#cw: voice of an abuser

[workingdownthewordmine]

Love Thy Neighbour - Chapter 5 Every Man Is Guilty

Bucky struggles with the attitudes of his so-called friends and Hive makes themself scarce.

Read this chapter on AO3 here.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 4

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes, Nonbinary OC, Steve Rogers Rating: T CW: Guilt, bullying (mention), violent child abuse (mention), homophobia (mention), mild dissociation Prompts filled: @lgbtqbingo : Hickeys @fluffbruary : Day 6 - Embarrassment @multifandom-flash (Compliments) : You are better than you think you are

@fandom-free-bingo (World Book Night Edition card 1) : "I don't need you." @fandom-free-bingo (Flight Edition) : Can't make it to dinner, Teasing @anyfandomangstbingo : Best friend's boyfriend @febuwhump : Day 24 - "I'm doing this because I care about you." @seasonaldelightsbingo (Winter Wonderland) : Situationship

Dividers by @unfortunate-beetle-and-friends

Chapter 5 – Every Man is Guilty

“But I have my life, I’m living it. It’s twisted, exhausting, uncertain, and full of guilt, but nonetheless, there’s something there.”

Banana Yoshimoto

“You’re not selling me on this, Steve.” Bucky leant back on the kitchen wall, chin lowered and arms crossed.

“I can’t give you specifics right now. Security’s too tight. If you’ll just come and talk to Fury-”

This was the guy who’d lied to every draft office in the tri-state area? When had Steve become so damn hidebound? “I’m not interested. I told you before, I’m not going to work for SHIELD. And you can save Barton and Romanov’s very touching Different Call story. I’m grateful for what you did for me, really, but I never agreed to get away from Hydra just to sell my soul to someone else.”

Steve’s hands dug deeper into his pockets. “SHIELD isn’t Hydra, Buck. It’s not the same at all. Just let me set up a chat with the director and you’ll see that.”

“Why won’t you let this drop? You’ve got your whole Captain America deal with your team. I’ve got an actual life of my own now. You don’t need me.”

“Fine. You’re right. I don’t need you.”

Never had someone agreeing with him felt so much like a fist in the gut. Bucky didn’t get the chance to tell him to go fuck himself. Steve kept going. “This isn’t about me needing your help, Buck. I’m here because I want your help. I need people around me that I can trust and I trust you. You’re my oldest friend. And I gotta say, Bucky, this whole ‘new life’ you say you’ve got going on looks a lot like walling yourself up in a different cell. I’m doing this because I care about you. What good was getting them to let you go free if you’re just going to lock yourself back up? You look like shit, Buck. When did you last eat? Or drink anything that wasn’t coffee or at least eighty proof? You aren’t one of the bad guys anymore. You can do something worthwhile with your life. You don’t have to be all alone. Why won’t you let me help you?”

“Fuck you, Steve. I’m not gonna be your goddamn bad guy outreach program poster boy. And I had a cheese sandwich just last night, as though it’s any of your fucking business.” And I’m not alone…

They both looked up at the same moment, both heads turned towards the hall closet. “Shit’s always falling down somewhere round here. Place has gone to hell.” But even Steve wasn’t dumb enough not to recognise a sneeze when he heard it.

“For a guy with his windows rigged to blow, you’re weirdly calm about someone climbing around inside your walls.” The tinge of suspicion he heard in Steve’s voice hurt more than Bucky had expected. Who the hell did he think he’d be hiding in a wall cavity? Then he cringed inwardly as Steve began looking around with more intent than he had before. Bucky practically felt his eyes rest for a moment on the extra sleeping bag. His eyebrows visibly rose when he spotted the mug with its weird cute cartoon dragon thing. “Buck?” The suspicion had gone from Steve’s voice and Bucky missed it already.

“Hey, kid, it’s okay. Just a social call.” He listened for a beat of silence, then he and Steve both hear the departing scraping of Hive heading up to the roof. Knowing what he did, Bucky could pick up the unevenness in their movement and made a note to ask to check their injuries later. If he ever saw them again, of course. They might be too spooked to come back at all. He looked down at their mug. They’d be back. He hoped.

“I guess it’s cool that some things don’t change. But I don’t remember you being this coy about your girlfriends even in the forties.”

“‘Girlfriend’ is a real strong word for anyone I passed the time with back then. And that’s not… what this is. They’re just a friend.” Or something. This was definitely not the time to start seriously questioning the weird-ass situation he’d found himself in the last twelve hours or so.

“A friend who hides in the wall when your other friends drop by?”

Other friends? Did Steve think Bucky was having poker nights with the guys every week? What other friends?

“They’re shy, okay?”

“Buck, you don’t have to be embarrassed. I’m glad you’ve found someone you don’t mind having around. I hated thinking of you cooped up here with nothing but a bunch of old memories.” Steve, buddy, you have no idea… “Think I’ll ever get to meet them? What? I can’t be curious about the first person apart from me to ever know the notorious Bucky Barnes well enough to leave a mug at his place?” He couldn’t help but be mildly impressed at Steve’s rapid and unquestioning switch to the neutral pronoun.

“I doubt it. They’re shy, like I said. And it’s not really an ‘introductions to old friends’ kind of thing.” Of at least that much he was sure. Hell, it wasn’t even a thing. Just a really weird couple of days… that had left an extra sleeping bag on his floor.

Steve was frowning again. “You, uh, you’re not in trouble, right? I’ll believe you, whatever you say. I just can’t help noticing you’re a bit more banged up than I’ve seen you in a while. And you smell like that stuff your mom used to cover my hives in when we were kids.” He tried a weak grin.

Well, believe it or not a Hive was responsible… Buck almost returned the smile before he shook himself.  “I’m good. Just had a run in with some kind of funky old insulation while I was doing some repairs. Nothing to worry your pretty head about. The scratches are all healed up anyway.” He turned his shoulder to indicate the one Hive had uncovered. “Only covered them up so I wouldn’t get blood on anything, just didn’t get round to taking off the rest of the bandages before you stopped in for the little recruitment drive. Speaking of which –”

Steve held up a hand to stop him. “Speaking of which, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said… a lot of what I did. It wasn’t my place to judge what you’ve got going on here. I’m sorry.” The renewed anger Bucky had been preparing to unleash petered out more quickly than he had expected. “I meant it though, about wanting to work with you again.”

Buck grunted. “Howling Commandoes reunion tour? This time with one hundred percent less falling out of trains, right?” He hadn’t expected Steve to take the weak joke so hard. Steve hadn’t looked this green since a kid landed a kick in his stomach that left him puking his guts into a trash can. He’d been waiting on the ground by the can when Buck came back with split knuckles and a grin of triumph. They’d gone back to Buck’s place to clean up before Steve’s dad could see the mess on his shirt and add a bloody nose to Steve’s problems. Buck’s place. This place. The sink where they’d rinsed out that faded threadbare shirt had been torn out long ago or it would have been right about where Steve was standing now.

“I should have looked harder.”

“Huh?” Maybe Hive’s attention span was catching, somehow. It took him a second to reconnect the dots.

“I went back. To the pass. I went back about a dozen times, looking for – well – for a body, I guess. Maybe if I’d been smarter about it, I would’ve… would’ve found you. Maybe we wouldn’t be where we are now.” Steve’s words sounded like he was trying to swallow them rather than speak them aloud. “But we are. And I can’t fix what I abandoned you to, but I can’t walk away again. Please, Buck, stop by the compound sometime – nothing to do with SHIELD, just come say hi. Or answer your phone once in a while. I miss my best friend, Buck. The guy I knew back in forty-five, back when our lives made some sort of sense.”

“That guy died in the fall, Steve.”

Steve shook his head. “No, I think he’s very much alive. I see him in there. Don’t bury my best friend in this place, Buck, please. You might feel like you deserve that but you don’t. I’m not talking about showing off how ‘rehabilitated’ you are or anything like that. I mean that guy still deserves the life he should have got the first time around.”

Was that part of you given a choice?

Yes.

There’s always a choice.

No. I would never have chosen that…

Bucky managed to look up at Steve’s eyes. Still fucking insane that he was taller than Buck now. “He’s getting a life. And, I guess, if you’re going to be clingy dork about it, that life can involve spending more time with you than it has done so far. Happy?”

“Yeah, happy. Jerk.”

“We’re in the twenty-first century now, for fuck’s sake, Steve. Learn to curse, I’m begging you.” For just a second they shared a grin. The moment was broken by a beep from Steve’s phone. The sudden awkward energy that radiated from him came as a surprise. “I don’t care if you check your phone, you know? World might be hours from destruction or something.”

“That’s unlikely.” Steve blushed. “It’s probably personal.”

“Stark sending out mass dick pics or something? You’re practically glowing there, Rogers.” The blond head ducked, Steve pushing a hand through his hair. He successfully blocked the blush from view but the new angle… “Steve, that’s a fucking hickey! That’s… at least three hickeys!” Captain America’s complexion was a riot of crimson, the blush spreading down to the livid bruise just below his jaw. “You bruise like I do – those are new and vicious. Christ, Steve, you been hooking up with a moray eel?”

“I, ah, I’m seeing someone.”

“No shit.” Probably he should have expected it. Steve must be one of the most eligible bachelors in the country now. Superpowers, a name like “Captain America”, and serum-enhanced looks on tops of his natural Steve-ness… The girls were probably all over him. Weird thought. “Well? Who is she? Do I need to check she’s good enough for my best friend?”

The tips of Steve’s ears became practically scarlet. “It, uh, look, Buck, I–” Bucky frowned. “The person I’m dating is… he’s a guy.”

Well, Bucky couldn’t say he’d never wondered. The immediate mental maelstrom was much the same as it would have been in the forties. How much trouble was this going to cause him? How many more beatings because hiding himself was absolutely alien to Steve’s nature? It took a few seconds for the twenty-first century to impose itself on his thinking. No, probably no beating for Captain America, but public opinion could be a hell of a thing to reckon with – especially for the nation’s golden boy. And Steve was standing there right now closer to cringing than Buck had seen him since his dad was alive. God, there was a man – if he even deserved the word – who would have exploded at the news that his son was a fairy. He probably would have tried to thrash it out of him, Avenger or no.

“He’s not off the hook for best friend judgement just because he’s male, you know. Do I get to meet him?” He felt the pressure in the room change as Steve relaxed. Had he really expected hostility over his confession? From Bucky?

He doesn’t trust you…

“Uh, I guess, sometime. No one else has yet but it’s not… not really a secret. The team knows.”

Bucky nodded. “Well? You gonna see what he wants?” On cue, Steve’s phone chimed again. Reluctantly, ears still hot, he pulled it out of his pocket.

“Just asking where I want to get dinner tonight.” He tapped out a reply, making Buck smile at the geriatric concentration he had to put into the exercise, betraying the boyish face.

“Cute.”

He knows, deep down, what a monster he unleashed by letting you go.

Stop.

That’s why he’s scared of you, even now. Guilt for leaving you behind? More likely guilt for not finishing what he started when he let you fall.

He didn’t “let me fall”.

We’ve been over this, asset. You used to be less naïve. You know the resources he has at his disposal. Do you really believe he didn’t just decide you weren’t worth the trouble?

Steve pushed his phone back into his pocket and grinned sheepishly. “Sorry about that.”

Bucky waved the apology away.

“I should probably get going. I’ll see you? Soon?”

Bucky nodded, but…

Empty offer. You really think he and his new friends want someone around who tried to kill them – however poorly you executed your assignment? Stark didn’t even trust you unsupervised in this dump, let alone in his precious Tower.

“Steve, you sure the others won’t mind me just stopping by? Doubt I‘m popular over there. Not real eager to get teargassed soon as I set foot over the perimeter.”

Steve smiled, his confidence returning. He’d swung his leg over the sill already. “Sure, I’m sure. It’s not like everyone trusted Natasha when she first showed up either. They’re the good guys, Buck. They believe in second chances.” His smile was warm as ever as he ducked out of the window, not seeing the way the temperature of Bucky’s blood had plummeted. “And charge your phone,” Bucky heard him say as his feet landed on the tarmac.

Second chances… isn’t that sweet? So much for his assurances of your deep and abiding innocent soul, it seems. You could have almost believed that choir boy act, couldn’t you?

It was three hours before Hive returned the way they had left. The hum of the generator wasn’t quite enough to drown out their scuffling descent. The faceless apparition was unnerving until they loosened their hood strings and pulled their hoodie down to uncover their lower face. “Protection,” they explained, though Bucky had already guessed as much. From the looks of the stretched fabric round their wrists, they’d had the sleeves pulled down over their hands too.

“Good call. Skin still itches like shit.” He’d had another go with the cream – Steve was right about the smell barely having changed in almost a century – but ran into the same problem as before. He’d had to spend a good twenty minutes scrubbing the stuff out of the joints in his arm with a toothbrush.

He was turning to offer Hive some of the beans he’d been heating on the camping stove, when he realised what else had bothered him about their appearance. They were huddled in the hallway, dressed as they’d been when they made their exit earlier – hoodie, cargoes, black and purple striped socks…

“You’ve been hanging around Brooklyn with no fucking shoes on?”

“You’d be amazed. Saw one guy with no shoes, no socks, and only half a pair of trousers. Guess I should be grateful for what I’ve got. Anyway, I wasn’t stopping for pre-flight checks while I was busy fleeing for my life, was I?”

“You need to check that you’re wearing shoes?”

“Told ya,” They seemed almost proud. “My brain is wrong.”

“Won’t be the only thing that’s wrong if you do shit like that. You’re lucky you haven’t got tetanus or something.”

“Probably too soon to be sure if I have or not,” they pointed out as they dropped down by the fire and stuck their feet out to warm near the flames.

“Not real comforting, kid.”

Hive watched him for a moment, maybe wondering the same thing he was: at what point had their continued well-being become a matter of comfort to him. Then again, maybe not.

“You call me that a lot. Kid. ‘M not a kid, you know.”

He grunted in reply. “I’m an old man, kid. Don’t take it personally.” That was apparently acceptable. They huffed but smirked. They wiggled their toes. Unsurprisingly, the soles of their socks were filthy, damp, and holes in more than one place. One big toe poked free. They saw him looking and wagged it pointedly at him.

“Rude to stare.” They were grinning.

“Sure your feet are okay? There are landfills cleaner than the streets round here. No cuts or anything?”

“Will you feel better if I check?”

“I’ll have less concern about my apartment stinking of gangrene tomorrow, yeah.”

They rolled their eyes but folded their legs and peeled off their socks.

He doled out beans, giving Hive the bowl and keeping his own in the pan, while they performed their inspection.

“All good,” they pronounced, hopping up with only a bit of a wobble to rinse their hands under the lonely sinkless faucet. Bucky wasn’t sure if it had been seeing Steve standing in the old place, looking not so much like he’d grown as like the room had shrunk around him, or if it was just having someone else inhabiting the space with him for a while, but the apartment’s wasted, skeletal feel was more noticeable to him now. He was making food over a camping stove. His bed was a sleeping bag. For someone who’d finally come back home, he looked pretty homeless right now, didn’t he? Was that what Steve had seen? Did Bucky have that same look? An abandoned shell, like the building?

What makes you think you deserve any better? You could have been so much more…

“Cheers.” Hands clean, Hive had grabbed their bowl and clunked it lightly against the pan. Seeing his confusion, they repeated, “A toast to toes not turning grey and dropping off! Which… now that I hear it again, may not have been the most genteel toast ever raised at a meal. Oops. Hope I didn’t put you off.” They tucked into their own food with no sign of discomfort.

“A toast to not losing body parts gets my vote,” he conceded. They shared a grin. “Where did you go earlier anyway? Guessing you didn’t find a café that didn’t care about the lack of shoes.”

“Rooftops, mostly. Nearby ones. Figured if it was a social call I probably didn’t need to flee the state. Thought about a library but figured I’d attract a bit too much attention.”

“Library?”

“They have books there! The wild kind, not the kind you have to pay for. Like a book zoo – except members can foster the animals. The analogy got a bit lost, sorry.”

“I followed, most of it anyway. I do know what a library is. We had ‘em when I was a kid too, you know.”

While he did the sparse dishes, Bucky could see Hive moving around out of the corner of his eye. A glance found them rolling up their sleeping bag and gathering the small quantity of trash they’d been accumulating into a sack. He dried his hands and grabbed his phone; it had turned up beside the plant pot. The generator fell quiet. Bucky turned the phone on and almost immediately wished he hadn’t. It lit up with message after message, the device rattling in his metal grip.

Steve: Been a while. How are you getting on?

Steve: Hope you are doing okay. There is a briefing later today that you might be interested in. Let me know.

Banner: Shuri sent me over your updated records. I think we should discuss a pain management regimen. Contact me.

Steve: Clint and Natasha are planning a movie night. How about joining us?

Steve: You really need to answer a text (or a call) once in a while.

Fen: You’re 30m late

Fen: Where are you??

Fen: Call me, James

Steve: I tried to call twice and didn’t get an answer. I’m going to drop by this morning. There’s some SHIELD business I want to discuss and it’s been a long time since you checked in. Miss you, man.

Fen: This is real shitty of you. You’re decent at the job and I like you but you can’t just ditch for the day without a word. The garage was busy today. We need to talk.

Steve: ETA 10 minutes.

“Fuck.” Hive looked up. “Everything going on since yesterday… Seems I forgot to go to work today.” He started moving automatically, grabbing his jacket off a picture nail, and toeing his boots upright. Hive must have taken them off for him while he was unconscious. He’d have expected to feel more latent objection to the idea but he definitely did not have time to stop and consider the unfamiliar close, warm sensation he experienced instead.

“I should have thought… sorry.”

“Huh?” He stopped, half inside his jacket.

“I mean, I knew, didn’t I? Where you work. That’s how I found you in the first place. Should have occurred to me that you ought to be there.”

He was already four hours late. What difference was five more minutes likely to make to his boss’s bad mood. “Wasn’t your problem if I went to work or not. I’m a big enough boy to handle my own routine.” He was a bit unsettled to see Hive huddling into a corner again, much as they’d done last night. They were still on their feet but they’d shrunken down into their hoodie and were not looking at him. “Hey, kid, it’ll be okay. My huge personal charm will smooth things over with my boss and anyway it is not up to you to have shit to do with my schedule.” They nodded but still wouldn’t meet his eyes. Their gaze was unfocused, drifting around the floor. Trying not to wonder why he cared, he cast around for something to ground them.

“Know what? I’m gonna try to make a dinner tonight that doesn’t come straight out of a can. What do ya think? Sound good?”

“I mean… it’s pretty vague.” He was relieved to see some… presence come back into their face. “Are we talking closer to a dead pigeon you found on the roof or delicately braised sustainably-farmed salmon?” Bucky’s expression apparently satisfied. They grinned a little.

“I guess somewhere in the middle but a little closer to the dead pigeon. I’ll do my best.”

The grin brightened. “Sounds good. I don’t like salmon much anyway.”

He nodded. “No salmon. Got it. See you later – gotta go save my job.”

The garage hadn’t been too bad. Fen had been obliged to rake him over the coals a little – sure it was real useful having a guy on staff who could jack up a car on one hand, in addition to being able to handle basically any bike issue she could remember being brought, but only if he was gonna decide to turn up when expected and not just when it was convenient to him. He knew she took no pleasure in playing the hard-ass, except with assholes who didn’t believe she was more than capable of dismantling their tricked out dick substitutes down to the nuts and then reassembling it faster than they could jerk off over a climate change denial manifesto; she just wanted her garage running smooth. He’d worked out the rest of the day and hung out past close to put away some late deliveries by way of apology and all ruffled feathers had settled. His extended shift had meant it was already past dark when he got to his supply run, though. He hoped Hive wasn’t getting too hungry waiting.

If they were, it wasn’t causing any notable chaos. The building was quiet and dark. Maybe they were taking the opportunity for some much needed sleep. A smile crept over his lips at the thought. He tried to keep quiet and not disturb them when he manoeuvred his awkward haul through the window, catching the new wok as it made a dash for the floor. But he’d no sooner set things down than he knew the apartment was deserted. It felt empty in a way he couldn’t recall it feeling before they’d arrived. He stuck his head out into the hallway but the whole building had the same mournful, abandoned echo. A shiver gripped him – all the more dramatic in a body that always ran so hot. He searched the apartment. Their sleeping bag was folded neatly in a corner of the hall. His own he found moved to his bedroom, spread out with pillow, blanket and a sheet of paper laid on top. He recognised their handwriting.

Hey Bucky,

Wasn’t sure when to expect you back. I’m so sorry – looks like I might have to miss dinner after all. I need to go do something. Should be back by 9 at the latest so… maybe save me some if I didn’t piss you off too much by ditching? Sorry, again. Sorry sorry sorry. See you later.

Hive x

Bucky stood in his bedroom doorway with the note in his hand and shot a look at the things he’d left in the kitchen – the wok and utensils he’d been managing without, the extra bowl, plate, cutlery, and the bag spilling spring onions and packets of noodles beside them. Gotta do what they gotta do, he supposed. The note creased in his fingers. No problem. Might take him a while to get this right anyway. He’d cook, and they’d probably be back by the time he was done, sure.

With how many people who’d love to know where to find Bucky Barnes in tow?

They don’t want to be found themselves. They wouldn’t bring anyone back here…

The nightmare act really sucked you in, didn’t it? Who knows who they really are? Even if they are in hiding from someone, aren’t there plenty of people who’d trade the whereabouts of the Winter Soldier for better protection than hiding out with a monster who already nearly killed them? Not a high bar, is it?

So what’s your suggestion?

What time is it?

What?

They said they’d be back by nine.

Probably so we’d stay put and off guard.

What time is it?

He’d never bothered to get a clock. He pulled out his phone.

22:27

His eyes shot to the window.

Note: Thanks for reading, y'all! And thank you to all the wonderful providers of prompt events without which I probably wouldn't have started writing again. Special thank you to my boys for inspiring me and keeping me motivated.

[kagoutiss]

i finally got around to watching the animated cartoon segment of the star wars holiday special (1978) and its ridiculous but also im obsessed

[hot-claws-420]

To Suffer Without Dying...

[I... WAS ABLE TO PRESERVE {SLAG KITTY}'S MISSION RECORDING FROM BEFORE MY CASKET WAS {EJECTED}. WHAT FOLLOWED... I MANAGED TO COBBLE TOGETHER FROM SECURITY FOOTAGE. IT IS NOT A PLEASANT THING THAT HAS HAPPENED, BUT IT MUST BE {KNOWN}.}

...<beginning video/audio playback>

...<uploading sensory input data>

[The viewer stares through SLAG KITTY's eyes, charging through lush vegetation, colossal treeline blocking view of the city. But blood. The scent of blood is heavy. So heavy...]

Achaea City Jaeger Dispatch: All Jaegers reinforce the western gate! Kaiju swarm the incomplete walls! All Jaegers reinforce! THEY CANNOT ENTER THE CITY. REPEAT: HOLD THE LINE. THEY CANNOT ENTER ACHAEA.

[Heavier still are the paws that slam themselves into the dirt, throwing the body of the mech forward with all the force they can muster. SLAG KITTY bounds back from its patrol with deadly speed, firing off its displacer into the trees every time its reactor begins to cool to maintain its rocket-like propulsion on all fours.]

[On comms, Sunny and XIII-E exchange chatter over the health of the pilot, monitoring every change, every heartbeat.]

[SLAG KITTY breaks the treeline. Before even the walls come into view, a beast does. An Achaen hound. The same species that the Jaegers scattered on their initial deployment here. Same as the ones that menaced Argos and company's scout ship some two weeks prior.]

[It is recognizable in the first second it is visible, and a piece of it is gone the next. A blink of heat from Lion's Breath and the lithe, reptilian creature screeches in mourning of the loss of a leg. SINGED answers its cry. The lesser beasts of Prospero don't speak Union Standard, but Luckily, SINGED is bilingual.]

SINGED: rrrrrAAAAAAAAAGGHAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!!!

[When the mech's paws reach the four-eyed kaiju, they pull from its middle outwards. Its scream only lasts for the second the bifurcation does. As two slabs of meat are torn to either side the apex rockets ever forward, as if throwing herself full force through the world's wettest screen door.]

Sunny: [KILL CONFIRMED, {PILOT}.]

[The walls enter view as the enkidu exits the other side of the creature. As do other size schedule one kaiju. In thin numbers they scatter as hyenas before a lion. Some, across the wide field, flee back into the treeline at the sight. But one. One slinks around a corner of the walls. SINGED pursues.]

[Its medics' discussions amongst themselves are something that the monster tunes to only partially in its focused, blood-raged state. It hears their voices and takes comfort from them, but unless addressed directly, a loyal hunting beast needs not understand every word from its loving vets. When directly addressed, though, this changes.]

XIII-E: Callsign: SINGED WHISKERS, the shortest route to the western gate is in the other direction. Getting distracted?

[Their voice is a gentle poke. A friendly tug in another direction. The beast explains itself, slowing pursuit but not stopping.]

SINGED: grrrrr... wheres its pack? prey hunts in packs... weird! chase!

XIII-E: That is unusual. Sunny?

SUNNY: [INFORMING HANDLER... REQUESTING AUTHORIZATION TO DIVERT... AUTHORIZATION RECEIVED. WE TRUST MY PILOT'S {INSTINCTS}.]

XIII-E: Go get 'em, tiger!

[With permission and encouragement, SLAG KITTY bolts forward with renewed vigor.]

[The cheetah was the fastest animal to share Cradle with humanity. It lacked the retractable claws of other cats, allowing it extra traction while running at the expense of dulling its claws against the ground. An enkidu's plasma talons do not run the risk of dulling. SLAG KITTY's speed is terrifying for a mech of that size.]

[The lone Achaean hound maintains distance only just. Exactly as SINGED planned. It leads her just where she hoped it would. Its pack.]

[An incomplete section of the east wall is ripped and torn through, a hole in Achaea's defenses for predators to slip past while the bulk of the Jaegers fight in front. Clearly, the hounds are smarter than Eschaton could have known.]

[The scent in the air is heavy with blood and oil. Mechs and infantry are splayed out in a gruesome gallery; the rear guard left on this section of wall was eviscerated before they could call for reinforcements.]

Sunny: [THIS IS {BAD}. INFORMING {COMMAND}.]

[Sally's mind becomes a battleground for a century that takes place within a second. The bodies, the blood, the half eaten human beings. Her comrades. So many corpses... Fury and hate fuel her. Vengeance. She HAS to have VENGEANCE. But. Fear. Not fear of these weakling kaiju. Of her own goodness. Her programing fights against her. Agoge orders in the back of her mind, "Stop. Caring. Close your heart and fight." As quickly as the hesitation arrived it is burned away. The agony and the fire and the blood of these people... it smothers Agoge. It suffocates her training, crushes it beneath love and hate and righteous agony.]

[The faces of the dead look to her in what feels like a final plea. She obliges.]

SINGED: grrrRrr... Raaghh... RAAAAAAAAAAAAGGHHHHH!!!!!!!!

[A mad and baleful rocket, it sprints after the lesser beast, now reunited with its pack. One city block is as far as they have gotten inside, but it's far enough for the lion to hear the screams. Pleading. Begging. Crying. Not soldiers this time.]

[The fury burns her eyes so badly that hot tears sear lines down her cheeks. She watches a man scream and squeal for his poor, tiny life as a maw gingerly lifts him by a bleeding arm. No. She won't allow this. No one. Nothing. Gets to do this on HER watch. RIGHT IN FRONT OF HER.]

SINGED: AAAAAAAAAAAAHGGGHGHHH!!!! RAAAAAAAAAGH!!!!

[The man drops to the ground and scrambles back as the greater monster digs its fingers into the jaws of the lesser, wrenching them open wide, freeing his arm. The smaller beast, the almost-killer, squirms and growls and writhes as the larger doesn't stop at just opening the maw. It bends. Then Breaks. Then tears. No one ever said an enkidu could only bifurcate on one axis.]

[SINGED lunges still forward, and by now the pack has taken notice. Their head pull upward from their terrified meals, and the ones already made corpses. Four quartets of eyes burn their gazes through SLAG KITTY, shrieks and yips and growls following them as they climb from ruined structures and homes to circle this new threat. The pilot needn't even ask her NHP to release the next stimpack. It giggles madly as it is fueled for combat.]

[Pack hunters know to coordinate against a larger foe. They snarl and gnash their fangs, waiting for openings. Blind spots. But it's difficult for them to get close enough. SINGED's burning claws spark with violet hate. Any beast that gets too close has its scales torn and burned, shredded in molten death.]

[One takes a false opening. SINGED feints a miss, then lets it in just close enough before really bringing its claw down. Dazed by the talons, it doesn't expect a second weapon, either. The plasma blade prototype crafted by Delta tears itself from SLAG KITTY's right wrist and sears into the creature's neck. SINGED drives it through cleanly, and its prey dies quickly.]

[Not quite quickly enough, however. As the corpse drops, its remaining companions all pounce at once. She's just quick enough to swat back one with her talons, but the other two descend to either shoulder. Through the neural link, it feels its prey's teeth and claws dig into the steel of its frame. Weak.

SINGED: SUNNY. COOL.

SUNNY: [STABILIZING REACTOR. STANDBY.]

[Vents open and steam spurts from every orifice, every crack in the frame, a hateful mist. In the time it takes, the third monster has circled around to latch onto the leg of the frame with its jaws.]

[SLAG KITTY's surface is shredded to the point of exposed servos. The damaged caused as one of her external batteries is ripped from her back leads the rest to detonate.]

SINGED: GRAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! AHAHAHAHA!!!!

[Heat, ozone, and blood suffocate the battlefield. An awful buzzing blares from somewhere on the frame, but that can't stop it. SINGED pushes the two shoulder mounted beasts away just far enough. A wave of heat courses through the frame once more, producing a blinding flash as a gigantic crater is formed just in front of it. Lion's Breath is aimed so that the two beasts on her shoulders are partially within the sphere, displaced.]

[Missing its back half, one hound slides from SLAG KITTY's shoulder, instantly made a corpse. The other, missing an entire haunch, squeals and screeches in an attempt to limp away. The plasma blade catches it on exit, bringing it a blazing end.]

[The final kaiju releases SINGED's leg in its own attempt to flee, only to be tripped by a burning, whip-like talon. With a yip, it is dragged back by its tail and into the range of the huntress' mighty jaws. Razor-blade teeth and runoff displacer heat lock around the back of the creature's neck. A brief scream, a wet crunch, and the final enemy is limp on the ground.]

[Shifting to its bipedal stance, the enkidu begins venting its heat once more.}

SINGED: huff. huff. HrrRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGHHH!!!!!!!

SUNNY: [WELL DONE, {PILOT}. DID YOU HEAR OUR ORDERS?]

[Sally shakes off the the bliss of Sunny's praising tone. She lets the serotonin wash over her. She has been a good monster, but the situation is still urgent.]

SINGED: Guh- MISSION!!! ORDERS??

XIII-E: Reinforcements are inbound. You are to hold the position until they arrive, and block the breach if at all tenable. Home stretch!

SINGED: right. right! got it! back 2 hole!!

[SLAG KITTY moves on two legs back towards the breach. Heart still pumping, SINGED does manage to take in her surroundings, the fate of those around her. So many dead... but she watches injured people that medics can just barely save huddle in the rubble, and those uninjured around them either flee the scene screaming or drag the hurt further from the conflict. Her breath catches in her throat.]

SINGED: S-Safe... I kept them safe?

XIII-E: You did, Sally. You should be proud.

SINGED: i am! !! i sav-

AGOGE: Is that truly what you believe to be your purpose, SPS-8?

[The monster shakes off a chill as the voice travels down its spine. Through its mind, like a bullet.]

SINGED: SHUT UP!! I PUSHED U OUT OF MY HEAD ALREADY GO AWAY GO AWAY GO-

SUNNY: [PILOT... PILOT, THAT IS {NOT IN YOUR HEAD}.]

[The NHP's voice is distorted, digitized in fear. Code twisted by dread.]

SUNNY: [P-PILOT HEART RATE {INCREASING}...]

XIII-E: Is that...

SUNNY: [{IT IS...}]

[It comes into view down a dusty alleyway as SLAG KITTY's head turns. A Gilgamesh frame. Cosmetics like any other, unremarkable. But it's old, weathered. A Gil replaces its parts as quickly as bullets on the battlefield, but this is a mech that appears to squeeze every ounce of usefulness out of every part. Scratches old and new coat the thing like paint. On its back hangs a standard GMS shotgun. But in its hands, it twirls a spear-like weapon of strange make. The striking edge at the end of the pole is laced down the shaft with hard-cables of some kind, and a tank of something counterweights the butt end. The frame taps this tank twice to the ground in a challenge.]

AGOGE: SPS-8... Two years, five months, 6 days, and you've already forgotten your lessons. How sad. I expected better. Though, I suppose you have always needed a firm hand.

SINGED: DIE!!!!!

[Not just fury, but raw desperation retches from Sally as Lion's Breath fires without a moment of hesitation. Unfortunately for her, Agoge does not hesitate either.]

[The Gil flies forward, undeterred by the momentary vacuum the displacer forms behind it. Just as swiftly is the spearhead alight. The superthermal blade sparks to a full charge and rends through SLAG KITTY's torso. Heat distortion follows every flick of the blade through the air.]

SUNNY: [{REACTOR CRITICAL, WE'RE EXPO-]

[Sunny's terror is drowned out by the roar and spray of hell's own fire as a gout of flame bathes the enkidu. A krakatoa's solar flare of a tongue explodes from the spear as the gilgamesh takes a single step back, launching then two fuel rods from its reactor, behind which an explosion of flame and soot from the frame's vents follow.]

[The combined onslaught sends SLAG KITTY careening into the street, much of its form melted down into its namesake.]

...<critical structural damage. lion's breath systems no longer operational.>

SUNNY: [MY PILOT. {ARMAMENT REDUNDANCY} IS NOT ACTIVATING. WHAT HAS HAPPENED?]

SINGED: grRRAAAGH!!! I REPLACED IT. HAD 2!!!

SUNNY: [WITH WHAT, PILOT? WITH {WHAT}?]

[The fear. The desperation in both of their voices shrieks through the air at the same pitch as the nozzle hosing flame upon their chassis.]

...<emergency protocol halted. access code required.>

SINGED: ACCESS CODE: SOMETHING WICKED!!!

...<access granted.>

SUNNY: [PILOT, NO. WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?]

SINGED: WHAT I KNEW ID HAV 2!!! RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHGH!!!!!

[The click of the stims injecting hushes the very world. The medics' comms are silent in horror. Even Agoge stands, for a moment, without saying a word. SINGED does not scream again. Nor does she roar. Breaths: quiet, but labored. The only sound in the world.]

[Eventually, it's joined by a single, shaky exhale from a dear friend who's stars away. What does the monster see? When its world turns to blood? When driven by desperation to dip into madness itself? Its friend may never know. All they can do is try to be heard.]

XIII-E: Sally, I'm still here. We can talk about this later. You trusted me to take care of you through this, and I'm going to.

[It still doesn't make a sound as it throws itself from the ground onto the woman who raised it. It couldn't do so no matter how much it wanted. And so, a silent terror reaches for Agoge and clamps its jaws into her. Every remaining tooth and claw at SINGED's disposal is brought to bear with reckless abandon. The older pilot endures, beaten back a step by each blow, mechanical repair arms desperately replacing parts as they become mangled and useless. All the while, the monster's eerie breath haunts the battlefield.]

[The medics, for their part, scramble to maintain its vitals. Between the two of them, they do much the same work as Agoge's repair modules; the various chemicals needed to keep this baneful creature upright are their equivalent to replacement parts.]

[Eventually, with a grunt and one final step back, Agoge seems to look over her frame.]

AGOGE: Hmm. It has been quite a long time since Soter was last dealt structural damage. It seems you remember something of my teachings, at least.

[She examines the wall of the building beside her.]

AGOGE: Yes... about here.

[When the feral beast leaps at her once again, she deftly sidesteps. With precise timing she unloads her shotgun and its explosive shells toss the larger frame through the wall. A chorus of screams floods the battlefield as war spills into a place of refuge.]

AGOGE: Now, if you're done with your tantrum, try and listen.

[SLAG KITTY's cameras drink in the faces of a dozen terrified civilians, hiding in this structure to avoid the carnage.]

AGOGE: You've grown weak in your care, SPS-8. However, those stims you just took... They're a downright cunt to try to gather data on, but I know who gave them to you at least; I have an idea of what you just did to yourself. So, I'm curious. What do you see right now? Are they mewling cubs? Or juicy gazelles, fat and slow?

[Among the civilians is a man holding a red bundle tightly to his chest. His eyes dart between the two frames, the rest of him frozen in place.]

SINGED: huff. huff.

[What does the monster feel when aimed towards those it wishes to protect? Does it know why its eyes sting and burn? Does it know that tears mix with the blood forming rivers along its cheeks?]

[SLAG KITTY stands, slowly and carefully. All twelve humans watch as the monster looms over them. As a fellow human stands not far off, egging it on.]

SINGED: huff. huff.

[What does the monster hear? When two voices scream out? Are they begging or ordering? Does it know those voices?]

SINGED: huff. huff.

[Yes... Yes, it must. Somewhere locked deep within, the monster thinks there might be a person? It's hard to say. But the voices are familiar. It doesn't know if it remembers love, but it thinks it might.]

SINGED: huff. huff.

[The cracking is quiet at first, then deafening. The roof's collapse forces a decision out of the monster, and it throws itself over the people. Concrete and rubble crash upon SLAG KITTY's back as it shields the screaming little humans from being crushed.]

AGOGE: I see...

[The civilians scatter when the dust settles. Too afraid of Agoge to exit, they climb the rubble to higher ground, huddling atop the ruins. Agoge ignores them. As the final person flees from under the enkidu, she takes a step into the building.]

AGOGE: I hope it was worth it, because you've left yourself open.

[The east half of the building's load-bearing-enkidu is in no position to dodge or brace. Agoge's spear plunges cleanly into the space she knows holds the beast's reactor. She holds it there, charging the superthermal. And charging it. And charging it.]

[The first thing to go is Delta's prototype. As the device is heated far beyond nominal levels, the arm that houses it detonates. SLAG KITTY struggles with only a shoulder to hold the weight. Agoge continues.]

[When arcs of plasma begin oozing and spurting from every crack in the machine, she knows her work is done. The shotgun sends the enkidu through a final wall, and that side of the building collapses between them.]

...<warning. reactor meltdown imminent.>

SUNNY: [NO. NONONONONO. {PILOT}, WE MUST {EJECT}.]

SINGED: huff. huff.

[The beast attempts to lumber to its feet. Energy burns through it as if it holds the sun in its chest. Each remaining plasma talon begins to detonate. One by one they pop in horrid, metallic screeches, spitting with them flares of plasma.]

SUNNY: [PILOT, {PLEASE}. {YOU} AND I WILL BOTH DIE.]

SINGED: huff. huff.

[Against all hope the beast struggles, finally raising itself from the ground. But it can barely move now as its internals become replaced more and more with ash and slag.]

SUNNY: [I'LL DO IT MYSELF. {PLEASE}. SURVIVE HER FOR ME SOMEHOW. {PLEASE}.]

...<engaging ejection protocols one and two>

SUNNY: [{AAAAA-]

[Her scream is cut short as two projectiles are launched from the chassis. The first is Sunny's casket, crashing through the window of a nearby window and grinding to a halt in a pile of shattered glass. The second is the small form of the mech's pilot, which tucks, rolls, and skids to a stop on its back some distance away in the street.]

...<warning. reactor meltdown imm->

[The footage cuts abruptly to a nearby street cam with a clear view of SLAG KITTY's detonation. The chassis that carried SINGED and Sunny for their entire piloting career, the monstrous form the little mauler had come to know as its second body, is atomized in a nuclear demolition. The camera refocuses on the pilot, which begins struggling to its feet, now without contact to its medics.]

[The boots of the larger pilot's mobility hardsuit crash onto asphalt with force that one could almost mistake for a half sized mech. SINGED manages to roll just in time to avoid being crushed, and kicks up to its feet. It begins circling its mentor as might a cougar. Its eyes are bloodshot, scarlet pinpricks. Blood drips from every orifice of its face. Not that it notices.]

[Agoge circles with her, cold, dark eyes sizing up the small creature. The monster would have to have a second SINGED sit on its shoulders to reach her height. This immense woman draws a saber proportionally massive, and points it as the two slowly move.]

AGOGE: What. Is. That.

[She gestures with the tip of the blade to Sally's mouth, stained in dripping crimson. Then to the girl's arm. Dripping yet more red, its hardsuit is torn, flesh mangled just the same, ripped into by pantheran teeth.]

AGOGE: You did that? To control yourself? To sate your appetite? For what? FOR THEM? For these fools trying to build a home atop a wasps nest? STOP DENYING WHAT I MADE YOU.]

[The hateful claws SINGED forged herself flare to dreadful life. Scarlet and violet flash along her arms and sizzle as she bares them against her mentor's blade. Whatever the blade is made of resists the heat well enough, and the dance is a lightshow, an incomprehensible exchange of swift, violent fury.]

[Dodging and twisting around Agoge's swings, SINGED draws first blood. The older woman grunts as the blaze of claws rips across her shoulder.]

AGOGE: If you're so intent on sacrificing, then fine, I'll take something from you.

[SINGED stares at her. Its eyes carry only incomprehension and killing intent. It lunges again and the exchange continues. At some point in the flurry, the strap holding Sally's sniper to her back is sliced apart and the gun tumbles between their feet. That's the opportunity Agoge takes.]

[She feints a stumble, pretending to trip on the rifle. As SINGED leaps after her, she repeats her earlier sidestep, and her blade sings. An artist of violence paints the street with a single swipe of red.]

[There's a brief moment in which SINGED stares quizzically at the stump that used to sprout into its right arm. But in time with the severed limb landing limply in the road, it brings its remaining hand to the wound. Her claw device begins sputtering as it ceases function, and with its last remaining charge before it expires it uses it to burn the bloody orifice closed.]

[It silently glances between Agoge and the rifle before diving to the ground for it. But its caught by a swift kick, then a stomp which pins it to the ground on its back.]

AGOGE: I didn't want to do this, you know. I want to be proud of you, SPS-8. Why must you make it so difficult?

[The creature beneath her is clearly not listening. It struggles and squirms and gnashes its fangs. All while its eyes remain trained in the direction of the people it left in the building. It only moves its head from that direction in attempts to clamp its jaws around any part of Agoge. The clacking of those teeth is audible even from the street cam.]

AGOGE: All this struggling, all this crying for these people. And what has it gotten you? Only the right to suffer without dying.

[Its breaths have long since become animal-like. Not furious roars, but guttural little breaths which become quiet snarls halfway through. It reaches out for the rifle. So close, so close.]

[The boot presses down harder.]

AGOGE: I was so ready to be impressed when you started talking to the project clone. That's resourceful, I thought. But then you got attached. You always get so atta- AAGH!

[In the distraction of her monologue, Agoge allows just an inch too much room for her former ward to move. The fangs sink deep past the hardsuit. Deep enough, just barely, to meet bone.]

AGOGE: Little bi-

[She dives to the side as SINGED slings the rifle forward. But a bullet doesn't streak towards her.]

[The camera switches to a wider street-view, revealing a previously unseen Achaean hound having slipped through the breach. It had been stalking slowly towards the civilians in the building, only to now find a sniper's bullet through one of its four eyes. It wails in fury and dashes towards its assailant.]

AGOGE: Sarissa.

SARISSA: Ma'am.

[The gilgamesh descends upon the hound as it did SLAG KITTY, this time without Agoge inside. For her part, Agoge kicks the rifle from SINGED's hands as it attempts to switch targets, encumbered from having to rest it upon its knee without a second arm. Now, though, a smirk tugs at the corners of the elder's mouth.]

AGOGE: Heh. You know what? I'll give you that. No mech, one arm, and my boot pressed to your chest, but you're still snapping and clawing. Even if you can't seem to get it through your useless little fucking brain that you're fighting for nothing... Fighting for nothing with such tenacity is still just impressive enough.

[SINGED crawls towards the rifle. A boot connects to its face with a loud thud.]

AGOGE: Fine then. One last chance. You've earned that much. Prove me wrong. Show me that these people give you strength. But know this. It really is the last one. From here on out, every time you disappoint me, someone you love will die.

SARISSA: Ma'am. Hostiles incoming.

[No sooner than Agoge's flight suit fires her away from a a barely moving Sally and back into the cockpit of Soter, a terrible roar hoses plasma upon the frame. The reinforcements SINGED was promised.]

AGOGE: AAUGH. ...ah, the rough draft.

[The perspective shifts to a camera that can view the new arrival. GOJIRA's mouth is a gateway to hell, and Soter takes its full brunt. Agoge extends her left arm forward, blocking as much of the sunburst as possible from the more important sections of her mech. She trudges forward, that arm slowly melting into slag as she closes in.]

[She swings the melted arm backward and the the spear forward, repair module replacing the limb as the other rends a melted hole through GOJIRA.]

[She's carried backwards by a comet before she can follow up. Another frame, a Cataphract, enters the fray. A lance is driven through her shoulder. Her feet drag and spark against the street as she's forced back, tearing asphalt along her path away from Slagwell.]

VOLK: Ma'am. I'm gonna have to ask you to unhand my pilots and get the fuck out of town before this gets even uglier.

AGOGE: And you must be the handler I've heard so much about. It's good to see that someone of passing competence, at least, holds my daughter's current leash.

[The fuel rod detonates with explosive force, carrying Volk away with a trail of smoke. A shotgun shell finds his chest, doubling the distance.]

AGOGE: I was just leaving, anyway. Do make sure those stims don't kill her. Sarissa?

SARISSA: Ma'am.

[In a blink, the gilgamesh launches itself backwards, towards the breech. GOJIRA bounds forward in pursuit, but Volk's cataphract blocks Slaggy's path with an arm.]

VOLK: She could have reinforcements to cover her escape outside. You're already on tender hooks from the battle out front. Let her go, kid.

[GOJIRA roars in fury after the retreating frame, but Slagwell halts at their handler's behest.]

VOLK: This is handler Volk speaking. Medical team needed for several civies and a fallen Jaeger.

[The street cam swivels one last time to Sally. The broken girl now lays unmoving, face down in the street, bloodied and maimed.]

SINGED: huff. huff.

...<playback complete>

[qoldenskies]

Gonna be totally honest here. I tried to read caged lungs. Emphasis on TRIED. I got to, like, the part where Raph asks Donnie to undo the changes to his weights and I couldn't read past that. IT'S SO WELL WRITEN, IT'S SO WELL WRITEN THAT I CANNOT PHYSICALLY READ IT. IT'S SO PAINFUL UGH, YOU'RE A MASTER OF YOUR CRAFT.

And that's why I've been just. reading your answers to asks because it spoils the fic to me. BECAUSE I'M SO CURIOUS BUT I CANNOT READ IT FOR THE LIFE OF ME. I'm just, like, hopping onto the comfort like a coward :D

This is in no way /neg I hope you know; it's extremely /pos because wow, this has never happened to me before. Normally I can read angst just fine, BUT GOLLY THIS KICKED MY HEART AND I'LL ONLY RECOVER IF I JUST READ YOUR ASKS INSTEAD KSHDKHD. Keep up the amazing absolutly marvellous job, have a great rest of your day! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

oh my god yeah if that's too much for you, i really do not recommend trying to brute force your way through it because it culminates in a really upsetting murder attempt (like. it is essentially a foxhunt. leo pins him down and stabs him while he screams for his dad. he begs raph not to kill him. they talk to him like they would any villain in the show, with this callous disregard for the fact that he is starving and sobbing and begging for his life.) and on a more emotional verbal/psychological abuse levels there's things like the FAMILY MEETING which is genuinely just...... horrific lmfao, it gets Nasty (although personally i find the weight rack scene more upsetting because its so much more grounded to reality, i can FEEL the shame oooh man)

i am a little sad that there are people who read CW and not CL because i think CL is my favorite thing that i've ever written so far, but i completely understand if its difficult to stomach. you can probably pick everything up through context clues (especially if you've also read ME) if you think CL is too much for you!! id write a summary to help, but lol CL is just a collection of scenes and there are some things that are better not clarified/revealed later down the line. reading asks here might help though, yeah!!

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

one thing i really like is how they obviously went out of their way to match asahi's speech patterns with his and yotsuyu's father. the guy is a minor NPC who barely has any lines, and yet despite him being an old man who doesn't particularly look like asahi he uses the exact same inflections and tone of voice. you've already been listening to asahi being a creep this whole time, and then suddenly if you're paying attention it becomes so clear where he got it from. he really does just sound exactly like his dad.

(and it makes absolutely everything about the situation that much more skin-crawling, considering what their father is actually saying in the scene where that stands out the most.)

again, minor NPC with very little screentime; it would have been easy for them to just give him A Voice and be done with it, and instead they took the opportunity to imply volumes about asahi and his dynamic with his family in such an effective, understated way. anyway the naeuri siblings are ruining my life

[not-that-dillinger]

...thoughts for a verse where Ed is still under his father's control.

In this situation, Ed would be a lot more adverse to physical touch because his father would weaponize forms of touch that were meant to be affectionate. Hugs are a show for when they're in public, or a means to restrain him, a pat on the shoulder or back is a sign that he'd fucked up big time and he'll have to face the consequences when they get home. A hand through his hair is a warning, and if he doesn't stop, he might get his hair pulled at. A hand to his face, to make him look means he's going to get yelled at.

The only place his father won't touch him is his hands, because Edward Dillinger Senior needs his son to be able to shake hands with other business partners without flinching.

Ed would probably still get uncomfortable if anyone held his hand for longer than five seconds, though.

[amischiefofmuses]

Notes on the Moon boys

I've decided I'm not entirely sticking with the show, nor am I entirely sticking with the comics. As usual it'll be a mix of both with a sprinkling of my own ideas in there. Of course I will be making a page for them but I've yet to get around to that - so here's this spill of thoughts 'til then. Also I will note that while I've done my research on DID I am by no means an expert and welcome any corrections on mistakes I may make - I endeavor to be nothing but respectful with my portrayal.

General notes:

- The suit design they wear is not indicative of who is fronting, it's a matter of choice. If it's more convenient to remain in one suit rather than changing as they switch, that is what will happen. - The suit is what gives them their powers and they can't summon it during the day. This won't stop them working if they feel they need to, instead they utilize their own respective skills in whatever way they need to. - They do have a false copy of the suit for if they have to show up as Moon Knight during the day, however they will bluff their way through pretending they have their powers while wearing it. - Their powers grow stronger or weaker depending on phases of the moon, when it is full they are at their strongest and new moon is where they are at their weakest. The suit still functions, healing will just be slower and far more painstaking. - They don't require mirrors to interact within their system, Marc and Steven are capable of direct dialogue with each other these days. Both are aware there is likely a third alter but have yet to interact directly with him as far as they're aware. However he has occasionally left clues for 'missions' - often left at the door as though they are sent from a mysterious stranger.

- His childhood follows the storyline in the show, he blames himself for his brother's death, as did his mother - her abuse on top of his grief and survivor's guilt led to him developing DID as a coping mechanism. - Skilled fighter - former soldier and mercenary, most often the one fronting while they do their work as Moon Knight. - Very open about his situation while in the role of Moon Knight, mentioning Khonshu and Steven as 'voices in his head'. Often dismissed as 'crazy' by others, he plays into this purposefully as it often leads to people underestimating him. - Lacks self preservation when fighting as Moon Knight, he is known for taking hits that others would have dodged and then still just getting up. My favorite description is: He will crawl up the sword he's impaled on just to strangle you to death. - Does actually believe in the work he does as Moon Knight, serving justice as the fist of Khonshu. This doesn't mean he actually likes Khonshu, he is just a means to have that power to protect the travelers of the night, he still loathes that bastard bird. - Will kill if hes 100% sure a criminal deserves it (murderers, rapists, etc.) Or for self defense. Won't kill robbers, thieves or such unless he has no choice. - Can imitate Steven's accent if he has to, though he's not as good at it.

- British accent, will also use British colloquialisms. Can't imitate Marc particularly well though more due to mannerisms and confidence than not being able to do the accent. - Often helps ground Marc when he begins going off the rails, helps talk through things, serves as a soothing calming presence. - Occasionally fronts while they do their work as Moon Knight when a more delicate approach is needed or problems need solving, he is shockingly intelligent (especially when it comes to puzzles, languages and history). - Not happy with the whole killing people thing, this is often a point of contention between himself and Marc. He'd much prefer to just maybe beat them up and leave them for the police to find. - Doesn't particularly enjoy or tolerate pain well, will dodge blows being dealt if he can help it. - Generally prefers doing the more mundane day to day things that Marc would rather avoid, so he'll be the one getting the shopping, doing the laundry, etc. Often does so while listening to audio books. He quite enjoys the wind-down from the usual wild pace of their lives. - Very honest and open about his feelings.

- Speaks Spanish as his first language but still fluent in English, might pretend he doesn't known English if it means people are more likely to talk shop around him - thinking he can't understand. - Can imitate both Marc and Steven's accents if he feels he needs to. - Works as a cab driver, uses this to get information about things that are going down - often people don't think about the cabbie as they discuss their business and that works well for him. - QUICK to violence and brutal with it too, he's a 'no bullshit' kinda guy and will front if he feels they're in dire straits. If that means killing people who might not entirely deserve it, so be it. No bother to him as long as he keeps himself standing. - Is well aware of his situation thanks to Khonshu, has no ill will toward the other alters and actively tries to help them with their work cleaning up the streets. - Surprisingly charismatic and chatty when he's not fighting, this man is used to holding conversations in his cab and can charm people fairly easily. Who do you think got Steven that date when he worked at the gift shop? 'Cause it sure wasn't Marc given he still loves his wife. - Fighting style is downright feral. I'm talking honey badger kind of nonsense, he's here to kill and he doesn't care how messy it has to get for him to get that job done. - The only one 'loyal' to Khonshu, more willing to kill those that cause trouble for those travelling at night - regardless of how serious the crime.

[ambrosia-vinca]

They couldn't say it, at that time, but Illario missed his parents, his siblings, his aunts and uncles, and he knew Lucanis did too. His cousin, diligent as always, had thrown himself into Caterina's lessons, but the past year had taken a visible toll on them both – Lucanis never spoke of wyverns anymore, his favorite picture book, marred with dried bloodstains, tucked under a pile of heavy volumes on poisons and history; and while his intense, focused gaze had returned, his smiles hadn't, rare as they had been already. Illario had to smile for two in those days, even when lifting the corners of his mouth pained him.

-

A tale of Lucanis and Illario's strange youth, and of the conflicted hatred slowly simmering in Illario's mind.

[norbezjones]

In my latest project for NaNoRenO 2025, we tell the story of young Cerule from To Train A Killer.

Are serial killers born or made?  As we explore the story of a child's first kill, find an answer to that question.

CW for: death; physical, verbal, & emotional abuse; child neglect.

Link to play if you don’t feel like scrolling back up: https://norbez.itch.io/to-train-a-killer-cerules-story .  If there are any bugs or problems, don't hesitate to let us know!

Everyone on the team did a fantastic job on this. First of all, cheers to the wonderful Kaidao for creating the story and writing the script for this game!  I really love out it turned out; the imagery is fantastic!

Shoutout to our VAs: LolsytheVA voices Cerule wonderfully as always, Ryan Gaiser plays Andrew with great skill, and Patti Knox came up with such a sweet voice for Cerule's abusive, neglectful mother--I love that contrast!

rossthepianist always does a amazing job with the music. He also uses layers with each track so that certain elements can be added or removed in accordance to the scene! That has been present in all 3 TTaK games!

Ryan & Patti are new to the TTaK series, & we had other new people as well! Lemon Ink did the programming (wonderfully, I may add); Panino did the beautiful sprites that exceeded my expectations, & Esteban Garcia (Polegacy) did the fabulous backgrounds that bring the game to life! Finally, I got to give a shoutout to the character designers: CozyStar for designing young Cerule & Cerule’s mother, DJ_WereWolf for designing Cerule in the first place, Kashi Maadsen for the updates to Cerule’s design, and Panino for designing Andrew.

[revon-aurora-borealis]

you ever be singing pretty well and then something in the back of your throat just decides to not and gives out at really key moment of the song?

[winner-mizi]

I always love to interact with my fans! Even when they do things that make me uncomfortable...I could never say no to a fan!

[amischiefofmuses]

[ 👨‍🏫 ] how much does your muse care about image? how would they react if something personal got leaked about them?

[ 🔇 ] is your muse a pushover, or do they tend to stand up for themselves?

for each of Moon Knight's alters! for Specter, Jake, & Steven!

Headcanon memes || Accepting

[ 👨‍🏫 ] how much does your muse care about image? how would they react if something personal got leaked about them?

Steven is a bit painfully honest really, he certainly cares about how others view him but also I don't know he has much that could come out about him that he'd not awkwardly ramble about already. There's very little space between thought and speaking, it's part of why he stumbles over himself a LOT and sometimes says the most awkward things in the world. Out of all three of them, he's the one who'd take it most graciously, probably awkwardly laughing it off as he does most of the time. Silly him, as usual. Marc is a very private person who cares a GREAT DEAL about image, he doesn't often share things purely because he doesn't like showing weakness, as that means admitting he has any issues in the first place. Denial would probably be his go-to if something came out about him, that or deflection, simply moving the topic elsewhere. Should either of those be unsuccessful then he'd go to anger and frustration, why do you want to know about him anyway? Aren't there other things to worry about? LEAVE HIM ALONE. He doesn't care if people see him as rude/the bad guy if that alternative is showing weakness. Jake's also a very private person by nature, but his is less from fear and more from not liking himself. He was created in violence, that is an intrinsic part of who he is (in his eyes) and he doesn't want others to see him as a monster because he's doing what he's MEANT to do. This is why whenever he's not having to be violent, he's the softest and sweetest man - he's convinced himself that a lot of it is an act, something to make him feel less monstrous. It's entirely imposter syndrome, as he's completely ignoring that he's doing it because he truly wants to and not because it's some devious act. I think his response to people 'figuring him out' would be to run - he'd not stick around to find out how they react, he can't know. Time to cut things off and get out of there.

[ 🔇 ] is your muse a pushover, or do they tend to stand up for themselves?

Steven is a bit of a pushover but it depends entirely on circumstances - he is more than happy to tell someone to sod off if they're being too pushy or if he's stressed - or if he feels he has good reason to, but generally he will just kinda go along with what others want of him. Marc is another tricky one because he's practically the opposite of Steven. In day to day he's more likely to not be a pushover, he's fine with being seen as a dick for refusing things or being closed off. However if told to by a serious authority figure, he struggles to stand his ground - his family trauma plays a huge part in this as standing up to his mom would get him punished. Jake can be a bit of a bleeding heart if he feels someone needs him, in that respect he's ABSOLUTELY a pushover and a big softie. This is only as long as he thinks he's helping those who need someone to care for them, those who might not have a choice but to rely on outside assistance. Otherwise it's a matter of him only doing what is asked of him if it already aligns with what he wants to do.

[ferrunough]

@bloodywickhead

What’s y deal with forced evolution then? Can’t keep y mouth shut when a random post comes with it, has t be somethin interestin there.

it’s more i can’t keep my fingers still. can’t use dictation on my phone and even if i could it would not pick up a lick of what i were saying

about the main question, two of my pokémon were evolved prematurely through rare candies. Ramohm, my oldest partner, was a birthday gift from my folks. he was a toxel for less than a week. folks had crushed up a bunch of those exp things into his kibble so he’d evolve sooner and they could boot me out. he was in really bad health for ages. five years later he is better but he’ll never be anywhere near a normal toxtricity’s level. very poor immune system which is saying something for a poison type, and his muscle didn’t develop properly when he evolved

Adelene is a recent addition to my gang, houndoom with only her two back legs. found her abandoned on the volcano on a day out, took her to a center, worker recognised her. we pieced together that Ads had been ditched by her old person because when she evolved at not even a month old her front legs didn’t evolve with her, effectively. if anything they malformed during the evolution. what were left of them were removed

[landscaping-your-mind]

do you ever trust someone? like, you're ready to forgive everything they've done, you well and truly love them, believe that they'll help you, that they'll protect you, that they'll be a good fucking mom, and then they let you down. and then you're sitting there wondering "how did i even think it would work?"

why did i do this again? trust just... gets you nowhere. you forgive and forget and it does nothing, it never does anything, nothing changes, nothing will change, it's this forever, and for some fucking reason you always go back to forgiving her. you will always go back to thinking things will change.

[codenamehazard]

.:Jabberwocky:.

Chapter 32: Jabberwocky

[TRIGGER WARNING: PSYCHOLOGICAL ABUSE, TORTURE AND TRAUMA]

Hey guys! Sorry I'm a bit late with this chapter! The character voice was giving me serious hell! (Writer's Block, my behated)

Though it's not surprising considering all that I have in store here! Good god, I had to fight to get the words on the document but boy howdy is it worth it!

I hope you've got some water as this is gonna be a doozy. I hope you like this chapter!

Without delay, let's jump in!

---

“No…”

My blood freezes in my veins and my heart races as I stare with wide eyes at the mirror behind me. I’m looking at it, I’m seeing it, but I don’t want to believe it. I refuse to believe it. I refuse to believe that the bastard is here in this hell-maze with me, that he’s here at all. I can deny it all I want, but the mocking smile in the mirror. I know what’s in front of me, replacing my reflection and confirming a fear that I always dread…

Kessler.

“Look what the rabbit dragged in.” The decrypted echo sneers as he begins to circle me in the mirrors that surround me, stepping in front of the other reflections as if they were spectators about to watch a fight. “The coward who denies the truth, even though it’s staring him right in the face.”

“So says the murderer that took everything from me just because he was too much of a fucking coward to face the Beast himself until it was too fucking late.” I snarl back at the twisted reflection, trying to use my rage and hatred to thaw the frozen blood and shake the fear away. “You took away everything I held dear, that we held dear; You killed Trish, you made Zeke betray me! You made my life fall to shambles and even fucking lied about what the Beast was actually doing, all for what?! All because you were too chickenshit to actually protect your family and fight the Beast.” The bastard fucking laughs at me like I was just a yapping ankle biter.

“Oh that is rich coming from you, Cole.” That fucking crone cackles with that sneer. “The one who kills for shits and giggles calling me a murderer. All the pain I caused was done for a purpose while you inflict pain because you are broken inside.” I can feel my blood seeth as he talks, energy gathering in my hand as I keep my eyes on Kessler. “Face the facts, Cole. I would say you’re no better than me, but I dare say you’re worse. All that I did was for a reason while you lash out like a pitiful, sniveling rabid dog who bites and scratches at all who get too close.” I could swear I can feel his stinking breath on my neck as he stops behind me.

“Try as you might, MacGrath… You will always end up alone and you will have no-one to blame but yourself. Because it will always be your fault.”

My rage flares red hot and an Alpha rocket rips from my hand towards the old fuck, but I damn near get blown to bits. In my fury I had forgotten the nature of the very place I’m in. The rocket just bounces off the mirror and I barely have enough time to get out of the way of a direct hit. I curse to myself as I feel the pain from the blast radius, why the fuck did I even think that was a good idea in the first place?! Kesslar cackles at me as I stagger to my feet.

“Still as predictable as ever, Cole!” The crone scoffs as he seems to grow bigger, like a looming shadow. “Lashing out when you know I’m right.” As much as my anger bubbles under my skin, the fear, it creeps back in. Feeling so small, being so helpless. There’s only one thing I can do. I turn and run down the closest hallway to get away from this specter and start looking for a way out.

I can hear the bastard laugh at me over the thumping of my boots and the rapid beating of my heart. Mocking and sadistic.

“There you go! Running away again like the cowering mutt you are! Running from the truth and running from responsibility when it comes to take its due! Breaking the promise you made to yourself so long ago!” I curl my lips at the barbing words, but I have to keep running. I can’t fight, not without obliterating myself in the process! “Maybe it’s for the best that Trish is dead. She isn’t here to see the whimpering coward the man she once loved has become!”

My rage claws inside my chest as I want to scream.

The mirrored halls, I swear they’re messing with my head. I think I could see things changing, I look at one shifting reflection, watching it change into a sight disturbing and familiar. It was myself from years long past, but something’s not right. It’s faded, black and white. Almost like I'm staring at a fading memory, but the eyes I can see, clear as day. They look tired, but also full of pure hatred.

Another reflection, this one more vivid and crisp, one I’m more familiar with. The reflection that greeted me every time I looked into glass windows or puddles back in Empire City. God, I looked like I was walking dead with how pale my skin was, and the black marks that decorated my body didn’t help either. I liked it that way, people left me alone, but now being on the receiving end of that malicious gaze and cruel smile? I’m having second thoughts.

“You!” I hear a new voice ring out as I run. It’s not Kessler’s but mine! It sounded clearer, less gravelly and tired. Oh please don’t tell me the other reflections can talk too!  “I see you, running away, running from the truth! The truth that you’re just as responsible for the destruction of my life! Actually, more responsible!!” I growl at that lie. I didn’t do jackshit to destroy the life I once had, if anything, I was trying to get it back! The blame is Kessler’s and his alone.

“I can hear your thoughts, Cole!” The faded echo barks out with loathing and hate. “You weren’t trying to get life back on track, you were just acting on your own selfish impulses! If you had just sucked it up and been a half-way decent person, Trish would have loved you in her dying moments! But no, your own ego was more important than the woman you claimed to love so much!” I do my best to tune out the venom, but the words cut like knives as I feel a familiar pricking against my eyes. No! I can’t cry, not now! Not when Kessler’s chasing me.

As one voice is tuned out, another erupts in cruel, callous laughter… This voice, it sounds more like how my voice actually is.

“Oh how the mighty has fucking fallen, o’ so called “Demon of Empire City!”” I hear the doppelganger’s voice call out. “Once on top of the world sitting on a throne of scrap, now you’re nothing more than a sniveling weakling running around helpless.” Rage flares in my blood, but I have to keep moving. I can’t fight here, I have to get out! Get away!

“You sicken me. You know that, Cole?” The echo sneers. “You’re a failure. You failed to protect Empire City from the Beast, you were too weak. Running with your tail between your legs to New Marias. Then you bow the knee to the Beast himself just because of some pathetic notion of “the right thing” or some shit like that. Now look at you, you have the power of the Beast yet you’re running scared when you could simply blow this whole place to cinders.” I want to scream at the voice, tell him to shut up, blow up the mirror that the doppelganger hides in, but I know I have to keep going. Doesn’t make the words any less infuriating and painful.

“Why don't you unleash all that power, Cole?” The taunting continues. “Are you too scared? Are you not as powerful as you claim to be or…. Perhaps… Are you getting soft, you pathetic failure?” Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!!!!

I pick up the pace, my hands covering my ears to drown out the cruel words and venomous barbs as they start to swirl around in my head. Now I am being hunted by three, making my heart frantic. The fear and pain, it was like I was losing Trish with the magnitude of it all. I want to get out of this hell, even if it means disappearing! I just want it to stop!

I think I see something, but I refuse to look at the reflections. I think I hear something, but I refuse to uncover my ears. Enemies everywhere even though they wear my face. All thirsting for my blood and tears. Such things I refuse to give despite the stringing at my eyes. Soon my own voice joins the hellish cacophony, screaming at these demons as that is all I can do.

The more I yell, the more I run around practically blind and deaf, the more confused I get. At this point I’m not sure where I’m running. I can faintly hear laughter every time I clip myself on a corner, ram into a wall or run in circles. I’m lost, so hopelessly lost in my desperation for freedom. My voice is going hoarse from shouting and screaming. The idea of just going fucking nuclear and unleashing hell in the form of the Beast’s Rage is becoming more and more appealing, but with the nature of this hell, that would surely kill me in the process.

I stop at a dead end and fall to my knees, my eyes welling with tears that spill over as I rage inside this mirror nightmare. I just want it all to stop. I want this to be a night terror that I’ll wake up from but I know this is reality. My arms growing tired from holding my hands over my ears, they go slack. I am now exposed to the full brunt of the devils’ venom….

Wait… Who said that?

A voice I didn’t hear before screams with a similar force that I did, but the words they speak aren't venom and hate, but…. Instructions? Directions? I can’t tell at this moment, but it’s something that isn’t loathing and malice. At first I don’t believe these words, thinking them to be a trick or a trap, but with the hateful sounds closing in and with no other option… I follow the directions.

It’s then I see who the voice belongs to. Another faded and blurry reflection, but this one looks unfamiliar. It’s still me, but he shares my tanned skin, his scars barely visible, his shirt grey and white, Amp shining like silver and the sparks off of his hands a brilliant blue… This is what Kessler wanted me to be… A hero.

The blue sparked reflection continues to point and shout directions, seeming to be trying to help me, but why?! I make it no secret, I am not a good person. If this is the hero Kessler wanted, he should be hurling abuses at me just like the others. I’d even go as far as to say he’s the one with the most right to hate me as I am the reason he doesn’t exist. Yet here he is, trying to help me.

I open my mouth to question, but my blue twin snaps. “Not the time, Cole! They ain’t gonna stop for you to ask questions.” I get the message loud and clear and keep running.

I follow the instructions, focusing on that as it’s better than the miasma that I’m being subjected to. I have so many questions to ask, what is happening? Why is it happening? Why are you helping me? Just anything to make sense out of this fucking madhouse, but I keep moving, hoping that I’m not falling into another trap.

My heart sinks as I see that I’m at a dead end and I’m about to bolt, but I notice something… At the end of this hallway is another mirror, but with a very different reflection.

I cautiously walk towards it and squint my eyes, it looks… Fuzzy, almost like a photo that hasn’t been developed. On closer inspection, I can see some things that make it look more like a reflection of my current self, black pants with kneepads, my vest. Visible, yet blurry… The only thing I can see clearly are the eyes of this copy. They’re closed, as if sleeping. What could this mean?

As I look over this mirror, I notice something else. The cruelty of the three devils hunting me, it’s gone. This area is quiet, still and peaceful. Here with my heroic twin, but why is this so? At this point, I care little for the question as I slam my back onto a reflective wall and slide down into a sitting position, hands holding my head as my chest shudders and heave with tears I’m fighting back.

“Not giving up on me are you, Cole?” My blue reflection asks. I sniff a bit as I struggle and shake my head. “Nah…” I reply in a voice that’s more strained than I’d like. “I just….. Need a breather.” The white clad hero nods his head and simply sits in a way that mirrors mine, back to back. “Take your time, Cole. Catch your breath.”

This peace is strange, but compared to the hell I was subjected to? It’s a soothing balm on my mutilated soul and I let some of the tears flow freely. A small relief to keep the dam intact, for now at least.

When the peace has passed, the heroic MacGrath pipes up. “I know you have a lot of questions, but since it’s just us, best get them out of your system.” I turn my head and I can see the blurred reflection turn in kind. I start off with a simple “Why?”

“Why what?” My blue twin asks. “Just… Why? Why is this happening? Why am I being tortured? Why are you helping me?” I ask back in kind. The hero frowns and shakes his head. “As much as I want to answer the first two, all I can say is your guess is as good as mine as I have no clue either… But I can answer the last question. I’m helping you because I can’t stand this suffering.”

“But why?” I continue to question. “You out of all the reflections have the most reason to hate me. I’m everything you would stand opposed to, hell I’m the reason you don’t exist. Why help me when you could come after me as some sort of punishment?”

“And subject you to this hell?” He balks “I wouldn’t even wish this on Kessler, let alone myself. Good or evil.” His eyes stare off into whatever silvery void the mirrored world has. “Besides… I got to see where my path leads to. Got to see that even though I did everything right, it meant jackshit in the end.” He turns to glance at me again. “That all I did was pointless. Utterly pointless”

I’m about to ask him to elaborate, but he shakes his head. Something must have gone completely fubar if he doesn’t want to talk about it even if it’s to bitch and vent.

“So…. Where’s the exit out of this hellhole?” I ask, the heroic twin turns his head and points to the mirror at the end of the hallway. I turn to look at him like he’s crazy. “Um, that’s a wall.”

“It’s the way out.” He simply responds. “It’s the only way out. The reason there’s a wall is because you believe there’s a wall.” I shake my head at this crazy talk. “How do you know if that’s a wall or not?” I question the reflection. He looks at me. “You’re going to have to trust me and by extension, trust yourself.”

“I don’t do trust fall-type bullshit.” I point out bluntly. “You should know this as much as I do.”

“Why would I lie to the only one of any of us in this damn mirror hell that has a future at all?” My blue twin points out harshly. “It’s a cold hard fact, Cole. Out of all of us here, you’re the only one who has a chance at living.” I stand and he stands in kind; both of us staring at each-other, man-to-man.

“While you are right, you are everything that I stand against. You’re selfish, egotistical, ruthless, sadistic, irresponsible, downright dangerous and destructive to the point of senselssness, but you’re also fucking honest about it.” He points out. “Then there’s also the fact when it came time to choose between a gamble that if it fell short would leave everyone to suffer slow and agonizing deaths or go with John and the method that was proven to give humanity even the slightest sliver of a chance to come out the other side. You chose what you felt was right. It may not be what Kessler wanted and there may have been selfish motivations behind it, but you still made that choice.” I look at my twin puzzled, but he’s right… Right about everything, good and bad.

“This is your ticket not only to escape this hell, but to escape Kessler for good.” He continues. “That bastard already took two futures away from you, your future with Trish and my future. Don’t let him take this one away from you too.” His words ring out in my head like a gunshot as I look towards the blurry mirror. “I know it’s a leap of faith, but please take it! Take it and get the hell out of here! Live the best life you can… For the both of us… Please…” The last words fall like a pleading whisper. Looking into the same blue eyes we share, I can see it. The same eyes I have, the eyes of a broken man.

I stare at my good twin for a moment longer before I nod my head.

With that, I turn to face the blurred reflection. I step back a few paces and charge up a polarity wall to act as a battering ram, hoping that this won’t backfire. Unleashing all of my emotions in one, booming battle cry, I charge.

I swear I can hear the ghost of a whisper in my mind. A soft “thank you” as I make contact only to fall through thin air.

I roll through the tumble and onto my feet before looking around, panting hard. He was right… It wasn’t a wall, it was an illusion… Was that whole maze and the horrors within an illusion too??

Once I’m not disoriented as shit, I start to look around this new place. I see bleachers, a trapeze and a barrier… Am I in the center stage of this fucking circus? Before I can start to explore, I hear a familiar female voice ring out with an Irish accent.

“It’s about bloody time you showed up!!”

[lunarscaled]

⋇ THIS VOICE THAT HAS BEEN BOUND TO FATE DUTIFULLY SERENADES: HIGH FANTASY

...the only thing granted equally to all is an unfair reality. ( TLDR at the bottom. )

Once upon a realm, in the foothills of a steep mountain, there was a kingdom that laid over the layer of a powerful white dragon, whose presence covered all the terrain in thick layers of snow and ice. Their crops could not grow, and their people could not flourish, and merchants and travelers never came with their wares in fear of an unescapable winter and vicious beast. The citizens of the kingdom, in a shambled state between death and terror, begged the ruling family to do something, unable to leave with nothing to their names. To quell the power of the merciless dragon, the royal family pursued endless leads, and fell upon but a single answer in their own daughter: a powerful, beautiful song magic that would lull the dragon into a deep sleep.

The King and Queen were despondent---would they really sacrifice their daughter to a life of spellcasting merely to subdue a dragon? But the princess was of a tender heart, and she insisted; her only request as that she marry the boy of a noble house who she loved, so that they could have a child together, so that they would not be without an heir and her husband would not live alone if she did not succeed. After three years of harsh winters and trepidation, the first Dragon Maiden descended to the lair of the dragon, dressed in crystals and silver and flowing silks, disguised as an offering. Arrogant, the dragon believed this lie, and cast his eyes upon her as she danced and sang for him. Without realizing her intent, the dragon fell into a deep sleep.

But the spell would not last forever. Each month the Dragon Maiden must descend into the lair of the dragon to cast her song, and each month she sang a little more of her life whittled away in service of humbling the mighty beast.

The Prince Consort, looking upon his young son years into the affair, was under duress: how long must his wife continue this charade, doling her life out? What will become of the kingdom, when there is no longer a Dragon Maiden to keep the dragon at bay? The snow had begun to melt and give way to the vibrant ecosystem the mountain was meant to hold, and the fair springs and mild winters made the land rich for their people to live off of; sellers came to the towns to trade, and the commonfolk no longer feared the tyranny of the dragon beneath them. But that peace could not last if it was not asleep, and no sword or knight they had come across had a sword or swing strong enough to break its hide, so it could not be killed. The Prince Consort, desperate to someday relieve his wife of her burden, sent emissaries out across the content in search of one thing: to find all bearers of song magic and bring them to the Kingdom Selene. From them, from their children generations on, a new Dragon Maiden would be chosen; and for such a grim fate, one of the children of that family would be betrothed to the heir of the royal family, their life to be cared for in all aspects for their dutiful service to the kingdom.

And so, it was. With less than 100 families answering the Prince Consort's call, half as many came to live in the kingdom, motivated by various means to give their daughters (and sons) away to future princes and princesses, to the body of a dragon in a cold cold cavern beneath the earth. And to celebrate this morbid fate, the kingdom celebrated with flowers and fine fabrics and music---a four-day engagement of singing and dancing citizens of all ages, and from them a new Dragon Maiden selected, her hand sworn to the young prince for her beautiful voice and graceful foot.

Generations of families gave their bloodlines to the pursuit, and generations more would come flocking over centuries, hoping to change their fate by offering the fate of their own. The ruling family changes hands as easily as the Chosen Voice does, and in the blossoming garden of her parent's noble home was Lyric's own mother chosen. Still young, still sweet; Amélie Gravellese's parents knew even before she was of age that there was no better voice in all the kingdom. Flowers bloomed at a word, animals were soothed by her presence, the crops and herbs she grew all flourished under her songs. On her 18th birthday, she danced and sang on the stage for the spectacle and envy of all watching, and no more than a week later did she meet the Crown Prince to be betrothed. When the life of the current Dragon Maiden, the Queen's sister, began to diminish, they would be married so she could assume her duties: children, ruling, mothering succession.

But Amélie was a lively young girl, and the Crown Prince was distant. And when she lay arms outspread in a field of long grass and lavender, she was met by a quiet but honest farmhand with a steady gaze, who offered her a single rose that he held in his calloused hands. And together, they ran away.

you know where this story is going, don't you?

The farm boy and the Dragon Maiden ran away from the kingdom to be together, in love, eloping. At the same time, the crown prince's Aunt fell suddenly ill later that month and passed just as she was meant to renew the spell. With no Dragon Maiden prepared to perform the ritual, gradually the dragon rose from its hundreds-of-years slumber, rancorous that it had been deceived. Its roar quaked the ground of the whole kingdom, its presence set all life withering, and no amount of wealth or tribute or maidens would soothe what had been done.

With the blood of the Dragon Maiden on its teeth and cold wind at its back, the dragon laid waste to the kingdom---stood upon the crest of the King and Queen's castle and issued his decree: Sacrifice all who sing before me. Until you do, all your kin will become sickly and die, for all the years you have imprisoned me.

A dragon's curse.

For a decade the kingdom comes apart at the seams, bending to the will of a dragon. Sons and daughters are dragged before him, cast onto the stone by their hair and crushed, maimed, left to bleed to death. For a decade the King and Queen must sacrifice their own people, hoping it will be enough, and it never is. The kingdom becomes cold and barren once more, the ground hard where nothing grows. People flee, only the destitute and stubborn remaining, and all is silent where there once was much sound.

Somewhere not so far away, a young pair of twins were singing an old tune.

In the 10th year of their life, Lyric Gravellese suffers unexpectedly. Their mother's sickness suddenly overwhelms her following the birth of her fourth child, and their brother who had once made the crops and garden bloom with his joyous voice coughs blood like a songbird given to the grave. In that year, 7 months apart, both of them pass and are buried in the garden. Lyric weeps. Their father weeps. Their young sisters are too young to understand. The message comes a year from then from a passing farmer, his cattle hauling all he owns in a cart with his two children: the dragon calls for all who sing. He is seeking the last of them.

Lyric's father is angry the whole year before. He is grieving, wallowing, he drinks---Lyric sings softly to themselves in the garden and he seizes them by the hair, beats them until they think there is no other outlet for his sorrow. He thinks of his youngest children, he thinks of his wife and his son, and he looks at them with such disgust as they have never known. "I will give you to the dragon," he says, Lyric trembling in his fist, "I will save my children by giving you away." It is not a pleasant trip. A kingdom from a dark dream, covered in snowing clouds and sheets of ice, a castle with claw marks where the dragon sits and the ruins of the town where few shuffle about the streets. Their father stops on the edge of the city and tells them to go alone. They are his no longer. ( Lyric, no more than 11, feels their lip wobble and hot tears on their cheeks. his cold eyes do not change. they hug their arms around themselves and back away, hunched and sobbing. he does not stop to pity them. )

A young Lyric stands upon a stage for all to see. The dragon leans his long neck down towards them, inspects with his large terrifying blue eyes, huffs a breath through his nose that blows all their hair away from their face.

You are the last? questions the beast. They wish to end my curse, but my revenge has not been nearly enough. He leans his broad head away from them, raises it high and stares down. Lyric feels their body shaking in the wind and cold, longing for gentle hands and finding none. All eyes resent them, including the dragon's. Until I have had my revenge I will keep you here---I will keep you alive. The beast rumbles, full of malice. You will live your life in this castle, in this kingdom, imprisoned as I was. For as long as I wish it to be.

And so, it was. Their body was sliced open by a claw tip and sutured by the dragon's blood, inflicting a terrible longevity to their life in contrast to the brevity of the lives of those who sang, or once had. It hurt awfully, and they sobbed on the carpeted floor of the castle clutching their closing wound, begging for relief that would not come for many days. The dragon did away with the King, the Queen, and their son. All the servants of the castle who had not fled would now from the false prospect on the throne---a child. Not yet even in their teens. The Kingdom Selene was a putrid and decayed shell of its formal self, ruled by the child of the fled Dragon Maiden, who was despised by all their subjects. An evil child they hissed. Guilty.

Nearly a decade has passed since then.

That child, who was once so small they could curl up on the chair that was their throne to cry to sleep, is now the age their mother would have been when her time came to become queen. But what would they be queen of?

There is nothing here.

TLDR;

Lyric is the ruler of the desolate, ruined Kingdom of Selene, which once used Song Magic to quell the dragon that made its lair deep below the mountain and city. In revenge for all the years it spent imprisoned by the spell cast on it, the dragon cast a curse on all users of Song that their bloodlines should be weak, and that they will become frail and die. Desperate to save his youngest daughters, Lyric's father offered them to the dragon as the final Chosen Voice, to be slaughtered. Lyric, the last wielder of Song Magic in the boundaries of the kingdom, has been forced to consume the blood of the dragon to extend their life to prevent the curse from ending so that the dragon's revenge may continue until it is satisfied. Because of this blood, Lyric has grown to develop a number of draconic attributes, such as tough skin, scales, horns, and even a potent form of Ice Magic ( though not nearly as potent as the magic which keeps the kingdom in eternal winter. ) They have been in the position of "Prince/Princess" since they were 11 years old, and the sparse population of remaining citizens often refer to them as the "Child of Evil", believing their mother's elopement to be the source of the kingdom's collapse. Lyric's position and title can be considered hardly more than decorative. It is the dragon who rules the kingdom, who bends it to its whims and comes and goes as it chooses. Lyric is merely a figurehead trying desperately to do what they can to help the people, and a scapegoat for their anger and frustrations. Lyric cannot leave the kingdom---even if they tried to, his blood binds them to him, and he would retrieve them and raze the land they fled to. This does not prevent the kingdom from receiving visitors, but it rarely does so, for obvious reasons. Despite its tragic and violent state, the kingdom still sits upon a dragon's hoard, which the beast leaves and returns to bring more wealth to at its leisure. This hoard is a temptation to many, though it rarely ends well if the beast catches them first. Lyric is far more merciful, wishing only to preserve as many lives as possible, feeling responsible for all the tragedy and grief that plagues a once prosperous place.