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sentinelpri · 3 years

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How do you think Megatron would react when he finally admits to himself he has feelings for an organic?

Man, I love writing Megatron in love. Headcanons/scenario below the cut, thanks for the request; enjoy!

I feel like Megatron would try to ignore it at first, just like he would with feelings for another Cybertronian, but much, much worse.

Organic aside, relationships aren’t really something he believes are meant for him. He’s a Decepticon leader, he can’t show weakness, and if he dares to get close to someone, there’s a good chance that they could be used against him. So generally speaking, he keeps his distance.

But then you come along.

You have a bad interaction with the Autobots; one of them accidentally wrecks your house in a battle and offers you no compensation or even another place to say, only apologizing before running off, so you do some research on Cybertronians, find out about the Decepticons, and somehow do enough digging to find their base.

Megatron is shocked when you show up one day and pledge your allegiance to him and to the Decepticon cause, but when you explain your reasoning, he can tell that you’re genuine; Autobots are martyr-complex-having, inconsiderate fools who do what they can to look good and act like they’re doing ‘right’, their council is a bunch of stuck up pricks who don’t allow anyone to be an individual or have freedom, and they all act like they’re a working part of a system instead of their own mech/femme with an actual personality. Megatron is kinda like... yeah, okay, whatever. He almost tries to blow you off, but Shockwave and Soundwave argue that you could reveal some weaknesses that the humans have and that you’re an unthreatening enough figure that you could be used as a productive spy. So, he keeps you around and gives you a place to stay on base.

At first, he acts indifferent towards you; you’re a gross, human fleshbag that he wants nothing to do with outside of work, but he sees that you and Soundwave get along since you share a lot of the same ideals about humans needing to do their own work instead of relying on robots to do it for them, and you and Shockwave are actually quite friendly. Hell, you and Lugnut and Blitzwing even make a great trio. So, indirectly, without even realizing it at first, Megatron becomes fond of you through observing your conversations with the others. You’re respectable, brave, bold, honest, and you’re fully self-aware. He finds that, unlike the other humans, he doesn’t mind you; you don’t see him or his cause as evil and actually treat him with respect, and you don’t run or cower or act shy around him either- that shit gets on his nerves.

He knows it’s a bad idea, but he starts talking to you personally. In his berth room, you two exchange intel you’ve collected, and afterwards, you always hang around for an hour or so for in-depth discussions, about your lives and dreams and hopes and philosophies. He frequently finds himself sharing ancient data tablets containing Decepticon works of literature on them with you, and eventually, the two of you have/develop a lot in common.

Not all humans are gross like he thought they were initially, he realizes... In fact, though he’d never say so out loud, you smell nice and the few fleeting touches he’s had with you are always pleasant because of how warm and soft you are.

The first time he thinks about the rapid pace of the relationship the two of you have cultivated and about his feelings for you is after you’re injured. Your cover as a spy gets blown and surprisingly enough, you mention to escape Optimus Prime and the other four members of his team, but you come back sustaining some rough cuts/gashes from when Prowl chucked his shuriken at your clothes to try to pin you to the wall with them; they’re all along your arms, legs, and a few even managed to graze your sides.

You return to the base bloodied and beaten from their attempts to detain you, and though Soundwave and Shockwave (who are easily your best friends at that point) insist that they’re fully capable of handling your medical care, Megatron realizes that he wants to do it himself- doesn’t know why he wants to do it, just knows that he does and that no one is going to stop him. So, he takes you to the med bay and uses the small amount of human medical equipment they obtained for you to disinfect your wounds as you walk him through the process verbally, stitches the ones that need stitching, and wraps/bandages them. It involves you being half-clothed, and though he certainly isn’t going to ogle you like a pervert, he can’t help how his intake hitches at being so close to you when you’re so exposed and vulnerable. It just feels very intimate, and it’s something he’s not used to; no one has dared touch him in thousands of years outside of battle, nor has he touched another outside of such context.

You have to stay in the med bay overnight so that your vitals can be monitored and you can have your dressings changed and antibiotics given to you to prevent your wounds from getting infected. Megatron is also sure to give you painkillers if you need them and keep you well-fed/hydrated so you can heal properly.

He stays by your side while you sleep even though he doesn’t need to, watching you. He can’t help but think about how fascinating it is that your body is so fragile, so prone to bloody injuries when even slightly harmed, but you’re so strong and determined and courageous; completely dedicating yourself to his work, his cause, him when you didn’t have to. Part of that was out of your spite and dislike for the Autobots, but he admired that, too. You uprooted your entire life to come help him and the Decepticons, and even though he didn’t dare say something so kind out loud, he couldn’t help but appreciate you. Him taking care of you was just paying it forward.

You sleep peacefully, chest rising and falling with every breath you take and (s/c) cheeks dusted red. Occasionally, you’ll toss and turn, but at one point, you reach out for his servo in your sleep, so he takes your hand and holds it tight. If anyone ever saw him so tender and weak, he’d be done for, but you were asleep, so he figured it was fine- no one needed to know how much he loved you, not even you.

Oh.

Oh no. He loved you. As fate would have it, it all crashed down on him at once as he sat there, holding your hand. He had gone from assuming you were some disgusting human bag of flesh he wanted nothing to do with, to begrudgingly accepting you to help his cause, to respecting you, to befriending you, to... Falling in love with you. What terrible luck... Maybe it was his punishment for terrorizing organics for so many years, that he just so happened to fall in love with one.

The second he realizes it, he can’t deny it. You recover from your injuries well with Megatron by your side assisting you, but the more time he spends around you, the worse his feelings get, and he’s old enough that he’s not the kind of fool who pushes his feelings away. Instead, he wallows in them, bathes in them, drowns in them, and he drowns in you. It’s really horrible that he, a being so large and powerful and responsible for mass destruction, is so enamored with you, a being so small and delicate and honest. You’re an unfortunate soul, and if you love him back, it’s even worse.

It comes out naturally one of the nights that you’re locked up in his room together discussing some Decepticon poetry you read recently. It was one of his favorite works, and you seemed like you’d enjoyed it, too. Silence falls between you for a moment before he says, “I love you, (y/n). I never thought I’d stoop as low as to fall for an organic, but you’re the only one worth falling for, and Primus, have I fallen.”. The atmosphere doesn’t go tense or awkward, and you only smile up at him, putting the data tablet with the poem on it down on his night table before turning to him.

“And I thought I’d never fall for the leader of an alien robot rebellion, but here I am, and you’re worth falling for, too.”

It’s peaceful, nothing heated or tense but tender and relaxing as he pulls you into his arms and holds you close to him... Maybe being in love with an organic wasn’t so bad, after all.

#tfa #transformers #transformers animated #megatron #tfa megatron #megatron x reader #tfa megatron x reader #ask #asks #my asks #request #requests

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themadauthorshatter · 3 years

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I'M BACK!

So, like I said in my break announcement, I got some ideas for Toppat!Henry, but that unfortunately happened AFTER I posted Part 4.

I was thinking of ideas like this:

Everything remains the same after the chase with RHM, rather than getting captured, Charles pulls a Bold Action Man and jumps off the building. Or so we think, because we'd switch to Henry watching 'Charles fall' and shoot to his feet and shout, "NO! CATCH HIM!"

Funny thing about Bold Action Men: they're plans work. They horribly mangle themselves, but their plans work.

Charles actually landed on a window cleaning lift, which kind of broke when he landed on it. His phone, however, wasn't so lucky.

The lift breaks and Charles catches himself before he falls for real, swinging and climbing into an open window so he can then roll to the floor.

The supplies, including a heavy coat, all fall to and hit the ground; the phone's absolutely fucked, by the way.

Right rockets down to see if Charles actually died, and Charles sees him fly down.

When Right's gone, Charles groans and sits up, opening his jacket to see that he caught himself a little too well, evidenced by a gash that's opened on his ribs, right on the side that was already injured, too.

He groans and stands up, stumbling to the wall.

With Right, we see him hiver over the ground and report back to Henry that Charles did not fall at all. It was just a bunch of supplies and a spare coat. Henry, on the orbital station, sighs and falls back into his chair, silent for a second before he orders them to look inside the building they're on, in case Charles slipped inside to escape.

With Charles, TV perspective, we'd follow a blood trail to see him stumble through an office space, panting and light headed; he's walked down a couple flights of stairs and reached the office to try and look for an elevator, and that gash he has is doing nothing to help.

A wave of exhaustion washes over him and Charles catches himself on a desk, dry heaving as a whistle catches his attention.

"Don't look so good there, pilot. Heh, guess what they say is true: a Nine'-to-Five' does get you killed."

Charles demands the owner of the voice reveal himself, and he obliges.

Hope you remembered him from the "epilogue" in the secong Henry Stickmin Headcanon post, because, ladies and gentlemen, you know him, you either love him or you hate him, please welcome with open arms the worst leader in Toppat history: Terrence Suave

Before they can make proper introductions, Terrence grabs Charles and pulls him behind a wall, into that rec-room in the office space for coffee and food, and puts a hand over his mouth as he shushes him.

Right flies around each floor to survey and find Charles. He does try to get in the window, but the group has to leave and report back to Henry while the beam is hot and ready.

Right flies off and, once he's sure they're gone, Terrence lets go of Charles, who immediately backs away from him, which makes his wounds worse.

Charles doesn't exactly recognize his face, but asks why he's there, all things considered.

Terrence only laughs and admits he likes THIS version of Charles, bold, brave, confident even with a wound, and not an absolutely mindless psychopath working for or with the Toppat Clan- "Well, not as long as Right or Henry get a hold of you."

Upon seeing Charles's confusion, Terrence backtracks and says he'll explain later as he helps Charles to an elevator, grabbing a stapler on the way.

"What... What's that for?"

"Well, I can't really have the fireworks expire before the show begins, now can I?"

Charles shakes his head. "I don't know what you're saying."

"Don't worry about it. Let's just get you back to your government friends."

They enter the elevator and leave, Terrence admitting that he hopes Charles is in that numb state of shock as he knocks him down, lifts his shirt to reveal the gash and then pulls out the stapler. "Try not to move to much, pilot. This might sting a little."

At the base, the twins are getting a HUGE scolding and shout-at by Galeforce, who's very angry that they didn't tell him or anyone else about what Charles was doing, or the fact that Henry had called him.

They're still sorry, but, when asked, admit they don't know where Charles went, only that he was in a hurry and wanted to go alone. Again, Henry had called him, so maybe he had something to do with Charles running off.

Galeforce rubs his temples as Canterbury admits that Charles has been breaking his rank a lot recently, even blindly and stupidly wondering if he's a Toppat spy.

The twins, Galeforce, and Rupert all gkare at him for this, and he holds up his hands and admits he got the idea from remembering how slippery Henry is.

Rupert politely disagrees, as the government is all Charles has. Sure he's broken rank very often, but that's out of impulse and drive to stop Henry without anyone getting hurt. And before you say Charles is being a martyr, his sole goal is arresting Henry and making him call a total surrender for the Toppats. He can't take the clan all at once, and he won't because the government is on his side. He doesn't really care about taking out the clan as a whole, but he does want to stop Henry; and he's focused on Henry the most because of the failed airship mission and the still raw wound Henry left behind. Yeah, he took that very personally.

Regardless, just as Rupert offers to go and look for his friend, the phone rings and Galeforce answers.

"Ch... General? Are y-you there?"

"Charlie!? Where are you right now!?"

In the phone booth, leaning against the wall and paler than Snow White, Charles fights a gag. "Mid... Midtown. I-I got chased. They tried... They to kidnap me. Or-or kill me. I don... don't know, but-..."

Charles groans and slumps down, the pain fading, adrenaline wearing off, and exhaustion catching up to him.

Terrence catches him and sets him down, sitting him down as he takes control of that phone call.

"General Galeforce, I believe I've found your pet pilot for you. Thank goodness, too, he's injured. Bad."

"WHAT!?"

He shrugs and waves a hand. "Don't worry, a couple staples solved that." He turns to Charles. "Right, Charlie?"

"Screw you," Charles spits.

"Don't tempt me."

"Where is he?" Galeforce demands. "Wherever he is, bring him back!"

"Relax, Hubert. He's fine. Just needs a doctor andsone rest, that's all."

Galeforce, tired and just wanting to see his boy, tells Terrence to meet at the base, and to get there as soon as he can.

Terrence agrees and hangs up before helping Charles up and getting him in the car Terrence is "borrowing from a friend😈" and setting out.

On the orbital station, Henry paces as Right and Reginald explain what happened, admitting that they didn't see Charles fall all the way down. Just a little bit. If they didn't know better, they'd say he vanished into thin air.

Right also informs him that he saw Charles's phone fall, but there was nothing there when he went looking for Charles. Reg even explains that on the way up to the roof, the door jammed for a second, having been barred by an old screwdriver.

Apparently whoever was there just wanted to distract them for just a few seconds.

Henry notices this and growls, slamming his fist against the table.

Back with Terrence and Charles, the half cybernetic man is tapping Charles every now and again to keep him awake, in case he checks out for good.

Charles is sick and tired, but also extremely confused as to what just happened.

"I don't... Who are you?"

"Terrence Suave. Nice to meet you, Charles Calvin."

"How d'you... how do you know-... Are you-"

"Before you call me a stalker, just think of it like this: Are you religious, Charlie?"

Charles cringes at Terrence calling him a nickname only Galeforce uses or is allowed to use, but still shakes his head. "That's none your business."

"Fine. Believe in spirits? The afterlife? After some folks die, their souls are free to do whatever they please only catch is they can't DO anything because they're, you know, dead."

Charles only stares at him incredulously.

"I'm basically a spirit, kid. I see just about everything. I see things and I know them."

Charles shakes his head and asks, "How'd you know I... I'd be in the city?"

"I guessed. Good thing I was right."

"W-... Who-"

Terrence waves off the questions and tells Charles to stay awake as long as he can, so they can get him help.

They get to the base just as Charles passes out, Galeforce, the twins, and Rupert all rushing over to catch him.

Terrence tells them not to worry because he just passed out, even admitting he really shouldn't have used staples to close the gash.

Galeforce berates him and demands to know who this crazy bastard is and what he's doing, and Terrence reveals the bits of Charles's phone. "Give the kid a fossil. It'll be harder to track and tap."

They get him to the infirmary, Charles murmuring about keeping the twins safe and that they're after him, they being the Toppats, and he needs to leave town.

Galeforce hushes him up for this and tells gets him to the infirmary.

As Charles is carried away, Terrence watches, amused and perky as he smiles.

Slight gore tw, he then sighs, takes out his glass eye, cleans it off, and then puts it back in, groaning about how finicky it is.

Once it's back in, Terrence sighs and relishes in the fact that he's probably giving Henry a couple migraines

Again, this is just a possible revision, and if you guys like it, I can continue Part 5 off of this

Sorry for being away, I'll try to be more consistent now

Either way, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!!!!

#henry stickmin #charles calvin #completing the mission au #completing the mission #toppat!henry #slight gore tw #blood tw #terrence suave

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fuckingthefictional · 5 years

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Nice to meet you, Soulmate.

Derek Hale x reader.

Request: no

Warning: n/a

I had always wondered what it was like to meet your mate. Would it be like Scott and Allison when it was love at first sight. Instantaneous and full of a love that was so bold and strong and caused them both to act on impulse.

I often think about the little things. Like what they look like when they smile, or if they had little habits that they picked up during childhood.

But then the ‘what ifs’ kick in. What if I never find my made? What if they’ve already met the one for them? What if they don’t want to find me? What if I don’t even have one.

The last one would be false I suppose, I can hear the thoughts of my mate. They’re usually grumpy and frustrated, but that doesn’t matter to me. It’s my mate. Or at least that’s what I hope it is.

Let me tell you something, it’s one thing to have not found your mate. But it’s another when you’re not even in a pack and you had no friends. An Omega that’s all I am. A lone wolf. And if you didn’t know Omegas aren’t supposed to last long without a pack.

The past year or so had been full of more supernatural bullshit than Beacon Hills had seen in a long time. I was there protecting my fellow wolves from danger and harm- even if they didn’t know who their supposed ‘hero’ was. But regardless of that, here I am packing books away into my locker and try to keep a low profile.

If there was one thing I knew I was good at, it was being a wallflower. I noticed everything about everyone and yet always managed to stay out of the limelight. It was great. Lonely. But great.

The locker next to me slammed shut, making my body jump and my heartbeat spike up. The locker’s owner sent a confused and apologetic look my way, before walking off.

English. I used to love it- but now with the argent takeover in school. I hate it. Victoria Argent was a sneaky, stuckup piece of work. Who honestly made me anxious.

Although she’s sly, she’s clever and she knows it. The likelyhood of her finding out about my ‘condition’ was high. Especially with the full moon being around the corner.

It wasn’t like I hadn’t shifted before. I was born a werewolf- but being the runt I was abandoned. You had the shift locked down, even to the point of being able to shift into a full form (tail and all)

The problem with the full moon was my mate - or lack thereof. My instincts were constantly telling me that I needed to find my mate. Then everything would make sense. It’s as if my body was a magnet and it was being lead on a wild chase to find the other half.

“Miss Y/L/N!”

Shit. I was daydreaming again and not paying attention and the snake had caught you.

I raised my head up, putting myself fully in her gaze.

Act normal

“Yes Mrs Argent?” I replied sweetly, a sugar coated smile played on both of our lips.

“The answer Miss Y/L/N.”

Fuck

I racked my brain for any type of possible answer.

‘It’s about Lord of the Flies- what do each of the characters represent.’

The gruff voice was present again, but you could tell it was full of sympathy and genuineness.

‘Thank you

“The characters are split into 3 main areas: good, bad and middle ground. “ I racked my brain for the answer, “Ralph represents democracy and civilisation of society and the general utopia that Golding wants society to be. Piggy is the intellectual one, he’s out of the circle of stereotypes that a British boy should be, his worth isn’t noticed until the end of the book. Simon is the martyr and the only inherently good person- hence why he has religious imagery.” I sighed deeply, “Jack is the savagery that Golding knows is present in every person, Golding believed evil and impulsiveness is present in all our lives.”

An awkward silence fell over the room, I doubted anyone had ever heard me say that much in a single sentence.

‘You’re clever...I like that’

My cheeks burnt up in a rosy hue.

‘You’re being chatty today.’ I teased the person at the other end of the connection.

‘I can always go if that’s what you want.’

‘NO. Not what I meant!’

A deep chuckle resonated from the guy. Damn that was hot.

‘Thanks.’

My body froze up and I felt my hand smack itself on my forehead.

I can’t believe I said that.

I had a love hate relationship with coach, on one hand we had a no annoyance policy he stays out of my way I stay out of his and I get my work done. On the other hand, he was just plain erratic- you had sometimes questioned the possibility of a possession but eventually you had to cut it out. He was just batshit crazy.

“Y/L/N! Get your ass over here now!”

Speak of the devil and he’ll appear

Jogging over I braved myself for the conversation to come.

“Yes Coach?”

“You get free choice of the trail you want to run today. So pick one, get back to me and then set off.”

I wondered for a few seconds, how far I could stretch this. I had double Phys Ed.

“I’ve got my mind set on the beacon hills reserve, if that’s okay coach?”

A deep, gruelling sigh resonated for the teacher. “Ugh fine. I know you’ll come back, but if you don’t I’m sticking you next to Greenberg for the rest of your school career.”

With the permission granted I began my journey, I loved the freedom of running.

Granted it wasn’t in wolf form (and nothing could beat running in wolf form) but I still loved the sensation of the breeze on my skin and the cool air whipping through my hair.

I focused on the pounding of my shoes on the leaf covered ground, I had not a care in the world (which was rare) and I let my senses take me wherever they wanted.

I kept running for about 30 minutes, before stopping at a rather crispy looking wreck of a building. It was spectacular.

It was charred black and half of it was completely burnt down, the windows were gone and the frames only held the ghosts of the people who lived there before. It was a site of grief and a story of loss.

I didn’t know who lived here previously, but I felt myself sympathising with them massively. I knew what loss was like, and what it could do.

I also didn’t know what possessed me to take a deeper look into the wreck of the house, but my body worked on autopilot as it began to charge up the stairs.

“This is private property.”

Shit.

The man stood there was gorgeous, he had a well built body and his muscles pulled taunt through his jacket. His expression look angry and my adrenaline slowly drowned in a pool of pure anxiety.

“Shit indeed.”

My eyebrows rose into my hairline- shock coating my entire being, I swallowed “you’re him.” I pointed pathetically as he took a large step forward.

“The names Derek. Derek Hale. Nice to meet you soulmate.”

#teen wolf #teenwolf #derek hale x reader #derekhale #derek hale #derek hale x you #derek hale x y/n

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the-house-of-the-nine · 5 years

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In Depths Below, Masquerade, Part 10

[Part 10, The Conclusion!, There has been blood and there will be death. ]

If you’re enjoying this, please!!! like and share!!! to your friends!!!! Help us to reach new faces,readers & writers!

[Can’t stress that enough! :P]

[We’ve been so blessed to have help from this fantastic community here, every single one of you have helped us in so many ways! And feel free to send anonymous ASKS if you are curious about writing with us! We absolutely welcome new faces! Without further delay….]

“No!” she snapped, peering toward the collective group. “Do NOT stop until I get what I am here for. . .”

She turned and suddenly; without warning, her hands coiled under his bloodied collar and she jerked him upward to look at him. Her eyes began to swirl in a purple haze.

“What are you talking about? How do you know me? Answer!” she said again, though much more loud and by shaking him several times.

“I speak of your history. . .I was. . .” he said being jerked back and forth. “I was the one in charge of your recovery after the fall of the Sunwell. I found you, coiled in the arms of your mother when the Scourge had broken through the gates of our city. You were helplessly clinging to her. . . I snatched you up, she was still alive and begged me to take her. But I knew I could not save you both. . .”

Vari slowly turned; by now she had calmed, but her eyes narrowed at the discovery. Koltun already knew to step between her and the table lest she leap and body slam him through it. The demons clawed hands were holding her back. She was wide eyed, and as in shock as Siida. This man, this. . .pathetic being, he was so closely tied to their history. But how?

“I left her to die. . . used her as bait to lure them. . .to get away and save us both, stealing you away and hoping to better your life. The recovery process was your memory wipe and barricade. We wanted to block the memory of your past; and place you with a wealthy house to help educate and further your success. . . I had no idea you had a living heir. . . “

Dawnseeker struggled to stay upright, but slowly he would be lowered back to the table as Siida’s strength waned.

She was in shock now. Her eyes were fully coated in the void she had tried so hard to keep buried down inside. Her jaw was tight, teeth clenched together while she clung to his collar. The words had entered her mind but she could almost not believe it. It was him, all along. He was the link between them all.

“Siida. . .” Marseille said softly as he tried to connect to her, his hands were still locked holding the spell. “Sennaris, enough. . .”

Both Verzatea and Sennaris had already begin to transfer their energies back to themselves when the spell around them started to drop. As the group felt the veil that was surrounding them lift, Marseille too would be able to drop his hands from channeling. But it was too late.

Before he could step beside her, Siida had already lost her control.

Her eyes burst into a violet flame that had caused her flesh and hair to turn near pale white. She coiled her fingers around the neck of the Magister and had climbed nearly on top of him. The fury that had built up over the years of her life. The abuse and neglect she suffered living in a house that knew she was nothing more than an orphan. The pain of having to live alone. Having to find her brother and sister; this family, only to have it almost ripped away.

She screamed, and a sudden burst of violet fire had sent the group hurdling backward from its recoil. She was seething and dripping with dark magics that seemed to be burning holes in the table and floor the longer she held it. Dawnseeker was all but lost to this, his head rolling backward and his body going limp. Siida was enraged beyond control and belted out another banshee wail, much like her older sister.

The burning void energy began to peel bits of flesh from the Magister as he lay there helpless to defend himself. Verzatea and Marseille were working hand in hand to protect the group, sheltering them with a shield of sorts which was more or less their only defense against this type of anger filled magic.

She continued to scream and shake, her body convulsing while she abused the helpless man with fury.

“You took everything from me!”

“I should have died beside my mother but instead you took her from me! You took my brother, and my safety. . . You took everything!” the pain behind those words caused the eyes of the fel user to come to life. Had he finally met his end?

Siida charged one final time and with as much force as she could muster, ignited her ability to its full potential and instantly vaporized the man. He was burned from head to toe, and so heavily that the second wave had caused his insides to begin to boil.

She wailed harder and harder which she charged up the suppressed anger, and in a third and final pulse, shattered him from the inside out, and left him as a stain of particles and dust, scattered across the table.

She would have probably continue to assault the world in her fury, until a plated hand fell across her shoulder. It dawned instantly on her who would be so bold as to brave the painful burning of her inner flames; and she turned.

Vari was standing there, taking on whatever remained of her anger; her stern eyes and stoic expression suddenly eclipsed her mind and caused that wave of anger to instantly vanish. She had lost. Everything became terrifying in the wake of such a violent onslaught, and she dove into Vari’s chest and collapsed in tears.

The rest of them could hardly remain doing anything else but staring. Watching the two sisters grieve not only on the loss of what they had fought so hard to find; but the procurement of knowledge they’d both hoped to sooner forget. The entire time they’d know one another and neither had a more clear picture of the future than this simple greedy man, who now was a stain of dust.

Verzatea and Sennaris both held their heads high, while Zoei lowered her own gaze. She still felt guilt over what had happened; the reveal of everything that had built up to this very moment causing her to hitch a breath in her chest. She turned suddenly and peered out the large windows leading to the bay. Fireworks still launched high into the air; the guards of Honeywell still insisting nobody return. They had been successful yet again; but not without a cost.

The three powerful women rallied together and without another glance; would hurry to make a hasty exit from the blood drenched party room. There was nothing left for any of them here.

Whistletorque had sauntered back over to his contraption, and without another word; the button on the left side would deactivate the still turning record player which skipped, the turret that spun and the band that moved. It collapsed everything under the stage and folded itself down into a neat and convenient suitcase which was promptly gathered.

The two sisters shared a wordless embrace before quietly turning and making their way from their own stage. Vari quick to gather the talisman of her fallen brother from the pile of ash that lay where Dawnseeker once was. Koltun would follow in suit; the demon sending a clawed fist into the door frame as they passed; cracking it on contact.

Marseille would be the last and was quick to begin staging the scene to look as though there had been a murder. His deft mind and hands working in unison. He would gather whatever evidence he found would be incriminating, and hurried to tidy up any sign they would have been there. But it would be Sunwood who was plucked from the group before he could attempt to exit.

“Where are you going?” he asked softly, his fingers still curled around his collar as he drug him back.

“W-what. . .what do you mean, I am leaving with the rest of you all. . .” the portly man suggested as he peered into the white burning eyes of the pale old elf.

His response to that was a resounding no, but silent, and in the form of his shaking head.

“No. . .I’m. . n-not going with you?” he mumbled as his body turned to face Marseille.

“No.” he said this time. “You are going to remain here and play the part you needed for. The part you were born to play.”

Sunwood suddenly felt his eyes widen, his body running cool and chilled yet a warmth spilled over his flesh and ran down his chest causing him to open his mouth wide to speak, though the words never came out.

Marseille was holding a broken piece of mirrored glass that had been shattered during the onslaught. The old elf was painted crimson across his face and neck; bleeding down onto his chest where the fresh burn mark had scarred him. His hand was bloody and lowering the weapon; it was conveniently vaporized in his palm as a charge of arcane energy swirled around it.

“You will live. You will be the martyr that allows the masses to see the monster that has fled from this place, and must be stopped.”

Marseille slowly lowered the bleeding man from his standing position and placed him on the floor by the slaughtered remains of the other Magisters.

“You will never utter a single word for as long as you live; but your scars will be a reminder to the world that you were but a pawn in a game that was far too high over your head.” the Shaldorei continued by cleaning up the dust piles and using his energy to finish them to the smallest of particles.

“Dawnseeker did this. . . and upon killing them, spared you for bringing him what it was he needed most. And in time; Siida Ray Kash’ebahl will return a hero to Silvermoon City, when she resurfaces from the clutches of the madman behind the Honeywell Masquerade Massacre. You. . . will continue to be our eyes and ears; for that is all you are good for anymore. The agreement. . .stands as is.”

Marseille peered down at the wide eyed Magister. Everything that had happened up until this point; he knew he would not get out of this unscathed. But life was worth living as long as his family was safe. He would have no choice but to play along; he knew what these people were capable of.

“Magister Sunwood. . . it would please me greatly if this incident remained between us. You have been most valuable to my Master despite his apparent demise. Do not. . . forget that I am always watching.”

And with that, the last member of the Order would make his way toward the exit of the bloodied pavilion. His white hot eyes glazing over a softened pink hue as his body began to mellow and calm.

Soon the guests would return to their party and find a not so welcome affair had taken place. Rumors would spread and the masses would gather; knights and the higher authority would be called into action. And a manhunt to locate the rogue apostate mage Dawnseeker would commence. But they would never find him; they would never locate his body. All they would find were the bodies of his victims; the witness and hope that one poor Siida-Ray Kash’ebahl would not meet the same fate as her fellow party goers.

As for The Nine, they would return to their hallowed bastion. Lick their wounds and prepare for the ceremonious burial of their brother, their friend, of their lover and confidant. Now was not the time to waste on sentiment, they would have to gather behind the support of one another and press on, otherwise it would be more than just one life lost in this tragic affair.....

To be completed: “In Depths Below: Epilogue, Part 1″

@siidaraykashebahl

@whatadarkbitch

@zandalaridruidofgonk

@suncrest-legacy

@madame-miersae (just so you dont miss it lol)

@pyravari-kashebahl

@thebladeitself

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your-endless-oblivion · 7 years

Text

For John Laurens

For John Laurens (Oct. 28, 1754- Aug. 27, 1782)- A Birthday Memorial

When you drive around in almost any state, you're bound to see a Jefferson or Washington street (we have at least 10 that I see regularly even in Missouri), maybe even a Madison, Hamilton, or Lafayette street. There are countless books documenting the lives of all of the above.

I've never once seen a "Laurens" street though. I've only found one book about him, and it's very hard to get your hands on. If you mention Jefferson or Washington, or even Hamilton now, almost anyone in the U.S. would know exactly who you mean, but not so when it comes to John Laurens.

So who was John Laurens?

There are the things we know, and the things we can never be sure of.

We know he was a soldier. We know he was brave and rash- we know he was careless with his own life to the point that many suspect he was suicidal to some degree. After he was shot in the ankle, the Marquis de Lafayette said of him, “It was not [Laurens’] fault that he was not killed or wounded; he did every thing that was necessary to procure one or t’other.”

We know he was one of the strongest abolitionists of the time- despite (or perhaps because of) coming from South Carolina, from one of the bigger slave plantations of the time, and being raised in an environment where owning people was normal.

From the beginning though, he knew that what his father and his peers and so many people were doing was morally wrong in every way. Of slavery, he said;

"We have sunk the Africans & their descendants below the Standard of Humanity, & almost render'd them incapable of that Blessing which equal Heaven bestow'd upon us all."

We know Laurens was an aide-de-camp to George Washington. We know he married Martha Manning to protect her reputation. We know that his younger brother died when only 10 years old and that both Laurens and his father blamed John for the incident. We know that Henry Laurens was emotionally manipulative of his son. We know these facts, but we don't know their causes or effects. We don't know if Laurens really was queer, though we have reasonable evidence pointing to it in his relationships with Alexander Hamilton and Francis Kinloch. We don't know if he really was depressed or suicidal, but again, there were many clues that suggest it was possible, even if he didn't understand it himself.

The most important thing that we do know about John Laurens is that he was a courageous soul. He wasn't as desperately tenacious as Alexander Hamilton, as steadily commanding as General Washington, or as political as the eccentric "father of democracy", Thomas Jefferson. Everything about him was behind the scenes. He was rash and bold in battle, but he wasn’t so desperate to leave his own legacy as he was to change things for other people.

Washington wrote after hearing of his death, “In a word, he had not a fault that I ever could discover, unless intrepidity bordering upon rashness could come under that denomination; and to this he was excited by the purest motives.”

Probably part of the reason we don't know as much about him is because that was never his goal. He never strove for glory or legacy; his brand of change was not big-flashing-lights, riotous change. It was personal change. It was fighting for years for only a couple of goals: most noticeably, the freedom of his new country and the liberation of 3,000 black men.

He's a supporting character in the musical Hamilton because he was a supporting character in reality. If Hamilton was a revolutionary, Laurens was a visionary.

John Laurens sacrificed himself to his passionate fight for change. He was one of the first martyrs in America's long-lasting war for freedom- not from Britain, but from inequality, intolerance, and hate. We still fight this war today, and John is one my inspirations as an aspiring social activist.

John died young- only two months shy of turning 28. He had so much passion and potential that was wasted when his life was unnecessarily stamped out. I can't go back in time and save him or even answer some of my questions about him. To quote the new Alice Through The Looking Glass movie; "You can't change the past, you can only learn from it."

I've learned a lot from the examples of the characters depicted in Hamilton. I see both the heroic and the ugly sides- from slave owning to sex scandals- of the founding fathers and have learned from both their successes and their mistakes.

What John Laurens and Alex Hamilton had in common was that they were both doers AND dreamers. They saw a progressive, exciting future and they strove to create that forward, equal, bright world. While they both died relatively young (27 and 47 respectively) and weren't able to see through every dream they had for this country, they made as much of a difference as they could in the time they had. They fought for it; they overcame various obstacles just to see the birth of our nation and to progress it as much as possible. Alexander Hamilton wrote shelves full of words; established the banking system, the New York Post, and in part, the Continental Congress; and so much more. John Laurens fought bravely and with humility and self abandon; and he stood up for the rights of those whose oppression had been normalized.

All we can do to honor the memory of people like Hamilton and Laurens is to follow their examples of persistence, courage, and a hunger for justice.

Alexander has inspired me to write like every word is urgent; to take hold of my passion and strong will and use them as driving forces to make a difference. John has inspired me to live a brave life of activism and to fight until my last breath for the equality of all different peoples.

"He was the messenger from a future that we now inhabit... Today, we are indisputably the heirs to Hamilton's America, and to repudiate his legacy is, in many ways, to repudiate the modern world." -Ron Chernow

Happy birthday, John Laurens, and God bless you. I'm sorry that most of the world has forgotten you, but I swear to keep your memory alive while I can and to follow your example of a quiet leader; strong-willed and assured in his beliefs of right and wrong and equality for all humanity. I pledge to continue the fight you began.

#John Laurens #writing #blog #thoughts #Laurens #birthday #in memoriam #hamilton #history #heroes #my heroes

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roaldseth · 6 years

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necessitas etiam timidos fortes facit

commentary and thoughts related to, but only somewhat on, creating fortitier_et_honorate.gif

Everything is said better in Latin, even if it is something rather trivial, but it’s not always the easiest. The original Latin for that GIF was intended to be “gloria fortis miles,” glory to the brave soldier, a phrase I had fallen in love with after first hearing Resist and Bite (Sabaton), but the phrase would have been more of a shout out than anything else because I’m sure they just pulled that one out on their own. So, I looked for a replacement that went along with the GIF, which had it’s trials and error, running through stating the obvious like “bravery begets glory” to the absurd. Asking friends for help never ceases to entertain me by getting silly phrasing like suggesting to use something that roughly translated to “my good friend Roland the cannibal” and “These are my glasses” that were just ruggedly thrown through Google translate, to later just become suggestions like “ego non comprehendo” and (my personal favorite) “XVIII annus vetus cibum.”

Clearly asking for help had gotten me nowhere besides some good, hearty laughs, but I was trying to make a point: Roland as the unreliable character in terms of his own thoughts and how he viewed himself. Recognizing it was like a self reminder that what I see of myself isn’t always what other people see of me; even though I am myself my understanding of myself can be limited at times.

There were two idioms that I came across in particular, although they were not exactly applicable contextual wise or for the original intention. “Fortune favors the bold” and “Necessity makes even the timid brave” (Sallust): the first one was very beautiful and inspirational, but death as a consequence of bravery and sacrifice is not very fortunate—not in the slightest—even with the counterargument of the slaying of Meganada. Death invokes loss and helplessness.

But, “necessity makes even the timid brave” is very much contextually correct and fitting, but a point I had never thought of before, so reading it was like taking a sledgehammer to a thick pane of glass. It didn’t quite shatter, but it sure did a number on its appearance; cracks going everywhere.

“I’m just a coward.”

No, you’re not. Abandoning one’s duties is excusable when self-preservation is in question. Your post resumed after Greg’s death—you lead the Lokapala in his stead. Out of your own will, you infected yourself with something loathed and out casted, and died a martyr. Soldiers must preserve their lives in inopportune moments to forfeit them in opportune ones. Aren’t sacrifices considered courageous?

Roland infecting himself was a necessity to further initial intentions of abducting Sera. Roland infecting himself was a necessity to get within the Embryon’s good graces. Roland infecting himself was a necessity to fight back—��everyone else here is just a weak human.”—in a situation where warfare had changed. And Roland actions at the Power Plant were necessary for the assurance of a completion for a task. Of course, by then, Roland’s and the Lokapala’s attitudes were the flip side—some conglomeration of courage by resolve and courage by need.

But above all, (he felt that) it was necessary for atonement.

I knew that; the game outright says it. But, I guess I had forgotten. Or maybe I’m just disappointed in myself because I missed something painstakingly obvious.

He wasn’t always courageous or brave either. “Roland’s paranoid beyond just being cautious… You can’t win a war by being defensive.” / “The Lokapala is ‘planning’ an attack on the Karma Society… but they’re all talk!” He was controlled by fear and yet still his atma brand the Lightning Bolt and his avatar Indra. It almost seemed like receiving such accordingly was circumstantial—that if it was received some other way that it would have ended differently. But in my studies, I had been told that true character comes forth from being tested, by undergoing some trial.

Roland of pre-canon is such a grey area in terms of “always” or “never was” for characteristics because it never was the point, and what was needed to make that point was explained enough. So, maybe in the end, it was always meant to be both.

#just me talking

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protaego · 7 years

Text

Blasphemy

pairing: Draco x reader

he shouldn’t be here. Amongst the victims, heros, innocents and martyrs of the battle. he was not good, nor honourable. moral or brave. Merely a vessel to which the Dark Lord had abused for his own form of twisted punishment.

Gone was the prestigious reputation of the Malfoy name. Only the brutal honesty of what had once been masked to appear as superiority remained:

c o w a r d i c e.

Had that not been the reason why Draco had not been able to perform the task the Dark Lord had so cunningly gave to him? Knowing wholly that he would not succeed?

Or rather, was it the reason he became a Death Eater in the first place? Afraid of the power the Dark Lord possessed and craving his own.

But he’s gone. dead, they claim. So what did that leave him with but a cell in Azkaban?

The families of the passed shrowd around the lifeless bodies like a reef. Mirrored expressions of anguish and blinding sorrow etched onto every face.

It was his side that did this. Took countless lives without so much as a batter of an eyelid. By default, it might as well have been his own hand that drained the life from their eyes. Children younger than he was lay motionless beneath debris and blood. It was his fault.

As the realisation struck him, he lost all sense of awareness. All he was conscious of was the suffocating hold that seemed to clamp down on his windpipe and dig its nails deep within his hollow heart. unyeilding and intangible. His life sustained only by the sharp rasps of breath which he was barely able to produce.

Blistering tears streaked down his marred cheeks and seeped through his shirt. It was only when icy air shocked him into breathing, did he realise he was in the courtyard.

A lithe girl stood before him, her scraped fingers forming a vice around his wrist. There was no trace of loathing or disgust across her bold features. Only blunt understanding and fresh sorrow.

Hastily, he wiped at the wetness on his cheeks with the back of his hand. “I don’t believe you’re a bad person.” the girl said softly but resolutely. “the fact that you feel remorse for what has happened just further proves that.” she finished louder this time, seemigly more confident.

“How?” he choked out. “how can you look at me after knowing who I am? what I have done?!” his teeth clenched in spite of himself as a rush of deepset loathing of himself burned through his veins like fiendfyre.

Gently, her hands cupped his face and her fierce eyes kept his gaze. “It’s because of who you are that I can give you a second chance. You felt like you had no choice. No way out. Your family’s lives were being determined by whether you did what Voldemort demanded. It was a display of love for them that you did those things. If that isn’t a reason why you aren’t a bad person then I don’t know what is.” the corners of her mouth tugged upwards as she gave him a watery grin.

Blinking back another wave of tears he let out a shuddering breath. For the first time in years, his heart felt light. The harrowing fear and drilling expectations began to dissipate from his body.

he shouldn’t be here. That much he still felt was true. But as long as she remained spirited, determined and accepting..

maybe he could find,

a reason to

s t a y.

#random idea that came to me whilst i was supposed to be doing revision #hp #draco malfoy x reader #Draco Malfoy #Harry Potter #harry potter imagine #hogwarts #draco #draco x reader #battle of hogwarts #Harry Potter x reader #Draco x reader

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