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#i might add a part two
anotherpjofan · 1 year
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Ok wait what if new rome had a policy where swordfighting is like a social club until 21 which is when you have to be a legit part of the military till like 30 instead of having child soldiers. So then you'll have a 29 year old Reyna convinced Percy is a god cause a) he's carrying Juno, the first god in new rome in like 500 years and b) he's a child but then Juno introduces him as the son of Neptune and Reyna's all like
Reyna: Why are you here
Percy: To deliver lazy ass old ladies *jazz hands*
Reyna *muttering I hate kids*: Why aren't you in school
Percy: School's a bitch
Throughout the whole first week Reyna is desperately trying to make Percy go to school in New Rome which leads to the following incidents in no particular order
a) he kidnaps Hannibal the elephant
b) somehow managed to sneak out of school multiple times
c) organises a protest with the other teens
d) defeats Ovtavian (who's 32) in a swordfight in less than a minute
Poor Reyna's losing her mind. She already lost her fellow praetor and now she had to deal with a teenager who was acting out
this is when Mars shows up ofc and personally requests Percy to be on the quest and everyone's like...he's a kid???
Percy: I thought you'd be glad to be rid of me
Reyna: That doesn't mean I want a child to go on a deadly quest???
Percy *indignantly*: I'm almost 18... I think I still don't have my memories
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marikodraws · 11 months
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Beyond Salvation, but Still Within Arm's Reach
Part 1 of my accordion book comic project!
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caramelldraws · 7 months
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A girl dreaming of marriage and children
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ruuibos · 7 months
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Yamcha and Vegeta get Icecream
Based on @yamgetayaoi 's really cool post
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chirimichi · 2 years
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“The mesa used to have a thriving kingdom, or at least, the books say that.” One librarian says to Jimmy, hand clutching a leather bound book- a history book, it looks like. “Mezelea, it used to be called. The most colorful kingdom to ever be built.”
“What happened?” Jimmy finds himself asking despite knowing the story himself. Pix told him the story before they parted ways. He never really bothered to ask why and how Pix knew about Mezelea and talked about it in such details. He’s a historian, an archeologist, of course he knows things like this. 
But the way he talks about the Mezelean King like a good friend is kinda weird.
“The books say that a Rapture happened and ruined the world. The king then died of sadness when his palace was destroyed and his wife disappeared.” The librarian said. 
“Jo- King Joel was devastated when he found out that the debris reached his kingdom. The palace was hit with a massive debris right in the middle of it.” Pix told him when he asked about the Rapture. He sounds so melancholic, eyes distant like he’s remembering being there. There’s a look in his eyes that screamed ‘I saw the aftermath. I was there’. It was gone as quickly as it came. “And then he found out that his wife, the Ocean Queen disappeared when the ocean dried out. Then he died, of sadness, probably.”
“Oh- oh jeez that’s dark.” He says, lowering his hat in respect. The librarian gives him a sad smile. 
“Yeah, it is. It sounds like a simple legend but we have found some relics that proves the kingdom's existence. It is hard to find anything in this land. It has been thousands of years after all, long enough to bury the ruins.”
“It’s been thousands of years but who knows, maybe you’ll unearth something from that empire.” Pix said before they parted ways. Jimmy didn’t dwell on it much.
“Anyway, if you need a place to stay for the night, we have a spare room.” They offer, but Jimmy shakes his head. 
“Thanks for the offer, but I’ve already settled on the edge of the mesa. I'll come back and tell you when I find something interesting.” He promises, a grin on his face. The librarian smiles back, waving.
“You better be!” At that, they both bid each other goodbye and Jimmy makes his way back to his soon-to-be home. With an idea for an empire and a plan to maybe play archeologist at some point.
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sharaug · 8 months
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𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒏 𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒔𝒔
❝ everything beautiful comes with pain. roses have thorns, don't they? ❞ ─ unknown
AUTHOR'S NOTE ❳ this entire one shot was inspired by @skittlescripts triad au! please go check them out for more content on it, if you'd like! :>
➔ ᴅɪsᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀ(s) :: this is my first time writing for anything lmk/jttw related, so forgive me if a lot of the characters in this are ooc. also, this whole thing is a completely self indulgent "what if" blurb on my interpretation of skittles's mc, so all of this is (obviously) not at all canon to their au aha-
mc in this one-shot is a mystic/demon monkey like wukong n macaque cuz i'm different (/j) also, in case it wasn't obvious already, she's based off of yor briar/forger from spy x family
blood, violence, and cursing will all be featured in this. i tried not to make it all too graphic, but i'd suggest reading at your own risk just in case if you're not a big fan of that stuff
not beta read + edited we die like my motivation to finish school work 🫡
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NOT MANY WERE━━━brave enough to sleight the Great Sage Equal to Heaven these days, but Sun Wukong supposed that demons wouldn't be, well ... demons if they didn't make any foolish decisions every now and then.
Still, though, that thought couldn't possibly be enough to calm him back down into a more rational train of thought—especially when one of the 'foolish demons' just mentioned currently had a gun held up against his son's temple.
"Take one more step, Great Sage," mocked the bastard with a sneer as he pressed the weapon further against Xiaotian's skin, which in turn drew out a small whimper from the boy that made Wukong's rage flare even more. "Go ahead. Do it and see what happens to your kid right here."
This was frustrating. So frustrating—especially when his treasured staff was currently laying right in front of his feet, right where he'd dropped it after the demon threatened to pull the trigger if he didn't. Under normal circumstances, he could bless the world by ridding it of this pest's existence in under ten seconds flat, yet ...
Wukong's gloved hands tightened into fists at his sides.
The Great Sage, the Monkey King was immortal. His son, however, was not.
And mortality had always been such a fragile thing.
"Remind me, demon," Wukong began after wetting his lips. "What is it that you'll get out of all of this, exactly?" he asked.
The demon threw his head back and laughed, the action alone being enough to jostle the hold he had on Xiaotian. For a moment, Wukong allowed a small ray of hope to shine through for his son: believing that maybe he could use this as an opportunity to slip out of the large demon's grasp and run over into the safety that the arms of his father provided.
Unfortunately, though, that hope was quickly snuffed out when the demon sobered up and tightened his hold around the mortal boy he held captive. Xiaotian looked like he could start crying any second now, and Wukong had to internally count to twenty before all of his impulse control flew out the nearest window and set him loose to show this sorry excuse of a 'crime lord' what had made Heaven fear the Monkey King in the first place.
"Now, what kind of a question is that, o' Great One Equal to Heaven?" The demon grinned, revealing rows of sharp teeth stained yellow. Wukong had to wrinkle his nose at the sight. "I figured it'd be obvious what I want, considering the fact that it's what every demon in this cursed city wants from you," he laughed again.
"Oh?" Wukong rose a brow, playing dumb to stall for time. "And what might that be?" He tilted his head.
The demon's brow twitched. "Don't play dumb!" he snapped. "I want your title! This city! Everything you have!" he raved.
He's getting worked up now. Wukong spared a glance to Xiaotian, who was somehow even more stiff than before. That would be a good thing if it weren't for the fact he was holding my kid hostage right now, he thought with a "Tsk."
"So that's it, huh?" Wukong pulled out one of his 'politician' smiles, as Macaque liked to call them. "Well, how 'bout we make a deal then, yeah? You let my kid go, unharmed, and I'll see about getting you all of that and more," he offered, using the kind of tone of voice you'd have when joking around with a friend.
Wukong felt one if his brows twitch when he caught the demon rolling his eyes with a smirk, looking smug. "Do you take me for a fool, Great Sage?" he questioned.
Yes, Wukong desperately wanted to answer. Anyone with half a mind would.
"I know of your tricks. Hell, after all the preparations I've gone through to get to where I am now, I'd say I even know you better than yourself!" he confessed, practically radiating with confidence with the way he puffed his chest out.
Wukong barely suppressed a snort. He saw Xiaotian bite his bottom lip and look away, eyes half lidded and expression practically the very definition of unimpressed.
Wukong suppresses a grin at the sight. That's my boy.
"Now ..." The demon lifted the arm he was using to hold Xiaotian in place up to the boy's neck and pulled him closer, the barrel of his gun once again returning to his temple. "Seeing as how I have you right where I want you at last, I say we discuss your inevitable defeat to���"
The demon was cut off by the abrupt sound of his men screaming out in agony from outside the room, followed by a persistent, almost pleading, knocking on the door.
"Sir! Sir, please! It's an emergency!" the voice of a younger demon spoke from outside, sounding panicked.
Wukong turned to the door, brows raised and interest piqued just as the demon released a frustrated groan.
"You may enter," he told, albeit reluctantly.
In an instant, the door was opened, revealing the younger demon's disheveled appearance and the blood coating his skin and attire in splatters.
Wukong perked up slightly. Had the backup he called for finally come? (Took them long enough.)
"What is it?" The demon took a step back, obviously stunned by his subordinate's troubling appearance. "What's going on out there?!" He growled.
"I-I'm not sure, sir!" the lower demon answered, visibly shaking. "S-some broad j-just—"
He was cut off before he could even finish his sentence by a silver dagger abruptly piercing through his throat, taking the life of his eyes away and leaving only his corpse to fall to the floor in a pool of its own blood.
Wukong blinked, pleasantly surprised. Not at the lower ranking demon's sudden death, but at the fact that he had never seen any of his own men wield a dagger in that style before.
"N-no ..." Ears flickering at the crime lord's voice, Wukong returned his attention to him and nearly did a double take when he saw that he was now trembling where he stood: eyes wide and face for some reason more horrified that it had been when the Great Sage entered the room.
What ...
The sound of heels clicking against the floor and then coming to a stop behind him made Wukong's ears flicker a second time, and the Monkey King turned around to see just what—who had inspired such fear into the demon who had been so proud earlier before him.
He found his breath hitching in his throat before he could stop himself.
Standing in the doorway in a sleek black dress and thigh high boots, there stood yet another mystical monkey much like him and Macaque, yet so different at the same time.
"Excuse me, Cheng Xue of this sector's crime syndicate ..." she spoke, voice eerily calm and eyes luminous. "I'm terribly sorry for interrupting this little meeting of yours, but ... tell me ..."
She smiled, sharpened thorns made of gold glimmering in her hands as she raised them into the light.
"May I have the honor of taking your life this evening?"
Against his will, Wukong let a shudder travel down his spine.
The demon, too caught up in his own fear, stumbled further away from the ethereal beauty standing at the door, her whisper of death enough to make his pulse race and send his arms into an unexpected spasm that sent Xiaotian falling to the side on the floor right next to the very gun his life had been threatened with.
"N-no, you ... YOU CAN'T!" he cried, back meeting the desk and putting a stop to his tracks. "I RAN AWAY CENTURIES AGO! I OWE THEM NOTHING, YOU HEAR ME?! NOTHING!!"
The monkey draped in ebony stepped closer, her smile never leaving and her eyes remaining pinned on her target as though he were a silly little mouse that had fallen into a cat's claws.
"I WILL NOT DIE THIS WAY!" the demon continued deliriously. "I WAS SO CLOSE! SO CLOSE, YOU HEAR?! YOU CAN NOT DO THIS TO ME!"
Another step forward.
The demon flinched back violently and opened his mouth yet again, a shriek on the tip of his tongue.
All that followed after, though, was the mere sound of his body falling backwards onto the desk: his mask of horror, forever engraved on his face, now painted with a crimson that ran down his forehead from the thorn-like blade that had been thrown directly into the center of it.
The room was silent after that, allowing the occupants to take a moment to process what had just transpired until two of them snapped out of their stunned daze and ran to eachother—one of them tackling the other in a bone-crushing hug.
"Holy shit, kid." Wukong felt as though a weight had just been lifted off his shoulders. "I'm never letting you out of my sight again," he decided.
Xiaotian only let out a watery laugh in reply and snuggled further into his father's chest, his hands shaky as he gripped the fabric of his suit.
Amidst their heartfelt reunion, Wukong lifted his gaze up to the lady of thorns, wanting to ask if she was single thank her for stepping in when she did—even if she most likely didn't originally come here to save them some trouble.
What he quickly discovered, however, was that she was no longer there.
Instead, what once sat in her place was that of a red rose with thorns.
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wink-1-8-2 · 1 year
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Superstitions/Customs in the desert:
There's a superstition in the desert that you can never have more than one clock at the same time in the desert. There are several clocks in the Diner, and they all have different times on them (it's not like anyone knows which one's right anyway)
On the longest night of the year, 'joys leave raven feathers (that magically appear near the mailbox) on doorsteps, as a small gesture of love for the lonely in the desert. Prayer beads are gifted to loved ones, to try and get through the night, and the desert is watched warily, through wide-eyes. Sleep doesn't seem to be an option.
Similarly, on the longest day of the year, the sands in the desert are streaked with vibrant colours and fruit, and whether it's 'joys who do it, or the Witch, no one knows. It's a huge day for celebration, and most Zonerunners let go of grudges and fighting for a day. Sometimes it even rains.
Giving someone a dyed lace signifies romantic attraction, and love, while tying a black or white laces around someone's possession or door frame signifies an omen of death or revenge. You should hit the red lines if you get an uncoloured piece of lace. If a 'joy receives a colourful piece of lace, though, they'll signify their feelings by wearing the piece of last around their thigh or their bicep. Often, these laces are woven into commitment bands several years later.
Love for a crew or family is signified through many things, though a popular custom includes giving family a piece of china, creating bracelets out of soda tabs, or even giving a piece of fabric to a loved one- different colours and designs signify different things (e.g. yellow or green or red soda tabs/fabrics signify blood-relations, while purple flowers signify friendships. The Four all have bracelets made from little purple flowers that were forged from different soda tabs, and Poison and Kobra each have a piece of fabric from each other in yellow, Poison's got theirs wrapped around their calf, Kobra wears his as a bandana).
Like during the Dust Bowl in the 1930s, some 'joys will cut open the stomachs of dead snakes and hang them by their necks, during droughts or bad weather.
Photographs are a shockingly valuable thing to have, if they're from before the Bombs. Several photographs are stung out and hung up around homes and baby-cribs as a way of protection, like all the ghosts of the people smiling in the photos will project the place from harm. It's a way of honouring the dead, keeping a photograph and trying not to let the sun ruin it, through any means necessary. The Witch receives many of these photos, and similarly, they are handed down to younger crewmates (The Girl got a lot of these photographs). Photographs are also a way of escapism, and 'joys will pretend that things aren't so bad, pretend that they know and love these strangers to ignore the outside world for a while.
It is customary to get a tattoo or something permanent for crewmates after a couple of years. Often, 'joys get their crewmates' symbols, or small messages scrawled out (messily, mostly) on their skin. Often, crewmates design the tattoos themselves. As well as that, if a crewmate dies, it's possible that the tattoo will fade, or turn a different colour, as a message from the Witch. Separating completely from a crew means the ink will fade, and the tattoo will scar, though many people still have ex-crewmates' tattoos - a signal that a 'joy has not moved on.
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catsafari25 · 5 months
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A/N: Hello again, and with this I think (?) I may have succeeded in writing enough bionicle fic to get it out of my system (unless another plot bunny hits me like a cannonball, but... eh, we'll see) and thus, here is the companion piece to the Vakama & Roodaka oneshot.
This time, exploring the scene where Vakama entered the Great Temple, from his side of things! This was also partially inspired by the scene in Challenge of the Hordika where Nokama is almost physically repulsed in trying to enter the Great Temple :)
x
In the tunnels beneath the temple, Vakama must stoop.
At first he shuffles, mutated arm tucked against him and his sole hand brushing only briefly along the floor to steady himself, but the passages are dark and deep and lined with creatures which seek out the weak. The eyes that watch him are not hungry. They keep their bellies too full for that.
In the end, it is easier quicker to drop to all fours, to share the weight between claw and tool that feet alone cannot. His altered form folds into the new stance with frightening familiarity. It's comfortable.
Natural.
The crown of his mask grazes the tunnel's ceiling, but only in passing. His gait is sure. Well. Surer than the ungainly slouch it had been before.
It was said – back when Matoran were awake to say such things – that even the strongest swimmers of Ga-Metru would hesitate before plunging into the depths of the protodermis sea. Not because the creatures there had any fondness for the taste of Matoran. In truth, it was thought that the rahi actively disliked the flavour. No, it was because the way Matoran swam was indistinguishable from the rahi's usual prey. Only when they had sunk tooth and jaw into their meal would they realise their mistake.
It was an annoying, if harmless mistake for the rahi.
Matoran couldn't say the same.
Vakama's early crawl through the passage had been like that of a Matoran swimmer: functional, but slow and indiscernible from wounded prey. Creatures drag themselves down into these depths to die, in hopes that they will be devoured only when they are too far gone to feel it. The eyes are patient. They will wait to see if this newcomer is similarly inclined.
And so when Vakama drops to his haunches, the eyes blink. Reassess. He moves less like the hunted and more like the hunter now, more predator than prey, and the eyes – and teeth – keep their distance after that.
The path Vakama stalks through was once a protodermis pipe, made obsolete even before the cataclysm. Newer conduits had been built, more efficient, more resilient, and this one had been disconnected but never dismantled. When he reaches its origin, it takes some effort – and his blazer claw – to break the seal across the hatchway, but when he does, one of the temple's protodermis purification chambers looms above him.
The room beyond is quiet.
Unmarked.
He doesn't realise he's stopped until the chittering of his audience draws closer. The snarl he throws back echoes off the pipe's walls, and the eyes retreat, but do not leave.
Vakama curls his hand around the lip of the hatch, and then falters.
Something is wrong.
It's not a pain, because the feeling does not hurt as it ought, but something is undeniably, fundamentally wrong. It causes his breath to catch, his hand to flinch, and it would be so easy, so easy, to turn and walk away, only...
Only he came here for a reason.
The wrongness flares, amplified for a moment, and then he pulls himself up. The eyes watch, but do not follow. Do they feel it too? Can even such base creatures sense the innate malice the temple exudes?
He clambers out of the purification chamber – empty and abandoned now – and stumbles upon his landing. He catches himself, but does not rise back to his feet.
Wrong.
This is wrong.
And at the edge of the wrongness there is a strange sort of terror. It dreads the same way the fire fears the sea, the same way the prey fears the predator; it is the meeting of two primally antithetical forces where only one can survive. It whispers turn back through his mind.
He moves into the next room.
It's one he knows well. Light filters down from the rot-stained windows, centering – as it had the day he'd first seen it – on the suva, and casting long sentinel shadows of the columns standing to attention around it. A crack mars the suva, its stone dome now split cleanly in two from the quakes, and – drawn by some desire he cannot identify (instinct, curiosity... nostalgia?) – he approaches.
It seems so small now. Even bowed and altered in his Hordika form, he looms over the Ta-Metru symbol he'd once had to stretch to reach.
Unbidden, his hand moves to the niche where once he'd placed a Toa Stone – where once he had though himself chosen, duty-bound, destiny-gifted – and falters a breath from the stone.
The wrongness spikes.
Screams.
And with a twist of something he will not call horror, he understands it is not originating from himself.
But from the temple.
It is repulsion. It's alienation. It's recognising him, but as other, as rahi.
It's disgust that a monster would dare enter its sanctuary.
In the Ta-Metru carving, stone once polished to the point of fragmented reflection, he sees a glimmer of his own face. Neither Toa nor Matoran. Nothing blessed by Mata Nui.
Vakama recoils.
And then a wave of his own disgust, propelled by that fury that runs so close to the surface now, rolls through him. If you didn't want us as the Toa, you should've stopped Makuta from choosing us, he thinks, and digs his claws into the stonework.
The wrongness sings.
But he knows it for what it is now, and his morphed, clawed hand gorges scars through the carving. The stone is soft. Its makers had never imagined someone would take a blade to it.
There comes a tapping from across the room, echoing brazenly off the ancient stone walls, and Vakama retreats instinctively into the shadows. A Rahaga enters.
Norik?
No, this Rahaga's armour is more akin to a Po-Matoran than a Ta-Matoran's, the colour of dust and stone. Vakama tries to recall the Rahaga's name – and then dismisses the attempt.
It won't matter, in the end.
The Rahaga walks as he always has, stooped and slow, but clearly unhindered by the temple. He passes by the suva and runs one gnarled hand across the stonework, his movements marred by curiosity rather than reverence.
The rage arrives a fully-formed creation. It drowns out the wrongness, floods the apprehension, and he is moving before he's decided that this is the path he wants.
It is not pain, for it does not hurt as it ought.
But it does still hurt.
x
Whatever the Rahaga might once have been, they are old and weak now. Four are captured before Vakama's rage has a chance to cool, but the ire is no less dangerous when it does.
(That's the thing about Ta-Metru; it's not a place of fire so much as it is of magma. And magma doesn't extinguish with the cold; it sets. It moors itself into place, an unmovable, burning force.)
The rage settles, solidifies around his heart and lungs and carves a home between his breaths.
(Magma is not fire. It does not leap blindly from one source to the next. Instead it advances. Slowly. Steadily. It finds a channel, a destination, and it engulfs all in its path until it reaches it.)
He finds the last two remaining Rahaga, pathetically ignorant to their brothers' fates and still scavenging the temple for answers. He hears the way Norik appraises his sister's translation, relief clear in his voice that they are one step further on this wild rahi chase. Relief, surely, that the Rahaga are one step closer to regaining their Toa form.
(And Vakama's anger has found its destination.)
He does not descend on the Rahaga's leader the way he has the others. No. Norik will know what's coming for him first. He gets to fear. Vakama waits until Gaaki has gone, until Norik is alone, and then he circles. The wrongness thrums in his veins, weighing him down and labouring his breaths. It doesn't matter. Let Norik hear his approach.
Norik doesn't try to run. Vakama will give him that much. (A wise choice. Vakama intends for this encounter to last, but if Norik runs, Vakama cannot be sure he won't chase.) Instead, the malformed once-Toa calls out and actually tries to approach him. Stupid. Doesn't he know that he won't win any fight, transformed as he is? As both of them are? No, instead, he tries to talk. As if they are equals, as if Norik has done anything to deserve his respect rather than his scorn. As if he has earned the temple's forgiveness for his trespassing.
Even when Vakama raises the fate of Norik's fellow Rahaga, Norik attempts to sway him with the illusion of reason, talking of duty and unity, as if he's not using the other Toa Hordika to chase after a rahi myth for his own desires. As if their roles are in any way comparable, both Toa of Fire once, both leaders, it's true, but Vakama hasn't forgone his duty to chase after selfish needs.
And it stops now.
Vakama circles closer, and Norik is still talking, unease in his voice, but not fear. Still searching for the right words to turn Vakama to his bidding as he has the other Toa Hordika. Ever the voice of two-faced logic.
Why won't he just shut up?
Does Norik think him to be as gullible as the others? As quick to desert his duty as them?
And Vakama knows he wants – needs – to shake that assurance, that arrogance out of Norik. Needs to see that facade of self-righteous wisdom crumble into the terror of his situation.
The growl begins deep in his chest and, unleashed, it becomes a roar. He rears out of the darkness, into the weak sphere of light surrounding Norik – and there, there he finally sees true fear fill the old fool's eyes.
Something slams into Vakama and he reels, his roar cut short. His hand reaches automatically, defensively, to his mask. He finds only water there. It clings to him, imbued with some sort of power – he can feel something other in it – but otherwise impotent.
"Leave my brother alone," Gaaki snarls. She stands in the doorway, small and hopelessly overpowered, but her shoulders are tensed with a stubborness Vakama recognises. Already, her spinner is powering up for another shot.
Well. Two can play at that game.
Vakama's rhotuka fires into motion, but the water has seeped into the mechanism, and dowses the fire before it has a chance to catch. He gives it a withering look, before turning the expression onto Gaaki. "Very clever."
Another water spinner hits him, but this time he is braced for it and all it does is wash harmlessly off him.
"Is that all you have?" he asks. His blazer claw splutters, but the claws on his hand flex. After all, there's more than one way to defang a muaka...
Gaaki steps back. Good. She knows she's outmatched. "It's a devastating attack underwater," she offers, and her words are strong but there is a cracked edge to them.
"Then you'd better start finding a puddle," Vakama growls, "before my claws find you," and he drops into a run, feet pounding and fangs bared and that ever-present wrongness humming about him.
She doesn't flee. Just like Norik, she stands her ground, gnarled fingers wrapped tight around her staff. Her eyes are hard, but he sees the way her hands shake.
How long will her resolve last, Vakama wonders. Before or after the claws find their mark?
He never finds out.
He's knocked off his feet before he reaches her, and when he hits the ground, ropes of energy pin him to the earth, like a water-bound rahi caught in a net.
What–
Norik.
He'd forgotten Norik.
He thrashes against the restraints, but they hold strong – for now. His blazer claw splutters again, but it does nothing to the energy that binds him.
He stills as he hears footsteps approach.
The two Rahaga hobble into his line of sight. Gaaki is breathing hard, as if only now is she allowing herself to feel the fear. "You left that late, Norik," she says, and even the breath that follows sounds more like a shaken wheeze than a nervous laugh. "Almost too late."
"I only had the one shot. I couldn't afford to miss," Norik replies. "He's got our brothers. Gaaki, go find–"
"I'm not leaving you alone with him," she retorts. "I only went for a moment before, and look what would have happened if I hadn't returned."
Vakama tilts his head as well as the energy net will allow. He grins at the Rahaga, anger curdling it into a sneer. "Yes, Gaaki, you're very good bait, congratulations." He shifts his gaze to Norik. "But you've always been so good at getting others to do your dirty work, haven't you, Norik?"
Norik doesn't even have the decency of guilt. Instead, he simply looks tired. "Whatever you think you know–"
"I know the truth! You don't care about the Matoran, you only care about yourselves!" He strains against the ropes, and although they do not break, there's a little more give in them than before. He slumps back to the ground, breathing hard. "You might have the other Toa fooled. You might even have the temple fooled, but not me," he growls, and the temple's hatred presses down on him, straining his last words.
Gaaki places a frail hand on her brother's arm. "Norik," she says, and there is such unbearable sorrow in her voice. "He looks in pain."
"It's not my doing," Norik assures her softly. "My snare spinner only binds."
Vakama snarls. "I don't need pity from the likes of you. I know what you are."
"We're allies, Vakama," Norik says, in that insufferably reasonable way of his. "Friends."
"You're frauds," Vakama snaps. He twists against his restraints. They slacken, just a touch. "Liars. You don't deserve to walk these floors."
And the Rahaga stand there, unburdened by the temple's hate, strangers to this land, to Metru Nui, and yet it is Vakama the temple repulses? After everything he has forgone, the life he's abandoned, the friendships he's lost, Mata Nui punishes him?
His rhotuka fires off a fire spinner, and it goes wide, cracks a wall. Norik and Gaaki stumble back, Norik preparing another snare shot, but the energy net holding Vakama snaps. Vakama lurches forward, suddenly free, and slams into Norik.
The snare spinner wraps itself around a column. It lights up the room with crackling energy.
A blast of water grazes past his shoulder, too shy of hitting Norik to commit to taking the easy shot, and Vakama reels towards Gaaki. He fires with a snarl, but hears the snare spinner coming again and ducks at the last moment.
Again his own attack misses and the shot cleaves clean through a wall. Something on the other side begins to smoulder.
Then it begins to rumble.
It's a low sound at first, as deep as the earth and just as vast. Almost like a distant growl. But then the cracks begin to spiral out across the roof, along the columns, and the room buckles.
The light flickers. The frames of the high windows above collapse.
The world becomes fragmented, filled with flickering images. Falling masonry and toppling pillars and dust – but the sounds never relent. Even in the depths of the passing darkness, the thunder continues.
And when the dust settles, so does an awful silence.
Vakama straightens, or does his best approximation of it. Fragments of cracked protodermis fall from his shoulders, his head, his back. He withdraws the hand which has somehow found itself raised above Gaaki, knocking aside the stone slab caught against his arm.
Where's Norik?
Both Hordika and Rahaga stand side by side, that quietness disturbed only by the skittering of stone shards settling. There is wrongness in his breath, his head, and it's impossible to separate where the temple's ends and his begins. But any moment now, Norik will reappear from the wreckage, bearing that ever-same holier-than-thou look, and the anger will rise anew in Vakama.
Any.
Moment.
Now.
"You've killed him," Gaaki says, and her voice breaks that terrible stillness. She draws in a half-breath that cracks into a sob. "You've... oh, Norik..."
No.
No, it was an accident. He hadn't meant to– Norik had simply been in the wrong place. It wasn't as if he'd taken a blazer claw to Norik, or hit him directly with a fire spinner. He'd only meant to... what? What had he only meant to do?
Something swings towards him and he grabs the staff before he even registers what it is.
"He's not dead," Vakama says, and maybe if he says it, he might even believe it. He snaps his gaze to Gaaki, as if her grief is bringing it to pass. "He's not. He's not as easy to kill as that. When the others– when the Toa find him, he'll be fine. Fools like him always find a way to survive."
Gaaki attempts to pull her staff free, but her strength is no match for Vakama's. He wretches it out of her grasp and tosses it aside.
"Stop that."
She doesn't listen to him, only steps back and charges up her rhotuka. The grief in her eyes fogs into hatred.
The water spinner hits him but does little more than rock him.
"Stop."
Gaaki screams, a sound of rage and anguish, and releases a volley of spinners as ineffectual as the first.
Vakama's patience – or whatever had held him in place until now – snaps. He lunges forward. His claws close around the joints of Gaaki's rhotuka and pins the mechanisms harmlessly into place, in the same manner one might pick up a baby ussal crab by the widest edge of its shell. She thrashes, but Vakama's grip holds.
"I said, stop," he snarls.
She's breathing hard, her gasps sharp-edged with agony. "You killed him," she says, voice hoarse and hateful.
His insides twist, and – Gaaki hauled by his side – he starts the ascent to where the rest of the Rahaga are trapped. He doesn't look back to the rubble. Doesn't glance for one last glimpse of Norik's resting place.
He's not dead. He's not dead he's not dead he's not
The wrongness, the hatred, has woven so deep into him, it's almost a part of him now.
Toa don't kill. Vakama can't remember who taught him that (he recalls, briefly, the flash of a gold mask, but it comes with pain – grief – and he pushes it aside before it can take root) but it gnaws at him like a trapped stone rat. Toa don't kill.
But he was never meant to be one.
And if the Great Temple – if Mata Nui – thinks a mistake was made in Vakama's destiny....
Well. That's somebody else's problem.
x
The Hordika that returns to Roodaka is different from the one she sent out. There's something new in his eyes... or perhaps something lost.
"How was the temple, Vakama?" she asks when it's just the two of them.
He looks to her. Beneath the anger, beneath the rahi, there's almost a haunted look to those eyes. It vanishes a moment later, but Roodaka never doubts her own eyes.
"Unwelcoming," he replies, and Roodaka smiles. She could have suggested Vakama pick the Rahaga off one by one in the chaos of Metru Nui, outside where her Visorak could have been an aid... but the temple had been too good an opportunity to miss.
"Good." She sets a hand on his shoulder. "You owe no loyalty to Mata Nui, Vakama. Not anymore."
He rolls his shoulder, but not sharp enough to dislodge Roodaka's hand.
"One thing I do not understand," she says. "What happened to the sixth Rahaga?"
The Toa growls. It is a gutteral sound, rooted deep in the chest and at home in a way it wasn't before. "You wanted a message left for the other Toa. I needed a messenger."
"Alive?"
Vakama shrugs his shoulder again, and this time she lets him roll her hand loose. "Does it matter, so long as they understand?" he growls.
No, Roodaka concedes as she surveys the remains of the Toa before her. She supposes not.
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familyofpaladins · 7 months
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Me: I have this idea for a fic! I think it will be about 9-10k words! A good amount! Not too little not too much!
*10k words later*
Me: .... I'm only half done. Haha... ha O_O
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rekikiri · 7 months
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I want Matt and Andrew to become good friends after the girls graduate.
I believe that they end up living together after Andrew joins his team in the pros. When Neil visits, Matt nopes out of there for a night or two and comes back for Bestie Night (where the three hang out, but it’s mostly Matt and Neil being friends)
Just. Matt joining The Monsters™️ his last year and becoming Andrew’s bestie. Like that’s his best friend’s partner, by association, they should be besties. Best friend in law. It just makes sense.
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askthekirbysquad · 9 months
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I've been working through RtDL DX's Extra Mode fairly slowly, so I'm only just getting close to finishing it up now. I got all 120 Energy Spheres earlier today, and uhhhhhhh
Fun fact: This dialogue is entirely new to DX! It's not in the original. I went back to my old file on the Wii and checked.
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Haha yeah you little shit, we know you're planning to betray us soon (still love you though <3)
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WHAT THE FUCK????????
EXCUSE ME????????
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And then he goes on to explain a bit more, as seen above. But uhhhhhh,,, yeah!!! He's not actually Halcandran!!!! That's a new piece of Lore right there. My jaw dropped while reading it lmao
Anyway, moving on from that bombshell of a sentence, since we still aren't done with the full dialogue,
Remember that post I made a bit over a month ago talking about some of Manager Magolor's dialogue, where I was wondering if that dream of his regarding the theme park also applied to Main Mode Magolor?
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I WAS FUCKING RIGHT!
Hell yeah this is such a victory for me I was so excited to read that dghsghfs
Magolor stole the Master Crown so he could make a giant theme park Confirmed and Canon and Real /hj
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And then we also get a fun little reference to the Kirby Clash games!
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A steal in Kirby's eyes, maybe, but that's only because he doesn't understand real-world currency.
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And to close out this post, here are the last two lines of dialogue from this conversation!
Anyway. I'm losing my mind 💖
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phatcatphergus · 2 months
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Okay so here’s my opinion on what Tubbo should wear and what I think he would enjoy wearing :3 (also yes I know that some are the same picture with different colors but ignore that).
Let’s start with shirts:
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As everyone knows, I’m a big supporter of tubbo in green. I think darker greens look better but any type of green suits him in my eyes. I chose baggier/loser fits because he doesn’t like restrictive clothing. I do think a more fitted long sleeve would be fine if it’s a stretchier fabric and isn’t too heavy. I’m a huge fan of the shirt he borrowed from piso in the candy stream and i think he should look into interesting knits to add a good visual with an otherwise blank shirt.
Now onto blue:
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Again, a spectrum in hue but overall I think a loose fit or non restrictive style is the main goal.
I know I say dark/cool tones but there are exceptions:
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Neutral or darker warm tones wouldn’t be awful. I definitely think you have to be careful to not wash him out in a pink or stark white, but deeper reds/reddish orange and off whites would work well. Especially if he has some layers. Again, a loose fit or stretchy fabric so he doesn’t feel restricted or that his physique is more noticeable.
ALSO!!!!
I ran out of picture room but a fitted shirt isn’t the end of the world. He has a black shirt now that he wears that’s an athletic shirt he likes. I think he looks great in it, but I don’t think it’s his favorite to wear on stream because of how fitted it is (even though he looks amazing in it). I mostly kept to the loose fits because he tends to gravitate towards. It’s also easier to style a baggier shirt bc you literally just put on a shirt. It’s also easy to layer and dress up a bit. It’s a great and comfortable base outfit or finished look.
I also mostly used blank shirts to get the style across but I think certain prints and graphic t-shirts would work well too. Especially if he layers. Buy that’s another post and a half.
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non-sims · 11 months
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“Only because you asked nicely.” ...
Part 2.5 of the flashback/prologue of Will they or Won't they.
Will they or Won’t they  |  Chrono
PREV / NEXT
Day Two Continuation
RAI: Thanks for agreeing to meet up with me.
BRUNO: I didn't think you would text me.
RAI: I…my friend ditched me and I was bored sitting in a room alone.
BRUNO: I'm glad you thought of me.
BRUNO: I ordered you coffee, was that alright.
RAI: Yeah, sure. Thank you.
RAI: Umm I'm sorry about last night, the kiss. I wasn't drunk or anything I just-it felt right to do.
BRUNO: Hey, you didn't force me and I believe I pursued you first. 
RAI: …
BRUNO: I don't regret the kiss. Matter of fact I would like to get to know you better.
RAI: …I'm not from here.
BRUNO: Neither am I.
RAI: So where are you from?
BRUNO: Henford on Bagley.
RAI: I'm from Sulani but I'm living in del sol valley right now.
BRUNO: That's a big move.
RAI: Yeah it is. I went there for a vacation then I met my friend, who I'm here with. We hit it off and he convinced me to move there.
RAI: He said it would help with my hobby too.
BRUNO: Which is?
RAI: Making music, well random beats really.
BRUNO: That's impressive, have you released any?
RAI: I have… anonymously.
BRUNO: Why?
RAI: I don't want the attention I guess…
RAI: So do you have any hobbies?
BRUNO: Ah I like cooking whatever recipes I find online. And I play bass and chess.
RAI: That's a lot and time consuming. Do you work?
BRUNO: I'm just an office worker. I actually want to quit but that's not in the cards right now. 
BRUNO: Would you like to go for a walk with me?
RAI: Sure, why not.
RAI: Wait. Is that a random dj booth, here at some abandoned ruins.
BRUNO: I think they have parties here.
BRUNO: How about you show me some of your skills? For me. Please.
RAI: Only because you asked nicely. ...
PREV / NEXT
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tangledinink · 10 months
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blood-injections · 8 months
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Wrote something btw
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mintytealeaves · 16 days
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the different factventure couples in this fandom summed up in memes I made up—
@spooky-sharko
Craig: *writing in his journal* day 36 of trying my best not to file for divorce bc this is just how Rick is, a stupid clock is right once a month—
suckersoprano
Craig: fuck rick. I hate rick. He’s stupid. I wanna fuck him. I WILL fuck his stupid ass. That’ll prove that I’m smart yes.
@scrawnym4
Rick: I love you
Craig: I love you too
*clink* (they kissed. Lol get it? Cause they metal ball heads—) *CLINKCLINKCLINKCLINKCLINKCLINKCLINKCLIN-*
@angstflavoured
*based off a piece of art I saw for them*
Craig: ooooooooh god you’re bleeding
rick: *lip bite* for you
Craig: NO YOU ARE LITERALLY BLEEDING
Rick: least I get ta see yer pretty face ‘fore I di—
Craig: N O - -
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