#void-bound screeches

[kalims]

⊹ㅤattractive things they do | heartslabyul

parts. heartslabyul, savanaclaw, octavinelle, scarabia, pomefiore, ignihyde, diasomnia

characters. riddle, trey, cater, ace, and deuce.

content. gender neutral reader as always

note. fun fact: was scrolling thru my really, really old drafts and saw this. so I decided to just finish it cause why not. (this been rotting there for like a year and a half lmao)

I have about, 14 in my to do list haha. im doing them at random but trying to squeeze in writing at the crack of the night

perhaps he isn't aware of what he's doing exactly but riddle nods every once in a while during a conversation with you. that alone wouldn't have striken something in you if he wasn't intent on looking in your eyes every, damn, time! when you started to notice whatever habit it was it honestly got you skipping words mid sentence. eye to eye contact was something he thought was basic etiquette, hence his lack of care about it. there's something nice about his undivided attention focused, and probably soaking up whatever you had to say. if that wasn't enough him remembering every single thing you mention to him definitely did the trick..

everything, coughs. if i had to narrow it down probably the fact that trey quite literally looms over your shoulder to take a look at whatever you're doing. it doesn't matter whether you're tall, if you're sitting down that's what he's doing. if you had a penny you'd bet that he knows exactly what he's doing from the small smirk he does right after you jolt. you could smell his cologne, his skin over yours and you don't know if you want to screech into the void or throw yourself out of the window. you're as still as a statue, refusing to look up at him or else you're gonna get more down bad than you already are.

some might have contrary opinions but we all love an affectionate guy who isn't afraid to show it. caters just the type to bound up to you and attach himself like a magnet or something. it's funny cause you could be talking to your friends or something and he just bounds up behind you and encases you in a hug. sometimes when he's the one in a conversation he's pulling you over like he needs an emotional support item. literally whenever you're in reach, he's putting his arms to good use. you will not escape I guess.

for someone who claims to be a major hater to certain things considered weird in his book, affection included. ace does it a lot. he somehow always gravitates towards you, it doesn't matter if deuce is walking beside you he's gonna literally bump the guy away with his shoulder (one time into a bush.) a thing he likes to do though, is an arm over your shoulders like you're buddy buddies, which you technically are. just kinda out of character for a guy like him to pull you close so suddenly—and he's semi-aware of it.

looks away really fast when he gets flustered. it's really obvious that you got him, with whatever you've done. a cute thing deuce has done is laying face down in his desk at record speed just because you managed to make him embarrassed, in a good way! if you peeked through the gap under him you'd see his red face. if he can't hide his face from you, as in you keep tryna peek at it when he looks away he's literally just gonna use his hands to cover it. (although his likely response is to just sputter some excuse and dip.)

[mimimarvelingmarvel]

time bound part eleven

pairing: worst wolverine!logan howlett x f!mutant!reader

Part Eleven - Masterlist

summary: Y/n’s life takes a dramatic turn when the Time Variance Authority intervenes, pulling her from a critical moment in her timeline. The TVA sends her to the void where she eventually meets with Deadpool and a very familiar face. With Deadpool's universe in the balance, alongside his reluctant would-be pal, Wolverine, and the enigmatic time-bending mutant known as the Veil, the trio must complete the mission and save Deadpool’s world from an existential threat.

overall warnings: 18+, Fem!Reader, AFAB Reader, Use of Y/N, Her X-Men name is Veil, She/her pronouns, Swearing, Angst, Heavy Violence, Character Death, Deadpool (he’s his own warning), Hurt, Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn, TVA

word count: 2.7k

a/n: longest and saddest chapter x

After we unceremoniously crash-land on a guy named Pete’s KIA he was attempting to sell, the impact crumpling the hood like a tin can, the sound of screeching metal echoes through the air, drowning out the distant city noise. Pete looks delighted to see Wade, something I never thought I would see. Wade gives him a quick recap before we are on the run, following him as he takes us towards the TVA.

As we walk down the bustling street, the chaotic sounds of the city engulf us—honking cars, distant chatter, and the occasional siren blaring in the distance. The air is thick with the smell of street food, a mixture of hot dogs, pretzels, and something sweet like roasted nuts. The vibrant life around me feels surreal, almost too good to be true after months trapped in that nightmarish place, where the only sounds were the howling winds and the distant echoes of something monstrous.

I notice a man in a dishevelled suit barreling toward us, his tie askew, and his face a mask of desperation and fear. Sweat beads on his forehead and his wild eyes lock onto us with an intensity that sends a shiver down my spine. His nose is broken and I hear Wade giggle beside me, no doubt his doing.

His voice cracks as he shouts, "No, stop, piss off, you’re too late." His voice is tinged with both panic and resignation as if he knows he’s already lost but can’t help fighting against the inevitable.

Logan’s muscles tense, and his voice drops to a growl, deep and menacing like a wolf ready to pounce. His hands curl into fists, the veins in his forearms bulging. "You’re fucking done," he snarls, each word laced with venom.

I glance at the stranger, confusion and wariness gnawing at me. "Who the fuck is this?" I demand, my voice harsher than I intended. The man’s presence feels wrong, like a puzzle piece that doesn’t quite fit.

His face pales further, his voice trembling with the weight of whatever horror he’s seen. “You brought another Veil to this world? She was supposed to stay in the Void.” His eyes dart around.

"Zip it. Why was Thor crying?" Wade cuts in, his tone is light, mocking, but there’s an edge to it.

Paradox’s fear transforms into righteous indignation, his voice rising in a feeble attempt to regain control. “How dare you? No one comes back from The Void.” His hands twitch at his sides, as if he’s debating whether to fight or flee.

Wolverine’s growl deepens, the sound rumbling in his chest like a storm about to break. His eyes narrow, the cold fury in them unmistakable. "Tell that to Cassandra Nolva."

A sudden whirl of light and energy erupts behind us, the air crackling with raw power. I whip around just in time to see Pyro step through a swirling portal, his expression grim, his eyes shadowed with the burden of bad news. “Paradox, we have a problem,” he says, his voice low and urgent, as if he’s trying to contain the disaster that’s about to unfold.

Before anyone can react, Paradox’s neck snaps violently to the side with a sickening crunch, the sound echoing in the still air like a death knell. His body drops like a marionette whose strings have been cut, crumpling to the ground in a lifeless heap, his eyes staring blankly at nothing as Cassandra steps out from the portal, a cold smirk on her lips. Her eyes gleam with a malevolent intelligence, as if she’s always two steps ahead of everyone else.

Cassandra’s voice drips with malice, each word carefully enunciated as if savoring the moment. "Paradox? You tried to kill me."

Paradox’s voice shakes, a pathetic whimper escaping his lips, his once confident demeanor shattered. “I literally have no idea…” His words trail off into a pitiful whisper, his fear tangible in the air. Her hand, pale and elegant, wraps around his brain beneath the skin. “You come for the king, you better kill the king,” she says, her voice a deadly whisper that sends chills down my spine.

Deadpool grins wickedly, his teeth flashing in the dim light. "Oh, welcome to the skull-fuck club, Paradox. You know she doesn’t wash that hand." His tone is mocking.

Cassandra tilts her head, examining the man with detached curiosity, as if he’s nothing more than a specimen under a microscope. "Oh, what’s this? A Time-Ripper, you naughty boy," she murmurs, her voice a mixture of amusement and disdain.

"Oh no, we’re on it. We’re gonna head down and dismantle that thing now. We got you, boo; you just keep playing those keys." Wade flashes a playful wink.

Cassandra’s eyes narrow, a dangerous gleam in them as she steps closer, her presence suffocating. "I don’t want to destroy it. I want to use it." Her voice is laced with greed, a hunger for power that sends a jolt of fear through me.

My heart clenches in my chest as Cassandra’s gaze locks onto me, her power reaching out, invisible but suffocating. I gasp as I’m yanked off my feet, the force of her magic slamming me back into Logan’s chest. The impact is brutal, knocking the air from my lungs and sending us both crashing through a bakery window. The glass shatters around us, sharp shards slicing through the air like deadly confetti. The scent of fresh bread and sugar mingles with the coppery tang of blood, creating a nauseating cocktail that makes my head spin.

The impact knocks the wind out of me, and I struggle to breathe, my lungs burning as I gasp for air. Dust and debris swirl around us, and I manage to whisper, "Fuck," as I roll off Logan, wincing at the pain radiating through my body. My skin stings where the glass has cut me, and I can feel warm blood trickling down my arms and face.

Wade shakes off the dust, standing up with a grimace, his usual cocky swagger subdued. "You okay, Pumpkin?" he asks, his tone surprisingly gentle, concern flickering in his eyes.

I grunt, forcing myself to stand on shaky legs, every muscle screaming in protest. "Never better." My voice is hoarse, and I can feel the weight of exhaustion pressing down on me, but I push it aside. My eyes scan the chaotic scene outside, where people are running in every direction, their screams of terror echoing off the buildings. "I’m going to go stop her."

Logan tries to grab me, his fingers grazing my arm, but Wade holds him back, a rare seriousness in his eyes. "We’ve got other problems to deal with, buddy. Pumpkin’s got this, our little time ripper." He glances at me, a knowing look crossing his face, his expression almost… proud? "Oops—spoilers." He says to some unknown thing in the distance.

I shrug him off, giving Logan one last look, a silent plea in my eyes, before jogging toward the subway entrance. The stairs are steep and narrow, the fluorescent lights flickering overhead, casting everything in a sickly yellow hue. The tunnel is dark, the air heavy with the scent of metal and something more sinister, something that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. As I descend deeper, the sounds of the city fade away, replaced by the ominous hum of the machines below.

Paradox sits in a chair in the control room, his hands gripping the armrests so tightly his knuckles are white. His face is a mask of terror, his eyes wide and unblinking as he watches the screens in front of him.

"You dumb shit," I seethe, grabbing his shoulder and spinning him to face me. His eyes are wide, filled with the kind of fear that only comes when you realize you’ve truly fucked up. "What have you done?" My voice

I look up at the machines, their screens flashing erratically as Cassandra wreaks havoc on the timelines. Each beep and whirr of the machinery seems to punctuate the gravity of the situation, the digital displays a chaotic dance of numbers and warnings. “She’s going to destroy the whole existence of timelines until just the Void remains,” He says, his face pale and trembling.

“Fuck,” I mutter, my voice barely above a breath.

“You can stop her.” I look to him, hopeful. “That’s what’s so dangerous about you, but if you do that, you’ll die.” The weight of his words hits me like a physical blow. My heart pounds in my chest, and I stare into his eyes, searching for some hint of hope or another solution.

“You idiots didn’t make a failsafe?” My voice is sharp with frustration and fear.

Paradox nods, his eyes wide with terror. “But she’s the closest one to it. This is the only way.”

I shiver as the realization sinks in. The thought of my own death is a cold, hard reality that shakes me to my core. If I do this, I’m gone. But if I don’t, everyone else dies. My mind races with the enormity of the choice before me.

“Tell me what I have to do.”

Paradox, trembling, presses a small button on a console. A video screen flickers to life, displaying a grainy, distorted image of the control systems. “You have to bridge the gap between the two feeds of matter and anti-matter. It will implode the time ripper, killing Cassandra… and you.”

My breath catches in my throat, a shaky exhale escaping my lips. “If you see Logan, tell him I’m sorry.” I step away, my legs feeling heavy and leaden. “Where is it?”

He points shakily toward the lower levels. I nod, turning toward the stairs, each step feeling like a mile as I make my way to the feeder room. The weight of the impending sacrifice presses down on me, and I try to steady my shaking hands. My heart races as I think of the life I’m leaving behind, the people I’m leaving behind.

As I descend, the cool, musty air of the stairwell wraps around me, each step echoing in the silence. I can feel tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, memories flashing before me. The joyous moments, the regrets, and the lingering fear of leaving Logan behind. The thought of not having a legacy, of leaving without making a mark, terrifies me.

At the bottom of the stairs, a long hallway stretches out before me, lit by flickering lights that cast eerie shadows on the walls. I pause at the end, my gaze fixed on the door ahead. The lights behind the glass window flicker and pulse, mirroring the turmoil within me. I take a step forward, but my knee buckles, and I hit the ground, a vision of blinding white light assaulting my eyes. The intensity of it nearly overwhelms me, but it fades as quickly as it came.

I try to sit up, my body trembling with fear. I need to do this. I force myself to stand, my hand reaching for the door. Just as I’m about to push it open, a voice echoes down the hallway, stopping me in my tracks.

I hear my name cut through the tension like a blade. “Y/N!”

My heart leaps into my throat, a jolt of adrenaline making me spin around. Logan is rushing toward me, his face a storm of fear and determination. His eyes, usually so controlled, are wide with panic and desperation. Behind him, Wade follows, his usual irreverent demeanor replaced by a rare, somber resolve.

“What are you doing?” Logan's voice is a mix of terror and disbelief, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that makes my resolve waver.

“It has to be me.” I tell him, standing my ground.

Logan’s expression morphs into one of resolute defiance. “No, I won’t let you die. I’ll do it.”

Deadpool’s voice slices through the tension, his usual levity gone, replaced by an uncharacteristic seriousness. “No can do, Peanut. It’s gotta be me.”

Logan’s confusion is immediate, his brow furrowing deeply. “What?”

Deadpool’s gaze drops, his face revealing a rare moment of vulnerability. “You didn’t ask for any of this. You were right. I lied. I lied right to your face. Just to get you to help me. You did.”

Logan’s eyes dart between Deadpool and me, filled with frantic desperation. “You didn’t lie. You made an educated wish. You got a whole world to go back to.”

His gaze settles back on me, filled with a raw, unspoken plea. “I would never let you leave me in a world without you again. I got nothing without you, so give me this.”

I shake my head slowly, tears welling up in my eyes, threatening to spill over. Logan’s movement toward the door is resolute, but the sight of his anguished expression tears at my heart. I cry harder, my sobs echoing down the narrow hallway.

Deadpool steps closer, his face lined with a rare gravity. “I waited a long time for this team-up. And you know something? You’re the best Wolverine.”

The sincerity in his voice is a stark contrast to his usual banter, and it shatters my resolve. I look at Wade, my vision blurring with tears.

Logan freezes, his body paralyzed by my powers, a look of helpless frustration etched deeply into his features. Wade stands still beside me, his eyes filled with unspoken sorrow, a silent acknowledgment of the inevitability of my choice.

“Y/N? What are you doing?”

I force myself to push down my tears, my voice trembling as I answer. “I’m doing the right thing.”

I walk past them, the effort to stop me almost tangible, their emotions reaching out like a desperate plea. I reach the door, the cold metal handle biting into my hand as I pull it open, stepping inside. The door slams shut behind me with a finality that reverberates through the hallway, their desperate shouts muffled by the thick, reinforced walls.

Logan’s roar of frustration is visceral, the impact of his body slamming into the door sending a shudder through the corridor.

“Open the door!” He screams.

“I can’t, Logan. You know it has to be me. I couldn’t save them, but I can save you.” I hold a hand up to the glass.

Logan’s voice cracks, the raw emotion evident. “Why are you fucking doing this?”

“Because I love you.” I finally admit, my heart cracking at the weight of my confession.

Logan’s response is a choked, pained cry, tears streaking down his cheeks as he pounds on the door again. His anguish is palpable, each strike against the door a testament to his heartbreak.

“You fucking idiot.”

Deadpool’s voice is strained, filled with uncharacteristic desperation. “Pumpkin? Don’t do this.”

“I love you.” I tell him again.

Logan’s voice softens, a heartbreaking admission. “I love you too.”

A sad smile tugs at my lips as I hear his final words, knowing they’re the last I’ll hear from him. “That’s all I needed to hear to know I’m doing the right thing.”

I turn away from the door, my resolve solidifying as I move toward the center of the bridge. The matter and anti-matter streams twist and writhe with chaotic energy, their raw power casting erratic shadows across the room. Cassandra stands above, the time ripper in her control, her silhouette a dark, menacing figure against the flickering lights.

I reach out, gripping the matter stream first. The metal is cold and unyielding, but as my hands close around it, blue lightning crackles up my arms. The strain is immense, and I grit my teeth as I pull the stream toward the anti-matter, the effort causing my body to shake violently. The raw power surges through me like a tempest, each pulse of energy a painful reminder of the cost of my choice.

I barely graze the anti-matter before finally getting a firm grip on it. The contact sends a jolt of searing agony through my body, and I cry out, the pain almost unbearable. The lights above flicker wildly, their erratic dance mirroring the tumultuous energy converging within me. The pounding on the door fades into a distant echo, Logan and Wade’s voices reduced to frantic, muffled pleas.

As the matter and anti-matter streams converge within me, a blinding white light envelops me, consuming everything in its intensity. My vision fades to a blur of white, the world dissolving around me, until finally—black.

Next Part

A/N: angst.

taglist: @oscarissac2099 @somiaw @100percentlazybonez @obsessedwthdilfs @sun7lowxr @corvid007

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ Once More, With Feeling ♡

♡ Pairing: poly!hyunlix x gn!reader

♡ Genre: fluff/angst

♡ Summary: Unable to sleep after a major argument leads to a breakup, you return to a place that's close to your heart to find comfort and end up with something much more special.

♡ Word Count: 1.4k-ish

♡ Warnings: None.

♡ A/N: I was listening to dreamy low-fi indie music and got in my feelings so, like, come get in them with meeee.

It’s 3:23am and you can’t sleep. Two tablets of melatonin, three cups of chamomile tea, and an endless loop of soothing rain sounds have done nothing to change that. Your heart aches, it’s unbearable, and there’s not a single thing you can do about it. Rolling onto your back, you rip the covers off, only now realizing how much you’ve been sweating from the anxiety of cycling through last night’s events over and over in your head.

None of this feels real, losing Felix and Hyunjin, the ones you love the most. Maybe it was a bad idea from the start, the three of you being together. Maybe you weren’t as well equipped to keep them both happy as you thought. Every “maybe” hangs over you as if it’s written in glow-in-the-dark paint on the ceiling, taunting you from the void. Does any of it even matter now? Whatever it was that led to the eventual downfall of your relationship, the argument that ended it all, you can’t go back and fix it.

Even still, your heart longs for the possibility that you’ll be together again someday. You’ve always liked to think that when you truly love someone you’ll find each other no matter what, in this life or the next. It could be wishful thinking, the musings of a hopeless romantic. What does it hurt to wish, you figure, if that’s all you have? You take a long, deep breath in, allowing your breath to slowly flow back out as you squeeze your eyes shut. If I lay here long enough I’m bound to fall asleep. Right?

“Fuck it” you groan, popping up out of bed and throwing on your fuzzy bunny slippers. Felix thought it’d be cute if the three of you got matching pairs. You hate how right he was. You’ve been fighting tooth and nail with yourself all night not to drive down to the pier. For years it’s been the destination of endless late-night drives. It’s where you snuck away together when the rest of the world felt like it was too much. Your memories of being there, as much as they might sting, are the dearest things to you and you need to drown yourself in them now more than ever.

So, before you know it, you’re headed out the door pulling a hoodie over your head, car keys in hand, desperately seeking solace in nostalgia. It’s a long, lonely ride to the pier. The combination of empty streets and too-long traffic lights gives you the sense that the world has come to a screeching halt. Whether it has or not for everyone else, it has for you. The light flashes neon green, bringing you back down to earth just as you begin to drift away, and you’re making the right turn that takes you to your usual parking spot. 

Turning the car off, you take a moment to sit and inspect the other cars around you. There are a few on your side, a dozen more on the other, but there doesn’t seem to be anyone out here. Probably all people who live nearby. Confident that you’re alone, the wall you’ve put up comes crumbling down, tears falling down your cheek faster than you can wipe them away. Why am I doing this to myself? You shake your body in what would look to a passerby like a cute, albeit strange, dance of sorts in hopes that some of the emotions overwhelming you will fall away like leaves.

Get it together. Summoning all of the courage you have, you make your way to the stairs leading up to the pier. You almost slip on the gritty, sand-coated steps, but manage to make it to the top without breaking your neck. As you venture forward you already hear the waves crashing to shore. You feel the stars watching you, their gaze intense and overwhelming. Only it’s not their gaze at all. There’s someone at the end of the pier staring back at you, teary-eyed and stunned. That intensity, that overwhelming emotion, it’s his.

Felix? No, no, no. You turn on your heels, racing back to the car before you lose it completely. “Wait!” he yells, running after you. Felix hadn’t expected to see you here either. He’d typed a million text messages asking you to come but he’d deleted all of them, thinking you wouldn’t want to see him with everything being so fresh. He’s been wishing too, as much as you have, and he can’t let this moment slip away. Your car door’s halfway open when he reaches you, your fingers held tightly around the handle.

“Can we talk?” he asks, his hushed voice skimming your neck as he pushes the door closed. You don’t fight him. You don’t want to. The feeling of his chest against your back, the wind blowing his hair so that it tickles your cheek, makes you want to melt into him. Turning to face him, melting is the first thing you do, straight into his arms. He doesn’t hesitate to hold you tight to him, the tension soothed by the simple act of having you near him again. “I’m really sorry” you weep, “I should’ve seen that you weren’t happy.” 

Felix shushes you, his fingers stroking your neck, “Stop, don’t say that. I was happy. Me and Hyunjin…working with each other, we just get frustrated sometimes and it wasn’t supposed to come home but it did. I should be sorry” “What? No invite to the family reunion?” you hear Hyunjin ask and you’re positive that you’re hallucinating. But when you look up he’s standing there staring at the two of you with an expression you can’t quite make out. “I…no…we didn’t…” Felix stutters but Hyunjin’s already walking away, heading for the edge of the pier, ignoring you like you’re strangers.

You’re so much more than that and he knows it. Enough time hasn’t passed for him to erase what you shared from his mind. Even if he could, he wouldn't. Why else would he be here? Hyunjin shoves his hands in his pockets, stopping to make a half-turn toward you. “If I admit I’m an asshole will you come with me?” “I mean, we already know you’re an asshole so…no” Felix teases, getting a laugh out of both of you. “What if I say I’m sorry and that I’d really like to not be alone…to be with you two?” A long stretch of silence separates his question and your answer.

“Wait up,” you smile, taking Felix’s hand and dragging him along with you to catch up to Hyunjin. Meeting him at the center of the pier, you take his hand too and the three of you walk to the edge together. Any other time the minutes would fly by, all of the laughter and kisses making hours feel like minutes. But, in the presence of lingering pain, minutes feel like hours. “It’s not the same,” Hyunjin sighs, picking at his already chipped nail polish and flicking it into the sea. You want to deny it but you can’t. “No, it’s not.” Felix sits down, crossing his legs as he frustratingly tousles his hair, “So that’s it, then? We’re done?” 

You take a seat beside him on the ground, sick to your stomach at the thought, “I mean, is that what you want?” “Of course not. It’s never what I wanted. We are what I want.” You turn to Hyunjin and he’s already sitting down on the other side of you, his head resting on your shoulder. “Me too” he yawns, “But what about you? It doesn’t matter what we want if you don’t—” “I do. I always will.” Their faces brighten up, even in the midst of their exhaustion. Felix takes his jacket off, gathers it in a little bundle in your lap, and lays down. “Maybe it shouldn’t feel the same this time,” he muses, “We should make it better.”

You pet Felix’s hair, “I’d like that.” Hyunjin nuzzles up closer to you, seconds from falling asleep, “Better sounds nice.” Stroking Hyunjin’s cheek, you lean into him too, every sleep aid you tried kicking in at once. Suddenly the world feels like it’s moving again, bursting with life even in the dead of night.

You’ve always liked to think that when you truly love someone you’ll find each other no matter what, in this life or the next. How beautiful it is that it turned out to be this one after all.

[screamingatanemptyroom]

Please Fix the Story - pt 31 The Void Between - END

Last part. (Although I do plan for at least one or two side parts. One definitely from Liam's perspective. Maybe one from Adonis if I feel like it).

Guys, I started this story forever ago. Took a huge break when my life fell apart. I picked up the pieces, and never really thought I would get back to doing the things I love again. But here I am. Finishing this story. I'm so excited.

Please enjoy.

Masterpost linked here.

________________________________

“System!” I shouted into the white void, one hand still holding Liam’s tightly. “Stop hiding!”

THUD

Adonis had fallen to the ground, released from my power that had bound him. He stood up shakily, wiping a small amount of blood from the corner of his mouth. “Where did you take me?” He demanded angrily. “Where is this place?”

“This?” I looked around with a slight smile. “This place is the End.”

“The End?”

I thought for a moment. “Or perhaps the Beginning? It depends on your point of view, I suppose.” I gestured around at the blank whiteness around us “This is the void between, outside of the lower and higher realms, outside of stories. There is nothing here... nothing except memories.”

Liam stood protectively near me. “Where is the System?”

“It’s here. It’s watching. It just doesn’t want to admit that it lost. It views me as weak, pointless…”

Blue flames streaked out from out of sight towards my head. Sensing the magical attack, I dodged and waved a hand, countering it with my own power.

“YOU MUST ACCEPT YOUR FATE”  The bright blue words briefly appeared in the void, then disappeared just as fast, leaving nothing but an afterimage behind.

“BEL!” Liam had fallen when I dodged, and reached towards me, panicked.

“It’s okay. That was just a test.” With a grunt of pain, I stood back up again. “REALLY?” I spoke out again. “A sneak attack? Are you really that pathetic?” There was no answer, the System was hiding again.

“Hey!" Adonis had recovered from his shock, and resumed being a pest. “Bel! Tell me what’s going on, now!”

I didn’t even look in his direction. “No.”

“What?! What do you mean, no?!”

"I mean: 'No'." Still looking for any trace of the System, I cast a sympathetic glance towards Liam. “Poor guy.”

Liam caught on quick. “Don’t worry, Bel, I’ll help him!” He cleared his throat, turning towards the enraged hero. “’No’ is an English word used to give a negative response. In this case, the word ‘no’ would indicate a refusal to your request for more information. Similar sounding words, such as ‘know’ with a ‘k’ can sometimes be confused depending on the context clues, but that word is generally used to indicate knowledge rather than refusal. So if she had said ‘I know’ instead…”

“SHUT UP!” Adonis screamed, swinging at fist at Liam, who let him punch him in the chest without any apparent pain. Adonis instead withdrew his hand with a screech, one of his fingers clearly bent at a weird angle.

“Your chest breaks fingers?” I asked with a raised brow.

Liam pulled his collar down, showing off a coat of black scales with a grin. “Dragon skin is tough. Also known as the ‘idiot-tax’.”

During this exchange, I continued searching with my power, trying to feel the system’s presence. “Seems fair.”

“Why is it hiding?” Liam asked quietly.

“It doesn’t want to face the truth.” At my answer, Adonis stopped groaning and looked insulted.

“Why do you answer HIS questions and not MINE?”

“Because he’s my husband… and you’re annoying.” I turned to Liam. “Are you curious?”

Liam smiled at my question. “Very.”

“Then I’ll explain it to you as we go.” I looked around again, sensing that the System had hid itself. “It’s hiding within this space, and so I’ll need to force it out. Since it wants to hide the truth, I’ll show exactly that: the truth." 

My power swept around us, filling everything.

"It all started here. In this void.”

The world around us changed, showing infinite portals, each leading to a new world, glowing with various degrees of golden light.

“There are infinite stories, and therefore infinite lower realms.  Some are stable, filled with energy… some are unstable, collapsing, draining energy from the realms around it.” As I spoke, some of the weaker portals flickered and died. “Each time a world collapsed, the entirety of the lower realms was at risk, a collapse of a universe of worlds and people.”

The golden light of the portals coalesced, forming a vague being of bright blue light. “The System came into being. It's exact origin is unclear. Was it created, another product of the authors or gods beyond our existence that write the stories? Was it just a random event, too much energy organizing into a sentient being?” I stepped closer to the glowing blue figure, staring up at it. “It’s impossible to know. But I do know one thing:”

The figure peered into a portal as it flickered and disappeared. It stared at the empty space for a few moments before shrugging and moving on to the next. “The System isn’t human. It has no understanding of human emotions, motivations, or relationships. It can read the stories, it can see the unfulfilled wishes of the author, but it cannot truly understand why some stories worked and others collapsed.”

Adonis stared at the figure I showed them, a look of frustration and anger creeping across his face. Liam watched with curiosity. They both stayed silent, however, and the System stayed in hiding, so I continued the story.

“The system depends on the survival of the lower realms, but it could not figure out how to save the stories that were disappearing. So it looked for a human partner, someone who could help it figure out what to do.”

The world around us changed again, and we were standing on a college campus. It was a bright sunny day, with students milling about, chatting, laughing, carrying books. We stood in the midst of everything, unseen by the people around us, unable to touch or affect anything we could see. Adonis, recognizing the area, turned pale, trembling as he stood rooted in place. “No.” He whispered. “This is impossible. This isn’t real.”

I smiled at him, but it wasn’t a pleasant expression. “Of course it isn’t real. This is a memory of the System. No one can travel to this lower realm anymore. It’s destroyed… thanks to you.”

“NO.”

As I searched the memory around us, I could sense the memory... and the System... nearby. “Let’s go.” I grabbed Liam’s hand and ran forward, rushing through the crowds, following the lead that only I could feel. After a brief hesitation, Adonis ran after us.

“The system sensed that someone had broken free from the confines of a story.” I spoke as we moved. All around us there were college students milling about, talking laughing with carefree attitudes. “What had been stable, had become broken, and it was all because of a single individual.”

I pulled Liam to a stop in front of two people, studying both of the figures in the memory with interest.

One was a handsome young man with a playful grin and long hair pulled back with a cord. He was facing another young man, who looked extremely angry.

The other young man was Adonis.

As we looked back and forth between the Adonis in the memory and the one that had followed us through the void, the Adonis next to Liam and I stepped closer, staring at his doppelganger with a weary, contemptuous expression.

“She loves me!” The memory Adonis spoke out. “Stop getting in the way!”

“You know that isn’t right, Adler.” The young man answered with a sigh. “Just because you two grew up together, doesn’t give you ‘dibs’ on her. You two are friends. Ara is my girlfriend.”

Liam raised an eyebrow as we watched the scene around us play out. “Adler?”

“His real name.” I glanced over at Adonis, who looked away. “He changed it to Adonis after he left this lower realm.”

“He CHOSE Adonis?”

“He thought it sounded more heroic.”

“Poor guy.”

“Save your pity.” I pointed back to the memory around us, where Adonis continued to argue with the other college student. Eventually, a young woman walked up, giving a hug to the other man and eyeing Adonis warily.

“Bel…?” Liam sounded concerned and confused, and I didn’t’ blame him.

After all, the woman looked just like me.

It wasn’t exact. There was a bright cheery innocence that this girl carried around her. A naivete, as if she would  believe whatever someone told her. Nice, but gullible. She very much lacked my distrustful glares and heavy sarcasm. But the face, body, hair…. All of the outer features were the same.

“It’s not me.” I reassured Liam, who watched the girl with my appearance kiss the college student with a low disgruntled growl. “It’s Arabella. The heroine of this lower realm.”

Adonis stared intently at the woman, obsession in his eyes. “MY heroine.”

“Nope. Not yours. Because you weren’t the hero of your story, were you, Adonis?”

The argument between the three in the memory grew heated. Adonis… Adler… tried to grab Arabella’s hand, and she pulled away with a frustrated expression.

“You were the friend, the side character, the witness to the main romance of the story. But you were unwilling to play that role… to accept your fate.”

“IT WAS NOT MY FATE!” Adonis reached out, but his hand passed through the memory of Arabella. “I WAS THE HERO! I WAS THE ONE SHE WAS SUPPOSED TO LOVE!”

The Adonis in the memory had gone quiet. He reached into his coat, and pulled out a long knife, lunging forward, stabbing the young man and woman in front of him. Only when they were still on the ground, their bodies soaking in the blood pooling beneath them did he seem to recognize what he had done. He fell to his knees, screaming, as the world around his began to distort.

“You broke the story, killed the hero and heroine… and this caught the attention of the System.”

A glowing blue figure appeared in front of the blood-stained Adonis, words appearing around him.

"YOU HAVE THE POWER TO CHANGE THE STORY."

I looked down at the dead body on the ground with the same face as me, letting out a quiet sigh. “The two of them made a deal. Adonis would be pulled out of the lower realm, become a higher being. He would help the System in fixing the broken lower realms.”

The Adonis in the memory considered for a brief moment, and nodded. As he and the System disappeared, the world they had left behind began to collapse.

“There’s always a cost, though. If you take someone out of a lower realm… the realm is destroyed as a result.” My eyes met Adonis’ as he watched the memory of the deal he made with a dispassionate gaze. All the emotion that had boiled over at the sight of Arabella had faded, and there was nothing, not even remorse. “You knew you were destroying the world if you left. And you did it anyways.”

“They did nothing for me.” His voice was quiet, but vitriol in it was clear. “I should have been the hero of that world… they didn’t deserve survival.”

“Just like Arabella deserved death for not loving you?” At my question his eyes flickered, but he quickly regained calm. “She didn’t die. After all, you’re here, aren’t you?”

“I’m not Arabella, Adonis. No matter the physical resemblance.” I smiled. “I’m something much more…”

Another blast of blue flames again came towards me. I pushed back with my own power, defending myself. My magic swept through from the direction the blast had came from, trying to strike back, but it had already disappeared once again.

“Oh you didn’t like that, did you? Are you mad enough to stop hiding, or should I keep talking?”

There was only silence in response. I chuckled grimly, continuing the story.

“Adonis was the one who thought of binding the lower realms to the higher realms. By having the heroes of the lower realms be connected to Adonis, by having him control them and their endings through these ties he called fate, he thought he could influence all of the stories at once, helping them reach a happy ending.” I paused. “How funny that the man who was chosen because he broke free of his fate, chose to bind everyone else even tighter.”

The portals showed up around us again, losing their glow and flickering out at a noticeable pace. “But it didn’t work. The lower realms were failing faster than ever. You contaminated all of the heroes with a part of you, they took on a part of your personality, your obsessive desire with being the center of the universe.”

I thought of all the heroes I had met in the lower realms, how they reacted with the story around them changed. Even kinder heroes like K’lliean in the elven world had shown signs… he almost cracked and tried to force me to be with him when he sensed me pulling away. They all had pieces of Adonis forced on them, tying them to an even worse fate then the broken stories once had.

“Out of desperation, Adonis suggested a new plan. It wasn’t enough to have a prototype ‘hero’ to bind everyone to. They needed a new prototype, a second higher level being.” I hesitated, seeing the realization and pain on Liam’s face but forcing myself to continue. “They needed a villain.”

The world around us changed again, and now we were in a beautiful green world with bright open skies. The System remained hidden, so I continued talking, hoping to goad it into showing itself once again.

“Adonis had always been a fan of fairy tales. Knights, princesses, and the evil monster that kidnapped her: the dragon.”

Dragons flew overhead with roars that shook the earth below. The world was filled with the mighty creatures, flying, fighting, sleeping. Simply existing in this beautiful realm. And right next to us was a large silver dragon, patiently teaching a smaller black one.

Liam stepped closer, tears running down his face. “Grandfather.” His hand passed through the larger form, his hand tightening into a fist.

“They searched though all of the lower realms with dragons, and within one found a young black coated dragon that they felt could be molded into what they needed.”  I continued to speak, watching Liam closely. “The System tried to offer a deal, promising power and domination over all the lower realms.”

A blue figure pulled the small dragon away, obviously trying to convince it of something. The young dragon shook his head in response.

 “But the dragon said no. He loved his world, his family. He didn’t want to leave, no matter what was offered to him.”

The dragon was enveloped in blue fiery light, disappearing with an inhuman screech of terror. The world around us, similar to Adonis’ world before it, crumpled into itself, fading away into nothing.

My voice dropped to a whisper. “The price of removing someone from the lower realms is always the same, whether they want to leave or not. The young dragon’s world… his family… was destroyed.” I reached out and hugged Liam, who was wracked with silent sobs as he watched his home realm disappear.

“I’m sorry.” I tightened my arms around him, feeling a deep pain within as he slowly composed himself. I was using this story to push the System, to make it angry enough to appear. But I had another motive as well. I wanted Liam to understand everything. To see this. He had the right to know the full truth.

The truth of what I was.

The picture around us faded, showing the young black dragon now in the Villain’s realm, surrounded by forest. He looked around, obviously lost and confused.  Words appeared in the sky before him.

YOU ARE THE VILLAIN.

The dragon shook his head no.

YOU MUST ACCEPT YOUR FATE.

A portal appeared and chains shot out, binding the dragon and dragging it into a lower realm. The sight was heartrendingly familiar, and I had to take a deep breath, steadying myself to continue.

“They tried to mold the dragon into the villain they needed. The plan was to force the dragon into multiple realms, placing him as the villain of the story. If he refused to play his part? The realm would be destroyed. The dragon was too kind hearted, and eventually became resigned to sacrificing himself, story after story, realm after realm. Saving the realms but losing himself. The system tied the dragon to the villains of the lower realms, in the bonds of fate, but if anything, that made things even worse.”

The portals in the void reappeared, now most of them becoming unstable and flickering, even previously brightly glowing ones were slowly becoming dim.

“Your plans had brought this whole universe to the brink of destruction, and still Adonis refused to believe that his strategy was wrong. It’s just that the prototype story… the higher realm story… was incomplete.”

I turned towards Adonis, who was glaring at me with unbridled rage. “The knight, the dragon… and now you needed the princess. You were a hero missing your heroine. And so, you told the System to bring you your heroine.”

“Don’t…” Adonis finally spoke up again, but the word was forced out between clenched teeth.

“What? Don’t tell the truth?” I shook my head. “It’s not your secret to hide. It’s my truth to tell.”

“Stop!” He rushed forward, but my dark power wrapped around him again, holding him in place.

“Shush. I’m trying to explain my mysterious origins here.” I sat him down on the ground with my magic, and turned to Liam. I felt nervous, a desperation welling up within me. I wondered as I started to speak again if this is how he felt when I found out he was a dragon. It turned out he didn’t need to worry.

I wasn’t human either.

“Adonis would only accept one heroine.”

“Arabella.” Liam added, watching me carefully.

“Exactly. But that left the system with a problem. Arabella was dead. Even if she survived the stabbing, the entire lower realm had been destroyed by bringing Adonis out. It tried to convince him, but he grew only more desperate. He couldn’t accept the truth.”

I paused, taking a deep breath. “So the system did the only thing it could: it tried to make a new Arabella.”

“But that means…” Liam looked confused, but as realization started to dawn, I ran forward and tackled him.

“GET DOWN!”

The entire space imploded. There was nothing but blue fire, drowning everything. There was no noise, no heat. There was only magic destructive power. It lasted for what seemed like an eternity, and then slowly faded.

I lifted my head. An enormous being was wrapped around me, protecting me. Liam, who had shifted to his dragon form, continued to shield me, his dark blue eyes looking over me carefully, filled with concern, checking for injuries. I withdrew the magic I had used to protect us both, but I still saw a few burned spots in his scales here and there. Touching his scales with a regretful expression, I whispered. “Sorry.”

I had been goading the system, waiting for it to make its move, but as I told Liam the truth, my attention had shifted for a short moment. And in that moment, the System who had been biding its time, made its move.

“As long as you are safe.” Liam’s reply made me smile. We stared at each other for a few moments, both happy the other was okay.

“WHY DIDN’T YOU DESTROY HIM?!” Adonis’ voice destroyed the special moment. At least he's consistently annoying.

Liam rolled his eyes, the expression a bit strange on a dragon. “How did he survive the fire?” He asked me.

I thought it over, and winced. “My bad, my power was already wrapped around him to hold him down when the System attacked… I must have accidentally protected him.”

“It’s okay, we all make mistakes.” Liam nodded solemnly and comforted me.

“Yeah, maybe next time he’ll get burned to a crisp.”

“You know… I am a dragon… I could help us achieve that goal.”

“Tempting…” I started to respond, but Adonis started shouting again.

“System! Now’s your chance! Destroy the monster!” He pointed at Liam, his face triumphant as he commanded him. “And then we can fix Arabella, and start over with a new villain. We will make the story right, correct everything that is wrong, and retie the strings of Fate to save the universe!”

“…” There was something new that had joined us in this space between realms. A vaguely human shaped being made of blue flames. As it spoke, its voice was neither young or old, soft or deep, it was deeply disturbingly inhuman. The words it spoke appeared in front of us, scrawled across the sky, a reminder of its power.

“YOU MUST ACCEPT YOUR FATE.”

“System! Destroy it!” Adonis screamed impatiently.

“…” There was no response.

“It can’t.” I finally spoke up, calmly. “It doesn’t want to risk attacking Liam anymore. It had its only chance with that sneak attack and it failed. Facing me head on… there’s no way it can win easily.”

“I don’t understand. The System… it creates fate… it’s a god!”

“You are the one that doesn’t understand. I know what the System is, Adonis, much better than you do." I took a deep breath.

"After all… I’m a part of it.”

In the silence that followed I heard the soft sound of Liam’s sigh as understanding dawned. My heart beat nervously, but I continued to explain.

“The system couldn’t resurrect Arabella, so it split off some of its own power, a new entity that remained only with a limited connection. It used Adonis’ memories of Arabella as a template, but it could never be exact. From the moment of its creation, the created being would grow and change based on new experiences, meetings… to become something new, beyond the confines of what others wanted.”

“YOU WERE AN ERROR.” The system’s inhuman voice was cold.

“I was the only effective thing you’ve ever done to save the lower realms.” Was my even colder response.  

“No… you’re Arabella.” Adonis was stuttering, staring at me with horror.

“You always knew I wasn’t her, Adonis." I sighed. "The only thing I can thank you for was that when the system used your memories of a template, it used data, rather than your perception of her. Rather than a perfect heroine deeply in love with you, it created a young woman with a thirst for adventure and learning… and no romantic interest in you whatsoever.”

The system stepped closer, and Liam’s wings spread out widely, protectively.

“THE DEAL IS INVALID. YOU MUST ACCEPT YOUR FATE.”

“The deal is already done, System. You lost.” I waved my hand, and my power formed into the shape of a sword. It always was my preferred weapon. “If you won’t concede that I won willingly… Then I’ll make you by force.”

As I circled closer, the System stood still, confident. “YOU CANNOT KILL ME. YOU ARE ME!”

I smiled. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

My sword swung, and a limb fell to the ground, disintegrating into blue flame. I held my blade at its neck and it froze.

“I WAS you. But the deals we made changed everything.”

The world around us changed again. The System buzzed with energy, trying to fight it, but I pushed through.

It was time to finish the story.

Liam continued to stand guard, watching Adonis and the System carefully. As my power took over, the world I was showing became clear:

It was me. I was in the villain world, laying on the ground pale and sweating. I was dying.

“After I was created, I only tried to save the lower realms one by one. I refused to listen to Adonis' plans. In his frustration, he tossed me into the villain realm to force me to submit. It was his way of continuing the prototype story. The dragon keeping the princess captive. But Adonis and the System didn’t count on one thing:"

In the vision I showed, Liam in his human form knelt beside me, his expression despairing as he gently wiped the sweat from my forehead. I held his hand, my eyes focused on him and no one else. Adonis stood nearby, ignored by both of us in the memory, watching with a hateful, weary expression.

“I decided I would rather die in the villain realm, die by my husband’s side, rather than submit to the horrible fate you and the System had devised.”

The System in the memory appeared next to human Liam, pushing him aside, and approaching the dying Bel. Liam screamed with fear and rage, trying to return to his dragon form, but was frozen into place half-transformed.

“YOU CANNOT DIE.” The system’s inhuman voice was quiet, but deafening at the same time.

The memory Bel forced a smile. “Better dead and free than trapped by your chains.”

“I CANNOT LET YOU DIE. IT WOULD DESTROY ME, DESTROY EVERYTHING. BUT YOU REFUSE TO LIVE… WE ARE AT AN IMPASSE.”

“Then how about we make a wager?” The weakness in her voice couldn’t hide the determination of her words.

I looked at the System, still held in place at the point of my sword. “So, we made a deal. I would travel the realms, save them, gather the energy from each of the recovered worlds.”

In the memory, blocks of text appeared in front of the dying Bel. She read through the deal with a frown. I watched the vision, shaking my head in frustration.

“The stakes were clear. If I could save enough worlds… could build enough power, separate from the System, I would be able to break free from the ending of this prototype story. To write my own fate. But… if I failed even one… the System would take all the energy I gathered, and I would be forced to submit to the fate designed to me. To be a mindless, soulless heroine, playing her role and nothing else.”

“Foolish.” Adonis was standing, glaring at me with blood shot eyes. Liam growled in response, placing his enormous form between us, but Adonis ignored him, continuing to speak. “You just had to agree to be a heroine, and we could have saved everyone together. Instead, you risked everything, left an unstable universe to try to save it world by world.”

“I chose to remain free. To not enslave these worlds to fate.” The System sensed my distraction and tried to strike, and so I pressed my sword of magic forward, dripping flames from the cut in its shapeless neck.

“The deal was designed for me to fail.” Again the picture around us changed. It was still me, but in many different forms. A student. An assassin. An elf. World after world, flipping faster and faster until it was a visual blur.  “You chose miserable roles for me.  I had no memories, no knowledge of the story except what was provided for me. I was alone… or I was supposed to be.”

Another change. Now the System in the memory was talking with Liam. As he watched the memory, Liam beside me shook his head, as if trying to clear it.  

“Liam had nothing the system wanted but his status as a villain. If I lost, he would play the perfect villain. No shortcuts, no mercy for the weak…become a puppet for the system. But the system wanted more.”

Text appeared in front of Liam in the memory. As the nature of the deal became clear, the real Liam beside me let out a moan.

“A sacrifice.” His voice was filled with pain, barely audible. “Every lower realm I had saved in the past by playing my role. How many worlds would that be? Countless lives. Innocents.”

“The System would absorb them for energy if we lost.”

“It asked for my soul. Saving those worlds by letting myself be defeated or killed in those realms was all that I could cling to when I was despairing. If I sacrificed them… “ He paused, his dragon eyes showing despair. “It wouldn’t have to brainwash me to become a villain. I would have already taken that step myself.”

“Liam would be given the chance to follow me. His memories wiped each time. He would have no idea who I was or how to help me. He would as always be the villain in the story. A bad deal.” The Liam in the memory agreed, and disappeared. “ I glanced at Liam beside me. “But you took it anyways, desperate to help me, to stay by my side. Even though you would more likely end up a mindless, soulless slave.”

“I would never abandon you, Bel. Not if there was any chance I could help you.”

"You did." I reassured him. "I had nearly given into despair by the time you joined me. You gave me purpose, helped me forward. I would have been lost, along with everything else." I glanced over at Adonis who was shaking in rage.

“Adonis made a deal too, of course, but much different from ours. He wanted to follow, but wanted his memories, wanted to know the full story. The System only allowed him limited access, into a few worlds. It worried that if Adonis followed me everywhere I would be motivated to resist longer, as I had in the higher realms before.”

Adonis in the memory accepted a deal, and disappeared as well. There was only the system left.

“You thought I would give up, or that I would fail to fix a world. I was supposed to accept my fate. Instead, I refused. I resisted. I fixed every single world I went to. I won. Which brought us back to the higher realm.”

“NO.” The system beside me pushed back with all of its power, erasing the memory I had shown around us. I tried my best to shield Liam and I, but as I concentrated on my own dark magic, I heard someone running up behind me.

“You ruined everything!” Adonis had a knife, trying to slash at my back as he drew closer. The System kept attacking, forcing all of my attention on it. I was helpless to stop the attack from the hero.

Fortunately I wasn't alone.

A dragon tail swung out, knocking Adonis a fair distance where he fell to the ground with a crunch. He lay still, his hand grabbing at the hilt of his knife where it protruded from his side after he landed on it.

“How…?” He touched the blood spilling from the wound, shocked.

“You brought it on yourself.” Liam growled. “Also, why is your only response to rejection stabbing? You seriously need better coping mechanisms.”

I laughed, but couldn’t lose focus on the battle at hand. I turned to the system, who had stopped attacking “Now that this story is done, all bets are complete.” I waved a hand, a wave of dark power covering the void around us.

Liam’s eyes blinked, and then cleared, a sense of timelessness within them. He rubbed his head against me. “Bel. You did it.”

I smiled.  “Thanks to you.”

Adonis had changed as well. His face was pale, then red with anger, then pale again as he continued to lose blood from his side. “You cheated, System! You promised I would keep my memories! How did…”

“It wasn’t the system, Adonis.” I interrupted. “This last story, us repeating the Higher Realm… it was me. I gained power because I wanted a different ending to OUR story, and this is the ending I chose. Not one with me dying in the villain realm, with Liam and I accepting a terrible deal in a desperate attempt to save one another. A better ending.”

Adonis struggled to his feet, sneering. “So what? THIS is it? Your so-called happy ending? You become a villainess instead of a heroine and get to stay in the villain realm with that monster? Big deal.” He spat on the ground, the spit mixed with blood from the wounds on his mouth. “The System and I will find a real heroine. Not a FAKE one like you. We’ll restart the story, and fate will save us all, with the villain and villainess being destroyed!”

I laughed. A true, villainess cackle. It echoed in the vast emptiness of the Void, seeming to go on for ages.

“Why are you laughing?”

“Who told you my goal was to be the villainess?”

The System began flickering, like a candle going out.

“YOU MUST ACCEPT…”

“My goal was to be the new System.” I swung the sword in my hand, and the already fading system fell to pieces. “To destroy fate itself.”

The last of the blue flames fizzled out with a soft sound. If an inhuman machine-like existence could sigh with relief, I would have sworn that is what I heard. The System was gone.

There was only me left.

Adonis screamed at my actions. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?”

“I gained enough power in my travels to be fully independent of the System. That is why it feared me. Why it tried to destroy me in the end. But now its gone. As is your foolish fate.”

“Every realm will be destroyed! Without a prototype… without a guide… all of those worlds will be lost!”

“No Adonis.” I stepped closer to him, and he shuddered in fear at the power I wielded, moving backwards. “Those worlds will be free. Some strong, some broken and needing help. But I’d rather spend the rest of my existence helping worlds one by one then ever attempting what you and the System tried to do.”

“It’s impossible to save them all!” He hissed, his voice cracking with pain and terror.

“Doesn’t mean I won’t keep trying.” I shrugged, looking over at Liam. “I hope you don’t mind, dear. He’s not wrong when he says it’s an impossible task.”

“Traveling with you to different realms for all eternity? How horrible for me.” Liam laughed. “Now there’s fate I can get behind.”

I turned back to Adonis. “You see… he’s fine with it.”

“I’ll have to make a sling to carry future eggs if we’re always going to be traveling…” Liam muttered to himself. I ignored him, continuing to stare at the former hero.

“So what now, Bel?” He scowled. “Are you going to kill me? Torture me? Your villainous plans don’t scare me!”

“I don’t have to do any of that, Adonis… or should I say Adler?” A villain laugh sounded out again. “You have much to answer for: How many have you killed in your quest to be a ‘hero’? How many have lives have you destroyed in your desire to impose fate on the lower realms?" He shook his head, trying to deny my words, but it was too late.

"Killing you? No. I have a much better ‘fate’ in store for you:” Reaching out, my dark power curled around him, healing his wound from his side and lifting him up in the air

“You will be banished to a lower realm. To live out your days as an insignificant side character.”

His eyes widened with shock. “NO! YOU CAN’T!!!”

“By day, you will remember nothing… but every night, your memories of the higher realms will be returned to you, just enough so you can always live in regret for what you have done.”

“NO!”

I looked at the man I had once thought of as a friend.

“You always told me to accept my fate. Well now, you must accept YOUR fate, Adonis. Goodbye.” My power covered him, and he disappeared, forever.

Only Liam and I were left.

“Soo…” I looked up at the dragon. “No issues with me being a multidimensional being, whose origin comes from a homicidal fate-obsessed system?”

Liam’s serpentine face grinned, and with a brief covering of smoke he turned back into a human. “No problems here!” He reached out and hugged me. “So what now? We travel the lower realms? Save worlds?”

“Yeah, but Liam…”

“So many different weddings to plan…” He rested his chin on the top of my head. “I wonder if we can visit old worlds? I’d love to let the Blood Wolves celebrate with us.”

“I think that could be arranged… Liam…”

“Yes, Bel.” his deep blue eyes shining with joy as they met my own.

“Can you put on clothes, first?”

He looked down at his naked human form, and then back up at me, hugging me tighter. “Sorry, I don’t have extra clothes in the void.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Where did my shy and modest dragon go?”

“He remembers at least four different weddings we’ve had in different worlds.” His smile widened. “Now that we’re finally alone, no spying system, or stalking heroes… I feel like we have very important things to discuss.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Like dragon eggs?”

“Bel!” He gave me a fake shocked expression. “I was going to discuss the weather! But now that you’ve brought it up…”

I laughed again at the evil villain dragon. The villainous minion. The support spouse. My husband the dragon.

“Sure, Liam. Then when we’re ready… we’ll go travel the realms. Visit some old friends. Save some worlds.”

No more heroes.

No more villains.

No more Fate.

Just us.

________________________________

In a lower realm…

“Are you ready?” Adam, his tall form dressed up in a fancy suit, held out a hand towards me. He didn't look too different to how he had seemed in high school, his features more mature, his eyes wiser. The look of brotherly affection hadn't changed at all, however.

“Of course!” I grinned and took his hand, looking at his face. “Are you crying?”

“What? No!” He wiped his eyes quickly. “Just shocked at how much my little sister has grown up! Seems like yesterday you were a goofy highschooler chasing that bozo Jake around."

“You grew up too.”  I smiled. “When is Jessica due?”

His expression grew soft. “Just 2 more months. I told her she should take time off, but she likes running the café. Says people watching is her pleasure in life." He glanced back at me. “Speaking of which, are they going to hire a substitute to teach calculus while you’re gone?”

“They’re going to have to. I’m not spending my honeymoon teaching math, that’s for sure.”

“I can’t believe you became a teacher… and a calculus teacher of all things… I thought you hated it.”

“I’m somewhat of an expert on the topic. Plus, I feel the need to spread the… joy… of learning calculus to others.”

“I feel sorry for your students.” he shuddered. "At least you don't spray them."

“Nope, that's only for brother behavior modification.” I laughed out loud, and Adam shook his head at my signature villainess sound.

“Good thing Liam likes your craziness.”

I shrugged. “He wouldn’t have me be any other way.”

We walked forward, stepping up to the beginning of the aisle. I grabbed the white skirt of my wedding gown in one hand, holding Adam’s hand with my other, as the wedding march played.

At the front of the church, Liam, dressed in a suit and looking slightly nervous waited. As I moved towards him, our eyes met. His dark blue eyes, the same in every world, lit up with joy, despite the countless weddings we’ve had before.

Different realms. Different bodies. The same souls. The same love.

Well… not everything was the same.

Wait until he finds out about my surprise. I laughed silently. The egg sling is finally going to be of use.

I took Liam's outstretched hand, and we spoke our vows once more, surrounded by our friends and family of this realm.

Promising to stay by each other’s side.

Forever.

[firapolemos05]

@augusnippets Path of Hurt

Day 10: execution/fake execution/begging for mercy

CW: minor whumpee, mock execution, government corruption, abuse of power, imprisonment, framed for a crime, future captivity

Itzal (he/him)

Word count: 756 (a bit longer but I couldn't resist)

The Champion taglist: @emmettland , @ostensiblywhump , @scoundrelwithboba

They don't listen when he says he hasn't killed anyone. When they shove the gag into his mouth and secure the strap at the back of his neck, Itzal realizes they're not going to listen to anything he has to say.

He doesn't want to die.

It didn't make sense. There wasn't a trial. No evidence given that tied him to the supposed death of whatever unnamed Lapis guard they mentioned.

Only twenty-four hours between Itzal getting brought down to this prison and learning they were going to kill him.

‘ “Rebels don't get trials,” ’ they had said, sneering laughs lapping up the tiefling's terror.

He cursed them. Would've trashed and clawed up his cell had the shackles at his wrists not held him down. Would've tormented the guards with illusions had his magic not been suppressed. All he had were his words and he used them. Such fragile pride they had that they'd waste time and resources to silence a seventeen year old vandal who dared to insult them.

Itzal's anger spat until they gagged him.

He realizes now part of that anger had been fueled by denial. Armored guards clutch his bound arms as they drag him towards the courtyard, and dread clutches his gut.

He's going to die.

He tries so hard to fight. Bucks at the grasping hands until their grip is hard enough to bruise. Lashes out with his horns until one guard grabs one to force his head still. The blindfold around his head is wet with tears he failed not to shed.

He should’ve been more careful. Should've picked a safer, less public spot for his last graffiti run. Should've went home when his mother told him to and wait for a different day. 

His mother's face flashes into Itzal's mind. His father's. His little sister's. 

What's going to happen to them?

He won't even get to say goodbye. 

The screech of a metal door opening preceeds a waft of warmth as the sunlight hits his skin. The Crescentine sun is always harsh in the summer. The guards force Itzal to his knees in the dirt, latching the chains to a bolt in the ground so he couldn't stand. Couldn't flee. He balls his hands into fists to hide how much he's shaking. 

“Itzal Azarola,” a voice booms from behind. “For the crimes of treason, accomplice to murder of a government official, defacement of government property, government slander, and resisting arrest, you have been sentenced to death under orders from the Cerulean Constellate.”

Treason?

It doesn't seem real. It can't be real. This has to be a nightmare. He'll wake up home in his bed and be safe.

There's more noises. A rifle being loaded. His heart hammering in his chest. 

He will wake up soon. He doesn't want to die.

A click of the safety being released. A muffled sob escaping his lips.

He doesn't want to die.

“Fire!”

HE DOESN'T WANT TO DIE!

A trigger being pulled. 

A deafening blast sends him reeling, all other sound drowns under the piercing ring in his ears. His head throbs. His body collapses. He hopes it'll be quick. He hopes it'll be over before he feels it. He-

He's still alive.

The pain of a bullet tearing through his organs doesn't come. No smell of blood or burning flesh. The world still dark under a blindfold he can still feel on his face. Itzal is still alive.

More hands grab him. The chain is released from the ground and he is being carried away. His legs drag uselessly. His muscles feel like gelatin. His mind in a fog.

Why?

He should feel relief but instead there's a void. Nausea burning up his throat he has no choice but to force down because he's still gagged. 

What's happening?

Was there a mistake? Is he actually dead and his thoughts now are from his ghost trying to cling to life? Where are they taking him? He still can't see. No one's saying anything. What're they going to do to him now?

They drop him on hard stone. “Is this the one you wanted, Lady Matar?”

The blindfold is removed. There's a woman standing in front of Itzal. Short red hair and red eyes. Cloaked in the luxurious vestments of the Constellate. Lady Matar. High Martinet Scarlet Matar.

The master of judicial law stares down at the young tiefling, drinking in the tears on his face.

The way she smiles at him is the most terrifying thing he's ever seen.

“Yes. I will be taking him now.”

[botnasty]

Home, finally

Astarion X F!Reader

Words: 900 words

Warnings: Little angst, little fluff,

Note: I am getting rid of some of my draft and this was part of it.

Main Masterlist

Please DNI if you are under 18! This is an 18+ blog!

Also, please don’t steal my work, on any other platform, unless you have my authorisation

Baldur’s gate. A city the whole world considers as the jewel of the universe. Lots of communities, intellectuals, but also evil lives there. It’s that evil that also took the person you cherished the most. Your “Little Star” as you knew him but Astarion has everyone else called him. It happened all too fast. One day, everything was well, and the other he had disappeared and was found dead in an alley, his blood completely drained from his body. 

You could still remember how pale he looked. His brown eyes that used to be so full of life were not blemish, void of everything he was. His lips now blue and his golden skin now turned gray. You could barely recognize your childhood friend, your first love.

You can still remember the day he was buried. The face on his mom and dad after they lost their one and only child even before he became an adult. Not handling his death well, they had decided to move away, a decision you understood completely and also did yourself. 

Baldur’s Gate may seem like the most beautiful city.

Only for to fortunate ones

For the rest, it was survival of the fittest. You had to do two jobs just to be able to afford a small home in the lower part of the city. If Astarion would still be there, you think you both would be bound as of now, ring on your finger so that the humans would understand you were taken and maybe belly round with your very first child together.

You had both planned that since you were merely children, but it was gone the day he was found in that alley. You want to curse all the Gods for all this misery.

You wiped the tears falling down your eyes. It may have been 200 years ago, but you never had been able to move on. “I brought you your favorite. Those white roses.” You placed the flower on the head of the stone where his name was engraved. The noise of the busy city fading has you went on your knees, your dress getting dirty from the mud. “I hope you like them, they cost a lot. Why did you have to love rare bloody flowers… you prissy prick” You smiled.

You kissed your finger and ran it on his name. “I miss you to this day.”

As you went to get up, a voice, a very very recognizable voice made you stop dead in your tracks. “That’s it, you thought, I knew this day was gonna come. I finally went crazy.” You close your eyes as the voice comes closer. 

“Come Tav, I have something I want to show you.” Said the all too familiar voice. 

“I’m crazy. This is it. The Absolute got a hold of me and I’ve gone mad.” You whispered to yourself, your eyes looking up at the starry night. 

“A cemetery?” Respond this Tav in this deep voice. “How cliche of you.”

“Come, Darling. I’m not going to—” You turned around when the voice finally stopped. It was him, in flesh and bone. You covered your mouth, canceling a scream. “Sweetheart?” he said when he took a deep look at you, his eyes going up and down your frame, stopping on your own eyes.

“Astarion?” You lifted up a hand to touch him, but stopped yourself midway, as if you thought he was going to bite you. “You are not real… This is not real.” You grabbed your little sachet and started walking away, your eyes never leaving the ground. “ I just need a good night of sleep and tomorrow to just go see a healer.”

“That is all, that is all.” You kept repeating walking away. A screech escaped you, when the figure of your imagination took a hold of your hand and halted you. “How?”

“Sweetheart. You are here.” He pulled you into his arm. “You really are here. I have missed you so much.” He kissed your cheek, but you wouldn’t let yourself move. He was real. He was here. Touching you. Kissing you. How dare he.

Your eyes were watering. “How dare you! How dare  you show yourself like nothing happened!” You wanted to punch, scratch, do anything for him to feel the pain you felt during all those years, but stopped when you saw his eyes. Gone were those brown eyes full of life and, in their places were two deep red eyes. Immediately, you managed to connect the dots. 

You placed a palm on his pale cheek, on the periphery of your vision, you could see Tav leaving the scene and you were grateful. “What happened to you, my love?” Your eyes were trailing in between him. “Oh, love.” And you pulled him into a hug.

“I am so very confused by that change of character, but it is a welcome one.” he said in a mocking tone and placed his hands behind your head, pulling you flush against him, your head pressed against his torso. “A lot has happened. A whole lot, but I am here now. And I am never leaving again.”

[savage-rhi]

Duality

Chapter 2: The Entity

Summary: Sawyer Kiddo has walked a razor's edge as a hacktivist for several years, driven by the loss of her family in the Raccoon City incident. Haunted by past choices and fueled with desire for vigilante justice, Sawyer's work takes an unexpected turn when she ventures to Spain and crosses paths with Luis Serra—a man with blood on his hands long thought to be dead. Together they unravel a web of corruption and face an impending bioterror threat, fighting not only monsters but also the darker elements of their humanity. As they delve deeper into each other's pasts and the conspiracy at large, Sawyer begins to sense something unsettling about Luis—something that might be even more dangerous than their mutual enemies.

Read on AO3 Here

A terrible screech reverberated through the damp atmosphere of the mines, disrupting the entity's steady stream of collective thought. The creature felt itself being violently exorcised from the comforting hum of whispers that cradled its mind as the noise vanished into a void. Pain swiftly road in as the being fell, slim body tumbling to the ground and it's legs erratically writhed--as if attacking an invisible predator whose maw held it in a vice grip and shook it's precarious form like a ragdoll. 

A low-frequency noise shook through the cavern, sending waves of agony coursing through the entity's delicate limbs. Unlike the mild discomforts it had occasionally felt, this sensation cut deeper--tearing at the very fabric of it's being by shredding away any and all cohesion. It's instinctual urge to flee from the torment was overridden by a paralyzing agony, building into a crescendo that didn't allow for confusion to fully root itself into the creature's subconscious. Seconds felt like hours as primal screeches left its tender form. For the first time in it's life, the entity had a fleeting thought about it's predicament--wondering when and if this feeling would stop. 

Suddenly, the invisible hand that strangled the entity went dormant. As the creature came to, it recognized two sensations: the hot liquid of its own blood, and the loudness of it's own vibration. Disoriented, the entity scratched into the ground--sending out a distress call through it's body, but received no response. A cold feeling traveled through it's appendages, realizing it could no longer hear the singular voice of it's brethren.

The collective consciousness that nourished its life was gone. 

The hive had perished. 

And somehow, it was alive--but barely. 

Slowly, an instinct dawned upon the creature that it didn't have much time left to live. Not when it's body had been mangled by rocks that broke off from the roof of the mines, leaving only two legs for the entity to crawl on.  Nearby, several of it's kind lay motionless, having suffered the same fate. 

Tilting it's head up, the creature gazed at the ceiling of the cave and tilted. Though lacking eyes, it could sense the play of light against darkness in the world. A grey fog began to cloud the entity's vision as it pieced together a briefly synopsis of how it had lost it's limbs. A giant stalagmite piece that had once been the foundation of it's nest had shattered, taking with it many brethren--young and old. Quivering, the creature lowered it's gaze and took in the withered forms of it's kind forever frozen in place. The grey matter within it's vision flickered like a tiny flame, igniting the creature's need to find salvation. The desperation in its movement had no bounds as it limped then slowly began to move away from the carnage. 

The creature scurried past debris with great struggle while it sent out weak pulses through tendrils at the base of its form. Each vibration echoed into the darkness, searching for a heat signature that would indicate a potential host. As the minutes ticked by, the entity could feel its strength waning. The bleeding had grown worse, and all color in its vision became monochromatic. At the edge of a precipice, a faint aura similar to pink pierced through the thick greys of it's sight. The entity stopped moving, looking up as it's mind began to puzzle together the silhouette of a slumped human not far away. The creature summoned the last of it's strength and propelled itself toward the source with an unwavering determination. 

Upon reaching it's destination, the entity halted in its tracks. Cautiously, it approached the human's legs and poked at the persons right leg. There was no reaction. Emboldened, the creature gave a small shove, then two, then three. Nothing. The entity stepped further out from the shadows to get a gander. The heat signature coming from the human that the creature followed was no longer present--the pink aura had vanished. 

A sensation akin to despair began to grip the entity as it was faced with limited options. On a primal recognition, it knew merging with a corpse was suicidal--it's kind needed something alive to siphon energy from, not a lifeless vessel. The creature understood its body was now in the final throes of shutting down, looking for a secondary host was off the table. It was either accept it's fate, or take a chance. 

The entity's tendrils squirmed, and sent out one final pulse to gauge it's surroundings. As it slowly spun and looked around, it's attention went back to the corpse. The tiniest noise of a heartbeat shimmered through the creatures mind, and a layer of pink fizzled in and out of its sight.  The entity wasted no time as urgency flooded its senses, frantically searching for a way inside of the human. 

Attempting to pry the mouth open proved futile, lacking the strength with only two limbs at it's disposal. The creature poked and explored the human's nostrils. While they were an easy way in, the structural integrity of the hosts skeleton would come at a cost. It decided to scatter around the torso, and suddenly detected a strong metallic scent. The smell activated the creatures predatory drive as it deeply hissed--shuddering to keep impulse under control as hunger battled against the need to survive. The entity dug it's remaining two appendages into the flat grain texture surface of the humans jacket, using the material to hoist itself up the back as it followed the trail of blood. 

Coming upon the upper back, the creature stumbled upon a deep wound that traversed the spine. There was no further hesitation as the entity used its two limbs to widen the narrow cut, and began to wiggle its way into the body. As the hole widened, the muscle and flesh of the corpse was chilling to the touch. It briefly paused to settle into the sensation, catching a familiar scent that took the creature by surprise--there had once been another like itself here, a long time ago. Although curiosity came, the entity's one track mind overruled any further exploration into the thought.

Finally reaching the hardiness of bone, the creature nestled itself, finding a home base within its host. The tendrils on its back began to elongate and slither, establishing connections by coiling around the spine and gluing itself to every rope of the nervous system. Once linked fully to the brain and heart, the creature sent out microscopic electrical pulses to generate heat within the cold ligaments--mouth secreting fluids to aid in healing damaged nerves and muscle from the wound that had been inflicted upon the host. As it finished, the creature left a thin veil of a membrane covering the hole--ensuring secondary pathway for breathe.

Now came the challenge: giving a dead brain a reset. 

The pulses the entity emitted began to grow in strength, and the fingertips of the host trembled. Lifeless eyes fluttered open and shut, rolling into the back of the skull as second later the body jerked with increasing violence. The convulsions propelled human from a seated position to falling against their left side in a fetal pose. Wheezes of air emerged past cold lips, trying to draw in breath like a fish out of water to no avail. The entity could feel its existence teetering on the brink. With the last of its reserves, it directed all energy toward kicking the heart awake and darkness began to consume the corner of the creatures consciousness. A cacophony of unfamiliar sounds swirled against the entity like a blanket of mist. The entity couldn't fathom what was being said as it lost all sense of self. 

"Leone? Maybe there looking señoring for some time miss game, Sanza!" "OK. It's Dulcine? Maybe missing señor some canza!" "You know?" “Leon!” “Help…Ashle Pright?" "You'rescue lookine? Maybe lookinge, re lookinge, ressing foring someon!” “Help…Ashley.” "That hurts, re then come señoring someon!” “Help…Ashle there time here missine? Maybe time." "..Peonea! Let us ring some some some time some canza! Let us game." "OK. It's game Pancessing some." "There cho Panza!" "OK. It's game." "Then come."    "...People can change, right?"  (1)

The movements came to a grinding halt, the body motionless and still--a silent figure in the cavernous depths. 

A gentle gust of wind whispered through the mines, stirring strands of hair across the body's face. 

Grey blue eyes snapped open--vibrant gold rings encircling pupils wide with awareness. 

Lungs gasping with an unearthly heave, the creature--the plaga parasite--took its first breath as a human being. 

After hours of navigating through the mines, the plaga emerged from the mouth of a cave by way of crawling, and gazed upon the outside world for the first time in its life. A wordless awe struck its eyes, taking in colors that painted the landscape in hues it couldn't have ever imagined. As the sun dipped toward the horizon, and the plaga lay in the dirt, the entity felt paralyzed--not knowing where to begin in this new place. 

Weeks passed. 

The process of acclimating proved to be a grueling ordeal for the plaga--grappling with both intricacy and limitations of the human body. Mastering functions like walking and breathing were a chore, requiring days of trial and error--along with a few close calls of suffocation--before establishing a routine to adjust lung capacity. There were also clumsy missteps that nearly cost the creature its second life. On the eighth day, the parasite was in the thrill of learning to run in an upright position and balancing its body's weight by adjusting the hips, that it forgot how to brake. As the creature nearly slipped off the edge of cliff into a giant body of water, it was reminded of the hosts fragility--that despite the imposing size and appearance, the bodies of two-legged mammals had many weaknesses that could easily be exploited. 

Eating presented its own challenges. The parasite had to learn how to satisfy the needs of a bigger stomach that required consistent nourishment. Hunting small life forms did little to satiate the upkeep needed on the host, and the plaga yearned for something substantial. The entity resorted to scavenging by feeding upon the corpses of its brethren's hosts. Cannibalizing wasn't an unfamiliar concept and was quite natural for the species, but one day after chewing on the flesh of a leg, a peculiar thought left the plaga nauseated--the realization of the inherent wrongness in consuming something that resembled itself. Accustomed to viewing the world in absolutes, the plaga was taken back by the emergence of second guessing its choices. 

The creature stopped eating the dead, going back to hunting animals and the occasional insect. 

During its explorations through the woods, the plaga encountered a few of its brethren alive and well in their hosts. However, appearances were greatly deceiving for the entities within were far from intact. When the creature attempted to communicate through vibrational wavelengths, it was met with hostility. The other plagas attacked without a second thought. After escaping and surveying its brethren for a time, it became evident to the plaga that its siblings had been drove to insanity--leading them to easily dispatch and destroy one another, consumed by their lack of synchronicity with not only the bodies they inhabited but with the hive mind. The voice of the one known as Saddler, was long gone. 

Later, in the middle of grappling against one of its kind that took the shape of an old woman--whose rabid spewing of blood and bile painted a macabre scene--the parasite found itself fighting not only with a physical adversary, but also with an intrusion of vocals that belonged to the human tongue. The words--simple and raw--repeated in its mind. 

Hurt…hurts…

Caught off guard by the unexpected surge of human sensations, the entity barely registered the force that sent its body crashing to the ground. Feeling its sibling attempting to drag it off into the woods and finish what it started, instinct kicked in, driving the plaga to mutate its host’s teeth and fingertips--transforming them into deadly weapons to fend off the attacker with fatal bites and slashes. As the frenzied struggle subsided upon killing the intruder, the body slowly reverted to its human base, leaving the creature breathless. Thirst gnawed at it's throat, driving the plaga to sprint toward a nearby trough--senses ablaze with needing relief. 

Drink…wet…

Ignoring the grime at the surface, the parasite plunged its head into the murky water, gulping down the liquid with desperate fervor. As the cool water eased physical discomfort, a flood of words and images clouded its mind. 

“I didn’t come here to create monsters!”

“Dr. Serra, you knew exactly what you signed up for when you were brought onto this team.” 

“No, no te atrevas, joder. This wasn’t part of the deal!” (2)

“And yet you still use our resources--”

“Don’t you dare try to pull that false equivalency shit--!”

“Our test subjects--which we painstakingly procured mind you--for your experiments without a second thought! I seem to also recall your recent signature approving for three more Jane Does so you can fulfill your curiosity about a certain bug near and dear to your heart.” 

“....Those Jane Does signed the consent forms because they are already one foot in the grave with nothing to lose! I’m not forcing anyone to participate in my work! If there’s even a small chance my research can save them I--!”

“You know the outcome of what will happen to them, regardless of good intentions.” 

“....”

“Don't pretend to be a man of moral high ground, Dr. Serra, when your hands are stained with blood while in the pursuits of pushing the biological envelope. We as a team are all in this together, for the betterment of--”

“Humanity…something that I think we’ve forgotten, being cooped up in this damned lab!” 

“....”

“....”

“Team 6 is close to completing the project ahead of schedule, all because of your tinkering with the Nemesis organism.” 

“And hypothetically, what if I were to step down?” 

“This is not a game…You will fulfill your end of the bargain, Luis. If you care to receive the funds for your eradication project to help that little shit hole of a village you crawled out of.”

“I see we’re resorting to cheap shots now, eh?”

“You’re quite fortunate Umbrella hasn’t discovered your secret. But know this, Dr. Serra, its not a matter of if but when the plagas are found. If not the company, someone else will come along and exploit what you hold dear.” 

“Why don’t you let me worry about that, hm? I’m sure you have other fascinating engagements to stress about, not the “shit hole of a village” I crawled out of.” 

“Your sarcasm will be the death of you one day.” 

“Es mejor que lo que el destino te tenga reservado, chief.”  (3)

“....I want results, Luis. Get to work.” 

Pulling its out from the trough, the entity frantically gasped--heart thudding deeply against its ribcage as the present came back online. In between a fit of coughs, the creature looked around the woods with paranoia in its eyes, fearful that if it closed them, it would see "the other place"--the strange room with a long hallway. The bright lights above comparable to the rays of the sun without the warmth. The aggressive female. How he felt so small when speaking to her. How he both understood and didn't understand a single damn vocalization that left the lips of humans. 

Furrowing his brows, the plaga pushed away the thoughts. Now wasn't the time to be consumed by precarious sensation, not when he was being hunted. He needed to gather his bearings, and leave the area. 

Slouched against the trough, he adjusted onto his knees and cupped his hands together to scoop out more water. As the cold liquid settled against his fingertips, he couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the ripples. A look of awe spread across his face, captivated by the gentle undulations that spread outwards like hushed whispers. His mouth began to form into a smile, the nerves in his lips twitching from having not performed such a reaction before. The feeling irritated him, but he couldn’t help himself. Neurons fired off in his brain.

He liked this very much. 

Something unsettling caught the corner of his eyes as the ripples began to displace. There was an eye, looking right at him. He gasped and tumbled backward. The heavy beat of his heart ached. Sweat pooled around the base of his neck, small hairs standing at attention. A chilling thought of something grotesque emerging from the water raced through his head. He had been fearful before. Every creature had a healthy amount of that--even plaga--but he had never been spooked. Well, his mind had never tricked him into being spooked. 

His mind. 

He swallowed at the concept. 

When nothing burst from the trough, he cautiously crawled over. Quivering, he dared himself to look upon the waters surface and was met with a face. Like before he scurried back, and like before, nothing came of it. He didn’t know what this thing was, but he was getting fed up with its antics. 

With an angry brow, he once again approached the trough and looked down. This time, staying still. Peering through the murky surface the water rippled gently under the weight of his reflection as he leaned in closer. His gaze lingering on a pair of blue orbs that seemed to hold a world of emotions within them.

As he blinked, he realized who he had been looking at this whole time.

Little things began to pop out to him as he continued to stare. How his dark hair was tousled and unkempt, some strands stained with blood and debris. How the sharp features of his jawline were peppered with facial hair. The little bump where his nose was curved. The small faded vertical scar just barely under his left eye. With cautious touch, his right hand reached for his face, and he began to run his fingertips against the dull patch of pink--the texture a smidge thicker than the rest of his skin. His blackened veins that slithered under his flesh pulsed in tandem with a deep thunder that rolled through his body. His hand retreated from his cheek and he pressed a palm to his chest. 

He…art…

There was no concept of attachment in his species--not for each other, and especially not for the animals whose bodies they'd use to fulfill their natural order. He had seen himself as a separate soul from the body he inhabited, and yet here he was experiencing self-consciousness for the first time. 

His fingertips clenched around the dirty fabric of his shirt, applying a small amount of pressure against his skin, right where his heart would be. 

Mi..mine…?

Months passed. 

Strange conversations from "the other place" began to emerge. The episodes at first quick and sporadic, happening in moments of pause, a hunt, or battling what remained of his brethren. Off putting at first, he grew fascinated toward the concept of words and what attachments the sounds had to things in the world. After the last of his siblings had been disposed of, did he find the courage to explore human settlements. He spent a week just admiring the architecture alone on each and every house, making connections to how intricate the dwellings were to how his nest once was, and played with the concept of imagination--visualizing how humans might’ve carried themselves in places like this. 

In that time, he became more adept at hunting. No longer succumbing to frenzy when hunger struck, he behaved like a shadow. Carefully charting his course and building up tension before making his strike. Regardless of the progress made, the aftermath remained messy. Once he tasted blood, he couldn't combat his predatory drive to consume. Being in the body of a human somewhat amplified the impulse. The only thing that separated man from bug was the need to be cautious--to plan carefully, before diving in. 

Bu…bug…

That word...it bothered him a great deal, and he didn’t understand why. 

“Give us a push, Sancho!” 

“Luis, no te vayas muy lejos. No quiero que te hagas daño, hijo.” (4)

“¿Otra vez Don Quixote? No es que quiera reprimir tu diversión, nieto mío, pero tal vez deberías leer algo sobre la fauna local del pueblo. Llegará un momento en que tendrás que cazar tú solo.” (5)

“Medicine that will help you suppress the progress of your…problem.” 

“I’ll make it cheap for you!” 

“Mi papá dice que a tu abuelo no le queda mucho tiempo en este mundo.” (6)

“Todos dicen eso…”

“Luis?” 

“¡Tiene que haber otro pueblo, otro lugar que pueda ayudar a mi abuelo!”

“¡Está prohibido!”

“¡No me importa! Si tienen medicinas... medicinas de cualquier tipo que puedan ayudar, ¡no puedo quedarme aquí sin hacer nada!”

“Luis, tu abuelo está en batalla con un demonio. ¡La medicina que buscas no puede curar eso!”

“¡El abuelo no está luchando contra un demonio, idiota! ¡Sólo está muy enfermo! ¡¿Cómo puedes seguir creyendo en supersticiones incluso después de descubrir que hay un mundo más grande fuera de este lugar?!”

“¡Porque tengo fe, Luis! Es verdad, no soy tan listo como tú, diablos, ninguno de nosotros los niños lo somos, ¡pero este es nuestro mundo! ¡Tenemos que respetar que las cosas son como son!”

“Bueno, este no es el mundo en el que elegí nacer, ¡y al diablo con cómo son las cosas!”

“¿A dónde vas?”

“¡Voy a encontrar al padre Méndez y le convenceré para que me deje salir a buscar un médico!”

“Gah!” He slammed down a letter he had been teaching himself to read, almost breaking a table in the process. While image after image flooded his brain, his fingertips duck into the back of his scalp. The full sentences devolved into tiny murmurs, as if they were being squeaked by a horde of rats. 

Catching his breath, he gulped. A small growl left his throat at seeing the damages he caused. It was such a trivial thing--something that shouldn't have gotten under his skin, but he was irritated by his own actions. 

"The other place" was becoming problematic, disrupting his general contentment everyday now. He couldn't understand how humans didn't lose their heads over having an uncapped barrel of consciousness flowing in like wine. The content was strong for a creature such as himself who was used to not having thoughts of his own--being one with a singular collective. 

Speaking of humans, he grew more curious about his host. There wasn't anything left in the corpse when he took over, an individual mind that is. The heart may have been pumping its last rounds, he sensed it himself, but the person who once had domain had been long gone. That didn't stop him from imagining what his host was like as a person. He learned how to read various scribbles left behind on parchment, if only to help him understand the consciousness that once dwelled in this body. That and to understand what this...Don Quixote was. It annoyed him a great deal, but the word seemed to have value to his host--enough to warrant further investigation. 

Though the euphoria of the collective dwindled with time, he remembered the faint voices of his brethren through the hive network--and how there was an imprint of humanity that managed to pierce the veil before disappearing. He recalled exploring the collective in his nest a long time ago, wondering what it was like to share a body with another living thing. Thousands of voices told him how it took great effort to ignore the extra sound, and how they slowly encroached upon the consciousness until it went elsewhere.  He wondered if that elsewhere was "the other place" he kept visiting. He found himself with more questions than answers the longer he dwelled upon it. 

Two Legs--what he referred to himself as-- one day found a copy of Don Quixote in the village library. He couldn't put it down after the first page. 

For a moment in time, he felt another presence enjoying the moment with him. A little vibration beating in tandem with his heart. 

Lu…is…

More time passed. 

Two Legs stood in front of an old house that had seen better days. The stain of the wooden panels had faded into a grey suitable for a tombstone, the last of the windows cracked. It was a hollow shell of a building, a body that had no heart to keep its fire alive. The front door, weather-beaten stood slightly ajar--held in place by rusted hinges that had lost their sheen. 

Clenching his jaw, Two Legs reached out and grasped the doorknob. It was rusty and cold under his fingers, sending a tickle up his spine. He gave the door a tentative push, but it resisted, groaning in protest as if reluctant to allow entry. Gritting his teeth, he used his left shoulder to apply more force. The door creaked loudly, its hinges screaming as dust and debris shook loose from the frame--cascading down into tiny clouds that caught the last rays of sunlight streaming through the broken windows. With a final heave, the door swung open with a long and mournful wail. Two Legs stumbled forward, catching himself against the doorframe. He coughed as dust particles itched the inside of his nostrils and sneezed twice. 

The house was silent and the air was heavy with a smell that resembled mold and petrichor. He stepped over the threshold, shoes crunching a layer of debris scattered across the floor. Eerie shadows danced along the walls as the dim light from outside barely penetrated the gloom. He blinked and a thin translucent membrane emerged near his caruncles, shielding his eyes as it cast a greenish glow over the blues of his irises that glowed in the dark. He slowly turned his head, observing how the interior was an unsettling still frame of a life once lived. Dust-covered furniture sat askew, cobwebs draped like tattered curtains across the corners of the room. The wallpaper nearby peeled in long, curling strips--revealing bare rotting wood beneath. 

Two Legs made a fist--scared of how familiar the scents and textures were to him despite having never set foot in this place until now. The last house in the village he hadn't visited. A part of himself wanted to turn and leave, no longer wanting to satisfy the curiosity he had grown attached to having after reading enough books that outnumbered the hundreds of siblings he once shared a nest with. Nevertheless, his visions from "the other place" wouldn't let him be satisfied. He needed to know Luis--this name that the people from the other side called him, and he knew this house held the answers. 

The floorboards creaked ominously under his weight. Every sound amplified in the silence. Each scratch and groan echoed through empty rooms and corridors. Two Legs moved methodically, his senses on high alert for any sign of danger. He couldn't shake the feeling of being watched despite knowing all too well he was the last of his kind here.

The last one...

He pushed the thought away. 

The stillness felt like it was closing in around him, pressing down on his shoulders as he made his way down a hall and came upon a rustic room. It was more well-kept in comparison to the rest of the house. Upon entering, his eyes were immediately drawn to a tattered table near the center. Scattered across the surface were remnants of someone's once-vibrant curiosity: an old microscope, several dusty test tubes, and a collection of brown bottles with faded labels. Nearby an ancient fireplace stood--the insides pitch black from years of use. On top of the mantle were a couple picture frames haphazardly placed next to an instrument that seemed out of place in the somber setting. 

Two Legs ventured over to the little stringed instrument given how it stood out like a sore thumb. Unsure of what to make of it, he plucked one of the strings and a piercing sound reverberated against his ears. The vibration rocked his body and startled him. He almost fell backward, bumping into the table. A picture frame clattered to the floor. 

Muttering a curse under his breath, he crouched down and picked up the fallen frame. The glass was cracked, but the black-and-white photograph inside was still visible. He winced as a a shard nicked the tip of his finger, blood gently pooling down as he flipped the picture and glanced over it. The image depicted an older gentleman, standing beside a young boy. The child had his hair slicked back--his forehead exposed--and was dressed in formal attire with a big bow obscuring his neck. As Two Legs examined the photo, a flicker of recognition sparked within him. His heart raced as he studied the older man, trying to connect the dots. 

Two Legs felt his mind melting into "the other place" as the decrepit house was suddenly consumed by thousands of black dots that clouded his eyes. He suddenly felt the sun. How it hung low in the sky, casting a warm hue over the edge of the village. . 

Luis sat on the front porch steps beside his Abuelo, watching as the older man cleaned his shotgun. He noted how his weathered face was softened by a gentle smile as he blew off mud from the stock. 

“She had a heart as big as this village,” Abuelo said. His eyes looked as if he had been taken back in time. “I know you’ve been having problems with your peers lately, but your mother--she’d be so proud of you, Luis. Proud of how smart you’ve become.”  

“Even though I’m the reason she left us so soon?” Luis murmured sadly. 

“Boy, don’t speak ill like that.” Abuelo forewarned. He cleared his throat upon realizing he startled his grandson and breathed through his nose. Furrowing his brows, he continued. “It wasn’t your fault, Luis. It never was. The people who say otherwise be damned. Its as I said, her heart was as big as this village. One day, it just became too large for her body. I thank God though that she left a piece of herself behind. So I can keep seeing her eyes looking back at me.” 

Luis couldn’t bring himself to contradict the old man. He had been told time and time again in the village that he resembled his father, from his skin tone, his facial structure, even the sound of his voice. He tried to suppress a smile that crept up on his lips, feeling a bit of pride swell in his heart at learning he had gained something physical from his mother.  Once more though, the shine in his eyes dwindled. 

“You never told me about papa, what happened to him.” Luis murmured, almost bitterly. 

Abuelo let out a deep breath as he put down the gun at the small table in front of him and began using a cloth to wipe his hands. “Sometimes when adults let fear get to them, they lose faith. When that happens, they end up creating a demon that gives chase. It makes them forget what matters, so they go off looking for it in a blind fit--not realizing back home they had everything." 

“Demons…You know I don’t believe in the texts anymore, right? I haven’t for a long time now.” 

“I’m well aware,” Abuelo nodded. There was a look of defeat in his eyes before he continued. “I am not smart like you, nino. I teach from where I understand. I teach from here,” he pointed at his heart, watching Luis. He carefully got up from his seat, picking up the gun with his right hand as he approached his grandson and placed an arm on his shoulder. “Remember, no matter how big your mind grows, you should let the heart speak first to people. Even if it hurts. Do you understand?” 

Luis nodded, absorbing every word. He loved these moments with Abuelo. In a way, he could place himself in his mothers shoes when she was a child, looking up to her father for wisdom and strength. Moments like this connected him to her, despite her presence no longer being of this earth. 

Later that day, they set out for a hunting trip. Luis--eager to prove himself--ran ahead into the dense forest. The thrill of adventure coursed through him as he weaved between trees, the world around him a blur of greens and browns. The moment he spotted deer tracks, his eyes lit up as he spun around to holler back to his abuelo, but soon realized he was alone. The forest felt different now--darker, more intimidating. He heard a rustling behind him to the left, and turned to see a wolf ten feet away, it’s eyes locked onto him.

Luis’s breath hitched in his throat as he stared into the creatures orbs. It wasn’t that beautiful golden hue he had seen in books. No, these eyes were clouded in madness, darting erratically in their sockets. Foam bubbled from its snarling jaws, flecking its muzzle and dripping onto the ground. The animal's breath came in harsh, ragged pants, each exhale accompanied by a guttural growl that drove all other noise in the woods away. 

The wolf's ears lay flat against its skull, and its tail lashed out in agitation. As it prowled closer, its lips curled back to reveal jagged, yellowed teeth. It didn’t take Luis long to realize there was something incredibly off about this animal, and as his little heart pounded deeply against his chest, he suddenly remembered all the verses from the holy books he had been forced to read since he could walk. 

Luis blinked, and the wolf charged. 

Suddenly, strong arms grabbed him, tossing him aside just as the wolf coiled its body into a spring and lunged. Luis hit the ground hard, his cheek scraping against a sharp rock. He watched in a daze as his Abuelo aimed and fired--the shot echoing through the trees. With an agonizing yelp, the wolf fell lifeless. 

Abuelo approached cautiously, bending down to check the animal. As he did, the creature lunged with a final burst of energy, sinking its teeth into his arm. With a scream and grimace, Abuelo pulled out a knife and quickly ended the wolf’s suffering for good.

Luis shook hard, clutching his bleeding cheek as tears welled up in his eyes. The sight of his grandpa’s wound, how warm his blood felt against his fingers, the violence—it was too much. He barely noticed how his Abuelo limped over to him. 

“It’s okay, Luis,” he said softly, pulling the boy into a comforting embrace. “We’re safe now. I’ve got you, boy. I got you.”

In between sobs and holding onto his Abuelo for dear life, Luis turned his head and gazed at the wolf's corpse Through the gaping hole where bullet met flesh, he saw at first what he thought was a snake slinking out from the wound, jittering about. His eyes widened, and Luis was petrified as the "snake" stretched out toward them and finally fell limp against the carcass.

“Abuelo…” Two Legs grip tightened around the photograph. He could almost feel the older mans arms around him, hear his soothing voice. The scar on his left cheek seemed to throb anew from the memory. 

“Gr..Grandpa.” 

As the present began to emerge back into reality, his mind whirled in a storm of confusion. The old man, he was Luis’s grandfather--yet the memories were vivid as if he had experienced the wolf attack himself. Brief images of fire came to him, and he breathed heavily; remembering a time long ago when the very house he stood in was engulfed by flames. 

Two Legs thought back to the moment he discovered the word “bug”, recalling the strange discomfort it evoked. Slowly, as his mind replayed the tendril emerging from the wolf, he made the connection: the term “bug” referred not only to the insects he had seen under rocks and in dirt, but also to creatures like himself--the plaga--with their many legs and segmented bodies. Realizing this, he understood why the word made him feel nauseous. Humans used it derogatorily, reducing its kind to mere pests--monsters. Just like the thing that slithered from the wolf. The thing that led to this house being set aflame, when Abuelo became sick. 

Luis himself saw plaga as beasts--unsettling creatures he harbored an intense fascination for if only to understand why his grandfather had to die. 

The intensity of this revelation compounded Two Legs emotional turmoil. He was grappling with feelings and concepts that were entirely new, caught between his own identity and the remnants of the human he inhabited. 

“Many legs,” He whimpered to himself with quaking breath. “I have…Two. Two Legs. I am Two Legs. Not Luis, I’m Two…I’m Two…”

In a desperate attempt to ground himself, he focused on his breathing, trying to calm the rapid pounding of his borrowed heart. The rational part of himself knew that these were Luis’s memories, Luis’s emotions, but another--the part now intricately entwined with the human’s body and mind, couldn’t help but share in the profound sense of loss and love for a grandfather he never knew. He was drowning in Luis's grief. The sensation of losing someone who had been a cornerstone in his life was too much to bear. 

Two Legs tried to think back to the collective consciousness of the hive out of desperation. The memories were distant--faded even. Like a dream slipping away upon waking. He only recalled a vague sense of unity--the encompassing feeling of belonging to something higher than himself. How good it felt. A painful epiphany dawned on him. His own individual mind was emerging, and the memories left over from his host, Luis, were encroaching--blending together and erasing memories from the hive. 

Two Legs had never screamed before. 

As the existential crisis took hold, he began to make noises--soft and guttural, then louder and more desperate. The sheer intensity of his emotions, the confusion, the grief, the loss of identity, built up inside him until it exploded. He screamed louder and louder, the sound echoing through the abandoned house. His body violently shook, and in his anguish, he broke the table nearby--falling to his knees.

Tears streamed down Two Legs face while he clutched the picture to his chest. The photograph trembled in his hands as he stared at the faces. Abuelo--so familiar and yet so alien--seemed to stare back with a mix of sternness and warmth. The young boy with his slick hair and large forehead, dressed in school attire with a big bow hiding his neck, was undeniably Luis.

And now, he was Luis too. 

A part of him was. 

In that moment, he was neither fully parasite nor fully human, but something in between.

He sobbed as his body curled into a fetal position, and screamed again until his throat burned. 

“Una limonado to go.” 

“Gracias,” Two Legs took the cup from the man across the counter and turned around. His eyes scanned for a spot to sit down in the cafe, and he eventually settled on a small corner table near one of the windows. 

For the past few years, he had been living as Luis--constantly balancing his parasitic instincts with the need to blend in with humans. At first there was a deep learning curve, to where he experienced embarrassment many times. A memory of being chased out of a public river bank naked while catching fish briefly insulted him. He felt his cheeks flush. Even a year later, he didn’t quite understand why humans were so offended by their own bodies, but it didn’t take long to recognize it had everything to do genitalia. That was still something he was getting used to, how different things were in that department. 

Taking his mind off the incident, Two Legs eyed the lemonade he purchased; noting how the color looked like piss. This was something Luis enjoyed during the warmer months, something he hadn’t tried yet. The struggle with his identity remained a daily battle, but the small differences between himself and Luis helped Two Legs stay grounded. He loved Nutella. In fact he was certain he could eat several jars in one sitting and wouldn’t so much as get a stomach ache. That was a treat Luis had always found too sweet. He also enjoyed writing, a hobby Luis admired but never pursued despite his love for literature and neat penmanship. Little variations like these kept his mind from melting away at the seams.

Two Legs carefully picked up the cup and brought it to his lips, taking a small sip. The bitterness hit him like a car going too fast over a speedbump. He nearly spat it out until reminding himself that there were people present, and reluctantly he swallowed while pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth to encourage saliva to wash down the rest. He shuddered as his brows furrowed. Not even the aftertaste of the sugar could get rid of sour texture and how pungent it was. 

“Mierda..” He cursed under his breath. “Good waste of euros, eh?” 

Although disappointed in the experience, Two Legs took to heart that this was another thing that separated him from Luis. Clear as day now, he had proof that Luis was more of a savory guy versus the parasite having more of a sweet tooth. Nevertheless, Two Legs understood why Luis appreciated such flavors. It was strange to both love and despise a preference, but such was the nature of this weird mesh between two entities. 

Letting out a breath, Two Legs looked out the window--mostly people watching, while he thought back to the village; wondering what had become of the place. Around the time he left, outsiders began to drift in. He stuck to hiding, not wanting to show himself to the world but that became problematic when said humans stumbled upon plaga spores and thus became a new generation of infected. He already felt isolated from what remained of his original hive, but with this younger brood, he was more alienated given his disposition. The rare times he tried to approach, they didn’t sense his frequency at all. 

There was also the looming threat of powerful people investigating the area. Two Legs remembered seeing officials with a logo that said Tricell on it through a thicket of trees, and how it made him wary for good reason. The knowledge that Luis possessed--what he now possessed--was too dangerous to give away to such creatures.

Aside from Umbrella, this was an organization that wanted Luis’s intelligence at the hem of their operations while he was in college. Despite the company leading him to his fate, Two Legs felt in his gut Luis was right to choose Umbrella in the end, given how Tricell would’ve kept him chained in more ways than one. Luis’s ambition was like that of a wild horse, something that couldn’t be broken. Not when he was determined to achieve his ends. Tricell never would’ve given him an inch, especially regarding his private research into Las Plagas--which he tried and failed to hide from the world at large. The memory of Luis and the chief from Team 6 crossed his mind. Two Legs blinked and pushed it aside. Thinking about his own goals, there had to be other parasitic beings such as himself out there in the world. Finding another hive he could join would be heaven on earth--for he could become a part of a collective to where he'd lose his individual consciousness. 

Being human, with it’s multifaceted emotions, was overwhelming. Two Legs was self aware to understand an entity like himself had no business nor entitlement to this sort of life--as much as a part of him had been enjoying one of natures most bizarre experiments: a parasite living like a man. He knew Luis well enough to know even he would find a twisted humor to the whole damn thing. 

He noticed his black veins popping up on his right arm. Letting out a small gasp, Two Legs looked around to make sure no one was gazing, and made a quiet exit with the lemonade in hand which he promptly tossed into a nearby garbage can. 

As Two Legs stepped out into the world, a familiar sensation buzzed within him. His parasitic tendencies stirring temptation as he glanced at the people passing him by. Over time he had grown fond of human cuisine, savoring the complex flavors and textures they enjoyed. This new appreciation had gradually shifted his dietary habits. However, the urge to stalk and chase could not be entirely ignored. On the occasion, he would succumb to his needs and would hunt humans to satisfy his predatory drive. He was very strategic about the ordeal--selecting prey carefully to avoid detection. While Two Legs didn't feel guilt, he was curious to see how long he could withstand against his impulses. It was now day 36, and he had a sinking feeling he had reached the threshold. 

“I shouldn’t have tried the lemonade. It cursed me, damn it.” He whispered to himself with a laugh, shaking his head in defeat as he looked down at his right palm. His fingers twitched again, and more of his parasitic trait began to show through. 

Later that evening, as Two Legs attempted to settle down in a private room, his urges boiled over. The motel’s thin walls couldn’t muffle the sounds of life; and he could hear the breaths of the guests in the adjacent rooms, each one amplifying his hunger. While he salivated, he began to hear the heartbeat of every living creature in the vicinity. The pulse of their blood a symphony calling his name. His stomach churned in a twisted knot, a burning need clawing at his insides. Knowing he wouldn't last much longer, Two Legs slipped into the night--prowling the dark streets to sniff out his prey. Mind drugged on pure drive, Two Legs knew the first person he set his sights on, he'd kill them. All rational thought was as good as dead.

Two Legs could feel frustration boiling in his blood hours later. All he could see was red, and there was not a damn soul in sight. He was about to take his anger out on a nearby crate until a scent slithered up his nostrils. At first it was musky, then it descended into a sweet texture. It reminded him of vanilla, and something floral with a smokey undertone. The potency was enough to where he had to stop walking just to take it in. 

Two Legs felt goosebumps travel up his arms--having not smelled a combination like this before. It nearly took his breath away. Before he could savor it any further, a surge of adrenaline kicked him hard and he ran toward the source. 

Coming upon a bridge, his senses zeroed in on a figure nearby. Someone walking alone. The steady thump of their heart drew him in like a fish to bait. He waited for his moment--for a single frame in time in which his prey would turn their back. He had it down to a science, where relying on stealth alone was no longer necessary. He could clap out the seconds in tandem with the thumping noise of his preys heart in his ears. 

One foot went in front of the other, and the person turned on cue. Without hesitation, Two Legs emerged, a blur of motion in the darkness as he made his strike. The person however was not as defenseless as they seemed. He noted how fierce they were, landing a few hits that nearly busted his nose. The pain only fueled his hunger and need to subdue. He quickly compromised them by pinning the person to the ground.

Feeling his brain drugged on the high of taking down someone that actually challenged him, Two Legs let out an animalistic growl near their ear; letting them know without words that he won in the end. His mouth fell open and he began to mutate his host, revealing long lateral incisors, medium sharp canines, and short yet pointed bicuspids. Just as he was about to sink his teeth into the human, they let out a whimper. The sound pierced through his drunken haze.

He remembered the searing agony when he lost his legs as a parasite.

He heard Luis’s voice and that of another. 

“You know this means we’re almost-” 

“Almost what?” 

Two Legs watched through Luis’s point of view as hot pain shot through his back, lighting up every single nerve. He let out a whine--warmth filled the back of his throat, and he gagged as blood emerged past his lips.  His entire body froze as if a shark breached the surface and sunk its teeth into his flesh, and now it carried him down into the depths as he fell forward. Each shallow breath was a tortuous effort as his lungs filled with blood, choking him down as his mind faded in and out of time. 

The screams of squirrels and other animals Two Legs considered lesser prey items rocked the back of his subconscious, recalling when he hadn’t killed them swiftly enough, leaving them to squirm against his teeth as he carelessly mashed. 

Sufrir...to suffer…

The memories coalesced into a profound understanding. One that was visceral, and hit him in the core. It bothered him how it took so long to realize what he had put so many through--that not even Luis’s own sins against others he had experienced could’ve revealed this to him. 

Luis himself would’ve suffered to see his body be used to kill like this. 

The frenzied look in Two Legs eyes softened as he examined his quarry, realizing it was a female. With shaking fingers, he found himself gently touching her hair, trying to comfort in the only way he knew---drawing on Luis’s memories of using touch to convey an apology. The action was instinctive, a blend of his own burgeoning empathy and Luis’s influence. Even as he knew this, it puzzled him.

Suddenly, she kicked him in the abdomen, catching him off guard and scrambled to her feet. Too stunned to give chase, Two Legs watched her disappear into the night. The predatory drive that had been so overpowering moments ago was now gone, replaced by a hollow feeling.

He sat back, breathing heavily--having lost his appetite. 

“Joder…” He grimaced, and slowly rose to his feet and dusted off his pants.

Two Legs eyes fixated on the woman's silhouette in the distance, and he took a step forward, only to feel a weight against the side of his skull. He fell forward, thudding hard against the ground. His world growing black as he heard a series of voices whisper in and out of time. 

"Are you sure that's him?" 

"Si, positivo."

"Hopefully he's in one piece by the time we reach Soldado. Remember, alive and well." 

What the fuck...?

It was the last thing Two Legs thought before he succumbed to the dark. 

Notes: 1. I used a gibberish generator to translate the following into the incoherent words Two Legs hears: "That hurts, you know?" "You're here looking for someone? Maybe some missing señorita?" "OK. It's game time." "Then come, Sancho Panza! Let us rescue the Princess Dulcinea!" “Leon!” “Help…Ashley.” "...People can change, right?" 2. No, no te atrevas, joder No, don't you fucking dare 3. Es mejor que lo que el destino te tenga reservado, chief It's better than what fate has in store for you, chief. 4. Luis, no te vayas muy lejos. No quiero que te hagas daño, hijo Luis, don't go too far. I don’t want you to get hurt, son. 5. ¿Otra vez Don Quixote? No es que quiera reprimir tu diversión, nieto mío, pero tal vez deberías leer algo sobre la fauna local del pueblo. Llegará un momento en que tendrás que cazar tú solo Don Quixote again? Not that I want to stifle your fun, my grandson, but perhaps you should read something about the local fauna of the town. There will come a time when you will have to hunt alone. 6. The conversation between young Luis and a villager: “My dad says your grandfather doesn’t have much time left for this world.” “Everyone says that…” "Luis?" “There has to be another town, another place that can help my grandfather!” "It's forbidden!" "I don't care! If they have medicine… medicine of any kind that can help, I can’t just sit here and do nothing!” “Luis, your grandfather is in battle with a demon. The medicine you seek cannot cure that!” “Grandpa isn't fighting a demon, you idiot! He's just very sick! How can you continue to believe in superstitions even after discovering that there is a bigger world outside of this place?! “Because I have faith, Luis! It's true, I'm not as smart as you, hell, none of us kids are, but this is our world! We have to respect that things are the way they are!” “Well, this is not the world I chose to be born into, and to hell with the way things are!” "Where are you going?" “I'm going to find Father Méndez and convince him to let me go out and look for a doctor!”

[kandisheek]

FIC REC WEEK 32 - EPISTOLARY

The Impossible Return by Goodnightsammy

Pairing: Steve/Bucky Rating: M Words: 25,935 Tags: Winter Soldier Steve, Love Letters, Identity Porn

Summary: In 1996, the wreckage of the Valkyrie was found off the coast of Greenland. The cockpit was empty. There was no body and no shield. There was, however, a leather-bound journal filled with letters to a man long dead. In 2011, that same man is found frozen at the bottom of the Alps, still very much alive. Or: The Winter Soldier Steve AU I never thought I'd write.

Reasons why I love it: Okay, so I already love fics that twist canon on its head, but when it's done as skillfully as this? It's on a whole other level. Steve's letters are so raw and incredibly written, and I love Bucky's relationship with the rest of the Avengers. Also, Steve as the Winter Soldier is fantastically characterized, god, I want to give him a hug so bad. Definitely check this one out, it's amazing!

Do Not Reply by FestiveFerret

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 33,159 Tags: Wrong Number AU, Secret Identity, Confessions

Summary: When Tony starts replying to a "daily deals" donotreply email address from some random security supply company, he finds shouting into the void soothingly cathartic. Less so when the void answers back.

Reasons why I love it: This fic is like sunshine on a cloudy day. Like a cup of warm tea on a cold night. Like a whole bunch of other poetic descriptions of heart-warming, tooth-rotting fluff. I love how real their relationship feels, their first meeting in the real world, Steve's backstory with Pierce, all of it. It's definitely one of my favorites, and if you haven't read it yet, I highly encourage you to do so, because it's excellent!

Long Distance by NotEvenCloseToStraight

Pairing: Steve/Bucky/Tony Rating: E Words: 44,017 Tags: Long Distance Relationship, Wrong Number, Polyamory Negotiations

Summary: At the end of a bad day, Tony gets drunk and texts Rhodey all his woes. Except he typed the wrong number, and has been texting someone named Steve– who is blond, 28, teaches art and somehow charmed by Tonys drunk rambles. One conversation turns into another, and soon they are texting and talking and flirting every day for weeks until Tony finally takes a chance and asks Steve to meet in person. Steve replies that he and his boyfriend Bucky would be thrilled to meet. Devastated, and feeling betrayed, Tony stops talking to Steve all together, and their budding relationship comes to a screeching halt. But Bucky has been eavesdropping on their conversations and texts and is halfway in love with Tony too, so he takes it upon himself to fix the rift between Steve and Tony. Tony isn’t sure about it at first, but after some cute videos, sexy selfies, several date nights, Tony starts to think that the three of them may actually work. Can Bucky and Steve convince Tony there is enough room in their bed and their arms for each other AND him? Will this Long Distance texting and phone call relationship ever make it into the same zip code?

Reasons why I love it: The progression of their relationship in this is so much fun. From Steve and Tony bonding to the betrayal of Tony's trust to the reconciliation with Bucky in the mix this time – it kept me on the edge of my seat the whole way through. The texting is super engaging, and I love the flirting (and eventual sexting, hehe). Plus, the trials and tribulations of long distance relationships are super well explored here. I love this fic, and I bet you will too!

[egginatendril]

Eyelids half shut linger on the dark corner of the bedroom. Your mind fills with dreams and nightmares where the lines blur and your body appalled and pleased with itself. You whisper a silent prayer to the corner of which you wish your demon to inhabit. Your fingers draw out the runes on your body, the ones that glow and wreath in your mind each time your eyes submit to darkness.

The type of darkness that feels warm, not cold. The type that is succumbed to, not feared nor avoided. The darkness that feels like home, like the depths of your soul was a seed spread afar from it at the beginning. The type your shadow yearns to rejoin.

You sense a flicker in the corner’s bleakness and your body temperature rises. You swear hellish eyes are lurking upon your breathless form. One blink and claws are upon you, horns impale the pillow and headboard, the scratches and screeching of wood failing its cellular bondage. A forked tongue run flames across your skin and you feel the sting of metal wrapped around your limbs.

Your bed ripped from you, your room, your home, your world. All mortal comforts diminished to a slither of a memory as your demon pulls you into the dark red void. No tour nor display, hellspawn sit on their hands as your long awaited return is delayed just a moment more. A moment for rekindling, reclaiming. Your demon drags you to the alter you were crafted on, and douse the stone in your fluids, using you, showing you what you were always supposed to have. His body in yours, and yours caves to him. Submission and soul bound, as he takes you back, to your origin.

[larkscribbles]

Fragmented

After an encounter with a new breed aboleths which seek his return, Quentin begins to remember. Sleep brings both a prelude of the past and a premonition of what’s to come. (A fanfic based on my dnd character’s 2nd nightmare sequence.)

TW: Eldritch horror and body horror

—————————————————————————-

Three pairs of footsteps echo through the corridor. Two perfectly in unison. One disjointed, stumbling. His throat is tight, his eyes have stopped darting. The man looks doggedly at the floor, mind still racing but not getting anywhere. His head is filled with static. He can’t think. His ears ring. The dread rooted in his chest is ice cold.

Quentin’s hands are bound in front by manacles. There are two pairs of gloved hands on his shoulders, willing him forwards. The faces are obscured by cowls. He cannot escape. He’s trapped like a rat and he knows it. He should flee, or try. The man tries to recall if he already has. Why is he alone now. He came here with his friends. Through his mental haze he can remember their screams. The rest is a blur. He hopes they are ok. That they got out. That they simply left him to his fate. He wouldn’t blame them.

They are in front of a door now. Looming, oppressive, thick and ancient stone. An intricately carved mural is displayed between the two doors. The raging sea, the creatures that lurk within, razor teeth and three vertical eyes. Tendrils reach to the heavens, clouds and light. Figures descend from the sky to combat them. They clash. He can scarcely hear the discordant screech of its opening over his own heartbeat.

Quentin feels if he were to die in this place it would be here. The door they enter through is the only way out.

The room is illuminated by the sickly green flames of braziers. A large pool dominates the space, set into the floor. The water is deep and dark. It is not tranquil, waves lap at the sides of the room. The air hums with energy. He is forced to his knees, they give out without any protest. Trembling, stomach twisting, teeth chattering. There is the rustle of fabric as his chaperones back up. They know what’s about to happen. He cannot fathom it.

The seconds drag on like hours. Agonising. The water parts. Four translucent tentacles raise from the pool. He doesn’t need to see the entire beast to know it must be huge. The man’s muscles seize prematurely. What is he to do? He knows what is to happen next. He’s seen it on the door. They advance, unhurried, growing ever closer.

Quentin tries to evade the inevitable, legs finally aiding him in scrambling backwards. He finds his voice a little late, coming out as something between a choked sob and a whimper. The floor is slick. He loses his footing. He strains every fibre of his being to keep as far away from them for as long as possible. He expects them to go for the legs. To drag him down deep into the water. They do not.

Instead they lunge. He doesn’t have time to close his eyes. Two tendrils force their way directly into the sockets. His scream is cut short as his airways are invaded, snaking up his nose and down his throat. The few moments his brain has to register what’s happening are excruciating. It is a mercy his consciousness quickly fades.

He becomes aware of himself in a void. It takes Quentin a moment to reorientate himself. He is in the liminal place between sleeping and waking. The events he just recalled… memories. Still fragmented. Buried deep within his subconscious, coming to the forefront in the aftermath of yet another aberration-based threat.

After all he has encountered. After all he has faced. He still knows so little about his affliction. It’s reasoning, it’s cause, the point of it. If he wasn’t an immaterial consciousness right now a bitter taste would be left in his mouth. He waits. Why he hasn’t awoken yet grates on his nerves. Something is holding him back.

It appears out of the darkness, humanoid. Blue-tinted translucent skin, shining with mucus. Gill slits line its neck and are interspersed between its ribs. Inky black eyes are placed in the sockets, a third one in the middle of its forehead. Sharpened teeth line the gums. A curling mass of tendrils atop its head writhe, a longer pair of extend from its back, just below the arms. A pulsating black mass sits in its chest, staining the veins black.

Quentin doesn’t feel fear. It washes off of him like water.

After all, why would he fear himself?

It’s the calmest he’s felt in months. Finally. Relief. Nothing to worry about.

Everything is as it should be.

He jerks awake, panting, human emotions surging back through his system. The shock of fear - cold tendrils spreading in his chest. He knew sleep would bring this. Quentin draws his bedroll to his mouth to stifle a sob. The others wouldn’t be surprised to hear him cry after the ordeals of the day. But they need their sleep. He needs to sleep. Just one damn peaceful night's sleep.

The cleric’s hand is soft on his shoulder.

“Quentin.”

He can barely see her face through the inky darkness. Expression unreadable.

“I was awake anyway, how about I make us some tea?” She lies, gently padding her way around the tent.

She doesn’t need to ask if he’s ok. They both know that would be a waste of breath.

[mrch0c0late]

She woke up in a field of stars, her own body a constellation scattered across the night sky. Bewildered, she looked down and saw her legs as shimmering trails of stardust, her arms as nebulae swirling in the cosmic void. Panic surged; how could she be here, and what was she now?q

She remembered the accident, the blinding headlights, the screech of tires, and then—nothing. Was this death? Her mind raced, trying to piece together fragments of a reality that seemed to slip further away with each passing moment. She reached out, or thought she did, and stars rearranged themselves at her will, forming shapes and patterns, galaxies and worlds.

"Hello?" she called out, her voice echoing in the infinite expanse, a ripple through space-time. There was no answer, only the hum of the universe vibrating in response.

Then, a presence. A being of pure light, coalescing from the stardust around her, took shape and moved closer. "Welcome," it said, its voice a harmonious symphony. "You are one of us now."

She recoiled, trying to grasp the enormity of what was happening. "One of you?"

The being nodded, a gesture that seemed almost human. "You are no longer bound by the flesh. You have become part of the cosmos, a guardian of the stars."

"But... how?" Her thoughts felt scattered, just like her form.

"The accident freed your essence," it explained. "You are now eternal, a sentinel of the universe, ensuring the balance of creation."

A flood of emotions crashed over her—fear, sorrow, awe, and strangely, a sense of peace. She looked around at the endless expanse, her new home. Slowly, she began to understand. She wasn't lost; she had been found.

And as she embraced her new existence, the stars around her pulsed in gentle acknowledgment, welcoming her into eternity.

[mimimarvelingmarvel]

time bound part ten

pairing: worst wolverine!logan howlett x f!mutant!reader

Part Ten - Masterlist

summary: Y/n’s life takes a dramatic turn when the Time Variance Authority intervenes, pulling her from a critical moment in her timeline. The TVA sends her to the void where she eventually meets with Deadpool and a very familiar face. With Deadpool's universe in the balance, alongside his reluctant would-be pal, Wolverine, and the enigmatic time-bending mutant known as the Veil, the trio must complete the mission and save Deadpool’s world from an existential threat.

overall warnings: 18+, Fem!Reader, AFAB Reader, Use of Y/N, Her X-Men name is Veil, She/her pronouns, Swearing, Angst, Heavy Violence, Character Death, Deadpool (he’s his own warning), Hurt, Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn, TVA

word count: 2.3k

"Look at that, yeah. See them big old hands coming through? Is there not a one-hundred-nothing inside that?" Or at least that’s what I think he said. It’s hard to tell over the roar of the wind whipping through the open windows, his thick accent muddling the words, and the cramped space in the backseat where Logan and I are squeezed together. My focus is elsewhere, drawn to Logan, who stares out the window with that familiar, distant expression, like he's carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. He always seems to have something on his mind, and I can’t help but wonder what it is this time.

The car ride to Cassandra’s lair is pure chaos. Elektra grips the steering wheel with a white-knuckled intensity, her eyes sharp as she navigates the treacherous terrain. The engine growls in protest as we barrel down the uneven road, jostling everyone inside. Laura, Blade, and Gambit are crammed into the backseat with us, their bodies pressed against one another, while Wade rides shotgun, his usual irreverence barely contained.

Up ahead, Johnny flies through the sky, a streak of flame cutting across the clouds as he scouts for any signs of trouble. His flames cast flickering shadows on the ground below, illuminating the path as we race toward our destination.

Deadpool breaks the tense silence, his voice cutting through the wind. “What Gambit’s trying to say is getting Juggernaut’s helmet ain’t gonna be easy. I’m just making stuff up with this.”

Blade doesn’t miss a beat. “Gun.”

Deadpool glances back, spotting the massive firearm Blade has in his hands. “Where do you get that little beauty?”

Elektra’s voice is cold and steady. “That’s the Punisher’s ’84.”

A split second later, the car jolts violently as Blade fires the gun out the window. The force of the shot nearly deafens me, and I flinch as the blast tears through the giant, skeletal hands of Ant-Man, shredding them into a shower of bone fragments. The car skids to a stop, screeching to a halt within the crook of his shattered arms, which now lay lifeless and splintered around us.

We all clamber out of the car, the scent of gunpowder and burnt metal lingering in the air. As we gather ourselves, my eyes are drawn upward to the horde of mutant variants that have gathered to protect Cassandra. They stand like an army ready to defend their queen. High above, Cassandra watches from the eye of a massive skull, her silhouette dark and menacing.

Blade’s grin is feral, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. “Oh, this is gonna be good.”

Gambit cracks his knuckles, a wild gleam in his purple eyes. “You know how long I’ve been waiting for this? Whoo, I’m about to make a name for myself here.”

Logan’s expression darkens, and he looks at me out of the corner of his eye, his knuckles brushing against my elbow. I return his gaze with a sad smile.

“I don’t think you guys walk away from this,” Logan mutters, his voice low and filled with a grim certainty.

Gambit grins, unperturbed. “You just make sure people know what happened here today. When you get out of here, you have a drink for me, yeah?”

Blade steps forward, his tone commanding. “You guys stay on our six, get inside. We’ll make sure you get the package.”

Elektra nods, her gaze steely. “Then we’ll get our ending.”

As if on cue, Johnny lands beside me, his flames flickering out as he touches down. “They’re toast,” he says with a smirk.

I cringe at his words. “You did not just say that.”

He just laughs, but the laughter is cut short as the shouting begins. The battlefield erupts into chaos, a cacophony of clashing blades and explosive gunfire. I charge into the fray, my blade slicing through the air with deadly precision. I sweep my legs over an opponent, feeling the satisfying crunch of bone as I drive my blade into their chest. The adrenaline pumps through my veins as I move with deadly grace, each strike calculated, each move precise.

A vision flashes in my mind, warning me of an enemy approaching from behind. I pivot on my heel, spinning just in time to deflect their attack and drive my blade into their heart. The battle rages on for what feels like an eternity, my body moving on instinct as I cut down one foe after another. Azrael appears before me, his eyes burning with a malevolent fire. We clash again and again, the power of our strikes sending shockwaves through the ground. But I’m faster, and after a brutal exchange, I manage to land a few hits, weakening him just enough to create an opening.

Wade, Logan, and I sprint through the chaos, slipping past the front lines and into the mouth of the skull, where Cassandra awaits. The interior of the skull is dimly lit, the air thick with the stench of decay. Cassandra reclines in a chair, her posture relaxed, a delicate cup of tea in her hand. She looks every bit the picture of calm amid the storm raging outside.

“You three escaping I could live with,” Cassandra says, her voice dripping with condescension. “But coming back, willingly. You’re so silly.”

Deadpool’s voice is strained, his usual bravado tempered by exhaustion. “I just need to get home.”

Cassandra’s smile is cold and devoid of warmth. “Well, that’s not on the menu, I’m afraid. It’s death or enslavement, a la carte, of course. Up!” With a flick of her wrist, Wade is flung into the air, his body slamming into the ceiling with a sickening crunch. He crashes to the floor, groaning in pain as Cassandra turns her gaze on me.

“I think you may be of use,” she muses, her eyes narrowing as she studies me.

Before I can react, she flicks her wrist again, sending a searing pain through my skull. I fall to my knees, clutching my head as the agony intensifies, my vision blurring to white. My mind feels like it’s being torn apart, but just as quickly as it started, the pain stops, leaving me gasping for breath.

“Stay,” Cassandra commands, and I feel my muscles lock into place, immobilizing me where I kneel. My head and neck the only thing I can move.

“It’s nice to give someone else a chance to talk,” she says, motioning towards Wade, who is still groaning in pain on the floor.

Logan’s eyes blaze with fury as he charges at her, claws extended. “Not my strong suit,” he growls.

But Cassandra is faster. With a wave of her hand, she redirects his attack, forcing him to stab his own legs. Logan collapses, blood seeping through his jeans as he gasps in pain. I flinch, unable to bear the sight, and turn away.

Cassandra circles Logan, her curiosity piqued. “You are an interesting one, aren’t you? I do feel like you get lost behind all of this,” she says, gesturing vaguely around her. “Deadpools are a dime a dozen here in The Void. But you, what’s going on in here?” She taps his forehead lightly, her fingers pressing into his skull.

Logan’s pained screams echo through the chamber as she delves into his mind. I close my eyes, trying to block out the sound, but it’s impossible. The anguish in his voice cuts through me, and I grit my teeth, fighting against the hold she has on me.

“Not what I expected back here,” Cassandra murmurs, her tone almost gentle. “You’re hiding from them, from all the ones you let down. So much pain. My little animal.”

Her words ignite a fury deep within me. Logan has spent his whole life being treated like an animal, caged and forced to fight for survival. The anger surges through me, and I struggle against the invisible bonds holding me in place.

I catch sight of Laura throwing down a bag, and Wade, now healed, slowly approaches it. My heart races as I realize what he’s about to do. I stop resisting, instead focusing on keeping Cassandra’s attention on Logan as Wade retrieves Juggernaut’s helmet. I hold my breath as he steps closer and slams the helmet onto her head, gripping her arms tightly as she screams in rage, recoiling from Logan.

Wade’s voice is a deadly whisper. “You’re gonna send us home, then I’m gonna twist your fucking head off.”

Cassandra laughs, the sound sharp and grating. “Why are you laughing?” I ask, a cold dread settling in my stomach.

“I can’t send you unless you get this thing off my head,” Cassandra explains, her voice dripping with malice. “And as soon as you do that, I’m going to boil your brains on an atomic level whilst flicking my bean. Either you kill me, or I kill you. Both wonderful options.”

Deadpool tightens his grip. “You want me to do it?”

Logan shakes his head. “No, I’ll do it.”

Deadpool scoffs. “I have her neck right here, it’s really no problem.”

Logan’s voice cuts through the tension like a blade, his words sharp and unyielding. “You’ll screw it up.”

Deadpool rolls his eyes, exasperation lacing his tone. “Oh, come on, Mr. PG-13, it’s the last one.” His usual bravado feels almost forced, like he’s trying to break through the thick atmosphere hanging over the group.

Suddenly, a gunshot rips through the air, loud and jarring. My heart lurches in my chest, skipping a beat as the sound reverberates around us. 

“No, no, no,” I whisper, my voice trembling with panic. The horror of what’s just happened begins to sink in.

Pyro stands there, his hand still clutching the smoking gun, his expression a mix of defiance and desperation. He’s shot Cassandra. The blood spreads quickly across her clothes, a stark contrast to her pale skin.

“You have no idea what it’s like,” Pyro stammers, his voice shaking as he tries to justify his actions. “Day after day, ‘shovel the shit,’ ‘fetch the meats.’ I have spent my entire exist—”

But Logan doesn’t let him finish. With a brutal efficiency, he silences Pyro with a single, powerful punch. The force of it sends Pyro crumpling to the ground, his words cut off as his body hits the floor.

Logan’s eyes are cold, almost detached, as he looks down at Pyro. “Not everyone gets a speech,” he says flatly, his tone devoid of any sympathy. “She’s gonna die.”

Deadpool, trying to diffuse the situation, steps forward, his voice taking on a slightly desperate edge. “Okay, hey, if I take this helmet off, you promise you won’t kill us?”

Cassandra, even as she bleeds out, doesn’t miss a beat. Her voice, though weaker, is still laced with that same venomous edge. “I promise I will kill her first.”

Logan’s growl is low, menacing, a sound that sends shivers down my spine. 

Deadpool throws up his hands in frustration. “Why are you like this?”

Cassandra sighs, the sound almost wistful. “I wish I knew.”

“Take it off,” Logan orders, his voice brooking no argument.

Deadpool looks at him, confused. “What?”

My eyes dart between Cassandra and Logan, anxiety gnawing at my insides. “Logan, she said she’ll kill me. I don’t like that idea.”

But Logan remains calm, his gaze steady as he meets mine. “Trust me. Take it off.”

Deadpool presses, his voice tinged with doubt. “Why?”

I take a deep breath, the tension in the air almost suffocating. After a moment, I nod, my voice barely above a whisper. “Take it off.”

Deadpool hesitates, his usual confidence faltering. “This is our only chance to fix our shit.”

Logan snaps, his patience fraying. “Take it off! I am wearing this suit. And that means a lot of things, but most of all, it means I’m an X-Man. I am the X-Man. And I know your brother. As much as I want to fucking kill you—every bone in my body wants to fucking kill you—he would not let me stand here and watch you die. Take your hands off. This is for him. This is for Charles.”

With deliberate movements, Logan removes the helmet, the gesture heavy with significance.

Cassandra’s expression softens, her voice losing some of its harshness. “My brother loved you.”

Logan nods, his voice quiet, filled with a deep, unspoken emotion. “He loved all of us.”

Cassandra sighs, a bittersweet smile playing on her lips. “Hmm. Must be nice.”

Logan’s voice is steady, filled with quiet conviction. “He would have loved you too. If he knew about you, if he knew where you were, he would have torn a hole in the fucking universe to bring you home.”

Cassandra’s smile turns bitter, her eyes darkening. “This is home.”

Logan’s gaze is intense, almost pleading. “Then at least let us save his.”

Cassandra’s eyes flicker with something almost like understanding. “You wanna hear something crazy?” she says, her tone shifting. “An amateur magician roamed through here a while back. I killed him, of course, wore his skin around for four days. But I found this little trinket on his lovely fingers.”

With a flourish, she begins to open a portal, the swirling energy forming a glowing circle.

Deadpool’s eyes widen in amazement. “Strange. Marvel’s sparkle circle.”

Logan eyes the portal warily. “What is that?”

Cassandra smirks, the glint of mischief returning to her gaze. “This is your way home. I do owe you for saving my life, but let’s keep things interesting. I’d say you have about four seconds before your life’s through.”

Wade grins. “Race you!”

Without hesitation, the three of us bolt toward the rapidly closing portal, the adrenaline surging through my veins. We leap through it just in time, the sensation of free-falling overwhelming as the portal closes behind me, leaving us to face whatever awaits on the other side.

Next Part

A/N: Boring chapter imo but i have big plans tehe

taglist: @oscarissac2099 @somiaw @100percentlazybonez @obsessedwthdilfs @sun7lowxr @corvid007

[welcometomybraincomics]

Prompt: outside the window, you see something you can’t believe [Mother/Mothership]

Vole stood in the garden staring out the window, overwatering his plants in shock. Out in the vastness of the void, squirming just beyond the glass of the ship green house, was a small sproutling tumbling slowly in the vacuum. It was a caterpillar that had just bloomed a few weeks ago, one of the first generation of Plante born on the Mothership, and somehow it had escaped the nursery and squirmed out an airlock and was now tumbling through the vacuum. Its little green body contrasted starkly with the dark expanse behind it, making star light disappear for seconds at a time as it’s body twirled head over tail over and over.

“Frag.” The bot dropped his watering can and bolted out of green house. The little plant-bug was not supposed to be there. “NEX!” Vole shouted, sprinting down the hall. “A sproutling escaped the nursery!!!” 

The leafy cat bounded into the hall, ears perked in alarm. “Where!?”

“Void!” Vole shouted back, peds screeching as he turned down the hall and leaped out the nearest air lock. Propelling himself with his jets, he thanked his lucky stars that Plante are different from most organics and don’t immediately die without air and nabbed the little caterpillar still wriggling just outside the garden window. He returned to the ship to the sight of a frazzled leaf cat who eagerly took the little grub from the blue bot’s servos as he closed the air lock behind him.

“How did it even get out?” Nex asked, exasperated. It was pointless wondering how the leaflet got out of the ship, the little sproutlets had proven themselves to be crafty little escape artists. This certainly wasn’t the first time a sproutling had been found tumbling through space. The problem was how it had escaped the nursery they were all kept in, especially designed to keep the little buggers contained and safe, and proven inescapable by the older, more experienced Plante.

Before Vole could could utter a response, his brother came around the corner shaking a bottle of spray paint. 

“Hey, have you seen a little caterpillar anywher-Oh.” Clearly, the red mech had some kind of prank plan involving spray paint, a leaf caterpillar, and possibly some easily scare-able organics if the massive grin that fell off his face the instant he saw the caterpillar in Nex’s mouth was anything to go by.

The cat shot Striker a death glare, dropping the sproutlet back to his brother’s servos and giving him 1.5 seconds to turn tail and run.

—-

For a little more context look at Robits, The Epic Train Wreck Dumpsterfire of a Transformers sidestory AU

[sinusncoffee]

Find me in the shadows, at mountain feet, underneath hills, at the heart of fissures, slithering in cracks of broken souls. Find me in corners that never bathe in light, in places darker than space, in iambic pentameters dedicated to the void. Find me in songs nobody knows, not even in their choruses that someone might recognize. I hide in every second of artists’ worst days, in the nooks where the lion gets the deer, on the road where tires screech but it is too late and blood spills on the asphalt. I fly on the wings of moths right as they burn in their utmost glory. I live on the sound of wind on high buildings, crashing into the speakers of the phone you are trying to reach, and you only hear me, not the person you’re trying to stop from jumping. I linger on top of your iced coffee that you think would make your day, but you sip its bitterness and realize it, yet you deny it.

In fact, you never want to find me; I find you, drag you down to my starless world, and sometimes release you on a leash when I need some me-time; I, too, need me-time, but you always rebound and come back. I am your only true friend and only foe. I am your bliss and curse. I am your only comfort as you fall asleep; you love me enough to wish never to wake up again. Sometimes I think I got that wrong; you sort of wish to get rid of me, but who are you without me? What are you without me?

You know the answer, so whenever I am on a break, you try to find me in the shadows, at mountain feet, underneath hills, at the heart of fissures, slithering in cracks of broken souls. You know it when you read Kafka that I blessed him and not you. You know that I was charitable with Vincent and not you. You know I inspired Poe much more than you. You envy them and hate me more, but have nowhere to go but back to me.

Long ago, we signed a pact; I take your comfort but make you successful. I get my heaviness to settle in your chest, pressure your lungs and heart, and give you a sick-leave. I devour your face from behind your skin and skull, squeeze the sanity out of your brain, and give you ideas to create art with. I give you restlessness and you never waste time in what others call a “comfort zone” -- you have none actually. I give you shivers and hot-flashes but you get attention and blushes. I wear your teeth out from clenching and gnashing and crashing but give you… nothing really -- I’d just like to hear your jaw pop someday.

I know sometimes I get between you and your social life, like when I woke up one day telling you we are not friends with your closest friend at that time any longer because she triggered me with her positivity, or those countless times I refused to hang out with people we don’t know, or when I was too heavy for you that you would just watch your phone ring five times in a row and you couldn’t pick it up, but that was all after we amended the pact, remember? Remember when you would freak out whenever you hear a phone ring or whenever you have to answer it? I fixed that -- you don’t even give a damn about answering it. Be frank, have I ever screwed up a job interview, a scholarship application, or a presentation? I am your greatest support throughout your academic and professional life. That is in return for your sleep, comfort, and social life -- nothing in life is free, baby.

Okay, I admit I signed it and forged your signature, but it is what it is. I am here. You are here. We are both bound by life, and perhaps death -- who knows?

Even when we walk in bright daylight, we are walking in a cave. Even when the sky is drizzling, we know it is a hurricane. Even when we are cheerful, we are far from that. Even when we are successful, we’re such a disappointment. Even when we are floating, we are drowning. I am stuck on you, or on your soul -- no big difference. Whatever your brush puts on canvas takes my shape and darkness. Yes, others are sick of your dark art, but here is a challenge: draw art that does not resemble me. And your poems and novels -- why are they pessimistic? You find that hilarious, don’t you? Because you were actually being hopeful when you wrote that. Well, when I inspired you to write them -- my brainchild has to bear my essence, after all why would you take credit for what I designed?

Thanks to my darkness, others find a shady mountain in you. Whenever they open up, whenever you listen, it is like they were lost in a desert and finally found a spot cooled by the mighty rocks that are actually beautiful with bearing and resilience. Without me, you wouldn’t have become the voice of the silent; it is me who gave you the words and the content, it is me who made your lonely days meaningful as you spent them wondering if you were real, what it meant to be real, and if others were real, too. I am the minotaur in the labyrinth of your brain. I am the red scarf around The Little Prince’s neck -- I was the snake all along, but he was too naive to know it. I am the Medea who kills the vicious buds of dandelions that grow on your head. The labyrinth wouldn’t exist without me. The Little Prince’s life wouldn’t matter without me. Your head would’ve been a field of dandelions that some brisk wind could scatter in one blow.

I am the aesthetic you crave but can never share. Others think you are sophisticated, and you are, and you like it. But at what cost? You can rarely enjoy a new song with a friend, you will never find a lover, and nobody will ever read your words. But I do.

Be grateful that you have some friends left with your cyclothymic mood swings. Who wants to be friends with someone who hates them sometimes? Who would like to build a family with a person who requires zero distraction for more than half of the day or else she breaks down? Who would bear to share a house with someone who is either too tired to do chores or is too loud and energetic that she makes too much noise, dancing and singing around the house, doing all the chores at once? Who would still respond to you after your late replies that sometimes never get sent because you are not in the mood or you don’t have the energy to write a few words back? It is rare to find a friend or a lover or a family member who would be able to cope with those days when your mere existence pollute the air with tension, when you either eat anything and everything for no apparent reason, when you play music and bang everything with your fists to the beat like a madwoman, when you feel like screaming is a normal daily activity, or when you are deadly silent like you never existed.

Too much to explain, energy too low to do. Only I understand without you uttering a word. Only I totally understand. Your fight, flight, or freeze episodes are too much to handle, and they prolong, they take over you, they shape you better than Michaelangelo did to marble. The pills you swallow to make your sanity persist longer are just another addiction, just like caffeine; they nurture me. I am no Dali, but I claim the bruises and psoriasis on your skin as well as the far-fetched sleep-visions that are neither dreams nor nightmares -- just manic torture, are my masterpieces. The tasteless grey numb days are the shield I protect you from going insane with; how do you think a body made of clay would survive what your brain and soul go through -- what we go through without what you call depressive episodes? Your brain, too, is made of clay and blood and flesh and tender nerves, and it has a limit that your mind does not acknowledge. You want to focus on everything, and yeah, sometimes I have to unplug your brain from your mind and that’s when you get that floating sensation, disassociation from the present, from the people around you, from the floor under your feet, from the body that encloses you. I do squeeze your brain and give you killer migraines sometimes, especially when you get the dumbest idea a human ever had -- cut the paroxetine I adore, but imagine I wasn't there? Your head would explode. It is like staring at the sun at midday, refusing to blink; blindness is all you get. I may also be harsh on you in a way that you perceive as guilt, but I am the Socratese to my Plato, and I have to reproach you sometimes to make you a better human, to make you learn from your mistakes, to perfect you. And you know it, but you deny it. So you look for me in the shadows, at mountain feet, underneath hills, at the heart of fissures, slithering in cracks of broken souls. You look for me in corners that never bathe in light, in places darker than space, in iambic pentameters dedicated to the void.

Your imaginary friends, your go-to places that exist in your mind palace, what you find between the lines of lyrics, what gives you goosebumps with crescendos, what catharts your soul in theatrical deaths, what you feel on mountain tops, what makes your legs take you on a run when angry, what spreads your arms like wings in the rain, what soothes you when you pet your cat, what you touch in trees, what you see in sequoias, what you hear in silence, what you taste in coffee, what you hate in honeycombs, what you love about travelling, what makes you sing under the stars -- the meaning and meaningless in everything is always me. And you. Us.

Yet, we flourish in the shadows, in corners that never bathe in light, in iambic pentameters dedicated to the void.

[former-lurker]

Tbh if passerine podcast podficced ours poetica I think i would simply die

[chaos-burst]

If you're still doing the fic thing, Of Broken Things?

Caleb enjoys his peace and quiet in his small bookshop. He spends his time with his best friends Beau and Nott and enjoys the occasional chats with his regular customers Caduceus and Fjord–Caduceus is always looking for cookbooks or gardening guides while Fjord enjoys stories about pirates and magical realism. He drinks tea, reads a lot, cuddles with his cat and when he’s feeling especially bold he goes out across the street to have an awkward yet somehow nice chat with the big and quiet owner of a small flower shop called Yasha.

Caleb’s peace and quiet is threatened to come to an end when siblings Mollymauk and Jester move into the empty store next to Caleb’s bookshop and open up a tattoo studio of all things. They are loud, extroverted, they listen to the strangest forms of music, they play pranks. They seem to invade every aspect of Caleb’s life, because Beau starts talking about Jester as if she’s her new best friend. Yasha starts talking to Mollymauk of all people. Fjord actually considers getting a tattoo and Caduceus just loves to talk to Jester and Yasha about flowers and baked goods. When Nott also starts hanging out with Jester, Caleb feels like he should start to see what all the fuss is about.

He’s definitely getting in over his head as soon as Mollymauk starts flirting with him, because Caleb is too broken for a relationship and he’s definitely too broken for Mollymauk in particular, who seems so bright and whole and at peace with himself.