#cw: brief death

[canisalbus]

r.e. that last ask, did machete whimper when he died? was he permitted one last moment of softness? or did he snarl, forever known to the world as hard and cold?

The first stab had collapsed his left lung so I think he most likely tried to cough and wheeze feebly because he was struggling to get enough air.

[sabo-torao]

REVOLUTIONARY ARMY POV SWITCH SOON??? DRAGON IS MOVING???? KOALAAA????

[marshmurmurs]

remember when velara's altars made use of a dagger? good times. he did not think to put the dagger down before going to sippy on the potion. the gods all agree it was a skill issue

[uniquevoidflowers]

CW: Blood, Character Death (mostly mentioned but you can tell from the beginning)

“Papa?” Link called with a trembling voice as he hurried to the still figure on the ground. 

He saw the spreading of something red underneath Papa, staining everything it touched. “Don’t sleep yet. It’s not bedtime yet.”

He got no reply, just the breeze in his ears, rustling bushes and the leaves on the ground that crunched against the weight of Link’s feet. The boy sat down next to his father, tapping the man’s shoulder repeatedly, waiting for his eyes to flutter open but they remained shut. When nothing worked, he sat down and nestled himself in his father’s incredibly loose arms, tears stinging his eyes at the cold embrace. “It’s okay, Papa. I can wait.”

He heard a cry, but he just gripped his father’s bloody sleeve tightly. “The boy looks alive!” Someone shouted.

He glanced over at an unfamiliar man and curled more defensively into his father’s cold, but safe-feeling arms. “It’s okay, I’m not here to hurt you,” The man promised. “Are you hurt?” 

“No,” Link mumbled. 

“…Well I’m Rusl, kid. Can you come back to my village with me?” 

“Are you one of the bad people?”

“Not at all. I promise.”

The boy reluctantly got out but refused to leave without Papa. He just needed some help waking up. Rusl chewed his lip before offering to bring him too, and Link agreed. Some other man picked Papa up, out of the red on the ground and Rusl brought him to a village. “He’s already gone,” The man carrying Papa sighed.

“Sweet Ordonia…What do we do?” 

“Take him home for now, I’ll ask the mayor.”

Link felt warmth as he saw the interior of a house and he looked around. Soon a woman came around the corner and spotted him. “Hey there buddy.”

“Hey…Where’s Papa?” Link turned to Rusl with his eyes squinted.

“I’ll tell you later,” Rusl decided after a moment. “Kid, this is my wife, Uli.”

Uli hummed, narrowing her gaze at Rusl but smiling slightly at the boy. “And what’s your name?” 

“Link!”

“Link, why don’t you go play over in that room? We have some toys there that I’m sure you’d like.”

“Okay.”

He obliged but heard their hushed voices anyway. Mama always said he had amazing hearing. 

“Uli, we found this kid in the forest in what was supposedly his father’s arms. The father’s dead, so I took him here for the meanwhile.”

“Oh my…”

“Yes. The kid insisted his Papa was…sleeping. He…doesn’t know yet.”

“This is horrible. What are we going to do about him?”

“I still haven’t thought this through, Uli, but would it be too much to adopt him if he has no other parent elsewhere?”

Adopt…him? Papa’s…dead? Like Mama?

Link screamed.

                       ————————

Link woke up with a jolt, a sob tearing its way out of his throat but as soon as he gathered his bearings he sighed shakily. Twilight saw his cub leaned into his side and swallowed back any more tears.

It had been awhile since he remembered that day. 

He barely remembered anything about his biological parents—only that day when his Papa died. He didn’t know if that was for better—or worse.

He felt eyes on him and looked over to see the Sky on watch, staring at him. He brought himself up, careful not to wake up the champion and walked over to the skyloftian and sat next to him. There was a few moments of blessedly peaceful silence. “Nightmare?” Sky spoke up softly.

“Yeah,” Twilight hummed, turning his gaze back to the ground. 

Oh, yeah, he hadn’t remembered any of the heroes mentioning parents. Were they all orphans? He turned to Sky whose eyes glowed with the reflection of starlight. “Do you have any parents?” 

“They died when I was a child,” Sky admitted quietly. “My father was a knight of Skyloft, according to Sun and he went on a mission once…and never came back…I do remember him. I don’t remember my mother though, she died way before then. Illness, Headmaster Gaepora tells me.” 

“…I’m sorry for your loss.”

“And I’m sorry for yours,” Sky put a hand on his shoulder, a knowing look in his eyes. 

“…thanks.”

[shadedheart138]

The Blood We Shed, It Never Dries

His hand cradled the back of his brother's head, gentle and firm and there. He whispered a curse, a prayer, a promise of love. His voice wavered, broke. He began to cry, soft at first and then louder, louder, until he was crying and sobbing and holding his brother like the most precious of treasures, the most holy of all holy things. Cradling him as of he were a child, something sacred, something to be cherished. Should be be cherished? Did he deserve it, after all this time?

His brother certainly seemed to think so, whispering how he was so sorry, he was so, so scared, and how much relief he had felt to see him alive. Alive, alive, alive.

He didn't feel alive. He felt hollow, he felt small. He was small, in his brother's arms. Something fell out of his limp hands as his brother sank to the dusty, bloody ground with him in his grasp. He didn't look at it, it didn't seem to matter. Was he alive? Did he deserve to be?

He blinked slowly, hearing his brother's sobbing through water. His head hurt. He was thirsty. He wanted to cry, but he was too tired. He wanted to wrap his arms around his brother, this man, this simple, loving, amazing man who was larger than life, who was his rock, his shelter, his home. But his arms were too small, made of lead. He couldn't even lift his head.

Was his breath getting shorter? Or was he just tired? Was it evening into sleep, or was he dying? He couldn't tell, and that made him panic. His breath sped. Good, not dying.

But once it sped, it didn't slow. His brother gave him a worried look, then a soft call of his name. A firmer hug. His breath continued to speed, gasping like a fish out of water. Maybe he was dying. Maybe this was it. Why when he realized it, was there such a profound fear? Did his friends feel this fear when they died? His eyesight was blurry- ah, there were the tears he'd been too tired to cry.

" ... 'M dyin'." He slurred quietly, chest shuddering- was it with final breaths, or sobs?

"Oh, honey. You're not dying." His brother said, with a teary laugh. "Not dying at all. You had me convinced you were going to, but you didn't. You're safe and sound right here."

He looked to the side, and could catch a glimpse of blood and a limb and someone's face, a bandanna, a boomerang, an eye - before his face was gently directed away and back to his brother's chest, holding him there, caging protecting him.

"Who-?" He croaked, bringing hands up to grasp at his brother, his rock, his lifeline. His parent.

"No one you know. Not one of us. Not Tune, not me. Not Tune, not anyone you need to worry yourself with." Names. Oh, those existed. Kokiri didn't bother with names, they only had them when Link was there.

He wasn't Kokiri anymore. And he wasn't Link.

"... T'ne's 's safe?" Mask slurred, blinking slowly, grasping a little less tight at the Captain's shirt. One hand lost its grip and fell, before Mask sluggishly tried to get it back up and latched onto the Captain again.

"He's safe." His brother easy lied, keeping this child, his child, his brother, his son, in the sweet and blissful dark. Mask didn't need to see the Sailor yet. No one did. No one would see this field but Mask and Captain Link, Mask made sure of that.

"Good." Mask whispered, eyes fluttering. He was so, so sleepy. For once, he didn't snap at the Captain for holding him so dearly. He was tired. It felt nice. Tune was safe. Where was he?

"T'ne?? Tune?" Mask whispered, mouth full of cotton, as he tried calling for his brother. Wars gave him a sad look, with both joy and grief in his eyes. Who was the joy for, and more importantly, who was the grief for? "Shhhh, dear. He won't answer right now."

Mask shuddered. There was something the Captain wasn't telling him, wasn't there. He knew that look, that crinkle in his brow. He could see early gray hairs at his right temple, and he reached to touch. His hand was covered in blood. Was it his own???

Mask startled and pulled his hand back, leaving a very small, bloody handprint on the Captain's face. He was about to whisper an apology, but Captain Link cut him off. "Shhh, shh. Shh. It's not yours, it's not mine. I've got you. How about you take a nap, hmm? I'll get you all washed up and you can sleep?"

Sleep sounded phenomenal. But there was a part of the Captain missing, it was clear. Maybe multiple parts. At least a single visible one.

"... Sc'rf?" Mask fingered the edge of Captain Link's collar, leaving blood there. "You wouldn't want to see it now. All dirty. I'll get it cleaned."

"Mom?" Mask whispered, sniffling. "Wh'r's T'ne?" He wanted his brother. Tune's hands were warm and his hair smelled like salt and his eyes were sea green. Captain's were cold, too big, gripping tight, as if afraid Mask would disappear. Tune would know what to say.

"Don't worry, honey. Just sleep, okay? Just take a nap. We can worry about it later." Treating it as if it were another bloody spot on his tunic. Mask wanted to ask more, wanted to cry, to call out for Tune again... but his eyes closed. "L've you Mom." He whispered quietly, not noticing the way The Captain looked over the destruction before him. "I love you too, Mask. Get some sleep."

The Captain laid his son, his brother, his kid down on the dusty ground and moved to his other one. The one that wasn't moving, and wouldn't. Only sixteen. A giant scarf draped over him, like a burial shroud. Warriors held a limp hand, the only part of his other kid he could bear to look at.

"I'm so, so sorry, Tune. So sorry. I love you. Mask loves you, and he's sorry. He won't know how you died. Only I will. And I'm sorry for that. But he doesn't need to kill himself to attempt to make it right. I can't lose both of you. Losing you is hell enough. I love you." And he kissed the place where Tune's forehead was supposed to be, covered by bloody cloth.

Link went back to his currently sleeping child, hands curled up, only nine, unaware of the grief and destruction around him. Link stepped on the cursed, bloody, wooden mask as he went by, cracking it clean in two and then picking up his child. It wasn't Mask's fault. It was his namesake's.

He didn't hear the god scream in pain from it's vessel being broken. Mask curled up tighter in Link's arms and started to whine, covering his ears. He could hear. Link helped cover them.

Then he carried him home.

fin.

[rwac96]

DB: R&R - History of Ranch by IsabellaFaleno

(source: deviantART)

[ghostie000]

how do i say i want armand to tell me to rest without someone calling a crisis response team

[elithilanor]

For the ask game:

what are 3 things you'd say shaped you into who you are?

what's an inside joke you have with your family or friends?

what's some good advice you want to share?

For the Ask Game!

What are 3 things you'd say shaped you into who you are?

Friends, places/locations that I've lived (California, San Francisco, etc.), and the experiences that I've had. Very cliché in a way but it's the truth.

What's an inside joke you have with your family or friends?

With my roommate: a very obnoxious fake Jon Snow vibe: "She's ma queen, I don't want it." anytime we don't like or don't want to do something a la the disastrous and just horrendous season 8 of game of thrones. I hope my fanfiction writing is never as bad as that catastrophe.

It's mostly a long list of like variant versions of back and forth echolalia with my roommate because we're both ND and that's just how we roll, honestly.

What's some good advice you want to share?

Here's some medical advice I've had to learn over the last few months through my own issues and fighting to find out what's wrong. Also shout out to the failures of the US's scholastic teachings (mitochondria is the power house of the cell lolol):

Advocate for yourself and remember that you're the only one who will. You don't know medicine maybe, but you know when something isn't working the way it should in your body.

Hydration affects every bodily function including your heart and your dry eyes (omega-3s also affect eyes). Drink water and eat your fruit and veg with higher water content (cucumbers, watermelon, etc.).

If you're a vegetarian, pescetarian, vegan, or just don't consume too many meats and animal products, check if you're vitamin B12 levels (energy) are okay. It's the only way to get them as they aren't produced in the body. Legumes and soy are all fine and dandy for protein, but not B12. B12 is a required nutrient and affects the skin, hair, liver, heart, etc.

If you live in the Pacific Northwest or other far northern climes and/or you don't get out a lot and/or you don't eat a lot of animal byproducts, please check your Vitamin D levels! Also affects heart, brain, skin, etc. Your body does make vit D naturally, but that assumes that you're getting enough time in the sun for you to produce it and that you don't have any underlying issues that affect it's production and/or absorption. Vit D levels also affect your body's calcium intake, which especially for AFAB people, can affect bone health and the likelihood of osteoporosis later in life.

Movement (as much as you can) will keep you alive and your circulation flowing. Even if it's just one part of your body, move it. Stand up and move every half hour if you can.

Sleep matters. Undisturbed sleep matters. Movement helps sleep.

Soreness is okay. Tiredness is okay. Exhaustion, constant fatigue, and long-term pain is an indication that something is wrong.

Stress will kill you.

Different fruits and veg have different nutrients and vitamins that your body needs. Don't just eat the leafy greens because they're "healthiest".

Relationships take work. Not really, "how do I improve and make things better all the time (though this can be important)", but just reaching out and saying "hi how are you" every so often.

If it took you 20 years to get to a point, it's going to take more than a couple of weeks to reverse it.

If your body is telling you to rest and you can, do it.

You spend the latter half of your 20s making adjustments and changes to the life that you've been leading. Everyone goes through this and it's normal. You're a little crazy until the 30s/40s. That's fine. Roll with it. Your life is just getting started.

Life is hard. Life is so hard. It has it's ups and downs. Enjoy that cup of coffee or that cup of tea or 5 min in the sun.

Community matters more.

Stop trying to "better yourself" all the time. You're probably a fine person with fine and great qualities. You can improve, but spend time just being or else life will pass you by and you won't have a lot to say for it.

You're doing better than you think you are.

[kudossi]

carry me to innisfree

She finds herself on a precipice, grass under her paws and gray sky overhead. The smell of salt and the sound of crashing waves fill her senses; her claws dig into sand-strewn soil; her fur lifts with the ocean breeze, strong and stalwart, whipping steadily away from the rising sun. Below her lies ocean, depthless and desperately, achingly blue; beyond her lies water, leaping endlessly toward the golden, rocky shore.

The sun-drown-place, she thinks, and feels at once the age of eight moons and eighty season-cycles. She reaches at once for Feathertail, dead for countless pawsteps; for Tawnypelt, buried seasons ago; for Stormfur, lost to the crags of the mountains; for Crowfeather, who had closed his eyes only moons ago and had never opened them again. She does not reach for Bramblestar; she does not question why. She simply exists, with the ghosts of her friends almost corporeal at her sides, and watches as the wind plays with the waves, salty ocean spray spattering at her paws.

A pale bird swoops overhead, white and soft, feathery gray; with a bolt of delight, Squirrelflight recognizes it as a gull. It had been so long since she had chased them over sand and into the waves, their calls echoing against rocky cliffs. Brambleclaw had snorted, unamused; Feathertail had joined her, swimming through whitecaps and pouncing clumsily on birds until, with the exaggerated air of someone too good for noisy, troublesome birds, she had pulled the largest fish Squirrelflight had ever seen from the waves.

“You look like a drowned rat,” Squirrelpaw had told her, laughing, as Feathertail struggled with a fish bigger than both cats combined.

“Better than looking like a drowned squirrel,” Feathertail had countered, and then Tawnypelt had joined the fray, chasing an odd-looking creature across the shore, all hard shell and hard, straight tail and weird, wiggly, bug-like legs.

“What is this place?” Stormfur had asked, tipping over a bug-prey of his own.

“I don’t know!” Squirrelpaw had replied, delighted, and gotten a mouthful of saltwater for her trouble. She sputtered and spat and dissolved into giggles, lungs seizing and aching and burning, happier than she’d ever been.

[draconicfool]

A Stage of Entertainment

Let's have a refresher course before we get into the meat of it, shall we? It's important to note that Eros' life has essentially always been ruled over by Aeons. From the beginning of his existence, he was touched by Yaoshi and nurtured as a blessed healer. Under their gaze but not quite an Emanator. And let's recall that because of this, Lài Shoi-Ming was essentially executioner aboard the Yuque. That he was treated far differently than perhaps any other High Elder. Kept essentially caged and watched over near constantly. He longed for freedom and a life where he could truly live. And because of this, there would be nights where he would pray to any Aeon who may listen. And there were nights when he'd beg for it all to end. And spurred onward one particular night, when the hunger took him and his guards were disposed of, he'd make a run for it. And it would be during this escape that he would be smiled upon by the Elation, wrapped in that gaze that felt like love.

It's important to note that Aha does not find entertainment in the curse that has been placed upon Eros. No, they find it in the things surrounding him. There's a joy to stealing away another Aeon's favorite plaything. And there is a joy in stealing an important figure away from those that follow yet another different Aeon. In making those who can divine the future and find anything search for what they want. In making something, someone, start over entirely from scratch to see if circumstance made the man. To see how far one would truly go for the sake of Elation.

But of course there's something to be said about knowing the gist of something an understanding it completely. Because they could know of rebirth and the process that the vidyadhara underwent, but not understand it completely. The egg wasn't perfect, nor was it particularly correct. But it got the job done, certainly. If Preceptors could do it, an Aeon certainly could.

And it wasn't like they were making an entirely new person the way actual rebirths did. No, they were merely resetting this one. Albeit in a way that mimicked that of the actual purpose. After all, how else could he remember their gaze so fervently if he were completely wiped clean? The dreams would come as they did for all vidyadhara, but there was no distinction between this and the last life. There was no last life. No barrier between Amatus Bahre and Lài Shoi-Ming the way there ought to be. No him and me. Only myself.

It's something that Eros is acutely aware of. That those memories are not a past life, but a life that is no longer his. Shackles he was freed from. Its why he can recall so accurately everything that happened on the Yuque, even if as far as he's concerned he died that night.

After all, if it were truly rebirth, how would he retain his High Elder features? His magic? How could another High Elder not present themselves? Because one still lives.

And he follows in a search for Elation that he was never given the chance for before.

[muzzleroars]

Hi! I've had this question for a bit, what would have happened if fallen Gabriel had killed V1 during the battle in his tomb? (his first fight as a fallen angel), would he come back to reason after seeing what he did?, would V1 make gestures to say it forgives him before dying?, does Gabriel regret it and freezes with the corpse of V1 in his arms to never move again?.

I hope everything is going okay for you!.

i do think his reaction would be similar to what i talked about before if he were to believe v1 dead - in this instance, i don't know if he would have the capacity to understand what he could do or how he could save it. their time together had been so short, it had changed his life and he knows there had been love in both of them, yet it couldn't be properly expressed before his death. and now. his emotion had consumed him, he had fought without controlling his body, his thoughts, a righteous fury that had finally been enough to overpower the machine. it's stupid, so stupid. it must be his punishment, to fail twice, to lose his light and eventually die for it, only to finally succeed when he truly didn't want to. it was just a mistake. he was hurting and v1 stood before him again, but he couldn't see it. couldn't see anything but his grief. v1, for its part, offered little before its death...except to tell him it was proud he gave it a good fight. it always knew he could best it, that in so many ways v1 simply outmaneuvered him, and so all it wants him to know is that he did well. he won. i think he would freeze up as the damned in treachery do, his tomb now dedicated in his own mind to v1 and the shattered remains he can hold. but. he keeps living. and in that life, blood continues to circulate and to attract other machines to his tomb when blood is so difficult to find in the vast wastes of treachery. at first, he moves only to destroy those that dare trespass on him and v1, breaking free of the ice that locks him otherwise to his throne to tear them apart with little resistance from surprised intruders. but when their bodies are strewn in pieces across the marble floor, he sees them for what they are. spare parts.

BASICALLY really like the idea of him embracing his use of hell energy and the parts he harvests from other machines to reconstruct v1. i did kind of consider something similar to this in the ask about gabriel dying, with v1 augmenting his body with robot parts to see if it could get him back up in a VERY mad scientist kind of way, but without access to something like hell energy i couldn't totally make it work...gabe, however, has some magic to sort of kick start the mind as he repairs the body with his stolen parts. i love him being self-taught in this case, studying v1 and the others he kills to learn what he can (sometimes right, sometimes wrong, sometimes half and half) until he begins to get very particular about how he destroys the machines that come to his tomb. he's sure not to damage parts he needs and does a lot of experimenting to see what might work or what completely doesn't (if he somehow learned about v2, i'm guessing that would be the only time he'd leave his tomb just to see if it has any usable parts since they'd be an exact match)

in the end, i can see both failure and success - in the case of failure, i do think he would try and try for as long as machines come, and he would grieve heavily when they finally disappear. he would ravage his tomb in his pain, destroying it in a fit of mourning to leave it almost as a ruin, until he slowly freezes again to lock in place for a final time. he would hold v1, all the spare parts he had forced into it discarded so that its body isn't marred by his failure. in the case of success, however....v1 hellbeast time!!! similar to angelic v1 but its opposite essentially, pieced together into a patchwork facsimile of a v model and brimming with half-contained hell energy. meaning like. gabriel has somehow made it MORE evil, but i'm 100% sure in this case the madness has taken gabe as well and he can't even really see how it's changed or how he has. they are both creatures of hell now, and they have no issue dispatching angels especially since gabriel is fixated on keeping v1 alive. it's kind of their horror ending, both warped by hell and giving in to its influence to lose what they may once have been, living forever in gabriel's tomb to stalk the surrounding tundra. a haunted house in hell

[iwanttobepersephone]

I remember one time I watched a cgp grey video that talked about defeating death and it just really unnerved me... I couldn't put into words why, but it really really did. I think now I can explain it a little better though, I think it's because death feeds life, and denying death is denying something else's life. Our story cannot ever end, only our conscious perception of it, and to treat that conscious perception as more worthy of survival than the countless number of organisms our bodies could feed, and then their bodies feed, and so on so forth, is just insane to me. Idk why I'm saying this tbh it's just something that clicked in my head. We cannot and must not take without giving, y'know?

[theslowhipster]

I think I'm a Pretty Good:tm: Liar?(Inspired by The People's Joker, kinda (not really)) // Queer Trans Ramblings

I want to write something long and beautiful about my thoughts, but I don't know how it's going to come across. (its definitely long though)

Ever since I started living as myself (and for myself), I've been thinking a lot about art that I've created in the past. How I was a happy kid, but underneath all of that I was angry and upset. Content to be the person everyone expected me to be, but never myself. For example, in 5th grade I wrote a short fantasy story using deadname as my self insert. I never felt any closeness to that name, no one ever really called me by it so I thought that was why it felt wrong. But even for the end of the story I couldn't find any happiness for him.

It wasn't a violent end, and it wasn't even his fault. The carelessness of the dragon he trusted with his life flew too high and he could no longer breathe. I remember my teacher at the time showed concern that something was wrong. Most 9 year olds don't write a story where they are the main character, horrible things happen to them, everything is described as awkward and nonsensical, and then they die. But my parents saw their "son" trying really hard to be happy for them and the consensus was "Garnet's just like that."

There feels like there were so many of those moments, too. "Oh no, Garnet's struggling in school, and she thinks it's because she might have ADHD. Let's get her tested," (slightly paraphrased and with different pronouns, obv.) But, once the only people asked were my parents and teachers who I was told later all said some variant on "yeah she could have it, but she's happy and well adjusted." And obviously I don't blame any of them, I was lying about who I was to make the people I cared about most love me.

I was so desperate to be the person they thought I was when I started to come out about my sexual preferences I did it out of anger to hurt my parents. We never really talked about it after the fact, but I know from talking to one of my sisters that they never really believed it. (Jokes on them, I'm a happily married pansexual in a lesbian relationship now). And this anger stayed with me, this frustration that I couldn't put my finger on. I think its what really soured our whole relationship in my teenage years.

When I left for college I was so happy and excited, I could redefine who I was, for myself this time. But after about 6 months, I started feeling trapped all over again and stopped going to classes. I was still trying to be "Garnet" the son that my parents loved and it was destroying me. Eventually, my behavior got me kicked out of school because I had failed literally every single class I was in for two quarters in a row. Because I missed the freedom that being myself gave me, I was determined to earn that back. So I moved back home, and started going to community college with the goal of being myself. That was the first time since probably Elementary school that I had gotten perfect grades.

Eventually I was able to transfer back to university, and reconnected with my at-the-time girlfriend (now wife <3) and started taking classes for an entirely different degree than the one I had originally intended, thinking this would be what fixed me. The following academic year I got an apartment off campus and got serious about my education. I had done it, I'd become the right version of me. Or at least I thought I had.

I ended up making (what I thought was) a friend during my studies; we were in the same major, liked all the same things, and they felt punk and queer as could be. Exactly the kind of community I had tried to build in high school. We'd talk for hours about nerd culture, the darker sides of the internet, and they introduced me to a deeper queer community and furry shit in a way that made all of it way more approachable than in the past. Like the dragon in the story I'd written almost a decade earlier, because of them I was able to see everything from a new perspective that felt more authentic.

But like any dragon, being around them is harmful to your health. While they were (knowingly or not) pushing me to be my most authentic self, they were also trying to separate me from my girlfriend. Verbally abusing them in what I now assume was a desperate attempt to have me all to themselves (something I saw them do to others and thought nothing of it because we were friends and I thought there was no way they'd do that to me). Eventually, they brought me "high" enough that I started to see some of the cracks in myself. How I was still not happy, even though I had everything I thought I'd ever want. Eventually I came out to them as questioning my gender, and they were very supportive; but before I could figure out exactly what it was we stopped being friends and I found out everything that they had been doing behind my back.

We had finally reached the end of [REDACTED]'s story, he was blacking out due to lack of oxygen. The same end I had predicted 14 years prior, lifted up by someone he trusted to the point where he was so changed he was dead. And you would think that it is would be a sad ending, but he was never a happy person and honestly? I think this was the best ending he could've gotten.

Thankfully I still had other friends around me who could act as a pseudo parachute in this metaphor. [REDACTED] had died, and Jemma came back in his place. But also, she was there the whole time. When I was writing the story, I always knew that this wasn't the end of that character. I had always lied to myself and said that he survived it, that he only blacked out and eventually came to. But I think that deep down, I knew that this was a metaphor for becoming who I was always meant to be. That sometimes we have to destroy the parts of us that aren't really ourselves in order to be happy.

My story still isn't over, but at least now I feel like myself, and I know why everything felt wrong. I still have some things I need to work out, but at least I know why social settings are so hard and I know why I hated looking at myself in the mirror (before a few days ago, the last time I remember seeing someone I recognized as myself in the mirror was when I was six years old). I also now know why I fall so hard and so fast with so many people all at once, and have a loving wife who supports me in exploring that. I don't think I would have any of this though, unless [REDACTED] had died and I took his place.

[warriorsparked]

Headcanon: Char

This is going to revolve around Megatron's very first lover (or... his feelings for a lover considering that there was never actually a romance between them). Also just a cw that this will include mentions of violence, mental health, abuse (inc. sexual), toxicity, and death.

When Megatron was young, he didn't have many friends (if any tbh). He was seen as an outcast from pretty much the beginning of time, even to his fellow Kaonites. Megatron's mentors (parents) were abusive and very toxic, and they had a bad reputation within the community, so because of this, Megatron was outcast from his peers from the very beginning.

Megatron was also very socially withdrawn because of his upbringing, and the fact that he didn't have anyone to really relate with and interact with. He experienced antisocial behaviours and others pretty much saw him as the 'weird kid' that they wanted nothing to do with because he came from a broken household, one mentor a drunk and abusive and the other one slept around and was known as being a 'whore' (I am very sex worker positive, these are just narrow minded views from the community just fyi!). This one in particular, also abused Megatron sexually from a young age, which does come into play within Megatron's life and unpacking his trauma.

Megatron was also known for behavioural issues, lashing out and violent tenancies towards others (although generally speaking, Megatron was not usually the one that started anything, he merely finished it). I'll cover his psychological behaviours in another post maybe because that post will be LONG.

Char, a femme who was a couple of vorns younger than him, became his first real friend. He had met her on her first day at the academy (school), and had offered to show her around the place.

There was just something about her that drew him in. She was exceptionally kind and compassionate, and the very first person to show Megatron any decency. He CLUNG to that. For him, this was the first time anyone had ever shown him a sense of kindness outside of the teachers of course, but they could only do so much.

In a very dark place, Char became his light, and it didn't take long for him to fall desperately in love with her. But this love was also very toxic. For one, it was unacquainted. While Char was supportive of Megatron and tried her best to be his friend, she loved him only as a friend. Unfortunately, her compassion and time spent with him, made Megatron believe that she also felt the same, despite her having said no.

This is where Megatron's warped sense of views and lack of mental health support begin to show. He became aggressive in nature to others that she would give attention, he believed that he owned her in a sense, and he was definitely possessive. But he also HID this relationship from his creators, and his current at school psychiatrist (he'd been under scrutiny for a long time so the academy appointed him therapy sessions to help correct some of his behaviours). Megatron was under the belief that if his creators knew, or his therapist, then they would take away what made him happy, or they would taint it, because that's what they did. They ruined everything they touched, including him.

Megatron's self worth was rock bottom. This didn't help in how he saw his and Char's relationship. It was set up for failure the moment it began, unfortunately. Especially due to how Megatron perceived sex and violence, and how intertwined they had become for him no thanks to what he'd been exposed to at home.

He became obsessed with Char. While he claimed he loved her, and would never hurt her, there relationship took a few tumbles, especially when he attempted to kiss her--which she did not approve of. While he did apologise and explained he thought that she felt the same way, it didn't stop him from seeing her as a tease and a cheat when she was with others. His internal battles were extreme, especially since... again, his mental health was not on his side, and keeping this secret from others meant he had no real outlet aside from his own thoughts (which were dark and nasty). Megatron tried his best to contain his impulses, but it was a very hard time for him, especially when he had no real help.

Eventually, Megatron was arrested for crimes (murder) he committed and he was thrown into an institute (this is another HC post I'll cover in time). This separated him and Char. For vorns, he was locked away, but she did visit him once, when his therapist found out about her when investigating his past. Megatron apologised for his wrongs, and she tried to encourage him to expose what had happened to him in that household to his therapist. This caused a lot of tension, because Megatron had put his trust in her, and everyone he'd ever trusted had betrayed him. So... as you can imagine, his trust was fragile.

She left when things became violent and the guards sedated him and dragged him away. This MORTIFIED Char, seeing her old friend being treated this way when they were supposed to be helping him. She couldn't face him anymore, not knowing the pain he was going through, not knowing what they did to him, and also knowing that there was nothing she could do to help.

When Megatron finally got out, he went to see her, finding out where she was living. Unfortunately for him, because this was SO LONG ago, Char had moved on with her life, had bonded to a femme and had a family with them.

This infuriated Megatron. His trust had already been fragile, as much as his mind which told him that this was a betrayal. That the last person he had put his trust and faith in had broken it.

In his mind, even while he was incarcerated, he still believed that one day, him and Char would live happily ever after. It had given him a sense of hope, and even a reason to behave so he could be released (ofc the Institute are horrible and they kept him in there for as long as possible because his therapist was a cruel mech who enjoyed pressing him to the edge).

In Megatron's rage, he killed the bondmate and then charged his way through the door of Char's home, covered in her mate's blood. Even then, he still believed that he could make Char love him, that they were supposed to be together. He tried to convince her in his angst, but when she pulled a knife on him in fear, he strangled her and killed her. He also killed her sparklings, seeing them as defiling what they'd shared together, but also knowing that without Char, they'd live miserable lives like he had, and he'd rather them have peace than suffering (Megatron's view of the world was very negative and twisted from his own sufferings).

Afterwards, he of course regretted it. Immediately. He had become consumed by his anger and hurt, and he'd never MEANT to hurt her or kill her. Megatron was unstable, had tricked the system long enough that they could no longer contain him, despite his mental health being so fragile (and his physical processor issues which again, another HC post lol).

This is one of the biggest regrets in his life, and always will be. Although he has recovered mostly from his processor issues and is undergoing therapy, Megatron is still a possessive lover. But Char's death is a reminder, always, of what he never wants to go through again, and he wishes he could be a better person. He did love her, but his circumstances were exceptionally unfortunate, and he absolutely regrets every moment of hurt he'd caused her. If he could take it all back, he would, but this was also a long LONG time ago in his life now. But it's something he'll always regret and something that will always haunt him.

Megatron's life had never been kind to him, but it also doesn't excuse his wrongs, and he understands that. He has paid for his crimes, but for this one, he'll never be punished enough in his optics.

[iheartgarrus]

N7 Month Day 11: Sacrifice

(AO3 Link - Fun fact: I have a Hannah/Victus WIP on the backburner. Yet another canoe I'm out here paddling. This is platonic though, and angsty. There's a brief reference to child death, so it's behind a cut bc I want everyone to be safe.)

Grieving parents were a painfully familiar sight to Hannah.

There were the ones she served with during the war - as desperate as they all were for “news from home”, by the time it actually came, they almost invariably ended up wishing it hadn’t. Babies whose other parent had tried to their dying breath to get them onto an evac shuttle on up to kids old enough to be in the Alliance themselves. Not truly kids anymore, but they were in every way that mattered to Hannah’s crewmates.

And after the Reapers were dead and gone, their victims were still everywhere she looked, with permanently hollowed out spaces in their hearts. She knew them on sight, she realized, and she wondered if that was because she’d once spent two agonizing years living in their hell.

And that was really why she still struggled so much with how to approach the subject this many years later. She hadn’t been asked to for a long time, but now… Well, she couldn’t tell someone she knew how they felt, even if she did. Because her child had come back, and theirs never would.

It didn’t help that it was a turian, in this case - honor in sacrifice and all that. The usual "comforting" words could be outright offensive, for all she knew. And yet she’d have recognized that singular kind of grief even if it weren’t common knowledge that Primarch Victus had lost his only son in the war. The Lieutenant’s sacrifice had saved countless lives, her daughter told her.

Hannah at least knew better than to ask the Primarch if that made it any easier.

[rwac96]

DB: R&R - History of Ranch, Part 3 by IsabellaFaleno

(source: deviantART)