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puhpandas · 7 months

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Watch

(2,984 words)

Gregory dies saving the Pizzaplex from the virus. In return, Evan saves Gregory by giving him the gift of life. Evan is done with just watching. (warnings: major character (child) death (gregory), implied murder, implied stabbing, blood.

Evan had to go fight his Father on his own.

Vanessa had been too incapacitated. Too distraught to come along. She'd woken up not too long after Gregory had freed her, hair greasy and wirey and body weak, knees wobbly. It had only gotten worse after she'd seen the cost.

Theres nothing Evan could have helped with. All he could do is finish things.

His Father had gone down easily. Theres not much you can do as an animatronic on the brink of collapse, no matter how much of your virus is spread across the network. No matter how many brute machines you have at your command. Its hard to kill somebody whose already dead. To hurt somebody who isnt tangible.

All Evan had to do was call in a favor.

The amalgamation hadn't needed any more than a promise. It had thrown itself at his Father, giving itself up to secure that his Father is gone forever. For good.

Evan had promised to set the fire. He knows that Freddy has a lighter in his finger. He knows that his Father is stuck, and is at Evan's will.

Evan has the power to take the call, here. He can set the fire whenever he wants. He gets to choose when it all ends.

He hasn't, yet. He just needs to see Gregory again.

Vanessa has barely moved by the time Evan phases through floors, arriving back in Vannys old hideout. Shes sitting up, but unmoving. Before, her shoulders shook harshly with barely contained grief.

Now, it's like shes empty. Like there's nothing left of her.

After what was lost to free her, Evan understands why.

He can barely look, once he floats next to Vanessa. Gregory is right where Evan had left him, still laid flat on the linoleum tile under Vanessa's hunched form.

Shes almost curled around him, as if to protect him. He cant be protected much, anymore. But he deserves to have whats left of him taken care of.

It hurts so much more than the others when Evan forces himself to look. Nothings changed; Gregory is still unmoving, eyes open and unseeing. The knife is discarded to their left, tossed in some corner to rot.

The floor is a mess. Gregorys blood stains every crevice. His blue shirt is barely recognizable, violent rips and tears litter the area near his stomach, and blood stains the fabric a sickening black.

Evan stares at his face. It doesnt so much as twitch.

He knows better than to beg. He knows better than to hope, or plead, or wish.

He's dead. Evan knows. He's known this whole time. He knew when he'd gone off to fight his Father. To get revenge.

Gregory's dead.

It hurts so much more than the others.

Evan floats downwards, sitting by Gregory's body next to Vanessa as much as he can as a ghost. She doesn't seem to register that hes there, just staring blankly at Gregory. At the empty husk of the boy Evan had just begun to know.

Shes already expressed her grief. She'd yelled and screamed and sobbed when he'd still been alive, clinging to life by a thread, but despite Vanessa's attempts, he'd died in her arms.

They'd only shared little words before it was over.

They'd watched as the life left his eyes. Evan watched as Gregory went still in that way only dead people can. He'd watched as Vanessa fell apart.

It hurt so much more than the others.

He'd just been getting to know Gregory. He'd only scraped the surface. He'd only known Gregory for six hours, but he'd felt like he'd known him for a lifetime.

He'd just been getting to know him, and Evan had been planning to stick around. He'd been planning to follow Gregory. He'd been planning to take the one child who'd been brave enough, smart enough, to survive, and lead him to the source.

Hed been planning on finally doing something. He'd been planning on ending it all, and saving one child out of it. He'd been planning on being done with watching, and doing something about it. He'd tried to help the others, to guide them where it mattered, help them survive, but they'd been snuffed out before they could begin.

And all Evan could do is watch.

He's so tired of just watching.

"Gr-- Gree-- Gregory..." Freddys voice filters out of the watch, crackling and glitching. "Gregor-- ory-- Please tell me you are saf-- fe. I cannot re-- each you--"

Something snaps in Evan, at that. Freddy doesn't know. Freddy had tried so hard, like Evan had, to save someone. To save one person after so many were lost.

Evan has seen Freddy. Hes seen them all. Hes seen how they all wake up the next day horrified at the blood under their claws, and the memories of murdering burned into their code. Evan has seen how all Freddy's been able to do is watch as he's hijacked, unable to fight back, and forced to sit backseat in his own body.

This time had been different. Freddy had been spared. Freddy had fought for Gregory. Freddy didnt just watch this time.

Evan doesnt want to just watch anymore.

Evan's stomach burns, normally, his soul is cold, as lifeless ghosts are. Just a figment of who he used to be.

So unlike the chill hes used too, how unfeeling he usually is, warmth bursts in his stomach, at hot as fire, and it swirls. Unfurling and spreading.

It tingles, prickling and sharp, and to Evan, somehow, it feels like an invitation.

Evan had been the first. He'd been there for it all. He'd been there when Charlie had died. He'd been there when she had given life to the other children. He'd been there when they'd all lost their humanity. He'd been there for the first fire, the second, and soon, the third.

Evan had been the first.

His chest burns with intensity, hot and bubbling.

Gregory will be the last.

He welcomes it; the simmering feeling underneath the film of numbness. It claws to escape, and Evan let's it.

He curls inward, a burst of light shining from his body, and at its warmth, it's like Vanessa comes back to life. She jerks when a glow spreads across the room, twisting her neck to watch it with wide eyes.

He cups his hands gently, shutting his eyes and reaching inward.

The Remnant responds to him. It hears him. It hears his grief, his wishes, and his determination.

Like the others, Gregory never deserved to die. Like the others, he'd been lost to his Father. Like the others, he'd been lost to a long string of tragedy that began on the day Evan died.

His chest opens, a yellow, pinprick of light seeping out and into his hands.

Unlike the others, Gregory will be the last.

Evan holds the remnant gently as can be, and ignores the blatant emptiness inside of him. He ignores how much weaker he feels. He ignores how he essentially just halved his life force.

Instead, he offers the life to Gregory's body, like giving a gift.

It receives it.

The light seeps into Gregory's body, spreading across his injuries and soaking in. Light crawls across his skin, spiderwebbing and stitching skin and flesh together.

The light mends Gregory's body, fixing what had been broken.

Evan never thought that anything involved with his Father could be good. That it could help instead of hurt.

But when Vanessas lights up as Gregory's eyes ignite with life, all gifted by the warmth in Evan's soul, he thinks it's not the magic that's bad, but the man who wields it.

Its agonizing; waiting those few seconds for Gregory to wake up, but the shine that had re-entered his eyes only grows brighter when he gasps harshly, jerking to life.

With a cry of joy, Evan shoots forward, attempting a hug as much as he can as a ghost. At the same time, Vanessa sobs with barely contained relief and reaches out, pulling Gregory out of the puddle of his own blood and setting him gently against her chest.

Evan meets his eyes, and man, do they look exhausted, but they also look alive. Evan cant contain the grin on his face when Gregory's eyes dart to him, seeing but not. Hes still in that stage between floaty and aware, but Evan waits for him.

It only takes a moment for Gregory himself to understand, but then hes clutching back, breaths deep, life laced within every intake of air.

Vanessa is crying. Shoulder shaking sobs that leave tracks down the dirt and blood on her face, and snot smudged across her cheek.

He doesnt blame her. Evan feels more alive than he has in a long time.

"You--" Gregory rasps out before coughing, but despite the fact, it's the most beautiful sound Evan's heard in years. Compared to the last words Gregory spoke before now being goodbyes. "You saved me."

Evan knows that Gregory knows. He knows everything. When Evan shared a piece of himself with Gregory, it connected them. Their souls are entertwined, now.

Evan feels the remnants of true fear deep inside Gregory of truly dying. He feels the relief that its over. He feels the accomplishment that nobody else will be lost.

Evan knows Gregory knows his feelings, as well. Evan knows Gregory feels the grief for the others. He knows he feels the satisfaction of sending his Father back to Cassidy. He knows he feels the anger at being forced to observe for so long.

So Evan just nods, the permanent tears on his face growing thicker and inkier. "I did."

And it's as simple as that.

Gregorys tucked under Vanessa's chin, her stringy hair falling out of what used to be a ponytail. Shes still sobbing, and Evan doesnt think she'd be able to do much of anything right now.

That's okay. Evan knows Vanessa had cried for the others, too. He knows Vanessa had been horrified at the memories. He knows shed been lost for years.

"You're you?" Gregory asks, weak and thready. He brings up a shaky hand and sets it on Vanessa's arm. Shes still wearing the bunny suit; she hadn't had it in her to tear it off when the only thing shed been focused on was the kid who saved her dying in her arms.

All Vanessa does is nod, over and over, almost deliriously. "Yes--" She sobs. "Because-- Because of you."

And its right there that Evan let's himself relish in the fact that they're all here. After watching so much grief and tragedy take place, its finally over. Gregory saved them, and now Evan was able to save Gregory.

He laughs in delight, feeling more hope and warmth than he has in a long time.

Three victims sit in a circle, relieved and alive.

"Gr-r--" Gregory's watch sputters to life, staticky and warbling. "Gregory-- I'm so worried about yo-- you-- P-P-Please respo--"

Three sets of eyes blow open.

"Freddy!"

👻

Gregory and Evan had been alone together all night. Freddy wasnt able to follow them everywhere, and Gregory, with that determination that saved them that night, carried them far. Deep into the belly of the beast.

But its only when they finally haul themselves up when the clock gets a little too close to six, hop in Vanessa's car, and hightail it to her apartment that Gregory and Evan are alone again.

Vanessa, with a little more energy in her step, had followed through with her promise. Before they'd left, she said she would set the fire. All she wanted to do is take care of a few things. Freddy went along with her, wanting to collect his friends when they wake up free of the virus.

It's just the two of them, now. They're sitting (floating, in Evan's case) on Vanessa's couch, Gregory is eating some cereal, since its all Vanessa had on hand, and hes wearing one of Vanessa's too-big shirts when his had been too ruined to keep.

Theres some cartoon on the TV about a girl and a weird blue floating blob, but Evan isnt paying attention. Not when Gregory is staring at his bowl with furrowed brows, lost in thought.

Evan can tell he wants to say something, so he just sits patiently, and stays quiet when Gregory eventually starts opening and closing his mouth, trying to find the words.

"Evan--" Gregory begins eventually, and when Evan looks over, Gregory's looking at the carpet instead of him. "Um... can I ask you something?"

Evan nods. "Of course."

"Kay." Gregory responds, and then sighs, scratching the back of his neck and fiddling with the fold of fabric where his stomach is. "Uh... well..."

Evan stays silent, waiting for Gregory to gather his thoughts. Evan had hated it when people rushed him when he spoke while he was alive. He wasnt stupid, just nervous.

Eventually, Gregory throws his hands down and huffs, as if biting the bullet. He turns to Evan, looking him in the eyes as he asks, "Why did you save me?"

Evan blinks, and looks at Gregory, confused. They'd already communicated everything when Gregory woke up. "What do you mean?"

Gregory fidgets again, glancing to the side and looking frustrated. "Well-- I mean... just, why did you choose me?"

Evan furrows his brows. "Um... I dont understand."

Gregory growls, but Evan can sense it's not at him, just at Gregory's own scrambled thoughts. He rubs at his eyes, before, "I mean--!. eight other kids went missing before me."

Evan starts to get it. "Oh."

"Just... why did you save me?" Gregory asks again, a little more surely this time. "Like... you literally gave up half of your life force just so I wouldnt die. You met so many other kids that didnt make it... I... just want to know why you see me as so special to sacrifice for."

Evan shakes his head, twisting in place to better face Gregory. He tries to convey so much in one motion, his brain swirling with thoughts, and remnants of feeling from past memories.

"Gregory..." Evan glances downward, an old feeling of grief coming back. It's his old friend at this point. "...Nobody deserved to die. Nobody. But... in a way, some of us didnt. I'm still here, and I'm not going anywhere anytime soon. I'm technically living, arent I?"

Gregory nods, but he looks confused. "Yeah, I would say so. But what does this have to do with what I said?"

Evan looks at the couch, watching as his fingers phase through the cushion. "I mean... the others, they died, but they didnt leave. They were still there, but... they weren't living. Bit by bit, they lost themselves, until they really were as good as dead."

Gregory is silent, so Evan continues. "I didnt feel like I was living for a long time, even though I technically wasnt dead. I had my friend. That's what we had that the others didnt. That's how we held on. But when she left... I had to stay for her to, as well, and I was stuck. I couldn't see my family. I was living, but I didnt want to be. I was living, but didnt have a life."

Evan glances up, and sees Gregory's own face looking back at him, eyes sad. Evan frowns, feeling decades of memories creep back up on him. He shoves them down. "All I did was watch tragedy and death occur for years, while I was alone. And I couldnt do a thing about it."

"You were done just watching." Gregory mumbles.

Evan nods. "...I was. So when you came along, and you survived, and dodged death, and saved everybody... you didnt deserve to die. More than the others. After all youd done, you deserved to live."

Theres a stretch of silence, after that. Evan has patience to spare, so when Gregory just stares, probably turning Evan's words over in his head, he waits.

After a while, Gregory tries to set a hand on Evan's shoulder, but it phases through. Gregory frowns, eyes downcast as he stares at his body dissipating at Gregory's touch, falling away like sand. "You havent felt alive in a long time, huh...?"

Theres that connection, again. Evan's gonna have to get used to this; he hasnt been connected to someone this way since Cassidy.

He nods, but in the melancholy, he smiles, and looks pointedly at Gregory. "Yeah," He agrees. "but that changed."

Gregory understands quickly. Evan pushed all of his feelings and earnesty towards that seemingly now permanent sense of Gregory presence, after all. He looks suprised, if his wide eyes are any indication, but then he finally sees the undeniable smile on Evans face, and Evan can sense that Gregory believes him.

Tears swim in Gregory's eyes, and he wipes at them half heartedly, grin on his face. He chuckles wetly. "Would you believe me if I said nobody has ever said something like that to me?"

Evan fractures, smiling. "Not really. I doubt you've met a lot of other dead people."

"Youd be right." Gregory replies. "Man, I wish I could hug you. It doesnt feel right just letting you sit there and be all... ghosty after saying something like that."

Evan chuckles at that, smile wide. "Put your arms around me."

Gregory raises a brow, but does it anyway.

It's funny. How Gregory, a boy who was in the wrong place at the wrong time saved the ones at the heart of the tragedy. He saved everyone without being involved himself, and Evan cant help but feel like Gregory saved him as well, in a way.

And Evan, who shuts his eyes and brings forth every ounce of power he has as a poltergeist, let's his body fall against another solid one, and sink into the hug.

ao3 link

#i kinda just wanted to explore evans character.#he isnt present in the day of security breach (he finally got some rest thank god)#but i imagine it would be even more miserable than before.#before #he had cassidy after a few years of being completely alone #but he had to watch the others become like animals #save for charlie.#now #he knows his family is dead #and that theyre waiting for him. but he has to stay tethered to the real world because of cassidy #shes determined to keep afton in hell #but when glitchtrap was created (its what we thought before ruin. w glitchtrap being afton but not actually him) he rained hell upon the pi #and hes forced to stay miserable and away from his family for her. plus he has to watch other children die without being able to do anythin #i just think it would be really awful. hes lost his tether #he probably felt empty for a long time. years and years. but then gregory comes along and he has somebody again :)#imagine 3 star fam happens as normal but now with evan!#he and gregory are soul bonded now and basically brothers lol. remnant brothers. golden duo just became golden triplets #flashlight duo #my fics #pandas writes #gregory and evan #evan afton #fnaf gregory #fnaf fic #blood warning #death warning #knife warning #stabbing warning #stabbing mention #implied death

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justarandomlambblog · 4 days

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guess who got another story idea. thats right this rando

I'm thinking of an AU where Lamb and a companion/friend/sibling perhaps figure out why exactly the sheep are being hunted down and have a "fuck it if we're gonna die for something we MIGHT do let's die actually doing it" and spend years researching magic and breaking into the old Realm of Death's (Sleeping Hollow), and eventually figure out a way to bypass the Bishops' chains through ritual, a lot of very daring theft (needing ichor from all four bishops so legit just stealing their bloodied and ichor-stained bandages after they've been changed) and finding like 100 people willing to give some of their blood to make the strongest ritual a sheep working with fate can create

So imagine you're Narinder, The One Who Waits, just chillin in the After waiting for the Liberator with your two bored guardians, and then the ground around you just lights up. Aym and Baal panic and rush over and then they're all three pulled through the summoning circle, the chains crashing to the ground.... alongside the red crown :)

And then three cats, all average looking except for Nari's third eye, just tumble into the old Temple of Death and. Well. They have no clue who they are, where they are, or anything.

And then Lamb (sans the friend/sibling who will likely die giving the three cats and Lamb a chance to escape being chased) goes on a journey to fight the Bishops with three amnesiac cats on their side, and the Bishops absolutely freak when they see Narinder-

But Narinder has no idea who they are at all.

Meanwhile the red crown is still in the After....

#cult of the lamb #I have too many ideas thanks #I'm just imagining Lamb getting caught and taken to the executioner's block so that the prophecy can be ended before it begins #and then Narinder + the twins swoop in to save them #anyway. I am thinking thoughts #Lamb and Narinder building the cult together with Lamb unsure which of the three cats is TOWW (all depictions of him have long been lost)#but with the Bishops already defeated they just want to live a peaceful life....... unaware that the After is going to shit #bc the crown doesn't have its god hfgjkd

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karuuhnia · 9 months

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Even after writing a huge essay, I still can't stop thinking about Good Omens. I had to draw things to cope with my emotions. :')

I hope you enjoy this sketch dump. Thoughts and explanations under the cut if you're interested.

__________________ Please do not alter, repost/reupload or redistribute my artwork anywhere! (Reblogging is perfectly fine, of course.)

Angel Crowley has been such a blessing, I just had to draw him. David Tennant is really great at staring in awe at a greenscreen the vast universe, isn't he?

By contrast I also drew warrior Aziraphale in the uniform we see in Season 1. Maybe this could have taken place during the often alluded Great War? I just wanted to draw Aziraphale wielding the flaming sword.

Bildad the Shuhite, my beloved! ❤️ Such a great and meaningful minisode!

Okay, I hope this is not what Season 3 will turn out to be, but I couldn't help but draw Supreme Archangel Aziraphale in the cold, grey suit with a stern and unsympathetic face, just like the rest of the archangels.

Next are just some face studies. :) Aziraphale is so soft and round, he's a pain to draw lmao. Crowley on the other hand is such a scrawny lad, you can see every bone! I love drawing his face!

Here, have some fluff. This is how I want to see them at the end of Season 3. Happy, together, no more barriers between them. I don't really care what (if any) label they give each other (a team of the two of them, lovers, soul mates, partners, a couple) in the end as long as they finally start opening up to each other, talk and work their issues out, so they can spend the rest of their existence together.

(The last picture is just a sweet scene I wanted to draw, think nothing of it. Of course Crowley has a ring too (hidden in the Bentley), but he couldn't summon up the courage to propose until Aziraphale beat him to it.)

#good omens #good omens 2 #aziraphale #crowley #good omens 2 spoilers #karuuhnia draws #((I almost had a breakdown because at one point my file corrupted and I thought I had lost all 5 days of drawings #But thank God Clip Studio made back-up files so I “only” lost ~3 hours of progress))

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ctrl-lupin · 1 month

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Yes, I would be very interested hearing your head canon (@tim-ribbert-56) (in response to this post)

I have decided for my personal entertainment that Clarisse de Cagliostro is related to Lupin III, and here's why.

-pulls out Arsène Lupin's Wikipedia page-

In the novel La Comtesse de Cagliostro, a young Arsène Lupin (at the time going by the name Raoul d'Andrésy) was courting Clarisse d'Etigues, a young lady of a well-to-do family, and trying to win her hand, despite her father's disapproval.

Throughout the course of the novel, Lupin meets and falls in love with Joséphine Balsamo, aka the Countess of Cagliostro, and abandons Clarisse in favour of her. To clarify, Joséphine is not actually countess of anything, she is (or claims to be) a descendant of Giuseppe Balsamo aka the Count of Cagliostro (who was also count of jack shit), a famous conman from the 18th century.

Shenanigans ensue, which I will not go into in details on, but oh my god I am insane about Raoul and Joséphine, I want to dissect them and study them under a microscope. It turns out Joséphine aka Cagliostro is evil as fuck, Raoul/Lupin realizes that and goes back to Clarisse (whom he had previously abandoned like an old sock, I fucking hate this guy), marries her, and a few years later has her kid.

Unfortunately Clarisse dies in childbirth, and Joséphine, who was still around and very very pissed at Lupin (and jealous as hell of Clarisse whom, may I mention, had never personally antagonized her in any way whatsoever, Joséphine is just fucking bonkers). Joséphine also kidnaps Lupin and Clarisse's son, Jean, and raises him as her own son. (I have not yet read the following novel The revenge of Cagliostro so I don't really know what Jean's deal is, I just know he's an antagonist).

The following is my headcanon, based on these events. In the universe of Lupin III, Joséphine Balsamo was actually countess of the small kingdom of Cagliostro (maybe Giuseppe was count, maybe he conned his way into becoming count, maybe he bought the land and built a fake kingdom with a fake history, who knows).

After the events of The revenge of Cagliostro, Jean settles down in the country of Cagliostro, gets married, has a child, and that child will later have a daughter of their own, who they name Clarisse, after their late grandmother. Clarisse de Cagliostro, of Lupin III: The Castle of Cagliostro fame, would thus be the great-grand-daughter of Arsène Lupin, making her Lupin III's cousin/niece/whatever you call this specific degree of separation.

I am choosing to make Clarisse de Cagliostro a great-granddaughter of Arsène Lupin, rather than a granddaughter, because Arsène Lupin was very young when the events I described unfolded: he is 20 years old when he meets Clarisse d'Etigues and the whole Cagliostro debacle happens, and 25 by the time Jean is born. I'm assuming he had Lupin II much later in his life. So Jean and Lupin II (half-brothers) would have a significant difference in age, and so Jean's hypothetical child (grandchild of Arsène Lupin, so of the same generation of Lupin III) would be much older than Lupin III. Clarisse de Cagliostro is younger than him, maybe around the same age if you stretch it, so she's have to be a great-grandchild.

Now I need to read The revenge of Cagliostro and study Arsène Lupin's wikipedia page in more detail to determine when exactly Lupin II was born and who his mother was. And also where Albert's family branched out, because the fact that he's called D'Andrésy should theoretically place him as a descendant of Arsène Lupin's mother but not of Arsène Lupin himself; but Jean was also going by that last name, so who fucking knows.

No I am not insane I promise, I am just a gigantic nerd.

#i have very mixed feelings about Papy Lupin Original Flavour #cuz you see in the first books he was pretty much like his grandson #a charming little bastard; smug as hell but also charming enough to make up for it #like. an ego the size of the eiffel tower but it's highly deserved #if he robbed me i would just thank him #you wanna punch him in the face but like. lovingly #then around The Hollow Needle he started acting weird #and after that his ego grew into a god complex the size of the eiffel tower and he just lost all the charm #like. just a huge dick honestly.#i thought that was a logical evolution after (SPOILER FOR THE HOLLOW NEEDLE) his wife got brutally murdered in front of his eyes #mere HOURS after they got married and he gave up his whole career as a thief for her #which would be an understandable evolution #but no he's also retroactively an asshole in The Countess of Cagliostro which is a prequel #i guess leblanc just decided 'lupin's a dick now'#which sucks #but on the other hand it's very funny to kinda hate-read The Countess of Cagliostro #i was honestly rooting for Joséphine for most of the book #she is fucking insane which is exactly what raoul/lupin deserve #you know that Mountain Goats song 'no children' ?#'hand in unloveable hand; i hope you die i hope with both die'#or that post that says 'i don't ship them they're too toxic / well i hope they kill each other mid-fuck'#well that's me with them #just reading on to see how many more life-ruining decisions raoul can bodily throw himself at #also leblanc did joséphine dirty!!!!!!!!#LET MY GIRL BE EVIL FOR GOD'S SAKE #none of that 'her fragile feminine nature' and fainting after murdering someone because deep down she can't bear her own cruelty #what the fuck #let her be genuinely unhinged!! let her bash raoul's head in with a meat hammer!!!!#(yes that is something that she tried to do)#anyway. justice for Joséphine Balsamo. god forbid women do anything

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silverskye13 · 2 years

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Equality. Every knight holds human equality as an unwavering truth. You are better than no one, and no one is better than you.

It is a common misconception that, for a knight to be chivalrous, they must also be a genuinely nice and kind person. In reality, the Code of Chivalry in its many forms has only ever dictated that one must be principled, dutifully upholding the precepts of the code that is passed down to them. While that code does at times demand a certain amount of gracious decorum, it does not necessarily dictate you be pleasant to be around. Pleasantness is a measure of personalities, the world one is raised in, the commonality of certain cultural norms. It has very little to do with being a chivalrous knight. Thus, Helsknight takes it quite personally when he and Wels first meet, and Wels is of the clear and obvious impression that he is the better knight between the two of them. He is not. But the smugness that fills Helsknight's chest when their rap battle ends, a smugness that doesn't belong to Helsknight himself, its telling of what his other half thinks of him. Wels watches him with a feeling of superiority, because I protect something precious, a purveyor of light, I stand above you. Helsknight retreats back to his own dimension, absolutely seething. He had expected more of a man who claimed to be his equal.

Courage. Anything that is given light must endure burning. A knight must never recoil before their enemy, and shall constitute themselves the defender of the weak.

Helsknight is not a fearful man. Not since he first took the mantle of knight, and made war against the injustices of the Hels dimension, and determined himself to become one man of greatness among thousands. Every victory, every triumph, was clawed from the unyielding jaws of a dimension made at every turn to be cruel and difficult. Helsknight had survived a lot in his life, and he bore the scars from his struggles with pride. His counterpart was a soft and shameful child by comparison. He had his moments of valor, sure; slaying withers and end dragons, the latter with a pack of his slipshod peers all bumbling around the End. But the longer the link between their minds, their personhoods, stayed in place, the more Wels's fragile disposition inflicted itself on Helsknight.

Helsknight found himself having a nightmare. A foreign time. A foreign place. A foreign world ending. Cracks shattered themselves through a moon too close. Fire burned an atmosphere meant to hold clouds and gentle sunlight. Builds made with time and care crumbled beneath the merciless impact of falling debris. Voices screamed.

Wels! Wels where are you? I'm trapped! Help!

Wels? Where are you buddy? Weren't we supposed to stave out the End together? Please, I can't be alone anymore.

Someone help! Anyone! I can't - I don't want to die here.

Coughs wrench from smothered throats, suffocating on a world consumed by fire and falling. And in this nightmare, Wels sits in a shuttle high above the danger, watching as the world burns. The coward that saved himself.

Wels awakes from his nightmare shaking, grieving. He weeps quietly to himself, wallowing in the misery of his decisions.

"Pitiful," Helsknight tells him, unable to hide his disgust. Wels hears him, flinches against the harshness of his voice, but refuses to look for his shape in the shadows of the room. "If it had been me, I would have saved them. I would have at least had the courage to try."

Tenacity. You shall not recoil before your enemy, nor allow his escape. A knight will make war against his enemy without cessation, and without mercy.

"Helsknight." Wels commands him, and Helsknight finds himself yanked by the thread that connects their souls from his world into the world of his counterpart. It is a jarring sensation, but one he is slowly growing used to. Helsknight isn't sure what he expects to find when he arrives in Hermitcraft, but a distant island in the End is far from anything he might have considered. It is a lonely rock in space, isolated from the larger islands floating in the black expanse around it. Helsknight notes with knowing certainty, it is just big enough for a battle.

"I'm tired of your mind games, Hels," Wels tells him accusingly, like its his fault his counterpart is falling to his own missteps at all times.

“You say that like you intend to do something about it.” Helsknight levels back coolly. There is a clash of emotionality between them. In Helsknight simmers something like elation, the thrill before a coming fight. He feels from his counterpart only grim determination. Finally, it seems, Wels is donning the trappings of a respectable knight. It’s a façade, but one Helsknight can actually pretend to respect.

“One fight,” Wels says. “If I win, you leave me in peace.”

“You won’t win,” Helsknight responds, but he draws his sword regardless. “To what end do we announce a victory?”

Wels hesitates. Helsknight smirks. “Are you scared to fight to the death?”

“I don’t think it’s necessary.”

“To what end, then?”

There is a considerable pause. Finally, Wels draws his sword. “Have it your way.”

There is humor in the fact that Wels thinks he has a choice. They engage cautiously. Helsknight takes his time, feeling out his counterpart. Their swords meet with hesitance, each gauging the others’ strength, making the measure of their skills. Helsknight is well aware Wels has never slain a knight before. He counts that as his advantage. Their swords ring, and Helsknight is the first to approach the battle with fervor, with a pair of swings that bear the full weight of his strength. Wels parries one and redirects another, using the momentum to slam his shield into Helsknight’s chest. The two stumble back away from each other, pause, and engage again.

A fight is never meant to be long. All it does is inflict exhaustion. Helsknight aims to fell his counterpart in three engagements. The second engagement has lost all trepidation. Helsknight’s blade sings, and the ring of metal on metal is exhilarating as it hits. They’re heavy strikes, all momentum, and Wels’s shield is left notched in two places. A final stroke slips past his defense and lands heavy on Wels’s shoulder, but the guard on his armor catches the blade before it can sink into the soft flesh of his neck. From the frustration Helsknight feels second-hand, and the teeth-gritted grunt, he figures the hit will leave a sizeable bruise. He continues his barrage, and Wels is forced to retreat step after step, his own blade staggering to meet and deflect the sword strokes.

Discipline. In the field of battle, as in all things, you will perform as you practice. The better a knight prepares, the less willing he will be to surrender.

The tide of battle turns as it always does. Helsknight is on the verge of tasting victory one moment, and in the next Wels’s blade has snaked down to the vulnerable place where his boot ends at the back of his knee. Helsknight bites back a pained grunt, and is unnerved by the red that comes away on his counterpart’s blade. It is thin cut, a nonlethal wound, but it hurts to lean his weight on it. His footwork is noticeably clumsier, and the blood running down the back of his leg slicks the inside of his boot. Suddenly Helsknight finds himself on the defensive, retreating before a flurry of strikes more speed and precision than strength. Wels is a creature of lightning, and Helsknight measures his movements in flashes of light that rain in all directions. He meets them as best he can, but winces when a well-timed jab punches his ribs. His armor stops the blade in its tracks, but there’s an aching bruise adding to his collection of harms. Helsknight stumbles back, his breath wheezing through winded lungs, and he dodges to the side from a two-handed stroke from Wels, a killing stroke if it had connected. Instead, Wels is left over-extended, and Helsknight kicks him hard in the side, sending him sprawling towards the edge of the platform.

Helsknight is given a choice. He could rush in and try and kill Wels before he can recover. Kick him off the edge of the platform maybe, or impale him on the blade. He decides neither of these are honorable enough deaths for a fight between two knights. While Wels stumbles to his feet, Helsknight tears off the edge of his tunic and ties a quick bandage around his knee. It won’t help much, but it will at least keep him from bleeding all over the place. Confusion, not his own, runs rampant in the back of his mind. He doesn’t explain himself; he doesn’t owe his counterpart an explanation. He simply resets his stance for their final engagement.

Death. Life is a long series of farewells; only the circumstances should surprise us. A knight does not fear death.

They engage again, and Wels is sloppy in his haste to end the fight. The End rings with the sound of metal on metal, punctuated by the grunts and cries of pain as a strike hits true. Helsknight grazes Wels’s side, finally drawing his first blood. He breaks his counterpart’s nose with a well-timed shield-bash to the face. His own rib breaks when Wels jabs him powerfully one more time with his sword. The links in Helsknight’s armor weaken, and he knows another stab will find that blade seated somewhere in his ribcage, pinning his muscles and organs together. He becomes cautious, retreating more from Wels’s sword strokes than redirecting them, aware of his weakness. It blinds him to the edge of the platform. Helsknight takes one more step back-

A lot of things happen in rapid succession.

He recognizes first that he is falling, that the whole of the void has opened up to swallow him, and he is dropping towards its jaws. Terror like nothing he has ever felt before swells in his chest. By all rationality it shouldn’t. Theirs is a world where death is only a minor inconvenience. But the void is dark. And consuming. And it reaches. And it hungers.

Then Wels’ hand grabs his, and Helsknight is brought to a jarring halt over the darkness. They cling to each other, a lifeline of sinew and bone, straining, and at some points breaking. It is in the lurch in Helsknight’s shoulder, the burn that tells him a muscle there isn’t quite right after the pull. It is in the quiet crack of Wels’ fingers as their gauntlets close on each other like vices. It is in the wince on Wels’ face as he is overwhelmed by the feeling of Helsknight’s panic.

“It’s alright,” Wels calls to him. “I won’t let go.”

And he doesn’t. He groans from the effort as he pulls, but he can’t drag Helsknight more than a few inches away from the dark. He’s too heavy, and Wels is too tired from the fight before, and Helsknight is too far away from anything close to a ledge to help himself. Wels fumbles and curses, and tries once more in vain to pull Helsknight up, and once more finds himself unable.

Helsknight, terrified, sees his fate approaching as his grip on Wels begins to slip.

A feeling of absolute calm settles over him then, a feeling that isn’t his own. Peace, gentle, consuming, from Wels. There is a look of resignation on his features. “I can’t save you, I’m sorry.”

Helsknight expects him to let go. He doesn’t. Instead, Welsknight falls with him, and as he falls, that peace falls with him, battling away Helsknight’s terror for as long as the both of them are conscious.

Helsknight respawns in his dimension, whole. He has lost a good suit of armor, one of his best swords, and his favorite shield. He does not visit Welsknight for a long while.

#the barking writer #helsknight #Through Hels or High Water #welsknight #answering asks #anonymous #[sweats profusely] i submitted it wrong and forgot i deleted the main document from my computer #you can imagine my panic when i realized after i deleted the bad submission that id lost..... everything #thank god for the copy/paste clipboard #uhhhhh anyway! this turned out way more intense than i thought it would!!#have some angst i guess???#also yes those are tennants of chivalry #theyre like cherry picked from several different lists some more modern than others

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