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kentuckywrites · 4 years

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Imperium: Cauldros

Ego semper amo. (I will always love you.)

The Beacon was one of several points that led directly to the planet’s heart. The continent it resided in had been overtaken by industrialization, turned into a burning hellscape. He couldn’t remember what it looked like before the fire consumed it, but the planet did. The image was shared between them. He would mourn the loss of life, but deep in the fire there was new life blooming. Deep in the Beacon would be where the planet created its new form, its very own life.

The climb up to the Beacon’s highest point was a daunting task. His two legs carried him up the entire way, but screamed in fatigue during the latter half of the trip. The heat of the continent was getting under his skin, making him uncomfortable. But he reminded himself that he was here with a purpose.

Today, the planet would no longer be a voice in his head, but a companion to walk alongside. As he stood before the gaping mouth of the Beacon, he held a number of flora in his arms, the ingredients he would add to the planet’s new form. He stole a few breaths before the planet spoke, the air hot and humid.

“Are you ready?”

“More than we will ever be,” He replied, unable to contain the anticipation that laced his voice.

“Good. Throw what you have gathered into the Beacon.”

He did so without hesitation. The flora crumpled into the lava below, and in seconds ether began to form, began to rise into the air. The ground rumbled beneath his feet, but he was not scared. The scene before him was too mesmerizing, too pivotal to ignore.

Some of the lights began to condense and press into each other, creating a larger mass. He watched as legs began to take shape, arms, a torso, a head. The planet hummed softly, a sign that things were going well.

“You chose many of your offerings from Noct’ikai-lysium and Siy’valis-um, I see.”

“We wished for you to take inspiration from their light,” He explained, “From the energy that they harbor. They were hand picked from some of your highest locations, where the stars kissed each and every one at night.”

“The stars, you say?...I have an idea.”

As the body was taking fruition - a humanoid, certainly modeled after the humans that had crash landed not long ago - the planet mumbled directions to itself.

“This form will have fair skin and black hair, a contrast of light and dark found in Siy’valis-um. Their eyes...their eyes will be full of stars.”

The body’s face then turned to him, and he was met with wide, indigo eyes. They were pupiless and unblinking, but they held an unspeakable universe within them, an otherworldly hint that only he and the planet could understand.

“Pong’netai-opta,” He breathed.

The planet chuckled.

“This would be considered an abnormality to the human race, but in this state, I cannot help but -”

The ground quivered again, but this time it was accompanied by what could only be described as a shock wave. The Beacon fluctuated, pulsating as the ether in the air flickered.

The planet gasped.

It was in pain.

“Where did my power go?”

He felt his heart ache, his stomach do somersaults inside his body. The planet, his beloved planet, was hurting. He didn’t know what to do, if he could do anything. The body they had created together suddenly threw itself from the sky and down back into the Beacon, ether trailing behind it. He cried out, and in sync, the planet screamed.

And then, the Beacon was tamed, and the ground grew still. He stared down at the Beacon, all remnants of ether gone without a trace.

“Are you there?”

His question went unanswered, but the silence gave the only answer he needed.

“Recover, dear friend. If your body did not form, then call upon us as you need. We love you.”

And he walked down the Beacon, his head heavy with regrets. Despite what he’d said, he felt a sense of relief. He was alone once more, but at least now he had a purpose to serve, a reason to keep living.

If the planet’s form survived, he would find it. If not, he knew what it wanted to achieve. He would be the one to help humanity survive.

No words were spoken on the flight to Cauldros. Elma and Lin didn’t ask Pongo where he had been, didn’t ask for clarification on what had happened during those long three months. Neither did L, to be fair, but at least he could pick up some of the clues and piece them together. Perhaps Elma and Lin had done the same.

Pongo had mentioned how drilling for miranium had weakened the planet, how Mira couldn’t communicate with most of its creations now. It was a sentient force, one that connected every living being that inhabited its surface, even L. Being spoken to was a rare occurrence, but feeling its power within him, its will? That was not a foreign sensation. It was akin to the Orpheans and their Ovah, a gut feeling inside his stomach, his heart, his mind - but in the end Mira was its own life force, not a virus, and it communicated through its miranium.

And over the months after Pongo’s disappearance, there had been a number of cases regarding broken mining probes. Some had even disappeared from their positions. BLADE was startled about the whole ordeal; L recalled how Kirsty seemed abnormally panicked about it. It was hard not to be concerned, given how probes weren’t just the source of their miranium, but provided crucial data for BLADE by researching their surrounding area. BLADE had come to rely on the probes so much that they didn’t have a backup plan, and as a result the economy took a tumble. L hadn’t gotten that many customers at his store, nor any BLADEs requesting to use the augment machine. It was dismal, to say the least, especially after three months of never finding the culprit.

But, given what Mira wanted - what Mira would kill humanity for - the reasoning became clear.

L’s hands clutched the controls of his Skell, his gaze intense as Mount M’Gando grew closer on the horizon. He’d been scared of this, of Pongo following in his footsteps, becoming a weapon for the planet’s devices. But this was different, he had to concede. At least Mira had told Pongo its plan. At least they were working together towards the same goal from the start. L could only pray that things didn’t turn out like it had for him.

“Mount M’Gando, the Beacon of Mira,” Pongo’s voice echoed over the intercom, full of awe. “It is one of three entryways to the heart of the planet, but only this one can return me completely.”

“I assume your plan was to fall into the volcano, and the heat would disintegrate your body back into its original state?” Elma asked, a question that came across as more cold and morbid than L anticipated.

“Exactly! It should be painless, but ah...well, I have never done this before, so I am not certain!”

“You sound too excited for a suicide mission,” Lin said.

Pongo paused. “This will save Mira and all its inhabitants. I find it hard to be sad or scared about that.”

L opened his mouth, the makings of a complaint forming on his lips, but words escaped him. Pongo was a stubborn man. No amount of convincing could change his mind on what would benefit the human race, the indigens of Mira, all life he had grown to love and care for.

It was admirable, almost to a fault.

Time seemed to quicken, and with the blink of an eye L had landed his Skell next to Lin’s on the top of Mount M’Gando. Pongo and Elma exited their Skells first, followed by Lin. L hesitated, taking a deep breath before climbing out to greet the stifling Cauldros air. The warmth of the volcano abused his skin, smoke and ash and fire attacking all his senses. It was a companion to the stress he was trying to swallow down. At least the others would be able to attribute his sweat and heightened nerves to the heat.

Elma pulled out her comm device, and from the screen L could make out a new message. She scanned over it before addressing Pongo. “Vandham just informed me that Pharsis may be closer to escaping than they originally believed. He’s given me an estimate of two hours until she breaks free.”

Pongo didn’t respond. He had inched closer to the edge of the volcano’s mouth, staring down at the lava below. He was faced away from L, but he knew what his best friend was thinking. His silence spoke a thousand words, a tale of love and hurt. They were both sad that his story had to end so soon.

“So...this is it,” Lin said, her voice wavering as she tried to sound strong, “Do you really want to go through with this? Maybe we can find another way…”

“No.” Pongo’s fists curled at his sides, “This is the fastest way to ensure your safety. My death will reconnect the Endbringer to Mira, and she will fortify the prison the Everqueen is sealed in.”

“We could still fly to Noctilum!” She cried, “Maybe it would recognize you and you could -”

“Lin.”

Finally Pongo turned, and L’s eyes widened as he saw tears in his eyes. “I promise, everything will be okay. One life for millions - how could I decline?”

“Don’t you DARE.”

L was surprised to hear himself say that, and judging by the others’ looks, they shared the sentiment. But he couldn’t stop himself from continuing. “We understand the weights you are trying to shoulder, but we know you too well, we know you believe your life does not compare to any others!”

“L’Cirufe, please, this is not about that!” Pongo choked on a sob, “I refuse to watch you all die when there is something I can do to stop this!!”

“Don’t forgive our selfishness, but we would rather witness the world’s destruction than to lose you!! Have you failed to understand just how wide our love is for you?!”

There was a pause as L’s confession sank into Pongo’s heart, clung to his soul. L almost didn’t register Elma’s hand on his upper arm, too short to reach his shoulder. Lin switched her gaze between L and Pongo too many times to count, shivering despite the heat.

“We know, L’Cirufe.”

L squinted, and he saw that Pongo’s eyes had turned white. They’d flashed white that fateful day in the city, his body spasming as he fought for control, but now he was collected, free of pain. L stepped forward, and Elma stayed behind. He walked past a frightened and conflicted Lin until he was a mere foot away from Pongo - or rather, Mira.

“He has fond memories of your time together,” Mira said, solemn and wistful though the memories he spoke of weren’t his own, “And it is because of those memories that he wants to do this. You...you mean a lot to him, just as you did to me. And once he returns to me, you and the life I have created will be free of this evil. He wants that for you more than anything.”

“You must be Mira,” Elma came up behind L, standing by his right side. Through all that had happened, she remained calm, though this close L started to hear her voice shake. “You’re certain that this is the quickest way to stop Pharsis from escaping?”

Mira nodded. “It is.”

“And this will kill Pongo.”

“...It will destroy this body. I can preserve his memories and recreate a new body for him once I have regained more strength.”

“For that, you’ll need more miranium,” Lin said, approaching from L’s left, “We can do that! I can pull some strings and get some of the arms manufacturers to pull their probes.”

“I can also put in a good word with HQ,” Elma grinned softly as the new information dawned on her. “Rest assured, we’ll do what we can to help you. After all, you’ve helped us for so long without reward...it’s only reasonable to do the same in return.”

Mira wiped away some of Pongo’s tears with a gentle hand before extending it to shake. “Thank you...thank you both.”

In a twist of events, Elma didn’t take Mira’s hand. Instead, she rushed forward, embracing him in a tight hug. Lin did the same, and Mira’s hands wrapped around them both, Lin’s sobs muffled by the raging volcano. It was only after a few moments, only when Mira looked up and his eyes returned to Pongo’s indigo, only when he extended a hand for L to join, that he hugged them all and shook with the fever of his bottled emotions.

The hug ended too soon. The three stepped away from the one, but Pongo kept his gaze on them, his smile betraying his eyes. “So...this is goodbye, for now.”

“When you get back, you owe me a hot chocolate,” Lin managed to grin, wiping away her tears with a sniffle.

“A hot chocolate, and the biggest, bestest hug,” Pongo added on.

“It’s hard to say goodbye, but I’ll remain hopeful for your speedy return,” Elma said, and L saw that she was crying too, though her tears were silent and refined. They shone like crystals, the light of the volcano reflecting off of them like stars in a vast sea.

Pongo reached out to L, and their hands entwined. His hands were much smaller than L’s, a collection of skin and sturdy fabric. The parts of his skin that he could feel were slightly calloused, but they held onto L with such a soft and delicate strength. It was a power only Pongo could manage, and they remained a pillar for L’s shaking palms.

“I am sorry for how we left things in Oblivia,” Pongo whispered, “Even in my shock, you did not deserve that sort of treatment. And I am sorry I will not be able to make that up to you, at least not for a while.”

“Perhaps you can owe us a hot chocolate as well,” L said.

“I owe you so much more than that, L’Cirufe.”

Pongo pulled L’s arms downwards until they were at Pongo’s eye level. Staring into Pongo’s eyes, L saw the world, the night sky made bright and beautiful and contained within a single soul. He got lost within them, and he only found his way back when Pongo’s lips met his own. It was a gentle kiss, mimicking how his hands had taken L’s. Now he knew for certain that Pongo was his world, no, his universe. He was every star and asteroid and all of the galaxies that they comprised. He was infinite, so full of possibilities and brimming with life.

He couldn’t let go. Not like this.

And so the kiss ended, and Pongo stepped back. With a final squeeze of L’s hands, his lips parsed open, finding the perfect words to end a perfect moment.

“Promise me that you will continue to live, and to bring life.”

L could only nod. How come words failed him when they came so easily to Pongo? When his hands let go, L suddenly went cold. This was it.

Pongo turned towards the volcano once again, and with one deep breath, he stepped into the open air, his body plummeting down into the lava below. Lin gasped, and Elma clutched the young Outfitter as she weeped. L was frozen in place. Watching. Waiting.

Minutes passed. It felt like hours, to L. But eventually the ground began to shake, and lava exploded upwards not in a show of reds and oranges, but in wisps of blues and greens. He discovered it was ether when it kissed his skin, when he felt rejuvenated and whole. It rained down on them all like the energy mist of Sylvalum, and in the distance, L saw the lights of the Telethia’s wings. It roared shortly after, having reached its destination. L watched as it circled the Noctilucent Sphere, the prison of Pharsis the Everqueen, but beyond that the small details were uncertain. When the ground returned to its normal state, when the Telethia gave its final screech before heading back in the direction of Noctilum, Elma’s comm device started ringing. She took it out, and Lin and L crowded around, praying that whatever they were about to hear was good news.

“The Telethia came around, and now the sphere’s gone quiet. Crisis averted, for now. What’d you guys do?”

Vandham’s tone was confused, but the proclamation was a much needed relief. Elma quickly told him, “We’ll brief you on the details when we’re back in the city. For now, let’s celebrate our success.”

She put her comm device away, and then spoke to Lin and L again. “Let’s go home.”

They didn’t need to be told twice. But L couldn’t help but stay behind for a moment as it fully sunk in that Pongo’s Skell wouldn’t be returning with them to NLA. He made a silent promise to return for it before the three entered their Skells and began their flight home.

Secretary Nagi and Vandham were informed of Pongo’s sacrifice. Elma had told them not to mourn, for if time was kind and their efforts fruitful, he would return home soon. They weren’t told why or how, simply that his sacrifice wouldn’t be in vain.

Life continued as normal. L’s shop took precedence in his life, and business boomed, especially after some new environmentally friendly technology found its way into his hands. Jejebba ran errands most the time, leaving L to man the shop alone most days, but sometimes a familiar face would pop by. Sometimes it was Elma, having a day off from BLADE duties to stand by and chat during quiet moments. Sometimes it was Lin, who brought along new inventions and materials to market to potential buyers. Sometimes it was Mia, who more often than not stuck around for idle conversation rather than to buy anything he had to offer. Every friend who came by, regardless of their intent, was appreciated.

L fell into routine again, throwing himself into his work. Sometimes he mixed things up by joining BLADEs for a field mission or two, but those were rare treats. Besides, the city life was exciting enough, especially after the events involving Pharsis. He gave himself a day to mourn, and distracted himself enough that his grief faded into the background.

The nights gave him time to think, time to stew in his memories of those long and painful months. There were nights he cried himself to sleep, though he would never mention that to his friends. There were nights that an indigo-eyed Interceptor plagued his dreams, promising him that he’d be home soon. There were nights were L believed it, and there were nights that L didn’t.

But he never forgot. It would disservice Pongo’s memory, Pongo’s life, Pongo’s wishes.

And so he pressed on. A day came that was like most others, a busy weekend full of profits. Jejebba was with him today, convincing a potential customer to buy some strange replica of a red and blue geometric sword. It reminded L of Lin’s hairpins, and he wondered for a moment how she was doing. She hadn’t stopped by in a while, probably busy with her division duties. His thoughts about his friends consumed him as he fiddled with some extra supplies behind his tent, and he almost didn’t catch the audible gasps and murmurs of excitement outside. Curious, he finished up his organizing and poked his head around the corner of his tent.

There were a decent amount of people around his shop, so L initially thought that Jejebba had done a damn good job of presenting some knick-knack to them. But they weren’t focused on the Manon. No, they were focused on another human standing among the crowd, and that man was staring at L with slightly creased indigo eyes, holding a styrofoam cup in his hand. L had to do a double take, then a triple take.

“I know I said I owe you more than a hot chocolate,” Pongo said, “But I figured it could be a good start.”

And from there, the rest was history, mapped out in their hearts like the constellations of Mira’s night sky.

#xenoblade x #Imperium: Cauldros #I FUCKSING CRIED DURING THIS #BUT ITS OVER NOW!!!!#thank you all for following me on this adventure #I bet past me would be proud of this #anyways welcome to L/Pongo shipping moments #who's ready for the SEQUEL BABEY

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krshush · 4 years

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Me: y’know, I haven’t played much P5R in awhile, I haven’t been Thinking on it as much, maybe I’m fine now Also me, watching gameplay of P5S: I’m not gonna cry, why am I emotional, I mean yes we’re gonna see these characters again and I’m full of love at the concept of going back to this setting, but like it’s fine I’m fi--

#[vibrating in place at the speed of light] I like Persona a normal amount #K.R. shush #the range of me having my Opinions on the series entire including P5R but also REALLY being excited abt P5S. that's nuance babey.#I still think it's an interesting take for them to put P5S on PC as well because like... isn't it narratively a sequel?#granted they're doing so after seeing P4G get such BIG fucking numbers there and I doubt it's necessarily easy #to get P5(+P5R) out of being Playstation exclusive. at least not on P4G's coattails alone. Hmm.#Alas I can't actually help P5S's Steam or even Switch sales bc I'd rather have it on PS4 #unless I got friends who want it and I can like y'know buy it for them w/Steam's gift feature #I DO genuinely want to see the series on at least a few more platforms. the amount of people I know who'd probs play if it were on Switch #or even the PC exclusive ga(y)mers I know who'd maybe give P5 a chance if it were on Steam #...but also amidst this rambling I feel I'm giving Atlus too much credit honestly.#Persona blogging #also bro what I still really want is at least P3 in a digital market do they KNOW how many mother fuckers would sink IN on that #the amount of fans new (who want to play the backlog of the series) and old (who acclaim P3 is Their Fave Game) who would GET IT #but Atlus ain't ready for that conversation.#(also I want the classic games P1 and P2 available I've heard particularly good things abt 2 but like things are up in the air apparently #w/1 and 2 So I won't hold my breath)

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max-is-tired · 4 years

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bad things happen request: A1 + roceit? -ren

Remember me (for centuries)

Pairing: the AU is queerplatonic Roceit and romantic Analogicality, but the ships are not very prominent in this installment

Characters: Roman Sanders, Janus Sanders, Remus Sanders, Patton Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Logan Sanders

Words: 3.835

Warnings: superhero AU, implied morally grey Janus, Remus and Roman, superpowers, swearing, a muzzle is used, fighting, there’s a character (OC) that has very black and white views and definitely goes too far because of it, if I need to add anything else please tell me

Notes: guess who’s back babey!!!!! After two months of writer block, I’ve managed to churn out this little monster in less than 3 days and I’m honestly lowkey real proud of it sjkcndjkscn it’s inspired by this idea I had the other day and after I remembered this specific prompt I just went full feral writer mode. I even have a few ideas for a sequel, so there’s that I guess!!

First fic for the @badthingshappenbingo!! The red squares are prompts that have already been requested, feel free to send more in though!! I don’t know how long it’ll take me to get to them but hopefully you won’t have to wait too long. Hope you guys like the fic!!!

Commission me!! Buy me a coffee!! Join my Discord server!! AO3!!

Once upon a time, there was a King.

He was as regal as he was mysterious, powers so strong he might as well have been able to make literal mountains kneel before him. Everyone knew of him, from the filthiest criminal to the richest man. He saw everything, heard everything, nothing and no one could escape his power. He was the judge and the executioner, protected the city in the way he saw most fit with the Puppeteer and the Duke standing at his sides.

The government called him dangerous. The people secretly called him a hero.

Once upon a time, there was a King. Until one day, he was no more -exactly how Roman had wanted it to be.

+++

Parting ways with Janus and Remus hadn't been easy. They'd been at his side since the very beginning, from the first appearance of his power to his decision to do whatever it took to protect those who couldn't.

"I'm always down to fight the government," Janus had said with a smirk, easily slipping into his Puppeteer alter ego as Remus simply swung his morning star around with a feral grin.

In the end, though, the King had had to go, and even then those two had supported his decision. What Roman had done to deserve his brother and his partner, he still had to understand. And besides, it wasn't as if he had had to cut them out of his life or anything! They still hung out lots during the day, either at the twin's apartment or at Janus' penthouse (being the only heir to a very rich family could have its perks, he supposed).

But at the end of the day, when the sun left the sky and the cover of the night fell over the city, it was the Puppeteer and the Duke who patrolled along the dirty rooftops, taking on those crimes Lady Justice seemed to overlook -Roman was nothing but a college student now and could only watch from afar, some part of him stubbornly longing for days that had since come to an end.

Or at least, that had been the plan. Then, well, Patton had happened.

They had met during a Psychology class they were both taking -for Patton, it was for his major, while Roman was just there for the credit. They had hit it off almost immediately, the both of them bonding over the pain that were morning classes and bemoaning how much money they were probably going to spend at the local coffee shop in order to survive the semester.

As much as he prided himself of being way smarter than people gave him credit for, Roman couldn't say he had figured his classmate's secret identity out immediately. It had taken him a few weeks and even then, he had needed Janus' help for his brain to click the dots into place.

Well, actually, it had been thanks to the recordings of one of the Puppeteer and the Duke's patrol sessions, during which the two had managed to stumble upon the new ragtag trio of superheroes, Storm, Heart and Logic, taking care of a small robbery downtown.

Janus and Roman had been analyzing the video, with Remus unhelpfully chucking pieces of popcorn at the back of their heads, when video-Heart had thrown his head back and laughed, grinning from ear to ear as Logic seemed to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration.

Roman had frozen, the laugh ringing clear as day in his head as the last piece of a puzzle he hadn't known had been there slid into place -he knew that laugh, heard it every Tuesday and Friday morning before class as he sipped at his coffee and watched Patton try to fit as many puns as he could into a single sentence.

Patton was Heart. His friend was a superhero. Well, shit.

So yeah, Roman had figured it out and immediately started panicking about the newfound information. Janus and Remus, of course, had found the entire thing hilarious, teasing him about having somehow managed to stumble upon and befriend a superhero without even knowing it.

In the end, though, what exactly could he do? Roman was only a college student, and it wasn't like Patton was doing this alone -he had Storm and Logic by his side, keeping him safe and watching his back. His friend would be fine.

Then, of course, in came Virgil and Logan, the infamous roommates Patton had wanted to introduce him to since day one. In less than an hour, Roman had managed to help Pat gently bully Virgil out of his binder for the night and start a debate with Logan about the scientific accuracy of Elsa's powers and just how theoretically powerful she could have become based on the abilities she had showed in the movies.

(Olaf's existence had sparked a whole other tangent about conscience and the existence of souls on a metaphysical level, but Roman was not going to think about it lest he ended up having another existential crisis).

The real plot twist had happened much later into the night, when Roman had woken up to frantic whispering and soft rustling coming from somewhere to his right. Still keeping his eyes shut, he'd managed to catch the words "robbery" and "be careful" before hearing one of the windows gently slide shut.

Making sure to not alert anyone about his eavesdropping, Roman had waited until all he could hear was steady, even breathing before quietly sitting up, eyes shining gold into the darkness for a second before spotting Logan and Patton's figures on the ground -as for Virgil, he seemed to be nowhere to be found, the apartment being completely silent beside the two sleeping soundly beside him.

Roman had a suspicion. A very nagging suspicion in the back of his mind that was probably going to bother him until he got to the bottom of his. So, in the morning, he'd said goodbye to his new friends and headed to Janus' place, pondering over alternative explanations on the way over. Not that it would have been of any use since Janus did confirm that a robbery had taken place the night before, and that it had been halted by no other than Storm himself.

So. Virgil was Storm. Which, by taking the most logical leap, meant Logan was no other than Logic. Cool cool cool. No doubt no doubt no doubt.

… There was no way Roman could sit back and watch, was it?

And so, Prince stepped into the light, flames dancing on his fingertips and on the blade of his katana -a gift from Janus, who had reacted to Roman's sheepish smile with an eyebrow raise- and a bright red sash crossing his chest.

Logan and the others had been rather welcoming to the new superhero amongst their group, if not a little skeptical about his motives -Roman could not quite tell them he was doing all of this to give them an additional layer of protection, since he knew from experience just how dangerous the superhero gig could be. They thought all he wanted was to protect the innocents like a knight in shining armor, and he just never bothered to correct them. It wasn't like that was a lie, anyway so he didn't really feel guilty about it.

… Okay, maybe he felt a little guilty about keeping his former identity a secret. So what? It wasn't like he could go to his new friends and say "Hey, remember that one dude that scared the shit out of everyone? Yeah, that was me, fun times am I right??". And besides, it wasn't like King was going to do a comeback anytime soon, if ever. Right?

Wrong. So very, very wrong.

+++

It had started as a normal night-time patrol around the outskirts of the city. Roman had been joking around with Virgil, jumping easily from rooftop to rooftop as they exchanged dry remarks and teasing nicknames with Logan and Patton watching on in amusement.

Then, suddenly, an explosion.

They'd all frozen, exchanging quick glances as a cloud of smoke started to rise into the distance. Without a word, the four had bolted, the easy atmosphere that had surrounded them up until that moment gone in an instant as they prepared themselves to deal with whatever was expecting them.

They reached the plaza in a few minutes, immediately setting out to assess the damage. Strangely enough, there didn't seem to be much out of order -there were no civilians around, the few that had been around at that time of the night having been probably startled away by the explosion -which had probably gone off at the center of the square, judging by the debris and fairly-sized hole. Though the cause of it didn't seem to be anywhere to be found.

At least, until an amused chuckle resounded from behind the four.

They turned around, ready for a fight, only to be met with a grinning Nautilus.

"Oh, how nice of you guys to drop in!" the hero chirped, his grin only widening even more -Roman did not like the crazy glint in the other's eyes, his hand moving to hover a little closer to the hilt of his sword as a bad feeling started to pool in the pit of his stomach.

"Hello, Nautilus!" Patton greeted, his smile now a little tense around the edges -Roman couldn't help but feel glad he wasn't alone in his distrust, not missing the way Logan and Virgil also seemed to be a little more on guard.

It wasn't like Nautilus was a villain or anything, at least not for the public opinion. He meant well, Roman knew that, but the way he viewed the world -black and white, good vs evil with no space for anything else in-between those extremes- was something Roman just couldn't trust, knowing all too well how such a way of thinking could very easily skew someone's morals way too close to ruthlessness and self-justified cruelty.

So yeah, Nautilus might have been a hero, but Roman wouldn't trust him with the life of the most innocent of kittens.

"Nautilus, do you know the cause of that explosion?" Logan spoke up, his expression unreadable.

"Oh, that was me, nothing to worry your pretty brain about my dear Logic," Nautilus responded, waving the concern away with way too much nonchalance for Roman's liking. "I was just taking care of some little pests, nothing to worry about."

"By making the fucking square blow up?" Virgil asked, scoffing.

The other simply shrugged, once again dismissing the remark. "Sometimes you gotta do some harsh things to get rid of a problem, don't you agree?"

Oh, Roman did not like that smile one bit.

"What do you mean?" he asked, forcing himself to keep his voice neutral as his grip on his sword tightened.

Still smiling, Nautilus snapped his fingers, a water tendril appearing from behind him. And in its grasp, a familiar figure uselessly struggled for freedom, brown eyes glaring daggers at the hero's back. Faintly, Roman could easily picture the snarl currently adorning the Puppeteer's lips.

Lips he could not see, because Janus' mouth was currently being covered by a muzzle.

"Pretty cool right?" Nautilus grinned, stepping onto another tendril to let himself be carried at Janus' level. "A friend of mine made it, perfect to stop our local charmer from using his nifty powers."

Ignoring the way the other heroes were staring at him in various stages of horror, he grabbed Janus' chin, tugging his face forward until they were barely inches apart.

"Not so cocky without that silver tongue of yours, uh?" he purred, before pushing him back. "It's high time you face the consequences of your evil doings, you slimy snake."

But the Puppeteer's eyes were no longer glaring at Nautilus. No, they were trained on Roman's form, on his clenched fists and the way his eyes kept flashing a familiar golden color.

"Well, look who's gone and fucked up!" a voice chirped from above, attracting everyone's attention to the top of one of the surrounding buildings. The Duke gave the heroes a toothy grin and waved, legs swinging into the air with his signature morning star resting idly on his shoulder.

"Ah, the Duke," Nautilus hummed, crossing his arms with a cocky smirk, "I was wondering when you'd show up. Are you here to rescue your dear teammate? Please, do try, I'd love to bring down two villains in one day."

For the surprise of almost the entire square, the Duke let out a hearty laugh, throwing his head back as his whole body shook with the force of his cackles.

"Oh, please! As if I'll need to do literally anything," he said, amusement lacing every word. "This is your funeral, dude. You really angered the wrong royal."

Nautilus frowned, opening his mouth to reply -probably to ask what in the world the other was talking about- but all that left his lips was a startled yelp, fighting to keep himself steady as the earth started to rumble and shake beneath his feet. Because of the sudden distraction, all the tendrils of water broke off, included the one holding the Puppeteer. Without missing a beat, Remus jumped down and grabbed Janus before he could pummel the ground, holding him bridal style while sporting his best shit-eating grin.

"Told ya!" he sing-sang, sending Nautilus a mocking glare. Not that the hero was looking at him, mind you. He was more focused on his fellow "hero" standing just a few feet to the center of the square, his eyes blazing golden.

"Duke," called Roman, his voice clear and authoritative as it carried all around the plaza, "get him out of that damned muzzle, would you?"

"Aye aye sir!!" Remus chirped, easily ripping the piece of metal away. "Do you think you could leave a few bones intact for me to break? I wanna have some fun too!"

"Sorry, Duke-" the other chuckled, the sound sounding almost haunting to everyone else's ears- "but I don't know if I’ll have enough self-control left to do that."

A circle of golden light appeared at Roman's feet, rising up in the air and enveloping his body as it went. And then it was gone as suddenly as it had appeared, leaving behind a vision no one had ever thought they'd see again.

Bright, golden eyes. Hair as dark as the night. The uniform of a royal, a burgundy sash crossing his chest from shoulder to hip. In his hand, a familiar sword glinted under the artificial light of the street lamps, the hilt the same golden as its owner's irises.

The Prince was gone, lost in a circle of golden light. And at his place stood a very angry-looking King.

"That- that can't be!" Nautilus exclaimed, taking a step back. "You're gone, you can't be here!"

"Can't I?" The King -Roman, the King was Roman- asked, cocking his head to the side. "Who are you to tell me where I can and cannot be, Nautilus?"

"I'm a hero!!" the other snapped, his words laced with the desperation of a man who is standing face to face with his impending doom. "I'm a hero, you rotten king, and I after tonight I will be remembered as the one who wiped you and your villainous reign out of this city!"

Roman hummed, looking absolutely unimpressed as he calmly inspected his sword.

"You call yourself the hero… and yet, you are the one using downright torture-like methods to try and squash down those who don't fit your narrow view of good. All the Duke and I did was rescue our companion form your grasp. So tell me, Nautilus -are you really sure I'm the one you should call "villain" here?"

The hero growled at those words, eyes flashing in barely contained rage as tendrils after tendrils of water rose up behind him. "By the time I'm done with you, you'll be begging for forgiveness at my feet."

"Oh honey," the King drawled, lips stretching into a feral grin, "at the end of this, I won't be the one begging for their life."

And off they went, crashing into each other in a whirlwind of water and metal.

Taken as they were with each other, the two supers barely spared a glance to the huddle of five people looking on from the side of the square.

"What the fuck." Storm whispered, staring shell-shocked at the scene in front of him. "What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck-"

"I know, right?" the Duke exclaimed, completely ignoring the hero's obvious growing panic.

"Duke, play nice," the Puppeteer drawled, with the heat of someone who had had to deal with the other's antics for way too long to really care anymore.

"Storm, please take some deep breaths for me," Logic said, stepping into Virgil's line of sight. "Do you remember your breathing techniques, yes?"

Storm nodded, visibly trying to get his breathing under control to do just that. Heart, obviously worried, moved to sit beside him, resting one hand on his shoulder to tap a regular rhythm there.

Virgil looked up at him with a small, grateful smile, raising his own hand to cover Patton's before closing his eyes to focus on his breathing.

Once it was clear Storm's panic wasn't going to advance any further and risk affecting his powers, Janus let his eyes wander towards Logic's standing figure, the hero's gaze fixed on the ongoing fight.

"You don't seem too fazed with the revelation," the Puppeteer pointed out, arching an eyebrow. "I mean, it's not every day you find out your teammate is actually the very ex-vigilante that used to terrorize the city."

"If I remember correctly, the people targeted by the King's actions were almost all corrupt politicians and crooked cops," Logic pointed out, turning his head to look at the vigilante. "And besides, I already had my suspicions."

Janus couldn't help but let out an amused chuckle. "What was it that tipped you off?"

"Honestly, I started growing suspicious during the Prince's first day on the field," the hero shrugged, pushing his holographic glasses up his nose. "He looked way too familiar with fights involving supers to be a newbie. Add in the pseudo he chose, plus the somewhat similar outfit… once the doubts started creeping in, it was relatively easy to connect the dots."

"Roman," the Puppeteer piped up, "I know you guys know him outside of the mask, so we can use his name -all the royal pseudonyms can get real old real fast."

Logic gave the vigilante a long look before nodding, letting out a soft sigh. "I suppose that makes sense, since you all were allies prior to the King's disappearance. I suppose you won't be sharing the reason of that, by the way?"

Janus shook his head. "It isn't my story to tell -I'm a keeper of many secrets, Logic, and I'm not about to go divulge them without a valid reason to. If he wants to tell you, he will. In his own time."

"Normally, I would point out that we cannot be sure that Roman will even be able to tell us, since he's currently going against one of the heroes with most raw power," Logan pointed out, "but I have heard enough stories about the King's power to be fairly optimist about his odds in this fight."

Janus chuckled, nodding in agreement.

"Case in point-" he said, gesturing back towards the square- "it looks like the winner has just become clear."

Just as he finished speaking, Nautilus came skidding on the pavement towards them, bruises and cuts covering his whole body as he struggled to get up again.

"Told you I wouldn't be the one praying for mercy on my knees, hero," the King drawled, his uniform looking barely crumpled by the fight.

"I will never bow to you, villain," Nautilus growled, fighting to keep himself upright.

Roman arched an eyebrow, an infuriatingly amused smirk tugging at his lips. "Are you sure about that? because you look just about to fall over."

"You may have defeated me, but soon the entire world will know the truth!" the hero shot back. "Their beloved Prince, hiding such a rotten secret… how do you think they will react? Every hero will not rest until you and your companions are locked shut behind bars. Your time is coming to an end, King, and I'll make sure to save myself a front-row seat for the day you'll finally be kicked down from your throne of evil."

"A very poetic imagery, I'm sure," the Puppeteer drawled from behind them, gathering everyone's attention on himself, "though I'm afraid you won't be able to reveal jack shit, you pompous asshole."

Nautilus frowned in confusion until he felt a slight tugging at his hand. Eyes widening, he snapped his head down, eyes zeroing on the yellow string wrapped loosely around his wrist.

"Sleep now, and forget," Janus ordered, eyes flashing bright yellow, and down Nautilus went, knocked out cold.

Silence fell, only interrupted by the faint sounds of sirens approaching from afar. After a few seconds, Heart went to open his mouth, hand outstretched towards the King's back, only for the vigilante to suddenly bolt without a single word and disappear into the night.

Janus and Remus exchanged a look, obviously debating something between themselves without using any words.

"Go," Logic called, catching their attention. "We won't tell, we promise."

The two vigilantes looked at the trio, watching as both Storm and Heart nodded in agreement. Then they smiled, saluted, and took off.

"Do you think Ro will come back?" Heart asked worriedly, eyes traveling from the direction the three had taken to the quickly-approaching blue and red lights in the distance.

"He better, or I'll go and find him myself," Storm muttered darkly, biting at his thumb.

"Only time will tell, there is no use in worrying about that now," Logic sighed, just as the first police car drove into the square. "For now, we better come up with a believable story. They'll want to know what exactly caused the square to blow up in the first place."

"Why lie?" Heart asked, giving his friend a small smile, "after all, Nautilus was the one who did it, wasn't he?"

Logic smirked lightly, nodding. " I suppose that is true."

"You know, sometimes I forget just how much of a little shit you can be," Storm commented, tone laced with amusement. "Then you go and pull things like this, and I get reminded all over again."

"Kiddo, language!" Heart gave an exaggerated gasped, eyes twinkling in mischief. "I just don't like lying, you know that."

Logic watched as the two snickering heroes approached the police, shaking his head with a small smile. Tonight might have raised quite a few questions, but he had no doubt the answers would come, eventually.

All in due time, he supposed.

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#sanders sides #superhero au #roman sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #heroes of our time #hoot #anon asks #maxisanswering #bad things happen bingo #ts fanfiction #sanders sides fanfiction #maxiswriting

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modmamono · 4 years

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Celebrating the dumbest/silliest Robot Masters in each mainline Mega Man Game & Bass.

Not every robot needs to be badass to be worth something. I feel this is an attitude people have when a certain robot isn’t their cup of tea.

Q(?): How dare the goofy looking Toad Man not be as awesome as Quick Man? Toad Man can’t even attack you he just hops into when you shooting at him.

A: Because Toad Man has the unique distinction of having an attack you can’t dodge. You try dodging acid rain. That’s why he’s easy.

I’m not here to crack on the Quick Men of the world and hold up the Toad Men. I just wanna revel in the absolute silliness of Mega Man. Where a Toad Man can exist or Quick Man can have a hilarious in-universe oversight his design.

Because I like my Mega Man silly, and I know when Mega Man knows it’s silly.

Here are my rules:

Only Robot Masters, they have to be selectable on the menu (No Mega Man Killers, Star Droids, Quint, Bass, Wily Wars Bots, Fake Man (sadly), the Dark Men (sadly), Mooks, Duo, Wily Castle bosses, NO DOC ROBOTS, etc.)

I’m not just judging them on their designs or concept. That’s low hanging fruit. Also everyone does that.

I’m also judging them on info we get on based on their game appearances or supplemental material, such as their functions and likes and dislikes.

No Archie or Megamix to deduct/add dumb/silly points from them. (Forgive me if I do accidentally use their tidbits.)

One Robot Master per game, because if I didn’t adhere to this rule and the one above all the MM5 bots would win. (Also this means that Tengu and Astro Man get two chances.)

And that should be it:

READY?

Mega Man 1′s Silliest Robot Master is:

Cut Man!

This was a tough call honestly, Cut Man only really one won by default. Because in-universe, all the MM1 Robots all have their practical use. They’re made for a reason. Bomb and Guts Man are construction bots, Elec Man manages a power plant. Cut Man is a lumber robot.

But it is a little silly he has the scissors on his head. He’s how supposed to accurately cut down trees? It has no handle to cut with and it’s a boomerang. The rest are all much more straight forward with their powers.

Honorable Mention(s):

Roll (She’s a Robot Master too, and she’s selectable in Marvel vs. Capcom 2 if not the first game, loopholes babey!). She’s silly because of her occasional stint as a joke character.

Time Man. He’s just has has a case of the odd one out. All of the non-Rock and Roll Robot Masters in the first game have and immediate function in society, even Oil Man has that. But Time Man not so much, he doesn’t have much of a use. And granted that’s part of his character. If Powered-Up didn’t have story and dialogue he might’ve taken Cut Man’s spot as the silliest due to being the odd one out.

Mega Man 2′s Silliest Robot Master is:

Bubble Man!

Look... Bubble Man is the easiest target. I didn’t want it to be him. But he’s not as dumb as you may think. I’ll explain in a bit.

I wanna say that I like none the MM2 Robots. They’re all just made to be killing machines. They’re all made with one purpose and that’s to destroy Mega Man. And that’s boring.

Regardless, Bubble Man is an underwater combat robot. That may seem useless against Mega Man. But you gotta remember that Rock is the ultimate goody-two shoes. Plop a Robot Master in an area, order him to attack said area and Mega Man’s on it to stop him. Effectively luring the Blue Bomber to the boss’ home field advantages. And Bubble Man is no different.

Explaining it like that it seems to me that Wily tried viarity in his revenge plan. As Bubble Man makes the water his home his Brothers make their homes in the sky, the forest, the lava sewers, etc.

Really, Bubble Man gets a bad wrap.

Also he gets points because (of what might be Megamix flavor text that) Wily kept laughing at his inability to walk on land. Wily noticed this, laughed at that can he only could jump, and didn’t fix him.

Ergo; Wily, IN HIS REVENGE PLAN!, laughed so hard he didn’t make Bubble Man the best he could be to kill Mega Man.

Honorable Mention(s):

Wood Man and Heat Man (and to a lesser extent Air Man). To me they’re on the same level as Bubble Man, Bubble Man just edges them out by a bit. They’re revenge murder bots, and Wily made one out of wood and the other look like a lighter. Pictured here, man with a sense of humor (or someone who does rush jobs):

Quick Man, because this tidbit may or may not come from Megamix so I couldn’t qualify him, because it may’ve made Quick Man my pick. For you see... Quick Man runs faster then his eyes can process. Meaning he runs against walls. As you can see in Mega Man 2 itself. I love this, Quick Man was supposed to be the rival character to Mega Man, but he might as well be nearsighted.

Mega Man 3′s Silliest Robot Master is:

Gemini Man! !nɒM inimǝӘ

Gemini Man is a narcissist. He likes to check himself out in the mirror. Heck, he doesn’t need to check himself out in the mirror. His power is that he has a holographic clone to do just that. He’s a handsome robot if he did say so himself.

He’s afraid of snakes. That’s all.

I do wanna say, dumbest/silliest doesn’t mean worst. Gemini Man is my favorite of the Mega Man 3. Also what is his function? I imagine Wily and Light didn’t make him for no reason.

Honorable Mention(s):

Top Man, he’s the go-to dumb pick (along with Hard Man). And yes, there’s the question why he’s a top (my guess it was just the two Doctors having fun). But he does have a stated function, he searches for energy. Unlike Gemini Man who seems to be made to look at himself in the mirror.

Magnet Man. He’s the perfect blend of awesome and silly. Mega Man X wishes it could balance it’s tone like that.

Hard Man. This is a token pick.

Mega Man 4′s Silliest Robot Master is:

ACTUALLY, JUST KIDDING IT’S TIE BETWEEN ALL OF Dr. COSSACK’S ROBOT MASTERS!

I can’t pick. Because similarly to Mega Man 1, they were all made with a practical use in mind, and they’re all plausible, leaving only their appearances to judge.

Though out of all these practical bots. Bright Man might not get much use.

Bright Man is designed to explore dark areas, but like... How often does he get to do that? That’s not something I’d give sentience.

There’s also the matter of Bright Man being sorta redundant. Pharaoh Man is already made to explore dark areas, and has the skills to brace any danger. Maybe they work together? Iunno...

If you want, put Bright Man here, this is not a uselessness highlight. Though there’s still the matter he’s a light bulb. That’s plenty silly. Doesn’t change the fact he’ll kick your butt though.

So yeah, I guess Bright Man takes it. Also his Japanese Mega Man & Bass bio his good point is listed as an idea man.

Honorable Mention(s):

NOT Dust Man. If you can/can’t take a sentient vacuum seriously in a world where robots just gratuitously get sentience, that’s your problem.

Mega Man 5′s Silliest Robot Master is:

Stone Man!

Jumps.

Falls apart.

Recollects himself.

Repeat.

I could go into depth. But I won’t.

Please read Mega Man Megamix and it’s sequel Gigamix. No reason why.

Honorable Mention(s):

Wave Man. He’s more or less Bubble Man again. Except he’s more or a terrorism bot then a murder bot. Yes, there is a difference.

Gyro Man, he’s result for Wily’s budget running low. He wasn’t supposed to be a propeller robot. But he ended up as one.

Star Man. This is because of Megamix and Gigamix. But if his Mega Man & Bass bio is anything to go by, he has his Manga counterpart’s personality and I am so on board.

Charge Man. Choo Choo! He’s a steam locomotive, he runs partially on coal, an outdated fuel source. Wily made him to starve basically. Also he’s a train. I can’t hate that.

Crystal Man, he’s is my favorite of this bunch. This guy was made to make Wily money. Crystal Man makes fake crystals, and those fake crystals get sold. If not for that fact, I wouldn’t care.

Mega Man 6′s Silliest Robot Master is:

Flame Man!

Though seriously, another tough call. All of the MM6 Robots are silly, also made for useful purposes (except Tomahawk Man), I couldn’t pick one over the others. This one came down to the Mega Man & Bass bios.

Flame Man’s likes in Japan: Maintaining his mustache

Honorable Mention(s):

Yamato Man’s Japanese Bad Point: Bad with money

Mega Man 7′s Silliest Robot Master is:

No Contest!

Dude, I love Spring Man, no matter how dumb he is. And what really gets me is that some of Mega Man 7′s robots were stolen by Wily (like Freeze and Shade Man), but others were made by him (Slash and Turbo Man). Guess under which category Spring Man falls?

Yep, Wily made this guy himself.

I love this silly concept. I don’t what to tell you. His design may seem impractical, so of course he’s as much a threat as all the other Robot Masters are in this game with the exception of Slash Man. It’s beautiful. They should put him in the robot museum.

Honorable Mention(s):

Junk Man. See Crystal Man’s honorable mention, only with junk and recycling.

Turbo Man. Wily made a Transformer out of an old car because he didn’t have enough parts lying about.

Mega Man 8′s DUMBEST Robot Master is:

Sword Man!

I both like and hate Sword Man. The story behind him is that Wily stole a sword and made Sword Man to be literally attached to that sword.

That sword was too heavy so Wily went the extra mile in making a SWORD BASED ROBOT and gave his torso anti-gravity system. In gameplay that means that he can split his body in two.

Also he’s got the element of fire, he’s the game’s fire robot.

This is needless detail for a robot that just needed to be another Knight Man. Just with a sword. He’s overdesigned and I can’t decide if I like it or not.

Honorable Mention(s):

If not for Sword Man, Search Man would be my pick, here why: He’s got a similar thing going on as Sword Man. He’s a bit over designed, but I like it. Wily thought if he gave Search Man two heads he’d be super smart! But Search Man’s programmed with only has one personality. 2 Heads, 1 Mind. And he can only use one head at the time!

Mega Man & Bass′ Silliest Robot Master is:

Like... D-Do I need to say it? It has to be Pirate Man.

I got nothing to say about him other that I like him. I don’t like Mega Man & Bass much, but I love its Robot Masters. Every single one of them that aren’t Tengu, Cold Man, and Ground Man.

Okay, maybe I do have something to say about Pirate Man, he’s the silliest by default. Sure, Magic Man might look sillier, but Magic Man isn’t a Robot designed to steal. He’s supposed to entertain.

Overall, & Bass is an odd duck, there isn’t too much silly here. Because:

Dynamo Man is a children's tour guide too dangerous to be around for humans.

Magic Man joined the bad guys so he can get attention (Three Laws, his well-defined robotic butt).

Pirate Man’s a literal pirate (Three Laws, his plain robotic butt).

And Burner Man’s a maniac made to destroys forests! WHO DOES THAT!? And that’s not all, he’s told that if he doesn’t burn down a forest everyday, a bomb inside him will explode! THERE’S NO BOMB!!

There isn’t much to the others. But that’s all the screwed up you need.

Rockman & Forte: Mirai Kara no Chōsensha′s Silliest Robot Master is:

Take your pick!

A bullet based robot from an alternate future.

An air conditioner based robot from an alternate future.

A grill based robot from an alternate future.

A Japanese-style monk based robot from an alternate future.

A compass based robot from an alternate future. (Not pictured)

Or two clock based robots from an alternate future.

I can’t be mad at any of these, even if they seem like parodies of what a Robot Master should look like. You can say the same of MM5, 6, and 8.

Mega Man 9′s SeSilliest Robot Master is:

Splash Man!

Mega Man 9 has a similar problem I have with some other games. They all got a purpose in-story even if we don’t really get to see it. 9′s are useful and Splash Woman’s coast guard function is a good one.

I’m here to sadly do a hack writer-y: “Hurrr duurrrr. Sure is silly of them to only have a female Robot Master now!”

Also, people, she’s not the first female Robot Master, Roll is. Plum too if you wanna count her. It’s something they should do more though. Hornet Man was almost Honey Woman or something.

I’m not opposed to it.

Also this robot is allergic to robo-bees. That’s the real reason she’s chosen.

Honorable Mention(s):

Shout-out to the disqualified Fake Man. Nobody ever talks about Fake Man:

Don’t worry, he’s not a real Cop.

Mega Man 10′s Silliest Robot Master is:

Nitro Man!

People have stunt doubles. So why not their vehicles too, right? I love this guy.

I’ve avoided doing this, but I’m gonna quote the Mega Man Wikia here:

“Before contracting Roboenza, Nitro Man was a stunt robot who has appeared in many movies and TV shows. He is fairly bold and would be willing to do whatever stunts he is asked, regardless of the risks and the negative outcomes. Nitro Man is also the president of a robot stunt club, which has sixty members.”

How can you not love that? Plus he’s Transformer!

Protip: his weapon, the Wheel Cutter, may seem like a meh weapon. But hold the shoot button down and hug a wall.

Honorable Mention(s):

Pump Man: he’s an old school pump, it’s hard to beat that.

Strike Man gets dumb points for being sentient, I like him, but he shouldn’t have been a sentient robot.

Sheep Man people hated this guy, now people love him except for his weapon. I always liked him. I wonder why the hate though? Because he’s the first main line animal based Robot Master? Maybe? It was gonna happen eventually. Also he gets disillusioned with everything he does very quickly, he’s my spirit animal.

Mega Man 11′s Silliest Robot Master is:

Tundra Man!

This guy got bored of his job so he modified himself to be and look like an ice-skater. And he’s magnificent, gives Powered Up Elec Man a run for his money in flamboyancy.

I don’t have anything to add. Just look at him, his looks are his substance.

Honorable Mention(s):

Bounce Man, just Bounce Man, here’s another Mega Man Wikia quoting: “[Bounce Man] was originally developed as a crash test robot, but his stretching and bouncing abilities led him to become a fitness instructor at an indoor athletic center/amusement park called Boing-Boing Park, and his colorful body and friendly appearance made him a big hit with kids and adults alike. Despite being repurposed for combat by Dr. Wily and equipped with a Speed Gear, after which he took over Boing-Boing Park, Bounce Man is still the same large, cheerful, childlike robot he always was, still viewing everything as one big game.”

AND THAT’S ALL!

Thank you for putting up with this post if you got this far.

These are all my opinion, none of this is fact. And certainly not calling any of them bad, I’m not decrying them.

I just grew up on Top 10 videos where Mega Man, even the innocent Classic series was serious business. Something I was reminded of earlier today.

I get that Mega Man was gone for a while and everyone was in memorial mode(, and admittedly I forgot I was a fan of this series during the time Mighty No. 9 seemed like the savior), absolutely idolizing everything Mega Man.

But even before all of that Mega Man was something of a sacred cow, on the internet (mostly Mega Man 2). And it was all so serious business to a lot of people, and I didn’t like it was so serious business. From both people who know the lore and who don’t.

I just kinda wanted to express that I like that Mega Man Classic is silly and that’s okay. And it’s also okay to realize that every Mega Man game is silly on the surface of it, whether the games realize it or not. (I will say some games are better at pulling it off.)

I have no real point that’s not scatterbrained. I sacrificed sleep for this.

#mega man #mega man 1 #mega man 2 #mega man 3 #mega man 4 #mega man 5 #mega man 6 #mega man 7 #mega man 8 #mega man & bass #rockman & forte #mega man 9 #mega man 10 #mega man 11 #mega man classic

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snowfall-fanfictions · 4 years

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When All Is Lost, All Is Found Ch.1- The Sailor

Ao3 Link

FFN Link

No one was to set foot on the island, that was the decree from King Runeard. And for over 40 years, that decree was followed. Now, when a stranded sailor washes up on Arendelle's shores, claiming he survived the Island, that decree is about to be broken.

Sequel to "Beware the Frozen Heart"

I’m BACK BABEY!!!!!

The waters of Corona Bay glistened under the full moon. Few people were still out and about at this ungodly hour: drunkards stumbling out of pubs to return to their wives, women of the evening strutting about offering their services, and a few homeless children scurrying the empty streets like the rats they slept with. Down by the docks, several shady and hooded figures darted from shadow to shadow, avoiding the numerous guard patrols along the way. One by one, they slid silently into one of the warehouses on the north side. Closing the door behind them, they each removed their hoods and breathed a sigh of relief. One of the men, a thin bald man with cold silver eyes, walked forward to inspect the large crates before him while a still hooded man walked up beside him.

“You two,” he called out, pointing to two men, “get these things open!” The men walked forward as they brandished crowbars. With a loud *clunk*, the two men sank their crowbars in between the wood covering and yanked with all of their might, producing a loud squeaking sound as the nails were pulled out of the wood.

“This’d better be worth it,” he mumbled to the man beside him.

“Yesss, much worth here,” the hooded figure said in a thick Eastern European accent, “I’ve been watching this place for weeks, these crates are full of Chinese jade. Worth millions.”

“Let’s just hope you're right…”

As he finished talking, the crate opened with the loud clattering of wood on stone. All of the men gathered around the opening, ready to collect the precious materials inside, only to be surprised when the crate was empty. Frustrated murmurs filled the warehouse.

“What the-!?” The bald man shouted, turning to the hooded figure, “you said it’d be here!”

His anger was cut short by the sound of guns cocking from behind the crate. Several guards filed out to meet the group with pistols raised. One of them, a young man with a thick red hair and mustache, approached the bald man with a fearful scowl.

“Johann Üstag,” he announced, raising his pistol to his chest, “you’re under arrest in the name of Arendelle and Corona!”

“What?! But how?!”

“Me, you old dumbass!” The hooded figure shouted, dropping his accent. He pulled his hood back to reveal his gaunt face, jet black hair, and scar traveling down the left side of his face. His brown eyes met the man’s silver ones.

“ERYN?!”

“Hello, Johann,” Eryn sneered, “miss me?”

“I-I thought you were in Istanbul, looking for-”

“- for Liam? He’s long gone, I’m afraid. Leapt off the Hagia Sophia rather than come quietly.”

Johann’s body shook at Eryn’s words, “You bastard! Turning on your own friends like this!”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t turn on me, Johann! I still remember when you ruined damn near a month of prep with a bomb.”

“That was Alius, and from what I’ve heard you already got him back.”

“Your right, I did,” Eryn pulled out a revolver from his cloak and aimed it at Johann’s head, “but you didn’t do shit to stop him, so I’m considering this ‘tying up loose ends.’ Now, hands where I can see them, will you?”

Johann glared at him as he raised his hands.

“He’s all yours, Lenny,” Eryn said. Linaeus walked up to Johann and slapped a pair of shackles around the old man’s wrists. One by one, the guards moved through the mob of criminals, restraining them in a similar fashion. Eryn and Linaeus walked through the crowd until they passed through the doors of the warehouse.

“Well,” Linaeus said, “that should be the last of them, right Eryn?”

“Yep,” Eryn sighed, “He’s all that was left.”

“Then why so grim looking? You should be glad this is over now.”

“I still think that I could’ve taken care of it mys-”

Eryn’s sentence was interrupted by a series of rough, dry coughs. He brought his hand up to his face as he tried to force whatever was in his lungs out. Linaeus leaped as Eryn’s coughing fit started up.

“Eryn, are you alright?!” Linaeus said startled.

“I-I’m fine,” Eryn panted as he recomposed himself, “nothing to worry about.”

“Those coughs have been plaguing you for the last two years! There has to be something wrong.”

“It’s. Nothing. Lenny. We need to focus on the job at hand and get these bastards back to Arendelle.”

“Eryn…”

“Trust me, Lenny,” Eryn placed his hand on Linaeus’s shoulder, giving him a half smile, “I’m fine.” Linaeus gave Eryn a worried expression, “Can you at least promise me you’ll get it checked out when we get back?”

“Fine. Now, shall we get going?”

“I have to sort this out with Captain Fitzherbert first. These criminals are also Corona’s problem.”

“Rrright…” Eryn rolled his eyes. He’d grown a rather serious distaste for the husband of the Princess of Corona. At times, the man gave off this air of arrogance and romanticism, something that grated Eryn’s nerves only slightly. It was when Linaeus introduced him to Captain Fitzherbert that their relationship soured.

“I still don’t understand how you two don’t get along. You two are almost identical.”

“We would’ve gotten along if someone didn’t mention the whole ‘pledged my life to an ancient evil to be an assassin’ bit.”

Linaeus cringed at Eryn’s retort, “Look, I said I was sorry.” “It was the first thing you said when introducing m-” a rapid series of coughs interrupted Eryn as he doubled over.

“Why don’t you just… head back to the ship. I’ll talk with Eugune myself.”

“F-fine,” Eryn sputtered, regaining his composure. He hobbled past Linaeus, trying to stifle any remaining coughs.

Linaeus did nothing but shake his head as he watched Eryn slowly return to the ship. Ever since Skyne’s death, Eryn had been acting… strange. When he wasn’t chasing down a lead on one of his former colleagues, he was distancing himself from everyone. He would eat by himself, deliberately avoid the guards assigned to him, and, strangest of all, would take long lonely walks in the dead of night. Any attempt to find out what was wrong was met with a grumbled “nothing” followed by a mild to severe coughing fit. Linaeus couldn’t help but feel worried for his old friend. He let out a sigh, turning back to the warehouse to discuss the transfer of prisoners with Captain Fitzherbert.

He was concerned for Eryn, but Arendelle always had to come first.

XXXXXX

Eryn slumped against the door to his cabin before letting out another coughing fit. It felt as if he gargled seawater and chased it down with wood shavings. All he wanted to do at this point was rip his throat out and toss it into the ocean. Two godforsaken years had these coughs been plaguing him. Eryn lost count of how many sleepless nights he endured, jolted awake by the intrusion in his throat and lungs. As the coughing passed, he let out an exasperated groan. In a way, he felt like this was some kind of cosmic punishment for thinking he could face Skyne alone. Linaeus told him the whole ordeal a few days after apprehending Markus, how Skyne struck him down and how the queen managed to intervene and kill the monster. The one chance he had to prove himself and he blew it.

You really are an ass, aren’t you? He thought to himself, the whole world could’ve ended because of you, and you’re sitting here pissed because you didn’t get the fame for saving it. How the hell did you convince Elsa to spare you…

Eryn let loose a loud sigh. In his mind, Elsa was being far too kind to him. The two of them met all because of a few sacks of gold and the request of her head on a silver platter. Secretly, he’d been dreading the day the final member of the old gang was in chains. That meant he’d have to return to Arendelle and face her again. Eryn wasn’t sure what would await him upon the delivery of Johann. He fully expected to be thrown in the dungeons once again, or even put on the gallows immediately.

Mustering the little strength he had gathered in the past few minutes, Eryn lifted himself off of the floor and fumbled over to his hammock. Perhaps some sleep would clear his mind and conscience. He flopped onto the hammock as he let his eyelids go heavy before drifting to sleep…

He was back on the North Mountain, his hands covered in blood. Elsa laid before him, her throat slit and her eyes still and glassy. Anna sobbed loudly as she cradled her elder sister in her arms. Linaeus approached him with his sword drawn, pointing it towards Eryn.

“ERYN!” Linaeus shouted, “WHY?!”

Before he had a chance to respond, an inky black tentacle pierced Linaeus’s chest. Eryn could feel the blood splatter onto his face as his friend slumped to the floor with a loud gurgling noise. Looking up, Eryn saw… him. The crimson eyes that pierced his soul. The inky black skin that blotted out the night sky behind him. The serpentine head, a maniacal grin overtaking it. The antlers, now stained with blood. The canine-like legs sinking into the snow. The wretched smell of death and decay. Skyne lifted Anna into the air, who was begging to stay with her sister. In an instant, Anna was enveloped in an orb of darkness. All Eryn could hear was the shrill shrieking of the princess followed by the sound of crunching bones. Skyne let out a wicked chortle as he lifted Eryn off of the ground and brought him to face level.

Come now, Odrikson, the monster growled, Isn’t this what you wanted?

“N-no!” Eryn gasped, clawing at the beast’s grasp, “I want out!”

I’m afraid that’s no longer an option. You’ve signed away your freedom the second you swore allegiance to me!

“Let. Me. GO!” Eryn’s heart raced as he felt Skyne tighten his grip around him.

T̷̬̍H̷̺̓Ë̵͓́R̵̥̓È̵̬'̵̩͐S̸͖̍ ̵̜͐N̵̤͆O̸̦͘ ̷͔͝T̶̻͗U̷͛͜Ř̵͈N̸͈̎I̷͈͒N̶̦̋G̷͗ͅ ̶̢͐B̷̭͐A̵̯̽C̶̭̏K̴͚͊ ̶͇͒N̶̤͌Ő̴͓W̶̝͐!̷̘̑

Skyne’s grip became tighter and tighter. Eryn struggled to free himself, only enticing the spirit to squeeze harder until he could hear his bones crack under the immense pressure…

“Eryn! Wake up!”

Eryn bolted upright in his bed, panting as if he ran a marathon. A sheen of sweat covered his forehead as his heart raced. Eryn snapped his head to the left, only to be greeted by a concerned Linaeus kneeling by his bedside.

“L-Lenny!” Eryn gasped, “Wh-what happened?”

“What happened?” Linaeus gawked, “I overheard you shouting in your sleep, that’s what happened. Something about ‘wanting out.’”

Eryn buried his face in his hand as his panting subsided. It was just a nightmare, he thought, Everyone is-

As soon as his breathing stabilized, Eryn was greeted by another bout of coughing. This time felt much harder and more fierce than any before. It felt as if his throat was on fire.

“Here, drink some of this,” Linaeus said as he handed Eryn a small flask. Without hesitation, Eryn grabbed the drink and eagerly gulped it down. As he drank, he could feel Linaeus’s gaze boring a hole into him.

“Th-thank you,” Eryn said, returning the flask to Linaeus. The general’s look of concern didn’t change as he took the container from Eryn’s hand.

“You know what I’m going to ask, right?” Linaeus asked.

“It was nothing. Don’t worry about it.” Eryn quickly responded as he attempted to get out of bed.

“You had that nightmare again, didn’t you? With… him?”

Eryn winced at Linaeus’s question. “Y-yeah…”

“Eryn, this isn’t ‘nothing.’ You’ve been having those nightmares since--” “I can deal with them myself,” Eryn snapped, “A few bad dreams haven’t hurt anyone.”

“But if it’s the same bad dream for two years? That’s not normal, Eryn.”

“We work for a woman who controls ice and snow, what do we know about ‘normal?’”

“Even Elsa’s magic can’t manipulate dreams, Eryn,” Linaeus folded his arms as he rose from the floor, “You shouldn’t be ignoring this, you know…”

Eryn flopped his head back onto his pillow. “Ugh, fine,” he groaned, “I’ll see what help I can get once we get back to Arendelle.”

“We are back in Arendelle.”

Eryn shot back up from the bed, “What?! A nonstop trip from Corona to Arendelle takes at least two days! Are you telling me that I slept the entire trip?”

“Indeed you did. Had to fight to keep the captain from tossing you overboard.”

Eryn could overhear the crew shouting and moving objects above. His heart sank as he realized that Linaeus wasn’t joking.

“Er, thanks, I guess?” Eryn let out a weak chuckle.

“Wouldn’t want to miss out on your audience with the queen, now would you?” A small smile formed on Linaeus’s face. Eryn returned the smile, but could feel his anxiety creep through his body.

“What’s got you so worried?” Linaeus chuckled, “She’s not going to bite, y’know?”

As far as you know, Eryn thought, but resisted the urge to say anything. He knew of Linaeus’s feelings towards the queen (well, everyone knew except for Elsa) so Eryn wished to avoid insulting her in front of him.

“I’ll leave you be so you can ready yourself,” Linaeus walked over to the door and swung it open before turning back to Eryn and adding, “And don’t forget about… well, you know.”

“R-right. Thanks, Lenny.”

Linaeus nodded and closed the door behind him. Eryn let out an audible gulp. This was it: the day he both awaited and dreaded. Once he left this boat, his fate was up to the queen. Might as well get this over with, he thought to himself as he got out of bed.

XXXXXX

“Wait,” Olaf said, scanning the large map of North America laid out on the desk. He stood next to Anna upon Elsa’s chair as he smoothed out the map with his twig hands. “They want to take all that land?”

“Yep,” Anna said, looking over the map, “Well, it’s a little more complicated than that. From what I’ve heard Elsa talk about, Texas wants to be a part of America but some Americans don’t want it.”

“But it’s so big! You could fit like... a hundred Arendelles in it!” Think of all the snowmen you could make in there.”

“Ehhhh, seeing how it’s mostly desert, you won’t get a lot of snowmen out there.”

“Then why take so much?”

Anna quickly rolled up the map before saying, “How about we take a break for now? I’ll go check on Elsa if you can go down to the docks to wait for Linaeus and Eryn. I promise that we’ll keep talking about this later.”

“Oooh! I can do that! I missed Derri-- I mean Eryn.” With that, Olaf hopped off the chair and scurried out of the room. Anna placed the map under her arm as she walked out with him, only to be immediately greeted by Kristoff, her fiancé, leaning against the wall in his normal fur outfit. Anna ran towards him as he caught her in a warm embrace.

“Hey,” she said against his shirt, “I missed you.”

“Hey yourself,” he replied, “How’s the current events lesson going?”

“I’m not sure how to describe slavery to a snowman,” Anna detached herself from Kristoff, “Wow, that’s an odd sentence.”

“Odder than ‘My sister can sneeze life?’”

“Okay, that’s valid. Speaking of which, have you seen Elsa?”

“Heard some of the staff say she was in the library. Not sure what she’s doing there, though.”

Anna pursed her lips. Ever since Elsa came back from the North Mountain, she started getting borderline obsessed with ancient myths and legends. Anna always found her curled up on a chair somewhere with a massive book of mythology either resting on her lap or collapsed on the floor. Anna couldn’t get any answers out of her, all she would get was an “I’m fine, Anna,” or “Don’t worry, Anna.” But that’s all she could do. She worried that her sister was falling back into her old habits. Worried that she was going to lose Elsa again. How could she do anything but worry when she didn’t have the whole story?

“Hey,” Kristoff placed a loving hand on her shoulder, “You wanna go check on her?”

Anna gave him a warm smile, “Yeah, thanks.”

The two of them made their way down the hall when Anna jerked to a stop. She knelt down and began hiking up her dress when Kristoff came and knelt beside her.

“Is your leg acting up again?” He asked as she hiked up enough of her dress to reveal her wooden prosthetic. He was still impressed as to how fast that came in after the attack. What impressed him further is that, rather than just a pegleg, it closely resembled an actual human leg and foot, even matching Anna’s creamy skin color.

“Yes,” Anna groaned, “Can you… uh… push that in?” Anna pointed to a small metal piece jutting out of where the artificial ankle was. Without hesitation, Kristoff shoved the protruding piece back into place.

“I thought this thing was ‘state of the art,’ why does it feel like it breaks every other day?” Kristoff asked, standing up while helping Anna off of the floor.

“Well, the doctors did say that I shouldn’t do too much ‘strenuous activity’ with it, but you know me, Miss Strenuous Activity herself.”

Kristoff lightly chuckled, “Heh, you’re right on that. Let’s just get to the library before that thing breaks again.”

“I’ll race ya.” Anna gave him a cheeky wink.

“I’m not sure if that leg of yours is gonna--” before Kristoff could finish his sentence, Anna flew down the corridor and off to the left. Kristoff simply sighed as he bolted down the corridor in a vain attempt to catch up to his beloved.

XXXXXX

“Alright, let’s look through this again,” Elsa told herself, dipping her quil in the inkwell. Before her on the mahogany desk laid out some parchment paper, a book that translates from Latin to English, and a worn old book she found on accident two years ago, hidden behind one of the bookshelves. She couldn’t believe her eyes when she read through the passages. An authentic skald poem, thought to be lost hundreds of years ago, about magic! After months of fruitless searching about Skyne, Ahtohallan, or even Aren the First, this writing was a godsend. What wasn’t a godsend, however, was attempting to translate the illegible writings. She’d lost track of how many nights she spent trying to decipher the ancient texts. To her left, a small piece of parchment where she wrote down some translations of the text into something more legible. Relaying her sight between the book of translations and the skald poem, Elsa diligently printed line after line onto the parchment paper, careful as to not misspell or miss any words. Once she fully translated the passage, Elsa placed the quill back into the inkwell and began to read over the passage:

A thousand years ago,

When magic roamed these lands,

Man and myth together

Lived in fair harmony

From Ahtohallan’s shores

To southern lands most far

The four masters roamed wide

Where North Wind met the sea

Elsa paused at the last phrase. She heard it before, in her mother’s lullaby about the source of all magic. Elsa absentmindedly bounced her foot as she contemplated this information. It’s a start, at least, she thought to herself before retrieving her quill and starting again. Perhaps the rest of the poem would have more informa-

“ELSA!”

Elsa jumped at the shouting of her name, encasing her quill in ice. She quickly around, her blue eyes narrowed in anger, to find Anna and Kristoff standing before her.

“Please just knock next time, Anna,” Elsa sighed as she tried prying the quill out of her hand.

“I did,” her sister replied, “you were just so busy with… whatever it is you’re doing, you just didn’t hear.” As Elsa listened to Anna’s explanation, she waved her open hand over the icy quill, vanishing the cold before setting it back into her inkwell

“Is everything alright? Is it your leg again?”

“No, no. It’s just…”

“We were a little concerned about you,” Kristoff interjected.

“There’s nothing to be concerned about. I’m perfectly— ANNA!”

Anna held Elsa’s work in her hands, reading it silently to herself. Once she was done, Anna looked up to Elsa with a look of confusion.

“Elsa, what is this?”

Elsa sighed in defeat. “I-”

Before she could explain, Elsa was interrupted by a knock on the door. Gerda meekly entered the room, giving the queen a small curtsey.

“Sorry to interrupt, your majesty, but General Torvond and Mr. Odrikson have arrived from Corona.”

“O-oh,” Elsa felt a wave of both relief and anxiety rush over her. Even two years later, she was still kicking herself for letting her guard down and allowing an assassin so close to her, let alone growing attracted to him. Ever since the day she found out the truth, Elsa swore she’d never be duped like that again. For her sake, and for Anna’s.

Elsa shook off the feeling as she regained her composure. “Good,” she said, “do they have Mr. Üstag with them?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. They’re on their way to the castle now.”

Elsa nodded, “Very well, I’ll meet them in the courtyard in a bit. Thank you, Gerda.”

As Gerda left the room, Elsa turned to face a slightly annoyed Anna, pouting disapprovingly.

“So are you going to tell us what’s with the books?” Anna asked.

“I’ll… tell you after we deal with Eryn and Linaeus.”

“Promise?”

“Super sister promise. Now, let’s head to the courtyard.” Elsa briskly walked out of the library as Anna and Kristoff exchanged worried looks.

“She’s doing it again,” Anna said.

“But she at least promised to tell you,” Kristoff replied, “that’s more than any other time.”

“But is she serious about it or is she just saying that?”

“Only one way to find out.” Kristoff gestured to the hallway as the two of them casually walked down to the courtyard.

XXXXXX

“All this for what, Eryn? To become some royal’s pet?” Johann sneered.

“Oh, shut it, you old bastard,” Eryn grunted as he shoved him through the streets. Throughout the city, people stared quizzically at the three men as they made their way towards the castle. Just a few steps ahead of them, Olaf was skipping merrily across the cobblestones prattling on about whatever was on his mind. All of them were flanked by stone faced guards, brandishing their rifles like a living set of tin soldiers. While Linaeus humored the snowman, Eryn fixated his attention on the castle looming in the distance. He knew what was to happen to Johann, a night in the dungeons before he hung, but it was his own fate Eryn wasn’t sure of. Anxiety shot through his body with every step towards the castle. Eryn shook off these feelings as he tightened his grip on the man in his grasp, who struggled with each step.

“So she really let you off after you swore to bring us all in? I knew she was a whore, but not a stupid wh-”

Eryn struck Johann in his stomach, who fell to the ground whimpering like a dog. With no hesitation, Eryn hoisted the man off the ground and brought him to eye level.

“You’re lucky I don’t have a sword on me,” he growled, “because if I did, I’d cut that tongue out of your damn head!”

Johann formed a weak smile, “Seems I’ve struck a raw nerve, eh, Ery-”

Johann was silenced by yet another strike to his stomach.

“I just got tired of hearing you speak, you-” Before Eryn could finish his insult, he was cut off by a series of sharp, dry coughs.

“And here I thought I’d be the one to die first, but judging by that cough, you just might drop before me.” Johann gave Eryn a sly grin before Eryn hooked his right hand into the old man’s face. The sudden blow forced the man onto the ground as Eryn hoisted him back onto his feet.

“Any more out of you and I’ll knock the rest of your teeth out, now move!” Eryn roared, shoving Johann towards the castle. The two of them managed to catch up with both Linaeus and Olaf as they passed through the castle gates.

”...and I said ‘you can eat as much as you want but you’ll never get enough Vitamin D,” Olaf said, “Oh! We’re here!”

Before the men stood Elsa, flanked by two emerald clad guards, her expression regal and poised. Eryn steeled himself as he shoved Johann through the courtyard. Linaeus greeted the Üqueen with a quick salute as Eryn followed behind.

“Your Majesty,” Linaeus said, “It’s good to see you again.” “You as well, Linaeus,” Elsa replied, “I assume your mission in Corona was a success?”

“I’d say it was,” Eryn chimed in, shoving Johann up to the two of them, “May I present Johann Üstag, anarchist, traitor, and would be assassin.”

“Well isn’t that pot calling the kettle black?” Johann mumbled. Eryn was half tempted to give him another blow to the stomach, but resisted the urge in front of the queen.

Elsa strode up to the man as her expression soon turned to an icy glare, “You have a lot to answer for, Mr. Üstag.”

“Well, it looks like all I have to do is say I’m sorry and all is forgiven. I mean, that’s what you did with the mastermind behind all this.” “He’s done more than enough to repay his debt. Unlike you, who shows no remorse.”

“Why would I show remorse for a loathsome whore like y-”

Eryn quickly interrupted his sentence with a jab to the man’s jaw.

“Christ, could any of you come up with anything original?” Eryn groaned, “I’ve heard more ‘whore’ from you lot than a brothel can carry. Er- pardon the analogy, your majesty.”

Elsa waved her hand, “It’s fine, Eryn.” She then turned to Linaeus, “Escort Mr. Üstag to the dungeons. We’ll arrange for his execution later.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Linaeus said as he took Johann from Eryn and dragged him through the castle doors. Eryn attempted to follow his friend, but was immediately stopped by the queen.

“I would like to speak to you personally, Mr. Odrikson,” She said. Eryn could feel his anxiety flare up throughout his entire body.

“O-of course, your majesty,” Eryn replied, masking his nervousness. Elsa’s icy glare faded to a warm smile.

“I’d first like to thank you personally. For doing this.”

“Ah, well, it was nothing. Didn’t like half of them anyway.”

“And the other half?”

“The other half didn’t like me.”

Elsa stifled a giggle, easing Eryn’s nerves a bit.

“I was surprised you even came back at all. Everyone in the council thought you’d disappear after I sent you off. Even Anna and Kristoff.” “Well, what can I say? I’m full of surprises.” The two of them started chuckling amongst each other. Eryn cringed internally. That’s what you say? He thought to himself, of course she knows you’re full of surprises, you ‘surprised’ her by trying to kill her! Their laughter soon died out, bringing about an awkward silence only broken by the sound of birds and the waves of the Arenfjord.

“Anyway…” Elsa continued, “With Mr. Üstag in custody now, I guess that means you’re debt free.”

“Indeed.”

“Did you… have any plans now?”

Eryn thought long and hard, “I had a… vague idea. Probably live out my days back in Karnisvarne. Become a farmer or something…”

This couldn’t have been farther from the truth. He’d actually planned to catch the next boat to Romania or something, far away from Arendelle, where he’d hopefully die a nobody. It’s what he deserved after fucking up as horribly as he did.

“Well, I’d like to make you a job offer, one that might sound better than being a farmer.”

Eryn cocked an eyebrow, “Oh?”

“I’d like to give you your old job back. Well, Derrick’s job, that is.”

Eryn’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. Surely she wasn’t serious, right?

“Wait, what?”

“You’ve not only proven that you're loyal to Arendelle, but also worthy enough to stand as my bodyguard. So, do you accept?”

Before Eryn had a chance to answer, Anna and Kristoff barreled through the front gates towards them.

“How are you so fast?” Anna panted before turning her attention to Eryn, “Oh, hello Eryn!”

“Greetings, Your Highness,” Eryn gave the princess a small bow, careful to avoid staring at the false leg his old colleagues gave her, “And you too, Mr. Bjorgman.”

“Right,” Kristoff said coldly, “So, I’m guessing that was the last of them being hauled to the dungeons?”

“Yes,” Elsa interjected, “We can all rest a little easier now, thanks to Eryn.”

“Well, it’s because of Eryn all this happened,” Kristoff grumbled under his breath, earning a slap on the shoulder from Anna.

“It doesn’t matter who caused it, it’s all in the past now. Now, Eryn, what do you think?”

“Well-”

“YOUR MAJESTY!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sa-” Eryn turned sharply to see what else was interrupting them. A young guard came bolting across the bridge, panting like a dog. He nearly tripped over his own feet as he tried to stop and catch his breath.

“What’s going on? Is something wrong?” Elsa asked, visibly concerned about the young man’s safety.

“A- a body… washed in from the fjord…” he panted.

Elsa’s jaw fell open, with Eryn’s following suit. “Where is it?” Elsa asked

“On the docks… one of the fisherman found him…”

“Alright, I’ll see to it. Thank you.” With no hesitation, Elsa made her way towards the docks.

“She really needs to learn to delegate,” Eryn said as he followed after her, followed by Anna, Kristoff and Olaf.

XXXXXX

Elsa, Anna, Kristoff, and Olaf tore through the massive crowd as if they were traversing through thick grass. When they reached the center of the mass of people, they saw a few doctors huddled around what appeared to be a rather muscular man, clothed in a white and blue striped shirt and navy blue pants. He was visibly breathing, though it was shallow and sporadic. As Elsa approached, Eryn made his way behind her.

“Oh, God,” Elsa said under her breath, “I-is he okay?”

“He appears to be alive, that’s the good news,” one of the doctors piped up, pumping a large pair of furnace bellows in the man’s throat. In an instant, a geyser of water erupted from the unconscious man’s mouth, causing the whole crowd to gasp in surprise.

“Оstrov Smerti! Ostrov Smerti!” he gasped between coughing bouts.

“He’s Russian?!” Eryn said, “What are the Russians doing here?”

“Who’s ‘Austin Smitty?’” Olaf asked, “Is that his name?”

“No,” Eryn replied, “He’s saying ‘Isle of Death…’” Eryn knelt down beside the man and began speaking to him.

“Chto s toboy sluchilos'?” he asked, “What happened?”

“Sh-shipwreck…” the man gasped, “w-we got stranded on some island… They… they slaughtered us like animals.”

“Who? What island?”

The man said nothing as he weakly raised his hand to point out towards the Arenfjord. His finger landed on the massive island just beyond the waters of Arendelle, thick with trees and mist.

“You were on Jӧrmundskala Island??!” Eryn and Elsa shouted. A murmur erupted from the crowd as the man was lifted off the ground by a few guards and doctors.

“Jӧrmundskala Island?” Anna said, “No one’s been on that island for years! Who would even think about going there?!” “I don’t know, but it’s something I need to look into,” Elsa said, not taking her eyes off of the island.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Kristoff said, “‘I?’”

“The island is Arendellian, inhabited or not. And I’d rather not get involved in an international incident with the Russian Empire.”

“I don’t think that’s what he meant,” Eryn interjected, “You made it sound like you were going there personally…”

“I am.”

“What?!” Anna blurted out, “You are not doing this alone.”

“Anna, no. I have my powers to protect me, plus I can’t have you injured again on my behalf…”

“I’ll manage. I’ve been through hell and back at least twice and without powers, so, y’know, I’m coming.”

“Me too,” Kristoff added.

“Jӧrmundskala?!” a voice shouted from the crowd. The four of them turned their attention to see Linaeus making his way through the crowd. “You can’t be serious, Elsa!”

“I am, Linaeus.”

“You aren’t going without me, or a proper military detachment.”

Elsa was taken aback by Linaeus’s demand before nodding. “Alright. Whatever guarantees a safe and quick procedure.”

“I’m going too,” Eryn said as he looked on towards the island, stifling a cough. All that were present stared at him confused as they all gave a synchronized “What?”

Eryn let his gaze linger on the island before turning to the group, “If I’m to take up a job as royal bodyguard, I should accompany you on this journey, shouldn’t I?”

Elsa smiled weakly as Kristoff, Anna, and Linaeus stared on in disbelief. As they talked amongst themselves, Eryn stared back at the island. He couldn’t describe what it was, but something inside of him was goading him there, drawing him to the island. Whether it was good or bad, he couldn’t tell yet.

All he knew was that he needed to go to that island.

#frozen fanfiction #disney frozen #OC #queen elsa #princess anna #olaf #kristoff #hans #fanfiction #Eryn Odrikson #blood tw #gore tw #mature

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ephemeral-afterlight · 5 years

Text

Day 30: Recovery

(We'll bring you back to life.)

Whumptober 2019 Day 30: Recovery

Word Count: 5766

Relationships: D(LAMPR)/DR. PAL (platonic)

Warnings: Suicide attempt aftermath (it isn't really talked about much, but it is mentioned), not unsympathetic Patton but he is kind of an asshole in this and he sees the error of his ways (hopeful ending), Remus-typical disturbing/violent language, angry confrontation, mentions of a scar/violent altercation, mentions/implications of brainwashing, cursing

A/N: I AM SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT. i meant to get this out in time and then i had a really bad bit of writer's block and got super unmotivated, but... anyway, enough excuses! i really hope this makes up for the wait, if even a little bit. this is a direct sequel to day 1: shaky hands (bringing it full circle babey!!!!) and it is the longest one yet! pls enjoy hehe~

When Deceit wakes up, he realizes three things simultaneously. One, it’s fucking cold, so cold that he can’t feel his hands or feet. Two, his head feels like it was just run over by a truck, like his brain got melted into mush and now he can barely think properly. Three, he’s not dead. He knows he’s not dead, he’s not gone, because Logan is sitting in a chair across the room quietly reading a book. If Deceit had truly succeeded, Logan wouldn’t be here, and he wouldn’t have woken up at all.

Shit.

“Wh… What happened? Why’m I not gone?” Deceit asks hoarsely, words slurred and throat gravelly from disuse. Much of his existence has been defined by his innate ability to repulse people, to scare them and push them away, so it’s more than a shock for him when Logan glances up from his book and gives him a small smile. That warm look is always reserved for the others, the ones who actually deserve it, so seeing it directed towards himself steals the breath from his lungs.

“You’re awake, I see. Are you in any pain?” Logan asks as he strides over to stand in front of where Deceit is lying propped up on a stack of pillows. He raises his hand to check for a fever, the backs of his fingers a warm balm on cool skin. When he detects nothing unusual, Logan tucks a loose strand of hair behind Deceit’s ear, tilts his head and listens with rapt attention as Deceit describes his points of pain (throat, stomach, head). The care he’s being given is so unexpected, and surreal, and Deceit is almost desperate to keep receiving it. He doesn’t remember the last time he had any kind of affection directed towards him, the last time someone cared enough to ask if he was okay. It’s odd, yet addicting in a way.

“Why aren’t I… should’a died,” Deceit whispers as his brows pull in, an unmistakably sad look echoing in his distant eyes. It doesn’t feel like there’s much else to say when his legs curl up to meet his chin, when he gazes ruefully at the blankets in front of him, and yet Logan somehow knows how to quell even a little bit of the turbulence in Deceit’s mind. He just sighs and sits on the bed, adjusts his glasses, and clears his throat with restlessness barely hidden below a mask of indifference.

“Roman found you in the tub. We immediately got to work caring for you and attempting to keep you alive, however you fell into a coma, which is obviously irreversible when the injury is self-inflicted. You have been asleep for approximately three weeks, and it… has been, well. Chaotic, for lack of a better term. As you did not die, there was no replacement to act in your stead, but since you were not awake to properly facilitate your function, Thomas was unable to employ your trait at all. It caused a lot of havoc, you know,” Logan says softly, exhaustion clear in his face and voice. A gentle finger wraps around one of Deceit’s own, holding it in a gesture of comfort, a promise. “I’m… I apologize for not saying anything that day, for not stopping Patton. I should not have been so cowardly as to enable the casting away of such an important side.”

And though Logan’s voice is thick, his sentiment remains steady, a quiet regret laced in the atonement that’s just as heavy as the tears building in Deceit’s eyes. He never thought in a million years that Logan would ever apologize to him, that anyone would ever care enough about him to feel guilty. It tears through him like a whirlwind, switching back and forth between joy and grief so quickly it’s causing a migraine to poke tauntingly behind his eyes.

“Logan that’s… s’not your fault. You didn’t wanna get hurt, and that’s good. I’m glad you didn’t. I’m… ‘m self-preservation-- not just for me and Thomas, but for you sides 's well. You getting mistreated would be far more painful than anything I’ve had to endure,” Deceit mumbles, wet eyes shining as he finally raises his head to meet Logan’s sorrowful scrutiny. Logan swallows hard as he moves his fingers to thread through Deceit’s own, unusual tactility breathing in a space meant for rest. His posture is tense, a sure sign of discomforted remorse, and it takes all of Deceit’s effort not to reach forward and gather him in a protective hug.

“It’s not an excuse, though. I still shouldn’t have allowed them to push you out like that, should’ve tried harder to get them to understand how valuable and important you are to Thomas. Like you are to me,” Logan stresses, and Deceit’s breath catches in his throat. He… does he really care that much? He thinks Deceit is important even when Deceit doesn’t believe that himself? That he’s of value? That… that he isn’t worthless?

And Logan has never been one for brevity, has always been ready to go on tangents of information and explanations and reassurance. He always clarifies things, breaks them down to the true basics to expose them for what they really are. He teaches, and cultivates minds and knowledge, and he’s so incredibly fascinating to watch. His mind is mesmerizing, the way he forms his thoughts so clearly and concisely that it’s impossible to have things be lost in translation.

“You keep Thomas safe, Deceit. You are his verbal shield, of sorts, what gives him the ability to protect himself and others. You strive for him to better himself and to do things for himself. You allow him to treat himself kinder, let him live easier without so much stress and responsibility and exhaustion. Although I don’t agree with some of your viewpoints, you only want what’s best for Thomas and will fight for it despite everyone pushing back on you anyway. You’re the only one of us who is truly alone and yet you’re brave enough to face the scorn just so that you can do your best to help Thomas. I… I admire you, Deceit. You are much stronger than I could ever be. It’s why you can’t leave us. I know selfishness is in your nature, and wanting to disappear is understandable given the circumstances of your existence, but… Thomas can’t function properly without you. He’s almost lost three friends just this week, which would only be detrimental to his mental and emotional state. We need you to stay. I need you to stay.”

And, well, if an immeasurably vulnerable Deceit is only able to burst out into tears, bury his sobs in the fabric of Logan’s button-up shirt while they both rock soothingly back and forth, then maybe it was time to really, truly let go.

To Deceit’s surprise, the second person he sees after waking up is Virgil. Logan has apparently allowed Deceit to stay in his room throughout the duration of his slumber, but Deceit is seriously starting to miss his pet snake, Ethel, so he managed to convince Logan to let him switch to his own bedroom. It’s odd to walk after not moving at all for weeks, so leaning on Logan’s shoulder for support is crucial to making sure he doesn’t fall over and take a nose dive into the floor.

It’s in the hallway that they run into the anxious side, and where Deceit is sure he’s about to get yelled at or something. Although they had been close in childhood, once Virgil left them, his attitude flipped like a switch for no apparent reason. For a long time, Deceit wondered what he did, thought that Virgil’s hate was warranted, but now… although he still doesn’t truly believe he belongs with anyone, he’s done throwing a pity party for himself. He didn’t do anything wrong, has never done anything to purposely harm Virgil, and hell if he’s gonna let the other side's scalding remarks poke holes in his self-esteem.

“D… Deceit?” Virgil breathes when he sees them, stops in his tracks and hides further in his hood. Logan looks at Deceit questioningly, as if telling him that he will absolutely walk right past Virgil without a word if Deceit wanted him to, and it’s so reassuring that Deceit immediately feels a thousand times more ready to finally face this. “You’re actually awake.”

“Yeah. I am,” Deceit says, and then he realizes that he needs to say this now before he loses his courage again. A sigh escapes him as he rubs his eye tiredly, and Logan squeezes his waist comfortingly. “I’m not leaving, Virgil. I don’t know what your problem is with me, I don’t know why you hate me so much when we used to be best friends, and I don’t know what I did to you that was so awful that you have to fight with me every time I’m around. I don’t. But I’m tired of spending night after night crying to myself and wondering what I did wrong. I think… I think it’s time for me to ask what you did wrong, and I don’t know if I can really forgive you for the things you’ve said to me right now. But I’m here, and I’m staying for good, and you’re gonna have to learn to get over that because I’m seriously getting sick of feeling like I'm not good enough for you.”

Wow. That little rant made him feel the best he has felt in a long time. Although he’s pinching himself hard and using the pain as a way to be able to tell the full truth outside of their rooms, a certain clarity befalls him with each word. It’s immensely relieving to finally say the things he’s been wanting to tell Virgil for years, to finally let himself think that maybe it’s not his fault for once. And he can tell Logan is proud of him, judging by the way his eyes shine with respect despite his neutral expression.

Virgil looks miserable, and Deceit wants to feel bad, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t regret what he said a single bit, doesn’t wish to take back any of his words. The anxious side opens his mouth as if he’s going to say something, but aborts the action at the last second, instead going to stare at the floor while he chews on his lip. His silence means a lot more than Virgil himself likely realizes, meanings and intentions and unnamed thoughts spilling out in the space between them, and Deceit nudges Logan so that they can walk around him and into Deceit’s own bedroom.

They have a long way to go, but Deceit can already feel the tiniest bit of hope shining inside him.

A lot has changed in the four months since Deceit’s attempt. For one, Thomas has allowed him a more permanent spot in the group, after a particularly heated argument with Logan than ended with the three of them finally coming to a mutual understanding with one another. Secondly, Virgil is talking to him again. Not the passive-aggressive banter, not the scathing insults, not the glares and hostility that Deceit is so used to. Now, he’s really trying to actually talk to him, will speak about something that happened in the news with him at the dinner table or show him memes when they’re both chilling in the mindscape living room. There’s so much more there, so much more respect and care, and Deceit has a feeling that they might even be friends again sometime soon.

Thirdly, Deceit has barely seen and hasn't talked to Patton outside of filming videos.

Although Deceit doesn’t particularly want to speak with Patton, listen to him say that "he's a bad influence, Thomas is a good person, you can't be here", it’s still odd that he’s somehow able to never be in the room when Deceit enters. When he does catch him off guard, the older side only gives him an unreadable look and makes his exit as quickly and inconspicuously as possible, typically taking advantage of the twins’ commotion to slip out undetected. Deceit notices, because of course he does, and to his own surprise, it doesn’t bother him as much as he expects. He’ll just wait for Patton to come to him, whenever he’s finally ready to admit his faults and apologize, so there’s no point in fretting over it.

However, Deceit does need to talk with the twins, Roman more so than Remus, and it’s this need that leaves him standing outside Roman’s door at one in the morning, a fist raised to knock. It’s not like he has to worry about Roman being asleep, because he’s always awake into the late hours of the night, frantically coming up with new ideas just to veto them all anyway. His process is almost manic, completely self-destructive, and it garners a lot of sympathy from a part of himself that can sorely relate.

The three swift raps on the door evoke a surprised squawk from within the bedroom, and multiple loud thumps can be heard before the heavily decorated door swings open. Deceit just stands there with a judgemental expression, lightheartedly raising an eyebrow in amusement at the sight of the creative side. He’s covered head-to-toe in glitter, multiple colours sparkling when the plastic reflects the dim light coming from the hall. He looks ridiculous, with the flakes in his hair and eyelashes and clothing, but he manages to look confident even despite that. It’s fake, Deceit knows it’s fake, but he humours him anyway.

“What’re you doing in there?” Deceit asks, a sly smirk playing on his lips, and Roman has the humility for an embarrassed blush to spread across his cheeks. He fidgets with the bottom of his coat even as he puts on a brave face, and Deceit can see through him so easily. Maybe it has to do with his purpose, the fact that the very arrogance the princely side portrays is a lie in itself, or maybe it’s because Roman is just that transparent.

“Just-- Just creating art! None of your business! Why’re… why are you here?” Roman asks, initial loudness tapering off to reveal uncertainty and vulnerability, and it’s a wonder the others haven’t figured this out sooner. Roman is so painfully obvious in his insecurity, shows how much he truly doubts himself and his work like a flashing neon sign above his head.

“I wanted to talk. Come to an understanding, if you will,” Deceit hums, adjusts his trusty bowler hat on his head casually despite it actually being a nervous tic. He doesn’t actually know what Roman is going to say, doesn’t know if he’s going to fall back on yelling and accusations and swing out his sword just like he did before. Will Deceit be left with a scar this time, too? Will he gain another streak of raised white, another lightning bolt stretching across the expanse of his skin, marring the smooth surface just like last time?

“Oh. Uh, um. Come in, then, I-I guess,” Roman stutters, picks at a flake of shimmering chipped nail polish as he steps to the side. His room is just as much of a mess as Deceit expects if not more, but the vexation he feels as he scans the aftermath of a creative tornado is just as acute. Stacks of parchment paper are piled in high towers around the room, looming overhead like a thundercloud of loathing. Pens and pencils and fabric and threads are strewn about, placed in such an intrinsically accurate way that it feels like the chaos is almost organized. It’s meticulous in its frenzy, a passionate craze that seems to be woven into so much of how the other side functions.

“I came to ask you for a favour. I ask you to not whip out your katana at me any time we are in the vicinity of one another. We wouldn’t want a repeat of last time, no?” Deceit asks, smooth and suave and uninterested on the surface. Of course, underneath he isn’t faring as well, but Roman doesn’t need to know that. Deceit is just waiting for Roman’s congeniality to flip on its head like a switch, for the civil nature of their interaction to turn sour when he decides he’s done listening to him. He’s expecting for Roman to yell, or maybe even for a fist to come his way, and he’ll have to start back at square one again. That’s just how Roman is. Fiercely protective, headstrong even when that same stubbornness and fire causes him to stumble, to put his attention in the wrong place.

But he doesn’t. Roman doesn’t get angry, in fact, he gets quite a sad look in his eyes at Deceit’s words. The way his gaze probes far into Deceit’s own, pulls him apart and examines his intentions and thoughts and feelings, it all leaves him feeling incredibly vulnerable. And he is uncomfortable when against all odds, Roman just darts forward to pull Deceit into his arms, smushes his half-scaled face into a broader chest with a passion that has never, ever been for him.

“But of course, small snake! A true prince would never brandish his blade at anyone other than a foe, and you, my Daring Deception, are far from it,” Roman tells him with a full tone and bright eyes, and the way he looks down at Deceit with such compassion and care to completely contradict his usual regards leaves Deceit’s head spinning. The snake-like side looks up at Roman from where he’s snuggled into his chest, gives him wide eyes and a look of surprise that he forgets to mask, and Roman’s smile is so much more gentle than Deceit thought he had the capacity for. “You are a friend. You’re a brave, shining knight to protect Thomas, just like me! If you ask me, I think we’d make a pretty good team.”

The endeared grin Deceit gives him in return surprises both of them equally.

Deceit doesn’t expect much to happen when he rises up in Remus’ room. The place is just as messy as always, just as chaotic as Roman’s is but in a different way. While Roman can make sense of the chaos, search through the whirlwind with such accuracy as if rifling through a file cabinet, Remus simply takes a sniff and hopes for the best. He doesn’t bother with organization of any kind, doesn’t bother with making things easier on himself, and Deceit supposes that very tendency can account for a lot of the behaviour Remus has portrayed in the past.

“Double Dee! What’cha doin’ here? Wanna try the sandwich I made? It has strawberries and eel meat and tartar sauce! Here, have a bite!” Remus demands excitedly, childishly, and despite the disgust Deceit feels while looking at the absolutely abominable excuse of edible food squished between Remus’ fingers, he only shakes his head neutrally. He just needs to get this over with, make sure everything is okay between them.

“I’ve already eaten today, Remus. Maybe next time. Actually, I wanted to ask you something,” Deceit dismisses, waves a gloved hand as he clears away some garbage for a spot to sit on Remus’ bed. The owner of said bed perks up from where he sits cross-legged on the floor, a rigidly-postured Remus surrounded by a circle of discarded candy wrappers. Deceit only hopes Remus actually ate them, and didn’t do something stupid, like glue them to his legs or see how many he could shove up his nose. “Do you… do you hate me?”

“What? ‘f course not! You’re fun, Dee-Dee! Almost as fun as when rollercoasters go flying off their tracks and smash into a building and go up in flames with the screaming passengers still inside! Hey, what did dying feel like?” Remus answers, jumping and shifting from one topic to another so fast it’s giving Deceit whiplash. He doesn’t like to linger on a particular topic for very long with the exception of him being the one to bring it up, unless it’s immediately or inherently shunned by someone else for existing. That only adds fuel to the fire, gives Remus a reason to keep perpetuating the idea, because the more Thomas doesn’t want to think about something, the more he’s guaranteed to toil under it. “You wanted to die, right? Otherwise you wouldn’t’a ate all those pills. ‘cept I already know that we can actually die ‘n’ be replaced, since that’s what happened with our ol’e pal Lust. And the new one got thrown in the subconscious a week later, so. Are y’a wantin’ to leave? Wanna… wanna leave me behind?”

And Deceit doesn’t really know what to say to that. They didn’t talk much when they were still living together in the “dark” part of the mindscape, not even when they were three instead of two. They’ve never been particularly close, and yet Remus sounds genuinely upset at the notion of Deceit leaving for good. His impact must be much larger than he’s thought all this time, to cause such hurt and betrayal in someone he was sure was indifferent to his presence.

“Of course not, Remus. It was a mistake, and I won’t make it again. I’m staying, this time, and I’m not gonna leave you alone,” Deceit consoles, reassures despite the fact that Remus isn’t outwardly upset. He doesn’t cry, he doesn’t lash out, he doesn’t scream or shout or yell. He simply sits there, stares with his wistful, bitter brown eyes, and it makes him simultaneously all too easy to read and yet incredibly difficult.

“Oh. Well, good! That means I can make y’a more sandwiches! Chef’s special!” They’re sure to be disgusting. But maybe Deceit can pretend to like it just to see delight burst to life on Remus’ face.

Confronting Patton is the scariest thing Deceit has ever had to do in his entire existence as a side.

Despite what Logan said the day he woke up, Deceit is a coward. It’s a direct result of his purpose; after all, what kind of self-preservation would run straight into danger with no regard to what might happen after? His caution is certainly warranted, given the situation, but it doesn’t necessarily mean that it isn’t still difficult. It’s hard to be so distrusting of someone who’s supposed to be a helper, someone who’s supposed to be Thomas’ morality. And Thomas is a good person, at times dangerously so, which makes Patton’s actions that day so many years ago so confusing.

Despite how part of him rings a pulsing red alarm when he’s even within a twenty-foot radius around the patriarchal side, there’s an even bigger part that’s yelling at him to hurry up and instigate an apology already, because this is getting annoying. He just wanted to wait, to let Patton come up with the correct conclusion on his own, because how else will he truly learn? But Deceit can’t even be in the same room with him without the other side scampering away at the first opportunity, and he’s tired of playing these cat-and-mouse games. The worst part is, he doesn’t even know if he’s the cat or the mouse.

Having already made amends with all of the others, Deceit decides it’s time to stop putting this off. If Patton won’t suck it up and apologize, or if he really is just that oblivious to the point of all of this, then fine. He can be like that. Deceit will just come to him. And so he does, manages to sneak up on him while he’s in the kitchen, humming as he makes himself a salad. It’s late, so everyone else is either asleep or pretending to be, and it creates a space where Deceit can do this on his own. Although he’s embarrassed, Deceit isn’t too proud to admit that he is a little afraid, that he can see Patton turning on him and hurting him as a vivid mental image playing in a loop. He just hopes this doesn’t go that way.

“Patton,” Deceit says stoically, not exactly a greeting, but more of an accusation. Patton lets out a little shocked yelp and whips around, butter knife out as if he’s going to actually use it. Deceit may be scared, but apparently Patton is too, and he has no right to be. Before Patton can sink out and run away just like every other time, Deceit grabs his shoulder, gently but assertively pushing him down into the kitchen chair scooted away from the table.

Patton looks up at him with terrified eyes and an almost nauseous expression, and it takes a lot of personal control for Deceit to not be offended. Who is he to be afraid of Deceit? What has Deceit done to hurt and scare him so badly? What gives him the right to be so frightened, the nerve to seem petrified of this encounter after how he treated Deceit? Anger boils up in Deceit’s throat listlessly, a nebulous animosity that yearns to explode. It only builds when Patton cowers under the snake-like side’s unimpressed stare.

“We need to talk. No more of your running away,” Deceit demands, stern and obstinate, but he’s sure his firm demeanour appears much more inexorable to the fatherly side. Although Deceit really is trying his best to not be antagonistic, his ire is only fueling his volatility, leaving his self-restraint put through the wringer in the face of his almost overwhelming sense of betrayal. What took place that day should never have happened, the events seemingly a direct antithesis to Patton’s usual intentions and motivations as Morality, but it did, and he can’t go any longer trying to escape responsibility and repercussions while Deceit shoulders all of the stress it caused.

“W--W-What do you wanna t-talk about, kiddo?” Patton stutters, stumbles around a feigned ignorance as his eyes dart between everything but Deceit’s own steely gaze. His fingers tremble as he fidgets with them, attempts a distraction from the confrontation, and it’s so unfair that Deceit almost wants to turn and kick the side of the counter in an angry outburst. He doesn’t, of course, because he’s not that brazenly juvenile, but he sure does wish he could.

“I’m not your kiddo, not after what you did to me. Don’t you dare call me that,” Deceit hisses as he slams a hand down on the table right beside where Patton is leaning. The latter of the two flinches, jumps with a tiny scared squeal dying in his throat before it can even be released into the silence left after Deceit’s outburst. He swallows hard as tears prick at his eyes, shine in the dim light of the kitchen, and Deceit feels no sympathy at all.

“P-Please don’t hurt me!” Patton rushes out as he curls in further on himself, tries to make the space his body takes up as compact as possible. Deceit scoffs, pulling back to stand up straight once more. He may be the shortest out of all of the sides, but his dominant, authoritative fury lets him loom just as well. There’s really no point in drawing this out any more than it needs to be, and although Deceit certainly would take an immense satisfaction in seeing Patton squirm, he needs to be the bigger person here.

“Hurt you? What, like you hurt me?” Deceit’s words are simple, biting, but they accomplish their intended effect all the same, maybe even more so. Patton shrinks back as if he’s been slapped, and he kind of has, at least metaphorically. The only way he will truly understand the nature of his actions is by being blunt and upfront about it; no sugarcoating, no dancing around the subject, no room to make excuses or twist the imperative words. Guilt is a powerful thing, and when utilized correctly, it can be the one thing that truly shifts the interpersonal tide.

“I-- I… I’m sorry!” Patton blurts out, uncertain under Deceit’s withering glare. His admission feels fake, hollow, empty. It echoes in the room for a round, allows Deceit a moment to quell the curses that well up in his throat and dance on his silver tongue. “I didn’t mean to--”

“Yes you did, don’t lie to me,” Deceit spits, interrupting the fake reassurance and stopping it in its tracks before it can become bigger than it deserves to be. Patton’s mouth snaps shut as he looks down at his lap, arms slowly shifting to curl around himself in a mockery of an embrace. Fine. Let him garner all the comfort he can get, because he sure won’t be comfortable when Deceit is done.

“You made me think I was safe, that I had a family. I had existed in the mindscape for a total of two hours before you threw me out for something I couldn’t even control. And I’m half-snake, you know that-- did you know that snakes are cold-blooded?” Deceit asks, and he laughs humourlessly when he sees a dawning realization that turns into horror on Patton’s face. “I almost died out there. When Virgil found me, he had to literally bring me back to life moments before I would have fully faded away. Do you know how much that fucking scared him?

“You turned everyone who I ever thought could have been a friend against me. Roman was so happy to finally have someone to go on adventures with, and the next time I saw him, he hated me. I wonder why, hm? Did you know that after he switched his sword from plastic to metal, after you made him believe that I’m the evil villain he needs to slay, he tried to do exactly that? I still have the scar,” Deceit says bitterly as he lifts his hand up. He ignores Patton’s flinch in favour of pushing aside the fabric of his capelet and shirt, showing the paternal side the raised white line that jaggedly falls from the top of his shoulder to about halfway down his arm. A whimper spills from Patton’s lips, desperate and ashamed, and Deceit really hopes he’s finally starting to get it.

“Not to mention what you did to Logan. He was so fucking terrified to speak up about what you did to me that he stayed silent, went directly against his purpose as a side just to make sure that he wouldn’t be thrown out and ostracized too. Do you know how much that hurts me, as self-preservation? What’s even worse is that I’m glad he stayed quiet and kept himself safe, because who knows what could have happened if he dared to go against Morality.”

With the words shot from Deceit’s mouth like a bullet from a revolver, tears finally breach Patton’s lashes, roll over his cheekbones and fall in droplets onto his pants. His shoulders shudder under the weight of silent sobs, and even as Patton’s lips twist as he tries not to cry audibly, he still keeps his head held up while he listens. The action is peculiar, and Deceit knows what he’s trying to convey, but atonement is much more than just that. It’s a start, but there’s certainly a long way to go.

“Virgil was my best friend, you know. I cared about him so fucking much, and he was the only one who truly had my back when I was still recovering from what you did. But even he wanted to have a taste of acceptance, and it wasn’t a surprise in the slightest when he suddenly hated me the next time we were able to talk. Your brainwashing knows no limits, truly,” Deceit sneers, contempt in his eyes and pain in his heart. He doesn’t want to open up. He doesn’t want to be honest like this, doesn’t want to pinch himself until he’s numb just so he can focus long enough to finally show Patton the truth about what he’s done. He doesn’t want to, but he has to, because he’ll just regret it if he doesn’t.

“I wasn’t really ever close friends with Remus, but that doesn’t matter because Remus shouldn’t even exist. In fact, neither should Roman. You split Creativity apart, forced them apart based on your arbitrary set of rules for Thomas to abide by, and shoved him into a harmful, narrow mindset. And if that wasn’t enough, you couldn’t even let them properly be brothers and grow up together as siblings, like they should have. No, you shoved Remus out just like me, and it caused him to hole himself up in his room for nearly twenty years just so he could use his part of the Imagination to make a world where he wasn’t separated from his literal other half. He likes to act like he doesn’t care, but I know he does, and he shouldn’t fucking have to.

“You’ve only brought suffering upon me, and Remus, and Virgil at one point. To those who needed you the most, you scorned and demonized, and left us with no guidance or warmth simply because you don’t like our purpose. But we are all sides of Thomas, just as much as you are, and whether you like it or not, we are important and needed. I’m done trying to convince myself to be the villain, to play into your fantasy and the knowledge that I’d never get accepted or be listened to. I deserve so much more than you’re giving me, and I’m never going to make the mistake of inherently trusting you again. This time, you have to earn it.”

“I’m so sorry, Deceit,” Patton whispers, slow and thick and watery at the same time, and the soft, quiet words cause Deceit to completely deflate. He’s so tired, so fucking exhausted, and he knows that it’s going to be this way for a long time.

And maybe it’s too much. Maybe it’ll take too long, or maybe it’ll never happen. Maybe they’ll never truly fix this, mend and repair the cracks driven between them as a result of how Deceit grew up. Maybe Deceit will never work up the courage to forgive Patton, to be able to look at him without fear and anger leaping up into his throat. But none of that matters, not really, because Deceit finally has people who care about him, people who will stand up for him and support him when he can’t do it himself. And for now, maybe that’s all he really needs.

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