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Whumtober 2019

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Shinsou had watched with fear as the building collapsed onto the secondary team. This wasn't a training exercise or accident this was real life with its harsh lines as he watched the shock of blonde disappear into the rubble.

That had been two days ago, Uravity had been helping move the remains of the building off of those trapped. Most of them no longer breathing, his hope was dwindling for any good news. He hadn't slept for the time and Shinsou felt sluggish and tired. The caffeine intake made his whole body convulse in time with his heart.

He wondered if this was the end of them, Denki dying buried under layers of rubble, cold and alone. He could only hope. They had confined him away at his apartment while the missions went on and he prayed. Hands clasped to hide there shaking.

He waited, on and on into the nights...

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Tim hadn't realised the blast had gone off until he was burning, the whole body hot and hurting. An ache that couldn't begin. He knew he had passed out, his skin was a pockmarked mess of blood and remnants of skin, torn and messy. He knew he was lucky, equipment fried but he was shielded by the concrete pillars that were holding up the top layer, he could breathe and see alright and that was what mattered to him.

Jason caught the very end of the explosion, with the fires still raging but the heat of it gone. Saw his pretender gasping spluttering bleeding out onto the floor. He carried him home, but he wouldn't do anything else. The pretender wasn't his responsibility. Even when it ached to see another Robin half dead because Bruce wasn't fast enough.

Bruce was older now, had seen the world's beauty and pain. He was tired of trying to rescue a mistress that didn't want his help. A city that kept punishing those trying to save it. Tim was sleeping on a cot in the medical wing, body charred but healing. This was what waited for his children, this city nurtured them with cruelty and how had this affected them? His little soldiers had never seemed as young and small. He stood shook himself and returned to work, he had no time to dwell on this. Tim knew the issues of being in this family. (He refused to acknowledge the hurt in his gut as his Son lay unresponsive in a medical bay.)

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Sero watched Denki shift, his face filled with the confusion of his quirk. He was so vulnerable and to see him like this was strange and frightening. Jiro joked about it called his 'Dumb' mode. He couldn't laugh at it after last night. Denki had come to his room in a daze of pure fear, eyes overflowing with tears and horrible fear. Had explained in-between hitching sobs the darker sides of his quirk.

"I don't know what happens. The world fades into this blur of bright colours and white noise. I cannot remember who anyone is, friend or foe. I can't remember what the colour yellow is or what it means to me, I can't remember who I am outside of the desperate curling fear I'm not right." He had then wept through the night, falling into a deep sleep with Sero's hands in his hair.

The whole class was laughing at Denki, and Sero couldn't watch it happen. He was filled with pure undulated fear that this would be the end of his friend. This would be the time he would forget him forever.

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Prompto knew it was going to happen long before it did. Ardyn had his hands curled under his waist, tightly pulling him close to a body that he feared. His friends were trying valiantly to pull him away but it wouldn't happen, Ardyn was using him as a piece of bait. He could feel himself sobbing as a knife was pushed against his throat again, a thin line of blood oozing its way down his face, he had three such lines so far.

Then Gladio got cocky, went in for an attack cleaving his sword down trying to reach cut Ardyn in half. He missed, and Prompto cried out. His chest burned and he saw stars, the cut was to his shoulder down to the base of his leg. It was spurting out blood violently. Ardyn scoffed and dropped him like a sack onto the dusty terrain they were fighting on. Dropping him down and standing on his back so hard he heard a snap, he opened his mouth and a wet wheeze left him. The pool around him grew and grew, and the headache increased tenfold. He could hear Noct like listening through treacle, screaming. It was so far away though, he was ready for a little sleep right now. He wanted to stay awake but he knew he couldn't. At least it was warm.

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Ardyn watched Prompto fall with a disconnected joy, the young boy had held a gun in his face with the fury of a king and had been betrayed by his. Noctis was at his feet where he belonged snot covering his hands and tears falling onto the roof.

The laugh bubbled up unwanted and maniacal as the Chosen King sobbing. The poor gunman lost in the woods. Bleeding from the gunshot in his thigh, and very unlikely to survive for more than a weak. It pleased him so immensely that the laugh burst from his stomach. He brought the hilt of his sword down onto the head of the King and made his way off the train.

The gunman was sprawled out body caught in twigs. He waited for several minutes in silence before the blonde began to wake, summoning the gun and gesturing with it madly at the young man's head, he flinched in fear.

"The King has abandoned you, little child. I own you now, this may have been given to you from your little prince. But I am your king now."

He pointed the gun at the boy's shoulder watched his small body shake with fear and worry. Expressional eyes flooding with tears, and freckled cheeks paled into the parlour of a ghost.

He fired...

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Marc!" Nathaniel screamed, twisting toward his lover. The newest Akuma had decided to drag 'pretty' people away, pulling them into the river. The villain laughed at his anguish. As Marc disappeared into the dark deep water, painted nails and hands reaching. Fear swelling in Marc's bright green eyes.

He had held on for as long as possible, clasping onto his boyfriend when the sirens started blaring throughout the school. Marc had carried both their books to the nearest classroom. They had been alone in there not daring to venture out into the world while the Akuma was around. They had stayed there until the windows blew inwards and hands climbed through the window. They had seen Marc and grabbed him, holding him down and slowly dragging him out of the window. He had thrashed and screamed. Reaching out and holding Nath's hand. They had kept pulling. Marc had started crying.

Where were the hero's right now? Chat and Ladybug. His boyfriend being pulled further and further from him, and down into the water. The heroes appeared in a cloud of magic and skill fighting off the young villain, a model who had been rejected because of her looks. The people kidnapped began appearing again.

The vision of his boyfriend dragged beneath the waves haunted him as he combed down the riversides. He couldn't find the young boy with messy blue hair. He couldn't see him anywhere, on both sides of the river. There was no sign of him.

Marc was not on a riverside. He wasn't even near it, he had been found by a man lying prone on the banks. This man was not a kind man. He had dragged the sleeping boy across the ground, opening up cuts and bruising his face. Taking him into his home. He locked the boy in his bedroom not restrained just the door locked. He called out, voice high and frightened, and received no answer. He cried out, looking desperately for an exit and finding none.

He cried out again and again and received no answer.

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The darkness pushed down around him, one hand pushed up against dark damp walls. Skimming along the crumbling bricks, Alec had been down here for over a day this he knew. He felt the dryness of his throat burn as he swallowed his saliva but it had lost its relief, hunger pangs wracked his body so harshly he had to stop moving wasting precious minutes lost in this tiny tunnel. He'd lost his witchlight at least an hour ago tumbling out of his hand and onto a rocky floor. There was no time for him to waste looking every minute was precious and important to help find him.

He held the image of Magnus close hoping that would give him the energy to keep moving. He needed a break, to sit and recoup what little strength he had. But sitting had been a mistake. He couldn't stand up again, legs giving way under him. He rested his head on the wall behind him, eyes falling closed. Slipping into a restless slumber.

Magnus had never been this worried since the early tumultuous days of there relationship beginning. Now though he was terrified, Alec had been missing for just under two days. Thrown down a shaft by rouge Vampires. Left underground with no food or water. He couldn't even portal down to find him, hoping desperately that he was alive and well. They had found the second entrance at the end of the first night and they were finally going in. It was dark and damp but it barely registered with the constant light from both the shadow hunters little rock and his own magic. He prayed that they would find him today. The likely hood becoming smaller and smaller every day. It was Jace that kept the hope alive promising that the Parabati bond was still going strong and felt the connection to Alec.

There was a sharp corner to the left and Magnus tripped over, straight onto the body of his beloved. Alec was pale but breathing tiny little puffs of air, warm breaths against his neck. His black hair was matted with sweat and grime but there were breath and life in his body. Magnus turned and cradled him close, pressing a kiss to his temple.

"He's feverish and dehydrated. We have to carry him out get him back to the institute. Now!" Grabbing him under his knees and lifting him up, Alec's head lolling and letting out a pathetic whine.

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"oh," that was it. A soft release of air from his lungs as he slumped forward into Akira, head lolling against him. There was a wet sound behind him, and sharp pain from his abdomen. Akira turned to face him surrounded by static.

"Yuuki? Mishima!?" He called, there was a soft groan as a reply. Akira wrapped hands around the younger male. His hands came in contact with something wet and sticky. He pulled them away quickly, expecting it to be water or juice of some kind. It was quite evidently not.

His fingertips were stained with red, like Persephone eating pomegranates in the court of hades it dripped down his arms slowly as Mishima slumped against him properly passing out completely. Akira kicked into overdrive mind swimming through the several safe places they could get to in the city. He had to stop and think, evaluate the best course of action. The Doctor, his maybe friend near Leblanc. He struggled to lift the prone boy as he groaned at the movement. Mishima wasn't light, muscle hidden beneath the shield of loose clothing. His head lolled against Akira, giving the illusion of a porcelain puppet, bruises off Kamoshida still fading and disappearing. Why could his boy not catch a break?

The office was empty when they got into it. Takemi was at the front desk, twiddling a pen between her fingers when Akira barged in. Looking every bit the mad angel, eyes streaming with crystalline tears.

"Help him," he whispered as she shot to his side, assessing the damage to Mishima, bringing back a hand sticky with blood. She nodded and helped him lift the smaller boy onto the bed. With a firm but kind hand on Akira's shoulder, she pushed him out into the waiting room. He sat there head in hands blood beginning to dry on his hair.


Ryuji was used to strange messages on his phone from Ann. He was not used to garbage from Akira. The words jumbled and misspelt. So with his nightly plans of video games and texting Yuuki. He followed bad instructions to a medical building. Worry was building now, he sent a text to Ann to join him as he rushed inside. He was not expecting Akira sat in the waiting room hands coated in blood and tears flowing freely.

Ryuji wrapped his arms around the taller boy, "It's Mishima... He was stabbed? I think it happened so quickly. I" he cut himself off breathing hard. Ryuji muttered into his hair keeping quiet and humming into blood-encrusted hair.

Ann entered quietly to a sight that was normal and entirely strange. She placed her hands around the two boys adding her own fire into the hug. Her nose pushed into Ryuji's hair. The only sound being Akira's little huffs of breath and humming.

They got an ok a few hours later, he would be fine but was sleeping for a while. It hadn't been too serious but Akira had done the right thing. They crowded in holding onto each other through the night and long after the younger male woke up.

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Ann used to sing, before the Phantom Thieves and Kamoshida. While she sat with Suzui she would sing to the girl. When times were easier and less chaotic and terrible. Today had been difficult, Kamoshida's 'deadline' was coming up, they were near the end granted but she had never been more scared than they would miss it. They had stumbled through another room today much to her own horror. There had been another cognition of someone. It was wasn't her thank god but it was bad enough.

It had been Suzui, head down on a desk eyes glassy and lifeless, behind bars and shackled to a wall. She hadn't given any indication she knew who Ann was or if she knew who was there. She hadn't even been breathing. Mona had managed to slip through the bars checking over the girl. Mona refused to talk as he had left the cell, some things were better-left secrets he had said and given Ann a small hug.

She hadn't even wanted to try.

The cognitive Suzui seemed to shift for a moment, gaining boyish features and blue hair before settling back into Suzui. The shift stirred the papers and they floated down like butterfly wings to rest on her boot. They were drawing, crude sickly drawings of Suzui, drawn like a child with crayons but evidently not by a child. Many showed Suzui crying or getting hurt, some were unmentionable.

Ann had lit them all on fire.

Akira had pried the cell door open, he had whispered something to Ryuji but hadn't specified what he was saying. Ann had held the cold body the cognition close, sobbing into the shoulders. Kamoshida had obviously enjoyed Suzui fighting. There were scar marks and no longer bleeding wounds littering every inch of there boy. One eye was swollen and the other had a small trail of blood coming from it.

Ann sobbed.

The cuffs around there arms and legs were mottled purple, like an amethyst gem. There was another cut was the cuff dug into Suzui leg. It was deep enough to see the bone.

It was obvious she had been here for a long time.

Ann resigned herself now, body thrumming again like the awakening of her power, Kamoshida had done this to her closest friend and almost lover. Had taken someone with such passion and joy for a sport and twisted it into fear and terror. Had ruined someone's life. The doctors had said Suzui would be lucky to wake up.

Ann began to hum, voice like static. Building up into real words and intonation. Singing voice reaching a crescendo and continuing onwards. The words of vengeance and death. There would be blood and it would no longer be for those she loved. It would come from the King of this Palace. He will pay.

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707 hadn't been expecting MC at all, the young woman and appeared behind him so suddenly he had screeched high enough to wake the dead and hit her full force on the nose. Her eyes had rolled back into her head and she had collapsed, like a puppet with the strings cut. He had started laughing at first, then apologetic at her lack of response. The frightened. She was breathing fine and had the beginning of a bruise forming but was ok and he could deal with that. A least she was ok.

The second time Luciel saw MC unconscious was when she was fast asleep, he had taken a short break due to her request, ate something other than Honey Buddha Crisps and drank PhD Pepper. She had fallen asleep on the couch hair messily draped like think pieces of silk all over the chair. She was scrunched up, head resting on the top of her knees, there wasn't any audio but he could imagine the soft sounds she was making in her sleep. He wanted to see her face to face he knew this but that time may not come for quite a while, probably until the party, he could wait he knew this so why was it so hard...

"Saeyoung!" She called with a scream falling through his fingers like water. She slipped went down hard, head colliding with the ground with a thud. The sound bounced around the tiny corridor, echoing louder and louder.

Sae glanced over at the passenger seat noticing his girlfriend was asleep, snoring and drooling on his headrest. He laughed loudly and grinned they had so much to look forward to.

"Seven," The gun went off and she started falling, like slow motion, it had clipped her shoulder the bullet, not fatal or too dangerous but her falling was. She landed funny, with a clatter against a wooden chair. Eyes closed and brown hair falling over his hands. He didn't say a word as the shooter touched her and laughed, spitting on her, it dripped down, but she did not react at all. A small part of him was happy about that fact, at least she didn't have to be demeaned.

"Seven," The gun went off and she started falling, like slow motion, blood blooming like a rose on her brown jumper. Over her heart, she collapsed on a wooden chair for a second before slumping forward and onto the floor. No convulsing or last speeches. She just bled out, soul swimming in between the cracks. He knew he was sobbing, but this was the worst version it could have been.

"Good Morning!" She yawned out to him, waking slowly. Grinning at were their legs were curled together, MC snuggled further into his chest. He had watched her sleep, breathe huffing into his ear, letting out small breathes that made him shiver. Long eyelashes hiding wide eyes.

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Noctis was well used to casual touching, his father was a man of action rather than speech, they would sit together often just happy to be in the same room, enjoying each others company in silence or with something mundane on the radio. When he was really little he would curl up with his dad, now they just sat close enough to touch. It was enough.

Gladio was tactile, Iris was too. They would wrap Noctis up in hugs and smother him with affection. Gladio's love of bad literature a good way to get him to capture him in a punishing hug. Or the siblings would gang up on him in tickle wars. Then there was sparring, and although the contact was violent, the aftermath never was. Kindness and care gave after a harsh match, they would patch up each other. Laughing and happy.

Ignis wasn't fond of lots of contacts but would always be willing after a stressful day. He was like a little cat, if he wanted contact he would get it but most of the time he did not. They would talk over food and occasionally hold hands, or snuggle with each other after a stressful day, there wasn't always affection but it was there.

Prompto wasn't like that.

He never gave casual touches, the two friends had touched a few times in their long friendship. But Prompto never relaxed with it, Noctis hated it. Every part of it he hated, the lack of contact made him feel like he had done something incredibly wrong and horrible because of it. He wanted to hold Prompto close like it had been done so many times for him.

Prompto wasn't used to being touched at all, Noctis kept offering an arm to cuddle on the sofa while they watched shitty rom-coms, but it never came to ahead. He felt to awkward and like a string pulled much to tightly. He didn't trust that he would do it correctly, how were you supposed to hug someone? Was there an etiquette? He was never sure. He knew one day it would come to a head, Noct would ask and question his reluctance to have contact. He didn't want to ever have that conversation.

"Prompto?" Noctis questioned, the entire couch between them. He was curled up against the other arm of the seat.

"Yeah, Noct." He smiled turning towards the boy. Grinning his little mischievous smile.

"Can we hug, its cold here."

"I" there was silence for a moment, "How do you do...that?" He whispered it losing his smile. Turning his head away obviously frightened of what to do.

"You don't know how to do you? That's why you won't touch me. Prompto comes here please." Prompto followed obediently, like a little puppy, he sat closer to Noct enough to barely feel the heat radiating out from him.

Noctis offered a hand that Prompto mirrored, Noct clasped it in his own lacing their fingers together. Prompto shivered in the blue wash from the television painting his hair into cornflower. Noctis wrapped his arm around the smaller male, who let out a whine, eyes opening wide with shock. Arms covered in goosebumps. Noctis kept holding him, even when he started crying. Long through the night, until the tense body relaxed against him.

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Akira had never panicked during a heist before, the palace leader before him. Most of the team was out on their backs. Ryuji had fallen flat on his back and let out a weak cough about ten minutes ago. Akira had no hope, he was hidden behind a bright blue pot, legs straining against his own weight, he had been here for a long time and was losing hope of getting out alive.

His phone was dead and buried in his pocket. The backup team to far away to message. He knew he was going to die if he moved to much or breathed too heavily. He was done for, his last message from Ryuji was simple and good, "Don't move."

He was going to die surrounded by tired and broken bodies of his team. If he couldn't keep them safe what good was he? What was his purpose if he couldn't even walk and kill this creature created on all the negative energy of one person.

His knee buckled…

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Prompto was used to an adrenaline rush every so often, when he was training with Gladio a little was needed to land even the whisper of a hit. This was a different kind of Adrenaline, that was a calmer and more contained rush. He knew he was safe and not going to end upshot in a back alley because someone saw blonde hair and automatically assumed he was a niff.

So he was running, weaving through back alleys and open roads, hair whipping around his face and tear tracks staining pale freckled cheeks. He had dropped his phone a few alleys back and hadn't had a chance to pick it up. They were about a street behind him, screaming and calling.

"Niff! Where are you?"

"Hey, kid come back here!"

He had no idea where he was heading, and he was getting lost now. The streets beginning to look more and more different and unfamiliar. He knew his apartment block was behind him by about a mile and that he was heading towards a dead end, they had spread out and could be anywhere.

Where was everyone? Why was no one on the streets? There should have been someone here to help. Or maybe they'd hid away instead not wishing to see his execution. He pushed himself faster against the rain beginning to fall.


Prompto's phone had fallen off the map about twenty minutes ago. It hadn't gone dead or anything just disappeared in the middle of the upper-class houses. Noctis was tearing his hair out with worry, people knew about the young prince's friend at a basic level but prejudice ran rampant in the streets. Ignis had laughed about his worry for his friend. It really hadn't helped. He was due at his apartment around an hour ago.

There was a ring on Ignis' phone.

He answered.

"Yes, hello? How can I help?" He was met with a crack and a scream, it was garbled and human into the receiver. Laughter... Then there was another voice on the end.

The voice was loud and violent, there was breathlessness too. "You this Niff's friends? Ha, you're probably just as disgusting," a spitting noise and a little whine, "you show up here we will kill you too" The line went dead.

"Iggy? What's up?" Noctis questioned having watched the colour drain from his advisors face. He was not given a response, Ignis was pulling on a coat and shoving on his shoes. Sprinting out of the door, hurrying to his car.

He tore out of the garage, heading in the direction of the last call to him.

Noctis had never crawled into a car while it was moving, this was a terrifying first. He was never doing it again. Ignis hadn't even noticed.

They arrived.

There was blood covering the street, it was weakened by the rainwater coming down like a torrent. There was a blonde figure slumped over in a black phone box. They knew who it was.

Prompto wasn't breathing. There was blood around him, the gun wound obviously in his sternum. But there were stab wounds along his arms and legs, cutting his jumper and staining it bright red. There was a thick red line along his neck, it was no longer bleeding...

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The room they had commandeered for the rest of the night wasn't big enough for the whole team to hide in comfortably. Mika had taken first watch for the sake of getting out of the room and the uncomfortable stares they would give him. He tolerated their presence as much as they tolerated him the stares of suspicion never quite fading away, although that had lessened the further they had all travelled together.

Yu had fallen asleep the moment they had set themselves up and Mika was desperate to talk to the human, he wished to express to him the feelings or lack of them was beginning to experience, the usual contempt for the human travelling party was disappearing and being replaced with an emptiness and a blank hole in his chest were these feelings should reside.

He wanted to scream and cry until there were permeant marks etched onto his face, deep grooves that looked like rainfall. At least then he was feeling and living, now he was no better than a monster.

Yuu watched Mika in the moonlight, head tilted back, scarlet eyes closed tightly. He looked like a prince from the story books. Painted in diamond light, it made Yuu's heart twist painfully. The serene view left him speechless. Mika radiated an indifference to the future now. He missed the boy who had laughed at silly jokes and played dumb pranks with the younger kids.

Yuu knew he was crying like a little child, the stress and worry from his days. The fact the nightmare he had just woken from felt like it was just behind him. The sight of his family, so emotionally dead and damaged because of his own failings, the tears rained down onto the concrete balcony.

Mika heard the person at the door, trying to muffle there sobs. He felt the curls of sympathy in his gut but it never became stronger than a slight caress from his senses. He knew he should turn and offer an ear to the crying human but he couldn't feel enough effort to.

Yuu was glad Mika hadn't heard his sobbing, he had retreated back inside hoping to fall asleep surrounded by his recent additions to his family. The emptiness of Mika scared him too much to dwell on. He buried himself underneath a blanket and slipped into an uneasy rest, mind focused on the drowning prince, dying in the moonlight.

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Hornet wasn't aware of how unprepared they were, Ghost had managed to land two single hits before the larger bug had attacked properly. The Hollow Knight had let out a terrible howl at the infection contained in its large body, the infection was spilling out of the shell, tears stained in orange. The Ghost had tried valiantly to fight the larger bug had fought well. But it seems the weight of its past, the charms decorating the small creature.

He had lasted barely any time at all, and from that moment the kingdom of Hollownest was lost forever. The infection spawned quickly, spores opening and plants growing, covered in the deep orange liquid. Hornet had fled, with her cape flying behind her. She had watched from far above as the poor creatures left alive, died under the threat of the infection. The Ghost becoming it's first solider, others had fallen much quicker.

She had tried once to do down into the ancient basin, only to find the entrance blocked off completely. The siblings trapped down there rebelling and fighting a war they will always lose to the infection. They had snarled at her and she had retreated to the safety of above.

She had convinced the Map Makers to leave and disappear into the wilds. They had obliged. Elder Bug had not. He had stayed even as the infection had bubbled up the well and began infecting the area around him. He had died on the iron wrought bench, sleeping as the infection continued to rise.

She had hoped the infection would stop there. Contained under the earth, trapped in the twisting and twirling tunnels of the old court.

It had not been...

She knew that once she left her sentience would disappear, she knew it would be slow and it would hurt. So she refused to leave. Even as the infection got closer and closer to her high above home. Her heart yearned for the deep nest. Even if there was none of her race still there, she could be happy in the knowledge she had died near the people she had loved. She could have also gone to the queens garden, to die with the closest link to her father and the brothers, trying valiantly to defeat the death of the world.

She remained even as the infection turned into a lake in which she could swim. There was no escape and the infection continued to spread to build. She would be dead before it ended.

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Noctis was used to scaring. Gladio was covered in thick lines and messy swirls from his training. Ignis was much the same, a messy few on his hands off when he was a child learning to cook for the first time. There was also the few decorating his front from his own training. His father was covered in them, like a patchwork quilt he had decorated everywhere. He wore them as a sense of pride. Then there was himself the long jagged scar along his back from his accident as a child. Prompto had no such scars.

There was no patchwork of cuts, or one lone messy scar upon his back. He was unmarried and had unbroken skin. It made Noctis happy. Then it all went wrong.

The kickback from his, guns began to bruise his shoulders, a rich purple. Then it healed. Then it appeared again like a sore on his shoulder. The perfect skin was marred again and again. Then there were fights, fights were blonde hair disappeared under the creatures that stole away in the night. Nights they would come out bruised and sore but alive because Prompto had rushed ahead to save them, nights where he would cry against his king's shirt. Cries of pain but happy that he had saved his king.

That back became marred and the pain never truly stopped. He was glad he was alive but the king was upset because of his guard's recklessness and the pale expanse of skin he loved so dearly became more and more marred and broken. As the king sat unable to affect his subject.

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O fuck was the only thought in his head. His hands were shaking and sight blurry. There were things before him vague shapes, a light purple figure and one in green. They were shimmery like angels or fairies. He knew they were speaking slightly voices quiet and loud at the same time, it was melodic and beautiful and he knew he was smiling along.

What was his name again? He was so unsure of everything... Where was he? What was the date? Why were the angels laughing and singing so sweetly? What was he wearing? Who was he?

He really didn't know. He thinks he feels panic curling in his gut. He's unsure. Maybe he's laughing, his throat is sore and tired. The angels are staring, it sways and shifts again. Then he's falling again.

Shinsou watched Kaminari with a detached feeling. He had zoned out truly, staring awkwardly at the space separating him and Izuku. He is talking to Izu after there fight, the villains hadn't been too difficult just there were so many people that were useless at fighting. He was bone tired, body heavy and lethargic. Izu was talking about his new gloves when it happened.

Kaminari had started laughing, not the usual happy and carefree laugh that reminded Hitoshi of ice cream on warm summer days, this laugh was horrible. Dry and cracking like a drought affecting the desert.

"Hey, Kami..." He isn't given a response, the laugh continuing. It gets wetter and more tired as it was grated on like sandpaper, "Denki, Denki!" Then his boyfriend falls. It isn't like the movies were people, put a small hand to there forehead and collapse to there knees slowly and prettily. Denki falls like plastic under a blowtorch, collapsing so quickly there is a split second worry that he's been shot. His head slams off of the floor and he rebounds slightly. His previously cloudy eyes are closed but not still. His eyes are moving beneath closed eyes, fliting and searching for something he no one can see.


Denki dreams of butterflies and birds.


The hospital told them it was quirk overuse, it was something Denki was well aware of, had been to the hospital for before. Had stood and lied to them about. Izuku had been told they were lucky he was still alive. The electric under his skin to much for his human body a quirk not truly suited for a human. Their lover was dying. He had told them nothing.

He was holding onto Denki, hands clasping one of Denki's own in his. He was praying into the skin. A small mantra of misguided hope for Denki, praying for Denki to stay, whispering it into the soft skin on his hands. Izuku was not truly religious, his mother loved going to church and visiting his grandparents grave. He wished he believed in God so that he knew that if... Denki died he would see him again. (That though choaked him, the fact that Denki might die not at home, or out in the field fighting, but wrapped in hospital blankets and sleeping. That a creature so beautiful and full of sunlight may die alone in rooms of white)


"Please, Denki... Stay with me."


Denki dreamed of home, of green and purple hair. Of an apartment. Of lighting. And He remembered.

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Sting had heard thousands of screams throughout his life. His father when he had died, his friend during long fights and worrying moments, the creatures that he killed with his magic the second before they had died, they all had there owned special type of pain. He also knew he had his own kind of scream. A long loud wail that ended in a grunt if he was in pain. He was never scared so he didn't scream like a schoolgirl. (Thank you, Minerva)

He wasn't used to hidden screams. He was hearing them now, muffled cries of hurt and fear. They should have been howls if they were not being muffled. They were coming from Rouge's room. He shuddered and knocked a fist against the door. There was a shuffling... The door opened a crack.

Rouge stood there, red eyes rimmed with crystalline tears they were puffy and made his usually slender face look misshapen and like he had been involved in a fight and had lost. He had a tight grip on his arm, the skin around it already bruised a deep wine-dark purple. Sting sucked breath in through his teeth. Arms coming up to touch the other dragon slayer. Separating the arms from each other, the wrist looked swollen and sore.

The dragon in Sting roared to claim and own the weakness in front of him. To claim and protect, he refused to let his animalistic nature win. Even as Rouge pushed himself into the other dragon slayers chest, he was crying and sobbing ruining a shirt.

The Screaming was back, the sound was louder now and more heartbroken, it curled into he ears like ice chilling him.

"Sting..." It was a whisper, pressed deep into a shoulder. "Sting, please it's behind me. This Shadow, it follows me wherever I go and I can't be rid of it. It's not my dragon instinct I know the wish to possess and own. This wants me to kill those it wants. I, " voice cracking and he let out another huge scream into the shoulder pushed against him. "Please, it wants me to hurt you. I never want to feel this again. Cut it out of me. I don't want this ever..."


Sting wished he had listened that night, had helped his friend to something better than the wasteland in front of him. This was his curse, the curse of his love. This was the future of the end of the world. And it was all his fault.

Chapter Text

"Sora!" Riku called hand outstretched towards the brunette. They were on a simple mission to the outskirts of Hollow Bastion and had turned the actions of the day into a game between the two of them. Sora had been laughing with him less than a minute ago. They had been dealing with weaker shadows here since they had fought organisation thirteen such a short time ago.

Sora was being held by one of the larger nobodies, it had wrapped a silver hand around his neck, it would be comical if it wasn't so horrifyingly awful to view, Sora had a very red face at this point and his eyes were rolled back into his head.

The only reason Riku even noticed the fact that Sora wasn't fighting had been the cut off scream leaving the younger boy moments before. He had turned to give a gibe to the younger boy only to see him dangling about a foot off of the air. His legs were kicking out trying to hit the nobody in vain and hands dropping a keyblade in hysteria rose, hitting the arm encasing his neck. They beat at it fully but had slowly gone feeble as Riku had raced over. The arms were now limp at his side and drool was leaking out an open mouth trying to suck in any semblance of air through a possibly crushed windpipe. Riku hit the nobody over its sort of head and it dropped Sora like a sack. He landed strangely even though the younger boy was gangly now he just looked wrong and lifeless.

He fought the nobody quickly and won, it hadn't been the hardest in the world and in certainly wasn't that much of a threat to him. Sora hadn't moved. He was still, not even in his sleep did he move so little everything about him was Ridgid. Like a corpse.

Riku cast Curaga. (Please don’t let this be what takes him out, I've only just got him back. Please, whatever is out there help him. I'm begging.)

Chapter Text

The mission had gone horribly wrong. It had been bad before it had begun. Lance had not expected it to be good or fun. Keith had smiled bright and happy before he had left, had picked Lance up spun him around and kissed him. It wasn't the first time but it now looked like the last. He had received a message on his old communicator an hour ago. It was a simple, I love you. Keith had sent it the name coming up as Samurai and he had felt like crying. He had phoned the garrison and hadn't been given any information on his husband. His hands had shaken like leaves in the wind.

So Lance waited, waited for news or even the whisper of information on what had happened on the mission. If his lover had died or if he was alive. He worried for Shiro and Pidge and Hunk and every person on this mission. It was supposed to be covert and hidden but they never know what had happened.

It took so long for him to be given any information on it, the seasons had changed several times before there was a knock at his door. Shiro stood at the other side, eyes red-rimmed and he looked so much older. Lance couldn't even look at him, could see the message written in every line of his body.

Keith was gone. He was not coming back.

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It is the job of the Crownsguard to test foods and drinks for the royal family, it was the one part of the job Prompto knew he didn't want to ever do, there was so much danger involved in it that he could barely fathom the feeling that might come to him if it went wrong. He knew he had to now though, they were in the capital of Nifflihiem and he couldn't let Noct drink the wine they had brought to them to drink with the meal which had already been tested. Noct had stared at him like he had grown an extra head, then realised his intention.

"Sorry, sorry, its tradition for the Crownsguard to drink the drinks from an opposing nation. I know its kinda rude so I'm really sorry but I have to due to the oath I swore. .I.. Hrm?" He didn't get the chance to finish, the room spun like he was on a merry-go-round and the world went dark and blood rushed to his head.

Noctis had been watching Prompto with disconnected laughter as he had gone a startling shade of bright red, looking almost like a tomato. He had kept apologising desperately and had begun rocking the way he did when he was nervous or scared. Then he had taken no more than a sip of the wine in front of them. He looked still really nervous, talked and mumbled a bit more stumbled through another apology and then he went paler like a vampire had begun sucking his blood or someone had spilt white paint onto his face. He had fallen like a sack of ledian peppers, his head smashing against the wooden desk and collapsing like a marionette with its strings cut. Slumping over.

The other guards jumped up like a shot, rushing forward to surround the prince but leaving Prompto out of the circle of protection. He felt like rushing forward and grabbing the prone form. He felt like crying properly, this was something from his worst nightmares, and worst dreams. His friend and almost-boyfriend, (He just needed to confess, to hand the flowers hidden in his quarters to the blonde boy and to kiss him senseless.)

They left him there on the ground. Had abandoned him like he was replaceable to get Noctis safe. He knew he had screamed once they had gotten onto there airship home, although not as fast or graceful as the Niff crafts there's did the same work just as easily.

He knows he ordered someone to retrieve Prompto but if anyone did he didn't know because he couldn't leave the space they had deposited him in. He then noticed them carrying the prone form of Prompto. He was completely lifeless, his chest not rising or falling, lying prone in somebody's arms.

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Homura was used to strange dreams and visions since the 16th, she had dreamed of a girl in pink, with the same ribbon she had tied in her hair. She would take it out after every time she dreamed of the girl, spun it around her hands and inspected it for the hope that its secrets are hidden in the thin piece of cloth. She hoped one day she would understand who the girl was who, smiled and laughed in her dreams. She knew she yearned of her but she could never understand it, the girl of her dreams.

She had asked Kyubey about them. He had called it a hallucination of dreams that she had forgotten. She couldn't call it by name. She had asked the others about they had laughed about her finally finding a girl

(then she became a witch and it all made sense and she loved Madoka and Madoka was her's forever and ever and nothing, no laws in the universe or any incubator can stop her from taking back what is hers. Even if it made her the opposite of the Law of Cycles, even if it meant she would kill a god... She would save Madoka from her fate worse than death.)

Chapter Text

Keith knew he wasn't going to live through this mission he knew the moment he had stepped off the ship he was going to die. The mission went wrong from the start when the doors opened and they were being fired on. He had hidden behind a crate and hoped that this was just a fluke and they had mistaken the ship for another. They obviously hadn't. They kept firing. The mission obviously being a bust of all kinds. The Galra no longer under the thumb of any kind of emperor had been fighting thousands of skirmishes around the universe this seemed like there handy work. One of the higher tribes trying to crush those it deemed unworthy and then others had shown up, and they had taken them off guard.

A shot hit the crate and chipped a bit off, Keith's ears were ringing like a phone. He was watching the other people on his team and trying to find the best solution for this mess, firing wildly to the other side from a gun he wasn't really sure how to use.

Someone collapsed at his feet, a name bubbled up inside him. He knew they were already dead even before he had called out a name.

They lasted less than twenty minutes all told. Before the enemy managed to lodge three lasers in his back. He knew then that there was no hope. Blood pooled at the wounds it looked black in the light around them, the wounds had semi cauterized in areas from the blast and he couldn't even feel his legs anymore. There was a single sigh before he collapsed. Blood continued to flood out of his body. It didn't stop even when the shooting did. Or when They set the ships alight. His message flying through the era for his lover waiting for him safe at home.

Chapter Text

Any fight was dangerous, that was common knowledge to the Phantom Thieves they were used to terrible and dangerous odds and death-defying stunts. They were used to horrible odds stacked against them. It had never been this bad they had strode out on simple recon and basic fights with shadows. They were not ready for this.

It was a basic fight against some Naga in mementos, and Fox was brought further than his knees. He had been swaying like a leaf in the wind for most of the trip, he had brushed off there worries with a smirk and laugh. Akira wished he had pushed it. They didn't struggle to beat the Naga even without the support from Fox. He was prone on the floor, and it struck fear into there hearts to see him that way. They managed to carry him into Morgana and buddle him in some blankets. Ann placed a comforting hand onto Yusuke 's knee and Haru wrapped her small arm around his shoulders. Blue hair was lying in front of his face in the way that always annoyed his the pretty painter. Futaba swept it behind his ear sweetly and pressed a kiss to his forehead. Yusuke was burning up, a flush rising onto pale cheeks, it would usually bring happiness to the team to see him embarrassed.

Akira moved to sit on the other side, checking his temperature and wincing at the heat radiating off the usually cold-blooded boy. He noticed a growing patch of liquid growing on the fabric of his jumpsuit, it was at the same moment as Ryuji did. He unzipped the jumpsuit slowly as if afraid of what he might see.

"Aw fuck," the emergence of a rare fuck caught them off guard. They looked down not sure what to expect. There was a gash along the painters mid-section. It was long and deep. It pulsed a dark deep red and was bleeding sluggishly, but that wasn't what was concerning. There was yellow pus leaking out of the cut, it stunk of deep rotten decay and Akira was nearly sick. The damage so bad, no healing spell could realistically help, it would just heal over the wound already there and make it worse.

"How did we miss this? How did this happen, when did it happen?" Morgana asked, voice heavy with worry. The others shook there heads in worry...

What were they supposed to do to help...