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olliethescribe · 10 months

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Oh look, it’s propaganda @tmntausummit ! The second I saw that it was gonna be a fashion show, I had to send my most fashionable lads. ***

“You’ve got the goods!”

The boombox in front of them stood proud, a sleek confidence packaged into each circuit running through it, likened to veins pumping the life-saving funk of eighties groove into its stereo heart. A Prince-inspired beat blared into the open air, taking any listeners (un)lucky enough to be caught in its radius on a one way trip to Project Runway. Well, not quite, but a fashion montage nonetheless.

Speaking of said listeners, well…

Five minutes earlier

“Are you absolutely sure the failsafe is in place, Donatello?” The magician tsked as he looked the finished piece over.

It didn’t take much for the purple turtle to convince him that this was a good idea, something that should’ve been a sign that this wasn’t exactly the most sound thing he could agree to. Still, he gave in, primed and ready with song lyrics and melodies. Wasn’t like he’d fall victim to his own hypnosis without a proper escape plan. Wearing earplugs worked well when handling the Foot Clan, but for willingly listening to an illusion trap? Well, a brief yet sharp pinch or slap could fix that. And given how Donnie described the way things worked, it almost completely dissuaded his fears. Almost.

“Oh, Ron, doubting me this far into the project? You wound me!” Donnie mimed a fainting motion, hand bent over his head with his elbow pointed to the heavens, leaning back before righting himself just as quickly. “But, once again, we’ll be fine. That’s a Genius Built guarantee (patent pending). Now, let us commence!”

His finger hovered over the power button as he looked to his pseudo-uncle for approval. Ron smiled at him, nodding with just a touch more confidence.

“For science! And fashion!”

Present

“You’ve got the goods that can make me smile!”

The curtains blew open as Donnie stepped through, a full ombré suit adorning his person, his blazer starting white at the top before fading into a layer of yellow then one of orange then red. Massive sequins and rhinestones in jewel tones bedazzled the edges, shining in the bright light of the dressing room.

He did a turn around as Ron clapped and cheered, taking his seat as his brother’s mentor got up and skipped with joy into the dressing room, the magician muttering excitedly about clothing for hippo men only existing in dream dimensions.

Dee nearly pulled his phone out while he waited before remembering himself and where he was. So he leaned back, eyes up to the ceiling as the song that kept them there continued to play on loop, until the ceiling was suddenly gone. As were the walls when he looked around, the couch he sat upon and the dressing room Ron occupied suddenly in a much larger building.

“Where in the name of Marie Curie are we?”

Donnie’s question was interrupted as Ron popped out of the dressing room, posing dramatically as the curtains swooshed back to reveal him in his brand new outfit.

A sky blue smoking jacket with gold swirls over a lilac button-down shirt and dark purple bowtie, paired with an amethyst and rhodochrosite paisley print cape clipped to his shoulders with tiny hippo-shaped epaulettes with pearl string tassels swinging for tails. Grey silk slacks held up with an hand-embroidered black leather belt adorned his lower half, a brass pocket watch dangling from the free space between belt loops. His shiny brown leather boots clicked with each step and heel turn against the tile floor, small sterling silver rabbits placed lovingly beside the playing card-shaped buckles that kept them closed.

The purple turtle ahead of him was too busy looking around to pay him much mind.

“What are yo-” Ron glanced up and to the side, taking a moment to register the scenery change. “Oh, Wellington Sunday… this wasn’t in the spell…”

“Uh, no duh this wasn’t in the ‘spell’!” Donnie shot a cursory glance Ron’s way, eyes focusing on movement behind the hippo magician as the dressing room itself disappeared.

Figures in the distance steadily approached, accompanied by the echo of hard acrylic on marble. Eerily familiar features were hidden under lavish accessories. They got ever closer, closing in.

“That’s it! I’m activating the failsafe!” Dee slammed a button on his bracer, waiting for the pinch that would get them out of this if things went south. But no pinch came.

“I’d hazard a guess and say it hasn’t worked.” The fear edging Ron’s voice only lended to the sincerity of his question, silently cursing the fact that his razor rings had become flower crowns in this strange state of not quite sleep.

“No, not even close.”

They traded glances as a new thought came to mind.

“Donnie, we can make another boombox, yeah?” Ron was hesitant as he spoke, starting to understand the emotional investment Donnie put into each piece of his tech.

The purple turtle swallowed uneasily, watching as more figures quickly appeared. There was only one option. He sighed.

“Affirmative. Do what you must.”

A sudden rush of footsteps neared in further and further to them, forcing the two back to back as Ron considered how to go about things from there. It wouldn’t take much to rush the crowd-

“Hi! Welcome to our fashion show! You’re just in time!”

The magician blinked at the crowd of, oh, turtles, in front of him. He nudged Donnie, hoping the terrapin teen had just heard what he had.

“Uhh, hello? How did we get here?” Ron bent down to their level, nearly forgetting he was well over seven feet tall in his hippo form.

The tiny representative in front of him smiled at him, a name badge with the name ‘Leo’ scrawled on it tacked to their shirt.

“Don’t worry about it. Now, c’mon, it’s your turn on the catwalk!” This Leo motioned for the two of them to follow as the rest of crowd began to walk off, swishing and swaying as they went about their business.

“Donnie what do you think of-”

But Donnie had skipped ahead, taking notes and samples of his surroundings with scientific curiosity, greeting other Donnies on his way to the catwalk.

Yeah, they were gonna be there for a while. Wherever ‘there’ happened to be.

#tmntausummit 2.0 #tmntaucompetition #no crime only brooches #no crime only brooches au #vote only brooches!!#hypnopotamus #hypno potamus #donatello #rise donnie #propaganda #hippoworm #rottmnt #written propaganda #vote #it’s for science

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montydrawsstuff · 1 year

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espave propaganda for the masses:

- detective and a thief. something something interesting dynamic

- they’re both the “voice of reason” for their team (we personally know they are silly cringefails but they can look the part… usually)

- wave really likes to talk but no one listens to her, espio really likes to learn and absorb info like a sponge so it’s an infinite autism loop

- espio is obsessed with ancient cultures (hence why he was on angel island in knuckles chaotix, it’s even noted he envies knuckles for this) and wave is babylonian aka genie-aliens. lots to unpack!

- wave has been shown to be more morally driven than her teammates, just as espio is a lot more morally ambiguous than his team (something about morally grey diversions)

- espio is awful with tech, wave excels with it (hilarity ensues)

- espio’s leaf swirl can self-sustain extreme gear, which runs on air tanks. do with this what you will

- the chaotix and rogues interacting in general would be hilarious so it’s great for a general crossover too

- they’re both gay in the wrong direction but like,,, bisexually? espio seems gay to people and wave seems like a lesbian but that’s what makes them so compatible and out of left field (i thought you were gay, why are you with this sad pathetic man/woman)

- they’re purple :)

ahhh i see where you're coming from haha

i wouldn't personally ship them but I can see why someone would now

call me boring, but I love a cosy couple. Which is why sonjet is top tier to me lol

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balillee · 3 years

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weird bits of ranboo lore that exist:

- s i l k t o u c h h a n d s

- he was subconsciously able to play mellohi in his head on a loop in such a complex way that it grew louder the closer he got to the panic room. he was once able to sync this up with mellohi being in the jukebox in the panic room, either that or the song was so loud that it could be heard all over the SMP and just,,,,, nobody has talked about it.

- ranboo is taller than two blocks.

- ranboo feels nothing when animals die !

- he's canonically bilingual and can speak to both people and endermen.

- he names almost all of his pets and his weapons after himself.

- ranboo's favourite past time seems to be vandalism, considering he and tommy robbed and burnt down george's house, and now ranboo spends his day vandalising eggpire propaganda.

- i'm pretty sure he can just summon book and quills. like they just seem to appear out of nowhere. i don't get it.

- whether or not he blew up the community house, who knows. it was either dream, or dream by proxy, though - so who gives a shit?

- i think he's scared of jack manifold, which, is probably the least surprising bit of trivia here.

- he might also be afraid of tubbo. to be honest, i think he just finds snowchester as a whole scary because tubbo's a mad scientist who seems really enthusiastic about nuclear warheads that he doesn't want to use, surprisingly enough. tubbo's still a diehard ranboo apologist, however, although he is a lil sus.

- if ranboo joins the syndicate, i'll riot IT WOULD BE SO INFURIATINGLY OUT OF CHARACTER AAAAAA-

- he wants to see dream in prison, probably to just yell at him, but who knows whether or not the two have actually talked.

- does ranboo even know if it was him or dream who blew up the community house? either that or him rebuilding it is just charity work.

- he's canonically fuckin bald. like i don't like to think about it mainly just because i'm so used to all the fanart of black and white hair ranboo, but my god is it just kind of cursed.

- he spent half an hour trying to catch bathew only for him to just kind of,,,,, leave him next to purpled's house.

and yet ranboo's the sensible one on the server? this man is pure chaos, and he's like, what, 16-17? i'm afraid

#dream smp #dsmp #dream smp meme #dsmp meme #dream smp lore #dream smp canon #dsmp lore #dsmp canon #ranboo #ranboo dsmp #ranboo dream smp #dream smp ranboo #dsmp ranboo #ranboo my beloved

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icxrusat · 2 years

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Stuck In A Loop For Eternity

Pix is lost in the desert. fWhip is lost in his head.

a study of fWhip, Pix, and the absence of identity.

Note: Welcome to my phantom assassin fWhip propaganda! Title from Ludens by Bring Me The Horizon, and CWs for nightmares/unreality. Timelines are a little messy but I like to think this takes place around the start of Moonstruck King, and before Pix comes back from exile.

fWhip wakes up and knows he’s dreaming. He knows because Pix is sat in front of him, smiling softly, and his face is clean of blood, purple or red. The world around them is fuzzy but fWhip knows they’re sat on the divan Pix has tucked in the corner of his house, and he shifts his foot just to hear the familiar scratch of the sandstone floor.

He’s been searching the desert for weeks and not seen a trace of copper, and the sight of dream-Pix’s face is doing something uncomfortable to his stomach.

In the dream, Pix is still, reading from a novel fWhip thinks came from his own library, and he’s reminded of the years they spent like this, summers in the Grimlands and winters in Pixandria, migrating between libraries and market stalls as the birds did. The light filtering in is a beautiful orange-pink and all fWhip wants to do is tug the book out of dream-Pix’s hands and pull him outside to watch the desert sunset.

He twists his foot again. Pix is ordinary meticulous about keeping loose sand out, but fWhip finds himself drawing patterns in the piles collecting beside the divan cushions. There’s something wrong about that, but the whole thing is vague and thoughts slip from his head like blue ice. He pushes the sand further. The solid sandstone floor falls apart further beneath his boots, and before he can react, he’s scratched it into sand and he’s falling. He falls into his tower lab and the cobbled floor is still covered with his blood, soaking wet even though he hasn’t been in here in days, too busy getting sand in his throat and his eyes. His alliance portrait of Sausage is a portrait of the Phantom, the desert of Pixandria rendered in strokes of oil around him, and the brushstrokes of the dunes are moving under a silent, intangible wind. fWhip falls again, but this time upwards, and he’s staring into the portrait’s eyes. The Phantom looks back at him. It lifts its hand as he does, but its hand is dripping with ice water and his own glove is as dry as his mouth when he recognises the desperate look on the Phantom’s face.

He only meant to cover his face for Pix’s sake, but now Pixandria expects things of him. And even though he knows he’s dreaming, he’s overwhelmed with the feeling of helplessness and he starts sobbing.

He’s crying for the Pixandrians he hasn’t been able to help. He’s crying for his own people he’s left behind.

He’s crying for Pix, who is still lost and alone in the desert and he’s crying for every minute that passes when his chances of finding him dwindle ever further. He falls to his knees and he’s back beside Pix on the divan, his tears wetting the sandstone floor. His head falls into Pix’s lap and Pix puts a hand in his hair and now he’s bawling because he misses him so fucking much and he’s so far away and no one knows if he’s even alive and the desert is too fucking big and-

He wakes up for real this time. His pillow is damp.

The sky is dark.

Lightning flashes. Thunder rumbles, seconds later than normal.

The storm is upon him but he can’t feel the rain. He sees it splash against the sand. It forms puddles instead of draining away. He looks away, afraid of what the reflection will show him.

He’s not looking, and then the puddle is in front of him. Lightning flashes. Thunder. The dragon with tears of blood blinks back at him from the water’s surface. It looks pointedly over his shoulder at the clouds. He turns to see. Lightning flashes. 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. Thunder rumbles. The storm isn’t six miles away. It can’t be. It’s above him. His hands are clawed. He’s crying wet, hot blood. It doesn’t hurt but there is a great ache in his chest, like a sword has knocked the breath from him. He is wearing a necklace of arrows, heads buried in his neck. Lighting flashes. Thunder rumbles, seconds too late. He jumps and is unsurprised by the wings on his back that lift him into the solid clouds. He pants against the arrows in his throat. It is the worst kind of pain and he cries out, calling for someone. There’s no answer.

It’s fWhip he’s calling, he realises. fWhip doesn’t answer. He cries harder. Louder. He thinks the blood has matted his hair but he can’t check. There’s sand burning in his throat and his lungs are raw. In front of him, the Vigil rises up, like an oasis. He gasps. Relief. Safety. But it’s obsidian, not familiar, pale sandstone, and he’s falling at its base, falling to all four of his knees. His crown, the one he thought he dropped in the desert days ago, falls from his head. The copper burns like corruption. He jerks back from it. The ache in his chest doubles. He feels like he’s on fire. His candles have all gone out. fWhip still hasn’t heard him, and he’s going to bleed out before anyone finds him. The sand is red and the world is empty. He screams louder, hoarser. The thunder drowns him out and the rain washes his life away.

He wakes up slowly. His lantern has gone out and the cave is dark, and the only sound as he brushes loose sand from his hair is his laboured breathing and the soft breeze brushing over the dunes gathered on the sandstone above his head.

#empires smp #fwhip #pixlriffs #arly writes #emprs

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embryos-first-heartbeats · 3 years

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so... I tried salvia

Yup, I finally did it. I smoked something for the first time. After a lifetime of not being a smoker, I inhaled that shit. It wasn’t easy, I coughed, a lot. I still don’t like smoke. But what I do like is salvia. Damn. People aren’t fucking around when they say that salvia is strong... and weird as hell.

My first experience with salvia was actually chewing it, the taste sucked hardcore and I really didn’t find the effects to be strong enough (granted, I only used a small amount to test how my mind and body would react to the new substance), it went well enough but I wanted to move to the next level: smoking.

It was a few days to a week later that I was finally able to try smoking it, and I had to look up videos on how to even use a bong. I had this tiny cheap thing that I bought off of Amazon because I wasn’t even sure what I was looking for in a bong. I started by putting some plain leaf in the bowl and smoked it, it was truly awful from a physical perspective. Mentally, I definitely felt... different. I tried a few more bowls and closed my eyes and in my head I got some interesting faint 3D tunnels formed out of static. They were spinning. But I also got an image of some evil face grinning maniacally (tbh it looked kind of like the jerma sus meme but it wasn’t super funny because I’ve gotten an evil grinning figure before, off morning glory seeds)

I wanted to smoke more but there was another person in the house, she was going to leave for a few hours soon though so I waited until after she left to continue my experiment. I put on a long YouTube compilation of music from one of my favorite artists. I smoked a little bit more plain leaf but I quickly decided I wanted something more intense. I have a gram of both 10x and 20x, so I got the 10x out and put a pinch of it it into the bowl, lit it, and decided to put my mind into the hands of this new substance. I wasn’t expecting much... but then it hit me. Yeah, it hit me and I was pretty amazed by how quickly I went from mostly sober, to diving into deep hallucinogenic water. It was like DXM and nitrous all at the same time but way stronger than either one.

I kept pulling my hood over my eyes to block the light out, and I took my glasses off, which felt amazing and natural, like scratching an itch and that it was exactly what I needed to do at that moment. I pulled my hood over my entire face but I kept thinking I didn’t want to somehow make it hard to breathe. My entire vision morphed into this three-lobed formation of the little bit I could actually see, repeated on continuous lines in a clover shape. I felt a little overwhelmed, like I had done something that I wasn’t really supposed to do, since I told the other person I wouldn’t try 10x by myself. But at that point I could feel myself sink back, and I felt like I was on a boat in the ocean being rocked gently by waves. I moved my hands back and forth in front of me, mimicking the feeling.

At the end there were these faint 2D panels with these cartoon ape characters looking back at me, like I was supposed to follow them. It started to fade and I opened my eyes, sat up, and the first thing that came into my mind was some nonsense about “hairy gorilla soda bottles”. After it faded a bit more, I looked at the bong just thinking “holy shit!” I felt really good but it was way more than anything I’d experienced before that point. I knew immediately that I wanted to do more.

The second time around, when I started to enter I got a faint vision of a purple cartoon hippo looking over a book that was also a farm with a sunrise, I was a part of a class but I kept disturbing the class by moving around too much. The vision changed and became a lot more vivid, there were these purple and white teddy bears made of hollow rolling tubes, and I was one of the tubes. The tubes were rolling but also moving like on a conveyor belt or something. I was going to get pulled into the “inside” of the teddy bear and I was annoyed by this because I knew it was going to be too dark to see anything in there, and I wanted my “outside” time to be longer.

After I was sucked in there was this version of a house made of those rolling tubes, it was flat, and two of my family members were in front of it, they were also made of tubes and their arms, legs, and bodies were super thin and featureless, I don’t think they had distinct faces either, and they were both reaching into the middle of the front of the house with their “hands” touching. I just wanted to go inside the house. Then I was on this pinched oval type thing, I could see the whole thing and one part looked closer than the other, where there were repetitions of the room I was in, linked to this bicycle chain structure, with gaps between them, on a black background. This was all I could see, but I was also on/in it and it was my what I felt my face was. It kept looping over and over and there was this word/sound/concept that kept repeating and it was really frustrating for some reason because I had to keep repeating this loop. I felt stuck during this part and didn't know when it was gonna stop.

The final scene was this neighborhood of cartoony 2D houses made of thick, round, rubber looking tubes. They were soft and squishy looking. There were families in the houses and grey metal doors underneath each one. I called this place Book Land because it reminded me of a children's book, where everything is gentle and pure and bright. I talked to the dad of the first house and he told his wife about how I wasn’t able to get through because I had to pee too much, but my door was open a little bit. I asked him if he could see me and he said no, he had never seen me even though he knew about me before because the door is open sometimes. There was a close-up of a cartoon purple kid, who looked like from a child’s drawing, but made of the round tubes. She was smiling and looked happy. I was able to open the door enough to get my hand through, it was all purple and blobby and made of tubes like everything else. It stretched across all the houses and I felt like I was doing some kind of educational lesson about sharing “my kind” with the people of this world.

After I came out of it I had to piss really, really bad, so I rushed to the bathroom as quickly as I could, I’m not sure if I just drank too much water while trying to smoke or what, but it was way more intense than usual for me. In the bathroom I was still pretty in it because I kept thinking about Book Land like it was a real place, and I wasn’t sure if me using the bathroom was real or just a particularly normal/realistic part of the trip.

I went back to my smoking spot to go in one last time. I knew I was reaching my limit, though, so I didn’t want to go overboard. Very shortly after smoking it, I got up to pee, I don’t even think I had to at this point, I think I was just unconsciously repeating something I’d done several times before. I kept thinking about Book Land and I also felt like I was in a weird cycle and that everyday life was just a weird cycle and getting up to pee was a part of it. I could see repeating rainbow fractals on the carpet as I walked to the bathroom and I was super happy about it and thought it was totally normal. I remember when I was in the bathroom I kept trying to talk to myself, but it was pretty much only mumbling and partial words that came out.

When I was done I sat down but got up again right after to look at the carpet, because I could see this 3D simple three-lobed snowflake like pattern repeated on the carpet wherever I looked. I kept moving around to see it at different angles and it looked totally, convincingly 3D no matter where I looked. I loved this to no end and just kept looking at the patterns for several minutes. I thought that I should put my glasses on to see the fractals better, but when I did they simply disappeared. At one point an advertisement came on since the video with the music I was listening to had ended, and I became really angry and paused it, saying “NO!” really loudly. I thought to myself that “the children in Book Land cannot be exposed to corporate propaganda like advertisements. The children in Book Land can only be exposed to pure information.”

After that, I admired the carpet patterns a bit more, then I wanted to go outside. As I went to go outside, I kept looking at the floor the whole time, searching for more patterns, and when the flooring switched from carpet to a flat, wood patterned floor the fractals disappeared. So I was a little annoyed at this and continued making my way outside. I saw one of the cats and thought she was cute, but she didn’t have any fractals on her so I wasn’t super interested in that moment. Then I saw a clover leaf and said “Yes!! There it is!! That’s it right there!!” and sat down on the step to admire this leaf, which really did resemble the three-lobed vision from the start of my adventure, and it looked like the patterns I saw on the carpet as well. I sat there looking at the leaf and looking around, thinking to myself as the salvia wore off more and more.

Over the next couple hours I sat down, thinking about my trip and how intense everything was. I felt really good and at that point I knew exactly why people said that salvia was weird as hell. I kept thinking about the visuals, the feelings, and about Book Land. I hastily wrote some notes down on my computer, which I referred to when writing this, as despite the typos and weird wording, it had the most raw translation of my experience that I could get. In all honesty, I felt pretty accomplished for trying something new and not shrimping out over smoking for the first time, or shying away from how daunting salvia can seem. I knew what I was getting into before I started and I wasn’t taken by surprise at any point.

I know I’m going to try it again at some point, but I’m definitely not going to rush my way into it and push myself too far too fast. I have a huge amount of respect for this drug and the last thing I want to do is screw myself over by getting cocky.

#salvia #divinorum #salvia divinorum #drugs #trip report

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hhuta · 3 years

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Hi I just wanted to say you're the reason I watched Mozart l'opera rock? Uh I have no idea who you are i think I probably followed you by accident or idk maybe Tumblr fucked up but for MONTHS now I have been seeing salieri on my dash I log in and it's like BOOM florent!! So out of boredom I watched it the other day and now I'm utterly obsessed it is on my mind constantly like. The songs are bangers. I want to (fondly) bully salieri. And Mozart.... Oh my god Mozart. I can't think about him without descending into utter incoherence like I've been so utterly charmed by him I don't know what to do with it I sent a picture of him to my friend like 'this is what Mozart looks like' and they were like 'nice jacket. Got gender envy now' and I realised... That it! It's the gender of it all. The ugly purple coat. The shitty hair that I am now in love with. Like I love him as a character but also I just really really wanna look like mikelangelo. anyway. Uh thank you for posting about mor so much that I got into it I am incapable of thinking about anything else now and I am looping lbqfm religiously it is 2am I am sor tired oh my god but if I don't disrupt my sleep schedule to focus on mor I will die

thats perhaps the best ask i ever goOOOOTTTTTTTT SO MANY COMPLIMENTS THERE AND ALSO RELATABLE THINGS I WILL COMMENT ON EVERY SINGLE SENTENCE.

FIRST OF ALL ,,, i need to say right away that i think i know who u are kldjals if u are the person who recently reblogged a place je passe gifset from me then. ur tags gave u away dlkasjdkls i had no choice but to connect the dots !! why did u go on anon lets be friends !!!

so if u are that person then i think u followed me bc of vixx ldajlkDLKSJ leo is friends with the guy who played salieri in south korea btw u have to know that. ill use that as propaganda to get starlights into mor.

also cannot believe u put up with me talking about mor for mONTHS and not only u didnt unfollow u then went to watch it!!!!!!! im really touched!!!!!!! seriously!!!!!!!!!

"now I have been seeing salieri on my dash I log in and it's like BOOM florent!!" dlksjkljlkLDKS DONT CALL ME OUT LIKE THAT 🚶‍♂️I KNOW THATS REALLY ALL I POST ABOUT BUT STILL 🚶‍♂️

the songs really ARE bangers and fondly bullying salieri is all i do too !!!!!!!!!!!!!! ur so in love with mozart tho ldkajslkd tHATS REALLY CUTE that was me before. the. second act begun. and my attention went to. someone else. but also "The ugly purple coat. The shitty hair that I am now in love with" u jUST HAD TO END HIM LIKE THAT??????? "ur clothes and hair are ugly and thats why i love u <3333" dlkajslkjlkjLKDLKSKL

u wanting to look like him is so valid tho i bet if u dm-ed mikelangelo he would tell u where he buys his clothes and how he does his makeup im really not kidding right now

and omg you're so welcome 😭😭😭 being loud on main finally payed off... im so happy and honoured that u decided to check out the musical bc of me saying incoherent things about salieri !!!!!!!

and i cannot stress enough how much "I am incapable of thinking about anything else now and I am looping lbqfm religiously it is 2am I am sor tired oh my god but if I don't disrupt my sleep schedule to focus on mor I will die" is literally me ... im not kidding .. rn is less worse but i used to listen to lbqfm on repeat at 2am too everyday ...... i listened to it more than 100 times in 4 months.......... i replaced that with songs from la legende du roi arthur after i watched it but still i always go back to mor when its very late at night 😭

anyways the sentence "Hi I just wanted to say you're the reason I watched Mozart l'opera rock?" alone was the best thing i could have read . question mark and all. thank u sooooo much for sending this it made my whole monthhhhhhh 😭💕💞💗💗🤧

#come off anon lets be friends :((((#u should make a mor bloggggggggg #im sounding desperate bc i am #u seem really nice i love how u described it all ldkjs #thank u for taking the time to send this 💕#asks #keep

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lemon-pilled · 3 years

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bloodswap andari (maybe???)

because just thinking about it wasnt enough lol-

i honestly have no idea what im doing or why, but when my brain says do it i do it. andari is my trollsona, shes jade so i wont do a jade version of her cos thats dumb. i guess ill start with rust? but i should probably introduce andari or something. ok.

andair leinol is my trollsona. shes a jadeblood, has a hive that looks like a tree and is a tree, and has a barkbeast lusus (who she calls norri). regular andari is kinda a jerk? like, she lives in a forest and shoots down anyone who walks too deep into said forest. except for her quadrants but she only has a moirail. she talks | l!ke th!s. !f no one xan understand then thats the!r problem not hers. |.

she acts like someone who cares very little about anything. which is true, she only really cares for her hive and her lusus (and her moirail too). id say she dosent like the caste system that much but lives by it cause she dosent want to get culled. yknow what thats the one thing that all the andaris have in common.

yeah ok bloodswap time :33

so rust!andari is quiet. other lowbloods dont seem to like that about her, so they stay away, which makes her a great target for the highbloods to bully, which then just causes her to be even more secluded, and the whole cycle loops. she accepts it, cause hey shes a lowblood what else is she supposed to do? somehow its also sorta lucky. if the highbloods love to push this one troll around, they probably wouldnt cull her. of course shes still scared of what would happen if they eventually got tired of her. rust!andari wears oversized longsleeved shirts and pants, to make herself seem smaller and blend into the crowd.

bronze!andari would be determined and hard-working. she wants to come off as a good worker, though sometimes she overworks herself and ends up getting hurt. she will gladly listen to trolls in higher castes, since she dosent want to be culled, and also because she thinks that her hate for the caste system is forbidden and shouldnt even exist.

gold!andari is a bit of a crackhead. her psionics are neon green and yellow. she stays in her hive most of the time because shes not exactly a social person.

fuck its hard to write a good desc for all the castes so imma just stick to something simple. anyways

lime/mutant!andari is always on the run. not cause shes an outlaw, but cause shes scared of being found out.

olive!andari acts like a feral animal just to make people stay away from the area around her hive/hole in the tree.

jade andari is normal andari lol

teal!andari likes to pretend to be a detective, but really shes just there for show. she does work as a legislacerator, but shes not the best.

cerulean!andari will offer her services (spreading propaganda) for a price. she be a sneaky, sly bitch.

indigo!andari really likes to suck up to the highbloods. like, if a purple, violet or fuchsia tells her to do something, shell do it. anything for the highbloods, am i right.

purple!andari is a cuckoo. she dosent exactly like the church, but as long as they let her kill stuff then who gives a damn.

violet!andari looooves her weapons. especially if they have shiny things (jewels). also her lusus is now a manta ray, not a dog. shes pretty ruthless, loves to dress up as her ancestor or some other famous violetblood.

fuchsia!andari would probably be nicknamed the hidden heiress, since she spends most of her time underwater. the only trolls that know what shes like would be violetbloods. the only time she might even be seen out of water would be when shes hunting lusii to keep g’lbgloyb quiet (i think g’lbgolyb is the lusus for every fuchsia heiress? not sure lol).

but yea this is the base ideas i have for all the bloodswap versions of andari

maybe ill draw some art of each one?

#help #bloodswap #trollsona #what the fuck am i doooooing #god this is long im sorry for whoever reads this

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glitchinthesystemspiderbyte · 6 years

Text

[52] Glitch in the System - The Beat Goes On (Pt. 2)

Sorry for the delay. E legitimately forgot what day it was because it’s snowmageddon and yesterday she got a very substantial and painful tattoo. Here’s Part 1 if you missed it!

We’ll also be streaming tonight around 7pm EST if you’re bored and want to hear us eat popcorn. We also take fic requests in real time so hit us up!

The dog park happens.

“Hey hey!” Lúcio announced as Sombra and Widowmaker emerged from their room, Sombra rubbing the sleep from her eyes in pyjamas, Widowmaker already dressed for the day and as alert as ever. “You lot like pancakes?”

“Yes,” Sombra replied immediately, leaving Widow’s side in a mad dash for the kitchen.

“You made us breakfast?” Widowmaker said, looking suspicious.

“Well yeah,” Lúcio laughed, peering out from the kitchen. He was wearing a dark green apron with his signature frog logo on it, and the scent of warm cinnamon wafted behind him. “That’s what a good host does.”

“Oh,” Widow replied, and Sombra could see her struggling to reconcile his unprompted kindness. The hesitation was obvious enough that Lúcio began to look a bit nervous until Widow unfurrowed her brows and looked up. “Pancakes are fine.” Then, to herself. “Why is it always pancakes?”

“Breakfast is ready, then!” he said, smile resuming its usual spot across his face. “Maple or hot fudge?”

“Hot fudge?” Sombra asked incredulously. “Excuse me?”

“Yeah, right?” he grinned, handing Sombra a plate. “I was a maple boy myself until Hana turned me onto the idea of hot fudge over banana pancakes. Wanna give it a shot?”

“Sí absolutamente,” Sombra said without missing a beat, taking the banana he offered her next.

“I am not that adventurous,” Widow said as Lúcio passed her a plate. “I will be fine with maple.”

“Nothing wrong with the old standby,” he nodded. “Y’all sit, I’ll bring out the accoutrements.” He added a French accent to the last word, vanishing before Widow could judge him appropriately for it.

Breakfast was an easy affair - pancakes, some fresh local fruits, and a mix of tea and coffee offerings. Conversation was even easier - a feat Sombra missed from her time in Dorado - and they idled for a bit after finishing until Danu made it readily apparent that she needed to be let out.

“Anyone want to go on a walk?” Lúcio asked. Danu was the first to reply, with an exuberant bark and a wagging tail, and Sombra nodded as well.

“I could use some sun,” she said, glancing outside. It looked beautiful, if warm, and she missed the reliable muggy heat of home.

“I will finalize the plans for our departure?” Widowmaker suggested, raising an eyebrow.

“Good plan, araña,” Sombra agreed. Lúcio snapped a leash onto Danu’s dollar and they were off.

It was late enough that the sun was shining, and early enough that the full weight of the oppressive midday Brazilian heat had yet to settle on the mountainside community. Danu walked nicely on her leash, sticking close to Lúcio’s side as they strolled down the smooth walkway that looped around the neighborhood. She didn’t tug at the leash once, and Sombra marveled yet again at how well Lúcio had managed to train her despite his impressively full calendar. The guy was booked solid for the next month - they’d just managed to catch him in time. She’d checked before asking to stay with him, of course.

“Where we headed?” Sombra asked, hands at her sides as they strolled along the walking path beside the road.

“Dog park down the way,” he said as a hovercar ambled by them. “Danu loves it so long as Bella isn’t there.”

“Bella?” Sombra asked, looking around. The neighborhood was a far cry from the favelas she knew Lúcio had grown up in, but a general feeling of camaraderie seemed to exist even within these spaced out structures. Folks outside tending their gardens or walking their dogs waved and called out to him by name, and he had a smile and personal greeting for each person they passed.

“One of the local dogs. Young boxer. Good pup, but a little rambunctious for Danu.” He chuckled and patted her head. “She might be big, but she’s a giant baby.”

“Poor girl.”

“Eh, she puts up with a lot,” he grinned. They turned a corner into what appeared to be a community park, and a few minutes later reached a large fenced in plot of land with several dogs playing as their accompanying humans chatted along the sides.

Lúcio unsnapped Danu’s leash and, after looking back for his nod of approval, she dashed off to join the others by the agility course and robotic fetch machines. One of the smaller dogs was yapping angrily at a robot as it held a ball out of reach, slowly winding back in preparation to pitch it into the distance. As the bot’s arm snapped and the ball flew, Danu trampled the small, eager pup and nabbed the ball before it even hit the ground.

“Oops,” Sombra said, grinning as she and Lúcio found a bench to sit on. “And you said she was a baby.”

“Even babies can be bullies,” he replied, amused. “She’s a gentle giant though.”

“Tell that to the terrier she just stepped on.”

Lúcio chuckled to himself as a large wolfhound raced by them, barking at another dog escaping with its toy. “That’s Breno,” he said as the hound passed. “He’s got a good spirit, even though he usually ends up being the punching bag of the park. Something about his size just makes him a target for attention it seems.”

“And Danielle thought Danu was a horse,” Sombra said, watching Breno lope hopefully over to the dachshund worrying his stuffed banana.

“His human’s over there,” Lúcio said, pointing as a diminutive woman sitting at a table eating a sandwich. “The irony thickens.”

“This is neat. I’ve never been to a dog park,” Sombra mused, leaning forward on her hands. “Weird, considering how much traveling I’ve done.”

“You don’t have a dog, do you?”

“Nope, just a very personable cat.”

“No occasion to visit the local dog parks then, I’d wager.” The conversation stalled slightly, and they turned their attention to the variety of happy canines and their companions. “Where have you traveled, anyway?” Lúcio asked casually after a few moments, following her eyes as she watched the dogs run.

“Just, you know,” she shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable and acutely aware that her open-ended comment had left her open to questions. “Around.” She’d let their easy camaraderie put her off guard, and she wasn’t ready with a compelling lie. A part of her, she noticed with a slow rising horror, didn’t even feel like trying.

“For any reason?” he pressed, and she noticed he was pointedly not making eye contact.

“Fun, I guess,” she replied slowly, racking her brain to come up with something believable. Traveling artist? Too flowery. Mobile consultant? Too dry. International IT? Ew.

“Fun?” Lúcio looked over at her with a curious expression on his face as she spoke, and she felt warning bells go off in her head. Familiar, gut-wrenching warning bells.

“And work,” she continued awkwardly, settling on a nondescript mixture of her vague train of thought. “I benefit from continuous business trips.”

Lúcio raised an eyebrow at her, draping an arm over the back of the bench. She saw him cast a glance around before he leaned slightly closer with a slow-dawning smirk on his face.

“Business trips, huh?” he said conspiratorially. “Is that just what you named them or are they called that in your dossiers from Talon, too?”

She sat up straight, an icy fear crawling up her spine like a spider. “What do you mean?” she asked, feeling any effort at denying the claim slipping through her teeth.

“Oh come on, Sombra,” he rolled his eyes. “I’ve known for a while.”

“How?” she asked in such a manner that Lúcio’s smile faltered ever so slightly.

“You weren’t exactly discreet,” he said, shrugging off his concern. “Hyper-cybridized former Los Muertos hacker involved in the LumériCo break-in? An uncanny knowledge of technology and networking? Mysteriously always surrounded by bright purple hard light screens with no CPU in sight?”

“Oops,” Sombra replied, remembering their several video chats wherein she took almost no precautions against what Lúcio had seen, only what he might find should he attempt to tap her connection. Programming error, she sighed to herself.

“I mean, I’ve read the Overwatch briefs.” He shrugged, seeming far too lackadaisical for a guy who just casually accused her of being involved in international terrorism.

“How -” she asked, her curiosity momentarily surpassing her worry. “How did you get classified briefings?”

“Hana,” he replied, offering her a rueful half smile. “She likes to make fun of how much they resemble StarCraft strategies. They might be full of propaganda and hyperbole, but some details stick out.”

“Like the brainwashed blue assassin?”

“Yeah, like that.”

Sombra’s brain raced, not an uncommon occurrence in itself, but this time it was tinged with an unfamiliar panic. Lúcio was a friend - a valued friend as it turned out, and no one in their right mind would keep her around once they knew who she really was.

Would she have to kill him? Somehow, the idea of sending Widowmaker after Lúcio made her more sick than her decision to remove Miguel as a security threat, even though - all things considered - Lúcio was a far greater concern than the low-status errand boy she once knew as a child.

In all honesty, she didn’t think she could do it, no matter what the consequences. Not now. She had a friend, and the importance of that had settled into her bones.

“I don’t have a great answer to this,” she said morosely, her weak response more palatable than the growing silence between them. Danu barked in the distance, the dog oblivious to what was happening a few feet away. “I did what I had to.”

“You had to work for Talon?” he asked, hands in his pockets as he looked off where Danu was jumping around happily. His tone was mildly accusatory, and while she bristled against it, she also had trouble finding fault in his distaste. She wasn’t a big fan of it herself.

“I didn’t have to,” she shrugged, upset at the turn the conversation had made. “And I only kind of work for them. It’s more an arrangement of convenience.”

“But Danielle…” he said. “She works for them.”

Sombra’s expression turned bitter. “She was created by them; she had no choice.”

“She’s still a murderer.”

“So am I.”

“But she likes to kill.”

“Well I love her anyway.”

Lúcio stopped and looked at her finally, smiling softly. “You what?”

“Shut up.”

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

Sombra looked over at Lúcio to see his typical impish grin in place replacing the uncertainty that had lived there moments before. Offering a smaller one in return, she smacked him on the shoulder. “Jerk.”

“You know I only drop the truth.”

They laughed, but Sombra could feel the looming elephant in the room threaten to smother them again. She decided to beat it to the punch. “Listen, I know I’ve done some questionable - ok, shitty things, and that maybe my methods aren’t always the most...ethical. I enjoy manipulating those in power, because I can, and because I’m tired of watching the world be run by a handful of corrupt individuals with egoes to feed. But I swear on my mother’s grave,” she insisted, holding up a hand, “I am doing it for a greater good. I just…” she sighed. “Might not know exactly what that is yet. Not completely.”

Lúcio put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it comfortingly. “We never do, do we? I didn’t know stealing my sound barrier would work; I just knew something had to be done, because things were bad and that was the only truth I knew for certain. Chances were just as good the Vishkar would have leveled the favela and everyone in it as punishment for my actions. There’s precedent for that, after all.”

“You’d certainly have made a convenient scapegoat,” Sombra agreed.

“Sure would have. As luck had it, the people had my back and were willing to put their bodies on the line for their freedom. Without that?” he shrugged. “I would have just been another corpse thrown against the cold metal shell of the Vishkar machine.”

“Survival’s a hell of a motivator, isn’t she?”

“Sure is.” He scratched the back of his head. “Listen, we all make choices for a reason, and I might not agree with all of yours, but I am the last person going to tell you that you shouldn’t have made them. Besides,” he chuckled. “I like having a friend to talk about this stuff with.”

“Yeah,” Sombra said, feeling uncharacteristically chagrined. “It’s been a while since I had a friend.”

“Me too, man,” Lúcio nodded in agreement.

Sombra scoffed. “You’re a fuckin’ liar. You’re man of the hour here - everyone knows you and loves you.” A part of her couldn’t help but feel hurt whenever she thought of how easily her role in LumériCo’s downfall was dismissed as an act of terrorism by those outside her country. At least Brazil loved Lúcio for what he did.

To her surprise, Lúcio’s response was laughter. “Yeah, I get how you might think that. Everyone does.” He whistled for Danu and the tall animal stopped worrying the stick she had pinned to the ground, ears perked up as he called her over. “I don’t want to sound like some ungrateful guy with too much fame, but sometimes it can get a bit lonely in the spotlight.” He shrugged, snapping Danu’s leash back onto her red collar as she loped to his side. “Folks forget where the music came from. I still got scars from where I dragged myself up out of the dirt, and I could have been killed stealing that Vishkar tech.” He looked at Sombra, his expression intent, and a little bit sad. “Sometimes you gotta break some rules to do what’s right, but the folks buying and promoting my music don’t always want to hear that, you dig?”

Sombra looked away and smiled. “Yeah,” she said. “I dig.” She let her mind wander back to her time in Dorado, after she’d left Los Muertos and vanished into anonymity. “Some fucking old American soldier comes in and says Los Muertos is a criminal gang to be purged, and then Overwatch labels me a terrorist for trying to take down a greedy corporate monster bleeding my people dry. But who stopped them in the end?” Her subsequent laugh grew bitter. “Those same criminals and terrorists.”

Lúcio laughed softly. “The Vishkar gave me a similar label.”

“Guess the only difference between us were sweet beats,” Sombra replied, smiling.

“Well I mean you also do work for a terrorist organization.” Sombra glared at him, but it didn’t hold up against his wide smile. “What?”

“Okay, that’s fair.”

“Hey,” Lúcio said, sobering a bit. “Listen, I understand why you do what you do, and why you’ve done what you’ve done. I might not entirely get all your methods,” he smirked, “but I certainly understand your motivations.”

“Thank you,” she replied, swallowing. She felt an uneasy relief wash over her. “I suppose it goes without saying that if you tell anyone I’ll have to kill you?” She meant it as a joke, but considering recent events, it was difficult to commit entirely to the bit.

Luckily, Lúcio took it in stride. “Are you kidding me?” He shook his head. “You know way too many of my personal secrets at this point. I ain’t telling no one who you are.”

Standing up from the bench, he offered Sombra his hand. “I got your back, ok? You’re just going to have to trust me on that.”

Sombra looked up at the face smiling knowingly down at her. It was unlike her to take people at their word; against her very nature to engage in the roulette game of trust. She’d survived by accepting no compromise on the matter, protecting her anonymity with a ruthless cunning that left no room for exploitation.

Except that she’d let Widowmaker in - a genetically engineered assassin with limited emotional savvy who all things considered should have turned her in a dozen times. She’d let Gabriel in, too, if to a lesser extent, and the man could have ruined her life with the stroke of a pen if so inclined.

So what was one more open door if the person on the other side was willing to keep it safe?

Taking his hand, she let him pull her up into a hug. It felt nice, being close to someone that wasn’t Widow.

“All right,” she said, stepping back. Danu barked at them, and she interpreted it as approval, and the words came out easier than she ever would have thought. “I trust you.”

*Read from the beginning or check out our intro post! All stories tagged under #glitchfic. Table of contents located here.

#spiderbyte #sombramaker #widowsombra #sombra x widowmaker #widowmaker x sombra #sombra #olivia colomar #widowmaker #amélie lacroix #amelie lacroix #lucio correia dos santos #lucio #overwatch #overwatch fanfic #overwatch fandom #overwatch fic #glitch in the system #glitchfic

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pastelgrungewrecker · 7 years

Text

Empty

They all felt it at once; all five of them, clutching their frames like they were imploding slowly into something unnameable and unending- like their everything and anything had poured out their vents along with stale air.

A yawning void, an emptiness in their spark that seemed strong enough to crush each crystal into shimmering dust like shrapnel, like shards, like china crashing to the floor during a bitter argument.

Something mourning and yet not broken; something praying through tears and something bitterly fond.

And five points careened towards a cracking and sputtering center like a disaster’s orbit- like the pull of a supermassive black hole gorging itself desperately on the universe to fill a kind of emptiness that was near tangible.

Prowl sat in front of a wide, wide window.

His arms were wrapped around his midsection as the holoscreen behind him played a grainy, grainy loop on repeat- over and over again, it flickered and spat as broken audio rang out.

Old footage, old relics, old images from before the world ended in blasts of fire and soot and death.

Excavations of the remains of Praxus had colored his gestalt in history in smears of burnt remains and chips of old stones- had reminded him that while he fiddled his Rome still burned.

And something in the TacHead’s spark had broken open to let ugliness flow out in oozing and toxic rivers full of poison and unspent tears.

And the dust and debris the Constructicons washed away as they tried to resurrect what was lost had filled his respiratory systems unto choking- clogging the filters with wails and steelshards until he couldn’t exvent the stench of home sweet ruin anymore.

And his EM field spread and spread and spread and filled their home in white noise and grey static and old suffering until his knees no longer held him up and he stumbled back against his desk- warring against his systems and processor and sense of self with weakened fists still decorated with the manacles of old slogans and propaganda-

“Prowl!”

He turned his helm, to see the blurring image of the door frame filled with green and purple and worry so potent he could almost believe it was for him.

“Some-”, static broke his words apart like his home once did as fire and death rained down, “Somethssszzzt’s wr-ng?”

Bonecrusher, it was Bones who had him- when had the constructicon learned to move so quickly? And why, why couldn’t Prowl feel work-roughed servos on his plating, gathering him up like so many scattered memoirs from where he had been sitting upon the floor.

“It’s a’right boss, it’s okay- you’re gonna be okay. We’re here now, we gotcha.”

His legs wouldn’t work and for a moment he thought his processor was glitching again, that he would tumble headlong down into inky black to awake hours or days later. But not this time, no such mercy this time. Not as he felt something running down over his faceplates, something cool and clean and heavy with gravesoil that he swore filled his chestplate to smother his pulse.

“I-I... I..”, he stammered, his vocoder spat static and he coughed, “I-I aband-abandoned, I...”

He was halfway dragged, halfway carried as Bonecrusher eased him out of the office and into the clear central room- the light was cool and calm and living against his plating and the realization that he was alive suddenly hit him full force and he gagged like his lines had been ripped from his throat.

“I abandoned EVERYONE!”

That abyss that had opened within the bond darkened and became heavier.

Prowl’s doorwings hung limp down his back as his optics widened impossibly, leaking coolant tears as his hands shook and jumped like electricity was burning out the connectors- and he looked at each of them in turn with something in his optics falling to pieces.

“It’s all.... gone.. gone and dead and gone and... I.”, he whispered, legs giving out again as Bonecrusher took his whole weight, “I let it, let them, let everyone... I abandoned, I.. I ran scared I never.. I didn’t protect them..”

Bluestreak and Smokescreen flickered briefly in his processor and he finally, effortlessly, broke apart like a seismic event. A howl echoed from the center cores of his struts and his helm tilted back- his doorwings trembled and his servos curled into fists to press against his roiling tanks through tightly-clamped abdominal plating.

Green and purple and red and fear and mourning surrounded him in a growing mass and he let himself be buried, buried under whispers and please and gentle comforts and wished with all his spark and might that it would change into destroyed chunks of foundation and history to smother him like a candle lit on a holy vigil for the dead and dying.

And Prowl mourned like a thunderstorm and let himself rain down on the grave kept pristine in the depths of his sparkchamber where who he once was and what he once loved lay cold and clean and still forevermore.

Black, white, and grey- his colors never made more sens to him before now.

Soot, and ash, and a freshly tamped grave plot.

#pastelwrites #tf #prowl #constructicons #have some fresh hot suffering

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jetbootcollection · 7 years

Text

Rebel Propaganda

Summary: Pidge finally gets a solid lead on her family, but they are set to perform for the Galra’s entertainment at a gladiator arena. What she finds when she gets there is not what she expected.

Back home, Lance had taken to walking the streets of his hometown or the corridors of the Garrison to clear his head. Sore feet and ignoring people to be alone with his thoughts made his problems seem more manageable somehow. This made the Castle of Lions the perfect place to calm down after a shouting match with Keith or a lecture from Shrio. He could walk for what felt like miles without running into another soul, and the ship’s gentle hum was better than the bustle of traffic any day.

On one such walk, he finds Pidge in the lounge going through yet another Galra database on her laptop. The corner of her screen is red with angry looking symbols flying by at blinding speed, the rest of the screen taken up by much slower English in blue. Pidge usually finds some hiding place to curl up in when she searched for her family, saying she didn’t want to bum out her teammates.

“You want to talk through it? I used to help my siblings with their homework and half the time they solved it themselves while explaining it to me.” Lance wanted to help because, as Pidge had correctly guessed, seeing her search fruitlessly was bumming him out.

“Like Rubber Duck Debugging?” Pidge responded as if Lance knew what she meant. He, of course, did not. Pidge sees his confused look and explains RDD while she goes back to looking at her screen. “You place a rubber duck or something in front of your screen and explain your code line by line in terms so simple that even a bath toy could understand. When you find a part that doesn’t make sense enough to explain, you found the problem.”

Lance doesn’t like being compared to a duck, but takes a seat on the couch next to her so she can walk him through it. He listens for 15 minutes when he gets an idea.

“So you have only been searching for them by their names and prison IDs?”

“How else would I.” Pidge says dejectedly while leaning back to sink into the couch. This was why she kept her search to herself, if only to save herself from having to admit she was out of ideas.

“I don’t know. There are only two humans in the Galra’s system so you could try searching by species.”

Pidge starts to roll her eyes at the idea for being too simple, then stops mid-roll when she realizes it’s brilliant. Snapping upright to type on her laptop, she makes an angry noise in the back of her throat that startles Lance enough to fall off the couch.

“What the quiznak was that for?”

“It’s the Galra word for ‘human.’ Just need to figure out how to spell it.”

Lance had left the lounge maybe half an hour ago when Allura calls everyone to the bridge. He meets Shiro at an intersection and the two continue to make their way up together.

“Any idea what this is about? She didn’t sound as urgent as usual.” He asks while moving at his usual Ready For Action jogging pace.

“I suggested Pidge search for her family by species instead of by prison ID. Must have found something.” Lance answers. Shiro breaks into a full run, which Lance can barely keep up with. Fortunately, the bridge is not far off and Lance is not too winded by the time they arrive. They still have to wait for Hunk and Coran to come up from the Yellow Lion’s hangar.

Once everyone has gathered, Pidge begins.

“I found this as part of a galaxy wide Galra broadcast, along with the news and stock market stuff.” She says, putting up an image on the main view screen.

“Looks like a concert poster.” Says Keith. The other boys nod and grunt in agreement. The poster has a picture of Earth over a purple nebula background with words curved around it. The only word that translates is “Human.”

“Can you translate the rest?” asks Hunk.

“It looks like it might be Lower Galrian, the language that civilians use. It looks like the language has evolved over the last 10,000 years. There’s no telling what it says unless we find a way to translate it to War Galrian first, which is unlikely. They always made a point of keeping the two languages separate.” Coran explains apologetically.

“Those numbers at the bottom still look like coordinates and a date.” Says Shiro, putting his time as a Galra prisoner to good use. He had received a crash course in Galra numbers from another prisoner so that he could read the schedule for his next fight.

Allura searches her memory of the time before the war when she had known Lower Galrian to some extent. The shape of the numerals had changed a bit, but the loops and intersections of each pen stroke were similar enough to read. She runs a search on the string of numbers and doesn’t like what she finds.

“The coordinates are for a known gladiatorial arena. We have to put a stop to this.”

Knowing that Pidge’s family very well could be on the chopping block, the team puts together a plan to sneak in. Whatever this event was, a one-on-one or a battle royal, it was starting in only a few hours. There was little time to gather intel, and the Galra were being surprisingly tight lipped about it.

Pidge scans every coms channel she can find for more information but the few transmissions she can associate with the event at the arena are little more than excited ramblings. Behind her, Shiro goes over what he knows about the Galra arenas from his time as Champion. The backstage areas where usually lightly guarded unless it was a title match or the fight involved the leaders of recently conquered planets. Pidge looks over her shoulder and immediately sees how dead his eyes look. The other Paladins can’t help but notice how rehearsed his speech was, as if he was clueing in new prisoners. While thankful for the knowledge, they felt bad for Shrio needing to push through sour memories for their sake.

Allura opens a wormhole and hides the Castle inside the bright white rings of a gas giant, with the arena on one of the giant’s larger moons. Through the dense ice and rock they can see their destination. Dozens of civilian ships are in orbit, with most of the moon’s surface covered in lights. Lance whistles as he notices how festive the arena looks.

“Looks like quite the party down there.”

“Only the Galra would find blood sport worth celebrating.” Allura says bitterly, disgusted by the notion. The Paladins share glances and come to a wordless agreement to not share the contents of certain history textbooks from Earth. The Galra and Roman Empires shared the same taste in entertainment, but the princess didn’t need to know that.

With the main event fast approaching, the Paladins pile into the Green Lion and slip through the orbital parking lot of ships under the safety of the cloak. Behind the cockpit, they had already set up a makeshift medbay to triage whoever they end up rescuing.

Getting in was surprisingly easy. The team was used to sneaking around drones with all kinds of sensors, actively looking for intruders. But by the time Green had landed it was clear that the guards posted around the perimeter were no more threatening than the security guard that had chased them out of the space mall. The arena side entrance was even unlocked.

Shiro sensed a trap, but knew that Pidge’s family was too important to waste time being overly cautious. The team made their way down narrow concrete hallways until they came to a security terminal in the middle of the corridor. On the main screen was the arena floor.

“You sure there is going to be a fight? Looks more like a stage to me.” Hunk notices. The arena floor has a raised platform in the middle, complete with a fancy red curtain and powerful lighting. The audience was seated on only half of the circular arena, setting the focus for a directional performance rather than the normal fights.

“Sometimes the fights are themed after the cultures the fighters come from. I remember a fight once where two Eddgonians sang each other to death like it was an opera.” Shiro remembered while instinctively reaching to rest his hand on the elbow of his robotic arm. He had seen some messed-up acts in his time. Realizing where his hand was, he blends the motion into a hand signal to keep moving.

Dodging the first patrol they had run into, they made their way to the backstage area. Behind the stage was a storage area with semitransparent black curtains blocking the view of the audience. The Paladins snuck their way through what looked like backdrops for a stage production and a multitude of props.

“Man, the Galra never do anything halfway. This makes me feels like we are on Broadway.” Lance says, thinking back to the many school plays he had been a part of.

“Probably going all out for this themed fight because the fighter is the same species as the Empire’s greatest enemies. They want to rub it in.” Keith says, trying hard to not sound menacing. Pidge grimaces at the thought of her father and brother being put through extra cruel treatment because of her.

The roar of the crowd tells the team that they are too late to stop the fight before it starts. Pidge sprints to the opening on the side of the stage. Everyone assumes the worst when she freezes in place, her face contorted in shock and surprise.

“HEY! What are you doing back here?!” A guard yells hidden behind a backdrop, grabbing her arm and throwing her back the way she came.

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY BROTHER?” Pidge yells, barely audible over the music that started to play.

Hunk is silently thankful that he had not been the first to look, imagining what Matt must look like to elicit that kind of response from Pidge. He sees a glint of a door opening behind him and pulls out his bayard. Battle instincts kick in as the Paladins are swarmed by dozens of guards. Some are stronger than others, but nothing compared to the soldiers they fight on a regular basis.

All through the fight the loud music shakes the floor, ruining their balance. The guards seem accustomed to it, leveraging the music to their advantage. Try as they might, the acoustics are not in the Paladin’s favor. They can’t even make out the content of the music beyond the thumping beat. Something in the back of Shiro’s mind seems to think the beat feels Japanese in origin, but there is a fight to be won and a friend to save so he ignores it.

The lights dim as a new song begins, and Keith could see thousands of small purple lights appear in the stands through the thin black curtain. Are those…glowsticks? No time to worry about that now. Not when Pidge is mowing through mooks so fast she could be a danger to the team if he lets his guard down. She had already thrown someone so hard they knocked over the guard Keith had been fighting, who would have fallen on him if he not for fast reflexes.

Despite not being the caliber of fighters they are used to, the guards were doing their job well as they managed to herd the Paladins farther and farther from the stage. By the time the last wave of guards were taken down, the crowd had cheered through half a dozen songs or so. Shiro prayed that Matt had built up the stamina and skill to survive that long in one piece.

Pidge is yet again the first to the side of the stage, tossing aside an unconscious guard blocking the stairs. But this time someone steps out as she approaches. Whoever it was wearing a fabulous purple dress and was holding a microphone.

Shiro squints to focus on this new face only for his eye to go wide as he makes a sudden realization and can’t seem to find the words. Keith, Hunk, and Lance take a few more seconds to recognize the other person in the photo Pidge carries around and are equally dumbfounded.

It was Matt. Covered in makeup and big fluffy bows. He squeaks in fear as he suddenly finds himself faced with five armored strangers with weapons drawn. Taking a step back, he can see by the look in their eyes that they are just as surprised to see him as he is to see them. Speaking of eyes, the eyes of the short green one look kind familiar. Before he knows it, they have ripped off their helmet and Matt suddenly finds himself looking into a mirror. They share a look for a moment, not believing what they are seeing.

Matt doesn’t respond until he is certain who this person is. They changed a lot in their time apart, but so had he.

“You became a DUDE!?”

“You became a GIRL?!” Pidge blurted out half a second later. Pidge knew her brother would not give answers until she gave an answer first. He had asked first, and that was the rule Mom had put down after one too many arguments across the dinner table. “I broke into the Garrison to get info on the Kerberos mission. Iverson banned me when I got caught so I enrolled as a guy. You?”

“Some rebels broke me out of jail and I joined up. They needed a propaganda tool so I suggested an Idol Singer as a joke. It kinda snowballed from there.” He saw his sister break eye contact to take in his appearance.

“It looks good on you.” Pidge compliments with a hint of jealousy. Why did he look better in a dress than she ever had?

“I know, right?” he says while bending his knees slightly and flaring out his hands. The slight turn of the motion makes the dress twirl a bit.

A new voice screams at the sight of what could be hundreds of guards piled on the floor and his star performer cornered by the probable assailants. Hunk was glad he had the presence of mind to stow away his bayard when the fight ended, otherwise he would have dropped his gun on his foot.

“Matt! Who are these people? What do they want?” He pleads, reaching out with one of his arms while the other three point to the Paladins.

“Jyato, hey. These are my guests,” Matt gestures to the still shocked Paladins, “And they forgot their passes. Security gave them a hard time but they kicked butt! They’re soooo strong!” He ends with a swoon as he clasped his hand together. Pidge can’t decide whether to punch or laugh at her brother.

Jyato the manager is clearly annoyed with Matt’s antics. This seems to have happened before.

“Fine. Clean yourself up and get changed. Phase 2 is already in orbit and they sound impatient.” He concedes before stocking off in a huff.

“Phase 2?” Pidge asks.

“Of my show. You guys want to help blow up some Galra Battleships?” Matt asks brightly as if inviting them to a pool party.

“…What...” Lance and Keith say in perfect unison as Matt walks past them, slyly sliding a white gloved hand along both their jaws and coaxing their heads to turn so their eyes stayed glued to him.

“Come with me you handsome devils.” Matt said seductively, yet with no intent in his voice. Pidge could tell he was laying it on thick. And by the way the Blue and Red Paladins were blushing, they were eating it up.

Matt explains a bit about his situation as he leads the Paladins to a temporary looking hangar outside the arena. Everything he was doing he was doing was part of the show, and that included flirting with the crowd until he was out of sight. He apologized to Lance and Keith for being so forward, saying that fans always peak backstage. And who is he to disappoint his fans?

The hangar bustles with activity. Fighter craft are being fueled and pilots hastily suiting up, with a muffled speaker relaying directions somewhere overhead.

“Okay, this is not how I thought today would turn out.” Lance starts. “Seriously, is this even happening? First we found Pidge’s brother in a dress and now we’re stepping into Star Wars.”

Matt chuckles. “Yeah, now that you mention it, it does kinda…” Matt pauses and turns to his sister. “Pidge? Like Dad used to call you?”

She winces as she is reminded of where the name came from. “I needed a name to enroll with.” She said shyly, hoping her brother would not embarrass her by telling everyone how she had earned the nickname. Fortunately, he had either grown some tact or was saving that story for later.

“I like it.” Matt turns back to the other Paladins. “You guys can take a pod back to your ship to get those Lions I’ve heard so much about. Kati…Pidge? Pidge. Pidge and I will start the show.” They could discuss which name to use later. As far as her friends were concerned her name was Pidge, and that was good enough for now.

The boys cram into pod Matt had pointed to and hurry back to Castle, and Pidge reaches out with her mind to summon Green from her hiding place. Matt whistles approvingly as Green touches down.

“Okay, now I believe you.”

“Believe what?”

“That you would fly a ship way cooler than I ever would.” Pidge can’t help but smile as she remembers the dinner she had made that bold statement.

Matt walk behind a curtain to change into a flight suit that matches the dress he had been wearing. Following him to his ship, Pidge’s eyes nearly pop when she sees it.

“Oh my god. Matt, that ship is so extra!” she said, barely holding back the laughter. Matt’s ship looked like a retrofitted Galra fighter, the kind the Lions smashed by the dozen. It had oversized engines, showy laser guns that really didn’t need to stick out that far, and glowing purple armor plates. An artistic rendition of Matt’s face was painted on the wings, sticking his tongue out and throwing a peace sign with a disembodied hand. Pidge could have sworn she had seen something like it in an anime one time.

Still fighting back the giggles, she boards the Green Lion.

“All right boys, it’s show time!” Matt calls over the coms. Fighter craft explode out of the hangar in a well-practiced formation, led by Matt and Pidge.

Back at the Castle, Allura is not sure what to make of all this. The Paladins had not reported in at their scheduled time, and when they did they had informed her that Matt was going to lead the charge against the fleet amassing in orbit. Coran picked up a broadcast that was flooding the coms network.

The broadcast was blaring music and showing prerecorded videos of battles against the Galra featuring a garishly designed ship performing unnecessarily complex maneuvers. At the end of the song, Pidge -no, that must be Matt- began broadcasting from a plush looking cockpit.

“Hey everybody! Sorry to keep you waiting. But look who I found backstage! My little sister!” He said in a sickeningly cute voice. Was this person really related to Pidge? The broadcast smoothly introduced a second camera angle, this time with Pidge in the Green Lion.

“HI!!!” Pidge squealed happily, waving into the camera. Allura’s immediate thought was that they had been infected with some kind of virus to make them act strangely, but she would give Pidge the benefit of the doubt.

“My sister happens to a Paladin of Voltron. Let’s hear who wants to see us kick some Empire butt!”

The cheer that came as a response did not come over the coms but Allura felt them no less as the Castle was rocked by the sheer force of it.

“But sound doesn’t travel through space!” Coran said in a panic, clinging to his control panel to steady himself. Never underestimate the power of a crowd, Allura thought.

The remaining Paladins had made it to their Lions and were launching just as the battle started. They too had picked up Matt’s broadcast.

“This is ridiculous. How does he expect anyone to take him seriously?” Keith questioned.

“It all about moral, man.”

“Lance is right. People can do anything if you give them the right encouragement.” Hunk replied. “These rebels must get all kinds of support from their fans.”

Matt opens a private channel, speaking normally but still with a feminine flare.

“Alright guys, here’s the thing. These are not real Galra ships.” The Paladins raise eyebrows and give confused grunts. “These are captured vessels that are remote controlled. We modified the laser cannons on them to only give a real hard shove without burning a hole in anything. Feel free to tank a few shots for the sake of the show. If any more ships show up, those ones are real.”

Keith groaned. This wasn’t even a real fight. Shiro could almost taste the disappointment.

“Come on Keith, it’ll be fun. All in the name of moral. Now, let’s FORM VOLTRON!”

And what a show it had been.

Or so Lance thought. As he woke up and uncoiled himself from the bedsheets, he couldn’t help but regret waking up from such a fantastic dream. Keith had managed to enjoy himself, and the face Pidge had made once Matt was safely aboard had him thinking her checks would break from the smile.

“Man that dream was awesome. I bet Pidge would get a kick out of it.”

Lance yawns heavily, stretching his arms as he does. Food first, then story time.

Lance feels his tiredness grow as he approaches the kitchen. It would seem he did not sleep well despite having such a vivid dream, and hadn’t bothered doing his bedtime beauty ritual. He is the last one to breakfast this morning. As per usual he greets everyone clockwise around the table.

“Pidge, Keith, Shiro, Hunk, Coran, Pidge, Allura. Goood morning.” Usually it flowed a little better with fewer people seated, but he was late.

Lance makes it all the way to the goo dispenser before he notices the growing sounds of muffled snickering. All he had said was ‘good morning’ to everyone. What was so funny?

“…Wait. WHAT?! Two Pidges?” He said spinning around to point at the two.

Varying amounts of laughter erupt from around the table, none more so than the siblings sitting across from each other.

“Come on, Lance. Do we really look that similar?”

Notes:

This was entirely inspired by an art post on Tumblr. I can’t tell for certain if the owner of the blog is the artist, what with part of it being in Chinese(?), but Google Image Search gives me no reason to doubt it.

Sam Holt doesn’t get so much as a mention because everyone was pretty well distracted when Matt showed up in a dress. Hopefully Sam comes up in the conversation over breakfast once they stop laughing at Lance.

…What do you mean, I can just write him in? That’s not how this works. I find a universal parallel of Voltron I like, search the timeline for eutectic events that bookend something interesting, and record what I see. Sure, I spice things up a bit, but the story begins and ends when it decides to.

I’m not super jazzed with the title. The original title gave away that Matt was an Idol Singer, and the second “sounded like a ‘Toddlers in Tiaras’ episode title,” as a friend put it.

If you can figure out which of the Holt siblings said that last line, let me know. ‘Cause I have no idea which one said it.

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ericjuneau · 7 years

Text

Reprise (Chapter 37) [Frozen/Tangled/The Little Mermaid]

CHAPTER 37: Shatter Me

A trail of white crystals followed Elsa. Opal icicles rose out of her footsteps like stalagmites. She had lost sight of Ansel, but she knew this castle intimately. There was not an alcove he could hide in, that she wouldn't find.

The path took her to the throne room doors. She could have taken the side entrance at the back wall. It existed so nobility didn't have to tread the same carpet as commoners. But she was no longer nobility. She was more.

She kicked in the door. Ansel was standing in front of the throne, adjusting his leather jerkin.

"This is not your throne," Elsa said. She stamped her foot.

Her power spread across the floor, covering the walls with rough serrated ice. It formed too fast to freeze smoothly.

Everything turned white. Red carpet turned to blue. The vases and waving tapestries solidified. Stone walls became purple with dazzling fractal patterns. The ice spread under Ansel's feet and congregated at the throne. Its back grew tall and hexagonal, with jagged shards projecting out the top.

"I see you've made this place your own," Ansel said.

"It always was my own," Elsa said. "You are no ruler of Arendelle."

"Maybe not, but I wasn't unwelcome. You abandoned Arendelle," Ansel countered. "Twice. Each time before you plunged it into wintertide. If not for me, you would have single-handedly destroyed the kingdom. Your own people are afraid of you."

"It is not for them to decide. Arendelle needs its queen."

"Even if some people don't want me, they certainly don't want you. They think you're a monster. Don't try and deny it."

Elsa smiled. "Oh, but I am a monster. I am sorceress the likes of which have never been seen. The energy I yield is ungraspable, unimaginable, and I am its sole gatekeeper. I am as beautiful and terrible as the ocean. As treacherous as the mountain. Stronger than the will of man."

She held up her arm. Ice magic swirled around her hand, coating it with blue ice. Thick spikes with razor points extended from her fingers.

"If you truly believe you are a monster, then die as one!" Ansel shouted.

He lunged forward with his broadsword held in an overhead strike.

Elsa raised her claw arm and knocked it away. He sliced diagonally. She jabbed forward, cutting the loops in his leather armor. He stepped back and thrust forward. She side-stepped.

They began a dance of glancing blows and clanging metal. Though her focus was inhuman, she only managed to make a few nicks in his flesh.

Ansel aimed the sword at her shoulder. Elsa caught the blade in her iced hand. She glared at him. Ansel twisted his sword, only chipping off flakes of ice. Elsa shoved him back. He staggered against the wall.

"I have broken swords stronger than yours with my magic," Elsa said. She started forward.

"I am not yet broken, cold-hearted witch."

Elsa raised her eyebrows. "Cold-hearted? Do you know that phrase's true meaning?"

She raised her hands above her head, summoning a swirl of white ice particles.

"It means to suffer undue torture as your hair turns white, your muscles ache. You cannot move or speak without turning numb and slow. And finally your body betrays you. It freezes into solid unbreakable ice. Forever. I know this because I did it to my own sister."

Ansel hissed. "You are a monster."

"And you will know what it is to have a frozen heart!" She thrust forward. Jagged shards of pure white anger flew forward. Ansel shielded his eyes.

Nothing had happened.

"What?" Elsa growled. Ansel stood laughing.

"Foolish child. Do you think I go unprepared?" He yanked his collar down. Underneath his leather armor was a chest plate of slate gray metal.

"Pyramite," Elsa whispered.

"I made my fortune because I prepared for every possible scenario before my opponent," Ansel said. "I figured out how to exploit every weakness, no matter the cost. So when I found out Corona had a substance incapable of freezing, I bought the whole stock."

Elsa stabbed her iced hand. His armor may have been frost proof but it wasn't unpiercable. The spikes on her knuckles shattered, tinkling to the floor.

Ansel backhanded her. She fell across the throne. Her lip dribbled warmth as Ansel laughed.

Elsa flicked out her wrist. A razor-sharp icicle formed over her head. She sent it sailing. Before it covered half the distance, the icicle diminished to half its size. By the time it crossed the room, it became a collection of droplets.

"I will not let you take over my kingdom," Elsa said, gasping for air.

"I'm not sure you have much choice." Ansel approached. "If you want to surrender it to me, we can make this much easier-"

Elsa's pale blue eyes stabbed into his. "NEVER!"

She leapt forward, hands raised. Ansel stepped back, startled. She jumped on him, wrapping her legs. Her flesh hissed and steamed each time she touched the pyramite, making her scream. But she crawled up and took hold of his neck.

"No pyramite here," she whispered into his ear.

Ansel flailed, but failed to grab her. He backed up and slammed her against the wall. She grunted, but didn't lose grip. He tried again. After the second time, he couldn't catch his breath. She wasn't choking him--her hands weren't squeezing tight enough--but he couldn't breathe.

"In case you're wondering, I'm freezing your breath before it can get into your lungs," she said. "Should be more effective than strangulation."

Ansel's eyes popped out of his head. He gagged and drooled as his hands gnarled, failing to pry away her tiny fingers. It was as if she'd frozen them to his flesh. His throat felt the width of a twig.

"Elsa, stop!"

Ariel stood in the doorway, holding her trident.

"Let him go. For god's sake, Elsa!" she said.

Elsa glowered at her. "If I don't, will you blast me?"

"I will if I have to," Ariel said. "Don't kill him, please."

"The scum deserves to die."

"But you're more compassionate than that. I know you. Please, Elsa, I don't want to have to shoot you."

"And you won't." Elsa shifted her piercing gaze above Ariel's head.

Ariel looked up. A gigantic icicle hung above her, connected to the ceiling by a trembling thread of ice. Without Elsa's will, it would crush her. She could never move out of the way fast enough.

Elsa said "Now you turn around and go tell the people that their queen has retaken the throne. Tell all those disloyal to the crown that-AGGH"

Suddenly, yellow cloth wrapped around her eyes. No, not cloth. Hair.

"Flower-gleam-and-glow-let-your-power-shine," Rapunzel sang as loud and strong as ever.

Whether from the intensity of her desire or her voice, the hair blazed bright as the sun. Elsa screamed as the light penetrated her eyelids.

She dropped off Ansel and clutched at the wrap. But it was too tight, too many fibers to pull away. The warmth and heat made her head swim.

Rapunzel yanked the swath of hair away. Elsa dropped to her knees, palms to her eyeballs as if keeping them from falling out.

Ariel grabbed Ansel by his shoulders and threw him into the hallway. Rapunzel followed them out of the throne room.

"Lock it! Lock it!" Ariel said.

Rapunzel pulled the doors shut and locked it with the key Anna had given her. Ariel grabbed a small table and slid its legs through the door handles.

"I hope that does it," Ariel said. She wiped her brow.

"Just until we can get back to her," Rapunzel said.

Ansel was kneeling on the ground, coughing and massaging his throat.

Ariel yanked him upright. She thrust the trident up to his chin. He had to lift his neck to avoid being punctured.

"You," Rapunzel said, pointing her frying pan at him, "are so fired."

Rapunzel entered the grand hall toting Ansel on a rope, like a zookeeper with an escaped gorilla. Ariel marched in back, trident poised and ready for trouble.

Anna and Kristoff stood near the doors, where they had agreed to wait. Kristoff grinned and clapped his gloved hands.

"We got him," Rapunzel replied.

"Hm, someone trying to weasel his way onto the throne being led out of the palace in handcuffs. Why does this look so familiar?" Kristoff mocked.

"Did you find Elsa?" Anna asked.

"We did," Ariel said. "She's in the throne room still. She went..." Ariel paused to think of the right words.

"She got a little intense," Rapunzel finished. "She just needs time to cool off. Or heat up. Whichever."

Anna looked a little surprised, but not upset.

Ariel leaned into Rapunzel's ear. "She's not blinded, is she?"

"No, it'll fade," she whispered back.

Flynn slipped in through the doors. "There's a mob at the gates. Looks like the whole town is there."

"They must have come running once they heard about the battle," Kristoff said. "Are they angry?"

"I don't know. Once word spread that we'd broken through, the guards stopped guarding, the soldiers left their posts. I think everyone's waiting to see who won."

"Well, let's show them," Anna grinned.

She led the way, strutting across the carpet. Rapunzel and Ariel dragged the Ansel behind. Flynn and Kristoff gleefully opened the doors for them.

Applause rose to a clamor as Anna appeared. Even louder once Rapunzel showed up with prisoner in tow.

Anna approached the podium once used for Ansel's rousing propaganda speeches. Many minutes passed before it was quiet enough.

"Citizens, the true rulers of Arendelle have returned."

More applause. It took as long for them to return to silence.

"We have driven out Lord Protector Ansel and his private counsel. He came here in a time of need under the pretense of safety, but that time has passed. So thank you, Princess Rapunzel..." Anna half-turned to address her cousin, "for the gift of your navy and its commander. But I don't think we'll be needing it anymore."

The crowd's chorus indicated they wanted Rapunzel to take the stand. Anna stepped aside, grinning. Rapunzel wasn't ready for this.

"Anna, you're welcome," Rapunzel said. "I'll be pleased to take him back to Corona and deal with him there. And with the royal family back in control, I'm looking forward to seeing the kingdom back to normal."

Amid the crowd's white noise, someone yelled "Rapunzel, Queen of Arendelle!"

That catalyzed the biggest reaction of all. The crowd whooped and hollered like a multi-headed beast with one brain. Noise rose into such upsurge, no one on stage could hear themselves.

Rapunzel looked to Anna. She had no reaction, except a slight smile. Maybe she was resigned, even pleased. She glanced at Rapunzel and gave a slight shrug, as if to say "it's your choice"

And this was the time to make it. There had been enough time to consider and the people demanded an answer. The queen was questionably fit for office. The princess was abdicating the throne. And the placeholder regime had been toppled. It was a nexus of change, and everyone, even their friends, wanted to know what was next. Rapunzel leaned into the podium.

Elsa stirred. Had she lost consciousness? Did the bright light shock her into swooning? It was so hard to tell with her head full of mashed thoughts. She knew she hadn't been out long. Not more than a few minutes.

When she opened her eyes, the blue of the throne room returned to her. But no one was there. Elsa struggled to her feet and tried the door. It didn't budge.

Locked? They locked her in her own throne room? Why? She had Ansel on his knees. And they took her victory from her. Why? They wanted it for themselves?

Of course they did. They wanted the whole kingdom for themselves. The credit, the glory. The people's love. The love she could never get.

All of them usurpers. They wanted her locked away again. Like she had been her whole life. To suppress her magnificence and terror. No longer. Not ever again. She grabbed both door handles.

The cold channeled down her arms to her fingers. Frost caked the knobs. The brass squeaked in pain. She sharply twisted each knob.

Inside, pieces of the locking apparatus shattered. She broke the metal handle off with a clink and the doors yielded.

No one outside the hall. She headed up the stairs towards the main doors. The castle was as empty as when she entered. If anyone crossed her path she would have frozen them to their soul, but no one did.

No one in the main hall either. But through the door, the crowd chanted. "Rapunzel! Rapunzel! Rapun-zel!"

So it was her. All because the people loved her better. Better than Anna. Better than their own queen. The queen who had spent all her life preparing to serve them, even with the impairment of her curse.

Elsa pressed her eye to the door. The blonde was about to make her acceptance speech. And a perfect time too, in the cusp of upheaval. Some cousin. She should have seen the signs from the beginning. Elsa formed a long, smooth icicle in her hand, contoured to the shape of a dagger.

The chanting continued. Rapunzel held up her hands. "Stop. Stop. Stop, please," she announced. The crowd quieted. Here would be her decision. Her "crowning moment"

"I love you all very much," Rapunzel said. "I love Arendelle. It's like my sister country. I've formed bonds here that go beyond family. But I cannot be your queen. It's true that I want to. I want to live here. I love spending time with my cousins. I love being with you all. But this is not my kingdom to rule. It belongs to them."

Rapunzel hadn't even known what she would say before she said it. She had fought for the kingdom. She had earned the right to be its queen. But it took the spontaneous act of speaking to realize what was in her heart. As much as she might want the job, and as good as she was at it, it wasn't hers to take.

The crowd responded with mild, dignified applause--a mix of disappointment and dignity. Rapunzel stepped back from the podium and took a deep breath. Her eyes watered. She looked back at Flynn, who gave her his signature cocky grin and a thumbs up. Kristoff nodded and clapped his mittens. She turned to Anna, who hugged her about the shoulders.

They turned to the sound of a squeaking cry. Behind them, Elsa dropped to her knees in the doorway. In her hand was a long icicle, the perfect shape to stab a person. She let it roll out, where it melted.

"Elsa?" Anna said.

Elsa's eyes dilated. Her chest heaved up and down as the sobs took hold. The arctic eyes with pinprick dots transformed with the rolling tears. Her normal blue eyes with wide pupils returned, as did the lighter violet highlights. Her hair color softened to its ivory hue. And her dress's accoutrements fizzled into white mist.

Anna kneeled before her. Rapunzel followed, doing the same. "Elsa?" she asked. "Are you...?"

"I'm sorry," Elsa said. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so..."

Anna and Rapunzel embraced her. Elsa bawled, letting all her rage and sadness go. Chunks of the ice around her heart melted, causing such an overflow.

Ariel handed Ansel off to a loyal guard. She dropped her trident and joined the hug from behind. Flynn and Kristoff followed too.

"Hey, what are you guys doing without me?" Olaf toddled onto the stage. "I talk about warm hugs over and over, and the one time..."

Rapunzel, as teary-eyed as Elsa, reached out her arm with a come-here motion. The snowman pressed himself in. No one even felt his cold skin. The warmth from their family reunited overcame all.

#Elsa #Rapunzel #Ariel #The Little Mermaid #Frozen #Tangled #fanfic #fan fic #fanfiction #fan fiction #Disney #princess #Disneyprincess #Reprise #crossover

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