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shanieveh · 2 days

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REVERSE 03↺: love the player

wriothesley x fem!reader smau

now playing: laufey — above the chinese restaurant

After cramming so many activities, your mind in a daze and body almost collapsed, it was finally time to go to the after party. This is where the game actually starts, and you hated every bit of it.

Back in the days, he wasn't the center of attention, and these loud houses were quiet secrets only shared for two people. Now he took the center stage, where everyone worshipped his every move.

And you watched.

"And our star player tonight!" Childe drags Wriothesley to the stage where everyone could see him, you just clapped no time to cheer loudly. After all, your voice will be hoarse with no more for the presentation tomorrow.

Before, these events always seemed fun for you, but now, now...

You see them six, popular, untouchable group and know that you will never belong to it. Wait there's only five of them... where is...

"Need some fun, girlie?" The red head from earlier came to you and offered you some sweets.

"I'm having fun, don't worry." You politely took his offer with faked grin, you liked sweets anyways.

After him was a series of people, an obstacle od sweaty and immature highschool teens, where was Kaveh? Oh probably with Alhaitham.

Then there was Scaramouche bullying Childe, and there was Cyno with Dehya chilling.

It only leads back to yourself, all alone.

You then entered the room, the very room where everything started. It was filled with the duke's past trophies and awards, a lot of memories unwind.

Back then he was your suitor, a nobody who who was mediocre at best.

A lot has change, huh. He changed, but you stayed at this moment. Unlike him, you stayed with him.

Promises were made, and he was the first to break them. With the chance of being popular and glorified he left you, but that didn't really stop you did it?

He did say you were the love of his life, about a million damn times.

Until that stupid reverse everything was fine, he was supposed to be yours, after all that he did right, now... now you were the one chasing, you were the one who wanted him back, it was as if the world reversed!

"I'm afraid miss that this is personal property, you can only go past the ground floor." A silky velvet voice was heard from behind.

With that you looked at the source, she was beautiful. She was smart, she was, she was... all that he wanted.

"I'm sorry Miss Clorinde, I was just looking for the bathroom." I excused myself and went to outside.

You left hastily without seeing the look on her eyes, for it was not one of anger or indifference.

It was one of pity.

"Now why do you look upset in this beautiful night?" Kaveh chimmed it at the sight of your disheveled form. "I thought your wriobaby won the big game today?"

No reply was ushered, just the wind blowing, and the moon at the height of its glory.

"Cyno was right maybe I don't stand a chance against her. I'm just a nobody." You pout at nothing but your own misery. "And everyone thinks nothing of me beyond of him, she's spmething without him and I'm just no one!"

It was not long till the snoppy Charlotte saw you both, perhaps it was your loud exclaim.

"Want me to make an editorial about her so she will have a bad reputation?" That was her ideal of comfort, and in some degree it would work.

"Or better yet we will spread bad rumors about her at school?" Dehya joined in, wanting to cheer you up.

No. Clorinde does not deserve any of those, even if hatred panged your heart, you knew that she deserves none of it. She was always organized, she always knows what to do. She's just... perfect.

"The poor Clorinde, Lottie!" Kaveh reprimanded the journalist with his drunk boyfriend on one shoulder. How chaotic. "For me you should just get over the guy! It would also help your reputation at school! It's that furry's fault!"

You let out the heaviest of sighs, almost at the verge of just giving it all up. Clorinde's wrath just seemed to strong. But... you can't, you just can't let go, not today, not next week, and not even when everything changes.

You would always stay.

And in the fleet of defeat, you see Kaveh's drunk boyfriend finally holding his composure.

"Name, your phone is ringing." He gives it to you.

Oh.

'ONE MESSAGE NOTIFICATION'

My.

'WRIO BABY: DO YOU WANT TO COME? .... [see more]'

God.

Scrolling past your previous texts, you finally saw it.

———————————[ 02 —↺— 04 ]————————————

the whole campus knows about your 3 year crush on the student body president and basketball captain wriothesley. you were fine with his constant ignoring and rejections until something happened, until you stopped, and a reverse took place... now he won't leave you alone.

TAGLIST I: @vash-yuu @nayukiyukihira @aethion @whodissbitj @astolary @ayayaaayyiire @randomidk-123 @superdark-soul @sleepy-waffle @kittywagun @ceaether @ichorstainedskin @numwoon44 @eutopiastar @reni502 @fictionalfantasy17 @lucienbarkbark @kyon-cherri @huanator @jqnehr @yourlittlemissworld @zworllyx @unknownlololol @sara-midnight @jaguarthecat @we-wo-we-wo @duhsies @interstellar-equilibrium @ariparri @lolmeowing @aruatsu @k-cris @quacking-simp @vlamouren @semi-orangeapple @tamikahoshiko @imnotgoodwithnamessoidk @portgas459ace @r4yyyyy @vxnuslogy @kazuhasmaid @explosive-wuisa @falors @rirk-ke @shotovhs @aixaingela @ruhaxol @yelleloww @sc1twi @ash4ree

author's note: if you noticed from the spotify playlist, all the songs of the day are the tracks in order. this will grant you special privileges to see what the plot will be in the order of the songs! anyways, no update next week because its finals here in the philippines, gotta focus. love you all!!

#wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x female reader #wriothesley x y/n #wriothesley x you #wriothesley #scaramouche smau #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #genshin smau #genshin imagines #reverse smau

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kaidatheghostdragon · 2 days

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Halfas and Fear Gas

Ive seen a lot of "fear gas makes danny high." Its hilarious and i love it. Other variations i recall seeing are: fear is not as potent, complete immunity, 'food supplement' fear gas, and the boring 'effects him like normal.'

BUT.

I haven't really seen anyone treat effect effect on the brain and core as separate processes. In other words, humans get affected one way, ghosts get affected another way, and halfas get blasted by both.

We already know how normal humans are affected, so we dont really need to go over that. Ghosts, however, are free reign. (Unless there's a canon incident where a ghost like boston brand or gentleman ghost are exposed to a fear gas attack? Any DC canon nerds out there that know of something like that?)

The options I've seen or thought up so far:

Complete immunity - ectoplasm just doesn't react to physical matter in a way that impacts the ghost. Fear gas, as in the chemical itself, has no effect whatsoever.

Effects ghosts like humans. Straight forward, it's a bit weird if you think about it, but eh.

Fear gas, as in the chemical itself, is like ghost weed, or perhaps something stronger. Might be hallucinogenic, but in a bad trip sort of way rather than a worst fear sort of way

Fear gas, as in the chemical itself, is accidentally a super effective health suppliment for ghosts

If emotions are food to ghosts, fear gassed humans can span the range between 'delectable snack sprinkled with extra sugar' to 'weird chemical food that isnt healthy but will still sustain you' to 'supercharged health snack completely saturated by nutrients'

Fear gas, either the chemical itself or the people affected by it, has a distinct smell. It could be good, bad, or neutral, possibly related to how it affects the ghost. (Or deceptive, for humor and/or angst.)

Fear gas is outright toxic to ghosts. Perhaps the chemical itself is similar to, but just left of, ectoplasm. Like many artificial chemicals that can substitute various nutrients / usurp metabolic pathways in humans, it could have any number of mild to debilitating, short to long term effects on ghosts.

(If anyone has another idea, feel free to add)

Now we get to halfas, who have both a human brain and a ghost core. Dany has a human body and brain that are affected normally by the fear gas: hallucinations, panic attack, adrenaline response, etc etc. Someone better at biology can describe the actual biochemical processes going on.

But the ghost core? Added on top of All That? Can be excessively angsty, somewhat mitigating, or outright hilarious.

Going through the list of options:

Complete immunity.

This sounds boring, but its actually my favorite. Why? Because danny is getting conflicting signals. His brain is compromised and in full panic, but his core is telling him that he's completely safe. As a hybrid, Danny could be capable of having critical thought with both organs. If he's clever enough to recognize the seperation between the two, he can exploit it as a sort of anchor (I'm imagining it somewhat like how a multitasker can do different things with different senses, like listening to an audio book while solving a jigsaw puzzle - the book is auditory, the puzzle is visual and tactile, neither interfere with the other.)

Danny, in this scenario, is definitely in an altered state of consciousness, seeing things that aren't there and right on the cusp of panicking or defending himself. But if he can recognize that his core is unaffected, he can focus on the sensory input that his core is processing, and the whole situation might be somewhat equivalent to becoming lucid in the middle of a nightmare - its terrifying, but just the recognition that it isn't real takes the edge off. To him, it's now like being stuck in a VR horror game and being unable to take the headset off, flinching at all the jumpscares but recognizing that his body isn't actually being attacked or injured.

Affects ghost like humans

Danny could either be affected exactly the same as anyone else or effectively double-dosed as both brain and core fight entirely different hallucinations. Maybe if danny is lucky, he'll just black out from the sensory overload.

Ghost weed

This could make what was initially designed to be a really bad trip into something catastrophic... or mellow it out. Idk. I've never done recreational drugs. Both the brain and core are cut off from reality. The brain is terrified, and the core is tripping out. If his core naturally reacts to his emotional state, it's gonna amplify the effects, which is Really Bad. If the core is compromised to a point where it can't really process anything, then Danny is still trapped in a nightmare state, just more loopy and otherwise no worse than any human.

Health supplement and/or literal food

This one is confusing. Brain is terrified, core is satiated? Energized? A boost to his powers is gonna make him much more difficult to contain and treat. When he comes out of it, there's real potential for angst from danny worrying that the conflicting emotions of absolute terror and hunger satiation are a sign that he's turning evil. Especially if his core was instinctually feeding off of the fear of nearby civilians who were also gassed during the trip. That undercurrent of predatory satisfaction is gonna leave him awake at night for a few weeks.

On the plus side, feeding his ghost core might help it clear out the toxin faster, so the trip is much shorter. Maybe he even pulls out of it before he accidentally causes any damage with his powers.

Smelly

Pretty straightforward. If it smells bad, Danny is automatically gonna hold his breath, limiting his exposure. If it smells good, he might take a good few wiffs before realizing what's up and holding his breath, or just keeps dosing himself more and more as that effects, good or bad to the core and definitely bad to the brain, settle in.

Toxic

Has the potential to be much more long-term and insidious. You can run the full gamut here. Does he need to be restrained and taken to the far frozen for days or even weeks of treatment? Does the ectoplasm incorporate the drug, and Danny has to suffer weeks or months of microdosing until it's used up, turning him into a paranoid schizophrenic during that time? Is it blood blossoms 2.0? Does it have no mental effects but screws with his powers? Does it influence his emotional self-control? Does he grow the ghost equivalent of a tumor that encapsulates the toxin and has to be surgically removed? Does he need supplemental ecto to remain healthy, temporarily, or permanently? Does it affect his ectosignature or peak power level? Injure his core? Lower his healing factor?

All of this is on top of the initial fear gas trip, which he may have never even fully pulled out of. The angst possibilities are endless.

Then, there are liminals who have the potential to be affected like halfas or in an entirely different way. Does your headcanon give them proto-cores or baby ghost cores, or are they just severely ectoconaminated? How would that change their symptoms?

Anyways, just some ideas for people to use. My favorite idea so far, that I'd love to see someone use, is that Danny has learned to use his separate brain and core as insurance against mind control and mind-altering drugs. The freakshow incident was a sort of catalyst that helped him recognize the differences between his brain and core, and he taught himself how to lean into one or the other for various advantages in different situations. (Sort of like how a person can lean on either logic or intuition to make different types of choices.)

There's a lot of interesting potential here. Essentially, Danny could teach himself to be immune to mind-control and greatly resistant to drugs, as he can evaluate his surroundings with both organs and identify differences. Mind control wouldn't work unless it targeted BOTH brain and core, as he could shift to the uncontrolled one to break away. Any drug designed to knock out or roofie a human is countered by the fact that danny's core still remains conscious of his surroundings, and creative use of ghost powers counters the accompanying paralysis.

If ghosts dont sleep, one could argue that Danny's core is in a meditative state when his brain rests, which is why his ghost sense can wake him up from a dead sleep - he's never fully unconscious. Workoholic danny could find a way to get homework or paperwork done, or solve a problem, or design a piece of tech, or even play a videogame, while 'sleeping,' even using ectokinesis to move stuff while his body is sleep-paralyzed. Sleep-deprived danny is still functional because his core isn't affected by his brain's lapses in consciousness from micro-naps. (He is a lot moodier, though. His core is more emotion-focused while his brain is more logic-focused, on top of the normal mood-swings from sleep deprivation.)

This version of danny, after being fear-gassed, immediately recognizes that his brain and core are suddenly experiencing two different realities. He would be able to talk himself down from a panic attack and slowly find his way to safety. He probably wouldn't trust himself to hold back if he got in a scuffle, but he would be coherent enough to vaguely understand his surroundings to avoid danger.

And lastly, something I dont recall seeing in any fics - if the bats encountered fear-gassed Danny, and he's aware enough to refuse an antidote, I dont think the bats would push it. Yeah, forcing more medical trauma on our favorite blorbo is all good and fun, but he clearly has an altered metabolism that was affected differently by the fear gas than normal, so there's a heightened risk that the antidote would also have an altered affect, for the reward of removing the effects of fear-toxin (which is no longer guaranteed), which danny is already showing he's capable of working through.

On top of that, medical professionals are not allowed to force treatment if the patient refuses them and can walk it off. (If they are unconscious or can't get up on their own, they can intervene.) Medical conditions and allergies are a thing too, and its the priority of the patient to inform the medical worker as soon as possible to prevent complications. Jazz may have coached Danny about "in a medical emergency, declare closet-meta status with highly modified metabolism and unknown reactions to most drugs."

I see the conversation going something like:

"If you can hear me, im going to administer an antidote."

"Dont. Give it to someone who actually needs it."

And then the bat treats everyone else before approaching danny again to ask how they can help. They would be trained to take all of this into account:

Human male, visibly uninjured (unless the fic writer has different ideas) experiencing non-standard reaction to fear toxin. Probable indication of meta or enhanced status.

Victim is cognizent, replied to verbal communication, denied treatment. Appears to be managing the effects of the fear toxin. Not currently a danger to themselves or others.

Nonstandard reaction to fear-toxin implies potential non-standard reaction to antidote. Victim may be aware of medical condition that could complicate treatment, and is reasonably stable at the moment. Further questioning needed.

There are other victims in the area that are less cognizent, they become higher priority. Approach victim again when all other victims are cleared out, (in case of uncontrolled meta powers, to avoid further casualties), ask more questions and ascertain situation.

Once questioned further, danny drops the memorized line about altered metabolism and unknown effects, and giving Danny the antidote basically immediately becomes a non-viable option. They will probably argue Danny into being taken to Leslie's clinic, as he'll refuse a hospital (probably quite hysterically, given the fear toxin), which i'd imagine is the bat's normal protocol for closet-metas.

At least, that's how I imagine the situation panning out. Danny noping out before the bats return to him or during mid-interrogation is also extremely likely, which is gonna put the bats in panic mode for the next several hours. (Going to *any* secondary location with the bats is a non-option to Danny, for many potential reasons.) Danny is definitely going on a watch list (as in, possible meta with unknown powers, keep an eye out in case he gets caught up in another rogue scheme, need more information).

#dp x dc #dpxdc #fear gas #fear toxin

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needfantasticstories · 3 days

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Chapter 8 is FINALLY done!

"He’d traveled across time and between worlds, conquered shadows and broken the dreams of gods, and he could do it again, goddesses willing or not."

Legend faces his first Skulltulas, and meets someone new.

Exit Strategy

Legend leaned back on the metal door, hands shaking from exertion. He tried to catch his breath amid the smoke and ashes of the cavern, but it caught acrid in his throat and settled heavy in his lungs. Reluctant, he peeled open and ate one of the two honey candies he always kept in reserve for Hyrule or Wind, for healing and small bribes respectively, and chased it with another bottle of magic-restoring potion.

The last few red drops of potion in the glass glittered, mesmerizing in the dim torchlight. He put the empty bottle away. How the mage came to possess so many red potions from his own era, instead of just the elixirs common to Wild’s time, struck him again as odd. Still, Legend wasn’t complaining. They’d not been to his era for weeks, and his stock ran out days ago. Wild made fantastic elixirs for a range of uses, but magic wasn’t one of them.

The fake wall thudded as heavy weights slammed against it. Skulltulas . Legend winced at the thought of facing them again. Not yet . Tapping and scraping on the metal sang a gruesome tune of anger and hunger that reverberated into his spine.

Time and Sky had mentioned defeating the pests before. Apparently Wild had them too. He had to get back outside and face them. It’s Champion's era. What would he use? He huffed a weak laugh at a dozen memories of the champ exploding trees and fish, to Time’s horror. Bombs . And a rrows. Bomb arrows . Legend did not want to bring the whole canyon down just yet, and so searched his pouch. No Tempered blade in its usual place, that had been left in the mud at the ambush, along with his mirror shield.

Legend brushed over a familiar hilt in his bag, his fingers tracing over worn, braided leather. He gripped it tight and pulled the blade free, remembering that night, years ago, when he’d lifted it from uncle’s mantle to chase the girl’s pleading voice, Zelda’s voice, in his mind. His hands were so small back then. That night, hope from the princess and priests gave him courage to press on despite the rest of the kingdom turning against him. And he’d done it. Just a child. A man now. He looked at the simple blade, and repeated the promise he’d made that night.

I thought I ended him. I’m sorry I failed your world. But I will bring you back so we can heal it together, break your curse, and keep Gannon in his grave .

He’d traveled across time and between worlds, conquered shadows and broken the dreams of gods, and he could do it again, goddesses willing or not.

If he were truly blessed, Ravio might be ready for another adventure with him.

Breathe .

Yanking his power gloves on, Legend turned and shoved the metal wall open.

Pale sunlight bloomed through the gap to reveal biting cold air, drifting snow, and red sand.

Beyond the sandstone overhang casting its shadow over him, daylight shattered and speared between ropes of silk that criss-crossed the natural arena of the canyon. They almost masked the deep pit gaping in the center of it all in shadow.

Spiders twice his size with skull-like bodies and golden legs scurried to reach him, clawing forward on the webs and the ground as if starving. More emerged from the deep pit. They chittered and clacked as they crawled closer, spitting crude nets of webbing toward him.

He sidestepped the first net, then leveled his fire rod at the skulltula who’d sent it. The monster hissed as another one overtook it, both scrambling to reach the veteran first. Legend appreciated the wave of heat he released, a relief in the frigid air, and he left two charred bodies smoking where they fell before they burst into purple fog. The shimmering webs all around him crumpled and twisted away from the blaze, creating a small gap in the skulltulas’ dense weave.

Fresh air blew in, clearing the smoke and ash and Legend breathed.

“Rulie!” he bellowed, just in case. But only more spiders stirred in answer. Another massive black and gold body dropped in front of him. He stabbed it on instinct. With a crack and a crunch, it fell, legs twitching around his sword arm. He jerked the blade free and cleared more webs with fire. The sticky webs shriveled and spiders dropped.

Legend spun around the pit: slicing, burning, stabbing, again, again, again. Webs fell and revealed a vibrant blue glow coming from the far side of the arena. He’d seen a few like it before: in the rainforest where they’d first landed in Wild’s Faron region, and again just before Ghirahim’s ambush. It had to be another shrine, or similar sheikah magic. Wild used them to teleport, and it might get him and Hyrule back too, faster than slogging uphill into snowy mesas with Yiga on their tails.

Fire and sword steadily cleared a path to the shrine, skull-faced bodies leaving clouds of sulfuric smoke. Veils of webbing drifted almost lazily away under the golden sunlight now filling the arena, uncovering facades of windows and doors built against the cliffs.

Sooner than he’d expected, the last skulltula shriveled under his flames.

Legend panted as he turned all around, searching the walls and the pit for stragglers. Fire rod swapped for his traveler’s shield, the veteran braced himself for what might come next. The pit would be an ideal place for a moldorm, or gleeok. He watched, and waited.

Nothing moved.

The veteran adventurer wiped sweat from his face.

Wind blew sand across the gap, but not a whisper or sound came from inside. Anxious to get this over with, he peered down over the edge. Little yellow lights glowed around the edge, but no monsters emerged.

Hesitant, he scoured the arena, now painted in ash and scorch marks. “RULIE!” he shouted, and listened. But there was no sound, nor sign of any life in the arena beside himself. “RULIE!” The word echoed and faded, unanswered.

He turned to Wild’s shrine again, unsteady and jittery as the rush of battle left a swell of discomfort in its wake. Lightheaded and cold, but moving forward anyway, Legend approached the structure cautiously.

This shrine, radiating a piercing blue light, towered higher than the two others he’d seen: it jutted from the sand like a spike, the top half of smooth crystalline rectangles, but still with the gaudy, worm-like swirls around the base and archway like the other shrines.

Legend jumped atop its bulky platform.

A pedestal with a slanted top glowed, a rectangular hollow in the center. The light faintly pulsed.

But, how to make it work? How to activate it? Legend wiped sweat and ash from his cooling face and studied the pedestal beside the archway. The tilted face shone so brightly it was hard to look at for long. He explored the entire surface with his fingertips, the slate smooth and cold as ice, colder even than the drifting snowflakes melting on his hair and hands.

He pushed at the lights, prodded them in different orders, copied the pattern of constellations marked on the shrine.

Nothing .

He tried a mystery seed. He tried spells memorized from books Ravio brought up from Lorule about magic and potions.

Nothing.

He sent flames over the pedestal, across the entrance, and inside the little cave-like room within, hoping to activate something . Not a scratch or scorch mark remained for his efforts. Legend kept at it: he prodded every reachable surface, inside and out, for signs of a switch or a puzzle, but found only that perplexing dip in the center of the pedestal.

Nothing.

The light continued to pulse steadily, like an ancient mechanical heartbeat. He felt the gap, imagining the size and shape of what might fit inside.

Wild’s slate. This dip was just the right size for it.

Then it all made sense. That was the key. So only Wild could use it.

Determination turned to sour disappointment. In the blue glow of the shrine’s cave, Legend eased himself down to sit on the inner glowing platform. Too late, he realized it might have been a mistake: once teased with rest, his body collapsed. Sleepless nights and too many long fights made his limbs sluggish. The sun outside shone too bright. His joints grated at the slightest movement. He closed his eyes, half-wanting to sink into dreams, even knowing how dangerous as those could be, whether by a new deity needing his help to wake, or simply from a stray monster finding him an easy meal.

Legend groaned and forced his eyes open. He could not sleep yet. He needed to bring Hyrule back. If he could find his successor and get out, hold on long enough to get them to safety…away from that horrid demon and the mage the Yiga mentioned. Mages…Aghanim. Veran. Twinrova…the potions, stolen from the mage’s room…

His eyes closed, head dipping.

…the book.

The book!

Legend shook himself harder and sat up. He needed a plan if he wanted to prevent the terrible fate the book showed, and the hell that would bring: a new incarnation of Ganon, Hyrule dead. The Yiga knew about the curse. They would kill him. Gannon would be back.

Or the Calamity.

There was no time to waste. Legend unfurled the map. Blue light shone through the paper as he traced with shaking hands over dry red and black ink. None of the words looked familiar. Legend traced his wandering path backwards, pausing only to note that the mage’s chamber and the war room with the long table didn’t appear on the map.

Only two wings of the sprawling complex remained unexplored. Hope sparked warm in his chest when he realized one of them led to this arena. Examining the cliff walls again, he cleared out blistered webs and loose boulders, revealing a decorative gate. With a small, red-tiled roof and simple wooden frame, it was far humbler than the ornate gate framing the hidden passage he’d left earlier. It blended perfectly with the stone.

Hyrule, hold on. I’m almost there.

Legend tried pulling, pushing, and testing for hidden levers, but found none. It was like that tall shrine all over again. Which, as before, meant Wild probably had the answer. If Wars was around, he’d put money on the “key” to it. With a laugh and a hope, Legend lit the fuse, aimed, and tossed.

The explosion rocked the canyon. Sand and rocks poured down like waterfalls from the cliffs above. Dust cleared from the entrance. The veteran could almost hear Wild saying “See? Bombs!” with that wide, tilted grin of his.

Legend entered the mangled cave door. He leapt over debris and mangled spike boobytraps, and rushed deeper inside, throwing stones ahead to spring any more traps before he reached them.

Sweat dripped down his neck. He threw stones ahead as he rushed through the corridors, and sure enough spikes shot from the floor several yards ahead. Amateurs , he thought as they retracted, and he rushed across easily on winged boots.

Legend left a slew of mangled floor and wall spike-traps in his wake.

A large hallway opened ahead. His footsteps echoed, disturbing the quiet, yet no Yiga appeared. Strange . Nor had they appeared outside. Too empty, too quiet . Legend didn’t like it. After killing the monsters, and certainly after bombing the door, the place should be swarming with Yiga.

Had they retreated? Or if Hyrule had escaped, was he giving them such a tough fight elsewhere that they’d forgotten him? Or were they planning some attack or trap ahead? He’d rather take them on than continue with this eerie silence. But perhaps there were more monsters here than just the spiders, and they’d left defending the entrance to them? His gut twisted as he tried to push away another haunting thought: maybe they’ve started the ritual. Maybe they don’t need the book.

Blade and shield ready, he ran into the next hall, only to find more empty halls and sparsely scattered torches.

Cleanse . The word had been repeating in his mind since he arrived. A drum beat pushing him forwards while he’d searched. He would burn them all out on sight to free the world from this threat. For Wild. For Malon and Time. For Rulie, and for this era that had endured horrors enough.

But where were they? He knew he’d not killed all of them, the slippery bastards. Legend followed the switchbacking hall to the doorway of the next room, and stepped inside.

Inside, he found a spacious room bathed in the same red torchlight as the rest of the complex. The floor had been carved four steps deep and covered in sand: a training arena. Walkways converged at a large, padded stage in the center. Wide towers halfway to the corners of the room held lamps and long banners, the painted red eyes watching from all directions.

On the stage sat an old man: cross-legged, hands resting across a thick wooden cane in his lap. The coiled, blue haze of the man’s magic aura felt ancient . Legend had not felt such a stark reminder of his own youth since meeting Time, and this stranger felt much older still. He sat motionless, completely at ease.

And no wonder, the veteran thought: the old man was huge, and unlike any other Yiga he’d seen—bullish like the blademasters, but much taller. Even Time would have to look up to face him. Four and Wind could weave between his legs without bothering to duck.

The man wore no red bodysuit, but unadorned black robes. Painted on his black mask, the signature upside-down eye of the Yiga shimmered gold in the room's red glow. Snowy hair fanned in two halves from his top knot, hanging nearly to his shoulders.

Legend had seen this too many times before: the smug, relaxed arrogance of a dungeon’s final guardian. Usually a good sign that I’m going the right way, that I’m close. Perhaps this was the mage he’d stolen the book and potions from. On the far side of the room stood the way ahead. To his surprise, it was not a locked door, but an open hallway. He didn’t need a dungeon key—he just needed to get past this man.

Legend readied his sword and shield.

The stranger rose to his feet with the gravity of a talus. Legend resisted the urge to take a step back. Matching his shocking height, his voice rumbled deeply: “Come in, hero. I will not hurt you. I only wish to speak with you.” He planted the cane before him, resting his huge arms on it.

That was… unexpected.

Legend held his weapons tighter, eyeing the wooden cane of his opponent warily. Magic radiated around it. “Thanks, but I’m only passing through.”

“You seek your friend.”

Irritation flared in the veteran; not only at the man, but at his own confusion. What the hell was going on? Why was the enemy offering to talk ?

“Obviously,” Legend seethed. “You assholes and your demon lord were the ones who took him.” Though he’d hoped to match the even temper of the old man, he could not keep a snarl from leaking into his voice.

“No, hero. That demon is not my master. Not yet. My master is gone. I merely serve the clan in his honor, training them in our ways, but the mage leads our tribe now.”

So, not the mage. There went that theory. “Then who are you?”

“I am… I am no one. Perhaps one day I may reclaim my name, my revenge, and my honor. Until then, I am simply a teacher.”

Legend waited for him to elaborate, but he remained on the stage, watching. Maybe. Hard to tell under the mask. But the teacher remained silent. Legend rolled his eyes. Cryptic much? “Fine. Teacher, then. The Mage is in charge. Got it.”

A deep chuckle resounded from the Teacher. “The mage serves the demon lord. Yet he believes Lord Ghirahim serves him .”

Then he had the audacity to laugh again . “I sincerely apologize, young hero. No doubt yours was. not a warm welcome. We knew you’d not be easy to convince. But Fate has foretold of the role you will fulfill. The mage wishes to show you how to save your friend’s life. We will ensure your safety, for Destiny has willed it so.”

“Yeah, you were right,” Legend deadpanned, “I’m not convinced. I happen to know your mage wants my friend dead. So let's get this over with.”

The old man lifted the cane like a sword.

Legend sent magic into his boots, and the room streaked into blurs of color on either side as he charged the stage. When he reached it, the huge man disappeared in a cloud of red.

Legend took the chance. He rushed across the stage and onward to the open hallway on the far side. No slammed door, no lock, like he was used to. Just another hall. He only needed to stay ahead of this man and keep a strong lead as he searched. At worst they’d battle in the hall where Legend’s smaller form would have the advantage. With luck, the stubborn old brute would be bound to the room like most dungeon guardians, but Wild’s era proved unpredictable in that regard already. They’d all heard about the roaming lynels.

Legend jumped up the opposite steps in time to watch the tree-sized wooden bars slam over the doors, locking him in. He barely stopped in time.

“NO!” Legend struck the bars with his blade, but he knew it was pointless. In the center, he found a slot for a key. Legend scoured the room for the man who’d done it.

He did not see him anywhere. Time to draw him out. Win the fight. Get the key.

He walked cautiously back to the stage. The veteran turned slowly, listening. The silence pressed like a weight.

A brush of displaced air whispered behind him, and Legend spun and blocked the old man’s staff with his shield. The dense pole forced his shield down until he was nearly on his knees in a crouch. Legend swung his sword below his shield across Teacher’s leg. Metal clashed as his knight’s sword bounced off a hidden shin guard, its silver metal peeking through the sliced black fabric.

Legend tried to get out from under the man’s downward pressure, shoving with the help of his boots and jumping over a low swipe at his legs. But when he jumped, Teacher shoved him back. Skidding, Legend dug in and stopped the enemy’s goron-like momentum just enough to risk stabbing at Teacher’s knee, careful to keep his head covered.

The old man dodged it easily with a sidestep, but Legend turned his wrist and hacked from the side, digging into his soft inner thigh. A hiss told him he'd drawn blood, at least. But the pressure grew unbearable against his shield, threatening to topple him backward and crush him. Both arms burned as he tried again to shove Teacher off, but this time the boost from his pegasus boots was not enough to force him back.

“Fate cannot be thwarted. Yield, and save your friend.” The man spoke without strain, as if the shoving match between them took no effort. Legend ground his teeth and trickled more and more magic into his boots to push forward, yet the force against him mounted higher. Goddesses, he’s strong. He wants to test me.

Legend preferred to keep some surprises up his sleeve. He straightened with just a little boost from his bracelet, then danced aside in a spin—cap and tunic flaring—and let Teacher lurch forward in the empty place he’d left. Legend swung his sword around to hack into the old man’s unarmored spine as he passed.

Only Teacher hadn’t lurched at all, but dashed forwards quickly— too quickly—and spun as Legend had, nimble as a yearling buck. He faced Legend with that eerie black mask and flung his wrist. Two kunai blades, disturbingly like Ghirahim’s, slammed into Legend’s hastily-raised shield. The huge man charged again, cane ready to strike. But the veteran leapt high, flipping backwards in a soaring arc, and aimed his blade for the man’s head as he passed below. His opponent’s momentum would be his undoing.

But Teacher was gone . Legend’s blade cut empty air instead of splitting a skull.

Dammit! The teleporting coward!

Legend’s momentum sent a bruising shock through his knees, joints nearly buckling, as he landed.

Where did he–

The old man’s voice resonated from the door Legend needed to reach. “Hero of Legend, your name is well remembered by my tribe. In your time, we were allies.”

Legend straightened, panting. “Your tribe is just traitors and murderers now.”

“Young mage, hear me.”

“I’m not a—” Legend started, but Teacher interrupted, raising a placating hand.

“Upon the memory of Master Khoga, I vow that we only wish to teach you the spell to keep your companion alive.”

Legend had to fight back a laugh. Wild loved telling that story around the campfire of the Yiga clan leader accidentally killing himself with his own weapon and falling to his death. Yet the raw earnestness in Teacher’s voice gave him enough sense to not mock the still-grieving man. “Oh, well, now I’m convinced.” Legend scoffed. “Unless you're actually going to help me get Hyrule out of here, let’s get this over with.”

Teacher heaved a deep sigh, and rested his pole between his feet. “Let fate prove my words, as the knights of old, since you wish to fight. If you disarm me, I swear to stand aside. But if I disarm you, then you will stay and listen to the mage.”

“I’m not a knight. If you really know who I am, then you already know I’d never agree with anyone trying to bring back Gannon.”

“Do not let pride blind you to the good you may achieve with our help.” He lowered the cane to his side. “Let the mage teach you the spell that will save the Hero of Hyrule.”

Heat filled Legend’s vision, crawling up his neck, just like the rage he’d felt when he first arrived. It swelled to a boil as the pieces fell into place.

Legend knew what it showed in the pages of the book, knew what the mage truly had in store for Hyrule. “I don’t need him to teach me a damn thing. I know what you actually plan to do with ’Rule, so honestly? Fuck off.”

“You do not understand your role—”

“Enough!” Legend didn’t bother letting him finish. “I’m getting the key and getting out.”

“Hmm. It is a shame you chose to fight against Fate. But in the end, there will be no choice.” Teacher lifted his cane overhead, and the spell of concealment over it shattered. The Teacher lowered twin, single-edge blades, like the blademasters but larger and with hooked cross guards the size of dinner plates. His robes took on the fit of the blademasters too, but remained dark as night. “The mage will find other ways to convince you.”

Legend’s scowled, readied his weapons, and watched for the old man to make the next move.

Teacher disappeared again. A sudden grasp on his arms startled him. Legend shoved backwards to knock the old man down and break his grip. They tumbled off the walkway into the sand.

Legend scrambled up to face his enemy, spitting out the dry grains and shaking more out of his hair. “Can’t win without disappearing?” he shouted.

“As you fight with magic—” Teacher was behind him again. Legend whipped around and used his bracelet to slam his sword hard against the man. His opponent raised one arm and took the blow on his spiked vambrace, the blade inched from his masked head. “So do I.”

He had a point. Legend despised him all the more for it.

Teacher scissored his blades across Legend’s legs. But the hero leapt high, backflipping over the arcing blades, his sword arm coiling with tension to drive into the enemy’s head. Spiked arm guards blocked the midair attack, and before Legend landed, Teacher snatched his sword arm and flung him bodily onto the stage like a sack of grain.

Legend rolled to his feet from the toss and spun to face his opponent. Teacher did not pause his assault. Jumping onto the stage, he barreled forward, then tucked and rolled to the left when Legend struck, but it was a feint and too swiftly he leapt up from the roll and swerved right, crossed his arms to hold the blades high, and if not for Legend’s own flip back at the last moment, they would have taken his head as they scissored again. Instead, they swished just below his boots.

Blades lunged for him again, tips sparking with sharp magic. Legend barely rolled under their reach in time.

Teacher fought like a hurricane. Lightning fast, he hacked both blades at Legend’s right, striking the shield with the force of a lynel, in blurred succession. Reverberating pain shot up his arm. Legend swung into the storm with his own sword, but the man jumped high, and as Legend’s swipe passed through the abandoned spot, Teacher dropped down with his blades poised downward to skewer Legend from above. Legend blocked overhead, but marveled at how the huge man continued to hover above the ground. He’d seen the archers do it, but not blademasters, and this man seemed to be their teacher. Both blades swung down at his left side this time, Legend’s sword arm barely fast enough to block and parry. He could hardly track the motion. Metal flashed from the right and above, brutally shoving his shield and nearly dislocating his shoulder. Legend could only defend.

Still unbound by gravity, Teacher twisted in the air, spinning like a children’s toy as his blades became a whirl of red, like fire. Legend backed away, but the whirlwind slammed his shield, forcing him down to one knee.

It stopped when a fist cracked against his cheek.

The world tilted sideways, and his nerves kicked in late, dulled by whatever blow had landed on his head. Gravity caught him, clawing him down to the floor, though it seemed a tenuous situation, as if up and down could change direction again at any moment. Legend blinked hard several times, trying to get up, but shooting pain in his ribs kept him still. Curling his head up, he found a black shoe pressing him down.

Searing pain at the back of his knee brought the world back into sharp focus, and he gasped as a terrible sting throbbed, pulsing with heat and shock up and down his entire leg. The man’s dripping blade pulled free of the wound, and Legend realized he’d cut his tendon.

Bastard!

“Yield,” Teacher ordered.

Cleanse.

Legend let his hand answer, using the force of his power bracelet to strike Teacher’s unarmored hamstring with a gift from Sky clenched in his fist: a woodcarving knife.

The brute grunted, and his leg lifted enough for the veteran to push free.

Legend rolled under the man as the dual blades swung down where his legs had been a moment before. He’s still not fighting to kill. But I am! The veteran continued his roll behind Teacher and lunged to his feet, jumping high enough to swing at the back of his neck. But the old man turned with the agility of a snake and parried, shoving Legend back.

Legend landed clumsily in the sand on one leg, careful not to put weight down on his leg, but he could feel his magic ring already knitting the wound closed.

Teacher paused, breathing harder now. “Fate is unrelenting in its tapestry. Not even you can undo the weaving. Stop this pointless game.”

Cleanse.

“Funny, because I’ve killed the destined King of Evil even as a goddess-damned child , every time he showed his ugly face. Don’t waste my time.”

Legend did not wait for the old man to make the next move. His leg had nearly recovered enough to walk on. Okay. Time to dance .

Shield away, the veteran pulled free a cane, the top curled like a fern. A cane from the Dark World. The smooth blue surface shone purple in the red light as Legend lifted the cane of Byrna high.

When Teacher’s blow struck, his strength turned against him, bouncing off the shield and sending him flying backward with the force.

The hole left in Legend’s chest by the consumed magic ached bone-deep, but he was ready for the next attack. Fire rod again in hand, he gave the man no chance to recover his balance before hurling flame after flame against him.

The ground erupted at his feet, but Legend was ready. Nothing he hadn’t already seen today.

Legend sidestepped the blaze and lunged for the man with all his strength, natural and otherwise.

Then a curious thing happened.

The teacher moved like someone trapped in dense mud, like time itself had slowed down. The flames behind him crawled in its attempt to chase him. The teacher hardly moved at all, blades slowly cutting the air. Legend’s shield was already poised to block it. He’d seen this before… where had he seen it? The veteran could not recall just then, not in the heat of battle. Not daring to question the sudden surplus of time to attack, Legend landed his blow, heard the force of his hit, and yet the man hardly moved! Legend struck again, and again, and again, finishing with a spin attack.

The man flew backward into a pillar so hard that his mask cracked in half, landing beside his limp form on the sand.

Legend hurried down, and rifled around the man’s robes, searching for a bag or a...

There!

Legend darted across the walkway and up the stairs, and he shoved the key he’d taken into the lock. The gate slowly began to rise.

A brush of displaced air warned him. Legend swiveled and drew up his sword in one fluid motion.

Legend and the Teacher both held blades to each other’s throats.

“I will yield, as a sign of my sincerity. But consider this warning, hero,” the teacher growled, lowering his blade. “Fate is inescapable.”

And in a cloud of red, he was gone.

The doors opened.

Legend didn’t wait around to see if his concession was just a trick.

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

@estelian-01!!!! This chapter is dedicated to you! Thanks for being so excited about this fic, it has significantly led to it's forward progress!

A TRILLION Thanks to @hotcheetohatredwastaken for beta reading and giving fantastic suggestions, and finding all my silly little errors.

Also shout out to @not-freyja for answering all my many, many Legend questions!

#linked universe fanfiction #blood and blade #linked universe #skipwrites #lu legend #tw spiders

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suzukiblu · 2 days

Text

Ko-fi thank-you sentences for @this-was-a-terrible-idea behind the cut; nineties "Captain America" ride or die. ( chrono || non-chrono )

Hawaii is . . . a place. The asset might actually hate it, which is almost a novelty at this point in its existence. Hating something that isn’t a fascist organization or a murderous supervillain is something it honestly thought it’d forgotten how to do.

It’s a weapon, after all. A weapon and a thing and not enough of a person to hate things like “getting too much sun” and “too many tourists on the beach”.

There really are a fucking lot of tourists, though.

The asset suspects that Captain America just picked up the first brochure he saw at the airport and has been following its advice, as opposed to, he doesn’t know, asking a single fucking local where a quieter place to hang out might be?

Then again, Captain America seems to be enjoying the scenery. By which the asset means people-watching all the pretty dames in unexpectedly skimpy swimsuits. Which is definitely not typical Captain America behavior, but . . . well, what the hell does the asset know, anyway? The kid’s closer to the height it remembers, at least, if still a lot thicker. And his face looks right. And his tendency to get himself punched in the face, that’s right too.

The eyes are definitely right.

The asset gave Captain America its leather jacket for civilian camouflage on the way here. The kid proceeded to wear it over the damn armor because he refuses to wear anything but the armor, and also sewed a giant white star patch to the back of it and bought the douchiest sunglasses that the future has ever produced to wear with it. The asset has never previously seen cause to use the word “douchiest” in cold blood, but Captain America has once again expanded its horizons in new and unanticipated ways.

Fuckin’ punk.

“Punk” has some different definitions in the future, apparently, but Captain America seems determined to live up to all of them.

The asset also hates punk music, it turns out. Go figure.

How the fuck do people even dance to that shit, though?

. . . well, now it sounds like an actual centenarian, it guesses. Great. Which it is, technically, but that’s not the fucking point, alright? It’s a goddamn old man yelling at the kids on the corner for playing too loud or whatever, apparently.

As much as it counts as a “man”, anyway, old or not.

“Damn,” Captain America whistles, peering over his glasses at the back of a very pretty dame who’s just walked by.

The asset is increasingly certain something is awry here.

“You really should pick an alias, Cap,” it says.

“Why?” Captain America says, wrinkling his nose at it.

Because there is absolutely no way HYDRA is not going to find us while you’re walking around in their gear in public with their shield on your back, but I would like to at least PRETEND we’re trying to hide, the asset doesn’t say.

“It’d make it easier to avoid HYDRA’s attention,” it says instead. Baby steps or whatever.

Captain America, unfortunately, is still the same stubborn little shit he’s always been, and “baby steps” have absolutely never worked on him.

“So what?” he says. “We’ll just kick their asses if they do.”

The asset really should’ve known better.

“Understood,” it says instead of You’re a fucking idiot, kid, because . . . because it’s not the person who’s allowed to say things like that to Captain America.

It doesn’t have the right to be that person anymore.

Doesn’t deserve to be.

“Wanna hit the waves?” Captain America suggests. The asset will literally never want to do that, but supposes it should appreciate being asked for its opinion.

“No,” it says. Captain America doesn’t tase it for the refusal, which is . . . novel, again.

It really had forgotten how to say that word, it thinks, but Captain America has definitely reintroduced it to its vocabulary. Both in DC and in that lab, and especially ever since following him out of that lab.

The asset was really not prepared to have to explain why the legal drinking age applies to Captain America, for one thing. Though it’s not like alcohol really affects him, so . . .

It’s very difficult to explain to Captain America why a rule or law that he thinks is stupid or irrelevant is a rule or law that he should still consider listening to, is the thing. More accurately, it’s a fucking moron’s game, and most of the time the best the asset can do is distract or reroute him.

Still. Walking into a club or bar in HYDRA-issue stars-and-stripes body armor and ordering a cocktail that looks like the damn Fourth of July while undeniably a teenager would definitely draw both unnecessary and unwanted attention.

Also, the drinks are too damn expensive these days anyway, to say nothing of the damn cover charges. If the asset hears that “inflation” bullshit one more time, it’s gonna go goddamn dig up Reagan and kill him deader.

Trickle-down economics its ass.

“C’mon, Buck, you’re supposed to be the fun one, aren’t you?” Captain America teases it with a smirk, pushing his stupid douchey sunglasses up into his hair. The asset cannot think of a single thing more “fun” than avoiding ending up in HYDRA’s many arms again. Not regularly getting its brains fried out of its head is in fact the most fun it’s ever had in its life.

Seriously. Fuck everything else except that. There is not a single damn thing the asset wouldn’t rather do than that.

Except for be face-to-face with Steve Rogers again, obviously.

“I’m too busy sweatin’ to death for fun, Cap,” it says dubiously, hitching its heavy duffel bag up a little higher on the metal shoulder that’s currently mostly-camouflaged by a denim jacket and an unfortunate embarrassment of a Hawaiian shirt that Captain America had laughed at it for wearing. The asset doesn’t experience embarrassment when the alternative is sticking out like a sore thumb and obvious target, for obvious reasons, but Captain America apparently didn’t get that memo and had again refused to wear anything but the body armor.

Christ’s sake, they’re on a goddamn tropical island. Isn’t that fucking hot?

Stubborn little shit.

The stupid bullheaded stubbornness is SOP for Captain America, at least.

“Toldja you were overdressed,” Captain America hums. The asset rolls its eyes, which is a strange impulse, but it does it before it thinks better of it and then it’s already done it, so fuck it.

“You’re wearin’ a leather jacket and fuckin’ nanobot-enforced Kevlar right now,” it reminds him dubiously.

“Breathes pretty good, actually,” Captain America says with a grin, adjusting his lapels as he preens.

The asset genuinely does not know what its life even is anymore.

#this-was-a-terrible-idea #wip: nineties 'captain america' ride or die

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wallterwall · 1 day

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-Yum Zlurplie

You know what? Fuck you. You useless piece of shit. You absolute waste of space and air. You uneducated, ignorant, idiotic dumb swine, you’re an absolute embarrassment to humanity and all life as a whole. The magnitude of your failure just now is so indescribably massive that one hundred years into the future your name will be used as moniker of evil for heretics. Even if all of humanity put together their collective intelligence there is no conceivable way they could have thought up a way to fuck up on the unimaginable scale you just did. When Jesus died for our sins, he must not have seen the sacrilegious act we just witnessed you performing, because if he did he would have forsaken humanity long ago so that your birth may have never become reality. After you die, your skeleton will be displayed in a museum after being scientifically researched so that all future generations may learn not to generate your bone structure, because every tiny detail anyone may have in common with you degrades them to a useless piece of trash and a burden to society. No wonder your father questioned whether or not your were truly his son, for you'd have to not be a waste of carbon matter for anyone to love you like a family member. Your birth made it so that mankind is worse of in every way you can possibly imagine, and you have made it so that society can never really recover into a state of organization. Everything has forever fallen into a bewildering chaos, through which unrecognizable core, you can only find misfortune. I would say the apocalypse is upon us but this is merely the closest word humans have for the sheer scale of horror that is now reality. You have forever condemned everyone you love and know into an eternal state of suffering, worse than any human concept of hell. You are such an unholy being, that if you step within a one hundred foot radius of a holy place or a place that has ever been deemed important by anyone, your distorted sac religious soul will ruin whatever meaning it ever had beyond repair. You are an idiotic, shiteating, dumbass ape and no one has ever loved you. Rhodes Island would have been better off if you'd never joined us. You are a lying, backstabbing, cowardly useless piece of shit and I hate you with every single part of my being. Even this worlds finest writers and poets from throughout the ages could never hope to accurately describe the scale on which you just fucked up, and how incredibly idiotic you are. Anyone that believes in any religion out there should now realize that they have been wrong this entire time, for if divine beings were real, they would never have allowed a being such as you to stain the earth and this universe. In the future there will be horror stories made about you, with the scariest part of them being that the reader has to realize that such an indescribable monster actually exists, and that the horrific events from the movie have actually taken place in the same world that they live in right now. You are the absolute embodiment of everything that has ever been wrong on this earth, yet you manage to make it so that that is only a small part of the evil that is your being. Never in the history of mankind has there been anyone that could have predicted such an eldrich abomination, but here you are. It’s hard to believe that I am seeing such an incredible failure with my own eyes, but here I am, so unfortunately I cannot deny your existence. Even if I did my very best, my vocabulary is not able to describe the sheer magnitude of the idiotic mistake that is you. Even if time travel some day will be invented, there still would not be a single soul willing to go back in time to before this moment to fix history, because having to witness such incredible horrors if they failed would have to many mental and physical drawbacks that not even the bravest soul in history would be willing to risk it. I cannot imagine the pure dread your mother must have felt when she had to carry a baby for nine months and then giving birth to such a wretched monster as you.

Not a single word of the incoherent, illogical rambling you may be wanting to do to defend yourself or apologize would ever be able to make up for what you just did. The countries of the world would have wanted to make laws preventing such a terrible event like this from ever happening again, but sadly this is not possible since your horrific actions just now have shattered every form of order this world once had, making concepts such as laws irrelevant. Right from the moment I first set my eyes on you I knew you were an absolute abomination of everything that is wrong with humanity. I was hoping I would have been able to prevent your evil from being released upon this world by tagging along and keeping my eye on you, but it is clear to me now that not even the greatest efforts would have been able to prevent a terrible event in this scale from occurring. You are the worst human being, or even just being in general, that I have ever had the misfortune of witnessing. Events like the infected plague apparently only happened with the goal of teaching humanity to survive such a horrible event as the one you just created, but not even mankind’s greatest trials were able to even slightly prepare anyone for the insufferable evil you have just created. If you ever had them, your children would be preemptively killed to protect this universe from the possibility of anyone in your bloodline being even half as bad as you are, except you will never be able to have children, because not a single human being will ever want to come within a hundred mile radius of you and anything you have ever touched. You are a colossal disappointment not only to your parents, but to your ancestors and entire bloodline. The disgusting mistake that you have just made is so incredibly terrible that everyone who would ever be to hear about it would spontaneously feel an indescribable mixture of immense anger, fear and anxiety that emotionally and physically they would never truly be the same ever again. The sheer scale of your mistake, if ever to be materialized, would not only surpass the size of the world, but it would reach far beyond the edges of the known, and almost certainly the unknown universe. I could sit here and write paragraphs, nay, books describing your immense failure, yet even if I were to dedicate my life to describing the reality of what has just gone down here, and I would spend every moment of it until my heart stops beating working as hard and efficiently as possible, yet there is not even a snowballs chance in hell that I would be able to come close to transcribing the absolute shitshow you have just released upon the world. You are an irresponsible, idiotic, disgusting, unloved, horrible excuse for a living being who’s soul contains less humanity than every ginger in history combined. The absolute disgust I feel when thinking about anything that has even a slight resemblance to anything that might have to do with you and your unholy actions is so incredibly great that when I am honest about it I think that even I do not posses a consciousness great enough to comprehend my own feelings about it. When people of Columbia fought to break free from Lungmen, countless soldiers fought and lost their lives in favor of a chance at a better future for their children, they did not give their lives to have you fuck the world up beyond repair to the degree that you are doing right now. Honestly, even when technology advances and studies on the subject become more and more accurate, I do not think humanity will ever truly be able to understand what your failure actually means for the universe.

My hate for you and everything you stand for is so much deeper than the depths of Shambala that you could probably take the entire Lungmen population down there and back up around twenty million times before you would have sunk to the end of my hate, and honestly, I do not want to exaggerate, but I think that that insult was low balling it such a massive amount that all mountains in this world combined would not be able to stack up to this imprecise judgement in light of the fact that when being honest, my hate is almost certainly bottomless. There is no one in this world that has ever loved you, and especially after what you just did, no one will ever love you in the future either. There is no hope that your idiotic behavior and especially your crooked soul will ever change for the better, and in fact quite the opposite might be true. By making the mistake that you just did, you have shown me that you are so incredibly hopeless that you will only devolve into a more idiotic and wretched creature than you already are. The only possible way in which your future would be brighter than the black hole your existence currently is would exclusively be because there is absolutely no conceivable way that you would even be able to sink lower than the pathetic place your current failure has put you in. But then again, you are so incredibly abominable that you would probably be able to surpass the worst conceivable failure a living being could possibly make. You are so incredibly pathetic that you are honestly not worth any more of my words nor my time. Just remember that I will forever detest you for your failure and everything you stand for, and no matter what happens, I will never ever forgive you.

#wallter answers

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