#mindspace: sky temple

[blackvahana]

Was practicing with Lev again in the Astral. I keep making that same damn mistake with summoning things to me where I'm only partly summoning them which.. fantastic for the Rend Tear Sever mind to know I'm essentially extracting blood but shit for everything else.

Anyway. Had him watching me and dissecting what I was doing, we saw that it was mind related in that I was retracting so much of my own self like a dog that only feels safe in a cage. Withholding instinct and ability. Obviously this goddamn medical table I have there is getting a lot of use lmfao, but he sat me down in my mindspace and uh. I've explained it before, but it's hooked up to a sort of bas relief display of a human body and various in-cut holes on various parts that light up to diagnose the areas of problems. This time? Left hip socket.

Left being mental, hip being foundations wise and the connection to stability. The issue wasn't that I was "partially summoning" them as in there was a gap and stuff I just couldnt pull through, but instead I was "partially summoning them" as in filling the rest of their form in with my mind's substance. I was actively taking up space in the totality of the substance, instead of summoning it and letting it be I was effectively mixing it with my own mental substance.

There also was, extending from that, around me a big cushion of mental shit that needed to be taken care of, so we went to work on that.. Effectively back on the medical/operating table he said I need to thread it into something else, Im just hovering a shell of Mind around me that has no purpose and dampens my connection to reality, and uh. That needs to be given a different part of me. He ran through some possibilities, threading it into my tentacles, wings, tail, etc, but eventually we agree to just let it arc to the point it needs to be in. It went straight to the eyes in my skin, making them more real and immediately, weirdly, making the physical plane way more vivid despite is being in the Mental and those eyes being on my Astral body. Anyway. I kinda... didn't fully get on board with it, and so I made the process a little less intense as it first was but he ended up stitching that concept and mental haze into those eyes and uh. Yippie

I definitely am sort of one foot in now wanting to put the other foot in irt grounding the Thousand Eyes. That glimpse of how real they were... yeah woof. Ignoring that the myth is fucked up on the surface level (so. you know. not talking about the allegories of nature and storms breaking through human boundaries and kings weaving their ways into controlling their people's lives and taking what they want from them and so on), that myth of Indra being cursed with a thousand vaginas for violating a woman and eventually having the curse bloom into a thousand eyes is. absolutely. incredibly relevant to this life. specifically the variation of him going to Shiva about it and submitting and listening to him so that he can change in line with how Shiva is... The thousand eyes are just. the theme. And so I'm not going to be able to escape them popping up on my astral body lmfao

[abyssalpriest]

L: Lying on the cold stone floor of your mindspace, serene as if I were dead. So much white here expanding upwards, your domed roof of stained glass a warping eye looking down at me from an above almost higher than a cathedral's roof. I wanted to tell you don't let the rain in, don't change the weather outside, but you're pouring it down effortlessly. Couldn't stop you if I tried. I feel it wash over me like curtains blowing allowing in small spatterings of rain, vivid, real. You are over there wherever there is, not just on the edge of this floating sky temple but on the edge of existence, black cloak half in half out of reality. I knew you eons ago. I remember the place where we met, the exact moment the triple snakes began to sequence the causal expansion to where we are today.

[moirai-au]

“You look sad” Marvin and Jameson? If that works for you?

Timeline: early in Arc 6 - Aftermath, a few days after they defeat the Entity.

Taglist: @immabethehero @bupine​ @tabbynerdicat @i-maybe-exist @its-ethan-bro @sandinthetardis @honestlyitsjustkenna 

His fists clenched and unclenched as he stared ahead, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. The orchids in front of him swayed back and forth slowly, gently, a barely-visible green glow surrounding the damaged stems. “C’mon,” he hissed between clenched teeth, “C’mon, just work already-”

A stab of pain in between his eyes made him gasp, and he lost his grip; the glow faded and  the flowers dropped back into their sorry state. He grabbed the edges of his work table to support himself, clenching his jaw and hiding his face in his free hand; he could feel the uneven skin under his palm.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. But most of all, he wanted his mask.

“Hey.”

Mars yelped and turned around, clutching his chest where he could feel his heart beating frantically. “Jesus, Aster! I told you to stop sneaking up on me like that.”

The demon smirked, showing off his razor-sharp teeth. “Not in a million years. You’re too fun to play with, Scars.”

The young man rolled his eyes, feeling particularly aware of the chilly breeze against his face. “Back to nicknames I see. What, scared to admit you care? Again?”

Aster ignored him, walking around him to poke at the orchids. “The fuck are you doing here anyway? Doc would be pissed if he found out you were out of bed.”

Mars pursed his lips, fiddling with the fabric of his pyjama bottoms. “I’m fine. Just needed some fresh air. I’ve done nothing but sleep while I was stuck in that fucking tank, if I stayed still another minute I would’ve gone insane.”

The fiend hummed. “You should try it sometimes. Sane is boring.”

“What do you want?” Mars sighed, grabbing the plant to put it back in its proper place; the stems were just as ruined as before, the petals dull and drooping. “Other than ruin my day even more, that is.”

“I don’t want shit. He does.”

Mars followed Aster’s gaze; at the entrance of the greenhouse stood a sheepish-looking Charlie, his hand raised in a small wave. Mars blinked, waving back absentmindedly. “Um, hi? Sorry, did you need something?”

The dapper man shook his head, stepping inside the glass house to walk to the mage at a leisurely pace.

“‘kay Dapper, be quick about it,” Aster growled, “I have a nap to get back to.”

“Wait- Jem, you actually found him?”

It was common knowledge at this point; whenever Aster slept -which wasn’t that often- he disappeared from the surface of the Earth. Even Mars, who’d been living in the mansion all his life, who’d explored every nook and cranny of it a hundred times over, could never find where the demon hid to rest.

Well- except for that one time, not long after he got his human body. And that other time, just a week ago. But those were special circumstances.

“Yeah,” Aster relented, glaring at the bowtie-wearing man who only smiled innocently at him. “I don’t know how that weirdo did it either. Said he wanted to talk to you.”

Charlie nodded, his hands signing a slow and hesitant yes. “…Sure,” Mars shrugged. “What about?”

Aster propped his back against a pillar, closing his eyes in concentration. Since the whole… thing had went down the week before, the time traveller had been taken in by their strange little group, having nowhere else to go. Cecil had told them his vocal chords had been destroyed when that demon had slit his throat -a gruesome sight none of them wanted to remember- Aster had been playing translator, using his ability to pick up on the thoughts the time traveller projected. Until the mute was more comfortable with sign language at least.

Mars hadn’t really had the chance to interact with him much, being stuck in a feverish haze the whole time, yet he already knew all there was to know about him.

“I’m worried.” Aster started. His voice was even, calm, a far cry from his usually… intense inflexion. Mars tried to focus on Charles, the sheer bizarrerie of the situation not helping in the slightest.

The man’s warm hazel eyes peered right at him as the demon spoke for him, his hands signing clumsily every few words. “I’m worried. About you.”

Mars stared, dumbfounded. The man who’d been ripped away from his time, who had lost everything and everyone he’d ever known, who’d been captured, locked away, hurt and used as a human puppet for almost a year… was worried about him.

He’d laugh if he didn’t feel like such a useless husk at the moment.

Charlie gestured some more. “You look sad.” Aster translated, arms crossed and eyes still closed. The former mage raised an eyebrow. “What? I don’t. I’m fine.”

“Liar!” Aster hissed, eyes flying open to glare at him. “Stop lying. I fucking hate it when you lie, and you know it.”

Pretender. Fraud.

Charlie visibly tensed at the expletive as Mars scoffed, returning the glare. “And who’s saying that? You or him?”

“Both.” the demon retorted, uncharacteristically serious. “We know you. We’ve been in your head, remember?”

Mars winced, a mess of fractured memories coming to the forefront of his mind.

The blank void. The Architect beckoning him, coercing him to let go, to give up. The despair.

Then voices, first distant and muted, then all-encompassing; four he knew, and one he didn’t.

The merge. All those memories that weren’t his, flooding his mind relentlessly. The feeling of being one, then six, then one.

He’d been Ollie. He’d been Cecil. He’d been Dave. He’d been Charlie, the one he hadn’t known yet. Hell, he’d even been Aster. And they’d been him in return.

Everything they were, everything they’d ever been, mashed together in a single moment, in a single mind, powerful enough to beat their foe.

“I don’t remember much,” Aster’s voice snapped him out of his recollection; he was speaking for Jem again. “But I remember enough still. I know you now, Mars, and I can tell you’re distressed.”

The mage sayed silent for a few seconds; the problem with sharing a mindspace with other people? They’d be able to call you out on your shit.

Jem was right. Back at the forest, right after it was all over, they’d all been stuck in a trance-like state, their minds still linked by a few fraying threads. They’d managed to drag themselves back to the mansion before collapsing in an exhausted pile, unable to tell where each of them started or ended, a few fleeting thoughts and feelings still coursing between them.

The connexion had been snapped for good by the time they woke up the next day, and the memories of the time they’d spent as one had been fading away ever since.

Mars signed. He resisted the urge to hide his face, knowing the futility of the gesture; there wasn’t anything about him that Jamie hadn’t seen already. “Okay, okay.” he relented, sitting on a bench next to his work table. “Fine, ya got me. I feel like shit.”

Charlie nodded. “I figured as much. Do you wish to talk about it?”

The mage snorted; it was so weird to hear such old-fashioned language coming out of Aster’s mouth. “Not really. But I know you won’t leave me alone until I do, so I guess we’re doing this.”

“Indeed we are. Because I know you’ll let it fester inside until someone gets hurt. Most likely you.”

Mars looked down at his lap. He hated how right Jem was. “You sound like Dave.”

“We do share a similar outlook on life. Now,” the time-traveller said patiently, sitting next to the mage, “Penny for your thoughts?”

***

“It just… feels like such a non-problem, you know?”

Marvs didn’t know how long he’d been venting, but once the floodgates had been open, he’d found he couldn’t stop. And Jem just sat next to him, listening to his woes in silence, only nodding from time to time to show he was paying attention. Aster had moved to lay down on the table, his head resting on an arm while the other dangled from the surface. If not for the dim green glow of his barely opened eyes, one could’ve thought he’d fallen asleep. Not that he’d actually would, not in plain sight like this.

The mage scratched at the bandages on his arm; hopefully Cecil would let him take them off for good soon. “My powers, my magic- they were the source of all my problems. I’ve lost count of how many times I wished I hadn’t been born with it. But now…”

He shook his head, fingers digging into his skin. “Now I- I feel wrong. Useless. Broken. Like I’m nothing without- fuck, I actually miss it.”

He laughed mirthlessly. “God, I can’t believe this. I sound like an entitled brat. Oh wait, I am. This is stupid, I’m stupid, you’re literally stranded in the future and I’m complaining about trivial stuff like this, I shouldn’t be upset by this-”

“Bullshit.”

Mars turned back to Charlie, gaping; the man was glaring at Aster, crossing his arms in a disapproving manner. The demon furrowed his brow, opening his eyes to peer at the other. “What? …Oh c’mon old man, it’s the same thing- hey, what’s that supposed to mean? I’m not even- Ugh!”

The fiend growled and clicked in his native tongue before shaking his head and turning to Mars. “Fine. He didn’t say bullshit. He said, and I quote, ‘that’s a pile of moonrocks’.”

Mars blinked; that one was new. “What?”

“It’s not a contest.” Jamie insisted. “How you feel is not daft or unimportant just because some other people are, according to you, worse off.”

“But… don’t you miss your time?”

Charlie looked up, a wistful expression on his face; the sky was clear today, the afternoon sun casting warm rays through the glass ceiling. “Of course I do,” he said through Aster. “My life wasn’t perfect by any means. But it was something, and it was mine.”

He frowned. His hands were tight around his pocket watch, knuckles turning white. “And this… creature took it all away. I can never go back. All for some power he coveted for his grand plan. Did you know I couldn’t even use it anymore?”

That last sentence was directed at Mars, who reeled back in surprise. “Wh- your magic?”

“Yes.”

His head was spinning. It all seemed so… final. “It’s gone? Completely? Are you sure?”

“Quite sure. I’d never noticed it existed before I learned to harness it, but I can say for certainty that this part of me is gone.”

The mustached man tilted his head. “But surely you knew this, did you not? I felt it. The strain. The snap. Like something shattering. That means you all must have felt it as well.”

Mars looked down at his feet. “I- yeah. But I didn’t think… I didn’t know…”

“Do not pity me, friend. I don’t miss it.”

“You don’t?”

“Not one bit. I lived my whole life without it, and using it proved to be my downfall. But you?”

Jamie put a hand on his shoulder. His eyes were steeled by resolve. “You’ve always been aware of this power. It’s brought you pain, a lot of it. But it was still a part of you you learned to live with, to depend on. And without it, I am willing to bet that none of us would’ve met, and that’s not a prospect I’m too fond of. So it’s not surprising that you’d feel a sense of loss. Although…”

He got up, reaching for the orchids above the work table, Mars’ slitted eyes not leaving him for a second. He came back and handed the plant to the mage, his crinkled eyes and dimples showing that he was smiling under his mustache. “Look.”

And as Mars squinted at the flowers, wondering what point the other was trying to make- he saw it.

There, partially hidden beneath the dying stems, were a few bright green buds that definitely weren’t there before.

“Have faith, Mars.” Jameson winked. “I don’t think you’ve completely lost your touch yet.”

Mars looked at Jem, at a loss for words; this was a man who’d been through things he couldn’t even fathom. Yet here he was, still standing. Smiling through it all, bright and warm like a saturated sunrise, despite the obvious grief and trauma he didn’t try to hide when he was having a bad day.

He felt something bloom in his chest. Admiration. Hope.

In this moment, the heavy cloud that hovered over his head seemed so threatening anymore. He smiled. “…Thanks Jem. You’re… pretty swell.”

The dapper fellow smiled even brighter, scratching the back of his head bashfully. Aster made a gagging sound. “Blargh, you fleshbags are gonna make me sick. Dapper, you make me say any more of that sappy shit I swear to fuck-”

Language, Charlie signed. Aster flipped him off.

The mage and the time traveller erupted into chuckles, before the latter gasped. He raised a finger in the air as if to say hold it and got up, running out of the greenhouse like the devil himself was hot on his heels.

“What’s he doing?” Mars asked Aster, puzzled at the other’s behavior.

The imp shrugged, jumping down from the table. “Hell if I know. Heard something about forgetting, and fixing. Whatever, I’m out.”

“What do you mean you’re ‘out’? How am I supposed to-”

“Look,” Aster cut him off with a sneer, “He’s said his piece, I’m done playing parrot for today. Figure it out, genius.”

And with that, he walked away and disappeared into the mansion, leaving Mars sitting awkwardly on the bench.

Thankfully he didn’t have to wait for long, because Charles walked back in not a minute later, visibly holding something. Mars shot to his feet, not believing his eyes. “Jem- Is that my-”

The dapper man beamed as he came to a stop in front of him; in his hands laid his old cat-shaped mask. In one piece.

Well, sort of- the cracks running through it were obvious, having been filled out with a slick golden substance. The thinner cracks all around the edges has been filled in the same manner, giving it an almost regal feel.

It looked beautiful.

“I-” Mars choked, grabbing the mask with reverence, “Shit, Jem, this is- how? I mean, I know how, stuff like this was your job back then- but where? When? I thought- I thought it was lost, back in the forest…”

Charlie signed, slowly. Mars squinted, trying to decipher what the other meant with his very limited knowledge of ASL. “You… found the pieces? Here? In the mansion?”

A nod.

“But how? Did one of us pick them up on the way back?”

A shrug.

“Right, fading memories, got it.”

He looked down at the mask for a few more seconds, taking it all in, before finally holding it up to his face. He fastened the white straps around his head, in fluid motions rehearsed a thousand times, and let out a trembling breath; the weight and feel of it was familiar. Comforting. He smiled down at the tinkerer.

“Thank you.” Mars smiled down at the hat-wearing man, his slitted eyes gleaming in relief and gratitude. “So much. For everything.”

And as Charlie signed what he could only guess meant you’re welcome, he decided he needed to brush up on his sign language.

[britbrodcast]

Only The Thing You Were Told To Be

Um hi, I'm just a nobody but I made a thing a while ago on Wattpad and I wanted to post it on Tumblr since y'all like angst. Since I'm a nobody imma tag a few people that I think will like this

@vortexart @pattonscardigan @14masks @prinxiety-logicality-ss @prinxietytrash

TRIGGER WARNING!!!! Blood, suicidal thoughts, Gore, death, and way too much angst. I'm not really graphic but I still like using descriptive stuff so if your queasy with things from above do not read this

Morality was smiling, he just finished drawing a cute puppy and he was ready to show everyone his creation. He was limping from walking into the edge of his door but that didn't bother him, he could only feel positive emotions, no pain, no nothing. Only happy and optimistic thoughts so when Morality fell down the stairs from being in such a hurry to show everyone his drawing he didn't cry or act the slightest bit frightened when his glasses shattered and the glass had lodged itself all around his eye he didn't panic or freak out. That was Anxiety's job, nor did he feel pain from the glass or the bleeding wounds that now surrounded his eyes, only Anxiety and Prince could feel pain. Patton brushed himself off and he looked at the dog drawing which was now covered in blood.

Morality brushed a bit of the blood off his face, "Well at least I didn't injure myself that much! And now the doggo has very pretty light blue fur!" He brushed himself off and walked towards the commons where he could show off his art. When Morality walked into the commons he met a terrified Anxiety who immediately rushed over to him and asked how he hurt himself, Morality wasn't able to be disappointed that Anxiety hadn't acknowledged his drawing since he couldn't think negatively. It made sense that Anxiety first noticed the bright blue blood that was now running down his face since he embodies worry, fear, anxiety, self-doubt, and all negative thoughts. Anxiety busied himself over patching up Morality while Mor hummed to himself and didn't even notice that Anx was pulling glass shards out of his skin.

When Anxiety was finally finished he sighed, Anxiety wasn't able to feel any form of accomplishment from his task since that was Prince's job. Anxiety muttered, "I um, I'll just go to my room now." He scooped up the first aid supplies and threw the used gauze and the glass shards in the trash before running to his room, probably to have an attack or to do some other Anxious activity. Anxiety has seen the others blood colors before but it still freaked him out. It wasn't natural. Anxiety closed his door and looked at the charts on his bedroom wall: Traits blood colors: Roman- Red/ normal human color: found from seeing the aftermath of fighting a gorgon Logan- Dark Blue/ color of Screen of Death: found when Logic dropped a knife in the kitchen, finger has been sewn back and healed. Me: Black/ color of my soul if I had one: found when I slipped and fell on top of a table, splinters have been removed and compound fracture had been put back to proper place and healed. Patton: Light Blue/ color of the sky: found when he mistook Cerberus as a normal dog, both arms have been found a few days after being torn off and magically healed back to proper place. Anxiety sighed and fell face first onto his bed, he cocooned himself in blankets and passed out from worry and exhaustion.

Roman was in the land of dreams fighting the demons that live within the realm. He could only feel bravery and hopes and he could never let go of his hopes and dreams since it wasn't brave to give up. He was ready for any attack that might come, he was wrong. A figure crept up behind him and Prince could hear the creature's long scaly tail slither up to him. He turned around with the speed of a viper and sliced through the air, a thump was heard and Prince looked at the creature he thought he had just slain. A giant dragon serpent with six heads, the one he had decapitated was slowly reforming and two heads had grown in its place. It was a hydra. Prince looked around for fire since the only way to kill the creature was to burn the decapitated head before it grew back, no fire was in sight so he had to go to plan B, cut off all of the heads and make an escape before they all grew back. Part of his plan worked, he cut off all of the heads and started to run. But he did not escape, a hydra head had bit him in the shoulder. He still thought he could win, even as he was struck in the arm and neck, he still thought he could win. Even when he was on the ground and slowly dying from the poison in his veins, he still thought he could win. As his vision went black he still thought he could win. He then was still, and he never was going to fight another battle for he was dead. All of the the Traits had felt it. Whenever a Trait dies the others inherent the dead Traits abilitys so their host won't become a shell of their former self, that will only happen when every Main Trait is dead and that almost never happens. A few days later Morality was sitting hear a pure white coffin with Prince inside, Anxiety had covered up Prince's wounds and did his best to make him look peaceful. Logan was talking to Morality about how illogical it was for Prince to think he could defeat a hydra. Logic could only think Logical thoughts and would only believe things if they were pure fact. Halfway through the ceremony Anxiety fled off into his room to have a panic attack in peace. Morality was laughing and was telling Logan about all of Prince's embarrassing stories he had collected throughout the years.

As Logic peered into the coffin after the service he noticed the position of the sword and he told Morality how illogical it is to have Prince's sword straight up and down his body so the tip of its blade was touching his throat. Morality ignored Logan and grabbed the front of the coffin to lift it up while Logic grabbed the end of the coffin near Prince's legs. Logic called to Morality, "Don't tip the coffin down." Morality giggled, "You mean like this?" Morality dipped the coffin so his side touched the floor, he then yelped and spat a strange metallic liquid out of his mouth, morality now looked at the blade which was now stuck in Prince's head. His head looked like it was going to fall off his neck at any moment, Logic yelled, "Now look what you've done!" He grabbed the hilt of the sword and pulled, Prince's head was now touching his collarbone, the back of his head had a giant stab wound that was filling the white coffin with red blood. Logic grabbed the coffin and sword, he made a mistake of holding a 50 pound coffin with a hundred pound Trait inside of it with one hand, he fell and the sword flew into the air. Logan noticed it's trajectory and where it would land but it was too late, the sword had impaled itself in Logan's gut. Morality set down the coffin and smiled at the impaled Trait, "Common Lo-Lo!" He nudged the Trait with his foot who was mumbling about how the wound was fatal and that nothing could heal him, a pool of dark blue blood slowly forming around him. Morality smiled, "you must be tired, here. I'll help you!" He pulled out the blade and placed it on an angle near the coffin. He then picked up the Trait but he lost his grip on the bloody and slippery Trait and dropped him. Logic's mutterings were cut short, so was his head. It rolled across the floor but Morality grabbed it, and giggled "Oh you silly, you'll need this!" He then dragged Logan to his room, slowly the trail of blue liquid stopped for there was no more of it in Logan's body. Morality placed Logic in his bed and put his head where it should be, he kissed the corpse, "Don't let the bedbugs bite!"

He closed the door, his inheritance of Prince's abilities started to shift the mindspace, a few minutes after he closed the door small black beetles swarmed the dead Trait and when they dispersed only a blue tie and broken glasses remained. Anxiety was in his room from another panic attack, Prince was dead and from the now logical thoughts in his head he knew what had happened, Logic was dead. He knew that Traits who were opposite to another wouldn't feel the entirety of the dead Traits abilities within an hour. Anxiety managed to grab a black revolver and check the ammo, it only had three bullets left. (A/N: I'm sorry I don't know anything about guns) Anxiety walked to Morality's room to find said Trait sitting on his bed drenched in blood, he smiled and the red and dark blue liquid covering his teeth made it look like he was insane, "hey Anx!" Anxiety looked at the Trait, "I... Um, need you to do me a favor." Morality hoped off the bed, "sure thing kiddo, what is it?" "Hold this." Anxiety handed Morality the gun, Morality somehow held the gun correctly, apparently Logics abilities were appearing quicker than Anxiety thought, Anx pointed at the trigger, "Mor, I need you to pull the thing that your pointer finger is on." Mor moved away from Anx, Anxiety yelped, "Nope! Not like that! Put it here," He guided the gun to his temple. "You can move your finger now." BANG!! The light was slowly going out of Anxiety's eyes, he managed to say, "T-T-Th-Thanks, D-Da-Dad, I-I'm So-So-Sor-Sorry." The life hand vanished out of his eyes. Morality being the last Trait, immediately inherits the dead Traits abilities, now a whole person. He notices what he has done, in a day three people had died, two of them he saw, and two of them he helped kill. He soon made the death count to 4, He put the gun on the same place Anxiety had and he pulled the trigger. Thomas was making a new YouTube video, he then stopped, his eyes suddenly loosing the spark of happiness in them, now not able to speak or even think, he was a shell of his former self. His only purpose was to live, he could do nothing by himself. He 'woke up' in a hospital bed and his friends were standing around him, Joan asked, "Thomas? Are you alright?" A image appeared next to Thomas, a image of all the dead Traits and morality pulling the trigger and just before he died he said, "I'm sorry.." he then later still, and he closed his eyes for the last time. Everyone was shocked, first of all from the blood and carnage, second to that a hologram appeared in front of them, and third that the Sander Sides were real. Thomas opened his eyes, they were dull and he looked off into the distance. Terrence understood what happened, he waved his hand in front of Thomas's face, "Thomas, can you understand me? Please respond." Thomas didn't respond, he just looked into the distance, Something had died inside Thomas that day but not only one, but four parts of him had left. _timeskip 20 years_ A few moments before Thomas's death he spoke for the first time in 20 years. At his funeral the video was shown, his eyes were still vacant but he spoke, "take it easy guys, gals, and non-binary pals. Peace out." And the life vanished from his figure, his eyes closed and he stopped breathing.

[serenephenix]

Rising Tide - Part 1/2

No one touches Pidge. No one.

Also sorry for the quality but my brain is fried but unable to shut down

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Rising Tide

[Fandom]:Voltron: Legendary Defender

[Rating]: Teen Audience/ Gen

[Genre]: Friendship, Sickfic, Team as Family

[Word count]:  2.000

[Warning]: canon-typical violence, graphic depiction of violence

[Status]: wip

Big thanks to @taylor-tut for letting me play around with another prompt 1 & 2

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The situation was hopeless.

And he wasn’t even exaggerating on this one. Lance meant it. Unless there was some sort of miracle happening, there was no way that they would escape their impending imprisonment or worse… deaths.

He felt the press of the still hot muzzle of a gun against the very base of his skull. The metal had even burned him, him letting out a scream because of it: a scream that got stuck in his throat when a Galra kicked him in his stomach to silence him.

Pidge had struggled, cursed even as Lance did everything in his power not to keel over, to regain his bearings and his breath.

They looked terrified, moisture clinging to the Green Paladin’s lashes but not enough to spill and fall and the sight made something clench painfully in his aching gut.

Lance tried to remember when exactly this mission had turned south and found he couldn’t tell what it was that had led to him and Pidge kneeling on the sand of a beach that looked like it was made of diamond dust, cyan waters and waves lapping at the shore and the tip of Lance’s shoes.

It was reckon mission. Take Green, hop out, do some scans, do some foraging, hop back on and be back to the Castle by dinner. Well, that sure had turned out the way they had planned. Because none of the scans had spoken of a base, hidden under the planet’s crust but the simple fact that they were now at the mercy of their enemy was proof enough that either someone had been sloppy about the scans or that their equipment really was far too outdated.

Either way, it didn’t matter. What mattered was to find a solution to this before it was too late.

He mustered a glare at the Galra, this one looking like he actually belonged into water with his webbed fingers and skin that had a slimy sheen to it. His bulging, yellow eyes were studying them with contempt as he paced in front of them.

Finally, he came to stand still, cocking his head to the side before a nasty smile revealed two rows of sharp, pointy teeth. They reminded Lance far too much of a shark’s.

“Never would I have believed that the Paladins of Voltron would so willingly offer themselves to the empire. Lord Zarkon shall be most pleased.”

He circled them like a predator, gauging their reactions. As Lance chanced a glance at Pidge from the corner of his eyes, he realized just how incredibly brave they were – there was no submission, no fear, just sheer teenage stubbornness jammed into a small frame filled to the brim with pure defiance and anger.

The sight itself gave Lance some of his own confidence back.

But they needed a plan. They needed help. Too bad the Galra had not dumb enough to let them keep their helmets and thus their only link back to the Castle of Lions. So, contacting the others was no option.

Green was on the other side of the island they had landed on. An island that was nothing but cold, dead rock; miles of it actually that they had yet to properly explore when one of them had stepped onto a device hidden in the sand, slamming them into the ground as though the planet’s gravity had increased tenfold in this particular spot.

Lance wondered if Pidge had any idea what exactly it was that had held them down until a sort of hatch had opened not too far from them from where a handful of drones and what seemed to be a high ranking officer had poured out no sooner had they been incapacitated.

The Galra came to stand before Pidge, frowning down at them, displeased at the lack of fear in his presence.

It made ice shoot through Lance’s veins, his nerves alight with apprehension.

He wished Blue were here, his Lion, suited for the waters, stronger than ever when around her element. He wished they had visuals on a white spaceship in the planet’s atmosphere.

He wished he could make his own mind slow down, make himself forget about the sharp metal still digging into the skin of his wrists and into his neck. Wished he calm his frantic heartbeat when the Galra’s expression took on something icy as he continued glaring at Pidge who remained firm and unwavering.

Before Lance had a chance to blink, the Galra’s fist came down and Pidge’s head whipped to the side as they gasped both from shock and the force of the impact.

Lance screamed, feet under him getting into position to bolt and tackle that bastard even with his hands bound, but the drone at his back had him pinned down in a tick, pushing Lance into the ground.

He caught sight of Pidge’s face, the skin on their cheekbone bloody with a bruise already forming, their whole face scrunched up in pain. Despite sitting crookedly, those glasses still were there, the side of it digging into his friend’s temple.

Lance struggled against his captors, snarling at the Garla staring down at the Green Paladin from the tip of his pretty much none-existent nose, only giving Lance any kind of attention when he yelled.

“Why you! You scumbag!”

His outburst left their captor unimpressed.

“I dislike people not showing me the proper amount of respect.”

He said it casually as he flicked away some dirt he had picked at under his nail. He turned back to Pidge.

“And I will not tolerate it while I keep you here until Lord Zarkon arrives.”

His hand reached for the smaller Paladin and Lance could tell from its path that he was going for the hair, that he was going to grab them by it and drag the cuffed Paladin by it. And judging by Pidge’s expression, they were aware of that as well.

He wished Green would come for them like Red did for Keith, even though the smaller Lion was out of its element on this stupid planet.

If it were Blue, they could use it to their advantage.

But Blue was in her hangar, almost on the other side of this stupid planet, probably unaware of the danger they were in, unaware of the danger that was to come if this Galra did call upon Zarkon. And when he came, warping to their location, there would be no Voltron to hold him off and the universe would be doomed.

His chest felt too small for the sudden flood of emotions choking him, the sudden realization how fast everything could go terribly, horribly wrong and he found himself instinctively reaching out to that corner of his mind that had never been vacant ever since that barrier dissolved in an underground cave.

“Blue!”

It was a slim chance, nothing more but a desperate wish, a faint hope that maybe their bond was strong enough for them to overcome thousands of miles. There was a faint stir in their shared mindspace, a slight disturbance but Lance latched onto it like a drowning man onto a lifeline.

There was a sharp cry and Lance’s concentration was shortly broken as he saw Pidge hanging from the Galra’s grasp, clawed hand fisted into their hair and holding their weight up so that they could not brace some of it on their knees or feet.

Tears of pain were running down their face in earnest, breath hitching and eyes screwed shut.

Lance could feel his own breath speeding up, could feel his heart beat into overdrive at the sight. This wasn’t happening.

“Let them go!”

It had not the desired effect, his voice breaking mid-shout, too high pitched and afraid to ever be taken seriously. There was something in his brain shifting and stirring, Blue perhaps, but his undivided attention rested on the individual in front of him, that malicious grin foreboding.

The Galra’s other hand went up to go around Pidge’s throat, not yet squeezing, not even brushing but the promise, the threat of it, hung in the air. Pidge’s whimper was like a bullet to the chest.

And Lance could feel panic rise inside of him, a panic he registered could not be entirely his own in its overwhelming intensity, swelling and twisting and clashing and -

It became more.

It was rising still.

Ever stronger, surging like the waters of a river after torrents of rain, cascading and flowing, sweeping away all and everything in its path.

It was the crushing force of ice, growing to be mountains, pulverizing that which stood in its way as it pushed ever onward.

It was like the untamable force of the depths, overwhelming and dark and ominous and old, swallowing all and any foolish enough to venture this far.

It was at the tips of their fingers, lapped at their feet, filled their lungs, heart and minds.

It lashed out and cut.

It whipped and broke.

It pierced and burned.

It cleared the path.

It calmed and soothed, washing over the hurt, cool and fluid, coiling and protecting.

It-

“Lance!”

Lance felt himself falling forward, limp and shivering, as though he’d been hit by a blizzard with no shelter.

He hit the sand with a wet splash, cyan water filling up his mouth and nose and Lance was entirely too powerless to stop it, realizing in a distant sort of way that he couldn’t move, couldn’t even twitch, could not get his mouth to close.

Hands grabbed his shoulders, heaved him up just far enough for him to topple onto his back to stare at a sky that was growing a dark indigo. A sky he could no longer see as Pidge’s face bent over him.

Their eyes were huge behind the spectacles, filled with a feverish panic and hesitancy Lance had never seen there before. Why did they look scared? He did not want them to be scared.

He wanted to joke, to smile, to raise his hand so he could give a hug or pat them on the back reassuringly, wanted to move his lips so he could form the words for a teasing question. But nothing worked.

He was paralyzed and the realization did not scare him as much as it should in the same manner it seemed to scare his friend.

He was aware of the rise and fall of his chest as he struggled to get air into his lungs, oversensitive skin irritated by the way the wet suit clung to him uncomfortably.

Was that why he was so cold, why he was shivering so hard?

There was the sound of a slap and it took him a moment to register that one of his cheeks was stinging with tiny needle pinpricks, for his brain to make a connection between the sensation and Pidge’s hand hovering close to his face.

Their mouth was moving and there was sound, sound that Lance could not comprehend, far too quick and garbled like with a badly tuned radio.

Fingers tangled in his hair, lifting his head while others found their way beneath his chin, pressing into soft and giving flesh. Looking for his pulse point.

Lance’s eyes rolled to stare at Pidge directly, willing them to look him in the eye as their own chest seemed to move frantically, too fast, too ragged.

They caught the movement of his unfocused eyes and stared long and hard, their hands remaining on him, Lance only being able to tell because of their warmth seeping into his numb skin.

His eyes lost focus once, twice, each feeling like it was actually being pulled from its socket as he fought against a pull he could not name and the sudden realization that he was going to faint struck him like lightning just as he felt his eyes roll into the back of his head, felt his shaking limbs go loose.

And at the back of his mind, he felt the soothing pull towards his Lion’s presence, curling around him as if he were her cub, smothering him in warmth he did not know where it had disappeared to in the first place.

[blackvahana]

28/1/28

Agni's flame goes out as the throat singing in Lonely Bird starts. 5:55am.

Last night, I made a portal inside my mindspace leading into the Astral. I felt it being made when it shouldn't have been; I have a key I need to pick up when I want to make changes to the mindspace to prevent unintended changes… I was not allowed to pick it up. Told to put it down, my self wanted to create it.

Where does it go to? It was calling to the Sky - of course, this mindspace is a tall temple in the sky - but where above? My physical house? My astral house? No. Neutral. A gateway into this world, somewhere that calls to me and where I can exist freely. A beginning. A place called home. A valley between Mother Earth's thighs opened for the Sky to settle in when he needs rest.

Mongolia.

The portal is a gateway, transforming. I walked through it, awakening as a spectral form of the Sky Bird, huge, taller than the mountain I was resting my claws on. I look up as I write this, the wick of the spell candle in front of me burns in the shape of a dragon… Anyway.

It's a form I know well, but I don't know what to call it in English. Open eyes, rounded meat-pulling beak, a hawk or an eagle. I think even this is a translation built on birds I have near me, because it doesn't feel like the hawk-like Sky Bird that travels this area, it feels distinctly... localised. To me. Translated. Incarnated.

Gliding over currents, through them, stacked waves upon waves. People wander the valley, they hunt. I come back. I -