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lovebugism · 8 months

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grinding against virgin!eddie cock until he cums. skin to skin.

i love a good sinful request hahah hope you like it angel! — the one where you ride eddie for the first time (new-ish relationship, l-bomb, smut 18+, 1.6k)

bug's summer fic fest ♡

A summer breeze billows through an opened window. The evening air cools your burning, bare skin when it kisses your sweat-slicked bodies. It feels almost like silk. Nowhere near as soft as you are.

Eddie sits on the edge of his bed while you ride him. You’re made exactly of velvet and honey as you roll your hips in rhythmic motions over his thighs. Your warm cunt sucks him impossibly further in and in and in.

The slick drooling from your pulsating walls drenches his aching cock and the bushy thatch of pubic hair below it. You grow somehow tighter every time your sensitive clit drags across the coarse patch of his happy trail. You tilt your head back and exhale a gentle moan at the ceiling — as pretty as a wolf howling at the moon.

Eddie so desperately wants to kiss the newly displayed skin of your neck. His lips ache to suckle at the tendons you bear to him, to find your racing pulse point and bite you softly there. He might’ve — if only he could tear his eyes away from you for a fraction of a second.

This isn’t the first time he’s fucked you, but it’s the first time you’ve been on top of him like this.

His chest swells with the same burning pleasure you gave him the first time he slipped inside you. His cock is equally as sensitive, though maybe more so with the newfound sensation of the steady rise and fall of your velvety cunt.

His hands are still as unsure of themselves. They fidget with the urge to hug you tightly to him, though he's distantly fearful of touching such art at the same time.

You notice it rather quickly — the way his fingers idle on the outsides of your knee in a featherlight touch.

You can tell he wants to touch you, that he just doesn’t know how to.

He’s still scared of making the wrong move with you, still feeling the need to impress you in some way. Unsure of how he got you in the first place, he’s worried his inadequacy will ultimately lead to his heartache.

“You don’t have to be afraid to touch me, Eds,” you tell him, breathless, as you sink down to the base of his cock.

You still and linger there, exhaling a gentle moan from your nose at the combined feeling of him twitching inside you and your delicate button rolling across his lap.

Eddie feels close to exploding, both at how good you feel and how overwhelmed you’re making him.

Your trembling hands rise from his shoulders to cup his jaw. Your thumb swipes over his flushed skin as you force him to keep his eyes on you.

Your heavy-lidded stare pierces somewhere deep in his soul, a bolt of blue lightning he can feel down to his sensitive, bulbous head.

He wants to move, but his brain short circuits. You’ve effectively paralyzed him, it seems.

“C’mon…” you lilt when you notice him hesitating. A wavering smile quirks the edges of your swollen, kiss-bitten mouth.

Even though you’re not moving, you’re still suffocated by your own pleasure. He’s reaching a whole different angle inside you with this new position you’re in. You have no choice but to feel him everywhere.

“Touch me, Eddie… Need to feel you…”

Eddie’s never denied you of anything before. He’d be an idiot to start now.

With uncertain hands, he reaches for your waist. His palms are wide and warm as they settle there, pale palms smoothing over your skin and holding firmly at the soft pudge on your sides.

Even with his stern grip, his touch is not the least bit directing of you. His hands are obediently still — all-consuming with the love he holds within them.

The feeling of him in such an innocent way makes you sigh a pretty moan.

A pathetic whine sounds from Eddie’s throat when your velvet walls clench around him. He doesn’t have too long now — not with how intently you’re gripping his sensitive cock.

He grits his teeth and leans his head his back, squeezing his eyes shut as he tries to fend off his inevitable orgasm.

It’s damn near impossible, he finds. He can feel you everywhere.

You’re on his dick and drenching his lap. Your damp skin presses against his, the slick between you all but adhering you to him. Your hands feel like slinking vines as they leave his jaw to curl into his hair. Your fingers twist in the sweaty tendrils at the back of his neck.

He feels the lightning strike of your touch in a tingle that shoots down his spine. Or perhaps it’s the growing need to fill you with everything he’s got to give.

Now, you’re the one that can’t stop looking at him.

His lips are pinker than usual with how keenly you’ve kissed them. The color pairs so nicely with the red splotching his pale skin — the apples of his cheeks, his jaw, the bottom of his neck, and the top of his chest.

You get too easily distracted by how pretty he is to worry about your own pleasure.

Your clit swells with every pass over his lap, but you can only think about making him feel good. You don’t want him to stop making such pretty little noises for you.

You want to hear him moan for you when he comes. You want to feel him shake like a leaf beneath you when you keep riding him through his high. You want to hear him beg you to stop when he gets too sensitive to function properly.

Surely, that isn’t too much to ask.

You need Eddie to come more than you need it for yourself.

With a knowing smirk hinting at the edges of your lip, you roll your hips over his thighs once more and clench tighter around him. A soft sigh spills from your mouth at the feeling of his cock quivering within your delicate walls.

Your smile grows when it makes Eddie moan, though it sounds more like a feeble sob in his chest.

“Doing so good for me, Eds,” you whisper as you drag your hips back again. You bring them forward a moment later, not stilling until your stomach is pressed against the soft pudge of his. “Making me feel so good.”

“Don’t talk like that,” he pleads through gritted teeth.

“Why?” you wonder with a breathless giggle.

“‘Cause it’s gonna make me come…”

“What if I want you to?”

His closed eyes squeeze further shut as a whine sounds in his throat, muffled through his clenched jaw.

Your hips fall slowly over his thighs again at a pace as steady as it is slow. They come forward again, unrushed and undemanding. The way you still and clench around him is obviously measured. It pushes him closer to the edge.

“You’re always so pretty for me when you come,” you confess, voice wavering as your own orgasm creeps up your spine. “Always makes me come so hard…”

Eddie whines again, louder this time, as he buries his face in your shoulder. He seeks solace there, with his nose smushed against your damp skin. He hides his moans there, too.

Your pace quickens over his lap, and he groans into your neck. Spurred on by his pretty sounds and his hands rising up your back, you keen and wrap your arms around his neck.

The two of you hug each other in a rather sinful embrace.

You bury your nose into his wild curls and push through the burning orange embers simmering in your clit and the pit of your stomach.

Eddie holds you tightly against him while his cock trembles relentlessly inside your satin walls, like he’s drowning in an ocean of pleasure and you’re the only thing keeping him afloat.

That’s what it feels like, anyway.

That’s what it feels like to be with you, too — in ways more innocent than this wicked one.

He’s too often lost, too innocent in his way. Still stuck in his boyhood, he rarely ever feels good enough — for life, for you.

He gravitates to you like a focal point, a reminder that he’s still alive when he feels like life is strangling him.

He doesn’t deserve you.

He doesn’t deserve to feel as good as you make him feel.

His chest swells with the very thought. It’s an empty, wet feeling that makes him feel like he might cry. And, god, what an idiot he’d be to get all emotional the first time his girlfriend rides him.

He can’t help it, though. He’s a lucky schmuck who managed to woo you into his bed — he’s owed a small sob of victory, he figures.

“Fucking love you like this,” Eddie babbles into your neck, fueled by his impending orgasm. “Love fucking you, baby… Love you all the time... Love you so fucking much, you know that? I fucking love you.”

Even though you’re distantly shocked by his words, you don’t stop riding him. You don’t plan on stopping until he’s begging you to.

You figure he’s too pussy drunk to understand what he’s saying, to know how meaningful his words really are. But he keeps on saying them — “Love you. I love you. I love you so goddamn much—”

Maybe he’s too overwhelmed by his impending orgasm, and his brain has short-circuited accordingly. Maybe he really does love you, and it took a good fucking to finally tell you.

You’re not quite sure.

You’ll ask him about it when all this is over — when his cock is softening on his thigh and his come is seeping out of you while he holds you in his arms.

But for now, you press your cheek against his burning one and whisper in his ear. “I love you, too.”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #eddie munson #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #bug's summer fic fest!

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comicaurora · 4 months

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Hi! I finally got the chance to read Aurora a bit ago. It's a wonderful story--all I was expecting and better! I was particularly amazed and delighted by the artwork and visual mechanics used to tell the story, so I wrote a post to yell about how cool it is and break some of it down. (No criticism, just praise.) I'm mostly a hobbyist, so I'm hoping I've done it justice.

That said: zero pressure to read it or respond to this ask. Normally I wouldn't send it since I tagged, but I know Tumblr's notifs are a mess and things get lost very easily. I've been in both the "one (1) word of praise will feed me for a year" and the "oh gods don't talk about my writing/art because anything that seems Off will break my brain" modes before, and I absolutely don't want to push or make you uncomfortable!

If you are comfortable, however, I wanted to ask about your use of what I'm assuming are Screen and blending modes in sound effect words. (I'm only guessing that's the technique, though, so I could be totally wrong about how it's done! I'm mostly experienced in image manipulation in Photoshop.) Making them semi-transparent over the actions is genius :) What inspired you to do that, and are there specific techniques you use to make it work?

Same questions go for using specific colors to distinguish different characters' words and actions. I really noticed it in the cave sequence with Falst and Dainix, since their colors are so vivid in the dark (ex. Falst's little swats and Dainix's swooping kick at 1.20.9). It lends excellent clarity to busy scenes.

Thanks! Have a lovely day, enjoy your break, and happy holidays <3

You're correct about the technique! "Screen" is the blend mode I use most often for sound effects. I stumbled on it mostly through trial and error - I love how sound effects add depth to a comic panel, but it's very easy for them to obscure the art in a way I find counterproductive, so "Screen" lets me put the sound effect directly over the origin of the sound while still letting it be visible through the word. Early chapters didn't have it as much-

Most of the sound effects in early chapters are just solid colors with reduced opacity if I'm feeling fancy. But I started figuring it out around chapter 8 and 9, because Falst is kind of a sound-effect-heavy guy, especially in his fight scenes.

In order to make sure they don't impede the visibility of the action, I'll often soft-erase the top or bottom half of the SFX to reduce its opacity while still leaving it readable.

I'll usually double that up with an outline on the SFX so it's still readable. This is an especially important consideration if the SFX goes over an area of the background that's very bright or glowing.

Color-coding the speed lines and SFX to the character or force causing them isn't a hard and fast rule, but I like using it (in part because it's a habit from the OSP illustrations, where every character has a single pop of color in their lineart) mostly because it sort of codes every sound to make it clear where it's emanating from, or the general feeling of the sound. Since I normally do character-colors for SFX, something like this stands out more jarringly-

Which it's supposed to, but a big lightning strike doesn't register as anything too worrying because it's just Tess up to her usual shenanigans.

It's also very useful for magic effects, because each form of magic has its own associated palette.

And when I had a very complicated fight scene in a dark environment, I used the texture pattern I'd already made for the monster to color its SFX, so when I Screened them onto the panels they didn't obscure too much while still communicating "this is something else."

Changing the weight, lined-vs-not-lined, and opacity of the SFX words also helps to communicate that not every sound has the same feeling. A strong motion is solid and aggressive, but a crackling, unstable sound is more ephemeral and staticky.

It's definitely been a process of learning as I go - looking back at the earlier chapters I can actually see when I first tried various tricks I now use regularly, like doubling and distorting an SFX to produce the effect of a camera-shaking impact. I haven't really seen any other comics that do it like I do, probably because most other comics follow a more traditional production pipeline where text bubbles and sound effects get locked into the composition early, before the inking stage, because traditional physical comics don't have digital-art layers to play with. Adding sound effects to a page is almost the last thing I do before exporting them, and that only works because digital art and layers allow for a ton of flexibility.

#asks #aurora #art stuff

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picturesofthegoneworlds · 3 months

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Preview for Intertwined - Chapter 16

Imogen’s head is still in Laudna’s lap.

Still, asleep now, brow unfurrowed - Laudna wasn’t prepared for it.

The birds that would usually rouse her continue their morning chorus, Imogen’s rest undisturbed by their melodic chatter

sometimes less melodious, more obnoxious squawks

Laudna scowls at the offender.

She daren’t move – thought she would find that easier, the gargoyle she can be

Perhaps she’s too inexperienced there - never had a home long enough to shield from the erosion of water

Raindrops in Imogen's eyelashes, Laudna dancing in the middle of the muddying path as her skirts fan around her, Imogen stepping forward with a bow and a presentation of her extended hand-

Her skirts wrinkle under Imogen as if they could be soft enough to be her pillow, yards of moth-eaten linen and fraying lace. The loose lilac curls that comprise Imogen's hair fall rather pleasingly over the sun-bleached black background-

She almost allows herself that - until she rationalises that it is just about the contrast - the backdrop of harsh angles of dark fabric cut by shadow-bone-landscape, the dismal soot mountains only emphasizing the beautiful oddity that is hair naturally coloured like wildflowers in a land surely infertile, inhospitable

freckles and dimples and peach fuzz

hands marked by lightning

odd and wondrous, definitely.

(with Imogen she serves to juxtapose, and she is ok with that.)

The daylight reaches to touch them through the canopy

If the golden hour is in the evening, then the morning must be bronze.

Imogen’s skin looks so soft

(Laudna knows it is).

“Y’don’t have to make it weird, you can touch it.”

That is what she said; dream-Imogen resting casually against the side of her family’s cart

Weird

Laudna’s not obliged, no - but she does like it.

Weird. Odd.

She was that before all of this

some-thing further than it now.

some thing

some

thing

(the birds sing)

Imogen accepts weird, surely - sees herself as it too, maybe…

A pair of gloves. A set of ear cuffs.

Laudna isn’t oblivious (she’s too observational - though admittedly easily distracted).

daydreamer

(Imogen's freckles are at their most dense on the tip of her nose, the swell of her cheeks, and on her chin.)

If this were one of the books she read-

If the dream-

Well.

For a start; she wouldn’t be undead.

butcher’s cart a bouquet of limbs

strings on a marionette

Imogen's knee between her legs

awfully forward - must be taut - the strings that were pulled. Convincing - how Laudna’s own body was numb to herself exercising The Touch. Familiar - how Imogen’s insides were abyssal black.

A pair of gloves. A set of ear cuffs.

In that space they both bleed the same.

If The Dream were a book she would have kissed her. Maybe. Maybe Imogen would have asked.

But it isn’t.

It isn’t a book

(the birds sing)

Out of it.

Imogen’s head is in her lap.

They are out of it. Here.

(maybe Imogen is in it?)

(Hello? Would you like the room one-floor up on the west or adjoining the kitchens on the ground?)

Out of The Dream her laugh bubbled under her hands like the cauldron brought to boil

Like Laudna could be a flame

And her every little fair hair stood on end; frightened cat sheared to wear skin like its kill, a plucked pheasant hanging by nail from the rafters- the low rafters in the old dwarven woman’s house, abdominal muscles spasm under fingertip Imogen cursing under her breath at repaired crockery and maybe Laudna’s hands and the downpour that finally came after months of waiting the roof was fixed they danced in the mud and they stayed there so long Laudna could write about it could illustrate it too on all of the leaf mulch dried on racks and pressed into parchment and Laudna could ask her to stay there forever with her, despite time and how it moves-

But this isn’t a book.

Not a novel, not a dream.

She isn’t even a gargoyle

Redirecting the waters

Imogen had stretched the tarpaulin over their heads

Laudna moves with her, scene hanging - her backdrop, her shadow.

(the birds sing)

She is ok with that (so long as they stay together)

(you can read the previous chapters here)

#Imodna #Imogen Temult #Laudna #Critical Role #Bells Hells #Fanfic #Emma writes #WIP #Happy Thursday #It's been a whiiiile

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ponder-the-orb · 15 days

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Moonlit Quiet

Pairing: Dame Aylin x Isobel Thorm

Tags: Hurt/Comfort/Fluff, Spoilers for Act 2

Word count: 3K

Summary:

“I never thought I’d do this again,” Isobel admits after a moment, tugging at the heavy neck of Aylin’s mail. “I think I’ve forgotten just how many pieces there are.”

Aylin laughs and she sits back, pulling the chain shirt over her head as if it were made of cotton. “Take all the time you need. We have so much of it now.”

Time. There was supposed to be near enough an eternity of it before.

She cups Aylin’s cheeks, makes a memory of how she melts just that little bit into her touch.

They’d whispered such promises between these very walls so many times, enough that the weight of Isobel’s own mortality seemed to flit further away with every kiss.

What force could possibly break them apart? Fight past Selûne's own sword and shatter this happiness?

Bile rises in Isobel’s throat, her fingers firm against Aylin's face as she presses their foreheads together. It’s another familiar gesture, the touch so delicate but the words behind it clear.

Nothing will take you from me again.

AKA: Aylin and Isobel take some time to themselves following Ketheric's death.

Read on AO3 or below

***

It’s been over a century since Isobel has seen Moonrise Towers bathed in the light of its namesake. Longer still since she’s set foot in this bedroom – her bedroom.

It’s not a space she ever imagined seeing again, but she’d found her hand on the doorknob before she’d realised she'd climbed to the top of the tower. An old instinct she’d presumed. Either that or she’d just been desperate for some – any – form of home comfort in the aftermath of such a battle.

She chooses not to dwell on how it remains just as she left it: sheets rumpled, hearth warmed, her own cleric robes pressed and hanging on the back of the wardrobe- just as any other evening.

Kicking off her boots by the window, she can almost pretend it is just any other evening. Her father could be working below, stern but happy in his way, and she could retire from her daily rituals ready for an altogether different sort of ritual atop her sheets.

She smiles as she hears the old but familiar thump of someone landing against her mattress.

Her darling. Her angel.

It’s almost dizzying how normal a sight it is. The Dame Aylin on her bed, battle-mussed and resplendent in her full armoured regalia. She glows a gentler silver now, like Isobel’s own slice of moonlight waiting against her pillows.

For once, she’s silent, but the blazing promise in her eyes speaks volumes.

Want. Need. Impatience. So much that even decades of death can’t stop the way Isobel’s knees weaken at the sight.

She hurriedly shutters every window until the room is solely lit by Aylin’s glow. Under any other circumstances, she’d leave them wide open. She’d always like to sleep under the watchful light of Selûne and for the first time in years she can feel her Lady’s caress reaching across the land. It’s another old familiarity, one she loves– but tonight requires privacy.

She undresses Aylin with practised care. The sword finds a new home against the carpet, sheathed and quiet for now. She’ll need it again, no doubt sooner than Isobel would want, but it need not sing at this moment. Their battle is won. Plans for the rest of this war can wait.

There’s a quiet relief on Aylin’s breath as Isobel unlaces her armour. Piece by piece the silvered soldier falls to the bed, Isobel’s hands slow as they find the strength waiting underneath. She pauses as she brushes above the collar of her mail, her thumb meeting the ivory line of her throat.

She’s rooted, awed, as she feels each long breath– so real, so alive against her touch.

That first lightning bolt of shock and elation at seeing her here had fallen along with Aylin’s breastplate against the sheets. She can’t quite place where in her head she is right now, somewhere between a shaky sense of regularity and the colder fear that she’ll close her eyes too long and awaken back at Last Light. Alone, hiding and still mourning the losses she can’t tell another living soul.

Aylin’s look softens as she continues to work. They both know she could dissipate the armour with but a thought, she had so enough times when the heat between them called for it. She stays still for now, letting Isobel ground herself in the ritual, the feel of the metal, of her angel’s fingers against her. Her worship belongs to Selûne, but true devotion– that will forever be for Aylin. It’s a thought that borders on blasphemy, but it would taste a lie to deny it. There’s no careful composure or rehearsed words needed. It’s something aching, intimate– pleasure and want so desperately pressed into each other with shaking hands and parted lips.

“I never thought I’d do this again,” Isobel admits after a moment, tugging at the heavy neck of Aylin’s mail. “I think I’ve forgotten just how many pieces there are.”

Aylin laughs and she sits back, pulling the chain shirt over her head as if it were made of cotton. “Take all the time you need. We have so much of it now.”

Time. There was supposed to be near enough an eternity of it before.

She cups Aylin’s cheeks, makes a memory of how she melts just that little bit into her touch.

They’d whispered such promises between these very walls so many times, enough that the weight of Isobel’s own mortality seemed to flit further away with every kiss. What force could possibly break them apart? Fight past Selûne's own sword and shatter this happiness ?

Bile rises in Isobel’s throat, her fingers firm against Aylin's face as she presses their foreheads together. It’s another familiar gesture, the touch so delicate but the words behind it clear.

Nothing will take you from me again.

“Yes, we do,” is what she says aloud, dipping down so their lips can finally meet.

She knows it’s the calm before the hurricane, one moment of pure unfiltered serenity before Aylin’s composure snaps. Her mouth opens, gasp hot as she pulls Isobel into her lap.

“Oh my darling, my fearless Isobel,” she whispers against her mouth, tugging her close with a strong arm around Isobel’s waist. “ Please let me adore you now.”

Isobel groans. She’d almost forgotten how perfect her name sounds in Aylin’s voice– the strength of a battle cry; more delicate than a prayer.

She shifts under Isobel and her lips are everywhere, her chin, her ear, her throat. Pieces of her own armour clatter to the floor as impatient hands roam over her, seeking lost skin.

It’s a task unto itself not to press her down onto the bed right now and ravish her until they’re both sweetly exhausted and sore. Gods-knows she wants to. It would be so easy to lose herself in Aylin until dawn dared intrude on them.

She squeezes the curve of Isobel’s thigh and lights burst behind her eyes.

It’s everything. It’s too much.

“ Aylin - wait.” She catches her face, slowly guiding it back to hers.

Aylin’s hands immediately still. “Does something trouble you?” Her voice is thick– those moon-bright eyes blown wide as an eclipse.

Isobel smiles. That’s a sight she remembers all too well. Her Aylin. Her perfectly besotted love.

“It is as you said. We have time,” she breathes, gathering the spill of Aylin’s hair and letting it slip between her fingers. “So please, could you let me do this?” What exactly she’s asking for she isn’t quite sure. There’s a century still hanging between them, so many moments to make up for, far far too many.

Perhaps too many for the years she has left with her.

She swallows and brushes the down of Aylin's cheek, marble to flesh.

For now, she needs to be slow. Deliberate. Relearn her love inch by beautiful inch.

She knows that Aylin will forever be Aylin: the Moonmaiden’s justice, her unwavering paladin– as regal and proud as the heavens themselves. It’s her duty to stand as such until her immortal service is finally complete, perhaps when the last vestige of Selûne's light fades into that final night. But for now, she’s battled enough. It’s finally Aylin’s time to be savoured – and Isobel knows she’s more ready to take on that duty.

She brushes the peach curve of her lips, then those new golden scars fractured across her face. She pauses against the darker flecks on her jaw: blood from their new allies, from illithids, her father-

She tucks the thought away. It’s a feeling too messy for her to fully fathom right now, raw and tender as a new bruise. She quietly makes a vow to process it fully in her own time. Much much later.

He’s at rest, his poison gone and Isobel would rather throw herself into the fetid pit under this tower than let him snatch the joy from this night as well.

She can’t hide her gasp as she pulls Aylin’s undershirt from her body. Wider, deeper scars splinter over the firm muscles of her torso and finish in a jagged patch over her heart.

Once, such marks were almost a comfort to Isobel, a shining reminder of every battle won and every chip she’d taken to come home to her. She’d never imagined it like this, the evidence of every sword and dagger and javelin plunged through her.

She cups her hand to Aylin’s breast, the gold fully eclipsing each finger.

“Does it hurt?” she whispers.

Aylin’s expression doesn’t falter as she covers Isobel’s hand with her own. “Not anymore. Such cowardly attempts would hardly be enough to break me.”

They’re strong words, proud as every gallant decree that the world expects of an emissary such as her. And Isobel knows they’re a lie.

She can see it, beyond her stone-hard smile there are cracks, invisible and silent but no less present than those golden tracks left by battle and brutality.

Death for Isobel had been timeless, easy even. Nothing but the dreamless dark. Being ripped back into life, that had been a harder weight to bear. She’d awoken to her home now twisted with perverse Sharran magic, Selûne’slight snuffed out by the haunted visage of her own father. ‘ For love. For our family,’ he’d said, flat and chilled as a wall. And in the same breath, he’d revealed the worst of it: Aylin too was gone. Nothing mortal or immortal to ever bring her back.

It her own spear through the heart, but what was that in comparison a century caged, a century alone and shadowed, broken again and again and again until the might and wrath of a goddess was belittled down to naught but a tool.

Isobel’s vision pools with red.

She tries to ground herself in the drum of Aylin’s heart, forever steady as the rocking tide, but she sees her own trembling fingers betray her.

Aylin tips her chin up with her thumb. “There is something else. Tell me.”

Isobel refuses to meet her eye.

“All this time- all this time you were so close,” she whispers shakily. “I should have known. I could have found you.”

Aylin shakes her head and strokes the length of her back. “None of that.”

The touch does nothing to quell her anger. “I’m a fighter too. I may not be any sort of divine Paladin, but I could have done something instead of hiding at Last Light.” She drops her head to Aylin’s shoulder as if she could muffle the guilt of her words in the broad muscle. “If it were me down there, you would have razed that vile temple to the ground, brick by brick, until you freed me. I was not even there when your cage was broken.”

There’s a long moment of quiet before the hand at Isobel’s back slides up to cradle her neck.

“You are indeed most ferocious,” Aylin says, her voice soft with fondness. “Before, I’d never laid eyes on anyone so in tune with my Mother’s power. It was the most remarkable sight to behold. And from what I understand, you were doing precisely what was needed of you at that Inn. You protected our allies, strengthened them so they could destroy this tower’s forces and the powers so wicked that laid beneath. Without you, they would have all been destroyed by the shadows that ruined this land.” She tilts Isobel’s head slightly, letting each word brush against the point of her ear. “ That is why I am free.”

Isobel shifts into the touch, lets the soft rain of her lover’s words unravel the tension inside her.

She’s free, Aylin is here and she’s free.

She focuses on the thought. How it happened and who found her are facts she’ll need to let go of one day. She’s with her, solid and soft and oh so strong against her palms and that is the only thing that could possibly matter.

Aylin guides her face back with warm hands. Her intention is clear as she drops her eyes to Isobel’s mouth, the conversation probably over in her view.

She halts Aylin’s kiss with a finger to her lips.

There’s something else, one last weight she must unburden from herself before they can finally take that first step in moving forward.

She touches her own chest, rubbing the spot over her heart. “A hundred years, Aylin. It’s a lifetime to most, even to me. I may scarcely remember being dead, but I know I came back changed. Wrong.” From the moment she’d jerked awake in her tomb, she’d felt it– something bitter and cold resting inside her.

Aylin pulls back, eyes wide. “Did that foul necromancer hurt you?”

“No, no, my love,” she answers, running her hands across Aylin’s shoulders until the fire in her gaze quietens a little. “Whatever brought me back and healed my body was unnatural to say the least. I think some part of me knows I shouldn’t be here.” Even now she knows it. Under the joy and shock and wonder there’s still a seed planted deep in her chest, rotting.

A large part of her wishes that was the only thing changed in her.

She takes another breath. “That’s not all. After I ran from my Father, I had to fight, to harden against it all, become a warrior against people I’d once held dear. If… if I’m completely truthful, I think the person you truly knew remains in the crypt I was pulled from.”

Aylin tilts her head, an eyebrow raised. “And you believe that will eventually turn my heart from you? Or do you think that my time caged has changed my own feelings?”

Isobel bites her lip, fighting the urge to look away. “Honestly? I don’t know.”

“I do.” Aylin’s hands trail down Isobel’s body, her eyes following. “To many an immortal, a century seems so little. It’s nothing but the blink of an eye in the face of eternal life. For me however– it was the first instance where I truly understood the weight of time. Every second that I felt Ketheric’s wicked connection or looked up at generation after generation of craven Sharrans was its own eternity in that cage. Yet, as is my duty, I swore to never show my cracks.”

Her hands continue their gentle path as she speaks, slipping under Isobel’s shirt and pausing at the dip of her waist. “I am my Mother’s sword, her glory– but it was not her power that kept me steady in the Shadowfell. It was my memories of you, my love.”

Warmth blooms like a blush under Aylin’s hands, her thumb caressing just under Isobel’s naval. She strokes her neck, waiting for those pale eyes to meet hers. “Even though you thought me dead?” she whispers.

Aylin’s smile softens. “Even then.”

Her thumb moves slightly lower, dipping just under the loose band of Isobel’s trousers. It’s a promise and a reassurance.

I’ve got you. I want you.

Aylin kisses her chin as she continues. “And yes, you are changed just as I am, but did you think I would not recognise that voice, that love in your eyes as clear as our Lady’s light the moment I saw you again?”

Isobel’s answering smile threatens to split her cheeks, the last of her doubts disappearing into the fading curse just beyond. She kisses her forehead. Their noses brush. “Perhaps I just wanted to hear you say it,” she murmurs, shifting up so she can unlace the final armoured pieces on Aylin’s legs. She rises to help her, her fingers never leaving her bare skin as she works. It’s the only protection she’ll need for now.

“Then I will say it as many times as you need. Until the stars burn out, until this tower crumbles to dust around us– let it be the last thing I ever utter in the light of this world.” She presses her words across Isobel’s face, gentle as moonlight, steadfast as an oath as she finally lands on her lips. “My love most high. My Isobel.”

“Aylin,” she gasps against her mouth. It’s the only words her kiss-drunk mind can find as she pulls her impossibly closer, the world blurring in gold and pink around her.

It’s such a simple truth: loving Aylin will forever be the easiest thing she’ll do. Easier than loving herself, than her purpose, than her goddess. A century passed and that want hasn’t quietened, not even slightly. She’d wept, cursed, grieved for Aylin and a single kiss had her falling again, more desperate for her touch than her next breath.

“For the world to see, Dame Aylin shall forever be indomitable,” Aylin hums, slowing their kiss to lace their fingers together, “but so too is this.”

She presses one last, achingly gentle kiss to Isobel’s lips before ripping her shirt over her head. Her breath catches in her throat as Aylin twists them, pushing her into the mattress and caging her there with her torso. She swallows Isobel’s gasp as her lips drop to her chest, the heel of Aylin’s hand grinding between her legs with a warm familiar rhythm.

“Now, time enough has been wasted,” she mouths over her breast, the words rippling down to her beating heart. “It is as I said, I have a darling to adore.”

Everything else melts away after that.

It’s an ungraceful mess of hands and hearts. Words of love and gratitude spill against scars and skin as they finally find themselves within each other again.

Come morning, they will have to face the future. There are allies to bury, secrets to share, the road to Baldur’s Gate twisting and dark in front of them– but for now, between these silver-bathed walls, their world is nothing but the two of them.

As close to heaven as either of them will ever need.

***

These two have taken up waaaay too much brain space over the last couple of weeks so have something soft.

#aylin x isobel #dame aylin #isobel thorm #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #my writing #bg3 fic #moon lesbians #I just love them your honour #moonangel

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aprocessionofthoughts · 7 months

Text

All the Little Aches

ai-less whumptober 2023 day 16- chronic pain fandom- Danny phantom TW- chronic pain summary- The portal leaves him with more negative consequences than just killing him

ao3 ailesswhumptober masterlist part 2 of DA

Danny rubbed his left hand. It ached.

He could only be glad he was right handed because he still had several more class periods where he would be expected to take notes.

Sam and Tucker were good about giving him their notes when he needed it.

But he didn’t want to need it.

It had been three months already. Why wasn’t he getting better? Why wasn’t the pain going away?

His hand pulsed in pain again, and Danny winced as the pain shot through his arm and his back. His whole left side felt tingly like it had fallen asleep.

He just had to get through the school day and hope there weren’t any big ghost fights. He just wanted to lay in bed and try to ignore everything.

If only his stupid ghost half didn’t make taking pain medication impossible.

If he could just have a couple days where it didn’t hurt, or feel tingly, or numb…

Then his ghost sense went off.

He dropped his head onto his desk and groaned.

Danny stood. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

“Mr. Fenton wait just a–”

Danny let the door close and made his way to an empty hallway before transforming and flying off.

He grimaced. The pain was always worse in this form, his lichtenberg scars feeling like they were on fire, but thankfully not glowing through the suit like when he had a seizure. He had thankfully not seen Johnny since that incident.

“Beware!”

Oh, thank all the Ancients! It was just Boxy.

“Hey! Boxy! Over here!” Danny said, stopping over the park.

The Box Ghost floated out of a recycling bin. “I am the Box Ghost! Beware.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever. I get it, you’re the recycling ghost.”

“No. I am the Box Ghost! Beware!”

The pain in Danny’s shoulder flared again and he grimaced. “Look, I can’t really do this whole thing right now. So why don’t you go ahead and just stay still so I can put you in soup time?”

Danny had just gotten the thermos out when a beam of energy blessed him in the shoulder and crashed to the pavement.

“You aren’t getting away this time, ghost boy!”

Danny picked himself up from the pavement. “Look, Red, can we reschedule? I’m really not feeling up to this today.” He dodged a pink blast meant for his head. “I guess that’s a no then.” He turned around. Aaaaand of course the Box Ghost got away.

He flew up, dodging blasts and flying towards Valerie.

They grappled as Danny tried to get her newest weapon away from her, and as she tried to end him.

He had finally gotten ahold of the weapon and landed on a roof. He was just about to phase it into the roof when his left hand spasmed and pain shot through his whole left side. The gun dropped from his fingers and Danny gritted his teeth waiting for the pain to ebb.

He didn’t realize he had closed his eyes till he heard a familiar blaster power up. He sucked in a breath and opened his eyes. And oh. He had apparently also fallen on his knees. That was probably going to hurt later.

His eyes were watery as he looked up at Valerie.

She wasn't firing. Why hadn’t she fired? I mean, don’t get him wrong. He was grateful to still be among the mostly alive. But she had had plenty of opportunity to shoot him.

“What’s wrong, Red? Run out of ammo?” And okay, that came out wobblier than he would have liked.. He probably shouldn’t have said anything.

“What’s wrong with you?”

Danny raised an eyebrow. “Apart from being a ghost?”

“Why’s your arm glowing like that? A new power?”

Danny glanced down at his arm. Ah shoot, two times in one week. His life sucked.

“What? This old thing, it’s just cosmetics.”

Valerie glared at him. Or at least he assumed she was glaring at him. It was hard to tell with the tinted visor.

“It looks like lightning.”

Danny flinched, he couldn’t help it.

“What’s it from?”

Danny couldn’t help it. He snarled, his eyes glowing. “None of your business.”

Val had taken a step back, but her weapon was now pointed at his chest.

“Is that how you–”

“I’d watch how you finish that sentence, Valerie,” she flinched, “most ghosts would kill you for mentioning such sensitive topics. Be grateful I have more restraint.”

They stood staring at each other before Valerie lowered the gun an inch.

“Why did you drop the gun?”

“Dying doesn’t fix everything.” Danny said, turning away. “I’m going to go. Got ghostly things to do, ghostly places to be.”

He flew off, expecting a beam to hit him at any moment. When none did he turned over his shoulder to look back. Valeire was staring after him, her gun pointed at the ground.

AN: while everyone's experience with chronic pain is different, this is modeled after some of my own experiences with chronic pain

#ailesswhumptober2023 #ailesswhumptober #day 16 #chronic pain #Danny suffers from chronic pain #Valerie gray #Danny fenton #Danny phantom #danny phantom fanfiction

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agent-scotch · 5 months

Text

Kingsman Aircraft Inventory:

Helicopters:

Bell UH-1 Iroquois “Huey’

Westland Lynx UH-14A

Piasecki H-21

AgustaWestland AW101

Sikorsky UH-60 Black Hawk

Eurocopter AS365N3 Dauphin 2

Large Aircraft:

Canadair CL600-1A11 Challenger (Private jet)

Lockheed Constellation

Lockheed C-130 Hercules (Military Transport Carrier)

Hawker Siddeley Nimrod

Boeing 737

Propeller Planes:

Short SC.7 Skyvan 3 Variant 100 (Training)

Hawker Sea Fury T20 (Fighter)

Military Jets:

English Electric/BAC Lightning

Lockheed Martin F-22 Raptor

#scotch and soda || aesthetic #manners maketh man || kingsman #kingsman #kingsman secret service #kingsman golden circle #spy rp #spy

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sage-nebula · 2 years

Text

STH - Had My Ducks in a Row, Now They're Slowly Falling Out of Line

Notes: I had intended to work on Beyond Oblivion tonight, but ever since I made that post about Metal Sonic calling Tails an unworthy child the other night (and then also made a post about Tangle being a good big sis), I've been thinking about this . . . and so this ended up coming out instead. Originally it was meant to be just Tails and Tangle, but as I finished up their section Sonic's came to mind, so I couldn't resist adding that in too.

Credit for the idea that Sonic has a little unease about Tails making so many weapons goes to @chaoxfix, because that headcanon is just too perfect to pass up. Hope you don't mind that I borrowed it!

Also, this is my first time ever writing for Tangle, so I hope she sounds all right, because I love her to pieces.

Summary: Months and months ago, Neo Metal Overlord called Tails unworthy. And he knows it's stupid to keep thinking about it, but it's been living rent-free in his head ever since. [Post-Chao Races & Badnik Bases, pre-Trial By Fire]

- - -

Tails scowled at the schematic spread over his work bench, and pressed his pencil lead a little harder into the paper.

Unworthy child!

His pencil lead snapped, the crack echoing with the words in his head, and he let his forehead hit his workbench with a groan.

It had been months since that day—months since the battle of Angel Island, though after the Metal Virus pandemic it felt as though it had been so much longer. But it really hadn’t been; everything happened so quickly nowadays, one crisis right after another, that there were times when Tails felt out of breath even when he was standing still. It wasn’t all bad; he genuinely liked adventure, especially when he could help Sonic save the world. But that was the problem, wasn’t it?

He chewed the inside of his cheek, and squeezed his eyes shut.

He had helped, during the battle of Angel Island. No matter what Neo Metal Overlord said, he had helped. He crashed the ship straight into Metal Overlord—he took him down! Sonic was so proud of him. Tails couldn’t say he wanted to do it again (in fact he’d say the opposite since he’d ached for days after that, not that he’d admit it), but he would say, would insist against the nagging voice in his head, that he had helped that time. He’d helped save Angel Island, and the world.

But . . .

But then the Metal Virus pandemic happened. Sonic got infected, and Tails couldn’t help him. Oh sure, he’d come close to working out a cure. But one set of infected Chao had been all it took to sabotage his data and make him lose everything. And though he had managed to retrieve one of the Chaos Emeralds from Zomom with Amy’s help, not only had he not been the one to come up with the idea to begin with, but at the end, all he’d been able to do was cower and hope against hope that Sonic would pull through and save the day. Sonic, who had been fighting off the infection for the duration of the pandemic. Sonic, who was already at the limits of his exhaustion. Everything had fallen to him, again, and Tails had been able to do nothing to help except retrieve one lousy Emerald.

(Well, that wasn’t fair. The Emerald wasn’t lousy. The Emerald helped Sonic achieve Super form, which allowed him and Silver and Metal to save the day. That was more than Tails could say for himself.)

Sonic hadn’t held it against him, of course. Sonic never did. When Tails was too scared of lightning to pilot through a storm, or revealed that a Chaos Emerald was fake and got Sonic ejected into space in a soon-to-be exploded capsule—no matter the situation, Sonic never blamed him. For all his spiky quills, bravado and the way he could snark at their enemies, Tails knew the truth: Sonic was a softie, and way nicer than most anyone gave him credit for.

Tails lifted his head so he could fold his arms on his desk, his chin resting upon them. He laid his pencil in front of him, and gave it a light flick so it rolled up the desk, and then back down to his waiting finger. Another flick sent it rolling up again.

It wasn’t like Tails had accomplished nothing in the interim. He had found schematics to fix Omega . . . even though he couldn’t read them. And Sonic had trusted him to go raid an old Eggman base to try to find the cipher he needed so that he could read them, and that was where they found Belle. And later, when they went to help Amy and the others at White Park . . . well, Tails had gotten kidnapped by Starline and tied to a rollercoaster to emotionally blackmail Sonic. But Rouge had, too, although she’d managed to cut her ropes and free herself faster than he did. But that was all right, wasn’t it? Because then he’d helped her alert the others so they could evacuate the tourists. And though Starline had tried to grab him again, this time Tails managed to protect himself . . . through using Belle’s kicking reflex, albeit without her permission to do so.

Unworthy child!

Tails huffed a sharp sigh to try to dislodge the twist in his gut, and flicked his pencil hard enough that it zipped off the back of his workbench and tumbled down to the floor.

“Whoa, buddy! Is this a bad time?”

“Huh?” Tails sat up and twisted around in his seat, blinking in surprise as he caught sight of Tangle in the doorway of his workshop, her fingers gripping the top of the doorframe as she swung lightly inside. “Oh—no. Do you need something?”

“Nah, not really. I was just kinda bored, and in the area, so I thought I’d drop in.” As she spoke, Tangle skipped over and hopped onto a stool beside Tails’ workbench. It spun halfway around, but she caught herself on the side of the desk, and swung back around to face him. “What’cha got goin’ on?”

“Nothing much.” Tails glanced back at the schematic he’d been working on, a half-finished design for a new rocket launcher. There was no need for it, really, but there wasn’t not a need for it, either. That’s what Tails told himself, anyway, or told Sonic whenever Sonic questioned him about why he was building so many different weapons. Maybe they didn’t need rocket launchers right now, but who was to say what would come in the future? There was no telling when Eggman or Starline or whoever would attack again. It was better to have it and not need it, than need it and not have it.

Unworthy—!

“Helloooo?” Tangle waved her hand in front of his face, and Tails jumped a little, blinking as he refocused on her. “Everything okay in there? You seem a million miles away, little dude.”

“Oh—yeah! I’m okay,” Tails said, and he forced a bright smile. Tangle smiled back, but not all the way; her forehead was creased, her brows pinched in the middle. “Sorry, I was just . . . thinking.”

“About what?” Tangle asked. When he didn’t answer right away (he was never good at coming up with lies on the spot), she nudged her calf against his shoe, and gave him a cajoling smile. “C’mooon, tell me! We saved the world together, right? A couple different times! You can tell me things. I promise I’ll only beg to try out whatever cool new invention you have up your sleeve a total of three times if you tell me about it.”

Tails couldn’t help it; he cracked a smile, despite himself. “It’s not that. I—the rocket launcher’s not coming along as hot as I’d like. It’s nowhere near testing stages yet.”

Tangle’s eyes lit up. “Rocket launcher?”

Tails cast a glance askance at the schematic. Solar power was the way to go, he thought; there was an endless source of energy right there in the sky, just waiting to be used. But none of the batteries he’d built could build up a charge quickly enough, or hold enough of a charge for long enough, to be used in something like a rocket launcher. He’d been working on solar power batteries since even before Metal Sonic’s coordinated badnik attacks, and yet—

Unworthy . . . !

“Do you ever—” Tails began, then stopped. This was stupid. It was stupid to still be thinking like this. If he told Sonic—

Sonic wouldn’t say it was stupid. Sonic would never say something like that. He’s too—he’s not mean enough for that. Even if he thought it, he’d never say it.

“Do I what?” Tangle kicked her feet back against the leg of her stool, and when Tails said nothing, she swung her tail around to poke him in the head. “C’mon, don’t leave me hangin’. Finish what you were gonna say, I’m all ears.”

Tails ran a hand across the back of his hair, smoothing down the fur Tangle’s tail had tousled. “It’s nothing. It’s stupid.”

“Stupid? From you? Mr Kid Genius? I highly doubt that.” Tangle put her elbow on his workbench, and leaned her cheek into her palm. “Come on, just tell me! Whatever it is, I promise I won’t tell a soul. Cool tail buddies honor.”

It was stupid. There was no way to explain that he was letting something Neo Metal Overlord said rot in his head for months without sounding stupid. But the thing about Tangle—the thing Tails liked about Tangle—was that she was unapologetically sincere. She wasn’t afraid to be enthusiastic about things, or embarrassed even when she was clumsy and made mistakes. She said they were cool tail buddies, but Tangle herself wasn’t concerned with being cool. With being a hero, sure. But not with being cool. And she was best friends with someone who was just as much of a nerd as Tails himself was, albeit about different things. It didn’t matter that Jewel’s wardrobe consisted of nothing but pantsuits and that she unironically loved organizing. Tangle still thought she was one of the coolest people in the world.

So maybe, even though what he thought was stupid, it would be okay if he told Tangle. Maybe she wouldn’t think he was any less cool himself. And she probably meant it when she said she wouldn’t tell anyone; he hadn’t known her to ever lie before.

“Okay,” Tails said at length, and Tangle’s eyes lit up. “But I’m going to hold you to that. If you tell anyone, you’re out of the cool tail buddies club.”

Tangle put two fingers to her forehead, and popped them off in a salute. “Yessir! So, what’s got your tails all twisted? In the bad way, I mean.”

“It’s just . . .” He’d resolved to tell her, but even now, the words felt stuck in his throat. Tails wished he hadn’t flicked his pencil off the desk; he needed something to fidget with. He took a deep breath. “Do you ever wonder if—if maybe you’re . . . if despite anything, you’re just—holding people back? Or not . . . contributing what you should be?”

Tangle blinked, and sat up straight on the stool. “What?”

“I mean—” Tails swung one of his own tails up so he could fidget with the tip; he couldn’t look her in the eyes anymore. “You do your best. And you do contribute some things. But it’s—when it matters, when it really counts, you just . . . fall short. You have to rely on someone else for help, to save the day. And you—no one’s mad about it, and they’d never say it, and you do some things so you know you’re not totally useless, but you wonder if, if maybe . . .”

“If, maybe . . . you made one mistake too many?” Tangle offered, and Tails’ ears flattened against his head, his shoulders hunched as he cringed. “If maybe at first it could be passed off as you just being inexperienced, and not really knowing what you were up against, and so you underestimated the enemy and he got the jump on you because of that. But then later, after you knew better and could be trusted, you still got careless and your zombified best friend got the jump on you and turned you into a zombot, and so she realized she really couldn’t rely on you after all. And so the real reason she left you behind wasn’t because you were working with the Restoration and she felt that your place was with them, but was actually because she felt she couldn’t count on you as her backup anymore because you’d already let her down once, so who’s to say it won’t happen again? And you can’t even fault her for that, because you did let her down once and, anyway, if she wanted you along she would have let you go with her, but she didn’t and that means that if you go after her now, you’re disrespecting what she wants and are just going to get told to go home again because she doesn’t want and can’t count on you at all.”

Tails furrowed his brow halfway through Tangle’s speech, and by the time she was finished, confusion clouded his anxiety so thoroughly he could hardly feel it anymore. “Huh?”

Tangle blinked; for a moment, it looked as though she’d almost forgotten he was there. Then she laughed loudly, and waved a hand through the air as if dispelling smoke from burned cookies. “Just as, you know, a totally random and totally not specific or in any way real scenario.”

Tails frowned. “Right . . .”

“But, anyway. My totally random and not specific or in any way real example aside—am I hearing you right? You think you’re not contributing enough? You?” Tangle reached over with her tail again, and this time gave him a light push on his shoulder. “Have you seen all the stuff you’ve built? You’ve got two whole workshops filled, plus all that stuff at Restoration HQ. You’ve got a crazy amount of inventions! And you’ve saved the world, several times! And you’re only eight! You know what I was doing when I was eight? I was parkouring off cliffs, and not even on purpose. Jewel didn’t get those guns of hers by hauling rocks around her museum, let me tell you. She got them from hauling my sorry butt back up from the cliff I threw myself down for the third time in a week.”

Tails chuckled. “Yeah. But—”

“But nothing.” Tangle flopped her tail on top of Tails’ head, and he brushed it away. “You are hands down the coolest eight-year-old I’ve ever seen in my life. So what if you need help sometimes? Everyone does, and you should know; you help people all the time. So why’s it bad for you to get helped back, huh?”

“It’s not bad. I just . . .” Tails flailed a hand, gesturing to nothing. “I’ve been doing this for a long time now. I just feel like maybe I should be . . . better, by now.”

“Well . . .” Tangle tilted her head side to side, considering. “That’s not a . . . bad thing, maybe. I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’re totally awesome and should have way more confidence in yourself. But if you were totally satisfied, then you couldn’t get even better, right? You’d stop trying. And there’s no way this world would be able to handle it if you stopped trying, so that would be no good.”

Tails gave her a wry smile. “The world would be fine. I mean, there’s Sonic—”

“Sonic can’t invent the things you do,” Tangle said. Her tail poked him in the chest. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s amazing and a hero and we’d all be doomed a thousand times over without him, and if I get to go on another adventure with him tomorrow I’ll have waited too long—but he’s no scientific genius, y’know? But you are, and you’re cool and nice and not evil or bonkers like Eggman or Starline. So we definitely need you in our corner.”

Warmth flooded Tails’ cheeks, and he looked away as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Thanks, Tangle.”

“Don’t mention it, li’l dude. What are cool tail buddies for?” Tangle winked, and Tails felt his smile grow. “So, what’cha workin’ on? You said something about a rocket launcher? Please tell me you have a rocket launcher.”

“Not yet,” Tails said, and Tangle’s shoulders slumped in exaggerated disappointment. “But I have been working on a few other things, like a new set of prototype missile gauntlets.”

Tangle sat straight up in her chair, eyes shining. “Missile gauntlets?”

“Yeah—well, I was thinking about Knuckles, you know? He’s a brawler, so he specializes in close-quarters combat. But Eggman knows that, so if he sent badniks to Angel Island, they’d probably be ones that are built for long-range combat.”

As he spoke, Tails hopped off his stool and crossed the room to the workbench along the back wall, where the prototype gauntlets—having just had the finishing touches put on them the night before—sat. Tangle followed close at his heels, her eyes the size of dinner plates.

“So just in case he gets attacked by long-range badniks and we’re not near enough to help, I figured these might be able to give him an extra boost. They can function like normal gauntlets in close-range combat, but if he presses this button here by curling his wrist—” Tails indicated a button on the inside cuff, “—then it’ll deploy missiles from the knuckles of the gauntlet, here.” He tapped his fingers along small, barely visible missile compartment doors along each of the four knuckles. “Of course, right now each gauntlet only holds four missiles, so it’s not exactly practical for a long fight, and I haven’t figured out how best to reload them, especially since Knuckles isn’t exactly the greatest with technology, but—”

“Those. Are so. Cool!” Tangle squealed, and Tails jumped yet again, his tails spinning this time to keep him a few inches off the ground until his heart rate slowed. “Can I see them in action? Can I try them out?! Please, please can I try them out?!”

“Well, I made them for Knuckles, so they’re a bit big, but . . .” Tails eyed Tangle’s clasped hands, and then her pleading eyes and wobbling lower lip. He grinned. “Gimme ten minute to adjust the size, and then we can go out to the target range out back.”

Tangle let out another delighted squeal, and scooped him up in a bear hug. For the second time in under five minutes, Tails felt his feet leave the ground. “Woohoo! You’re the best, Tails!”

Tails laughed as she set him back on his feet, his own tails swishing behind him. “Heheh, well . . . I try.”

- - -

It wasn’t too uncommon for there to be reports of explosions in the general vicinity of Tails’ Mystic Ruins workshop. Tails was a super genius, but he was a super genius who often worked with explosive materials and way too much electrical charge, and so every now and then, things were bound to get a little explode-y. So when there was talk of an occasional kaboom heard in the Mystic Ruins, Sonic didn’t usually get too worried.

But sometimes it wasn’t just one kaboom. Sometimes it was multiple kabooms. And when those multiple kabooms were accompanied by talks of missiles and rockets and lots of yelling . . . that’s when Sonic’s quills got set on edge.

It wasn’t in his nature to panic right away. Multiple kabooms, rockets, and yelling didn’t necessarily mean that Eggman had decided to strike again, targeting Tails’ workshop directly this time. But when Sonic tried calling and got voicemail—well, that still didn’t necessarily mean Tails was in danger. Maybe he was just caught up in whatever he was working on, and didn’t hear his communicator beep. So Sonic tried again, and once more, got voicemail. And when he tried a third time . . .

Well, he didn’t try a third time. Kabooms, missiles, yelling, voicemail. All four things combined meant it was time to pay the Mystic Ruins workshop a visit.

Fortunately, he wasn’t too far away. He made it to Tails’ home in record time, picking up the pace when he caught sight of the wispy spirals of smoke rising in the sky from Mystic Ruins’ border. As he wound his way through the Ruins, he spied no badniks—but then, that was probably intentional. Ol’ Egghead was probably laying a trap. Not a very good one, considering how fast word spread that something was going down in Mystic Ruins, and how obvious the smoke was visible against the sky, but—

Another explosion rent the air, and rocked the earth enough so that Sonic stumbled as he reached Tails’ front door. Immediately following, he heard a whoop of delighted laughter from behind the workshop.

He blinked, and stood up straight. Was that . . . Tangle?

Seeing as how nothing seemed to be happening inside the lab, Sonic looped around to the back, where Tails’ outdoor testing area and target range was. Upon reaching the back, three things immediately became clear:

One: His ID of the voice he heard was correct; Tangle was indeed in what remained of Tails’ backyard.

Two: Tails was just fine, and not under attack at all. He had his tablet in hand, and was surveying the wreckage with a grin from his vantage point up in the air.

And three: Rebuilding the testing area was not going to be fun.

To say it was in ruins was an understatement. Every single target, from the ones that had been pinned to the trees, to the stationary standees, to the ones that Tails had built into moving tracks in the ground, had been blasted apart in some form or another. There were little embers smoldering in the grass in different parts of the yard. Several trees had been knocked over. A pair of rickies were staring at the carnage with horrified awe from the roof of Tails’ workshop.

Tangle spotted Sonic as he rounded the corner, and while she had already been sporting a manic grin, her smile somehow grew even wider as her hand shot into the air and she waved at him. “Hey Sonic! What’s up?!”

“Seems like that’s what I should be asking you,” Sonic said, as Tails swooped down to land beside him. Sonic raised an eyebrow as he glanced over at Tails. “Some people were saying they heard explosions out this way, so I figured I’d swing by to take a look. Everything okay?”

“Yeah! Tangle’s just helping me test some new gear,” Tails said, as Tangle zipped over to them at speeds Sonic didn’t know she was capable of. She still wasn’t on his level, of course, but he did have to step out of the way as she blazed by, a trail of fire sparking on the grass behind her.

“Rocket boots,” Tangle said, before Sonic had a chance to ask. Her eyes were shining brighter than a pair of suns, and she pumped her fists in front of her. “He made rocket boots!”

Sonic laughed. “No kidding?”

“They’re for Shadow,” Tails explained, and he held out his tablet so Sonic could glance over the schematics on the screen. “I know his are still in okay shape, but that doesn’t mean they can’t be better. And I’ve added extra propulsion to these ones to add more force to his kicks. You know, since he likes to kick people.”

“He does like doing that,” Sonic agreed.

“I mean, who knows when we’ll see him again. But if something does happen, I figure it might be nice to give him a boost. You know, as thanks for helping us out. I’m thinking about making some for his Chao, too, so it can keep up with him.”

“Not sure he wants to be bringing that little guy into battle. Though you never know, maybe Cream and Cheese’ll inspire him.”

“Right? So it won’t hurt to be prepared, just in case.”

“Okay, as absolutely freaking adorable as the idea of Chao rocket boots sounds, I’m ready to try out the next thing,” Tangle said, already slipping out of the rocket boots she’d lit the grass on fire with. “You got anything else, little guy? Please tell me you have something else. You’ve gotta have something else.”

“Hmm . . .” Tails tapped his finger to his chin in thought, and then grinned. “You know, I did finish a prototype for a magnet gun last week. It works by using magnetism to attract and repel metal, theoretically turning anything used against us into possible ammunition to—”

“Is it in the same area of your workshop as the other things?” Tangle interrupted, eyes bright. Tails nodded, and Tangle pumped her fist into the air. “Heck yes! I’m on it!” With that, she turned and dashed back into the lab.

Sonic shook his head, smiling as he watched her go, and then looked back at Tails. Tails was already skimming through the schematics on his tablet again, no doubt searching for the magnet gun’s folder so he could make notes based on Tangle’s tests. Now that he knew the workshop wasn’t under attack, his quills settled back into a more relaxed position, his heartrate returning to its usual fast, but not supercharged. Tails was safe. He was having fun with Tangle. His yard was destroyed, but they could deal with that later. Sonic would help, and he would only be a little melodramatic about it.

But it seemed like everything they had tested so far was some kind of weapon. Even the boots for Shadow—didn’t Tails say something about adding more firepower to them, to help Shadow in combat? And a magnet gun, while it didn’t have ammunition of its own . . .

So much had happened so fast. Eggman had successfully taken over the world, and kept Sonic in captivity for six months, during which Tails was alone. Then not long after that, Metal Sonic had tried to take the Master Emerald, and the world with it. Then there was the Metal Virus pandemic, and the incident at White Park . . .

Sonic loosely crossed his arms, his head tilted as he examined Tails. Tails was still scanning through the blueprints on his tablet, his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth.

He was such a smart, strong, brave kid. But he was also, well . . .

“Hey,” Sonic said, and Tails looked up, his ears perked in question. “You doing okay?”

“Huh?” Tails blinked, as though caught off-guard, and for a second—just a second, so quick Sonic almost missed it—it looked like something clouded his eyes. But then he smiled as the door to his workshop opened again, Tangle bounding back out into the yard. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

Something was there. Sonic didn’t know what it was, but he did know he didn’t like it. Tails was so smart, and strong, and brave. But . . .

“No reason,” Sonic said. “Hey, doesn’t that new AGES game come out this weekend? How about we give it a spin?”

Tails grinned, and wagged his tails in a hard enough circle that he lifted a little off the grass. “Really? You want to?”

“Definitely,” Sonic said, and he grinned as Tails beamed, and did a delighted little loop in the air.

“All right, I’ve got the gun,” Tangle said, and Sonic took a step back as she hefted a heavy, dark blue-grey weapon in her hands. Once again, her smile was manic; it was not at all hard to believe that she had destroyed all the targets in the yard with glee. “Show me how to work this thing!”

“You got it!” Tails dropped back down to the grass, and leaned closer to Tangle as he started to give her a detailed run-down of the gun: the trigger mechanism, magnetism strength modification slider, the whole works. Sonic shook his head, and as Tangle nodded fervently along with Tails’ instructions, bounded up onto the roof to sit beside the rickies and watch the chaos that was about to unfold.

Tails was a smart, strong, and brave kid. But he also was still a kid. More specifically still, he was—and always would be, no matter how old they got—Sonic’s kid brother.

Tails indicated a hunk of scrap metal on the other side of the yard. Tangle took aim and fired. The magnet gun’s magnetic beam worked as intended; it secured the scrap metal in a vibrating grasp, and propelled it straight back at Tangle at alarming speed. Heeding Tails’ shouted warning, Tangle spun herself in several circles, swinging the scrap metal around her, before she released it and sent it flying. It crashed clear through a tree, and made a strong dent in the tree behind it. Tails, delighted, saved the video on his tablet as Tangle crowed in triumph.

No matter how much he wished he could, Sonic couldn’t stop the bad things from happening. And no matter what he said, he knew he couldn’t make Tails feel like he could slow down on making an armory big enough to outfit the entire world—at least, not for long. But whatever nightmares bugged Tails at night, or spurred him to develop new guns and rockets during the day . . . well, maybe Sonic couldn’t dispel them completely, but a chill weekend of video games and junk food definitely couldn’t hurt.

Tails retrieved the scrap metal and set it out so Tangle could give the magnet gun another go, and Sonic leaned back comfortably against the roof to watch the show.

#IDW sonic #miles tails prower #tangle the lemur #cool tail buddies #sonic the hedgehog #unbreakable bond #and a little Whispangle angst in there because I am incorrigible (but also not at all sorry)#the comics want to have Metal call Tails unworthy & then do nothing with it? fine. then i will write the angst MYSELF #and throw in Whispangle angst for good measure because boy howdy do I love those lesbians and can't WAIT for them to reunite #anyway Tangle is a Cool Big Sis and I love her. She ties with Sonic as my second favorite Sonic series character #(Tails and Whisper tie as my first favorite. honestly tho it's a very close contest. I love all four of them so goddamn much)#you know that scene in season two of Gravity Falls when Mabel is firing the fireworks rocket and she goes ''I AM A GOD OF DESTRUCTION!!'' ?#that's Tangle testing out Tails' gear lmao #Sonic just wasn't there for that part (also bc Tails' rocket launcher isn't finished yet. but Soon)#anyway. back to running the prayer circle that Tangle and Whisper get to show up in Frontiers somehow #a woman can dream #fic fix #OH and the fic title comes from ''The Wrecked & the Worried'' by NateWantsToBattle. one of my faves #sth

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snowflakeanimelover · 2 years

Note

you do mha right? I wanna request something in return for the Rengoku x Pregnant! Reader request.

Shinsou Hitoshi x Cat girl! Reader fluff where the reader hasn't spoken to anyone throughout highschool due to her being ashamed of her high-pitched voice but Shinsou gets her to talk

Feel free to add or change anything! Have a good day/night/evening! Luv u❤️

Luv u too!! This request kept disappearing on me! Then coming back. Thank goodness it comes back, lol. Of course I will write this for you! And I hope you have an amazing day/night! <3

Relationship: Shinsou Hitoshi x Female Reader

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Warnings: Reader has cat quirk, Fluff :), Mention of bullying(If you bully people please unfollow me. You are not cool if you bully people.)

— — — —

Just Like A Kitten

To most people, a quirky world is a dream come true. And for most, having a quirk is something they really want. But for some, it’s like a nightmare. People wonder why having a cat quirk is such a problem, since they think the reason why a girl doesn't speak or is scared all of the time is because she is too ashamed of her quirk. To (Y/N), it isn’t because of the quirk she hates so much. It’s her voice.

She isn’t sure if the quirk caused this to happen to her voice, or if she was just born with it. In the past, as a little girl, (Y/N) was bullied and laughed at for having such a high-pitched voice. She remembers the way they quietly giggle when she speaks just one word. Or even a small sneeze. It’s so obvious her voice is so unnatural.

But she also has to remind herself that in an elementary school, quirks weren’t very known. They weren’t allowed to use them in school perimeters. Now, in U.A. there are all kinds of different people. Being there for a while, everyone is very kind to her. But after what happened in the past, (Y/N) refrains from speaking. She is too scared to find the wrong people around her.

Although she tries her best to not talk, there is someone who’s interest has been piqued by her. And because of that, she finds herself in an empty room with one of her classmates. A boy named Shinsou Hitoshi. She hasn’t ever really spoken to him, being that he’s the quiet type, but she still finds him a little attractive.

Shaking her wondrous mind away, she nods to the boy and waves. Grabbing her stuff, she tries to walk out of the room as fast as possible.

“Why don’t you speak?” He suddenly asks. (Y/N) stops in her tracks, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion while her ears twitch. She glances at him, but he stays facing away. Is there something wrong with your voice?” He finally turns around looking at her.

(Y/N) wasn’t sure how to respond. She wasn’t sure if she should tell the truth or lie. In the midst of panic, she shakes her head to his question.

Shinsou chuckles, rubbing his neck. “Really?” He watches her nod. His eyes narrow in quick study. “Why are you lying to me? Is it so bad to help someone understand your situation?”

“Wh- N-No…!” She suddenly bursts out. She covers her mouth, as if to keep it shut from any further words to escape. Now she’s done it. Now, she’ll be the laughing stock of the school. Everyone is going to talk about her, and make fun of her.

Why would he do such a thing? Why was he so adamant in making her speak? (Y/N) was too ashamed and scared to run away. She closed her eyes tightly, listening to Shinsou’s footsteps get closer.

She squeaks when a hand lands on her head, her eyes opening wide. She could feel the warmth from his hand as it softly pats her. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I couldn’t think of any other way to get you to talk.”

“B-but…why…?” She mumbles through her hands, hoping it wouldn’t sound so high. Despite her feelings at the moment, her tail wags at the affection he was giving her. The head pats were unbearable.

He doesn’t take his hand away. A smile graces his lips. “Just…curious. But…why are you scared to speak? Your voice…it’s cute.”

The shock went through her body like lightning. SHe quickly backs away, hitting her back against the wall. A deep red hue covers her cheeks. “Wh-what?! C-cute?!”

He chuckles once more. “Yeah. I like your voice. So don’t hide it, okay?” She could see a light pink color spread on his cheeks, his eyes avoiding eye contact. He then moves on, walking through the door to leave. But he stops just before she loses sight of him. “You sound just like a kitten…I like cats.” He mumbles, Soon vanishing behind a wall.

(Y/N) stumbles, her legs giving out below her. “H-he…likes my voice…” She says aloud, shocked beyond belief of her classmate’s odd words.

#my hero academia #mha #bnha #shinsou hitoshi x reader #shinsou hitoshi #cat reader #reader has cat quirk #fluff #x reader #reader #female reader

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usafphantom2 · 5 months

Text

Back from one of its (often rather fraught) early test flights, the prototype BAC TSR-2, with the Lightning chase aircraft behind, is marshalled back to its parking spot in the Autumn on 1964. A 'valve era' electronic suite didn't help its case to survive the 'axe' IMHO.

@Clark_Aviation via X

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screaming-universe · 1 year

Text

Captain’s Responsibility

aka Eddie got hurt when he fell off the ladder, Bobby makes sure he's taken care of

also on ao3!

Bobby already had one firefighter to worry about; he really wished he did not have to think about another. But at least it gave him something to do.

“Eddie, you need to get checked out,” he said, trying to sound calm even though he was one second away from just picking the firefighter up and carrying him to the ER himself. He entertained that thought for a moment; Eddie might be surprised enough to not struggle. “You got thrown off the ladder when the lightning struck – don’t even try to deny it, I saw it happen. There’s nothing we can do here and I don’t want to have to worry about you too. “

Bobby wished that he could let go as he could see the others do in the waiting room. Let himself feel the pain and the fear instead of being there for the others to lean on, to make sure that they were taken care of. Eddie just shook his head, his face still pinched as he tried to keep all of his emotions in, to keep it together.

“Eddie,” Bobby repeated. He could point out that Buck would want him to go but he had a feeling that that wouldn’t help at all. He could invoke Chris, who needed Eddie to be alright but that felt wrong too. “Either you go or I’ll drag you there myself.”

“I’ll help,” Hen said.

Chimney had gone to meet Maddie – and the Buckley parents, apparently. But Bobby was sure that he’d help to drag Eddie off to the ER too.

“I can’t,” Eddie finally said, his voice barely recognisable. “I have to– I can’t leave him, Bobby.”

“You’re not leaving him,” Hen said. “We’ll just go to another part of the hospital and Chimney will let us know when there’s something new to know.”

Somehow, between the two of them they managed to walk Eddie over to the ER. They weren’t sure if they should go but neither Eddie nor the nurse asked them to leave, so they stayed. The nurse asked about what had happened and between the three of them they managed to cover everything. The lightning strike, falling backwards of the ladder, landing on his back. And completely ignoring all of that to help Buck.

The nurse told Eddie to strip to the waist and left to get a doctor. Eddie moved stiffly as he pulled off his turnout coat, as if every move hurt him. Bobby should not have let him go back up that ladder, he knew. But he could not have stopped him either and if Eddie hadn’t been there– Bobby couldn’t bear to think about it.

Eddie managed to unbutton his shirt but he couldn’t pull it off his shoulders. He tried three times, then he let his hands drop.

“Help,” he said so quietly it was hard to hear. And Bobby was reminded of a day five years ago, when Hen and Buck had been there for him when he’d needed help and asked for it. Before he had known Eddie. Eddie was so much like Bobby, he realised once again.

“Of course,” Bobby said and slowly helped Eddie with the shirt, careful to not hurt him any further.

He managed to keep his gasp in as he saw Eddie’s back. But as he exchanged a glance with Hen, she seemed as startled as he was. Eddie’s back was a tapestry of dark violet spots, almost black in some places, that stretched from the back of his shoulders to his turnout pants. It looked horrible.

The doctor seemed to agree and sent Eddie off get x-rayed to make sure that his spine had taken no damage. It was fine, as it turned out but it made Bobby realise what could have happened this night. Buck’s heart had stopped and Eddie’s spine could have been broken too.

In the end Eddie was allowed to go with them to the waiting room. The lightning seemed to have not actually touched Eddie – at least there was nothing the doctors had been able to find. Somebody was supposed to stay with him for the next days, to make sure they hadn’t missed anything. That would not be a problem, Bobby thought. Nobody wanted to be alone right now.

So he sat there with them, in his hand a salve that would help with bruising. Bobby had rubbed some of it on Eddie’s back just before they had gone back to the ER. It had been hard to ignore the way Eddie kept flinching, in more pain than he allowed anybody to see. Eddie was taken care of for now. He would be fine, at least physically. They would have to wait and see if Buck would be too.

#weewoo #911 fanfic #my writing #bobby nash #eddie diaz #bobby and eddie #hen wilson #season six #6x11

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a-lilacsong · 1 year

Note

mateo and quita moz for the writing requests please :D

(This story is set after "Spirit of a Wizard” and before "The Lightning Warrior")

Mateo paced back and forth in the wooden hallway. “I shouldn't be worried about this… this is going to be fine. All I have to do is go in there, say hi, then maybe we can talk, and if he's busy I can leave. No big deal right?” He said to himself. His clenched fist lingered near the mass of roots which made up the door, hesitating. He had only ever talked to Quita Moz once when he was with Elena, and he felt like he hadn't made the best impression.

The first thing he’d asked the Oracle was “Can I call you Quita?” He shook his head as he remembered. What was he thinking!? It was one thing to be awkward around nobility or the palace staff, but it was another thing entirely to give a bad impression to an all-knowing ancient magical being who might be one of the only beings who he could really discuss Maruviain magic with! He desperately wanted to, but he was afraid that his questions would sound childish to someone so old and wise. So the only time he'd ever really met the Oracle was when Elena insisted he come along with her for her crystal tamborita lesson. (A tamborita made out of crystal! It was just as beautiful as he'd imagined. He even got to hold it at one point!)

Sure, he’d visited the other Sunbirds with Elena, and they were welcoming to him, but they weren't as interested in magic as Quita Moz (If you could even get them on this subject when talking with them). But now that he had his new tamborita from his grandfather's secret library, questions about it had been gnawing away at him and he finally mustered up enough courage to come here and try and ask those questions himself (after a little convincing from Elena, Luna, and Skylar). Maybe if they were here, they'd be able to help him, but they’d encouraged him to do it on his own. So here he was, he was going to walk through that door and say hello, no more hesitation.

Or maybe not. “No I really shouldn't bother him, he might not even be here right now…” He told himself. He turned to leave when suddenly the massive roots parted in front of him surprising him so much he fell backward onto the floor. Now that the door was open, he could see the giant Oracle inside, awake and looking down at him.

He quickly stumbled back up to his feet and tried to brush himself off while making an attempt at a wave. “Hello uh hola, hi there Quita Moz, it’s me Mateo! Hi! Sorry to make a surprise visit like this. I just…”

Quita Moz slithered towards the door “Greetings Mateo. It isn't a surprise to see that you're here.”

He looked up at him in awe, “Were you able to foresee my visit?”

“No, I did not get any visions about it, I just heard you talking to yourself in the hallway for the past 10 minutes.”

Mateo turned red “Congratulations me, you messed up your introduction yet again.” he thought. But he couldn't turn back now. “May I come in and speak with you? Por favor?”

He gestured with his wing “I don't see why not, you may come in.”

As Mateo walked through the door he looked at the roots that had been pulled away. “I'm glad to see that your door grew back after Kizin broke it. Maybe I should think about getting a door made out of living material for my wizard nook at the palace.” An anxious thought occurred to him “I'm sorry about not stopping Kizin before he got in here.” he apologized “But at least we stopped him before he released the other monsters, so all’s well that ends well right?” he awkwardly laughed and did a thumbs up.

Quita Moz's expression remained neutral “I agree. It's actually quite impressive that you were able to stop him so quickly. The last time he escaped, much more was destroyed than a door.”

“Oh well, it was mostly Naomi. She was the one who did all the stuff with the magic bag that day. Also, Elena and Gabe were there to stop him too, I was just sort of, you know, being part of the team.” He said pacing back and forth while flexing his fingers.

“You shouldn’t sell yourself short, Elena told me how important your research was in defeating him.”

He stopped pacing and made eye contact “She did?”

He nodded. “Yes, she always speaks very highly of you, you are evidently quite good at your job.”

He could feel the excitement rising in his chest. He took his tamberita out of his holster and held it so that his hands didn't just flail around with enthusiasm. So, Quita Moz didn't think he was a total joke after all! “Well, thank you. Thanks. That's good to hear!”

“You're welcome.” Then the sunbird looked puzzled and seemed to stare at him more closely. “Did you paint me on your tamborita?”

Oh no, he'd meant to ask about this more tactfully but now that the Oracle had seen it, the words just burst out of him all at once. “No, I mean, maybe? I mean, I didn't paint it! I found it in my abuelo's library, along with some old robes of his and I decided to start using it because it's so cool! And I realized it looks like you, and I didn't know that my abuelo even knew that you existed, so I didn't know if it was coincidence or if it was on purpose! And I wanted to know if you ever met my grandfather Alacazar before?”

The sunbird spread his wings and furrowed his brow “Whoa, slow down Mateo, deep breaths. You look like you're about to fall over again.”

“Right. Yes. Yep. Deep breaths.” Mateo breathed in and out for a few counts before Quita Moz continued.

“So Alacazar was the one who made it? That makes sense, he was quite the artisan when it came to crafting tamboritas, and he did quite the handsome job on this one. May I see it more closely for a minute?”

“Yes, of course!” Said Mateo, handing it to him. “So you did know him! That's so cool, but I thought that everyone assumed that the sunbirds had disappeared since before he became the royal wizard?”

Quita Moz Held the tamborita in his tail feathers like they were a hand. “We had disappeared, it was a calculated decision. There were certain things that needed to be dealt with before we made our presence known again, and you never know when it's the right time to come back after being gone for so long.” He turned the tamborita over. “Hardly anyone knew that we were back, but Alacazar was curious to a fault and eventually found us. He visited me a few times before humans were banned from visiting Vallestrella.”

“Wow, that's amazing! You must have had a lot of time to talk with him and get to know him, right?”

“Well, yes, we discussed things, monsters, magic, the future…”

“So you told him prophecies about the future? His future?” Mateo was becoming ever more excited. The whole concept of prediction magic was fascinating, and yet with all he had read up about it he felt like he had barely scratched the surface of understanding it.

“Well, the flames can be pretty finicky at times, they didn't always show things every time he came to visit.”

“Is there anything specific you can remember?”

“Hmm.” He handed back the tamborita. “Yes, this is a very good wand.” Said the Oracle, not answering his question. “I'm surprised you didn't start using it sooner.”

“I only found the library last week. Before then, I had just been sleeping on top of it without ever knowing it was there. Although it was supposed to be a secret library, so I guess that makes sense.”

“I see…so Alacazar didn't even tell his family about it?” It was hard for Mateo to read the sunbird’s expression. Was he just curious or was he concerned?

Mateo shook his head “Oh no, my mom didn't know about it, and it wasn't in any of his journals either.”

“Then it's quite lucky that you found it.”

“Well, it wasn't quite luck….” Mateo replied, hoping Quita Moz wouldn't ask him any more about it. He could barely talk about it with his own mother, let alone an ancient Oracle he just formally met.

“Either way, it does fulfill a prophecy.” Quita Moz replied.

“Wait, it does?”

“Yes, you'd asked if I'd ever told Alacazar any prophecies in regards to him. Long ago in the flames I saw a young wizard with brown curly hair, wearing red robes, casting spells in his name. Now that I recall it, yes the wizard in the vision was wearing the same robes as you are now.”

Mateo jumped up “You saw me?!”

“Well, at the time neither of us were sure who it could be. After his daughter Rafa was born, he told me it must be her and that he was planning on teaching her magic when she was old enough. He said that he planned on surprising her with robes and her own tamborita as soon as she was ready.”

“So then…He must have made these robes for her.” Mateo said. He had wondered why they fit him so well when the rest of his grandfather's robes had such wide shoulders. Some old people in town said he looked a lot like his mom, so it must be true of visions of the future as well.

“Yes, although the flames' picture was unclear. Now that you're standing here before me I see that it must have been you all along. I'm sure that he'd be glad to know you’d found them and could wear them.”

“That's just what Elena said! I mean, Elena was there, when I found the robes and the tamborita and she also thought that I should have them. I mean, otherwise they'd just be sitting there collecting dust. But now that I know this was foretold, that makes them even more special!”

“Indeed, although It is a surprise to me that he would choose to paint me on the tamborita.”

“Well, I can see why, you were friends! You're the one who told him this prophecy in the first place, and you're majestic looking so why not paint you on it to honor you?”

“Honor me?”

“Of course! You deserve to be honored as much as anyone else I know. You've always helped Elena with her scepter, you taught her spells that were essential for protecting the Kingdom, and you told her about the darkness so she can prepare for it; even if we're not sure what it is yet. You're so amazing! Ha, that's why I was so nervous to meet you and I guess I still am.” He saw the sunbird’s expression was one of apprehension. “Wait, you don't feel that way?”

He shook his head “It's apparent that Alacazar as well as yourself held me in quite high regard but I did not do much to earn it.”

“What do you mean? You've been helping us out a ton!”

“Well, I've been helping Avalor in the present, but back then it was different. Over four decades ago I had visions of some kind of danger coming to Avalor, a dark force that would be hidden from view until its time had come...but I decided not to go through the portal to warn Alacazar about it. I decided that keeping my existence a secret was more important than seeking him out, and I just assured myself that it wouldn't be a big deal. That whatever it was, the kingdom of Avalor could defeat it and I wouldn't need to worry about it. But then it turned out that the threat was Shuriki.”

Mateo stood still, taking this all in.

“I only found out what happened when I overheard a jaquin patrol talking about the devastation. Now you are the last wizard left in Avalor.” he sighed “If only you had the chance to meet him. It's funny that you were afraid to meet me, because I've always been dreading the day that you would all learn this.”

Quita Moz bowed his head, he voice going quiet: "I'm sorry for my inaction, and all the horrors that caused and I’m sorry that you were unable to meet him. You really are a lot like your grandfather, curious, kind, and eager."

After a long moment of silence, Mateo replied, barely any more than a whisper. “I did meet him, and I-I wasn't able to save him either.”

“You...did?”

“Yes I-I-I—” he stuttered as a pain he'd been trying to bury in his heart shot to the surface.

“Mateo…” Quita Moz spread out his wings towards the young wizard. With eyes full of tears, he ran over to him and accepted the hug.

~~~~~~~~~~

Three weeks later…

“Hi Quita Moz!” said Mateo as he ran through the door of the cave.

Quita Moz looked over at the young wizard, who was carrying a very large backpack and wearing an even larger smile. “Hello Mateo, did you bring those potions you wanted me to look at?”

“Yes right here!” he said, holding up a few of the shimmering bottles.

“Great, those look- wait, is that your Maruvian spellbreaker potion?”

"Yep, it's from the latest batch where I added raíz de estrella to help restore the equilibrium of a target's inner magic after the potion has broken the initial effects of the target spell. It worked well on my plant tests. But umm, what do you think?"

"Mateo, that's…really clever, I hadn't considered that before, but that plant is a natural counter to the effects of hojas azules de frambuesa, so that makes sense it would balance it out."

“That's what I thought! I mean, it just sort of came to me one day when I was helping my mom pick berries for Sunday dessert. Then when I tried it out on Monday, whoosh, instantly more effective!”

“You'll have to show me then.” Said Quita Moz.

“Of course, I brought along a whole bag's worth of things to test it on. Let me just set up.”

As he watched Mateo set up, Quita Moz smiled. The young wizards' zest for magic was contagious. A memory flashed in his mind of many many summers ago when another young man had come to show him some plants that he’d discovered in caves around the valley. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed this, knowing someone who loved magic with all their heart and wanted to share their discoveries with another.

When Mateo left hours later, as the sun began to set, Quita Moz watched him leave, thinking about the apprentices of his past who eventually he never saw again. But he was content that he would see Mateo again in two weeks' time. No disappearing, and no pacing.

#Mateo de Alva #Quita Moz #elana of avalor #eoa #This was supposed to be short and then it grew into 2500 words #ask answer #my writing #2023-02-21 #Lilac's writing requests

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getallemeralds · 11 months

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doip. / 6.9.23: Attack of the Boar

WAHOO. WAHOO. WAHOO. WAHOO oh hey its 6/9 . nice

oh also jason is here! yay jason! jorb has invited him to the campaign so he's spectating us getting our ass kicked probably considering he got invited Yesterday. excited to see where this goes

LAST TIME, ON DRAGON OF ICESPIRE PEAK: Out heroes were taskedb y Falcon the Hn=unter to clean out the Woodland Manse of the . talos. granok is doing dark rituals for a isnister god. Granoth was defeated, not before he was able to send a message, proclaiming to the group that Gorthok would come. After returning to Falcon's hunting lodge, our heroes celebrated their vicftory, and took a well-deserved night's sleep. But that sense of victory wouldnt last as Gorthok the Thunderboar tore down the very walls o the lodge! Will our heroes be able to defeart gforthok and save their bac on . find out. today [blows up]

im telekinetically flinging targor around. yeet TIME FOR INITIATIVE. WAHOE targor has an initiative of pie (3.14) oh thank god, gorthok is Slow (also rolled a 3) LITTLE GUY IS A DIRE BADGER NOW we never did name nameless.

nyx: oh, i can burrow, that's interesting leo: you will be the lone survivor on account of digging in the earth for tubers

jorb: [struggling to move a guy] nyx: i like how he's teleporting around. leo: he's very indecisive about where he wants to teleport to we have immediately thrown targor to the wolves boars

EVERYBODY IS CHARGING AT ME AND FAILING TO HIT LOL oh no nevermind one rolled a nat20 while i was typing that oh dear targor is at half health already. on the opening salvo. eep LOL . THEYRE NOW THROWING JAVELINS AT ALIDAAR oh thats a 23 to hit, huh alidaar's hp is bugged uh oh. i wish it worked in my favour (i fixed it)

OPENING SALVO: ALIDAAR BLASTS LIKE 10 GUYS WITH A BREATH WEAPON. GET FUCKED LOL alidaar singlehandedly takes out like 8 guys in one go between his silver breath weapon and two-weapon fighting. get fucked lol kepesk enters a rage and takes out the guy alidaar missed! also i think i forgot to write it last time but whenever he rages he's got this like, sick-ass mask made of storm clouds and lightning

nyx: you're learning! you're becoming sentient! jorb & leo: YOU'RE SO SENTIENT TODAY

god these guys have like. no middle ground between "complete whiff" and "wrecking our shit" as far as attack rolls go. speaking of i have been javelin'd

THE BOAR CAN SHOOT LIGHTNING

jorb: ok you're gonna take 28 lightning damage green: not even that bad kepesk: [goes down to a third health]

FALCON IS HERE YEAH WOO THE HOTBOY IS HERE TO HOTGUY wait that doesnt make sense out of context. hi jorb there is a hermitcraft bit where scar tries to be hawkeye from the avengers but it sounds like he's saying "hotguy" and so now his superhero persona is hotguy. and also im calling falcon hot WHY DOES FALCON HAVE HALF OF THE PARTY'S TOTAL HP IN ONE MAN

we're still in the first round btw. they are now throwing javelins at nameless but OH MY GOD TARGOR IS NEARLY DEAD LMAO

round 2! very scuffed. alidaar ends up 3 hit comboing a Single Guy bc of an unlucky miss and im not wanting to risk another breath weapon while kepesk is in range bc uhhh 2d10 is not great when he's at 15hp. also im saving my big guns (runes + might) for when we engage the boar bc we're still thinning the crowd jorb constantly reminding us we can use our movement and then Also reminding us that if we do we will get mauled . thanks jorb (lighthearted)

successfully avoiding taking further damage by going afk (this is not true but i did go afk. it was not a cunning plan)

TIME FOR BOAR . boar has been stuck in the corner because of all the men we are slaughtering. green: he could move if he murdered the guys in the way leo: does the boar have friendly fire?

OH MY GOD KEPESK DODGED A HIT AND THEN GOT NICKED BY THE OTHER ONE AND WENT DOWN TO 2 HP. JESUS

green: this is one of those bossfights in a game where you're like "oh i'm supposed to lose" and then you lose and get a game over

nameless: KEPESK YOU DUMB MOTHERFUCKER YOU CAN'T DIE ON ME kepesk: [coughing] I CAN DO WHATEVER I WANT nameless: NO YOU WON'T

jorb: [yellow] is gonna throw another javelin at falcon… nyx: how many javelins does he have? jorb: …yknow, that's a good point! he's not gonna do that! jason: Magical item: bag of endless javelins

FALCON HAS A LONGSWORD. NICE falcon sucks ass at swordfighting actually. great

jorb: turns out flailing a sword around 3 times in six seconds really sacrifices the accuracy. like "[falcon voice] huh. that looked cooler in my head."

alidaar charges at the guy next to falcon, hits with dragon slayer, whiffs with silver axe, then pivots and dragon slayers the guy on his left to death. NICE. jorb: falcon says "[approving] that's what i was trying to do!" alidaar: [thumbs up]

its the return of crunchy wordpad images sorry

WHY DID THEY REDUCE EVERYONE TO CUBES anyway we have successfully turned the tide

kepesk: [bites somebody] haha, didn't even taste that good! jorb: roll a deception check. green: haha - really ?? jorb: no.

jorb: next up it is the red cultists' turn! there are none of them left.

targor: fight on! the battle is nearly won! alidaar: we still have a big boar to deal with! kepesk: i have a big boar to deal with, i'm the only one fighting it (<- the only one targeted so far) jorb: gorthok is gonna advance. kepesk: i shouldn'tve said anything!

LOL GORTHOK JUST. WHIFFS THE ATTACK ON ALI. meanwhile kepesk keeps getting electrocuted

falcon continuing to - oh no he got a 20 to hit, nice! …and then got a 12. ok well 1 out of 3 aint bad green: next time he'll hit 2, he's getting better! leo: 1 out of 3 aint bad! falcon: thanks guys, i appreciate it.

time for another silver breath weapon! god im glad i have 3 charges now. one guy left standing! (and the giant murder boar.) OOF. MAN i fus ro dah'd gorthok to try and give kepesk some breathing room and it no-selled it. not ideal. however alidaar DID then jump over kepesk's head to axe the final add so now it is just The Boar Problem OH MY GOD KEPESK COMPELLED DUEL LOL. love it when ridiculous compelled duels. nvm action economy is a mess

green: kepesk takes a look at the boar and goes BREAKFAST and bites it

following up with some nice rapier hits! woo! love that two guys have 2 actions and a bonus green: im imagining that turn as kepesk like, bites, and then does the slashing on its butt while dangling from his jaws

HAHA KEPESK - uh oh nvm i am being stomped to death . OH GOD I AM LITERALLY BEING STOMPED TO DEATH. I HAVE BEEN KNOCKED DOWN TO -1 HP. THAT'S A FIRST . we haven't had to deal with that since the manticore! holy shit!

nyx: [stammering] IM GOING T . IM GOING TO . IM GGUWH. IM G [..] im going to cast guiding bolt

oh shit, 21 radiant damage! let's go! alidaar would be cheering if he wasn't unconscious

falcon does 2 piercing damage. he's helping

alidaar status: 1 succeeded death saving throw! huagh OH GOD MY PLANS. I WAS GONNA BE THE HEAVY HITTER

green: [figuring out actions] jorb: i'm sorry, you don't get to fire ball as a bonus action. (kepesk has a necklace of fireballs! this can only end well. green has decided to not try and immolate the fort)

AAA THE BOAR IS NEARLY DONE AAAA CMONNNN KILL - OH MY GOD IT HAS RELENTLESS? IT GOT BACK UP . FUCK. BUT ALSO IT'S ON ITS LAST LEGS STILL GO - OH MY GOD KEPESK STILL HAS THE SECOND ACTION KEPESK! KILL!!!

KEPESK IS GONNA FUCKING. AERITH GORTHOK. GOING FULL SHADOW OF THE COLOSSUS. KEPESK DID A SHADOW OF THE COLOSSUS KILL ON THE BIGASS BOAR

kepesk: FALCON. TELL THE COOK GUY

ali is still dead on the ground. lol. green: you don't heal when the fight is over?? jorb: no. leo: no :( green: this sucks

alidaar is no longer dying! wahoo! nameless: you're - my friend now. you're not allowed to die. aw. and then little guy goes binturong and curls up on him. kepesk: [injured] im the one that killed the thing =/

targor: we did it! we felled the beast! a glorious battle! hahahaowww [..] targor: it would be wise to rest. kepesk: haha no it's ok [gets up] [falls back over]

calling the session early bc nyx has to do homework! gonna try and get together sooner though ^w^ this was pretty fun for a bossfight session oh god gorthok was same cr as cryovain. but we handled him pretty well i think! (<- guy who got downed)

leo: we're picking up party members left and right now nyx: we're slurping them up like jellyfish. leo: [strained] grrreEAT

[klonoa voice] WAHOO! [deltarune explosion noise]

#leo chirps #doip.#mdnl #dnd

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