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radioactivepeasant · 1 year

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Fic Prompts: Free Day Thursday

This is part of my Splinter Cell au, following up on Jak meeting his alternate timeline parents for the first time

Mar peered at the crowd from the safety of his uncle's arms and frowned. That was a lot of people! They looked normal, not dressed funny like the people in this city, at least. But what were they all crowded around?

A tall lady moved aside for an instant, and Mar almost could've shouted in excitement if his throat hadn't seized up.

Mama!

He smacked Sig’s arms, his shoulders, frantically, pointing at the crowd and then himself. With a shaky breath, Sig crouched and set him down on the sand.

"Go on," he said thickly, "Go to your mama."

Mar didn't have to be told twice. He ran as fast as his short legs could carry him. Some of the adults heard him coming and turned to see him, only to step back out of his way with wide eyes. Mar slammed into his mother's legs and clung to her skirt. He didn't understand why he was about to cry. He was happy! He'd missed his mother so much! So why was he crying?

Mama gasped, and then her arms were around him, warm and strong and just like he remembered.

"Baby!"

Mama's voice bounced up and down, like she had the hiccups.

"Oh Minnow, we were so worried about you! Who took you? Are you okay? Do you remember what happened, baby?"

Mar buried his face in the crook of his mother's neck and shook his head. He didn't remember much about the night they all got separated, just mean faces and an ugly bird and people yelling at him to be quiet. Probably because the weird people in Haven were so loud that they couldn't hear themselves think already. Mar thought he maybe used to cry out loud, but it wasn't quiet enough.

"Where's Jakky?" Mar asked, and wiped his nose on his sleeve.

Hadn't Jak had a mission today? Did he come back okay? He'd seemed scared before going.

"Your br- your older brother?" Phobos asked. She smiled, but her eyes were damp. "He came out to meet us when we got here. Your daddy is talking to him."

"Where?! Where's Daddy?!" Mar whipped his head back and forth, searching the crowd for his father.

He spotted Jak, looking really nervous and doing the thing where he scratched his arm a lot. Mister Kor used to call it a Nervous Tick, which was a weird thing to say, because Jak wasn't pretending to be a clock at all. Jak looked down at the sand and mumbled something.

Why was he nervous? Jak wasn't afraid of anything!

"Is Jakky sad?" Mar asked, confused. "We found you! Why's he sad?"

His mother's arms tightened around him. "I don't think he's sad, sweet one. But Jak hasn't met us before. He's a little shy, and that's okay."

Well that didn't make any sense, and Mar wasn't shy about saying so.

"Mommy," he signed, matter-of-factly, "You're Jakky's mommy too, remember? You remember? Why you said he hasn't met you?"

Phobow frowned and slowly rose from the sand to settle Mar on her hip. She looked to her husband, speaking quietly and gently to the skittish teenager, and sighed.

"Jak...got taken away a long time ago. Just like bad guys took you away. I think he was too little to remember us."

Righteous indignation rose up in the little boy's chest and spilled over his cheeks in hot tears, even while he fought to keep his lip from trembling.

"That's not fair!" He almost hit the Spargan next to Phobos with the vehemence of his signs.

"It's not," Phobos agreed. "But we're here now, and I promise, Mar, we will never lose either of you again."

Jak met her eyes at that moment, and he pointed at himself in disbelief. Phobos's heart ached seeing the shock in this newfound son's face. It wasn’t that he didn't believe they were his people. Phobos had seen those eyes in the broken before the rebellion finally toppled the old regime of Spargus: Jak didn't know he was worth saving. He didn't understand why anyone would want him -- or was it that he was used to being wanted as a weapon? An object, a tool with no autonomy or feelings of his own.

Phobos would find the people who had taken her baby, and she would find the people who had broken this boy -- this spitting image of Damas -- and they would pay in blood for every tear they'd caused to fall.

For now, she simply held Mar to her breast. She closed her eyes and let herself feel the pulse in his skin where it lay against her neck, warm and alive and proof that this was real. He was so much taller now, and thinner than he ought to have been. A gangly tangle of arms and legs, wound around her neck and waist. Phobos buried her face in his hair and let the tears fall at last.

Relief and joy and the pain of two lost years -- two years of milestones they would never get back -- and it was finally over.

Jak watched the woman crying softly into Mar's hair, feeling unbearably out of place. This scene wasn't meant for him. He wasn't Mar.

He was as much a stranger to these people as they were to him. They didn't know each other. He couldn’t just pretend to suddenly have memories and emotions that had been ripped from him ages ago. Whatever he'd been like as a little kid, who was to say he had been anything like Mar was now?

Panic began to build in his throat, ringing in his ears and drowning out whatever Mar's father was saying to him.

They have some version of me in their heads. Everyone does. What do they want me to be? What'll they do the first time I screw up? Sure, they're nice now, but what happens when I don't fit in their box?

Suddenly Daxter was there, weighing down his shoulders, digging in his claws just enough to bring Jak back down to earth. And he felt something else, something he'd only experienced once before.

Light eco.

The eco washed over him like a warm wind, soaking into his muscles and down into his core. It met the darkness head on, and a violent surge of nausea rocked Jak. His knees hit the sand unexpectedly, and his jaws ached with the force of holding back bile. Every nerve, every cell burned like he was back in the Chair again. And then, just as quickly, the pain was gone.

The ugliness, the boiling acid that flowed between his veins and arteries, was...different. Farther away, almost. As if it had been neutralized by something. The light eco?

"Easy, easy there, pal."

Daxter patted his back.

"Just take some deep breaths and let Spike here work his magic."

"Don't call me that."

Mar's father sounded mildly irritated, like he was distracted.

"It fits, doesn't it?" Daxter retorted.

"Call me Spike, Scar, or anything that isn't my name," the man grunted back, "and I'm calling you "rat"."

Daxter crouched low against Jak’s neck and muttered in his ear, "Touch-y! I can see where you got your sense of humor, Jak."

He turned to give Damas a wry look. "Bigfoot here gets the same way when Krew's goons call him "prettyboy"."

Jak gritted his teeth. "You call me dumb names," he rasped through numb lips, "nobody else does."

He finally found the mental wherewithal to raise his eyes and discovered that Damas knelt in the sand across from him, one hand glowing slightly. There was a very grim look in his eyes, one that spoke multitudes.

"Never let them take your name from you," he agreed solemnly.

Jak averted his gaze again with a bitter snort.

"They already did once. But this name, I chose. It's mine."

Precursors knew he'd gotten to choose precious little in his life. He wouldn't give this up.

Damas leaned back and settled both hands on his knees.

"All the more reason to fight for it," he said.

Then he tilted his head and frowned.

"Is your eco core stable now, young one?"

A cold chill squirmed in Jak’s gut. He swallowed hard, and the words stuck in his throat as he turned to Daxter.

"How close was I?" he signed as dread rose to squeeze his lungs.

Daxter winced. "Fangs and claws, but no horns," he whispered.

Oh rot.

Mar's father had seen the Thing. Barely a glimpse, but it would be enough to seal his fate.

Trembling, Jak looked up.

Damas’s expression was still grave.

"No one else saw it," he said quietly, "It's alright. You're alright. Do you often lose control in fight or flight situations?"

"Lay off! It's not Jak’s fault!" Daxter leaned out from Jak's shoulder, fur bristling.

"I never said it was," Damas answered. His face softened, and he leaned forward.

"When was the last time you absorbed light eco, son?"

What kind of question was that?

"...two...two years ago," Jak mumbled.

That seemed to satisfy the exile king. He fell back on his heels with a nod.

"Self-taught mastery over dark eco hasn't happened in generations, and never without the balancing influence of its sister element. I'm amazed you can battle-shift at all with an unbalanced core."

Jak and Daxter stared at the man with dull shock stamped across their faces.

Slowly, Daxter turned back to Jak.

"Did...did you get any of that?" he asked.

Jak grimaced. "I understood all those words separately," he muttered back.

"Sig, has he done this before?"

Jak craned his neck as Sig pushed through the crowd to sit down beside Jak. He dropped a comforting hand on Jak’s back and clicked his tongue.

"Just give him space. He's got this. Right cherry? You got this."

He waved off the other Wastelanders with a brusque gesture and shifted to one side, sitting as if guarding him.

Damas visibly relaxed and nodded once.

"I'm afraid this many of us at once may have overwhelmed him."

Jak slotted his fingers into his hair and an inappropriately hysterical giggle burst out of his throat, startling him and Daxter both.

"Ye- yeah, you could say that."

Sig frowned sharply. When Jak’s eyes drifted away, he quickly signed to Damas, "He's known little kindness and much suffering. He barely remembers how to be a kid."

Damas winced ever so slightly. He let out his breath in a few short puffs, then rocked back on his heels again.

"Jak," he said slowly, "I...apologize if this question is intrusive. But do you have any recollection of your parents from your original timeline?"

The boy's eyes hardened, and he shifted, drawing his knees to his chest in an almost protective gesture.

"No," he said sharply. "I didn't know my parents. Wasn't part of Samos’s plan."

Samos.

The name clearly meant something to the exiled king. Anger flashed briefly through his eyes, warning of an approaching storm.

"Meddling acolyte," Damas muttered under his breath with a vicious curse to punctuate it. "He has much to answer for."

Shaking off the dark look, he tried to settle to something more neutral.

"If that is the case, then we really are starting at the beginning, aren't we? I...understand that we have not yet earned your trust, Jak. But would- that is, would you permit us the chance to do so? To get to know you?"

Jak tightened his arms around his knees and resisted a childish urge to bury his head in them. To hide. This was so much attention, so unlike anything he'd become accustomed to. They weren't treating him like a monster, but they sure weren't treating him like Sandover and the Underground did when he was a "hero", either. No demands, no assumption that he was going to fall in line and see things their way just because they told him it was the right thing to do. Someone was asking for a chance to prove himself to Jak!

Unable to properly form his thoughts into words, Jak bounced one shoulder. It was a silent cue to Daxter, a plea to answer on his behalf. The ottsel sat up and folded his arms with a grimace.

"Is this some kind of trick?" Daxter asked suspiciously. "People don't normally ask -- or care -- what we think. Tess and Sig excluded. They just bark orders at us and complain."

"Sounds like Haven alright," Damas answered dryly. "Let me guess: "go there, do that, fetch this, kill them, everything's all your fault", right?"

Daxter squinted at him. "You sure you only just met us? Cause you're basically reading off our script."

With a humorless smile, Damas shrugged. "Even kings are not exempt from their demands. Or perhaps it is especially kings who are not exempt from their demands."

He looked like he was about to say something else when the breath was driven from him with a loud "oof!"

Mar barreled into him, knocking Damas back onto the sand.

"DADDY DADDY!" Mar's hands shouted, then he flung his arms as far around the man's chest as he could reach -- which wasn't far, frankly.

Damas caught Mar up in a fierce hug, and curled his body around the little boy as though he could hide him from the world.

"Mar! Oh, let me look- let me look at you!"

He smoothed back Mar's hair, traced his fingers along round cheeks, memorizing every detail.

"Sweetheart, you got so big! When did you get so tall?"

Jak was pretty sure it was a rhetorical question, but he couldn’t help answering anyway.

"That's um, that's pretty recent. Just since moving in with the Babak."

He hoped that was at least some comfort to the man. In just the two years they'd been apart, he'd found himself shocked by how much Keira had changed. He couldn’t imagine how hard it would be to miss your own kid's milestones like that.

Well. Maybe he could.

After all, the Explorer he'd called Uncle had traveled so often and so far that Jak had experienced most of his milestones alone.

A small, warm, hand slipped into Jak's and squeezed. He looked up, surprised, to find Mar leaning out of Damas’s arms. Mar was frowning, eyebrows knit together. He pursed his lips and tried several times to make a sound.

"Dz- ss-" he swallowed hard and tried to remember how to use the muscles in his throat. "J- Ja-k?"

Jak's mouth fell open.

He knew Mar preferred to be nonverbal, just as he had been at the same age. Speaking out loud was reserved for when they felt safest. When they were fully comfortable with their surroundings. Mar had never felt safe enough to verbally talk to Jak before.

Are we safe? He's safe now, what about us?

Damas’s eyes widened, and there was a suspicious moisture in Sig’s single eye as they both stared at Mar. They knew Mar Didn't Talk To Strangers. He didn't speak to people who weren't family. Which meant that Mar had fully accepted Jak as family.

Well, that streamlined things a bit.

"Jak's okay, Lil Man," Sig said, clearing his throat. "Just give him time to adjust, okay?"

#jak and daxter #jak and daxter au #jak and daxter mar #splinter cell au #jak and daxter sig #dadmas #king damas #captain phobos #jak's mother #Jak is having an existential crisis and Damas is mentally reconfiguring his house to plan Jak’s new room already #given the general temperament of canon Wastelanders they all probably find his Dark Form fairly endearing #this Damas kept up his training with the monks and is now very glad he did #Jak doesn't know how to deal with this much positive feedback. he's like Megamind #Mar doesn't know what the big deal is and nobody knows how to tell him #things are about to go very poorly for Baron Praxis #writing prompts #fic prompts #free day thursday #long post

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months

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The Detour 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Thor

Summary: You find yourself stranded in a small village.

Part of the Backwoods AU

Note: So this is an idea I had for a while but I just know I wouldn’t get to do it full length for chapters but I hope it’s fun.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

“Hmmm,” Vol tugs on his red beard, wiry white hairs springing up, “looks like when you veered, you snapped part of the axel.”

“What does that mean?” You tap your toe impatiently.

“Well, it means even with a new tire, you won't be driving off into the sunset,” he shrugs and crosses his arms, “fix like this could take a week. If it's fixable. And if I can mend it, it won't hold for long. Likely need a full replacement.”

“You're kidding me,” you scoff.

“Look, it's good business for me but I wish I was,” he slaps the white finish of the car, leaving a grease mark that has your fingers itching.

“So… what do I do?”

“Hmm?” He furrows his thick brows.

“I'm supposed to be in the city tomorrow. I have a tour booked of the Cathedral and I'm supposed to go to the museum–”

“Not too sure about that,” he sniffs.

“It's just a car. Scrap it then. I'll get a rental–”

“From?”

“Pardon?”

“A rental from where? Got them in the city but no rentals here.”

“What– well, surely someone around here would sell me something.”

“Don't think anyone has a spare car hanging about,” he chuckles.

“Are you mocking me?”

“Not at all,” he counters, “just saying.”

“So I'm stuck here?”

“Suppose…”

“You suppose?” You throw your hands up.

“There's accommodation around here. A B&B up near Thunder Lane.”

“How far is that?” You check the time on your watch, not that it matters much.

“On foot, a good forty or so. I can drive you up in about ten,” he offers.

“How much would that be?” You touch your shoulder, realising your purse is in the car.

“None,” he blinks, “I don't mind. I live on the other side.”

“Mm, that's very… kind,” you glance around, “I'll grab my things then. I'll take the night To reconfigure….”

You trail off. You’re certain he doesn't care. You look at your car, still mounted on the jack.

“What do you need, miss? Don't want you to get hurt.”

“Purse is in the front seat, my bags are in the trunk,” you explain.

He nods and turns. The large fleece lined flannel over his coveralls makes him seen even bigger. He pulls open the front door and reaches for your purse. He uses the mechanism on the door to pop the trunk before he comes back around.

He hands you your purse and you wipe the stain from the cream leather. He looks in the back, “you need all these?”

“Just that one,” you step closer and point, “oh and this one.”

“Right,” he hauls out the round valise and the vintage rolling suitcase. “You sure that's enough?”

He faces you with half a smirk.

“Thanks,” you ignore his joke, “frankly, I just want to be in one place. Alone.”

“Of course,” he shuts the trunk roughly and the car bounces, “I gotta lock up before we head out but I'll get the truck nice and warmed up and you can wait in there. How's that?” He looks down at your stilettos, “your feet must be killing you.”

“No,” you say defiantly.

“Ah, well, still, don't want you to stain your fancy clothes in here,” he insists, “come on then.”

🌄

As much as you already abhor this place, you must admit the B&B is adequate. Vol steers up through the gates and along the curved driveway that leads to a marble fountain trimmed with finely kept hedges. He stops before the broad stairs as you peer up at the grand double doors. It could be called a countryside palace.

The mechanic's weight shifts the cabin as he hops out and to your surprise, comes to open your door. You give him a look as you step down, your heels catching in the mosaic stonework. You clutch your purse tight and consider the full expanse of the landscaping.

“I'll get your bags,” he opens the backdoor of the cabin.

“Do they not have a bellhop?”

“Here?” He snorts as he brings out your bags, one in each hand.

“Right,” you accept. The village probably doesn't have the population to staff the immense hotel. “Thank you, sir. You've been very helpful.”

“I can bring them in.”

“Not necessary,” you assure him, “thank you again. I'll call tomorrow about the car.”

“Sure,” he accepts as you latch onto the bags.

The valice brings your arm down sharply as you struggle to yank the wheeled bag closer on the stonework. He made them look much lighter than they are.

“Good night, sir.”

You spin and march off, a janky, awkward gait in your heels as the bag bounces behind you. You get to the steps and look at the top. You ignore the idling truck as you take in the logistics of the ascent. It's only five steps. In these shoes, it may as well be triple.

You rest the valice on the rolling bag and huff. You shake out your arms and hike your purse high on your shoulder. You push down the long handle of the suitcase and instead grab the handle on top, hugging the valice to it as you lift it one step ahead of you.

You plant the wheels and pant, swaying in your heels. The second step is no easier. The third has you stopping a bit longer.

You turn and look at the tow truck and scowl. You wave him off with agitation. He revs and rumbles around the fountain, leaving you.

“Need some assistance?” A baritone thunders over you. You whip around to face the same burly blond as before.

“You!” You exclaim.

“Me,” he grins, “you're having a hard time.”

“No,” you insist.

You snatch the valice and hook it on your elbow. You grab the handle of the suitcase and grunt, dragging it up the steps with all your effort. It jars you dangerously on the top step and nearly has you tipping over.

“Hm, I was only going to offer my help.”

“Don't need it. Thanks,” you snip, “why don't you mind your business?”

“This Is my business,” he snickers, “well, my parents’ still have their names on the deed but it'll be mine soon enough.”

You bat your lashes and roll your eyes, “fine,” you shove your bag against his stomach, hard, “I need a suite. Now.”

He laughs even louder as he grabs onto your valise, “of course, your highness,” he backs up and reaches to open a door, “this way.”

#thor #dark thor #dark!thor #thor x reader #the detour #drabble #series #au #backwoods au #mcu #marvel #avengers

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minecraft-cake · 1 month

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When We Get Home: Main Navigation

A skulk-based minecraft apocalypse au, following the Outlaws Scar and Grian along with various members of the Hermitcraft and Life series servers!

Hello and welcome to my minecraft apocalypse concept! This has been in the works for well over a month or two so far in my personal documents, and I'm happy to finally introduce the first few details. Our first one is a spreadsheet revealing quite a few of the major characters, their infection status, and more! Underneath I'll be explaining the setting and how I've changed up the mechanics of the zombie apocalypse trope just a bit to fit it to minecraft mechanics and my personal taste :].

Status Board:

If there are many changes to this board, it will be updated here! This image may change over time as information is revealed and new chapters come out. For now,

What is the setting?

This is a modern setting, with a minecraft twist! Think of all our modern tech and cities, but with the edition of minecraft mobs and mechanics. Things like government sanctioned hostile mob grinders for citizens to safely gain exp, fully lighted road systems and cities to create safe zones for non pvp oriented citizens, etc. Pretty much everyday normal life but I still want minecraft mobs and items to exist.

What is the "Skulk Virus"?

After the entrance to an ancient ruin was discovered in the outskirts of the capital, a research team was launched to investigate what historians and archaeologists were simply nicknaming “The Deep Dark.” Not long after the team's investigation and boarding off of the location, outbreaks of a deadly virus began to surface in less fortunate areas of the city, soon spreading terribly from hospitals, slaughterhouses, government sanctioned hostile mob farms, and more. The cause of the outbreak was presumed to be the hostile mob exposure that occurred overnight in the research area due to limited lighting budgets, as the black lichen seems to latch onto life force (mobs, nonhostile or otheriwse) to power a possible hivemind. Despite vaccination and quarantine efforts– the original discovery team going as far as to encase “ground zero”’s entrance in concrete –the spread of death did not cease. Once infected, the “skulk” pathogen quickly overwhelms the brain, using the remaining energy to roam and infect living hosts to spread itself. The symptoms of contracting the skulk virus itself are most commonly visibly characterized by large, black abrasions and loss of vocal control, along with active decay of the body. It’s theorized that the skulk may distort and/or reconfigure humanoid vocal chords, which is what causes the chittering and racket-y calls usually produced by infected. The virus can also cause minor bioluminescence and hypermobility. The infected are considered kill-on-sight. The virus controls the body wholly, and any person still conscious will be very unlikely to be autonomous despite vocal claims. It reacts with disturbingly quick instinct, and will rush toward any distinctive indicator of human life. An infected is most dangerous at its earliest stages, as their sense of sight, smell, and taste have not yet deteriorated and the virus has more ways to approximate the location of future host bodies.

Are there surviving settlements?

There were two main shifts at the start of the end of the world: the prolificacy of death, and the human sense of organization.

With the outbreak overwhelming major cities and spreading over oceans, Sanctuaries were made out of minor settlements to create safe areas. Usually dictated by some sort of warden, Sanctuaries are walled off communities that vow to be virus-free, safe places to harbor a semi-normal life. They have strict rules, even minor theft or endangerment is not tolerated, and all communities usually fight in groups of four or more. By law, anyone who endangers a Sanctuary is considered Outlawed. They are banned from all Sanctuaries, and their Outlawed status is documented on public forums on a digital record, along with their bounty. While death is not normally encouraged, Outlawed citizens are the exception. Most consider their removal a comfort, whether for revenge, or to deter others from defecting from the Sanctuary, but Outlaws are never kill-on-sight. For anyone hunting an Outlaw, the capture must be returned alive to the Sanctuary they were originally expelled from to face execution. This is to avoid fraud, as payment is usually given in a dedicated flow of supplies and armor to the hunter from any affiliated Sanctuary.

Outlaw hunters are incredibly rare, and incredibly dangerous to encounter. Many have vowed strongly to protect Sanctuaries, and view anyone outside them as a threat regardless of their legal status. If you are not Outlawed, you are likely to be killed by a hunter to prevent the future endangerment of a Sanctuary.

Fun Fact: Most of our main characters are Outlawed!

Like I said, this story will heavily follow the adventures of our two main Outlaws, Scar and Grian! It's going to deal with some pretty complicated relationships as well. I'll be taking my time to write these chapters thoughtfully and thoroughly.

We will have long term plotlines with a few of the characters on the board (and some that have been blocked out to avoid major spoilers), so stay tuned! I'd love to answer questions about the au if you guys have any :]. Feel free to check out Scar's Cassette Playlist up on my pinned! It's the music that was left downloaded on his phone when the apocalypse hit and most proper internet connections were severed.

#wwgh au #grian #gtwscar #desert duo #hermitcraft au #life series au #hermitcraft #3lsmp #dlsmp #llsmp #llsmp2 #i wont be maintagging the fandom much after this post. just getting it out there for the main introduction!#cake.crafts

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celestiall0tus · 8 months

Note

Let's wrap up the paradise set with the butterfly, the only miraculous aside from the ladybug that has appeared in every au.

Oh shit, you right. Damn. Alright, Butterfly of Transformation, let's go.

Also noticing how the butterfly tends to stay in the Agreste family and extended family

Pimp Gabriel Agreste, aka Papillon was first in this all with Miraculous AU. His lesser power is known as Diminish, which infects a host and twists and distorts their darkest emotions, blowing them out of proportion. And of course his greater power is the Akumas.

Activation Phrases

Transformation: "Nooroo, Wings Rise"

Lesser Power: Diminish

Greater Power: Akuma

This bitch a piece of work with Colt Fathom (However he doesn't quite hold a candle to another certain butterfly) as Emperor in Salvation. Colt is among the Avatars and gets four powers, which are: mutation inducement, construct creation, mental manipulation, and transmutation. In his Avatar form, he gains the ability of reconfiguration and amalgamation.

Activation Phrases

Transformation: None/Innate

Power: None/Innate

I think of all the truly villainous butterflies, this bitch is the most twisted and broken. Nathalie Sancoeur as Papillon in Absolution. I'm back to make some alterations to this bitch's powers. So, her transmutation power is "downgraded (upgraded?)" to her passive power. Her main power will all into the vein of mental manipulation.

Activation Phrases

Transformation: "Nooroo, Wings Rise"

Power: Alter

Oh, look! The only Butterfly holder that isn't a villain. What are the odds? Anyway, Adrien Agreste is Iris in Separate Worlds. Their passive is being reworked. Their main power is transmutation.

Activation Phrases

Transformation: "Nooroo, Wings Rise"

Power: None/Innate

What butterfly listing here would be complete without the whole family? (Not counting Amelie rn). Emilie Agreste as Echidna in Paradise. Her power is transmutation as the other butterflies, but would almost fall in line with the type of butterfly that Nathalie is, just not as dark and broken.

Activation Phrases

Transformation: "Nooroo, Wings Rise"

Power: Mold

Can... can it be? Another good butterfly holder? What are the odds? Anyway, this is Nathalie from All That Remained as Faerie. Her power won't be what it is in the show, but the ability to transform objects and matter into other things. Basically transmutation.

Activation Phrases

Transformation: "Nooroo, Wings Rise"

Power: Alter

Another good butterfly? Holy shit! And, yes, this one does still count as an Agreste but a technicality. Marinette Dupain-Cheng in Siren's Song as Iridescent. Her power will be Transmutation, like all the other butterflies before her, but more in the vein of Salvation!Colt with being able to transform objects and people. Though I suppose the same for Absolution!Nathalie and Paradise!Emilie.

Activation Phrases

Transformation: "Nooroo, Wings Rise"

Power: Alter

Don't mind me cackling in the corner over big baddie Adrien as Adonis in Amaranthine. Like the rest of the butterflies, his power is transmutation. Much on par with Absolution!Papillon and Salvation!Colt.

Activation Phrases

Transformation: "Nooroo, Wings Rise"

Power: None/Innate

Zoe steals away the butterfly from the Agrestes in Court of Miracles. She is among the Lowborns and has a very limited range of power(s), which include:

Transmuation

Activation phrases: None/Innate

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sleepyowlwrites · 1 year

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FTWT CCCLCVII

I'm gonna mention what I'm listening to as I do this tag because I want to. stick-pricked by @talesofsorrowandofruin and @akindofmagictoo

gasp Cry of the Celts by Ronan Hardiman (phantasm, 2020)

I laughed to see you so larger than life and you leaned back and I gasped told you not to lose your grip on the chains holding you up hang there a minute while my feet find the ground but instead you echoed in spirals while you shrank from my sight

obscure The Mummers' Dance by Loreena McKennitt (city story d0)

The bloodstain is obscuring the small print on the front of his shirt. Jet’s not the sort to care about ruined clothing, but today he lets it fill him with rage as he catches the next thrown punch and yanks down on the arm attached, bringing his elbow up to smash into the face that yaws closer to him.

“This is my favorite shirt,” he complains, kicking out one of the guy’s legs and driving his knee into the small of his back. The guy lands with a thud, face stuck in an expression of surprise while he tries to regain his breath.

encourage Storms in Africa Pt.II by Enya (The Illusion, 2011)

I ran, with whatever reserves remained in my exhausted body. My legs felt like twigs, bending and about to break each time my feet met the ground. Verain ran alongside me now, flashing me an encouraging smile, one hand on my elbow to propel me forward when I slackened. Finally, we made it to a ford. Torash jumped down into the shallow water. Verain pushed me in after him. With one hand from each guiding me across the slippery rocks, we made it to the opposite side and staggered out of the water.

My mind registered the fact that we were climbing more roots, from the large trees that grew often alongside flowing water. Their root systems held the banks together and provided us with opportunity not to make footprints in the mud for our trackers. What did it matter, I thought, since I don't have any feet? But then I had to concentrate on staying upright, even with the help of my companions.

candle (summon story d0)

Zan jumped and nearly fell over when out of nowhere, something fell from the roof and landed in front of the two of them. He immediately placed himself in front of Shae, who sighed in frustration and elbowed him.

“Calm down,” she muttered. And then, louder, “This is Grimes.”

The something reconfigured its shape, bones aligning and smoky mass solidifying into somewhat recognizable form underneath the long coat it wore without flesh to support it. Dark red flames like tips of candles served as eyes in the skull that stared back at him. And Zan was staring. Indeed, this was some sort of possessed skeleton, a kind of creature he’d never heard of and wouldn’t have dreamed up if he’d wanted to.

legend Dance of the Druids by Karliene (youth story au)

Not every student stays here for the same period. A couple of them have been here so long they became teachers. Or maybe they have memory issues and might have graduated but they were phasing while they were trying to leave the school and on that particular day there was storm interference and they ended up losing like, all their memories and also can no longer sustain their own form by themselves.

That one isn’t me. Nyks’ story is known by everybody. Nobody talks to him, despite him being practically a living legend now. He has me, though. And speaking of.

“Nyks! You’re here. In the hallway. Are you going to class?”

Nyks brushes his shoulder on mine and slips right through. Even though this has happened before I still shiver. He hugs the book he’s holding closer to his chest and looks up at me. Only slightly, because Nyks is also tall, but smaller when he’s drooped over like this.

rise Resolve by Nathan Lanier (taste of summer, 2019)

Honeycomb and moonshine Watermelon skies Nightingale and rooster Sun always eager to rise Arms up in the morning Feet down every night Comfort in the blankets under stars After twilight

rain Boudica by Karliene (she is ocean blue, 2015)

She is a moment She is a single drop of rain Just a flightless feather Drifting alone on the grassy plain

She is a molecule She is the universe A string of notes that hold their own Against the weighty verse

real (a sketch, bold lines, chromatic, 2021)

my heart is here, on my sleeve, right next to my elbow. I keep it in a plastic bag so it doesn’t get wet, but you can see it. it’s real, and pulsing, and the love can come out of it just fine. love is not tangible, you see, unless it has already left the heart in which case I can put it in my hands and lay them on your cheeks and then it is very tangible in so far as you will allow yourself to feel it.

ring Marble Halls by Enya (I Met a Horse in the Silent Dark, 2012)

My legs are weary and trembling I can't find a way to walk And when I try remembering I forgot that I cannot talk

A silver ring on my finger Shines in a sudden light A lantern far away glimmers And I can run away into the night

I gotta stop doing two blue friends at the same time. horizon, bend, believe, hope. BONUS: generous, gravitate.

@ettawritesnstudies @thegreatobsesso @drippingmoon @writeblrfantasy @livvywrites @vsnotresponding @zoya-writes OR ANYBODY

#find the word tag

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flowerbarrel-art · 4 months

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New Boss

#Alan Becker #AvA #AvA 6 #Screenshot edit #TDL #Dark #Ballista #Agent #Primal #Exit #Reconfigured Dark AU

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casitafallz · 1 year

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Shifter AU | Taken from Home

“There’s no divergent-born in this AU, at least not one that I can tell.” the man spoke, examining his data tablet with a frown to the new dot that appeared “but we need a gifted. Should we just do a flash and grab one of the younger ones?”

“Flash and grabs doesn’t work in magical rooms, dipshit.” The second man spoke, “The Casita will raise the alarms immediately as soon as we step foot out the short-ranger teleporter anywhere else. Have you seen the Casita be creative in the name of defence?”

“No?”

“You don’t. I once watched one Casita fire a tile off like a bullet to take out a man who had a Molotov. It didn’t just kill him, they had to bury the poor soul with the tile in his back.” The second man shook his head, “Look, the best option would be to go to the nursery.”

“We don’t need a Mirabel. She’s useless.” The first one complained, “Nothing special about her in this world. There’s an AU that had baby triplets, we could get them? Leave the red-head baby behind but the healer and the seer would be more useful for Mimic and Sway.”

“I’m not dealing with new-born babies.” The most likely case was he’d probably end up dropping it on it’ head given he wasn’t at all paternal. Babies were easy targets but delicate and these sorts of missions there would bound to be mess; he didn’t need infant-blood on his hand…or puke or shit on him either. At least kids had some control over themselves.

Kids were useful for Mimic and Sway.

The man knew this would ruin the family but… he didn’t feel too much to care. The Watchers had pruned his own world into nothing. Few survivors. It wasn’t fair some worlds got a proper evacuation or… that the magic just protected madrigals. So what if a child or Madrigal went missing for the greater good? No worse than what the Watchers did to recruit for their numbers. He had seen how a loving warmth of motherly love: Julieta Madrigal was turned into a soldier—a weapon of war. The Watchers were far worse because they made their new recruits think they had a choice.

This was kinder.

“So what? We use that world? This world isn’t fully registered yet; it’s unsafe to travel to and from without proper configuration of the quantum signature.” They did have a short window to intercept before the Watchers sent their own data collection done for Intel on the nature of this AU.

“I know,” the second man replied, “We use a portal entry way to get assess and get reconfigured to leave which will take time, I can do that since it’s my speciality. To get the gifted, you use a short-range teleport into the nursery, grab the kid and be out back to our spot before anyone else gets to the door.”

“Which kid would it be?”

“Hopefully the shifter kid, that’s an incredibly versatile gift to have in our job.” He couldn’t stop the slight envy in his voice; the Madrigals got to have magic and gifts; he wished he could have that as well. “He and Mirabel are twins, so it’s likely they still share that space”

“We don’t engage the strong girl at all.”

“Agreed.” The near-adult with super strength was the one they knew to avoid; it wasn’t worth it without the appropriate weapons.

The first man rose to his feet, setting the tablet down and plucked up the rifle before putting it back down in favour of the glock. Far smaller and didn’t need both hands. He pulled out the magazine, double checking the bullets before securing it back in and clipped the security back on.

“Let’s go and set up.”

It was a dark night in Casita, lights were blown out and the Madrigals were all asleep before the clock hit 3 am. Casita didn’t move in almost a form of slumber itself, the candle twinkling in the night and barely the wind shifted the shutters. Encanto was dark as well, a few lights on for those still awake but not uncommon.

In the nursery, Antonio’s bed laid empty with his blanket half off the mattress while the toddler having escaped his new bed in favour of his cousin’s; enjoying the warmth of her arms and the comfort of being held that kept him in the world of sleep.

Peaceful.

Normal, even. It was often his mother would find him in Mirabel’s bed and take effort to untangle the thirteen year old and three year old away before she had to get him up for the day but it was always an adorable sight to behold, even if the wake-up made the toddler grumpy.

The peacefulness didn’t last for much longer before a bright flash filled the nursery before heavy feet landed upon the wooden floor and immediately went to the smaller bed before realising the owner was not in it and spun unevenly as Casita’s floor began to rattle at the intrusions, tiles shifted and doors began to clatter.

“What-casita?” The voice of the girl pulled the man’s attention around to see the thirteen year old siting up awake and alert before she gasped out. “No!”

Mirabel dove from her covers towards the direction the opening door, a younger child in arms that was the target but the man reacted faster to his holster, his gun raised and his finger squeezing the trigger before the echo clapped like thunder making the intruder’s ears ring… but the girl dropped off the end of her bed, barely getting far at all. Blood pool from her head and lay unresponsive as the toddler began to scream

“No you don’t!” The man yanked the kid up into his arms, impressed at the toddlers attempts to wiggle free before he shoved the kid head first into the bag he had over his shoulder and grabbed his ticket out of there.

“ANTONIO!”

“MIRABEL!”

The dual cries of the first two to reach the nursery were gone as he threw down the teleporter and was swept away before they could make it two steps in.

#shifter au #drabble #encanto #encanto au #shifter antonio #mirabel madrigal #julieta madrigal #pepa madrigal #camilo madrigal #dolores madrigal #shifter mirabel #shifter julieta #shifter pepa #shifter camilo #shifter dolores #kidnapping tw #blood tw #injury tw #antonio madrigal

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