#cockroaches however. they can die in a fire

[tmmyhug]

how is a girl supposed to get her nighty night glass of milk in these inhumane conditions (saw THREE separate cockroaches in the kitchen)

[trippin-chippin]

So, can you please explain whiskey and moonshine’s relation? You said they were half sisters, do they have the same mom or same dad?

Idk I just want their backstory, tell as much as you’d like!

No problem! 😆 this is prolly gonna be a lot more than what you asked for tho😅

A little bit of background info: whiskey is two years older than moonshine.

Alright so, whiskey and moonshine are half sisters and they have the same mom (Jackey) and to different dads.

Moonshine’s dad is (Mr Bailey). I always joke about moonshine being the product of a one night stand and well… she did come from one😂

Whiskey’s dad (Daniel). He was married to Jackey and was loyal to her. He also knew about her pregnancy from the one night stand, but he decided to give her another chance because he didn’t want his kid (Whiskey) and the one on the way (moonshine) to live without a mother and a father figure.. lol that backfired. And Jackey wasn’t in the best mental state at the time so he also wanted to be there for her as well.

Now there was a third sister that was whiskey’s twin. Her name was going to be (Rie) but unfortunately she died shortly after birth. So there was actually supposed to be 3 girls, but one didn’t make it.

Alright I’m gonna talk about the incident of 1999 so below this point

(You don’t have to read this part)

TW: gun, deaths, traumatic scenes, suicide, etc…. Some messed up shat

Alright so fast forward to 1999, whiskey was nine years old along with moonshine being six year old. Now like I said, Jackey wasn’t in the best mental state and so that made her have suicidal thoughts… and well, she tried to act upon those thoughts; however, Daniel would try to stop her each time. He’d also get the kids away so if something did happen, they wouldn’t see it. Throughout the past he had managed to stop her and calm her down, but the day in 1999 he was unsuccessful.

That day was quiet and Jackey wasn’t really saying much and she went outside to the backyard with a gun. (Whiskey and moonshine were in the house so they weren’t aware of what was going on). Well Daniel seen her walk out back so he followed her to once again talk to her and calm her down. As he got outside he saw that she had it pointing to her chest, so he ran out to her to stop her. Little did he know, the gun was loaded and was ready to go off, so when he was trying to get the gun away from her it went off, into her chest.

After that whiskey and moonshine heard this, and so being the two curious kids they were they went outside to unfortunately see their mother laying on the ground.

Alright this parts a bit funky so bare with me….. The gun that was used was a revolver, so there was many rounds in it. When the gun kicked back after going off, Daniel caught it, in which he dropped it after he just realized what happened. He didn’t know whiskey and moonshine was outside running to them and the only thing he thought of was that his wife just died. Now like I said here’s the funky part: when he dropped the revolver the “rotating part” shifted (and in some cases when a loaded gun hits something, it can fire) which is what happened. Whiskey was running up to them and when the gun hit the ground it fired again and got whiskey. Moonshine was further away and was out of the way so basically she just was just there and watched the whole thing.

Daniel didn’t know that the girls were outside till he looked over and seen whiskey on the ground with moonshine standing over her (somehow whiskey didn’t die, idk she’s like a cockroach or something). He seen whiskey and Jackey on the ground and he was so caught up in what happened because at that point he thought that he just lost his wife AND his daughter, so he grabbed the gun and committed suicide out of guilt even though he didn’t so anything wrong.

Moonshine just was there and finally help came and stuff like that and Daniel, Jackey, whiskey, and moonshine was taken to the hospital, but Jackey and Daniel was pronounced dead.

ANYWAYS that’s why one of whiskey eyes is messed up and looks like a x cause that is where she was shot. Now since it was in her head her growth was stunted you could say and basic she’s the same height she was when she was nine. Also that’s why moonshine is so up tight about everything.

[theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin]

"I have some problems with [Luke] as a character)" was mentioned in your Reylo response post. Very interested in what your thoughts are on Luke! 👀

Do you want me to get murdered?! Well, if I didn’t get lynched for calling Sirius Black a Stephen King villain I can surely do no worse here.

Let’s do this.

Caveat that, as usual, I am wearing a heretic hat and expect no one to agree with what I’m saying.

Luke Skywalker, much like Harry Potter, is not the character the authors and vast majority of the audience seem to think he is. Luke is seen as the true coming of the Jedi, the light side of the Force incarnate, and someone so innately good he was able to redeem his father, restore peace to the galaxy, and restore the Jedi Order.

I disagree with all of this.

I think this is what Luke thinks he did but the truth is far sadder and, well, in general worse.

First, let’s start off with Luke’s hero’s journey throughout the saga.

Luke starts your ordinary guy, he’s not bad by any means, but he’s not particularly good either. He lives in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, part of a relatively well off family, and set to inherit the world’s most boring business: moisture farming. He has dreams of going out, seeing the world, and becoming a great pilot.

Important to remember but what most people gloss over: Luke starts if not pro-empire then neutral towards it. Luke wants to attend flight school, given his desire for glory and adventure, he probably wants to join the empire’s military. He might not like Storm Troopers all that much but the fire of revolution doesn’t burn in his heart the way it does Leia’s.

Now, personally, I like this about Luke. It makes sense to me. Given where and how Luke grows up, given all he’s ever known, I think this makes perfect sense for his viewpoint. He might get hassled by stormtroopers now and then but the empire really doesn’t interfere with his life except in a) propaganda b) offering an escape from his dull existence. What would someone like Luke know about the Rebel Alliance?

The movie however... sort of goes out of its way not to acknowledge this, and this is where I start having problems with Luke. Luke gets Leia’s message about Obi-Wan Kenobi, sees the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen in his life, and gets to embark on this amazing adventure. The story sort of takes it for granted that he then agrees with old hermit, Obi-Wan, that the empire is evil. This is helped because Luke does too.

In other words, Luke’s opinions are very shallow and lack any introspection. Finding himself in the company of Jedi, smugglers, and hot rebel princesses, Luke suddenly goes, “Ah, yeah, I hate the empire!” We never really see him change his mind by reflecting over what the Death Star means/the destruction of Alderaan, the death of his relatives, or his meeting with Darth Vader. Luke seems to be won over... Honestly, it feels like it’s because the Rebel Alliance let him fly a plane before the Empire did.

Then he blows up the Death Star, is a galactic hero/enemy number one of the empire, and he’s full on board resistance man and the next Jedi.

Which brings us to point number two, Luke legitimately thinks he’s a Jedi.

Obi-Wan gives him half a word of advice for maybe half of a day, watching Luke swing a sword around and get shot at by a robot. Yoda trains Luke in a swamp for, generously, maybe a week or so before Luke ditches him (against his advice even) to go save his friends. Luke has 0 training (beat out only by Rey, who wasn’t trained at all). More, he lives in a world where everything he knows of the Jedi is colored by Palpatine’s propaganda and old legends. The Jedi temples have been ransacked and presumably next to nothing of the Jedi culture remains, I can imagine Palpatine as being nothing but thorough in his elimination of the Jedi religion. The Jedi survived in Obi-Wan, Yoda, and in some sense Anakin Skywalker.

They do not survive in Luke. Luke puts on some quasi-Jedi robes, slashes his sword around a few times to save Leia from Jabba, and he says, “Now I am a Jedi!” Luke is that kid, LARPing, yelling “firebolt, firebolt, firebolt!” Only, that is, if the LARPing consisted of him representing a massacred culture thinking he’s it’s sole legitimate heir. So... Luke is playing Cowboy and Indians, and he’s the Indian.

In my opinion, Vader wasn’t so much redeemed as he always had a very high priority in finding his son and keeping him alive. The obvious way to do this would be to take Luke as an apprentice and, eventually, murder Palpatine. Well, that didn’t pan out, and eventually Anakin chooses murder-suicide to save his son’s life. It’s very touching, I’m not knocking the moment, but I do think a lot of that was Anakin vice the inherent goodness of Luke.

Anyways, Luke and pals save the day, they start a new republic and then they learn life is complicated. The new republic fails within decades, worse, it’s feeble and likely torn apart by civil war, strife, and constant infighting. It is utterly powerless, to the point where the First Order easily rises to replace the Empire and take over its vast resources (with Palpatine building a secret sith army on the side no less). That Leia rather than lead an army through the new republic in the sequels is leading her own private resistance army is very telling.

Fitting in with this, Luke starts a Jedi Academy. The prequels, and yes go ahead and slander them all you like but they’re better than many admit, taught us a few things but one of them is that it is hard to be a Jedi. To walk the path of a Jedi is to open yourself up to great temptation to use the dark side, and the dark side isn’t just some strange quirk or sense of duality, it is the equivalent of selling your soul. It is an unnatural action that leads to unnatural abilities. 

You get a bunch of Force Sensitive kids in a room: you better know what you’re doing.

Luke doesn’t. He collects a handful of the remaining Jedi artifacts that Palpatine somehow didn’t destroy, opens up his Jedi School (even teaching his nephew), and within maybe five years the place is burned to the ground, his students murdered by his nephew, and his nephew runs off to join a Sith Lord who appeared out of nowhere (Luke not realizing that this was just immortal cockroach Palpatine). 

Luke then becomes a grumpy old man who just can’t deal, sits on a rock drinking blue milk, and whines that for how shitty of a teach he was that Obi-Wan guy was worse for messing up with his father. Which, frankly, is very in character for Luke.

Luke has never really failed in his life, or at least, never had to recognize his own failure. So, when he does, he a) doesn’t realize what went wrong b) blames everyone but himself c) sits on a rock and waits to die.

So yeah, that’s Luke for you.

A whiney, shallow, stupid, somewhat narcissistic, hero. I... don’t dislike the concept of his character, played more straight I’d love his character, but I dislike that people talk about him like he’s the most noble creature to ever grace the planet and has this inherent understanding of a murdered people that the murdered people themselves never had. 

(All the Jedi were doing it wrong! Luke made the real Jedi Order! Is something I see a lot and... well... say what you will about their philosophies, but this kid who was not a part of that culture “doing it better”... That’s real problematic folks, real problematic.)

[some-dr-writings]

Fuyuhiko x Reader who won’t confess

·       Of all people you could have fallen for, why did it have t be the YAKUZA BOSS!? He has a bad temper on top of that! What if you tried asking him out and he was insulted by it so he had you killed!? Nope! No! You couldn’t do it! You were way too scared! It would be best you ignore the feelings…

·       …

·       But how could you!? Sure, he was a hot head, but he was a good guy, kind and loyal to his friends. It didn’t help either that you saw each other every day because you were in the same class. It also REALLY didn’t help that your best friend there was Peko, her and Fuyuhiko never spent much time together but the few times they did they seems to be good friends, and Peko seemed to know a lot about Fuyuhiko, so the pair of you would end up talking about him and your crush on him often.

·       “I understand your apprehension, but you can try talking to him more, nothing has happened to our other classmates who have gotten close to him.” “Peko. Gurl. I am the Super High School Level Crime Boss. I may be bold and cunning, but I’m not going to approach the heir of the biggest and greatest crime syndicate in Japan with something like this. I could go with the excuse we are both great powers and should be on amicable terms so we don’t slaughter one another, but that would be a lie, and we don’t lie in my family.” “… Would it be a lie to say you wanted to get to know him because you like him, and he is your classmate?” “… Hmm… perhaps. Even so, I don’t need others on looking, possibly seeing us getting chummy and taking that as a threat.”

·       You didn’t avoid the man per se, but you did try to spend as little time with him as possible, fearful of him asking something in just the right way where you couldn’t dance around it and would have to confess. The few times you did get to spend time together was rather nice.

·       The wind rolled past carrying bright green leaves along with it, a much-needed break from the heat that came pouring down from the cloudless sky. You sighed, taking a sip of your cold drink. With the condensation on the glass, it slipped in your hands for a moment, almost spilling into your lap. You and Peko chatted away at the balcony of the café, loving the summer day. You sighed noticing Fuyuhiko from the corner of your eye. You had figured out long ago that Peko was Fuyuhiko’s secret bodyguard, the man always was near by whenever the pair of you spent time together outside of school. He was even generous and kind to his subordinates letting them live life outside of his syndicate. It truly kind man.

·       “Hmm, oh, Kuzuruyu, hello.” “Huh?” “What?” Clearly both you and the man were caught off guard, it evident on your faces. “What are you doing here?” “Uh… Well, this place just opened but I’ve heard nothing but good things, so I decided to check it out.” “Same with us. Say why don’t you join us?” You spat out your drink, choking on it mid-sip hearing the suggestion, thankfully for the heir who only would have gotten flustered if you had noticed the bright scarlet that had erupted on his cheeks when he approached you and Peko. “Y/N!?” “I’ll get some more napkins.” Peko immediately dashed off, leaving Fuyuhiko with you. You were still coughing, covering your face with napkins, embarrassed by the whole situation and not wanting your crush to see you like this. Nervously Fuyuhiko pat your back, feeling too awkward to do much else. When you settled down you were completely embarrassed but tried to remain calm and let the staff clean the table. “You okay?” “Physically, yes. Emotionally, no, I am a wreak right now.” “Ah.” …

·       …

·       Thankfully for the awkwardness neither of you tried to make idle chit-chat allowing you to notice… something. “Since the staff are taking care of things let’s look for Peko.” “Yeah.” Instead, you both immediately left the premises. Your suspicion was confirmed, you were being followed. At the first opportunity you raced to anything you could use for a quick getaway, a motorcycle this time. Mentally you apologized to the couple and made sure make a note to repay them with a new motorbike later as you slammed a helmet on Fuyuhiko’s head, dashing away on the bike.

·       “Sorry for getting you caught up in this. I recognize the bastard, some assassin who’s like a cockroach, won’t just die no matter how much lead I pump into em’!” A bang sounded, a gun having been fired, the bullet landing right beside the tire sending a few sparks flying. “A cockroach. I’ve dealt with the likes before. Focus on driving, I’ll take care of them.” “Alright. Let’s see how good of a shot you are!” A chuckle seeped out of you, the thrill of the chase always something you couldn’t help but enjoy no matter the danger. With a rev of the engine you took a sharp turn, turning around, leaving skid marks on the pavement as you did so before charging head on for the car behind you. Fuyuhiko blew out a tire as you raced past. “Only two in the car, usually has at least ten assistants. Don’t let your guard down!” “Wasn’t going too. This isn’t my first assassination plot.” “Except you’re a bystander who got dragged in this time, so at least you aren’t the primary target.”

·       Fuyuhiko kept up carefully aimed fire, only having so-many bullets, but you though trying to escape and dodge fire you also specifically made opportunities for Fuyuhiko to get good shots in on any attackers.

·       “Fuck! Gun’s jammed!” “OF COURSE!” Fuyuhiko kept muttering swears under his breath desperately trying to get the damn thing to work again. You looked over your shoulder for a moment, finding Fuyuhiko opted the hurl the junk at the car, cracking the windshield right on the driver’s side. “Hah! Nice one.” “Don’t celebrate just yet. We’re out of fire now.” “Hell no! We could die at any moment, so we’ve gotta celebrate when we can!” You laughed, speeding away as the car behind you wavered, almost crashing. Still though it made chase. Now it was completely up to you to keep you both alive. Taking a sharp turn off the street you instead raced down an alleyway in between buildings. You smiled seeing where you were. “Take in that ocean air Kuzuryu! We’re almost home free!” “Home free you say? Alright, show me what you’ve got!”

·       “There’s more assassins!” “Got it.” Unfortunately the streets by the sea side were much narrower than deeper in the city so dodging was near impossible, all you could do was weave between cars and hope for the best.

·       “Kuzu, Hold on tight!” You dashed through traffic, turning into the opposite lane and cutting across it, slipping between spaces in the railing. Unfortunately, the hill beyond the railing was a bit steeper than you remembered, the pair of you being in the air for a while before crashing down, wavering too much you could only keep balance for a few moments before flipping over.

·       “Hey. Hey, Y/N!” You groaned, slowly getting up, your head ringing and the world swirling and spinning. “Y-you alright?” “For now, but we need to go!” Taking your arm he pulled you up and ran along. The motorcycle left deep marks in the ground, signaling where it crashed, pointing out where you were. “Just gotta get to the docks. We’ll be safe there.” “Got it!”

·       Quickly the pair of you ran along, hiding behind anything you could, from shrubbery to beach umbrellas, the gun fire raining down around you. However for a short time it did suddenly come to a stop. “Peko!” Indeed it was the swords woman, putting a stop to the attacks as long as she could.

·       “Young Master!” Finally you had reunited on the docks. Not stopping for even a moment you raced for a building, kicking the door down upon entering. “Get in the seaplane, now!” The moment your companions were in, you started the engine, immediately going not even giving them the opportunity to strap in.

·       You were surrounded by nothing but blue. Blue skys, blue water, not another plane or boat in sight. You let out a shaky breath, shuttering. “Holy hell, I have not had a chase like that in a while! You two okay? If not there’s a first aid kit under my seat. If you have any serious injuries we’ll have to land and do work on the wing of the plane. But if it can wait for an hour or so we can take care of it on the island.” It was a rather small plane, just for personal use so there was little room, only enough for four seats to be squished against to one another. “I’m fine. Peko-” “I am unharmed. However, you have several cuts.” “Y/N, you’ve been shot!” You gritted your teeth, instead focusing on piloting. “Maybe… but it can wait.” “No! You’re landing this thing right now!” “Kuzuryu! The island has much better supplies for this, and though I know there are no other sea planes in the docks they could have them hidden elsewhere and I want minimal risk of them finding us and my private hideaway. So we have to out run them” “… Fine, but we’re using the first aid kit on you.”

·       You winced as Peko and Fuyuhiko tried patching the wound as best they could. The bullet didn’t get in too deeply but the longer your flight went on the more that fiery pain seeped into you, it no longer being ignorable as your adrenaline lowered and slowed. You could feel our heart pounding against your rib cage, your breathing getting heavier. “Y/N, you’re pale.” “I-I’m fine.” “Like Hell you are! Don’t pull that bull shit with me!” “I can fly this thing, if I can keep doing that I’m fine. It… it’s not too much farther now.”

·       …

·       You were in the cabin. “A-aunty, Uncle.” You smiled, knowing you had arrived at the island safely seeing the elderly pair. “Wh-where’s my guests? How are they?” The woman simply gestured to the wide open doors leading to your tropical paradise, the sand and ocean waves so close, Fuyuhiko and Peko standing in the frame. Fuyuhiko had a few bandages but seemed fine. Both of them looked relived. “Boss shall we leave you with your guests?” “Yeah, but before you go, how long till I’m healed?” “You may get up now.” You looked questioningly to the older gentleman. “We sedated you with sleeping drugs this time so you would not have to just lie in bed and constantly sneak out instead of resting for your health.” “H-hey! I’m not that reckless!” “Boss, you had three bullet wounds.” You simply shriveled in your bed. “I-I needed to check on everyone else myself. Too many got injured that time. Those basters needed to pay.” “And you can not risk your health when doing so, Boss.” “… Thank you, Uncle. You and Aunty prepare some food for us.” In unison the elderly folk said ‘Yes, boss’ heeding your command and making their leave. “I shall assist.” And Peko left with them. Slowly you sat up, getting out of bed. “Well… care for a walk? I feel rather sluggish from having slept for several days at least apparently.” “Sure.”

·       Even if you would regret it later, you could safely spend time with the man now, knowing none other than Peko where here to protect him and heed his command. Just this once you could get a little closer without fear, and more importantly, learn exactly how bad his injuries were.

·       You took the chance to explain to Fuyuhiko just who exactly your assailants were, how they were actually an organization made by rogue government officials who wanted you dead no matter the consequences. How this island was your personal place you only allowed the most trusted of family members in your organization to go to, or those injured should this place be the most convenient, how you ‘Aunty’ and ‘Uncle’ were individuals who had worked in your organization since you first created it and were like family though not actually being blood related to you or even married to one another. And… you just kept talking like how you found this island and made it your home away from home, about school and your classmates. You both just talked about whatever through the day.

·       And soon there you were sitting on the sandy shore, looking up to the starlit sky. “Really? I don’t believe it.” “No, I really did crash the car there.” “You call the assassins cockroaches, but that more so describes you.” “What!?” Fuyuhiko couldn’t help but chuckle a little seeing your reaction. “Yeah, surviving car crashes, being shot through the chest, poisoning, now a motorcycle crash. Seems you’re unkillable.” “Excuse me, but all of those were calculated risks!” “Exactly. Even in crazy situations you can keep calm and take the less disastrous outcome…” His smile faded, a more serious expression taking on his features. “Y’know… When I step up as the leader of the Kuzuryu clan, I’ll need someone strong, and capable by my side… maybe… someone like you.” “……… Are you… confessing, or am I horribly misreading this.” Fuyuhiko froze, a blush flaring up on his cheeks. “Well, I think we worked rather well together today so… W-wanna go out?” “Yes! Absolutely yes!” “O-oh… alright then.” Clearing his throat he stood up. “Well… it’s getting late, I’m shoving off to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow… maybe you could give me a run of the grounds here?” “Yeah, definitely!” “Good… I’m looking forward to it.”

·       “Oh my god, Peko, I finally asked them out! And they said ‘Yes’!” “Good for you, Young Master.” “I didn’t even hesitate! I know you said they it would be safe since nothing had happened to our other classmates, but… they’re still the Boss of the greatest crime syndicate over seas! This could have gone horribly and I just did it! I didn’t even use the excuse we should be on good terms or allies, so we don’t kill each other. I just asked them out!”

·       Even if Peko’s plan didn’t go quite as she thought it would it still worked out. Her duty is to protect her young master, so it would not do for him to kill himself due to stressing over asking his crush out. She already knew things were going to turn out great for the pair of you. You were so alike and so drastically different you just complimented one another perfectly.

[rosepetalwings]

Azalea - Take Care of Yourself For Me

hope you're alright getting some dessertrune lads :'3

Azalea - Take Care of Yourself For Me

Another late night at the office. Why did it always seem Rouxls had to lag behind to finish up the work of the day?

Hah. As if he needed to ask himself, Rouxls thought bitterly as his fingertips pecked at his keyboard with a stewing ire. Rouxls knew why. Mr. Halberd just liked seeing him squirm. Squirm like a cockroach under his massive, hulking boot. Rex often said it was because he was the best in the office but he and Rex both knew Rouxls was barely more competent than any other fool in the workplace. Hell, he was sure even Jevil could pick at this spreadsheet faster than-

Fuck. Goddamnit...!

There was the ice again. Freezing his stomach first and then creeping up his spine to settle in his lungs and steal the very wind from them.

Rouxls pushed the keyboard away to bury his face in his hands again. The cheap desk's surface frosted over where his elbows rested upon it. He felt so helpless. He felt so... lost.

He felt frozen in place.

"Lesser Dad!!" piped up a small, high voice, spiking above the low hum of the AC unit that still blew cool air into the lonely, dark office space.

"Lancer?"

Rouxls swiveled around to see the young paint-covered boy standing there in the hallway before the his office. Standing (and ignoring the sound of shattering ice), Rouxls approached the small heir.

"Whatte be'est thee doing here?" queried Rouxls, "'Tis thy bedtime, no?"

"Well yeah, but I wanted to show you a project I just finished!" Lancer grinned mischievously as he grabbed Rouxls's chilly hand suddenly, pulling him along. Rouxls was dumbfounded, jogging lightly to keep up with the energetic lad's pace.

"Lancer, I reallie Must keepeth to mine work--"

"It'll take just a second, Lesser Dad! I promise," Lancer said as he directed a big grin towards the fuddy-duddy assistant. Rouxls only sighed as he pushed up his glasses further on his face. The resulting glare in the lenses only served to amplify Rouxls's severe features.

"Fine. Doux maketh it quicke, though."

And so Lancer picked up the pace. Through dimly lit corridors with only screens displaying all manner of corporate platitudes to light their way and across desolate polished tile one could be sure was cleaned hours ago, Rouxls found himself outside in the muggy, uncomfortable heat of the city air, being led over by hand to the factory which produced that-- smoke. The smoke that came from the mouth of Hell.

Sign of the devil; city on fire...

Rouxls was stirred from his thoughts when he noticed that Lancer had finally let go of his hand to run ahead. Jogging after the boy, Rouxls felt the air leave his lungs again as he looked up at the pristine shapes of still-wet color staining the dingy factory building. It was... graffiti. And it was impossible to ignore. Bright and colorful like a snake, its message was of warning, telling those that viewed it to stay far away. To not eat the candy the artist's own father produced.

"Do you like it? You told me not to eat the candy 'cause it wasn't safe so I thought I should tell everyone else! They should get to be safe from the bad candy, too!" Lancer chirped, bouncing on his heels. The hooded boy's peppy demeanor changed though, once he saw the horror on Rouxls's face.

"L... Lancer," Rouxls breathed weakly as he approached the factory wall, placing a hand beside the grafitti, onto the grime-ridden wall. "Thou- ...Y-you can't- do this... This isn't safe for you, either."

"Wh- But... Lesser Dad, it's just paint!!" Lancer insisted, stepping towards his father's assistant. "And I made sure no one could see me! Plus, I'm not gonna get in that much trouble, Greater Dad'll--"

"Lancer... Please..."

Lancer felt his words die in his throat at the fear in Rouxls's voice. Showing genuine emotion, let alone negative emotion, wasn't quite something Lancer was used to seeing from Rouxls.

"I want you... to be safe from harm. But I- I can't protect you from everything..." Rouxls relented quietly. He turned then, new creases in his brow forming as he met Lancer's shocked gaze. "Especially not with- with big, attention-grabbing spectacles like this, Lancer! Do you know what would happen to you if your father knew--"

"I just... wanted to help..."

Looking on at the downcast young boy, Rouxls sighed, beside himself. He crossed the distance between him and Lancer, bending down to envelop Lancer in a tight hug. Lancer hugged back tight, immediately seeking out the comfort of hiding his face in Rouxls's shoulder as he'd done so many times before.

"I know," Rouxls murmured as he pressed his cheek against Lancer's head. "I know you only wanted to help... But you have to help yourself, too... You have to- look out for yourself, too... There's only so much trouble I can keep you out of..."

"It's not fair..." Lancer lamented, tears coming to his eyes and wetting his Lesser Dad's blazer. "Other people should know the candy's not okay to eat... I-it's bad- not telling them, I mean..."

Rouxls forced his eyes shut as if it could keep his own sea of tears at bay, too. He only hugged Lancer closer, then. "...I know... I... I know..." he yielded. Rouxls pressed a feather-light kiss to his son's head, to comfort the lad. Pulling back just a mite, Rouxls moved to wipe away the tears from Lancer's furry cheeks. "But we can do other things to help... In the meantime..."

Lancer sniffed again, nodding. "Okay..." he sighed.

"Okay. Thank you for understanding, Lancer..." Picking the lad up, Rouxls turned back and carried Lancer in the direction of Halberd Inc.'s main offices. Unbeknownst to the high-level assistant, however, the boy whose head laid so adorably against his shoulder only brainstormed of further, subtler ways to get the message out. To save others from eating the candy. Just as his Lesser Dad saved him.

[parallelord]

@kyrieleisen asked:

Since Berserker was summoned, Kirei had been careful not to expose the extent of his burns, the giant, angry red blemish (though he never quite felt that way about it) that covered the entire right-hand side of his body, stopping just short of his chin — though the fire had not left his face unscathed, selfishly having taken his right eye who's empty socket he conceals with a leather eye patch. However, the scarring had never gotten in the way of his daily pursuits; his life was no less enjoyable now than it was then (if it had ever been enjoyable) and he attended great lengths to preserve his body, its strength, in the face of his travesty.

As for alter though, well, he was up especially early — Kirei had recently returned from his morning jog and was in the process of wiping his body down when his servant made his presence known in the doorway. "Can I be of assistance to you Berserker?" He quirks a brow, a strain of annoyance in his tone.

             Of course Berserker’s eyes flick down to look over his master in idle curiosity, but there’s no spark of recognition when he sees the scarring until his eyes stop at the star shaped mark on the left side of Kirei’s chest.  He might not be the most observant servant, but even then, he still knows what a healed up stab wound looks like pretty well.  Probably from a spearhead.  Were it an inch or two downwards Berserker wouldn’t have a master in the first place.

             “You just refuse to die, huh, Master?” Despite his impish tone, he can’t help but be impressed.  Perhaps both being cockroaches is what provided their affinity in the first place, he thinks.  Must’ve been way harder healing all this the old fashioned way.  ...What was it he walked in here to ask about?  His tail gently twitches back and forth on the floor as he looks down, trying to get his train of thought back.

[etheshadowlord]

Red Door Yellow Door.

So I want to start by saying I have never and probably will never have a chance to actually play this game however I see things about it and I feel like a lot of people are terrified of their own minds like it's a monster.

I can see why someone might think that. There are a lot of people on here who would agree because they suffer from any number of mental illnesses so they have to deal with a brain that's not working properly.

Or they're neurodivergent like I am so it's not so much it's not working right but it's working weird.

However, I'm going to argue that even if your brain is a complete utter garbage fire it's not your enemy. It will not be your enemy unless you FULLY believe it is.

So what is Red Door Yellow Door? It's a game where you are put into a trance and you go on a happy little adventure in your own brain with a friend acting as a guide. It's a game in the same section of spooky as like One person hide and seek. Or The Three Kings.

Except the ghosts are just parts of you now instead of actual ghosts or demons.

So the first thing I want to say is there is a lot of superstition around this game. Three things you're supposed to avoid, shadowy men in black suits, old people, and clocks. You're also told to just avoid interacting with most entities you find in your mind.

Okay, I can understand that you don't want to buy an imaginary Rolex from the cockroach man for astral bucks. You can't even take the psychic Rolex with you into the real world so yeah probably best to skip him but that does leave a few things.

The clocks, the old people, and the shadow man.

I have to ask why you're supposed to avoid these things and the answer usually boils down to poppycock of either getting stuck in the trance or dying in real life because you died in the trance.

WHAT ABSOLUTE BALDERDASH!

Many people still believe that if you die in a dream you'll die in real life. I can thoroughly attest that it's not true from personal experience. But what about getting stuck in a trance. Kinda possible but you want to know what you do, let them sleep. No seriously, you just let them take a nap. They will wake up feeling well-rested. The other way is what I call the "FUCK THIS SHIT I'M OUT" solution where you break out of the trance by remembering you're in a trance-induced dream and just....abort it like you do a nightmare. It is the dopest fucking skill I've ever learned from terrible dreams.

So what about the shadow man? Well if you want my honest hypothesis. Most likely they are your shadow self. Not as much as a Jung variety as most likely the shadow created by your actions that run...counter to your perception of self. If you run into them. Obviously, you may fear or may want to avoid interacting with them because you are not ready to accept this part of yourself. It is a bitter pill to swallow.

The only real danger of the game I can think of for anyone is running into the memories of your trauma. Either reliving the events or finding things you tried to lock away.

But I'm just an E so who is to say.

[malereader-inserts]

broken crown | xii.

“I’m vocalising this now,” You say to your boyfriend who looked unphased to the fact that you will exclaim about how dangerous something is - years of hearing you blabber on about it, “I just hope we don’t die.”

Word count: 2,331

<Previous | Next>

You really didn’t know if this was going to work.

You stood here under the invisibility cloak with Harry as you look at Hermione and Ron pose as death eaters to get into Bellatrix’s vault. You and the rest had took off on the first of May, exactly when the potion was ready to be drunk. It had been three weeks since you last saw your dad, and you knew he was even more worried.

However, somehow all of you managed to get into the cart with a goblin under a spell. The cart hurtles through the darkness, ferrying the lot of you down the rickety rails, twisting and turning, sloping ever downward. Harry leans toward Griphook, who commandeers the cart. 

“How long before they come after us?”

“Time will tell,” you hear Griphook answer, but you weren’t satisfied.

Harry’s eyes meet Griphook’s in the flickering darkness, before looking at you, Harry could tell that you weren’t happy with the answer. Then, Ron’s face appears over Harry’s shoulder. 

“What’s that? Up ahead,” Ron points in the distance, directly over the tracks, something shimmers like a curtain of water.

“I should have known,” The goblin sneers, furiously, Griphook starts to throw levers, trying to slow the cart. 

“What is that, Griphook?” You asked as the wheels screeched, throwing off sparks. 

“Griphook! What is that!” Harry shouted this time, hoping the goblin would listen to him however Griphook doesn’t answer, furiously preoccupied with the cart.

Harry turns to Hermione, hoping she has an explanation since there was no point in asking you as you were also asking what it was to Griphool, but she just shakes her head, staring up ahead as Griphook slumps back, powerless, watching in grim resignation as the cart careens wildly down the rail and pierces the shimmering curtain. Instantly, water engulfs you and the rest with ferocious power.

The seats beneath them collapse, flipping downward and you drop in a cascade of roaring water toward the ground rushing up 30 feet below.  You held your hand out, trying to focus whilst dropping down but slowly, one by one you splash down relatively gently and relatively unscathed. As the water drains away, you all peer upward, watching as alarms blare out, the cart rattles back the way it came.

“Well done,” Both Harry and Hermione complimented.

You tilted your head, “Hermione... you look like... you?”

Griphook nods to the waterfall, “The Thief’s Downfall. Washes away all enchantments. Can be deadly.”

Ron scoffs, “You don’t say,” watching as the cart’s alarms grow faint, “Just out of interest... is there any other way out of here?” 

“No.” Griphook had replied as you stare at him grimly, never a fan of goblins you were.

“What the devil are you all doing down here!” You jumped at the new voice as everyone turn, seeing a soaking Bogrod, cleansed of the Imperius curse, backing away in angry confusion. 

“We need him!” Griphook sneers as the other goblin points fingers at him.

“Is this your doing, Griphook? You have no rights here anymore. When you gave up your keys, you--”

Hermione and Harry raise their wands as you stand by idle, watching the little thing furiously rant away. As one of them was about to cast the spell they were too late. It was Ron, who lifted his wand quickest and cast the spell. 

“Imperio!” Bogrod blinks, resumes his mild demeanour. Harry and Hermione turn, see Ron, wand outstretched. Griphook steps past, pushes Bogrod on.

“Well done.”

All of you watch the goblins go, as you exchange a glance with each other. Just then a moan is heard, deep and unsettling, coming from down the tunnel. Ron cocks his ear in disbelief

“No. It’s not possible...” Just outside Lestrange Vault, Ron appears first, trailed by Harry, you and Hermione, and finds Bogrod standing placidly by himself. As Harry and Hermione hang back, Ron moves forward slowly, squinting. 

Something massive shifts heavily, chains clinking. They all look a giant dragon tethered to the ground, bars access to a deep vault. Its scales are pale and flaky, its eyes milky.

“That’s a Welsh Green,” You identified with a grim look

“It looks like it’s been down here forever,” Hermione follows up. 

The hinges squeal sharply and you all jump, watching Griphook in the shadows take something from a wooden box on the wall. An odd-looking metal instrument. As he steps into the light, he tosses it to Hermione. She glances from it to Griphook, sees him eyeing her with a strange intensity. 

“Go on,” He encourages as she looks unsure. 

Then gives it a shake. A shrill ringing echoes of the rocky passage, eerie and unpleasant. The dragon rears back instantly, howling in fear, then, as the ringing subsides, settles. Ron nods knowingly. 

“It’s been trained to expect pain when it hears the noise,” Ron explains as  Hermione’s eyes flash to Ron, then to the scars on the dragon’s face and neck.

“That’s barbaric. I...” Hermione looked disgusted, she hands the instrument back, horrified. 

Griphook takes it, unmoved, “We’ll only have a few seconds. In other words... they’ll be no do-overs. Understood?”

Everyone eyes the dragon, nod. 

“Ready, Bogrod?” Griphook calls to the other.

“Hm? Oh. Yes. Of course,” Bogrod holds up his hand, waggles it. Griphook nods, eyes the dragon. 

Its eyes glimmer angrily. Griphook raises the instrument and shakes it. The cacophony is murderous. You, Harry, Ron and Hermione grimaced. The dragon roars hoarsely, then slowly retreats. Bogrod strides forth, blissfully ignoring the dragon’s bobbing head and presses his hand to the vault’s door. It melts. 

Everyone rushes inside. In the ensuing silence, the dragon spits fire just as the vault re-seals itself and all goes dark. You pulled your wand from your boot and held it out 

“Lumos!” 

Everyone’s wandtips bloom, illuminate a huge vault swimming in glittering treasure and eerie artefacts. You hear Ron softly curse at the sight as yu=ou chuckle under your breath 

“Look,” Hermione crosses to what appears to be the Sword of Gryffindor, “No wonder Bellatrix thought it was real.”

Harry pays no attention, having drifted away from the others, playing his wandlight over the glittering walls. The others notice and go silent, watching. Griphook eyes Harry with particular curiosity. 

Finally, Ron speaks, “Is it here, Harry? Can you feel anything?”

Harry doesn’t respond, his wandlight continuing to travel over the small treasures above. As Hermione watched, transfixed, her hand dangles nary a quarter inch from the lip of a silver bowl perched on the edge of the table beside her. The skin of Hermione’s wrist brushes the lip of the bowl. 

Harry stares at the ancient cup above, glimmering dully in the light of his wand when Hermione yelps. As the others turn, they see her retract her hand, as if stung, sending the bowl tumbling to the floor. She holds up her wrist -- displays a red welt 

“It’s hot!” 

All eyes turn to the bowl, wobbling madly on the floor, when it splits apart and begins to multiply. 

“They’ve added Gemino and Flagrante Curses!” Griphook explains loudly, “Everything you touch will burn and multiply!”

The multiplying bowls skitter across the floor and flip into the air. As one caroms off Ron’s shoe, it bursts into twenty more. 

“Ron, your foot!” You pointed out to him as he tries to move it away. 

It’s smoking as Ron stamps the ground. Harry pivots, tipping a towering stack of galleons to the floor where they multiply like cockroaches. Instantly, the room is a riot of multiplying white-hot metal.

“We’ll be crushed! Hurry!” Griphook shouts with great urgency.

Harry points his wand once again at the small cup near the ceiling, “That’s it. Up there.” 

“How’re we going to reach it?” Hermione asked as Harry looks at her.

“Give me the sword! The real one.”

Hermione reaches into her beaded bag, tosses it to Harry, who catches it by the hilt. Griphook’s eyes glitter greedily at the sight of it, you hadn’t missed the glance and you detested the look. Instantly, Harry begins to scale the multiplying mountain of objects, climbing towards the cup, ignoring the look of Griphook, you watch your boyfriend worriedly.

As the sizzling surface shifts beneath his feet, he moves upward, beads of sweat trailing over his forehead. Suddenly, halfway up, he slips and instinctively to keep from falling, he reaches out and plants the flesh of his palm against the shifting slope. 

Instantly, objects explode forth, multiplying crazily and cascading down onto you, Ron, Hermione and Griphook in a small avalanche.

“Keep going!” You shouted, a small tone of panic within your voice.

Harry climbs faster the sound deafening, objects clanging off one another until, finally, he stops just shy of the ceiling. Reaching out, he extends his arm further, then further still, and slips the sword’s tip through the cup’s handle. As it shimmies down the blade, a scream rises. Harry looks down, sees a terrified Bogrod pinned against the door, watching as Griphook sinks beneath the rising tide. Ron dashes forward, grabs Griphook’s fingers as he’s about to go under and yanks the blistered Goblin free.

“Harry! Behind you!” Hermione screeches in a hurry.

Harry turns and sees the swelling mountain has reached the ceiling and with nowhere else to go, it was about to spill itself down upon him. Turning back  Harry leaps. He plummets, feet first, soaring through the air, then crashes down on the swelling treasure. The sword and cup fly free.

“The cup!” Ron exclaimed.

Harry dives into the scalding treasure, hand outstretched, and catches it. Instantly, dozens of Hufflepuff Cups burst from his fist, but he holds tight to the original, grimacing in pain. 

“In here!” Hermione holds her beaded bag before Harry and he jams it inside. 

As they turn for the door, they stop. Griphook holds the sword, the real sword, in his hands, turning the blade in the light. 

“We have a deal, Griphook,” Harry spoke as Griphook looks up. A kind of madness burns in his eyes. 

The Goblin sneered, “I said I’d get you in. I never said anything about getting you out.” Pivoting swiftly, he slams Bogrod’s hand to the door and as it melts.

You, Harry, Ron and Hermione ride an avalanche of silver and gold into the outer chamber.  As you four find your feet, the dragon roars and spits fire, illuminating the tunnel. Shadows approach, stretching over the tunnel walls, it was the Gringotts goblins and guards. 

Harry screamed, “Griphook! Griphook!” 

But, Griphook merely looks back, grins madly and, sword in hand, rushes to join the approaching throng, “Thieves! Help! Thieves!”

“Foul little git. Least we’ve got Bogrod,” Ron tried to be positive however the dragon spits again, reducing Bogrod to dust, “That’s unfortunate.”

“You had to speak so soon?” You asked sarcastically as Ron gives you strained smile.

‘Stupefy!’ Harry bellowed.

Ron, you and Hermione joined in: jets of red light flew into the crowd of goblins and some toppled over, but others advanced, and Harry saw several wizard guards running around the corner. 

The tethered dragon let out a roar, and a gush of flame flew over the goblins: the wizards fled, doubled-up, back the way they had come, and inspiration, or madness, came to Harry. Pointing his wand at the thick cuffs chaining the beast to the floor he yelled, ‘Relashio!’ The cuffs broke open with loud bangs. 

“This way!” Harry yelled, and still shooting Stunning Spells at the advancing goblins he sprinted towards the blind dragon. 

“Harry – Harry – what are you doing?” cried Hermione.

“Get up, climb up, come on –”

The dragon had not realised that it was free: Harry’s foot found the crook of its hind leg and he pulled himself up on to its back. The scales were hard as steel: it did not even seem to feel him. He stretched out an arm; Hermione hoisted herself up; Ron climbed on behind them, and then lastly you with a second later the dragon became aware that it was untethered.

“This is one mad idea, Harry,” You exclaimed at him, throwing another spell towards the guards below as he smiles devilishly handsome towards you as you scoffed, “This is not the time for charms, Harry!”

You all huddle together as everyone starts to prepare to return to Hogsmeade, you stood in front of the three of them, pointing your wand as it lets out hot arm - drying themselves from the cold water in the lake. You had seemed to dry off quicker than them. Hermione gets changed, placing a spell upon the blanket to stop you, three boys, from looking.

You get changed, not wanting to get sick from the wet clothes. You had lost your bag when you were getting chased by the snatchers months ago, but luckily, Hermione had transferred your important books in her bag. You were too oblivious to think that carrying a backpack was survive the whole journey. 

May was awfully warmer than usual as you tied your boots up again and shoving your wand in them. Harry turned to look at Ron who was just sporting a think jacket, Hermione had a denim jacket as well as a zip-up hoodie underneath. He turns to look at you, sporting a teal slightly bigger sweatshirt tucked into your jeans in the front. He could see a white short turtleneck underneath to give you some warmth. 

“Hogwarts then,” You hummed to Harry, who nods meekly, “I wonder what it’s like under Snape’s rule.”

“Probably bloody horrible,” Ron exclaims as Hermione fixes his hair, you smile to yourself as Hermione looked at you with eyes telling you to shut up.

“I’m vocalising this now,” You say to your boyfriend who looked unphased to the fact that you will exclaim about how dangerous something is - years of hearing you blabber on about it, “I just hope we don’t die.”

Harry sighs, leaning his head against your shoulder, “So do I.”

Tagged

@carefulthatsharassment-sir​​ @lanlanlan020202​ @hanniejji​ @dumbssbtch​ @lea-the-foxe​ @stan-joonies​ @littertortilla @purpleshusbandd​ @svnfiwer

[ambivalentmarvel]

so the story behind this is that @sreppub​ arrived in my dms saying “sitcom starring two uppity, former rich guys and a regular poor college kid who follow up an online ad and become roommates” and i said something along the lines of “your MIND” and here we are. she does the art, i do the fic, and we both yell a lot along the way. read it on here or ao3 and enjoy!!

The Sitcom Supreme

If Peter or Stephen were around to hear Tony tell the story of how they all ended up rooming together, they would have plenty of objections, to which he would call them both dirty liars, to which they would gang up on him because they’re terrible and like that, to which he would probably throw up his hands in exasperation and/or make the mistake of engaging them in a debate, to which they would grin like wolves because, once again, they’re terrible and like that, but Tony’s the asshole who put up the Craigslist ad, so he gets to start—because he’s terrible and like that.

It’s a common trait amongst the three of them, what can he say?

The beginning of the story does not involve either of the other two, however. It begins with Rhodey, who is only occasionally terrible and like that. Rhodey has been Tony’s best friend since the tender age of fifteen. Considering Tony at age fifteen was a greasy little douche bag with too much money and a whole bunch of daddy issues that were somehow more obvious then than they are in the present, this is an impressive feat. 

Where things start, Rhodey and Tony are roommates at MIT, which is Howard’s school of choice to shove his problem child onto. Tony is supposed to get a single dorm room, but there’s a cockroach problem in that building. Administration has to get creative, which is how Rhodey, fresh out of boot for the fall semester, gets saddled with approximately one hundred and fifty pounds of neglected teenage boy who has only kind of gone through puberty.

The first words out of Tony’s mouth are blunt: “Any chance you have plans to drop out?”

And Rhodey looks at him with a raised brow, efficiently unpacked and totally unimpressed with the enormous stack of Tony’s things wavering in the doorway. “You have any plans to quit being annoying?” he retorts, which set the tone for their entire relationship.

Tony loves him to pieces. 

He’s the older brother he never knew he needed, yanking him by his collar from frat parties on the weekends and to his house for holidays because getting swamped by Rhodey’s six younger siblings is infinitely better than having to wear a suit and tie for Christmas dinner with six CEOs and maybe some senators, depending on the year. In return, Tony sees him through every finals week of his collegiate career, during which Rhodey gets so nervous he usually pukes at least daily and pulls so many all-nighters Tony memorizes the exact shade of red his eyes are at the end.

So, it’s safe to say they get along well. They get along so well, as a matter of fact, that when they stare at each other after their graduation ceremony for their Masters—a two-year process for both of them, and Rhodey receives two degrees to Tony’s four—surrounded by Rhodey’s family and Jarvis, Tony’s lips curl in a smirk Rhodey knows spells the best kind of trouble. “What do you say we keep the roommate streak alive, yeah? Howard’s building an office in New York, and I’m thinking of doing a doctorate at NYU.”

Rhodey’s brows raise, but he’s grinning, so Tony already knows his answer. “Depends. Are you still gonna’ snore?”

“Are you still gonna’ have a stick up your a—”

Mama Rhodes shoots Tony a look from where she’s trying to corral the rest of her kids.

“—butt?” he finishes with a sheepish glance her way.

Rhodey does not even remotely have a stick up his ass, but of the two of them, he features in tabloids far, far less, which Tony somehow uses to his advantage.

“You know it,” Rhodey replies, and so they find a fancy penthouse that Tony mostly pays for, with the excuse of Rhodey satisfying his part of rent via generally covering Tony’s ass to the best of his ability. And he has a lot of ability, honed from years upon years of Tony self-destructing at the drop of a hat, but there’s only so much he can do, especially as his military career just keeps flying higher and Howard just keeps pushing Tony harder.

A few sex tapes, especially wild benders, and crashed cars later, when Howard cuts Tony off and tells him, quote, “I won’t speak to you until you learn to do something other than disappoint me”, Rhodey very gracefully still shacks up with him in their considerably less fancy apartment.

This is all important to know, contrary to what someone whose name may or may not rhyme with Tephen Trange might say about Tony’s “long-winded” and “overly-complicated” storytelling tendencies because it explains exactly why Rhodey is a traitor.

Is Carol a very cool lady who could kick Tony’s ass? Yes. Is she sickeningly cute with Rhodey and not just because a smile from her makes him melt into a pile of fucking goo on the floor? Also yes. Does it probably make more sense for Tony to find roommates who will actually be around to monitor his—allegedly—poor mental health and self-care habits? Okay, fine, yes, but the bottom line is, Rhodey is moving in with Carol and abandoning Tony, and nobody said he had to like it.

(This is not strictly true, what with the approximately ten conversations Rhodey and he have had about his happiness and how, if Tony needs him, all he has to do is say the word and he’ll be back, but Tony has always had a flair for the dramatic.)

The whole idea is that Tony will find someone gone less than Rhodey with all his military business to enjoy having around the apartment. It’s technically a three-bedroom, but he and Rhodey use the extra one for storage. Fortunately or unfortunately, that storage area has become a lot of junk they go through before Rhodey makes his grand exit, and Tony suddenly has the option of having two roommates.

The ad is a low point, he can admit that, but there is a flaw in what Tony loudly calls Rhodey’s master plan to leave him alone to wallow in misery: Tony doesn’t exactly have a lot of friends, nevermind people who he’d want to live with.

“Rhodey. Honeybear. Platypus.”

“The nicknames are old, and you need to stop using them around Carol. She called me Platypus last night during sex, and it ruined the whole mood.”

“You poor thing.”

“She thought it was hilarious.”

If Tony has to lose Rhodey to anybody, by God, Carol is his first choice by a long shot.

“Anyway, as I was saying, Sourpatch—”

“I hate you.”

“—how am I supposed to find someone else to live with?”

Tony is thirty-two and regularly speaks out with all of four people: Pepper, Rhodey, Carol, and Happy. Unfortunately, Happy works in Stark Industries’ California branch and has stated rather firmly that he’s not interested in transferring to the city, Pepper wouldn’t live with another person for love or money, and the other two are spoken for.

It’s a terrible situation to be in, honestly.

“Craigslist,” Rhodey deadpans, fighting with some packing tape.

Tony feels his heart stop beating in real time from his place folding some of Rhodey’s clothes into a plastic tub. His head snaps up, and his jaw drops, absolutely affronted. “You would suggest that I, even disowned and stripped of my former glory—” Tony has several million dollars in the stock market, but that’s neither here nor there and isn’t much compared to the fact that he was supposed to be a billionaire. “—would stoop to looking for live-in friends on Craigslist?”

Rhodey looks up to meet his eyes, unfazed. He’s used to Tony’s antics after nearly two decades of friendship. “Well, I’m not moving out until you have at least one person guaranteed to take my place, so unless you have any better ideas, yeah.” He shrugs—just shrugs, as if he isn’t advising Tony to scrape the bottom of the fucking barrel in terms of reliable people to regularly fall asleep around.

It’s insulting.

“I’m not putting out an ad for a roommate on Craigslist,” he protests, shoving the next horribly colored polo into the tub with disdain.

That night, he tears up thinking about stopping Rhodey from being happy with Carol, and the post is up by the time Rhodey gets up—stupidly early, like normal—for his morning run. Along with his contact information and a few blurry pictures of the place, it includes a blurb about the circumstances.

Best friend moving out. Need a roommate or I will die of Sadness. His girlfriend is cool but hewas mind first. Carol, I am watching you. Two rooms open for business. But not sketchy business. You can just lve there. Current resident (me) is cool and very charming. I am a man. No dumb fuck offers. Thanks.

It could use some work, but Tony’s never been great with words, even less so when he’s crying to rock ballads at two in the morning. He edits it when he wakes up, and by noon that day, it’s looking better.

At seven o’clock that evening, he receives one of two messages that actually work out.

Enter the first offender: Peter Parker.

Peter, Tony will learn, is nineteen, attending NYU—like Tony did, which is a sign, really—for a double major in biochemistry and physics, and has the worst luck of anyone Tony’s ever met.

Rhodey’s moving out in a week—he’s been putting off finding a roommate for a while, alright—and Peter has to legally be out of his dorm in three days. That is quite the predicament, and Tony, by nature, is a curious creature. He is not, however, one for beating around the bush. That results in a text that reads exactly this.

Tony: What the hell did you do?

He could hack through the university files, but explanations are always more fun with a personal touch that’s lacking in, say, an incident report. Tony watches a bubble with three blinking dots for a long, long time, and the reply is surprisingly sparse—sparse enough, in fact, for Tony to have more questions than answers when he receives it.

Unknown Sender: theres been a few things but the kicker was the fire

Tony: The fire?

Unknown Sender: i tried to make popcorn and the microwave blew up

Now that is some problematic behavior Tony can get behind. He amends the kid’s previously non-existent contact information.

Tony: How can they kick you out for that? That’s not your fault.

Roommate (?) Peter: it blacked out the power on the entire first floor

Tony: And?

Roommate (?) Peter: last month i got the blame for contaminating half the campus water supply

Roommate (?) Peter: so i was already on thin ice

Tony: Accidentally?

Roommate (?) Peter: idk sometimes things just happen to me

Tony doesn’t know how to respond to that. If Rhodey knew, he’d never let him live it down. He can hear his annoying laugh in his ears like a premonition—“Hah—Tony, speechless?”—but then there are the dots again and a simple message to follow the last, a touch pathetic.

Roommate (?) Peter: please let me move in

Tony likes him.

Peter shows up on the stairs of the complex thirty-six hours after Tony posted the ad with a backpack and a meager total of six beat-to-shit boxes. The backpack holds nearly all of his school supplies, which makes Tony, in retrospect, genuinely fearful for the integrity of his spine, and the contents of the boxes are sorted, as Tony will learn, into three categories that each have two boxes in them. The categories are fairly simple—clothing, necessities, and whatever other shit he could fit from his dorm—and leave Peter with thrilling possessions such as an entire collection of truly atrocious shirts with science puns on them, a gallon of hand soap, and any food he had in his cupboards.

Thankfully, Rhodey is out furniture shopping with Carol when Tony goes out to meet him, which solves the problem of Rhodey going into overbearing caretaker mode at the sight of a beanpole of a kid failing to manage their life successfully. As someone who has been made many a you-haven’t-eaten-a-meal-in-two-days-and-I’m-secretly-a-panicking-mother-hen casserole, Tony counts his blessings.

Tony waves. “Peter?” he asks, reluctantly changed out of his pajamas for the day.

The kid nods. “That’s me. And you’re Tony?”

“Guilty as charged. Want a hand with those boxes?” he asks, watching Peter lift three at a time.

“No, I got it,” he insists, and then the box on top slides out of his grip and onto the sidewalk.

Peter stares at it for a second before he lets out a long-suffering sigh.

“Maybe I could use some help,” he admits, and with much struggle, the two of them, each with three boxes, waddle inside. There is a moment and only one moment where Tony thinks that it might be nice to have some extra assistance, but with another thought of the things Rhodey would do at the sight of a woefully inept college kid, Tony decides it’s for the best.

Tony leads the operation, considering he has the key and also knows explicitly where they’re going, and he would have to say his biggest complaint about the ordeal is that Sam, who lives in the apartment below Tony and Rhodey with Steve and Bucky, happens to open his door as they walk by.

Being an asshole, he has something to say about it. “Need some help, shellhead?” he crows.

Tony wishes he had a free hand to flip him off.

“Watch your back, Wilson,” he growls in return, a continuation of the beef the five of them have maintained since they met approximately seven years ago, when they all moved in on the same day and kept knocking into each other’s shit in the halls.

When they reach the top of the next flight of stairs and Tony starts to fumble with the key, Peter asks about it. “So—uh—who was that?”

“That was Sam. Part of the deal with moving in is that you harass him and the other two idiots who live with him. He also responds to jackass, douchecanoe, or birdbrain.”

“Birdbrain?”

“It’s an old joke. He had a rather—” Tony grunts, forced to set down his load to unlock the door, “—spectacular run-in with some pigeons a few years ago.”

“Oh.”

“They shat on him. A lot.”

“Oh.”

“It’s a good nickname,” Tony assures him, throwing open the door with his arms flung wide for dramatic flair. “Welcome to Casa Stark. I mean, I guess it’s Casa Stark-Parker now, but if we’re hyphenating, my name goes first because I lived here first.” He holds up a finger as if to stall Peter, who has yet to speak from where his mouth is decidedly blocked by the aforementioned three boxes he is carrying. “And I know what you’re going to say—that Parker-Stark works better because it’s alphabetical—but that is where you are wrong because letters have no place in this house. Numbers are much preferred, and we play by seniority here, anyway.”

He gives Peter a meaningful look that he cannot see because, once again, boxes.

“More on that, by the way—”

“Hey, Tony?” 

He cuts him off which is, objectively, rude, but Tony rarely gets along with people who aren’t a little curt with him from time to time. This is a positive sign, really, so he allows it.

“Yeah?” 

“This can be Casa Stark-Parker, but can we get to somewhere I can set these down? My arms are, like, going to give out on me.”

Not even ten minutes in, and he’s already learned the art of bargaining. Tony’s proud, and he ushers him inside without any more monologues and a grin stretched across his face.

Peter, by virtue of moving in before Rhodey is out, ends up with the room that is no longer being used for storage. Tony has several questions for him, beginning with the fact that, despite the six packets of instant noodles he bothered to bring, he does not appear to have a mattress. Or a desk. Or a dresser. Or anything that’s supposed to go in a room.

His solutions for Tony’s concerns are as follows.

In place of a bed, he has two blankets, one to put on the floor and one to cover himself with. He was planning on sitting on the floor to do schoolwork instead of using a desk. And finally, he was going to leave his clothes in the boxes.

This is all relayed to Tony with an earnest gleam in his eyes and a smile.

Tony blinks in disbelief. Then, very eloquently, he says, “Kid, that is the saddest shit I have ever heard. Aren’t your parents helping you with the move to an apartment?”

The kid shifts from foot to foot, shoving his hands in his pockets and glancing to the side.

Tony’s eyes narrow. As someone who is extremely well-versed in avoidance tactics, he feels very confident in saying that is definitely a fucking avoidance tactic.

“About that,” he begins, “first of all, I’m an orphan.” Jesus Christ. “Second of all, my aunt doesn’t exactly—uh—know I got kicked out of the dorms.”

That is all interesting information, to say the least, but luckily, Tony thrives under pressure.

“Alright. I can respect that.”

It’s not like he never hid anything from his parents. Evading his aunt is Peter’s problem, not Tony’s. None of this is Tony’s problem, really, except then he looks around the room and wonders which of Peter’s boxes are holding his two blankets.

Tony was concerned about Rhodey, but he can’t stop himself.

“But I’m also gonna’ level with you—you’re not sleeping on the ground. You can take the couch.”

The until I get you a proper bed frame and mattress goes unsaid, but sometimes things like that are better as surprises. It’ll be a fun housewarming gift, Tony thinks, and by the time the shipment from IKEA arrives containing both of those things and the aforementioned missing dresser and desk, there will be a third roommate to help put it all together, not that either of them know it yet.

That night, Rhodey and Carol show up with enough ingredients for lasagna to serve four, and Tony delights in showing off Peter as they cook because now he has a “super cool roommate too! Take that, Platypus.”

Rhodey glances to Peter. “If you’re being held hostage, blink twice.”

“Hey!” Tony protests. He is a perfectly lovable roommate, thank you very much, and he’s so offended, he’s not even going to let Rhodey know about his mission to furnish Peter’s room.

God bless her, Carol just laughs.

The four of them get along with surprising ease, considering Peter’s only been around for a few hours. Peter even tries to help with the lasagna, but Tony has a near-photographic memory and has not remotely forgotten the popcorn incident, however vaguely it was described.

“You just sit there and be a nicer person than Rhodey,” he urges him, and Peter nods, hiding his grin behind his hand at the argument that starts.

Once everyone is done, he and Rhodey get suckered into dish duty while Carol spirits Peter off to the living room, claiming she has to warn him about what he’s getting into. Tony doesn’t care enough to complain, and when her back is turned, he splashes a plate of suds onto Rhodey’s front. 

Rather than rise to the bait, however, he raises his brows, slipping into what Tony affectionately calls his big-brother-giving-a-stern-talking-to mode. “You have to be a good example for him, Tones.”

Tony blinks. “I’m sorry, did you just say—”

“I’m serious!” They keep their voices mostly down, but Rhodey’s rises a bit with the declaration.

“He’s nineteen—an adult, in case you forgot. He signed the lease all on his own and everything,” he hisses back incredulously.

He thought he dodged the bullet by not disclosing just how underprepared Peter is to live in an apartment, but Rhodey’s head dips. Tony braces himself for the part of his big-brother-giving-a-stern-talking-to mode where he tells Tony he’s making a bullshit excuse and needs to get it together. “Don’t give me that. He’s a baby adult at best, and you know it.”

Yep, there it is.

“That’s still an adult!”

It is! Tony was on his own way earlier than nineteen. This is not a big deal, no matter how outlandish Peter’s circumstances are for moving out of NYU’s dorms.

“Watch his back.”

Tony scoffs. “It’s not like I was going to feed him to the wolves. I’m barely thirty—I’m not his dad.”

“Tony.”

Ah, the final, crushing blow of this version of Rhodey: his name—but with emphasis.

Tony sighs. “Fine,” he acquiesces. “I solemnly swear I will not let him get up to no good.”

A beat. Rhodey squints at him, slowly lowering the plate he’s holding into the sink. “You told me you refused to read Harry Potter.”

Shit.

Back when the books were first coming out, Rhodey was insufferably obsessed with them, and Tony loves him, but emotionally, he couldn’t handle having Rhodey think he was willing to discuss anything having to do with the series for longer than thirty seconds. Thus, he read the books—everyone in the world was doing the same, okay, and he cannot stand being out of the loop—but lied to Rhodey about it.

And now, he’s been made.

Rhodey and he launch into a very spirited discussion that draws Carol and Peter back to the kitchen, and despite the vein throbbing dangerously in Rhodey’s forehead, the promise has been made.

The day after Rhodey moves out, he and Peter manage to flood the bathroom.

In Tony’s defense, he only promised to look out for Peter. He said nothing about curbing his own dumbass tendencies, and it’s not like Bucky’s bedroom is all that damaged by the leak that Tony fixes before it’s really even a problem.

He and Peter settle into a nice sense of camaraderie, and Tony, content with his situation, forgets to take down his Craiglist ad that, logically speaking, someone would have to dig to find at this point, over a week after initially posting it.

Then, he receives a text that is as simple as it is effective: Is there still an available room in the apartment?

Enter the second offender: Stephen Strange.

Ahem, Doctor Stephen Strange, technically, but Tony has six PhDs. Nobody sees him going around making people call him Doctor Stark, and that’s because it makes him sound pretentious and stuffy, both things Tony prides himself on not being. However, Tony likes to push buttons, and very little gets Stephen worked up as fast as someone ignoring his credentials.

It’s a fun set-up, really, but annoying the piss out of Stephen is something that comes a little later—Tony’s not there yet in the story.

He humors the text, and after getting a read on things, he bursts into the living room, startling Peter nearly off the couch. He’s been doing his homework there and on the coffee table in front of it because the Swedish have many things but fast shipping is, apparently, not one of them, not that Peter knows there’s anything to be waiting on, but he’s getting off-topic.

Peter lets out a short yelp and presses a hand over his heart, both things that Tony ignores.

“We have a situation,” he announces.

“I swear I didn’t do it,” Peter defends pleadingly.

Tony is trying to teach him that messing things up is expected and, especially in particularly magnificent cases, admired in Casa Stark-Parker, but it’s a work in progress.

“I know you didn’t—don’t be ridiculous,” he waves his concerns off. “We are talking bigger than setting things on fire by accident. I bring you, my young protege, the proposition of—” A pause for dramatic effect. “—another roommate.”

“Ooh,” Peter says appropriately, setting his textbook down to examine the texts Tony brandishes. He begins to scroll, but while he does, Tony figures he can go ahead and fill him in on the essentials. It’s a very juicy situation, after all, and he can’t help himself.

“His name is Stephen Strange. He’s a neurosurgeon, but he got into a pretty bad car wreck that messed up his hands. He’s trying to save money while he goes to physical therapy—he apparently has a chance of recovery, but it’s a ways off—and that includes downsizing on where he lives.”

“I mean, yikes, but that’s an oddly specific backstory.”

“I’m glad you think that too, but I am intrigued. I looked him up, and he’s a real person—has a basically flawless reputation, or at least he did before his accident. Thoughts?”

Please say yes, please say yes, Tony thinks. The chance of a competent human—not including Rhodey, who looks more put together than he really is next to the chaos Tony perpetually dwells in—choosing to live with him is too fascinating to pass up, and he needs Peter to see that too.

Peter shrugs. “I’m down if you are. How old is he?”

Victory!

Satisfaction floods Tony, but he tries to maintain his cool.

“Thirty.”

Peter blows out a long breath, tipping his head back to look at the ceiling. “I didn’t anticipate moving into a nursing home,” he remarks dryly.

What a little shit.

It’s worth noting half the reason Rhodey left so easily is because he said he trusted Peter to keep Tony on his toes. Then again, that Tony likes being snarked at is a large part of why they get along so well despite only knowing each other for a matter of days.

“You’re the worst, Parker. I’m going to feed you to the hooligans downstairs. Steve has a monster appetite, you know.”

Peter hums, picking his textbook back up. “Not if I feed you to them first. And, Tony?”

“What?”

“Only old people say hooligans.”

Tony thinks about that one book, Give a Mouse a Cookie or whatever. Except in his case, it’s Rent a Teenager an Apartment, and Tony doesn’t have to adhere to the literary equivalent of a G-rating.

His response to the dig is creative and colorful, and Peter laughs.

Four days and a brief conversation at a coffee shop later—a formality he and Peter did not do and probably something Tony should’ve thought of as the older adult before giving him the address—Stephen’s team of movers invade the apartment.

The man himself stands like a drill sergeant at the last flights of stairs it takes to get to the apartment, arms crossed, beard wild, conducting activity.

Peter and Tony share their evaluations, peeking their head out from the doorway when it’s unoccupied by movers and Stephen isn’t looking their way. This involves quite a bit of ducking, but they are very careful not to be caught.

(Someone’s whose name may or may not rhyme with Tephen Trange later informs that “they were not at all subtle” and “were, in fact, very embarrassing”, but that’s how things with the three of them generally are, so Tony figures it was a good crash course to how life together goes.)

“He’s kind of scraggly,” Peter whispers, his head under Tony’s because he’s the shorter of the two of them, something Tony delights in refuting Peter’s quips about his age with.

“Kind of? He looks like a hobo.”

It’s true, okay? Facially, at least, the guy is a wreck. He’s not quite to Einstein levels of bad hair day, but he’s getting there.

“Be nice,” Peter chastises him. He’s gentler than Rhodey when he does it, but considering neither of them ever shut the hell up and they have thus bonded very easily over the course of their short relationship, it’s gotten to feel as natural as most of their interactions.

“All I’m saying is that I am happy to retain my place as the most attractive person in the apartment, okay?”

They’re forced to retreat from the entryway as another load comes through, and Peter looks at him disbelievingly. “Dream on,” he replies bluntly.

Tony gasps in offense.

Peter shrugs. “Look, I’m just gonna’ say it—you knew Rhodey before me, and now that I’m here—” he trails off, looking at Tony in faux-sympathy that doesn’t match the mischievous glint in his eyes.

While it is true that Rhodey is a fine specimen of a man—yet another reason Tony can’t, in good conscience, be truly angry Carol mooched him away from the bachelor lifestyle—Tony can’t cede that easily for the sake of his pride, and he scowls. “I am going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

They’re still bickering as the movers finish up and Stephen enters the apartment, dressed in what Tony recognizes as the latest from Armani and Tom Ford.

He may not get invited to fashion week anymore, but he still has taste, alright, even if Rhodey limits him to one designer purchase a month.

(Rhodey isn’t around to see what packages he orders now, Tony thinks but shelves the thought for later.)

Tony and Stephen met over coffee, and all three of them said hi to one another before the moving business officially began. However, there is a little stiffness in the air, make no mistake. It’s not Stephen’s fault, exactly, because he’s just kind of a foreboding guy, but still.

It figures that Peter would break the ice. As Tony’s found and will continue to discover, Peter is just as talkative as him. Granted, that trait usually appears in the form of rambling about something from class, but it’s not surprising that his natural passion for life comes through with someone about to be very, very involved in it. 

“Hi!” he begins. “Are all of the movers gone now?”

Stephen raises an unimpressed brow. “Yes.”

His reply is seriously lacking enthusiasm, but Tony isn’t allowed the opportunity to jump on that as Peter keeps going. 

“Sweet! Okay, so welcome to Casa Stark-Parker.”

Woah, woah, woah—timeout.

Tony frowns, raising a hand in a motion for Peter to stop. “I thought that was my thing?” he interjects.

“Well, it has my name in it, so it gets to be both of our things,” Peter replies, then furrows his brow, looking to Stephen. “Actually, since you’re here now, I guess it’s Casa Stark-Parker-Strange. Order’s based on who got here first, sorry,” he explains with a smile that Tony, now familiar with the fact that Peter has more to him than meets the eye, notes is a touch impish.

Tony is pleased to see, despite his generally wholesome appearance, the kid has at least picked up on the power of staking a claim.

Stephen blinks. His hands, Tony has noticed, don’t stop shaking, not even when he folds his arm across his chest, like a physical barrier between him and Peter’s excitement. “Okay?” he drawls slowly, confusedly.

“Tony’s rules, not mine,” Peter assures him as if he doesn’t just want the satisfaction of having his name not be the last in the line-up.

Tony scoffs. “Oh okay, so now we’re throwing me under the bus?”

“You have to take responsibility for your actions, Tony.”

“Oh, sure thing,” he replies, tone betraying that he does not, in fact, think any responsibility is at all necessary. He looks to Stephen, rolling his eyes. “Can you believe what I have to put up with? And it’s barely been a week.”

Stephen blinks again. “I see it’s a lot,” he says measuredly.

Peter gasps, unaffected. “Oh my God, we should make a sign for it,” he enthuses. “We can put it up on the door, and we’d be so much cooler than Sam and them.”

To say that Peter rose to the challenge of bothering their downstairs neighbors with zeal is something of an understatement. 

Tony is, honestly, a fan of the sign idea, especially if it were to light up, but that is where Stephen cuts in, his hands still trembling as he gestures. “Can we slow down for a moment?” He looks carefully from Tony and Peter and back again, bearing the appearance of a man in the throes of realizing he has made a bad decision. 

Tony knows that look well. It usually shows up when Rhodey agrees to one of Tony’s ideas and doesn’t realize just how badly constructed it is until it’s too late.

“First of all, I am fairly certain my car is parked illegally, and before we get too far, I need to fix it before I get towed. And secondly,” Tony watches Stephen’s lips curl in a self-satisfied, I-totally-think-I’m-better-than-you-even-if-I’m-not-technically-saying-it smile, “I am not here to be part of any Casa. I am waiting for physical therapy to work for me, and then I will be out of your hair. I appreciate being able to live here, but—”

Yeah, Tony’s had enough of that. Personally, he would like to thank Rhodey, who, in a way, begins and ends the story, and truly is the greatest best friend a man could have for teaching him how to properly deal with pompous rich people.

“Nuh-uh, none of that. If you’re living here, you’re a part of Casa Stark-Parker-Strange whether you like it or not.”

Stephen looks downright appalled that someone would dare to interrupt him, which, Tony knows from experience, is exactly the kind of shock rich people need to go through. He splutters for a second before he manages to get out a reply, “That was not in the lease.”

Tony spreads his hands as if to say what can you do? “And you didn’t mention in your texts that you were going to try to be a bump on a log, but here we are.”

Perhaps sensing the mounting animosity in the room or maybe just as excited as Tony to have someone to bother, Peter takes advantage of Stephen’s overwhelmed and bewildered state.

“First day with all three of us!” he shouts. “Picture!”

And before anyone can protest—including Tony, who would prefer to be documented in something other than a Black Sabbath tee and his work pants—Peter leans in with the camera on his phone ready to capture the moment.

In the resulting photo, Tony looks vaguely alarmed, Stephen looks pissed as hell, and Peter wears a grin that stretches across his whole face. The whole thing is blurry, and they eventually get it framed.

It’s a beautiful and fitting start to their time as roommates, and in the humble eyes of the asshole who posted the Craigslist ad, that is how the story of how they came to live together went.

[noteofnaught]

Dante's memory of his mother

Fiddled with what I had written earlier.

The translation was done for me by deepl (translator).

Please let me know if you think it's strange or if there are any mistakes.

The above is purely a personal opinion

Feel free to discuss and exchange.

Dante's memory of his mother

Dante's memory of his mother, or rather that night, seems to have been formally depicted once in DMC5 since DMC1.

So let's start with the DMC1.

In the DMC1 novel, there is a scene depicting Dante recalling the events of his mother's death.

「母さん、母さん……ねぇ、母さん！」

幼子が、地に倒れ伏した母親の身体を揺さぶり続けている。母親の息がすでに絶えていることは、誰の目にも明らかだ。

だが幼子は──すでに自分でもそうとわかっているのだろうが──無

駄な努力を止める気配はない。

「兄さんもいなくなっちゃったんだ！ 母さん！ ねぇ、母さん！」

亡骸からは未だ、温かな血が地面へと広がり続けている。

幼子は半狂乱だった。

We can see in the description that Dante tries to wake his mother up next to her dead body, even though he realises that she is dead but he is still trying to wake her up. This is a reluctance to accept his mother's death, a normal emotion and attitude for a small child to have.

And the second half of his sentence [兄さんもいなくなっちゃったんだ!] It is as if he had searched for his brother, but his tone is one of powerlessness, of helplessness, of feeling negative about the outcome. So here I want to convey not so much that he has searched for his brother to no avail, but a sense of powerlessness about the situation. He tries to wake up his mother in this way.

It's close to one: Mom, wake up. My brother is not here/is gone and I don't know what to do/I'm scared, please get up Come on.

And then in the scene of Neal's death, Dante recalls this as Neal's sacrifice to protect him, just as his mother did that day.

After that he heard the voice of his father's sword, and out of fear and insecurity he was completely drawn to it, thus obeying its words and changing his name until he gained the power to fight against it.

Then, in the battle with Gilvi, when Gilvi stabbed Dante and was covered by the necklace, Dante's internal activity was as follows.

He credits his mother with protecting him (again) as a child.

Where the mother sacrifices herself to save/protect Dante this is consistent with the DMC1 in-game scene. In DMC1 Dante has a similar line after Trish sacrifices herself to save him. This is the diagram from Precious Tears, with Japanese and English, but both Japanese and English convey that Trish sacrificed herself to save him, as did her own (Dante's) mother.

This is in line with the content of the DMC3 comic.

In the DMC3 comic, Dante has a nightmare at the office after his encounter with Vergil, a dream that is not in fully recreated form but like a fragmentary form.

Here the mother has more dialogue than in DMC1, and it is obvious from the comic's footage that there are huge hands behind her that are about to crush her, and Dante reaches towards her as if to retain his mother, who is feeling very scared, while her mother shouts for him to hurry up and hide/hide and not come out no matter what happens. She is then crushed by the huge hand. In the next panel we can see that the demon looks like a bird and says the terrible words "all die". like it is glowing, and on the next page you can also see the huge three foot shadow on the ground, which also looks like the claws of a bird, and the door behind it is the image of burning, while a long shadow is drawn under his feet.

Of course, we know from the comic that Arkham says there was a fire that day, and Vergil's fearful recollection of the house being on fire makes DMC5 even more certain that it was indeed on fire. The glowing eyes, the long, thin shadows and the subsequent bloodstained house in the comic give the impression that something ominous, unsettling and alien is about to happen.

The cartoon after that also shows us Dante waking up with a jolt, his face covered in water, looking at his hand but with only a drop on his end finger, giving the illusion that he has pulled a hook with someone. There is no sweat on his body, however, and of course there are problems of expression in the painting, so it is not painted.

But it is also true that these same fragmentary memories and dreams give Dante unease and fear.

Well, the memory, the feeling of his mother in Dante's vision so far is the following: his mother told himself to hide and not come out, and sacrificed himself to save himself. It is the great selfless motherly love that belongs to Dante.

Although it was a great mother's love, the memory of that day still makes Dante feel uneasy and afraid. The last memory his mother leaves Dante with is the one that tells Dante to hide, and implicitly the will to let him live. If we add the DMC1 novel to the mix here, it is at this very moment that he is drawn to his father's sword.

Again within these memories and fragments, the mother is rendered unknowable to Vergil, meaning that we do not or cannot see in Dante's recollections that the mother ever went looking for Vergil, if not for the presence of the phrase [兄さんもいなくなっちゃったんだ!] we would not even know in this recollection of Dante that he knew that he had a brother. What we can see or what Dante perceives in his vision is that his mother loved him so much that she died in the process of protecting/saving him.

However, it is also a writing device that can be lifted off as suspense.

But again, this doesn't do any damage to the image of Eva as a great mother, because based on what happened that day, the great mother had to choose to save/protect (potentially the closest to her or that she could find) one child and had to give up the other in the face of force majeure. Dante also never said before DMC5 whether his mother loved Vergil or not, whether she ever sought him out or whether she cared for his brother as well.

What we see in Dante's vision is basically what Dante can know, but it doesn't mean all of it. After all, comics or game scenes have an obligation to show us the scenes, but it doesn't necessarily mean that the characters actually see all the textures. We, as players/readers, are a kind of God's eye and we can notice things that are not right or different (also a storytelling technique) but as protagonists we are not necessarily fully aware or in the same position as us.

I think if you have seen suspense films, you will also often see that kind of bridge, we all know that this bomb is going to explode this person to kill that person, although there is that kind of explicitly shown in the footage, but the protagonist is still unaware of the appearance, many viewers are in order to pinch a cold sweat, for this reason anxious hope that the protagonist quickly realize.

And DMC5 gives us a formal depiction of that day, not through snippets like a nightmare, you can see in the game's overstory description that it says Dante dreamed of what happened before, which means this time you are shown real memories.

After all, a nightmare is not necessarily a real memory, it is a condensation of a certain memory. Sometimes we have a nightmare like dreaming of a giant cockroach because we are afraid, so we reproduce and amplify this fear in our nightmares, so that a small cockroach we see in the house becomes enormous in our nightmares, the giant cockroach is not necessarily real but the fear is real. Of course, we are not talking about the formation of nightmares here, but only about the fact that nightmares and some fragments of our memories with fear and anxiety may be a recreation of what we felt and what existed at the time, but not necessarily a completely real recreation.

In the DMC5 Eva process screen.

There is a slight difference between Japanese subtitles and English subtitles, or even Japanese dubbing.

The overall meaning is actually similar to the DMC3 manga, Eva is all over Dante not moving and telling him to hide/hide, the only difference is that she says more words to make Dante forget his past and forget his name and start a new life from scratch/not being Dante but another person to start over. All also contain the mother's wish for him to live well.

The difference is that in the Japanese subtitles, Eva clearly expresses the possibility that she may not return and so tells Dante to listen well to what she says next, whereas in English it is expressed as I promise you will return.

In the English context, although the mother says she will come back, she immediately reverses the 'come back' in the next sentence, saying that she knows it will be difficult, but you're old enough so you'll have to do this if I don't come back. They both mean the same thing, a mother who knows she might not come back and tells her child what she will do if she doesn't come back, as if making a pact with her child: we agreed that if I don't come back, you will remember to do this, I know you can do it.

If you look closely at the animation of the process, you can even see Dante's hand trembling on the cupboard door, he is very scared.

And the BGM here also happens to be called: More Fear

And of course it is here that we first see Eva looking for Vergil, and it turns out that Eva has looked for Vergil! This doesn't exactly match the information we got on Dante's side earlier.

But are you saying that the DMC1 message contradicts the current message? The DMC1 novel only mentions that he cried next to his mother's body, not that she said anything to him before she died, after which he became obsessed with his father's sword out of fear and terror. And his father's sword statement is the same as his mother's deathbed statement but in a very different series.

The meaning of the mother's words is very clear, the words are all about the desire for her child to live well and to stay away from these things that will hurt him, a good expectation and blessing for her child and the expectation and belief that her child will be able to do so.

「今はその名を隠し、目を眩ませ、逃げ延びよ」

“Now go incognito, confuse the enemy and flee far away!”

The overall meaning of the phrase is that it is dangerous to hide the name, confuse the enemy and run away, and the phrase even takes the form of a command that the child must do what he says.

It's a phrase you'd put in the context of a superior to a subordinate, a captain to his teammates, and in the context of a tense battlefield man telling you to run fast is perfectly fine and appropriate. But Eva's words could only be said by a mother to her child.

When all the memories are linked together, our facts about Eva become a little more complete, and at the same time what effect does it have on Dante?

If his mother only died saving him and he hated his father for her revenge which is quite reasonable, this has to be a blowback from his father's enemies. What is necessary to mention here is what Dante's mindset was regarding DMC1 killing the Black Angel.

In the official publication of the 3124 collection, Dante is said to have killed the Black Angel with "no thought", a word synonymous with "remnant", which is generally translated into Chinese as: regret.

And the DMC1 how-to book has a direct description of his ideas.

Dante is talking here about Mundus killing his mother and brother.

This is not the same as what we generally think of as objective perception. In the game we see over the course of the game, the Black Angel looks as if he still has a heart, so naturally we think there is still salvation, after all, he is still alive.

But here Dante does not think that it was his own hand that killed the Black Angel, but that Mundus killed Vergil.

Of course we can parse this to mean that killing the man who was Vergil means, but even so within this passage of Dante he is not one of the reasons for Vergil's death, he has no responsibility in Vergil's death and is not responsible for any act occurring in the process, but rather Mundus should need to take full responsibility.

In other words, it means that even if it was he who killed the Black Angel in the course of the battle, then he is not responsible for it, but Mundus is responsible for it, because it was Mundus who arranged it, and how could he have killed it if he had not arranged it there, it was not his problem, it was Mundus' problem.

than what we generally think of as objective factual rational logic going into the judgement: although Mundus turned Vergil into a black angel like that, he himself didn't recognise the killing, more or less he was responsible for it or felt particularly guilty that he didn't recognise it.

Dante's logic leans more towards total emotional logic: It's all Mundus' fault!

And in DMC5 just as Vergil used to think it was a matter of not having enough power, now it's a matter of having too much power, and now that Mundus is gone, not recognizing Vergil (V) for killing Vergil can only be his active choice, not a passive one, and it can only be that his responsibility has nothing to do with Mundus.

Returning to the mother, what arises is in fact the same question. If before it was his mother's great love for him, which was selfless and exclusive to him, now, at this moment, her love is equal, not just his but also his brother's. The "he" whose mother sacrificed herself to save him in the flashback (DMC5) is not really a "he". His mother's did not hesitate to rush out to save her brother, knowing the danger.

Of course we must also mention nell, arguably the designer of Dante's double shot.

In the novel, Thor wants Neal to commission and pay a deposit for a double gun for himself, one of which is a secret-made gun he stole from a robbery, and the other is the same type of medieval gun that Neal himself received.

nell is so good to Tony, as is clearly described in the DMC1 novel, because Tony looks so much like her child, and her love for her child is projected onto Tony, and she holds on to her job before she eventually dies, not only because of her love for Tony but also her love for her own child, and more so for the work ethic she has taken on this job and should complete.

But all the same, the person she missed most on her deathbed was her own child, something Tony could never replace, nor could he if he wanted to, which of course didn't mean that nell's love for Tony was false, nell's love for Tony was also real, indeed it was love, it was precisely because of the person of her own child that nell loved so deeply that Tony was loved by her.

Whether it is nell or the mother Eva, their love for their child is not solely Dante's alone and only his, or why they love Dante/Tony, it is because they both love their child, and if they were not such, then Dante would naturally not be loved by them.

His mother's protection and sacrifice is something he feels and desires, something that is personal and emotional for him. It also explains Dante's statement to Trish in DMC1 that "his mother died to protect herself", because Trish, like his mother in his feelings and understanding, has what he calls a "heart".

Of course, because DMC1 is entirely Dante's vision of storytelling (DMC1 is Dante's story), his mother is human in Dante's eyes, and Trish acts like his mother to protect him, or even Dante's ideal mother, so Trish is also a person with a "heart", as to how Trish feels or if that is the case. We will not discuss this issue here.

Surely the mother did not save Dante? This is necessarily a negative, but was it to save him that his mother died, or to hold back the demon who tried to kill him so that he could escape? Again, that is a negative. Wouldn't his mother have done that in that situation? That too is a negative. Wouldn't Dante have wanted his mother? No. Must Dante have never been afraid of not wanting his mother to stay by his side to give him security and protection? Did Dante only want to protect his mother and never wanted her to stay by his side to protect him? All the information above seems to be in the negative.

DMC5 is simply a reinterpretation and addition of information from the past, the only thing overturned is Dante's belief that his mother died to save himself.

This message provides us with an explanation of the origin of Dante's hatred for his brother, as is often the case in many films and novels, in which he blames the child for the death of his beloved wife, even though it was not the child's fault, and believes that if it had not been for him, his wife would not have died. He stubbornly believes that his mother died to save him, not to save his brother, and not because of this he is unable to love his brother; he acts as if he wishes he could have the mother's love all to himself.

For if we are to acknowledge the fact that his mother died to save his brother, we also have to acknowledge something else, and that is that he equally did not want to be left/abandoned by his mother.

Of course, this is not a contradiction or a conflict; it is only natural that a child should be afraid and want to protect his mother, and it is equally natural that he should want to protect her.

The above is purely a personal opinion

[starlightrevolution]

Memories of the Fallen

Memories of the Fallen

“Damn those Saints!” Laimi complained as she got back to her feet. “They killed me not once, but twice!”

Laimi looked around for a few seconds, to see the rocky are was entirely empty.

“They’ll see! I’ll find them and crush them!” Laimi declared furiously. “Just wait until they get a piece of me!”

Laimi heard the sound of footsteps coming from behind her, and turned around, before her eyes widened and a powerful golden light engulfed her body.

“Damn you!” Laimi screamed, as the atoms of her body were obliterated.

===============================================

“Steven! I know you’re watching us! We promised that we would meet again all of those years ago, and so we did… so here’s another promise!” Connie declared, as she began burning her Cosmo. “I’m going to punch you right in the face!”

“Steven… that’s how you call Lord Hades, isn’t it?” Myu asked. “You fool, can’t you see you are about to die?”

“Pegasus Meteor Fist!” Connie declared as she punched the air hundreds of times, firing hundreds of shockwaves from her fists.

“Nebula Chain!” Daniel declared as his chains came to life, and flew towards Myu while charged with electricity.

“Too slow.” Myu declared, as the Bronze Saints’ eyes widened, and they turned around to see Myu was standing behind them. Before they could react, they felt a powerful force taking hold of their body, and were sent flying away from Myu. “You weak Bronze Saints have no hope of ever surpassing my telekinesis.”

“Damn it!” Connie complained as she held her arm in pain. “Misty broke my arm! Our wounds heal quicker because of our Cosmo, but even then, I wish I didn’t have to get into a fight so soon!”

“That Silver Saint broke your arm?” Myu asked, as his telekinesis grabbed Connie’s arms and raised her from the ground through them. “It’s only fair I show my superiority to him. I’ll tear them both right off!”

Connie yelled in pain, before Daniel swiftly fired his Andromeda Chain towards Myu, who vanished right before the chain could strike him. Connie’s body flew and clashed against Daniel, sending the two to the ground. The two tried to get back up, only to feel a powerful telekinetic force tossing them back to the ground, almost as if a powerful gravity was about to crush them.

“He doesn’t even have to touch us!” Daniel complained, as the telekinesis continued to force his face against the ground, attempting to crush his bones.

“I can’t… give up…” Connie whispered, as her Cosmo began burning and she began forcing herself up from the ground, before Myu waved his hand, and Connie once again crashed against the ground as her wounds began opening. Connie managed to look up, to see Myu smiling wickedly. “Steven…”

“Now, fly to the world of the dead.” Myu declared, as his butterflies began flying around the two Bronze Saints, and a powerful multicolored light struck the two. “Deadly Enchantment!”

The light illuminated the entire battlefield, before the two Bronze Saints disappeared. Myu smirked, before he turned around and began walking away, only for a chain to suddenly come flying out of nowhere and strike him right on the head, opening a small wound on his forehead.

“What?” Myu asked in surprise, before he turned to see Daniel holding Connie in his arms. “Impossible! My Deadly Enchantment should have teleported you to the underworld instantly! After you reach the Underworld, only Lord Hades can bring you back!”

“Daniel’s chain caught us, right before your light could reach us.” Connie declared, as she got back to her feet.

“No matter how far away the enemy is, nothing can escape my Andromeda Chain.” Daniel declared.

“You are fools. Don’t you see you are only delaying the inevitable?” Myu asked. “None of you Saints stand a chance against Lord Hades, and you should know this better than anyone, Pegasus.”

“Me?” Connie asked in slight confusion.

“However, it seems like this reincarnation of Pegasus is nothing more than an immature child.” Myu declared in a mocking tone.

Connie closed her fist, before looking directly towards Myu as her Cosmo began burning.

“Shut your mouth!” Connie declared. “I became a Saint so I could fight to protect the world, not to hear any nonsense from you! I am Pegasus Connie, and I am going to meet my friend Steven! If you get in my way, I’m blowing right past you!”

Connie punched the air several times, as the shockwaves from her fists formed the shape of a hundred meteors. Myu raised his hand and began crushing Connie’s fists with his telekinesis, when the meteors suddenly began glowing in a bright blue light.

“Those are not meteors…” Myu whispered in surprise, as the meteors came together into the shape of a large comet, which flew towards Myu, breaking right through the strength of his telekinesis. “It’s a comet!”

“Pegasus Comet Fist!” Connie declared, as the gigantic comet flew towards Myu, who swiftly put his hands up to block, managing to hold back the comet for a few seconds, before it exploded in a flash of light, sending Myu flying.

“Damn you!” Myu complained, as he looked down upon his hands. “Cygnus broke one of my arms! If it wasn’t for that, I would have been able to overpower the comet!”

Myu flew through the air for a few more seconds, before flapping his wings and managing to gently land on the ground, before he held his arm in pain. Myu stared at Connie in anger, who still held her fists up like a boxer.

“Daniel, did you get it?” Connie asked.

“Yes.” Daniel nodded, before he pulled back his chain, which now held the rosary.

“What?” Myu asked in surprise as he looked down towards his other hand, to see the rosary had vanished. He looked back towards the two, as Connie smirked. “The comet was just a distraction! I was so busy looking at my broken arm that I didn’t even notice when they took the rosary from the other arm!”

“So, are you going to tell us what this thing is, or do we have to beat the answers out of you?” Connie asked confidently.

“You fools!” Myu yelled in anger, before a powerful blast of telepathy struck the two, sending them flying. They screamed in pain, before they fell to the ground, Daniel dropping the rosary, which fell right in between them. Myu made his way towards the rosary and grabbed it, only to realize Connie was holding tightly to it. “You Bronze Saints have blocked my way for long enough! You are like cockroaches in the trash! Whenever I crush one of you, a bunch more of you arrive!”

“What makes you think that a worm such as you have any the right to call us cockroaches?” They heard, before Myu’s eyes widened in surprise, and turned around to see a silhouette approaching the battlefield. Connie breathed, to see her breath was now visible in the air, as small snowflakes began falling from the sky, and the white Cosmo of the figure began burning, as an aura of cold around her.

“I can’t believe it!” Myu declared in surprise. “It cannot be!”

“It’s you…” Daniel whispered, as the figure finally walked into the light. “Cygnus Patricia!”

“The one and only.” Patricia declared.

“I killed you! I pierced you right through the heart!” Myu declared as he pointed towards Patricia. “You should be dead!”

“Pierced my heart, you say?” Patricia asked, as Myu noticed a small glow coming from the wound in her chest. The Specter looked closely, to see a pendant in the shape of a crescent moon with a star near it.

“That thing got in the way when I tried to pierce your heart!” Myu declared. “Had it not been for it, you would have died for sure.”

“The star and crescent aren’t actually symbols of Islam. This was the symbol of the Ottoman Empire. Some recent movements have reinterpreted it as an unofficial Islamic symbol. My mom was one of them.” Patricia declared as she reached for the symbol, holding it carefully. “Mother… you’ve saved me again…”

Myu stared at Patricia furiously, before he heard the sound of footsteps coming from behind, and turned around to see yet another Saint had gotten back to his feet.

“Jeff!” Connie yelled.

“Stay down!” Daniel yelled. “You can’t see!”

“Do you really expect me to stay on the ground while you’re all fighting?” Jeff asked, keeping his eyes closed as he continued to bleed. “I don’t care if I’ve lost both of my eyes, or any other part of my body. I heard what you said about the Silver Saints. They didn’t sell their soul to Hades at all, they were fighting for Athena, even after death. I have no right to stand down just because I’ve lost my eyes, not after everything they’ve been through. If I’m going to die, then I’ll die fighting for the memories of the fallen!”

“He’s right…” Connie declared as she began getting back to her feet, just as Daniel did the same, and the four Bronze Saints all got in their battle positions. “Everybody… are you ready to die here?”

“For Athena!” Daniel declared.

“For the world!” Patricia and Jeff declared in unison.

“Athena! Show us a ray of light in this world of darkness!” The four declared in unison, as their Cosmo began burning intensively, showing the image of Pegasus, Andromeda, Cygnus, and Dragon, united behind them.

“Their Cosmos… it’s like they were meant to be together…” Myu whispered. “Could they be… No… there is a small difference… ”

Myu closed his eyes for a few seconds, before once again opening them.

“Your father!” Myu declared loudly. “Who is your father?”

“I never met my father.” Connie declared. “He left my mom before I was even born.”

“Same for me.” Daniel declared. “It was just me and my brother. My mom died giving birth to me.”

“My mother raised me by herself.” Patricia declared. “She never told me anything about my father. I assumed he died.”

“I was put to adoption when I was a baby. I never met either of my parents.” Jeff declared. “I never cared enough to go after them.”

“I see it now…” Myu declared in realization, before he began laughing maniacally. “How poetic. The four of you came together from completely different parts of the globe, just so you can all die before me.”

“Enough talking.” Patricia declared, as she took a few steps towards Myu. “I am going to send you to hell with my next move. You won’t even have time to know what happened.”

“Patricia…” Daniel whispered. “Are you sure?”

“Don’t worry. I’ve fought him before, and I know all of his moves.” Patricia declared, not taking her eyes away from Myu. “All I ask of you is that none of you try to get involved, at least not at first.”

“Very well, Cygnus. I’ve killed you once, and now I’ll kill you again.” Myu declared, as his Cosmo began burning. “Deadly Enchantment!”

The butterflies flew around Patricia, paralyzing her movements, before a bright ray of multicolored light flew towards her and engulfed her body.

“Patricia!” Daniel yelled in shock, as Myu began laughing once again.

“What was that you said again?” Myu asked in a mocking tone. “The same attack will never work twice?”

“Yes.” Patricia declared, as everyone around her gasped in surprise “That is what I said.”

“What is happening?” Jeff asked. “What did she do?”

“I can’t believe it!” Myu declared in surprise, as he realized the reflective surface surrounding Patricia’s body. “She created a barrier of ice crystals around her body to deflect the light from my Deadly Enchantment!”

“Deflecting?” Jeff asked in surprise, as his face remained turned to another direction. “So, that means that…”

“It means the one going to hell will be you, Papillon Myu!” Patricia declared, as the light from the butterflies reflected off the mirror formed by the ice barrier around her, and flew directly towards Myu. The Specter yelled in surprise, as he was struck by his own attack, and his body vanished after being engulfed with light.

===============================================

Yomotsu Hirasaka:

Myu opened his eyes, before shaking his head and bringing his hand to it. He felt as if the light had gained life and grabbed every spot of his body at once, as if he had been tied by unbreakable chains and dragged away. He looked around to see he had landed on a dark hill, filled with several people walking in a line. The place was quiet, save from the screams of those who reached the end of the line, falling into the massive and bottomless abyss right at the center of the hill.

“It can’t be! They sent me to the Yomotsu, the abyss that leads to the world of the dead!” Myu declared in shock, as he took a few steps back. “If I continue advancing, I will meet death for sure!”

Myu looked down upon his hands, to see the rosary he was holding had vanished.

“Damn it! Pegasus must have taken it while I was distracted with the Cygnus!” Myu declared, before he opened his wings and began flying away. “Don’t think you’ve beaten me just yet, you worms! I am protected by Lord Hades, which allows me to come back from this place as I please!”

Myu flew away from the abyss, before glowing and disappearing in the sky.

===============================================

Death Queen Island:

“Damn you!” Myu yelled in fury as he teleported back into the battlefield. He opened his eyes, to see Connie was indeed holding the rosary, as the four Bronze Saints surrounded the Specter. Myu tried to attack, but fell to the ground and began hyperventilating.

“Told ya’ I’d send you to hell, didn’t I?” Patricia declared. “You better get used to it. Hell is where you Specters belong, and you’ll dwell in there forever once we’re done with you.”

“The butterflies paralyze you, while the light sends you straight into the Underworld.” Connie explained as she understood how the technique worked.

“Such a terrifying attack.” Jeff commented. “To think he would have defeated us so easily if we were unprepared.”

“Patricia specializes in paralyzing techniques, and she also saw that attack before. That’s why she was able to deflect it so easily.” Daniel realized. “If it wasn’t for her, Myu could have defeated us all in a second.”

“Now to finish him off.” Patricia declared as she raised her hand and prepared to attack.

“Patricia, wait!” Daniel yelled. “Now is our chance, let’s retreat.”

“Hm?” Jeff asked. “You want to just run away?”

“It is the best option we have. We were sent here to take this rosary back to the Sanctuary.” Daniel reminded, as Patricia turned around to look at him. “We can’t waste our time fighting him anymore. Even if we manage to defeat him, he’ll just come back to life after a while. Let’s get out of this island and take the rosary back to the Sanctuary.”

“Too late!” Myu declared, as he leaped back up and struck Patricia on her back with his fist, his multi-colored Cosmo creating a small explosion, as the Cygnus Saint yelled and fell to the ground, the other three quickly assuming their battle positions in surprise. Patricia tried to get up, only for Myu to step on her head. “Did you really think the sight of the Yomotsu would keep me down for long? I am a Specter of the Underworld! The place you call hell is but a garden to us!”

Myu kicked Patricia on the ground, making her fly several meters and land right next to the other Bronze Saints.

“You’ve done nothing but increase my rage!” Myu yelled from the top of his lungs. “Come! I’ll defeat all four at once!”

“Why you!” Patricia declared, before the four all dashed towards Myu.

“May my fists turn into meteors and shred the galaxy!” Connie declared as she fired several punches. “Pegasus Meteor Fist!”

“Face the wrath of the swan that rules over the world of ice!” Patricia declared as she threw a punch. “Diamond Dust!”

“Behold the roaring dragon that flies above the waters of the Five Ancient Peaks!” Jeff declared as he threw an upwards punch. “Rozan Ascending Dragon!”

“The stars the fly through the universe exploded and came together in the shape of a nebula!” Daniel declared as he fired his chain. “Nebula Chain!”

“You fools! You stand no chance against my telekinesis!” Myu declared, as he fired a powerful blast of telekinesis, which clashed against the four attacks. Myu grinned confidently, before his expression changed into one of shock. “The attacks are changing!”

“Pegasus Comet Fist!”

“Holodnyj Smerč!”

“Rozan Flying Dragon!”

“Thunder Wave!”

“Unbelievable! It’s like they all just became a hundred times more powerful in a second!” Myu declared in surprise, as the Cosmos of the four together broke through his telekinesis. “They’re going to hit me!”

The four Cosmos clashed together and exploded in a massive flash of light, sending Myu flying as several cracks appeared all over his Surplice, and his wings burned to ashes. The four stood up for a few seconds, before falling to the ground in exhaustion. Myu struggled on the ground as blood began flowing from the several wounds on his body, and he began forcing himself up, even as his bones felt like they were about to fall apart.

“Even if just for a second, the Cosmos of the four managed to surpass even those of the Silver Saints…” Myu declared bitterly, as he struggled to approach the unconscious bodies of the four. He raised his hand and charged it with Cosmo. “I’m going to kill them now… before they become even more of a threat to Lord Hades!”

Myu felt a powerful Cosmo suddenly lighting up, and turned around just in time to be punched square in the face, before he looked back to see the person who had just attacked him.

“Pegasus!” Myu declared in anger, as Connie struggled to keep herself from falling to the ground, hyperventilating as she stood. “Even after using such a high amount of Cosmo, you are still able to fight. Are you truly the Killer of Gods I’ve been told about?”

“Did… we hit you… too hard… on the head?” Connie asked in between quick breaths, before she cracked a cocky smirk. “Because it sure as hell seem like you’re just talking nonsense again…”

Myu stared at the Bronze Saint with anger and hate in his eyes.

“The four of us might not be Specters, but we’ve all seen hell today.” Connie declared, before she dashed and struck Myu with a punch, sending the Specter to the ground. “We’d never lose to an insect such as you!”

“How can you be so powerful?” Myu demanded, as he leaped back to his feet and pointed towards Connie. “You’re just a Bronze Saint. Nothing but a foot soldier for the Sanctuary. Just what the hell are you?”

“I’m the one who is about to beat you to a pulp, that’s what I am!” Connie yelled, before she dashed and struck Myu with a flurry of punches. Myu raised his arm to block, only for Connie to struck his broken arm from when he fought Patricia, making the Specter scream in pain, before Connie’s last punch send him rolling through the ground.

“Damn it! I could beat her if that last attack hadn’t hurt me so much!” Myu whispered angrily on the ground. “Is this brat immortal or something?”

“Pegasus Meteor Fist!” Connie declared as she fired her meteors, only for Myu to leap back up and stop the attack by raising his hands, as the meteors seemed to strike an invisible wall. “So you can still use your telekinesis!”

“I’ll put an end to you, Pegasus!” Myu declared, as he fired his butterflies. “Deadly Enchantment!”

The butterflies surrounded Connie, before the bright light engulfed her. Myu smirked, only for his smile to drop, as the light dissipated to reveal Connie still standing, as an object in her arm had blocked the enchantment.

“The Dragon Shield?” Connie asked in surprise, as she saw the broken green shield that had just jumped to her arm.

“Borrow my strength, Connie!” Jeff yelled from the ground. “This is the most powerful shield among all Bronze Cloths! Even after being shattered by Algol, it is still capable of protecting you from this light!”

“Thank you, Jeff!” Connie yelled.

“This shield might block my Deadly Enchantment, but you still cannot escape my butterflies!” Myu yelled furiously. “Go, Butterflies of the Underworld! Paralyze her movements!”

The butterflies flew towards Connie, only for another piece of a Cloth to jump onto her other arm, and a powerful chain to swirl around her at great speeds, striking down all of the butterflies.

“Take my Andromeda Chain, Connie!” Daniel yelled from the ground. “I don’t have the strength to get back up, but I’ll stand with you to the end!”

“Thank you, Daniel!” Connie yelled, before she dashed and began firing several meteors towards Myu. “Pegasus Meteor Fist!”

“I’ll stop them with my telekinesis!” Myu declared as he raised his hands once again, only for him to take a step back in surprise, as the meteors were suddenly surrounded by powerful gusts of cold air. “This is…”

“My Diamond Dust!” Patricia yelled from the ground. “Connie! Use my ice crystals!”

“Thank you, Patricia!” Connie yelled, before her meteors broke right through the telekinesis using the increased strength granted to them by the cold air, and struck Myu directly, sending the Specter flying. Connie stood for a few moments, before falling to the ground, her legs no longer having enough strength to get up.

“Incredible…” Myu whispered on the ground, before he slowly got back up. He almost fell back, but managed to keep his balance. “Your teamwork is incredible… Your Cosmos surpass even that of a Silver Saint!”

“That was the strength that was given to me by my friends…” Connie whispered as she looked up from the ground, once again trying to get back up, only to fall back.

“No… more than friendship…” Myu whispered it. “Brotherly love…”

The eyes of Connie, Patricia, and Daniel widened in surprise, as Jeff’s mouth dropped open.

“What did you just say?” Connie asked in surprise.

“I first realized it when I felt your Cosmos burning together, but now there is no doubt about it…” Myu whispered. “Four children, born from different mothers, sharing the same father. I am about to kill you, but here at the last second, I feel like you should know. You all share the same blood. The four of you are siblings for sure.”

“Siblings…” Daniel whispered.

“We were siblings this entire time?” Jeff asked.

“My mother never told me about that…” Patricia whispered. “Did she even know?”

“If you know we’re siblings… so…” Connie whispered. “Our father… you know who our father is, don’t you? Tell me! Tell me now!”

“Connie, Patricia, Daniel, Jeff…” Myu whispered, before he charged his fists with Cosmo and prepared to fire another attack., just as Connie closed her eyes and fell to the ground “Your life ends now!”

“Who are you to decide whether they live or die?” Asked a booming voice, which seemed to come from every direction at once.

“Who is there?” Myu asked, as he looked around in confusion, not being able to locate his enemy. “Show yourself!”

“On heaven and earth, I alone am honored.” The voice declared peacefully, before a bright golden light suddenly appeared in the sky, forcing Myu to close his eyes. The light gently floated down from above, before morphing into the shape of a lotus flower and opening, to reveal a small figure wearing a Gold Cloth. She sat in a meditation position, while keeping her eyes closed.

“Another Saint?” Myu asked furiously. “Are you ants just going to keep coming?”

“You call me an ant because you’re confident in your power?” The Gold Saint asked, not opening her eyes. “The Monkey King Son Goku thought of himself the strongest, but he did nothing but run around in the hand of Buddha. Same could be said about you.”

“Who the hell are you?” Myu demanded furiously.

“I am Virgo Peridot.” She declared, as she finally left her meditation position, still keeping her eyes closed, and she made her way to the rosary, before picking it up from the ground. “My predecessor hid this rosary in this island, and now I’ve come to retrieve it.”

“You fool! If that rosary is going to belong to anyone, that will be to Lord Hades!” Myu declared angrily, before he fired his butterflies towards Peridot. “Deadly Enchantment!”

“Kahn.” Peridot whispered, as a golden force field formed around her body, completely halting the light from the butterflies.

“I can’t believe it!” Myu declared in shock. “She stopped my Deadly Enchantment by just whispering a word?”

Peridot waved the rosary in the air, as Myu suddenly found himself surrounded by gigantic beads, identical to the ones in the rosary. He looked around in shock.

“What is this?” Myu asked in surprise. “Illusion?”

“This rosary was created by Siddhartha Gautama. There are 108 beads in this rosary, just as there are 108 Specters in Hades’ army.” Peridot declared, as she held up the rosary, to show one of the beads had turned black. “The soul of one Specter has been locked within this bead, preventing Hades from reviving her.”

“One Specter… Laimi!” Myu declared in surprise. “Lord Hades can no longer bring her back?”

“I will pronounce the last word and destroy you forever.” Peridot declared.

“I won’t let you!” Myu declared, as he held Peridot with his telekinesis. “I am Papillon Myu, the one who holds the greatest telekinetic power among all Terrestrial Stars!”

Peridot stood still for a few seconds, before raising her hand.

“She can still move even while being held down by my telekinesis!” Myu screamed in shock, before Peridot gently waved her hand. Myu screamed in agony, as a telekinetic force began moving his body. His arm suddenly twisted and moved to his back, before his other arm broke itself and twisted in front of him. His legs both twisted and broke, and his head completely froze, before his Surplice suddenly broke to pieces. “What is this power? It’s as if my telekinesis was a droplet of water, and hers was a bottomless ocean!”

“Look. Another one of the beads has turned black.” Peridot declared as she showed the rosary, and Myu’s eyes widened as the brown bead magically changed colors before his eyes, just as Peridot began concentrating a galaxy of Cosmo in her hands.

“What are you doing?” Myu yelled in desperation.

“Tenma Kofuku.” Peridot declared as she opened her hands, and a massive amount of Cosmo flied out and destroyed everything in its path, as the image of a beautiful woman appeared behind her.

“Her power… it approaches that of the Gods!” Myu whispered from the ground, before smiling. “Doesn’t matter… We who are loyal to Lord Hades are guaranteed eternal life after death!”

“Really? For even after the years of meditation I’ve gone through in order to become a Buddha, I’ve never once heard of someone who had lived forever.” Peridot explained, maintaining her eyes closed and her peaceful demeanor. “Per paths this means I am not as enlightened as I believe, or maybe…”

Myu’s eyes widened in shock and despair.

“It can’t be! What Lord Hades promised to us was…” Myu whispered, before he fell to the ground, dead at last. Peridot looked over his body while still maintaining her eyes closed. The wheel of life turns once again.

“Y-you…” Daniel whispered from the ground, as Peridot slowly made her way towards the Bronze Saints. “You’re… a Gold Saint?”

“Calm your anger. I will teleport us somewhere save” Peridot declared, as a powerful light flew out of her hands and engulfed them all. “You’ve all fought bravely. The great battle of Death Queen Island… is over.”

To be continued.

End of the Death Queen Island Arc.

Status:

Pegasus Connie: Inactive.

Dragon Jeff: Inactive.

Cygnus Patricia: Inactive.

Andromeda Daniel: Inactive.

Lizard Misty: Dead.

Cetus Moses: Dead.

Cerberus Dante: Dead.

Perseus Algol: Dead.

Worm Laimi: Dead.

Papillon Myu: Dead.

Virgo Peridot: Active.

Author’s note: We’ve finally reached the end of the first story arc. I am very happy to be writing this right now. What started as a random writing prompt is slowly developing into a story I really love to write. Are you people enjoying it so far? Do you have any criticism? Is there any part of the story that you need help understanding? Feel free to give me any feedback. I am very happy whenever I get any sort of response or comment from the audience. This story arc might be over, but don’t worry, the tale of the four siblings of Bronze still has a long way to go. We are about to meet a powerful puppet master, who holds an important piece of knowledge. This puppet master will surely be one of the greatest enemies the Sanctuary has ever faced. A certain Gold Saint might be involved. I dedicate this chapter to my brother-in-law’s mother, who passed away recently. May she rest in peace. Thank you for reading.

Cloth designs:

Peridot wears the Virgo Gold Cloth, that looks like this:

[ymiwritesstuff]

My Dear Pet

OK SO.. Uhmm.. how should I explain this.. This is a ROLE REVERSAL AU and well.. just read. Maybe it’ll become clear.

Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure Part 1: Phantom Blood

Dio Brando x Fem!Reader

Summary: Upon arriving to the Joestar mansion with the intention of becoming a part of the family, your eyes immediately notice a certain blonde noble who catches your attention.

Notes: Role reversal AU, Spoilers for part 1, VERY suggestive themes and language

The carriage you are seated in comes to a stop when you finally reach your destination. Looking through the small window you can see the Joestar manor in all it’s glory. This “glorious” sight makes you scoff and you swing the door open, throwing your suitcase on the ground, which catches the attention of the two males in front of you. Under their curious gazes you gracefully jump out of the cramped wagon and land on the ground like an agile cat. Just a small action to prove your superiority.

When your sharp eyes fall on the blue haired boy -which you assume to be Jonathan Joestar-, he looks confused but quickly an expression of realization dawns on his face. “You’re (Name) (Surname), right?” A smug, self-assured grin appears across your lips. At least this noble brat has some manners. Even if he didn’t he’d soon know your name very well. “And you must be Jonathan Joestar,” you say, voice coated with a layer of false kindness. The sight of this pampered boy makes you disgusted. He has no idea how real life works.

“Everyone calls me Jojo. Nice to meet you,” Jonathan turns to the blond boy next to him, who wears an admittedly charming smile on his face. “This is Dio Brando, he’s a member of the Brando household.” The introduction awakened a certain curiosity in you. You had heard of the Brando family more than you had of the Joestars but knew how close the families were. Dio politely took one of your hands in his and gently kissed the back of it, an action which amused you greatly.

“A pleasure to meet you, Ms. (Surname). I hope you enjoy your time here.” The way his strangely sharp eyes looked at you twisted something inside you and made you even more curious about the boy in front of you. “I do believe the pleasure is all mine, Mr. Brando.” You flashed him a smirk which he immediately caught with his amber orbs. That smirk only grew when you noticed a faint wash of pink on his cheeks.

Jonathan’s highly obnoxious remarks of his dog you barely even looked at went unheard as your gaze remained on Dio. There was something.. Alluring about him. He didn’t radiate that same agitating noble boy’s energy as Jojo did, instead, he looked free in a way. The refreshing aura of freedom surrounded him and despite his sharp, cunning eyes the gaze within them was gentle and kind. It was as if he wasn’t meant to be a noble.

Your (E/C) eyes suddenly catch Jonathan’s dog running at you. A vicious snarl creeps on your face and with one swift movement, you mercilessly collide your knee with the snout of the animal. How dare Jonathan let his disgusting mutt get close to you? Danny lets out a whimper and falls to the ground, shaking from the pain. Serves him right. Both of the males gasp in shock and Jonathan is quick to defend his companion.

“What was that for?!” You respond to his pathetic attempt to defy you by glaring at him with eyes that are burning with increasing toxicity. So this was the heir to the Joestars? He was merely a pampered brat, undeserving of the fortune awaiting him. Your goals were absolute and you would not let this fool get in the way of your plans. You would succeed and your hunger for power would not be quenched and you would do anything to ensure your position as the true heir of the Joestars. No matter what.

~

Just as you expected, defeating Jonathan wasn’t going to be easy. However with the help of a few fake rumors and other lies you were able to destroy his chances with Erina and completely obliterate his friendship with Dio. Just a tiny bit of intimidation to make the girl keep her mouth shut and just a small false rumor about Dio stealing her first kiss was all it took. Jojo had no friends anymore and you were more than happy to serve as Dio’s source of comfort, all the while your true nature was hidden behind a facade. Of course Erina told Jonathan the truth but it was too late for the male to repair his friendship with Dio and was devastated to see him call you his beloved.

For all these years you had maintained your innocent sister’s act and you were finally approaching the end. Soon, your father would die due to a sudden illness that was actually caused by your scheme and the family fortune would finally be yours. However you were a fool to think that it would all go smoothly as your dear brother who had caught glimpses of your mischievous eyes and the feigning tone of your voice, found out about your plan to assassinate your father. And upon confronting you about it, his suspicions were proven correct and he set out to find the antidote for the poison.

Damn that Jonathan. You were so close. You had thought that the thugs on that merciless Ogre Street would’ve finally put an end to the nuisance known as Jojo, but just like a bothersome cockroach, he came back unscathed and with your true intentions revealed, was ready to send you behind bars. But luck was on your side and the moment the spikes of the stone mask pierced your skull, you  transcended humanity and obtained that inhuman power you didn’t even know you were longing for.

~

Your lips curl into a smirk that reveals the tiniest portion of your newly acquired fangs as your brainless servants bring yet another human to your lair. This time however, the mortal brought into your impressive throne room of the dark castle was someone you knew far too well. With a single wave of your clawed hand, you dismiss your servants, leaving you alone with the golden haired man.

“Dio.. What a surprise..” Your low, honeyed voice reaches his ears and he lifts his gaze to look at you, wearing an expression that is a mixture of confusion and -quite surprisingly-, fear. Judging by the condition he’s in; filled with bruises and cuts, bringing him here wasn’t an easy task and the thought of him being a feisty little pet amused you.

“(Name).. W-what is going on?” He looks around him, the unknown surroundings coating him in a layer of nervousness and uneasiness. You let out a playful yet highly sinister chuckle that makes every hair in Dio’s body stand up, his amber eyes locked on your new form. Your slow footsteps echo around the open room, your smirk never fading and your (E/C) feasting on the sight of your lover on his knees. He looked like a lost puppy that was begging for assistance.

“Why do you look so frightened, my dear? Does my new appearance intimidate you?” Once you’re in front of him, you lower yourself to his level and gently caress his face with your claws. Dio notices the sharp fangs in your mouth and immediately remembers the events that occurred moments before his capture.

Jonathan had come to him, frantically trying to warn him about you as he found out that you had managed to survive the fire and he didn’t listen. He couldn’t possibly believe such foul talk about his lover, but now understands exactly what his friend was referring to as the (E/C) eyed monster stared at him.

“He.. He tried to tell me.. Jojo-” His monologue is cut short by your hands grabbing a fistful of his hair and tilting his head back. The sight of his exposed neck excites you, however you must resist the urge to taste his delicious blood for just a bit longer.

“Do not mention that name whilst in my presence..” Jonathan had interfered with your plans far too many times and the mere mention of his name was enough to make you want to rip apart the person who dared to let that name slip. However with Dio, it was different. He had shown undying love and devotion to you and it would be a shame if you lost that devotion. However this didn’t mean that your pet’s miscalculation would go unpunished.

“My dear, Dio..” You gently run your hand across his cheek, the other still keeping a firm grip on his soft locks. “You still love me, don’t you? After everything I’ve done for you..” You say, referring to the time when you comforted him about losing his friend which you caused, trying to manipulate him. It didn’t matter what he thought, though. He wasn’t going to escape. You had grown far too attached to the attractive golden haired man and you wouldn’t let him go.

You press your lips against him and notice him kissing you back, which makes you somewhat delighted. However you weren’t stupid and as soon as Dio tries to push you to the ground in an attempt to overpower you and possibly increase his chances of escape, you deny his attempt and he is the one who ends up on the ground, your form hovering above his. Your pet was misbehaving. Adorable.

“Let me make something very clear, my darling..” Your lips find their way dangerously close to his ear as you hold him in place. Under normal circumstances this wouldn’t have been possible but thanks to your new abilities, you were able to physically overpower even someone like Dio. Your hand runs along his chest, gently tracing the flesh under his shirt.

“You belong to me now.. There’s nothing you can do..” Your light touches make Dio’s heart pound faster and something that to you sounds like a moan escapes his lips. You take this as an early sign of submission and look at him with an intense gaze. “Now be a good boy and do as I say and I might heal your wounds..” Your cold hand caresses his face again, however you’re still unsatisfied with the gaze he gives you, as it lacks the submission you were looking for.

Your claws move to his neck and you break the skin, causing the man below you to groan in pain an discomfort. “Who do you belong to, Dio?” You inquire, refusing to stop until those words leave his mouth. He pants and gasps, realizing that there’s no stopping you unless he bends to your will.

“Y-you.. I.. I b-belong.. To you..” He finally says and you retreat your hand from his neck, licking the tiny drops of blood left in your digits. With an amused hum you lower your face to his and kiss him again, savoring the delicious taste of his blood. Dio feels his wounds healing, but knows that any attempt to escape or resist you would only result in more of them. He hates how much he’s enjoying what you’re doing to him.

And you know exactly how much he enjoys your touch and presence when he whimpers and melts under your dangerous touch. You were going to have so much fun with your pet.

[bigdrchief]

I... Am Cape Kuroto Dan - Enter the Next World (Worm/Kamen Rider)

The multiverse was a place full of life and wonder, each universe holding their own defenders of justice.

A world of pirates who fight against an evil empire.

A world of warriors who fight in an everlasting mirror world.

A world of magicians who use the power of courage.

A world of doctors and games fighting against the Bugster virus.

That last world sounds interesting, doesn't it? Not exactly a common combination, doctors and games, but there are certainly connections between them.

In that world, there existed a mad genius who created a game capable of changing the world, for the purposes of showcasing his own genius. He would fight against the "protagonists" to create a game capable of granting immortality, and would soon form a alliance with them to prevent his father from destroying any chances of stopping the Bugster virus (and in turn his game). After these events, the mad genius would continue his work, eventually succeeding in his goal of a game capable of resurrecting the fallen, but would soon finally face his end. A dangerous and insane foe, comparable to a cockroach in a mech suit, he is an enigma in its most chaotic form.

For a while, it was presumed that this mad man had finally died, no more continues left for the so-called god. But as he has shown time and time again, he will continue appearing in worlds using as many 'continues' as needed for the sake of his goals.

Of course, all of this did not matter for the inactive Vassal Manager, a Shard that used to work for Eden but was now waiting for a potential candidate to connect to. Its mastery over hard-light projections, in human terms, was what gave the Entities their forms that they would use when interacting with civilizations. With Eden currently offline, however, the Shard was left to its own devices, forced to wait for somebody to meet its requirements in order to connect once more to the Shard Network.

While currently calculating the best type of 'power' to distribute, it felt something poking and prodding at its network ports. It was clearly attempting to hack into its interface, which while somewhat surprising, would ultimately prove to be a futile gesture.

To the Shard's alarm, however, as it attempted to deconstruct the invader, it soon quickly spread across the various connections it had. No matter what guards the Shard placed, the virus was somehow able to circumvent it.

The Shard began to panic as it attempted to preserve its data in a last resort, only for the virus to begin quickly consuming it just as quickly, corrupting anything it came across. Its functions fading fast, the Shard was unable to put up a resistance against the virus, and slowly felt itself succumbing to it.

The last thought the Shard had before it fully degraded was not one it would normally think, but was indeed a result of the virus that had infected it. Those two words?

GAME OVER

*Line Skip*

5 weeks later...

The Merchants were currently on the run from the Heroes, having successfully made it off with various bags of money, most likely to use to buy some drugs (AGAIN)!

Armsmaster was gaining some leeway on the group, but Skidmark had decided to be a colossal dick and had Squealer configure a bunch of auto-turrets of sorts on their getaway vehicle, which was currently firing multiple rounds that Armsmaster was forced to dodge and serve through.

Skidmark grinned as he quickly rifled through the cash he had gathered, already calculating the amount of drugs he intends on buying and then selling to the poor sops of the city. WIth this much cash, they could probably make triple the amount of money then the usual amount they scam off of the losers of Brockton Bay. At this rate, they'll be rich in no time!

Armsmaster brings out his halberd, and attempts to fire a grappling hook at them, possibly in some sort of attempt to try and slow them down, but Skidmark quickly redirects it to a nearby lamp post, causing it to latch onto the steel pole and forcing Armsmaster to slow down temporarily in order to quickly unattach the hook.

Skidmark grinned viciously at this clear victory, and turned to count the money once more. Had he paid a bit more attention, he would have noticed Armsmaster radioing in information, presumably to other Protectorate Heroes. For now, however, he was more focused on how to make use of his money to profit.

It was quite unfortunate then, that something proceeded to slam into the car, causing it to stop much to Skidmark's irritation.

"What the fuck, Squealer?! Why the fuck aren't we moving!?"

"I-I don't know, so shut up and let me fucking fix this!" Squealer yelled out in anger as she pressed the gas pedal in an attempt to make it move to no avail.

Already aggravated at how this clear chance of victory was cut short, Skidmark imploded when he heard somebody chuckling at their misfortune. Jumping out of the vehicle, gun in hand, he growled as he quickly surveyed the area.

"Who the fuck is laughing at us!?" he yells out. "Come on out you little shit! Or are you too chicken and would rather cry to your mommy?!"

He let out a vicious grin when the perpetrator finally revealed themselves, appearing from a nearby alleyway.

It was some guy in cosplay, wearing some sort of purple and black suit with white highlights and white leg armor. The person wore purple shoes and purple shoulder pads, alongside purple cuffs, and some weird green machine thingie on their waist with a purple object inserted in it. On their chest was some weird armor, with four colored buttons on the left side of the armor and some sort of gauge on the left. The helmet was the weirdest part, however, as it had some spiky black hair and a weird white-edge visor with red cartoon eyes printed on it.

Skidmark and his fellow Merchants laughed at the fool. If this person was a Cape, they sure were a horrendous one! Who even wears something like that anyway?

"-HAHAHAHAHA! I can't believe you're wearing something that shitty-looking!" Skidmark said, pointing his gun at the figure. "So how about you go and die or something and let the big boys work, huh?"

Skidmark fired, then grunted when the bullet barely grazed the armor. Of course it couldn't be that easy, could it? The Parahuman was clearly a Tinker of sorts. Whatever, they could still take the asshat down.

As his men prepared his weapons (and Squealer finally getting the car to work again), the Cape finally spoke up.

"It appears that the beta testing has started." he spoke calmly, but with this bizarre tenseness mixed with an underlying chaotic energy that just screamed danger to Skidmark. Unfortunately, he makes love with drugs, and so he grabbed the mental warning sign and threw it at the Cape in rage and confusion.

"What the fuck are you talking about!?"

"I'm saying that pests like you aren't even worth the full use of my capabilities." the Cape continued, raising his hands in a grandiose manner. "Your sole purpose is to help with the calibration of this vessel, to ensure that it is functioning properly for use in this backwards planet."

"I have no idea what the fuck you're talking about." Skidmark flatly replied.

"You needn't need to remember. Once I'm done with you, the only thing you'll need to remember is your crushing defeat at my hands, Genm's hands." Genm said arrogantly.

"YOU MOTHERFUCKER!!" Skidmark exploded, his fragile pride unable to handle Genm's remarks, and throwing his gun at the Cape in rage, he used his power to overlay multiple layers on the gun, causing it to slam into the Cape at in intense speed, letting out a small explosion due to the few bullets still remaining inside. To his ever-growing frustration, Genm remained unharmed by the attack.

"HAHAHAHA!" he laughed at Skidmark's efforts. "Was that all you could do? I think it's time that I show you how a real CEO does it. I can easily crush you all, even if I have to use continues!"

Quickly rushing towards the group, Skidmark's underlings quickly fired onto the Cape, the bullets failing to slow him down. Genm quickly ran up to the group of goons and smash his fist into one of the goon's faces, slamming the poor fellow into the ground before quickly roundhouse kicking another goon. Genm then threw a few punches at a goon stupid enough to attempt to bash their gun on Genm, before swinging said goon around and throwing them into the crowd.

As the vehicle's engine purred, Genm turned towards the capes before raising his hand up.

"G̵̖̩̳͊̀̊A̷̻͊Ş̶̙̔̏̐̋̈̍͝Ȟ̵̢̜̙̪͈̯̓̓̄Á̷̝͇͉͙͎̈́Ć̸̦̾O̶̧̘͛͋̔͗N̴̘̝̳̜̖̼̦̅̈͠ ̷̢̣̯͓͊̓͌̽͐͘S̵̗̒͒W̶̛͓͇̳̰̍̈́̋͛̑Ó̸̹͉͇̪͔̑͐͊͜Ŕ̸̤̼̲̾͂̈̉͌̀ͅD̷̫̜͛̀̐̆̂̍͘!̴̨̗̖̩̟͊͌̓̽̚"

A distorted voice resounded in the area as dark violet pixels manifested around Genm's hand, before dispersing to reveal a simple sword with a silver hilt, a blue crossguard with a red A button and blue B button, and a red flaming serrated blade.

As Genm approached the Capes, Mush finally decided to intervene, using the various rubble that make up his body and flinging them towards the Cape, Skidmark enhancing the projectiles and causing them to move at speeds fast enough to be set on fire towards Genm. Genm simply swung the sword side to side, easily destroying the rubble that was flung at him.

Realizing that maybe this was a waste of time, Skidmark quickly jumped back into the vehicle and yelled at Squealer. "Step on it, ya bitch! Hurry up!"

"I'm fucking doing that assshole!" Squealer replied.

"Ko Chīn!"

However, just as the vehicle began backing up, the vehicle just as quickly stopped. As a confused Squealer tries the pedal once more, Skidmark looks over the car and sees to his shock ice had formed on the car's wheels, slowly inching upward like a caterpillar on a plant. Looking back at the cape, he saw the armored Tinker had stabbed the now cyan colored sword into the ground, freezing the area.

As the figure walked towards them, Skidmark grabbed a nearby machine gun that was stashed in the car earlier, and in a fit of desperation began firing the bullets at the Cape, using his power to enhance the power of the bullets. The bullets merely grazed the figure, and as the Cape began sprinting towards him, for a second Skidmark feared that he may have misjudged his victory.

A truck suddenly slammed into the figure from the side, slamming the Cape into a nearby building. Acting instinctively, Skidmark used his powers on the vehicle, enhancing its velocity enough that when it slammed into the nearby wall, it exploded. As the fire slowly receded, Skidmark saw Mush slowly moving away from a nearby parking lot, and quickly deduced him to be the cause of the vehicle crash.

"...Hahaha, serves that bitch right! Did he really think he could stand up against us!?"

Skidmark let out a definitely not nervous laughter as he looked over the wreckage, seeing no sign of the Cape moving. A pity, it seems like they killed the Tinker. Then again, if he had died from a mere explosion, than would he have been a good asset to them.

"Merchants. Cease and desist immediately."

Skidmark turned around, and growled when he the miltary hero pointing a gatling gun at him. Miss Militia, a Cape that Skidmark never really liked. If she was here, than the other Protectorate Capes would not be too far off.

"*Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep*"

"Come on Squealer!" he barked to the Tinker. "Hurry the fuck up and get us out of here!"

"*Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep*"

Squealer quickly nodded, but paused to Skidmark's confusion.

"*Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep*"

"Squealer, what the fuck are you doing!?" Skidmark yelled, only to freeze when he began hearing the noise she had.

"*Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep*"

Suddenly, a purple warp pipe with the word "CONTINUE" in rainbow colors appeared from the ground, and from it ascended to the Capes shock Genm, unharmed and untouched by the explosion earlier.

"*Doot-doodoo-doot-doodoot!*"

A small jingle played as the Tinker slowly stepped out of the pipe and onto the ground, cracking his neck as he stared at Skidmark. At that moment, he was pretty sure that were it not for the mask, he would've seen the stupid ass Cape smirking at his confusion.

"What the-!? How the fuck did you survive!? You were fucking blown up, you piece of shit!?!?" Skidmark yelled in confusion.

Genm simply shook his head as he removed the strange purple device from the green machine attacked on his waist, the machine letting out a "Gashun!" as a holographic indicator appeared beside the Tinker, displaying the words "GENM Life Points" and a red heart with the number 99 inside it.

"As I said, you are merely the beta test to my vessal's abilities. And one of those abilities includes the ability to 'respawn' after death." he explained pointing a finger up, as the number went down to 98. "You've managed to kill 1 of just 99 lives, which is definitely impressive for scum like you."

"Ni-Ninety-nine!?" Skidmark said in shock.

"Didn't you hear me earlier?" Genm remarked as he began spinning the violet device around. "I'll clear this game, even if I have to use continues!" He then proceeded to slam the device into some sort of holster on his right side before pressing a button.

"Kimewaza! MIGHTY CRITICAL STRIKE!"

Purple and blue energy slowly began to form around Genm's right leg as he slowly walked towards the dazed Merchants, the walk slowly turning into a dash as the Cape ran towards the Merchants. In a panic, Skidmark attempts to jump ship, quickly exiting the vehicle, but at that point it was too late. Genm threw a roundhouse kick at the vehicle, striking at the engine and causing the entire vehicle to explore in an orange glitchy fiery explosion. The various drugged Capes flung across the floor, shrapnel flying and striking them in their limbs, giving them wounds and intense pains throughout their bodies, while Genm simply stood there unharmed.

Smoke eventually filled the area, and Miss Militia whom had been watching the whole thing in shock, quickly comes onto the scene in an attempt to reach the new Cape that had devastated the Merchants. However, once the smoke faded away, the purple Tinker was gone, no trace of him ever being here except for the damage he had done to the Merchants.

As fellow Cape Armsmaster soon arrived on the scene, Miss Militia walked towards the wreckage of the truck to examine the area, most of the flames having now died out.

As she walked closer to the area, she noticed something poking out of the wreckage of the area. Morphing her weapon into a shovel, she used it to move away the rubble out, to reveal a charred body in the wreckage. Standing down next to it, there were no signs of there being any sort of modifications to the body, or of any sort of symptoms indicative of illnesses, so it was likely that the body was not trapped. Said body resembled a 30-year old Japanese man with a basic grey suit with a violet undershirt and black jeans with black dress shoes, the fire scarring most of his face.

While normally one would have marked this individual as dead, considering the Cape's remarks earlier, it was possible that he possessed some sort of Breaker like Alabaster with the ability to 'revive' himself a set amount of times, though this was merely speculation on her part.

"Report Miss Militia?" Armsmaster asked, having finished tying up the downed Merchants and currently waiting for the PRT Vans to arrive.

"A new Cape dubbed Genm had entered a scene, wearing some sort of violet armor." Miss Militia explained. "I've given him both a Tinker rating and a Breaker rating due to his ability to seemingly create a new body upon death, which the Parahuman has claimed to only occur a limited amount of times."

"Hmm... Any other possible information?"

"Yes, assuming this claim to be accurate," she continued as she pointed towards the wreckage, "then this body may possibly be indicative of his true appearance, though that's assuming any new body his power makes is a exact duplicate like in the case of Oni Lee. If this claim is true, then this may be troubling. While I am unsure of the Cape's standing, he possesses Tinkertech capable of altering the landscape and of knocking Parahumans unconscious with ease without needing to fatally damage them."

"Very well, I'll take this into consideration." Armsmaster said as he looked over the scene. As he did, he could not help but wonder as to what kind of genius would have been gifted with a Power such that they could not only create effective armor while evading capture for so long, if they were new, but with an ability to come back from the dead a set amount of times?

The mad genius grinned as his computer displayed the fine handiwork his Critical Strike had done to the Merchants, the Bugster virus slowly prorogating throughout their body.

A fitting end for such scum was the thought that ran through his head, though fortunately for them he had no intention of letting those Merchants die.

No, with his specialized 'finisher', the virus should reach a point in the near future where eventually the Bugsters will manifest from the bodies, which he can then use as test subjects to test his newly developed Gashats on.

Already, he had determined a candidate that he could have use the particular Gashat he was working on, "Beastmon GO". He grinned as he saw that his plan was coming to fruition.

This world, this Earth Bet... It was clear that without geniuses like him, the world has in a sense regressed to an era of strife and conflict, and that these Shards that fueled their powers have merely further enhanced the chaos of this world.

These so-called villains running amok, these so-called heroes failing in their duties to protect the people, it was clear that the planet needed a wake-up call.

Were he like any other Kamen Rider, then his main reason for doing this would be because its the right thing to do. Unfortunately, that wasn't it at all.

His only reason for helping this world was very simple really.

"As the one that will herald a new era," he said to himself, a constant reminder of his new quest. "I shall soon bring forth a new age of life, one that must be unhindered by these low-level players incapable of seeing the bigger picture. Once I rid this world of its filth, I can truly revolutionize it into a new era! That is the path chosen by I, DAN KUROTO"

[artificialqueens]

Galactica, Chapter 4 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Thank you so much to anyone who’s liked or commented. You guys are awesome! We are attempting to post a chapter a week, so hopefully we can keep that up for awhile! Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Violet’s living situation was about to improve, and she got to spend some quality time with Pearl.

This Chapter: Fame begins to doubt the new collection, and Violet finally gets into her new apartment--with some surprising new neighbors.

***

Fame groaned as she finally managed to open the front door to the Galactica floor after fumbling with her keycard for what felt like forever.

The floor was dark, but as Fame walked past the reception desk, the automatic light turned on.

There was no one there, all of the employees at home since it was barely past 7 am. Fame didn’t usually show up until after 9, having her mornings with Patrick and walking her dog herself an important part of starting her day right, but sometimes Fame preferred the quiet.

There was a certain peace in an empty office, and she desperately needed the peace.

She walked down the corridor, passing by the ever-expanding clothing racks that seemed to grow like cockroaches on the hallways, someone always working on something in one of the offices.

Fame was normally not one for contemplation, her heart always telling her where to go, but what she had seen of their own collection yesterday had left a strange sensation in the pit of her stomach.

She had been so happy when they had conceptualized it, had been so excited to see it go into production, but now that she had it, now that Trixie could present piece after piece of physical clothing, Fame had a nagging feeling that it was not good enough, not good enough at all.

She turned the corner and stopped when she saw that the light was on in her office and the front office where Violet resided.

As she walked closer, she saw Violet sitting at her desk, steam coming from a takeaway cup and Fame recognized the vanilla scent of her morning order. She had actually wondered how Violet always had a hot cup ready, and it seemed like the clever girl simply ordered multiples every single day.

Violet nibbled on an apple, her feet tucked underneath her as she tapped away on her keyboard, the printer spitting out a chunk of paper every once in a while.  

Before Fame knew it, she had spent several minutes just standing there, observing Violet go about her workday before anyone else had even come in.

Just then, Violet looked up, almost dropping her apple when she saw Fame standing in the door. She jumped up from her chair, and Fame had to hide a smile when she saw that Violet was wearing sneakers with her Prada dress.

“Miss!” Violet maneuvered around her desk. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize you would be here this early.” Fame handed Violet her jacket, the other woman quickly hanging it up.

“Is there any news about my new assistant?” Fame took the coffee from the table. It wasn’t scalding hot like she preferred it, but she wasn’t inclined to wait while her assistant got her another one.

“Yes.” Violet nodded, grabbing a stack of papers from the printer, and Fame realized she had probably been printing resumes. “We should be ready to bring in some candidates by next Tuesday.”

“Good-” Fame held her hand out, taking the stack. “I expect you to pre-interview each and every one of them before I see them.” She wanted a competent assistant, and had no intention of suffering through the first round of the blubbering fools HR always seemed to think would be appropriate for her. “Remember, only perfection is acceptable.”

***

Violet’s eyes were resting on Raja and Fame in the rearview mirror. They were in a town car, Violet instantly climbing into the front with the driver. Violet never spoke unless she was spoken to, her presence in the car only required in case she would be needed.

It was fascinating to watch Raja and Fame interact. They had worked together for so long that it seemed like they knew each other inside and out. It was as if they shared a creative mind, and had an intimate understanding of exactly what the other one was talking about.

Normally, Violet would be listening in, imagining what her own professional life could maybe be one day, but today, however, Violet was thoroughly distracted.

She was so happy, so relieved, to be moving, that she could almost dance in her seat. Yesterday, when she had been sent the pictures of the vacant apartment, she’d nearly cried with joy. It was beautiful - a small but perfect one-bedroom with a sweet little kitchen, central air, sparkling new bathroom fixtures, and even a French balcony. It was so far beyond anything she’d imagined she might have for years and years.

The fact that she was going to be packing all night in order to be ready for the movers tomorrow at noon didn’t bother her in the slightest.

Burning bridges was something Violet was used to, and she couldn’t wait to set this one on fire

“Violet-” Fame’s voice broke through Violet’s daydream of the strongly-worded email she’d send to her landlord. “Violet, have you gone deaf?”

“No Miss. Sorry.”

“I need a pen.”

Violet reached into her bag, Fame acknowledging her only to take it, and then it was back to being invisible as Fame turned her attention to Raja.

This time, however, Violet couldn’t help but listen.

“I realize that you don’t agree-” Fame put the pen to the sketches she and Raja were looking at, “but don’t you think that the lines are too jarring?” Fame did a small correction, the emeralds on her fingers shining in the light. “And this color story, the more I look at it, the more I-”

Violet knew she wasn’t supposed to listen, but she reached into her bag, grabbing her phone, sending a quick left hand text to Trixie.

Fame worried abt collection dislikes colors v v weird vibe

It felt like going behind her boss’s back, but Violet knew Fame well enough to pick up on the note in her voice, in the furrow between her brows.

“Fame, darling,” Raja put a hand on Fame’s knee, her gold bangles clicking together, her tan skin standing out against the creamy white of Fame’s skirt. “You do this to yourself every time,” Raja soothed, her voice surprisingly soft. “It’s all beautiful. We’ll go back to the office, we’ll have a cup of tea, and you’ll see-”

“Don’t patronize me,” Fame snapped, pulling her knee away from Raja’s grasp.

“Don’t act crazy.” Raja rolled her eyes. “I hate to see you stress over something that will be magnificent.”

It seemed like Raja had completely forgotten that Violet was in the car, her ability to make herself invisible once again biting her in the ass since she was pretty sure she wasn’t supposed to see this display of affection.

“Bianca would agree that something isn’t right,” Fame huffed slightly, crossing her arms, and Violet stifled a tiny laugh.

Bianca Del Rio was editor-in-chief of Marie Claire, one of Fame and Raja’s dearest friends, and possibly the scariest person Violet had ever met. Anyone who thought Fame was too tough would probably just wither and die within 30 seconds of being around Bianca. What amused Violet was that her boss treated the infamous hard-ass like she was the sweetest, most adorable person in the universe.

“Well, Bianca doesn’t work here,” Raja countered, adding, “Thank god.” She leaned her head on her hand, a teasing glint in her eyes.

Fame pursed her lips, turning to look out the window, and Raja seemed to change tactics.

She slung an arm around Fame’s shoulder, her voice sugary sweet. “Why don’t you join us for dinner tonight?” Raja tugged on one of Fame’s golden earrings, the emeralds on it matching her ring. “Raven promised she wouldn’t cook.”

“Thanks,” Fame chuckled, “but no thanks. I promised Patrick I would pay him attention for the first time all week.”

“Fair enough,” Raja sat back up. “Have a nice night with your husband. Have a few drinks and forget that I exist over the weekend.” Raja smirked. “I have plans of my own anyway.”

***

Bianca rolled over as her phone buzzed on the nightstand, reaching over Derrick’s sleeping form to answer it. The fact that she was still awake, obsessing over the new printing contracts, didn’t change the fact that it was far too late (or too early) for any rational person to be calling.

There were only two people it might be, and she prayed that it wasn’t Adore, because she was not in the mood for whatever shenanigans her baby sister might have gotten herself into this time. Glancing at the screen, she let out a sigh of half relief, half irritation when she saw that it was Fame. And worse, she was FaceTiming.

“Hey Blondie. What’s wrong?” Bianca answered, voice hoarse.

“Why would something be wrong?” asked Fame, blue-gray eyes widening innocently.

“Well, it’s 3 am. So if nothing’s wrong, I’m gonna hang up and we can resume when the sun comes up…”

“Wait!” Fame said, then furrowed her brow, asking, “Who’s that?”

Bianca glanced at the tousled blonde head beside her.  

“That’s Derrick.”

“Uh huh, and why haven’t I met her?”

“We’re not at that point yet,” Bianca told her, tilting the phone down and lifting the covers. “But if you really want, you can meet her ass.”

Bianca moved the phone closer, flash lighting up Derrick’s ass in a pair of boy-cut red panties.

“Bianca!” Derrick shrieked, slapping her hand away. “What the fuck?!”

“Nevermind, her ass isn’t in the mood.”

“Really, Bianca,” Fame clucked. “That poor girl.”

“Ugh!” Derrick moved over, unamused, putting a pillow over her head to block out the noise.

“So, blondie...you gonna tell me what this is about? Cause if not, I should really get to sleep. Rest my weary tongue.” Bianca grinned lasciviously at her, dimples deep in her cheeks.

After a moment, when she saw that Fame was neither laughing nor giving her a disapproving pout, she sat up, rubbing her eyes.

“Seriously, Fame. Are you okay?” she asked, voice a bit softer.

“Yeah...I’m…” Fame sighed slightly, leaning her head on the arm of the sofa. “I just feel a bit...unsettled.”

“Unsettled about what?” Bianca asked. “Would this by any chance have to do with Fashion Week coming up?”

“Of course,” Fame said with a slight chuckle. “I should be feeling great. I mean, we’re ahead of schedule, for once, and everyone seems to love the direction, but I just...it feels a bit off.”

“What does Raja think?”

“Raja loves it the most, she thinks I’m crazy.”

“Well. You are. But you also have spot-on creative instincts, so maybe this is a time to trust yourself?” Bianca said.

“Mmmh.”

“Okay how’s this...tomorrow morning, once I get rid of Derrick here, I’ll pick up a couple bottles of Veuve and some fresh-squeezed orange juice, head over to your place, and we can spend the whole morning drinking mimosas and ripping the collection to shreds. What do you say?”

“Do I really have to wait until the morning?”

“Fraid so, blondie. Liquor stores are closed right now,” Bianca laughed.

“Well then, I say, great plan.”

“Perfect. So now can I fuckin’ sleep?” Bianca asked, an affectionate smile on her face.

Fame smiled back, nodding.

“Thank you, B.”

“Anytime.”  

***

As Violet closed the door behind her, she couldn’t help but leave out a giant sigh of relief.

The movers had finished in record time, everything going smoother than she had dared to imagine, though she knew a big part of the seamless move was due to her barely owning any furniture.

Violet had never bothered to buy a bedframe for her last apartment, not that there would have been any space for it in the room she had rented anyway, so all she owned was a twin mattress, a sewing table that sometimes served as a desk and a single chair.

What did take up Violet’s space was all of her sewing equipment. The overlocker and sewing machine, who had been her trusted college companions, were sitting on top of her table while her embroidery frame and her mannequins were lying in a pile besides the big garbage bags she used to store her leftover fabric.

The apartment had a miniature walk-in closet, and Violet couldn’t wait to hang up her clothes, two racks holding all of her pieces.  

Violet fished her work phone out of her bag. She unlocked it, the empty screen causing her to bite her lip. Violet would never prefer to be interrupted during the weekend, but there wasn’t a single text, voice memo or email from Fame. It was strange however, when taken into consideration how anxious she’d seemed the day before, and while Violet had no hard facts to lean against, she was still bracing for a storm.

Violet was pulled out of her thoughts by three hard, quick knocks on her door. She wasn’t expecting anyone, so she opened it curiously to find a grinning Katya and mischievous looking  Max, holding a basket full of tea, candles and a pastry Violet couldn’t place, the small cakes glistening with honey.

“Welcome to the building!” Katya exclaimed, flashing those blindingly white teeth.

“We’re so happy to have you join us,” Max added kindly, holding out the large basket.

“Umh…” Violet took the basket, too unsure to decide what leg she should stand on. “Hello?”

“Can we come in?” Katya smiled, holding up a flask. “I brought tea!”

“Oh, sure, but I don’t-” Violet wanted to say that she didn’t have a seat for them, but Katya was already making her way inside, Max following right behind her.

“Trixie would have come too, but he’s a bit in the weeds at the moment.” Katya put her thermos down on Violet’s kitchen counter, apparently not fazed at all by the lack of furniture as she pulled paper cups out of her bag, “tearing his hair out coming up with new ideas in case you’re right about Fame’s freak-out.”

“Shit-” Violet froze. She had only meant for the text to be helpful, to sooth her own anxiety over the look she had seen on Fame’s face. “I hope I didn’t-”

“No no, don’t worry.” Katya smiled, taking the basket back and putting that on the table too. “He’d much rather freak out now than when Fashion Week is closer.” Katya put one of the cakes on a little napkin she had pulled up from somewhere. “Medovik? Max?”

“Yes please.” Max smiled, taking the napkin Katya offered.

“Violet?”

“Thank you.” Violet took it, knowing for sure that she wasn’t going to eat all of it, her stomach too tight with worry about Trixie. She bit into it, the taste of honey exploding in her mouth. They all ate together, Katya chatting away while Max walked over to the rack beside her sewing table.

“What’s that?” Max pointed with a finger at a half-open garment bag.

“That?” Violet felt a warm glow spread in her body. “It’s my graduation project.” Violet put down her napkin, a giant smile on her face as she walked over. “Do you want to see it?” Violet touched the bag, the grey plastic crinkling between her fingers.

“Yes please!” Katya smiled brightly, Max nodding excitedly.

Violet pulled the dress out, a whoosh of excitement rushing through her. The dress was a floor length see-through gown, dripping in violet jewels, the glittering pieces covering the breasts and pouring out in an elegant waterfall down the skirt.

“Oh god, it’s gorgeous!” Katya clapped, and Violet nodded.

“I went for a bit of a neo-Victorian take.” Violet touched the shoulders and hips that were jutting out, both supported by beige boning. “I realised it might seem derivative to use violet, but it’s one of my favorite colors-”

“With good reason.” Max had stood up, the man now at Violet’s side as he reached out, gently touching the skirt.

“I can’t believe you made this.” Katya had joined them as well, the two of them standing side by side.

“I wanted to use real amethysts,” Violet supported the fabric, catching the setting sun in the stones, “but I didn’t have the budget. It was a pain in the ass to stitch all that plastic on.”

“Wait, you did this yourself?” Katya looked shocked. “It’s not prejeweled?”

Violet wanted to snort, or at least huff, the idea that she’d ever use prejeweled fabric actually kind of insulting.

“That must have taken weeks.”

“Believe me, it did.

“Wow.” Katya smiled. “That’s really dedicated. Fame sure is lucky to have you!”

***

“Shit-” Violet muttered under her breath as she tried to grab her keys. She could feel plastic dig into her elbow, her grocery bag heavy with all the things she had purchased.

She had only meant to get some rolled oats and a few emergency boxes of instant mashed potatoes, but when she had actually entered the store, Violet had made the realization that for the first time in her adult life, she had a kitchen that was entirely her own.

“I got it!” Violet heard the beep of the door opening as someone behind her swiped their key fob. She glanced over her shoulder to say thank you, only to bump into the last person she had ever expected to see on an early Sunday morning.

Pearl Liaison was standing right behind her, a surprised expression on her face that probably mirrored Violet’s own.

Pearl was wearing what was clearly last night’s outfit, her blonde hair collected in a braid down her back, the snow white globes of her small breasts boosted by a black corset.

Violet was frozen in place, shocked, as Pearl moved closer to her, an arm snaking over her shoulder.

“Hey Vivi.”

Was this real life? Was Pearl about to kiss her? Violet swore she could feel Pearl’s breasts against her own, their bodies touching.

But instead of a kiss, the blonde grabbed the door handle and pushed, tossing Violet an airy smile and gesturing for her to enter.

“Ladies first,” she said.

Still stunned, Violet let out an embarrassed scoff, saying, “You’re a lady, too.”

“Debatable,” Pearl replied with a grin, following her into the lobby. “So…I wondered if you’d be joining us here. When did you move in?”

“Yesterday.” Violet bit her lip.

“Ah. Awesome.” Pearl smirked. Violet swore she could feel Pearl’s eyes on her body, the woman smelling of tequila and cigarettes, the scent of sex lingering just underneath.

She lowered her eyes as Pearl brushed by her to climb the stairs, needing a moment to catch her breath. She tried to keep it together as last night’s skirt clung to Pearl’s ass. Before she disappeared around the corner, Pearl turned back to give Violet another cheeky grin.

“See you around, pumpkin.”

[firststranding]

Higgs' Choice - wip excerpt

898 words - gen (sam/higgs in the finished work) - mature

cw: suicidal ideation, canon typical existential crisis, spoilers for higgs in general

Higgs has a lot to think about while he's waiting to die. Especially when one of his biggest regrets most dangerous enemies drops her bag by his head.

-------

Fragile’s offer of a choice is a joke - a damn funny one, too. Sure, he’s a proud man, but even Higgs can laugh at the dark, ironic humor. He has to. The sound tears itself from his throat without his permission, broken and manic in all the same ways he is.

“Listen up, Higgs. I got a proposition for you,” she grits out. A twisted echo of his own words. The venom in her voice is impressive, though not surprising. He earned it, after all. All he can do now is wait on his knees for the choices she will present when she turns to face him.

“Do you want to live out your days in a prison of your own failure, or would you rather take your failure into your own hands?” she asks on cue, her accented voice as hard and cold as the stones under his knees. She doesn’t summon his cocky saunter as she approaches and somewhere deep in his tiny, withered heart he finds a shred of pride in her for that. That slow, measured stalk suits her better anyway. When she doesn’t continue, he tries to pick up the slack it’s his line, after all.

“Get to the point,” he rasps out. Broken ribs send out shockwaves of pain in protest and he snaps his jaw shut. The bone shifts and grinds in a way that doesn’t hurt so much as it sends a shiver of sheer wrongness down his spine. Fuck him then, he didn’t need to chew his food anyway. Briefly, he entertains the mental image of his broken jaw opening and unhinging like a snake’s to swallow Fragile whole. Manages something close to a smirk at the thought.

She doesn’t speak again until she’s standing just in front of him, towering over his muddy, kneeling form in her pristine uniform. There’s no way to feel dignified and he doesn’t have the energy to put on a show either, so he just meets her cold eyes as she looks down on him. Loathing burns in his chest. Whether it is for her or himself is a question he doesn’t care to examine.

“If you want to live, all you have to do is stay here,” she finally explains. “However, if you don’t fancy wandering the beach alone for the rest of eternity, then you’ll have to put this gun to your head and pull the trigger yourself.”

And there it is. The catch. That’s when the laughter tears from his chest, even as black tears roll down his cheeks. She doesn’t say anything else after that, because what else is there to say? Fragile looked at Higgs, with his thick eyeliner, gold-striped cloak, and raging god complex, and saw right through the mask to the too-proud, too-scared man underneath. Both options are equally crushing.

While he is blinded by his options, Fragile turns her back and walks away. The gun she leaves on the wet sand couldn’t land hit on Sam the goddamn bastard, Amelie’s favorite, somehow more perfect than Higgs could ever be now that Amelie is protecting him and even worse… fuck, he doesn’t even want to try. The realization hits him in the chest as hard as Sam’s boots had.

He sure as hell wouldn’t fire on Fragile - and didn’t he prove that already? Even when she threatened to fuck up the grand plan he couldn’t destroy her with his own two hands. That’s something he’ll think about some other time, which punches a pained laugh out of him because time doesn’t exist here. He’ll have eternity to dwell on his reasons for loving that strange, broken woman so goddamn much.

Shooting Amelie has never been an option, never will be, that’s kind of the whole point. Love isn’t the right word for that. It’s terror, if he has to be honest - which he never is, with himself or otherwise. The sort of fear that gripped him like so many tar-black hands dragging him into an endless pit. Amelie is endless. Inescapable. Raising a gun to her is like… well, like throwing a nuke into a tar pit. Pointless. A waste of firepower. It’s far easier to just embrace the inevitability. And if he got to feed from that intoxicating, endless well of power? That was just a little perk.

But Sam? Oh, he’s been ready to kill Sam since Amelie first mentioned his name. Her warm tone and sad smile, the way she beamed with pride every time little Sammy Porter connected one more dot, it all made him want to retch. People were proud of him, once. This battle on the beach had been his chance to finish off the insufferable cockroach. So why? Even as Higgs reaches out to lift the rifle off of the sand, he knows that he won’t try.

It doesn’t matter. Even if it does, it won’t for now, he decides that and thinks it into becoming the truth. What matters is that Fragile has given him two options: death or stranding. There are only a handful of bullets left and infinite grains of sand under his knees. He raises the gun, eyes fixed on the horizon, where the colorless ocean waters meet the grey of the sky.

Higgs pulls the trigger. The bullets meant for his brain disappear into the distance.

(visit me on ao3 @ kittleimp to read the finished piece when it is published!)

[ornament-incarnate]

The grim, grinning skull of a recently deceased Fallen stares back at him balefully, and Ornate-7 stares back defiantly. 

Death has never bothered him before, not really- they’re Guardians, and even if the death hurts, it doesn’t ever really stick, doesn’t.. linger. Guardians can die, he knows, logically, but it’s never been at the forefront of his mind, before.

People, regular people, die all the time.

Cayde-6 being gone is still a fresh wound, salted and dug into with dirty fingers. And those Fallen, Uldren, all smug in their victory, think they can hide from him- no. No, that’s not how this works. Even if it is a suicide mission, even if he marches, a one man army to his own demise, unbacked by the Vanguard, march on he will. This cluster of asteroids, damp and dark, cold and empty, hide away all sorts of low lives and thugs and nobodies. Cockroaches, and Hive, and the stray groups Red Legion that he picks off to keep his skills sharp.

No, death has never bothered him before. But this? This is personal.

He realizes, belatedly, that he’s begun to grind his top and bottom denta together, jaw making a low whining noise in the joints. Gotta cut that out before it gives him away.

Ornate-7 is a Warlock, a studier, even if his preferred method is by field study. Books can only teach so much, after all. Warlocks, however, tend to dress a very particular way; all bundled and wrapped in belts and bands. These days, he dresses like a Hunter, all hoods and cloaks. His Hunter partner, Bunn-13, used to say that he was more buckle than man. Bunn-13.. damn, he misses him, fiercely, and with a sudden intensity that makes him duck behind a rock and crack open his vents to dispel the heat of bitter frustration and anger. He misses them all, really, Bunn-13’s snark, Zavala’s calm knitting, and Ikora’s low tone, and Cayde-6’s- Cayde. He allows himself the sting of failure and loss so painful his systems stall, optics gone dim in grief, but only for a few moments. Every minute gone past is another minute he loses the trail, and he can only stay in one spot for so long before another patrol of Fallen come creeping out of the walls like the bugs they are to investigate the gun fire.

Not that he’s worried. No.. no, he has nothing to worry about at all. After all, he came out here for revenge for Cayde-6, and everyone knows what they say about revenge.

Dig one grave for your target, and one grave for you, and right now, Ornate is already one boot in. He’ll be damned if he doesn’t drag Uldren into the dirt with him and bury them both under the rubble of the devastation he’s going to leave in his wake. He should be scared, he thinks, of this vehement death wish he’s got, but he can’t bring himself to care. For Cayde-6? For Cayde-6 he’s going to bring Justice at the end of his gun or else follow Cayde on the way out of this infested mockery of an ecosystem.