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February 13, 2011 at 12:00 AM
I like it!
Too bad time cops aren't around to solve all of our problems with 1984 style beatdowns.
Too bad time cops aren't around to solve all of our problems with 1984 style beatdowns.
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January 25, 2011 at 12:00 AM
If there is a definition for the precise opposite of a turn-on, I believe you have written it. Good gods.
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January 25, 2011 at 12:00 AM
The figure sat back, watching the glorious rise of the deathbringer, shaking the violated earth in violent, triumphant penetration. He watched it's glans-like form ejecting spikes of malevolent doom into the virginal skies stained red with His coming, the way his fluid had ejected into the dead and dying bowels of his recent victims. their stink still drying on his body, he awaited the white rush of final oblivion that would join him and this world into an orgy of death.
It never came.
Instead, the sky changed color as a new, ringing electronic whine overlaid the soundscape of apocalypse and a wash as if of blacklight suffused the scene, as if the sun itself had turned ultraviolet. And then, to his shock and horror and rage, the spikes reversed their arc, flying back into the spiky mass that had fired them, and that mass itself retracted into the ground with the rent in the earth sealing behind it. Then with a flash of light he was back inside Lavos, helplessly watching his triumph play out in reverse, reinserting himself into the corpses of his victims one by one, feeling his own seed sucked back into himself and playing through each wounding and killing stroke in rewind, healing them as he had defiled and destroyed them, their bodies reforming until, one by one, he retracted from them again leaving them intact and whole. His rage and confusion and despair a storm in his mind as he watched and felt his body played like a puppet to undo all he had done.
When the bizarre scene had played itself out, he found himself frozen as his victims had been, his time egg lying whole on the ground where he had thrown it and he himself frozen as they proceeded on with their battle as if he was never there. As helpless as they had been. Part of him thrilled in anticipation of violence and rape to come as an unknown and only imagined attacker enacted bloody, masterful revenge on his helpless body. He hated that weak part of him that thrilled at identifying with his victims, but it was screaming in ecstatic longing for the ravaging to come.
That, too, never came.
Instead, an androgynous figure in leather and steel, a reflective-faced helmet blocking any glimpse of identifying features, stepped before him and spoke in an electronically-modulated voice that was jsut as androgynous and unidentifiable as the armored figure itself.
"This is perhaps the mother of all understatements, but you are one truly sick son of a fuck."
The figure took his helpless hands and cuffed them behind his back, attached them to another set of cuffs placed on his ankles, and attached both to a harness wrapped around his torso and locked in place. Then, with a press of a button, he found himself suspended in air as the harness floated at the command of the figure's remote control.
"You really thought you could get away with this? Are you serious? You're as delusional as you are insane. And that's saying something."
The figure continued it's monologue as she/he/it maneuvered him towards a waiting gate. "The post-Lavos future had all the time it needed to develop countermeasures against temporal interference. You, my hapless psychotic fool, chose to attack the single most guarded over moment in the entire timeline. Didn't you know there were timecops? How in the hell can you have gotten your hands on a gate mechanism and a time egg and not know about the TVA?"
With a final shake of that reflective-helmed head, the figure spoke a final time. "Lucky for you, psychosis like yours is curable in our time. When the doctors are done with you you, you won't even remember this. And you'll be ready to rejoin society with your brain all nicely reconfigured, your damaged neural pathways all nicely rerouted and your neurochemicals all in healthy balance. Ready to have a job, and a social life, even a family. And that, my effed-up friend, is my revenge. Knowing that you're screaming inside in revulsion and rage at the happy well-adjusted future that awaits you and being powerless to stop it. And the "well-adjusted" pun is most heartfully intended. They're going to adjust the shit out of you."
The timecop took the indulgence of kicking him through the waiting gate, it glowing a vivid pink as if a vagina he is to be thrust through in order to be reborn.
"It really couldn't happen to a nicer guy".
It never came.
Instead, the sky changed color as a new, ringing electronic whine overlaid the soundscape of apocalypse and a wash as if of blacklight suffused the scene, as if the sun itself had turned ultraviolet. And then, to his shock and horror and rage, the spikes reversed their arc, flying back into the spiky mass that had fired them, and that mass itself retracted into the ground with the rent in the earth sealing behind it. Then with a flash of light he was back inside Lavos, helplessly watching his triumph play out in reverse, reinserting himself into the corpses of his victims one by one, feeling his own seed sucked back into himself and playing through each wounding and killing stroke in rewind, healing them as he had defiled and destroyed them, their bodies reforming until, one by one, he retracted from them again leaving them intact and whole. His rage and confusion and despair a storm in his mind as he watched and felt his body played like a puppet to undo all he had done.
When the bizarre scene had played itself out, he found himself frozen as his victims had been, his time egg lying whole on the ground where he had thrown it and he himself frozen as they proceeded on with their battle as if he was never there. As helpless as they had been. Part of him thrilled in anticipation of violence and rape to come as an unknown and only imagined attacker enacted bloody, masterful revenge on his helpless body. He hated that weak part of him that thrilled at identifying with his victims, but it was screaming in ecstatic longing for the ravaging to come.
That, too, never came.
Instead, an androgynous figure in leather and steel, a reflective-faced helmet blocking any glimpse of identifying features, stepped before him and spoke in an electronically-modulated voice that was jsut as androgynous and unidentifiable as the armored figure itself.
"This is perhaps the mother of all understatements, but you are one truly sick son of a fuck."
The figure took his helpless hands and cuffed them behind his back, attached them to another set of cuffs placed on his ankles, and attached both to a harness wrapped around his torso and locked in place. Then, with a press of a button, he found himself suspended in air as the harness floated at the command of the figure's remote control.
"You really thought you could get away with this? Are you serious? You're as delusional as you are insane. And that's saying something."
The figure continued it's monologue as she/he/it maneuvered him towards a waiting gate. "The post-Lavos future had all the time it needed to develop countermeasures against temporal interference. You, my hapless psychotic fool, chose to attack the single most guarded over moment in the entire timeline. Didn't you know there were timecops? How in the hell can you have gotten your hands on a gate mechanism and a time egg and not know about the TVA?"
With a final shake of that reflective-helmed head, the figure spoke a final time. "Lucky for you, psychosis like yours is curable in our time. When the doctors are done with you you, you won't even remember this. And you'll be ready to rejoin society with your brain all nicely reconfigured, your damaged neural pathways all nicely rerouted and your neurochemicals all in healthy balance. Ready to have a job, and a social life, even a family. And that, my effed-up friend, is my revenge. Knowing that you're screaming inside in revulsion and rage at the happy well-adjusted future that awaits you and being powerless to stop it. And the "well-adjusted" pun is most heartfully intended. They're going to adjust the shit out of you."
The timecop took the indulgence of kicking him through the waiting gate, it glowing a vivid pink as if a vagina he is to be thrust through in order to be reborn.
"It really couldn't happen to a nicer guy".
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May 30, 2009 at 12:00 AM
Damn... where in the Darkness Beyond Time did you drag this from. But this did prove one thing: I have a heart of stone, this didn't scare me, the Crisis Core ending didn't get one tear from me. BTW... are you making a yaoi version of this?
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March 24, 2009 at 12:00 AM
That was the most fucked up story I have ever read, yet I loved it. It took someone with a unique sense of talent to right that. I don't think read any ones who could have said it any better
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February 26, 2009 at 12:00 AM
OMG, that's AWESOME. We need more fanfics where Lavos wins in the end. I get tired of heroes living happily ever after.
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October 5, 2008 at 12:00 AM
sorry for my grammar mistakes because English is not my native language
lavos dig his own tomb because if ayla died then the kingdom of Guardia never exist also the human will lose the war against reptiles with that fact the zeal kingdom was never founded without zeal the mammom machine, Magus and Schala never born without them soon the entire human kind will disappear and if the humans disappear. chronopolis was never built by us also if zeal never exist the magic tree was never plant in our world and according to the game was that tree the reason of life in the early future so if life never reborn and a world without life in 1999 lavos will die because no one live without food
please can you do me a favor? LavosXNadia its my third favorite couple (the first it NadiaXMagus and the second is ChronoXLucca (they are so meant to be))I just love the part when Nadia tried to comfort Lavos (in a weird way) so if you can do a LavosXNadia´s fanfic?? please it mean so much for me because I never read a fanfic with those characters
again sorry for my grammar
great fanfic
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September 11, 2008 at 12:00 AM
YOu sick motherless fuck when you get into my realm may you suffer 8 million times of what all people suffer in like seriously you sick motherless fuck
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August 23, 2007 at 12:00 AM
What the fuck is wrong with you?
No, seriously. Get help STAT.
No, seriously. Get help STAT.
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August 9, 2007 at 12:00 AM
A question; which do you consider more interesting, the events which comprise a character's origin or that character's reaction to those events? IMO, the origins of the character aren't interesting, but his reactions are.
That said, I don't write 'dark and edgy' for their own sake. I write what interests me. No more, no less.
That said, I don't write 'dark and edgy' for their own sake. I write what interests me. No more, no less.