#i think she has the ability to think 'hey i'd like this war to stop and i want to see my best friend again' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

brainyxbat · 3 months

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Chapter 8: Time to Fight Back! Usopp's Quick Thinking, and Fire Star!

(episode 76)

"We made it! Ah! So that's the second island in the Grand Line; Little Garden!"

"W-what's with this island?!"

"Collier Shoot!"

"L-Little Garden?! W-what's so little about this island?!"

"This is an island of ancient times. It's stuck in the age of the dinosaurs!"

"The duel has continued for 100 years now. I've forgotten the reason for it; but that doesn't matter, anyway."

"Then why?!"

"Pride!"

"Man, he's huge..."

"This is Elbaf, the God of War's... judgement! I didn't have his divine protection."

"Who is it?! Come out! You guys spoiled the old giant guys' duel! I'm gonna beat you up!"

"It's no use! Your friends are going to become my works of art!"

"Venus!"

"Luffy!"

"Ahh. Such nice tea."

"He was hit with the Tranquil Green!"

"Such... nice... tea."

"Luffy! What are you doing, you idiot?!" Usopp then spotted the green mark on his vest, and began to sneak up on him.

However, Mr. 5 saw him. "It's over for all of you." He took out his revolver. "This is my ultimate ability!"

"Special Attack: Exploding Star!" Usopp launched a bullet at him, and leaped in the air with Karoo, dodging his gunshots. His bullet hit the target: Luffy!

Ms. Golden Week jumped back when his vest burst into flames, and Ms. Valentine floated up in the air. "What an idiot! He missed his target, and hit his own friend!"

Usopp looked behind his back after Karoo landed. "Where'd his bullets go?!"

"Breeze Breath Bomb!"

Out of nowhere, an explosion erupted, sending Usopp and Karoo tumbling away. "Usopp-kun!" Venus' eye widened.

"I forgot to mention it, but my breath explodes."

Usopp landed with Karoo by the wax cake. "Dammit! This is insane! He had no bullets?! Karoo! You alright?!" He turned to the captain after Karoo quacked weakly. "Hey! You come to your senses?!"

"Y-yeah," Luffy regained his footing, now missing his vest, "I'm awake! Thanks!"

Ms. Valentine glared. "That attack was meant to burn his clothes, and the Trap on it, to undo the manipulation!"

Luffy panted in anger. "I've had enough of that paint! I refuse to let anyone else die! Now I'm mad!"

Meanwhile...

"It's definitely weird," An oblivious Sanji remarked in confusion, now back on the Going Merry, "Damn weird. Why hasn't anyone come back after all this time?" He had his larger catch on the shore close by. "Something must've happened to Nami-san, Venus-chan, Vivi-chan, and the rest. In which case, this is no time to be getting ready to cook a lizard!"

Using his catch as leverage, he leaped down in the jungle, and "persuaded" a saber-toothed tiger to give him a ride. "Nami-san! Venus-chan! Vivi-chan! Hey! Say something! I love you!" He stopped, and jumped down upon noticing a strange, cube-shaped structure. "What's this?"

Mr. 3 laughed evilly. "So what if you're mad? Just look at your friends now!"

"So what?! They're still alive!"

"Are they now? All they need now is some of Ms. Golden Week's paint, and they'll be exceptional wax figures!" Usopp was silent with fury. "You're too late, Straw Hat!" A tree collapsed nearby. "That's correct! You're not only late, but now you can experience even more despair!" More trees suffered the brunt of his next attack. "Move out!" Venus gaped in awe from the ground, as the wax formed a giant, robot-like battle suit. "Candle... Champion!"

Usopp and Karoo screamed in terror. "What's that?" Luffy asked.

"It's said he once took down a 42 million berry bounty with this," Mr. 5 replied.

"It's Mr. 3's ultimate artistic talent," Ms. Valentine added.

"Now, Ms. Golden Week! Perform an artistic paint job on me!"

"Can I take a break after that?"

"Yes, of course! I'd actually prefer you to stay out of this!" She nodded with a small smile. "Like this, I am invincible! This armor is hard as iron, and wrapped around me like velvet! My form now... has no flaws!"

Everyone stared on in silence, before Luffy brightened up. "S-so cool!"

"This is no time to be admiring him!" Usopp shouted.

"Fight!" Venus urged.

While Ms. Golden Week painted, Luffy prepared to attack. "Alright! Gum-Gum..." He reeled his fist into the jungle.

"Paint job complete!"

"Now, then!"

"Pistol!" His fist bounced off of the wax mech.

"Champ Fight! Harvest Field!" He spun the arms ferociously, the boxing gloves digging into the ground, as Luffy leaped away.

"Gum-Gum... Stamp!" He was ejected yet again.

"It's no use!"

"Not good!" Usopp frowned. "The guy's so solid, his attacks don't work!" Luffy landed on the cake by his decapacitated friends, then jumped off. Usopp and Karoo covered their mouths when the rain started falling on them. "Damn! The wax haze!"

"Don't turn into statues!" Venus exclaimed fearfully.

He stared at the white material on his hands. "Wax?" He turned to the spinning top; more specifically, the flaming candles. Flame? Of course! "Yeah! Why didn't I realize it?! The fact it turns into a mist means it can melt!" He turned to the captain, and the witch. "Luffy, Venus! Fire melts this guy's wax! No matter how hard it is, wax is still wax!"

"Yeah!" Venus perked up.

"Zoro, and all the others hardened only moments ago! We can save them!" Karoo quacked.

"What?! For real?!" He beamed.

"Yeah, for real," Ms. Golden Week confirmed.

Mr. 3 gaped in shock. "Don't admit that to them!"

"Too late!" Venus mocked.

"But even if you realize that now, you have neither time, or a chance of winning! 30 more seconds at most! After that, their hearts will completely stop! As we speak, they're probably writhing in pain with what little consciousness they have left, as they experience the terror of dying!"

Karoo pushed Usopp up on his feet. "We don't need 30 seconds! I'll save them now! Special Attack: Fire-"

"Breeze Breath Bomb!" Mr. 5 shot at him again, this time with a direct hit!"

"Usopp!" Luffy screamed.

"Usopp-kun!" Venus cried.

His slingshot was dropped, as he fell on his back. "Did you not hear him say you had no chance of winning?"

"Dammit!" Luffy cursed. "There's no time!"

Mr. 3 then appeared behind him. "Give it up!" Before Luffy could do anything, he was punched into the ground.

Usopp crawled over to Karoo, now with a rope on hand. "Listen, take this rope-"

"Oh?" Ms. Valentine floated over, interrupting him. "This looks like fun! Whatcha planning? Can I join in, too?"

Usopp was fearfully quiet for a few seconds. "Karoo! Run!" He loudly whispered, before finally shouting. "Run! Just run around the candlesticks!" Karoo quickly began doing as told.

Mr. 5 readied his revolver again. "Everything you try is pointless!"

"Pardon me." Ms. Valentine sat on Usopp's back. "Crescendo Stone! How many kilograms can you ensure, I wonder..." Karoo dodged the bullets, as he ran. "10 kilograms... 100 kilograms..." Usopp grunted in discomfort when her weight increased. "200 kilograms..." His eyes were wide, as he felt his lungs being compressed. "300 kilograms..." She was oblivious to Venus sneaking towards her ominously, dragging her heavy mallet restraint.

"Damn nimble bird!" Mr. 5 complained when he couldn't shoot Karoo.

Mr. 3 started punching at Luffy again. "Give it up! Give it up! They've become my works of art!"

"I don't think so!" Luffy leaped into the air. "I won't let you have their lives!" He grabbed his topknot, and made a beeline for the cake. "If fire can melt them, then I'll use this fire!"

"Don't pull! Stop!"

"Luffy!" Usopp protested, as Venus inched closer. He didn't see her either. "That small flame won't do it fast enough! Light Karoo's rope on fire!"

"The bird's rope?!" By now, Karoo had the rope wrapped all around the cake.

Usopp poured some kerosene on his end. "It's a special rope, soaked in oil!"

"Okay! Everyone! Wake up!"

"Hey! Wait! Stop!"

"It'll be a little hot, but endure it." Closer.

"Stop!" With one single touch, the whole structure erupted in flames. "Oww!" Mr. 3 struggled. "Hot! Hot!"

"What a big fire!" Luffy exclaimed. "Are they gonna be alright?!"

"Curse you... curse you, Straw Hat! How dare you destroy my Candle Service Set! You'll pay for this!"

Luffy turned around to find Mr. 3, and Ms. Golden Week attempting to flee into the jungle. "I won't let you get away, you jerks!"

A scared Karoo jumped back and forth, avoiding wax mounts falling around him. "Dammit! How dare you mock us!" Mr. 5 exclaimed.

Ms. Valentine punched Usopp's face. "Now you've done it! Playtime is over!" She shot up in the air. "I'm going to shatter that neck of yours into pieces! Special Attack: 10,000 Kilogram Guillotine!" Closer.

Usopp watched fearfully, as she started rocketing back down. "This is bad!"

Little did she realize, a certain someone was coming for her. Three someone's; Venus finally swung her restraint, while Vivi spun her slashers, and Nami (who was missing her shirt) wielded a staff, all to knock her away. As Venus dragged herself to him, Nami and Vivi stood back-to-back. "That was hot!" Nami remarked. "Couldn't you have done it a different way?"

Venus turned to her with a snarky look, as a stray ember ignited her mallet. "Ouch!" She yelped from the burn. "What other option was there, huh?"

An irritated Usopp managed to sit up with the witch's help. "Yeah, don't be fussy! Just be thankful you were saved!"

"You're right," Nami admitted, "Thanks!"

"This doesn't seem real," Vivi remarked, "We're alive!"

"The wax melted," Mr. 5 observed, "What a pain! We can't afford to screw up our mission any further!" He pointed his revolver, alarming the girls.

"Stay behind me," Usopp surprised Venus with his sudden bravery, "Mr. 5! Special Attack: Exploding Star!"

Mr. 5 ate the bullet again. "Fool! I've shown several times that explosives don't work on me! I'm an explosive man!"

"You took the bait!" Usopp grinned.

"Huh?" Venus looked up at him in confusion, and watched their adversary.

He soon sweating profusely, and his complexion was turning red. "So sorry! I'm a liar, you see!" Venus put her fingers to her mouth, stifling giggles. "That wasn't even an Exploding Star! It was a Special Tabasco Star!"

"Spicy!" Mr. 5 screamed, as fire shot from his mouth like a geyser.

Usopp laughed victoriously. "I already proved its effectiveness the hard way!"

"Alright, Usopp!" Venus cheered.

Mr. 5 collapsed to his knees. "Damn you pirates!" He coughed. "How dare you make a mockery of me!" Usopp's eyes widened in terror. "Time to blow up a full-body explosion!" He made a mad beeline for the sniper. "There won't even be bone fragments left!"

Just as he pushed Venus away to safety, he was trapped in a dangerous embrace. "No! Stop!" He thrashed frantically in his arms, but he was too strong.

"Usopp-kun!" She exclaimed.

"No! I'm sorry! I won't do it anymore!"

"Flaming Oni..." Zoro leaped from the fire, swords ready, "Giri!" Only Mr. 5 was affected; he was now ablaze, so Usopp was safe. "Flaming swords aren't too shabby," He remarked.

"Zoro!" Nami addressed him.

They were startled by a sudden quaking; it was Broggy! Also on fire, he stood on his feet, ready to fight. "Yo," Zoro greeted, "Good to see you're alive."

"Yeah," Broggy grinned, but it disappeared when he looked over Dorry's body.

"Master..."

Broggy perked back up, and gazed into the jungle. "That leaves two foes left."

"Bird!" Luffy ran after them with Karoo. "Don't let them get away with this!" They jumped over a fallen tree. "Real men don't spoil people's fights!" They skidded to a stop at what was in front of them: Mr. 3. Lots of him!

"How good of you to come! Welcome to my Wax-Wax Manor!"

"What is this?!"

"Well, then. Can you tell where I am?" Karoo glanced about hopelessly. "It would appear you picked a fight with the wrong people! We're the most intellectual team in all of Baroque Works! A brute force buffoon like you, who acts on instinct cannot catch us! I am Mr. 3. I carry out all assignments given to me flawlessly. Now, then! Step forward! The moment your back is turned to me, I'll stab you..." He had a dagger ready. "Right through the heart."

Through his laughter, Luffy eyed them all carefully... aha! "Gum-Gum... Stamp!" His foot shoved the real one into a tree.

"How... did you know," He stumbled forward deliriously, "I was here?" He then fell on his back in the grass.

Luffy was silent for a moment. "Instinct."

Just then, Karoo noticed Ms. Golden Week sneaking away, and charged in, to her terror.

In the wax house he found, Sanji poured himself some tea. "Afternoons are definitely best with Earl Grey." Just then, it hit him. "Hold on, now! This is no time for me to be drinking tea all fancy-like! Nami-san and the others might be waiting for me to help them!" He set the teacup down, and stood off the chair. "Still, though. What's such a relaxing place doing in the jungle?"

"Beta-beta-beta-beta-"

"Huh?" Sanji turned back at a strange ringing from a woven basket. "What's that?" He walked over, and lifted the top up. "Oh... it's a Transponder Snail." It was a purple snail, with a black handlebar mustache, and a shell that had teal and darker purple vertical stripes. Sanji set it on the table, and promptly answered. "Heya. You've called the Damn Restaurant. You want reservations?" For a few seconds, no one answered.

"Quit fooling around, dumbass," A deep, male voice chided, "Aren't you a bit late with your report?"

"Oh? Report?" Sanji replied curiously. "And who might I be talking to?"

"It's me. Mr. 0." At that, he frowned in determination. Mr. 0, huh?

#magical straw hat #one piece #one piece oc #tempeste g. venus #little garden #little garden arc

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yannowhatigiveup · 3 years

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A Blinded Kiss

I haven’t posted anything recently so I dug around in my WIPs to see if anything was even worth posting and I found this that I made a while ago. It certainly isn’t the best but it isn’t the worst out of all my other WIPs.

"Is this really necessary?" The bluenette asked, eyeing a blindfold given by her brotherly figure.

"Of course it is Pixie!" An older man with two-toned hair replied, way too over enthusiastic about the whole situation. "It's a great way to find your way around the manor”

"And it's a great family bonding experience too!" Another man in the room replied, even more enthusiastic than the first.

"Fine, I'll do it Jay" the blue-eyed girl huffed, twirling the blindfold between her fingers. "What are the rules again, Dick?"

Dick beamed at the girl before answering. "Well Mari, it's simple. Put the blindfold on, count to fifty, spin around and try to steal a hug from anyone in the manor"

"So I have to walk around the manor blindfolded and try to sneak up on you? You know that's impossible!" Marinette exclaimed, she would not go around the house looking like a touch-starved fool.

"That's exactly why we're doing it" Jason replied, shrugging his shoulders. "It'll last a long time."

After a few seconds, the blue-eyed girl sighed, giving in to both Jason and Dick. "Fine, if that's what makes you happy" Marinette wrapped the matte-black fabric tightly around her eyes, already struggling within the first few seconds. She began counting and she heard the two scuffling away, smiling while being able to tell which direction they went in. In the mean time, Marinette debated her options.

'Both Jason and Dick would be the ideal choices but they'll be able to hear me from a mile away. Tim would be the most logical one since he's half asleep, but where does he even go in this maze? God knows where Alfred is, Mr Wayne is scary. Damian-' She paused her train of thoughts, granted Marinette had only met him a few days ago but that didn't stop the crush she had heavily try to cease. 'He'd probably hear me from a mile away as well. This game is so unfair'

Soon enough, Marinette reached fifty and spun herself around, she used a bit too much force than needed so now not only was she blinded but she lost her sense of direction. Giving herself a minute to recover, the bluenette began to walk. Using her improved senses, thanks to the miraculous, Mari was slowly able to create a theoretical map in her mind, though it did take much more energy than she desired.

"Fighting an akuma is easier than this" The bluenette muttered as she hit her thigh along the corner of a wall.

Even though she was using her enhanced abilities, she'd pump into a corner or a wall every now and again, the amount of times increased when her energy was being used. After wondering a hall for what seemed like hours, the bluenette came to a staircase, one that she ever so carefully used to get to a higher floor. Once she did, she kept a hand on one of the walls, using it as a guide. Soon enough, her hand came to what felt like a doorframe. The door was closed she could tell but it was recent used due to the fact that the doorknob was warm. Making sure not to intrude, she knocked on said door, she almost missed the muffled 'come in' had she not been paying attention. Marinette opened the door, went in and quickly shut it behind her, taking a deep breath.

"Okay I hope you don't mind but which room is this and whose in the room? Dick and Jason thought it would be a good idea to walk around the manor blindfolded while trying to sneak up on them" The bluenette huffed, only to freeze when she heard a familiar chuckle.

"I've heard, you're in my room, It's Damian just to clarify" 'Sh-' "So, what task must be fulfilled to give you permission to take the blindfold off? I doubt you want to keep it on any longer" Marinette giggled.

"You're right, I would probably get lost of I continue. Um, I have to 'steal a hug' apparently"

"So you have to hug someone without them inspecting it" Damian came to that conclusion to which the bluenette nodded her head.

"Yeah that's basically it, hey do you have anywhere I could sit down? I'm getting tired..."

"Of course, my bed is five steps to your front and two steps to your right, make yourself comfortable" She wasn't sure how red she had gotten but she obliged anyway. Had she not been wearing the blindfold, she would've seen Damian smiling at her flustered state. Giving herself a moment to regain her energy, Marinette turned to where she presumed Damian was working at his desk. "Can I hug you? Jay never said I couldn't ask the person first. I-I won't if you don't want me to! I just wanted to ask so..."

She heard the boy thoughtfully hum before he made his way over to her. From what she could tell, Damian was now in front of Marinette, looming over her.

"Did Todd or Grayson say it had to be a hug?" Marinette tilted her head in confusion and thoughtfulness, that had never crossed her mind before.

"W-"

"What happens if I kiss you instead?"

The bluenette didn’t reply with words as she knew how terrible her words would be in her flustered state. But she wanted this, her heart longed for it in a way it never did for anyone else. Instead, she nodded, giving the green-eyed boy permission to do as he wished.

She felt his hand lightly tilt her chin up towards, where she presumed, his face was. Then he pressed his lips onto hers, his other had behind her head, tugging at the fabric around her eyes. Marinette felt bliss, she was glad that no one else would interrupt this moment. Shivers went down her spine as she felt Damian’s hands travel up from behind her neck and to wear the blindfold was knotted, gently tugging at the binding. She was glad that when her face was free from the fabric that comprised her vision, the first thing in her line of eyesight were Damian's deep emerald eyes, the shimmered the same way they had when she first laid eyes on him, she'd been enraptured ever since. The boy, however, was smirking as he noticed the pink that dusted her face. Without a moment passing, she threw herself the green-eyed boy, delivering a hug. As she pulled away, her hands cupped his face and she returned his embrace with one of her own. When she pulled away once more, she smiled in satisfaction at his flustered expression.

"When did you realise you had feelings for me?" Marinette asked softly, her forehead pressed against his trying to regain her breath.

"That's a very easy question" Damian stared lovingly into her eyes. "I fell the moment I saw you take down that Akuma three times your size" Her eyes widened.

"You know about me being Ladybug?"

"The same way you know I'm Robin"

They both smiled, creating a truce to not reveal anything.

"Well I better get going, see you later." She got up from the bed and opened the door, only to turn around and say "Je t'aime mon cœur" before exiting the room, leaving a blushing Damian.

Marinette walked back down the stairs, the piece of cloth in hand and small love-struck smile on her face. When she entered the main living room, she came face to face with the owner of the manor.

"Oh hello Mr Wayne"

"Hello Marinette, I see you managed to get the blindfold off" The older man gestured towards the piece of fabric in her hand. "And please, do call me Bruce. Who did you end up surprising with a hug then?"

She smiled brightly before replying. "Damian"

His usual formal demeanor broke for a moment but Bruce quickly picked the pieces back up. "He didn't attack you or injure you in any shape or form?"

Marinette decided to play the oblivious little girl. "No..? Why, does he do it often?" Her head titled in confusion.

"Nothing it doesn't matter" Bruce simply sighed and shook his head. "Also, there's something I'd like to discuss with you at dinner, if you don't mind"

"No not at all, I'll see you at dinner then?" Bruce nodded and left, leaving Marinette alone in the room, waiting for her honorary older brother and his brother to come in. Which they did but only after some time, it was hilarious to see them crouched down, talking to each other in hushed voices. They flinched as she cleared her throat, both slowly turning towards the sound to find a smug looking Marinette and a blindfold whipped around her finger.

"I win"

~~~

Most of the occupants at the table were either in an all out war or were about to be, except for Marinette and an exasperated Bruce Wayne.

"So Marinette" The eldest Wayne began, silencing the rest of the table. "I hope you don't mind me asking but when you were off searching for Jason, you mentioned attacks that have been occurring in Paris, is this true?"

No one failed to notice the girl flinch. "Yeah it's true"

"...how bad are the attacks? In your opinion"

"Well it depends on how strong the person's emotions are really. If their emotions are strong, then the Akuma is strong too"

"What's the strongest akuma that Paris has seen?" It was Tim who asked and memories of the event began swimming through her mind, she got rid of them with a shake of her head.

"The deadliest akuma Paris has experienced was an akuma called 'Syren'. She's a regular person but, as an akuma, she managed to kill around 2 million people. But don't worry! Ladybug's cure managed to bring them back to life"

"D-did... did you die, Pixie?" Jason asked, his anger mixed with worry was boiling over and luckily simmered after seeing her shake her head.

"Do you think the heroes of Paris would let heroes from the Justice League come over to help?"

Marinette contemplated for a moment, should she really risk the heroes getting akumatized? "I think they would but I wouldn't know"

Bruce nodded while Jason leaned over the table to talk closer to his honorary little-sister. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I didn't want to bother you"

"You're not a bother, Pixie" Jason smiled at the bluenette on the other side of the table. "You never are and you never will be"

~~~

Marinette returned to Paris a few days later, in the mean time, Bruce and the rest of the batfam were planning their visit to the City of Love. Soon enough, the vigilantes were boarded on the plane. Their flight to Paris was relatively silent. After a few hours, they landed and the vigilantes waited on the Eiffel Tower, only to find out there was a battle going on. Before they could engage in the fight, they were engulfed with magical ladybugs that seemed to fix anything destroyed. As they were mesmerized by the cure, a certain spotted-heroine wobbly landed on the platform. Batman was first to notice.

"Ladybug" His voice caused the others to turn around. "Thank you for allowing us into your city"

Ladybug nodded, not uttering a single word.

"We were hoping, with your permission of course, that we could help you be rid of Hawkmoth once and for good" Again, Ladybug didn't reply. "Ladybug?"

When the heroine didn't respond, Batman glanced at Nightwing and the rest of his sons, clearly something was wrong. Unexpectedly, Robin took his glove off, approached the Ladybug-themed hero and placed his hand onto her forehead.

"You have a fever" he stated, his hand trailing down her face to cup her cheek. His family all shot him weird looks. She tiredly blinked at the vigilante, recognising him as Robin and allowed herself to fall into his arms, detransforming while doing so, leaving a burning hot Marinette.

"Dami?" He hummed. "Take me home, please..." She drifted off to sleep, comforted in her lover's arms. He glanced at his family, holding the bluenette close.

"Pixie...is Ladybug?" Red Hood's voice was first.

"You didn't know?" Robin's voice mocking confusion, enraging Red Hood that his youngest brother knew something about his sister that he didn't. Even more so that his demon brother was holding said sister,

"We should take her back home" Dick went over to feel the girl's forehead. "She's burning"

"Tikki?" Robin asked and a red creature flew out from one of Mari's pockets, startling most of the people there.

"I'll try to heal her on the way, follow me"

The floating red creature flew down from the Eiffel Tower, Robin and Marinette close behind. After some hesitation, the others followed, they ended up on top of a bakery. One by one, they entered through the trapdoor on the balcony, finding both Damian with his mask off and a weak looking Marinette. Despite her enfeebled state, the bluenette greeted each vigilante, her gaze landed on Jason.

"It's just a fever, I'll be fine"

Jason removed his helmet and ran a hand through his hair before both settled on his hips. "You don't look fine"

"I promise I am" She wasn't convincing, not at all.

"Fine" Jason huffed, he could never truly say no to the girl he viewed as his little sister. "But since when were you two a thing" He pointed at the two, his gaze resting maliciously on Damian.

"It's all thanks to you, you know" Marinette smirked at Jason's confusion. Tim snickered as he seemed to catch on to what she was saying.

"Had you not organized that 'blindfolded game', I doubt we would be together at this moment" Damian supplied the information, clearly unfazed by the burning rage in the eyes of his older brother.

"Baby Bird's all grown up" The eldest Wayne son overdramatized wiping a fake tear, Batman sighed at his two eldest sons while pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Get your fucking hands off her, Demon Brat!" Jason tried to lunge at Damian, only to be stopped by both Dick and Tim. Though his fury only grew when Marinette snuggled closer to the green-eyed boy, both smirked in victory over Jason's horrified appearance.

Marinette was now part of the family in more ways than one. Though they wish they had found out in better circumstances, they would be able to take down Hawkmoth once and for all, side by side, all together. And to think this all happened because of a silly blindfold game.

#daminette #damian x marinette #maribat #maridami #marinette x damian #mlb x dc #ml x dc #big brother jason #this is eh I guess

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iam93percentstardust · 3 years

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hey alle, so for the prompts i'd love some cute and funny winteriron with bucky wanting to impress tony with his cooking, but tony being a very picky eater. which leads to a lot of frustration on bucky's side, and obliviousness on what is even going on from tony's. if you feel like it. thank you! <3

Here it is! The long-awaited His Girl FRIDAY remix! I hope you love this as much as I do!

As always, everything I write is on ao3 too

The first time Bucky left food in Tony’s workshop and come back to find it untouched, he’d figured it was a fluke. Tony had probably been caught up in a zone—like Steve had warned him about when Bucky had decided he was going to woo Tony with food—and hadn’t noticed the food was even there.

The second time, he made sure to catch Tony’s attention as he was dropping off the plate—lasagna because Natalia had said Tony’s mother was Italian and Bucky made a pretty decent lasagna if he did say so. Tony had glanced at him and then at the plate before turning away with a slightly bewildered frown. Bucky had taken the frown to mean that no one else had ever bothered before to take care of Tony, which was a fact that had just about broken his heart, and left the plate there. He’d gone back later that night to find the lasagna untouched. That had been a little harder to explain away, but he’d eventually decided that maybe Tony was one of those food snobs who only liked Italian food made by actual Italians.

The third time he made oatmeal with a little bit of honey and cream, perfect for someone with as much of a sweet tooth as Tony had, and brought it into the workshop for Tony, who had spent the entire night working on new arrows for Clint.

“Tony?” he called softly, not wanting to startle him. Tony was uncomfortable enough with all the new people moving into the tower after everything with SHIELD and Hydra; being Hydra’s pet assassin, he didn’t want to make it worse by sneaking up on him. “I brought you some breakfast.”

Tony popped up from underneath a table, visibly brightening. “Oh good,” he said cheerfully, making grabby hands at the bowl. “I was just starting to get hungry.” His hair was mussed, two perfect rings of black smeared around his eyes, likely where the goggles currently perched on top of his head had been resting earlier.

Bucky smiled at the adorable display and held out the bowl. Tony eagerly grabbed it, only to blink at it as soon as he saw what was in it.

“Oatmeal?” he asked delicately.

“I thought you’d appreciate having something a little more delicate after not eating for a while,” Bucky explained.

“…Oh.” After another awkward moment, Tony said carefully, “Thanks.”

Satisfied, Bucky left him to his work. This time—this time—Tony would eat it all and then he’d see what an amazing cook Bucky was and how he would absolutely be able to provide for Tony and then he’d swoon into Bucky’s arms and demand that Bucky take him right there.

Okay maybe not right there—the workshop didn’t seem like the best location for amorous activities—but that was why they called it a fantasy, right?

Too bad Tony punctured that fantasy like a balloon.

Bucky went back downstairs long to pick up the bowl after Tony had come up to the common areas, yawning widely and telling everyone he was heading to bed for the next twenty-four hours so don’t bother him unless New York was on fire. It had been a bit of a disappointment that he’d just nodded at Bucky without saying anything about the breakfast or about his everlasting feelings for him, but not nearly as much of a disappointment to walk into the workshop to find the bowl as untouched as all the other meals he’d so painstakingly prepared.

“I don’t get it,” he whined to Sam later that day. “I’m a good cook.”

Sam gave him an unimpressed look. “Are you sure? It’s been, what, seventy years since the last time you made anything. Maybe you’re not as good as you used to be.”

Bucky gasped dramatically. “You take that back!”

“No. You promised me you’d offer dating advice with Natasha and instead you’re sitting here mooning over Tony’s ass again so I’ll say whatever I like about your cooking.”

“Sorry,” he muttered guiltily. Sam was right. He had promised that. Or, rather, Steve had promised advice and Bucky had taken one look at him still pining over Peggy and feeling weird about his current interest being Peggy’s niece (a valid way to feel) and declared him hopeless before telling Sam that he would help him out instead. After all, he remembered Natalia from the years she’d spent training with him during her childhood. Who else would be more qualified to teach Sam how to woo her? Well, besides Clint obviously, but he was taking some personal time away from the team.

“She likes the ballet,” he said. “She wanted to be a ballerina when she was younger, said they were as graceful as any Widow only they didn’t have to kill.”

“And you’re sure that won’t just make her sad?” Sam asked dubiously.

Bucky glared at him. “I might not like you very much—” Sam rolled his eyes—"But I like Natalia a whole lot. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt her. Take her to the ballet and take Steve and Sharon while you’re at it. A double date will help her feel less trapped and maybe Steve will stop moping and ask Sharon out.”

“It’s a little weird, you know.”

“Sure, but he kissed Peggy once and it’s not like he’s ever gonna go back to the war and live out the rest of his time there, so he might as well move on.”

Sam laughed. “Guess that’s true.” He sighed, smile fading away. “I don’t know why Tony’s ignoring your meals. Sorry about that though. It sucks.”

“If I may,” JARVIS cut in. Both of them jumped, though Bucky would deny to his dying day that he yelped. Sam, on the other hand, shrieked like a kid and Bucky reminded himself to go back and access the audio footage so he would have blackmail.

“Sorry, JARVIS,” he apologized. “Keep forgetting you’re up there. Didn’t exactly have AI back during the war.”

“Or even in other houses,” Sam added.

“My apologies,” JARVIS said, and he’ll be damned if JARVIS didn’t sound extremely apologetic. It was incredible, really, how much life Tony imbued in his creations. “I only wanted to offer my advice about Sergeant Barnes’ attempts at wooing Sir.”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky asked. “Go right ahead. Can’t be any worse than any of the other advice I’ve gotten.” Seriously, Clint had even suggested truth serum, like that wasn’t the worst idea ever suggested.

“Sir is an extremely picky eater,” JARVIS explained. “He does not enjoy cooked tomatoes, ricotta cheese, or the texture of oatmeal.”

…All of which had been in at least one of the meals he’d prepared for Tony.

“Fuck.”

JARVIS wryly said, “Indeed.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”

“You requested that I remain inactive on your floor while you were recovering. But you’re in Sergeant Wilson’s quarters at the moment so I may share my expertise.”

He had said that, hadn’t he? It had been in the early days when he was still having trouble remembering what he’d said moments earlier, but he had a vague recollection of being overwhelmed by the idea of constant monitoring and asking if JARVIS could be turned off.

“Wow, way to go, Barnes,” Sam commented, hiding a grin behind his hand.

“Fuck,” he said again, more emphatically. “Best tool at my disposal and I’m not even using it. JARVIS, I bet you could tell me all sorts of things about Tony.”

He got the impression that if the AI could sniff, he would have. “I would not dare to air Sir’s ‘dirty laundry’ so to speak.”

“No, no,” Bucky said, waving his metal hand. The hand made a concerning grinding sound and he frowned. That wasn’t supposed to happen. He’d probably need to ask someone to take a look at it. Sam was capable of performing basic maintenance, and Bucky trusted him not to sabotage the arm, but anything worse and he’d have to go ask Tony about it.

“Not what I meant,” he continued. “Just that you could tell me what Tony likes and doesn’t like. Uh, how do I turn you back on in my floor?”

“Your request is sufficient,” JARVIS said.

“Great. I’ll meet you up there in a bit. We’re gonna make something so incredible Tony will have to fall in love with me.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Sam said, kicking his feet up onto the newly vacated spot on the couch now that Bucky was standing. “I’m going to see if I can find reasonably priced tickets to the ballet.”

Bucky blinked. “I think you’re gonna have worse luck than me.”

Sam threw a shoe at him.

On JARVIS’ advice, he baked blueberry muffins because those were apparently Tony’s favorite fruit. Bucky didn’t really understand it. Frankly, he thought blueberries were almost as bad as bananas—nasty, taste-changing fruit that they were—but if Tony loved them, then he would be willing to have them in his kitchen for as long as it took to bake the muffins. Fortunately, he was just as good a baker as he was a cook, so it was a breeze to whip up a delicious batch that had him grateful he couldn’t get salmonella from the mix.

Unfortunately, Tony hated the muffins. Or that’s what Bucky gathered when he went to pick the plate up, hoping that it would be empty for the first time, and found it just as untouched as everything else had been.

“What the fuck, JARVIS?” he complained. “You said he liked blueberries.”

“I don’t know, Sergeant Barnes,” JARVIS said, sounding as baffled as Bucky felt. “Sir has always appreciated them.”

That, Bucky reflected later that night, was possibly to be expected. For all that JARVIS had the inhuman ability to remember literally everything he’d ever seen or heard, he was still just a program. He couldn’t necessarily extrapolate about preferences or tastes. For all either of them knew, Tony did like blueberries but didn’t like muffins or something. It didn’t really explain why JARVIS knew that Tony didn’t like cooked tomatoes, but maybe that could be explained by Tony mentioning it out loud and the other stuff, JARVIS had had to figure out on his own.

He sat up in bed, thinking about it. Maybe that was it: Tony didn’t like muffins. But there had to be other recipes out there that used blueberries that Tony would like. In fact, he was pretty sure he’d come across a blueberry cupcake with brown butter frosting recipe earlier that day. And Bucky didn’t know anyone who could say no to his brown butter. He was incredible at it, and that was being modest. Just the other day, Thor had declared the brown butter sauce he’d made for their chicken to be worthy of an Asgardian feast. Thor was a god. He probably knew things like that.

“JARVIS, you up?” he asked into the dark room.

“Always, Sergeant Barnes.”

“You don’t gotta keep callin’ me that. Bucky’s my name. I’d rather answer to that.”

“Very well, Bucky.”

“Could you pull up some other recipes with blueberries in the flavor profile please? Filter out anything that has something Tony doesn’t like and recipes similar enough to each other that they could be repeats, uh, let’s say anything with a higher than 85% similarity.”

When JARVIS was finished compiling his list, there was a lot less than what Bucky had hoped for, but it was still something he could work with. He looked through the list: cupcakes, pancakes, cookies, more than a few salads, something called a Panzanella. He starred the ones he thought would catch Tony’s interest the most, putting the others aside to possibly try later down the road. Content with his plan, he laid back down, falling asleep within seconds of his head hitting the pillow.

None of it worked. Despite his supposed love for blueberries, Tony continued to turn away everything Bucky made for him. So he branched out, trying other foods that JARVIS said Tony was fond of. Nothing came back with more than a couple bites taken out of it and Tony had taken to giving him worried looks every time he appeared at the workshop door with another plate. Bucky was starting to lose hope that he was ever going to woo Tony with food and that was… not great.

Traditional dates were pretty close to impossible. Despite his rapid recovery in the tower, going outside was still too frightening with the crowds of New York, the inability to pick out threats around him, and the lack of sightlines all driving Bucky back inside and to the highest floors of the tower where he could look out over everything.

And as for anything else, well, Bucky was an ex-brainwashed assassin with no money to his name and only half the social skills he used to have (Sam said he had more than he thought but arguing with Sam wasn’t like trying to get someone to like him). He didn’t have much else to offer other than making food and giving Tony a project to work on. The first wasn’t going well and the second made Bucky feel too much like he was taking advantage of Tony to use more than once or twice.

Disheartened, he made his way up to Natalia’s floor to ask her for advice. She and Tony got along almost as well as she got along with Clint. Maybe she would have insights that JARVIS wasn’t able to offer. As he neared her room, though, he realized that she wasn’t alone.

“—to kill me,” someone—Tony, Bucky realized almost immediately—was saying. He stiffened. Who was trying to kill Tony? Bucky would kill them first! Was murder a good way to woo Tony?

“котенок,” Natalia said patiently, “he’s not trying to kill you.”

“You don’t know that!” Tony exclaimed wildly. He sounded like he was pacing. “He could be! He keeps bringing me things everyone knows I won’t eat.”

And now Natalia sounded amused as she said, “Antoshka, I don’t think he’d be trying to feed you if he wanted to kill you. It’s more likely an honest mistake.”

“It could be poison.”

“It’s not poison.”

“You don’t know that. You haven’t tried any of it.”

“It’s not poison because that’s more my style than it is James’.”

Oh, they were talking about him. Tony thought Bucky was trying to kill him. “Fuck,” he said mournfully, leaning up against the wall. No wonder Tony wouldn’t touch any of the food he made for him.

“Well, I don’t see why else he’s bringing me food!” Tony said.

“Really? Not a single reason?”

“It’s food I won’t eat! He clearly doesn’t like me or he’d be bringing me actual food I like.”

“Does he know why you won’t eat it?”

“No, but why does that matter?”

“Tony, darling, have you ever once informed him that you have a sensory processing disorder and you won’t eat a lot of cooked foods because you can’t handle the texture?”

Bucky straightened back up. Tony has a what? He’d never even heard of that before. Why didn’t JARVIS say something? He thought back to when he’d been building the list of blueberry foods and how he’d wondered if JARVIS didn’t necessarily know about the pattern for Tony’s likes and dislikes in his food. Maybe JARVIS hadn’t known about Tony’s disorder, so he hadn’t known to tell Bucky about it. That made the most amount of sense to him though he couldn’t imagine why Tony had never told his AI about his disorder.

“Why would I tell him that?” Tony asks, sounding confused.

He could just picture Natalia shaking her head as she said, “Oh, Antoshka.”

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Armed with his new knowledge, Bucky crept away from the door, already planning out new meals to bring to Tony.

That very night, he went downstairs with a bowl of salad. It had nuts to provide a small amount of protein, though he’d also put some baked chicken in a Tupperware as well, in case that was something Tony could eat. Tony’s music was playing at a manageable volume by the time he got to the workshop, likely because he was drafting plans for some sort of irrigation system, rather than any sort of consideration for Bucky.

Tony caught sight of him before he got the doors open. Bucky watched as his face fell for a moment before he plastered on a bright, fake smile. Hydra’s programming was still too ingrained in him to do anything as obvious as wince, but he still felt a twinge of shame. Why hadn’t he thought to ask Tony what he would like to eat instead of relying on his own preferences?

“Uh,” he said, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. In his other hand, he held up the Tupperware with the salad bowl on top of it. “I brought you some dinner. It’s just a salad, but I included some baked chicken on the side if you want that. I hope it’s something you like.”

Tony blinked at him. “What?”

“I—okay, I’m just gonna come right out and say it. I overheard you and Natalia earlier. I didn’t know you couldn’t eat anything I was making for you. I wasn’t trying to poison you or anything, just thought you might like some food since you’re down here all the time. Sorry for, you know, eavesdropping and making you think I didn’t like you.”

A cautious smile spread across Tony’s face. “You could have asked JARVIS,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, I did, but I guess he didn’t know you don’t like cooked foods.”

“What?” Tony cocked his head to the side. “No, he should know that.” He spun around in his chair, waving the glowing blue drafts of the irrigation system aside in favor of pulling up JARVIS’ bright golden code. It was a beautiful display, and Bucky found himself moving closer, mesmerized by the sight. He had no idea JARVIS’ code was so complex.

“J, buddy, what happened to your code?” Tony murmured. He reached out a hand, groping for Bucky’s shirt to tug him closer. “Gimme food.”

“So you like salad?” Bucky asked, relieved that he’d finally found something.

“And baked chicken,” Tony added. “But it has to be baked. Otherwise, the texture’s too rubbery for me.”

“I can do that,” he promised. “Do you like breading or marinade with the baked chicken?”

“Marinade, yes. Breading, no.”

“Okay. I’ll remember that.”

Tony paused in tearing through JARVIS’ code to give him a small, genuine smile that made Bucky’s heart light up. He returned the smile, which grew bigger when Tony’s gaze darted down to his lips, snagging there as though caught by the sight. He knew he had a nice mouth; he’d been told that plenty of times back in the forties.

“I have another confession to make,” he said once Tony’s attention returned to the code.

“Uh-huh,” Tony said distractedly.

“I was—”

“There you are!” Tony exclaimed. “J, who made those changes to lines 894 through 1036 in your code?”

JARVIS immediately said, “The last time those lines were accessed was in 2008 by Obadiah Stane.”

Tony’s face fell. “Oh.”

It took Bucky a moment remember who Obadiah Stane was. He’d appeared in one of Bucky’s mission files as the Winter Soldier. Back during the nineties, following Tony’s parents deaths, Tony had been planning on shutting down SI’s weapons manufacturing division. Hydra, who’d been buying black market weapons from Stane for years by that time, had ordered the Winter Soldier to assassinate Tony to give Stane complete control of the company. But before he’d been able to complete his mission, Stane had convinced Tony to see “reason” and Bucky had been put back in cryo. That unfulfilled mission had been one of the reasons he’d been so hesitant to move into the tower before his programming had been completely removed. Steve had tried to push for the move anyway, but before either of them could successfully argue the point, Tony had put out a call to the world’s top experts on brainwashing and three whirlwind weeks later, Bucky’s mind was programming-free. And just like that, without even meeting the guy, Bucky had developed a crush on one Tony Stark.

“Sorry, doll,” he said, dropping a hand to Tony’s shoulder and squeezing it gently.

Tony sighed frustratedly. “Every time I think I’ve taken care of everything Obie fucked up, I find something else he’s done. He was probably hoping I’d starve to death or something without anyone making food to my exacting specifications, that asshole.”

“He sounds pretty terrible,” Bucky agreed.

“J, are you able to access the last backup on those lines to restore them?” Tony asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay, let’s get those fixed, and uh—”

“And we’ll go out for dinner,” Bucky interrupted.

“Huh?” Tony asked, turning to look at him.

“Seems I owe you an apology and I figure taking you out for dinner is a little nicer than a salad. ‘Sides, if I take you out, I’ll have a better understanding of what you like to eat.”

“Careful there, Buckaroo, or I’ll start thinking this is supposed to be a date.”

Bucky would probably never know what possessed him to firmly say, “Yeah, that’s exactly what it’s supposed to be.” He certainly hadn’t planned to. He really had been planning on their dinner being a way to figure out what Tony liked so he could make it himself and continue with his wooing process from there, hopefully slowly easing Tony into believing that Bucky really did like him and wasn’t trying to poison him.

“Sorry,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “That wasn’t supposed to come out like that.”

Tony stared at him, then abruptly said, “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“That this is supposed to be a date.”

He could deny it and go back to his original plan. He’d probably even be able to pull off a lie like that. But there was a hopeful look in Tony’s eyes that stopped him from denying anything.

“You didn’t even know that I liked you until five minutes ago,” he pointed out cautiously.

Tony scoffed. “What, like you’ve never liked someone who hated you.”

“Uh, no. I’ve never done that.”

“Really?”

“Never.”

“Huh.”

“Are you… are you saying that you do like me?” Bucky asked.

“Well, yeah. You never mind that half of my engineering babble goes over your head and you bring me food even if you didn’t know it wasn’t something I could eat and you’re really fucking gorgeous when you’ve showered and your hair isn’t falling in greasy clumps around your face.”

“Look who’s talking,” Bucky said amusedly, reaching out to run his fingers through Tony’s hair, matted down with machine oil. Even filthy, he could feel how soft it would be when it was clean. Tony leaned into his hand, humming happily.

“So is that a yes on this being a date, Bucky babe?” Tony asked. “Cause I’ll be honest, I’m not usually left hanging.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, nodding. “It’s a date.”

Tony grinned and turned his head just enough to kiss the inside of Bucky’s wrist, making Bucky shiver. “Let me get cleaned up.”

“You want me to join you?”

Tony winked at him. “Next time, honey.”

#winteriron #alle writes #alle answers #if you like please reblog

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tinydooms · 3 years

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I don't know if you're aware of the Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries television series (and movie!). But given that it's set in the same era, I'd love to see a cross over story with The Mummy series. Please? (But only if you feel so inclined. No pressure).

I am familiar with Miss Fisher! I prefer the books over the series, but both are fun and I love that Phryne was an ambulance driver in the war. Here is your fic! I hope you like it. :-)

The Somme, Flanders, October 1916

The mud is cold and putrid and wet with blood and shit and bits of corpses, and Jonathan is deeply offended that this is where he is going to die. He has no idea where the bullet came from, but he’s only about fifty feet from the trench. Fifty feet. If he can just crawl back fifty feet, maybe, maybe, he will survive this. Jonathan swallows. Mustard gas is falling all around him. He lies at the edge of a pit filled with gas. One false move and he will fall into that pit, and then it’s curtains. There is nowhere to go, either; to his right, barbed wire tangles around dead bodies. Jonathan sinks his fingers into the mud, trying to gain a purchase that will keep him out of the gas. The pain in his leg is incredible. He is so terrified he can barely think.

“Help!” he tries to shout, only it comes out a whisper. Help, help me, I want to go home.

“Hey!” someone behind him bellows. A hand wraps around Jonathan’s ankle. “Don’t move! I’ve got you.”

“I’ve been shot,” Jonathan says.

The voice, lightly accented, is calm, almost unperturbed, which is extraordinary in this chaos. “I see that. Don’t worry and keep still. I’m going to pull you back.”

Hands on his ankles, tugging. Pain rips through Jonathan; he screams, but his rescuer doesn’t stop pulling. Slowly, slowly, he slides backwards through the stinking mud, away from the gas pit. The hands gripping his ankles move to his trousers, then up to his belt, and then an arm wraps itself around Jonathan’s waist. Another arm around his chest. Then under his arms, until Jonathan finds himself level with an Indian soldier.

“Hello,” the man says, a smile flashing across his face. “We’re going to stay low. Can you wrap your arms around me? That’s it. I’m going to get you out of here.”

“Remind me to buy you a drink when this is over,” Jonathan gasps.

The soldier laughs. “Two whiskeys, taken neat. Can you move your legs at all?”

“No,” Jonathan gasps as they begin to crawl back towards the trench. “Bloody machine guns.”

The Indian man shifts so that Jonathan is lying across his back, taking most of his weight. Jonathan clings to him and bites his lip. If he starts crying for his mother now, he will never stop.

Somehow they gain the trench, fall back into safety and knee-deep water. The Indian picks Jonathan up over his shoulders and hurries along, shouting for a stretcher bearer. Improbably, it’s a woman who answers.

“I’ve an ambulance here!”

The Indian shouts back, but Jonathan cannot make out his words over the cannons and the machine guns and the pain that rockets through him with every breath. Something about fishing? But that makes no sense. Everything goes dark as they stumble forward. Then there are hands again, lifting him off of the Indian’s shoulders and onto a stretcher. A tiny dark-haired girl bends over Jonathan, stabs him in the arm with a needle, throws a blanket over him. The Indian soldier squeezes Jonathan’s arm, smiles, vanishes. Jonathan closes his eyes and when he opens them again, he is in an ambulance, bouncing along uneven ground, and the driver is bellowing at the top of her lungs.

“You’re not allowed to die on my watch!” she bawls. “You’re going to live, you hear me? A handsome man like you; we’re going out for drinks after!”

“Whiskey,” Jonathan whispers. Someone said that to him moments ago. Who was it?

The ambulance bounces through another pothole, jostling Jonathan and sending another wave of pain crashing through him. He just wants to go home to Mum and Father and Evie, to archaeology and Oxford. He goes away again.

He awakens to the ambulance driver screaming obscenities in a distinctly Australian accent. The ambulance screeches to a halt. The doors open. Two more soldiers are hauled inside by the tiny, black-haired, improbably Australian girl.

“Come on, boys!” she bellows. “Hold on, we’re almost to the hospital! And then we’re going for a proper booze-up!”

Jonathan goes away again, but not before he realizes that the soldier lying next to him is dead.

He wakes up in a field hospital, lying on his stomach on a narrow cot. His legs and back are killing him. For a while it is all Jonathan can do to lie there, trying to summon the courage to look over his shoulder at his legs to see if they’re still there.

“You’ll be alright.” It’s a nurse in a grubby white uniform. She pats Jonathan’s shoulder and holds a teacup to his lips so that he can drink. “We’re sending you on; you need another surgery. We got the bullet out, though, and you’ll be able to walk again, eventually. Fisher got you here in record time; we were able to save your legs.”

Jonathan swallows, remembering the Indian soldier and the tiny ambulance driver. Fisher. And what was the Indian’s name? Did Jonathan thank him for saving his life? He can’t remember. He closes his eyes.

Later he will learn that the bullet entered his thigh and came to rest in his buttocks, and that it narrowly missed severing an artery. It’s ruined his ability to walk, let alone fight, and Jonathan finds himself invalided home. The shock of it is too much. Shot in the arse and saved by two strangers. If it hadn’t been for the Indian and that Fisher person, Jonathan knows he would have died. He wants to thank them, to buy them drinks, to do something good for them. But he never sees either again.

#asks and answers #prompts #The Mummy #Phryne Fisher #Jonathan Carnahan #this is still rough and I'll probably go back and edit it #my fanfics

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catrasredemption-moved · 4 years

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hi! if you're still taking Catradora/She-Ra prompts, i'd love to see your take on Catra making progress with her anger and PTSD but having a Bad Day, and how Adora and the others help her through it with love and support. thank you!

((this one gets kind of heavy. TW for slight self-harm))

Some days were fine. Great, even. Some days Catra woke up with a smile and went to bed with one, wrapped in Adora’s arms. Things weren’t perfect, of course. There were plenty of issues, especially between her and Adora. Confessing their love hadn’t fixed everything. But it had allowed them to fall back into some old habits, such as sharing a bed.

(Catra technically had a room next to Adora’s, but it didn’t get much use.)

Today was none of those things. Today was a wake up alone because Adora had to do something day. Today was a wake up with skin crawling and nerves itching and fur on end waiting for a danger that didn’t exist day. Today was a jump at the shadows day.

Today sucked the moment Catra opened her eyes.

Sometimes there were things that set Catra off - specific events or things that would remind her of the bad things. She hated the color green more than anything. A very specific shade of green. Sometimes, someone would say something that rang too close to something Shadow Weaver or Horde Prime had said. Sometimes, Scorpia would use her powers, and the sound would freeze Catra as effectively as Shadow Weaver ever had.

And sometimes it was just a bad day.

Of course, it was a meeting day. Catra couldn’t figure out when exactly she had started getting involved in the meetings. Glimmer had convinced the others that Catra’s strategic abilities would be good for for them; she was good at planning. She always had been. The same skills that had allowed her to make it so far as a Horde leader could be put to good use with rebuilding Etheria. And usually Catra was happy with that.

At that moment, however, she would have given anything to be anywhere other than this bright, exposed room at this stupid table surrounded by loud, chattering princesses. Adora slid in at the last moment, sitting beside Catra and grinning. Catra tried to return the smile. She wasn’t sure it was any good, but Adora was easy to fool. And Glimmer started the meeting as soon as Adora was there, saving Catra from any questioning.

Today’s topic was rebuilding routes between the kingdoms, especially the more far off places like Entrapta’s and Frosta’s. Catra did her best to pay attention, to figure out where she could contribute, but her mind was in other places. Her ears were twitching, knee bouncing, heart pounding. She wasn’t sure if she was anxious or angry or some weird mix of both. She had her claws pressed against her thighs, not breaking the skin, but sharp enough to keep her grounded. She stared at the map on the table without really seeing it. Any other day she probably would have had a dozen ideas.

Today it all ran together as her mind raced.

She tried the breathing exercises Perfuma had taught her, tried the stupid “five things I’m grateful for” thing that Scorpia had said always made her feel better. She tried to focus on Adora’s presence next to her, her constant anchor, her reminder she was safe, she was home. Nothing was working. Nothing was working. It was infuriating. She was safe, she was supposed to be happy, nothing had happened, so why did she feel like this?

She didn’t hear Adora say her name. She barely felt the brush of gentle fingers against her shoulder. But it was enough to jerk her back to reality. Anyone else might have ended up with their face cut open. But Adora had grown up with Catra. She recognized the way Catra’s fingers twitched, the way her muscles bunched, the way her arm drew back, ready to strike. Adora knew to jerk back as Catra lashed out.

It was terrible that part of her was grateful it was Adora.

Silence fell. Adora had her hands up in a placating gesture, expression gentle but concerned. Catra was vaguely aware she was starting to shake. She could feel everyone else staring at her. Judging her. There’s the Catra we all know, the wild animal who can’t control herself, can’t be trusted, it was only a matter of time-

“Hey. You okay?”

Damn it, why did Adora have to sound so fucking worried?

Catra shoved away from the table, muttering, “Can’t be here,” and hurried out before anyone stopped her. She didn’t really remember much of the walk, but somehow she was back at hers and Adora’s room. Melog slunk out from under the bed, mane shifting colors as he tried to figure out what Catra was feeling.

What’s wrong?

“I don’t know!”

She kicked the vanity chair, knocking it over, breathing heavily. “I don’t know, I don’t know what’s wrong, I don’t fucking know, I just - everything-”

She was definitely shaking now. Melog watched her, clearly discontent. You need to breathe.

“I know I need to breathe!”

Her hand was on the back of her neck now. She still remembered that empty, hollow peace she had felt under Prime’s control. It was the only time in her life she could remember not being angry. She hadn’t been happy by any means, but she had been... calm. Sedate. Things she had only ever felt in fleeting moments, there and gone before she had time to comprehend them. Now, after experiencing Prime’s warped version of those feelings, they felt like a cruel joke. How was she ever supposed to be calm without remembering that ship? How was she supposed to feel peace without wanting to disconnect herself in the process?

Melog collided with Catra, knocking her to the ground and very pointedly pinning her arm down. She was confused and annoyed for a moment before she felt something sticky and warm on the back of her neck. Her claws had started to dig in.

“What do you want from me?” The words were barely a whimper. Melog purred, nuzzling her cheek against hers.

That was the position Adora found them in a couple minutes later. She let herself into the room, noting the disturbed vanity chair but lack of any other destruction, which was good. Melog was sitting on Catra, which wasn’t good, and Adora saw the blood on her hands. She knew it wasn’t hers, and it probably wasn’t Melog’s, and no one had raised the alarm about Catra attacking them since she’d left the meeting, so...

Adora went to the bathroom and returned with the first-aid kit. Only then did Melog move, letting Catra sit up. She didn’t say anything as Adora settled behind her, cleaning up her neck. It wasn’t too deep, at least.

“What happened?” she asked as she worked.

“Nothing,” Catra muttered.

“Bad day.”

“No. Nothing happened.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t have a bad day.” Catra hissed as Adora gently disinfected the wound. “I have them too, ya know. I wake up and everything just feels tense and on edge and like I’m waiting for something to happen even though there’s nothing that could happen.” Catra wilted slightly. She had never noticed that. “I usually punch it out. None of Perfuma’s breathing stuff works for me.”

She finished bandaging the wound, pressing a small kiss to it when she was done. “Can I hold you?” Catra nodded stiffly. Strong arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her in until her back was flush with Adora’s chest. Adora rested her forehead between Catra’s shoulder blades. “Has Bow ever told you about his dad?”

“No.”

“He fought in the war years ago, during the First Princess Alliance. He doesn’t like to talk much about it, but he... understands feeling this way, I guess. Bow’s dragged me there to see him a few times. There’s a lot of snacks and tea. It helps, though. There are actual words for these feelings, you know? Not just angry, because I know it’s more than that, but words that really describe it.”

Catra hesitated before asking, “Like what?”

“PTSD is the most important one, I think. It’s um...” Catra could feel Adora’s forehead wrinkling as she tried to think, “Post traumatic stress disorder,” she finally said, a hint of pride in her voice for remembering that. It was a lot. “It’s like your mind is stuck on the bad things that happened to you, and you can’t turn the thoughts off. Like your nightmares, or the way you panic when something reminds you of Horde Prime or Shadow Weaver.”

Something loosened in Catra’s chest, and a bit of tension eased from her body. “I’m not just broken?”

“Of course not.” Adora hugged her tighter, resting her chin on Catra’s shoulder. “You’re hurt. Just like I am. Just like George is. It’s okay. It’s normal.” She laughed. “It might be the only thing about us that’s normal.”

A small smile pulled at Catra’s lips. She finally relaxed against Adora, curling up. “You should come with me to see George some time. I think you’d like him.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Also, they live in a giant library. You’ll definitely like that.”

The faint sound of bells hit Catra’s ears just as Glimmer appeared, holding a tray. “Don’t mind me, I’m not here,” she whispered loudly, setting the tray on the bed.

“You... are, though,” Adora pointed out.

“What’s that?”

Glimmer turned to them, smiling. “We kind of agreed that it’d be best to just let Adora talk to you but it kind of felt wrong not to do something, and Bow suggested snacks and... I’ve been teleporting across Etheria for the last hour trying to find everyone’s favorite comfort food.”

Catra blinked, surprised. “Everyone?”

“Yup! I’m not too sure about some of these things, but you know, your choice if you like them or not. Mermista swears dried seaweed is good. And Scorpia seemed pretty confident you’d like... I dunno, she called them the red ones.”

“Oh!” Adora perked up.

“Horde thing, got it.” Glimmer laughed. “Anyway, we’ll be down in the meeting room, let us know if you need anything.”

“Can you... thank them for me?” Catra asked hesitantly. “And thank you for doing all the legwork.”

“I’m an awesome friend, what can I say?” Glimmer feigned humbleness, but there was a genuine smile on her face as she disappeared again. Adora was pressing forward a bit, eyes on the tray.

“You want to see what she brought, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

Catra stood, taking Adora’s hand to pull her up as well, and they went to settle on the bed. “Bets on who suggested what?”

Adora examined the tray. “Cake, hot chocolate, and brownies is definitely Bow and Glimmer. Red bars are Scorpia, seaweed is Mermista.”

“Tiny foods are Entrapta. Snowflake cookies must be Frosta. Green stuff.”

“Perfuma,” they concluded in one voice, exchanging smiles.

“What do you think this is?” Catra asked, picking up a round piece of bread with a hole in the middle.

“Oh, that’s a donut! I bet that was Netossa and Spinnerella, there’s this bakery outside of Bright Moon that they really love. They used to drop off treats for us if they were in the area.”

Catra carefully ripped it in half, offering a piece to Adora. It was sweet and chocolate-y and tasted really good. “I’ll try the seaweed if you try Perfuma’s green stuff,” she challenged. Adora puffed up, clearly ready.

“You’re on.”

They each picked up their chosen poisons and took a bite. The seaweed actually wasn’t that bad, Catra thought as she chewed. Thin and brittle and weird, but not bad. Adora, on the other hand, was choking on whatever she had tried.

“No green stuff, got it.”

Adora took a long sip of hot chocolate before she spoke again, her voice gentle. “Better?”

“Better than it was.”

It wasn’t ever completely better. But it was more than Catra could’ve hoped for when she had woken up that morning.

And that was enough.

#catradora #catradora fic #she ra fic #spop #she ra #Well THAT got long af lol what is short #Mystery Person #Sam Answers #askbox fic

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tazzytypes · 3 years

Text

Apocalypse: Sanctuary -- Chap 18

Hey guys! Still working on my professional writing endeavors, getting past some BETA reading stages atm. However, I had this unfinished chapter in my WIP pile, so I thought I'd add more to it to work past some writer's block. Thank you guys for all the continued support both for this story and my professional writing career! I'm hoping to respond to some of y'all's comments soon!

Read More on AO3 or see MASTERPOST for more chapters!

Michael let out a sigh as he entered his room, the smile he had been wearing all day finally leaving his lips. He could handle the attention if he didn’t need to smile at every moment. It was annoying, their pride. As if they were the ones who had descended into hell. As if they had seen the river Styx and spoken to the devil himself. Michael had known they would treat him like a puppet, but he hadn’t expected it to be so annoying.

Ariel tried his patience the most. The blond boy could barely get in a word when he was around, hand on his shoulder and speaking for him. If not for Miss Mead, Michael wouldn’t be able to bear it. Who did the man think he was? His father? Then again… the two weren’t as different, he supposed.

He let his bag fall off his shoulder and onto the floor. Why he even bothered with classes anymore was a mystery. What little friends he had — if he could call them that — shrank away from him. Such was the cost of power. That’s what Mead always said.

He missed her.

Pulling off his tie, he settled into his desk chair. Taking a book from the collection in his room, he set to reading. That girl had been looking at it while the witches and warlocks discussed the semantics of the Seven Wonders. He could still feel the way his finger burned, the way her green eyes bugged from her head before she tossed the book back on the shelf.

The last thing he needed was some inexperienced witch accidentally putting a hex on him. What sort of fool read magic spells aloud without considering the consequences? Had she not seen a single horror movie?

Michael remembered her eyes, the milky film that came to them in hell and the fire that burned in them when she faced that demon. If she were a fool, she was certainly a competent one.

Written mainly in Latin, Michael did his best to translate the words of the tome, some of them lost to water damage or tears. Speaking Latin, which had slowly become a synonym for the devil’s language, was simple for him to master. He thanked Satan for that ability. It was the only thing that could have put him behind his fellow warlocks. Ariel and the others had to think the blond boy was perfect. Anything less would ruin his plans.

Even so, perfection wasn’t easy. Mead assured him he was, but perfections seemed more impossible than hell itself.

He tutted at himself. So, this is what the girl had been talking about.

With a sigh, Michael moved to ready himself for bed. Passing the Seven Wonders only ensured him more work during the day. Ariel may not be a demon, but he certainly worked to possess the boy day and night. Nothing would satisfy the man until Michael moved like him, sounded like him, ruled like him. A perfect replica.

It was pathetic, really.

He tossed his tie onto the bed and slowly went to work unbuttoning his shirt. There was not a moment in the day where he wasn’t deep in thought, planning, re-planning, checking the chessboard to see how his pawns moved in his absence. The only time his mind was silent was when he dreamed. Even then, they felt like fevered visions, quickly forgotten when his alarm rang in his ear.

Unbuttoning his sleeve, Michael was startled by a flurry of pages. He jumped and his eyes were wide for only a moment before they hardened into an unreadable mask. When he turned, the pages of the tome were moving on their own, the force behind it frantically searching for something.

“Finis venit, ante initium.” A chilling breeze whispered.

The end comes before the beginning.

Slowly, Michael moved closer, body tense and on alert. He half expected the book to fling itself from the desk. His father was always impatient.

Finally, the pages settled. Craning his desk light closer, Michael saw the layout of a summoning circle. The spell, its components and the words to be spoken, were laid out in perfect detail. What it was to summon, however, was but a blur of intelligible ink.

The faint voice continued to whisper, “Mulieres gladius tuus sic recensetur. Tempus belli.”

Your sword has awoken. It is time for war.

Emily stood in a field, a sea of green reaching out for miles around her, no sign of ever stopping. She spun like a dog chasing its tail, hunting for something familiar. There were no wildflowers, no clouds in the sky. The air was not too warm nor too cool. It was, in all ways, perfect.

She didn’t know tranquility could be so suffocating.

Panic rose in her bell. In hell, at least she had Michael, but here she was alone. Emily ran towards the horizon even though she knew it would never end, tall grass catching at her legs like a million tiny hands. They whispered as she pushed on.

Alone.

The mere thought was enough to make her breath catch in her throat. If she had any need to breathe, that is. Dreams were peculiar that way. You could be strangled even when your body needed no air.

“You’re back!” A voice cried. Emily turned to the familiar figure, tripping over her own feet before righting herself. Her chest heaved and her eyes were dilated in alarm. A dark figure stood in long robes, unaware of the heat. How long had the heat been there? “They said it would take longer, but I knew you’d get Cordelia’s help.”

“Nan?”

Emily’s mouth had opened to say the name, but it was not her voice that spoke. Instead, another’s passed her lips. It was an unpleasant feeling — as if someone had reached down her throat and pulled out her tongue.

Her head turned as if someone were doing it for her. The brunette’s resistance only made it worse. Behind her, Cordelia stood almost swallowed by the verdant grass. Each step she took was careful and calculated. If she ran, the pair would only get further away… or so she believed.

Nan.

Then she was by Emily’s side, placing a hand on her shoulder. They felt like talons instead of flesh, digging into her shoulder; a breath away from being painful. She did not want to look. Looking made it real.

“What are you doing here?” Cordelia asked.

“I was asked to be here,” Nan replied, then nodded to Emily, “to meet a friend.”

The younger witch spared a glance to her Supreme, brown eyes meeting green for a fraction of a second. Those brown eyes quickly flicked back to Nan, unwilling to give anything else her attention. Emily opened her mouth to speak, to ask Nan all the questions that had been plaguing her since Hawthorne — What voice had spoken to her? Why had it spoken to her? What did it all mean? Why her?

Why?

Once again, she was spoken over. The words caught in her throat by something she could not see. Green eyes narrowed and grew dark, annoyed as Cordelia spoke once more.

“Nan, where are you?”

Emily’s heart fell. This was her Supreme’s true intention. She shouldn’t have been surprised. When Cordelia had said the spell would unleash the true potential of her powers, Emily had expected something different. Optimism had made her foolish.

The sky turned dark, gray clouds replacing azure skies. Emily did not notice, far too consumed by her doubts and fears. Why were her dreams always subverted? Why did they always get torn out and turned into another’s designs?

Why?

Nan’s eyes dashed from Cordelia, eyes narrowing as she observed the changing sky. She did not have time for this. Cordelia was a side effect and the spell would only last so long. There was work to do, work Cordelia would never comprehend or appreciate. Nan walked towards Emily, shuffling through the tall grass, her hand reaching into her cloak to pull out a bright, shining orb from the void and shadow.

Emily was nice. Her thoughts were nice. Overcast skies peeled away into bright blue once more. Nan’s eyes flickered towards her former Supreme whose brown eyes looked upwards in silent awe. Her thoughts were less nice. Then again, they had always been that way. She blamed Fiona.

With a flourish of her robe, Nan’s face lit up with a proud grin she couldn’t control.

“I believe this is yours.”

Confusion laid wake to slow joy which reminded Nan of a child on Christmas. It flickered in and out, but never disappeared, her mind warring between blinded optimism and pessimistic doubt.

It was beautiful, more than beautiful; opalescent and scattering light like the brightest star in the sky. Blue skies and the bright sun paled in its wake. A rainbow of refracted light scattered colors here and there.

Dainty hands hovered over the orb as if the smallest touch would burst it like a bubble. It was warm, magnetic — like a fire on a cold day.

The dead witch held the orb out even further, nodding to Emily with enthusiasm. Cordelia should appreciate the girl more, Nan thought. Perhaps, after this, she would. There were so many plans for the girl. More plans than a mortal mind could comprehend.

Emily cradled the orb like a child, her chest thrumming. A buzz filled her body. She looked between Nan and the object in her arms, unsure which she should focus on.

“What is it?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper, “is it—”

Nan smiled, “Exactly!”

Emily stared at her. Reading her thoughts, Nan smiled and nodded, giving the girl time to process.

“Your power,” Cordelia said.

Her eyes fixated on the orb as if it were a star held in Emily’s arm. “I’ve never seen—”

“I tried to give it to you last time,” Nan said, leaning in to whisper, “but you weren’t ready for it yet.”

“Ready?”

She looked to Cordelia, but the woman held no answers for her. When Emily turned back to Nan, the girl was gone, carried away by the breeze.

Cordelia looked to Emily only to stumble back and fall to the grass. Swallowed whole by verdant green. There was no pain. No sense of impact. Even if there were, she would not have noticed. All she could do was stare.

Emily’s green eyes had become a solid, glowing white that matched the glow of the orb in her hand. The girl looked ethereal — skin as clear as marble, hair swaying as if it were in water instead of air. When Emily knitted her brows and cocked her head in confusion, she didn’t look human at all. She looked… more.

Her gaze quickly returned to the orb, curling around it like a content cat. The smile on her face was that of relief, of a mother holding a newborn babe. Her hand gently brushed over the orb, trying to convince herself it was real.

“I’m afraid it will disappear as soon as I awake,” Emily said, a faint laugh leaving her as she said the words and looked back to Cordelia. “No matter how hard I try to pull it into the physical realm.”

Even her speech sounded different. Cordelia, at that moment, realized why Emily was so different than her other girls. With a power rooted in the limbo world — the world of visions, dreams, and hellish realms — Emily belonged more there than she did in the physical plane. The strain, the spark not quite a flame, was not her power trapped in this plane, but her body trapped in theirs.

Emily watched Cordelia, a flicker of anxiety and fear breaking past the overwhelming joy, “What must I do?”

The Supreme sputtered. She and Myrtle had worked tirelessly to create this spell, to get them into this limbo, but the next steps were lost to her. The blissful smile left the girl’s lips, Cordelia’s doubt hanging in the air like suffocating humidity. Why? Why did she torment her like this — with intangible possibilities and crushing hope?

The brunette’s voice caught in her throat. The sound startled the Supreme. “Please.”

For a moment, it seemed golden tears would pour from eyes of pure light. “I have missed it so much.”

One moment Cordelia was sprawled in the grass. The next she was standing. She had not moved to stand. It just, quite simply, was a fact. Something in her hand threw her off balance, hard and cool — A dagger, sharp enough to cut stone and polished so well she could see the conflict dancing in her eyes. Those eyes looked to the weapon with furrowed brows. Then, they looked at the girl before her.

What was this power? If she looked in her own soul, would her eyes be consumed by the same light? She thought of the dream Emily had told her, the child witch nearly burned to cinders. Was this the force that saved her that day?

Would this be a force that could save them?

But why was Nan there? Was it even Nan or was it a spirit playing pretend? You could never trust anything in a dream.

Emily stood, enamored by the orb, wanting to commit it to memory before it was lost for good.

Cordelia spared one last glance to the shining beacon in her student’s arms. The knife felt heavy. That heaviness only grew as the moments passed. It was divine, that light. She didn’t want to move. She wanted to bask in its light till the world stopped spinning.

But she was the supreme.

She was a leader.

She had lives to protect.

She had no choice.

In the end, it took little force to strike. Weight was but a concept in this realm. Cordelia’s ears rung as blinding light burst forth, a bomb of magic. Its comforting warmth burned with the heat of a thousand suns.

She had no choice.

The good of the coven had to come before all else.

“Delia? Delia, are you alright?”

Cordelia was pulled from her dream by an urgent voice. A blur of red was all she could see of Myrtle, a blur that refused to go away. Her hands shook over her face as she tried to rub her sight back into existence. Was she blind again? What had she done? She couldn’t be blind. Not now. There was far too much work to do. Far too much—

The Supreme swayed ever slightly and steadying hands tightened around her arms.

“Get me a chair,” Myrtle ordered.

“I’m fine,” Cordelia insisted, “Did we get it right? Did we—”

“Calm yourself, Delia. Getting worked up won’t help anyone.”

Cordelia felt a stood hit the back of her leg. With shaking hands, she reached back and lowered herself upon it. She couldn’t do this again. The girls could not see her fading. The warlocks could not see her fading. Not now. Not like this.

“Emily?” Cordelia called out, “Emily?”

Misty came beside her Supreme, brows knit with worry and hands reaching out for hers, “Miss Cordelia—”

Words were torn from her mouth as a loud gasp filled the room followed by a gust of wind that those of the inner circle could not shield themselves from. Queenie ducked to the ground, Myrtle to the table, and Madison to Zoe. If not for Misty, Cordelia would have been thrown to the ground. They shielded their eyes from the dust and debris that had accumulated over decades and when the wind stopped all they could do was stare with open mouths.

The greenhouse had always been well-loved. It had been attended to over the years by many a witch, creating a chaotic accumulation of plants, dirt, and tools. Cordelia herself had spent many an hour inside those walls. However, with her role as Supreme, she had found herself there less and less. The plants that did continue to grow were stubborn and dry, the colorful petals of flowers muted and wilting.

Cordelia rubbed her eyes and the blur receded from her sight, details coming into focus. First her fingers, then the table, and finally beyond.

“Oh, my god,” Zoe said, hardly louder than a whisper. Cordelia’s vision continued to clear, but she did not need sight to know the look upon the young woman’s face.

Queenie looked to her friend, muttering out, “holy fucking shit.”

Every brown, dry, and twisted stem now grew a verdant green. The flowers were brighter than any they had ever seen. Vines curled and moved before their eyes, curling up the table and around Emily’s arms.

She was still panting, covered in a cold sweat as if she had woken from a nightmare, but she could feel the vines slowly creeping up her hand. She held it up before her, eyes wide as the vine continued to advance up her arm. Her body was buzzing. The vine seemed to be a part of her, yet entirely separate from her being, a phantom limb or a tail that moved in instinct. It reached towards her wrist and settled in the palm of her hand, blooming a single small wisteria flower.

“Behold,” Myrtle spoke, “our oracle has awoken.”

Emily’s green eyes danced around her. Her heart drummed in her ears and nearly burst from her chest.

“Did I — Did I do this?”

Misty left Cordelia’s side, content now that the perceived danger had passed. A smile came to her lips as she came to Emily’s side, a spring in her step. She regarded Emily’s wide-eyed awe with amusement.

“I’m going to teach you about Louisiana mud now.”

“O— ok.”

“I don’t think she needs Louisiana mud,” Queenie noted, pulling off a few plants that had rooted themselves around her leg.

Misty frowned, “A little mud never hurt nobody.”

“Say that to my neck,” Madison scoffed, “I still have to use a bottle of perfume to mask the smell of shit.”

“I think that’s just you,” Zoe said.

“Whatever.”

Queenie moved closer to Emily as the two began to bicker.

“Did you see Nan again?” she asked.

Emily regarded her expression, the grief in her eyes and the heavy weight which pressed upon her shoulders. She nodded.

“Did she say anything?”

The expression on the brunette’s face spoke louder than her words. “Nothing beyond the circumstances.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Are you done being a killjoy?” Madison snapped from across the table.

Queenie’s grief quickly melded to annoyance, “You done being a bitch?”

“You say that like a bad thing.”

“Because it is.”

“Whatever.”

Flicking some dust off her shirt, Madison sauntered to the door only to turn back at the last moment.

“Welcome to the coven, bitch.” She said, “You’re our new Sabrina.”

When Emily stepped out of the greenhouse, the sky was scattered with stars. Time was different in the other. She shouldn’t have been surprised, but her mind was still buzzing, her ears still ringing.

She was a witch.

She was powerful.

She was something.

“Someone looks happy,” Misty noted, linking their arms together. Emily wasn’t even put off by the contact. All she could do was beam until her cheeks hurt. Words were intangible. Not a single one could describe the elation that beat in her chest with every step. If she could, she would soar.

“Careful there!”

Cordelia’s voice cut through the night, the songs of crickets and frogs stopping in their tracks. A hand latched on to the back of Emily’s shirt, pulling her back like a toddler on a leash. Her feet sink into the grass… or, should she say, back on the grass. The light from the house was enough for her to see Cordelia’s expression turn from that of surprise into one of amusement.

“Let’s save the levitation for later.”

“…my bad.”

The Supreme couldn’t quite place the look Emily gave her. It felt like she was looking past her… into her. She didn’t move, a deer caught in headlights. Her hand remained balled around a piece of Emily’s shirt until another voice broke the silence.

“Don’t worry, Miss Cordelia,” Misty assured, tightening her hold on the girl as the Supreme fell back into pace with her red-haired mentor, “I won’t let her float away.”

Queenie bumped Emily’s shoulder. “What else you got? Besides that, Airbender, Earthbender shit.”

“I… have no idea,” Emily said, “What else is there?”

Cordelia’s voice rang out behind them once more.

“Perhaps we should leave the experimentation for later.”

“You’re the one who keeps telling us to push ourselves.” Queenie reminded, reaching into her pockets and presenting a coin. “Here. Take it.”

Emily did as she was told, plucking the coin from her hand.

“Not like that, idiot. With your mind.”

“Oh.”

Holding the coin in her palm, Emily focused on her hand. Her fingers curled around the coin as if she were holding an apple instead. A picture of the coin pushed into her mind, she imagined plucking it up with her fingers, turning it in her hand.

The coin rose, fell, then rose again. Twisting her hand, it began to travel towards the girl before dropping in her empty palm. Emily shook her hand free of the buzzing, cracking her fingers for good measure.

“Smart-ass,” Queenie muttered.

“But you said—”

“I’m teasing, girl. Relax.”

“At least now you can actually participate during lessons,” Zoe noted, stepping aside to let Emily up the back steps of the mansion.

The brunette frowned, reaching for the handle of the back door, “I participate.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Look—”

One moment she was opening the door and the next she was in the hall. The breath left her lungs as she fell face-first onto the hardwood floors.

Zoe’s voice came from down the hall, “Emily?!”

“I’m fine,” the girl groaned, rolling over and laying on her back. When she looked up, the inner circle was coming around the corner. Queenie and Misty were snickering at the sight. She frowned.

“Oh. shut up.”

“At least you weren’t impaled,” Zoe offered, moving to help the girl to her feet.

“At least I wasn’t what now?”

“Don’t worry. Misty would make you good as new. You’ll smell like shit for a while, though — Louisiana Mud and all that.”

“Okay. Wait. Hold on.” Emily said, pushing up her glasses just so her hands had something to do, “Let’s go back for a second. You were way too calm about that. How often does this shit happen?”

“What was it?” Queenie asked, looking to Misty as she counted on her hand, “Madison died twice, Zoe died and came back, you died and came back and died again. Plus Nan, then me. So… seven times?”

“Don’t forget Myrtle.”

“Oh shit, you’re right. That’s two more deaths — so nine?”

“She died twice?”

“You were dead the second time,” Zoe interjected. Misty simply nodded in acknowledgment. “And don’t forget Fiona.”

“Fiona doesn’t count. She was a bitch.”

“So is Madison.”

Madison, who had been regarding the interaction quietly, frowned. “Hey!”

“Fair point. So that’s a total of ten.”

Emily looked to the three women with an expression of concern — like watching the village idiot run into a wall over and over and over.

“Only one impalement, though,” Misty reassured.

Emily sighed, “This place really needs to come with a liability warning.”

Zoe shrugged, “Just don’t use it to play tag and you should be good.”

“Well damn, that ruins all my plans for tomorrow.”

Zoe smiled and shook her head, “I think all that power is going to your head.”

“… maybe a little.”

“At least you’re honest.”

“One question: How do I stop the spontaneous…” Emily said, gesturing about her, “y’know?”

“Only by training and hard work, my dear” Myrtle spoke. “Which is why my dear Cordelia made you this.”

From her hands, a necklace hung. It wasn’t fancy or ornate. A simple thing, really. It looked like something you might find in a thrift store. At the end of the leather chain was a gold coin with a singular line carved in the center.

“It’s —”

Emily interrupted before she could finish, “The Isa rune.”

Myrtle smiled and nodded. Good. The girl was prepared. She would need that knowledge in the coming conflict.

“Simple, but effective,” The red-head said, “It should help you channel your power properly until you can do so yourself.”

The brunette looked at the amulet for a moment, turning it this way and that. Had runes always felt so… alive? The closest way she could describe magic was the buzzing of bees in your body mixed with a magnetic pull. Her eyes flickered between Myrtle and the coin.

“Thank you,” She finally spoke, moving to place the object around her neck. It weighed more than she thought it would and rested right under her heart.

“Think of it as insurance,” Myrtle said, “we’ve got enough destruction with our younger girls.”

“At least now I can keep up with them.”

“Or join them,” Madison said, pushing herself around the small crowd they had formed in the center of the hall, “now, if you’ll excuse me, I have more important things to do… like sleep.”

Emily listened to the sound of footsteps on the stairs behind her. Then, she turned.

“Madison.”

The woman sighed and turned around, “What?”

“Thank you.”

The former starlet was silent for a moment, then turned around and kept walking. “… Whatever.”

Emily smiled ever slightly and turned to the other girls. “You guys, too.”

“You know what they say:” Myrtle said with a knowing smile, “blood of the coven is thicker than the water of the womb.”

Her words echoed in Emily’s mind as she prepared for bed; rosewater for her face, rosemary for her hair. Before, they were household remedies. Rose was an anti-inflammatory that helped with redness. Rosemary promoted hair growth. There was something more to them now — her skin glowed and freckles danced across her face like stars, her hair was soft under her fingers and shone in the bathroom light.

Misty was already snoring when she made it back to her room, curled up on a thin mattress set up beside Emily’s bed. The brunette tip-toed across the floor, avoiding the creaky floorboard she had come to know by heart.

Heavy eyes pulled her towards the realm of dreams. The bed was warm, the sheets just heavy enough to sink her into the bed. Her thoughts began to slip into white noise, echoes of words that could not be recalled.

“Finis venit, ante initium.” A voice whispered, just as she was about to doze off. She hummed in annoyance, turning over on her side.

A cry made her blood turn to ice. She shot up in her bed, looking around for the source. She had nieces and nephews. She knew the sound of a baby’s cry. Footsteps paced the floor above and the cry continued — the attic.

“Misty,” She hissed, “Misty!”

Silence consumed the room, only broken by the baby’s cries. Emily climbed across her bed and reached to shake the woman awake.

“Misty! Do you hear that?”

The woman groaned and swatted at the hand that shook her. Her words came out low and slurred. “’Is jus’ a bird. Go t’ sleep.”

Emily looked to Misty, then back at the ceiling. Footsteps came from above once more. Then, as quickly as it had begun, the crying stopped. She regarded the ceiling with narrowed eyes, then slowly lowered herself back in the bed. Someone must have taken care of it. One of the younger girls probably had a nightmare.

With a sigh, she turned on her side, willing sleep to return to her. Her hair continued to stand on edge and an intense need to move plagued her limbs. With the grace of a mouse, she scampered over to the door, locked it, and threw herself into the covers once more.

The moon cast the room in a pale glow. Emily had lucked out, the room facing the back of the house where she was free from the obnoxious yellow lights from the street lamps. She looked at the plant on her bedside, wilted flowers now proudly blooming. She reached out a hand, picturing water crawling up the stem. Yellow petals turned blue, the color sweeping across them like an ink stain. Even when she pulled back, the color proudly stood. One minute, two minutes, three — the color remained.

Emily stared at it with pride. Something had awoken inside her, something she had yearned for since the moment she was born.

Power.

She finally had power.

#michael langdon #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon x you #michael langdon x oc #michael langdon imagine

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jemmasimmons · 4 years

Note

I know you said you've gone over all this before, but I don't know/haven't heard a solid Kataag argument before. Personally, not my ship, but I'd like to know more why Kataag? (you know, aside from just canon).

Hey Ella! Yes, of course :) And don’t worry, I haven’t actually really discussed this on tumblr. I was involved in ATLA fandom a lot back in the day, but that was all on forums/Livejournal. (RIP I’m old.) But, even if I had, I’m always happy to share my thoughts. (I’m sorry ahead of time for this being long.)

So, I don’t ship Kataang because it’s canon, per se. I do tend to like a lot of canon ships, but I also love many that aren’t. I would legitimately ship Kataang even things had turned out differently. (I do wish the buildup had been written a little more strongly, but that’s not something that can be changed.)

A lot of shipping metas are written in the style of “Aang vs. Zuko,” in terms of which one is better for Katara. I tend to dislike this because I love both characters so much. So, my approach will focus on what Kataang is instead of what Z*tara is not. I also think that Katara’s choice was not about picking between the two of them, but between picking if she wanted to be with Aang or not.

Anyway, why I like Kataang! Which is what I like to focus on anyway :)

Their relationship is built on incredible friendship, from the very moment that Katara found Aang in the iceberg. From my own relationship experience, if you can have fun and enjoy time with your partner no matter what you’re doing, it helps you get through anything. Friendship is the best basis for a relationship.

Their relationship is also built on strong trust and respect. The ability to communicate disagreements in a healthy way. Yes, there have been times where Aang and Katara have butted heads, but they always resolved it by talking it through and not ignoring the issue. And they respect each other as equals.

They have a good sense of each other’s personality and quirks. Katara is fiery and emotional, so Aang is always good at soothing her and being the complement she needs. When Aang is flighty, Katara stays and helps him. They each understand why the other is prone to grief and rage, and try to stop the other from experiencing it. They make each other better, which is basically my criteria for a ship I love.

They support each other’s goals and dreams. Aang does whatever he can to help Katara learn waterbending and support her. Katara supports Aang in his trials and tribulations. They reassure each other when the other is insecure or going through something. They also jump to protect the other at a moment’s notice.

While they do have good complementary features, at the end of the day their values and beliefs are very much aligned. They want to help people. They want to make the world a better place. Aang doesn’t get mad that Katara lied to him in “The Painted Lady,” instead he praises her initiative and helps her destroy the factory, no questions asked. They are both optimistic, hopeful “goody goodies.” Katara could have killed Azula. Just let her drown in the water. But she didn’t; she chose to spare her. Same way Aang did Ozai. Neither of them forgave their perpetrators per se (I don’t think Aang ‘forgives’ Ozai or Sozin), but they used their forgiveness to form new bonds and give other people chances.

Aang brings fun, hope, and joy into Katara’s life. While she has been forced to grow up early because of the war, he allows her to experience being a kid and having fun. Having a partner that can bring joy to you in dark moments is something that’s very underrated, and the importance of hope. Each of them brings each other the promise of a better future, which is what they hold on to when everything else is dark.

And, I do think that all of these feelings also lead to romantic attraction. Katara and Aang have both gotten jealous, have both repeatedly thought of each other romantically. The first and last time kissing came up/happened between them, Katara initiated. I know there are frequent arguments of Aang being too young (looking) for her. But, Aang is one of the most mature characters in the show. (Just the way he dealt with the chakras—those are levels of trauma that people take years to work through if they do at all!) I am certain if Aang had been drawn a bit taller than Katara that people wouldn’t be so against them. In any case, I think that the show has shown Katara’s interest in Aang and that it’s mutual.

I’m getting a bit long and I don’t want to get out of control, but I think I got the main ideas out. I hope this helps see when I’m coming from and why I do love their relationship so much. I have a real weakness for characters that really try to be positive and good, despite all the reasons they have not to be, and I see that both embodied in Aang and Katara.

Note: Please don’t take this meta as me trying to preach or shift anyone’s thoughts—I’ve learned in shipping that’s not really a thing—I’m just explaining my personal feelings.

#ellaraeraerae #maggie replies #kataang #aang #katara #I tried not to mention the other ship because I didn't want it to show up in searches #not because I'm criticizing it #I just want to focus on my love for these two bbs! :)

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the-lightning-strikes-again · 5 years

Note

Can you please have Lotor and the paladins watch Into the Spiderverse and/or Star Wars? I'd love to hear his reactions to Earth's theories of multiple dimensions and space travel before it was known to be possible. (As well as the "I am your father" plot twist!)

Movie Time With TSLLotor – Star Wars: Episode V - The Empire Strikes Back (1980) Edition

“No.” Lotor’s slit eyes widened as he stared at the screen.His jaw dropped slightly. And then he raised his hand to the holographicinterface to pause Star Wars: EmpireStrikes Back. “No, that is not possible.”

Pidge sat next to him. She pushed her finger against his jawto click his fangs shut. “It totally is.”

Lotor blinked. “Darth Vader is Luke Skywalker’s father?” he askedincredulously. “The hero is the son of the villain?”

“Yeah. Pretty cool, huh?”

The prince’s elfin ears pulled back, his face tight in a mixof delight and validation. “The hero is the sonof the villain. They both use this…same force that flows through all, butyet Skywalker uses it for good.”

“Yeah, cause he’s still the good guy,” Pidge said with ashrug. “Doesn’t matter where he came from.”

To Lotor’s left, one Princess Allura still sat in horror,her hands covering her mouth, her beautiful eyes wide. “Ngh,” she squeaked,still staring at Luke’s missing hand. “Keith, you didn’t tell me there wasgoing to be dismemberment.”

On the floor, one Keith lay on his side, delightedlymunching on popcorn. “It’s not like it shows much. I mean, this was the 1980s. Specialeffects were still kinda bad.”

Allura looked down and lightly nudged Keith with her foot indisapproval. “But I like Luke,” shewhined. “And his own father just cut off his hand—that is so cruel andterrible.”

“…It’s awesome,” Keith argued.

“It’s terrible,” she retorted right back, her white browsknitting together. “Honestly, Keith, where is your sense of empathy?”

His lips stretched as he turned to stare up at her. “Takinga nap.”

“Obviously.” And then she tossed some popcorn at him, whichhe jerked to the side and caught it with his mouth.

Allura’s elfin ears flicked in interest of his reflexes, andso she did it again, tossing a popcorn kernel at him, which he caught onceagain in his mouth, crunching down on the popcorn in satisfaction. His eyesglinted merrily.

That managed to garner the attention of Kosmo, who ploddedover to sniff Keith’s face. Then he licked the boy’s mouth in interest of thepopcorn salt. Keith sputtered out a noise between a laugh and a gag as heraised up his hand to gently push Kosmo’s muzzle away. The space wolf lickedhis cheek in response, wagging his tail.

Allura giggled at the sight and turned to Lotor.

The man was still puzzling over the movie’s various aspects,murmuring to Pidge in awe and surprise, “—Particularly advanced for a culturehaving traveled off-planet only several decaphoebs before, capturing not onlythe power but also the mundane quality of space travel. It is so very rare forcivilizations not to worship or otherwise present space travel as a means of obtaininggodhood.”

The girl shrugged. “I mean, our rocket that got us to themoon, the Saturn V, was said to be made of parts from the lowest bidder, andeven the astronauts got tired of talking about the moon after a couple ofdecades. As a species, I’d say we get bored pretty easily. The new wears offfast, you know?”

Lotor raised his hand to point at her. “That is preciselywhat I mean. Contextualization of advancement. Most early civilizations likeyour own would worship space travel in a spiritual sense, and yet even yourlanguage about real events—like your Saturn V and first trip to Earth’s moon—delegatessuch to the realm of the everyday. The exponential learning curve of humans,and your emotional response as a species, is quite fascinating.”

“You saying we’re freaks or something?”

“Just…strangely aware. Even the concept of the Force is surprisingto me. It is rudimentary in description,” Lotor continued, brows knitted togetherin thoughtfulness, “but particularly reminiscent of quintessence—down to itsability to be manipulated by people of all moral alignments. Tell me, does this…StarWars represent humanity’s reigning philosophy of the essence of life?”

Pidge pushed up her glasses in pride. “Actually, the ideabehind the Force is very old. Even early humans believed there was somethingthat tied all living beings together. The names for it changed—ancient humanscalled it the fifth element. Medieval scholars even called it quintessence fora time.”

Lotor’s head tilted in interest. “And what do humans call itnow?”

“Our most equivalent theory would be dark matter—but westill can’t really do anything with it like you or Allura can.”

The prince looked down at his own fingers and allowed themto spark to life with a slight glow of purple. “Dark matter seems to suggest apeculiar obscurity, but it is quite visible to me.”

Pidge dared to grab onto one of his hands, inspecting theglow his fingertips with a scientific curiosity. “They say dark matter is acollection of stars that haven’t ignited or they’ve already exploded, leaving pocketsof energy across the universe. Somehow, you and Allura tap into that unignitedenergy and manifest it for yourself.” Her thin brows furrowed. “But the energyisn’t hot like a star, and I’m not sure how you…channel it.”

Lotor’s voice lifted in delight of a lecture, his eyesbright and face glowing with the awe of human entertainment, which allowed forsons of villains to be heroes. “It is all a matter of being attuned tosurrounding frequencies. But your movie would suggest that quintessencemanifests itself on a spectrum aligned to some moral perception. Blue for good.Red for evil. In truth, the color depends on the frequency or concentration ofthe energy.” He turned to Allura, who was watching them with great curiosity. “Princess,can you help me demonstrate this?”

“Of course,” she murmured happily. She snapped her fingers,and within her palm manifested a glowing light, the same color as Lotor’s. “Purpleis of a high concentration and frequency—only trained alchemists or those withinnate ability can manifest such. There is no moral alignment for it, although Galran-minedquintessence takes on this spectrum per the attempts to gatherless-concentrated quintessence into something more.” Her hand turned, and theglow suddenly turned red. “This color, as I’m sure you know, Pidge, has a lower,more enduring frequency and so is found most readily in planets.” Then Allura’s hand twitched as she narrowed her eyes. The color of her fingertipsbegan to glow blue. “This is of a similar frequency. And the highest frequencyappears as pure black, which is the totality of all quintessence spectrumsabsorbed within the power itself.” Her full lips twitched in a sad way as theglow died about her fingertips. “But I will not show you here, for I do notwish to draw attention from those who would sense its power.”

Her words were a thinly veiled reference to the witch Haggar.

Her eyes flickered to Lotor’s, and he searched her.

Pidge cut between them. “Wait, wait,” she said, narrowingher eyes. “Pure quintessence is black?” Her lips stretched. “As in, dark matter?”

Lotor did not look away from Allura, his voice distant evenas he managed a twitch of his lips. “Perhaps human theories are not so far fromthe truth, then.” The glow died from his hands as well. “Though I will admit, Ihave never been able to attempt such a concentration.”

“Perhaps one day,” Allura murmured softly, “I could show youhow to achieve manifesting black quintessence.”

The prince smiled at her, his eyes glimmering. “I would lovefor you to show me the darkness, princess.” And then his smile stretchedfarther. “As long as it does not require becoming a Sith lord.”

Keith raised his hand. “Siths are cooler than Jedi, just saying.”

Pidge rolled her eyes. “No way. The Jedi are so much moreawesome. Also, they have green light sabers.”

“And Siths have red,” Keith argued lightly. “Why do you thinkI like them?”

Allura giggled. Then she turned to Lotor and murmured, “I donot believe you will have to become a Sith lord to achieve mastery ofquintessence.”

“Then what must I become, princess?”

“My padawan,” she giggled, reaching up to pat his head.

Lotor’s face-faulted, then huffed in a mix of misery andgreat amusement. Here he was, ten-thousand years old and still an apprentice. “Oneday,” he said, voice straining, “I hope to become your equal.”

The words inspired a bloom of a blush upon Allura’s face asher fingers slipped from his hair, which was soft against her skin. “I would verymuch like that.”

He smoothed down his hair where she had displaced it. “And ifyou were to teach me, I would assure you that I would use such knowledge responsiblyas well, even though I am the son of your enemy.” He tilted his chin to the moviescreen. “None of this dark-side domination.”

She lightly grabbed onto his hand and squeezed his largepalm. “You are not your parents, as I am not mine.”

His long, clawed fingers squeeze against her own to reciprocatethe touch. His sharp cheeks flushed in a manner similar to Allura’s—an awe atbeing near a kindred spirit.

“…Hey, can you guys stop flirting,” Keith cut in with a deadpan,“so can we finish the movie?”

#Movie Time with TSL Lotor #The Second Law #Lotor #Lotura #Allura #Keith #Pidge #ahh omg science invaded #as did history #i really enjoyed this prompt #I wonder if Lotor would like Star Wars or Star Trek better #Just imagine this bab outlining the merits of both and puzzling over which he likes more #my writings

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hurt-care · 5 years

Note

Love your fics! If you ever feel like writing it, I'd loove to see some Remus trying to hide a cold from Sirius but like, of course he can't hide anything from his Sirius

Thank you!! Great prompt ;) Here’s a little something....!

----

Admitting Defeat

The kitchen at Grimmauld Place was abuzz with activity and Sirius Black was tiring of it. The innumerable Weasleys, the various other Order members coming and going, and so on. He liked having people around to soothe the doldrums that came with being trapped in his hated ancestral home, but too many people was overwhelming. He was used to being alone with only the tortured cries of those in neighbouring cells.

He poured a glass of Firewhiskey and sat down at the table, massaging his temples against the din of Bill and Charlie Weasley's booming voices discussing Wizarding politics in Spain. Hestia was at the stove, cooking up some concoction for the evening's supper.

It was a great relief when a quiet, safe face appeared in the kitchen. Remus Lupin, stooped over with his usual withdrawn hunch, came in and went straight for a tea cup and then paused in front of the tea storage to select a box from the back of the cupboard.

Lemon ginger, Sirius noted curiously. He normally drank Darjeeling.

“Hiya Moony,” he said as Remus sunk into a chair opposite him with his hands curled around his steaming mug.

“Hey,” Remus replied. He sounded a little hoarse, which wasn't unusual, but coupled with the odd choice of tea made it more suspect. While there were many things about his past that were foggy in Sirius' memory, the memories of his friends remained crystal clear. Even twenty years later, he could tell just by a slight change in Remus' demeanour that something was wrong. Not to mention that the man's nose looked distinctly rough and reddened at the nostrils.

“Where have you been? It's like a can of pixies flying around down here. I was just considering going to hide out upstairs.”

Remus raised an eyebrow.

“A can of pixies?”

“Isn't that the expression?” Sirius asked.

“Maybe in your family. The expression was clown car in my house.”

“That makes no sense,” Sirius replied. “What sort of clowns drive cars? I thought you said they were in that...err, is it a sirrus?”

“Circus,” Remus answered, his voice betraying a hint of weariness. “Also an apt metaphor. Should we hide out in the library instead?”

“I think so,” Sirius agreed, taking up his Firewhiskey and leading the way.

Remus sunk down onto the overstuffed couch and flicked his wand at the fireplace, sending flames bursting to life. With a grimace, he hoisted his legs up and rested them on a pillow.

Sirius watched carefully. Remus seemed to grimace a lot more than he remembered. They'd both aged, of course, but the aches from transformations seemed ever-present. He'd wondered about sending an owl to Madam Pomfrey to ask if werewolves could get arthritis from their frequent injuries, but he figured she had enough on her plate keeping the current students at Hogwarts alive. And she'd never really liked him much after the whole Prank situation anyhow...

Remus yawned furtively, turning his face away from Sirius.

“You've been tired a lot,” Sirius commented. “You okay?

“Mmhmm,” Remus confirmed. “Fine. War is tiring.”

“Where did Dumbledore have you to off yesterday?”

“It was to look at that Selwyn tip,” Remus replied. “Mostly it consisted of me sitting in the rain watching a storefront for six hours. Thrilling, tiring stuff.”

“”Hopefully under an Impervious charm, at least?”

“Yeah, one on my coat. Couldn't make the full bubble shield though. It was a Muggle neighbourhood. Had to settle for an umbrella.”

He cleared his throat with a cough and sipped at his tea.

“And you got a cold?” Sirius pushed.

“What?” Remus replied. “No?”

“Lemon ginger tea, Moony?”

“It's good.”

“You've never liked lemon things.”

Remus scowled.

“I don't have a cold. What, are you Molly now?”

“Your nose just looks a little sore,” Sirius commented.

Remus rubbed his nose with his hand distractedly. This seemed to trigger some sort of unexpected response, however. Remus cupped his hands over his nose and sneezed roughly.

Hurhh-TSGHHT!

He kept one hand clamped over his nose and held out the other, twisting his wrist. A handkerchief appeared there and he wiped off his face.

Sirius watched, appreciating the wandless magic. Remus has always been the best at it, though he rarely showed off how well he could do it. The ability was too tied up in his werewolf DNA to be one he felt confident about. But this simple, necessarily bit was still impressive, even if Sirius knew that the handkerchief only had to dissolve and reappear from the nearby safety of Remus' pocket. He never went anywhere without one when he was ill.

“Want to tell me again that you don't have a cold?”

“It's winter, it's dry,” Remus said. “My nose isn't a fan.”

He sniffled and wiped his nose again.

“I know what will help with that,” Sirius said. “A humidity charm on your room and a good nap.”

Remus glared at him.

“Padfoot can come keep your company. I could use a kip.”

“Fine,” Remus relented. “You're right. I'm trying to fight it and I should just rest up and not get it worse.”

“Oh my god,” Sirius exclaimed. “Did Remus Lupin just admit to feeling unwell and agree to go to bed? Mr. Lupin, I'm a reporter for the Daily Prophet. Do you care to comment on this incredible change of tune?”

Remus laughed hoarsely and began to cough, waving his hand at Sirius to stop.

“Cut it out,” he wheezed. “You git.”

Sirius grinned.

“I'll go get you another cup of lemon-ginger,” he said. “Go on up and get comfy.”

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padawanlost · 6 years

Note

Well, the most simply answer to "wtf is a Sith" would be that they're people who have the same powers as the Jedi, but unlike them they solely use them for their own gain. Of course the Jedi would then be in the uncomfortable position to have to explain to both the Republic and the CIS why they kept the existence of such a dangerous sect secret, but that's something I'd actually be delighted to see as while the Jedi are certainly not evil, they do need to get off their high horse somewhat.

But here isthe problem: people don’t know about the Jedi either. The Jedi Order was soremoved from the rest of the galaxy most people didn’t know what the Jedi didor if they even existed.

Let’s takeBail Organa as an example. Bail was respected Senator and a member of theSenate’s Security Committee. And here is what he thought and knew about theJedi:

“If it’s Jedi business, why come to me? Youshould be speaking with them.” Ignoring his own tea, [Bail] shook his head. “I don’t know them, Padmé. At least, notwell. Not the way you do. And they don’t know me. There’s no reason to thinkthey’d believe what I have to say. Especially given the circumstances.” [KarenMiller’s The Clone Wars: Wild Space]

“Padmé,” [Bail] said, and swung about to faceher. “Have you ever heard of the Sith?”Sith. The name alone was enough to raise her hackles. Twice their machinationshad nearly killed her. And because of the hurt inflicted upon Anakin, and themurder of Qui-Gon Jinn, and the sufferings of Naboo under Trade Federationoccupation, the Sith had earned her undying hatred. But she couldn’t tell Bailthat. As Naboo’s child-Queen, she’dpromised Master Yoda she would never reveal what she’d learned of them. She’drenewed that promise to Obi-Wan on the desperate flight from Geonosis toCoruscant, when she’d overheard things not meant for her ears. Sithlightning. Dooku. A dreadful betrayal. So with only the smallest twinge of conscience,she looked at Bail Organa and lied to him a second time. “Sith? No. Why?Who—what—are they?” “I don’t know,” hesaid, frustrated. [Karen Miller’s The Clone Wars: Wild Space]

“Padmé, please. I can’t do this without you.You’re the Jedi’s friend, a trusted ally. If you speak up for me, if you vouchfor me to them, then—” “They’ll trust you?” Though she was deeply disturbedby his news, she had to smile. “The friend of my friend is my friend?” His ownsmile was as brief. [Karen Miller’s The Clone Wars: Wild Space]

Padmécontacts Obi-wan and he goes to her home.

“I have a visitor, Obi-Wan. Senator BailOrgana of Alderaan. He claims to have received word of a planned attack againstyou … by the Sith.” Betweenbreaths he changed. She felt it. Felt the warmth of his humanity flash-freezeto ice. Felt the air surrounding them crackle with power. In the hangar onNaboo, facing the red-and-black Sith assassin—in her apartment bedroom, havingnarrowly escaped being murdered by the bounty hunter Zam Wessell—in the arenaon Geonosis, staring at monstrous, mechanical death—she’d felt it then, too:Jedi. She stepped back, her skin prickling. “I’ve told him nothing. Whatever he knows, his contact told him.” “Whatcontact?” Obi-Wan asked. “What precisely does Senator Organa know?” “You’llhave to ask him that,” she said. “He came to me because the Jedi don’t know himvery well. Because he trusts me, and he knows you trust me, too.” OutwardlyObi-Wan seemed to do nothing, but his terrible aspect eased. Her skin stoppedprickling. “And do you trust him?” he asked, mildly enough. “I do. He’s a goodman, Obi-Wan. He loves the Republic. He works as hard as any Jedi to see itkept safe.” There was the faintestderision in Obi-Wan’s clear blue eyes. “He’s a politician, Padmé.” [KarenMiller’s The Clone Wars: Wild Space]

“Then what?Senator, if you have an observation to make about the Jedi, you should feelfree to make it. We are not some secret society, immune from publiccommentary.” Organa swallowed the rest of his ale in one gulp. “No. But you are pretty mysterious.”“Mysterious? I hardly think so.” “Ha,” said Organa. “Now who’s beingdisingenuous? Sure, you’ve got a publicface. Guardians of the peace. Upholders of the law. Protectors of the weak andhelpless. Wherever there’s trouble, there’s a Jedi trying to put out the fire.Everyone knows that. But you’re a bit spooky, too. You’ve got this mystique.This—this aura. You’re not like the rest of us, Master Kenobi. You’re beingsapart, with powers and abilities ordinary folk can’t understand. You getblown up and hey presto! You’re healed. Not a mark to show for it. Not a limp.Not anything. When normal people get hurt, there’s a consequence. But not foryou Jedi.” [Karen Miller’s The Clone Wars: Wild Space]

Thissituation changes after Bail befriends Obi-wan but senators like Bail and Padméwere only one of the very few in the galaxy who knew about the Jedi’s abilities.And Padmé knew a little more than Bail because Anakin told her. so if, BailOrgana, a man we know had close ties with the Jedi knew very little about theForce and its inner working, I doubt the average citizen would know enough tounderstand what a Jedi was capable of.

Even theclones didn’t fully understand what it meant to be a Jedi. they too had a lotof questions that went mostly unanswered. The Jedi were private. They callthemselves open to the galaxy but the truth is most people didn’t even knowexisted. And those who did, didn’t know how they worked or what they could do.as we all know, the Jedi were masters at keeping secrets and lying about the knowledgeand power they had.

So saying aSith is the equivalent of an evil Jedi wouldn’t mean much to a population thathad no idea what a Jedi was.

Btw…oh yeah…I would pay all the money in the world to see Yoda squirm trying to explain theCouncil’s lies to the entire galaxy!! Now THAT is what I’d call a good storylol

#ask #anon #jedi order #sw meta #bail organa #au #meta: bail #what if #txt

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clockworkfromspace · 4 years

Conversation

The Book v2 chapter 2

*Andrè begins to walk about the halls toward the door*

Chris was in there even though he was an Ultrabeings

Jea: Hi Chris!

He waves

Any teachers?

No? Good.

Mr. Taio: Okay everyone. Welcome to Ultra Study. If you took this class with me before, you should know that I am one of the seven most capable people equipped to teach this class.

*Andrè runs outside*

FREEEEEEEEDOMMMM

...

Freedom feels the same as being imprisoned

After school

Jea and Jenifer get on their bus

Josh goes to the car rider exit

*The next day*

Chris was already there

-Josh waits outside the bus ramp for the twins-

-their bus originally shows up-

Chris walks to the bus ramp but sees Josh and walks away

*Andrè shows up to school with a knife on his belt*

Morning

Chris was walking back needing to talk to jea

-the twins walk off the bus but Jea dresses like Jenifer so it's harder to tell them apart-

"Uuhh....jea?...."

-Jenifer subtlety points at Jea-

He looks at jea "Can I talk to you privately please?..."

Jea gasps

"How'd you know it was me? Do wolves have one sort of 6th sense or something?"

"No not really but this is important..."

Weird humans

Imma go inside

Jea: What do you need?

"Something happened yesterday and I need your help...."

Jea: Go on

"Can I talk to you without people around? Please"

Jenifer: I got where she goes

"Fine i-i'm...homeless my abusive brother threw me out yesterday"

Live in a tent-like I do

"So...the reason I wanted to talk to jea is that I trust her..."

Jenny: Need me to pound on your big bro? -she cracks her knuckles-

Need a hit?

Jea: No more fighting! You promised Jenny.

Just stole a night vision scope yesterday

Jenny: I promised I'd fight less.

Well I'm a free spirit

No parents

No relatives

No love or compassion

Jenifer: You dude, who are you anyway?

Andrè

I'm a hitman

Sorta

If someone would hire me

Jenifer: I have a few enemies.

Jea: Jennyyyyy

Jenifer: Kidding! -she mouths- "Sort of"

Heh

Who are you, people

Jea looks at both of them

"I'm not leaving the two of you alone. Now back to Chris"

Jea: I'm Jea and this is my sister Jenny. That's all there really is to us.

"Really...."

So Chris

"Hm?"

Tents are 15 bucks at Walmart

"I am not living in no tent!"

Man up

I live in one

"And I have no money my brother has it all"

Get a job

Jea: No one should have to live in a tent.

Jenifer: I agree but it's not like there's a variety of options

Jea frowns

Welp

My mom left and my dads dead soooooo

Jea: Oh! I know. He can live with us

Jenifer: Dad would never let that slide

Jea: You're right

Jenifer: Though, they don't really need to know...

If they found out

I don't think they'd appreciate having enough bombs in their basement to cause world war 3

Jenifer: Then I'll take the heat.

Jea: Jenny no.

Jenifer: Were not debating this.

Well

It's nicer than waking up to 3 wolf spiders

Jea: By the way, you weren't serious about the bombs right?

Ummm

Maybe

But I do have sniper rifles and assault rifles

Jenifer: Dude, as cool as it sounds, no heavy artillery in the house. Maybe a few handguns. Something easy to hide.

Where the hell am I supposed to keep my mini-nuke?

I'm joking

Jea: Thank god

But where am I supposed to, keep my guns

Jea: How about you keep all of your things that could be used to incriminate you in your tent.

Jea: and OUT OF OUR HOUSE

Jenifer: Also, where are we going to keep them? Andre and Chris I mean.

Jea: no one uses the attic.

Jenifer: Too many webs to clean.

Jenifer: though, if they're willing to clean it out.

Meh

Can't be that bad

Jea turns to Chris

"What do you say?"

He smiles and nods

-later that day, at the end of school-

Jea: Our dad shouldn't be home but just in case, well sneak you through the back door

"And your mom?"

Jea: Dead.

"Oh.....i'm sorry for asking...."

Jea: Its fine.

Jenifer: Come on, our bus is this way

He nods and follows

*Andrè follows*

They get to the house-

-Jenifer leads them to the attic-

"thank you again"

Jea: Anything for a new friend.

Thanks

I only have my micro smg and my 2 revolvers

That's it

Jea: NO GUNS!

Jenifer: Chill out sis

"Dang.."

Hm?

Jea: what's wrong Chris

"N-nothing..."

Jea: Why'd you say dang?

Hello strange human

"Forget i said anything"

hello

my name’s jeff

Jea: What are you doing in our house?

idk i just popped into existence

so who are all of you?

Jea: I'm Jea, this is my twin sister Jenny, this our friend Chris, and some random guy named Andre

I'm a psychotic motherfucker with guns

-You all hear the front door-

Great combination

Chris turns into a puppy and hides

dude that is awesome

Jenifer: Quickly, get into the attic

Jea: And you, mystery guy, sorry but you've got to go

me?

Jenifer: Yeah you

ok *dissappears and reappears in the attic*

Mr. Kon: Girls I'm home!

-Jea walks to the living room- "Hi daddy"

Jenifer: Andre hurry up while Jea distracts him

*wonders why I had to go into the attic*

*Andrè sneaks to the attic*

*whispers*oh hey.

*whispers* why are we in here?

We're not supposed to be here

oh ok

-Jenifer closes it-

wanna see something cool andrè?

Sure

watch this... *morphs into a pit viper and slithers around andrè*

Cool

I would shoot you but that would compromise us

*morphs back into a human*

That would*

don’t shoot me

Mr. Kon notices Christ's tail

Mr. Kon: Jea, did you bring home another stray?

I’m an animagus. I can transfigure into a snake at will

Jenifer whispers: go with it

He yelps scared and runs off

Jea: Yeah. But don't be upset.

don’t laugh at me... *disappears and reappears behind André*

behind*

I can teleport too

Jenifer: I told her not to but look at his eyes.

Mr. Kon: I can't he keeps running off.

so whatcha wanna do why we’re stuck up here

Chris sits down in front of Mr. Kon and looks at him with sad eyes

Jea: Can we pleaaaase keep him?

-Mr. Kon notices a lack of man parts- "I think you mean her and..... Sure."

Jenifer: She meant him. Meet the world's first transgender dog.

Mr. Kon: The fuck?

Jea: SWEAR JAR!

The dog smiles at jenny

Mr. Kon: Are you kidding me?

Jea: Nope!

His tail wags a lot

He jumps on Mr. Kon

Mr. Kon: Ah

-the next day-

Chris wakes up

He gets ready and heads to the bus stop without being seen

*Andrè sneaks out the house and walks to school

Out*

*teleports from the attic to the first block*

Chris was in his first block

ooh hey. I remember you. u were that puppy!

He blushes "y-ya...."

*teleports behind Chris* I can transfigure into a snake

Chris stabs jeff before he spoke not knowing who it was

*writhes in pain* ow-owwww

"Oh god...... I'm so sorry" he bandages it up

i-it’s fine

I heal fairly fast too

*wound stops bleeding*

"So your not human either?"

idk what I am

I’m a teleporting animagus

and I have fairly fast healing abilities

"Which is not human"

yeah

"And you already know I'm not human but anyway what's your name I forgot to ask"

it’s jeff

yours?

"Chris"

well nice to meet you, Chris! *sticks hand out to shake Chris's hand*

Chris shakes his hand

so, who were the other people?

"Idk their classes...."

well, who were they?

"Jea and jenny"

*time skip to lunch*

Jea, Jenifer, and Josh show up

Together

Chris walks up to them he looks at jea and jenny "please don't be mad at me because of yesterday"

Jea: Mad about what?

*walks into the cafeteria and over to Chris*

hey guys

"About your dad seeing me... And hey"

*whispers to Chris* do other people at the school know about us having abilities or do we have to keep that hidden?

Jea: That wasn't your fault

Jenifer: It was a little. He could have stayed calm and rushed to the attic instead of running off as a puppy.

"Keep them hidden"

Jenifer: Though things worked out for the better

"Y-ya...."

damn... that means I gotta walk places

Jenifer: It's better to have him disguised as a puppy then hiding him like Andre

you guys must me Jea and Jenifer. I’m jeff

Jea: We already met

oh yeah

Jea: You popped into our house

still don’t know how I got there

"Ya"

thanks

I wanna pull a prank *smirks*

"On who?"

I don’t know

we gotta find a group of preppy girls

Jea: That would be mean.

I know

Jenifer: Yet funny.

but hella funny

Jenifer: I'm in.

Jea: Jennyyyyy.

ayy... i like your attitude *smiles and looks at jenifer* u seem pretty cool.

well chris can turn into a puppy, correct?

Jea: You're a bad influence -she glares at Jeff-

i know *smirks*

Jenifer: Not really, sweety. I was born this way. He has nothing to do with it

Jea: Yeah but he came up with the prank idea.

"Ya jeff i can.."

Jea: Besides, you've already been written up 11 times and it's only the third day of school.

Jea: Make that 15

Jea: CHRIS NOT YOU TOO

so the plan is, you’re gonna lure them over to you with the adorable puppy eyes

Josh: Can I help?

Jenifer: ew, no way.

"Oh no...."

and then i’m gonna be in snake form and i’m going to teleportin between them and you

teleport in between*

it’ll be great.

Jenifer: More of a jump scare than a prank.

and sure josh i guess you and jenifer can point chris out

yeah but still funny as hell

so you guys in?

"Yes!"

Jea turns around and crosses her arms

Jenifer: Hell yeah

Josh: Yep

-jenifer pushes Josh aside-

#AST

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