#the red part isn’t waterfalls it’s supposed to be lava

[ck-17088]

Here’s Cole in a hanbok!! Ninjago takes inspiration from many places, but it probably takes the most inspiration from East Asia, particularly Japanese and Chinese cultures. I’ve seen many drawings of the Ninja in kimonos and occasionally hanfu, so I wanted to draw Cole in a hanbok, or Korean traditional clothing. Korea is another East Asian country between Japan and China, so I thought it would be cool for him to wear another kind of traditional clothing.

[fandomrecycling]

Pax and her Potions: Prt 1/3

@anxiousworm @vlanderzine and @whoever RE is. It’s Backstory Time Nerds!

She knew that this wasn’t going to work, but she pressed the button anyways.

The broken - or super sped up - redstone clock in front of her burst to life with flashing red currents as the dispensers sputtered out bonemeal onto crops. Below that, a system of minecart hoppers started, but didn’t collect the fallen wheat for no reason she could understand. Sighing, Pax could feel her parents disappointment behind her.

“Weren’t you paying attention?” Her father shook her head. “You need to set up the hoppers first, you forgot so many components to this too. Where’s your collection system?”

To be fair, she had been only half paying attention as her parents explained - for the third time this week - how to set up an automatic farm. It wasn’t even broken, they’d just taken it down and asked her to fix it from scratch. She had tried the first time. That took her far into the night, even after her parents had left for dinner.

Frustration burning at her chest, Pax shoved it down and shrugged, “I guess I’ll keep working on it later.”

Stepping past her parents, she heard her mother just as she was climbing the stairs, “If you can’t fix this, then I don’t know if we’ll have anything leftover for dinner tonight.”

Guilt tripping her into working, she ignored it. Kneeling beside and sticking her arm under her bed, she pulled away the clothes stuffed underneath and carefully carried out the brewing stand hidden behind them onto her desk.

From her bookshelf, she found one of her journals and flipped through to her small stash of notes. Pax took out a golden carrot she’d stashed in chest on the floor of her closet, along with a handful of stray ingredients.

Sugar, mushrooms and slime balls soon littered her desk. A single water bottle sat in her brewing stand that sat at a boil after carefully pouring in the powdered blaze rod. The daughter fished around her pockets and dumped a small clump of redstone she’d taken from the farm she was supposed to repair.

There was a malicious sense of pride in seeing her rudimentary alchemist setup infront of her. Under the light of the lamp overhead, she could almost pretend she was a mage in some dark, underground cave that was lit with streams of bubbling lava.

Yes, she had stolen most of the ingredients - slimes from sticky pistons, sugar from the cane farms, blade rods meant for glowing end rods - but it wasn’t like they’d be missed among the stacks and stacks of raw resources.

“Okay, what haven’t I tried yet?” She flipped to a page of ingredients and began reading through the list. “Mushroom and slime… no result. Carrot, sugar and bonemeal… no result. Wait, did I try sugar and mushroom yet?”

She hadn’t, so she began preparing ingredients. Pax had learned her lesson the first time she’d tried cramming an entire toadstool into the mouth of her brewing stand. Taking a sharpened stone she used as a knife, she started mincing the mushrooms.

“Miss Valora! Dinner is prepared!” She heard her mother call.

Groaning, Pax crunched through the golden carrot she stashed and yelled back, “Thanks! But I already grabbed something!”

The water bubbling with chunks of mushroom in it were more enticing than anything else now. Carefully, she began pouring the sugar and watched diligently for any sort of change. Pax hoped for a different colour, some kind of light or even an odd smell.

After enough time had passed, she grabbed the bottle out of the stand and looked at the contents from all angles. Mushy chunks of mushroom had floated to the bottom, with filaments swirling in the water. Pax swallowed the entire thing, ignoring the too-hot taste on her tongue and waited for something, anything to happen.

Her mouth tasted sticky and in a moment of fear, tried to remember if the type of mushroom she’d found was poisonous or not. Though if it was, she figured it’d be a good excuse not to work on redstone.

“Of course this isn’t going to work,” she slid down against the wall adjacent to her bookshelf and let her head bang against the wood, “of course it wasn’t going to be that fucking easy.”

Dropping her notebook, she reached up for a dog-eared novel with a colourful cover. A figure with an enchanted pickaxe was drawn in perfect detail, down to the shimmer of the magic on the diamond tool. Behind them, there was nothing but wilderness; looming trees, waterfalls and mountains with caves filled with darkness.

Flipping to a page she had memorized, Pax read aloud to herself in the small room,

“And in this realm is all manner of danger; fire and monsters that I pray the Overworld may never see. But there is all manner of wonder to be found, as it exists in every corner of this world. Materials used to build the grandest of structure, great ruins filled with treasure and perhaps more for those clever enough to traverse this treacherous plane.”

The Nether was strictly off limits to anyone who wasn’t part of the miners who only left to gather the quartz and glowstone used to make specific redstone components. Even then, most were given guards who’d knock back ghast fireballs and the stray zombie pigman that got punched by a jumpy miner.

She’d read practically all the old legend of warriors and mages who’d traverse the flaming ground to search for enchanted items and ingredients for their magic, hidden deep in the bowles of ancient fortresses. There were even myths that the beacon at the center of town was made from the remains of some great beast that lived in the Nether.

Whatever that missing ingredient was, that was what Pax needed for her potions. She had tried every other combination, every other variable and every item she could grate up and shove into the brewing stand. The nights spent doubled over from trying each one of those drinks was proof enough. It would be dangerous and getting caught would mean a punishment worse than just being forced to work overnight.

But satisfaction was so close. And just the idea of spitting her parents by stealing into the Nether and seeing the hellish dimension for herself filled her with excitement.

“Okay, you’re really considering this?” She asked herself. “Really, really considering this?”

Getting to the portal would be easy-ish, not many were foolish enough to try entering the realm so guards were lax. But getting into the untamed parts of the Nether itself would be harder. She’d have to avoid all the guards and whatever monsters she’d find. But she could just use the pickaxe she had to take down misplaced redstone components to tunnel underneath.

It was actually finding a fortress that troubled her the most. There wasn’t any way to put herself out of if she was set on fire and she didn’t have a sword or any combat training. Really, the chances of dying were ridiculously high.

Folding her notes, she fished through her closet for a thick blue cloak and stuffed it into one of the pockets. Stashing all her remaining supplies, she watched through her window for the last trickle of people to leave their homes for the night.

[pluto-parker]

Lonely *Bucky Barnes x Reader*

Summary: The one where Steve leaves Bucky behind, leaving you to pick up the broken pieces

Warnings: platonic!Steve x Bucky, Bucky x reader, angst... so much angst and some mild language ((I’m not following the endgame ending exactly... I’m taking some creative liberties))

Word Count: 1.2k

Masterlist

Requests are open!

You knew it was going to happen before it did.

Steve told you before the funeral. He’s like a brother to you, and you know in your heart that he loves you like a little sister, too.

But in the end... that love wasn’t-- isn’t-- enough. Even Bucky’s pleading eyes, the history, the bond that he and Steve share isn’t enough.

And if that isn’t enough to make him stay, nothing is.

Nothing will ever be able to top the power of a first love, the longing for a dream that you know Steve has struggled with ever since he was taken out of the ice, and you get it... or at least you try to.

But Bucky?

There’s no way he’ll ever be able to understand it.

Cause to him...?

“I’m with you to the end of the line”...

is bullshit.

Empty words that were used to bring him back but not a promise.

Never a promise.

Five seconds too long to shatter nearly a century of camaraderie.

And he’s gone. 

Steve’s gone to a fabricated world; a different timeline; a lie to live out the rest of his life with a different Steve’s Peggy.

You already knew but can’t help but feel sick to your stomach.

And then you hear it.

And your heart shatters with Bucky’s.

Sobs that start out quiet but grow and grow. His hardened exterior decaying with every passing second, ticking years away from the life of the man out of time.

The anguish, the sadness, the inadequacy, the betrayal. It’s all clear as day on his face, bleeding out with the tears that fall down his cheeks onto the grass at his feet.

Bruce and Sam don’t understand and you let them, sparing them from the pain of the truth for as long as you can.

Bucky takes off in a thunderous storm; all clouds and lightning and heavy rain.

With one last look at the pad Steve once stood, you chase the storm, praying that you’ll be able to part the clouds and let the sun shine again.

It’s a week before he finally leaves his room.

All matted hair and scruffy beard and wrinkled clothes.

You’ve been cooking meals for two recently, sliding his half under the doorstep like a prisoner.

And you know, in a way, he is a prisoner. A prisoner to his hurting mind and broken heart.

He walks straight toward you, not even bothering to acknowledge Clint and Bruce sitting on the other couch, sinking into it as he leans into your side, his wavering breath coming in and out slowly, struggling to hold together.

You flicker your gaze from Clint to Bruce and they get the message, shooting you sympathetic looks before rushing out of the room.

A couple seconds span the silence as you try to find the right words to break it.

You don’t.

So you settle for, “I’m sorry,” instead.

He scoffs, turning his red-rimmed gaze toward you with a ghost of a smile, “Of course you’d apologize.”

You furrow your brow and nudge him off of you, but he only settles back into your side again, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shakes his head, “You’re too good.”

“Too good?”

“Yeah.”

Silence again.

You want to bring him up but know that he’ll talk about it when he’s ready.

A week is not long enough to get over a lifetime.

With a sigh, Bucky squeezes your hand with his before standing up, not quite able to meet your gaze as he says, “Thank you,” before slipping back down the hall and shutting his door behind him.

~~~~

A couple days later and he’s talking to Sam again. No jokes. Only small conversation involving the weather and the world’s recovery post-Thanos. 

He’s showered; thank god.

The life hasn’t come back to his eyes just yet and his hair is still matted in places but he’s talking and he’s eating and that’s all you can really ask for.

His eyes wander from Sam during a lull in their conversation and land on you.

Something flickers within his irises but you’re too far away to tell what. 

And then he whisks down the hall and shuts the door with a little too much force.

The slam echoes throughout the room.

You and Sam share a glance.

Not a knowing one.

~~~~

It’s week two and you can’t take it anymore.

Instead of sliding his meal under the door like usual, you twist the doorknob and let yourself in.

The sight is almost enough to bring you to tears.

Almost.

Furniture on its side. Scratches and fist-sized dents decorating the silver walls. Clothes tornadoed about the room.

The memory of the calamity you heard from your bed the night Steve left echoes within your mind as your eyes come to rest on the silhouette with unkempt hair sitting in the window nook with their forehead pressed against the smudged glass.

“Bucky?”

Your voice seems to stir something within him that the sound of the door couldn’t.

His right arm raises slowly until the pads of his fingers are pressed firmly against the glass, pushing himself away to look at you.

His blues meet yours.

Silence.

It stretches on, filling the room to the brim with all the emotion that has yet to escape the both of you.

You’ve just been better at hiding it.

“I have lunch.”

“Thank you. You can just put it on the bed.”

“No.”

You’re not just going to leave him here. You’re not just going to walk out and condemn yourself to internalizing your grief; to dealing with this alone anymore.

Your knuckles are white and your hands are shaking from the sheer force of your grip on the tray. Tears punch and pulse against your eye sockets as you struggle to hold them back. Your head laps with fire from your wavering willpower until it shatters.

You shatter.

Cold nights forcing your cries to stay silent so no one can hear. Isolation from your teammates who don’t mean to but who’s verbal tiptoeing and careful looks serve as a constant reminder of Steve’s abandonment. Slapping on a smile. Throwing yourself into your work. No time to dwell, to think, to find happiness again.

It finally erupts out like lava from the depths of the Earth.

The tray hits the floor with a bang and your arms wrap around your body as if to physically hold yourself together. Tears stream down your cheeks like waterfalls and every shaky breath cuts the silence with a wheeze.

Bucky shoots up at the sight, all wide eyes and sadness and concern as he reaches for you.

You fall into him with little abandon, finally letting yourself crumble apart after weeks of taping over the growing cracks.

“I-I’ve been so lonely. I-I tried to stay strong for you and for the team but I can’t- I can’t do it anymore. Steve’s gone. You’ve been gone. The team have been treating me like a fucking time bomb and maybe for good reason but it just- I just- I- I---”

“Shh- shh-” Bucky murmurs, pulling you impossibly closer as you bury your head into his chest, “I’m sorry. I should’ve been there for you, too. I didn’t realize. I,” his voice goes thick and you can feel his breathes wavering under your fingertips, “I’ve been so fucking selfish.”

“You-you’re not selfish.”

He let’s out an amused breath, “You’re too nice to me. I should’ve been there for you.”

“You’re grieving.”

“Well you are, too.”

You draw blanks on a response as you feel the cloth on your shoulder go damp.

He’s crying and you’re crying and you miss Steve so damn much but you have Bucky.

The only person that can even begin to understand how you feel. The only person that can even begin to understand how he feels.

Guess you’ll be lonely together for a little while.

But it’s better than being lonely apart.

[mj-sage]

Missio Mori

(The Die Mission)

Lyrae’s POV

The world is reduced to fragments after a powerful meteor struck the planet. The meteor was named Epsilon Aurigae, it is far stronger and bigger than the ones that annihilated the dinosaurs ages ago and until now we don’t know its origin. It popped out from nowhere in Earth. The strange thing is that thing seems otherworldly.

I was lost in my own thoughts when I abruptly stop. “Phew! That was close.”

I almost fall off a high tower! I can’t believe I lost my focus because of that mystery. I slowly raised my head and gape at the view that never fails to amaze me every time I see it, this all feels surreal. I stare at the cascading waterfalls down to the clear and long river, to the alluring flowers that surrounds it along with the skyscrapers and towers with highly advanced technological mechanisms. In the sky, you’ll see the great Ivy Mansion, the home of Ivy League which is a big organization and their agents. It is surrounded by heavenly beasts, the Pegasus and the legendary Safine Dragons. I stare at the landscape of the Metropolis, my new world. Behind the horizon lurks the land of cries, Liembvorg. It is a forbidden place where the Augries are found with their leader, Zxirmov. You could hear loud cries over the place when the Augries kill someone. Liembvorg is also known as the fiery pits of hell on land and no one on their right mind would go there.

Humanity survived the rage of Epsilon Aurigae. We don’t know how it happened. The only thing that I remember is that strange magnetic field that was automatically activated when the meteor is millimeters away from the Earth’s mesosphere. Then here comes the strange blinding light which enveloped the planet. After that, no one remembers what happened next. We just woke up from our deep slumber and realized that the world changed and so was us. We woke up surrounded by this skyscrapers and floating islands. A completely different environment, we all thought were living in a dream. Absurd isn’t it? And this absurdity is the mystery that we have to solve.

Each was gifted by a unique power after the strange blinding light enveloped the planet. Some surrendered and got controlled by their greed, those people died early. Few of them remained clear headed and lived a long life. I am Lyrae Syrius aka Agent Zephirra, an agent of Ivy League. Although I wasn’t really great when it comes in hand to hand combat, I was pretty confident with my skills in long range ones. Long range weapons suit me the most. It is a great partner for my ability Fuego, the blue fire. The organization sends out agents to every part of the world to annihilate all the Augries and restore order in the Metropolis. The organization took upon themselves the responsibility to lead the people and maintain peace. They also took responsibility in investigating the mystery that happened years ago, before humanity acquired magical prowess.

For the second time today, I was cut off from my thoughts. These time around not by almost falling off a high building, but by the buzz of my pager. “Agent Zephirra, you have been summoned by Lord McWerlin.”

Did he know? I walked to the door on the rooftop and rode on the Rovertour, an elevator designed as a portal. “To the office of Lord McWerlin” I said. And as usual, I was teleported right in front of Lord McWerlin’s office.

I knocked at the door and waited.

“Come in,” said Lord McWerlin. I slowly opened the huge double door and stepped inside the room.

I bowed my head, “Lord McWerlin.”

He slowly turned and faced me then said, “Be prepared. You’d be sent out for your mission at dawn. You can proceed on your own. You know the way to Liembvorg.”

“I don’t…” I’m supposed to ask him why it has to be me but I stopped when he gave me a death glare.

“Yes. My Lord” I replied and turned away. So…this is my fate. I’ll die tomorrow there’s no doubt in that.

I must be crazy for accepting this die mission. There’s no guarantee that I’ll come out alive, even so I’m willing to sacrifice my life for the ones that I love even though… I don’t understand their reasons…

Flashback: 3rd Persons’ POV

The Meeting Hall of the Ivy League

at Ivy Mansion

The meeting of the higher-ups is currently on-going. They finished assigning agents on specific posts where the Augries recently attacked. Now, they will be deciding on whom to send to a die mission. A mission that could end an agents’ life. They do this to those agents who are weak, to those they deemed trash and to those who serves as a threat to them.

Lord McWerlin is seated at the end of the long table. He is the chairman and founder of Ivy League. He gained the respect of his colleagues and the elders after he killed Zxirmov’s father, the former leader of the Augries. At that time, the Augries were the ones leading the planet. There’s no division, but others retaliated against the Augries because of an unknown reason. That’s when the Ivy League is formed.

“My lord, who should we send out to Liembvorg?” said Reese, one of the members of the higher-ups.

“We should send Minerva, she knows too much about our plans. What if the information gets leaked because of her big mouth?” said Loki.

“I agree. What if that foolish human tell the others about our grand plan? They will retaliate against the organization. We can’t let that happen. We need the humans to stay here.”

“No! We should just send…”

Dug! The sound of a dropped book from a shelf sounded throughout the hall which disturbs the meeting.

“Who’s there?” asked Lord McWerlin with his booming voice. He turned to the other persons to the room and shouted “Chack the vicinity!”

The atmosphere in the room became more intense as each second pass by. In the end they didn’t catch the person eavesdropping on their meeting.

“What should we do now my lord? If that someone leaks the information from our meeting we’ll be dead!”

The others started to panic after hearing that.

“No! What will happen to us now?”

“We can’t let this happen!”

“No!”

“We must catch that person.”

“We need those humans, they can’t leave this world. No!”

A loud bang resounded in the room. “Enough! I think I know who that person is. I’ll send her to that mission. You’re all dismissed!” said Lord McWerlin.

Lyrae’s POV

Back to present time…

I think Lord McWerlin felt my presence that time that’s why he sent me to this mission. I returned to the hall because I forgot my ball pen and notebook, it’s the only thing that reminds me of my former world. I can’t buy anything like that here in Metropolis. I didn’t eavesdrop on their meeting. The only thing I heard is assigning an agent to take on a mission to Liembvorg. I assumed they are planning to kill Zxirmov.

I don’t understand why they would insist on sending a weakling like me to kill him. I won’t be able to kill him even if I do my best. I’m scared… I think I will really die tomorrow.

Come dawn I’m already on the North Gate, a portal to Liembvorg. I walked into it and got teleported to Liembvorg.

The place was worse than I imagined it to be. This is how I imagined the world would be after an apocalypse. It reeks of something I can’t identify. The skies were dark and unwelcoming but strangely I felt comfortable, like I belong here, like this is a place close to home.

I shook my head and whispered to myself, “No, focus Lyrae. You have a mission and a very important one at that. Focus if you still want to live!” I quickly maneuvered my way to the tallest building in the place. I studied the geographic map of Liembvorg during my training that’s why I’m very familiar with this place. This is my only advantage, I must use it wisely.

Liembvorg reins the other half of the planet. It is surrounded by a lake of lava which added to the mysterious and horrifying vibe of the place.

I slowed my movements when I reached the top of the building and stare at the Reve Mansion, that’s where Zxirmov stays and from where I am. I could clearly see him standing on his balcony. I could see his dark locks of hair covering half of his face, wearing a three-piece suit and holding a glass or red wine in his hands.

I slowly raised my arms and aimed my bow at him. The bow is specially designed for me and my ability, Fuego which is a complete contrast to his ability related to ice. I don’t know exactly what it is. Even the organization doesn’t know the name of his ability because he seldom uses it in battle. My long hair was swept away by the wind as I started pulling the string of my bow when suddenly someone attacked me from my back. He was too fast. I didn’t even see how he got there nor feel his presence until he hit me and render me unconscious.

I woke up on an unfamiliar room. My heart started to pump rapidly. No! I don’t want to die! The lights were dimly lit. I wasn’t tied or whatnot and that scared me. If the enemy didn’t tie me to restrict my actions that means he’s confident and powerful enough to kill me instantly.

“You’re awake,” said a deep manly voice. He slowly walked away from the dark part of the room to approach me.

“Zxirmov!” I exclaimed.

He smirked at me and replied, “The one and only.”

I attacked him but he stopped me. I refuse to die without even trying to fight. I feel powerless in front of him. What’s the purpose of my training? I can’t even lay a finger on him.

“Stop it. You should listen to me first.” He said and slowly released me.

“Why would I listen to a merciless demon like you?” I replied and gave him the meanest glare I could muster. He just smirked at me and turned his back.

“Let’s talk when your head is clear,” he said and left the room.

What did he mean by that? Is he saying that I’m not on my right state of mind? Curse him! Because of my anger I followed him and flanked the door open. I didn’t see him in the hallway. No one was there even the guards. I expected the place to be surrounded by Augries but there wasn’t even a shadow of them. I walked and walked until I reached a dead end.

“Die!” I said as I punch the wall. The fear I felt earlier turned to rage.

I want to kill him. I desperately want to kill him! I chanted as I repeatedly strike my fist on the wall. I was startled when a brick moved and the wall slowly parted. It revealed a secret chamber.

“Wha…What is this?” I whispered to myself.

“I’m surprised you found this,” I was startled when someone suddenly speaks.

“Zxirmov! Why are you here?” I asked.

“I’m supposed to be the one asking you that, this is my mansion after all.” He replied.

This irritating demon! If I just have the skill I’ll never think twice and kill you! That’s my inner thought as he walked into the room and turned on the lights. At the center of the room lies a silver gun with ancient symbols carved into it.

“What is that?” I unconsciously asked. I was mesmerized by the gun. It gives off a majestic aura that leaves one to wonder what kind of material it was made from.

Zxirmov carefully touched the gun and looked at me. “This gun is the only thing left by my father. Most of his mana was absorbed by the gun. Do you know why he created this even if it will cost him his downfall against McWerlin and his life?”

“What are you talking about?” I asked confused.

“It’s because he wants to save you. No, he wants to save all the foolish humans.” He replied.

“What?” I asked for the second time.

“You’re a victim, a chess piece used by your organization.” Zxirmov said.

I frowned and said, “Are you out of your mind? The Ivy League is my family they will never do that!”

Zxirmov smirked and said, “Ah! You mean they’ll never do something to harm a family? Why are you here then? Aren’t you a part of their so called ‘family’?”

I clenched my fist and replied, “Just get straight to the point!”

“Lyrae, that’s your name right?” he stared at me intently.

“How did you know?” I replied in utter confusion. Our names are hidden in the organization, we only use our pseudonyms to refer to each other but never our real names.

“You want to know why you’re here, in this world? I’ll tell you what happened years ago when you were forcefully teleported in this place.” He snapped his fingers and suddenly we were at a place I longed to see, my old home.

“H-how?” I whispered to myself.

“This is just an illusion” He started walking so I followed him. A flashback of the events that happened long ago started to play in the illusion.

“That time, it was not a meteor that strucked the Earth. It was a huge portal created by your organization to increase their members and manpower. They were the greedy ones, not us. They want to take control over the realms of the world. And they need humans like you to do that. You’re the only species that could inherit and absorb the mana of this world. That portal brought you here in Erthas, a parallel universe close to Earth” he said.

“No that’s not true! I considered them as my family. I stayed here for so long, they didn’t do something to hurt me until now, I believe they were just punishing me and they’ll come and save me from you!” I replied.

“You’re too naive. They kept you alive because they still have to teleport a number of humans here. You see, not all humans had been teleported in this parallel universe, but their goal is to gather all the humans in this world. That’s the only way they could perform the ritual, by killing you and your kind. They’ll extract your blood and absorb all the mana you have to strengthen themselves, by then they’ll have unlimited mana. They would be powerful enough to lead and control the realms.” He said.

What he said hit me. So that’s why they sent me here. They want to kill me to cover up their plans. Maybe that’s what they’re talking about in the meeting. They got scared thinking that I’ll ruin their plans so they sent me here to die but… I looked at Zxirmov and asked, “If your father wanted to save humans like me why did you kill them?”

“Killing them using this gun is the only way to save them.” He replied and smirked at me.

I took a step back, fear enveloping my entire system. My body turned rigid as signals of alarm was sent to my brain. “Wi-will you kill me t-too?”

“Of course, wake up human you don’t belong in this world! You’re not from here. You should go back to your own world.” He clasped the silver gun and aimed it at me, pulled the trigger and muttered a chant I can’t understand.

A bullet sprung out from the gun. That time I remembered my organization, I felt betrayed and enraged. I thought they were my family but no they deceived me and I hate them for that. Still, I can’t die yet. I have to warn the others. They have to leave this place.

Bang! I was shot but I didn’t feel any pain. All I felt was coldness enveloping my body. I opened my eyes and found myself lying on my room with cold hands and sweat all over my body. That’s when I realized that it was all a dream. There was no apocalypse. It was all but a dream, a nightmare.

5 days later…

Starting the day that I woke up from that strange dream I started wondering if we can truly warp through time and tune in a different frequency to teleport in a parallel universe. I wondered if the parallel universe exists. But then, I revoked my ideas and continued living a normal life.

Maybe the parallel world exists or maybe it was just me and my wild imaginations. No matter what, I should focus on my present life. I am a human, without any kind of special power. I should be contented on what I am and for what I have. I should live my life to the fullest so that I won’t regret anything when I breathe my last.

[the-clueless-philosopher]

Magical Creatures:

Baz POV - Whole Fic.

November 20, 2015

Dating Simon Snow is not the erotic gropefest of my fifth year fantasies, but it is wholly as eventful as I thought it would be. Him, being the thoughtful, terrible, boyfriend he is decided to take the whole gang out for a midnight picnic just outside the Wavering Woods. He even invited my aunt Fiona. Yeah, we got taken by the Humdrum.

I didn’t realize what was going on for a while. One minute we were sitting around by candlelight, laughing and talking, the next I felt an unmistakable emptiness in my stomach. The feeling, however, was gone as soon as it came, for soon, we were back in the Wavering Woods as we had been before, only something was different. Everything was under a mysterious blue hue, as if we had been submerged underwater.

Fiona pulled out her wand and started towards the entrance to the forest, ushering for us to follow. Gripping Simons hand, I followed her down a mysteriously lit path. The whole world seemed to be parallel to the one I’ve known, nothing is specifically different but it’s as if my center of gravity has shifted. I take a minute to look around at forest creatures which seem to be scuttling across the branches, circling us. I hear a girlish scream that could only belong to Agatha Wellbelove and Simon tightens his grip on my hand. Looking around, I spotted the face of an eleven year-old Simon Snow. My heart clenches with the memory of that lost, beautiful boy that made a young Baz feel things he was very afraid of. I’m snapped out of my reminiscent haze as I realize why a distant memory has suddenly manifested itself in front of me. The Humdrum. The first to speak is Fiona.

“What the - who the - fucking hell”

“Its the Humdrum” Simon answer her stammers, with a fearful quiver in his voice.

“More magic?” The Humdrum asks.

“No no no no” Simon stammers, rocking back and forth. I pull him into my side.

“Very well then” The Humdrum declares.

We all feel a very distinct shift as the blue shifts to purple and the trees join together. Blocking the path out of the forest.

“Very well then” Fiona says as the trudges down the path.

“Very well then” Bunce says, taking the lead.

We walk down the path through the forest. The stars above us seem to create a dome, boxing us into the area. The path opens up into a clearing we are surrounded by very orthodox, generic trees that are eerily uniform. Dev walks forward, for some inexplicable reason. Then I see it, a towering form. A brown grizzly bear presents itself in the clearing. Devforward.

“What the fuck, Grimm?” Fiona fruitlessly questions.

The bear bends down to to meet his hand, its antlers becoming visible. Dev has a satisfied smile on his face, all of us watching the two of them in awe. The bear opens its mouth and whispers something inaudible to Dev as I watch the color drain from his face. Just when Dev looks like he’s about to cry, the bear dissolves into purple dust, leaving his hand hanging out in the air.

“Dev?” Niall questions.

Dev simply turns around and collapses into his best friend. We all stand there for a moment, unsure whether or not we should comfort our friend. He doesn’t seem to be crying, he’s just...deflated. Once he detaches himself from Niall. He enlightens us.

“I...I think they’re like spirit animals”

“Spirit animals?” Wellbelove questions, seemingly curios.

“Yeah...um...like dark spirit animals that prey on your fears”

“Morbid” Fiona says jauntily. “Let’s get the fuck out of this place!”

“This is interesting” Bunce thinks out loud as we walk.

“If these animals, prey off of our weaknesses then they must be a corporeal part of our soul...” she starts as I turn towards Simon, who still has a death grip on my hand.

“Are you okay, Love?”

“Yeah...I um...I think the Humdrum is my so called spirit animal”

Well, shit. There’s nothing I can say to comfort him, so I wrap my arm around his waist and let him lean his head on my shoulder as we walk.

The next time one of these “spirit animals” appears, its for Fiona. We were walking through the forest, watching the sun rise and the purple shift to red. Not, light red like a romantic hue. More like the color of blood. Its suffocating, like the whole world exists in a realm between life and death. The light is still dark and ominous. Above us, there’s a bridge created by the branches of different trees growing over each other. Under different circumstances, it might be quite the beautiful canopy.

Fiona has usurped the lead from Bunce and has her teeth clenched so tightly, I can feel the tension in her jaw. We hear it before we see it. The sound of sparks broke the heavy silence. Above us, we see a sparkling orange ball, attached to the tail of a white fox. It flips in the air a few times before diving through the canopy, appearing to make itself smaller in order to squeeze through the layered branches. It lands, on a branch just ahead of Fiona’s eyes. The fox narrows its eyes to slits and leans down to whisper something to Fiona. I see her fists clench and her posture go from defensive to mutinous but her hard exterior can’t stop the tears from welling up in her eyes. When its speech is over the fox transforms into blue swirls of powder and streams upwards, reabsorbed into the dome of stars above us.

“Fiona?” I say.

“It told me I’m disappointing Tasha, and failing you, amongst other things, do what you will with it Bunce” She says nonchalantly, continuing on.

Bunce writes down what Fiona says in a notebook none of us were aware she had.

Dev decides to open up

“It told me that I’m a side character, in Baz’s story” he says, looking at his feet.

“I told you that” I say, kicking myself.

“Yeah, when we were twelve”

An uncomfortable silence settles between the group, all of us standing around, unsure of what we should do, until Simon saves us.

“So how about that airplane food?” Simon says sending us all into fits unwarranted laughter.

After that, the tone stays relatively light given the circumstances. We idly chat about school with Fiona as the light shifts from dark red to a bright, but still somehow dark red. A while back, Bunce convinced Simon to give her a Piggyback ride, forcing our hands apart, but I keep a close watch on him. I don’t think his spirit animal is the Humdrum, but I don’t think Snow would be able to handle it if it was. Bunce conjures a whiteboard in the air above Simon’s head and she and Simon take the lead, so the rest of us can see what she’s writing.

“Okay we really should sort this out” She states, rather matter-of-factly.

Bunce draws three columns ‘what we know’ and ‘what we think we know’ and ‘what we don’t know’.

“Okay” starts Dev, ready to participate “We know that the animals prey off of fears and insecurities”

“Good”, Bunce says as she writes it down.

She draws another arrow and writes ‘magical animals’ and ‘whispers to individual’

I decide to play along and contribute, “We don’t know why we’re here, where we are, or why the fuck the light keeps changing colors”

Bunce writes it down, swears and all.

She pushes the board to the side and we continue on.

A few meters down the path I spot a pitch black creature, with a hollowed out rib cage. Its two front legs are made of...lava that flows from its chest.

“Well this one’s here for me I suppose, it can’t do worse than what I do to myself,” I say marching towards my adversary. I reach out, and the dog-like figure disappears, into thin air as if it had never been there at all.

“Huh” Notes Fiona.

“Baz’s spirit animal doesn’t like him” Bunce says as she writes it on the whiteboard and we continue on as if nothing had happened.

The seven of us march down the path as the light shifts to a bright orange and the trees morph from tall trees of a forest too flatter, more sparse trees of some kind of grassland or savanna. Bunce has long given up a ride on Simon’s back and the group has returned to the comfortable silence we’ve spent most of our journey in. I couldn’t say how much time has passed, perhaps hours, more likely days. My feet have become numb to the pain of walking such lengths and I can see the droop in the shoulders of my comrades. The air is thick, it’s like trying to breath with an elephant on your chest.

In the middle of the grass on which we’ve been walking, a lake opens up with crystal blue, perhaps even sparkling water.

“Here we go again” Fiona sighs.

The water starts forming up until the outline of a horse can clearly be seen. It stretches like clay and you can even see the stretch lines as if gel is constructing the creature before us. The form takes the shape of a horse with rainbow hair curling and twisting in every direction. Its breathtaking. Wellbelove steps forward, and makes her way into the lake, eliciting surprised gasps from the onlookers. Tears are already streaming down her face. The horse leans down resting, it's head on her shoulder and whispers something. Wellbelove nods and walks back towards the group. She silently watches the horse morph back into water and collapse into the lake. The lake closes up and returns to grass as the light shifts from orange to an ominous, golden-yellow.

Having plodded through the savanna, we find ourselves in the most fairytale book land I’ve ever seen. We are surrounded by mystical waterfalls and strange looking plants, even I can’t help but be in awe of the place we’ve found ourselves in. The air isn’t thick, rather, thin, like there isn’t enough for all of us. No matter, I’d give my last breath to Simon bloody Snow. We reach a cave draped in leaves and vines. Niall automatically steps forward. He sweeps the vine aside and we see the eyes of some kind-of age old turtle. It moves its mouth and Niall simply hangs his head in sorrow. The turtle, pays no attention and launches itself into the air, soaring like a dragon with scaly wings. Niall takes the pen from bunce and writes under ‘what we think we know’, ‘animals want to take away an individual's will to keep going’

“Damn, Kelly” Fiona says, not realizing she said it out loud.

Through the jungle trees, I spot another one I assume is for me. A black cat with an elongated nose sits, head hung under its own rain cloud, its chest is engraved with a gold pattern, and the Pitch family crest.

“I think you’re up, Baz” Niall says.

I walk forward, but the creature runs away, into the jungle.

I guess mine really doesn’t like me.

Bunce draws an arrow from my name and writes ‘takes more than one form’

As we trudge along the path, we come to a cliff. No bridge or anything , just a cliff. Fiona sits down and dangle her feet, the rest of us follow. The light switches from a bright yellow to a forest-green color. Simon leans his head on my shoulder and I wrap my arms around him. This past...however long it's been...has felt like a haze. Like the act of waiting but I don’t know what I’m waiting for.

Suddenly, a red...figure launches out of the water into the air. The leathery, light red color stands out against the green background. The front of the figure is a horse but the back has the tail of an eel or a fish. Its perhaps the most striking out of the creatures we’ve seen. Just like Penny. The face of the horse has some kind of crown or tiara dipping between the two eyes and planting a purple stone on the bridge of its nose.

The creature dips and floats in front of Bunce as she reaches her hand out and strokes the stone with a dumbfounded look on her face. The creature’s gemstone glows as the ring on Bunce’s finger glows and she looks like she suddenly understands the secrets of the universe. Tears stream down her face.

Before any of us can fully comprehend the events that had just taken place, a winged lion springs up from nowhere and scoops up the seven of us onto its back. Simon is holding onto its neck leaning forward. We travel as the light turns back into the blue it had been when we arrived. The lion is covered in adornments, like the vines of silver of gold winding around its tail and the earrings in its ears. The wind whistles in my ear and I can hear my friends laughing and shouting. It's the most carefree I’ve seen Simon in a while. The creature carries us over the water and lands in a cloud of purple dust. All of us dismount except for Simon, who appears to be in a heated conversation with the lion. Eventually, he dismounts but I can feel his magic in the air between us. I turn towards the cloud of purple. On a pedestal, lays a black horse with a mane and tail of purple dust streaming into the cloud. I’m pulled by the same force that the crucible pulled me to Simon with. I face the creature, with my hands shaking, afraid that it will leave.

It whispers in a voice I can’t quite place.

“You can’t decide who you want to be, you are the villain playing hero” it starts “you’ve sacrificed everything, your family, your power” it spits the word power, the word striking me in the chest “for a boy that will never truly love you the way you love him” I let out a sob “You are trying to be everything, Basilton Pitch, in the process you have become nothing”. Uncontrollable tears stream down my face, though I’m not sure why all of this is I have said to myself before. Then I realize, it’s my mother’s voice. I collapse on the ground, Simon collapsing next to me catching my tears on his shoulder.

I feel another pull and the sky is black again.

“Welcome back,” says the Humdrum.

[mivirdaeux-soldier]

Assassination

Burning Steppes, 10:30 PM 20th of July.

Retreating from horseback, Darioch skulked silently in the blackness of night: armor drowned in a wash of ash and soot as he climbed from his watching spot on a ravine into the camp. He had wanted to do this mission for some time now, but had been busy or injured and was incapable. Now he even questioned if it was necessary.

There were few patrols between the ogre and orc camps, and the coal-skinned Blackrocks that were present were collecting the bodies of the dead: scavenging armor and weapons and coin from their former comrades, and tossing the ogre bodies into the lava. By this point, the nearby pits had become a half-reddish, sloppy stew of bone remnants and charred flesh that had been so large in quantity as to contaminate the stream of molten rock.

The plants we placed on the enemy must have been more effective than we thought. It was a full-scale war between the orcs and ogres by this point, more focused on killing each other than doing anything particularly productive. He was almost concerned that he didn’t need to do anything. Pondering these thoughts while scaling a sheer cliffside and finding his prepared entry point, he considered how much the orcs had changed, evolved and twisted while he was gone.

After several minutes of silently climbing through the volcanic tubes of the Dreadmaul rock, the ranger finds himself in the private room of the head warlock: a brutal blackrock they had called Deathsnarl. With the rest of the orc leadership dead, he had assumed command and was responsible for the drastic change of the orcs from a military dictatorship to a fanatical cult. Those who once wore utilitarian armor and wore no decoration now strutted about in bloodspattered and disfigured plates, spiked and embedded with bones of ogres defeated. Flayed skins stretched over shields and chains of orc tusks strapped around their necks: likely a grim source of power and authority within their new heirarchy. A macabre sight, but one that, hopefully, would end soon.

After a bit of searching, one warlock sacrificial dagger was, but something else catches Darioch’s eye. A large tome rested near the warlock’s bed: easily the size of his torso, and bound in large, rough black-iron chains. Ragged leaflets poked from the locked sides of the grimoire, with ominous stains of black and red pooling from the sides. 

That isn’t what cause his attention, however. On the front of the tome rested what appeared to be a symbol, faded and broken by attempts to destroy or remove it. The seal of a paladin’s tome.

A stolen, corrupted, malformed Libram.

Acting on instinct, Aurelious grasped for the book: pulling at the chains to heft the book. It was a heavy, monstrous thing that he had to heft on his back, and ruined his stealthiness to a great degree from the rattling of chains.

The raking pain across his mind and the voices of screaming souls didn’t help either.

Aurelious fell to the ground: clasping his forehead and trying to keep the ringing noise from burning his mind to ashes. Blood dribbled freely from his nose and mouth, as he found himself assaulted by dark magics. Similarly to the suffering he endured in Uldum from the illusory magics, Dare focused on drowning out the white noise, trying to discern falsehood from reality as his inner ear swam and shook like an earthquake. It was all he could do to right himself: still carrying the corrupted holy tome on his back by the chains and weakly moving for his true objective.

It took him several hours to drag himself safely and stealthily through the ogre encampment. There were several close calls, and an incident with a guard being forced to take an impromptu lava bath to prevent his detection. The artifact of darkness strapped to his back making it hard for him to act in full effect: due in part to the sheer weight and rattle of the chains, but more because of the overwhelming screams and racking sensations of pain and phantom sensations across his body. By the time he reached the Ogre Warlord’s seat, he was exhausted mentally and physically, in no condition to fight the monstrously obese and brutal creature they called Gachaba.

Despite the guerilla and desperate situation of the ogres, one could look at Gachaba and mistake him for a lavish Highmaul Magister. Adorned in dozens of rings and with the famed, rare quintuple-chin: his extravagant size in belly girth was only matched by the pile of orc skulls upon which his throne was seated, and the rough-hewn iron axe that rested across his lap.

He’s supposed to kill that with a dagger? He’d need a zweihander if he wanted to tickle anything besides fat deposits!

Gachaba, for his part, was content to sit alone in his “Throne Room”, drinking a fluid from a skull-cup that was far too red to be wine. It dribbled like a terraced waterfall down his chin(s) and stained his purple garments a shade of darker black. Removing his chalice and belching, Aurelious was left to consider his options.

It was at this point that Darioch’s peripheral vision caught the sight of something flying at him. He just managed to jump free into the middle of the room, as a large throwing hammer embedded itself into the wall. The massive ogre gave a gurgling chuckle: standing up and tossing the cup away as he gripped his weapon and the earth beneath him quaked at his rippling form.

“Fresh meat! Gachaba hasn’t tasted human in a long time!”

Fuck.

Moving on instinct, Aurelious removed his two mini-crossbows and fired: both shots embedding themselves into the layers of skin and fat of the warlord’s belly. A spurt of blood flew from his belly, but his gut was so prodigiously massive that he doubted he had hit anything besides layers and layers of fat and meat. He could affirm for himself that there was more than obesity behind the ogre, as he rolled underneath a swing that took out a stalagmite column behind him. His axe, rough as it was, seemed to shine with some unseen magical charm that allowed it even more power than just the heft of the ogre wielding it.

Removing his bow, Aurelious fired several shots as he retreated and ducked from the ogre. He was quick and agile, but the ogre’s sheer size meant that he was in striking range more often than not. One good hit, and he would be cleaved in half, or worse. And the fucking book that kept telling him dark secrets strapped to his back and weighing more than a small child didn’t help either! He was dashed in a rain of broken stone from a near-miss that sent him careening into the wall.

“You try to put holes in Gachaba! Don’t worry, I’ll return the favor! Must air out the meat to get the full flavor!” The giant gurgled another bassy laugh, as Aurelious continued his firing pattern. Ten arrows in his stomach, several in his thighs, two or three in his arms, and even one in his neck that couldn’t get past all the damn fat! Winded, exhausted, he threw caution to the wind.

Waiting for the apex of Gachaba’s next swing, Aurelious rushed -forwards- into where the axe’s range, and then within! Drawing his axes, he performed a powerslide between the ogre’s legs, and SUNK both weapons to the base of Gachaba’s... Gachaba’s Gachabas.

He howled in pain as Darioch continued sliding: drawing his daggers and slicing across the fatty backsides of each knee. Several pops could be heard as the knees gave out in combination and forced the obese monster to his knees. Using his daggers as climbing spikes, Aurelious began to hoist himself up the obese climbing range of Gachaba’s backside: digging the daggers in deeply to the spine to get good grip as he reached the necks and head. With one hard, heavy effort, he lifted both of his daggers and-

CRUNCH.

The squelching sound of breaking bone was mixed with the slurping noise of skin deposits breaking on each other, as Aurelious stabbed his daggers into the ogre’s head. Repeatedly. The first two blows struck true, as did the other five, as Gachaba’s body twitched and fell backwards on the floor. Dead.

He left the warlock’s dagger in his head for good measure... But now he had to doctor it to look like it was them.

Taking some time, he removed each of the crossbow and arrow bolts, as well as his axes. Using his daggers, he made some bullshit “Warlock Runes” in the impact holes he made from the shots. A Winter’s Veil tree, a backwards W surrounded by scribbles, and similar paraphernalia was drawn with daggers into the obese monster’s body.

Seeing his work done, and having a report and prize to return to the Garrison, Darioch slowly, stealthily retreated to his horse after several more hours of patient exfiltration. He took long enough for the ogre blood and splecks of raw fat to dry and flake off of his body, as he began the long trip home: doing his best to ignore the words of the tome and the ever-so-maddening pangs of tactile sensation across his body from the dark magic.