One Thousand and One AUs

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Post by Death is... kinda hot on Sat Sep 13, 2014 9:42 pm

Yay!

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Post by no mom its ironic on Sun Sep 14, 2014 9:29 pm

the notes are chaos and yet we still play

prologue: a lullaby that he might sleep

He is not entirely sure when the thought first occurred to him. Perhaps it was when their father first called them to him and said, in a shaking voice, he was going to die soon. He seemed but a ghost, his skin too pale and his hair too thin and his words trembling like the branches of a tree in the wind. He rubbed a thumb over his father’s hand and it felt like thin paper; he stared into his father’s eyes and they looked dead already.

Perhaps it was when he came to visit his brother, his brother with the smiling eyes, his brother with the warm grin and the soft voice that made people trust him—until they saw the color of his eyes, at least. He had children, his brother—two girls, one still but a child, the other a woman now. His brother was always so kind. Too kind.

His brother’s eldest daughter yelled that day, fought that day. He does not remember why; only that no matter what hateful words came out of her mouth, no matter how loud her voice was, it was only tears that sprung. His brother did not yell. His brother would not yell. His voice was only soft and forgiving, gentle, loving.

No; yelling was too harsh for him, too harsh for this gentle being. So when Valon imagined his brother Veren, his kind, gentle brother, inheriting the power of their father, he could not. He could only imagine Veren letting his daughter sit on his lap, no matter how big she was now and how his wife would chide him and say he spoiled the girl. He could only imagine Veren’s voice which he could not remember ever being raised into a shout.

So instead he imagined himself.

Valon had wanted this power. He had wanted it for a long time. Chaos flowed in his veins already, yes, but he could not imagine the scope of what would come if he inherited the title. Perhaps it would not be the feeling of power lingering there; instead it would just be power, filling him, permeating him, until he was Chaos. He wanted to know what it would feel like and at times he would curse his brother for standing in his way.

Perhaps, perhaps, the thought first came to him when he was staying in his brother’s home and a letter flew in, a letter from their father. The writing was shaky and uncertain, and ink blots were sporadically scattered over the page, forming erratic punctuation across the off-white surface of the paper. It was not written to both of them; it was written to Veren and Veren alone.

Immediately his brother lost his grin and stood from his seat, saying comforting words to his daughters, only one of which seemed to notice he was there. The other, the one who had yelled, looked away from her father and did not hear him. Nevertheless he continued to spew comfort from his mouth; there was nothing to worry about, Grandpa just wanted to talk—

With him, and him alone.

Yes, perhaps it was then. Perhaps it was then, because he remembers—his fingers recalled how his father’s skin had turned to paper, his ears rang with the way his father’s voice shook and wavered and rose and fell as if it were the ocean in a storm. He remembers closing his eyes and breathing in and he remembers—

He remembers something but he does not remember something. It was a whisper in the back of his head, one that seemed to just not quite reach his ears and yet it firmly lodged itself in his thoughts there.

Was that the thought? Was that when the idea occurred to him—was that when he remembered how his father had taught him of swords and fighting and how when you clashed with an opponent your swords were singing? Was that when he remembered how he had fought with his brother and the clang of swords resounded through the room and in the end his brother would always win? But of course he would, he was older than him, stronger than him.

But then, he remembered that if they had not been so honourable, then he would have won.

Was that when he realized he did not care for music? When his father’s voice told him of blades singing and yet all he heard was the sighing of the wind through the trees?

It did not really matter when the thought had occurred to him, and yet he felt it did.

Now that he thought about it, it seemed dishonorable that he had not crafted a song of blades with his brother, that he had not composed a lullaby for Veren; a lullaby, that he might sleep. But, to be truthful, Valon did not care about honor. He cared about power; the power that was within his grasp if only his brother was gone.

So he waited. He waited until his brother was back, until Veren came through the door, shedded his coat, and sat down at the table and—he sat there, in silence.

It had taken Veren hours to return, and Valon had faked sleep, had told his nieces and his sister-in-law that he was going to bed and he waited for them to go to sleep as well. And then he snuck down and he found that Veren’s wife had left a bowl of soup, grudgingly given a lick of flame by her daughter that kept it warm.

So, gently, he had exited the house and found the woman’s garden and laughed for her own plants would be her husband’s death. Briefly he wondered if the woman truly only grew these plants for their looks, but she seemed to be an angel on earth, and certainly looked one, with golden hair and sky-blue eyes. Certainly, she could not have malicious intentions. Valon, however, did.

It only took one seed, but he had to be certain, so with his magic he collected all that he could and scattered them throughout the soup. He gently put the lid over the bowl back and he hid, he hid as well as he could, almost not breathing, almost not daring to open his eyes as Veren walked through the door and took off his coat and sat down at his seat with a deep sigh. He picked up the note his wife had left him and smiled.

And Valon watched, and he waited, and he hardly dared to breathe, and then—

Veren was dead.

It was too quick, too easy. Valon barely kept himself from laughing at his brother, his brother whose eyes were now glassed over, whose heart no longer beat. His brother who would never yell, who would never be harsh. His brother, who was too kind for the title of Chaos Lord.

Quickly, Valon went to work. He emptied the bowl, leaving only a few drops of soup inside the bowl, dispersed the flame inside its ceramic, folded the note back up, and then he picked up his brother and carried him outside.

It did not take him long to go far away, so far that Valon knew it would never occur to them to look for Veren there. It took but a few minutes for him to bury his brother, and at the end the ground looks as if it was never disturbed.

And yet, even though Valon knew he was one step closer to getting what he wants, there was something in his heart that made him want to say goodbye. That made him want to sing a lullaby to the man lying beneath the ground, the man who was too gentle to be so powerful.

He wanted to sing a lullaby that he might sleep. But instead he hardened his heart and he went back to the house of the man he killed and he clambered into his bed. And Valon closed his eyes, and he went to sleep.

aka i really liked the idea of an au where saivel killed valon and became chaos lord herself so here's valon killing veren

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Post by no mom its ironic on Mon Sep 15, 2014 1:40 am

Chapter Three: Call

“Venia?” Saivel asked nervously as the darkness enveloped the two. It almost seemed to swallow up her voice, ravenous for all it could find. She swallowed nervously.

“I’m like, a foot from you. I think.” Saivel could practically hear Venia shrug. “Can you make a light?” Venia reached out into the deep, dark black and felt soft feathers beneath her fingers. Saivel flinched and stepped away quickly, soon becoming visible as a flame formed in her hand, allowing them both to see just a little of the area surrounding them.

“Have some fire,” Saivel said, and Venia scooped a little from Saivel’s palm, adding a little so that their combined light allowed the duo to see further.

Past the orange glow of their fires, neither could see anything. What they could see was relatively little; the floor appeared to be made of some sort of cracked, almost unnaturally smooth grey stone, dried weeds and dead grass having sprouted from between those cracks. Venia leaned down to touch it and—she paused, knelt down further, and pressed her ear to the ground.

“Saivel, this place is humming,” she said, concern in her voice and a frown clear on her face. Saivel did not reply. There was no sarcastic remark or serious response, just silence that unnerved Venia. “Saivel?”

“Wha?” Saivel appeared startled, shock registering on her face for just a fraction of a moment, her wings tensing slightly, before her gaze hurriedly shifted over to Venia. “I’m sorry I—” She sighed and blinked. “What were you saying?”

Venia did not appear convinced Saivel was alright, the corners of her mouth gently turning down, but she spoke anyway. “Put your ear to the ground,” she commanded, pointing. Saivel looked at her, confused. “Seriously, Saivel.”

Shrugging, Saivel did as she was told and pressed her ear against the stone of the ground. “What?...” Her words trailed off and Venia was not sure what to say in reply as Saivel lifted her head from the ground and stood, brushing dust off of her knees.

“I don’t know what that is but I know that…” Venia glanced at Saivel’s eyes, which seemed… different than usual. Out of focus, somewhat, as if Saivel were somewhere else. “Hey, Saivel? You there?”

“Oh shit—” Saivel seemed to realize Venia was there next to her. She offered a smile, but it was forced.

“That is the second time you have tuned out on me in less than a minute. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Saivel shrugged, tilting her head slightly. “I feel fine, I just…” She looked vaguely in another direction. “…I want to go that way.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” Venia could hear the confusion in Saivel’s voice. “I don’t really know if I want to go—really want to go.”

“That sounds kind of concerning,” Venia said. “Maybe we should head back?”

“No, let’s go.” Saivel saw Venia open her mouth to say something but shushed her with a wave of her hand. “Just keep me from doing anything crazy if it turns out I’m being slowly brainwashed or something.” Saivel could tell Venia did not appreciate her joke. For all they knew, after all, it could be a reality.

“Alright,” Venia said reluctantly, gesturing for Saivel to lead the way. She began walking forward slowly into the darkness, before something occurred to Venia. “How will we find a way back?”

“Fair point,” Saivel admitted, turning to face the younger girl. “Maybe leave a light at the entrance?”

“How? We can’t sustain one indefinitely, now can we?” Venia snapped, annoyed and confused. “Do you have something to burn?”

“…No…” Saivel admitted. “Look, I’ll leave my flame. It may not last forever but it should last long enough.”

Venia sighed. Somehow she had turned from the one who usually needed to be kept from wandering off to the caretaker. Saivel took this as agreement and put her flame down on the ground.

Now let’s go,” she said, and the two began to walk together, Venia closely following Saivel. They walked together in silence for too long, the time stretching out and becoming indistinguishable. Perhaps it was a minute, perhaps an hour.

It still took too long before they came to a dim white light at the top of a stairwell, all of which also appeared to be made out of the same cracked grey stone which seemed almost drained of whatever color it might have had before. Concerned at Saivel’s silence, Venia spoke softly. “Saivel?”

“Uh—” Saivel jumped a little. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“Okay,” Venia said, not really believing her. She wasn’t really there, the younger girl could tell. It was unusual for Saivel to tune out someone unless they had given her a reason to ignore them. Something just felt wrong.

“Let’s head down then, unless you’ve got an objection?”

Venia shook her head. “No.” Saivel nodded and began to walk down the stairwell, her steps echoing in the emptiness of the place. Everything about this seemed to set Venia on edge and some part of her told her that they should head back and they should not be going down, they should be getting away from wherever the hell they were. Venia took a breath and closed her eyes, her free hand finding the railing. She opened her eyes and looked around.

Down we go, she thought to herself, and somewhat reluctantly descended down the stairwell after Saivel.

The stairwell, just like the path they had taken to it, seemed to go on for too long, time distorted by its very existence. The air hung heavy in the air, cloying and dense, as if it had not been breathed in years. It had likely not been breathed in years, Venia realized, and a chill crept down her spine. She hurried her space so that she might keep Saivel in her sight.

As they descended, turning round and round so many times Venia lost count, she would occasionally say something. It would just be Saivel’s name, or just a ‘You there?’ and every time Saivel would respond, sometimes a little startled, but always slightly annoyed.

“Lords Venia,” she said after the umpteenth time, “I’m not going to disappear if you don’t speak to me.”

Venia wasn’t entirely sure about that, but afterwards she kept her mouth shut, if she did make sure to trail behind Saivel just a little closer.

After some time, an amount of time Venia could not bother counting or wondering about or even thinking about, they came to the end of the stairwell. Quickly Venia called out for Saivel to stop, as she suddenly realized that perhaps—if she did not—Saivel would continue walking forwards.

Saivel did not. “Alright,” she said, and stopped, turning around to face Venia.

As Venia came down to stop by Saivel, she looked around. Everything still seemed to be composed of the same grey stone and Venia longed for some color. It felt as if the place was dead. It was, kind of, Venia realized.

“Which direction do you want to go now?” Venia asked, turning to face Saivel.

It did not even take her a second to decide. “This way.” She began walking, Venia following after her for fear of losing her friend in the dark. She followed the bright, white wings which stretched out, at times the only part of Saivel she could see with the little light she had.

Eventually, they came upon another light, still overlooking the same gray stone. Venia quickly said, “Stop!” as forcefully as she could, and it took just a second’s delay for Saivel to do as she was told. Saivel rolled her eyes and stopped, allowing Venia time to look around the room.

There was another stairwell, she saw, in the middle of the circular area. It must go down further.

Venia did not want to go down further. She swallowed and looked to Saivel. “You wanna go down?”

“Yes. No.” Saivel ran her hand through her hair. “…I don’t really know.”

“I don’t really know either. Are you sure we should go down? We could probably investigate on this floor—”

“No, whatever it is, it’s down there.” Saivel looked towards the stairwell. “I can hear its call.”

For some reason, that sent a shiver down Venia’s spine and she swallowed, yet her mouth was still dry.

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Post by no mom its ironic on Mon Sep 15, 2014 1:50 am

next chapters totally gonna transition to kaime and fuse because i am a really cool person <:

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Post by Death is... kinda hot on Mon Sep 15, 2014 9:56 am

That's cool.

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Post by no mom its ironic on Mon Sep 15, 2014 10:56 pm

chapter one: a funeral march for a man marching to his end


It was a surprise to him that he was surprised.

The first few days, he had been careful of an attack like this, paranoid and watching every nook and cranny for someone to leap out and attack him. Wherever he went, his sword would go, always by his side, his hand always twitching whenever he saw someone move unexpectedly. He supposed that perhaps, the long wait was because she wanted to verify her suspicions. Or perhaps it was because she had wanted him to let his guard down.

Either way, he had let his guard down. He had let his sword stray from his side; sometimes he would even forget it existed at all, feeling safe and secure, his position as heir to the title of Chaos Lord something that was now a fact. It was something that could not be challenged or changed, even though that was Chaos’ very nature. Valon should’ve known better; he should’ve known that for all her shouts and yells and impulsiveness, the girl was smarter than he thought she was.

He had felt her eyes on him, watching him; dark purple eyes that seemed to carry just a hint of her mother’s blue. They were darker than her father’s eyes, and she herself seemed darker than her father, her skin tanned by the sun, her voice quick to become loud and her face able to contort into fearsome anger. Valon in his arrogance had brushed that constant stare off; perhaps it was simply how he was told he looked like his brother, though he himself saw no similarities between them.

They had the same purple eyes and dark hair, that was true, but there was something different in the form of their faces. Valon could never quite place it; somehow Veren’s face seemed natural, warm, as if he were the major key and Valon his relative minor. People never seemed to trust him as they did his brother. Veren grew his hair long, too, while Valon could never stand black strands falling in front of his eyes.

The girl Saivel was nothing like her father, Valon thought. She was foolish, but she was not as trusting. She was loyal, and yet she let few close to her. But there was one thing they had in common—

They believed in the music of blades.

Valon could see it, somehow, when he saw the girl fighting, sparring with the creature from the forest. There was no ring of steel and yet there was a rhythm, there were dynamics, a fortissimo and then a decrescendo until the song wound down. Veren fought with that rhythm too, a rhythm that Valon could not hear. He was deaf to this world of bladesong that his father spoke of as key. Surely it could not be key, for he thought himself an excellent swordsman, and an excellent swordsman must know what is key. Valon did not know bladesong, and he did not care.

There was something unnerving about that time he watched her fighting with the forest creature, something odd about the ‘song’ his father would likely have said they were making with the clash of blunted wooden swords. He felt as if, somehow, it was about him, as if every blow was one that meant his name. Valon could not pin down what made him feel so chilled by that.

It was a funeral march for a man marching to his end, some part of him said. He laughed, quietly. He was not marching to his end. He had secured a new beginning, a beginning that could not be taken from him. The only man marching to his end was his father. Valon planned to get rid of the only thing that could take what he had earned the moment this vast power was given to him.

He waited for that moment, longed for that moment. Valon did not even care that it would come when his father was dead, he cared only for the gift that was going to be bestowed upon him, the power that would run through his veins. It drove him mad because he could not wait. He had waited for long enough. He deserved this.

Veren did, said some part of him, but Valon shut it up quickly and erased the thought from his mind. Veren had not deserved the power of Chaos Lord. He had not deserved death either; but he had not deserved to become Chaos Lord. Valon did.

So what if his father did not seem to believe that? If it seemed that the old man was trying to slow his death—if it seemed he was keeping this gift from Valon? So what if his father withdrew from his touch and it seemed like he really had died when Veren was gone and what was left was a shell?

So what if his father had said that Veren deserved music to bring him to sleep and that had made Valon remember how he had wanted for a reason beyond reason to sing a lullaby?

Perhaps it was fear that kept him from expecting her; perhaps it was the feeling that no, no, this close to his victory nothing could stop him. It was foolish trying to deceive himself, and yet he succeeded.

She came crashing into his window and for a moment he thought that there is a greater god and he has seen my sins before he realized that what had shattered the glass into shards was a demon with angel’s wings.

“Go to hell,” she whispered, and he laughed, looking into those dark purple eyes. They seemed black in this light, endless pits of darkness that extended forever. He was seeing hell in those eyes.

Perhaps he was going to go there.

“See you there,” he hissed, and he was lucky that his sword was nearby; he snatched it, still sheathed, from the hook on the wall and she did not give him a second before attacking.

Her force caught him off guard, and Valon stumbled backwards, his foot colliding with the leg of his chair. The steel of her sword was strong, but he was stronger than her and pushed back, giving himself just enough time to unsheathe his sword.

Valon realized he was at a disadvantage. She had armor; he did not. Wings sprouted from her back but he wanted to spare his magic until he felt it was truly necessary. She was fighting for revenge and he had heard a funeral march for a man marching to his end. It was him, he thought with a laugh he barely managed to hold back. She was going to be his end.

Well, perhaps he could be hers too, he thought, and struck, his blade meetings hers, the clang of steel against steel resounding in his ears as he heard it for the first time. It made him stop for a moment because he heard it, Valon heard the rhythm and the music—he heard bladesong, pure and sweet and playing a song of his death.

That one moment almost cost him his life as she intended to take the opportunity, but Valon swiftly blocked her. She stepped back, not intending to waste her energy fruitlessly, and he studied her for the moment it was till she struck again.

Their blades rang and sang together, but his song was weaker than hers. He heard the tinkling of glass shards beneath his feet—Valon was being forced towards the window, and this room was up high. Was that how she intended to kill him? Did she not know he could make himself wings and fly off, that that would be the opportunity he needed to never be seen again?

She did know—she was less foolish than he thought. Saivel charged into him with her shoulder, forcing him to lurch sideways and lose his balance and he barely managed to keep her blade from plunging into his throat. Valon could not keep himself from laughing. She was strong and he had only heard bladesong for the first time.

It was the same song, a funeral march for a man marching to his own death. A funeral march for him.

He did not suppose they would play anything of the sort when he was dead.

Her blade was closer now, he felt the cold tip against his throat. “You don’t deserve it,” he whispered, not daring to go any louder.

She smiled a smile without any humor and his faltered in turn. “He did,” she whispered, and Valon could not keep his hand from trembling—

And he was dead.

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Post by no mom its ironic on Mon Sep 15, 2014 10:59 pm

two deaths in as many chapter-y things. off to a great start folks

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Post by Death is... kinda hot on Tue Sep 16, 2014 10:25 am

A very great start, indeed.

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Post by no mom its ironic on Thu Sep 18, 2014 12:45 am

one day, someday, i will get control of my brain and no longer produce weirdass ideas.

today is not that day.

Fuse tended to wake up earlier than the others and go downstairs to munch on some bread and maybe read a book in the living room. This time he regretted that decision because, at the time, he wasn't entirely certain whether he was going insane or what his eyes told him was happening was actually happening.

He had just been browsing the collection of books they'd amassed from stops at cities when suddenly he heard a noise.

This noise was no ordinary noise, no; it was a wheezing, groaning sort of noise, incredibly out of place and yet at the same time soothing. Fuse immediately looked around, scanning the area for anything that could be making this sound--

He squinted suspiciously.

That was a blue box, and the blue box was in his Citadel, and the blue box said 'Police Public Call Box,' and he was not entirely certain if he was going insane or not.

Fuse pinched himself and a man came out of the box. His clothes were... odd and out of place, to say the least, with brown hair and a bounce in his step.

Now, normally Fuse was not one for cursing; that was something Saivel did and occasionally Venia if she was particularly mad, but something so inexplicable and unnerving practically required cursing.

"What the fuck?"

At this the man turned around, taking in everything around him with a quick glance. He opened his mouth but nothing came out for a moment before he said, quite simply, "Ah."

'Ah' was not an explanation for what Fuse had just witnessed. "Who the hell are you? What are you doing in my Citadel?"

"I... am the Doctor," began the man, looking slightly unnerved, "and I am terribly sorry, really very sorry. If you would allow me, I will just--" He gestured towards the weird blue box he'd come out of-- "pop right back in to my, ah, ship, and leave."

After this 'the Doctor' promptly turned and began to walk back into the blue box, but Fuse managed to stop being very confused at it all for long enough to hold the man back with a hand of chaos energy.

At this the Doctor turned back, confusion clear on his face, looking at the hand on his shoulder and then at Fuse. Oh--he must not know who he was, then. That explained a little but not half of it.

"Ah--" Fuse withdrew the hand quickly. "I'm sorry, you must not know--I'm Fuse, the, uh, new Chaos Lord." He smiled weakly.

"I apologize for the shock but--you can't just--you can't just--" Fuse covered his face with his hand to think about what to say, then removed it with a sigh. "You can't just... teleport or whatever you did onto the Citadel by accident. For that matter, your--" The Doctor had called it a 'ship' but Fuse had never seen anything like it-- "Your ship. What the--what is it?"

"Ah yes, uh, Chaos Lord Fuse--" The Doctor hastily stuffed something he had just taken out of his pocket back in. "Well," he began, drawing out the word as he looked around the place, his eyes suddenly halting as he looked out the window.

"Hm?"

Suddenly the Doctor was grinning, looking like a child. He would get along well with Venia, Fuse thought to himself.

"We're flying!" He exclaimed, that massive grin still on his face. He pointed out the window as if Fuse could not see it.

Fuse smiled an exasperated smile. "Yes, the Citadel is flying." It seemed he would not be getting any answers out of the man for now. He could probably do with calling Saivel or Venia or Kaime down so he would certain he was not having a strange dream or just going insane.

And anyway, the mystery of whoever the hell this 'Doctor' was could wait until Fuse had actually eaten something.

'what the hell elder?' thats a good question. ask brain-elder

'lol fuck you'-brain elder 2014

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Post by no mom its ironic on Thu Sep 18, 2014 12:52 am

als odonT EXPECT ME TO CONTINUE THIS ISJ UST WANTED TO GET IT OUT OF MY BRAIN

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Post by Death is... kinda hot on Thu Sep 18, 2014 11:44 am

Aww, I like the idea of Xia Who.

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Post by no mom its ironic on Thu Sep 18, 2014 7:30 pm

tbh i dont think i can write eleven in character. i dont have a plot either

*shrug*

this might become a thing eventually tho?

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Post by no mom its ironic on Thu Sep 18, 2014 11:01 pm


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Post by no mom its ironic on Fri Sep 19, 2014 4:08 am

i am a weak person

Fuse figure that, if he was going to be showing the Doctor around the Citadel, he should start with introducing the man to its other inhabitants. He certainly seemed harmless enough. Anyway it looked like he really had landed in the middle of the living room entirely by accident in that... ship of his.

With a grunt Fuse stood and gestured for the Doctor to follow him as he walked over to the staircase. The Doctor, still wearing that grin on his face, strode along almost as if he was bouncing. He took in everything he could as if he was absorbing the place into his eyes.

"I thought I should begin your tour around the Citadel by introducing you to my, uh, friends who live here too," Fuse explained as he left the staircase and began walking down a hallway. "I don't think they'll be too upset about being woken up." Well, Kaime at least, the Chaos Lord thought to himself.

The Doctor nodded, his head bobbing in an almost comical fashion. "So... how does this," he gestured vaguely with his hands, "this Citadel of yours stay... afloat?" He lingered on the word for a while, uncertain.

" I'm not really sure," Fuse admitted with a sigh. "It's been the property of the Chaos Lords for... a long time, I believe, so I don't really know all its inner workings. The best explanation I can give you is magic."

"Magic!" The Doctor's grin widened, if that was even possible. He turned to the side as if to remark upon this to someone, but then realized there was no one there. Well, he had only been a few minutes in this place and it was already proving to be quite exciting. Chaos Lords and magic!

"Ah--here we are," Fuse said, turning the corner into another room furnished with several chairs and couches. Along the four walls were doors, one slightly ajar--his room. For a moment, he stood there, wondering who to introduce the Doctor to first. Eventually he decided on Kaime. With a few steps he moved over to Kaime's door and knocked. There was no response, so he yelled, "Kaime!"

"Come in!" He heard Kaime shout from below. The spirit must have gone down the staircase to the area they had set as the garden. Beckoning for the Doctor to follow, Fuse entered the room.

"Kaime is down in the garden right now, so we should probably go find him. He spends most of his time there, actually. Makes sense--he is a forest spirit after all." Fuse took a swift look around the room before walking out to the balcony, which had a staircase leading down into the garden.

The Doctor felt this would have been a perfect timed to turn to someone next to him and remark, a forest spirit! We're going to meet a forest spirit! but was reminded once again that, for the time being, he was companionless. He breathed in and followed Fuse into the garden.

A black-haired, green-eyed man knelt over the plants, water coming from seemingly nowhere bubbling up from the ground. He was fairly slender, with darker skin and somehow the way he moved was reminiscent of a cat. This must be Kaime. The man looked up and immediately looked confused.

"Who's this?" Kaime asked, turning around fully. Fuse cleared his throat and pointed both to Kaime and the Doctor.

"Doctor, this is Kaime. Kaime, this is the Doctor." Fuse paused. "The Doctor is here on the Citadel entirely by accident. I thought it was only polite to show him around."

"Alright," Kaime said, bemused. "But..." He stopped for a moment to think his words over. "Doctor? Doctor who?"

At this the Doctor could not help but laugh. "Just the Doctor." That never seemed to get old.

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Post by no mom its ironic on Fri Sep 19, 2014 4:11 am

now I'm gonna go to sleep

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Post by Death is... kinda hot on Fri Sep 19, 2014 9:43 am

some asshole wrote:hey fuckos

https://imgur.com/kgTBRf1,Gy4Uhay

Am I a hamster?

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Post by no mom its ironic on Fri Sep 19, 2014 10:45 pm

...yes.

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Post by Death is... kinda hot on Fri Sep 19, 2014 11:10 pm

Cool.

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Post by no mom its ironic on Sat Sep 20, 2014 3:26 am

ok so i had an idea for vampire fuse which andrew suPPORTED resulting in this

One Thousand and One AUs - Page 12 RI9qDEz

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Post by no mom its ironic on Sat Sep 20, 2014 4:09 am

Aka fuse going 'fuck that isn't my blood' because he tried to keep from feeding on a human being, but hunger got the better of him

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Post by Death is... kinda hot on Sat Sep 20, 2014 11:02 am

Ohhhhh snap.

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Post by no mom its ironic on Sun Sep 21, 2014 2:55 am

i dont know why i wrote this

forget-me-please

"Arthur." The king's voice was soft and gentle, such that for a moment his general did not even hear him, absorbed in whatever book he was reading. "Arthur," he repeated, louder now.

"Hm?" Arthur started, a little surprised. He looked up at the king. "Yes, your majesty?"

"Don't you think you've been working long enough? It's already fairly late in the afternoon and you've been here since dawn."

"Well, I was just reading up on--" Arthur began to gesture at the several books in front of him regarding strategy and the like, but the king shushed him with a wave of dismissal. The general started to open his mouth, but sighed and decided to remain silent.

"There's no need for that. You're extremely competent and, anyway, there's no battles to fight. Not now, anyway," he said when he saw that Arthur was going to speak.

"Your majesty," Arthur replied, his voice strained, "with all due respect, our Orderstone--"

"Is a very valuable resource, and sought after by many?" The king sighed. "I know this, Arthur, but you can take one afternoon off, can't you?" He walked over to the window and opened the curtains, looking outside at the blue sky where there were only traces of fluffy clouds. "It's a beautiful day today and I wouldn't want you to miss it needlessly."

"It's not needless," Arthur said under his breath. Nonetheless, the king still heard him, turning round to face his general.

"It is." Arthur opened his mouth to speak again, and once again the king shushed him. "But if you are going to be difficult--then I order you to take the afternoon off. Go walk around the city. What use is it defending people you don't know?"

Arthur considered protesting but realized it would be of no use, and the king did have a point. Somewhat. With a sigh, he reluctantly nodded. "As you wish, your majesty," he said, standing picking up the books to put them away. The king smiled at his general's back. Arthur was a good man, if he was a bit too serious.

After he had returned the books to their proper place, Arthur decided to part with his armor as well. He looked at himself in the mirror--short brown hair, brown eyes, a white shirt and black trousers--he looked like any citizen of Xia, really, he thought to himself with a laugh as he slung his bag across his shoulder.

Arthur did not really know why the king had insisted upon him spending the afternoon in the city; he did not understand half of what the king did, to be honest. Still, there was no doubt in his mind that the king was a good man and his superior, in any case. But he did not like to feel as if he were shirking his duty.

Ah well; there was nothing to be done about an order. It had been a while since he had had a free day, Arthur realized. And it did seem like a nice day outside. Perhaps he did have a reason to be grateful to the king. Despite that thought, he still left the castle gates rather reluctantly, the guards looking at him a little oddly as he left.

Uncertain of what to do, he decided to simply walk about the city. People did not recognize him without his armor, he realized as they brushed past him as if he were a standard civilian. Despite himself he instinctively kept a tight hold on his bag. Xia was a good place, but no place was without crime.

Street vendors were yelling over one another, offering snacks and treats and knick knacks and all sorts of items which the general doubted he needed, politely refusing whenever he was offered, though he did give in to a sweet eventually. The vendor looked at him oddly as the general handed over some coins.

"Have I seen you before?" the man asked. Arthur laughed.

"I don't believe so," he said, and the vendor shrugged and left it at that.

Eventually he left the hustle and bustle of the streets and found himself in an emptier place of the city which, despite the warmth and light of the rather pleasant afternoon, somehow still seemed dark. Oh. How had he wound up here, where the buildings seemed ready to collapse at any moment? No one was outside, he noted, not that he could see, at least--

Except for a woman who was sitting on an old wooden bench by the side of the street, a wide-brimmed straw hat with a red ribbon casting her face in shadow as she looked around, fidgeting with some flowers she held in her hand the general could not identify. She had long, straight black hair which was let down, cascading over her shoulders and almost halfway down her back. Her clothes seemed out-of-place in this neighborhood.

Her dress was long-sleeved and the skirt reached almost to the soles of her boot-clad feet even as she sat there, cross-legged. The bodice was a jet black and the sleeves and skirt white, though they were edged with purple, and then gold. Most of her face was concealed in shadow, but her pursed lips were thin and he could make out a pointed nose. Her eyes, though--those he could not distinguish. They only seemed to be a dark color, sweeping over the place until finally they rested on him. She looked startled, almost jumping.

"Milady--" Arthur held out both of his hands to indicate he meant no ill will. "I am sorry to have startled you, I was merely--I was merely wondering what someone who is clearly..." He paused for a moment to consider his next words.

"You wonder why I am here?" she asked bluntly, smirking just a little bit. She looked down at the flowers in her hand. They were a very light shade of blue that he seemed to recognize, but could not quite place.

"Well... yes," the general admitted sheepishly.

She laughed now, a rather unladylike laugh. It was soft, yes, but the sound was anything but gentle. "Do not worry, sir. I am perfectly well."

"You say so, but... Xia is a good place, but no place is safe. And this place... even less so." Arthur scanned the area to see if there was anyone nearby, but there seemed to be no one.

"I will leave soon anyway," she muttered. "But if you are so concerned, then come sit with me."

After a pause, Arthur shrugged and walked over to her in long, fast steps, eventually sitting down a few inches away from her.

She looked forward, but her eyes did not seem to be focusing on anything, and still the shadow of her hat meant he could not make our their color. "It's a wonderful day today, isn't it?" She turned to the general and smiled, but his eyes were on the flowers, his face clearly one of concentration. "But you're looking at my flowers, instead of the sky."

"I'm sorry," he apologized quickly. "I, I just... I know I've seen them before but I can't remember exactly where, or what they are."

The lady smiled. "Funnily enough, they're forget-me-nots," she said, laughing again. "My mother gave me them." He laughed too.

"That is funny," he said, then paused. "Look at me, laughing with a stranger. If you don't mind me asking... what's your name?"

Her eyes looked down at her flowers and she turned her face away from him. There was silence for a moment, and he wondered what reason she would have not to tell him her name.

"It doesn't matter," she said softly. "I will be leaving now, anyway."

Arthur frowned. "Forget me please," she whispered, setting the flowers down on the bench and walking away.

He watched her walk away and did nothing to stop her. In a split second when the sun shone on her face clearly, he could've sworn he saw her eyes were purple, before she turned the corner and disappeared from his eyes.

"Wait--" he almost began to say, beginning to stand, but swallowed the word instead. Confused, he swallowed again and looked around. The street was empty. With a sigh he sat back down on the bench and picked up the little posy of flowers, twirling it around in his hands.

Eventually the general decided that this was not a mystery he would get to the bottom of any time soon, if ever. He might as well take the woman's advice. Still holding the forget-me-nots in his hand, he walked off in the opposite direction of the woman, towards his home and away from the less reputable area of Xia.

Even though he tried to put the encounter out of his mind, something struck him as odd, about how the woman had not told him her name, about how she had told him to forget her, about how she had just walked off, and about how--

Well, he could not be sure, but...

He only knew one way that a person could have purple eyes.

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Post by no mom its ironic on Sun Sep 21, 2014 2:57 am

i just kinda came up with the title and then went from there

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Post by Death is... kinda hot on Sun Sep 21, 2014 1:07 pm

I like the idea.

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Post by no mom its ironic on Thu Sep 25, 2014 3:04 am

did someone say lox potter? no? well too bad, ive been reading fanfiction and nobody can stop me *cackles*

            Arthur Belnz licked his lips, which seemed to be suddenly very dry, and swallowed for good measure. A cart filled with assorted books, suitcases, and all other manner of ‘school supplies’—he could still not quite believe that these were things he would need at school, a cauldron of all things—sat in front of him. He gently pushed it forward and looked down at the paper in front of him. Platform 9 and ¾, it said, as if taunting him. Platform 9 was there, yes, and Platform 10, but…


            The boy scratched his nose, thinking. It was probably some sort of… wizard-y thing he wouldn’t understand. Oh God, he needed to understand, though. Arthur stopped his scratching and looked around, scanning the people walking around; there should be other people going, right? …right?

            His prayers were answered when he spotted two girls walking together, pushing large, unwieldy carts. Both had black hair, but the taller one had hers up in a ponytail while the shorter one had let hers down. There was enough difference in their faces that, even though they were far away, Arthur could tell they were not related. The two walking behind the taller girl, though, seemed to be her family. Her mother (well, presumably her mother) seemed very out of place, with gently wavy dirty blond hair and bright blue eyes. Meanwhile, her father resembled his daughter, with the same straight black hair—even the same ponytail, Arthur noted with amusement.

            “Come on then, let’s go!” the taller girl exclaimed, a grin on her face. Now that she was closer, Arthur could make out dark purple eyes, so that they seemed close to black. He was not prepared for what came next.

            She dashed forward suddenly, the shorter girl watching her speed by, straight into the wall between platforms 9 and 10. Arthur barely managed to keep himself from calling out because she must know what she was doing, right? Apparently she did, as suddenly she just—disappeared into the wall, phased through it. He blinked and shook his head. The girl was definitely gone.

            The shorter girl followed after her and Arthur, after thinking it over for all of a second, decided that whatever they were doing was probably what he was supposed to be doing. He closed his eyes and ran for the wall and only opened his eyes in time to stop himself from running into the girl in front of him. Her eyes widened and she stumbled slightly, Arthur immediately cursing to himself for being dumb.

            “I’m sorry, so sorry, really…” the words came tumbling out of his mouth and the girl just smiled and nodded.

            “It’s alright, I’m not injured or anything, am I now?” She stood up straight and held out a hand. “I’m Venia Their. And you would be?”

            “Arthur Belnz,” he said hurriedly, shaking her hand in a manner that made it clear he was nervous. “I really am sorry about that, I was, uh…” He cleared his throat.

            “Yeah, the entrance is a bit weird,” Venia said, tilting her head. “But we’ve got to keep it hidden from Muggles, so we can’t just have… I dunno, a great big archway saying”—and here her voice changed to such a dramatic tone that Arthur thought she could perhaps pursue a career as someone who voiced over movie trailers—“Platform Nine and Three Quarters, here lies the Hogwart Express!” Somehow her voice became even more dramatic with the last few words. “Hmm. Which is not here right now, apparently.”

“Ah! Yes.” Arthur looked around. “I guess we arrived early,” he said. The platform was noticeably rather empty. Venia nodded, chewing on her cheek.

“This means we’ll get our first pick of seats, though.” Arthur considered telling her that was nothing big, but he felt bad to dampen her cheerful spirit. “Oh! Since there seems to be only the three of us here, we should all get introduced to each other. Saivel!” Venia jumped and waved, attracting the attention of the taller girl, who appeared to be staring at the empty tracks.

            She turned quickly and walked over to them with a fast pace, just a hint of a smile on her face. Venia grinned. “So our other early arrival here is Arthur”—suddenly her voice was blown away by the sound of what Arthur presumed to be the train, and if it wasn’t the train, then that would probably mean a very unpleasant and likely grisly end. However,it was the train, allowing him to sigh (or at least he thought he sighed because maybe that was just air being stolen from his lungs).

            The train suddenly screeched to a halt,  causing Arthur to instinctively put his hands over his ears, squinting from the pain. He was fairly certain that he might have heard a curse but he was not sure until the noise finally, finally ends, leaving his ears ringing as if to make sure he would not forget its presence. He appreciated the thought—well he didn’t, really, he would be quite pleased if the noise just buggered off.

            Something was spoken, but no one could really hear it. He shook his head a few times and pointed to his ear as the ringing began to fade away. “Well, now that that’s over,” he said. “I’m Arthur”—he paused and wondered whether the others could hear him. Saivel looked at him attentively. “Arthur Belnz.”

            “Saivel Athess,” she replied with a wide grin. She appeared to be looking at his face expectantly, but all he could give her in return was a look of confusion. “Oh! Are you a, uh, a Muggleborn, then?” She said the word tentatively, like it was something new to her tongue, her smile being replaced by a look of trepidation.

            “…I’m sorry?”

            “You are a Muggleborn, then.” Saivel smiled. “Oh, then you don’t know! Fantastic! It’ll be nice to have someone who isn’t harping on about how ‘oh isn’t your uncle supposed to be insane’ and ‘is it true that something or other happened.’”

            “Um. I’m… missing out on something, aren’t I?” Arthur scratched his nose again, a common thing when he was confused or nervous. Venia laughed, a bubbling sort of laughter.

            “Well, obviously. Not something we can explain right now…” Venia looked over at Saivel.

            “The train ride is rather long,” Saivel said. “Speaking of which, we’d best get on. I will buy us all so many candies.”

            “You don’t need”—Arthur was cut off by Saivel slapping a hand over his mouth.

            “Shush. I will buy you all the Chocolate Frogs. Actually not all of them, that’s selfish. Actually yes all of them, that’s selfish.” She grinned again and looked at Arthur with mischief in her eyes. “I’ll just go fetch my cart and you two can get on and, I dunno, talk. Do things.” She removed her hand from Arthur’s mouth and ran over to the cart. Arthur stared after her helplessly, Venia with a great big smile on her face.

            “She’s insane,” he said at the same time as Venia said “She’s brilliant.” Venia looked at him and shrugged.

            “Who’s to say the two aren’t mutual…” she paused. “Mutually… exclusive?” Arthur couldn’t help but laugh. “That was supposed to sound really cool and funny,” she said sheepishly, “but I’m not exactly the best at… words.”

            Arthur bit back the scathing ‘I can tell,’ not wanting to hurt his new friend’s feelings, and instead just smiled.

If you're a doofus and can't tell, UNFINISSSHED

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