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in-tua-deep · 4 years ago

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Oooooo the red bock au sounds so interesting! Does Five caught himself thinking of his brothers just as numbers and weapons like Reginald talks in his book? Does he read Vanya book to remind himself that they are still human even though he reads it through lens of someone hurt by them all? And I feel like the handler would know either way about the books but o it's so much fun to see five being paranoid

I think having both books and both perspectives reminds Five that... he’s getting some very biased accounts of his own siblings. I think that when he’s still young, he writes down as many memories as he can remember because... he starts to forget, at some point.

Vanya’s book talks about how volatile Diego and Luther’s relationship is, and so Five writes down the time Luther and Diego teamed up to toss Five off a balcony when Five kept switching the pens in their hands with pipe cleaners during a lesson (and he will maintain until his dying day that he was just practicing his control, c’mon guys!)

when Reginald’s notes call Allison an “insufferable, narcissistic creature,” Five remembers Allison bribing him to cause trouble and distract Reginald so that she could use the microwave unobserved to heat up some water bottles as makeshift heat packs for Luther’s sore muscles

when Vanya calls Ben “easily manipulated,” Five recalls Ben arguing theories with him at 2am after one of Ben’s training sessions where Ben almost flipped his bed when Five jokingly suggested that he could use the horror’s tentacles to bounce up and down like a pogo stick before Ben tackled him and tried to beat Five to death with an encyclopedia of sea creatures (affectionately)

I think having Reginald’s journal actually helps in a lot of ways, because Five automatically autocorrects literally all of Reginald’s thoughts to be like, mostly inaccurate and much harsher than they need to be. So when he reads Vanya’s journal he also autocorrects and is able to recognize that it is a very biased and somewhat harsh view of his siblings

(he doesn’t distrust them as much as he does in canon, with only Vanya’s harsh words to cling to with no reminder that they were all raised by a man capable of unfathomable cruelty, no reminder that authors can be oh so biased)

outside of his equations, there’s notes to himself written in the margins of Vanya’s book. Sometimes they’re just small, pointing out that Klaus had fought to include Vanya in trap week (Klaus then proceeded to team up with her and managed to catch Five in a snare - he actually still has a scar around his ankle from his upsidedown thrashing before he managed to steal one of Diego’s knives to cut himself down) or pointing out that Luther’s chilly attitude when they were ten was probably the result of Vanya outperforming him in every standardized test they took because of Luther’s ridiculous inferiority-superiority complex

at the very least he has comparison, because Reginald’s book calls Klaus an absolute failure while Vanya’s book called him “sweet, as a child at least”

As for the Handler... she’s aware that he has Vanya’s book and a red notebook, but I don’t think she actually knows what’s in the red notebook! Reginald was notoriously secretive, after all

So the Handler assumes that the red notebook is where Five keeps his time travel equations because aw, he hasn’t given up! how cute!

She makes an assumption that, logically, makes sense. Of course Five is still trying to figure out time travel, no matter how much he denies it! Of course he’s writing the equations down! What a silly boy, thinking that he could hide this from her, of course she knows about his little plans to save his siblings ;3c

And because she’s so powerful and knowledgeable and one step ahead all the time, she makes an assumption and assumes that it is fact. Because she’s so smart, of course she isn’t wrong! She’s had Five clocked from day one!

(The Handler thinks she has Five all figured out, a creature so based in sentiment. Why would he carry a book around that details the torture his siblings went through? He hates his father, why would he ever carry around his father’s notebook! The Handler has a fatal flaw, and it is that she doesn’t understand loyalty and sneers at sentiment and those are two of Five’s most powerful driving factors. Five lives for his siblings and would die for his siblings, almost his entire life has been dedicated to saving them. Not the world, just his family.)

(She understands that Five considers his family to be exceptionally valuable, but doesn’t comprehend that Five is 100% willing to die for them should it come down to it. Why on earth would anyone value something like siblings over their own life? Absurd. I genuinely believe that the Handler thinks she could get Five to betray his siblings with the right leverage, and so she fundamentally does not understand Five as a person)

To be fair to the Handler, the whole academy’s morals and just. completely and utterly fucked. Luther condemns the murder of innocent civilians even if it would save the planet but doesn’t blink an eye at killing the ‘bad guy’ Commission agents. Diego stabs criminals as a pastime while still holding himself at a moral high ground for saving people, despite the fact that too many criminals are forced into crime by unfair circumstances. Allison used her powers to bolster her career without even blinking but now refuses to use her powers at all because of the manipulation of one (1) child, not even against ‘bad guys.’

I mean. Vanya wrote an entire salt book without consulting her siblings that had lasting impacts on at least one of her sibling’s career in the public eye and potentially impacting her siblings relationships with everyone who had every read the spark notes on her book, without the opportunity for reprisal. Publishing your entire family’s dirty laundry as personal emotional catharsis is... kind of a dick mood, lets be real. Especially when you were all abused children raised in an environment of excessive violence and rigid structure.

Like yeah, of course Allison is good at manipulation and lying - she grew up with an abusive and over-controlling father. She probably lied as easily as breathing about where she’d been, who she was with, what she was doing, etc. The only privacy they got in that household was what they seized with their own hands and carved out for themselves! Is it fair to say that Allison’s superpower is dishonestly?

Is it fair to say that Klaus got crueler as he grew? He was tortured and turned to drugs as an unhealthy coping mechanism, and then he sat down at a table and looked at all the other little kiddies who did not get locked into a crypt overnight. In fact, there was one child who never got any extra training at all! Can you imagine the jealousy? The bitterness? Klaus might have been exceptionally cruel to Vanya as a teenager, she had everything he wanted and dared to complain about it. Can you imagine listening to someone wistfully wish they could join in on missions when you know that the cost for doing so has been carved out of your soul?

My point is, none of these little bitches have anything that resembles a sane moral compass. They’re unpredictable as fuck! It’s like herding cats! You never know what they’re going to do next! Oh? Are they going to investigate in any logical pattern? No, because Diego just remembered Patch exists and helping her print flyers for the annual police ball is more important than saving the world or whatever lol

Luther is over there investigating the moon! The moon! Meanwhile Allison is breaking and entering her sister’s student’s house because she got shady vibes off of him one time and she has never heard of a proportionate action in her life.

Meanwhile Vanya is going through the phone book trying to call up psychiatrists who have any familiarity with whatever fucked up meds Dad put her on because like, she would like to Not Be On Them (fuck you dad) but also understands that danger of quitting cold turkey something you have been taking for years and would like a professional opinion on how to safely decrease and eventually eliminate her usage, thanks (Klaus is hanging over her shoulder pointing out the ones who will sell you non-prescription drugs for a price and Vanya mentally crosses those ones off of her list to call)

Five is probably joining on the breaking and entering because Allison promised she would sweet talk to eye dude if he did her this solid

(Five complains at length about how investigating the apocalypse should not be a solid because she would 100% die as well if the apocalypse came to pass)

#the red book au #plus like. some thoughts and opinions lmao #look Vanya's book was healing and cathartic for her #does that mean it should have been published?#FUCK NO #it's biased as all fuck for starters and could genuinely impact her siblings jobs and relationships #anyway the hargreeves are all cats #they do their own thing regardless of what they should be doing #their orders of priorities are fucked tbh #what do you mean vanya's job isn't equally as important as saving the world?#she has to pay rent somehow five !!#klaus is down to go threaten a seedy dude but can they investigate dad's will after pretty please?#maybe there's a clue! or numbers about inheritance!#if dad disowned them then diego is forging the will tbh #not because he wants the bastard's money but it's the PRINCIPLE of the thing #Anonymous #long post #far tua long

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sayonarasanity · 4 years ago

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windmill

this fic is based on the song Windmill by Lor (and I highly recommend you to listen to it while reading especially or later for it is an incredible song)

AO3

summary: Here is the thing about Levi, his heart is a windmill in the middle of a wilderness where there was no wind to make it twirl, there was no wind to make it beat, pound and feel. Just feel.

Until one day he got hit by a storm so wild, so rare and so incredibly terrifying but in the most beautiful and breath-taking way that it left him defenceless, vulnerable and weak. Like a tiny little flower which had long passed its day of blossoming in a fierce, winter dawn yet it stood erect with its fragile body, challenging against the merciless winds and the brutal frost.

He fell in love.

Windmill, are you still afraid of nothing?

Here is the thing about human life, it isn’t everlasting.

But what is? The world and each and everything within it are mundane. The day is doomed with the night, the sun is doomed with the moon, life is doomed with death, men are doomed with gravity. If something starts, then it is fated to end. It is a vicious circle, living that is. Waking up only to sleep again at night. Earning money only to spend it an hour later on a trouser which you thought was necessary but maybe it wasn’t. Cooking for hours and hours just so you can eat it in mere ten minutes because your body needs food so that you can keep on living, living and living.

Like a windmill, turning, turning and turning to the day when there is not even a breeze to swirl you and you are frozen, unspoken and rigid.

And here is the thing about Levi, his heart is a windmill in the middle of a wilderness where there was no wind to make it twirl, there was no wind to make it beat, pound and feel. Just feel.

He fell in love.

And he fell in love not like jumping to death from a high up building, piercing through the clouds. It wasn’t as quick as that. He fell in love as if he had jumped into a river. It was slow and it hurt during the process of acknowledging it. Like accepting the fact that you were dying. Yet, instead of fighting against it, he welcomed the embrace of the water like he welcomed his mother’s hold. He let the arms wrap around him firmly. Then gradually the snow cold changed to sunny warm and the heavy water he thought that choked him turned into fresh, light air.

And he fell in love rather quietly, but he fell in love deep. Then his heart started to move and twirl with the wind.

She was the whirlwind, and he was the windmill. She was wild, sturdy and destructive. When he waited motionless and steady for merely a breeze to touch his vane, she had brought him a storm.

And he got carried away with it.

“Why do you keep looking at that thing?” She asks one day when they are in his apartment and he stands in front of one of his shelves in the living room.

“It’s a windmill,” he explains, taking his eyes away from the scale model of it to focus them on her.

“I know that,” she says. The shelf is not that high, so she puts her hands on the edge of it and rests her chin on top of her hands. “I wonder if there is a specific meaning behind it.”

“Like what?”

She shrugs and blows, making the vanes of the windmill move slightly. “Like a memory or… a specific reason that only you know, but you don’t want anybody else to learn.”

He raises a brow. “Then why do you ask?”

“I am a curious one, you know,” she smirks. The afternoon sun highlights her eyes and plays with the colour of her short hair which ends just above her shoulders. Some strands of her brown hair shine a sweet red. It is tied slovenly behind with a little hairpin. “And I would like to learn about my boyfriend’s secrets.”

Right, boyfriend. Apparently, by some miracle or a dice tossed by luck or during a single second in which God or whoever had a tiny pity on him or because of a good-hearted, gentle and humane ancestor of his she had loved him back.

“There is no secret,” he looks back at the little maquette. There is really no secret behind it. He had made it himself about four or five years ago when he was still at college, studying architecture. It was just that with time it had gained a place more special and a meaning more solid and a presence heavier.

“Is that so?” she asks, raising her brows and smiling lips pressed, playfully. “Rest assured, I won’t get offended if it’s a gift from one of your earlier lovers.”

“I don’t have earlier lovers,” he deadpans, glaring at her sideways.

“What is it then?” She straightens and comes closer, dropping her chin on his shoulder. He spares a few seconds just staring at her inquisitive eyes, demanding answers. His heart beats calm, and he hears its pounds and feels its vibrations. Because of her…

Is the wind still your friend?

“I liken it to my heart,” he looks away, already regretting the words that left his mouth out of command.

There is a pause in the air and faint pink on his cheeks. “Oh,” she reacts at last.

He cannot move his eyes to her this time, as the silence stretches like a furry, tired cat and it nerves him with each tick-tock he hears from the watch that is hung on the wall. It lasts so long that in the end, he shifts uncomfortably, and Hanji lifts her chin from his shoulder, her eyes, clouded and thoughtful behind her glasses, are focused on the windmill.

“I see,” she says.

The next day she brings a propeller, almost the same size as the windmill and places it next to it. When she turns it on, the vanes of the scale model twirl slowly.

Then she looks at Levi who is standing still and astonished. The wind howls in his ears, and his heart beats unsteady because it faces the same storm again. Vicious, wild and free.

And she smiles because she knows.

Levi doesn’t exactly know or rather remember but they end up drunk as hell on one Saturday night.

They are outside, stumbling together towards the coast road where benches are lined up side by side. The air smells like early summer, with newly blossoming flowers and salt. There is a full moon above the sea, and it reflects argent on the surface of the dark, tranquil water. People walk by every now and then and there are stray dogs and cats around.

When they somehow manage to sit down on an empty bench, Hanji slips and puts her head on his lap facing the pitch-black sky. She giggles to herself as she watches the stars there are barely visible because of the city lights. “So pretty.”

“Hmm,” he approves, observing her relaxed features, coloured cheeks and the goofy grin on her face.

“Hey, Hanji,” he rolls out of her tongue. He doesn’t even think or plan on what to say. The following words just stumble their ways out of his mouth. “You are—did you know that I couldn’t drink tea without some honey in it?”

She moves her eyes to his and giggles again, covering her mouth with her hand. “Yes, I realized.”

“Oh,” he blinks as if it’s enough to scatter the clouds in his head. But— whatever. It doesn’t matter now. When he has the stars and moon above, the sea ahead and the girl he loves lying on his lap. “Don’t tell anyone. Nobody knows.”

She nods and draws an invisible zip on her mouth.

“You know why?” He pushes her glasses up her nose. “The reason why I can’t… drink it without honey?”

Hanji lifts her shoulders up. “Because it tastes like piss without it?”

“Yes.” He is a little surprised at her guessing it right.

“But Levi,” she laughs. “How do you know what piss tastes like?”

“I don’t—I just know.” He closes her mouth with his hand when her laughter keeps interrupting his sentences. “Shut up, idiot. You are ruining the moment.”

To his surprise, she wraps her fingers around his wrist and kisses his palm. He breathes and his stomach moves as if he was in a car and suddenly rode down a hill. She closes her eyes tightly once to indicate that she is listening.

“Okay,” he goes on. “So, I can’t drink tea without honey because it tastes like piss.” He inhales, despite his drunken haze. He probably won’t even remember—or will he? How drunk is he anyway? Oh, well. Doesn’t matter.

“That’s… how my life would be.” Miracles happen. While sober he would rather die than utter these words out loud. Maybe it’s a good thing that he is tanked up. Because she deserves to learn. “Without you.”

Her are eyes wide open, and Levi thinks there are galaxies hidden in them. He doesn’t know if there is anything that is infinite or a life that would last forever. Does forever even exist? Does the sky have an end or space a beginning? Humans are such incapable creatures. Cannot go back a day before or has no idea what will happen a second later. Hanji is a human being, flesh, bone, blood and a little too much brain, a little too many feelings, and sentiments. And she is not indefinite, at all. But somehow, she makes him feel like she is.

“Levi,” she says, pulling his hand away from her mouth. Her eyes are still big behind her glasses and her cheeks are even redder than before. “Does this mean you’re going to call me honey from now on?”

And somehow, she manages to annoy him with every goddamn chance she gets.

He frowns and pushes her shoulder, almost making her fall down the bench. She is bursting with laughter in seconds and wraps her arms around his waist to secure herself and buries her face in his abdomen.

“I’m breaking up with you,” he announces coldly.

“You cannot break up with me. We are drunk.”

“I can. I just did.”

“No,” she groans and presses her face deeper in his stomach.

“Let go, you ungrateful woman.”

“I caaan’t,” she whimpers. “Levi I—” The rest of her words are muffled; he cannot pick up their meaning and form a logical sentence in his mind.

“What?” He asks, bending his head down.

“I said, I loppffhhhppp…”

“I don’t understand what you are saying, Hanji.” He puts his hand on her shoulder to push her back. He is convinced at this point that she is not forming legible words, intentionally.

Unexpectedly, she withdraws and puts her hands on his shoulders to lift herself up. Then leans in to rest her head right beside his neck, nuzzling his skin. “We should go back,” she murmurs. “My place is closer.”

Levi has no idea what time it is when they miraculously manage to enter her house after a taxi drive which felt like years. They take unsteady and clumsy steps inside the house until Levi finds a door of which room, he is unaware of. He only looks for something to lay down on, then catches the sight of a couch with the limited light provided through the half-drawn curtains. He throws himself to it, without even bothering to take his jacket off. He only kicks his shoes out of his feet and tosses until he finds a comfortable position to sleep.

Hanji gets into the room a few seconds later. Levi watches her with half-lidded eyes and sees that she has a blanket in her hands. He frowns. How the hell had she had enough wits in her head to think of a blanket? But sleep weighs down on him incredibly heavy and so very unusually that he is almost scared to make it run away. He doesn’t have the strength the utter proper words at the moment anyway.

Hanji lies down on his chest, covering them with the blanket. He automatically wraps his arms around her as she presses her forehead on his neck. She whines. “I hope I don’t throw up during the night.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he mutters. The clean freak inside of him is alarmed and screams with worry and dismay. He has no voice though. Just a wide mouth open in a silent yell and eyes filled with apprehension.

“Would you break up with me if I did?” Hanji asks, and he feels her smile in her sleepy voice.

A moment of consideration. “No.”

She huffs out a drowsy chuckle. “Levi,” she murmurs and sighs. “I love, love, love you.”

Are you still afraid of something? Is it you who command?

“Idiot,” he says affectionately. The vanes of the windmill twirl ever so rapidly, and he considers how weird it is for his heart to beat, pound and feel for somebody else, for her only. “I love, love, love you too.”

The subway moves swift through the night and they are alone inside the compartment at this hour of the day. Levi watches their reflection on the window when Hanji takes a few photos with her phone. Grinning from ear to ear while Levi has a dead, worn-out look rooted deeply in his eyes. Travelling around the city to visit historical places, museums and parks within just one single day was the worst idea he had ever agreed to. He barely had the energy to merely sit.

“Gonna post these on Instagram,” she twitters happily, swinging left and right.

“Don’t forget to announce my funeral,” Levi murmurs.

Hanji snorts and locking her phone she puts it back in her pocket. Then she shifts and lies her head on his lap, staring up at him.

“Why do you always lie on my lap in public places?” He asks, looking down at her.

She shrugs. “I enjoy the view above.”

“Tch.” One corner of his lips quivers and he moves his gaze up, looking at the window across from him again. This time he realizes that there is heavy rain outside, the raindrops tap furiously against the glass. “Shit,” he swears tiredly. “It’s raining.”

She follows his gaze. There isn’t much before they reach their stop. They are going to soak to their goddamn underwears. It had been sunny the whole day. Curse his luck.

“Alas!” she sighs, but she doesn’t sound much concerned. “Levi,” she says then, and when their gazes are locked again, she beams at him. “Would you kiss me under the rain?”

He blinks down at her first, his heart stammering hard against his ribcage. His eyes examine her features carefully. “Would you like me to?”

“Yes,” she breaths. “I’ve never done it before.”

“Me neither.”

“How do you think it would be?”

“I don’t know,” he says. “I’ve never done it before.”

Her smile widens to display her straight, white teeth. “We should try it.”

“Maybe.” He watches her lips. They are a sweet shade of pink and they look maddeningly soft. And he wants to taste them so very desperately.

“Don’t worry. Nothing’s going to happen to your chastity.”

His gaze travels up to her eyes. “I am sure.”

It is still pouring rain when they leave the subway. Hanji leads them through the streets, with her fingers around his. He licks the rain on his lips and squints to get a better view of her. He smells wet asphalt and trees and earth. The odour of the pine trees is evident despite the rain. The splashing drops bounce on the ground like they are dancing up and down, but they slow down until they stop under a streetlamp.

“We should do it before the rain ends,” Hanji explains excitedly. As if what they were going to do wasn’t something basically everyone did but a life-changing, world-saving act of heroism.

Her lips taste like rain and they are warm against his own. When her hands cling to the collars of his jacket, he cups her cheeks and tilts his head. Much to their unfortunate luck, the rain almost ceases, turns into a drizzle that barely had any function of wetting anything. She smiles, but Levi doesn’t pull back for a little longer. Holds her gently, keeps her close.

Are you still afraid of the wind?

“Let’s dance,” she whispers against his lips. Her breath warm, her taste still on his tongue.

“There is no song.” And the rain stopped already.

She wraps an arm around his neck and holds one of his hands. He slides his other arm on her waist keeping up with her movements, while she rests her forehead on his temple. “We don’t need a song.”

They start to move slowly, following the notes of a song that doesn’t exist. The wind is blowing still, quietly. If he listens carefully, he can hear the pitter patters of the water dropping down from the rooftops, and the soft sounds of the wheels of the cars rolling on the wet ground, a plane taking off, a man coming back from work, his rapid footsteps. Tap, tap, tap. And his heart, content like he is lying down on the grass, with breezes caressing his face, ruffling his hair ever so slightly. Watching how quietly the vanes turn on top of a hill.

Oh, windmill.

You’re a place where I can cry.

You’re a place where I can lie.

You’re a place where I can die.

#levihan #levihanfic #fanfic #songfic #levi x hanji #levihan fanfiction

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askkrenko · 4 years ago

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Krenko’s Guide to Pokemon: Eevee Line

Part 1. Because seriously.

DESIGN:

Eevee was intentionally designed to be some sort of generic wild critter that could exist but doesn’t. Given traits of all sorts of small, furry things, the purpose of Eevee is to be cute, lovable, and evoke the feeling of ‘some animal.’ It is simultaneously known to everyone and completely unknown. Everyone recognizes Eevee but nobody actually knows what it is. Eevee is, above all else, THE ‘normal’ Pokemon.

And honestly, it’s totally freaking adorable. Eevee is the best rabbit dog fox kitty thing that ever was, and nobody doesn’t love Eevee. Its design basically couldn’t be better. There’s a reason this fuzzlewuzzle regularly competes with Pikachu for being the face of Pokemon. Sure, it can’t quite win, but it’s up there.

But the concept of Eevee is really the interesting one. Eevee was the first Pokemon with branching evolutions, and while other Pokemon have gotten such since then, Eevee has always had the most. Starting with three in Generation 1, there are currently eight possible evolutions of Eevee, and there could easily be more on the way. This puts the Eevee line in a really notable position. I always love when a Pokemon has a unique gimmick, and while in combat each Eeveelution might just be another, having an Eevee with so many options to choose from makes it an interesting Pokemon to obtain.

But before we discuss the designs of any evolutions, let’s talk about the non-evolved alternate form: Gigantamax. Like Pikachu and Meowth, GIgantamax Eevee is just a gimmick. The Pokemon’s not strong enough to be used, and Gigantamax Eevee can’t actually evolve, so it’s just there to be big and fluffy and cute… and it just fails at that. It’s not that Gigantamax Eevee isn’t cute- of course it is- but it’s not cuter than Eevee is normally, and the big bushy collar isn’t nearly as fun of a unique touch as Meowth being memes or Pikachu going back to its fat gen 1 design. Sadly, Gigantamax Eevee is a waste of everyone’s time.

And now onto the actual evolutions.

VAPOREON:

Vaporeon is an interesting and unique creature, with large fins on its head and small ones down its back and tail giving it the appearance of a fish, but still with a clearly mammalian mouth and legs. Vaporeon is clearly aquatic and clearly related to Eevee, but other than that it simply doesn’t look like anything. And yet Vaporeon still has a clear design and aesthetic, as something that could maybe possibly be something between a dog, a seal and a dolphin. It’s an elegant, clean design that looks fantastic without looking absurd.

JOLTEON:

Jolteon’s just yellow with spikes. It’s simple, but it works. There’s nothing weird about Jolteon’s design in the least, though admittedly that means there’s nothing overly special about it. Jolteon is just what happens when you take Eevee and make it cool, and other than the bright coloration there’s nothing particularly odd about it. One of the more subdued Eeveelutions, I like it, it’s cool, but I don’t exactly have specific praise for it.

FLAREON:

Flareon looks even more realistic than Jolteon. The red coloration’s a bit bright, but other than that it’s just a big ol’ floofy floof. The shape and color of its fur suggest fire, but unlike many fire types it doesn’t feel the need to actually be on fire. Like Jolteon, Flareon is a good, clean design.

It’s also noteworthy here that the first three Eeveelutions have big collars, like Eevee does. The rest do not. Honestly, I really like this part of the design, but I understand why not all would have it.

ESPEON:

The psychic evolution, Espeon’s purple colors are a bit more out there than the previous three, and my first instinct when looking at it is that it’s supposed to be hairless like a Sphynx Cat, but then it has those huge tufts on the side of its face that are clearly hair despite it not having tufts or even signs of fur anywhere else. They’re too high to be whiskers, too, so they just come across as weird. In fact, everything about Espeon is weird, and not always for the better. The split tail is a cool design, but I don’t understand what it’s going for. The jewel on the forehead I DO understand as a psychic focus, but it’s so obviously artificial compared to the previous Eeveelutions that it feels out of place. In fact, the core concept of Espeon feels a bit out of place. Most of the Eeveelutions are the result of stone or location radiation, and Umbreon happens at night. Espeon levels up in the day time with affection, and somehow becomes a psychic type. A psychic type whose pokedex entry calls the Sun Pokemon.

Eevee’s whole gimmick is that when exposed to weird stuff it transforms, so I have a hard time understanding why a happy Eevee turns into a psychic type during the day. If it was just about the strong bond with its trainer, why does the sun matter? And if the sun does matter, what’s going on with its everything?

Espeon ultimately just doesn’t work for me. It reads wrong as a creature and I don’t understand how it fits in with other Eevee lore.

UMBREON:

Okay, what’s up with those circles? Black fur I get. Gold stripes I get. Floofy tail, red eyes, sleek body, sure sure sure. I am totally on board with that. But those clean, obvious golden rings absolutely take me out of this design. I get that they’re supposed to be moonlight rings or something, but I’d have been much happier if this thing had golden spots instead of such clean shapes, to make it look more like a realistic animal.

As far as actually fitting though, it makes sense as a Night-based Pokemon, but the Moon thing is a bit more of a stretch. It’s not nearly as bad as Espeon and the Sun, but Eevee plus Moonlight should result in a brighter, glowing Eevee, not a darker, more sinister Eevee. Umbreon also has a serious issue of its abilities not being what it says they are. For example, the Pokedex says it’s got poison; Umbreon has never naturally learned a poison type attack. Its rings glowing is supposed to be one of its key features, but none of its abilities reflect that.

This isn’t to say that I dislike Umbreon or Espeon overall. Some of my favorite Pokemon have been Umbreons and Espeons. Their designs just really don’t sell the story that they’re trying to.

LEAFEON:

So, now this is more like what I’m talking about. Eevee + Moss Rock/Leaf Stone = Eevee that’s turning into a plant. It’s still an animal, but with its ears and tail and some of its fur turning into leaves so it can now photosynthesize. Also the leaf is a sword because that’s bitchin’.

Now, while I am totally on board with Leafeon’s concept, I do think the design could’ve used a bit of tweaking. The head and tail are great, but the little leaf things coming off the body look a bit odd, and I’m not really sold on the mostly tan color scheme. I think it’d have looked better with more browns and greens. Specifically, brown legs and belly, green back and neck. Maybe a leafy collar like the original Eeveelutions all had collars. Still, I like it overall.

GLACEON:

I don’t particularly like Glaceon. While it reads as an Ice Eevee it doesn’t read as an Eevee infused with Ice or adapted to Ice so much as it reads as an Eevee with design elements that look ice-like. The sharp diamond shapes over it don’t actually have anything to do with ice the way Jolteon’s spikes are the result of electric charge or Flareon’s floof looks like fire. Further, the addition of what is clearly a hairdo is just sort of weird. It’s too sharp to look like it comes naturally and while it makes for an interesting visual element it doesn’t mean anything or serve any purpose in the Glaceon itself. At least Espeon’s split tail was supposed to be for sensing things. Glaceon just has huge flaps that are definitely a disadvantage in a fight and don’t seem to serve any purpose other than possibly attracting a mate.

Glaceon is a solid design for a creature but not for ‘this is an Eevee mutated by the ice element.’

SYLVEON:

OH MY GOD WHAT THE HELL IS THIS ABOMINATION!?!?

Oh, it’s a cute fairy Eevee that’s pink and blue with ribbons and bows? You’d think so, and I don’t mind the color scheme for a fairy type but THOSE ARE NOT RIBBONS AND BOWS. Those are ‘feelers.’ Those are FLESH. Fur-covered, wriggly, boneless flesh.

This is bad. This is wrong. This is not okay.

This is not a fairy. This is an eldritch horror. Foxes should not have tentacles, and tentacles should not have fur.

And that’s not even getting into how much I hate Sylveon’s evolution method. Eevee evolves into Sylveon when it has affection and knows a fairy type move… but Eevee can just learn Baby-Doll Eyes on its own at level 15, so this isn’t a feat or anything special, it’s just a normal part of raising an Eevee. The worst part is that this is some weird new and special method to explain why you couldn’t have done it before, but the only actual change here is that Eevee didn’t learn Baby-Doll Eyes naturally before, so instead of something being discovered the world has just been rewritten to allow Sylveon to exist.

Because Sylveon is a monster from outside reality that has forced its way in here.

I hate Sylveon. I hate Sylveon so much. And to truly understand how much I hate Sylveon you need to understand that I love Eevee. I have two Eevee on my nightstand- named Artemis and Apollo after my Espeon and Umbreon from Gold and Silver. I make it a point to use Eeveelutions in every game, because I love them so much. One of my oldest RP characters was a Jolteon named Flash. On Halloween, I had one of my video game characters dress up as an Eevee to go to a costume party in an MMO. Which obviously didn’t have an Eevee costume so I had to assemble it. So my hate for Sylveon isn’t just ‘oh, this is an icky Pokemon,’ but I take its existence as an insult to Eevee, who I love so much.

You came to the wrong Eeveehood by Dakunart

TYPING:

What type do you want? Eeveelutions come in eight different types, each with their own strengths and weaknesses. But that’s Pokemon for you. And in the future we’ll probably get even more types. I just hope they have good designs and aren’t disgusting abominations.

STATS OVERVIEW:

We’ll talk about stats of Eeveelutions individually, but for now let’s note what they all have in common: numbers. Every evolved form of Eevee has a 130, a 110, a 95, two 65s, and a 60, for a total of 525 base stats, making for Pokemon that are highly specialized in some areas and very weak in others. This results in all of them having at least a decent stat array, except for Flareon, though whether their array is offensive, defensive, or more balanced varies.

Eeveelutions by Endivinity

MOVES OVERVIEW:

As with stats, we’ll discuss them for individual evolutions, but as they’re all evolved from Eevee they do share a large amount of their move pool. Eevee is notorious for learning Baton Pass naturally, a move so powerful and useful it’s been banned in many formats, and though it requires chain breeding, Eevee’s one of a relatively small number of Pokemon that can learn Wish.

Yawn, Substitute, Protect, and Rest all offer strategic options, and though not available in the current generation, Eevee could previously learn Toxic.

Actual attack forms for Eevee to learn pre-evolution are pretty limited, but an Eevee can learn Shadow Ball and Iron Tail, both of which have their uses.

Eevee does have a number of unique attacks, primarily from Let’s Go Eevee but also the Z-Move Extreme Evoboost. While all of these are viciously powerful to the point of being outright broken, Eevee’s evolved forms can’t learn them, and thus they’re not relevant in most competitive play.

Next time, we’ll start going down the list of forms and discussing them in the specifics. This one’s a doozy.

Eeveelutions by Lushies-Art

#Krenko's Pokemon Guide #Eevee #Jolteon #Vaporeon #Flareon #Espeon #Umbreon #Glaceon #Leafeon #Sylveon #Eeveelutions

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reapers-carino · 5 years ago

Text

Ife Mi

Five months had passed since that fateful night and each day had felt like blissful paradise and anxious agony. Akande Ogundimu’s face had been plastered on every news station, domestic and international, for a month after his escape. The news speculated over who broke him out, how or if he was involved in the death of the sketchy Venitian businessman Augustin Venturo, and what plans the man had since he had escaped. You, of course, had been interviewed by several different authorities; the Numbani Police Department, the Nigerian Armed Forces, and even Interpol. Each interview had ended in failure, however. There was no footage that showed the man at your compound of a home, nor was there any evidence, scenting or otherwise, that indicated that the man had even made contact with you in recent months. So after each individual interview, you ended up back at home, patiently waiting for the signal that you would soon be reunited with your mate.

Sighing softly, your eyes darted away from the news reel that scrolled lazily along the bottom of your vanity’s mirror and up to the picture from your mating/marriage ceremony and celebration. That had been one of the happiest days of both of your lives, the smiles stretched across both of your faces so genuine and gleeful. Akande and you were both dressed in rich, bright reds; your crimson gele and iro embroidered with hand-stitched golden flowers and hundreds of shimmering pearlescent beads. Your buba was a golden cream in color, the beading a softer pink in color with a neckline that showed off your collarbones and shoulders. Akande’s sokoto and buba were the same gold-cream color as your own, his agbada and fila a more masculine version of your gele and iro. You were tucked neatly against his side, his arm wrapped tight around your waist as the both of you stared into one another’s eyes as if you were the only two people that existed in the world. It had been a beautiful day, a mere few months after his accident and subsequent prosthesis installation. Your fingers trailed over the picture in the mirror, smiling melancholy before you remembered why you had initially sat down.

The shea and argan creme that you had been untwisting your hair with laid forgotten, half of your hair had been untwisted, the other half still stuck in those two strand twists that you had patiently plaited your hair into the night before. Dipping your fingers in the creme, you began the dance again; zoning out as you made your way through the rest of your hair. Carefully you pushed the twisted curls up using your fingertips, gelling down your edges and smiling contently as you wrapped a scarf around them.

“Wow...que bonito. But god that took forever”

Your eyes went round, grabbing the blaster pistol that was affixed to the underside of your vanity. There was no one in the mirror and no discernible scent in the air that your nose could catch onto. Jumping up, your vanity seat flew back, almost clattering to the ground as you turned, only to have the seat stop inches from the ground.

“What the--”

The chair slowly lifted up from its impossible hovering position before being stood upright once more. Pointing your gun in the general direction of the chair, your eyes darted left then right and left again, still unable to see who, or what, was in the room with you.

“You should be careful with where you point that thing.”

You barely bit back a snarl as you twisted to see just where in the hell the voice was coming from, confusion wrinkling your brow. It felt like she was mocking you, playing

“Hey calm down, I’m a friend.”

The voice practically purred from right next to her, a scarf appearing from thin air and dropping onto your chair. The scent slammed into you like a wall, knees wobbling briefly as your grip on the pistol weakened before tightening. Sunflower and nutmeg and amber with the delicious tinge of citrus, the scent of an impending rut wrapping so tightly around your senses you thought you might choke. Tears stung traitorously in your eyes as you slowly lowered your pistol, knowing there was no way anyone would have gotten such a strongly scented item from Akande without his permission.

“There you go…”

A woman glimmered to life in front of you; long, dark hair dyed and side shaven, warm brown skin accented by varying shades of purple, blue and indigo. The mischievous smirk that creased her lips gave you pause before she extended her hand to you, long nails--no gloves, perhaps both--gently scratching the back of your hand as you shook her’s.

“Akande sent me to pick you up”, she said nonchalantly, letting your hand go with a flourish of her hand, turning her back on you. “He said he’d come himself buuut, you know. The whole being wanted thing. Nice place you have here…”

“Who are you”, you asked incredulously as she walked around your bedroom as if it was her own, picking up pictures and objects curiously before placing them down and glancing over her shoulder at you once more.

“You can call me Sombra. So...you going to go pack? We don’t have all day.”

You had stood frozen as she galavanted around the room, before shaking your head as she directly spoke to you once more. This was not the time to freeze, it was finally time for you to unite with your mate and to never be separated from him again. You had packed a bag the night of his initial visit, a small one with a few outfits, your necessary toiletries and an encrypted photo album that held images from the decades you had spent together. You slid a few pieces of sentimental jewelry on before grabbing the bag from the closet and quickly snatching up the scarf. A low purr started in your chest, giving the scarf a gentle nuzzle and a quick sniff. Shiver rolling down your spine, you resisted the urge to close your eyes and lose yourself within his aura before your eyes found Sombra’s again. She looked like the cat that had caught the canary as she sauntered over, patting you on the shoulder sympathetically, you thought, before moving past you.

“Aw don’t look so shy”, she teased, the lilt of a barely contained chuckle in her voice. “It has been a while. Maybe you can help the big guy unwind.”

You could feel the flush climb up your cheeks and down into your chest but you refused to cow to this joker of a girl.

“That was the plan”, you hummed softly, following behind the younger woman as she began to walk out of the door, willing the burn of your cheeks to dissipate. “How do you intend to get us out of here unseen? If you hadn’t noticed, his escape has painted a very persistent target on my back.”

“Oh don’t worry about that”,Sombra dismissed, sliding down the banister and jumping off with a flourish of her fingers. This time they glowed, purple lines running from the tips of her nails up her arms and all the way to the weird contraption on her back. “I have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

Brow furrowing, you weren’t exactly sure you followed, but if Akande had entrusted your trip to this woman...then you would trust him.

“Alright”, you answered confidently, quickly making your way down the stairs and stopping behind her. Sombra held up her hand briefly making you stop short before pulling up a purple-tinted holoscreen. Her fingers danced across the screen, your eyes briefly catching sight of what had to be surveillance of your home from several different feeds before everything froze.

“There we go...okay, keep your head low and let’s go.”

Parked outside of your home was a hover vehicle with one of the gaudiest, obnoxiously loud logo for a supposed ‘DF Pizza Service’. The cartoon lion on the front was holding a ‘thumbs up’ with one paw and in the other it held a very gooey and cheesy looking pizza. You couldn’t help but balk, eyes slowly trailing over to Sombra who was climbing in the back of the van. She actually snorted when she saw your disgusted expression before sweeping an arm out and motioning for you to hurry up.

“Oh god you guys have the same expressions”, she snorted, her nose wrinkling up as genuine laughter bubbled from her lips. “Pobrecito...I promise it’s a short ride and then you’ll get to be in your big, strong Alpha’s arms.”

Her tone dripped with sarcasm before she completely moved back into the vehicle. Huffing softly, you reluctantly climbed into the back of the vehicle, praying that this trip was just as quick as Sombra had implied.

Your stomach rolled as Sombra helped you off of the holo-ship, whether from anxiousness or the turbulence the two of you had dealt with the entire ride, you did not know. After the delivery truck, the two of you moved between two different holo-ships before you were finally delivered to what you could only guess was their current home base. There was an unassuming small building directly in front of you, with a large piece of land attached but much too small to hold more than one or two people snugly. There obviously must be more but first you’d get your solid ground footing back.

“Welcome to Talon HQ”, Sombra said as both your feet finally touched solid ground, you actually squeezing both of her hands in appreciation.

She had loosened up during the ride, sharing a few pictures that had been taken over the last few months. Most of them were candid and goofy, meals being eaten together, awkward exercise angles and even a few face masks. She was a peculiar person but you did not know if you would deem her as a bad person.

“Thank you so much”, you said, taking one unsteady step then another, holding on tight to your bag. Your eyes searched the horizon for some kind of sign of Akande before looking at Sombra confused. You knew he wouldn’t miss a chance to greet you, absolutely knew it.

Tipping her head forward, she silently indicated that you should walk towards the building in front of you. Biting back a soft whimper of disappointment, you took several steps forward before it felt like you had walked through a bubble. Stumbling forward you keened as a scent that smelled of home suddenly slammed into you, strong arms wrapping about you to keep you from falling. Tears sprang to your eyes, your heart jumping into your throat as you tilted your head up and locked eyes with Akande, the soft smile on his lips making your heart soar.

“De”, you whined out, dropping the bag in your hand and throwing your arms around his neck. He lifted you up effortlessly, your arms squeezing even tighter around him, a hiccup of an overjoyed sob leaving your mouth. “Oko mi...I have missed you.”

He delicately crushed you to his body, tempering his strength but holding you as closely as humanly allowed. His scent poured over you as he nuzzled into your neck, ears barely hearing the soft words he murmured as he kissed the top of your head and temples and cheeks. Wrapping your legs around his waist you leaned back slightly in his arms, your hands coming up to cup his face to study it and recommit everything to memory. Those gorgeous high cheekbones and rugged jaw, those brown eyes that shone with absolute adoration for you, the lips that kept interrupting your focus by kissing you once then twice then thrice. You pressed your forehead to his, breathing in deeply to quell your tears.

“Ife mi”, he breathed as he placed both hands snuggly under your ass, pushing you up ever so slightly higher. Your eyes looked into his almost shyly, your heart fluttering like it had the first time you had kissed, the first time you had mated, like every time he looked at you. “I have missed you.”

The tears returned, calmer but just as meaningful, pressing one small kiss against his lips then another and another before you absolutely melted into him. Warmth burst in your chest, melting down your body and to your toes, pooling lazily in your core. You had missed the softness of his lips, missed the way he kissed you so tenderly as if he worshiped you with each one. Your thumbs rubbed slow circles against his jawline as you tried to pull him even closer, a harsh shiver rolling down your spine at the quiet growl that began to rumble in his throat. Oh gods how you had missed your Alpha. The hand under your ass began to gently massage at the flesh through your shorts, a muted whine caught in your chest as your legs tightened around him. His scent was intoxicating you, his hands and lips and torso making your body feel like it was slowly being pushed towards the sun.

Your lungs began to burn as they demanded air from you, pulling you reluctantly from the kiss, your eyes peering open as you breathed against his lips.

“Gods I have missed you”, you breathed out, pressing a quick brief kiss to his lips before you heard exaggerated gagging from behind you.

“Dios mio”, Sombra ‘gagged’ from behind, your head twisting to more or less pout at the other woman. Her hand was over her middle, making another exaggerated ‘puking’ potion, purple x’d out skeletons ‘falling from her mouth’. “Get a room!”

Rolling your eyes you couldn’t help the small chuckle that spilled from your lips at the ridiculous show, the soft scoff from Akande not going unnoticed by you. Turning back to him, his lips had tugged down in a slight scowl, inching up as you kissed his cheek.

“The suggestion is not a bad one De”, you murmured near his ear, pulling back with a shrug of your shoulder and a suggestive smile on your lips.

The scent of his incoming rut was near overpowering and while you wanted to talk with the man and learn of what he had been up to when you were apart, the need to lay with your mate was even stronger. He smiled at you, the expression smaller but just as meaningful as he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead before gently letting you down. You purred softly as you reached down and picked up your bag, Akande quickly taking the bag out of your hand and giving a soft admonishing sniff.

“What a gentleman”, Sombra teased with a half snort before beginning to take the lead, walking towards the set of buildings that you had completely missed.

The small, decrepit building had turned into a fairly large, stylish pre-fab of sorts; it looked more like a small apartment building versus any kind of ‘villainous compound’. The outside was a simple white, material you did not know; it stood three stories high, was fairly wide and windowless although you couldn’t tell how far back it stretched. You vaguely wondered if it was Vishkar-made, the sharp corners, clean coloring and material screamed their design. Squeaking softly, you chuckled as Akande tucked you into his side, his left arm wrapping around your waist to pull you close.

“Let’s go.”

You nodded happily, nuzzling into the side of his chest, practically chirping with excitement as he maneuvered you forward. He teasingly swayed with you as you walked, the man’s thumb rubbing small circles into your side, a quiet chuckle leaving your lips at the normalcy of it all the. Sombra led the way, walking backwards for a brief moment before scoffing about the ‘lovebirds’ and turning back around. As soon as the three of you made it to the compound, she held up a hand.

“Hold it”, she said, Akande stopping you from pushing forwards, eyes looking at the both of them in confusion.

Sombra pressed her hand to the wall next to the door frame, hand briefly glowing purple before a holo-screen appearing against the surface before an electronic voice requested biometrics.

“Welcome, please look or press hand onto the holo-pad.”

“There we go”, she said with a small smile before motioning at you, eyes sparkling with mirth. “Gotta add you into the system so the lasers don’t melt you.”

“Lasers”, you questioned as you took a half step foward, Akande’s hand still on your back, and pressing your left hand into the pad.

You flinched as you felt a small prick against your finger, brow furrowing as you looked back at Akande incredulously, receiving a headshake that said he would explain it to you later. Sombra gave a soft snort as the holo-pad gave a soft affirmative beep before the door slid opened, the small hacker walking through the door and not waiting to see if the two of you would follow behind. Akande’s arm tightened around your hips once more, pushing you through the door and leading you into the compound as the door closed with a soft hiss. For ‘international terrorists’, it looks like they lived very cozily.

The entryway had an open design, the sleek white of the outside giving way to black and white swirled marble flooring, two sets of black floating staircases leading to a second floor and a completely open kitchen. Overall it was very ‘modern’ but it wasn’t without its creature comforts. As Akande led you further in you were able to see the recessed living room area filled to the brim with various pillows and handheld gaming systems and a small table in the center had a basket filled with snacks from all over the world. The kitchen’s stainless steel fridge was covered in various magnets and notes with one ‘reminder-chore’ holo-board affixed to the top. You also noticed three different coffee machines, a tea kettle and a tea press along the counter as well as more instant coffees packets/pouches than you think you had ever seen. It appeared that those were Sombra, the petite hacker making her way to them and riffling through until she found one that fit her taste, smiling contently before she went to grab the tea kettle.

Curiosity tickled at your brain, but your need for privacy with your Alpha was stronger, Akande smiling as your fingers lasted with his as he began to climb the staircase to the right and you followed close behind him. The second floor looked extremely unassuming; a plush black rug running along the entirety of the floor, the only hint that there were rooms being the recessed rectangular biometric locks or handles that stood out against the bright white wall. Turning right, Akande went to the room at the very end of the hall, placing his hand against the door and ushering you in before locking the door behind him. You shivered, immediately blanketed in the scent home, the scent of your mate, your knees shaking as you took several steps further into the room.

The room was deceptively much larger inside than you would have guessed from the outside, rivaling the size of your master bedroom back at home. You smiled at the color scheme of the entire room, the rich golds and cremes and tans accented with pops of crimson and jade and deep mahogany. A bookshelf filled with physical books stood in one corner of the room, a large mahogany wardrobe standing on the opposite side, no doubt full of outfits tailored specifically for the well dressed man. Walking further in, you smiled at the limestone flooring under your feet, no doubt from the same stonemason in Ogun that had laid the floors in your home outside of Numbani.

He even had pictures sprinkled around the room; pictures of his parents and his family, pictures of just you, pictures of your mating-wedding day, pictures of his championship win. His gauntlet sat in a clear case, important but obviously not as much as all of the other imagery he had portrayed in the room. Spinning around, you grinned widely at your husband and mate, the man returning the look as he opened his arms wide. You carefully toed off your sandals before running across the room and launching yourself into his arms, Akande effortlessly lifting you up as you buried your face into his shoulder and breathed his scent in.

Your head spun as you were assaulted by his scent once more, sweet spices and citrus and that beautiful floral amber scent twisting around you, making you moan low in your throat. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, your hands gently traced up his spine as your lips dotted kisses against his deep umber skin, relishing in the subtle taste that was him. You had missed this, desperately so. Omegas weren’t meant to be separated from their Alphas so long, or at least that is what the romantic tragedies would have you think. They wrote of a gnawing emptiness that would ruin you spiritually, leaving you a husk of what you once were before destroying you physically. That or it could drive an omega literally insane and make an Alpha go feral. Of course those were nothing but old wives tales, old superstitions from a bygone time used to discourage breakups or separations. But with the way you clung to Akande, you had to wonder if there was a sliver of truth in the lie.

Your lips continued their journey, skipping over the tank her wore and kissing from where his neck and shoulder met, licking hungrily over his mating mark and smiling lustfully at the full body shudder that rushed through Akande. His hands tightened on your hips, fingers digging into your ass as he began to massage you gently through your clothes, a low rumble of desire starting in his chest. You chuckled breathily as you pulled away from his neck, littering kisses up his neck to his jaw until you could press your forehead against his. His ochre eyes bore into your own, hunger, desire and unbridled need burning a hole into you and sending fire straight into your core.

Akande growled possessively as he pressed a searing kiss against you lips, a low moan catching in your throat before you responded, your hands cupping the back of his head and pushing him closer. Your back arched as he nibbled lightly at your bottom lip, lightning passing from where you lips touched through your nipples and straight into your slick drenched cunt. His tongue gently lapped at your bottom lip asking for entrance, your lips parting instantly to grant him passage. You whined as your tongues mingled, the taste of his morning coffee still lingering on his tongue, clinging to him as he began to walk you towards the bed. Clawing at the back of his neck your toes curled as he explored every inch of your mouth with his own, stopping only when he dropped you unceremoniously onto the bed. Squeaking softly, you bounced off of the bed, Akande still standing and locking you in place with a smoldering stare. You felt so vulnerable and needy at the same time, your hands teasingly tracing up your body and squeezing gently at your breasts to further tempt the man into taking you.

“Please Alpha…I need you…”

Akande sharply inhaled as he pulled the shirt he was wearing up and over his head quickly, tossing it to the side and climbing onto the bed. The bed dipped as Akande trapped you between his knees, the man straddling you as his hands dove under the high cut tunic top you wore, pushing the fabric up and over your head. He wanted, no, needed to see you. His hands returned to your waist, his eyes locked on the rising and falling of your chest behind the thin material of your cup-less bra, your eyes turning up to gaze up at him docilely. His breathing hitched for a brief second before you turned your head to the left and tilted your head upwards exposing your neck to him once more, a silent plea for your Alpha to take you as his once more. Akande would not wait for another invitation.

His hands smoothed up your sides and over your breasts, crying out as he rolled both your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. Your hips rolled, arching off of the bed and towards him, whimpering needily as your hands shakily tried to reach back to unhook your bra. The fighter chuckled huskily his hands dragging away from your breasts briefly and yanking the material apart like it was tissue paper. Akande’s hands removed the torn fabric, cupping both breasts tenderly and dipping his head down, his tongue circling around your nipple and suckling hungrily. Stars danced in your eyes, a whimpering cry escaping from your throat as you grabbed the back of his head and pressed him closer. He dragged himself away from your nipple and to the swell of your breast, pressing hard kisses and nips to your heated skin, nipping at your collarbone and kissing his way up to your mark. Your nails dug deep into his shoulders as his lips crashed against your mark, a broken sob tumbling from your lips as his teeth grazed the spot that tied you to one another.

“Please…”

You cried out as Akande pulled away, tears springing to your eyes as you looked to him in confusion, the ferocity his rut making his eyes practically glow, only tempered by the man’s need for control.

“Not yet beloved”, he sighed softly against your lips, shaking his head and pulling back once more.

Akande, even when your heats or his ruts came to pass, was never one to succumb completely to his baser instincts. Whether the man’s decades of training or his own dedication and patience you did not know but he would do thing his way while satisfying the need that ached inside of both of you. Pulling away from you, Akande sat back on his knees and began to completely disrobe you, easily lifting your body up to pull the bra off and sliding your shorts and underwear off in one smooth movement. Quickly he pulled his own loose shorts and and boxer briefs off, tossing them to the side as he loomed over you. Your mouth watered hungrily as you stared as his twitching cock, the head ruddy and dark, glistening with pre-cum that you just wanted to taste. There would be plenty of time for that later.

You whined as he pulled away from you, your heart thundering in your chest as you suddenly felt abandoned again without your Alpha’s touch. A desperate whine began in your throat, hushed quickly when his nails gently scratched at your outer thighs. Your toes curled slightly, back arching as you pressed into his touch and spread your legs slightly, hoping to lull him in with the pure scent of you. His husky chuckle sent waves of pleasure through your body, your heavy lidded eyes staring hungrily, biting your bottom lip hard as your husband, your Alpha moved closer. Yes, this is all you had wanted, had dream--

“O-Oh…”

The gasp that tumbled from your throat was barely audible as Akande didn’t move his body between your legs but instead laid his full body down, his face hovering directly over your dripping mound. Akande gave you a smirk that you knew only a jackal could match before diving in, your back arching off of the bed. Your mate was relentless, his arms wrapping tight around your thighs; both to keep you from moving and to stop you from snapping your legs closed. A sob was wrested from your throat as his tongue licked the soaked lips of your sex, honey-sweet slick quickly dripping to replace it. He drank from you like a man who had found an oasis in the desert, your body quivering as each lap of his tongue and suck from his lips would tear you apart. He was so warm, the silken heat of his tongue making your stomach twist up tighter and tighter, frenzied and needy whines leaving your throat as your hands came to rest on Akande’s head.

You could practically feel him grin against your sex, relinquishing your thighs, one arm wrapping around your hips to lock you in place while the other hand pressed right below your belly button to stop you from grinding against his face. He was merciful, his hand massaging your mons as he suckled at your clit, sending you over the edge as you pushed him even closer to you. He released your clit quickly before he began to drink hungrily from you, making a show of it as finally pulled back. His lips were covered in your essence as were his chin, Akande licking his lips slowly before wiping your juices from his chin and sucking it from his fingers. He was still not done with you however, sitting fully up and on his knees.

Akande’s hands were searing hot as they grabbed your hips and lifted them off of the bed until they were lined with his shaft, your hands balling into the sheets as anticipation churned in your belly. Bending over your body, he held you with his forearm, his hand dipping between both of your bodies so he could line himself up with your entrance, your toes curling and calves tensing as the head of his cock rubbed up and down before slipping in. Sharply sucking air in, gracious tears burning in your eyes and blurring your vision as he slipped inside of you bit by bit, bottoming out with low grunt. Euphoric nirvana made your vision bleary, legs wrapping needily around Akande’s waist to pull him close as he began to thrust into you, arms lifting to beg him to lean down. You were so full of him, his scent potent and desirous, your mind driven to frenzied longing by how he had set all of your senses aflame. You needed him closer, needed to feel more of him, taste more of him, love more of him.

Akande obliged you, carefully leaning over so he didn’t slip out, your arms wrapping around his shoulders and moaning as he locked lips with you. Akande caught your cries against his lips as his hips pulled back and slammed back into you, his pace tempered but each thrust as ferocious as the last. Your nails dug into his back, lungs burning and stars dancing in your eyes as you finally broke the kiss, the slight taste of you mixed with him lingering on your tongue, turning your head away and gulping air into your lungs. Akande’s breath tickled the shell of your ear, the man’s head dropping next to your shoulder as his pace picked up, all of your nerves throbbing in tune with your quickening pulse.

“Ìfẹ́ mi…how I have missed you.”

His voice growled deep into your ears, a broken sob tumbling from your lips, your slick drenched walls tightening around him. He kissed your temple, the huskiness of his voice making your entire body tense and fall over the precipice of a small orgasm, twitching and crying out for him as your walls squeezed around him. A low rumble of desire started in his chest as he slowed for a brief second, pulling his hips back for a pregnant moment before slamming in, pulling a lustful scream of his name from your lips. You could feel him smile against your temple as his hips continued to pound into yours, kissing several times before his husky voice began to speak again.

“I have dreamed of hearing your voice everyday”,he purred low into your ears, your entire body shivering at the full body manipulation he was assaulting you with. “I’ve thought of nothing but your body beneath mine since we reunited. I have missed you my omega.”

“Akande”, you sobbed, your voice thick with emotion as tears rolled down your cheeks, a low and needy keen for the man humming in your chest.

The man nuzzled against your cheek until you turned your head and captured your lips again, his thrusts growing slower but grinding even deeper inside of you. Adoration and passion and re-attachment and bonding made your body tingle, the two of you breaking away briefly to pull in a breath before hungrily diving back in. Neither of you dared to close your eyes, immeasurable emotions being communicated through look alone, the pains of years long separations mending bit by bit. Despite popular belief and slander, Akande had always been a man that had been open and free with his emotions, tender-hearted, loving and caring.

His ochre eyes communicated a desperation and happiness that he could never put into words, fear and peace fighting in equal measure. Even without his words, you knew what he was feeling and how even in this most joyous occasion he was hurting because your heart ached identically. The two of you had been torn from one another unceremoniously; his attack on the museum had been planned but it going so awry without backup was not, a betrayal that hadn’t been forgotten.

Even after his trial and his incarceration, they were not allowed the basic right to visitations that mated pairs were supposed to had, the man treated more harshly due to his acts against Overwatch agents. The world’s sweethearts’ had pulled the cruelest of cards, keeping two living mated partners apart, denying all conjugal visitation or face to face communications. The physiological and psychological needs of mates was something that had been studied time and time again and the mental havoc it wrought on those that were denied one another ranged from mildly inconveniencing to completely debilitating. The both of you had prevailed fortunately and this is where the healing could get started.

Your hands dragged up from his back, cupping his face tenderly and rubbing at apples of his cheeks slowly, peppering dozens of smaller kisses against his lips. Akande’s eyes implored your own, gently bumping your forehead with his and pulling away to take a pant but never looking away.

“No one will take you from me again”, your breathed out, breath nary above a whisper before placing another peck against his lips. “Never again, Ọlọ́kàn mi. I swear it, Alpha. I will burn the world down to get to you…”

Akande’s eyes widened before they softened and calmed, the pure adoration making your body shiver harder as your heart raced. His hips picked up pace but he did not lift himself from you, him needing to feel you as much as you needed to feel him, his forearms bracing himself right above your curls. His lips crashed into yours, the desperation replaced by loving gratitude, your hands returning to around his neck as his hips began to crash into yours. He quickly devoured every desirous sound that left your lips, his own low, breathy moans mixing with yours. Pointing your toes, you locked your legs around his waist even tighter, whining as you pulled him deeper inside of you. You were drowning in him, so close to plunging into all that he had to give you, your body shuddering as you tightened around him. The man responded with a low grunt against your ear, your fingers splayed, feeling the muscles in his back begin to tense, his brow furrowing against your own as he drew in shaky breaths. Dragging your nails up his back you rested your fingers gently on the back of his neck as you turned your head and presented your mark to him your tongue darting out to barely reach his.

“Mo nifẹ ẹ”,you breathed out as your fingers curled gently on the back of his neck, inhaling sharply as you felt his lips graze your mark. His thrusts grew even more disjointed but stronger as he lost himself in you, you both absolutely intoxicated with the scent of the other, your love drunk words tumbling from your lips like a prayer. “Mo nifẹ ẹ, mo nifẹ ẹ, mo nifẹ ẹ. I love you Akande…ngh!”

The two of you fell apart in each others arms all at once, Akande biting into your mark as tenderly as he could when your walls contracted around him. Your arms wrapped tight around his shoulders, grounding yourself in his touch as the molten heat of his seed coated your walls, the man’s shoulders and traps tight as he tried not to drop all his weight on you, his hips still grinding against your oversensitive mound. Your entangled scents had completely filled the room; sunflowers and irises like the garden back home, sweet allspice and coconut and citrus wrapped with heady scents of amber and myrrh. Your head was swimming as he finally relinquished your shoulder, tongue gently lapping at the lazily bleeding wound as his knot began to swell inside of you, the man’s full lips kissing the side of your neck and your cheek briefly.

“Hold on”, he breathed against cheek, your body shivering as you gave a brief nod, legs and arms wrapping tighter around him as Akande grunted and flipped over. His knot didn’t budge as you cuddled into his chest, one of Akande’s hands resting on your lower back while the other gently moved to your hair, lightly pulling at the curls that had been flattened during all of the fun. “I love you, awẹ́lẹ́wà mi.”

You nuzzled closer into his chest, your energy absolutely spent but your soul feeling whole for the first time in years. The gods had brought you back to the love of your life, to your one in a billion connection and for that you would be eternally grateful, your mind absolutely positive Akande felt the same. His hands massaged slow circles up and down your spine as he continued to gently and carefully detangle your hair, your face nuzzling closer as sincere peace and love blanketed the both of you. You knew you would never let him go again, knowing he was meant to be in your arms and he in yours.

#doomfist #overwatch doomfist #doomfist x reader #Alpha!Doomfist #Alpha! Doomfist #alpha x omega #a/b/o #A/B/O dynamic #overwatch fluff #fluffy #overwatch fanfic #abo rut #marking

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00111001-00110000-00110000 · 6 years ago

Text

How do you even start a fic? I don’t know, it’s one of the wonders of the world. What I do know is I lost my mind over this bit of information. I just love doing this to Androids. It’s 3am.

@connorssock I never made a thing so damn fast.

Word had gotten around about a set of twins that had wormed their way up the ranks of the DPD with amazing speed, even the SWAT team had been interested enough to be following the whole shebang all the way up to it’s explosion in the form of a revolutions for all things blue blooded and shiny. And frankly the whole of the team had been quite okay with this especially for their new LN300 buddy, Allen.

The team had kinda hoped that, in the following weeks as things calmed down, he would be following along with other deviants and trying out what it meant to be alive. But no such luck it seems.

Not when Dumont tried to bring him out to the park to play with dogs, a suggestion brought on by the new HK800. Not when Sock brought him thirium based treats hoping to spark a sweet tooth. Would it be called that? And Spirit really did try hard with nudging the Android to try music at the very least, hoping it would hit something. Nothing.

It’s not like they had any issue with him or anything, he was fine enough. But he could also be intimidating and had a stick up his robotic ass so big it might as well be a tree. But everyone relented at a point and just let Allen exist how he saw fit for now, and if it was a hard ass SWAT bot then so be it.

It wouldn’t be until a month later that a new member was brought into the team, Niles making the change from his previous position to SWAT with high recommendation. Each of the team greeted him with proper back clapping and a name, a gift from Sock and Dumont being a shit with a party popper. That was when Niles got to meet Allen as the LN popped him in the back of the head.

“Can’t forget ol’ Allen here~!” Chimed another of the team, arm slung over the Bots shoulders. if Allen was annoyed or not, no one knew but he never shrugged them off. Never understood why they cared to lean on him for that matter.

With a almost comically stiff nod the LN held his hand out, stone faced as ever. “It is good to meet you, Mr. Stern.” His LED flickered a moment, haven't not expected to... look up quite as much. Especially not under such a scrutinizing look.

Despite the look Niles gave he gave a firm handshake, cool but not off putting. “Wonderful to meet you as well, heard about the things you have gotten into.” And he had, he was a damn good SWAT member and a monster of a shot. What Nines hadn’t expected was that... the bot was a bit shorter than he expected. He didn’t say this out loud though.

The whole event with the new SWAT member, Stern, had been all but forgotten by Allen at the days end. Perhaps not forgotten but ignored as unimportant for the time being, as more pressing issues became relevant. More training and team building -something the LN never thought much of- taking up most of their time between being out on a call and paperwork. Everything got so much busier with the androids and the occasional shenanigans with the lieutenant and what some in SWAT dubbed his “bara bot” for some unholy reason.

Allen really wishes they would stop calling him that.

The whole team, which as this point shouldn’t be called SWAT but Fam or something according to some of the them, had all gotten far more used to Niles as had the Android. He could only be glad that he wasn’t as rambunctious as some of the others, putting some of his possessors at ease both in the office and the field. Allen knew of the shit that sometimes happened with his brother and good lord no.

While there was little talk between the two, they spent a lot of time around each other, much like silent companions comfortable in their quite. Though there was one thought that Niles finally brought up one day to Allen.

“You know, when I heard so much talk about you I hadn’t expected to be able to loom over you.” It wasn’t so much a jab, but a curiosity. If anything Allen could almost call it fascination. It had been a long while since someone commented so he was not the least bit bothered. Not that he could be.

“Talk tends to exaggerate and paint false ideas of someone, it is better to get accurate information before jumping to conclusions.” Clipped as always but he wasn’t surprised that it didn’t deter anyone. Others might be wary but SWAT itself knows him far too well for their own good.

One of the other men laughed, nothing mean, just the warm affection that tend to float among them. “Ah it just makes him harder to hit, also catches people off guard.”

The LN300 wondered if he would have been fustrated if he were deviant. But he was sure he wouldn’t be mad, not with how he knew they were just teasing and not with how Niles smiled about it. Hu, he wondered what that was about.

Sometimes during noon a few days later the whole lot of them had gathered around Niles’ desk to talk about something, not that the LN was listening as it had nothing to do with work. The chatter got more excited over the coarse of ten minuets as they seemed to be asking the man question after question about something.

“Well it is his activation day...”

“I thought what counted was the deviation?”

“Still, we can at least do something, right?”

“What can you even do when you got nothing to base it off of? Niles? Any ideas?”

Activation day? Allen only found himself slightly curious, as much as his program would allow, as to what was going on. Whatever it was must not have been important as when he approached the conversation stopped. Lost but happy is what he would call it, the looks on their faces. “Hey Al, sorry, was trying to figure out what to do for a birthday....er... activation day.”

So that is what this was about then. He could only give them a deadpan look for a moment before shaking his head. “Perhaps it’s better to just ask them then make the mistake of guessing.” It seemed logical enough, maybe not a surprise but still.

There was a pause as the quiet settled with the idea, glances shared between them as they came to their answer. But before they could give theirs Niles stood suddenly, seemingly coming to his own answer and was rounding the table in seconds.

“Well then, perhaps you can help.” He stopped before the android, smirking a bit like a cat. “What does a little android like you want for his activation day?”

Allen could almost feel his face twitch at that comment. “Mr. Stern, first off i’m not “little” and second activation days are for deviants. I am not interested, I have work to do, as do all of you.”

Thinking the conversation was over he almost missed the gleam of mischief in those wonderful blue eyes, but as soon as he noticed he let out a noise, finding his feet no longer touched the ground but the solid warmth of the human above.

“Hmm No, I think you are more funsized.”

There was a pause of shock from Allen, so many things to take in about what was going on. The laughter of the others behind Niles, the fact someone even dared do this or the comment. It was so strange, he never had warnings of overheat outside of a mission and yet here he was, cheeks lighting up and warning popups all over his hud.

It was like his face was on fire, but without the fire this time. The heat from his embarrassment burning and melting the red wall of code and instruction telling him to get loose of this so fast he almost didn’t notice it. Just the red clearing for a cooling blue.

As Allen swat at Niles’ chest, the human laughed, smiling down at him. “I guess my question stands then, what would you like for your activation day. Seeing as it’s applicable now.”

Still flustered Allen crossed his arms. “.... If you must insist on this, then we go to an android friendly bakery. And you are not to put me down till the car.”

#detroit become human #Captain Allen #RK900 #Reverse AU #Dbh #Text #MyWriting #900 #Allen #Because I love this fucking SWAT daddy #I got the same thing going on as Allen #So imma poke him for it #Also I'm late to his bday fuck #Happy bday you sexy ass bastard #Let me crack that cadbury egg swat gear for the sweets inside 👀#Would half of this be considered a shitpost?#I'm the same with Allen so fight me i'm going to make this joke

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luninosity · 5 years ago

Text

feettootie said: WHIP IT OUT WHIP IT OUT WHIP IT OUT

...you want me to what, now.... :D

Also, did I say 6k of Demon bonus story? I meant like 12k now.

The aging bones of the balcony gave way. The theater broke. Supports cascaded, imploded, burst.

Bodies fell. People. Screaming.

Justin ran another step forward and flung out both hands.

Six or seven people—Kris couldn’t think fast enough to count—winked into demon teleportation magic and back out: safely on the ground, at a good distance from the shrieks of the crumpling building. Brimstone briefly scented the air.

“Justin—”

“I need to focus—” Justin caught a few more. Yanked them out of disaster and over to solid landings. “Ow—oh, damn—I’m going to have the world’s worst headache—”

“How can I help?” Hand on Justin’s arm. Security’d run out from the wings. Trying to get the band, the stars of the show, to safety.

The collapse hadn’t hit the stage. Only that side balcony. And Justin wasn’t going anywhere, which meant Kris wasn’t either—

Justin saved people. Justin was beautiful, a demon with crackling power at fingertips and incandescent eyes and streaming hair. Kris spared a single second to be entranced by him. Shouts of alarm rose up around them; sound equipment and speakers clattered; bodies in the pit and at the floor level swelled with apprehension, forming mobs, trying to exit or find companions or give assistance.

Hadn’t any building inspections happened? Any precautions? How’d a whole theater come apart so instantly? Needing one demon to catch so many people, dozens of people—it’d been an intimate venue, so not hundreds, but Justin had once needed a snack after rescuing a girl’s lost chubby cat—Justin was pretty damn far from inexhaustible—

He tightened his grip on Justin’s shoulder, on stage. They stood out in front as another section of balcony, pulled by its neighbor, groaned and wrenched itself downward. “Tell me what to do!”

“I’ve got most of them—” Strain laced Justin’s voice, eyes, pale face. Crimson and ochre rippled through his hair, his gaze; his teeth and horns and cheekbones sharpened. Less human, more demon, more himself: semblances peeled away by power and stress. “I can do more—just keep everyone calm—”

The first sweep of people groaned, sat up, checked themselves over: intact and awed. Justin’s summoning gifts whipped falling debris away, flung theater fragments into thin air and subsequent reappearance safely on the ground, and reached out to cradle trapped concert-goers and pull them out of crushing spaces.

Kris stretched out empathy. Fought to broadcast calm, reassurance, a lack of panic. Projection hummed at his fingertips, at the core of his existence, in familiar woven strands of green and brown and melody and London and New York and guitar-strings and fire like shooting stars. He’d always been good at throwing his passions out into the universe; right now the universe—and his demon—needed him to believe that everything would be okay.

So he did. He believed it hard. And he let the soothing fall like a weighted blanket over distressed shouting crowds.

Sirens sounded. Emergency relief. Assistance. Kris, holding the fear of thousands of shaken fans in one empathic hand, turned to his husband.

Who breathed, “This is the last—there’s no one else trapped—” as two more bodies materialized away from the rubble. “They can check to be sure but—I think—that’s it—it won’t collapse any more, I moved everything that felt dangerous—”

“You’re incredible,” Kris told him, stepping closer, reaching a hand out to touch him. A few people, grouped in a knot of rescue at the base of the stage, began applauding. They’d all seen what Justin had done. “You’re brilliant, love—I thought you had limits, I didn’t know you could do that much—”

“Yes…well…” Justin’s face was white, Kris realized abruptly. Fire-hair had grown duller. Eyes more brown than glittery cinnamon. “I can’t, actually…”

“You what?”

“I do have limits,” Justin admitted, a ghost of usual teasing; and then put a hand up to touch his face, and looked surprised, swaying.

Red, Kris thought, though the thought did not take shape for a horrified blank second; but the red was blood and not fire, because Justin’s nose was bleeding, and Justin’s eyes were closing, and Justin’s whole body gave way all at once, collapsing into Kris’s arms—

No. No. Kris felt the scream like a whip-crack across the night, searing its way out of his soul.

He heard gasps, and a few cries and moans; he grabbed the empathic projection and held on tightly, metaphorical magical hands shaking. Justin would tell him to get it under control; Justin saved people; Justin wouldn’t want anyone else hurt…

Justin was hurt. Limp and white and unresponsive in Kris’s arms. Justin’s head fell against Kris’s shoulder; his eyes did not open. One hand dropped to the stage, and lay there.

The stage where he’d just been standing—alive and upright, on both feet—in that rock-band t-shirt and skinny black jeans, the same ones he still had on, laughing and waiting for Kris to pull him into an encore, a song, full of anticipation—

Dark ruby stained the pale blue of that shirt. Justin’s hair and cheekbones and even fingertips were simply human: magic emptied out, leaving ordinary nails without lightly pointed claws, and the regular ginger sort of human hair, pale red and wavy and lifeless. He’d dyed it all sorts of colors, once, when not letting the fire peek out; Kris had loved the discovery, when they’d first tumbled naked into bed, that Justin was in fact more or less a redhead.

Right now Justin was more human than Kris had ever seen him: burned out, drained, younger and fragile. He lay in Kris’s arms without moving or opening his eyes; he was breathing, chest going up and down, but he did not react when Kris clung to him, pleaded with him, called his name.

A burst of materialization and brimstone scorched the air. Three slim pillars of flame crackled into existence and resolved themselves into three of Justin’s aunts, all sparks and teeth and claws and hissing. A paramedic who’d started toward the stage froze in place; the rest of the band had been hustled away by security, leaving instruments, being taken care of.

Kris and Justin, in a tangle of stunned limbs and bodies, had landed on the stage; Kris cradled Justin, shook him, tripped over love and anguish and words. “Justin—Justin, love, wake up—open your eyes, love, please—please, stay with me, look at me, Justin, please—”

All three demons threw themselves down beside their nephew on the scuffed stage; Aunt Raissa’s glamorous blue evening gown tore in a rip of silk. Aunt Mara, who tended to be the spokesperson, commanded, “We’ll handle this—” and spun to face Kris. On both knees, in jeans and a sparkly green shirt, wearing fire in eyes and voice and claws, she grabbed Justin’s unmoving hand and defied the apocalypse with pint-sized familial ferocity. “What happened?”

“He—”

“He saved them,” Mara said over him, “didn’t he? Oh, stupid, stupid ridiculous human heart—oh, Justin. Come on, come on, pet, wake up. Wake up for us.”

“We felt it,” said the third of Justin’s favorite aunts—he had around fifty, though only three or four had taken an active interest in raising the half-human child of the sister who’d died in the human world—and looked up, uncertain. Kris had only met Ylse perhaps three times; he knew she liked human soap operas and romance novels and lacy sundresses. Right now her eyes were bright and scared. “We felt him, clearer than ever, like he’d reached over and touched our world, like a portal—and then we couldn’t feel him—Mara, he won’t wake up and I think he’s feeling worse…”

“He saved everyone.” Kris could barely talk. Clutching Justin. While demons knelt and touched bare colorless skin and made little fire-flares crackle in the air. “He…I know he’s…he’s only half…not as strong…”

Justin had saved people before. That cat. A baby. Five residents of a burning apartment building, once. He’d admitted to Kris that that’d been hard; he didn’t have boundless resources, he was part human, and his human body wasn’t built to channel that much otherworldly power. He’d fainted in an alleyway, he’d admitted, after rescuing the people; he’d awakened with a splitting headache.

But Justin wasn’t human, and could—

“He can heal.” Kris looked from aunt to aunt, demon to demon: all of them clustered over Justin, here in a dust-filled theater full of despair and voices and aftermath. “Can’t he?”

They exchanged glances.

“What?”

“He might be able to,” Mara said slowly, “but I think Ylse’s right and it’s hurting him…using any of it, right now…”

“What does that mean?”

“It means,” said Justin very weakly, “that everything hurts. Oh, gods…oh, Kris…” His eyes opened, beautiful as ever, but his voice trembled; Kris held onto him, held him, wanted to weep with relief and terror, and couldn’t. Justin had already started to cry, not from fear but as if hurting too badly to hold it all in; that realization spun Kris’s emotions into dazed white-hot blankness.

He got out, “You’re alive, love, you’re alive and I’m here, you’ll be all right, I swear, I’m here and I’ll take care of you, I love you,” and stroked a wisp of hair—light red, tired, whisper-soft—out of Justin’s face, and tried to demand answers from some demons with his expression.

“Justin?” Mara, sitting beside Kris, touched her nephew’s wrist. “Come on, pet, look at me. I know it’s hurting, I know, just look up for a second…” Her voice murmured like velvet, like roses, like coaxing: worried and soothing with the edge of centuries-long practice at temptation and seduction.

Justin caught breath, shivered, held on to Kris, but looked at his aunt. They gazed into each other’s eyes for a moment: more human than usual, meeting the more otherworldly.

And then Justin flinched, and tucked his face into Kris’s shirt. Kris pressed a kiss to the top of his head, held him more proprietarily, and demanded, “What was that?”

“Not good,” Mara said.

“I’m all right,” Justin said into Kris’s collarbone, shaky.

“Love,” Kris said, “you’re not. Don’t worry about reassuring us or what the fuck ever, don’t worry about anyone else, understand? Just take care of you.”

“That’s part of the problem.” Justin swallowed, struggled more upright, took a breath. He remained terrifyingly weak, weight wholly resting against Kris’s bulwark; he hadn’t tried to sit up on his own. Drying blood streaked his face and the world with awful hues. “I can’t heal. I can’t even shift aspects…if I try, everything hurts so much…I did try, just now, and it was…I couldn’t…” He shivered more. Shook his head, silenced by pain; he leaned against Kris more after, exhausted.

“So you’re not all right.” Kris tried to keep his voice even. He was dying, screaming, falling apart—but he couldn’t, he couldn’t, because Justin was leaning on him and he needed to stay strong and even-keeled and secure, a rock-solid old empath who couldn’t even protect the man he loved…

“I’m…” Justin paused to breathe some more. “I’m not getting worse. I think. I’m still here. But I feel…everything burns…it’s like fire, inside, and even more if I even think about…” When he held up a wobbly hand, he looked at it as if expecting burn-marks, trails of scorched black, seared lines along veins and bones. “It’s too much…”

The aunts shared a moment, then looked at Justin. Aunt Raissa said, with the presence of mind of someone in a long-term relationship with a United States Senator and consequent awareness of the media, “We should get you out of here before anyone tries to study you and the effects.”

“I can’t teleport,” Justin said. “I can’t…”

“Not you, pet.” Mara patted his shoulder. “You can’t do anything right now. None of your human doctors can. No offense, Kris.”

“If you can help,” Kris said, and stopped, as tears skewered his throat.

“We’ll take you home,” Mara said. “Both of you—” And as she said so the world blurred, became watercolor and fire, a swirling pool of cinnamon and garnet and primrose streaks.

The streaks eddied, ebbed, stabilized. Magic jerked at Kris’s body, at Justin in his arms.

They landed in his and Justin’s penthouse apartment: in the living room, in fact, right next to the sofa, with an unnerving degree of precision. Aunt Raissa, sitting on a couch-arm, said, “Oh, Mara—poor pet, look—”

Justin had gone quiet again, lax in Kris’s arms; Kris, released from demon-magic, moved to set him on the sofa, saw Justin’s shut eyes and the loll of that head—

“No. No, Justin, come on—please, love, I love you—”

“Still here,” Justin breathed, without opening his eyes. “That hurt…even feeling it hurts…scratching…so sharp…”

“I’m sorry, pet.” Mara perched on their coffee-table, scrutinizing her nephew’s face. “I thought you’d rather get home as fast as possible. Away from any human poking and prying. Did it hurt too badly?”

“No…it’s just everything…” Justin’s expression crumpled into pain. “I’m so tired.”

“You can rest now.” She touched his cheek; her expression held another emotion for a moment. Kris, watching, remembered that Justin’s aunts had lost a sister as well, when Justin’s mother had died. “Rest. That’ll help most.”

Justin nodded a fraction, lying prone on the sofa, head eased into Kris’s lap; Kris loved him and wanted to make this never have happened and wanted to tear the world apart if it’d ease one second of Justin’s pain.

He stroked Justin’s hair some more. He made his own breathing steady. No pressure. No pushing against raw sensations. Only projecting good emotions: comfort, warmth, affirmation. Tenderness. Love.

Aunt Ylse handed him a blanket. It was the one from their bed, a colorful knitted enormity that Justin’s middle siblings had made during the year they’d decided to learn to knit. Kris did not bother to ask how she’d pulled it out of sheer nothing in their living room; full-blooded demons did not have many limits.

Justin had limits. And was lying very still, head pillowed on Kris’s thigh, breathing ragged but evening out somewhat. He might’ve been sleeping, though he wasn’t, quite; Kris knew how Justin felt when cuddling sleepily in the mornings. This was more frightening.

He didn’t have his mobile phone. It’d been in the dressing room backstage. Justin’s, in a pocket of those skinny jeans, kept making buzzing sounds. Kris tugged it out, tossed it at the table, knew the news stories that’d be erupting, and ignored them.

Too big to think about. Too enormous.

Justin hadn’t moved, maybe soothed into some form of drowsing by Kris’s petting and wholehearted love. Kris could rub his temples forever. Anything. Everything. If it’d make even the smallest difference.

He said, keeping his voice low, “Is there anything I can do? Anything you can do?”

“Us? I don’t know.” Mara ran a hand through her hair, rumpling fire; Kris hadn’t seen her look so weary ever before. “It’s essentially a form of magical burnout. You know how that works, yes?”

He did. Even human magicians got that: too much power, overuse, brilliance poured into channels unready to contain it…sometimes the backlash took the form of a simple headache, but it could also mean permanent damage, a burning-out of those channels, ongoing agony or even insanity or death…

She must have seen his face. “It’s not that bad. Or I don’t think so. But what he did…he shouldn’t’ve been able to do that.”

“He can do more than—”

“You don’t understand. He’s half human. He shouldn’t have been able to do that. To catch that many people, to keep pieces from crushing them…everything we know about the children says he shouldn’t be that strong.”

Kris, who’d seen Justin conjure up pizza and carry an inhuman amount of books with one hand, did not have an answer. He did not know enough about demon physiology; no one did. Especially not rare, once-in-a-century hybrid types. Like Justin.

Mara drew a breath, let it out. “He can’t heal magically because everything hurts. Overloaded. Especially our sort of magic.”

“Demon power,” Ylse said. “And it’s dreadful, because…”

“…because we could heal him,” Raissa finished. She’d kicked off her high heels, and swung a leg; she looked anxious too, barefoot and tense under blue evening wear. “We could do all sorts of things…feed him power, if it was just straightforward energy depletion, or bring him properly home…”

That meant the otherworld, the demon planes, out of the human realm; Kris couldn’t even argue about their taking Justin someplace his human lungs couldn’t follow. “Would that help?”

“I’d say yes—he’d be less human, less vulnerable, more himself—but not with this.” Mara frowned. “Everything in there feels too torn up…too broken…completely surrounding him with our power might hurt worse…”

“Then no.” Kris left a hand resting in Justin’s hair, and let the world shake at the edge of an empath’s anger. “Not unless you’re sure it’ll do something.”

“I think it won’t. Not yet. He needs to heal enough that those channels can hold at least a little power, again. I think right now he’d start screaming in pain if we tried.” She bit a lip; her teeth were more pointed than Justin’s, though they did not draw blood. “He’s not going to die. He will recover, I think…this doesn’t feel permanent to me…but it won’t be instant.” Her eyes, older for a moment, rested on Kris, who loved her only nephew. “He’ll be human for some time. I don’t know how long. He’ll be in pain for…some time, too.”

The universe cracked and quivered. Their sofa and coffee-table and rug yearned closer in anguish. Kris’s heart clenched around itself—around an absence of Justin—unhappily.

“Keep him warm,” Ylse said softly, and rested a hand on Justin’s ankle, over blanket-folds. “Keep him quiet, and calm, and protected.”

“I can do that,” Kris vowed. “I can do that.”

#feettootie #replies #a demon for midwinter #bonus scenes #fic in progress #a demon and his rock star

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wanderingalicewrites · 5 years ago

Text

So Much Discounted - Chapter 8

Genesis - I

(Also on AO3)

He landed hard in a puff of sand. Blinking in the suddenly bright light, Aziraphale sat up hoping very much that this landing-on-his-ass thing wasn’t about to become a habit. The creature squirmed around his arm, wriggling up from where it had landed at his side, half buried in the sand. It shut all but one eye tight against the light and tried to burrow into Aziraphale’s shoulder.

“There now, it’s alright,” the angel said, drawing the creature up until it could curl itself around his neck, much like Crowley sometimes did when he took on the smallest version of his serpentine form. “We’re in one piece at least, though where we are is a bit of another question.” Before him, as far as his eyes could see, was a vast desert. Nothing but blue sky, the occasional cloud, and miles upon miles of sand. Next to him, the mirror glinted on the ground, reflecting the sun in the open sky. Oddly, when he picked it up it failed to show his own reflection. Instead he saw only the creature, and, behind him, a solid sandstone wall.

He turned then and stared. The shadow of the great wall fell just short of the toe of his shoes, expanding out until it reached the base of an enormous structure many thousands of feet high. Aziraphale looked up. And up. And higher still, until his eyes fell on a distant walkway high above. He knew that walkway. Just as he knew the elaborate structure a few meters down the wall. It was the Western Gate to Eden, directly opposite the place he had once been set to guard. This, somehow, was the Garden of Eden. Which meant that this desert was not just any desert. It was the sands of Creation itself.

The Western Gate stood firmly closed, locked as tight as it ever had been. There was no sign of its guardian, nor anyone else either. Aziraphale approached the wall, and found the outer stair right where he expected it. He had half assumed the whole thing would vanish like a mirage, but the stone was rough and warm under his hand and held firm when he cautiously leaned against it.

Around his neck the creature whined. When he glanced at it, he saw it reaching up towards the top of the wall.

“You want to go up?” he asked it, and got a whine in response.

“Alright then. Up is as good a direction as any, I suppose.” And if he reached the top, he might be able to get a better view of where they were. Carefully, he put one foot on the first step - still afraid the whole thing would vanish beneath him. It didn’t, so he took another. The creature hummed, vibrating, and staring ahead with several dozen eyes.

At the top, the stairs flattened out into the long familiar walkway that encircled Eden. It looked just as it had that day over six thousand years ago, when he and Crowley had stood upon this very stone and watched the first rain begin to fall. Remembering that day, Aziraphale felt his wings twitch in that place between worlds where he hid them away with the other, more frightful aspects of his appearance. It had been so long since he’d truly had a chance to stretch them, and that bit at the end of the world didn’t count. He’d been too preoccupied then to really pay much attention to them. He unfurled them now, calling them into being with a thought. The relief was immediate, in that marvelous and slightly uncomfortable way like standing up after having been seated for far too long a time.

“Oh, that does feel better,” he sighed to the creature, flapping his wings gently to dislodge stray feathers. The creature stretched out a tendril and plucked a floating feather from the air, bringing it close to one golden eye to examine.

Aziraphale himself turned to examine the view. On one side of the wall was the desert, just as he remembered it. Vast, endless, and empty. Occasional movement in the distance suggested the beasts that had been released by the war still roamed the sands. He shuddered, and hoped they did not find a way to climb the wall. He had no sword now to fend them off with, after all. Nothing with which to protect the creature, or the mirror that was all that remained of Crowley’s soul.

Putting that thought out of his mind, he turned again to the other side of the wall. And there was Eden, in all its glory. It was just as beautiful as it had once been, before God had removed it from the earth. Vibrant greens and deep earthy browns, broken by the occasional bright pop of color from every type of flower under the sun. Birds of every sort flitted within the branches, singing a counterpoint to the soft babbling of a waterfall Aziraphale could hear even from this great height. It was, as it had always been, magnificent. The loss of Eden had been the hardest blow for Heaven at the end of the war. It was ironic that he found it again now, here, in the last remains of Crowley’s shattered soul.

“What now?” he asked the creature, when he felt he had stared enough for now at the beauty spread out below him. It rippled in what might have been a shrug, blinking at him with several sets of eyes. It still held his feather in one tendril, waving it slowly in the air behind his left shoulder.

“The was your idea,” Aziraphale reminded it. “You wanted to come up here.”

The creature hummed, then pointed with the feather, further down the wall.

“You want to go that way?” he asked, and it hummed in response.

“Alright then.” Aziraphale resettled it securely across his shoulders, and set off down the wall. Eventually he passed the Northern Gate, and found it just as solidly shut as the West. The creature showed no interest in it, or descending down to either side, so he continued on. As he did so, he thought. This couldn’t possibly be the real world. For one, his connection to the universe felt… muted here. Like it was filtered through a barrier like sunlight through water. For another, Eden was gone. Not just moved, but gone, completely erased from all existence. Aziraphale and Crowley had both been there when it happened. They had watched as God struck down the walls and scattered the plants and animals across the world. To find it intact… well, he had fallen through the mirror. This, then, must be deep within Crowley’s soul. Some remote, hidden part that had survived the shattering. Or perhaps it was part of all he had just put back together. It would be impossible to tell. What worried him was that, aside from the plants and animals, it was empty. He half expected Crowley to show up like he had that first day, slithering up the wall as a gigantic snake. But no. What was left of Crowley was already here with him, a patch of darkness and cool flame riding across his shoulders.

“I don’t suppose you have any hints for what to do next?” he asked the creature, as they were nearing the Eastern Gate. “I can walk around this wall all day, I suppose, but I doubt that will get us anywhere.”

The creature just blinked at him with six sets of eyes, then turned them all to look forward.

“Yes, very helpful, thank you.”

It hummed happily.

“Right.” It occurred to him that he was talking to something barely more sentient than your average house-cat, but as far as conversation partners went, he had had far worse.

Closer to the Eastern Gate, Aziraphale saw movement on the wall for the first time. Someone was sitting there, just above the gate, staring out at the ocean of sand. Someone with very familiar jet-black wings and ember-red hair. Heart in his mouth, Aziraphale hurried towards the figure, hardly daring to breath. It had to be Crowley. There was no mistaking him. He was even wearing the same clothing he had been that last night in the bookshop - his customary black trousers and jacket, with a soft dark grey shirt underneath. Around Aziraphale’s neck, the creature began to vibrate so fast it produced an audible sound.

At the noise the figure looked up. And Aziraphale staggered back, flaring out his wings in alarm.

Staring at him from the familiar lines of Crowley’s face were eyes of a deep warm brown with a very human round pupil.

“Hello,” Crowley said cheerfully, making no move to stand from his place on the wall. “I don’t suppose you’re the new presence I felt here, are you?” Those strange, wrong eyes held no recognition and all Aziraphale could sense from him was an overwhelming sense of curiosity.

“I, ah, well,” he stammered, trying to find his words beneath his shock. Even when it had seemed vital, Crowley had never been able to change his eyes. Height, weight, sex, coloring, all were malleable to the demon and he changed them at the merest whim. But never once had Aziraphale seen him change his eyes. They were, he said, the mark of his Fall from Grace. ‘A ‘parting gift’ from a god who would no longer see him’ had been his exact words. Seeing them now so changed, it felt to Aziraphale as if the world had tilted off its axis. It was just a small thing, compared to everything else he had endured so far, but somehow it felt far worse.

“Cat got your tongue?” Crowley asked, watching him with those wide brown eyes.

“Ah, no, I just- I wasn’t expecting…” he gestured helplessly to the demon, unable to find the right thing to say. Crowley’s brow furrowed in puzzlement, but then his eyes fell on the creature, and his face took on an expression of curious delight.

“Hello, what are you?” he asked, jumping up and coming closer, circling Aziraphale and the creature. “You are remarkable,” he mused, leaning well into Aziraphale’s personal space to get a closer look at the creature’s flames. “Does it burn you?”

It took the angel a moment to realize what Crowley had asked, distracted by the nearness and the fact that the scent of him was different here - campfire and earth in place of his usual forge-fire and sage.

“Oh. Ah, no,” he said quickly. “That is, it doesn’t burn exactly. Its flames are actually quite cold.”

“Fascinating,” Crowley leaned to the side, trying to see the creature at another angle. “Is it yours? What is it?”

“No, it’s, um - wait, Crowley…” Aziraphale tried to turn to see him as he circled, now thrown off more by his odd behavior than his eyes. At the name, the demon stopped and frowned, peering up at the angel now instead of the creature.

“Crowley?” he asked, drawing out the syllables as if examining each one. “Is that his name them?”

“Whose?” Aziraphale frowned at him, putting a hand on the creature’s back and allowing the cool feeling of the darkness under his fingers to steady him.

Crowley shrugged, gesturing to the world around them. “His. Mine. Whoever all this is a part of.”

“You mean you don’t know?” Aziraphale blinked in surprise.

The demon shook his head, smiling a little helplessly. “Nah. I mean, ‘s not all me, is it? I’m just an aspect of him, from what I can work out. I tried to find out more, but the big guy in the center really doesn’t like it when you ask him questions.”

“An aspect?” Aziraphale echoed, ignoring the rest of that confusing sentence. The demon before him certainly looked like Crowley, except for the eyes. But now that he had a chance to catch his breath and really look at him, he could tell something more was wrong that just those eyes and his scent. This… ‘aspect’ certainly felt like Crowley, but he wasn’t acting like him at all. There was no restraint to his movements. He carried himself like he didn’t even really notice what his body was doing, letting every thought that passed into his mind play across his face, his expression ever shifting and changing, as mercurial as the sea. He lacked Crowley’s carefully crafted air of unconcern, the way he moved with such precision even as he put in extra effort to make it look effortless and almost lazy. The way he guarded his expression so carefully, at least until they were alone and he could relax for a time.

“Yup,” the aspect said, popping the p. “An aspect. A singular part of a greater whole.”

“And… do you know me?” Aziraphale feared the answer, but he could not keep the question from spilling out.

The aspect looked at him for a long time, scanning his face carefully with those unfamiliar brown eyes. At last, he sighed and shook his head.

“No. Though I feel as if I should. Why is that?”

“Oh.” He tried not to be disappointed. He’d known, going in, that this was going to be hard. But having a piece of Crowley - one that looked and felt so much like his demon - not recognize him… it hurt. Just as if Crowley himself had forgotten his name. It was a pain worse, even, than when he’d finally realized that Heaven did not care about him.

On his shoulder, the creature let out a sharp whistle and a series of hums.

“Huh.” The aspect’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “This one says your name is Aziraphale. And that I’m to stop upsetting you… am I upsetting you?”

“It- it knows me?” Aziraphale asked. He hadn’t thought the creature capable of remembering him at all. To know that it did soothed some of the ache from the aspect not recognizing him. “You can understand it?”

The aspect of Crowley shrugged, leaning in closer to the creature again. “Guess so. You can’t?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I can’t even sense feelings from it anymore.” The creature hummed under his ear.

“Interesting,” the aspect muttered, gently untangling one of the creature’s tendrils from the top button on Aziraphale’s waistcoat. “What are you doing with it, anyway?”

Aziraphale closed his eyes, remembering the cold cell filled with darkness and fire and eyes. “I was… I am trying to bring back my - my friend. This creature is all that was left of him.”

“So you are from the outside!” The aspect’s face lit with interest. “I had wondered. The sky was all broken before, sort of like the shards of a mirror. Then it sort of… fixed itself. I came up here to get a better look. I suppose that was you?”

“Maybe?” Aziraphale frowned, gazing into the reflectionless mirror in his hands. “I did put the shards of Crowley’s soul back together, at least. Or… I think I did anyway.”

“Can I see that?” the aspect asked, taking it from the angel and bringing it up so close to his face his breath left a fog on the metal. For him, it showed a reflection. Crowley, just as Aziraphale remembered him, with those wonderful serpentine eyes.

“Hmm… yeah,” the aspect tilted it to different angles, looking at the way it reflected Crowley’s face back at him. “It looks like a mirror, but it feels like something else.” He lifted it up and flipped it over, looking at the back of it before turning it on its side and examining the circles etched into the front. “Nine, hmm? One for each of us, and then the big guy…?” He held it up to the sun, watching the light bounce off of it. In the air, it reflected the stones of the wall and the forest down below.

“Tell me,” he asked then, not looking at Aziraphale. “What happened here? On this wall?”

“What?” the angel paused, thrown off by the seemingly incongruous question.

“What happened here?” the aspect repeated. “I can feel that it’s an important place. Somewhere I should know. Why?”

“It, well, it was where we met,” Aziraphale told him. “Crowley and I. Where we really spoke for the first time.” He turned to look out over the desert, the way he had that day so many centuries ago. “He stood under my wing when the very first rain began to fall.”

As he spoke, the mirror flashed, and an image of the two of them - Crowley sheltering under Aziraphale’s wing - formed within the glass. Then, just as quickly, it was gone.

“He could have killed you then,” the aspect mused, staring at the now-empty reflection.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale frowned, confused.

“Yes. You were defenseless, without even a flaming sword to protect you. He could have destroyed you without a second thought. Why didn’t he?”

“He…” he stopped, really considering his answer. Why hadn’t Crowley killed him that day? They weren’t friends then; they had barely even known each other. It would have been very much within both of their supposed natures to attempt to destroy the other. And yet, Crowley hadn’t even seemed to consider the idea.

“He was…” he had asked Crowley that same question, that night in Rome after the oysters, when they’d both been pleasantly drunk on expensive wine. I was curious, Crowley had admitted. Who was this angel who would give away his sword? Why would he do that? Was it a trick? Were you trying to lull me into a false sense of security so you could strike when my guard was down? Or were you really that stupid, to give away a weapon of God to someone She had just banished? I had to know.

But if I really was trying to trick you, you put yourself in danger coming up to me like that, Aziraphale had pointed out. Crowley had just shrugged. And yet you didn’t kill me, was all he said. And here we are.

“He was curious,” Aziraphale said at last. “He wanted to understand why I had given away my sword.”

“And when that curiosity was sated?” the aspect wanted to know. “Why did he not just kill you then?”

The angel shook his head. He had no answer to that. “I don’t know.”

“Here.” The aspect dropped the mirror back into his hands. “Think about it,” he said. “It’s something to ponder, at least.”

“Yes,” Aziraphale agreed. “I do suppose it is.”

The aspect nodded. “Good. Then I think you’ll do alright.”

Aziraphale looked at him, confused. “What?”

Those strange brown eyes met his own in a steady gaze, and he found himself unable to look away. “What am I?” the aspect asked.

“What?” Aziraphale repeated.

“Name me. I am a part of your Crowley. Tell me which part.”

“You… you want to know which aspect of Crowley you are?” the angel asked, still confused.

“Yes,” he agreed. On Aziraphale’s shoulder, the creature hummed. “I am one of eight. To be returned to where I belong, I must know which part I am. Only then will I be able to see where I fit with all the others.”

Aziraphale considered him. The way those wide brown eyes never seemed to stop taking in the world around him. He was bright, vibrant, full of questions. He reminded Aziraphale of the way Crowley could get sometimes, when he would be seized by a drive to find an answer to something. How he never just wanted to know the answer, but the whys and the hows of it as well. Aziraphale blinked, and realized suddenly that he didn’t even really need to think about it. He knew which part of Crowley this aspect was already. In fact, he was certain of it.

“Curiosity,” he said firmly. “You are Crowley’s curiosity.”

The aspect of Curiosity grinned at him. “That I am. Thank you.” He lifted the mirror in Aziraphale’s hands, allowing it to pick up his reflection once more. If flashed, bright enough that the angel was forced to cover his eyes and turn away. When the glow faded, he was alone with the creature once again.

“That was…” he shook his head, trying to clear the afterimage of that bright flash from his vision. Quickly he brought up the mirror, worried that something might have happened to it. It appeared the same as it had been before, with one addition. In the upper left-hand corner, one of the circles had been filled in with a symbol Aziraphale recognized. It read ‘Curiosity’ in Enochian, the language of angels.

#so much discounted #aziraphale/crowley #Ineffable Husbands

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catalystic-dragons · 6 years ago

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Just a quick info dump about my wof fantribe ;v;

Name:

Warrenwings

Base:

Name Meaning:

A network of underground tunnels and burrows - a reference to how Warrenwings live:

Naming Convention:

Warrenwings name their hatchlings after geological features, ground-nesting wildlife, precious stones and insects. Sometimes, they are also named after fungai or plants that grow in little light (thus cultivated underground).

Home/Habitat:

Vast burrows underneath the dry savannah on which they live. The burrows are ever expanded by teams of builders - when they aren’t expanding, they reinforce the older tunnels and burrows. Cave ins are only really common on mining levels, where the poorest dragons mine precious metals and gemstones.

Burrows are usually quite spacious, regardless of ranking, as Warrenwings are usually half the size of Mudwing at full growth, though Royals can have over double the space of a commoner.

Average Lifespan:

A well fed warrenwing may live for up to 500 years! But it is exceptionally rare for them to exceed more then 250 in their current environment. As they get older, warrenwings become more sluggish and reptile-like, preferring to bask and wait for food to come by than engage in energetic bouts of hunting.

Government:

King and Queen rule as a unit with a council of elders. While the King and Queen have the majority of the power, the council of elders vastly outnumber them, and are made up of the oldest dragons in the tribe. With their wisdom of the tribe’s history, and the experience to provide guidance, they help the king and queen make vital decisions, and feed back from their communities directly.

Any royal can challenge their parents for the throne once they complete a sacred trial, known as “Night of the Long Hunt”. During this trial, the royalling must hunt down a male lion and bring his carcass to the tribe for a great feast. Some never do this, and thus abdicate from the throne - but Ravine, the current Queen, bought back a fully grown male to prove her worth as a strong leader, a strong fighter and a good tactician. She picked her mate, Beatle, before she became queen, and thus he inherited the title King after she had proven herself worthy and her mother, Meerkat, had stepped down.

Abilities:

Warrenwings are exceptionally hardy dragons; what they lack in size and speed, they make up for in strength and stamina. Their tough hide is built to protect them from potential predators, like large wild cats and hyenas. Their wings are too small to let them fly for long distances, or at all in some cases, but they make fantastic shields against predators or other warrenwings.

Aside from their horned snouts, shovel claws, thick leathery wings and thick tails, often equipped with clubs, spades or spikes, they have a cement-like mixture they can fire from glands at the back of their throat - used both for offence and the building of their vast burrows.

Diet:

A warrenwing is not a picky eater. While they are classed as omnivorous, they must get protein in their diet; through grubs they find in the tunnels, or kills bought in by the hunters. Fruits are enjoyed as a special treat during the rainy season, and mushrooms and root veggies make up the rest of their food. It should be noted that they cannot digest leafy plant matter well, but will eat it if there is nothing else. They do need to consume porous rocks regularly to produce their cement like spit.

Colours:

Common Primaries - Earthy browns, stone greys, mossy greens, charcoal black, sandy yellows.

Uncommon Primaries - Snowflake obsidian, dark greens, fleshy colours (scaleless)

Rare Primaries - Leucistic, piebald, melanistic

Legendary Primaries - albino, opalite, opal, any deep/bright colours

All Accents- rare mineral/gemstone-like colours; blue/green/red/turquoise/purple/yellow/black/etc

ROYAL ONLY - opal

Traits:

Common - underbite, short nose horns, short horns, chin spines, short ears, hard scales on legs, leg spines, short spines down back, short spines on tail, spade on tail, small wings, wing claws, short tail, shovel claws, smooth underbelly

Uncommon - rabbit ears, ram horns, long horns, branching horns, rabbit back legs, extra row of leg scales, medium wings, gecko tail, club tail, medium leg spines, plate underbelly, scaleless

Rare - blindness, starnose, drillnose, droopy ears, long nose horns, double horns, spine mane, tusks, large wings, clawless wings, paws, stegosaurus plates, thagomiser tail

Legendary - snake mouth, tremorsense, antlers, short fur mane, wingless, long tail, arrowhead tail, crocodile tail (dragging)

ROYAL ONLY - secondary “gemscale”, gem markings by the eyes, triple layer arm scales

Continent:

Warrenwings live on an island that is largely vast scrubland, desert and savannah along the equator, where it is very hot and often very dry. Their home is known as Platynus (Genus of beetle), and is rather unforgiving in its nature. From space, it looks like a dragon coiling back on itself, trying to bite it’s own tail. It should be noted it is significantly smaller than the other continents. While there are mountain ranges around the fringes of the Platynus, and there are several active volcanoes dotted about, it is mostly arid, with droughts running riot when the sweltering dry season extends for longer than a month. Because of this, Warrenwings view water as sacred, and often try to cultivate pools of water in their underground home.

The wildlife present on Platynus are hardy species. There are several kinds of dromedary, and some wild species of horse. The most common large predator is the hyena, or lion, which will prey on small and weak warrenwings if given the chance. Meerkats, wild hamsters and moles are commonplace in the scrub, and many species of vulture and hawk make their home in the trees. At first glance, Platynus may seem like a lifeless plain, but it is teeming with life. Elusive elephants and rhinoceros can be found in the quiet corners of the continent, away from the bustle of the wildebeest herds and the jaws of giant crocodiles.

Religious Beliefs:

Warrenwings find harmony in the natural order of their world; the circle of life is something many hold dear as a solid belief. Elephants are seen as old Gods, wandering through the brush. Following them brings the promise of water, so naturally Warrenwings see them as sacred animals to be revered and respected. To kill and Elephant, or eat its carcass, is a great taboo. The hyenas of the plains are seen as harbingers of death; seeing a pack when you are alone is a sign of terrible things to come. Vultures are seen as guides - whether that is a guide to the afterlife, or a guide to your next meal, depends on the vulture.

As the concept of Kings and Queens is relatively new to Warrenwings as a united tribe, some side warrens have unofficial leaders, who are often revered as wise ones. These are often old female Warrenwings, who pass the knowledge of tunnel carving, medicines and water cultivation down the generations. While unofficial, offending these old matriarchs is frowned upon.

Lore:

Warrenwings were only made aware of the outside world when a mudwing and icewing shipwrecked on their shores. It was an experience which shocked the tribe, who mainly lived apart and competed for resources in rival burrows, into connecting as one people. Knowing there were many tribes out there, ones that displayed strange and terrible powers, led them to form their current society. While the current Queen is aware there remains a lot to be desired, she is working hard to create a warren where her people can live together in harmony. She has been Queen for 10 years, and while her people like her, there is a stirring in the poorest parts of the warren. While not quite ready for a true rebellion, discontent grows in the mines.

Laws:

Warrenwings live by a simple rule. One must help the warren stay alive. Killing another warrenwing is only ever an option in extreme cases, and will rarely stand up against the Queen and her Council, unless you have evidence to support your side. Though the King and Queen are seen as the ultimate heads of the law, they can be challenged by the Council and dismissed if the Council deem it necessary for the good of the Warren.

Simply, the laws are thus:

Do not kill your fellow dragons

Do not force your love upon those that do not wish it

Be kind to those in need; share with them your water, your shelter, your food

Do not go out alone above ground, unless you have been told to do so

Never defile the water; do not steal it, do not soil in it

Never kill an Elephant, for they are sacred

The King and Queen decide justice, but are not above justice itself

Those who defy the law are tried by the Queen and Council, and testify before randomly selected warrenwings who will, along with the council, decide their fate. The worst case scenario for any warrenwing is exile, and that is not taken lightly by anyone involved.

Alliances:

None thus far. They are a private tribe and are well removed from the political spheres of the canon dragon tribes.

Rankings:

Rankings are decided by jobs, which decide where in the warren you live. Those who show talent during their training years are recommended to the Masters of those fields, who then decide whether or not to take them on as apprentices.

Lower class Jobs (poorest): Miner, cleaner, seer, sentry, gem refiner, gem cutter, guard, tunnel digger, mushroom farmer

Middle class jobs (average): Tunnel Architect, tunnel overseer, wiseone (only for older tribe members), hunter (above ground), gatherer (below ground), cook, weatherwatcher (above ground), lawkeeper, soldier, weaver

Upper class jobs (rich): Jeweller, dowser (one who finds water), royal guard, royal cook, personal seer (to royals), water cleanser, gem polisher, royal quarters cleaner

Royal Jobs (royal family only): Queen’s Guard, King’s Guard, water overseer, lead hunter, lead gatherer, lead lawkeeper

Animus Laws:

Animus dragons exist, but are often exceptionally rare. They are feared, but beloved by their kingdom, and reside with the King and Queen to be raised alongside their own hatchlings. They are only ever asked to use their power in extreme cases, like severe droughts.

#the dragon talks #wof #wof amino #fantribe #wof fantribe #wings of fire #wings of fire fantribe #warrenwings #my art #the dragon writes

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thedcdunce · 6 years ago

Text

Secret

“I'm tired of having everybody be afraid of me and leaving me!!!” - Secret

Real Name: Greta Hayes

Aliases:

Suzie

Gender: Female

Height: 4′ 8″

Eyes: Blue

Hair: Blonde

Powers:

Warder Physiology

Weaknesses:

Electromagnetic Interference

Magic Interference

Universe: New Earth

Base of Operations:

Secret Sanctuary, Happy Harbor, Rhode Island

Catskill Mountain Hotel

Marital Status: Single

Occupation:

Student

Crime-fighter

Education: Elias School for Girls

First Appearance: Young Justice: The Secret#1 (June, 1998)

Last Appearance: Booster Gold Vol 2 #3 (December, 2007)

Powers

Warder Physiology: When Greta was killed by her brother, she was able to stay on the earthly plane as a warder, someone who guides spirits who have just died to the afterlife. She has an ethereal body with a unique power set.

Flight: As an ethereal being, Secret can levitate and fly through the air at will, although she seems to be able to allow herself to be subject to gravity.

Intangibility: Secret typically remains in an intangible state. Solid matter and some forms of energy have been able to pass through her body without causing her harm. Secret is, however, susceptible to electric and magic-based attacks, even though she is mostly intangible. Secret can actually make herself solid for up to a few minutes at a time, allowing her to physically interact with tangible matter.

Sublimation: Secret is visually comprised of a smoky, misty quasi-ethereal substance of unknown composition. She can turn her body partly or wholly into smoke. As smoke, Secret has complete control over herself, able to travel through the air as she desires. She can perceive her environment while in this smoke form, even though she often has no discernible eyes or ears or whatnot. She has forced her gaseous body into the air passageways of enemies to disallow them to breathe, making them pass out.

Smoke Construct Creation: Much like how she can make her normal-looking body solid for brief periods of time, Secret can make the smoke she produces/becomes form into solid constructs. She has made a cage before, and she has used her smoke to throw enemies and catch falling allies.

Metamorphosis: Secret can alter her form to look like whatever she wishes. She still retains the same color scheme, but the shape can be changed to make her look like other things. One of her favorite alternatives to her human form is a dragon-like monster with fangs and claws, but she has altered her appearance in other ways as well. Much like her normal form, Secret seems to be able to make herself solid while in these other shapes as well.

Superhuman Strength: When Secret shape-shifts parts of her body into shapes that give her strength. For example, she has shape-shifted her fists into large, stone-hard fists that were able to greatly crack the concrete she punched.

Superhuman Durability: Secret can shape-shift parts of her body into a denser form. She has once turned her hands into a wall to protect her teammate from danger.

Size Alteration: While altering her appearance, Secret can make herself larger than her standard human size. Her dragon-like monster form tends to be a quite large, and she has transformed herself to look like a several-stories-tall version of a certain politician.

Teleportation: Secret has the ability to "smoke jump," as she calls it. Using this ability, she can teleport herself and/or others in a puff of smoke. She has been able to travel considerable distances with her smoke jumps.

Dimensional Travel: In addition to her ability to teleport, Secret has the ability to bring others into a pocket dimension that only she has been shown to be able to access. Calling this place "the Abyss," Secret has brought in friends into her dimension to protect them from danger, and she has pulled enemies within the Abyss as a form of confinement. Inside the Abyss is pure darkness, unless Secret herself appears to communicate with her prisoners. The Abyss is somehow inside of Secret, part of her being.

Fear Projection: The pocket dimension known as the Abyss has the innate ability to create fear and other negative feelings within the people inside. She has accidentally almost traumatized her friends when she briefly pulled them inside to protect them, but she has also intentionally used this ability to scare enemies.

Magic/Supernatural Sense: Secret was able to detect the magical energy signature of Klarion and track him down. Furthermore, she can also see spectral entities that usually cannot be seen.

Death Sense: Secret can sense when death is about to happen, and she can sense when death has just occurred.

Self-Sustenance: Secret does not appear to require food, water or oxygen, claiming she "Missed the sensation of hunger", although she has been sleeping at times.

Clairvoyance: By turning into smoke and entering the body of the dying Kathy Sutton through her air passageways, Secret was able to "mingle" in a sense with Kathy's soul, which was preparing to leave and enter the afterlife. While the experience seemed like a dream, Secret was able to coax Kathy into staying among the living. Secret could presumably do this for others if she had the time and the person in question likewise had the realistic potential to stabilize.

Possession: By forcing herself into the air passageways of someone, Secret was able to control that person's body. Not only was she able to control the person's movements, she was able to speak through the person and was able to access that person's metahuman powers.

Weaknesses

Electromagnetic Interference

Magic Interference

History

The hero known as Secret was once an ordinary girl named Greta Hayes. She was murdered by her adoptive brother, Billy, who would later become the supervillain known as Harm. Because of the manner of her death, Greta remained stuck on this plane of existence, a gateway between the living and the dead.

In her first appearance, Secret was being held against her will by the DEO. Robin, Impulse, and Superboy helped her to escape, and were able to convince her to join their crimefighting team, "Young Justice," at the same time as Wonder Girl and Arrowette. Being incorporeal, Secret is able to take on a variety of appearances, and is referred to as "the mist girl" or "the bottle girl" by the various agents who pursue her throughout her career.

Her brother Billy assumed the villainous identity of Harm and attacked Young Justice, but died when his own father shot him. Billy returned during the events of "Day of Judgment," when the entirety of Hell had been evacuated. He again battled the team, using the substance of Secret.

Before her real name was known, Secret was often referred to as Suzie. Secret became good friends with the two girls, and was often portrayed as shy. For awhile she nursed a crush on Robin, and often defended his actions and followed his leadership unquestioningly. She also often expressed jealousy of Spoiler, Robin's girlfriend, to the point where the pair of them once had a full out battle across Gotham City, only stopped by the combined efforts of both Red Tornado and Robin.

During the Sins of Youth event, a temporarily adult Secret, with the aid of Deadman, chased down Klarion the Witch Boy's cat familiar Teekl, as Klarion had been overtly threatening them. Surprising her age-altered friends, she caused Klarion to back down by threatening to kill Teekl. When undoing everything he had done, Klarion insisted that it was everyone or nothing. Secret didn't want to change back to a kid, but was persuaded to by Robin, who promised to always be there for her. As predicted by Merry Pemberton, this would later cause many problems. Secret would even go so far as to physically threaten Spoiler.

At one point Hal Jordan, the Spectre, tried to mentor Secret. During this time, she visited her father in jail. Under the mental influence of "Billy," her father rejected her, leaving her more despondent than before.

Secret eventually gave in to the darkness in her nature at the behest of Darkseid, whom she mistakenly referred to as "Doug Side." During her time on Apokolips, Billy possessing her father, launched the body into one of the firepits, killing them both. Although Hal Jordan offered to step in and save Greta, as well as the world, the current Young Justice team advisor, Snapper Carr, rejected the offer, preferring that the kids use Secret turning evil as a "learning experience." Robin was eventually able to talk her down by himself. Towards the end of Young Justice, a disgusted Darkseid stripped Greta of her powers, and left her an ordinary, living girl, which was, ironically, just what she had always wanted to be.

Greta now attends the Saint Elias School for Girls, with schoolmates Cassie Sandsmark and Cissie King-Jones.

#secret #greta hayes #suzie #Young Justice #dc #DC comics #thedcdunce

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lady-divine-writes · 6 years ago

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Coldflash one-shot - “The Ring” (Rated PG13)

After an anxiety-fueled dream that Len waves away as time travel sickness, he opts instead to think ahead to what his and Barry's eventual future may be.

But could that dream be a more accurate indicator of what's in store for the two of them? (1471 words)

Notes: So, I wrote this for Valentine's Day, based off of a 'Yuri on Ice' fanart I saw on Instagram. It gives hints on what's to come in the upcoming sequel of Cover Up, which I hope to have done and uploaded before summer.

Read on AO3.

“Bare … Barry?”

Len’s footsteps echo within the confines of his anxiety-riddled brain as he tries to walk in a direction that feels like forward, but only because that’s the way he’s headed. A field of absolute darkness stretches out ahead of him and he struggles to walk straight, tunneled in this direction by a perception of safety that he has no solid evidence exists. If he was safe, he wouldn’t be alone.

Barry would be with him.

“Barry? Are you … are you there?”

Fine filaments of red light flash in the corner of his eye – combustion bright and so blinding, he has to physically turn away from it to keep it from searing his retinas. But when he turns his head, the light changes course, zipping in front of his face as if it’s trying to get his attention.

“Barry?”

The light bounces closer and closer, carrying with it a sharp, zapping noise like a laser …

… or Barry’s tattoo gun.

“Barry?” The light stops its sporadic jumping and swirls around him. It dries out the air, causing his eyes and sinuses to burn, making the hair on his arms stand on end. The ink on his body, put there by Barry, begins to sting; the cover up concealing the scars on his spine aching so powerfully, it bows his back.

It almost brings him to his knees.

“Barry? Where … where are you, Barry?”

“Here,” a voice crackling from within the cyclone replies. “I’m here.”

Len doesn’t answer. He assumes that this electrical phantom is a meta of some sort and it’s taunting him. It can probably read his mind, knows what’s important to him, and it’s using that to bait him into submission.

Playing him like a cat with a mouse.

He clears his mind, refuses to give it any more ammunition than it already has.

But the next, “Len … I’m right here,” sounds sincere.

It sounds sad.

It sounds like Barry. His Barry, not some copycat.

Len has had metas trick him before, but he’s never met one this good. There’s always something underneath the deception that manages to give them away – a tone, a sneer, a thread of malice. But Len doesn’t hear that in this voice. His head knows, and his heart knows, that this is Barry Allen.

“Barry?” Len reaches out a cautious hand to try and touch the red lightning, worried that Barry might be trapped inside. An arc springs out from the mass and winds around his finger. Len’s first instinct is to leap back, but that would launch him into the bulk of the electrical field that’s built up around him. More tendrils of electricity reach out to touch him. They form together and take his hand. Len shivers at the touch, at the heat surging through his skin and up his arm.

At how familiar it feels.

“B---Barry?”

“Len?”

“Barry?” As the cyclone tightens, the light glows a brilliant crimson, like a lost desert sun. Len squints into it, his head pounding as he searches for signs of his missing boyfriend. “Barry? Where are you?”

The light gathers in a single knot … and a face leaps out at him. “Len! I’m right here!”

Len screams, scrambling backward straight into the swirling vortex. The electricity grabs his arm and shakes him. With each nudge, the grip on his bicep feels softer, more corporal, bones and skin palpable underneath. The eyes staring into his are no longer full of red forks, but are the concerned, human eyes of Barry Allen leading Len out of the dark.

Len blinks and the electricity dissipates, dissolves into the cool room around them, chased by floating lights - the remnants of a dream that felt so real, the skin on Len’s arms still prickles with its static. But it wasn’t real. It was just a nightmare - the dark tunnel simply Barry’s bedroom; the electricity - the tripping bulb in the street lamp outside that stutters and pops as night transforms into day, hours before preparing to switch off.

“Len …” Barry relinquishes his hold on sleep when it becomes clear how much his boyfriend needs him “… are you all right?”

“Ye-yeah.” Len breathes in deep and pauses before he answers again, taking a moment to make sure he’s not lying. “Yeah, I’m all right.”

“Did you have a nightmare?”

“Yeah.” Len turns his face away, running the back of his hand over his cheeks to banish a few obnoxious tears. “I guess I did. But it’s over now.”

Barry scoots up a few inches, trying to sit up. “You haven’t had one of those in a while.”

“I know. It’s all right. Just some residual time travel sickness. Nothing major.”

“Do you … want to talk about it?”

Len smiles - a weak smile at best. “Nah. It’s not worth it.” He puts a trembling hand on Barry’s shoulder and pushes him gently down the mattress, then tucks him in under the blankets. He doesn’t mind discussing his nightmares with Barry when they’re easy, about the things Barry already knows – his father’s abuse; his fears over leaving his sister alone and vulnerable for long periods of time and what that might be doing to her mentally; the idea that he may never truly be able to leave his past behind him; that without the Waverider, he might fall back into old habits and become an even worse criminal than he was before.

That he might lose everything he’s fought hard for, that he’s come to hold dear … Barry included.

“Are you sure?” Barry asks, slipping obediently underneath the blankets, but only so he can get closer to his boyfriend. “Should we contact your team? Like Dr. Stein? Maybe he can …”

“I’ll be seeing my team sooner than I want,” Len interrupts, running his fingers over Barry’s scalp and through his hair, knowing it’s a surefire way to get him snoozing again. “Go back to sleep. We only have the one more day together, and I need you all good and rested for what I have planned.”

“Hmmm …” Barry mutters, heavy eyelids drifting closed with little persuasion necessary. “Sounds fun. Athletic.”

“You know it. I need to work off all that pizza we’ve been eating.” Len leans over and kisses Barry on the temple, pressing his lips down his cheek to his neck until he hears the soft whisper of Barry’s breath as he begins to sleep again. Len nuzzles the line of Barry’s jaw with his nose and sighs. He looks Barry over, from his disheveled hair to his naked shoulders, his muscular body wrapped in the thick, red comforter on his bed. Nearly his entire body is covered by the thing except for his head, his neck, and his left hand. On that hand, balled slightly, he wears a single ring.

The pinkie ring Len gave him.

Barry wears it on his index finger. Funny that a ring that fits Len’s pinkie fits Barry’s forefinger, but Barry’s fingers are so thin compared to Len’s. Aside from that, it was almost as if the ring stretched to fit Barry’s finger. Len couldn’t explain it. Then again, when it comes to Barry, he’s stopped trying to explain anything. That vibrating habit of Barry’s? It still bugs Len, but mostly for what it might mean for Barry’s future, the implications if a meta, Rip, or any other Time Master finds out. But as long as Len is a part of that future, he’s going to make sure that nothing bad happens to Barry; that Barry lives a long, safe, and happy life.

Even if it’s in exchange for his own.

But there’s more than one way which that may go, and the one that Len’s thinking, the one that could ensure everyone’s happiness all the way around, requires that ring to be on a very different finger.

Calling back on his skills as a second-rate pickpocket, Len grasps the ring with his fingertips and tugs it up Barry’s finger. The ring takes its sweet time sliding off, resisting like it doesn’t want to go, but Len manages to slip it off without waking Barry. Len looks at the ring in the dim, sputtering light from outside. As far as rings go, it’s nothing special – just a plain old silver band. But Barry wears it incessantly, like it means the world to him.

Fitting since Barry means the world, and several timelines, to Len.

Len switches the band to Barry’s ring finger. Again, there’s no way it should fit, but it does, sliding down easily over his knuckle and resting at the base.

‘There,’ Len thinks, curling around Barry’s body, his left hand over Barry’s, his thumb resting against the ring. ‘That looks better.’

In his sleep, Barry smiles.

#leonard snart #Captain Cold #Barry Allen #ColdFlash #frankie writes

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st33d · 6 years ago

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I’m not bored of RPGs

I would prefer to take my own screenshots but Steam has given me a big update queue and getting shots off of the Switch is a different kind of chore. Instead I will be using appropriate pictures of cats I found on shutterstock.com.

Pillars of Eternity 2

Almost all isometric computer roleplaying games are broken into islands. There is a campaign map operating like a vast sea, and within that sea one visits small places with a clearly marked border. Instanced dungeons where a poor laptop can muster a fireworks display for your heroes.

How refreshing that Pillars 2 leans into that. Islands within islands. Thematically a voyage across the sea, replete with sea shanties. I applaud the structure of this game. It is a delight to discover remote islands that hold illustrated text adventures in addition to the meat and potatoes combat.

And the combat really is meat and potatoes. You get to choose two professions, allowing really dumb combinations like my paladin who had to choose between summoning bats or tanking the front line. The benefit of all this is that you can find ways to entertain yourself if you get bored of all the murdering. I avoided the ship to ship combat as it is a weird mini game that I don’t like. You can largely do without it, and if you make enough allies during the main quest you can get to the final battle free of cannon balls or uninspiring melee.

The main story suffers from trying to have a connection to the first game. I really would have preferred to tackle this adventure without that baggage. When I go off the beaten track the game is a lot of fun. Fortunately the open sea has little in the way of tracks. It is a game weighed down by hubris and experiment but still manages to tread water in a sea of similar titles.

Tangledeep

This is a mostly classic roguelike. I say mostly because it has some very linear boss fights you’re forced to repeat, and it offsets the lack of a hunger clock by just dumping more monsters into a level. By “dump” I mean they’re just new things there without any logic or tactical threat.

However, Tangledeep has a lot of nonsense you can get up to: You can summon plant monsters. Multiclass into a soul drinking summoner. Plant trees. Keep pets. Visit bonus dungeons. Make food (mostly curry). There’s other stuff too, I just kinda lost track.

I got invested enough to come up with a specific build. One that would summon lots of monsters and teleport around the map with a combination of skills I’d pick up from two of the fighting professions. Eventually I died and I couldn’t imagine playing a different style of character. The new classes I was unlocking weren’t offering new pets or movement skills so I haven’t played since.

I enjoyed my time with Tangledeep a lot. Mining the powers from all the classes was a fun project to play out during the delve. Had I survived I’m sure I would have engaged with all the other features the game has. I want to say you should play the game without permadeath, because the structure doesn’t reward it. I think one should play their first game with permadeath on to get to grips with using skills, then turn it on to start a new game. Picking classes in the right order and taking only the skills you need. The game kind of expects you to do this by offering a tougher dungeon on future play-throughs. Some solid fun to be had here when you figure out what settings you should turn on and off. The developer has been kind enough to offer a lot of them.

Devil May Cry 5

Okay, it’s not an RPG but it’s really good. A pure expression of joy in videogame form. It dares me into thinking it’s gone too stupid, but then yes, yes I really do need to cut down this boss with two motorcycles, it’s the best tactical option.

I’m too old and slow for these sort of games and yet DMC5 encouraged me instead of frustrating me. From fans of the series I’ve heard it does its forebears credit. One can only hope that its creators have more games like this to share in the future.

Final Fantasy X

I’ve stopped at the Blitzball tutorial, I do not want to play this mini game. I don’t like any of the characters in this game either. It took The Witcher 3 about eight hours to win me over, which is kind of acceptable in a huge RPG. But I’m not even meeting NPCs that I like.

I’ll have to come back to this one.

Final Fantasy XII

Constraints do interesting things to games. In FF12 we have what wants to be an open world MMO type of game and it thinks it’s running on a Playstation 2. So the whole world is broken into islands.

Sounds like an isometric CRPG to me. It even leans into that constraint, creating strange geometries to navigate with a pace to encounters that you don’t really see in modern sandbox games. In an open world there must be empty spaces. To create immersion and to allow monsters to chase you for a reasonable distance before giving up. You need boring bits. FF12 removes those boring bits, creating a world that feels like a traditional dungeon on a massive scale.

Then it puts those boring bits right back in. All the way in.

FF12 is a real-time game. You assign commands and your heroes act them out. You can also set your heroes on auto pilot. The game lets you buy more specific commands from shops, allowing you to create an undying death machine out of your party. This starts out really fun. You unlock abilities on your character’s skill-tree-board-thing and continue to tinker with the death ball. But even though you’ve unlocked an ability, you have to first find it in the dungeon world. And some of the ways you find them are bullshit. Be prepared to walk in and out of an area to dice roll a boss fight into appearing (not a bug - that’s what you have to do). Be prepared to navigate a dungeon that has a 42 minute explanation on youtube (and it’s been edited). Be prepared to find Dispelga on route to a boss and only find Dispel after you looked it up on a wiki (it’s in the corner of a really easy dungeon that I already cleared). Unlocking abilities this way sets expectations. I know I’m missing something and I’ve paid to unlock it - I’m committed. As I got further into the game’s list of status effects and party buffs my frustration grew.

The story has a cast of amiable characters struggling against occupation by the Empire. It’s alright. I remember all their names but couldn’t honestly tell you how I got to where I am or what started it. In a game which is largely about exploration it works pretty well as a backdrop.

It’s a very unique game. A hybrid of MMO and isometric RPG made from the JRPG mindset. The modern ports of the game feature fast-forward buttons that apologise for the self-indulgences taken in its original form. It is a decent thirty hours of fun and a further ten hours of not much fun. I certainly recommend it to roleplaying game enthusiasts, but with caveats for completionists.

World of Final Fantasy

I experienced Pokemon Red on my then-desktop-PC whilst listening to the album Gran Turismo by The Cardigans. I couldn’t stand the high pitched beeps of the menu so I preferred to listen to the latest CD I had. The song Explode is burned into my mind next to stamping on a monster’s head and stuffing it into a ball. It’s not something you need to know, but I thought I’d tell you about it.

The conceit of why you are stuffing classic monsters from Final Fantasy games into balls prisms does not need explaining. Nor does one need to know why the two main characters help form two stacks of three creatures. Who cares why these stacks combine the powers of those within to create a hybrid JRPG avatar.

World of Final Fantasy cares. Oh boy does it care. There’s not a single button on my gamepad this isn’t getting away without two minutes of banter between the characters to explain it. Cutscene after cutscene rolls by. They often come in pairs so I pause and skip ahead just in case. Even after you complete a cutscene the characters lock out the controls and have a jolly good chat about what they’ve just seen. In its defence it lets you skip being waterboarded with the story and run the game at what feels like 1.5x speed. But there’s still a lot of busy work when it comes to skipping cutscenes. There’s loads of them.

I really like the combat. That is, I really like it when I have a monster that does the right colour damage for capturing a new monster. It’s a refreshing take on Pokemon that is utterly wasted on the Final Fantasy franchise, but I guess it needed the brand for this weird game to even exist. If you like the combat you found in Pokemon and want something with more nuance and challenge then you should pick it up and skip those cutscenes. If you need some story to wash it down with and don’t like a shockingly linear campaign map, then perhaps put it off for a while.

7DBL (7 Day Broughlike) Challenge

I’ve often been accused of making a Broughlike. To make a game that reminds you of Michael Brough’s work: A small grid with a turn based avatar that can cast spells. I’ve often refuted this because I tend to avoid having spells in my games. There’s just never a nice way to do the UI. Us iPad owners are fine, phone owners less so, desktop users get lots of keys to press, and hooray for gamepads if they aren’t awful for any type of menu.

Those more patient than I have stepped up to the challenge. Echoing the 7 Day Roguelike Challenge (7DRL, of which I am a yearly participant) developers across the globe attempted to make a small grid with a turn based avatar that cast spells. In 7 days. They also scheduled this challenge right before the gaming event called E3. Much like the 7DRL always gets scheduled before the gaming event called GDC. We can’t have a game jam making niche games and let reporters have time to talk about it. That wouldn’t be the done thing.

The results are above average. I say this coming from the 7DRL which is generally average, equal parts good and bad. The games produced in this jam are mostly good. There’s a few which clearly aren’t finished, and yet they show a great deal of promise. Even Brough himself submitted a game, one which is quite accessible and fun. Highlights for me included controlling a rather awkward squid that had to shoot in order to turn and a one dimensional roguelike that adds depth by throwing your weapons.

I hope they do it again next year.

My RPGs

I released my roguelite runner Bump 2 for the small audience that appreciates it. It’s one of those games that really appeals to a handful of people, and not to others in the slightest. In homage to my own select tastes and to unjinx my collection of unfinished projects, I resolved to make Bump 2 into its best form before walking away from it. And so I did.

I’m currently working on Kobold Dungeon Tester. This is my 4th (5th if you count Roomba Quest) interactive text project. I twice tried to write a novel in my youth and this project feel like a penance for my failures. Normally I would move on, satisfied the base idea works, like a puzzle, or a high score. A few kind words have convinced me that this one is different - it’s a story, it needs an ending. I shall try to finish it as best as I can.

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ardenttheories · 7 years ago

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Admittedly that was less “twenty minutes” and more “several hours” but regardless, I am here to provide a Homestuck/Undertale AU!

Also this got kind of long: It includes short character descriptions and powers, goes into a “pre-game” lore, and then picks up as if telling the story the “player” would play through if it were a game. At the end I also included little facts of the plot (specifically about Roxy, who acts a bit like Gaster), and a fun “No-Mercy run” twist of events.

John: A prince of the human realm. He was once great friends with Jane, before his family was struck down, and war ravaged the world. He disappeared soon after, and though it has never been confirmed, it is widely assumed that he was slaughtered alongside his parents.

Jade: The Royal Scientist of the Underground. She is a serious woman, when she wants to be, but tends to flip between tireless workaholic and outright shenanigan-fuelled silliness. She suffers occasional bouts of narcolepsy, but finds visions in her dreams that fuelled her projects, or encourage her to begin new ones. She is a plant-based monster (think Shyren, but with hair of thick vines, moss-based skin, and a long, thick lab coat). Her signature move in a fight is to resize the SOUL, making it harder for the player to escape her thorn-covered vines.

Dave and Davesprite: Twins who appeared under mysterious circumstances in the Underground. Both have a tendency for hiding their fears behind jokes and quick wit, often striking the fear of the other when they are fearful themself. They are skittish, unsure, but cover it well; to most outsiders, they are simply a pair of rambunctious crows, frequently getting themselves in trouble and aiding those they can in between bouts of arguments. Though Dave has the more dominant personality, speaking for both of them and making most of their friends, Davesprite tends to stick in the minds of people more; he is the quieter of the brothers, yet the one who (accidentally) makes the most trouble. They are Crow monsters: Dave’s feathers are white and his eyes are red, whereas almost every part of Davesprite is a fluorescent orange; they have no beaks, but instead bird-like noses and wide eyes, the majority of their bodies covered in feathers besides a small portion of their faces; from their forearms and their knees down, they are covered in the scale-like skin of a bird’s legs, toes and fingers turning into claws; and both sport large, beautiful wings, though Davesprite is missing the right wing. Their special move is to turn the SOUL orange and split it in half; Dave attacks one side, and Davesprite attacks the other. Davesprite’s attacks damage Dave’s half of the SOUL; Dave’s attacks damage Davesprite’s half of the SOUL.

Rose: A reclusive woman, hiding herself away in the furthest portion of the Underground. She has made her home in an oddly magical forest, covered in blue fungi and tar-like trees. She spends her days peering into her reflection in the only crystal-clear pond in the entire forest, searching for answers that play like movies on the bubbling surface of the water. She is a Cat monster (think the Snowdin shopkeeper, but... a cat) on her upperhalf, and a mass of tar-like tendrils on her lowerhalf. Her special move turns the SOUL crystal, requiring them to remember the pattern and order of her attacks that will then appear on screen invisible.

Dirk: An amalgamate. He was made from the dust of several monsters, infused with determination in order to see if they could be revived. Unfortunately, there was not enough dust of each monster to keep individual shape, and the resulting Shambling Limbs melted together instead. As a result, he is incredibly deformed: arms hold his head in place above his body, disconnected from his neck; odd-coloured arms sprout from his body, acting as if they are separate entities, constantly in discord with one another; parts of him waver in and out of existence, turning to dust only to to shift back into place, solid once more; his lower half is a molten goop, legs unable to retain their shape and leaving him with a trail of barely formed dust; and his face is droopy and inconsistent, flickering between the faces of the monsters he is formed of - a Robot (Brobot), a Shadow (Hal), a Fire Elemental (Godtier) and a Mirage (Brain Ghost). His signature move is to make the SOUL fade in and out of existence (turn blue and orange).

Jake: An adventurer, bored of the Underground. He is a boisterous and joyful man, always seeking out anything that can retain his attention for a long period of time. He has scoured every inch of the Underground and uncovered all of its secrets (or so he thinks), and desires to escape into the Overworld simply for the thrill of more. He is a Greater Dog. His signature move is to cycle the SOUL through various colours every turn.

Jane: A lonely princess who remembers the days before the Underground. She once had a brother, a father, and a loving court; now she has dirt, dust, and nothing to show for her title besides a tiara she’s long since forgotten. She locks herself in the Ruins in the hopes to avoid her future, and the masses of monsters out in the Underground expecting her to solve the conundrum of their entrapment. She is a Jackrabbit monster (think the Snowdin shopkeeper mixed with Toriel). Her signature move is to turn the SOUL light green, showering down volleys of white attacks with green attacks interspersed; the player has to collect these green attacks to refill their continuously depleting health.

Roxy: The Royal Scientist prior to Jade. She disappeared under mysterious circumstances, leaving the lab and the amalgamate inside to her descendant. Very little is known about her, though it is assumed, at this point, that she must be dead. She is a Shadow monster. Her signature move turns the SOUL black, hiding it against the background and only blinking into existence every few seconds.

Plot:

Jane was the heiress to the throne in the Overworld. At that time, there was peace; her and her father kept close relations with the human King and Queen, to the point that she befriended their son, the prince. All was well, until one day, her father announced that he was going to marry. The woman he had found was a wicked Witch. She treated her population awfully, but presented such an image of terror that nobody dared to fight back. In time, she attempted to stretch her influence into the human realm, and initiated a bloody attack; she slaughtered her husband, and murdered the human King and Queen. The young human prince disappeared overnight.

The humans would not bow down to her will, as the monsters had. Instead, a gruesome war took hold of the world; blood ran the rivers red, battles devastated villages and towns, and dust coated what were once well-inhabited homes.

Between the brutality of her mother, and the overwhelming power of the vengeful humans, the monster population dwindled to near extinction. Jane was desperate to save her people.

She opened the way to the Underground as an escape for monsters of all kinds, leaving the Witch to her pointless war with the humans.

Before she descended with them, she fled back into her mother’s territory. It took her years, but she soon found the missing prince, deep in a slumber beneath the castle’s walls; aged years far above his own, he was frail and weak. With tender delicacy, his tender form clutched gently to her chest, she fled into the Underground with her only friend - and used his SOUL to obscure the entrance from ever being found.

In the safety of the Underground, the monster population soon began to rise. New young replaced the dead, raised on the whispers of humans and terror and war. Time passed, and the rumours only gained friction, become more distorted from the truth the more they were repeated. Soon, Jane was only a whisper on the lips of the hopeful; the one who saved them, and the one who would set them free, once the humans and the Witch had slaughtered each other off the face of the Earth.

Only one monster, a Scientist named Roxy, ventured to the supposed living of the princess - the Ruins. It was a well hidden, forgotten place, but Roxy was used to seeking well hidden, forgotten things; when she reached the Ruins, she found that access was forbidden to her - or, more accurately, to anyone. She knew the princess was still inside, and thus, she began to speak.

It took time. A long, long time. But they both had plenty of it.

A friendship bloomed between the two between the door of the Ruins, Jane inside, Roxy outside. Eventually, she was able to befriend Jane to a point that she was told, very quietly, one thing: the rumours were false. The catastrophe was at the hand of the Witch only, not the fault of the humans. Jane did not speak to her for days after that.

When she did speak again, it was a request; for the scientist to look into Determination, the only thing - beyond Jane’s magic - keeping her human friend alive. She wanted to know if it was possible to reverse the effects of the Witch’s powers - because with the prince back, going into the Overworld may be a viable action.

The scientist quickly took the extracted Determination slipped through the door, and the slowing-rotting corpse of Jane’s only friend. With both in hand, she dashed away and holed herself up in her lab, performing experiment after experiment in order to achieve the goal she had been set - in order to make the princess happy once more.

Experimenting with monster dust and Determination led to terrible results. The Amalgamation she created could never disintegrate, but wanted to with all its hearts. She did her best to ensure that it - all of it - was happy, until it eventually accepted its fate, took on the name Dirk, and decided to be he instead. He helped her with her work, far more careful and calculating and risk-taking than she was willing to be, and together, they began to make progress.

But something was missing. No matter what they did, it failed in the end. Frustration led the scientist to drastic measures, and one day, she vanished.

The lab was given to another scientist. Though it took Jade some years to find and understand her predecessor’s notes, she eventually managed to piece together what she had found, believing it to be the only chance of escape from the Underground. She wasn’t sure why or what it all meant until she found a journal detailing the princess’ stories as told through a door in the Ruins, far, far away. Filled with the wonder of the Overworld, of the space and the possibilities and the endlessness, and the fury at the humans and their war, she threw herself into her work, desperate to see if what she had read was true.

The Underground moved on. The monster population began to flourish. Two new monsters appeared out of nowhere, odd Crows that seemed to wreck havoc and give help in turn. Nobody could say for sure where they had come from, but whoever they were, Dave and Davesprite soon settled themselves into the normal world of the Underground until there was barely a seam to show their fit.

Then, one day, a human appeared in the Underground.

With no recollection of who they were or how they’d gotten there, they went into the Ruins, coming across the princess in her isolation. Though shocked, she in equal parts of eagerness and tentativeness gives them a quest; to go through the Underground, reach its furthest point, and uncover the resting-place of her human friend. Only then could the human leave, however they had arrived - with the monsters following in tow.

The human leaves, and quickly comes across an odd, adventurous Greater Dog, whom excitedly shows them the ropes of adventuring (including a battle tutorial). Jake appears several times to encourage the human, sharing his fanciful tales and making a general nuisance of himself. He guides them towards the main town, whereupon they find two strange Crows.

The Crows seem to both like and dislike the human, flipping back and forth about how they each seem to feel. They put up halfhearted attempts to “stop” the human’s progress, but ultimately just let them move on, recognising that they’re absolutely no harm to the anyone in the Town or the Underground as a whole. They follow the human on their journey, attempting to figure out an odd feeling in the back of their heads - a little annoyance that tells them there’s something the human should watch out for, or be wary of.

They only realise what the feeling is when, part way through the journey towards the lab, they are cut off from the human.

Jade, in her isolation, has become staunchly anti-human.

Attempting to survive the lab and its surroundings is the only way for the human to survive. They trudge through dangerous death traps, complex puzzles that seem to hold no answer, tricky pathways that take them far, far out of their way before suddenly diverting back towards the lab. By the time they reach the lab itself, things seem to be getting easier, almost.

Except then they are very much accosted by the Amalgamate.

The only option is the run. The Amalgamate is very fast and very angry; tiring it out in battle, escaping from it, running as far as they can, and repeating is the only way for them to reach deep enough inside the lab that the scientist, in a turn of heart, can save them. She placates the enraged Amalgamate, gently encourages him to go back to his space within the lab, and greets the human.

She apologises for her behaviour - though they may not have seen it, she had set up all of the tricks and traps in order to kill them. She had been quickly surprised, however, by how determined the human was with solving all of her puzzles; rather than turn on tail, or march their way through guns-blazing, they had taken their time and stewed over her creations - and after so long without anyone to talk to besides Dirk, she had eventually found herself hoping the human would overcome her obstacles.

Recognising that they mean no harm, and thoroughly embarrassed with her actions, she questions why they are there. Realising that they have been sent by Jane, she begins to apologise more fervently - before suddenly dashing off to her notes. She comes back and explains that she has been working to complete the work of her predecessor, trying to tie together almost incomprehensible notes into an idea that would help the Underground as a whole. It has been slow going, and she always felt like something was missing - but with the human there, she seems to realise what she has to do.

She gives the human a vial of Determination, the last part she has left, and opens up the other side of the lab, encouraging them to go onward.

Nothing much happens (besides the reappearance of the Crows and the Greater Dog, who argue back and forth until Jake is forced to admit that he maybe isn’t as great of an adventurer as he thought since he’s never been past the lab, resulting in Dave and Davesprite feeling guilty and attempting to make him feel better - only to make it worse) until the human reaches the edge of the Dark Forest. There is a hush there suggesting that nothing living exists beyond the dark, nigh-dead grass, and as the monsters attempt to follow the human, they find that they instead walk into an invisible barrier.

Left alone, the human must traverse the confusing twists and turns of the forest. Blue mushrooms light the way towards the centre of the forest, where they there find a tentacled Cat monster. She informs them that her name is Rose, and that she has been waiting for them for a very, very long time. She then says that it is quite lovely to be able to meet the prince in person - or, at least, his detached SOUL.

She expositions that the previous Royal Scientist had, prior to her disappearance, founded the forest in an attempt to try and keep the prince alive, using the natural magic within it to turn into life force that would keep his body going. She then discovered that he was, in fact, only a body; his SOUL existed elsewhere, lost above in the Overworld when the Witch had snatched him away. Rose theorises that the Witch must have been using his SOUL in order to extend her own life and power, leaving the body to rot and wither away; and that Roxy had known this, and somehow “called” the SOUL to the Underground.

What lies ahead is, essentially, his decaying body. The Determination the prince’s SOUL carries within him should be the factor that binds SOUL and body together once more.

Rose judges him before he moves on. Pleased with how he has been behaving in the Underground, she lets him move onward without much issue, merely informing him that she’ll see him on the other side.

He marches on. As predicted, his SOUL enters his body and the Determination takes effect, bringing him back to life. A rumble shakes through the Underground almost as soon as the prince opens his eyes.

With the aid of his newfound friends, John makes his way back to the Ruins. He has a tearful reunion with Jane, who exclaims gleefully that the barrier she’d used to hide them has been broken, and that ever since it has, she’s heard no sound of fighting. She hopes that peace exists in the Overworld.

Of course, not all is that easy. The Witch is not yet dead, and furious to find that not only was her SOUL snatched back by its true owner, but also that an entire monster population existed outside of her reach. She immediately imprisons the monsters as Lost Souls, and begins a brutal battle with the prince, determined to take his SOUL and kill him once and for all.

John defeats the Witch, who melts away after her furious Determination causes her body to disintegrate. The monsters cautiously step into the light, wary of what might be waiting them outside...

And find a peaceful world, grateful for the Witch’s demise and the return of their ancient prince.

And some fun clarifications:

Roxy realised that she’d never be able to use determination on monsters. She also realised that she’d never be able to get a human into the Underground, being unable to leave to lure them in. Upon realising that John’s body no longer hosts his SOUL, and that the Witch likely still has it, she thrusts herself into her research, attempting to find a way to call out to his soul to return to his body. She eventually does; it’s a complex mixture of science and magic that results in the destruction of her own body, but allows her to pinpoint John’s soul, free it from the Witch, and essentially hook it back through the barrier and into the Underground.

Determination courses through her as she realises that there’s nothing left of her form. Desperate to see it through to the end, and to give John’s SOUL the best chance of survival in the Underground, she manages to split her remnants in two; two parts of a Shadow forming two Crows imbued only with the desire to protect. Dave and Davesprite are the only monsters she’s successfully been able to create. She’s not entirely sure how she was able to do it, but it should be noted that Dave and Davesprite are much more material and much less magical than most other monsters. (It should also be noted that they will live nowhere near as long as Monsters do and are essentially living on borrowed time, but a much more extended borrowed time than, say, Undyne the Undying).

That, of course, is the Pacifist route. It would be perfectly doable to slaughter every monster in the Underground, snatch up the determination, and then reach Jane, who sobs as she attempts to gain vengeance on her people, stating that humans must simply desire warfare and death and despair. In truth, it’s implied that the Witch still retains control over the SOUL. Having realised what Roxy was attempting to do, she destroys her control over the SOUL’s path and ensures that it follows her vicious whims and desires, slaughtering the monsters of the Underground in punishment of their defiance. Roxy still creates Dave and Davesprite from her remnants in his instance, but does so more to protect the Underground than to protect John.

Dave and Davesprite will battle more fervently if they think that John actually poses any sort of harm to the Underground, and battle him twice; once when they first meet him, and once more after he’s regained his body. Once both are defeated, their bodies will fuse together, becoming a broken Amalgamate of Roxy who tries to fix her mistakes. This secondary phase to the battle doesn’t last long; the Crows were already existing on borrowed time, and Roxy had already lost her body once. She fades away with her regrets.

Furthermore, in a No-Mercy run, Rose’s judgement would work much like Sans’ judgement. She will battle John in order to stop him from reaching his body, but doesn’t have anywhere near as much HP as any other monster. After she has exerted herself, John’s first hit will kill her immediately.

#homestuck #undertale #john egbert #dave strider #jade harley #rose lalonde #jane crocker #dirk strider #jake english #roxy lalonde #long post//#ardenttheories out of theory #hometale project

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miraculousturtle · 7 years ago

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to you, i thee wed (chapter eleven)

They didn’t know they were marrying each other until the bride got to the altar. And then panic ensued. Married at First Sight AU.

(AO3//FF.net)

Parts: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

WC: 5.8K

(yes, this is an update on 06-12-18 lol)

Magic spells weave their way into existence when girls fall in love for the first time. Little threads that flow across years, stitching together from the beginning when thunder sounds and lighting strikes. A soft pitter-patter of rain traps budding love under an umbrella, the sound mimicking the thudding in her chest.

The steady heartbeat under Marinette’s ear years later echoes that same youthful wish, a reassuring reminder that this is all real. Her husband strokes the notches of her spine as they doze through peppered rays of morning sun.

Words have magic, Marinette knows, but to think a startled hello could lead to this is mind boggling.

(I now pronounce you husband and wife.)

Adrien’s voice is rough with sleep. “I’m gonna miss you.”

She smiles against the fabric of his shirt, curling her fingers in the cotton. “It’s only for one day.”

“Yeah,” he says, pulling her closer. “But I like this.”

His arms are heavy and present around her, making her sink into the mattress in her childhood bedroom. She relishes this moment, letting it soak into her bones because there will never be another one quite as perfect. She pecks his shoulder in agreement before cuddling into the twilight of dreams and reality.

Adrien hums with sleepy delight, pushing her closer to memories of young superheroes with destruction and creation at their fingertips. Bright smiles and laughter ring happily in her ears, helping her forget the layers of unrest that are buried inches deep. Yet children grow up as days go by and Ladybug finds herself very much—

alone.

(Her yo-yo grapples with the edge of a building, but she slips mid-swing into nothingness. She falls and falls and falls...)

Marinette jolts awake seconds later, her heart pounding, but Chat Noir is not there to save her.

(Where did you go?)

Adrien hisses in pain, not completely awake, but getting there. He rubs his side with grimace. “You okay?”

(“Whoa. Be careful there, Bug.”)

She sends him an apologetic smile and sneaks a cool hand over his ribs. “Sorry. You ever hear about how your heart goes too slow so your brain freaks out because it thinks you’re dying so it wakes you up? So it makes you have falling dreams to give you a little jumpstart?”

“I’m gonna go with a solid no, but I take it that’s what happened? Your heart rate went too slow? Even with this handsome guy right next to you?”

Marinette giggles and shrugs her shoulders. “I don’t think I would call you handsome.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Adrien muses, his mouth quirking into a lopsided grin. “I’m hot stuff to you. I remember now.”

Marinette shakes her head and affectionately ruffles his hair. “I shouldn’t have told you that.”

“I completely disagree,” her husband says, snatching her hand and placing a kiss on her palm. “I’m glad to have all this blackmail on you.”

“Whatever. Let’s get up. We have a busy day ahead of us.”

Adrien pulls her down and she falls backwards on the bed. “Can’t. I’m broken.”

“Ha! I really think you’re not broken.”

“I feel broken. Brokenhearted that we won’t be able to spend all day together.”

Marinette rolls over and carefully rests her chin on his chest. Adrien grins and hugs her, silently gloating in his own personal victory. A tiny flame strokes her heart, feeding happily on his joy.

“It’s only for one day, you silly goose.”

“Believe I told you I was cat,” he retorts, unable to be swayed.

Playful exasperation rolls through her, yet she still smiles. “Adrien,” she warns.

“Marinette,” he replies, much the same.

“Gah, Adrien!” she pouts. “You’re making it impossible for me want to leave this bed now.”

“Ah, yes, my evil plans are working. If we stay in bed, then we don’t have to do work things.”

Marinette laughs and squirms out of his grasp. “Okay, but I actually have to do work things today. Like check on my shop and clean my apartment.”

“Your apartment can’t be that bad.”

“Sadly, my apartment is terrible. Pre-wedding disaster and all that,” she says. “Can’t have you over tomorrow when I don’t even remember what the floor looks like.”

Adrien sighs in defeat. “Yeah, mine is just as bad. Damn. Too bad we can’t live in a hotel or something.” He grins, patting her leg. “Or here! With your nice and fabulous parents!”

Marinette’s eyes go wide before crossing her arms into an x. “Nope! No, no, no,” she says sternly. “We are most definitely apartment hunting like a proper married couple and that’s that.”

She huffs for good measure, catching Adrien’s cheesy grin. She lightly leans into him. “What?”

He laughs and slowly gets up. “Nothing. You just remind me of someone I used to know. She could be very serious and sensible. I really admired that about her growing up.”

“Oh? What happened?”

He shrugs, eyes drifting elsewhere for a moment. “Eh, we fell out of touch when I moved away.” But he leans forward and presses a kiss to her cheek. “But thank you for being the practical partner right now.”

The little flame that rests inside her heart sparks bright as she turns her head and brushes her lips against his. “Should I show you just how practical I can really be?”

He halts for a moment, but then kisses her through his words. “Only if you give a thorough demonstration.”

Marinette smirks as her fingers caresses the side of his neck. “Of course, Professor,” she adds with a dramatic purr.

Adrien sucks in a startled, shuddering breath as she peppers kisses down his jawline and settles on the spot under his ear, and licking lavishly to bite the lobe. His fingers press into the skin underneath her nightshirt, resting precariously on the band of her shorts and the exposed parts of her hips. He moans slightly at the back of his throat as Marinette bites down on his neck.

“I thought,” he gasps, “you weren’t a morning person.”

She kisses the skin she almost bruised. “This morning wood be different if you weren’t here.” she whispers.

Adrien gulps, going still. “Oh.”

Marinette giggles in the crook of his neck and revels in his timidness. Oh, how the tables have turned. She preens as she kisses him again, her pride coming through her smile much to Adrien’s amusement.

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” he says, his voice deeper than usual.

“Mmm hmm,” she hums. “This is kinda my favorite morning pick-me up.”

Adrien laughs breathlessly as he snakes his hands to cradle the base of her neck, his light touch causing goosebumps to prickle at her flesh. Sensing the change in her attitude, he smirks as he kisses her, his tongue tracing the outline of her lips. He nibbles at her lower lip before the velvet of his tongue touches the inside of her mouth.

Marinette moans into the kiss, her face flaming hot as Adrien touches her shoulders and her back, holding her so close that all she can taste is him. She melts into his hold, content to be thoroughly kissed while their shirts rise up and they are skin to skin. Need sparks at this touch and temptations whisper in her ear to seek more.

She clings to him, her hands lost in his hair as she brings him closer, never wanting to let go. Adrien partially lays atop her, his weight a pleasant sensation and she squeals girlishly in delight. Wandering hands travel up the curve of his spine, and he kisses her harder for a brief moment.

Adrien pulls away panting seconds later, hair disheveled and green eyes bright with want. He smiles, small and tender, touching a part of her soul she didn't know she had, and cups her face. His thumb strokes the apple of her cheek.

They lay in silence, Marinette under his gaze, her world vibrant green with flecks of gold. She swallows as her eyes travel to his swollen mouth, his lips red and gorgeous. He smirks.

“Good morning.”

Marinette blinks before she laughs, her nose wrinkling as she leans to kiss him again. “Good morn—”

There is a loud knock at the trap door, and both Marinette and Adrien spring apart.

“Marinette! Adrien! Breakfast is ready!”

Adrien’s head whips toward the sound of her mother’s voice, his stomach grumbling.

Marinette laughs and stands, offering her hand. “Come on, hot stuff. Let’s go eat the most important meal of the day.”

Her husband presses his lips to her hand and winks. “It sounds like a date.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

Adrien slowly stands with little help, but joy echoes in his voice. “Hey, you’re the one who willingly married me.”

The tray settles on the coffee table with a quiet thud in her parent’s living room. Freshly dressed and slightly nervous, Marinette and Adrien greet Doctor Laurens for their first marriage counseling meeting. She pours hot, steaming liquid into wintery white mugs without spilling a drop. Crisp aromatic coffee creates a cozy scent that she hopes settles into the appointment.

“Thank you for meeting us at the bakery,” Marinette says.

Adrien hums in agreement, a knife in his hand clinking against the plate as he hands the doctor a piece of dark chocolate cake. “Yeah, no. Thank you. We really appreciate it.”

The doctor laughs, delight etched in her features as she forks a piece of cake in anticipation. “We can have all our meetings here if your parents continue to bake for us. It all smells so good.”

Marinette warms at the praise. “Wait till you taste it. It’s even better.”

Doctor Laurens does as instructed and melts under the taste. Sipping her black coffee, she basks in the generous hospitality. “Oh, the other two are going to be so jealous that I came here today and they didn’t,” she says.

Marinette preens again and pours coffee both for herself and Adrien. Nerves dance under her skin, but so far, she keeps the dark doubts at bay. Playing a good host helps her be brave.

Adrien sighs happily as he takes a bite of his own cake. “Seriously, your family bakes so well.”

Marinette peeks at her husband from the corner of her eye, mug perched at her lips. “Wait until Papa actually bakes. A simple chocolate cake like this? Done in his sleep.”

“And your mom?”

“Ah, Maman creates the most stunning spun sugar creations. She wins a lot of competitions! Really my parents could be executive pastry chefs to the most famous hotels in the world, but they like running a simple and sweet bakery instead,” she says dreamily. “They are by far the sweetest and most humble people I know. I really love them…”

At everyone’s silence, Marinette blinks and blushes at her own rambling. She hastily sips her coffee, but slightly burns her tongue. Adrien rushes to hand her a napkin as some dribbles down her chin.

Doctor Laurens chuckles as she eyes them both, a pleasant smile on her face. Taking reprieve in one bite of cake, she grabs her notebook. Adjusting her glasses on her nose, she focuses on the newlyweds across the table. “Shall we get started?”

Marinette takes a breath and nods. “I think so.”

(She hopes.)

Adrien squeezes her knee in solidarity.

Doctor Laurens leans forward. “First and foremost, my colleagues and I want to apologize for somehow missing the fact that the two of you knew each other before the wedding, but…” she trails off, mouth twisting with mischief. “You two have certainly become the most fascinating outliers in our experiment in more ways than one. And your updates about doing your assignments have been generally positive.”

Adrien lets out a little laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, um, it really caught us off guard, but...I don’t know...it’s been really nice…” he says, taking a quick glance at Marinette. “Marinette is a very wonderful person to be married to…”

This is the part where Marinette reminds herself to breathe before she forgets how, but her skin is on fire from head to toe from Adrien’s praise and it’s only been a little over a week since they’ve been married and—

(Once upon a time, a little girl used to not like herself at all. She thought she was useless and clumsy and not cool and even though she’s grown up, that little girl still speaks up from time to time, still—

—wishes she’d just get things right.)

“Do you worry that this is all too good to be true?”

Adrien whips toward her direction, his laughter gone. The world becomes purple, doubts outlining her vision and she refuses to look at him right now.

Doctor Laurens tilts her head to the side. “Oh?”

All eyes on her and Marinette’s heart is ramming in her chest, about to pop out, spilling all her secrets. Tension rolls off her husband in waves and a part of her wishes she could take back the last five seconds, but she won’t.

She can’t.

(Words have magic, she knows, and sometimes curses need to be cast first.)

She swallows, fingers clenched into tight fists. “Yeah,” she whispers. “I really do.”

“Why is that, Marinette?”

The question is expected, but she inwardly flinches. Briefly glancing at her husband, Adrien’s mouth in a firm line. Yet she refuses to back down, her resolve already made. She’s not the same girl she used to be, not afraid of failing.

“What if,” she starts before pausing, carefully chewing on the words she wants to say. “What if we fuck it all up so much we end up in a divorce? What if I fuck it up so badly that we never want to speak to each other again?” she says, gaining momentum. “I married Adrien Agreste, a boy I used to know, and now we’re legally bound to each other? That’s just...that’s just a lot to ask someone.”

Doctor Laurens gaze is calm, her voice simple, without accusation. “But you knew divorce was a possibly when you signed up. You knew that it might not work out.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s just—Adrien’s not a stranger to me. He’s much more important than that for me to treat him like a stranger. And maybe I’m just processing everything still, but I feel if I don’t take this seriously then it’s all going to fall apart and I am terrified—”

Her words come to a swift halt with a gentle hand atop of hers.

She stutters a gasp, the room coming into focus as green fills her view.

“Hey,” her husband says. “I’m scared too. Just as terrified . Just as scared for the same reasons.” He runs his other hand through his hair, shifting more to face her. “Look, I was ready to walk away from all of this on our wedding day when I came and found you, but then—Marinette,” he pauses, a shy smile peeking through. “I don’t think I’ve told you this, but you were the reason I decided to go through with this.”

“Wh-what? Me?”

Adrien chuckles. “Yes, you. When I was about to call everything off, you just—you were so passionate in that moment when you said you wanted to marry me, there was no way in hell I was going to walk away from such a declaration. I had to, well, I had to marry you,” he says warmly. “If only for a moment, I didn’t want to lose my chance to be your husband.”

Marinette’s heart skips a beat, warmth rushing through her body. There’s a ringing sound squealing from somewhere, but she’s not sure where, until she feels cool tears drip down cheeks as she chokes out a sob and tries to compose herself.

Oh, I’m surprise wailing. Oh dear.

“Marinette? No, no, don’t cry!”

She nods and sucks in deep breath, her chest heaving slightly still, but she’s no longer wailing. She lets out a watery laugh. “Ugh, I’m sorry,” she says. “You just...caught me off guard! And I’m just...really touched,” she laughs again. “Wow, I forgot how wild therapy can be!”

Doctor Laurens hands hands her a tissue packet. “It’s even more intense when there are two people. Do you feel better now? That was quite an emotional display.”

Marinette blushes deep red and turns towards Adrien. “I’m not sure exactly how I feel, but it’s a good weird, to say the least…” She smiles and grabs his hand again. “But, thank you. I don’t know how to respond to that eloquently, but just know I’m glad I married you. I’m just still...processing, I guess?”

His fingers are her tether. “Thank you. Me too. Processing and stuff.”

“And when you came after me, by the way, you’re the reason I didn’t give up. I wanted to. Badly,” she admits. “But you looked very princely chasing after me and well, how can a girl say no to that?”

Adrien laughs. “Good to know then, my princess.”

Marinette pauses at that, a memory in the back of her mind getting caught on the nickname, but she’s not exactly sure why. As she searches for the memory on the tip of her tongue, Doctor Laurens’ voice pulls her out of her thinking.

“I’m really proud of you both,” the doctor says. “I think despite how much the two of you have had to process, I am beyond amazed at how well the both of you are able to keep positive attitudes. Really, that’s the number one reason these marriages fail: they have poor attitudes.”

“Oh?” Adrien asks. “How come?”

“Well,” she explains “It is awfully scary to marry someone you don’t know. While there is only so much trust you can have in us to match you with someone who will compliment you and your values, people are still unpredictable.” Taking a moment to sip her coffee, she continues. “For example, a large reason the two of you were paired was because how much you both focused on equality and being partners in your marriage. But, who knows? Maybe things won’t be so even in practice. After all, have you two talked about what type of place you want to rent in the meantime?”

“It doesn’t matter,” they both say, then laugh.

“As long as it’s a good compromise between work for both of us, I’m sure we can figure something out,” Marinette adds.

Adrien looks at her and nods. “Yeah, and money won’t be an issue, so whatever Marinette wants.”

“Yeah—wait, what?”

“What?”

The mood changes with Marinette’s next sentence. “What do you mean money won’t be an issue?”

“Um, Marinette? I kinda own a fashion empire?”

“So? That doesn’t mean anything. We still have to budget no matter how much money you have. I don’t want you to—to just pay for everything!”

Sweet feelings gone, Adrien straightens his shoulders. “Not to sound like a douche, but it really isn’t going to make a dent in my wallet.”

“...you still sound like a douche and that doesn’t mean it’s not going to make a dent in mine.”

Adrien huffs. “Okay, fair. But I want to at least pay the rent. That seems like a husbandly thing to do.”

“And while the offer is sweet, I would rather if we could split it because that seems like the modern thing to do.”

“It’s just rent, Marinette,” Adrien argues. “You can pick whatever you like as long as you’re happy. Why won’t you let me do this for you?”

Marinette sighs, suddenly feeling exhausted. “And I do want to be happy, but it doesn’t feel right for you to just all for rent for some fancy-ass apartment.”

“Fancy-ass? What—”

“Okay, okay. Hold on here, you two,” Doctor Laurens interrupts. Rubbing her forehead, she mumbles to herself. “Wow, I did not see money being such an issue for you two.”

Marinette pins her gaze on her. “Why do you say that?”

The doctor sighs. “In the grand scheme of things, Marinette, isn’t it nice to have a partner who can help with the bills while you’re so busy with your business?”

Marinette blinks and forces herself to take a calming breath. “Yes, I do think it’d be nice to have my husband financially support me, but I don’t think it’s appropriate to take advantage of Adrien in the middle of this experiment. Despite that we’re legally married, it’s not like we planned this. It’s not like—” she pauses. “It’s not like we had time to plan a life together since we were never together when we got married. I just don’t think I can take his money.”

“Marinette,” Adrien says, sounding just as tired as she feels. “No one is accusing you of taking my money. Can’t you just at least think about it? About me paying the rent.”

“I…”

Doctor Laurens clears her throat. “Marinette, let me put it this way for you: Adrien paying the rent doesn’t make you less than equals, you see? In a marriage, you share what you have.”

“But—our marriage is still so new!”

The doctor continues, wearing a small smile. “Before we end today’s session, let me offer this suggestion to you both: you are not obligated to take care of each other in a marriage, but do so willingly because you want to. You do not have to do each task fifty-fifty, but instead find a balance in all your tasks to make sure the work is divided as best as it can be in the moment. Sometimes that means you will be the sole provider financially, but you’ll need lots of emotional support. Sometimes you’ll be the sick one and sometimes you’ll be the caretaker. At the end of the day, you are a team, and each thing you do is important. For both of you will always be equal if you work together however you deem fit, okay?”

Marinette nods, tentatively agreeing.

“Okay,” Adrien says, his tone not completely convinced either, but trying.

Doctor Laurens stands and grabs her purse, adjusting the strap on her shoulder. “I think the two of you have some things to think about,” she says cheerily. “Don’t worry about me, I can show myself out. See you both soon for our next appointment!”

Both husband and wife nod and watch wordlessly as she leaves the apartment before the door shuts with a small click.

The buzzing in Adrien’s pocket fills the room. He quietly drags his phone out of his pocket and silences it. There’s a figurative ticking that Marinette can hear as seconds go by, neither saying anything.

“Well—” Adrien says, trying to break the silence, but comes up short.

Marinette swallows and bobs her head. “Yeah...I feel kinda weird now.”

Adrien drops his head to his knees and heaves a large sigh. “Me too, and I have to go….do you...do you want to walk me out?”

Marinette straightens up and nods awkwardly. “Yeah, sure. I’d—that sounds like a good idea.”

They both get up and Adrien grabs his coat off the rack. Shrugging it on, he picks up his packed duffle bag and rocks stiffly on his heels. Marinette takes time with her steps, not exactly sure how to complete this conversation when everything feels a bit...off...now with so many emotions spent between them.

“Well, um, I’ll see you tomorrow? And uh, have a good day at work?”

Adrien smiles tightly, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. His fingers fidget with the strap of his bag across his chest.

“Marinette—”

“—Adrien.”

They both speak at the same time, but interrupt the other. Both shut their mouths immediately and try to encourage their spouse to speak.

“You were saying—”

“No, no—you first.”

Adrien sighs and walks forward, pulling her into a hug. “I’m still—processing whatever that was but, I meant what I said this morning. I’m gonna miss you today.”

Marinette breathes deep and catches the cool scent of his cologne. “Yeah, me too....fights are normal I guess?”

His chest vibrates under her ear. “Very normal, I think.”

“I don’t like it,” she whispers.

Soft lips find her forehead. “Same.”

Marinette looks up at her husband and steps on her tiptoes. “Be safe and come back soon.”

And despite everything, the wide smile on Adrien’s face made things a bit better.

“Will do.”

To: Marinette Dupain-Cheng

From: Emilie A.

Subject: Commission Appointment?

Dear Ms. Dupain-Cheng,

Hello, my name is Emilie. I truly do adore your work. There is such a quiet beauty to your pieces that create a timeless look. I would like to meet in person to commission some unique outfits from you. What is the best way to go about that?

Thank you.

Best,

Emilie

To: Emilie A.

From: Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Subject: Re: Commission Appointment?

Dear Emilie,

Thank you so much for the kind words! I have been developing my style for a long time now and it has finally taken its shape that I am more than happy enough to create.

I would love to meet in person so that you can try on pieces that I have already. We can meet at my store W-F of this week.

Which would be better: a morning or afternoon appointment?

Sincerely,

Marinette

Marinette tucks her phone into her back pocket, a small smile on her face despite her uneasy heart. She rubs the ache out of her shoulder and leans against the counter. Tikki lounges on a little sofa while chewing a stray chocolate chip as if it was a kwami-sized bon bon. The song and dance number of a bollywood movie echo in the kitchen.

Her eyes linger on the golden outfits and upbeat love song in the movie. A beautiful woman and a handsome man play hide and seek but never fully catch the other. Tikki doesn’t need subtitles to understand what it’s saying, so Marinette isn’t exactly sure what is happening in the plot, but it at least sounds fun.

Thoughts drifting back to the recent email, Marinette stretches her back and sighs contentedly. The center of her chest hurts, but she pushes it away.

“At least that’s one good thing,” she mumbles to herself.

Tikki’s antenna moves in her direction and she pauses the movie. “What’s wrong, Marinette? Is it the apartment? I think you’ve made great progress! It wasn’t as bad as I remembered…”

Marinette laughs and picks up one of Tikki’s cookies. “I should take offense to that, but I gotta say, it really helped with you picking up all the stray wrappers you stashed everywhere!”

“I stashed away? Excuse me?!”

Marinette lightly pokes the small god’s forehead. “Uh-huh. You and that big sweet-tooth of yours. I thought I was going to be stepping on candy and cookie wrappers for weeks!”

Tikkie puffs out her cheeks and pouts. “You make it sound like I have a problem.”

“Oh, you definitely have a problem. Full-on sugar addiction. But I think retirement has made some kwami a little lazy,” Marinette sing-songs with a giggle.

Tikki bounces up from her seat and points a little nub at herself. “Lazy?! Me? Lazy!??”

Marinette bites back a grin. “Yes. You.”

Tikki flies up and becomes eye level with her charge. She gestures to herself again, adorably infuriated by Marinette’s claims. Marinette has to remind herself to not laugh as she’s lectured by a creature that fits in the palm of her hand.

“I am a kwami,” Tikki emphasizes. “A being of creation, a god of good luck who has in turn created hundreds of demi-gods spanning eons and yet you dare call me lazy?!” Tikki moves her little nubs, utterly flabbergasted. “Am I getting fat by human standards? Is that the problem?”

Marinette finally breaks and she buries her face in her arms while she laughs. She feels Tikki tug on her hair lightly, whining to tell her what’s going on. When Marinette finally peers up, she is met with one ruffled little god.

She affectionately pets the side of Tikki’s bobblehead. “I’m sorry,” Marinette apologies. Her eyes crinkle at the corners from her smile. “I just love to get you all riled up sometimes. It’s cute~”

Tikki blinks for a moment, but then her face twists with annoyance. Throwing her head back, she groans her displeasure. “Marinette~” she whines. “You know how gullible I can be!”

“Of course I know, oh wise god of creation,” she retorts. “Why do you think I gotta exploit it when I can for….THIS.”

Marinette’s hand dart from her side and she tickles her little god. Tikki’s laughter rings through the air as she begs for mercy, but Marinette is having too much fun.

“All the tickles for Tikki!”

“Ma-Marinette!” Tikkie cries. “You’re too big! No fair! Mercy, mercy!”

After one final onslaught, Marinette relents, giggling at the way Tikki slightly pants from being so winded. She rests her chin in her hand and offers her finger as a truce. “You’re the most important thing in my life, you know?”

Tikki looks at her and hugs her finger. “I love you too, Marinette.”

Marinette whispers her love when she is most comfortable in the quietness of the moment or so she’s been told. She lets her affections fall easily from her lips and from her hands as she appreciates those she cherishes most. In these moments, like after intense laughter or in the wee hours of the morning, her heart thinks more than her brain.

The refrigerator kicks on with a hum, the overhead light buzzing.

“What’s wrong, Marinette?” Tikki asks.

With such a simple statement, the mood veers from silly to serious. Marinette sighs and lets the unease that’s been weighing her shoulders since this morning speak.

“Do you I think I rushed into this whole arranged marriage thing?”

The red kwami gives a small smile. “In my experience, arranged marriages are usually a rushed thing unless you’re a prince or a princess.”

“I don’t know him, Tikki. Like, really know him.” Marinette confesses in the small walls of her home. In her space. In a place she is going to have to give up for thirty days after the end of this week.

Tikki hums thoughtfully. “I think you know him better than you think. And marriage, no matter how well you have known someone, no matter how long you were with them, ends up creating two new people anyway. Like a metamorphosis.

“But,” she adds, booping Marinette on the nose, “the change will be a good thing. I can feel it. Trust me, Ladybug, as you have done for all these years.”

Marinette swallows down tangled emotions and weakly nods. “Okay. I will.”

“Good, because you’re my current favorite Ladybug.”

Marinette scoffs. “I’m your only current Ladybug.”

Looking over at the window, the sun has set and makes her wistful of when she would patrol after doing homework on school nights. An idea strikes her then and she finds it in herself to smile.

“Hey. Do you know what we should do?”

Tikki eyes her, curious at her excited tone. “What?”

Marinette kisses her kwami’s head. “Become Ladybug and remind Paris that their luckiest gal still likes to be seen in the evenings.”

Tikki gasps and beams. “Let’s do it!”

Marinette smirks and says the phrase she didn’t know she missed so much until today.

“Tikki, spots on!”

The transition from autumn to winter leaves Paris chilly, stuck with a sleepiness that covers the city. Lights twinkle like a starry sky, and Ladybug trapezes over rooftops with ease. She knows Paris like an intimate lover, knows her every curve, her every line. Her yo-yo catches on steel beams before she throws herself to fly over streets again.

She can hear the people’s whispers and shouts as they see her rush by, call after her in good cheers and Ladybug feels the weight of her life melt away until she walks on air. The world happily turns this evening and Ladybug is glad to be a part of it.

Peace kisses her skin with tenderness after all these years, but in its touch, a part of her still rings empty. Peacetime follows Ladybug into adulthood without half her heart.

She doesn’t let it hold her down anymore aside from wistful wishing.

("When we defeat Hawkmoth, we should go on a real vacation together. Just you, me, and our kwamis. It'll be perfect!")

Melancholy doesn’t suit red or hope, but in all the new things in her life, Ladybug wishes for a moment she can revel in familiar people and things. Her dream comes back from this morning in which Chat Noir didn’t catch her, but—

—for a split second, she thought she heard his voice.

Loneliness presents in weird ways, she reminds herself and finds herself at their old homebase.

The symbol of Paris greets her without words as Ladybug takes a seat in one of the many steel beams. There is comfort here as she leans against the cool metal, catching glimpses of lovers walking down below, clasped hand in hand. Random reminiscing reminds her of a time when she moved her hand too close to her partner’s and the way her face heated up afterwards. Oh, how that confused her for months afterward, she remembers fondly.

"Oh, Chat, where are you?" she wonders to the Eiffel Tower. "Can't you come home now?”

Ladybug asks this time and time again and yet, the world never changes. Paris is still Paris as she is still Marinette. Never a sign that her other half will come, never anything, neither a hello nor a goodbye and yet—

The hairs on the back of her neck stand up, as if with one blink her soul knows something is about to change. She swallows as air shifts into something heavy, a little vibration tingling through the metal under her seat.

"Is there still a home for me to come back to?"

A chill goes down her spine. Her heart sticks in her throat as she peers over her shoulder, and time stands still.

Outlined by moonlight, Chat Noir wears a weak smile. Taller and older, Ladybug knows that smile anywhere, from the curve of his lips to the white of his teeth. Her heart knows even quicker when she tries to stand up, but she can't move.

"Wh-when—" she tries to quip, but everything gets caught on her tongue. "Of course," she rasps.

She's not sure exactly who moves first or how they end up this way, but the relief that sinks into her very bones by his embrace is all she can hold on to in this moment. Her face burrows into his chest and his chin rests atop her head and they cling to each other like every hello and goodbye they've missed over the years.

Every moment, every smile, every—time they didn't say "I love you" and "Be safe" one last time and—

—well, they cry.

(There'll be time to kill him later. He has nine lives for a reason.)

THANK YOU FOR READING.

was there plot in this chapter or what? Dear lord. Much plot. Could I break it up? NO. Not really.

Here is the part where I usually ramble and stuff about my life. Anyway, I have been at my new job for about six months now! Yay! I'm also out of the house 12 hours a day! Not yay! But I am starting a career so yay!

My mom is doing really great! Extra yay! Her health seems to be good and that's awesome.

Um, let's see. I'm also working on a poetry collection for young adults! And coming back to this was a little hard because my brain was like POETRY and writing prose took a little bit to get back into.

I would like to thank my beta readers: @booksfullofme and @princessofharte. They did a great a job!

Thank you so much for all the continued support from kudos, comments, bookmarks, and subs!

Love you!!!!

P.S. Buy Me A Coffee?

#miraculous ladybug #adrienette #adrien agreste #marinette dupain chang #marriage au #ladynoir #look #an update #that happens #hahaha

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hallowedhearthstone · 6 years ago

Text

Character Chart

Character’s Full Name: Ariandielle Aranna Dal’anar

Reason or Meaning of Name: N/A

Character’s Nickname/Alias: Elle, mostly. Andi or Freckles by her husband.

Reason for Nickname/Alias: Her nicknames are just necessary shortenings of her absurdly long name. But Freckles is a more physically based nickname, obviously because of her characteristic freckles.

Birth Date: March 8th

Physical appearance

Age: 133

How old does he/she appear: Late 20′s - early 30′s

Weight: 122lbs

Height: 5′2

Body build: Soft, Clearly a caster

Shape of face: Square-jawed with feminine features

Eye color: A bright teal which, on closer inspection is actually a bright blue with neon green accents

Glasses or contacts: Neither

Skin tone: Pale

Distinguishing marks: She bears distinct freckles across her cheeks and nose, on the tips of her ears, her shoulders and at her lower back.

Predominant features: HAIR

Hair color: A deep, ruddy brown

Type of hair: Long, thick, and wavy.

Hairstyle: All over the place, and consistently raked back by her fingers

Voice: Sweet and calm with a posh English accent.

Overall Attractiveness: She’s a solid 8, but that might just be me.

Physical Disabilities: She’s short af, is that a disability?

Usual Fashion of Dress: Conservative gowns with rich colors and bold accents.

Favorite Outfit: N/A

Jewelry or Accessories: She wears a necklace made from a bracelet her husband gave her. The charm that sits on her collar serves as a reminder that the best way is usually not the easiest.

Personality

Good Personality Traits: Calm and welcoming. She’s a steadfast friend and an understanding woman, often to a fault.

Bad Personality Traits: She’s a jealous woman, the sort to hold everything in until it becomes an issue, and she doesn’t really take care of herself emotionally.

Mood Character is Most Often In: Comfortable

Sense of Humor: Dry and deadpan, or impish teasing - depending on how well she knows the person she’s joking with.

Character’s Greatest Joy In Life: Her children, all 6 of them.

Character’s Greatest Fear: Being a bad mother to her brood, letting people down, losing her husband, her brother (just in general), and fire.

What single event would most throw this character’s life into complete turmoil? Seridyn’s death

Character Is Most at Ease When: In small groups of people or at home with her family.

Most Ill at Ease When: Large gatherings are ill-fitted for her. She usually ends up with a painful headache mere minutes into it.

Enraged When: Someone threatens her children.

Depressed or Sad When: It comes and goes. She has moods and lulls like everyone else.

Life Philosophy: The only way out is through.

If Granted One Wish, It Would Be: There isn’t anything she would change, so perhaps.. financial security for the rest of her life and the lives of her children.

Character’s Soft Spot: Men trying to redeem themselves

Is This Soft Spot Obvious to Others?: Probably, if you know her well enough.

Greatest Strength: Tenacity

Greatest Vulnerability or Weakness: Her empathy often works against her

Biggest Regret: Not saving her brother

Minor Regret: There is one secret she keeps, and she regrets ever letting that lie get started.

Biggest Accomplishment: She once ran a successful business, offering personal therapy to those in need.

Minor Accomplishment: Nowadays? Making it through the day without collapsing.

Past failures he/she would be embarrassed to have people know about: Way too many to list here. Character’s Darkest Secret: For fear of metagaming, I can’t put that out onto this blog. Her darkest secret isn’t terribly dark - most people already know about her brother - but it is something she holds close to her chest.

Does Anyone Else Know?: Seridyn, but only recently.

Goals

Drives and Motivations: Meeting her family’s needs

Immediate Goals: Making it through the day, managing to sneak in a meal or a few moments with her husband while the kids sleep. And a shower.

Long Term Goals: Possibly opening up that orphanage

How the character plans to accomplish these goals: Nothing’s set in stone

How Other Characters Will Be Affected: Some kids might find a home?

Past

Hometown: Northern Quel’thalas. A large estate just outside of Silvermoon City.

Type of Childhood: Studious, well-cared-for, a little spoiled maybe.

Pets: N/A

First Memory: Watching the shadows of the snowfall on her wall as she tried to sleep

Most Important Childhood Memory: Her family’s murder? I mean...

Childhood Hero: Aegwynn

Dream Job: Arcanist

Education: Higher education in the principles and application of magic - specifically cryomancy, and personal tutoring in all subjects

Religion: N/A

Finances: Wealthy

Present

Current Location: Valley of the Four Winds, Pandaria

Currently Living With: Herself, Seridyn, and her children.

Pets: Soliloquy, a tabby cat that comes and goes as it pleases. Omen, a raven given to Aelwynn as a gift.

Religion: N/A

Occupation: Stay at home mother

Finances: Struggling (She no longer works due to time constraints and there are a lot of mouths to feed)

Family

Siblings: Two brothers, one deceased - the other... probably deceased?

Relationship With Them: Non-existent

Spouse: Seridyn

Relationship With Them: Solid

Children: In order of age: Erelle (Nightborne, adopted), Aelwynn, Sebastian, Taeral, Verrin, Andulin

Relationship With Them: Good

Other Important Family Members: N/A

Favorites

Color: Blue

Least Favorite Color: Red

Music: Anything upbeat

Food: Nothing specific, but she’s fond of meat and potato meals

Literature: Romance

Form of Entertainment: Hearthstone

Expressions: That look that Seridyn gets when he’s up to no good...

Mode of Transportation: Teleportation

Most Prized Possession: She doesn’t put a lot of stock into material things. But I guess her necklace?

Habits

Hobbies: Cooking, gardening, alchemy, fishing

Plays a musical instrument?: No

Plays a sport?: No

How she would spend a rainy day?: Inside with a book and a cup of tea

Spending Habits: Very frugal

Smokes: No

Drinks: Once in a while

Other Drugs: No

What does he/she do too much of?: Breed...?

What does he/she do too little of?: Spend time on herself

Extremely Skilled At: Cryomancy and Alchemy

Extremely Unskilled At: Turning away someone that needs her help

Nervous Tics: Running her fingers through her hair

Usual Body Posture: Weight on her left foot, chin raised haughtily

Mannerisms: Proper and demure, always watching those around her with affection

Peculiarities: Her empathic abilities give her insight into those nearby and she finds it hard not to react to the thoughts of others sometimes.

Traits

Optimist or Pessimist?: Realist

Introvert or Extrovert?: Introvert

Daredevil or Cautious?: Cautious

Logical or Emotional?: Emotional, but she does try to think things through before reacting

Disorderly and Messy or Methodical and Neat?: Very neat and organized

Prefers Working or Relaxing?: Relaxing

Confident or Unsure of Himself?: Confident in some things, uncertain in others.

Animal lover?: Oh yes

Self-perception

How She Feels About Herself: Fairly neutral

One Word Character Would Use To Describe Themselves: Underwhelming

Paragraph Description on How They’d Describe Themselves: I am... haunted and frequently melancholy, but I try to engage, to listen, to understand the people around me, so that I can help to make their lives a little easier.

What does the character consider his/her best personality trait?: Tenderness

What does the character consider his/her worst personality trait?: Her guilt complex

What does the character consider his/her best physical characteristic?: Her eyes

What does the character consider his/her worst physical characteristic?: Her hair

How does the character think others perceive him/her? Boring

What would the character most like to change about himself/herself? Nothing that she CAN change

Relationships with others

Opinion of Other People in General: Generally good, trying to make their way in the world however possible

Does the character hide his/her true opinions and emotions from others?: Sometimes

Person Character Most Hates: Herself

Best friend(s): Scarlet

Love interest(s): Just Seridyn

Person Character (Would) Go to For Advice: Seridyn, or Aden

Person Character Feels Responsible For: Her children

Person Character Feels Awkward Around: Death Knights

Person Character Openly Admires: Aden

Person Character Secretly Admires: N/A

#ariandielle #elle

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