#the amount of times i have been devastated so far is sinister

[wintersettled]

Odasaku's "someday in a room with a seaside view" and Nanami's "Malaysia... Kuantan would be nice...." in a competition to see which will be my final straw

[hellowkatey]

Febuwhump Day 15

Prompt: “Run. Don’t look back.” 

This is part 3/3 of the Hell on Hoth plot line, connecting to days 13 and 14. Part 1 | Part 2

Read on AO3

Coming Down From it All 

It takes three months to find Zan Arbor. And even so, they aren't even sure if they found her or someone who is using her old theories. As good of news as it was to finally have tracked her down, Anakin's stomach dropped when he heard the location.

"Hoth?" he looks up at Obi-Wan with utter devastation. "Seriously? Why would she go back?"

They left sensors in the lab they found within the ice tunnel, and yesterday those sensors were tripped. Their surveillance indicates there's activity still going on, which brings them to the ship descending upon a place that is quickly moving into the position of Anakin's least favorite planet.

"They have no way of knowing we were there. Zan Arbor probably thinks the location is safe."

Anakin crosses his arms. "You don't think she had surveillance on the place too?"

The Jedi Master sighs. Anakin eyes the dark bags that seem to stretch all the way to the line of his beard, and the hollowness of his tired gaze. It's been a rough three months. Obi-Wan took two weeks to recover enough to go back into the field, and even then he was barred from the front line for another month. If being sidelined wasn't enough, they've had to dig deep into Zan Arbor's history and well... Anakin thinks he understands why in his injured stupor he called out for Qui-Gon.

He'd heard the basics of the story when Zan Arbor kidnapped him, but never the details. (As talented a storyteller as Obi-Wan is, he doesn't like to draw from his padawan experiences-- something that always annoyed Anakin, but then again, every time he actually does get to hear a story it always seems to be tragic. Once he started training Ahsoka, he started to understand a little bit why Obi-Wan wasn't keen on sharing such details with him as a kid. But now that he's a knight, he wishes his master would tell him more about him and Qui-Gon's adventures.)

"I don't doubt she had surveillance," Obi-Wan says. "She is cunning and paranoid-- an annoyingly effective combination."

"So we're walking into a trap?"

"Possibly."

"Why don't you sound worried about that?" Anakin says, a tinge of outrage coming through his tone. He knows first hand the evil this woman can do. The memory of his poisoning by her hand is a haze at best, but somehow the lost time was far more worrisome than whatever happened when he was under the influence.

"The capture of Zan Arbor is the safety of the galaxy," Obi-Wan says, giving him a faraway look. "We're going to Hoth."

They land on the icy wasteland and head back through the destroyed Separatist ship, which thankfully hasn't moved in the last few months, only gained a thick layer of snow and ice. The cold is somehow even more unbearable this time around. His parka seems to do nothing to keep the cold out. Despite two layers of gloves his fingers still feel numb and tingly. Tatooine was bad, but at least it wasn't cold.

It feels wrong to be back in the tunnel, which is already lit up when they arrive. Like they're being welcomed. Anakin is constantly reminded of the last time they were here. Falling through the ship. The panic of watching Obi-Wan bleeding out on the ground. He shutters.

Obi-Wan's commlink lights up. A holographic Cody appears.

"Sir the lifeform scans are back."

"Very good, what's the reading?"

"Two lifeforms, sir. Minimal movement so far from both."

Obi-Wan strokes his beard the way he always does when he's thinking. "Hopefully the scientist is in, then."

"Do you think she wouldn't be?" Anakin asks.

"Zan Arbor likes having two subjects at a time when dealing with Force-sensitives. Allows for... manipulation of our values." Anakin suddenly recalls that Qui-Gon was being held with another Force-sensitive. Zan Arbor rigged a sensor that would release poison into the other if Master Jinn tried to leave. It would be against the code to allow harm to an innocent that could be prevented by inaction. "We will check it out, though."

Cody disappears. They have one more corner to turn. The 501st should be in position on the other entrances of the lab. Before taking the last turn, the Jedi stop, pulling out their lightsabers.

"Be mindful of your emotions, Anakin." his former master says carefully. Though he wants to argue that he isn't a kid anymore, he can also feel his nerves swelling in the pit of his stomach like they often did when he was a padawan. Zan Arbor captured and poisoned him. Captured and nearly killed Master Jinn. He has many feelings about what he'd like to do with this monster.

So maybe he does need to be a little more mindful. But she's not getting the nice-guy treatment from him.

"Yes, Master," he says in earnest, taking a deep breath and letting his frustration go into the Force.

Lightsabers ignite, and they run into the icy unknown.

It's larger than he remembers. Anakin was so focused on Obi-Wan, he didn't get a good view of the cavern the first time, but now he is honed into the focus of the Force, and can feel the tendrils of death and despair sullying the rather beautiful room. The lab is active, his eyes immediately drawn to the person strapped to a tilt table, head sagged into their chest and skin a concerning gray tinge. He reaches through the Force to find a presence, a sign of life. He doesn't find one.

As for the other lifeform they scanned, a blonde female comes jumping out from behind the bacta tank, her gray eyes glaring at the Jedi with manic intensity. Anakin's breath catches. Jenna Zan Arbor hasn't changed a bit since she captured him years ago. She holds something up in the air-- a device with a large button on it. It's enough for them to come to a skidding stop, Obi-Wan a few meters ahead of him.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi," her lips curl into a smile. "and is that little Anakin all grown up? What a pleasure!"

"So it is you behind this," Obi-Wan says, motioning to the lab. "I thought you put this project behind you a long time ago."

She chuckles. Through their bond, Obi-Wan suggests to him to look for places she could have hidden explosive devices or ray shield fields... whatever the device must be connected to. Anakin is already on it, scanning every surface he can see.

"Oh Kenobi, the pursuit of knowledge stops for nothing."

"Not even imprisonment, I see."

"It's simple supply and demand," she steps out entirely from behind the bacta tank, the device still displayed in plain view. "and to understand the power of the Force is in high demand during such a war."

"And it was in demand when you took Qui-Gon?"

Anakin can't find anything that would indicate an explosive or ray shield generator. Is she bluffing? he projects through their bond.

Oh, would you like to find out?

Zan Arbor cocks her head to the side, looking at Obi-Wan as though he is an innocent child. "Qui-Gon Jinn, my dear Kenobi, was just to satisfy my curiosity."

Ever the sadist. Anakin takes a step forward. "Listen, lady, I don't know what leverage you think you have. Your prisoner is already dead, and we have you surrounded."

Her intense gaze flickers to him. It's a look he hasn't forgotten. "You think I wasn't expecting you?"

He glances over at the lab table. A mixture boils on the burner, the glassware now scorched along the bottom as it overheats. He looks at the body of the prisoner, not a Jedi he knows, but probably a Force-sensitive that was never brought to the Temple. The cuts are new, still oozing blood that also stains Zan Arbor's apron and hands. Anakin smirks and raises his lightsaber.

"No, you weren't expecting us," he says confidently. She was in the middle of her work when they arrived. Why would she begin experiments if she was lying in wait for them to find her? "And now we're going to take you in, Zan Arbor."

She looks stunned for a moment, but then it fades into a sinister grin. Wordlessly she holds up the button and presses it.

As it turns out, Anakin was wrong about it being a bluff.

He takes a step back, and then another, expecting a fiery explosion, but instead, the burners on the semicircle of lab tables turn on at once, and within seconds a blue cloud of gas starts to erupt. Anakin's eyes widen, his mind flashing back to the Zone of Self-Containment drug and then completely going blank with surprise. He looks from the menacing cloud to Obi-Wan, and his blood runs cold. As Obi-Wan was ahead of him, he now stands in the midst of the blue blur, his face buried in his elbow as he sways a little. His master's eyes meet his, and he drops his elbow.

"Run, Anakin. Don't look back," he yells, his voice choking.

"Obi-Wan, no--" but he isn't given a choice. A wave of the Force hits him like a wall and he is being pushed back, boots slipping with ease across the snow-covered ground. Another wave sends him flying now, and he slams into the ground, sliding back-first into the wall of ice. The blue cloud has taken over much of the room now, and as he searches the hazy room, he sees no sign of his former master.

"Rex," Anakin says into his commlink, bringing himself to his feet. "Come in, Rex!"

"General, do we engage?"

"Rex, listen to me, Zan Arbor is probably escaping. Stay on the exits. But I need you to blow a hole in the ceiling of this thing."

"Sir?"

"Possible poison gas has been released, I need a hole to air it out, now!"

"Right on it," He hears orders being barked. "Is the area clear?"

"It will be. Just do it," he says, putting his commlink away. Anakin draws in as deep a breath as he can, and plunges into the cloud of gas.

__________

A few things go through Obi-Wan's head as he is encompassed with a mysterious gas.

1. Of course she wasn't bluffing, Anakin, you cocky womprat.

2. What could she release that wouldn't affect her as well?

and

3. Perhaps she is bluffing.

The principles of biological warfare rely on mass panic--  a giant blue cloud of unknown contents certainly invokes a good amount of hysteria. While it certainly obstructs his view and has a horrible smell and taste to it, Obi-Wan realizes he isn't experiencing the symptoms of poisoning.

He smiles.

The faint outline of Zan Arbor making a break for it is just visible enough for him to run after her. He rams into a table or two, but soon enough the cloud begins to clear and he finds himself in another tunnel, the scientist close ahead of him.

"So it was a bluff," he says as he swings his lightsaber across her path, stopping her short. She pushes the strands of her blonde hair out of her face, panting hard.

"You just love ruining my work, don't you?"

"You experiment on unwilling participants!"

"It's the pursuit of knowledge and--"

"I truly don't want to hear your threadbare defense." He interrupts. "In the name of the Galactic Republic, you are under arrest for unsanctioned experimentation and violations of the sentient rights act."

To his surprise, she smiles. "You should ask yourself first, Kenobi. Was I bluffing?"

The ground and walls shake as an explosion resonates from the lab. Obi-Wan looks behind him for a moment, as the icicles atop the ceiling rattle menacingly and then calm, and then back to his captive. Except Zan Arbor is gone. The tunnel is empty, and not even a tunnel but the wall of a dead end.

Or the floor? He opens his eyes-- when were they closed?-- and he's lying on his stomach on the ground, his cheek numb from laying against the snow.

"What in blazes--" he mutters, pushing himself up.

"Is this five now?" Anakin's voice rings out with a smug tone.

"Five what?" he says, rolling onto his side and then sitting up. They're seated along the wall of the tunnel they came in from.

"The fifth time I've saved your skin."

He rolls his eyes. "What happened, Anakin."

"I saved your--"

"I'll be the judge of that. Details."

Anakin's smile fades. "You ever so sacrificially pushed me out of the gas. Not your best plan, because you collapsed pretty much instantly and I had to come save you."

"I'd say it was a good plan, otherwise who would have been conscious to come to get me?"

He considers this a moment and then shrugs. "Okay fine, fair enough. You didn't have to be so dramatic about it, though. Rex blew a hole in the lab to dissipate the gas, and it pretty much collapsed the entire structure."

"And Zan Arbor?"

"The boys caught her in one of the escape tunnels."

He blinks. "Jenna Zan Arbor has been captured?"

Anakin smiles smugly. "All while you took a lovely nap, yes, Master."

At that moment, Rex and a few other clones come around the corner.

"You need med?" he asks.

"Yes."

"No," Anakin and Obi-Wan say in unison before glaring at one another. "I'm quite fine now," Obi-Wan reassures him, using the wall to help him get to his feet.

"Actually fine, or hiding a broken rib and collapsed lung fine?"

Obi-Wan turns to give him another disapproving glare, but the world starts to sway a little. Anakin is at his side in an instant, looping Obi-Wan's arm over his shoulders.

"Right. Okay, Master let's go pay your favorite person a visit."

"I am quite sure I am Kix's least favorite person," he grumbles, earning a chuckle from Rex that only confirms his suspicions. Anakin just shakes his head, leading him back up the tunnel.

"Can we agree to never return to Hoth?" he asks as they near having to brave the outside elements once again.

"But what if there's a battle here?" Obi-Wan muses.

"We don't have to win them all."

The Jedi Master laughs. "Wait until the holonet finds out the Hero-With-No-Fear is afraid of the cold."

"I'm not afraid of the cold!"

"Then you will be the Hero-With-One-Fear."

They're in the evac ship, and Anakin deposits him in a chair.

"You're hilarious," he says facetiously. "I'm going to see what's taking Rex."

"Oh don't pout, Anakin, only one fear is still quite impressive," he calls after him, smiling widely. He hears him talking outside the ship, his words carried away by the howling wind. Obi-Wan looks out onto the landscape of swirling snow and mountains of ice. It is quite beautiful, but deceivingly deadly. He too would enjoy never having to return to Hoth if he can help it.

But to capture Jenna Zan Arbor once and for all? That comfort is worth all the numb limbs and broken ribs Hoth can offer.

[obeymeluv]

Ohhh how about the boys reacting to a lower demon hitting on reader? Like aggressively hitting on them that it’s already quite uncomfortable? Or it could be the shy, almost sweet type?

Hey there! Holy wow, how long has this been here? I usually check Tumblr from my phone and I guess message notifications don’t come through? So sorry T_T

Either way, Nonnie, this isn’t good :o

Divider from Glitter Geeks

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“It cannot be helped, for I am born of sin and they inspire it in me.”

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Lucifer

This is the BIGGEST, ULTIMATE NO

Like, all of Mammon’s past transgressions don’t POSSIBLY add up to this insult

At first Lucifer pays no mind because you seem to be integrating into the Devildom and furthering Diavolo’s grand plan. Good!

Then it starts to gnaw at him and he really pays attention. Call it the keen eye of an ex-angel, to watch over humans

Half of him is earnestly trying to plan things to say on the way over, not hearing how his own footsteps echo thunderously with impending doom, but half of him can’t even concentrate due to the overwhelming sense of wrong.

You seem very uncomfortable, this lesser demon is more incompetent than he thought possible, and there’s something hot and nauseating burning in him. It almost hurts to clear his throat, honestly

It feels like the part he’d forgotten about...almost all that Satan was. He honestly thought he didn’t have any wrath left in him, for pride seemed far nastier a thing to be stuck with

He lets those big black wings, once the pride of the Celestial Realm, unfurl in a great and terrifying display. He used to shine in the Celestial Realm when he revealed his true form, but in the Devildom it translates as pure heat

He fans his wings to cool the air around you but the lesser demon now knows his looming shadow and his terrifying presence

If the demon is bold enough to stick around, Lucifer introduces you as the resident human transfer, discourages them from making you late, and suggests any further interaction happen in the presence of one of your seven guardians (“Of which I am one.”)

Although he mentioned seven guardians, it’s clear that he’s the key guardian. The one who will oversee all, and that’s enough to send the demon skittering away.

It takes a few minutes for the air to cool and his wings to fold back in and Lucifer uses that time to glare a burning hole into the lesser creature.

Finally he looks at you and asks you how you’re feeling. Nothing bad happened? Do you need to file paperwork?

Would probably consort with Diavolo to cast a minor enchantment so you could protect yourself if one of the brothers weren’t around

Mammon

You think another demon’s going to get close enough to talk to you? While in the presence of your NUMBER ONE MAN?! Ha!

Mammon may complain about having to go to classes and tries to convince you to ditch more often than not, but he really does look out for you

And boy is Greed’s Avatar so he’s not going to skimp on the company

That also means he’s not going to share your company when he doesn’t feel like it

Mammon may not be openly flirtatious like Asmo, but he knows all about swindling people for their heart (for it is just as valuable as money) and he knows when this demon comes slithering up that he’s BAD NEWS

He’s clever with money-making schemes, has successfully stolen from almost all of his brothers to pawn things, and has brokered deals with witches in such a way that he’s barely affected. Boy’s going to know how to dodge a creep

And for a while, it works. He teaches you back passages and all sorts of little things

But, inevitably, you have to face it alone. He’s not going to always be there.

And he kicks himself when he’s not. Seems he’s only minutes late but ANYBODY who knows you--like your number one man!--knows you’re uncomfortable and THE GREAT MAMMON has to do something!

What does he do? The biggest, loudest, flashiest thing possible. THE BIGGEST SIGN YOU COULD GIVE ANYBODY

If the demon isn’t discouraged from Mammon yell-talking at you halfway down the corridor, Mammon gets to see the delicious way he deflates after he throws an arm around your neck and starts apologizing to ‘his human’ about being late

If he’s in a bad mood that day, he’ll probably toss the demon a single Grimm and tell him to get lost or go buy himself something nice.

The height difference is probably pretty significant so it’s easier for him to just scoop you under his arm and carry you down the hall. Or let his tail wrap around you and walk you down the hall.

Leviathan

I’d be interested to see Levi in this position, honestly. Part of me thinks he’d be too shy to do anything, instead sulking in his room, but part of me thinks once he sees you as a friend (or something more) he’s going to go to bat for you

If it’s that second one, he’d be slyly demeaning. Being the third-born, he’s probably got an intelligent sarcastic streak like Lucifer and a subtle underhandedness like Mammon.

As the Avatar of Envy, his main game is to make the lesser demon feel insignificant by pointing out how little they know you. They’re not your real friend like him so obviously they’re nothing.

He’s much better, anyways. They’re an NPC, he’s Player 1.

I’m also very, very curious about his position in the Devildom Navy. Is that some kind of a switch-flip moment where he can command a room no questions asked, or is it some kind of wickedly good strategy innateness?

Being a background person (and having Asmo as a brother), he probably overhears a lot of gossip. He’d probably drop some real gossip, something embarrassing. Probably say you were needed by Lucifer, as that’s more to-the-point and believable

The aim of the game is to send the demon away, to create distance. Mission accomplished.

Satan

He won’t intervene until he gets the idea that you’re uncomfortable. It’s a whole process with this one.

On the one hand, he wants you to be able to handle yourself. If you are not enough to send the creature away, then he’ll intervene. Partly because he’s technically responsible for you, partly because he cannot stand idly by and entertain this idiocy.

Satan has many tricks but his favorite one is to freeze the demon out by ignoring him.

Totally dominates/inserts himself into the conversation. Makes the demon feel like he isn’t there.

If that doesn’t work and your scrambling to corroborate him or just back out of the conversation, Satan speaks for you. (”We’re studying later.”, etc.). If the demon tries for another day, Satan just coolly adds ‘and tomorrow’ or ‘for the rest of the week’ until the point is made.

The longer this issue continues--despite his help--the more the Avatar of Wrath begins to reveal himself. That aura alone is usually enough to send anything running.

Kinda feels like he made an ass of himself no matter what, and apologizes after you two are alone. Is very cute and embarrassed.

Gives you a biting book. It’s an enchanted tome you can train not to bite certain people. You two are the only ones that can hold it. He looks forward to seeing how many people it bites before the week is over (a little too happy). 

Asmodeus

Oh the many ways this could be handled! Asmo has so many ideas!

At first his little heart skips a beat because how cute is this?! A cliche romance unfolding in the halls of RAD between a human and a demon? Then his little ‘radar’ begins to ping and he realizes not all is well or cute

He was kind of glad, honestly. You could do MUCH better (like him!)

It could be as easy as Asmo sliding in and charming the lesser demon to leave you alone, walking away in a stupor, or more complicated and sinister

Asmo’s never done anything truly, intentionally sinister but rumor mills can be pretty devastating. The lesser demon may find himself at the center of some unsavory rumors that cause him to slink around the general populous

The narcissistic fifth-born probably has something of a following. He may appoint some of his followers as body guards or just extra eyes to keep you safe

Or he could do a total 180 and make this lesser demon seem totally dreamy to others so they get chased and leave you alone. Yes, he quite likes that one!

Then there’s the traditional route, the most obvious (which Asmo prefers because, honestly, you two would be the CUTEST couple) where he’s your boyfriend and you guys didn’t want to tell anyone but OOPS! SECRET’S OUT! Great, now go away! Wait, take a picture for his Devilgram first! Okay, now go. 

Beelzebub

Probably takes Beel a bit to notice your discomfort. If he’s not distracted with food, it’s because he didn’t want to act in bad faith. What if you actually liked talking to that demon? What if you were just awkward like Levi? It’s a delicate matter.

Beel is no fool, though. He’s very friendly. If he introduces himself and the lesser demon doesn’t quit his behavior, Beel will then turn serious.

Tries to emphasize to the demon that you’ve said no

May show muscle or offer up a challenge. Sometimes people are hard-headed like that and need action.

“You want to date them? Beat me in an arm-wrestling competition.” (they won’t)

Beelzebub can be down-right crafty. “You want to date them? Beat me in an eating competition.” (he’s the undisputed champion).

I think he’d use his size in a good way. If this demon keeps cornering you/pestering you, Beel’s going to make a habit of walking between you or just picking you up until the demon gets the hint that if Beel’s around, he’s not talking to you

Belphegor

The smallest part of him is too tired to deal with this but he’s powered by the sheer amount of HELL NO and decides he has to fix it.

Fix it once and it stops

Belphie, like Satan and Lucifer, has  a low tolerance for stupid things. This demon is one of them.

Very cut-throat and point blank. “They’re not interested. Go away.”

Lord Diavolo and Lucifer expressly mentioned they couldn’t use their powers on YOU, not other demons. Belphie can probably make people really sleepy. He’d make this demon so deliriously tired that he couldn’t flirt with you

Definitely the type to make the demon pass out in the hall and leave him there. Head injury? No clue, he had to go to class. It’s okay, the other RAD students probably won’t step on them.

So mad about the demon. “Honestly!” as he fluffs his pillow angrily after you two have settled in your next class. It’s the angriest nap he’s ever taken.

I don’t think he takes his pillow to school but you can bet he’d but a brick or something in it and whack them. Maybe try to suffocate them. Probably wouldn’t risk his precious pillow like that.

I bet he’d fake nap if the demon tries to flirt with you in class. LOUD, OBNOXIOUS, GRATING fake snoring.  

Hope you liked it :)

[artobotsrollout]

The fact that, by Megatron standards, a lot of Starscream’s backstabbing ways has been ‘let go’ go despite the amount of plotting he’s done and added on top of that how easily Megtron is willing to let a decepticon die at the drop of a hat and yet he lives really drives home to me the narrative that , as Fowler said, “Starscream’s unpredictability makes him arguably even more dangerous than Megatron.”

Like yeah he’s shown fecking up a lot in the show but the more i think about it, the fact he’s survived and also done as much as he has with so many, and sometimes even all, the cards stacked against him really is a testament to how clever the shitweasel is and how he can think and manipulate others quick on his feet.

And without spoiling things, nearing the end of season 2, the fact Megatron chose Starscream over another option tells me that Starscream is a lot more competent than he’s given credit for.

People underestimate him and he uses that to his advantage. But he’s retained second in command position for a long ass time and was a commander of seekers and out of the whole show he’s like... the only one who’s gotten anything permanently done on the con’s side so far.

Legit seems like he’s seriously dangerous when 2 conditions are met.

1. He’s not panicking and/or having his plans/reservations of a sitation ignored. Basically if he was able to have his judgement trusted (and yknow under the condition he was n’t trying to overthrow someone or was in a leadership position already.)

2. He’s not letting his preening get in the way. Megatron is guilty of letting his ego control him too the main difference to me why his team doesn’t see it as easily is Megatron has the physical presence to where his inability to reign in his ego and anger is seen as ‘ruthless’ and ‘intimidating’ whereas for Starscream where he doesn’t have the physical strength and presence he relies on wit and strategy (which is a far more respectable leadership trait might I say) he can’t quite fall back on the ‘if there’s a problem punch it harder’ method that Megatron does again and again. His failings seem so much worse as a result but arguably Megatron has fecked up so goddamn much worse and is so focused on escalating and quick victory instead of the bigger picture and just loves blaming his team for his own poor judgement.

Knockout: Uh Megatron maybe don’t stab the ship with dark energon when we know exactly jack-all about what it will do?

Megatron: You’re not my real dad *stabs ship*

Things: *Go terribly wrong*

Megatron: Ah yes time to yell at Knockout.

Somehow this turned into a TED talk that has 100% been said better a million times before I even joined the TFP scene of why Starscream could be an absolutely devastating leader of the decepticons if he wasn’t constantly backed into a corner, abused /in constant fear of Megs, and doubted/underestimated by his own team around every turn. (And if not for his own constant ego and shitweaselness of course. He’s still a major shitweasel it’s why I love him. He’s just a shitweasel with deadly potential. Like a ferret with a bazooka who is getting too excited about bragging about owning a bazooka and how much money it can get from selling said bazooka instead of the bazooka’s deadly potential if it waited for the perfect opportunity and knew how to use it properly.)

(Edit: Oh my god Starscream's excited little noise when Megatron said he would resume command in his absence was adorable djeheh. Megs 100% knows Starscream is a cunning fecker. He just can't let the team think he's more cunning and clever than himself. How sinister a way of maintaining leadership by keeping a smart asset and a good possible leader close but undermining him enough so no one else can see his potential.)

[adrrianraines]

can’t speak the language that you need • adrian x mc

sensory prompt #37: the tender ache when you press against bruises.   song inspiration: if i—ross copperman

disclaimer: i wanted angst in that controlled love interest scene. where is it??? where??? so here it is! here’s how i imagined it would have been!! deadass just kidding im crying

YOU STARED BLANKLY up ahead as you zoomed like a phantom of the night in the streets of new york. the sinister look of rheya mouthing confidently that she’ll see you again kept playing inside your head like a badly orchestrated taunt from a cliched horror flick villain on repeat in a broken dvd player.

your hands gripped the steering wheel tightly as the unsuspecting city lights finally came to view. the illuminations and shadows the buildings emanated, the chatter and laughter of citizens going about their day, oblivious and ignorant to everything that’s happening felt nothing short of like a punch in the gut. it was too much that whenever your mind reels back towards the incident, you can feel your chest tighten, stomach churning and bile forming, the raw taste flooding your mouth.

you felt faint. you loathed how the trepidation just won’t go away. you wanted to cry out your frustration for the dire turn of the situation, wanting to desperately pin the blame on someone for the all the anger, fear, hopelessness and disappointment. whenever you blink, vivid images flashes, making you remember how rheya controlled your friends and commanded them against their will—the look of blood lust aimed right at you as bright as a neon paint being splattered on an empty canvas.

then after the rage, you felt nothing but exhaustion, hurt and apprehension as one face particularly struck you the most: adrian.

torment only consumed you further as you came to the most painful realization above everything else:

adrian almost killed you. without hesitation nor remorse.

you recall how terrifying it was to look at the face who showed you nothing but kindness slowly turn to a monster out for your demise. you recall how you stared into his eyes and not recognize the person who owns it. how he looked empty and hallow, like a puppet following its master’s strings. you recall the loss of hope that left a bitter pang when you tried calling out to him, trying to reason with the adrian that you knew, only for it to turn into a futile attempt of puny redemption.

the feeling of panic was lingering, wrapping your well-being like a blanket of breeze on a cold winter night. you blink and you remember the murderous look on his face, the way he bared his fangs at you, the way his hands wrapped around your neck, the sheer desire and craving to hurt you—of wanting your death.

you swallowed hard, millions of thoughts running rampant all at once as you trained your eyes on the road, shoulders tense and shaking. you quickly glanced towards your friends, all worn out and certainly out of it. realizing you drove far enough to be followed, you make a turn towards a dark and decrepit alley, parking the car on a curb. with the look of things, it was ideal to stop and collect yourselves first before proceeding blindly.

when the engine of the car died, you let out a sigh you realized you’ve been holding. you jumped in surprise when you felt someone’s hand on your thigh, the sensation goading a pleasantly unwelcome electric tingle on your skin. you turn to see adrian looking at you with regret and worry, mouth opening and closing at the same time, unable to find the right words to say. the visible flinch you showed because of his touch only made him remove his hand as quickly as it came, as if he just touched a burning flame.

realizing that you can’t look at him directly without remembering his murderous trance, you moved to get out of the vehicle for fresh air. maybe, just maybe, distancing yourself for a bit might be the most ideal thing to do that moment.

with a heavy heart, you marched towards the opposite side of the street as you unconsciously looked for anything to lean on, gaze frantic and unfocused. your breathing hitches and wild flashbacks of the day you died came back to haunt. it was the same amount of fear, a similar sensation, and yet entirely different at the same time.

you barely noticed your surroundings when your legs gave out, your sudden loss of momentum causing you to wobble. the world seemed to stop when you didn’t feel the hard concrete but instead a pair of strong arms wrapped around you, preventing your fall by catching you before you even hit the ground.

a familiar, calming scent wafted your senses which clouded your better judgment. the alluring lull of fierce security felt like loose threads tying itself again. you let out a shaky breath, feeling weak and drained to even struggle against his hold. adrian steadies you in front of him, arms holding you tight, the warmth of his presence both inviting and alarming.

you avoided his gaze as he tries to catch yours, the desperation on his features unparalleled. he remained quiet, as if he’s trying to assess things first before speaking. however, it didn’t take long until he finally got the answer that he was looking for. his eyes trailed your movement when you unconsciously touched your neck, precisely at the part where you felt his vice grip slowly snatching the life out of you.

you grunted at the tender ache that you felt, and he notices it—rather, he sees it vividly, the very product of his weakness. it was like watching a mirror slowly fall down and break to tiny pieces, each glass shattering to a thousand more. you did nothing but watch at how the weight of realization knocked the winds out of his sails with sheer terror washing over his countenance. the sadness and desperation on his face then turned to guilt and rage—not to you, but to himself, to what he did, to what he couldn’t do and to what he realized he was capable of doing. adrian couldn’t believe the depth of violence he caused.

his arms falls flat to his side, going limp and useless. he immediately took a step back, all signs of hope drifting further faster than a raging waterfall. yet under the faint glow of the streetlights, he still looked divine. if this was a normal situation, you would have laughed at yourself with how you’re still capable of such thoughts. however, you can’t even find your voice to speak, let alone bring yourself close to him. you wanted to badly touch him, to comfort him, to tell him it’s going to be okay. but you knew you’d be lying. you froze in place, unable to move, unable to do anything—your own fear becoming the burden you’re carrying.

“adrian... please...” you croaked out, wincing at how your voice was shaking. he shifted to his feet so he can step closer, his unsure movements an indication of his inner battles. his hands hang dead in the air, trying to reach you with words left unsaid. but he stopped midway when you instinctively took a step back. you didn’t know why, or how, but your body just moved. it’s as if it was protecting you from harm, as if it was on instinct, as if it recognized adrian as a threat.

“i did that... didn’t i?” his voice was quiet yet certain. he locked gazes with you before his eyes roamed to your cheeks, your lips, your jaw... and finally, towards your neck. and it was then that you witnessed how this was breaking him as much as it was breaking you as well. your chest clenched at how devastated he looked, how resignation reigned in his features. the color of life finally draining from his orbs—as if all of his nightmares finally came to life.

it shatters you to see how tired adrian looked and how exhausted he seemed, as if his age has finally caught up with him. he looked exposed. lost. vulnerable. helpless. like an empty shell of a man who touched many wars and took many lives. a warrior who was finally drowning from all the sins he committed in his entire lifetime.

“do i still deserve it? your heart...” he pauses and shakes his head. he let out a bitter laugh as his voice proceeds to quiver, then immediately breaks. “no... i... don’t... not anymore.”

and for the first time ever since you’ve met him, he looked defeated.

suffer with me laid ease!! @isabella-choices @dadrianraines @violinet

[journeysintowebcomics]

Worm Liveblog #120

UPDATE 120: Hope

Last time the Travelers plus Cody managed to escape from the quarantine. Everyone has powers – well, Oliver kind of doesn’t – and it’s all fine and dandy while they drive to the next city. This peace lasts until the first signs something’s very wrong with Noelle show themselves. Let’s continue.

Looks like there was a time skip, because Trickster is now standing at a front desk. A receptionist for someone. Trickster feels the need to smoke, and although the receptionist says that’s a bad idea, he does so anyway. He’s at Boston right now, one year and three months have passed since their arrival to this world. That means by now they’re officially a team, hm...

You know, I wish I could have read any discussion they had to decide their names. That could have been interesting to read! But yeah, by now, they all have their names, I bet. Trickster does, after all.

How had Jess put it?  This world was sublime.  A world that was awesome in the truer sense of the word, greater in so many respects.  In a metaphorical sense, the peaks were higher, the valleys lower, works of art more artful, extremes more… extreme.  It wasn’t a good thing.  Make the mountains twice as tall and the chasms twice as deep, and things start crumbling.

Iiii don’t know if it’s really that worthy of admiration. I don’t think the entire world has as big of a mess as Brockton Bay does, but given entire islands have been obliterated, there are superpowered villains everywhere, and you don’t know when your life is going to be turned upside-down and most likely ruined, I sure would prefer a world like the Earth without parahumans. Besides, it’s not like the general population gets to enjoy the high technology and all that. Most of those are limited to the heroes and villains’ use. It doesn’t seem to me like any random person lives much different of a life than they would if there were no powers around. No, thanks, you keep your awesome world, I’m satisfied with mine.

The person Trickster came to meet is called Accord, and looks more like the kind of supervillain that tries to make things civilized and orderly for his own again. Like Coil, but less sinister. And less successful, since he’s not even the most influential villain in Boston. Accord shakes Trickster’s hand and asks for the reason for his visit. Well it turns out Trickster is here to reach some agreements and introduce himself, as it’s customary for him when he arrives at a new city. Gotta make sure you’re not stepping on anyone’s toes, you see.

Hah! He asks for permission before committing crimes. I doubt many villains are like Skitter in that they want to keep their communities orderly and with the least amount of trouble possible, but it’s good he’s being prudent. You don’t want to mess with villains.

“If I granted that permission, Trickster,” Accord raised a warning finger. “I would not be doing so for free.”

Trickster nodded.  “I understand, and I wouldn’t expect you to.  We’ve recently passed through Richmond, Paine, Baltimore and Philadelphia.  Each time, we paid a modest up front fee to anyone that hosted us in their territory.  We also offered up a twelve, thirteen, twelve and ten percent share, respectively, of our take.  For you, if you’ll allow me to make an opening offer, I’d suggest ten thousand dollars up front and a fourteen percent share of anything we gain.  We’ll be saying for ten days.”

And it turns out ten days is longer than they usually stay. Golly, that means they have been a very, very, veeery long time in Brockton Bay by now, that’s the most stable place of residence they have had. It’s because Coil can help them, I’m sure. But yeah, they’re on the move more often than I thought. Destructive Noelle or not, I thought it was like...a monthly thing. At this rate they’ll run out of places to be at in this country!

Trickster seems to be trying to be particularly flattering, offering Accord more money and being generally polite. Since he gets information before making a move, I suppose he was told he had to be as flattering as possible. Regardless, it’s working. Accord sees right through Trickster, but he’s accepting the offer, although with a warning not to scam him.

I’m not sure what Accord’s power is. There’s a lot of emphasis on things being rather orderly, but I’m uncertain if that’s an indication of what his superpower is, or if he’s just a very neat person.

Accord looked down and corrected the position of the pen on his desk before turning back to Trickster. “Fifteen thousand dollars, and fifteen percent of any take.  The heroes don’t have a strong presence here because they don’t need a strong presence here. I maintain the peace.  It will cost me if I have people here, active and causing trouble.”

Okay! Maybe he does keep the community safe to some extent. In that case, he should keep under wraps that he’s getting a share of the bounty from any stealing the Travelers do. Just in case. I’m sure there’d be people who would be very upset about that, even if they can do nothing about it.

Since the Travelers are here, Accord offers to forgo the fifteen thousand dollars from his fee and reduce his share, as long as they complete a job for him. Hey, Luke, there’s a job offer! The job is to steal tools from a tinker. Seems like Accord isn’t a tinker at all.

“Blasto.  A tinker.  Not quite the destructive personality his name implies.”

“I read up on him.  Blasto from the latin prefix, meaning bud, germination or seed.  Tinker botanist, grows walking, sentient plants in giant glass tubes.”

Not what I’d have imagined from that name, I admit. My knowledge of latin prefixes is quite lacking, turns out – and given I speak Spanish as my native language, that’s kind of sad. But, you know, if the intent is to steal tools and destroy this Blasto tinker’s stuff, Trickster and Sundancer is perfect for this. They should be done in no time! Which is why I suppose it won’t be that simple.

That said...I doubt it’ll get written. It’d be quite the side story! But it’d extend this origin interlude for maybe a tad too long. I’m not sure how well this all was received back when it was written, but I know I’d be kind of annoyed at a meandering interlude. Still...hey, Mr. Wildbow, how much do I have to donate for you to write how this went?

Not only he’ll forgo the entrance fee and reduce his share, he also will make costumes for the Travelers! Oh boy! Does that mean the costumes they’re all wearing in the present were designed by Accord? Didn’t expect that, honestly.

And you bring the world a little more in order, Trickster thought.  Accord was a thinker, and the running theory on his power was that he got naturally smarter as the problems he was addressing got more complex.  It gave him an intuitive understanding of groupthink, politics, and convoluted designs.  It also made him a local warlord capable of devastating counterattacks.  The power failed to grant him the same advantages in a one-on-one fight, and he wasn’t quite the same battlefield strategist when it came to direct assaults.

Which was, Trickster understood, why Accord wanted him and the other Travelers to handle the attack on their own.

Huh. That’s...a power. I’m not entirely sure how useful it is, I admit. It’s...a bit underwhelming, to some extent? But he has achieved some success, so I suppose he knows how to get use out of it. Maybe he’s like Tattletale. More like a mastermind type of person. Just that instead of finding out secrets like Tattletale does, he finds...solutions to problems.

Say, I just realized that when they attack Blasto there really are veeeery high chances it won’t go according to plan, thanks to a certain leader whose name I won’t reveal. He hasn’t been a particularly impressive force when it’s about attacking someone else’s lair. Personally I can’t let go of the Slaughterhouse Nine rescue, really.

Only four people will need costumes. Trickster himself, Sundancer, Ballistic...hm. Genesis wouldn’t need a costume because she does everything with her creations, Oliver wouldn’t want to be anywhere near a battle, so...Noelle or Cody.

Cody. The text pretty much says Noelle won’t get a costume. So this Cody person is still going with the group, one year later. He hasn’t gotten in the way of their return home. Say, how far in the past is this, I wonder? Could it be Cody’s...not-being-in-the-team is a more recent change than I thought?

The relatively pleasant discussion is interrupted when Sundancer bursts into the office, alarming Trickster, who had told her to stay back and not meddle. That she was disobeying and ruining Trickster’s carefully calculated meeting plan meant something was very, very wrong, and he should be worried. Hah! He’s got more immediate things to be worried about, right there! Accord isn’t happy at all with Sundancer.

Accord stepped over to the window behind his desk and stared outside.  Trickster waited patiently as the man composed himself.  Long seconds passed, and Trickster couldn’t help but imagine the worst case scenarios that would have Sundancer forgetting common sense and crashing a private meeting between supervillains.

I can only imagine it’s related to Noelle. Maybe she’s out there, causing immense amounts of havoc, in a sample of what will happen to Brockton Bay in the present. It’d be quite the way to establish how big of a Noelle threat is.

And there’s the immediate threat! Accord isn’t happy at all, and is already laying a series of demands. One: he’ll get the full amount of money he demanded. Okay then. Two: they’ll complete the mercenary job and receive nothing in exchange. It’s going to suck, but I guess it was to be expected. Three: Sundancer has to die. Beg your pardon?

Trickster tensed.  Really, really didn’t want to have to fight this guy. “Let’s… not be so hasty.”

Okay then! Accord just made the stakes go way higher. So, Sundancer is very obviously alive in the present, so as I see it, there’s only one possibility: Trickster killed Accord. I really doubt by now fleeing Boston is an option, and given how upset Accord is with the...imbalance Sundancer brought to his turf, I don’t think he’d accept something else in exchange of her life. Unless she proves to be absolutely stellar in the mercenary job. Who knows, maybe she burned Blasto’s lair to the ground and that saved her.

How to convince the lunatic to leave Sundancer alone?  If he couldn’t, would it be better to fight and kill Accord now or wait until he could recruit the others?  Accord wouldn’t have invited him to a meeting if he didn’t have some kind of safeguards. Traps?  For all Trickster knew, there was a pitfall in the floor or dart traps in the walls.  Accord’s power, his knack for complexity, would make it trivial to weave such things into the architecture of his home and office.  If he knew, he could use his power, time it to put Accord in the way of his own trap… but it could be something else entirely.

I meeeean...if he has the ability to make traps and safeguards, I’m certain making it so Trickster can’t use his power effectively to attack him would be easy as pie. Also, given how it was remarked Accord isn’t very good in one-on-one confrontations and is a warlord, I think it’s plausible he has a few people ready to act if things go pear-shaped. He wouldn’t rely on himself to ensure his own safety if he knows he wouldn’t be enough.

Accord was still talking.  “Others aren’t so accommodating.  They are freefalling, careening elements, bouncing off any and every surface, damaging everything they touch.  Pyrokinetics so often fall into this category, I’ve found. Rest assured, it’s better to eliminate this disordered element before it does too much damage.”

...suddenly I have a nagging feeling Sundancer burning Blasto’s plants and lair to the ground would make things worse in Accord’s eyes. Scrap that plan. New plan: lose your powers, and then get them back before you get to Brockton Bay. There, problem solved. I’m a problem solver now, Accord-lite, praise me.

Turns out Trickster does think of a possible alternative on how to handle this. He appeals to Accord’s sense of order, saying Sundancer is an agent of harmony despite her powers, and that she’ll prove it to him. Trickster has effectively placed the burden of proof right on Sundancer’s hands. Masterful leader move, pal, throwing the weight onto your subordinate and friend. But hey, she’s alive in Brockton Bay, meaning it worked, meaning I have no grounds to complain. Besides, he’s going to discuss it with Sundancer right now. I for one am looking forward to finding out what he intends to suggest she does.

Trickster gets ten minutes to male Sundancer go into Accord’s office – alone. As expected, Sundancer is taken aback by the fact her life is in danger just like that. I share Trickster’s opinion in that Sundancer wouldn’t ruin Trickster’s meeting if there wasn’t a very good reason, though...she even tried to bring it up immediately, and Trickster didn’t let her speak. At least he’ll get briefed by someone else.

When the timer hits zero, you’ll walk into his office, then you’ll perform a ballet routine.

Well! That’s not going to bring up any good memories, is it. Given how one of Sundancer’s memories was freezing and not being able to do a thing, in front of a public, I hope it won’t happen again. At least she won’t have the Simurgh showing her those awful memories over and over, but still...ouch, the things she has to do to survive.

 If he gives any sign he’s not satisfied, or the second you fuck up, set the place on fire and scram.”

“Krouse-”

“Call me Trickster when I’m in costume,” he corrected, his voice hard.  “Don’t worry about burning him alive.  He’ll have escape routes.

Oh, yeah, he’ll have escape routes. You know what else he’ll have? A desire to have both your heads on a plate, just saying. If he gets his office incinerated, there won’t be anything that’ll stop him from getting everyone he has to pursue the Travelers, I’m sure of it.

Since she has to go get ready and hopefully save her own life, Sundancer hurries inside, leaving Trickster to find out what problem is going on that made Sundancer risk ruining everything like that.

“It’s Cody.  He touched Noelle.”

Trickster froze.  “How bad is it?”

“Three times, Krouse.”

“Three,” Trickster said.  “Fuck me.  I’m on my way.”

Okay then! It was Cody’s fault. Not surprised he’s being a pain, really. He touched Noelle a total of three times, and that is...bad. For reasons I imagine I’ll find out very soon.

There’s no way Cody’s stupid enough to make contact with Noelle.

There’s no way anyone would do it three times.  How?

Hm. I don’t know what exactly are the consequences of touching Noelle, but given the fact it was three times, I doubt it was an accident. It happening once would give him the benefit of the doubt, it happening three times pretty much guarantees it was on purpose, unless it turns out there was a really contrived reason like...some parahuman slamming Cody onto Noelle three times or something. But seriously, what happens when you touch Noelle?

Apparently whatever’s happening is among a crowd, and Trickster searches while thinking how everything they have been doing recently is minimize damage. Well, given how they keep moving because of Noelle, I imagine she’s the source of the damage. Does this mean lately she’s been getting worse? More powerful, dangerous?

What Trickster encounters reminds me a lot of those very mutated monstrous humans that arrived with the Simurgh. It’s a very deformed person, attacking bystanders and being rather violent. This mutant’s nature is revealed right afterwards:

Three seconds later, the man snapped back into the same position, in front of the creature.  Perdition… Cody.  Except not quite.  The man carried through the shoving motion, but Perdition wasn’t there any more.

That’s Cody? Goodness gracious, what did he do?! Holy crap. What I note is that nowhere in the description Trickster gave of that thing attacking, he mentioned it looked like Cody at all. The extent of those tumor things on him and the twisted crooked factions must be such there isn’t much left of Cody. Noelle must have some sort of mutagenic quality, then. Perhaps she mutates those that make contact with her skin? Since that was what was fizzing and all that. And the more you touch her, the worse it gets. Cody touched her three times. Here’s the result, I suppose.

Innocent children are about to get attacked, and Trickster shouts to get Perdition’s attention. May as well exploit Perdition’s hatred of him! And it works, Perdition swivels around, looking for Trickster to do him some harm. Trickster keeps moving around to stay out of his sight while Perdition shouts slurred threats, accusing Trickster of having taken everything from him. Technically he did – except the part about ‘my girl’, because Noelle was never his – but it’s not like Trickster one day woke up and thought ‘oh you know what’d be a riot? Let’s ruin that Cody guy’s life’. Perdition is lashing out as usual, really.

Some of the time, the powers would be different.  Most of the time, going by precedent, they were stronger.  Trickster was left to wonder how Perdition’s powers had changed.  Duration?  Range?  The amount of time reversed?

Huh, that so? It could be the mutations are an attempt to enhance the powers of those who touch her, then? And it doesn’t work properly because she didn’t take the vial correctly. That doesn’t take into account the eye thing from last chapter’s ending, though...right now my thought about that is that maybe she’s not immune to her own mutations. It could even be that Perdition touching her made her even worse.

Perdition uses his powers to keep track of Trickster, getting him closer and closer to him to perform some murderin’. Trickster tries to stay away, although that soon leads to...well...casualties. There have been at least two so far. Damn. Trickster makes some calculations and tries to think of a plan on how to handle this.

What he does is hurry, swap himself with one of the casualties’ bodies, and shoot Perdition to death. Well! That was anticlimactic. I’m pretty sure if Perdition knew how simple that was, he’d be very upset. So this is why he’s not part of the team nowadays...not really how I expected him to die, although I did expect Trickster to be the one to kill him.

The next scene starts with Francis arriving to a place, where I suppose the rest of the Travelers are hiding. Oliver is already waiting for him, and the effects of his half of the power potion are shown: Oliver is handsome. Like, real handsome and smarter and also learns skills? He got lucky, then. If this is the extent of what his botched power has, then he’s incredibly lucky. But it’s still Oliver, so he’s as milquetoast and socially stunted as usual. Maybe forever, given how he’s...pretty much in a stranger’s body.

...

Maybe he wasn’t as lucky as I thought at first, when I think about it like that.

Fuck you, Simurgh, Krouse thought.  They’d all been forced to deal with their individual tragedies.  Noelle’s went without saying.  Jess hadn’t gotten to walk, Luke hadn’t gotten to fly, Oliver got a physical and mental overhaul without any fixes for the real problems, and Marissa had been thrust into the situation she’d fought so hard to escape, where she was forced to pursue a life she didn’t want.

Krouse’s tragedy was waiting for him inside.

Wow. Things are pretty bad for everyone here, but the way it’s worded Luke’s plight is so out of place. He didn’t get the power to fly. That sucks, but it certainly isn’t on anyone else’s level. Surely there must be something else about this situation that’s more fitting to bring up as Luke’s tragedy. Maybe that he’s very dissatisfied with being part of this group and feels they’re getting nowhere? That’s the impression I have of him in the present, after all.

Between Francis and Oliver they manage to drag Cody’s corpse to the living room, where there are...another two. Two more of Cody. Okay then! Looks like something’s going on. Does someone care to explain? One Cody is bad enough, the universe doesn’t need two more, hah!

Noelle is upset right now and it’s Francis’ duty to go calm her down. Before he goes he glances at the bodies.

They all stared at the bodies. This would be the third incident. Or incidents three through five, if he wanted to count it that way.

This can mean either this is the third incident where mutated people go and cause destruction, or this is the third time Cody has touched Noelle. Both are equally plausible, honestly – but I lean towards the former, because...then it would mean Noelle is causing some awful terror and destruction. Just like a Simurgh thrall would. Everyone else in the Travelers, taking her around the country, are doing their part as well.

There’s a lot of injured people and a few casualties because of the many Perditions. The...real Perdition? He’s somewhere inside the house. Nobody has found out what exactly happened, why Cody would touch Noelle three times despite presumably knowing really well what would happen. Francis will have to deal with this problem, since he’s the leader. First he goes to smoke for a while.

Sundancer has arrived! And she’s unharmed, thank goodness. Looks like her dancing routine in front of Accord went well, then! Or not, as she says two lines later. It satisfied Accord anyway, so may as well take that as a victory.

“No,” she said.  “He said I wasn’t perfect, but that he saw what you meant. He said I was trying, despite myself. I… I don’t know if that was a compliment or not.”

That’s definitely a compliment. If it wasn’t, then she wouldn’t be here alive, or at the very least there’d be mercenaries pursuing her. She must have done well – not being the agent of chaos and disorder Accord thought she’d be, despite her incendiary powers.

Since Mars has been declared not responsible for the incredible chaos from today, Accord wants Francis to bring the real cause. He decides he won’t be bringing Noelle – obviously not, because that’d be incredibly dangerous and, more importantly, there’s no way Francis would backstab Noelle. Instead, he decides he’ll take Cody. Hah! Well it’s pretty clear Cody isn’t harmonious at all, so...maybe that’ll work. It helps that those berserk things were literally him.

Mars isn’t into the ‘let’s blame Cody for everything’ plan because it’s very likely Cody will die, and Francis although isn’t happy about it either, sees no other option. Is he going to inform everyone else of his decision? Because I figure everybody would like to be aware one of their teammates is going to be murdered by a local villain, even if it’s Cody.

As Francis sees it, there’s only one scenario where Cody would be in contact with Noelle three times, and it is that Cody went to wherever she is, was a major dick like he usually is, and made her so upset she attacked him so badly Cody has broken limbs. An arm and a leg. Well those sure are two of the three contact spots!

“He had a goal in mind, only he didn’t anticipate how fast she moves, how strong she is.  He was trying to do one of two things.  Either he did something general, said something, with the aim of making her go berserk… or he tried to kill her.  One way or another, Cody wanted to end this.  End our mission.  Free himself.  He doesn’t give a fuck about the promise, so I don’t see why the promise should protect him.”

Cody was trying to kill her? I’m not sure about that. He has to know Noelle has some form of fast regeneration, meaning hurting her physically is a chore and almost unlikely to work. Also, he has to know touching her is a very bad idea. No, I’m leaning more towards thinking he was once again disparaging people around and trying to not be an outsider, and for some reason he was...talking with Noelle...and said something he shouldn’t have...and...okay this reasoning is kind of falling apart by the seams. Fucking Cody. What the hell was he planning?

Well at least Francis is going to talk to everyone else before taking a decision, he even is going to have a word with Cody to see if his suspicions have a reasonable base or not. That’s more than Cody usually gets, really – although I doubt he’ll appreciate it at all, what with Francis being the one to talk to him and what not. Oh well. Now that that’s...somewhat settled, Mars has the task of going to get a lot of food for Noelle. A lot of meat, in fact. Right, I kind of remember that was necessary. Geez.

Before she leaves, there’s something else to bring up!

“I almost forgot.  Accord.  He wanted me to pass this on.”

She handed him a piece of paper. There was a number printed on it. Different area code.

Holy crap, Mars, you can’t just forget something Accord asked you to do. You almost died today because you metaphorically stepped on the guy’s toes, and you were about to do it again. Goodness gracious...and the reason why she’s hesitant to even remember stuff Accord asks is because she doesn’t want to interact with guys like him. Hah! Boy will her time under Coil’s employment be a treat, then. Coil and Accord seem to be a rather similar kind of person, just that Coil is far more sinister in so many different ways – although I’m sure Accord has his own shady plans, of course.

Once Mars has left, Francis dials the number and gets in contact with whoever it is. Francis doesn’t seem to appreciate much having to call acquaintances of Accord. It’s only when this person says it’s a long-term job I have a hunch of who it is. That you, Coil? Will it turn out Accord and Coil do know each other? Hah! Well! I was saying they were kind of similar in terms of the way they work, but I never thought they knew each other.

“I know Accord through a mutual acquaintance.  Through this acquaintance and my own resources, I’ve gathered a fairly robust set of data on you Travelers.“

Intereeeesting. I think there’s a pretty good chance this acquaintance is the entirety of Cauldron. In that case, could it be Accord got his powers from Cauldron? Also, if they got information about them through Cauldron, then it means that big shady organization that gives powers is aware of the Travelers and how they got the powers. Oh boy! No indication Cauldron has sent superpowered thugs to take due revenge for the Travelers pretty much stealing powers, hmmmmm...could it be Cauldron is letting them do whatever they want, knowing they can use them later? It’d explain that, at least.

The person, who I’m absolutely certain is Coil, says he’s offering a solution to three things in exchange for them working for him. That’s enough to get Francis’ attention, he’s willing to listen. Make your offer, Coil!

I thought he was Luke Brito, not Luke Casseus. Either way, there are records of one Luke Casseus and one Noelle Meinhardt who were once in the hospital at the quarantine, and seem to have appeared out of nowhere. Most people would simply think those teenagers used fake names for some reason, but Coil has more information that indicates there’s something going on.

Also, Meinhardt is a cool last name. I like it a lot.

“Rest assured, Trickster, there is no need for any alarm.  The fact that I know these things is an asset to you.  A contact of mine in the PRT has taken over your case file and requisitioned all details on your encounter with Myrddin.  That case will not be pursued further.“

I suppose Myrddin gave all the information and control of that particular investigation and just…focused on the myriad of other things he has to deal with. I guess that makes sense, but I’d have thought the PRT would be far more attentive with investigations involving roaming Simurgh thralls. Coil and Cauldron’s influence is quite notable.

So, Coil has three solutions that will solve all of the Travelers’ problems. One is that Coil will offer all the money they need. Right, about that...since you’re offering, can you send them $15000 in cash, they need it kind of urgently.

The second solution is that he’ll send them home. Naturally, they wouldn’t work for him unless he made such an offer. The contacts he’s talking about are undoubtedly in Cauldron, more concretely the one who can make portals to reach Cauldron’s buildings. Given Coil’s...demeanor, I think he really would have fulfilled his end of the deal once he had taken over Brockton Bay, at least when it’s about sending them home. Unlike Dinah, there’s really no reason to keep the Travelers around, it’s not like they’re especially noteworthy as a team and other than Noelle their powers are nothing too remarkable. Who knows, though...maybe he’d have tried to keep Noelle, for one reason or another. Make clones of his soldiers or something to have a permanent source of non-powered mercenaries.

The last thing Coil offers is not said in the text, but I imagine it’s related to Noelle, since that was the other thing the Travelers were so worried about. They wouldn’t work for Coil unless he promised to fix her. Which is very...unlikely, really...but not impossible. If there’s someone who maybe could, it’s Cauldron. At a very, very, incredibly exorbitant price, I suppose, but they could. Don’t ask me how, though, because I don’t have the slightest idea. I’m not part of the group who sells bottled powers around.

Francis goes into the house, where Luke tries to get him to join them into a meeting about what they’ll do about Cody. The chance to explain they’re throwing him at Accord and hoping for the best! But nope, first he wants to talk to Noelle.

“After, Luke,” Krouse said.  He spun around, faced his friend. “I think we’ve got what we’re looking for.”

“What?”

“A way home.  Maybe even a fix for Noelle.”

Maybe a fix for Noelle, he says, meaning that even though that may be what Coil offered, he didn’t phrase it as a certainty at all. Merely a possibility. But...a possibility is the best they can get, really.

Promising to tell everyone else – sans Cody, I imagine – what the solution to all their problems is like, Noelle knocks to the door of Noelle’s room, where she immediately tells him to go away. Boy, even if she returns to normal, she won’t be anywhere close to Francis, I’m sure of that. It’s over between them, isn’t it?

Doesn’t take much to convince her to let him enter, so he does. The inside of the room is all broken, no word on if it was like that before Cody pissed her off.

“Come to talk?” she asked.  “Keep me company?”

“I was planning on doing it a little later. Things are kind of a mess out there, you know.  The Cody situation.”

“Nobody keeps me company any more. Only you.”

Ouch. Not even Mars? That must hurt. I had the impression Noelle was in good terms with pretty much everyone, that only Francis visits her...well, that really sucks. Is it perhaps because they’re afraid of touching her and making more of those deformed copies happen?

Noelle sure doesn’t try to deny Francis’ theory about Cody’s murder attempt, she instead says she can’t die. She has tried to end it. So yeah, she does have fast healing.

“I’m one of them.  Or I’m becoming that way.”

“Maybe.”

“An Endbringer.”

So that was the Simurgh’s plan? To create a...pseudoendbringer? Since they were never human in the first place, from what I was told ages ago, it’s unlikely Noelle will turn into one, but she’ll...be pretty close to one if things get worse, she fears. And apparently, given what she can do, it’s not an outlandish possibility.

“I’ll be just as bad as the Simurgh. In a different way.  I touch someone, and then I spit out copies. Uglier, stronger… meaner.  I can’t control them.  If I got my hands on one of the major heroes?  Someone like that Myrddin guy?”

It’ll be even worse if she gets her hands on many of the major heroes. Many evil copies of the major heroes roaming around and destroying everything would make things go downhill fast, that’s for sure.

You know, in general I’m against clones as a plot point, but I think this is fine. This is interesting!

Francis brings up that he talked with someone who maybe will be able to help them, and that they should give it a try because this person knows a person who has a way, who goes between worlds.

Aha, so this is how Coil got Francis aboard. He promised hope, not by promising to heal Noelle and send them all back to their worlds – but by promising to get them out of the Simurgh’s plans.

“No, listen.  The Simurgh?  This guy said she has a weakness.  Two ways where she can’t see the future.  Two ways to break free of her cause and effect.”

Noelle didn’t say anything.

“The first way, you’ve got to be basically immune to powers.  Scion is.  He’s immune to precognition, throws everything out the window when he shows up.  I saw it when he fought the Simurgh.  She couldn’t automatically dodge his stuff, because she either couldn’t read his mind or she couldn’t see the attacks before they happened.  So he hit her, a bunch of times.  I saw it.”

That supposed weakness isn’t going to lead anywhere, really. What is Coil going to do? Get Cauldron to fill the Travelers up with powers until they’re like Scion? Hardly. I don’t think it’d even be feasible because...I mean...having more than one power into you has to make some of them interact with each other in nasty ways, no? Taking half a vial is bad, taking two or more has to be bad too if you don’t know what you’re doing. No, the whatever this second way is like has to be what they’re looking for.

Also, that’d be hella expensive and not even Coil would be able to buy it, I’m sure.

Krouse was getting more excited, had to press his hand flat against the floor to stop it from shaking.  “And the other way?  There’s thinker powers that mess with her ability to influence events. If another precog gets a hand in events, the Simurgh automatically shuts them down and vice-versa.  The way this guy said it, the precogs get overloaded with the second-guessing the other precog, on top of having to figure out all the quantum possibilities and split paths.  And this guy?  He has a power that messes with precogs some, and the precog working for him has a power that will help circumvent the Simurgh’s power.  Get it?  So long as we work for him, we’re free of it.  No more cause and effect.  No more feeling like we’re doomed no matter what choice we make.  We go from that kind of safety to home.  To our world.“

I suppose this precog is supposed to be Dinah, because I can’t recall anyone else who has that kind of power and is under Coil’s employment – also, employment is definitely not the right word to use when it’s about Dinah, Coil, that’s imprisonment. Either way, if not Dinah, then...Tattletale is the closest one I can think, but she can’t foresee the future and I’m sure Coil knows that rather well. No, it has to be Dinah.

Which would give the Travelers a lot of encouragement to get in Skitter’s way, really. If Dinah is giving them the safety they need to not be destroying everything in their path, then of course they would disapprove of Skitter trying to free her. Still...do things really work like that? I don’t know, something’s off here.

I just find a bit hard to believe Dinah can singlehandedly stop the Simurgh’s cause and effect. Is there a ratio of effect or what? Does Dinah have to think of the Travelers? The details are a tad vague. I’m sure Mr. Wildbow thought the details well, so I’m not going to insult him by insinuating he didn’t think things through with that paragraph, but the amount of details given to me the reader right now is kind of lacking. I’m kind of leaning towards the possibility Coil is wrong about how this all works. Or he’s hiding something. This just...needs more building upon.

What follows to this is the reveal of what’s going on with Noelle. I had months to imagine what could be so bad it needed a vault and widespread panic, and this doesn’t disappoint. It’s worse than I expected. What can I say, I’m somewhat optimistic by nature, the worst case scenarios aren’t something I indulge into if I can avoid it, haha...ha...but yeah, this is nasty.

Around where her pelvis should have been, she’d changed.  The mass of tissue left her tall enough that she had to hunch over to avoid hitting her head on the ceiling, and she was lying down.  Half of it was angry, red, wrinkled or blistered.  The other half was smooth tissue, dark greens, dark brown and pale grays.  The head of an animal, half-bovine and half-canine, extended from the front, large as a horse from the back of its skull to the tip of its flaring nostrils.  Another head was in progress, emerging just to the left.  Two forelegs extended to either side of the heads, rippling with powerful muscle, ending in something that fell between claw and hoof, massive and easily capable of tearing through steel.

There were the fingers and thumb of a hand, extending from her right hindquarters, each digit thicker around than Krouse was, with another, smaller limb extending from the palm.  Her rear left hindquarters featured only a mess of tentacles, some bearing partial exoskeleton, some long enough that they had to encircle the massive head and numerous limbs, or wind in a wreath around her as she lay down, lest their coiled mass fill the master bedroom of the house and leave Krouse nowhere to sit.  Despite the apparent lack of bones, the tentacles were capable of supporting her weight.

It’s like she’s piling more and more tissue and forming...limbs. And a couple heads, for some reason? I’m morbidly curious if she can see through that head that’s already formed. Oh god. Here I am, trying to distract myself with banal thoughts like...how do the Travelers manage to move Noelle from city to city, do they steal a freight truck every time? Sorry, I’m thinking of all kinds of things to distract myself about how horrible it must be to be Noelle right now, augh

I can see why nobody else but Francis visits her, though. It must be hard to...to see Noelle and try to not focus on what’s going on with her. Not many would have the...bravery to face her and try to make small talk or anything. What would you even say if you went to see her? How uncomfortable, for both Noelle and someone else, would it be to sit around and try not to talk about the elephant in the room? This is a situation nobody is prepared to deal with. I can definitely understand why it’s easier to just...not go see her at all.

But damn that must feel very lonely for Noelle.

She’d tried to starve herself, to die of thirst.  It had turned out badly.  She’d gone berserk and killed forty people in one autumn night.  Their tissues had played a large part in building the massive fingers and thumb that extended behind her.

Welp! The Simurgh really knew what she was doing. That’s all I have to say. Well played.

And so that’s how the Travelers started working under Coil. Because they were given hope. And nooooow that hope is gone. Here is the present time now, where Coil is dead. No wonder Noelle went berserk and escaped the vault. Where could she have gone...? Where could she be hiding? Because...if she was destroying anything, they would have heard about it even before they saw the broken vault.

But it still can happen. In the very near future. The rage of Noelle.

He had no doubt as to who had died here.  Could remember the scene as it had been just before he’d been knocked unconscious, could remember where people had been standing.

Another wave crashed against the beach.  He heard the seagulls cawing angrily, wanting the morsels that littered the ground in front of him.

Krouse spent a very long time staring at the stain.

This must be the end for this interlude arc. It’s quite the ending, pretty poignant. A quick check on the next chapter link shows that yeah, a new arc is starting next time.

So yeah, that’s it. The Travelers’ arc is over. Must say, this may be one of my favorite arcs so far. It sure makes a few things seem different than before. I appreciated the extensive peek into the circumstances of the Travelers and everything they went through. They’re quite a tragic group, really. In one single day they went from just a normal gaming team to a superpowered bunch without a home and having to lug around someone who is...slowly and horrifically mutating into a mess of flesh that creates mutant copies of people. Pretty amazing they all have held onto their sanity, really.

I’m sure the next arc – which I suppose will be about possibly finding and fighting Noelle – will be quite a thing! I’m looking forward to that.

Next time.

Next time: in three updates

[marginalgloss]

a dream of north

I don’t recall exactly when I first read Northern Lights by Philip Pullman. It must have been in the late 1990s, since I’m fairly sure it was after the release of the sequel, but definitely before The Amber Spyglass came out. (I was very excited for that one.) I would guess I was no more than twelve or thirteen. It seems a little odd now to think that initially these were promoted as books for young people. My edition was published by Point, the Scholastic imprint best known for pulpy teen horror fiction; in a bookshop today you are more likely to find a new edition of one of Pullman’s novels dressed up in handsome pastel colours, with a more ‘artisanal’ cover style. Which is fine, and well-deserved. But my copy is the same one I read more than twenty years ago; I know this because it is missing the top-right corner of the last thirty pages or so, having once been lovingly chewed by a late lamented family dog.

Northern Lights is not a long book, and in many ways it feels like a quick sketch of a fast-moving story, one which is touches lightly on the world in which it depicts. By the standards of genre fantasy or science fiction, there isn’t a lot of detail here. We follow Lyra, a young girl growing up in an alternate Oxford — it might be some time in the late nineteenth or early twentieth century, by our standards. Through a combination of accident and concealed design, Lyra is drawn into a conspiracy that involves two aspects: an expedition to the distant arctic in search of a mysterious particle called ‘Dust’, and a conspiracy to kidnap children and transport them to this same far northern region. What follows is an adventure in pursuit of Lord Asriel, a man Lyra believes to be her uncle, while alternately monitored and pursued by a sinister rich woman called Mrs Coulter. This race to the frozen North forms pretty much all of the main body of the book.

For the most part it rolls along at a storytelling pace: one thing happens, then the next, then the next. It really does have the rhythm of a story one might tell out loud to children, over many bedtimes. (Consider the frequent asides about what Lyra must eat, and where she sleeps — so often a chapter will end with her curling up to sleep in some sheltered corner of a forsaken place.) It doesn’t come across as overly considered. With a few exceptions, the book doesn’t often slow down to explain itself. If a reader were so inclined I’m sure it would be possible to poke holes all kinds of holes in the plot. Even by the end of the novel I didn’t feel entirely sure what Dust was, nor did I really understand what the antagonists were trying to do with it. Are they trying to destroy it, or to control it? And some of it seems whimsical, in the best possible sense. Want a Texan cowboy with his own gas-powered balloon and a talking bear for a best friend? Why not? It’s fun. It may be whimsical but that isn’t to suggest it’s frivolous; the author’s imagination comes from a place of experience, from deep reading. It’s a world that fascinates, even as it seems to resist scrutiny. 

Something else which surprised me on returning to this book was the near absence of any explicit references to organised religion. There are mentions of something called the Magisterium, but it’s far from clear what their role is in the story, while a passing mention of ‘Pope John Calvin’ seems like a sort of gentle joke for older readers. This seems significant because at a certain point after the final book in this series was released, public discussion of Philip Pullman’s work became centred around his attitude to organised religion. By then a new populist atheism was having a kind of resurgence — people were talking about ‘the New Humanism’ or ‘New Atheism’ as if it were something to be excited about. Pullman would be loosely associated with this movement, insofar as his books could be championed by people who might proactively define themselves as atheists. 

But to the best of my knowledge, his statements on these matters have been altogether more measured, and less definitive. I’m curious now to revisit the later novels and consider the extent to which they really have much to do with atheism at all. It’s been a while, but it always seemed to me that the atheist reading was worth unpicking from the anti-religious impulse in these novels. There is a certain amount of what you might call ‘fantasy spectacle through hard science’ in Northern Lights — the many-worlds theory, the vague invocations of particle physics, all of which was so excitedly summarised by the New Atheism as the ‘wonder’ of the universe — and yet I’m not sure the novels are altogether so content to settle on a purely materialistic view of reality.

The big idea of Northern Lights is in the daemons. They are a beautiful idea, and the book’s story could easily be read as one long pursuit of this idea. What if every person was born with an animal companion which represented — no, which actually was — an indivisible part of their being? As if we all had another organ of personality, like a second brain or a second ‘heart’, linked to our bodies by an invisible thread. The notion has the genius quality of immediate appeal to all ages. Children (and many adults) love the idea of a permanent animal companion, while older readers may appreciate the associated philosophical concepts: the shadow self, or psychological anima; or just the little angel/devil on our shoulder. 

Perhaps the existence of the daemons a kind of heresy, as much as it implies that each person’s soul (for want of a better word) belongs essentially to themselves. There are no refunds, and a daemon is not subject to exchange; a daemon is not the property of some other high power, gifted at birth and reclaimed at death; they might not even be properly said to belong to their ‘owner’, any more than their person-companion belongs to them. Still, in spiritual terms this might be characterised as a problem of accounting rather than of blasphemy. There is a lovely image presented early on of the crypts under one of the Oxford colleges, where great people are buried alongside precious tokens depicting the forms of their daemons. Even in death they belong to one another, though the account into which they have been deposited remains a mystery.

After the reader is introduced to the associated rituals and taboos, it is the pain of separation from one’s daemon that becomes a sort of leitmotif in this book. All this is expressed incredibly well — the sense of separation anxiety is perhaps the most memorable aspect of the whole story. It is unpleasant for one’s daemon to be handled by another person, and it is literal agony to be separated from it by more than a very short distance, and so when the reader discovers that children are being severed from their daemons it seems like an uniquely agonising kind of cruelty. 

The allegories for this ‘cut’ are more explicit than I remember. At times it is directly compared to castration or genital mutilation. Lobotomy might be another comparison. The procedure seems to have a uniquely devastating effect on children — it seems that adults have undergone it without such dramatic effects — but as with much in this book, that much is never explained. Again, it’s unclear why the procedure is happening at all. Nobody seems to be gaining anything by it. It is like one of those pointless bleak cruelties we find in Roald Dahl. It’s something to do with Dust, we’re told, and it is dependent on the unique relationship that children have with their daemons before they reach puberty. But that it is hard to rationalise is, I think, part of the point. 

Hanging over it all is the horror of institutionalised abuse. It is the kind of abuse that needs no justification, any more than senseless vivisection does. It is merely the pulling apart of a thing to see how it works – for the cutter, the gratuity is its own reward. Perhaps in so far as we can find any meaning in it, it’s in the idea that growing up needn’t involve a sort of deliberate caustic severing of whatever it was that made us childlike in the first place. We may not need to put away childish things, and we certainly don’t need them to be torn from us. Perhaps growing up should be less like a departure from ourselves and more like a process of reification, in which something that was latent all along only becomes settled and manifest with the passing of time. 

[smokeybrand]

Zodiac Age

It’s no secret that i am a massive fan of the Final Fantasy series. Essays abut that franchise riddle this blog. My adoration for their world building and storytelling is profound, even is they kind of devolve into a Star Wars-esque retelling at time. Square sure does love that Hero Journey literary trope. Things like that don’t bug me because there are little unique changes to that specific plot, little dashes of creativity that take the form of setting, characters, or overall plot. It might follow the trope in the sense of character development, but the story told to get there is wholly it’s own. And let me tell you, some of these stories are the best that’s ever been told.

Final Fantasy VII is my favorite of the entire series. Great characters, vivid world, and a plot simple enough to follow but embellished to near mythic levels. Final Fantasy IX is another favorite, though, that one is more a fairy tale than anything. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a goddamn masterpiece and epic in it’s own right, but that story is more than at home with those old Grimm tales we were told as kids. It’s mad endearing that way. Final Fantasy Tactics, spin-off title, is probably the best story, overall, told under the FF banner and it’s not even a main title. The War of Lions is a tale of political intrigue, familial bonds, and devastating betrayal sprinkled with magic and demons and summons and dragons. It’s f*cking incredible and can give Game  of Thrones a run for it’s money. I imagine, in time, i’ll revisit these stories and gush about why i love them so but that’s not what this essay is about. No, this essay is about the second best narrative in the entire FF franchise; A narrative that has been written off because people couldn’t get passed the gameplay. This essay is about my fourth favorite Final Fantasy title, Final Fantasy XII

The strongest part of this game is easily the story. It starts with a wedding. A beautiful affair between two nations to solidify a peaceful relation and treaty of prosperity but that bliss would not last. War, a bloody coupe, the death of a prince, and the betrayal of a king. All of this happens in the intro to the game. As you play, you take the perspective of a common street rat. You follow along with his misadventures, exploring the oasis city of Rabanastre withing the annexed kingdom of Dalmasca. During his various excursions, Vaan finds himself entwined with the charismatic sky pirate and main character, Balthier, as well as his longtime Viera companion, Fran. After a heist gone wrong, the group find themselves thrown into the same lot as the presumed dead princess of Dlamasca, Ashelia B'Nargin Dalmasca, and the man framed for murdering her father, Basch Fon Ronsenburg. The party is eventually completed by the final addition of Vaan’s childhood friend, Penelo. What starts as a tale of rebellion and unrest, evolves into something so much more. The dismantling of the current world system, the shattering of chains binding man to malevolent gods, wresting control of human destiny back into human hands, and a destiny laid forth by a visionary painted as a tyrant.

Final Fantasy XII is a grand epic that feels very intimate, very small. You’re never far from the characters or their plight. Indeed, it’s their development and relationships that drive this story. Political intrigue and human destiny aside, the interactions between these individuals are absolutely wonderful. Vaan is a chump but, having played this game several times and looking back on this story with the eyes of an adult who appreciates great storytelling, his blank personality is necessary. He’s the vehicle the audience uses to immerse themselves in this world. He’s our allegory so ll that bland that colors him is simple place holder. an is who we make him. On the other end of that spectrum, you have the “villain” Vayne Carudas Solidor. Vayne is easily one of the best written characters in the entire franchise. His characterization and development can give Delita from Tactics and Ardyn Izunia from XV. Holy sh*t, Ardyn is magnificent. I can write an entire essay on him, alone, but that’s one for later. Maybe. XII is one of the best written of all the FF titles but Vayne, specifically, is written on an entirely different level. There’s never a time when you do not understand his motivation. There is never a time where you do not agree with his logic. There is never a time when you condemn his deeds. They are all necessary for the ultimate goal of human prosperity. Vayne is the antagonist of this story because of circumstance and he understands that better than anyone. He even prepared for that eventuality with his brother, Larsa. Even in defeat, he still wins; A victory for all that cost him everything. F*cking brilliant writing, man. Brilliant.

The world of Final Fantasy XII is absolutely gorgeous. It takes place in Ivalice, the only recurring setting in the FF franchise. It’s a staple, like Chocobos or Moogles. Vagrant Story and the Tactics games all take place here, to varying capacities. I love how meaty the lore and systems are for this universe. The Judge system permeates almost every title taking place here and they are to be heeded. Ranging from consequences of battle to outright characters in the narrative, these judges often have ornate armors and insane strength. Gabranth, the main Judge of XII, serves a rather dubious role throughout this tale. He and his contemporary, Cidolfus Demen Bunansa, the Cid of this game and father of Blathier, work together with Vayne to further his ambitions. Chasing their wake leads our team all over Ivalcie, visiting Ordalia, Valdenia, Kerwon, and Purvma. We follow Fran home to the Salikawood and hunt some powerful monsters in the rolling dunes of the Giza Plains. This world is gorgeously realized with loving passion and gentle renders. It really is a feast for the eyes.

Now, the reason everyone passes on this particular title lies in the fact that the gameplay doesn’t feel like an FF title. In that regard, the discourse is correct. XII does not play like a traditional Final Fantasy title. It skews closer to their MMO titles rather than their offline fair. It can be difficult to learn but is it really so different than what you’re used to? Is it really so alien? XII does a pretty decent job teaching you how to manage your party. Admittedly, yo can’t directly control what everyone does at every second but all titles in this franchise are kind of like this. I can see how that aspect can be disorientating wit the pseudo-action RPG aesthetic. That’s why there are Gambits. These things are little predetermined commands that allow you to program your party while you handle the heavy lifting on wither offense, defense, or support. It’s kind of like the system they use in FFXIII but, you know, good. You still play XII. You still have the ability to control your characters, in a limited capacity. Sure, i would have liked to have more direct command over my party but this workaround is fine once you get used to it. Besides, i think they fixed this in the international Zodiac version or whatever. I haven’t played that one yet but what we have in the vanilla game, the License Board, Tecnicks, Magicks, Quickenings, and Espers, all add a variety that gives you copious amounts of strategy. Building a character strong enough to trust to the Gambit system has it’s own reward.

Final Fantasy XII is an outstanding title that deserves so much more respect than anyone gives it. Your requisite hitters like IX and VII are rightfully mentioned in a much greater capacity but lesser titles like X and VIII have no business holding their position in the fandom zeitgeist in lieu of XII. This game has one of the most epic stories, a brisk plot rarely marred down by melodrama, one of the greatest villains in the entire franchise, and it’s absolutely gorgeous. The world is lush, full of life and vibrancy, hiding a sinister undertone that grips your attention until the very end. If you can manage the learning curve of the battle system, if you give it a chance, you’ll be rewarded with one of the all-time great games in the Final Fantasy pantheon.

[chasingthecosmos]

Three Hearts to Own

Fandom: Doctor Who Rating: G Pairing: The Doctor/Rose Tyler, Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Chapters: 1/10 Read on AO3 here.

A (sort of) season re-write centering around the Doctor's touch telepathy and the many ways that it makes his life difficult while he attempts to move on from the loss of Rose Tyler. This work is based around Seasons 3 & 4 and the Tenth Doctor. It's the final entry in the "A Hand to Hold" series, but it can also be read as a stand-alone. The first four or five chapters will just be short excerpts from the Doctor's time away from Rose, but there will be a Journey's End fix-it and a happily ever after at the end. Tags will be updated as I go. Chapters will vary in length.

Chapter One: Martha (Part One)

---------- The Runaway Bride ----------

Life without Rose was surprisingly simple - or perhaps simple wasn't the right word. Maybe numb non-acceptance would be a more apt description.

The Doctor had exactly thirty-six seconds to wallow in silent self-pity before a new glorious, much-needed distraction came in the form of a feisty red-headed human dressed in a long, white wedding dress. She introduced herself as Donna, and even though she asked far too many questions about the Doctor's recent, crushing loss, he was surprised to find that he quite enjoyed her company. Even when she was yelling at him and calling him rude names, it was better than the overwhelming silence that had reigned inside of the Doctor's head for those first agonizing thirty-six seconds.

Having a new partner at his side who looked and acted nothing at all like Rose was a strange new shift, but one that he welcomed nonetheless. The Doctor didn't think he could go back to being alone the way that he had been before Rose - that road was madness. But if he was going to start chaperoning companions again, then he knew that he needed a change - someone who wouldn't constantly be reminding him of the woman who he had loved and lost.

He found that he was being more cautious than ever as he carefully put up every mental shield that he could possibly think of before he took Donna's hand in his and slipped the bio-damper onto her finger in an attempt to keep her safe. He had never before wished so desperately that his species wasn't so telepathically enabled. The Doctor refused to risk even the slightest bit of connection with another sentient being right now - not when his own mind and hearts were still so shattered and aching.

He felt an overwhelming amount of sympathy for the brash, over-confident Donna when she suddenly discovered that her picturesque, idyllic wedding was nothing more than a ruse - an attempt to use her for the nefarious purpose of yet another alien invasion. The Doctor knew that he should have felt more remorse for drowning the Empress of the Racnoss and her children and putting an end to an entire species - however sinister they might have been - but as he stood over the empty ravine left behind by the river Thames, he couldn't quite seem to make himself feel anything more than that same grim, numb purpose that was quickly solidifying around his hearts and erasing all of that gray moral space that he had been operating in for centuries.

He took Donna back home afterwards, but he couldn't force himself to leave without asking first - without at least extending the offer for her to run away from her life and to help keep him distracted for just a little bit longer. She refused, just as she should have, but that didn't mean that it didn't hurt twice as much when the Doctor returned back to his empty TARDIS alone.

She offered him Christmas dinner before he left, but the Doctor knew immediately that such a request was completely outside of the question. There were simply too many memories - too many reminders of pink cracker crowns and holding hands in the snow and Christmas dinner with the family that he would never be able to visit again.

So instead, he did the one thing that Donna refused to do - he ran, and he didn't once look back.

center---------- Smith and Jones ----------

After that, the Doctor's life quickly unraveled into a meaningless, colorless blur. He smiled because it was easier than crying. He made jokes with the individuals who he crossed paths with because it was kinder than yelling at them. He saved innocent people from evil because it was the right thing to do - but all the while he felt nothing but a numb, burning ache in all of the places that he knew that Rose should be occupying.

Thankfully, a new distraction came to him in the form of a young woman named Martha Jones. The Doctor liked her almost immediately - she was kind and clever and kept up with him as easily as though she had been doing it all her life. The two of them fell quickly into an easy rhythm with one another - a fact that both concerned and excited the Doctor.

Martha made him believe that maybe finding a replacement for Rose wouldn't be such a hopeless endeavor after all. She made him think that maybe he didn't have to be alone anymore. She gave him hope that maybe he could finally move on and leave his dreams of pink and yellow behind ...

He could feel Martha's interest in him when he went against his better judgement and kissed her in order to get the genetic transfer that he needed in order to save the innocent lives of all of the people that the judoon had transported to the moon. Even with all of his mental barriers up in an attempt to shield his telepathic abilities as much as possible, her sharp spike of attraction and desire hummed against the sensitive skin of the Doctor's lips and quickly reminded him that there were other options - he didn't have to be heartbroken and alone forever if he didn't want to. There were plenty of other women out there in the universe who were no doubt just as clever and brilliant and beautiful as his Rose.

However, the Doctor didn't want any of those other women - he only wanted the one, and she was trapped away in a universe that he couldn't ever reach.

The Doctor still went back for Martha, though. Even after the world was safe again and she had returned back to her family and her normal life, the Doctor still couldn't leave well enough alone - instead deciding to show off with cheap tricks and slight-of-hand in order to entice her into his old time ship. Unlike with Donna, it was an offer that Martha couldn't refuse, and he knew without her having to tell him that she was coming along.

"Where is everyone?" she asked suspiciously as she finally stepped aboard the TARDIS and glanced around at the expansive console room with wide, shocked eyes.

"Just me," the Doctor stated plainly, already setting their destination for some place that he thought she might enjoy. He didn't give her a choice for her first trip like he had with Rose. He couldn't risk Martha choosing some place that held too many painful memories.

"All on your own?" she insisted curiously.

"Well, sometimes I have ... guests - I mean, some friends, traveling alongside me," he explained haltingly, hating the way that his mouth still seemed to have a tendency to run away without his conscious permission. "I had ... It was recently ... a friend of mine. Rose, her name was - Rose. And ... we were together ..." Her name on his lips after so long without her was like a balm to his wounded hearts that both stung and soothed him at the same time.

"Where is she now?" Martha asked quietly, her dark eyes seeming to see straight through him.

"With her family, happy. She's fine," the Doctor muttered dismissively, forcing himself to meet her gaze so that he could prove to her (and, more importantly, to himself) that he wasn't lying. "Not that you're replacing her!" he added quickly, pointing a condemning finger in the young woman's face instead of directing the blame at himself where it really belonged.

"Never said I was," Martha replied with a small, teasing smile.

"Just one trip, to say thanks!" the Doctor continued insistently. "You get one trip, then back home! I'd rather be on my own."

Martha's smile faded as she watched him, and the Doctor suspected that he wasn't fooling either of them with his bitter, desperate lie. Thankfully, all of time and space was at their disposal, and he was able to dodge the rest of her flirtatious banter as he always did by busying himself with the TARDIS controls.

Still, the Doctor couldn't seem to shake the feeling that he was making a very big mistake in bringing Martha aboard - but he also couldn't deny the fact that he was tired of being alone, and he ran headlong into the bad decision anyway. He simply had to trust that he would be able to find some way to work everything out before it all fell apart around him.

---------- The Shakespeare Code ----------

Meeting Shakespeare was a laugh, and even running into the carrionites was exciting, but spending the night in a medieval inn with Martha ended up being the most dangerous part of their first trip out in the TARDIS. The bed that they had to share was small, and the Doctor turned towards her to stare deep into Martha's eyes as though he could somehow will her into being the blonde-haired, brown-eyed face that he most longed to see. He barely dared to blink as he stared hard at Martha's features in fear that if he closed his eyes for even a second, his own imagination and traitorous hearts would take over and convince him that the longing that he felt burning against his skin was coming from a different woman.

Later on, the Doctor was forced to lower his mental shields so that he could communicate telepathically with the architect of the Globe Theatre in order to find answers about what was going on, but that left him weak and vulnerable when one of the carrionite sisters suddenly descended upon them and began to use her words to devastating effect.

"The naming won't work on me," the Doctor warned the woman dangerously as she smirked down at him with an air of cool confidence.

"But your heart grows cold," she murmured in mock sympathy. "The north wind blows and carries down the distant ... Rose."

The name stung, just as the carrionite had intended it to, but instead of further wounding the Doctor, it only managed to fill him with a deep, burning rage.

He ended up being as merciless with the carrionites as he had been with the racnoss - sending them all back into their strange crystal ball where they could scream and rage into eternity with no hope of ever being released. The Doctor had once described himself as a man of "no second chances". He found that without Rose there to hold him to a better standard, he was certainly living up to the description.

---------- Gridlock ----------

They went to New Earth next because the Doctor was an old, weak fool and he thought that maybe he just might be able to hold on to Rose by visiting the places where they had traveled to before. He was wrong, of course - not only did he and Martha end up landing in the middle of a planet-wide bio-disaster, but when they finally did manage to make it up to the city, the clear sky and the smell of apple grass did nothing but sting the Doctor's already bruised and battered hearts.

Martha made him explain, of course, once it was all said and done. She was good at that - making him answer for himself. The Doctor thought that it was probably a good thing, but at the moment, he was too hurt to acknowledge the healing process.

"But what did he mean, the Face of Boe - 'you're not alone'?" Martha asked quietly.

The Doctor tried to dodge the question, but Martha really was too clever for her own good. "I lied to you," he finally admitted quietly, hating the way that his empty tone rang off of the dirty walls of the surrounding slums, "because I liked it. I could pretend. Just for a bit, I could imagine they were still alive, underneath a burnt orange sky. I'm not just a Time Lord - I'm the last of the Time Lords. The Face of Boe was wrong, there's no one else."

Rose had asked him once if he was sure. Martha only wanted to know what had happened. The Doctor forced himself to tell her - to relive the memories, both good and bad - in grim repentance of all that he had done. The old images of Gallifrey in his mind still burned like they always did, but there was a new empty ache in the place where his people were meant to be - an ache that only the presence of a bondmate could ever soothe. The Doctor didn't tell Martha about that part, though - he just let it sit and fester for another day. After all, it was the least of what he deserved.

---------- Daleks in Manhattan & Evolution of the Daleks ----------

He took her to New York next - the proper, Earth one this time, though the TARDIS happened to land them a few decades shy of the present. The longer he carted Martha around, the harder it was getting for the Doctor to ignore the blatant way that she looked at him, and for the first time in his many lives, he was almost ironically grateful for the distraction of a dalek invasion that wedged its way between them.

However, it was the first time that the Doctor had seen the elusive Cult of Skaro since the Battle of Canary Wharf, and their sudden reappearance now did nothing to ease his troubled mind.

Leaving Tallulah and Lazlow behind in a turbulent time and place where even half-human hybrids could live out their lives and go largely unnoticed did spark something in the Doctor, though ... It was an idea, as crazy and impossible as the strange couple themselves.

He wondered curiously if they really could do it - could they live a life of contentment together despite their many trials and differences? Could they really make a happily ever after out of the strange cards that the universe had dealt them?

The love that the Doctor saw in their eyes gave him a surprising amount of hope - another thing that he hadn't encountered since Canary Wharf - and when he and Martha eventually stepped back onto the TARDIS again, he continued his current trend and didn't give her any input at all as he determinedly set their destination towards modern-day London to take her home.

---------- The Lazarus Experiment ----------

"Where are we?" Martha asked as soon as they'd landed, glancing up at him with that eager, expectant look that he had come to recognize from many of his companions over the centuries.

"The end of the line," the Doctor answered cryptically, giving her nothing more than a pointed look as he waited for her to take the initiative to open the doors and see for herself.

Martha, unsurprisingly, wasn't pleased to see that he had brought her back home, just about twelve hours after they had left (he was certain that he had gotten the timing right this time - one good slap from Jackie Tyler had gone a long way in teaching the Doctor his lesson, it seemed). However, he spared very little sympathy for the shocked, hurt look in Martha's eyes as he let the TARDIS doors fall closed between them and prepared to carry out his plan to leave her to her normal, human life back on Earth.

The Doctor had more than fulfilled his promise of "one trip", after all, and he knew that the longer that Martha stayed on the TARDIS, the more awkward things would become when he inevitably had to turn down her increasingly bold flirtations. However, the strange and impossible Professor Lazarus had caught the Doctor's attention quite against his will, and Martha had a direct family connection to him, so it only seemed prudent to bring her along while he did a little bit of investigating.

The Doctor realized his mistake as soon as Martha announced that the event that they would be attending was "black tie required", which all but guaranteed that she would be watching him appraisingly out of the corner of her eye for the entirety of the night while she, herself, wore a dress that exposed far more skin than normal.

However, eyeing Martha's knee-length flowing skirt and heels only served to remind the Doctor of what a fool he had been when he had forced Rose into a maid's uniform back in Pete's World instead of allowing her to dress up as she had desired. Over nine-hundred-years-old and he was still just a daft old idiot who never knew how good he had it until the opportunity was gone and lost forever.

The Doctor made a pointed effort to keep his hands tucked firmly into his pockets throughout the entirety of the event - becoming even more cautious after he was introduced to Martha's family and her eagle-eyed, suspicious mother. However, when Lazarus's experiment eventually went wrong, as it was always going to do, the Doctor suddenly found himself crammed into a tiny capsule that didn't really allow for much modesty between him and Martha at all. Every single one of his telepathic abilities was crying out against the forced closeness, and it took all of the Doctor's (admittedly limited) self-control to keep himself from fleeing from the capsule and running straight into the jaws of the monster waiting for them outside.

However, when it came down to it, the Doctor was still nothing more than a weak, old fool, and when the night was over, he still asked Martha back for one more trip on the TARDIS. He was shocked into dumbfounded silence when she quietly refused him - he was certain of the lingering glances that she had been passing him all night, and he knew that he hadn't misinterpreted her anger when he had tried to leave her behind earlier.

"I can't go on like this - 'one more trip', it's not fair!" Martha clarified heatedly.

"What are you talking about?" the Doctor asked in confusion.

"Well, I don't want to be just a passenger anymore - someone you take along for a treat!" she insisted desperately. "If that's how you still see me, I'd rather stay here."

The Doctor felt a twinge of guilt as he stared at Martha's back and silently cursed himself for being such a useless, sentimental old man. He knew that he should leave her behind - he really, really should - but he just couldn't. He needed the company, he needed Martha's lingering glances and adoring looks, he needed to feel as though he meant something to someone, somewhere. And so he relented, just as he always knew that he would.

"Oh, thank you! Thank you!" Martha cried excitedly as she ran up to him and eagerly threw her arms around his neck in gratitude. The Doctor held his breath as he willingly hugged her back, craving the physical affection she so easily offered, but knowing that he would only be disappointed when he was met with a smell that was not Rose's familiar shampoo.

"Well, you were never really just a passenger, were you?" he muttered as he graciously allowed Martha to step into the TARDIS before him.

She flashed him a wide, hopeful grin over her shoulder as she skipped eagerly into the console room and the Doctor just knew that the mouth on this body was going to get him into trouble in one way or another. He could only hope that Martha truly was as clever as she appeared - maybe she would be able to see through his brash, confident exterior to the wounded, ugly thing that lay beneath. Maybe then she would stop looking at him with such adoration in her eyes and finally run away from him as she should.

[masterserris]

FUNERAL FOR A MAGICIAN      Pt. 9 The Tide

Neo.... is no more.

Characters: Neo Mysterio (Quentin Beck), Doc Ock (Otto Octavius), Spider-Man (Peter Parker), Alexandria Beck (Alex), Maria Beck, Sandman (Flint Marko), Chameleon, Electro, Rhino, Terrax the Tamer, various Avengers (TU)

TU = Terrax Universe

THE WARNINGS APPLY TO THIS CHAPTER.

Warnings: Explicit gore and death, violence, mentions of past abuse, mental illness, physical illness

^These warnings are here for the story as a whole. If you get invested by reading a less graphic chapter, then be prepared for the warnings above in other parts!!

Iron Man gently laid Mysterio down. Helmet busted open, armor rent apart, arm broken, impaled and bleeding to death, Beck could only wheeze his last breaths. Stark called for emergency personnel nearby. He dared not move Beck on his own or risk further injury. Let the professionals handle it.

Mysterio was supposed to be saving his strength, but it didn’t really matter. He sputtered into his quantum radio, hoping to reach out to his friend from across the infinite world between worlds.

Neo Mysterio: “D-doc....”

Doc Ock: “I’m here, Beck...”

Neo Mysterio: “We... won...”

Doc Ock: “I saw... I recorded it all. You want this sent to your sister, correct...? Are you... sure she would want to see something like this?”

Neo Mysterio: “I know her... She... would want t-to know... ...Let the w-whole... world know... That I did it for them... promise me.. you’ll show them... s-show them all that I-I’m not s-s-such a coward.... that... I really... was... ...nn”

Doc Ock: “...I promise. I’m sure.... they all will be proud of you.”

Neo Mysterio: “hhah.. I’m.. n-not concerned about t-that... F-for once in my life.... I... I think I finally... d-don’t feel the need to.... hide anymore... I’m not... the pathetic.. kid I was, unable to stand up.. for myself... H-hiding behind my sister... hiding from... the authorities... hiding behind a... mask... I feel.... Alright.... Is... is this what being a h-hero feels like...? Not... needing to run... not... needing to.. hh... it... f-feels... nice...”

Doc Ock: “You should.... save your breath, Beck... please... rest.”

Neo Mysterio: “...you and I b-both know.... that... I’m.. not going to make it..... So... I’m going.. to s-speak my peace... while I can... if.. you’ll s-stick around... and lend me y-your ear..”

Doc Ock: “...I’ll always stay by your side....”

Neo Mysterio: “...t-thank you.. Doc... Y-you have my will... you know what to.. do with it... but.. for this recording... right now... I’ll just say it... Sis... I’m... sorry I couldn’t... make it back... I’m s-sorry... that it... had to be this way... I only... wished that you.. c-could have.. had a good life.... for everything you’ve d-done for me... you deserve it... Alex... I hope... y-you make it through your treatments.... I.. couldn’t bear to live... in a world... without you... I leave it a-all.. to you... I... only wish you the best... As... As for everyone else... who watches this... I... regret nothing... I only regret... that my life.. our lives.. had to be... set down t-this road... Don’t throw away your lives... your futures... for petty gain..... but protect... what matters most...... You’ll never... know all of my tricks.... I.. think I’ll... just take them to.. my grave... and... once I’m gone... the Earth will be free... to continue it’s miserable... existence... as m-my satellite... and... that’s just the w-way it’s.. going to be... I did this.. for this Earth... but... I would do the same.. on any Earth... ... ...”

With his speech over, Beck fell silent, quietly wheezing as his strength faded. At this point, he was on a stretcher, headed for the back of an ambulance, but it really didn’t matter. Soon his heart gave out, he had lost far too much blood too quickly. No amount of transfusions could save him. Desperately, they tried to use the defibrillators on him. Alas, his time of death was marked. A Thursday afternoon, around 3:37 pm. 

Doc sat back in his chair. There was nothing to say. Quietly, he opened one of the drawers at his desk and removed a moderately sized envelope with the words: “To My Dear Sister” written in cursive across it. He then reached for the phone while uploading the recording to the internet for all to see.

The city was saved, the fires put out, and everyone was accounted for mostly. The Avengers could finally breathe a sigh of relief. Once they had gotten their wounds treated, one by one, they paid their respects to their unlikely hero. 

Spider-Man got his leg finally stitched up when he heard the news from Captain America. Immediately, he went to Mysterio’s room and stood at the bedside. Silently, he thanked the super villain. He was proud of Beck for stepping up and doing the noble thing, but also torn. He should have been there to help. If only he had shown up, then perhaps Beck wouldn’t have had to die... 

That thought clung to him like a plague for a few moments. 

If he hadn’t stopped to save those people, they all could have died. Sure, Ant-Man, Wasp, and some of the other heroes were saving people, but... What if they didn’t rescue them in time? Dozens of people could have been dead without his help... He doesn’t like trading lives, no Avenger does. But the math and Mysterio’s conviction that Captain America had told him... made him feel a bit better about his decision. 

Doc Ock managed to radio Spider-Man, telling him the receiver pad was complete... And that he already knew of his friend’s fate. It didn’t stop Parker from apologizing for his loss. Quietly, Ock thanked him for his kind words. He promised that upon his return, Spider-Man would be free to go, considering all that had happened... Besides, they had a funeral to arrange.

Initially, the Avengers had planned to bury Mysterio in this world. Parker protested. He should take Beck’s body home... He had a family waiting. They quietly agreed, and with Stark’s help, the portal generator was completed within a few hours. Spider-Man carried the body of his former enemy through the portal.

This time, it was a gentle transition between dimensions. At Ock’s indication, Peter gently laid Beck’s body on an empty table. They silently nodded to one another, and Spider-Man left, wanting to put this all behind him. If only he hadn’t attacked Quentin those days ago... It felt like an eternity since he was back home.

Quietly, the rest of the sinister six gathered around at the base. Flint was rather devastated. He could hardly keep his composure. If this had happened in their world, if the bastard who did this was still around, Marko would have torn them limb from limb. Ock murmured his agreement, as did Electro. 

Rhino crossed his arms. He said he was proud of the super villain for standing his ground. For teaching that tyrant what it meant to cross the sinister six. Humanity was not to be underestimated. He only wished that he had gotten more of a chance to know Mysterio better.

Chameleon was often the one to work with Beck on his missions, but at this time he said nothing. His face was thankfully hidden behind his ever present mask, but underneath, one could only imagine the pain and rage in his eyes.

It had been some time since the video was uploaded. News corporations around the globe took snippets of it and made their reports. The Avengers made and official pardon for Mysterio, now calling his actions “heroic.” He would be given a proper memorial in his honor for saving Earth.

Even super villains like Dr. Doom gave their respect for taking down a herald of Galactus almost single-handedly. 

The time was set, and while they were wanted criminals, the sinister six made an appearance at the funeral. He was buried as is, per his wishes. Armor and all was entombed within a black coffin and buried six feet deep. His head stone was adored with a statue of his armored self along with the words: “HERE LIES QUENTIN BECK.”

The only thing left was to read the will of a magician. 

[grimtwin]

More of it from a much later chapter. Bits and pieces that I’m not sure will make it in or be changed yet. These aren’t edited, so some of it may seem pretty crappy at the moment. 

(The beginning of the Elder Toguro fight)

“Shizuru...what's wrong? You look sick,” Kaisei asked, concern rising in his voice. Beads of sweat were beginning to form on her brow, her skin pale and face twisted in a pained grimace.

“There's...something coming. Something dark, and more sinister than I've ever felt before,” Shizuru groaned, hunched over and gripping her own arms. A cold chill shot through her body, and the wave of nausea that struck, threatened to spill her recently eaten breakfast. Kaisei moved to help support Shizuru, when the brunette suddenly collapsed, her knees buckling beneath her. With his trained reflexes rivaling even that of even Hiei's, Kaisei caught Shizuru around the waist, and gently lowered her to the ground. “Shizuru, what's happening!? What's going on?”

“Something's here Kaisei, it's right on top of us! W-we have to get everyone out of here, now!” Shizuru croaked, gasping for air as though she were being choked. A sudden shiver ran down Kaisei's spine; though his spiritual awareness was no where near as powerful as Shizuru's, he could now feel a painfully ominous aura permeating the temple grounds, one that terrified him. He'd often heard that Shizuru's spiritual awareness was the strongest of any humans, and if she felt this bad, something truly horrific was about to befall them. Kaisei swallowed the building lump in his throat, and a bead of sweat rolled down his cheek. He suddenly felt like weakened prey being hunting by a savage predator moving in for the kill. Cerulean eyes darted about the temple grounds, searching for where the feeling was coming from, but he just couldn't place it; it seemed to be everywhere all at once!

“Kaisei! Shizuru! What's going on!?”

Kaisei's head snapped around at the sound of his name being called, spotting Yukina and Botan jogging toward them, concern etched on their faces.

“No, stop!” Shizuru shouted, “Stay away!”

Botan and Yukina froze at Shizuru's warning, their tennis shoes squeaking as they skid to sudden halt on the stone pathway. Amethyst eyes widened in shock as Botan became aware of their situation just a moment too late.

There was something below them...

The ground beneath Yukina and her own feet trembled and suddenly lurched upward, throwing the two training combatant's off balance. Time seemed to slow to a crawl for Botan as the dark energy beneath her feet struck up at them. Spear-like tendrils penetrated the ground all around Yukina and herself, splitting the stone as if it had been nothing more than tissue paper. Botan spun toward Yukina, fear and desperation marring her face seeing that she had begun to slip backwards in a futile attempt to maintain her footing; she would not be able to dodge the attack. There was no time to think and no time for hesitation. Using every ounce of spiritual energy she could muster in the fraction of a second, Botan launched herself into the flailing ice maiden, shoving Yukina away from the oncoming attack.

Yukina fell away from her, the multiple tendrils having missed their intended target by mere inches, but Botan knew she would not be so lucky, as the attack meant for both of them, was now shooting up at her alone. With no time to dodge the attack herself, Botan braced herself for what was next to come.

Blinding pain wracked Botan's body before she could even realize what had happened to her. She attempted to scream in pain but her breath had been stolen away, her throat and chest refusing to expand to allow the intake of air. Her body jerked, trying to flinch way from the pain, but she found herself unable to move, her left leg and right arm refusing to operate at all, like they had been pinned down.

(To be continued)

Kaisei quickly scooped Botan up in his arms and raced over to Yukina, laying the devastated ferry woman down as gently as he could. Yukina stared wide eyed down at her sister in horror, taking in the severity of her injuries. The ferry girl's wounds were horrific, a deathly gray pale setting into her once olive skin. In having saved Kaisei, Botan had been stabbed through her throat, chest, and thigh. “Quickly! Apply pressure to her wounds!” Yukina instructed, moving to Botan's head.

“Botan!? Botan, can you hear me?” Yukina cried, tears spilling from her eyes and clattering to the ground, “Botan stay with us!” Her trembling hands pressed firmly on the gaping hole in Botan's neck, blood oozing steadily between her fingers, as she tried to staunch the bleeding while her healing energy worked to close arguably the worst of Botan's wounds. Shizuru's equally blood stained hands pressed firmly down on the hole in Botan's chest, just under her right breast. The gurgled whistle that sounded every time Botan struggled to breath told her that Botan's lung had collapsed after being punctured by Toguro's fingers; if she didn't drown in her own fluids or die from blood loss, Botan would suffocate in a matter of minutes. Further still, Fubuki had both her hands clamped down over Botan's once gushing thigh, the ribbon previously used in her hair, tied snugly above the wound in attempt to cut down the circulation of blood.

Kaisei grit his teeth, trying to contain his anger as he kneel at Botan's side. She'd risked her life to save his own, pushing him out of the way of an attack he should have easily been able to dodge. He'd been trained better than this!

“This one's closed! Fubuki, move away!” Yukina ordered with labored breath. The teen girl jumped back, allowing Yukina access to the horrid gash. The blood had slowed considerably from the applied tourniquet but the wound was much larger than the one in Botan's throat had been; it would require a great deal more of stamina to close it Yukina surmised, already pumping her energy into the near lifeless woman.

“Oh deary me, it looks as if the ferry girl isn't doing too well. Such a pity, tch tch tch.  Should I put her out of her misery and save you the trouble of expending your energy perhaps?” Toguro sang tauntingly before breaking into a mad cackle,  “Not that it will prolong your lives any longer than hers of course!”

The elder Toguro raised his clawed hand once again, the mound of flesh mutating grotesquely between various weapons. “What should I use? A spear or a blade? Perhaps a mace? Oh I just do love the sight of a beautiful woman screaming in pain before I snuff the light from her eyes!”

His manic smile slowly dissolved into a sadistic sneer, “Or better yet! How about I devour your bodies and take your abilities for myself!?” The hinges of his mouth tore open, stretching his jaw wide like that of a snake, and the cold, dark, feeling of blood lust hit the team like a tidal wave. “The Territory I stole from Gourmet is still very much active, and your powers will be quite useful to me.”

Kaisei couldn't help be falter momentarily. In all the years of his training under his mother, fighting off demons that attacked their home, none had ever felt as powerful and evil as the scraggly man standing before him. The horrific sight of the short demon, mouth stretched wide down to his knees, could send shivers down the toughest of humans' spines. Next to him, Kuroko dropped into a defensive stance in front of the rest of her students, still caught up in healing Botan. “Kaisei, on your guard.”

Shaking the negative thoughts away, Kaisei did just as he was instructed, taking his practiced guard. “Right Mom, sorry.” He answered quickly. He couldn't show anymore weakness. Not when Botan was fighting for her life because of him. Fubuki quickly joined at his side, raising her bloodied fists as she too, took her combat stance. “Kaisei, stay focused. I know what you're thinking but we can't let this freak get to the others.” A silent nod of his head was her response.

“Aww now isn't this just touching, truly a family moment! Mother and children standing together to save the day!”

(To be continued)

Yukina's eyes began to glow white and an icy breeze flow around her. Extending her right leg forward, Yukina pressed the sole of her foot into the ground, and began  to slide it along in a wide sweeping motion, leaving behind an ice trail that pulsated with a similar white energy. She continued to do so until a large glowing circle surround Botan's prone body. “I'm sorry Botan,” Yukina apologized quietly to the unconscious woman,”It's going to get a little cold.” Picking up Fubuki and Kaisei's discarded jackets, Yukina lay them over Botan's body to fight off the impending chill.

“Yukina...what did you just do?” Shizuru asked from outside of the ring. She could feel a large amount of Yukina's energy in the icy circle, and the sudden drained look on Yukina's already tired face was adding to Shizuru's concern.

Yukina eyed Toguro and his partner warily, both caught up in the fight with the Sato family, before moving to join Shizuru. It was too big a risk to explain aloud; both opponents were crafty and Yukina would rather they didn't hear her explanation of her ability. “Please Shizuru, read my mind,” Yukina wheezed out, trying to catch her breath once again. Her stamina had already taken a large hit, and the real fight had yet to begin.

Shizuru glanced back at the ensuing battle, making sure their foes wouldn't get a chance to attack them while distracted. Turning back to Yukina, Shizuru nodded firmly before reaching out and placing her palm on the smaller girl's crown. Closing her eyes and concentrating, Shizuru felt the mental link connect, and Yukina's voice sounded in her head.. “I've placed a protective barrier around Botan. If anything that I deem a threat tries to pass through, they will be frozen instantaneously,” Yukina explained, “I can't produce another one of these with the energy I have remaining however. Healing Botan's wounds took far greater energy than I had expected...”

(To be continued)

[myhahnestopinion]

THE AARONS 2018 - Best TV Show

I stated last year that 2017 was the year Peak TV broke me, with too many shows spread across too many services, with many more on their way. 2018 was the year I learned to let go of the fact that I will never be able to watch every show, and to just be content with all the great shows I was able to catch. Here are the Aarons for Best TV Show:

#10. Barry (Season 1) – HBO

A simple premise that could initially be dismissed as prestige TV’s over-fascination with anti-heroes mixed with Hollywood’s over-fascination with itself, Bill Hader’s dark-comedy about a hitman who moves to LA to pursue an acting career quickly develops into a complex examination of post-war PTSD, a deconstruction of television tropes, and, simultaneously, just one of the funniest shows of the year. With veteran comedic talent like Henry Winkler and surprising break-outs like Anthony Carrigan to bolster a firing-on-all-cylinders Bill Hader as the titular character, Barry says “Yes, and…” to every opportunity to mix its hilarity with harrowing content to pitch-perfect results. While the premise, which feels dangerously close to slipping into Dexter territory by season’s end, may end up unsustainable at this level of quality, for now, Barry is a sure-fire hit, man.

#9. Dear White People (Season 2) – Netflix

More than weathering the backlash to its misnomer title, as well as the political climate that feeds into that backlash, Dear White People channels all that rage, frustration, misunderstanding, and fear into an oft-livid, oft-cathartic, and always witty season of television. Funny while never losing its firm focus, the most amusing aspect of Dear White People is perhaps the absolute joke it makes of the idea “diversity of thought” is mutually exclusive from “diversity of people” through the deft writing of its exceptional ensemble cast, who take turns shining in episodes that range from a groovy neo-noir mystery to an emotionally-eruptive bottle episode, culminating in an intriguing cliffhanger that suggests Dear White People has plenty left to address.

#8. Daredevil (Season 3) – Netflix

Just as Wilson Fisk clawed his way back up to being the King of Crime throughout the third season of the superhero drama, Daredevil clawed its way back up to the King of the Marvel-Netflix collaborations (and back onto this list following its nod all the way back in the 2015 Aarons) with a storyline based on the acclaimed “Born Again” comic-book run. While the show continues to have significant failings (including, most egregiously, the literal fridging of a female character in this latest batch of episodes), it’s easy for viewers to become blinded to them thanks to the chemistry of its main trio of friends, its renewed fixation on weighty thematic content, and, of course, its impressive fight sequences, including most notably the now-requisite one-take fight sequence that takes the form of an expansive prison riot this go-round. While the series has now been cancelled, solace can at least be found in the fact the show underwent such a creative rebirth before its untimely demise.

#7. American Crime Story: The Assassination of Gianni Versace (Season 2) – FX

Ryan Murphy’s anthology series may have been working with less well-known true-crime material in its second outing, but the resulting exploration of the sinister systemic forces that influence such shocking stories is no less resonant. True-crime has several difficult hurdles to clear to not feel like cheap exploitation, and American Crime Story strikes the right balance to its appropriately disturbing portrayal of the heinous acts by framing them through the devastating impact they have, not only on the direct victims, but on the whole of a society more concerned with reinforcing homophobic power structures than with the pain and horror such structures produce. The season’s reverse-chronological structure not only makes for compelling storytelling, but seems perfectly suited for the way in which the series traces the sins of America’s modern day to the crimes of its past, creating impactful television.

#6. Supergirl (Season 3b-4a) – CW

Supergirl’s continually-increasing confidence and complexity has sent the series soaring to new heights with its pointed fourth season, which distills its obvious real-world political influences into an effectively universal rumination on the insidious nature of bigotry, the trials of public perceptions, and the necessity of hope. It remains to be seen whether Supergirl can stick the landing with its lofty ambitions, which deserve appreciation regardless, but grounding its dynamic superhero storytelling in the inspirational performance of lead Melissa Benoist, as well as a further push for inclusivity with the introduction of television’s first transgender superhero Dreamer, makes for television that is quite super, girl.

Hey, it’s my awards show. Let me pun.

#5. Better Call Saul (Season 4) – AMC

Better Call Saul’s fourth season appeared to reach a breaking point in regard to its overlap in cast, stories, and timeline with its parent show, it’s an aspect that could be read as a significant flaw or as the greatest strength of a great season. It’s easy to lament the loss of the quirky lawyer comedy the show was in its earlier episodes, but this mourning is perhaps reflective of the soul-wrenching moral descent of Jimmy McGill, spiraling harder and faster in wake of last season’s tragic ending. It’s painful in all the right ways watching the excellent cast lead their characters to fates both known and unknown, making for a momentous (and still endearingly offbeat) season of television that recalls the finest moments of Breaking Bad, but just might be arguably better.

#4. BoJack Horseman (Season 5) – Netflix

In a series renowned for its gut-punches, the underlying message of BoJack Horseman’s fifth season might be the most difficult to grapple with: No amount of regret, good intentions, or tragic backstories excuses BoJack or entitles him to a happy ending. But that’s no reason not to continue to seek healing. Netflix’s animated adventures of anthropomorphic animals continues to be one of the most important and affecting examinations of toxic relationships, mental illness, and the cycles of abuse in art. The fifth season’s added meta-narrative allows the show to deconstruct the uncomfortability of its own representations, and the toxicity in its own fanbase. At a time when questions of abuse and reconciliation not just in Hollywood, but everywhere, rage in our cultural consciousness, BoJack Horseman provides a powerful way to grapple with these issues… and make them digestible through its quick-witted wordplay, visual gags, and general horsing around, as always. 

#3. Legends of Tomorrow (Season 3b-4a) – CW

If you were to travel back in time to just a few years ago, it would feel unbelievable how big the CW’s interconnected superhero universe has become... and that DC’s Legends of Tomorrow would lead the pack in quality. However, the once middling show really went the extra mile in spicing things up. Sending a talking, telepathic gorilla back in time to kidnap a young Barrack Obama? Combining elemental energies to form an enlarged Tickle-Me-Elmo rip-off named Beebo to take down a Time Demon? Having your Time Demon played by classical actor John Noble, and then having an episode in which the characters travel back in time to the set of the Lord of the Rings movies to record the voice of John Noble, playing Denathor, playing himself in order to trick a character into believing that John Noble’s John Noble voice is in fact the voice of John Noble’s Time Demon character?? It’s hard to believe that these episodes exist in any show, let alone all of them (and so much more) in one. This zany energy, accentuated by a game cast and an embrace of its misfit nature, reflected in the character’s diversity in both backgrounds and powers, have allowed the show to finally rightfully claim the title of legendary. 

#2. Atlanta (Season 2) – FX

Much like the last entry on this list, it’s impossible to know what to expect when one sits down to watch the latest episode of Donald Glover’s uncanny comedy Atlanta, which, when it first appeared on this list two years ago, was aptly described as like a never-ending Christmas. Whether banding together its group of rising comedic talent (including Zazie Beetz, Brian Tyree Henry, and Lakeith Stanfield) or spinning them off into their own madcap adventures, Atlanta continued to surprise and stupefy in style in its sophomore outing. Once again weaving insightful socio-economic commentary into sitcom premises cranked up to ten and funneled through an idiosyncratic vision, Atlanta’s quality remained as lush and bold as evergreen lantana.

That one’s not really a pun, but, again, this is my awards show, so no one can stop me.

AND THE BEST TV SHOW OF 2018 IS...

#1. The Good Place (Season 3) – NBC

When The Good Place began, it was met with a caution concerning its long term sustainability, but in its now third season, the show’s penchant for blowing up its own premise at every opportunity can be clearly seen as the confident strokes of a long-gestating story. Even within its absurd afterlife of bizarre predilections and oddball characters, the show never loses sight of its stirring humanistic core, which found new resonance in an inspirational third season premise that provides hope and happiness in the seemingly most dire of circumstances. While, as of this writing, it remains to be seen in what ways the show might again radically alter its make-up heading into the confirmed fourth season, but, based on the bonzer quality of the entire show thus far, it might be time to start considering that we’ve all been in the Good Place this whole time.

NEXT UP: THE 2018 AARONS FOR BEST TV EPISODE!

[amareite]

Lacewood Week 2018 Day 5

Prompt - Heroes/Villains

Word Count - 9.4k

Warnings - Blood/ Violence, Language, Length

Wrote this in just over 9 hours, in a car, on alarming amounts of Gravol on a road trip. Forgive spelling errors and the like, I’m a very drowsy woman.

Team Flare was perhaps too aggressive. 

Augustine stood above Vaniville, watching it burn from a safe distance from a nearby hillside in the dead of night. There was pain echoing around. Screaming from the residents. The destruction burned the professor to his very core but he couldn’t show it. Not with Lysandre right beside him, staring off to the carnage with mild approval.

Fear overtook Augustine, staring at his oldest friend, who had been many things in his life but right now it was Leader. The professor never dreamed it would come to this, he never dreamed that Lysandre would become this tyrannical madman. How had his dream of beauty and preservation become this warped caricature of death? Perhaps the red visor he was given to wear just made everything seem so much worse.

An explosion brought Augustine’s gaze back to the devastation. The flames burned brighter. If anyone had stayed behind, they would certainly be dead. Calem’s parents were certainly alive, they were out of the country but Grace… she was still here. Who knows if she made it out alive?

Vaniville was only a target because Lysandre claimed that his student, Serena, was a threat. Too big of a threat to ignore. If Augustine dared speak against Lysandre about anything, he would be exposed. Lysandre would know he didn’t believe in his ideals and he would lose his advantage to help those in desperate need of it.

Right now, Team Flare had descended their force to Ambrette and Couriway. Both towns lacking in gym leaders and proper protection. Ambrette had scientist and Couriway had an escape route, the train, it only made sense to attack those cities first. The Power Plant had yet to be destroyed. Lysandre told him Aliana was there, set to take the facility.

He told Sina and Dexio about Lysandre’s plans so they could limit the destruction. It seemed to do nothing. His attempts to save those of the small town were fruitless as most certainly, the death toll would likely be staggering. He couldn’t allow for this to continue. He couldn’t stand for this but he had no choice… He could not fight Lysandre on his own.

“There’s a strange beauty in destruction, is there not?” Lysandre’s baritone pulled him in, he sounded so blasé over the death of possible hundreds. It was terrifying.

“I imagine it suits your tastes very well.” Augustine answered quietly. He couldn’t see it. There was no beauty in eradicating the innocent.

“You sound disappointed.” Accusatory. So quick to jump to conclusions. As always.

Augustine turned his gaze over, staring right into the icy blue eyes of his comrade. “I always thought Vaniville was incredibly beautiful.”

A slow nod of understanding. “When this is all over, we’ll rebuild it. Make it even more beautiful.” Lysandre was so sure in his statement, so confident. Augustine wished he could try to convince Lysandre this wasn’t the way to preserve beauty, he was becoming that which he despised most but he couldn’t say it. Lysandre was committed.

It was sudden when the taller man swiveled on his heel to turn away from the destruction. “Come. Perhaps this will draw out your student.”

Augustine couldn’t breathe over the fear in his heart. He was already targeting Serena so closely and if she didn’t know they were coming for her, she could be killed before she even had a chance to bargain for her life. “I’m sure she’s on her way here.” Serena was smarter than that, she wouldn’t be lured out so easily but he was trying to buy time.

Lysandre nonchalantly waved his hand. “No, she’s too clever. She must be in Lumiose City.” Even Lysandre understood his student, he thought with a grimace.

Augustine finally descended the hill to follow his friend. Attempting to keep his pulse, breathing and cringing under a tight hold. He was not ready to do what needed to be done and the more time he wasted, more would die. “Will we dominate Kalos city by city? Like this?”

Lysandre’s helicopter came into view and he put an arm on Augustine’s shoulder, pulling him close. “Vaniville was merely a prevue. A warning to the rest. We will send a message to everyone in this country and to those who still reject us… will burn.” A deep rumble from within the man told Augustine there was more to this than purifying the world, for beauty. Something far more sinister than he ever could have betted on.

Augustine managed a curt nod. “The more that see your message, the better.”

Lysandre ignored his answer. “Where’s Diantha?”

The professor shrugged, Diantha was always on the move. “I don’t know. I’ve tried contacting her but there’s been no connection.”

Lysandre hummed and narrowed his eyes. “Interesting,” a thoughtful murmur. “Let’s go.” He commanded, climbing into the helicopter.

They were in the air. It was a quiet ride, and Augustine had to stop himself from trying to turn in his seat to see the pyre that was previously Vaniville. There were sixteen major towns and cities in Kalos and he just watched as that number was dropped to fifteen. If the other teams succeeded, the count was down to thirteen. Would they be the only casualty? How much more could he stand to witness? How long could he last before Lysandre figured out his ploy?

Lysandre pulled out a tablet and read through a few messages and apparently one piqued his interest as he straightened in his seat.

The taller man laughed, a deep menacing rumble. “I know where Serena is.”

Augustine whipped his gaze from the window to look at him. “Where?”

“She’s on South Boulevard, let’s make some time for her in our busy schedule.”

Augustine had to find Serena first. He had to. If Lysandre found her, something terrible would happen to Serena. Lysandre was not shy over telling him the plans he had. The destruction he was going to inflict on those insufferable, useless fools of the world were greatly detailed.

Lumiose City was in view quickly enough, the largest difference being that Prism Tower was lit up in a deep red. Lysandre had already taken over the city and that was his claim. The Holo Caster was his, connections and communications were frozen, only those with a Team Flare clearance number could communicate. Lysandre was kind enough to offer Augustine a direct line of communication with him.

They exited the helicopter. “Look for her, she’s nearby.”

Augustine nodded and sprinted off. It would hopefully show Lysandre that he was eager to help and not the other way around. He searched in between alleys and café’s that were closed down and in some of the office buildings that weren’t shut down yet.

Serena didn’t seem to be anywhere near here. Which was fantastic. It was all he hoped for. Augustine turned on his communicator to talk to Lysandre but was cut off from the other side.

“Did you think you could hide?” The malice in Lysandre’s voice made him freeze. Did Lysandre already figure him out? The professor couldn’t work his mouth. Terror filled him.

A feminine voice replied distantly in fear. “Lysandre!” That was Serena! He found Serena first! Merde. Where did he find her…? His lab. He was so blind. Serena must’ve been hiding in his lab and Lysandre figured her out first dammit, he didn’t think Serena would be so obvious!

Lysandre replied lowly. “Don’t be scared. Not of me, child.” Augustine took off running from inside the office building and the moment he left its doors, called out Charizard and jumped onto the Pokémon’s back.

“Home.” Augustine muttered, away from the open communicator. His fire Pokémon flew off into the sky.

Serena argued with Lysandre, anger dripping out of her voice. “What did you do to my home?” Augustine prayed she didn’t press too hard too quickly so that Lysandre was pressed to hurt her.

Lysandre scoffed at her, mimicking sympathy. “An unfortunate accident.” He could see his lab, where could they be inside? It had to be his office, it had to be.

“How could you!?” Serena shrieked at him, she sounded so hurt in that moment. Augustine willed Charizard to go faster.

Lysandre was silent for a moment before replying. “Necessity. The weak and the useless must be destroyed for this world to flourish.” There was more silence. Then a struggle, he could hear Serena cry out in pain.

Lysandre sighed extravagantly. “Serena, don’t fight me,” He murmured sympathetically. “Come with me, join our ranks. Augustine would be positively euphoric to have you join us, share in our ideals.” Dammit, Lysandre! Serena wasn’t supposed to know. He was supposed to find her first so he could lead her out of the city and to safety. This was going so wrong.

“The Professor?” Serena’s heartbroken disbelief killed him. Charizard finally landed at his front steps and Augustine ran up the steps and yanked his lab’s front doors open.

Lysandre chuckled. “He watched beside me as your home was destroyed.” There was a sudden zapping noise he couldn’t place and a fearful gasp from Serena.

Serena screamed. “No-!” Another struggle. There was a sharp jarring sound and Lysandre growled in pain. Serena hit him for sure. Why didn’t she call out her Pokémon?

“Join you? You!? My answer should be obvious!” Serena howled loud enough that Augustine heard her through the walls as he ran to his office. Augustine opened the door and ran in from around the partition just fast enough to hear Serena’s final statement. “And if it isn’t, fuck you.”

Lysandre pulled out a taser, a weapon he’d had one of his scientists develop, it was a useful item and good for taking hostages, he said. Augustine froze, Lysandre was gripping Serena by her neck and had lifted her off the ground. He pressed the taser to her skin and let go of her neck.

It worked only too well. Serena fell to the ground with a pained cry, her limbs weak while spasms wracked her body. Lysandre knelt by her and cupped her cheek, she glared back unable to move and the fury that swirled in her eyes was captivating. In the corner of the room, Serena’s travel bag. Of course, Lysandre couldn’t chance failure now. He was never going to give Serena the slightest chance of victory. Or survival.

Lysandre sighed and brandished a knife. “You had so much potential.”

“Don’t!” Augustine shouted. He needed to think of a plan, buy Serena time to escape but she was injured now. What could he do for her without giving everything away? He couldn’t dare bring his gaze to look at Serena who was so distraught at seeing him. She was probably thinking the worst. Seeing him dressed head to toe in Team Flare garb.

“Augustine…?” Lysandre rumbled in anger. Augustine glared right back at Lysandre. He had an idea.

The professor outstretched his hand to Serena. “If you’re going to kill her, give her to me.”

“Are you serious?”

Augustine swallowed thickly and nodded. “I told you, I believe your ideals. I will do anything to make sure you reach them.” Augustine approached from the back of the room, standing before the leader of Team Flare. Lysandre paused but nodded, offering him the dagger he had brandished.

When Augustine reached down for his student, he had hoped Serena would be docile so he could exact his plan but the moment he grabbed her arm, Serena reacted violently and scratched his face. The visor saved his eye thankfully but her nails dragged down his cheek, jaw, and neck. It stung the instant she made contact.

Augustine lurched back, no words came out of his mouth. He deserved that and so much more. Lysandre pressed the taser into her side and Serena cried out. Only then Augustine grunted, pained from Serena’s shrieks.

The man with red hair brought a hand up to the professor’s cheek and regarded him in surprise. “She is certainly a fighter, look at your face.”

Augustine tilted his head away slightly. “It will be worth it.” He said passively, Lysandre smirked, looking down at the girl with cruel contempt.

“Why…?” Serena struggled to speak.

Lysander shook his head. “This world is beautiful and it needs to stay that way. I shall preserve this state eternally.”

Serena huffed in an effort to push herself up but the taser had done its damage. “You destroyed so much already… You’re ruining everything you’re fighting for!” Serena cried to the both of them. The professor agreed internally, Lysandre sighed in annoyance.

Augustine finally directly acknowledged his student. “Serena.” he began slowly, calling attention of even Lysandre to look at him.

The professor sighed at her. “You don’t understand. This is bigger than you could imagine. You’re young, and it seems like the world is ending but this is just the beginning.”

Serena shook her head, gasping in pain. “It’s wrong! How is everyone guilty of the crimes you committed as well!? Who judges you!?” She exploded on them both. She was right but Augustine shook his head.

“I wish you agreed to our terms. So you could see what is truly possible.”

Serena couldn’t stop the tears as she stared at him and Augustine clenched his fists to stop himself from falling to the floor and comforting her and hugging her and telling her it was a ruse, a ruse! He had to hold his breath in fear of giving himself away and crying in pain over hurting his beloved protégé.

Lysandre stood beside the professor and knelt down, gripping Serena’s chin. “Perhaps… we don’t have to kill her immediately.” His murmur was sinister, causing Serena to clench her eyes shut in terror and jerk away. This was her nightmare. The professor seemed to be at her rescue regardless.

“We don’t have a lot of time, we should get moving.”

Serena decided to keep her mouth shut, she was afraid that if she was too aggressive, it would entice Lysandre to make good on his promise. “Hmm, you’re right. How unfortunate, if only you could see the truth.” He grinned viciously at Serena and she shrunk back on the floor, gritting her teeth. She couldn’t even fight back.

“Let me have this, she is my student.” Augustine’s words surprised them both.

Lysandre nodded gravely, staring at his friend. “You know what needs to be done,” Augustine brought himself to stare in return with the same intensity. “Kill her.” Serena stared at both men in pure horror, mentally begging and pleading that this wasn’t happening but… what could she do? She was already so weak from the taser.

When Augustine nodded slowly, Lysandre turned to Serena again. He grabbed her by the hair forcefully, causing her to cry out in pain as he lifted her off the floor by her blonde tresses. Augustine had to squeeze his eyes shut, not wanting to see Serena be hurt like this.

“So beautiful.” Lysandre murmured softly to her, almost kindly. “I don’t think I would have been able to defeat you myself. I would have loved to have you for Team Flare, but your passion has led you down a different path.” The large man squeezed his grip on her hair to enunciate his words. Serena could barely struggle she was so injured.

“Augustine has allowed me the privilege of being merciful towards you. I was going to make a spectacle of you but Augustine requested you personally.”

Serena now stood before Lysandre and Augustine, leaning back on his office desk for support, she was shaking and weak. She couldn’t stop her tears as she stared at Augustine, who readied his blade. They weren’t out of fear or grief, they were out of hatred, disbelief, and loss.

The professor understood that, and hoped this would be enough to placate Lysandre, who was watching, and simply thrilled that his best friend shared his ideals. Augustine stared long and hard at his student. Then he marched forward with purpose stopping just a step away from her.

“Adiue, mon coeur.”

And the blade was thrust into her. Serena jerked and shut her eyes, the pressure on her stomach felt nothing like a blade but she let out a choked gasp and sob anyway. She opened her eyes and stared down. That pressure was Augustine’s hand and that hand was protecting her from the knife just hairs away from piercing her.

There was blood everywhere suddenly, she felt faint. Serena sobbed and looked up to Augustine and that was where she saw the regret, the sorrow, the sadness, the unshed tears as he kept the blade in his own hand. She didn’t want to faint, she weakly brought her hands to grasp at his knife, desperate for this to be a nightmare.

Serena could see the words ‘I’m sorry.’ mouthed by him, he jerked forward and Serena cried in surprise. She brought her fingers to his face, her shaking hands slipping over the blood that coated her fingers. “N-no.” Serena managed to whimper out trying to tug the knife out of his hand, Augustine tore both his hands away from her, causing his blood to splatter across the carpet from the blade leaving its fleshy sheath.

Blood was everywhere and not a drop was hers but it was all over her. Serena collapsed onto the floor, the professor made no move to catch her. She hit the ground and struggled to keep conscious, the world leaving her as her vision faded. She could hear Lysandre and Augustine talk. “She got blood on me.” Came Augustine’s disconnected voice.

“Such a tragedy for such a creature. She loved you until the very end.” Serena choked as she struggled to stay awake. Lysandre dutifully ignored her, pretended she wasn’t even there, feigning death. Blood made her nauseous.

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” Augustine dropped his deep red Team Flare trench coat on her body. “Let’s go. We’re done here.”

Lysandre chuckled darkly. “Good, to Geoseng now. I have an idea on what to do next.” His voice was far away, they were walking away from her.

“Lead the way, mon amis.” Her world was fading but just before she closed her eyes she caught Augustine’s heartbroken expression thrown at her as he rounded the partition.

Both men were quiet. Lysandre was livid that he lost a potential soldier and Augustine felt sick and his hand was burning, but ultimately hopeful that his subterfuge worked. With the Lysandre’s helicopter, Geoseng was just another short trip away. They touched down and the professor wondered exactly what they were doing here. Objectively, there was nothing in this town.

“Follow.” Lysandre commanded.

Augustine trailed wordlessly. At the far edge of the town, at the northwest corner was a secret entrance. Lysandre always did have a lot of flare, pun intended. The stairwell down truly felt like a sinister villain’s base and with the deep red walls and the steel doors, Augustine had to wonder how Lysandre didn’t see himself as a villain. Surely, when he was building this all, the thought must’ve crossed his mind once.

The professor could see scientists and grunts marching about, getting work done. This place was certainly greater than he had ever bargained it to be. Side channels and backrooms and labs. Lysandre could have done so much more with all of this. He could have made such advancements in Kalos. Apparently, people were no longer up to his standard, this only proved that all humans were destructive monsters. The irony.

Augustine investigated what he could, at one point he found a map of the HQ and found it looked like a train map, routes webbing off into exits and secret passages. He tried to remember what he could and paid attention to other happenings. Grunts piling in from the outside and Lysandre ordering around the scientist. The final weapon was here but Augustine didn’t see it anywhere. He didn’t even know what it looked like.

Lysandre interrupted his thoughts by placing a hand on the professor’s shoulder and it took everything in him to not scream in terror. By pure instinct, Augustine hid his left hand behind his back, fearful that Lysander knew. He had lost himself entirely in his own thoughts. Lysandre didn’t notice and instead forced Augustine to face him. “I should tell you…”

As offhandedly as possible, Augustine answered. “What is it?”

The taller man turned away for a moment but suddenly gazing back to the professor. “I had my grunts go to your lab and dispose of Serena.”

His heart pounded in his chest hard enough that he swore Lysandre could hear it. He had to keep calm no matter what. “Really?” He questioned his friend passively.

Lysandre seemed regretful for moment. “Yes, they accidentally destroyed a portion of your lab and for that I apologize but I needed to ensure Serena was truly dead.” His gaze returned with severe intensity. “It’s not that I doubted you. She is strong. One stab probably didn’t kill her.”

Augustine tilted his head, answering him nonchalantly with a shrug. “It was a lot of blood…”

“I had to ensure she stayed dead.” He answered tightly.

Augustine nodded slowly, suddenly feeling the world sway under his feet. He turned back to the map on the table he had found and rested his hand on the tabletop and prayed, just prayed he looked natural. “I understand. No possible retaliation. You had to do it.”

Again, Lysandre replied with regret. “I know you held strong feelings for her.”

Augustine laughed, he didn’t want to. It was a visceral response to his pain and it exploded outward in a chortle and it hurt so badly Augustine thought he was going to break, instead he squeezed Lysandre’s shoulder in what was assumed to be a comforting gesture. “It seems my feelings for you were stronger.” His words spilled out of his mouth like malicious saccharin but it was the truth for once. If he felt nothing for Lysandre, he wouldn’t have left his friends to stand here, regardless of his intent.

Lysandre’s expression softened in a way that left Augustine torn. Lysandre was switching between his old self and this new vicious satire of his ego so often the professor had trouble grasping reality.

Augustine’s feelings for the Leader of Team Flare were certainly intense but he felt them change in this very instance. Not when he threatened to kill him, not when he burned Vaniville, not when he threatened Serena but when he admitted he had his student killed for insurance.

This was the instant everything shattered for him. Lysandre was irredeemable. If only he could have saved Serena, contacted her before to stay away. It was too late. They killed Serena while she was unawares, all that pain and for it to be so empty and worthless…

Still, there was a smile, as small as it was. “I have something to attend to, try not to get lost.” Lysandre offered as he walked out of the room. Augustine turned back to the map. Unfocused and blank. Lost. Serena was still alive when they left his lab, how much more pain did she go through when Team Flare found her?

Everything went blurry as the tears came, pooling out of his eyes and streaming down his face. Serena was the only person he had wanted to protect and he failed at that, too, just like everything else.

Augustine collapsed to his knees as a sob escaped him. “Oh, mon diue, Serena. Forgive this coward,” he pulled out her mega ring, he was going to return it to her but he never had the chance. He had nothing else from her. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, s-so-.” Augustine’s words were stuttered from his whimpering. The room was cold and offered no comfort, it was alien and wrong. Augustine choked on a sob. It was all wrong.

“Please, let this be a nightmare.” He begged, not to anyone in particular, just another broken prayer in a godless place where no one could hear him.

He had to fight back. Serena didn’t deserve death. No one deserved death for this. He couldn’t contact Diantha, Sina or Dexio which only means that they were either captured, injured or dead.

It was time he clashed against his oldest friend, by himself. Not with his Pokémon, either. He would be defeated embarrassingly easy. No, just him and Lysandre and it was most likely going to end in his death but at this point, he lacked fear.

Augustine rubbed his eyes, he needed a few more moments to collect himself. His tears had left him feeling renewed. There was something he could do. Sabotage the entire HQ. Stop the Final weapon. Anything. He had to act now that Lysandre was dealing with something else. His hand flared up in pain and the professor realized that he should probably deal with that. Thankfully he was wearing black gloves. The blood didn’t show.

Augustine took off his bloodied glove and threw it out in the bin nearby. Lysandre had given him another pair, anyway. His hand was red but mostly numb. The gash on his palm would scar and leave behind a reminder what he failed. The professor only had a thin scrap of cloth wrap in his pocket. His actual supplies were in the Team Flare jacket he left on Serena. He left a communicator and some small necessities should she need them. A useless gesture.

Augustine wrapped his hand up and pulled out the spare pair of gloves from his back pocket. He took a few calming breathes, gathering himself. His visor would likely hide any redness in his eyes.

So he left the room he was situated in. And went about his business to sabotage the base. It began with going to the control room and looking around. He met some admins there. Aliana had returned from the Power Plant, and chatted with Bryony, Celosia and Mable along with Xerosic, who was handling the computers. From the looks of the security cameras, which were about 2 dozen screens on the right wall, Lysandre had merged Lysandre Labs with his headquarters here. Perhaps having everything in the café was a poor idea.

Augustine listened to the others, willing them to divulge something mentally that he could use to stop this madness. He didn’t feel out of place anymore. Augustine knew he had to destroy this control room. The format of the system were similar to his own. Lysandre had programmed the systems at the lab, that was possibly how he found Serena, he knew what to look for.

Even the interface was similar. He wondered if he sat down at a terminal and checked through the system, if anyone would become suspicious but when Augustine turned to walk out, he almost walked face first into Lysandre.

“To the Situation room.” Lysandre announced and his admins walked out, including two he hadn’t seen prior in white outfits. Augustine wondered if he should follow but when all of the people in the control exited and Augustine was about to follow the crowd, he was stopped by their Leader.

“I am not trusted?” Augustine questioned, a little betrayed. After all he’d done…

“It’s merely for the next part of the plan. I won’t bore you with the details, stay here and enjoy a look through our systems.” Lysandre seemed genuine, he trusted Augustine and it was killing him, he was making this so much easier. His entire system was his, for the next however long. Augustine almost grinned over the havoc he was going to wreak on Team Flare’s headquarters.

Regardless, Augustine smile and nodded at the Team Flare leader amicably. “I will, thank you.”

Lysandre turned and exited the control room and Augustine claimed a terminal to use the moment the door swished closed. He was going to be meticulous about breaking down every barrier he could. Lysandre perhaps assumed he was going to betray him and would kill him the moment he logged in?

Augustine turned to the door a few times in paranoia as he typed in his username and password. With the help of the card Lysandre gave him, he found he was an admin to Team Flare, a high ranking one along with… Malva. Ah, she was always a big supporter of Lysandre. Her true identity should’ve been obvious from the very beginning.

He could easily see the levels of clearance he was passing through. He had clearance to Level 4, there was another level and he assumed that only Lysandre and his trusted head scientist, Xerosic, had clearance. The professor opened as much of the security detail as he could. He unlocked doors, interrupted systems and changed the security cameras to have a 20 second delay. He avoided all the level 5 access. He imagined an alarm would be set off if he attempted to use those.

Lysandre had given him so much free reign. His trust would be his downfall and Augustine was left so conflicted. He was succeeding in his sabotage but Lysandre would surely end him. The Team Flare leader killed Serena for just being a threat, after all.

At the very end of the list of commands and room options, there was a room marked ‘Legendary’. Augustine saw the options were either On or Off. And it was off, so Augustine turned it on. For a brief instant, some of the lights seemed to flicker.

He hoped he did damage. He hoped that all of this blew up in Team Flare’s faces. Augustine stared at the security cameras and thankful to see no one heading in his direction, even with the delay he saw nothing, but then he spotted a room filled with tubes and wires. It was all leading up to a stairwell and there was a throne.

The final weapon. It was in there. It had to be. Or at least something that controlled it. A swift look at the route he had to take and he was out the door. He walked swiftly and encountered very few grunts. A few more turns and he had arrived. The door opened for him.

Augustine marched in and found himself on a high balcony. The throne he saw was right in front of him, though turned ahead and faced the tubes and wires he’d witnessed earlier. This entire room was even larger in person. At the far end of the area, on his right side, was an elevator. Not important right now, Augustine turned to the throne and found there was a small control panel linked to it.

It had all sorts of options on it. Three of the options were already selected. Two were faded, inaccessible. Showing that there was 0% power on the grid. Interesting, he saw the same thing for Level 5 clearance in the control room… but clearance was not needed here. So the professor turned it on. The energy bar at the top of the screen loaded a bit. The tubes and wires at the left side of the room, climbing up the wall, lit up. They were transferring energy somewhere.

Instead of leaving it like that, Augustine deselected all the prior three options and got a notice on the panel. Use the control module to confirm. Augustine sighed. Where the hell was that? A blinking light caught his eyes and at the bottom of the steps, was a small, standing terminal. With a blinking red button.

Well, now he had to press it.

Augustine ran down the steps and pressed the button in an almost gleeful defiance. He honestly expected nothing to happen but then the entire base shook hard enough to drop him to his knees. He blew something up? Oh, he was a dead man now. Everyone would know what he had done. Especially Lysandre. He didn’t exactly hide his tracks.

The tubes and the wires changed, they stopped moving and turned red. Honestly, he had little idea what he was doing. So he walked to the wall by the organized mess and turned a valve. This caused the wires to shut off completely. They tubes weren’t red anymore. Augustine had trouble gauging if this was really good or really bad.

“Augustine.” The voice of true rage travelled to him and caused him to freeze in terror. Alright, monumentally bad. Augustine turned to see Lysandre standing at the top of the steps and staring down on him. He was decorated in tech. He had a transparent red visor on his face and metal appendages strapped to his back.

“You lied to me.” Lysandre’s voice was venomous in its tranquil fury. The Team Flare boss stalked down the stairs to his former comrade. Augustine knew he was caught but he would not cower before his friend. It was too late for such frivolities.

“It was easy.” Augustine replied, though his heart thudded in his chest, he was scared but he would not hide now, there was nowhere to run. His stable reply affected Lysandre, a small visible twitch in his eye as he approached the professor with intent.

“How noble of you. Leaving your friends, your position and harming your beloved student for something so utterly trivial. We’re at the end. It’s over and you failed.” The taller man gestured animatedly at the weapon he had built, the wires on the wall, the money he pooled into it. His dream.

“Was it worth it?” Lysandre’s sneer transformed into something truly terrifying as his glare and wrath were exposed. “Did you really think you could have bested me, Augustine? I was your student! I know you better than you know yourself.”

Augustine thought at one time that maybe he would have been spared by his friend but it wasn’t so. Lysandre’s metallic limbs arose and grabbed him tightly by his shoulder, yanking him into the air. He cried out in pain. Lysandre barked out a laugh, his eyes wild. “Amazing, you truly thought I’d let you live?”

Augustine shut his eyes. “No, I thought I could stop you or we’d die together.”

Lysandre cackled at his statement. Suddenly reaching out and grabbing the professor’s hand, yanking it to his face, he tore the black glove off. Augustine cringed as Lysandre inspected his hand, the gash had barely begun healing. It was deep red, irritated, bleeding, just barely scabbing over. Lysandre knew, conclusively, Augustine had covered for Serena. He didn’t kill her. The haphazard bandage that covered the front and back of his palm was irrefutable proof that Augustine never stabbed Serena.

“You went so far for that child for absolutely nothing. Did it hurt, mon amis?” Lysandre pressed hard into the wound in the professor’s palm with his thumb, causing Augustine to scream in agony as pain shot up his arm. Lysandre continued to cackle.

“Answer me, was it worth it? The sacrifice you made? The irreparable harm done? Is this worth it!?” He almost crushed the professor’s hand in his grip as he laughed maniacally, almost drowning out the professors screams.

Augustine heaved in anguish, opening his eyes and staring at the ceiling, trying to focus on something, anything but the pain and the fear. The metal limbs digging into his arm, neck and legs were excruciating but he managed to reply to Lysandre’s question with a rage of his own. “I had to stop you, this madness has gone too far!”

It wasn’t what Lysandre wanted to hear at all, the metal limbs responded as such and threw Augustine into the ground violently. Augustine skidded hard across the floor and had him heave in pain. Lysandre marched towards him with a twisted smirk on his. “Oh ho, stop me? Augustine, you couldn’t even stop me from hurting your own student.”

“It was necessary. I had to help the others.” Augustine wheezed on the floor, desperately gasping for air through the pain.

Lysandre almost seemed sympathetic as he stood before Augustine. It passed quickly as he knelt before the professor and grabbed his chin tightly, forcing the professor to stare into Lysandre’s eyes. “You were the one who was leaking our battle plans?”

“I had to.” Augustine replied with a bit of sorrow. “It had to be done, you don’t know what you’re doing. I had to try and save others from your insanity.” Lysandre had become too engrossed in his plan for revenge, it didn’t even reflect his original ideals anymore.

Augustine was suddenly filled with rage. “And Serena!” He shouted at his friend, for once making Lysandre flinch with his intensity.

“She was just a girl and you had her murdered! I did what I did to get you away from her!” Augustine bared his teeth to his oldest friend, feeling the betrayal between them both, the lies and the inevitable end that was approaching.

“And it was all working so well…” He finished pitiably, his heart still not recovered from losing Serena and Lysandre had believed him so readily, there was guilt at that but he had to do it. He regretted it but it had to be done.

Lysandre let go of the professor’s face, nodding desolately as he rose slowly to full height. “It truly was.” The red haired man confessed solemnly, before lifting his leg and slamming it into Augustine’s shoulder, kicking him so hard that Augustine felt his collar and shoulder crack under the force Lysandre had bored down upon him.

His face slammed into the ground, god, he hurt so badly. The visor on his face crushed on impact. Lysandre was truly vicious, he thought as blood pooled out of his mouth and nose. Lysandre would really kill him, surprisingly, he didn’t mind all that much. There had been nightmares about this and slowly over time, they had turned into an expectant vision of the future as Lysandre lost his mind to his plans more destructively.

Augustine had made his choice and knew this was always a possibility. Lysandre grabbed him by his hair and lifted the professor by his head. Augustine felt true despair at seeing his friend’s blank face. Lysandre was not the man he once knew, who had travelled with him and supported him. Who he had taught so much to. There was nothing left of the Lysandre he’d grown up with and that’s what hurt him most.

“This ends. The lies, the deceit, you’re farcical attempts at ruining my plans. It’s over.” Lysandre growled to him, murder manifested in his eyes.

“Stop it!” A shout cut through the room and before Lysandre could react, an electrical shock slammed into him and pushed him back, forcing him to let go of Augustine’s hair and stumbling back to keep upright and out of danger.

Augustine began to collapse to the ground but two arms encircled him and cushioned him, his head rested on something soft and it took a moment to realize that someone was holding him tightly. Who on earth would be foolish enough to fight Lysandre and try and save him? Augustine lifted his head slightly and saw blonde hair. His eyes widened. It couldn’t be.

“Serena…” Augustine managed through the blood that coated his mouth in pure awe. She wasn’t even looking at him, instead her eyes were trained on Lysandre, holding their own brand of fury. He gripped her shirt, his head swam, how did this happen? How was she here? Regardless of how he felt about the woman gripping him right now, Serena was very powerful, if anyone was going to defeat Lysandre, it would be her.

“You’re alive….?” Augustine choked out. He couldn’t believe it, she survived the ambush at his lab. Her Luxray beside her, the one that attacked Lysandre and saved him. Augustine cried out, too weak to hold himself in her arms and slid down her body, his head resting on her abdomen as he fell to his knees. Serena still held him securely.

“Do you really think you can save this country now? You’re too late, though I do admire your tenacity. You were so ruined at the lab, so heart broken. Yet here you stand. Death from his hand would have been much easier, no?” Lysandre seemed almost too happy to remind them both of the professor’s actions at the lab.

Augustine pressed his face into Serena’s stomach. Goddamn him, how dare he insult Serena, his eyes snapped to the woman when she answered the taller man. “You don’t understand. I’m not here for this country. I’m here for you.” Her firm response shocked both men in the room, Serena seemed to be made of pure steel in this moment.

“You said so yourself, you didn’t think you could defeat me. We’re going to find out together. Prepare yourself, Lysandre.” Serena’s voice was strong, and Augustine hated himself for feeling so proud of his student in that moment.

As if Lysandre didn’t hear her, he gestured to Augustine and beckoned him. “Hand Augustine back to me, he needs to pay for his crimes.”

To Augustine’s utter dismay, Serena hugged him tightly and covered his head delicately with her hand, the professor honestly never felt so safe in the face of adversity before. “This isn’t about Augustine, this isn’t about you. This is about me and how I’m going to make you pay for all of the fear and destruction you’ve caused. I’m here to get revenge for Vaniville. My home.” Lysandre laughed coldly but even Augustine could tell it was hollow, there wasn’t the bite to it that Augustine knew. Lysandre was running out of time.

“Laugh, keep laughing. Until you decide to stop fucking around and battle me, we’re stuck here.” Serena was so confident and blasé that Augustine wondered where her bravado came from. Lysandre glared down at her with malice, possibly from the crude words or the fact that she was in the way of his plans.

“This will be an interesting battle.” Lysander commented as he released his Pyroar. “Enough of this. You want to stop the ultimate weapon, and I refuse to do so. Let’s end this...”

Serena recalled Luxray and released another Pokémon. Augustine expected Greninja, her first choice Pokémon but when the air turned thick and the lights dimmed from power exposure, Augustine realized that she didn’t call out Greninja. Massive red and black wings surrounded Augustine and Serena and a loud shriek shattered the air, Augustine knew that Lysandre was finished. Serena had tamed Yveltal. The legendary beast was not happy.

Lysandre stepped back in shock, his face contorting in anger. “You’re seeking help from a human? That’s truly pitiable. Now we have a reason to fight, I’ll be taking back that Pokémon.” His demeanor changed as the metal appendages attached to his body whirred to life, the red visor was back on his face and covering his eyes.

Serena spoke. It was steady, loud and unwavering. This was the part of her he loved and knew this was the part of her that Lysandre feared. Her battling prowess. Her strength. “Yveltal. Oblivion Wing.”

The resulting shockwave was too much. Augustine struggled to keep conscious but it was fruitless. There was so much pressure and he was already so injured, his eyes rolled back and he slumped in Serena’s embrace.

Augustine’s eyes snapped open hearing a garbled scream. Lysandre was across from Serena, saturated in fury, she must’ve defeated him. The entire base was falling apart, everything was cracking and screeching and collapsing. Serena was calling to the taller man, reaching for him, trying to save him. The ceiling buckled, debris and earth plummeting right on top of Lysandre. In an instant his old friend was no more. Serena wailed, dropping to her knees and shaking her head in defeat.

The professor could barely understand what had happened but none of it was good.

More of the ceiling crumbled, forcing her back, away from the impromptu grave of the Team Flare Leader. Augustine pushed himself off of the floor, he felt like hell. Serena must have set him down during their battle. The professor swayed on his feet.

Serena was beside him very suddenly.

“Professor, we have to go.” Serena stressed, her eyes filled with tears and anguish. He nodded fervently to her and turned to the main exit, the elevator up. As he walked forward, the entire elevator section was destroyed by rubble falling from the upper levels.

For a moment Serena and Augustine could only stare in muted horror. There went their escape route. Serena huffed in fear and all at once the professor remembered that he was going to save this young woman whether some divine entity wanted him to or not.

“I know another way out,” Augustine held his hand out for her to take. “We’ll have to run but you can make it.”

Serena took his hand. “We’ll both make it out.”

Augustine didn’t answer, instead turned and ran down one of the many connecting halls. Team Flare HQ was massive and Lysandre had many entrances and exits for his grunts to use. He prayed he remembered the route he had seen on the map.

The halls were empty, save for the deafening noises of the ground collapsing and the cement and metal making contact. The rumbling was lessening, possibly they were getting away from the epicenter of the destruction. Augustine pulled Serena down another hall and found the elevator he was looking for, once they made it to the top, it would be one long hallway to the exit.

Dashing inside, the professor nearly punched the button for the top floor. The doors closed and the elevator moved upward. Augustine sighed in relief. Even if they made it two floors up, they could make it out easily. He tugged Serena close, in return she wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him fiercely. The elevator shook and Augustine braced himself on the wall, moving Serena to the corner to protect her with his body in case something happened. He couldn’t even think of anything to say, it was quiet besides their heaving breaths.

The doors opened. Augustine dragged Serena out with him. Sprinting down the hall, he could see the light from the emergency exit stair well, they were so close. Just as Augustine was about to shove the doors to freedom open, the entire base collapsed at once, the force of inertia slamming into them and forcing them to crash through the doors.

For the second time today, Augustine snapped his eyes open, but was greeted with the crystal clear skies of Kalos. There wasn’t even a cloud above him, it was beautiful. And incredibly quiet. Then panic hit him, he pushed himself up off the ground with a pained moan as his gaze fell upon the destruction of Geoseng. Rubble surrounded him and he was nowhere near the town, he was all by himself.

“Serena!” Augustine cried out. Silence returned his shout. No, Augustine thought, dread filling him. He couldn’t lose her again!

“Serena!”

“Professor!” Blonde hair popped up from behind a rather large piece of cement. Serena hopped over the debris and ran to him, stumbling over the ruined terrain.

The professor sat back on some rubble for support and opened his arms wide, wanting to hug her so badly it hurt him physically. Serena dropped to her knees over the wreckage and threw her arms around his neck with a pained cry, the professor had never felt so thankful before. “Oh, mon coeur!” he cried, hugging her middle desperately.

Serena snuggled him tightly, holding her breath as she dropped her head to his chest. “You’re alright…” She whispered in awe. Barely, the professor thought to himself. He was in a lot of pain but none matched the absolute torture of thinking that he lost the woman in his arms again.

Augustine smiled, a little brokenly to her. “Thanks to you. You saved me, Serena.” Somehow, the nightmare was over. It ended before he even knew it.

“Professor,” Serena began, lifting her head to meet his gaze. “Thank you so much for everything.” She said quietly as she cupped his cheeks delicately with her hands.

His face crumpled, remembering Vaniville and what happened in his office. Tears leaked out, he was so ashamed. “I did nothing, I failed so many.” He muttered weakly, removing her hands from him.

In turn, she grasped his hands in hers, willing him to understand. “It’s not true!” She began, her voice wobbling.

“Your transmissions reached us all. Diantha saved Couriway while Sina and Dexio evacuated Vaniville. Calem, Shauna, Trevor and Tierno all saved Ambrette Town. It’s all thank to you professor, you sacrificed so much but so many survived.” She pressed, placing her lips on his knuckles.

Augustine was awed, from both the information and her careful regard. “Truly?” He quietened, almost unwilling to believe her.

Serena’s eyes lit up and nodded her head eagerly. “Yes! You were so brave, you’re my hero.”

Serena laughed and to her credit it did sound genuine but she couldn’t hide the pain that easily from him. The professor closed his eyes, remembering her tears before at the lab, they haunted him. “I hurt you so badly. Je suis profondément désolé, ma chere.”

Serena’s expression changed to something pained. She grasped his left hand and kissed the wound on his palm so ardently, the professor gasped in pain even though it wasn’t a physical ache. Serena then brought her hand to his cheek, where she had scratched him and leaned forward to kiss him there where she wounded him. With her lips on his skin, he wondered just what he had done to deserve such open affection.

Serena was quiet as she responded sadly. “I’m sorry I scratched you. You were just trying to help me.” The guilt and shame in her features were agonizing him.

Augustine held her hands this time, gripping them and shaking his head at her. “I deserved it.” He pressed firmly.

“No, you didn’t. I didn’t understand, I should have seen how badly you were hurting.”

The professor was suddenly struck with a thought hard enough that it derailed the conversation. “What were you doing in my lab? You knew how dangerous it was.” He admonished her.

“I was protecting Lumiose City. I had to draw Lysandre away while others escaped.”

That explains everything, why Lumiose was so empty and why Lysandre had found her so easily. It all made sense now. “I see. Désolé.” The apology was for being upset, she had done the work he should have done.

“You shouldn’t be. You saved me. If you hadn’t done what you did, Lysandre would have killed me. You’re a very convincing actor though.” Serena tried to make light of the situation but it didn’t quite work as the professor squeezed his eyes shut at the memory.

They were quiet for a few more moments before Augustine spoke again. “…How did you survive the grunts?”

“Calem found me first.” She assured him, her confidence a welcome shift in tone. “He helped me fight the grunts and one defected, offering to report to Lysandre that they succeeded.”

Augustine fixed her hair gently. “Well done,” He praised honestly with a smile. “You’re my hero too, you know. Rushing in to save my life like you did. I’m very thankful.”

She hugged him tightly and buried her face in the crook of his neck. He returned her gesture with a hearty sigh, melting in her embrace. He was afraid that he would never have this again. She was so warm, so kind and alive and he was so grateful. He was being too overbearing, he thought, when he heard her quiet whimper.

“A-ah, right, this is yours.” Augustine panicked, pushing her off with a lopsided smile while pulling out her mega ring from his pocket.

“Oh, and this is yours.” Serena giggled while pulling out his own mega ring, though this was actually a ring and never used. That’s right, he left it in the coat he dropped on her unconscious body.

They both exchanged the items, Serena put his on his finger and Augustine slipped her bracelet back on her wrist. They shared a quiet laugh and slowly stilled, entirely aware of what they almost lost and how much they saved together. Her eyes were shining and beautiful and reflected the very sky above his head and he was so thankful he could live for this moment.

Serena leaned in slightly, and the professor pulled away in apprehension. His eyes flickered between her gaze and her sweet lips a few times, wondering if this was right, if he should, but seeing the hurt in her eyes, he gave in. Pulling her to him to give a searing kiss. He pulled away and he saw agony in her expression and kissed her again, willing that pain to go away.

The professor stopped when Serena sobbed into the kiss. “I thought I lost you.” She cried, gripping the lapels of his team flare uniform.

Augustine drew her slowly into a tight embrace, he pressed his cheek to hers, wanting to feel the warmth of her skin on his to ensure she was still alive. “I should be saying that. I feared the same. I was so distraught...”

They stayed like that for some time, enjoying their new found freedom with each other. Until Serena sniggered at her own thoughts. “Well, we did something right. We both survived.”

Although Augustine agreed with her, they were both injured. How seriously, they’d figure it out after. “This is true, though we should probably seek medical attention.” Augustine winced in pain as his shoulder and collar felt like hell. His face, too. Scratch that, his entire body.

Serena seemed to empathize with his pain and rubbed his shoulder where she had seen Lysandre kick him. Augustine leaned into her touch as she consoled him. “Paramedics and stuff should be around here somewhere, I heard sirens.”

The professor couldn’t stop the scoff that escaped him. “Ah, we are incredibly far from the town center, it will take them time to find us.”

Serena rested her head on his chest. “I can live with that.” Her tender whisper made his heart clench tightly. A little more time with the both of them alone was honestly all he wanted right now, too. Augustine suddenly remembered vividly crying his heart out in the room when Lysandre had told him he had disposed of the woman in his arms. He truly feared her dead. It was a nightmare he never wanted to live through again.

Those thoughts encouraged him to be a little bolder in his actions. He was in pain but he grabbed Serena by her waist and placed her in his lap. “With you here, I can live through anything.” Augustine moaned dramatically to her, getting her to giggle happily but when Augustine tried to breathe deeply, his uniform was too tight. He groaned instead. “Except these clothes.”

Serena nodded her head sagely, scrutinizing the crimson regalia he wore with profound eyes. “It’s awful. Honestly, I really just want to rip them off of you.”

Augustine’s dispassionate face suddenly perked up, a surprised smile emerged on his face. “Is that so? Could you arrange for such a thing?” His mischievous tone may have been too much as she reeled backwards.

Serena’s expression was scandalized the moment she realized what she said, a mortified blush exploding on her cheeks. “T-that’s not what I meant!”

Augustine snickered softly, finding her shock to be entertaining and cuddled her in good humor. “I know what you meant. Red doesn’t suit me at all.” He chuckled, pressing his lips to her hair.

“As long- as long as you know...” She stuttered in embarrassment, he hummed his agreement into her hair lovingly.

Augustine sighed deeply and pulled back. “Are you sure you’re alright?” Serena nodded with a shrug. That was the best answer he was going to get from her, it seemed. “Then would you like to stay with me, in my lab… my home?” It was a significant offer, he knew, but he wanted to be with her.

The blush on her face dimmed a bit, but still colored her cheeks a sweet rose. “You wouldn’t mind having a stowaway?” She teased playfully.

Augustine shook his head. “I’d love one.” He assured her, tipping her chin up and pressing his lips to hers. A calming kiss for the both of them as they relaxed and waited to be inevitably found by their friends and return to Lumiose City. Together.

[sillytails-blog]

Marvel’s Spider-man Ps4

You swing me right round baby

This will be my longest review yet broken up into three sections. Spider-man sections, MJ, miles, and peter sections. and the open world exploration sections. Sorry in advance for how long this review will be!

Jumping into Marvel’s Spider-man my expectations could not have been higher. I wanted this game with every fiber of my being. Let me tell you boy oh boy did it live up to and far exceed my expectations. Taking control of a seasoned 24 year old spider man is a pure joy. No rehashing of a backstory, no uncle Ben death scene, no learning your powers. You start this game having fought and beaten most of all your iconic enemies and having formed many alliances already. Most all of your enemies are in the Raft prison and a few haven't even been realized yet such as Doc Oc and Green Goblin. You are still a poor man trying to scrape by and eek out a living, all the while saving New York from constant threats. Aunt may is in charge of the F.E.A.S.T organization which feeds and shelters the homeless around New York. You volunteer your spare time with her there and work for Dr Otto Octavius trying to find a way to help people with crippling disabilities.

Open world sections

This game has a bevy of side quests and objectives to tackle. Ranging from the repetitive to the ultra unique. At first you will only have access to finding backpacks hidden around the city, filled with objects from your past with brief little snippets of amazing dialogue attached to them. Finding radio towers to open up the map is the other activity you have from the get go. As the story progresses you will tend to research stations for Harry Osborn that will see you collection smog samples out of the air, curing fish in the ocean, busting open pipes with to much pressure. There are various bases to take on much in vain of Batman Arkham challenge rooms. Waves and waves of enemies will come at you and there is countless ways to dispatch of them. Random car chases, and criminal beat em ups are littered around the city. Unique side quests such as capturing pigeons, or bringing down the notorious gang leader Tombstone are a rare treat. The hardest challenges by a mile are the Taskmaster challenges and they made me insanely mad at times. You are expected to chase a drone in the air and hit his air waves, disarm three bombs in time, stealthily take down a number of guards. All these are on a heavy time constraint and seemed unfair each and every time. I did them but man was i raging when i was.

New York city itself is absolutely stunning. This could be called the best character in the game. From the top of real locations such as the empire state building, to the peak of fictional sections such as the avengers tower. Literally around every single corner there was something to marvel (ha get it) at. Swinging thru the concrete jungle was my favorite part of the game bar none. I could get lost hopping from roof top to roof top and taking in the sights for hours. The landmarks scattered around the city were numerous and wonderful.

Spider-man sections (story)

The game starts off very light hearted as you fill spider-mans tights for the first time. Wilson Fisk is your first target and you bring him down spectacularly. As you lock him up and send him off to the raft he warns that with him behind bars the city will turn to chaos and disorder. Does it ever. A brief fight with shocker follows inside a bank and the city seems at peace for a small while. Then the demons invade led by a mysterious leader you come to find out is Mr. Negative A.K.A Martin Li. The game becomes so dark and morbid so fast. I was blown away at a section of the game where a hero cop is awarded the medal of honor in a beautiful ceremony and Mr. Negative orders suicide bombers to blow up the affair, ruble and screams permeate the environment and my jaw was on the ground. Even at this games darkest the writing is unbelievable. I do not think this is a game for kids but as a fan of comics since i was little i could not help but love the more mature direction. The game eventually sees you at the Raft prison which is in total chaos and sees the Sinister Six escape. On full display is Scorpion, the Vulture, Electro, Rhino, Mr Negative, and Doc Oc. Each of their fights is astonishingly well done and i wish they lasted longer.

Scorpion’s section reminds me of Scarecrow sections from Batman. Rhino was a horrifying mass of super human barreling towards you with devastation in his eyes. Mr. Negative had one of the best boss batles ever, only toppled by the final fight with Doc Oc. The most interesting thing about all of these fights is the past that is shared between Spider-man and the villains. 

The game tugged on my heart strings way more than any other game since The Last of Us. You deeply care about Peter Parker and his friends and family. The game has two end credit scenes that i will not spoil for anyone as this is a must play game and you must see them for yourself! Insomniac did and amazing job of setting up the sequel though!

Human character sections

Playing as Peter, Mj, and Miles were for me the low point of the game. I say low point but a low point in a mountain of gold is still very much so gold. It was a lot of sneaking around as Mj and Miles waiting for the right time to make a move. The story aspect of the sections added a lot to the game itself but the game play sections of them were bland. At the end Mj gets a taser and that offers some fun tasering the crap out of silver sables guards (by the way silver sable is in the game she alright). Miles has the best story elements in his sections really adding depth to his character. There is one section with Mj also where you direct spider-man to attack enemies and that was pretty amazing. Playing as peter was the most fun of the three because of the side objectives in Doc Oc’s lab. Piecing together DNA fragments to find a chemical was so much fun as was the re-circuting mini-game. Also Peter’s relationship with Mj was full and enriching to see play out, As was his heartbreak at watching his mentor and idol Doctor Octavius become evil.

Verdict

Marvel’s Spider-man is as of this writing my Game of the year (Which i believe Smash bros ultimate will beat but only time will tell). It is everything i wanted in a video game and so much more. I cannot say anything else about it other than go and play this yourself!

Platinumed

I did platinum this game and it only took me 30 hours to do so. Decent amount of time i think and i cannot wait for the DLC.

Final Score 10/10

Positives

Graphics

New York

Story

Combat

[sarah-bae-maas]

A Court of Hearts and Darkness Chapter Twenty Seven

It’s been over a century since the epic and bloody war against Hybern, but a new, unprecedented horror lies in wait to threaten everything the Inner Circle holds dear.

At a mere 17, it seems that the only one who can save them is the Heir to the Night Court, Feyre and Rhysand’s daughter Eleana, but as a creature so vile promises to kill everyone she loves, she must combat the urge to succumb to the darkness herself. The key to success lies hidden within her mate, the bastard born Kaden, who is as oblivious to the bond as her Court is oblivious to the war on the horizon.

With the help of her cousin and warrior Felix, the son of the famed Nesta and Cassian, they will try to save everything they hold dear, hopefully before the darkness takes them all.

(This fic was written pre-acowar, so please bear in mind there are some small differences but it can still hopefully be enjoyed!)

Link on Ao3 Masterlist

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***

-Chapter 27- 

She ran her hand down his hair, enjoying the feather like feel of his brunette locks. Her claws sometimes caught in it, blood making the brown strands stick together. His glassy, lifeless hazel eyes were stuck in the direction of the ceiling, and she was tempted to press the pads of her digits against them to make them look at her, but she didn’t want to accidently pierce them.

He was pretty – not as handsome as the gold one, and that had been his ultimate downfall. Not just that, but the heir just loved his so much.

His death would ruin her.

Which is what she’d wanted – what she needed.

_____

 Eleana felt like she was sinking.

Her heart rate had slowed and been overly rapid at unpredictable intervals since it had happened. Since she’d realised her cousin, brother, best friend, was never coming home. She forever felt like she was sinking. Her arms were swords being slid into their sheaths. Her legs were oaks being taken down from the swing of an axe. Her chest was a corset being bound a tight as it could go. Time has slowed from the beat of a hummingbird’s wings to the hesitant last gasp before someone drowned.

She was not ready to face the consequences of Felix not being here. She didn’t know how she would put her smashed, porcelain-self back together if he wasn’t there to pick up the pieces. As he had done so many times before.

And as she looked into the exhausted eyes of her mate, she couldn’t bring herself to say anything other than, “Where have you been?”

He swallowed hard, his hands twitching like he wanted to rest them on her, but didn’t have the courage to.

“It’s been nearly two days,” she continued.

He didn’t answer, so she turned away from him.

He had come to find her, he’d said. Used his magic to bring him to this cabin sequestered so very far away from everything else.

When he’d knocked on the door, Eleana was unsuccessfully trying to sleep. Her mother, wary it was something sinister, opened the door ready to attack, only to pull up short when she saw Kaden.

To give them privacy, she went to Velaris to help the High Lord with Cassian and Nesta, but not before laying wards strong enough to keep out an army.

Her hands were braced on a stained table, her face as limp as her unwashed hair. She observed him, since he wouldn’t speak. He had bathed at some point, his skin clean but wan. He was in a loose shirt and pants, his feet bare. And, trailing down his arms like vines encasing him, were Illyrian tattoos. On his arms, the swirls, flowers and ancient words were so extensive his fingers were even decorated. As severe as it was, it was not harsh – much like the male bearing them. She wondered what tattoos covered his chest.

She took a hesitant step toward him, his face blank. He hadn’t let her in his mind yet, had their bond blocked so strongly that she would have to invade him to see what he was thinking. But… she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to put her grief into him, or to take his away. She wanted them to share, but she didn’t know how she could possibly handle feeling twice as bad as she did now.

“Did you know,” she said to fill the silence, “that my mother can no longer paint her father? As much as she loves him, she can no longer remember his face. He is a blur, with no finer details or anything to distinguish him. She knows his eyes, but that’s all.”

She took another step towards her mate.

“I’m scared that one day I’ll wake up and I won’t be able to picture his face anymore. Or that I won’t remember the exact way his voice sounds.” One more step, and she was close enough to him that he could reach her if he wanted.

He lifted his arm, and trailed his thumb down her cheek, resting his hand on her neck. “Do you blame me for what happened?” he whispered.

She rested her hand over his. “No.”

He moved his hand to her waist, pulling her to him. He wrapped his arms around her, and she leant into his chest and breathed deeply – for the first time in days.

“Good. Because I’ll need your help to eviscerate those creatures and whatever is controlling them.”

_____

 “He’s safe, but I wouldn’t say he’s okay. But who of us is?”

Azriel hung onto every word, grateful that Kaden had made an appearance somewhere. Would he have preferred the young one come to him first? Yes. But at least now someone has seen him.

“And Eleana?” he asked Feyre.

“She’s not coping – at all. She hasn’t slept yet, changes between forms unwillingly and without notice, and is constantly either distressed or just… empty.”

“She’ll feel better once we’ve moved into action. The High Lords will be here in four days.” Four days for their family to be in control enough to tell the other courts what had happened, and to devise a plan to eradicate these creatures. Azriel, with all his wisdom and knowledge, didn’t know where to start.

“And the recon teams?”

“Enough survived to get us a specimen, but there are a lot of families who will be in mourning.”

Feyre nodded at his words.

They’re conversation ended with Feyre squeezing his shoulder, leaving the library of the House of Wind to join her sisters in the atrium.

Azriel wanted to help his brother and Nesta, desperately, but he didn’t know how. He himself could barely comprehend what had happened. It had yet to hit him. He had yet to have the breakdown that was expected of him, he hadn’t yet cried, he hadn’t yet stopped being surprised when he walked into a room without Felix in it.

Maybe if he’d had a body his grief would surface quicker, but right now he just felt nothing. Like he was a void. Resigned. Every few minutes, his chest would tighten and his breath would quicken and he’d think, okay now. Now I’m going to cry, get mad, scream. And then the feeling would pass, and he’d blink away the tears that never fell and would continue trying to find justice for his nephew.

He’d dealt with the fallout of the Bloodrite for Rhys. The Illyrians lords were horrified and furious, and had all fortified their camps and doubled patrols to be on alert for any creatures. They were not aware of Felix’s death – no one but the Inner Circle was, and it would remain that way for the time being. It would cause an uncontrollable panic not only among the Illyrians, but also the fae.

Because Felix was dead. Felix Warbringer, set to be the most powerful Illyrian ever born, had been killed by these creatures.

Azriel had been with Cassian when Rhys told their brother of the news. And it was devastating. Cass tried to go into the mountains to try and save his son, had begged his brothers to let him go – he had to go to his boy. He had to. He would be scared if he was alone in the dark. And he would be fine if his father was there with him. Cassian could find a way to bring him back.

He’d thought them tooth and nail until he had collapsed, no strength left in his body.

And then there was Nesta.

Azriel could count how many times he had seen her cry on one hand, and now she had cried more than the amount of leaves in a forest. The most pained, choked wails he had ever heard. She had beaten her fists bloody against the ground in anger and agony, all her fingers breaking at the impacts; the only thing that stopped her from imploding and destroying herself was the sound of Theodosia’s cries as the babe awoke. Nesta wiped the blood off her hands, let Elain heal her broken bones, then calmly walked to the nursey, picking up Thea and cradling her daughter to her chest. Her face had gone gaunt, and the colour had leaked out of her.

Maybe the reason Azriel struggled to show emotion was because even though he loved Felix with all his heart, the boy had come to detest him. Did Azriel have any right to grieve?

Azriel wished he could stay in the library and hide away, but he couldn’t. His family was relying on him.

He dragged his feet as he walked to join the rest of them, Mor summoning them all for lunch. None of them felt well enough to eat, but his wife would force feed them if she had to.

Azriel also needed to start preparing for the onslaught he would get at the High Lord’s meeting, namely, what do you mean you knew about this already? What do you mean you stopped looking for the creatures? How could you let this happen?

Azriel had no choice but to now accept everything his niece and nephews had presented to him about the creatures as fact – which meant they had also been working in other courts. Cauldron, Eleana had been taken by this ‘Colloden’ in another court.

Mor had brought sandwiches and tea on a cart, handing them out on china plates to the family. Quathryn, uninterested in the gourmet treats, had settled for sprinkles on buttered bread. The girl had no idea what was going on – only that everyone was far sadder than usual.

He let her be, not wanting the dark, ghastly shadows that had been haunting him since the death of his nephew to bother her.

He took a seat next to his brothers on a bench overlooking the window facing Velaris, matching their silence. Everyone was here, except Kaden and Eleana. He hoped they were sleeping, he doubted his boy would be able to without his mate there.

The thought of Kaden tore at him – the boy he had come to think of as a son. A boy who had finally gotten a brother that loved and cared for him the way a brother should, only for some sick, twisted turn of events to take him away.

“You’ve heard from Kaden?” Azriel overheard Nesta say in a whisper, the woman squeezing her fingers into Feyre’s arm.

“He’s with Eleana – he showed up out of nowhere,” Feyre replied, covering Nesta’s hand with her own.

“And Felix?” Nesta’s eyes were so wide with hope.

Feyre shook her head. “No, Nesta.”

Her face fell, fresh tears starting to line her cheeks.

Nesta had an insane hope when Kaden didn’t come back, that maybe it was because he had gone back into the mountain to revive Felix, the way he had Thea. Feyre, as soothingly as she could, said she didn’t know much about Kaden’s peculiar magic, but she doubted the circumstances were similar enough for it to happen again. Theodosia had been a stillborn – Felix was…

Mauled.

But that didn’t stop Nesta from hoping.

Cassian didn’t share her belief.

Azriel couldn’t bear to look at Nesta any longer, and turned his head away. Cassian also stayed quiet during the exchange.

He prayed for the moment when Elain and Lucien returned from the Spring Court, from explaining what had happened to Felix to Glaslane – the pair had been close for a time. Elain was still Nesta’s most effective form of comfort.

Azriel’s attention was caught by a tentative knock at the door – an overly loud noise in a room full of very quiet people.

“Who is it?” Rhys called, standing and positioning himself in front of Cassian.

“It’s me, Papa, and Kaden.” Eleana opened the door and peaked her head in.

Azriel flinched at the dark crescents under her eyes and the paleness to her face.

“We didn’t want to disturb anyone.”

Rhys waved her in, greeting her with a tight hug. Behind her, Kaden shuffled in, his head hanging low and his shoulders slumped.

Azriel got to his feet and moved towards him, stopping when he saw the Illyrian tattoos covering his arms.

Kaden noticed his gaze, and self-consciously rubbed at his skin.

Azriel shook his head, not caring that his boy got the tattoos he’d deserved, but he was saddened that the thought of Kaden going through such an emotionally tumultuous experience alone.

“Kaden? Hey, buddy. Want some food?” Azriel approached him with one hand one, gently patting him on the head.

“No, thank you,” he murmured. “I – I have something to tell you.”

“Do you want to go somewhere?”

“No, I – It’s for everyone.”

Azriel led him further inside, letting Kaden choose when to speak, the young man’s black eyes sweeping the room. His stare stopped on Quathryn, fingers stained like a rainbow from her sprinkles, mouth full of bread and books and toys scattered on the floor around her.

His face crumpled, and he strode towards the tot, leaning down and picking her up so he could hug her.

“Kaden!” she cheered, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck.

“Hi, Little One,” he sniffled.

Everyone in the room had stopped what they were doing to look at Kaden and Quathryn.

Quathryn leaned in and whispered something in his ear. It was so faint that Azriel could barely make out what she was saying, but he got the gist of it.

Do you know where Lis is?

Kaden said no, and hugged her closer to him. Quathryn seemed content to just have cuddle time, laying her head on him and not asking any further for her brother.

Cassian had tried to tell her, but Quathryn was too young to truly understand what he was saying – the permanence of Felix being gone.

“What was it you had to tell us?” Azriel prompted him.

Kaden kept a hold of Quathryn while he spoke, swaying her slightly. “I talked to Felix, and there are some things he wanted me to relay to you.”

Everyone flung out of their chairs, surrounding him with pressing questions.

What do you mean you talked to him?

I thought you weren’t there when he died?

What did he say?

How can that be?

Azriel’s family wasn’t as versed in Kaden’s magic as he was, with the exception of Eleana, and he could scarcely remember if he’d ever mentioned Kaden’s ability to connect with the dead.

Kaden recoiled away from there badgering questions, but before Azriel could ask them to give him some space, Eleana butted in, fury scorched in her expression.

“You spoke to Felix? For how long?” Her tone was so scathing the others quietened.

“Until dawn, the day after,” Kaden said nervously.

Eleana gritted her teeth, her voice a low growl when she said under her breath, “You mean to tell me you had hours with him, and didn’t think to summon anyone? To let anyone else say goodbye?”

“Eleana.” Kaden looked stricken.

“You could have told me to come and I would’ve been there in a second-”

“How-”

“You damn well know. You could’ve brought the wall down between the bond anytime you fucking pleased. You could have let me say goodbye to him. You could have let anyone here have their final peace with him. He was my best friend. Through you I could’ve seen him. I could have told him I loved him. You – you – I can’t believe you didn’t tell me to come.”

Azriel believed Kaden would’ve gone to her if he hadn’t been holding Quathryn, who was now alert and looking at Eleana with worry.

“You were in such a bad state-”

She snarled at him, a noise to low and feral that Cassian came forward and grabbed Quathryn from Kaden, scared Eleana might lose control and accidently hurt her. Which was valid, as while Eleana growled her skin changed its form and colour, her teeth elongating and her and her pupils widening.

It never took long for Eleana’s mood to change, and with her exhaustion and despair combined her mood was rapidly changing. Azriel stood back, not wanting to interfere with the mates.

“What did he have to say then, huh? That only you were privy to,” she spat.

“He said he loves you, and that no one here, especially you, is to blame for this.” Kaden turned to Cassian and Nesta. “You told me to tell you that he will forever be indebted to you for raising him with such strength, and for teaching him to be kind. His family is the most important thing to him, and his biggest regret is not being able to see Quathryn grow and become the sassiest little thing Velaris has seen since the High Lord’s last hissy fit.” Kaden turned to Rhys, a sheepish look on his face. “I’m quoting.”

Rhys bowed his head.

“He hopes you’ll tell stories of him to Thea,” Kaden continued. “He doesn’t want to be a stranger to her, even if she’ll never remember any of the time she had with him.”

Cassian, holding Quathryn in one arm, reached the other out to Nesta, circling it around her and Thea. “How did he tell you these things?” His voice deathly quiet.

“I can confer with the dead. It’s how I helped Thea, kind of. That was different, but this I have been able to do my whole life.”

“Is he still there?” Nesta asked, the hope that had vanished reigniting in her eyes.

“No,” Kaden didn’t leave her hanging, not wanted to be a source of false hope.

“Are you sure?” she pleaded with him.

“Yes. I’m sorry. He’s moved on to a place where even I can’t find him.”

Nesta’s breath shook, and she motioned for Kaden to continue.

He told them all the things Felix had shared with him – only withholding the information meant for specific people. He said the funny stories and the melancholy ones. At one point, he looked at the High Lord and Lady apologetically and said, “When Eleana was four months old, Felix dropped her. He said it explains an awful lot.”

Rhys and Feyre had burst out laughing, which immediately turned to tears. At least Quathryn’s twinkling giggles joined in momentarily.

Eleana remained in half in her other form the entire conversation, not looking at Kaden, even when he tried to speak with her.

When he had finished, Nesta was sobbing again, and Cassian took her away to try and calm her, bringing the children with him. Quathryn waved to Kaden as she left, and it was the only thing that could have possibly made Kaden genuinely smile that day.

Mor approached Kaden and took him into her arms, tears of her own falling.

Azriel watched Eleana turn to steal as she watched Mor and Kaden and Feyre and Rhys. Her fists were clenched so tightly her knuckles were stark against her skin, and her face had flushed red in anger. The stories from Kaden had not thawed the sudden anger for her mate, and Azriel wished he was still in a position where she’d want his help.

But maybe it was on him to try harder – to show her more that he was sorry.

He proceeded cautiously towards her, but he wasn’t the only one to have the idea. Kaden separated from Mor, extending his tattooed hands towards Eleana.

Mid-step, Kaden faltered like he’d hit an invisible barrier. Trying again, he hit another wall, and put his hands up, resting them flat against an invisible shield. He banged his hand on the wall, trying to dismantle it.

“Eleana?”

The others watched as he called her name, unable to breach her shield.

“You once used my eyes to save someone we love; I would’ve expected you to grant me the same curtesy to say goodbye to a person I love. You should have called me. You should have let me hear these stories from him.”

Eleana stalked to the window, her wings flaring and preparing for flight.

Rhys and Feyre became immediately alarmed, and stood in her way to stop her.

“Laya, Butterfly where are you going?” Feyre asked, concern lacing her every word.

“Away from here. I can’t think; I can’t breathe – not here.”

Rhys blocked the window, keeping her inside. Azriel walked to his side, knowing it was a bad idea to try and trap her inside but also knowing if she left she would be a loose bomb ready to explode.

“Come with me, let’s go to the townhouse, or back to the cabin if you want.”

“Get out of my way.”

“Laya.”

She growled, a noise far more animal than fae, and disappeared.

Azriel baulked at where she had just been standing, shock palpitating from everyone in the room.

“Where did she go?” Kaden questioned.

“She… she winnowed away.” Feyre’s mouth was agape, her eyes wide.

“She does it all the time – no reason to be surprised. I’ll find her, it won’t take me long.”

“No, Kaden, the wards on the House of Wind mean no winnowing. It is physically, and magically impossible for her to do so.”

“She must have removed the wards.”

“She didn’t, I can still feel them here – intact,” Mor said.

Rhys turned to Feyre and sighed. “Looks like she’s more powerful than we thought. That’s okay, though, I always knew our little Butterfly would be something special. We better go find her.”

Kaden opened his mouth as if to offer his services, but Rhys shut him down with a glare. “You stay here. You’re not what she needs right now.”

The pair left, leaving Azriel with his wife and the closest thing to a son he’d ever had.

“Let’s go home,” Mor exhaled. “Cassian and Nesta need space, and we all need to sleep. The night will bring an unprecedented darkness tonight.”

____

 Night had fallen; Kaden had yet to sleep, and Eleana had yet to be found. Mor and Az joined the search for her, only going once Kaden convinced them too. They didn’t want to leave him, but he assured them that he would be okay. He thought he might sleep, but when he tried he felt too light without the weight of Eleana with him.

He had a notebook in front of him, and was trying to write out every word Felix had said to him. His hands were shaking, making his writing messy but decipherable. He would one day give this book to Quathryn and Thea – Felix would be no stranger to them.

As he was writing, there was a quiet knock at the door. Curious as to who it could be, Kaden heaved himself from his seat, padding to the foyer to meet whoever had come over. He opened the door, and was surprised to see Cassian with his two daughters, holding Quathryn by the hand and Thea in his arm.

“Hello, Kaden. Can you get Azriel for me?”

Kaden’s nose wrinkled; Cassian smelt like sweat and grot – like death.  

“He’s not here right now. They’re still looking for Eleana.” Which Kaden was bitter he wasn’t invited to. He could find her easily – it was the only thing his body seemed to want to do. Kaden had tried to reopen the bond with her, but now she was the one keeping him away – which he justly deserved. Eleana was right, he hadn’t thought to summon her so she could say goodbye to her cousin, and now he felt retched about it.

Cassian’s chest fell. “Okay.” He nodded, taking a step back.

That’s when Kaden noted the small bag he was wearing on his back. “Did you need something? I might be able to help.”

“I just needed Az for the night, it’s okay though,” Cassian said slowly.

The older male took a step back, Quathryn swaying with the movement, her little body drained of energy.

“Why don’t you come inside?” Kaden insisted. “I’ll make us some tea, and Quathryn can sleep in my bed if she’d like. And I’m sure I could also scrounge up a cot somewhere.”

Cassian looked thoughtful, then nodded his head.

Kaden let them in, picking Quathryn up and taking her to his room. She was asleep before they were even up the stairs, and he tucked her in nice and tight, wanting her to get as much rest as she could.

He couldn’t find a crib, so instead he emptied his biggest basket and made it into a makeshift bassinet. He went back for Thea, and Cassian reluctantly handed her over, the infant also asleep.  He made them tea, and it lived untouched from Cassian on the table in front of him.

Kaden didn’t know what to say to him – how could you possibly comfort a father grieving for his dead son?

Kaden sat across from him, averting his gaze from the haggard looking General. Cassian also stayed quiet, an awkward tension rising in the room from lack of words. Kaden wished he had the charm and tact of Eleana or Felix, then maybe he would know what to do. There was a many great thing he wished he had said to Felix before he’d said goodbye, and one of those things should’ve been a demand for Felix to tell him how he was supposed to survive in this damned world without him.

“Do you have any idea when Mor and Az will be back?” Cassian broke through the silence, his voice rough.

“No. Can I help at all?”

His shoulders were hunched, and his feet tapped against the chair leg. “I just-” Cassian cut himself off, shuddering a sigh. “I love my children more than I love anything, but Nesta and I… right now we’re not the best people to be around, and I’m starting to worry that it’ll effect the girls. One night. I swear, I was only going to ask him to care for them for a single night, so Nesta could sleep.”  Cassian blinked furiously, his teeth biting at his lip in an effort to hide his tears from Kaden.

Kaden wasn’t the only one feeling retched. It was easy to tell how guilty Cassian felt about giving his daughters to Azriel, even of it was for the best. And Kaden could see that it was. When he had seen Cassian and Nesta earlier, he had been genuinely afraid. Her clothes were frayed at the sleeves from where she had ripped them in her anxiety, and Cassian looked like he could barely stand upright.  But however they looked, Kaden could feel how the heartbreak and anger that beheld them had the power to strike through anyone. If turned in the wrong direction, as emotions often were in these times, it could be dangerous. It made him want to grab Eleana and run.

His mind and body yearned for the comfort of his Eleana. To know that she was safe with him – the only place he trusted her to be. Without her here, or knowing where she was, Kaden had an itch in his fingers that made his want to rip at flesh and destroy lives – especially the ones that had caused her so much pain.

“There is no weakness in asking for help, General Cassian.”

Kaden believed, wholeheartedly, that if they all knew how to better ask for help, then none of this would have happened.

____

 It took Eleana a while to find the familiar entrance, even though the image was burned in her retinas.

When she had first been here, her stomach had been twisting with nerves, making her more nauseous than she had ever been. She’d been digging into the earth with her feels – the tracks still there – and the only reason she hadn’t stormed inside the mountains themselves was because her parents were there and had forbade her to do so. Their arguments had been logical, so she had listened.

Eleana had come to realise that the moment Kaden had shut her out was the moment he first saw Felix. Before that, he had welcomed her in his mind, telling her he loved her, how much he wanted to see her again. When he’d slammed up the titanium wall between them her sternum felt like it was being crushed.

Then, he walked out unscathed, and she’d run to him. What else would she have done?

She’s wanted to thank her cousin profusely for saving her mate, but when she’d turned to speak to him he was not there.

Eleana stood directly in front of the entrance, not daring to look into its black abyss. Instead, she looked upwards at the stars, her hair scratching her face as the wind lightly blew.

The distant smell of pine blew through the air – jarringly pleasant in this place of nightmares.

With no small amount of courage, Eleana set her eyes on the darkness ahead, her throat tight and dry as she spoke.

“Felix?” she murmured. “Are you still here?”

She knew Kaden had said he was gone, but he had yet to master his magic – much like her. Even if the chance to see her cousin again was minimal, she would take it.

“I don’t expect to see you, I just… I miss you. If you’re here, and Cauldron I wish you are, just give me a sign. Anything.”

Her eyes started to string, and her darkness threatened to lash out again. She could feel it inside her like it was simmering just under her skin, pushing and prodding upwards trying to be free.

She lowered herself to the ground, fisting the dirt that surrounded her. Pulverizing it between her fingers, she lashed out and threw a handful of it at the cave entrance with a scream. She bit her lip to restrain herself, so hard that it drew blood, the red dripping down her chin.

She rubbed at her face, not caring if she smudged herself with dirt, trying to clear her scattered mind.

There were constant knocks in her direction, her parents and Kaden, but she didn’t feel like letting anyone in. In all her times of anguish her only true coping method had been Felix. She didn’t have that now, and all she craved was to hear his voice again –  to laugh with him – to get the goodbye that Kaden had.

Was she really mad that her mate hadn’t summoned her, or was she just mad at the world for doing such a horrid thing to such a pure person? She did not know, and she did not mind her fury. Her fury was fuelling her magic, and her magic would help end all this. Once the High Lords and Ladies had met and they formed a plan on how to eradicate these creatures, Eleana would be more than valuable.

That’s if they could ever find the creatures.

There were just so many unanswered questions. Who was doing this? These creatures didn’t just appear out of nowhere, and they acted with such intention that it was impossible to believe that they were anything but puppets to some string master. All attacks had occurred within the past few years, with more and more happening in recent times. What was truly petrifying was that if not for the Impeath attack on Felix so long ago, they never would have known about the creatures at all. Yes, Eleana may have been taken by the Colloden, but she never would have made the connections about the bed time tales.

“Felix,” she whispered to nothing, knowing he was gone, “I love you, and I would sell my soul to see you again. To have a chance to say goodbye.” Her voice broke on the last word, and the tears she had never been able to hold back swelled again. She was lost; she didn’t know where to turn. Her heart ached when she thought of Kaden, and she loved him so damn much but that didn’t mean she wasn’t furious with him for not thinking of her the way she would have him – for not giving her a goodbye.

“You told me to stay safe, Felix, but you were my unfaltering anchor, no matter how rough the seas were. I’ve never had a day where I couldn’t turn to you, since we were children you were my most trusted, most loyal friend.”

Deep in the pit of her stomach, she felt anxiety curling at the thought of forgetting a single detail about her brother. It gripped her like a choke hold, and her breath started faltering and her mind started wondering, her nerves sparking negatives thoughts that further stoked the fire that was her mind.

Eleana recognized to herself that sitting here at night was likely a terrible idea, but she made no effort to move. Rather, she lied down, resting her head on her hands facing the entrance.

Her eyelids drooped, and there was some sick joke in the fact that the only place she could finally sleep was when she was as close to Felix’s body as she could get.

She let her eyes close, only a small part nagging at her that this was dangerous. But a larger part, a part forged by fatigue and woe, told her to stay, because how could something worse possibly happen?

As Eleana drifted, the path into the entrance was eerily quiet. You could not hear the creatures that lurked in the mountains caverns, nor any animals that would usually take refuge in this area. There were no Illyrians, all guarding their homes and trusting the wards of the High Lord and Lady to lock the beasts inside.

Her tears subsided, hiding away for the time being, preserving themselves until her next panic attack or nightmare. She let her body sink into the ground, succumbing to the day, keeping her mind closed and quiet. The air smelt sweet from distant trees and flowers, and she detested how peaceful it was. The wind was a welcoming caress on her skin, and now maybe she would sleep.

And then the snap of a twig breaking, and Eleana’s eyes flew open as she skidded to her feet, watching as a dark figure glided out from the mountain. It was black and languid, claws to rival that of an Impeath. It had a gleaming smile on its face, its teeth like daggers piercing through its mouth. But the most frightening, the thing that made Eleana’s heart quicken and back sweat, was its bright, molten golden eyes.

“Eleana of the Night Court, I’ve been waiting for you. And I can give you what you want.”

[justanotherbuckydevotee]

lostmyhead - part 3

Word Count: 2,580  words. Prompt : Lovecraftian – Horrible and indescribable platonic love. Or in which you don’t know how to deal with your emotions. Warning(s): Angst. Reader being selfish (im sorry) A/N: SO LIKE IDK . My Final next submission for @hellomissmabel‘s 2k Birthday Celebration. Happy reading! Any feedback/criticism would be welcomed (like seriously this got out of control pls tell me what you think i don’t mind if its gonna hurt me). ps this isnt proofread. its 1.27 am and i have class in the morning im sorry for any mistakes! 

masterlist || series page  The Prologue || Part 1 || part 2 || Part 3 || part 4 

** gif not mine ** 

It’s late at night (or was it really early morning?) when Bruce comes out of one of the operating room, bringing good news about the other super-soldier of the Avengers team.

“It’s a strong sedative. Any normal human being could’ve been killed with the amount he was given, but he’ll be okay” Bruce explains, making Steve release a sigh that’s been constricting his chest, tightening his shoulders when he waited.

“He’ll wake up soon” Bruce adds, “I suggest only a couple of you at a time. He’ll be a little…” he continues, a hand gesturing to his head as he waves it around in circles. “Confused” he finishes his sentence.

A moment of silence follows, a heavy stillness that nobody dared to move, one other question lingering in their heads but are too scared to ask.

“And (y/n)?”

Bruce takes off the glasses that was perched on the bridge of his nose, fidgeting with it. There was no delicate way to deliver the news about you. “She’s… They’re still in the operating room”

Everyone held their breathe.

“The wound on her leg is easy. But the one on her hip is complicated. We don’t know if it’ll affect her ability to walk, whether it’s temporary or permanent. The injury she sustained on her head is” Bruce pauses, still not looking up at his team mates.

“It’s difficult to assess” he words.

Again, silence. Nobody knew what to say, trying to process everything that’s been said.

“Thank you” Steve breaks the heavy air with his words, before taking long strides to Bucky’s room. Bruce could only nod, eyes following the trail of Steve until the door to Bucky’s room is gently closed. It’s only after that did he look to the eyes of each of his team mates.

Wanda is biting her fingernails, a distant look in her eyes with an arm crossed against her chest. Sam is leaning against the wall deep in thought, his engineered backpack on the ground of his feet. Clint is right next to Natasha, both looking solemn.

“You guys should rest for a bit. It’s been a long day”. With that, he leaves.

Clint is mumbling words to Natasha, encouraging her to change and rest as he waits for more news of you. She’s shaking her head in protest. Sam looks utterly exhausted as he brings his hand over to his forehead.

“You guys should go. I’ll wait here” Wanda announces, taking a step from where she was only to look over the others. “I’ll come get you if anything happens” she continues, speaking to them but her eyes fully locked with Nat’s.

It’s all she can offer, and with what the day had entailed. Wanda was relieved to see them one by one caving into the need of their bodies. Natasha was the last to go, whispering tiredly to Wanda “please get me first, okay?”.

The smell of alcohol and medicine made Wanda feel all the more anxious, as she sits on the edge of her seat, waiting for more news. Her eyes kept going to the double-doors whenever a staff came in or out, scrubs slightly stained before disappearing down the end of the hallway before re-appearing again with a medical cart. She clasped her hands tightly, almost as if in prayer when Steve comes out of Bucky’s room. He looked drained but he can’t make it show that’s he’s actually scared right now, not when the youngest Avenger is sitting across the operating theatre alone.

“Hey” Steve greets, taking the seat next to her. “Why aren’t you in your bed? It’s late” “I promised them I’ll wait”

He could only nod.

“How’s Bucky?” “He’s okay. He’s finally asleep”

The double-doors swing, a team of doctors and nurses filing out, a gatch bed with machines and wires tangled with each other and on it is you. They’re pulling you to a room next to Bucky, passing by Steve and Wanda. Their eyes fall on you; head wrapped with a bandage, a breathing ventilator tube down your throat, eyes closed shut.

Dr. Cho stops in front of them both, still in her scrubs and begins explaining what Bruce couldn’t manage to tell them.

“It’s the only thing I could do. I’m sorry” Dr. Cho mumbles, eyes shining with guilt. Steve is quick to react calmly, saying “You’ve done everything you could”. She looks at Steve for a moment, as if wanting to disagree. She felt she could do more, but the brain is the most complex organ of the whole human anatomy. She blinks, looks down, then moves her feet to her office.

Wanda stayed with you long after Steve has left, suggesting he should rest up too. Dragging a chair closer to you, she places her hand gently on yours, breathing in deeply as she closes her eyes.

There’s somebody behind her, a translucent shape.

“Why aren’t you coming back?” Wanda asked without turning around. She knows who it is.

“I had someone to find first” the figure said, taking slow steps to stand before Wanda. Her palm reaches Wanda’s shoulder, but it can’t really reach her, can’t physically place her touch in this world. A mere ghost of a being.

“But Bucky is back” Wanda announces, head finally turning to see you. The one in front of Wanda now looked better than the one laying on the bed. “So why can’t you return?”

You give her a weak smile. “I’m not too sure I want to come back this time, Wan” you confess.

You take her stunned silence as your cue to continue, to explain. “When I didn’t see him, when I thought he was gone, I couldn’t see anything worth fighting for. I would’ve gladly let that agent do whatever he wanted to me”

“It’s when I realized how much I cared for him. Deeply. More than just friends who look out for one another. More than just friends who understand each other. I don’t ever want to know how it feels like to lose him after this. But he can’t” you stop yourself, eyes closed shut to try and calm yourself from the on-coming wave of emotions that would undoubtedly have an effect on your physical body.

“If I come back, what good would having this feeling do to me? He has someone now; he has Yvy, Wan, and I’m so happy that he’s finally happy” you continue, sadness marring your facial features. “But it also pains me because I won’t ever have that with him. I’ll just be his friend, sure someone he cares about, but not the one he loves”

“But he does love you, (y/n). Can you not see that?” Wanda retaliates. “He doesn’t… he doesn’t love me like I want him to”

Wanda is trying to understand what you’re saying, trying to process the idea of you not coming back to this world, to this team, back home. She feels a painful twist in her chest, pricking her heart.

“So you’re just going to leave?” she asked. She had to. It felt like losing Pietro again, but the difference here is that Pietro didn’t have a choice. You did. You could come home, deal with whatever it is you’re feeling instead of running away. The pricking in her heart suddenly changes to simmering anger; you had the option to live and yet here you were deciding to be a coward and run. She hated you for wanting this, for having an option.

“You’re going to be a coward, and leave us?” she pushes when you’ve yet to answer. The air is thick now once realization dawns on you at how selfish you were being. Wanda abruptly stands up, the chair pushed forcefully behind her.

“It’s your choice. Say hi to Pietro for me”

This goes on for days; you remain in your astral form, looking down at your body as it rests and heal. You spend most your time confined here, not wanting to leave far with the fear that someone –or something sinister, decides to take your unprotected physical form as its host.

The last time you interacted was when Wanda closed the door to your room, leaving you to wallow in her last painful words.

“Say hi to Pietro for me”

So you stay. You stay and watch the aftermath of what would be if you decide to leave. Wanda is the only one who knows of your ability.

You smile faintly at how she discovered, or rather how you decided to reveal your secret to her. She was devastated at the loss of her twin, the speedster you always hear about from Clint, during the weeks you first met her.

“Did you hear that?” Bucky asked just as his hand grasped the knob of your door. You quirk an eyebrow at him before shaking your head, slightly confused. He moves his head closer to your door and for a moment he stays like that. You stand up as quietly as you could, fearing something bad was going on outside when Bucky has yet to say anything.

“Bu-“ his name barely comes out of your mouth when he raises a hand to your direction, his lips mouthing ‘sshhh’. A moment of total silence follows before the worry in his eyes disappear, his features softening before he looks at you.

He hesitates for a moment, but then decides to say “I think someone’s crying”

Immediately you walk over to him, peeling your door and motioning for him to stay there. Even though you absolutely hated being the mother hen –believing the title is rightfully Steve’s, you did have a tendency to act like one. So you tiptoed your way up the hallway, straining your ears to pick up the muffled sobs from one of the doors.

You stop dead in your tracks when you find the source.

It’s Wanda.

Bucky, who ignores your request to stay put, looks at you anxiously. You lick your lips, unsure whether you should go in or knock on her door. Clint has told you about this, had told you to look out for her during the times he wasn’t there. He’d given you a list of things that help her mind off of it, and one of the things he suggests doing was to just be by her side.

So that’s what you did. You found her curled at the corner of her room, in her arms an article of clothing. Your hand reaches her shoulder cautiously, and when she doesn’t jolt away from your touch, you pull her slowly into your arms. Thankfully Wanda doesn’t hesitate, crashing her body to yours.

Bucky takes it as his cue to leave, closing the door to Wanda’s room.

You hold her as she mourns the death of her brother, her twin, the only family she ever knew for the longest time. The black and white track jacket was wedged in-between you both. The room is filled with her pain, and you do your best to hold her, comfort her.

“I miss him. So much” she whimpers as you stroke her hair.

It’s a heart-breaking thing to listen to her say it, the absolute heart-ache she feels clearly present bringing you to tears.

It happened naturally; one moment the room is dark and depressing, and the next there’s a dim glow to everything in sight. Next to her you see a young man with silver hair, his blue eyes swimming with unshed tears as he looks down at his sister.

“Then talk to him” you whisper when the person next to you realizes you can see him.

That was the night that got you closer to Wanda, and the night she finally said her goodbye to Pietro. The small smile you wore is now completely torn off of your lips. How could you have been so selfish? Here you were having the ability to continue living while others do not. Here you were wasting a life when others had theirs taken from them. You look at your body again, knowing how easy it is to just come back.

But then you see Bucky.

Bucky is both a reassuring and aggravating presence. You’re thankful that he remains by your side when he can, giving your heart an empty promise at the sight of him next to you for hours on end. But that, of course, is shattered when he leaves, where the others take his place. It exhausts you, drains you out of energy that it leaves your astral form lying on the floor to rest.

On the fourth day he remains longer than usual, saying nothing and letting the only noise in the room be from the heart monitor and respiratory machine. He stays glued on the chair next to you, this time without a book in hand.

And, this time, a little more agitated.

He’s wringing his hands together –a noticeable habit shared among people with anxiety, that it pained you even more. You push yourself closer to him, wanting so badly to comfort him, to say you’re sorry for being like this.

“I’m sorry” he croaks, guilt drenched in the words that stumble out of him next.

Four days.

It took you four days to realize the severity of your action. None of this was his fault yet here he was, sitting on that chair feeling the weight of guilt crushing his soul. None of this was his fault because he’d done everything he could. None of this was his fault because the decision was in your hands.

It took you four days to recognize the torture Bucky went through at seeing you like this. He’s looking at your weak form, lying unconscious on a hospital bed, delicate tubes and wires running around your body. The agony he must’ve endured throughout these four days finally dawned on you when he’s looking at in this moment.

You see him leaning forwards slowly, calculatedly. Then pauses for a brief moment.

“I-“ but he doesn’t continue, leaving you confused. I what? You thought. Then the door is pulled open, where Natasha and Wanda comes in before he leaves.

You follow him out, forgetting about the consequences of such action, the vulnerability you’ve put your body to just to follow him to his room.

And just like the days he left, you can feel your heart being torn apart piece by piece.

You see Bucky slide easily into his bed, hands wrapped around the waist of a beautiful women. He kisses Yvy’s back. When he closes his eyes, you can see the difference her presence has on him; the worried line and frown that marred his face is gone, his feature softening.

He looked so at peace, so calm next to the girl he loves that it makes you completely forget why you should stay. It hurts you now more than ever. He’s finally happy, so why can’t you be happy for him? Isn’t it your duty, as a friend, to support him no matter what?

Rationality isn’t of utter importance to you right then and there as you force yourself to tear your gaze away, to will yourself back to the room where you laid, wanting nothing more than to just go forget.

To forget. It’s what you wanted –to forget a time where your feelings towards Bucky was anything but platonic, to not remember a time where you craved to have him as yours.

And you know exactly who to turn to.

read final part >> part 4

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