#wrote this at like 11pm

[sunn-mechanic]

Chapters: 1

Rating: General Audiences

Warning: None Apply

Fandom: Lego Ninjago

Characters: Echo Zane, Dr. Julien

Relationship: Echo Zane & Dr. Julien

Word count: 100

Summary: Walls around one's heart and such

–

Echo Zane has got me in a chokehold, I can't stop thinking about him, can't stop writing about him

[that-wizard-oki]

dream blunt rotation is Morganthe Bat and Dasein no i will not elaborate

[chaotic-fandom-hoarder]

mom said it’s my turn on the writing again!

Alex can’t exactly pinpoint when they first started to change. After all, they lived with a creature who could create hallucinations and worked in a place that had a “state of the art hallucinatory environment”. It’s hard to think about strange things happening to yourself when everything is already strange.

Although, a big telling point should have been the eyes.

Every once in a while, they would look in their bathroom mirror and meet yellow eyes, like that of a cat, or more likely, a veldigun. They would just sigh and continue business as usual, and when they glance back up at the mirror their eyes would be normal again. Human.

One time, before another day at the Lankmann Asylum, Alex was washing their hands. Their reflection didn’t look like them, but Clyde was asleep, so it wasn’t of much concern to them. The hallucinations always seemed to be stronger whenever Clyde was sleeping, whether under a table, in a closet, or sprawled across the couch.

Did Alex paint their nails recently? They didn’t think so, but there they were, with light green nails. It was probably just a hallucination, they thought. It was a nice color though, it suited them.

It took Alex a while to notice that the colored nails never faded. If anything, the color got more intense, eventually ending off as vibrant forest green claws.

Of course, at this specific moment, the nails weren’t the most important thing. The most important thing was the eye right in the center of their hand.

Alex blinked. Then it blinked back. It was yellow with a narrow pupil, like Clyde’s. 

Oh, this better be another hallucination because if not, then that’s not going to be convenient. If it’s not from Clyde, then maybe they should check the batteries in their co2 detectors.

The eye closed just as they thought that, and Alex could swear that they saw the air ripple before their hand looked perfectly normal. No eyelids. Nothing looking back at them where there shouldn’t be.

Alex just sighed and left for work. The fact that they’re seeing things doesn’t matter. Probably. Between the Lankmann Foundation and Clyde, a hallucination or two is probably not the worst thing that could happen to them.

After that, they never seem to get less… weird. Specifically with their reflection.

There comes a point later on, not long before the police raid their home, where Alex doesn’t like having mirrors around anymore. Afterall, the hallucinations always seem to get stronger in their reflection. The shadows seem to get deeper and darker, as though something was hiding one side of their face. 

Sometimes they catch a glimpse of inhuman teeth in their reflection, almost like Clyde’s, but whenever they fully look at it the reflection goes back to normal. Other times, the person in the mirror seems to move differently. The reflection looks stiffer than Alex feels, like watching a stop motion picture of themself.

(What Alex doesn’t realize is that the reflection isn’t the unnatural one anymore. They are.)

Does the Paradox of Theseus’s ship apply to a person as well? At what point does someone stop being human?

[plan-3-tmars]

Is this what Happiness is?

- hey so I haven't seen an interpretation of the bar scenes in Half that I fully agree with, so I wanted to throw my own two cents out there into the void and pray that it makes sense !!!

so, in the bar scenes in Half we see what I interpret as a hangout with old friends (or, hangout with old friend + his wife.) These scenes used to be the biggest piece of evidence for the cheater theory, but now that that's been debunked by the man himself, I have a new way of looking at them

~ before I go any further, I just wanted to say that I'll be calling the brown-haired woman whiskey for simplicity's sake

In this scene, Kazui turns to look at Whiskey, saying the lyrics:

"laughing together, side by side, this distance in our relationship is misleading me, is this what happiness is?"

With my guess (cuz that's really what it is there's no evidence for it) that Whiskey is the Bartender's wife i think this scene is Kazui being conflicted with what he's been told is true, that marrying Hinako is "true love", versus what he feels is true, that marrying Hinako has brought distance into their relationship.

He looks at Whiskey, a woman happily married, and wonders why his relationship with Hinako isn't like that.

~ shout out to @prisoner-000 for the following screenshot

in this post he points out that Hinako and Kazui's rings are silver in Cat, not gold like they were in Half, yet Bartender's ring colour stays the same.

For the sake of this writing I'm going to go with the first meaning they put out, that Bartender's ring is gold because his marriage is genuine.

But wait!! I hear you ask. This is Half and Kazui's ring is still gold in Half!! EXACTLY MY FRIEND!!

Kazui's ring IS still gold in Half because at the time of these scenes he's still fooling himself that this relationship is good, that he will eventually garner real romantic feelings for Hianko.

"laughing together, side by side, this distance in our relationship is misleading me, is this what happiness is?"

Remember this lyric that plays during the Whiskey -> Hinako scene. You know what other scene in Half this lyric reminds me of?

laughing together, side by side,

this distance in our relationship is misleading me,

is this what happiness is?

He's beginning to doubt if what he believes is true, he's beginning to believe the feelings telling him something's wrong (and remember, the scene right after this one is when he confesses (?) his secret to Hinako) ARE infact true, and that maybe the logic he's been following for so long has a couple holes in it.

I think these scenes are meant to show Kazui gradually realising that his relationship with Hinako will not work out. It just won't, no matter how hard he tries.

He's able to laugh together and talk with Whiskey because she's his friend, yet he can't do the same with his own wife? Even though, according to his gold ring, their relationship is supposed to be real and true and genuine?

[polydactylcatgirl]

liz@unibox:~Documents$ cat passionproject.txt

do you remember, so many years ago

when you were the belle of the ball the pride of our robotics department an angel of silicon and plastic and steel walking among us mere men?

you wore a backless dress over a transparent plate so that we could all look inside and see just how beautiful you were

it's been many years since then i have grown much older, much wiser i oversee the department that built you now but you still walk and talk the same

you are the pride and joy of this university the research that built you made us famous creations like you are all over the world you are immortal in mind, form, and idea

i did everything i could to get close to you changed my major, my life plan, everything your kind are my life's work i have done all i can to preserve you

so, tell me after all those long nights at the lab after all this time, all this development after everything we've seen together

do you love me like i love you

49 20 44 4F

[kentuckyfriedmegumi]

well, i am sorry in advance, but i wrote a terribly depressing, angsty, NO COMFORT, NO HAPPY ENDING one shot because my friends got into my head too much

read it, if you dare

[hey-heigo]

Chapter 28

well that's a series wrap on byakuya. thanks for reading everyone. in this final chapter we're gonna flush him down the toilet like a goldfish

SEE HERE FOR GENERAL WARNINGS AND FIC SUMMARY

Some pre-chapter notes:

in case you cant tell i'm a very big fan of that chapter 4 scene where aoi slaps the shit out of byakuya for being a reprehensible human

at what point does 'this might as well happen' not cut it anymore for trauma coping

fellow understander! @digitaldollsworld

Content warning tags: graphic description of vomiting, description of near-drowning symptoms, graphic descriptions of first aid and fatal wound treatment, character death, description of blood/gore, canon-typical violence implied

< previous - from start - next >

They’re cleaning up when the cafeteria doors slam open with a bang, Toko running in with braids whipping wildly, hands clutching something to her chest.

And the first thing she does, as everyone turns to stare at her, is look at Makoto and scream.

“HELP him,” She wails, trembling. “He - the pool, the water-”

Makoto takes a look at what she’s holding in her hands. It’s a key, being held so tightly that it must surely be cutting into her fingers, the keychain jangling. She’s trembling so much that it takes him a moment to read the name, monogrammed in small, neat characters.

And then he’s running, speeding out into the hall, a horrible, dawning feeling of fear clawing at his ankles as he goes.

__

When Byakuya wakes up, it’s to the fading, digital chime of bells, and the taste of coffee and something apple-sour being pressed into his mouth, warm and forcing sweet oxygen down his trachea…

Along with some more water, the pressure forcing a bubble of it down his windpipe, and he flails against the hands on his sternum and face, shoving wildly away to turn over and vomit onto the tile.

Nothing comes up but liquid, disgustingly warm in contrast to the rest of him, tasting vaguely like bile and chlorine. It goes on for a…a while, or maybe just a moment, but it feels like minutes before he finally expels everything that was in him. Leaving him shivering in the aftermath, lying on his side with an aching core of emptiness in his stomach.

For a few moments, he doesn’t move, still coughing slightly with every other breath, mouth foul-tasting and clammy. His skin is damp and cold, freezing through his clothes where he’s pressed against the tile floor, and his chest aches - a twisted sort of blessing, a sign that he was breathing at least - and as it was, everything hurt, his head, his limbs, his ribs. He blinks his eyes open and finds them even more bleary than usual, stinging with water.

“Can you sit up?” Someone asks gently, and there’s a hand at his back ready to support him. He grunts in response and tries to push himself onto his elbows; to minimal success, and in response an arm loops under his shoulders as he nearly lurches over, pulling him into a kneeling position and keeping him steady.

He blinks again, vision clearing somewhat. Purple and white and a strip of viscera-red floating in front of him - Kyoko is kneeling to his right, staring him dead in the face. Standing behind her is Ogami, holding a mass of pale blue. A glance to his opposite side reveals that the one holding him up is Asahina.

A careful, squinting scan reveals that there’s no dark-green shape of Makoto, and Byakuya can’t decide if he’s relieved or bothered by that.

“Here,” Ogami says, and he looks up just in time for something to drop over his shoulders, and he jerks backwards. But it’s only a towel, blue and thick and only a little scratchy, and he clutches it to himself, rubbing his arms to try and work some warmth into them. Ogami passes one to Asahina and Kyoko as well, and they both begin toweling themselves off. 

Only then does Byakuya realize that they must have jumped into the water to save him, and isn’t that a thought. He’s not sure how to feel about it - for the time being, the only thing he could feel was another wave of nausea, as he leans over and retches one more time, chest convulsing painfully, but coming up with nothing.

More humiliatingly, is the hand reassuringly rubbing his back, like he’s a child. Moving stiff and awkward and only slightly warmer than his own skin. “How are you feeling?” Ogami asks as his shoulders stop trembling, and her voice is clinical and calm, and the careful, professional tone of it is almost welcome.

“Lovely,” Byakuya rasps back with a wince, touching his ribs. He turns to glare at Kyoko, who removes her hand. “You know it’s ill-advised to perform mouth-to-mouth CPR if you aren’t trained in it?”

Instead of replying to him, she turns to Ogami. “He’s doing fine.”

“Can you stand?” Asahina tugs at his arm. She sounds uncharacteristically serious. “We should go to the nurse’s office. We need to check for signs of secondary drowning.”

“There’s no need-”

“No, this is serious. We have no idea how long you were in there for.” She tugs at him again. “Come on. You can complain while we walk - can you walk?”

Probably, though it wouldn’t be pleasant. He can feel the distinct sting of raw skin on his wrists and ankles, but they didn’t need to know that. He lets Asahina hoist him up, declines Ogami’s offer to support him with a raised hand - “Where’s Makoto?” He asks, before he can stop himself.

There’s a moment’s pause, as the three girls look at each other for a moment. Kyoko must have lost whatever staring contest they were holding, because she sighs. “While we were pulling you up, Hifumi came and told us there was another body discovered.” She explains, balling the towel up in her hands. “Makoto and Hiro went with him to go check it out. It was the best division of labor considering our skill sets.”

Byakuya feels his shoulders slump somewhat beneath the towel. He probably didn’t go willingly. Not considering the previous day’s events. But Byakuya has the feeling she’s trying to reassure him somewhat, and he scowls. “Yes, I doubt he would be more capable of swimming or first aid than the Ultimate Swimmer and a world-renowned athlete.” He snarks. “I should ask why you didn’t go with him, seeing as you were trying to drown me on dry land. Who’s the victim?”

“Other than you? No idea.” She tosses her towel over him, successfully muffling him before he can say anything more. “We haven’t gone to go see yet, the discovery announcement went off just before you gained consciousness. You should go to the nurse’s office to dry off. You’re a mess.”

He drags the towel off his face and throws it back at her, only for her to catch it harmlessly out of the air. “I don’t need you to tell me that.”

“For someone skilled in multiple languages, it seems you never learned how to say ‘thank you.’”

“For someone who needs to brush her teeth, it seems you don’t know basic manners.”

“Oh my god, guys.” Asahina groans. “Can you please not do this now?”

Continuing to argue would be counter-productive, especially now that the adrenaline was wearing off and the full freezing effect of his damp clothes was becoming evident. He lets Asahina guide him out through the girl’s locker room, watches Kyoko and Ogami continue up the stairs as he’s half-supported, half-led downwards. By the time they get to the nurse’s room, he can barely stop his teeth from chattering, as Asahina pushes him to sit on a cot and rifles out some heating packs from a drawer for him before leaving the room.

She returns a few moments later with her arms draped in white and red and gray-green, and tosses something at him. He only barely catches it, fumbling at the same time with the packs clutched in his hands and arms crossed over his chest. A green mass of cotton - composed of two, smaller masses - it takes him a moment of unfolding and shaking them out until he can recognize the full shape of a pair of sweatpants. “A-a tracksuit?”

“There’s a t-shirt and socks in there too, somewhere,” She tosses down a pair of nondescript white shoes on the ground in front of him with a thump. “Toko ran off with your key, and you shouldn’t stay in those clothes any longer than you have to.” She explains, and he clicks his tongue. irritated but wholly unsurprised. “Hurry up and get changed.”

And he probably should. It feels like his dampened clothes are freezing into a shell against his skin, but he doesn’t move. Staring pointedly at Asahina, eyebrow raised, until she notices, and sighs.

“You can pull the curtains, you know,” She gestures at something above his head, and sure enough, there are pale green sheets hanging from a silver track on the ceiling around either end of the bed.

His face heats a bit. “I…hadn’t noticed.” He says through teeth clenched to stop trembling. He’d rarely been in a school’s infirmary, as communal as it was. “I don’t usually try to be injured enough to be in a place like this.”

Asahina doesn’t reply to that, instead walking over and drawing the privacy curtains around him with a rustle of scraping chains. Immediately his surroundings dim, enclosing him, with the only light streaming from above and below the curtain itself. From the sounds of shuffling cloth and the drip of water outside, it seemed that she was changing as well - Byakuya feels that their positions should be reversed, somehow.

Peeling his damp clothes from his skin is…a less than pleasant experience, especially as his fingertips feel too numb to properly undo his buttons. He manages it though, and the change of clothing is nice - surprisingly comfortable, albeit a half-size too big - and he feels warmer already by the time he pulls the curtains open again.

Asahina had changed as he thought, though her tracksuit is a vivid maroon matching her usual jacket, and was folding her clothes into a neat pile on the table. There’s an array of various materials spread on a tray next to her, a roll of bandages and gauze, a tube of ointment. There’s the silver shine of a stethoscope stark around her neck. “Okay, stay seated. I need to check if there’s water in your lungs.”

“You’re well-versed in this.”

She shrugs one shoulder as she sits down and rolls over on a stool, carrying the tray like a waiter. “Only kind of.” She says off-handedly. “You know, with being ‘the Ultimate Swimmer’ and all.” She doesn’t sound particularly proud of it for some reason, and doesn’t elaborate further. “I don’t know how to use any of the fancy machine stuff in here, so we’re gonna have to do this the old-fashioned way. Breathe in and out, deeply, when I tell you. And tell me if anything hurts.”

The stethoscope is cold, even through layers of clothing. He sits up straight, feeling strangely quiet. Much like the night before, where he found himself compliant and unopposed to Makoto’s whims. It was easier to follow along what someone told him, than to think.

It must be the shock. He takes another deep breath as Asahina moves the scope to his back.

“Okay. I think you’re good.” She says at last. setting the scope away. “Any pain?”

“Only near my ribs.” He reaches up and touches a particularly tender spot to the right side of his sternum, just above his diaphragm. It had the same sore quality of a bruise. “I think it’s from the CPR, but it doesn’t feel broken, at least.” He pauses. “That probably means you didn’t do it right.”

“Well, sorry for not cracking your bones I guess,” She snaps, sounding entirely unsorry. “I’ll try harder next time, you asshole.”

It takes him a moment to remember his tongue in his mouth. “Excuse me?”

Instead of immediately responding, she tears open a small white square with her teeth, shaking out an alcoholic wipe, the smell of it sharp in his nose. In a quick, easy motion, she grabs one of his hands, pushing up the sleeve of his jacket, and wraps the damp cloth around his wrist, swiping it over the wound with a tight grip on his hand even as he jerks with pain, just barely biting back a hiss as his nerves scream with the burn of it. “You are an asshole. You do know that, right?”

And she releases him, tossing the wipe away. He examines the exposed wound, notes that the skin surrounding it looks redder than before - before she’s pinned his hand again, this time to squeeze a line of white over the red from a thin tube of ointment. Trying to pull free of her is futile, but at least this didn’t burn. “Did I do something to you?” He grits out, grimacing at the uncomfortable greasy feeling as she winds gauze and bandages around his arm.

“I mean. It’s what you didn’t do.” She replies, tone clipped and the least pleasant he’s ever heard it. She reaches for his other hand, and he jerks it away at the last moment.

“Enough circumventing. If you have something to say, just say it.” He retorts. The pain had helped clear his head at least, enough for him to finally feel angry. The sensation of fear and cold had given away, leaving nothing behind by the disgrace at how he had been treated, how he was being treated. As if he had done anything wrong. “Pointless pettiness and guessing games are for people who are too stupid to be clear about what they want.”

He jumps as she throws down the roll of bandages, pushing away from him with a huff. “God, you’re so-! You’re such a dick!” her voice is shrill and furious, and he tries not to flinch, immediately on guard. “I - we just saved your stupid life, and you’re being so stuck up about it - what’s your problem?!”

“I didn’t ask to be dragged around and tossed into a pool,” He snaps back immediately, almost in reflex. He flexes his hands, preparing to bolt if he has to. “I’m so sorry for inconveniencing you with my misfortune, I’ll do my best to drown faster next ti-”

He cuts off as the ointment tube bounces harmlessly off of his head, clattering onto the floor. “Can you cut that out?!” Asahina hisses. She’s standing now, looking down at him with what was probably a thunderously furious look, but it’s hard to tell with the light behind her. The bandages and disinfectant wipes fall from her lap and scatter to the floor. “Look, I get it, okay? I’m sorry that happened to you. I get that you’re having a hard time. But we’re not playing the misery olympics, so can you at least just say ‘thanks’ or not be a total asshole while we’re trying to help?”

She turns fully away as her outburst ends, walking off to stand in front of the counter, back facing him. He sits silently for a moment, stunned, and a little embarrassed, which in itself was somewhat novel. Not utterly humiliated for once, but - her words did have some logic in them, and he chews thoughtfully on the inside of his cheek for a moment. None of them were trained paramedics or professionals, or had any obligation for his life. Nor did he have anything to offer them that would justify their interest in his well-being.

“Well,” He manages after a moment. She has a point, and it would be…wrong, not to acknowledge that much. “I…suppose, yes. That is - I mean - thank you.”

Not the most eloquent he could have been, but he could blame that on the near-death experience. She still doesn’t turn towards him. “I should have - you have a point,” He continues on, clumsily. “It was an…oversight, on my part, not to recognize that. But in my defense, I was a little preoccupied. I’m not exactly used to needing to be rescued.” He smiles to himself, a little bitterly. “Would you believe me if I said I try not to make a habit of near-death experiences?”

She still doesn’t turn back to him, but her shoulders slump as she sighs, a universally recognizable sound of exhaustion. “...Yeah. Right. I…look, I’m sorry too. I’m - everyone - we’re all freaked out, I guess, and I…shouldn’t have freaked out on you, but I take it seriously when I’m trying to help someone, y’know? And I guess I’m just used to it when people have a habit of, like, basic courtesy and stuff.” When she turns back to him her face isn’t nearly half as shadowed. “It’s pretty obvious you got one of the shorter ends of the stick, and I’d be pretty mad if I were in your spot too. I just wish…”

“What? That I’d be nicer?”

“No, I’m pretty sure that’s impossible for you.” She leans down to pick up the scattered medical supplies. “I wish that we had all met differently. If we’d already known each other before this stupid game started, you could trust us more about your…thing, and we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

He could understand why she would wish such a thing. Unhealthy codependency with Sakura aside, he could only imagine how jarring the whole experience of witnessing your murdered peers would have on someone as casual as her. “Statistically speaking, most murders are committed by someone already known to the victim.” He says pointedly. “If we’d all known each other, it would’ve only delayed the inevitable.”

She does an impressively exaggerated eye roll. “I changed my mind. I do wish you’d stop acting like a pompous dick.” And she grabs his other arm, and before he can react he feels his raw nerves being doused in the cold burn of isopropyl, and this time he does yelp and try to retract his hand. But she holds it fast until she’s done, dressing it expertly, and the tightness of the bandaging is almost reassuring, the pressure stymieing the pain. “But, you’re welcome. I’m glad you didn’t die.”

Her voice softens as she says that, and he can tell it’s genuine. Somehow, that throws him off even more than her initial scolding, and he stays silent, wrapping one hand around the newly bandaged area, squeezing it slightly with a contemplative frown.

“I’m gonna do your ankle now. Lift your leg?”

He jerks his foot backwards quickly. “I’ll do it myself.”

__

Once his wounds are fully tended to, they have a brief, heated argument over what should be done next. Aoi wanted him to rest in the nurse’s office until they could get his key back from Fukawa, but he refused outright, on the basis of several points: one, given that the culprit had apparently attempted to kill two people despite Monokuma’s trials only requiring one, it was likely they were out of a rational scope of logic, and he would be safer with the others given that he was a surviving witness. Two, given that he was an important suspect, he should confer his information with the others as soon as possible while it was still fresh in his mind. And three, as long as Fukawa was unaccounted for, he didn’t want to be in any situation where he could potentially be left alone somewhere to be subsequently cornered by her.

He purposefully doesn’t address how Monokuma’s rules forbid killing after an initial body was discovered, or how Aoi could simply just stay with him as a sort of safeguard. But she doesn’t argue, only sighing as she accompanies him towards the third floor, matching his slow, limping pace.

He’s hardly ever been up here, he realizes, as they step into the hallway. He vaguely remembers traversing through here once, but it takes him a moment to place which room is where. As they turn the corner and spy Yamada outside the room at the end of the hall, pale and trembling and sitting next to the dark purple pile of Fukawa’s unconscious form, it still doesn’t click for him that they’re outside of the art room until they actually reach the entrance.

Inside is the dusty, chemical scent of paint, metal, and the earthier smells of clay and old stone. He shudders for a moment, wrinkling his nose. The walls are a riot of color, pictures and paintings plastered and entirely covering up whatever the wallpaper was, pottery and half-finished busts gathering sitting on the shelves.

Aoi gasps audibly. It takes him a moment to realize that the large blot of color on the floor was not from spilled paint, but rather, was the source of the metallic smell that he’d noticed earlier. And it was oozing slowly outwards from the slumped body of Mondo Owada.

He’s hardly recognizable at first, missing his black coat and pompadour. He seems to have noticeably lost weight, in the white button-down shirt that is rolled at the sleeves and stained at the collar with the blood that was streaming from his forehead. Hiro, Kyoko, Sakura and Makoto are kneeling on either side of him, pressing rags to the numerous wounds on his chest - but it was hopeless. His torso was dotted with multiple dark spots, blooming outwards on his shirt like flowers.

Under the din of Hiro’s panicked, anxious muttering, Kyoko’s calm and steady counting, and Sakura’s voice administrating curt instruction, Byakuya can make out Makoto’s voice, chanting a quiet, desperate mantra: “Please don’t die, please don’t die, please don’t die, please-”

And as draws nearer, he can hear a low, rattling gasp coming from the body in front of him. Still breathing, and still alive.

“What happened?!” He demands, hesitant to step any closer. Kyoko just shakes her head and continues to count the seconds, gloved hands pressing fistfuls of white against the gaping injuries, the pool of blood already staining her knees.

At the sound of his voice, Owada suddenly lurches, surging forward with a spew of blood down his front. Ogami hisses and grabs his shoulder, trying to force him back down; he resists with impressive strength, teetering all his weight on one elbow. Makoto flinches backwards for a moment, faltering.

Owada raises one trembling hand towards him. “A-Alter Ego,” He gasps, blood stark against his teeth, streaming down his chin. “Where - is it safe-?”

Byakuya’s hand flies to his pocket before remembering that his handbook wasn’t there. At the same moment, he wonders if the laptop was still in its locker in the bathhouse, and curses himself for not checking earlier.

He opens his mouth to answer, before glancing at Makoto. Staring back at him with wide eyes, hands still trembling as he continues applying pressure to Owada’s injuries, with a rag so bloodied it was completely soaked through.

“...Yes.” He lies instead. “It’s fine.”

Owada’s arm drops down to his side, the whole of him going limp in an instant, and Sakura has to react quickly to catch him before his head crashes against the floor. The white of his eyes flicker shut. He exhales, a long, quiet sigh.

And the whole of him falls utterly silent.

< previous - from start - next >

[cruesuffix]

this was something that came to my head just a little before I went to bed so it might not be the most coherent thing. still…i post what i want so here’s that sweet cringe for whoever wants it. (side note: i kind of based this off of what happened to my pal ****** you know that one kpop idol? yeah…i guess this is sort of a crossover?? oh well, i’ll stop yapping now!)

At first it was just a slight discomfort. A twisting of his stomach that started in the middle of a gig. The band was nearing the end of a year spent recording an album and beginning the tour cycle. Christmas was in a couple of days and they would be getting a nice break for the holidays. The show went on, with Mick becoming more and more aware of the pain in his stomach. He wondered if he had eaten something bad the day before and he just happened to feel the effects of it while on stage. What terrible timing.

He forced himself to focus on his playing, reminding himself he could always rush to the bathroom after their set. He kept his head down, not wanting to look at Nikki or Vince and have them see how much pain he was in. As soon as the last note is played and bows have been taken, he rushed off stage in search of the first bathroom he can find. The pain is dull, and it throbbed throughout his abdomen. No matter how hard he pushed, nothing came out. He exited the bathroom feeling slightly uncomfortable and confused, but ultimately decided he was just a bit crampy.

That’s just how he was sometimes. Certain muscles got sore, felt achy, then went away. He caught up to the rest of the band who were heading towards the tour bus. They were supposed to head back to the hotel, pack their things and sleep so they could head to the airport early the next morning. He laid on one of the little couches in the tour bus, still feeling like absolute sht. Whenever someone tried to come up to him, sensing something was up, he bared his teeth at them and glared. He didn’t want to talk to anyone at that moment.

All he could think about was going back to his hotel room and going to sleep. He never unpacked any of his suitcases so he didn’t even have to worry about running around and cleaning up. He didn’t notice the rest of the guys have been looking at him. They weren’t surprised by his typical anti social behaviour, but they were surprised he never kicked up his feet and downed a beer like he usually did after a show. In fact, he looked incredibly uncomfortable, lying there on the couch almost in the fetal position. They didn’t know he even was able to fold himself into such position. They’d never seen him in such a way before.

When they finally arrived to their destination, they all piled out of the bus. Mick was the last one off and he couldn’t help but nearly drag himself out the bus. He was both tired and in pain so he took his time getting off and walking back to his room. Like always, his room was next to Nikki’s. He hoped Nikki didn’t go crazy and make too much noise like he usually did. He’d was actually dying to sleep that night and rid himself of whatever sickness he’d caught this time. All he could do when he got inside his room was flop on the bed and promptly close his eyes. He’s out like a light, still in leather pants and a t-shirt, leather jacket having been discarded as soon as he walked in.

The next morning, Mick felt himself being shaken awake. He cracked an eye open. If it was even possible, he felt worse than he did yesterday. The light in the room seemed so bright, he could barely open his eyes. A voice rang out, he could barely make out the words.

“…an’t you’re burning up, man!” The voice exclaimed. He squinted his eyes a bit just to figure out who the voice belonged to. He could barely focus, the only thing on his mind was how much pain he was in. His body felt like it was on fire, his insides feeling like they were being cooked. He wheezed out a breath and immediately felt nauseous. He could faintly hear footsteps rushing into the room, and someone replaced the person who was in front of him.

“…an you hear me? Hey, Mick are you ok?” Someone asked. He tried to nod his head, but just the sheer movement made him groan. His head was swimming and it was hard to focus on something. Someone dipped their head right into his face and he was forced to look at the person. As he focused on the features, he suddenly had a name for the person in front of him. Doc, their manager. He sighed in relief. Doc repeated his question and this time Mick shook his head.

“I-ugh, think I’m coming down with something.” He managed to tell him. Someone in the background shook their head.

“He’s burning up dude, he looks out of it. I don’t know what it could be, maybe an overdose?” The voice, Tommy’s, replied. Mick frowned. As if he’d do something stupid like that. No, he hadn’t taken any drugs the day before…at least not that he could remember. Besides, drugs were a Tommy and Nikki sort of deal, they usually weren’t Mick’s go to boredom buster.

“No, it’s my stomach. It- It was hurting real bad yesterday. I think I’ve got food poisoning or something.” He countered. He tried to bite down another groan as another harsh cramp hit his stomach.

Doc looked at him, just concerned at the image of the usually tough guitarist bent down and grasping onto his abdomen. He looked back to see Nikki peering into the room. Great, now they had an audience.

“Maybe we should get a doctor to check him out.” Nikki commented. Doc nodded, going to phone a medic. Nikki walked into the room and sat down next to Mick. The movement jostled the sick man, who finally allowed a small groan to escape. Nikki instinctively wrapped an arm around his shoulder. He pulled him closer, and was amazed at the fact that he hadn’t had an eye clawed out.

“What could you even eat to give you food poisoning? We’re in Florida not Japan!” Nikki lightly joked.

Mick didn’t answer him though. His eyes fluttered open and closed. He was sure he was either going to pass out or vomit all over Nikki. He was hoping for the former, he wasn’t sure he’d be forgiven if he puked all over his bassist. If he had been in better condition, he wouldn’t have slumped onto his bassist, head falling onto his shoulder. Nikki moved his arm from his shoulder to his waist, practically propping him up as they waited. When Doc came back, he brought a medic with him. The medic checked Mick out, while Nikki kept a firm hold on him. There wasn’t much the medic could do. He was sure Mick had come down with some kind of pneumonia, or even an infection. All he could do was turn to Doc and say something about a hospital. Nikki’s stomach sank. He had been hoping it was nothing too serious. Maybe a stomach bug that would go away on its own, or even an unserious case of food poisoning. Hearing the words pneumonia and infection put together in a sentence had him infinitely worried.

Doc motioned for the both of them to get up, but when Mick tried to, he could only groan and fold inwards. He clutched his stomach, whimpering at how fast the pain had gotten worse. Nikki took charge and tried picking the older man up, who could only clench his jaw to stop from screaming. Nikki immediately stopped and decided to turn around and let him climb onto his back. This seemed to work and, with Tommy in tow, he carried Mick with him. They followed Doc and the medic as they rushed to his car. Tommy shared a nervous look with Nikki the whole way round. They were both really hoping they wouldn’t have to lost their guitarist right when they hit their stride.

The whole car ride was tense. Nikki couldn’t stop shaking his leg and Tommy nervously conversed with Doc, who couldn’t deny him a simple distraction. Nikki found he couldn’t take his hands off the older man. Mick kept his eyes closed the whole ride, barely acknowledging Nikki’s nudges and questions. He simply melted into the touch, something he never once allowed himself to. Nikki’s surprised by this. It’s like finally taming a cat that’s hated you the whole time. He doesn’t even know if he should be afforded such luxury. Still, he does his best to soothe him, petting his soft black hair and telling him he’ll be ok. He wasn’t even sure he believed that, but he wasn’t going to say anything.

Mick didn’t remember anything of that car ride. He didn’t remember being pet or held by Nikki. He did remember a sort of warmth spreading all over him. He did remember a sort of safe feeling. He remembered not feeling worried about his situation for some reason, just as much as he remembered the pain he felt during that day. He just didn’t remember Nikki holding him. And he sure didn’t remember much about the next minutes; being carried into the hospital, a lot of yelling and screaming, puking right on Nikki, who could only try his hardest to calm him down. The most jarring of it all, which he definitely blocked out of his memory: he was crying the entire time. He’s never cried in his adult life, not once. Not when his kids were taken away from him, not when he went to jail for unpaid child support, not even when Vince got into his car accident and no one knew if he was alive or not. No, nothing got past the impenetrable Mick Mars. Yet, as Nikki stood, holding him in his arms, he was sobbing. The pain must have been pretty bad for him to do that. Of course, he wouldn’t remember any of that.

Nikki and Tommy, however, knew everything. They knew that their guitarist had appendicitis and needed surgery on his appendix immediately. Tommy paled as soon as he heard that and Nikki had to sit down. It was a necessary procedure and they were lucky they had caught it on time. Nikki could only blow out a nervous breath and Tommy needed air fast. Doc made sure they got the room immediately and Nikki rushed after him, still carrying the semi conscious man in his arms. Tommy stayed back, still pacing back and forth.

After depositing Mick onto the bed, Nikki was ushered out of the room and had no choice but to hang back out in the waiting room. Tommy was still there pacing. Nikki smiled softly and walked up to him.

“Why don’t you go out and have a smoke or something…take the edge off your nerves.” He suggested. Tommy paused. He looked hesitant. Nikki knew he didn’t want to leave, in case anything went down. He reached over and put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him in his place.

“Seriously, it’s ok. You can’t stay here and just pace, you’re making everyone else nervous.” He lightly joked. Tommy sighed and gave him a sad smile.

With a nod, he walked out of the room, reaching into his pocket as he did so. Nikki chuckled slightly and sat down on one of the hard plastic chairs. They really needed to get comfier chairs. He squirmed around, half trying to get comfortable, half trying to calm himself down. He was fine, they’d take care of him. He got why Tommy had to pace around. The suspense would kill anyone else. His foot tapped a million times per second.

He was never a smoker, thinking it a worse habit than the drugs he did, but it was moments like these where he wished he had picked it up. Anyone else would have just left. Vince was probably already back in California by now. Nikki himself was surprised he stayed. He probably would have been back in sunny California with a needle in his arm by now, as harsh as it was to think that way. Fear overtook him. Maybe that was why he was still here. For all his trash talk and evil ways, he cared so much about that man. He never thought he could do that, care.

Mick was so nice, so caring towards them all, even when he wanted nothing more than for them to all go away and leave him alone. He put up with so much, and they constantly took advantage of that kindness. It paid Nikki nothing to simply be there for him. The fact that if they had left Mick to his own devices, he wouldn’t have survived it, was a shock alone. That was the last thing the band needed right now. Nikki looked around the room. There weren’t much people here. Seemed like mornings were pretty chill until afternoons hit. That’s when the real drama started. A glance at the hall signals the return of Tommy, this time bringing Doc along. The two of them carried coffees in their hands and Tommy hands one out to Nikki. He takes a grateful sip from his cup. He’s looking expectantly at Doc, who simply shrugged.

“I just got back from the cafeteria…Tommy decided that would be a great place to smoke in the building full of sick people.” He griped. Tommy blushed slightly.

“I wasn’t thinking, alright, I got that! I just…I didn’t want to leave and miss anything.” He admitted, looking down.

Tommy could be real pathetic at times. Nikki could only smile at his downtrodden face. He looked like a kicked puppy, but Nikki knew he was only trying to get sympathy points from Doc. It worked too, their manager could only sigh and pat him on the shoulder.

“Next time…just go outside. We don’t need the hassle of trying to bail you out from the nurses. They’re pretty strict here too, it’s a really good hospital.” Doc replied, looking at Nikki while saying the last part. That was his way of consoling him. Reminding him that Mick was in good hands. Nikki can only nod and sigh. He sits back in his chair, running a hand through his hair.

“You know, if we had taken him seriously yesterday it probably wouldn’t have been as serious as it is now.” He commented. Tommy coughs. Doc looked away. Nikki stares at them, willing them to say something.

“Well it’s true! Hell, if we didn’t do something today he would have been…” he trailed off, not wanting to say the last part out loud. Tommy puts his head in his hands and Doc breathes out a heavy sigh.

“Listen, we got to him when we did and now they’re solving the problem. There’s no what ifs in this situation, we did exactly what we should have. We don’t have time to play the ‘we should have done this we should have done that’ game. All we can do is pray he gets better fast.” He shut down any other attempt at blaming themselves, before grabbing a newspaper from one of the tables and pretending to read it.

Tommy sits down beside Nikki and wraps a spindly arm around his shoulder.

“There’s no reason to blame yourself Sixx. We still got to him in time, which is better than not at all. He’s going to get better and we’ll all laugh about this in the near future.” Tommy tried to comfort him. Nikki could just shrug and nod.

“Better than not at all…yeah, I guess.”

It took another two hours for anything to be said to them. A nurse finally walks up to them, making Nikki jump to his feet and the resulting action forcing Doc to jolt awake. The nurse reassured them that everything was fine, and that the surgery went well. Mick was obviously going to be asleep for a while, so they would have to come back the next day to see him. As the nurse leaves, Nikki finds his anxiety dwindling to just small background noise. He looked towards Doc, who stares at him blankly.

“So…are you going back to California now?” He asked Nikki, who stares at him like he had three eyes on his face.

“Uhhh, no? I’m staying here.”

“And where are you going to stay? We checked out of the hotel like…three hours ago?”

Nikki paused. He hadn’t thought that far…and he had two whole hours to do so. Tommy stood beside them awkwardly. Tommy wasn’t sure if he wanted to stay either. But if he wanted to go, who was going to bring him back to California?

“I’ll stay in a motel close by if I have to, I just don’t want to leave him here by himself. He won’t know what’s going on and I want to be there so he has a familiar face.” Nikki begged.

He didn’t feel comfortable just letting his friend stay somewhere he was unfamiliar with by himself. If it had been him, Nikki would have wanted someone there with him. He’s sure it would have been Tommy, he never went anywhere without his terror twin. Doc could only sigh as he turned to Tommy.

“So what are we going to do with you?” He asked. Tommy shrugged.

“I could try to navigate the airport by myself?” He answered, his answer sounding more like a question with how unsure he was. Doc shook his head.

“I absolutely do not trust any of you to get on a plane by yourselves. Let me get Nikki situated in his stupid motel and then I’ll drive you to the airport and see you off on the plane. Then I’ll come back and take care of Nikki and Mick until they’re ready to come back to California. Does that sound good to everyone?”

Both Nikki and Tommy nodded at this and Doc stood up.

“Good, now let’s go look for some motels around us.”

It didn’t take them long to find the cheapest (but not the dingiest) motel close to the hospital. With Nikki in his room, unpacking for the week ahead, Tommy and Doc shuttled back off to the airport (not without Doc reminding them of how much he did for them and how they shouldn’t take him for granted…Nikki can’t remember everything seeing as though he tuned him out halfway through his speech). Alone, Nikki felt calmer. The atmosphere of the hospital was overwhelming, even though there was practically no one there. He wondered if Mick was comfortable. Was the bed nice enough for his back? Was he laying down flat, or nicely propped up like he always slept.

Then he wondered why he was thinking about the old man so much. He almost never thought about him like this on a daily basis. Was it normal to think about your bandmates? Then again, Nikki wasn’t really thinking about anyone but himself these days. And that only made him feel worse. Maybe he was just selfish for not thinking about them. All his friends, his family…his mom. No, he didn’t have to think about her. But, he never thought about his friends. Not even the guys he helped form the band that had made him a damn near millionaire. He could call them every once in a while…even if it was just to catch up. He never did that though, but then again…neither did they. They used to be close though. They used to call. They used to hang out. Hell, they used to live together.

He paused, throwing the shirt he’d just taken out of his suitcase back onto the bed. He was spiralling, he knew that. He was once again stuck in that old thinking pattern he had tried to drown out with alcohol and drugs. He had no dope on him and he wasn’t even sure where the nearest liquor store was. He couldn’t afford to spiral. He tried calming down his breathing. He took long measured breaths and tried to tune out the brain radio going on in his head.

No, he wasn’t evil for not catching up with his friends. No, he wasn’t evil for not noticing any signs of trouble with Mick. No, he wasn’t evil for not wanting anything to do with his toxic family. He was fine. Mick was fine. Everyone was fine. There was no reason to want to run back to the hospital and hold onto Mick like he could possibly break into a million pieces, because he wasn’t going to. He was fine. There’s no reason to even want to hear his voice, because Mick was asleep and Nikki wasn’t going to try to wake him up when he just got out of an invasive surgery.

Ok. There was something there. Something Nikki was trying to hide from himself. There was no reason he should’ve been feeling fond of that garbage gremlin. Mick was nasty, said weird things and did even weirder stuff. He was stubborn, almost always trying to influence Nikki to go his way instead of just sticking to the script. Sure, he wrote a lot a great riffs, and maybe it was a good thing that he didn’t always listen to Nikki. It was still infuriating at times. They didn’t always get along, and there was a reason they stopped sharing a hotel room since the year before. But…there was something, a weird pervasive feeling there.

All he could do was sleep about it. Maybe there was something there, Nikki was willing to pretend it didn’t exist. Even if he did acknowledge it, nothing was going to come from this. Mick wasn’t like that. He had a girlfriend who he really cared for. One that was probably wondering why he hadn’t come home yet.

The next morning, Nikki woke up extra early. Doc was waiting for him at his door, looking more tired than usual. Nikki gave him a sheepish smile and tried to apologize for the day before. Doc just waved him off.

“I would have had to stay behind either way. I’m not leaving any of you alone for more than ten minutes…that goes for means mr. regular too.”

It doesn’t take long for both Nikki and Doc to get through to Mick’s room. He’s already up and looking rather tired. Nikki’s the first to burst into the room, nearly scaring the hell out of his guitarist.

“Mars, man! How are ya?” Nikki exclaimed, rushing over to uncharacteristically give Mick a hug. Mick was so tired he let Nikki hug him, not even letting out his usual grumble about the overt affection. He just let himself be hugged, wrapping a weak arm around Nikki’s back.

“I’ve seen better days.” Was Mick’s usual sarcastic reply. He nodded at Doc who patted his shoulder lightly. Nikki sat at the edge of the bed, for some reason.

“Dude, we thought you were going to OW-“

Nikki’s interrupted by Doc’s elbow hitting him in the stomach.

“It’s good to see you’re alright Mick, you gave us quite the scare yesterday.” Doc in turn remarked, a much more polite version of Nikki’s crass statement.

“Yeah…I’m sorry about that. I kinda just thought I had food poisoning or something. I don’t even remember the ride here, think I just passed out.”

“Yeah, it was gnarly! You can’t imagine how relieved we are that you made it.” Nikki finally put his two cents in. Mick nodded.

“Tommy and Vince went back to California though, didn’t they?” He asked. Doc grimaced, but nodded.

“But Tommy was there with us when we brought you to the hospital! In fact, he was the one that found you.” Nikki countered. He didn’t want it to seem like they were all heartless. Even still, Vince probably didn’t even know what happened…and most likely wouldn’t care. Nikki tried not to think about that. They couldn’t possibly care that little about each other.

“Yeah…I think I remember that. How’d he get a key to my room either way?”

“We were running late so I gave Tommy a spare key to wake you up…thinking back, I should have known something was wrong. You’re never late.”

Mick shrugged and the room falls silent. They didn’t need to unpack all of that right at that moment. Mick found himself nuzzling up closer to Nikki. He didn’t know why, but he needed the comfort. Of course, when this was over and he went back home, he’ll pretend he never did this. He’ll pretend this never happened, him getting so close to Nikki. He’ll pretend he was strong and didn’t need the comfort. That things like this just happen and he took it in stride. No one needed to know how weak he was being. Nikki didn’t care, of course. He just stroked his hair and let him get as close as possible. He wasn’t even scared to get that close to him, no longer feeling intimidated by the older man. It wasn’t like how it was back in ‘83 anymore. They’re both content to pretend they aren’t doing what they are. Mick wasn’t struggling to stay awake because he was being lulled back to sleep by Nikki’s soft, calming touch. And Nikki sure wasn’t the happiest he’d ever been having full access to Mick without the biting and scratching and screaming. None of them acknowledged it, so it wasn’t happening. Simple as that.

i have more in the can but that’s like a fully fledged fic that I still haven’t worked out yet. but either way, this is what i have take it or leave it. sure, it might seem disjointed and a bit incomprehensible but…oh well.

i was serious though, it happened to my friend ******

[nono-uwu]

I lied i do have things to post lmao (tbf inspiration only struck me after that post), anyways

Demons!! Whoa

As always, lore utc ~

So. Ancient Greece. Dark Ages. There is this homeless orphan. Gets kidnapped and put into slave trade. None other than Sika Madu buys this kid up as they're 'special' in some way (hint: it's the blue eyes :) ). This kid hasn't known anything besides violence and cruelty, so they act out and disregard any act of kidness Sika Madu shows them. They frequently disobey him which leads to them finding out about the whole reviving angel Mikaela thing. Dies thanks to humonculus Yuu going beserk and gets turned into a vampire as a 3rd progenitor. Learns a bit more about the whole thing from Urd and Rigr and decides that this whole thing ain't fot them and they make a run for it, vowing revenge against Sika Madu somehow.

Fast forward to the middle ages. The noble Bathory family has their third child and first daughter, about two years after their second son, Ferid. Ferid does his thing and kills his parents, without the knowledge of his siblings. When Ferid is 16 and his sister around 13 or 14 he kills their older brother thanks to his new goal of stopping reincarnation (how that's supposed to help is beyond anyone atp). As he returns to his home, bloodied with his brother nowhere to be seen and said brothers sword in hand, his sister obviously freaks out and makes a run for it, piecing the incidents of her parents untimely deaths and this situation together. Throughout the chase through their home, Ferid, at first ,only gets to cut off a piece of his sister's hair. After a bit, he corners her and stabs her to near death. He drags her bleeding body all the way to a nearby forest, so she can die and become one with the plants she loved oh so much. He leaves to set off his convoluted plan(s) for the future while his sister's body rots away.

Little did he know, a certain rogue vampire that was nearby that exact day, stumbled across the girls dying body. The girl had miraculously clung onto life.

The vampire made an offer:

"Wanna keep living?"

"...y...yeah..."

"Well, I can make that happen but you gotta be my friend forever!"

The girl barely had any strength left to live, let alone speak another word. She could only weakly gaze up at her savior's small frame with pure desperation in her green eyes.

"I'll take that as a yes. And if no, I can just kill you right away!"

A few minutes later, the girl had woken up once again, an all consuming thrist for blood already plaguing her. The vampire handed her a bottle of red liquid which she downed in a few seconds.

"Well, Filum's the name! Nice to properly meet you my new friend!"

"...thank you for saving my life, Filum. I'm...", the girl trailed off. Was her name really worth keeping? The one her monster of a brother would gleefully call out while dragging her dying body around? No. "... I'm Liz."

"That's not your real name, is it?"

"It is now."

"Alright then Liz, lemme introduce you to your new life as a vampire and my forever friend!"

Liz would spend the next few years catching up with knowledge she was not permitted to access earlier and enganging in general shenanigans with Filum.

She had a dying desire, which stuck with her even as a vampire: to figure out the reason for her brothers actions and to stop him. But simply going to kill him on sight wasn't the style of a cunning Bathory. She knew he had something planned and by the time she got around to realising her goal, Ferid was a vampire himself. So she hatched her own big plan: Take Ferid down at his highest, when his plans are just about to scceed, just like how he destroyed everything just when things started to look up for their family.

Buncha stuff happens but uhhhh muh brain broken lmao

A long, long time later Liz decides that in order for her plans to work (and being aware of the nature of Ferids plan), she has to become a demon. Filum, bored out of their mind, decides that they should also become a demon and find a fitting vessel to one day take down Sika Madu (now Shikama Doji). They both use a technique to retain their memories as demons (like the one Mahiru used iirc) and possess their current weapons as vessels. Filum makes their own weird little contraption for strings while Liz picks a gun (she claims they're an efficient weapon but also she just thinks they're neat).

[peppermint-whiskers]

Lmao I love ironic characters uwu

[invisable-person]

Something about dying together…

rotting and decaying away while clinging to your partner. Such a peaceful and undeniably cruel thing. But we’re together. And that’s all that matters.

Soon our skin and organs will melt leaving only our bones. And when the bugs start eating away at my brain they will only find visions of you. Every little detail of us. The way I called your name, and how you serenaded me with my own. Of your gentle touches, ever so soft but never afraid. They will feast. Cause you are my reason, my every waking thought, even in death.

They will feast until bones remain, a simple shell of us amongst the flowers that bloomed.

We’re together, forever merged into one. Forever holding each other tightly underneath and amongst the soil, like we were always ment to do. This is it, my love. Embrace it. Enjoy it. We have all the time in the world. Our shared eternity…

[whitmore]

hate to be like Nuance November but . i usually think the people critiquing the game design and plotline are correct, but even if they weren’t it should be cool w/ everyone anyway. there’s almost an inability to interact with the plot/design in any meaningful analytical way because any hint of negative connotation is immediately frowned upon, as if critique is not a route for people to enjoy media— it’s an ages old hobby and career & i don’t think that the novelty of the minecraft medium excludes a narrative from being analyzed and critiqued

[selsieeeo]

Another Drabble based off of @llondonfog potion!au

This time I decided to write it more in Andrei’s POV (Andrei being the guard who kidnaps silver and brainwashed him in Lettie’s potion!au) I don’t have a good title for this lol

I tried to connect it to this one shot as well

How things have changed so much.

He: Andrei used the guard of perhaps one of the most prestigious royal families ever to live. He had lived to serve the family with his life.

It all came crashing down when those fae…those bastardly fae from the kingdom of Briar Valley come swarming in, destroying the kingdom. Worst of all one of the most infamous Fae generals of all time: the Phantom General had stolen the baby prince.

He was just at the door to the nursery, severely injured and watched unable to do anything and watched with hatred towards the fae as the war criminal whisked the baby prince away.

Years swept by so easily, he lived in the remains of the fallen kingdom, constantly scheming a plan for revenge towards the fae and to take back the stolen prince. Seventeen years later, he had finally managed to acquire information on the whereabouts of the missing prince. The prince attended Night Raven College and his father was listed as…the Phantom General.

No matter, the fae was too old to attend some college so Andrei had gone and found the missing prince walking back to his dorms late at night. He must admit, the prince at first denied the idea of him being a prince and said he was just Silver, a retainer for the crown prince of the fae. Oh how the fae have brainwashed him truly. All it took was a tranquilliser drug he acquired to force him unconscious so he could whisk him away from this wretched place and undo all the brainwashing the fae had done to him.

It took some time, but the prince believed now believed him to have always been his guardian ever since his parents death. He trusted him and that was the most important thing. He must admit again, he hadn’t expected for the Phantom General to come crashing into the Shaftlands shrieking at him for stealing his son.

Honestly, what son? All he saw was a war criminal who had stolen the prince of the royal family he had served under for so long.

Soon he enrolled the prince to Royal Sword Academy. A better and more proper college for the prince to learn at. He was skilled at sword fighting, he grudgingly admitted the fae did a good thing in teaching him that. Soon the tournament came, the prince was selected as one of the representatives.

He watches from the field as the announcements go on and the representatives for the academy come out of the tent when suddenly bats swarm towards the representatives. Everyone had screamed, all but the prince who stared at the bats…fondly for some reason. He looked towards the direction of where the bats came from and saw him.

So the Phantom General was also attending college…

He made his way through the crowd to find the prince who slipped away to return the bats. He finds the prince talking to that fae.

“Silver there you are.” He calls out.

Silver turns and greets him. He also introduces him to the fae whose name is Lilia Vanrouge.

Andrei nodded slightly as he stared at the fae, placing a shoulder on the young prince. The prince broke the tension again trying to explain how Andrei was his guardian.

The former general’s face tightened slightly at that word. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Andrei.” The fae Said stiffly.

“Pleasure is all mine. Come Silver, you must have your daily tea now.” Andrei says as he guides the prince away from the fae. “You shouldn’t be talking to him.” He says to the silver haired prince.

The prince stares at him quizzically. “Why not? Is it because he’s a fae?”

“No, no.” Yes. “You just need to be careful with who you trust.” Andrei said smoothly.

“I trust you though. Should I be more careful with trusting you?”

“Your sarcasm fails to amuse me.” Andrei said flatly. “Let me redo your hair, it got messy from the sudden swarm of bats flying over.”

“Oh, it’s okay-“

“If this keeps up, it will become more not princely, young prince.”

“…”

“Silver.”

“…I know.”

“I am doing what’s right for you.”

The prince nods, not looking at Andrei. The former guard sighs. This is for the better good: He thinks to himself. If the brainwashing of the fae returns…he may require more doses of the potion if this keeps up.

All he has to do is ensure the prince has limited contact with the fae and then once the tournament is over, he’ll just give him a stronger dose of the potion.

[jonathanbyersphd]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Jonathan Byers/Nancy Wheeler Characters: Jonathan Byers, Nancy Wheeler Additional Tags: Future Fic, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Pregnancy, Married Life, Fluff and Humor Summary:

Nancy and Jonathan attempt to pick a name for their unborn daughter. Based on the prompt "Bunnies" from Jancy-Fanfic-Central on Tumblr

A sickeningly-sweet Oneshot for @jancy-fanfic-central ‘s Spring Fling prompts!

[safestofhands]

*shakes the f1 fandom*

what the fuck is pole. what the fuck is a safety car. wHAT THE FUCK IS A TEAM PRINCIPLE (or principal bruh wtf). WHAT IS A ROSBERG-HAMILTON!!!!! why are there teams when you drive cars by yourself. what in the 9 hells is p5/6/1293102598125 idk atp. how do you win. what do you win. what's the difference between a grand prix and a race and is there even a difference. why is ferrari shit (?). how does scoring/point accumulation work. why is the word for something of monagesque origin monagesque (so flamboyant and for WHAT). who is sebastian vettel and why is he a dad. what is going on with lestappen. WHY ARE YOU DRINKING SHIT OUT OF A BOOT.

*head in hands*

[incorrectpizza]

“Do you really have to leave?” Cal asks, again, as they walk down the Mantis’ ramp. 

“I must forge my own path for a little while.” Merrin says, again, as they reach the bottom.

She embraces Cal one last time.

“Good luck on the Jedi mission.” Merrin steps back slightly.

“Knock out some stormtroopers for me?” Cal jokes, and Merrin almost smiles.

Instead, she traces the faded scars on his cheek, watching as his pale skin darkens under her fingertips. 

She turns her head and brushes her lips against the spot. 

And then, she disappears in a green magick haze.