#added a version without the lighting effects so people can see the blues of his outfit
Text
My Lady
Characters:
Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader
Summary:
It is Tony's birthday party and everyone's required to wear their best formal attire, and when you did, you caught the attention of James Buchanan Barnes.
Warning:
None
You take a look at yourself in the mirror one last time before you make your way downstairs for Tony's birthday party.
You stared at your reflection. You are wearing a black halter neck satin long dress with high slit, approved by Wanda and Nat. You're still unsure if it fits you since it's not your thing to wear this kind of outfit, but for the sake of Tony's birthday party you have no choice but to endure it.
"Come on, y/n, you've been up here for quite a while now! You're missing the fun down there," Wanda said as soon as she entered your room.
You grabbed your clutch and go after Wanda.
The moment the elevator stopped in the floor where the party is, you asked Wanda one last time about your look.
She faced you and held you on both of your arms, "You're perfect! You should wear outfits like that more often," she said.
You groaned, "It's not as if I could wear this in a mission," you joked.
The elevator opened and Wanda went up walking ahead of you. You stepped out of the elevator and you immediately roamed your eyes around the party.
You saw your friends mingling around with other guests. Tony and Pepper are talking with Fury and Maria, while Nat and Bruce are in the bar area talking, more like flirting. Your eyes continue to roam around until you saw a familiar pair of blue eyes.
He looks dashing in that tuxedo he's wearing, his hair look so neat, his beard is gone and he is so cleaned up. You never thought he'd follow the advice you gave him when he asked you about what shall he do for Tony's party. You told him that he should get rid of his beard just for this night, and he did.
Before he set his eyes on you, you saw him having a conversation with Sam and Steve but the moment he saw you, his eyes never left yours.
You and Bucky has always been friends, but you are both aware that you like each other more than that.
You walked your way to the party without removing your eyes from him, and he did the same thing. His gaze is following you, wherever you go and whatever you'll do. It's not long enough when Sam and Steve noticed that Bucky is not paying attention to both of them anymore. So when they saw that it was you who made their friend drift away from them, they gave Bucky a chance to talk and approach you.
But before he could do that, Pepper saw you.
"Y/n! Wow! You look amazing," Pepper said as she make her way to approach you, alongside with Tony, Fury, and Maria.
"I didn't see that in your old closet. Wow!" you don't know if the the birthday boy, Tony Stark, is mocking you or he's just being himself, "I bet a lot of guys will make a move on you tonight." he added.
Tony hated the idea of men being so fond of you because he knows how Bucky will react about it. Last time, he and Steve needed to call for glass and floor replacement after Bucky's outburst.
Well, you don't care about those guys, who you care about is the man you were having staring contest with a few seconds ago.
"But seriously, you look amazing, y/n," Pepper said as she gave your arms a light squeeze.
You smiled at her, "Thanks Pep!" Then you turn to Tony, who you haven't greeted yet, "Happy birthday Tony."
"Thanks! But you should start making your way to Nat and Bruce who's been flirting around since the party started," he commented as he points his finger towards the bar area.
You left Tony, Pepper, Fury, and Maria, making your way to Bruce and Nat.
"You know, Tony has been complaning about the two of you flirting and flirting nonstop," you made your presence noticed as you sit on the stool beside Nat.
Nat and Bruce turned to you.
"Woah! What a transformation, y/n," Nat said as soon as she turned the stool that she is sitting on to face you.
You rolled your eyes at her and asks for the bartender for a drink.
"Why don't you use this night to have your heart to heart confession with the white wolf?" Nat asked you, referring to you and Bucky.
You glared at her and reminded her that Bruce can also hear her, "Thanks for the advice, but no."
You and Bucky has been going around the bush for quite some time now, you are aware that everybody is starting to notice that. Not to mention whenever Bucky is being an old man whenever he will see other guys talking to you. And you are completely agitated when you see girls are trying to flirt with him.
"Come on!" Nat groaned, "Everybody's aware of you and Bucky's "hidden feelings that is not so hidden" for each other," she added.
You're about to answer Nat's sentiments when Bruce decided to side with her as well, "We are all aware of it since the first time we saw how furious Bucky was when you and that intern from Stark Industries asked you on a date. He almost break the window for checking if you got home already," he said as he took a glance at you, "And you were also like the female version of my green monster friend whenever girls will approach Bucky and ask to take a picture with him."
You can't believe Nat and Bruce are teaming up against you.
"You guys are unbelievable," you turned to the bartender when your drink arrived, but you noticed that it isn't the drink you ordered, "Excuse me, I did not order for this one."
The bartender is not bothered by your complain, so when you're about to ask the bartender to change your order, someone spoke behind you.
"You're not allowed to drink any alcoholic beverage tonight," you heard that familiar voice.
You take a look at Nat and Bruce who are giving you an ear-to-ear smile.
(Yeah, that kind of smile.)
You took a deep breath as you spin your stool and face the man who forbids you to drink an alcoholic drink, "And may I know why?" you asked the blue-eyed dashing man in front of you, the Bucky Barnes.
"Because," he took a step closer to you as he rest his arms on the bar countertop while facing you, "The last time you had one, I needed to clean up the mess you've made from the elevator up to your room."
The night he was referring to was during Pepper and Tony's engagement party. You're so happy for them to the point that you and Wanda became the number one customers of the bar that night.
"We'll leave the two of you," you heard Bruce said behind you.
Bucky moved to the seat where Nat was sitting a few moments ago.
"Why are you here?" you asked him as you turn your seat around again to face him, "You were having a conversation with Sam and Steve and just because you saw me, you left them. I mist say, I'm flattered but..."
"You look perfect," he said, stopping you from finishing your sentence.
Your eyes met his gaze again and your heart started to pump as fast as it could, you thought you were having a heart attack but you realized that it's the effect of Bucky being near you.
You felt his gand grabbed yours and that delivered an electric shock through your veins, "I should've brought my gun, so when guys try to make a move on you, I will just shot them right through their eyes."
He was just kidding but you felt how concern and protective he is to you.
You liked that feeling. No, you actually love that feeling — whenever you see him ready to rip off any man's head when they are making a move towards you, whenever you feel his care when you are not in your usual mood, whenever you are not in a good state of mind, he's there for you.
It makes you happy, but it also makes you sad, knowing that you have no idea what kind of relationship you both have. You want to become selfish when girls are trying to flirt with Bucky, but after every time you call them out, you kept on thinking what is your right to stop and forbid them from flirting with him.
"Buck," you called him and then you sighed, "I know this isn't the right time to talk about this, but I'm already sick and tired of hearing the same old question that is being thrown upon me that I can't even answer even in my mind."
His brows furrowed, "What question?" he asked.
"The what's with you and me. The what are you and Bucky question. The are you guys together kind of question. 'Cause honestly, I'm tired of hearing it from our friends, and I hate to admit it but that's also the same question I have for us," you looked down as you feel embarrassed of the things you are telling him. You sounded like a needy girl who wants to know what you are in this boy's life, "I'm sorry to bring this all up right now, but I can't help it."
When you looked up to him, he was just staring at you, which pisses you off a bit.
"Come on, Bucky. Stop acting like you don't know what I am talking about." you kept your voice calm and low since you don't want to be noticed by the other guests around you, "I am certain about my feelings, but you, I have no idea what's going on in your mind. You take care of me. You feel responsible for me. You hate it when I wear too revealing clothes. You don't like the idea of me going out with other men. Tony, Nat, Bruce, and the rest of our friends kept on telling me that I'm hell of a lucky woman for catching your eyes, but they have no idea how confusing my position is. I have no idea who and what I am to you."
You were stunned by your own words. You did not see yourself exploding tonight. You feel embarrassed of all the unexpected things you bantered to Bucky, you decided to walk away from him.
You have no where else to pass by but the dance floor. You excused yourself from the people dancing, but you were in the middle of the dancefloor when you felt a hand on your wrist.
As you turn around to face the owner of the hand who grabbed your wrist, you realized that it is a vibranium hand and the only person who have that kind of left hand is the person you walked away from.
Your eyes trailed from your wrist up to Bucky's face.
"So you're just gonna leave me hanging?" he suddenly asked you.
You clicked your tongue and shook your head, "Bucky, I'm sorry for my sudden outburst, okay? Just forget everything that I said," you were about to walk away again when he suddenly pulled you towards him and claim your lips with his.
You lost your senses the moment his lips dance with your lips. You know that people are noticing both of you, especially you are in the middle of the dancefloor but you didn't care. You thought that this is the best answer they'll get to all the unanswered questions they've given you for the past months about you and Bucky.
When he let go of your lips, he cupped your face and you received the most unexpected answer from him.
"I love you," he said in the passionate way he could.
All you need is a straight answer from him, but what he gave you is much much more than that.
"I've realized this a long time ago. I just didn't know how to tell you. I can't find the right words to tell you this. I don't know how to tell you my feelings without being a dumb douchebag, but even if I look like a dumb douchebag right now, I don't care. All I care is you being aware of how I truly feel for you, and I'm sorry if it took some time before I could finally say it," he said while his hands are still in your cheeks.
Now you realized why you clearly heard every word he said, the music stopped and everyone's attention is with both of you. In short, they all heard Bucky's confession.
You roamed your eyes around and you see all of the guests, including your friends, watching and staring at you and Bucky, like you are the main attraction in the circus or something.
"Now is the perfect time for you to say something," you heard Bucky said, making you look at him again.
You smiled at him as you grabbed his two hands from your cheeks.
"I love you too," you finally said it.
He didn't wait for anything, he pulled you towards him and gave you another kiss. Not long enough, you felt his arms around you, giving you the warmest hug he could ever give.
You heard people around you cheering for both of you. They've been waiting for this, but little did they know, you were also waiting for this for a long time now.
"About dang time!" you heard Sam yelled.
"Oh come on, it's not as if we didn't expect them to do this anytime soon," Tony being a jerk as always, but you know he's happy for you and Bucky, "Don't forget it's my birthday!" he joked.
When Bucky let go of you, he extended his hand towards you, "My lady?" he asked, waiting for you to give your hand to him.
You smiled at him as you gave your hand to him, "My love."
-v.dl
#Bucky Barnes#bucky barnes imagine#Bucky Barnes x you#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes fanfiction#marvel imagine#marvel
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Mnemonic
This is an AU version of a standalone scene from Cantata that I rewrote with kissing. Because there was a lot of UST and I am weak.
Ao3
14 June 2180, Hades Gamma, Farinata System, SSV Myeongnyang
For a biotic, the armor never really comes off. What they carry under their skin is like a live wire, a current always in need of grounding.
Standing face-to-face with half a dozen L2 biotics holding the chairman of the Parliament Subcommittee for Transhuman Studies hostage on the MSV Ontario makes it a lot easier for Kaidan to see how much he takes for granted having a safe place to do it. And knowing how.
Reparations for the L2 side effects are a pipe dream. But a pipe dream Colin Daggett and his people needed to cling to, whatever the cost. And it had almost cost them everything.
Shepard doesn’t say much as they arrange for the survivors to be transferred to the Madrid’s brig and the engineering crew arrives to secure the Ontario for the trip to Arcturus. He says even less on the way through the airlock back to the ‘Yang, and the rest of the squad take their lead from him.
When they’re back on board the ship he disappears, sucking the air out of the room with him. They kit down without him.
“You’re an L2, aren’t you?” Pendergrass asks as she shoves her arms through the sleeves of her uniform, armor plating in a heap at her feet.
Beaudoin jabs her with an elbow.
“Yeah,” Kaidan murmurs, fingers tracing the amp port on the back of his neck when he removes the protection plate. He flexes his fingers, gravity well jumping into his touch. As he reaches for his chest plate to store it in his gear locker, an electric shock passes through him.
When 23:00 rolls around, Kaidan shows up in the mess as usual, figuring he’ll keep it simple tonight and just make some pasta. Shepard is there waiting, as usual, picking at a spot on the table while Kaidan pulls out a pot and finds a container of pasta. The entire time the water boils Shepard doesn’t say a word, stubbornly lost in thought.
Kaidan tells himself he’s not going to do more than olive oil and garlic – it’s been too long of a day for effort – but by the time he gets it to the table there’s parmesan cheese, parsley, and even a little red pepper in the mix.
“You going to tell me what’s up, or do I get to guess?” Kaidan asks when he sits down across from him and hands off a fork. He spent too much energy on going above and beyond with the red pepper to bother with a second bowl. They’ll just have to share.
Shepard looks up, almost in surprise. “Just thinking.”
“You’ve been thinking ever since you got Chairman Burns through the airlock. Maybe you should think out loud.”
The gravity well churns as Shepard stirs eddies in it, in tune with the twirl of his fork in the pasta bowl. “Everything that happened on that ship hinged on what Daggett did with his pistol.”
His toying intensifies, until blue energy shimmers around his knuckles. This one’s been chewing at him. A snap of electricity skips between his finger and the fork, and he drops it with an annoyed mutter. He looks up.
“You pulled the gun out of his hands,” he says.
And Shepard had put a bullet between his eyes. The fight had gone out of the rest pretty quickly.
“He wasn’t going to put it down,” Kaidan says. “We all knew it.”
“No. He wasn’t. And if you hadn’t been there, that standoff turns into a clusterfuck where everyone dies.”
A soft smile tugs at Kaidan’s lips. “Guess it’s a good thing I was there.”
Shepard picks up the fork again, staring at it with an unfocused gaze before he stabs it back in the bowl and twirls more pasta.
“I couldn’t have done what you did. I can’t refine a field like that. I was prepared to shoot everyone in that room. But you pulled the gun right out of his hands.”
Only because Shepard had given him the chance. Whether Shepard had done it with purpose or actually hesitated is a question he hasn’t been in a hurry to examine too closely.
“We work together, remember? In case you hadn’t noticed, we’ve gotten pretty good at it.”
Shepard huffs. “Yeah. We have.”
“But you’re just gonna get bent out of shape about not being able to do everything yourself, anyway.”
“Have you met me?” Shepard says with a helpless shrug.
“Yeah, I’ve had the pleasure,” Kaidan says with a chuckle. He pushes his chair back. “Come on, then.”
Shepard casts him a suspicious look. “Come where?”
“To the gym.”
“Alenko—”
“Come on.” He nods towards the elevator and starts walking, smirking a little when Shepard’s chair scrapes against the floor and his feet hit the deckplates.
“You’re just dying to give me a taste of my own medicine, aren’t you,” Shepard grouches when they board the lift.
“Oh, definitely.”
“You’re the worst.”
“Apparently not when it comes to taking people’s pistols out of their hands.”
Shepard chuckles, though he tries to choke off a smile by looking down at his feet. When they get to the gym Kaidan digs a canteen out of his locker and sets it down on one of the sparring mats.
“I’m guessing that your training didn’t include a lot of control drills,” he says.
Shepard shakes his head. “Tulak wasn’t big on control. Overwhelming tidal force tends to be the krogan approach.”
“You don’t say.”
“Sarcasm does not become you, Alenko.”
Kaidan grins and points to the canteen. “Start simple. Just lift it off the ground.”
Shepard rolls his eyes, but taps into the gravity well, corona enveloping him in a shroud of snapping blue tendrils. The hairs on Kaidan’s arms stand on end.
It’s so rare he gets to just watch Shepard work. All unrestrained power, from the loose, angry snarl of his corona to the sweeping mnemonics, make him seem larger than life. When he swipes the canteen off the floor he does it with his entire arm. The canteen leaps into the air, nearly hitting the ceiling before Shepard wrangles it. He only holds it still for half a second before sending it skidding to the other side of the gym.
“Hm,” Kaidan says.
Shepard gives him a withering look before marching off to fetch the wayward canteen. “It’s small. I don’t do well with small.”
“Not sure the size trips you up as much as you think it does,” Kaidan muses. “That mnemonic of yours applies some pretty impressive force automatically, so you’re already playing catch up if you’re trying to control the speed or direction.”
“See, I can’t tell if you’re complimenting me or giving me shit.”
“Both.”
“Har.”
Shepard resets the canteen and comes back to Kaidan to try it again, standing close but not so close their fields intersect. Kaidan watches through three variations that all end almost the same way, too much force being applied to the canteen, making it nearly impossible for Shepard to control where it goes, or where it doesn’t.
Doesn’t matter that he’s not accomplishing what it intends. The way the gravity well cants under his touch, the way his corona lights him ablaze like a flickering star, the way it caresses every nerve in Kaidan’s body like a swash of silk is mesmerizing. Kaidan swallows before trying to speak.
“Good news is, if we ever need someone to punt a suspicious canteen into space, I know who to call.”
Shepard rolls his eyes. “And if you’re not around to yank pistols out of terrorist hands?”
“Well, first, I will be around. But second, as for the pistol, yanking it towards you isn’t so different from kicking it away from you.” He cracks a grin. “In your case you just need to be prepared to duck.”
“Have I mentioned that separating the pistol from the person holding it wouldn’t end well for anyone?” Shepard says. “If you were to go hold that canteen in your palm and ask me to do what I just did, you wouldn’t like me very much.”
I doubt that.
“One problem at a time,” Kaidan says. “Let’s work on controlling the canteen by itself, then we’ll add clutter.”
“And how do you suggest we do that?”
“You need a new mnemonic. You’re fighting yourself by adding force and trying to take it away at the same time.”
“I’m sensing a metaphor.”
Kaidan smirks. “Think that says more about you than it does me.” Before Shepard can protest he raises an arm. “Watch me. You don’t have to use my mnemonic, but I want you to see something different so you can visualize it.”
Shepard folds his arms across his chest, but does what Kaidan asks. A nervous thrill runs through him at the undivided attention.
Kaidan waves a wrist, a hard-learned, hard-fought mnemonic that now feels as natural as breathing. Dark energy rushes through him, responsive and willing, as his fingers flex and settle a field over the canteen. Very little mass-shifting needed to pick up a light-weight canteen, which makes it tricky to keep from doing exactly what Shepard did – send it spinning out of control. But Kaidan has spent years perfecting his ability to do exactly this, so the canteen rises off the floor until it reaches eye level. Kaidan closes his fist and holds it still, floating almost motionless in mid-air.
“That mnemonic is so damned subtle,” Shepard says with an appreciative shake of his head. A flush builds at the back of Kaidan’s neck.
“Easier for me that way.”
Shepard grunts and unfolds his arms. “I was never good at levitation.”
“Because your mnemonics always apply force.”
“Need force to yank that pistol.”
“Sure, but if you want to control it, you need to learn how to hold it still.”
“I’m not good at still.”
“I know,” Kaidan says, lips curving into a smile. “So come here and let me show you.”
Shepard strays a step closer into Kaidan’s biotic field. The blend of auras creates a low keen through his nerves, familiar but always striking. The canteen wavers before falling to the ground.
“Sorry,” Shepard mumbles, but doesn’t back away.
“It’s fine,” Kaidan says, lifting the canteen again with another float of his palm.
Their eyes lock for a moment before Shepard clears his throat and looks down at Kaidan’s hand.
“You put everything in your wrist.”
“Yeah,” he manages. “You do it all with your arms.”
“Yeah.”
“So maybe, if you’re looking for finesse, try to create a mnemonic that’s a little, uh, smaller.”
“With my wrist.”
“Right. Um, I’ll show you. Here.” He steps in front of Shepard, angling his body to align their right arms. He takes Shepard’s right hand guides it to his wrist, tingle running down his spine when his fingers close around it. Shepard glances at him with soft eyes that stop the breath in his throat, but doesn’t object.
“Hands-on teacher?”
“Best way to learn,” Kaidan replies, gaze flicking to Shepard’s mouth before going back to the canteen. “Just follow my lead. Don’t act on the canteen. Concentrate on what my arm does. Visualize it.”
“Sure,” Shepard murmurs.
Kaidan reaches into the gravity well, his own corona unfurling, a steady candle to Shepard’s flaring torch. Goosebumps rise on Shepard’s arm, a subtle reminder that he’s human after all, one Kaidan is almost never close enough to witness.
He takes a deep breath and flexes his wrist, Shepard’s fingers loose and feather-light against his skin. A crackle of dark energy passes between them before he snares the canteen and turns his wrist palm-up to lift it off the floor, Shepard close enough his breath washes over Kaidan’s cheek. The canteen wavers but Kaidan keeps it afloat for several seconds, the mingle of auras, ripple of kinetic energy and closeness of Shepard enough to make him dizzy.
He lets it go with a clatter and puts space between them.
“Does that help?” he asks, trying not to sound breathless.
“Yeah. It does.” Shepard’s gaze stays on him, still and steady. “Might take a while to hard-wire my brain for something in the wrist.”
“Doesn’t have to be that. It could be something else. But you associate those big movements with force. Take that away, you might have more luck with leaving velocity out of the initial execution, so you can add it how you need it. Have more control over it.”
Shepard’s mouth crooks in a half-smile. “Sure I’m not a lost cause when it comes to control?”
“I’m sure.”
Shepard breaks his gaze and focuses on the canteen, brow furrowed in concentration. Twice he catches himself using his arm, then nearly wrenches his wrist trying to restrict the movement.
“It’s so ingrained,” he says with a shake of his head.
“That’s why they work,” Kaidan says with a smile. “Here.” He steps close once again, positions reversed with his hand on Shepard’s wrist this time. “Let me help.”
“Fuck, your hands are cold,” Shepard says with a laugh.
Hastily, he loosens his grip. “Sorry.”
“No, it’s fine,” Shepard says with a grin. “Go on.”
Gently, Kaidan closes his fingers again. Shepard trains his eyes on the canteen, though they dart to Kaidan ever so briefly.
Shepard’s corona is so bright, so fierce, it’s a wonder he can wrangle it at all. Kaidan breathes in deep, letting his own kindle, the snick and crackle as they blend together forming a resonant hum that hovers just under his skin.
When Shepard’s arm moves, Kaidan tightens his grip, keeping the motion small. Instead of his usual languid, fluid posture, Shepard’s arm is stiff and resistant against him. The canteen spins in a circle but stays on the ground.
“Breathe, Shepard,” Kaidan says softly. “Just let it happen.”
Shepard inhales deep, like someone trying to relearn how. This time they move together, Kaidan picking up the slack when Shepard falters, until the canteen hovers briefly in the air. It’s more under Kaidan’s control than Shepard’s, but it’s a start, and that’s what matters.
They gutter out and the canteen falls, but Kaidan doesn’t let go and doesn’t step away, not yet, not quite yet, not while the remnants of kinetic energy are still sharp in the air and he has to remind himself to breathe, too.
“How do you do that?” Shepard murmurs. “You worked around me, without…taking over. How do you do that?”
Their eyes lock for just a moment. God Kaidan could get lost there if he’s not careful. “Practice. Years of it.”
Let go.
He means to. He means to. In his head he loosens his hold on Shepard’s wrist, drops his hand away and puts space between them. That’s what he tells himself to do. That’s what he intends to do.
But while he does loosen his grip, instead of fall away, Kaidan’s fingertips brush Shepard’s knuckles, the pad of his thumb running along the round muscle of his palm.
It’s an accident. Just an accident. So many of their touches are, but rather than move or pull away, rather than let it be just another one of those excusable, explainable slips, Shepard exhales, the breath fluttering out of him, then splays his fingers wider, as if making room for Kaidan’s to slot between them.
Let go, let go.
But instead he explores the open space Shepard has left for him, fingertips light, hesitant, ghosting Shepard’s skin as he finds where they fit, hovering, hoping, but never daring to rest. Never giving up the ruse.
It’s an accident. It doesn’t mean anything.
Except it does.
Shepard stays still as a stone save for the rise and fall of his chest. They’re close enough now their cheeks almost touch, though whether Kaidan moves or Shepard does to close that gap he can’t say.
The next time Kaidan’s fingers trespass through that open space, Shepard closes his around them and traps them there.
Kaidan’s breath hitches.
The gravity well sighs as Shepard calls to it, glow of dark energy limming their hands, accompanied by a soundless hum that strums every nerve in Kaidan’s body before settling in his groin. Without thinking his other hand comes to rest on Shepard’s hip, needing something, anything, to hold onto.
A soft sound stirs in Shepard’s throat. Kaidan’s hand doesn’t stay on that hip for long, because Shepard seeks those fingers out, too, lacing them together. Kaidan folds both arms until Shepard is surrounded by them. There’s no imagining any space between them now – their cheeks rest against each other, Kaidan tightening his hold until Shepard is snug against his chest.
Shepard turns his head, but after briefly meeting each other’s gaze, his eyes drift down to Kaidan’s mouth.
Kaidan can still let go. There’s still a way out. Chalk it up to adrenaline, nerves leftover from the standoff on the Ontario. They can walk it off, laugh, pretend it never happened, continue on like they always have.
But he doesn’t let go, and then the millimeters between Shepard’s lips and Kaidan’s no longer exist and the window is gone.
Shepard’s mouth is warm, soft, lips tinged with the salt of his sweat. They start out slow, cautious, neither of them daring to think about it too hard, but that’s not a problem for long, because soon there’s no room to think about anything at all.
Nothing else matters but this.
Slow and cautious becomes deep and headlong, Kaidan pushing his tongue between Shepard’s teeth, Shepard sighing into his mouth and taking him in. His fingers tighten around Kaidan’s, the glow of dark energy rippling out from their joined hands until it swallows them whole. Kaidan gasps at the sensation.
Shepard kisses him harder.
God.
Kaidan wants to spin him around, throw his arms around his neck and meet him head on, give in to everything, all of it, but he can’t bear the thought of turning loose of that hand.
They part when they run out of air, both straining to catch their breath, fingers still entwined, Shepard still firmly ensconced in Kaidan’s arms as his corona fades.
Shepard rests his cheek against Kaidan’s, ensconcing himself a little further.
“Oh,” he says softly.
“Yeah.”
Shepard’s fingers flex within his, twining and retwining, never letting go.
“You…don’t seem surprised.”
Kaidan closes his eyes, breathing him in, a star he’s somehow pulled down out of the heavens and trapped right here in his arms. “No. Felt it…for a long time now.”
“Oh.”
“…Yeah.”
Their coronas may have faded, but the mingle of their biotic fields is a constant, soothing whisper under Kaidan’s skin. A small, contented sound slips from Shepard’s throat.
“Why didn’t I see it?”
Kaidan huffs. “To be fair, I don’t think either of us are very good at this kind of thing.”
Shepard tightens his grip on Kaidan’s fingers and pulls them to his chest. The race of Shepard’s heart thrums under their joined hands. If Kaidan had any illusions about letting him go, they’re gone now.
“I think I’d like to learn,” Shepard says.
Kaidan’s stomach flips. “Me too.”
They stay still, Kaidan content to hold him, Shepard content to be held, until their lips find each other once more. Kissing Shepard is easy, effortless, like it’s something they were meant to do, a safe place for the live current running under their skin to go to ground.
Shepard, against all evidence to the contrary, is…safe.
Shepard gazes at him when they part, and butterflies cut loose in Kaidan’s stomach.
“You’re very good at that,” Shepard murmurs.
“We’re very good at a lot of things.”
“Yeah. We are.” He draws Kaidan’s hand up to press a kiss to his knuckles. “What do we do now?”
“I don’t know,” Kaidan admits. “What do you want?”
“You.”
A shiver runs down Kaidan’s spine, the euphoria of that one, single word enough to make him lightheaded. So simple. So complicated. They’ll have choices to make, all of them with compromises and consequences. But that’s something for tomorrow. Right now there is only the truth.
“I want that, too.”
Shepard releases Kaidan’s hand to turn until they’re face to face, then runs his fingers through the hairs growing over Kaidan’s right temple. All the while those glittering eyes search Kaidan’s face, as though reconciling all the things he knows with the things he’s learning for the first time.
The corners of his eyes crinkle as a smile spreads across his face, pure, open, and full of possibility. “Taste of my own medicine, huh?”
“Well…” Kaidan shrugs helplessly, and Shepard’s grin only gets deeper.
“Seems like I should have let you teach me a few things a long time ago.”
Kaidan flexes his fingers, a curl of dark energy igniting in his palm that draws out goosebumps along Shepard’s arm. “All in the wrist.”
Shepard laughs. It’s like music. “You and me.”
“I like that,” Kaidan murmurs, before kissing him again. “I like that a lot.”
#mshenko#kaidan alenko#mass effect#my fic#UST with biotics#in case anyone is wondering#the number of first kisses I have written for Sam and Kaidan#is currently sitting at 7#and that's just the first kisses i have WRITTEN#¯\_(ツ)_/¯
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The Voyage So Far: Alabasta (Part One)
east blue (1 | 2) || alabasta (1 | 2) || skypiea || water 7 || enies lobby || thriller bark || paramount war (1 | 2) || fishman island || punk hazard || dressrosa (1 | 2) || whole cake island || wano (1 | 2)
(this is a repost, i deleted the first version of it by accident cause im Idiot)
the entry into the grand line is such a great sequence. it feels like such an ending- a triumph after they’ve spent pretty much all of east blue struggling to make it here, and at the same time the beginning of a new adventure, the biggest yet, one that has yet to end a solid two decades later. they all look so happy to have made it here- it makes me smile.
whiskey peak is one of my very favorite short arcs, and i think of the whole first half of the baroque works saga its the one that hits and maintains a tone best (almost certainly because its so short, admittedly, but still). i love the repeated shots of the moon, the reveal that the cactuses are actually covered in graves, the way everything seems far too good to be true at the start and the sense of suspense that creates.
zoro’s extended fight scene in whiskey peak is so great- it’s so creative and so dynamic and the odds are stacked so high against him and yet he’s clearly having so much fun. i do miss this sort of scrappy, improvised fight, cause its largely absent from later one piece but its SO much fun to read- zoro cutting holes in rooftops for people to fall through or shoving ladders to the ground as bounty hunters try to climb them.
i’m a huge fan of fight scenes that use the environment to their fullest, and this is such a perfect example of it. it makes the fight feel a lot more real and exciting, in my opinion.
i’ve never liked zoro and luffy fighting at whiskey peak, its always struck me as frustrating and contrived and kind of out of character for both of them, but i will say that i do like how on the same page they are even when they’re trying to kill each other.
the entire first half of the baroque works saga basically serves to introduce and endear us to vivi so we’ll be invested in the alabasta conflict, and that starts here in whiskey peak, when we get our first glimpse of her actual personality rather than the act she was putting on as miss wednesday, when she bites her lip hard enough to bleed in order not to break down at igaram’s apparent death.
watching robin’s actions with the added context of later one piece is one of the great joys of rereading alabasta. she does a fantastic job of appearing to be crocodile’s most dedicated and capable and dangerous employee while quietly but consistently sabotaging his efforts; saving luffy, sparing pell, sparing igaram, not telling crocodile anything about the strawhats despite meeting them here at the very start of the saga.
little garden has some really cool and striking panels that really put the scale of things on the island, the dinosaurs and giants alike, into perspective, and i love it.
i’m a huge fan of the depth of in-universe lore one piece has. just having little details like this, quotes from books written in-universe, go so far towards making the world feel like a real and wondrous place with mysteries to be solved and details to be uncovered.
i still think sanji is firmly at his best when he’s being a sneaky bastard, and i will never cease to be delighted by how thoroughly he manages to fuck crocodile over with nothing but a phone and some quick thinking not once but twice.
i really like dorry and brogy! for minor characters who’ve only appeared in one relatively minor and inconsequential arc so far, they’re not only very fun and memorable but also leave a hell of an impact on the story, not only in usopp’s new dream of eventually visiting elbaf but also in how they and their crew just keep coming up, first in enies lobby and then even further down the line in dressrosa and whole cake island.
i’m really excited for when we eventually get to reach elbaf, because this plot thread has been so thoroughly and subtly built up over such a long time that i can’t wait to see how it ends.
this is one of my favorite little moments to really drive home how much the strawhats care about each other. they all fell asleep on the floor rather than leave nami alone.
the whole introductory scene to drum is a really good summary of who vivi is as a person and how she contrasts with luffy, and it’s something i’ve written extensively about in a past meta. here ill just settle for saying, vivi is chronically selfless, and always the sort of person to sacrifice herself for others, and these traits which save the strawhats here are the exact same ones that bring her and luffy to blows later on in alabasta.
a good thing to remember when writing characters is that traits aren’t really inherently good or bad, they’re just traits and can have positive or negative consequences depending on the situation, and i think oda is really good at this. vivi’s selflessness, usually a positive thing, becomes reckless self-sacrifice when she’s pushed to her breaking point.
‘kindness begets kindness’ is a pretty consistent theme throughout one piece, though luffy is most often on the other side of it. someone (rebecca, law, tama, etc.) does something for him without really expecting anything in return, and gets paid back a hundred times over. this is a case of the opposite- luffy helps someone offhandedly, and is later saved by their gratitude.
i think luffy wearing his fingers bloody as he climbs the drum rockies is the only time one piece has ever made me cringe back from the page. this sequence is absolutely brutal, and it’s so well-done.
the way luffy decides chopper should be his crewmate is precious, and also reminds me a little of his recruitment of sanji (ironically, given he’s talking to sanji about chopper here). in both cases he sees someone do something good without even really knowing the full extent of their abilities and makes a snap decision that they are awesome and are gonna be part of his crew, no matter what they have to say about it.
i really, really enjoy the way the drum island flashback is set up, with the cutaway right as luffy is about to punch wapol’s lights out. the cut back to that punch finally hitting when the flashback ends is by that point infinitely more satisfying, since you’ve just read chopper’s backstory and therefore have a deep and abiding desire to see wapol eat shit.
hiriluk’s final speech is definitely one of the best and most memorable quotes from one piece, and effectively the crux of one of its biggest themes. one piece is all about inherited will. all of our main cast and a solid percentage of the supporting cast bear the legacy of at least one forebear on their shoulders, from kuina to corazon to otohime. the entire setting of the story is defined by roger’s legacy.
all those people are dead, but they’re sure as hell not forgotten- how can they be, when their legacies are actively shaping the world as a direct result of their lives and influences?
i really, really like the use of flags in one piece. flags are how you declare loyalty or war in equal measure, and flying a pirate flag is a declaration that you’re choosing freedom, come what may, over the laws of the world government. it’s just a really excellent running motif, and a great symbol of what one piece’s definition of piracy means.
this scene is also one of the ones that gets even more extra weight behind it when you know luffy’s full backstory with sabo, which i love.
chopper’s recruitment scene sums up one of the reasons luffy is really great. he just doesn’t care about a lot of things other people would normally take notice of. occasionally that gets him in trouble, but other times it leads to him responding to a situation exactly right, like here. chopper is listing off all his insecurities and reasons he can’t go with the strawhats, and luffy just flat doesn’t care. he wants chopper on his crew and he knows chopper wants to be on his crew, so as far as he’s concerned, there’s no issue at all.
it really is wild that the will of D is named this far back in the story, and has consistently been referenced and built up ever since in very slight ways, through comments by characters like robin and corazon, and yet we still know basically nothing about it.
and a toast to a new crewmate!!
continued in the next post, which covers alabasta arc proper.
#the voyage so far#arc: reverse mountain#arc: whiskey peak#arc: little garden#arc: drum island#one piece#opmeta#not japanese#long post
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Trial by Fire
Masterlist - Chapter 1
Fors is an Original planet. I do not give permission to people to use it for their own fics, the planet, the animals, the Nightmares, the lore or anything related to Fors.
Thank you.
Pairing: Bad Batch x Reader
Words: 4020 words
Warnings: Blood, gore, monsters (yay).
A/N: Woohoo, action chap! From this point on, the will be blood on almost every chap. Be warned.
Taglist: @haloangel391 / @lightning-wolffe / @cherrydemon5 / @and-claudia
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"Something happened." One of the members spoke up, addressing the problem from his position at the end of the long table. "The planet is angry again."
"Why would they come back now?" Another asked, finger nervously tapping at his tight.
The man leading the council took a second, to release the armchair from his deadly grip, allowing blood to return to his white fingertips.
"We all know how it started." He didn't know why they were back, but he certainly knew who was the cause.
Whispers erupted from the dozen of people sitting at the table, accusations, hateful exclamations, worried questions, they all blended in a cacophony that beat at the leader's growing headache.
"Enough." He barked, effectively bringing silence back into the closed room.
"She's back and we need to find her. Send half of our available hunters into the jungle for a retrieval mission. No one is allowed back in until she's here."
"But Arlan," the head of the scouts paused, unsure of his own next words, "she's dead."
No one dared to breathe, in fear that they may be chosen to venture the darkness away from the village's protection if they dared to make a sound to disturb the stillness of the room.
"Apparently not." Arlan growled, frustrated that the thorn in his side was back.
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You took a deep breath in to calm your buzzing nerves, they couldn't control you right now, not when everyone's lives, your family, was in danger. They needed you strong and in control, something you hoped you could be long enough to get the whole group to safety. It was your only chance. You had your instincts, they were sharp and trustworthy so you had to rely on them and not let panic overflow again.
You exhaled slowly, wiggling your fingers and toes to relax every inch of yourself. You could do it. You were an experienced hunter in these jungles and they were highly trained commandos with a flawless success rate. Let's not forget the fact that they had blasters. You were good with your knife, but it clearly wasn't the best weapon out there. Maybe the odds were in your favor.
But they were used to droids, not unpredictable monsters that loved to tear beings apart limb by limb. Tonight would be your trial by fire. For all of you.
"We need to be ready to meet them." You cracked your knuckles unconsciously, already picturing yourself in front of one of your nightmares.
You acknowledged Hunter's comment with a nod, already walking to the nearest tree to stab it with your knife and insert your loyal tap into the hole.
"We all drink before it's no longer possible. It's gonna be a long night and this is our last chance to do it." You pointed to Wrecker. "You first."
He obeyed in a beat, trusting your survival skills. You knew you'd need all the energy available and the sugary water would provide you just that. Also, you needed to be as hydrated as possible.
"Okay." You turned towards the rest of them, all their visors fixated on you. "So, I don't know much about them. There are different species that are common beliefs in my village and other species that are proper to other villages. But they all have in common to eat whatever cross their path and to roam solely at night."
Wrecker moved away from the tree, wiping his mouth with his wrist to make place for Tech who removed his helmet to drink.
"This planet is a trap." The grey-haired clone grumbled at your unhelpful lack of information.
"I know, I've lived here my whole life." You glared at him before concentrating again. "No one in my village ever came back from a night outside, so I don't know for sure what species are around. All I know is that there are Algax roaming around."
You signaled to Cross to take Tech's place.
"They are taaaall creature, with dark blue-ish skin and really long arms and legs. They are shy," you gesticulated your hands around to find the right word, but couldn't find it so you went with the first word that came to your mind, "things that tend to hide along the trees and grab their prey when they don't look. They don't eat the prey, just crush it to death and let it there for the other things."
You were losing time fast, the jungle was darkening with each passing minute and you were far from ready. There was too much to cover and so little time. Plus, there was the fact that what you knew wasn't 100% reliable. Beliefs change from people to people, from village to village, who knows what version of the stories these beasts really came from?
"And they're super sneaky and silent. Hunter your turn." You announced a tad too dryly, but no one called you out on it, maybe because they were as on edge as you were, mentally preparing themselves for what was to come as best as they could considering they didn't really know what was to come.
"I'll do this quick so listen. And Tech, listen really really carefully. Rule number one, if you see a light, something cute, something scary, hear a sound or hear your name being called, you. Do. Not. Follow it."
"They know our names?" Tech's hands stopped mid-air, his helmet almost back on his head, eyes wide in surprise.
"The planet hears us talk. Of course they know." You almost rolled your eyes at the stupid question coming from the team's genius. Ears everywhere duuh.
"Rule number two, don't eat or drink anything from now on. Can't have one of us puke their guts or get poisoned or paralyzed." Out of the corner of your eyes, you clearly saw a shiver shake the sniper's body. Lesson learned.
"Number three, if I say run, you all run. In the same direction would be best, but if it comes down to it, you run and don't stop. We'll regroup afterward. You have trackers on us, right?"
"If you keep your comlink on you, yes." You patted your pockets in reflex, hand closing around the small object to confirm its presence and alleviate your concerns.
"Last rule, if I do this," the index, middle and ring finger of your free-hand closed to let only your thumb and pinky pointing to the ground, "you have to hide, absolutely don't run. Hide. Some of them are guided by movements and you'll only attract them."
"Hide? But we can blast 'em!" Wrecker's enthusiasm didn't affect you this time around. It was a first.
" 'm just no sure they'll stop moving if you do. Best to make our way around unnoticed."
He grumbled his disappointment at having to be silent, it never has been his forte. Plus, he had the added difficulty to hide his imposing stature, so this would be a challenge. Thankfully their armors were almost entirely black, would they have been the usual white with color stripes, it certainly would have been even more difficult to blend in with the vegetation.
It felt weird giving them orders, like you were totally out of place. And in a sense you were. The newbie wasn't supposed to command the trained soldiers. The newbie followed behind and shut its mouth.
Well, at least that's what you've always been told and that's what you've always done. It was no use to fight with the other hunters. They were a group of dickheads that deserved hell, but they had more muscles than you. And they were outnumbering. Aaand they were watching each other's back, whereas you were alone without any backup. All that being said, it didn't stop you from making them pay for their hurtful words, harsh treatments, condescending tones and constant bullying, one way or the other.
For the first time, people let you lead them and it was unsettling. A part of your mind waited for the inevitable low blow to hit you square in the face. You knew the commandos weren't like that, but you couldn't help it. It was a defensive reflex you developed over the years of trying to fit in a world that you were too different to live in. It was totally foreign to be listened to and not berated down, it felt good and terrifying at the same time.
"Understood?" Your voice softened into an unsure tone, its once imperativeness melted under the weight of your anxiety of being listened to.
One after the other, they all nodded, gazes full of determination and something else that almost made you sweat. They all showed their trust in you, even Crosshair who you thought didn't like you much, offered you his trust. It meant way too much and stressed you beyond measure. You couldn't let them down and have them killed. Any single one of them.
Nodding in return, you walked to the tap beside Hunter and forced yourself to swallow the water, pushing down the lump that formed in your throat. You could do it. You could survive the night if you played your cards right. With your knowledge and their excellent combat skills surely you could defend yourselves. Right?
"Blasters ready gentlemen. We have to find a shelter as quickly as possible." You removed the tap from the tree and hid it back into a pocket.
"A den should be alright or a small cave."
With one last look at the four of them, you noded to yourself.
"Good night, good luck." You told them as per habit and hope that the saying would somehow protect you all. Your usual joking self was nowhere to be seen, letting you wear a mask of complete seriousness.
They tensed, apparently getting on the fact that this was an important custom on this planet.
"Good night, good luck." They repeated, one after the other, causing you to smile tightly at the gesture.
You took North, continuing away from the ship and into unknown territory. You knew that after a while you'd eventually fall into Forsians hunting territories and then you'd have a better knowledge of the terrain, but those parts of the jungle were still hours away. Hopefully, you'll be able to climb up and make your way back to the ship before getting there.
"Will you be alright to walk in the dark?" Crosshair's voice erupted from your pocket and you knew this wouldn't work. Each time they'd speak the whole jungle would hear.
"I'll be fine. Like I said, the best mutate to survive." You winked at the white crosshair on the sniper's helmet. "I can see in the dark. Not full 10/10 on the chart, but enough so I won't ram into a tree."
You fished the comlink out of your pocket and showed it to Tech who was rummaging around in his utility belt pockets.
"Can't have it screaming my position every time someone spea-"
"I know." He cut you off, presenting you an earpiece.
"This will do." He took your device to connect them together, or so you think. "There. You'll hear us through the earpiece but you still need the comlink to talk."
He gave you back the electronics and you quickly put the earbud on, comlink returning to your satisfyingly deep pocket.
"Thanks. We should continue to follow the ravine and hope that we can climb it at some point and return to the ship."
Agreements resonated in your right ear and you got on your way. It got darker and darker until the only colors you could see were different shades of blue and black.
The silence around was nerve-wracking, every tree seemed like it would turn around and jump at you at each and every step you took.
It was nice to quickly fall back in your old habits, feet barely making a sound, eyes recognizing every scratches and marks on the trees let by multiple species marking their territories; Dire bears, Lacergans, Fu-
You almost jumped at the low rumbling whisper right in your ear. Thankfully, your scream stayed in your mind and the only thing jumping was your heartbeat.
"Movement ahead." You couldn't hear shit, but you trusted Hunter's heightened senses.
You stopped, the boys getting into their shooting positions at your sides. You could do it.
"Smell like death." Hunter added with a grunt of displeasure.
The new information registered like a cold bath, freezing every muscle in your body. The ice-cold bath that just fell over your head paralyzed any transfer of information between the neurons in your brain, leaving you totally helpless for a whole second. Your brain was still out of service when your body just moved on its own, already knowing what to do despite the lack of orders from above.
The three middle fingers of your free hand closed, letting only your thumb and pinky pointing to the ground, clearly informing the clones of the course of action. Thankfully, all their gazes got attracted by your moving hand, immediately changing the formation.
Twiggs broke a bit to the right, still far enough for you to dodge behind a tree undetected, soon joined by Tech who as opposed to you, faced the tree. His chest plate pushed on your torso to get closer to the tree, one of his blasters raised right next to your head, the other grazing your upper arm, caging you in a position that would be extremely hot in totally different circumstances and with a totally different clone.
At the corner of your eyes, you thankfully noticed Wrecker's imposing form hiding as best as he could behind a particularly thick bush, Hunter standing behind a tree next to him, weapon pointed towards the sky above. Crosshair was nowhere to be seen, so you hoped it meant he found a good spot.
Rustling leaves and moving grass made you freeze completely. No one moved as the footsteps got nearer and nearer. Of course, this was the first creature you'd encounter. Kribats were the worst creature one could run into.
They were told to feast on human flesh like there was no tomorrow. They were starved, walking the jungle every night in hope of biting down on some stupidly brave human who ventured the night, but these times were rare nowadays. Almost no one got out at night, reinforcing their desperation for human blood.
It was told that they could paralyze you in fear at simply one glance to their wicked red eyes, allowing the beast to pound on its victims and take their life. It wasn't clear how it killed its preys, but all the versions were unanimous, it was a bloodbath.
Fors really seemed to hate the Bad Batch.
If it wasn't enough that the most dangerous monster was hot on your asses, Tech's recording light flashed to life, illuminating your position and burning your retina like a mighty beacon. With a fast but careful movement, you reached around his arm encasing your body into the tree to cover the red traitorous light.
Blinking the tears away, you really hoped your glare got the message perfectly clear to the engineer. Forget about your hobby for one night, you dumbass!
The rustling grass behind Hunter's tree stopped your breathing, all senses focussed on the beast's movements to know if it detected your group or not.
Tech's eyes visibly widen behind his visor at the ungodly sight of the creature's emaciated body, the skull of a cervid posed atop a male human body rivaling Wrecker's height was disturbing, but not as disturbing as the sight of all the blood covering its dark skin. There was so much blood that it pooled at its feet, leaving behind a river-like path in the grass.
The low ragged rumble of the monster passed your tree, surprising you that he hadn't bounced on it to grab you from behind. You glanced at its retreating form and oh this is new. Your version of a Kribat didn't have a feathery tail trailing behind. Now, what could this be useful for? They couldn't fly, could they?
The Kribat wandered deeper into the depth of the jungle, leaving its imprint on everyone's mind as well as on the jungle floor and all your noses and mouths.
You waited for a little longer, just to be sure that it was far enough to not catch its attention before nodding to Tech.
"Clear." He whispered through the comm.
The first breath you took in almost pulled you to your knees. The smell was atrocious, grabbing you at your throat. Decomposition, blood, acids, they all mixed to form a rancid smell that you could almost taste.
"What in the Nine Corellian Hells is that?" Crosshair stood from behind a dead trunk on the ground to join everyone at the dark trail.
"Human blood, flesh and organs." The shredded pieces of meat here and there turned your stomach upside down.
You were used to flesh and blood. Heck. You were a hunter and often butched your meals yourself. But this flesh was human and the state of it only left you to imagine was it must have felt like to be ripped apart. You didn't want to speculate if the victim was alive or not when it happened.
"Kribats are craving human flesh but they don't have a digestive system. It gets in and gets out, so they're never satiated."
"So this one just ate?" Wrecker approached behind you. Now faced with what these beasts were capable of, his enthusiasm disappeared somewhere, letting him wary and if only a little bit scared.
"It looks like it." You fixed the blood, deep in thoughts. Why were there humans out tonight?
"I thought no one was supposed to be out at night." Tech inquired while disconnecting the red light on his helmet.
"They're not supposed to be. It means that something's wrong." You sighed. Tonight couldn't get any better. The planet was throwing a tantrum.
There was nothing you could do about it, so you focussed back on the present. You swallowed to keep yourself from puking as you dropped to your knees before the red river.
"And what are you doing?" Crosshair asked, not daring to approach the thing himself.
"Camouflaging my smell of a juicy living being." With shaky hands, you plunged your fingers through the sticky mixture. You gaged at the feeling but covered your sleeves nonetheless.
"You guys should cover your armor too. Lucky bastards." At least it wouldn't touch their skin.
"No way." Crosshair groaned as Tech walked over asking "Why?"
"Because I want us to survive the night." You deadpanned. There was no time to explain the how and why.
You stopped breathing for a second to cover your torso and pants, cringing at the warm wetness soaking the fabric. You allowed yourself a second to mourn your once perfect clothes that you loved so much. You'd have to burn them after only one day wearing them.
At your sides the boys reluctantly followed your lead, grunting in disgust every two seconds.
You decided to forget your face, this would end badly for your stomach.
Turning around as you wiped your hands on a clean spot on your pants, you noticed Hunter's clean body leaning on a tree for support, head tilted down with a hand over his heart. You didn't need to be a Jedi to feel his distress at the overwhelmingly nauseating smell.
"You okay?" His visor lifted to meet your eyes at your worry. You controlled yourself and refrained from pulling him in a hug, you'd only make it worse.
"Yeah." But he sounded far from okay.
"We have to continue, but if you stay close, we all should be able to hide your smell without rolling you into the stuff." He grunted in agreement.
Tech, Crosshair and Wrecker joined your sides, covered in the mixture.
"Okay. We continue."
Hoping that your sergeant would get used to the smell, you took the lead once more. You didn't know if his mutation would allow his brain to stop registering the smell after a couple of minutes like everyone else. You mentally crossed your fingers for him.
The trees seemed taller into the dead of night. The occasional moon rays passing through the leaves made the heavy ambiance slightly more bearable.
You wondered what a night outside looked like on another planet where no monsters crept their way around. Where you could lay down and watch the stars, not through a tiny crack in the rock like you used to in your village and fully admire the high sky, illuminated by a sea of sparkling orbs. You deeply wanted to experience it with your team who would definitely think you stupidly simple.
But they would understand. After tonight, they would.
Your progression was steady for a while, every ears and eyes were focussed around to detect any unwanted creature lurking in the shadows.
Back to his collected usual self, Hunter finally seemed used to the smell plaguing his nose. To add to the good news, you spotted a mature tree, particularly large. At first glance, it looked like it reached the top of the ravine.
Excitement flooded your veins, a hand lifting to stop the group who tensed in alert.
"I think this one could get us up." You whispered to them, pointing at the tree.
"It definitely could." Tech scanned the tree, the others still watching the surroundings.
"I'll go check." You broke away from the formation to get to the closest branch.
"Wait-" A hand caught your upper arm.
"Hunter, I'm the best climber here. Plus, you guys will make too much sound for a recon with your armor. I'll make it quick." Your determined eyes met his visor, not willing to get back on your position.
"Be careful." He released you to position his team around the tree.
You send him a quick salute before pulling yourself up the tree. You kept your knife in one hand and climbed up several branches. The next one was pretty high, too high for you to reach it without jumping. Your knife found its home at the side of your boot and you focussed on your jump. Crouching slightly, you suddenly extended your legs and pushed with considerable force. Both hands grabbed the top of the desired branch before letting your biceps do the rest of the work.
"Are you okay?" Hunter called through the comm.
Leaning on the trunk, you reached in your pocket to retrieve the communication device.
"Yeah, had to jump to continue. Think I'm almost at the top. I'll be down soon." You answered, looking up to the thinning branches where more moonlight pierced the darkness.
"Copy that."
Your comm returned to your pocket to free your hands. Up. Up. Up. In the same minute, you made it to the top. The moon was still low, not fully visible above the line of trees obstructing your vision.
Now, you noticed that the edge of the damn ravine seemed barely close enough for you to jump there. Maybe Wrecker could throw you there. But how would he reach the top? Checking under the edge, the lack of roots keeping the ground stable was highly disappointing. Even if you were to jump all the way there, the chance of the dirt crumbling under your fingers was too high.
Quickly, you grabbed your comm to let the boys know that you were coming back.
With a grumble, you started to descend, moving gracefully from branch to branch without making a sound. The gap you jumped looked pretty big from above, causing you to hesitate for the shortest of seconds. The need to get down was more pressing than your unease so you braced yourself and pushed yourself off your perch to the one below.
You landed perfectly, both feet on the hard surface, hands wrapped around it tightly to not move further.
For a second, you were perfectly stable. The next you were falling through the air, propelled by the body hitting you full force. Wood painfully came in contact with your shoulders, arms and back, emptying your lungs before a scream could escape your lips.
#bad batch x reader#tech x reader#wrecker x reader#crosshair x reader#hunter x reader#sergeant hunter#clone force 99#clone wars#star wars#good night good luck
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Make Me Yours
Day 4 of Kinktober: Body Ownership
Day 4 of Suptober: Branded
Pairing: Michael!Dean x reader
Summary: Michael wants you to be his.
A/N: I swear I'm not that pornography on daily basis I'm even more, but branding is very kinky here. I also strongly support you listening to False God while reading. @itsangelpie @deanmonandnegansbitch, this is the Michael one I was talking about xD
Warnings: smut, dirty talk, p in v, bit of power play, marking, brief fingering, grace
CATCH UP KINKTOBER & SUPTOBER
Michael enjoyed leaving a trace behind like any other powerful celestial.
Once, the loyal son convinced himself that it was because he wanted, not only humans, but his siblings, father, and any other being to know that he could be a savior like he was built to be. No matter what, he was a righteous warrior who would do anything his beloved father wanted him to. He was a perfect soldier, earning nothing but pride and all the head pats possible.
At least, that was before. It was back when Michael thought that God truly loved him and that he had a bigger purpose than gaining adoration from his fragile humans to overthrow Lucifer — his little brother, the archangel that was thrown away like a rough draft. Now, Michael couldn't care less about living up to his goody two shoes reputation. He didn't care about his brothers and sisters either, much less the humans. The archangel wouldn't say that he hated them like Lucifer foolishly did. His brother was wrapped in a bubble of jealousy that was almost embarrassing. No, breakable things didn't deserve attention. Michael just didn't care about them or their little world. All of his heaven-made goals had melted into one thing to look forward to — getting Chuck back to kill him.
So what if he had to burn a couple of dimensions and their human inhabitants? That was just an unfortunate side effect of Chuck’s little creations being the only thing that could catch his attention.
Burn a book? Get the author’s fury.
Michael was more than satisfied with the idea of leaving a trace of calamitous fire behind. It was such a beautiful legacy that would put fear into the atmosphere of the universe, and Michael would be God. He would be better one — the evolved version of what he’d always been as an archangel.
The torn holes of vulnerability inside of him had only grown wider, gaping into an open wound when his father left him as though Michael were as useless as a broken toy. That wicked, selfish side said it was because he wanted everyone to know how terrible he can be — fear him so no one will ever be close enough to hurt him again.
Terror had worked better than adoration for millenniums.
The archangel is good with that. Unlike his father, Michael's ego is as big as the amount of blood in his hands, not the people on their knees or the number of démodé cathedrals to worship him in the name of a bible that he never wrote. He doesn't need humanity’s adoration.
You bit your bottom lip to contain a smile, glancing at him. Michael could read from your mind and erratic heartbeat that you were both excited and curious about what was going to happen. Yet, he didn't need to. He knew your body — that perfect body — very well by himself with no help of his powers.
Correction: he needs one human's worship.
As mentioned beforehand, powerful beings like to leave a trace behind for multiple reasons: marking their territory like a big dog, making a point to gain respect through terror, or boosting their self-confidence.
“Get on all fours, little one.”
For the first time, Michael wanted to make someone a living reminder of him. He wanted to mark a human for being his: you.
You were obedient, quickly moving to the position that he had asked. You can hear Michael humming in satisfaction, moving in such a quiet way that you almost feel surprised when he placed his hand on your back.
Michael watched your body with care, his fingers dancing with tenderness on your skin. He used to believe that a vessel was everything a human body was worth. Sex was a foreign concept, nothing but an earthling’s attempt not to feel alone — if they weren't fighting, they were fucking. It got boring after the first few centuries.
And then, you happened.
“So marvelous, little one.” His words were laced with gruffness, startling a whimper out of you. “All of this…” He held your waist and pulled you back swiftly. You gasped, feeling his hardness against your ass. Michael didn't slide in, but he kept rubbing himself on you. “All of you…” One of his hands slid down your body, making way for his fingers to catch your sweet spot. You were so warm and wet: there was nothing on Heaven, Earth, or Hell as splendid your needy cunt. “Who do you belong to, Y/N?”
“To you, Michael. I belong to you. Please.” You should be ashamed of begging so early, but how could you judge yourself? Michael's hard cock behind you, making your ass dirty with precum along with two fingers inside your pussy and his possessive words stewing inside your head — you were still just a human, after all. “I need you.”
It was blissful, to have someone he was enchanted by to worship him as the Sabaeans did to the stars.
“Patience is a virtue, little one.” The archangel wore a proud smirk, adding another finger into your wet mess. You groaned in response, pressing your hips to his pelvis in an obvious attempt for more.
Michael's cock welcomed the growing arousal, dropping more precum than before and twitching. It was difficult not to give himself any relief, but he had to teach you a lesson before taking you again. Religion came with strict rules.
He pulled away from you, grabbing your neck from behind only to push your head on the bed. Your cheek to the mattress made it was painfully easy for reality to sink in: the archangel’s fingers on your bare skin, his fingers that were inside you. There was something uniquely blasphemous about sinning like this.
“You take what I give you, and you're grateful for that. Understood?” He howled, tightening his hold on you. “I picked you.”
“Yes, master.” The two words fought to leave your mouth before ultimately escaping. You know you should be afraid, but your soul refuses to welcome any feeling other than excitement. Michael didn't even use his grace yet. He wouldn't hurt you: at least, not enough for you to suffer. Everything he did to your body was a blessing.
“Good.” He exhaled, letting go of your neck. The archangel had been way too patient, and you waited long enough. You dared turn your head to look at him, and Michael was divine. His gorgeous body was crouched with his knees on the bed while he patiently observed you. His length was large and rock hard against your leg. You just wanted to give him release. “Like what you see?”
You gulped, nodding furiously. The archangel chortled before he slid his cock inside you without any other warning.
You let out a shamefully loud scream. What else could you do? His cock was fucking its way inside you, cleansing your body with the prayer of being everything you could ever need or want: to feel holy, to feel full. Michael grunted, grabbing your hips to pull you closer, and you moved back and forth in sync with him. Soon, the bed was the one clamoring with noise. Both of you became hollow when you were like this — hungry, craving for something to fill up your empty pieces.
Michael was the right hand of God, the protector — whatever treasures he chose to deify would be eternal because he could make it happen. And for Heaven, he adored you.
His cock found your G-spot, and his grace flooded into your veins as if it was meant to be there. Your walls were tighter and tighter around him, and you couldn't wait to feel his load inside you, marking you from inside. There was a wash of glowing pleasure in your body. You had never felt so light before. This felt like the precipice of your glorified religion, and God, you could make a church out of this.
“That's it, my love.” Michael moaned, his eyes bright blue as he fucked himself into you. You bit the pillow to keep another scream down. He squeezed your waist. There was something burning in your bones with a painful pleasure as his hand glowed. He was branding you as his, writing his symbol all over your soul, bones, and heart. And you were enjoying every single ache of it. “Cum for me. I want to hear you coming for me.”
He may be a false god, but he certainly brought you to heaven.
Your lips parted into a moan as your juice came all over his pulsating cock, and Michael came inside you in a rush. Everything hurt as if he had rearranged your bones, but it was as comfortable as if they were all snapped back together in the right places. You fell on the bed out of exhaustion, wondering if you'd live to see another day. All of you seemed to be on fire, much more than the other times. Your pussy was pulsing, and you could smell him all over your skin. He had made your body his. You were his.
Michael pulled away from you, a lopsided grin on his lips as he glanced at his possession. The archangel laid down, pulling your tired body to him. You clung to Michael while trying to breathe properly. What had just happened?
“Wh — What was that?”
“I marked you, little one.” Michael gave you a devilish grin while his eyes shone a dazzling blue. He was the apocalypse of your soul, and you couldn't wait for the sweet destruction. “Now, everyone will know that you are mine. Your pussy, all your body, and your soul. You belong to me, Y/N.” He had everything now. The world and you. He was ethereal. “I'm your god now.”
You made an altar out of him, and you'd always be a loyalist to this love, no matter the sacrifices you'd have to do for this.
Leave a comment and reblog. Feedback is magic! Check my day 1,2&3 of kinktober & day 3 of suptober, and my masterlist ♡
Dean's sweethearts: @akshi8278 @hardcoresupernatural
Hunters: @demonhunterbarbie @bi-danvers0 @emilyshurley @desimarie12
Kinktober taglist: @psych0crybaby
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#dean winchester x reader#kinktober day 4#suptober20#supernatural#dean winchester#dean x you#michael!dean#michael!dean x reader#michael!dean x you#spn#dean winchester imagine#supernatural imagines#spn reader insert#dean winchester headcanon#dean winchester imagines#dean winchester x you#dean winchester smut#supernatural smut#dean winchester x reader smut#supernatural x reader#spn x you
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Luck is petty.
Like everything else about his luck, Gladstone hates this and loves it in equal turns, often both at once.
It’s pettiness means he always knows that people’s minds are their own (or at least not influenced by him). Once someone has decided he is insufferable and deserving of only a kick in the pants, it cannot make them give him things or put up with him anyway (ignoring the odd encounters he’s had with a chicken in a bright pink cape.*1 He’s pretty certain something entirely different then luck was at play there, though he has no idea what), which is why he mostly gets given free stuff by strangers instead of people who have met him before. It can influence the physical world, and that alone.
He loves this about it because it means he can exert some level of control over it, want and hate and whittle down its options until it’s forced to give him what he actually wants. He loves it because he is terrified of what it could do if it wasn’t petty. How far it could go, how much it could effect, how badly it would twist the world around it, while he would have no control or hope of containing it.
He hates it because petty luck is petty. It cares about riches, wining bets, getting free things, and curtailing talent and hard work. It can’t (and doesn’t) win him friends or happiness or love. It protects his physical health but doesn’t give a damn about his mental, content to let him be abused and taken advantage of (especially if that gives it another chance to win a prize), so long as he isn’t hungry, isn’t homeless, and isn’t injured. (Liu Hai’s was not the first gilded cage he’d been trapped in, just one that was unusually hard to escape.)
Luck is petty but Gladstone is not.
Sometimes (when the chips are down and the stakes are high) this means that his luck has to play by Gladstone’s rules.
———————————————O0—0—0O————————————————
Gladstone had run into Fethry by complete chance earlier in the day, and he’d spent the last several hours cheerfully walking and chatting with his red-hatted cousin as they meandered their way across town. Gladstone’s luck had been in full effect as they walked, guiding their route via construction sites that had blocked roads, flying $20 bills and interesting butterflies that tempted them down back alleys and side streets, and a very memorable dumpster that gave Gladstone a bad jump scare by falling over and releasing about twenty cats into the general area. The path they’d taken had been dictated largely by whatever looked like the least hassle, and had eventually ended up with them down by the docks, getting lost amongst the warehouses and shipping containers of the many trading companies that had operations in Duckburg Harbor.
Gladstone didn’t mind being utterly lost, he never had. His luck meant they’d get where they ought to go without being late, so he was content to simply wander at random while he enjoyed his cousin’s enthusiastic rambling.
Popping out of a particularly out-of-the-way alley, he realized that he and Fethry had ended up at the main road, less then twenty yards from the beginning of the pier. What was more, he could see Donald’s car.
It was pulled just off of the asphalt and onto the concrete, and parked behind a pile of boxes large enough that it likely couldn’t be spotted from anywhere except the small alley they’d just exited. The 313 was old, and in even worse repair then normal, with one of its mirrors duct taped on, and a couple of its fender skirts boasting decently sized dents. Slumped in the driver’s seat was Donald, with blood on his beak.
For a moment Gladstone felt like he had been plunged underwater.
He had seen his unlucky cousin injured before, many times even. Donald, Della, and Scrooge were always finding a way to get themselves into life-or-death danger, and even when they weren’t trouble managed to find Donald anyway. He’d seen his cousin thrown through walls, struck by lightning, almost crushed by falling boulders, and passed out in all sorts of places weirder then his own oddly parked car. But for all that, he’s rarely, if ever, seen his cousin bleed, so he thinks it’s probably the blood that makes everything about his just scream wrong.
The underwater-feeling, the feeling of wrongness, is intense, blurring the edges of the world and muffling all sound. He can just barely hear himself shout through the veil of unreality that, for one long moment, seems to drown him.
“Donald?!”
Beside him Fethry stops talking, then the underwater-feeling shatters to make way for the electrocuting feeling of ice-cold terror, and the next moment he and Fethry are both sprinting for the car.
Donald wakes up when they reach the car, both of them somewhat crashing into it in their panic. The more important thing, is that there are bloody petals in Donald’s lap. Gladstone suddenly feels like there’s something caught in his own throat that he has to force words out past, because he knows what bloody petals mean, but no no No NO—
“Donald, Donald what, w-who—“
Any doubt is swept away when Donald goes to respond and starts choking instead, coughing up not just bloody petals but entire flower heads. Red, Blue, Green, Pink, Gold, and White, all different shapes and kinds. Gladstone feels like every emotion he has has been flicked on at once, a white-hot intensity that burns through him just waiting to explode outward. The world around him is in crystalline clarity, all his senses turned up to eleven and recording in overwhelming detail, and he’s feeling everything at once. He knows what hanahaki is but he doesn’t know his flowers, can’t decipher what’s before him. Can’t know and can’t guess and can’t let Donald die.
Donald finishes hacking up a morbid bouquet and starts trying to tell him and Fethry, voice garbled even worse then normal, about having several hours left and wanting to be next to the ocean. Fethry is listening to Donald. Gladstone is doing anything but.
He hasn’t been Cloverleaf in years, and it’s been just as long since he actively controlled his luck. Focusing in the draining way it takes to Curse or Bless is not something he does outside of the mask, instead just letting Gladstone Gander be blown wherever his luck wishes to take him.
But by god he does it now, pouring everything he can into Blessing Donald more intensely then he’s ever done before, wanting and pushing, making bets against himself with devastating consequences if Donald dies. Deciding, with no hesitation or room for chance, what he’ll do —do to himself— if this goes wrong. Gladstone will never be okay again if Donald dies, making his luck agree is just a matter of making sure it knows that he means physically too.
He stifles and kills the urge to Curse whoever hurt his cousin, because that won’t help Donald now. But eyes are burning red with roiling anger, fear and worry adding fuel to the fire, the temper he shares with Donald on the few occasions he’s well and truly ticked on full display. And he will not release his death grip on his cousin’s arm.
And Gladstone doesn’t know it, but Paperinik has seen Cloverleaf Curse and Bless before, and can very much recognize the light static electricity jumping between his cousin’s feathers and the look of vicious concentration on his cousin’s face, even if he wasn’t expecting it at all.
Several miles across town in McDuck Mansion, six people discover they abruptly need Donald for something all at once. The worry that begins to break out when they can’t find him anywhere bubbles over into full blown panic as one of them trips into a trashcan, and a bunch of bloody petals are flung out as it goes flying.
———————————————O0—0—0O————————————————
Well! That wasn’t how I was expecting to loose my day. @bamboozledeagle this is your fault, I woke up to your Hanahaki post sitting at the top of my Tumblr dash, and spent the whole rest of the day writing it on-and-off. Then when I went to post it the WiFi crashed :/ so I had to wait a day.
This is completely unedited, so sorry about any glaring mistakes. I probably change style several times and I think I even changed tense once on accident. Oops. Also sorry about the formatting, I wrote it on notepad and then just copy-pasted to here, and only bothered fixing the italics.
The Gladstone/Cloverleaf on display here is my own version that I started playing around with after reading this post by @adamarinayu: https://adamarinayu.tumblr.com/post/176467180262/hey-yall asking for a competent version of Cloverleaf, but haven’t actually written anything with prior to this.
Blessing and Cursing is just what he calls manipulating his luck to make good things or bad things happen to other people. It also has the added bonus of helping protect his identity by making Cloverleaf seem magical instead of lucky.
Oh and Bam, the chicken in a pink cape line is also your fault by the way: *1 https://bamboozledeagle.tumblr.com/post/617956657118511104/i-love-how-in-your-and-other-peoples-aus
Sorry if the links don’t work on mobile.
#ZCQ writes#duckverse#ducktales 2017#hanahaki#gladstone gander#donald duck#fethry duck#cloverleaf#duck avenger#paperinik#only for like a sentence but he gets mentioned#first work in this fandom#june#2020#ZCQ post#this is how i tag right?
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ok alright alright alright kingdom episode two
kinda disappointed that they only showed half the stages, but that's just an editing thing to draw out the content so you can air for longer, i'm not super surprised about that. i would have liked to evaluate them all at the same time, but at least this gives me time to go more in depth for all of them since they're full stages this time and I wrote 3000 words for last episode when they only had 100 secs. so this format will probably keep me sane for longer, i think.
solid stages all round for them, none had especially glaring flaws on the whole. i'm not gonna do a full ranking for this episode since we haven't seen them all, but i will say that btob’s was my favourite from this set and both ikon’s and tbz’s stages were about equal; they both had things i liked and disliked in equal measure so i'm tentatively giving them the same ranking. full opinions and analysis on each stage below the cut, plus another section of general notes because hey what the fuck did you do to that stage mnet???
and for anyone that’s wondering yes i do have the qualifications. also seriously grab a drink or something because this is LONG.
some general notes
and here i thought this section wouldn't be as big as it was last time because mnet was going to get their shit together about the stage design, but noooooooooooo they had to go and make it worse! thanks mnet i hate it! remember how i said you shot yourself in the foot last time? well ya fuckin kneecapped yourself AND all your idols with this one ya dumb fuckin idiots. alright folks welcome back to stage design 101, my recurring segment where i explain the different types of stage layouts and their effectiveness for kpop idol survival shows, i guess.
ok so last week i covered the basics on theatre in the round and traverse staging, which i’ll link here if there’s anyone new or just wants a refresher. i mentioned that its likely that mnet will switch to an in the round style staging because it offers a lot more freedom for camera movement and also for directional blocking. well, i was wrong. so i'm gonna give you a quick rundown of prosceniums. a proscenium, proscenium arch, or just prosc, is an architectural feature that sits around the front ‘opening’ of the stage that delineates the stage from the audience. if you've ever been in or seen any pictures of old european style theatres it can be quite ornately decorated with scrolling, but it's almost always there in most western theatres. it basically provides your ‘wings,’ which are where you exit off into to get offstage, they provide cover from the audience sitelines. pretty much any theatre where the audience is directly opposing the stage across the 180 degree line is a proscenium stage, even if it doesn't physically have the arch. hell, movie theatres are prosc stages. now, there's a secondary architectural feature/device called a false proscenium, where you set a second, smaller archway inside the first prosc, usually done for a specific effect. think of it like a literal framing device; it's often used to visually signify that ‘this is a play, we are telling a story, please be aware that this is a play thank you.’ but sometimes, it can be a semi-permanent structure that’s set in place to narrow the prosc opening. we had this at my university, there was a false prosc set just inside the actual prosc because the stage had a hilariously big prosc opening for a university that never had casts larger than 24 people. so they set false prosc in to make the stage slightly narrower and to widen the wings, because it doesn't matter what size theatre you're in, you always need more wingspace. makes sense? ok, now here’s a very quick drawing of what i'm pretty sure the kingdom stage looks like:
before you get lost: stage directions are oriented to a person standing on the stage, hence SL and SR being reversed. a quick tip for remembering which way is upstage and which is downstage: if you go too far downstage you fall down (most stages are raised between 2-4’ from the floor, so if you step off the end you will actually fall.) the arrows on here signify the entrances i observed during the performances, which is not necessary in this explanation but i just thought it was interesting to note. still not entirely sure what the surrounding architecture is but it appears that the stage is a raised platform inside a room, and not actually built as part of the building. the ‘house’ is just a technical term for where the audience is, and in this case it's where it looks like most of the film crew and the producers/staff are. there’s pretty clearly a platform upstage centre, and i think there may be some others but i don't care about those right now. what i want to talk about is this dumbass false prosc they set IN THE MIDDLE OF THE STAGE. now i suspect that they did this to solve some problems that they could have had that i don't know about, since i don't know who the stage designer was and what the actual limitations of the space are. but basically they've built two stages and stacked them on top of each other to create one very deep stage, and then separated it off with a false prosc in order to control the size of the space a little better, and possibly to add some visual interest. this stage is functional for its purpose, absolutely, and i think, if mnet actually gave a shit about point of view and camerawork, it could produce some really interesting performances. however, because this stage is so deep, it kind of has the same properties as the traverse stage from before, but just with some big led screens in the middle for reasons. you extra have to pay attention to the directionality because you have all the staff and cameras concentrated in one specific cardinal point, so you have to get creative if you want to crossover between the two sides frequently. again, this is not necessarily bad; restrictions often produce some of the most creative decisions. but! we have not seen a lot of consideration for camera and sightlines and audience pov, hence why i think this setup is dumb: it’s not facilitating the best performances it could.
ok now to the actual performances
btob
this is my favourite of the group because it's very clean lined and utilizes a few simple devices to pretty good effect. i realize these reviews are making me sound like i only like simple performances but i promise this is not at all true i'm just very critical and very picky. let’s start with the costumes, because why not.
costumes
i like these very much, i love modernized traditional clothing in all forms, and these are very well tailored and well coordinated. they do the bulk of the work establishing the theme for the performance, along with the costumes on the backup dancers. personally i would have liked them to be a bit more colourful, à la the teal detailing that was on minhyuk’s final look. i'm getting a bit tired of the whole trend of having groups only wear all dark or all white, or maybe sometimes red if they're feeling spicy. obviously uniform colour is the easiest way to tie a group together visually, but on a show like this i think the groups would actually benefit more from looking distinct from each other internally rather than establishing the group as whole.
i liked that minhyuk had a costume change but i didn't really care for how it was how it was broken down. this is a very personal quibble because i literally have spent years prepping quickchanges but the method it broke down wasn’t the most visually compatible with the garment and felt kinda clunky. please ignore this anecdote it's just me being picky.
set
i loved the forest! a very excellent way to divide the stage area and obscure the weird stage lines/architecture that mnet has made. plus the snow, flowers, and fog? makes a really sharp and immediately indicative atmosphere, a very good use of visual shorthand to establish place.
i didnt love the screens, they reminded me a bit too much of rolling whiteboards from grade school, but they are thematically relevant. also, i feel like we didnt actually get to see about half the choreo for them? fuckin mnet and idiocy again. fun use of rear projection with the dancers’ shadows, and also good use of them to direct traffic, if you will.
personally i think that the sheet gimmick from tbz’s performance would have been a better fit here instead of the screens, especially since the fabric motif was already established at the very beginning of the performance. plus you can do some really fun shadow work with a stretch fabric screen.
personally i think there could have been a little bit more integration between the forest area and the screen area, or they could have done the whole thing in the forest space, but that would require a bit more consideration of camera and choreo maneuverability
sound
really liked this arrangement, obviously the song is iconic but they added a more traditional instrument sound. has good structure for the loose narrative that they had and they were well to label this as ‘theatre’ version because this did follow very closely to a traditional musical theatre sound and style
lighting
no complaints. the overall theme for this episode is apparently blue and red? again with them i like their dedication to a limited colour palette and i especially like the blossoms at the climax
staging
there was pretty clear camera choreo and a minimum of nausea inducing moves. i think some of the effectiveness of the staging got chopped by the editing but that’s not really btob’s fault.
i was just saying i wanted them to give minhyuk some time to shine, i was not expecting to get it so soon! this is a very smart choreo that proves you can be interesting without doing a lot of tricking. minhyuk obviously did a lot of practice and work with that sword, his movements are very fluid and he knows how to handle it. and it looks like its either a blunted proper blade or a correctly weighted replica. a lot of the times when sword choreo looks fake it's because the person either hasn't had enough practice or the weapon is not weighted/weighted incorrectly. only complaints are that you would never hold your fingers/palm that close and un-anchored over the edge of the blade, which is just a safety thing. also you would never scrape your blade on the ground like that, nor toss the thing like dead fish but that's a respect thing with a live blade and this is clearly done for dramatic effect so i’ll forgive it. please ignore this anecdote also it’s just my third dan getting uppity.
ikon
costume/set
smart thematically to go with the sort of miscellaneous 30s-40s (western) aesthetic because it's the fastest way to make it look like you built a theme with mnet’s weird pseudo art deco nonsense they've inexplicably got going on in the set dec. however, they should have stuck the theme all the way through, it would have been more visually cohesive and more interesting. we expect more hiphop/electronic sounding songs to come with these kinds of 4th gen costumes, it would have been anachronistic in a fun way to have them do that second half in 40s style suits. here’s a performance from sdc3 that uses that kind of anachronistic play (this was a combo stage with two ballroom dancers and it has a 20s aesthetic but close enough.) also here’s another routine from sdc3 that does a similar effect on a much more abstract scale, and also it’s a fucking incredible performance and it got slept on by the captains. also yes i know these are incredibly experienced career dancers but they way they construct narrative within their routines and their stage presence is SO GOOD.
do not speak to me about the backup dancers costumes, holy shit i hate them. i hate them so much. how do you manage to hit too shapeless AND too fitted in the same fell swoop? i'm so mad at these. i'm neutral on bodycon dresses on the best of days but these were absolutely the wrong choice for this stage. generally kpop has abysmal costuming for female backup dancers on the whole but this is just like.....especially lazy. the point of the costume are to help give an indication of where and when you set your performance. they started off with a vaguely 40s theme and then jumped abruptly modern. why? also skirts like that are the literal worst choice for dancing in, hello?? the men’s looks are just sloppy, when you have a garment that big you want it to serve a purpose within the choreo, whereas with this it's just hiding the dancers’ movements.
as for ikon themselves, see everything ive said about black on black on black styling in the previous two reviews.
the actual set is minimal and that's tragic. i mentioned mnet’s weird art deco theme and it was smart of them to try and play off that with a lack of stuff. definitely a mismatch of stuff pulled from yg’s prop storage, but they made it work as well as they could. no other meaningful comments i’m just kinda sad about it.
sound
the arrangement is fine, no complaints from me. they keyed up the old hollywood style musical theatre sound in the beginning which i really liked. i didn't mind the song/tone switch, i think they pulled it off.
staging
same as btob they learned more towards a theatrical style, which is smart for this particular format of show. i think this was the smartest staging of these three, and also i think the only ones to not get the crew in shot.
despite seemingly leaning into a more old hollywood style the narrative was a bit too loose for my taste. i'm not sure what i would have done to make it clearer at this moment since they had so little to work with, but i did get by on my previous knowledge of the songs. that shouldn’t be the only indication of narrative though! all elements need to support it!!
also like btob they had a pretty intentional point of direction and there weren't a crazy amount of spins. they also used the camera cuts the most effectively that i've seen so far. the first half is actually all in one take!!! incredible!!! thank you!!!! this is how you do it!!
the lighter flick gimmick was well pulled off and a good example of how to use a couple of simple tricks to good effect.
ikon as a whole has really great stage chemistry with each other, and they're extremely cohesive performers. this is a really strong physical performance from them, the dance was very solid and clean. good use of levels without verging into acrobatics. this might be the best group choreo i've seen so far, but we’re not very far so that's not a very high bar to clear.
it's a shame they had the budget of 1 banana.
tbz
i liked this stage better than their intro stage, but i still think they have a long way to go and they're still over ambitious. personally i find stages based on specific pop culture properties to be kind of twee and ineffectual, because it requires a specific knowledge of that pop culture property to work. sometimes the specificity can help with a narrative but you're at risk of alienating a larger portion of your audience out of sheer non-knowledge than anything else.
costumes
again, interesting garments physically, but not much clarity of relation to the theme other than the colour. also the backup dancers???? another case of backup dancers being from an entirely different stage, what is up with those coats/dresses? looked more like they belonged in either sweeney todd or a vampire movie.
hands in front of the camera again, but these were used much more effectively. i'm not the biggest fan of mixing metals and i’m partial to silver on the whole so i didn't love the jewelry, but at least it was vague and stereotypical enough to denote ‘fire magic’ even if it does rely on a derivative middle eastern shorthand.
set
the stage set itself is fine, although definitely feels a bit haphazard to me. doric columns and frozen rocks and whatever that cover for the pyrotechnics was at the front, combined with the candles and the chaise lounge? like ikon, it felt a bit like they were pulling out of the props/set storage. not that all these things do not work together, it's just that you need a thread to tie them together, and this didn't have that for me.
sound
it's a crime they have a song called ‘no air’ and its not a jordin sparks cover. just saying.
i didnt really like this arrangement, again like their intro stage it didn't have a strong structure that suited the narrative, because they were pretty clearly trying a narrative on this one. also were most of the adlibs playback? they were singing live but there were so few shots of anyone specific singing.
lighting
probably the weakest of the three. the projection design was a bit too tacky for me, and although i appreciated the small amount of variety in colour, it felt way too concert-lighting for me.
staging
the editing on this stage is wack and did no one any good. the hands leading/pov was a really smart device and they should have stuck out the one takes like ikon did, it would have made the whole stage feel a bit more cohesive. a lot better directional camerawork from them this time around, well done. again with the hands in front of the camera gimmick which i actually preferred this time, since they were a part of the narrative. the stretch/silhouette fabric i think they pulled off quite well, even if it didn't really fit thematically with the piece. i actually worked on a show a very long time ago that used this exact same effect with dancers and also rear shadow projection, and it requires a lot of rehearsal and trust to pull off well, so props to them. i think it was the wrong choice because there isn't an established motif for the fabric, so it kind of appears out of nowhere for one specific visual moment and then disappears, and i think that time could have been better served for something else narratively relevant.
again, these 4th gen groups are overly focussed on gimmicks as a way to make up for the lack of experience. personally i think this will be detrimental in the long run, and a reliance on gimmicks means that you don't trust your performers. tbz have the manpower to be doing some pretty cool collective dance work and i dont think its being trained or utilized correctly. they are suffering from a lack of cohesive stage presence right now and that can be fixed with training and time.
this might be because the group sizes are so different between these three but this choreo is very directionless. mnet is also providing to be absolute garbage at editing and i feel like i can't see the choreo at all.
this is a thing i've noticed with kpop camerawork in general, there’s very little regard for actually viewing the choreo as a singular work. and for some reason the camera always needs to be moving???? people do actually want to see what’s happening on the stage. the choreographer can only see from one spot, so from that spot is how they are intending it to look. you wouldn't need to upload full cams of every music stage if you just filmed the choreo properly in the first place. if you watch the two sdc3 clips i linked you can see a clear difference in maintaining the integrity of the choreo, even though both shows use several cameras and a lot of cuts. obviously for kpop you want the money shots of idols’ faces but i definitely think there’s a healthier middle ground than what we have now.
ill wait for full subs but i want to know where in the fuck in sk you can rent a tank thas clearly been custom made for underwater photography, because that’s extremely cool even if it was absolutely unnecessary to the actual stage itself. i can think of several ways off the top of my head that would have achieved that same freezing effect without any of that wasted time and effort.
mnet decided to drop full cams while i was writing this and despite watching those my opinions are the same.
in conclusion, some more general thoughts:
i think ikon and btob got it right by leaning more into the theatrical than the cinematic, if that makes sense. i might be talking up my own ass here but these are theatre performances, and they should be treated as such. trying to do things that you can do on film isn't going to do you any favours in the long run, and it makes it harder to make a cohesive performance. i’m harping a lot about narrative but it is so important to performance. although it is not technically necessary, when doing big theatrical performance stages like this it does help with clarity of intent and general success. humans have brains structured around storytelling, it is literally the way our history has been passed down for tens of thousands of years. the atlantic published an article recently on narrative and memory, and it's a really excellent read for maybe after you've taken a break from this behemoth, oh dear god.
tldr: the stages were good but disappointing in their own ways. mnet continues to sabotage via weird stage design decisions and bad editing. see you next week! (or in my ask box if you have questions)
#kingdom review#kpop analysis#kingdom#oh dear lord this is almost 4k#to anybody that actually reads this thank you and im sorry#text
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My top 10 list for who I WANT as DLC in Smash
We’re reaching the end of an era. Smash Ultimate’s DLC is going to end eventually, with four more characters to be announced. They could release some kind of ‘Echo Pack’ in the future, which I would be hyped about (They didn’t really do much with the echo fighter mechanic), But I have a feeling that after this, there won’t be any more. So I wanted to post my list of who I, specifically, would like to see in the game.
This is not based off of likelihood, as some of these characters probably don’t even have a chance of making it in. I just think they would be neat.
Full list under the cut, counting up from #10
- Papyrus (UNDERTALE)
Okay, so hear me out.
We got the Sans mii skin, and that was by far one of the most popular mii skins since Geno, probably. People were more excited for the Sans mii skin than Terry Bogard and maybe even Banjo. They probably made a lot more money than expected from it. So why not try it again?
And while Sans is the popular character, he definitely is not a fighter. He’s a lazy, laid back character that just wants to have fun, but he’s far too weak to go into an all-out battle without risking his own safety.
HOWEVER!
Sans’s brother, Papyrus, is the polar opposite. He’s dedicated, hardworking, and can take quite a few hits. He’s got plenty of moveset opportunity. And it would be another indie rep, which is really really good for someone like me, who wants to go into game design.
Another thing: When we got the Cuphead mii skin, we also got Cuphead Spirits. They could have easily done that with Undertale, there’s enough characters. So maybe they’re saving it for a DLC Spirit board? I don’t know, just a theory.
He would be primarily a ground-based fighter, with projectiles that could crawl across the stage like that one sparky item. He could also use his blue attack, which could be good for an easy spike on airborne characters. And, who knows, maybe for his final smash we could finally see his special attack.
I really enjoy Undertale, and seeing Sans as a mii skin made me super happy. Getting a whole fighter from the series would be even cooler.
- Paper Mario (Super Paper Mario)
Nintendo, we’ve got three whole Links in this game, but only two Marios? Preposterous!
With that being said, Super Paper Mario was one of my favorite Wii games (Although I didn’t play it until very recently) And it’s a very popular series. He’s essentially his own character separate from Mario at this point. The games have so much lore put into them, and we already have a Paper Mario Stage in the game, so maybe we could get Dimentio’s dimension, or the Origami Palace or something.
He’s been in enough games and done enough crazy things to earn a pretty diverse kit for himself. He could use Pixils, the 1000-Fold arms, or even summon Paper Bowser, Peach and Luigi for some attacks.
I think he would be super fun to play. I’m terrible at vanilla Mario, but I think Paper Mario would be a good fit for the game AND be a super good-feeling character. However, this comes from a G&W main, so take from that what you will.
- King Boo (Luigi’s Mansion)
I 👏 want 👏 more 👏 villains 👏 in 👏 Smash! 👏
King Boo is a staple of the Luigi’s Mansion series as well as being an enemy for Mario in some games like Sunshine. He’s the Big Bad Evil Guy for Luigi.
And I DEFINITELY want him in this game.
It’s not so much the character himself, although King Boo is really good, I want him in for his kit. Think about it. A large character but with floaty jumps like Jigglypuff and an aerial based moveset AND a teleport? He’d be ruthless. And really fun. And that’s what I’m looking for in a character.
- BOTW Zelda (Hyrule Warriors: Age of Calamity)
Yes, I know. “But Worm, the Zelda we have now is annoying and awful, and you say you want ANOTHER one?!?!?” Well, you’re half right.
Yes, Zelda is known for her darkness-sealing powers in BOTW, BUT, in the recent Age of Calamity game, her moveset for almost have the game revolves around the Sheikah Slate. She uses it creatively, hopping around on ice and whirling metal slabs around with a magnet. And I think that would be a SUPER cool moveset for Smash Bros.
And who knows, maybe they would call back to older games and allow her to switch to using her powers, like Zelda used to change into Sheik.
She would be very technical, with her attacks being powerful but with some startup, almost similar to Snake of all characters. And for her final smash she could use a Weak Point Smash or they could bring back Bow of Light (Which was MUCH more fair than the current one, by the way). She’d be fun, and that’s what I want.
- Maxwell (Scribblenauts)
Maxwell is from Scribblenauts, a game where you have to solve puzzles by writing words in a notebook and those words coming to life. So he’s work in the same way in Smash, although much more randomized.
For his neutral special, maybe he could write a random item and it shows up in his hand. That would be funny AND cool, and it’s possible (because Peach does the same thing with Turnips!). He could use projectiles but also have plenty of close range options, and for a Final Smash he could use the Meteor, which in the game clears the screen of living things. Brutal! He also uses Adjectives on both his creations AND himself, so maybe for some moves he could effect the other opponent with a poison or freeze effect.
Would he be banned in competitive play? Yes. Would he still be fun? Definitely!
- Jibanyan (Yo-Kai Watch)
I may be in the minority here, but I REALLY liked Yo-Kai Watch as a game. It may seem like a cheap Pokemon ripoff, but the gameplay is nothing like it at all. You’re given a map to explore and various objectives within the map, and the battle system is really creative and fun. It’s actually the inspiration for some of my own games. Yo-Kai watch deserved more credit than it got.
Jibanyan is the poster boy for the series (and also has the saddest backstory of any cat-based character ever), and mainly attacks with both his paws and fire attacks. He could have fire-based moves and would almost play similar to Pichu. His final smash could be Paws of Fury, his soultimate move, that would hit like Donkey Kong’s final smash as a flurry of blows.
This series is really well made and thought out, and it deserves more than it got. So please put my boy in Smash, I’m begging you.
- Specter Knight (Shovel Knight: Specter of Torment)
Okay, yes. I know Shovel Knight is the main character of this series. But again, hear me out.
Specter Knight is either the first or second boss you encounter in the main Shovel Knight game, and he’s already got some moveset potential from that alone. However, he also had his own story mode, Specter of Torment, ad let me say, that is a phenomenal game. I’d go so far as to say it’s better than the main Shovel Knight game itself. His controls are quick and easy to pick up. And he has a whole bunch of special abilities you can get as the game progresses, such as a boomerang or even a shadow clone.
His smash moveset would pull most of the specials from the unlockable items he can get, leaving room for an incredible spacing game as well as a good aerial defense, as Specter Knight can both float and do a Dash Slash through enemies for some extra air time.
Shovel Knight is the main character, but Specter Knight obviously has the most soul put into him (Pun not intended). And, again, he’d be fun to control.
- Master Hand / Fighter Hand (Super Smash Bros. Series)
This is mostly me just being mad at the game for giving us a playable Master Hand, but only once. We couldn’t have even gotten a Master Mode in extras, huh?
Yes, yes, I know Master Hand is the staple boss character for Smash Bros. He’s been in every game, for crying out loud! I’m honestly surprised it took them this long to give us a playable Master Hand. But this leads into my idea:
A new hand, made specifically to fight in Smash Bros, called Fighter Hand.
Yes, it’s cheesy. Yes, it’s stupid. But hey, it would be fun.
He would have scaled-down versions of Master Hand’s moves, with mainly projectile-based specials and tilts. He would be floaty, although introducing a flying character would be interesting to see how they balance it. For a final smash, maybe they could bring back Master Core from Smash 4 for a Giga Bowser-esque punch.
- The Knight (Hollow Knight)
Hollow Knight is an Indie Game that I never finished (I’m working on it, okay?) that’s kind of like Metroid in the way it’s played. It's also a very popular game, and I like bugs, so they get the number two spot because I like him.
And the special Soul moves you unlock translate well into Specials. Platformers always translate well into Smash, so he would work very well in the game. I don’t know what their moveset would be (as I haven’t finished the game yet), but I know they would be a small, fast character that mainly uses their nail to attack like a sword.
And my most wanted character in Super Smash Brothers: Ultimate is...
- Beatrix LeBeau (Slime Rancher)
Okay, look. I’m aware this has zero chance of happening. Slime Rancher was never the most popular game, and Nintendo has never mentioned it ever. But it’s one of my favorite games, and I just think Beatrix would be an incredible character in Smash Bros.
She would use her jetpack to recover, she would shoot plorts as projectiles, use he vacpac to suck up both fighters and projectiles, and maybe shoot a boom slime as an explosive and unpredictable bouncing hazard. Her smash attacks and aerials would use the various slimes you can vacuum up and feed in the game, like the Rad Slime and Rock Slimes. She would be really good offstage and onstage with her weakness being her speed.
She could bring a LOT to this series, and it would be another inspirational indie rep. And, hey, Minecraft Steve got in. Who knows at this point.
Anyway, there’s my list. Feel free to argue with me or explain why Geno should be on my list (I will not care) in the comments or reblogs, this list is not changing unless I play some new game that I feel should be represented.
#smash bros#super smash bros#super Smash Bros ultimate#super Smash Bros dlc#Smash Bros dlc#ssbu#papyrus#undertale#paper mario#king boo#luigi's mansion#zelda#BOTW zelda#BOTW#age of calamity#maxwell#scribblenauts#jibanyan#yo-kai watch#specter knight#shovel knight#specter of torment#master hand#hollow knight#Beatrix lebeau#slime rancher#ultimate dlc#ssbu dlc
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Curiosity
Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x Jedi!Reader
Summary: You are a Jedi trained by Master Windu that is curious about understanding the Force fully, including the Dark Side, for greater good of all. Anakin is all too willing to help you on your journey.
Warnings: SMUT
Word Count: 4520
A/N: This is my first Star Wars fic ever so I’m sorry if it sucks but I tried! Enjoy!
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During a brief stop to Naboo, you found yourself sitting on the shore of a crystal blue lake. Fields of flowers rolled over hills for miles behind you and the mountains reflected in the water ahead of you. You inhaled the clean, fresh air, a nice contrast to the air in the cities you always seemed to find yourself in on Coruscant.
“Mind if I join you?” Anakin’s familiar voice asked you from behind. You glanced back over your shoulder to see him standing on the stone path behind you, his dark cloak billowing in the slight breeze. For the last several months, the man had come to make you feel things. Things that you were unfamiliar with and that made you uncomfortable yet yearn for more. You’d heard about this thing called love but your master, Mace Windu, had made it clear to you from a young age that romance was off limits to you as a Jedi so for so long, you’d completely pushed it out of your mind. But in the last year, Anakin had an effect on you. Something that pulled your heart, mind, and body to him. Perhaps this was the Dark Side trying to pull you?
With a warm smile, you shook the thoughts from your head, “Of course.” He stepped towards you before settling besides you on the ground in the small patch of grass. “It’s beautiful here. I wish we’d never leave.”
Anakin shifted beside you, looking over your face and admiring the way the sun shone on your skin and lit up your eyes. He loved the way you looked like this. Free and soft. You’d been raised in the order, like him. Your whole life revolved around being a Jedi and it showed in your typically composed, polite, strong demeanor.
“I know what you mean. Each planet has its beauty but there’s nothing like this.” He agreed, using all his willpower to not add but it’s not as beautiful as you.
You inhaled deeply and lied back in the grass with closed eyes. This was such a nice break. You lived, ate, and breathed being a padawan. Your entire life revolved around becoming a Jedi. While you loved the honor you’d been given, feeling that you could help so many people with your power, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander.
“Do you… never mind.” You began, about to let yourself reveal a thought you’d had that you felt jeopardized your whole life in the Jedi Order.
Anakin looked over to you with furrowed eyebrows, “What is it, Y/N? You can tell me.”
You bit your lip, wondering if you really could tell him. Would he tell Obi Wan? Would he go to the Council? But something deep inside you told you that perhaps he might feel the same.
With a shaky breath, you fessed up, “Have you ever thought that maybe they don’t tell us everything?”
“What do you mean?” He asked, watching as you sat up.
You picked the grass around you but avoided eye contact, just in case your suspicions were wrong, “I mean what if the Council doesn’t tell us everything about the Force? As Jedi, we’re supposed to help everyone but how can we help if we don’t understand everything? We are questioned and ridiculed for feeling emotions, flagged as hazards for being scared or angry. We have to take vows of celibacy and ignore lust or any romantic feelings. I even feel ridiculed by Master Windu for feeling happy! I feel like we vow to lose what makes life worth living just to keep possible temptation from the Dark Side at bay.”
You paused, knowing that your next words were going to be what tipped everything, “What if it’s all for nothing? I know we’ve seen so many people who’ve turned to the Dark Side become evil but what if it doesn’t have to be that way? I think that in order to truly understand and harness the Force, we need to understand all of it, including the Dark Side. Maybe it’s possible to harness the powers of the Dark Side for good.”
“It is the Jedi way to follow those rules and to fight the Dark Side,” Anakin explained to you and your heart dropped, your fears coming to light that this was a bad idea, “but I think I agree.”
Your eyes shot up to him in shock, “You do?”
He nodded, “I’ve heard stories of amazing powers harnessed using the Dark Side, powers that could be used for good.”
“Is it truly the Dark Side that is bad or is it just the people who harness its power?” You wondered aloud, looking over the lake as you pondered.
“Anakin! Y/N! We are leaving now!” Obi-Wan’s voice called you both from the top of the path.
“Yes, Master.” You and Anakin said in unison, heading back to the ship.
****
“Worried I am for your padawans.” You could hear Master Yoda’s voice clearly in your mind despite the fact that you were walking alone to your living quarters. It stopped you clear in your tracks and you couldn’t help the confused and curious look on your face. Hearing voices from seemingly nowhere was nothing new to you but this still took you by surprise.
No other words were spoken but you knew he was talking about you and Anakin and your heart raced with fear. You needed to know what was being said. If Yoda was speaking about both you and Anakin in terms of fear and worry, you knew it wasn’t a conversation had in public. You quickly made your way to the room the High Council held their meetings but stopped just outside the closed door.
Despite the fact that the door was closed, you could still hear a muddled version of their voices through the wall.
“I see the way they look at each other but they are young, Master. I will speak to Anakin today and straighten things out.” Obi-Wan tried to reason with the small Jedi Master but he was cut off.
“No. Not love am I worried about in them but the Dark Side.” Yoda stated bluntly.
“Master, since rescuing Y/N from Dathomir as a child and training her myself for over ten years, I can assure you that I have taken every precaution to prevent her from being tempted by the Dark Side.” Master Windu came to your defense with strong conviction in his voice. “Moreso with her than any other padawan I’ve trained.”
“I agree,” Obi-Wan chimed in, “And I know that Anakin’s strong emotions have always been a worry for the Council but we have been very cautious with him as well. I believe that if we push them in the right direction, we shan’t have much to fear.”
“We cannot babysit them, Obi-Wan,” Yoda nearly scolded, “Y/N is a very curious girl with very loud thoughts. She wants only to help people but believes she needs the Dark Side to do it. Questions the Jedi way, she does. And Anakin too questions. But he is driven by fear and anger.”
You tried to stay quiet as you listened in, unsure of what punishment would await you if they knew you’d eavesdropped on them, but you couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Yoda could somehow hear your thoughts? Was that even possible? What did this mean? A million questions ran through your head but were interrupted by Master Windu speaking again.
“Then we will distract them both. Keep them in training or working with us more often. Prevent their minds from wandering anywhere except the Light Side.” His deep voice suggested.
“We can exaggerate the good of the Light Side and show them the dangers of the Dark Side.” Obi-Wan added.
“I fear it may be too late.” Yoda said in a low, sad tone.
“Have you seen it?” Windu asked. Gosh, you wished you could be in the room without them knowing.
“Whether they turn fully to the Dark Side, I cannot see. But I do see them giving into temptations that are not of the Jedi way.”
The momentary silence between the three men said everything and nothing at once.
“I see.” Master Windu simply stated.
“Then I guess we should do whatever it takes to keep them from turning.” Obi-Wan, as usual, sounded hopeful. It amazed you that he could always sound so calm, nurturing, and optimistic.
Feeling like the door was about to open any moment, you moved as quickly and quietly as you could down the hall. The entire time, you looked behind you, terrified the three Jedi masters would be heading down the hall in time to see you.
“Woah! Y/N, are you alright?” Your body came to an abrupt halt when Anakin apparently caught you from running into him by your shoulders.
Your eyes were wide, not believing that of all people in this building, you ran into him right here and right now. “Come with me.” You grabbed his robes right by the chest and dragged him to your quarters.
Anakin couldn’t deny that he felt odd going in there. It felt wrong. He’d never been in your room before and with his recent romantic feelings towards you made this seemingly innocent action feel criminal.
When he stepped in, though, he realized that your room was fairly similar to his. It was simply furnished with a queen size bed in the center of the room straight ahead of him. A large window occupied the wall to the right and a closet was open in the wall to the right. A small dresser and nightstand were also to be seen. It was a simple room with the exact same furniture that Anakin had in his. Your sheets were just a deep purple though whereas Anakin’s were black and the room was configured differently.
“What is it, Y/N? What’s wrong?” He asked, unnerved by your fearful expression and on guard.
You sat on the edge of your bed, “I overheard Master Yoda speaking with Master Kenobi and Master Windu.”
“About us?” Anakin asked, stepping towards you. He couldn’t imagine that they possibly could have known about your conversation on Naboo but what else could this be about?
You nodded, “They’re worried we’re going to turn to the Dark Side. I don’t know how but Master Yoda knows about what we were talking about.” Your mind kept racing, “And that’s not all… Master Yoda said that he sees us giving into the temptations of the Dark Side.”
Anakin looked serious, not that he didn’t usually, but this was different. If the Jedi Council saw you as threats, who knew what they would do? “He foresaw us turning to the Dark Side?” He asked, trying to process everything.
You shook your head, “Not exactly. He said he couldn’t see whether or not we turn fully. Just that we do something that’s not in the Jedi code. What do you think they’re gonna do?”
Panic began to rise in your chest as images of possibilities raced through your mind. Anakin hurried forward to sit beside you, a large hand coming to rest comfortingly on your cheek as he stared into your eyes, “Hey, don’t you worry about that. They won’t do anything. I can feel it.”
Your eyes were stuck in his. Gosh, you hated this! His eyes held such care and worry for you. They sparkled with strength and comfort but also with power. It was like looking into the ocean, powerful yet necessary for life. Right now, you felt like you were truly living when you were with him. And you couldn’t deny that the powerful energy radiating off of him was intoxicating.
“They said they’re going to keep us as far from the Dark Side as possible. To keep showing us the good in the Light. I know there’s nothing really to fear in that but… I just feel like I need to know. I need to know how to harness all sides of the Force. I know they won’t understand it but it’s for the good of everyone. If I could only explain it. I feel like maybe Obi-Wan would understand.” You felt like you were pleading your case when there was no jury deciding your fate. Anakin understood why you felt the way you did. He, too, shared your sentiments on some things.
He gingerly settled an arm behind your back, not quite touching you but enough to feel comforting, “I completely understand. How do you plan to go about learning about the Dark Side?”
You sighed, “Honestly, I never got that far. I always figured that I would never do it. That I’d be too afraid to break the Jedi code. But now… I don’t know. All I can think about are these restrictions and the fear that the Council has for us and I just want to show them that they’re wrong.”
“So you need a way to test the waters. Don’t plunge in fully and commit to the Sith or anything. Maybe you could try something small. I’ll be here to pull you back.” Anakin suggested, curious himself to see how this goes. He trusted you to be able to teeter on the edge without falling over.
You looked at him in shock, “Really? Right now?”
Anakin shrugged, “Why not? Here. Try starting with just allowing yourself to feel emotions. What makes you angry or scared?”
You thought for a moment. “I’m angry that the Council controls every aspect of my life but I’m scared of what will happen if I follow through with this.” The thoughts kept spiraling. All the “Yes, Master” “No, Master” nerfherder shit came into your mind. You hated it, always had. You couldn’t stand that your entire life revolved around what other people told you to do. Constantly! It was only what others told you to do! You were angry that your parents had been killed and that you’d never see them again. You were terrified of what would happen when Master Yoda and Windu found out about this.
Suddenly, you shook your head, “No, I can’t. I don’t know how to feel like this. I feel out of control. I need something that I feel more in control of.” The further fear you felt from your emotions sent an almost buzzing feeling through your body that originated in your chest. It felt like when you harnessed the Light Side of the Force but times ten. It was strong and terrifying.
Anakin put a hand on your leg, “Don’t worry, Y/N. You don’t have to continue if you don’t want.”
Your hands rubbed nervously on your thighs and you suddenly felt less like a Jedi than you ever had before. Jedi weren’t supposed to be afraid or angry but you felt both. But wasn’t that the point.
“What if,” Anakin started, biting his lip as he spoke, as if he wondered whether or not he should continue, “What if instead of anger or fear, you try to use sexual desire as a safer path?”
He had a point. You chewed your lip in thought, “You’re right. Maybe since it can be rooted in love or care for another person, there could be a balance of love and lust. Control.”
“Is there anyone you love?” Anakin asked simply.
Your heart sank. Of course there was but you couldn’t ask him to sacrifice his whole life’s work so you could pursue a path that could possibly lead you to destruction. You couldn’t allow him to take that chance. “Not anyone I can have.” You replied, a sad tone lingering in your voice.
Anakin almost snorted slightly, a small smile of his face and joking tone in his voice, “Well if you think in those terms, we can’t have anyone.” You chuckled slightly in response. You supposed that when you heard it from his point of view, it was an obvious statement. If only he understood what you meant.
“Maybe… maybe we could…” He started and you knew exactly what he meant.
“No,” You put your hands on his arm, “You can’t Anakin. I can’t let you sacrifice everything you’ve worked for for me.” Even though your mind told you that this couldn’t happen, your heart screamed for you to stop pushing him away.
Slowly, Anakin’s hand moved from your knee to gently hold your hands. Your eyes flashed to see his fingers holding yours gently but surely and then back to his face which was gentler than you’d seen it in a long time, “I care for you, Y/N. Deeply. More than a friend or a colleague. I know that I shouldn’t but I do. And if we act out of love then how can we be wrong?”
An unfamiliar feeling rose in your gut. “You love me?” Your voice was almost a whisper. “I think I love you too.”
You hadn’t realized until now just how close you two were. Anakin’s face was just inches from yours and your arms almost touched. His eyes flickered from your eyes to your lips, “If we act out of love then how can we be wrong?” His lips came to touch yours for the first time, gently at first. It felt like something burst inside you, a dam that held back all of your emotions. You needed him now like the flowers needed the sun.
His large hand came to cup your cheek gently before sliding to cradle the back of your head as he laid you back onto your bed, coming to hover over your body. The kiss became deeper and needier with every passing moment. You reached up and tangled your fingers in his long sandy hair, finding his long thing padawan braid and twirling it with your finger. You laid it gently over his shoulder with a small giggle. Anakin stopped, feeling your smile against his lips. “What?” He asked, amused by your actions.
“Nothing, I just can’t believe this is happening.” You admitted with an embarrassed smile.
Anakin’s deep blue eyes scanned over your face with utmost admiration, “Stars, you are so beautiful.”
Was this what it felt like to be loved or least admired? Your parents died when you were a young child on Dathomir where Master Windu found you and took you in, sensing your powers and needing to protect you from the dark influences on your home world. But even that wasn’t love. He was a father figure but it was more of respect than love. Now, feeling real love from Anakin, you think you liked it.
You reached around his neck and gently pulled him back down to you, reveling in the feeling of waist between your legs, his chest pressed against your breasts, and his lips against your neck. A quiet moan left your lips when his teeth raked slightly against that spot on your neck that made your toes curl. Anakin smirked against your skin when he felt it the way your body reacted and paid extra attention to that spot, sucking on it.
As much as you hated to, you pulled his hair softly, pulling him away from your neck, “We can’t leave any marks, Ani. They’ll know.”
Ani. He quite liked the way that sounded from your lips. He trailed kisses down your neck until your skin disappeared beneath your light tan robes that covered just below your collarbones. With cautious hands, he came to massage your breasts through your clothes. Your hands snaked down between your bodies to undo your brown belt and discarded it on the floor.
Anakin brushed the now loose fabric away from your body, leaving you in your undergarments. He leaned back to stand now, removing his own clothes before your curious eyes. Stars, he was gorgeous. Muscles stretched across his body in defined shapes that you couldn’t have imagined to be this beautiful. “You’re staring.” He pointed out.
“Sorry.” You shook out of your daze, your cheeks heating up from being caught.
He crawled back over you, snaking an arm behind your lower back and spinning you confidently to straddle to him. You caught your bearings, bracing yourself on his chest. Now you leaned down to kiss him, grinding your clothed core on his semi-hard erection beneath his underwear. A quiet moan fell from his lips, delicious music to your ears. His hands came up to grasp your ass firmly, kneading as he moved your hips in a steady motion against his crotch.
You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to fully feel everything, to experience the moment in its entirety and to allow yourself to get lost in the lust. You needed to stop holding back your raw primal emotions like the Jedi had taught you and give into it.
You thought about the way his hands felt on your ass, the sparks that each rock of your hips sent to your core, the thrill of allowing another person to see you like this, the sound of Anakin’s little grunts and hisses of pleasure, the way his hair looked strewn across your sheets.
Anakin pressed himself up to sit up, one arm supporting your lower back as you still rocked your hips onto him. He lowered his forehead to rest against yours, both of your eyes screwed tight as you panted. Suddenly, you felt his hand snake between your bodies and pull your undergarments aside, rubbing your clit. Your mouth dropped open in a silent moan, the feeling unfamiliar and amazing. Your hands gripped his shoulders tightly as you moaned out his name, “Oh Ani…”
His lips captured yours again in a kiss. You reached behind your body to undo your bra and allowing it to fall, your bare nipples now rubbing freely against his smooth, toned chest. The stimulation from everything drove you wild and you were almost embarrassed to admit how wet you were getting.
You rolled over again and Anakin pulled your underwear down for good, rubbing his tip between your folds, “Are you ready? We can turn back now.” He reassured, brushing a piece of stray hair from your face.
You took a deep calming breath, “Yes, I’m ready.” He nodded and slowly pressed into you, inch by inch, allowing you to adjust to being filled up.
“Oh my- you feel so good.” Anakin managed to choke out, using all his strength to hold himself back from busting then and there.
It didn’t hurt as bad as you expected, the stretch feeling better than you’d expected. It was an adjustment but after a few moments you held onto his forearm, “You can move now.” You urged, needing some sort of movement.
His motions started shallow and slow at first, every movement a new sensation. When you started moaning, though, he took it as a green light to move faster and deeper, not totally pounding into you, but definitely moving at a reasonable pace. “Ani, oh my Stars.” You moaned out, “You are so good.”
Anakin loved hearing the praise you gave him, using it as encouragement to make even more words of praise fall from your lips. He reached down to rub your clit yet again and within no time, you found yourself on the edge. “Ani, I think I’m gonna-” You couldn’t even finish your sentence, the immense pleasure building up too high.
Your walls clenched around him as you fought to stave off your orgasm and prolong this moment for as long as possible but Anakin had other plans. He sped up his movements on your clit and lifted your leg to rest on his shoulder, hitting a spot inside you that had you seeing stars.
With your eyes screwed shut, you were unable to see it happening but Anakin noticed as slowly things around the room began to float off the ground. The Force was strong in the room with you two. Even though he felt it, he knew that he wasn’t the one causing the objects to float but you, a new strength that allowed you to move these objects with such unconcentrated ease.
For you, though, the intense things you felt, emotionally and physically, were too much to even notice what you were doing. You were done for, unable to hold off anymore, and came all over his cock that still moved within you.
Anakin kept going, your orgasm rolling and rolling with his movements. Your body felt fuzzy and warm and right. Just before it became too much, Anakin came inside you, the warmth of his seed filling you with a completeness you didn’t know you lacked. When the stimulation stopped, the objects that you’d unknowingly been suspending in the air came crashing to the ground with a thud.
You dropped your legs from his shoulder, sitting up, startled at the loud noise. Anakin, who saw it all happen, though, was unfazed. He slowly slid out of you and lied on the bed beside you, regaining his composure. “Do you feel any different?” He asked, curious to know if this had worked.
You mentally scanned your body, trying to take note of everything you felt, “I feel… amazing. Unrestrained.” You rolled over to look at him, “What about you?”
He was looking at the ceiling at first but turned to you, “I feel powerful.”
Before either of you could further elaborate on the idea, there was a knock on your door, “Y/N? Are you alright?” Obi-Wan’s voice asked from the other side. You jumped out of bed and quickly tied your robes over your body. Anakin leapt off the bed and ran to your closet, closing the door behind him.
Readjusting your braids, you opened the door to reveal a concerned looking Obi-Wan, his hand readied just above his lightsaber, “Master Kenobi, yes. I am alright, just resting from training. Is everything alright?” You lied.
He looked into your room skeptically but noticed that things were in order with the exception of your bed sheets, but, if you resting, that wasn’t all that out of order. And yet, something still felt off to him. “Yes,” He too lied, “I just heard a loud crash from in here.” What he really wanted to tell you was that he was sure he felt the presence of the Dark Side but something within him told him to keep that to himself for now.
“I heard that too. It woke me. But I think it came from down the hall.” You gestured down the hall to your left. Obi-Wan was a skilled Jedi Master and you prayed that he wouldn’t see through your lie.
The older man bowed slightly, “Of course. I’ll go check down there. My apologies for disrupting your rest.”
“Don’t be, Master Kenobi. Have a good day.” Obi-Wan turned back when the door slid shut to your room but he didn’t continue to look for the noise. He knew exactly what he felt and it was no simple noise. The Dark Side now had a presence within the Jedi temple.
#star wars#star wars imagines#anakin#anakin skywalker#anakin x reader#anakin smut#anakin imagines#darth vader#may the fourth be with you
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Damienette arranged marriage: part 13
Credits: Miraculous Ladybug team for the elements I take from MLB show. DC for their characters, @ozmav for the AU, @maribat-archive for giving me access to so many different stories to have take inspirations from, @thyladyanput for idea for Chat Damian and me for the plot.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4
Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8
Part 9 Part 10 Part 11
Part 12
Damienette arranged marriage: part 13
NEXT
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"Shut up Superboy." Damian frowned. He had to restrain himself not to out Kent in front of the irritating girl. He wished he just got Mari home when he had a chance.
"I though we were on the first-name basis Robin!"
The sound of Damian's facepalm could be heard in Fortress of Solitude.
----------------------
"What?" Jon asked confused. He had no idea what he did wrong.
"tt. I am getting that dusters Kent. And if I go down because of you, I am taking you down with me."
Chloe stood there with gaping mouth. Her brain was short-circuiting. The mysterious Damian Wayne dating Marinette? Okay. Them being already married? She heard weirder, but it was close. Him being raised inside of some cult in tibet? Okay. Weirdest day ever. Damian Wayne being Robin? Utterly Ridiculous. And yet he was there, bantering with Superboy like they knew each other for years. And it would add up to his skill with sword. Chloe, contrary to popular belief was not stupid. A bit lazy, prideful, maybe tiny miny mean? Sure. But not stupid. Adding three to seven together is not above her.
"I think I might have broken your wife Damian..." Jon said a bit uncertain while waving his hand in front of the blonde.
Wayne heir held back the urge to facepalm again. "tt.I swear I would feed you to Titus if not the risk you would cause him some stomach problems. This is not my wife!"
"Uh... So she was not supposed to know you are Robin..." Jon asked sheepishly.
"You are an idiot." Damian scowled and turned to Chloe. "Tell anyone and I will hand you to my mother." He then opened his case to reveal his outfit. He looked through his belt. He was sure he had the talisman somewhere...
"You are Robin... And you are Damian Wayne... That means Bruce Wayne is Batman... But you are also married to Dupain-Cheng..." Chloe was murmuring/babbling to herself, trying to sort the influx of information. Finally, Damian pulled a small ruby in golden ring. There were some words around it that were definitely not human. He also pulled a small piece of paper from the same pocket.
"tt. Mother of Azarath! Drain the curse and free the body!" He recited the spell and gem glowed slightly. Then, there was a loud Crack! and the ruby broke, turning almost black.
"Uh... Robin? What was that?"
Damian didn't answer, but instead glared at the kryptonian making him immediately shut up and just float there in silence.
Chloe finally shook off the shock. She walked to him and smashed the lid of the case right in front of him. "I don't care if you are a fucking billionaire superhero! You are not going out there with twisted ankle! You are not making my only friend a widow!"
"tt. I am not sitting here."
"And I don't care." She stated simply and turned to Superboy.
"Kent, right? Keep him here. I am going to get some real help."
"What? You have a bat-signal or something..." Jon stopped when he saw the grin on her face.
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Marinette ran through the city. She had to get to Tikki. The Cat was hot on her trail. No matter how much she tried, he seemed to be able to get her. She tried calling for help, but people just straight up ignored her. She run through the whole crowd and nobody even batched an eye. For a brief moment she wanted to go to her home and grab some other miraculous, but then she remembered that she still had no idea how to open the new box without her yo-yo. There was no instruction on that thing.
She could hear steps above her on the roofs, but luckily the Hotel Grand Paris was already in sight. She doubled her efforts, completely ignoring the pain. Adrenaline coursing through her veins numbed the pain enough to allow for this. Somewhere on the back of her mind she noticed that nobody paid any attention to her. She just ignored it for now and dashed to the elevator. In any normal circumstances stairs would be safer, but she had no way of outrunning Chat d'Amour on stairs. She could only hope that he didn't know she took the elevator
Sadly, he did. She heard something crash with the doors, but luckily the elevator already started going up. She knew he was hot on her trail, but unless he cataclysmed both the doors and the floor, he would not reach her in time. Poor Plagg. Having to experience all this...
When she reached the top floor, she dashed to Chloe's room. She had to get there before Chat could see her. She needed to transform.
Marinette barged into the room and straight to her purse. Kwami floated out. She wanted to say something, but the time was running out. "Tikki! Spots on!"
In a flash of pink light, she was transformed. The lingering pain didn't stop, but she happily noticed that there were no more effects from falling from the roof. Just then, Chat d'Amour entered the room. He was fuming with anger.
"Ladybug!? What have you done with my purrincess?!"
"She is safe away. Probably already downstairs and running away. What happened to you Kitty?" She asked with worry.
"No. You've done something to her. I can't sense her anymore... What have you done to her!" He shouted and lunged at Ladybug, but the red heroine was able to deflect his attacks. He still scratched her several times. The suit stopped all but one of that. A small gush formed on her cheek. Nothing big and blood was minimal.
Marinette focused. He could track her. His akuma power must have included knowing exact location of Marinette Dupain-Cheng. But right now she was not just Marinette. She was Ladybug, so her miraculous cancelled out with his ability. "I gave her mouse miraculous again Chat. You will not find her." She stated, trying to stay calm. This made Black Cat only double his attempts.
"You put her in danger just because of your jealousy?!" He made an overhead slash with his staff, which Ladybug blocked by crossing hands before her and pushing him away. "You are truly useless guardian! You do not deserve this earrings!" Chat was not giving up. He continued his assault.
"I would ask you to step back from the lady." Someone stated in English. Both combatants looked to where it originated only to see a boy wearing superman jacket on himself.
"And who purrr you?" Chat asked also in english. He looked unamused by a thirteen years old boy.
"Superboy. Nice to meet you. 'Ow ya' doin'?" The last sentence was with heavy southern accent that made it a bit hard to understand.
"Huh? Are you what? Superman Junior?" Chat had no idea who was that supposed to be. He seemed like some overly eager fan of the big blue.
"Oh! He is my dad!" Jon lightened up. He was pretty irritated that the cat doesn't know him, but maybe since Paris had their own heroes they didn't pay much attention to the rest of the world.
"Y-your dad?!" Suddenly Chat felt his confidence die. He believed in his abilities, but facing superman, even in version XS was still not something he wished for. Especially since he just wanted his princess.
"What's the matter Kitty? Afraid of a kid?" Ladybug teased. She looked for his Akuma, but there was so much off about him that she could not focus. This was Chat Noir she was talking about. He was... used to be her partner. She had to focus.
"You have no right to call me Kitty! I am Chat d'Amour and you are not my ladybug. You are not even fit to be Ladybug. You are adult but you didn't unlock your full potential! I will take your miraculous and hand them over to Marinette! She is better Ladybug than you! I will just need to borrow them to Hawkmoth for one moment and then I will be together with my true partner!"
"You are delusional Chat."
"Uh... English guys? Jon asked and both Marinette and Chat realized they switched back to French.
"Superboy! Pin him down so I can find his Akumatized object!"
"Cataclysm!" Chat Noir held his hand which was now bubbling with dark energy extended. "Try to get close and I will destroy you!"
"Uh... Ladybug, right?"
"He threatens to cataclysm you."
"Yyyy..."
"His special power is that he can destroy anything."
"Then we might have a problem. Magic can actually hurt Kryptonians..." Jon was suddenly not so eager to engage.
"Huh. Good to know." Chat quipped and lunged at Superboy. Ladybug acted practically on instinct, Tossing her yo-yo and grabbing him by the ankle. She pulled Chat and tossed him back. Perhaps because of the adrenaline or perhaps because of the anger, she underestimated his strength and Black Cat ended up flying out of the window. He used his staff to support his landing, but once he landed to support himself he had to touch the ground and wasted his cataclysm. From the highest level, Ladybug and Superboy could see him look up in defeat as a purple butterfly appeared around his face. He said something, but Jon did not understand French and Marinette couldn't hear him. Suddenly Chat d'Amour was covered in black and purple bubbles and turned back into Chat Noir. He looked angry and run away into the city.
Marinette wanted to chase after him, but suddenly the pain in her heart flared again. She suddenly detransformed and fell on her knees. The green glow around her heart got stronger and she was suppressing the scream of pain.
"I am so sorry Marinette. I tried to heal you... but this is some dark magic. Oh no! I think I made it worse..." Tikki was lamenting while floating next to the girl. The last thing Marinette rememebed before passing out from the pain was a scream and a pair of green eyes staring at her. There might have been some words, but she was unable to hear them.
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Taglist (sorry if I missed you)@pheonixashtree @sassakitty @unabashedbookworm @vixen-uchiha @maggiecc12 @actualdisasterwoman @tired-butterfly @shizukiryuu @floralfi @imanerddealwith @northernbluetongue @krispydefendorpolice @toodaloo-kangaroo @dast218 @bluesoulblueheart @theatreandcomicfreak @disneyfoxuniverse @mindfulmagics @alwaysnumberonetruth @nyaabinch @jardimazul @lenamau @rosep16 @dramatic-squirrel @sonif50 @daminett4life @lulutheawkwardess @weird-pale-blonde-person @mooshoon @jeminiikrystal @mochegato @moonlightstar64 @dragonflyswing @silverwhiteraven @shamefullove @magic-miraculous @valeks-princess @heaven428 @mlbchaosqueen @winter-gardenflower @spicybelladonna @emo-elaine13 @vetilora @karukofox21 @my-name-is-michell @sturchling @lokiifriggasonn @redscarlet95 @melicmusicmagic @interobanginyourmom @the-fusionist @razzledazzle247 @miss-mysterys-blog @darkthunder1589 @i-is-mysterious @catthhay @the-one-woman-army @zestyzealot @dahjokester @write-for-your-life2 @mermaidreject @peachedpocky @sassakitty @dahjokester @crazylittlemunchkin @novicevoice @justafanwarrior @eliza-bitch @schrodingers25
#marinette x damian#maribat#maribat au#damienette#maridami#guardian!marinette#order of the guardians#league of assassins#arranged marriage au#batman#mlb#mlb x dc#miraculous lb#miraculous ladybug
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One: Foster - G
"What are you looking at, Garlond?"
“Oh, nothing. But for a moment I thought perhaps...a half-decent man.”
-
General. Specific male WoL Bas'ir Bahani. Nero tol Scaeva finds himself strangely invested in the Warrior of Light's tinkering.
Also on AO3.
Part of the 2021 FFXIV Writing Challenge
"That seems to be coming along nicely."
Nero speaks casually, but the words have a great and immediate effect. Bas’ir’s tinkering ceases and the frenzy begins with bristling tail and sputtering curse words. The miqo’te drops what he’s working on and flashes a paranoid gaze over his shoulder before realizing where the words have come from.
“Hm? Me? My?” Bas’ir pats his thighs and turns back to his makeshift desk to assess the resulting chaos of his surprise. At least one component has wound up on the bright, industrial floor. For some peculiar reason, he has taken to working in the Interdimensional Rift between Omega’s trials. Nero doesn’t imagine the location is particularly convenient for the boy, but what does a Garlean expatriate know about warrioring and savioring? No, Nero knows engineering, and that’s why he approached today in the first place. Vague, scientific curiosity and nothing more.
“Some manner of converter,” Nero says, more than asks. He’s holding a cup of coffee at his lips and squinting, his other hand on his hip. “Have you taken inspiration from—”
“I have.” Bas’ir collects the tiny silver cube from the floor and sets it back on his desk with a clink. A hint of pride colors the curl of his lips as he turns to face the senior engineer. “Of course I have.”
“Of course.”
“Of course!” Bas’ir folds his hands in his lap. The Warrior is wearing his daily arm; in the past, Nero has seen him switch out the elegant prosthetic for a more precision-oriented model. Something clunkier, louder, impossible to hide beneath a pair of gloves. But Bas’ir isn’t wearing his gloves right now, either. The metal digits of his left hand are bare for the world—or at least for Nero—to see.
Nero sips his coffee. Those digits used to look far more mechanical and move with far less grace. “And what designs do you have for this inspired technology?”
“My goal here is to achieve...to enhance sensation, rather" Bas'ir says with a nod of his head. "And for that, I will need more power at any given moment. My current system affords me little with which to explore less essential functionality."
“Bolstering your reserves, then?” Nero gestures to a mess of thread-thin wires at the edge of the desk. If he has the right of it (and surely Nero tol Scaeva does) Bas’ir is taking a simple trick used by mammeteers and making it much more complicated. Instead of powering the arm with his own energy, he’ll be adding an additional source of fuel to be drawn upon.
“Indeed. More ceruleum to supplement what aether I can reasonably provide.” Bas’ir follows Nero’s gaze and fishes aimlessly for the wires, runs his thumb of flesh over the bunch. At his backside, his tail swishes back and forth, like he’s waiting for something to happen. Both of his ears are perked up and trained on the Garlean.
“Hm.” It will probably work, but Nero lets this go unsaid. With an eyebrow raised, he waves his hand and prepares to take his leave. “You and your aether! Carry on, Bas’ir.” He walks away, headed for his own little workshop in the Rift, where a journal full of recent observations waits to be annotated.
These days spent with Cid’s ragtag bunch of heroes, mechanics, and dreamers have been scientifically compelling, emotionally tolerable. Nero likes playing the villain to his old rival’s stalwart, pioneering image. There’s a spark of glory in pessimistic nagging, although Nero would certainly never verbalize such an admission. In some ways, he has come to enjoy being proven wrong. He has come to enjoy being reacted to, for better or worse. Some of these people make him feel more important, more valued than his Garlean superiors ever did.
Surely this thought pattern is merely a symptom of him needing more coffee, he thinks. He takes a sip and settles into his seat, thumbing at the journal without opening it.
Whirring and buzzing sounds drift from Bas’ir’s table to Nero’s side of the room. Yes, the boy’s plan should work, Nero reckons. Ceruleum may not come so naturally as the body’s pure aether, but should the Warrior find himself lacking for fuel, he will more or less be able to operate without great sacrifice. The arm will move, even if its master cannot pluck two pages apart without keeping an eye on those unfeeling mechanical fingers. The modification shall not pose much hazard to the realm’s apparent savior. The world can rest easy.
But can Nero? He takes another sip. He’s been meaning to clean up these notes for a while now, but his thoughts linger on that converter. It may be new equipment to Bas’ir, but it’s certainly not new to Nero. He’s built them, deconstructed them invented them. Any of the homeland’s machina would be littered with similar components, each a miniature version of the empire itself, collecting power and funneling it to the various places it needs to go. All budding Garlean builders would know how to install one and begin the process of transmuting ceruleum into motion, into battle, into war!
Of course, activating such a device can be tricky for novice engineers. The machinery is swift, efficient; it siphons well and siphons quickly. Normally, the faster it collects its power, the better, but since Bas'ir means to draw in part from his own body, there ought to be safeguards in place to ensure the damn thing doesn't take too much from him too fast.
Bas’ir would know these things, wouldn’t he? He’s been working with adjacent technology for the better part of two years now, loosely under Nero’s guidance, and under Cid’s when that isn’t possible. But what if the silly boy should underestimate the pull of this borrowed gadget? What if he gets too excited about his little ideas and winds up frying himself on his desk, or worse—frying that treasured arm he’s been toiling with since his horrible accident!
Nero stands and starts walking. “Bas’ir, a moment—”
The miqo’te looks over his shoulder with wide eyes. He’s got a thin scrap of metal between his teeth now and a web of wiring between his hands. Nero follows the lines to a large metal box, glowing blue beneath the desk. That can only mean…
“Ah! You’re diverting power from a tertiary source,” Nero says. “How responsible of you.”
Bas’ir nods three or four times and begins looking for a place to set his wires down.
“No, no! Don’t let the likes of me interrupt your experiments.” Nero waves his hand again. “Besides, I am very busy and have very many things to do. So really, you’d be interrupting me.” He turns back for his corner of the Rift, satisfied that no one will see the smug little grin on his face. Why, it almost looks like pride!
Someone does see, though—the worst possible person. Cid, who's been sorting through a supply shipment from Rhalgr's Reach, lifts his head in time to see Nero passing by. They meet eyes and Nero's smile disappears. Was it ever there in the first place? Yes, says the sly look in Cid's eyes. And said smile did not go unnoticed.
"What are you looking at, Garlond?" Nero eyes his rival from the side and shifts his weight to one leg.
Cid pulls himself up from the ground with two hands on a wooden box. “Oh, nothing,” he says. “But for a moment I thought perhaps...a half-decent man.”
Nero’s reaction, like Bas’ir’s earlier, is great and immediate. His head drops forward and his mouth hangs dumbly open in sardonic disbelief. This Garlond! For all his supposed brilliance, he must truly be dense. Nero shakes his head. "I worry for your vision.”
And he certainly doesn't worry for anything else.
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Krenko’s Guide to Pokemon: Mr. Line
“If a tree falls in the woods, and nobody is around to hear it, and it hits a mime, does anyone care?” ~ Gary Larson
DESIGN
Mime Jr.’s actually pretty cute, looking like a tiny little silly clown. The design is a bit generic but also very effective, making it a creature with just enough clown parts so that you know it’s a clown without so many clown parts to look terrifying. It also manages to look a lot like one of those clown-faced ice creams you can get at some places, where the cone is upside down as a hat. The point is, Mime Jr. is a small, cute pokemon that works perfectly fine.
Next is “Kantonian” Mr. Mime, and I put that in quotes because this Pokemon isn’t actually Kantonian. As with Farfetch’d, Mr. Mime is called Kantonian because that’s the first region we as players could get it, but the only ones available in Kanto outside of Let’s Go are either from trades or from the game counter, plus a very tiny amount that appear in the grass patch south of Pallet Town in Gold and Silver but not Red and Blue, implying that someone in Pallet Town has been breeding and releasing Mr. Mimes, and I’m not going to say who, but we all know these Mimes are a certain protagonist’s half-siblings, don’t we?
So where is Mr. Mime from? Well, we’ve established that the first Mr. Mime we met, Marcel, didn’t come from Kanto, and there’s no Mr. Mime in Johto, Hoenn, or Unova. Alola’s a weird one, as they don’t appear in Sun and Moon but they do appear in both Ultra Sun and Ultra Moon. Still, they’re only in one location and Alola is known for having many imported Pokemon. Sinnoh’s a possibility- while the Trophy Garden is clearly cultivated, Mr. Mime and Mime Jr. both appear in the wild in Diamond (but not Pearl). Still, I think the actual natural habitat of this Mr. Mime is the Reflection Cave in Kalos. Not only would a mime Pokemon make the most sense in the Kalos region, but it’d make far more sense for it to be living in a hall of mirrors than simply wandering grasslands as it does in Diamond. Further, this is in much closer proximity to the Galar Region, where Mime Jr.s and Galarian Mr. Mimes wander freely. Thus, for the rest of this article I’m going to refer to this creature as Kalosian Mr. Mime.
And Kalosian Mr. Mime is terrifying. This thing is so Uncanny Valley that it goes down to becoming some sort of Uncanny Trench where light vanishes and there’s no hope for escape. It has all the most terrifying aspects of a clown, with a vaguely human form that isn’t quite right, hair that resembles horns, and an uncomfortably close relationship with your mother. Its bright coloration and curly feet are just sort of haunting, giving the illusion that it’s wearing clothes while in actuality that’s all just part of it’s horrible, horrible body.
In contrast, Galarian Mr. Mime is much friendlier looking. The pants help a lot, but so do the big gloves and the nose. It looks less like a monster and more like a cartoony man, and while it’s still weird to see a Pokemon that’s so humanlike, this version doesn’t feel inherently wrong and unsettling. Much better design here, unless the goal is to freak people out. That said, I just don’t buy this as an evolved form of Mime Jr. Galar really needed a Galarian Mime Jr. to finish the set, because as is Mime Jr. turning into Galarian form in Galar and Kalosian form anywhere else just feels off. The other weird thing is that Galarian Mr. Mime, with its new focus on tapdance, doesn’t still feel like it should be called Mr. Mime. It’s something I complain about a lot with alternate forms, but if a creature’s called Mr. Mime it should be miming, not dancing, and if a creature’s called Sandshrew it should be sand based.
Visually, I love Mr. Rime. He’s got all the charm of Galarian Mr. Mime but now has a silly hat and an ice cane. He also gets the red bubble on his stomach back from being a Mime Jr. which makes me question why Galarian Mr. Mime doesn’t have it. Mime Jr. links fine to Mr. Rime, but through features lost along the way, like its hat and its big red poofs. Mr. Rime is also clearly Charlie Chaplin, and I love the pun of its name in that it’s both Rime and Rhyme.
EVOLUTIONS:
Oh god this line is a mess.
First we get Mime Jr, which has first form starter stats, but evolves when knowing the move Mimic. With no TM or TR, Mime Jr. learns Mimic at 32, finally evolving into a Pokemon whose stat total is still a bit small for a final form. If it’s not in Galar, it stays a Psychic/Fairy type. If it is in Galar, it becomes a Psychic/Ice type, which then evolves again at 42 into something that’s not actually that big a boost over its previous for, making Galarian Mr. Mime a good user of the Eviolite.
And then Mime Jr. is an incense baby, so if you breed two Mr. Mimes (and you can because despite the name half are female) you get a Mr. Mime if you’re not using incense. This is a stupid mechanic that they need to get rid of.
As with Farfetch’d, the fact that the original doesn’t get a new evolution while the regional form does bothers me, because it doesn’t do anything to bring the original back into playability, it just gives us a new different Pokemon that makes the original less relevant.
I will say Mime Jr. was a good addition. While some baby Pokemon are a waste of time, Mime Jr.’s actually a really solid early-game Pokemon, and Mr. Mime’s strong enough that it shouldn’t be appearing until mid to late game anyway. Adding Mime Jr. adds a lot of playability to this line in PVE.
Art by Zerochan923600
TYPING:
Kalosian Mr. Mime spent a lot of time as a Psychic type until we actually went to Kalos and found out it was a Psychic/Fairy type this whole time. Defensively, this is decent. It only has three weaknesses, and while it only has three ‘resistances,’ one of them’s a double and one of them’s an immunity. Offensively, it’s super-effective against four types and neither type works well against Steel… but that’s Steel, and most things don’t work well against Steel.
Galarian Mr. Mime and Mr. Rime are Ice/Psychic types, with their only competition in that type combination being Jynx and the legendary Ice Rider Calyrex. Defensively, this is a really bad combination, with six weaknesses and only two resistances- Ice and Psychic themselves. Offensively, this gives super-effective options against six types with only Steel as a shared resistance.
Art by DarkraiLady
STATS
Kalosian Mr. Mime has a whopping 120 Special Defense, but a mere 40 HP, seriously inhibiting its ability to actually tank, and only 65 physical defense. It’s 100 Special Attack is respectable, but Speed 90 isn’t really enough to make a sweeper out of it, even with Nasty Plot.
Galarian Mr. Mime balances its stats a bit, trading Special Attack and Special Defense for a bit more HP and Speed, but the only thing here that really works out in its favor is that it can equip an Eviolite, turning it into an actual defensive Pokemon, albeit one that still has poorer HP than most.
Mr. Rime brings up most of its stats as evolutions do, but weirdly drops its speed from 100 to 70. It manages to be more defensive than average post-evolution, but its key stat becomes its 110 Special Attack. Overall, its stats are fine, able to dish out hits and take them, and its worst stats are only a bit below average.
Singin’ in the Snow by Pizapioart
ABILITIES
Kalosian Mr. Mime and Galarian Mr. Mime have entirely different abilities, with Mr. Rime having another.
Like Electrode, Kalosian Mr. Mime can get Soundproof, and there’s plenty of Sound based attacks out there, making this a decent defensive option. This improves in 2v2 where you can pair it with Boomburst.
Filter, a near-Signature ability of Mr. Mime, is another powerful defensive option, reducing the damage of supereffective moves from 2x to 1.5x. As you can reasonably expect most opponents to have Poison, Steel, or Ghost moves somewhere in their lineup, you really can’t go wrong with this.
Technician increases the power of any of Mr. Mime’s moves of 60 power or less by 50%, and in theory this is a good ability, but Mr. Mime just learns all the good moves anyway. There’s no reason to use a Technician’d Confusion when you can learn Psychic, or a Technician’d Magical Leaf when you can learn Energy Ball. Skipping this should be easy, because it’s Mr. Mime’s Hidden Ability.
Galarian Mr. Mime (but not Mr. Rime) gets Vital Spirit, which grants immunity to sleep. This is fine and usable and plenty of enemies will try and put you to sleep, but this isn’t the reason you’d be using this Pokemon.
Mr. Rime gets Tangled Feet, which is a garbage ability for garbage Pokemon. Nobody needs raised evasion when confused, what they need is to not be confused.
Ice Body, hidden ability of Galarian Mr. Mime and Mr. Rime, causes a Pokemon to heal in Hail. Of course, every Pokemon that can get this, other than the not-fully-evolved Seel, takes no damage in Hail anyway, and it really takes a fully defensive playstyle to worry about using your ability on sometimes healing 1/16th max HP a turn. There are ways to build Mr. Rime for this, but it’ll involve other Poekmon on your team setting up the Hail and wanting it, too.
Besides, Galarian Mr. Mime and Mr. Rime have the signature ability “Screen Cleaner” which negates Reflect, Light Screen, and Aurora Veil upon switching in. This ability is honestly the best reason to use these Pokemon, more than anything they’ll actually do once on the field. Any ability that has an effect on switch in tends to be good, because as long as it’s something you wanted done, you basically just got a free action.
Art by PeregrineJazmin, formerly Retkikosmos
MOVES:
Psychic and Psyshock are both great options for your primary attack form. Psychic is a bit bigger, but as you’ll have a special move of your other element to fall back on, Psyshock adds a bit more versatility.
Kalosian Mr. Mime’s only Fairy attack is Dazzling Gleam so you take Dazzling Gleam. Galarian Mr. Mime/Mr. Rime gets your choice of Ice Beam, Blizzard, or Freeze-Dry. Freeze Dry has the drawback of being weaker most of the time, but extra strong against Water Types, which are rather common. Blizzard is more likely to outright end something, but without Hail its accuracy is rather poor.
Coverage options are pretty wide for the mimes. Thunderbolt, Energy Ball, Shadow Ball, and Focus Blast are available to both, with that last one being super effective against the Steel types that resist Psychic, Fairy, and Ice.
If you think you’ll get a moment to build up, Nasty Plot is always a great move, as is the more defensive Calm Mind.
Mr. Rime gets two particularly interesting options: it can Rapid Spin, which combines well with Screen Cleaner to reset the field, and it can learn Slack Off, the normal type equivalent of Recover.
The Mime family’s move pools are actually rather deep, and there’s plenty more options in there, like Hypnosis, Reflect and Light Screen, Baton Pass, Iron Defense, Stored Power, and, via older gens, Healing Wish.
Art by albrt-wlson, which I have to assume is short for Albert Wilson, but might actually be Alberta Walesong.
OVERALL:
I love to hate Mr. Mime, though overall the whole family winds up in the range of ‘fine.’ Mr. Rime’s speed loss is its biggest hit, but other than that there’s a lot of good stuff it can do, especially with both Screen Cleaner and Rapid Spin. Having below average speed on a Pokemon with so many weaknesses is a problem, but with such a strong variety of moves there’s a lot that can make up for it.
Kalosian Mr. Mime, unfortunately, really needs that stat boost that Mr. Rime got or the ability to use Eviolite like Galarian Mr. Mime, and it just doesn’t have either.
The other thing that really bugs me about Kalosian Mr. Mime is its abilities or lack thereof. In flavor, Mr. Mime is THE Barrier Pokemon. Reflect and Light Screen are supposed to be what it does better than anyone else… but it just isn’t. Sure, Soundproof, Filter, and Technician are interesting, but I’d have loved to see Mr. Mime have something like Prankster or an ability that mimicked Light Clay, anything to say ‘this is the Pokemon that is best at Reflect.’ Honestly it’s a problem I see in the game a lot, a Pokemon having a specifically mentioned ability or a clear signature move that the Pokemon just has no reason to use. At least Mr. Rime clearly wants to use Teeter Dance with Tangled Feet, even if that strategy isn’t a strong one.
It just really bugs me when a Pokemon isn’t good at what it’s supposed to do, even if it’s good in other ways.
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AN: Here’s chapter two!
Title: The Ripple Effect
Characters: Hordak, Entrapta, Odessa, features original characters
Pairing: Entrapdak, features other canon couples (and some fanon)
Rating: M
Read on AO3. It’s always posted there first.
Evaluation
“You want us to help you… find your dad’s… home planet?” Hydrangea questions.
“Not necessarily that,” Odessa replies. “I’ve been mulling over this the last couple of years. Wandering through space, it’s apparent that my father’s species has predominantly settled into Etherian life. But when I ask my father where we are from, he has no answer.”
“Not in the withholding information way,” Tristan clarifies.
“Exactly. In the sense he has no answer to give. Period. I’ve discussed it with my mother, and she believes it could be an exciting chance to find out where he’s from!” Odessa claps her hands together. “We know about the biology, physiology, mental health, behavior of one person. My father has been studied thoroughly for years, but his makeup can only tell us so much.”
They nod in understanding. It does make sense. He has been genetically manufactured over and over, thousands of versions of him co-existing among species that still have yet to see anything like him before. Hordak has lived among Etherians, has explored world upon world, but they know he is an anomaly. They all do.
Odessa looks down at her hands, an anomaly herself. Her parents have always been supportive of her intellectual pursuits, and this could very well be one of the greatest. She has filled a medical textbook composed of both Entrapta’s research, Hordak’s explanations, and her own observations, theories and notes about how his species operates. But what good is it if it simply applies to a single individual; that’s not applicable to how science or medical practice works.
Hydrangea pours them tea. She knows how determined Odessa can be once she sets her mind to something. There’s no stopping her once her brain gains traction on an idea. Tristan’s set face comprehends this as well.
Tristan speaks first, “When would you like us to begin?”
Odessa smirks, “Soon as you’re done with your drink.”
“Hm, of course you’d say that.”
“Damn right,” Odessa answers.
Hydrangea places her hands on her hips, “Alright, Des. We’ll get going soon as we’re done!”
“Or you could chug your chamomile in one go.”
“No.”
-
Dryl is etched further into rocky cliffs, its labyrinth excavated deep inside the mountain. Its residents welcome their princess, happy to see her return. Entrapta’s kingdom had been left to its own devices for years, even prior to Entrapta’s departure; yet they view Odessa as the rightful heir, and treat her as such. She supposes it's something to be grateful for, as it does leave them with a place to rest and organize without much interference.
Though she could do without the large paintings of herself lining the walls.
“I never get over how cute you were as a baby,” Hydrangea says, giggling. “Look how chubby you were!”
“You were so adorable,” Tristan gushes. “So innocent.”
“The sweetest little baby,” she continues. “I still want to pinch your itty bitty face!”
“Shut up,” Odessa pouts, blushing. Curse these portraits… and curse their laughter...
“Odessa! Hello, hello!”
Relieved, she turns, smiling at the friendly face, “Hi, Uncle Wrong-Man.”
Crushing her to his chest, he presses their cheeks together, “It’s been so long since I’ve seen my most favorite niece in the world!”
“You’re going to make all the other nieces jealous,” she says. Then smiles, “But it’s true.”
“I can’t help it, you were the first niece I had!”
Back on her feet, Odessa glances at the vicinity. Normally, there’s more of her uncles wandering through the halls. “Where is everyone?”
“Oh, they’re working outside or in the kitchens. We heard you were back and we felt a welcoming party would be fun!”
“You don’t have to throw one every time we come back.”
His eyes turn watery, a sad, morose frown on his features, “Oh… I see… You don’t… like my parties anymore…”
“No, no, that’s not it!” Odessa says, trying to cheer him back up. “I just meant you don’t need to go through all the trouble each visit.”
He looks up at her, ears drooping lower, “Do you like them?”
“Yes, Uncle Wrong-Man, I love your parties,” she insists. “You’re the best at it!”
In seconds, his bubbly personality returns, “Excellent! I look forward to giving you another party suited to your tastes!”
Tristan leans toward Odessa, hand held up to his mouth, “Wow, for a minute I thought I heard violins.”
“He has that dramatic flair to him,” she agrees.
“How have your parents been? I haven’t seen them yet!” W.H. asks.
“Mom and Dad are fine,” Odessa tells him, following him through the halls. The maze has been modified to be easier to map out. The first time she had come here, they had gotten lost since Entrapta couldn’t quite recall where all the secret entrances were. Odessa took it upon herself to make her own layout, and added to it whenever a change had been made. “They went to Beast Island to see how it is there.”
His ears fall for a moment, “Aw, I hope they’ll visit soon!”
“I’m sure they will,” she assures him. “They had some business to conduct over there.”
“In the meantime, what brings you to Dryl?”
“I wanted to talk to you and some of the others regarding your past,” she explains.
W.H. enters the closest kitchen, walking toward the oven. Tucking on mitts, a perplexed expression crosses his features, “Our past? My dearest niece… have you been afflicted by amnesia?”
“No, my memories serve me right,” Odessa says, patient. “I am asking for information regarding where we had come from, as a whole species. What world we originated from, what our culture was like. I had spoken with father about the matter, but he said he didn’t know due to being younger than the rest of you.”
W.H. crosses over to the countertop, removing the cookies onto a cooling rack. He is silent for a few moments, and it is clear he is choosing his words carefully, trying to understand what she’s asking. He turns, a serious mien about him, unusual on his face. “I… I’m not sure, either.”
Odessa walks over to him, “Is it because you were separated from the hivemind?”
“I don’t believe so,” he replies. Folding his arms over his chest, the fact they’re all one person reveals itself in his posture and tone. “We had been created to serve Horde Prime. Nothing more or less. And I do think that I myself had been cloned after your father. He had been Horde Prime’s general as well, and if he didn’t know, one of our elder brothers might have the knowledge you seek.”
Odessa glances at Hydrangea and Tristan, then back to her uncle. “Do you know who would?”
W.H. ponders for a minute. “Hm, no one here, I am certain. The residents of Dryl are like myself—of the younger group, since we have more people skills to associate with the Etherians.”
Hydrangea says, “I always wondered how that worked. Where you were designated and why.”
W.H. nods, “Oh, yes, we put thought into what our new purposes would be. After I helped my brother and sister with Beast Island, I came here to demonstrate how to function with Etherians!”
Tristan walks over to the counter, “Where do you recommend we go, then? Also, can I have one?”
W.H. beams, nodding enthusiastically, “Please do! I am going to make much more. But in regards to your first question, I would suggest visiting family in Mystacore or Beast Island.”
Odessa takes a cookie off the rack as well, munching. Mystacore is closer, so it would be prudent to try there before traveling to Beast Island. There are portals stationed throughout Etheria, but it’ll be worth stopping by Mystacore. She hasn’t seen anyone there at all yet. Although, it’s not as if there are many who live in the clouds, visiting her family there is always exciting.
“Thank you, Uncle Wrong-Man,” Odessa says, reaching up to kiss his cheek. “We’ll head there now!”
“Take some food with you to go,” he insists. In a flash, he’s bagging the cookies into a cellophane sack, tying it with a pink ribbon that shapes into a butterfly. “Healthy meals are important, but so are treats! Otherwise, you get moody.”
Hydrangea and Tristan are handed their own bags, much to their surprised delight. Before Odessa can accompany them out the door, W.H. stops her, giving her another, “Would you mind taking this with you for your cousin?”
Odessa smiles, “I wouldn’t mind at all.”
-
Hordak and his brothers were categorized not by their clothes, or hair dye choices, but by their eyes. Odessa and her mother had noted the various shades of eye color, their teeth matching them the most; however, inside of their mouths, it adjusts to mimic the change as well, affecting the tongue and beneath it, gums, hard and soft palates, uvula, even extending down to the oropharynx. All her uncles are in good health, and with none of them dead, she can only assume that the change continues down the esophagus. She got it in writing several years ago that, should any be willing to be dissected for scientific purposes, she has a few choices for her study.
Their eye colors are fascinating: while they all reflect light to glow, which is meant to intimidate opponents, she has observed the change serves as behavioral distinction. The lighter the color, the more mellow and passive the personality; the darker or more intense, the more independent and aggressive. A chameleon-like feature, reflecting mood. And, in turn, signifying mental and physical health, as peppier individuals tend to be less plagued by feelings of inadequacy, anger, and low self-esteem. W.H. had his eye color eventually become the joyful chartreuse yellow she’s known since birth, and her father’s returned to their fiery red sometime after the war. This is the one true variation that doesn’t need attire or fanciful hair styles and dyes to show that no matter how alike they are by DNA, they are their own separate people.
So when she teleports to Mystacore, and she finds dark blue eyes staring at her from above, she remembers, quite immediately, that sometimes, darker eye colors don’t indicate low self-esteem but rather, an egregious amount of confidence.
Her uncle jumps down from his perch, landing daintily on his feet. He narrows his eyes, leering, “Odessa… it has been ages since you’ve arrived on Mystacore.”
“Hi, Talon,” Odessa says.
He looks at her friends, “You two are faring well, I hope.”
Hydrangea smiles, “Yes, thank you for asking!”
Tristan nods, “You look good, too, Talon.”
“Indeed,” Talon answers. “It would be a shame if I lost my abilities.”
With that, he throws knives out from his sleeve. Tristan dodges the attack by barreling to the side, somersaulting along the ground. Hydrangea calls up plants from underground, knives embedding into the sides. Odessa leaps into the air, reaching behind her to draw out a handheld bar. With a click, it extends to a staff, and another morphs it quickly into a pilum.
Reeling back her arm, she launches it with full ferocity at Talon. He avoids it, jumping to the left and pulling out more knives, but he aims them at Tristan, who runs toward the nearest fountain to pull water out from its containment. Tristan moves his arms upward, pushing out enough water to create a vertical depth, the knives slowing down as they pierce its surface and float inside.
Odessa tugs her spear out from the dirt, cornering her uncle at the right. Hydrangea pulls plants forward, fingers splayed in the air. From her fingertips, electricity strings across her exoskeleton. Tristan rushes to their side, water sloshing around them, encasing Talon in its center, creating a barrier.
Talon sneers, then bursts out laughing. His stance loosens, standing upright, “Your senses haven’t weakened. Good. I’d be vexed if you squandered my generosity to teach you combat.”
Odessa smirks, minimizing her staff and settling it behind her back, “We wouldn’t do that.”
Hydrangea grins, “Tristan and I do practice on our own.”
Tristan shifts the water back toward its source, then rubs the back of his neck, “Which is great, since there was no holding back from that attack.”
“Enemies don’t show mercy,” Talon says. Adjusting his collar, he nods his head, “But tell me, what brings my niece and her companions to Mystacore?”
Odessa speaks, “I wanted to ask you something.”
“Me?” he replies, curious.
“Yes. It’s about your origins. Uncle Wrong-Man said it might be beneficial to come to Mystacore and question my relatives here.”
Talon raises a brow. He looks up at his home, then addresses the trio, “Are you intending to stay for longer than an hour?”
“Most likely.”
“I will invite you to my home, then. Come. Dinner will be prepared soon, and we may discuss the topic during.”
Accepting this, they head in the direction of his home. An impressive, ornate building that’s three stories high; they tread up wide steps, where one can overlook the weigela bushes lined around the vicinity’s front entrance, a fountain spouting water in the garden’s center, surrounded by lilacs and roses. Cool air wafts over their bodies, welcome from the heat outside. Odessa remarks that the decor has only slightly changed, the furniture taking on silver, blue, and white qualities, polished until they gleam.
Going to the stairs, Talon nods at them, “Make yourselves at home. As usual, do not break anything. I will see you at dinner promptly.”
Once he’s gone, Hydrangea chuckles, “He’s still intense.”
“He’s gonna kill us one day,” Tristan sighs.
Odessa pats his shoulder, “Only if we let him.”
He lips thin out, “Not reassuring, Des.”
Climbing the steps, they decide to wait until they are called, and opt to entertain themselves by bothering someone else.
-
Magic radiates within the room, energy felt even behind the door. Odessa carefully pushes it open, seeing a slim figure move around. Putting a finger to her lips, she leads her friends into her cousin’s quarters. His face is stern, staring at the spell hovering over the ground at shoulder height.
Hydrangea sits quietly on a cushion on the floor, and Tristan does the same. Odessa leans against the wall, and they all watch. Eon is her cousin, and their similarities begin and end with their fathers having chosen Etherian women as their partners. He differs from her, and any other potential cousin, by having the capability to do magic. Real, Etherian magic.
Eon takes measured breathing, focusing on the spell. It elongates toward the ceiling and floor, then narrows to a thin line. Reaching for it, he plucks it with his forefinger. It snaps, and a discordant sound follows, uncomfortable and shrill. Hydrangea and Tristan cover their ears, as Odessa winces.
Eon looks at them, brow raised. He grins, “Did you all enjoy the show?”
“We did, until that,” Hydrangea complains, glaring at him. She frowns, lightly slapping her ears, “Aw no, there’s some ringing!”
“It’ll pass in a few moments,” Eon explains. “Besides, you three coming into my room unannounced and unwelcome deserves a bit of retribution.”
“By popping our eardrums?” Tristan asks, deadpan.
“Exactly,” Eon says, one hand on his hip. He turns to Odessa, and smiles. “You’re here sooner than expected.”
“I believe we arrived on time,” she answers, grinning back. She hasn’t seen him for a while, but he has gotten taller since then. He takes after their species' propensity for large heights, but she knows he’s grown a few inches and might continue to grow for the next couple of years as well.
Eon begins putting away his spellbook and notes, arranging them neatly, “What are the three of you doing here? With you on Etheria, you normally visit me later on your returns.”
“I came to ask your father some questions, but then he invited us to dinner.”
“He can be standoffish, but oddly enough, never when it comes to hosting meals.”
Hydrangea sits up, “We got into a sparring session with him right away too.”
Eon joins them on the floor, one knee bent to prop up an arm, “I had mine early this morning. You know him, he’s never done with training.”
Crossing outstretched legs, Tristan reclines against the wall, “Your parents don’t let up, huh?”
“No, but I head to my place at Bright Moon later in the month. I check in biweekly to continue my sparring and magic training, then head back and repeat.”
“That’s a lot of back and forth,” Hydrangea adds, holding a pillow to her chest.
Shrugging, Eon says, “I don’t mind. Keeps me busy.”
Odessa chuckles lightly, taking a seat beside Tristan, “For being super busy, Uncle Wrong-Man said to give you this.” Pulling out the bag, she tosses it to him.
Eon catches it deftly, a quiet ‘yes’ of triumph leaving his lips. His diet is strict when he’s with his parents, for optimal nutrition and betterment. But he has a sweet tooth that rivals Odessa and Entrapta, thus any opportunity to consume sugar is taken. Using a levitation spell, he has it placed atop his desk, and an invisibility spell follows after, keeping it from view.
“Won’t your parents find it? It’s not like you can’t smell cookies,” Odessa states.
“I’ll say it was one of you.”
Hydrangea laughs, “I don’t think they’ll be entirely fooled by that.”
“If not, that’s fine by me too,” Eon says. “I let them think they’re savvier than myself.”
Tristan smirks, “How often has that worked?”
“More than for you,” Eon says, smirking back.
Odessa and Hydrangea whoop at Tristan, who laughs in good humor.
Stretching his arms up and to the side, Eon turns to his cousin, “How did the last journey go?”
“It went as planned. We went to Pilan, and my parents found what they needed for research.”
“And you two?” he asks, addressing the others.
Hydrangea lays on her stomach, drawing circles on the pillow, “Hm… my moms have started taking me to council meetings, which is interesting. We had a gathering with some of the leaders in Plumeria that are helping to manage its growing space. And New Chelicerata has been thriving for years now, since we removed all the machinery in the Fright Zone and expanded it into the Flower Field.”
“Not all the toxins have been removed, I’m assuming.”
“Some of the groundwater had been too polluted, and it leaked into larger bodies of water, but, as a whole, we started seeing real progress six years ago.”
“I’ve been helping the residents there by removing water too far gone,” Tristan adds. “We’ve been separating them into larger containers as instructed, and we’re hoping that newer technology from Entrapta and Hordak will yield positive results in another decade or so.”
“Even if it’s slow, progression is always good.”
Odessa glances to her left, letting her mind drift. Time doesn’t pass by the same when traveling through space. She watches her mother age, while her father stays the same, and that’s the extent of how often she pays attention to the changes happening around her. It’s not from ignorance, but from not giving too much thought to it, even with the years she has spent returning to Etheria to evaluate and aid her people here.
Settling against Tristan, Odessa yawns. He keeps his body still as she falls asleep, finding their chatter relaxing. Dinner will arrive sooner if she’s napping. Even closing her eyes is enough for her body to rest, breathing quietly as she listens to them discuss any topic they happen upon.
Her friends are interrupted mid-conversation, a knock at the door grabbing their attention. Odessa opens an eye. The housekeeper bows her head, addressing Eon, “Your parents are waiting for you in the dining room. Please, follow me.”
-
Odessa knows her uncle, Talon, is a force to be reckoned with in combat, but her aunt, Nyxia, is a woman with severe features and a severer personality. If there was ever given a choice between fighting him or her, they may have to weigh their options a little more carefully.
She is seated next to Eon, with Hydrangea and Tristan placed across from them. Odessa leans toward her cousin, “Did Nyxia poison the food this time?”
Eon shakes his head, “Maybe Tristan’s.”
Tristan bawks, “Hey!”
Waving his hand, Eon smiles, “I’m teasing. It’s more than likely Hydrangea.”
“What?!” she demands, worried.
“You two are making this easy,” Eon grins, shaking his head. “Really, after all this time, you continue to doubt my parents’ hospitality.”
“I haven’t seen your mom in a while, okay? I wouldn’t know if I offended her last time,” Hydrangea breathes out, leaning back in her chair.
Ear twitching, Odessa catches the sound of footfalls, her aunt coming into view from the corridor, chin-length, violet hair framing lithe, dark features, gown flowing behind her. Definitely not a person to be out of line around.
But that only applies to non-relatives.
Nyxia smiles warmly at her niece, “Odessa! My charming girl, how have you been?”
“Wonderful, Aunt Nyxia, thank you,” Odessa replies, nodding her head in respect.
“Excellent. I heard all of you did well in your impromptu session with my husband earlier,” she says, making her way to the other end of the table. Standing beside her chair, she looks at her son’s other friends, “Talon remarked that you’ve improved considerably.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Hydrangea and Tristan reply at once.
Talon comes from the opposite corridor, walking toward Nyxia. Pulling out the chair for her and sliding it beneath, he moves to the other end and takes his place at the head. The staff bring out their meal: roasted pheasants and potatoes, slathered in its drippings, with baked seasoned vegetables on the side. Wine is served to all of them, as Nyxia and Talon are lax in this department of child-rearing, though the option to have different beverages is always available. Odessa requests her usual fizzy drink, as Hydrangea asks for lemon water. Tristan and Eon have no qualms with the choice displayed in front of them.
“Smells delicious, Miss Nyxia,” Hydrangea compliments.
“Thank you, my dear,” she answers, laying a cloth on her lap. “When I heard you three were in Mystacore, I chose to make this instead.”
Odessa and Eon twiddle each other’s fingers under the table, a silent ‘fuck yeah’ to the change in menu. Nyxia is a phenomenal chef, but she abhors cooking. The usual staff do lovely work, except they are meant to keep things simple, clean, and balanced. Nyxia, despite agreeing with her husband on meal preparation, manages to create rich, satisfying food each time. Normally, when Odessa and her family are visiting.
Relishing this opportunity, Eon cuts into his pheasant, stabbing a portion of potato with it, melting on his tongue. Trying not to pretend-weep. Or actually weep.
“What was your question, Odessa?” Talon asks, swirling the wine in its glass. “It’s not like you to come without your parents.”
Dabbing her mouth, Odessa looks at him, “I wanted to ask you questions about your time serving as a soldier for Prime.”
He doesn’t break the smooth motion of his wrist, not minding that part of his life, “Yes?”
“I was told that older clones might have information regarding our origins. A life before Prime sought out to conquer the universe. My father and W.H. are too young to remember, or were never privy to it. You’re one of the eldest, so I figured to come here before heading to Beast Island.”
Talon sets down his glass, lifting his fork and knife. He takes a bite of his food, chewing quietly. Swallowing, he says, “I will be blunt: it is not possible to know such a thing. Our purpose, our life, was to do Prime’s bidding.”
“There isn’t anything you can think of?”
Talon mulls the question, glancing up at his wife, then back to the plate. He narrows his eyes, and they flicker to an even darker shade of blue for a fraction of a moment. He gives a minute shake of his head, imperceptible to all but his wife.
Odessa waits for him to speak, slipping out her recorder with a strand of hair.
“I… cannot remember a time before Horde Prime. There was only war. Ravaged lands, and screaming,” he leans forward. He meets his niece’s gaze, “You might have to go to Beast Island for your answers, though I do not trust they will know more. Many of us have been alive for decades, but not millennia.”
“Is there a reason for that?” Tristan wonders. “The hivemind was the source of connection. Did you lose memories once it left?”
“No, it doesn’t seem to be that way,” Talon answers, sipping his drink. “It’s more… you have recollections, starting from the present. And it continues backwards until it stops. A wall in your head, which is the moment of when we, for lack of a better word, are ‘born.’ From what I’ve gathered, raising Eon, and observing all of you growing up, an infant that develops naturally can have memories that are faint—both in sensation and imagery, and the mind’s eye develops scenarios of what could’ve happened. Piecing puzzles in your memory banks. Attempting to make sense of your childhood and surroundings, and it even causes you to feel certain emotions into adulthood on a subconscious level. For us, and my brothers, there is no guesswork. There is the instant of emerging from the vitrine, and from there it goes on. Our memories are crystal clear, and gaps do not occur. If we feel emotion, it’s from direct experiences, not preconceived ideas of maybe how we experienced living. The hivemind being removed made us how we are now, but its absence didn’t seem to affect anything else.”
“Fascinating,” Odessa says, forgetting her meal. “So, you remember everything?”
“Yes. It would seem my brothers and I recall memories at greater capacities than most.”
“Would you say you have photographic memory?” Hydrangea asks, leaning forward.
“Our superior intellect allows us to retain knowledge quicker, and we remember things for longer, but a true photographic memory isn’t an aspect we have considered.”
Nyxia cuts into her pheasant, “It’s not unlikely. Your brothers and you have shown an uncanny ability to remember things more greatly than Etherians. It might be prudent to research it further, wouldn’t you say?”
Nodding in agreement, Odessa would not rule it out. She’ll discuss it with her mother for an unbiased opinion later.
Dinner finishes with chiffon cake and fruit, leaving guests and hosts satisfied. Talon and Nyxia wave at the door, as Eon walks them to the portal.
“It was good to see you all,” Hydrangea says, turning to Eon. She clasps his hands, “You should visit more!”
Eon blushes slightly, still not used to open demeanors, “I’ll try to make an effort.”
Tristan pats his shoulder, “You have to get out more. Between you and Odessa, I don’t know who’s more of the hermit.”
“It’s definitely me,” Eon replies. “Odessa’s too needy.”
Punching him in the arm, Odessa gives a side-hug right after. She and her friends step onto the portal, “I’ll drop by again soon! And visit my parents sometime, dumbass.”
He flips her off, smirking.
Hopping through the portal, they arrive in Plumeria, where she bids goodbye to her friends. Then, she heads to Beast Island.
-
“Odessa! My little cupcake, how was your trip to Mystacore?” Entrapta asks. Imp, crawling around on the walls, chirps his greetings with Emily beeping at her return.
“It was very interesting,” Odessa says, pulling out her recorder. “Would you like to listen with me?”
“You bet!” Entrapta shouts, sidling over to sit on her hair. Odessa takes a proffered seat before playing back the conversation at dinner. She listens with rapt attention, the two of them quiet. Afterward, Entrapta grins, “That was fascinating! I had noticed that your relatives tend to be more affluent with recollection than most, but this requires more study.”
“Do you think there is a possibility that they have photographic memory?”
“We won’t know unless we test the hypothesis,” Entrapta turns to her daughter, grinning wide. “You know what that means!”
Odessa grins wide too, saying it with her.
“Time to experiment!”
-
Odessa and Entrapta had to decide what and how to measure. The test is simple on paper, but part of the reason memory tests can be difficult is due to fallibility of nature. Recalling a memory does not equate accuracy. They also had to take into account that Etherian children were more susceptible to false memories, which could affect them as adults, hence, why Talon said that there’s no guesswork for his brothers and himself. And when it came to the ethics, Entrapta reminded Odessa that it’s part of experimentation, much to the latter’s chagrin. Odessa would’ve followed, regardless, but she’s more determined to see things through without obstacles.
A lack of true full-blooded children for Hordak’s species, and Eon and Odessa were not little anymore, that wasn’t necessary to entertain. However, Odessa and Entrapta believed it would be prudent to test the memory of Eon and any other hybrid cousins simultaneously to the Etherian and Horde groups, sans Odessa.
After deliberating, they chose to experiment by gathering Etherians between the ages of 15-50, to cover the age bases of both Etherian teens and adults, hybrid offspring, and Horde descendants. After age 14, correct absolute judgments and relative judgments have better succession rates and are not as affected by false positives. With this in mind, Odessa sends out a mass message asking if anyone would like to be part of a study.
She receives her answers quickly from her uncles, who would be more than delighted to aid her in any quest. She splits them into four groups, Group A, B, C and D. To accommodate for the choice in subjects, they will be separated into three sections, Etherians being the first, hybrids the second, and her uncles will be the third subsect. Over the course of the week, she receives the rest of her subjects at Beast Island.
Tristan and Hydrangea are the first to arrive, looking forward to spending time with her and her family in the meantime. Hydrangea gives Emily and Imp hugs and kisses, cooing over them incessantly. Imp clings to Hydrangea’s neck, completely at ease.
Tristan pats Emily’s surface, smiling at her beeps, “It’s good to see you too.”
She beeps even louder and harder, spinning around in place.
Entrapta grins, “Aw, you made her day!”
“No one else is my favorite robot, are they, Ems?” Tristan asks. She spins again, and the whirring becomes softer, almost shy.
Odessa nudges his ribs, “Great, my sister has a crush on you.”
Tristan rolls his eyes, smiling.
Odessa peers at his face, “Hey, you shaved!”
“Yeah, you were right. It was horrible,” Tristan remarks.
“You look better this way,” Odessa affirms, pinching his cheek, and he lightly whacks her fingers away.
Scorpia comes a moment later, and immediately bolts over to them all. Once the hugs are done, Scorpia and Entrapta discuss things on their own. Entrapta settles into the crook of Hordak’s arm, resting easily over her shoulders. Scorpia gushes over how cute they are. Hordak humphs in disdain, despite the blush on his cheeks.
Another five minutes pass and the portal hums. Catra, Adora, and two of their children come through.
Odessa sighs. Not looking forward to having some of them here. But she smiles, walking to Adora, “Hi! Thanks for coming.”
Adora smiles, giving Odessa a warm hug. She pulls back, holding her at arm’s length, “It’s no problem. We’re glad to help! You’ve gotten taller.”
“You’ve definitely sprouted more than we thought. I remember when you were knee-high,” Catra says. “You were the worst ankle-biter in Etheria.”
Odessa teases, “Still am.”
Laughing, Catra pats her back, walking hand in hand with Adora to their friends.
Her smile falters after that, though she manages to keep it in place. If Catra and Adora weren’t there, she wouldn’t hide her contempt or indifference.
They have four children in total. Quadruplets in fact. All a year younger than her at 15. Two of them, Clawdeen and Marlena, tend to spend their time in Bright Moon, and she has no opinion of them other than they’re not her sort of people. Well, that’s not true. They’re surprisingly elitist and refuse to associate with anyone they find unworthy of their time. They mind their business enough, however, so Odessa doesn’t pay them attention.
Barely coming to five feet tall, Molly is one of the children here today, a skittish, timid thing; the runt of her litter. She inherited Catra’s heterochromia, one eye blue, the other green, and that’s the one interesting thing about her. She stands, unsure, by the portal. Her appearance here is odd, since she tends to be alone. Odessa doesn’t hate her, or even dislike her, but the girl’s meekness doesn’t make her striking enough to have an opinion on either.
Adam, their one son, is another story. His eyes are bright blue, and slightly jarring in the feline face. The opposite of Molly, he is loud, prone to temper tantrums, and his temerity leaves much to be desired. She prefers the company of confident, open people, but he’s, without a doubt, the most obnoxious fucker she’s ever had the misfortune of knowing.
His eyes, the only one to resemble Adora’s, land on hers, and he leaps over, grinning. Placing an arm on her shoulder, leaning, he says, “Yooooo, what’s up, girl?”
Odessa turns to him, narrowing her eyes, “Please don’t take my smile for welcome, you complete ass.”
“Ooh, baby, you need to chill,” Adam says, poking her nose.
“Try that one more time and I’ll bite it off.”
He winks, “That a promise, thottie from space?”
Odessa smiles wider, eyes flashing, “It’s a threat, you parasitic fool.”
Sensing her growing irritation, her friends bound over. Hydrangea waves at Adam, “Hey! We haven’t seen you in a long time. How’ve you been?”
Adam turns to her, “Hey, Dragon Fruit! You know how I be—taking care of all this,” Adam gestures to his thin body, puffing out his chest. “What you been up to lately? Those flower braids are doing everything for your look.”
Hydrangea urges him to walk far, far, far, far away from Odessa’s area.
Rubbing her temples, Odessa takes a breath.
Tristan rubs her back, “Remember, Des: think of the experiment.”
Odessa nods at him. Science. Her one true refuge. “I know. It’s a little… irritating that he’s here. But I’m sure that empty-headed dolt will yield some results for me.”
Tristan smiles at her, ensuring she doesn’t lose her cool. Once he’s sure she won’t murder, he looks at Molly, “Hi! I didn’t think I’d see you here.”
Molly brushes hair away, looking briefly at the ground before addressing him. “Yeah… Um, my moms thought it would be cool to take one or two of us. To help Odessa out.”
Odessa shakes her head, “So glad about that.”
“Um… I’m sorry about Adam...” Molly starts.
“It’s fine,” Odessa replies, focusing back on her clipboard, walking away.
Sighing, Molly bites her lower lip, feeling uneasy.
Noticing that, Tristan smiles at Molly, “Come on. We can wait over here.”
“Sorry you’re stuck with me,” she mumbles.
“I’m not stuck with you,” Tristan answers. He leads her to an unoccupied stone ledge, the occasional pooka darting across it. “Though, I didn’t think this was your sort of thing.”
“It isn’t. I don’t really want to be here,” Molly answers, pulling her legs to her chest.
“It might be fun, right?” Tristan asks.
Shrugging, Molly places her chin onto her hands.
They both watch the portal light up, a plethora of clones marching through. It has to pause for a brief moment, then it continues to spew individuals out of it. Tristan glances down at Molly, knowing there’s no point in attempting to converse. The silence doesn’t bother him, and she seems to take more comfort out of not having to make dreadful small talk. He hates it too, so this works.
Eon and his parents eventually pass through. Waving at him, Tristan reclines in his seat, “You and your folks actually came. I didn’t think any of you left the house.”
Standing with his arms behind his back, at ease, Eon smirks, “You’re all lucky we don’t come out more often.”
Tristan sticks his tongue out at him. He gestures to his left, “You remember Molly?”
Eon looks down at her, “Yes, we have met before. Nice to see you again.”
Molly flushes, turning away, “Nice to see you too…”
He glances at Tristan, who gives a one-shoulder shrug.
She keeps quiet, looking at the people around her. Hordak and his brothers all stand out as one unit, and other cousins similar to Eon slowly arrive. Not as large in number, with more variation than Hordak’s species but less than natives. She watches Etherians coming forth as well, and doesn’t wave or acknowledge them. Hoping to blend with the background, she scoots further away, sinking behind Tristan.
Tristan notes her discomfort and doesn’t move.
Eon, however, waves at some relatives, who rush over to greet him.
Molly frowns, accepting her fate. She takes to watching Eon speak with his family, his tall, sleek body impressive even among those similar to him in build. His hair, cropped shorter at the sides, falls in front of his forehead, a darker hue than his cousin Odessa. His eyes are a lovely shade, bordering on magenta with a stronger red tint, the sclera an equally pretty color, lighter than his irises. His usual confident smirk remains on his face throughout, bright, sharp teeth against the usual backdrop of pale face with the sides of his cheekbones and neck becoming a shock of dark blue or purple. It seems to be a common male trait, since Odessa’s face is white all around, but she isn’t sure. She doesn’t see the other cousins close enough to tell.
She spies Odessa wandering with her device, either barking orders or quietly checking off things. Long, lilac hair floats behind her when not in use, her frame just as slim and tight as the others, and inheriting a tall height seems to be the norm for them. Despite her gorgeous features, Molly finds it interesting, also intimidating, how much redder Odessa’s eyes and sclera are compared to Eon’s.
Hydrangea is speaking with Odessa now, platinum blonde hair brushing against her body, falling in the softest of waves to the small of her back. Her lithe frame befits the gentler, kinder nature she has, which isn’t surprising considering who her parents are. But there’s that powerful change in limb, her arms spiking at the shoulder in dark red, the skin of her arms mottled with it, until it reaches her elbows, where it spikes again, hardens, forming another patch of chitinous skin that reaches her fingertips, claws neatly filed down. And then there’s the tail, shorter, but as potent as Scorpia’s. Deadly and graceful.
She looks up at Tristan, beautiful, brown eyes staring off to the distance. Long lashes frame them, delicate yet full. His hands rest lightly over his knees, fingernails painted black. Hair reaching the end of his neck, lightly touching muscular shoulders, it enriches brown skin with its color, more than a mere dark purple. It’s the color of wine in the dark, of a gorgeous night as the last remnants of light dash away. The blue of his clothes highlight everything further, lavish gold trim clashing against the bright colors, revealing every taut muscle without meaning to, and she traces the curve of his spine with her eyes.
She feels a gaze on her, and finds her brother staring at her from a distance. Molly, snapping from her reverie, darts her sight to the ground. Unaware of Tristan looking in her direction.
Once enough participants have arrived, Odessa claps her hands, “Alright, people! Listen up: I have divided you all into the following groups. Step up this way, where I will assign you all with a place to go to.”
Adam bounds up out of nowhere, whispering, “Can whatever group I’m in be called Team Sexy?”
Odessa ignores him, “Let’s begin, shall we?”
-
HYDRANGEA
Age: 15
Species: Etherian
“Alright,” Odessa says. “I’m going to show you 10 pictures. You will have seven seconds to absorb all the details for them, and afterward, I will ask you one simple question about what you can remember.”
“You got it!” Hydrangea sits in her chair, comfortable. “Sounds easy enough.”
Odessa smiles, “Here’s your first one.”
She holds up a simple image of table mats atop a wooden surface, decorated with plates of breakfast foods, drinks, and fresh fruits.
“Okay, ready for the question?”
“Yep!”
“What fruits topped the waffles?”
“Oh, um… berries and apples?”
Writing it down, Odessa proceeds with the next image.
TRISTAN
Age: 17
Species: Etherian
“Hello!” Entrapta says, bringing him in. “I’m going to show you 10 pictures for less than 10 seconds each, and you’ll let me know what you remember.”
“Sure thing,” Tristan replies, sitting upright.
She pulls out an image of miscellaneous items and personal effects on a desk, three photographs in the middle, a drawing in one of the corners, a grey notebook, and a folder with intricate patterns.
“Okay, ready for the question?”
“Yes.”
“Were there tickets on the table?”
Tristan mulls his answers for a moment, “No.”
MOLLY
Age: 15
Species: Etherian
Odessa approaches the girl, relieved that she doesn’t have to deal with the handful that was her brother. She looks at Molly, “I’m going to hold up 10 pictures for you, and you will have seven seconds to absorb the image. Afterward, I will ask you questions.”
“Alright,” Molly nods, nails clicking against each other.
The image is of a mountain peak, glinting from the light; the moon shines above it, and a trip of hoofed animals moving along its surface.
“What was the total number of baby goats in the image?”
Molly thinks over the total, and says, “Five.”
ADAM
Age: 15
Species: Etherian
Entrapta comes into the room, “Hello! I’m going to be showing you some pictures—”
Adam interrupts her, “Is this going to take long?”
“Nope! It takes less than five minutes for this segment to be complet—”
“Do we get paid to do this?”
“...No.”
Scratching his nose, Adam leans back in his chair, “Got it, got it. Lay it on me, girl!”
Entrapta smiles, “Great! So, I have 10 pictures and I will show them to you for about seven seconds. I will ask you questions after each one about what you saw.”
“Question real quick: is this one of those tests that explain anything about your psychosis?”
“What do you mean?”
“Is it gonna tell me anything, like, am I gonna learn about who is the most likely to be a murderer or nymphomaniac?”
Raising a brow at him, Entrapta says, “I can’t divulge too much about the study to participants. But this is not that kind of test.”
“Aw… okay,” Adam shifts back further in his seat, lifting the front legs from the ground. “Well, that’s less fun.”
Entrapta proceeds to bring out a picture: a series of potted plants are lined on shelves, different heights and colors smashed closely together in the frame, their pots not resembling the others save for a few.
“What was the centre motif for the pots?”
Adam scratches his chin, “Frog, I think.”
EON
Age: 18
Species: Etherian and ?
Odessa approaches her cousin, sitting relaxed in the seat. She had gone through the first ten pictures with him already. She glances at him, “Are you ready to continue with the process?”
“Whatever this study is, I’m assuming that you need me to come back again for another trial run.”
“Yes, you will be returning a few times after today to aid in the study, as per your agreement on the written form.”
“Of course.”
“You went through the first half, and you’re going to begin the second half now. This is slightly different,” Odessa explains. Instead of photographs, she holds up a pad, similar in size and weight to her telecommunicator. “I am going to hold up one image: a grid of white and black squares. Then, I will show you a second image, of the same number of squares on the grid; however, you will choose the one square you believe was white in both image one and image two. Image three will have the grids with numbers in the squares instead for you to pick. The amount of time will be the same, seven seconds. There are four levels of difficulty, and you will proceed until we reach the last level.”
Nodding, Eon watches her lift the screen to his eyes. A grid of white and black appears, and he keeps in mind which are white only. The second image appears. Then the third. He makes his decision. He will not know if he is right, as the data is processed within for the researchers alone.
Odessa keeps her face neutral the entire time, intrigued at what this part of the test will yield from everyone else.
TALON
Age: approx. 90 (total) | approx. 52 (mental) | approx. 52 (physiological)
Species: ?
Entrapta smiles, “We do appreciate you helping with the test.”
“It is no trouble,” Talon states. “You and my niece are a select few that do not leave me…”
“Irritated?”
“We’ll use that word.”
Entrapta approaches her brother-in-law, setting herself down on swathes of hair, “Are you ready for the second half of the test?”
“Yes. By all means, little sister, proceed.”
“Excellent! I’m going to show you a grid with black and white squares. Another image will appear after on the device. The number of squares will not change, however, you have to decide what is the one square that remained white. You will pick that in the third image, where the squares will all be numbered.”
“Understood. You may show me the first image.”
W.H.
Age: approx. 40 (total) | approx. 23 (mental) | approx. 27 (physiological)
Species: ?
“This must be exciting for you, isn’t it?” W.H. asks. “You haven’t done a study like this in a while.”
Readying the pad, she nods, “It has been a few years since I’ve conducted anything in this manner.”
“I still remember when you were little, and you insisted on having your first experiment be a methane explosion. You were so cute!”
Odessa smiles, “Speaking of memory, we’re going to begin the second half of the test. You will have the same amount of time to memorize the image on screen. Another will follow right after, and your task is to choose which square on the grid remained white. The image will be your selection on a numbered grid.”
“Sounds fun!”
Holding it up for him, Odessa watches his eyes stay in place, focused. A flicker to indicate change on the screen, then another before he makes his decision.
HORDAK
Age: approx. 56 (total) | approx. 57 (mental) | approx. 35 (physiological)
Species: ?
Entrapta can’t help but smile at him, “Thanks for helping, Lab Partner!”
Hordak smiles back, rising from the chair, “Of course. The experiment seems to be going well.”
“It’s been so fascinating!” Entrapta lifts herself up in the air, at his height. “Everyone has been super helpful, even when they’re rambling about their own assumptions!”
“Who was rambling?”
“One of Catra’s kids—the boy. He was very interesting when he talked, but I had to stay focused! We’re collecting so much data… Odessa is going to be ecstatic!”
Happy to see her in good spirits, Hordak leans forward, kissing her cheek, “When you’re done, I will be waiting for you in our room.”
Entrapta waggles her eyebrows at him, wrapping her arms around his neck, “Ooh! Is this about that new maneuver you wanted to show me?”
“We’ll see if your memory serves you just as well tonight,” Hordak smirks.
Squealing, Entrapta kicks her legs behind her, pecking his mouth with her own. “Can’t wait!”
-
The results, overall, took two months to compile through the data machine and to check back in with the participants. None of the groups had different numbers, pictures, objects, or words. Odessa and Entrapta tested everyone on their eidetic and photographic memory ability. Group A had no distractions, Group B had Etherians with distractions only, Group C was where her cousins had the disturbances, and Group D it was her uncles with diversions.
When it came to eidetic memory, the numbers didn’t vary too much. But the photographic memory yielded noteworthy results. Each group was brought back a month after being tested to see if they could recall things better. A few Etherians showed some promising ability for it, but overall it wasn’t strong. Her cousins showed stronger signs for photographic memory, Eon being one of the best candidates.
But her uncles were nearly at a 97% rate of accuracy. Talon and W.H. showed an adeptness for remembering things weeks later. Hordak was somewhere in the middle. She wonders why.
“Mom,” she says, holding the charts in her hair. “I know that photographic memory is rare, but these numbers are unreal.”
“I know! The majority of your relatives have a knack for it! That’s so fascinating.”
“I have a theory that it might be due to the hivemind, and perhaps the military training they underwent. It would make sense why they have such capability, even two decades later,” Odessa says. She pulls another chart toward them, tapping her forefinger in quick successions behind it. “It may or may not be that, since we’re not certain of Dad’s origins, but it would explain aspects of it.”
Entrapta’s hair moves her behind her daughter, peering over her shoulder, “It may. I saw that Wrong Hordak was remarkable with photographic memory, and Talon as well.”
“I believe it’s possible that it might be due to neither having depressive episodes. It may have been a group study, but I saw that clones similar to Dad in terms of mental health had a tendency toward memory loss or confusion. It’s not as often or strong as Etherians, or a couple of my cousins, but it’s there. Brains are brains after all.”
“It is exceptional to write this in our records. I wish we had more examples to go by,” Entrapta says. She smiles, “I think it says quite a lot when you compare it to Etherians and your cousins, though.”
“I do find this riveting. Even if it’s Dad cloned thousands of times, there’s something in their brains, their minds, that can provide clues to them as a whole. It’d be prudent to conduct more research, but I’d like to begin as soon as possible, and I can add notes as I go along.”
Entrapta pats her daughter’s head, “And now that you have this information, what do you intend to do with it?”
Odessa looks up at her mother, then back at the data. “I’m going to have Tris and Gea come with me on a little field trip.”
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So, for those of you that are familiar with the formatting this may seem a bit strange. While normally, I like to pitch newcomer characters from whole cloth, in this case I want to make a moveset for a character that’s already in Smash. Specifically one of its oldest characters. Because characters in Smash Bros. tend to be highly, immutable, changes happen very slowly, a few in between years of development, and no character has ever gotten a true overhaul. It’s taken Ganondorf 15 years to get a few moves wholly distinct from Captain Falcon, and the inspiration is still entwined in the DNA of his kit.
So this is less, “here’s a character that I would like Smash to add, here’s how I think they would play”, it’s, “here’s a character that’s in Smash but I don’t think has a very authentic or accurate playstyle, here’s how I would change them”, or more accurately, “here’s how I think this character would, or at least could, play if they were added today”.
So, Samus Aran is a heavy, yet floaty and mobile, mid-ranger. She gets a lot of mileage out of her projectile game, but is not completely reliant on them like her easiest comparison Mega Man. She’s closer to a cross between him and Simon in true playstyle, as a lot of her moves contain narrow pathways that require good aim and spacing to get the most usage out of.
General Mobility and Mechanics
Most of Samus’ basic stats and base level animations should stay the same, I’m not out to change her idle pose, dash speed, weight or jump. However, one big difference between the real Samus and my Samus is that my Samus doesn’t crouch. Instead she goes into her morph ball form. This can work with the same number of frames that most crouch animations go into, or it could take a few frames more (no more than a few though), it shouldn’t impact things either way. What is important about the morph ball, however, is that it has a very, very low profile, one of the lowest of any crouch, and it also gives her access to a crawl, which is just her morph ball rolling around. This crawl is notable for having greater acceleration and top speed than her dash, only being slower at the start due to its lower burst speed. However, the morph ball should be more than an option, it is one of her default forms of movement.
Furthermore, her roll attacks should change to fit this, no longer seeing Samus enter her morph ball form, but simply flipping or dodging out of the way, similar to the dodge system from Other M, with frame data much closer to the average roll dodge. I would also give her a roll attack, similar to Terry, but with her rolls instead of her spot dodge. She would simply fire one small energy pellet forward, with a slight angle up, with similar damage and knockback to Mega Man’s jab. More about these types of attacks will be explained later.
Normals
Jab - Samus has a single hit jab, similar to Roy and Chrom. In it, she swings her arm cannon in a wide arc in front of her, representing the parry from Samus Returns. This move should have a very quick startup, 2-3 frames likely, and see Samus with partial intangibility while it’s active, making it a strong reversal option. Unlike Roy’s however, this attack sends opponents away, popping them far at low percents but not a whole lot farther at high percents. This makes it hard to follow up on, and furthermore, doesn’t do a whole lot of damage on its own, probably not more than the first hit of her jab already does. It is solely a tool for getting close ranged opponents off of you.
Forward Tilt - A reverse roundhouse, can be angled, basically the same thing that she already has.
Up Tilt - Samus swings the arm cannon above her head. Covers a wide area, but the animation should be a bit more reserved than the over the head splits kick she has. Pops the opponent up slightly and can be used to chain into itself at low percents with bad or no DI.
Down Tilt - While in the morph ball, Samus shoots forward a short distance, on par or even less than Cloud’s slide kick, with similar effects, popping the opponent up. The green accents on the morph ball can glow a little and leave a light trail to emphasize this as a reference to the Boost Ball from the Prime series.
Dash Attack - Identical to what it is now, I would maybe make the animation a bit more stiff to accentuate this as a Shinespark reference.
Neutral Aerial - Samus tucks in and spins, similar to her Screw Attack but without the blue electrical effects. Hits once and knocks opponents away.
Forward Aerial - Samus aims forward and shoots three uncharged shots, the first two naturally combo into the third. The third launches, though doesn’t kill until high percents.
Backwards Aerial - Samus aims behind her and a missile. It travels a short distance before exploding, kills at mid percent.
Up Aerial - Samus straightens her body out and fires an uncharged shot straight up, it doesn’t go far but it launches straight up, meaning in air-to-air fights it could KO off the top.
Down Aerial - Samus punches below her with her arm cannon. If the tip of the move connects, and only if, the end of the cannon explodes as Samus fires a point blank missile, and spikes (this does not count as a projectile). Otherwise, the move just sends out.
Throws
Grab - Samus retains her tether grab utilizing the grapple beam. The only thing I would change is that the grapple should come out of the gem on the back of her hand as opposed to the arm cannon, to emphasize the fact that these throws are now proper grapples instead of swinging people around with the grapple beam.
Pummel - Samus shoots the opponent with an uncharged shot from her arm cannon. These shots can be spammed very quickly, though do little damage.
Forward Throw - Samus spins the opponent around to put them in a headlock, then blasts them in the head with a charged shot, sending them flying.
Backwards Throw - Samus takes the opponent in her one hand and spins and hurls them backwards. This is a kill throw at mid-high percents.
Up Throw - Samus tosses the opponent up and shoots them out of the air with a charge shot.
Down Throw - Samus throws the opponent to the ground and steps on them, letting loose two uncharged shots and then a charged shot, doing by far the most damage of all her throws.
Smash Attacks
Forward Smash - Samus leaps and rolls back then fires a charged shot in the area in front of her. This charged shot travels fast, fast enough to be comparable to a melee smash attack, though in turn the projectile doesn’t go far, especially considering she jumps back before firing. The total range is about that of Olimar’s forward smash with a purple pikmin, from her starting position. Because she rolls back, this is capable of crossing up and hitting opponents behind her.
Up Smash - Samus leaps and rolls forward, firing a charged shot straight up as she moves. The charge shot moves just as fast as her fsmash, and stops just below the top platform on Battlefield.
Down Smash - The morph ball glows yellow and begins spinning on itself. When the button is released, Samus releases five bombs from the morph ball, which fly up slightly and then scatter on the ground around her. These bombs explode when they come in contact with an enemy, shielding or no, or after half a second of being released. On their own, these explosions don’t do much damage, but if the opponent is caught in three or more they will be launched like a normal smash attack.
Specials
Neutral B - Aim Stance - Samus widens her stance to firmly ground herself and stops moving. Pressing B again ends the stance immediately, upon which any action can immediately be performed. Jumping will also cancel the stance. While in the stance, the control stick can be used to aim Samus’ arm cannon in a complete 360 degree circle around herself. Pressing the A button will have Samus fire uncharged shots from her arm cannon, with a maximum charge time of a second. These uncharged shots do scratch damage and do little more than flinch the opponents, but can be rapid fired to fill the space between Samus and her aim and make approach harder. Holding and then releasing the A button will have Samus charge a shot, the longer a shot is charged, the more damage it does, the faster it travels, the further it knocks back, and the farther it goes. If the shield button is held, then Samus’ arm cannon opens up, and when the A button is pressed she instead fires missiles. Missiles can’t be fired as rapidly as uncharged shots, move slower than charged shots, and don’t go quite as far, though they do go farther than uncharged shots, but kill very early. If a missile is charged for the length that it would take to max charge a shot, Samus shoots a super missile, which has all the properties of a regular missile but can kill as early as 50% on midweights.
Side B - Plasma Beam - Samus aims and fires her plasma beam, which is shown as being a glowing green and having several wavy strands. The attack can be charged by holding the button, it can be shield cancelled but the charge cannot be stored. While charging, the shot can be aimed, but it’s limited to a 140 degree range, 70 up and 70 down, in the direction the attack was done in. The plasma beam passes through all objects on the stage as well as items and enemies, multi-hits and launches, capable of killing at high percents. It also travels the farthest of any of Samus’ projectiles. However, the move also has the most startup time of her projectiles, even for an uncharged shot.
Up B - Screw Attack - Not much change from the real version of this move, I would just want the attack to travel forward more and have more of an identifiable “arc” in its movement.
Down B - Bomb - Samus drops a bomb in her morph ball form. Unlike the real version of this move, this attack should have little to no startup or recovery, and the bombs also shouldn’t be affected by gravity. They explode when they come in contact with an enemy, or have been active for a second and a half. And if the explosion hits Samus, then she’ll be bumped up in the air slightly in her morph ball form. If the attack is performed in the air, then she enters her morph ball form where her aerial movement is replaced with the same mobility as she has while rolling on the ground, but in this form she cannot use her recovery, double jump, or fastfall. This mode can be exited before touching the ground by hitting up on the control stick whereupon these options are returned to her.
Final Smash - Queen’s Nest
Samus jumps back and fires a large plasma beam shot forward and slightly down. This covers a wide area in front of her, though doesn’t have much vertical coverage. All enemies that are hit are put in a cinematic where they’re knocked back into a dark, green cave filled with glowing eggs. The Queen Metroid appears behind them and chomps them all down. Samus runs in after, turning into her morph ball form and diving down the Queen’s throat before laying a Super Bomb in her stomach, which explodes, destroying the queen and launching all the characters hit.
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This isn’t something I normally participate in, but, since I didn’t write much in June and shared hardly anything(something I plan to change in July if I can), I thought I should give some proof of (creative) life if anyone wants it.
Under the cut, a series of tiny excerpts, most more than six sentences, of different Kingdom Hearts pieces to be rescued from the limbo of “half finished chunk of something in a google doc.” Some of them belong to WIPs and some are from various other things started and then interrupted or....we’ll say set to a back burner.
All excerpts headed by a bolded header in the style of
Title of Piece This Belongs To (Brief description of what kind of fic that is in between parenthesis)
Advantage Rule (Isalea Modern AU. First Chapter Up On AO3. More Info There.)
"You lost or are you the new caulk?" The speaker didn't fit the typical profile of a tech professional, especially one that worked behind the scenes with the coders. Mid-fifties judging by the lines on his face with thinning blond hair so light you could hardly tell where some parts had gone silver combed to stick up as a compensation for where it threatened to recede and leather skin that said he'd worked outside in some decade past, paired with a southern accent that seemed stronger than it was with the effect added by the toothpick precariously balanced in the corner of his mouth. He'd rejected business attire in favor of cargo pants and a dark blue flight jacket that looked like they'd been bought in the last century, and the look in his eye was so fierce without prompting that Axel had to wonder if he was a failsafe for the air conditioning breaking down.
"Am I the what?"
"Caulk." The toothpick switched sides of the man's mouth with a roll of his bottom lip. "Fixing the leaks? The cybersecurity specialist? Axel Lea?" His impatience mounted by the moment. Working on the fourth floor would certainly be interesting.
"Yes, sir. That would be me." Axel tried to smooth the way with deference and the easy smile that rarely steered him wrong. "Does that make you...?"
"Cid Highwind. I'll be showing you the ropes. Now that you've seen fit to grace us with your presence." Cid continued to stare him down and Axel wasn't sure if he was supposed to apologize or bare his teeth and smack his chest like a gorilla to challenge the alpha.
Without False Hope ( First Chapter Up On AO3. More Info There. Akuroku KH/FFX crossover)
Axel was waiting for them, or it seemed that way at least and Roxas didn’t think himself vain for thinking so, when Roxas spotted the lanky redhead not jogging himself but leaning against a pole until he saw the Crusaders approaching and then falling in next to Roxas just behind Xion as she bellowed, "Young Crusaders gather 'round," the beginning of a call and response chant that the rest of them would answer with a promise to knock enemies back and stand their ground or an alternate about beating Sin beneath the ground if they were feeling
Axel finished the line a beat before the Crusaders would have, substituting his own words. "...Eager for Sin to put you in the ground." Roxas's heart, which had soared for a moment when Axel had come up beside him and dared to hope that Axel's first words would be a version of sorry or an invitation out somewhere without other people, took a sharp plummet to his toes then returned to his chest angry at being mocked.
Assorted grumbles and shouts showed many others felt the same way, but Xion seemed to take it in stride, sing-songing her own improvised lines that continued the cadence of the original chant without missing a beat, "Young civilian come to heckle and stare. What would you do if a fiend attacked and we weren't there?"
Axel near stumbled but recovered and let out a short bark that might have been a laugh he wasn't sure he was allowed without inviting training Crusaders to make him pay for it, afterward rumbling in an impressed tone, "You, I like,."
"You should. " Xion shot back and her casual tone alone was enough that everyone else in the formation knew Axel was an acceptable stranger even if he was rude, and that they should ignore the intrusion. "I'm not sure I like you back. Roxas has been mooning and it makes him impossible."
Guardian Force (Akuroku. Axel and Roxas in the next life, living as NPCs in the world of/during the story of FFVIII. Part of my eventual plan to show Axel and Roxas living out every Final Fantasy game. Unpublished/First chapter never completed because I decided on Without False Hope/a FFX crossover instead)
"You often talk to yourself?" an insolent lazy drawl came from somewhere to Axel's left and he turned, eyes narrowing to see a boy in a rumpled Balamb cadet uniform lying across the second highest step, book in hand, vibrant blue eyes, ice eyes like he'd junctioned Shiva right to his vision, trained on him over the spine.
"To my Guardian Force," Axel explained, though that seemed worse. Over six foot of height and lean muscle and the SeeD uniform Axel wore at least enough parts of for it to be vaguely recognizable that he belonged to the elite unit, all usually worked together enough that there was usually no reason to be embarrassed by anything he let slip out. Nobody would laugh even if Axel welcomed it.
"Thought you didn't like using Guardian Forces," the lounging student's voice was just as nonchalant as it was before, but his gaze was sharp, interested, and he spoke as if he knew Axel.
"Have we met?" Axel knocked the sole of his left boot against the side of his right as if scraping mud off the bottom. It wasn't odd for him to shift constantly even when mostly still, unless he was specifically called to stand at attention. There was an air of discomfort about the present action though, when taken with how jade eyes known for constant analysis on and off the battlefield, seemed attracted to the handrail of the steps rather than searching the face of the boy that had just spoken to him with familiarity. Axel's normally iron stomach soured immediately at the idea they had met and he'd forgotten, to the point he couldn't even bring himself to try and jog his recollection. All he could do was force out his least favorite question next to 'when did that happen?'
Lollipop (Soriku and Akuroku. College AU/Modern AU. Unpublished. Sora and Roxas in an acapella group because that was the only way I could work out how to get them to sing and do choreo for songs that get stuck in Shaky’s head, which was the Goal of the Day one day before I got distracted)
When Sora said he had a new idea for a piece for the CrescenDudes' next performance, Roxas had been more than happy to volunteer to work on the arrangement with him. Sora was great for ideas, large picture and little flourishes that made a song a show, and he was, hands down, who you wanted doing choreography, even if he tended to get carried away and not realize there weren't many others with the dance and movement background he had in their group, but he wasn't suited for the musical side of sculpting a piece. He'd sing what he was given and he'd stay on pitch doing it, but he had no idea to weave songs together to form a mashup that sounded natural and created the right feeling in a crowd, and he'd forget to accommodate for everyone's voices or go the opposite direction and try to highlight everyone and have twenty solos. So it was up to Roxas to take his vision from neat idea to reality, and he jumped at the chance. He'd do anything at this point to distract Sora from dragging him into wedding planning for a few days when that should be Riku’s job as the other groom.
Hourglass (Unpublished. Self-indulgent BBS Era--at least for this excerpt-- story about KH Squall/Leon and Seifer growing up in Radiant Garden and explaining how they got to be on separate planets and separate ages by the time KH1 rolls around. May be competed and posted to AO3 or just used as a base/record of headcanon for sprinkling backstory references in other pieces.)
Seifer challenged Lea and Isa to break back into the castle and come back with proof this time. He would have just called Lea a liar, but that would lead to Lea trying to fight him, which would lead to Isa trying to fight him, which would lead to Squall getting in the way, thinking Seifer couldn't handle a two on one fight with some chicken wusses. Then Squall would still try to sneak into the castle himself to see Ellone anyway--and she wasn’t in the castle in the first place...probably. Seifer would have to drag Squall’s ass out of there, and, if they got caught by the Royal Guard, then they’d be the next rumored prisoners in the basement. It was safer to make it be Lea and Isa's challenge.
Lea took the bait. Isa, surprisingly, added they were planning a return trip anyway. Squall shot Seifer a questioning look, which he ignored in favor of taunting Lea and sealing the deal, "I can't wait to see you two hobble in tomorrow after getting your asses beat by the Guard. Try not to hit your thick skulls on the flagstones when you get thrown out."
Drowning (Unfinished/unpublished. Placeholder name. Sorikai. Supposed to be for the Sorikai Summer Event. Prompt: Drowning. Long one shot about eight times one of the Destiny Trio has nearly drowned and then been saved by the others)
Their first prototype of a raft had fallen apart underneath them in open water, the ties that lashed the planks together having not been as securely tied as they could have been--the book on sailor's knots Sora had provided was a lot more obtuse than it had seemed at first, descriptions dense and picture demonstrations too sparse. Kairi and Sora each fared well, each grabbing onto a floating plank to drift a minute and orient themselves after being plunged into the water. Riku was less successful, being fixated on saving as many of the supplies Kairi and Sora had gathered (coconuts, mushrooms, and bottles of water mostly, though there had been a tackle box that Riku's father would kill him for losing if he had to go back and face him, and that was what Riku was primarily focused on) and exhausting his breath on too many dives in a row without recovery in between until he was lightheaded from not taking in enough air in his hasty gulps when he broke the surface and increasingly imprecise in where he chose to come out of the water until he hit his head on the bottom of the plank he was loading the recovered supplies onto and went down without resurfacing.
No Set Recipe (Unfinished/unpublished. Sorikai. Supposed to be for the Sorikai Summer Event. Prompt: Ice Cream. Kidfic. Sora’s mom is left with the job of explaining polyamory while making homemade ice cream with a group of five and six year olds.)
It was all Selphie's fault to start with, though if she was going to be ascribed the blame for the hurt feelings, she would have to be given credit for all that happened after, which Riku and Sora both agreed she did not deserve, even if Kairi was more magnanimous, so it became habit just to talk of the ice cream and the impact it had on their future. Still, the most accurate account begins with: one day when they were all young-- too young to even be allowed to swim in the water surrounding play island without an adult in the surf with them, if that gives perspective--Selphie, to everyone's surprise, scored the winning goal in the game of land-blitzball the group of them were playing in order to decide what game they would really spend the day playing, and chose, to absolutely nobody's surprise, house.
Everyone accepted their fate and divided into family units with minimal grumbling, phrasing which means that Wakka threw the blitzball into the sea and lost it forever when Jecht--the parent chaperone on play island that day who was five minutes away from falling asleep on the sand and typically didn't care what they did, unlike most parents who at least had restrictions about not hitting each other in the head with wooden swords or throwing sand, and was the favorite of the children for that attitude of freedom to make mistakes being a better teacher than rules--refused to go into the water after it.
Selphie, however, found a problem with Sora, Riku, and Kairi's family. Specifically, she didn't like that the family was Riku, Kairi, and Sora all together parenting a yellow coconut Kairi was trying to rock to sleep while Riku built him a bed out of sand and palm fronds and Sora cooked dinner for the household--a savoury stew of sticks, sand, and mushroom. She stood with pursed lips and hands on hips, and declared that their proud coconut son, Rekka, couldn't have all three of them for parents because that wasn't how things worked.
"Why not?" Sora asked with all the curiosity and innocence of a child.
Riku tried a more practical, solution based approach with, "Can we change the rules?"
Kairi was more direct and firm, her, "It does if I say so," leaving very little room to argue.
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All Is Found:Anastasia!AU
Part VIII – Glowing Dim As An Ember
Fandom: The Witcher
Word Count: 3,945
Warning: Suicidal ideation referenced
Rating: T
Taglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak @whatevermonkey @jill-makes-art @mynamesoundslikesherlock @kemmastan @magic-multicolored-miracle @writingstudent @mlleecrivaine @coffee-and-stories @amirahiddleston @ultracolorfulnerdcollection @astouract @your-not-invisible-to-me @mycat-is-mylove @daydreamer-in-training
a/n: A retelling of Don Bluth’s Anastasia (1997)
{prologue}{part i}{part ii}{part iii}{part iv}{part v}{part vi}{part vii}
Waves lapped calmly against the craggy rocks bordering the land. The inky depths glistened in the moonlight and the sound of a gull’s lonesome cry pierced the night air. No one was there to witness the strange beauty of the quiet but never still sea, save for one man. He rested one hand against a lichen covered boulder, the other gripping a staff with a crystal orb that gave off an eerie light. Cidaris was still as beautiful as he remembered and while he’d planned on seeing his plans through before it reached this point, he was a little bit grateful that he’d had to come. He should have known it would be like this in the end, handling his business directly as he should have done all those years before. Poison would have done the job swiftly and quietly but the damn Nilfgaardians had wanted to send a message. The only message worth sending, in Stregobor’s opinion, was a swift success. There had been nothing swift about this but he would see this through till the end. It brought a malicious smile to his lips to think of how you all must be spending your days, scurrying through portals, fearful of attack, unaware that you were walking into his web. You had used secret passageways to escape him and as he turned back through the rocks, retreating from his visit with the ocean towards the obscured door in the mountainside, he appreciated the irony that he would recapture you the same way. Stregobor was a patient man who had suffered too many fools who had all paid the price and soon you would join them.
-----
“Join me by the mirror,” Yennefer implored, gesturing for you to come closer. You were strangely more anxious about this than anything else that had occurred so far, including nearly being murdered. The dress had been delivered to your room at the inn by Geralt, though he made a point of clarifying that Jaskier had chosen the dress. You were pretty sure he was just adding that so if you didn’t like it you wouldn’t blame him, but it made your heart happier than you’d like to admit that despite how distant he’d become Jaskier had still chosen the dress for you. When you pulled it out of the box your eyes had widened, with fear or awe or some combination of both.
It was perfect.
You’d feared it would be something fluffy or ornate in a way that you’d never be comfortable in but this was so elegant yet so simple. It was strapless, dark blue velvet that fell in a way that flowed with your form but didn’t hug it tightly. Its tailoring was just confined enough to complement your body but not put it on display, something you were endlessly grateful for. The only real decoration to the otherwise plain gown were two flowing pieces that shimmered and trailed you (though didn’t trip you up), giving you the effect of wearing a cape without the encumbrance of one. The only jewelry you wore was the chain and pendant that you never went without and a pair of simple gold earrings Yennefer gave you that went well with the chain. You had assumed due to the shortness of your hair that not much could be done with it but Yennefer had braided the sides framing your face, meeting in the back it was half up and the simple addition of the braids made you stand a little straighter and feel a little fancier. As you looked at yourself in the mirror next to Yennefer you considered the person looking back at you. She didn’t look as afraid as you felt. She didn’t look like a nobody who had grown up without any idea of who she was. She didn’t look like you, but she looked like someone you maybe could be someday.
“A word of advice,” Yennefer said, pulling your gaze to hers in the mirror, “Do not be fooled by this image. It is tempting to see oneself transformed into another, more aesthetically enjoyable form and believe that this is who you should be or that your life will be easier if you become her. But I speak from experience when I tell you that this…”
She gestured to you in the mirror and you looked back at yourself again.
“This is not some new version of you. This is not some carrot to chase. This is just a part of what you can be. Don’t let yourself be limited trying to always be her.”
“But this is who she wants,” you argued, “This is who I would have been if we hadn’t been separated.”
“But you were,” Yennefer said simply, “And you’re not. You have not survived everything that occurred to be swallowed by the ghost of what could have been. What is will always be more important than what could have been. And don’t speak for your grandmother so quickly. Do you know what she wants, what she has always wanted more than anything in this world for the last 10 years?”
You shook your head no and Yennefer took one of your hands in hers, looking into your eyes intently.
“She’s wanted you to be alive.”
“It doesn’t feel like enough,” you said, “Existing has never been enough. There must be something I have to do, some service I have to perform, some person she needs me to be.”
“No,” Yennefer said with a soft smile, “Just be alive. And be patient. She may not gather you into her arms or provide the touching reunion you’ve always dreamt of.”
“All I ever wanted was to have family,” you replied.
“Well, there you have it. You are already enough for each other.”
A gentle knock at the door broke the tender moment.
“We’ve procured a carriage,” the low baritone of Geralt’s voice announce, “It will be coming for you shortly. Jaskier and I are going to ride ahead to check for threats.”
Anxiety flooded you again and Yennefer gave you an encouraging smile.
“Alright Princess,” she said, correcting your posture and tilting up your chin, “It’s time for your debut.”
-----
“I know what you’re thinking, Geralt,” Jaskier said to the witcher who had been waiting in silence by his side. The witcher’s amber eyes gave the bard a sideways glance but he didn’t respond.
“I know that you’re worried I’m getting too soft or that I’m going to make some declaration and ruin our plans but I’m a professional, Geralt. We part tonight. I know that. And I’m fine with it.”
Geralt’s silence was damning.
Before Jaskier could continue his protests the carriage pulled up and despite himself he perked up, excited to see her. He plastered an impassive expression on his face as you and Yennefer left the carriage, though he admired the way the cloak he’d ordered to keep you warm on the ride looked on you.
“You clean up nicely,” you remarked, gesturing to the midnight blue attire Jaskier wore. You wondered idly if he realized how well your outfits complemented each other.
“Are you ready?” he asked, not acknowledging the compliment or offering one of his own. Your face fell a little but your nerves as you looked to the brightly lit manor house with music pouring from its doors and all manner of gentry milling around quickly distracted you from the slight.
“As I’ll ever be,” you said, trying to summon a smile. Jaskier’s cold expression faltered and he reached out, gently brushing his hand against yours to pull your attention away from the glittering throng.
“This is it, Y/N,” he said softly, “This is everything you’ve ever wanted.”
You nodded and swallowed hard, squeezing his hand tightly with resolve. He extracted his fingers and offered you his arm instead which you gratefully took, and the four of you entered the house.
-----
Marie Thyssen had lived to an age that would have astounded her ancestors.
She thought of this often, usually with guilt when she resented waking up to another day. She had been raised to do one thing; marry well and secure a lineage. When the time came to defend her country she was incapable of doing it and tried instead to focus on protecting the line in another way, getting her grandchild out of the country. And she had come so close. So close that she could still feel the brush of your dress against her fingertips as you fell away, the pull of the arms that held her back. As if there was any future for her without Toussaint. As if she wanted to keep going without you. But as it was with most things, she didn’t get to choose where or how her life went. So she went to Cidaris and she kept searching from afar. It had been 10 years and she had fired at least 20 advisors, all of them trying to get her to move on and focus on the future. One especially bold one had advised she remarry and join a new house for protection. She’d taken special pleasure in firing that one. The only one who had been different was Yennefer and perhaps it was because she had her own seemingly impossible dreams to chase. And maybe it was her support and acceptance of this dream that made it so Marie could finally, reluctantly, put it down. It was hardly the first kingdom to fall and if your death had happened at least it was swift and not by the hands of that traitor. She told herself these things as if they made it any better.
She sat at her place of honor in the banquet hall and looked out at the rows of people and it did ease her pain a bit. She loved to see the young people, lives ahead of them, happy and smiling. Sometimes she wondered what you’d look like now and whether you would have enjoyed dancing still or gone a bit wild as she had at one time, preferring to ride horses over dancing minuets. She hoped Yennefer would return soon, having gone on some errand she wouldn’t tell her about and Marie hadn’t pried. The mage had her ways and so far they had served her well enough. As if summoned by her thoughts she spied the familiar long, dark tresses and striking violet eyes of her advisor enter the room. A man walked a bit behind her – no, not a man, a witcher. How intriguing, Marie thought. Another man – definitely a man – entered next and then…
Marie’s hands clutched the sides of her chair. There was no doubt in her mind that it could have been anyone else. There was too much that was too right from the highlights in your hair that were brought out by the candlelight to the expression on your face to the Thyssen nose. All of the little pieces that came together to form you were there and Marie felt her heart ache. She rose quickly, offering a polite nod to her cousin who was throwing the party and who had taken her in after the attack, and began to move wordlessly away from the hall. It was cruel enough that you visited her in your dreams, being visited by the ghost of who you could have been was unbearable and this, at the very least, Marie would refuse to endure.
-----
“Do you see her?” you asked anxiously. Yennefer’s brow furrowed slightly as she looked to the dais where your grandmother usually sat.
“No,” she admitted, “That’s odd. But perhaps fortunate. It would be better to have this reunion somewhere less public. I will find her.”
Without another word Yennefer wove through the crowd. Geralt silently made his way from the crowd as well, doing another check around the perimeter, something itching at his senses that made him feel uneasy though he’d been thorough in his check before. You watched them both go and then you stood alone except for Jaskier by your side.
“Here,” he said, “Let me take your cloak.”
You let him pull it away and he handed it to the footman to store. When he looked back, he froze, azure eyes widening slightly as they traveled from the hem of your skirt to your hair. His eyes traced every single inch of you in a way that wasn’t lecherous but still made you feel vulnerable and exposed. When his eyes finally fell to yours and stayed on them you could scarcely breathe.
“What?” you asked finally, the question bitten out more harshly than you intended in your anxiety.
“You look…” his words trailed away and he began the perusal again.
“You bought the dress you knew what it looked like,” you said, flushing red and looking askance.
“I knew what the dress looked like but I could never have guessed how it would look on you. It looks…”
“What?” you asked, “Regal? Magnanimous?” Like a costume, you added silently. He shook his head.
“It suits you,” he said, “You look like yourself. Do you like it?”
You nodded and he smiled so brightly you wondered why the torches even bothered to burn, so suddenly outshone by his face.
“Do you think they’ll be long?” you asked, looking around you again. He took your hand and gently pulled you back to face him.
“Let’s dance,” he suggested.
“Why?” you asked, fearful this was yet another test, that perhaps somewhere Yennefer and your grandmother waited to watch and assess you.
“Because it will help you relax,” he replied, “And because I want to be on the arm of the most beautiful woman in the room.”
You rolled your eyes but let him guide you onto the floor, one arm pulling you in by the waist and guiding yours to go to his shoulder. You remembered your dance lessons fondly and as you found the rhythm of the music you did begin to relax, humming the tune quietly as you spun. Jaskier’s eyes stayed fixed on you, heedless of his surroundings or even for a moment what this night meant for the two of you. He just focused on your smile and the way the candlelight played off your hair and the sound of your voice, breaking through the loud instruments in a soft hum that was lovelier than any song Jaskier could have written himself. It was only when Geralt and Yennefer wove into view, agitated and visibly distraught, that Jaskier was pulled back to the reality of the moment. There was a job to be done and by gods he was going to make sure it went well. You gave him a questioning look when he stopped dancing.
“I’ll be right back, stay here or actually even better go get some wine!” he suggested, pointing your body to face a banquet table. You turned back around to protest but he was already halfway across the floor.
-----
“Alright I know that face, what’s happened?” Jaskier asked once he was within earshot of Geralt and Yennefer. Geralt looked pointedly at Yennefer who sighed and gave Jaskier a look that was nearly empathetic.
“She’s refusing to meet with her,” Yennefer said. Jaskier blinked a couple of times and then shrugged.
“So?” he asked. Yennefer and Geralt exchanged a quick look.
“So she’s done, Jaskier. She will not meet with her. She says she is tired of being met with lies and conmen,” Yennefer replied. Yennefer had tried to keep her from the people who claimed to have found her granddaughter but by the time she got to her it had already happened countless times. Those who had plans to do the same quickly stopped after Yennefer made a public display of what she would do to any who tried again. But the damage had been done and though she’d known it was a possibility, Yennefer had desperately wished the woman would listen to her. For once she was absolutely resolute.
“Well I don’t care if she’s done,” Jaskier said, hands going to his hips in irritation, “We have her granddaughter and she will see her.”
He looked to Geralt for support but the witcher looked awkwardly askance. Jaskier’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth to protest further but then thought better of it.
“Listen,” he said to Yennefer, “She’s here. You cannot be suggesting that we let her be turned away, if not for Y/N’s sake for your ladyship’s! Can you imagine her regret if she discovered her folly?”
“Then she won’t discover it,” Yennefer said fiercely. Jaskier’s eyes narrowed and then before anymore could be said he cast Geralt a withering, accusatory glance and hurried off down the hall.
“What is he doing?” Yennefer asked, moving to follow him. Geralt stayed her with his hand.
“Whatever it takes,” he answered, a blend of pride and concern in his amber eyes.
Geralt turned his attention back to the floor to find you.
“Fuck.”
-----
“Not now,” the woman called in answer to the knock at her door. It was either her cousin or Yennefer and she had no more words for either of them. The door opened and when Marie turned, already shocked at the audacity, her surprise was doubled at the sight of a man.
“Your ladyship, I know this is surprising-”
“What the hell are you doing? Get out. Now,” she demanded.
“My name is Jask- Julian. Julian Alfred Pankratz,” he said. The last name sounded familiar and it bought him some time as he’d hoped it would. “I’m here to talk with you abou-”
“Pankratz. Of the Lettenhove Pankratzes?” she asked. He nodded though it felt like a charade to accept that mantle.
“I know that you have been through a terrible ordeal-”
“You were there,” she said, cutting him off once more. He felt pinned to the spot by her gaze and the memories that came unwillingly to mind, “You were at the banquet.”
He nodded once more and waited for her to continue as a flicker of recognition crossed over her face.
“You were the boy who helped us escape,” she said.
“I am,” he replied, taking a step closer, trying to move past the memories of that night, the all-consuming fear and the heat of the flames that licked at his feet as Geralt pulled him away.
“Are you here to kill me?” she asked, something distressingly like hope in her eyes. But defiance as well. You were certainly your grandmother’s granddaughter.
“Gods no, why would you think that?” he cried.
“Force of habit I suppose. You nearly get murdered a few times and someone comes around from your past and, well,” she shrugged casually.
“Well now that we’ve established that I’m not here to murder you may we talk about what I am here about?” he asked.
“Might as well,” she said.
“I’m here about your granddaughter.”
He could see the walls go up the moment he said it and he cursed himself. He’d had a plan, a whole speech that eased into things but everything was falling apart.
“You need to leave,” she said, her voice frosty, another thing that reminded him of you.
“I’ve brought her to you. Yennefer herself met with her to verify it,” he replied.
“I will not hear this again,” the woman said, rising and moving to look out the window, “Leave.”
“Her name is Y/N, she was taken into the Belhaven Home 10 years ago with no memory-”
“I said get out,” she cried, turning to face him once more. He wasn’t sure what moved him more, the tears in her eyes of the terror in them. This was torture for her and he understood now why Yennefer had relented. But he was not Yennefer and he would not back down. Not when your happiness was on the line. Not when he finally had the chance to make something right.
“You’re in pain,” he said softly, pale blue eyes tender, “I do not wish to inflict more harm. I only ask that you see her. Talk with her. She is just as afraid, just as hurt.”
“And why have you brought her here?” Marie asked, voice growing stony again, the walls rebuilding.
“To meet with you.”
“Why? I’ve heard of people who have been able to be escorted out of the country but it is at a high cost. How would you have paid it? And what would have motivated you so strongly? And don’t give me some horseshit about it being the right thing, we both know the right thing bears no weight in this world.”
Jaskier took a deep breath, cursing inwardly and offering a silent apology to Geralt.
“I was doing it for the reward,” he replied, “In truth I didn’t believe she was the princess. Not at first. For what it’s worth, Geralt did. And I have come to believe it as well since then.”
“Then she is an even better actress than you expected, brava,” she replied disdainfully.
“That’s just the thing, she’s really not,” Jaskier said with a short laugh, “She’s incapable of being anyone but herself. It’s one of the better qualities she possesses. She is also stubborn, haughty, and fiercely determined.”
“What convinced you?” she asked despite herself, curious against her better judgment.
“She remembered me,” he replied, “Well, not me. A boy. She remembered the escape. That is something no one else knows but myself, Geralt, you, and her. And Stregobor.”
She winced at the name and took a deep breath. A familiar sensation began to stir in her and try as she might to repress it, it still wriggled through. Hope would be the death of her. If she was lucky. When Marie opened her eyes again there was a calm, resolute look in them and Jaskier waited breathlessly.
“Bring her in,” she said.
“You will not regret this,” Jaskier said before running out of the room, throwing the door closed behind him harder than intended with sent an echoing bang through the corridor. There was a broad smile on his face that stilled at the sudden sight of you standing where the door had been thrown open.
“Y/N!” he exclaimed. Your hands were balled into fists at your side and there were angry tears in your eyes. You swallowed hard and a little humorless laugh escape your mouth, a harsh and bitter sound.
“It was all a lie,” you said. It wasn’t a question, just a sad realization.
“At first,” he admitted, “But Y/N if you were listening to that you must have heard the rest.”
“Aren’t you tired, Jaskier? Aren’t you tired of pretending?” you asked.
“What?” N-”
“My whole life I’ve been looking for my family. The people who could care for me and be honest with me and believe in me and I came to realize that I’d found one. You and Geralt took me from the ruins of that palace, you gave me an identity, you kept me safe, you did everything I wanted a family to do. But it was all a lie. It was all based on a callous, stupid lie. I am so stupid,” a tear fell down your face at the words and Jaskier’s heart wrenched, panic gripping him as you turned away.
“Y/N please,” he begged, reaching for your arm. You reached to your leg and the dagger flashed brightly in the torchlight as you held it up to his throat.
“Get. Your fucking hands. Off of me,” you growled. He stepped back, reluctantly releasing your arm, and watched helplessly as you ran out of his life.
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