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watcher-servant · 1 year

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A Knight's Test

After the dam had bust and the outburst with Ruby, Jaune looked down at the water and the bridge. The screams of the people still echoing in the ears mixing with the sound of the water, as mist would start to rise and the ghostly whine of horse echoes. Jaune stands up, his face twisting in shock and turning to the other 3 before settling on Weiss.

Jaune: "Weiss, take Juniper and go with the others after Ruby."

Weiss: "Wait, what do you mean we should be going together?"

Jaune: "Weiss I'm begging you go with the others and take Juniper with you to find Ruby. She needs you more than me right now."

As he says thus Juniper would get close nuzzling against him

Jaune: *Pets her* I know, girl, but right now they need your speed and nose. I'll catch up when I can."

Weiss: "Jaune, are you -"

Jaune: * turns towards her face in anger* "GO NOW! He only wants me anyway, and there's no chance he'll let you interfere."

Weiss would approach Juniper as a small glyph that appears to shoot out a chain to create makeshift reins. Yang and Blake would hop on Juniper's back as the four of them would ride off. Juniper would call back jaune, wanting to stay at his side, but knows she cannot.

Jaune: *Turns to the mist as he would draw sword getting into a stance as rain droplets start to come down* "Come on....I'm right here."

From the mist, another whine of a horse is heard as walking ethereally across the water appears a knight clad in black armor with a horned helm on horseback. The horse snorts puff of smoke as the knights visor act as it eyes showing that glowing red pupils at Jaune

???: "Finally done running, Rusted Knight?"

Jaune: "Yes...I am."

???: "Do you know who I am?"

Jaune: *Lowers his stance slightly* "I do...well, I know the legends...the stories, but I didn't want to believe. I thought it was just my mind playing tricks, but I need to accept what I'm looking at."

???: "Then say it. Say my name."

Jaune: "....Spirit of Chivalry!!"

A bright flash of lightening lightens up his form as azure flames would appear casting the spirit's grisly and dark form in the light of a phantom.

S.O.C: "Indeed I am he, and who are you vagrant knight? You who lost his path clinging to the past acting a shield knowing in truth its nothing more than your shackles? Tell me vagrant...WHO ARE YOU?"

Jaune: "I....I'm Jaune Arc, only son of Nick Arc. A family of warriors that served as guradians and knights for generations."

S.O.C: "Ah...a legacy then. However, a knight doesn't stand before me. What I see is nothing more than a coward boy playing fantasy. There is hope, though, for I see a spark no matter how small or how fleeting I shall test you to see if you possess strength."

Jaune: "Strength...what strength? I've trained and pushed myself to improve so I could protect everyone! Yet.....yet when I thought I reached a good spot, it all slipped through my fingers. I wasn't strong enough....I never was."

S.O.C: "Foolish Boy!" *His horse would stomp its hoof as lighting would crash down* "Strength does not come from physical form alone, blind reliance on it shows your weakness. You may be dammed like me, faltering when the crucial moment comes....I've seen countless disappointments like this, and all met their end with my blade."

*As he says this, multiple warriors and knights would appear in the mist looking on the new victim of their lord's trial*

S.O.C: "Be it blade or shield, lance or ax, no matter how grand or well made they are it holds no power if the weilder lacks inner strength to use it. No victory is won with just muscle it must be backed by mettle and focus. Now show me your resolve...show me what lies within your soul. Or else you'll fall here....AS YOUR LIFE BECOMES NOTHING BUT RUST ON MY BLADE!!!"

*A flash of red would appear on his gauntlet as a sword handle would grow from it. Gripping it and unsheate it showing a blade that glows with dark energy. With a loud whine of his horse, spectral spears fly down from the sky, making jaune dodge backward. Jaune would come out a bit unscathed, leaving him no room to breathe between them. The S.O.C would appear before him swinging his blade down, shattering Jaune's shield and gauntlet. Letting out a cry of agony, Jaune would try to counter with a slash only for it to meet the spirits blade, causing a flash of blue light breaking the remains of crocea mors and destroying his other gauntlet. The S.O.C would let out a mirthful chuckle as his horse would knock Jaune back.*

S.O.C: "Yes that's it! Show me your resolve, your will to fight! Show me how hard you're willing to push yourself to achieve even the slightest of victory!" *His horse would let out another whine as it dances back as more spears would rain at Jaune.*

*Jaune would dodge the barrage but would take some hits as the spars would hit his leg armor, destroying them both. With no chance to counter the S.O.C. would come in for another swing of his sword, destroying Jaune's plate mail and with a follow-up slash destroying his helmet.*

*Jaune would be sent tumbling back as his vision would darken with his shallow breathing. He considered laying there and letting his death happen, but then a myriad of voices would come to him as memories would play in his mind. Pyrrha's smiling encouragement, her sacrifice as he was helpess to stop her. Penny's words of reassurance, her sacrifice, he was forced to assist... and despair. Ruby, Weiss, Blake, Yang....Nora, Ren, Oscar, stilling waiting on the other side in Vacuo. They would need him... Winter as well, they need allies. He just needs to stand up and survive.....but should he fall here, what's left? What would happen to a broken team RWBY, would they make it out alive with their sanity intact?. He had to help those in the Ever After....it was his duty as the Rusted Knight.

S.O.C: "Foolish child, you cling to a false prophet. The Rusted Knight is a hollow soul, his armor rusted because he does not possess the strength to stand on his own and take care of himself. He does not trust others, but a true knight does not treat his oath as shackles to hold themselves down. They are treated as reminders to boost himself, perhaps had you not feel sorry for yourself instead of steeling your resolve until no problem couldn't stop you, then maybe you would've succeeded and survived. Now stand up, and face your death like a proper knight."

*Jaune would slowly pull himself up as a spear would come down, piercing his chest. As he coughs up blood, his vision would darken as the voices of more poisonous comments come to mind. His father's words saying knights are no longer needed, no worry to continue the legacy. The derisive words of all the people at Beacon and Qrow's harsh words*

Jaune: *Thoughts* "Then...if they were stronger than him why aren't they here. Why am I the only one standing?"

????: "You know the answer....for those in the dark who's voices aren't heard. For the fiends that would slink back into the shadows thinking they're safe."

*A small light would come through the shaft of the spectral spear making jaune look down. It was small and it flickering, he had to reach it...to strengthen it. Jaune would grab the spear trying to force his aura through it slowly but surely making the light grow.*

*Outside the S.O.C would look down at the man, his body still skewered by the spear. His head looking down as if dead.*

S.O.C: "A true knight isn't strong because of their weapon. The only thing they would need is the balance of strength and will to their mettle. You have failed child of Arc...fall into the shadows and take your spot along with crowd of lost warriors." *Turns away from Jaune's body only to stop as sense a pulse*

*Back with Jaune in his mind, the glowing in the spear shined bright like a star as it would crumble absorbing into his body. The dark landscape would would reel back from the light forming into another figure wearing grey armor as he places his hand on Jaune's chest.*

???: "You are close...don't forget those that trust you why we still fight."

Ren's Voice: "Despite everything, when I look at him, Yang, I see no fear in his heart."

????: "Now come we have test to past!" *The armored figure would force his hand into Jaune's chest, making him scream as light would engulf them both*

*Back in the real world, the spectral spear that held Jaune's body would crumble, absorbing into his body as light sparkles would come from his body*

S.O.C: *Turns back seeing the light coming from Jaune* "Hmmm has he figured it out*

Jaune: *Screams out as energy would cloak his right arm, forming a flickering blade of aura... yet despite the bright color and fragile appearance there's a hint of black keeping it stable* "I'm not done yet...there's still much more for me to do *Points his new blade at the spirit*

S.O.C: "Hmm so you come to me bearing new power...very well let's see if it's enough! *Would pull his arm back blade ready to strike as his horse would kick the ground ready to go*

*Jaune would get into a stance ready for anything as the horse would rear up and speed towards him the S.O.C ready to strike. Both warriors would run to each blades ready to strike as they would even clash with a loud boom.*

*Meanwhile, other parts of the Ever After would shake and rumble as the residents would turn towards a large column of black and white would pierce the sky scattering the rain clouds. With Ruby and little, both would feel the ground shake as they look to the column. With the curious cat, it would hiss at the column feeling a dangerous intruder over there. With WBY, as they rode Juniper, they would stop seeing the column, hoping Jaune is fine.*

*Back at the mist covered area Jaune and S.O.C would have their backs to each other as Jaune would fall down trying to keep himself up*

S.O.C: "Good...very good" *As he says this, one of the horns on his helm would crack and fall down. On his chest, it would bear a gash showing a eerie blue* "Your light has shine strongly, you walk the path of Sigurd, slayer of demons....no I sense darkness in your blade as well. You walk the path Taivas, warrior that overcame a infecting darkness making it hos own. Do you why I say this....what did they have in common?

Jaune: *Gets up and turns to the spirit* "They didn't lose their way...so nothing could hold him"

S.O.C: *Turns his horse towards jaune* "Very good you have passed my trial young arc come close wield your new blade." *Holds his sword out towards Jaune*

Jaune: *Summons his new sword feeling the aura cloak his entire hand as it makes the flickering line of aura and clash it with the knight's own blade*

S.O.C: "Hear me now young arc, fear and doubt only leads to death. One that doesn't acknowledge his faults doesn't deserve to be called a knight...however with you understanding this and making peace with yourself, have shown you have earned it. Do not forget this lesson if you do I will come after you again*

*With his peace said the S.O.C would disappear in a flash of light as the mist would finally clear up*

Jaune: *Turns towards the water, looking at his reflection....then back at his new sword. Grabbing his ponytail, he would hold it enough as he used the new aura sword to cut the pony tail off. Looking down at it showing it still holds the last remnants of Pyrrha's sash, Jaune would let it fall from his hand into the water, making it disperse* "Goodbye Pyrrha....Goodbye Penny."

*Jaune would turn only to be greater by another armored figure. Waiting to see if they would try something, the armored figure only plants his greatsword in salute before disappearing, leaving the blade. Jaune, confused by what he saw, walks up, grabbing the blade as it turns into a hooded button-up grey coat.*

Jaune: *Thinking on it for a bit, he would put on the coat buttoning up near his mouth, making it look like a cape* "Time to make amends....and to catch up." *Starts walking towards the dark Acre sensing Ruby and the others in that direction as he would put the hood up*

#jaune arc #rwby #weiss schnee #rwby volume 9 #writing ideas #final fantasy reference #Odin FFXIV

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salem-witch-history · 2 months

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Specters of What's to Come: The Goodwin Witchcraft Case

Witchcraft accusations were not incredibly rare in 17th century New England, but prosecution was difficult.

By law, two credible witnesses had to testify seeing witchcraft take place for an accusation to be deemed credible. This was difficult to provide, unless an accused witch confessed to the crime. Testimony of others could include witnessing of verbal curses and the presence of "poppets," what we now call voodoo dolls. Spectral evidence, the testimony that an afflicted person saw the invisible shape of a witch, was not supposed to be considered credible. Even in a society that believed wholeheartedly in witches, Puritans knew that people could lie, and many believed that Satan had the ability to take on the form of an innocent person to bring about their downfall. In some instances, accusers and even confessed witches were charged with perjury rather than witchcraft if the evidence was lacking.

There were times, however, when accused witches did meet the death penalty. The last and most newsworthy incident prior to Salem took place in Boston in 1688.

The prosperous Goodwin family had employed an Irish indentured servant named Mary Glover as a washerwoman. Mary, being Catholic and poor, was greatly distrusted, and the Goodwin's 13 year old daughter Martha accused her of stealing clothing. Distraught, Mary told her elderly mother, Ann, of this accusation, and the older woman flew into a rage. After a screaming match in which Ann "bestow'd very bad language" at Martha, the teenager, along with three of her younger siblings, began to suffer from fits deemed to be supernatural in nature.

These fits, described in the book Memorable Providences by Cotton Mather, were identical to what would occur in Salem: the children were struck deaf, blind, and mute, contorted themselves into painful positions, and cried out pitifully or made animal sounds. The extent of the fits were deemed to be beyond what would be expected of epilepsy or other known medical conditions, and too severe to be faked. At times, Mather stated, the children's jaws would dislocate, their tongues drawn out to "prodigious length," and their joints locked with their bodies in an arch.

When Glover was brought in on witchcraft charges, it was unclear whether or not she was competent to stand trial. Glover seemed to understand some English but could not speak it; when it became known that her incomprehensible speech was not Satanic language, but Irish, multiple examiners deemed her technically sane, though she still seemed confused by the proceedings. Robert Calef, who wrote the first exposé on the witch trials, More Wonders of the Invisible World, stated that "Her behavior at her trial was like that of one distracted. They did her cruel." She testified entirely through interpreters.

During the proceedings, the interpreters struggled to contextualize Glover's testimony, seemingly due to being unfamiliar with Catholic worship. She was questioned about small figures found in her home and admitted to praying to them as "spirits," which the interpreters admitted could also have meant saints. The children reacted negatively when Glover handled her homemade statues, signs of spectral interference. She was also instructed to recite the Lord's Prayer; this was a standard test for witchcraft, as Puritans believed that Satan's power prevented witches from praying. Glover was able to recite in Irish and Latin, but not English, and this was taken as further evidence of guilt.

Ann Glover was hanged on November 16th, 1688. Mather related that, visiting her in jail, she had claimed that her death would not relieve the children's suffering, which did come to pass; Martha's bewitchment continued for some time. Although Glover supposedly claimed that someone else was bewitching the children, no other witches were prosecuted, and over time the hysteria faded.

Mather's first-hand account of the incident was published less than a year later, in 1689. It is probable that some residents of Salem owned the book, at at least had heard of the crisis.

#history #salem witch trials

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lucidmagic · 1 year

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SecretCat!Larissa Weems x f!Groundskeeper!Reader (Part 1)

So I’ve been in the Larissa Weems hole and I haven’t even watched the damn show. And then I though about this post:

Larissa is a shapeshifter it’s a perfect fit!

Hence this small story (I have another planned that’ll be on AO3, whenever I’ll get to it)

Hope you enjoy!

Summary: As the post suggests, Larissa is going around teasing suitors as a cat, and the Reader (you) are the groundskeeper of Nevermore Academy with the biggest crush on her, but doesn’t pursue because you respect her wishes to not be shackled to someone. Oh how wrong you are......

Larissa Weems x f!Reader (Harold they’re lesbians.....)

Words: 3.1k

Trigger Warnings: Unwanted attention from men, storms, mentions of blood, brief animal in distress, useless lesbians being useless, dumbass gays, fluff.

Larissa Weems was 30 when her father, the richest, most influential man in the town of Jericho and part of one of the most powerful shapeshifter families, gave her an ultimatum: Marry someone agreeable and continue the family lineage/business, or he’ll find a suitable husband for her—without her consultation, of course. Obviously, Larissa didn’t take to this well, as she’d rather chew off her own left leg than let a man interfere with her aspirations and goals.

So, being the clever woman she was, she struck up a deal with her father. And being the business man he was, her father agreed.

And so, the most wanted and sought after heiress in the town of Jericho announced that she’ll marry (and subsequently bequeath part of the inheritance of her family’s money and resources to) the one person who can open her family’s manor door with the key around her cat’s neck. The Cat in which many of the town has nicknamed Ghost due to the Maine Coon’s pure white hair. Fitting, you suppose, also considering the animal’s elusive and spectral nature.

And so, many a man (and some women and those beyond and between) have tried—and swiftly failed—to capture, lure, and befriend the Cat.

Ghost was simply too quick, too clever, and far too smart to be caught by snares, treats, and nets. Some have even tried to use sleeping darts. But to no avail, the Cat still wanders the town, gathering bruised egos like dead mice.

Nary a week goes by without a prospective suitor falling to their ass from scaling a tree to get close to Ghost. Or a group of men cooing and offering treats to the animal perched two stories high, looking down with pure feline disgust and disinterest.

The town was littered with new and old snares, traps, and cat delicacies. All of which have been avoided by Ghost, much to the hunters’ chagrin.

All the while, Larissa Weems goes about her career without the interference of matrimony or her father’s whims.

Since the announcement of the Cat Chase, Larissa Weems had since been on an upward trajectory of her career: she became a darling professor at Nevermore Academy at 31 and within five years became Headmistress of the institution—the youngest ever.

Currently, at 38, it seemed she was enjoying her career and spinsterhood—much to the dismay of her father and those courters.

And you enjoyed her as your employer. Being the Academy’s groundskeeper and handywoman after all.

You managed the gardens, the ground’s upkeep, maintenance, health, borders, and general security. Your duties also accompanied that of the estate’s foreman, fixing shingles of the old building’s roofs, plumbing, and other necessities if they needed a quick repair.

You were integral to the preservation and efficiency of the Academy. Principal Weems—or Larissa, she insisted after several months of your service, but you don’t address her as such, out of respect for her position and also the cute, little pout she gifted you when you refuse.

You were good at your job as it’s in your blood—generations of your family served the Academy in some capacity—and in your soul—being a Psychic and all that.

Psychometry is one of your specialties, with the ability to sense an object or person’s history and present, which comes in handy with the multitude of plants and flowers on the property and old buildings. Does this rose need more or less water? What’s wrong with this particular lock? With a single touch you can know.

Coupled with that, either a specialized manifestation or what your father called a ‘drop of Dryad blood’ from a distant ancestor, you can also manipulate plants and trees to a certain extent. Nothing quite like Poison Ivy with her world conquering powers, but you can certainly restrain a person if needed—which had come in need several times with a drunk werewolf or vampire student in the past.

Your trees were green longer and your flowers were fuller and brighter. Principal Weems continuously tells you the gardens and grounds have never looked so vibrant and fragrant, even when she attended the Academy. You always waved away her compliments to distract from the rising heat on your cheeks.

So, in theory, you could have used your powers to tag-a-long with the others in the attempts to capture Ghost. It would be easy, you think. All the Cat needed to do was step on a vine and that’ll be it.

But no. Despite Principal Weems’ statuesque beauty (and you mean beauty in the sense of an artist’s muse or a god’s weakness, one for the legends and epics, not one for your unworthy, often muddy hands), her quick wittedness (sometimes you two talk an hour or two after she’s supposed to be home and you always leave a little breathless from the opportunity and from laughing), and her intelligence (you honestly think she could overtake the world if she puts her mind to it, just the same way she overtook yours), you respect her decision to stay single and not bound to someone else.

She wanted freedom, freedom her father was willing to sell away to the highest bidder. And you weren’t going to deprive her of that.

Sure, you sometimes catch Ghost sulking and sneaking around the fields and gardens, leaping from branch to branch, flowerbed to flowerbed, whenever you’re working. But you don’t make a show of it. Ghost is Larissa’s cat, of course he’d be at the Academy. She’s coming home to her owner.

Sometimes, you catch her in the tree above your head, looking down with crystal blue, oddly familiar, eyes like a gargoyle or a sentry. On occasion you wave up at the animal with a smile and then go about your work. Ghost must be resting from evading those eager suitors, you think.

Speaking of suitors, they do annoy you—not out of jealousy, of course not, well, maybe. They were going after what they wanted without shame and some part of you is jealous they are so open about it. But, no, jealousy isn’t what irritates you about them.

It’s their reasoning for their ‘courting’ (if you can even call it that). They wanted what she offered—money, influence, resources, and of course bragging rights. You overheard several men state as such at Jericho’s bars, enough that you spoil the barley in their beer with a clench of your fist. They wanted what Larissa comes with—just shallow and gold-digging desires. She always came second. She was an afterthought in their pursuance.

It made you sick and wrathful just thinking about it. Larissa Weems is much more than a trophy. She’s . . . well, she’s her.

She’s cold-natured, meaning anything below 70 degrees, she needs either a thick sweater or a crackling fire. Of the latter, you amply supply with firewood you chopped that morning and restock regularly.

(You try to forget the tall and unyielding figure at the faculty hall, watching on the balcony in grey or white. You doubt you looked particularly decent sweating and swinging an axe.)

She loved fresh tea, none of that packaged kind, but fresh straight from nature. Of which you also gifted her when you can, as you added her favorites in the gardens and made sure the potency is just right with your powers.

(There’s a crinkle of her brow when you drop off a bag of leaves, one that notches up with her carmine lips. If you have the urge to smooth it out with your thumb, you’re just concerned if the stress is showing on her face after hours of paperwork.)

She toured the gardens, sometimes, on her lunch breaks or when she has time in her busy schedule. Larissa will always stop and smell each flower if she can, and always double back to ones she liked just a bit more that day, just one more whiff before she leaves for her office.

(Of course, the next day, you sneak in, with the help of her assistant, to put those she deemed lovely in a vase next to her desk. Making sure to use your powers to make them live and bloom much longer than normal. Maybe, you hope, it’ll give her some reprieve for a moment, between meetings and calls.)

So, yes. The would-be suitors want her, but they don’t know her. And Ghost is just in the crosshairs of their caprices.

And they’re just fucking annoying. Especially, when their traps and snares make their way into your grounds. You always dismantle them when you can, much to their anger and displeasure.

(If you take particular pleasure in it, then no one has to know, but you and whatever god above.)

Of course, one of these times, it was pouring rain, drenching the land—and you—in a deluge. You could barely see five feet in front of you before the grey wall of water overtook your vision. But thankfully, you knew the lands of the Academy like the back of your hand and it was through muscle memory and your abilities that you navigated through the storm.

You had found more snares—made of Kevlar string and securely bolted to trees—in the back of the school during one of your rounds. You didn’t have the tools to properly deal with them. So, you headed back to your tool-shed—only for the bottom to fall out before you could get back.

Now, soaked and a little more than pissed at their audacity, you practically swam your way back. The torrent and winds made it difficult to see, let alone hear. And it wasn’t until you were up on the second to last one that you noticed that it triggered.

And something was struggling, right side up and writhing, clawing and biting at the line. Something whined and shrieked even through the thunder and rain.

No, not something.

Ghost.

Ghost was caught. Her pearl white fur was soaked and drenched, enough that you could just barely see the pink flesh beneath her coat.

Oh no. You must save her. Poor thing.

You rounded on the Cat, strung up on its front left paw. Her mewls were pained and agonizing. Your heart ached.

“It’s okay, I got you.” You said, softly, but the storm deafened it. You approached without thought. And with a single gloved touch of your hand, the Cat panicked more and leapt in a frantic escape attempt. Her paw twisted and another screech rang through the rain.

“Hey, stop! Stop!” You begged but she continued, trying her best to get away from you. Her fur covered her blue eyes and she was in survival mode. You needed to do this quickly before she hurts herself more.

You scoop up the large lump of writhing fur, trying to position her fangs and claws away from you. But the Kevlar string proved difficult with your shears, and it takes you longer than you would like. Three, Four, Five snips. . .

On the Eighth, you manage to cut it—and Ghost managed to wriggle free just enough.

Sharp pain slashed across your forehead, right above and through your brow, and you dropped the Cat as you reeled back, clutching your head.

“Fuck!” Through the cold rain, warmth blossomed in your palm. Faintly, iron entered the air.

Ghost plopped to the soggy ground and sprinted away to a near gate, then she pounced on it—one paw held to her chest. She landed deftly and turned toward you, eyes now free of her hair. Her bright eyes cut through the rain like a beaconing lighthouse. A tiny, razor-sharp lighthouse.

You steadied yourself against the tree and stared back, hand still staunching your wound. With your other hand, you shooed Ghost away and raised your voice so you can be heard over the thunder. “Go on! Get out of here. Go! Go back to Larissa. I’m not going to capture you.”

Ache thrummed across your forehead, but you still stood near the tree, eyeing the animal. After a moment, the white blob in the distance disappeared into the storm. Seconds passed before you sighed and then hissed as the sting increased with pressure.

Well, might as well get the other one while out here. . .

The next day, after intensively cleaning the three gashes across your brow, you visited the Academy nurse. She remarked, off-handedly, “Well, I’m certainly popular this morning.”

You don’t follow up with a comment, only asking her to look at it before you decide to go to hospital. She does and used more disinfectant and sealed the gashes with some Steri-strips and patched it with gauze and tape. With the orders to clean it twice a day, you leave, head throbbing from the poking and prodding.

You go about your day, dodging questions from other faculty and students about your new accessory.

“I fought a bear.”

“It’s a new French trend—you ought to try.”

“You should see the other guy.”

Eventually, your duties lead you to Larissa Weems’ office, arms full of freshly chopped wood. The storm season always brings in the cold and you knew she would appreciate it throughout the rest of the day.

You knocked your signature knock, and after a moment you heard the delightful ring of her voice, “Come in.”

Like a siren’s song, you obeyed. She greeted you with her red-painted smile, one that makes your heart thump just a little bit harder and your breath grow shallow. Larissa’s smile washed over you as you walked further in and placed the wood in its usual rest at the edge of the fireplace. The hearth is ablaze but dwindling. You dutifully added two more logs in and worked it with the poker.

It ignites after a second, and you couldn’t help but linger, soaking in the warmth and the other woman’s presence. Pathetic, you know, yet you enjoy these moments more than you should.

You turned to her, revealing your full figure, and when her cyanite gaze latched on to your patched forehead, the pretty, private grin on her face fell. Que the furrow between her eyebrows and the pursing of her mouth.

“Darling,” she began, voice saturated with concern. The nickname is not an uncommon gift from her to you. Even after all this time, it set something burning in your chest and frayed your will to not drop on your knees in that moment. (You bet she’ll look divine from that angle regardless). “What happened to your head?”

Larissa pushed back from her desk and rose from her chair, revealing her stature in its entirety, swathed in a light cream blazer and skirt combo. If it wasn’t for the slash of crimson lipstick on her mouth, you could have mistaken her for a marble figure, carved by Michelangelo himself. Vaguely you think of the myth about Pygmalion and Galatea.

The shadows of the fire danced across her figure and it took you a moment to find your tongue, “Oh, uh,” You gulped. “I ran into a tree branch yesterday afternoon. During the storm.”

You don’t want her to worry about Ghost—and by extension, her freedom.

She stared down at you, blue eyes almost black, and you resisted the urge to fidget. Then, something on her arm caught your sight and you zeroed in on the brace wrapped around her left wrist.

“You could ask you something similar,” you said. Your gloved hand reaches out to brush it, just light enough. If only it touched true to her skin. But your abilities can be unpredictable even after all these years, and you’d rather not glimpse something she wouldn’t want discovered. Hence the constant use of gloves.

“What happened? Who do I need to beat up?”

She gave a low chuckle from her chest. “No need to defend my honor. A simple sprain.” When you were about to protest, she continued, “. . . I tried to get somewhere, but I ended up biting off more than I could chew.”

She sounded hesitant, but you didn’t want to push. She needn’t disclose anything, especially to someone like you.

“If you want, I can whip up a salve from the gardens. Something that could numb it or even speed up the healing process.”

That gentle grin was back and your heart beats traitorously in your chest. “That would be lovely, dear. Thank you.”

You gifted her your goofiest of smiles. “Of course, Principal Weems. Is there anything else?”

There it was. That pout. Adorable.

However, her lips smooth over as another lesser-known visage crosses her features—playfulness she rarely displays to just anyone, lest her stalwart reputation be stained. Your breath stilled.

God, you’re hopeless.

Swiftly, much in the opposition of her height, she bent just enough to skim her lips over the gauze on your brow, and with a ping of pressure, she placed a kiss right above the wound.

Something deep within you latched around your heart and squeezed. A delicious shiver raced across your spine, spreading as if someone lit a wick and the line ignited all the way through your body.

Oh, that’s new.

Larissa leaned back just so, taking in your dumbfound face before she turned back to her desk. Far too proud of herself, you think. “If you want, we can have a nightcap together tonight. It’s been a while since we sat down over a glass.”

She’s right, you vaguely think. Between the beginning of the semester and some donor kerfuffle earlier this month, you two hardly had the chance to hangout. Not that it was a common occurrence to begin with, but it usually happened every month or two. It started about a year into your employment, and you had a feeling she did so to extend a branch of friendship.

Yes, friendship. That’s what you must remember. Nothing more. Despite what your heart wants, your mind knows best. Larissa Weems was a lonely figure, whether due to her job or her family, she needed someone in her corner.

“I would love to. Text me when you’re done for the day, and I’ll head over.”

She answered with a soft smile, one that crinkled her eyes.

You left her office, earning a strange look from Larissa’s assistant and some of the faculty in the hall.

The rest of the rounds go by in a blur of muscle memory and anticipation. You do give her the salve, dropping it off with her assistant, who still gave you a peculiar glance.

Hours later, after you did your deeds for the day and interacted with dozens of teachers and students, you went to your lodge to wash up before that evening. You don’t want to trek in mud or appear ungrateful after all. White and dirt don’t go together.

And that’s when you finally noticed, brandished on your brow the entire day, the damning deep red, lipstick outline.

So should I continue with part 2? Let me know!

Anyways back into my cave...

#larissa weems #larissa x reader #larissa weems x reader #principal larissa weems #larissa weems x female reader #Wednesday #netflix wednesday #principal weems #principle Larissa weems #principal larissa weems x reader #my fic #lucidmagic #lucidmagic story #wednesday fanfic #my fanfiction #larissa weems x f!reader

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five-rivers · 9 months

Text

Life's Great Lie 20

The last one!

AO3

It didn’t take Jazz long to figure out that all her controls were dead, and only a moment longer for her and Sam to conclude that all the electronics in the Ops Center were out of commission.

“Must have been the EMP,” said Jazz.

“I thought we were shielded against stuff like that,” said Sam. “Against ectoradiation and everything.”

Jazz shrugged. “Apparently not everything. We’re a lot closer than anyone would expect to be, too.”

“That's true,” said Sam. “No one expects to be at ground zero with these kinds of things.”

“Plus the, um,” said Jazz, her voice breaking a little, “the shields. Who knows how radiation will act, refracted through all of that? It’s… it's probably worse, closer to…”

“The building's still standing,” said Sam. They’re fine. They’ve got to be fine.”

“Right,” said Jazz. “Right. We should go down to Mom and Dad, see what they’re doing, if there’s any way to fix things… Um, there should be some emergency flashlights…”

“Will those even work?”

“Uh, shorter circuits aren’t as vulnerable, and neither are things that are off,” said Jazz. “Handheld things should be fine, mostly. I think. And the further from the blast the better.”

“But the Fenton Phones?” Sam pulled hers out of her ear.

“I don’t know. We were managing the connections with the stuff here, so that might have done something. It could be that the spectral noise filters got overloaded. It could be that interacting with ectoplasm made it worse. It could be a lot of stuff. Ah! Here!” She threw a flashlight to Sam.

Sam flicked the flashlight on and frowned at the green beam. “Is this an anti-ghost flashlight?”

“I have no idea,” said Jazz. “Probably. You know how Mom and Dad are.”

“I guess Danny isn’t here to get his by it,” said Sam. “Lead the way?”

“Yeah, so—”

“HEY, JAZZYPANTS! WE’RE ALIVE!” Dad scooped Jazz up in a giant hug.

“Okay,” wheezed Jazz. “Yep. Okay. I guess we don’t have to go find you.”

“Jazz, oh my goodness,” said Mom, joining the hug. “Have you heard anything from your brother? Tucker?”

“No,” said Jazz, wriggling. “Our Fenton Phones are dead.”

“The spectral interference must have been too great,” said Mom. “But we were hoping it wouldn’t have affected everything.”

“We’ll just have to improve our shields next time!” declared Dad. “But we need to go find Danny, first!”

“Yeah,” said Sam. “So, can we fly, now, or what?”

Mom shook her head. “We’re going to have to go on foot. We had a few blasters that were off that should be effective against the aliens. Or any ghosts who decide--”

“Mom,” scolded Jazz. “They came to help us, remember?”

Mom sighed. “I know, sweetie. It’s just in case.”

“Let’s go!” shouted Dad, yanking open a hatch and jumping down.

Jazz took a blaster from her mother and followed him down.

(The monsters the Hulk had been fighting had all gone limp. He still made sure they wouldn’t be getting up, but it was obvious that the fight was over. Somehow.)

(He stomped down the street. There might be a fight that way, towards the tall tower. But, in the meantime, he began to calm down.)

“Is everyone okay in here?” called Steve, addressing the whole subway platform. It was illuminated only by emergency lighting and cell phone lights. He cupped his hands around his mouth and tried again. “Is everyone okay down here?”

The crowd quieted, this time.

“Alright, so, it looks like the fighting is mostly over,” he said. “But there’s a lot of structural damage, and there’s still a lot of alien stuff. So stay down here unless you have to leave, or if emergency responders come to get you. I have to go—” The crowd exploded into questions. “I have to go make sure that we really have won.”

“Hey! Arrow boy!”

Clint did not jump, and he did not sigh. He did not sigh at the nickname he’d been given by a bunch of high schoolers. If anyone had a right to give him a stupid nickname, it was probably them, after all.

(However, if he ever ran into certain agents from his training days… He might cherish the fact that they hadn’t come up with anything better than literal children.)

“Fentons,” he said, by way of greeting. “Manson.”

He’d been on his way up, now that the storm had ended, and he couldn’t spot any more mobile enemies. Reestablishing communications once an area was relatively secure was a priority.

“Have you had any luck with your phone?” asked Maddie Fenton.

“You mean--?” He pointed at his ear. “No. Everything seems to be out.” Including the electronics for his arrowhead loader, which was decidedly inconvenient, although not as inconvenient as it would have been before the sandstorm.

“Do you think that’s why the aliens are down?” asked Sam. “The thing with electronics, I mean. They kind of had this biotech look going on. Like, maybe they were all cyborgs.”

“Maybe,” said Clint. “My hearing aid is working, though.” He pointed at his opposite ear, the one he didn’t have the Fenton Phone in.

“Huh,” said Jack. “Cool! But that’s small and non-ghostly, so there could be a few different factors there! Good news for people with pacemakers, though!”

Yeah. Clint didn’t even want to think about that. Better for electronics to get knocked out than for a nuke to actually hit, but as someone who did rely on small electronics for a disability, however small, thinking about how many people might have died just from that made him feel vaguely nauseated.

Not that imagining the number of outright deaths from the invasion was any better.

“Anywho!” said Jack. “We’re on our way up to ol’ Stark Tower! Got the Ops Center all locked up, so no spooks or ETs can get in!”

“Is that safe?” asked Clint. “The bomb was right there,” he clarified. The aliens and structural damage wasn’t something really avoidable under the present circumstances.

“We’ve got a Geiger counter!” said Jack, waving a box.

“It’s not on right now,” added Maddie. “It was getting annoying.”

“Mom,” said Jasmine, “seriously? What good is it if it isn’t on?”

“Well, it isn’t as if the number is going to change all that much while we’re in this building. It will make more sense to turn it on once we’re on street level and it actually matters.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” said Clint. “It was going off? As in, we’re getting irradiated right now?”

“Everyone is getting irradiated all the time,” said Jazz. “But that does sound like it’s more than usual.”

“It’s negligible,” said Maddie. “Considering. About what you’d expect from a commercial flight per hour.”

“Eh,” said Jack.

“Eh?” repeated Clint. That didn’t fill him with a huge amount of confidence.

“Come on,” said Sam, “astronauts get twenty times more than that and keep it up for days.”

“How do you know that?” asked Clint. “Just off the top of your head like that?”

“Benefit of being friends with Danny,” she said, walking past him.

“And to be honest,” said Maddie, “if you were near the Tesseract, you were probably experiencing astronaut levels of radiation.”

Clint sighed. “I knew that,” he said. “I was there when you talked to Dr. Selvig about it before Loki stole it.”

“Huh! I don’t remember you being there at all!”

Which was sort of the point.

“Are you coming with us or not, arrow boy?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming, I’m coming.” He had to check on Natasha, after all… and all the other idiots… and he still felt guilty over what had happened with Danny. Yeah. He was coming.

Bruce hated waking up in piles of rubble with no clothing. However, this particular rude wake up call was… not so bad. The city was, at least, still standing, and it looked like the aliens were all dead.

He got up and started walking towards Stark Tower.

In the end, it was Thor who found them first, launching up over the edge of the building and landing heavily. He was followed closely by a ghost Loki couldn’t name.

“Brother!” shouted Thor. He stopped several yards away. “Are you… well?”

“Well enough,” said Loki, not bothering to stand or even raise an arm in greeting. He was exhausted. And Thor was annoying to deal with.

“Whelp,” said the ghost.

“Skulker,” said Danny.

There was a history, there, Loki could tell. But he had neither the energy nor the will to delve into it.

“Was it mind control, then? Was it always?”

Loki laughed. “When I lured those jotnar into Asgard, you mean? When I sent the Destroyer after you?” He had encountered Thanos before, but he hadn’t been caught, then, hadn’t been changed or reshaped… or so he’d thought. “Who knows?” he settled on, finally.

“What are you going to do?” asked Danny. “You said something about bringing him back. What would happen then?”

“I would face justice for my crimes,” said Loki, interrupting whatever Thor was about to say. He said it better, anyway, and with the appropriate amount of sarcasm.

“You kind of did commit a lot of those,” observed Danny. Then he shrugged. “But, again, mind control. Kind of an ‘either both of us are guilty or neither of us is’ kind of deal.”

“You aren’t Asgardian,” said Thor, nonplussed.

“So?”

Thor shook his head and turned back to Loki. “Father would understand if we ex—”

“Because he’s so willing to listen to explanations, is he? He did not listen even to you.” He tilted his head back and let out the breath he’d taken in to yell at his brother some more. “It doesn’t matter. It’s over. It’s all over. Take me back, kill me, leave me to rot in some human prison, I don’t care.”

“Brother—”

Danny cleared his throat. “This is great and all, but no one else has woken up, and they definitely need some medical attention, so if one of you can get, like, a doctor or something… I would, but this week has been really tiring and all the sleep I’ve gotten is, like, ten seconds of unconscious.”

“You were unconscious for longer than that,” said Loki.

“Thanks, I didn’t ask.”

The ghost groaned. “Fine,” he said. “But next time, whelp, it’ll be your skin.”

“He says that every time.”

“Loki, if you would say something to defend yourself,” said Thor, “I would listen.”

“He totally was mind controlled,” said Danny. “I’m, like, a mind-control connoisseur, so I’d know.”

“On this planet?” asked Thor, with just a touch of skepticism. “With its technology?”

“It was ghost stuff,” said Danny. “Overshadowing, you know? But other stuff, too, like mind-vines and dream-helmets and body-swapping. I hate body-swapping, it’s the worst. Well, except for the emotion vampirism stuff. The main time I got mind controlled before this, it was a staff, too, though!”

“That one?” asked Loki, tilting his head towards the staff ‘Duulaman’ had carried.

“Nope. Completely different staff. I broke that one ages ago.”

“Oh, god,” groaned Selvig, having apparently dragged himself out of unconsciousness just in time to hear, “there’s another one?”

“Danny! Baby, you’re alive!”

“Uh,” Danny said, having startled halfway out of Frostbite’s grip. “Yep. I’m alive. As much as always.” He settled back down as his family and friends – and Barton, who Danny decided to count as more of a coworker – emerged from Stark’s penthouse. “Did you guys walk all the way from over there?” He nodded in the general direction he’d last seen the Ops Center in.

“We took the stairs, too,” said Sam, sidling up behind Maddie and Jack, who were barely restraining themselves from throwing themselves at Danny due to Frostbite radiating severe disapproval. “Since the elevators are all out, and did you know all the glass is gone where the sandstorm was? Like, everywhere. Even car windows and cell phones.

“Don’t remind me,” groaned Tucker, who was being checked over by not one but two yetis wearing medic symbols.

“What happened to you, anyway?” asked Sam.

“It’s, uh—The thing. With Duulaman. The thing that—You guys tell her.”

“He’s experiencing dissonance between his current life and his past life!” said one of the yeti doctors. “It is not terribly uncommon among persons who have reincarnated.”

“I hate this so much. I hate being alive.”

“No, you don’t,” said Danny.

“Ugh. My thoughts are ugh.”

“He’s fine,” said Danny. “Really.”

“Mhm,” said Jazz, who had a strong ‘I’m resisting the urge to psychoanalyze’ expression on her face. “And what about this guy?”

“I do have a name,” said Loki, from where he was still slumped against the former Tesseract housing.

“Mind control rule,” said Danny.

“This happens often enough you have a rule for it?” asked Selvig. Ever since he woke up, he’d been asking questions like that in a progressively more horrified tone. Danny thought he might need therapy, honestly.

“Well, yeah,” said Danny. “Hello? Any ghost here could overshadow you.”

“Not to mention guys like Undergrowth or Ember,” added Sam.

“Ooh, yeah, I forgot about the music-based mind control, earlier, thanks.

Jazz sighed. “The rule is just that you can’t hold a grudge for things people do under mind control.”

“What!” said Barton. “Then what do you keep calling me arrow boy for?”

“Oh,” said Jazz, breezily, “that’s for being involved in outing my brother to our parents.”

“Although,” said Maddie, “we really should have known beforehand. And who are you?”

This last was directed at Frostbite, and Danny sighed. He sighed again when he noticed the distinct shape of Pandora getting closer. “Okay, I guess I should do introductions.”

Tony (he insisted that they all call him Tony, something about life threatening situations) put down the tool he was using on the Iron Man helmet in his lap (not one he’d been using before, but one that had been sitting a back room in the penthouse) clapped his hands together. “Okay, looks like we’re all here and all introduced! Question is, what do we do with that stuff, and what do we do with him?” He gestured at the scepters in Danny’s lap, the Tesseract (still lying on the ground – Captain America had freaked when Black Widow went to pick it up), and Loki. “Especially since SHIELD turned out to be run by Nazis—”

Danny jerked and almost dropped the scepters. “It’s what?”

“That’s an exaggeration,” said Black Widow.

“Fine, fine, it’s riddled with Nazis—”

“Why are there Nazis? Aren’t they anti-Nazi?”

“They are,” said Black Widow, “but—”

“Oh my gosh,” said Sam. “You can’t call a place full of Nazis anti-Nazi. It just isn’t true. Maybe they were supposed to be, but they aren’t anymore. Get over it. Also, they’re the ones who shot that nuke at us.”

“Uh,” said Danny. “Then why are we okay with, like, that?” he pointed at the hovering shape of the SHIELD helicarrier.

Tucker cleared his throat. “They aren’t all Nazis. I think.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It’s my understanding,” said Jazz loudly, “that SHIELD was infiltrated by HYDRA shortly after World War Two ended. It’s currently unclear how many people in SHIELD are actually in HYDRA, pretending to be SHIELD.”

“But it’s a lot!” said Tucker. “A whole lot! And the GIW are in on it!”

“Oh, jeez,” said Danny. “No wonder you didn’t follow that part of my plan.” He ran his hands through his hair. “I was going to suggest that we dump it all on them, but yikes. Yikes.”

“Thor,” said Captain America, “I got the impression earlier that your people were familiar with this kind of… thing?”

“Yes,” said Thor. “Certain principles of its operation are not dissimilar to that of the Bifrost.”

“You wouldn’t mind taking it with you?”

“Not at all!”

“Great,” he said, sitting down for the first time since he’d gotten to the roof. “Because I’d really like to get that thing off my planet.”

“Wow,” said Tony, “that sounds personal. Is it personal? Not just, you know, professional?”

“Stark.”

“Okay, okay, I’m backing off. I’ll, uh, whip up something to carry that in, then? I don’t suppose you know any of those principles of operation, huh, Thor? Buddy?”

“It is not my, ah, area of expertise, but I will certainly do my best to assist.”

“I’ll need your help, too, Bruce.”

“Sure,” said Dr. Banner. “Can’t be too hard, if they managed it in the forties.”

“Fentons?”

“At this point,” said Mom, “I think our time might be better spent dealing with the ectoradiation. No, ah, offense.”

“None taken,” said Frostbite, kindly.

“Frostbite can take my staff,” said Tucker.

“Are you sure?” asked Danny. “You did some really cool stuff with it before, you know. The pyramids, and the sphinx, and the lightning thing—”

“I think that was me, actually,” said Thor, raising a finger.

“I mean, you probably contributed,” allowed Danny, cheerfully.

“Maybe the things were cool, but I can’t handle that. Thing. I can’t be trusted with it. I went full megalomaniac. I was going to conquer New York. The whole east coast. America. The world. Egypt. Especially Egypt. So, I want that power far, far away from me and my poor decision-making skills.”

“You realize,” said Loki, “that power is part of you?”

Tucker sat up, despite the protests of his doctors. “What?”

“Perhaps the skill with which you wielded it belonged to your past life, and the magnitude of it to the staff, but nothing Duulaman accomplished is beyond your ability to learn. It would be unimaginable, in fact, that you had not already begun to learn, simply from your experiences these past days.”

“Aw, man,” said Tucker, face crumpled into something complicated. “Frostbite, you’ll still take it, right?”

“Of course! We’ll keep it safe for you, as we do with all the artifacts we defend.”

“Then… Pandora, will you take this other staff? I feel like it’s more up your alley.”

“Uh,” said Tony. “One second. I kind of feel like we should keep at least one superpowerful space weapon on Earth. Just saying.”

Danny made a face at him. “And you want to keep the mind control one? The most easily abused?”

“Well,” said Loki, “I wouldn’t say it was easy to—”

“Hush, you,” said Pandora. “Stark. I have experience sealing away forces of evil. But even if I did not, there is no reason for a ghost to want that thing.”

“Why?”

“Because it doesn’t work on ghosts,” said Danny.

“It worked on you.”

“Yeah, when I was human. As soon as I went ghost, it couldn’t control me anymore.”

“And we have much more efficient ways of controlling people, I’m sorry to say,” said Pandora. “It would be safe, out of the hands of your enemy, and it would not be a temptation.”

“Nuclear deterrents and mutually assured destruction aren’t really things that have worked,” muttered Dr. Banner.

Tony threw up his hands. “Fine! But the guy with the space army after us is still out there, the ‘protect the planet’ guys are secretly evil, and you guys aren’t sticking around, are you?” He waved at Pandora and Frostbite.

“No,” said Frostbite. “We do have our own people to look after. But I think you are not as bereft of resources as you believe.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Yes,” said Loki, suspiciously, “do enlighten us.”

“Maybe it means you’re supposed to keep the band together,” said Danny. “No Loki Ono.”

“Stop that.”

“I’d say make me but… You can’t!”

“Yeah, about that,” said Black Widow. “I’ll have my hands full with the HYDRA problem.”

“Same,” said Barton. “We’re not leaving Fury to deal with that.”

“What, do you think I don’t care about the HYDRA problem?”

“I think you care mostly about yourself, but sure.”

“Hey,” said Tucker, “he did put himself between me and an exploding shield thingy, so…”

“Okay,” muttered Danny to himself. “Clearly, this band doesn’t need to be broken up.”

“Does that really surprise you?” asked Sam.

“No, not really.”

The Iron Man helmet made a loud blaaaaaaat noise, followed by an awful lot of static. “-ark, Rogers, Banner, Foley, Manson, Fentons, do any of you read this?” said… Danny frowned, trying to remember her name. “Repeat: Barton, Romanov—”

“Hey, Agent Hill!” said Tony. “Just got a radio up and running after you guys sent us that wonderful gift. You know, the one that was going to kill us all. Anyway, how are you? Old one-eye and Agent Coulson doing alright with the whole situation?”

“Coulson is dead.”

“What?” said Tony. “He’s—How?”

“He was killed by HYDRA agents while trying to keep the plane with the missile from taking off.”

“Oh,” said Tony, blankly. “He—Oh.”

“What we found with Foley’s backdoor is this: Every level of SHIELD is compromised. Everything that SHIELD touches is compromised. We’re handling things here on the helicarrier, but it’s going to be a different story everywhere else.”

“What can we do to help?” asked Captain America.

“Get the situation in the city under control and go to ground if you can. That’s not going to work for Stark, but the rest of you—”

“It isn’t going to work for us, either,” interrupted Danny. “I can’t leave Amity Park undefended.”

“Then you’ll have to make your own decisions. Don’t try to contact anyone from SHIELD, and if anyone from SHIELD contacts you, be cautious. Don’t blindly trust it if Fury or I contact you, for that matter. We have technologies under development that make the Mission Impossible masks look tame. Barton, Romanov, consider any safehouses or contacts known to SHIELD to be burned.”

“Roger that,” said Black Widow.

“That’s… expected,” said Barton. “If not great.”

“We’ll try to send updates through Stark, if he stays in public view, but we can’t make any guarantees. Fury says, ‘Don’t die, and… good work, Avengers.’”

The connection dissolved back into static.

“Okay!” said Stark, rubbing his eyes not-at-all subtly. “Looks like you’re all getting new identities for Christmas.” He looked at Sam. “Hanukkah?”

“My family doesn’t really do presents. And I’m not running.”

“Wait,” said Valerie. “You can do that?”

“Sure. I’m rich. I can do whatever I want. Mostly.” This declaration was accompanied by more unsubtle eye-rubbing.

“And HYDRA isn’t a joke,” said Black Widow. “Torture, murder, human experimentation. It’s all on the table, if they catch you.”

“If they catch me,” said Sam. “Trust me, once we’re all back in Amity Park, we’ll have one hell of a home field advantage. And I think Coulson was the only one besides you guys and Fury who knew Valerie even existed.”

“That’s accurate,” said Valerie. “I think.”

“Mom, Dad?” said Jazz. “What do you think? You’ve been quiet.”

“We can’t leave the portal,” said Mom, after a moment. “The rest of our research we could move.” Her eyes tracked over to the rooftop the Ops Center sat on. “But not the portal.”

Danny relaxed a little more. Obviously, he could deal with being hunted by evil superspies (see: the past week) even without access to his full powerset. Coping with his parents trying to put them in DIY witness protection would be significantly harder.

“Okay. New identities for, like, half of us. And I have tons of properties through shell—”

“SHIELD knows about those,” said Black Widow.

“Aren’t you cheerful. Anyway, any requests about names? Backstories? You don’t want to give me too much creative control, I’ll turn you into a traveling circus or something. Wouldn’t be able to resist.”

“I wouldn’t mind being back in the circus,” said Barton.

“Didn’t they kick you out for shooting someone?” asked Black Widow.

“Yes, they did.”

“Hey, uh,” said Dr. Banner, “I hate to be the one to say this, but aren’t we forgetting someone?” He pointed awkwardly at Loki.

Tony shrugged. “Isn’t he just going back with Thor?”

“No,” said Thor.

“No?” repeated Loki, incredulous. “What do you mean no?”

“I’d like to know the reasoning behind that as well,” said Black Widow. “We can’t trust any governments here to hold him with HYDRA’s involvement.”

“And why should he be held at all?”

“What,” said Loki, flatly.

“Have we not determined that he is innocent, at least in this matter? That he was put under a geas, just as Phantom was? That he even fought it, as Phantom did? And we have agreed, most emphatically, that Phantom is innocent.”

“I—” started Loki, half-smiling. “You—” The expression slid into something closer to bewilderment. “You cannot be serious, brother. Did Odin not send you here to drag me back to Asgard like a recalcitrant child?”

“He did,” said Thor, “and yet… What you said about Father and… listening… is not untrue. He was wroth, when I left, and only Mother’s words stayed his temper.”

Captain America let out a sigh. “I guess we’re the closest thing to a jury he’s likely to get. Danny, are you sure he was mind controlled?”

“As sure as I can get without overshadowing him myself and poking around,” said Danny, shrugging. “Do you want me to--?”

“No.”

“If I may offer my medical opinion,” said Frostbite, “I would concur with the Great One’s thoughts. Mister Loki does exhibit many of the symptoms expected of victims of prolonged control.”

Loki pushed himself up. “What are you doing? What about justice? What about punishment and vengeance?”

Danny squinted at him. “Do you, like, want to get punished, or…?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Loki, wobbling as he looked down his nose at Danny. “A child like you wouldn’t understand.”

“So, we’re agreed then? We’re just going to let him loose to go do… whatever?” Tony didn’t seem particularly pleased about that, but then, this wasn’t a particularly pleasant situation.

“Tips on the guy with the space army might be appreciated,” said Barton. “Just a thought.”

“Or, ooh!” said Danny. “You could come back to Amity Park with us and teach Tucker magic.” He waggled his fingers.

“Absolutely not,” said Loki. “I am leaving.” He turned to walk away and immediately tripped over the Tesseract.

“Maybe you should wait until you’re not drunk to do that,” suggested Danny.

“I really need to make a container for that,” said Tony, standing up and disappearing into the penthouse. “And don’t go until I can get you a phone or something! I need to pick your brain about aliens!”

“Oh, yeah,” said Danny. “You guys definitely owe me facts about aliens. I can’t believe I was abducted by an alien and got, like, zero space facts out of it. That’s criminal.”

“It kind of is,” agreed Sam.

“If that’s criminal,” said Valerie, “what about my ghost facts? Like, you know, the fact that you’re a ghost.”

“It is something we’d like clarification on, too, sweetie,” said Maddie.

“Ah,” said Danny. He wondered if he could escape this conversation by phasing through the roof. Maybe he’d even be nice and take Loki with him.

“I think I’ve been pretty understanding,” continued Valerie, “putting off my questions, but if you’re all going to go on a tangent about space, well, I think my questions are pretty important, too! Especially since it looks like I’m not going to get paid for this after all!”

Tony wandered back out onto the roof. “So, I was going to offer you guys a drink, but, shockingly, alcohol is generally stored in glass, so I was thinking, once the doctors get everyone patched up, we could go out for-- Why do I suddenly feel like I walked in on the season finale of a soap opera?”

“Danny and Valerie used to date,” explained Jazz.

“She’s also worried about not getting paid,” added Sam, rolling her eyes.

“Hey, people have to live,” said Tucker. “Not everyone can be rich.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Tony. “Of course you’re getting paid. I’ll pay you. It’s like, volunteer firefighters get paid, right? But I’m way cooler than the government, so you’ll actually get a living wage. Also, is he just going to keep lying on the floor like that, or what?”

“I believe he may have fallen asleep,” said Thor, bemused.

Danny leaned forward to get a better look. That wasn’t a terrible conclusion, but… Danny could see the slight shimmer around the edges that gave away an illusion. It was kind of a jerk move on Loki’s part, but Danny couldn’t scrounge up the energy to blame him.

Should he say something?

Nah. But it did give him an idea.

“Well,” said Danny, laughing a little, “neither of us have slept for days. Did I mention that before? Speaking of which… maybe I’ll take a nap, too…” He leaned back and closed his eyes.

The anti-nap protest was hilarious, but he didn’t hear much of it. He was too busy napping.

“So, where do you think Loki is?” asked Valerie as they finally drove back into Amity Park.

It had taken a while to get the Ops Center off that roof, even with the help of superpowers, and longer still to get a hold of a semi-truck that could haul it back home, even with the help of Tony Stark’s wallet. The less said about wannabe supervillain road pirates and attempted assassinations at rest stops the better.

The first few days on the road, the conversation had been firmly of the ‘interrogating Danny’ variety, with short digressions into ‘interrogating Jazz,’ ‘interrogating Sam,’ and ‘interrogating Tucker.’ But there were only so many things to say before they got to stuff they really, really didn’t want to talk about while trapped with each other in a mobile metal box hundreds of miles from home. After reaching that point, there had been a brief period of ‘interrogating Valerie,’ but that didn’t go over very well, so the rest of the time had been spent speculating about the evil space army that was possibly coming for Earth (depressing), and what Loki was doing (slightly less depressing).

“Defrauding Las Vegas,” said Danny, without hesitation. He didn’t think that’s what he’d actually be doing, but it was definitely the funniest possible option.

“Does he even know what Las Vegas is?�� asked Tucker, curiously. “I mean, he’s only been on Earth for, what, a week and a half, and you guys spent a bunch of that time in Europe, right?”

Danny shrugged, not taking his eyes off the window, drinking in the sight of his haunt. “I’m sure he’ll figure it out.”

“Tony, what are you doing?” asked Pepper, walking up behind him and setting a glass of wine down on the table next to him. Well. ‘Glass.’ Glass goods were at a bit of a premium in New York at the moment, and Tony’s main wealth flex after supplying Barton, Natasha, Steve, and Bruce with new IDs had been getting the Amity Parkers on their way back home. The wine itself was from a box.

“Redesigning a few floors,” said Tony. “If we’re keeping the band together, we need a place to hang out, record, you know the drill.”

“I thought you hated the boy band metaphor.”

Tony shrugged. “It’s grown on me. Should I put all the kids on one floor, or should I separate them out?”

“I thought you hated that they were involved,” said Pepper, raising her eyebrows.

“I do,” said Tony, “But do you think I can stop them? I can’t even stop me.”

“Here, let me see.” She scanned the blueprint, then frowned. “Is that a floor for Loki?”

“Kind of figure the guy might show back up, once he’s done defrauding Las Vegas or whatever.”

“Defrauding Las Vegas, really?”

“Hey, it’s what I’d do,” said Tony. “Minus, you know, the fraud part. Counting cards is an art.”

Pepper laughed and kissed him on the cheek. “Well, if you’re going to put Clint here, can I suggest…?”

“I hate to say it,” said Steve, casually concussing another HYDRA agent, “but I don’t think I’m really cut out for covert operations.”

“No, no,” said Natasha, “you’re doing great.”

“Yeah!” said Clint, nocking another arrow. “You’re perfect bait! All of these guys hate you so much, it’s funny.”

Fury, who was also on comms, if not on location, sighed. His agents didn’t use to be so talkative during missions. He blamed this on Stark.

As a point in fact, Loki did not know what Las Vegas was, and he wasn’t there, defrauding it or otherwise.

He was in the kitchen of the apartment Tony had bought for Bruce, going through his refrigerator.

“What,” said Bruce, willing the green tint out of his skin, “are you doing here?”

“As your friends so kindly pointed out to me, I am a free man. I go where I will.”

“Yeah, freedom generally doesn’t include breaking and entering.”

“More’s the pity.” He closed the refrigerator and leaned against the counter. His eyes were sharp. “I looked into you, you know. I meant to use you as a weapon, a way to peel apart your allies. To turn your other nature against yourself.”

“That’s… nice,” said Bruce, tensing just a little.

“How do you keep it at bay? All that… anger?”

“What do you care?”

Loki looked away. “My grip on Danny’s mind was the thing of a moment. When it broke, it broke cleanly.” His fingers traced over the handles in Bruce’s knife block before coming to rest flat against the countertop again. “The same cannot be said for me.”

Bruce realized, then, what Loki was asking him. “Oh boy. Yeah. Let’s head over to the living room. We can talk.”

Loki was not, and never had been, a good man.

He wasn’t doing this because he cared, or because he felt guilty. The purpose of his visit here was only to satisfy his curiosity. To, perhaps, explore the secrets of this world as he had once explored those of Asgard. That was all.

After all, he had no duty to Danny Fenton, nor any particular affection. They’d only known each other for a few short days, and it had been months since then. So, it gave him no comfort, no ease, to see him walking down the street, smiling. It was no thrill, to see him pause, turn, and smile at Loki, despite the disguise he wore.

Loki had never been a particularly honest man, either.

But what was life, without its little lies?

The end. :3

Did I resolve everything? No. Did I *want* to resolve everything? Also no. As maligned as it sometimes is, the MCU is big, and I only set out to cover events of the first Avengers movie, not all the way through to Endgame. Although, hopefully, I've given you enough to imagine what might happen, if I did.

Thank you for reading!

#danny phantom #dp/mcu #dp/marvel #life's great lie

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animusbell · 1 year

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Paranatural masterpost re:

The Sphinxes

Sphinxes 1-3

We have 3 explicitly confirmed sphinxes: the Sphinx of Rules/Games, the Sphinx of Truth, and the unnamed Golden Sphinx. All 3 have passive powers that work whether they want it or not, on themselves as well as others.

Of the two we know the powers of, both are related to words: for Rules, written or spoken rules become reality. For Truth, all words spoken in her presence become the truth, and although the wording can be misleading, this can even predict the future. Golden's powers interfere with (at least) Truth's powers.

Sphinx #4: The BERG

The fandom-named "Broken Evil Riddle God," the spirit that Max is a medium for, is likely a Sphinx! First of all, its namesake, Doorman's dialogue with it, refers to its powers as "riddles and word games," which is in theme with the other known Sphinxes.

Secondly, both Max's spirit trance and dreamscape contain sphinx-related imagery alongside Scrapdragon's theming. His spirit trance has distant pyramids. The dreamscape around him features, as this post points out, pyramid-shaped lights, magnet-like hieroglyphs, and a cat-eared sofa.

This may or may not be relevant, but keep it in mind for later: In addition to the purple furniture surrounding Max's dreamscape, Max features a purple aura around his black spectral energy on two occasions: Once, when being possessed by BERG to save his life, and once back in Chapter 3 --

starting when he doesn't have his bat in hand, but is trying to get it back. We know at this point he can't consciously control his spectral energy very well, but whether by instinct or by something else helping to shape it, it takes on the form of tendrils reaching for the bat.

Additionally, Doorman comes pretty close to probably saying the word "sphinxes" when discussing Max and Isaac:

The other boy, Max... I sensed he, too, was unaware that he carries one of the s-

"Wait a minute," I hear you say, "TOO"?!

Sphinx #5: King Catnine

Like all other sphinxes we've seen, King Catnine appears in a catlike form, with small wings which are usually wrapped around the front of his waist. (They are present in this flashback too, but obscured in the above image.)

Interestingly, his back legs appear to be shaped spectral energy, and he may only be able to form them when at full power like this. Though we do see the Sphinx of Truth make a similar manifestation, using spectral energy to extend her body parts:

"But what do storm powers have to do with words/riddles" I dunno yet! Moving on--

The Great Sphinx

There has been reference to a "Great Sphinx" which was split into pieces. As this post notes, Doorman brings up wights, plural, in the same paragraph -- as if he means that was one of the "defeated" wights.

And we know that destroying a wight is both nigh-impossible and incredibly dangerous... but perhaps breaking one into pieces is a safer option?

King Catnine is seeking the power of a Wight. (Seeking to return to their former glory?) Notably, Wights are the exclusive keepers of White spectral energy, which functions like "each color simultaneously." In real life, white light is a combination of all other light colors.

As this post points out, most of the sphinxes so far have spectral energy colors matching with one of the primary (red/blue/green) or secondary (yellow/cyan/magenta) colors of light. And as this reminded me, Doorman refers to Truth as "the blue one."

Maybe the BERG has black energy like Max, or it's even colorless.

But if you're willing to stretch a little, remember the purple associations with the BERG? It might fill in that magenta slot...

Meaning we're only missing green.

#alternately theres 7 and max just has the 7th (black) one and they still combine to white. one of those!#paranatural #paranatural theory #paranatural theories #wights #sphinxes #this goes in the tags bc it's a half formed thought but like... something about ed's parents disappearing due to a wight-related incident #and him already being a spectral as a baby -- probably due to exposure -- but specifically a GREEN spectral?#i dont think ed's a medium like max or isaac but it would be really interesting if it was related #mine

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malicedragoness · 2 months

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Titan Cori - Goddess of Luck

So here’s Cori’s template as an MK Titan!

If you would like to use this template, I created it and I have the blank one here.

Title: Lady Cori Goddess of Luck

Motto: “Fortune favors the bold.”

Powers: Pain Transference - Cori still has her healing power of taking away another’s wounds and transferring the pain unto herself. Only now it doesn’t affect her as much. Geras advises her to not use or share that she has this power.

Lady Luck - Cori grants a lucky token to anyone she deems worthy enough of this gift. This token brings the user a stroke of luck. Whether a thief needed a quick getaway from the guards. A gambler hoping for a lucky roll of the dice. Or a soldier praying not to get hit by a hundred archers. They hold the token in their hand and call on Lady Luck to answer their call. She awards these tokens to the winners of the Kombat Tournaments.

Spectral Shadows - Cori can summon corporeal shadows to use as she wishes. Whether to fight with them, use them as a throne and float around, or to shroud her body. Most of the time they take the shape of orbs or tendrils, unless she has a specific shape in mind.

Open for me - She can open any lock by simply touching it. Nothing special, she’s just a thief at heart.

Silent footsteps - As any good thief, she’s good at sneaking around and being quiet. Her boots are enchanted to be completely silent when she wants.

Realm they favor: Cori tends to spend most of her time in Seido to be with Havik. She does travel to Outworld and Edenia from time to time to visit Stella and Taven.

Places of worship: There are three shrines dedicated to her. One in Edenia within the Palace Courtyard, one in her home country of Vecilio, and one in Seido. Her shrines are fountains with her likeness carved out of marble. Most people pray/worship by tossing coins into the fountain, praying for Lady Luck.

Consort: Havik. The Havik in Cori’s timeline is the ‘Hero Havik’ you play to beat the game. “Chaos has blessed me.”

When she rebuilt the universe, she kept a close eye on Havik, not wanting him to suffer as he did in their timeline. Seido and Orderrealm are different realms. Seido is where anarchists and misfits live, chaos blessing their lives in quite an unexpected way.

Geras warned her that it may not be a good idea to interact or interfere with Havik’s new life. She would only smirk at him, “I’ve never been one to follow the rules, Geras. I’m better at breaking them and chancing my luck.”

Havik has seen Cori when she visits Seido, often following her just to get a glimpse. He heard about the mysterious Goddess of Luck and her magical tokens, and had to see her for himself.

When he competed in the Kombat Tournament, he would try to get her attention. With his outrageous fighting style, to standing in front of her throne to catch her gaze, to pulling out his heart and handing it to her. He wanted to make sure she noticed him.

When Havik won the tournament, he refused the Lady Luck token and simply asked for her instead. Cori smiled coyly, “You seem to enjoy pushing your luck.”

Havik chuckled. “Fortune favors the bold.”

Changes in Physical appearance: Cori has longer, shinier hair. Her green eyes are more vibrant and glowing.

Armor/Style of clothing: I imagine her armor to look like this, but instead of those pauldrons she has a hooded cloak.

Weapons: Her trusty bow Heartbreaker. Two daggers she keeps hidden on her person.

How does Geras help them/regard them:

Geras can tell she has a compassionate heart and wants to try and create the most peaceful timeline she can. He has to remind her that nothing is perfect. There will be mistakes and she can’t fix everything. He is her trusted confidant, and watches the Hourglass in her stead.

Since she has to give up being in her family, she tends to treat him like a brother. She grew up with seven older brothers, it feels strange to not have one. Geras doesn’t know how it feels to be in a familial bond. However, with the time they spend together, he begins to understand the significance of family. And when Cori pranks him he doesn’t dissuade her antics, but he doesn’t encourage them either.

His armor is now made of leather more suitable for stealth than combat.

Any characters or events that have drastically changed that you would like to mention?:

Cori’s mother, Cordelia, is alive because she didn’t have to give birth to her. Her family isn’t poor and they are prospering.

Her brother Atten knows druid magic instead of illusion spells and combat magic.

King Jerrod is alive. Mileena and Kitana are twin sisters.

Tarkatans are a race of people who have tribes, like the orcs in Skyrim. Tanya is a tarkatan who leads one of the biggest tribes, and Mileena has fallen in love with her.

Taven and Stella have children and rule Edenia. Orin is the guardian of their palace. Daegon is the general of Taven’s army.

The Kombat tournament is held once a generation, where the winner is granted a Lady Luck token from Lady Cori. Havik has won this tournament on behalf of Seido, and fell in love with Cori. The one competitor that has won the most tournaments is Reiko.

Reiko is the general of King Jerrod’s army. His parents are alive and are proud of their son.

The Vaeternus people are still vulnerable to sunlight. Cori has granted them to be able to fly during the daylight in their bat form. Even then, their bat form can only handle it for so long.

Ashrah is an angel that oversees Netherrealm, and ensures nothing leaves the realm and nothing goes into the realm without her knowledge.

Cori feels out of place in Earthrealm, so she pulls Liu Kang from the timeline to help her shape Earthrealm. If Cori, Liu, and Geras put their heads together, then maybe this timeline will succeed.

Backstory/Notes/Tidbits: Titan Havik’s timeline is where Cori died in his world and couldn’t come back to life. Everytime he reset the timeline, she kept dying in a different way. Geras informed him that no matter how many times he changes and shapes the universe, the chaos in his heart will always affect the outcome.

Havik desperately kept trying, but ultimately gave up when his heart couldn’t handle seeing her die anymore. When he watched her die for the last time, so did any shred of humanity he had left. He becomes a monster that wants nothing but carnage.

#MK OC: Cori Graye #MK OC #MK OC x character #Cori Graye x havik #OC x havik #Titan Cori #Cori Graye

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wellthebardsdead · 9 months

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Clockwork heart pt19

Part 18 here

———

Wyrm: *frozen in place staring at the strange mages raising their hands seemingly to attack him, only for time to halt and a barrier forming around him to keep him from fleeing* h-huh? *places his hand on it feeling magicka made solid tingling against his fingers* L-let me out!! *screams and hits it, immediately tearing up and panicking as they surround him*

???: This is the one from Saarthal then Nerien?

Nerien: Yes Tandil, Quaranir had the same experience in Kynesgrove. It seems at a distance he was able to somehow block us out.

Quaranir: As I explained to Gelebros *reaches through the barrier grabbing Wyrms face only serving to frighten him even more* He’s showing no signs of the artefact. *turns his head this way and that easily ignoring his feeble attempts to stop him by pushing away*

Wyrm: let me go! D-don’t touch me! Don’t touch me!!! *screams as he starts smoking and crackling like firewood before combusting into flames burning the high elfs hand*

Tandil: *unphased watching his fellow mage shove his hand into the snow while screaming in pain* No but he’s clearly showing signs of distress, we put that barrier up for a reason you nitwit.

Gelebros: *sighs* no matter, let’s get him back to the isle and see if we can extract it from him. We’ll need to capture the augur of Dunlain some other wa- hm? *blinks as a speck of what he first thinks is snow falls in front of his face* What? *looks around to see the city still frozen in time, and among the suspended snowflakes, flecks of ash falling from the sky, first barely noticeable, but soon swirling like a torrent moving without wind* What’s happen- *staggers back as the fallen ash mixes with the snow and begins to form grotesque twisted dunmer like figures, all of them groaning and screeching as they rise up to their feet and reach for them*

???: You. Will. Not. Interfere.

Nerien: wh-who said that- *looks at the barrier to see fire still swirling inside of it mixing with the terrified screaming of Wyrm as he throws himself against it trying to get free*

???: He’s been through too much. I. Won’t. Let. You. Live.

Quaranir: what- *doesn’t even get a chance to comprehend what he heard as he looks at the barrier to see the flames suddenly stop, Wyrm left standing there slack jawed and body limp as if being hung from his neck, only for a spectral form to fly from his feeble frame, smashing the barrier to pieces like glass and sending the psijic monk flying across the snow, slamming into the stone pillars that mark the bridge to the collage*

Gelebros: *staggers back as the spectral form separates into several idental copies, swirling around Wyrms body as he rises up from the snow, floating weightless in the air like the frost surrounding him as if he were a whisp mother* Wh-whats happening?! Who are you?!

Wyrm: *body slack and suspended in the air, eyes lifeless and dull as the ghostly clones of himself spin faster and faster before halting in place, then bursting into fractals of light, stabbing into him like shards of glass making him snap his neck and blink open his glowing eyes* I… *cranes his neck to the side staring down at him as markings resembling the soul of lorkhan, ‘the eye of Magnus’, swirl up his dark grey skin* Am. Sotha Sil.

*meanwhile*

Taliesin: *blinks as time suddenly resumes again, only to see where Wyrm was ahead of him just a second ago now devoid of any life* Where- where’s he- WYRM!

Nerevar: I’m sure he’s at the village already it’s not that far- Voryn?! *grabs his husband tight as the other chimer suddenly seizes in his arms*

Voryn: *eyes rolling back as he grips his chest* He’s in danger- he’s screaming- he’s afraid- h-he- *goes limp for a moment before arching his back like hes possessed* H̶̳̹̀͠e̷͚̩̾͠ ̵̠͑͌i̸̫͝s̴̱͂̈́ ̴̰̊̓h̵͓̘͆é̷̩ŕ̶̲e̸͚̰̚.̸͑̕͜

Nerevar: Who i-

*BOOM!!!*

Kaidan: *holding his horse steady as she rears up from the blast, the blizzards cold winds suddenly breezing past them with the aftershock of something powerful* WHOT IN THE FRESH FOCK WAS THAT?!

Taliesin: *cuts the rope from his horse and gallops past him towards winterhold* LOOK AFTER THE OTHERS!! *clings to Naomi’s saddle trying to keep his head low and face shielded from the icy winds as he charges through the frigid plains and to the village, only to see Wyrm floating up above the settlement, shards of a strange black and glowing metal swirling around him as his form shivers and changes as if time itself is warped around him* Little moth- *looks at the ground to see several Psijic monks bleeding heavily and struggling to get away from him as he raises his hand and readies another attack, his body glowing like white hot metal as energy gathers in his palm* WYRM STOP IT!!! *dismounts Naomi and hurries beneath him not understanding what’s happening but knowing this isn’t his sweet little moth* WYRM LISTEN TO ME!

Wyrm: *unable to hear him beyond the void surrounding him as his energy concentrates into a ball of blinding light, ready to obliterate everything in its way*

???: SON! STOP THIS!! WAKE UP!

Taliesin: *blinks and looks to the bridge to see an old orc wrapped in a blanket and struggling his way towards them, clearly very unwell even from a distance as he holds himself up with a cane* what-

Wyrm: pa…pa?… *looks down as the shards halt in mid air, his eyes resting on the old orc running to him* papa… *lowers his hand as the magic dissipates, and the shards close around him forming the orb before lowering him to the ground and disappearing, leaving his fragile body in the snow*

Taliesin: w-Wyrm? *steps forward but stays back as the old orc who he now assumes is Urag hurries to his side*

Wyrm: *sits up and blinks as he looks about to see the scene before him. The psijic monks all in varying stages of injury, the city guard and citizens all staring at him in horror as they slowly emerge from their cover, Taliesin standing there looking confused and concerned, and his very poorly father suddenly hugging him tight into his arms* p-papa?…

Urag: yes son! it’s me! I’m here! I’m here pup it’s okay now! Papas here papas got you! *coughs out a broken sob as he pulls him in tighter, not caring about the destruction around him just happy his baby is safe in his arms*

Wyrm: *blinks and tears up as he starts to cry, gripping onto urags robes as his body is wracked with hiccups and big, wailing sobs* P-Papa!!! *climbs into his lap and nuzzles into his robe, immense relief washing away the confusion and fear as joy overwhelms him, so happy to finally be home*

Taliesin: *sighs with relief before looking back to see the group arriving and dismounting their horses* He’s alright. Is voryn-

Nerevar: *dismounts his horse holding voryn tight* he’s- hes-

Voryn: *smiles up at him tiredly, blood leaking from his nose* he’s happy again… is he hurt?…

Nerevar: d-don’t worry about him right now he’s fine! are you alright?!

Voryn: *smiles and sighs as he closes his eyes* I’m fine, just cold… can we get out of this weather now?

Nerevar: *tears freezing to his face as he laughs back a sob* y-you. How can you be so calm after giving me a heart attack like that?

Voryn: *laughs and grimaces in pain* I think I was the one who had a heart attack. *opens his eyes in time to see the psijic monks all disappear in unison, leaving with their tails in between their legs* …That had better be the last we see of them…

#wyrm dragonborn #urag gro shub #voryn dagoth #nerevar #sotha sil #skyrim taliesin #Kaidan skyrim #inigo skyrim

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npcemi · 10 months

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The long road of how starting a fight with superman over clone parenting eventually lead to Danny Phantom become God Part 4: The final warning

https://archiveofourown.org/works/47818321/chapters/121415806

A month had passed since the clone support group's last meeting and this meeting was going even better than Dani had expected. They discussed so many things and then the group expressed trying to find and reach out to other clones. However, all the momentum stopped when Conner spoke up. "I... I have to be honest with all of you. Despite Danielle's dad talking to Superman, things didn't get better. If anything, they've gotten worse."

Linda, Jarro, and Danielle exchanged concerned glances, their brows furrowed in disbelief. Linda was the first to break the silence, her voice filled with concern. "What happened?”

Conner took a deep breath, his voice laced with frustration. "Superman told me that I shouldn't be dragging others into our personal business. He made it clear that he sees my actions as a threat to his reputation, and he even threatened me, warning me to stay away from him and his affairs."

Danielle's eyes narrowed, her fists clenching involuntarily. She had hoped that the man would get some sense. That he would learn his lesson and be better to her new friend. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one, judging by how the room’s temperature began dropping dramatically.

“Dad!”

Everyone stood silently as Danny dropped his invisibility. They all looked to see her father, he couldn’t have looked older than fourteen. They were all surprised, he had just been a kid when he died. Danielle told them, but it never really hit home until they looked at the man.

However, by looking at him they also knew he wasn’t just a kid. He exuded power. His bright glowing green eyes with endlessly black pupils. The way his salt and pepper hair floated and fluttered in a nonexistent breeze. His very presence unleashed a pressure that made it hard to breathe.

“I’ll take care of it,” Danny said his tone was flat and serious. It was nothing of the fun-loving nature that Danielle had spoken about.

“Dad, can I use the mirror?”

“Just use the Mortal filter,” Danny said before exiting through a portal.

“Mirror?” Conner asked.

“So we can watch Dad kick the crap out of Superman!” Dani grinned.

“Mortal filter?” Linda asked.

“Dad’s true spirit form, even in base, can be difficult to look at for those not accustomed to the supernatural.”

There was a collective “oh.” as Dani set up her 85-inch spectral mirror. Her dad really loved to spoil her.

At the daily planet Clark Kent, Lois Lane, Jimmy Olsen, Kara Danvers, Catherine Grant, and the rest of the staff were having their morning meeting when a voice sounded from Clark’s direction. They all looked to see a white-haired kid with green eyes.

“Hi, Clark!” Danny said with a grin with too many teeth to be human. He was resting his hand on Clark’s chest.

“You!” Clark said, recognizing the boy from the watchtower.

“Bye Clark!” Danny said with a cheery tone that belaid his anger. Danny gave the man a push sending him out the window falling from the building and leaving a crater in the street below.

Everyone stood in shock, Danny recognized the look on Kara's face, the tensing of her muscles.

“Do not interfere Kara Zor-El.” Danny threw kryptonite-based bolas at her at a faster-than-light speed. She was tied up tight and because they were laced with his ectoplasm they would only come off when he willed it.

They saw him disappear and reappear on the street walking towards Clark. Clark looked up to see Danny. Clark felt his clothes come off revealing his Superman outfit. He saw a bright ring encompass Danny’s form. What he saw hurt his eyes.

That thing, yes, there was no way it could be human, its body elongated. Danny’s legs no longer existed. He became like a lamia, He no longer was on the ground, the boy floated. His skin became a representation of the night sky, he sprouted hundreds of black and white wings covered in eyes. The shadows he cast had mouths with hundreds of rows of teeth that consumed anything that happened to fall in them. His hair was a pure white that floated above his head like a crown. His eyes glowed bright green with endlessly black pupils. Each finger had a ring on it. Each gem represented the Sun, Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, and Pluto. There was a volleyball-sized hole in Danny’s chest. Floating freely in that hole was a translucent black crystal with stars on the inside. The crystal was encased in a clear layer of ice. The crystal was surrounded by a spinning silver ornate metal crown that emanated blue fire.

“I warned you, the realms warned you Kal-El to treat the mirror born with respect, to treat your mirror-born son with respect. Now the realms will have their retribution.” Danny’s voice was layered with that feminine voice from earlier.

The Man of Steel was a man of action. He took the initiative and fired his laser eyes. They were blocked by an ecto shield. When that didn’t work he used his ice breath. Danny let loose a small whistle. It only lasted less than a second but the sonic force stopped Superman’s ice breath causing a wave of destruction causing the road to crack and nearby windows to shatter.

Danny appeared in front of Superman, uppercutting him in the gut and sending him flying into the sky. The man of steel didn’t even have a moment to reorient himself in the air. Danny appeared behind him and backhanded the man sending him crashing back to earth.

Superman decided to try his laser eyes again and put in every ounce of power he could and this time Danny didn’t block with a shield. Instead, Danny reached out his hand, and at the center of it was a black dot no bigger than a tip of a 36-Gauge needle. The dot sucked in the lasers, all of the debris in the air, its gravitational pull meant that anything loose was also sucked into it. Cars, light posts, and benches started to creak and croak as they were drawn toward the dot. Once Superman relented, Danny dismissed the black hole he created.

Danny generated a red ball of light in his hand and Superman fell to the ground instantly. As Danny floated over to him.

“I want you to start treating Conner better, You see this?” Danny gestured to the red orb.

“I can create these at will, I am the King of the infinite realms, Ancient of Space, The King of the endless. Creating a Red Giant is child's play. I’ve used not even a fraction of my power.” Danny’s layered voice echoed so loud it could be heard for miles.

A burst of magical energy caused Danny to jump back. The justice league and the Justice League dark appeared to surround Danny and Superman.

“King Phantom, please don’t kill Superman. Constantine told me you have every right to do so, but I ask as a favor please don’t.” Batman said.

“I wasn’t going to kill him. That isn’t necessary. In Fact, I was giving him a gift.” Danny laughed as he dismissed the Red Giant in his hand and began collecting red energy at the tip of his finger into a little ball.

“The gift of having time to reflect and to spend with Conner so he can see Conner as his own person. The mirror born are truly special. They’re a gift, I hate to see something so precious squandered because he wants to be a bigoted obstinate dick” Danny said as the red ball formed a beam that shot through Superman's shoulder.

“Kal-El take this warning to heart. It is the last one you will receive.” Danny said before he faded away. The members looked around to try and find him. The only thing they found was that all of the damage from the fight was gone as if the fight never occurred in the first place.

AN: Sorry totally forgot to post this one here, Finally the first big fight between Danny and superman,

#dpxdc #dpxdc au #danny fenton #Superman is a dick #superman #Danny is the king of interrupting meetings #I gave danny space powers and im in love

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blackjackkent · 4 months

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Hector lands on the final platform with a grunt and looks towards Balthazar and the woman caged in front of him.

The woman is pale as a ghost, even to her hair and her eyes. Her face is heavily scarred and her clothes ragged and torn. She glances at Hector with disinterest, but her gaze, and her ire, is primarily reserved for Balthazar, who is standing before her with a look of casual cruelty.

"Balthazar," the woman snaps. "Come to add more bars to my cage. Or perhaps to lead this would-be Justiciar's blade directly to my heart?"

She gestures, indicating Hector, and he flinches away from the assertion. Shadowheart is the one here to become a Justiciar; to be considered the petitioner himself is anathema. (And indeed, out of the corner of his eye, he can see Shadowheart surging forward to claim her rightful reward - but he puts an arm out across her chest, blocking her. They cannot speak yet; there is more to be heard.)

The woman's eyes flash back to Balthazar, and she lunges in his direction against the edge of the sigil holding her - and pale green spectral hands grasp at her, pulling her back, holding her still.

"I invite you," she snarls. "Heap more sins upon your head. My retribution will be all the sweeter for them."

Balthazar smiles coolly, unfazed by her impotent rage. "All this time," he murmurs, "and you still fail to appreciate the gifts I bestowed on you, Aylin. Sad, to see a thing of beauty not recognize its own worth." He circles the edge of the sigil, eyeing her like a particularly fascinating caged beast. "But General Thorm... *he* appreciates you. And he wants you close at hand, so I am here to whisk you back to him."

The Nightsong - Aylin? - struggles against her bonds, and the snarl on her face turns sardonic. "Ketheric. I welcome the sight of him, after these hundred years - he whose immortality I supply with my very soul."

Hector goes very still. His eyes flick sideways to Shadowheart and he sees that she has registered the meaning of these words as well. There is so much more at work here than the Justiciar trial, something that ties to the heart of everything they are struggling against.

This woman cannot be allowed to return to Thorm - at any cost.

Balthazar's smile loses some of its cool humor. "*General* Thorm," he repeats icily. "I'm sure you'll be on your best behavior for him, but just in case, I've taken some precautions."

He turns casually to Hector, seemingly unaware of the monk's distaste for the entire situation. "Keep back. It will take quite some concentration to secure Aylin for her little journey."

Hector draws a slow breath, trying to calm the racing of his mind enough to think, to decide on a plan. "Wait," he says, stalling for time. "The Nightsong is a person?"

Balthazar laughs.

"Person? Please. You insult her. You insult *me*. Aylin is so much more than that. She is an aasimar, bound to a soulcage of my creation and lending her immortal strength to General Thorm. Her power, his will, and my genius - an unsurpassable feat."

Hector feels a chill go through him. An aasimar - one touched by celestial blood, beyond human - trapped in this place for the century that Thorm has been immortal, mocked by this blasphemous cruelty for decades...

"Ramblings most unsane," Aylin sneers, uncowed even after such torment. "Poor Balthazar, for maggots ate his brain long ago."

"Hold your tongue, Aylin," Balthazar snaps coldly. "Or I'll take it away from you again." He turns to look at Hector, and the veneer of calm authority begins to slip in favor of irritation. "And you - no more questions. No more interference."

Hector flicks his eyes to his companions; all of them have shoulders set, eyes narrowed. He knows they all see the truth of the situation as clearly as he does. This can't be allowed to happen. And there is no way Balthazar will be dissuaded from his plans with anything other than violence.

Subtly he shifts his weight onto the balls of his feet, into the steady central stance ready to leap in any direction. Hidden by his crossed arms, his hands clench into fists.

"If she's the reason Ketheric Thorm is invulnerable," he says, voice steady and hard as steel, "you're not taking her. Leave, or you're a dead man."

Balthazar turns slowly towards him, and any pretense of pleasantry vanishes from him. His eyes are black coal flared with embers.

"Dead man," he murmurs. "You haven't been paying attention, have you? Perhaps I'll revive your carcass and add you to my retinue. Then you'll have all the time in the world to think on your mistakes!"

With astonishing speed for his bulk, he darts backwards, flaring with necromantic magic, and all around them, the strewn forms of the dead begin to rise.

Oh boy.

#bjk plays baldur's gate 3 #hector carlisle #oh boy here we go

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novacarinae-fr · 2 years

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Sornieth Solar System

Sornieth is the fourth planet in its solar system, though it is the only one of its family of seven that is known to be artificial. Understanding Sornieth’s true nature as a constructed planet, and being able to observe our sister worlds without interference from Sornieth’s atmosphere, has allowed us to gain a much more detailed understanding of our solar system.

For a long time, the four inner planets were the only ones known to dragonkind, due to Sornieth’s unique atmospheric distortion and the strange 25-AU gap between Sornieth and the next furthest planet. It was only when we were able to observe from outside the atmosphere that we were able to assemble a truly accurate picture.

(For ease of reading, I will be using Earth as a reference for measurements. 1 AU = distance between Earth and Sun, about 93 million miles or 150 million km.)

SUN

The star of Sornieth’s solar system is a rather ordinary K-type, Population I, main sequence orange dwarf star.

Spectral Type: K2V

Mass: 0.830 solar masses

Radius: 0.785 solar radii

Luminosity: 0.37 solar luminosities

Effective temperature: 5120K

Lifespan: 16 billion years

Age: 10 billion years

Other info / notable details: N/A

Tlinieth

The first planet from the Sun, Tlinieth was once a gas giant. However, its extreme proximity to the star stripped away its atmosphere, leaving behind only its metallic core. The planet is currently extremely dense, though it is in the process of decompressing. From Sornieth, the planet is far too close to the sun to be visible, but its transits cause measurable dips in the Sun’s brightness.

Mass: 30 Earth masses

Radius: 8 Earth radii

Orbital radius: 0.025 AU

Orbital eccentricity: 0.008 (nearly perfectly circular)

Year length: 1.58 days

Day length: 1.58 days (tidally locked)

Composition: Rocky

Atmosphere: None

Moons: None

Other: Astronomers knew of the planet’s existence for thousands of years due to its gravitational influence and slight dips in the Sun’s brightness, but were unable to actually observe it due to its proximity to the star until quite recently. Although recently discovered, its name is derived from the ancient Draconic words meaning “burning planet”.

Kirnieth

Kirnieth, second planet from the Sun, is a small rocky planet with a highly eccentric orbit; it’s theorized the planet may have started out more circular, and had its orbit disrupted by the migration of Tlinieth through the inner solar system. It lacks an atmosphere, and its dark surface is covered in glowing cracks where gravitational stress and asteroid impacts have taken their toll on the crust, exposing the molten mantle.

Mass: 0.10 Earth masses

Radius: 0.44 Earth radii

Semimajor Axis: 0.37 AU

Orbital eccentricity: 0.21 (high eccentricity)

Year length: 90 days

Day length: 16 days

Composition: Rocky

Atmosphere: Very thin, mostly carbon dioxide

Moons: none

Other: Its name is derived from the ancient Draconic words for “dancing planet”, due to its swift motion through the sky and difficulties in predicting its position in ancient times.

Merakai

Merakai has, in the past decade, gone from one of the least interesting planets to the most fascinating. The planet is much more within the star’s habitable zone than Sornieth itself- and is the only other world known to support life. Through the lenses of our best telescopes on Sornieth, the planet’s surface has appeared a smooth, hazy, featureless tan. Upon closer inspection, however, we found the othermost layer of the planet to be riddled with tunnels and rooms too small for any dragons much larger than a skydancer, unmistakably artificial and incredibly ancient- older than Sornieth itself. This planet once supported a vast technologically advanced society. The planet-wide underground complex, which is now known as the Labyrinth, seems to have begun as a crude construction at least 5 million years ago, but was rapidly expanded to cover the whole planet and then even more rapidly abandoned over the total course of 1000-1500 years, 1 million years ago. Why the Labyrinth Builders disappeared is still unknown. Although the planet is no longer home to any megafauna, small ‘plants’, ‘animals’, and microbes continue to thrive.

Mass: 1.21 Earth masses

Radius: 1.10 Earth radii

Orbital radius: 0.5 AU

Orbital eccentricity: 0.018 (near-circular)

Year length: 142 days

Day length: 28 hours

Composition: Rocky

Atmosphere: Nitrogen, oxygen, and other trace gases; slightly thinner than Sornieth. Breathable, but irritates lungs of dragons after prolonged exposure. Beastclans seem to be able to breathe the air indefinitely.

Moons: 13 known small, irregular moons in an impressive ring system

Other: Merakai is the only inner planet whose common name is Beastclan in origin, rather than draconic, though scholars continue to argue about the origins and meaning of the name. It is also the only other currently inhabited planet in the solar system; The Company have been traversing its atmosphere in airships for a few years, and intend to eventually build a permanent base. The Company have also been at the forefront of exploring the Labyrinth and researching those who came before. A few of the researchers believe Merakai was home to the spacefaring common ancestors of many Beastclans long before dragonkind ever existed. A few decades ago, all of us would’ve called this idea madness. Now, we agree it is at least worth a serious investigation.

Sornieth

Sornieth is an extremely recent newcomer to the system, at least on cosmic timescales. The planet is only about 1 million years old, compared to the 10 billion year age of the system. Currently, we believe the planet was constructed from material gathered from the asteroid belt just beyond the planet’s orbit. The planet is hollow, or at least mostly hollow- we don’t know whether the cavity contains air, vacuum, or low-density support structures, but we do know the Rift opening is at the planet’s core, powering all magic on the planet. We are, essentially, living on the outside of a small Dyson sphere.

Mass: 1.87 Earth masses

Radius: 1.6 Earth radii

Orbital radius: 0.94 AU; on the cold outskirts of the star’s habitable zone. The heat that makes liquid water possible at this distance comes from the inside. Our current theory is that, rather than the planet’s distance being a design flaw the Eleven need to divert energy to, Sornieth was created farther away from the Sun intentionally so the gods could use the planet to dissipate excess Rift energy as heat. Perhaps simply building the planet farther away and letting the Rift heat it internally was easier and more efficient than finding a way to limit the flow of energy or cool the core.

Orbital eccentricity: 0.000 (perfectly circular according to our current best measurements)

Year length: 365 days

Day length: 24 hours

Composition: Very dense rocky shell (about 1/10th of total radius); hollow interior. Relatively thin crust over a thin layer of mantle; plate tectonics are extremely slow, with most volcanoes caused by hot spots.

Atmosphere: Nitrogen, oxygen, and other trace gases

Moons: 2 “twin” moons- the Weaver’s Eye and the Binder’s Eye. They are the same size (0.15 Earth radii, 0.01 Earth masses), perfectly spherical, and have seemingly identical color and composition, though the Binder’s Eye is farther away and appears smaller. They are currently unexplored in any detail due to difficulties presented by force field distortion- like trying to make out writing a mile away through a haze of hot air. It’s unknown whether these moons are natural satellites the planet captured, or constructions like Sornieth itself. There have been some indications of structures on the surface, but we haven’t been able to eliminate the possibility that this is simply due to the unique distortion.

Other: Name is ancient Draconic for “our planet”. One of two planets in our solar system known to harbor life. Why the Eleven built it is unknown. Sornieth is the only planet in the system that can sustain magic, due to the Rift. The Rift itself remains mysterious in origin, but what little we know is this: the Rift is a hole between universes, connecting the center of Sornieth to the core of a star in a parallel universe. The Rift leeches energy from the star, which is what makes magic possible here- energy from ‘nothing’, with the Eleven acting as conduits. However, this has destabilized the star and accelerated its demise. The residents of this parallel universe created the Shade as a weapon of self-defense. We are unable to make the details of our research public for security reasons; for more information on the Rift, Shade, or Riftkind, it is necessary to contact the Vigilance personally.

Void Belt

For thousands of years, the solar system was believed to consist only of the four inner planets, with Sornieth marking its outer edge and nothing but asteroids and comets beyond. It’s understandable that scholars believed this to be the case; the idea of there being a nearly 4-billion-kilometer gap between Sornieth and the next planet would’ve been difficult to take seriously, especially without much visible evidence. The outer planets orbit slowly, and with atmospheric distortion, most of them are invisible to the naked eye and nearly impossible to spot even with a telescope. It wasn’t until we were able to observe our solar system from space that these planets were discovered. The 25-AU gap- which we call the Void Belt- contains several asteroid belts and swarms of comets, but nothing large enough to qualify as a dwarf planet.

Shanieth

Shanieth is a frozen water world, the closest of the recently discovered Outer Planets. Although we have sent a probe to explore it, it will be decades before that probe arrives. Unless we can build something faster, or spare a large amount of resources to send Horizon Seeker, it will be a long time before Shanieth reveals her mysteries.

Mass: 2.3 Earth masses

Radius: 1.3 Earth radii

Orbital radius: 26 AU

Orbital eccentricity: 0.07

Year length: 217.9 years

Day length: 19.4 hours

Composition: Rocky, with thick outer layer of ice/water.

Atmosphere: Thick; nitrogen, oxygen, water vapor and carbon dioxide. Greenhouse effect makes the planet somewhat warmer, but not enough to make it habitable for any known macroscopic life.

Moons: None; three very thin rings.

Other: Name is ancient Draconic for “frozen planet”, to accompany Tlinieth. It’s likely the planet’s water layer is not frozen all the way through, but has a several-kilometer-deep ice ‘shell’ with an extremely deep liquid ocean beneath heated by pressure and the planet’s interior. It’s theorized this ocean may sustain some extremely strange alien life, but so far we don’t have conclusive evidence either way.

Xai

Xai is a brilliant blue gas giant with a large, beautiful icy ring system, and is the second largest planet.

Mass: 69 Earth masses

Radius: 4.2 Earth radii

Orbital radius: 30 AU

Orbital eccentricity: 0.05

Year length: 270.1 years

Day length: 11 hours

Composition: Gas giant; primarily hydrogen, helium

Moons: 28 known

Other: The name is derived from an ancient Maren sky deity.

Osoba

Osoba is a small brown dwarf, an object between the largest gas giants and the smallest stars; large enough to fuse deuterium, but not massive enough to fuse hydrogen to helium in their cores like proper stars. It glows a dim magenta, and has a surface temperature of about 600K. It is not visible with the naked eye from Sornieth and is barely visible as an extremely faint magenta object through telescopes. Osoba is younger than the rest of the solar system, which coupled with its highly eccentric orbit suggests this may in fact be a failed star captured by the Sun, rather than something that formed in the solar system. We’ve been unable to explore it in much detail; we plan to send the Horizon Seeker there as a test run of its deep space travel capabilities before we attempt a mission to another star system.

Mass: 9550 Earth masses

Radius: 11.5 Earth radii

Semimajor axis: 60 AU

Orbital eccentricity: 0.25

Year length: 764 years

Day length: uncertain

Composition: Mostly hydrogen, helium

Moons: 34 known, 4 of them large enough that they could be considered dwarf or small planets if they weren’t moons.

Other: Name derived from the ruler of the Serthis underworld.

#flight rising #flight rising lore #fr lore #flightrising #straka’s lore

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wallacepolsom · 2 years

Photo

Wallace Polsom, Spectral Interference XVI (2022), diptych, paper collage, 21.4 x 28.2 cm.

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adz · 1 year

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spectral interference

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rainbowchewynuggets · 1 year

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TMA Encore #11b

When the walls finally settle, the remaining group is left with one path down to the Panopticon. Sasha asks Not-Martin if he can conjure them a way in that isn’t curated by their opponent. He says he can’t do anything like that–not this close to the Eye’s center of power. Tim is given the option of staying behind, but he can’t feel assured that the walls won’t push him along anyway.

Tim: Besides, I’m developing a strong need to kick that thing’s ass when we find it.

Reluctantly, carefully, the three archival staff pick their way down warped stairs and lopsided halls. Their spectral escort leads the way. Degraded uneven stone and poured cement eventually give way to the slightly more preserved inner walls of the prison. The rumbling returns to muttering, which then becomes footsteps on concrete and clanging steel doors on rusty hinges. There’s too much echo to tell from where. The increasing presence of the Eye makes them all feel watched and makes Not-Martin as blind as they are. They change the flashlights’ batteries.

The dust breeding on the decaying pipes above floats down through the air into the dark. They glint and dance like distant spirits before the group’s flashlights, playing tricks with the imagination.

Martin feels like his heart’s going to leap out of his chest. He tries to match Not-Martin’s stride, diving into the darkness without hesitation. It doesn’t matter if something’s out there, he tells himself. He knows where he’s going. Tim and Sasha stick to Martin, watching their backs more than anything. Tim doesn’t like following Not-Martin, but he doesn’t feel like throwing out pack security right now. Sasha’s half expecting the walls or floor to turn over in their sleep at any moment. She walks on the balls of her feet.

Her apprehension is the only reason that she’s ready to pull Tim and herself out of the way when a door suddenly swings shut between the group. She meant to catch Martin too, but she missed. Another door slams on the other side of the Martins, enclosing them in the closet-sized security chamber they were passing through. Not-Martin is first to try the handle, but it’s hot. Liquified metal from the latch dribbles down the door jamb. He braves the heat and pulls, but the door might as well be part of the wall. Martin kicks the other door with the same result.

Footsteps–near ones–clatter down an adjoining corridor. Different from the sharp snapping of the dress shoes Jonah always wears. Not-Martin shouts through the door.

NM: Don’t let him get to the bottom of the guard tower!

Tim and Sasha run off.

Martin: This didn’t happen before, either?

Not-Martin sighs.

Jon makes his way through a wide intake corridor in the prison with the spiderweb lighter as a torch. He feels the need to hurry, but precaution stands against it. The supernatural interference that he was hoping to use to track the presence of his adversaries is completely drowned out by the affronted gaze of his native patron. His head pounds. Not-Jon could already be following him. Steering him.

Martin’s bold assertions from before give him courage. He does wish Martin was here beside him, though.

Jon blinks away a staticky discomfort in his eyes and checks his periphery. Nothing but darkness and dust motes. Picking up on Jonah’s trail doesn’t prove difficult. After meandering around a bit, he stumbles upon a set of footprints in the dust. They’re too big to be his own.

The thin twang of struck iron yanks his attention directly behind him. Then again–higher, overhead. Jon only needs to catch the faint sway of buckling structure in the dim light to break into a run in the other direction. A churning, skidding screech rings through the hall behind Jon, stripping the pipes and support beams overhead in the process. Seeing them pulled out of their fastenings just ahead of him pushes him to go faster. He refuses to turn and look. The sheets of dust falling around him, vibrations underfoot, and approaching cascade of noise needs no image. Nor does he stop when the screeching and crashing attenuates into a granular rasp.

It fully stops at a small empty office. Jon lets himself collide with the far wall rather than trying to slow down. He catches his breath, his lungs burning, body shaking, blood vessels firing like they’re filled with gunpowder. He turns over to lean his back on the wall and finally has a look. The path behind him is shut, the floor and ceiling about 20 feet behind pressed tightly together. The exposed rebar and debris sticking out of the seam twitches and creaks, reaching for him like skeletal hands. So do the ones still hung from the ceiling. They stop after a few seconds.

Jon sinks down the wall to the floor beside a metal cabinet, relieved to think that Not-Jon can’t reach him here and has stopped trying. From afar, at least.

He lets himself rest. His eyes hurt.

Jonah: It is nice to drop the pretense and see each other plain, isn’t it? Sooner than I thought, though.

Jon steadies immediately.

Jon: I was looking for you.

Jonah: I know.

He produces his crescent-shaped piece of the plastic ring from his vest pocket.

Jonah: You were looking for me because you couldn’t save the others because you couldn’t find out what was really going on. Sounds familiar.

Jon makes the sinking realization as the words slither out. His head falls limply back against the wall. Jonah was privy the entire time–even of the summary of prior events that Not-Jon gave the team.

Jon: So glad we could entertain you.

Jonah: I’ll admit, it has been interesting. I’ve watched a lot of people come and go, and it never fails to astound me how resiliently some will fight a current even when it’s plainly obvious that they’ll never reach the shore. Resting all their bets on little objects is usually a bad sign.

Jon is thoroughly unmoved by this poetry. He doesn’t have to be–Jonah is plenty satisfied with himself. He twiddles with the broken ring in his fingers.

Jonah: So, isn’t this the part where you try to leverage your extranarrative knowledge to force or convince me to give you my piece of–what is it? From the American comic books?

Jon: Kryptonite.

Jonah: Ah. I give up my kryptonite so you can go find the last piece, kill your doppelganger, and… get on with the rest of your swimming.

Jon: No. I just came to give you mine.

He holds his tiny square of plastic out for Jonah to take. The steady expression on Jonah’s face falters with the raising of an eyebrow. His spellbinding eyes pierce Jon’s curiously. Jon volunteers to speak before he’s forced to.

Jon: I get it. No matter what I do, no matter where I go, you’ll always get your way. The Fears will get their way. Putting it off just gets people killed. We don’t need to have any more monsters around than we have to.

Jonah takes the piece from Jon, but he doesn’t break eye contact. His gaze delves deeper, searching for something in particular. Jon feels it groping. Cold shivers run up and down his spine. He can’t even move.

After a few long seconds, Jonah retracts unsatisfied. He looks annoyed, like something was in the way.

Jonah: You really expect me to think you’d go through with this?

Jon: Well, it’s one thing we haven’t tried yet.

Jonah breaks into a chuckle. He turns to go.

Jonah: I suppose it doesn’t matter if you mean it or not. But I wouldn’t get too comfortable. I’m going to see if I can’t tweak the ending a bit.

Jon takes some time to recover after Jonah’s footsteps have receded down the hallway. When he’s ready, he picks himself up and starts looking for a way back to the tunnels.

Tim and Sasha pursue the footsteps. Once in a while, they’ll see part of a black shirt, the heel of a shoe, or a lock of silver hair wink out of the edge of the flashlight’s field of view. Down the stairs, through more halls, down more stairs. Not-Jon gains lead as the footsteps grow fainter. By the time the two of them reach a series of filthy chambers on the very bottom floor, they can barely hear anything. The hanging cobwebs caked in dust are so thick, they can hardly see, either.

The last trace they hear leads them to another heavy security door, sitting slightly askew in its frame. Its hinges have completely given in, along with part of the wall leading into the adjoining room–a room full of drains with a long wire mesh window in the connecting wall. There are handprints in the dust all around the door. Tim and Sasha work together to try to unjam the obstacle, but it’s wedged against the edge of the next wall. Their only option is to try to pull it from the drain room. And take up more time. The footsteps are already gone.

The door to the drain room is all the way down the hall to their left. They hurry inside, cross the tile floor littered with fallen plumbing, and latch onto the bit of door peeking out from the far wall. The door’s finish is pearly and slippery under the grime. It takes them several minutes to inch it far enough out of the way for both of them to be able to squeak through the gap when they get back. By the time they’re done, their fingers and arms hurt. They head back to the door to the hallway, only to find that it won’t open. The doorknob is warm.

A familiar figure passes by the mesh window at a shambling pace. Not-Jon is haggard, barely able to hold himself upright beneath the crushing weight of the center of the enemy Eye, let alone concentrate enough to manipulate architecture again. Tim and Sasha don’t need proof of that to realize the ruse. They shout at him in resentment. Not-Jon doesn’t turn. He disappears through the slim opening in the doorway.

Sasha grabs a pipe and tries hacking at the drain room door’s hinges. The hinges fly off, but the door stays firmly in place. She turns around when she hears Tim bashing at the metal mesh with a club-like joint piece. The mesh is rusted enough to bust apart after a few good hits. She joins him. The sound of something heavy crashing to the floor up ahead adds to the cacophony of metal on metal. They create a decently wide clearing and help each other climb the half wall. Sasha goes first. Bits of jagged rust cut her legs and hands as she hurries through. Her hair tie gets caught and breaks. She lands with hair spread over her shoulders and eyes. Tim grimaces as he makes the vault. They squeeze into the next area and find themselves barred by a lockdown gate designed to separate the cells of the inner Panopticon from the rest of the prison. Their injured hands and legs scream in pain as they try to lift it. The sliding parts have been welded together. The only other outlet leads back into the halls. Sasha instantly dashes off, determined to find another route. She turns at the door when she doesn’t hear Tim behind her. He’s staring through the bars, his expression of outrage washing over with growing panic and anguish. She has to swallow her own terror in order to speak.

Sasha: Tim!

He follows wordlessly.

With nowhere to go and nothing to do, Martin listens to “The Last”. He’s tired of guessing at how bad it was. Not to be mistaken, it is bad. He already knew that Not-Martin–no, the old Martin–had had to stab the old Jon to detach him from his ultimate place in the Fears’ designs. He knew that Jon had gotten there by killing the man who had victimized everyone he cared about. But now he understood how hard it all was to live through. How resentful, disappointing, uncertain, and destroying. Martin’s heart leaps out to them in their hope and foolishness. His aching loneliness envies them.

There was maybe a trace of that when it was retold to him by the Thing That Used To Be Jonathan Sims. But it was more like an actor conjuring a feeling.

Martin looks up at the person stoically pressing his fingers into the crack of an iron door, one centimeter at a time, to melt the fused part and push it out. His flesh resists the whole way, but he doesn’t make a sound or flinch. His expression is unreadable. It doesn’t seem like much remains of the old Martin now. Martin wonders with wariness what could have taken its place.

Not-Martin finishes with a section and retracts his hand to correct the warped bones before starting again. Martin has to look away. He’s glad his double has stopped trying to squeeze through the holes in the corners of the room, at least.

The flashlight on his knee rolls to his crossed ankles.

NM: Steady light, please.

Martin puts it back and holds it there. He continues to stare. Not-Martin notices and eyes him stoically, glancing at the tape.

Martin: What... happened to you?

Not-Martin: I told you what happened.

Martin nods.

He doesn’t ask what he means to ask, but Not-Martin hears it anyway. The latter considers for a moment before going ahead with the answer.

Not-Martin: It’s a survival thing.

He says that the more he and Not-Jon relived their history throughout the cycles of time, the less they felt over it. They knew that whatever was lost or changed would return unaltered the next round, and re-experiencing something they’d seen before didn’t inspire the same urgency of feeling. It was all less precious. Many of the unknowns were known.

They had used that kind of apathy to their advantage. Conducting their operations and overpowering avatars is relatively easy when fear can’t stand in your way. It certainly has its drawbacks, alienating them from other people and driving them to make questionable decisions in the name of a greater good that hasn’t yet materialized. All the events and people that used to motivate their actions are now no more than pieces on a chessboard.

Martin: That’s horrible.

NM: It’s the only reliable agency we have, given what we’ve become.

Martin: You don’t feel anything at all?

NM: Sometimes. It comes in waves. The context just kind of… fades in and out of focus.

They did it for so long that the behavior became part of their being, as everything now does. As long as they remain unafraid, they can’t be killed by outside forces--with one exception.

Because Not-Martin and Not-Jon are the only ones who permanently change, the consequences stay potent. The fear of those consequences makes them more vulnerable to each other.

Not-Martin rubs his mottled fingers with a thumb.

As he realized they were approaching what would be the last world they’d ever see, Not-Martin clung to that immunity by surrendering his sense of self-preservation. If he has nothing to lose, there’s nothing to hold him back.

His gaze has drifted down into the flashlight. His voice softens to a dwelling murmur, like he’s talking to himself.

NM: It’s funny. We initially thought denying our fear would be a way to place ourselves out of the Entities’ reach. We’d be free. That was never going to happen, obviously. We’d nearly forgotten why we were doing what we were doing. We were just going through the motions, wasting time as the pent-up hunger got worse. Jon actually knew it before I did. There’s a part of him that just can’t let go of his old self, I suppose. Or the Fears just have their hooks too deep in him for him to get away with not caring. So, he’s stuck between being afraid of failing and not being able to afford to feel that fear.

Martin: And so are you.

NM: I stand a chance, at least. It’s too late for my Jon to get the ending he wants, and I think he knows it. He’ll stop if his back’s far enough against the wall. We gave it our best, but we’ve become part of the problem before we could fix it. Just like last time. It’s time to give up and disappear.

Martin: But you won’t be able to do it alone, will you?

He takes a deep breath and looks Martin in the eye.

NM: If you really want to help, you’ll have to play by our rules. I have a bad feeling it’ll only get worse from here. We really can’t afford to lose.

Martin nods.

Thoughts bother him.

Martin: Even if he did agree to share the hunger, you’d still be risking losing the only lucid person between the two of you. That’s why he won’t share it, isn’t it?

NM: Yes.

Martin: You’d be the only one who could kill--

NM: Yes.

Not-Martin’s mouth curls sourly.

NM: But I won’t have to. With any luck.

Martin: … There aren’t many good outcomes here, are there?

NM: No, there aren’t.

Not-Martin sets his face back to stone and returns to working on the door.

Martin sits back and accidentally pushes the tape player into a small hole just behind him. It tears away from the headphone cord and tumbles down through the levels of the prison and lands at Jon’s feet.

Jon calls out, but no one responds. He considers, then takes it with him.

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Index

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