#blaze just wants to know how they GOT IN THE POCKET DIMENSION | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shewhowillnotbenamed1 · 3 years

Text

I wanted to get this ‘Valentine’s Day’ piece out, even though it’s massively, supremely late. 😭It’s part of a longer piece (because I couldn’t stop writing it😶) and I’m still not sure whether or not it’s not terrible.😖

prompt list

-------

This couldn't be right.

Damian almost did a double take, his cool smirk withering when he glanced up, transfixed by the sleek storefront at the cross streets where he stood. Why on earth would Raven be in a place like this?

The building towered above the tottering sea of gray, black and blue below. And the mannequins in the display lorded over their dominion, propped loftily on their perches, arms and legs of impractical proportions, stilted at absurd angles.

And why would she summon him here?

His trousers began to buzz audibly and the shifting crowd of passersby jostled him closer to the glass. Damian delivered the faceless caricatures of the female form a final foreboding glare, before he reached down to free the device vibrating in his pocket. New Message. Raven. Apparently, it was urgent. He tapped the speech bubble icon with a fingertip and his jaw went slack.

I Need You.

The three words seemed etched into the surface of the screen. And they were more than enough to get him to take a deep breath and grasp the curved door handle, his jaw set, and wingtips marching determinedly onward.

The atmosphere inside the store was even more unexpected than the outside. When translated, the pounding music and low lighting read as more nightclub than boutique. It was completely impractical in Damian's view—how could anyone locate a price tag, let alone see the item they were intending to purchase? Although, after a few minutes of skulking around in the dark, he could see how the implementation of such a design was advantageous. With stealthiness like his, he wasn't in danger of being accosted by overly helpful employees hungry for commissions, before he located the heading of a dramatic script that read Dressing Rooms, and turned underneath it.

Down the row each stall had a flood light stationed above it, but only one appeared to be presently occupied: the corner room at the farthest end of the hall. And as he got closer he noticed it also appeared to be the largest. Damian glanced behind him and rapped on the door with a knuckle. And just as he began to wonder if he'd needed some sort of special knock or password prepared, the lock glowed black and unlatched itself.

"I'm here." The door creaked open and the floor groaned under his solid weight. Damian turned swiftly to shut it, growing steadily concerned.

"So what is it? What's the—big emergency..." He started, but his tongue began to feel heavy and leaden inside his rapidly drying mouth. And his eardrums began to beat violently until they matched the thumping of his maddened heart.

Red.

Blood red.

Burning. Blinding. Blazing.

In the carpet, the walls, the curtains, the chandelier.

It was everywhere—even in the deafening pounding hammering away at his head.

Thundering images suspended before him, going in and out of focus. They were searing his eyes, blearing his vision. In sinful shapes marred over pale flesh, it was red repeating over and over. Criss-crossing crimson. Damian had to dig his fingernails into his palms to ground himself with the tangibility of a familiar sensation.

And suddenly he realized that all the times before were incomparable, this was what it meant to be blindsided by a breath-taking blow. This was what it meant to receive a rush of blood to the head…

…or a rush of blood to the—

"I'm glad you came so quickly."

And the silhouette of Raven turned where she sat on a velvet ottoman, leaning forward in a way that was guaranteed to diffuse away the rest of his brain's processing ability. It was all he could do not to goggle at her like some cartoon character. Tawdry and tactless. Damian inwardly cursed the merciless Goddess above as he took in the cleavage created by cups, a series of straps and bows and elastic and he didn't know what. Only that he shouldn't have been so disarmed by it—by Raven's breasts pushed up to high-heaven. Like they weren't perky enough or distracting enough in their usual sheath of simple black cotton.

His wide emerald eyes strayed downward in spite of themselves and onto shapely, stocking clad legs folded one over the other, with a lace-up heel tapping out the bass of the synth pop bleeding into the background. Raven slid to her feet seamlessly, swaying slightly to the song. She took a single step, allowing the shadows to part for her as she did so.

There was a muted click, clack, click of her heels on the carpet as she drew near. He'd never seen her in stilettos, and he stared at them through slits.

Gods, they had to be four inches at least. Their impressive height only seemed to serve to make her look even more powerful. Just about as powerful as the force rooting him to the spot.

The deep panging in Damian's chest carried on, a racehorse charging from the starting gate, galloping faster and faster, as she grew closer and closer.

Suddenly he'd become aware of the fact that it was far too warm in here for the dead of winter. Or was it simply that Raven radiated such an intense heat?

Most definitely the latter.

The garnet colored lace gracing Raven's skin was a perfect match to her chakra stone. The semi-sheer fabric of her bra offered up a playful glimpse of the darker skin of her nipples beneath. When his gaze wound down her tapering waist, it appeared that the lack of opaqueness carried over to the front of her panties. He could just make out a little shadow—a promise laying underneath a tempting, well-kept diamond shape in plum wine. And last, but certainly not least were the thigh highs trimmed by garnet lacings and affixed to a red and black garter.

Damian's throat had somehow gone even drier. He tried to swallow with great difficulty, then tugged at his turtleneck for a reprieve.

However, there would be no such alleviation for his trousers.

"There's no emergency, Damian..." Raven assured him with a tilt of her head, lilac tendrils skating across a valley between pale peaks. "You'll have to forgive me, but I had to get you here. I had to know..." She paused, folding her arms as she prepared to pose a question to him. "Tell me... what do you think...of my outfit?"

Damian froze, fingers mid-tug and blinked several times as if he'd been struck dumb.

What?

That wasn't...

There was no way...

Was that a serious request?

She was being facetious—she had to be. It was the only explanation, unless Raven was somehow messing with his mind and Damian sincerely doubted that. But how could she ask him this with such bold-faced sincerity? Even if the wooden arch behind her housed a funhouse mirror and had been reflecting distorted proportions back at her. Or was there actually some warped reality in which they weren't looking at the same picture?

Although...

If he could muster up a voice to speak he would have asked, what outfit?

Lackadaisically, she trailed a hand down her body, tugging at the cups spilled over with supple skin. "The bra—do you like the pattern?" Raven traced the gorge between the swell of her breasts. "It's tulle and...French lace," she confirmed, squeezing the scant, semi-sheer embroidery molded to her chest. And Damian grimaced as though in physical pain.

"No?" she assessed, seemingly marking off boxes on a mental checklist. Raven smoothed her hands over her hips for a moment, appearing to be lost in thought. She paced slowly, revolving a full three-hundred and sixty degrees to pause with her back to him.

"And what about..." She swept a purple curtain over the nape of her neck to glance over her shoulder and he saw—of all things—a bow below the dimples on her back, nestled into the heart-shaped curve of her ass. "My panties...?"

Damian gritted his teeth, though not before letting a sound escape, like a hiss coupled with a wince.

"Are these okay?" The soft profile of her lips pressed.

Gods, it was almost as if she were seeking to offer all of this up to him. And who needed to clarify anything when she was all wrapped up and presented? Covered in the finest cardstock wrappings in gold-flecked marble, then laced up with champagne silk ribbon to await her unravelling.

Though his own would be more likely.

Right now, he'd forsake all his names, both Wayne and Al Ghul to get her to stop. Stop slinking closer, stop speaking in that sweet, scratchy undertone, and stop directing his focus to her various attributes, more than it already was.

It would only make his growing pain more pronounced.

A pale hand dangled down and spread across a smooth, silken thigh. "My stockings, then?" Raven hummed.

Though, Damian didn't speak. He wasn't entirely certain he was still breathing. Somehow, he'd managed to remain motionless and drag his unwilling eyes toward the floor. All his carefully constructed control was necessary to keep himself calm and centered in this moment. He could do this—he had to do this. Otherwise, what was the point of all those long years of training he'd endured?

Shiny purple strands bobbed; she'd started to shake her head slowly at the stony silence from the stoic cashmere wall standing before her, as if she expected as much.

"I bet you're still wondering why I called you here." Damian heard her voice go up in the middle, which it did whenever she was apprehensive or unsure. "I wanted you here to find out what you like—exactly what you like." When he arrived, Raven was blushing a delicious pink, so by now it had to be a violent red. "I wanted to get it right because...you're the first person, or only person I've ever been intimate with in any world, dimension, or universe..." She lingered.

And once again, Damian said nothing, and she resumed speaking.

"I do know that this is something that one does traditionally." Raven paused to worry her already cherry-red bottom lip. "That couples do... Buying underwear for your significant other is supposed to be something special, particularly for this holiday."

He was a mountain, immobile, unwavering...

"Oh, I see..." Her mouth set into a line. "Perhaps, it's the fit—or is it the color...?" Raven's large amethyst eyes swept over the room and landed on her reflection. "I thought dark red was classic. I knew I shouldn't have listened to Donna. I should have gotten something in black." She dragged a distraught hand through dark purple. "It's too much...or maybe it's not enough..."

"Don't," Damian growled low. His inflection was level and gave nothing away. If Raven was surprised by the outburst, she didn't let on, instead she continued.

"I bet the old string of socialites shuffling in and out of the manor were never caught dead in skivvies that weren't Kiki de Montparnasse or at least Agent Provocateur. But this..." Raven lifted her chin toward the mirror. "It's not your taste though, is it?"

That was far more than enough.

Far more than he could stand to hear and far more than he could stand to bear.

When his eyes flew back to hers at last, they weren't steely anymore, they burned—whittling her retinas down like they were wicks on candlesticks. As if he were all but telling her he dared her to do that again, to say that again.

"It's okay. I'm glad I found out before I bought—"

"I said...don't." Damian placed his hands on her wrists and whisked her right up to his chest. And he closed his eyes. He skimmed his lips along the length of hers like it was something sacred, his mouth trembling as Raven muffled out a note denoting her surprise.

He murmured to her, "you're brilliant, deadly beautiful—an empath...and for some reason unbeknownst to me, I'm your blindspot." Damian sighed resolutely. "But Raven, can't you take pity on me? I'm still a man." One that had been barely keeping it together since he arrived, but... "And you're you, so..."

There was no way in any world, dimension, or universe that he could ever resist.

Purple eyes grew wider as he told her and lifted a finger to her chin. Then it was Damian turning the tables and tipping her mouth towards his own. And though he hungered for her, he took slow and sweet and gentle grazes. It was tortuous, but he should only have a little at a time. This was an excess of an impossibly decadent dessert, an indulgence he was undeserving of. It was like the power in his sub zero freezer had short-circuited and he had no choice but to guzzle down that buried pint of vanilla caramel gelato.

Though who could blame him for being greedy when he had all of this spread out before him? And when her ass in those panties even resembled two round, creamy spoonfuls.

To hell with it then.

Damian lunged, face forward, longing for more of her. In an instant, he was inhaling her pulse, intaking the scent of leather-bound books with aged pages and the nectar from plums she'd probably narrowly avoided dripping on them. He dipped his tongue along the hollow of her collarbone as if he sought to test this.

"Mmm, that's nice."

"Nice?" Damian scoffed, his eyes on hers. "That's not what I was going for. Surely you didn't wear this because you wanted me to be nice." At the present, he wanted nothing more than to rip the tiny pieces of lace into twos, but Raven had selected them specifically for him. So he would continue to be patient and continue to savor this.

Let the pieces of fabric hold up for as long as he could hold out.

"Wait a moment," Raven gasped, quickly clutching his arm. "So your present...?"

"Present? Tch..." Damian's lip curled under his front teeth and he let out a piercing click. "If you're seriously considering getting me a present..." His palms glided down her chest and he gathered a scoop of softness in either hand. "Then these are perfect," he whispered in her ear.

And then Damian's mouth pushed back into hers and he was kissing her in ways that would make it impossible to return this lingerie after trying it on. He nipped urgently to gain entrance to her castle, then trapped her lip between his teeth like it was a drawbridge, at last releasing her tongue to collide with his own. All the while, his thumbs were sliding over her nipples, which puckered and pointed at his touch. He pushed up the cups of her bra for better access, head inclined towards his goal, soon to be met by a full mouth.

Each brush of his lips on Raven's chest made her fingers clench further and further into his shirt like it was a life preserver, and she was in danger of losing herself to the depths.

And after all, wasn't this the answer that she'd wanted from this—that she needed from him?

A chance to lose herself.

To stand in a dressing room in his arms, moaning his name like a breathy spell, her body bending until her back was arched under the avid swipes of tongue. He tugged her nipples between his teeth and they reddened, their response a glowing rave.

Yes.

Raven's eyelids squeezed, her pink face contorting in pleasure while Damian enjoyed the full weight of her breasts in his hands. He continued polishing the plush, pink rings. Left then right—until they were glistening.

"Gods, Damian..." Raven groaned. "Just—"

Just as sudden, there was a wet noise, a slip of suction. Damian had released a rosy nipple, taking note of Raven's expression. Hungry and dazed, and all his doing. Whether unconsciously or not, she pressed her legs together, clenching them as she watched Damian slip off the left sleeve of his coat and let it crumple to the ground in a heap.

The glaze of her gaze, her diaphragm's continuous rise and fall, her fingers digging into his arm, she needed this.

So why deny her?

"Yes, these are beautiful..." He whispered as he admired his handiwork under the chandelier light. The way the red nips and bites were like Damian Wayne watermarks upon the pale flesh. "But perhaps..." Damian's hands glided freely down the small of her back, just over the hill of her ass and stroked the burgundy bow, like an X marking the spot. "This."

When Damian glanced down at Raven, she was barely biting back another mewl, and moving restlessly in his arms. "I wonder what would happen if I were to pull this bow... Raven what do you think?"

"Damian... We shouldn't..." Raven murmured, sounding somewhat apprehensive and holding the fabric at his back tightly.

"Yes, we should Raven," he rasped darkly. "Right now, I can't seem to think of a reason why not..."

"Well, there's the fact that we're in public—"

"Public," Damian repeated flatly. "What of it? The outside world ceased to exist the second I entered the door of my own little version of Narnia."

Raven's jaw had unhinged in unmasked shock and Damian supposed this was an instance to take her remaining breath away by kissing her. Yes, he'd walked through a door and suddenly he was laying eyes on his half-naked demoness dangerous in dark red. So clearly nothing else in creation mattered.

When he pulled away her lips opened and closed, while her eyes remained shut, like a thirsty traveler prematurely cut off from a longer drink. And even though it seemed her body knew the truth, a darker part of him wanted her to beg for it.

"But, that's not what I asked," he said with a hard smile that wasn't. Damian drummed a divot on her lower back. "I fear I've gotten ahead of myself again. Tell me about the bow, Raven. What happens if I pull it?" His hand jutted out, he made a motion with his fingers, in mimicry of it.

"Why ask when you know the answer?" Raven asked him, her brow rising shakily.

"I could have asked you the same earlier. But..."

"But?"

Raven bit her lip but made no motion to stop his hands from climbing onto the curve of her ass. He taunted her twice, by tugging lightly on the tulle, until at last... The bow in the back came loose, and her panties slid down her legs with ease. She secured one pale thigh tightly over the other to hide herself.

No bottoms and bra half-undone, she was nothing short of delicious.

Though that scrap of fabric had barely covered much of anything, so why bother to tease? Or hadn't that been the sole purpose of this outfit?

A devious smirk sidled onto Damian's face as he realized something: these were the exact kind of underwear that one put on simply to take off.

"I pulled the bow, Raven," he murmured almost mockingly. "Don't I at least get to see the rest of my present?"

She stared up at him through her soot colored lashes and slowly opened her thighs.

183 notes · View notes

walker-journal · 3 years

Text

At Hell’s Gates (Bea, Adam, Luce- POTW)

Participants: Beatrice Vural (Spellcaster- Fiona), Lucinda Vural (Spellcaster-Cal), Adam Walker (Hunter- Tapir)

Summary: Adam brings Nell’s skin talisman to the Vural house to plan a rescue operation into a Hell Dimension with Luce and Bea as time runs out.

Content Warning: Allusion to sibling death in the Bea resurrection plot

In a way Adam appreciated the breakneck speed of preparations, the staggering level of planning needed to even attempt this almost impossible task. Every second fussing over environment resist gear, talking to Naomi about atmospheric poisons, and running over possible dimensional scenarios with mom was one where he wasn’t thinking about Nell being tortured in hell. Eventually he just had to drug himself to sleep, as he’d be no use on the mission already exhausted.

Adam caught a glimpse of his reflection in one of the windows of the Vural home. He looked like someone about to venture into a radiative wasteland or wade through mustard gas, heavy boots, sealed armor, and a gas mask hanging from his belt. In truth, even with all this equipment he was pathetically underprepared for what was coming.

But as always, Adam put on a face of stony resolution. He’d mastered the unphased action hero act a long time ago, even if his reflection had a numb thousand-yard stare that didn’t quite fit.

“So what’s the magic plan?”

The bracelet around Luce’s wrist had pinged the second Adam had crossed the boundary line, the magic a reminder of the sister she had lost. Nell had been the one who’d insisted upon the bracelets, something simple and small that they could always keep on them. She’d been so different back then. Younger. Unburdened by the weight that this town placed on its inhabitants. Luce let out a sigh and made her way to the front door, letting Adam inside. He looked like he was going to be rolling up into Chernobyl and, for all any of them knew, he would be. They didn’t know what was on the other side of those portals. And as much as Luce wanted to rush into the first rift she saw, she knew she couldn’t. She couldn’t leave Bea here, alone, to worry and to curse her name.

Cupping a glass of water in her hands, Luce looked over at her older sister, uncertain. “I don’t know. I’m not the one with the master plan, not this time.” Not ever really. She was just here to get things done, to bring Nell home. She might have lines now, boundaries she wouldn’t cross. But she needed to bring her sister home. “Bea, you find anything in the books on how we can get her back?”

In her early twenties Bea had been worried about her breakups and losing touch with her friends, how different that was from her sisters’ lives. How different that was from Adam’s life. He was walking into war for her baby sister and the eldest Vural could not help but see the flash of the blade cutting down when she looked at him. How many people would risk their lives for Nell? Would Adam be added to the list that had lost theirs for her? Nell, of course, was worth it, but Bea couldn’t help wishing that Adam and Nell could simply lead a life that was similar to Bea’s at their age.

Her shadows swirled at her feet, agitated by the whirling emotions suffocating their mother, they clung to her ankles as she moved to grab a tome she had taken from Nell’s things. “We’ll be using her magic for this. Or at least we will be using an adjusted version of her magic,” Her voice flowed confidently through the space, coating every surface with honeyed hope that she did not feel. Is this how Luce and Nell felt when they lost her? Luce, now, had witnessed both of her sisters gone, taken unfairly from this world. In an impulsive move, Bea found her little sister’s hand, squeezing as she thought of the terror that must be drowning the middle Vural. “Adam, we will get her back.” Bea would destroy this world for her sister, if it meant she was safe. She would tear the fabric that kept this plane stable. She wondered if the universe knew, if it was prepared to go to war for Penelope Vural. Bea was ready.

Adam had always been cautioned against hope. It was a purely therapeutic emotion, meant to comfort the dread of uncertainty. Esther Walker had instructed her children that facts should be assessed only for what they were rather than what we want them to be. We are not gods. This is not Hollywood. The cold universe wouldn’t fudge the numbers just because some monkeys on a random rock in the Milky Way had feelings in their skull.

But Adam knew that not everyone grew up with their mom bluntly stating that they’d eventually lose everyone they care about in the long war. While Adam knew this grimness was Esther’s way of loving him authentically, it’d probably be cruel to give Nell’s sisters the same treatment right now.

“Hey if we got a plan anything’s possible” he assured Beatrice with a confident lie of smile. Trying not to look at the darkness bubbling at the deathless woman’s feed, Adam turned his attention to Luce briefly. “Hey uh, resident fire scientist. Any way I could get something that might give me a chance if like...there is like an inferno or something? Just a few seconds to get the fuck out?”

Adam shifted his weight, leather and alloyed kevlar creaking with the moment. “How do we get access Nell’s magic then?”

Bea’s hand slipped into her own and, for the first time, Luce realized just how changed her sister was. The familiar warmth, the heat that had always matched her own-- a source of both frustration and comfort that had followed their whole lives… It was gone now. Bea’s fire was gone. She didn’t have it anymore. She never would. But she was still here, still standing, still trying. And Luce was going to try too. She’d reclaimed her fire, she’d manage to fan the spark back into a blaze, and now that she had the power back? The least she could do was help Adam. To keep him safe. Fuck. She nodded slowly, mulling over how she’d manage something like that. Their mother, she’d made charms to protect Nell from their fire as children, back before they had total control. “I think we have something that we could use-- a necklace Nellie used to wear when she was little. Kept her safe from us, before we could control our fire.” She said, dreading the idea of going into Nell’s room to look for the charm. She didn’t want to step foot in there. Just because she could expect the same anguish that had overtaken her when she’d went into Bea’s room last year-- that didn’t make it any easier. This town, this fucking town. She’d thought that the nightmare had ended, that Bea was safe, that Nell was safe. But nothing changed here.

Looking at the book in Bea’s hand, Luce swallowed. “That’s one of Nells. I don’t know how to do what she does, Bea. Neither one of us do. Summoning, blood magic-- I… What are you planning?”

The charm. Bea had forgotten about the charm that used to keep Nellie safe from them. A physical reminder that she was different from her sister. Bea didn’t blame her for not keeping it on her as an adult. “Do you know where that is?” Nell could have thrown it out years ago, but the youngest Vural tended to know when to hold onto things that could be useful. Bea hoped that she had classified this as something useful enough to hold onto, even with it’s baggage. “I don’t know how to either, but Leah is going to help me research too,” She squeezed her sister’s hand. “We have some luck on our side, we’re already somewhat connected. Her magic is, obviously, connected to ours, but by bringing me back we’re even further intertwined. Your magic combined brought me back, so we can use that as a way to channel her too.” It wouldn’t be that simple though, there were more steps that she wasn’t quite too sure on yet. “We need something else, something to track her too, but I’m not completely sure how to do that yet, if you have any suggestions.”

Adam nodded and mouthed thanks to Luce as Beatrice spoke. He hated to part the sisters with something that reminded them of Nell but when you are about to try a longshot, anything that could ease the odds even slightly was needed. Beatrice's question brought a stab of pain as Adam stirred from where he’d sat, reached into a pocket, and withdrew a battered compass.

“Nell gave this to me, it was uh a present,” Adam’s stomach clenched at the cruel irony of being given a six months dating present by a sad fire cat. It’d been the morning after he’d taken Nell out to ask their relationship to end for safety’s sake, only for that to be the mistake that caused the disaster he’d hoped to avoid.

“It points uh,” the answer was that it pointed towards home, though Nell had cautioned that it was more metaphorical than literal. “It can take me to her,” he stammered, trying to keep his voice steady.

Shifting uncomfortably, Luce swallowed. “It’s in her room. I can…” I don’t want to go in there, not alone. But you could never understand, Bea. You weren’t left behind the way we were. “Get it. Yeah, I’ll grab it.” She said before pushing back from the kitchen table, her hand slipping from Bea’s. She lingered in the doorway for a moment, watching as Adam pulled out a worn looking compass. As Adam explained what it was, Luce couldn’t help but wonder how Nell had gotten her hands on something like that. And just how lucky they were that she had. Luce nodded. “Good. That should… definitely help.” She was dragging her feet, she knew that. Just bite the bullet. With a slightly forced smile, Luce patted the door frame. “I’ll get the necklace.”

The walk up the stairs and down the hall to Nells was a short one, but every step filled Luce with that same anxiety she’d felt every time she had walked past Bea’s door last summer. It was a dread, a fear. That no matter what they did, it wouldn’t be enough. And that all that would be left of her sister would be tucked away in a room. That everything inside would stop being a part of Bea, of Nell, and start being a memorial. A memory. She didn’t want to step foot inside that room. But she had to. If they wanted to find Nell, this was their best shot. Luce pushed open the door and forced herself not to pay attention to the potted plants on their shelves, their leaves wilting a little from lack of care. She didn’t allow herself to dwell on the desk with books still open, the bed unmade with rumpled sheets, as though Nell had just left for the day. These were all reminders of her sister that she couldn’t handle. Instead, Luce began to look for the necklace.

It wasn’t until this past year that Bea truly understood love. In a sense, she had looked at love the same way her mother did, based on what the other person could do for her. Bea had collected people for their skills, pocketed the ones who were the most useful and claimed she understood love through them. It wasn’t until she had been lost that she got just how powerful love was and even then, though she had seen so much work put into her resurrection, she hadn’t witnessed it all. She hadn’t seen the planning or the original mourning, she had not been involved in the panic and grief. She was unable to escape it here, where love twisted into melancholy suffocating them as aptly as summer heat did in the afternoon.

Bea reached out to Adam, “Can I hold it? I’ll give it back to you after.” She couldn’t take the physical piece of Nell he had left, but looking at it would help her form a plan. They were all relying on her to make a plan that would bring Nell back. With Luce gone searching, she looked at him for a long moment, considering him. “Adam, I know how much a person would do for Nell.” I know sacrifice and I feel like I’m looking at one. “Please do your best to come back to us too.” Some of that honey sweet hope had dissipated now that Luce was gone, Adam didn’t need that, not in the way Luce did. “Is there anyone who can go with you as back up?” Please, don’t do this alone.

Adam pressed the compass in Beatrice’s hand. It took Adam a bit to answer Beatrice's request. His wide distant eyes and the lost way they drifted around the Vural’s home, looking anywhere but Bea’s face, revealed the lie behind the firm set of his jaw.

It’d been a long time since Adam had felt his age. Uncertainty and finding yourself were unnecessary when you’d grown up already knowing you’d be a soldier and what war you’d be fighting in. His civilian peers had gone through heartbreaks, angst, anger, cycles of rebellion, maturation, acceptance, and reinvention. But Adam had already grown up at sixteen, when he signed away his life to fight and die in service to humanity. He’d learned how to make bombs, lethal holds, blades, marksmanship, and how to keep his head in a warzone when everyone else had been fretting about what school clique to fall in.

But now Adam suddenly felt like a child in this tactical armor. It was as if he’d finally woken up from a dream to realize the weight was too heavy for him, but it was already way too late to learn all that stuff the other kids took for granted. Adam marveled at how narrow his own knowledge of the world was.

Honestly? He knew way more about how to kill monsters than how to be human.

With bittersweetness, Adam realized that made him exactly what Nell hadn't needed, and only now that she was trapped in Hell was he an ideal partner.

“I promised Luce I’d come with her back to Earth,” was the only assurance Adam could offer Beatrice. He shook his head at the matter of back up. “I’ve got family and Hunter friends who volunteered but I can’t ask them to take this risk. Besides we need all hands on deck to deal with all the shit coming out of the Portals.”

There were times people should be selfish and this felt like a time, but Bea knew that Adam wouldn’t agree. She could spend all night trying to convince him otherwise and it wouldn't work. He was more stubborn than Nellie sometimes, which was saying something. They were the only people that could get through to each other sometimes. It reminded her a bit of how she and Felix could be with each other.

“Is it going to be that bad?” She had no idea what these portals could mean for everyone else after all this. Honestly, she didn’t really care what happened as long as the people she loved were going to be okay. “You aren’t asking them if they offered, Adam.”

“In situations like these the portals often get worse, opening wider till they let bigger and bigger things through, stuff that our weapons won't work on,” Adam claimed, suggesting perhaps that the already deadly things coming through the dimensional breaches right now were just small fry compared to what really waited in the beyond.

“Eventually we get what’s sometimes called a Hellmouth,” the Hunter said, numbly staring at a wall as the present mixed with another time where doomsday had loomed near. “Unless its stopped reality itself could be permanently fucked around here...well...fucked even harder I mean, in a way that can’t be covered up from the outside world any more. They’ll probably notice the tentacle godzillas after a bit.”

Everyone had called Dad a hero. Had he felt like this, just another expendable piece of kindling thrown on the fire to keep ‘normal’ going for just a little while longer?

“Hey uh,” Adam prevaricated with a shrug knowing Beatrice was correct. “I’ve ask people for supplies and stuff. They’ve been very generous, but actually going in is something I don’t think I have the right to ask.” Of someone that wasn’t raised to die that way, was rest that was left unsaid.

It was always the end of the world, it seemed. No matter what everyone did to fix it, something else would come and take the mantle. Bea couldn’t help but feel as though sometimes these things were inevitable. It didn’t stop her from understanding the need to fight, if anything she got that this made people fight harder, because at least they had done something then. Still to fight for a world that didn’t know you were doing it must be exhausting. “So, it needs to close or else we’re all going to die via horrible ways.” The countdown they had already started to tick faster. “I guess it's good that we have people who are going to help then.”

Her throat tightened with unsaid words of caution and unnecessary attempts to dissuade him. Bea knew the look in his eyes, knew that no matter what she did or said, he wouldn’t turn from this course of action. She was sure she would have seen the same look in her own if someone had dared to stop her before she found Nell. “I suppose giving you supplies is enough.” It wasn’t.

Bea went back to Nell’s book, hoping that skimming again would reveal something else. And it did. She looked between the compass in her hand and the word bone. “Adam, do you know if Nell’s been keeping anything she’s killed? Like the bones of a monster?” The words came out quickly, excited by the potential that laid between them now.

Adam nodded. “On our first mission together, there was an Alchemist dude who was using a Dolophage to harvest intense emotions and memories from trauma patients,” the Hunter explained, swallowing down the bittersweet feeling of that recollection. It was hard to imagine that’d hadn’t even been a year ago. “Nell forged the Reversal Talisman so the Dologphage’s powers reflected back on it when it tried to tentacle my brain,” Adam explained, poking his ears to illustrate that he’d volunteered to get fed on by the demon as bait. “After we killed it she kept its bones.”

Digging around in Nell’s room wasn’t easy. Luce had known it wasn’t going to be easy. Not when there was so much uncertainty and that sense of doubt loomed over her every move. The moment she’d heard that Nell was gone, the second she’d heard from Adam, a pit had formed in her stomach. Or maybe it reopened-- maybe it wasn’t a pit so much as it was a gaping wound, created by Bea’s death, that she’d barely been able to tend to. She hadn’t stopped to process the loss, the grief, the anger. The anger. She’d only managed to get a hold of that until it was too late. And just as she was finally coming to grips with the events of the past year, White Crest found a fucking way to open up the wounds. Shutting the dresser drawer she’d been pawing through, Luce settled down on the edge of Nell’s unmade bed.

Luce clenched her jaw as she tried to sort through her thoughts, trying to figure out where Nell might keep the necklace. But all she could think of was how much it would hurt if she had to do this for real. If she had to pack up boxes of Nell’s things. She hadn’t had to do it with Bea, they’d known how to bring her back, known exactly what they needed to do, even if they weren’t sure if it would work. But Nell was lost. Gone. And Luce had no fucking clue how she could help. Swallowing, Luce wiped her eyes with the back of her hand before her gaze fell on a simple box on Nell’s bookshelf. Luce moved towards it, apprehensive. Her fingers lifted the lid and inside were little trinkets-- magical in nature. Some of them familiar to her, others she didn’t know where Nell had even found them. But there it was. The necklace Nisa had enchanted all those years. Luce took the necklace from the box and closed the box before hurrying out the door. She didn’t want to stay in that room, didn’t want to see that place again. Not until Nell was back. Not until they were all safe.

“Hey. Found it.” Luce said as she held up the little silver charm necklace. “We might need to re-up the magic, but it should help. And hey. Might help with the tracking situation. She wore this all the time.”

Plans were beginning to race rapidly through Bea’s mind, wheels spinning so quickly that she was almost scared they’d burn out. “With that bone we could connect with her,” She mused, before grinning at Luce. “And with the necklace we’ll also be able to tell how close Adam is to her. He’ll be able to use the compass, hopefully, in the dimension to find her quickly.” With eyes brighter than they had been since Nell was gone, Bea looked between the two younger adults,“We have a plan now, a really good one, with three ways to track her. We’re going to get her back.” And the moment she got back, she was going to get the lecture of her fucking life.

Adam nodded. “Hey...thanks both of you, like I know you’d do this for Nell anyway, but I still appreciate you folks having my back on this.”

Luce leaned against the doorway, taking in the scene. Bea, determined, her old fire lit inside her with this new mission to get her sister back. Adam, weary in a way that no one should be at his age, but filled with the same resolve. And then there was her. She fell somewhere between the two of them-- somewhere between grim determination and optimism. They were going to bring Nell home, come hell or high water. Which, in this town? Either could happen. “Sounds like we’ve got a game plan then.” Luce said with a nod. “Of course, Adam. And… thanks for leading the charge here. We’re gonna bring her home.”

#POTW #Portal Combat #bea #adam #luce #divineluce #beatrice-blaze #sibling death tw

14 notes · View notes

soulmate-game · 4 years

Text

I might make this a tumblr only mini-series of connected oneshots, and I might or might not put them up on AO3 when they are all done. We’ll see how I feel.

I know I submitted this AU to Multifandomscribette, but this is my take on the prompts I gave them. This is not the same AU, and I am not using their headcanons. Just the same basic premise of Marinette being Stephen Strange’s biological daughter.

You know Doctor Strange, Sorcerer Supreme, but this story is about

Lady Strange, the Grand Guardian.

What is with this family and alliteration?!

—*—*—*—*—*

Stephen Strange was a narcissistic, emotionally constipated bastard. But he was rich, well known, and handsome, which counted for a lot when he decided he needed some time to relax, unwind, maybe with another human.

And when Sabine Cheng realized what had happened, that night she had catered for a high society medical conference gala in the States, she vowed to never drink again.

She also vowed to never tell Strange about the child growing in her womb. The only person she ever told about her child’s true origin was Tom Dupain, the man she started dating a month after her chance encounter with Doctor Stephen Strange. Nine months after that, when Marinette was almost a month old, she would propose to Tom in blatant disregard of tradition. She would be waiting for years if she wanted Tom to get up the courage to ask her, and even though it hadn’t been a full year yet Sabine knew what she wanted. Seeing the gentle way Tom held her daughter, their daughter, seeing the way he looked at the little baby as if she hung the stars for him, well that only solidified the little Chinese woman’s love for the french man.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng would not know about her true father’s origin until she was twelve, when a science lecture at school had her asking Sabine who had blue eyes in each of their blood lines.

When Sabine hesitated, Marinette knew instantly that something was wrong. Sabine never hesitated. She was a whirlwind of decisiveness, always knowing what to say and how to act. Hesitation wasn’t a part of her.

Sabine told her everything. How her biological father was someone she only met once, how he was a successful surgeon who had won many medical awards. How he didn’t know she existed.

Of course, Marinette was immediately obsessed. Hurt by her mother’s secrecy, she turned her feelings of betrayal into curiosity and researched everything that there was to research about Stephen Strange. Apparently blue eyes ran on his side of the family. His own were more icy than hers, closer to a blue-gray, but familiar all the same. Both his parents were already dead though, so there went her hope of having another set of grandparents.

Marinette even went so far as to read the research papers he had written, and did follow-up research until she understood as much of it as she could. It helped that Professor Mendeleiev was more than willing to sit down and go over the medical papers with her so they could try to understand it all together.

One day, while Marinette was sewing a new dress, she paused with her needle in the air and stared at her fingers. After that day, she took much more pride than before in how steady her hands were. Her father was a surgeon, it must have been a biological trait. She clung onto anything that connected her to the oh-so mysterious Stephen Strange.

And then came Marinette’s thirteenth birthday. The same day that Stephen Strange was in a car accident and deemed in critical condition.

If Marinette kept an app for American news sources on her phone and set them to alert her if the name of her biological father was mentioned in any reports? Well, her parents didn’t need to know.

She didn’t tell her parents about the reason she was so morose for the rest of the day. She didn’t tell anyone.

She cried herself to sleep when Doctor Stephen Strange was declared to have irreversible nerve damage in his hands, and again when he went missing on a mysterious “vacation” that no media sites seemed to have any information on. She didn’t know why she felt so much connection and pain for someone she had never met, but she couldn’t help it. She would keep researching, keeping her eyes out for any mention of the man online without any luck.

That is, until Master Fu and the Miraculous entered her life. Slowly, she began to neglect her obsession with her biological father. Her passing crush on Adrien Agreste even faded away, never having much traction to begin with because of her overlying concern for the father that didn’t even know he had a daughter.

When Marinette was fourteen, the city of Paris was flooded and she had to swim through the quickly bloating bodies of the dead in order to defeat an Akuma. She reversed the damage and everyone who died was resurrected with no memory of their demise, but Marinette would never forget. All it took was a glimpse of the wrong face on the streets and she would be overcome with a panic attack, with the sight of glassy eyes and blue faces.

That was when Hawkmoth’s attacks picked up in intensity. When people began to die during Akuma attacks more frequently. When Marinette stopped sleeping in quite so much.

Her obsession over her father was a mere footnote by then, something she would idly look into on her ever increasingly rare free time with no success.

When Marinette was fifteen years, six months, two weeks, and two days old, Master Fu died. Marinette assumed the alias of Lady Strange, alongside her identity of Ladybug, so that the Miraculous wielders could contact her and know she was the new Guardian without knowing that she was also their leader in the field.

On the one year anniversary of Lady Strange being the Grand Guardian of the Miraculous, there was a worldwide magical disturbance.

Unlike Fu, Marinette did not limit herself to reacting to Miraculous problems.

—*—*—*—*—*

When Stephen glided back down from the equivalent of thousands of years bargaining and dying with Dormammu, he expected Hong Kong to be in a mess. It had been, from what he remembered of the scene before he created the time loop.

But it wasn’t. Instead, the streets looked as if no damage at all had been created. Kaecilius and his remaining zealots were tied up, quite literally, in what looked like string and hung upside down from a lamp post. Sitting down on the curb of the sidewalk and giving him a dangerously sharp glare was a young woman in a spotted costume, a mask over her face. When Strange realized he could not get any of her features to stick in his memory, he realized what she was.

Another magic user, but different from a Sorcerer. Her Neptune blue eyes bore into him with an intensity he was wholly unprepared for, but had no problem baring. After dying almost a million times, a guy tends to grow a backbone of vibranium.

Wong and Mordo stood on either side of the girl, both at a respectful distance. Wong had this wide-eyed look on his face, so much more expressive than usual that it caught the new Sorcerer Supreme off guard. Wong looked… awed?

Mordo, on the other hand, was regarding the girl with a look of barely disguised disdain and distrust. That was in character though, so Stephen didn’t pay it much mind. Instead, he walked over even as his bargain with Dormammu kicked in and Kaecilius’s cult was banished to the Dark Dimension.

“You reversed the damage, then?” He asked without beating around the bush, glancing down briefly to assure that the Eye was, indeed, still on him. It was. The girl stood up, her eyes continuing to blaze with an unknown soup of emotion.

“I did,” she confirmed easily. It wasn’t until he stopped only a few feet away from her that the sorcerer noticed how small she was. The only detail his mind allowed to stick with him besides that fact was that she also looked young. Too young to have to deal with a mess like this. “You might not know of me. The Temple Of Guardians made a deal centuries ago that all records of their existence and our own magic be removed from any Sorcerer sanctums.”

“The temple that appeared in Tibet out of nowhere more than a year ago?” Strange asked, eyebrow raised. “I remember the Ancient One briefly mentioning how much of a hassle it was to hide their reappearance and teleport the temple’s location somewhere new. I was under the impression that all the members of that temple have been in a pocket dimension separate from this reality for almost two hundred years.”

“They have,” the girl confirmed with a nod. “But before that, one of the Guardians escaped that fate. He became the Grand Guardian, and was my teacher until he passed last year. He named me the new Grand Guardian to take his place,” she turned, looking at something that Stephen couldn’t see. “I have illusions keeping us from being seen by the crowd, but it would be better if we took this inside the sanctum,” she said, nodding her head to the Hong Kong Sanctum’s door behind them. Strange simply nodded, more than willing to distract himself from his immeasurably long torture by indulging his curiosity. If this girl showed up and went out of her way to repair the damage the sorcerers and Kaecilius caused, then he wanted to know why.

“Wait,” Mordo barked, walking up to have a heated discussion with Strange that ended in the former storming off. Stephen knew he should be concerned about his former friend’s desertion, but he couldn’t muster up the energy for it yet. Focusing on the mysterious girl in a ladybug suit was an easier topic for his exhausted mind to latch onto.

When they got inside, the Sorcerer Supreme saw that she had even reversed the damage in the building. He saw a few scattered disciples rubbing their heads and looking around in confusion from their spots crouched on the floor. Stephen was almost certain he had seen those same people as corpses before.

The ladybug-spotted girl had scarcely removed her gaze from him for even a second, and easily picked up on the older man’s train of thought.

“My powers reversed all the damage I could handle, including physical wounds and death,” she told him. Strange blinked.

“That explains why I thought you all looked odd. Your clothes are spotless and you don’t look like you’ve fought at all,” he directed that comment to Wong, who merely nodded. “But that doesn’t explain how you can do such a thing. I’ve been intensely studying magic and magic theory for the past almost three and a half years, and I haven’t come across any healing spell that can be this effective without the subject of the healing themselves helping to work the power through their body. I know you are not a sorcerer like we are, but what exactly is your magic? Who are the Guardians? And who exactly are you?”

The girl pursed her lips, waiting until the two older men led her to the still-wrecked tea room. Her power hadn’t been able to reach that far when she had to focus on reviving so many people without the regular Cure. That only worked on victims of Miraculous magic, what she used on the Hong Kong streets and the Sorcerers was a more advanced usage of Tikki’s powers that she learned from both Fu and her periodic visits to the Tibet temple.

“The Guardians are a group of monks dedicated to the protection and distribution of Miraculous, which is essentially magic jewelry. I would normally go on to say how this might sound unbelievable, but you have a very similar pendant around your neck right now,” she pointed out once they all sat and Wong conjured some tea for them all. Stephen tensed at her mention of the Eye of Agamotto, his eyes narrowing. Did she..?

“I know what is inside the Eye,” she confirmed his silent thought, her voice soft but firm. “And I don’t care about it in the slightest. It is probably a good reference point for my explanation though. At the birth of the universe—“

“The Stones came into existence, each one representing and controlling a core aspect of reality,” Strange interrupted impatiently. “I am the Sorcerer Supreme, girl, I already know that.”

The young female rolled her eyes, huffing. “If you listened patiently, you would know that the story you were told is only partially true,” she snapped back with false patience. “The Stones were not the only things of great power to be created during the birth of the universe. Kwami, the first living beings to be born, were also created. They are each living representations of abstract concepts, some of which overlap with the powers of the Stones. The first to be born is the Kwami of Creation. She is essentially the goddess of creation itself, the living embodiment of that very term in every way. She is the source of my abilities, she lends me her power as I am her chosen Wielder. It is that same power of creation that allowed me to essentially counteract the destruction that was caused today, by having a condensed form of her power combat the direct source of the destruction and nullify it. The second Kwami to come into existence is her counterpart and the only one equal to her in power, the Kwami of destruction. There are a lot more, including the Kwami of illusion that used her power to keep us from being seen outside. And the Kwami Of time, which allowed me to experience the time loop you created,” the girl’s eyes sharpened again, boring into his own. “I left it after the equivalent of a few weeks, when I realized I couldn’t join you and do anything to help. The Kwami Of Time is about two-thirds as powerful as the Stone by itself, and there are more than double the amount of Kwamis as there are Infinity Stones,” she took a deep breath. “My job as Grand Guardian is protecting all of them, and distributing the jewelry they are bound to as necessary to combat world or reality threatening events.”

Strange remained quiet after that, drinking in the information and doing his best to wrap his head around it. Perhaps this young woman wouldn’t mind telling him more at a later date, especially seeing as they held equivalent ranking in two separate secret magical organizations. His eyes trailed down to a necklace she was wearing.

“How many of these pieces of jewelry—“

“Miraculous,” She corrected. “That is what they are called.”

“... Miraculous, then. How many are you capable of wielding at once, if they are so similar in strength to a Stone?” Wond asked, crossing his arms. The pigtailed girl leaned back from her spot sitting on the ground with them, humming in thought for a second as she decided what to tell them. A glance at Stephen seemed to make up her mind.

“Creation and Destruction hold equal power to a Stone. The Miraculous one stage lower than that hold four-fifths the power of a Stone. The last tier, where the Time Miraculous sits, is two-thirds,” she told them from memory. “I can wield Illusion, which is on the second tier, along with two third-their, and both Creation and Destruction at the same time,” she admitted. “But it saps a lot of my energy and I rather not ever do that again, if you don’t mind. I can wield all of the Miraculous though, since all of the Kwamis like me and are loyal. I can wear any three at a time, and I can switch between them as quickly as I need to.”

Strange really needed some sleep. Five thousand year’s worth of sleep would be nice. He ran a hand over his forehead, wondering who in the world gave this much responsibility and power to a child.

“One last question, and then you can spend the night if you wish, we’ll begin reconstruction of all the Sanctums in the morning,” Stephen spoke, forcing his back to straighten and his eyes to meet the girl’s. “You never answered it, actually. Who are you?”

The girl's mouth twitched in the first semblance of a smile he had seen on her yet.

“When I am in this transformation, I am Ladybug the hero of Paris,” she said with a grin. “Spots off.”

A soft pink glow ran down her body, very similar to the ring of power that sling rings produced to make portals. It left behind an adorable teenage girl with blue-black hair pulled back into pigtails, and striking blue eyes. She was clearly of Asian descent, but there was something else very familiar about the sharpness of her jaw or the stubbornness in her lip.

“My real name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. However, I go by an alias whenever I act as Grand Guardian, so that there is an extra layer of secrecy to protect me and my loved ones. I created that alias based on my biological father, who was never told that I was even conceived,” she said meaningfully, never losing eye contact with Stephen. His eyebrows furrowed.

“That’s pitiful, but what does—“

“My alias is Lady Strange.”

Wong barked out a short laugh before he forcibly covered his mouth, his eyes filled with sadistic amusement as he watched Strange’s reaction. The elder Strange, that is.

The new leader of the Sorcerers opened and closed his mouth like a fish, completely caught off guard. He looked over to Wong.

“Is there a spell to test paternity?” He asked warily. Marinette’s smile fell a bit, but Wong nodded.

A few flashes of orange light and two green ‘99% Match’ results later, Strange let his head fall into his hands.

“Alright, Marinette,” he finally managed to mumble through the slightly trembling appendages still covering his face. “I just spent thousands of years in a time loop with the Lord of Chaos, my back aches, my head aches, I will deal with this in the morning. Or whenever I wake up. Figures my own blood relation would end up in a position of extreme magical power, must be genetic. I still have questions, but sleep comes first. Don’t expect me to be a good parent. I really need sleep.”

Marinette just giggled, standing up and helping her father to his feet with surprising ease. “Just tell me where to go and I can drop you off in your room. No more magic for the rest of the day, you’re clearly spent. And as long as you make an effort, I’ll be fine. But don’t expect to ignore me and I’ll just go away, I have ways to track you to the ends of the universe and across the multiverse and time itself, and I will not hesitate.”

“Yep, she’s your daughter alright.”

“Sleep, Wong. It’s good for the brain.”

#mlb x marvel #doctor stephen strange #marinette dupain cheng #miraculous ladybug #doctor strange #no romantic pairing yet #Only familial pairing right now

562 notes · View notes

matt0044 · 3 years

Text

“I was Venjix!”

Admit it. None of you had ever thought that they’d actually pull it off if at all.

The episode hits the ground running with Nate putting an virus in the Beast-X Ultra Blaster to cripple Evox’s own. They drop the force-field just long enough to get a good clean shot in as their foe’s physical form starts to glitch just like the Avatars. However, he quickly hack into Grid Battleforce’s systems and download his body in tow in gunning for all the Morph-X Network access codes.

The Rangers track his essence in what is a very tense chase scene but only barely manage to blast the computer terminals after he gets the codes. Next, he dives into the Ranger Archives before making a bee-line for Nate’s vault. There, he manages to come out with a familiar silver brief-case. Inside... the RPM Series Cell Shift Morphers with Scott’s being the one he downloads from.

At long last, Evox reveals his origins... at the hand of Nate himself. When testing Morph-X with old Ranger tech, the young boy genius had combined seemingly raw data from the Red Cell Shift Morpher with Snake DNA. This combination resulted in Evox who had infiltrated the Grid Battleforce systems, lying in wait for the Morph-X Tower to become completed in the years to come.

Thus Evox declares himself as the one and only Venjix of the RPM dimension, shedding his snake voice as he returns to one-hundred percent. Hearing Andrew Laing’s deep base voice again was a real blast from the past but also impressive when you consider that his psydonym up until now was “Randall Ewing.” As in Daniel Ewing who played RPM’s Dillion, the human/Venjix hybrid.

I love this twist on many levels. First, the second half of Beast Morphers was not shy about referencing past seasons with the Beast vs. Dino team-up. Thus the precedence of a wider universe wasn’t lost on any newer viewers. They can tell that Venjix was a past villain who Evox had been created from. It helps that RPM is on Netflix in the event that they want to know even more of this menace.

You also have to consider that Chip had seen Go-Busters and gotten major RPM vibes from Messiah. I don’t think he had intended to make this twist right out the gate but it does seem that he was saving it in his back pocket just in case he got the go-ahead. I mean, I wouldn’t have blamed him if he forgotten about such a cliffhanger RPM had ended on but when opportunity knocked...

Venjix blasts the Rangers away and saunters off, leaving Nate all the worse for wear. The gravity of this revelation leaves him all torn up over being the one to have unleashed a villain who had actually turned his Earth into a wasteland. Abraham Rodriguez nails this episode with how he’d captures Nate’s distress.

The Beast Bots report in how Venjix is in one of the building sub-levels where they can cut him off. With a reluctant Nate, the Rangers head off without a moment to lose. Go Busters footage is utilized from Episode 30 where they entered Hyperspace and actually fought Messiah Cell along with resurrected foes. Most likely using old data that Scrozzle had saved for this very moment.

Venjix nullified the Beast Morphers weaponry the same way he had with RPM and tosses them around. I would’ve liked it more if they kept more of the Go-Busters footage where the Rangers try to ambush him only to find that his recovery time is improved. In any case, Venjix rubs salt into Nate’s wounds by giving the poor kids kudos for just about bringing about his full return to power.

Nate is too devastated to even do anything in the face of such hopelessness and lord knows how relatable he is this year. There’s something to be said about how many like him feel burnt out by a world that seems nigh unfixable to the point that he pushes Zoey away just to stew in his guilt. Thankfully, Devon comes up with the perfect solution by sending out a trans-dimensional callback.

Doctor K enters the laboratory via the Trans-Dimensional portal and absolutely owns this scene. Olivia Tennet is still spot-on with Doctor K’s speech pattern being rather robotic yet also emotive but on purpose unlike with Troy Burrows. The line where she pin-points her part in the archives and disapproved of the picture they used for her was classic RPM. Ziggy has been rubbing off on her.

It’s especially amazing when Doctor K gives Nate a tough but fair talking-to about just kicking back when the world’s ending. It feels like we’re getting a look at how she felt during the year before assembling her Power Rangers team. Again, it feels like today’s young Doomer being called out on moping about the world going to the dogs but never doing anything that could at least stave it off.

Though it would’ve been cool if Doctor K quoted her words to Colonel Truman in, “Ancient History,” about mistakes. She and Nate set to work on a new arrow for the King Bow that can damage Evox’s coding further. We also get a brief recap of “Danger & Destiny,” with the RPM Rangers have their faces obscured because unions I think. Even though this is archive footage being repurposed...

Ben and Betty try to help out Doctor K in what I can only assume gave her flashbacks of Alphabet Soup. She gives her a task of finding components of fuel she needs while the Rangers rush off to face Robo-Blaze for the last time in Go-Busters footage of the final episode. We sadly don’t get a cool shot of the Rangers with their visors busted up since they likely don’t have the props.

Nate’s arrow works on Robo-Blaze as it destroys him in one shot and restores the kid’s confidence. Doctor K sadly doesn’t stick around since she’s concerned that vestiges of the Venjix virus may be lingering in Corinth. Sadly, this is just when Scozzle connects Evox to the greater Global Morph-X Network.

Time for “Danger & Destiny Part 3.″

#Power Rangers #power rangers beast morphers #power rangers rpm #super sentai #tokumei sentai go busters #go busters #engine sentai go onger #go onger #nick #nicktoons #nickelodeon #spoilers #hasbro #hasbro studios #allspark pictures

11 notes · View notes

slightly-nerdy-rambles · 4 years

Text

Robstar Week Day 5: Righteous Fury (Prompt: Rescue)

This prompt gave me an excuse to do an action scene, and I love writing action, so it was definitely one of the most fun prompts for the week. The direction I chose to take it also gave me a chance to play around a bit with the interplay between Starfire’s emotions and her powers, and those of you who have read my fic Joy and Fury may recognize some of what’s going on in that regard.

Righteous Fury

The world was tinted viridian as Starfire scanned it from high above.

It was not really a world, per say. More of what Raven had called a ‘pocket dimension’ – the extradimensional space owned by that creature who had the gall to call himself the Master of Games.

The thief who had been travelling the galaxy and using a powerful artifact to steal away those who lost his games, so he could use their skills and weapons as his own. And like any thief, she was going to take him down and make him return what he stole.

“Starfire.” The sound of her name snapped her out of her idle thoughts, and she released some of her focus on joyful thought keeping her aloft. She’d been using him as the source, again – perhaps not the best choice of subject considering the circumstances, except that it made her all the more determined to find him.

Robin was her k’nonaki, after all – her great bond, the source from which she most easily drew her power-linked emotions. And if the “Master” thought he could take him away from her, she would only be too eager to prove him wrong.

“There are four main paths branching out of the coliseum,” she reported as she touched down by the others. “Besides the one that we know connects the competitor’s quarters, the others lead to a series of several large buildings.”

Cyborg nodded, a thoughtful frown on his face. “Must be the tournament arenas. At least that means he doesn’t have more of these mini-dimensions to go hiding in.” He turned toward Raven, who was sitting in her meditative position.

“Got anything?”

Raven took a few seconds to respond, standing up when she did. “He’s here. Robin’s aura is faint through the gem, but I can still sense him. But I can’t get a bead on the Master of Games without sending out my soul and alerting him that we’re here – he must be out in one of the other buildings. They’re in that direction,” she finished, pointing down one of the hallways.

Beast Boy rubbed one arm. “Guess we’re lucky he got Robin and not someone you don’t have a freaky mind bond thing with, right?”

Starfire shot a warning glare at him, eyes narrowed. “I do not see how this situation can be considered ‘lucky,’” she hissed.

Beast Boy shrank back from her, but Raven laid a hand on her arm.

“We’ll get him back, Starfire. Along with everyone else the Master captured,” she said calmly. “Getting riled up over it isn’t going to help.”

Starfire gave her a sideways look. “You forget, Raven. My emotions only strengthen me.”

With that, she turned and began to stalk toward the far path that Raven had pointed out. Herald, who had been called on to bring the team here when the Master had first vanished with their leader, leaned over toward Beast Boy.

“Do her eyes always glow like that on missions?” he asked in a low voice.

“Only when she’s about to eyebeam someone in the face or like, really pissed,” Beast Boy stage-whispered back. “I dunno if I’ve ever seen it last this long, it’s kinda freaking me out.”

Starfire ignored them and continued forward, but she swore she could feel their eyes on her back. The conversation died down after that, and everyone walked quietly for several minutes.

“…I should have warned everyone about that gem,” Cyborg finally said, his voice hollow. “When I got captured back in the Tournament of Heroes, I was trying to blast that thing. I knew it could be activated by prolonged contact, but it didn’t even cross my mind that nobody else saw it.”

Without a word, Starfire lifted off and poured on speed until the others disappeared behind her. She told herself it was so she could scout ahead, but… she knew Cyborg was just trying to be sensitive when he said “everyone.”

After all, Robin wasn’t the one who had tried a hard blast against that accursed gem. He’d merely jumped in the way to save her.

She would not let him suffer for her mistake. She could not.

The doors to the first arena were coming up fast. They were closed tight, locked probably, but Starfire barely even slowed down and simply smashed her way through.

There was very little to the floor and walls of the arena, which was instead dominated by a dozen massive cages hanging high above her. She drifted further in, scanning the area for any sign of her foe or the next exit that would bring her closer to him.

There. Up in the far wall, level with the rough midpoint of the hanging cages, a rounded balcony led out to another doorway. Probably so the Master could watch his “contestants” directly if he so chose.

As Starfire darted up to the balcony, the low blare of a horn heralded the opening of a portal on its level surface. The Herald and her remaining teammates stepped out, forcing her to halt before the doorway.

Cyborg held up a hand. “Star, you’re going too fast,” he said, gentle but firm. “If we spook this guy or give him too much warning, he’ll just teleport away and we’ll have to hunt him down all over again.

Starfire’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she dropped her gaze to the side. “There is nothing stopping him from leaving to find more victims if we wait,” she retorted, “and he cannot resist a challenge, can he? I intend to give him one he will not soon forget.”

“I think it’s safe to say we all do,” Cyborg replied, a little smile quirking the corner of his lip. “And we will. Together, because that’s how we beat someone like him.”

Starfire let out a low breath and nodded, though the blazing emerald never quite left her vision. He was right, of course – she could stay angry all she wanted, but letting her righteous fury blind her would only cause more problems. She had to remember that.

Cyborg nodded wordlessly to Raven, who raised her arms and enveloped them all in a darkness that pulled them through the next barrier without a sound.

By the time they were about halfway down the next corridor, Raven suddenly halted.

“They’re near,” she reported in a low voice. “The Master should be hiding in the next arena.”

The Titans all shared a look and a brief nod, but before they continued, Starfire thought of something. She flew over to her team’s current companion.

“The Herald? I believe it would be wise of you not to engage in this battle directly,” she said with a thoughtful frown. “If the Master of Games manages to take your horn, he will have an even easier time escaping us, and we may no longer be able to follow.”

Herald considered this for a moment. “Yeah, I can hang back for this one. Send me any victims you rescue from that necklace, and I’ll send ‘em home before your friend can capture them again.”

That matter resolved, the Titans soon found themselves at the next entrance. Through the thick doors, they could hear the clanging of metal-on-metal and occasional blasts from some energy attack the Master had stolen. Starfire caught Cyborg’s eye and raised her fists, and he nodded – for all that they couldn’t give their presence away too early, their opponent would be more likely to stick around if a bombastic entry promised an exciting “game.”

With a determined little smirk on her lips and the thought of her beloved’s rescue guiding her strength, Starfire smashed through the doorway like so much tissue paper and barreled into the arena. With a start, she realized that she recognized this one: it was the fighting ground she had been sent to during the brief run of the Tournament of Heroines. Thick steel beams criss-crossed an otherwise open space, spread far enough apart that flighted opponents could weave among them without too much trouble, but passing each other close enough that ground-bound competitors had places to jump from one to the next.

In the middle of it all, the Master of Games was flying on massive feathery wings and aiming another blast of red-hot energy at one of the beams. He paused mid-attack as she entered, turning toward her, and her hands lit up with starbolts almost of their own accord.

“We are not finished with you,” she spat.

“Yeah, Gameboy,” Cyborg chimed in behind her. “Last I recall, we were just getting started.”

The Master’s face twisted into a wicked smirk. “Another round? I don’t mind earning a few more trophies, even if I’ve already won the grand prize.” He punctuated that statement with a flick of his wrist, and Robin’s bo staff seemed to grow out of the palm and into his grip.

“Very well then! The Teen Titans versus The– Urgh!”

A powerful eyebeam – aimed at the stomach, she could not risk hitting his gem with that kind of attack – threw the villain back hard against the steel beam directly behind him. He peeled off after a moment and began to fall, his stolen wings twitching in a daze, but Starfire would not give him the chance to recover. Swooping in, she grabbed him roughly by the shoulder and forced him back against the beam.

But the Master had already recovered enough to bring the staff to bear. He bashed the butt of it into her torso, forcing her back with a grunt.

A rush of wings passed by her in that moment, and before the Master could follow up his attack, a large green woodpecker swooped in and gripped ahold of his necklace’s chain. With a force and precision designed to drill into trees, Beast Boy’s beak struck the gem.

A blazing light forced back shapeshifter and Tamaranean alike, and three figures came tumbling out. One was a Thanagarian – the source of the wings no doubt, considering they were suddenly gone from the Master’s back – but she did not recognize the other two, nor had she time to see if she could place their species.

“Get to the exit!” Starfire barked in Thanagarian, pointing the way in case the others didn’t recognize the language. “We will deal with him, but our friend can get you home.”

As they ran, the Master of Games recovered his senses with a growl. He was in the air again, doubtless with the aid of another victim’s power, but a hit from Cyborg’s cannon forced him back before he could attack. Beast Boy followed this up by swooping back in and grabbing the necklace again, but the Master swatted him away before he could peck at the gem.

As woodpecker shifted into panther and caught ahold of one of the beams, Starfire flew in again and began to harry her opponent with starbolts. He retaliated by spitting globs of slime at her, making her aim difficult, but it mattered little – her goal now was to keep his attention on her, for she could already see the dull glow of Raven’s magic enveloping the necklace to yank it off.

But even then the gem sparked to life, and Starfire swore she could see it pulling at her friend’s energy. Fear added to her blazing fury and warrior’s confidence and focused determined joy then. She could not let this happen again. She would not.

This ended now.

With a guttural yell, Starfire tackled the loathsome being who threatened her loved ones. The force of it drove them both down past the steel beams and onto the arena’s floor, knocking the wind out of her opponent. His gem, its hold on Raven’s power broken, swung wildly with the impact and clattered against the ground.

And with both hands lit and clasped together, she slammed her fists into it – a force that would have shattered a lesser artifact into a million shards.

Light filled the building again, and when it cleared, nearly a dozen newcomers were sprawled across the floor. One in particular grabbed Starfire’s attention, and the light in her eyes dimmed in an instant.

“Robin!” she cried, rushing over and dropping to her knees beside him.

Robin smiled and clasped the hand she offered him, pulling himself upright. “I’m okay,” he reassured her. “I could see what was going on, you know. You were… very impressive.”

Starfire let out a tired sigh and pressed her forehead against his, eyes closed. “I had an unusually personal stake in the matter.”

She could hear her other teammates’ hurried footsteps coming in behind her, but before they could catch up, another sound grabbed her attention. She turned to see the one who called himself the Master of Games standing up with a groan and looking at her and Robin with pure hatred in his eyes.

Beast Boy winced and spoke up while Raven silently directed the other rescued victims toward Herald. “Please tell me he doesn’t have even more people stuffed in that thing.”

Robin shot Starfire a confident smirk, which she responded to with a single sharp nod.

“If he does, we’ll just have to take care of that too,” he said aloud. “All of us, together.”

#Teen Titans #Robin #Starfire #robstar #robstarweek #Beast Boy #Raven #Cyborg #Herald #writing #prompt #fanfiction #Master of Games #I really wish we had another thing to call him #Why yes I am in fact planning on a Tournament of Heroines fic sometime further down the line

37 notes · View notes

fandomrecycling · 3 years

Text

Pax and her Potions: Prt 3/3

Part 1 & Part 2 @anxiousworm @vlanderzine yeet this is kinda long and I don’t regret it

Pax clung to the unburnt material of her cloak and tried her best to mute her crying. The pain hadn’t dulled and the smell was festering in the tight space she was buried under. Pushing herself up as much as she could, she listened for the whining-wail of the ghast that nearly blew her up.

Digging herself out with shaking hands, she coughed and spat out a mix of spit and coagulated ashes. Gingerly probing her back as she walked, Pax traced the edges of her burn. It was big, about the size of both her hands, spreading the width of her right shoulder blade. She did her best to hide the injury and make it look like there wasn’t a charred hole in her clothes.

Climbing back up the netherrack mountains and avoiding the piglin patrols ached. The sudden awareness of time also started chewing away at her.

Space in the Nether was a screwy concept Pax had only the barest idea of how it worked. Time was another factor entirely. She berated herself all the while as she backtracked to her tunnel, silently regretting ever choosing to jump into this hell as literally as possible.

Shuffling her hands around her midsection, her fingers bumped into the nether wart. Her train of self-loathing paused for a moment as she rubbed against the smooth texture of the forgien plant. Out of impulse, Pax tore off a bit and popped it into her mouth.

The flavour was surprisingly not terrible. It was some mix of sour-spicy and juicer than she expected from a plant that grew around lava pits and fire monsters. Even the aftertaste was tolerable. Pax wasn’t sure if that meant she was weird, or something else.

Finally coming upon her tunnel, she began her climb down and was filled with relief at the thought of being able to go to bed. Then, after hearing the sound of pickaxes beneath her, another moment of self realization hit her.

She’d thought of a way through the portal, but she hadn’t considered a way out. Thinking harder about it, the guards would be stationed by the portal and she didn’t know their shifts. So if she did go through, there’d be no easy way to escape.

“Fuck,” She hissed. She wanted to scream so badly, the urge clogged her throat.

Pax beat her frustration into the ground, punching and crumbling the sandy red stone under her fist. More bruises would form and some small, logical part of her said getting more injuries wouldn’t help. She ignored it until she worried that a knuckle would split.

Dropping her head between her legs, she sat at the mouth of her makeshift tunnel and tried to consider her options. Staying in the Nether was not viable and going home would mean facing her parents and whatever reaction they’d have to her. Pax laughed to herself, pushing up her sweaty hair and started to climb back down the tunnel.

The other miners in the main tunnel didn’t notice her - she pulled up her hood to keep them from recognizing her too - and most were solely focused on mining the quartz used to build the redstone components the engineers relied so heavily on.

That sparked the inkling of an idea. As Pax made her way back to the portal, she found a small vein and chipped away at some small fragments. Her pockets were stuffed to the brim but she managed to make room.

Shuffling down to the hub, a steady stream of workers and guards made their way through from the overworld portal. Most didn’t look too dissimilar from her, with ashy pants and faces from their time in this dimension. She kept her pickaxe hanging by her side to try and look like one of them as she shuffled through the crowd.

The sunlight was harsher than she expected on her eyes. Bringing up one hand to block her face, Pax realized with a startling fear that the sun was up.

“Hey, you there!” One of the guards called out. “Don’t move!”

Pax didn’t - running would’ve been futile - but still flinched when they turned to look at her face.

“Have you seen - Miss Valora?” He startled. “You - you’re here? Your parents are worried sick, come, I’ll call for an escort to your residence.”

“Sure.”

The march back felt more like a funeral procession to the wannabe alchemist. People pointed at her as she walked, Pax could imagine all the terrible rumors that would spill from this incident. No doubt her parents reputation would drop and any she had left would crumble to dust.

Cynicism drenched her mind as they came upon the street her house was built on. It wasn’t as if she cared what people thought of her and it wasn’t like they cared about her. Pax made a bet with herself on whether or not she’d be yelled at for leaving her room or causing a disturbance first.

“Miss Valora! Where were you! We had the entire city searching for you, this sort of teenage rebellion is idiotic. You’ve made yourself look like a fool!”

Flinching at the sound of her mother crying out, Pax shuffled into the doorway and kept at arm's length from both parents.

“Couldn’t find the materials for the farm. So I just went out and got ‘em.” She lied.

“Well why didn’t you just go into the markets? Why did you have to go into the Nether! You aren’t allowed to be by yourself in such a dangerous place at all!”

Pax rolled her eyes. “I probably shouldn’t be up till sunrise working on machines that aren’t broken, but we don’t always get what we want.”

“That was for you to learn! We both explained everything and you didn’t listen. Do you want us to yell at you?”

“Sure,” Pax forced her voice neutral. Her lip still twitched, “I’m gonna go change.”

She didn’t run up the stairs, but she could tell her parents were still behind her and intending on lecturing her. Pulling the door open and hastily throwing it shut, she frantically searched her room for something to barricade her door. A flash of impulse told her to just jump out the window and make a break for it.

Finally, when she heard her parents' footsteps pause by her bedroom and finally descend down the stairs, Pax collapsed to her knees and tore off her burned clothes.

“Didn’t even realize it,” she laughed with bitter satisfaction, “you didn’t even fucking notice. And they call me the idiot.”

Grabbing a spare water bottle to try and wash down the ashy taste in her mouth, Pax grabbed a small pair of shears and began cutting away the ruined cloak to make bandages. She cleaned off the wound as long as she could tolerate and finished wrapping her back.

Sorting through the resources she gathered, she tossed aside the quartz and dumped all of her new ingredients onto her desk.

The orange-slime thing the piglin gave her looked exciting, so Pax began with that. Under the morning light, she ran through all the steps of preparing the brewing stand before finally adding the nether wart. Watching it filter into the water filled her with the same mix of dread and glee exploring the Nether gave her.

Once it was finally gone, Pax was surprised to see that the water didn’t look that changed. There was a very, very slight, opaqueness to the liquid and the sense that something was different. Pax decided to trust her intuition.

Gathering a clump of the orange slime, the amature alchemist sucked in a breath and poured it into the brewing stand.

“Please work, please, please, please work for me just this once,” She begged, “don’t let this be a waste.”

It felt like hours were ticking by as she watched the water bubble in the glass bottles. Her fingers picked at her arms, nearly breaking skin from anxiety that crawled across her body.

She hardly believed it when the water turned a shimmering, rich amber.

“No way,” Pax’s eyes lit up.

Gingerly, she pulled the glass bottle free. The liquid was glowing, there was no mistaking it. Clapping one hand over her mouth, Pax could feel more tears running down her cheeks. Happy hiccuping noises filled her throat and she had to stop herself from dancing around her bedroom.

She didn’t even hesitate to swallow the entire contents. The spice was unexpected and the flavor burned deliciously down her throat. Pax relished in the sudden pulse of warmth through her body and the tingle of magic running through her veins. There was an effect, now it was just a matter of figuring out what.

That could come later, she jotted down that combination in her notebook and switched in a new bottle.

Pax blended together all the ingredients she could find; golden carrots, leaves, redstone, sugar, gold nuggets, anything and everything she could find stashed away in her room.

The orange potion, she realized, was a form of fire immunity when she ran into a torch and it didn’t leave a burn. The silvery-blue mix left her feeling hyper and charged with energy. When she mixed up her ingredients with extra blaze powder for the brewing stand, the mix left her feeling like she could fist fight a zombie horde and win. The one she accidentally dropped a golden carrot into cleared her vision and allowed her to see perfectly in the dim evening light.

It was only when Pax had ran out of clean bottles and all but the night vision had worn off did she relax against her bed.

“I actually did it,” she said to herself, “I actually did it. This worked, I did this. I did this.”

An immense feeling of pride rose in her. Then, after a pause, anger.

“Call me stupid now,” Pax scoffed.

She broke out into laughter bordering on hysterics. Her vision was sharpened beyond any normal senses, her thin muscles ripped with adrenaline and her entire body was immune to fire. No machine could accomplish this, no set of redstone and repeaters could grant this kind of power.

This was a lost innovation she’d rediscovered all on her own. Pax wondered what her parents would say about it.

Pax considered it. She’d done research, kept notes, and did all the things engineers did. Just with magic instead of redstone. And there could be practical uses for this; keeping miners in the Nether safe, helping people working in the low light mob farms, all manner of things.

The idea of being able to help others, combined with the hope of making her parents proud made for a compelling argument. But just to be safe, Pax hid away her brewing stand ard her notes, taking one of her fire resistance potions down with her as proof.

She’d ignored the call to dinner, but now she climbed down the stairs with her heart pounding against her chest. The table was silent, but the sounds of utensils on plates paused when she came down.

“So, there’s something I’ve been working on.” Pax muttered.

“I couldn’t hear that,” Her mother snipped.

“Speak up,” Her father ordered, “you know you shouldn’t mumble.”

Breathing out, she nodded, “I was working on a project in my free time. I finally had a breakthrough… and… I dunno, I thought you would want to know.”

Her hands were shaking as she pulled out the bottle and set it on the table. Both her parents stared at it, expressions unreadable.

“I-it’s a fire resistance potion. Like the ones from the stories, but it works I swear,” She started to ramble, “I took one and I fell into a torch but it didn’t burn me and I think if you fell in lava like in the cobblestone generators it’d be helpful to those working in them and prevent injuries and - “

Her mother pushed herself out of her chair and glared down at her, “This is what you’ve been doing? Is this why you tried to sneak out last night?”

“Y-yes but I promise it’ll be important. I can make more and I can - “

“This is what you’ve been wasting your time on?”

Glass shattered as Pax watched the bottle shatter across the floor.

“You idiot! You have so many opportunities and you’re wasting all of them! Me and your father have given you every chance to learn and you refuse every time! It’s like you want us to be mad at you, is that it?”

“It’s not!” Pax sobbed, “I don’t want this! I don’t want you to be mad at me! Do you seriously think I want this?”

“Then why don’t you listen to your mother?” Her father added, arms crossed with vague disappointment.

“I do! I swear I was really trying. I wasn’t being lazy!”

“Then why aren’t you better? If you really want to be better, then why aren’t you working to be better?” Her mother yelled back.

“Well maybe I’m just a fucking idiot then!”

Pax sprinted back up to her room. This time, she shoved her entire bed against the door. Eyes blurry, she ran to grab all her belongings and stuffed them into a bag and her pockets. Outside, it began to rain.

The wall she’d broken the night before was still loose.

She threw herself into the branches of the nearby tree, then downed one of her swiftness potions and made a break for the gates.

Guards stationed by the entrance noticed her approach. Pax barreled past then, throwing off their arms as she pushed towards the wilderness. Her vision was still saturated, and along with her tears, it gave everything she saw a blurry, dream like quality.

She couldn’t remember how long she ran for. When her legs finally started to cramp and the cold started seeping through her clothes.

Gasping for air and whipping her dripping nose, Pax looked up to her surroundings. Through the trees, she could see stars in the deep navy sky. Her vision flickered and everything went dark for a perilous moment.

She was cold, terrified and exhausted. The alchemist robotically ordered herself to find shelter and she started wandering deeper into the woods.

There wasn’t much that looked like shelter. But ‘shelter’ to Pax always looked like four walls and a roof. Before her potion effects faded, she spotted an entrance to a small tunnel and the faint light of a torch.

She nearly slipped on the stone as she made her way down. Oddly, Pax noticed that the torch was made from redstone. Shrugging off her wet cloak, she couldn’t find the energy to care about that anomaly.

Resting her shoulder against the perfectly smooth - were they supposed to be smooth? - walls of the cave, Pax rolled one of her potions between her fingers and listened to the patter of rain.

#minecraft #minecraft oc #mcoc trio #man I got invested in this #pax honey you don’t deserve this at all

7 notes · View notes

crystalelemental · 3 years

Note

I know it's way too early for this kind of speculation, but what do you think FE17 will be? the Genealogy remake would be interesting, but that'd possibly damn FE18 into a Thracia remake, much like Shadow Dragon/New Mystery. unless they decide to make it into 1 game, which doesn't sound probable to me. maybe they'll make a new story, with less, uh, questionable morals to keep the new 3H fans interested into the franchise? will they keep the calendar, the instruction stuff, or go back to the laid back way of Awakening/Fates/Echoes? you don't have to give a long answer if you don't want, I'm just musing a bit here

“You don’t have to give a long answer,” as if that’s ever stopped me.

What do I think it will be? I have no idea. But given its popularity, they could be considering it like a Tellius situation, with a prequel game. I don't think they can go sequel (more on that in the other response), but prequel with Seiros as the focus, going from the Red Canyon Massacre to the end of the War of Heroes? Sign me up. I would love more on that. And I adore games that focus on side stories (Thracia, Blazing Blade), so I'm super on board for a fleshed-out side story about that period in Fodlan.

I can't say what they'd try to do with gameplay, but I do think they'd keep a sort of "home base" kinda thing at a minimum. The instruction aspect of Three Houses was very specific to that game, and truthfully, I don't know if it will maintain. Not to be how I am constantly, but I hope it doesn't. I really feel like the monastery exploration and having to fine-tune instruction for students was more tedious than anything, and ultimately didn't add much to the gameplay experience. I also feel like the calendar was kind of a bad call too. A lot of events, as they're laid out, feel like they should be happening back to back. But because of the calendar focus, you have situations where it implies you traveled far off to engage in a big battle, but then just walked back to the monastery for a whole month before marching out the same direction. I don't think it blends events together all that nicely. Frankly I think Fates' decision to have a pocket dimension where you can take care of your bullshit was a better way to hand-waive the question of how you're able to backpedal and stock up in the midst of a campaign.

That said, any non-remake game, and possibly even the remake game, will take inspiration from Three Houses in the same way Fates and Echoes did from Awakening. The massive success of Three Houses is guaranteed to be an anomaly to them. They still don't know why Awakening worked, I doubt they'll know why this one worked. So I anticipate a lot of character tropes and storytelling angles will be reused in future games. They'll try to mess with perspective and the idea of hidden history muddying the morality of things for sure. I don't think there's any benefit for them to go back to more clear-cut morality. Even if there's a lot of fan argument about it (Edelgard and Dimitri fans), that's never a bad thing. That's still attention being drawn to your game. That's still discussion around it. No press is bad press, and this game is still more popular than the rest of the series ever had been. So they'll keep characters like Lysithea, and Bernadetta, and have that attempt at a complex plot, and a bunch of mysteries that never get answered, and oh god every MU is going to be like Byleth now oh god oh fuck.

But personally, I want the next game to be a Genealogy remake. I have issues with Genealogy as a whole, both gameplay and story-wise, and a remake could salvage at least some of that. Support conversations definitely could, and a changing of certain story elements would be nice, although Fallen Julia's already in FEH so like...there goes my greatest hope.

That said, I don't really want them to do too much? Like, Echoes added a few characters, and while those are some of the best in the game, a lot of that I feel like was to add any sort of significance to Alm's journey beyond the end goal. Alm's route would be boring as all hell without Berkut, so his inclusion was a massive benefit to the game. But I can't think of a situation where my qualms with Genealogy is "This just isn't engaging enough, we don't have enough people." Genealogy almost has too many characters. If anything their bigger problem is that characters and themes they set up are never utilized. So it's more about reworking the narrative a bit rather than needing to include things to make a blander game stand out, you know?

I definitely don't think they'd combine Genealogy and Thracia. I mean they could, but I don't think it's a good idea. Genealogy, again, has too many characters already. Combining the games leads to the question of where the hell Leif's army is, and that's adding like 50 characters to the roster. Since you deploy every unit you have in Genealogy, that's...way too much. They'd have to completely rebalance the game. Not to mention Thracia doesn't play at all like Genealogy, and is way too long to be a brief side-story or DLC exclusive. There's just no effective way to integrate the two. I think it would be better to just make the game after that the Thracia remake, which...honestly is the best possible outcome as far as I'm concerned.

Binding Blade may not have come to the west, but people know Roy, and this series started over here with Blazing Blade. We know a lot of Binding Blade information, by virtue of dedicated fans being upset the logical continuation of their starting point never got translated. Comparatively, Genealogy and Thracia are pretty damn isolated, and it shows in their CYL placements. They're not well known games at all, and gameplay-wise, they're really awkward and (in my humble opinion), not actually fun to play at all. A remake is ideal for those games, because it gives them a chance to gain more attention and popularity in the general public's eyes. Which is good! Genealogy does have a worthwhile story to tell despite my gripes about its problems, and I honest to god thing Thracia's one of the best stories in the series, with one of the best protagonists in the series. These games deserve more recognition than they get, and they're not gonna get it until they get remade to be more accessible.

It also dawns on me that the "less questionable morals" may have been about Genealogy's whole incest thing. Listen, I get it, but they can't take it out. I don't say this lightly, but that is like...the central point of Genealogy. The awakening of Loptous is a matter of converging its bloodline, which had only one surviving member. You really cannot work around this one, without making things either too confusing or too stupid. If they really felt the need for that, they might back off of the remake entirely, which would be to their detriment. But considering the Byleth/Rhea situation, I don't think they'll have much trouble. And besides, it's pretty clear that an act of incest was the catalyst for almost destroying the continent, so I think it's safe to say the game doesn't agree with the practice.

#zeldafanmaria #fire emblem

2 notes · View notes

maladaptive-ninja-returns · 4 years

Text

Devil’s No 1(11)

Chapter 11: Lights

Loki x fem!Reader, Bucky x fem!Reader

Theme: The definitions of devils, angels, demons etc. are twisted here in this world. But some things remain the same.

Series: Will contain violence, death, destruction, softness, fluff, smut, everything that my mind can conjure, really.

Chapter warnings: nothing much

A/N: This was written two years ago (I think) on @phantomrose96 ‘s prompt/situation of a shy girl summoning the devil to be friends with him (and something else that he does but I’ll leave that part out for you guys to have fun with). But I- being thirsty for tragedies- twisted things a little.

Word Count: sometimes I wonder if my dreams are just dreams or if they are telling me something. But telling a friend will be ill is still logical than showing me some ancient machine that controls the mechanisms of multiverse and leaving me there stranded with Captain America and what exactly?! What am I supposed to do there? Gaurd the multiverse? Keep a watch over them? Tell cap whenever I spot his husband and wife? What?!

It was the first time.

A first for him. First for you as well.

Comparisons were made of this very first with nearly everything first of nature.

The first bud blooming through a snow blanket. The first ember lighting up in the smoky twigs. The first ray of the warm spring sun. The first drop of dew falling from the trees on the cheeks. That's how your smile seemed.

Loki could have sworn you had never smiled in your life. That was until now when he stood beside you while you sat on the boulder, with- the usual- tears gathering up. Though this time, they did not reflect the colours like before. They reflected little twinkling lights trying to shine inside you.

Didn't seem like this devil knew how to smile. Loki's dimensions wanted to pull him away from your face but his eyes seem to be stuck on you, not coming off even if he wanted them to.

And you? You were stretching your lips even when it hurt because it felt good. So good.

Your inner voice, for the first time, was quiet for the moment, enjoying the picturesque Northern lights glowing in their green, pink and sometimes blue glory in front of you.

...but are we sure it's the northern lights that are making us feel so good right now.

There she goes.

It's the Northern Lights.

...so we're not going to talk about the-

"It's beautiful," you sputtered, trying to wrap your arms around your folded legs, adjusting yourself in the leftover snow crunching underneath your butt before catching a look at Loki and quickly steering your eyes back to the luminous dance.

"Hmm," Loki commented. You could still feel his gaze piercing through you. What was he doing?

"I've never seen one before," you continued, moving your one ring around your finger, twisting it as you floated through the thoughts running inside your head.

"Any special reason you wanted to see them?"

You closed your eyes and reran those words exactly as they were spoken, but in slow motion, tasting every click of the tongue, every twist of the lip inside your head; all of this swirling in an ocean of green.

"I always wanted to see them. Call it a child's curiosity-" you shrugged, opening your eyes to look back at the magic of nature- "even though science explained it all."

The icy wind wanted to play with your skin, coming within the intention of caressing it but running its nails right through your skin in the name of affection.

"I was supposed to see them last year," you muttered, more for yourself than for him, but it did not escape those ears that could hear the little flutter in your heartbeat and the shift in your body as you tried to bring your legs closer to you, your eyes now looking at some distant void that was nowhere near nature's light show.

"What happened? Curled into a corner at the last moment?" Loki scoffed, but his eyes were still frozen, emotionless, looking for a stir that his words would cause, as the crisp memories of your lips on his were doing to him.

There was a moment when you wanted to wallow in the memories of all that was gone. Just one tiny portion of time when you felt yourself looking down into the well of the past, waiting to take the plunge when a wave of chilly air stopped you and made you look at yourself.

"Do you want to do this?" It asked. And in the next gush of the moment, you were back on the boulder with snow all around you.

"My boyfriend left me," you announced.

You do not realise the surprise that jolted through Loki's vessel to hear those words thrown into the air without an ounce of remorse.

"Why?" The words were out of him before he could make sense of what was going on. His own being cursed him for suddenly feeling the need to unravel you instead of play when you were no longer his amusement but a mere soul wrapped in the alluring blaze of mystery.

"I don't know," you shrugged, scratching an itch on your cheek, "one day we were planning on visiting this place and the next day my life fell apart."

Loki remained silent.

"It seems funny now, though. I had planned for the whole day. Made an elaborate itinerary. And in the middle of the night, I get a call that my father was in a serious accident. Next thing I know I'm standing in the hospital as the doctors tell me the body is ready to be taken for cremation.”

A chill ran down the vessel whilst witnessing a void in those eyes that usually were a pool of emotions. Are humans not supposed to mourn their parents? But you continued like it was a story told by the campfire in the cold night to friends and strangers alike. Fiction. Made up.

“Now, that’s not the end of it. My workplace calls me to tell me I'll be fired if I don't come in that very day. And I do that. All because the boss spilt coffee on the project I made and wanted a month’s work to be done in one night. I actually go back to work to be blackmailed by my boss to let him fuck me if I wanted to keep the job."

You paused, pulling out a rolled-up joint from your pocket. It amused a very engrossed Loki to think that you took the time to gather these and take them with you. And the lighter too.

A cough or two- thanks to the amateur that you were- later, you came back to where you left off.

"You know," you continued, "I didn't realise the meaning of the phrase 'bursting of veins' till that day. How do veins burst? Do they make a pop sound? Do they go woosh and spray all over? Or do they just run like a tap? I didn't know that a glass trophy could make you bleed like that, you know. That it could cause so much damage. I honestly didn’t know that. Anyway, Gary got what he deserved and I filed my resignation, a complaint to HR and a lawsuit against the company. And just when I thought my day could not get any worse, I found Bucky gone. No sign of him at my apartment. Like he was never there. Vanished into the wind...just like he came."

Your face reflected the dislike you were feeling for the taste this joint left in your mouth, already throwing the barely burned part into the snow. The Devil saw thousands of souls moan all around you who would give themselves to the devil for that one good drag. But they weren’t what he got cemented on.

"The fact that he left doesn't hurt as much as the timing, you see. And those stupid blue eyes that looked like they could show you the most beautiful oceans even if you did not know how to swim. Like they could paint this world in beauty just for you. He made you feel that way. Like he would do anything for you. From making you a grilled cheese sandwich for breakfast while you’re still asleep to finding Atlantis just because you were curious.”

The winds slowed down. The lights swung in an aphasic glow. You breathed in the cold air to let your lungs cool down a bit from all the reminiscence. Loki was sure he heard you mutter ‘idiot’ under your breath, something that broke him into a muted chuckle. He took a step towards you, his hands moving with a flow of their own, conjuring up a flowing overcoat before those fingers even touched your shoulders. The warmth of that fur instant made you cosy up inside it. Adjusting it all around you, you settled down in the ground with the boulder now as your support to lean on. The heat was slowly doing what it did best. So did the talking. The fact that eyes felt droopy made you content on the inside. It also made you turn towards Loki and smile.

“I know Gary wants me dead. I just don’t know if you have been in on it.”

With that, you turned back to the Northern lights and dozed off into the furry luxury within seconds, meeting your old partner slumber after ages of heartbreak and pain, breaking into its arms to let it take care of you.

Loki watched you for a while. He watched you, to see whether those colours changing around you could answer riddles that brewed in this sombre atmosphere of his existence when no one looked. He studied every eyelash to ask what he had done this time to make him stand face to face with fate this night. He witnessed every strand of hair dancing with the wind to suppress the need to scream at the sky.

Ultimately, he sat down next to your sleeping form, summoning the bottle of Jager from your place to finish in one go. Ignoring the shrieks of all other dimensions, he pressed his jaw hard, placed his hand on your head and inhaled as much as he could.

“So, Bucky,” he felt his jaw tick, feeling the memories resurge under his touch, “boyfriend my hellfire-”

39 notes · View notes

preraphaelitepunk · 5 years

Text

Fictober19 Day 18: The Tea Is Hellishly Hot

Prompt #18: Secrets? I love secrets.

Fandom: Good Omens

Characters: Aziraphale, Crowley, Eric the Disposable Demon

Rating: Teen (a little bit of cursing, mention of canoodling, mention of enjoying being smacked around a bit)

Warnings: None

On AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/20843936/chapters/50149631

After all that bother with the failed assassinations, Heaven and Hell had promised to leave them alone. However, Aziraphale had been an angel for a long time — since before time technically began, in fact — and he knew exactly how trustworthy Upper Management could be over the long run. Sensible as always, he’d rigged the bookshop with sensors that would alert him to any other celestial or occult being who breached their perimeter. Forewarned is forearmed, and Aziraphale was sure it was only a matter of time.

The alarms were ringing in his head now.

“That’s far enough,” Aziraphale commanded, tossing his curls dramatically and brandishing his spray bottle. If Hell thought they could hurt Crowley on his watch, they were in for a nasty surprise: under all his outer softness was a fierce, blazing protectiveness, and messing with Crowley was just the way to rouse him. It was all a little thrilling, and part of him regretted that Crowley was in the back room and not able to witness his derring-do. “This bottle is filled with holy water. Hands in the air where I can see them, and no funny business.”

The demon widened his already big, extravagantly lashed eyes and backed against the door, raising his hands. “Hey, I come in peace. Just here to ask you guys to lunch.”

“I beg your pardon?” Not what Aziraphale had expected, but perhaps it was a cunning ploy to lower his guard.

“Lunch. You know, get together, have a curry, a few pints, have a bit of a natter. Catch up.”

“I know what lunch is, you fiend. It’s why you’re here asking me to it that’s confusing me. I had rather been under the impression Hell would leave Crowley and me alone.”

“Well, yeah, Hell, sure. But I’m not Hell, I’m just Eric. I work there, ‘course, but you know how it is. Me and Crowley go way back. The invite’s for both of you.” Eric gave a shaky grin. “Can I put my hands down now?”

Frankly, the demon did not seem particularly threatening, but Aziraphale did not lower the spray bottle. “Oh, very well, just keep them where I can see them,” he said testily. “Crowley?”

“What is it, angel?” Crowley’s voice came from the back room of the shop, where he’d been messing about with his computer phone or something.

“There is a horned gentleman here inviting us to lunch.”

“Wut?” After a few seconds Crowley emerged, and his face lit up in a smile. It even seemed genuine. “Hey, Eric, my dude, my compadre, my droog. How’s it going?”

“Frankly, it’s been better.” Eric batted his remarkable lashes at the spray bottle.

Crowley seemed to notice the deadly weapon for the first time, and leapt forward. “It’s okay, angel. Put it away. Eric’s not one of them.”

“Are you quite sure? He certainly seems to be a demon.”

“Oh, he’s a demon all right, but that’s not his fault. He was just born that way.”

Aziraphale noted the fact that demons apparently could be born as well as Fall, but filed this aside as a discussion for another time. “So you trust him?”

Crowley shrugged. “As much as I’d trust anyone who isn’t you. He’s one of the good ones.”

“Oi!”

“Sorry. One of the likable ones,” Crowley amended.

“That’s better. Er, worse. Whatever — that’s more like it, ’swhat I mean.”

Crowley turned his lopsided grin back to Aziraphale. “Blaming him for all of Hell’s doing would be like, dunno, blaming the Amazon warehouse worker for Jeff Bezos’ policies. He just works there, ordinary demon, gets by the best he can. Not his fault Lower Management are pricks. And he’s not a threat.”

“To you guys? Nah. And even if you weren’t invincible, I’d, like, never go up against you, Crowlers. If they told me to, I’d botch the job on purpose. You’re cool. Never discorporated me even once, all the years we’ve known each other.”

“Well, if you’re sure, dear.” Reluctantly, Aziraphale lowered the spray bottle and returned it to storage its pocket dimension; if Crowley was wrong about this demon, at least the holy water was no farther away than a snap.

Eric relaxed, his shoulders dropping. “Thanks. I really just came by to ask you guys to lunch. Wanted to catch you up on all the hot goss. Got some top-secret stuff.”

“Secrets? I love secrets.” Crowley’s eyes flashed just a smidge yellower, and he smirked. “Let me grab my coat. Angel, you coming?”

There was no way Aziraphale was leaving him alone with this demon, no matter how confident Crowley seemed. “Most definitely, darling.”

*** ***

Now that Aziraphale could examine Eric more calmly, he realized the horns were actually hair sculpted into twin points. His corporation looked young, almost anime-like with his luminous eyes, flashing grin, and heart-shaped face. As yet, he had entirely failed to attack either him or Crowley, but that could just be some clever demonic ruse.

“So what’s the tea?” Crowley said through a mouthful of veggie samosa. Evidently the trick to getting him to eat was to offer him fried savory cakes with potatoes in.

Aziraphale shot him a puzzled look. “We don’t have tea, darling. It’s lager.”

“Means gossip, angel.”

“Oh. I expect they’re all wondering how you survived the holy water, dear,” Aziraphale said tartly, dabbing at his chicken makhani sauce with a roti. He was slightly put out about how nice the food was; he’d prided himself on knowing all the best restaurants in Soho, and here he was, being shown up by a whippersnapper of a demon.

Eric rolled his eyes. “Oh, that gossip is so fourteenth century. Nobody even cares about that any more.”

“Mmmrrph?” Mouth too full now to even try talking, Crowley shot a perplexed glance at Aziraphale.

“No, what everyone is talking about is,” Eric put down his spoon and leaned forward conspiratorially, “Lord Beelzebub and Gabriel.”

There was a long, confused moment of silence. “What about them, exactly?” Aziraphale finally asked, not sure he wanted to know.

Eric looked smug around his spoonful of chole chawal, letting the tension build until he swallowed. “They’ve been spotted sneaking around together. On Earth. Being all furtive-like.”

“Well.” Aziraphale shook his head, trying to resettle his brain. “Perhaps Heaven and Hell have simply decided to open diplomatic relations?”

“Relations, maybe, but definitely not diplomatic,” Eric smirked, dark eyes sparkling. “Word is, they’ve been seen holding hands.”

Crowley choked, bits of peas flying. “What?”

“And canoodling. Earth Observation was passing around photos, and there’s one where Lord Beelzebub is swatting Gabriel over the head with a newspaper.”

“That’s practically foreplay for them.” Crowley looked a bit ill. “Are you sure? Was it really a newspaper? Maybe it was a lead pipe, just magicked to look like a newspaper. That would be more their style.”

“Definitely a newspaper. And,” Eric dropped his voice again, “rumor has it that there’s one of them kissing.”

Suddenly Aziraphale was no longer hungry. He pushed his plate away, half eaten. “That is, er, remarkable news. Isn’t it, Crowley?”

“Er, yeah. Remarkable.” Crowley’s eyes were unfocused, and he was chewing his lip. “They were kissing?”

“That’s what I’ve heard.”

Crowley tilted his head thoughtfully. “That’s quite a height difference they’ve got there. Was Beelzebub standing on a box or something?”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale admonished, giving his demon’s hand a light swat. “Such speculation is entirely improper.” And even worse, he now had that image in his own head.

“Were there tongues involved? Hands? Over or under —” Crowley jumped as Aziraphale kicked him under the table. “Sorry, angel. It’s just, it’s like a train wreck: you can’t stop looking at it in your head.”

“Indeed. But kindly knock it off, darling.”

“Ooh, slang from within living human memory! I’m impressed, angel.”

Eric seemed to be enjoying their exchange immensely. “See, I knew you guys would want to hear this.”

They spent the rest of their meal analyzing the potential reasons behind Beelzebub and Gabriel’s assignations. Aziraphale, who’d recovered his appetite once kissing was off the conversational menu, was sure it was a ruse of some sort, possibly to lure him and Crowley into a confrontation. Crowley thought Gabriel just had a bit of a kink and enjoyed being smacked around by a short, cranky demon. “Nothing wrong with that, and I bet Beelzie wields a mean rolled-up newspaper.” Eric, surprisingly, voted for love. Grudging and embarrassed and slightly weirded-out love, but love nonetheless.

After Eric paid the tab (“I insist; I invited you. Just because I’m a demon doesn’t mean I can’t have manners”), after the shuffle of putting coats back on, Eric said, “So, Aziraphale, is it okay if I come back sometimes to see you guys?”

Aziraphale blinked. “Why ask me?”

“Well, I know you don’t really trust me. That’s cool and all, and I don’t really blame you. I don’t trust most demons, either. But it’s been cool hanging out with people who haven’t tried to discorporate me at all for an entire meal. I’d like to do it again. Not too often, don’t want to get all up in your hair or anything.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and staring at his shoes as if they were the most fascinating things in existence.

Aziraphale glanced at Crowley, hesitating. Crowley nodded and leaned in to whisper, “He’s lonely, poor sod.”

Eric had been true to his word about not attacking them; he’d been lively company, funny, thoughtful, nice. And what kind of treatment was he accustomed to, when his standard for a good meal was not being discorporated?

“That would be lovely, Eric,” Aziraphale said gently. “Perhaps next month, first Saturday? But I must insist you let us pick up the tab next time.”

#fictober19 #good omens #good omens fanfic #ineffable spouses #ineffable husbands #my fanfic #fluff #aziraphale/crowley #disposable demon #eric the disposable demon

39 notes · View notes

anistarrose · 5 years

Text

Ford in Amphibia

Summary: Anne and the Plantar family take in an eccentric new guest.

Word Count: ~2100

Warnings: none

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19375102/chapters/46100365

Part 1 of… 2? 3? Probably somewhere in that ballpark, but it really depends on if the still-progressing canon of Amphibia throws me anything new.

This chapter doesn’t require much Amphibia prior knowledge to read, though — as long as you’ve seen the first pair of episodes, you’ll be fine!

***

“Anne! Anne? Anne, you gotta wake up! It’s an emergency!”

“Ugh, what?” Anne sat up in her bed, rubbing her eyes as she checked the time on her phone. “Five A.M.? What the heck is going on, Sprig?”

“The whole town’s outside our door! And they’re asking for you, and saying it’s urgent!”

Sure enough, a muffled slamming noise sounded from aboveground, followed by of a chorus of distressed ribbits.

“But… I didn’t even do anything bad yesterday! What do they want with me?”

“Doesn’t matter! We can’t afford them bringing out the battering ram to bust down our door again, so c’mon!” Sprig grabbed Anne by the hand, and dragged her upstairs.

There was thankfully no battering ram in sight when Anne threw open the door to face the citizens of Wartwood, but it looked like Sprig hadn’t lied about the whole town being outside. He had, however, neglected to mention that nearly all of them were wielding torches, pitchforks, and other staple weapons of angry mobs.

“Here she is, the girl of the hour!” Sprig offered weakly. “… Please don’t kill her?”

One-Eyed Wally sprung forward, and Anne flinched — but rather than attacking, he cast his pitchfork to the ground, and took her by the hands. He gave a quick bow, and Anne realized his one golden eye was wet with tears as his head bounced back up to meet her gaze.

“Thank goodness you’re here! You’re the only one who can save us now! Please, my lady, I beseech you!”

“Uh… not sure I’m following what’s going on here…”

“Another foul beast has been spotted roaming these parts,” Mayor Toadstool explained, pushing his way to the front of the ground. “Go on and tell them what you saw, Wally. Be brave.”

Wally’s hands trembled as he spoke. “It had a haggard gray mane, and its eyes reflected red light brighter than the moon itself! It loomed over me like a mountain, and it — it —”

He rummaged around in his pockets, and pulled out a few charred pieces of what must have once been a tree branch. “It fired bolts of lightning out of its arm! It just barely missed me, but it reduced a mighty old oak to ash in a single strike!”

“But since we’ve tamed a loyal beast of our own, she can drive it away for us!” Toadstool finished. “Then the town will be saved, and none of us will have to risk our precious lives fighting it!”

“What?!” Anne gasped. “You really think I could chase off something like that? And — and even if I could, I’m not your attack dog!”

A murmur went through the crowd, and Toadstool looked seriously ready to debate the attack dog comment, but Sprig spoke up before he could say anything.

“Anne, wait! You should hear them out — you know how everything gets overblown whenever Wally’s the one telling the story. Maybe it’s another lost human, and this whole situation is just a misunderstanding!”

“Look, I accepted a while back that I’m the only human in this world,” Anne shot back. “If there were more, we would’ve crossed paths by now for sure! But… I guess Wally is kind of prone to overblowing things…”

She sighed. “Okay, tell you what. I’m not fighting that beast, but tell me where you last saw it, and I’ll do some recon on it for you guys.”

Wally immediately burst into tears. “You’re a hero!” he blubbered. “This town will owe you a debt for the rest of your days!”

“Oh, I don’t know about that —” Toadstool cut in.

It was only then that Hop Pop walked into the living room, stifling a yawn. “Kids? What’s all this commotion about? Anne?”

Anne darted past him, back into the basement, and emerged a minute later wielding her tennis racquet.

“No time to explain! Gotta go risk my life for strangers by hunting a lightning monster!”

“See you soon!” Sprig added as the two of them sprinted off into the early morning light. “Maybe we’ll bring back another monster from the woods, and let them live in our house too!”

***

Ford’s patience for the frog dimension was wearing thin.

It had felt (quite literally) like a breath of fresh air at first, after spending close to a week consorting with unsavory characters in the alleyways of a sprawling, smog-filled metropolis — but limited signs of civilization meant traipsing through long swaths of muddy terrain, and mud meant that new boots would be ruined and silent movement would be nearly impossible, and… well, he could go on and on about why he hated swamp environments. The list of inconveniences just never seemed to end.

Ford didn’t actually mind amphibians — in fact, they accounted for some of his favorite anomalies back in Gravity Falls. He didn’t even mind the anthropomorphic frogs that watched him from afar and then fled before he could approach them — directions would have been convenient, sure, but he still had faith in his navigation abilities.

No, what he hated were the frogs that crept up behind him at the earliest hours of the morning, and nearly gave him a heart attack because they just happened to have BRIGHT YELLOW EYES. Or worse, in the case of today’s encounter, just ONE bright yellow eye. Why couldn’t those frogs be the ones who minded their own business?!

A branch snapped behind him, and he whirled around, gun in hand.

“Come out where I can see you!” he barked. “I’m willing to resolve this peacefully if you are, but try anything funny and I won’t hesitate to shoot!”

A bush a few feet away let out a small whimper, followed by a series of hushed whispers like it was having a conversation with itself. Finally, the culprits peered out, hands above their heads…

Human hands, in one case.

“There are humans in this dimension?” Ford asked, just as the girl blurted out: “Wait, are you a human too? How did you get here?”

There was an awkward pause, before Ford replied: “Even if we are of the same species, there’s no guarantee we come from the same dimension.”

“Are you some kind of space pirate? Am I on another planet?” the girl asked at the same time, speaking over him. “Or a time traveler? Have I been in prehistoric times all along?”

“Uh… not exactly either of those, but closer to the first one,” Ford told her.

This didn’t feel like a trap. The human girl seemed genuinely inquisitive, and her frog companion looked scared out of his wits, not scheming. “I apologize for being so hostile before. I’ve just been on guard lately.”

“It’s fine. I did pretty much the same thing when I got here too,” the girl assured him. “I’m Anne Boonchuy, and this is my buddy Sprig. Nice to meet you!”

“Likewise. I’m Ford.”

“Just Ford? What, no last names on your planet?”

Ford sighed. “No, I just don’t like sharing personal information. You never know what identity thieves might lurk in unfamiliar worlds.”

It was his go-to lie when dealing with kids, since it sounded a lot less intimidating than there are a lot of extremely ruthless people after me and the less I tell you about myself, the less likely they are to be a threat to you. He didn’t think Bill’s minions would have much influence here, but it didn’t hurt to err on the side of caution.

He and Anne shook hands, and he couldn’t help but cringe slightly as she looked at his fingers and frowned in confusion.

“I can’t help but notice you’ve got, uh, more than the normal number of fingers… or is six fingers normal where you come from?”

“No, I carry a rare genetic mutation that causes polydactyly. I’ve always been something of an anomalous case, even in the world I hail from.”

“Wow, you sound like a pretty smart guy.”

“Well, I would hope so! My eleven PhD’s didn’t earn themselves.”

“Dang, you are smart!” Anne’s eyes lit up. “Hey, want to come back home with us? I’ve got some, uh… weird odds and ends from my world that I want an expert opinion on.”

“I dunno,” Sprig piped up, speaking for the first time since his exchange with Anne in the bush. “It worked out well when I brought you home, but… are you sure he’s not gonna eat us? He feels like the type of person who would eat us — he’s too fluffy for it to be anything but a trick, to make him look less threatening!”

“Oh, it’s just my beard that’s scaring you?” Ford asked, pulling a lighter out of his pocket and squinting as he held it just beneath his chin and flicked the wheel. “Because I can get rid of this real quick if I just — ah, here we go!”

He let the blaze travel up his face for a few seconds before patting it out, ignoring Anne and Sprig’s slack-jawed expressions.

“Dude,” Anne gasped. “Did you just set your face on fire?”

“Well, how else am I going to get rid of a whole beard in under thirty seconds? Not by shaving, that’s for sure.”

***

Anne motioned for Ford to sit down, and he did so as she unfolded the cloth concealing the object resting in her lap. The Plantar family had been surprisingly charitable towards Ford, feeding him breakfast and insisting that the couch was always available if he needed somewhere to sleep — just as charitable as they’d apparently been to Anne, when she’d abruptly been tossed into their lives not two weeks before.

She’d given the summary of her story over breakfast, and in return, he’d explained the very basics of his story to them: that he seeked to eventually overthrow a tyrant who threatened many parts of the multiverse, and that he traveled from dimension to dimension with very little control over where he would end up. Anne had seemed disappointed to hear that second part — presumably because she’d been hoping Ford would have a way to get her home.

But maybe, not all hope was lost in that regard just yet.

“This is the music box that brought me to this world,” Anne explained, tossing aside the cloth. “When I opened it for the first time, it flashed all colorful and I woke up here, but it hasn’t worked since.”

“Peculiar,” Ford muttered. “Where exactly did you find this music box?”

“Just a weird knickknack shop,” Anne answered, a little two quickly.

“May I hold it for a moment?”

“Sure.”

She handed it to him. It was metallic and oddly cold, far colder than anything should have been on this sweltering day — almost as if it was magically draining the heat from Ford’s hands. He held his wrist in front of it and pressed a button on his watch, and a grid of laser dots were projected onto it, signifying a scan in progress.

“Those gems were more colorful when I first found it,” Anne explained. “But they’ve been gray ever since I got here.”

“Hmm. Well, here’s your problem: this box was once a vessel for a large amount of magical energy, but that energy has since been depleted — presumably when it brought you to this world. That’s probably why the gems lost their color, and why it can’t transport you back anymore… but if you were able to recharge that supply of magical energy somehow, I think there’s good odds it would take you home. Either that, or it would take you an even more foreign dimension of even weirder creatures. No way to know for sure unless you try?”

“Well, that’s the best lead I’ve got by a long shot,” Anne told him. “How do I recharge it?”

Ford shrugged. “Good question. I’ve got no clue.”

“What? C’mon, aren’t any of your PhD’s in cursed music boxes?”

Ford shook his head. “Magic is a fickle thing, and it works differently in almost every dimension. In one world, you might learn how to cast a spell that rains bolts of lightning down on your enemies, but in another, you might barely be able to summon a spark using the same ritual. Even if I’d encountered a relic like this before, there’s no guarantee that yours would obey the same rules.”

“Oh.” Anne’s face fell. “Well, thanks for your help anyway.”

“Keep you chin up,” Ford told her. “Your search for answers has only just begun — there’s still plenty more research to do, and plenty more chances to have a eureka moment! And if you have any questions of the scientific sort… well, I’m not sticking around forever, but while I’m here, don’t hesitate to ask me anything.”

“Thanks. Will do.”

#gravity falls #stanford pines #amphibia #anne boonchuy #sprig plantar #disney amphibia #rosalia writes fic #fic: ford in amphibia

68 notes · View notes

dragonroyaly · 5 years

Note

What are your ships LGBT and height headcannons for the Aphmau characters? And last names? You don’t have to do all of them just all you want to, since there are a lot and that would take ages

Bold of you to assume I have better things to do. I’m gonna try my damndest to include all of them, let me know if anyone slipped my mind.

As a warning, most of these are entirely ignoring cannon and instead, are in my personal little Aphmau Pocket Dimension, as most headcannon things are.

Aaron Lycan, Demisexual Demiboy, 6′3, Aarmau, honestly I feel like him, Blaze, and Nana-chan are really really close but entirely platonically. Like they’re not fucking afraid of platonic intimacy heaven knows they all need it. You’ll find them in a cuddle pile with like ten blankets and pillows around them that’s just how my lovely little platonic Blaaron-chan is.

Melissa Lycan, this bitch gay as hell it’s cannon, 6′1. The Lycan siblings are TOL. I ship her with Lucinda and Cadenza, it’s a poly thing!

Aphmau Shu, Local Bisaster Goddess, she’s an entire 5′5 in height. Aarmau, of course, and Katemau! It’s an open relationship becuase she wanted to date both of them.

Ein Leider, honestly I feel like I’m gonna be yelled at for this, but he’s hella gay, 6′0, Blein/Blazin/whatever their ship name is.

Katelyn McKai, she’s Bi, it’s cannon, 6′5, Katemau. Aphmau has a Thing for tall people. But like, who doesn’t?

Kacey McKai, he’s pan, 5′11, I ship him with Daniel. Don’t ask why. I don’t know.

Blaze Piper, Bi bitch (Owns a hoodie with the bi flag on it saying Bi Bitch Blaze. Nana and Aaron got it special made for him. He loves it), 6′5, Blein/Blazin/you know the drill what’s their ship name this week.

Garroth Ro’Maeve, he’s gay as heck dude, 5′9, Garrance.

Zane Ro’Maeve, another Bisaster, 6′0, I ship Zanvis.

Vylad Ro’Maeve, transgender pansexual, he’s an entire five feet tall, I ship him with Dante but kinda in a ‘No one actually knows if they’re really platonically close or like full-blown dating or hey they might hate eachother guts and just be fuck buddies I have no fucking idea’ way

Gene Scarleto, transgender asexual panromantic, 6′0, I ship him with Zenix, Sasha, Kim, and an OC.

Dante Scarleto, pan disaster, 5′4 (Smol as Heck), Vylante, also I like to platonically ship him with Katelyn and Nicole like I’ve done with Aaron, Blaze, and Nana-chan.

Sasha Celeste, functional asexual panromantic, 6′9 (TALL), shipped with Gene, Zenix, Kim, and an OC.

Zenix Venmon, genderfluid pan, 5′3, see above for ships.

Kim Neraida, pan disaster to the very core, 5′5, see above for ships.

Nana Ashida, yet another pan disaster, I promise I’m not doing this on purpose, 5′7, I ship her with an OC.

Travis Valkrum, pangender pansexual diaster bab, 5′10, Zanvis.

Cadenza Zvhal, she’s Mystreet’s local sword lesbian, 6′0, shipped with Melissa and Lucinda.

Laurance Zvhal, Bottom Bi Bitch (Have you SEEN his ‘Maxium Sass’ shirt? No straight man could wear that. (Apologies for Tumblr apparently not having a goddamn underline function)), 6′5, Garrance. I wanna say he’s the tallest twink you’ll ever meet but I feel like I don’t have a good enough grasp on that kind of language to fully know what I’m talking about there.

Lucinda Shadowmark, she’s pan but likes girls the best, 5′5, Cadenza & Melissa.

Daniel Ross (I blanked out for this one please go easy on me), the purest bi bean you’ll ever meet, 5′8, I ship him with Kacey.

Uhhh

I’m blanking out here.

Dottie Summer, bi, 5′10, she’d die for June.

Rylan Terra, transgender pansexual, 5′11, I don’t ship him with anybody honestly.

June Hyacinth, super gay, 5′9, in love with the one and only Dottie Summer.

Ivy Melrose, she’s a lesbian, 6′0, I ship her with Jenny, Diana, and an OC.

Jenny Rose, she’s a pansexual disaster, 5′9, see above for ships.

Diana Aderson, Bi bitch, 5′7, once again, see above for ships.

I know for a fact there are more but no one’s coming to mind right now, lemme know if there’s anyone specific you wanna know about that I forgot.

#I Was Asked Shit #Aphmau #I'm not tagging all the fucking characters no

22 notes · View notes

aethelar · 6 years

Text

See, the thing about Newt. The thing about Newt is that he lives for his creatures. Do you understand?

He starts with just a couple. He never really means to bring them with him, but they’re wounded, perhaps. He patches them up, best he can, and tries to let them go because wild creatures should stay wild, shouldn’t they? (after all, look at his dragons, look at his hippogriffs, look at the creatures wizards sent to war and look at the way they died. no, creatures don’t belong with people, Newt is certain of this) So he does for the creature - a dobhar chu, let’s say, an Irish otter both larger and more fish-like than the usual non-magical fare - Newt does for the dobhar chu as best he can and he takes it to the river and lets it go. It dives straight for the water and doesn’t look back and this is how it’s meant to be.

Newt turns to leave and there’s a tail wrapped around his ankle.

He looks down; the dobhar chu looks up. He points at the water; the dobhar chu obligingly pulls him into it. He coughs, chokes, splutters his way back to the bank; the dobhar chu hops out and waits for him with a tilted head and a lolling grin.

It takes Newt five days, in the end, before the creature is comfortable enough to leave him be on the river bank while it swims upstream to explore. He hesitates, because he knows the only reason it feels safe enough to leave him is because he’s convinced it he won’t run away, but - but wild creatures don’t belong with people.

He apparates out and it feels like abandonment and guilt.

But then, then there’s a runespoor with its middle head barely still attached; Newt wraps it in bandages and fashions a cone to keep the middle head safe, and while he’s distracted the other two wind around his shoulders and refuse to let go.

There’s a kneazle, and it wants people, it’s used to people, it’s been around people all its life until its owner died and its owner’s son threw it out on the street.

There’s a niffler, and Newt tries to set it free every week for a month before he admits defeat and gives it a home with him. “Sometimes I think you get in trouble on purpose,” he tells it, arms crossed and frowning as he looms over it. The niffler hiccups, drunk on gold and giddy with it. “There are other ways to get my attention, you know. You don’t have to rob a bank every time you want me.” It waddles slowly towards him and collapses, content, on his shoes. It doesn’t even protest when Newt tickles it into giving up it’s mountain of treasure; it got what it wanted. It’s happy.

Newt’s started building habitats for them in his case. Basic, for now, but he’s learning and inventing (he makes more mistakes than successes and twice now he’s collapsed the dimension-pocket while he was still inside, twice now he should have died but didn’t and he keeps on going because his creatures need him to) and he’ll make them better, just give him time. He travels, taking his case and his creatures with him and he’s never sure where he’ll end up or what draws him to a place but he always seems to get there in the end.

(he rescues the bowtruckles from a forest fire and he hasn’t the time to do anything but curl around them and shield them from the flames and it hurts, it hurts it hurts it hurts but when it’s done it’s done and the bowtruckles fuss over their new tree and knit back his broken bark with careful fingers and gentle squeaks)

Sometimes, he thinks he’d like to stay somewhere for longer than he does, but he never seems to. Sometimes he meets people who he thinks could be friends but they never last long. He must be annoying, he thinks. He turns the cup of tea in his hands and ignores how cold its grown and wonders what he did this time to drive this friend away. He waits another hour before he gives up and leaves it undrunk on the table; he takes the next train out of town and there’s no one left behind to miss him when he goes.

(the fwooper sensed him passing and sang to him, calling and calling until she drove him mad, calling and calling again until he found her and unlocked her cage and set her free. his eyes shone fever bright and the runespoor clucked over his shoulder and hissed that she broke him; she settled herself smugly into his life and sang backwards to remake him again)

“I don’t want to do this,” Newt says once, low and horrified. He hovers on the edge of the doorway and hopes with every fibre of his being that the men inside will put down their wands and prove him wrong. His own wand feels alien and deadly in his hand. “Please,” he whispers. “Please, I don’t want to do this.”

They crack the whip forwards in a blaze of fire and the thunderbird screams in agony but still withholds the rain; Newt closes his eyes and brings up his wand and when he opens them again the men are dead and the thunderbird wraps a wing around him to pull him close and keep him there. Newt runs his fingers over the new scars on his side and doesn’t question anymore how fast they heal.

(it takes months for the nundu to make him immune to her poison, months of patience as he twists and sweats and dies each night in fire, and the marmite chides her for being too rough but it’s worth it each morning when he wakes up that little bit stronger and that little bit closer to being hers)

“I won’t stay,” Newt warns them in New York. He knows better now than to believe he drives people away, knows better now than to think he has a choice. “You can’t make me stay.”

“Then let us come with you,” they say.

The swooping evil stirs restlessly under his sleeve; it’s clamped around his wrist like a manacle and it won’t take kindly to well-meaning aurors who try to set him free.

“No,” Newt says, to his creatures, to his friends, to something that could have been so much more than friendship - “No, I’m sorry, I can’t,” he says, and apparates out of New York and doesn’t look back. (it feels like abandonment and guilt)

In his case, his creatures resettle from their watchful wariness. Newt is tracked by one of Grindelwald’s followers somewhere just North of Philadephia and the graphorns grumble but take their turn in reviving him again when he dies; the erumpet is far more gleeful when she deals with the follower that killed him.

It’s the fwooper though that shifts restlessly on its branch and thinks again of the way Newt keeps dreaming of New York, of the people and the could have beens he left behind. She adds a few more notes to the song she’s composing and trills impatiently for Mummy to come back into the case, and do you see, now, do you understand?

Newt lives for his creatures. Just for his creatures. He’s Mummy first and Newt when they let him and one day, he thinks, Mummy is all he’ll be.

Do you see?

#newt scamander #up to you if you read this as #gramander #newtina #or any pairing really #or completely gen as well that works #after all #newt never knows what potential relationships he left behind in new york #so why should we?#my writing

204 notes · View notes

feywildatheart · 5 years

Text

Nenîth,

Well, here I am again, in a situation where I haven't the faintest idea how long it'll be before you're able to read this letter. Fancy IICD that'll keep signal even in the outer planes are great, but it turns out they don't work so well in demi-planes that no one even knew existed, much less were inhabited.

I hope you'll get this soon. I hope you don't worry too much about me, until you do.

I really hope that there aren't any time dilation effects when we come out of this plane. I don't think there will be -- it doesn't sound like there was, like Elyn is particularly older or younger than the people here expect her to be -- but, well. You know.

I'm getting ahead of myself, though. The new version of Archmage Zebari's spell worked, as I imagine you'll have guessed by now, considering all the talk about demi-planes and such -- though the first time, it only sort of worked, and took us to the wreckage of the Wrath of Procyon, in the ocean on Sestrilles, and we all ended up having an unexpected dinner with Elyn's family before we returned to Nellaser's Landing and Elyn and Zebari tried again.

This time it worked, and we found ourselves standing in the middle of a street full of gnomes, being gaped at by those who'd noticed our arrival -- I'm not sure whether it was because of our sudden appearance, or because of Zebari and Cloudleaper being so much taller than anyone else around, though given the reactions that they've gotten since, I suspect it was in large part the latter.

Elyn spoke with someone near us, who directed us to the city guard, who turned an alarming shade of white when Elyn introduced herself as Elyn of Procyon, and then-- Well. It's been a bit of a whirl, since then.

The Blaze of Shadai was a gnomish generation ship, setting out to find a new home, that passed through a godsfall into this demi-plane without realizing it, and settled on a planet there they've named Kirim, and only much later realized that they were on a different plane at all. They built the Wrath of Procyon as an exploratory ship, to try to find a way back to the Prime Material Plane, and have had no word of it since not long after Elyn was born, until now.

Poor Elyn seems very overwhelmed, and I only know of it what she's told us, since everyone here defaults to speaking Gnomish, for obvious reasons. But she met her grandmother yesterday, who she's named after, and today had lunch with her grandmother and an aunt, and-- well, I shoved my foot in my mouth last night, because I said something how we were having lunch with her family today, and she got this horrible, guilty look on her face and very gingerly said that she thought she'd want to go by herself, and I about swallowed my tongue.

I think she thought she'd insulted me, or hurt my feelings, by not wanting me there, but it wasn't that. I told her that of course that was fine, and that if she found herself needing a rescue or a friend or anything that she had only to let me know and I'd be there, and she said she'd Send to me if she did, and then I looked at the map of the city that I had, to make sure that I knew where to go if I needed to, and realized it was maybe as much as an hour's walk away, and the bottom about fell out of my stomach at how far away I'd be, if she needed me.

I said as much, and Elyn asked me exactly what sort of a rescue I thought she was going to need, like she thought maybe I was afraid she'd be attacked or something. Honestly, I'd worry less for her, if that's what I was worried about. I know she can hold her own in a fight.

Do you remember the first time you took me to Cadiz Beta? I was so excited to see somewhere new, and then we stepped through the jump ring and the noise of it about knocked me off my feet, and I think I might have turned around and stepped right back through if you hadn't each been holding my hand. And once we got to where we were staying it was better, it wasn't a whole city full of people bustling about and being noisy, but it was worse, too, because it was full of strangers who smiled at me and talked to me like they knew me. And you both smiled back at them, and spoke to them the same way, and I was surrounded by more people than ever before in my life, and I'd never felt so alone.

Did I ever tell you about that first day, when you both went into the city to give your documents to the council, and I was alone in the house? Aunt Vani came over, and brought Lidda with her, thinking I'd like someone my own age to play with, and almost the first thing Lidda said to me, after the introductions, was that she was so glad to finally meet me and she just knew we were going to be fast friends, and all at once I felt like I was suffocating.

I remember you climbing up after me, Cylla, into that big tree in the backyard, once you got back to the house. I don't remember if I ever managed to tell you why I'd hid there in the first place, in between clutching at you and weeping on your shoulder. I got the impression, afterwards, that you two thought it was because I was missing all the greenery of the Feywild, but it wasn't that. It wasn't only that.

It's not the same, of course. I know it isn't. Elyn’s wanted this her whole life, has been searching so hard for just this. But even so. I wanted to go to Cadiz Beta and meet my family, too, and was unprepared for how overwhelming the reality of it was going to be. I was up in that tree for hours before you and Darna got home and you came up after me, and the thought of Elyn finding herself similarly overwhelmed and needing a familiar face and me being an hour away from her was so horrifying to me. I didn't do a very good job of saying so, though, and so I don't think Elyn understood why, when she tried to reassure me by saying that if she needed to escape she could just Dimension Door away and hide somewhere, it was the opposite of comforting.

Eventually, she pointed out that the city hall was more or less halfway between where we were staying and her grandmother’s house, and so maybe I could ask Zebari if I could be any assistance to them there, and then I'd at least be closer, if Elyn needed me. It was better than nothing, so I went to ask Zebari, or to offer. Cloudleaper went with me to offer her services as well, and they seemed glad for the offer, and said that Cloudleaper’s scientific expertise could be helpful, as well as my expertise with interplanar travel.

I don't know how I ever gave them the impression that I have anything like expertise in interplanar travel. Just because I grew up in the Feywild, and got sent to a pocket dimension once. When I said as much today, they said I had more experience than anyone else in the plane in finding myself thrown into l unfamiliar and disorienting places, and in adapting to it, and I suppose that's fair enough, but—

The whole plane, nenîth. How did leaving home to keep you and Squirt safe turn into having more experience than anyone on the entire plane? At anything? Even if it is just a demi-plane.

I don't know what good being the plane’s expert at being disoriented but pushing through it is going to do, though. The best advice I had for Devon when he felt overwhelmed on Nosirion-1 was to pretend like he didn't speak the language. That's not very good advice to start with, I really only meant it to make him laugh. And it won't even work for these people, as Elyn seems perfectly capable of understanding their Gnomish, so anyone else on the Prime Material Plane who knows the language would, too. Surely there must be people somewhere who have handled being thrown into unfamiliar places with more grace than I have. But if I'm the best the people of this plane have available to them... I suppose I can at least try to help them avoid repeating my mistakes.

Advice #1: Don't hide up a tree until your moms come and find you, at least not if you don't want the person you're hiding from to decide you hate them for no good reason and be weird with you for the rest of your visit.

I wish I could ask your advice, but unless Cernunnos takes interest in our connection again, I don't expect I will until we're back on our plane again. I wish I knew when that would be. It didn't occur to me until we were here to ask Elyn if she planned on staying. She says she doesn't, but I'm not sure how long she'll want to be here before we head back. It's not as though she's going to spend her entire life searching for these people, and then have a nice lunch with them and turn around and go home.

I'll keep writing to you, in the meantime. Sorry in advance for the deluge you're going to get, once my IICD has signal again.

All my love,

maliah

#in character #in character: letters #episode 81 #episode 82

1 note · View note

theflashdriver · 5 years

Text

Flowers

Decided Since I have a backlog of these I’d post some more gradually! No point in having half my hoard here, I might as well bring the whole thing! I really enjoy using nature to bring these two together, it’s probably because they’re from a place so devoid of it? Though this is an older one I hope you enjoy!

Silver was late; this was a first and Blaze couldn't help feeling concerned. She was stood before the fountain at the heart of the main island's town in the early afternoon; sun hanging high in a nearly cloudless sky, cobbled street beneath. The Princess could feel eyes upon her, her being outside the castle usually meant some kind of event; for better or worse. Oftentimes it meant some kind of invasion so understandably citizens were on edge. There were no festivities planned for today, likely further raising the townsfolk's suspicions, she'd wanted to treat her friend to lunch from a new bakery that had opened on the east side of town. She thought he'd probably enjoy sweet foods, having had so few in his destroyed future, and he'd never been late to a meeting before. She gripped her arm, tapping her foot; she'd give him just five more minutes before beginning to search. He could have gone anywhere with that power of his, any of the islands were within his reach… he might have overexerted, ran out of energy and fallen asleep on one. That was the best-case scenario at least; he could have gotten himself into some kind of trou-

"Blaze! Blaze!" She recognised his voice immediately, worry lingering in her heart she quickly turned to him but the sight wasn't nearly as cruel as she expected. He was untouched, unharmed, floating from the sky toward her with one hand waving and the other was held behind him. He landed before her, a sheepish smile on his face, "I'm sorry I'm late, I got a little distracted. I was in the forest."

He was uninjured, he'd delayed himself on accident; she was relieved yet at the same time felt a small twinge of disappointment. To break their perfect record over such a small thing, it wasn't a huge deal but she still felt some kind of disapproval. Her stance straightened, she folded her arms, "Well I'm glad you enjoyed yourself but try to keep better time. If you'd been any longer I would have set out searching for you, we might have missed this entirely." She couldn't help noticing that arm, still held behind him while the other was at his side. She tried not to stare, kept her eyes flickering between him and their surroundings.

"Oh, that makes sense. I'm really sorry, but I got you these; they just looked so pretty I couldn't just leave them there." And from behind his back Silver produced a dozen flowers bundled together, purple lilies with deep orange anther, and held them out to her. Immediately Blaze felt more eyes upon both of them, instantly Blaze felt her heat rise and went to scan Silver's face; only to see a kind smile. There wasn't a hint of embarrassment; there wasn't a touch of shyness to his face or even anticipation, no redness and no goofy expression. He looked exactly the same as he had upon arriving, now holding out a bouquet as though it were natural. She'd never known him to be this hard to read, the hedgehog wore his heart on his cuff and subtlety wasn't in his repertoire, yet he stood calm and regular having brought her a bouquet? This bordered on the unbelievable, he wasn't exactly being smooth but it showed a confidence and inclinations she'd never known from him.

She gently took the flowers, feeling the eyes of surrounding citizens weigh on her more and more with each passing second. She couldn't look him in the eyes, not with that unreadable expression on his face; she looked down to the flowers but only felt herself grow hotter and hotter. "Th-Thank you Silver, they're… they're wonderful, I had no idea you felt so strongly about this meeting. I suppose we are… I suppose this is kind of like a…" She was feeling a heat she had never felt before, overflowing with emotions; the weight of those watching crushed her but there was an additional weight in the centre of her chest, growing heavier with each passing second as she looked to the flowers. The word date hung on her tongue yet she was at a complete loss for words.

"Eh? Blaze, are you okay? You're quite red, have you got a fever or something? Is everything alright?" Her eyes snapped to him, his great golden orbs held a look of concern yet his face still wore no embarrassment? Neither fear nor even doubt in his actions, no matter how she looked at him she saw only concern for her wellbeing. He was leaning in now with a hand extended, previously this wouldn't have shocked her but with all these feelings bubbling she couldn't help but flinch slightly; "It's alright if you need to go rest, your health is more important than-

"No no! We'll go, we'll go!" She grabbed his hand with her free one, beginning to half march and half drag him toward the bakery; shoes clacking loudly on the cobbled pavement. She tried to avoid the gaze of others as she passed, almost attempting to hide her face behind the flowers. She was trying to keep her hands cool most of all, with emotions flaring like this she risked heating up too much and burning him, the flowers or both. This meant she could feel her face steaming so hot as to prompt recoil on touch. She dared to glance back to him over her shoulder and caught his eyes; she could see nothing but the usual smile and joyous light albeit with a twinge of confusion. Likely because she was leading the way quite so briskly, she willed herself to slow walking side by side with him, back to focusing on the flowers.

As she did so, still holding his hand quite tightly (her thumb overlapped his but their fingers weren't intertwined), he began to talk again. "Yeah I thought they were nice, I'm glad you like them so much. There weren't too many of them so I wanted to make sure you could see them, they're purple like you."

It was a simple statement that she usually wouldn't blink twice at but now it felt emotionally charged, like he was looking for things she'd enjoy in his everyday life. "Y-You're so naïve, don't pull up flowers for me again, it's not good for them. We'll just go see them together next time." He'd called the flowers pretty before and now he'd compared them to her fur, it was a roundabout way of calling her pretty but it stuck in Blaze's mind like a tack in her foot.

"Oh, alright sure! I've seen a bunch of places I'm sure you'd like… then again, this is your dimension… you've probably seen them all already right?" At the twinge of disappointment in his realisation her head whipped straight to him.

"No I'm sure I'd love it regardless, don't worry about whether or not I've seen anything it'll be a new experience seeing it with you." She almost stumbled over the word love but forced herself to say it, she was feeling a lot of brand new complex emotions quite suddenly. All of their prior actions were being recontextualized in her mind, from the days they'd slept together in crisis city to the smallest of hugs and hand holds all the way to her own sacrifice. Each of these actions now appeared more intimate in Blaze's eyes, a romantic context she hadn't even considered now plainly apparent.

"Oh alright well I found this cool mountain lake if you want to visit there tomorrow." Blaze felt her tail and ears shoot straight; she shot him a glance and was again met with that unreadable, regular, smile. She looked back to the flowers. This event that she was now certain he viewed as a date, and she couldn't help but do so too, wasn't even over yet he was already asking her on another? For the first time in her life she was feeling slow, Silver had completely slipped the rug from beneath her and showing an interest she had never seen before. Suddenly she felt him stop, interrupting her train of thought, his right hand reached out and touched her forehead, recoiling a little at the heat before pressing into it; "You're burning up quite a lot Blaze, are you certain you're alright? I know when you get sick the fever can be rather intense."

They were two buildings away from the bakery, Blaze let herself stop and turned to him; keeping hold of his right hand. "I'm fine Silver, I just… I didn't think you cared so much about today and I wasn't expecting the flowers. I'm fine I just wasn't prepared for all of this, I need to sort out some feelings."

"Well of course, every day with you is important to me Blaze and I thought you might like the flowers but I didn't think you'd care this much. I'm glad I picked them! If you say you're okay then let's keep going." He was still so naïve, despite turning her into this boiling mess he was still the same Silver. She felt far too embarrassed to go into this bakery and order, she wasn't sure she'd be able to get the works out; let alone flowers in hand. They finished the journey, arriving outside the bakery, and Blaze quickly spotted a nearby bench.

She released their handhold, rummaging through her pockets and producing her purse. "Just get me something for lunch, a pastry with meat or something and tea if they sell it; just milk. Get whatever you want." She didn't have the energy to give intricate instructions right now, let alone with how new Silver was to purchasing… hopefully nothing would go wrong. She lowered herself onto the bench, setting the flowers down next to her; she took a deep breath and ran a hand down her face. This was fine, she could deal with this, they'd have lunch, go their separate ways and she could figure this all out. She kept her eyes glued to the pavement, the once cold metal bench already warmed beneath her. This had come completely out of the blue, they'd been going on outings like this ever since he'd arrived in her dimension… had they all been dates? What was happening? She could feel her body slowly cooling; she was almost over this, they could have a more serious conversation about this. It was quite sudden but, by what she was feeling in her chest and thinking to their past, this love was not unrequited. She picked the flowers back up, examining them. They were already beginning to wilt a little, she'd have to get them into water quite soon if she wanted them to last through tomorrow. As she picked up the flowers, however, attempting to focus, she could feel eyes shift to her once again. She was a monarch here; her actions well known, word of her and the flowers would spread let alone Silver. She could feel her temperature begin to rise again as Silver exited the bakery, foodstuffs hovering around him and purse in hand.

She set the flowers across her legs as he returned her purse, floating her a cup as well as a paper bag. "I'm not sure if it was expensive or not but they had tea and that's a pasty I think? It has chicken in it, that's for certain." She could certainly smell it, some pepper and cheese also.

"I'm sure it will be good Silver, thank you." She would sip the tea without worrying about the temperature, gently patting the bench next to her. He lowered himself, a similar bag and paper cup floating into his hands. Blaze sat the drink beneath her, she could feel the heat spreading once again but knew she would have to act now and make things clear. He opened his bag, producing what looked and smelt to be an apple muffin of sorts… it wasn't good nutrition but as she had expected, he seemed to enjoy sweet foods. She gently looped her right arm around him… not quite his waist but lower than his shoulders, "So, have you been feeling this way for a while? I didn't know you were… I didn't think you…"

He'd taken a bite and went to talk but seemingly remembering one of the things she'd taught him he swallowed first. "Feel what way Blaze?" Almost instinctively he copied her movement, wrapping an arm around her. The heat surged, she could smell the flowers beginning to cook in her lap, there hadn't been a moment of hesitation from him; not a blink.

She took a deep breath, "…Well, you brought me flowers and I didn't realise that you were… such a romantic sort. Old fashioned even."

At that Silver's face went from the dopey happiness of eating the apple muffin, the taste perhaps a little too much for him, to purest scarlet; ears pointing high into the air. "W-W-What? Romantic? I... the flowers?"

Blaze blinked twice, suddenly the heat within her was vanishing and a cold taking its place. "Yes, the flowers. The kind people bring on dates and give to their loved ones… it's a romantic thing."

Silver's eyes widened, she could feel him trembling against her; "I…I didn't know that flowers. Meant that, I just thought they were pretty and purple like you and-

"I see." She brought her hand back, looking down at the pasty. The heat had vanished and with it so had the hunger she had been feeling. Her breath slowed, she hadn't considered that this might be an option. Silver was from the future, a destroyed future of another world no less. It was always possible that he had no idea what this gesture meant, what any of his gestures might have meant. Now she was left with their history contextualised by romantic inclinations unreturned, a cold and empty feeling in her chest to replace the bubbling warmth she had been feeling. The flowers on her legs were no longer burning but a small smoke wisp billowed up from them.

And yet his hand was still lingering on her side, she turned to him with her brows furrowed only to find his eyes were closed; his redness remained across his face. "I-I guess I-I should… I want to?" He squeaked, still shaking quite a lot. "I-I didn't mean anything by the flowers but that d-doesn't mean I don't… uhm…" He was positively squirming now, feet crossing and uncrossing constantly. "I guess I… I think I would… I'm…"

She felt the warmth spread in her chest again, he was acting far more like she'd expected when he'd first gifted the flowers. He hadn't said anything of significance and yet there was already a blush on his face, he was struggling to meet her eyes and with every second word there was a shift based in a deeply set uncertainty. His left hand was on his knee with the right still coiled around her, it seemed to be taking the sum total of his will to maintain this loose grasp. Blaze could read him completely. She took a deep breath and returned her arm around him; this time around his waist. "If you're not ready to have this talk that's fine, we've… we've opened the door on this. We don't have to go through it yet if you're not prepared." She was taking the lead; yes this was far closer how she'd imagined things might go on those quiet nights. "After today a lot of new thoughts have been brought to the forefront of my mind, I think I would like to but there's no reason to rush this."

Silver seemed to have relaxed a little bit at that, taking a few breaths and a second to think; "I… I need to do some research, have I done things like this before? Like the flowers before? I-I mean if we were going to be like… together together, I-I'd have to do more right?"

"Well." Blaze nodded to the hand around her side. "Our relationship has always been closer than is typical. I'm not certain how much things would really change." She was still far from regular, redness to her cheeks and a heat still present, but she had calmed down enough to explain these things to him. "Bringing me flowers, while in some ways a step up, is generally a step down from the closeness we shared in that city. It's just more… blatant than past actions, I believe would be how to phrase it."

"R-Right… okay. Alright, I think I can do this." She felt the grip around her side tighten a little, there was less shaking but he was thoroughly reddened. "I-I'll get some books, I'll figure out what I should be doing a-and-

"You're doing fine Silver, if you want to research I won't stop you but this was… this was pretty good. You were romantic and sweet without even intending to be." Blaze took a sip of her tea; while she was enjoying this they couldn't let the food go cold. Soon she'd be back to her station, Gardon might scold her for being late as it was. She took a bite of the pasty, sipped some tea but it was clearly still a little too hot for him but he fought through it. She knew eyes were still upon them, but now that it was clearer how he felt she could relax slightly. She tried to make idle conversation, pry through the awkwardness; " So, you've been enjoying your time here then, visiting natural places. I suppose it's a nice change."

Silver nodded, only a little of his muffin left already; "I-I have been enjoying it, I think it's nice to see so many different coloured things; everything's so vibrant." A light had returned to his eyes, cutting through the embarrassment; "I think I love it here, there are so many happy people and of course you're here and we're back together and things are just… things are nice now."

"I'm glad," She smiled, having finished her meal. "We'll part ways, for now, I'm sure Gardon's worried, but I should have more time tomorrow. We could prepare and go to that lake if you wanted?"

"O-Of course! Yeah, there's tons of stuff up there I want you to see and you might know some other paths and… y-yeah sure!" His hand gently left her side as he finished the muffin, drink still in hand, hers retracted from his waist as she disposed of the remains in a nearby bin.

She nodded to him; "Well, same time and place tomor-

His hand had grasped hers, there was redness clear to his face but he was looking at the pavement. Fingers were interlocked; his thumb had snuck beneath hers. The light of his symbol pulsing was obvious, even in the daylight. "W-We didn't do much, so can I walk you back to the-

"Yes, yes of course!" The heat was back in full force, slightly melted flowers in her right hand and Silver holding her left. She couldn't help releasing an initial warmth through her palms, cringing slightly, but he fought through it as her hand quickly cool. They'd slowly make their way back to the castle; at least she wasn't alone in her embarrassment this time.

#silvaze #Blaze the Cat #Silver the Hedgehog #silverxblaze #sonic #sonic the hedgehog #fanfic #silver #blaze

10 notes · View notes