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fireworkreindeer · 1 year

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Zexal OC!

Name: Natsu Evergreen

Age: 19

Design:

She has long, pastel green hair that goes down hair back. She has red eyes, freckles that cover her tan skin. She's around 5'9, tends to wear a light grey turtleneck, black jeans and knee high boots.

Deck: Magical Scientist

About:

Many people get an odd feeling when meeting her like something isn't quite right with Natsu. She has a very bubbly personality and she's busty which makes many guys swoon for her, despite her telling them she's gay.

People are right to be skeptical when they meet her because she's actually an android. During the fire that comatose Rio and injured IV, Natsu was also in the area and got badly burnt. She was hospitalised, with no hope of her surviving, until Mr. Heartland found her. He took her to the Tower where he removed her burnt limbs and replaced them with plastic ones. The only human parts remain are her brain and torso. When she awoke and saw what had happened, she ran away. Nastu hid in an alleyway as helicopters from Heartland Tower, searched for her. Natsu was soon found by a young Ryoga Kamishiro. Ryoga saw a sad, broken girl, whom like him, needed a family. The two soon lived together, with Natsu being the older sister to Ryoga and later Rio.

Tada! My OC Natsu!!! I really had to redo my old OC and scrap EVERYTHING. My old one Lia, was the twin sister to III but she had a very broken backstory since she was the same OC I also used for other fandoms and poor lil old me, messed her up big time. I mean really? Why was she the daughter of Byron Arclight, adopted daughter of Natasha Romanoff, ex member of the Winx Club AND was also a Steven Universe style fusion between two other OCs, Marin and Yumi, WHO ALSO HAD BACKSTORY TOO?! WTF was this OC!?

(She was originally a Barbie: A Mermaid's Tale OC, Winx Club, followed by Zexal, Marvel and back to Zexal. I'm gonna keep Marin and Yumi because they're fine and will just remove the whole fusion into Lia part)

So yeah. Lia "VI" Arclight is forever gone and is replaced with the new Natsu Evergreen. And I would love to see fanart of her! I'd draw it myself but I had a breakdown last time trying to draw people so.... Its gonna be a while before there's one. Just tag me if you do fanart of Natsu.

(PLEASE don't ask why Lia was so broken cause I have no fucking clue)

#yugioh zexal #Zexal OC

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mania-sama · 3 months

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rule #12 - through the tides

Rule #12 - Through the Tides - Fish in a Birdcage

Voltron Pairings - Hunk & Lance & Pidge Tags - shark attack, amputation, surfing, surfer! lance, no voltron lions au, blood and injury, harm to animals (the shark had it coming), hurt no comfort, nonbinary! pidge, gore Summary - Lance just wants to surf, but it seems like a creature of the sea has different plans in mind. Word Count - 1,837 Cross-posted from Archive of Our Own Whumptober 2023 - Day 16: Amputation See my full Whumptober 2023 Challenge on Tumblr or Ao3

Author Note:

this is inspired by a VERY specific fanart of lance and shiro (not ship i dont think) where shiro is trying to comfort a crying lance, who is staring horrifiedly at his amputated arm. the nub has obvious shark bites, and the whole work is so compelling bc its like lance was hurt by the thing he loves THE MOST in the world (or that the fandom has assigned to him anyway) and nobody can understand his pain but shiro, who is also an amputee.

BUT YOU KNOW WHAT. I CANT FIND IT. i cant find the fucking fanart. its gone. if any loser reads this fic and happens to have the fanart somewhere. link me to it. or dm me on instagram or twitter. i am desperate. i am so utterly desperate idk what to do with myself

also faintly inspired by barbie's "a mermaid tale" but thats only because the only references i have to surfing are the movie and Teen Beach Movie and im gonna be honest, this is not like teen beach movie at all

The ocean is Lance’s happy place. When he sets his feet in the cold salt water, the tension in his body from the day or week flows out of him like how the ocean waves ebb against the shore. His feet sink into the sand and seep between his toes. It’s a natural massage to work out his anxieties. The breeze rushes off the horizon, tossing his hair and cooling the sweat on his forehead.

He stares at the glittering sun in the midday sun. It brings him relaxation and adrenaline all at once; the water lapping his ankles is his calming massage, but the waves crashing further ahead call his name as though they are a crowd of excited fans. Lance doesn’t surf professionally, preferring to keep his hobbies and his career separate, but that doesn’t mean he won’t get a rush from the beachgoers watching him tackle the unforgiving ocean.

He adjusts the board under his arm and takes a deep breath. He spares one glance over his shoulder at his friends waiting on the safe sand. Hunk waves at him enthusiastically from where he’s building an already impressive sand castle considering they only arrived ten or so minutes ago, and Pidge smiles from their lounge chair. Their massive umbrella protects their fair skin from burning at the slightest touch of the sun.

Lance turns back to face the waves. A big wave builds in the distance, too far for Lance to get to in time. It’s a promise of a thrilling challenge yet to come. He doesn’t waste any longer and strides out to join the people swimming out in the ocean.

The chill of the ocean is a fresh of breath air to him. Most people — Pidge — complain about the bite and sudden cold, but Lance has never been able to understand that reaction. It’s like a mint for bad breath, a shower after toiling in the mud, and a payday after two weeks of hard labor. He embraces the slap of the crystalline water as though it’s an old friend, which in some ways, it is.

He hoists himself stomach-first onto the board and drifts when his feet can no longer touch the ground. He’ll propel himself now and again to keep moving in the right direction, but for the most part, he stays stagnant on the water. Waves come and go as they please; a good one is harder to catch than a mediocre one, and a gnarly wave is the rarest of them all. Unfortunately, Lance is in the mood for something huge to make the adrenaline rushing through his veins worth it, so he has to wait a long time.

Honestly, it’s not so bad. As long as he’s in the ocean, he can’t feel the edges of impatience creeping up on him. The sound of the water’s ever-constant movement is a melody to his ears and a remedy for his greed. He can stare for hours at the way the sun reflects off the water in dazzling bursts of light. It’s a phenomenon that can’t be replicated even if all of history’s best painters rose from the dead to collaborate on recreating the scene.

It can’t capture the smell of salt and seaweed, the gentle caress of the water on his hands and calves, or the happy people screaming and splashing each other in the distance. Seagulls circle overhead and dive when they find a fish straying too close to the surface, or they find a human to harass for bread and chips. The heat of the day burns on Lance’s tanned skin, unrelenting even as the thin clouds attempt to diminish its power.

It’s Heaven on Earth. Michelangelo could never hope to replicate it.

Lance spies a wave rippling in the distance. The water ripples, and the frequency of the sloshes near his board change. His heart picks up pace, and his arms start working to get closer to the rising wall. After years of surfing, he can easily tell which waves will end in a disappointing, diffused heap, and which ones will create a loop so large Lance can stand inside.

A shadow overcasts the water that the wave rises over, and the rush of the moving water overpowers the loud beachgoers closer to shore. His world narrows to him, the wave, and his board. Lance forces his board and himself underneath the wave, the ocean completely encasing him in sea water. He stays there for a moment, salt and water burning his eyes and flowing against his closed lips. The sounds of the surface world are muffled, and he can only distinctly hear the gushing water.

When he’s about to break the surface, he spots a form under the water. Lance has had close encounters with sea creatures before — fish, crabs, jellyfish, and other rather unfriendly animals that didn’t appreciate a human traversing their home. He’s never been upset when they pinch, bite, or sting; he is the trespasser. The ocean is not his home.

He’s been near sharks before but in every single instance, it was in a more or less controlled environment. The sharks were small, freshwater, and used to human presence. Experienced divers kept their noses and teeth from ever getting within biting distance.

In the split second after, he breaks the surface with his board clutched in a white-knuckled grip. All he can see now is the very tip of the shark’s gray fin coming straight towards him.

“Shark!” He screams as loud as he can, and he climbs onto his board as quickly as he can. The wave is still moving, on the brink of collapsing in the great surge he’s been waiting for. They travel fast, faster than he hopes the shark is willing to go to keep up with him. It’s not going to be the surf that he wanted, but by God is it going to be the one he’s going to get. It’s ride-or-die, literally.

Hazily, he hears the blow of whistles and the revving of the lifeguards’ waterskis. His heart beats too hard in his chest, and it nearly overpowers the sounds of the restless ocean. His board wobbles underneath him, threatening to knock him off with the slightest misstep. He knows it's the panic setting into him that’s throwing him off but his running mind can’t help but associate it with the shark moving in the depths below him.

The shark produces a massive shadow underneath his board and rocks Lance off-balance. It’s slippery from being completely under the water, and his tingling feet prevent him from a steady grip. His arms flail in the area to pull him back on the center of the board.

He’s still screaming his head off when he falls. It’s not completely off — his body is still on, but his hips straddle the board and his legs plunge into the ocean. He tries to pull them back up, but he notices the wave has left him behind.

Then pain explodes in his right leg.

He thrashes against the board, attempting to use his full body weight to dislodge the shark off his leg. But it holds fast. Lance can see its body as more than just a shadow, now. Its nose sticks out of the water, and its huge body moves back and forth with all of the effort it has to pull him underneath the waves.

Lance can hardly think past the bite, how it sears his leg in the worst agony he’s ever felt. He’s been burned, stabbed in a fight, beaten to a bloody pulp, yet nothing compares to this. His skin rips and tears under the huge, sharp teeth of the shark. It takes all of his core strength to keep on the board and not tip over, which means leaning on the other side. It’s taking off his leg, it’s taking off his leg, but he has to sacrifice it if he wants to survive.

Blood comes up in smokey waves to pool around him and the shark, mixing with the white steaks and bubbles created by their fight. Lance lets go only temporarily to punch the animal directly in the nose, which actually gets it to let go. Its body torques and thrashes in the water. Lance uses the short opportunity to bring his leg onto his board.

Except it doesn’t come out of the water. His knee comes up, but the space where his calf and foot should be is occupied by the overflowing pour of blood and flesh. Tendrils of the tendons the shark couldn’t get ahold of swing in the open air. His white bone peaks out from his knee, a small numb in comparison to the long bone that should continue the skeleton.

He screams, and he screams when the shark launches to finish the job, and he’s still screaming when a pair of hands hoist him off of his board and out the shark’s bloody, snapping jaw. Its beady eyes flash in the open air, staring directly at its prey before it flops under the water once more. It breaks his board in half from the crash of its massive body directly down the center.

Lance’s voice is hoarse, and his sobs are uncontrollable as he stares at his leg. Or rather, the absence of it. It throbs like it's still there. The pink and red bits of his flesh fly off in the wind from the speed of the jet ski. The lifeguard is saying something to him, but he can’t hear it over the engine of the machine and the static in his ears.

He’s never going to surf again. He’s never going to be able to walk on his right leg again. Not as flesh and bone, but as a wooden peg, metal, a machine, nothing but the air. It should still be there. He can still feel it. Parts of it remain; his liquid and solid insides still flow and burst into the area where it should be. It should be there.

But it’s not, and it’s unbearably painful and all he can do is sob as the pain overtakes all of his senses. Salt flies into the gaping wound, filling up the space where his leg should be.

Where his leg isn’t. Where it never will be.

He’s sobbing when the paramedics drag him into the waiting ambulance, and he’s reduced to whimpers as the sheer pain overrides his consciousness. Hunk cries with him and holds his hand, and Pidge can’t seem to stop screaming, either.

He passes out thinking about his leg. How it’s gone and never coming back. but still hurts all the same, still mocks him in its presentation of being real and attached to his body. He sees the pink, pulsing flesh peeling from his knee in thick strips behind his eyelids. He feels the warm, blood-infested water, and stares into the gaping jaws of the shark that claimed his leg.

Then, the deep, watery darkness of unconsciousness.

#voltron #voltron fanfic #vld #vld fanfic #lance mcclain #vld lance #voltron lance #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #fanfic #ai less whumptober #whumptober fic #whumptober #whumptober2023

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