#masters of the universe: forge of destiny

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Out this week: Masters of the Universe: Forge of Destiny #1 (Dark Horse, $3.99):

Dark Horse returns to Eternia in this four-issue prequel to the Netflix Masters of the Universe: Revelations show. It’s by Tim Seeley, Eddie Nuñez, Brad Simpson and AndWorld Design.

See what else is arriving in comic shops this week

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Discover the secrets of Anwat Gar in Masters of the Universe: Forge of Destiny

Discover the secrets of Anwat Gar in Masters of the Universe: Forge of Destiny #MotU #HeMan #comics #comicbooks

Dark Horse Comics and Mattel present Masters of the Universe: Forge of Destiny, a prequel comic series to the hit Netflix series Masters of the Universe: Revelations. This new series is scripted by experienced Masters of the Universe writer Tim Seeley, illustrated by Eddie Nuñez, colored by Brad Simpson, and lettered by AndWorld Design. The first issue will also include two variant covers by…

[swervesfirstblaster]

my best friends <3

[frankensteined]

i'll never get enough of this trope

[geekcavepodcast]

Prequel Comic Series to “Masters of the Universe: Revelations” Announced

Dark Horse and Mattel have announced a prequel comic for the Netflix series Masters of the Universe: Revelations. Masters of the Universe: Forge of Destiny hails from writer Tim Seeley, artist Eddie Nuñez, colorist Brad Simpson, and letterer by AndWorld Design.

“On the world of Eternia, a fragile balance exists between science and magic–a balance kept by the universe’s mightiest hero, He-Man! On a peaceful mission to the island nation of Anwat Gar, the royal Eternian caravan comes under attack by the minions of the evil Skeletor. And on the island itself, the nefarious Evil-Lyn sets in motion a plan that could lead to all-out war!” (Dark Horse)

Masters of the Universe: Forge of Destiny #1 (of 4) goes on sale on September 6, 2023.

(Image via Dark Horse - Cover of Masters of the Universe: Forge of Destiny #1)

[inhuman-obey-me]

Collab pair piece for Barbatos’s birthday 2023!

Art by Mod Cosmos

Writing by Mod Chaos

Arrhythmia

Can also be read on ao3 here Word count: 10.7k Description: Time, with all its endless possibilities and unknowable branches, is infinite. Yet, certain patterns exist. Some things are fated. And for Barbatos, master of time and space, the heartbeat of fate underlying each strand of time is the constant. This is what time is. This is what time means. Infinite timelines, branching and collapsing, splitting and merging, to the end of time. Until you. You were not part of fate -- not that familiar pulse of passing time he knew so well. You weren't, until suddenly, you were.

Prologue

"I desperately needed to obtain your power to control time, Barbatos..." "I was surprised you'd come to me with such a foolish request, considering you are known as 'Solomon the Wise.'" "But that was before I had my over-the-top nickname, wasn't it? No one called me that yet..." "Indeed. But I knew that people would start calling you that in the near future, you see. Just like I knew that the two of us would eventually forge a pact."

Barbatos has never felt uncertain before.

A demon who has existed since the dawn of time, who controls the very fabric of time, he has seen all of the universe that there was to see.

You see, time, with all its endless possibilities and unknowable branches, is infinite. It is, truly. Yet, certain patterns exist. Some things are fated -- Lucifer's rebellion, the brothers' fall, King Solomon the Wise. These are destiny; these are inevitable.

And for Barbatos, master of time and space, the heartbeat of fate underlying each strand of time is the constant. This is what time is. This is what time means. Infinite timelines, branching and collapsing, splitting and merging, to the end of the universe. A heartbeat, steady and reliable, ever marching on, constant as his own.

Until you.

You were not part of fate -- not that familiar pulse of passing time he knew so well. He knew there were timelines where you would meet, yes. "Your" timeline, of course -- the one you know so well. Others as well. In some, "you" were a witch already; you weren't quite so powerless upon your arrival in the Devildom. In others, you came later, not in the first year of RAD's exchange program but further along, when relations between the realms had progressed more already. In others still, it was never you at all, but some other descendant of Lilith who had landed at Lucifer's feet that fateful day, when the second human exchange student was chosen.

These were the universes he knew existed. Infinite, innumerable -- and, ultimately, irrelevant. The future would march on, with or without you, and he would continue going about his life with Lord Diavolo. Fate would be fate, and those were the things that mattered.

Until you.

Knowing you would meet was different from actually meeting you. And meeting you, changed everything.

Meeting You

The first time he sees you, it barely even registers. He is present, of course, as his liege welcomes you and explains the exchange program to you. He oversees the brothers' introductions, notes the alarm on your face as you come to understand what your life is going to be for the next year. It's rather delicious actually, for the more primal of his demonic instincts, seeing the confusion and mild fear in your expression.

But a certain sorcerer has also just arrived in the Devildom, and Barbatos is a bit preoccupied with trying to determine just how much of a problem Solomon is going to be in this timeline.

The Witty Sorcerer is a constant. The immortal human king with whom Barbatos shares a pact is always a thread woven into his fate. He always decides to become a protector of humanity, and always comes to the conclusion that he must forge pacts with as many demons as he can, in order to gain enough power to hold his ground against the greater powers of the Devildom and the Celestial Realm. The exact demons and particulars of the pacts vary; some always fall for his tricks, while others cross his path by happenstance. Barbatos, for one, is never tricked into a pact but always simply accepts that he is meant to have one, for he has foreseen it countless times. Solomon almost always lands at 72 by this point, however -- that part is not quite exact from timeline to timeline, but also too close to be coincidence.

You catch the butler's attention just once that day, as Lucifer explains the struggle of humans' souls and demons' temptations -- it is then that Barbatos notices how your soul, hardly polished at all yet, nonetheless has a sparkle unlike any he's seen in a very long time. One he hasn't encountered, in fact, since he first met Solomon.

How fascinating.

That same sorcerer in question, however, leaves him little time to ponder the matter further, as his attention is quickly forced to the first of many troublesome texts he will receive from the inhabitants of Purgatory Hall this year.

"Hello, Barbatos. apppologies for the mail, buT I'M NOT VEry familiaR wit h Dev ldom cuisine  yet.. Is the kitcHEn meant To Flood with pu ripple bubbles when 1 cooks here? SIGNED, SIMEON"

At that, he makes a motion towards Lord Diavolo to be excused and quickly takes his leave to handle the situation.

And he takes no further notice of you for a while, nor you of him.

--

The next time Barbatos sees you, it's only a few short weeks later, and yet already, you've been quickly gaining quite the reputation.

He can soon see why, too.

You just had to cause chaos in the Demon Lord's Castle, didn't you? You couldn't just quietly complete your field trip with everyone, no. You just had to get yourself dragged into the depths of the castle's underground labyrinth -- and not just once, but twice.

Some version of you, cleverer, more cautious, never falls down there the second time. Other versions never make it out. Sometimes, the others notice your absence quickly enough for Barbatos to open a portal and retrieve you in time. Not always. And Asmodeus is fickle with his attentions -- as is Solomon, even if he pretends not to be. It's by lucky chance in this time that you see how to wield Asmodeus's powers that day, and luckier still that Solomon happens to lend you his magic that night.

"Just interested to see what they'll do with it," the sorcerer smiles, with that annoyingly blithe false innocuousness, when his pact-mate comes to inquire. "Aren't you interested, Barbatos?"

"No, I am not," he answers flatly. "My interest is only for all members chosen for Lord Diavolo's exchange program to have a successful and productive year here in the Devildom."

Solomon's pleasant expression drops just slightly; he gives the demon a very directed look. "Chosen by whom, Barbatos? I don't believe they were given a choice to come here like I was. I'm just...evening the playing field a little for the night. Surely it shouldn't hurt any chances of cooperation between the realms for a defenseless, magicless human to have a little bit of power for one evening?"

A tense smile, oh so familiar to the sorcerer, settles upon the demon's lips. "Of course not."

Barbatos leaves it at that, satisfied in any case that he sees you alive the next morning. A mild curiosity is piqued when he hears Asmodeus gushing about the fascinating, incredible power he felt from you the night before -- greater even than that of the famed sorcerer in their midst? That's odd, normally such strength would be more significant across timelines.

But he dismisses it quickly. Odd as it may be, in the vast breadth of the possibilities of time, if it's not significant, then that's that. It won't ultimately matter. In the endlessness of time, very little ultimately matters. The things that do pulse on as familiarly to him as his own heartbeat.

So he moves on.

"...Okay then, look into that for me, Barbatos."

"Yes, My Lord."

"Depending on how things turn out, it's possible we'll have the answers to all of our questions soon enough."

"Well, it would seem they've arrived."

"Yes, and even earlier than we thought."

The group of brothers, along with the human staying in their home, crowds into the room, Lucifer at their helm. "Diavolo, I want to talk to you."

The prince is unfazed; he and Barbatos had of course expected this when they'd taken Belphegor away. "Well hello, Lucifer. And yes, I assumed as much when I saw you at the door."

"What do we have here? Has the entire family come along today? So, you've all come along as a moving show of support and brotherly love, then?" the butler quips, before his gaze lands harshly on you. "Hmm...but it would appear that one among your number neither qualifies as a relative nor a demon."

Beelzebub stands protectively beside you. "That's right, they aren't a demon, nor are we related...but that doesn't mean we can't be on the same side. Isn't that right?"

You nod determinedly beside him. "You bet it is!"

Lord Diavolo examines you for a moment as the Avatar of Gluttony beams at your answer. "I see. Well, you may be a human, but it would seem you've found a home for yourself here in the Devildom. I have to say, I find that comforting."

The demon prince turns his attention back to the eldest of the brothers. "Now then, Lucifer, how about we hear what you have to say."

Barbatos's gaze lingers on you, however, remaining silent through the back and forth unfolding between the others. You aren't paying attention to him, of course, focused on the discussion over getting the family their seventh back. But he's spoken already with Lord Diavolo about this whole matter, and knows already what his master's decision is going to be. What you are going to do, on the other hand...

"Okay. I'll go alone."

There's that sparkle again. Just like Solomon's soul used to have.

Fated or not, there is something fascinating about you.

Even if this is just one thread of time, just one way for this all to play out, it is unusual. There's no such thing as an aberration in time, only variations that ultimately end up in the same inevitable places. The butterfly effect only flutters so far. Always.

And yet, something about you throws him off, just a bit.

You follow him out of the room, oblivious. It's your first conversation with him alone, even if it's not his first time seeing a conversation with you. "Did you know all of this was going to happen?"

He chuckles at the question. "Imagine for a moment what it would be like to know everything that will happen from now until the end of time."

Yes, imagine knowing everything -- as he does. Barbatos, demon with power over time. Barbatos, who can see anything, any timeline, past, present, and future.

"Why, nothing could possibly be more boring, wouldn't you agree?"

Barbatos, who has seen everything.

Barbatos, who has stopped looking. Barbatos, who uses his powers only for Lord Diavolo now.

"Which is precisely why I find it so very interesting and refreshing to have the chance to take a human like you into my room."

His pulse ticks just a little bit faster as he turns around to face you, opening the door behind him to usher you inside.

Why?

"All right, we've arrived. Please, come in."

He doesn't understand it yet, but there's just...something. Something about you. Something that makes the steady expectation of what comes next feel just a bit off-kilter around you.

Like you're inevitable. Even though he knows you aren't.

He knows this. He knows everything. He has seen everything.

Hasn't he?

He explains the rules and workings of time travel to you, emphasizing to you the consequences of breaking these rules -- "You run the risk of warping history."

You nod back to him, and he wishes you safe travels as he escorts you through the correct door.

And as you walk through, he feels it again. It's not just the sparkle of your soul. It's something more. Something else.

Something uncertain.

--

Something strange is happening in his room, Barbatos notes as he works, pulling various threads of time to his will.

He bends the timelines together, wrapping them into a single line.

You exist there, and there. This he knew. And yet, without his even touching them yet, there too does he find you. And there, and there.

He opens door after door, searching for each time you inhabit -- and in all doors, there you are.

Where have the others gone?

They existed once. There were other strands, other doors, other yous which were not you at all.

And yet, despite knowing this, despite knowing they should exist -- door after door, there you are.

You are only a human. You have no powers of your own. He has confirmed this -- you may have the blood of Lilith in you, but the power was never yours. And even Lilith could not exert her will over time.

That is his domain, and his alone.

So this shouldn't be. There's no reason for it. You shouldn't be everywhere.

And yet, there you are.

Everywhere. Always.

--

The brothers are all crowded over you, fighting over who gets to sit next to you. But there's a worry on your face, an insistent concern resting unsteadily on your lower lip.

"Is something the matter?" Barbatos inquires, though he has a sense already of what's on your mind. It has, after all, been on his too.

"Do you think I've warped history?"

Though all eyes are on you, yours are focused solely back upon the butler.

A nagging alarm tugs at the back of his mind with the same question -- have you warped history? Or more to the point, have you warped time?

But he knows that isn't what you're asking about. Not the same way.

"Ah...I take it you're worried about the other 'you' disappearing earlier?" He smiles lightly, explanation readied. "I know I told you that I have the power to see both the past and the future, but the truth is that there's one more secret -- something I still haven't mentioned."

Everyone's gaze shifts to him, their worlds decidedly rocked enough for a single day. None of the brothers are sure what new revelation he's about to unveil, and they're all on edge for it.

Still, his attention remains locked on you as he explains.

"You see, I have the power to select from any number of different potential realities and make any of them into the sole reality. With the various potential realities, there are an infinite number of 'you'..." He pauses, scanning your face for a reaction, but your expression is just as clouded and blank as it had been. He continues, "In the sole reality I chose, the one and only 'you' is the one right here. That's why the previous one disappeared while you remained."

Infinite realities. A "sole" reality.

It's a power he hasn't used in a very, very long time. One he doesn't especially care for, at his disposal though it may be -- what use is it to select these events that don't ultimately matter?

Fate is fate. Time is time. The inevitable is inevitable, and infinity continues moving. Some things simply are fated.

And now, so are you.

He searches your face for recognition. Do you even understand what he's just said?

But there is none. Of course not. No one here does, except him. He is the only one who knows what was fated. Naturally, then, he is the only one who understands what was not. And, with that, the only one who realizes the consequences of what this implies.

Still, the rest of the room stares on in silence, stunned at his nonchalant explanation.

Asmodeus is the first to pipe up. "You know, I notice how you sort of smiled as you said all that, but...um..."

"As far as abilities go, that's a pretty powerful one to have, don't you think?" Satan finishes.

"The Legend of Barbatos: Most Powerful of All Beings..." Levi chimes in, staring with awe.

Though Barbatos's smile remains steady on his face, something murmuring in his chest disagrees. He doesn't feel like the most powerful.

He feels off-balance. And now he knows why.

"Did you know all of this was going to happen?"

No. No, he did not.

An Ambiguous Fate

A great rumbling shakes the ground, the very earth moving erratically beneath them.

Barbatos leaps to attention, ready in an instant and immediately at Lord Diavolo's side. The prince nods at him, worry written all over his face in the form of a single, solemn acknowledgement. There is no time to lose.

It takes a short while to locate the epicenter of the quake, but once they do, they are at the mausoleum within moments, with the aid of a quick portal.

The damage is apparent immediately. Stone shards of fallen statues and broken coffins litter the ground, while gravestones and placards all across the cemetery floor have been flung askew from the force. And worst of all, the Demon Kings' Tomb rests deep at the bottom of a great crater, collapsed.

Barbatos inhales sharply, as the prince resolutely inspects the scene.

Between the two of them, easily two of the most powerful demons in the realm, they are of course capable of repairing the damage. But the greater issue here is the cause -- or more to the point, their lack of information thereof.

Earthquakes like this may simply occur in the human realm due to nature, but they're quite a bit different in the Devildom. They don't just happen, not to this scale. And they generally tend to be a bit more magical in nature.

But magic alone isn't enough to explain something this big. Magic is steeped into all the land of the Devildom, of course, but not to this extent. Even amongst demons, very few have this kind of raw power. And no such demon in existence would dare inflict such force upon the resting place of the realm's former kings.

"Let us record as much of the damage as we can, Barbatos," Lord Diavolo instructs seriously, and his butler nods, getting straight to work.

They comb across the space together, noting down every bit of destruction they encounter. It's soon apparent that most of it is aftereffects and collateral damage; the real impact was to the Demon Kings' Tomb, right at the center. And that too shows certain strange signs of what exactly had happened.

Though they initially treated it as a strangely powerful earthquake, it becomes quickly clear that's not the case at all. No, the ground did not simply shake, nor did it rend apart beneath the tomb -- it's as though the earth below had disappeared altogether. There are no signs of the ground shifting around the tomb at all, in fact, only the smattering of dirt laying atop its crumbled ceiling, loosed from the walls of the surrounding pit by the structure's fall. Nor were the walls toppled as one might have expected from shaking of the ground; instead, they appeared cracked from the bottoms upward, as though they had dropped straight down so that the impact had spiderwebbed up from their bases.

It's unlike anything Barbatos has ever seen -- in the past or future. And he has a suspicion as to why. A very unsettling suspicion.

His chest tightens, disquiet at the thought. He'd expected some changes to the future, yes; that was a given, after what he'd encountered in his room those few months ago. But something this powerful? This destructive?

"Well. That's rather troubling, wouldn't you agree, Barbatos?" Lord Diavolo murmurs, drawing his attention back to the situation at hand. "I suppose there's nothing more we can do for now but repair it, however. Shall we?"

"I suppose we shall," Barbatos nods at him, face set in a grimace.

Together, they combine their magic to restore the monument to its former condition, along with the rest of the graveyard -- the butler rewinding the state of things to a prior time, the prince lending his power to solidify that state back into the present.

They make sure to jot down any final observations before they leave, then return to the castle.

Lord Diavolo is about to leave when Barbatos stops him, "Young Master, before you return to your office, may I have a word?"

There's an uncharacteristic reticence in his voice, a hesitation the prince doesn't typically hear from his butler. He's always encouraged the other to voice his thoughts and opinions freely, regardless of their roles as master and servant. "Of course, Barbatos. What is it?"

"I believe I have an idea as to what was behind this. Though I can't quite yet explain why."

The crown prince's brows knit as the butler explains his theory, as well as the earlier abnormality. "And you're certain about that, Barbatos?"

"I am not. But I had never seen anything like it before. And what happened today was...unexpected. I can only assume that they may be connected."

"I see. Then, let me know if you determine anything more, please."

But without proof or explanation, there's nothing to do about it. For now, at least.

--

It's a bleak omen indeed when even the most powerful sorcerer ever to exist looks troubled by the problem he's been presented with.

"This is bad...really bad. It took something major to make the entire side of the cliff collapse like this," Solomon frowns, eyebrows knit as he appraises the damage. "I can't see the bottom from here..."

"This is the primeval forest," Barbatos explains. "As the name suggests, it's said that this forest has been here since the time of the Devildom's birth."

"It's hard to believe that such an enormous landslide could happen here in this forest. It truly is unheard of," Lord Diavolo agrees.

"First there was the incident at the Demon King's tomb a few days ago, and now this landslide...it would seem the effect is getting worse," Barbatos murmurs.

"Yes...which is worrisome."

Barbatos doesn't need to be told to worry.

Another unexpected blast of magic, another rippling burst of destruction in its wake. Another key Devildom location, suddenly in ruins. His chest feels tight more often than not lately, seeing your cheerful grin at play rehearsals juxtaposed with these grim, shocking scenes.

It's almost definitely because of you. And all the while, you have no idea. You're just going about your life, the same as ever.

"I hate to say it, but this isn't something I can handle on my own. Actually it's not just that I can't handle it. I doubt the Devildom itself can handle this on its own," Solomon says.

The Witty Sorcerer, living up to his name, had pieced it together almost as quickly as Barbatos himself had. But unlike the butler, his primary concern was not fate, or time, or what destined events had now been thrown asunder.

The immortal sorcerer was, almost touchingly, most concerned about you.

Well, that's not exactly correct. Of course, he's concerned first and foremost about humanity. But as a human, well, humanity includes you, and as the likely cause behind these recent events, he has been threateningly insistent that neither side make any moves to harm you.

Not that the Devildom's prince would, anyway; though his top priority is naturally on keeping the Devildom safe and stable, harming the human he'd brought for his exchange program would be very much against his ideals.

But still, this destruction is, as Solomon said, worrisome. They cannot simply ignore it.

The demon prince and former human king discuss, going back and forth about involving Simeon and the Celestial Realm. There seems little choice, begrudging and frustrated as Lord Diavolo may feel about it -- and for good reason, considering how their last interaction went.

"Young Master, what do you suggest we do about Lucifer and his brothers?" Barbatos inquires, piping up once the matter has been settled.

The prince grimaces. "That's the big question, yes...I'd like to avoid straining my relationship with Lucifer any more than I already have."

The other two nod seriously. Lucifer had been infamously loyal to him after the fall, and they'd become very close friends over the centuries as well, but the events of the previous year, between his fallout with Belphegor and the resulting months of lying right to Lord Diavolo's face, had been stressful for them both. And although the matter had since been resolved, they hadn't yet quite found their way back to that old amicability.

Lucifer had never kept secrets from him before. And now, Lord Diavolo was finding himself doing the same. He didn't like it.

"But even so..." He takes a long pause, eyes looking almost pleadingly towards Barbatos, as if begging him for answers. But the butler can only return his gaze, equally unsure of the right thing to do now. "...I think we should keep this from him just a little longer."

Solomon inhales sharply, then releases it in a deep breath, considering. "Are you sure that's the right thing to do?"

"No, it's a very bad thing to do...and I'm well aware of that," the prince sighs. "But...until we have proof that they are the original source of all this...I don't want him knowing about it."

Proof, yes -- something solid, something beyond the gnawing, restless noise of Barbatos's heart. Evidence to confirm his worst anxieties, beyond simply knowing that what he once knew to be true no longer is. He needs to calm down. It isn't the end of the world not to know what's coming next.

Is it?

Barbatos nods obediently, forcing his own reservations away. He will put his trust in Lord Diavolo. He wouldn't have chosen to serve him if his judgments weren't sound. He has faith in his prince -- he must.

"As you wish, Young Master."

Solomon looks wordlessly between them, letting his troubled silence hang in the air.

This is a mistake, and he knows it. And he knows Barbatos knows it too. But the butler avoids meeting his gaze.

Lord Diavolo, kind and judicious ruler as he is, is the one Barbatos has chosen to devote his life to, is the closest friend Barbatos has ever had. But it is the eyes of King Solomon the Wise who can see through him.

And he does not wish to be seen through. Not now, with all these anxieties weighing so heavily on him. The weight of all that he knows -- and all that he doesn't, for once.

--

"You said you would always be on his side. I'm asking whether you're really prepared to keep that promise."

"Of course," comes the answer, unquestioningly firm and so unperturbed that he doesn't even glance up from his work.

 "I wonder..."

Barbatos fixes a sharp stare upon the eldest of the demon brothers, who finally sets his pen down and narrows his eyes. "What is it you're getting at?"

Barbatos's expression remains unchanged as he thinks on how to formulate his words. If Lucifer could only convince him of his conviction of loyalty to the prince, perhaps these worries in his mind could be laid to rest. But whether the former angel realizes it himself or not, he has been changing. If Barbatos's suspicions are correct, Lord Diavolo will need the Lucifer's aid very soon. And unfortunately, he's no longer certain that such aid will be so easily given.

Unfortunately, he's no longer certain of a lot of things recently.

"If taking the Young Master's side meant hurting those closest to you, would you still do it?" the butler asks more pointedly. When Lucifer doesn't respond immediately, he continues, "If it really came down to that, I wonder if you could bring yourself to take his side...I imagine the old you really would be on his side always, just as you said. But is the new you capable of something like that? You're more gentle now than you used to be. You even exude a certain kindness...and love."

Lucifer only glares back suspiciously, anxious but unsure what exactly Barbatos is trying to say. Even after all these centuries working together, Diavolo's exceedingly loyal steward has never been an easy one to read.

"There was a time when you were known as 'the morning star,' and admired by all. People claimed that just a glimpse of your bright white wings and ruby red eyes could take one's breath away...now you've begun to slowly revert back to the way you were then. You've changed," Barbatos continues, a hint of something almost like an accusation in his voice. "And it started when the human first arrived."

He sees Lucifer's breath catch for a second at the mention of you, just a tiny pause, imperceptible to anyone else. The Devildom prince's right-hand man isn't known for giving away his weaknesses so easily. But then, Barbatos would not be the same prince's ever-present steward if he were not also sharp enough to notice.

He's seen how the former angel looks at you, and how he rushes home from their often late-running work more frequently these days, muttering excuses of needing to get back for dinner with his family. He's always loved his family, of course; Barbatos knows that. But this new affection, how he's been with you, it's...different. More unpredictable. More volatile.

His pulse quickens, voice steady despite his anxiety as he reaches his point. "But for the Young Master, and for the Devildom...is that really for the better?"

If Lucifer would only deny it. If he would only argue that any changes in this past year have been minor, that he's as loyal to Lord Diavolo as ever. For Barbatos, ever smiling, ever calm, full of steady reassurances that they are on the right path -- well, the demon with control over time itself could really use some reassurance himself right now. He would really like for Lucifer to tell him that he's wrong. For him to say that Barbatos is overreacting, or has misread things, or that everything is fine.

But he doesn't. He doesn't even try to. Instead, he's quiet, struggling with what the butler has just suggested. "Are you saying that there will come a day when I have to choose between them and my brothers on one side, and Diavolo on the other?"

"I wouldn't go so far as to say that's definitely going to happen, but..." Barbatos trails off, his chest feeling tight. It's not quite fear, or so he tells himself.

But if the strength of your sway has been powerful enough to throw the future into this degree of disarray...if your presence, your influence, has been so strong even to pull Lucifer from fate...

Barbatos forces the rising dread away, out of his voice, out of his mind. "The possibility exists that you really will be forced to make a choice like that someday. I thought perhaps it was in your best interest to be prepared for such an event...that's all I'm trying to say."

Now that he's said this much, however, Lucifer begins to rise from his chair with alarm. "So, does that mean that--"

"I'm afraid I've said a bit more than I should," Barbatos interrupts, before the other demon can finish the question. "I apologize for disturbing you...I know you're busy. Have a pleasant evening, Lucifer."

With that, he hurries out of the room without a single glance back to the former morning star, who is left to settle uneasily back into his seat.

Future, Anew

"They will need to sever the pacts. It's that, or the Ring of Light may be able to contain it...but it's been lost to history, as you know, so it's not really an option," Solomon explains. "It's going to be tough on the brothers, and...I'm sure they'll be upset as well. But it's the only way."

The sorcerer's expression is solemn, but there's a relief in his face. He has never liked showing weakness around his demonic companions, but for the past few weeks, his stress has been clear to everyone. Now it's finally been lifted.

There is a way. A way to fix things. A way that won't involve you getting hurt.

In an odd sense, Barbatos is relieved too. Severing the pacts -- as Solomon said, it's going to be hard on you and the brothers. But it's a way to end this. A way to stop the power you have, a way to undo all of the damage.

If that's the case, perhaps this has all been something like a bad dream. All of these recent events, twisting time into new shapes and leaving the future unknown to him -- perhaps they would simply stop. The power you have over it could simply be released. You would leave the Devildom, your connections broken, and he'll never have to worry about you again.

Then, fate could be set right again. Fate could be fate again. Familiar, comforting, consistent.

That's what he wants...he thinks.

He thinks so.

And yet...

There's something about the way you smiled so cheerfully after your exams. How brightly your face lifted after the stress, the relief and delight reaching to the very corners of your eyes as you heard the results. Something so honest and innocent -- while he can hardly remember ever being either of those things. It sticks to him, burbling its way to the front of his mind just once in a while, a couple times a day.

He'll never see that on you again after this. He'll never see you again after this.

But it's for the best. Everything can be set right again. Fate can resume its course at last.

Yes, that's what matters -- fate. The security of it, the preservation of it. Everything else...doesn't matter. It's all inconsequential, in the end. You weren't meant to matter, and after this, you wouldn't again. And that is fine. It is how it is meant to be.

Barbatos tells himself this, as a deep sorrow presses heavily upon his chest.

--

He feels it before he hears about it -- balances shifting, the future in flux.

You'd had the dagger in hand. Things had almost turned out tragically. But Barbatos can tell the instant it all comes crashing to a stop.

It's a good thing, the ideal outcome -- Lucifer alive, his memories restored, you unharmed, your pacts intact, and your power under control so that the realms are now safe. And in some way, without even looking, Barbatos can feel that things have settled. A change in fate -- but it is stable again.

So why does his heart still speed up every time he looks at you?

The question plagues him as he moves about the party, irresistibly drawn towards watching you drift from demon to demon, all of them clamoring for your attention. Even Lord Diavolo seems thoroughly enamored with you recently.

Is that what he is, too? Enamored? Is that why?

You catch him watching you once, mid-spin as you're dancing with Leviathan -- deep orbs of chartreuse that seem to drink in the light around them without reflecting any back. For that split second, you feel like there's something almost hypnotic about them, like you could slip right into that darkness and never find your way out. You're not even sure you'd want to.

For that one tiny moment, he can feel it in his chest -- he wouldn't want you to either.

But then, before you know it, the third brother whirls you back around, and you're laughing, and dancing, and having a good time in the present again. Not only the brothers in fact, but even Solomon and the angels too, are passing you back and forth amongst themselves, asking for dance after dance, and it's as though the bright candle lights all over the room wash the darkness right out as you twirl in their warm glow.

As he resumes his hosting duties, Barbatos considers trying to step in too, perhaps get a longer moment together. Might it be worth trying? Would he even know what to say, if he got his chance?

He's not sure. You've been only a crisis, an unpredictable catastrophe, until now. Amidst all the swirling of time around you, your mysterious power to pull everyone's fates into your own, you nearly brought about a collapse of all three worlds -- in every timeline.

So he's never really had a chance to just...talk to you.

Maybe it's time he did.

The next time your eyes meet, he finds himself making his way over before he has a chance to decide. His heart is ringing in his head as he taps you on the shoulder and extends a hand.

"Excuse me...might I have this next dance?"

A Dream of You

Your first date with Barbatos is sweet, if simple -- and if you even call it a date. He does, at least.

He dithers about asking you for longer than he'd like to admit. His duties keep him busy, and after all, you have enough suitors around you without him stepping in. Knowing that, it may actually be more considerate to you not to ask, he thinks.

He owes it to Lord Diavolo that it happens at all.

The prince, for his part, is more observant than most give him credit for. He has had Barbatos at his side for most of his life now -- and though it's still only a relatively short life so far, by demonic standards, it's certainly been more than long enough to notice how his butler changes just a little bit whenever you're around.

He rather likes that shift in Barbatos. His steward is too serious, and he works too hard. It's a perfect excuse to push him into a little break.

So, he invites you to the castle to join him for tea, to chat about how things are going with your exchange program experience. It's been almost two full years already -- have you gotten to travel much? He's delighted to see how hard you've been working on your studies at RAD, but the Devildom is so much more vast than just this city, you know. He'd love for you to see more of the realm, if you ever get the chance. There's this one wonderful little town in particular, a ways out of the city. There are such beautiful roses that bloom there at just this exact time of year, dotting the whole place with red and pink, and blanketing the whole town with the gentlest sweet aroma. And they make the most wonderful tea out of those flowers! One of his favorites, in fact. Why, speaking of it, would Barbatos mind putting on a pot of it now? -- knowing, of course, that they had run out just days ago for a recent garden party for the nobles.

"I'm terribly sorry, My Lord. I'll need to purchase fresh supplies soon. I know of one shop where it can be purchased, but it's a little far..." Barbatos notes the mischievous triumph in his master's face when your own lights up with envy at the mention. Of course he knew the butler wouldn't be able to ignore it when you're looking at him so imploringly. "If you're interested, would you like to accompany me?"

"Yes, please!" you answer immediately, eyes glittering almost as much as your soul.

"That sounds lovely," the prince agrees, and that settles it.

You meet Barbatos at the train station three days later, early if not so bright in this ever dark realm, and he leads you to your seats with a chuckle. Despite having been in the Devildom so long already, you're pretty clearly excited about the trip, looking this way and that as you board.

"Ah, I imagine you haven't had many opportunities to ride the Devildom railway before? It will take a few hours to reach our destination, so let's enjoy the scenery in the meantime," he says.

You nod eagerly and settle into a quiet peace together, looking outwards. Actually, it's almost a wonder your human eyes can see much through the dark sky beyond the windows at all, though the blazing lights shining off the train certainly help. Barbatos glances at you every once in a while as you ride, smiling softly to himself each time you gasp at a new sight passing by. But he can't blame you -- Lord Diavolo was correct, it's beautiful the whole way there.

The view of the city gives way soon enough to fields of tall red grass, crimson as blood, yet glistening gently with dew. Once in a while, trees dot the horizon, tight clusters of red and orange against the deep darkness of the sky, broken up from time to time by stops at progressively smaller towns. Then, after several hours, the scarlet plains surrender instead to wide swaths of flower fields, full of blushing red and pink dots as far as the eye can see. Another short while after that, a tiny hamlet comes into view, just as speckled in roses.

You practically bolt off the train when it arrives at your stop, before realizing that you don't actually know where you're going. Still, the scent of hellfire roses reaches you from the moment you step out, and you follow your nose out to find some of the flowers themselves. Barbatos chuckles quietly again, catching up with you soon enough. He'd normally be more bothered about someone rushing off and not thinking things through -- but from you, somehow, he finds it sort of charming.

For someone who has caused so much turmoil to the universe, it's...sweet, in a way. Unaware of your own pull, blissfully oblivious to the extent of your own power. Solomon may have told you that your powers are on par with his own now, but watching you, Barbatos gets the feeling that nothing has changed at all. Maybe it almost hasn't. Or at least, he'd have liked to believe that, if he didn't absolutely know otherwise.

"Shall we?" he says, holding out a gracious hand, and his pulse speeds up so fast when you take it that it's almost dizzying -- though he doesn't show it, of course.

He leads you through the streets and into a small but impressive shop, packed with interesting things inside -- not the least of which is a whole wall of rare teas at the far end of the place, all loose-leaf in massive canisters with a slender clear window to offer a peek of their contents. In front of it, employees carefully weigh and hand-pack each order for the handful of other customers inside.

On the opposite side of the store, colorful boxes line the shelves, each brightly announcing various local specialties in perfect souvenir packaging. Pink and red ribbons decorate each one, with a few even folded into delicate rosettes.

Meanwhile, glass cases fill the center with rows and rows of sweets in all shapes and sizes, each with a shiny placard detailing the name of the chef who created them, their ingredient sources, and their recommended tea pairings.

It's no wonder Barbatos likes this place, far from the city though it may be.

Amused at your wide-eyed excitement at everything, he leaves you to wander the store as he heads straight for the tea wall. It ends up taking two employees and the owner to gather and weigh everything he requests, and when you join back up with him, he makes sure to order a bit extra of that Hellfire Rose blend so you can have some too.

"Won't that be a little pricey?" you ask curiously, nervously catching a glance at the posted price.

"The value far outweighs the price," he simply smiles back. "You can share it with the other members of the House of Lamentation. I'm sure Lucifer and Satan would appreciate this wonderful blend with you."

Just as he's about to finish up with his order, another blend catches his eye, one he's never seen here before -- Vortex Paradox.

"Ah, is this a new blend?" he inquires, pointing it out.

The owner perks up upon seeing the blend in question. "Yes! You truly do have a fine eye, sir. Oh, it's a lovely blend. We fused different white and green teas, you see, which turned out with quite the surprisingly deep flavor, like a black tea, and yet it's also still light and sweet. It can be confusing for tea connoisseurs, but it kept drawing me back in -- just like tea leaves swirling to the center of a cup. Hence the name, you see."

Barbatos glances surreptitiously at you -- just as disorienting, yet you too seem to always draw him back in. He keeps catching himself thinking about you lately, even now that all the crises have been resolved. "Perhaps I'll buy this for my own enjoyment," he muses with a wry smile, heart skipping a beat as he takes the bag.

Thanking the staff, he pays for the collection of teas, and surprises you by paying for the things you picked up as well: two boxes of souvenir snacks for Beel, beautiful rosette cakes for Asmo, a baggie of cat-shaped cookies for Satan, and a box of rose-flavored chocolates for yourself. Then, you go to dinner together afterwards, and after that, it's back towards home -- with one quick stop for a photo, at the demon's request.

"I don't have many opportunities to spend time with you. After all, you're usually surrounded by those lively brothers. In other words, today has been a rather special day for me," he explains. "It's a pity that such an enjoyable time must come to an end, but we have people waiting for us back home..."

He's a bit surprised himself, to find that for the first time, he's not quite wanting to return to the castle and its prince just yet, despite what he'd just said. Just like that day at the party, there's an odd impulse in him to wrap you up in his arms and not let go.

But you do indeed have people waiting for you, and he as well.

So he doesn't. He settles for a photo, then leads you back to the train station, watching over you as you fall asleep on the way back, exhausted from the excitement of the day. With the various souvenir gifts you'd gotten the brothers, your pile of purchases is almost as tall as his own stack of supplies for the castle, he notes to his amusement, and he carries both collections off the train when it pulls back into the city, regardless of any protests from you.

"Thank you for today," you smile brightly at him when he hands your things back at last, before you split off from each other to head home. "Even if uh, heh, I guess I was only accompanying you for an errand, huh? But I really enjoyed myself, so thanks for letting me come along!"

"Not at all. The pleasure was mine for your company."

As you wave goodbye and turn to leave, there's that strange tightness in his chest again.

--

"Asmo, wait--"

You reach for his arm to try to stop the Avatar of Lust from running off, but he's zipped away in search of moisturizer already, leaving you with Barbatos, who is presently dressed as a teal bat.

Honestly, he can't understand Asmodeus at times like this -- it will take longer for him to go and come back than it would to simply check for the others and return inside.

But then, he's also not complaining about a little alone time with you...

Though you had taken that trip together to buy tea, a few months have already passed, and between magic training under Solomon and now these sorcerer trials, you've been so busy that the butler hasn't really had much chance to even see you. And even when he has, it's not as though he could easily ask you on another date when the brothers are so often hanging around.

Sighing after Asmodeus's turned back, you direct your attention back to the remaining demon and give him a slightly awkward smile, trying to make conversation. "So...nice weather, huh?"

Ah. Of course. He supposes you haven't actually really talked with each other much still, despite his growing infatuation with you. And although he's had his eye on you for a while now -- how could he not have, after all that's happened? -- as a butler often stepping away into the background, it's to be expected that he might not have caught yours in return. Without the excitement of new sights all around to keep your attention, perhaps it's natural you wouldn't know what to say to him.

He gives you a small, reassuring smile. "Do you find it awkward being alone with me? You shouldn't feel obligated to come up with something to talk about. Nor is there any need to feel uneasy around me." After all, he's happy just to be beside you here.

You don't look convinced, though, or perhaps you just aren't able to enjoy the silence with him. In any case, you peer at him, looking like you'd still like to say something.

Or, if he dares hope -- maybe you'd also like to get to know him better?

"What do you think of Lucifer and his brothers?" you blurt out finally.

Not a question he'd been expecting. Still, he obliges without missing a beat. "As long as you're just watching them, they're an enjoyable group, and never boring. But they can sometimes cause trouble, and can be a nuisance. I suppose that's a fair way of putting it. To be completely honest, I wish they would refrain from involving the Young Master every time they get into some sort of trouble."

You give him an understanding nod in the silence that ensues, though you look like you aren't exactly sure how to respond. You're much closer with the brothers than he is -- probably why you'd asked the question. So, maybe you just aren't comfortable expressing that affection for them around him?

Trying to lighten your mood a little, he adds, "For his part, the Young Master seems to like being involved, which is the source of many headaches for me."

That earns him a small smile from you, just short of a laugh, and to his relief, you seem to relax a little bit. "Then...what do you think of Diavolo?"

"He is my master, and I devote myself fully to his service, as is my duty. The Young Master is the very reason for my existence now. Does that answer your question?"

You can't help but giggle this time, thrown off by his unexpectedly serious answer. "Yeah, I guess it does."

Both of you fall silent again after that. It's clear on your face that you have another question on your mind, as your gaze focuses intensely on him, and his pulse quickens at what it might be. But despite your earlier attempts at conversation, for some reason, you don't ask this one. You look almost too nervous to ask.

He's curious what's on your mind. But Asmodeus will be returning any moment now, and if you aren't comfortable saying it, then he supposes he ought to leave it alone. Carefully, he suggests, "Perhaps I could ask you some questions this time?"

"Oh! Of course," you agree immediately, the apprehension dropping from your face in an instant. How strange, to relax more when handing the reins to a demon. "What do you want to know?"

How you, a random human with no magical powers of their own, pulled fate to you.

How you pull everyone around you into your orbit, like gravity pulling planets to the sun.

How you seem to pull him to you, too.

How you're so oblivious to that pull you have over him.

But, of course, he doesn't ask any of those things.

Instead, he opts for simpler questions, more along the lines of what you'd asked him -- how do you feel about the brothers, about the angels? You answer simply, and he nods along as you speak. You're fond of them; you're fond of everyone. Of course you are. He did ask, but it wasn't as though he didn't know that already.

Unsure what else to say from there, he begins to turn his gaze back towards the manor to check for Asmodeus's return, when you blurt out, "You're not going to ask me how I feel about you?"

That catches him off-guard.

"Well, outside of the Young Master, I've never been interested in others' opinions of me, you see," he responds, then pauses. That might have been true before, and it might have been the truth for millenia. But as you stand directly before him, looking him in the eyes, can he honestly say that he doesn't care what you think of him? "But as long as we're on the subject, would you mind if I inquire? What do you think of me?"

You don't hesitate. "I like you."

His heart skips another beat.

"...My goodness. I must say, I'm honored."

Your eyes are locked on each other as you both let that blunt confession hang in the air for another moment, before he opens his mouth to speak.

"Guys, heeeeeelp!" comes the cry from Asmodeus instead.

--

"Hey Barbatos, I just passed this really interesting antique store while I was in town, full of skulls, and taxidermy, and all kinds of stuff. And, I was wondering...would you maybe like to check it out with me tomorrow? As a date?"

It is, perhaps, a bit ironic to suggest visiting an antiques and oddities shop to a demon almost as old as the universe itself -- and even more so, one in the human realm, where the wares are generally only a couple centuries at most, or assorted "demonic" paraphernalia with no actual connections to the Devildom at all. But when he receives the call from you, he doesn't question it at all.

Three weeks have passed already since you told him, point-blank, that you like him, yet neither of you has had a chance to speak about it again since. So if you're inviting him on a date now?

Well, he's certainly not going to say no.

He waits for you at a nearby cafe the next day -- his choice of meeting spot -- and he's there with two paper to-go cups of freshly brewed tea when you arrive.

"The owner here is a recent friend of mine," he explains, holding one of the cups out to you, "and we thought it'd be interesting to exchange blends sometime. As it happens, I realized it was quite close to the shop you mentioned, so I thought I'd come by today. Now, you've arrived just in time for this one to have cooled to the perfect temperature, so please enjoy it."

"Wow, thank you!" you exclaim, taking a sip. He's right -- it's just cool enough not to scald your tongue, with the perfect amount of lingering heat to lift the fragrant notes of persimmon and pomegranate to your nostrils. The warm sweetness lingers on your palate, echoing the gentle warmth of his fingers as he takes your hand to walk.

As the two of you approach the antiques store, he can see right away why you thought to invite him in particular. The entire shopfront, from the trim of the windows and door to the severe brick exterior, is pure black, standing at a stark contrast from the rest of the street. A soft, eerie teal light glows entrancingly from a crystal ball in the window, resting upon a backdrop of carefully draped black velvet, beckoning passersby to come stare into its depths.

Above the door, the deep toll of a bell rings out in welcome as you walk in, accompanied by the distant echoing of children laughing further inside. He chuckles; it's clearly meant to be creepy, but as a demon, he finds it so terribly curious what humans consider to be unsettling. He might have expected the joy of the young to be more enjoyable to human ears.

The interior of the shop, it turns out, is fairly massive, consisting of several additional rooms with more varied theming beyond the all-black furniture and all-black walls at the entrance. One room mimics the feeling of an old laboratory littered with skeletons and various scientific implements, while another has dried flowers and taxidermy butterflies scattered all around a garden-like space. Another still is laden with colorful crystals and rocks gleaming alongside elaborate displays of antique jewelry.

He looks around with mild curiosity as you browse. Most of the occult merchandise is kitschy if not outright fake, but he keeps an eye out nevertheless for things he thinks you might like. As you wander the rooms, you call his attention over to a few things as well -- old timepieces, vintage cooking utensils, the occasional demonic-looking cryptid skull which he invariably assures you is certainly not from any actual creature of the Devildom.

"Ah, but this one here..." A small block of amber catches his eye, containing what appears to be a preserved moth with an extra pair of wings. "I believe this little one may actually be a moirae moth. How interesting to see one that's made its way to the human world...old Devildom mythology suggests that these creatures once produced the threads of silk that three fairy sisters weaved into the kismet tapestry. Moirae moths can be identified by their six wings, as you can see here -- one for each hand of fate."

Barbatos passes the fossil over to you, and you tilt your head at it slightly as if puzzling over something, then look back up at him. "Shouldn't you of all demons know if that myth is true or not?"

"Oh? What do you mean?"

"Well...you can see the past, present, and future, right, Barbatos? And you said there are infinite timelines...so wouldn't that mean there's no such thing as fate?"

He blinks in surprise.

"Yes, there are indeed infinite timelines. But...perhaps it may be more apt to compare fate to a braid, rather than a tapestry. There are places, certain events, where the timelines converge and meet before splitting off again. For example, I knew even before I met him that I would make a pact with Solomon, as it is true in every timeline. Though, to a human such as yourself, those events would normally be so far apart that they may never touch your life at all."

"Oh. Hmm...like what? What was the last one?"

Another blink, and he can't help but chuckle a bit in response this time. You really never cease to surprise him. With how much that very fate had changed since you'd first arrived in the Devildom, the question is a startling reminder that you don't in fact have any idea how much impact you've really had on time and the universe.

"You."

"Me?" You're the surprised one this time, mouth agape with disbelief. "How -- I -- wasn't I just some human you guys dragged into the exchange program?"

"You were," he agrees. "And then you weren't."

You look even more confused now, for good reason. "Because you picked the 'true' timeline?"

"No, it was not my doing. I merely combined the timelines where you existed in the Devildom. However, something shifted such that you started appearing even in timelines that were originally not your own, and thus, you created a new event of fate. Though, even I do not know exactly how," he admits.

You place the fossil back onto the table, looking deep in thought, and Barbatos immediately regrets telling you all that.

"Ah, I'm afraid I must apologize. This was supposed to be a pleasant, casual day out together, and I've given you such a heavy topic to dwell on. Shall we look in that room next?" he asks, trying to direct your attention back to lighter matters.

From there, you resume your browsing together, looking at the various oddities and each picking up a couple small trinkets, but he can tell you're distinctly distracted now.

Just as the two of you are about to leave, suddenly you stop and turn around. "Wait here, actually. There's one more thing I want to run back and get."

You dash back inside before he can respond, leaving him flustered at the entrance, and return back after a moment, your spirits looking higher again.

"Were you able to find what you went back for?" he inquires, looking at you curiously, but you're already stuffing whatever it was into your pocket, out of sight.

"Yep! Sorry about that!" you answer brightly, seemingly happy to keep it a secret. Instead, you grab his hand and almost drag him along with you, heading back down the way you'd first come. "You said you're friends with the owner of that cafe earlier, right? Come on, I'm feeling kind of hungry, so let's get a snack or something."

Surrendering, he decides not to pry any further, settling for sipping on another cup of tea and sharing a slice of chocolate pear cake at your behest. Once in a while, he notices you fidgeting with it again in your jacket pocket. Still, it remains just out of his view.

Perhaps it's a gift for one of the others, something that you thought that one of the brothers might like. There were several items inside that seemed right up Satan's alley. In any case, he supposes that as long as you're no longer looking weighed down by the earlier conversation, it's for the better -- even if there's an unmistakable twinge of jealousy in his chest at the thought.

So, it's to Barbatos's surprise when, as you say your goodbyes for the day afterwards, you pull the object back out of your pocket and slip it into his hand. The moirae moth from earlier stares emptily up at him from inside of its amber encasing, its translucent wings gleaming in the sunshine now that you're out of the shop's dim lighting.

"Actually," you smile sheepishly, "I went back to get this for you. I, um, was thinking about what you said. About me creating a new fate. I thought you should have something that creates fates too. Well, I guess you're almost like the most powerful demon ever though, so you don't really need some moth to--"

In that moment, you're sparkling again, and he's tempted for so much more than just your soul.

He pulls you into a kiss. No pause to question it, no holding back out of politeness -- though he is relieved when you kiss him back.

You taste like chocolate cake and persimmon tea, and you send his heart racing.

And this time, that's a good thing.

(A/N: This is the "happy ending" point. If you want this story to end sweetly and happily, just leave here!! This is a perfectly good place to stop! Because the next chapter is the final chapter and it is not a happy, neat, fluffy, sweet kind of ending. You've been warned!)

Certainty

Barbatos had thought that things were fine now. That, full of surprises as you were, things were stable now. You hadn't been fated, and then you were -- and then you were, together.

And that was the end of it, he thought.

It wasn't. And now, here he stands, opening a portal for his pact-mate to follow you to who-knows-when in time.

There's a dread pounding in his chest, an odd powerlessness he's rarely ever felt.

Solomon nods at him before stepping through, and then he's gone.

Barbatos can't follow.

Control over time, all this immense power -- hadn't Leviathan called him the Most Powerful of All Beings? Hadn't you, too? And yet, he can't follow. It's too close to another, past version of him. He is powerful. That's exactly what makes it too dangerous for two of him to exist in the same time and space.

So he can't follow. But that doesn't make him want to any less.

He sits down, feeling as though the air has been squeezed out of his chest, drowning in anxieties of possibilities and impossibilities.

Someone who has the power to change fate, suddenly flung far into the past -- and here he is, left behind, unable to do anything about it.

This is what you've always been -- unpredictable, uncontainable.

He shakes his head, trying to clear the helpless thoughts from his mind. If there is one thing he knows now, one unshakeable, undeniable fact, it's that you are even more powerful than fate.

Your connection transcends time.

You will find your way back to each other.

[goattypegirl]

Strictly speaking, the Vahi should have never existed. While drafting safeguards for the Great Spirit Robot, a small group of Great Beings proposed a ridiculous idea. At this point, manipulating physical space was trivial. Why not try their hands at altering time? A conditional, localized chronal knot, a way to turn back the clock, for the absolute worst case scenarios.

Just ridiculous, really. Crafting the mask for the Ignition failsafe already pushed the boundaries of the Great Being's abilities, and resulted in the loss of one of their own. The actual forging of the mask could theoretically- theoretically- be done by a construct within the GSR, but it would still require a metatemporal intelligence which could detect critical threats to the GSR, and then somehow bring about its own creation and subsequent non-creation. "Metatemporal intelligence". Ridiculous. How could they even create one? The plan was doomed from the start.

Unless, they found one that already existed.

Unless, they found one that always existed.

They said it was Destiny. Though, the more apt term would be Predestination.

Within the Matoran universe, great importance was placed on the study and recording of history. Matoran long term memories only extend a few hundred years back, and stress or trauma can induce amnesia. Ways of recording history were vital to communities, such as archives, libraries, and of course, Chroniclers. History was even considered sacred; Destiny was said to be history that hasn't happened yet. It is no wonder that Time was named a legendary element.

The Mask of Time was a common myth amongst mask makers, a white whale. Ambitious upstarts and experienced masters have all tried their hand at it, though few ever go further than a few sketched drafts. But, everyone seemed to know a guy who knew a guy who got really really close, they promise.

Chroniclers have noted that stories about the Mask of Time and attempts to make it seem to coincide with periods of upheaval, such as the conquest of the Six Kingdoms, or the Metru Civil War and Great Disruption. An interesting coincidence. Some point to political and socioeconomic factors, others to Destiny.

Though, the more apt term would be Predestination.

It is unknown, unknowable, how many times the Vahi has been forged, how many times it had been weilded, how many times the clock has turned back. It is unknown, unknowable, how many times Vakama has forged the Vahi, how many times he weilded it, and how many times he turned back the clock.

What is known is that, strictly speaking, the Vahi should not exist. The Great Cataclysm should have never happened. The Vahi should have prevented it, and its own creation. However, the fact that the GSR did not burn in Aqua Magna's atmosphere, nor destroy the planetoid itself, nor lead to a total extinction event within the GSR, points to the Vahi working as intended.

The team who initially proposed the Vahi are... unavailable to be consulted. The remaining Great Beings on post-reformstion Spherus Magna are left wondering. Why did the GSR still crash? Why has the timeline not been rewritten? Why is the Vahi still physically on the planet?

What do you mean the Vahi is still physically on the planet?

[bloodylullaby]

Entangled Hearts

Summary: we follow the intertwined lives of Satoru, Suguru, and Lilith through trials, love, and eventual heartbreak. Their bond, initially marked by friendship and camaraderie, evolves into a complex love triangle that tests their loyalties and desires. As conflicts arise and emotions run high, the fragile fabric of their relationship begins to unravel, leading to a devastating betrayal that shatters their lives. This poignant tale explores the depths of human relationships and the profound impact of love's triumphs and tribulations.

Parings: SatoSugu x Female OC

Content Warning: None as of right now

Word Count: 768

Prologue: 2005

In the annals of Satoru Gojo's life, 2005 shone as a beacon of warmth and camaraderie, for destiny intervened during this auspicious year, introducing him to his kindred spirit, Suguru Geto. Their paths intertwined at Jujutsu Tech, marking the inception of a profound friendship that would stand the test of time. As the pages of their lives turned to this chapter, the universe seemed to conspire in their favor, aligning their fates in a serendipitous dance. From the moment they crossed paths, a bond of understanding and companionship was forged.

Within the hallowed halls of Jujutsu Tech, Satoru and Suguru found solace in each other's company. Together, they navigated the labyrinthine corridors of learning, their laughter echoing through the corridors as they tackled academic pursuits and the complexities of mastering their craft. Yet, beyond the confines of their educational pursuits, their friendship blossomed, woven with threads of shared experiences, mutual respect, and unwavering loyalty. They stood side by side through triumphs and tribulations, their bond growing stronger with each passing day. In retrospect, 2005 emerged not merely as a year in the annals of time but as a pivotal moment in Satoru Gojo's life—a chapter marked by the arrival of a soulmate, a confidant, and an irreplaceable companion in the form of Suguru Geto.

The striking contrast between them made their bond truly special despite sharing a few similarities. Satoru exuded an unshakable confidence that defined him, never wavering from his larger-than-life persona. His playful and carefree demeanor charmed admirers and incited envy in equal measure, occasionally leading to clashes with those in positions of authority. Yet, beneath the surface of his larger-than-life persona lay a labyrinth of complexity and depth, a testament to the layers of his character. This intricate inner world was shaped by the echoes of his upbringing, where constant reinforcement of his superiority and invincibility instilled within him a sense of inherent seriousness. This seriousness, cultivated from years of being told he was destined for greatness, would later emerge as a cornerstone of his character, especially when faced with adversity. It would later prove invaluable in safeguarding at least one of his cherished other halves when the tides of fate turned against them. 

When it came to Suguru, he radiated a distinct aura of cool, calm, and collected demeanor, a stark contrast to Satoru's exuberance. This composed nature often proved invaluable, especially when Satoru's antics landed them in precarious situations. Yet, beyond his poised exterior, Suguru possessed a magnetic charisma that effortlessly drew others to him. Whether navigating challenging circumstances gracefully or effortlessly charming those around him, he exuded a quiet confidence that complemented Satoru's more flamboyant persona. 

In addition to his composed demeanor and charismatic charm, Suguru emanated a genuine warmth that enveloped those in his presence. His caring energy uplifted those around him, offering solace and support in times of need. Furthermore, Suguru possessed innate leadership qualities, effortlessly guiding others with wisdom and conviction. His unwavering commitment to righteousness was a beacon, guiding his actions and inspiring others to follow suit. No obstacle could deter him from his path of integrity, as he remained steadfast in pursuing what was just and proper. Their contrasting qualities formed a harmonious bond that enriched their friendship and complemented each other's strengths. 

Unbeknownst to either of them, the culmination of that very year would unveil a mission that would lead them to discover the missing piece of their trio.

As fate would have it, their journey took a pivotal turn when they were entrusted with a recruitment mission by their headmaster, Yaga. With a sense of purpose driving them forward, Satoru and Suguru ventured into the bustling streets of Kabukicho, a vibrant district teeming with life and intrigue. Their mission, as instructed by Yaga, was to locate a girl of their age who concealed her true identity behind a facade of maturity while working in one of the many nightclubs that dotted the district. Rumors had circulated among the higher-ups regarding her lineage and the covert use of her curse technique. These whispers of her burgeoning powers had attracted unwanted attention and painted a target on her back. With their resolve steeled, Satoru and Suguru embarked on their task, navigating the labyrinthine alleys and neon-lit streets of Kabukicho with a keen eye and heightened senses. Their quest for the elusive girl marked a crucial juncture in their journey as they delved deeper into the shadows of the district, each step bringing them closer to unraveling the mystery that awaited them.

Authors Note: I haven't written fanfiction since I was 18, so hopefully this is decent enough. I don't know, I kinda started doing this for me because I wanted to see a specific kind of fanfiction. But hopefully, others enjoy it as well.

[teriteriteriteriteri]

Sane analysis of the descriptions of the two recent Myriad Celestia Trailers featuring Acheron. Below annotated are the description for the Acheron and Black Swan Dance video, and the Acheron backstory video:

The dual planets were intertwined in each other's tragic destiny, dancing an eternal rondo around a pitch-black great sun. In the beginning, one of the planets gave rise to humans. These people looked down, and named the land below "Izumo." These people looked up, and named the world above "Takamagahara."[1] One day uninscribed in the annals, the Yaoyorozu-no-kami descended from Takamagahara. These demonic beasts named Kami overturned the skies, burned the rivers and oceans, and shattered the land — People realized in horror that it was not an invasion for rulership, dominance, or plunder. The evil Kami came only to kill. As the planet stood on the brink of death, Izumo embarked on a Kami-slaying journey, exhausting the might of the entire country to slay the calamity "Sovereign of Revelation" and forging the very first Edict Edge using its bestial body. Giving the Kami a taste of their own medicine, the wielder of these swords can recite the mantra contained within the blade to master the divine power of Takamagahara, and use it to combat the evil Kami and save the masses.[2] From then on, Izumo started its long and arduous crusade, exchanging inordinate lives lost for the fall of one Kami after another, shattering countless mortal blades to forge the twelve Sentinels. In the merciless fight for survival, Izumo used the might of the Edict Edges to light up their uncivilized world of darkness in less than ten Amber Eras, building cities of dazzling neon lights. That distant Takama Divine Realm, once so far away, became so close within their reach — Yet history suddenly stopped there.[3] The existence of the two planets instantly evaporated, disappearing into nothingness. Nowadays, the past of the border planet Izumo can only be gleaned from the scattered whispers in the universe. Academics hold various views regarding its disappearance, but none can solve the mystery. Izumo's history should have been a long flowing river, but it was severed in one cut, and all its past and future voided on emptiness' other shore. Did it never exist, and was it no more than a fabricated story? Did its histories never occur, and it ran aground on the beach of reverse causation? Was it yet another appalling experiment by Dr. Primitive, or was it a sign of the Voracity returning from the end of the Cosmos? Only that pitch-black great sun knows the answer, yet THEY remain silent, never speaking.[1.1] Because everything that had happened will one day regress to the end, and everything that had ended is guaranteed to happen again. The universe undergoes an eternal recurrence under THEIR shadow,[1.2] and Izumo is nothing more than the footnote for an ellipsis.

Pinned comment below (although it's just a repeat of the last line of the next description):

The hobbling monk sings a dissonant tune, as those who hold the power of kami retreat towards divinity. Witnessed by the great sun, the land once known as "Izumo" stands bereft of its inhabitants — humans, oni, and kami alike — now vanished without a trace.

Notes:

[1]. Dual planets Izumo and Takamagahara part of a system whose star is a black sun. Izumo is the one with humans.

[1.1]. The black sun can be inferred to be IX, what with the capitalized THEY being used exclusively for Aeons, and the black sun being a black hole as the one we see Black Swan get traumatized by in the dancing video.

[1.2] However? Universe undergoes an eternal recurrence under IX's shadow? Not implausible, given that the total annihilations of the honkai might attract IX. But the recurrence part is what gives me pause. If IX thinks all is hopeless, why eternally occur?

Pioneer Diver of Dead Waters makes reference to an Orkron. We can rule Izumo out, so could this be the endonym of Takamagahara?

Perhaps unrelated, but the duel planet setup reminds me of LeGuin's The Dispossessed. But there one of the planets is actually a moon (I don't know how celestial bodies are classified). Just a parallel.

Black Dwarfs are theorized to exist. These would not be black holes though, merely burnt out 'normal' suns.

[2]. Yaoyorozu-no-kami, or simply Kami, described as demonic beasts, suddenly descended upon Izumo. Izumo is also the name of the person who forged the weapons that can kill the Kami. Can be inferred that the Kami are Honkai, through the Herrscher connections below. Honkai have different names across worlds: https://x.com/No9ah10_/status/1771043024904007706

Izumo slayed "the calamity 'Sovereign of Revelation' and forging the very first Edict Edge using its bestial body," implying a connection between Herrschers and the weapons forged from their cores. Sovereign = Herrscher, Edict Edge = Divine Weapon. This connection is further corroborated by the second video and description.

Here in the real world, Izumo is a Shintō religious center. (Mentioned in the wiki too; these people work fast.) Here for some more info: https://ancient-japan-izumo.com/

[3]. 'Uncivilized' is an interesting choice here, because the threat of honkai increases with the level of civilization. It's literally one of the first sentences in HI3. It is corroborated by the comics by the Pioneers, where Fu Hua specifically prevents CE exposure to PE technology for this reason. This is probably just pedantry, as civilization is relative, and the honkai has existed even during the time we would consider 'uncivilized', but it is noticeable enough to be worth pointing out.

Incredibly fast advancements in civilization could go a while without any real honkai interference, before facing a catastrophic event that instantly wipes everything out.

'World of darkness' is even more interesting. Is it metaphorical, referring to their primitiveness? Or is it literal, what with the black sun and all? This raises even more questions than it answers, but?

The dual planets were intertwined in each other's tragic destiny, and a dead song was scattered amongst the Cave Where Light Hid. The song had no beginning and no end, had no sound and no echo, came from no singer, and was heard by none. It thus uttered: Takamagahara endless like Izumo, for it was a paradise [1] perfect in its place. Yet the sky turned dark and the great sun pulled the tides [2], and the Kami left numerous trails as if migrating [3]. The Yaoyorozu no Magakami manifested and slaughtered without mercy, yet little did they expect their peerless authority to be stolen [4] and taken. Izumo broke seventy-thousand-and-thirty-three warrior's blades, forging the majestic Sentinels twelve in number.

The first was "Truth," forged with the slain Sovereign of Revelation. It allowed mortals to comprehend all laws and order, to dissect all things and to recreate miracles.

The second was "Sky," forged with the slain Eternal Zenith. It could turn the sky into walls and fortresses and pose obstacles for the Magatsu no Morokami's steps.

The third was "Howl," forged with the slain Almighty Thunder. It could summon lightning to tear the sky, and the soaring meteors and thunder dealt divine justice.

The fourth was "Mist," forged with the slain Everbreath. It could make winds break and shear the land, for gales to rage forever unceasing.

The fifth was "Frost," forged with the slain Heaven's Winter Cloak. It could freeze and still the very order of time, to create boundless frozen wastes and stretch one moment into eternity.

The sixth was "Fate," forged with the slain Spurned Sister of Mortality. It could make flowers bloom and cover barren graves, for life and death to dance in a cycle and dissipate.

The seventh was "Flare," forged with the slain Flamebringer. It could summon fires to burn down the very world, to torch the skies and to char the earth.

The eighth was "Thought," forged with the slain Wisdom Supreme. It could discern the past and future with the mirror of water, to tell truth from lies over years beyond reckoning.

The ninth was "Root," forged with the slain Father of Lands. It could command islands to float into the heavens, for mountains and valleys to burst before armies.

The tenth was "Form," forged with the slain Nether Lord. It could make the masses join in unity, for endless forms to ebb and flow as one.

The eleventh was "Bind," forged with the slain Omen Ward. It drove misfortune into a binding cage, for evil and demons to instantly vanish.

The twelfth was "Maw," forged with the slain Woes Eighty. It could corrode and age the very mortal world and make equal Kami and Oni, leaving an entity's four souls to be sundered in twain. [5]

Then the underworld was cleared out, the wars called to a halt, and the twelve blades broken and locked. In the emptiness the dead souls grew restless, and under the black sun two blades were forged as Bearers of the world's destiny.[6] One was named "Origin" and the other named "End," for all begun with humanity and shall end with Oni-kind. The sounds of lamentation ceased, and the dead flowers rose and fell. The losers returned to the void, and the winners… became null. The hobbling monk sang the song without a tune, for those who hold the power of Kami are walking backwards, towards divinity. Witnessed by the great sun, the land once named Izumo became completely devoid… of humans, Oni, and Kami.

Notes:

[1]. Takamagahara is described as a paradise, but also the place from with the Kami descended.

A once propsering civilization resided there, soon wiped out form the Honkai? Which then 'migrated' to Izumo?

[2]. This sentence I cannot make sense of.

Did the sky going black mean that the sun also went black, assuming it might not have always been so?

What tides did it pull? Did the star collapse into a black hole?

[3]. Left trails as if migrating is also a complete mystery.

Why 'as if' migrating? Why not migrating? Did they leave Takama, or enter Izumo, or leave entirely? The following sentence implies that they came to Izumo, but still.

[4]. Authority is a word very specifically used to refer to the power that the Herrschers wield. This paired with the direct parallels between the 12 swords and the 12 Herrschers, make a very good case that the Sovereigns are Herrschers, albeit not ones fighting for humanity.

[5]. Directly paralleling the Herrschers in order and ability. Crazy graph drawing the parallels: https://x.com/marisahonkai/status/1771067409988018236

[6]. 77,033 mortal blades -> 12 Sentinels -> 2 Bearers -> 1(?)

After the Bearers are forged, mention of "The world forged 77, 047 blades, but only one could save Izumo." That's 77,033 + 12 + 2 and a new blade. The final one. 'Naught' referred in the subtitles as 'Life'.

According to this comment, the mortal blade number is a reference to the Herrschers from GGZ: @duchong6213 If you listen closely, you can hear Honkai World Diva at 1:30 (dramatic ver.) 3:07 (slow ver.) "Izumo have 70,033 blades (ref GGZ total herrschers) and from them, they forged it again to make 12 Sentinel sword (ref HI3rd 13 Herrschers)." Cannot confirm, found referenced up until the 70th herrscher

From [2:48] and onwards:

Takama was surely as beautify as Izumo (before the Kami descended.)

Origin and End break each other.

Izumo forged these blades 'because of a lie. An end that never existed.'

Then she slashed the black sun with Naught, horns disappearing (oni-fication stopped?)

Possibly when she became an Emanator?

The slash from Pioneer Diver of Dead Waters and the slash here seem to be one and the same, further pointing to the fact that the black sun is IX. Then again, it might be a different one? Acheron can slash more than one black hole.

Questions remaining:

"Galaxy Ranger? No, I've made a grave mistake." Absolutely zero mention of Galaxy Ranger-dom in either account of Acheron's past.

The girl that tried to shoot her and presumably stood shoulder to shoulder with, thought…

However, Pioneer Diver of Dead Waters violently implies that Acheron's companion is Frebass (actually, it implies that Frebass' companion is Acheron, but I digress.) Frebass is a Nameless, so it's not a case of 'picking up the title of a dead friend'. They only journeyed for 30 days, so it might be a different companion.

WHO IS ACHERON AN EMANATOR OF????????? Torn between what everyone else is torn between: Finality and Nihility.

Who is the girl pointing the gun, the hobbling monk, and Ferbass?

Why is Acheron's memory so bad?

Why does she 'remember' us?

What the fuck is 'Naught'?

[alexis-royce]

The Events of the Year 1900-1901 1899-1899

I don't have time for another fic right now, so I have to sum up.

The Ex-Disgraced Academic has their appellation because they were booted from the University and High Society. This happens to pretty much everyone along the main Fallen London plotline. But it hit them harder, and they never quite got over it.

The Ex-Disgraced Academic is driven by curiosity. They're a very classic sort of Mad Scientist. The Neath is one big book, and they want to keep reading. If there's no next page, then they have to get out there and make it.

They want to see what happens.

Spoilers for Evolution, Heart's Desire below:

The Academic has spent this past year going back and forth between The Evolution plotline and wormgrinding, which for them was a lab carousel for Cartographer's Hoards. I've got plenty of jokes I'd like to make about that grind sometime, but the most important thing to know is that they have well and truly devalued an expensive item. This is the text you get when you get one:

And this is how many they had, partway through grinding:

I didn't even get a shot of the total number, because I sold a lot of them halfway through out of sheer boredom. I needed to see some other number go up for a change.

Doing massive amounts of research, smuggling it out of London, and disseminating it upriver was a fairly in-character thing for The Academic to do. Forbidden knowledge in the hands of the public has been their M.O., after all. And as they could make a tidy sum off the whole deal and incensify their rivmantic colleague, why not?

The Academic's destiny, by the way, is Gleam:

Not exactly shocking, considering that they're a Mr Cards, but that's the "accompanies The Masters when The Bazaar leaves, but never truly becomes one of them" destiny, not the "I am one of you now" ending. The Academic really loves London, for all its flaws, but was also supremely arrogant: they chose Power instead of Time at the end of Heart's Desire because they wanted to forge a path for London, rather than relying on the word of The Masters. And if they had access to lots and lots of secrets, then surely putting those into the hands of the public would mean that scientific advancement would flourish!

And, incidentally, The Academic would get to see what happens. That's just incidental, of course. They're doing this for kindly reasons, they would assure you (and themself), reasons that benefit London. They would never be so careless as to allow unchecked experimentation to run rampant through The Neath. They would never encourage scholars and NPCs to commit grievous acts of body horror upon themselves merely to sate an addiction to see what happens.

If you've played Evolution, you know what is about to happen.

Evolution has been an exercise in trying to play nice with many of the same people who cast them out of society. Evolution can be many things, but for The Academic, it's a tale of scientific openness, a tale of forgiveness and community and-

It's a tale of throwing one person after another under the boat in their quest for power and The Dilmun Club is one big piggy bank and the Naturalist is not a person, but the control group.

Because it didn't really matter what sort of perks knowing the Boatman or fulfilling The Masters' promise to the old one might be. Calling in favors with the person who decides who lives and dies or getting the thumbs claws-up from your peers is far, far inferior to that sweet, addictive rush of encouraging the person who has trusted you and worked with you, someone you quite like, to stumble at the final step of their ambition, to not take into account new information, to doggedly pursue their goals at all costs, causing their humanity to unravel before their very eyes.

It hurt a lot more the first time The Academic did it, anyway.

The Academic knew they were going to go The Hanged Man route before they even drew the card, knew that they were going to split the Naturalist off into something unrecognizable, and when they stepped back to the loom in Irem, they were positively drunk on this power. They gorged themself on the visions of the possible futures, shuffling and flipping over card after card after card, the proverbial child given access to a pack of cigarettes, laughing at the leniency of their parents, until they realize that they're trapped inside the gift, that it's turned on them, that this was a punishment all along, stifling and choking them, because it wasn't fun, it wasn't freedom, it was bad, it was always bad, and en masse, it is killing them.

They could have any destiny, any at all, but now that they'd seen them all, now that they'd read them all, they'd pilfered their future right out from under their hands. What were they supposed to read? What do you do when you can look at all the futures and you realize that they're all painful, or fearful, that you can't hold onto the lovely city you adore forever, that all things must die or change beyond recognition?

You go back to work. A little broken, a little shattered. You sail to the Khanate, do a little dirty work for Fires and Stones, and take the long way home because you can't bear to pass by Irem again. You dock back on familiar Netha Firma, breathe in the mushroomy air, and head for Veilgarden. Sometimes, the simplest pleasures can be overlooked. Sometimes you just want a minute with your fellow man.

But then The Dilmun club calls. They're throwing throwing a huge banquet! In your honor! Because you did it! You unlocked the secret to life everlasting, to the continuity of a singular life form, you understand how to weave causality and change the future and though not a single one understands a word you're saying, it all seems oh so very charmingly impressive, and everyone, everyone is clapping

and you're being invited to a private supper with Her Majesty herself and both colleges are so very proud of you and you're going to be in all the London papers, and think about how amazing it will be, to share this knowledge with the public at large, and wait what's that that's being handed to you-

what is this

what

Oh.

And you realize that you've already read this one. Not the map. Not the whole damned sheaf. These people. This city. You've read it. There is nothing more for this city to give you. And maybe that's why it's the Fifth one, maybe that's why these small little people with their small little minds don't appreciate good research, whether they're lauding you or leaving you, maybe the infinite possibilities of scientific research, the blossoming fruits of causality. Maybe you should, in fact, hoard it all for yourself. Maybe it isn't, in the end, ethical to be charitable. Maybe your destiny was right all along, save for the mindset. Maybe you are one of them. Maybe you should rob the city of every last story from every last crevice, keep it all for you to read, and tear up two more cities when you leave with the rest of your bat-kin.

Maybe those ingrates just plain don't deserve to see what happens.

[ficsinhistory]

I was reviewing the spider-verse comics and they seem to be a strong foundation for the films. Although they are mediums with their differences, I think BTSV will follow not only the Web of Life and Destiny as a centerpiece, but also the spider totems.

(The Web of Life and Destiny. Shout out to the animators who made it so beautiful!)

For those who don't know, the spider totems in the comics are guardian entities of the Web that have specific functions and inhabit beyond the spiderverse, even being able to choose some spiders as their avatars.

Not only that, spider-folks can take over these functions themselves if need be and some of them appear in the spider-verse stories with Gwen, Miles and the others included, and it would be really cool to see this lore brought to the screen!

(Hell, I even have a theory that, for the Spiderverse movie universe, Gwen might be a Spider Totem but that's for another post)

Imo, the spider totems most likely to appear are:

The Great Weaver, who selects those who are worthy of becoming the avatars of Great Totems. In the comics being Spider-Zero one of them, for example.

The Bride, who had the role is in weaving hidden threads, enabling Spider-Totems to arise through.

The Master Weaver who had the responsibility for maintaining and overseeing the Web of Life and Destiny.

The Patternmaker, who reads the connecting threads of the Web and forges them into something stronger, enhancing the already existing connection between spider-totems; and is also responsible for repairing the web should something happen to it and the Master Weaver.

I can see it happening with some adaptations and if it really happens, I'm going to scream.

[smashpages]

Masters of the Universe: Forge of Destiny #1 (Dark Horse, September 2023) variant cover by Freddie Williams II

[fellreennw]

this is my first time writing so i hope you enjoy

Title: SkillScape Chronicles: Journey of the Life Skiller

Episode 1: "The Gamer's Odyssey"

In the heart of a bustling metropolis, nestled amidst towering skyscrapers and bustling streets, lies Fellreen's cozy home. His humble dwelling serves as a sanctuary amidst the chaos of urban life, offering him a haven where he can find solace and respite after long days spent navigating the hustle and bustle of the city.

Stepping into his dimly lit room, adorned with posters of his favorite video games, Fellreen feels a sense of calm wash over him. The soft glow of his computer screen casts a warm light across the space, beckoning him to indulge in his favorite pastime.

With a fervor unmatched, he settles into his well-worn gaming chair, the familiar hum of his computer filling the room as he navigates to his favorite virtual realm – SkillScape. In this digital universe, hunting, farming, woodworking, and alchemy are not just mundane tasks, but the very essence of life itself.

As he immerses himself in the immersive landscapes and vibrant communities of SkillScape, Fellreen loses himself in the thrill of the game. With each click of his mouse and press of a button, he becomes a master of his own destiny, forging his path through the virtual wilderness with unmatched skill and determination.

But little does he know, his ordinary gaming session is about to take a fantastical turn. Unbeknownst to him, the lines between reality and fantasy are about to blur, as a mysterious force begins to stir within the depths of SkillScape, beckoning him towards a destiny he never could have imagined.

With the click of a button, Fellreen embarks on a journey that will take him beyond the confines of his mundane existence, into a world of adventure, magic, and endless possibilities. And as he delves deeper into the mysteries of SkillScape, he will discover that his true journey is only just beginning.

As Fellreen delves deeper into the intricacies of the virtual forests of SkillScape, his senses are overwhelmed by the sights and sounds of the digital wilderness. The rustling of leaves, the gentle sway of branches, and the distant call of unseen creatures create an immersive experience unlike anything he's ever encountered.

Lost in the beauty of the virtual world, Fellreen's concentration is suddenly shattered by a blinding light that floods the screen. With a startled gasp, he shields his eyes, instinctively recoiling from the unexpected brightness.

When the brilliance finally fades, Fellreen slowly lowers his hands, his heart pounding with a mix of excitement and confusion. Blinking rapidly, he takes in his surroundings, his mind struggling to process the surreal scene before him.

Gone is the familiar glow of his computer screen, replaced instead by the breathtaking vista of a lush, verdant landscape. Towering trees loom overhead, their branches reaching towards the azure sky in a silent embrace. The air is alive with the melodious symphony of chirping birds and rustling leaves, a cacophony of nature's harmonious melodies.

Stunned and disoriented, Fellreen takes hesitant steps forward, his gaze sweeping over the unfamiliar terrain. Every detail is rendered with stunning realism, from the dappling sunlight filtering through the canopy to the delicate flutter of butterfly wings.

With each breath, he can feel the crisp freshness of the air filling his lungs, the earthy scent of loamy soil mingling with the sweet fragrance of wildflowers. It's as if he's been transported into a world of pure, unadulterated beauty, where the boundaries between reality and fantasy blur into insignificance.

As the initial shock begins to ebb away, a sense of exhilaration courses through Fellreen's veins. He realizes with growing excitement that he has been inexplicably transported into the very world he had been exploring through his computer screen – the world of SkillScape.

As Fellreen stands in awe of his surroundings, a profound stillness descends upon the forest, broken only by the resonant voice that reverberates through the trees like a gentle breeze.

"I am the Guardian of SkillScape," the voice intones, its timbre deep and resonant yet imbued with a sense of serene power. "Welcome, traveler, to this sacred realm."

Fellreen's heart skips a beat as he listens, his senses tingling with a mixture of apprehension and wonder. There's an undeniable aura of authority surrounding the Guardian's words, yet beneath its commanding tone lies an unmistakable sense of peace and tranquility.

"You have been chosen for a momentous task," the Guardian continues, its voice echoing through the forest with a sense of solemnity. "But I must warn you, traveler, of the looming threat that shadows this land."

Fellreen's brow furrows in concern as he listens intently, the weight of the Guardian's words sinking in.

"A dark force has arisen in SkillScape – the demon army," the Guardian explains, its voice tinged with solemnity. "Driven by malevolence and thirst for power, they seek to enslave all of mankind, plunging this realm into eternal darkness."

Fellreen's heart clenches with a sense of dread as he realizes the gravity of the situation. The fate of SkillScape hangs in the balance, and the lives of its inhabitants are at stake.

"Please, traveler," the Guardian implores, its voice softening with urgency. "I beseech you to lend your aid to the people of this world. They look to you as their champion, their beacon of hope in these dark times."

With determination burning in his chest, Fellreen nods solemnly, a newfound resolve coursing through his veins.

"I will do whatever it takes to protect this realm and its people," he vows, his voice firm with conviction.

Moved by Fellreen's resolve, the Guardian extends a hand, offering him a choice of magical weapons to aid him in his quest. Fellreen takes a moment to consider, his mind racing with possibilities.

Drawing upon his experience in the game, Fellreen selects a yumi, a traditional Japanese bow, and a katana, a symbol of honor and strength. With these weapons in hand, he feels a surge of confidence, ready to face whatever challenges lie ahead.

And so, with the Guardian's words echoing in his ears and his chosen weapons at his side, Fellreen sets forth into the unknown, his heart filled with determination and courage. For in this enchanted forest, where the boundaries between reality and fantasy blur into insignificance, the fate of SkillScape rests in his hands, and he will stop at nothing to ensure that light triumphs over darkness.

if you like this follow and like this post if i get 5 likes i will post episode 2 and follow my twitch and you tube thank you for reading my heartfelt work.

[swervesfirstblaster]

pookie adam <33

[frankensteined]

forge of destiny issue #4 coming out towards the end of the month instead of in the first week like the previous three issues were

[randomwriteronline]

The sound of waves is soothing and irritating all at once. It almost drives him mad, and then it calms him down again. His heartlight pulses a little quicker than it should. A sense of anxiety gives his rocking motion a strange apprehension.

The sea bears life.

The sea bore us.

His sister's words make him feel sick in his chest.

"Pohatu..."

His head raises suddenly to the grey sky, smiling: "I'm here."

"Where are you siblings?" asks Teridax's voice with a windy whisper, slithering around him.

"Trapped underground."

"Very well," the Makuta's voice purrs; bashful pride swells in the Toa's chest. "Where is the Mask of Light?"

"With Akhmou, to be melted down in the forges."

"Very well," another rumble in the protodermis sea, another caress from the howling gale. "Where are the Turaga Metru?"

"If they haven't been caught already, on the way to me."

"Very, very well, my Toa." Pohatu grins, basking in the quiet praise - but his heartlight stills a moment later as the sky sighs: "And yet..."

Has he done something wrong?

Something bad?

He tried to do everything right, as right as he could.

Did he waste too much time?

Cold winds wrap around him; the ground beneath him seems to sink a little more under his weight, the air curls heavier around his limbs and head, and the entire universe seem to close in on him, to observe him more intently.

He's not scared by this.

He knows Teridax would never hurt him.

He's just trying to understand what he did wrong.

The sounds solidify in the shape of a well-known claw to trace the maskless face he cradles in his arms: "He is still here."

Pohatu looks down.

Takanuva remains unconscious.

"Pohatu..." Teridax asks sweetly, rumbling like a thunderstorm, "You do remember what I've told you... The Toa of Light..."

"But it wasn't his fault!" Pohatu interrupts him. His hold on his little brother tightens slightly. "You said it yourself, Takua has nothing to do with this. If it wasn't for the Turaga, for that mask - he's innocent."

"He is, of course," the Makuta growls, "But danger lurks within him."

The Toa curls around the much larger body in his lap: "But he hasn't done anything wrong," he continues to defend him. "And without the mask he can't do anything, he's just like a Matoran again, without any powers - so I thought... I thought..."

"You disobey me?"

"No! No, no, I'm not disobeying, I don't want to disobey!" he's quick to reassure his master. Nothing frightens him more than the quiet heartbreak in his tone - he's good, he's good, he wants to be good, he wants to be good and useful and someone to be proud of, he doesn't want to make him upset, he doesn't want to disappoint him, it's just... It's just... He looks down, to the closed golden eyes of Takanuva. His shoulders close around him tenderly, to shield him from the cruel world that saw it fit to throw him into such a terrible life. "But he's... He hasn't done anything... He thought - they made him believe he had to, that it was his destiny, it wasn't his fault... He's just Takua... He's just..."

"Your little brother," Teridax finishes for him.

Pohatu nods.

The waves recede until the seabed is almost visible; they crash once more against the cliff with a long, gentle sigh.

"You have much too big a heart, Pohatu," the Makuta tells him, willing the salt in the air to cradle his puppet's head as though it were his palm. "And though it is an admirable thing, it still sometimes blinds you from what must be done - especially when it is in your little brother's best interest."

The Toa looks up, into the sky, to the spectral light of the twin suns. He has no trouble imagining the deep crimson of Teridax's eyes in place of their thin silvery shine.

"He has been turned into my enemy against his will, that is true," the usurper continues, voice low and sweet: "And I cannot execute him for being guilty of a crime others forced him to commit without even knowing what he was truly doing. But he must die regardless, Pohatu - not because he must be brought to justice, like your siblings and their mentors, but because he deserves to be given mercy."

"Mercy?"

"Yes, my Toa, mercy... The very same thing the Turaga denied him. Reflect well: the Avohkii has mutated him, tearing his previous careless, happy existence from him, staining him with the irreversible mark of its blinding light. No matter how far he may run, Destiny will always hound him, chasing him into his demise."

Pohatu hugs his brother closer, as though Destiny was a beast standing right before them in this second, hissing and writhing as it eyes Takanuva with a hungry gaze.

Loving claws of frigid wind soothe his head, caressing it slowly: "Do you see, then?" the waters churn below him, "Death is not a punishment; it is a kindness. Free him from such a horrible fate. Put a gentle end to the life of strife and agony he has been sacrificed to."

This -

This is the only time Pohatu laments following the code.

He would. He would kill Takanuva, right here and now, in his own arms, while he's still unconscious - so he could die loved and safe, without even noticing, drifting into even softer, even deeper sleep.

He would do it for him, so he doesn't have to suffer, so he doesn't have to be torn apart by something else, something so much more terrible than a brother who honestly, honestly loves him, a brother who loves him enough to spare him from something as horrible as a life he should not be forced to live.

He would, he would, he wants to (Teridax is right - what a fool he was for doubting him, when Teridax is always right and always good, and he even talked back to him and argued with him - oh, a fool, a fool, an idiot, a cretin, a worthless mindless sack of rocks - he is so lucky Teridax is so patient with him even when he's this incredibly stupid, so lucky he still cares about him enough to call him dear), but he can't. He can't. He can't.

He rocks Takanuva slowly, for no good reason, and he thinks.

He thinks as hard as he can.

"There's a cave in Po-Metru," he mutters - half to himself, half to the universe, "By the docks - the Visorak horde opened it with a tunnel, but the rest of it caved in... It's under the sea, I remember, with an entrance that can only be found underwater... Getting there was a mess. But I remember the way, I could do it. And the adaptive armor would make it easier. With some luck, the high tide would catch up to him before he could wake up. He wouldn't feel a single thing."

The ground beneath him rumbles: "There," Teridax praises him, "How clever you are, when your mind is clear."

The fear and guilt and worry are washed away from him completely in the mere fraction of a second, like a bad dream chased off by a gentle embrace: Pohatu smiles, embarrassed and flattered.

"Although, just in case luck does not favor us - perhaps, a shackle or two... As he would not understand your act of mercy..."

Of course, of course: "I'll make sure he's secured, Great Spirit."

The grandiose title makes the cliff on which the Toa sits stand even taller as the Makuta preens himself. Great Spirit - yes, of course; that is his name, now, and this is his universe; and oh, it is with such reverence that Pohatu says it, such conviction, such blind all-consuming devotion...

His claws in the shape of the winds lift the Toa's chin up to the sky, his brilliant eyes so eager to make him proud: "Well done, Pohatu," Teridax croons; with another gust of gale he presses against the forehead of his mask to push it down again, in a show of obedience: "I knew you would not disappoint me."

Pohatu never disappoints him.

Pohatu craves to be loved too much to disappoint him.

"Now run along, my dear Toa of Stone. You have a brother to save, and six traitors to imprison."

Pohatu nods, brimming with purpose and quelled anxieties.

Then he disappears, an orange flash beneath grey skies.

The waves keep crashing against the small cliff.

Under it, Hewkii shakes, breathing too fast.