#they are terrifying to behold and petrifying to be faced with fighting

[meanderingstream]

The Gaothmai flesh dreadnoughts are so horrific and I love it. Abomination-type creatures, but which are also troop carriers containing sorcerers and soldiers and other flesh-craft creatures inside them, who can come out to attack you from the orifice in the middle of the tentacles extending from the dreadnought’s otherwise featureless face.

Like just a sublimely terrifying exploration of what horrors can we extrapolate from the existence of flesh-craft sorcerers and their participation in a forever-war fueled arms-race with wizards. Troop carriers made of conjured flesh the size of skyscrapers whose only facial features are the uncountable 50-foot tentacles surrounding an orifice from whence more flesh abominations emerge.

[fandom-scatteredthoughtsonpaper]

Hi hi! i think you said asks were open in your newest post? If not feel free to ignore this lol

I would love to see headcannons of an MC who, though acting brave, gets very scared of the brothers

example after lucifer and the grimoire and such? like MC slowly becomes MORE scared of them, and tries to hide it, but it's getting obvious that theyre scared if that makes sense lol 💖

Ahhhhh, sorry this took longer than it necessarily should have! I feel like I was much closer to what you wanted with this request than the other, so hopefully you'll enjoy it too ❤️

GN MC THAT PROGRESSIVELY FEARS THE BROTHERS

Living with demons is hard, especially when they're the rulers of hell, err, the Devildom.

Sure, there's the implication they're not supposed to hurt or do anything harmful to you, as you have the safety of being an exchange student, but that veil of ignorance was quickly lifted before even the two week mark of living with these brothers.

You've tried getting along with them, and for the most part you've been successful, but a few circumstances have arisen that have reminded you that these boys are dangerous demons... and you're the human that keeps poking the three-headed dog while it sleeps.

Mammon:

You're not so much scared of what Mammon could physically do, but you're paranoid that he goes into your room and rummages in your belongings and personal keepsakes. Your room is the only thing you have that you can claim as your own, and it's your sanctuary, despite it being in the brothers' house.

Of course, the brothers will periodically just barge in without alerting you by asking or knocking, but you've grown okay with that. You're at least in your room and able to see what they do in there. There are a few occasions Levi or Satan might mention going into your bedroom to retrieve a video game or book they had loaned you, but you make sure to put their item on the dresser by the entrance, so they don't have to venture too far in. You're okay with that.

You're not okay, however, with Mammon when he goes into your room unannounced. Hell, you're not totally comfortable with him being in your room unattended if he does give you a heads-up.

You know how kleptomaniac Mammon can be. You've heard enough complaints and stories to know how relentless Mammon can be in his search for anything that could give him a few Grimm from his brothers. You've talked with this greedy demon about items he's stolen, witnessed thefts a few times too.

So, you feel something akin to victimized when Mammon goes into your room without your permission or you being there. Your room emits this vibe of disturbance, and it bothers you because you don't know what might be missing or "borrowed". It troubles you more because now your room feels foreign again, like the atmosphere was plagued by essences that you know aren't yours. Your anxiety swells with paranoia, fear, and mistrust again.

Leviathan:

Oh, for the most part, you don't have much conflict with Levi anymore. Once you made a pact with the otaku demon he relaxed a lot more and invited you to hang out in his room to play games or fuss about animation qualities in animes or gush about his favorite manga characters.

It's just that after that contest of who was the bigger TSL fan and Levi, enveloped by jealousy and fury, came at you with the intent to seriously harm you, you've had this overly-suspicious fear in the back of your mind, itching your paranoia that it could happen again.

You've learned that Levi's demon form is easily triggered by extreme feelings, rather that's excitement, irritability, or the emotion he avatars over, and you can't help be irritationally cautious when that happens. It's a reflex from the panic that engraved itself into your psyche for self-preservation.

If you weren't so anxious about another envy-fueled incident involving your life you might find Levi's excitement for the stuff he loves more endearing and cute.

Beelzebub:

If you hadn't seen how destructive Beel's tantrums over food firsthand could be you might find it hard to believe this relaxed and mostly uninvolved brother would have such a temper... but you did experience it, so you do believe it.

It was a custard! They're so easy to get more of, but Beel immediately flew off the handle and wouldn't see reasoning, lashing out and destroying the kitchen. If Mammon hadn't pulled you down with him to the floor as Beel started his outraged tantrum you're positive you would have been collateral damage too, like your poor room that was unfortunately placed on the other side of the kitchen wall.

It was a terrifying sight to behold, seeing the kitchen torn asunder and reduced to broken walls, obliterated cabinets, and smashed counters, with kitchen utensils and ruined cookware being sent into flight and raining down, razor-sharp and shattered into broken edges that could easily pierce flesh.

That moment of destruction lingers, along with the intense emotion of fright, triggered whenever Beel complains about being hungry or when he meets your gaze at the table during times to eat. You immediately offer your unfinished plate to him, which he happily accepts and consumes in seconds, to appease the Avatar of Gluttony's temper.

Asmodeus:

Asmo's promiscuity and salaciousness are what unnerve you the most. He's the Avatar of Lust, so obviously you were already on your defense, but you've seen glimpses beyond the surface level to what Asmo can be like. That's what intrigues you about him, and you try to focus on those bits that slip past his perfectionistic lifestyle and narcissistic personality. At the same time, however, this is the cause of your near downfalls when Asmo tries to allure you with his physical prowess.

He's tried a few times to charm you, and you feel this invasive power trying to persuade you to give into your raw and sexual temptations, or this tugging sensation that tries to attract you beyond what you feel is comfortable. The repulsed response is usually what repels you from the power Asmo tries to flaunt over you.

He usually huffs after his failed attempt but quickly rebounds by placing his hands around you and trying to embrace you himself, which Mammon, prompted by his denied feelings and jealousy, usually intercepts in your honor.

There's a few times you've worried yourself nauseous Asmo will corner you, and you won't be able to save yourself from his lustful persuasion. There's also the couple of times he's mentioned eating your heart, so that's also worrisome.

Satan:

There's no questions that you secretly fear Satan, more specifically his wrath. You slighted him once before, and the threat he imposed upon you while you were trapped between his demonic form and an over-stuffed bookcase was enough to brand itself to your soul as a reminder.

As docile as Satan may appear with his affection for cats, deep interest for detective shows, and shared affinity of books he could and, possibly, would rip you apart and lavish in the blood that wept from your lacerated flesh and tension of your bones rebelling before snapping satisfactory in halves and thirds.

Other than that, Satan is much easier to hang out with compared to his brothers, except when he gets that cruel temperament to torment Lucifer, which you exempt yourself from if the pranks are too excessive.

Belphegor:

Terror has never seeped into your soul like this before. Your anxiety spikes to levels you've never experienced before when Belphie plops down next to you on the couch or tries to start up a conversation. Your fight, flight, freeze, or fawn system goes haywire, and you become petrified, unable to respond properly.

You either stay away from Belphie altogether or stay glued to one of the other brothers, Mammon or Beel preferably. Just in case.

Just in case Belphie's lament arises again in the form of murderous hate, gleeful contempt clouding his eyes, as his hands find their way to your neck that remembers the tight embrace his fingers engraved into the nerves of your throat, the ghostly suffocating that chokes you up sometimes if you become too immersed in the memory of a body that hadn't belonged to you.

You're also sure you remember an aching in your ribs and spine that causes you to shiver sometimes, but you're not sure if you experienced that in a dream or illusion of the timeline merging. It still bothers you all the same.

For such a sweet face and quiet voice, Belphie is a demon that decieves, and you're better off staying away from him until you're over your PTSD. If that's possible.

Lucifer:

How many times has he almost killed you? Twice or three times? Enough to be too many and to penetrate your core with panic and trepidation whenever you see that sly smile that forms on his lips. It doesn't have to be directed at you, but it's enough to launch you into a panic attack that you barely keep under control.

That safety guard of being a representative from the human world and exchange student mean nothing when you test it by being a busybody in affairs that definitely don't involve you over and over again, especially when it's the pride and dignity of Lucifer being tested.

You hear your lesson but never learn, and unconsciously you must be masochistic for how many times you've brushed death with Lucifer's anger, but you keep pushing the limits.

You can't help going to Mammon's defense when you feel Lucifer is only targeting him for personal reasons or standing up to his ego when you feel he's going over his limits. Your bravery is stupidity though, and you feel your courageous backbone turn into a central nerve system of adrenaline and fear. You're just too stubborn and self-righteous to let Lucifer do as he pleases, but that doesn't mean you're not scared out of your wits.

You've gained an intuition for when Lucifer is approaching or silently comes up from behind you, and it sends a shiver down your back almost every time you're alone together.

If you have any headcanons that you want me to write, please send them my way! I enjoy writing these out. NSFW is okay, but please know I might not do it if I don’t like it. ❤️

[megatronswaifu]

Nightlight defected from the Bots?! I must know MORE! :0

yes she did!!! it’s a long story BUT I’M SO HAPPY U WANNA KNOW MORE so i will try to do my best to relay it briefly…my writing is very abridged but it still does the job. this is the TFP version of her defection.

basically, nightlight came to earth on a stolen ship with her friends (other ocs who i haven’t really finalized – here are some doodles i did around a year ago), seiner, wheelhop (used to be named “popcorn” as a placeholder), and phase (used to be named rook before somebody pointed out that there’s already somebody named that). a gang of girls!

they are all a very silly and flawed bunch but they get along.

nightlight does not often go on missions because she is a scaredy cat and honestly isn’t very skilled at fighting, and she kind of just stays back. if she does go on missions, she usually ends up getting protected or rescued, so she tries to help in other ways.

one day, the gang of girls decides to go out on a stroll in an uninhabited (by humans) place on earth since they felt cooped up in the autobot base. there is literally no reason for cons to be around so they just decide to have fun.

sadly and very annoyingly, decepticons DO appear and they have to sprint their fucking afts off running and shooting back and hiding, until they can finally sit still enough for the biggest bot, seiner, to comm ratchet,

“ratchet!! ratchet we need a ground bridge! the decepticons found us!”

(rest of story and another doodle under cut)

ratchet pulls up a groundbridge and informs them that the bridge is on the right, on the other side of the mountain they’re currently hiding behind. they make a break for it, and sprint to the bridge. they hop right through, and to their horror and surprise, the room they hop into is purple. it’s dark. it’s got decepticons.

the ground bridge behind them closes, and the girls scatter around and run out the door. they get chased and are forced to run about what is presumably The Nemesis. they finally find a room in which nobody has followed them into or figured out they’re hiding in.

the girls begin to talk.

wheelhop: “WHAT THE SHIT WAS THAT I THOUGHT RATCHET GOT US A GROUND BRIDGE????”

seiner: “well uhh fuck obviously we didn’t go through it, what went wrong?”

phase (in cybertronian sign language, she is mute): “maybe we went through the wrong one.”

wheelhop: “you mean there was a decepticon bridge open at the same time?”

phase nods.

seiner (looking over at phase, with a considering expression): “seems like it.”

nightlight: “but, but ratchet said it was on the right…right?”

…on the “other right” of the mountain, a completely separate ground bridge sits. on that bridge’s other side, ratchet attempts to comm them, to no avail. the girls have accidentally run through another ground bridge that the decepticons were using to mobilize their own forces into the area, and had completely missed their own ground bridge because they went to the wrong “right”. they must come up with a plan to escape. seiner, being a leader-type, looks around the room. it looks like they found themselves in an unused monitor room.

seiner eyes one wall of monitors and says, “we might be able to access some sort of map from this computer. we can find our way out that way.”

nightlight: “we can’t call someone for help?”

phase: “decepticon technology blocks our signals.” she has stood up and is at the monitor, but she hesitates. phase turns to the group.

“if we access this computer, we will most likely notify the cons that we are in this room,” she signs. “as soon as i turn this monitor on, we are on a timetable. the nanosecond i get the map, we must go.”

all of them, very tense, sit in anticipation as phase accesses the monitor. lo and behold, the decepticons are notified, and a team of vehicons rushes towards the abandoned section of the ship. however, when they arrive, the door is open, and the girls have escaped the room.

meanwhile, in the airducts of the nemesis, the four of them crawl, squished, with a map of the ducts on phase’s arm-minimonitor. they traverse the map, having found a suitable way out, for several hours, trying not to get spotted, waiting for the longest periods of time for vehicons to leave areas so they can pass, and being incredibly stressed.

at one point, they must cross from a room and into a hallway to get to their last path. the hallway isn’t very populated, and only at the far end are some vehicons stationed, where nobody will see them, so although obviously very tense, they are not as afraid as they have been a few other times on this “adventure”.

first, phase, the navigator, and an expert at agility, jumps quietly out of the duct, into the room, and opens the door to the hallway. she peeks out. there is no-one. she swiftly emerges from the door and sprints to the other side, opening the other door on the opposite side they must enter.

second, wheelhop follows, a terrified but determined look on her face.

third, seiner, the big bot she is, tries her best to run across quietly.

fourth, nightlight crouches down outside the threshold of the door, propping her foot in a “ready, set, go” position, getting up the courage to run to the other side. her expression is nervous and she is shaking.

just as she is about to hop up, the voices of the vehicons down the hall they had previously not given a care to suddenly stop dead. nightlight’s helm shoots towards their position, to see soundwave, the decepticon third in command, walking down the hallway.

her helm whips again back to her friends, on the other side of the hallway, who all have their mouths open and optics wide as dinner plates. after taking a few seconds to be terrified, they all motion frantically for their friend to run to the other side as quickly as possible. but nightlight hesitates, and shakes her head frantically back. soundwave is too close! she’ll be seen! she doesn’t want to go. nightlight, with fluid pricking her optics, attempts to re-open the door they came from, but it seems it locked when she exited. she takes another look at her friends, and scared out of her spark, she curls into a ball, her helm between her legs, her arms around her kneejoints. if she stays small, he won’t see. if she stays in the crook between the door and the wall, she’ll be okay. he won’t see.

nightlight watches from between her legs as her friends sink into the room, and the third in command approaches from down the hallway, his shadow dangerously puddling closer. it passes over the floor and between her legs, and so do his pedesteps. nightlight, assuming her hiding technique has worked, lifts her helm. she is greeted with soundwave’s expressionless, petrifying helm, and one of the spymaster’s tentacles grappling her arm and yanking her harshly into the air. she shrieks, and is wordlessly taken off to some random place in the nemesis. as she is dragged off, she yelps and cries the names of her teammates in fear, but she cannot see them any longer.

wheelhop, seiner, and phase sit deathly silent in the vent they were forced to escape into. they eventually discuss; they are almost out. finding nightlight would take hours, possibly days if they were going to check literally the entire ship, because they had no clue where the interrogation rooms were (nothing much was labelled on the map). and they weren’t even sure she would be there. they could be killed, or worse, interrogated for information and then killed. it would be better to return to base and come back with a bigger rescue team. they were exhausted. after much deliberation, and despite it basically emotionally killing them do make this decision, they decide to continue on their path and escape the ship, without nightlight.

meanwhile, nightlight shivers in an interrogation room with knock out overlooking her, doing something on the monitor next to the table. she is not strapped to the table, as she is too small to reach the straps, so she is simply cuffed to one of said straps, with additional cuffs on her ankles and wrists. nightlight holds back desperately on tears. surely she will be tortured.

the little moped waits for something to happen. she expects to be killed or interrogated. there’s a bunch of surgical instruments (or, other things, nightlight can’t really tell what they are if she’s honest) on a table a few meters away and she’s about to cry. knock out is scary as the pits. she is helpless. suddenly, the cherry-red doctor is talking to someone on his comm.

and the door fucking opens. and megatron walks in.

and all her sense of decorum and self-regulation and “i should be a good bot and stay still” is thrown out the window in an instant, and she tries to jump up from the table, wailing and sure of her demise. she is going to die or be tortured and THEN die, and now, by the hands of megatron at that? she is faced with an autobot’s worst and scariest nightmare. why her?!

knock out has to yoink her back and hold one of her legs to the table, and really she’s not strong compared to him so it doesn’t take much effort. she is very small on main so you can understandably imagine how scary this looks like to the poor thing: a gigantic shadowy figure that frankly just looks like a dark tower, with searing red eyes, radiating with millennia of hatred for her kind, moving towards her. this is made even worse when she realizes the tower has walked very close, closer when she had last peeked through her servos, and is now reaching for her. she hyperventilates and cries out and kicks (or really, attempts to) when two humongous servos grab her legs, and all the minicon can do is babble pleas.  

to her surprise she feels the stasis cuffs unlock on her ankles and wrists, and she is slowly let go of to scramble away and curl up on the table, taking a second to sooth herself. nightlight eventually sneaks a look from behind her fingers to see megatron just standing there with a patient expression.

weirdly, knock out next to him with a “?????????what” look, completely baffled as to why megatron just uncuffed a prisoner. it seems he did not expect this either.

and megatron puts on his best Do Not Worry I Am Very Friendly face and says, “hello nightlight”. nightlight doesn’t respond, but still glances at him with a look of profound confusion.

and megatron sweet talks her for a while. asking her questions, talking as nicely as he can. and even though, to any sane bot viewing the scene, one would see megatron’s clear intentions of evil, our poor nightlight is immune to social cues. so, she’s thinking, “what’s happening?“ and all of this is…a lot.

eventually, megatron says, “nightlight, i’d like you to join our side.” the periwinkle bot thinks, “well this isn’t torture or death, but….” and megatron can tell she’s baffled, so he keeps talking.

“your friends left you,” he says firmly. nightlight’s face sours pitifully, and megatron continues, “they’ve already left the ship. i’m sure you heard the overhead comm announce we were no longer on lockdown.”

nightlight looks away, feelings clearly hurt, and he continues still, “they didn’t stay to rescue you. they escaped without even an attempt to come for you. they don’t see you as a valuable part of their team.”

and this very much hurts nightlight. this is exactly what she worries about, in her endeavors as a friend and as an autobot; that she is not a good and contributing team member. is she really that small, that bad at fighting, that dumb? megatron continues by saying, “but the decepticon army has a place for you.” she looks up for a second in hope, but not any longer, and megatron can tell she is very conflicted, so he changes the subject.

(and ok side note i have this idea that before tfp megatron went gladiator he was a miner. and he was marx on main in the mines and had already developed kind of a following, and the governmence was like 

“oh god oh fuck we can’t kill him he’s got too big of a following he might be seen as a martyr if WE kill him”

“well alright then government man #1 how about we put him in the gladiatorial pits. then we won’t be the ones to kill him. he’ll be taken care of and we won’t be blamed for it”

“very sexy idea government man #2!”

and they did it but megatron was tough as shit in the end and y’all all know what happened)

but anyways,megatron leans in closer as if sharing some sort of nice, secret moment with her, “i know you used to work in the mines, nightlight.” and this is true. nightlight used to work as an autonomous flashlight to give easier lighting to miners and contractors and such, in her life back on cybertron. “o-oh yeah i did that…” she replies sheepishly.

megatron: “did you know i used to work in the mines too?”

and nightlight immediately forgets she’s sitting in front of the warlord who obliterated most of their race, who destroyed their planet, and is responsible for the death of many of her friends and comrades, “you did?!” she perks up and moves slightly closer, naturally friendly. the fact that megatron was a miner is kind of common knowledge, but nightlight doesn’t know shit fuck about cybertron’s history or important figures and she just thought megatron was a gladiator before this and that’s it. 

nightlight hasn’t met another ex-miner for a while and she’s visibly excited. most of the other autobots, including her teammates, had other occupations on cybertron, and sometimes she found it hard to relate in certain situations. megatron and nightlight chat nicely for a while, but eventually megatron says something maybe a little too violent that reminds her “ah…i am talking to THE megatron”.

the moped looks down. the warlord questions her expression. “um. well. y'know,” she fidgets, “you guys…i can’t join the decepticons. you guys kinda…you guys do…bad things. sometimes. a lot of bad things.” she is not unsure of this fact, but she does not want the confrontation, so she lightens her choice of words as best she can. megatron leans down again, soft-yelling at her in his typical overly-intense way, “you don’t think the autobots have committed JUST as many grievances as us?”

and the answer is obviously NO, they have NOT committed as many war crimes as you, but nightlight falls for his manipulation and backs off, looking guilty. she’s so awfully gullible. and megatron happily grabs onto this fact and runs with it, naming off bad shit that the autobots have (allegedly) done, and nightlight is successfully freaked out.

the gigantic mech sees he’s scared her and can tell he’s convinced her, so he leans back and ends the interaction, “i’ll give you some time to think, nightlight. we will talk later. tell me your decision then.” and with that, placing his servo once on the table as if to say goodbye like a friend but not quite touch her personal bubble, he walks out. and poor nightlight is left to think, alone, about what she is supposed to do.

megatron exits out of the doors and starscream is there, and they walk off all evil-like and start talking. 

starscream begins their conversation,“well how did it go?”

megatron: “swimmingly.”

starscream: “is she convinced?”

megatron, especially evilly, grinning that nasty shark-smile: “i have left her no other option.”

and DUN DUN DUNNNN it’s somehow revealed that starscream and megatron decided to form a plan to lower autobot morale by stealing away nightlight to become a decepticon. they didn’t come up with it before this, it was impromptu when they got the alert that the girls had entered the ship. not many people defect over, and nightlight, from what they have seen, is a dumbass and is very convincible, so she was the perfect target. her friends, who were admirable fighters and were admittedly putting a dent in their forces, would be especially broken by their friend leaving them for the decepticons, moreso than if they had just killed her. so, they decided to convince her to defect so their morale goes to shit. how satisfying would it be for nightlight not to look at her friends in longing and love, but disdain and hatred when they next meet? she is weak, so if the plan doesn’t work out like they’d hoped, they can just kill her.

eventually, of course, whether she is fully aware she had no other choice or not, she says yes, and she gets her new paint job, her new symbol, her new optic color, and is successfully brainwashed. megatron and co continue their skilled manipulation, and nightlight is forced to make a new life as a decepticon, without her friends. yippee!!

anyways, if you made it here, here’s a little doodle. it’s the differences between her autobot and decepticon look! sorry it’s messy.

thank you for viewing.

EDIT: popcorn is now named “wheelhop”! so i changed all instances of her name.

EDIT2: same with rook phase!

[musical-in-theory]

Magnificently Malcontent Pt. 13

(It’s finally here!!! Thanks everyone for being so patient. I love you all so so so much. Welp, buckle up everybody. This is the longest chapter yet. It’s also the last one!)

Jameson shot up in his bed. His breath hitched and quickly became hyperventilation. The sheets beneath him twisted and crumpled within his clenched fists as JJ curled in on himself. The image of Marvin turning his back on the gentleman replayed over and over again in his mind. It was the only thing he could really see and process with his wide, all too bright eyes. His faded teal hair was a mess and fell into his face, but JJ couldn’t bring himself to fix it.

    All of a sudden, a pair of arms found their way around his torso. JJ’s trembling immediately stopped and all thought ceased except for one particularly instinctive reflex. Anti found him. Marvin told the glitch what he tried to do and now he’s come to kill JJ. That must be it. What else could-

    “Shhhhh. JJ, stop please. It’s just us. We’re right here,” a familiar voice cooed. JJ slowly turned his head to the side. Recognition sluggishly made its way to the forefront of Jameson’s mind. Chase, not Anti, was embracing him with a fierce kind of concern. JJ relaxed only slightly and let himself be held for a little while longer. It was a comfort that had been missing in his life for some time, and he couldn’t help but indulge in the temporary bliss it contained.

    The two brothers stayed in that position until reality came crashing back down on them. JJ wrangled himself out of Chase’s grasp and looked him in the eye. “I saw him. I found Marvin, but then- then I…” JJ drew into himself and signed in small, timid motions, “I lost him. He looked like he was finally himself again, but I couldn’t get him to come with me. I really thought that this would work. Why? Why didn’t it work?” JJ’s signing crescendoed. 

Chase sighed resignedly and looked back to where the other two egos stood. They had all been watching over JJ while he undertook his risky mission. Jackie stared daggers at his shoes. Chase could practically hear him berating himself for getting his hopes up. Henrik was at the opposite end of the spectrum. The grief lining every inch of his face was almost palpable. Neither of them seemed to be in a state to say what needed to be said.

Chase stood up and stepped away from JJ. His eyes wandered everywhere but where his little brother sat, tear tracks still painfully visible. “I’m sorry J, but it was a longshot anyway.” Chase paused and listened to everyone in the room gasp at his bluntness. “Marv… Mav’s not coming back. We have to just accept that and move on. Wasting time on hopes that he’ll come sauntering back through the front door is getting us nowhere, all while a real threat keeps growing stronger.”  

Chase finally found the courage to look Jameson in the eyes and immediately regretted that decision. The pure look of grief and anguish laced in his expression nearly made him want to take back everything he just said, to give him hope back and tell him that everything would be alright. Nearly. “It’s time we face the facts. Marvin is working for Anti and we have to take them both down. And I’m not gonna lose another little brother while you all figure that out.” With that, Chase turned on his heel and walked out of the room leaving three brothers paralyzed with shock. 

He truly didn’t want to give up on their lost brother, but after years of hoping for the best only to be met with disappointment and more loss Chase realized that sometimes the best course of action is to prepare for the worst-case scenario. 

    Jackie was the first to break the suffocating silence left in the young father’s wake. “Damnit, Chase,” he huffed under his breath, “I… he’s right. Fuck, he’s right. We need to stop Anti, but I can’t… I have to save him!” Jackie looked over to Henrik, and the doctor could immediately decode his real meaning. ‘I have to save my little brother. I failed Anti. I can’t fail Marvin.’ 

    Henrik nodded to Jackie and walked over to JJ. “I’m sorry, mein Liebling. You did your best, but we can’t keep risking you. You have something Anti wants. If you keep going after Marvin like this, we might lose you to him.” Henrik left a lingering hand on his shoulder and then led Jackie out of the room to go prepare for their inevitable upcoming battle.

    JJ can only stare out the door into the hallway for a couple of minutes. How could they just turn their backs on Marvin? Didn’t they understand how close he was to getting their magician back? JJ shook with anger, his hands balled into fists. He refused to just sit back and let them try to take down his big brother.

    Jameson dashed over to his desk and wrote a quick note. It simply stated where he was going and that if he didn’t come back, that he was sorry. JJ left the note taped to his door and walked out of the house with a fierce determination in his eyes. If he remembered it correctly, the spell he used to go into Marvin’s dreams created a temporary connection which he could still use to locate his magician. 

    The two wayward souls were camped out in another abandoned warehouse not too far from their original base. The dapper man made his way through the building, following the pull tugging on his chest. It led him to the signature purple glow of Marvin’s dark magic that sent enough pain to shatter JJ’s heart as he laid his eyes upon it. He sneaked a glance into the room to find Marvin in the middle of the same spell JJ had seen him perform the last time. His magic swirled from him with a ferocity JJ hadn’t ever seen from him before. 

    He took a deep breath and launched himself into the room, headed straight for his Marvin. He couldn’t see the knowing smirk plastered on Marvin’s face, one that was mirrored by the glitch waiting in the shadows. Seconds before JJ could lay a finger on him, Marvin spun around and lifted one of his palms toward the gentleman, all while keeping his other hand maintaining the previous ritual. JJ found himself frozen in place, petrified almost. 

    A slow clap echoed from the darkened corner of the room. Its owner emerged soon after and sauntered towards his puppet’s prey. “]W̷ell, w͝ell҉, w͟ell̸. ̵If͢ ͘it ̷isn’t͠ ̧th̶e ̶m͡an o͝f ́the ͠h̷ou̴r.͡ J͢a͏mes̶o҉n͞ ̕Jack̷son.̸ ͟Wé’ve͠ be͏en ̴waitin̴g͠ a l͟ong t̶i͠m̴e fòr̶ y͠o̴u t̡o g̶et here, ̧pét. Weren’t͝ ̷we̛ Marv͟in͝?” Marvin nodded his head subtly. “Alt̕houg͡h I ͡mus̛t ͝s͞ay,͢ ͜I’m͠ impre̵ssed͏.̡ I ̴didn’t͘ e͝ven͞ ͜need̨ t͟o̴ ͝h͘av̀e͝ o̵ur b̧o͜y̨ her̷e ģi̵ve ̕y͝o̡u ̸a ͘hint͜.” JJ could feel his stomach drop. He had been so sure that the hint to find the two of them was a sign that Marvin was still himself, that he could come back. 

    “Oh ye͢s,͘ and it ̴w̶a͜s ͠al͡l̵ t́oo͘ e͟as͡y to͏ get ͠hi͝m to ̧do it́.͢ ̨He̶ wa͟s ̀s̴ò eage͏r t͏o ҉pl̕e҉as҉e.̷ ͜He s͢ang like a l͏i͞tt͡le bir̵d.͞ To̴ld ̕m̡e ҉ev͟erytḩing̨ ͞abo͢u͜t̢ y̴o͡u̕ an͜d͜ ͠all th͝e reśt̸ of your f͜a̡mi̡ly.” He carded a hand through Marvin’s hair, which the magician accepted lovingly. “He w͟as j̛us͡t such̀ ͠a ̀gǫo͢d ̧li͡ttle̶ ́p͝u͞ppet.̷ No ̛m͘ore f̧èár̡,́ ̶no ̶mo͜re u̶nce̛r͜t̵ainty, no̶ ҉more h̛ard̷ ̵choi̢ces. T҉h̸at̛’s th͜e̛ th̴inǵ ab͡ou͘t̷ ͜my̶ p̶uppét҉s; They’re̸ f̶r҉e͝e͡ ͞f͠r̷om ͠all͘ of ͜thàt.” Anti glitched and suddenly appeared right next to JJ as he whispered, “Y͜͝ou̧ c̨oưld̢̧͢ be ̨͞t̛͡oo̷.”

    JJ blanched at the very thought of becoming Anti’s just as he so nearly did a measly 5 minutes into his video. “Oh ͜͝c҉͟o̴͘͏m͘͢è͢ ̢͟no̵w͠,” Anti purred, “J̢u͟s͞t͠ ͢t̴hin҉k͘ ̷òf̢ ͡i̧t̨, l̀i͘t͠tle oǹe. Y͝ou cou̷l̀d be ͝by Ma͡r͏vin͠’s̸ ͘si͢d҉e o͜nce͞ m͜or҉e.̷ ҉Yo͝u c̸oul̷d̶ ͠h͢e҉lp̛ h̡im ͞a̛n͘d b̵e̛ ҉a̷ fam̷ily ag̛ain. ͜Your b̕rothers ͢have̡ g҉i̡ve̵n͜ up̕ o͜n ̷h҉įm ͢a̛lrèady,͜ but y̛où ̢d͟on’t͘ ͝h͠ave t̢o.̧ ͞All ͝you̵ ͠h͟ave ͢to ́do͠ is śưbm̶it̛.” 

    JJ knew he shouldn’t listen to even a syllable of what the glitch demon said, but when he looked at Marvin opposing him, he wanted to give in. He wanted to do whatever it took to just be alongside his older brother again. But only for a minute. He waited for Anti to come face to face with him and then spat in his face. It was an ungentleman-like gesture, but he unfortunately was unable to use his middle fingers to get his point across. 

    “Y͠͠͠o̶̸̢u li͏́t̴̷͜tl̢e͜ ṕ̸͠é́s͢t,” Anti hissed. Just as the glitch was about to attack JJ, a syringe flew into the demon’s neck. Anti turned and growled at the people just beyond JJ’s peripheral vision, but he could see the glitch’s eyes droop just a fraction of an inch. A sedative, and that means…

    Marvin broke concentration on his spell keeping JJ frozen and flew over to the other side of the sigil painted on the ground. Now mobile once again, JJ hurriedly turned to look at his rescuers and saw his three elder brothers. A wave of relief washed over him mixed in with a pang of guilt for leaving them. 

    For a brief moment all he could do was watch as the people he looked up to the most fought with everything they had. Chase expertly handled his gun, dodging and weaving while still getting a few shots off. Henrik sliced with his scalpel and threw more syringes filled with a powerful tranquilizer. Jackie used every type of fighting style known to man to keep Anti off balance and focused on him. They all moved in perfect synchronicity, always in step so that when one went in for an attack, another was there to give him cover. JJ knew that the three of them had fought together before, but this was a sight to behold.

    JJ was about to go in to help as a distraction when he was stopped by an earsplitting scream. For a terrifying moment he thought maybe Anti had been able to stab one of his brothers with his knife, but then he realized that it didn’t come from that direction. It came from his left. Marvin. 

    JJ whirled around to see Marvin hanging limp but still upright, as if he were being held up solely by unseen strings. He looked like a puppet in every sense of the word. Purple smoke trailed skywards from the center of the sigil. JJ could hear the fighting on the other side of the room come to a standstill. He tore his eyes away from his magician and looked over at the others just as Anti glitched away. His sudden disappearance brought everyone out of their stupor.

JJ ran over to his older brothers. Henrik accepted him with open arms while the other two stayed on guard, searching for Anti. The glitch reappeared next to Marvin with a victorious smirk. He started to laugh but was cut off by a single gunshot that rang through the space. Smoke rose from the barrel of Chase’s gun and blood leaked from Anti’s shoulder. 

Any excitement that might’ve come from that small victory was stifled abruptly when they saw the same wound materialize on Marvin. He cried out in pain, but the glitch did not. “Game ̸̧͢over ̡̢̛b̷̷oy̨s.” Anti and Marvin’s voices both called. Before any of the others could make a move, Chase took another shot. This time the bullet pierced through the leg, and JJ could have sworn he heard a bone cracking from the impact. Yet again the same wound found its way onto Marvin. The man convulsed and writhed in excruciating pain. 

“Damnit! Die you son of a-” Chase trained his gun on Anti again, but JJ latched onto Chase’s arm.

JJ looked up at him pleadingly and began signing with his free hand, “No! Don’t you see? You’re killing Marvin! You’re killing your baby brother!” JJ tried to grapple the gun from the young father’s hands, but Chase shook him off.

“My brother is gone! That thing over there is just a shell that decided to lie to us for weeks, work with our torturer, and then use our best memories against us! So don’t give me that bullshit!” JJ expected there to be tears, any sign of remorse, in Chase’s eyes, but all there was to be found was a stony expression of determination and a spark of vengeance.

Chase aimed his weapon at the duo, and blood roared in JJ’s ears. Anti’s laugh only grew louder. Henrik and Jackie shouted at Chase to find another way. The world spun around the man out of time. 

And then it stopped. No one moved. No one breathed. No one, that is, except for Jameson Jackson. 

JJ looked around at the scene frozen in front of him. It seemed almost like someone had replaced everyone and everything with a wax replica, but he knew better. JJ felt a small device materialize within his pocket. When he reached in and pulled it out, he found a small pocket watch ticking away in his palm. Its silver gleam shimmered with a magic JJ had never seen before and yet it felt so familiar. He studied it closer and saw that its hands were ticking backwards. No they were counting down. He hadn’t the foggiest idea as to how he knew, but he knew that it was counting down the time he had left in this void he had inadvertently created. 

He worked swiftly. First he took the gun out of Chase’s hands and tucked it into the back of his waistband. His older brother had far too much experience with the weapon for today. Then he dashed over to where Anti stood and pushed him off balance just enough that he’d fall and give the others enough time to get out of there. His time was almost up. He could feel it, but there was one last thing to do.

JJ stepped over, in front of Marvin. His brother. His best friend. His partner in crime. Tears welled up in the gentleman’s eyes as he looked upon the sheer amount of pain held in Marvin’s face. “I love you. I will never stop fighting for you,” he signed against Marvin’s chest. He stepped back and let the scene resume. 

Anti’s eyes widened as he fell over from an unseen force. He hit the ground at the same time that JJ signed behind his back for his brothers to run. The little gentleman couldn’t see them all gape at how their little brother seemingly teleported across the room. He couldn’t see how Chase searched desperately for his gun which he no longer held in his possession. He couldn’t see how Anti squinted at him knowingly, how happy the glitch was that his long-awaited prize finally showed off his previously-hibernating power. All he could see was the fight returning behind the purple eyes staring back at him, a hint of blue intermingling in the dark.

Marvin could feel a ghost of where JJ had held his hands on his chest. The words swirled in the fog of his mind. But they weren’t soft like the phrases Anti used to keep him smothered. They were sharp, sharp enough to cut strings. 

“O̡h l͠i͞ttl̢e ̸oǹe.̢ ̡If onl͘y ̢y̡o͢u ͞ha̡d ju͟s͏t̸ wait҉e̡d ̡unt͞i͡l yo҉u͜ ̢we͏r̀e ͢i͏n my care͞ ̴to discov̷e̢r͡ tha̸t littl͞ę ̴quir̢k͜ ̡òf̴ ҉your͘s.͜ ́A ̸m͢an ou̴t of͘ time̢ i͞n̶ ̕e̵ver̛y w̧ay.” Anti cackled to himself, “You co̢ul͢d’ve̷ b͡een ͢s͞u̵c̸h͞ ̛an a̷s̕set, b̸ut ͡now yo͠u̷’̵re just͜ á ̴n҉u͡i͜sa̧n͟ce.͜ ͞Kit̡ty̵, ̨tak͘e ̛ca̛re of t̛h̡is li̷ttle p̶est, w͟on’͘t you?” Anti looked over to the numb magician, but he didn’t move an inch. He simply hung there looking back at his would-be prey with unseeing eyes.

JJ took his hand in his own and gave it a squeeze laced with an underlying message of, “I’m right here. It’s okay.” Shouts sounded from behind him, pleading him to get away from the danger, but JJ paid them no mind. He was close. He was so close.

“I’m sorry. I should have done more. I shouldn’t have let you stay isolated. I’m sorry.” JJ signed into his chest again. Blue began to overtake the dark violet in the magician’s eyes. His hands twitched. The fog lifted. The bond shattered.

Mavin collapsed to the floor as whatever force held him up dissipated. JJ barely caught him and lowered him to the floor. Next to the two of them, Anti screamed bloody murder. The spell backfired and let the glitch feel every inch of Marvin’s pain all at once. He glitched around the room violently to the point that the egos could see pixels of him in almost every corner. Then he was gone. A cold breeze blew through the building like a breath that the world didn’t know it was holding.

The others rushed over to JJ and Marvin. Henrik was the first to get to them and immediately started checking over the magician. “His pulse is weak, but still there. We need to get him back quickly.” Henrik tried to get JJ to give him to Jackie, but Chase pulled the good doctor back.

“We can’t bring him back to the house! How do we know he won’t try to attack the minute he wakes up?” Chase looked close to hysterics. The father was spiraling. He had no clue as to what just happened. He looked desperately for Henrik to give him reassurance, but there was none to be found. Henrik shrugged him off and went back to try to get Marvin to safety. Chase could only watch as they all carried off the same man who was their enemy only two minutes ago, but if they were determined to make this mistake then Chase was going to do everything in his power to make sure they wouldn’t reap the consequences.

Marvin woke up days later on the cot in Henrik’s room. Next to him sat JJ, fast asleep in a chair with his head resting on the side of the cot. Henrik was busy preparing materials and medicines that would be needed for the next several weeks of recovery, and a hint of red peeking out from the entryway told him that Jackie was nearby guarding the others. None of them had noticed the magician had awoken yet.

He tried to slowly push himself up into a sitting position, but a searing pain in his shoulder kept him down. He let out a sharp hiss of pain that garnered the attention of all three brothers keeping watch. JJ of course started making a fuss about him, checking on his well being, only to be pushed out of the way so that the actual doctor could take stock of his situation. Jackie also found his way into the room. He especially looked like he hadn’t slept at all since Marvin had been brought back.

“How are you feeling? Any dizziness, nausea?” Henrik pulled out a penlight and shined it into his eyes. His eyes flickered back and forth between the monitors and his little brother.

Marvin groaned in response, “Everything hurts. I haven’t been in this much pain since Jackie convinced me to test my flight by jumping off the roof.” A surprised snort came from across the room. The hero had almost forgotten about that day. 

“But you’re back? You’re… you?” JJ signed hesitantly. Marvin stared down at his blanket for a long while before nodding.

“Yeah… yeah. I’m me. And I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. I-” Marvin devolved into sobs. Jackie and JJ pulled the magician into a hug despite the doctor’s half-hearted warnings to be careful. 

“No, hey none of that, man. You’re safe. You’re back. That’s all that matters. Honestly we should be the ones apologizing. We almost gave up on you. So, heh, why don’t we call it even.” Jackie gripped his non-injured shoulder.

“I’d like that. I just want to move on.”

A voice cut through their respite, “We can’t all just forgive and forget, you know.” Chase stood in the doorway, his anger thinly veiled, and as quickly as he arrived, he vanished back to his room. A small part of him was relieved to see Marvin alive and recovering, but that part was drowned out by paranoia and the sting of betrayal.

“Don’t worry about him. He’ll come around. I swear.” JJ squeezed Marvin’s hand.

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’m just glad to be home.”

(Holy shit! I can’t believe I finished this! Thanks so much for sticking with me through my first very big project. I have loved every minute of it, and I hope you did too. There may or may not be a shorter, sweeter sequel in the works as a way of saying thanks for being patient with me. I really hope y’all like how this ended. I sure do.)

Taglist:

@beerecordings @rachelclutch @egopocalypse @hexatrash @nikkilbook @egos-n-others @antibeaneverybody @whydoilovesomanyvillians @aether-mae @the-rampaige

[liv-andletdie]

some fic ideas if you're still taking them: **link kinda looks forward to the red moon. It's bittersweet cause he is in more danger but at the same time at least he gets to hear her voice and knowing she is alright (and hearing her being worried abt him) makes him feel some comfort. **link and zelda adopt a puppy or a big dog (just the idea of them having dogs, they would be that kinda couple no doubt about it)

Hey hey hey, I could only pick one prompt to work on and I went with the angst of the Blood Moons. Don’t worry though, I will be writing something about BOTW Link and Zelda adopting a dog in the future (because that idea is to cute to drop) so keep your eyes peeled for that xxx

(This one ended up being quite short, sorry)

And now without further ado 

“…

 Link…

Link…

Be on your guard.

Ganon’s power grows… it rises to its peak under the hour of the blood moon.

By its glow, the aimless spirits of monsters slain in the name of the light return to flesh.

 Link…

 Please be careful”

He’d been out in the wilderness the first time he had witnessed the blood moon rise. The sky turned a deep purple, the moon a dark red. Malice hung in the air and every hair on his body stood up in fright.

Then her voice, her beautiful calming voice, cut through the darkness like an arrow of light. While the words she said were terrifying, Ganon was only getting stronger, her voice reminded him that he wasn’t fighting alone.

He clung onto that moment, desperately trying to remember why that voice felt so familiar. And then it was gone.

The Moon shone like desert bleached bones against the black velvet sky, the scent of fresh fallen rain washed away the odor of blood, and the malice evaporated and the air was fresh.

And the Hero was alone once more.

—

A month passed, and the Hero found himself in Kakariko village.

He’d arrived a week ago, exhausted and covered in blood. He’d practically collapsed into Paya’s arms as she came to meet him. The poor woman had been horrified to see his Hylian tunic stained and torn.

“You should see the other guy” he had assured her, leaning against her in an attempt to straighten himself up. Paya had led him to her grandmother, and he was offered a place to rest while he recuperated. She had stayed by his bed, pressing a cold rag against his head as he murmured and mumbled about electric Lizalfos and blue Bokoblins. She comforted him, waiting for his strength to return.

By the third day, Link had found his strength had returned enough for him to take short walks in the village. He spent his days cooking with Cottla and Koko, practicing his archery, and sitting at the foot of Ta’loh Naeg shrine watching the clouds.

It was at the foot of the shrine that he felt it. The air turning sour and heavy. He’d stayed out much later than normal, loosing himself in the patterns made by the stars. He had been about to leave, to head back to the Matriarchs home and assure his friends that he was safe, when the sky got dark.

He recognized it. The sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach, the terror coursing through his veins. Casting his frightened gaze towards the moon, his blood ran cold. The normally friendly Luna sight was stained a deep blood red.

He wanted to run, to jump off the cliff he was standing on and flee to safety. But fear petrified him. The air seemed to suffocate him, pure hatred and malice fell from the sky like ashes from a blazing fire.

He collapsed to his knees, praying for the blood moon to disappear. To return to his relaxed days of cooking with the children and sitting in silence with Paya.

And then, he heard her. Her soft voice breaking through the terror, freeing him from his invisible bonds.

“The Blood Moon rises once again” she warned, the caring tone in her voice soothing the young Hero. “Please…be careful Link”

And like that it was over. The colour drained from the land, only the blue light of the ancient shrine behind him was visible. Link was alone upon the cliff top.

Be careful Link the words echoed around in his head. Be careful. Could it be? Could it be that the owner of the beautiful, mysterious, voice cared for him? Link wasn’t sure but the thought strengthened his heart.

—

Impa said the voice belonged to the princess. 

It would make sense Link thought. The voice was definitely regal, an undercurrent of authority ran through the words. But there was something that didn’t feel right. Link had always imagined the Princess to sound older, to sound harsher, to be more stern and deliberate with her choice of words. He never expected for his Princess to sound so … scared.

He brushed the thought off immediately. Impa must be wrong he concluded, the voice had to be that of a fairy or a goddess! For no mortal could sound so heavenly. Only a divine creature could chase away the darkness of the Blood Moon

Though the thought still lingered…. Maybe Impa was right.

—

Months came and went, each new lunar cycle brought about another Blood Moon. And the Blood Moons brought him her voice.

Each terrifying night concealed a gift. The gift of knowing that the holder of the voice was safe, that she was persisting in times filled with malice and bloodshed It brought a warmth to his tired and battle weary heart.

He came to savour the precious seconds each month, when he could hear her musical voice call out to him, begging him to be careful, warning him of the imminent dangers. In those seconds he didn’t feel alone. In those beautiful seconds he could imagine she was standing with him.

Link realised very quickly that he had fallen in love with the holder of the voice.

If she is a goddess or a fairy I’m only setting myself up for heartbreak he warned himself, watching as the moon was wiped clean of it’s bloody hue.

He continued on his trek, Impa had told him that he must free the Divine Beasts. A heavy burden for one such as he who still knew nothing about his life before. The Old King had told him he was a brave knight cut down in the heat of battle, The Ancient Sheikah had told him he was the princesses only confidant. But he had little proof for either of these claims! All he knew was that he woke up one day, in a place surrounded by trees and wildlife, and was immediately expected to start saving Hyrule. A Kingdom that hadn’t existed in 100 years.

Not for the first time, Link wished that he could hear the voice again. The voice that had woken him from his cursed sleep, the voice that calmed him during the rise of the Blood Moons. He missed the musical tone, the angelic soprano that eased him in his darkest times.

His surrounding began to look familiar, he noted as he carried on. He was walking next to a lake, the clear waters lapping against the wet sand. A sparse forest bordered the waters, white trees reaching for the sky. In the distance Link could see the Dueling peaks, the twin mountains that touched the clouds.

A strange feeling began beating in Link’s heart. With shaking hands he unhooked the sheikah slate from his hip. The Princess left me pictures he told himself searching through the album pictures she hoped would regain my memory.  

Finally he found it, the matching skyline.

Suddenly his vision went white, his senses deserting him. In a moment of blind panic Link almost dropped the artifact in his grasp. Then sight returned to him.

He was walking behind a woman. The same sand crunching under his boots, he wore a tunic of pale blue, and on his back he felt the weight of the sacred blade.

“From here, we’ll make our way to Goron city” the woman said. He noticed she was holding the slate, He wasn’t sure why but she seemed… familiar. Almost as if he had met her before. Her face was hidden from him so he couldn’t be sure, but there was something about the way she spoke that made him trust her.

“Then we’ll need to make some adjustments on that Divine Beast so that Daruk can manage it as easily as possible” Who’s Daruk? He wanted to ask, What Divine Beast? But his words failed him.

“He’s figured out how to get it too move” Good for him “However it’s apparent that we still have much more to learn.

“But to think, that Divine Beast was actually built by people…” Link couldn’t miss the wonderment in her tone, He felt himself get swept up in her excitement. Even though he had yet to see a Divine Beast in person, he somehow knew that they were something to behold.

“That means we should be able to understand how it works and use it to our advantage.” Link wished she’d turn around. It was becoming maddening! He wanted to see her, to know who this achingly familiar woman was in front of him.

“These Divine Beasts… so much we don’t know… But if we want to turn back the Calamity Ganon, they’re our best hope”

She began to slow, coming to a stop at the water’s edge. Link fell into step behind her, keeping his distance. He could see her hands tighten around the slate, and he braced himself for what would happen next.

“Tell me the truth…” She whispered, moving her head to stare over her shoulder. Link was caught by how beautiful she was. The setting sun shining behind her, cast a golden halo around her head. She looks like a goddess he thought, taking in the sad look in her soft emerald eyes

“How proficient are you right now, wielding that sword on your back? Legend says that an ancient voice resonates inside it. Can you hear it yet… Hero?”

The world faded into white once again. And Link found himself standing where he had been before. The slate held firmly in his grasp.

It was a memory

His heart felt heavy, and he realized too late just  how he knew her voice.

—

The next Blood Moon rose as he expected it. The air became thick with evil. It seemed the closer he was to the castle, the more potent and poisonous the environment became.

He was standing in the entrance to the Woodland Stables, watching and waiting as the moon took its place in the sky. He’d long since stopped feeling fear at the rise. The other guests hid, taking shelter from the purple sky, the hero paid them no heed, stepping out into the acrid atmosphere.

“The blood moon rises once again” She told him, his chest feeling light at the sound of her voice. She was alright. She was holding out against the Calamity.

“Please… be careful Link”

“I will… Zelda” He promised “I will” He felt the air turn lighter, a silver tear trailing down his cheek.

He turned and walked back into the stable. He would hear from her again at the rise of the next Blood Moon.

[cheerysociopath-blog]

Drabble#4

He’d seen dying people before now, the same as he had seen corpses; some of them, the dying and the dead, had been friends. Some had been family. Some had been enemies he had never known the name of, only that they were on the opposing side.

He’d seen buildings come crashing down, a thick smog rising like mist and billowing outwards, and he’d helped demolish them. He’d helped build new ones which were cold and out of place in comparison.

How many terrors can one man bear witness to and hide behind a smile, a shrug, and a deeply burning hatred? The answer is legion. Uncountable. Unnumbered. Yet walking in to that ward, peeking behind the drawn curtains to see a sick face? That broke him. It broke him when he heard she was getting worse and her body was not responding to treatment.

After that he didn’t visit for a long while. He was argued with, resented, and chastised for it, but he couldn’t go back. He couldn’t look after Sam so he let Grammy take her. He couldn’t even look after himself. Life spiraled out of control, out of meaning, and it went down, down, down.  His compassionate leave was spent doing what no man like him should: he cowered at home, avoided all responsibility, and stopped fighting for once. He gave in and splintered.

An afternoon call changed that however; it opened his eyes. They were already blinded by the harsh truth, but they could still see that now was the time. He had to return there and face his demons. He had to be brave.

“She’s a very sick woman and right now, we can’t really tell you how long she has left. The cancer has spread and with the condition she’s in now, we don’t want to give her any more chemotherapy; her body cannot handle the recovery. The calcium levels in her blood  are still at a high, though they are fluctuating with medication, but we cannot operate this time. She’s far too weak. It might be wise to start making everybody aware...”

She had never been weak. That word did not describe the person he knew and loved. But then again, things were changing: he himself couldn’t be strong as he always had been. Nobody could. Strength was an ocean they had once bathed in, but now the tide was out. Now, the ocean was dry. There was a drought, a tap had been left on somewhere, and the banks were filled with thirsty beggars.

When he peeked past the curtains again, after so long, he nearly turned and walked back out. Nearly left and just vanished; her face was so white that it had a yellow tinge, her clumps of hair matted and dry, and she breathed with the noise of a rattlesnake. But she had seen him, so he couldn’t run away.

Her heavy eyes sparked dimly and frailly she smiled from her bed. “Baby... you came at last...” she breathed, not hating him the way everyone else did for running away. Even now, she forgave his selfish ways and loved him. Whatever he had been able to glue in place for this moment shattered and his emotions dribbled out through his eyes. 

At her bedside now, holding her hand tightly in his, forcing himself to behold her fading face. She was several shades of a shadow of herself now, beautiful in a tragic way that made him both love and hate her; not that this was any of her fault, but a part of him despised her just for not being able to fight this, win, and come home to him and Sam.

“I seen this guy in the hallway,” he weakly smiled, “all in black. Had a cowl and a scythe. He said he wasn’t comin’ to this ward, that I could keep you. He said he wasn’t gunna tango with you.” A joke made softly, as though uttering a prayer, and it was. Just in his own words. This was the only way he could manage to tell her she’d get better, knowing it to be a lie that he wanted to be true.

She was too weak to laugh, so instead she gave a fluttering smile. “I’ve had a good life... no regrets.”

He looked away, hating those words. There was only one regret anybody should have when they die, and that was that they were dying. That the end had come, the dream was over. “Don’t talk like that,” he mumbled with a sniffle. The smell of the ward was beginning to get to him: he hated hospitals, feared them really. He swore they had a smell, that he could smell the sickness in the air.  He felt like he needed a shower.

“The doctor explained it all to me, Beck... and I don’t even care anymore. I’m just... I’m tired now. I don’t care about anythin’ anymore... just that you take good care of Sam and... and yourself.”

“I can’t do it without you,” he said, the final word coming out as a warble that made him stop, taking a deep breathe. He closed his eyes, shaking his head. “Can’t do nothin’ without you.”

“You listen to me,” she said with as much strength as she could. He looked at her once more and saw she was holding her tired eyes open as wide as possible, trying not to fall asleep so she wouldn’t waste this visit. Trying to be defiant, the way she was born to be. “You’re gunna love our baby and you’re gunna make a good home for her... you’re gunna be a dad to her like always, you’re not gunna stop. You’re gunna live and maybe... maybe one day, you’ll meet somebody else... but they won’t be as good as me. You do it, Beck, or... or so help me, I’ll haunt your ass. You hear? If you ever... ever loved me...” and she crumbled all over again, letting her tears fall. She wasn’t sad nor angry. She was terrified for him and their daughter.

She turned her head away. “D-Do what I say and do it right, Beck. My momma and daddy will h-h-help you out, but... don’t you ever give it all over to them. Don’t you do th-that.”

He began crying all over again, his heavy heart screaming no, but he made himself nod. “I will,” he said, just to make her feel better. Just to cure her and leech the poison from her.

“Promise me... promise me, Beck...” she breathed sleepily, her face turning groggily towards him. Her eyes were struggling to stay open but they would not close. Not until he promised; because he always kept his promises and had never made one he couldn’t fulfill. She knew, she knew if he promised he would do it.

He looked away, wiping at his nose and face, not wanting to. Promising it meant he would have to do it, and he didn’t believe he could. He didn’t believe he could be a good parent all by himself and he didn’t believe he could go on living after this. His world was crashing around him and all he could do was watch. Powerless to stop it. This was a battle he could not win.

“Beck...” she breathed with a touch more passion, her hand twitching in his.

“I promise you,” he heard himself say, miles away from this moment and hiding away. It hurt like hell but he did it anyway. He had always been a fool for her, so why stop now?

When he looked over at her again after some silent moments, she was sleeping fitfully, looking pained. Yet he didn’t dare run away now; he no longer wanted to run from her or the end of the dream. He wanted to watch, the same way he had years before with faces that he had known or never met before. He wanted to witness. All because he was petrified of the idea of living with regret, that he hadn’t been there for her when she truly needed him. He’d abandoned her for long enough, spent long enough in his own pit of despair; now he had to be brave again.

He couldn’t win this battle, no, but the war afterwards, living in the aftermath and doing the right thing, was a war he could fight his damn hardest to win. For her. For Sam. For the dream they had once believed would last forever. 

[refusaltobow]

The Massacre of Tear (and the Finding of Antal-Lei)

The ground shook with the pounding of hundreds of clawed feet. Snarls and roars echoed throughout the day, even as the evening drew in, the force could not be quelled. The screams of the Dunmer were drowned out by the clash of metal against the dull thud of wood. Arcane ice cracked and spliced the air, spearing yet more bodies.

Spears sung through the air as more and more of the Saxhleel poured in through the gates and over the walls with terrifying ease. Like ants they were unstoppable and easily overpowered their former masters. Blood painted the once proud buildings, the city of Tear was in ruins - half or more claimed by the swamp. No one had been prepared for this. In fact, no one could possibly comprehend how the Saxhleel were so powerful and just why they they were so prepared for war.

As the citizens of Tear tried to flee, they were blocked off at every turn. Every possible exit only greeted them with yet another snarling Saxhleel. Children were screaming, some Dunmer had collapsed on the street, holding loved ones now slain. Some sought refuge in houses, but it was no use, reptiles always find a way in. Some Dunmer had opted in desperation to play dead whilst others took their own lives, not willing to fall at the blade and teeth of a Saxhleel. You see, a Saxhleel can hear a heartbeat. Many hours after the main attack, when dawn had risen the Saxhleel stalked the streets, finding those who were playing dead and sending them to join their ancestors.

But even as the Dunmer - many of whom were not warriors, had never picked up a sword in their life or cast a spell - pleaded for their lives it did no good. They were only greeted with snarls and that guttural yet bird-like language of Jel. Unlike their former masters, every Saxhleel learnt to fight from hatching. If not a Shadowscale, you still had to learn to fight and defend yourself - every day was a matter of survival in Argonia. And given how a Saxhleel could have been captured for slavery at any moment or whisked away by whet-fangs, every Saxhleel child was trained to defend themselves. Moreso, the ability of their cryomancers was something to behold - these mages did not just stand there and occasionally run about, keeping to the back. These mages were in the thick of it - fighting with their brothers and sisters as magic shot from their hand, feet and tails.

But this nightmare could not simply end there – the Saxhleel looked monstrous. Ranging from 15-20ft tall with huge claws and teeth, glowing eyes and impenetrable skin. The Oblivion Crisis had only been six years ago and it would appear they had retained their monstrous forms brought on by the power of The Hist. It was almost as if The Hist had know what would befall the Dunmer a mere 5 years after the Gates to Oblivion had opened.

The fury and anger with which the Saxhleel fought was simply terrifying. The Dunmer of House Dres were being forced back, their wizards were failing miserably. Whilst not all of House Dres was here, several important members were. All would be victims of this massacre.

As more spears, poisoned darts and arrows assailed the sky, any living Dunmer began to race towards the keep of House Dres. But the Saxhleel were faster, falling on the race that had inflicted thousands of years of pain upon them, tearing out throats and severing limbs.

As the ‘lucky’ few reach the doors, the guards could only look on in horror as the remaining Dunmer fought and fell, not just against their former slaves. But against their own kind - unlike them, the Saxhleel had no problems with necromancy and now, to their disgust, the Saxhleel were raising the dead. Of course, not a single Dunmer saw the irony - for hundreds of years now, House Dres had been taking the skin of Argonian slaves and wearing it.

As the doors were slammed and bolted, any furniture was piled against it.

“We’ve got to get out! there must be a way out!” one guard yelled from by the door.

“There’s a tunnel, in the basement.”

“That’s collapsed and flooded.”

“Well, then, who here knows levitation spells?”

“Me!” three Dunmer raised their hands only to look crestfallen.

“You three - go! Get out! Warn the rest of Morrowind!”

“But-”

“Go!”

The trio nodded and began to rise into the air before find their way out through a window. This only highlighted the issue that the Argonians were going to get in through those windows. Even as the three Dunmer drifted with haste through the windows screams were heard. Much to the trapped Dunmer’s horror they saw a spear pierce one, ice another and the third was taken by a Saxhleel that had obviously climbed the wall and jumped.

By now evening had fallen, the light closing in fast.

“We have to try the tunnel.” All turned in alarm to see Relves the current leader of House Dres looking utterly hopeless. Try as he might, he was struggling to put on a steely resolve. It was almost like he had already given up, like he knew there was no chance of escape.

He turned on his feet and was about to lead the way down when he stopped, hearing his name being called, he turned to see his wife, dishevelled, terrified and with tears running down her face, as she ran down the stairs. Clutched against her chest was Relven, their son who was screaming and crying, terrified by all of the noise but clueless as to the danger. He was barely a year old, at the sight of his child, Relves felt anger boiling within. How dare these filthy lizards come here?! How dare they take his city?! His son had barely started life and now it would seem it would be cut short so cruelly.

“Andayne!” he exclaimed, wrapping her in a hug as she crashed into him. Much to his shame he felt his eyes sting with tears. Holding her close, he was quickly snapped out of his temporary sanctuary as a guard called to him, touching his arm.

Breaking away, he pushed Andayne towards the stairs and was about to turn and make a last stand.

“Relves please! Just come - you won’t last five seconds!”

Realising her to be right, especially when Argonians started to funnel in through the windows. Argonians that looked suspiciously vampiric given their eyes were glowing. He turned on his heel and, taking her hand, he joined the survivors as they charged down flights of stairs before reaching the basement. A guard flung open the trapdoor revealing an ominous dark hole. A magelight was summoned to reveal the passage to be partially flooded but overall it was accessible.

Overhead they heard the snarls of the invading Argonians as several guards ran off to fight them. Relves took Relven from his wife and quickly eased her down. The moment she was in, he passed their child down to her. Telling her to start running, he quickly jumped down to catch up to her. Taking her hand, they led the charge of terrified Dunmer down the passage. His anger had long since subsided to be replaced by a new emotion, one he had never felt before. Yes he was feeling scared, but this was terror, an emotion alien to him having never felt remotely scared since a child. And now he was petrified. He could hear his blood pounding in his ears as this new emotion towered above all. Helplessness. He felt helpless.

How could those barbaric, uncivilised beasts attack with such coordination? They were so swift, so ruthless. When he had woken that morning it had been peaceful, by midday screams had already started to echo from the edges of the already-fallen city. Half claimed by the swamps in the Red Year.

This emotion crashed down on him as he rounded the corner to see what he knew must be there and yet he had been praying would not be there. The passage was caved in.

Crying out in horror, knowing there was no way they could blast through all that. He turned to his wife. “I am so sorry.” tears were now streaming freely down his face, crying silently. How could this be?! How could he of such a proud race die here, underground?

As the remaining Dunmer caught up with them only to break into sobs and screams, seeing their fate was quite literally sealed. Relves took his wife in a firm embrace. If they were going to die here, then they were going to die in eachother’s arms. Looking down he felt his stomach sink to see her wide terrified eyes staring straight up at him. Given he must have looked a wreck himself, she was no doubt losing any thread of confidence. All he could do was swallow nervously, press a kiss to her forehead and hold her close, as he did his best to still his weeping.

As the the adults cried and clung to each other, many sobbing in silent with shattered, broken breathes. It was quiet, save for the wailing of the infant. Even that died down as the tunnel had grown incredibly quiet.

It was perhaps one to two minutes of pregnant silence, the air was static with tension. It was like everyone had stopped breathing, as if hoping that would save them (as if to reinforce this they stood in utter darkness, having extinguished the mage lights). Deep down, they knew it would not, they knew argonians to be a beast race with superior senses. They could smell them from two miles away.

Andayne gasped as the sound of distant splashing echoed throughout the tunnel. It was slow and precise, as if the one who was approaching was taking their time. As if they wanted to prolonge the agony subject to the Dunmer. The splashing grew louder, as it did it became increasingly apparent that more than one lizard was down there.

It was so close now before it stopped. It was pitch black but all the Dunmer knew what was mere paces from them. Even if they did know that did not stop them from whimpering and screaming as the cold blue light of mage lights flared into existence. Relves pressed Andayne against him, her face buried in his chest whilst he turned Relven away to shield them from the nightmare standing before them.

The Argonians that stood before them were not the malnourished slaves, these were 20ft tall, so tall they were hunched over in the tunnel. Towering figures of armoured scales and so much muscle it was unbelievable. Their scales glistening with blood and without a single cut. Their teeth huge and eyes glowing with a fury like the rage of Red Mountain.

Relves stared straight into the eyes of the closest lizard in what he hoped was a defiant face of anger. His eyes were cold, hard and fuming but his voice had left him. He was unmistakably terrified. To be faced with this thing whose jaws would effortlessly rip him asunder.

“How quaint, that you hide yourself down here. Selfish as always, you cower in here hoping to your pathetic Daedra that we would somehow miss you. Tell me, how could we possibly pass up the opportunity of arresting the Arch-Slaver of House Dres?” The hate spilling from the reptilian’s mouth was so great that ‘hate’ was but a weak word to describe it.

“That is n-“

“Silence, wretch! I know it isn’t but Idon’tgiveadamn, I’ll call you what I like, you bastard,” hissing and spitting venom-tainted saliva upon the Dunmer who slowly felt himself shrinking before the monster. “One more word from that diseased mouth of yours and I kill her right now.”

A clawed finger was raised at Andayne, and for once the typically arrogant Dunmer had no words. Relves knew he had to obey, as much as he detested the idea though failing to see the irony of it all. Only disgust that he must bow to the will of such an uncivilised creature filled him. That tone, the way that thing was gazing at him with such a threat and bloodlust told him that this creature was not lying.

Lips thinned though the fury in his eyes was but a trickle of its former self, he was trying so hard not to let the mounting fear overwhelm him. All he could do was clutch his wife and son closely to him.

He would not cry. He could not. And yet his wife was quietly sobbing and his child had started wailing once more. Is this really how House Dres would end? Ravaged by bloodthirsty monsters. A sea of blood swept up by screams. He felt numb, like this was all some horrific dream and at any moment he would awaken with a gasp in the quiet, still night.

It was only now, now that he knew all of what he was about to loose did he feel an overwhelming sense of sadness. Of finality. He refused to even think it but in the churning pit of his stomach he knew he had lost.

“Good boy,” the creature murmured in a condescending tone, the sort --- had used countless times when addressing a subdued slave. There was a pause before the reptilian beast broke its gaze on the Dunmer, glancing at another reptile. Barking something in Jel, the silence hung for one more dread-filled second before the lizards leapt on the various Dunmer. Fresh screams unleashed, Relves fought to keep Andayne at his side, doing all he could to fend off these monsters.

But it was no use, these creatures were far too strong. Stronger than Orcs it would seem. With ease, they wrenched Relven away from the now-frantic Andayne as she kicked and screamed, crying out in desperation with a voice rapidly growing hoarse as she bit back at the lizards. Doing all she could to protect her son with her body as she tried to curl inwards and away. Even the ferocity of a desperate mother was useless, despite her new-found strength, Relves could only watch helpless for he was now restrained, (the one whom had a hold on him unflinching at his kicks and stamps) as his only child was torn from his wife’s hold.

The child’s bawling erupted and echoed throughout the tunnel, firing the horrific thought that these barbarians would eat this poor innocent child alive right there. So it was perhaps most queer that this child was immediately silenced by a magic-induced sleep and carried off almost instantly.

Relves could only watch, limp and resigned, as his son was carried away in the arms of these uncivilised monsters. He would get his son back, he would. He just had to cooperate for now and surely he could at least ensure his son was set free?! But all his promises and hopes would be for nought, deep down he knew it already, like a minor itch at the back of scalp. Deep down he knew that he would never see his son again. Who was he kidding? There was no escape. His son was gone.

Only as his child faded into the darkness of the tunnel, did he feel his eyes sting from the salt of a tear. Grounded back to reality he grew aware of his wife’s screams, the painful, cruel grip about his arms and something else… Something he was an utter stranger to and yet so familiar with. Chains.

Relves heard and felt the cold clap of iron about his wrists as he glanced down to see the familiar magicka-dampening bracers about his own wrists. Eyes widening, he furiously looked about for Andayne who was already in bracers. Such was her state she was even struggling to stand, weeping uncontrollably she had no hope of walking. The Argonians appeared to have no desire to argue with her either, resorting to instead shoving her straight at her husband who was simultaneously shoved towards her.

Stumbling, Relves regained his footing quickly whereas Andayne more or less fell like mercury to the floor, her robes now soaked. Having no clue what to say, never thinking he would even have to learn to be comforting in a situation like this (additionally saying ‘it’s alright’ just seemed insulting). Bending over, he gently took hold of one of her hands, her grip tightening in response as she gaze up at him with glistening eyes.

Biting his lip, determined not to reveal just how weak and distraught he felt. Relves helped her to her feet, his other hand resting about her shoulder. Her trembling body now collapsed against him, head buried in his chest as he wrapped his arm about her, his other hand retaining its hold on hers. As if he could act as some sort of shield for her, silly as that notion was.

Pressing a kiss to her head he very nearly stumbled again as he was shoved from behind. Head snapping about with venom in his eyes that drained almost instantly on meeting the fetid breath and cruel eyes of a lizard. No words were spoken, a mere growl from its throat. But Relves understood, he had to walk. Walk or risk getting his face ripped off. Whilst that was perhaps the more favourable of the two right now, given what the Argonians may be planning for them. He could only think of his wife and her fragile state. And his son. Despite what he told himself, what he knew, a frail hope clung to him still that once more he would be able to hold his son.

Slowly they started walking (it was only now he noticed that some of the Dunmer that had accompanied him down here were now lying strewn about the floor with lightless eyes), focusing on ensuring Andayne did not take yet another tumble. Utter quiet but for her whimpers and the echoes of solemn splashes within the tunnel. Back up the ladder and through the corridors to the front doors that had been torn asunder from their hinges.

They exited into the cool night air only to be assailed by the rich copper stench of blood, the air was ripe with it. Looking down, the sight made the remaining Dunmers’ stomach turn – so much blood has been split that the Argonians were actually wading through it. Ankle or so deep, the splashes echoed through the night as the ‘lesser race’ worked in silence, dragging screaming Dunmer who had desperately hidden themselves. Whilst Relves did his best to hold his head high, doing all he could to comfort his sobbing wife.

It was far easier to comfort her than look about him, witnessing the horrors subject to his people – some corpses were being skinned for whatever sick reason these lizards had. Whilst the rest began to stand of their own accord as limp figures.

Necromancy.

It really was not surprising that such an uncivilised, uneducated race would have such foul practices. A wave of revulsion charged through him, only to crash against a cliff of furious disgust as he heard an Argonian speak.

“You see them? All those thralls?” it swept its hand about with apparent pride at the listless undead. “They will accompany us north. We are going to take back the lands you stole from The Hist long ago. But we will not stop there. Oh no. We shall go as far north as we wish. Too long have your kind grown fat on our labour, profited from it whilst we have suffered for it. Too long have we been subject to a treatment far worse than one subjects to even a second-class citizen. It is time your kind learnt humility and suffering. Protest all you will, there is nothing ‘civilised; about ordering raids on peaceful villages, tearing children from their parents and forcing them into hard labour, treating them with less respect than one of your damn guar. And yet you still have the audacity to think a sentient being property. For centuries your kind has grown in power on the backs of a race you think stupid. Well now you will learn that we are anything but stupid. And perhaps your race will learn to never again, put us in chains.”

With that, the few surviving Dunmer were nothing more than a blood-stained despairing gaggle. Heads hung low they began to follow their former slaves, long having forgone the hope of any prayers, it would appear the Gods had indeed abandoned them entirely. Incredible really, how only twenty or so years can wreak so much havoc upon one nation. To constantly tear them down, denying them any chance of recovery.

From a distance, atop a horse sat a figure clad in black with flecks of gold, watching as the dregs of House Dres left. Their lips curled slightly in a cold smile. Perfect. The invasion had begun with devastating effect. If all was to go accordingly then the Dominion would reap the rewards of a severely weakened threat and a powerful ally.

The Dunmer and the Saxhleel left behind a ravaged city some would have once called beautiful. To the Saxhleel it had been nothing short of a place of horrors and at long last was it showing through. The skinned bodies lay strewn about, blood soaking into every stone. Such was the bloodshed of thousands Tear bathed in the blood of its slaughtered citizens for days.

*****

200 years on and the stones remain dark red, collecting dust from the north as the swamps and flora of Argonia claim the city for their own. The Saxhleel avoid Tear, letting it fall to utter ruin and as such the remnants of the Great House Dres were consumed by Argonia.