#“blix... would you be mad if...”

[jsabheadcanons]

P4 and Blix end up having a whole horde of kids, but only two of them are their bio kids. The rest are ones that P4 found while protecting Paradise and he really didn’t want to put them into the adoption system when he knew he was capable of caring for them.

.

[dandylion240]

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Eli jumped startled by the gruff angry voice. His hands dropped to his sides. Before he could react he watched as his guitar was lifted from its case. “Hey! That’s mine!.”

“Not anymore,” the boy held the instrument above his head laughing at Eli’s attempts to retrieve it.

“Give it back,” he jumped up trying to reach his guitar that was just out of reach above his head. “It’s mine,” he cried as his fingers slipped across its smooth surface. 

“Not anymore,” the boy put a hand out knocking Eli flat on his bottom “it’s mine now.”

Landing with a jarring thud, tears blurring his vision Eli watched the older boy start to walk away with one of his most prized possessions. Screaming he jumped to his feet, hurtling himself across the room tackling the boy at the knees. They both went down in a flurry of arms and legs. “Give it back,” he cried, arms flailing as he tried to wrestle his beloved guitar away from the bigger kid.

“Eli Reagan,” a stern voice said above them freezing both boys. “What’s the meaning of this behavior?”

Standing Eli faced his teacher “he took my guitar.”

“Stephan, did you take his guitar,” she asked.

“I just wanted to look at it,” he said contritely, “but he attacked me for no reason.”

“I did not,” Eli shouted his cheeks rising in color and heat. “You never asked, you just took it.”

“Did not,” he looked at the guitar in his hands with disgust. “Why would I want this old thing? It’s worthless. It’s all scratched up.” Tossing the offending instruments at Eli he stumped off joining his friends in the opposite corner of the room.

Eli barely caught his beloved guitar before it clattered to the floor. Staring at it’s once smooth surface he blinked back tears. His fingertips felt every dent and scratch their scuffle had created in it’s once perfect surface.

“Eli I’m going to have to call your parents. Fighting is not tolerated…”

“But I didn’t start it,” he cried his mouth puckering as he fought not to cry in front of the whole class. 

Shaking her head, arms crossed in front of her “I doubt that Stephan meant anything by touching your old guitar. His parents can afford much better. You’re the one who overreacted. Now I want you to apologize….”

Chin jerking upwards “I won’t,” he cried running from the room cradling his guitar in his arms.

Slumping, Eli slid down the wall outside of the classroom. Pulling his guitar into his arms muttering “it’s not fair.” Tears rolled down his cheeks “it wasn’t just me. Stephan shouldn’t have taken my guitar.” His hands felt along the once smooth surface. His delicate touch, feeling every imperfection their scuffle had put into it’s sleek surface.

The door behind him opened and closed admitting two individuals into the hall. “I told you he’d be here,” a girl's voice announced knowingly.

“Ooh big deal,” her companion retorted “where else was he going to be?”

“Well…” she paused “there were several possibilities. He could have gone to the bathroom. The nurses office. The principal’s office. The library or even the playground. Lots of places.”

Rolling his eyes the boy squatted down next to Eli. “She thinks she knows everything.”

Looking up surprised that anyone would come after him. “I didn’t think of any of those places.”

“Of course not,” the boy grinned “you’re new here.”

Wiping his eyes dry on the back of his hands he sniffed “why are you talking to me? Won’t Miss Blix be mad at you for coming out here?”

“She doesn’t scare us,” the boy puffed out his chest.

“She’s going to call my dads because I was fighting,” he lowered his head to his knees. “They’re going to be so disappointed in me.” He could see his dads now. The half scared look in Jonah’s normally gentle brown eyes. The little gasp he’d make as he brought his hand to his face like he was going to be sick. The concerned, protective gleam in Ethan’s eyes as he comforted him before he had what they called an anxiety attack. Then those same green eyes would look at him with disapproval for upsetting daddy. “I’m going to be in so much trouble,” he mumbled more to himself than to his companions. He really hated making daddy upset and this was really going to upset him.

Slipping an arm around his shoulders the girl said “we’ll be your witnesses. We saw what happened, didn’t we Reed?”

The boy gave her a half frightened look that clearly said he didn’t want to get involved.

“Didn’t we?” she prompted kicking his shin.

“Yeah sure,” he rubbed his shin where her foot made contact. “Just so you know if Stephan comes after me I’m telling him it was your idea.”

“Chicken,” she sneered, rolling her eyes “he doesn’t scare me.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Eli sighed “Miss Blix will never believe us.”

“She doesn’t have to,” the girl retorted. “It’s your parents who have to. They will, won’t they?”

Glancing up at her “I guess…but I really disappointed them. My first day here and I’m already in a fight. They were so excited when I got into this school and they don’t like fighting.”

“There’s nothing wrong with defending yourself,” the girl said “your parents should be proud of you for standing up for yourself.”

“Yeah,” her friend agreed “there’s not many who will stand up to Stephan. He bully’s everyone here including his sister.”

“And he gets away with it too” the girl said explaining “his dad makes tons of money and donates tons to the school.”

Pointing to the girl Reed said “Tara and I are what Stephan calls charity cases because our parents can’t afford to pay the tuition.”

“My parents pay,” Eli looked between his companions, “why is he picking on me?”

“Because you have what he wants,” Reed reached across to touch Eli’s guitar.

“Oh,” he grasped his guitar tighter “if he really wanted one I’m sure my dads could get him one.”

“It’s not just that,” Tara touched the hand he had gripping the guitar. “I hope he didn’t hurt it too much.”

“I’m going to take it home and see if my dad will know how to fix it,” he said “my dad knows everything about music.”

“We know,” Reed grinned, “he’s famous. Stephan’s dad isn’t. I think he’s jealous.”

“Yeah so you need to keep clear of him” Tara urged “Stephan likes everyone to know he’s number one around here.”

“I don’t want to be number one” Eli protested “I just want to have friends.”

“We’ll be your friends” Tara said holding out her hand.

“Me too,” Reed enthused, putting his over hers.

“Great,” Eli laughed putting his hands over theirs “we’re like the three musketeers.”

Dragging his feet as he got off the bus Eli dreaded going inside despite the encouraging words his new friends had said. He hated knowing he had disappointed his parents; especially Jonah who hated all forms of fighting. He didn’t want to see that hurt desperate look he sometimes saw in his dad’s gentle brown eyes.

Stalling for time he glanced up towards the front door. The door he’d come in and out of numerous times before. As he bolstered his courage the door opened and Jonah walked outside “Dad,” he choked sounding like a strangled cat. His guitar case felt heavy in his hand, slipping from his fingers as he saw the concern in his dad’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” he cried as Jonah approached him “I know I shouldn’t have but…” 

Jonah enveloped his son in his arms, “let’s go inside and you can tell me all about it.”

“But …” he gazed up at his dad “aren’t you mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad at you?” Jonah asked, turning them both towards the house, his hand on his son’s shoulder, gently guiding him.

“Because I was fighting,” saying the words aloud made him feel awful like he should find the first hole and crawl inside it.

“Was there a good reason?”

“Reason?” he repeated, confused.

“For fighting,” Jonah said. “Your teacher, Miss Blix called…”

“Oh,” he gulped as his stomach dropped a hundred feet below ground. “I’m sorry Daddy. I know you don’t like fighting but I…” Shaking his head as words failed him. Glancing upwards he found his dad giving him a small gentle smile instead of the disappointed look he expected. It was like seeing sunshine after a storm. “I was sure you’d be disappointed in me for fighting.”

Pulling him close “I could never be disappointed in you. We all make mistakes but that’s how we learn.”

Frowning Eli sighed looking down “so it was a mistake to fight?” 

“That depends,” Jonah lifted Eli's chin upwards looking into his son’s eyes “did you have a good reason for fighting? I know what your teacher said but I want to know what you have to say.”

“Okay,” once he started talking it wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be. Leaning into Jonah he said “my guitar is all scratched up now…”

“We can get that fixed,” Jonah assured him. “i know someone who will have it looking brand new in no time.”

Throwing his arms around his dad as they sat on the couch Eli cried “you’re the best.” Sitting back he lost his smile “what if Stephan does it again?”

“If he does, I want you to defend yourself,” Jonah told him “there’s a difference between starting a fight and defending yourself. Sometimes it’s necessary to fight and I think you know the difference between wanting to fight and doing so because you have no other option.”

Nodding, Eli moved to get his homework out “what about my teacher?”

“Your dad and I will talk to her,” Jonah assured him “don’t worry about that.”

Previous/Next

[ambreiiigns]

i'm tired of drawing generic ghouls. we are moving on to designing the specific band ghouls. who's shitting their pants in excitement abt it (me)

[blixvoronin]

dwc day 4: influence

read more about the daily writing challenge for this week here @daily-writing-challenge

summary: i had it all planned out before you met me / was gonna leave early and so swiftly / maybe in a fire or crash off a ravine / people would weep, “how tragic, so early”

word count: 1508

content warnings: suicidal ideation, completed suicide mention

Foreword: If you or someone you know is struggling with suicidal ideation or planning to die by suicide, reach out for help by calling 988 in the United States, or by texting “HOME” to 741-741. Don’t wait. You’re worth it.

–

It wasn’t often that Blix did this, but she had to admit it was becoming more frequent. She sat, in a rare moment, on the roof of the manor and with her eyes trained on the sky – the sun dipped behind the clouds, and the stars were soon to make their presence known.

Some years ago, her life had been so different – an endless cycle of deployment, home, deployment, home, deployment, home, and she could swear she spent more time on the battlefield than in her own lands.

It scared her, the way those memories clung to her. The way the specific feeling of dread and helplessness she’d felt take root when she’d had half of her vision burned away off of the coast of Zuldazar never went away. Not completely.

Her gaze fell to a sheet of parchment clutched in her hands. Her own scrawl ran across the page, and Blix took a moment to reflect on the contents. She knew she’d never deliver this message to the person it was intended for. Some things were better left unsaid.

The rogue took a shaky breath, speaking in the softest voice she could manage, as if she were worried the wrong person would overhear. For all intents and purposes, the wrong people would. It was part of the curse, after all, despite the fact that – as Blix had heard, time and again, dead men tell no tales.

“Indy,” Blix croaked, forcing herself to start. Her therapist had told her that doing this – writing letters and reading them aloud – could help her process some of the trauma she’d gone through. Please, she silently prayed, Light, please, don’t let this open more wounds than it shuts.

“I honestly sat here and wrote this letter… four times? Maybe three? Regardless, it was a lot.” She pursed her lips, tempted to stop – no. This had to be done. She continued to read as a specter settled itself at her side, sitting and gazing out at the rising stars as Blix’s voice filtered through the Duskwood evening.

“There’s no one else I could think of to talk to about this other than you, but there’s been a lot on my mind. My life was really, really dark for a really long time – I mean, long to me, not necessarily long to you. But, I’m starting to realize just how bad it’d gotten. My uncle Jonathan – you know of him, I’ve talked about him enough – was the last person to carry the family curse before me, since he was eldest of my father’s generation. I talk a lot about how he lived – that he struggled with it, that it drove him mad – but I don’t talk a lot about how he died.

“Uncle Jon committed suicide when I was really young. Honestly, I don’t remember a lot from that time? I remember that I was a teenager, so my own manifestation was starting to pop up. I was scared. When he died, it took the wind out from under me, really. I remember feeling like I was alone in the world – now, you know, I was the only one in the family hearing ghosts, and I felt like I was going crazy. Like him. If I’m being honest, those were a few really, really bad years, if only because I suddenly had to learn everything on my own and – and deal with it. The military made it easier, I guess – I’d started to figure shit out, and it made more sense, and now I had this… structure. Telling me where to go, what to eat, what to wear, y’know. Easy stuff. Just show up and do.”

Blix paused, her eyes flitting away for a moment before she sighed heavily and continued. “Then… Kingsland happened, and I lost my vision in my left eye, and suddenly the world was so much worse. That kind of kicked everything off. I remember telling a friend of mine about what I was going through – that I was struggling – and the response was kind of to put me on the backburner on that deployment. Light duty and a watch over me constantly. I never really felt like I got help. From there, more people died, and the whole… all of second battalion was found in that awful camp, and I just – I dunno. I felt like there wasn’t a lot to hope for, anymore. My wife had fucked off to who-knows-where, and jumped off the deep end on necromancy. I felt like everything had just fallen to shit.

“The worst part was that, y’know, after we got back, I looked for help. I did all the things, I did the counseling, I did the emergency shit, and nothing – nothing made it better. More deployments, more damn combat deaths. Ceci died, and the light just completely went the hell out. There wasn’t a damn point, after that. I didn’t feel close to anyone aside from Kenorian, and what was I supposed to tell him, right? The guy’s an Illidari; he’s the epitome of ‘I gave up my entire life as I knew it for the sake of my mission,’ and he survived so much. I felt like I couldn’t talk to him, ‘cause he’d just think less of me.”

Blix reached up, wiping at tears she hadn’t realized had appeared on her face, and huffed a breath before coughing a few times as she refrained from a sob. “I had a plan,” she croaked. “The greenhouse was filled with all sorts of plants that’d kill you if you got near them without – without a respirator. Some of ‘em were quick, some weren’t. I knew which were which, and I was planning to just… accidentally make my way over there. I probably wouldn’t have been found until it was too late, and I thought it was foolproof, and I wouldn’t be leaving anyone behind, really. No one that needed me.”

Gritting her teeth, Blix’s brow furrowed as she recalled the memory. She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment before sniffing and clearing her throat to continue. “I, uh – I was just trying to find the right time, really, when I met you at that party. For a little while after, you know, I was still unsure. We had that first brawl in Darkshire, and that was… it was good to connect with someone. I felt seen, for the first time in fucking years. That talk we had in the inn… y’know, I put it off. I was like, ‘hey, let’s wait. Let’s wait a little bit, I don’t want to spoil the memory for her.’ Then one day – one day became another, and we s… started spending more time together, and all of a sudden, y’know, I realized I was developing feelings for you -”

Blix sniffled again, taking a breath. “I couldn’t follow through anymore. I couldn’t stop thinking about you and what you’d told me about your brother, how much you wanted to find your parents. I couldn’t stop thinking about how I wanted to help with that. I couldn’t help if I were dead, really. So I – I stuck it out. Then… the most amazing shit happened. You saw something in me I hadn’t seen – you thought I was worth it, despite how broken I was and how much of a piece of shit I felt like I was – you made me feel like that just wasn’t true. I know it took me too long to really get into therapy and start unboxing a lot of this, but Indy, you gotta know, you -”

By now, the tears were freely flowing, and Blix folded the letter in her lap as she took a shuddering breath that didn’t stand against the urge to cry that overwhelmed her. “You saved my life,” she croaked, her voice breaking. “You saved my life. You healed me without even knowing it, and you still don’t know how much, and I just – I’m so glad that I have you, and Asha, and that suddenly, shit isn’t so scary anymore.”

Wiping at her face, Blix let out a few sobs, burying her head in her hands. She sniffed, taking a few deep breaths to center herself, and blinked hard a few times before the feeling of a hand on her back startled her so badly she nearly lost her balance on the edge of the roof.

Her head snapped up, and wide, tear-stained eyes met the phantasmal image of Jonathan Voronin, who looked on his niece with a small, sad smile. Blix’s lip quivered, and she leaned towards the ghost as if to wrap her arms around him, the pang in her chest all too familiar when she realized he wasn’t truly physical. His voice rang around her, despite his lips never moving.

“I’m proud of you, Al, and I love you. You did better than me, and that’s all I could hope for. Stay alive. The stars are a lot prettier to you than they are to me.”

And he was right.

[indraste-darktalon]

DWC Day 5: Wrath (Indy)

Word Count: 500 Summary: Indy processes her emotions with her fists, in a flashback, because it’s okay now Warnings: Bar fight?

@daily-writing-challenge @asharinhun (for Arlyn) Also Cay for brief character loaning.

Over the past few months since Blix had gone missing, Indraste had been getting kicked out of more and more bars. For some, it was for starting fights. For others, it was for winning them with little effort. So she was branching out a bit, exploring the bars in Boralus. If she stumbled across her missing brother during one of these encounters, so much the better, but mostly she wanted to punch. She wanted to smell blood. And that wasn’t bad, because she could always heal everyone afterwards, right?

Nothing she did stuck. Nothing she did stuck. Now was the time to embrace that, while she waited in this horrible limbo.

So she found a bar with an underground brawling ring, and even though free-for-alls weren’t her usual source of entertainment, well… It was better than the fight she’d been in with the half-troll who probably hated her. The people there had used weapons. Here, it would just be fists. Or, well… she planned to use knees, so….

Indy was easily at least a head taller than everyone else in the ring, and she waded into it without shame, socking everyone who came close to her. A smaller human, who moved like she was used to these sorts of fights, had darted in, and Indy had grabbed her by both ears and sent her knee careening into the other woman’s eye. She fell away, and Indy focused on the taller members of the madness, lasting until the round was called.

She had a split lip and bruised ribs, but that didn’t stop her from moving to the bar as other contestants filed away. Even though she had her flask, she asked for a drink, because she didn’t want to be kicked out for supplying her own alcohol.

A tiny Kul Tiran hopped onto the chair next to her. Her physique suggested that she could take care of herself, but her black eye countered that other people did, too. Indy had a brief vision of grabbing her head and slamming it into her knee, and had a drink.

“You did good tonight!” said the human at her left. Her eye was swollen completely shut.

Indy stared at her eye. “Yeah? We’ve never met.”

But they had, and she knew. Indy took a few minutes to meet this person that she’d abused in the ring, and then felt like the worst sort of healer for indulging in these sorts of fights.

Eventually, she convinced Arlyn to let Indy heal her. But even as she did, a feeling that came from her core suggested that this wasn’t something healers did.

….But who better to beat the shit out of somebody than the person who could fix it afterwards?

Blix was missing. Indy was coping, poorly. This wasn’t going to stop. She had so much anger to release upon the world.

[iamthefan]

So.. Blixer...

Are u a short temper person

If so...

Are mad at Cyan that much back before

Just curious

(Also new here)

Blixer: Little bit tho, but that was long ago. Also wdym SHORT TEMPER PERSON?!

Cyan: No worries, we're cool now... Blix would you calm down for momment..?

(Hi, welcome bro)

[santigarcia]

Frustration

a Nathan Bateman x f!reader fic~

word count: 1.3k

rating: m - masturbation/voyeurism  

summary: Nathan has a crush on you and he’s grumpy about it. He’s got sexual frustration pent up and he need to do something about it. 

a/n: this smug beardy asshole lives in my mind RENT FREE i had to write about him some more

Frustration 

You get under Nathan’s skin and he hates it. He can’t quite put his finger on what it is about you that makes him crazy – and that’s what makes him crazy. Ever since you moved out here to help after his ‘incident’ he prefers to have real people around, even if they are more complicated than AI. But you, fuck, you make his head spin and he wish he knew why.

Maybe it’s because you’re exactly his type. Maybe you’re the most beautiful woman ever created. He doesn’t know if he believes in God, but he knows whoever made you was an artist. Everything you do makes his chest tighten. And he doesn’t have a damn clue what to do about any of it.

He knows you deserve better than an asshole like him anyways. So, he pushes whatever the hell he’s feeling down. Down deep. He used to drink to quiet his mind, now he drinks to get the thoughts of you out of his head.

But it doesn’t fuckin��� work.

He aches, he aches for you in a way he doesn’t understand.

He tries to break it down for himself in a scientific manner.

Ok. So, you’re a beautiful woman, and it’s chemicals in his body that make him want to be with you right? Just chemicals.

But it’s so loud, it’s so loud in his head. The thing is though you simultaneously quiet his mind with your presence. Your voice, your laugh. He’d burn the whole world down if anyone hurt you. He lives for that look in your eyes when you get flustered.

He has a damn crush on you and he’s mad about it.

He wakes one morning after having a very intimate dream about you, and he must go outside to box. He’s got to get this energy out. It’s a particularly cold morning, the chill washes over his arms. He sloppily wraps his hands, ready to punch away the images of you naked from his mind.

He’s never actually seen you naked, but fuck if he doesn’t want to know. He respects you enough that he turned off the cameras in your room. He might have peeked a few times, but you were always asleep or clothed. He feels slightly guilty about looking, but not even that he doesn’t peek occasionally.

He hits the bag hard. Trying to chase the dream away. He had you groaning and crying from pleasure, and he can’t get rid of how you sounded.

The chill of the air starts to feel good when he starts to sweat. The sweat on his brow not just from his exertion, but from the need building up inside of him. Adrenaline pumps through his veins. He’s hitting the bag hard; his knuckles will be bruised and tender later.

When it starts to rain and the temperature drops, he unwillingly heads inside.

He’s greeted with the sight of you in the kitchen, making some hot tea on this cold morning. You’re wearing an oversized sweatshirt; it hits your mid-thigh. You have long warm socks that go up to your knee. There’s a precious bit of bare skin on your legs that has him swallow harshly. Your hair is adorably messy, and you’re humming. You don’t know he’s there, or maybe you do.

“Hey,” he says, letting you know he’s there. And fuck was that his voice? It sounded like he was in pain.

Maybe because he is. He’s hard in his gym shorts and there’s no way you won’t notice when you turn around.

“Good morning!” your voice is cheery and sleep still clings to it. Fuck him you’re cute. “Are you alright?” you ask when you turn, your brow is furrowed.

“Worked out a little too hard,” he laughs. Wrong choice of words Bateman. He knows you see the look on his face, but you give him a gentle smile anyways. If you saw him hard through his pants he doesn’t know.

You’re accustomed to his quirks, so it’s not unusual when he darts out of the room.

He has a problem that he needs to take care of now. He thinks about a cold shower, but no. He needs the release.

Once he’s in his room he strips himself of his sweaty clothes and flops naked on his bed. His hand grabbing himself with need, and his groan is a little too loud. He thinks about you. Your smile. Your legs. How much he wants to suck on your tits. How badly he wants to smack your ass, have you whimper for him. Fuck he wants to kiss you. To hold you.

His hand speeds up, he’s groaning loudly, and he doesn’t care if you hear. Maybe this would solve his problem. He pushes the thought from his mind that you might not want him. He’s seen the shy smiles.

Those are his favorite, the little shy glances you give him when he’s being snarky. He loves when you sass him back too but shit those little shy grins. To die for.

He’s so close, the thoughts of you have him tipping over the edge and spilling all over his hand and stomach.

His physical need is satisfied, but he still has a need. He showers now and it doesn’t help. He still wants you, but at least his aching sexual need for the moment has quieted down.

He’d been afraid he wouldn’t be able to look at you after this, but he now wants to. Wants to see you. But it’s you now that can’t look at him.

When you’d finished making your tea, you took it back to your room. Maybe it was a glitch, he’s still ironing those out after the incident, but your TV turns on and there’s a video feed of a very naked Nathan jerking himself off. You almost turn it off, but when you hear your name fall from his lips you can’t turn your eyes away.

Nathan is sharp, he knows something is up when you can barely look him for the next couple days. You’re acting shyer than normal.

“So, what’s up?” he sits down in front of you in the living room one night. You were reading, but Nathan pulls the book from your hands, making you look at him. “Why won’t you look at me?”

“I-“ your eyes are big, pupils dilated.

Suddenly it clicks.

You start to stand up. You know he won’t be satisfied until he has his answer. And he knows you know that.

He grabs your wrist. He doesn’t even look at you when he speaks.

“I know you saw.”

His finger on your pulse point tells him all he needs to know.

“You liked it. Didn’t you?”

Your heart is beating faster.

“You heard me say your name.” He let’s go of your wrist, and he stands now in front of you. He watches your face; your eyes are dark with arousal. You’re trembling.

He mentally yells at himself; he doesn’t want to scare you away. His next move is a gentler one, he lightly cups your face in his hands. And he watches you melt into his touch. That’s it. A smile grows that look of arousal still in your eyes.

He doesn’t know who closes the gap between you, but he shudders to kiss you finally. You haven’t stopped trembling in his arms, and he’s endeared by it.

When you break apart for air, he looks at you. His dark brown eyes full of a softness you don’t see much.

“I know I’m an asshole, and you deserve better than me. But would you give me a chance?”

“Yes,” you giggle and lean up to kiss his cheek. Fuck he felt that in his dick. “And next time I’m so desirable that you have to leave to go jerk off will you let me know? I can help with that.”

Fuck.

“Yeah,” he laughs, “Yeah I will kitten. You wanna, help me out now?” He pushes his hips forward into you, his arousal against your thigh is unmistakable.

When you lean into him, he sighs in relief. His dreams of you is about to become a reality.

xx

tagging: @aliciaxglasgow​, @arabellathorne​, @bucky-j-barnes​, @coaaster​, @velvetmel0n​, @darksideofclarke​, @dindisneydjarin​, @djarinsbxbyy​, @eternallyvenus​, @feelmyroarrrr​, @ghosttofcalum​, @himbopoes​, @huliabitch​, @jubileetion​, @knittingqueen13​, @mandoplease​, @marvel-dameron​, @melanietrancy​, @mylifeliterally​, @ntlmundy​, @paintballkid711​, @pascalplease​, @pascalz​, @perropascal​, @phoenixhalliwell​, @punkpascal​, @rewritingstarrs​, @savagethewhale​, @saved-fanfiction​, @shadow-assassin-blix​, @stanningtoomanypeopleatonce​, @thehippiequilter​, @this-cat-is-dea​, @tintinwrites​, @wakalas​, @woakiees​, @writefightandflightclub​, @xremember-me-notx​

[captainbubbles4]

dude this is a great idea. I got some thoughts to add to an adventure like this. So like what if warren aligns himself with ronodin? Ronodin knows stuff about the under realm and under king right. So what if warren steals the translocator and finds his way into zzyzx. Maybe he’d have to bring the sphinx or seth along bc he hasnt been there before. But ronodin obvi cant be trusted so warren has to figure out a way he can make use of ronodin without getting burned by him.

also add in a blix origin story. warren meets nyssa aka the mother of all narcoblixes or something in zzyzx. That could be a cool thing to explore. Blixes. We know abt them but not their origins or history. lets say there was an elite team of blixes wreaking havoc and warren, tanu, and vanessa were put on a team to help stop them. random thoughts here but i am interested in the blix.

you might as well put patton back into the story. So warren has to find the chronometer again and he travels back in time to find some object that was lost but it was still around in the past and gets stuck there bc he wasnt standing in the spot he came to the past in and then they use the past chronometer to get back to the future. lets have some patton and warren

But there should also be like a character development for warren and vanessa and dale and other ppl. But what else could there be to them that doesnt contradict whats already there? If anyone has any ideas id like to hear them.

Maybe we get an emotional breakdown from warren bc we never see his reactions to dougan’s death, much of the stingbulb kendra, idr if we got one about lena, and from gotsp hes mad bc he couldnt save neil whom he had met that week i think. So warren’s a protector but he obvi cant save everyone. What if some ppl die bc of his quest to heal vanessas blindness? Idk guys im just throwing out a bunch of thoughts here.

As for vanessa. What abt her family and history and how being a blix affects her. Is she proud of being a blix or does she secretly hate the sort of dark nature that comes with it? She has found a good way to use her powers now tho so🤷🏻‍♀️

We dont get much on dale other than that hes just a hard working guy. More on his and warren’s history and parents and how they discovered fablehaven pleasee

I think blixes are interesting but also idk if they could pose as much of a threat as demons or dragons. On the other hand theyre more subtle than demons and dragons so maybe they could do quite a bit of damage.

Man i wish brandon would make another series with more on blixes. (Ik everythings in kendra and seths pov but still) it could be warrens quest to heal vanessa. Bringing ronodin back into the mix. I dont know how but while warren was on his quest, he found out about a threat of blixes and so they work on that. And then a patton tie in somehow. Patton’s always been in the present most of the time why not have the gang stuck back in time for a while. That could be great. And idk maybe it ends with another threat dismantled and boom. Im obvi not an author😂 these are just a bunch of thots i got but tell me what you guys think

Alright, I'll be the first to admit I don't love the Warren/Vanessa ship, but I have an idea for fic that I want to see people would be interested in reading.

*Spoiler warning*

So the literal heals anything all powerful Source couldn't heal Vanessa right? And we're casually told that Warren was more upset about it then Vanessa even. What if Warren decides to try the opposite of the Source (aka like the Void) to seek healing for her? Cue Warren getting involved in some dark evil stuff in an attempt to do whatever it takes for the woman he loves? It would be super interesting to explore Warren's intersection of "whatever it takes for the people I love" and "being a white knight". Anyone interested in a story like that?

[dandylion240]

Rolling his eyes the boy squatted down next to Eli. “She thinks she knows everything.”

Looking up surprised that anyone would come after him. “I didn’t think of any of those places.”

“Of course not,” the boy grinned “you’re new here.”

Wiping his eyes dry on the back of his hands he sniffed “why are you talking to me? Won’t Miss Blix be mad at you for coming out here?”

“She doesn’t scare us,” the boy puffed out his chest.

“She’s going to call my dad’s I was fighting,” he lowered his head to his knees. “They’re going to be so disappointed in me.” He could see his dad’s now. The half scared look in Jonah’s normally gentle brown eyes. The little gasp he’d make as he brought his hand to his face like he was going to be sick. The concerned, protective gleam in Ethan’s eyes as he comforted him before he had what they called an anxiety attack. Then those same green eyes would look at him with disapproval for upsetting daddy. “I’m going to be in so much trouble,” he mumbled more to himself than to his companions. He really hated making daddy upset and this was really going to upset him.

[flightlessangelwings]

The Comandante and the Agent

Comandante Veracruz x gn!anget!reader

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: cursing, injury, mild violence, enemies to lovers(?), non descript smut, no y/n, no gender indicators, Veracruz is an asshole, reader is a badass, some pining, only one bed

gif credit: @thewaythisis​

Written for the Pedro 12 days of Christmas Secret Santa fic exchange. Enjoy @shadow-assassin-blix​!

~

You hated Comandante Veracruz. Not only was it your job as a federal agent to catch and detain people like him, but every time you got close, he always managed to taunt you and slip away. After it happened several times, you were sure that even if it wasn’t your job to hate him you would hate him anyway.

The way Veracruz grinned at you tauntingly as he got the upper hand on you and knocked you down on your ass made the rage burn in your veins. You were so close this time; you had him cornered and alone and you thought you could easily take him in hand to hand combat. But, you always forgot that Veracruz played dirty, and the advantage turned in his favor when you got tired.

“I like you at this angle, agent,” he blew you a kiss as he towered over you before he sauntered away, “Until next time,” his voice echoed down the empty space as he left you alone. For some reason, Veracruz always left you alive, but you didn’t let yourself dwell on that.

“Fuck!” you slammed your fist against the ground as you watched the one person you couldn’t seem to catch walk away. Again.

With a heavy sigh, you got to your feet as you slowly made your way back to the rest of your team. You knew you were in for a lecture from your superiors for your failure once again, and you weren’t looking forward to it. They weren’t going to be happy with you, and you knew you were low on chances to bring Veracruz in. But, you didn’t want to be taken off the case, so you just had to come up with another strategy.

The meeting with your superiors went just as badly as you expected, and after a few days of recon in the jungles, you decided to take a few days off. You retired back to your little house that you rented on the edge of the city while you were in Colombia. It wasn’t much, but after several months, it became home to you. It was small, just a one bedroom one bathroom with a little living space, but it was cozy and just what you needed after a hard day.

You made your way to the kitchen for a much needed drink, and you frowned at your mostly empty refrigerator before you grabbed a bottle of tequila and poured yourself a shot.

Just as the glass touched your lips, your phone rang. You rolled your eyes and downed the shot before you answered with your title, “What is it?”

“They got him,” the gruff voice of your superior said simply on the other end.

You let out a gasp as your eyes went wide, “What?” you were breathless as you slumped down on the nearby stool. You only nodded as your superior explained that another team had finally managed to capture the comandante that escaped your grasp for months. 

You should have felt relieved, but you didn’t. You almost felt mad that someone else swopped in at the last minute and stole your glory. It should have been you to bring him in. Veracruz and his team had caused a lot of trouble for many countries with his weapons trade, but the arrogant side of you wanted him in your custody, not anyone else’s.

Once you hung up the phone, you let out a heavy sigh and poured yourself another shot. You looked around the room as the silence felt heavy on your mind. All your hard work felt like it was for nothing, and though you should have been relieved that Veracruz was in someone’s custody, you still felt like a failure. It was your job, your assignment, and you couldn’t get it done.

After one more shot, you decided that a warm, relaxing bath would be more helpful than just drinking your sorrows away. The warm water felt nice on your achy muscles, and you exhaled heavily as you leaned back and closed your eyes.

Between the alcohol and the warmth of the bath, you must have fallen asleep because when you opened your eyes again, the water was freezing cold. You shot up to sit and counted yourself lucky that you didn’t accidentally drown yourself in the tub. That was just what you needed to add to your list of embarrassments. 

It was the middle of the night, and the neighborhood was quiet as you slipped on shorts and a tank top. You had just put the half empty bottle of tequila back when you heard a knock at your door. You froze; you weren’t expecting anyone, and the only people who knew where you lived were members of your team. And they had no reason to show up unannounced at 2am.

With furrowed brows, you quietly made your way to your door and stopped to grab your gun on the way. You peeked around the little side window to try and figure out who it was when you heard a familiar voice call your name.

Again you froze with your gun aimed at the door. What was Veracruz doing here? You just got the call hours ago that he was arrested. This was impossible. And how did he even find you in the first place?

“I know you’re in there, agent,” Veracruz called out again. This time, you noticed how strained his voice sounded. When you looked through the window again, you saw that he leaned against the doorframe and you thought you saw blood drip down his arm.

Now you had a choice to make: you could cuff him and turn him in or you could help him. You swallowed hard as you listened to his labored breaths on the other side of your front door. Either way, you had to open it, so you kept your gun up and swung it open. You expected to be met with his own weapon on the other side, and you were surprised to find that Veracruz was unarmed.

The two of you stared at each other for several moments, and you felt like time moved slower than normal. Veracruz leaned against the pillar of your little porch and clutched his side. Cuts and bruises adored his body, and you were sure it looked even worse under his clothes. He tried to keep his expression in his usual cocky smirk, but you saw that he faltered just slightly.

“You look like shit,” you finally said as you kept your gun pointed at him. Veracruz may have been injured, but you still didn’t trust him.

“And you look sexy as ever,” he gave you a short laugh before he coughed in pain, “I’ve never seen that much leg on you, agent.”

You felt your face heat up, and you faltered for a moment before you regained your composure, “Shut up,” you snapped as you took a step toward him and checked him over for any hidden weapons, “What are you doing here, Veracruz?”

“I was in the neighborhood,” he snarked back sarcastically, “Thought I’d drop by.”

You clenched your jaw as you kept a fierce gaze on him, “How did you find my house?”

He laughed again, and this time he didn’t try to hide the way he flinched in pain, “I’ve known where you live for some time now.”

“Comforting,” you dead-panned. You used your gun to gesture to his slumped over body, “What happened?”

“Are you going to interrogate me?” Veracruz interjected, “Or are you going to help me?”

“Give me one good reason why I should help you.”

The comandante was about to answer when he fell forward and drifted in and out of consciousness. Out of instinct, you wrapped your arms around him and caught him before he hit the ground. Panic rushed through you for a moment and you looked around to make sure no one was around before you dragged Veracruz inside. 

You set him down on the floor before you rushed to lock your door and you let out a heavy exhale as you stared at him. Veracruz laid still, and you saw blood pool underneath him. Everything in you screamed to call someone: your superior, your agency, anyone. And yet, you heard another voice in your head that told you to help him.

No matter how much you hated the man in front of you, there was a part of you that just couldn’t let him die. With a dejected sigh, you ran into your kitchen and grabbed your first aid kit. You weren’t the best with wounds, but you knew enough to close and clean the large gash on Veracruz’s side before you worked on his smaller wounds on the rest of his body.

“What the fuck am I doing?” you whispered to yourself as you watched over the unconscious comandante. Although you couldn’t deny how handsome he looked when he wasn’t scowling or trying to kill you...

The next morning, Veracruz woke up with a grumble. He looked around and he tried to piece together the events of the previous night when he heard a rustle of movement. It hurt to move, but Veracruz managed to pull himself up and he was quickly able to find your gun where you left it on the coffee table and aimed it at you.

You were just a few feet away in your little kitchen when you heard Veracruz wake up, but you weren’t fast enough to get to your gun first. You raised your hands in surrender before you slowly moved one arm to turn off the burner that had breakfast simmering on it. The two of you held eye contact in silence for several moments before you finally broke.

“You’re not going to shoot me,” confidence lined your voice. 

He snarled, “Why is that?”

You took a tentative step and when he didn’t move, you took another one to close the distance, “Because I just saved your life,” you stepped even closer until you were within arm’s length, “And because I can do this,” you smacked Veracruz’s side where he was injured.

Veracruz yelped in pain as he dropped the gun and hunched over. You dove for your gun right away and pointed it at him. He glared up at you before he huffed, “Fine,” he grumbled as he conceded. 

Satisfied, you pointed towards your couch with your gun, “Sit down, the couch is more comfortable than the floor,” you said as you went back to the kitchen.

He glanced down at the floor and noticed that there were still bloodstains where he laid. Veracruz remembered that he came to your door late last night, but everything was a blur after he knocked. He didn’t think you’d actually help him and let him stay the night, and he couldn’t help but watch you move around your kitchen as you finished breakfast.

“You look like shit,” Veracruz finally spoke, which made you turn around.

“Well, someone had to show up at my door injured in the middle of the night,” you snapped back as you brought two plates over and sat down next to him on the couch, “You have a lot of explaining to do, Veracruz.”

He stared at you, dumbfounded. Though the two of you were on opposite sides of a conflict, Veracruz never fully hated you. In fact, he always had it in the back of his mind that he could get you to come around to his side at some point… or at least in his bed. However, he was well aware how much you hated him. Yet, despite that, you patched up his wounds, let him stay at your place and served him breakfast. 

Veracruz also couldn’t help the way his eyes drifted down to your bare legs as your shorts rode up when you sat down. 

“Don’t even think about it,” you warned when you saw his eyes drift down. You weren’t sure if he fully remembered what happened last night, but you didn’t want a repeat of his comment. Nevermind the way your face felt warm when he looked at you that way.

No, you hated Veracruz. You hated him, and the fact that you saved his life last night was a fluke. You told yourself that you only did it so you could be the one to turn him in yourself.

“So,” you changed the subject, “Explanation,” you repeated. 

“I thought you could figure it out on your own, agent,” he snarked back. When you just stared at him, Veracruz let out a heavy sigh and sank back against the couch, “Your agency isn’t what you think it is.”

You gave him a pointed look but stayed silent.

The comandante ignored your glare as he went on, “They did this,” he declared simply.

All the fight left your body as your eyes went wide, “No… We don’t operate dirty like that.”

He let out a short laugh before he inhaled sharply from the pain, “You’re a good person, agent, but not everyone is like you.”

You pressed him to explain more, but Veracruz passed out as he mumbled incoherently. With a sigh, you checked over his wounds while he slept before you sat back and thought about his words. You always thought you did the right thing, and you tried to be a fair and just person. But Veracruz’s words threw you for a loop. 

Soon, you shook your head as you tried to physically chase the thoughts out before you went to clean up your space. It was late into the afternoon and the comandante still didn’t wake, so you decided to shake him to make sure he was still alive. He groaned in his sleep, but did not wake up.

At least he seemed to be ok. You decided to let him sleep for a few hours before you woke him again. 

“What the hell, agent?” Veracruz growled at you as he sat up and grasped his side where you slapped him to wake him up, “Was that really necessary?”

“Yes,” you retorted right away, “You need to shower before your wounds fester and I have to get a new couch.”

The comandante gave you a half smile before he slowly got up and made his way into the bathroom. You paced your living room while you listened to the shower run as you contemplated your next move. 

But you weren’t prepared for when Veracruz emerged from your bathroom in nothing but his boxers. You froze and you knew your mouth hung open, yet you couldn’t help it. 

“Like what you see, cariño?” the smirk on his face mocked you.

You quickly shook your head and regained your composure as you cleared your throat, “You wish,” you paused and when the comandante opened his mouth with another smart comment, you blurted out, “We need to share the bed.”

That stopped him in his tracks.

“You’re still injured and I don’t have a guest room,” you gestured to your bedroom, “I don’t want you dying on me now, comandante,” you addressed him in a mocking tone.

“Whatever you have to tell yourself, agent,” his tone matched yours but he followed your lead into your bedroom and you both settled into your bed.

You placed yourself as far away from him as possible, and you made sure your gun was within reach. “Try anything and I’ll make those injuries look like child’s play.”

Veracruz grunted in response, but you missed the grin on his face. Just that little bit of movement seemed to tire him out though, and the comandante passed out within minutes.

Since when did you actually care about him? You told yourself it was just because you didn’t want him to die, but something tugged at the back of your mind that told you otherwise. In all the times you clashed in the past, there always seemed to be some tension between the two of you, but until now you ignored it. Maybe it was partly because Veracruz had numerous opportunities to kill you, yet he always left you alive. What exactly was it between you and him?

It was the middle of the night when Veracruz woke up again. He blinked a few times to adjust his eyes to the darkness and he looked around, confused as to his surroundings. It was then that he remembered you allowed him to share your bed, and he looked over to find that you were sound asleep next to him. 

Veracruz watched you for several minutes, and you had never looked more peaceful. You had to have been tired to be able to sleep next to him, and he wondered how long you stayed up the previous night when you tended to his wounds. He honestly expected you to call your superior and turn him in, but he had no other options when he escaped custody. 

The comandante grinned as you let out a deep breath in your sleep. He reached out and gently brushed his hand along the side of your face, careful not to wake you, “I knew you had a soft spot for me, agent.” 

Your brows furrowed together, “Keep dreaming, comandante,” your voice cut through the darkness before you opened your eyes. When you did, you were met with Veracruz’s face only inches from yours.

Both of you stared at each other in tense silence for several moments before Veracruz closed the space between you with a chaste kiss. He didn’t lean any of his weight against you to give you the opportunity to push him away. Instead, however, you wrapped a hand around his neck and pulled him closer. You parted your lips for him, and Veracruz eagerly deepened the kiss.

Carefully, the comandante shifted himself so that he was positioned between your legs. He gazed down at you, splayed out on your back in just a tank top and shorts, and you looked even better than he ever imagined, “I like you at this angle, agent,” he teased in a low voice before he leaned in and kissed you again.

Your comeback was muffled by Veracruz’s lips, and the more he kissed you, the less you cared about anything other than his body on yours. The comandante clawed at your clothes, and he had you stripped naked in no time.

And when he fucked you, it was unlike anyone you had ever been with before. Veracruz was rough, yet passionate. Even a large wound on his side didn’t seem to hinder him or slow him down. You arched into his touch and wrapped yourself around him, desperate for as much contact as possible. 

The comandante filled you so well, and fucked you into your matterss so throughly. You tried to keep your moans down at first, but he managed to coax the sounds out of you with his touches and kisses. And Veracruz didn’t stop until you came multiple times.

Exhausted and spent, you and Veracruz both fell asleep quickly after that. True to your stubborn nature, you rolled away from him when you dozed off, determined not to fall into his arms. However, during the night, you turned over in your sleep, and Veracruz took the opportunity to pull you in close to him.

The next morning, the bright sun woke you up. With a grumble, you stirred in your bed and blindly reached out for Veracruz with your eyes still closed. You patted the bed a few times before your eyes shot open and you gasped when you realized you were alone. Quickly, you grabbed the closest piece of clothing and draped it over your body as you rushed out of your bedroom to look for the comandante.

You called his name as you dashed into your living room, but you were only met with silent stillness. 

“Mierda,” you cured to yourself as you ran your hands across your face, “I’m so stupid,” you added in a more hushed voice as your eyes dropped down to your coffee table.

That was when you noticed a note in the middle of the table. You crossed the room and picked it up. With a scowl on your face, your eyes scanned the page:

“I appreciate what you’ve done for me, agent. Your company wasn’t so bad. But now our little game is back on. Until next time, I’ll think of you often.”

You sighed deeply, “Fucking Veracruz.”

~

Notes: Something different for Veracruz lol! But I had fun writing this, and I enjoyed the enemies to possibly lovers angle here. And I kept the smut brief cause this got too long already and I wanted to keep this as a gender neutral reader. I hope you enjoyed this!

[slowly-corrupting]

Cyan stands up, looking pretty mad, he's figured out pretty quickly what Chronos would have done with that picture. Blix stands up as well, tail lashing behind him.

The shorter... Gets an idea.

Cyan: What do you mean shapes would love to see two UNDERAGE teens kissing? What kind of sick perverts do you hang out with.

Blix has caught on to what Cyan is saying.

Blix: S... Should we get a cop and tell them some strange shape was trying to take pictures of us to give to people? I... I don't think... Selling pictures like that... I.. is legal.

Cyan: We should also probably warn a lot of shapes about this Chronos guy's hobby we just discovered then. Let them know to keep their children far away from him or he'll take pictures of said kids for some unknown shapes who might be the type to prey on children.

ask-those-shapes-n-beats‌:

Chronos squints at cyan “Did blue just?” His eyes dart to blue then back to cyan, quietly murmuring “Was there another hero shape born I wasn’t aware of” 

  Blue jots something down and hands cyan the note.

“That’s Chronos, he is a bitch, that square guy is milky way and the tall one is logic.”

Blixer looks ready to fucking go while trici gets up and floats in between the two “Chronos, back off”

“Or what” Milkyway sneers at her “you going to fight?!”

Trici just glares, she won’t fight unless they attack first, which they never attack first.

Cyan: Oh! I get it! You three are such cowards you can’t even throw the first punch! You just wanna get hit and then run off crying about how other shapes are violent when in reality you’re purposing trying to get them to attack you!

Blix: Cy, please stop.

Cyan: No! These guys are just cowards trying to make others look bad because they have no self-worth unless they go after others and drag them down!

Blix looks like he wants to cry.

Blix: Cy, please, I know you have a brain to mouth filter, and some form of self-control. Please use it.

Cyan: Blix, we’ve established that you’re 90% of my self control a long time ago. Now-

And Blix has silenced Cyan with a kiss.

[indraste-darktalon]

oof hit me w 😡/💬 for the ask meme, blix is gonna have a Day w this

I've been told to combine 😡- Venting their anger with 💬 - Talking to themselves. And since this is from Blix, we shall provide.

____

Indraste tried to keep herself together as she landed in the front yard. Her brother? He had been a surprise to see, because she has simply assumed he had cut her out of his life. He hadn't remembered who she was initially, after all, and while they had been trying to work on who they were now? Well. Disappearing after that, one makes assumptions.

Yet another Darktalon had deemed her not good enough.

But that wasn't true, was it? Because he was back, and confiding what happened, and all of it made so much stupid sense that she couldn't be mad at any of them.

And that's why she was trying to channel that Darktalon fury. He had seemed happy to see her, and worried about those who were (concernedly; and this was a whole new problem) missing from his life.

She had never expected anything, and so had taken his intentional departure less personally than she had the sudden disappearance of Blix. Only slightly less, because if he disappeared, she'd assumed he didn't want to be found.

If Blix disappeared? She assumed just the opposite.

They were both back, and she was trying to adjust. On the streets today, Andennaris had seemed to happy to see her. And, again, she had never expected anything, because what was there to expect from a sibling that didn't even remember being family?

But, as always he exceeded expectations. He sought her out again, and asked for her help regarding a very delicate problem. It involved her standing tall and intimidating in a corner while Reth's friends collected her things. It would have been easy, if it hadn't been so sad.

So here Indy was in the yard, squaring off with a tree. She needed to burn some of this off before she went inside. So she took off her scythe and fell into a brawler stance, squaring off with a tree.

"Keep my family away from me? See what happens." She punched the trunk, ignoring the way her knuckles split against the bark. She could smell her own blood, but she maintained control for now.

Hitting usually made her feel better. But this time, all she was left with was bloody hands and a sense of despair. What was she supposed to tell her new brother about their old parents?

Indy faced the tree. "Andira, Indarris Darktalon? Meet your new son, Andennaris. Don't pretend that you know him," she murmured to the tree, and immediately knew it wasn't right. It wasn't her place to say anything about her brother to get parents. So she sent a few more punches the tree's way, grunting each time her knuckles hit bark.

As the hits kept landing, one ear cocked toward what sounded like very familiar company. She tried to compose herself, and failed completely. The area around the tree was ringed by feathers, and she was no better off herself. So there wasn't really anything to compose.

((@blixvoronin ask and ye shall receive.))

[dandylion240]

Jonah enveloped his son in his arms, “let’s go inside and you can tell me all about it.”

“But …” he gazed up at his dad “aren’t you mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad at you?” Jonah asked, turning them both towards the house, his hand on his son’s shoulder, gently guiding him.

“Because I was fighting,” saying the words aloud made him feel awful like he should find the first hole and crawl inside it.

“Was there a good reason?”

“Reason?” he repeated, confused.

“For fighting,” Jonah said. “Your teacher, Miss Blix called…”

[blixvoronin]

Blix Thorne sealed the letter she wrote in a simple envelope before carrying it delicately to Keladry Brightmaul’s bunk. It felt wrong to set it there, knowing it would go unopened. But, it was all she knew to do.

Arathi had become hell on earth. As Blix turned to go to the next promotion ceremony, she paused, retrieving a small vial of ashes from a pocket and setting it aside the letter on the neatly-made sheets, never to be slept in again.

Her heart ached, and the impending ceremony felt worthless. She knew she had to attend, but it seemed foolish to do.

Regardless... some return to normalcy was all she could stand.

transcript below cut

(( @keladryhawklight​ @the-fortyseventh​ ))

Kel -

We all miss you.

It’s weird to think I’m even writing this damn letter. Doesn’t feel right. Like something in the world just messed up, and you were the one that paid the price for it.

The air here is strange, now. Too heavy, like someone took a damn pile of stones and dumped them all over us.

I haven’t even seen Sandor since everything happened at the wall, but from what I hear he isn’t doing well. I wish I were up front with you all instead of being assigned to that damn patrol. I should have been there to help you.

I can’t get over this feeling like we all should have done more - for you. For Boris. We’ve seen people die before, sure, but this feels worse than usual. Too close to home. You shouldn’t have been the one to go.

I don’t think any of us can wrap our heads around it. Chow isn’t the same without you bringing something for the rest of us. I keep replaying the talks we had about the Light in my head – remembering that you said that when we die, no one really leaves. They just join the Light and become part of it.

Times like this, I wish I were able to harness the same kind of magic you did, just so I could reach out and feel like you weren’t completely gone. When it comes down to it, Kel, you were one of my best damn friends in this whole army.

I know you aren’t one for vengeance, but I’m gonna kill every last ghoul I see just so whatever this is knows they fucked up for taking you from us. I hope I see you again one day. Maybe not too soon. I know you’d be mad at me for dying.

-Blix

[qwertythepopstarian08]

JSAB AU Fanfic: Imposter

Description: Taking place in the Wonderful Nightmare AU, Blixer has been captured by a revived Suenami, locked away and forced to do his bidding as a veritable war machine. Just as his hopes are dwindling, an unlikely savior comes to his aid… or perhaps, it’s who he expected after all.

Warnings: Major character death, violence, and paranoia. Angst!

Wow, two fanfics in one day!

The Wonderful Nightmare AU is based off of @small--crcle !!! The WN AU was created by me, but the characters belong to @plaquebeat

The purpose of this fic was to show how dire this AU is. There’s no real happy ending, no matter what route is taken. Also, I really love Kubix’s impersonation powers and can’t wait for them to be canonically used again, so I included those in this story, heheheh.

Also, forewarning for... ahem... certain readers (cough cough Rayne). This fic deviates from how I’d normally portray these characters, as well as how they are portrayed in the canon blog. I love your characters, New!! But angst!!

((Reblogs are appreciated!!))

The door to the cellar creaked open, a faint glow spilling in from the outside world. The musty smell of dust and mildew was filtered out, a fresh, crisp breeze rushing in as someone stepped inside, their boots lightly tapping against the harsh, concrete floors.

Blixer’s horns flicked in the direction of the sound, and he slowly raised his head.

The magical chains binding him to the room clanked and shook as he tried to stand, his eye glimmering in slight curiosity. He hissed softly as the light assaulted his retinas, having not seen any source of light in days.

For a moment, the light filled him with hope; he hadn’t been outside for a long time. The last time he’d seen Kubix… or any of his family, for that matter, seemed so long ago, although the calendar that he’d taken to writing on said otherwise.

Just three short months ago, he’d been kidnapped by his worst enemy. Just about ninety days prior to today, he’d been forced to say goodbye to his friends, torn away from his life in favor of serving Suenami as the manic shape’s living weapon. His powers were valuable. Although he wasn’t infected with the mutagenic pink virus, he was still a strong shape, and arguably, his sentience made him a more effective fighter. He couldn’t count how many shapes he’d been forced to shatter. As much as it hurt to admit, the more he fought, the less he felt….

As he blinked tears away to clear his vision, the small hiss grew into an aggressive snarl, his gaze focusing on the horrid shape before him. Suenami entered the room, looking a bit less… smug than usual. Blixer narrowed his eye, watching carefully as the other pink shape stepped towards him.

The chains around him did little to restrict his movements, as long as he didn’t try to leave the room, but they were quite cumbersome and heavy, making the effort to move more of a bother than anything. They didn’t even bind him directly to the wall; Blixer supposed that they were meant to break his spirit more than anything… until there was nothing left but the urge to fight.

However, each time Suenami entered, Blixer feared the worst, counting down the days until the manic shape grew bored of the novelty of having captured Paradise’s hero… the days until he was finally infected and turned into a complete monster. With each passing day, Blixer’s will to escape waned, and he found less and less energy to fight.

Exhausted, the small shape settled on just arching up a bit, his horns flicking back as his eye flashed threateningly.

Suenami twitched, but he didn’t seem afraid, staring down at Blix with an unreadable gaze. His eye shone dully in the low light, and Blixer caught what he thought to be a frown curving at his captor’s mouth.

Blixer fidgeted, a bit off put. Few things could make Suenami lose his trademark grin. It was almost as eternal as New Game’s, although the sight of it made the former hero’s stomach turn.

Quietly, Suenami addressed him, “Blixer…” He seemed to flinch a bit when the small shape’s growl increased in volume. It was almost as if he was… afraid. When he continued, his voice was tinged with a desperate, faltering tone. “Please… calm down. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Like I’d…” Blixer huffed, managing to stand… or at least crouch; he hadn’t stood in so long… His eye twitched angrily. “Like I believe that…”

This was the very monster who turned his friends and family into abominations… the very same monster that nearly cost him his life and sanity. And now, this demon expected him to believe a single word that he said? Disgraceful.

Before Suenami could respond, Blixer rushed at him, screeching. He narrowly sidestepped, causing the feral shape to hit the wall with a loud crash. Blixer hissed, standing shakily. He only managed to stand for a few moments before his legs gave out, forcing him to kneel.

Not missing a beat, Suenami raised a hand, creating a barrier around Blixer and trapping the young shape in the corner of the room. Blixer screamed, clawing futilely at the glasslike wall. HIs eye flashed threateningly.

He glared up at Suenami, snarling, “Whatever you’ve come to tell me… I don’t want to hear it!” He shook his head, his hands glowing. “I’m not a monster… I’m not going to keep shattering people for you…”

Suenami stepped closer, his eye starting to glow not pink, but a soft shade of… cyan. Blixer froze, a small whimper escaping him as he stared up at his captor…

The other shape kneeled so that he was at eye level with Blixer, exhaling softly. He couldn’t enter the barrier, but he was just close enough so that the small shape felt threatened.

“I’m not asking you to shatter anyone; I need to tell you something.”

Blixer snapped, digging his claws into the barrier. “Like I have time to talk to you of all people!” He bristled, his horns flicking back as he bared his fangs. “The only shape I feel like shattering right now… is… you!”

Suenami narrowed his eye, sighing. With a snap of his fingers, the barrier around Blixer faded from a toxic pink… into a soft, familiar blue. Blix tilted his head, hissing lowly in agitation.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The small shape snarled, “You’re more powerful? You can use cyan corruption? You-” He was cut off by a sudden, curt yell.

“Blixer, just stop!” Suenami’s gaze filled with a distant fear, a small frown stretching across his face in place of the once mad grin. “Blix… It’s me… Kubix.” The cyan glow intensified, surrounding the once pink ‘villain’ like a peaceful, luminous aura. “This is just a disguise… I came to get you out of here.”

Blixer felt his heart stutter, his eye’s glow faltering as his growl cut off abruptly. He squeaked, scrambling backwards as he stared at ‘Suenami’, his gaze fearful and bright.

“No no no no, you’re not him!” Blixer screamed, panicked. “You’re not Kubix! You can’t be, you-”

The so-called villain sighed, standing. For a moment, Blixer feared an attack, but ‘Suenami’ merely stepped back, holding his arms out to his sides, showing that his hands were free.

“I’m unarmed, Blix. I promise.”

Blixer narrowed his eyes, stuttering, “P-prove it!” He shook his head wildly, tearing futilely at the chains. He could hardly stand, the magical locks draining his powers… preventing him from so much as summoning a cannon without getting shocked. “You’re not Kubix! You’re more insane than I thought you were if you thought this would work!”

‘Suenami’ flinched, taking a step back. He was… genuinely shocked by Blixer’s anger… he hadn’t seen the shape react so violently to anything in a long time…

He sighed, shaking his head. “Alright… If you insist…” The cyan glow spread, becoming so bright that Blixer had to shield his eyes. Blixer felt his heart stop as he heard the oddly familiar voice, “I’m sorry if I scared you… it was the only way to sneak in here…”

Blixer hesitantly opened his eye, squinting to see through the lingering glow. As his eye refocused, his breath caught, and he found himself trying to stand, shaking.

“Dad.” Blixer’s voice broke, the growl completely dropping from his tone as he stared at the square before him. “Dad…” His eye watered, and he began tearing at the chains holding him back, wishing he could exit the barrier blocking him from reaching Kubix.

Kubix smiled sadly. “Don’t worry… I’m gonna get you out of here…” He raised a softly glowing hand.

Blixer’s smile grew, and he shuddered, pausing in his attempts to escape.

“H-how… Suenami has the key…?” He tugged at the chains again. “He locked me here… forced me to shatter shapes for him, Kubix…” He hugged himself, shaking. “I don’t want to be a monster anymore… please don’t let me hurt anyone again…”

“I promise, you’ll never hurt anyone again.”

Blixer’s eye lit up, and for a moment, he looked just like the innocent, happy child that Kubix once knew. However, as his smile stretched to unnatural lengths, the square was suddenly reminded of what happened to him… of what Blixer had become.

“I missed you so much, Dad…” The smaller shape chirped, “Can we go out for ice cream? Or… or fly a kite?” He pressed his face against the barrier. “I know it sounds boring, but… I just want… to be a normal kid again… please…”

Kubix’s gaze softened, his cyan glow dimming slightly, save for the energy collecting in his palms. He smiled at Blixer.

The manic shape continued to ramble, “I’ve been waiting and waiting and waiting and waiting for you… for a while, I thought you weren’t coming, but here you are! I missed you, Dad. I was so tired of being a monster…”

“Hey… Blix… don’t worry.” Something changed in the square’s tone, and Blixer squeaked in slight fear, afraid of the sudden spike in Kubix’s power… specifically, his attack power… Kubix lowered his voice to a whisper, trying to sound comforting but only succeeding in scaring Blixer even more. “You don’t have to be a monster anymore, kid…”

Blixer tilted his head, squeaking, “Dad?” His horns flicked back in worry, and in the reflected light, Kubix could almost see a glint of childish naivete shining… or perhaps, a glimmer of insanity, ready to lash out at any given moment. Blixer frowned. “What’s wrong?”

Kubix hissed, “I knew it was too late…” He shook  his head. “I wanted to believe you were still there, but…”

Blixer scrambled back, his eye wide. “Kubix… what are you-”

Kubix cut him off. “You’ve been stuck here for so long… I’m sorry we couldn’t get here sooner, bud… we could have saved you…”

Blixer’s eye twitched, and he seemed to falter, his head starting to ache as he tried once again to stand. “Kubix.” His tone became harsh. “You’re right here… you can save me, just get me out of here!” He lashed out, raising a claw and attempting to summon forth his offensive magic. He winced as the magic chains sparked, blocking most of his natural power. “Get me out of here!”

“I can’t!” Kubix snapped. His eyes flashed with a rage-filled light, and he snarled, “You’re too far gone… but you don’t have to be this way anymore… I promise.”

Blixer shook his head, disheartened. “N-no… you wouldn’t hurt me…” His voice grew frantic, his tone becoming shrill and anxious as his horns flicked back, tears welling up in his eyes. “You came all this way just to hurt me?”

Kubix cringed, turning away. He raised a hand, sighing as a familiar, harmful, corrupted energy swirled in his palm. “I’m sorry…”

Blixer’s eye widened, and he let out a ragged scream as the cyan blast hit him head on. He had no time to dodge it, the corrupted energy searing through his body painfully. It tore cleanly through his chest, leaving a gaping hole that, unlike the time he fought Suenami, wasn’t going to heal. He stared up at Kubix in disbelief, shaking, unable to speak for his throat was filling with blood and bile. He let out a gurgling cough, pink liquid rolling down his face.

Kubix kneeled at the edge of the barrier, staring hollowly through him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. His impersonation powers kicked in, pink energy shimmering around him and changing his form to that of Suenami again. The disguised king forced a wide grin, yet his eye glowed with a sad light.

He didn’t want Blixer to spend his last moments feeling so betrayed, so he changed his face, looking as much like that wretched Suenami as he could handle. Blix didn’t deserve to be shattered by his own father, no matter what he’d done...

Blixer’s confusion instantly melted into rage, and he shrieked, slamming his entire body against the barrier.

Kubix winced. He ground out in his best impression of Suenami, “It’s a shame…. A shame indeed.” A bitter chuckle left him as he stood, backing away from the barrier. “You lost your usefulness so quickly…”

Blixer hissed, arching up and clawing at the barrier. He cleared his throat just enough to screech, “Suenami!” He slammed his head against the wall, his horns digging into the glasslike forcefield. “I’ll shatter you... I’ll shatter you!”

Kubix left the room, squeezing his now singular eye shut. His horns flicked back, and his steps became quick and anxious. He mentally begged Blixer to stop screaming, barely able to focus on his own thoughts as the child… no… monster’s cries rang out.

It was for the best, he assured himself. In those horrid months trapped by Suenami, something about him had changed. Blixer was no longer the heroic, childish shape he’d once been. Kubix had watched him shatter innocents in cold blood, having been mentally broken down by Suenami’s torment. He was a threat, and no matter how much it hurt him, Kubix was the best shape to take him down.

He sighed as the screams finally ceased, trailing off into pitiful whimpers. Blixer’s sobs echoed through the building. Kubix felt his heart clench as his son began crying for not his father, but the very monster he’d just been threatening to kill.

“Suenami… please…don’t let me die here…”

Kubix hesitantly peered inside the room, flinching as he saw Blixer. His breath caught, and he ducked back behind the wall, shaking. His transformation dropped, his appearance flickering back to normal as his distress took him over.

The forced, manic smile that had stretched across his face before faltered, curving into a deep, despaired frown.

He repeated a mental mantra, “That’s not Blixer… that’s not Blixer… that’s not my son anymore…” It was the only thing keeping him from running in there and healing, or at least comforting his son… or what was left of him. He shuddered, sliding down the wall until he sat there, face buried in his hands, shaking and crying.

Blixer’s pathetic croons continued to assault his senses, filling him with a dangerous mix of protective anger and regretful, despondent sadness.

“Please… I’ll shatter them all… I’ll break them to shards… don’t let me… don’t let me die… please… not again…”

Kubix shuddered. “That’s not Blixer… that’s not Blixer… that’s… not… Blixer.”

The square kept repeating his mantra, unable to ignore his former son’s pained cries. He forced himself to stay there, practically planted to the spot, until he heard the sounds cease entirely. Hesitantly, he stood, his movements slow and cautious. His eyes dimmed to a hopeless, dull blue, and he looked around, sighing. He glanced in the room, wincing a bit when he spotted the pile of dimly glowing dust and shards. He backed away, his breath catching.

He did this… he shattered his own child once again…. Although, in this case, he was the hero of the situation. He shook his head, closing his eyes tightly. All traces of Suenami’s maniacal infection were gone… every shape that had been infected was cured. Every creature that allied with him was dead… including Blixer.

Kubix took a step back, collecting himself. He sighed.

“Sorry, Blix…” A bitter smile quirked at his features. “See ya soon…”

[qwertythepopstarian08]

JSAB Fanfic: Duality

Okay, so I promised @small--crcle on anon that I’d write a fanfiction for the Reverse Superhero AU that was briefly mentioned on their blog. The idea’s been nagging at me for awhile now, so I finally sat down and finished it.

The Reverse Superhero AU is VERY loosely inspired by Danny Phantom, Miraculous Ladybug, and any other superhero media in which the main character’s alter egos are the enemies of their parents. Because, y’know, ANGST FUEL.

Sadly, this pushed back production of Feeling Blue and Grey Area a bit, but I worked just as hard on this story, so I hope everyone enjoys.

For anyone who doesn’t know, @small--crcle has a swap AU askblog that’s pretty neat, so... go follow them for the original source. Trust me, I can’t do it justice.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy (and forgive me for inactivity ugh).

Description: An AU in which instead of shapes and beats, there are heroes and villains. However, one villain... isn’t that bad.

At thirteen, Blixer already has more scars than one could count. He’s weak, fragile, most of his peers say. They’d probably be right, had it not been for New Game. New Game simultaneously fixes everything and ruins it as well. New Game is part of him, but it’s still another shape altogether.

Blixer’s horns are cracked and brittle, and several cracks and fractures, chips from being thrown around by monsters, riddle his face and arms; he always keeps the scars from battle. New Game can’t be harmed, so it passes the hurt onto Blixer.

Each villain is more dangerous than the last. Blixer wishes he’d never gotten these powers. Everything is after him, wanting nothing more than to shatter him until there’s nothing left but dust. He thinks he’s about to do just that as he struggles through each day.

He walks down the street, towards his step-dad’s house, his only safe haven. It’s raining, icy water pelting him from above, most likely the precursor to some weather-based monster rearing its beastly head. Whatever it was, New Game would deal with it later, anyway. Nothing came after Blixer. They didn’t have to; he was a mess, already.

He stared down at the puddles, just waiting for them to ice over right before his eyes. Of course, all he sees is New Game, the being who ruined his life, who continued to save his life, who stole his life.

New Game grinned back, as usual. Blixer didn’t think it could stop. Frankly, he didn’t care. There was no point in contemplation; in a few hours, when night fell and that thing took over, it would be his face that was pulled into that cursed rictus grin. It would be his form that would be twisted into one of the very monsters that he fought to protect the city from  with his life.

And once again, he and his alter ego would be one and the same.

Shaking his head to rid himself of the thought, Blixer kept walking, his nublike horns drooping, his eye trained straight forward so as to avoid eye contact with his reflection. No one else can see it, after all, so he doesn’t bother speaking to it.

Nonetheless, the being chimed in, reading his thoughts, “So, Blix, what do you think we’ll have to fight tonight?” It chuckled in that horrible, evil laugh. Blixer is sure that he’s the only thing keeping New Game from going completely mad. New Game continues with a snicker, “Maybe it’ll be Cia… Ooh! Or, that mysterious cyan beast will show up. I’ve wanted to shatter him for ages.”

Blixer refused to look down, although he hissed under his breath, “The cyan one never attacks us. He’s tough, so we should try to keep it that way.” He winced as his most damaged horn suddenly throbbed with pain, reaching up to hold his head. “Unlike you, I don’t have a death wish.”

New Game only giggled, its smile stretching. “I can’t die, silly! Been there, done that, and now I’m glued to your soul.”

Blixer chose to ignore that last comment, quickening his pace. He was just a few blocks away from Kubix’s house, and if he wanted to get any rest, he needed to get home before sundown. The sky was a dismal grey, although Blixer knew from experience not to underestimate how fast the time could slip. Time seemed to drag on in the minutes before sundown, but from the moment he left school, to the moment the sun hit the horizon, it was quicker than he could process.

He zoned out, distracted by his thoughts, moving on autopilot as he approached the great doors to Kubix’s home. The square was rich, that was for sure, but he insisted on living in a smaller neighborhood to be close to Blixer. It was a sweet gesture, although Kubix could be cold at times. It was just another odd factor, a detail that Blixer often overlooked, attributing it to the other nonsense of his life.

He stepped inside, silent, not wanting to disturb Kubix in whatever he was doing. The square almost always seemed to be busy in the afternoon. Busy with what, Blixer never dared ask. If there was anything else he was sure about when it came to his mysterious relative, it was that he was secretive.

There were no mirrors or reflective surfaces inside. It was always dark, the curtains and blinds shut tightly. Blixer couldn’t say that he liked the darkness, although it made it easier to sleep, at least until the inevitable happened.

He was extra tired today. His feet dragged with each step, and his horns drooped, looking more frail than usual. His eye was glassy and unfocused, although its glow grew brighter with each passing moment, as it grew closer to sundown.

Without so much as a word, Blixer retreated to his room, going straight to sleep. He cared little for homework, only thinking of his crucial rest. After all, in just three hours, the monsters would awaken, ready to hunt down the worst monster of them all: him.

The sun retreated, the moon taking its place. The day was over. The evil, once chased away by the light of day, reared its head, and where there was once order, chaotic beasts came out to play.

New Game opened his eyes, his grin already stretching across his face. His entire body glowed with an almost radioactive light, fueled by a restless energy. It was his favorite time of day; hunting down villainous beasts. He was in no way a hero, but he knew full well that he was the city’s best hope for protection against evil.

Standing, he approached the window, throwing the curtains aside. The window itself was already open, already awaiting his arrival, the moon’s pristine light shining in and beckoning him.

New Game grinned, climbing out to sit on the ledge, to admire the stars for a moment before all chaos broke loose.

The moment passed in an instant, the heart rate in his eye starting to beat madly. He scrambled down the roof, catching himself with his claws as he slid down. Of course, he lost his grip. A roof shingle came down with him as he crashed onto the grass, although he felt nothing.

Blixer was his scapegoat for pain. New Game almost felt bad for him, although the sympathy faded as the being laid, splayed out on the grass, bright pink “blood” already pooling beneath him.

It wasn’t really blood; he couldn’t be hurt.

He just stayed there, collecting himself, staring blankly at the moon above, his smile constant. He thought about pain; Blixer was always complaining about it, so it must have been fun. Anything that annoyed Blixer seemed to be fun. So New Game tried to feel pain.

In five minutes, he was bored. New Game stood, his grin twitching, his good eye narrowing as he looked around. It was oddly peaceful tonight. Not even Droplet’s minions had shown their faces.

He was… lonely.

Horns drooping, New Game found himself standing there, listening to the wind, waiting for something to happen. He couldn’t sleep, so there was no escape from this emptiness… Without another word, he teleported to the top of some skyscraper. He didn’t care exactly where; he just wanted a better view of the sky, beyond the clouds.

He watched the stars for the longest time, sure than an eternity had passed. It was peaceful, even with the sound of passing traffic and the clamouring of the city. This… was the only thing that could placate him...

The sound of a twig snapping alerted the antihero to the presence of another shape… he wasn’t alone.

Whirling around, New Game tensed, his heart monitor quickening in pace as he eyed the being before him, expecting a fight. He immediately began formulating a plan of action, although he knew that, if it was a lower-level enemy, he’d just rush in blindly, anyway; it was more fun that way.

His smile nearly dropped, his heartbeat flatlining for a moment as he processed the sight before him. The shape wasn’t cerulean blue or even red, like most of the corrupted villains. He wasn’t some incoherent beast, either. The shape was just a normal square, set apart only by his expensive-looking clothes and the wicked horns that curved from his head.

A single, fearful word escaped New Game, “King?”

No one knew the true name of the infamous cyan beast. All the other criminals of the night lived in fear of the being, afraid to merely utter his title. Usually, if he was causing any trouble at all, he was causing it for the other villains, although he was by no means a good shape, even in New Game’s eyes. He’d seen this monster shatter innocents before his own eyes, a deed that not even the antihero would even think of, let alone attempt.

The King of Chaos let a small grin quirk at his features. He made no move to fight, although New Game still tensed, his near-constant grin threatening to drop.

“Calm yourself,” King huffed. He raised a hand, shaking his head. “I wish not to harm you, only to talk.”

New Game tensed. “And how am I supposed to believe that?” His voice raised its volume, a growl clear in his tone. “You’re a monster, you-”

“Blixer.” King cut him off, his tone cold, yet nonthreatening. “I promise not to hurt you.”

A slight feeling of relief blossomed in New Game’s heart, undoubtedly appealing to his other half’s fearful nature. However, one word in the other shape’s promise made the pink being’s stomach twist with unease.

“How…” The alter ego staggered back, bristling. “How do you know that name?”

No one was supposed to know of his connection to Blixer. Unlike him, Blixer could be harmed, and rather easily, at that. If the most dangerous villain of all discovered him… Blixer was as good as shards.

New Game kept his voice low as he growled, “You’re not supposed to know that.”

The cyan being’s gaze became distant, before he looked away, his voice lowering. “I know much more than that. More than you can imagine.”

New Game suddenly lashed out, discomforted by the other night-dweller’s phrasing. One of his arms reformed into a large claw, which he held at King’s neck, hissing.

“Y-you’re really insane, you know that, buddy? And that’s coming from me!” He stepped closer, his movements shaky. “I knew you were trouble! I’ll shatter you before you can get CLOSE to Blixer!”

King eyed the glowing claw with a bored expression, although something changed in his tone, his nonchalance seeming to falter. New Game felt a bit of satisfaction well up in his core; was that… fear?

Pushing the claw aside with a hand, King hummed in musing. “Bold of you to assume I would ever harm you… either of you.” His cyan eyes softened, if only slightly. “I was merely looking out for you. Just because we are considered enemies doesn’t mean I desire to bring you harm.”

New Game yelled, “That’s exactly what that means!”

Nonetheless, King smirked. “Well, then I suppose we aren’t enemies.” He approached New Game slowly, his hands held up in plain view so as to ensure that he wouldn’t try anything.

The antihero stumbled back, only stopping when he found himself standing on the edge of the building, gravity almost pulling him over. King caught his transformed arm, ignoring the spikes, dragging him closer to the center of the roof.

He stepped back as New Game was returned to stable ground, his smile still present.

New Game refused to look at him, averting his gaze to stare at the bustling streets below. The streets were alight with yellow light, packed with commuters, travelling shapes who would’ve normally cleared out as soon as a monster appeared. New Game hadn’t seen the city this active in months.

He had a feeling that King had something to do with it...

Taking a chance, he mumbled, “You’re not a villain, are you?”

“Oh, of course I am,” King chuckled, grinning with sharp teeth. “The most dangerous of them all.”

The alter ego closed his good eye, his heart rate eye displaying a slow beat.

“Then why?” He turned fully away from King, hoping that he would vanish. “Why do you help me? Is it a joke to you? Are you just... bored?”

At this point, New Game was just listing his own reasons for being a hero. He wasn’t a good person. He wasn’t nice. He tormented Blixer all day just to keep his body running all night until it broke. He only did the right thing because no one else would, and he liked to fight.

He was just another monster, a demon that had just happened to get stuck to a good person, to be influenced by altruism instead of greed and anger. But at his core, he was just a parasite with nothing better to do.

So what made King different?

Much to his shock, the ruler of chaos spoke up, his voice suddenly taking on a softer tone, sounding eerily familiar to someone that Blixer himself held dear.

“I cannot bear to see a child get hurt, Blixer.” King stepped closer. New Game heard him, although he made no move to escape. He felt himself being pulled into a hug, his anxiety skyrocketing as his instincts told him to shatter the other shape on the spot. However, King’s next words made New Game’s mind fill with something other than restless anger, something more than a bored listlessness.

He retorted, “That’s… that can’t...” He trailed off, defeated. There was nothing to say.

King whispered, the strange, otherworldly echo leaving his tone, his formal language dropping in favor for something kinder, something familiar. “Blix, I’ve told you this before…” New Game’s will to fight melted away, and he was filled with a different kind of fear, a denial that made both Blixer and himself want to scream, to make it go away. The worst monster in the word couldn’t be him, not HIM of all shapes.

Tears welled up in his eyes, and he found himself choking on his own breath, unable to process the conclusion his mind was putting together. The shock was greater than anything that New Game had felt, so great that he felt Blixer wake up, although he refused to take control.

Both of them were awake, awake to hear the truth.

King, or rather, Kubix, continued, his voice airy, filled with a parental love instead of that cold, calculating tone from before. Suddenly, he wasn’t a monster, wasn’t the most terrifying thing that dared to appear, who was just biding his time until he inevitably shattered Blixer.

No, it was just Kubix. Emotionally disconnected, awkward, Kubix. Blixer’s only guardian. He wasn’t much of a fighter, but he’d shatter to protect his son.

New Game’s heart nearly stopped at the next words, although he’d heard them countless times before, knew them by heart.

“I can’t let a kid get hurt… especially not my own.”

The King of Chaos was New Game’s only guardian. He wasn’t the best person, but he’d shatter to protect his heir.