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shewhowillnotbenamed1 · 3 years

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I wanted to get this ‘Valentine’s Day’ piece out, even though it’s massively, supremely late. 😭It’s part of a longer piece (because I couldn’t stop writing it😶) and I’m still not sure whether or not it’s not terrible.😖

prompt list

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This couldn't be right.

Damian almost did a double take, his cool smirk withering when he glanced up, transfixed by the sleek storefront at the cross streets where he stood. Why on earth would Raven be in a place like this?

The building towered above the tottering sea of gray, black and blue below. And the mannequins in the display lorded over their dominion, propped loftily on their perches, arms and legs of impractical proportions, stilted at absurd angles.

And why would she summon him here?

His trousers began to buzz audibly and the shifting crowd of passersby jostled him closer to the glass. Damian delivered the faceless caricatures of the female form a final foreboding glare, before he reached down to free the device vibrating in his pocket. New Message. Raven. Apparently, it was urgent. He tapped the speech bubble icon with a fingertip and his jaw went slack.

I Need You.

The three words seemed etched into the surface of the screen. And they were more than enough to get him to take a deep breath and grasp the curved door handle, his jaw set, and wingtips marching determinedly onward.

The atmosphere inside the store was even more unexpected than the outside. When translated, the pounding music and low lighting read as more nightclub than boutique. It was completely impractical in Damian's view—how could anyone locate a price tag, let alone see the item they were intending to purchase? Although, after a few minutes of skulking around in the dark, he could see how the implementation of such a design was advantageous. With stealthiness like his, he wasn't in danger of being accosted by overly helpful employees hungry for commissions, before he located the heading of a dramatic script that read Dressing Rooms, and turned underneath it.

Down the row each stall had a flood light stationed above it, but only one appeared to be presently occupied: the corner room at the farthest end of the hall. And as he got closer he noticed it also appeared to be the largest. Damian glanced behind him and rapped on the door with a knuckle. And just as he began to wonder if he'd needed some sort of special knock or password prepared, the lock glowed black and unlatched itself.

"I'm here." The door creaked open and the floor groaned under his solid weight. Damian turned swiftly to shut it, growing steadily concerned.

"So what is it? What's the—big emergency..." He started, but his tongue began to feel heavy and leaden inside his rapidly drying mouth. And his eardrums began to beat violently until they matched the thumping of his maddened heart.

Red.

Blood red.

Burning. Blinding. Blazing.

In the carpet, the walls, the curtains, the chandelier.

It was everywhere—even in the deafening pounding hammering away at his head.

Thundering images suspended before him, going in and out of focus. They were searing his eyes, blearing his vision. In sinful shapes marred over pale flesh, it was red repeating over and over. Criss-crossing crimson. Damian had to dig his fingernails into his palms to ground himself with the tangibility of a familiar sensation.

And suddenly he realized that all the times before were incomparable, this was what it meant to be blindsided by a breath-taking blow. This was what it meant to receive a rush of blood to the head…

…or a rush of blood to the—

"I'm glad you came so quickly."

And the silhouette of Raven turned where she sat on a velvet ottoman, leaning forward in a way that was guaranteed to diffuse away the rest of his brain's processing ability. It was all he could do not to goggle at her like some cartoon character. Tawdry and tactless. Damian inwardly cursed the merciless Goddess above as he took in the cleavage created by cups, a series of straps and bows and elastic and he didn't know what. Only that he shouldn't have been so disarmed by it—by Raven's breasts pushed up to high-heaven. Like they weren't perky enough or distracting enough in their usual sheath of simple black cotton.

His wide emerald eyes strayed downward in spite of themselves and onto shapely, stocking clad legs folded one over the other, with a lace-up heel tapping out the bass of the synth pop bleeding into the background. Raven slid to her feet seamlessly, swaying slightly to the song. She took a single step, allowing the shadows to part for her as she did so.

There was a muted click, clack, click of her heels on the carpet as she drew near. He'd never seen her in stilettos, and he stared at them through slits.

Gods, they had to be four inches at least. Their impressive height only seemed to serve to make her look even more powerful. Just about as powerful as the force rooting him to the spot.

The deep panging in Damian's chest carried on, a racehorse charging from the starting gate, galloping faster and faster, as she grew closer and closer.

Suddenly he'd become aware of the fact that it was far too warm in here for the dead of winter. Or was it simply that Raven radiated such an intense heat?

Most definitely the latter.

The garnet colored lace gracing Raven's skin was a perfect match to her chakra stone. The semi-sheer fabric of her bra offered up a playful glimpse of the darker skin of her nipples beneath. When his gaze wound down her tapering waist, it appeared that the lack of opaqueness carried over to the front of her panties. He could just make out a little shadow—a promise laying underneath a tempting, well-kept diamond shape in plum wine. And last, but certainly not least were the thigh highs trimmed by garnet lacings and affixed to a red and black garter.

Damian's throat had somehow gone even drier. He tried to swallow with great difficulty, then tugged at his turtleneck for a reprieve.

However, there would be no such alleviation for his trousers.

"There's no emergency, Damian..." Raven assured him with a tilt of her head, lilac tendrils skating across a valley between pale peaks. "You'll have to forgive me, but I had to get you here. I had to know..." She paused, folding her arms as she prepared to pose a question to him. "Tell me... what do you think...of my outfit?"

Damian froze, fingers mid-tug and blinked several times as if he'd been struck dumb.

What?

That wasn't...

There was no way...

Was that a serious request?

She was being facetious—she had to be. It was the only explanation, unless Raven was somehow messing with his mind and Damian sincerely doubted that. But how could she ask him this with such bold-faced sincerity? Even if the wooden arch behind her housed a funhouse mirror and had been reflecting distorted proportions back at her. Or was there actually some warped reality in which they weren't looking at the same picture?

Although...

If he could muster up a voice to speak he would have asked, what outfit?

Lackadaisically, she trailed a hand down her body, tugging at the cups spilled over with supple skin. "The bra—do you like the pattern?" Raven traced the gorge between the swell of her breasts. "It's tulle and...French lace," she confirmed, squeezing the scant, semi-sheer embroidery molded to her chest. And Damian grimaced as though in physical pain.

"No?" she assessed, seemingly marking off boxes on a mental checklist. Raven smoothed her hands over her hips for a moment, appearing to be lost in thought. She paced slowly, revolving a full three-hundred and sixty degrees to pause with her back to him.

"And what about..." She swept a purple curtain over the nape of her neck to glance over her shoulder and he saw—of all things—a bow below the dimples on her back, nestled into the heart-shaped curve of her ass. "My panties...?"

Damian gritted his teeth, though not before letting a sound escape, like a hiss coupled with a wince.

"Are these okay?" The soft profile of her lips pressed.

Gods, it was almost as if she were seeking to offer all of this up to him. And who needed to clarify anything when she was all wrapped up and presented? Covered in the finest cardstock wrappings in gold-flecked marble, then laced up with champagne silk ribbon to await her unravelling.

Though his own would be more likely.

Right now, he'd forsake all his names, both Wayne and Al Ghul to get her to stop. Stop slinking closer, stop speaking in that sweet, scratchy undertone, and stop directing his focus to her various attributes, more than it already was.

It would only make his growing pain more pronounced.

A pale hand dangled down and spread across a smooth, silken thigh. "My stockings, then?" Raven hummed.

Though, Damian didn't speak. He wasn't entirely certain he was still breathing. Somehow, he'd managed to remain motionless and drag his unwilling eyes toward the floor. All his carefully constructed control was necessary to keep himself calm and centered in this moment. He could do this—he had to do this. Otherwise, what was the point of all those long years of training he'd endured?

Shiny purple strands bobbed; she'd started to shake her head slowly at the stony silence from the stoic cashmere wall standing before her, as if she expected as much.

"I bet you're still wondering why I called you here." Damian heard her voice go up in the middle, which it did whenever she was apprehensive or unsure. "I wanted you here to find out what you like—exactly what you like." When he arrived, Raven was blushing a delicious pink, so by now it had to be a violent red. "I wanted to get it right because...you're the first person, or only person I've ever been intimate with in any world, dimension, or universe..." She lingered.

And once again, Damian said nothing, and she resumed speaking.

"I do know that this is something that one does traditionally." Raven paused to worry her already cherry-red bottom lip. "That couples do... Buying underwear for your significant other is supposed to be something special, particularly for this holiday."

He was a mountain, immobile, unwavering...

"Oh, I see..." Her mouth set into a line. "Perhaps, it's the fit—or is it the color...?" Raven's large amethyst eyes swept over the room and landed on her reflection. "I thought dark red was classic. I knew I shouldn't have listened to Donna. I should have gotten something in black." She dragged a distraught hand through dark purple. "It's too much...or maybe it's not enough..."

"Don't," Damian growled low. His inflection was level and gave nothing away. If Raven was surprised by the outburst, she didn't let on, instead she continued.

"I bet the old string of socialites shuffling in and out of the manor were never caught dead in skivvies that weren't Kiki de Montparnasse or at least Agent Provocateur. But this..." Raven lifted her chin toward the mirror. "It's not your taste though, is it?"

That was far more than enough.

Far more than he could stand to hear and far more than he could stand to bear.

When his eyes flew back to hers at last, they weren't steely anymore, they burned—whittling her retinas down like they were wicks on candlesticks. As if he were all but telling her he dared her to do that again, to say that again.

"It's okay. I'm glad I found out before I bought—"

"I said...don't." Damian placed his hands on her wrists and whisked her right up to his chest. And he closed his eyes. He skimmed his lips along the length of hers like it was something sacred, his mouth trembling as Raven muffled out a note denoting her surprise.

He murmured to her, "you're brilliant, deadly beautiful—an empath...and for some reason unbeknownst to me, I'm your blindspot." Damian sighed resolutely. "But Raven, can't you take pity on me? I'm still a man." One that had been barely keeping it together since he arrived, but... "And you're you, so..."

There was no way in any world, dimension, or universe that he could ever resist.

Purple eyes grew wider as he told her and lifted a finger to her chin. Then it was Damian turning the tables and tipping her mouth towards his own. And though he hungered for her, he took slow and sweet and gentle grazes. It was tortuous, but he should only have a little at a time. This was an excess of an impossibly decadent dessert, an indulgence he was undeserving of. It was like the power in his sub zero freezer had short-circuited and he had no choice but to guzzle down that buried pint of vanilla caramel gelato.

Though who could blame him for being greedy when he had all of this spread out before him? And when her ass in those panties even resembled two round, creamy spoonfuls.

To hell with it then.

Damian lunged, face forward, longing for more of her. In an instant, he was inhaling her pulse, intaking the scent of leather-bound books with aged pages and the nectar from plums she'd probably narrowly avoided dripping on them. He dipped his tongue along the hollow of her collarbone as if he sought to test this.

"Mmm, that's nice."

"Nice?" Damian scoffed, his eyes on hers. "That's not what I was going for. Surely you didn't wear this because you wanted me to be nice." At the present, he wanted nothing more than to rip the tiny pieces of lace into twos, but Raven had selected them specifically for him. So he would continue to be patient and continue to savor this.

Let the pieces of fabric hold up for as long as he could hold out.

"Wait a moment," Raven gasped, quickly clutching his arm. "So your present...?"

"Present? Tch..." Damian's lip curled under his front teeth and he let out a piercing click. "If you're seriously considering getting me a present..." His palms glided down her chest and he gathered a scoop of softness in either hand. "Then these are perfect," he whispered in her ear.

And then Damian's mouth pushed back into hers and he was kissing her in ways that would make it impossible to return this lingerie after trying it on. He nipped urgently to gain entrance to her castle, then trapped her lip between his teeth like it was a drawbridge, at last releasing her tongue to collide with his own. All the while, his thumbs were sliding over her nipples, which puckered and pointed at his touch. He pushed up the cups of her bra for better access, head inclined towards his goal, soon to be met by a full mouth.

Each brush of his lips on Raven's chest made her fingers clench further and further into his shirt like it was a life preserver, and she was in danger of losing herself to the depths.

And after all, wasn't this the answer that she'd wanted from this—that she needed from him?

A chance to lose herself.

To stand in a dressing room in his arms, moaning his name like a breathy spell, her body bending until her back was arched under the avid swipes of tongue. He tugged her nipples between his teeth and they reddened, their response a glowing rave.

Yes.

Raven's eyelids squeezed, her pink face contorting in pleasure while Damian enjoyed the full weight of her breasts in his hands. He continued polishing the plush, pink rings. Left then right—until they were glistening.

"Gods, Damian..." Raven groaned. "Just—"

Just as sudden, there was a wet noise, a slip of suction. Damian had released a rosy nipple, taking note of Raven's expression. Hungry and dazed, and all his doing. Whether unconsciously or not, she pressed her legs together, clenching them as she watched Damian slip off the left sleeve of his coat and let it crumple to the ground in a heap.

The glaze of her gaze, her diaphragm's continuous rise and fall, her fingers digging into his arm, she needed this.

So why deny her?

"Yes, these are beautiful..." He whispered as he admired his handiwork under the chandelier light. The way the red nips and bites were like Damian Wayne watermarks upon the pale flesh. "But perhaps..." Damian's hands glided freely down the small of her back, just over the hill of her ass and stroked the burgundy bow, like an X marking the spot. "This."

When Damian glanced down at Raven, she was barely biting back another mewl, and moving restlessly in his arms. "I wonder what would happen if I were to pull this bow... Raven what do you think?"

"Damian... We shouldn't..." Raven murmured, sounding somewhat apprehensive and holding the fabric at his back tightly.

"Yes, we should Raven," he rasped darkly. "Right now, I can't seem to think of a reason why not..."

"Well, there's the fact that we're in public—"

"Public," Damian repeated flatly. "What of it? The outside world ceased to exist the second I entered the door of my own little version of Narnia."

Raven's jaw had unhinged in unmasked shock and Damian supposed this was an instance to take her remaining breath away by kissing her. Yes, he'd walked through a door and suddenly he was laying eyes on his half-naked demoness dangerous in dark red. So clearly nothing else in creation mattered.

When he pulled away her lips opened and closed, while her eyes remained shut, like a thirsty traveler prematurely cut off from a longer drink. And even though it seemed her body knew the truth, a darker part of him wanted her to beg for it.

"But, that's not what I asked," he said with a hard smile that wasn't. Damian drummed a divot on her lower back. "I fear I've gotten ahead of myself again. Tell me about the bow, Raven. What happens if I pull it?" His hand jutted out, he made a motion with his fingers, in mimicry of it.

"Why ask when you know the answer?" Raven asked him, her brow rising shakily.

"I could have asked you the same earlier. But..."

"But?"

Raven bit her lip but made no motion to stop his hands from climbing onto the curve of her ass. He taunted her twice, by tugging lightly on the tulle, until at last... The bow in the back came loose, and her panties slid down her legs with ease. She secured one pale thigh tightly over the other to hide herself.

No bottoms and bra half-undone, she was nothing short of delicious.

Though that scrap of fabric had barely covered much of anything, so why bother to tease? Or hadn't that been the sole purpose of this outfit?

A devious smirk sidled onto Damian's face as he realized something: these were the exact kind of underwear that one put on simply to take off.

"I pulled the bow, Raven," he murmured almost mockingly. "Don't I at least get to see the rest of my present?"

She stared up at him through her soot colored lashes and slowly opened her thighs.

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tenthgrove · 3 years

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Yandere La Squadra- Illuso, Prosciutto, and Pesci

(Cw: Abduction, Forced Relationships, Obsessive Behavior, Murder)

Illuso

It’s probably a given that Illuso never intended to find love. For a person so proud and jealous, a romantic obsession would most likely arise out of just that- jealousy. You were a bystander, a mere distant relative of Illuso’s mark. He probably never would have even heard of you, had it not been for the party.

As Illuso watched the happy revellers from the safety of his mirror world, his efforts to observe the target were hampered by a far more appealing distraction. You. You were exactly his type, beautiful and amicable. As you spoke to your friends and family, he found himself wishing you were saying those words to him and not those worthless nobodies.

He tried to shake off his captivation, leave the room you were in to focus just on his target. But when he returned, you were talking with another man. As envy cut through his chest, he came to understand how he really felt. You were not something he could leave alone.

For months, Illuso did nothing but watch you. When he would normally go down to the bar or for a walk around town, he would head into the mirror world and watch you go through your day. He would even talk to you, secure and yet saddened in the knowledge that you wouldn’t be able to hear him.

Then one day, Illuso had a stroke of luck. Another individual vaguely in your social circle has been pinned as La Squadra’s target, and this time, Illuso is going to use it to the fullest. He goes out of his way to exaggerate the connection between you and the target, saboutaging all the usual routes the team would use to hunt them down until the only option seems to be going through you. Finally, Illuso gets permission to abduct you and take you in for interrogation. His plan is to be your saviour, to convince the team to let you go and carry you home in his arms like a knight in shining armous. Unfortunately for him, it takes all of 5 seconds of talking to you for Risotto to realise what’s really going on.

Illuso gets hauled to one side, and after getting one of the biggest dressing-downs of his life, is informed that he could have very well gotten you killed since La Squadra can’t let witnesses go. Risotto informs him that if he wants you to live, he’s going to have to keep you captive himself now. He started this mess, so he’s going to deal with it.

Illuso always intended to have a ‘normal’ relationship after the whole kidnapping stunt, but he supposes keeping you prisoner is a close second. Since he never planned for this to happen, his home is completely unprepared for holding you, and he has to keep you in the mirror world for the first few days.

Once he has a suitably secure room set up, you’re allowed to come out of the mirror world again but on the strict conditions you don’t act up. After spending days in an alternate dimension at his control, you would have to be very brave indeed to ever go against Illuso’s word.

Illuso tries to win you over with gifts. He misses the way you acted when your life was happy and is annoyed he can’t see that side of you now you’re finally together in person. Don’t be surprised if he offsets his anger by hunting down those you loved. If you had a partner before, you can be certain they’ll be first to go.

Despite this cruelty, Illuso genuinely begins to feel remorse for your sorry state. It will lead to him doing some self-reflection for the first time in his life, and he will genuinely try to be a better person around you to make you smile again.

Prosciutto

By the time Prosciutto fell for you, you had already been having a bad time of things. Trapped in Passione through no fault of your own, you were unfortunately no stranger to peril. It’s this reason that attracted Prosciutto to you in the first place.

As a standless, low-ranking newcomer to the syndicate, you were as vulnerable as they come. And yet, as Prosciutto listened to your story from someone who knew of it, he felt intrigue. You presented to him the opportunity of a project. Someone to mold.

Prosciutto sought you out a few days later. His offer was simple- a friendship and nothing more. In exchange, you would gain the company of a far more distinguished member of Passione who could teach you the unspoken rules of survival. For some weeks, this is how things were. He would teach you his skills in his spare time and talk with you afterwards. The two of you began to develop a genuine, warm bond.

That’s where the problems started, however. As Prosciutto learned more and more about your story, he began to question his original plan. You didn’t belong here, there were no two ways about it. You may be showing potential in your training, yes, but would you ever truly belong in such a syndicate? Prosciutto didn’t think so, and he couldn’t bear to imagine you spending the rest of your life this way. Second, there was the issue of his romantic feelings. They were getting hard to ignore.

So, Prosciutto comes up with a proposition for you. Disappear off the map entirely. Prosciutto will handle everything, and you can live comfortably with him in hiding for however long is necessary. He also pleads with you to become his lover.

However, you just can’t find it in you to trust him on something so important. You turn him down, thank him for all he’s done for you, and leave. Prosciutto is heartbroken. He can’t let you continue like this, especially not without his protection, and so, he’s going to do something he knows you’ll hate him for. Prosciutto breaks into your hideout and murders your entire team, planting evidence to look like a rival gang did it. As you cower in the corner, tears streaking down your face, Prosciutto whispers an apology and presses a chloroform rag to your nose and mouth. He takes you to his house.

The next day, Prosciutto is holding you against his chest as you cry, even as you hurl frightened profanities about how much you hate him for doing this. He’ll take it all, and remind you calmly everything he does is for your sake. He promises again and again that he loves you, unconditionally.

Prosciutto tries to make things as bearable as possible for you to make up for keeping you captive. He buys you anything you want on a whim, and looks after you when you refuse to look after yourself. He encourages you to find new interests, since your life is no longer dominated by Passione’s orders and you can be yourself again.

As much as he wishes, he can’t let you leave the house, except on closely supervised trips in the dead of night where you can’t possibly be spotted. If Passione were to find out you were alive all along, they would surely have both of you killed. Prosciutto dreams that one day, perhaps when La Squadra has the status they deserve, he can give you the freedom he owes you. Maybe then you will find it in you to forgive his betrayal.

Pesci

Pesci is certainly not the type to resort to the extreme actions of a yandere unless he felt truly desperate. It’s for this reason he becomes a yandere for someone he has an existing relationship with.

Pesci didn’t think he would find love at all now he worked for Passione, especially not a squad as feared as La Squadra. And yet the stars aligned and brought him you- a wonderful, kind-hearted civilian he met by chance and began a steady, loving relationship with. Several months in, the pair of you couldn’t be happier together.

There was just one thorn in this relationship threatening to bring it all down: you didn’t know that Pesci was a mobster. He couldn’t bear to tell you. Would you hate him? Fear him? He didn’t want to even think about it. All he could do was hold you tight and pray, pray to whatever would listen, that the two of you could be like this forever.

What made Pesci’s worst dreams true was a simple, awful coincidence. You were out shopping alone, when, across the street, you spotted your boyfriend headed in the other direction. Pleasently surprised, you chased after him and called out, but he didn’t seem to hear you. Not giving up, you followed him into an alleyway, and what you saw turned your stomach.

There on the ground was the writhing body of an injured man. Above him, stood Pesci and a stranger, a tall, well-dressed blond man who spoke to your boyfriend with an air of authority. As you watched in horror, the stranger took a knife to the injured man’s throat while your boyfriend watched emotionlessly. You turned tail and ran.

By the time Pesci gets home, you have already gone through everything. His phone, his diary, his checkbook. You know everything, and you can’t stand to be a part of it any longer. With tearful eyes, you announce you are leaving. If he doesn’t want to be turned in to the police, he won’t try and stop you.

Pesci panics. He can’t let you go! Can’t! You’re the first person who has ever loved him! In a brief act of fear, Pesci hits you over the head to stop you leaving. He’s knocked you unconscious.

Dismayed at his actions and cradling your body in his arms, Pesci breaks down crying. But then he makes a decision. He regrets that it came down to hurting you, but he isn’t letting you go. He isn’t letting his love leave him. When you wake up, you’re in Pesci’s apartment, tied to the bed with a gag in your mouth. As much as it hurts him to hear your distress, Pesci forces himself to hold to his promise. He isn’t letting himself lose you.

Pesci comforts you as best he can, but knows it could be a long time before you trust him again. He explains his actions whenever you show signs of sadness, and tries to tell stories of his team that will paint them in a better light. He knows deep down, however, that what he’s done is unforgiveable.

Should the day come when your bitterness finally disappears, and Pesci can trust you full-heartedly not to tell anyone of what he really does, he is more than happy to return all your normal freedoms. You can even return to living part-time in your old house, if it helps. Just remember, should you ever abuse this freedom to try and flee, don’t think he won’t hunt you down. Pesci swore to himself he wouldn’t let himself lose you, and that promise doesn’t end now your original abduction is over.

#la squadra di esecuzione #la squadra #la squadra x reader #illuso #illuso x reader #prosciutto #prosciutto x reader #pesci #pesci x reader #yandere cw

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chunhua-s · 3 years

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Tendou in an enemies to lovers situation 🥺

wew chile, eye— this was longer than i originally planned and that’s due in part to me switching from writing on mobile and my bad word vomit tendencies said ✨start the cameras✨ i originally had a bit of trouble coming up with the solid plot itself while i was losing myself on concepts (nothing new :D just my regular clown shit y’know?) and my sweet goddess @bootylikepeachy was there to tickle my braincells with this “got paired together with your enemy for a class assignment” idea!! bb thank you for brainrotting with me on this, honestly 🥺💖 i dunno if i could have made a final decision if it weren’t for you and your sexy ass brain. i decided leave the ending a bit open?? one to prevent myself from going over 5k words (cause wow, i really hit the slow burn on this one) and two because i kinda like the ambiguity of their relationship after the reader comes to her turning point. since it’s an enemies to lovers type of scenario, i figured it would be better to let things kind of trickle off instead of having it all happen on the same day?? or so it doesn’t feel too rushed or force and i really hope i was successful in doing it justice. i hope you guys will have as much fun reading this as i did writing it!! let me know your thoughts, okay? and as always, thank you for reading!!

SUNSET AND MIDNIGNT ➽ SATORI TENDOU x READER

genre: fluff, slowburn

au: enemies to lovers

warnings: uhhh slowburn? word vomit, ramblings..... that’s about it

tendou is the fall from an ocean cliff. he’s the feeling of the wind sweeping past your body, of your breath disappearing from your lungs and vanishing on the whisps of a blue sky. he’s the dread that wraps around your heart like a vine, the heavy rock that drags you closer and closer to a dive you can’t remember taking. and you, with your heart racing against your ribs so hard that it scars itself with blue and purple bruises, you’re terrified. you’re terrified of heights, of blue waters that run to the deepest parts of the earth and what they don’t show to you. you’re afraid of the heat that comes from a blazing fire and the embers that fly from it on red hazes. it’s the fear of that unpredictability that keeps you away, the fear of being burned and left for dead that leaves you feeling as if you’re walking on egg shells around him.

to you, he’s a variable that you can’t ever be prepared for. a step added to a dance you’d already learned by heart, he messes up your rhythm and throws off your tempo until the melody becomes something you can’t recognize anymore. he leaves you guessing about what comes next — it’s like a game of roulette that he’d dragged you into by a thin chord, wrapped so tightly around your throat that it makes it hard for you to breathe. you hate the feeling of it, hate the way he so easily turned your world on its head and cast the familiarity of monochrome into a scenery of blinding colour.

you’re pouting, a frown etched across your lips as you methodically stir over your pot, head cocked to the side and one hand resting akimbo on your hip. it’d been well over 30 minutes since you’d started boiling the ingredients over a low flame, and you were beginning to tire from stirring constantly; your arm ached and your shoulders were beginning to feel stiff as you tried rolling them to relieve some of the tension. frustration makes a loud groan slip from your lips as you throw your head back. normally, you’d consider yourself a patient person, yet that very same patience was beginning to run as thin as the liquid that should have been thickening by now. you couldn’t understand why it was taking so long, however. you’d done everything by the book! mixed each ingredient in the order that it’d said to, set the flame on the right level, measured everything correctly, so what was wrong?

you hear a snort come from somewhere behind you, but you don’t turn yourself to look at the red-headed male who sits comfortably atop the other side of your counter, well intent to ignoring him. you had neither the time nor the energy to entertain him right now, but your companion didn’t seem to understand that from the cold shoulder you’d been giving him ever since you two began working on your project together.

“you know you don’t have to keep stirring it, right?” tendou hums between bites of chocolate that slightly muffle his words. you don’t see the way his eyes close and his smile widens on delight for the sweet flavour that melts on his tongue. “you can leave it for about a minute before you have to check up on it again.”

you stubbornly roll your eyes, a huff coming from under your breath that disturbs the strand of hair dangling in front of your face. “that’s not what the book says.” your voice comes out evenly, though there’s nothing you do to cut the edge from your tone as you sigh immediately after. the frown on your lips only deepens with the next few seconds that pass you by.

“and that book was released in 2015.”

it’s invasive in its arrival, the question of why that spits on bitterness and undiluted anger. why were you so unlucky to have been paired up with the one person you couldn’t bear to be around? he was everything that dug under your skin, the symbol of chaos in a place where you’d rather solace and routine. he stands on the opposite end of the colour spectrum; where your life molds with deep purples and blues of a dark midnight, he’s the flaming oranges and reds of a burning sunset. your worlds meet on a collision, a burst of light that would consume entire dimensions and leave nothing but bones and ashes in its wake.

there’s a pettiness in your hatred for him, a one-sided scorn that bears its fangs on dark poisons that trip like ink. it tells its tale of irrationality in your law of reason, and, you consider, perhaps that was why you hated tendou. perhaps it was the way his voice could so easily insight the burning taste of anger and annoyance on the back of your tongue, where it forms on a large ball that stops inside your throat and makes it hard to breathe without feeling as if you would implode. it’s something you can’t understand, but you despise the feeling it leaves you with when your eyes meet his.

hot, as if you’d been cast into the open arms of hell.

“well,” you force behind gritted teeth, hearing the noise of them grinding in the back of your head. “i’m gonna stick to what the book says until it gets revised.”

there’s absolutely no reason for you to be so insistent on something that’s clearly not working, you know that. you’re sure tendou is thinking the same, if the long, drawn out sigh he lets out is anything to go by. it isn’t difficult to imagine his expression, lips pursed together, brows furrowed as his narrowed eyes burn holes into your skin. you’re not sure what exactly is pushing you to be so stubborn, but you blindly let it control your thoughts; you run on impulse and immature decisions that have no place in your life.

a silence blends with the sounds of your bubbling pot when he doesn’t respond, insighting an urge to glance around and see why he’d suddenly stopped talking that you force away from your mind. the quiet would give you some semblance of peace, you consider decisively: if he’s decided he would no longer disturb you with pointless musings, then what reason would you have to complain?

there’s a touch on your shoulder that causes your heart to latch inside your throat and rushes on uneven beats of a two-second fright that has you freezing on yourself. on instinct, your body turns to meet red eyes and a bemused grin as tendou’s fingers wrap around your wrist, catching the hand that held the mixing spatula you’d been using in your pot. “relax, will you?” he murmurs, a chuckle on his breath — the taste of his mint breath clouds your mind like a ghostly fragrance — as he pries the instrument from between your clenched fist. with narrowed eyes and your guard put up on a weak barrier, you watch closely as he gently sets the spatula against the counter before he finally releases your arm; it falls lifelessly to your side while the feeling of being burned slowly spreads across your skin. “just trust me on this.”

there’s a hidden promise on his voice, a teasing grin that pulls at his lips and leaves your curiosity ignited on hesitance and uncertainty. you glance at your still bubbling pot, though your gaze isn’t allowed to linger for long as tendou shoves his face into your line of sight with a light chime of “ah-ah-ah.” it was as if he was scolding a child, the thought quickly comes and goes before you can dwell on it — there’s not much chance for you to think about it when tendou’s steering you to your island counter by your shoulders. “sit down for a sec, alright?”

a scowl forms on your lips as he shoves you down into a seat, and you open your mouth to protest when you’re suddenly pacified by the sweet taste on your tongue. slowly, you begin chewing, letting the confusion you feel be washed away by the quickly melting chocolate that fills you with a sense of appreciation.

“better?”

it’s reluctant, but you give the red haired boy a nod and a small smile, all which he returns with his familiar grin. “i set a timer for one minute,” he informs you, lifting his phone screen to show the seconds counting down from 50. his actions are carefree and relaxed, with his arm resting on the edge of the chair and one of his legs folded beneath him, red hair tousled and flopping over his forehead just like he wears it on campus. he’s attractive, you won’t deny, though you wouldn’t let yourself ever say it out loud. helplessly, you sigh, your shoulders dropping to release the tension from standing for so long and you lift a hand to sheepishly run over your neck as you avoid his gaze.

“fine…”

tendou’s smile widens as soon as you relent, a pleased hum leaves him as he further leans back into the chair. “so,” he begins on a cheerful tone, and your eyes curiously watch him as he opens conversation. “what’re your plans after you finish the course?”

a short moment passes you by where you glance away from him, eyes drifting to the pot on your worry. was it really okay to leave it alone? “uh,” you mutter out on your distracted tone before you center yourself. you take a deep breath and let it out on a soft puff that has your cheeks pushing out slightly before you give your answer. “i wanna open up a coffeeshop.”

“oh?” when you meet tendou’s gaze, there’s a spark of interest in them, a sheen of gold that lights vermillion red on the afternoon sun. it causes you to become self-conscious suddenly, your hands tangle together in your lap as you avert your eyes almost as quickly as they’d met his.

“yeah,” you affirm softly. “i’ve always thought that it’d be nice, you know? and i’d be able to relax in a place like that.”

another hum comes from the man next to you, a low sound that dwells on pondering as he takes in your response. “you do seem like the kind of person who would work in a coffeeshop.” he muses, and his word leaves your mind on pause as the alarm goes off, the soft ringing of a song you don’t know disrupting your thoughts and prompting you to stand up. however, there’s a hand on your shoulder that hurriedly pushes you down before you’re at your full height. “no,no—” tendou urges you, “i’ll do it, you just sit there and rest.”

you’re not given the chance to argue as he breezily saunters over to your stove, reaching for the spatula while humming that same song from his alarm. it’s not one you’ve heard before, and it’s another thing that leaves you curious as you watch him stir over the bubbling liquid. you notice the way he holds his hand at a weird angle that leaves his elbow jutting out, the way his tall frame has to hunch as if to see the contents better. doesn’t he wear glasses? you’re lost on the thought as you try and recall whether or not you’d seen him wear a pair before. when he turns back to you, his smile is wide and triumphant, a show of all teeth as he moves himself to the side and just barely tilts the pot with his free hand. “would’ja look at that?” he sings, a telling smugness to his tone as he looks at you. you have to lean over the island counter to see the white liquid has thickened considerably more than when you’d been stirring it. “told you to just let it sit for a while and it’d do it’s own thing!”

unable to help the smile that spreads across your lips, you huff and wave a hand across your face in dismissal, harmlessly rolling your eyes at him. “alright, no need to rub it in now,” you chide as he replaces the pot and skips over to your side, large steps that have him swinging his arms back and forth like an excited child. there’s no hiding the glee in his expression when he sits down again and immediately turns to face you, as if he was waiting for you to admit something. and maybe that’s what he was waiting for, but you’re still stubborn when it comes to him, so you only turn your eyes away from him and cross your arms with a false pout. “just set the timer again, will you?” you grumble, and you’re rewarded with laughter that rang as pure and innocent as the sound of trickling water. it leaves you stunned for a moment, echoes in your mind and finds a home inside your chest so that it plays back for you to hear. it’s a beautiful sound, you think; there’s a part of you that wants to hear more. it horrifies you.

“what about you?” you shake your head as you lean your elbows on top of the counter top, eyes focused on your fingers wrapping around one another rather than to meet vermillion red. the cool feeling of the marble does very little to ease the warmth coursing beneath your skin. “what’re your plans after finishing the course?”

tendou’s laughter dies down like the wind comes to a pause, where the leaves stop rustling on an easy rest as he sighs long and full, his chest rising with the action as he leans backward ever so slightly. “i was thinking of making chocolate,” he tells, tilting his head and lending his gaze to the scenery outside your window. it gives you the courage to look back at him, at the sight of his figure bathed in sunlight where the gold bounces off his skin like a gem. with his expression set on pensive and his eyes bearing a wandering glint, he looks nearly ethereal inside your kitchen, a picture of immortality that you’ve never bothered to look at before now. he glows under a melting light, the picture of him robs you of air and leaves you gasping, desperate for your blood to start flowing the way it had before.

it’s when his eyes find yours that you relearn how to breathe.

his gaze is half-lidded, touched by a visual of content that makes him look at peace, nearly drowsy as his hand supports the weight of his head. the smile on his lips is slight, the kind that quirks the corners of your lips and tells you a story of effortless charm.

“is there any particular reason?” you hate that your voice comes out weak, that it breaks on it’s departure and tumbles out of your lips like white feathers flutter from the sky. the onslaught of emotion leaves you reeling, your center of gravity cast from your body and you struggle to find your footing over uneven ground, all while he watches you, red eyes picking you apart and leaving bear to him the parts of yourself you’ve never seen. a boyish smile settles over his lips as he turns his head to fully face you, leaning forward ever so slightly, but it’s enough so that you’re once again able to taste peppermint on his breath. it washes over your skin like an autumn wind, leaves a chill that reminds you of the first signs of snow on the throws of a mid-summer’s heat.

“not really,” he confesses with a shrug, carefree and unbothered while he leaves you as the perfect image of flustered. his voice is low, like a whisper. it’s hushed, and you’re able to hear something of a sigh on his words that leaves you to wonder about the way the sunlight reflects off of pools of red, how the golden hue makes them appear like the butterscotch candies you’d snack on between classes. “i just… like sweet things.”

“oh.”

you’re reminded of the taste of caramel when you think of tendou. it comes as a surprise when you take the first bite into a chocolate bar, an unexpected drop of golden sweetness that makes you pause for, if only, just a second to properly let its flavour spread across your tongue. he’s the warmth of sunset that embraces your body, the feeling of the waves that brush against your toes, the sand that fills with water and wraps around your feet. you’re left on the shoreline to watch in awe as flames of orange and red dance on the ocean’s surface, where the blazes and embers of a passion unimaginable to your midnight moon leave traces of ethereal gold in its wake.

there’s a sudden thought that invades your mind, slow like molasses and just as bittersweet; you want to sink beneath those burning waters, to let them cover you from head to toe and consume all that you are. until your heart learns his melody and your body falls to his tune.

there’s a part of you that yearns after satori tendou, and the realization if it scares you.

you’re the first to look away when the timer sounds once more, your face burns and you purse your lips together while your hands tangle together on your lap. beside you, tendou arises wordlessly to saunter over to the pot, humming once more to the tune that continues to play from his phone. it doesn’t sound like a typical alarm, and it leaves you intrigued by it’s upbeat melody. “what song is that?” you curse the way your voice breaks, clearing your throat and hoping that he didn’t pick up on it. why were you suddenly becoming such a mess?

tendou answers you a bit distractedly while he tilts the pot from side to side, his head cocked in contemplation and his expression pensive. “it’s called circus,” he glances at you from over his shoulder and uses his free hand to gesture you forward before reaching for the pair of yellow, sunflower-themed muffins you left to sit close-by. “bring the chocolate for me, would’ja?” you meet him just as he’s moving your pot to sit on your counter, the plate of chopped up chocolate bits in your hand while he moves to the side to let you dump them into the mixture. “i found it on this playlist from youtube and i kinda got obsessed with it.”

you take in his words over the light-hearted melody that plays from his phone, enjoying the sound of it before it cuts off and sets to snooze since tendou hadn’t turned it off. it leaves you wanting to hear more, and you wish it would have played on for a little bit longer as you set the plate to the side. “can i look it up?” you ask; the thought that it was silly to ask for his permission rings in your head before you can stop it, and you feel your face heating up when he looks up from mixing the chocolate to you, his eyes alight with amusement and his smile teasing.

“go ahead,” he chuckles, giving his attention back to the pot after casually waving a hand in the air. “mind bringing me the setting tray?”

it doesn’t take you too long to open up the youtube app, your fingers typing in the name of the song before you pause and glance over to your partner. “is it the one by showmore?”

“yup!”

soon, the familiar intro bleeds into your kitchen space, filling up the absence of conversation between you and tendou as he bobs his head along to its sound. you’re left to lean against the counter, your hands folded beneath you while he pours out your chocolate mixture into the little cube shapes in the tray. what you feel is a comfort, a type of quiet happiness that calms your breath on the sound of drums and the piano that blends with the singer’s voice. “it sounds nice,” you mutter quietly, unable to help the way your head nods in time to the melody.

tendou shoots you an excited smile. “it does, right?? i’ve been listening to it nonstop ever since i found it.” his enthusiasm draws a laugh from you, a grin stretches across your face as you watch him sway side to side. it’s an adorable picture of him dancing and smiling so brightly, and when he looks up at you with excitement in his eyes, you feel your heart skip a beat.

“wanna dance?”

“huh?”

the question catches you off guard, leaves you to stare wide-eyed at his back as he pops the tray into the freezer before turning back to face you. his grin widens and becomes almost teasing when he sees your stunned expression. “c’mere!” he urges you with an eagerness, his hand waving you over.

“tendou, i—” you avert your gaze, feeling your skin warm up once more as you murmur your answer. “i can’t dance…”

he makes his way over to you in a sequence of movements you can’t hope to describe — it’s almost like a prance, where his steps are exaggerated and his shoulders lift up in a kind of rocking motion while he’s snapping his fingers to the beat. “that’s fine!” he grins at you just as he reaches out for your hand, pulls you to your feet and coaxes you from behind your island counter. “i can’t either!”

for a moment, you’re caught between amused and hopelessly confused while the man before you lifts your arms like wet spaghetti, letting him swing them between your bodies as if you were a puppet, and he the puppeteer. he’s beaming at you so widely that it’s almost ridiculous, but he seems so vivid and joyous while he maneuvers your limbs, and it causes broad laughter to bubble up from your chest as your body doubles over. it’s a pure, weightless type of laughter that leaves you, like the chiming of bells on the summer wind. it echoes over the music, and when tendou joins in with you, there arises between you both a new kind of song, whose story is found at the evening time when the world holds her breath. it’s a harmony that’s carefree, like the fall from an ocean cliff, like the breath that vanishes from your lungs and cries on laughter beneath the blue sky. it’s the feeling of your fears melting, and when your body finally plunges between those fireset waves, you’re wondering why you were scared in the first place.

“that’s it!!” the excitement in tendou’s voice is infectious, his smile as bright as the sun itself when your fingers intertwine with his and your body finally moves on its own. here begins a dance between you two where he pulls you in closer, and when you pull away, your hands remain intertwined. an irresistible force that you can’t help being drawn to, that spins you around his fingers and wraps you in his arms, all while eyes of the sweetest sunset promise you gold on your midnight sky. the feeling inside your chest is warm, sets through your body like a quiet buzz and it leaves you wanting more, so that the yearning you feel would only ever be satisfied by him.

your hand in his feels like a slow burning flame, and as the both of you are laughing with a song you create with each other, you realize that you’re no longer afraid of its heat.

taglist: @aiiishiiiteru @bootylikepeachy @tsumue @waitforitillwritemywayout @mixxfi @shnnn

send an ask to be added or removed!! (also pls lemme know if i’m forgetting anyone? i think i got you all but just in case)

#tendou satori x reader #tendou x reader #tendou x reader fluff #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x reader fluff #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu!! spoilers #haikyuu!! au event 💫

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doitwritenow · 4 years

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IronStrange Starter Kit - Master Fic Rec List for all Y’all Because You’ve been Asking and I’ve been Avoiding

Hi! All you anons and askers, I made a list!!! Hopefully some of these are what you’ve been after. :D

(Please reblog this, lol, I spent too much time on it...)

General rules: These are complete unless indicated otherwise, and end happily unless indicated otherwise. There’s a variety of ratings, as I have no qualms against smut, but I don’t usually read it outside of a larger plot. So I don’t think there’ll be many explicit stories on here. Word counts vary; I indicate general length but don’t go into specifics. What else, uh... Bold stuff is the headers and general subjects. I link the titles. Block quotes are author summaries. Enjoy!!

Okay so first off, there are a couple of Fandom Staples who just have leagues worth of good short stories, and if you haven’t read them, then definitely treat yourself to the array:

A Thousand Futures of Me and You - VisionaryGalaxy (Vishanti, what a legend, ily so much). This is a series of unconnected one-shots, each their own and covering a variety of tropes and moments and themes and AUs. They’re so fun (and/or painful and/or thought-provoking and/or tense and/or sexy)! In-character and amazing, consistantly.

Prompt Collection - amethyst-noir (Arbonne). (Also a legendary human). This is exactly what it sounds like: a series of prompt fills in all sorts of tones. You’ll almost certainly find something here that feels like it was just made for you!

Alright, onto the individual stories and series!

Long fics/series:

The of overqualified hands and pi figures series - lantia4ever. (This was my first Ironstrange story, and it is no less magical now.)

A series of one-shots, all set in the same alternate verse in which Tony and Stephen first meet following the events of the first Avengers and then continue to meet after that throughout the canon up until Infinity War and eventually beyond it. Becoming friends - and more along the way.

Time After Time - fancylances. (I love love LOVE this one. Highly recommended.)

Tony Stark is unstuck in time. Stephen Strange might just be the only person in the universe qualified enough to help.

Citizen Erased - Imagined. (This author. Just... such a wonderful, talented, stunning person who makes wonderful, talented, stunning works. This story is masterful.)

What do you do when no one in the world ever manages to remember you?

Anyone who sees Tony Stark promptly forgets he ever existed after mere seconds. When everyone he has ever cared about has lost their memories of him, he goes to Stephen Strange, possibly the only one who can help him lift the curse. But a terrifying danger is coming, and saving the world isn’t an easy job to do when no one can remember who you are.

if only the gods had mercy on us and it’s sequel a soul too deep - orphan_account. (Vishanti, this series... It’s so beautiful and emotional and heart-breaking and heart-warming. And it has so few views for so many words! One of my absolute favorites, VERY highly recommended.)

Tony Stark loved Stephen Strange. He loved him more than anyone could ever imagine. But then a terrorist group attacked the convoy. Then there was a car accident. In the middle of it all, there is tired, battered love. (And, maybe, a little bit of genius)

From the Top - lucifersfavoritechild. (Everyone reads this fic. Written by the blogger Monarch Of The Ironstrange Ship, it’s an MCU rewrite around the relationship. Very fun.)

“Stephen, if you’re . . . there somewhere . . . when I drift off, I’ll be with you again. I can’t wait.”

|| Personally, I think the MCU would be much better as a love story between Stephen Strange and Tony Stark. Don't you?

Starting from Iron Man, and going all the way to Endgame, with all the appropriate stops in between. Let's take it from the top.

UNFINISHED: Skin Deep - Mystical_Magician. (Super cool premise, and super interesting to read! The dynamic here is very fun.)

A battle that should have finally killed Stephen instead launches him into a parallel universe. Exhausted from centuries as Sorcerer Supreme, he chooses instead to explore this new world in any animal form except human. Having hoped for peace at last, he can't stand to be looked up to, to be responsible for others, to have the world on his shoulders.

If he'd hoped to avoid excitement, however, he really should have stayed away when he noticed an enormous explosion and a falling metal suit of armor as he passed through Afghanistan.

UNFINISHED: The End of Infinity - FriendlyNeighborhoodFangirls. (Self rec. Very long, very slow-burn. Canon-compliant Endgame fix-it. I’m trying so hard, lol.)

In 2023, the battle for the universe has been won. At a cost no one can forget, the fight is over—for all but one. Stephen Strange has an idea. An impossible idea spanning dimensions and timelines, life and death, and the lines of good and evil. But he's played impossible odds before—perhaps he never stopped.

All that Loki wanted was to fight, one last time, for the fate of his universe. So when he finds himself fighting for another, crashing into the past, he has a few intended words for the wizard that forced him there. But not before he finds a boy. Or, more accurately, before the boy finds him.

Peter Parker had been waiting for the next mission. He just doesn't expect it to come from the future, armed with a ridiculous story demanding a ridiculous quest. And he doesn't expect not to be able to tell Mr. Stark.

Tony Stark is trying to rebuild from the Civil War, knowing that someday, something will come that he needs to be ready for. And he doesn't know it yet, but two universes are trying to rebuild around him, and that something is already here.

Seven Stones. Five dead. Two universes. And one impossible quest to tie it all back together.

UNFINISHED: Sunrise in Exile - Ragdoll (Keshka). (Another fandom favorite! And for good reason. This is really really good!)

Tony does the math and realizes their best chance to save the universe is by... not confronting Thanos on his own turf.

So he steals a wizard and a spider and a space ship. And he runs.

(Three humans and an A.I in space, the alien friendships they make along the way, and discovering how science and magic might coexist in a universe where they can be one and the same.)

Shorter plotty ones:

Out of Suffering - Mystical_Magician. (So this author??? THIS AUTHOR??? Very very good, much yes, very good.)

Stephen Strange does not like people, but 14,000,605 lifetimes of fighting and dying alongside this small group have worn down his walls. He likes them, gods help him. He might even consider them friends. It’s really for the best that they all go their separate ways once Thanos has been defeated. In their eyes, he’s barely even an acquaintance.

Now if only Tony and Peter would stop surprising him.

moros - spookykingdomstarlight. (Almost got a spot in the angst section. Very good).

There were fourteen million universes Stephen had birthed into existence and let die and, in far more than he cared to count, the visitor standing before him had become something… dear.

Shaking is Caring - mariadperiad20. (This is just STUNNING. Highly loved.)

5 times Stephen's hands would shake, +1 time they didn't.

It's Kinda Chalky - DestielsDestiny. (This one’s pretty short, but definitely worth it.)

You can live an entire lifetime by looking into someone’s eyes. His sister used to say that all the time. Stephen never gave it much thought back then. These days, he can think of little else.

Something Magic - Imagined. (Beautiful!)

There is only ever one rule that matters:

do not fall in love with the enemy.

An Idiotic Theory - FriendlyNeighborhoodFangirls. (Self rec! I tried to be funny.)

His wizard has been cursed, again, and Tony's already used up his luck for the day.

(Stephen says it's not a curse. He says Tony's whole daily-allotted karma-based luck theory has minimal merit, citing the fact that Tony had come up with it while he was drunk.)

Tony really should have saved his miracle.

Love Through Time - babywarg (morphaileffect). (I love this one. It sticks with you.)

Tony discovers an old drawing of, and finally remembers, his invisible friend Stephen from when he was a child.

Alternates - doobler. (Super cool!)

After being punked by a lowbrow magician, Stephen finds himself falling through doors to otherwordly dimensions. How will he ever get home?

132 - 28ghosts. (Soulmate AU! Very fun, incorporates Stephen’s time-loop with Dormammu.)

Ninety-nine point eight percent of humans have a soulmate mark that tells them the age their soulmate will be when they meet them. Tony Stark has a mark. It's just that his is...different than most people's.

(Or: six people who aren't Tony Stark's soulmate, and one who is.)

and when the world falls (I will fall with it) - HeavenChild. (Another multichap soulmate AU. Absolutely lovely.)

Tony will give anything to those he loves.

People will take everything he gives before leaving him in shambles.

Rhodhey, Pepper and Vision have had enough.

Or the five times Tony had his heart broken and the one time he didn't.

i saw the end of the world - JumpToConclusions. (Why has no one read this fic??? It’s so good!!! Stephen knows the future since he saw it on Titan, and things grow more complex from there.)

Tony and Strange are trying to make this work, this being remaking The Avengers. ...And maybe they'll stumble into something else along the way.

Tiresome heart, forever living and dying - Mystical_Magician. (R e a d t h i s p l e a s e. The mythology is so cool and the symbolism is so beautiful and the prose is so satisfying. One of my absolute faves.)

As a fledgling crane, Stephen was too curious for his own good, and it was this curiosity that led to Eugene Strange finding and stealing away his feather robe. Trapped in human form, cruelly forged into the perfect son, not even his father's death freed him when his robe was so well hidden. He only managed to break his father's mold after breaking completely in the aftermath of his accident, and slowly gluing those broken pieces back together at Kamar-Taj, but not even magic could find what had been hidden. Enter Tony, after the defeat of Thanos.

Fluffy ones:

From The Outside - Live. (Hilarious.)

Being a sentient life-form surrounded by humanity can be hard. Especially when said humans just can't admit their feelings for each other.

Sleeping Iron Man - Golden_Asp. (Another fun one. Perfect balance of ridiculousness with a touch of angst to make it interesting.)

Stephen Strange stared at the Avengers on his doorstep, Tony Stark flung over Steve Rogers' shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "He touched something, didn't he?" "Yuup." or The one where Tony touches Sleeping Beauty's spindle, is put into an enchanted sleep, and everyone, even Rocket Raccoon, take their turn kissing him. But Tony only has one prince charming.

Doctor Ob(li)vious - lantia4ever. (One of my very favorites. So cute.)

Stephen starts getting some weird looks from the Avengers, spanning across disturbed, confused and even scared all the way to curious. He dismisses it at first until weird turns into knowing.

And knowing turns into realizing...even if the scheming teenagers had to all but paint it on the walls for him to do so. Oh wait...

Applied Combinatorics in Two-Player Games - 28ghosts. (Short and fun and full of snark.)

After a battle, Tony Stark and Stephen Strange argue about games.

“Chess is not a solved problem.”

“Has been since ‘97, Kasparov versus Deep Blue. Kasparov, 1; Deep Blue, 2; three draws.”

“Chess is a game, not a problem.”

The Courtship of Peter Parker's Father (Figures) - flyingonfeatherlesswings. (Peter plays matchmaker! Adorable.)

Peter couldn't stand to sit by while Tony and Stephen danced around each other any longer. Something had to be done.

Speaking Eyes - Vrishchika. (Not Steve Friendly. Tony is amazing in this. And Stephen is so fantastically dramatic.)

Tony has always had expressive eyes.

The Signs of Sleep Deprivation - FriendlyNeighborhoodFangirls. (Another self-rec. <3)

"Tony said to put the potato in the dishwasher, so that's what I did."

Sometimes, Avengers just show up to say hi. Sometimes, they all show up at once, and Tony makes an party out of it. Sometimes, he invites the snarky, oblivious, somewhat insecure wizard because, and Peter quotes: "everyone else is coming".

Sometimes, something needs to be done.

Show Me Your Scars (And I'll Show You Mine) - Imagined. (Adorable. Lovely. Imagined does it again.)

The worst part is that Stephen keeps tucking his hands away, just as Tony wants to hold them. He keeps hiding them, surreptitiously, no matter what they’re doing. It’s only when Tony kisses Stephen, or hugs him, that he feels the hands settle on his back, uncertain, ready to pull back within seconds.

It only makes him want to cuddle up to Stephen even more, but he backs away, not sure if it’d be welcome.

Promise? Promise. - sharonscarters. (AU, kidfic, absolutely adorable.)

A four year old Tony Stark runs away from home and finds his Guardian Angel.

What The Doctor Ordered - wakandan_wardog. (Post CW. Kind of not Rogues friendly? So fun, makes me smile. I re-read this one a lot.)

The Rogue Avengers are called back to New York because the heavy hitters are going to be needed against Thanos. Of course, there are some truths that Steve Rogers will need to accept sooner rather than later. Tony Stark has moved on and Stephen Strange will not suffer fools lightly.

Hurt/Comforty ones:

Among The Chaos of The Stars (You're My Safe Harbour) - ShootMeDead. (Oh my vishanti. OH MY VISHANTI. So so so so SO good.)

Stephen has always been able to hear the stars. Tony is the only one who can silence them.

each night like a white noise frequency - Phierie. (I ADORE THIS FIC. OKAY. I LOVE IT. READ IT.)

Stephen is no stranger to making hard choices. He doesn’t regret his actions on Titan, but months later they weigh on his mind heavier than ever; the cracks begin to show.

Just An Accident - CucumbersInGold. (I really like fics with Stephen’s hands and the difficulties thereabout. Idk, just one of my favorite things. This is beautiful).

Stephen's hands act up.

Learning, Unlearning - Caaaaaaas. (More character study than anything else. Really good.)

Whatever Stephen wanted with life, life just didn’t seem to know what to do with him.

In which Stephen learns and unlearns some very important lessons.

your eyes have their silence - doctortwelfth. (Oh look it’s another scars fic. I told you I liked them.)

Tony is gentle with Stephen’s hands even when Stephen forgets to be.

Burning Lines Into The Snow - petroltogo. (Not very Steve friendly. Short and sweet.)

Post CW: It's not just the team that's so broken they are barely able to comprehend how many parts they're missing now, how many have been ripped and twisted and torn. It's Tony as well, right down to the core, the damage so far-reaching even he doesn't know how to fix it.

And then there's Strange, who has his own way of covering the cracks.

Old Bones - CJtheWeeb. (Owch. Dumb geniuses trying to be invulnerable.)

Sometimes Stephen Strange has great days, where he was nearly pain free and his hands still enough to where he could pick up a cup of water and barely spill a drop.

Today was not one of those days.

something taken, something new - meowrails. (So in-character. The premise was a little off to me, but I’m so glad I decided to read this one. I really really like this fic.)

The ChronicConnection implement and app allows a person that lives with chronic or illness-induced pain to transfer their burden temporarily to a willing loved one.

Tony and Stephen sign up as beta testers.

Angsty ones (happy ending unless otherwise mentioned):

day one - days4daisy. (THIS IS SO GOOD OKAY IF YOU READ NOTHING ELSE ON THIS LIST READ THIS).

Three days in Stark Tower. Stephen must be in bad shape if he just agreed to this.

His Merlin - babywarg (morphaileffect). (This author keeps showing up on this list because they are A LEGEND. A LEGEND I TELL YOU.)

As a child, Tony imagined himself a Knight of the Round Table. Little did he know he would grow up to be a king. And that he would have a wizard by his side to lead him to either glory or destruction.

there is no heart for me like yours - turtle_abyss. (Soulmate AU! Wonderful. <3)

Being able to feel your soulmate - a phantom touch, a bone-deep awareness - is a divine torture. To know, but not see. To seek, but not find. To feel someone holding your hand and not be able to hold theirs.

Grace - StrangeMischief. (*cries in beautiful fic* Happy ending!)

“Pain’s an old friend.”

Us...Me - StrangeMischief. (This will hurt you. So melancholy. Pepper and Tony live their life, and Tony remembers. Not a happy ending.)

“I don’t believe in happily ever after.”

One-Thousand Cranes - FriendlyNeighborhoodFangirls. (Self rec, sorry. Hopeful ending.)

After it all, a man with shaking hands makes a wish.

courtesy - deathofglitter. (Dealing with the fourteen-million futures. So good.)

Stark looked at him like he looked at the amulet that rested on his chest like a steady promise - dutiful, a bit burdened, and trying to hold a profound lack of personal emotion whatsoever, still personal enough to protect as anyone would a precious object.

La Douleur Exquise - BananasofThorns, StrangeMischief. (More pain. Pepper and Tony, and Stephen watching and trying not to wish. Very good, no happy ending.)

The before was easy. There were fewer boxes in their minds and no chains around their hearts. There was no hurt. No tears. No dreams.

But those days were long gone.

Stigmata - babywarg (morphaileffect). (AU! Soulmates again. Very interesting, beautifully done.)

Since Stephen was little, mysterious wounds have appeared and disappeared on his body, leaving mysterious scars. His mother says it's because he's one of a Pair, and he's absorbing pain meant for someone else.

*wipes brow* PHEW! That gotta a little more in-depth than I first intended... Have fun, my MysticIron friends. Happy quarantine.

887 notes · View notes

hyperactivelittlebee · 4 years

Text

The oddity at Area77(Hermitcraft)

BEFORE YOU READ, KNOW THIS:

Doc did add some fox DNA to fill in gaps in the chain, this is unexplained in the fix so I wanted to put this here.

This takes place in a AU where Doc going through the infinity portal led him to an entirely different dimension instead.

Ren strummed his guitar as he listened to Grian and Impulse chat across the campfire, their heads adorned with flower crowns as colorful as the conversation. As adorable as they were, his thoughts were not focused on the conversation between the two other hippies, their words slowly slipping together until they were completely foreign to him. The Lycan stood up, putting down his guitar before walking over to the treeline of the manmade cliff hiding the camp.

He squinted, his eyesight sharpening as he searched the grounds of Area 77, huffing at the sight of the empty terrain. No one had seen Doc leave the sight for days, and whenever Scar was out he would always be in a rush- muttering about how he needed to get back to the sight as soon as possible. It was suspicious- everyone on the server knew that- but Xisuma had checked it out and had come back saying they were just expanding the underground.

Ren combed his fingers through his long brown hair, a soft growl bubbling in his throat. No. They couldn't be simply expanding the underground- they were acting too suspicious for that- and he wanted to get to the bottom of it.

Meanwhile, inside Area 77- things were bubbling to the brim.

Doc paced, eye scanning the mess of papers in his hands in anger. Each paper was filled from top to bottom with various notes, mathematical equations, formulas, and descriptions- all his and Scar's handwriting. His eyes scanned the papers furiously, trying to figure out the problem with his notes just as he had been doing for weeks.

Every. single. formula. was. perfect. They had calculated every ounce to a T without a problem, each calculation was flawless-

"So why the fuck isnt it working?!" The creeper hybrid yelled before roaring in frustration and slamming his robotic fist down on the metallic surface, making a sizable dent. Scar jumped in his seat in shock, eyes wide as saucers and shaking. He had just started dozing off when the loud smash sounded and gave him a near heart attack, but now he was fully awake. Doc looked at him, immediately regretting his outburst as he saw the fearful look on the younger man's face, "S-sorry Scar..." His tone was strained, but softer than before making Scar's shaking slowly cease, "I-its fine...I was falling asleep anyway..." The brunette rubbed the tiredness from his eyes.

They tensed when an alarm went off, spinning towards the monitor. On the screen, it showed Ren walking towards the hangar doors with a surprising scowl on his face.

"Shit..." Doc cursed under his breath before grabbing his trident and running out, "I got it Scar..."

"M'kay..."

Doc flew up to the hanger just in time to see Ren pry the doors open gently, the eyes of the pair locking. "Doc." The Lycans voice came out forced as if he was trying to sound simply intimidating but instead, it came out as if he was frustrated with the creeper hybrid.

"Ren. What did I say about coming here? You aren't allowed. It's strictly forbidden." Ren shrugged, trying to relax, "I thought I'd come offer to help you and Scar expand- it's taking you quite a long time."

Fuck. Doc had forgotten about that excuse. He forced a grin, "Thanks, but no thanks. Scar and I have got it covered." Suddenly, the creeper hybrid took in the other male's posture and he narrowed his eyes, "But that's not really why you're here is it."

Sighing, Ren huffed, "Alright, alright. I wanted to know the real reason behind you and Scar's behavior- What the hell are you dudes workin' on?"

"You don't need to know Ren."

"I DO need to, the curiosity is killing me Doc!!"

"Curiosity cannot literally kill you, Ren, now go home and don't make me use my trident and drag you out by the scruff." Ren sputtered, gasping in offense, "You wouldn't dare!!"

"I would."

The two held glares for several minutes before Ren made a mad dash for the ladder all of a sudden, Doc lobbing his trident at him in instinct. The trident snagged his shirt, pinning him to the wall, "I told you, Ren. Now come on." He pinched the back of Ren's neck- his scruff- and took his trident from the wall, dragging the whining younger man out the door. He was going to drag him all the way to the gate, when suddenly Ren shouted something, "C'mon man- Your not my mom or my dad, let go!!"

Doc froze, eye widened as he murmured, "Mom...or dad..." The creeper let go of Ren, eyes wide, "Holy shit, I've got it!!!" He turned and dashed back to the hanger, leaving behind a confused Ren laying on the lawn as he locked the hanger back up and jumped to the bottom of the ladder, sprinting to the lab, "Scar, I think I've got it!!!"

"What??"

"I figured out what we were missing!!" He laughed, beyond ecstatic as he grabbed his notes, "We have the DNA from a female- the mother- but we never added the DNA for a FATHER!!" He whipped around towards Scar, "Quick, I need some of your DNA- Do a cheek swab-" Scar tensed, "What? Why me?"

"Would you rather give Creeper DNA to an already potentially dangerous foreign entity, or would you rather give it human DNA?" Scar was silent, internally face palming as he grabbed a clean Q-tip and did a cheek swab.

He handed the Q-tip to Doc, who put it in a separater. Scar walked over to the machine, entering the formulas and measurements, silently praying for Doc to be right. He and Doc were on their last DNA sample of the unknown female- they had one last shot at this.

"Alright, Stand back with glasses!" Scar grabbed his goggles and ran behind the safety glass with Doc, sealing the door.

The Redstone lit the chamber up in an ominous red as the machine started to shake, flickering between blue and green lights as it powered on. A shadow slowly formed inside it, looking more and more human-shaped as it molded itself.

Doc and Scar's hearts were in their throats, almost weeping in joy. It was working- they were recreating an actual body and technically reviving someone dead. It started to move into the memory transfer, working to restore the being's memories. This was a scientific breakthrough- bigger than the infinity portal, or the weather machine, it would mean everything.

The two scientists' minds were running at a hundred miles an hour with possibilities. Bringing back long-dead societies and servers- reversing Permadeaths- it was all endless.

Then something went wrong.

The alarm went off, the buttons on the machine blinked red, the monitors flashed with "System failure" all over them, "Shit!!" Scar shouted, excitement turning into fear in seconds.

Doc scrambled to do something to stop the process- The body was more likely already formed, it was proof enough, "Scar! Shut it down!!" Scar nodded and slammed his hand down on a button labeled "Abort", all the systems shut down at once and the only light coming from the emergency lights around them.

The pair shook, staring into the room. There was a soft hiss as the body chamber began to open, prompting Doc to spring into action and race into the room.

The chamber door opened and sure enough, in the cushioned cradle was the small form of a baby, still and silent. He ran in, kneeling down by the cradle and cautiously scooping it up.

The first thing he noticed was that it was a female, the idea instilling itself as Scar ran in immediately with a soft-looking baby blanket. The second noticeable thing was her short, incredibly pure snow-white hair and two large silver fox ears followed by a long fluffy silver foxtail protruding from her lower back. The third thing he noticed, was that due to aborting early her body wasn't finished forming. She was missing her leg up to her kneecap on one leg, and the other was missing halfway down her shin- the ends just being clean stumps.

Her skin was a milky white like a ghost.

A pit formed in the brunette's stomach as anxiety settled in, Doc's fingers pressing against her pulse, his eyes searching for some sign of life. Scar's swallowed dryly, the pure fear settling in that this- the endless nights of exhaustion, the multitude of trips in and out of the Infinity portal just for simple excavation, the endless formulas and equations and mountains of crumpled papers- might've all been for nothing.

Doc held his breath as he prayed for a pulse, "Please...please wake up..." He murmured, eye searching the baby's face for anything- any signs of life.

Nothing came.

The creeper hybrid felt like he was going to break down right then. He slowly placed the baby back in the crib and walked back to the door, the exhaustion creeping back in on him as devastation weighed heavy in his heart, "This experiments over. I...I can't do this anymore Scar. I thought I could handle this- but I can't..." Scar could see it in his eyes- the hurt, the pain, the devastation.

Doc had wanted this to succeed more than anything else. Sure, it was proof he could play Notch for a brief moment! Just long enough to stick it to everyone who told him he would never be able to. However, it was also personal.

Doc and Scar had been searching ruins from the infinity dimension, quickly realizing they had stumbled across a dying- or perhaps already long-dead- species settlement. They searched and searched, digging until they came across an almost fully decayed body of one of the natives. They tested the DNA sample only to find that the DNA matched nothing the servers had seen before- then Doc had the idea. He wanted to use the dead tissue to try and rebirth the species.

Was it a good idea? In hindsight, not really.

Was the idea of potentially playing Notch and creating life alluring? Absolutely.

But now was their last chance- having used up the last strands of DNA they had from the remains- and it had failed for what, the 27th time? They had made it far enough to almost fully create a body- so, so close...but in the end, they couldn't give it life.

Scar gently patted Doc's back, "Okay...you just...You go rest-"

A wail cut Scar off, his eyes growing as wide as saucers. Doc whipped around in surprise, his voice caught in his throat as his eyes locked on the babe, who squirmed and wail in the cradle- eyes screwed shut and little hands reaching for empty air. Scar felt all his anxiety and fear wash away with that wail, tears of relief gathering in his eyes.

Doc walked over to the cradle, reaching out to pick up the baby before flinching back, looking at his prosthetic arm with uncertainty. Instead, he reached down and gently petted the top of the baby's head. Slowly, the baby calmed, instead making soft cooing noises.

He looked to Scar as he drew his hand back, "Scar, you pick them up. When you do, they'll probably open their eyes and imprint on you." His voice was faint, weary and strained. Scar raised a brow, "Why can't you? You're the one that conducted the experiment after all...Are you uncomfortable with the idea of it imprinting on you?"

Doc looked at Scar, tensing and biting his lip- his sharp teeth digging into his bottom lip, "It...its not that I'm uncomfortable! I-i just- They've got YOUR DNA, your technically their father a-and- and-...god dammit..." The creeper hybrid cursed under his breath, unable to formulate better words as Scar gave him a look that screamed unconvinced, "I just-" He sighed in defeat, looking at the brunette with a rare moment of vulnerability, "I don't think...having her imprint on me is a good idea."

"Why not?" Scar's voice was soft, silently telling Doc that whatever he felt, Scar would at least try to understand.

"Scar...Look at me. To a child- I look like a monster under the bed! I mean- I intimidated and terrified the hell out of everyone on the server when I first arrived simply by appearance alone! I'm missing an eye, half my face, and an arm. I replaced them with metal plating on my shoulder and face, a robotic arm, and a cold, emotionless, glowing red laser-like dot for an eye." He ranted, his voice remaining quiet enough to not disturb the baby but loud enough to get his anger across, "But that only added to my already scary appearance. I'm practically a giant with how tall I am but instead of being mostly lanky like Mumbo and X, I'm well built with muscles- which I'm not complaining about that necessarily, but a child sees how big I am and normally they run the other way crying!" He strode closer towards an unwavering Scar, towering over the smaller man with a snarl on his face, showing off his teeth as his voice grew firmer, "I'm a Creeper Scar- I walk among everyone else and talk with them as if I'm one of you but I am still just that- A mob made to instinctively blow up and kill as many as I can. My teeth are sharp to let me consume meat, My skin is tough like iron armor and rough like gravel to protect me, my nails are meant to slash and draw blood- Fuck, the only thing I've managed to not break or hurt has been Redstone machinery! I'm meant to kill-" He drew back, eye filled with anger at not Scar, but himself, "Not to raise something as delicate and soft as a baby. I don't....My DNA might have been blended with a little bit of humans- My father might have been a human- but that instinct? The one that gives parents an urge to love and protect their child? I don't have that in me. You do, Scar."

The room was quiet as the two stared each other down, Scar standing stubbornly.

"With all due respect, Doc...that's the most moronic thing you've ever said."

"Excuse me?" Doc scoffed, shock written on his face. Scar narrowed his eyes, "Doc- look at me. Do I look like the nicest guy?" Doc's eyes scanned the younger man's face, his eyes drawn towards the 3 large scars across his face, left to right, and the piercing gold irises, "No, I don't. People look at me and are immediately repulsed by my scars- how do you think I came across that name? People started calling me Scar and disregarded my real name- I don't even remember how long ago it was when suddenly the only name I knew was Scar! "Despite how he looks, It's always a good time with Scar!" They mocked...Nobody was around who remembered my birth name and so eventually I just- forgot it...I adopted the name and phrase people from my home server called me where ever I went- Scar Goodtimes." His tone was surprisingly solemn and tame, catching Doc off guard, "Doc, your situation? Honestly, its a shame on me to compare to my own- My scars aren't nearly as bad as yours- but I know what your feeling. Let me tell you- You are passing off the opportunity of a lifetime, are you sure you want to do that?"

Doc was frozen in place, eye growing wide. He had never really thought about it like that, he never wondered why Scar was named something so blatantly obvious, he never realized this truly was a once in a lifetime opportunity.

It wasn't like he'd ever settle down with someone- he was fine with being single- so this would probably be the only chance he'd have at experiencing being a father.

The hybrid took a deep breath, "Fine...your right Scar." He smiled warily, "I didn't get this far without seizing opportunities or taking risks after all." Doc chuckled nervously, turning to the crib and looking inside. The baby's eyes were still shut and she was now nibbling on the blanket Scar had draped over her earlier, seemingly unaware of his presence.

He cleared his voice before speaking quietly, "Hello little one..." Doc reached into the crib, gently scratching the baby's back. The baby let out a gurgling noise, turning to his hand and grabbing his finger with little hands.

The Creeper heart felt lighter, the soft coo's reaching his ears and the feeling of soft, delicate little hands wrapped around his fingers.

"Bah!" The baby yelled out the word so suddenly it made Doc and Scar jump a little bit. Doc looked up at Scar, his eye begging for the other man's help, "What- what do I do now?" The brunette rolled his eyes, walking over and standing on the opposite side of the crib, "Pick her up. Support her head and body most importantly- She probably isn't old enough to support it on her own..."

Doc gulped nervously as he slowly scooped up the smaller body into his arms, shifting around a bunch before just settling on cradling it in his arms, pressed against his chest. He felt like he was physically melting as he gazed down at the being in his arms, an awestruck smile crossing his face as he looked up at Scar, "She's...she's so tiny...Scar- Scar it's so small I-i- M-My chest hurts- My heart- I can't- She's so cute-"

Scar gawked in silent amazement at the display before him. Doc was shaking, looking like he was about to cry as he shakily held the baby in his arms. The scientist's smile was so incredibly contagious and his voice was soft, squeaky and breathless as he tried to convey what he felt.

That hard shell Doc kept up so often was crumbling to pieces at his feet just like that, "M-maybe you should sit down..." Scar muttered and put a hand on Doc's back, leading him out the machine and grabbing two chairs from the control room, setting them down and leading Doc to sit.

Their attentions snapped back towards the baby as it let out an excited gurgle, "DAH!" She stretched her arms towards Doc's face, eyes opened wide and fixed on him with a large smile on her face.

Her eyes sparkled as they focused on him, a soft gasp sounding as his breath hitched, eye-widening. Her left eye was a shimmering forest green, but her right was a milky, clouded white. Half-blind.

"Heh....well, I'll be darned-"

Scar's voice cut off as a sob retching itself from Doc's throat, looking back to him in shock as he saw shimmering tears stream down the right side of his face, a wide grin on his lips as he bent down and brought her closer to his face, resting his forehead against hers as overjoyed sobs just kept coming. Incoherent blabbers came from his mouth, a large, shaky smile stretched across his lips as tiny hands roamed his face. They touched his cheeks, grabbed his nose, and tugged gently at his hair.

Doc felt like dying- his heart was swelling, his emotions were horrendously out of wack, he felt weak in the legs.

He looked up at Scar, his voice broken, "S-Scar...a-am I having a heart attack?" Scar sputtered, shocked, "What? Of course not-"

"T-then what IS this...this f-feeling?"

Scar blinked. Once. Twice. Then a smile of realization hit him, "That's joy, Doc. Really- Intense joy..."

"Joy...."

Doc separated his forehead from the baby's, warmth settling itself in his stomach as Scar sat closer and leaned in, "May I?" His voice was just above a whisper once again, looking to the creeper hybrid for permission, "Y-yea...go ahead..."

Scar gently took the baby from Doc's arms, cradling it in his arms and gasping softly, "She's...surprisingly light?"

"I know..."

Silence took priority in the room, Scar gently humming as he rocked the child to sleep. When the baby yawned gently and closed its eyes, the brunette spoke up again, "What are you going to name her?"

Doc thought, gazing at the sleeping baby in his friend's arms until finally, it clicked, "Amal." Scar snorted softly, looking at him, "Amal? What's that mean?"

"Well... there are many meanings but- a more common one is to have hope...to be bright, clean, pure..." Doc's gaze only softened as he spoke, making Scar's melt a little.

He wished the others could see this.

"Amal it is then..."

#docm77 #Goodtimeswithscar #hermitkiddoau #hermitcraft

72 notes · View notes

fmdjaewonarchive · 3 years

Text

► run away.

date(s): december 2020 mentions of: n/a word count: +/- 1.7k words (+/- 1k words w/ lyrics on songwriting, +/- 700 words on the composition) warnings: mentions of anxiety and general mental health problems details: full lyrics and full composition verification for run away, 2/3 verifications for jaewon’s upcoming album escapism. jaewon tries to prove he’s capable of writing music that’s worthy of the titletrack status and in doing so tries to branch out from what he’s used to, blending together what he knows works for him uncharted territory. all in all, things could have gone worse (a/n: i don’t know shit about composing pls take all of this with a grain of salt.)

by default, park jaewon is a creature of habit, prefers to find one set way to do things that works for him and deviate as little as possible from that. he likes certainty and avoiding unnecessary risk, anything to leave as little room for error as possible. making mistake might be a learning experience but not with how dead terrified jaewon is of doing things wrong, how he doesn’t know how to face failure without it determining his entire sense of selfworth.

songwriting is no different from that. most of the time jaewon writes, it’s structurally planned, deadlines and expectations to be met firmly in place, his work method like clockwork, almost mechanical. it doesn’t sound very profound, it definitely doesn’t suit the mental image most people have of the turbulent, disordered creative process of a real artist. not like jaewon can bring himself to care about whether or not his songwriting methods are deemed deep or profound enough in the eyes of other people, he had better things to care about.

like the album dimensions wanted him to write on short notice.

not that jaewon is complaining, everything but, getting his creative freedom back, it has been a long grueling process to get to this point but he is on a bit of a time crunch here. ‘our songs’ has only ended a mere couple of days ago but with a tentative release date of late winter to early spring, jaewon has his work cut out for him.

in such a time crunch, it makes sense to stick to his usual routine, go with what he is used to.

except jaewon doesn’t.

maybe ‘our songs’ has him feeling experimental for once, maybe he doesn’t want to risk falling victim to not only old habits but also old pitfalls, he’s not really sure what it is but for once, he starts with the lyrics.

that shouldn’t be very remarkable, not for most artists, but jaewon has already religiously stuck to his order of first creating an instrumental and then fitting his lyrical content to it rather than the other way around, starting from zero on that is quite the step, for him at least.

this song, it’s supposed to be title track material, to set the tone for the entire album straight away. if he gets this right by both his own standards and dimensions’, he gets to more or less free range on crafting this album to his liking. and to jaewon, lyrical content has always outweighed sound, as nice as a good beat is, it’s the content of a song that he identifies with, that he feels proudest of.

so writing a song about a breakup doesn’t seem evident.

run away, back off from me run away, far away from me

because that’s what it seems to shape up to be at first glance when he starts writing, themes of heartache, putting distance between yourself and your lover because as much as it might hurt on short notice, it will be the better option long term. and maybe it’s about that too, life isn’t clear cut one thing or the other so why should music be.

but it isn’t primarily that.

because the urge to run away isn’t an unfamiliar sensation to jaewon, it’s the thrum of anxiety under his skin, the voice in the back of his mind keeping him hyper aware of how awful of a person he is, how he fails those around him.

at the end of the day, that’s what he wants to run away from most.

if there is anyone he wants to take as much distance from as possible, it’s himself.

go away so you get out of my sight let me forget everything from your name to your face so that when I’m looking for you while i’m drunk i can’t recognize you even when you are right up close i will give up while i am looking

so maybe it is a break-up song. it’s undoubtedly a break-up song. but not about breaking off from other people.

it’s cutting ties with his past self, who he has been, with the years bitterness that have culminated in hurtful habits and patterns.

i will run away first along the torn shapes before sadness will take place and harden up i’ll run away

he’s not broken away from them completely yet. park jaewon would never have to gal to call himself a good person, it would be a bald-faced lie. but even he has to admit that there has been progress.

he might not be there yet but it’s something. that gets to be said as well right? it’s been a gruelling process so far, he gets to celebrate the small victories.

it reminds him of when he wrote ‘rebirth’ for his first album, almost two years ago at this point. back then, ‘rebirth’ had been a starting point, the turn around to doing better. sure, he wasn’t at the finish yet but he had moved forward, that was something.

something is good, a lot better than he has gotten a lot of previous years.

that in itself made it worthy of its own song really.

you’ve gone a long way into thin air the sun has gone down without looking back even once

finishing the first draft feels like a burden relieved, a weight taken off his shoulder as he has gained the perspective to reflect back on what has been.

his flaws are still plenty, he could never deny that. jaewon doubts he’ll ever grow out of all of them, some parts carved into his personality that he doubts he’ll ever be able to take them out.

but for now he’s still moving forward, still growing and everyone past scar healed over is one, one step closer to finding some semblance of peace within himself, within his own person.

all he has to do is keep running.

---------------

with a rough draft of the lyrics done, he still needs an instrumental and for that, he trades the comfort of his home studio for one of the more richly equipped ones in the dimensions headquarters. it feels a bit silly to make a distinction but jaewon always prefered writing from home and composing from within the company building, both surroundings better tailored to a different part of the creative process. or well in his experience at least.

it takes some fumbling, the kind of awkward stumble that comes with deviating from old habits and making up a plan as one goes. matching melody to lyrics rather than words to melody are most definitely not the same thing but just reversed, jaewon quickly learns the hard way, especially not in a rap track where really, the flow can make or break the whole thing.

so it’s a bit of a struggle, the first few hours fiddling around with sounds and beats that ultimately lead to nothing, that turns out he doesn’t know how to mold to his lyrics in a way that leaves him satisfied.

but like with most things in life, there is a learning curve. with every bit he scraps, he comes closer to the sound he’s actually searching for.

and jaewon makes a genuine effort to branch out, try something new for a change. much like his lyrics, his usual composing also falls victim to sticking too closely to what he’s familiar with, deep, muted sounds to convey the somber undertone of his lyrics, a slow drawl to instrumental, mainly focussing on drums and bass lines, moody and dark.

so this time, his instruments of choice are synths. different types of synths at different points, trying his best to branch out, create an instrumental that’s fun and surprisingly at all turns but in essence, when one dumbs it down, the main theme is truly just… synths.

that’s not a bad thing, it is breaching out of his comfort zone for sure. funnily enough, the more he works on it, the more the instrumental reminds him of something that could have been on his previous album. ironic, considering jaewon spent the better part of the year loathing ‘love language’ with every fiber of his being.

looking back on it with a fresh perspective, jaewon has to admit that while he didn’t like the music for himself, far too flashy and corny. but in terms of playing around with the composition and production, whoever had worked on that album (jaewon doesn’t know, it sure wasn’t him) was a lot more creative than he was.

surely he can do something like that on his own devices as well right? surely he can branch out from his typical song structure and prove he’s grown as a composer.

the bounce of the synths and the bass has a cosmic feel to it, the flow of the song twisting at every turn where sections bleed into another with bells and trinkets attached to the transitions.

for added effect, jaewon records the whistling curling around the edges of the verses that ties them to an end before shifting into the chorus himself, by the time he’s done putting them through editing it doesn’t sound all that human anymore, morphed into something more surreal sounding, blending into that not-quite terrestrial vibe that seems to arch over the song.

the drop in the chorus is hardly creative, jaewon doubts a beat drop can still be at this point but it does add to the immersion of the song, like getting your head dunked in a bath of ice water, stripping down on the whimsical rhythm patterns laced through the verses and stripping down to raw desperation of the song, the harrowing undertone of running for your life.

he adds bits and pieces like that, layer by layer, until the song itself sounds just as meticulously thought out as the lyrics rather than just a bare structure built underneath them.

when he gives the draft a final reason before sending it off to the creative department, jaewon can’t help but think he never created something that sounds so complete before.

#fmdverification #*:･ﾟ♛– «filled with all these empty moments» // solos.#//only one left thank the fucking heavens #anxiety tw #mental health tw #«escapism // era.»

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basicsofislam · 4 years

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ISLAM 101: Creation: Part 8

Why does one creature’s life depend on the death of another?

Just as the day replaces night, spring follows winter, and autumn takes the place of summer, death follows life. The Creator, Who governs everything, does nothing in vain. He creates the most beautiful and intricate beings out of the lowest, seemingly unpromising, materials. Since it is the very nature of His creation to bestow freshness and novelty continually upon His creation, and since He sets on and motivates everything to mature and develop, risings and settings necessarily succeed each in this world.

Before going further into the subject, let’s define death.

Death is not final exhaustion of nature, an annihilation that operates of itself, or a total extinction into a void. Rather, it is a transformation, a change of place, state, and dimension; a completion of service, a release from its burden, to attain peace and ease. For every living thing, it is a sort of retreat or transition to its own essence and truth. For this reason, death is as desirable as life. It is as pleasing as meeting friends, and a blessing as great as acquiring immortality.

Materialists who do not grasp death’s meaning and truth always see it as horrifying and so compose gloomy odes to it. All such people have seen and felt the same things about death, and have made the same complaints about it.

Since death is a separation from life and living, it affects our minds and those sentiments that make us human. It is impossible to deny such an influence, to silence the heart in the face of death. Death arouses considerable tumult in our hearts and minds, though it may be short-lived. Belief in the Resurrection causes all such sorrows to be forgotten, for it is like presenting a kingdom to a person who has lost everything or assuring a person about to be hanged of eternal life and happiness.

According to those who understand the real meaning of death, death is no more than a release from service, a change of abode, and a journey to where most of one’s friends have already gone. Those who do not understand this see only its horrifying surface meaning: death as an executioner, a gallows, a bottomless pit, a dark passage into the void.

When believers begin to experience death, the beauties and rewards of Heaven begin to appear before them. When unbelievers, who are deprived of this pleasure of faith, think of death, they begin to feel the torment and fire of Hell that they nurture within their conscience. Their suffering is not just limited to their own feelings, for in their hearts they also feel the grief and suffering of all those with whom they share interests, pleasures, and concerns. Their suffering and loss of happiness increase the burden of grief for whoever regards death as a final end.

Believers consider death a release from service and life’s burdens and hardships and know that everything continues to exist in other realms (in its identity as form and idea). Thus, they view death as an advancement, a perfection, an acquisition of a higher essence and nature. Since death carries the fruit of eternal existence and bliss, it is also a great blessing and a Divine gift.

However, every advancement and perfecting, every blessing and acquisition of it, must pass through preparatory stages: close examination, molding and purifying. Spiritual progress and the subsequent advancement to higher levels come only through such trials and purifications. For example, crude ores perish in the purifying furnace before they yield the pure metal. Until the ores are processed in this way, they continue to exist in soil and rock, without the metal ever being tested and then presented in its true form.

If we accept this analogy, we can understand that while death appears to be a cessation, a passing into extinction or nothingness, in reality, it is passing into a higher, more elevated mode of being. When every non-sentient particle appears to move with an eager animation toward its apparent extinction, it actually is running toward the perfection prescribed for it. When oxygen and hydrogen atoms combine, they die in their separate identities only to be reborn as water, which is essential to the vitality of all living forms. Thus we can say that death is a changing of place and form, not an end or extinction. From the tiniest particles to the greatest compounds within the universe, all changes, transformations, and decompositions result in what is most beautiful, fresh, and excellent. That is why we define death as the movement of beings to a higher mode rather than as their extinction.

In another respect, death is the time when one being resigns and hands over its affairs to its successor(s). This is enacted in the sight of Him Who has sovereignty and dominion over all things. Each creature is charged with presenting itself in a unique parade before the presence of the One Who gave it existence. Just before its parade is over, and the picture or record of it made and stored, the parade of its successor(s) begins, which relieves the parade ground of sameness and refreshes the scene with new and active beings. Each being acted out its role and moves aside so that others may appear, act out their roles, and show their skills. The freshness, liveliness, beauty, and excellent diversity is seen in creation is the result of these comings and goings.

Death also may be understood as silent advice, in the sense that nothing is self-existent. In other words, nothing can survive by itself or has permanence. A fading and ultimately dead light indicates a source of light that is unfailing and eternal. For those who grieve and complain about the transience and perishing of all things, this is a good lesson on how to mature and attain true happiness. Whatever or whoever captivates our hearts will leave us one day, which causes us to yearn for an eternal being to love and to be loved by. In our transient world, such a yearning is the first stage of moving toward or attaining eternity. Death is the mysterious uplifter that raises people to that dignity.

Given this, we can liken death to a healing hand, one that nurses to full health, that hurts us only as a doctor would hurt us: by giving a necessary inoculation or lancing, rather than a grim sword or sickle laying everything to waste. Considering death as a merely utilitarian way of making room for new generations is mistaken, for death is not absolute annihilation or extinction. Rather, what disappears does so only from within the horizons of our limited understanding, for the identity of every particular (as form and idea) continues to exist in our memories, in the Preserved Record, and in God’s all-encompassing knowledge. They also exist in different dimensions and in realms beyond those dimensions, beyond corporeal understanding. For example, seeds and flowers bloom and die, but their identity as form and idea continues in the many seeds and flowers that will bloom after them.

Consider the subject from another angle. If there were no death, would we not live in a hell of unrelieved terror as we faced an endless existence without a break or relief? How could we measure the worth or value of anyone or anything, conserve or concentrate our energy, make or carry out an intention, if time was limitless? If such a situation existed, those who now mourn the fact of transience and death would mourn their absence. Moreover, we would not experience creation’s inexhaustible variety, with all the prompts and images it gives to the human mind of beauty, freshness, and loss with renewability. How, in the absence of such a panorama of novelty within stability, could the human mind be inspired to contemplate that which lies beyond and sustains the visible world? How could we seek and worship the One who creates and provides for the whole.

Let’s deal with the subject from a different angle. If everything depended on life instead of death if beings continued to live through calamities, and if all events and life followed one direction forever, what could have happened? What could happen mean?

Basing ourselves on what we said earlier, death contains blessing and wisdom. Life without death would be such an absurdity and horrible disaster that, if such a situation could be fully described, people would cry and mourn about staying alive instead of dying.

If nothing died, neither a fly nor a human being could have lived in the early ages of this world, for ants and varieties of ivy would have invaded and occupied the entire planet. Nothing else could have survived or thrived. And later on, if no ant or ivy ever died, there would have been thick layers of them covering the Earth. As such statements cannot be disputed, we can see what a great blessing death is, and the great wisdom in allowing dead things to decompose.

How much of the Earth’s enthralling beauty and splendor could be seen with such a huge number of ivy plants and ants? What would this world, created to exhibit the splendor and magnificence of His art, be if such a situation prevailed? How could we witness the power, might, knowledge, and grace of the Creator and Owner of this world?

The absence of death also would give rise to another problem: The magnificent wisdom and order in the rule of this universe show that nothing in it was created in vain. The Absolute Owner of the physical and spiritual domains creates the most worthwhile things out of what may appear to us the most worthless, making the valueless into the priceless. New and excellent creations are engendered from the cells serving as bodily forms for His servants, especially those making up the human souls that God has recalled and holds in His realms. If the bodies, which He valued so highly that He “breathed” human souls in them, were allowed to decompose into nothing, the Creator’s Omniscient Wisdom would be contradicted. Any such notion is absolutely contrary to His Divine Honor, and so cannot be entertained.

In conclusion, all of creation, its balance, and order, the control, and administration by which its complex harmonies are sustained, is so magnificent that it inspires all people whose hearts and minds are open to the beauty and pleasure around them. The dividing, combining, and moving of atoms; the growth of plants and trees; the gushing of rivers to the sea; the oceans’ expanse, grandeur, and incalculable power; the evaporation of saltwater and its return as life-giving rain—everything races ardently from one stage to another, higher and better.

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slinkinginshadows · 4 years

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Mine

Okay, this is gonna make very little sense if you haven’t read IZ issue 49, but I’m throwing it over here because I’m not putting it on main. I think Zi//b’s growth was seriously stunted by the Pak and he’s actually 17 or 18 now, not just for porn purposes but because it honestly makes everything about him more tragic.

Very quick rundown: Zim and Dib are rivals. Zim’s an alien whose brain is stored in a computer on his back. This version of Dib killed Zim and put that computer on his own head. It made him... not quite right, and after conquering and accidentally wiping his own Earth from existence he’s currently fooling a bunch of other Zims from alternate dimensions that he lured there in part of a plan to purge every universe in them multiverse of his species. (The Elites are 100 of his best fighters, they think he’s the ‘ultimate Zim’.) ‘Smeet’ is the alien word for baby.

Warnings: Mating heat, size difference, very brief mention of considered abortion, technically underage pregnancy, birth kink.

Wordcount: 2665

It was hot in here.

It was never hot in here. It was always perfectly regulated because he'd set up the system like that. It was hot in the Zim suit sometimes, but he only put that on when he needed to, and it was currently set up in the corner, standing in a salute with boots clicked together and synthetic flesh just a shade too shiny. (Not like any of the Zims would notice. Although they might, they could be smart. Or not. He'd see.)

He shrugged off his coat, hanging it up on the throne. Then hanging it on the arm of the throne. Then wondering when he'd started sitting in a puddle of sweat, and why it smelled like syrup. (Why was it faintly pink? It shouldn't be pink. Sweat wasn't pink. It was definitely the lighting.)

He pressed his legs together- he hadn't had to go to the bathroom in ages, the Pak regulating all his bodily functions to get maximum use from any food he consumed. (Whenever he did eat, which wasn't as often anymore. Irken tech was fascinating, he couldn't wait until the next Zim kicked the bucket and they handed the corpse off to dissect. Tearing apart each newly dead Zim's Pak helped him to tweak his own.)

"What is that?" Hopping off the throne, he began to pace, feeling the front of his pants before realizing it was absolutely soaked. "Fuck." He yanked his pants down, almost getting them tangled on his boots as they revealed his underwear was more pink than white, taffy-colored-and-scented ooze spreading from his... his... every time he looked at it, his brain nearly tore in half, screaming about the alien junk that had split his old genitals. It was more flexible and self-lubricating as well as just as sensitive, but it was also very, very not human.

Okay, he could handle this. Of course he could handle this, he'd conquered an entire planet, had squished his Zim like the bug he was. He could deal with the entrance below his new cock secreting sweet-smelling lubricant. He leaned against the wall, pulling back into the Pak for some kind of answer.

The one he got was.... not ideal.

"Are you kidding me?" He yanked at his hair spikes, dozens of tiny painful pinpricks washed out by the horrific realization that his body was about to become his worst enemy.

Heat. A rare condition, but one that apparently his Zim had suffered from. Luckily Dib had never been a mature irken when they were fighting, but the Pak considered his body one now, and... his eyes slowly dragged down to the slick between his legs.

___________

He had, at best, a day before he lost his mind entirely. Already, his brain's higher functions were beginning to shut down, considering he was even... well, considering this.

It had to be one of the Elites. The idea of having one of his army scoop up a rebel to be discarded after was tempting, but they needed to be perfect. If he had to do this, he would do it right, with the best Zim of the lot. Number Two was an obvious choice, but he was too perfect for the Virus plan. He could brainwash him afterwards, easy enough, but... he wasn't forceful enough. Something ached inside of him, and he just knew Number Two wouldn't fill it properly.

Cat Zim? Tempting, but be could be fussier than the others. Skater Zim? He hated his voice. Shark Zim had some bite to him, but he'd like to keep his head- if his Pak was destroyed, he'd lose his connection to his machines and to the plan. None of them were right, none of them were as good as his Zim.

Down the list, down the list, until- yes, that would do nicely.

___________

Number 100 had to bend as he practically crawled into the room, and Dib smirked from where he peeked out from behind the throne, saliva beginning to well up in his mouth at every over-toned muscle.

He might not be able to walk for a few days, but it would be worth it. Already, his mind was chewing itself up, burning and biting to be taken.

"Number One wanted Big Zim?"

A new recruit, he'd only crashed a week or two ago but had risen in the ranks like a shot. He was all brawn and no brains, and the way his shirt rippled with every breath... "Yes, he does." It was simple enough to lock down the chamber with a single button, a wall slamming down in front of the door and shields soundproofing the rest.

"Voice... different. Voice Dib!" 100 moved to smash down on the floor until his antennae perked up. "Hmm... Big Zim smells a nice thing..."

"That's me." He swayed his hips as he walked around the throne, and 100's eyes widened.

"Dib... Zim?" He scratched his head. "Big Zim doesn't understand."

"You don't need to. Pants off."

"Big Zim wears tight-"

"Now!" Dib barked out, and Big Zim ripped his pants off in a single motion, dropping the fabric to the side. Stars, he couldn't take much more of this. He'd balled up his coat to use as a pillow and spread his legs.

"You want Big Zim to- ooooh." A big grin crossed 100's face. The ground shook when he dropped to his knees, grabbing Dib and holding him like a human-sized stress ball.

Somehow, it was way hotter than it had any right to be. Still, he needed to be the one in control. "Fuck me. That's an order."

"Fuck?"

"Gah- like this!" Dib slid from 100's hands, sweet slick already dragged across his palm, before maneuvering himself over the tentacle. As he balanced on the beefy irken's thighs, the interlocking worm-like tendrils that covered his entrance slowly began to open up. "O-oh..." His skin was on fire, but his thighs were dunked in lava, every inch of him burning as he clung to 100's forearms. 100 thrust up, shoving the tendrils all the way out of the way and nearly impaling Dib on his cock.

Dib saw stars. His vision went white, and the back of his head started frantically buzzing as the Pak dealt with the sensory overload when 100 pulled back and thrust again. By the third one, Dib's knees were jelly and he was panting like a marathon runner, held up only by 100's arm that he'd wrapped around his waist.

Mate mate fuck reproduce breeding breed get bred he is Taller take it take it breed

His toes curled in his boots, and he gasped out "Harder!" 100 complied, and how. He certainly knew how to do what he was told, a good trait in someone Dib needed to use. Maybe he'd even keep this one as a toy, maybe maybe maybe-

Dib's shirt was soaked in pink before he even realized he'd come, overstimulated and blissed out on 100's pounding as he was. He had only seconds for his mind to begin to clear of heat before 100 came himself, filling the entrance with thick, sticky cum. Dib couldn't move, pinned between 100's arm and his chest, and he came for so long, he must be spilling back out because there was no way there was enough room inside of him. He squirmed, but 100 nuzzled against the top of his head.

"Good Dib-Zim, smelled nice, felt nice..."

Maybe it was the lingering heat. Maybe it was because he hadn't had contact with anyone since months before this place had turned into a void.

He curled against 100 and ordered him to serve as a bed for the next few hours, even as sticky as they both were. He was warm, especially in his middle, but the teeth gnawing his brain were gone, so he simply shed his shirt and tugged his coat back on. This was fine, humans needed a bit of physical contact now and then, and this would be wiped from 100's mind before he left. He'd dealt with the heat. Everything was under control.

_____________

This was impossible.

He clutched at his shirt. "Run the scan again!"

"Scanning, Number One." The computer beamed a light over him again. It was just a glitch with it. It had to be. There was no way- "There is a zygote inside of you, Number One."

Dib slumped back on the throne. He could- he could just get rid of it. That would be the easiest course- his body wasn't meant for this. Some of the parts were, clearly, but not all of them. He was human, human and still short because of the stupid Pak stunting his growth but capable of holding this new life because he was made more perfect from it.

But...

A hand rose to rub the side of his Pak.

He could make a new Zim. One as good as his old one, one that lit that spark. He'd be part Dib, and worthy enough, but he could use the brainwashing tech to mold him exactly how he wanted if he didn't fall in line. A perfect Zim, a perfect second in command.

His fingers hooked under the hem of his shirt and he pulled it upwards, staring at his stomach. Still flat. Still looking human.

Not for long.

He needed to start giving his announcements over the intercom.

______________

It grew like a weed. Stifling his insides, smothering his organs as it shoved everything out of the way to have space. Surely a Zim, through and through. He ordered that seats be torn out of the crashed Voots and piled at the door. He paced. Shoving the seats together, he curled up on them, fingers digging into the soft material as his body worked with and without him to build up the hybrid.

He craved foods that would definitely kill him and drooled over engine oil when he was fixing up one of the fleet's Voots. It was halfway to his lips before he chucked it away, spilling some of the precious material but not caring because why did he want to drink engine oil. Human and irken signals crossed, human body unsure how to handle the parasite while the irken running through his veins coaxed heat from elsewhere, leaving him shivering while his belly burned.

His head hurt. The wires of the Pak dug into his brain heated up at random times, and it felt like someone had jabbed a hot poker directly into his occipital lobe, and then another one right next to it.

Pain was nothing. Pain was just his body trying to tell him he couldn't do this.

He couldn't do this.

Yes, he could.

His body was going to realize it wasn't meant for this and kill it.

His body was the perfect vessel, knowing exactly what it needed.

If he left his hand on his stomach for too long, his throat seized like he was going to throw up.

Thank every star in the multiversal sky that he'd installed that soundproofing, because if he had to hear the Elites training and their Zim-ish voices day in and day out he was going to strangle one of them.

Or kiss one of them, either-or, because listening for too long made his stomach twist with white-hot want and listening only to his own heartbeat was worse.

It was probably just because the other father was a Zim too. Base instinct, to want the mate. They weren't his mate, but this smeet-child was his. His alone. Big Zim had been properly brainwashed and sent on his way. This was a wrench in the works but one Dib could work with, yes, a wrench he could twist to give him something he hadn't expected but that worked perfectly.

His stomach swelled, and he realized he couldn't fit in the Zim-suit anymore. He'd tailored it to himself before and... well, he wasn't the him he was before now. No matter, he didn't need it. They thought he was their god, the perfect Zim.

He'd had one, so he could play the part the same as always, just from behind a screen.

It started kicking after two months. The computer said gestation was halfway complete. He'd started having food delivered to his chambers because he was getting dizzy if he didn't eat.

It jutted from below his ribs, too round, like a curled dragon inside his belly ready to tear his skin on its way to freedom. It was strong. Good, good, it needed to be strong. It would be his to keep once he burned through Zims, helping to cleanse the universe.

A wall wasn't enough. He needed an entire planet between himself and the others, because every cell in his body screamed for closeness to the irkens in the other room. He slammed the fire buttons, but seeing them burnt through the cameras only made him nauseous instead of amused the way he'd always been before.

The brainwashing tech wasn't ready for a mass scale yet. He couldn't let them see. If he let one in to touch and hold and be with, that would be weak. He dug his nails into his palms and bit his lip and rocked himself on the Voot seats that still smelled of Zim.

He assembled a Pak from the extras, from the corpses of former Zims, life from death from life. He paced until pacing for more than a minute made his swelling ankles sore, and kicked his bare feet around instead once the boots felt too stifling and the socks were too sweaty. Lounging shirtless was nice for about five minutes until having to look at his own body was more of a punishment than a joy.

An irken hybrid. Creation from his own body, life from nothing. The night before it was born, sharp-tipped fingers ran up the squirming length of his cock as he rubbed it against his stomach, jutting out the way it was. He was something entirely new, and making something even newer than that. Too bad everyone who used to laugh at him was turned to atoms, they wouldn't be laughing now. No one would be laughing. He was doing something great.

The Pak pulsed him awake and he groaned, before his stomach flipped and he groaned for an entirely different reason.

Time was a lie, in the void. Even so, the cramps took hours upon hours to turn into anything, for liquid to gush as he desperately tried to coax the tendrils open and started making his legs twitchy and his cheeks hot in the process.

As the Pak's painkillers stalled, he began to squeeze his length, the entrance relaxing as more slick poured from it and movement inched downwards. His heels dug into the plush cushion of the nest, and his throat let out a whine as his palm slid up and down the cock. Every urge to push, he gave another stroke.

"Mine..." he choked out as it curled around his fingers, already dripping precum as the weight in his stomach dropped further.

It could have been days before the head reached his entrance for all he knew, edging himself by slowing down so he wouldn't lose control, but when it pressed against the lips, he dug his nail into one of the ridges and cried out, giving the hardest push yet.

His free hand dug into the cushion as he came, and the head popped through with a rush of pain and pleasure mixed into one. He peeled his shirt off, chucking it away to finish the job, and after another time that could have been ten minutes and could have been two hours, he was clicking the Pak into place on the smeet's back.

It had chocolate-brown eyes and when it opened them and gave a gummy smile, he realized that he had absolutely no idea what to do now.

#shadow writes stuff #mpreg #birth kink #lemon #iz/#mpreg fic

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kusunogatari · 4 years

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[ Portal Peril || Chapter Five ] [ @abyssaldespair ] [ Uchiha Obito, Suigin Ryū, Namikaze Minato, Hatake Kakashi, Nohara Rin, Uzumaki Kushina ] [ Verse: White Hands of Healing ] [ Previous || Next ]

Four days. Four days of waiting, agonizing, worrying. Though Rin, and even Kushina have been doing their best to keep the interdimensional traveler distracted from thinking about her circumstances, it’s rather hard to avoid. Any moment she’s left to idle in her thoughts, they always circle back. In all honesty, her biggest worry is Obito. Her Obito. Is he all right? Is he handling her absence without panicking? She can only imagine how he felt, going into Kamui and finding her missing...especially given how impossible that is. Is he trying to get her back?

She knows he’s intelligent enough to eventually puzzle out what happened, and if she knows anything about him...it’s that he hasn’t stopped trying since he figured it out. Just like this Obito and Kakashi have been working to reopen the window between their dimensions. They’ve both been running themselves ragged. In a way she feels guilty, but Minato remains convinced it’s a high priority: having someone from another timeline in their own risks opening up paradoxes and exposing them to events they should never realize transpired. She’s been extra careful to avoid broaching topics that might influence - in any small way - this timeline she was never meant to see.

“So...there was a fourth war…?” Kushina murmurs as they sit around and carefully exchange stories.

“Mhm...and it was by far the bloodiest of them all. Every major country was involved against a...common enemy.”

“Can you imagine?” Rin wonders aloud, leaning back in her chair with folded arms. “What kind of event could unite us after so much division?”

Ryū, of course, doesn’t explain. Even if it was excusable to do so...painting Obito in such a light when their own is so different could be cruel. “It was a fierce battle...but in the end, they overcame it. It’s been less than two years since then, so change is still slow...but so far, it’s been steady.”

“Did you participate?”

“...er...no. I was...recovering from grave injuries at the time. Believe me...I was disappointed. I wanted nothing more than to help, but I’d have been useless. I couldn’t even properly mold chakra.”

“Wow...must have been some wounds!”

“...yeah.” Subconsciously, Ryū rubs at a spot on her arm - now marless - that once bore one of the largest scars from her stint in Root’s torture chamber.

“But you obviously recovered…?”

“...you could say that. I had to use a rather...dangerous technique. But it paid off, in the end.”

“I still can’t believe you have sage training,” Rin offers in the subsequent silence, looking almost disappointed. “I’d love to do something like that…”

“Well...maybe before I leave, I can point you in the right direction,” Ryū replies with a small smile. “I just don’t want to risk you running into other me if you go. And...well, I’m not sure how shishō would react.”

“Yeah, that’s fair.” Rin seems to mull that over for a while. “There’s so much more I wish I could know...but even with what little I do, it sounds like your timeline’s a lot more…”

“Depressing,” Kushina offers dryly.

“Yeah. Makes me think I don’t really want to know.”

Ryū hesitates a moment. It’s hard to remember that, where she comes from, both of them are long dead. “...I think some things are better left unsaid.”

...she’s going to miss them when she goes home.

...if she goes home.

There’s still a lingering fear, the more time goes on, that she won’t ever make it home. Four days have already passed...and who knows how many more will be needed before she can return. As much as she tries not to think about it, Ryū can’t help but be haunted by it.

“Ryū-san.”

Looking up from her plate (Rin insisting they spend each evening with her teacher and his family), Ryū hums in question.

Minato thinks for a moment. “...your sage training involves gathering chakra, correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I was wondering if you are able to then transmit that chakra to others.”

She blinks. “Well, I’ve...done so in small doses in the past. Why?”

“Our biggest limiting factor, for the moment, has been chakra. Both Kakashi and Obito can only use Kamui for so long before exhausting themselves, especially given how draining a technique of that level is. I was wondering if I could convince you to go with them tomorrow and act as a sort of...battery. To help extend how long they’ll be able to keep working on the portals.”

That gets Ryū to brighten. Why hadn’t she thought of that? “I...of course! That’s a great idea.”

“Perfect. Then if you’d accompany Obito tomorrow in the morning, I believe his shift is first. Of course you’ll both still need breaks to rest, but I’m hoping it will greatly improve productivity.”

“It should, yes. I’ll do that.”

Ryū then helps tidy up afterward, chatting nonchalantly with Kushina as Minato and his team discuss the happenings back at the table.

“Are you sure you’re up for this, dear?”

She glances to the Uzumaki questioningly. “Huh?”

“Well, I don’t mean to pry, but it’s rather obvious you haven’t been sleeping too well,” Kushina offers. “Which of course I understand...you’re stressed, after all. But I’d hate for you to push yourself too hard and make things worse.”

That makes the healer go quiet, thoughtfully toweling off a clean dish. “...I am tired, yes...but I’m also desperate to get home. If wearing myself out will up our odds, then...I’ll gladly do so.”

That gets Kushina to sigh, dunking a dish a bit forcefully. “You medics’re all the same...Rin’s always working until she conks out like a cut light bulb whenever she gets really into something. It’s like y’get so caught up in helping everybody else, you forget to help yourself! You’ll get home, I’m sure of it. And I get wanting to help. I can’t stop you. But don’t forget there’s people who’ll worry if you hurt yourself trying, hm?”

“...I know. Um...thanks.”

The warning makes her realize...Obito doesn’t have that guiding hand right now. Nor does he have a Kakashi to split his time with. How badly is he faring…? If he can keep that up...then she can at least do this…!

They return to Rin’s apartment once everything’s done, Ryū lying awake and staring at the ceiling. If anything, she feels like tomorrow will do her some good. Being so idle has been driving her mad, no matter how busy Rin tries to keep her. Minato decided it wasn’t wise for her to get caught up working in the hospital, so being without her typical job or...really anything else to do has left her about to go stir crazy.

Her eagerness, however, is tempered by a body that finally outweighs her mind, falling into a decent sleep for the first time since she arrived here. She wakes groggily, a bit disoriented after resting so hard.

“Hey, sleepyhead! Ready to head out and meet Obito?”

Though she should be used to it by now, the name brings a small pang to her chest. “...yeah.”

They grab breakfast on the way, leaving Konoha behind and heading out toward the proper road. Rin chatters away mostly aimlessly, Ryū a bit lost in thought. She hasn’t been out here since she arrived. Please, just...let today be the day. I don’t know how much longer I can be patient…

When they arrive, they find themselves alone. Rin plants hands on her hips. “Eh, should have known...he’s always late.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. He’s always getting caught up in some errand or another, seems like.”

“...what about Kakashi?”

“He’s fairly prompt. Why?”

“...just curious.” Yet another thing that seems so...backwards.

Fifteen minutes later, they hear a voice up the road, Obito landing beside them with a sheepish grin. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine, I explained your habitual tardiness,” Rin assures him, arms crossing and giving him a knowing, exasperated smile. “So, want me to stick around?”

“Well...whatever you think. I guess there won’t be much for you to do, and I can keep an eye on Ryū-san.”

“Hm…” Rin mulls it over. “...maybe I’ll head back and see if sensei needs help with anything. Haven’t had a chance to do that in a while.”

Ryū can’t help but shrink a bit, looking guilty. “Sorry…”

“Nah, it’s fine. Job’s a job! Just might as well do something else if there’s not much to be done here, hm? Good luck, guys!” With that, the Nohara starts making her way back toward the village.

That leaves Ryū and Obito.

“...well, ready to give this a shot?” he asks, turning to her a bit awkwardly.

She nods. “Sure. Give me a few minutes to build up some energy. Um...I guess in the meantime, go ahead and get started?”

“Sounds good.” Facing the proper direction, Obito concentrates, his one dark eye shifting red. Tomoe then spin until the design of his Mangekyō forms. There’s a surge of chakra, and Ryū watches as a familiar glance into Kamui opens just before them.

...but no sign of the other dimension beyond.

Realizing she’s wasting time, Ryū then gives a small shake of her head. Evening her breath, her energies begin to balance...and then open to the energy around her. Nature chakra begins to pool with her own, swelling her reserves to their maximum capacity. Pupils then narrow to slits as the chakra influences her biology.

Letting his first attempt release, Obito glances to her and startles slightly. “...whoa! I guess that means, uh...you’re good to go?”

“Mhm. It’s easiest to transfer energy over a direct connection, so…” After a small pause, she rests a hand along his upper arm, letting some chakra travel between them. “Did you feel that?”

“Yeah! It’s...warm,” he notes, giving her hand a glance.

“Don’t worry, it won’t get any warmer than that,” she assures him.

“Okay...got it.” Regathering his focus, Obito shifts his target slightly, and gives Kamui another try.

Over...and over...and over again.

After two straight hours, Ryū advises he take a break. Chakra between the two of them is holding up well, but his eye is starting to feel fatigued.

“Any blurriness in your vision?” she asks, looking at the eye carefully.

“Uh...maybe a little. But it always goes away. Just need to give it a breather, that’s all. Otherwise I feel great! Hardly tired at all. Which, uh...is quite the change, honestly.”

Ryū hums, thinking. “...I guess it might be the effects of my line’s chakra. It’s most suited for healing, so even beyond keeping you energized, it might help a bit with any other feelings beyond weariness.”

“Guess that makes sense.” Obito takes out a canteen, taking a few swallows before offering it over.

“No thank you, I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

“Mhm.”

He studies her for a moment. “...you sure you’re okay?”

There’s a pause, and then Ryū heaves a sigh. “Just...worried. About getting home. Everyone seems so convinced that it’s going to happen, and soon...and yet the days just keep passing. And it’s not that I don’t have faith in you all. But like Minato-sama said...it’s going to be so hard to get to align properly...to get it just right...and without being able to coordinate both sides, those odds are just…” She fades into silence, elbows on her bent knees as she sits. Her brow buries into her palms.

Obito hesitates, clearly not sure how to handle this. “...I mean...yeah, mathematically, it’s...a bit daunting. But you said it yourself: the other Obito’s going to be working his ass off trying to get to you! And we’ve been going from sunup to sundown. That alone has to count for something, right…?”

She doesn’t answer.

“...and, I mean...has it really been so bad, being here?” he dares to hint, tone a bit hesitant. “I mean...you’ve been getting along really well with everyone! Sensei, his wife, our team...I know it’s only been a few days, but...you fit right in. I know Rin’s loved having you around. You two click like nobody’s business. Even Kakashi tolerates you, and that’s saying something.”

In spite of herself, Ryū looses a small snort, but doesn’t move.

“...we’re really gonna miss you when you go,” Obito then admits softly. “And I mean...I know you keep talking about the other Obito. And I get it. But...you haven’t really mentioned anything else. Maybe Kakashi once or twice, but...is there...anything else you want to get back to?”

Ryū’s eyes flicker over the patch of ground between her knees, not having an answer.

“I don’t mean to pry. But I mean...just seems a little odd that you’re really only gunning for this for one person, you know? Don’t you have any friends, or...family?”

“...no family,” she manages to reply quietly. “My mother died when I was small. And I...never knew my father. No siblings. No aunts, uncles, cousins. And I’ve...I’ve never really been good at making friends.”

“What, really? You? Look how well you’ve settled in here! Just in a few days you’ve won us all over!” Obito tries to catch her eyes, attempting a smile. “I mean...is it really so bad here?”

“...I…”

“And like you said...your village might still be here. Maybe you do have family left. There’s no way to know until you look, right?”

“But...but if I am there, then...then it would…”

“I know, I’m just...throwing out ideas.” Obito braces his forearms on his knees, hands clasped as he sighs. “...we’re just...really gonna miss you. And I mean…” He hesitates, looking torn as a tooth nibbles the scar on his lip. “You said it yourself: this timeline’s lost a lot less than yours. I dunno what exactly that means. And I get why you can’t tell us. But isn’t that, y’know...encouraging?”

Ryū stiffens a hair.

“...and, uh...there’s...y’know…” A hand spares to itch at his neck, clearly trying to sort out his words before he says them. “...there is an...an Obito here. So, I mean...maybe -”

Teeth gritting, Ryū heaves herself to her feet, walking swiftly several paces from their resting spot.

...well, crap.

Jolting a bit in surprise at her immediate reaction, Obito leans back a bit, blinking a wide eye. Well that...wasn’t what he expected, in all honesty. “H...hey! Wait, I...I didn’t mean that…! I mean, it’s not that I -?” After a pause, he wilts with an exhale. “...I…”

Coming to a stop a ways down the road, Ryū lets her arms tighten around her middle, jaw clenched and fighting back all sorts of unsavory emotions. Instead, she stares at the spring nearby the road...the one she and Obito had stopped at on their way back. When they were ambushed. Maybe if they’d just kept on their way...so many ifs, so many buts. And for now, nothing to show for them, either way.

All the while, Obito just sits, chewing his lip and debating how to fix this. It wasn’t that he meant he was some sort of...replacement. That just feels...odd. And yet...well…

He sighs, dragging a hand down his face. How to explain it. After all, it’s only been four days. And he hasn’t even seen her that much. Maybe it’s just some stupid idea in the back of his mind, given that - apparently - they’ve meshed so well in another timeline. Just his imagination getting carried away with him. But...he really does enjoy her company. They only really get to speak when he’s off and Kakashi’s taking a turn at things, resting and getting ready for a new attempt to open the portal back up. But she really is a kind person. Soft-spoken, gentle, chiding...and yet obviously friendly. True, she’s been rather distracted for the entirety of her unintended visit, but even then, he’s been watching how she interacts with everyone else. And there’s just something about it...something about her.

And now he’s gone and completely ruined things.

“Is...everything okay?”

Glancing over, Obito flattens in expression as he spies Kakashi. “A little early, aren’t you?”

“Sensei wanted to check and see how the chakra exchange was working. But it doesn’t really look like you’re doing much of that at the moment,” Kakashi retorts, brows lifting a bit.

“No kidding.”

“What’d you do?”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“Then what did you say that you shouldn’t have said?”

“I -! It just -! I didn’t -!”

The Hatake then waves a hand. “...I have a pretty good guess. Getting carried away as always, are you?”

Obito doesn’t reply, just crossing his arms with a sigh.

“...she can’t stay, Obito. She doesn’t even want to. I don’t think a handful of days is going to convince anyone to leave their lives behind. And you’ve seen how distraught she is over this. Did you really think you could just convince her to give that all up?”

“...that’s not what I meant...I just…” Obito throws up his hands in a gesture of frustration. “...I didn’t mean to choose to give it up, and just...pretend her other life never happened. I meant more in a, hey, if we can’t get you home, then...y’know…”

Kakashi sighs, clapping a hand atop his teammate’s shoulder. “...well, I know you meant well, but...I’m not sure she’s quite ready to hear that, yet. She’s still hanging on to a hope that she can make it back.”

“...do you really think we’ll get it?”

“...we have to keep trying. Four days is hardly a proper effort, all things considered. But, uh...maybe we should swap for a bit. Let her cool down. Just...go say you’re sorry, and that you’re an idiot, and that I’ll take over from here for a bit, hm?”

Obito’s expression sours a bit, but...he relents. “...you really suck at giving advice.”

“Never said I didn’t.”

Sighing, Obito glances to where Ryū is still standing off the road. “...all right. I’ll...come back later.”

“Sure.”

Heaving to his feet, Obito hesitates a moment before making his way over, a bit unsure how to repeat what he told Kakashi in a way that will hopefully make her less upset. Once he’s near enough, he offers, “Look, I...uh…”

“...I know what you meant.”

He pauses. “...you do?”

“...I know how hopeless this all seems.” Her tone warbles, and Obito’s brow wilts in sympathy as she clearly struggles to keep it together. “I just...I can’t give up...not until we’ve tried everything…” For a moment longer she stares at the water, and then turns to give him a glance with watery greys. “...I can’t tell you everything he’s been through. Everything we’ve been through. But the thought of giving up on that...it...I can’t. I just can’t…”

“...I didn’t mean to make light of that,” Obito murmurs, avoiding her eyes as both guilt at his insensitivity and embarrassment at seeing her cry makes him nervous. “I guess I just wanted you to know that...that you’re welcome here. You have a place here, if...if you need it. But it’s not what you want, and...I get that. I’m sorry.”

Watching him quietly, Ryū softens. “...and I don’t mean to make light of you,” she offers, tone somber. “You’re...you’re a very nice man. And I can already tell that you’re funny, and optimistic, and determined to do what’s right. It’s not that I...that I don’t…” She hesitates. “...I’ve already made a choice. And after everything...there’s no taking it back. I’m sorry.”

“No! No, don’t...don’t be sorry,” Obito insists, waving hands. “I...I’m just an idiot. And...I’ll just...give Kakashi a crack at things, okay? So you can, uh...y’know. I’ll just...give you a break.”

“Obito, you don’t need to -?”

“I just…” He hesitates, and then wilts. “...I guess now I understand why he’d come to love you so much.”

Taken aback, Ryū’s eyes widen slightly. But before she can offer a reply, there’s a holler from up the road.

“Uh...guys? I...think I found something.” Staring into his Kamui portal, Kakashi goes stock still as a rather...interesting sight looks back.

I like to call this: the awkward chapter, bahaha~ Where we have the actual crossing of wires between other!Obito and Ryū. Poor guy...words are hard. He wasn't trying to offend you Ryū! He's just a lil tongue-tied...and maybe a little crushy, huehue~ But otherwise...we've got a CLIFFY! Which...won't be one for long, given I'm posting this all now, lol - buuut either way, thanks for reading!

#abyssaldespair #uchiha obito #suigin ryū #namikaze minato #hatake kakashi #nohara rin #uzumaki kushina #white hands of healing [ canon verse ]

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cowardsanctuary · 5 years

Text

fellas it’s theory time

is it theory time? it’s theory time.

In Inanimate Insanity (and other object shows I think?), objects are more often than not given abilities that correspond to what object they are. However, I’ve started to notice that some objects seem to have powers that... don’t necessarily suit what kind of object they are. Often these are for gags, but seem to be recurring nonetheless.

I’d like to posit that certain objects have superpowers. Not all of them are particularly noteworthy or beneficial, but something to keep in mind is that not everything is a “power.” Sometimes it’s just something they can do.

Could it be this deep? Probably not. But It Could Be.

Here are my theories under the cut!

I’m going to list everyone alphabetically, with this format:

Related Abilities: > These are things they are capable of because of the type of object they are.

Unrelated Abilities: > These are things they are capable of most likely due to skill development or personality.

Powers: > These are unexplainable magick-y things they can just. Do.

If an ability is bolded, that means it’s something I’m hypothesizing in earnest. If an ability is bolded* with an asterisk, that means it’s canonical. If an ability is italicized, it’s a jape that I’m making for the goofs.

Baxter:

Related Abilities: > Crab*: He is a crab. > Oh God: He Is Just A Little Man.

Box: Related Abilities: > Box*: He is a box.

Powers: > Nonliving: I don’t think he’s even alive????

Cobs: Related Abilities: > Dying - Cobs has the capability of perishing.

Unrelated Abilities: > Bastard^10 - Oh God Is He A Bastard > Extreme Intelligence*: He is vastly intelligent and skilled in the realm of engineering, but like an asshole bastard he invents Living Androids and still has the gall to give them planned obsolescence. I Hate Him.

Powers: > Being a little bitch: It’s unbelievable how much of a little bitch he is

Dough: Related Abilities: > Moldability* - Being a ball of dough, his shape can be molded and remolded within his material’s capabilities. In his debut episode, it appears that he can control this ability to some extent. It is unknown if mixing him with anything affects him in any way, especially since he’s dead now.

Unrelated Abilities: > Bastard - He is legitimately a bastard man.

Powers: > Ghost* - He’s fucking dead

Fan: Related Abilities: > Openable* - Like, y’know, a fan, he can open and close himself. Doing that allows him to pick up the breeze or stop doing that so he doesn’t fly into the sun.

Unrelated Abilities: > Being a Nerd* - Holy shit he’s an oblivious nerd and I love him > Blogging* - Not really a unique ability, but he’s more experienced with it than others because he. Does the it.

Powers: > None that I can observe.

Marshmallow: Related Abilities: > Edible* - Marshmallow, being a marshmallow, can be eaten. Like a kumquat! However, if you eat all of her, what the fuck man.

Unrelated Abilities: > Perfect Pitch* - Marshmallow can recognize and produce the absolute pitch of a musical note without reference (the production of such hinging on her range, however). As a (REALLY GOOD) soprano, she can also reach pitches shatteringly high. > Oh God Is Anything Real Anymore - Please Help Her

Powers: > (Unrefined) Anti-Gravity* - Most apparent in the 1st season, Marshmallow can inexplicably defy gravity, though sometimes this occurs outside of her control. (I’d like to think this is also why the Cherries accidentally catapulted her so far...) Apparently she’s been learning some pointers from Balloon! Though, since going to the mansion, I assume she’s going to need some pointers from Bow and Dough instead...

Microphone: Related Abilities: > Electrical Manipulability* - It’s less that she can control electricity outside her body, but more that she’s made with and extremely susceptible to the use of electricity on and/or near her. In Breaking the Ice, Microphone can be seen shorting out as she falls into the water.

> Simple Volume Control* - When she powers herself on, Microphone can increase her volume to tangible, and even harmful, levels. She returns to normal volume when powered off. She doesn’t seem to have much control outside of that (idk if she has, like, a volume knob or anything), but she knows how to use it effectively. > Refined Gain/Loss* - Like the comic! With a knob on her back, Microphone can increase and decrease the sensitivity of her hearing. She uses this to either tone people out or listen to quiet sounds (up close or far away)—most notably, Taco.

Unrelated Abilities: > music nerd* - she lov the musik > Lesbian - g, . . irl s., ????????

Powers: > None that aren’t related to her object.

OJ: Related Abilities: > “Rigid” Container* - OJ gets his namesake by having the Juice inside of Him. Since he’s basically a glass cup, he is capable of storing anything that can fit inside both him and his opening. However, OJ is prone to becoming dazed or ill if his Juice is diluted or lost—thus, being a “rigid” container rather than being just a container. It is unknown how liquids other than water affect him (since dilution is adding water to something, unless otherwise specified). > Shatterable* - OJ can crack and shatter, as demonstrated multiple times throughout Season 1 (and 2?) > Quasi-edible* - His Juice can be slurped. This does not kill him, but if he’s already dead, what the fuck, man.

Unrelated Abilities: > Straight Man - NO i don’t mean orientation—despite being acidic (SLAP), OJ tends to be a basic, everyday man. He’s debatably one of the most normal of contestants, simply being a guy who’s doing his thing (as opposed to being “normal” as his quirky personality trait).

Powers: > Winning a million dollars - Suck it Taco [THIS POST WAS WRITTEN BY OJ GANG]

Paper: > He’s a dom

Pepper: Related Abilities: > Container* - She’s a pepper shaker, I hope she has pepper in her? She can also presumably store other things inside her that fit, though this hasn’t been done. > Shatterable* - I can’t remember which episode this was, but either Salt or Pepper has been shattered in the past? Assuming both are made of similar materials, Pepper’s container may be made of glass or plastic.

Unrelated Abilities: > Being a Teenager - like, like like like, like

Powers: > None that I can observe.

Salt: Related Abilities: > Container* - In a Season 1 episode opener, she mentions fears of bad luck after being tipped over and spilling salt. So yes, she has salt, I hope. However, besides the superstition, it doesn’t seem that she was bothered by losing a small amount of salt...? She can also presumably store other things inside her that fit, though this hasn’t been done. > Shatterable* - (copy-pasted from Pepper) I can’t remember which episode this was, but either Salt or Pepper has been shattered in the past? Assuming both are made of similar materials,Salt’s container may be made of glass or plastic.

Unrelated Abilities: > Being a Teenager - like like, oh my GOD, like

Powers: > None that I can observe.

Taco: Related Abilities: > Retractable Arms* - I mean, they don’t stretch out or anything, but Taco can hide her arms in her shell. Like a turtle. I guess it’s because of all the stuff in there?? > Shatterable* - As of Episode 13, it’s shown (but not mentioned) that Taco can crack her shell. > “Rigid” Container - A bit of an extension of Retractable Arms and her ~speshul power~, Taco can most likely stuff other things into her body. However, like OJ and Test Tube, removing what comes naturally with her body (lettuce & tomatoes and junk) or adding onto such could make her feel ill. (Thus the addition of “rigid:” she can contain things, but what she comes with is best!) No one has tried, so we don’t know for sure.

Unrelated Abilities: > Extreme Intelligence* - Taco is most likely the most intelligent and savvy of all past contestants, playing a persona to get the furthest in Season 1, and exhibiting enough knowledge to recreate and improve Test Tube’s inventions in Season 2. She seems to almost always have a plan... > Above-average Athleticism* - damn bitch she runn. In Inanimate Smackdown, she kind of just. Destroyed everyone. Yikes > Small - she’s small

Powers: > Hammerspace - hear me out on this. Throughout Season 1, Taco has been shown to be able to swallow an extraordinarily large amount of things (of various sizes) unharmed, and regurgitate them in perfect condition later on. I’d like to theorize that Taco has an infinite pocket dimension (well, the proper term is hammerspace) to store things. Mostly lemons. If not accessible by mouth, I guess she can just??? Procure things from her body??? I dunno man, she’s just an enigma.

Toilet: Related Abilities: > Flushing* - He can flush himself. I do not know where the water goes. > Container* - His bowl (and possibly his reservoir) has water! I doubt he minds being diluted (since he’s got Water), though I’m not sure the addition of other materials to his water would affect him much either.

Unrelated Abilities: > Just a Good Ol’ Chap - whom does his best and I love so much!!! > Cockney Accent* - He has one.

Powers: > Levitation and Flight* - To permit his hi-jinks despite his limblessness, Toilet is able to kind of just appear where he wants. He can control his speed of levitation, so it kind of looks more like flying. It doesn’t seem he has an altitude limit, though this (presumably) does not free him from the limitations of his mortality. However, he cannot teleport.

too tired to keep going, remind me to do apple, balloon, baseball, bow, bomb, cheesy, cherries, knife, lightbulb, mephone4 & mepad, nickel, (the entirety of) paper, paintbrush, pickle, suitcase, test tube, tissues, trophy, & yin-yang (OR send me asks and i’ll answer!!!),,,,, i’ll update this post with the rest as they’re made to keep them in one place!

i will give references and reasons for thinking these thingies if asked.

#theory #the coward speaks #osc #inanimate insanity #ii #the entire fucking cast i guess #power theory #we could make an AU out of this!!!!#though. if y'all want to know #the objects that i Think have powers unrelated to their object are:#baseball; bow; knife; lightbulb(ish); nickel; paintbrush; yin-yang(maybe?)#the ones i think have actual concrete powers instead of just being like. observations of things i thought were a little weird are:#bow; nickel; paintbrush #yeet!!!!!!!!!!#FUCK. mephone4 & mepad have confirmed powers

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paigenotblank · 5 years

Text

The Age of the Wolf (6/9)

Rating: Mature overall, this chapter is teen

Pairing: Eighth Doctor x Rose Tyler

Written for @doctorroseprompts and Eight x Rose August. Prompt: Dimension hopping!Rose meets Eight / What if Rose was with Eight or met Eight during the Time War?

Read it on Tumblr: Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9

AO3 TSP

“I’m sorry, sir, but there’s been absolutely no sign of him.”

The Lord President turned angry eyes on the Doctor and his bondmate. “How can the Master just have disappeared without a trace?”

“The Cruciform was in chaos when the Dalek Emperor took control, maybe-”

“We were winning, how did we suddenly lose?”

“I can’t say, but the Master has always been very good at using distraction to-”

“Enough!” Rassilon narrowed his eyes at the Doctor. “The two of you have worked well enough together in recent years.”

“What are you implying?”

“I want every stone unturned until he’s found. The loss of the Cruciform is on him. I want answers. Check the Matrix. Check the Drylands. Get that little human hunter you’re friends with on it.”

“Leela has more important things to do than-”

“Recall every TARDIS that’s left Gallifrey if you have to. And while you are busy with that, have the…” Rassilon looked with disdain at Rose. “...Abomination you call wife check the fortifications over Arcadia.”

Rose bristled at the insult, but when the Doctor took a step forward, she grabbed his arm and shook her head and hissed under her breath, “Let it go, Doctor. Let’s...just go.”

“She’s a goddess. You’re not fit to breathe the same air as her.”

The Lord President laughed. “The closest the Time Lords have to a god is me. I brought Gallifrey out of the Dark Times. I gave us time travel. I molded us into the greatest society in all the multiverse. Your little human pet is only allowed here as long as she holds some usefulness. It’s lucky for you she’s so very bad at dying.” Rassilon sneered and made a gesture dismissing them.

Rose gritted her teeth and dragged the Doctor from the President’s private chamber.

He turned to her when they were alone in the corridor. “Rose, I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault the Time Lords elected giant prick as President. He doesn’t bother me.”

The Doctor raised his eyebrow.

Rose smiled. “...Much. I’m here for you, not him. Now come on, we’ve got a job to do.”

“The Master is slippery and a master of disguise. If he doesn’t want to be found-”

“Not talkin’ about lookin’ for that nutter. We should check the sky trenches and ramparts. That’s what’s keeping the people safe and is actually important.”

The Doctor pulled his wife against him and kissed her. “I love you.”

Rose sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. “I’ll never tire of hearing it.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’ll never stop telling you.”

Rose pulled away with a sad smile and pressed a quick peck to the Doctor’s lips. “Love you too. Now let’s get going.”

“Rose!”

The Doctor ran to where his bondmate had fallen in the desert. She’d been inspecting the fortifications high over Arcadia, as commanded, when the Dalek Emperor's Flagship attacked. After being hit by an energy ricochet, she’d plummeted thousands of feet back to the ground.

When he reached her, she was unconscious and her clothing still smoldered. He fell to his knees in the sand beside her and used his jacket to extinguish any embers left burning. His hearts pounded with fear every time she was sent to do something dangerous, even knowing she couldn’t die. It didn’t matter; when something went wrong, it was torturous. They had been fighting side by side for 117 years and she’d had 37 almost deaths. Each time he worried that this time it would be different, that this time she wouldn’t come back to him.

“Wake up, sweetheart. Please.”

Her body took on a golden glow and her burns and injuries quickly healed themselves. Her eyes opened and her oxygen starved lungs gasped for air.

“Doctor!”

He bent over her prone body and hugged her close. “My darling Rose, I love you, but you scare me every time you do that.”

“Better me than you.”

“Don’t say that, love. If I could save you one moment of pain, I would.”

“How are you going to give me forever if you’re the one dyin’ all the time? Let me do this for us.” Rose pressed her lips to his in a soft, easy kiss. She collapsed back into his arms with the need to breathe. “We have to go...the Sky Trenches aren’t going to hold much longer.”

He looked down at her and shook his head. “I’ve sent word to the General at High Command, but before we go back we need to find you some new clothes.” She glanced down. Hers were burned nearly from her body.

The Doctor carried her through the Drylands toward a small settlement in the hopes that someone remained or at the very least had left some supplies behind after fleeing. He slowed as he approached a wooden homestead that, like the rest of Gallifrey, had seen better days. He awkwardly shifted her in his arms so that he’d be able to knock.

“Put me down, I can stand.”

They stood side by side, as the door was answered by an old woman. Her hand went to her mouth. “M-my Lord Doctor and Lady Moment.”

The old woman stooped to bow, when Rose gently stopped her. “None of that now. It’s just the Doctor and Rose.”

“Might we come in?”

“Oh! Of course, please.” The woman stepped back and waved them entry.

The woman walked over to her fireplace and prepared two bowls of porridge. She brought them to the table for her guests. “I’m sorry I can’t offer more.”

The Doctor and Rose sat on a worn bench.

“You are most kind, madam.”

Rose raised the spoon to her lips. “It’s delicious. Best we’ve had in months.”

“I hate to ask for anything more, but if you have anything to spare...Rose could use something to wear.”

The woman jumped up from her seat and went over to a large trunk. “My daughter left these behind when she and her husband enlisted in the war.” She removed a selection of women’s clothing.

Rose walked over and smiled gratefully at the older woman. “Thank you.”

Rose changed from the tattered remains of her uniform, into a long skirt, leggings, jumper, and a sleeveless jacket. She removed her mother-in-law’s charm from where she kept it around her wrist, and used it to tie off a small plait. Biting her thumb, she returned to the Doctor. His eyes sparkled in admiration and he gave her a chaste kiss. “You look lovely.”

Rose rested her head on the Doctor’s shoulder and cuddled into his side. “Doctor, I think it’s time we went back to the Capitol for the-”

“No. That’s...that’s our last option. We...it’s...not yet.”

Rose reached for the Doctor’s hand and squeezed. “It’s getting close, Doctor, an’ I’m not saying it’s time to use it, but I think it’s safer for everyone involved if we have it with us. They’re...well I think Rassilon is getting suspicious, even more than usual, which is never good. And with the Dalek’s recent attack, he’ll be desperate. Not a great combination. Who knows how much longer we’ll even have access to the Vaults?”

The Doctor hugged her closer, and rested his cheek on the top of her head.

The Gallifrey High Command was in the War Room plotting changes to their current strategy. The General studied a hologram of the Dalek ships hovering above a map of the planet. His lieutenant, Androgar, entered the room with a report. “The High Council is in an emergency session. They have plans of their own.”

“To hell with the High Council. Their plans have already failed. Gallifrey's still in the line of fire. The Time Lock will buy us only a little more time.”

“As you can see, sir, all Dalek fleets surrounding the planet are now converging on the Capitol. Thankfully the Sky Trenches are still holding.”

“For how much longer? We’ve had word from the Renegade and the Abomination-”

“Sir!”

“What? She’s no more a goddess than I am, no matter what the common people believe. She doesn’t deserve the title Lady.”

“She’s been instrumental in our defense, surely she deserves a measure of respect.”

The General shook his head and muttered to himself, “The Doctor’s bloody humans. First I had to deal with Leela for years, and then this one.” He turned back to Androgar. “Regardless, they sent word that the Trenches are weakened after that last flurry of attacks from the Dalek Flagship.”

“But almost nothing in the universe can get through a Sky Trench...nothing in history’s ever gotten through. And there are 400 that protect the sky above Arcadia!” There was a large blast from outside and the building shook. The General’s underlings looked around nervously. “This is their biggest attack yet. They're throwing everything at us. Does the Lady Moment really think-”

A Time Lady burst into the meeting. “Sir, there’s been a security breach to the Time Vaults.”

A map of the area being discussed was loaded onto the security screen. A red dot could be seen moving along the corridors.

“The Omega Arsenal, where all the forbidden weapons are locked away.”

Androgar looked confused. “They're not forbidden any longer. We've used them all against the Daleks.”

The General clenched his jaw. “No. No we haven’t.”

Arcadia was in flames. The dead and injured lined the streets. Battle droids and Dalek fighters flew through the air firing lasers and energy blasts. Buildings were crumbling and civilians were fleeing, no longer safe in the “safest place on Gallifrey.” Time Lords and Gallifreyan Soldiers were fighting side by side, doing what little they could to protect their people from the overwhelming waves of enemy combatants that had descended upon them seemingly in no time at all. Children were crying in the street, separated from fleeing parents, as chaos reigned.

Daleks swept through the streets shouting, “Exterminate! Exterminate! Exterminate!”

Rose and the Doctor walked slowly through the rubble, sadness weighing heavily upon them. Rose spied a small girl about to walk into the path of a formation of Daleks. She ran behind a toppled wall and grabbed the girl, covering her mouth so that she wouldn’t give away their location. “It’s okay, sweetheart. But I need you to be quiet.” The girl’s frantic mother fell to her knees before Rose in gratitude. “My Lady Moment, thank you! Thank you!”

“It’s okay. Now hurry. Get as far away from here as you can.” The little girl gave Rose a kiss on her cheek and hugged her before taking up her mother’s hand.

The family hastened down an alley, as a missile exploded into the side of a nearby building. They disappeared under the weight of the falling stones. When Rose turned around aghast, the Doctor was there waiting. He opened his arms and Rose held onto him tightly, crying silently against his neck.

“Oh, Doctor! I can’t...I can’t do this anymore.”

The Doctor looked down into Rose’s tear stained face, and nodded. “It’s time.”

They walked hand in hand back toward the Citadel. They passed a soldier screaming into his wrist-com. “Message for the High Council. Priority Omega. Arcadia has fallen. I repeat, Arcadia has fallen!” When the man had completed his task, he closed his eyes and leaned back against a wall. He locked eyes with them and his fear and dejection were palpable.

Rose and the Doctor nodded their respects, and while the weight of what they were about to do slowed their steps, they trudged onward, the calm in the storm raging around them.

The General was followed by several of his aides into the Time Vault. He walked directly to an empty podium and slammed his fist into his palm.

“That mad fool! The Eye of Discord is gone.”

“I don't understand. What’s the Eye of Discord? I've never heard of it.”

The General turned to Androgar. “The Galaxy Eater. The final work of the ancients of Gallifrey. The scientist, Roppen, made a weapon so powerful it is to only be used when all other hope is lost. It’s said he fitted the core with sentience and a conscience, so that the user must not only face their choice but argue on behalf of it. Because not only does it destroy all traces of an enemy, it destroys all traces that the enemy had ever existed including everyone who had ever even heard of them. At full power it’s capable of destroying every living thing in the universe.”

“Rassilon’s Rod! No wonder it’s never been used.”

“How do you use a weapon of ultimate mass destruction when it can stand in judgment on you? There is only one man who would even dare.”

There was a soft knock on the door to the Doctor and Rose’s private chambers within the Capitol. Rose was packing up the meager supplies that they kept there, and so the Doctor walked over to answer it.

At the sight of his best and oldest friends, he moved out of the way and bid them entrance. “Romana. Leela. Andred.” He greeted them each with clasped hands.

“Hello, Doctor. Rose.”

“Hello.” Rose walked up to the group and frowned. “I thought Brax was supposed to join us?”

Romana ran a hand through her hair. “I’m afraid he’s been taken in for questioning regarding the Vault. Your mother’s gone to plead his case.”

Rose turned to the Doctor. “We’ve got to help them.”

Andred shook his head. “No, you’ve got to do this.” He took the sack his wife was holding and handed it to the Doctor. “We’ll do what we can for your brother, but in the end it won’t matter. The end is coming. All that is left to be determined is how much of the universe will be going with it.”

Leela clasped her hand in Andred’s. “I shall make sure Brax spends the last of his time where he belongs.” She darted a glance at Romana. “With his friends.”

The Doctor studied those surrounding him. Leela, his beloved former companion; Andred, the most loyal of friends; and Romana, a Time Lady he watched grow from an inexperienced though brilliant young woman to an accomplished and respected leader. “Leave. Leave Gallifrey. All of you. While there’s still time. Please. Let some good facet of Time Lord society survive.”

Romana took his hands between her own and smiled. Her eyes drifted to Rose before returning to her friend. “Oh, I think it will with or without us. Besides, we’re needed here. We each have our roles to play. We came to bid you goodbye and good luck.”

“No.” Rose teared up at the anguish in the Doctor’s voice.

Leela stepped forward to give the Doctor a hug and whispered in his ear. “You must leave now, while you still have the chance. Rassilon’s snares grow ever tighter.”

Andred clapped the Doctor on the back. “Doctor, it has been an honor knowing and serving with you.”

“And you, my friend.”

The Doctor turned to face Romana. She stood tall and proud. “Romana.”

She arched one delicate brow. “Yes, my Lord Doctor?”

He grinned. “Take care of that rapscallion brother of mine, would you? With whatever time you have left.”

Her eyes went wide and she blushed hotly. “I...what? I mean...I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

“No, of course not.” He kissed her on the cheek and grabbed Rose’s hand. “Well, my dear, sounds like we’ve got an important mission.”

She waved at the friends she had made during her life on Gallifrey. “Goodbye, all of you. I’m so glad I had the opportunity to know you.”

Leela smiled. “You are a true warrior, my Lady. And it was an honor to fight by your side.”

“That’s high praise indeed coming from you, Leela.”

Romana snorted. “I just can’t believe I lived to see the day that the Doctor voluntarily settled down.”

“Oi!”

“Who are you fooling, love? When we first met all you did was grouse about domestics.”

“Did I? Must have been because I didn’t think I could handle them without you by my side. Better with two, eh?”

Rose blushed. “Yeah. Better with two.” She laced their fingers together, and nodded her final goodbyes to their friends.

They closed the door behind them and then immediately opened it at another knock.

Rose gasped to see the Doctor’s son and daughter standing there.

“Hello, my Lady Moment, may we come in?”

“Sure. Of course.” She stepped back and bid them entry. “And please, I’ve asked you to call me ‘Rose.’”

They bowed to her and nodded to their father. “Doctor.”

“What are you doing here? Not that I mind, but you’ve both made it clear that you didn’t wish to have an association with me...us.” He gestured between himself and Rose.

The Doctor’s daughter looked nervously at her brother. “We may have been hasty in our estimation of you.”

“This War has gone on far too long and done irreparable damage to the universe. The High Council and our Lord President Rassilon are no longer acting in the best interests of Gallifrey. We see that now.”

Rose snorted. “The Citadel is literally crumbling around us, is that all it took?” The Doctor shot her a look.

His daughter blushed. “I’m sorry that we allowed our biases to prevent a deeper relationship to develop between us. It will be something that I regret for-”

“No. No regrets. You’ve come now and that is something I will treasure always.” The Doctor embraced his daughter who stood stiffly in his arms. He pulled back and kissed her crown. “Thank you.”

She nodded and gave him a small smile.

His son cleared his throat. “We came to warn you that the third prophecy has been found, and, er, well...we’ve also come to wish you luck.”

“Luck? What’s the prophecy?”

“‘The Last Son of Gallifrey will be the one to bring about the moment,” his eyes flicked to Rose, “that ends the Time War.’”

Rose paled as her hand went to her mouth. “The Last of the…”

The Doctor darted a glance at her. “The Moment. It says that exactly? And Rassilon is aware of this?”

His daughter nodded. “He was just informed.”

“We’ve got to go now, Rose. Right now.”

She was already moving toward the TARDIS in the corner of the room.

“Thank you. I’m sorry I wasn’t a better father to you, but-”

His daughter raised her hand. “No. No regrets is what you said. Please. Go and save what’s left of the universe.”

“Be what you’ve always been - the Doctor.”

“Please, both of you, run. Take your families and get as far from here as you can.”

The siblings shared a look. “Rassilon will send people to look for you here first, we can buy you some time.”

“Please-”

“We’re not like you, Gallifrey is our home. Save something of it in our memory and don’t diminish our sacrifice.”

“Never.”

“Now go.”

The Doctor paused and took one last look at his children, perhaps they were more like him than he’d ever given them credit for, before turning and following Rose into the TARDIS.

Lord President Rassilon, flanked by two members of the Chancellery Guard, strode briskly through the halls of the Citadel to his private Council chamber. He sat down at the head of the table with the other members of his Inner Council.

“Is there any word of the Doctor?”

The Lord Chancellor paused before stating, “Disappeared, my Lord President.”

The Lady Partisan informed him, “But we know his intention. He took possession of the Eye of Discord, it’s likely he'll use it to destroy Daleks and Time Lords alike.”

The Lord Chancellor inclined his head and picked up a scroll. “The Visionary confirms it.”

The Visionary, an old, weathered woman covered in tattoos, sat opposite the Lord President and furiously scratched quill to paper. “Ending, burning, falling. All of it falling. The black and pitch and screaming fire, so burning.”

“All of her prophecies say the same. That this is the last day of the Time War. That Gallifrey falls. That we die, today.”

“Ending. Ending. Ending. Ending!” The old woman screeched with fervor.

The Lady Partisan took a deep breath. “Perhaps it's time. This is only the furthest edge of the Time War. But at its heart, millions die every second, lost in bloodlust and insanity. With time itself resurrecting them, to find new ways of dying over and over again. A travesty of life. Isn't it better to end it, at last?”

The Lord President sneered, “Thank you for your opinion.” He stood and aimed his gauntlet covered fist at her. The whole thing pulsed with blue light and an energy beam shot forth. She screamed before being reduced to ash and atoms. He yelled at the rest of the Inner Council, “I will not die! Do you hear me? A billion years of Time Lord history riding on our backs. I will not let this perish. I will not!”

The Lord Chancellor stood nervously. “There is, er, there is one part of the prophecy, my Lord.” He unfurled a scroll and brought it to Rassilon’s side. “Forgive me, I'm sorry. It's rather difficult to decipher, but it talks of survivors, two, beyond the Final Day. And also a mention of two children of Gallifrey.”

“Does it name them?”

“Not as such. But it does foresee them locked in a final confrontation, ‘The Enmity of Ages,’ which would suggest…”

Rassilon’s eyes lit with recognition. “The Doctor and the Master.”

The Chancellor pointed to a section of the parchment. “One word keeps being repeated, my Lord. One constant word. Earth.”

The Visionary cackled, “Earth. Earth. Earth. Earth. Earth. Earth.”

The Chancellor pulled up a holographic projection of the Earth. “Planet Earth. Indigenous higher species, the human race.”

“Earth. Earth. Earth.”

Rassilon examined the primitive planet. “I don't know what the Doctor sees in it, but maybe that’s where the answer lies. Just think, our salvation. On Earth. There is a certain justice in that. The Doctor plots to take Gallifrey, but the Master will give us the Earth.”

The Visionary tapped her finger against the table in a rhythm of four.

Rassilon looked sharply at her. “A rhythm of four. The heartbeat of a Time Lord.”

“History says the Master heard such a rhythm when he looked into the Untempered Schism during his Awakening. A torment that stayed with him for the entirety of his life.”

“A drumbeat. A warrior's march.”

“A symptom of insanity, my Lord.”

“A solution to this madness. Send the signal.”

The Chancellor opened a small rupture in time. “Four beats transmitted back through time, and implanted in the Master's mind as a child.”

“Perfect, then we have a link to where the Master is right now. His disappearance was ordained.”

“But we're still trapped inside the Time Lock, sir. The link is nothing more than a thought, an idea.”

“Then we need something to make the contact physical. Something simple.”

The Visionary chanted, “So small and shining. Shining bright and cold. The tiny, tiny star, falling, falling, burning, burning, burning.”

Rassilon looked down to his staff and removed a diamond from the tip. He rolled it between his fingers and smiled. “Small enough to follow the link. And if this were on Earth, at the same time as the Master…” He took the diamond and threw it at the projection of the Earth.

The Doctor and Rose walked for miles through the heat of the double suns. They crossed rust colored sand dunes and barren lake beds, heading for the Doctor’s childhood home. The only sound was the rise and fall of their footsteps. The Doctor had the sack containing the Eye of Discord slung over his shoulder. Every once in awhile Rose would offer to take his burden, but each time he’d solemnly shake his head. They were both lost in thought, when suddenly Rose asked, “Why did we park so far away? You didn’t want her to see?”

“Want who to see?”

“The TARDIS. We’ve been walking for ages.”

“It’s given me time to think, plus I didn’t want to make it easy for the Time Lords to find us.”

Rose captured his hand in hers. “But they know my energy signature well enough. Shouldn’t be too hard to track us down...unless, you’re not planning on doing something stupid are you?”

He laughed bitterly. “Worse than destroying my own people?”

“You know what I mean...I’m not leaving you. Not when we’ve made it this far together.”

The Doctor sighed. “No. Right or wrong, I won’t send you away, don’t think I’d be strong enough to do this on my own.” His fingers played with the band of Rose’s wedding ring. “The Time Lords shouldn’t be able to find you. Your wedding band is a bio-damper. It hides you from them.”

“The wedding band you gave me on our 80th anniversary? The wedding band I’ve been wearing for nearly four decades?”

“Erm, yes...”

She lightly slapped his arm. “An’ you never said? Over a century in, and you still manage to surprise me.”

He gave her a small flirty grin and an overly dramatic kiss on the cheek.

They walked in silence for several more minutes, before Rose asked, “Thinkin’ ‘bout what?”

“Hmm?”

“You said you needed time to think. ‘Bout what?”

He let out a deep breath. “Ways to avoid what we’ve got to do.”

“Doctor…”

“I don’t think I can do this, Rose. I...I know Rassilon and the High Council are planning something unspeakable. There’re rumors he’s considering the Ultimate Sanction, but I can’t...when I think of all the innocent people...all the children...how can I?”

“If there was any other way...”

“I can’t believe that this is the only way. There has to be another. I just need more time to think. To find it.” He stopped suddenly, dropping the sack, and turned to Rose. “Rose, you have to tell me what you know.”

“What’re you talkin’ about?”

“From the future, what did I tell you about how the War ends?”

“Doctor! You know I can’t.”

The Doctor gripped Rose’s upper arms. “Rose, please.” Rose bit her lip hard to keep from breaking down and cupped the Doctor’s jaw. “I...just this once. I can make it-”

“Doctor, I can’t.” She held his gaze and begged him to understand.

He closed his eyes tight.

She whispered, “I’m sorry. I can’t tell you what you want to hear.”

“I’m so afraid I won’t do the right thing.” He laughed harshly. “I’m a coward, Rose. You married a coward.”

“You...you’re the bravest man I know. I love you. I’ve always loved you just like I will always love you.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Stop it. Just remember, you’re not alone. Yeah? I’m right here. You said it yourself, ‘‘S better with two.’”

The Doctor pulled her close and feathered kisses across her brow, the bridge of her nose, before finally tilting her head and kissing her deeply. Rose ran her hands through his hair. He’d let it grow out a little longer than when they first met. He knew how much she adored playing with the curls. Their foreheads rested against each other as they caught their breath. From the corner of his eye, the Doctor noticed a star shoot across the sky. “What? No!”

“What was that?”

The Doctor laced their fingers together and bent down to retrieve the bag with the Eye of Discord. “They broke through the Time Lock.”

“Who?”

“The Time Lords. If they can get out, then so could anyone else. Come on. We’ve got to go. We’re out of time.”

Rassilon stood proudly and addressed the full Time Lord Senate. “Now the High Council of Time Lords must vote. Whether we die here, today, either by the Daleks or one of our own. Or do we return to the waking world and complete the Ultimate Sanction? For this is the hour when either Gallifrey falls, or Gallifrey rises!”

The chanting of the Time Lords is almost deafening. “GALLIFREY RISES!”

Rassilon lifts his staff and leads the call. “Gallifrey rises! For Gallifrey.”

“FOR GALLIFREY!”

“For victory!”

“FOR VICTORY!”

“For the end of time itself!”

“FOR THE END OF TIME ITSELF!”

#eight x rose #doctorroseprompts #the age of the wolf #time war #doctor who #leela #andred #romana #rassilon #the general #50th re-write/fix it #eight is the war doctor

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artsyld · 6 years

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The Snake, The Bombs, and the Mongoose

A Hazbin Hotel story, about Sir Pentious, his Egg Bois, and the night they met @modtime‘s OC, Roxane.

It was the same monotonous cycle, year in and year out. Faceless exterminators, tall, lean, and mechanically deadly, would take out a few denizens or so once a year, regardless of what they were doing. It seemed like with each passing purge, more are attacked and lose whatever little they had left, after crossing over from Earth to the hellish world they'd been sent to. Sir Pentious knew it all too well. He recalled a time when extermination wasn't even a thought. Sure, an unlucky soul would be destroyed every now and then, but that, he recalled, was often fueled by carelessness, not by social motives. With the coming of the twenty-first century however came an apparent lack of morality, faith, and forgiveness on Earth (at least, that's what some of the newer denizens would propose), and now the bleak, red world that the black and gold cobra was stuck in just felt overcrowded. Overflowing with humanoids and talking creatures alike, who never atoned and made amends for their past mistakes, the world around Sir Pentious grew increasingly uncivilized, chaotic, and, in his opinion, unintelligent. Sir Pentious wouldn't allow it; not in this bloody dimension where destruction seemed to be the top priority in everyone's minds. If only it could learn from him. After all, the snake was a brilliant inventor, acclaimed and respected during his career on Earth. In the world he longed for again, gentlemen held doors open for ladies, and many were not inclined to be so destructive and reckless in good company. No one seemed to think much of these qualities the way Sir Pentious did. Even some of those who'd passed on from within his time period had given up a long time ago to try and maintain that sense of discipline that had been instilled in him since childhood. But the snake simply wouldn't. As long as his long slithering body was shaking, as long as the eyes on his tail and the blinking one on his hat still moved and pondered like he did, no matter what their prideful "Leader", his current Queen Lucine, or anyone else thought, he would no longer sit idly by, while his former world, basking in its title as being what he'd describe as "a beacon of civilization and culture," would completely disappear. This very thinking led Sir Pentious down his road of villainy, a path as long and as winding as his serpentine tail. He knew it would be tricky; the very idea of trying to take over a city-a kingdom, in fact- was no easy task, but to take over one of this scale? It would be an experience for sure; perhaps an enjoyable one? On the night he had resolved to make these choices, the clever creature couldn't help but grin. He could only imagine what the heavenly hosts would think. Nevertheless, he would follow through with his claims. If he was going to be stuck here in a place he found quite awful, he was going to make it fit his standards. He knew better than to try it alone. Even some of the most ambitious fellows he'd ever read up on, Alexander the Great, Genghis Khan, Brutus of Rome; even fictional men, like King Claudius and Fagin the old pickpocket, had others, With that in his mind, it wasn't long before he found his own others in the form of the Egg Bois, a collection of talking eggs, who came to appreciate Sir Pentious. The broken cracks of their shells served as their eyes and mouths, and they too pulled off dark gray suits lined with long gold stripes like the cobra they now followed. They even matched their small golden eyes, full of enthusiasm and contentment, at being considered useful by someone at last. Over the decades, Sir Pentious and the Egg Bois would conjure up very complex schemes to try and dismantle their monarch. Some schemes involved infiltrating a recently approved organization; for others, their approach included the growing influence of Pentious's side businesses. Though the growing population was helping his businesses grow in profit, the overwhelming crowds and cacophony did nothing to soothe the cobra. And apparently not even the one who first thought of those inconvenient killers. Though his small gang never did get far anyway, Sir Pentious was ambitious and incredibly determined. Even when the destructive exterminators came along to take the lives of their fellow citizens, Sir Pentious kept his focus; even when territorial genocide became a factor in this fallen kingdom he wanted. Especially when he was truthfully inconvenienced by the conception and birth of Lucine's daughter, Charlie, he wouldn't give in. Over this period of time however, the more Sir Pentious and the Egg Bois failed, the more he began to feel that sense of lacking; as if somehow, having henchmen, his engineer's mind, and his never ending desire for power, were no longer enough. One day, as he silently watched his fellow citizens from his red, dark gray, and golden home, quietly noticing a recently deceased goth with big silver hair, ranting at what appeared to be a pink and cream colored spider creature with a smirk on his face, he suddenly considered something he hadn't before. Perhaps the reason why he frequently failed to mold this cacophonous dimension to his liking was due to a lack of a co-conspirator. Someone he can exchange ideas with and show off his skills to. He looked over at the Egg Bois, seeing them pop open bottles of champagne after a long day of working. Sir Pentious frowned and quietly scoffed at them. They were suitable henchmen, he supposed, but certainly not partner material. He needed a quick-witted someone. Or it could be that he was just overthinking things; most likely. For now though, he walked off from the scene, putting his thoughts away for awhile. "Bois, gather around!" he exclaimed, beckoning the Bois from all over their meeting room. It was a tall, glistening place with shining gold and pink windows, mismatched by deep grey walls. Each of the bois crowded near a red monitor perched on a pedestal, paired with two levers. "Out of the way-out of the way," he said, as he pulled on the levers. "Tonight, the Captain of the Guard of our fearless 'leader' is visiting the Purge Messengers," he explained, pointing as a map of the Inferno appeared. He pointed to a small rectangle on the map, on completely opposite ends where the Royal Family's castle sat. "We've managed to find out that the Captain will be carrying the procedures for the purge commencing next week. Now, if we can drug or distract the Captain-or blow him up if possible- and get ahold of those plans, we can present ourselves to the population, and present this year's escape routes and how-to's! For a price of course; I could be the one to settle the chaos this year and keep people in one piece. People like to be looked after, you know. Everyone will look to me for guidance! More guidance, means more respect, which means more being 'hip', as some people say! And being 'hip', means more influence. And where does influence lead? Power! And with that power can quickly lead to-" "Domination?" an Egg Bois asked. There was a sudden silence, as Sir Pentious practically stared him down with an annoyed scowl. The boi that spoke sank back down into his stance, and pointed his head down.

"DOMINATION!!" Sir Pentious replied, instantly rising his voice. "YEAH!!!" the Egg Bois all cheered and clapped. The mouthy fumbled with his hands. "Brilliant, Sir Pentious!" "No one will stand a chance!" The blinking hat on his head grinned as the serpent did. This, in particular, was a moment he looked forward to each day; his collection of minions appreciating him as the knowing eyes on his tail, clothes, and cobra hood looking at his face. It was a comforting thing; temporary, but comforting all the same. ...

The blood red sky loomed over Roxane, as she maneuvered from street lamp to street lamp, carrying a leather purse over her shoulders. She wanted to rub her back from the ache of a newly stitched patch of skin on her lower back, where her tail used to be. Regardless of the pain, the mongoose used her keen sense of smell to sense any followers; any who might've seen her swipe some loot just after her operation. Thankfully, there were none. Now that she was far away from the scenes of her crimes, she decided to simply walk down the sidewalk and try to relax. Walking near various creatures of different types, her head pointed towards a collection of televisions behind a window, all featuring a blonde haired demon with a smile too wide to be comforting. "And finally, the Annual Purge is just five days away. I'd say 'hope and pray you don't die', but let's face it. We're already dead!" she announced with an oddly cheerful tone. "And as usual, we'll be presenting live coverage of the event, from our studio of course! I'm Katie Killjoy, for the 6 o'clock news," Roxane wrinkled her little black nose, more out of distaste. Leave it to crazy Killjoy and her coworkers to sit tight in their studio while the rest of their dimension had to run and hide. "Ah, who am I kidding?" she thought to herself. "They've done it since the start of these stupid purges. Why change now?" After a quick growl of her stomach, she hurried past the televisions and down the street, holding her bag close, without trying look too suspicious. Warning posters, and demons indulging in various vices, from lust to wrath to gluttony, lined the sidewalks, and clumped themselves under streetlights, either ignoring her entirely or looking at her either with mean spirited ridicule or judgement. No matter, she always thought. She lightly stepped across the street and mumbled an 'excuse me', as she slipped by people. Most didn't bother with a response or even the turn of the head. She didn't care much these days. She hadn't known an entirely pleasant face since before the end of her life on Earth. Granted, she couldn't have expected anything better; not in this place. She pulled her hat a little further down onto her head, and glanced over her shoulder one last time, just to be safe. Roxane only sped up her walk once she left the busy epicenter of downtown. As she pulled her large cap over her head, suburbs gradually took their places as she grew closer to her apartment complex. She happened upon a three story apartment building, dirty and sad looking, on the other end of suburbs, where the houses and strip centers sat near open fields and one solitary skyscraper, a secondary meeting place for employees of the Royal Family, Roxane had once been told. The building was also littered with demons, partaking in smoking, drinking, screaming at each other, and throwing a punch or two. The latter of which took place just by her usual flight of stairs to get to her own little apartment. She rolled her eyes, but before she could use the flight of stairs on the other end of the building, she noticed something she found particularly odd. A collection of talking ovals scurried from street corner to corner, whispering among each other as they crossed the streets. Roxane, tired as she was, could've sworn they were...no they couldn't be. She slipped behind the building and watched them giggle at each other about a joke she didn't quite catch. They certainly did look like eggs, but surely they couldn't be...scrambled eggs sounded really nice right about now, she thought. She sank to her arms and knees and hid behind large, fallen debris, in hopes of getting a better look at them. Just as she suspected, they were four Egg Bois, with broken cracks for their mouths and eye sockets. The bois stopped at a corner a little close by the skyscraper, giving Roxane the chance she needed to get close enough to verify what these creatures were. "There's just one thing I don't understand?" the first one asked, albeit grouchily. "What's that, Curtis?" another, Martin, asked, sounding tired. Roxane watched them from behind and smirked a little. The more she looked at these eggs, however animate, the more she felt her hunger spike. Nasty little thoughts entered her head. "Why exactly would the Big Man Downstairs get a random skyscraper built all the way out here in the trashy suburbs? Isn't he just begging for trouble?" "Have you seen the demons around here?" another asked, trying to stay focused on looking out. "They're too busy smoking and drinking with their pals. No sensible crook from Downtown would bother doing business with a lazy gaggle of bums. Though I doubt they're worse than that Angel Dust-" "Oh yeah, I can't stand that guy!" Curtis cried. "If that arachno-jerk ever shows up again, I oughta cave his head in! I'd go 'wham!'-" he cried, throwing a punch. "And a 'kerpow!'-, and a-ugh!" There was a sudden quiet. "...finally he shuts up," Martin whispered. "Bois-" Sir Pentious whispered, as he appeared from the shadows and beckoned them. "Hello, Boss!" the third of them, Samuel, replied. "How many times do I have to tell you bois, that you have to be quiet? Especially on these jobs?" he asked strictly. The eye on his hat practically glared at the trio. "Wait a minute..." Sir Pentious did a head count. "One, two, th-...are we missing someone?" The Eggs Bois looked around them. "Where's Curtis?" the fourth of them, Frederick, asked. "Excellent question," Sir Pentious grumbled. "...well, it could still work with two...Frederick!" "Boss?" "Go find Curtis! I don't want anyone seeing him and getting suspicious," he ordered. "Yes, sir!" Frederick replied before speeding away. Sir Pentious hid the remaining bois, including himself, at the sound of footsteps, clacking on the pavement. Slipping towards the side of the skyscraper, Sir Pentious and Samuel peeked over the corner and found a well dressed demons wearing many medals approaching the sliding doors of the skyscraper, looking very smug. He was a very handsome gentleman, very humanoid in appearance, with long flowing dark hair. His eyes were a flaming red, and around his chest was a satchel; one that Sir Pentious stared at intently. "There he is, bois. Captain Mermeoth, one of the original Fallen Angels from before the Creation of Man. They say he was there the moment the Princess's father first proposed his rebellion." "He looks awfully impressive, Boss," Samuel replied. "Yes, but not for long," Sir Pentious told him with a grin. "Get ready to distract him." "Yes, sir!" Martin agreed. "And Samuel, take your place on the other side of the building. Wait for the moment I nod my head. Trigger the bombs, and it'll send them to his knees. Then, when he's preoccupied, grab the plans. He always keeps them in that satchel of his. You boys ready?" "Right!" Samuel replied. Martin was silent. "Martin?" Sir Pentious looked behind him and Samuel. The hat's eye widened in shock. Samuel looked left and right. "Where did he go??" the boi asked. Sir Pentious's face was thrown left and right, and his face expressed a look of confusion, frustration, and maybe even a little worry. "What is going on here?!" he demanded. "HELP!! HELP!!!!" "That sounds like Martin!" Samuel cried. Sir Pentious hummed in suspicion. His hat glared a cold dagger. ... "HELP-HELP-HELP!!" "Shut up, dude, huh?" Roxane snapped. Wrapped up in her arms were three squirming egg bois, kicking their feet and struggling. Using her paws as well as she could, she gathered a collection of trash and a pan, and attempted to start a fire on the opposite side of the street parallel to the skyscraper. Hiding in an alleyway, she kept her eyes open and alert, should any particular cobras show up. "Shh-shh, sorry, fellas, nothing personal. I'm a mongoose, you're some eggs, and I'm starving. Don't be so sore about it." "NO, YOU CRAZY BROAD! LET. US. GO!" Curtis cried. "WAAAHHH I WANT SIR PENTIOUS!" Martin wailed. Roxane rolled her eyes as she tried to light up a match and make a fire. When the matchstick was lit, she flung it into the trash and watched the flame flare up. "There we go! Now, bois, try to relax. This will only take a-OW!" Roxane felt a clawed hand grasp her bare shoulder and turn her around. Sir Pentious clutched her skin with a terrible glare on his face and hat.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING??!!" Roxane jumped, causing the bois to fall from her arms. "HOORAY! The Boss has come to save us!" Curtis cheered. "YAHOOOO!" the other bois cried. They crowded around Sir Pentious and beamed at him. "We love you, Sir Pentious!" "Yes, yes, yes-" he said, putting them all behind him. Roxane couldn't help but smirk as she pushed herself away from him. "Aw, the big bad Egg Dad protecting his sons." The cobra's muscles tensed up at such a response. "Sons?! Who do you think you are, snatching my henchmen, young woman?" Roxane frowned at him. "Well, that can happen, when you're wandering around Hell, stuffed full of mischievous demons." Her smile was bold, and filled with sharp pearly whites. Sir Pentious curled his fingers in, taken aback a little by her courage. The mongoose seemed pleased at her apparently unexpected sass. "That may be, my dear, but you don't just simply steal a man's minions, Hell or no Hell," he snarled. Roxane squared her shoulders a little, in preparation for a fight. "Well, I-" She pushed away her bag, causing it to tip over. Sir Pentious briefly noticed some of the items inside; two brown and black wallets, a bag of chips, a crowbar, and a debit card with a masculine name etched in it. "Perhaps, this isn't your first theft, is it, my mongoose?" he asked, with an arched eyebrow. Roxane tied her hair up just in case. "You clever cobra, you," she replied, not frowning for a second. "Thanks," he replied arrogantly. His tail nudged Curtis to snatch her bag. "Hey!!" she exclaimed as Sir Pentious took the bag and looked through it with an evil smirk on his face. "I can't stay long, but I'm interested in your repertoire. Let me see," he opened up the wallets and found ID cards that clearly didn't match her face. "Two hundred Hell Credits, a crowbar-useful for thefts, I will admit-a bag of salt and oil, and...Garrett Kane," he grinned at her, upon reading the payment card. "You don't look like a Garrett Kane."

Roxane lunged for the bag, before Sir Pentious slipped out of the way, tripping her with his tail. His hat beamed with malicious pleasure before Roxane grabbed on his arm and tugged him to the ground. The Egg Bois huddled together, gasping and worried. The mongoose pinned him to the ground, giggling with mild ridicule. "You know that the mongoose is your natural enemy, right?" She clenched her fist up and sent it sailing down towards his face. However, the serpent grabbed it, as his hat fell off and rolled away from him. His mouth and eyes widened with a deafening hiss, as he sat up, jerking her back. He pinned her to the wall, holding her by her wrists. "The Laws of the Earth don't apply in Hell, my dear." Roxane's chest heaved up and down as she briefly analyzed her situation. His clawed fingers pressed down on her skin, but strangely enough, not too deep that it drew blood. Looking at him and all of his eyes falling on her, she felt wouldn't break, not in front of this slithering creature. "I'll give you that," she breathed, still smirking. "Sir Pentious...right?" The snake was silent, not expecting her to utter his name. "You're in one of those gangs that are always fighting for terf. I saw you throw a grenade at a girl once. Tall woman, long blonde ponytail, one red eye?" "You know Cherri?" he hissed distastefully. "I know of Cherri, and her buddy, Angel Dust," she explained. She noticed the scowl on his face, his grip staying as tight as possible. "I'm impressed. Yes, she and Angel were plotting to take my side of town for the millionth time. Can't say, I approve." "I don't blame you. If someone were trying to steal my apartment, I wouldn't receive them well either. If you've gotta steal, you gotta be sneaky about it." Sir Pentious hummed. "And smart about it." "Exactly," Roxane replied. "I saw you throw it at her, the night I pickpocketed some Hell Credits from an aristocrat, one of those old school Fallen Angels from waaayyy back when." "You stole from a Fallen Angel? How?" he asked in a low, doubtful tone. Roxane chuckled. "I'm too quick. I've been at this since 1980. I used it to buy that purse of mine; a nice deep one to hold aallll my treasures," she replied, almost flirting. She winked at him, causing another flicker of doubt in him. "I see. I wish I'd caught that Cherri even more so now. You'd have seen how great a shot I am." "I believe you," she assured him. They stared at each other for quite awhile. The Egg Bois weren't sure what to make them both. This random mongoose girl keeping her cool and teasing the Boss, like he was a common demon. Yet, the Boss just stands there, keeping her pinned by her bare shoulders, no thanks to her loose gold colored sweater. Yet, he does nothing. No hitting, no venomous bites, not even an apparent scratch to the skin under her thin layer of fur; all there seemed to be as they teased each other were snarky smiles and subtle pink tints to their cheeks. Even his hat seemed a little confused. “Nice hat, cobra,” she replied with a grin. Neither Sir Pentious nor the Hat seemed to expect this, but the latter was plenty flattered. “Yours isn’t so bad itself.” Sir Pentious began to question himself. His reluctance to retaliate or say anything more, baffled even him. For a moment, all he did was stare, before he shook his head and held out her bag with his tail. "I think...I'm beginning to like you, Miss..." "Roxane; now what are you doing out here anyway?" she asked in a gentle tone that surprised even her. "And that's how I lost my dog, Scruffy!" Roxane, Sir Pentious, and remaining Egg Bois, looked around the corner and saw Samuel trying to talk to a very impatient looking Mermeoth. Sir Pentious grinned. "Perfect! Martin, get over there and hurry to the bombs," he whispered to Martin. "Yes, sir!" Martin replied.

"Bombs?!" Roxane asked. Sir Pentious shushed her. "Can I go get the satchel, Boss?" Curtis asked in a redemptive tone. "No! You've been too careless lately. Frederick, you go get it," Sir Pentious snapped. Curtis shrugged lowly. Frederick saluted and took a ready stance. Samuel could see Martin creep behind Mermeoth. His heart skipped a beat when the captain turned his head for just a brief moment, only for Samuel to remind him of a rabies shot this 'Scruffy' had. Martin sprinted towards the other side of the street, parallel to the right side of the skyscaper. Sir Pentious watched Martin, who made eye contact with him once he made it to a long winding wire extending from the building. Roxane saw the grin on his face as he picked up his hat and brushed it off. Roxane noticed it blink at her for a moment, before Sir Pentious gave him the signal. One head nod was all he needed. Huge spheres of fire and smoke exploded from the ground, causing Mermeoth to stumble and Samuel to try and reach for the demon's satchel. His lack of grace caused him to fall over. "WOAH-OOF!! I-I'VE FALLEN! HELP! I CAN'T GET UP!!! HELP!!!!" he cried. Sir Pentious groaned and was about to enter the scene before Roxane sped towards the rubble from behind him. Sir Pentious reached his tail inside in hopes of reaching for the satchel without detection. Instead, he caught Martin. When he retracted the tip of his tail, he hovered it, allowing the egg boi to dangle. "Phew! Gee, thanks, Boss!" "You idiot!!! Where's the satchel? And where's that-" Roxane staggered from the collection of fire and ash, with the Captain's satchel over her shoulder. Looking exhausted, but nonetheless determined, Sir Pentious really stared at her, shocked and perhaps even a little in awe. The flames from behind her gave her a bold, yet regal appearance as she wearily stepped towards him. Her hair flew around her thin face and the fire matched her bright, brilliant red and orange eyes. He couldn’t look away from them.

She was beautiful.

The mongoose stopped at the feeling of something behind her. Sir Pentious extended his tail at the sight of a clawed hand reaching out from behind her. Roxane lifted her fists to fight. After a hard punch to Captain Mermeoth's face (at which even the cobra himself had to smirk a little), Roxane's ankle was tugged away by his tail, causing her to be fall away, back to the alley where Sir Pentious stood. He grabbed both her purse and the Captain's satchel and took her away from the scene. The Egg Bois followed him. The collection of demons hurried from alleyway to alleyway, until they were far enough from the wreckage for Roxane to struggle in his grip and rip her hand away. "Let go of me!" she whispered. She shook her hand to help ease away his tight, though strangely warm grip. "There," she breathed in and out, tired from running. He briefly glanced at her, a little dumbfounded, before reaching inside. His smile spread from side to side as he pulled out what looked like a one hundred page document covered in tiny words, blue prints, and maps detailing the entirety of the Inferno and the best places to hide from the purging creatures. The Egg Bois climbed on top of each other, forming a ladder of sorts, with Curtis on the bottom and Samuel on top. He and Roxane looked over Sir Pentious's shoulder and 'oohed' and 'ahhed' over the overflow of information. The cobra looked over at Roxane and quietly pondered her. She was quick on her feet, evidently smart, and extremely capable, and the strangest part about it was, he didn't necessarily disapprove of her taking a look.

Sirens suddenly rang at them, causing Sir Pentious to grab the bois and Roxane and bolt away as fast as he could, leaving a ranting Captain of the Guard.

...

In the days following the annual purge, Roxane walked cautiously towards Sir Pentious's home, making sure she wasn't being followed. The bruises and scratches from wearing shorts during her initial conflict with the serpent were all nearly healed, now that the dust had settled. In time, people came out of their homes and gave into the same vices they'd fallen for in the past. Some let their hands wander upon the bodies of others, other stuffed their faces with food and drink, and a few spewed blatant falsehoods. "Oh yeah, you should've seen it. I smashed 'em and I ripped those purgers to pieces. No demon killer can sneak up on me and get off scott free!" Roxane softly scoffed. "I will admit; it was really neat of Sir Pentious to tell people where to go and how to prep for the invasion," a pink and yellow demon woman with one eye piped up. Roxane smiled as she turned towards his house. "Sounds like his plan is working," she thought. She dashed to the front door of his two story home. Though she knew she could walk right in, she knocked on the door anyway, quickly parting her feet and extending her arms. When the doors opened, an Egg Bois holding a shotgun answered. "Y-Yes?" he asked. "YIPES!" "Ooh lunch!" Roxane replied, almost teasing. She lunged for the boi, who kicked his legs around at her firm hands on his egg shell. "Oh no not again!" he cried. "Save me, Boss! Save me!!" "Roxane," Sir Pentious replied, standing in the foyer with his arms folded. Roxane dangled him over her open mouth before looking at an annoyed cobra. "Drop him." The mongoose groaned and dropped the egg, who dashed behind the snake, holding his tail from behind him. "That's right, egg. Scramble to your Boss!" Roxane replied with a facetious wink. The boi trembled, and Sir Pentious rolled his eyes. "Matthew, go find the others. See if they need anything." "Yes, yes, of course!" the boi replied, hurrying towards the meeting hall. Sir Pentious curved an eyebrow at her, as she put her hands behind her back, appearing innocent. "Now, don't you start with that little smirk, silly mongoose," he warned, as she winked at him. She walked up to him, looking pleased at the smile trying to grow on his lips. He took her up the stairs to a door in the hallway, which he opened to reveal a gold and dark gray colored office. "Close the door behind you, if you please," Sir Pentious replied. "Oh, sure," she replied as he slithered past his blinking hat on his rack. It watched Roxane as she briefly glanced at it. Once she sat down in front of his desk, it grinned at him. Sir Pentious noticed and squinted at it, causing it to give him a knowing look. "So, Roxane-" he began, as she put her hands in her lap. "Mmh-hmm?" "I can safely say that my purge plan is working just about as well as I hoped it would. I heard on the radio that even our good friend, the Captain, had a less than pleasant experience during the actual conflict," Sir Pentious replied with a diabolical grin. Roxane chuckled at a beam she found rather amusing. "I think so too. I heard someone compliment you on the way here,” she pointed out. "Good, good, I had deduced that someone would. While I've got you-" Sir Pentious replied, beckoning her to lean forward, with his finger. She did so, and emphasized her ear with her own to listen in. "-though I've got a jump start of popularity going around, I need you to do me a favor." "Might as well; I've done a few for you already," Roxane replied in a teasing tone. Normally, Sir Pentious wouldn't have approved, but at this point, he expected it. "And I've done a couple for you, don't forget! I had hoped that you appreciated hiding here during the purge as an expression of my...thanks, I suppose," he replied. The hat grinned at him, at which he stared it down. Roxane nodded. "I did, thank you, and I appreciate you letting me get out and get some nice warm air after those creeps left," she returned. A mild blush almost flared up before he turned his head around. "Of course; I mean, it wouldn't have been very gentlemanly of me to keep a relatively new acquaintance of mine cooped up here in the aftermath of the worst inconvenience I get all year. In fact, now that the worst is over for the year, I have a job for you." "Aah, good, the commission you promised," Roxane reminded him. "If you succeed of course. Task first, payment second; that was our deal." "Fine, fine," she admitted. The cobra smirked as he handed her a map of Katie Killjoy's television studio and dressing room, plus a picture of a light pink, ovular pill. "Last night, one of my bois," he said this with a hint of aggravation. "-lost a very powerful sedative I asked him to pick up and present to me. I had intended on planting it in Angel Dust's regular drug intake. My boi's partner saw Killjoy's co-anchor, Tom, pick it up and take it to the studio before he could grab it. It's not a lethal drug, but it can put its consumer in a powerful sleep. It would give me more than enough time to surround his gang, overtake them, and claim his terf. But before I can do that, I need to take back that sedative and any footage their cameras may have of it. Knowing Killjoy, her crew are probably working on a big story about it right now. This is where you come in: I want you to sneak into the station, find the sedative, and bring it and any footage her cameras may have picked up of it. Better yet, if you find any, bring the cameras to me. A good dismantling should do the trick." Roxane nodded and hummed, as he explained his story, and placed her hand on the desk. "Consider it done, and don't forget: 20 credits/hour, starting as soon as you send me out." "If you succeed." "I think I will. I'm a quick, tough lady, sir," she explained, flexing an arm muscle. She tapped her fist to his cheek, causing him to lose control of that light pink blush to his cheeks. Her gentle fist on his skin helped him feel strangely warm before he cleared his throat. "Yes, well, if I were you, I'd get going. Your commission starts now. Don't die on the way back and hands off my bois." "Alright, alright," she said. She walked towards the door, and spared him one last glance, before she smiled. “Oh and Sir Pentious?” He looked up at her. "Thanks."

With that, she was gone. The snake's muscles stiffened, before he noticed his hat grinning at him. He loosened them and flexed his jacket.

"Yes well...pleasant girl," he assured himself.

#Hazbin Hotel #modtime #Sir Pentious #vivienne medrano #Roxane #fanfiction #vivziepop #OCs #the Egg Bois

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pixel-creates · 7 years

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The Tomarry Fic Rec Post That No One Asked For

You are all welcome, by the way.

BYR: Some fics contain questionable and just wtf material. I try to mark down warnings as best as I can, but for longer stories, I have forgotten exact details. Please heed whatever warnings I did remember and if you have further questions about specific stories, please feel free to ask. Especially since some stories often have circumstances surrounding a certain material that could use more clarification than a warning phrase.

The Glass Serpent and the Dark Horse by KaedeRavensdale

In which Tom Riddle Senior never could fully put Merope’s claims of being pregnant out of his mind and set out to bring his child home, unwittingly changing the fate of both the Wizarding and Muggle worlds and laying waste to the machinations of a certain scheming old man.

Warnings: Currently WIP, AU, Tom is growing up in Harry’s time, Tom Riddle Senior is fucking badass my guys, slow-moving, incomplete

Also Rec: In the Heart of the Sea (Merpeople/Siren AU, Mpreg)

(Currently reading this and enjoying the hell out of it. It’s one of the few fics I’ve read where TR Sr. isn’t abusive or completely apathetic to Tom. The plotline of him having magic kind of makes me go ._. at times, but I’m putting faith in the author!!)

A Fundamental Ingredient by Stellanti Nocte

Voldemort, always in search of immortality, uses a ritual to transform himself into an immortal hybrid creature. One of the two creatures is a Veela. He expects to find Bellatrix as his mate, but soon finds that it's Harry Potter.

Warnings: Creature!Voldemort, underage sex, one-shot, complete

(I was still in my Drarry/Tomarry phase, and while constantly reading Drarry, I’d practically eat creature stories. Thus, I of course found and read this story. While it eventually ends with smut, the story is pretty lengthy before it.)

Bleeding Love by Tango Dancer

15 years ago, they sealed him away never to see the light again. Now that his innocence has been proven, they want him back, but what they find is a broken man. Will they manage to get over the secrets and get his trust back after all the pain?

Warnings: LV/HP/LM Threesome, MPreg, referenced sexual and physical abuse, scarring, mental trauma, complete

(Goodness, it has been a while since I’ve last read it, but just seeing the title makes me want to read it again. This was also the fic that introduced me to LM/HP, though I have no love or much care for the pairing since I was already heavily shipping JP/LM. Regardless, this is a fun fic to read and re-read. Some concepts brought up in the last parts are kind of weird because they make references to fics the author has yet to write, however.)

A Knight's Love by Nillen

Once upon a time, in a far away kingdom, there lived a King.

Warnings: AU, Sexual Assault (not between Tomarry), Character Death, OOCness, complete

(This story makes me wonder why we don’t have more Healer!Harry in Tomarry stories.)

Bonded One by Stephke23

As a last resort to believe in love, Tom calls for his bonded one and pulls Harry through time, to him.

Warnings: Time Travel AU, one instance of rape, 250k+ words, manipulations, torture, physical assault, incomplete, ect...

(YOOOO, this is literally one of the first fics I read when starting Tomarry and possibly the main reason why I’m still hooked. I was reading this baby back when it still had 22 chapters. It’s long as fuck, but so worth it. HIGHLY RECOMMENDED)

Figments Forever by nat rulz

Love, the most powerful force on earth. Voldemort, the most powerful Dark Lord ever. Vendo Diligo, the most potent love potion that exists. Harry Potter, the unfortunate victim subjected to all three. Emotions are wicked things.

Warnings: love potions, character death, tears are not included, complete

(It’s been a while since I read this, but goodness if this still doesn’t make my heart hurt)

Full Circle by tetsurashian

Harry and Tom's souls are tied together. Which is why they're in this endless loop of rebirth. At some point, they stopped caring and just started fucking with people.

Warnings: Rebirth AU, Incomplete

(Please read this. I can’t say much about it because it’s a comedy story, but my goodness, you will not regret opening your mind to the BS Harry puts the world through. RECOMMENDED)

The Dark Lord’s Children Series by CrazyJanaCat

Warnings: Dead Dove Don’t Eat, Mpreg, Rape, Stockholm Syndrome, Miscarriage, Sexual Slavery, Humiliation, complete

Also rec: Harrymort One-Shots (similar warnings apply), How to prevent a War (Time Travel AU)

(This author writes more on the darker side for those are inclined to it. However, How to Prevent a War is a lot more light-hearted and was a lot of fun to read.)

Literally anything by Watermelonsmellinfellon/Mister-Tom-A-Dildo-Lover

Various warnings can apply so I advise reading the warning tags on AO3 before reading them on their FFN account

Notable Mentions: Σίγμα Τρία, The Consort Tournament, All it Takes is a Star, Strive, Matchmaker, Matchmaker, I Will Always Come Back To You, It Was a Joke: The Foretold Note

(I could go on for days about how much I love their writing. My goodness, they are up there with RenderedReverse for my fav Tomarry/Harrymort writers)

47 Days to Change (a translation) by snow_owl01

Harry Potter and Tom Riddle are enemies, born adversaries, prophesied leaders of opposite factions.

2001 to 1932, forty-seven days to change the fate of the Dark Lord.

This is a 'Harry travels back in time to raise Tom' story. An unfortunate tale of one man's failed attempt to mold young Tom into a decent, law-abiding citizen. Instead, as Fate will have it, young Tom grows up to become the same twisted psychopath, who is hell-bent on winning the love of his adoptive father. Harry's consent be damned.

Warnings: Time Travel AU, English translation from Chinese, Harry is fucked, did you fucking see that summary, HARRY IS FUCKED, incomplete

One-shot that’s not connected to canon story aside from setting: Here (Mpreg, Rape, Explicit Sex)

(*softly to myself* f u c k. Aside from that, this is probably the fic that started my kink for Tomarry Time Travel AUs. RECOMMENDED)

Kisses Cursed by The_Fictionist

Some said he was once a man, cursed, and some that he sold his soul to demons and became one in turn. Others said that such evil as he could never have been human. That he was instead a nightmare, left lingering upon the earth a very long time ago.

Harry just knew it wasn't safe to walk near the Riddle House after dark.

Warnings: Loosely inspired by Beauty and the Beast, Character Death, complete

Also Rec: Solace in Shadows (Incomplete, AU) , Impressing Professor Potter (sexual innuendos)

(This falls into the category of: I really love this fic but it put them through such a state that I don’t want to read it again anytime soon. RECOMMENDED)

The Dysfuctional Riddle Family by teecup_angel

Warnings: (post) Mpreg, Baby Daddy Drama, AU, Harry Potter is Tom’s “Mother”, Reincarnation, Rebirth, complete

(This series is a dramatic comedy, and boy can you tell from the first story. I wish and wish with all my might that the author will one day continue with a third part of the series.)

Ineluctability by BeatDobby

As their connection strengthens, Potter falls into Riddle's possesion. However, the obvious isn't exactly truth in this case.

Warnings: Uhh... I think this story is rather plotty, AU, complete

(I... honestly don’t remember much about this story. I remember enjoying it, but it also fell into the “Put me through a moment and now I’m not sure if I’ll reread it” category.)

An echo of the past by TosMichiyo

Messing with time is dangerous. Every Wizard and Witch knows that. However Tom Riddle wasn’t going to let that stop him. He wanted and needed to know what the future would bring. He just didn’t know that some things are better left unknown.

When Harry faces someone who resembles Tom Riddle and the male claims to be to be Voldemort’s son, Marvolo Slytherin, he instantly grows wary of the other. Marvolo however proves him wrong every time and Harry can’t help but feel a growing connection between them.

Warnings: Maniplations, Sane Tom Riddle, Time Travel, past child abuse, Dimension Hopping, AU, incomplete

(I just really like this author’s writing style in general)

Inheritance by MidnightEmber

Salazar Slytherin bound Earth, Air, Fire and Water to himself and through him to his descendants. Now that Voldemort has been resurrected he shall assume his inheritance. But who are his elementals?

Warnings: Mentor!Snape, Possible underage relationship?? The story is still incomplete/slow moving so I can’t be sure. Torture and death happens, though.

(Similar to Bonded One, this is a story I recall reading when I first started getting into Tomarry. I rec it mostly because I enjoyed the story a lot and I think others would too, keeping in mind it’s still incomplete.)

Little Seer by HuskyWalker

Voldemort won the first war. Harry is happy to live as an unnoticed squib at Hogwarts. Unfortunately, visions and rebels don't allow that and Harry soon catch the attention of the dark lord.

Warnings: Seer/Squib!Harry, Mentor/Father-figure!Snape, fights occur, complete

Also rec: The Sanctuary (Time Travel AU, Creature Inheritance, Post-War!Harry, incomplete)

(I read this back when I was only on FFN, and it’s been a while. However, I really enjoyed just about everything this story had to offer. There is supposed to be a sequel in the works as well, but the author has not been present for some time. HIGHLY RECOMMENDED)

Meant To Be by phoenixmaiden13

One Night of passion leads to drastic consequences that changes the war completely. Harry must go into hiding to protect himself and his most guarded secret. But will that secret bring Harry and Tom together? Only if it is Meant to Be.

Warnings: Rape, Mpreg, OOC, incomplete

Also Rec: Rapunzel, Rapunzel, Where is Your Hair? (One-shot, AU, Complete)

(I really enjoyed the first twentyish chapters. After that, the story becomes aimless. I’m not sure if the author is trying to build up to something, but it has been slow moving for the last six chapters. I still rec it, but keep in mind the slow period.)

New Divide by Aisling-Siobhan (AO3)

Harry Potter is the BWL and by some twist of Fate he was also the reincarnation of Voldemort's murdered lover. Plagued by memories of his past life and smarter than before everything is about to change. And then Voldemort finds out who Harry really is.

Warnings: Reincarnation AU, Mpreg, Drama, Character Death, Complete

(I have so many good things to say about this fic, that I don’t know what to say at all. HIGHLY RECOMMENDED)

Teaching History (is Old News) by You_Light_The_Sky

In which Tom is the DADA professor at Hogwarts, secretly recruiting followers for his future army, and Harry is the worst Divination professor ever, accidentally messing up Tom’s plans.

Warnings: AU, Humor, Incomplete

(In the portion of the story available, it’s a lot of fun to read the shenanigans Harry and Tom get into. RECOMMENDED)

Second chances by slayer of destiny (AO3)

Fate decides to play with Harry's life again, giving him a chance at a family but with the most shocking father. After the Order lock him up Harry flees to the father where they both may get a second chance.

Warnings: Mpreg, AU, Teeters on being domestic at times

(Once more, I blame my internet for giving out before I could finish, but I do rec it.)

Penpals by nekoanima

What if Harry had a pen pal as a child another boy who was all alone? Harry makes friends with the young Tom Riddle as their letters bounce through time to the one they needed the most.

Warnings: Fluffy af, Tom thinks Harry is a girl, AU, Incomplete

(This is a really cute story. I really like young!Harry and young!Tom being friends; because I really believe that in another life, they’d mesh pretty well together. RECOMMENDED)

Rebuilt by Terrific Lunacy

After society as we know it collapsed, humanity struggled for survival. Slowly a new society begins to establish. Groups led by lords battle for territory. Young Harry Potter has no interest in joining local politics, but when a new lord with unconventional ideas sees the potential in his unique talents, can Harry remain neutral?

Warnings: Post-apocalyptic, Inventor!Harry, AU, Incomplete

(I ended up not reading past ch 24 because I lost internet and never picked it up again, but this story was just so great. HIGHLY RECOMMENDED)

Schooled by WyrdSmith (AO3)

7th Year Gryffindors learn why it is never a good idea to piss off Ravenclaw Hadrian Morgan. His payback during Professor Slytherin's class is BEAUTIFUL. In carrying it out, orphaned pureblood Hadrian catches the interest and libido of the present Lord Marvolo Slytherin, who -- with the assistance of the entire Slytherin student body as well as a few other surprising characters -- tries to lure Morgan into his life and his bed. But just how naive is Hadrian Morgan, really?

Warnings: AU, LV is a professor, Explicit, Takes place in 1945, Incomplete

(Y E S. HIGHLY RECOMMENDED)

Red Hood, Red Blood by Fairygirl34

War between Man and Wolf had gone on long before Harry became a Wolf Slayer. With his two rifles, he slaughters the monsters who took everything from him and the villagers. No wolf has been able to defeat him but Harry just might meet his match.

Warnings: Blood, Violence, Werewolf!Tom, Slayer!Harry, Harry has bloodlust, Incomplete

Also rec: Nursery Rhyme AU Series (Can be bloody/dark), Baby, You’re Mine Series (Office Boss!Tom, Character Death)

(Just about any time this updates, I’m there devouring the next chapter.)

Running Up That Hill by rightonthelimit

When Harry witnesses a deaf boy named Tom getting harassed, he’s quick to stand up for him. At that moment he doesn’t know Tom is going to be the love of his life, and he doesn’t know what’s going on inside Tom’s mind. He never will.

Warnings: Deaf!Tom, High School AU, Sexual Content, One-shot, Complete

(It’s been a while, but I do remember enjoying this fic a lot)

Divine by ObsidianPen

Voldemort, the God of the Underworld and Master of the Dead, most feared of all the Gods by the mortals of the world...was lonely.

Warnings: God AU, Greek mythology inspired. Hades!Voldemort, Persephone!Harry. Dark, Explicit, Rape, Incomplete

Also Rec: No Glory (Voldemort Wins AU, torture, character death)

(I was seriously craving a mythology fic right around this fic was first published. It fills that quota very well though I sometimes wish it had went along the “Persephone wanted dat ass” route.)

More Precious than Rubies by Strange_Soulmates

Harry Potter has recently escaped from his dragon-guarded tower. So has his fellow prisoner - the dragon who was enchanted to guard him. Harry's friend is missing, however, and so he sets off to assure himself of his well-being before he finds the person responsible for imprisoning them both. Accompanied by a stranger with a familiar name, Harry finds himself with more questions than answers as he slowly learns about the customs of dragons and the history of the dragon he befriended, the fearsome Voldemort.

Warnings: Fairytale AU, Dragon!Tom, Possessive Behavior, Complete

(I have never been so upset that a story isn’t updated when all that’s left is the very last chapter. Heart = Broken. HIGHLY RECOMMENDED)

Eros by leontina (Leontina)

Tom is the newly appointed Headmaster at Hogwarts, which means it's up to him to deal with the trouble-making Potter twins. When he meets their father, Harry, Tom is instantly drawn to him and plans on making Harry his.

Warnings: Referenced Past!Har/Gin, Headmaster!Tom, Child OCs, One-shot, Complete

(If you like single-dad Harry and Headmaster Tom, then please just click that link already. HIGHLY RECOMMENDED)

Betrayal of A Different Kind by vampiric_mcd

The war did not end with a magical battle, but by a contract of convenience. And now, Harry Potter has to live with the consequences of a choice he made several years ago. Not everyone supports the conditions of their brave new world and that might threathen to destroy everything the Light and Dark have worked together to achieve.

Warnings: Arranged Marriage AU, Politics, Infidelity, Possessive Behavior, Guerrilla Warfare, Incomplete

(the one fic about arranged marriage that is multi chap and not stolen - and it hasn’t been updated in months)

Solamen Miseris by Paimpont

A year after the final battle, select death eaters are given the chance to complete a "redemption program" where they must live without magic for six months under supervision. Harry is assigned to watch over a mysterious dark wizard who has been locked up in a secret cell at the Ministry since the battle.

Warnings: One-shot, complete

Also Rec: To the Waters and the Wild (honestly one of the funniest stories I’ve read)

(Uh.... It’s been a really long time...)

Some Other Beginning's End by BelovedShadow

Harry reveals the fact that he is a horcrux to Voldemort during the final battle, and Voldemort decides to keep Harry safe and protected. Knowing that he and Voldemort are the only two people who will live forever, Harry distances himself from everyone but Voldemort, and develops a growing fascination with the man and his dark, peculiar, ways

Warnings: Mpreg, Non-Deathly Hallows Compliant, complete

(I remember liking it, but I also don’t remember it.)

Your Name on My Heart by whitedandelions (AO3)

Bearing the Dark Lord's soul mark on his chest certainly isn't easy when his family is firmly on the Light Side.

Warnings: Soulmate AU, Twins!Harry and James, twists, dark at times, set in past, incomplete

Also Rec: Una Animarum (Soulmate AU, Harry can see magic)

(I am at the edge of my seat after the latest chapter, holy crap this story is getting better and better. HIGHLY RECOMMENDED)

Through your black hair, my hands, Alt Translation by tinanl

Harry lost the war and died but ended up in the past, first meeting six year old Tom Riddle, then attending Hogwarts where Prof. Riddle was teaching DADA, love moves in mysterious ways

Warnings: English Translation from Chinese, Time Travel AU

Latest translation by Marcell13

(Some parts don’t make much sense, but I’m chalking it up to it being a translation. Tinanl actually got really far with the translation. You’ll see it as the one chapter actually contains several chapters. It’s a lot of fun to read, though I will warn of MPreg, but I don’t recall the chapters getting to that point the last time I read. I also have not read CrownedPhoenix’s translation nor Marcell13′s, but Marcell13 is the currently updating translation. HIGHLY RECOMMENDED.)

The Snake and His Lion by iWannaPetYourPetPeacock

Harrison Evans is the Slytherin's 'pet lion.' But what happens when one Slytherin forgets that only person Harry belongs to, is Tom Riddle?

Warnings: Sexual Assault (not between Tomarry) Possessive Behavior, complete

(I read this about a year ago? I don’t think it aged particularly well, but there are bits that I still like)

The Artifice of Eternity by Lomonaaeren

Strange events lead to the resurrection of Tom Riddle- not quite a Horcrux, not quite a Veela.

Warnings: Post-war, Veela!Tom, Mating, Sexual Content, One-shot, complete

Also Rec: His Twenty-Eighth Life (Time Travel/Dimension Hopping AU, Master of Death!Harry)

(Really nice take on the creature inheritance plotline. I often come back to read this story when on long trips. HIGHLY RECOMMENDED)

BigJellyMonster, just BigJellyMonster

Notable Mentions: The Diary of Tom Riddle, Shared, Moments

Work can include: Possessive Behavior, Sexual Content

Not Strong Enough by Sayon_170

He was going to give Tom the one thing he never had: Love.

After months of preparation, Harry was ready to go back in time and meet the source of all his pain and misery: Tom Riddle. Harry would give him his unconditional love, and that would change everything— he would make a new future, one that ended with his eternal rest and a content, complete soul. Harry never thought of failure as a possibility. He would realize too late that Life and Fate were fickle, ancient beings that answered to no one. And so Harry left to the past, a time where Tom Riddle was still redeemable, to love and change Tom for the better and create a newer, happier future— nary a thought to what Fate had in store for him.

Warnings: Possessive Behavior, Time Travel AU, OCs, Power Play/Imbalance, Politics, Underage sex, Incomplete

(You will see that I am a huge lover of the fix-it AUs. RECOMMENDED)

of demons and mortals by rayfelle

Harry is a mage. Tom is a demon Prince sealed in an ugly doll.

Warnings: Modern AU, One-shot, Complete

(Beautiful. RECOMMENDED)

Frozen Coffee by Rhodium

Harry was sure his mind must have short-circuited for a second, because it sounded like Riddle, his megalomaniac micromanaging boss who had a stick permanently stuck up his ass, had just asked him out on a date.

"What, like a date?" He blurted out, his mind-to-mouth filter as degraded as the one in the coffee machine. Harry immediately clapped his hands over his mouth, failing to hold back in the words that had already fallen from his lips.

Then, to his surprise, his uptight cold-hearted boss fidgeted.

What the…

Or, the story where Harry believes that his boss, Tom Riddle, is a heartless robot...and then they go ice skating

Warnings: Sassiness, Modern AU, Boss!Tom, Worker!Harry, Harry on Ice, One-shot, complete

(I don’t read a lot of non-magic AUs because I feel like magic is a core part of the series/characters and needs to be a part of the story in some form, but damn if this isn’t a story I wouldn’t mind making an exception of.)

Home by Acnara

“Are you lonely?”

Always the same conversation.

“Maybe. Sometimes.”

“Sometimes I am, too. I think.”

---

Six years after the battle of Hogwarts and the death of the Dark Lord, Harry Potter dreams of a little girl in a forest. Because it was never really over.

Warnings: Delphini, one-shot, complete

(fuCK. RECOMMENDED)

The 'L' Word by eaivalefay

Well. Potter was his husband. Voldemort was vaguely certain there was some unwritten Code out there dictating that spouses were allowed to do such things.

Warnings: Fluff, one-shot, short, complete

(I just realized that I don’t read much fluff!Tomarry, whereas with SNS or SoRiku, I’m all about huge mixes of fluff and angst.)

Definitions and cages by Clarisse (transnymphtaire)

You can't help but get emotionally attached to someone after 14 years connected to their soul.

Voldemort only wants to keep Harry safe, from the war and from the impostor.

Warnings: Rapunzel AU in canon, definitions everywhere

(As I remembered this story, a cackle left my mouth. Take that as you will.)

Demons of The Past by leontina (Leontina)

Harry and Tom were childhood sweethearts who broke up in their final year of Hogwarts when Tom's fascination with the Dark Arts became too much for Harry. Five years later Tom is slowly taking over the Ministry, and meets Harry again when he is arrested for rioting against the Ministry--and neither of them ever quite got over the other.

Also Rec: I Will Possess Your Heart (Modern AU)

Warnings: AU, Friends to Lovers to Enemies to Lovers, Possessive Behavior, Dom/Sub Undertones, incomplete

(It may be incomplete, but my life became a little bit more whole while reading it.)

Badgers and Snakes by partofforever (edvic)

“And he’s a Hufflepuff,” Orion added with a grimace. “No way we can stick with him.” “I will.”

Harry Potter and Tom Riddle are childhood friends. When Harry gets sorted to Hufflepuff, their relationship is put under pressure.

Warnings: Hufflepuff!Harry, 1940s/Tom’s Hogwarts time, Childhood friends, complete

(I don’t remember this one as well, but I remember a lot of cheeky!Harry and fluff.)

yebisu by slexenskee (Sambomaster)

For the record, Harry is only here for his time-travelling kids.

Voldemort can fuck off.

Warnings: God!Harry, Divorce, Master of Death!Harry, MPreg, Time Travel AU, incomplete

Also Rec: Cheap (Bad) Dance Moves (God!Harry, OCs, Lots of mature material), yebisu: solid dance (mpreg, Voldemort Wins AU)

(With that summary, how can you not want to to read? I mean, that was my thought process when I first saw it. RECOMMENDED)

Hem of Your Garment by adVENTitiious

How much can one person change another?

Warnings: Time Travel AU, Amnesiac!Harry

(Between the growing relationship between Harry and Tom and Avery being Best Friend™, I am in love. RECOMMENDED)

Dinner of Deception by XxXxDarkVampirexXxX

A dinner party gone wrong. A group of Light and Dark members gather for a celebratory dinner, which is cut short when one of them turns up dead. How did this happen? Who did this? Are they dining with a murderer? Well...yes, but would the Dark really be so eager to break the peace treaty? Would anyone?

Warnings: Character Death, Mystery, Post-War AU, Incomplete

Also Rec: Easy Fear (not really a Tomarry as it’s currently General, but still a fun read)

(I plan to re-read when it’s finished because the suspense was killing me back when it had 11 chapters. xD)

Dark Adrenaline by Katsitting (Nekositting)

He was a snake—definitely. A conniving man that forced people into corners simply because he wanted to see if he could. He cared little for the feelings of others, using them just as he was using Harry to attract the attention of the political socialites in the Gala. Harry had suspected there was a far more hidden game at play when he had been in the hotel with him earlier, having caught that Riddle had set his machinations on him rather than on prominent figures in the hall.

But how the bloody hell was he supposed to know it would end up like this?

Warnings: Dub-Con, Power Dynamics, No Lube/Painful Sex, Escort!Harry, Politician!Tom, No Magic, One-shot, Complete

Also Rec: Speaking in Tongues (series of one-shots of various plotlines), I'll Eat Your Heart Out, Sir (Professor AU in which Tom gets splashed with a lust/love potion)

(Looking at those warnings, you can just feel the��‘ouch’. I still insist a cursory look considering this is 8k+ words of plot. RECOMMENDED)

in death we seek devotion by flat_teeth (onetrickpony)

Voldemort lives, Harry does not. In which Tom Riddle has been purposefully killing his soulmate every time they reincarnate. Kill an individual enough times, when all they want is to be cared for and loved, to be accepted—of course they will come back different. They become someone else.

Warnings: Soulmate AU, Implied Underage Sex, Tom Keeps Killing Harry

(Damn it, Tom.)

A Lesson in Defense by thecrimsonmonarch

Maybe they were destined to always be obsessed with each other.

Warnings: Time Travel/Fix It AU, Professor!Harry, One-shot, Complete

(A short, but funny fic for those who want something a little light.)

House of Snakes by flitterflutterfly (Will be updated eventually under skylarjaye)

At 30 years old, divorced, and headmaster of Hogwarts, Harry Potter doesn't have the life he'd always dreamed would come after defeating Voldemort. A chance discovery in the Chamber of Secrets allows him an opportunity to go back in time and change some things. Wherein Harry—now Hadrian—raises his younger self, dances the political dance with Death Eaters and a resurrected Tom Marvolo Riddle, and searches for a way to stop the destruction of the magical world.

Warnings: Harry Raises Harry, Time Travel AU, Courtship, Manipulative!Dumbledore, Politics, Incomplete

(I’ve always been a little iffy by the ‘x raises themself’ plot, but reading one for the first time, I found myself enjoying it a lot. RECOMMENDED)

Animus, Anima: English version by Maiathoustra

In limbo, Harry doesn't choose to go back to the Forbidden Forest to face Voldemort. He makes another decision and finds himself in a baby's body: little Tom Riddle.

Years pass and intimately bind the orphan and his imaginary friend, in an hopeless incestuous relationship. Indeed, all the odd events of Tom Riddle's life happen in spite of Harry's presence: could it be the one who provokes them?

This is Tom Riddle's entire life, as close to canon as possible, if he shared his body with Harry Potter (and fell in love with him).

Warnings: Time Travel AU (kind of), English Translation from French, Harry is stuck in Tom’s head, Mature content, Protective Behavior (from Harry)

(So the author is translating their own fic into English. I will definitely be checking out the French version because this fic is just soo goood. I will admit that their are some phrases and words that don’t make a lot of sense, but I chalk it up to English not being the author’s first language. HIGHLY RECOMMENDED)

Only The Good by RepentingSirens

It's late at night, and Harry decides to text his ex-boyfriend/ex-best friend. It doesn't turn out as well as expected.

Warnings: Sad, and not in the usual way, Texting, Modern AU. One-shot, Complete

(Briefly re-read it to remember warnings, and wow, I wasn’t expecting for some scars to be prodded at. RECOMMENDED)

To Be Set Free by Merrinpippy

Harry Potter, raised and abused by the Dursleys ever since his parents died, lives in the cupboard under the stairs. He has no friends or family who love him and his life is dull until one day a letter arrives arrives for him, written in green ink, that promises freedom. Sounds familiar, right?

King Thomas Riddle's illness combined with his political paranoia pushes him to arrange three royal balls, after which his son, Prince Tom Riddle, must choose a guest to marry, thereby securing the kingdom's future and solidifying their strength in the eyes of their allies/enemies. Tom is convinced that he will be able to defy his father and choose no-one, or at least he is until at the first ball he meets an attractive stranger with dark hair and glasses who won't tell anyone his name...

Warnings: Cinderella AU, Complete

Also Rec: Kings of Flowers and Skulls (Fairytale AU, Implied Child Abuse), We Are Gods (Blood, Death), Ignoring the Issue (Jealous!Tom), Three Things (Possessive Behavior), Jealousy (Time Travel AU)

(Honestly, their characterization of Harry and Tom resonates really well with me. I rec a good chunk of their stories; the ones I haven’t are ones I haven’t read yet. HIGHLY RECOMMENDED)

Fears by amortentia_on_her_lips

Warnings: The very first chapter includes a table of contents with warnings for each one-shot.

(In this series, each chapter is a one-shot with little to not correlation with one another. They’re each based off of a fear.)

He who Loves Death by brizo

The teen across from him wore a wild grin. Grey eyes widened in lust and excitement with his normally immaculate dark brown hair in disarray. The teens hands were covered in the blood of the body he was standing in front of. “Welcome home darling. I have a present for you.” He grinned sharply.'

In which even as a muggle Tom Riddle is still a murdering lunatic except he does it to summon Death. Who he courts.

Harry is kinda flattered.

Warnings: Master of Death!Harry, Blood, Killing, Serial Killer!Tom

(I don’t even know who to say ‘Damn it, character’ about. RECOMMENDED)

White Innocence by emriel

Harry is given another chance to live but there is a catch. He wakes up in the past. Thinking it was all a mistake, Harry plots to get back but has the misfortune of attracting the attention of Tom Riddle. They become friends and Tom starts to feel things that are foreign to him. So he keeps Harry close. What starts as curiosity turns into an obsession.

Warnings: Time Travel AU, Possessive Behavior, Manipulation, Drama, Incomplete

(I honestly need to revisit this one. I had read through the available chapters not too long ago, but I forgot some specific details about what it’s about.)

The Closing Of The Year by kcstories

After his divorce, Harry Potter moves in with Tom Riddle. So does his ten-year-old son Albus Severus, who tries his utmost to get used to his new surroundings and to the strange, sinister man his dad has fallen in love with.

Warnings: Post-War AU, Referenced Past!Har/Gin, Fluff

(Honestly, this is fluff among all the dramatic and angst stories. A nice feel-good fluff at that.)

If Them's the Rules by MayMarlow

Unable to accept the aftermath of the war, Harry decides to travel back in time to become the parent Tom Riddle obviously should have had. Except that things don't go as planned and Harry finds himself part of a game with hidden rules, trying to survive while raising a boy whose understanding of family has nothing to do with love.

Warnings: Time Travel/Fix-It AU, Non-Con (not between Tomarry), Politics, slow moving, incomplete

Also Rec: Don't Fuck With Florists (They'll Fuck You Up) (Time Travel AU, A good mix of funny and plot)

(The biggest thing that I appreciate about this story is that it takes its time to develop more on the childhood Tom has with Harry. It’s also one of the biggest auuughhhh because it sometimes feels that it took too long or that some of the chapters could be combined. Nevertheless, this a read I think a lot of people would enjoy. HIGHLY RECOMMENDED)

Their Verdict of Vagaries by Angstier

"All who fall under your gaze become accused of a silent crime… and I am yet to understand why." -Riddle.

Warnings: Time Travel AU, Gray!Harry, Harry gets fucked, Complete

(How do I even describe this story. Okay, so I read this story right after I read New Divide, and got this double whammy of angst. I even wrote a small college essay on it because it’s so freaking good. This story is on a certain level of fuckititude and rec everyone to at least try it. HIGHLY RECOMMENDED)

The Love of a Good Wizard by SweetSorcery

History of Magic has something to teach after all, and two resourceful students decide that the key to having any future at all lies in the past, and in Tom Riddle's heart. Assuming he has one.

Warnings: Time Travel AU, PansyxMinverva, Complete

(Despite my initial hesitance when the idea of Pansy and Minerva getting together was introduced, I actually ended up enjoying the entirety of this story, them included. It’s a mix of humor, drama, and fluffy getting-togetherness as well as some sexual moments.)

The Fragrance of a Moon Orchid by nuttyasafruitcake

She had smiled warmly at him. At his ignorance, he later discovered. "Harry, lovely," A soft, warm breath on his skin. He still wondered what scent it must have had. "The ability to experience the fragrances of our world doesn't come at a certain age. It's not connected to you. It's an ability, a small piece of a puzzle, that only can be discovered by meeting a special person."

Warnings: Soulmate AU, Complete

(I’ve read a lot of soulmate identifying plots, but reading one regarding one’s sense of smell is a new one.)

Summoning Series by aroundloafofbread

Warnings: Slow Burn, Summoner!Harry, James and Lily are Alive, Creatures

(Just by reading the first chapter of the main story, you can tell that the world the author is going for is going to be huge and expansive. RECOMMENDED)

Simple Request by AnOrcaLullaby

Sure friends helped each other out when they had problems. Harry just wished Tom’s problems weren’t so damned complicated. Why couldn’t the other get some other poor soul to play the part of his fiancé?

Warnings: Harry’s Era, Childhood Friends, Fake Engagement, One-sided Har/Gin, Yule

(Now this is some holiday fluff that this fandom needs among the (well-written, might I say) angst/drama. I’m looking straight at you, Their Verdict of Vagaries. HIGHLY RECOMMENDED)

The Root of All Evil Is Love by Crystia

Tom Riddle is certain that Harry Potter loved him before the potion's fiasco

Warnings: Harry is accidentally under love potion, feels, Slytherin!Harry, Time Travel AU, Incomplete

(So, I read two stories right after the other regarding Harry being put under a love potion. This was the more engaging and consistent out of the two. It’s also a good mix of ‘stop hurting my feels’ and humor. RECOMMENDED)

In a World Gone Astray by ValloryRussups

An "ordinary" Death Eater, Harry hides his true self to survive in this world ruled by the murderer of his parents. On his way to revenge, he schemes, kills, uses unwitting people, plays games with people far superior in social standing. He doesn't have anything to lose, and the path he is walking looks clear and uncomplicated.

Until the Dark Lord himself takes an interest in him.

Warnings: Revenge, Dark!Harry, Manipulation, Dom/Sob Undertones, Torture, Voldemort Wins First War AU, Incomplete

Also Rec: From Azkaban with Love (Harry’s Time, Curse Breaker!Harry), The Librarian (Headmaster!Tom, Time Travel AU) (With Dark!Harry stories, I tend to approach with a large amount of skepticism. It’s just really hard for me to envision a Dark!Harry. However, if there has to be one, I’m glad it’s ValloryRussup’s. HIGHLY RECOMMENDED)

The Explosion by AmyTheAuthor

Usually, in other Fics, Harry goes to the past, meets an older or same age Tom in Hogwarts, and is sorted into Slytherin. Harry is usually there to change Tom and Tom is a “teenage Dark Lord.” In THIS Fic, Tom is a bullied 3rd year, believed to be a Mud-blood, and has his first ever crush on Henry Peverell, the 6th year Gryffindor, who is not there to change Tom, but rather...

Warnings: Time Travel AU (kind of), Incomplete

(Honestly, with that summary, I avoided reading this story for the longest. When I eventually came to read it after reading their other stories, this turned out to be my favorite out of them all. RECOMMENDED)

the fault of boredom by tomrian (transnymphtaire)

Tick tock says the clock, until Harry gets an insane idea that might kill him and that involves stealing pinned butterflies from a museum for a ritual that might not even work. Oh, and a fire.

Harry Potter travels back in time, and fucks shit up by pretending to be a) Voldie's son from the future b) Voldie's half-brother and c) the lovechild of Dumbledore, Ollivander and Fortescue. Because he was, is, bored.

Warnings: Time Travel AU, Crack with Plot, Incomplete, Master of Death!Harry

(A crack fic needed to be on here at one point.)

The Night He Left by VanillaGhost

After waking up in a forest to discover he’s been missing for twelve days, Harry must recover his memory if he’s to believe an old enemy and the little girl who show up the next day claiming to be his husband and daughter of nine years.

Warnings: OC child, kind of Time Travel, incomplete

Also Rec: My Name Is Tom (Future/Robot AU)

(As a currently updating fic, it’s likely to be completed soon as it’s written for the Tomarry Big Bang 2017. It’s so. Good. Every time it updates, I am so ready to read and so upset for the chapter to end. HIGHLY RECOMMENDED)

On the Matter of Obedience Series by blueshadows

Warnings: Slave fic, Sexual Content, Brainwashing, Suicide Attempt

(There had to be one of those fics on here somewhere.)

Dance with the Devil by Driverpicksthemooseic (Ratkinzluver33)

"I'm not here to hurt you, Harry. Quite the opposite, in fact. I wish to help you."

Warnings: Horcrux!Tom, Quest to Restore Voldemort’s sanity, Incomplete

(A lot of the story at the moment is dedicated to the Horcrux’s teasing and flirting with Harry. It’s great. RECOMMENDED)

the deepest secret nobody knows by Strange_Soulmates

After he is taken from Diagon Alley, Harry Potter's parents become determined to shield their child from anything and everything. While Harry is still shaken by his brief kidnapping, he finds the loneliness of his new situation far worse. When he sees a shooting star, Harry Potter wishes for two things. He wishes for a friend, and for someone who will keep him safe.

Harry is immediately surrounded by a glow, and when he opens his eyes, he finds himself in Wool's Orphanage, face-to-face with Tom Riddle, a boy two years his senior. A boy who made a similar wish.

Their time in Wool's Orphanage builds an unbreakable bond, a friendship that deepens into something more at Hogwarts. Just as the two are beginning their life together, Harry disappears just as quickly as he arrived ten years earlier.

Warnings: Kidnapping, Time Travel AU, Childhood Friends, Protective Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Complete

(The first 8-9 chapters were really great, however, the last one feels rushed and some of it didn’t seem well-explained...)

ANYTHING BY RENDEREDREVERSE. (FFN)

I SET ASIDE DAYS JUST TO RE-READ THEIR SHIT. THEY ARE ON POINT WITH EVERY SINGLE THING AND I CAN’T WITH THEM OR OR THEIR STORIES. If I was honest, I would make a completely separate post about their fics just to wank about how much I love them, but I won’t. I’ll do it here instead. Each notable notable mention gets some fanscreaming commentary from me because RR is just that good.

Notable Notable Mentions:

Pokémon AUs Series Plushies and Phone Charms by StalkerOfStories (was inspired by the above AU) (RR PLEASE. You can’t just mix these two series together and expect for a wild fan to not appear.)

Here There Be Dragons (One of the first fics I read from them and the primary reason why I can’t survive without their fics in my life. Harry messing with Voldemort and then it getting somewhat sad and lighthearted ftw.)

The Harvest God Series (*softly to myself but gets loud anyway* fuCKKKK)

Nature versus Nurture Series (You would be right to assume that the main story fucking destroyed me. Because it did. I could not stop reading and read the entire main story in almost four hours and just looking at the title makes me want to read it all again.)

Thomas Riddle and the Lamb of Dreams (This is the very first fic I ever read from RR and it was back on FFN, at first. It had always been enthralling for me to read, but I never looked up the author because I didn’t have internet. Now that I know who it is I am screeching.)

Until Death Do Us Part (I will get on the ground and beg for the last chapter if that’s what I need to. I am already aiming to make shit for this fic, what’s left for me to do. But seriously, this fic is on a level I didn’t expect from a good chunk of Tomarry fics.)

Notable Mentions:

Underneath the Boughs of an Elder Tree, Vernal Equinox, Equilibrium Series, this ain't no fairytale Series, #mfw, Kaleidoscope, 50 Heartbeats Away From Romance, Reading the Signs, Want You Back

#after doing this i stare at all the fics i read just yesterday and whisper #b u t i a l r e a d y m a d e a p o s t #but honestly #there was also so many fics i wanted to add????#but either i forgot or just couldnt gather the strength to keep on???#there's like twenty maybe sixty more fics i can add guys #dont underestimate my need to rec shit #if you want more well ask i guess lol #i wont update this at all except on my fic rec page #literally f this should be on my fic rec page but id rather make a post about them #tomarry #harrymort #fanfic recommendations #harry potter #ughghghghghgh #after i posted i realized some ppl are already on here like twice and i just auguhghghghg #i already spent four days on this i cant

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ramajmedia · 5 years

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Control Ending & Sequel Set Up Explained | Screen Rant

The Control ending leaves the future wide open while closing the door on Jesse Faden's introduction to the world of the Federal Bureau of Control. Remedy's latest video game, Control, features a provocative storyline about a mysterious government organization under attack by a supernatural threat. The lore of Control is endlessly deep and full of unexplained occurrences, mysterious characters, and direct connections to previous Remedy projects.

Control is rich in narrative, and Jesse Faden can't turn a corner without encountering a readable document, audio file, or live-action video recording. On the other hand, the main story of Control is relatively straightforward, if positively laced with Remedy's signature brand of surreal weirdness. The critical path of Control sees Jesse shoot her way through the various wings of The Oldest House, trying to take it back from the insidious and mysterious entity known as The Hiss, while also searching for her missing brother and unraveling the secrets of her own past.

Related: Control: Every Costume & How To Get Them

Closer to the Control ending, the objective is clear, but the players are mysterious. Jesse is fighting The Hiss, but the enigmatic Board who instruct her don't seem particularly better. Her brother, Dylan, believes The Hiss are less dangerous than The Board, but he's been corrupted by The Hiss to the point where he's hardly a reliable and objective leader. Near the end of the game, the connection between Jesse, Polaris, The Hiss, and Hedron is established, but not quite explained.

When they were kids, Jesse and Dylan were involved in an Altered World Event involving Polaris and The Hiss. Jesse, Dylan, and some local kids activated an Object of Power, a slide projector, and unwittingly created a Threshold event, creating a bridge between their town and another dimension, ultimately resulting in the disappearance of the town's entire adult population. They are presumed dead. Polaris, a seemingly benevolent entity came through during the AWE and bonded with Jesse. Dylan was captured by responding agents of Control, while Jesse escaped and lived on the run and off the grid, harboring Polaris inside of her. She stayed in relative hiding, slowly moving east towards New York, drawn to The Oldest House, where the adventure begins.

Near the Control ending, Jesse discovers that Polaris is being kept in The Oldest House, under the name Hedron. Polaris has been protecting Jesse from The Hiss, and the Bureau has channeled Hedron's energy to craft the HRA devices that protect the surviving Control agents. However, in her attempt to reach Hedron, Jesse unwittingly allows it to be attacked by The Hiss. After Hedron is unfortunately destroyed, Jesse is corrupted by The Hiss and Control ends. Or at least, the credits start to roll.

These aren't regular credits, however. There are odd messages hidden within the text that suggest not all is as it seems. Eventually, the white words on the black canvas start to bleed into the background, until the entire screen is white. Jesse, then, awakens in an obvious dream sequence, perhaps a representation of Hiss corruption. She's an office assistant in the Bureau, and Dylan is the new Director. This exact situation was described by Dylan earlier in the game as a dream he had. Eventually, after some psychedelic experiences with Dylan and deceased director Zachariah Trench, Jesse is able to conquer the dream and assert her authority as the Bureau's true Director.

Now awakened from the dream, Jesse is instructed by Dr. Darling to go to his office, where she makes one final trip to The Oceanview Motel, a recurring location throughout Control. Here, she finds Polaris. As far as she understands, Polaris wasn't destroyed when Hedron was taken by The Hiss. Perhaps Polaris was inside Jesse all along, but was given extra power to assert itself through Hedron. Maybe Polaris is the final vestige of anti-Hiss energy. Jesse confesses she doesn't know, and may never know, but she's nonetheless happy to be reunited with her otherworldly ally.

Jesse and Hedron make one last push against Dylan and The Hiss, and shut down the Slide Projector, the source of all the misery currently plaguing The Oldest House, and also ground zero for the AWE that separated Dylan and Jesse in the first place. Though the fight itself is maybe a bit anticlimactic, the end result is that the Slide Projector is shut down and Dylan is defeated.

Unlike every Remedy game to this point, Control allows players to freely explore The Oldest House in a post-game epilogue. Jesse is now comfortably The Director, and is tasked with overseeing the final clean-up and eradication of The Hiss from the Bureau. There are many side-quests in Control, from Ahti's maintenance tasks to cleansing rogue Altered Items, to taking on the Mold that has been growing underneath Central Research. Once the main story is over, Jesse is free to chase down any leads she may have missed or skipped during the initial journey.

The new status quo at the end of the game is that no new Hiss are appearing in the House, but the ones that have already passed through remain a threat, so the Bureau is still on lockdown. Dylan Faden is in a coma, and he may never wake up. Then again, he it's possible he may awaken at any moment. He's a wildcard, since it's unknown how much of "Dylan Faden" is still in there.

All told, the Control ending is relatively straightforward compared to the likes of Alan Wake and Quantum Break, but it's still rife with mysteries that simply can't be explained. Like Remedy's best titles, it blends video games and live action, to the point of even breaking the fourth wall to bring the player themselves into the story. This arguably extends to the common Metroidvania conceit of allowing players to continue exploring, even after the main questline has been completed.

Finally, the story is not over yet. Later in 2019 and 2020, two expansions will be released for Control. These two new chapters may or may not shed more light on the events of the game, clear up some of the lore's many mysteries, or otherwise offer greater context to the world of Control. Then again, they might make things even more complicated, adding three questions for each answer they provide. A third option would be that the DLC might be full standalone stories that add new layers to the story without directly addressing any of its existing enigmas.

After that, who knows what the future holds for the critically-acclaimed game? Surely there are enough unanswered questions for a Control sequel to be a sure bet at this point, though a gambler would be more likely to bet a true Alan Wake sequel would be a priority for Remedy, especially since the company just regained the rights to the Alan Wake IP. Considering the distinct connections between Control and Alan Wake, a sequel to one will invariably involve the other.

Control is a game with two distinct stories being told: the straightforward narrative of Jesse becoming Director and taking The Oldest House back from The Hiss, and the story of the Bureau itself, told through lore pickups, audio files, and other forms of environmental storytelling. Both stories fuel one another, but while the greater stories of The Oldest House and the wider implications of the Federal Bureau of Control are nothing without the personal quest of Jesse and her journey of self-discovery.

More: How Control Actually Exists In Alan Wake’s Universe

source https://screenrant.com/control-game-ending-sequel-story-explained/

#screenrant

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youreghanamissme · 7 years

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Ch-Ch-Changes

9/1/2017

I've been back a few weeks, and life is not what I expected. I've never been more of a recluse. It's normal to need a few days to readjust to village life after a long period of travel, but since I've returned, I seldom leave my room unless it's to go to my latrine, go on a walk-jog, or buy chop. I'm lonely and alienated and melancholic at site, but more on that later. September is upon us (cue Earth, Wind & Fire), and so much has changed in my life that I'm a little stunned.

I came back to site to hear that the Orange Flesh Sweet Potato (OFSP) vines distribution went well! The vines are now in the ground, despite a few hiccups. Third time's the charm because RING didn't pull another fast one on me. We actually got the vines to my community this year, and my women will have Vitamin A -rich potatoes for consumption and for market in a few months! I've been trying to visit the farms where they're planted to check up on them, but it's been tricky to locate my counterpart. His phone is spoiled, and it's harvest time. Everyone is pretty much at the farm all day, every day, and it looks like dropping in at his compound and asking his sisters to let him know I'd like to meet up with him when he's free is not the best way to go about it.

Harvest time means the village is mostly deserted for the bulk of the day, but it also means the rains are still upon us! I returned to a room full of mold (it's the moisture and the heat and the fact that things have just been sitting there untouched), but that's the silver lining to being gone for so long. It's vexing to have to clean up, but on the bright side: YOU HAVE TO CLEAN UP! And make it a deep clean. So I thanked past-Diana for buying vinegar (I originally bought it for pickling, but it's multi-functional!) and antiseptic and got to work.

The rains brought with it a lusher, green landscape, as if transformed over night. It makes bike rides very dreamy and pastoral. The herds of cows are now allowed to graze freely which means wagashi (deep-fried farmer cheese) in the evenings! Unfortunately, this time of the year also means more mosquitoes, ants, flies, and rotting remains of smashed frogs on the dirt roads.

Other developments? I've picked up the ukulele again. Sort of. I brought it back with me from America. I didn't pack it when I left for Ghana the first time because I didn't think I'd actually practice. I read on reddit that if you didn't really practice it in America, bringing an instrument to Ghana (or any country as a PCV) was a waste of luggage space.

Well, the PCV who posted that is not me, and I should have pulled a Roxette and listened to my heart because I want to practice. Being in Ghana may be the motivation and time and space I need. I bought my uke when I was in third year of university. I had just gotten out of a relationship and thought I was going to channel all that sad energy into happy music. PFFT! How naïve. I've never played anything but the recorder, and I didn't even play that well. I remember quite vividly how my third grade teacher Mr. Moots asked me to stop during class practice one day because I was screechier than the rest of the lot. I wasn't just throwing us off key, I took the wheel and gave it to Thelma (or was it Louise?). “Practice at home, please, and then join us next time.” Oh, yeah?! Well Hot-motherfucking-Crossed-Buns to you too, Moots! I ended up pretending to play the recorder during class practice for the rest of the year. That's actually kind of sad in retrospect.

You hear stories of Tiger Moms putting their kids through piano lessons and violin practice. Um... yeah. Have you met mine? I was part of the Going Home Club and president of the Clean Plate Club. I don't know the difference between a G, C, E, or A note, so when I got a ukulele and a tuner I was at a loss. Didn't know what the hell I was doing, and I've been fumbling with it every since. Doesn't help that I've lived in flats half my life and was (am) embarrassed to be practicing badly for all my neighbors and flatmates to hear. But when I got home to America I figure that Woody (my uke, so named by a former flatmate. He's not even made of real wood, I gather. I think I peeled off a Made in China sticker a few years back too) could continue to sit in storage unused OR he can be picked up and prodded at a few times by myself in Ghana. Maybe I'll even earnestly practice... which is, actually, the goal.

My left fingertips aren't the only thing I'm trying to train. I also signed up for a 10K. I know—DEMENTED, right? I hate running, but I felt inspired after hanging out with my friend Sheena in America. She talked about how she had ran the Lake Merritt (Oakland) 10K recently. She didn't really train for it, but she just felt like doing it. And that made me think of the Accra International Marathon. I'm no marathoner, but there are smaller running events like the 5K, relay, half-marathon, etc. within it. I had been playing with the idea of signing up for the 10K since I first heard about it. I've done a few 5K's, and I knew that wasn't challenging enough. Relays require groups of people, and for myself, running is a very solitary thing. The universe and I know that I will shrivel into a desiccated vegetable husk if I attempt a half-marathon with my “I Hate Running” body, so the best choice would be a 10K.

I initially decided against the idea because it's in Accra. Never mind that I loathe Accra, it's so far from home. Besides, I want to be a Nutrition IST trainer. Last year, the IST was right before the marathon, and I had no idea 1) when the In-Service Training was being held this year, and 2) whether or not I was actually approved to be a trainer (I've gotten a symbolic wink almost a year ago, but that could also be interpreted as a twitchy eye in the world of Peace Corps administrative decisions). I casted the idea aside, but it remained, floating in and out of consciousness in the corners of my mind.

How cool would it be to take part in such an event in Ghana, while you are serving as a PCV? Just to do it for yourself, y'know? Not for the facebook likes or whatever that screams “Hey, Look! Me! How cool, yes?”, but because you were there and it happened and you participated. My conversation with Sheena immediately returned the 10K to my mental front-burner. I knew immediately that I'd regret it if I didn't sign up and at least try. So I gave them my $40 (Dollars, dude, but it's all for a good cause. The marathon benefits a charitable organization in Ghana), and now I'll have to figure out how I'm going to jog/walk-jog a 10K. I've been trying to practice, but most of the struggle is getting out the door and committing to the idea of running.

I've made some progress, but it's slow going. Lately it's been a “one foot in front of the other” kind of deal and a “think about how great it feels when you're done!You did good, kid!” kind of motivation. Once, my ipod battery died, so I made the choice to listen to a podcast while jogging. Do you need a pair of ice skates? Because hell may have frozen over. If you told me that I could more than less jog while listening to Levar Burton reading me a short story presented by Audible where the stories transport you to another dimension, even while sitting in traffic (TM), I would have laughed so hard that my tea would have sprayed through my nose. But it happened. I'm hoping that side of me sticks around until October 28th, the day of the marathon. Or, y'know, as they say in Ghana: pray for me.

There's been a lot of changes, but the biggest and most difficult modifier in my life? One of my best friends in service returned to America prematurely. I know it's all for the best, but I've been emotionally eating and binge-watching television shows off my hard drive so that I don't think about it and erupt in tears (again). Unlucky for me, I finished most of my America reserves before it happened. The granola, jerky, chocolate, chips, and cookies have long been devoured. The only things I have left are prunes and Parmesan cheese packets (the ones you get at the pizza parlor... who knew you can buy it in bulk off Amazon?), so I've made do... a very, very gassy do. Friends leaving is something they don't really talk about during Pre-Service Training. Hell, it happens every few months as one group leaves and a new one comes in. I've said goodbye to so many people, and I will continue to do so as some of my favorite Agric PCV's are the next folks to go (and then it's my intake group!). But it's different because she and I were in the same cohort. We've been part of a close group of friends since the beginning, and we've carried it on as Northerners and market buddies and support systems... that to think that she will not be here to finish service together breaks my heart. It still feels slightly surreal... like, I’m going to see her next week. But I won’t. It's selfish, I know. It's not like she's dead, yet I feel like I'm in mourning. I'm sad, mad, and need another mug of wine and spoonful of Parm. But that's the beauty of Peace Corps. It's not goodbye. There's still America.

I truly believe some of the people you meet in service are destined to be lifelong friends. Pre-PC friends aren't going to completely understand what it was like; all the shit—figurative and literal—you go through in service. But your PC people will. And you won't have to spend an hour explaining context. They'll just get it. Peace Corps is like one big national club you join. Membership is for life, even if you didn't finish or you served more than once. And then when you find yourself in New York or Chicago or Bum-Fuck-Somewhere, you have an old friend to meet up with. And it's also the best excuse to recruit your friends for a cross-country reunion road trip.

It may already be September, but this year is my year of intentional change. It's utterly saccharine and cliché, but life is really how you react to everything that happens to you and around you. I've been working on internalizing the sentiment that life is not a race; that you don't need to have acronyms that follow your last name or go to grad school to be successful or happy. It's a disconcerting thought because we've been conditioned by American society that you should have some semblance of your whole life figured out and a 401K started by thirty, or something to that effect. It's hard not to be a sheep, but conformity is what made Baby Boomers a repressed generation.

Next month I'll be closer to thirty than I am to twenty, and I will be none the more inclined to return to school and start a career with roots and a network that will one day lead to tenure or attending Sheila's divorce party or something. I'm still trying to figure out what path to take next and have been wavering between the idea of studying for the GRE or moving to Baltimore (or somewhere with snow) when I get back; of WOOF-ing across all of South or Central America or doing Peace Corps Response (or some other international aid job... USAID, holla at yo grrl?); of signing up for community college courses for nursing or hiking the Appalachian Trail... I don't know what I want to do, and that's OK in this moment, tomorrow night, and maybe next month too.

I've not been back a full month, and so much has already changed. Some of it great, some of it not so much... but all of it challenging in the best sense. I can eat another fistful of prunes (not many left at this point), and I will. But I won't do that forever. I'm going to leave my room. I'm going to work on those unfinished borehole grants. I'm going to go on a jog (ugh). I'm going to meet up with friends. I'm going to do more School Health Education Program (SHEP) lessons when school recommences. I'm going to master Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star on my uke. I'm going to be kinder to myself and to others... because change and challenges happen all the time. We just have to rise above it and try to be OK because It'll all be OK in the end. If it's not OK, it's not the end. That's apparently John Lennon. Now enough waxing on quasi-philosophic lofty thoughts. Forget about the pressure; life is short. Let’s Dance to some Bowie and Queen (okay, no more bowie refs, RIP)

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#pcghana #howiseepc #ghana #peacecorps #ofsp #bowie #changes #10k #ukulele #existentialcrisis #friendship #rpcv

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