#Runes Protocol

[bitcoinmasterhub]

Bitcoin Activity Drops, But Price Growth Potential Remains

Bitcoin network activity sees a sharp decline, with daily transactions and mempool volumes dropping significantly due to reduced use of the RUNES protocol. #bitcoin #crypto #btc #memecoin #coin #eth #etf

A significant decline in Bitcoin network activity has been observed, marked by a sharp drop in transaction volumes. As of Friday, daily transactions have fallen to 346,000, a steep 53% drop from a peak of 734,000. This reduction in activity is further reflected in the Bitcoin mempool, where the number of unconfirmed transactions has plummeted by nearly 99%, from a high of 287,000 in December to…

[annajamessa]

Bitcoin Runes Protocol and Memecoins: A Look into 2024's Crypto Landscape

2024 has been a transformative year for cryptocurrencies. The Bitcoin halving in April and the emergence of the Bitcoin Runes protocol, developed by Casey Rodarmor (the creator of the Bitcoin Ordinals protocol) has significantly influenced the landscape of memecoins. This blog explores the impact of Bitcoin Runes and the resurgence of memecoins in the crypto market.

Limitations of BRC-20 Highlighting the Urgency of Better Solution

No Smart Contract Functionality: BRC-20 lacks support for smart contracts, limiting its application scope.

Limited Interoperability: Challenges in interoperability with other blockchains and wallets.

Limited Utility: Primarily for fungible assets, less suitable for complex token features.

Network Congestion: Contributes to slower transactions and higher fees due to Bitcoin blockchain limitations.

Bitcoin Runes - An Overview

Bitcoin Runes simplifies fungible token creation on the Bitcoin blockchain without relying on Bitcoin Ordinals. Utilizing OP_RETURN and UTXO models, the Bitcoin Runes protocol enhances efficiency and reduces network load.

Advantages of Bitcoin Runes:

Simplicity: Offers a simple way for token creation and management.

Increased Efficiency: Uses OP_RETURN for efficient and secure token transactions.

Broader Use Cases: Help crate helps various tokens, including stablecoins, tokenized assets, and more.

Improved Security: Secure token creation and transaction process.

Impact of Bitcoin Runes on MemeCoin Growth

The launch of the Bitcoin Runes protocol sparked the creation of numerous cryptocurrencies, particularly Bitcoin runes memecoins, leveraging enhanced functionality and security. Factors driving this surge include accessibility, innovation, and market dynamics.

Top 5 Memecoins on the Rise with Bitcoin Runes in 2024

KangaMoon (KANG)

Doge Killer’s (LEASH)

Book of Meme (BOME)

Shiba Inu (SHIB)

Coq Inu (COQ)

Final Words

Bitcoin Runes protocol promises to enhance Bitcoin’s utility and performance. Consulting blockchain experts like Antier can provide deeper insights into Bitcoin Runes memecoins, and related protocols, navigating the evolving landscape effectively.

[nigeriabitcoincommunity]

Runes Protocol: Everything You Need To Know!

In the early stages, Bitcoin was predominantly a payment system. However, today, new protocols have emerged to inject fun into the network, from Ordinals to BRC-20s, and now, we have the Runes protocol. Guess why Runes is the talk of the crypto town? For the very first time, Runes is bringing the degen culture to Bitcoin as it aims to allow the creation of meme coins on Bitcoin. Everything…

[wandixx]

GIW made a lot of mistakes and the biggest one was going against Young Justice part 2

part one is here

@whimsicalchaosgarden you asked to be tagged, sorry it took so long

Trigger warnings: mentions of experimentation and dehumanization (tell me if there is more appropriate way of phrasing it)

“So,” Robin started, taking the voice recorder out of his utility belt. “It'll probably be best if we get an explanation while making an accident report. This way we get it all over sooner”

Everyone agreed with this idea, standing in the loose circle in the debriefing area to make it all feel more serious. They had limited time before the next batch of cookies needed to be taken out of the oven and there was no way they all wouldn't devolve into chaos when it happened. M’gann knew from experience. 

To make sure they wouldn't take too long and cookies wouldn't turn on the fire alarm (again) both she and Danny set a timer.

In the meantime they had to learn who actually attacked them earlier.

“Phantom do the honors”

Danny froze for a moment, looking like deer caught in the headlight before he asked in a bit squeaky voice:

“How do I make an accident report?”

“Just say what happened but make it sound fancy,” Artemis explained. 

“Make a mission report and we'll fix it along the way,” Kaldur proposed.

“Answer ‘When? Where? Who was involved? What happened? What have you done about it?’ without excessive use of puns to avoid Bat-lecture” Robin helped, already in handstand.

“Bat-lecture? Really Rob?”

“So it's like lab report lite” Danny said before Robin did anything more than squawk indignantly “Alright, I can do it. Do you have any set phrase to start? And which accident report is it, in the database?"

“44th… How about ‘[Hero name], report’? Sounds serious enough.”

Everyone agreed, so after a moment of silence Kaldur did the honors.

“Phantom, report”

Danny straightened, rolling his shoulders back and locked his eyes in the middle distance. It was a bit eerie how fast he went from relaxed and goofy to almost emotionless statue. M’gann wished to never encounter it again, thank you very much.

“Incident report no. 45 made by Young Justice member Phantom, regarding an attack from earlier today, 26th April 20XX. The Young Justice Team, later referred to as the Team, went on a trip to an amusement park staying currently in the city of Happy Harbour. It was an activity meant to strengthen interpersonal relationships within the Team, previously green-lit by Red Tornado. Every member was in civilian attire as per protocol. Around 3:15 PM, after two and a half hours, the Team were disturbed by a group of ten armed people, recognized by member Phantom as belonging to Ghost Investigation Ward, colloquially known as GIW or Guys In White because of their uniforms. Later in the report the organization will be referred to as the GIW. Two shots were fired by the assailants, targeting but not reaching member Phantom. Members of the GIW were hostile but with use of humor and threat of legal actions, the Team managed to diffuse the situation before it endangered passerbys. Despite direct attack, none of the Team members’ identities were compromised. Assailants left the confrontation with belief that Phantom left his ectoplasmic signature on an unrelated civilian. Agents refused to admit they were working for the GIW since its operations break a couple of laws of the state Rhode Island. Because of that, their appearance was reported to local law enforcement and taken care of. No injuries or damage to the city infrastructure were sustained other than two burns in the asphalt in the place of confrontation. Required follow-up with local law enforcement in civilian attire as victims of assault. End of report” Danny sighed, easing back into a more natural position. “This good?” he asked, with a sheepish smile.

“Perfect”

“How are you so good at reporting? You didn’t even know what to do a second ago? That’s just unfair”

“I used to write my parent’s lab reports. It’s pretty similar in form”

“Lab-”

“Follow-up to the report only, Kid-Flash,” Robin interrupted “Phantom. elaborate on who were the assailants”

Danny stepped back from himself again.

“GIW is a ghost hunting organization supported and accredited by the state government in Illinois, legally operating also in states Wisconsin and Ohio. Their goal is to catch and examine ecto-entities to learn more about their biology and ways to obliterate them. Obviously their plans for experimentation don’t include consideration of ghosts’ well-being”

“Damn, that’s messed up”

“They wouldn't catch a blob ghost if they tried,” Danny shrugged, though something was wrong with the gesture. She wasn't sure though, so she moved on.

“Then why were you scared?” M’gann pressed on instead.

“My parents… are, you know, prominent ghost hunters so when GIW opened we all got a tour around the whole building. The lab was… it made me imagine things I wished I had never thought about”

“They have labs? Like evil labs?” Robin perked up like a kid who just heard that Christmas came early. “How could you hide it from us?!” he added, falling to hang on Danny's shoulder. He twirled a bit to catch the left one even though before he stood on halfa’s right side. Dramatic as always “Conner, we have a birthday gift for you!”

“What does GIW’s lab have to do with my birthday?”

“The potential!” Robin yelled, straightening for a better effect.

Everyone started laughing. Well, everyone other than Conner who just looked at them confused.

“He probably wants to storm another lab, bring up nostalgia of our first meeting,” Kaldur calmed down just enough to explain.

“Tell me you wouldn't like to punch an evil scientist,” Wally added, almost dropping to the floor. 

“This does sound nice”

“And THIS is exactly the reason why I haven't told you all. Thanks for spoiling my surprise Rob,” Danny lied, though he did his best to sound truthful. He even projected some false mirth.

It would take much more to trick M’gann though. She abruptly stopped laughing.

“You're lying. Why actually haven't you told us?” she demanded maybe a little too harshly, but she was worried. Everyone froze for a moment, before turning to look at Danny.

“They're all bark no bite, and aim worse than Stormtroopers’, so I haven't considered them important enough to report”

Other's didn’t know, of course, but M’gann knew just how terrified Danny was during the confrontation and how echoes of that fear soured air around him even hours later.

Everyone did realize this explanation was a tone of bullshit though. 

Apparently incredulous stares were enough of the response.

“You and the Justice League have more important things to deal with than some shitty local laws”

“Bullshit again,” Artemis burst her lips “This is exactly what Justice League is for”

“I already found people to help me lobby against them”

“And why aren't we on the list?” 

Danny fell silent, not looking anyone in the eyes, which was quite a feat considering they had him in a half circle. M’gann considered moving to his side to show her support. Stare down like that had to be quite stressful.

Why not actually. She stepped closer, and drew him in the loose side hug. Danny tensed, which wasn't abnormal for him. He usually relaxed in about thirty seconds, if he didn't, she'd let go.

“I didn't expect them to breach the containment…”

“Each of these lies is worse, you know? Like, insulting our intelligence level of worse,” Artemis interrupted once more, pinning him with her eyes alone “Give us truth or stop talking”

Danny raised his head to look back at Artemis and mimed zipping his mouth shut and throwing the key away. 

“Really?”

Boy just shrugged, not breaking eye contact.

“Alright, let's move on to the next question, how did it get approved in the first place?” Wally interrupted, waving his hand between them. They both shook off like dogs fresh out of water.

“Couldn't you wait five more seconds until I won?” 

“Ha! You wish Artemis. Though you could give us a moment”

“I gave you literal ages”

Danny snorted “Sorry, I keep forgetting how impatient you are”

“Oh shut up, my brain is just faster than yours, you slowpokes”

“Sure, sure”

“He made a good point,” Kaldur said “This shouldn’t even pass. And even if, you’re legally a Meta”

“Normal ghosts aren’t and halfas being a thing is not exactly common knowledge among the living”

“I’ll never get used to this distinction”

“I believe in you, Rob”

“What about ‘Extraterrestrial, extradimensional and otherwise previously unincluded’ Optional Protocol to the ‘International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights’?”

“Oh my god Conner, you’re the only person to say the whole name ever”

“Hey!”

“It all comes down to the definition of the ghost and the fact that Alien addition uses sentience and sapience as a ground to give anyone said rights. And also, US signed it but didn’t ratify it so…”

“Isn’t it same thing?”

“Nope. I thought so too, but apparently signing anything means nothing unless it’s also ratified, so I’m kinda fucked. Can’t even get the UN to frown at them disapprovingly, because officially, nothing was agreed to. And you know, even if they ratified it, ecto-scientists conducted enough research to prove we aren’t sapient enough to have these rights anyway. Just most of the states didn’t need to make a law out of it”

“That’s rough buddy”

“Are you really quoting Avatar at me right now? Really Artemis?”

“Yes”

“Wasn’t Avatar this movie with blue people? I don’t think they said that there”

M’gann wasn’t quite sure why human members seemed to be appalled by the question.

“We’re going to fix that later-”

“What exactly is there to be fixed, because I feel like we’re talking about to different things”

“- but for now can we go back to the whole ‘ghosts have no rights in Illinois’ thing” Robin continued, completely ignoring Conner’s questions.

“Illinois, Wisconsin and Ohio. There are portals to the Zone in two of these states. GIW already tried to send nuke through one of them”

“How Americana of them,” Kaldur muttered.

“If you have another insane tidbit about them, please share it all now. My mind can’t utilize any more revelations like that”

“I handled it, don’t worry”

“Someone tried to nuke literal Afterlife…”

“Yup, get on the schedule Kid Flash. You’re supposed to be fast”

M’gann knocked her arm into his, kinda as a ‘don’t be mean’ message. Danny kinda tensed, but soon relaxed back and moved his head as if he wanted to lay it on her shoulder. Excitement of the day was clearly catching up to him.

M’gann wouldn’t be mad if he did laid his head there.

“Why do we learn about it just now?”

“I wrote the report, not my fault you haven’t read it”

“Can’t fault us for assuming we’d know every important thing from your endless bitching!”

Danny straightened and laughed, in this horrible humorless way that made M’gann want to claw at her brain until she couldn’t hear or sense any of it.

Instead, she brought her other hand up and just held him tighter.

Thankfully the whole spectacle didn’t last long.

“It’s cute that you think I bitch about anything important”

“Phantom…”

“Don’t Phantom me right now. Even if by some miracle they managed to send the missile to the Zone, it most likely wouldn’t have worked. They’re mostly just a joke.”

“They managed to shot you. Right upper arm or shoulder”

“Don’t deny it, we’ve seen you wince when I leaned on you and when M’gann hugged you”

Martian tried to let go hearing that, but Danny held her in place. She stayed where she was but carefully moved her hand away from the slightly damp area on his shirt. She suddenly caught on everything that was wrong with him, now that she knew to look for it.

“I got worse from the hand of my house’s security system”

“You… understand that it’s… like… way worse, right?”

“You don’t know life until you hear threats of dissection against your alter ego after stopping death ray with bowl of cereal,” he said, relaxing more into her side again. He sounded absolutely exhausted.

“Do you want to move in here? Until we deal with this whole GIW and assorted mess?” she said instead. Conner nodded, surprisingly eager to share the space that he considered somewhat sacred.

“Nope, I’m good, I’m needed there”

“You could Zeta- yeah, no, nevermind, it wasn’t good idea. But we could make it work”

“You still should-”

“It’s fine. I mean, I have it handled and it doesn’t affect that many people. And we’re working on it. It’s fine”

“It really is not,” Conner growled.

“You need your arm patched up” M’gann demanded, ignoring previous conversation, with eyes still fixed on the blood that stained her forearm. She should’ve destroyed at least Operative K.

“I bandaged it up”

“It soaked through then. Let’s go to med–”

Loud shrill interrupted her, because of course it did.

“Oh, look, convenient distraction! Let’s take the cookies out before they get burned!”

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” M’gann stated in a way that allowed no argument “You’re getting away for now only because I’m holding most of your weight right now”

“Sure we will. And I can stand on my own, thank you very much”

“I’ve heard many lies today and this might be the worst of them. We’re going to Medbay as soon as the cookies are out”

“You’ve got it boss”

[ultraeztia]

I KEPT JOKING ABOUT FEI APPEARING AND THIS MF BEING RELATED TO CRYPTIX BUT HOLY SHIT ITS REAL

IM LOOSING MY MIND RAAAAH

[extinction3den]

Wait I'm not the only one who's realised that all the cult members we know of (who are still alive) are also in the tmagp universe) eg: from the recent ep LAVEREN.

Like 'Rune Laveren' is not a real name. I refuse to believe so. That is cultist Laveren, Melanie's therapist from tma.

I AM NOT DELUSIONAL.

[liminalitycarb]

I have been waiting for this game for years. And it isn't out yet, BUT THE BETA DEMO IS!

I'm going to be playing Rune Fencer Illyia over on Twitch.

And afterwards, No Crits Allowed will be heading into The Omega Protocol for day 5 of prog.

Watch both over on Twitch: https://twitch.tv/LiminalityCarb

[intelisync]

Bitcoin's Next Frontier: Runes Protocol and Fungible Tokens 2024

The introduction of the Runes Protocol on the Bitcoin blockchain in April 2024 represents a pivotal moment in the cryptocurrency landscape. Developed by Casey Rodarmor, this protocol enables the seamless creation and management of fungible tokens directly within the Bitcoin ecosystem, expanding its functionality and attracting a diverse range of developers and businesses. Leveraging the UTXO model and OP_RETURN opcode, Runes ensures efficient token management while maintaining compatibility with Bitcoin's existing infrastructure. Despite facing challenges such as integration complexities and transaction costs, Runes offers a standardized token protocol that promotes interoperability and consistency, positioning Bitcoin as a leading platform for tokenization.

With the launch of Runes, Bitcoin enters a new phase of tokenization, offering users unprecedented flexibility in creating and managing custom tokens. By utilizing the UTXO model and OP_RETURN opcode, Runes streamlines token operations while ensuring seamless integration with Bitcoin's robust infrastructure. However, challenges such as integration hurdles and transaction costs need to be addressed to fully unlock the potential of Runes. Nonetheless, Runes represents a significant advancement for Bitcoin, fostering innovation and expanding its utility in the broader blockchain ecosystem.

As Runes gains momentum and developers explore its capabilities, the future of Bitcoin tokenization looks promising. From decentralized finance platforms to digital collectibles and loyalty programs, Runes opens up a myriad of possibilities for token creation and management on Bitcoin. With its emphasis on interoperability and standardization, Runes lays the foundation for widespread adoption and innovation within the Bitcoin ecosystem. For businesses seeking to capitalize on the potential of cryptocurrency, partnering with industry experts like Intelisync can provide invaluable support in navigating the complexities of token development and integration, unlocking new Learn more....

[unabashednightmarepizza]

𝙒𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙇𝙞𝙛𝙚 𝙢𝙚𝙚𝙩𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙑𝙤𝙞𝙙

Author Note: Hey... How yall doing? (anxious sweating). Okay, I know I have been pretty much absent for the past year or so, but I literally lost the ability and want to write so, I was just silently liking and reblogging a bunch fanfics, playing my silly video games and struggling with college here and there... Then, my Marvel fangirl era came back with the movie "Thunderbolts" and here I am.... With 8060 words for the FIRST chapter of a series... If anyone read my Moon Knight fic, it will be kind of similar to it but also not, with me adding a new perspective to the Void. I am assuming this to be not too long of a serie (if I keep the 8K word band going) but we will see! Hopefully, you guys will like it and my take on the cutie Bob!

Oh and... THUNDERBOLTS REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

Warnings for the series: Self-deprecating thoughts, struggles (mental and physical), Entity dramas, trauma, death, a little bit of humor, free-therapy, childhood trauma, domestic abuse, torture, blood, gore, the Void and the Sentry (I think they are enough of a warning by alone)...

Tagging: @magikdarkholme

“Did you just say we need to go to... where?”

Bucky was sure his new teammates were either stupid or feigning stupidity.

Between Ghost’s erratic phasing fits, U.S. Agent’s unwavering faith in fists over brains, and whatever the hell Red Guardian called a plan to deal with the many problems the newly formed “New Avengers” had, Bucky had seen enough chaos. The Void wasn’t just another mission—this was Bob Reynolds. This was a walking time bomb with the potential to turn the world inside out if Sentry lost control again, as he called it.

As if he didn’t care about the man’s well-being and understood his pain of  identity crisis, as if Bob wasn’t the new adopted member of their highly nonfunctional friend group that soon turned into a chaotic family.

And now, with the Thunderbolts half-functioning and Val refusing to listen, Bucky knew he needed real help. Not reckless, government-backed muscle. And absolutely no self-interested Val.

He needed her.

So, against every protocol and behind Valentina’s back, he found himself silently looking at the device you had generously given him before departing from the Earth. A golden globe with ancient runes of your people carved into it, small wings sprouting from the top of it as he found himself smiling after such a long time.

You truly were the Life itself, warming him up even if you weren’t there.

Asgard was different now, at least he believed it was—more grounded, more accessible although you kind of sticked to the traditional ways of your people—but still carried the strange, quiet hum of power underneath its cobblestone streets and tavern-laced ports. Their Queen was even stranger—regal and radiant, but unshakably human. She laughed like a thunderclap, she was messy and somehow addicted to any kind of junk food she could get her hands to and held herself like she bore galaxies in her chest.

Because she did.

She was Life itself, cloaked in mortal form, the entity who shook the entire universe and bared a trial you refused to tell to anyone so that you could revive your people and home back to life, eventually becoming the new Protector and Ruler of the Nine Realms.

And you also happened to be Bucky’s best friend. Odd pairing, sure. The former Winter Soldier and a literal cosmic embodiment. But your friendship had been forged in the strangest of fires—mutual survival, long silences, and shared understanding of what it meant to be the weapon someone else or thin had forged.

And his stupid yet naive childhood merged with your “teenage-hood”. As much as it was considered that when you didn’t get old, instead changed your form.

Everyone else saying something, as usual. Bucky hadn’t even finished explaining his plan before the room exploded into chaos.

Alexei and Ava was loudly berating each other “affectionately, Yelena was just humming to his plan with a dagger in her hand since she already knew you (despite the fact that she tried to kill you for what happened to Natasha, deeming you the guilty one, but eventually learning the truth). She hadn’t said a word to him directly since Bucky brought up going to New Asgard.

Not that he blamed her.

And then there was Walker. U.S. Agent had that expression again—like he was one word away from taking it personally as he sat on the couch widely, with an expression on the border of frustration, as if he still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that there were Gods and Goddesses in real life. “So, let me get this straight. You want us to stand down while you go cozy up to some interstellar goddess?”

“She’s not some goddess,” Bucky bit out harshly, blue eyes as cold as steel as he stared at the blonde. “She’s the only one who can keep Bob from tearing himself or another city in half.”

“You sure she’s on our side?” Alexei asked gruffly as he chewed on yet another bar, one that was your favourite Bucky noticed. He didn’t blame the older Russian for his hesitance, after all, he and Yelena were the only ones who never your nature and how to talk to you (It wasn’t that hard or complicated, despite you being a cosmic entity. All you needed to easily cave in were some chocolate, some shiny jewelry and a good Cappuccino). But of course, they didn’t know that, and they didn’t encounter a Goddess or, well, the literal personification of Life, but hey, it didn’t seem like he was completely against the idea of going to you.

The same couldn’t be said for Ava and John, with the later one being more... aggressive at the prospect of such thing.

“She’s on my side,” Bucky said, sharp and final. He leant back on the couch with a silent groan, muscles screaming for one very hot bath. Maybe he could have one of those hot springs you had in Asgard. “And that’s enough.”

The silence that followed wasn’t exactly agreement, but it wasn’t outright rebellion either.

In Thunderbolts terms, that was practically a standing ovation.

“I repeat again: I said we need to go to the Asgard and seek help from the Queen if we want to help Bob. She is the only one who might know the Void.”

Walker scoffed from the corner, arms crossed. “Great. So the plan is we go knock on the front door of literal gods and ask for mental health advice? Sounds foolproof.”

Yelena popped a piece of gum into her mouth, lounging across the couch with her boots on the table. “I mean, better than your last plan of dealing with mental problems. What was it again? Run straight into a wall of bullets and hope for the adrenalin to do the work?”

Walker rolled his eyes. “Worked, didn’t it?”

“No,” Ghost said flatly, phasing halfway through the wall like she wanted to escape the conversation. “You were in the med bay for three days.”

Red Guardian grunted, tightening his gloves. “Bah! I like this plan. Finally, some honor! Gods, glory—maybe I get to fight a thunder beast! Reminds me of my prime!”

“You haven’t had a prime since the '80s,” Yelena said dryly without looking up, arms folded as she leaned against the fluffy couch.

“Yeah, well, I want to make the part with ‘might know’ highlighted! I ain’t going there!” Walker exclaimed once again on his seat, slamming a fist on the table like it would make his argument more valid. Both Ava and Yelena roller their eyes and even Alpine just stood there and hissed lowly and Bucky could swear she too rolled her eyes.

Bucky didn’t even look up, already fed up with all the loudness, as he got up for the kitchen and get a glass of water. “Why? Because she beat your ass up easily without moving an inch back in your jackass days?”

Yelena snorted. Ava straight-up wheezed.

Walker turned a shade of red that didn’t look healthy. “That was a long time ago. I was off my game.”

“Sure, man,” Yelena said with a grin, eyes sparkling with mischief. “She was literally braiding her hair while you were trying to throw a shield at her. I think she yawned.”

“Besides...” Bucky cut in before Walker and Yelena could start another verbal brawl that could escalate into a real one. “I already talked to her about it. Like a week ago.”

That made the room fall into a momentary silence.

Yelena’s brow lifted, the dagger stilling in her hand. “Wait. You already told her?” “Yeah.”

Alexei blinked from his spot next to the wall, arms crossed in front of his chest, intrigued by such... silence from a Goddess that could wipe out the entire universe if she pleased. “Then what is she waiting for?”

“For Bob to be ready.”

No one answered immediately.

Even Walker stopped posturing.

Because that meant the Queen—Life, the one force that could oppose the Void without unraveling reality—wasn't going to interfere until Bob Reynolds, the man at the center of it all, was willing to face what was inside him.

“She said,” Bucky continued, voice clipped with a hint of guilt, “that she doesn’t overwrite people and their fates. She meets them. Even the broken ones. Especially the broken ones... That the Void isn’t just something you fight,” Bucky replied, his voice low. “It’s something Bob has to face—willingly. Or it’ll tear through him and everyone around him trying to claw its way out.”

Ghost reappeared halfway through the floor with a frown. “And we’re just supposed to sit on our hands while he falls apart?”

“No,” Bucky said, meeting her eyes. “We get him there. She’ll help. But only when he accepts it. For now, we keep him grounded. Keep him human.”

Alexei scratched at his beard. “So this is… therapy quest? With Norse gods?”

Yelena gave him a blank stare. “Everything’s a therapy quest with this team. None of us actually has great pasts anyways.”

Walker threw up his hands. “This is ridiculous. We’re not babysitters—we’re soldiers.”

“You’re right,” Bucky snapped, sharper than before as he sharply set the glass down. So hard that everyone was kind of curious how it didn’t break. “We are soldiers. So act like it. We don’t leave anyone behind, remember? Or does that only apply when it’s convenient for you?”

That shut Walker up, at least for the moment.

Ghost looked away. Yelena stopped humming.

Seemingly, everyone was retreated back to their minds to think about their next course of action or make sense of what Bucky meant by “She is on my side.”. How could a literal goddess be on the side of one mortal man? Well, not exactly mortal but still human... Aren’t the Goddesses and Gods supposed to be neutral?

Well, in most cases yes. But in Bucky’s case, he was aware that she made some exceptions for him even though she shouldn’t, and she never talked about the troubles she would get into because of that (others Gods were not happy you cared for humanity that much).

You never said much about the consequences, only wore that same quiet smile whenever Bucky questioned you. A smile that hid wars fought in secret skies, negotiations whispered behind divine veils, and sacrifices no mortal—or even semi-mortal—would ever be allowed to understand. But he saw the strain sometimes. In your eyes. In the way you would allow yourself to touch his face like he was both precious and fleeting and hug him.

As if you were desperate, craving that kind of connection

“She shouldn’t choose a side,” Steve would often say, especially after learning who you were and what you were capable of doing when he got out of the ice and it was your face he saw first. His voice would often turn somber, quiet, but firm whenever you and how much you sacrificed were mentioned. You didn’t see it that way, more like “taking care of two more little brothers who were unaware to the ways of world.

“That’s not how this works.”

He remembered the last time he saw you—really saw you, not in passing glimpses, not in dreams or between the flashes of battle from his time as the Winter Soldier. The stars had bent toward you like flowers to the sun, and your voice had been threaded with something desperate whenever he would remember your words in a hazy daze of the memory erasing HYDRA did to him. You told him to stay alive. Not to win. Not to save the world. Just—stay alive. As if that alone would be enough.

He had been through so much and as much as he can remember, and as far as others told him, you were mostly there. Even when he was in ice, even when he went berserk as the Soldier, you waited... Like you said many times, you didn’t intervene, you couldn’t for reasons you didn’t explain except “I did once... and It costed me a great price.”...

As a result, he never understood how people did not see the same kind and caring woman... But he also understood their look on you because once, after he got away from HYDRA, he was like them too. Though you didn’t care, that you abandoned him, that you took satisfaction at watching him struggle... Without knowing you were also dealing with your own struggles and... voids.

Bucky’s mind went back to the conversation you two had a week ago, inside his room, as he watched the team trying to decide on what to do with the new common room’s decoration. Although some people might have thought it to be a casual phone call, or him actually visiting Asgard physically... They forget the fact that you were a transcendent being who wasn’t bound to only one physical plane of existence. Someone who could easily get into the minds of people without them ever noticing, seeing the deepest secrets they hid away in their consciousness.

“James,” you said warmly, stepping down from the dais. After everything, it was nice seeing your best friend although he looked frazzled at being in your palace. He... didn’t remember visiting you. “I knew we both got old but you look far worse than I expected. Something is troubling you.” He turned. You weren’t dressed in royal robes today—just a long, dark tunic and loose braids, light dancing at her fingertips like fireflies. She always glowed subtly. Not from ego. From existence. And by some weird instinct as he looked into your expectant eyes, he understood you used your magic on him to seep into his mind. “I hate how you became more mysterious and unexpected after becoming the Ruler of Nine Realms, with your magical hands and all.” he chuckled under his breath as you slowly moved towards him, turning your body around so that instead of looking out the waterfalls you so adored of your homeland, you looked straight at him. A warm smile, and a loud laugh filled up his mind as he felt his tenseness and stress over the few months after the New York accident.

“I do not have magic only on my hands, friend. I am the magic... Besides, my mom was raised by witches and I was raised by her. What did you expect?” You let out a soft giggle that made him let out a relaxed sigh and take a step towards you. Your eyes shifted towards a more “I missed you” look as you took a good look at your best friend. His figure is broad, but not as imposing as it once was. His black tactical coat hangs heavy off his frame like armor worn too long. His vibranium arm glints faintly, muted under dreamlight, chipped in places where the plating has seen too many fights. His flesh arm—scarred and tense—hangs by his side, fingers twitching as if clenching onto ghosts he never quite managed to bury. His face tells the rest of the story. Unshaven. Tired. The lines around his mouth are deeper, not just from age, but from guilt that settled into his bones and made a home there. His hair, longer now, curls behind his ears in a disheveled way, like he stopped caring about appearances once the missions stopped being about redemption and started being about survival.

And his eyes—blue, once sharp with mischief—are dulled with exhaustion. The kind of tired that doesn’t come from sleepless nights, but from existing too long under the weight of things he was never meant to carry. He looks like a man always halfway between moving forward and waiting for the next blow. “ However, that magic cannot help you if you don’t stop brooding and explain your troubles. Like the good old days.” “Thanks. Got a Void problem. Figured Life might know what to do.” he shrugged his shoulders, accepting the drink you offered. That got your attention. “You’re talking about Bob Reynolds.” you hummed quietly. “Yeah. Sentry’s fraying again. The Thunderbolts think they can contain it. They can’t. I’ve seen what happens when he breaks.”

“He’s not fully gone yet. He’s still… trying. But it’s getting louder in him. And I don’t trust the team they put together to handle this. Hell, I don’t even trust me.” You didn’t flinch. You didn’t react. You just looked at him with a tilted head and a hard stare.  “And you want me to intervene, think I can stop him?” The Queen's gaze turned hard, divine power flickering just beneath her skin. Bucky’s mouth opened, then closed. He didn’t look at her. Not fully. His gaze stayed just off her shoulder, like meeting her eyes might burn him. Or worse—like he didn’t think he deserved to. “I think you’re the only one who can match him. Light to his darkness. You’re not just a queen—you’re the counterweight. He’s the Void. You’re the Life. If we don’t end it now, there won’t be a later.” You looked up at him with a softness no one else ever received. Having lived with humans for many years throughout different times, you always though you understood their understanding and reasoning. But each and every time, much like now, proved you otherwise with their first instinct at the face of crisis was to...get rid of it. They called it “solving the problem from its root” but... was that really necessary? Huh, maybe you were turning out to be more human than you let on. “James. I don’t end people.” “You did once,” he reminded, voice low. “ With Thanos-”

“That was a mercy.” Your voice turned cold, glare harder than ever as the sun of Asgard dimmed fast for a second, only to reappear once more. But it didn’t change the suddenly cold and heavy atmosphere in the throne room as he took a slow breath. As if he was being drowned slowly... He knew how the name tasted bitter and your usually soft and understanding heart that would light up the way of the lost ones, much like him, would immediately grow cold and sharp. He cannot blame you for all the things you had to do because of that “eggplant” as you called him. “That thing didn’t want to exist anymore.” He swallowed hard. “What if Bob doesn’t either?” The silence stretched, not empty, but thrumming with power and grief. The silence was not the absence of sound as Bucky could still hear the people chattering outside, the waterfalls and birds, the ships cruising on the air and the water, but the presence of everything unsaid was thick like the air before a storm. It pressed into the skin, settled heavy in the chest, made every breath feel like inhaling from deep underwater. It hummed with power restrained, until you finally spoke. “That’s not your decision to make. Nor mine.”

“But if he asks, if he begs—” Bucky stepped forward, desperation flickering across his face, his metal hand curling tightly at his side. “You’ve seen what the Void does to him, then. He tears himself apart just trying to breathe, to control himself so that he doesn’t hurt others. Hell, he doesn’t even care about what would happen to him!” You walked past him, having circled around him as he explained his situation, eyes on the horizon, far beyond the gilded windows of the throne room and perhaps even beyond the world itself. Your figure, wrapped in flowing robes of deep indigo and gold-threaded silver, seemed carved from moonlight and silence, too regal to be disturbed by mere pleading. The air shifted in your wake, perfumed with soft notes of sandalwood and snow bloom. Each step you took down the polished obsidian stairs echoed like a pronouncement. “The Void feeds on despair, fear, erasure. It doesn’t kill you. It unravels you, rewrites you, until there’s nothing left to remember. That’s what he’s afraid of—not dying, but becoming nothing. Again.” you spoke out without looking at him, or else he would notice the shake of your hands... at the mention of a being that is not so different than you. You continued without a look at him.

“I have seen it,” you whispered. “And I’ve felt it. The way the Void slithers through his soul like ice, like teeth, like silence too loud to bear. I know.”

You came to a slow stop, robes pooling around your feet like rippling shadows. Only then did you glance back over your shoulder. Your gaze was level, piercing—not cruel, but ancient. Tired. Tired not in body, but in soul. The kind of fatigue that comes from watching too many people run headlong into the same fire, convinced their determination would keep them from burning. James’ breath caught as your gaze bored into his—fierce, mournful, determined. “But Bob Reynolds is still there. And until that fragment of him says he’s ready to go, I will not be the blade that ends him. I will not be the Queen who grants death when it is healing that is needed.” He blinked, as if trying to process your words through a fog. “But what if there’s no healing left for him?” he weakly says because he saw everything, every cry and scream after a particular nightmare. He’d seen the man curled in a corner of the darkened chambers, trembling with hands that could tear planets apart but now only clutched his own skull as if trying to hold himself together. Heard the hoarse cries, the guttural sobs that cracked like glass underfoot. The way he’d begged—not for salvation, but for silence. For stillness. For an end. Bucky had sat beside him once, blood on Bob’s fingertips—not from battle, but from scratching at the skin of his own arms, as though he could dig the Void out with his nails. And he had said nothing. Because what could he say to a broken man who feared the thing living inside him? Something that was him but also not? He understood that feeling, when he was too scared of the “Winter Soldier” appearing again and hurting random people... But in his despair, you and Wakanda had supported him through everything and he... he survived. When he thought he wouldn’t, that he would have to live with this time-bomb in him, you and Wakanda had healed him. So now, as he stood before you—his Queen, his best friend, mentor and savior, the only one he trusted to make the call—he wasn’t questioning your strength. He was afraid Bob Reynolds had none left to borrow. “Are you waiting for him to fall apart?” “No,” you said, turning back to him, heart softening as you took his hand between yours and squeezed... Before you hit the back of his head harshly.. “I’m waiting for him to face it. I won’t force that. Life doesn't conquer the Void, James. It reaches it. Offers a hand, not a sword.” He stared with a pained look on his face, hand idly rubbing his head because it hurted. He forgot how heavy your hand was, both naturally and because of fighting for such a long time with many weapons that he could name it...but it would take days to finish the list. “That might not be enough.” You sighed tiredly, quietly descending the final step, and now your voice took on the texture of velvet lined with iron . Oh, how you forgot James was a stubborn asshole.

“How are you so sure,” you began, voice edged with something sharper now, something tired and sharp as a blade honed too often, “that he would go berserk?” you approached the topic in a different way, hoping to make him see your reasoning. “Excuse me?”he replied, confusion and caution winding tightly in his voice. “You talk like he’s already gone. Like he’s a loaded gun just waiting to fire. But you never say why.” You stepped closer, the air around you suddenly colder, heavier—not with menace, but with the truth you were about to lay bare. “Why are you truly scared, James? And don’t give me the crap of being a hero thing, I am not buying it.” “So tell me, James. Is it because he’s dangerous? Or is it because you saw something in him… something you saw in yourself?” His lips parted slightly, but the words caught in his throat, as if the very truth he’d been dodging was suddenly too close to confront. He clenched his fists, the metal hand faintly shimmering in the dim light of the throne room. You studied him—his every muscle tensed, his gaze downcast, his entire being caught in the web of past battles and old scars. “You think you had a choice in the matter? That you chose to be turned into that weapon?” His jaw tightened, and he turned his head slightly, as if unwilling to meet your gaze. But the quiet challenge in your question lingered, pushing against the walls of his heart. “You were broken, James. Just like Bob.” Your words were soft but carried the weight of the years you had seen the agony of humans. “You were the monster once. But you didn’t give up. You didn’t let the darkness take you. Why are you so ready to assume that Bob’s beyond saving?” The silence that followed was thick, suffocating in its complexity. He could feel it—the raw truth in your words, pulling him into a realization he wasn’t ready to face. He wasn’t ready to see how closely he and Bob were bound by their pain, by the choices they never got to make, and the things they thought could never be fixed. And how it all changed with the subtle help of a certain Goddess he knew. “He deserves that chance, even if the world has long since given up on him. Even if he wants to-” “You think I don’t know that? I know. I just… I’m scared. I’m scared that if we let him keep going, he’ll turn into the thing he hates most. And if the Void—” “I have faced the Void,” your voice cut him in the middle as he widened his eyes, knitting his brows in confusion at the sudden noncholant look on your face, serene yet amused at the same time. Then, slowly, deliberately, you stepped closer. The ambient light flickered across your features, illuminating the regal fire behind your gaze. “You forget what I was before this throne, before the crown and the titles that make the universe and every inhabitant bow. I have held back stars from collapse, James. I’ve screamed into the abyss until it screamed back.” Asilent beat... Bucky held his breath with anxiety until... “ Less loudly, of course.” You giggled and soon his on-guard behavior evaporated, just like that. You were back to the friend he knew, all smiley, soft and understanding. He surely knew how worthy you were of your other title now that he witnessed your anger. “I will not let Bob Reynolds be swallowed without a fight. Not by the Void, and not by himself... But for that, I also need his help.” James looked down, pain etched across his features, guilt sharpening every line. “I just don’t want to lose anyone else,” he muttered. “Not to war, not to darkness… not to mercy.” Your hand cupped his cheek—warm, gentle again, your thumb brushed the faint stubble there, grounding him in the now. . “Then help me save him.” He leaned into your touch slightly. “Even if he doesn’t believe he’s worth saving?” You gave a bittersweet smile. “ When did humans ever believe in themselves?” You muttered to yourself amused as you gave a determined nod. “Believe for him… until he can.”

..

The door hissed open before him with a polite chime, one that somehow made the silence on the other side feel even heavier. Bob stepped into the Watchtower’s living room—barefoot, book still in hand, thumb tucked between worn pages like he’d meant to come back to it. The title was some obscure thing from the archives, philosophy soaked in poetry, too heavy for what little sleep he’d had. His shirt clung to him from where he’d curled into the armchair earlier, sweat-damp from another dream that didn’t belong to him.

His footsteps were soft against the polished composite flooring—quiet enough that neither of them noticed at first.

The room was dimly lit, walls aglow with that sterile white-blue of orbital tech, like a hospital made of stars. The glass panels looked out over Earth: whole, spinning, oblivious. For a second, he pretended he was too.

Bob hadn’t meant to listen. Not really. But they weren’t exactly subtle. And no one ever noticed when he was still on the doorway, after cleaning around the kitchen and drying the dishes, retreating back to his room with blinding light and a huge bookcase enough to cover the whole room.

Not even Bucky, who was observational most of the times.

So he stood quietly in the corner, slouched over himself anxiously as he played with the deep blue sweater he wore, a comfort item from that time, watching them argue for his sake like he wasn’t the reason half the room had stopped sleeping with both eyes closed. His hoodie was pulled low over his face, sleeves frayed from being twisted in his nervous grip. He looked like a man trying to vanish.

But inside?

Inside, he was screaming.

She’s waiting for Bob to be ready.

The words kept ringing in his head like a church bell cracked in half.

Ready?

He didn’t even know what that meant anymore. Was it being ready to fight? Ready to die? Or worse—ready to live again, knowing what he was?

Bob Reynolds hated himself.

Not in the way people say when they mess up or fall short—not in frustration. No. Bob’s hatred was quiet. Constant. Structural. Like his very existence was a mistake that kept happening. Every breath he took felt like a borrowed one. Every kind word someone gave him felt like it was meant for someone else entirely.

Because he knew what he was.

He was the guy who destroyed entire cities when he thought he was saving them. The one who couldn't remember if he killed people, only that he probably did. The man with god-tier power and the emotional stability of a wet paper bag.

And the worst part?

There was no evil mastermind to blame. No alien parasite. No secret chip in his neck. It was just... him.

The power. The sickness. The Void. It was all tangled together so tightly that he didn’t know where Bob ended and the monster began.

“You’re not a monster,” Bucky had told him once, eyes heavy with meaning, as they sat together in the common room after yet another nightmare Bob had. And for a split second, Bob believed it.

Until he blinked and saw a flash of black tendrils at the edge of his vision, heard that voice whispering in the back of his head again—

“₮ⱧɆɎ ĐØ₦’₮ ₥Ɇ₳₦ ł₮. ₮ⱧɆɎ ₣Ɇ₳Ɽ ɎØɄ. ₮ⱧɆɎ ₴ⱧØɄⱠĐ. ₮ⱧɆɎ ₴ⱧØɄⱠĐ.”

Bob flinched even when no one else heard it. That’s how deep it ran.

There were days Bob looked in the mirror and couldn’t tell who was blinking back—himself, or the Void. There were seconds he lost, hours he couldn’t remember, and when he tried to look at them, they laughed—he laughed—because the darkness didn’t just come from him. It was him. A tidal wave he had to pretend he could hold back with duct tape and breathing exercises.

And now she knew. Life herself.

She knew what he was.

And she still hadn’t come.

A part of him wanted to scream at her. What are you waiting for? Kill me, stop me—do something! He wanted her to end it already, erase the Void even if it may cost him his life, before he made another mistake, another killing spree.

But deeper—quieter—something else ached.

She wasn’t coming... But it wasn’t a fixed decision either. Not until he looked the Void in the eye and told it: You don’t own me.

He didn’t know if he could do that. He barely knew who he was when he wasn’t being erased from the inside out by the Void. Because Bob’s insecurity wasn’t about strength. He knew he could move a mountain or end a war. But could he sit in a room and just exist without fearing that someone would die because he lost control? Could he ever believe someone wasn’t flinching inside when they looked at him?

He didn't believe he deserved kindness. Didn’t believe he could be fixed. He was scared to be saved—because what if they saved him, and he broke again? He wanted to be angry. Embarrassed, at least. But instead, all he felt was—

Small.

He doesn’t know who this Queen, you, is. He doesn’t know if he should be afraid or not, or if you were an arrogant asshole but... But it seemed like you didn’t speak of him like a god or a weapon or a mistake...

You spoke like someone who still saw a man.

His fingers tightened around the book. The pages crinkled slightly beneath his palm. He didn’t deserve any of this. Not her conviction. Not Bucky’s loyalty. Certainly not the faith they so freely gave him, again and again, like he hadn’t ripped half the sky open just last month trying to keep himself together.

The silence in the room returned, and still, they hadn’t noticed him.

Part of him wanted to step forward. To say something. To apologize.

Another part wanted to disappear. Back into the dark, into solitude, where no one would see the trembling that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with guilt.

People needed him, but no one wanted to know or help him. Not really.

Except maybe Bucky... And the team. After what they had willingly gone through to pull him away from the clutches of the Void... And now, her—the Queen. Life incarnate. The one who should be most afraid of what he carried inside for the potential of destruction he carried towards all the things she created, she cared about.

But she wasn’t.

She waited.

And that terrified him even more.

Because if she still believed in him…

Then maybe he didn’t have the excuse to give up anymore.

And that was almost worse than the Void.

He squeezed his hands tighter, knuckles bone-white. The noise of the Thunderbolts’ arguing faded into the background static of his mind. He couldn’t help but wince, holding onto his head a bit to silence the hateful words the Void still whispered.

₮ⱧɆɎ’ⱠⱠ ₮ɄⱤ₦ Ø₦ ɎØɄ. ɎØɄ’ⱤɆ ₦Ø₮ ₩ØⱤ₮Ⱨ ₮ⱧɆ ฿ⱤɆ₳₮Ⱨ ł₮ ₮₳₭Ɇ₴ ₮Ø ₱ł₮Ɏ ɎØɄ. ⱠɆ₮ ₮ⱧɆ₥ ₮₳Ⱡ₭. ⱠɆ₮ ₮ⱧɆ₥ ₴₵Ɽ₳₥฿ⱠɆ ₮Ø ₴₳VɆ ɎØɄ. ɎØɄ ₭₦Ø₩ ⱧØ₩ ₮Ⱨł₴ Ɇ₦Đ₴. ɎØɄ ₳Ⱡ₩₳Ɏ₴ Ⱨ₳VɆ-

“You are not a mistake.”

The voice wasn’t loud. It wasn’t a command or a demand. It was warm. Steady. Somehow familiar.

Her.

Not here physically, but it echoed through him all the same—like a thread of sunlight winding through a storm cloud. And suddenly, he could breathe. Just barely. Bob exhaled, trembling. His fists loosened. The vice around his chest didn’t disappear, but it shifted. Lightened, like the weight was now being shared. All he could hear was his heartbeat and her voice, from days ago, echoing through him like a prayer he didn’t deserve:

Life doesn’t conquer the Void. It reaches it. Offers a hand, not a sword.

And he wanted—god, he wanted—to reach back.

But what if his hand wasn’t his anymore?

He winced, flinching as if struck. One hand reached up to grip his temple, fingertips pressing hard into his skin. A sharp pain bloomed behind his eyes—not from the voice, but from his own resistance to it. The Void didn’t scream anymore. It didn’t need to.

Now, it cooed. It whispered in familiar tones, seductive and patient. It came wearing his own voice, softened with mock pity, with poisoned comfort.

₳ⱧⱧ… Ⱡł₣Ɇ, ₴₮łⱠⱠ ₳ ₱Ɇ₴₭Ɏ ₩Ø₥₳₦, ₮Ⱨł₦₭ł₦₲ ₴ⱧɆ ₵₳₦ ₱ⱤØ₮Ɇ₵₮ ɎØɄ ₣ⱤØ₥ ₥Ɇ. ₳ĐØⱤ₳฿ⱠɆ…

Bob shut his eyes, swaying slightly in place. The pressure in his skull thrummed like an earthquake waiting to breach surface. He was so tired of this. Of holding back. Of pretending his breathing didn’t feel like trying to hold the tides with trembling hands.

His heart pounded against his ribs like it wanted to be out.

The whispers didn’t vanish. The Void never did. But for once, he didn’t want to listen to it.

He didn’t want to believe in what it whispered, how it corrupted him from the inside... He only wanted to listen to You.

Your words cut deeper than any blade. Not because they hurt—but because he wanted so desperately to believe them. To deserve them. Her voice wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. It lived in the marrow of him now, threaded through the cracks, gentle as a lullaby and stubborn as a vow.

You... Not here in the room. Not yet. But present in a way the Void could never understand. You lingered in him like warmth in winter, refusing to be extinguished, no matter how cold the world got. Maybe that was what you stood for, what your existence meant for the universe.

Life doesn’t conquer the Void. It reaches it. Offers a hand, not a sword.

He remembered the way she’d said it. Not as a plea. Not as some dramatic declaration. But like a truth older than the stars. One you’d lived.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Bob wasn’t alone inside his own mind.

He blinked. Slowly sat upright from the crouching position he found himself just before reaching the door to the living room. His eyes—sunken, tired—lifted toward the team, still arguing, still fighting over what to do with him.

And for a heartbeat, he let himself wonder: What if I tried to believe her? Anyone?... Myself? Just once?

“…I—um…” It slipped out. Barely louder than the hum of the ceiling vent. Not a declaration. Not even a statement. More like a sound that escaped before he could smother it.

Silence fell like a guillotine. The arguing stopped.

Ava froze mid-gesture. Yelena, leaning back in her chair, tilted her head slightly, eyes worried at the obvious wincing expression of his face was still apparent. Even Bucky stilled, his expression sharpening—not with judgment, but attention.

Bob shrank in on himself slightly, shoulders tensing as if expecting a blow. He didn’t look at anyone. Just stared down at the floor, fingers twitching around the hem of his sleeve.

“…I heard what she said,” he murmured, almost to himself. “About… being ready.”

Silence stretched. It made the air feel thick. “I don’t know what that means. Not really,” he went on, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I—I don’t feel ready. I don’t even feel real half the time. Like I’m just… holding space until the bad part wakes up again.”

His chest hitched with the start of a breath he didn’t want to finish. He dug his nails into his palms. No one moved. The air was heavy, like the room itself was holding its breath.

“I’m scared of what’s in me. Scared of me.” His voice shook now, just a little, like it was something fragile being held too tightly. He couldn’t help but shake a bit, or maybe it was the tower itself, he didn’t know. All he knew was that he was overwhelmed and that there was a small quake on where he stood

“Bob, you don’t have to-” Bucky started, feeling a bit guilty that he didn’t first explain it to him when they were alone. He knew how the team could be so reckless and loud when it came to secrets or a secret plan. Hell, even Val might have heard at this point and he wouldn’t know. However, considering the head space Bob was in most of the days, he cared about his...friend, as reluctant as he was to call him, and his well-being, more than a bitch who uses anything and anyone for her benefit.

“N-No... I need to let it out, I need to speak.” It was a plea, it almost sounded like a plea by how breathless and pained it left Bob. So much so that even John had lowered his guards and listened to him with a complex look on his face. Understanding. Apprehension. Confusion. Care.

After Bucky’s nod of approval, Bob took a deep breath, put his book down on the table awkwardly and looked at his friends, the friends he was going to explain the dark side of him for the first time.

“Every time I think maybe I can try again, I hear it. Him. The Void. It tells me all the ways I’ll fail. All the ways I’ll hurt people again. And part of me… starts to believe it.”

His hands dropped from his sleeves and curled into fists on his knees. White-knuckled.

“But I heard her. Just now. In my head. And it felt… lighter. Not fixed. Just… not so loud.” he gave a small smile to himself, lips curling lopsidedly as he lifted his head and gave a determined no to his friends who were listening to him.

“She said I wasn’t a mistake. And for a second—just a second—it felt like I could breathe.”

His voice faltered for a moment, but he didn’t stop this time. He took a step forward the team, his team, his friends... The ones who willingly went into the Void despite knowing they would see their darkest fears, just to save him.

He owed this much to them.

“I didn’t even know I wanted to breathe,” he chuckled humorlessly, eyes still downcast, lashes heavy with something unspoken as he threw his arms carelessly, as if what he is saying didn’t matter too much. “I’ve been holding everything in for so long—like if I let even a little of it out, it’d swallow me. Swallow all of you.”

Ironıc, isn’t it? For a being who could show the biggest fears a person might have to that same person, he was afraid to reveal his own, to the only people that mattered to him know. Maybe he didn’t want to be seen weak, or bother them when they all had their troubles to deal with, besides the fact that he might have traumatized them quite badly. His breath hitched, and he rubbed the heel of his palm against his eye—not crying, not really, but too close for comfort.  He laughed, but it was broken, breathless. More of a release than a sound of humor. “It’s stupid. I know it’s stupid. One sentence from a goddess and suddenly I think maybe I’m not cursed? Or maybe it wasn’t even her, maybe my fucked up m-mind is making u-up things...” he waved his hand dismissively as if he was speaking nonsense but still risked a glance up. Not at all of them. Just Bucky. The one who had gone to her. The one who hadn’t given up.

Bucky smiled at him brotherly, nodding at him. “It’s not stupid... She does that sometimes.”

“I think…” He faltered again after a smile, swallowing hard. “I think I want to try. If… if someone shows me how.”

He looked up again. Not just at Bucky this time. At all of them.

The room didn’t erupt. No one clapped or consoled him. But no one looked away, either. Ava, whose guarded stance had softened into something like protective stillness.Yelena, who now leaned forward, fingers laced together, eyes watching him like he wasn’t a threat, but a person. Even John—arms slack, frown etched deeper—not cold or dismissive, but present. Listening.

“I’m not asking for you to fix me. I don’t think anyone can.” Bob’s voice dropped lower. “But I think… if I have to carry this… I don’t want to do it alone anymore.”

His shoulders trembled, and his small, self-effacing smile flickered back. The kind someone makes when they’re afraid of what comes next.

“I think that’s what she meant. When she said I had to be ready.”

Then, softer, almost like he was testing the words in his mouth for the first time in years-

“I think I am.”

And for once, Bob didn’t feel like a monster being studied... as his friends smiled at him, all of them carrying their own way of genuine care for him as he found himself doing the same, releasing the breath he was holding. That was their way of silently encouraging him, a silent gesture of  “You are not alone.”...

He felt like a man, asking for help... That was when he heard it.

Beep.

Soft. Sharp. Out of place.

Bucky’s brow furrowed.

Beep-beep.

The sound was coming from his pocket. Mechanical, almost crystalline. Faintly melodic. Everyone turned toward him as he reached in, fingers closing around the cool, unfamiliar weight of the device—the one the Queen had given him when they last spoke. The one she said to use only when the time was right.

When he was ready.

He drew it out slowly.

A small disc, no larger than his palm, etched with ancient runes that shimmered faintly beneath the surface. It had been inert for days—dull, cold, unresponsive. But now it pulsed with light, soft and golden, like the first break of dawn and the little wings sprouting from it now fluttering, creating a glowing halo. Her insignia—a sigil shaped like a blooming star cradled by twin arcs—glowed at its center.

It was responding.

Bob’s breath caught in his throat. The glowing light from the device reflected off the metal around the room, casting soft golden halos that danced across his face and the floor—but his eyes stayed locked on it. Unblinking. Disbelieving. Like it wasn’t real.

“It’s her,” Bucky said, his voice quiet with awe, laced with certainty. “She knows.”

The glow intensified for a moment, then dimmed to a steady rhythm—heartbeat-like. Not urgent. Not demanding.

Just… ready.

The device warmed in Bucky’s hand, and a voice—not a full message, but a feeling—brushed against his thoughts. Gentle. Reassuring. Her voice, even if it didn’t speak words, rang inside his mind.

He is ready. And I am waiting.

The rest of the Thunderbolts didn’t speak, but the shift in the room was palpable. Yelena crossed her arms with a soft exhale—half scoff, half smile. It was the kind of smile that didn't quite reach her eyes—a guarded, skeptical expression she wore whenever things felt too strange for her liking.

“Of course she’s watching. Creepy glowing Queen of the cosmos…” But the words were hollow, and Yelena could feel it. She didn’t want to admit it, but there was something undeniably… comforting about the idea of the Queen watching and the device starting to activate when Bob finally explained his thoughts to them. Something that made her feel less alone in this chaos, even if she couldn’t bring herself to fully accept it...because of the past.

The past of her, Natasha...and the so-called Life that didn’t do anything to save her sister, despite being close friends.

Ava stepped back slightly, eyes narrowing at the device like it might explode. “Are we seriously going to Asgard right now?”

John just rubbed a hand across his jaw, glancing from Bucky to Bob, then back to the still-glowing disc. “Guess the gods are calling.”

“Well,” she said with a small shrug, trying to reclaim some of her usual nonchalance, as he glanced at Bob. “if she’s waiting for you, then I guess it’s your call. But don’t expect me to be all warm and fuzzy about it.” She shot a wry smile at him, as if to soften the edges of her words. “I’m not exactly a fan of gods popping in to solve my problems.”

Bob continued to stare at it, wide-eyed. He didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

Bucky stood and turned toward him, still holding the device as it pulsed between his fingers like a living thing.

“You said you wanted someone to show you how,” he said gently. “She’s the only one who can. And I think she’s been waiting for this moment longer than either of us knew.”

The device glowed once more—brighter now. Not as a warning.

As a doorway.

[nerdydaydreamer]

Chapter 12: Of Dreams and Deliverance

MASTERLIST

Summary: Plucked from her mundane life and thrust into a glass prison alongside the captured King of Dreams, Nora becomes an unlikely confidante and defiant voice in his silent torment. As a century blurs into freedom, she discovers her own impossible existence is inextricably linked to Morpheus himself, compelling them to face future challenges and rebuild his shattered realm, together.

Previous Chapter

~Alex’s Last Apology~

Several more decades passed. The monotonous routine of their lives continued, but the world outside leaped forward. It was now the 21st century. Nora and Morpheus only knew this because of the guards, no longer stoic sentinels but bored young men who loudly bragged about the newest phone that was getting released, a thin slab of glass and light that sounded like a fantasy.

A new century, Nora thought to Morpheus, the idea vast and strange. We’ve been here so long we’ve crossed into a new century.

That quiet moment was broken by the familiar, grating sound of the cellar door opening and the mechanical whir of the lift lowering.

Well, seems like Alex is visiting again, Nora thought, a sense of weary resignation settling over her.

She wasn’t ready, though, for how he looked. The man who was wheeled into the dim light was ancient, withered and bent. Over a hundred years old now, he was a decrepit thing of paper-thin skin and watery eyes, stuck to a wheelchair. A nurse in crisp scrubs pushed him, stopping just outside the rune circle.

“All this time has passed,” Alex said, his voice a reedy, wet rasp, “and you still won’t change your mind.”

Nora’s patience, worn thin over ninety years, finally snapped. She spoke, her voice clear and cold. “Change our minds? You want him to bargain for his freedom with the sniveling, craven worm who stole his life? You have lived a century, Alex, a gift of prolonged life granted by proximity to the very being you torture, and you have spent it cowering in this house. I hope that when your pathetic end finally comes, you are granted a special place in Hell, one where for eternity, you are forced to listen to every single opportunity you ever missed, every moment of joy you were too afraid to grasp, played back to you on a continuous, maddening loop.”

Alex flinched, turning his watery gaze from her to Morpheus, waiting for the silent king to say anything. As always, he did not.

Defeated, Alex lowered his head, shaking it slowly. He seemed to collect himself, raising his head one last time. “I’m sorry it had to come to this,” he rasped. “I never meant for any of this to happen. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

Nora let out a short, sharp scoff, not believing a single word.

“Take me away,” Alex directed the nurse. “I won’t be coming down here again.”

The nurse, utterly unaware of the century of magical protocol, turned the wheelchair to leave. To get a better turning angle, she unknowingly wheeled one of the chair’s wheels directly over the brittle chalk line on the floor. A faint puff of dust, unnoticed by anyone, marked the break in the circle.

Nora didn’t see it, but she felt it instantly—a distinct, sudden shift in the energy radiating from Morpheus. A current, long dormant, was now flowing. She kept her gaze fixed forward, not wanting to draw any attention to him, and waited with baited breath as the lift carried Alex and the nurse away, until the heavy door sealed them once more in the gloom with the two guards.

She finally turned her head to look at Morpheus, to ask what had happened. Before she could form the thought, his voice slammed into her mind, sharp and urgent.

The circle is broken.

She inwardly gasped, completely shocked at the sudden turn of events. What does that mean? What happens now?

A plan was already taking shape behind his ancient eyes. It means I have access to a sliver of my power. Enough. His thoughts were focused, a razor point of will. I will reach the mind of one of the guards. I will make him sleep, and in his sleep, I will give him a dream of freedom. A dream of shattering glass.

The air In the sphere felt electric with possibility.

Just a little longer, he thought to her.

After so many years of unending night, Nora was filled with the blinding, brilliant relief of a possible dawn.

They only had to wait a few more hours. As the guard shift neared its end, a familiar weariness settled over the two men. Their movements became sluggish, their attention wandering. One of them, slumped in his chair, was on the verge of snoozing, the stimulants that kept him alert finally wearing off. That was the moment. Morpheus focused, his consciousness a silver thread weaving its way into the guard’s subconscious.

The dream he gave the man was one of profound, suffocating boredom. The guard dreamt he was in a gray, featureless room with no doors or windows, a representation of his own life spent watching a glass prison. He felt an overwhelming despair, a certainty that this was all there would ever be. Then, a single, beautiful object appeared in his hand: a key made of shining crystal. But there were no locks. An intense, undeniable compulsion washed over him—the key was not for a door. He had to throw it. Before him, a great, imprisoning wall of dark glass appeared, and with a scream of pure, desperate longing for release, the guard in the dream hurled the key. The resulting explosion of shattering glass was the most beautiful, liberating sight he had ever witnessed. Freedom.

Nora, sitting in silence, watched Morpheus stare intently at the drowsy guard. Suddenly, the man leaped from his chair with a shout, his eyes wide and unfocused. He fumbled for his sidearm, raised it, and began firing at the glass sphere.

The noise was deafening. Nora was already positioned slightly behind Morpheus, but at the first shot, he shifted, deliberately placing his body more fully in front of her to shield her from any ricochets or shattering glass. The other guard, now extremely alert, was shouting, trying to wrestle the gun from his partner, but it was too late. With a final, explosive crash, the thick glass of the sphere spider webbed and imploded.

At the explosion, Nora instinctively curled into a ball, putting her head between her knees and covering it with her arms. Shards of glass rained down around them. In a show of impossible elegance, Morpheus reached up, grabbed one of the now-exposed metal beams of the frame, and used it as a guide to leap out with a grace that defied his long imprisonment.

He landed silently on the stone floor. He looked back towards the wreckage at Nora, who was still huddled in a protective ball, and extended his hand out to her, beckoning her to grab it. When she looked up and saw his offered hand, she took it without hesitation. He helped her stand and move quickly out of the ruined sphere.

Standing beside him, free for the first time in ninety-six years, Nora watched as Morpheus turned to the two guards, who were frozen in shock. He raised a hand, and with a soft breath, blew a stream of fine, glittering sand into their faces. They slumped to the ground instantly, lost in a deep, dreamless sleep.

Morpheus then turned to Nora, his voice filling her head, calm and sure. Close your eyes.

She did as he asked. A sudden wind whipped through the stagnant basement air, and she could feel an intense, brilliant light even through her closed eyelids. Morpheus put an arm around her, holding her steady, and guided them both forward into the heart of a glowing, spinning blue portal that had opened in the center of the room.

Morpheus left Nora in a strange, gray, in-between place, a limbo that was neither the waking world nor his own realm. He had one last piece of business to attend to before he could truly go home: Alex Burgess.

He slipped into the sleeping mind of the old man. In his dream, Alex was a boy again, running through the grand, familiar halls of his childhood home. A black cat with eyes like distant stars appeared before him, and the boy felt an overwhelming urge to follow it. The cat led him up winding staircases until they reached a high, forgotten room in the mansion’s turret. The room was dark, with a single high-backed chair in the center. The cat leaped gracefully onto the chair, and as the boy approached, it dissolved into shadow. From the darkness on the chair, two points of light ignited, glowing like captured stars.

Morpheus’s form slowly became visible, seated on the chair, his pale face a stark contrast to the gloom. The dream-boy Alex stammered, his voice suddenly the reedy, wet rasp of the old man he truly was. “You’re free.”

Morpheus’s voice was quiet, but it began to build with a cold, ancient rage. “Free? You cannot cage dreams without consequence for the dreamer. While I was gone, my realm withered, but it is your world that paid the steeper price. An epidemic of sleeping sickness swept your globe—people who could not wake, trapped in endless nightmares, and others who could not find the mercy of sleep at all, driven mad by their exhaustion. Millions suffered because your father was arrogant, and you were weak.”

His eyes burned with starlight, his fury intensifying as his thoughts turned to Nora. “But that is a crime against humanity. Your crime against her is so much more personal. You stood by and watched your father throw a woman into that cage, her only crime being her compassion for a stranger’s suffering. And for nearly a century, you did nothing. You let her languish, trapped with a being you feared, never knowing if she would live or die. You let her hope curdle into resignation, valuing your own pathetic skin over her life. You dare speak to me of freedom after what you did to her?”

He stood, his presence seeming to suck all the air from the dream. “You wished for eternal life, Alex Burgess. But your true desire was not for life. It was for dreams. For escape.”

He reached out a hand, a pinch of sand held between his fingers. “So I shall give you what you have always truly wanted. A blessing. Eternal sleeping.” He blew the sand into the boy’s face. In the waking world, the nurse attending to the centenarian would find that her charge had passed away peacefully in his sleep. His dream had become his eternity.

With that last debt settled, Morpheus dissolved from the dream, finally returning to his kingdom.

Next Chapter

-

Thank you so much for reading! As always, comments and feedback are appreciated! 🩷

[robin-evry]

Heeeyyyyy~ it’s a me again, so just watched the Transformers one movie, and it got me thinking of what would happen if Yuu was a cybertronian/Transformer? Like alien robot that Can transform into a vehicle isekaied to a magic School? Imagine the fun! the chaos! They can pick up the overblot students and put them in air jail like a misbehaving cat! Ortho finally has a bestie!!!!

Sure thing, ask and you shall receive

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐔𝐔 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐂𝐘𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐀𝐍 👾🤖

Cybertronians are a species of autonomous robotic organisms originating from the distant planet called Cybertron that had their essences transferred into robotic bodies known as "Transformers".

Cybertronian!Yuu one of by far most unique students ever, they tower over most of the students. By cybertronian!yuu has received some modification in twst that helps them fit in the world more.

They can partially transform parts of their body into mechanical tools, like shields, scanners, or even small weaponry. This ability has led to some interesting duels in combat class, where they improvises with forms no one expects.

Cybertronian!Yuu sees magic as something like a digital matrix, with each spell having its own “source code.” While they may struggle with traditional spellcasting, Cybertronian Yuu can often rewrite spells or make unique modifications, leading to unexpected effects. This adaptability often puts them at odds with teachers, yet impresses friends like Ace and Deuce.

Cybertronian!Yuu can store and retrieve a ton of information like a living database, sometimes glitching and blurting out random trivia. Ace and Deuce find it hilarious, but it occasionally becomes handy, especially during exams.

Do you know the meme of the song I woke up in a new Bugatti, that's the first year riding on cybertronian!yuu on their transformation form. They have become their friends chauffeur around school pretty much everywhere.

Ortho + Cybertronian!Yuu : robot besties.

NRC tend to call them both a “tech wiz.” They often exchange “upgrades” and tech secrets, and Ortho even helps Cybertronian!Yuu unlock hidden Cybertronian features that they were previously unaware of. They’re like the school’s tech-savvy duo, making Idia’s life easier and sometimes scaring him with their synchronized techno-speak.

Cybertronian! Yuu has an “echo mode” that lets them record and replay sounds, which Rook finds utterly fascinating for tracking creatures or investigating mysteries. Sometimes, they use it to replay people’s voices, teasing Ace or copying Riddle’s strict tone. Grim once caught them imitating the Headmage and nearly exposed them!

Their system has an auto-translate function for languages, magical runes, and even animal sounds, making them NRC’s unofficial interpreter. This skill shines with Sebek, who tries to one-up them in translating ancient text, and with Kalim, who loves hearing animal translations from the Spirit of the Dunes.

Inspired by Pomefiore’s focus on beauty, they develop a “glamour mode” that projects holographic outfits, allowing them to “try on” new looks with a simple transformation. Rook and Vil are fascinated by their ability to shift appearances at will, and Vil even pushes them to “update” their glamour mode regularly to keep up with fashion trends.

Cybertronian!yuu is very curious about the world around them, since originally back in Cybertron there wasn't any organic like plant-life. You can find them being curious and browsing things that find them interesting.

When seriously damaged, cybertronian!Yuu has an auto-repair protocol that initiates a regeneration process. This usually involves a “recharging stasis” where they power down for a few hours to restore internal systems by transforming into a metal box to repair any damages coming to their body and database.

They also have the ability to heck or connect themselves into different technologies, they can see through the technology database as well copying the abilities of the technology.

They discovers they can use holo-projections to mimic voices and create illusions. With Ace and Grim, Yuu pulls harmless pranks like projecting an image of Crowley, scaring students into thinking he’s around.

During battles, cybertronian!yuu possessed a wide range of arsenal weapons. But one of their favorite styles of fighting is basically running over the enemies in their transformation form.

Imagine overblot Azul laughing and yapping about something, and the next thing he got hit by a vehicle as well putting their enemies in time out.

[fiercynn]

palestinian poets: rasha abdulhadi

rasha abdulhadi is a queer palestinian southerner with long covid who cut their teeth organizing on the southsides of chicago and atlanta. rasha's writing has appeared in speculative city, liminality, strange horizons, shade journal, mizna, room, itap| magazine, beltway poetry, and lambda literary. their work is anthologized in essential voices: a COVID-19 anthology, unfettered hexes, halal if you hear me, stoked words, and luminescent threads: connections to octavia butler. rasha is a member of justice for muslims collective, the radius of arab american writers, and alternate ROOTS. their small book of poetry is WHO IS OWED SPRINGTIME (neon hemlock press). you can find rasha on twitter.

RASHA'S CALL TO ACTION

"rasha abdulhadi is calling on you, dear reader, to join them in refusing and resisting the genocide of the palestinian people. wherever you are, whatever sand you can throw on the gears of genocide, do it now. if it's a handful, throw it. if it's a fingernail full, scrape it out and throw. get in the way however you can. the elimination of the palestinian people is not inevitable. we can refuse with our every breath and action. we must."

IF YOU READ JUST ONE POEM BY RASHA ABDULHADI, MAKE IT THIS ONE

"Casting Runes" was originally published by fiyah literary magazine in the palestine special issue, which was curated, edited, illustrated and comprised entirely of palestinian creators, in december 2021. the collection was edited by guests nadia shammas and summer farah, and featured cover art by leila aboutaleb.

if you have the means, you can purchase the e-book of the fiyah lit palestine special issue for USD $5.99, the proceeds of which go to medical aid for palestinians.

OTHER POEMS ONLINE THAT I LOVE BY RASHA ABDULHADI

Rabbits at lambda literary

Picking up Rocks at split this rock (also read aloud)

Dad's Combs at beltway poetry

Table of Contents for a Manual of Pandemic Response Protocols at poetry.onl (also read aloud)

Safe Harbor in Enemy Homes at get lit anthology

Build the Graves at the deadlands

How to Build a Dad Out of Bricks at electric lit

[writinghextech]

FAQ - Solving Equations

what is this tumblr for?

improving the general consensus of whatever J and V get up to in between pining and yearning in s1. The idea isn't to set up a canon that's right or wrong, just improve worldbuilding, or give writers a shortcut to writing hextech in a way that ~seems~ believable and lets the partners look ~Very Smart~.

who is invited to contribute?

anyone. send a post, send an ask. If you're a scientist and know what ~SCIENCE~ might look like day to day, feel free to send it in. If you have experience with safety and testing protocols that J and V probably ignore on the regular, tell us what you think. If you have an opinion about the height of the desks they should be bending each other over, send that in. If you have blacksmithing experience and want the record straight on exactly the kind of injuries Jayce needs Viktor to bandaid? Send. It. In.

what topics are you interested in?

literally anything you have experience with or speculation you have on Hextech. How do runes work? What are the little flappy things on the prototype in 1.03? Where do hexgems come from? What kinds of paperwork are they filling out? What ACTUALLY HAPPENS at a networking event?

you keep mentioning walla walla, what's that?

imagine that you are on stage and want to convincingly A) look like you're saying something and B) create a small amount of noise that gives the aural impression of a murmur. So you, an actor, might mutter something like "walla walla, peas and carrots" to project the vibe of conversation, without otherwise interrupting the meat of the story happening on stage.

In this context, it's about giving the set enough dressing and the characters enough to do to give the impression of ~SCIENCE~, and perhaps offer opportunities for characterization.

Are you making fun of writers who don't have subject matter expertise here?

No. We're all interested in the same thing (jayvik) and that happens in a specific context. Understanding that context offers opportunities for worldbuilding and characterization. Let's speculate and have fun together.

[matcha3mochi]

what would you guys be interested in reading more about? (lads version)

XAVIER x Reader — The Last Crown

You are the last surviving heir to a fallen kingdom, hunted for your bloodline and the ancient magic it carries. Xavier is a war-forged knight under a false king—his body enhanced with elemental runes, his memories stripped and reprogrammed.

CALEB x Reader — System Override

One rainy night, a bleeding man crashes through your apartment window in full armor, with glowing circuitry and no idea where he is. Caleb is a synthetic knight from a dimension where humans created AI to protect them from extinction—but he was betrayed, and cast into a collapsing wormhole. Now stuck in your world, he struggles to adapt: grocery stores, cats, rain. 

SYLUS x Reader — The Black Horizon

You’re a normal university student with a casual fascination for maritime legends, studying for exams and juggling everyday life. One day, while visiting a coastal museum, you accidentally activate a mysterious cursed artifact—and are suddenly pulled through a swirling time rift. You wake up aboard The Black Horizon, a pirate ship sailing the turbulent seas of the 1700s.

note: just wanted to know which one you guys would be more interested in reading!! im still in the process of finishing up Glass between us and Protocol, but i would love know know what you guys think! feel free to comment down below as well!

[mundrakan]

Department

@wolfstarmicrofic - 144 words

In the department of mysteries, there is a gate. Remus has studied every detail of it, every drawing, every book, every ever so vague reference to it. He has dreamt of it a thousand times. Finally, grace of Harry's relations, he can walk up to it, draw the ritual's runes, follow the protocol he researched to the t. Hope is fickle, and he knows, there are no guarantees. He finishes, then waits. One hour, two. Nothing happens. His heart breaks all over again. He is asked to leave, and he does. He has failed.

They wake him, three days after, in the middle of the night. No one can come close to the wild beast, the grim that stepped out of the gate and lets no one near. He is the last hope, before they will turn “drastic”. Remus has never dressed so fast.

[greatkittydream]

Rwby slasher AU

The fall of becon

Everything was on fire, body's Coverd the ground and jaune is runing as fast as he can.

His heart was pounding. He was rushing past corpses, giving them passery glances to see if they're at his teammates or Acquaintances.

"Dame it, why did this happen now! My team and rwby's were about to head out on a joint mission together, four "bonding".

Despite his cheery persona, jaune can not care less about the people he met. Indifference and annoyance was all he felt to others outside of his family.

Even that was a miracle onto itself, for jaune was a slasher. According to myth, when humanity rebelled, the gods cursed humanity with not only the grimm but slashers, immortal supernatural beings with a bloodlust to kill their fellow man. Unfeeling for others.

Wether that was true. He did not know what he did know was that he was one of these fabled slasher's.

The protocol for a slasher being born is to be killed if possible if not given up to atlas, to be put into a high security prison. He heard stories of what happened in there, spikes stabbed into joints to stop movement, mind numbing sensations, and forced sleep. The list just goes on and on.

Spotting a blonde corpse, he quickly ran to it, moving the hair out of the face before saying it wasn't yang. breath. He didn't know he was holding was released.

His breathing was erratic. And his chest hurt with how much it ached, and he didn't know why. He was not Hurt. There is no stable, no gunshot, nothing to harm him. And yet every corpse he found that looked vaguely like team rwby or his Caused him a pulse of pain. Or what he thought was pain. He'd never experienced any pain like this, though.

Pain was not something slashers experienced like regular people. There were all types. Biteng pains, aching pains, shocking pains, quick pains, and long pains. But not once did one linger after it went away. This one, though it hurt more than any of those. It was almost unbearable. He grit his teeth.

The only dame reason he went to this school was to take heat off his family. Wearing contacts to change his eye color from Purple to blue. An expensive illegality. His family burdened themselves with for his expenses. Just because some damed bandits decided to try and rob his home. He ended up butchering them, taking joy in their suffering.

One of the easiest ways to identify slashers, their eyes, a deep purple, almost black. Some of the stronger ones could change their eye color naturally, but most couldn't at a certain point. They stopped caring as well.

An explosion rocked the school. By this point, he was at a full sprint. He remembered that the cafeteria was a meeting place in case of a grimm horde attack, he hoped the other were there.

Memories flash through his mind Bringing a sense of ease to the pain he was feeling. Weiss would probably argue with Ruby about how they should stay in the cafeteria. Whereas Ruby would wanna go out and help the people.

And then he thought of why he was even here. He could just as easily leave. This was a perfect excuse to leave. Traumatized by the fall, heading back to his family would make perfect sense.

But some part of him argued that he didn't want. It would also be unlike his persona, kind and cheery and selfless. He was smashing open the cafeteria doors. He did not see every room full of students but blake Yang and two white Fang mongrols.

She launched forward. Her lilac eyes turned red. Mane of hair caught on fire.

Slice...

Yang fell into the road, besides blake screaming out in a pain as her arm fell to the floor.

"You see this blake, this is what happens when you betray your family. I'm going to give you one chance to make this right, kill her" Adams said as emotioned towards yang on the floor.

Jaune did not know what happened Adam made him annoyed, really annoyed. Jaune doesn't think there's been a time. He's been more annoyed in his entire life. His teeth cracked under his own jaw strength.

Everything in the world became defined to him. The only thing he could hear was a ringing. Shadow stepping behind Adam form the far end of the cafeteria directly behind him.

Blake had been trying to hold the recent wound not only hers but yang as well. Adam was definitely a tall imposing man 6'2. She had begged him to let her friend go. She'd do anything, just not kill her friends.

All it took was a blink, and then suddenly jaune was behind him. She took a sharp deep breath. Jaune is 6'6 Standing directly behind Adam. She didn't even know how he got hit there. But that's not what caught her breath. It was the DEAP purple eyes. he had Shards of glass that could be seen sticking out of his eyelids. He had clenched them so hard that he shattered his contacts, stabbing him into his eyes and eyelids. He didn't seem to care or notice. Maby both.

Jaune Grabed Adam by his hair and threw him into a pillar. The sound it made was deafening. A large crater formed as the boom was heard all around the cafeteria.

The other white fang member Whipped her whip out around jaune's throat, digging needles deep into it, injecting poisons that would paralyze a normal man.

Jaune was not a normal He marched over to Adam, he did not revel In his suffering, he was to "Annoyed" llia Was being dragged Her legs were firmly pointed in place. but she was still being dragged across the floor. Pulling with all her might, eventually the needle sunk into his neck further with a sickening squilch.

This didn't stop him. Blood run down his chest, and she twisted her hips even harder to try and stop him. The neck flesh around The neck gave way as the entire jugular and throat was ripped out. You could visibly see his spine. And yet, just like all slashers had healed. Muscle shot out like a web connecting and weaving itself back together. skin covered it up like some sort of sick tarp.

Adam had gotten back up to his knees and assessed the situation. Leaping to the side quickly to get out of the way of a hand pain for his throat. Only for a second one be caught around his dominant harm.

For all his natural strength, jaune was not skilled at all in fighting. Adam grabbed onto his sword and Sabed join the throat. Barely missing his spine due to luck.

Jaune Clinched his arm firmly wrapped around the elbow crunched. It it made a sickening sound like that of cereal being stomped on. In a blink, adam had cut off jaune's arm connected to his ruined limb. Next, he sliced open his eyes, leaving a four inch deep gash across his face and finally Spun and stabbed into his back directly into the spine, paralyzing jaune for short, while. Jonas slammed into the ground while adam quickly retreated llia hot on his tail.

Wounds, that would be impossible to recover from for a normal man. Were shrugged off mir seconds later all that damage and skill bought him thirty seconds. A normal slasher would have hunted him down. Fortunately for him, jaune had other concerns.

Step..step..step.

Blake Turned around and instinctual, fear have popped up. Purplize set off alarms and her brain after generations of being hunted by them, instinct took over. Shielding yang's body with her own.She was tense, waiting for something that happene.

Jaune crouched down "are you okay" Blake did not know how to respond "no but yang is worse...please help her." Tears build up in her eyes, Weeping them away. She was not going to show weakness in front of a slasher of all things.

She turned to confront her... associate. Jaune face was stone and very stern he had not moved even an eyebrow after his initial "annoyance". You would be forgiven for thinking he was completely emotionless to the suffering in front of him or even taking enjoyment in it. If it weren't for the tears, rolling down his face, blake really couldn't understand what was happening, right nore wanted to yang had long since passed out from blood loss.

Taking a deep breath and taking off his ruined shirt, he tied a tourniquet around what was left of her arm "there is a medkit in the hall I came from use it to stop the bleeding" He said in a low gruff voice Unlike his usual happy one or what she guessed, he faked.

"Were are you going?" "to find my team"

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

Jaune finally made it to the top of the stairs. pyrrha is laing on the floor along with another woman. Jaune was about to run over before a large stinger place. Itself on his shoulder.

A maniac giggling could be hear.

"Hold on just one moment pale"

Turning around, he met deep, purple eyes of a scorpion fanuse. He wanted to put his fist through that face.

"Before we get all punchy, stabby on each other haha I'd like to clarify.I did you a little ah.. Favor your little girlfriend over there is just fine.A little paralyzed but, Ah..., well, you can probably take a guess from what." The man's tail swung in front of his own face.

"What do you want"

"Nothing nothing. Is there something wrong to wanting to help out a Fellow bless one"

"Tell me what you want, Or i'm going to Use your guts as a rope to hang you"

"HA That one's a classic, but you're not wrong. Our goddess, Could always use more And when I laid my eyes on you, I knew exactly what you were, but we Can save your initiation for later for now.I have to take this Very angry witch back to our goddess".

Jaune watched as the man grabbed the black haired woman and jumped off the side of the building. An never more carrying them off to gods knows where. The only thing he could think of is how he got into this situation.

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

Well, there's part one of a potential series, our lovable jaune is basically autistic version of jason voorhees.

Watch as the precious little murder himBo. Discovers emotions such as anger, possibly, even hatred and love.