#there is a creature inside me who screams about not getting shackled by the nature of things etc etc very loudly

[kan-bu]

feeling petty cause i cant be in denial about not needing glasses anymore :( im hit with the slightest fatigue and the world turns into a blurry unfocused halo of light

[return-of-a-space-cowboy]

Yandere halloween ask yandere mad scientist! Bruno uses mind control chip to get darling to be the perfect spouse?

This ask right here made my mouth froth, I love Stepford wives so this ask just rolled along perfectly. Anyway enjoy!

This love

(Yandere mad scientist Bruno X female reader)

You had always thought so highly of Dr Buccirati, you were his apprentice after all but there were times that you thought he just went a little too far with his work and this was one of them.

As he explained to you about how he made a chip that could modify an animal's behaviour. How the chip was planted in the rat's brain that you were holding.

"See (Y/n), look at how tame she is now" he said as he petted the poor creature's head.

"What do you intend to do with what you have learnt?" You asked with anger in your words.

"I intend to have the chip used to help with the conservation of the many animals that are close to being extinct. The animals will have the procedure and be put into captivity, they'll have no more issues with stress or aggressive behaviours which allows for them to be safely cared for and less risk during the reproduction cycle" he explained.

"So what you are saying is that you're going to be suppressing their natural survival instincts so they become domesticated?" You asked with a bitter taste on your tongue.

"That's exactly it, they'll have a safe place to repopulate and have nothing to worry about" he answered as he expressed his delight but it only made you grit your teeth in anger.

"I'm disgusted by what you are doing! You're essentially performing a lobotomy on these poor animals! You're playing god and taking away the emotions of a living creature!" You yelled at him.

"I've helped you work on some crazy things before… but I cross the line here!" You continued as you put the rat down in her cage before folding your arms at Bruno.

"Come on (y/n), you're overreacting… what I'm, no what we are working on is going to change history. So many species will be saved from becoming extinct. we will be two of the greatest scientific minds the world has ever know" he held your shoulder and lightly massaged it as he tried to convince you that there was no wrong in it.

"I don't know why you insist that this is a joint effort but I don't want anything to do with it, if people figure out how it works then it won't be long before this is used on humans… how many corrupt governments do you think would love to have this kind of technology used on their own people?" You rebuttal.

you glared at Bruno as you could see his usually calm demeanor wearing thin. He had his hands gripping his short black locks.

"(Y/n) the truth is that I love you, more than I could love anyone else. I want you to be by my side and I want you to be my equal…" he as his grip on you grew tighter.

"You are so intelligent and so beautiful… I just want you to do your best" he continued.

You pulled away the male with a shocked expression plastered on your face.

"Bruno… I didn't know you felt that way about me but I'm afraid I don't share the same feelings, I just don't think the chemistry is there between us" you told him before you headed to your bedroom.

🧪🧪🧪

You had decided you needed to cut ties from Bruno and finally begin your own work. You don't think anything could keep you working with him now. You began to pack your clothes back into your suitcase.

"(Y/n) are you planning on leaving now?" He asked as he rested himself against the door frame, he seemed to have recollected himself but to you something was off about his almost carefree tone.

"I intend to leave tomorrow" you said as you sat on your bed and folded your clothing.

"Don't you think you're blowing this out of proportion, can't we put the breaks on just talk about this over some tea..." he said as he slowly drew closer to you.

"I understand that you're upset and I didn't make things much better" he continued calmly before violently grabbing your hand causing you to fall back onto the bed before you heard a metallic click. You screamed as you tried to pull your hand back to find it was handcuffed to the head of the bed.

"What the hell?!" You screamed at Bruno who was now on top of you.

"I'm sorry that it had to come to this but I can't let you leave" he said.

"I love you too much to let you go… you're too good for this world" he continued.

You felt your stomach twist horribly and your vocal cords seize up. Your eyes were wide with horror.

"I dealt with my unrequited love for so long, I tried to just to put my feelings aside for you but I feel like if I keep it up any longer I'll explode" he rambled you tried to push him with your free hand but he was quick to hold it down.

🧪🧪🧪

It had been a month since he'd locked you up. You were curled up with your knees to your chest, you could see every little mark he'd ever left on your body, you still felt the sting that each love bite left on your skin. Today was cold and the chain and cuff around your ankle made it worse as you shivered in a silk nightgown.

You flinched as you heard the front door open. You had hoped that maybe that was anyone but Bruno, someone that could free you from this place. You heard a pair of footsteps draw closer, your hope dying as the same pattern tore into your brain… you knew he was home.

"(Y/n) I'm home" his voice was cheerful as he opened the door.

"I'm sorry I was later than usual… I found so many things I thought you'd like" he explained as he walked in with a large bag in his hand before placing it on the bed. You were hesitant to look but his sapphire eyes stared at you in anticipation, making your skin crawl.

You grabbed the bag and the first thing you pulled out was a 50s style white and black polka dotted dress. You looked at Bruno with a forced smile on your face.

"Bruno this is really nice but I've never really been a fan of dresses" you told him. He didn't respond. You pulled out another similar dress before picking out various boxes with golden jewelry till there was one more box inside, however it was rectangular in shape unlike the others. You pulled it out only to gasp in horror as you gazed upon the packaging of a pregnancy test. You looked back at him.

At this point you knew something was wrong, your stomach was telling you.

"What's going on?" You asked him with shakey words.

"I just need you to take it" he responded.

"Why?" 

"I need to know whether or not you're pregnant, it's urgent"

"Urgent, what's urgent?!" You yelled at him.

"You're being extremely vague, it's scaring me" you replied, unsure of what was so urgant. You really hoped you weren't, having to live knowing your child was of his blood.

"Just take it please, wouldn't you like to know as well?" He begged.

You had a bad feeling about this but if you knew now then you could try to do something about it if it did come back positive. You let out a defeated sigh as you unboxed the test.

"See you didn't need to make such a big deal about it dear" he said in a light hearted tone as he walked towards the bed and unlocked the shackle on your leg and allowed you to go to the bathroom.

You felt the relief wash over you as you saw the results. It was negative, perhaps you were getting yourself all worked up.

"(Y/n) dearest, what's the results?" Bruno asked from outside the bathroom door. You opened it and showed him, his eyes lit up with joy as he hugged you which was very odd indeed, you assumed he'd had baby fever… if that was the case shouldn't he be disappointed.

You recoiled as you felt a sharp jab on the inner side of your elbow. You saw the now empty syringe in his hand.

"What are you doing?!" You screamed as you stumbled back from his grasp. He looked at the syringe and let out a content hum before his eyes returned to you.

He contemplated on whether he should tell you or not but at this point you couldn't do anything to stop him so there was no point in hiding it.

"I remember back on the night you tried to leave fondly, in hindsight you gave me the most brilliant idea" he explained.

"That whole talk on how my chip could work on humans was really inspiring, so I'm going to do just that… if you won't love me like this, then I can just make you love me" he continued as a smile grew on his lips.

The shock hit you as he explained it all, it horrified you to imagine it. It shook you to the very core. Everything else seemed like a luxury in comparison to losing everything.

"Bruno, please don't do this! I love you so much!" You screamed as you draped your body over him.

"My dear I love you so much… I'll stay with you forever… I'll give you as many children as you want, please oh please don't do this!" You were practically sobbing as you tried to pull on his strings.

"I'll do anything for you, anything at all!" You continued as you felt everything becoming numb, he had you in his hands and he could do anything he wanted to you.

"Please Bruno, we can put this all behind us and start over… you never imprisoned me, you never did those things to me… we can be the happiest couple!" You pleaded to him as your eyelids grow heavy.

"Please… please… I won't be the same person you feel in love with if you do this…" your screams turned into a mutter and as you tried to fight off the deep abyss of unconsciousness you swore you could see a glimpse of your whole life with every slow blink.

🧪🧪🧪

"What you've made is amazing Bruno, you should be proud of your work" the man in front of Bruno complimented his work.

"Thank you sir, to be honest I wouldn't be here showing you this if it wasn't for my wonderful wife" he said as he beamed with joy.

"Oh, your wife must be an amazing woman to help you" the man replied.

"Yes she is. She always gave me the right idea when I was unsure, she'd be here with us right now if it weren't for the upcoming baby. She's just been so ecstatic about it since we found out" he stated as he had his head in his hand. He was over the moon with joy, he couldn't talk to someone without bringing up the fact that he was going to be a father soon.

"Oh congratulations, how long till it's due?" The male congratulated him.

"Oh it's close, we're expecting around October… It's hard to imagine that I'll be a father in two months"

"And how's the lucky lady feeling about this? My wife was pretty worried before our first" he asked.

"Oh she's been great, she's been taking it all in stride. I haven't seen her sick or having any mood swings like what most of us tend to expect" Bruno chuckled as he slumped back into his chair.

"We should probably get back on topic… I should probably explain how these chips work in detail"

[sondepoch]

Silly Human, Surrounded by Demons

Every single book from the human world warned you against them.

The lessons were built into the very foundation of your mind, concepts that you should have committed to your heart long before you ever came to the Devildom.

Demons lie. Demons sin. Demons kill. And they have no qualms about any of their transgressions.

What foolery ever made you think they were different? What ignorance compelled you to believe the utter shit that Diavolo spewed into your ear? What raw stupidity made you think that these manifestations of evil were good?

It feels so obvious now—all the signs.

And there were so many goddamn signs.

You should have raised your eyebrows when you learned that RAD was a school. You should have guarded your heart from that very second, because why the fuck would these creatures that have lived thousands of years need to pursue an education for that long? Humans can hardly tolerate two decades of education before taking up a new occupation; millennia is torture.

But when Lucifer spoke about the student exchange program, you nodded along dumbly. Too mesmerized by the grandeur of the hall around you and the beauty of the men in front of you to ever realize how they stared at you like meat, as if you were being slow-cooked to perfection before their very eyes and they were just waiting for the moment when they could eat you.

They even made jokes about it, didn't they?

Beel's unending comments about his hunger, all made while staring straight into your eyes. Asmo's repeated jokes about tasting you, jokes that always felt more anticipating than they did sexual. Mammon's constant refusal to let other demons near you, saying that they would spoil you. Like you were milk and he didn't want you to curdle. Like you were a soul he was waiting to devour, and he didn't want you to get dirty.

Of course, you never picked up on it. You smiled when they smiled and laughed when they laughed, never realizing that their humor was sourced from your utter ignorance.

How blind you were.

It was as if the moment you entered the Devildom, your brain completely shut off.

You never questioned the strangeness of Simeon's demeanor. Barely thought twice about how his outfit was hardly fit for an angel, merely deluded yourself into thinking that the softness of his hair correlated to a softness in his nature. You never realized that he and Luke were the only creatures to stay in their humanoid form. That they never revealed any halos or wings to you. That they emanated the same spirit of darkness as all the demons around you, the only difference being a superficial change in their uniforms and the title "angel" that had been cast upon their shoulders, a lie to delude you into a sense of security.

And it worked.

You felt at home with the demons, and you felt so safe every time you encountered the false angels.

Why, you suppose Luke did the best job of them all.

It's an impressive feat, given that he is the youngest—but now that all the demons you've come to know have transformed into their true forms, you realize that his childlike appearance was nothing more than a trick of magic. That every ounce of hatred he claimed to bear for demons was one meant for your kind. That you had been wholly and utterly deceived by a demon you once named your adopted little brother, the creature no more an angel at heart than he is a sibling to you.

The very thought sends a pang of pain straight to your heart.

A shudder runs of your spine, the instinctive movement only serving to further alert you in your conditions, but no amount of adrenaline can save you now.

You can hardly see. You can hardly hear. You can hardly feel, save for the cold sensation of the iron shackles that hold your body up.

But you can think.

And the more you think, the more obvious it all becomes.

It never struck you as odd that an ancient king of Israel was your classmate. No, you bought into the notion that you were truly at RAD because you were an exchange student, and you believed Diavolo when he said that Solomon was just like you.

A lie.

One among many.

The sorcerer was your only chance to live, your only chance to escape. He was the only man you met who wasn't a demon, who wasn't quietly laughing at your every move, who wasn't waiting to feast on your soul. Solomon was the only out you ever had—and maybe, just maybe, if you had taken the opportunity to befriend him, he might have told you the truth of your situation and helped you leave.

But from the very first day, Lucifer warned you that Solomon was shady. That Solomon was evil. That Solomon would hurt you.

And so put up your defenses against the only person who might have saved you.

But then again, isn't he the man who doomed you in the first place?

A weak sound vibrates in your throat as you attempt to speak, but the magic that binds you is even stronger than the iron around your wrists. Your voice is gone, the equivalent of nothing when faced with such potent magic. The reality of your situation weighs on your shoulder, weighs on your soul.

It is the final push you need.

You can practically feel the moment your soul splits, your resolve shattering alongside your heart, the essence of you opening up like a clam to reveal a most beautiful pearl inside.

The sound of laughter, sharp and cruel, rings out from in front of you, and you hear the voice of the only other human in the realm.

"There it is," He drawls, his voice penetrating the magic he's wrapped you in to keep your senses dulled. "Seasoned to perfection."

"And so it is." Diavolo's voice echoes inside the small chambers of your foolish, foolish brain." I think this soul might be your best work yet, Solomon."

A pause. Long, but only because Diavolo knows that it tortures you to be unable to move or see, only able to cling to the fragments of what you can hear.

"This is what, Solomon? The seventy-fourth?"

"The seventy-third."

"Very well. I'd choose for you, but this human's soul looks especially...appetizing." If you weren't frozen in place, the tone in Diavolo's voice would make you tremble. "You may select anyone in this room."

And there it is.

The truth you should have seen from the start.

A human soul in exchange for a demon's pledge. A feast for many in exchange for a pact between two. The peak of temptation in exchange for the epitome of strength.

The clues were always there. But you've only pieced them together when it's too late.

You don't need to see to know that Solomon is approaching Lucifer. You don't need to hear to understand the circumstances that have killed you. It is perhaps the first time you don't even need to think to know such an intrinsic truth, that the mage has used you in his quest for power, his quest for control, his quest for strength, a journey which renders lives like yours nothing but casualties along the way.

"Would you like me to remove the magic before you begin your feast?"

"Yes." Immediately, a rush of sensation overcomes your body, the coldness of the air stinging your skin. And then your senses are on fire. "After all, the human soul is so much more delicious when it is in pain."

Your mouth opens the moment Solomon's magic releases you from its bounds. You're ready to beg. To plead. To cry and strip yourself of every ounce of dignity if it means you won't need to bear the agony of having your soul ripped to shreds and eaten by the demons around you.

But the only sound that leaves your mouth is a deafening scream, because they've already begun to devour you.

And you have to ask yourself once more: how dumb can you possibly be?

There is no hope, there is no salvation. There never was and there never will be.

There is only pain as you listen to your screams mingled with Solomon's receding footsteps as he walks away from his freshly-made pact and the demons who remain, little gasps of pleasure rolling off their tongues as they savor the most delicious meal they've had in millennia.

And between the most excruciating pain you've ever felt and the overwhelming sense of betrayal that paints your agony darker, a single mantra echoes in your mind.

You should have known they were lying.

It is your final thought, before pain trumps all else and even your thoughts have been set afire.

You should have known they were lying.

[writemymemoir]

Stowaway  Pt 2. (The Mandalorian x fem!reader)

SUMMARY: Meeting the pilot

A/N

I have more direction as to where this is going. Kinda excited.

T/W

Violence, and adult language

Part 1

Part 3

You awoke to the sound of silence. When you had fallen asleep, the scream of the wind outside was the only thing to be heard. Now, there was an eerie quietness. It was not completely silence, as the ship hummed, and beeps could be heard from what you assumed was the cockpit; not far from you.

You could only guess that you had left the planet. You were thankful but now came the hard part. Staying hidden. Unfortunately, due the nature of you coming aboard the ship, you did not know two of the three vital things about this ship. You knew how big the ship was, but you had no idea how many people were on it, or where it was going. For all you knew, the ship was crawling with unsavoury people that could easily throw you out the airlock.

Huffing, you shifted your position. Your legs were dead, your back ached, and your cut was screaming for attention. Shifting your legs out to stretch, you pulled up the sleeve of your parka to look at the cut. It was getting worse.

It was risky, but you had to find the ships med kit. You had no idea how long until the ship stopped again, and there was no way you would be dying in a dusty corner of a ship, with your blood poisoned from the cut.

Getting slowly up onto your feet, you pocked your head out of your hidey hole. Nothing was around you; the corridor was empty. You could see the flash of lights leading up a ladder.

The cockpit.

From your perch from the ground, you looked around to find anything that visibly looked like a med kit. You couldn’t see anything that resembled it.

For fucksake, you thought, Always gotta make it hard for me.

Slowly moving out of your crouch, you stood up. A little too quickly, causing block dots to dance across your vision. Righting yourself on the wall, you began to creep forward towards the cockpit, since behind you was the dead end of the ramp.

You passed a stand of lockers,

Med kit wouldn’t be in there, you thought, It’s not easy access enough. You scanned your eyes forward. Oh great, a carbon freezing chamber. It looked like he didn’t have any poor souls trapped in the carbonite, so it seemed you could work your magic on the controls.

Creeping towards the screen of the machine, you pulled a pin from your parka jacket and pulled the front screen off. Underneath was a bunch of cables. You had disabled a freezer before, so it was simple to pull a few wires here and there. Soon enough, the freezers light dimmed out, and you could breath a sigh of relief. No matter what happened, would wouldn’t be some popsicle in the back of a dusty ass ship.

Closing the front screen, you turned to asses the rest of the quarters. The ladder to the cockpit was on the left wall, followed closely by a vac tube. Next to that was what looked like sleeping quarters. Only big enough for one person.

Who needs privacy, when you’re the only one on the ship, you were feeling better, you could piece together the clues to asses that there should be little to no crew other than the pilot. You could tell by the design of the cockpit that the ship was only made for one pilot, so that led you to believe that this ship could only have one life form on it. You liked those odds.

Looking hopeful, by the looks of it, your suspicions where coming true.

So, for the benefit of the doubt, lets say that this ship has two crew members. Your odds were not increasing, but you at least had a decent chance of winning if you had to fight.

Creeping closer to the ladder, you peered into the sleeping quarters. It was cramped and had minimal personal items. None at all it seemed. Turning back to the ladder, you spotted a green cabinet hanging to the left.

Ah, you had found the med kit. Great, you thought, of course it has to be next to the ladder. You prayed that the pilot was fast asleep, or at least had hearing difficulties.

Walking toward the cabinet, you clicked the open button, the box swung to reveal a plethora of medical supplies. You felt like crying. The inside was organised into little drawers, each labelled with the names of what was in them. You quickly went to work and started loading your pockets with bandages, pain killers and disinfectant. Once you were satisfied with what you had collected, you closed the door, and began to prepare yourself to walking back to your hidey-hole.

That was until you heard the sounds of gurgling. Slowly looking up, you came eye to eye with a pair of big, round, black eyes at the top of the ladder. It was a toddler of some unknown species you had never seen, green and very short.

Oh fuck, you thought, things were going downhill fast. Giving the toddler a slight smile, you put a finger up against your mouth. This caused the toddler to giggle slightly, hairs stood up on the back of your arm, and you made the gesture again.

Shut the fuck up, you thought, pleading the little creature with your eyes.

Backing away, the toddler did not make any more noise, thankfully. It just watched you back up with its huge eyes. You made it quite a distance, passing the freezer. Until, suddenly, a hand reached out and grabbed the toddler, lifting it away from your gaze. Your stomach plummeted; you made quick work of closing the distance to the lockers and jumping behind them. Covering your mouth, you tried to quiet your breathing. Your heart was racing.

Double fuck, you heard the sounds of someone coming down the ladder. You pressed yourself against the back of the locker. The footsteps were slow, but precise, whoever that was coming towards you seemed to not be stressed.

Creeping around the back of the lockers, you squeezed between the lockers and the wall. After reaching the other side, you peaked your head out, and saw the back of a heavily armed man. Helmet and all.

Looking back to the ladder, you saw the little green toddler watching you. Giving the little one and quick smile, you turned back to the man, quietly pulling out you staff, you prepared to take him down.

Coming fully out into the corridor, you faced the back of the man. Aiming, you swung full force against the side of the man’s helmet. The hit didn’t seem to faze him, pulling out his blaster at his side, he spun pointing at you. Ducking, you slid under his aim hit him square in the gut with the end of your staff. You pulled your staff around to knock him off his feet, but he was already moving. Hitting your staff out of your hands with his feet.

You both seemed to pause, looking up you saw his blaster pointed straight at your head. Smiling slightly, you raised your hands.

“Hi,” you said, drawing out the word.

The man stepped forward, not saying a word. You stepped back. He continued walking forward until he had you cornered into the freezer.

“Who are you and what are you doing on my ship?” He said, voice monotone and robotic due to his helmet and a tad bit due to his aesthesis you guessed. Smiling a slightly lopsided grin, you looked up from his blaster to his helmet.

“Was just looking for a way off that planet,” You said, “Was getting a bit too cold for my liking.”

He pointed to your face, no doubt still bloody from your fight at the cantina.

“I would guess it wasn’t just the cold,” His head tilted.

“Well, the cold, mostly. And pissing off a few people didn’t help the situation either,” you smiled your most trusting smile.

“I’m guessing there’s a bounty on your head, looks like your going to pay for you fare one way then,” reaching up he went to turn the freezer on. A beep sounded and silence filled the corridor. He pressed again, and still nothing happened.

His head turned from the screen to you. Acting on instinct, you dodged around his blaster to grab him by his throat. Pushing with all your strength, you pushed him to the ground. Landing on top of him, you started punching wherever you could. You needed your staff, looking up, you saw it out of reach nearby.

With you distracted, the man flipped you over, and pinned your hands up above your head. You were both unarmed. Gritting your teeth, you snarled as you bucked underneath him.

You managed to release one of your legs, kicking up, you lifted him slightly. Pulling, one of your hands came free. Looking up, you spotted your staff. It was closer now, just out of arms reach. The man above you looked up.

“You’re not going to reach it,” He said, not fazed by one of your arms out.

You kept reaching and he looked down at you.

“How did you find my ship?” you ignored his question and kept reaching for the staff. Huffing, he reached over you to push the staff away.

“I won’t ask again, how did you find my ship?” All your focus way on the staff on the ground. You felt a pounding through your ears, you felt the air around your hand. You felt something close to a wave of energy shoot out of your hand towards the staff. One second the staff was out of reach, the next it was in your hand.

The mans head shot up, but before any one of you could react to the situation, you blacked out.

______________________________________________

 You awoke, greeted by the same low hum of the moving ship. This time however, instead of your arms and legs being cramped due to the quarters you found yourself in, your arms and legs were shackled together. Your face felt hot, and your head spun, even though you had not moved.

You were seated behind the pilot’s chair in the cockpit. You groaned, lifting your head. You were met by the little green toddler. Its eyes staring right into yours. You heard shuffling, and the words that resembled ‘Get away from there’ before the toddler was lifted away. You couldn’t think properly, your nose felt stuffed and your arm screamed. Something dripped down your arm, most likely blood, meaning you hadn’t been out for that long.

From the corner of your eye, you saw the man looking at you. He still had his helmet on, he also had the little green thing on his knee.

“Who are you?” he asked, you groaned again. Your head was pounding, you had never felt this way before, ever.

Blood continued dripping down your arm. Your breath was raspy. Whatever you had done fighting the man before you had major consequences to your health. It felt as if your arm was about to fall off.

Your throat screamed for water, and blood dripped from your nose as well.

You looked up to the man, no doubt your face was horrifying.

“I need help,” was all you could say before your head dropped and you blacked out again.

[civilorange]

once i was here,

yasha remember those months. // ao3

________________________________________________________________

Whole forevers pass as you sit in the quiet place inside yourself.

Deep within the recesses of your mind you linger with a palpable fear of what exactly you’re capable of. You watch hands that have always been yours raise the rusted edge of Skingorger and plunge it into the soft stomach of a weathered monk in blue—his eyes bulge, and his mouth parts in a harrowing howl.

Bodies do the strangest things as they die—they shake and tremble, thrumming around the edge of your blade as their muscles contract and press harder on the untended metal. And then something inside goes far away, and they slacken.

You’ve always known this, but watching it now as you are—a guest (a ghost) in your own body—you really see how the color crawls away in his eyes. You see the exact moment he dies.

“Oh, wonderful, Orphanmaker,” Obann drawls, his oily presence sliding through your mind, inking through the edges and pushing you further and further away from the view of what your body is doing. “You’ve made me such a lovely playground to play in.”

Tearing your blade free, the blood spurts and he slumps—his blood so red against the pale floor, the sound of his body collapsing echoing through the halls.

Before that night in the cavern—before Obann, before the Laughing Hand, just before—there had always been the faintest roll of thunder in your ears, just for you. Reminding you that no matter what might seem to be, you’ve never really been alone.

But now there’s only silence.

Cold and heavy.

You strain, trying to rush forward through the dark to throw yourself back into your body—to control those red soaked hands of yours. They’ve been red for weeks now, Obann doesn’t care how it makes your heart ache to see the red grow brown and stiff on the joints of your fingers.

How you watch it flake off in the night, the tips of your fingers rubbing together to turn it into the finest of dust. Absent, considering.

You keep a tally in your mind—one, two, three—of how many bodies you leave in your wake—ten, eleven, twelve—but after a while you stop. You stop trying to remember what your body does in your absence, what your horrible hands do with no hesitation as Obann whispers bitter little words into the shell of your ear.

“Soon, Orphanmaker,” he says often, late into the night, the rattling wheeze of the Laughing Hand growing slow and sluggish as the hours pass in almost silence—the softest chuckle drifting from what must be the litany of mouths carved into his enormous bulk.

.

Some nights, long after the sun has fallen, you’re given a gift.

It isn’t every night, it isn’t even one night in a handful, but often enough—there’s a voice. A twinkling voice that makes you feel lighter, makes you feel less like the monster you know you are—and probably have always been.

“Heey Yasha, it’s me—Jester.”

Always soft, always like she’s trying not to wake someone. You wonder where she is in the world—the Empire? The Dynasty? Somewhere totally new?

You can’t close your eyes where you are so deep down inside, but you can imagine her—bright eyes, infectious smile, a warmth to her that had nothing to do with heat. A warmth that bleeds across miles—realms for all you know—and touches the cold edges of you. “Just—wanted to let you know what we’ve been doing. We made a friend—she’s an aasimar! Do you know—…”

You want to respond, you know logically you can—but you’re unable to. Your fists clench, and your mouth parts—you can feel it, but nothing comes out. You sit in silence.

Always silence.

.

Except when there isn’t.

.

“Heey, Yasha. Did you know Fjord’s accent isn’t even real? He actually sounds pre-tty sophis-i-ti-cated. He told Uk’otoa—(Uk’otoa)—to go fuck off and threw—…”

.

“We—lost Nott today, she died and this might not even reach you. And you’re lost too, and I don’t even know what we’re doing—…”

That had made something inside you crumble, something otherwise untouched—a piece of you that Obann couldn’t scratch away with dirty nails and oily words.

Nott died? Jester had sounded sad, had sounded despondent, but—she didn’t sound devastated. You think of how she had screamed your name as those doors closed, how no one had ever sounded so…broken…about you.

You’re the one left behind—or, you were, before you started leaving first.

No, she didn’t sound devastated.

So you hope.

.

“Soooo, thought about that message and was like Oh My God, Yasha probably thinks Nott’s dead, and no, no, no, we got her back. She—…”

You’ll never know what she was going to do, say, or be, but you’re relieved. As relieved as you can be as your body burns with anger and your sword gouges through another hapless body. Fodder, Obann had laughingly called them. People who had no hope of standing against you, no hope of holding up the weight of your downward swing—you’re so very good at killing, even before Obann you’d known this, but there’s a disconcerting freedom now.

As if the shackles that cage you now are so very different from the self-imposed ones you’ve always chosen to bind yourself with.

You’ve always been a tamed monster, but now—now you’re on the loose.

Tethered only with the ill-intention of a creature burning red with hellish eyes.

.

“Heey, it’s me—again. Just—checking in. I—saw today. You…probably feel pretty bad, and I want you to know I know it isn’t—…”

There’s a crackle in your ears for the first time in so long, the electricity skittering over your chin and down the back of your neck eases the burn of Obann’s command. The voice—Jester’s voice—eases you even more. The Stormlord might be your salvation, but Jester—Jester’s something more tangible. On your best nights you think of her as family, the entire Nein, but on your worst nights you consider them your punishment.

Those who you’ll always disappoint.

But tonight, with Obann’s burn in your blood, and the Stormlord’s lightening crawling across your skin, you need her. You need this simple connection of someone who cares—this reminder that you are you, even if your body isn’t.

“—oh, sorry I got cut off. It isn’t you, and we’re going to get you back, I promise. Promise, promise. Keep fighting, Yasha. You’re so—…”

Because Jester thinks Yasha, and that is you.

It will always be you.

.

As the clouds whisper away and the sky is clear, you find the most beautiful flower. It’s gold, and purple, and red—swirling together, you’ve never seen one like it before. Your chin against the new breastplate Obann has fostered onto you—wrist thick tusks curling over shoulders, cracked leather and metal sticking to the blood and sweat on your skin.

You want to hold it, this beautiful untouched piece of nature—you want to touch something without ruining it for the first time in months.

You watch absently as your hand reaches out and graces just a fingertip against a petal that reminds you so very much of Mollymauk.

Somehow, you know that you can force your fingers to pluck it free, you know that Obann doesn’t see any worth in this silly little weed. You know. So you swim closer to that slanted reality that is just beyond you at every moment, for you don’t sleep when your body does, for you aren’t your body—you just exist in darkness.

You coax, and encourage, and plead, and after much hesitation, your body plucks it free from the ground—so simple, but it’s something you want.

It’s brilliant as you spin it between your fingers, the colors blurring into a kaleidoscope. You smile, your body does too, and with a smooth effort that gives you more hope than you should have—especially months into this—you tuck it away into your breastplate before Obann can see.

Before you’re forced to be just that much less you.

.

Obann talks. A lot.

The words drift and spin in the hollow emptiness around you, and you think he simply must like the sound of his own voice.

“Soon, Orphanmaker,” he says it so often, plodding along with a whip of the tail and a twitch of his wings. Soon to what, you don’t know. To the Angel of Irons, to a menagerie of death dealers, to some inevitable bloody end.

“She’ll love you,” his voice is soft, and you don’t think it should be. It should be razor blades and warning klaxons, it should be bright red and viciously wrong. “You’re perfectly broken. Your chains self-imposed and your hunger ageless.”

He’s whispering the word lovely while reaching out to cup your cheek, but there’s a splash of electricity over the curve of your jaw and into the growing black of your hair.

The darkness from where you’ve existed these months grows cold and darker somehow—and you feel it, you feel the bristling touch of that otherness inside that links you to something otherworldly.

Your wings snap open, swallowing the light and Obann’s eyes shrink, pupils going to pinpricks, his hand halting.

“You’re mine, Orphanmaker,” you want to scream that you’re not that person anymore, whoever they were, whoever you are right now. You’re Yasha. You’re a member of the Mighty Nein, you’re good.

But your wings are black and broken things, skeletal and cold.

His fingers shiver, and his jaw clenches, but he doesn’t touch you. He doesn’t come any closer, and your body might not see him as an enemy, but your soul does. You do.

He’s backing away, glaring, “soon.”

.

“Heeey Yasha, it’s me—Jester. Sorry it’s been a while, we were inside the Happy Fun Ball, and you wouldn’t believe what we found in—…”

.

Sometimes you don’t even notice the days without messages, without blood.

The only two things that catch your attention anymore.

“We’re coming, Yasha. I promise. There’s so much super important stuff I want to tell you. Soon.”

You can only smile, and it feels so odd when you can tell that your numb cheeks pull upward into one as well. You and your body, smiling, together.

She didn’t use all the words.

.

Soon turns out to be a chantry in Rexxentrum.

You scream at every step your body takes, you howl as your hands—still flaking rust colored blood—pulls Skingorger free from your back sheath. You’re chanting no, no, no, no but your lips won’t move. Your knuckles go white under the rust and there’s a burning anger welling up beneath your skin—you burn with it, you expel harrowing growls as your carve through the air, hacking and swiping, and intent on ruining these people you call family.

It gets worse, though, so much worse.

Nott’s face goes blank, and those bright eyes grow far away and you’re horrified for her—you’re worried, no, you’re terrified. You don’t want this for Nott, you don’t want her to ruin anything she might regret, and you don’t want her beautifully green hands to grow dark with blood.

Some part of you that’s still broken—and always will be—want to knock her unconscious before she can hurt herself in ways that have nothing to do with open wounds and spilled blood.

But your body turns, and the Skin-Gorger drags a sinister scratch across the floor, sparks dancing and trilling in the cacophony of chaos around you. Everything blurs and you wish that you could close your eyes and pretend that you aren’t going to carve your way through your friends.

Beauregard is beautiful in her movements, brilliant as she pushes Obann out of her mind, wonderful as she puts herself in front of her friends—her family—and the enemy. You. There’s blood on her tan skin, and bruises around her eyes, and you wish you could simply fall on your blade. Tumble forward and just end this.

But you’re not in control, and you do so much worse.

There’s a part of you that doesn’t wonder at how easily you slice through her, at how her body arches and spins and falls to the ground. How her blood isn’t even remarkable against all the rust still staining you—it with grow brown and turn to dust with age like every other ounce of life-force spilled on you.

Her blistering blue eyes close and her body goes slack and you scream—move, move, go—but your body rights itself and rotates the edge of the glaive so that you might be able to drive it down and into the center of her chest and ruin.

Red spurts and spills, and you can’t stop the shudder of your frame under the control.

You’re shaking as you turn, ripping the tip free, tears sliding through the rust staining your cheeks—a plea in your graveyard eyes. Asking, pleading, for someone to put you down.

You need to die before you kill anyone else.

.

After the doors close, and after the Nein gasps for what little breath they can be afforded, you lean against the wall. Skingorger in hand, but you wished you could still feel Magician’s Judge—you haven’t felt it in ages, the subtle touch of magic thrumming against your palms. The promise of a better tomorrow, of the truth being unveiled.

You watch them, each and every one of them—except Nott, who you will move heaven and earth to retrieve—and you sink down to your knees. You bow into yourself physically because you cannot do it mentally alone anymore—you are Yasha, body and soul, and you’ve missed being you.

.

“Jester,” you say, softer than soft, because you can’t help the flinch at the guarded look Fjord gives you, his fingers curling like he might wish to pull his new blade from the ether. But Jester—

—sweet, stronger than them all Jester—who could still smile after everything. Who still looks at you like someone she loves, despite every reason you’ve given her to the contrary. She hops up and over to you, clasping your hands in hers and pressing her horns against your collarbones like Mollymauk used to. The blunt scrape is comforting, the weight of her more-so.

“I missed you,” she says into your chest, and you can feel the wet drip of her tears soaking into your rust flaking clothing. “I missed you so much.”

You don’t move at first, don’t dare move, but her relief in infectious—like her laughter, and her smile—and you can only last so long before you’re clutching her to you. She’s talking, but you can’t hear her, and you don’t think the actual words really matter. No, they’re pretty unimportant—it’s the scratch of her nails into the fabric of your cloak, and the shake of her shoulders as she cries.

“Thank you,” you say, squeezing your graveyard eyes closed for a moment, trying ot push away all the bad so that you can focus on Jester’s good.

“I didn’t do anything, it was Caduceus.” Extending her to arm’s length, you smile—an awkwardly unsure expression, you know—and shake your head, because she doesn’t know.

“Not for,” she stumble, grimacing. “Not for—for that. For—for thinking of me. For sending all those messages. I—…” You want to be elegant and charming, you want to say exactly what you feel, and want her to understand that she’s most of the reason there was still someone for Caduceus to save. That she reached you when the Stormlord couldn’t—that for a few months she was stronger than any deity.

You reach into the hard edge of your breastplate, pulling free the flattened flower that had reminded you so much of Mollymauk. It’s discolored after so many days hidden away, but it’s still beautiful. Reaching out you tuck it behind her ear, and smile.

“—…I heard you.”

[loki-fanfic-whore]

Consumed ch.6

Warnings- blood /adult situations/abandonment/possible miscarriage

@drakesfiance @jessiejunebug @onceuponagleepottermindlock @iloveyouthreethousand-o6 @imagine-the-100

Chapter 6 Snuffed

You slipped out of consciousness for what seemed like seconds, but in reality became growing days. You faintly felt someone holding you and a warm blanket covering you at different times. Machines beeped and whirred around you as you continued to sink deeper into the dark.

"Why have you come here child?" A deep hoarse voice called. You found yourself standing in the snow staring, watching as your house burned. You were shaking like a leaf. Looking around you saw the smaller version of you limp in the snow, it was just after Surtur had transferred the power. The time seemed frozen the house stuck partially frozen, the screaming had stopped. The snow falling frozen midair.

"You have come back to the point in where our lives meet...mine at the end and yours, the beginning....why have you come back here?" The giant God of lava and fire walked towards you. Tears streaked your cheeks.

"I-I wanted to know why....why me? Why are you consuming me?" Your voice trembled as you looked up into his hollow face. He reached out causing you to flinch, but he didn't hit you, merely cupped your cheek the skin in contact with his hand turning ebony.

"You were- my one and only heir. I had to assure your chances at life...I knew the fate of our world and knew you didn't deserve that...So I took part of you away...I took a part of your essence until my inevitable demise...then I gave it back to you. I wanted you to give into it. To give in to your lineage. To embrace what you are, for you are so rare and- beautiful that it hurts to think I never got to really know you." Surtur stopped speaking for a moment while you processed the information then you closed your eyes and focused. Your body becoming engulfed in flame and small wisps of smoke swirling from you. You opened your eyes to stare up at the God who sired you.

"Why is it killing me?" You found yourself asking.

"That depends my child...do you mean the fire in your heart? Or the ice child in your womb? Surely you know fire and ice will never mix...your body is at war with itself. The mortal side...your mothers side...wants to carry that child....the Muspell side...wants to destroy...its what we do...we bring chaos and death to all we touch." His words became hazy as tears streaked your cheeks.

"I-I'm carrying Loki's baby?" You whimpered looking down at your flat belly.

"Yes...I fear for both your lives, but you are strong. I can feel your heat still. This child will bring about a new creature, one never before see by anyone, not even the Allfather..if it survives."

"How long have I been here with you?" You interrupted quickly worrying if shield even had you in suitable conditions to carry safely.

"Four revolutions of the moon....I believe the midgardians call that three and a half months." He picked your body up and held you against his chest. Even though you didn't know him you felt so comfortable and at peace in his arms. The flame burning from both of your skin becoming comforting to the other.

"You need to let things happen as they do. Chaos is a part of the natural balance of things. It is why I do not resent Odinson for destroying me. Nor do I resent Laufeyson for planting his seed within you. There is so much I wish to tell you, but I fear our time is short. I can feel your embers becoming snuffed."

"I-Im dying?! I dont want to die! I want to exist happily with Loki and our baby and just be happy!! I NEVER ASKED FOR THIS!" you roared as your flame raged. Surtur stood you on the ground infront of him as he took a step back. You melted the snow and ice away exposing ashy dirt beneath your feet.

"And yet you were given no choice. You will either succumb to the fire or you will let it consume you and relight the flame within yourself. Let it consume you child. Let it take all of you, and when you feel there is nothing left to give. Control it, take everything you've given and more. Control it and tip the balance into your own hands. Do what I cannot my child. Succeed where I failed. I- I love you very much..." with that you gasped feeling your chest heave. You felt yourself falling back out of the darkness. Eventually you could see burning bright lights.

"I got her back! Tony I need you to draw up that medicine! Now! We need to keep her! Quickly damnit! Natasha keep going g with the ambu bag. She needs to keep breathing." Your chest was heaving as you tried very slowly to process everything. A weak still shackled hand coming up to your pudgy belly.

"L-loki" you whimpered feeling your head reeling.

"Stay with me sweetheart. I need you to try to acknowledge me. Can you do that?" Bruce tried to get your eye contact but your head was swimming. You felt sick to your stomach.

"Loki." You spoke hoarsely again.

"Thor went to find him! He will be here soon. Please just keep talking. Do you know where you are? Do you know your name?" Bruce kept the questions going until you opened your mouth to release a sob. He had a syringe and was about to inject you when you lurched off the table hitting the ground shaking, you slid backwards terrified until your back hit a cabinet and you felt trapped.

"No no this won't hurt you. I swear it won't." You drew your hands up to your belly. Your face horror stricken, you were wheezing and gasping and very weak.

"You can't!" You spoke hoarsely shaking like a leaf.

"Holy shit! Embers is pregnant! Reindeer games must have fu-" natasha clamped a hand down on Tony's mouth hard and glared at him.

Bruce knelt down beside you and tried to focus your attention.

"Is that true? Do you think you are pregnant?"

"I know I am...my father told me." You whispered out. The door to the lab slammed open and there stood Thor panting angrily.

"Loki is gone."

"What the fuck do you mean gone? He's not dead is he?" Tony glared at the God. Natasha moved beside you to hold your hand and help you up. You looked deathly pale and felt worse.

"No- no I dont think he is dead...he jumped to another realm...how is she?!" Thor asked looking to your shaking frame.

"Oh she is lucid, alert, alive and pregnant." Tony chimed in a sarcastic tone.

"The lady embers carrys a babe?" Thor stared at you inquisitively.

"We must find my brother then. He needs to be here."

"Uhh he is the whole reason we are in this mess." Tony countered. You held your belly still disoriented and terrified.

"It hurts!" You hissed out feeling your insides shift. Everyone turned to look at you. Bruce's eyes wide.

"Everyone but Natasha out!" He roared. You looked down to see blood trickling down your thighs. You felt yourself passing out from shock. You were alone and miscarrying a child you hadn't known about until an hour ago.

"I have to find Loki." Thor paled he turned and fled the room determined to drag his brother back to your side.

[junkyardlynx]

Ch. 3

The stench of death rolled out in thick, cloying waves as we stepped inside. The sanctuary’s design consisted of a long hallway leading into the safe room proper, and the reason for that was simple. It was a choke point to funnel the enemy into one confined space, turning a hallway into a killing field. The automated magical defenses had bisected, burnt, bludgeoned and blasted apart what looked to be dozens of bodies.

Human bodies.

A wave of nausea rose in my throat. I swallowed it down and knelt by a severed head, it’s eyes glassy and accusatory. My hand trailed over it’s sunken cheek, running over a thin line of scar tissue that pulsed weakly with fading magical energy. Index finger following the design, I heaved a disgusted sigh and stood back up.

“Thralls. Deplorable.”

Sarisa’s voice split the murky atmosphere. It was laden with revulsion and tinged with pity, which mirrored my sentiments. As a practitioner of the necromantic arts, I held a special hatred for those that bent the mind of living creatures into thralldom. We raise the bodies of the dead, but only after seeing the spirits off in a proper manner, allowing them their deserved rest, returning them to the cycle. Thralls had their very minds and souls sundered and no rest would find their spirits without the intervention of a skilled necromancer or shaman. Like myself.

“…I’ll watch your back, Jeal.” Sarisa whispered quietly, and I nodded an affirmation of thanks.

I extended my right arm and splayed my fingers out. Exhaling slowly, I sent tendrils of magic into the earth and began to inhale, the physical realm fading further with every moment. The world bathed itself in ghostly ripples as a chill permeated my body - the spiritual realm knew that the warmth of life did not belong on this side. I would make it recognize my authority over such matters.

I emanated a wave of energy through the tendrils anchoring me to the ground, and the world seemed to recoil in horror as I parted the veil. The hazy shapes of the spiritual realm solidified, replacing ripples with bodies. They rose like wilted flowers under a healing rain, piecing themselves back together.

They screamed.

The scream of the damned, the broken and the violated tore through spiritual and physical space, threatening to rip Sarisa and I apart. A lesser mage would be undone. We were not lesser. Thunderous crackles of red lightning splashed from underneath my feet, snaking out to shackle the ghosts by the throat. Their mouths taped, but there was no sound.

“Sleep, children of man. Return to ash and silence.” My voice laced with sovereign power, they acknowledged my command. Such was the nature of overwhelming force. The anguish left their forms and their bodies slackened as stillness settled in the room. A moment - perhaps a minute, perhaps an hour - passed and their forms dissolved into the ether as the red lightning crackled out of existence. I relinquished my grip on the spiritual world and slipped back into the physical plane.

"Good job, Kel'thuzad."

Come on, dude. I hate that nickname. Why is that everyone's go-to Necromancer nickname? Never should have skipped school to play Warcraft with her and Thomas.

My senses reminded me of the carnage that remained as I rejoined my body proper. I closed my right hand, still extended, and swept it to the right. From somewhere between here and nowhere, a cataclysmic wave of fire appeared and swallowed the broken bodies. Only ash and silence remained as promised. Rolling my shoulders, I stepped back and looked at Sarisa.

"You're not mad about the Kel'thuzad thing, right?"

"Maybe I'll find a cow's skull and wear it as a hat next time."

I nodded with a sort of crooked smile, jerking my thumb down the hall to indicate that we should continue.

“So those thralls were used to exhaust the defenses in your safe house. I suppose that's the only way to get fifty healthy men to throw themselves at a deathtrap, other than the promise of money or a blushing bride. Next time you need to count on there being more than fifty people, obviously. What a rookie mistake.”

We approached the heavily warded door that lead to my sanctuary. The only problems being that the wards had been deactivated and the handle was snapped off, with the door melted shut. You know. Minor things. Misplace your keys, forget to brush your teeth, find your magical sanctum invaded. A basic Tuesday. Closing my eyes, I reached my senses out into the room before us, searching for any magical presences. There were four, and they were strong, but apparently unaware.

I kicked the door apart, metal screeching as it separated from fused metal. Reaching my hand into a black and red void, I pulled my lance from the Wound and immediately thrust it forward. It found purchase in cloth and flesh, and a distinctly human scream filled my ears. With the lance still stuck through the body of one invader, I shifted my weight to my right foot and pushed off the ground, narrowly avoiding a blade of condensed wind. An abyssal heat soaked my brain as I heard a grunt of exertion from Sarisa, who had been glanced by the arc of the wind.

Rational thought left me. I had a reputation for calm and collected behavior, but it wasn’t like I didn’t feel and didn’t ache. It wasn’t like I was happy to leave my mother and father to an unknown fate. It wasn’t like I accepted any of this as righteous or good. It sure wasn’t like I’d let anyone hurt someone I cared about. Especially not her. You fill a cup too full and-

With an almost inhuman roar, I discharged pure magical energy through my lance as I came down from my leap. The struggling mage thrashed wildly, wracked with pain before his body literally exploded, sending crackling viscera across my study. Without pause, my weapon stabbed into the earth and I used it as a pole to vault in the direction of Sarisa and her current attacker. With no weapon in hand, I formed a blade of pure malice, giving my anger physical form as a dagger, ripping into the man’s side. As I jerked it upwards and felt the hot blood on my hands and face, I registered the appearances of the invaders with an almost detatched curiosity, as if I was an observer to this one-sided carnage and nothing else.

40s to 50s. Male. No hair. Brown eyes. Short, peppered goatee. White shirt, brown slacks. Currently in eighteen pieces.

30s to early 40s. Female. Blonde bob cut. Mole on neck. Blue eyes. Athletic track uniform, red. Screaming at six pieces of 40s to 50s male.

Late 20s to early 30s. Male. Crew cut. Five o'clock shadow. Brown eyes. White shirt, brown slacks. Clawing at the ethereal blade in his side. No longer clawing. Head missing. On the ground.

Late 20s to early 30s. Female. Shoulder length black hair. Frameless glasses. Green eyes. Grey pencil skirt, blue blouse. Casting a barrage of wi-

My mind swallowed the photographic details in that same abyssal rage from before as I dropped to one knee, my right hand flung out, crafting a barrier from ether. I had channeled a large amount of magic today, between the casting of Xiyir from miles away and quelling the anguished dead, and so my nerves screamed at me for rest. Thankfully, the mage was weaker, and the blades of wind scattered on my aegis, allowing Sarisa to follow up. She kicked off the earth and traced a graceful arc past the mage, arms trailing almost lazily behind her. A series of wet thuds brought two hands and the top of a skull covered in black hair to the ground. One final thud followed soon after.

Recognizing that the only enemy left was reduced to a sniveling puddle of fear, the black heat leaked from my brain and cold calm took over. Pulling my lance from the earth, I cut a Wound and placed it back inside as Sarisa and I approached the woman on the floor. Sarisa’s injured hip had stopped bleeding, and it was then that I realized she had decapitated the man attacking her the moment after I cut into his side. She rotated her wrist and a thin wire wrapped back around it, returning to it's form as a simple bracelet. Man, I forgot how deadly she was with that wire. Made my rage feel silly and pointless. We came to be side by side in front of the bob cut blonde, who was scrambling backwards madly.

“You people are fucking crazy! Stay away!”

"You forced your way into my sanctum at the cost of some fifty-three people. I don't think you get to say that."

Her voice was desperate, but it was familiar. As her palm landed in a pool of fresh blood, she slipped, and her head slammed into the concrete, directly underneath one of the dim incandescent bulbs. It only took a moment to recognize who she - and the others by association - really was.

Sarisa took action before I did, grasping the collar of the woman’s track suit and hauling her to her feet. With a rough shove, the sole survivor  found herself trapped. A choked sob wracked her body as she failed to meet our gaze.

“Miss Lewis, I believe you and the rest of the teachers are - were? - trespassing. I doubt this is an intervention about our school work, so you should probably inform Jeal and I about the situation. Quickly. Calmly. Kindly?” Sarisa’s voice was molten gold being poured over the volleyball coach’s head. She gasped an assent and rambled for a moment before beginning to speak. I'm sure Sarisa felt the same sense of emptiness that I did. Everything was going to hell today. Probably quite literally.

Steeling our hearts, we leaned in to listen.

[fantasyandromancelover]

The Tale of Tales Chapter 42

Gray didn't stop running until he was sure that he had run so far that Juvia wouldn't be able to follow him. He had lost her which meant that she was safe. Now came his next problem, how was he going to trick Minerva into believing that he had killed Juvia? He wandered around the forest trying desperately to think of a plan when suddenly he heard the sound of snorting. He spotted a wild pig digging it's nose into the ground, searching for truffles probably. A mischievous gleam appeared in his eye as he thought of an idea.

"My, my, my." He thought to himself. "What a surprise that her majesty will be dinning on the heart of a pig for breakfast."

He then shot the pig with an arrow, cut out it's heart, and placed it in the box Minerva gave him. He then returned to the castle where he went to meet Queen Minerva in her bedchamber. He was sweaty and his torso was blood stained from cutting out his prey's heart.

"Judging by you apparel am I to understand that Juvia is dead?"

He handed her the box. She opened it and grinned viciously at the heart inside.

"Excellent. You shall be rewarded handsomely."

"I already told you that I don't want your damn reward anymore!"

"As you wish. So tell me did she suffer? Did she scream? Did she beg for her pathetic life?"

"No she didn't. All she did was pray."

"She prayed?"

"Yes. She prayed that her friends, her people, and her father be blessed and that you and I be forgiven for taking her life."

Minerva stiffened for a moment.

"She prayed that I be forgiven?"

"Yes."

"So she kept up that innocent little girl facade up until the end did she?"

"What the hell is wrong with you? She puts others before herself and forgives you for having her killed and you still hate her?"

"It's all an act. That compassionate and forgiving nature of hers is all fake."

"It didn't look fake to me. You know not that I don't think that'll change anything but she never had ill feelings toward you. All she ever wanted from you was a mother's love but I guess you're incapable of giving that."

"Silence! You've done your part now get out of my sight before I change my mind about torturing you!"

Gray gave her a death glare then quietly left her chambers. Alone at last, Minerva once again opened the box and looked at the heart inside. Though delighted with what Gray had brought her she couldn't help but picture Juvia praying that God forgive her for ordering her demise.

"That brat doesn't really care for me! She's never really seen me as her mother! She can't be that good! She can't be! No one can be that good!"

She strated grabbing things off of her vanity and started throwing them around the room, shattering and breaking some of them to pieces. After doing this for fifteen minutes she stopped and regained control of herself.

"I must remain calm." She told herself. "I must keep my head."

Once she had calmed herself down she slipped away into her private dudgeon where her newest prisoner was held. Prince Natsu stood in a jail cell with his wrists and ankles bound in shackles.

"Comfortable Princie?" She asked him with a grin.

"Let me out of here!" He demanded while trying to break out his chains.

"In time I will...On our wedding day."

"Me? Marry you? Ha! You're a crazy woman if I ever saw one! I'll never marry you!"

"Why? Because your heart yearns for Lucy? Well that can be easily corrected."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Well life is such a delicate state. So easy to end just like that."

"You'd kill your own niece?"

"Why not? I killed my own sister."

"What? Why?"

"She stood in my way so I got rid of her. Simple as that."

"You vile, twisted, evil woman! I swear if you do anything to Lucy I'll make you suffer!"

"No you won't because once I'm done with you, you won't even remember your beloved Lucy and you'll willingly agree to become my husband."

"Don't hold your breath witch! I'd rather die than marry someone as horrible as you! I don't understand what King Hector ever saw in you! It's hard to believe someone like him could be ever love someone like you!"

"Fool! King Hector never loved me! He would never love any woman except Dianne! True he wanted a second wife but he would never willingly give his heart to another woman!...At least not without this." She held up a small bottle of liquid.

"What is that?"

"Something that ensured that my darling husband would choose me and don't you worry my sweet prince I won't give it to you until just the right moment."

"I'm not drinking that and you can't make me!"

"You'll find that I get a man do anything I want."

"You won't get me to do anything! And I won't let you hurt Lucy!"

"Just what is about her that's so special? Doe eyed and obedient? A little bland? Why she's just a child."

"And you're just an old lady!"

That earned him a him a slap right across his face.

"Looks like I'll have to cut out that insolent tongue of yours once we're married. I can't have a king so disrespectful and insulting. And I'm not old! I'm twenty nine!"

"Maybe in dog years! And if you must know what makes Lucy so special it's that she's kind, sweet, smart, understanding, and big time beautiful! Which is more than what I can say for you, you blood thirsty harpy!"

"Shut up! How dare you say that anyone is more beautiful than me!"

"You know my brother always said that jealousy was a very ugly thing and he's right. You're a prime example of that phrase."

"Hmmph! So my little niece captures your eye because she's younger and prettier than I am? Is that it? Well just wait until you see me at my best sweet prince. Mark my words, soon you'll become another one of my many, many, admirers."

Natsu only sneered at her then went back to trying to break out of his chains. Minerva walked into her spell room taking the box containing the heart inside with her. She opened her spell book of dark magic and witchcraft then flipped to the page about a spell that would make whoever consumed a heart take on the appearance represented by the creature that the heart belonged to. If she devoured Juvia's heart then she would take on the appearance of beautiful, seventeen year old maiden but it wasn't Juvia's heart she would be eating.

She grabbed a goblet, filled it with dust that would enhance beauty, oils that would retain youth, salts that washed away aging and undesirable physical traits, and finally the heart. The potion boiled, bubbled, and smoked. She brought the goblet to her lips and drank every last drop.

"Now for the spell."

She looked back at the page and read the chant.

"Blood of my enemy give me her power,

Heart of my enemy give me her beauty,

Death of my enemy give me her life!"

With those words said thunder clapped, lighting struck, and smoke wrapped itself around her as the transformation began. Her black hair turned white, her delicate hands became bony with nails long and sharp enough to be talons, her seemingly flawless skin turned wrinkled, her voice became a cackle, her teeth were blackened and yellow, and her face was grotesque with warts. When the transformation was complete all that remained of Queen Minerva was an old hag.

"Now we'll see who the fairest of them all is." She cackled not bothering to look into a mirror to see her new appearance.

[wolf-in-a-suit]

PHD in Matchmaking

A/N: This is my entry to @cleolemonfanfiction‘s writing challenge. Featuring a really pissed off Loki and you dear reader, victim to the fact that you’re Tony Stark’s stubborn friend:

Due to working on a project with Tony you are forced to share a room with none other than sunshine personified: Loki. Both of you find Stark’s hospitality to be thoroughly lacking, will you survive?

My prompt was: A Marvel character and the reader become roommates; they aren’t exactly easy to live with until they reveal their feelings to one another.

Pairing: Reader x Loki

Warnings: Language (nothing major), Loki being an a**

Word Count: 2.399

There was something fishy about Tony Stark’s proposal.

When he told you, one of his best friends way back from university, that he would love to work with you again, you should have been skeptical. His story started reeking when he proclaimed you should just live in the Avenger Tower, for the duration of your stay. Every living being with an intact survival instinct would have been more than careful - thus you accepted it.

After all it was Tony, and you were talking about THE Avenger Tower! As in: high gear equipment for research and a bunch of superhuman trotting around- so no big deal at all!

"Tony you can't be serious..." The billionaire just huffed and said: "Look I'm really sorry but due to construction work we simply don't have enough room, so this will have to do."

"Not enough room? We're talking about a fifty-six floored skyscraper!"

He just clapped your back and ignored all complains - as usual. "Just pretend we're back at the university and you've got a new roomie."

You simply hoped this wasn't one of his disastrous tries to play matchmaker. In your last year at MIT the genius suddenly came to the conclusion that he was the 'Date Doctor' – you should have never encouraged these delusions by watching the film with him- and his first victim (patient) had been your mutual friend. At the end of the month his crush had invoked a restraining order against all three of you.

Becoming infamous on campus had always been a dream, but something about being 'that-girl-with-the-restraining-order' just wasn't all it was cracked up to be-and it certainly didn’t help on the dating market.

"So... who is my roommate?" At this moment a fair skinned, black haired man, stepped into the room a bored expression residing on his face.

You just shook your head. "NO, way! Do you think I lived under a rock these past years? You're expecting me to share a room with the nut job who tried to destroy New York?"

Said nut jobs face changed at lightning speed to a murderous glare.

"How dare you, a mere mortal, an insect in the face of a god, disgrace the-" "Hush,-" you interrupted him right then and there "-the Grownups are having a conversation here."

Loki just stood... still, his brain still trying to process the sheer audacity of this mortal. Tony on the other hand was impressed: "This isn't a sight you see all days: Took us a Hulk to get him to shut up."

At the intensity of your glare the Tony Stark, billionaire, inventor and Superhero started fidgeting nervously. 'Time for a strategic retreat!'

"Yeah, the two of you will be just fine. See you at work." With that he was gone, leaving you to face down the self-proclaimed and pissed off 'god' on your own- high time to reevaluate your choice of friends.

Outside, the turn tail almost smacked into a mountain of muscle. "Wow, Goldy-Locks we've got to put a bell on you." Thor starred at the door concern swimming in his blue irises: "And you deem this to be a good idea? You do realize that my brother is mighty compared with your mortal standards, even with his powers bound by your machine?"

"Relax, big guy! ___ managed to hold me in check for years. How much worse can he be?"

This was followed by a loud crash. Both heroes exchanged glances and after a silent agreement was struck, simply dispersed as if no screaming echoed out of the room in question.

"How dare you low life lay a hand on my belongings?"

"What am I supposed to do just sleep on the floor? This is a bed not a bookshelf!"

"At last you seem to grasp your place!"

The bright blue sky had already given way to the red streaks of dusk.

"Do you think we should interfere?" Bruce Benner startled when a new wave of hollering pierced the air.

"At this rate someone is either going to die, or they are going to hook up." Black Widow retorted offering the assembled Team a bag of chips.

"Natasha I have the feeling you're enjoying this a bit too much. Can we really guarantee ___ safety?" Steve declined the snack appalled.

"As usual Cap you're boring! Just think about it: If she manages to get the wannabe emo to at least shut his mouth for a moment: I’d say it’s a full success." Salty crumbs escaped the heir of the Stark legacy’s mouth.

"100 bugs she won't last two days!" "I take you up on that arrow head!"

Half a dozen heads snapped to the door at the second loud crash disrupted the air.

Days passed and the annoyance started settling in his chambers. She had an absolute disregard for any form of human decency: Grabbing his books and stacking them up somewhere else, obscuring the marked pages in the process, reading late at night and keeping him awake in the process. Even sitting with her filthy human body on his cape and wrinkling it! His plan to dominate earth had never seemed so justified before: These creatures really needed someone to teach them manners! Or better yet-he found another wrinkle in the fine green wool- obliterate them from existence!

The mortal stumbled into his rooms late that night throwing, or trying to throw her lab coat over a chair where it fell to the floor in a heap.

“Do we also add filthiness to our many virtues now, hmm?” The scientist simply huffed, concerning well-adjusted to the jabs by now. “Good evening to you too!” Her bed moaned at the mass crashing onto it. For a few moments only the rustling of him turning delicate pages filled the room. When he felt the weight of stare settle on his shoulders, his eyes wandered to the second bed where he found her prone form watching him with some interest.

The mortal took his raised eyebrow as a cue: “So you’re reading Stephen King now? When did that happen?” The god of mischief’s lungs were filled with a suffering breath. “Obviously nothing of your planets dimwitted literature is capable of entertaining me for too long: So as you took the liberty of grabbing my books and shoving them around I took some of yours.”  

He waited for the inescapable fallout… but only got a huff and a: “Well than by all means: Enjoy our ‘dimwitted’ literature.” Soon the room was filled by the rhythmic fall and rise of her lungs, testament to the false security she thought herself in. Not concerned with the personified wrath, shackled as he might be –he regarded the collar, rendering his ability’s useless- inhabiting the same space as her.

The rays of the morning sun danced through the room, illuminating it in a golden glow. You stirred and opened a lazy eye. ‘You got to be kidding me!’ “Are you already reading again or have you never stopped?” Green eyes broke away from words and met yours. “Degraded as it may be, I must admit there is some merit to be found in your forms of fiction- however underdeveloped it may be.”

‘Aaaand good morning to you too, headache!’ Even when the man complimented something, he dragged it through the mud first. “For ‘underdeveloped’ literature you took quite a shine to it I’d say.” You eyed the tower of books piling beside his cot. A collection of Shakespeare, Charles Dickens and many others were stacked in a hazard manner forming a tribute to the leaning tower of Pisa. One could say much of the insufferable man, but he sure was a fast reader, but god forbid he would hear you complimenting anything about him. That would just feed his ego, inflating it to the eighth world wonder.

Thus the days passed, you worked with Tony and at night crashed in your room. At times, even having civil conversations with the black haired Asgardian. Well, scratch the argument the two of you had regarding his reading candles. How could such an advanced society still use freaking candles for light? Though, you suspected that was just Loki being in his no-one-could-ever-understand-me-cause-I’m-so-deep rebellious phase.

Your project regarding advanced bionic arms for amputees was taking bigger strides each day and would soon be finished.Than you would be out of here and free of the mood swings of his majesty. Tinkering with the sensor of the prototype a sudden sadness welled up inside you. These feelings were quickly brushed away however. Who had the chance to work in the Avenger Tower? It was only natural to be sad to leave it behind!

“Someone is in a disgusting good mood today. And stop that hideous noise, are you trying to sing?” You came to a sudden halt next to him sitting on the windowsill.

“What, are you a leading expert on music now too? It’s called humming!” Unimpressed he resumed turning to the next page. “There is no need to immerse myself in, what you humans might call music, to know that it will lack any originality, or that your ‘humming’ is an insult to every hearing thing that has the ill fortune to meet you.” Your chuckle drove green eyes to flash from the page to your face. “Your insults are becoming a little bit clunky, you should work on that. Although I must admit I walked right into that one.” When your expression started clouding he couldn’t help but inquire:

“Now that you have managed to annoy me yet again, one should think it would lift your spirits even more?” “Ahh, it’s just...” at the impatient ruck of his head you continued: “Tomorrow there will be a press conference about our new project and I can already tell that Tony is going to hog all the glory.” Your hands were raised in surrender, justifying yourself to air. “Not that he ever did it on purpose, but he’s just so charming and outspoken… people always tend to forget me when he’s around. It’s been like this ever since university.”

Loki pondered on this for a long moment. At last he seemed to come to a decision. You looked at him hopefully.

Perhaps this was the turning point, the two of you had a real conversation:

He wasn’t that bad honestly.

“Do you plan on murdering me with boredom? Because that insignificant tale, almost finished what my brother and his idiotic friends started.”

Clash! A Jane Eyre book hit him square in the royal visage. “HOW DARE YOU LITTLE MORTAL-“ His screams died in his throat when salty water leaked onto your cheeks.

“You’re honestly the WORST person imaginable! I thought we had finally found some common ground!” You hated this, you hated that you cried in front of him! You hated this bastard! Why did all that sass leave you when you needed it the most?

The god of mischief scoffed. “Common ground!? You relate more to an insect than to me…” an almost immeasurable pause “Why do you even care about that?”

A primal roar tore through the air. “Because, I care about you!”

Silence.

‘Shit! Shit, shit, shitshitshit!’ If you hadn’t just revealed your greatest weakness to the one person bend on destroying your whole planet, his expression would have been hilarious.

Still, like a statue he stood, with a finger still raised in the air. His eyes wide and expression matching the vacancy, that settled in his mind at your admission. You waited, bracing yourself for the mental pain –probably accompanied by being bitch slapped into next century- that was about to come.

Half a minute ,an eternity stretched by and you couldn’t bare it any more. So you hurried out of the room, leaving shame and misery behind you.

“Where the hell is it?” Tony already rummaged through the whole lab leaving discarded files, books and old takeaway containers in his wake. Searching through the living room for the last control sensor of your prototype he became more and more nervous. “Damn!” his hands dragged through his hair and left it disheveled. “The press is arriving in an hour!” You on the other hand couldn’t really pretend to be to bothered. Between Tony probably being the only one to interact with the press… and the incident yesterday you were already at rock bottom: so pretty comfy with the thought of your work just being dragged through the mud by the press.

Not even the mighty Avengers, vanquishers of foes beyond human comprehension, crawling around on the floor like a band of children playing hide and seek could lighten your mood. Thor started bench pressing the whole couch, because Natasha couldn’t get a good look under it.

Than he entered: Loki strode into the room annoyingly regal and composed as always. Your eyes tried to focus on anything that wasn’t the immaculate form of the Asgardian, but then you realized he strode directly to you. Oh, you had spent the rest of last night- sleeping -on the now airborne couch- about what insults you would cast at him. Anything to fight the rising shame in your gut about your display of weakness yesterday. You squared your shoulders, got into a fighting stance and raised your eyes to meet his with a glare.

But all words failed you when Loki fell in one fluent motion onto his knee and took your hand, raising it to his lips. You felt the peck and something else meet your hand. When he raised his head your stares intertwined, his contained an uncharacteristic warmth.

CRASH! The spell was broken by the thundering clash of the couch almost crushing Black Widow. Thor didn’t even register that the weight had left his hands, he just stared at the scene mouth agape. His brother, not able to contain the fast flash of a grin on his face, took this at his cue to leave. In another elegant motion he stood and left the room as if nothing had transpired between the two of you.

While everyone’s attention was still trained on Loki your turned your hand.

Inside it you found the sensor, a small slip of paper was attached to it: ‘Leave him to fidget some more!’ When the search party started shuffling awkwardly around you again, sending you deeply disturbed glances you slipped your hand into your pocket and felt a blush flame onto your cheeks.      

[athyrabunlord]

LLSHP 20 - Our Story

Arc1: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7]

Arc2: [Chapter 8] [Chapter 9] [Chapter 10] [Chapter 11] [Chapter 12] [Chapter 13] [Chapter 14]

Arc3: [Chapter 15] [Chapter 16] [Chapter 17] [Chapter 18] [Chapter 19] [Chapter 20] [Chapter 21 (TBD)]

Interludes: [Carbonado (1)] [Carbonado (2)] [Of Feathers and Wind] [Delphinus (teaser blip)]

[Brief note about School Term] [other LLSHP AU stuff] [YohaMaRuby concept arts] [ChikaYouRiko concept arts] [KanaDiaMari concept arts] [Hogwarts Staff]

[FFN link] (up until ch17!) [Pixiv Link] [Translated to Chinese by plin2290]

A/N: Honestly surprised myself that I finished this chapter so quickly, but I suppose I’m just as eager to get to the last climax of this story. As this is the second last chapter and based on everything that’s happened, I’m sure many things happening here are to be expected. Still though, it was difficult even for me as the writer to complete many of the scenes. Feedback as always is greatly appreciated, and I hope you’ll look forward to the last chapter/conclusion! Words: 7,480

“Ruby-chan! Ruby-chan!!”

Yoshiko remains rooted in her place, glancing helplessly between Yohane and the chaos beside her. Each and every one of Hanamaru’s cries stab deeply in her heart, making this appalling sight more and more real. Dia has borrowed Ruby’s wand and is repeatedly casting healing spells, while Hanamaru has upturned the Expandable Pouch for all the available vials of Dittany.

But those wounds just won’t close.

Blood continues to soak through Ruby’s vest, her body limp in Dia’s arms and her chest barely rising and falling. Chika and You’s eyes are wide with horror yet they are unable to even speak due to the Body-Bind Curse. Kanan is huffing ferally, struggling in futile under those shackles, the chains already digging into the wolf’s fur and ripping open the scabs. Mari is trying to get up, breathing laboriously, her face scrunched up in sorrow and fury as she shakily points her wand.

Yohane easily brushes aside those badly-aimed spells, the white wing’s feathers not at all ruffled from the disturbance.

“How far you have fallen… the two of you were once so difficult to subdue, but now?” Yohane smiles softly, a jarring expression that contrasts the powerful wave of magic she sent towards her struggling opponents.

Kanan and Mari are thrown back against the shelves, crashing into and shattering various bottles of potions. Mari slides down from the toppled shelf, her wand rolling away from her limp hand, while Kanan has reverted to her human form, eyes closed and breathing feebly.

Yoshiko is already running towards Yohane before she realizes it, yelling with all the rage churning in her heart. ���Crucio!”

With an eyebrow raised elegantly, Yohane shifts her white wing to cover herself. The Unforgivable’s red magic dispurses upon contact, as if it were an elementary spell of no significance.

“Your emotions are delectable, O Lost One, but you do not have enough hatred to use the Cruciatus Curse,” she says calmly like she were discussing the weather. “Would you like me to show you? They were pretty good practice dummies back then.”

“No, stop-” Yoshiko hastily casts Protego at You and Chika’s direction but the sheer magic bursting from the sakura wand pierces right through her Shield Charm.

You and Chika, defenseless, could only clench their eyes shut and unable to even scream from the agony. Yohane is watching them calmly, as if everything is fine and peaceful, that no one is being tortured and bleeding to death because of her.

There’s so much anger in Yoshiko’s heart that it’s actually making her nauseous. She roars again, allowing this tremendous feeling to consume her and dig deep inside her mind. Black tendrils materialize from her arm and spear towards that despicable girl.

Yohane finally moves from her spot, frowning as she steps aside and lifts the Curse.

Yoshiko stands in front of You and Chika protectively, her body slightly hunched over as she lets out ragged gasps. With her arm still covered in black mist and stretched warningly towards Yohane, she dares to glance at the unmoving duo. Though their faces are pale and damp with sweat and their eyes are closed, they are at least breathing albeit weakly. Perhaps sheer exhaustion or those horrible past memories triggered by the shock had caused them to faint.

“Nngh...R-Ruby-chan…”

Hanamaru’s choked sobs echo in the now silent Apothecary. There are many empty vials cluttered around her and Dia is gingerly cradling Ruby while whispering comforting words. Yoshiko couldn’t tell if the wounds have been successfully closed or not, for her signature pink vest has turned into a sickening shade of maroon. Yoshiko could feel tears stinging her own eyes when she looks away from Ruby and meets Hanamaru’s gaze, which is filled with despair. Whimpering, the brunette bites her lower lip and shakes her head.

Ruby… she’s… no… no no no...

“W-Why her…I thought, it was me that you people wanted…” Dia says monotonously, her hands slick with her little sister’s blood.

“You were indeed, Kurosawa heiress. We thought you the most powerful Pureblood of your family, that you still have the potential to become even stronger. Yet, from what I saw in Lily’s mind-” Yohane pauses and smiles when Dia glares at her with bloodshot eyes. “Your Patronus and Animagus form don’t exactly match my image of a powerful Pureblood. Naturally, I got curious and concerned. All this effort, with the Fallen’s limited resources, what if we did get to you and you are the wrong one? And so I looked and pondered.”

Yohane gestures at Yoshiko, who recoils at the realization. “Ah yes, it is through you and our connection that I begin to understand the so-called failure more. That meek little Ruby Kurosawa, her Patronus is truly beautiful, that I concede. I want to make sure though, so I must get to the Kurosawa sisters, to get to all of you with one single swoop. How can I accomplish that?”

She tilts her head and says a matter-of-factly. “Well, here we are.”

Yoshiko clenches her fists, thinking back on all the events that led to this moment. The forcibly blocked-off connection back at the alleyway and the return of the vision, and her telling everyone about the assault on the Estate. It was an elaborate plan all along, with Yohane as the master puppetress stringing them onto the stage that she had designed. Luring them all here, setting up ambushes here and there to diminish the strength of their stronger members, and allowing Dia to run free so they would have to search around for her while Yohane most likely observed them.

Appraised them like livestock for slaughter.

“She has my respect. Truly unexpected, but I suppose her experiences molded her magic and soul. Her desire to protect her friends and save her dear sister makes her so much stronger,” Yohane taps the sakura wand thoughtfully, her smile dropping a little. “I know the Counter-Curse to sectumsempra of course. I could heal her… but I won’t. You’ve cost too many of my cohorts. I need compensation.”

Yoshiko laughs harshly, the rage burning and causing the black mist to condense around her arm again. “Compensation?! You dare to talk about compensation!? Why… why are you like this? Just what the fuck have you accomplished?” She gestures tearfully at her friends. “Are you happy now? Huh?! Causing all this misery, does that make you happy?!”

Yohane blinks in puzzlement, like she truly is incapable of understanding Yoshiko’s sentiment. “Of course I am happy. Do you not see, my sad other half? Can you not see the complete state of my magic, my soul?”

She spreads her wings wide, and Yoshiko could see the left wing slowly yet steadily turning from black to white as well. The atmosphere feels even heavier now that more magic has gathered and saturated in the air. Distressed, Lucifer curls up in Yoshiko’s hood, shivering.

“Truly, I am grateful to you all. See,” Yohane summons the wand from an unconscious member of Fallen nearby, casting a bright Lumos with no trouble. “I can now use any wand… perhaps, I can even obtain my own wand like the rest of you regular witches.”

“What-?” Yoshiko’s hand tightens on her own wand, reassured by the flow of magic between them.

“Because of you, silly girl. You caused so many irregularities in my core that I was unable to bond with any wand… until Lily’s.” Yohane taps the sakura wand against her palm, her thumb gently brushing over the wood. “Perhaps it’s due to Lily’s past interaction with the quill or her connection to you. Either way, this wand accepted my magic, and the rest is history.”

At Yoshiko’s silence, Yohane lowers her voice to a dangerous lilt. “I see the confusion in your eyes. It’s not something you can ever relate to, being able to use a wand like it is the most natural thing in the world. You and the rest of the wizards and witches.” Her condescending gaze then shifts over to Hanamaru, who flinches.

“I gave you a little taste of such… inconvenience. How did it feel, having magic so close without access to it? I was forced to learn to control the only thing I have at my disposal - my soul, my incomplete soul. But ah,” Yohane gives her a fanged grin. “It is much more powerful than I could’ve imagined. We Fallen, through countless research, learn more about my feathers - it can bypass Anti-Apparition Jinx, it can cause disruption in a witch or wizard’s flow of magic and thus rendering them vulnerable.”

She holds up the flask that contains the now black potion. “And now, I can grant magic to those who seek it - Squibs, Muggles, or even sentient creatures like the Acromantulas! Everyone will finally be equal, will they not?”

“You are mad…” Dia hugs Ruby close, sparks of magic cackling at the tip of the latter’s wand.

“Am I? Is it not unfair, that certain people enjoy the convenience and power of magic, while others suffer from the lack of it?”

“If you are strictly referring to that, then I have also thought of the same thing. But, never, ever, at the cost of innocent people’s lives,” Dia’s voice hitches and wavers. “R-Ruby, Riko, and all t-those people… what had they done to deserve this?!”

Yohane’s expression is the closest to remorse that Yoshiko has seen on her. “Unfortunate casualty to balance out everything. My people have suffered as well - those who had given their lives today shall be commemorated for the bright future that is to come.”

“Bright… future…?” Yoshiko glances at Ruby’s motionless body and snarls. “There’s no future! You think you can get away with all of this?! I won’t let you…”

“Just how do you plan to stop me, when I have already gotten what I wanted, hmm?” Yohane shifts her wings and tucks the potion in her pocket. “The rest of the world, the silly Ministry, they shall all see and understand the greatness of what I have accomplished. Even the so-called renowned Order of Merlin, 1st Class, is not enough to honor me. I am too worthy-”

“You are not.”

Hanamaru slowly stands up, her eyes downcast and still full of pain, yet there is something decidedly serene about her demeanor. “You don’t understand anything at all.”

“Oh? Care to elaborate?” Yohane narrows her eyes to slits, her tone lowered to a menacing octave.

“You think you’ve done an amazing thing, but you don’t understand even the simplest of emotions,” Hanamaru clutches her hand in front of her heart as tears trickle down her cheeks. “Can you even relate to our anguish? Can you even feel this loss? You call yourself complete, but how can you be complete when you don’t even understand the importance of such bonds?!”

Yohane’s cool expression shifts to one of anger. “You silly mortal. You’re the one who understands nothing. Your truly are unworthy to be by my side! Very well, I will show you…”

Grimacing, Yoshiko hastily moves to stand in front of Hanamaru and concentrates on the veil of black tendrils wrapped around her outstretched arm. Yohane scoffs at her action and merely holds up the sakura wand with a confident smile.

“Expecto Patronum!”

Yoshiko and Hanamaru cringe at that, staring with wide eyes at the beam of silver light summoned by Yohane’s spell. The Patronus begins to take a corporeal form, shaping into a pair of great wings that encompass the caster.

Yohane’s eyes flash with glee as she laughs joyously. “At last! I can cast the Patronus Charm! See, this is the proof of my worthiness, I am the great fallen angel Yohane-”

The silver light abruptly vanishes, leaving behind evanescent sparks like falling snowflakes. Yohane staggers a few steps, gasping and grasping frantically at her cloak when the whiteness in her left wing begins to recede.

“What’s-? Why… the potion-!” She desperately takes a few gulps, yet that does nothing to halt the darkening of her wings. The blackness has now spread even to her white right wing, like the unrelenting way that ink would spread across a piece of parchment.

“No… No!! W-What’s happening?!”

Perhaps it’s due to their proximity or Yohane’s inadvertently lowered defense, but Yoshiko could feel the former’s panic seeping into her cognizance. She hastily summons her own Patronus, sighing in relief when the silver coelacanth materializes easily at her call.

“Your dazzling Patronus. It comes from the caster’s heart and soul. It’s something that cannot be faked or created from nothingness. This alone proves your worthiness.”

She could almost hear the Selkie Chieftainess’ reassuring words and, judging from the spike of fury she felt, Yohane must have heard those words from her memory too.

“I am unworthy? But you’re the Horcrux! How is this possible?!” Yohane cradles the sakura wand against her chest, wheezing and panting. “This potion should have been perfect! This is supposed to be my crowning moment of glory!! No, it must be you, your existence, it’s making everything wrong, if I could just reclaim you-”

Due to their connection, Yoshiko understands that Yohane is trying to call upon the Dementor horde that probably still lingers around the area. Dia is in no state to cast a Patronus Charm, and Yoshiko herself could feel her control on the silver coelacanth slipping due to Yohane’s disbelief and anger cluttering with her own thoughts. Grimacing, Yoshiko musters her strength to send those black tendrils at Yohane to stop her.

Snarling in frustration, Yohane slaps aside the spears with her wings, though the impact causes both girls to recoil as if something has pierced through their hearts. Yoshiko sinks down on her knees, shuddering from that clash of their soul.

“Hana...maru… aim your Patronus at her wings… now!” She manages to squeeze out those words, her eyes trained on Yohane’s slouched-over form.

Though bewildered, Hanamaru’s expression is full of trust as she directs her Augurey Patronus towards the fallen girl. Yohane cringes with surprise, instinctively shielding herself with her wings, but the silver bird easily tears through the feathers as it soars past her.

Yohane cries out in pain, hugging herself tight and curling up on the ground. The shredded wings droop uselessly against her shoulders, those disintegrated feathers not reforming and the remaining ones losing the whiteness even faster.

Unlike the stabbing pain of the Cruciatus Curse, the agony in Yoshiko’s chest feels like molten lava that mercilessly spreads throughout her body. Her vision flickers out of focus and it takes a few moments for her to realize that she is slumped on the ground, coughing blood.

“Yoshiko-chan!” Hanamaru has dispelled her Patronus and is leaning over her, holding her hands and whimpering. Lucifer is also flapping its wings helplessly near her head, nudging and licking at her sweaty cheek.

Yoshiko couldn’t feel any of their warmth. That sensation of something vanishing is even worse now.

“Are you crazy!?” Yohane is trying to get up but her trembling arms are barely supporting her weight. “You want to... destroy yourself too!?”

Yoshiko knows there is blood trickling down her chin but she couldn’t even taste that coppery tang. She leans feebly against Hanamaru, finding her resolution growing at her loved one’s worried voice.

Almost there. She can end this.

Unable to wield her wand properly, Yoshiko tries to recall the feeling of summoning the Patronus all those years ago back in the background. The desire to protect Hanamaru, the desperation to prove her worth, the belief that she is truly someone special.

The silver coelacanth swims majestically through the air, bringing a small smile to Yoshiko’s face in spite of the severity of the situation. This symbol of hope, so beautiful and brilliant and free! At her slight nod, the sentient Charm then dives towards Yohane with the power of purpose.

Shaking, Yohane could only reform the wings into a condensed shield in a last ditch attempt to stop the Patronus. The black mist evaporates as soon as the coelacanth propels through it, but the silver fish also fades before it could reach her.

As soon as Yohane collapses, Yoshiko also drops her wand and retches blood again. Before her quivering hand could reclaim the wand, a pale hand firmly grips her wrist.

Dia’s cheeks are stained with dried tears but there’s a fierceness in her gaze that demands obedience. “Whatever you are doing, stop it. I want her to pay for everything she did but not through you, not at the cost of your life, Yoshiko-san.”

Hanamaru appears to have put two and two together as well and uses her sleeve to gently wipe away the blood staining Yoshiko’s chin. “It’s enough… it’s too much… no more… stop… don’t...”

Though feeling rather detached to her body in spite of the pain, Yoshiko is able to sit up with Hanamaru and Dia’s help. She glances at Lucifer, who is nestled against Ruby’s hand and crooning miserably, and then at the two girls supporting her upright.

Despite her blurring vision, she is able to meet Yohane’s furious eyes. “Just one more... hit, I’m sure... I can…”

I can end Yohane and atone for our sins.

Coughing weakly, Yohane claws at the wall behind her to try to get up. “If you want to die so badly, I’ll help you with that! The inferno of hell shall be the perfect mausoleum for the great fallen angel!”

A bitter and manic grin lights up on her dark expression as she holds up the sakura wand. “Let’s perish together then, my sad clone!”

Pouring forth from the tip of the wand is a terrible stream of fire, which roars like a sentient beast as it consumes everything around it. The shelves instantly crumble into soot and become part of this uncontrollable rampage.

Fiendfyre. The vague knowledge of the Curse trickles into Yoshiko’s mind as Dia shakily points Ruby’s wand and croaks out. “Partis Temporus!”

Even as Dia’s Charm causes it to part ways, the furious flame continues to spread around the Apothecary, hungry to incinerate and destroy, barely halting. The fire swerves around the spell, ready to converge and feast upon them and their vulnerable friends.

Yohane’s broken laughter reverberates within Yoshiko’s mind, the sheer despair almost making her just surrender and allow the hell fire to burn everything away. However, in spite of being unable to relish in Hanamaru’s warmth, she sees and vaguely feels her cold tears falling upon her skin.

Similar to how Yohane did it earlier, Yoshiko summons the black tendrils to form a condensed shield of blackness to block the fiendfyre just as it is about to reach them.

From her peripheral vision, she notices the sakura wand fracturing, followed by magic scalding her nerves, and everything whitens out.

==========================

Yoshiko blinks.

The atmosphere feels familiar and comforting, and she soon realizes that she is back at the Hogwarts Castle. This is the lavatory that masquerades as the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets, the place where so many things had happened. The beginning of an end.

Perplexed, she approaches one of the mirrors and sees her reflection staring back at her. She’s not covered in dirt and blood, and her school uniform is immaculate and complete with the Slytherin scarf wrapped cozily around her. She doesn’t hurt anywhere, and she feels better than she’s felt for a long time.

She hesitantly pinches herself, startled by the pain.

This isn’t a dream. But what happened? Wasn’t she at the Apothecary on the Kurosawa Estate?

“Yocchan.”

Her heart thuds rapidly in her chest, the pang growing as she turns around to find a familiar girl smiling softly at her.

“L-Lily…?”

She wobbles towards Riko, unable to believe the wonderful sight before her. She raises her hand, not daring to touch the Ravenclaw in case this is all just an illusion. The last time she saw Riko, she was so frail on the hospital bed, those amber eyes so lifeless, unaware of the events around her, still confined to the Janus Thickey Ward at St. Mungo’s-

“Is it… really you, Lily?”

Riko smiles sadly and gently holds her hand. It feels warm, yet there’s also something off about it. “Yes and no.”

“Eh-?”

“I am a construct of your conscience and the remnants of Riko Sakurauchi’s magic,” the burgundy-haired girl slowly lets go and allows Yoshiko’s hand to drop to her side. “Magic is full of possibilities and, while the Curse had destroyed Riko’s wand, its previous owner’s feelings remained strong and answered your call before the magic fades. I am here because of the lingering regret in your heart.”

“Regret…?” Yoshiko chuckles humorlessly, unable to tear her gaze away from the older girl before her. Real or not, it makes her so happy to see Riko healthy and well. It’s been so long since she heard her voice. Come to think of it, this lavatory was the last place where they had a heart to heart conversation, wasn’t it?

“Yes, regret,” the Riko replica says quietly, her expression just as kind as the original’s. “You wish to speak to Riko, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. Ever since that day. I want to say how sorry I am. I want to say how much I appreciate her being there for me. No, not only those. There are so, so damn much I want to talk about with Lily, and Dia-san too,” Yoshiko’s voice cracks and she has to swallow down her sobs. “H-Hanamaru, Ruby, everyone! I want to speak with them more. I want to keep spending time with them. I-I don’t want to leave…”

As always, a mere duplicate or not, this Riko patiently waits for her to gather her composure.

“I want all of us to be together even longer, all nine of us. But, that’s not possible, not anymore.” Yoshiko breathes deeply and clasps her hands together, smiling wryly at the realistic sensation she could feel even though she knows it will not last. “Because... I’m dying.”

There, it is out in the open. Saying it aloud doesn’t feel as terrible as she had expected. This sense of finality is calming even, and having this Riko as the witness somehow gives her more courage. She’s been vaguely aware of this fact since she intercepted that Killing Curse, and everything Yohane did with the potion as well as that clash of Patronus and the wings only sped up the progress.

“I can cry and whine about it, but that’s not gonna change the fact that I’m… disappearing. I’m just a Horcrux, yet I was able to experience a pretty awesome life as a human, finding people who cares about me, loves me,” Yoshiko places her hand against her heart, lowering her gaze at the reassuring sensation of heartbeats. “And I love them too.”

The burgundy-haired girl tilts her head morosely. “Riko cares about you. She is still in shock, still recovering from what she had suffered in the Chamber of Secrets, but deep down, she knows the truth. At least, the truth that you, Yoshiko Tsushima, are not the one who hurt her. Given time, she will accept the truth. Believe me, I’m a corporeal form of her magic after all.”

“That’s relieving to hear,” Yoshiko wipes at her eyes and grins. “Well then, I have no more unfinished business. Thank you for speaking with me. I needed that… I needed that one last push.”

She steps forward and embraces the taller girl, smiling when she feels familiar magic enveloping her even as the replica fades away. The scenery around her begins to dissolve as well, along with the wholesome sensation of being a regular student.

Closing her eyes, she pours her emotions along with the flow of magic.

“I hope you will recover soon. Thank you for everything, and goodbye... sister.”

===============================

“Hanamaru…”

Yoshiko blearily opens her eyes, not surprised to find herself back at the Apothecary. The pungent odor of smoke almost throws her into a coughing fit, but she feels too weak to even exhale properly. Hanamaru and Dia are still seated around her, and a quick glance tells her that the others are nearby as well. Though unconscious, Kanan and Mari, You and Chika, the four of them have been Levitated and placed close together and far from the licking flames of the fiendfyre.

Indeed, walls of the nightmarish fire trap them in this little space. Everything else appears to be ablaze and there is no way out as far as she could see. Perhaps the shield she had created earlier was the only reason why they have yet to be consumed by this magical inferno. At the time being, the flames have skirted around this area, similar to how a river current could be diverted by a formidable rock in its path.

Once certain of everyone’s whereabouts, she finally forces herself to gaze at Ruby, who is still lying behind Dia. Lucifer is curled up against the motionless girl’s hand, as if its tiny body could help preserve warmth.

“...Ruby, how is she-?”

“S-She’s not breathing…” Hanamaru chokes out, and Dia clenches her eyes shut. “S-She’s already...”

“Could you… bring me c-closer?”

Hanamaru and Dia share an uncertain glance but do as requested. Grunting, Yoshiko reaches for Ruby’s wrist, unable to feel any pulse but unable to feel the coldness either. She couldn’t feel anything, not anymore.

“... Ruby, no amount of apologies would be enough… but maybe, if I could only…” Yoshiko grits her teeth and concentrates. Black mist slowly forms around her arm though, with it, comes a dizzying sensation.

“Yoshiko-san-?”

“If these tendrils can maim… it might be able to heal too. It’s the magic of my soul, so if I could only make it…” She ignores Dia’s worried gaze and tries to guide the mist over to the vicious wounds all over Ruby’s body. However, unlike the gentle glow of healing magic, the black mist is fluctuating, as if struggling to break free of the veil form she is keeping it.

“L-Let me help…” Hanamaru reaches for Yoshiko’s hand before the latter could stop her. Instead of hurting her, the black mist recedes a little to give space so that her hand covers Yoshiko’s larger one. Though unable to feel another’s person’s warmth, she could faintly feel the trickle of magic mingling with hers.

Before their wide eyes, the black mist stabilizes and descends upon Ruby, shifting into a soft glow. The maroon of the drenched vest lightens a little and the wounds begin to mend.

“W-what?” Dia doesn’t dare to blink, carefully touching her sister’s cheek and gasping when Ruby lets out a weak breath.

“Maybe… it’s because Yohane knows how to heal her so I somehow know too… or maybe, it’s because Hanamaru’s been connected to us since so long ago…” Yoshiko wheezes, her vision flickering precariously again. What she just did has drained her what little of energy she has left. She would’ve fallen backwards if Hanamaru hadn’t been holding her.

“Ruby…” Dia hugs her sister close, her voice strangled with emotions. “She… she will fine?”

“At least she won’t bleed to death,” Yoshiko gives her a weak grin and struggles to reach for her pocket. “Now, Dia-san, please get everyone out of here.”

“Yoshiko-chan-?” Hanamaru blinks as Yoshiko pushes a black feather in her palm and then drops another in Dia’s hand.

“You heard what Yohane said earlier. These feathers, they should help you Apparate,” Yoshiko pauses and allows herself a moment to sweep her gaze over her friends one last time. She tries to etch their images into her mind, hoping that would help her remember them forever, though she finds such logic ridiculous since she’s the one who would not remain.

“Yoshiko-san, just what are you-?”

“Lily is waiting for you.” She caresses Lucifer’s head before depositing the protesting bat in the older girl’s lap. “I’m counting on you, my greatest little demon, be good to Dia-san okay? Watch over them.”

“I don’t like this… why are you saying all these things,” Hanamaru wraps her arms around Yoshiko’s, refusing to budge even as the latter weakly attempts to tug free. “Let’s all go back to Hogwarts… let’s all go home zura.”

“It’d upset me if I hear anything were to happen to you. I want you to take care of yourself too, Yoshiko-chan.” She could almost hear Grandma Kunikida’s kind words, so she guiltily apologizes to the elder in her mind.

She glances at Ruby, comforted by the feeble but steady rise and fall of her chest, and recalls her worried voice from their conversation by the Black Lake. “Yoshiko-chan, d-don’t leave us, okay?”

“That’s a promise I can no longer keep, my friend.”  She sadly looks away and stares at the roaring flames. “Hanamaru, I’m… just returning to the sky for a bit…. I’ll be back…”

“Yoshiko-chan-?”

She cups Hanamaru’s cheek and kisses her deeply, pouring all the feelings she had in this one intimate gesture. Though stunned at first, the petite girl soon melts against her and returns the kiss just as tenderly.

Yoshiko smiles. She couldn’t feel anything, but she could sense the girl’s love and that is more than enough for her. Though reluctant, she pulls away and whispers against Hanamaru’s ear.

“Please don’t forget me…”

Mustering all the remaining strength she had, she shoves Hanamaru away and abruptly stands up. With one arm around Ruby and the other steadying the startled Hanamaru, Dia is unable to move from her spot and could only watch as Yoshiko gives her one last pleading look.

Before any of them could react, Yoshiko quickly summons the black mist to cover herself and walks into the fiendfyre. The magical flames is tickling at her skin, threatening to consume her, and she finds it utterly ironic how she was able to feel the heat from this Curse and nothing else. She glances back, noticing Hanamaru’s silhouette and flashes of magic. She must be trying to get through this destructive fire, to get to her.

“... promised!” The girl’s heartrending cry is nearly muffled by the cackling inferno. “You promised … when you return to the sky, you would take me with you! Yoshiko-chan!��

Yoshiko turns away and resumes walking. Even though she knows Hanamaru couldn’t hear her, she still finds herself murmuring at the fire.

“I’ll always love you.”

=================================

After what feels like an eternity, Yoshiko finally reaches a similar area within the fiendfyre where the flames have left untouched. Yohane is hugging her legs, in fetal position, the vestiges of her torn black wings draped over her shoulders and are steadily crumbling to dust.

She doesn’t move even as Yoshiko sits down beside her.

“What? Do you pity me?”

“I suppose.”

Yohane laughs shakily, tearfully. “... you knew we are dying.”

Yoshiko nods. “I wasn’t fully sure… but yes, I knew. I just didn’t want to believe it.”

“Then why are you here? Didn’t tell your friends, did you? Wouldn’t you rather die with them around you?” Yohane shifts and turns to face her. If it had been any other circumstances, Yoshiko would have felt sympathy at the sight of such raw helplessness on her mirror image’s expression.

Alas, as it is, she feels nothing. “I don’t want them to see me… go, not like this.” She looks down at her hands, unsurprised that her fingertips are becoming translucent. Her feet are already disintegrating into black mist, into an intangible form. This certainly doesn’t feel like her body anymore. “Besides, in the end… you’re me. I want you to know that you’re not alone.”

Yohane recoils. “Even after everything I have done?”

Scowling, Yoshiko grabs Yohane by the scruff of her cloak and yanks her close so that she’s glaring into those wide eyes. “I will never forgive you. If only I could make you pay, if only I could make you apologize… except, you couldn’t, could you?”

Yohane blinks, still startled and bewildered. Sighing, Yoshiko loosens her grip and shakes her head. “You’re incapable of remorse, just as you’re incapable of many other emotions.”

“... you’re right, I don’t.” Despite the bite of her words, Yohane’s visage flickers with what appears to be lament before the characteristic aloofness returns. “So what. Instead of staying with your beloved friends, you’ve come to me, so we can happily die together, is that it?”

“Yeah, that’s right. Like you said a while back, it’d be too sad if I remain ignorant before I go,” Yoshiko interlaces her fingers together, smiling wistfully. “I want to know. I want to understand why you are this way. Tell me… tell me your story.”

Yohane scoffs half-heartedly as she looks over at Yoshiko’s condition. “There’s not much to tell, but I suppose I could share it. It’s your story as much as it is mine and, well, we got nothing else to do to pass this time anyway, waiting for the inevitable death.”

After a moment’s deliberation, Yohane takes out a familiar quill and places it in Yoshiko’s palm. The object falls through the latter’s translucent hand, landing softly in her lap. The former flinches while the latter doesn’t react.

“Er… yeah, this was you. The quill. It’s made from an Augurey actually, quite unlike any other quills.”

“So I was right,” Yoshiko’s lips quirk with slight humor. “I sensed the connection. It’s a given though, since I … used to be this thing.”

“Right. Well then, where should I even start?” Yohane closes her eyes briefly before opening them again. Her husky voice now has a distant quality to it as she taps her fingers against her knee. “Ah, the playground. I assume you don’t know what happened after Mother saved us?”

Yoshiko could only remember being hugged by Father while Mother was speaking to the Ministry officials that arrived. As if sensing her thoughts, Yohane nods curtly. “They screwed up, y’know? The Dementors were chasing an escaped convict from Nurmengard - that’s a wizarding prison - because the transfer to Azkaban didn’t happen smoothly. During the chase, the Dementors took a detour because they sensed two delectable children with developing magic. Yup, Hanamaru and I.”

Yoshiko carefully watches Yohane’s expression, which appears to be forcibly stoic at the mention of the brunette.

“Father and Mother took me home while the Ministry dealt with the aftermath for Hanamaru. I don’t know. I never saw her again until that day at King’s Cross Station,” she trails off, frowning, and her voice becomes flat again as she touches her chest. “That incident caused my magic to become unstable. Something was desperately trying to break free, and it wasn’t my Patronus or anything.”

Yoshiko exhales tiredly. “... Me?”

“Probably. I know I call you a Horcrux because that’s the only terminology closest to describing you, but who knows what you really are?” Yohane shrugs. “Father was a Muggle descendant of a Squib from a notable Pureblood family, and he’s kept in contact with a distant relative ever since I was born. That relative, an old man who’s also a Squib, have always been helpful in terms of knowledge from the magical world. Mother was a Half-blood who grew up in the Muggle world, so she didn’t know what was happening to me either.”

Even though everything is in the past tense and despite knowing what was coming, Yoshiko is rather pleased at learning about her parents, no matter how trivial the information seems. Yohane snorts at that but she continues speaking.

“So, Father called for the old man to see if he knows what can be done… alas, he wasn’t able to make it to our place in time. Like I said back then, there was a burst of accidental magic and you killed Father. My soul split off, and you were able to latch onto the family quill as some sort of Horcrux.”

In spite of already hearing it once before, Yoshiko still winces and lowers her head. Unlike last time, Yohane’s tone isn’t accusing as she adds. “I believe our magic was very unstable then, and that’s why when Mother tried to help me, save me, she remained too close to the quill and her life force was drained so rapidly.”

Yohane’s composure crumbles a little, displaying a rare moment of pain and sadness.

“That old man discovered me in the ruins of the apartment and quickly took me away under his protection before the Muggle authorities arrived. We went far away, as he didn’t want the Ministry to discover me and possibly take me away for experimentation. We lost our faith in the Ministry since that botched transfer, see? And that’s why neither of us knew of your existence, that an orphan was found at the ruins and identified as Yoshiko Tsushima, an orphan who lived like a Muggle for ten years before receiving Hogwarts’ letter.”

Yoshiko furrows her brows. “I think you’ve seen it in my mind. I… did live like a Muggle, but it was definitely not normal. You have no idea how happy I was, when I found out I was a witch.”

Yohane laughs callously. “It is still better than mine. I grew up with only that old man to rely on. He taught me everything about magic, despite being unable to use it himself. He… was the leader of Fallen. The Fallen’s been around for centuries but it’s only due to my presence that they had such breakthroughs. His distant ancestor was a Squib from the Kurosawa family actually, hence my cohorts’ obsession with this particular Pureblood family.”

Yoshiko isn’t surprised to learn that she’s very, very distantly related to Dia and Ruby. All the Pureblood families are related in one way or another through intermarriage after all, and some Muggleborns do have Pureblood ancestry. Still, hearing such connection gives her a sense of peace.

Yohane chuckles dryly. “She’ll live, that Ruby Kurosawa. Kudos to you on that bastardized healing spell. I’ll have you know that I didn’t aim at any vital spots, otherwise she would have died for certain.”

“Why?”

“Why indeed. I could have killed Lily. I could have killed Ruby. But, like I said, maybe your silly mortal emotions did influence me to an extent,” Yohane sneers, though her voice is subdued and no longer has that vicious edge. “Anyway, within the Fallen, there are many other Squibs and magical relatives tormented by discrimination. Yes, even more Squibs distantly related to the Kurosawas, those who were burned off the family tree. That man who used a suicide bomb, he was actually the brother of that wizard who I had the Dementor Kissed.”

Yoshiko cringes at recalling those aforementioned men. “But all the members of Fallen we had encountered, they all used magic so well-?”

“They were temporarily granted the ability to use magic through the many versions of incomplete potions we have developed. Why do you think it was so difficult for us to capture a Pureblood? The old man passed away three years ago and so, under my leadership, I pushed forward our agenda by risking casualties and exposure. I’m not conservative like him, and I was fucking sick of being idle and hiding, like I’m some sort of abomination.” Yohane takes out the nearly empty flask of the potion that had briefly granted her a white wing. “I still believe this potion is truly complete. It should work on the Squibs, Muggles and other potential candidates, just not me. I suppose, nothing can ever fill the void of my missing soul.”

She raises the flask as if she is about to hurl it into the flames, but she lowers it tiredly a moment later. “There, satisfied now? That’s my pathetic little story, you silly girl.”

Yoshiko gazes contemplatively at the ground for a while, with only the cackling flame and Yohane’s ragged breathing as background noise. She morbidly tries to prickle her finger at a piece of sharp rock but her now transparent finger just goes right through the object.

“Your story doesn’t excuse you for what you’ve done.”

“Of course it doesn’t, and I don’t intend it to anyway, I only-”

“But I still can’t help but sympathize with you.”

“Ha?” Yohane’s visage is full of incredulity. “Did your brain disappear too?”

Yoshiko rolls her eyes. In so many aspects, it’s ludicrous how they’re bantering like this in the middle of this deadly inferno while steadily vanishing into oblivion. Yet, it also feels right, like some sort of closure that the two pieces of the same soul owe to themselves. Perhaps it is exactly because they’re dying that they’re able to reach such moment of truce.

“Had I gone down the wrong path, I might have ended up like you. There were some pretty dark moments while growing up. All those talk about conquering the world and acquiring little demons, there were times when I genuinely wished it, maliciously too. It was brief and quickly forgotten, but it was there,” Yoshiko pauses and watches as the quill falls through her lap onto the ground, the black mist now spreading up her legs and have reached her waist. She could barely see the shape of her feet anymore.

Yohane is watching her, her expression a mixture of fear and morbid fascination at her condition. In comparison, the only sign of her declining health is that bead of cold sweat trickling down her deathly pale cheek.

“I just want to say… you weren’t always evil, Yohane. We… you… you saved Hanamaru back then. You did it because you wanted to save her, right?”

Yohane sighs and rubs her temple. “... yeah. She was my first friend. I remember what happened, but I don’t remember my reasoning behind it… or my emotions back then.”

“I think, when our souls split, it just so happens that I’m the part that retained the feeling, deep in my subconscious,” Yoshiko finds herself smiling, though it isn’t a happy smile. “You hold the memories of that event, but not the emotions associated with it. You were only left with the negative feelings, while I was capable of learning more. I still had hope.”

“Hope, huh?” Yohane returns her smile, and it appears just as forlorn. “That’s certainly a foreign feeling… but it sounds pleasant, Yoshiko.”

“Yeah, hope, along with many other emotions, allowed me to summon the Patronus that you originally did to save Hanamaru.” With a strained grunt, she reaches for Yohane and drapes her arm around the latter’s shoulder in an awkward hug.

“What the hell?” Yohane freezes but doesn’t push away, especially when she notices how Yoshiko is barely hanging on with her semi-transparent arms. “You-”

“Just shut up and listen to me… no, rather, go ahead and look into my mind,” Yoshiko grits her teeth and tries to gather her thoughts. Everything seems to be slipping away, like it never existed in the first place.

Kanan’s playful grin as she chases her around the Room of Requirement

That twinkle in Mari’s eyes as she teases her about her feelings at the courtyard.

Chika’s sunny laughter as she persistently shoves mikans towards her mouth at the library.

The protective gleam in You’s blue eyes as she ruffles her hair in the Aviary.

Dia’s understanding smile as she attentively listens to her in the Slytherin Dorm.

The softness of Riko’s voice as she speaks to the Thestrals with her at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

Ruby gently holding her hand and telling her that she is family.

The sheer love in Hanamaru’s kiss earlier before they parted ways.

“Everything I’ve experienced, the good and the bad, all the fun times at Hogwarts, all those precious moments of my life as Yoshiko Tsushima, I want you to feel those too. This is my story… I want to share it, at least, before I… before we…”

Yohane closes her eyes, allowing Yoshiko to lean against her as she stiffly returns the hug. “It’s warm.”

“It is.”

“It’s… nice…” Yohane whispers despondently, her breaths light and wispy. “Heh, you are a good girl, Yoshiko. Being a mortal isn’t all bad. This way, dying isn’t so bad.”

Yoshiko smiles at the acknowledgement, unable to think anymore. The fiendfyre continues to blaze around them while the black mist of her body leaks away into nothingness. She may be disappearing, but she’s surrounded by all these wonderful memories and feelings.

Indeed, this isn’t so bad.

[nebula-starlight]

Virus (Part 4 - Asylum)

Her eyes glowed bright green in the mirror’s reflection, despite her best efforts to will them back to the soft topaz they were supposed to be. Work was coming up and she couldn’t afford to call in sick again. She’d lose her job if she did that once more and she needed the money. Rent wasn’t cheap near the clinic after all.

The low gurgle of her stomach drew Narssia from her thoughts and she grimaced, lifting a shaky paw to her chest. Was it indigestion? She hadn’t exactly eaten anything this morning... having felt a bit off. Oh no.

She threw herself over the washbasin, heaving until her entire body ached. Well that settled the debate about work. There was no way she’d go in now. Letting a few strands of saliva drip from her jaws as she panted, a low glitchy chuckle echoed in her ears for a brief moment before vanishing.

Waiting a few more minutes to see if the feeling passed, she sighed and left the bathroom, using the tip of her tail to flip the switch that emptied the filled basin. She’d fill it back up with water later but not now, not with her head spinning. Why had she gotten sick? It made no sense... There was nothing she’d done that would have prompted such a reaction.

Retreating to her den, she picked a chair and curled up in it, staring blankly into the unused fireplace beside her. The feeling would pass, she was sure. If not...

Well she knew what do to.

Bright lights shone briefly in one of her eyes as Narssia slowly returned to consciousness, hearing the distorted, warbled sounds of far-away voices. When had she drifted off? Not that it mattered too much now when she just wanted to sleep. Why wouldn’t they leave her alone?

“She’s coming around. Give her room.”

She knew that voice, the one that broke through with an almost crystal clear quality. Chills ran along her back, terror flooding through her system as the long buried memories rammed into her waking consciousness. No, no, no! Why was it him?! That drake was the last individual she wanted to see now. She ran away from him. She... She’d fought hard to free herself from his web of lies.

But still those feelings remained... How hard claws smacked against her snout, tearing open skin as the pain only made her want to curl up in a ball and disappear. He always screamed at her, demanding she toughen up. The world wouldn’t accept a weak little shadow-breather even though she was trying her best to be brave.

Stop crying! Those black scales you’ve got only give others the impression there’s a cold, heartless monster underneath. You want that, don’t you? To feel strong... powerful even.

She trembled, straining herself to move, to run, to do anything! Still her wings remained limp behind her back and her limbs stayed shackled to the bed for protection. Not this Hell again. Anything but this. They couldn’t see the scars... The past attempts to get rid of that thing growing inside. But she couldn’t move and the routine nightmarish memories she struggled with were bad enough but to relive it...

No, she couldn’t go through that again. There had to be a way out before she started to spiral down into the darkness of her mind. She just had to think...

You’ll be cured in no time, my dear. All those silly little fears will be nothing more than wisps of fleeting thoughts. Soon there will only be the two of us. Together.

“Unusually high... brain activity, Doc. Should we... drug...?”

Her eyes flew open, panic clouding over any and all vision as the whitewash walls of the hospital sent her heart racing in her chest. No exams! She thrashed against the chains holding her down, screaming until her voice broke in repressed anger and fear. No proper drakes trying to fix her. She wasn’t broken! There was nothing... wrong with her.

It was all in her head. It had to be! No one deserved to see her like this. She wasn’t worth anyone’s time. Even the drake had finally spat those words in her face before she...

Oh Ancients! Don’t make her confess it. It was all an accident. He- He pushed her too far. No, no, no... her tail wasn’t covered in blood as the sounds of several pairs of clawed feet thundered up stairs outside his apartment. The noise of the brief struggle had been heard despite her best intent to silence him without a peep.

She confronted him. Marched right up and ripped out his heart, blood splattering over the expensive carpet of his flat as her tailtip dipped into the oozing crimson fluid dripping down his chest and then curled around his neck. Fixing one dark iris on him with a frustrated hiss, she snapped his neck at the same time she crushed the organ in her paw, relishing the satisfying squish it gave before she threw the ruined smear across the room to smack against the locked wooden door.

So many promises... He promised to treat her, cure her even. When that failed he said he loved her and wanted to toughen her up. Well he certainly did that... although likely not how he expected. Now that monster had left yet another mark on her soul, one she tried again and again to purge.

Poison hadn’t worked. Alcohol hadn’t worked - although it gave her an awful hangover the next day though. Every glance she dared to take at her scarred, swelling underbelly filled her with such self-loathing as the months passed. Oh she knew exactly why she’d gotten sick and why her energy was all but gone, there was nothing she wanted more than to rip it right out of her body. Who cared if she tried a dozen other ways to be rid of that hellspawn growing in her lower abdomen!

“Let me go!” She screeched, trying once more to move as flickers of tiny little green lights darted by the corners of her vision. “I’m not crazy, I swear. Don’t send me back there. Don’t... do that...”

Her jerky attempts at escape slowed before stopping, head rolling slightly to one side as a heavy sigh came from her left. A single, slightly stained claw brushed against the bottom of her jaw gently to check her pulse as the weary blue eyes of the doctor glanced over at the young male sitting down in the far corner of the room awaiting news. He was lucky someone had found her so quickly this time around judging by her extensive chart. Now she wasn’t out yet but they at least had her stabilized. Last thing anyone wanted was a half-crazy healer out on a vengeful warpath...

“Ease there girlie, you may not think so but we won’t hurt ya... Pretty lucky that you have attentive co-workers.” He looked up, spotting movement outside the small individual room in the clinic’s psych wing before continuing softly to the one who brought her in. “Poor ‘ness has had emotional problems for a long while. Last I spoke with her previous doctor they thought she was on the right medicine to even her out. Hmm, I wonder what caused a flare up this bad?”

The sound of the hospital room door opening seemed to take the doctor’s attention away for a moment. Stepping inside, the aged silver dragoness politely bowed before starting forward as the young orange drake excused himself and left to allow the two experts some time alone.

“The team I sent to her location of residence after she arrived found a note on her bed that was addressed by a Geer Stormbringer. Should we try to get in touch with him? Maybe he knows what set her off?”

The lead doctor hummed softly in thought as he lightly stroked the side of her snout to encourage her to fade on off to sleep. “That would be the best course of action right now, Silvia. We’ll keep her under for a bit until things can be sorted out.”

The night air was cool when she woke, blinking sleep from her eyes as she yawned. How long had she been out? Running her tongue along her teeth, she thought it was odd they felt moist as though she’d eaten something recently. Moving a forepaw, she felt the squish of something soft and slowly glanced down, finding her paw covered in blood. Beside her lay a half-eaten carcass, the shape draconian in nature. No...

She shuddered, the soft crackle of static buzzing in the background as she pushed herself back onto her hind legs, frantically trying to get her limbs under her so to run. Where was she? It wasn’t home if the wooded area was any indication. Was she losing her mind? Sure the thought had crossed her mind in the past to seek revenge but she wasn’t a violent creature. Drawing blood just wasn’t in her nature... at least she thought so.

Getting to her feet, she shakily stood, curious about the corpse as she crept closer. It was difficult to tell but she thought its scales were purple and its eyes... No, no, no, why?!

Those wide open gray eyes were ones she knew, expression fixed in a terrified scream. Geer’s past letters to her had mentioned a lovely little female healer by the name of Melvise if she was right... No, there was no connection linking the two, was there? How would she have even known what the dragoness looked like?

‘Someone’s not real fond of the monster they are, huh? Figures you good-for-nothings are all hypocrites. Hiding behind that perfect little facade...’

The soft chuckle of laughter caught her attention immediately, recognizing the voice somehow even though she was certain she’d never heard it before. Still she stood, glancing uneasily at the corpse before shying away from it.

“Who are you?”

‘Honestly, the static didn’t give it away? Sheesh, with how messed up your mind is it makes me look like a damn saint...’ The humor dropped from the mysterious voice, a chill running through the air as Narssia pressed her wings closer to her body. ‘Turns out I need to make my appearance known before I can fully possess you. Sucks for you then ‘cause I’m not the most... No, you know what? I’ll just show you what I mean.’

Her eyes went wide, fear crawling up along her spine as she shuffled backwards from the dead dragon. “Um, do I have a choice here? Cause I’d rather not.”

‘How cute. You think you have a say here... Such a pity I need you alive then. I was really looking forward to killing someone today.’

The ground suddenly went dark, eerie green lines of code appearing all around her and glowing as Narssia panicked and tried to fly away. All she managed to do was unfurl her wings before shadowy tendrils wrapped around her legs to pin her in place.

An amused chuckle was all she earned for her efforts. ‘Yeah, good try there but not real successful.’

The most awful sound split the air, reminding the healer of a screaming group of hatchlings as she saw the creature drop to the floor right in front of her. It was primarily skeletal, with a large gash further distorting its neck as the wyvern-like look had no wing structure other than the main permanent bone and thin claws that acted like her own foretalons. Two empty eye sockets blazed with bright green light and a large almost jewel-like gem sat in the top of its chest.

She hadn’t studied about the past ancestors of dragonkind for many years but was she looking at a fallen, a Shadowling some preferred to call them even? The appearance would fit what little she remembered...

‘You know what I am. Consider me impressed, for once,’ the glitch purred, voice humming with the soft crackle of static underneath. ‘My goal however is a bit more complex...’

“What... What happened to your body? I thought most fallen lost their forms but you....” Shock loosened her tongue, making her spit out whatever came to mind. Shaking her head to try and reign herself back in, Naris met the intense gaze of the spirit for a brief moment before shuddering in fear and looking away.

‘Repulsive, I know. Blame the one hanging with that drake you like. It’s not something I enjoy talking about.’ The creature crawled closer, using its wing-claws to move forward as Narssia was finally able to retreat, immediately backing away in fear. ‘And don’t deny your feelings for Geer. I’ve been in your head long enough to realize that much. Intriguing to think he could pull you free from all those chains wrapped tightly around your mind. Some shadow-breather indeed...’

The dragoness shuddered again, memories surfacing to remind her of all the reasons why being with Geer wouldn’t work. He didn’t deserve to deal with her brokenness on top of his own issues. Yes she was aware of his disability but found herself in awe at his dedication to his job. If only she was that brave...

‘Come now, you broke the dude’s neck and crushed his heart. Pretty impressive if you ask me.’

“I didn’t,” she hissed back, lifting a paw to her chest as her steps slowed. “I never meant to hurt anyone. What do you want with me anyway? Besides my body I imagine.”

The glitch snorted, eyes rolling in their empty sockets. ‘Body and mind, dearie. Can’t have one without the other - otherwise you’d be dead right now.’

“And if I refuse to let you in?”

‘Oh you know exactly what’ll happen. Those pretty little terrors trapped up in that head of yours want to play and who would I be if I didn’t push things along a bit.’ One skeletal wing rose, pointing directly at Narssia’s skull as the fallen snickered. ‘Choice is yours, missy.’

Well that wasn’t what she expected to hear. Actually no, she somehow knew that would be the response. Her uninvited guest didn’t seem like it played fair anyway.

With a sigh she stopped in her tracks, tail swishing around her hind legs. “Do you have a name?”

‘I did. Once. But you don’t deserve to know it.’ The spirit growled, body dissolving away into a glitchy black and green mist before it swirled around Narssia predatorily. ‘Neither did he for that matter. All talk of serving for the greater good and everything left ‘em with what? A stained core that started to crack long before he... No, I won’t say it.’

“You don’t have to say it. He slit your throat, right?” Narssia felt the mist glide over her back without giving a response, teasingly swirling over her horns in a manner that made her decidedly uneasy.

‘Why should I tell you anything about myself? Here I was denied my chance at having a family but you...‘ Invisible claws stroked her snout, digging into her skin as the glitch’s words turned bitter and malicious. ‘You are far too happy to destroy yourself, trying everything to purge the last reminders of that vile doctor from your body. Speaking of which, did you enjoy my little gift? It wasn’t difficult to fish up the memories of how he sounded. How each touch left your pretty little body aflame. Deny it all you want... but you envied him, didn’t you?’

Despite herself Narssia had leaned in towards the contact, too drained to properly realize what was going on. She craved touch but yet, held herself back so often out of fear she’d get hurt again. Was that why she’d fallen so quickly for him? Every nice compliment had soothed the burns scarring her fragile heart until she gave in and let him “help” her. It hadn’t been to her benefit at all...

“Go ahead,” she muttered, closing her eyes as the glitch slid over her shoulders. “Torture me all you want. I’m not important to anyone.”

‘Ooh, abandonment issues as well. How did I get so lucky?’ The soft chuckle filled the air as Narssia stood there in silence, awaiting the next horrible bout of night terrors that would surely come her way. ‘Fret not, my dear. Soon no one will be able to break you ever again. All you need to do is say three simple words and I’ll take the pain away.’

“Just let me drown in guilt...”

The green sparks within the mist crackled, shock prompting the next words from the glitch. ‘Come now... Don’t you want release? I can give you that and still keep those precious ones alive.’

Dark irises slowly slid open, half hidden by her eyelids. “Not what I want...” Her head lifted slightly, fixing one topaz eye on the pixelated cloud before she started forward with increasingly confident steps. There was a certain raspiness present in her voice, kept low but firm. “I decide when to fall apart on my own terms, Glitch. Pester me all you want. Break open every scarring memory if you desire and see where it gets you! I’m flawed, I know that, but I don’t need a constant reminder of the darkness that lies buried within.”

She glared at the spectre as they came nearly snout to energy cloud, her eyes filled with tears of her own self-hatred. “Never will you ever reduce me to a state where I beg for your kind of release. That isn’t freedom, it’s enslavement and I refuse to be a slave again. Now get out of my head before I make you.”

‘You really shouldn’t have said that... I would have been merciful otherwise but now, you’ll only have yourself to blame when you come crawling to me in defeat.’

The dark hiss she received as the glitch vanished in a burst of green sparks made Naris feel better about her decision, only to then wonder what hell would await her because of it. Had she just sentenced herself to torture unlike any she’d known before? The Shadowling had seemed almost frustrated that she would reject the new life that was growing inside of her but maybe she could use that to her advantage somehow...

She had to hold on! Maybe something would break her free before she succumbed to the darkness it offered. No matter what she couldn’t let that monster get the better of her.

Shadows swirled around her feet, the looming outline of the dead- no, corrupted wyvern trailing behind her as she started to walk, static softly crackling through the air in reminder of who’s domain she was really in. Just survive, Narssia repeated to herself with each shaky step she took. That’s all she could afford to do now...

[paranoid-poet12]

Kylo Ren P1

Rating: M Warnings: Violence, abuse, torture, suggestive situations, and language This story is about a princess, who is given to The First Order as a gift from her abusive father, the king of planet Adamanten Orbis, a male dominated planet that enslaves women, even their princesses. She finds kindness and love, in the most unlikely of people.

My eyes were closed for most of the journey, the plunge through space, in hyper speed. The room I was in, was uncomfortably cold, and all steel plated. My hands were bound too tightly, by hand cuffs, the beams holding it to me wrists, burned me if I moved too much in any direction, and my neck shackled, with a chain connected to the wall. I looked at myself, dressed in a translucent, red dress. Underneath, was a bra, with rubys and diamonds, incrested into the seems, and a black lacy fringe, pushing my breasts out, to a point of looking like they were close to breaking out with the slightest touch. My ruffled, underwear in the same design, which followed down to a pair of red, heels that were glowing, and shimmery, they were nearly impossible to walk in, my home planet, full of precious gems down to the core. It was beautiful, and a full of wealthy people. Not only, because of the precious gems other planets paid my father to harvest, but we were paid by The First Order, for being in their support. My makeup, was heavy, a dark red stained my plump lips, with black makeup on my eyes, making the natural, green of my eyes, shine like emeralds. My long, black hair was curled, and placed into a long pony tail that rested onto my shoulder. I was gift wrapped, candy; a delicious snack for The First Order to use me as they wanted, which my father explained was our duty, to show our commitment to The First Order. He was so full of shit, and a coward. To an extent, that he would give his only daughter, the princess of his planet, to evil incarnate. He always hated me, because I wasn’t a son, and because I was the most stubborn, and hard to make submissive. I wasn’t mindless, and the maids at our palace, always tried to do what they could to stop me from being that way, to avoid the floggings they would give me, which were lasers, attached to a bendable metal, my body was covered in scars from the severe beatings, which my father told me to never turn my back to them, because they would then know I was repulsive. With me being a woman, I wasn’t keeping the blood line strong, and he continued to have more kids, until he got the son he wanted. Needless to say, he had 4 more girls before my brother, all of which mysteriously, disappeared, me being next that he needed to get rid of. Suddenly the ship came to a hard stop, and the Dreadnought came into view, as my body launched forward, causing the shackle on my neck to choke me. I gagged, and retched, scrambling to get myself back to a comfortable distance. That’s when I looked out the window, I gave out a gasp, and how intimidatingly, large it was. This ship definitely lived up to its name, dread. We pulled into the ship, the large, door opening up to swallow us whole. Soon enough the guards, came to my room. The steel door sliding open, as they walked in. One of them released me from the shackle, keeping the hand cuffs, on my wrists. They picked me up, and linked arms with me, making the hand cuffs, burn my wrists. I winced in pain, as they basically, dragged me off the ship. My father made no eye contact with me at all, as he kept his eyes forward. Inside the Dreadnought, it was wide spaced and open, but it was so dark. Weapons of all kinds everywhere, TIE fighters in rows, waiting to be unloaded on The Resistance at any given time, Storm Troopers marching with each other holding this blasters, preparing for battle. I looked forward, as a red haired, man approached us in a general uniform. He stared at me, taking in a long look, before turning to my father. “Your majesty! Thank you for joining us!” He spoke extending his arm out towards my father. My father locked hands with him, shaking it enthusiastically, the jewelry my father wore, jingling and clanking together with his movements. “General Hux, my friend, I have come with a gift for The Supreme Leader. To show my devotion to The First Order, I present to you, my daughter: Princess Priscilla Adamanten of planet Adamanten Orbis.” He announced my name as the the guards pushed me forward, almost making me fall. I walked forward, my heels echoing loudly, with each step forward. All eyes were on me in that gigantic room, feasting on me with their, scummy, eyes. I knelt down in front of General Hux, looking up at him through my thick, fringe, of dark lashes, lining my lids. I could hear every breath I took, and my heart pounded, hard against my chest, pumping loud enough for me to listen to. I stood back up, and was forced back by the guards. General Hux laughed nervously, before taking a rag out of his pocket, and dabbing it on his forehead. “Yes, she truly is a beautiful, creature, Your Majesty.” He chuckled before putting the rag back into his pocket. My father gave out a hearty laugh, “Do with her what you wish, she belongs to The First Order now,” before I could say anything, my father had unloaded precious gems from his cargo, and left in a hurry. I watched his ship launch off, with tears in my eyes. After a life of hell, I was meeting my end, probably being raped and tortured by a sith lord. I felt a blaster, shove into the surve of my back, before I was jabbed with it. “Move, girl,” His distorted voice spoke. Storm troppers suddenly surrounded me, while General Hux walked closer to me, arms linked behind his back. His lips curved into a sadistic smirk, as he approached me. I stared at him, swallowimg hard, not knowing what to expect. He then put his hand on the back of my neck, shoving me down. “He said MOVE!” He screamed at me, as I fell down onto the hard floor, the cuffs again, burning me. He pulled me up, by my hair, then walked with me. I had to practically run, to keep up with their militant, stride, one of their steps were 3 of mine. “I thought princesses were supposed to be, graceful,” He chuckled as we entered an elevator, it moved up to the top floor rapidly, I had never been in an elevator that moved so quickly. I was so terrified, not knowing what was about to happen next. I kept silent, not showing my fear, and trying to keep myself composed while I awaited what was next. The doors opened, to reveal a huge room. There, sitting in a throne at the end of the room, was a grotesque, monster, of a man. His face, sunken in, and deformed. His face, leaning to one side, on his massive head. I felt my heart leap in my chest, wanting to be anywhere else, aside from this room. I looked around people who were guarding him, dressed in red, and standing totally still. General Hux pushed me forward, making me trip and nearly fall again, he chuckled, while the storm troopers tailed him and I, as we approached The Supreme Leader Snoke. “Supreme Leader, I have a gift for you, from the king of Adamanten Orbis, Princess Priscilla Adamanten.” I knelt down in front of him, politely. Not wanting to show my disgust to his physique.“ “Come closer, girl,” He said with a sinister smile. That’s when, I began to move towards him. His hand outreached towards me, the same smile on his face. He was using the force, to propel me to him, my feet dragging on the floor of the room, until I was finally in front of him. He then, moved me into the air a few feet, staring up at me, “What a vision you are, girl,” He spat, before chuckling, twisting me around to get a good look at me. He stared up at me, before I felt a shooting pain run through my body, every nerve, shooting all over and firing off, feeling as if I was being electrocuted. My muscles stiffened, and felt rigid. I was frozen in pain, never feeling anything like this, I was unable to even cry out. “General Hux, bring me Kylo Ren,” Snoke said, continuing to stare up at me, a menacing smile, across his face. Kylo Ren… The man I have heard so much about, the murderous, untamed, monster. I just hoped my death would come soon. Soon enough, another entered the room, and approached. I was still feeling myself, being electrocuted over and over again, up in the air. Completely in the clutches of him. “You called for me, sir?” Spoke Kylo Ren, his voice robotic, and distorted. Sending shivers down my spine. “This beauty, is a gift, from King Adamanten. She’s a princess of the planet, which shows how loyal they truly are. I want to give her, to you. You have done well, my apprentice. I wish to reward you!” He said with a laugh, before he dropped me to the ground. My entire body, shook as I finally could move again and no longer was feeling the searing pain. I gasped loudly for air, feeling dizzy and scrambled. “Stand, face your new master!” Demanded Snoke, as he pulled me up with the force, forcing me to stand up right. He shoved me forward and then released me, my knees shook as I lost my balance, failing in my attempts to get myself back up. “Forgive me, my lord…” I said meekly. Snoke pulled me back up again with force, I cried out in pain as he jolted me again. I tried my hardest to keep myself standing, as my entire body felt like it wanted to just collapse. Iooked up at him, standing very tall, his body covered in black clothing from head to toe, covered with a long cape. A helment, covered his face. It was black steel, and silver, I shook in terror, as he didn’t say a word to me, except look at me. “Thank you, Supreme Leader Snoke, I am very pleased that I could make you proud enough to give me this generous gift,” He said with a bow. He placed a hand on the curve of my back, and gently, urged me forward. I walked as best I could to the elevator, where he stood with me. He kept his eyes forward, not speaking a single word to me what so ever. I looked down at my hands nervously, and sighed. “May I ask one thing?” I asked, he looked at me, without a response to what I asked, as if waiting for me to just ask. “Can you kill me quickly? Please?” I pleaded, meeting my end with these sadistic people and dying slowly, was not what I wanted. I would rather it just be over. He didn’t respond, moving his head forward without saying anything again. Keeping his intimidating silence. I looked down, remaining silent as well, accepting whatever end I would meet. The floor opened up, to a long hall way. He placed his hand again onto my back, and gently walked with me to the room he was going to. He scanned a card, and the door slid open. We walked in, and he walked me to a couch that was against the wall. It was very neatly, organized. It had all the essentials of living. A kitchen, living room, and I watched Kylo Ren, as he entered what appeared to be a bedroom, everything was red, and black. Down to the black couch I sat on. Then I realized, I was in his quarters. I was confused… Expecting a cold, cell. As he walked back out, he carried something folded in his arms. He presented it to me, and placed it into my lap, before he used the force to remove my cuffs. I sighed in relief, burn marks now all over my wrists, swollen and red. It looked horrible, and hurt so badly. I looked at the pile he placed onto my lap, before seeing he had given me clothing to wear. I lifted a bro, looking at at him, totally confused. “I… Thought I was going to a cell? Or a room that isn’t cozy. What is this that you are doing?” I asked, not understanding. “Mercy,” He said, his distorted voice, sending shivers down my back. “Why? Would you rather stay in cell?” He asked, I furrowed my eyebrows at him in confusion. “No,” “Then allow me to show you mercy. You’ve been embarrassed enough, I do not plan on hurting you, Princess.” He pointed to the restroom where I could change, and I walked in the direction. My legs still shaky from the torture I had just gone through. I looked at myself in the mirror, I looked so disgusting, like a sex toy. I took the heels off my feet, before getting out of the outfit I was paraded in, and looking at what Kylo Ren had given me. Which was a regular, black, T Shirt, and a pair of black pajama, like, pants. These clothes had to be his, that he had given me. I put them on feeling instant relief from finally being secure and not exposed for everyone to see. I took some water from the sink and began to viciously, scrub my face, pulling the fake, eyelashes off of my eyes and throwing the evidence into the trash. I pulled my hair out of the pony tail, and let it fall. Running my fingers through my hair, and finally seeing myself, again. That’s when I burst into tears, backing up into the wall of the bathroom, unsure of what would happen to me. I slid down the wall, crying harder and harder, wrapping my arms around my knees. My sobs, reverberating off the walls, throughout the room. The door of the bathroom then shot open, his masked, looming, figure standing there, looking down at me. “I-I’m sorry, my lord,” I said, hurrying to my feet. We walked into the living room, where he sat me down back on the couch, this time a pillow, and blanket on it. I couldn’t believe that he was… Being more kind to me than anyone in my entire life, even if it was a simple gesture. “May I, search your mind, princess? I wish to know more about you,” He said, looking down at me. I was confused at first, before I nervously nodded, hoping it would be nothing like my interaction with Snoke. That’s when I felt it, coursing through my mind, feeling the folds of my mind be searched through gently. Leaving me to experience each one back again, rapidly. That’s when I noticed, he came across one memory in particular, that I hated having.

“Priscilla!” Yelled my father, as he chased after me down the halls of the palace, I panted loudly, running as if my life depended on it. My feet, hitting the cool marble of the floor, and the light of the moons shining into the windows of the palace. My dress, having been torn to shreds, almost falling off my shoulders, one of the guards then caught me, I let out a scream, fighting back hard against him. My father approached, before slapping me in the face as hard as he could, first once, then twice, then three times “You think you have a choice? Women do not a choice, but to please the men they serve!” He scolded. I kept trying to break free from the guard’s, hard, grip. Going totally wild, and yelling out. “You WILL obey!” He scolded, his voice echoing through out the palace. He pulled me out of the arms of the guard, and threw me onto the ground. I tried to crawl away, but he placed a firm foot on my back, with a hard stomp. I cried out in pain, and continued with all of my strength, clawing at anything to get leverage. The guard that was holding me prior, handed him a laser, flog. He turned it on, as the bright, red lights, illuminated the dark hall. “No, no, stop!” I screamed, my father tore open the back of my dress, before striking me multiple times, the pain felt as though I had been lit on fire. I screamed loudly, the smell of burning skin, and hair, filling my nostrils. After he was finally done, he kicked me as hard as he could in my side. I cried out again, as I felt the wind get knocked out of me. “Now, be a good woman, go back into that room, and help my brother relieve some of his tension, from his long travels, like I told you to,” I coughed, catching my breath, my back throbbing and still feeling like it was on fire. “No!” I still cried out, refusing to let myself be used this way. “Where is this strong will coming from?! OBEY!” He screamed out, hitting again with the laser flog. When he stopped, he pulled my head up from laying on the floor by hair, and looked at me. “Are you ready to listen now?” My lip quivered, as I stared into his eyes. “N-n-o.” I said in a shaky voice, the pain absolutely intense. He then spat into my face, before I could release what he had just done, he balled his fist and hit me right in the face, blood immediately gushing from my nose. He shoved my head back onto the ground and angerly left, throwing things over, and hitting the walls. Leaving me there, alone.

He pulled himself from the memory, though I could not see his face, I could tell he disturbed by what he saw, that was not the only time, it wasn’t until he finally broke me, when I turned 17. Tired of the constant pain, and misery. I found it easier to give in. Now, here I was, in a room, alone with the most fearsome, warrior of The First Order, hated and feared by all. My father, loved and adored by many. One of them showing me the most kindness I ever had in my life. Tell me, which one do you think I thought was the real monster? I didn’t say anything to him, as he stood there. “I hope you understand me better,” I said giving him a close lipped smile. He hesitated to speak for a moment. “I understand what being failed by your parents is like,” He spoke, before he turned from me to walk to his room, before he shut the door, I called out to him. “Wait,” I said, his finger hovered over the button as he stood in the doorway. “Thank you, for your kindness,” I said, trying to convey that I was appreciative of his actions. He stood there for a while, before finally closing the door, it sliding shut. I laid on my back, and stared up at the ceiling. Maybe, this was not a bad thing after all, I was free from Adamanten, and the Adamantenian men who adored my shit father. I was free, but also still prisoner. Who knows what could happen here?

[nexttattoos-blog]

New Post has been published on https://nexttattoos.com/cool-tattoos-for-men.html

Cool Tattoos for Men

The removal of technical tattoos have been done so that getting a tattoo is no longer necessarily a lifelong commitment, but you still want to get a tattoo that is worth the time, effort and money it takes to get one. Educate yourself about the different types of tattoo available and those that are fresh for men can also help you make the best choice when it comes to selecting tattoo that you should get. When you find the design you want, be sure to also choose a reputed tattoo artist, so you know that your tattoo will be well made.

How to choose a cool tattoo?

Choosing where to put your tattoo is the next decision you will have to make. The upper part of the arms, the forearms and the chests are all parts of the body that are popular for men to place their tattoos. Tattoos on these body parts can usually be easily hidden when necessary and can also be partially hidden when you want to ask questions such as “let me see the rest of that tattoo” of people’s curiosity that can sometimes be romantic interests of the his. Tattoos can be a great conversation starter.

More great tattoo designs in 2016

There are many fashionable, tattoo designs that make cool tattoos for men. If you have a more aggressive personality you can choose one of the Daggers and Knives, the Design Shark or a Tribal Dragon design. Creative warrior designs are also very popular and arrow tattoos are trends in 2016. At least aggressivepersonality types can explore the possibility of obtaining a Yin Yang or Geometric tattoo. In recent times tattoos of lines or shapes like triangles have also gained popularity. If you are choosing any of these designs, be sure to research and find meanings with them. You do not want a design warrior that means “weak warrior” just because you like how it looks but do not bother to find out what it means.

Color trends to cool tattoos

The color you will use in the tattoo, you should also give careful consideration. Cool tattoos for men are usually made in black ink only, but you can find many colors of tattoos that looks good on men. Tribal designs, arrow and geometric designs are typically in black ink. Talk to your tattoo artist about your color selection before performing the tattoo. An experienced and well-trained tattoo artist can give valuable information on which colors and color combinations, if any, are best suited for your skin complexion and chosen tattoo design. The right tattoo can significantly improve your appearance and even makes you more attractive for possible romantic interests. That often can cause conversations and possible friendships with other people who also have tattoos. You must choose a tattoo design that is both meaningful and aesthetically pleasing to you. It should also have a timelessness in it, so in a few years you can still feel proud to have it in your body. Watch as many different tattoo options as you can, until you find one that is right for you.

Cool Tattoo Ideas for Boys

Tattoos can help show your physique, with your artistic placement. This, for example, emphasizes the perfect chest. The arms and neck are covered with various images, including several faces, a clock tower and much more. The neck has even more designs on it. But since each of these is predominantly black, it forms a strong contrast to the bare skin of the chest. The angel of the wings are also a classic that never goes out of style. This beautifuly tattoo highlights the physique of your back, and there is no need for another story behind it. The only question that remains is, are you a fallen angel or a white one? Owls are always the safe option, if you are cnsidering an animal tatoo. This great tattoo of an owl that rests gently on the neck and keeps you remembering to make intelligent decisions. It is completely sufficient and do not need any color to highlight the symbolic meaning. While the black ink tattoos are very popular because of their sharp contrast to the skin, the color of the tattoos can bring images to life. This tattoo is done just that. Create designs around the autumn leaves in warm colors while incorporating cool colors such as blue in the background. In addition, the black color is used to give it a 3D effect. The character of this tattoo is very urban. There is a mixture of chaos and order that presents the chaotic and at the same time very comfortable flow of an urban environment. The subtle color scheme is just enough to add a bit of life. Go for something a little out of the ordinary? This tatoo literally feels like you have printed a graphic on your body directly from your computer screen. And yet, it seems so real. This is undoubtedly one that stands out a bit from the other tatoo options. If you are looking for tattoo ideas for men, it may be worth considering this. If you are more of a spiritual type and are looking for something with a symbolic meaning, it is always safe to go with the famous ying-yang. Only this time you add something special on the side. The skulls are fascinating. They have inspired artists of all, but this only leads to a new level. A simple skull that emanates from a network of eye and mouth flux – it feels like the material of nightmares! The chest and neck tattoos are becoming more popular, so this is an exclusive design for the artist at heart. Colorful and happy, you can see the flowers, the flies and the petals. While a whole range of tones have been used, they blend well together and are used in perfect harmony. If you are not convinced by this design, I do not know what will convince you. The amazing 3D effect is really fascinating and just literally stinks in your eyes. If you want to enchant others with your tatoo choice, this is definitely a good idea. Chest tattoos are usually centered in a way that ensures that people can not look away. This skull tattoo, which is topped by a very attentive owl, is the perfect example of that. While darker shades predominate, their coexistence with pale tones make the whole picture come to life. On the other hand, the red in the background looks like blood, giving the intricate design of a bloody twist. A machine? A human being? Who knows? This tatoo perfectly presents our struggle with the fast path of life and the amazing 3D effect with all the details that make it look so real. Do you want others to look into your machine, as well as the body and find humanity inside? Is your heart steel or flesh? This fresh tattoo gives the appearance of a choker or a shackle. The eye in the neck fixedly, while the bird spread wings symbolize freedom. Most of that design is in a shade in the color black, but the reddish brown color of the additions emphasize the image. The mysterious souls, I would definitely recommend that you go for a tattoo with less color, much precise observation and maybe a classic skeleton motif updated with an owl or random symbols, from here and there that only you know the meaning of. This is another impressive tattoo of the idea that men. Unlike the typical openly morbid or terrifying images, this takes a break from tradition. In contrast, the red flowers on the black background stand out, but not in a delicate way. The strong yellow color of the eyes looking out from underneath will catch you forever. So I decided to get the manga? What about going Japanese style with some of the traditional reasons? The rich history of Japan, the warrior spirit of a symbolism all in his arm. Imagine if you immerse yourself deeply in Japanese culture, only to find your own soul samurai within you. This comic tattoo of a Chinese dragon in clouds that cover the length of an arm knows how to use color. Mainly in black, red offers a wonderful contrast to the design of the whole, making it stand out. Nothing better than a dragon tattoo when it comes to wonder. This tattoo on the chest shows the fiery beast in all its majesty, as it curves around the skin. The Chinese dragon is the symbol of male power, and this one represents it better. What could be cooler than a tattoo that gives an idea of ​​your skull. Put your hand back on your face, and you can see it transform into an optical illusion. This tattoo back hand of a partial skull shaded in black and will be sure to spin heads. The designs are new to the thing. Here both arms are covered in similar, but contrasting designs. He made use of blue ink, the delicate shading as well as the intricate design is sure to keep all eyes on you. The tattoo that covers all of the arms and the upper part of the corners of the chest, leaving the rest of the skin naked, and with it framed by ink. The intense use of black color in this dragon is what gives rise to that feeling of foreboding. The magnificent beast returns to life in the back, powerful and terrible. Everything, from its claws and mustaches, its fiery red eyes seem to scream danger. A dream come true for the cyborg secret, this tattoo will finally help reveal its true nature. Made in black ink with the bright red of the blood of the glasses, this creations intertwines internal machinery with muscles. Therefore, it represents the harmony between machines and humanity and also proves once and for all that cyborgs are real. This perfected tatoo technique is a great option for anyone who is inspired by ancient inventions and great minds like that of Leonardo da Vinci. Or you can consider yourself as a perpetuum being mobile that runs continuously like a machine. Half a skull and a lot of cold, this forearm tattoo will capture the attention of everyone as you walk down the street. The perfect shading gives the image a 3-D effect, ensuring that it stands out against your skin. A simple, but beautiful design. Two deer blocking the antlers under a man bone necklace. Made in black, they put emphasis on your bare chest. The detail inside the two animals is impressive. If you are a fan of flying and believing in mythical creatures, you might consider getting inked with something like this. The feathers are really very well made and the colors that the real magic brings in it. The tattoos also has a lot of details. One word: Comic-Com. Great vibrant colors of this stunning tattoo are the reason why you woke up in the morning to stand in front of your mirror, admiring your back. Imagine having all your favorite comic book heroes always with you? A dark tattoo that covers the upper half of the back, here you can see part of a skull, wings, crosses, and more. The black ink is used only to emphasize your feeling of images. An owl with two heads and detailed wings, this little tattoo is a beauty. Its creative and captivating design in the use of blue single point, the rest of the image. In fact, it is the blue eyes, in particular, that will leave you in a state of trance while also balancing the blue tattoo on the upper arm. Cool, masculine tattoos do not always include scary skulls or horrible monsters, sometimes they’re just designs – like this one. The bold shapes, strong lines, and fire in the neck and skull create an impressive conglomerate. This cool and colorful tattoo is for all the city dwelers who love to show their skin. Brings a very vibrant and happy tone to any observer. If you like comics, consider getting something like that, I’m sure it fits perfectly with your character. A drilling platform for the blood of a heart – what could be more heartbreaking. This cool tattoo idea is brought to life by the contrast between red and black, two colors that go very well together (even Dracula seems to think so). Who can say no to a good tatoo? If you are having a great time, this option is definitely the one to consider. Despite a single motive, it is extremely powerful and rich, and is likely to impress anyone, not to mention feeling good about oneself. Romantics love this tattoo as it reflects the soft but cruel side of love. The intense red of the rose and the flower of the beautiful shadows are a perfect decoration for your neck. Be careful that you are exposing your inner soft side. A masterpiece, this stunning tattoo is beautiful work of art made on the canvas of a bare back. The woman’s face done in shades of black is accentuated through the colored bars that will come in front of her. The upper half of the back is covered in warm tones with touches seen throughout the rest of the tattoo. Meanwhile, the beautifully arched woman, indifferent face is seen through the colors. Dark romantic dragon, flying along his arm. What a great story. Some details in red give it a very deep sense of serenity, even if the dragon’s eyes may seem vicious. Maybe you just want people to see beyond the obvious. The dragon, a powerful classic. Probably you can not lose with a dragon. They are noble creatures, they are powerful and that everyone is, no doubt attracted by their mysterious past. This tattoo is great because you do not have to exaggerate with the color, and, nevertheless, it captures all the greatness of the creature. Going back to the black ink tradition of tattoos, this cool design makes your chest the coffin of this skeleton. With several designs on the arms, the chest becomes the focus of attention with the skeleton very clearly that they have been placed inside it. With perfect shading, the creation retains a 3-D effect. Are you a dog lover? Then this is your choice. Simple, not very detailed and shady, but very powerful and cruel. And the interesting detail in the dog’s neck is that it also has a tattoo of a rose on the neck. But it’s a Rose, right? While crows are the best symbol of danger, nothing can beat this design. The incorporation of the dark feathers of birds in is widespread wings, which frequently remind people of terrible times, the head is present in their skeleton instead. If you are looking for something with a symbolic meaning that you can try to go for anchors and crowns. Or a combination of both. Remember that not everyone is fit to be king and have strong roots to counteract heavy storms. Tattoos usually have a story behind. And what greater of history, than the original sin with the serpent, the apple and that of Adam and Eve somewhere in the middle. Do you consider yourself a sinner or protector of the Truth? This snake is, without doubt giving you many options. This is another example of the stunning beauty of colorful tattoos. An inspiration to everyone around him, “Who has always anyway?” he asks. So why wait? Just get this wonderful inking creation now! It represents an hourglass with wings inside which the sand seems to be replaced by blood. It is surrounded by a laurel wreath, a reminder of power – which is ultimately in your hands. Lover of the bones? Show love, spread it on the whole of his back. This piece of tattoo art is something that everyone admires and you will always be safe, someone behind you. Imagine wearing a tank top for the gym. Speaking of artistic placement, this is another example. Covering a corner of the chest and an arm, the design is striking. Not too overwhelming, covering only the right amount of skin. On the other hand, the audacity of its lines and the tribal style is striking. This tattoo requires, without a doubt, his total dedication. It is very abundant in color and detail so unless you are a total fan of the Vikings or maybe the da Vinci code, I would not go for it. What I like about this is its asymmetric concept. If you do not like the color, in such a way, this idea is great, because despite having only 2 colors, it says a lot. For all the dark souls this may be what you have been looking for all the time. The shadows are not too strong and still information includes some sweetness. This tattoo is for those who have the courage of a wolf. It resembles someone who knows what he wants and also have the courage and mentality to achieve it. The beautiful and very detailed skin on the head that gives this tatoo very dynamic and feel. An example of the eternal fascination with skulls, this cool tattoo idea is to die for! In the hands of one of its most innovative representation, this shows two stylized skulls, one obviously male and one female, one of each arm. On the other hand, a dark brown tint is added to each, with a subtle rose embedded in the female skull of the hair, emphasizing its femininitity. One can never have enough of skeletons right? If you are one of those people who like to clash with your design options, this is definitely worth considering. Not very common in the placement, not to mention the great details.

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Life (2017) Movie Review

Checkout Life (2017) Movie Review on http://xxi.online/life-2017-movie-review/

Life (2017) Movie Review

MOVIE REVIEW

Calvin had been doing just fine before the astronauts showed up.

Granted, he wasn’t exactly lively. The single-celled, Mars-based organism had been fairly catatonic for a good 100 million years or so. But who among us couldn’t use a little more shut-eye? Given that his cellular structure is all eye—and all muscle, and all brain—one could argue that Calvin needs more rest than most.

But while Calvin was sleeping, a rover collected him (or her, or it) from the Martian soil and blasted him into space, to be examined by the six-person crew of the burgeoning International Space Station. They start pumping oxygen into his little box. They heat him up, nice and comfy. Once the conditions in the box reach a warm, primordial Earth-like state, Calvin perks right up and starts growing. Why, how nice of these strange bipeds to revive me like that, he might’ve thought to himself in inaudible Martian. They certainly seem frien—OW!

Now, it’s entirely possible that Calvin wasn’t thinking such kindhearted thoughts when the electrical shocks started. Given that Calvin doesn’t seem to possess a heart exactly, it’s possible that he woke up cackling silently, like an alien Snidely Whiplash. Cattle! It might’ve said in inaudible Martian. Bend to the power of the Old Ones! One can never be too sure about extraterrestrial beings.

But whatever Calvin’s initial motivation might’ve been, the events that follow are indisputable: Once the astronauts start a-shocking, Calvin starts a-killing.

Alas for Calvin, there are only so many humans to feed on in space. But the planet below has eight billion of ’em. Now, if only he could find a way down …

POSITIVE ELEMENTS

We don’t get to know our astronaut cast that well in Life, what with all the screaming and dying and whatnot. But these scientists definitely feel super, super bad when one of their own is threatened. And I think every single one of them risks and sometimes sacrifices his or her life to protect their fellow space-walkers to ensure that Calvin doesn’t get to earth.

SPIRITUAL CONTENT

Scientists believe that Calvin has been around for at least 100 million years. “We’re going to learn so much about life,” says researcher Hugh Derry. “Its origin, its nature, maybe even its meaning.”

One astronaut, Sho Murakami, whispers to a picture of his wife and newborn daughter, “I’m coming home.” It’s not completely clear whether he means he’s literally planning on getting home somehow (despite the creature that’s determined to kill him) or means it in a more figurative, spiritual sense—that he’ll see them both in the afterlife.

SEXUAL CONTENT

After the wife of an astronaut gives birth back on Earth, one of the man’s fellow crew members ribs him, “Do they have any idea who the father is?”

VIOLENT CONTENT

Calvin is not a gentle soul. When he’s still pretty small, he grabs hold of biologist Hugh Derry’s hand (protected by a thick rubber glove) and crushes, it would seem, every bone in it. (When Hugh manages to pull free, the hand is completely mangled, looking more like a contorted octopus than a recognizable human appendage.)

And that’s just the beginning. Calvin’s first fatality is a literal lab rat, kept (for some reason) shackled inside the space station’s lab. He wraps the poor, squeaking little critter in his grip and seems to absorb the thing alive, the rat clearly conscious until almost the end.

Calvin then moves on to people: He pries open someone’s mouth and kills him from the inside, blood floating from various orifices—both natural and made by Calvin—in weightless space. He kills another by crushing a coolant container in someone’s spacesuit: The victim eventually drowns in liquid coolant. He latches on someone’s leg, feeding on blood until that person, too, dies. He wrestles with someone in the vacuum of space, leading to another fatality. A mishap with another spaceship causes passengers on the visiting vehicle to lose their lives. Calvin fights with another astronaut in what would ordinarily be a space-bound “lifeboat,” and the results, while uncertain, are not good. Corpses float about weightlessly throughout the film.

The astronauts try to inflict their share of pain on Calvin, too. They attempt to barbecue him with an incinerator and, when the creature escapes outside the ship (he’s an extremely durable chap), blast him with the station’s maneuvering jets (which he’s trying to sneak back into the ship through). They shock the creature when it’s a more manageable size.

Explosions explode. Parts of the space station are shattered. Someone laments war and references a conflict in Syria.

CRUDE OR PROFANE LANGUAGE

Nearly 30 uses of the f-word and another 10 of the s-word. God’s name is misused once, and Jesus’ name is abused at least four times.

DRUG AND ALCOHOL CONTENT

Hugh is initially enamored with the life-form he and the team have picked up. Rory warns him that his apparent affection for the creature is dangerous. “You’re drunk on this,” Rory says. “Wake up.”

OTHER NEGATIVE ELEMENTS

Before Calvin becomes a deadly nuisance, the astronauts are interviewed by school children via satellite. One of those them asks how astronauts go to the bathroom, and Sho shows them the apparatus they use, explaining in clinical detail how it works.

CONCLUSION

In our individualistic society, to go “by the book” is often seen as a bad thing. We like to take chances, to color outside the lines, to get out of the box. As such, Life comes with a rather interesting countercultural message: There’s a reason we go by the book. There are occasions when we want what’s in the box to stay in the box.

About half the terrible things that happen in Life happen because someone literally opened doors that should’ve stayed tightly shut. Admittedly, keeping those doors shut often doesn’t feel like the right thing to do, particularly when an imperiled crewman is on the other side.

But ask folks who save lives for a living, and they’ll tell you some pretty sobering truths: You don’t dive in to save a wildly thrashing drowning person because they’ll likely take you with them. You don’t carry someone down from the top of Mount Everest, because if you do, neither of you will make it back. Life adds another example to the list: Best not to mess with super-strong, super-hostile Martian life-forms. We’re all about sacrificing ourselves to rescue others … but when we sacrifice ourselves and don’t save anyone, well, that’s another kettle of crawdads.

Life is a tense, often contrived story—Alien reheated, minus the acid blood. This sci-fi horror story could’ve easily been a PG-13 thriller without all the blood and harsh profanity, and frankly, it wouldn’t have lost a thing. But as it is, Life feels a lot like its Martian star, Calvin: a critter you might not want to let out of the box.