#I want to redo the demise thing but I’ll keep the one I have now for something else

[beneaththetangles]

Why Kill Yourself Working When You Can Kill Slimes (and Love People) Instead?

I don’t want to overthink I’ve Been Killing Slimes For 300 Years And Maxed Out My Level, the new anime adaptation of the light novel series about a woman who literally worked herself to death and is then reborn to a slower, more lazy life. As stardf29 mentioned in his first impression of the series, one shouldn’t “expect much in the way of drama or excitement.” And yet, I find something profound and challenging in a theme emphasized in the first two episodes of the series, something that speaks against the lifestyles of so many of those I’ve been surrounded by my whole life, from family to friends to church members, and sometimes myself as well: Working too hard is a bad thing.

The show takes a very simple approach with this idea. Azusa Aizawa labored in her corporate job for endless hours, devoting her life to work, until one day she passed out and died while in the office. Given the chance at rebirth in a different world, she asks to made ageless and rquests the opposite kind of life she lives on earth, one that’s slow and easy. And so Aizawa is reborn as a witch and for the next 300 years, spends her time killing the lowest enemy life form (slimes), walking to the village to speak with people and exchange gems for money, occasionally making medicines, growing crops, and making meals.

This slower pace is exactly what she needs. Her new life serves as a cure for the old.

I feel a deep empathy for Asuza. I may not work as hard as she did, or even to the extent of the typical worker in corporate Japan, famed for its excesses in poor labor treatment, but a similar mentality, at least, is present in my mind: Keep working, keep working, keep working. Maybe it’s the same for you, this even though we all realize that working too much and too hard results in high stress, poor health, and, perhaps and unfortunately, illness that contributes to, if not directly linked to, our eventual demise, like with Aizawa.

And yet, we do it. The pressure of culture and allure of financial gain is too overpowering. So, too, the attraction of seeing oneself in a position of authority, letting work and its results be our passion, and conveying our family beliefs through work ethic. It’s almost as if for many of us, overwork runs in our blood, and it becomes more natural to just do rather than to first stop and think about one’s approach, which is unfortunate since it’s vital to consider this question: Is working this hard this really what I should be doing?

You would think Christians would have a better handle on all this, with our teachings about the purpose of life, but we don’t. “Hard work,” as good as it can be, becomes part and parcel of our religion rather than something to be looked at through a biblical lens. We don’t consider if and why we should be working hard. Labor often contributes to a neglect of what our lives here are all about.

At the end of the day, we need consider if we’ve expended our thought, energy, and heart on Christ as much as we should, and if not, has work contributed to this problem? Has ministry taken a backseat, becoming more of a “when I can” type activity or an ideal scenario as opposed to the reality of work, eat, rest, repeat?

Right now in my own life, I’m in a period of overwork. It won’t last forever—I don’t think—but if it does go on for too long, I’ll need to make a change because I can already see the impact in my life: I’m less kind to people (both those I’m supposed to be ministering to and my own family), my health isn’t as good, and my heart and focus is more on the next thing to do rather than on worship. I know that I’m in danger of making work the focus, rather than the means, of forgetting that it is for ministry and is ministry, and that I should conduct it in a way, also, that leaves me energy to pour into this very blog and its other platforms, as well as into people that God more physically brings into my life.

Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will. – Romans 12:2

If I labor for any other reason than for Christ, I’m buying into the ways of this world. I’m placing my own priorities and wishes ahead of God’s. And while it can result in some good, sometimes much good, that’s not what God desires from me—He wants my heart, and when I’m more intentional and enamored, purposely giving it to him, I’m often  surprised to find myself more effective for his kingdom purposes.

In the anime, Aizawa, who after hundreds of years has mastered the art of working just enough, becomes disagreeable when adventurers, a dragon, and her “children” seek her out and challenge her after discovering that she’s a level 99 adventurer. But despite seeming to be put off by the new challenges in her life, what episodes one and two infer is that although Aizawa will become busier with these changes in her life, it’s not busyness in the same pattern as with her previous life. She’s starting to become occupied with the work of taking care of others, while still ensuring that she gets the rest she needs. After recovering from the evil inflicted on her by a work-to-death culture, Aizawa is ready to labor in a better way, one that has real meaning and which preserves life, expands it, and gives it, rather than taking it away.

Aizawa lost her chance to live that way in her first life. It was over before she knew it. I have a chance now to change before my life is totally wasted away, and without the need for a redo and hundreds of years of rest and healing. Rest can come now and so, too, can the goodness of using my energy and time for something more than simply work. Starting now, I can be more like the new Aizawa—healing, teaching, and loving.

And that sounds to me like the best kind of work there is.

=====

I’ve Been Killing Slimes For 300 Years And Maxed Out My Level can be streamed through Crunchyroll.

[devnny]

A PRELUDE.

JTRM — THE “R” STANDS FOR RECOVERING!

Here’s the backstory to the AU I’ll keep referencing in art on this blog! I have no idea if I’ll write any more of this, but it’s good to have this as source material... Enjoy my suffering.

A paintbrush rolled slowly between Devi’s thumb and index finger as she contemplated where she wanted to pick up on her current project. The layer of paint near the eyes of her subject was still a little tacky, and despite her want to continue blending in the shadows of its face, she thought she might rip off one of her own pigtails if she had to redo the eyes again. So, she decided on detailing the rough shapes behind the figure’s head.

It was a nice little reprieve to have Tenna come over and watch stupid game shows over dinner, but as always, a little voice in her head demanded that she continue her work as soon as possible – and no, not that little voice. Here eyes drifted toward the doorway that lead from her art room to the living room, where she knew her backpack that contained her little parasite’s “eyes” was sitting somewhere.

“Little fucker.” She mumbled, a touch smug, as she continued painting.

A sudden rapid knocking at her door startled the brush out of Devi’s hand, and she cursed at the unruly smudge it left on her canvas. Her teeth grated.

“TENNA, for SHIT’S SAKE.” She yelled as she stormed to the door. “If this is about that dance club—!”

Devi swung open her front door, but instead of her shorter friend’s gleaming, mischievous expression, she was met with a pair of wide, staring eyes, marred with the bruising of countless sleepless nights. In an instant, any oxygen in her lungs vanished, leaving her in a vacuum of her own breathless horror. Her stunned fear only amplified the longer the man standing on her doorstep stayed unnervingly silent, eyes boring into her own with an overwhelming intensity, anxiety, urgency.

Johnny.

She slammed the door hard, pressing her back and palms flat against it with a dismayed grimace. The rapid knocking started right back up, and Devi’s eyes darted around the room for anything that she could use as a weapon, should her visitor manage to find a way inside.

“DEVI.” Johnny’s voice called from beyond the barrier. “DEVI, DEVI, WAIT!”

The clacking of every lock she had bolted to her door was a strict answer, but she thought she should make it clear.

“NNY, YOU SICK FUCK!!” She braced the door, pausing a moment to keep her voice from shaking. “What the hell happened to LEAVING ME ALONE, HUH? Where’d THAT go!?”

His insistent banging on her door made her stomach even more nauseated.

“I KNOW, but it’s different now!! Something very bad is happening to you Devi, you must listen to me!” He shook the handle. “I only came to warn you!”

Devi hesitated, contemplating which string of curse words would correctly express her feelings at the moment, when a brief wave of clarity hit her. She knew well now of what plagued Johnny nearly a year ago when he made an attempt on her life, as her dear Sickness had kindly informed her of his failed battle with the voice in his head. Devi wondered then, if Sickness knew of Johnny’s “demons”, so to speak, did his know about…

“…Warn me about what, Nny?” She kept her footing as she held the door still, and did her best not to think about if he had the physical strength to thrust a weapon through the meager shield between them. The sudden calmness in her voice confused Johnny, and he pondered if she was loading a gun, or something else, that might give her some peace about his presence.

“Uh.” Throughout his frantic rushing to her apartment, he had failed to practice what exactly he would say that might convince her to believe him on a topic so ludicrous. “Uh, well, I…”

A pause.

“Well you see, um, I used to be plagued by two Doughboys, er, not real Doughboys – well, I mean they were sort of real, eventually – BUT, UH, that’s not totally relevant. But they had my voice! And they tricked me into thinking it was me talking to myself, but it was something else… You see, they were a product of an eldritch horror living in my walls, and they had me do a lot of bad stuff…! Not like Nailbunny, though, sometimes I think he’s still with me—”

As he rambled, Devi’s panic melted into mild annoyance. She only had half an idea of what he was babbling about, but her suspicions that it had something to do with their shared “ailment” was confirmed at least.

Johnny cut off his explanation at the sound of multiple door locks clicking and whirling. The door opened enough for Devi’s irritated green eyes to glare at him. After a second of anxiety at seeing her again, Johnny offered a nervous, quick smile.

“You’re here about Sickness.” Devi spoke pointedly. Johnny blinked in reply.

“Oh, uh, well I suppose yes, you could call it a “sickness”, of sorts.”

“No, not a sickness. Sickness.” Her eyes narrowed. “That’s what mine’s named. Didn’t your voice, and or voices, tell you that, or just that I had her?”

Johnny blinked again, befuddled by her casual tone about being haunted by some other-dimensional creature.

“W-well, uh, WAIT.” He stopped himself before he started another tangent. “Wait, why – HOW do you know so much!? I’m supposed to be the one filling you in on all of this! No one told ME any of this crap!”

Devi waited and watched him a moment. There was something different about him. He looked different, mainly his hair, which was short aside from two oddly shaped chunks of it that stuck off his forehead like antennae, but she thought it was more than that. He looked… lively, if one could say that. He used to look more like a corpse, haunted and tired. He looked awake now. She debated if that change was enough to trust that he wouldn’t try to murder her if she opened the door past the width the chain-lock would allow.

“She told me. I guess she wasn’t strong enough yet to know how to shut up.” She watched his body straighten, watched his hands for any sudden movements.

“SHE… TOLD YOU?” His voice raised in upset. “BUT… I don’t understand that! When I first started hearing the different—”

Johnny’s voice cut when the door closed again, and he felt a new wave of insecurity as Devi opened it up fully.

“Get in here before you wake the neighbors. The psychic fat lady blew up last month, but I don’t need any more write-ups.”

--

A SHORT WHILE PREVIOUS:

“Come on, Johnny. That diner looked really good, didn’t it? And it was so cheap, even you could afford a full meal there.”

“SHUT THE HELL UP.” Johnny screamed at the Bub’s Burger statuette that was currently strapped into the seat beside him. His boney fingers gripped onto the steering wheel harder, as if that might help him concentrate. “The last thing I need is food.”

“Untrue! Humans need food to function, it fuels their body and mind.” The ceramic argued.

“And isn’t that sad.” Johnny furrowed his brows. “Eating just leads to evacuating one’s bowels, and since I hate excrement, and I hate doing that, and I definitely don’t like doing that outside of my home, in a filthy, stinky, public bathroom, I won’t be eating.”

It was silent for awhile after that, and Johnny felt smug that he’d won the argument… with himself, but that was beside the point.

He had been traveling for a few months now, and had decided that he would return home soon. Even with the “conversations” with his new companion, Reverend Meat, he felt very self-aware, self-assured. The future was a confusing thing, but it was his now, supposedly. The only people he’d killed since the Doughboys demise were people he really felt deserved it. Well… there were a couple of scummy guys that maybe could have just used a couple of whacks to the head, and then he did take a tire iron to some rude people at gas stations… never mind. It was a work in progress, no harm no foul, right?

“There’s quite a bit of harm there, Johnny boy.” Meat replied.

“SHUT UP.” Was the answer again. “Stay out of my thinky-thoughts, you repugnant little Doughboy-wannabe.”

“Don’t be angry Johnny, I told you I’m only trying to help you.” The whites of Meat’s eyes slowly began to swallow up his pupils. “You need the essentials Johnny, food and sleep, sure, but you need emotional unburdening. This fruitless running from desire is just that, FRUITLESS! Once you return home, you should call that girl again. Maybe stop in for a visit.”

Johnny’s forehead crinkled in frustration, and he twitched at the passing mention of Devi.

“WHY in the Hell would that be a good idea!?” He straightened against his chair. “You heard what she said to me over the phone! That she—AND IT DOESN’T MATTER, ANYWAY! I’ve severed any feelings I have for ANYONE. I’m a husk, dammit, a HUSK!”

The silence that followed this time was dampening, and Johnny suspected Reverend Meat was going to say something that would upset him. If only he could get a handle on his anger, that would be the end of all these emotional outbursts.

“I suppose I don’t care who you go see, but I think you’d want to see her.” He smiled wider. “She’s sick.”

Johnny’s thin eyebrow pricked up at the comment.

“Sick?”

“Yes, she’s very sick. You got her sick.” Meat’s voice lowered a bit. “She’s been staying in a lot, having problems working, you know. Talking to herself.”

The car suddenly came screeching to a halt, stopping in the middle of the deserted backroad with a shake. Johnny didn’t register that he was the one that had stomped on the brakes.

“ARE YOU… SAYING?” He stared out at the darkness beyond his headlights.

“Yes, she’s grown a new voice in her head, if that’s what you’re asking.” Meat chuffed. “Caught it from you.”

Johnny gripped the steering wheel impossibly harder, ringing the ruined material under his palms in one slow motion. Devi, innocent Devi, who he had promised his nothing to, was in imminent danger because of him. His promises to feign ignorance over her very existence, his promises to cut away his feelings for her, it was all in vain – she was ruined the moment she took his company.

His wide eyes bore into the dash of his car as he tried to take the information in.

He remembered his conversations with Devi, about literature and art. He remembered on their date, what she said about her ability to paint – “immunity or death”, she had said. If she couldn’t create, she would cease to exist. Devi was so confident about that, that there was no possibility she would ever lose that part of her. Johnny gritted his teeth – she was going to, and it was his fault. He brought her to his home, exposed her to the shitty air he breathed, and then scared her so bad that she refused to leave her house. It was the perfect mix to stew one of those horrible creatures inside her mind.

“Damn it.” He shook. “FUCK, DAMN IT ALL.”

Reverend Meat’s smile remained.

“Maybe you can still help her, Johnny. But you don’t want to see her, don’t want to interact with her.” A small laugh. “As far as your plans go, it’s better for you if you ignore what I said, and leave her to her own devices, right?”

If Meat said anything further, Johnny didn’t hear it. There was an insistent ringing in his head, almost like the bzzz of a bug zapper, that now drown out all outside noise, leaving him to his frenzied thoughts.

The stupid little statuette was right – he had said that. It was for his own welfare that he closed off his emotional connections – but who gave a fuck about that when Devi was in active danger of wasting away into a murderous, controlled little cretin, the way he was for years. Arguably still was, even.

It couldn’t be helped. At the very least he had to warn her of what was happening to her, then she might at least stand a fighting chance. He would tell her all the things that he wished someone had shared with him at the fuzzy beginning – to fight the voices, to push forward with his creative endeavors, and refuse to relinquish the reigns of his sanity so complacently. The voices are not her conscience, she must know that!

Tire screeched as he peeled away, intent on hurdling toward his final destination much faster than before.

--

CURRENTLY:

After some finger twiddling, Johnny had taken a seat on Devi’s couch to continue their conversation. He half-expected his host to sit on the opposite side of the sofa, but wasn’t surprised when she remained standing. The aluminum bat that she took up like a walking cane was a bit more unexpected, though.

“So.” Devi tapped the bat on the floor a moment before setting her palm flat on it, leaning her weight into it. “You came to “warn” me, huh?”

Her voice had some distaste it, with her suspicion toward her guest openly seeping out. Johnny swallowed, beady pupils darting around the corners of her living room before returning to her figure with a nod.

“Yes.”

A stretch of silence ran between them as Devi squinted at him questionably.

“Why?” She finally asked. Johnny seemed surprised at that.

“What do you mean why? I told you over the phone that I liked you immensely, so, even though I promised I would no longer bother you, I had to break that vow in order to make sure you didn’t end up a raving, murderous lunatic, like, well, me!” He huffed amidst his earnestness. Devi popped an eyebrow up at that.

“So, it was a thing like Sickness that turned you into a mass murderer, huh?” She stepped closer, which in hindsight seemed stupid as those words left her mouth, but there was no way in Hell she’d stumble back and show him any intimidated fear now. Johnny seemed to slink away as she moved toward him, like a magnet being propelled away from another.

“Well, sort of.” He brought his spindly hands up in a shrug. “I had three.”

Devi’s eyes widened at that.

“—but now I’m unsure what the real cause was. Maybe I was just really afflicted, but there were two that were kind of a duo, the Doughboys, and I think they were attached to what was in my house, and then there was Nailbunny… he was always a standup guy. Really tried to help me. The wall-thing controlled the Doughboys, so after I died-or-whatever, they disappeared.”

“D… died?” She asked.

“Oh, well, maybe-died, I don’t know. It could have been a crazy dream. ANYWAY, that’s not the important thing!” He hunched closer despite his previous apprehension of doing so.

“Devi if you start getting the urge to paint a wall with blood, don’t do it! That’s the wall-thing!! It made me commit such horrible atrocities you know, and it even convinced me I liked doing it! But I DIDN’T, I HATE blood! But I thought I liked what I did at the time!!” His chest heaved.

“Those shitty dough-turds convinced me to do all kinds of nasty shit! Disembowelings, mutilations, eviscerations, beheadings – all to get stupid blood for a stupid wall! But it wasn’t always about that, it got so bad that even when things were good they’d MAKE ME ruin it, just to keep me writhing under their thumbs! Mr. Fuck, the ASSHOLE, was the one that told me to, to… er… “immortalize” that night with you… as it were…” Johnny lowered his head into his shoulders as he finished, moving his attention to the floor between his boots. The mentions of his carnage made her ill, but Devi scowled further at the reference of their failed romance.

“So you’re innocent in all this, eh?” He could tell just from her tone that the implication pissed her off.

“NO, no, I’m not saying that… I shouldn’t have let them convince me, is the thing.” He pressed against the back of her couch urgently, still looking around at anything but her. Devi’s brows furrowed as his attempts at showing passivity.

“No, you shouldn’t have.” She bit out before straightening up. “I didn’t let Sickness win.”

Johnny’s attention snapped back to her immediately, and he stared up at her in shocked awe.

“What!?” He stood, suddenly close to her. “You mean to tell me – that – that you’ve already dealt with it all??”

Devi pressed the head of the bat to his chest, eyeing him firmly as she stepped back. She dropped her would-be weapon to her side again when the distance was to her liking.

“Yes. Sort of.” She looked toward her backpack that was sitting offside the coffee table. “What’s left of her is in there.”

Johnny gaped at the bag her eyes led him to. A feeling of nauseating rage flooded over him as he realized he was duped, again.

“BASTARD!” He yelled suddenly, startling Devi, who crossed her bat over her chest should she need to whack him with it.

“MEAT, you lying sack of crap – HE LIED TO ME!” Johnny’s arms swung around in front of him as he stepped in circles toward the front door. “YOU JUST WANTED ME TO COME HERE, TO SEE HER. ALL LIES, DECIETE, DECIETE!! ALL A PLOY TO—!”

As he turned back toward Devi, he was stopped by the sudden cold touch of metal under his chin. Devi pressed the bat closer to him, forcing his head back slightly as he froze in place.

“Nny,” She spoke sharply. “who are you talking to right now?”

Johnny gulped, unaccustomed to being the fearful one in situations.

“Um… Reverend Meat.” He spoke cautiously, hoping to placate her. “He’s my newest… voice.”

“A fourth voice?” She asked aggressively. Johnny sweated in reply.

“Yes???” He hoped honesty was the best policy here. Devi grunted a surprised scoff, retracting her weapon away from him with wide, disgusted eyes.

“Nny, how the fuck did you let it get this bad?” She stared at him while he rubbed his jaw. He cast his eyes downward again.

“I don’t know.” His voice grew quiet. “Ugh, I don’t know – I shouldn’t have come here Devi. I’m sorry.”

Johnny’s head swiveled back and forth uncertainly as he spoke, before he turned and hurried to the door.

“Wait.” Her voice stopped him in his tracks, and he hesitantly turned back to look at her.

“Are you just going to get worse again? Are you going to keep fucking killing people, Nny?” Devi stared at him, and he felt like he was under a microscope.

“I’m trying my best not to. Meat’s annoying, but the only thing he’s tricked me into doing so far is visiting you.” Johnny turned to face her again.

“Why would the parasite want that? He wants you to kill me for real this time?”

Johnny stayed quiet at that, knowing the answer was more disgusting than murder in Devi’s eyes.

“No. Meat doesn’t want me to kill, not yet anyway. He wants me to… live. Consume. Consume to excess. And he knows that as far as my… “feelings” go, the only person I’d want in excess is,” He hesitated. “you.”

Devi’s nostril curled at the implication.

“He wants to use me as your distraction this time, huh? That I’ll be the one to preoccupy your mind while he eats away at what’s left of your creativity?”

“I guess.”

“The fuck he will.” She growled as she walked toward him, and Johnny braced himself a moment, preparing to dart in any direction should she move to bludgeon him. Instead her hand settled on her door, pressing it firmly shut before locking the main deadbolt.

“I’ve mangled one parasite, I have no problem mangling another.” Her eyes met his again, and his knees wobbled at the intensity. “I’m tired of these things fucking with me. Sit your ass down, we’re going to talk more.”

Johnny could only hurriedly do as she said. 

--

NEXT.

[cinnbar-bun]

7 Stars, 7 Scars [Angst]

Pairing: Seofon/Siete x Reader

Requested by an anon for the April Showers Event. 

A/n: Thanks for requesting anon! I hope it breaks your heart!

Warning: Mentions of violence

“You have your own ideals, and I have my own. Our destinies lie at the end of different paths. But with our combined talent, there isn't anything we can't do together. That's why I wanna keep supporting you in any way I can.” 

Strange, how the words he had once uttered on your birthday had come back to challenge him. How far was he willing to go to support you? 

He can recall the day as if it had happened mere minutes before. 

Every day that passes by he grows more unnerved, more scared, you trusted him, and he had failed you. 

Some would say he was reckless and juvenile, especially for one who was supposed to be the leader of the Eternals. He would’ve laughed with the person and joked about how he just likes to do things with his own style. 

Now, all he feels is regret. Because he was reckless, you were kidnapped. Because he was too confident in himself, you would suffer. Because you loved him, you would probably die for his mistakes. 

The power he had withheld and maintained surged through his veins. He sacrificed so much, you sacrificed so much to keep this bloody sky afloat- and how were you repaid? Why, your own demise at the hands of corrupt forces. 

There was no calm. There was no rationale. There is no holding back. He promised you he’d stay by your side, just as you had done for him. He promised he’d protect you and save you when things got too difficult, just as you had done for him as well. 

He wanted to redo everything. Restart everything. Lose his own powers and will to fight if it meant you were safe and alive-even he lose you to anyone else. He’d rather you be there than dead. You didn’t deserve to die, not when you were so amazing, so full of life, and so warm. The sky needed you, he needed you. 

“Seofon, you cannot-” 

“Tweyen, I told you that I’m fine. Stop asking me about it.” He can’t muster a smile, what’s the use if people suffer because of him? 

“Seofon-”

“Let me do this. I need to make it up to them.” He cut the archer off again, his back facing her as he held a hand up. Tweyen hesitated a bit before she sighed. 

“You can’t keep blaming yourself for this! Everyone knows you loved them! We’ll find them, I promise, you just need to-” 

“To what? Be patient? Sit around? Tweyen, they might still be alive! I need to find them! I need to find them before it’s too late!” Seofon raised his voice. Tweyen flinched back at his aggressive demeanor before she shook her head and stared him down. 

“They are strong, Seofon! What are you planning on doing anyways? What- are you just gonna barrage into every corner of the sky and scream for the Captain? You need to calm down!” 

“How can I calm down when they’re suffering because of me? I can’t sleep knowing I couldn’t protect the one I loved!” Seofon broke down, collapsing to his knees and pressing his hands to his face. 

“Seofon...I know it’s hard...but please, you have to understand, you can’t fix this by getting angry.” Tweyen softly reassured him, kneeling down to his level and placing a hand on his shoulder. 

“Tweyen, I was planning on proposing...” Seofon chuckled sadly, rummaging through his pockets before he pulled out a small black box. 

“Oh my god...” She covered her mouth, her eyes widening in surprise as he revealed the diamond ring inside. 

“I bought this for them. I was going to take them out on a starry sky and say a bad pick-up line to distract them before I proposed.” He sighed somberly as the shiny golden band reflected his bitter expression. He shut it tightly and clenched it in his fists, enough so where Tweyen could hear the box cracking under his might. “And because of those damn things-” 

She didn’t have enough time to stop him before he chucked the box into a nearby room on the opposite end of his. She heard the clattering of metal as it echoed in the now silent floor. 

“-I might never be able to do that.” Seofon’s voice barely rose to above a whisper. Tweyen was frozen in her stance, unknowing of how to approach her emotional companion. Should she tell him off for reacting like that? Or should she try and be soft? 

“Seofon, no. I refuse to believe the Captain would go down so easily. You should know as good as anyone. You will get your chance to marry them, and they’ll accept and we’ll throw the biggest banquet the sky’s ever seen. But you can’t do that if you keep reacting violently. I know it’s tough, truly, but you must stay calm. You have to be brave and patient, no matter how hard it is. I know it’s stupid to say, and you probably won’t do it anyways, but try to relax. I need you to be level-headed these next coming days. You’ll find them soon, I promise.” 

“Y-you’re right.” The blonde man ran a hand through his hair. “I... I apologize for losing my cool like that, it’s not really like me.” Tweyen gave a tiny hint of a smile. 

“I know. I know this must be even tougher for you, and you have every right to be angry. Please...trust us and trust (Y/n), they’ll return home soon.” She cooed. 

“I’ll try...” He sighed, and politely asked her to give him some time alone. Tweyen accepted and left, and Seofon looked back at the bed the two of you shared. It felt empty with you not here. But he tried to heed his friend’s advice and got under the covers, hoping he might be able to sleep some of the pain away. 

“Seofon! Seofon!” 

Your screams echoed in his nightmares. He wanted to reach out to you and save you, but he was always too late. You would vanish. You would fall over. You would get stolen. 

Again, and again, and again, he watched your form disappear and he’d wake up in a cold sweat. The crew couldn’t do much but go off on empty clues, hoping one would lead them back to you. 

He was tired. He was tired of being so cold. He was tired of hearing your screams. He was tired of you suffering because of his inability to control his pride. 

No one knew the exact details of that day. None except him. They insisted he wasn’t at fault, but they didn’t know how big of a role he played in your kidnapping. 

He placed his head in his hands. Gods, he wished he could take back that day. 

The last remaining strand of his sanity snapped, and he felt a boiling sensation rise in his chest. He leapt off the bed and quickly put on his armor. 

He made a mistake. This time, he’d fix it, no matter the cost. No longer would anyone get hurt for his mistakes again, he’d save you and you’d be in his arms again. 

The starry sky was something that once connected the two of you. Now, it was a reminder of how you were so far away from him. 

That’s fine, they’ll soon regret ever messing with my loved ones. 

And without looking back, he jumped off the Grandcypher, thankful it was decked at an island with plenty of buildings. His cloak billowed behind him as he bounded between the roofs, the vigor in his steps returning once more. 

“I’m going to make this simple- where are they?” Seofon smiled, but the malice in his words made the man choke on his breath. 

“I-I don’t know who you’re referring to!” The man wailed. Seofon chuckled and patted the man’s shoulder before he clenched them tightly. 

“I said- where are they? It’d really do good if you talked. Maybe I’ll let you walk away with your legs intact.” 

“I don’t know! I promise! Please! Let me go!” The man clasped his hands together in prayer as he begged Seofon to spare him. The Eternal sighed, almost in annoyance, as he readied his seven swords. 

“I really didn’t want to do this. You know that, right? I’m giving you one last chance. Whoever is ordering your silence will not make you suffer as I will.” The soft smile returned on the blonde man’s face, and the man screamed loudly. 

“Please! Mercy! Have mercy on me!” 

“Oh, mercy’s been out for a long time.” Seofon eyed him. 

“Please! I have a wife! Let me go!” 

“A wife? Does she know what you’re really doing when you say you’re going to work? Does she know what you’re doing to those innocent people? All for what exactly-blood money? Scum like you should be rid of, and it’s my duty as an Eternal to do so! Maybe then she’ll feel half the pain you’ve caused me!” Seofon’s face contorted into anger as he swung his sword back before the blade ended the man’s screaming seconds later. 

He looked at the mess that lay before him, but for some reason, he felt nothing. 

He deserved it. He was a horrible human being. He hurt so much people. He hurt (Y/n). 

“Ugh, guess I’m gonna have to look for those other weasels. I hope they’re easier to deal with.” He sighed. 

Tracking down some lowly scum shouldn’t have been this much of a task. But since he went undercover and alone, he couldn’t enlist the help of his fellow Eternals. He cursed under his breath about how Tweyen would’ve easily been able to find the perpetrators. He banished the thought when he remembered how she told him to wait. As if that would help you. As if that could bring you back home to him. 

So many islands he had explored, looking up and down for any clues over where you may have gone. The sun was setting and it was a sign that for another day, you were still not home. 

No matter, he’s an Eternal. He can easily find you and save you. 

The cool air of the night reminded him of his mission, and he hid in an alleyway. A man was angrily whispering at another to hurry before the ‘boss man’ would have them by their necks. Seofon waited a bit more before he stepped out. 

“Gentlemen, what a pleasant evening, right?” Seofon grinned, and the two men drew their weapons. 

“Stand back unless ya wanna face my blade!” 

“Hey now, I didn’t come here to pick a fight. I just have a couple questions.” Seofon showed the men his empty hands but they growled back. 

“Like hell we’ll answer them! Now scram, kid!” 

“Oh, so I guess you goons really are a tough bunch.” Seofon shrugged before he summoned his swords. “What will this make it? Hm... I think I would’ve killed about... five of you now? Oh well, what’s two more gonna change? Heh, and guess what, seven is my lucky number.” 

“W-what? Who the hell are you?” The men screamed, slowly backing away. 

“I’m Seofon, leader of the Eternals. And you have something that belongs to me.” He scowled. “You have five seconds before you join your buddies in hell. Now talk.” 

“I-I don’t know what you’re-” 

“Five...” 

“I swear! I swear I have no clue!” 

“Four...” 

“Please! Believe us!” 

“Three...” 

“No! No!”

“Two...”

“Stop! Please! Stop!” 

“One.” 

Seofon raised his sword before one of the men screamed.

“I know where they are!” He whimpered, cowering before the Eternal. 

“See, now we’re talking. I’m glad you had the senses to confess. So tell me, where the hell did you take them?” 

“I-I don’t know exactly where, but I overheard some of our members talk about some singularity. The boss said he was taking them to a place in the mountains. I...I can’t give any more than that. Please, spare me!” The man begged. 

“I see...thank you for telling me.” Seofon lowered his sword and solemnly gazed at the men. “But you know I cannot allow you two to simply walk away unpunished, right?” 

“W-what? No! Wait! Please! Don-” 

“(Y/n)...I’ve found where they hid you. Don’t worry, we’ll be reunited soon. I promise.” Seofon murmured and quickly kicked down the door to the mountain, gaining the attention of multiple thugs and other gang members. 

“Oi! The hell you think you doin’?” One of the thugs yelled before he made a hand gesture to the other guys, who quickly got in formation to attack Seofon. 

“You’ll have to try harder than that!” Seofon smirked, summoning his swords and sending them hurling at the gang. 

It was all like a haze to the blonde man. The screams of agony and the curses they swore fell upon deaf ears. The blood dripping on the ground and the sound of metal on metal, and metal to bone did not faze him. 

Like a man possessed, he obliterated the hideout and all the men in it, sparing no one and leaving behind a bloodbath for all to see. That will teach them to miss with him and his loved ones again. 

The floors of the hideout crumpled under the might of Seofon’s power, and he traversed each one to find where you were hidden. 

“(Y/n)! (Y/n)!” He screamed your name repeatedly. Now he was desperate. You were so close, so damn close. He could feel you, he could finally be with you again. 

At the deepest level, he had found a cell at the end of the hall, the last place he didn’t check. 

“(Y/n)! (Y/n)! I’m here!” Seofon took his sword one last time and swung at the iron bars holding you back. 

You gasped and turned around to see Seofon. 

His face was bright and happy, and you jumped up to embrace him before your eyes traveled lower. His armor was stained in red, as was his sword. 

“S...Seofon...y-you...you were...did you?” You couldn’t hold back your fear, and stepped back from him, covering your mouth in shock. 

“(Y/n), what’s wrong? I’m here now, so you don’t have to worry anymore about them.” 

“They said there was a monster killing them off. Seofon...don’t tell me... w-were you the monster they talked about?” You whispered, backing up until you were against the wall. 

“I’m no monster. I was just enforcing justice. They wanted to hurt you, and now they’ll never even think to look at you again.” He cooed softly, stepping forward and placing his bloodied hand on your cheek. 

You began shaking, and your knees felt weak. This was not the Seofon you knew. This was not the man you loved. No...this wasn’t even a man. 

“The Seofon I knew would never hurt others like that! Y-you! Who are you? You just killed so much people!” You screamed in terror. 

“(Y/n), don’t tell me, did they brainwash you? Did they try to convince you that they were right in all this?” He stroked your hair softly, and his eyes glazed over in an emotion you couldn’t accurately place. 

“D-don’t touch me! Stay back!” You shoved him off of you and moved away from him. 

“(Y/n)...why are you hiding from me? I did this for you-I did this to save you. They were going to hurt you and-” 

“But you killed them so mercilessly! I may have been trapped but word travels fast! You...you’re a monster! You’re not the man I loved!” You yelled back. 

Seofon’s smile faded as he straightened up and blinked at you. 

“I-I’m...a monster? Y-you must be mistaken.” Seofon shook his head. 

“You would never...those swords...you said they were to bring justice... but those men...look at them. Do you call that justice?” You pointed at one of the mangled corpses he just killed and he stared at it. 

“No...I didn’t-this wasn’t supposed to-” 

“Do the others know what you’ve done?” You cried. 

Seofon could not respond. 

“I...I can’t believe this is who you’ve become, Seofon.” You whimpered. 

[thejokersenigma]

Joker x Reader - Oneshot Request - The Rat and the Cat

Ok, so this was a request I got quite a while a go, I’m sorry it took me so long to get to! :S

I love your Joker stories so much, thank you for writing them :) if you're not too busy then I'll just leave a one shot idea: Joker finds out the reader brought home a cat and he gets mad, saying he's not a cat person but he can't get rid of it cuz of the reader. He acts like he hates the cat but he secretly pets and cuddles it when he's trying to relax a little.

So, maybe not 100% what you wanted, but I just kind of have a quick bit of fun with this one - it’s not great, but maybe it’s alright enough? If not, let me know and I’ll redo it!

Let me know if you want to be tagged in anything!

REQUESTS ARE ALWAYS OPEN!

MAIN MASTERLIST

The Joker’s familiar snarl curled his lips as he reached for the pistol where it sat in the holster at his side, his eyes ever leaving the fiend in front of him. The insult, the gall of this enemy was beyond anything he’d ever dealt with before. [Y/N] might like them, might try to convince him to give them a second chance, but that was a laughable hope of hers. They’d gone too far this time. He’d call it disrespect, but it felt worse than that.

J aimed his revolver at his own chair where his opponent insolently sat behind his desk in his office. “Bet you didn’t see that coming, did you?” The Joker taunted with a slow, humourless grin stretching his features. “9 lives. 9 bullets.” He growled, “Seems a lot,” He mused, “but it’ll be worth it…”

The cat, who [Y/N] had apparently named Nyx, didn’t seem at all bothered by the loaded weapon now aimed at her head, instead, just regarded J with a lazy, almost bored, expression over the muzzle of the gun, her tail curled around her feet as she sat in the centre of the chair, the end flicking slightly as she watched him.

This was the final insult. The creature had plagued J ever since [Y/N] had decided to bring it home a few weeks ago, insisting to keep it. He knew she would only whine at him about it for months, hold it over his head, so he’d allowed her to keep it if only to get one annoying voice out of his head. Now, however, he’d rather taking [Y/N]’s constant complaining then have this creature constantly under his feet trying to trip him up, howling at him, scratching up his documents and generally just always being there.

J had tried several times to give the brute a well-aimed kick, but he’d always ended up with its teeth and claws embedded in his skin and then [Y/N] coming to its rescue, carrying it away and cooing at it like a baby. J growled out loud at the memory, clicking the safety of his gun. “Time for an extended cat nap...” He muttered darkly, staring back at the creature’s unblinking amber eyes.

“J!” The familiar voice cried from the doorway of the office. J growled in frustration. Bad timing. He rolled his neck in annoyance as he reluctantly dropped the gun. “What are you doing?!” [Y/N] demanded, as she strode quickly into his office.

“Pest control, doll.” He growled moodily, glaring at the cat who still hadn’t moved despite the chance it had been given thanks to [Y/N].

“God, I just can’t let that cat out of my sight without you making an attempt on her life, can I?!” [Y/N] muttered angrily, storming past J to scoop up the bundle of flue into her arms, the creature immediately starting to purr as it rubbed its cheek into [Y/N]’s chest, bumping her jaw affectionately with the top of its head. J grumbled under his breath as he threw his gun down onto the desk, making his way round to his and dropping sulkily down into it as [Y/N] headed for the door with his nemesis.

“Keep that thing outta my office if you don’t want a custom-made scarf, dolly.” J muttered darkly after her.

“If you gave her a change, you might actually like her, J!” [Y/N] sang as she left, not bothering to look back at him as she now left again, the despicable creature staring over her shoulder with its bright eyes at J. That single parting look of triumphant was enough to make J ground his teeth together.

He would find a way to skin that creature.

And it would be alive when he did.

J watched the man drop to the floor behind his desk, teasingly blowing on the end of his gun. It was a shame really, the man, in his time, had been a good money maker – though recently he’d become too risky with too much money – but was much more a shame, J mused, was that Frosty wasn’t here to clean up the mess.

Instead, J had sent him off with the rest of his crew not on jobs to negotiate with a new dealer who’d set up business down in a prime location by the docks. A good asset if some deal could be reached, a good meal for the monsters of the Gotham waterways if it couldn’t.

But, this particularly body would have to wait for whatever further demise was in store until Johnny-boy returned - or at least one of his men that J trusted to have enough brains to handle dumping a body…

It was gonna have to be Frosty.

“Let’s just hope ol’ Johnny-boy ain’t late again,” J muttered to himself, dropping down into his office chair again, “its gonna start smelling like old Croc-o in here real soon…” He muttered, throwing his gun onto his desk as he kicked his feet up next to it and leant back in his chair, content now to lounge in the joy that was taking care of business.

That bubble of contentment was short lived however, being sharply burst when an all too familiar meow came from directly in front of him. J scowled, gritting his teeth as he reached for his gun again, ready this time to finish the deed before [Y/N] could run to the rescue. He dropped his feet to the floor once more and now leaned his tall, slender frame over the desk towards where, on the other side of the corpse - sat as proudly as always - was the cat, Nyx.

As J’s eyes reached it, the cat dropped something from its mouth, then lightly batted it something with it’s foot, pushing the object forward so it lay alongside the dead body. J’s eyes flickered to it, not dropping his gun.

A mouse, from what J could make out. A dead mouse.

“So…” He turned his head back to the cat, “You’re a killer too, hm?” He mused, raising his eyebrows at the feline. Just then, the mouse seemed to leap back to life and make a run for it, but Nyx was on it in a flash, pinning it beneath her paws. J watched as she then shifted her paws, allowing the mouse to escape, but only a few paces before it was yanked back by where its tail was caught beneath Nyx’s claws. The cat then sat back on her haunches, watching the mouse struggle in front of her, occasionally batting it with her spare paw to keep it running. “Ha!” J snorted, sitting back, letting the gun drop in his hand and resting his chin on his hand, eying the cat with interest, “So you’re a torturer, too?” He grinned widely.

The cat meowed again in answer, now striking lethally at the mouse and then abandoning it where it lay, purposefully over the dead corpse - a complete disregard for the life that had been cut short - to make its way to the desk. J lost sight of Nyx for a moment before she then neatly leapt up onto the surface and then lightly sat down, her eyes constantly on J, her tail swishing, almost like she was appraising him. Nyx suddenly seemed to make her mind then though and, without looking away fro J, she reached out a paw to bat the gun next to her onto the floor.

J erupted into hysterical laughter, falling back in his chair. When he calmed down again he pushed his chair then leant forward, his elbows on his knees so his face was almost level with the cat’s. “I’m afraid that’s not all I have, my sweet…” He drawled with a grin, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a pen knife he proceeded to flick open. The cat watched the metal curiously and J allowed it to, twisting the blade between his fingers, the light of the office bouncing off it and reflecting onto the desktop. Nyx caught sight of this immediately, transfixed by the slightly flickering shape and sinking into a crouch, ready to stalk her new prey. She lingered in her predatory stance for a beat or two before she made her move, lithely pouncing onto the circle of light.

J fell into a fit of laughter again at this, his movements causing the beam of light to fly across the room, Nyx jumping after it. The Joker continued to tease the cat for a while - thoroughly amused by the harmless predator - allowing Nyx to pounce on the light, seemingly confident she had got it, only for J to tilt the blade slightly and the light appear frustratingly right next to her. He would then send the light and the cat careening across the room in a wild chase, almost forgetting the corpse on the floor or the reason he’d even been irritated enough to shoot him.

J eventually, almost out of breath from laughing at his taunting, flicked the knife closed and replaced it back in his pocket. Nyx paused, looking almost confused for a moment as she glanced around for the spot of light, then seemed to realise it was gone – for now at least – and turned her sights instead to where J still sat. Within a minute, she was back where she had been before, sat directly in front of the Joker, her eyes still studying his pale face with almost suspicion.

This wasn’t particular what J had wanted however, he’d hoped the cat would almost be annoyed at his antics and leave. He tried to ignore her, not particularly in the mood to skin her anymore, and instead busied himself with a pile of cash that sat by the side of him.

It was clear though, that Nyx had a change of heart towards the clown, only pausing briefly before she now stood up again, lightly treading over the papers that littered J’s desk as she made her way over to J’s hands, butting one of them. J grumbled something under his breath, gently batting her away, though she persisted, sitting back and meowing demandingly at him, gently swatting at the hand that waved at her like it was a game.

“Don’t make me get my knife back out, kitty.” J warned, pulling his hand away, giving up trying to shoo the pest, and instead resting his head back on his hand, turning his body away from the pestering feline.

This didn’t seem perturb Nyx though, who now proceeded to wind herself around his arm, rubbing her body affectionately against his sleeve and letting out a rumbling purr. J lifted his head, looking down at the creature in surprise, not knowing that sound to be produced towards him. Did it – did it like him? It was more insane then he was if it was going to take a shine to the psychotic clown who - at numerous times - had considered multiple fail-safe ways to end the creatures life for good - each just as colourful as the next.

The Joker watched the cat, almost fascinated, as he dangled a hand in front of it experimentally, and Nyx broke away from his arm, purposefully walking under his fingers and arching her back into his touch, letting out another purr at the contact. J let his fingers curl into the soft dark fur and almost warily began to stroke along the creatures back, the action almost… soothing.

“I ain’t sayin’ is not there! Um sayin’ I didn’ see nothing!” Marz cried angrily.

An eruption of angry protests broke out against this. Marz had failed. He’d been a scout, a gatherer of information -  some might say the most important part of the mission – or at least they did when that person failed.  

And that’s what he had done.

[Y/N] was the only one at the table who wasn’t trying to fight for a place in the conversation, she couldn’t care less, watching the men around her with a thoroughly bored expression, wondering how long J, at the head of the table, would let this pointless shouting go on for before he told them all to shut it. A quick glance at him told her he wasn’t really paying attention, something else on his mind. Maybe it was the rumour of a rat amongst the men.

Just then, [Y/N] jumped slightly as Nyx landed next to her on the table. She gave the cat a warm smile, glad for the company, and began to stroke her absentmindedly, Nyx arching herself into the touch, purring contently, flicking her tail lovingly at [Y/N]’s cheek. But Nyx also seemed distracted, not sitting and instead barely lingering with [Y/N] before she began to stroll leisurely away and down the meeting table in front of all the arguing men, no care for their raised voices.

“’Ey! Someone get rid of the furball.” One of the men grumbled as it walked past him, the quarrelling slowly fading out as everyone became aware of the cat sashaying amongst them. All the men watched the cat in confusion, not sure what to do.

“Boss?” Someone spoke up, looking for instruction as to what to do. J, however, remained silent where he sat watching the scene, his eyes not leaving Nyx as she looked at each man she passed.

Finally, Nyx stopped, then turned to sit directly in front of a short, balding man, staring straight at him unblinking and letting out a single meow. The man looked thoroughly confused, glancing around anxious at his colleagues, not sure what to do now. “B-Boss?” Tarz – Marz’s brother – spoke up, glancing at J, but the Joker still didn’t speak, watching Nyx as her eyes seemed to almost narrow at Tarz, her tail flicking agitatedly. “B-Boss?” Tarz tried again.

“What’s the problem, gentleman…?” J drawled quietly, speaking to the whole table, “Jumpy over a little cat?” He asked, a slow, wide grin now splitting his face, an idea in his mind it seemed. “Or should I say, scaredy cat?” He quipped with a cruel smile.

Somewhere in the room there was a click of a gun. [Y/N] opened her mouth to protest, but, before she could, J’s own gun was out on the table. “Anyone shoots the cat…” He purred, glancing around the room at each man, “I shoot them…” He promised sinisterly, and numerous men swallowed nervously, glancing around the room in an attempt to work out who had been brave enough to try to pull a gun on the Joker’s cat. “Good…” The Joker praised after no one drew their gun, “Now if everyone would be so kind as to leave…” He murmured quietly, “I’d like a little chat with Tarz here…” Tarz’s eyes widened at this, but no one tried to help him, all the other chairs pushed backwards as everyone apart from [Y/N] departed the meeting.

“Boss, it’s a cat, whattya thi-“

Tarz fell back in his chair, a hole in his forehead. Nyx stayed where she was momentarily, not at all spooked by the gunshot, almost seemingly to want to ensure the man was truly dead before she got to her feet again. She moved past [Y/N], rubbing affectionately against her again in passing, then continued towards the Joker where she proceeded to drop down into his lap, curling up comfortably. The Joker placed a hand on the dark fur of her bac, stroking without much thought to the action, immediately feeling its comforting effect.

[Y/N] smirked at the sight. “You know, you look like a James bond villain.”

J just scowled at her.

Tags for Everything: @nerdybirdyfiz @beautifulbows924 @white-chocolate-mocha-fan @jemjem-chan @arkhamsurviour @angelicshinigami @sheldonsherlocktony @thatwriterizzy

Tags for Joker: @sonyandsam @ivefeltthiswaybefore @inoke

[twxntrash]

Who’s ready for some HomuSaya angst????

This was spur of the moment little thing. Triggers for blood and death. Written on mobile so forgive me if the layout ends up weird.

“Homura, damn it, Homura come on! Where are you?” Sayaka yelled out, stumbling through the ruins that was the crumbling remains of Mitakihara City. Buildings and houses were upturned, entire blocks decimated. The grand scale damage and destruction was horrifyingly awe-inspiring.

They, the magical girls of this particular city, had just fought off Walpurgisnacht. They defended the city the best they could, with all their strength, their lives on the line. Just two magical girls against one monster of a witch. Both fighting to protect the city they lived in and to protect Madoka, a dear, treasured friend to them both. They fought, though all the odds pointed in their failure, they fought, though it would have been safer, easier to just run and hide.

To an outsiders perspective it might have been odd that Sayaka was willing to fight beside Homura, considering how most timelines went when the two were involved. It was rare enough that Sayaka survived for the final days, even rarer that she worked with Homura. The distrust, the bloodshed had been diverted this timeline by a different route Homura tried. She intercepted Miki Sayaka early on in the new timeline, befriended her before the girl could plant the seeds of suspicion and distrust. It made it easier to draw her to her own side before any animosity and suspicion could blossom. She told Sayaka the truth after gaining her confidence, rather bluntly, maybe cruelly, but it helped steer the blue haired girl away from despair. When Mami had been killed, Sayaka had understood what had happened rather than pin the blame on Homura. When it came time for her to make her wish, and she did make her wish, she hadn’t been as foolish about it as she usually did because Homura had told her when she confessed her consideration into it what the fate of magical girls were. To become the things they hunt. A monster. Sayaka knew before her wish that if her Soul Gem blackened, she would become what they fought; a witch.

In fact, Homura had told her everything after Mami had died. Including her own wish and reasons. Sayaka had taken it with surprise, but had accepted it. Another result from the alliance she had been able to forge between them, or rather- Homura was reluctant to admit this- the friendship that had formed between them. Sayaka had trouble taking in Homura’s time traveling abilities, let alone the fate she often succumbed to in most timelines. Rarely did she survive long enough to fight Walpurgisnacht, and the cause of her demise had left a bitter taste in her mouth. Yet, it had certainly made her think more carefully over her wish and her reasons. Do it wrong and she could cement her fate to become a witch. Though, in the end she still wished to fix Kyosuke’s hand, but this time knew well enough not to expect her wish to result in him returning her feelings for him. She would settle for hearing him play his violin again. But, by the looks of it, the city destroyed, she wouldn’t hear him play it ever again.

‘Damn it!’ she thought, looking around in frantic worry. She needed to find Homura, they could still fix this. They has to fix this!

With just two magical girls, the fight had gone as well as one would expect it to. They had lost. Mitakihara was all but destroyed, Sayaka doubted there were that many survivors. Even if there was a few survivors, even if Madoka had survived, this timeline had still been a failure. The witch had won, they had lost.

The timeline was going to be reset.

“I need to find her!” she muttered, climbing over debris. Searching desperately for her ally. She needed to find Homura before the girl went back in time to try and redo everything. Find her so she could go with her, so they could try together again to fix it all, “Homura!” she called out again.

There was a weak groan in response, so quiet she barely caught it.

“Sa…Miki-san….?”

Attention at hyper focus, Sayaka was quick to locate the source of the voice. Scrambling over large chunks of upturned roads and buildings as she tried to reach her. But when she made her way over crumbled chunks of buildings, piled high atop each other, she wished she didn’t come and see. Her stomach turned and blood drained from her face. After searching over the wreckage of the city, she had finally found where Homura was.

At least…. she had found where part of her was.

“Oh…. oh god…” Sayaka whispered, feeling her stomach churn. She wanted to puke at the grotesque image before her.

There the magical girl laid, in a pool of blood, her body battered, tattered and torn. What was worse; her entire lower half gone, crushed beneath some building or torn off by familiars. Sayaka could see bone and entrails peaking out through the torn and frayed edges of her outfit. Bits of steel had pierced through one of her arms, pinning it there. Her other arm, like her lower half, was missing as well. torn right below the shoulder.

“Oh god… oh god…” Sayaka whispered again, and then snapping out of her horror, she quickly slid down the rubble, stumbling over until she was at Homura’s side and dropped to her knees beside the broken girl. Quickly she brought a hand to her blood soaked neck, trying to avoid any cuts as she tried to find a pulse. Next her ear to the chest, listening to a heart beat, any sign that she was still alive. It was there but weak.

She should be dead, it was obvious she was only alive because her Souk Gem had been untouched. The agony she just gave been in, even Homura’s infamous poker face couldn’t hide it.

“Homura! Don’t worry I’m going to- I can- I’ll save you!” Sayaka said, fumbling over her own words as she tried to reach into her own magic reserves. She had burnt out almost all she had fighting Walpurgisnacht. Her own gem was nearly at it’s limit. Black covering the blue like a sheet, with just a small amount peeking out. she needed a grief seed badly or she wouldn’t last. No, she had to focus on Homura. She could heal her, she just had to dig deep.

“Mi…Miki-san,” Homura croaked weakly and gave a pained cough. Some blood came up, hitting Sayaka on the cheek, but she didn’t care. “You have… you have to g-go…” it was a clear battle just to get her words out, a battle she was losing.

“I’m not leaving you like this. We’re in this together, Transfer Student,” Sayaka snapped, focusing hard. She could fix this, she could fix Homura and they would get out of here. They could- she could go back in time with her and they could fix this. She just needed to keep Homura alive.

Homura groaned in response, and Sayaka felt some of her magic reacting, pressing hands to the bloodied body of her friend. “Just stay calm, I have you, I can fix this.”

Homura shook her head, and even such a simple action such as that seemed to invoke so much pain for her. "No…” she whispered, “Just…ta…take my soul gem.. c-come back for my body later…” she instructed, weakly trying to hold her remaining arm out to Sayaka. Her own gem had a considerable amount of darkness clouding it up. The purple so dull, it was in just as bad of shape as Sayakas.

“Homura…”

Sayaka’s clothes were stained with blood, white turning dark red. Gloves bloodied considerably, but she didn’t care. "I can fix this, Homura, I can fix this.”

“No… no you c-can’t,” another weak cough. Just talking was using up valuable energy. “We’re… we’re both in b-bad shape. Just t-take my soul gem and g-get to my apartment. I have… I have some g-grief seeds stored there… you d-don’t have the magic right now…” Homura groaned again, what was left of her body shaking from the pain and stress. "Fix y-yourself… cone back fuh…for me.”

Her outfit transformed into her school uniform, her soul gen rested on her shaking palm as she held it out to her, “take it.”

“Homura…” Sayaka whispered, letting the gem be placed in her own hands. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes as she forced herself to stand in trembling knees, her legs threatening to buckle under her. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’ll, I’ll be back,” she whispered, backing away slowly, afraid to take her eyes off Homura as she held her soul gem in her hands. It felt cold to the touch. She only turned around when she couldn’t see Homura anymore.

Despite her injuries, Sayaka ran through the city ruins as her legs bled and burned. Holding the soul gem, Homura’s soul close to her heart.

She prayed the apartment still stood, that the grief seeds were still there.

[devnny]

CHAPTER THREE.

JTRM — THE “R” STANDS FOR RECOVERING!

PREVIOUSLY.

It’s time for Devi’s side of the torment!! It pains me to write her as anything but sarcastically happy, but c'est la vie...

Devi sucked listlessly on her Brain-Freezy, eyes trained on nothing in particular, while Johnny continued happily scrawling away from his seat on the floor.

She killed him. She really did.

Well, sort of.

It was an unnerving feeling, the metaphorical blood on her hands. Even with a history of guys around her losing eyeballs and brains, or bursting into flames beside her, none of that gore was ever her fault – aside from the chalk-induced asthma attack that killed poor Spindgey Simons, which was gruesome enough for her. The most violent Devi had ever gotten was beating the man sitting a few feet away from her within an inch of his life, which he had done well to deserve, in every regard. So, it was strange to be so hung up over pushing that one inch further and actually killing him – inadvertently or not.

The point was that Johnny laid the responsibility of his impermanent demise solely on her, and maybe that’s why it bothered her so much.

The fact that Johnny was more-or-less elated that she had been the unsuspecting command behind the very real trigger was baffling to her, but of course, he was naturally more comfortable with the concepts of murder and death than she was. At some point, he’d rationalized murder as a means to an end of bitter, ugly things, so to him, the fantasy of her blowing all the horrendous, malicious things clean out of his head with one shot must be so romantic. Devi would have gagged if she wasn’t so disoriented.

She needed to talk this out with someone, and there was only one person she’d place that much misguided trust in. Her legs bent as she moved to sit up.

“Hey Nny.”

Johnny’s head bobbed up immediately, and again her stomach squeezed anxiously from his eager response.

“I forgot that I… promised to check in on my neighbor-friend. The rats have gotten so bad, I worry they’ll start eating her feet off while she’s asleep.”

Devi looked to the side, hoping such a stupid lie could pass as a bizarre truth. Johnny watched her a moment, inquisitive eyes darting around the space of her figure, before tilting his head acceptingly as he turned his attention back to the page.

“Yeah, the rats’ll do that. They always start ankles first.” Was his reply. Devi held in the nausea that she felt from how knowledgeable he sounded about the subject.

“RIGHT.” She balked. “So, I’m going to go run down and check on her, before y’know, the rats get at her. You just uh, stay here, keep working, I’ll try and keep it quick.”

Johnny seemed less comfortable about the idea of being left alone, but agreed as casually as he could. Devi didn’t hesitate to rush out, lest something stupid manifest to stop her from reaching her destination, again. Even if Sickness was neatly contained right now, she hadn’t forgotten the lengths the little tumor had gone through to make the halls of the building an impassible maze of shit.

Her strides got faster without her notice the closer that she got to Tenna’s apartment, and her heart steadily increased to a panicked pace as the direness of her situation sunk in. Her fist landed hard on the door, whacking against the cheap material franticly. A single concerned squeak was the initial reply, which at least confirmed Tenna was inside, and awake.

“Tenna, it’s me, open up!” Devi whispered as loudly as she could. It only took a few seconds for the door to open.

“Oh my God, Devi, he’s murdered you hasn’t he!?” She gasped, but didn’t receive any answer besides being pushed back inside her home. Devi released her grip on her friend’s arms to walk in paranoid circles around the living room, muttering curses to herself. Tenna watched her go around with large, kitty eyes.

“Oookay, so obviously he hasn’t murdered you.” She commented, growing more concerned the longer Devi hissed and spat at no one. “…Did you kill him??”

“No!” Devi looked at her, devastated. “I MEAN—YES!”

Tenna covered her mouth in horror at the admission, and Devi dropped onto the couch with her face in her hands. Tenna quickly scuttled to her friend’s side, arm slung around her in a messy hug.

“Oh shit, Devi! That’s – very bad!! But I bet he did something to bring that on right? Right?” She asked hurriedly. Devi rested her elbows on her thighs and hung her head down.

“Shit, shit, shit, fuck, FUCK.” She shuddered out. “No Tenna, he’s not dead. But I killed him. I did! I killed someone.”

“…Uh, what?”

Devi shivered, shaking her head again.

“You remember that night you told me to call him? And we heard a bang and a scream and all that?”

“Yyyeah?” Tenna looked away uncomfortably at the memory.

“The bang was a gunshot. He had something rigged up that if he answered the phone it would shoot him, and that… killed him. He died that night.” Devi stared at the ground. Saying it aloud was horrible. “But because he had those brain-things – or maybe it was the primordial demon living in his fucking WALLS – he got a redo. Satan sent his ass back here, mostly parasite free. Fan-fucking-tastic.”

Tenna could only stare at Devi in concern.

“And he convinced you of all that?”

Devi immediately defended her certainty in the outlandish story.

“Tenna no, he was, like, having a fucking epiphany in my living room! You had to see him – he was absolutely losing it, ranting about how I saved him from his insanity and this and that – oh GOD.”

She fell back on the couch, melting into a heap on her side. Tenna patted her arm sadly.

“Damn it, Tenna, what did I get myself into?” Devi groaned into the cushion. “He’s still up at my place, and I have no fucking idea how I’m going to go back up there.”

“Poor, poor, foolish Devi.” Tenna sighed and continued her patting.

“No kidding. He was so bizarre about it, Ten. He looked at me like his salvation. Like I’m a fucking saint, or something.”

“Well, bright side, at least he won’t try to murder you again if he thinks you’re the Patron Saint of Destroying Head-demons, right?” Tenna thought a moment. “Well, he did try to kill you because you were his only joy in life, or whatever, so…”

Devi screamed her torment into a couch cushion for a few seconds, then sat up again, calmer now.

“No, I don’t think he’s going to try to kill me.” She said plainly. “At least not right now, anyhow. Who knows how he’ll be the more these… lessons go on.”

“You’re still going to mentor him?”

“Well, yeah, I guess!” Devi shot her hands out in exasperation. “If I told him to fuck off now that’d probably just piss him off. I don’t even know if he’ll leave me alone now that he likes me so much.”

Tenna could sense the repulsion wafting off of Devi with that emphasizing on “like”.

“Ewww, you don’t think he’d… try anything, right? All touchy-touchy?”

“Ugh, no. Thank God.” Devi looked up at the ceiling. “That was one of the things I liked about him so much, at the start. He never tried anything like that. Never tried to grab my hands or put his hands on me, or get me to put my hands on him all flirty-like – he didn’t even ask me out, I asked him. And that stupid… kiss, I initiated that too.”

“YOU wanted to give another human being a KISS?” Tenna’s eyes glittered teasingly.

“Mmughhh, don’t torment me.”

“You really liked him.”

“UUUUGH.” Devi slumped again. Why was her life so hideously unfair, constantly?

“None of those HORRIBLE choices matter right now. I’m freaking out over kinda-sorta killing this guy, and also that he’s totally enamored about it.” She exhaled. “I just needed to… let that out, I guess. Because I’m stuck with him now, for some unknown amount of time.”

Devi got up and stretched her arms and neck out while she walked. Tenna pouted.

“So you’re just gunna go back up there…?” Tenna debated momentarily if she should try and talk Devi into staying longer, or not going back at all, but any deterrent would be unlikely to work, knowing Devi, unless she had a couple of weeks to chip away at her immense stubbornness. She offered her some uplift-y parting words, instead.

“Well, I guess I’m glad you’ve been with him for like, an hour, and no death has happened yet.”

“Thanks, Ten. I’ll… call you when he leaves, or something. Wish me luck.” She sighed and left to return to her self-made mental turmoil.

--

LATER, UPSTAIRS:

“How’s this?” Johnny lifted up his finished comic to be inspected by his newly-appointed tutor. Devi pulled her mouth away from the straw of her now-melted Brain-Freezy and took the tablet from him, reading over his scratchy handwriting as best she could.

It was a fairly simple multi-panel Happy Noodle Boy comic, with protagonist hollering about ugly things on the street and committing acts of erratic violence. One of the comments he made was randomly about having head pain, and Devi wondered a moment if Johnny just used half of what was intended dialogue, and the rest was random thoughts that went through his mind while he wrote – in this case, likely a brain freeze. She decided not to bring up the writing and focused on the effort put into some of the panels.

“Y’know, even if it’s just stick figures, you’ve got a pretty good handle on perspective.” Devi commented with a lenient nod. Johnny’s eyes glistened a moment from the positive feedback, but made sure to flicker his pupils down and away from Devi’s focus when she moved to hand him back his drawing.

“I think your original talent’s still in there someplace, Nny. It’s like a drippy faucet, you just need to turn the water on – something like that.” She took another sip of her drink. Johnny stared at the comic laid across his lap.

“You said it was being “rerouted”, before.” He replied. Devi perked an eyebrow, but after a moment remembered their previous conversation on the cliff about the same subject.

“Well, if you’re not murdering creatively as an artistic outlet now, there’s only one place for it to go.” She peered down at him, and Johnny lifted his head in modest surprise.

Like usual, Devi was right. Compared to his life before the wall-thing’s destruction, he killed far, far less frequently, and definitely much less colorfully than before. He used to pull out intestines with salad tongs at buffet tables; break off limbs and reattach them to another victim with a staple gun; insert things that should never be inside a human being into orifices and then sew them up – now his killings were sparse, and straightforward in nature. A tire iron to the head of a truck stop bastard was a merciful attack, in comparison to what he would have done to him for the same offense a year earlier.

“I guess so.” He mumbled noncommittally, despite his growing certainty about it.

“You’ve just been distracted still, which is obvious with the existence of your Meaty guy. All I’m doing is making you focus your energy onto paper instead of letting it evaporate out of you.”

Johnny was silent a moment before speaking again, picking at his drawing absentmindedly.

“And what if that doesn’t work?” He asked. Devi stuck her lip out curiously.

“It will.” She affirmed, even if she wasn’t exactly sure of it herself, seeing as the only test of her theory was her own experience. But with those statistics, it worked one-hundred percent of the time, and those were good odds, right?

Johnny didn’t look totally convinced, but decided to trust Devi on the matter, for now. She had yet to steer him wrong as it was, and as she had implied before, he was the urchin in need of guidance, not her.

“Right…” He murmured as his eyes shifted away. Devi held in a sigh. She suddenly felt more exhausted with offering up her free emotional energy to play therapist to Johnny, and decided she was done for the night.

“Welp. That’s enough arting for one night, I think!” Devi announced with a pair of slaps against her knees. She sat up and walked from her seat to the middle of the room, as if to urge her guest to get up as well. She had successfully survived an entire night with her former attempted-murderer, and with the evening’s events still weighing on her, she was unwilling to let it drag on and invite something even weirder to happen. Johnny was surprised by the abrupt ‘last call’, and watched her move away with hesitant eyes.

He got up, if only to appease her, but the idea of leaving her side now made him a pinch more anxious than he would have liked. It might have just been a delusional sense of security, but it was one that he had grown quite comfortable in for the few hours that he remained at her apartment after his revelation, and the fact that he would need to leave had escaped him until she had said as much. In all likelihood, Johnny thought, Devi probably wanted to sleep, a bodily function that he often forgot other people did nightly. He wouldn’t want to deprive her of it, even if the concept of sleeping was completely unalluring to himself.

“Oh, yes.” He stalled while he tried to think of some small talk to distract himself. “That was quite a bit of drawing, for me anyway.”

“It’s a start.” Devi gave him a tiny smile, and Johnny felt he chest swell with pride – both in accomplishing the task given to him, and for seemingly pleasing Devi. He messily loaded up his pencil bag, then stepped around the coffee table to linger near her side at the door for a moment.

“So… do I come back tomorrow?” He asked. Devi’s eyes widened in surprise, mostly at herself for not even considering a time for this new addition to her schedule.

“Oh, uh,” She tried to think. “—maybe not tomorrow.”

Devi couldn’t tell by Johnny’s expression if he was saddened by that, or if his stare was one of expectance, waiting for instruction from her. Truth be told, he could come over tomorrow, but she wanted a some time to digest all of this, and maybe plan things better, if that was even possible.

“I’m going to send you home with er, well, homework!” Her mouth hitched up on one side in an awkward smile. “Just… draw a couple of things while you’re away, and bring them back in, uh…”

God, how she wished she didn’t have to give herself a countdown for this.

“—in, um, three days! Same time.” A wider smile forced over her face, and she tried not to think about how she had less than a meager seventy-two-hour window of no-Johnny time to rethink her life choices. Johnny wasn’t happy to have to wait that long to see her again, but accepted her judgement with as little pouting as he could manage.

“Alright, I will see you at 6:00PM, in three days.” He repeated aloud, more so to make sure he remembered than anything else. Devi nodded and opened the door for him.

“Great! Okay, see you later, Nny!” Her voice barely held back her deep desire to be alone now. Johnny smiled at her and waved a sporadic goodbye with his hand beside his chin.

“Bye!” He bid happily. Devi only waited for him to turn around before shutting and locking the door as quickly as she could.

Her hand remained tightly clenched around the last lock as she finally, genuinely, allowed herself to absorb everything that had happened tonight. Her forehead hit the doorframe with a forlorn thud, and her shoulders lowered pitifully.

Learning she had been the cause of Spindgey’s death as a child was hard enough to swallow, but at least it was medical-related. An asthma attack – it was about as bad as accidentally giving a kid with a peanut allergy a bite of your PB&J during lunch hour.

Knowing her actions had lead to the grisly, violent demise of anyone, let alone someone she used to… care about, was sickening. Truly nauseating. Her imagination was too healthy for her own good at the moment, visualizing Johnny bloody and broken on the floor of his house, a circular piece of his fucking skull missing. She suddenly regretted having seen so many horror films, as any and all concepts of exit wounds and brain matter haunted her in a fleeting flash of imaginary gore. It was only made worse by the new memories of his upbeat, enthused expressions from the rest of the night.

Just for a moment, Devi despised those new memories of his happiness that she had. They reminded her of the ‘old’ Johnny, and she didn’t want to picture him as he was before – how she had perceived him; as a comically-cynical movie nut and art buff. Someone that she enjoyed spending time with, laughing about how stupid people could be, and musing over whether this-or-that had deeper meanings. Mixing the image of his sneery smile that she used to love so much with any idea of how he could have looked in the clutches of death made her want to convulse in hurt and disgust.

She urged herself to her bedroom and sprawled across the face of her bed, before bundling herself up in a misshaped, unhappy ball. If the universe would permit it, she would be grateful to not think about him for the entire three days that she would be without him, but Devi knew without a doubt that the universe sucked ass, and that she would be plagued with constant thoughts of her new ‘pupil’ whether she liked it or not.

--

NEXT.