#the rod that blocks the lightning

[ceiling-karasu]

Oh no wait. Panama.

Is that in control of the United States Alliance?

[kosmicpowers]

@ceiling-karasu

I dooo 😭 omg you put so much effort into everything

Stop worldbuilding like you're a school that rejects humanities in favor of stem. I'm tired of seeing people stress over researching plate tectonics and mineral deposits but put no care into how realistic or interesting their cultures, economies and politics are. Who cares about the realism of your landmass if you just put a giant empire of catholic coded white people on your most Europe part of it and made their culture no deeper than "good guys" with no government structure beyond your rightful heir taking the throne and no internal varation on their culture.

Like, please inject more realism and life into your cultures. Your politics. Your religion. It matters very little that you have a realistic map with the mountains and rivers in the right places. It matters a lot more that your evil empire should probably be more complicated than an evil race that is evil by nature.

[banicraft]

Let's get Roddy with it!

[mbat]

not liking minecraft copper is a red flag to me, especially if the given reason is 'its useless'

my brother in this universe, its a building block in the building with blocks game

[nonightingalesinberkelysquare]

WARNING FOR GOOD OMENS SPOILERS!!!!

FURTHER SLIGHT SPOILER WARNING FOR THE FOLLOWING BOOKS: The Bone Clock by David Mitchell, You Only Call When You're In Trouble by Stephen Mcauley, and Bibliomaniac by Robin Ince.

Edit: Photos by @polychromicron-persei-8 !!!!!

So I'm sure a lot of the fandom have seen the pictures posted by a very lucky fan who saw the production of good omens happening out in Scotland today!!

However what I'm not seeing people talk about is a hidden gem in the reblogs.

SOMEONE HAD MANAGED TO GET A PICTURE OF THE BOOKS IN THE WINDOW!!!

Naturally, I had to go and do my research to see if these books give us any clues or serve any other purposes other than decorative purposes

AND LET ME TELL YOU

These are the the books visible in the window:

I'll go through them one by one

(Please bear in mind, I haven't read any of these books personally!! The only information I have on them are the little bits I found online in a very rushed attempt at research!!!)

Okay firstly

"The Bone Clocks" by David Mitchell

Now, this is the one that I struggled to make sense of the most out of the three.

The story appears to follow a runaway teenage girl who is a "lightning rod for psychic phenomena." These visions are said to reorder reality and send her into a real life nightmare.

However,

It also states that there is a boy who eventually crosses paths with her and who's story "comes together in moments of grace and extraordinary wonder"

As I said, I've never read these books and the only link I could begin to make with this is the idea of a "supernatural being meets another supernatural being and what they can do when they're together defies anyone's wildest dreams" story, similar to what we have seen and could see in GO3.

The next book is where it gets FARRRR more interesting (in my opinion)

NOW

THE TITLE? INTERESTING ASF.

IS AZIRAPHALE IN TROUBLE? OR EVEN CROWLEY?

The quotes are literally taken from the amazon listing itself, but I'll just point out the bits that stuck out to me personally.

☆ "is it ever okay to stop caring for others and start living for yourself?"

And I'm skipping a HUUUUGE chunk of the story here so apologies

☆ "Tom does what he's always done - answers the call."

☆ "Thus begins a journey that will change everyone's life and demonstrate the beauty or dysfunction (or both?) of the ties that bind families together and sometimes strangle them."

THAT LAST QUOTE REALLY STICKS OUT TO ME. Personally, I'd say that could possibly relate to the heaven and hell divides?

But furthermore, we were told prior to the whole NG situation that Aziraphale and Crowley aren't talking.. so could that mean that as soon as they begin speaking once again, they have the power to leave heaven and hell behind? Perhaps stop the divides?

And last, but certainly not least

Now, keep in mind that this particular book is nonfiction and appears to be written from the authors own point of view as he aims to visit 100 bookshops in 100 days.

This has a relatively short description from what I can see right now so I'll put it in here

"Bibliomaniac takes the reader on a journey across Britain as Robin explores his lifelong love of bookshops and books - and also tries to find out just why he can never have enough of them.

It is the story of an addiction and a romance, and also of an occasional points failure."

This one interested me SO much because it SCREAMS Aziraphale character development sort of thing? You know?

I really struggled to find any spoilers for this one whatsoever but one website did mention the author's love for vintage books, which he only ever reads as and when, as opposed to focusing on just one book.

I just thought this was SO SO SOOOOO interesting, and if anybody has any differing thoughts/interpretations or has even read the books, the comment section is a safe space to do so!!! All theories/suggestions are welcomed (any hate WILL be blocked, don't test me).

OR MAYBE THIS ALL MEANS NOTHING AND IM JUST CLOWNING FAR TOO HARD?!??!??!

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Minecraft

Alien: What is the point of this game? Human: It doesn’t have one; you can do whatever you want. Alien: Can I burn this world and leave nothing but ash? Human: Disturbingly specific but go ahead.

------------

Alien: How do I get wood? Human: Punch some trees. Alien: ……….. Alien: Punch some trees. Human: Yup. Alien: Are you mocking me? Human: What? Alien: Do you think I’m some sort of joke? Alien: An object of ridicule for your amusement!? Human: Okay, before you over react let me just show you. Alien: *Starts reaching for sword when they see the human literally start punching trees for wood* Alien: Oh. *Puts sword away* My apologies. -------------

Human: Why aren’t you playing? Alien: There is a monster in my home. Human: Is it an ender man? Alien: No. Human: Skeleton? Alien: No. Human: Creeper? Alien: Nope. Human: ………… Human: Zombie? Alien: Thwarp no. Human: *Takes controller and goes inside the house* What could it possibly be- *Sees creature* Human: That is a pig. Alien: It is the stuff of nightmares. Human: What the hell is scary about a pig? Alien: Look into its eyes. Alien: It has no soul; no remorse. ----------------

Alien: What are you making? Human: A doomsday device. Alien: Are you allowed to build that on a public server? Alien: Surely the admins would seek to stop you. Human: They can’t stop it if they can’t find it. Alien: What did you build? Human: I placed a claim block, fifty blocks down, and started a cow farm. Alien: That doesn’t sound so bad. Human: There are currently five hundred cows in a four block pen. Human: I have seen the amount of lag it generates drive men to madness. Alien: You are the worst of your species. ---------------

Alien: How goes it? Human: I’ve created a massive creeper farm. Alien: Dear gods why?!?! Human: I want to see what happens when one of them is hit by lightning. Alien: Why? Human: I heard that it turns them into a super creeper. Alien: Why would you want to make the sentient explosive even deadlier? Human: To leave as a surprise for that griefer who blew up my chicken farm last week. Alien: Ah. ----------------

Alien: What are you building today? Human: A nether portal Alien: Is that the purple doorway thing in front of you? Human: Yup. Alien: What does it do? Human: It’s a portal to this world’s version of hell. Alien: WHAT?! Alien: Is that not dangerous? Human: I mean, I want glow stone for my city; and the only place to get glow stone is in the nether. Alien: I weep for this world that has you as its caretaker.   ---------------

Alien: Why is all the sand from my beach gone? Human: Needed it. Alien: For what? Human: Copious amounts of TNT. Alien: Do I even want to know why? Human: Remember that village that I defended only for the golem to attack me? Alien: Yeah. Human: Good. Human: Because that memory of yours is all that is left of it. -----------

*stumbling down extensive mine network to find human friend deep underground.* Alien: You ever coming topside again? Alien: I just found these things called “Pandas” and they are adorable. Human: Not until I find a diamond. Alien: Oh gods, here we go again. Human: There’s only fucking copper down here! Human: What the hell can I even use for copper!?! Alien: I think you can make lightning rods out of them. Human: Oh yeah, sure, lightning rods. Human: I’m sure those will be useful SIXTY BLOCKS UNDERGROUND!!!! ------------

Human: What’s this? Alien: I’ve created an elaborate rail system that will allow me to transfer the citizens of one village to another village to make it a super village! Human: Isn’t that considered kidnapping and human trafficking? Alien: ……….. -------------

Alien: I have created these five iron golems to protect my home. Alien: Nothing shall destroy it while I am away! *Alien leaves into mines* *Returns after an hour of mining to find the entire home destroyed by creepers* Alien: What the flarp! Alien: Where are my go- *Turns to see all five golems distracted by some flowers* -------------

Alien: Something just occurred to me. Human: What’s that? Alien: If you can use the portal to this nether, why can’t things down there use it to escape? Human: Pfft. Human: That’s impossible. Alien: Is it? Human: *Dramatic pause before sprinting over to portal with alien behind him* *Both arrive to find legion of pigmen pouring out from the portal* Alien: Congratulations, you created the end times. Alien: I hope that glow stone was worth it. Human: *draws sword* It really was.

[kindaasrikal]

I like to think that sometimes the ninja have elemental accidents that makes them deal with the wrath of Wu. I also like to think that sometimes those accidents actually help them.

Kai: starts to uncontrollably shoot fire from his mouth, and in a mission where they need to light a bunch of pedestals near the same time, it really comes in handy.

Zane: can’t help but freeze things each time he touches it, and in summer best believe everyone is clinging onto him for that refreshing ice to cover their skin.

Nya: When tied up and captured with the release button behind her, Nya is awfully thankful that for the past week her hair has been incredibly heavy with water and will not dry, since now its heavy enough for her smack the button with.

Cole: keeps making rocks float in the air, and has found a new past time making them spin around someone’s head each time they get a concussion. He likes shaping them into dumb stuff too. He also specifically does it around villains, so when they realise them in their confusion he can throw the floating rocks directly at their foreheads.

Jay: becoming a lightning rod is one thing, Jay being really worried as he shakes Lloyd who is slowly dying before accidentally electrocuting him, getting yelled at for doing it, only for Lloyd to shoot up and start breathing again is another.

Lloyd: When Lloyd can’t stop glowing green, he becomes an oversized flashlight when they have to go on a mission in a deep, dark cave. Lloyd is terrified like a lil baby since he has to lead and keeps screeching each time any noise is made. No Lloyd that wasn’t your father it was a rat.

Bonus+

Wu: once kept creating things out of his hands and couldn’t stop. Mystake and the Fsm loved it since he kept making tea cups out of his hands. Mystake swears that that was the first time she had gotten so much business.

Garmadon: kept shooting destruction beams out of his hands when he was younger and would have to keep his hands as fists so the Fsm wouldn’t realise. After being sent on an errand to the town they regularly visit, he accidentally opens his hand and shoots a beam at a house. Instead of getting yelled at by the people surrounding it, the people with yellow hats turned out to be construction workers who were tasked to break down the house for a new one to be built. They were literally just complaining about how long it would take when Garmadon shot it down to dust. The Fsm got ten letters the next day asking for Garmadon’s help.

Morro: once saw someone struggling to breath and panicked, cover their mouth, and after the the past week of accidentally making the wind stronger or weaker where the training grounds was destroyed multiple times and Wu had to tie everything floatable down, Morro accidentally became an oxygen mask as he pushed and pulled the air from the person periodically. After the person began to breathe properly again, Morro burst into tears because he thought they were struggling to breathe because of him. Wu had to sit him down and explain exactly what had happened. Now, in the present, Morro likes to make people shut up by taking away their breath for a second.

Euphrasia: once couldn’t stop making everything float before she got dragged into helping people move stuff around since she made it easier. She keeps having old grandmas asking her to carry stuff around and help renovate homes. She’s gotten sick of hearing ‘a little to the left- ohhh no more to the right!’.

Sora: kept accidentally breaking things and once broke some rich guys toaster. She then proceeded to try fix it only for her powers to go haywire and make a toaster deluxe 5000 when it can fry, grill, and toast bread to perfection with added on butter. She had to block the guy five times after he kept asking for her fix his microwave.

Wyldfyre: she became super sweaty after over using her element only for Kai to realise that the only reason his fire was able to make the bottle he was holding blow up was because it was coated in sweat from Wyldfyre’s hand. They tested it out and whilst Wyldfyre’s flames and normal ones can’t make it blow (if her flames did she’d be blowing up 24/7 and normal flames aren’t strong enough), Kai is perfectly capable of making her sweat into bombs. Ghost Wu is not amused when he sees his monastery on fire.

Pixal and Arin begin to not only be sick of all the elemental accidents, but also appreciate them for their usefulness, since Arin likes to use Kai’s flaming mouth to help bake pies.

[electric-guillotines]

In The Wake of Fire - Pt.3

"The Woman in White"

WandaNat x F!OC Summary: Natasha and Steve talk to Fury about their walking lightning rod, and an FBI Agent comes forward with information that will shed light on the Boston event, revealing the existence of a secret society and it's mysterious leader...

Content: Hospital setting but nothing in detail Words: 5 ,994

Can also be read over on [Ao3]

Taglist: @bishovapls @queen-of-chaotic-surprises @natashasmuse

<<Start | <Back || Index || Forward> | End>>

Boston, MA 11:40 pm Massachusetts General Hospital

While most of the seriously wounded were sent south many still ended up at Mass General and space was a premium, but by some miracle, the hospital was able to find a secluded room for MacGrath, keeping her separated from the other patients that came and went in a constant flow of bodies, shaken and trembling from the shock of it all, eyes too wide in a vain attempt to process the day.

The constant shuffle left the hallway floors smeared in ash and dust, the janitorial staff working as hard as they could to keep it manageable. Eventually they started having people shake themselves off before they entered.

The doctors made short work of examining MacGrath once she was taken in. No broken bones and no internal damage, the burns on her skin were already healing faster than they had any right to. Pupillary reflex was normal except for the fact that her pupils contracted into vertical slits. Aside from that, they were confident MacGrath didn't have a concussion which was just as well—no one was particularly eager to test if it was even safe to run a CT scan on her let alone an MRI.

“Her vitals are improving every moment but her body is exhausted. Based on what you've told us that's to be expected. I don't need to tell you that we aren't equipped for someone like this so the sooner you can take her off our hands the better.”

For all her training and discipline, Natasha couldn't force herself to relax as the steady sound of a heart monitor reminded her where she was with every beat. Medical settings were a minefield at the best of times and unless she was the one being treated, Wanda knew better than to bring it up, not questioning the decision to go with MacGrath and force Natasha to second-guess what she was doing.

She was a Widow, an Avenger, she could handle being inside a hospital as long as none of the doctors came near her, but she couldn't say that bringing Steve along wasn't something of a fail-safe.

Sitting in the corner chairs across from MacGrath's bed, they quietly searched through a bag of personal belongings one of the nurses brought through.

Most of the items were burnt and tattered. The phone was completely fried, a little metal charm hanging off the corner in the shape of a death's head moth.

A plain black leather wallet seemed to have survived with minimal damage but the cards inside were similarly fried beyond use. Shuffling through them, Natasha noted a couple of bank cards, a library card, and what might have once been a driver's license if it wasn't a melted mess.

The top of a white and blue card caught her eye, tucked into the deepest recess of the wallet behind everything else.

“Anything?” asked Steve, having no luck with the clothes. He folded them neatly into a pile, ignoring that they were almost certainly bound for the trash in such a state and treating them with respect solely because they were still someone's things.

Carefully plucking the card free, Natasha blinked at what she saw.

“Huh, clever girl,” she murmured, holding it up for him.

The card carried similar damage, most of MacGrath's name burned out along with half of her face in the tiny portrait, but what stood out the most were the words printed along the top; 'Massachusetts Institute of Technology,' with faint block letters spelling out 'STUDENT' behind it.

Steve frowned.

Settling back in his chair, he turned his focus to MacGrath, crossing his arms. “How does a student end up in a situation like this?”

She sighed, folding her legs up into her seat, partially to annoy him and partially because it helped her feel more secure. “Definitely not on purpose, this didn't turn out well for her if it was.”

They fell into an uneasy silence, heavy with questions yet to be asked, suspicions festering as they watched the girl sleep.

The nurses had cleaned her up, wiping away the ash and dressing her in a hospital gown without the 'static' issue the EMTs noted.

Natasha's gaze flicked to MacGrath's hands—they hadn't sparked since arriving at the hospital.

She wondered how long that would last.

A knock on the door made them both jump to their feet.

“Evening,” said Fury as he entered, softly closing the door behind him.

Natasha relaxed, trying not to show the tiredness she felt creeping in at the edges. She could have been comfortable snuggled in bed right now but the world's evil rarely waited for convenience.

She stepped aside to let him move deeper into the room. “Nice mess you called us in for, Nick,” she said drily.

Fury threw her a look somewhere between exasperation and understanding. “You know I wouldn't have called for anything less.”

She moved to stand next to him at the girl's bedside, crossing her arms. “Yeah,” she conceded, “doesn't get any easier to look at.”

He glanced between her and Steve. “You all did good work today,” he said firmly. “Your priority going forward will be dealing with the culprits behind this attack, anything else will be delegated through SHIELD. But we can save the full debrief for tomorrow.”

He motioned towards MacGrath. “Tell me about her.”

Steve nodded, hands behind his back. “Name is Kassidy MacGrath. We found her alive at ground zero with lightning erupting from her body. Witness reports said she was holding an unknown device just before the blast. It started glowing and when she couldn't drop it we're told she started screaming at people to get away from her because she had a bomb.”

Fury narrowed his eye. “She couldn't drop it?” he echoed.

Steve gestured politely at her and Natasha answered, “that's what the witness said. He described her bracing her foot against the object hard enough to hurt herself, like it was locked onto her hands.”

“Looks can be deceiving. I'll admit the warning is odd, unless she really was in on this and got cold feet.”

“Maybe, but we won't know anything until she wakes up, and she'll be better off in our hands than here.”

Another knock at the door had them all tense, watching as the door was opened by a tall middle-aged woman in a sharp suit. She had stern, hawkish features and quick eyes, coldly flicking across everyone in the room before landing on Natasha like lasers.

This woman was military, Natasha could tell that much, if not active then an ex-service member probably working for the government. She also knew, immediately, that this woman did not like her.

Fury raised an eyebrow at the intrusion, hand resting comfortably on his hip close to a concealed weapon. “Can we help you?” he asked shortly.

“Yes, and I can help you return, Director Fury,” she said, her voice brusque and to the point with a distinct Tennessee accent.

She calmly closed the door behind her, facing them in a loose parade rest. “I am FBI Agent Mercy Cord and I have been tracking the group responsible for this atrocity for years.”

Fury stepped closer. “If you've been tracking them for so long then why did this happen, Agent Cord?” he asked, scrutinising her from head to toe.

Mercy's jaw flexed. “Because my superiors did not believe them to be threat worth chasing,” she nearly growled, frustration bleeding through. “My concern with them has always been brushed off because they stay under the radar when it comes to American interests.”

She took a steadying breath, something bitter crossing her face. “Besides,” she said, her eyes flicking to Natasha with that laser focus again, “we've all had our hands full chasing snakes in the grass, haven't we?”

Natasha shared a look with Steve.

The ramifications of their renewed fight with Hydra were still being felt even years later, it had shaken US institutions to their core and shattered public perception.

If not for Peggy Carter’s foresight and her refusal to allow in anyone brought over by Operation Paperclip, SHIELD would have been compromised to the point of destruction. As it was, SHIELD was able to do something that left much of the federal apparatus feeling more than a little humiliated; saving it from itself.

With a cold smile, Natasha simply said, “pozhaluysta (you are welcome.)”

Mercy’s glare could have cracked steel but she quickly returned focus to Fury. “Director, I have information you and the Avengers will need going forward,” she said, “but I would much rather discuss the details in a more secure location. I’m sure you understand.”

Nodding slowly, Fury slipped his hand into his coat, relaxing. He met Natasha’s eye and said, “get in touch with Stark and figure out where we need to be.”

At her nod, he turned to face Mercy. “Agent, walk with me.”

Once they left the room, Steve tilted his head. “Do you know her?”

Natasha chuckled. “No.”

At the confused look on Steve’s face, she took pity enough to explain. “I don’t need telepathy to hear someone calling me a ‘fucking Russki’ in their head. She’s FBI, it’s gonna ruffle her feathers that a Russian helped save her country.”

Steve’s face darkened and Natasha waved him off, focusing on the girl. “Put that away,” she said lightly, “you don’t do angry and brooding, that’s Bucky’s job.”

His expression softened. “I can when my friends are disrespected,” he said, low and sincere.

She couldn’t help the small, genuine smile that turned her lips. “Hey, she didn’t say it.”

“No. But you didn’t have to use Russian.”

“It’s funnier that way.”

He snorted, running a hand over his face, and Natasha grinned, pleased with herself for cracking his seriousness, just a little.

People taking issue with her history was nothing new to her and it would never particularly bother her, nothing anyone could say would ever come close to what she said to herself, not when she was her own harshest critic.

For better and often worse, Natasha knew exactly what she’d done throughout her life. Every sordid, murky, awful little detail, and all she could do was try to make up for it, even if those scales would never balance out, even if so much of it was done under duress, under conditioning, brainwashing, with a million little blades correcting her posture, behaviour, ways of thinking, pushing her to be a perfect, unfeeling weapon.

She wasn’t.

She never had been.

But Widows were very good at pretending to be exactly that, wearing a mask was second-nature, etched into their bones. Even now being sincere and vulnerable wasn’t easy, she hated how exposed it made her feel as if she were showing someone exactly where to stab her, but caring about others was nice, and so was being cared about, so she kept trying.

Her thoughts drifted to Wanda and Natasha’s grin softened into something hopelessly tender, something Steve noticed immediately.

He snapped his fingers, breaking her train of thought. “Okay, you can have girlfriend time later, Romanoff,” he teased. “We still have a job to do.”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Oh please, like you aren’t going to face-time Bucky as soon as we’re home.”

Steve opened his mouth only to promptly close it, a faint blush creeping up his face.

She smirked, “exactly.”

Sobriety set in quickly, however, as their attention returned to MacGrath. The girl remained asleep, the burns on her skin growing fainter by the minute.

Natasha sighed, opening the team comms. “Tony. Are you still at the crater?”

“Nope! Samples collected, Banner and I are getting them secured for transport. What’s up?”

“MacGrath is stable but you saw what she was capable of. She can’t stay in the hospital, it’s too much of a risk. Not to mention, we just got a visit from an FBI Agent who claimed she had intel on the people responsible. Fury is talking to her right now but considering this was years of work for her I doubt she’ll just hand us the intel and step back.”

There was a pause, and Tony grumbled something unintelligible. “So, the kid needs to be somewhere secure and FBI proof, got it. Alright, Tower it is. Easier to keep an eye on them both.”

Once it was organised, Steve went with the transport carrying MacGrath and Natasha returned to the rallying point, only to be redirected to the jet. Most of the team was ready to leave, only some would stay behind to continue monitoring the crater and help recovery efforts.

Climbing the boarding ramp, Natasha gave the city one last look, her breath misting in the chilly evening air.

The streets weren’t as quiet as they should be at such a late hour, with recovery teams broken into day and night shifts the area would see activity day and night as crews worked to uncover bodies, clear rubble, and begin the slow process of rebuilding.

They had done what they could.

If she repeated it enough times perhaps the leaden feeling in her bones would fade.

Trying to exhale the weight, Natasha entered the cabin proper and closed the ramp behind her.

Sam was sitting in the cockpit with Clint, talking quietly, and Tony was out cold in one of the small bunks built into the cabin walls, his suit standing nearby like a guard dog.

Wanda was in one of the chairs, clearly trying not to fall asleep despite the way her head dipped only for her to jolt.

Natasha smiled, silently approaching her. “That doesn’t look like rest to me,” she said lightly.

Green eyes darted up at that and Wanda immediately grabbed her by the shoulder harness, pulling her down into the seat until Natasha had no choice but to sit in Wanda’s lap, held against her body like a cherished teddy bear.

Despite the heat creeping up her neck, Natasha relaxed enough to settle in a more comfortable position, dropping her head to Wanda’s shoulder. “Yeah,” she murmured, finally allowing the exhaustion into her voice, “I’m ready to go home too, lyubimaya (beloved.)”

---

Manhattan, NY 9:12am Avengers Tower

That it was only a mild headache that greeted her in the morning was as much a surprise to Wanda as it was a mercy. She knew she had overdone it by marching into the crater like that, and it would have been worse if not for the energy gel.

The thought of getting up made her groan and pull the duvet over her head.

“You and I both need food after yesterday,” Natasha grumbled from behind.

Wanda smiled despite the throbbing of her temples, enjoying the way Natasha’s Rs curled, grogginess sending her typically flawless American accent into complete disarray.

She dropped a hand down to the arm around her waist, stroking the smooth, warm skin of Natasha’s forearm.

“Can we not stay here for another hour at least?” she muttered.

As if to spite her, FRIDAY’s voice intruded from above.

“Attention, all Avengers are to report to the conference room by 10am for an official debrief. Repeat, all Avengers are to report to the conference room by 10am for an official debrief.”

Natasha’s arm tightened around her waist and Wanda grumbled a few choice words under her breath.

Apologetically, FRIDAY added, “sorry, ladies. Everyone else is awake already.”

With a squeeze of her hip, Natasha easily slid out of the bed and began stretching. She was almost always the morning person and she had probably been awake for a while, dozing on and off until Wanda showed signs of stirring.

Sighing, Wanda got up and began their routine.

They made the bed, showered, and dressed, moving around each other easily, the space between them familiar and comfortable, filled with playful touches and innocent kisses, avoiding anything more involved because they knew they couldn’t waste time getting distracted. Still, Wanda stole all the warmth and light that she could before the seriousness of the debrief, enjoying the coy little curl to Natasha’s lips every time she felt Wanda’s hand on the small of her back or shoulder. The press of lips to her temple or brow made her eyes sparkle in a way no one else got to see and Wanda cherished it like a delicate secret, holding it close to her heart.

Soon enough, they made their way up to the main floor, finding the rest of the team gathered in the kitchen.

Clint and Sam sat the island with coffee, Steve was cooking what smelled like a breakfast scramble in a large skillet, and Tony was foraging for something between the double doors of the fridge.

“Our sleeping beauties!” announced Clint, smiling over a cup of coffee. “You’re finally awake.”

“Weren’t you the last one awake before them?” asked Sam, nudging his shoulder with a smirk.

Clint shrugged. “Yeah but I wasn’t the last.”

Natasha smirked, leaning on the island. “I know you have a sleep mask, Barton,” she said, “it’s very pretty.”

Clint flushed a little, muttering into his coffee, “it’s Laura’s, the silk feels nice.”

Warm laughter bubbled around the room, brightening the morning mood.

The skyline outside was murky and grey, the streets twinkling faintly with car lights as a thick swaddling fog and watery clouds hid the sun from view.

“Recovery drinks, ladies,” said Tony, pulling a tray of ready made smoothies from the fridge. Two cups of the dark green liquid remained, the rest already downed by their teammates.

Breakfast passed quickly, the chatter light and easy until it was time to head to the conference room.

Steve introduced them to FBI Agent Mercy Cord as they filed in, already waiting for them at the head of the table with a stack of folders marked‘Avengers Eyes Only.’

A cursory pass at Agent Cord’s surface thoughts gave away very little and Wanda suppressed a frown, remaining outwardly neutral as she took in everything she could about this new Agent. She remembered Natasha mentioning the encounter at the hospital, but both of them had been so tired that she only recalled the name.

Agent Cord was stark and taut, her posture precise, every movement exacting, and her grey eyes flicked to each member of the team around the table with calculated chill. The only difference came when she looked at Natasha, a flex of the jaw, a twitch of the brows as if she wanted to scowl, then nothing, her face smoothed back into icy indifference. Yet, even then, nothing rose to the surface of her mind–Cord had an iron grip on everything so unless Wanda wanted to immediately alert the Agent to her surveillance, she would have to wait until something slipped.

Wanda narrowed her eyes, filing the observation away for later.

With everyone settled at the table, they contacted Fury via video call.

“Good morning,” he said evenly, “I trust you all managed to get some sleep.”

They each went over everything that happened, detailing the bodies discovered, the people they talked to, samples taken, evidence found, everything that would go into their official written reports later.

Agent Cord remained silent and Fury listened with intense attention to detail as usual, a trait of his that Wanda had slowly gotten used to. It used to feel as if he was trying to catch her out on something, find where she went wrong and prove why she didn’t belong here after all, now she understood it for what it was, simple professional zeal and more than a little dash of Fury’s desire to keep the Avengers safe and functioning. He needed to know everything down to the last detail if SHIELD wanted to stay ahead of any untoward activity against them.

It was an unfortunate truth that many people in power felt threatened by a group such as theirs, even if they had no interest in overthrowing governments and sending entire countries into chaos. Wanda certainly had no desire to inflict that, a nation’s fate should be its own without external interference, that was the point of accepting Hydra's honeyed poison, before she knew the truth.

No, the Avengers were meant to keep innocent people safe, even if that meant embarrassing government officials. They wouldn’t always succeed, they would make mistakes, but they would always try to do better, and Fury knew that.

With each of their accounts covered, Fury moved on to the next topic of discussion. “As you might expect, the clean-up is projected to take months. SHIELD has locked down access to the crater and its immediate surroundings for study, moving forward those teams will be in constant contact with Stark and Banner.”

Tony leaned back in his chair, arms folded. “Make sure your people aren’t hanging around down there,” he said, frustration creeping into his tone, “I don’t know what effect that energy has on the body long-term, if any.”

Fury nodded. “They’re treating it like a radiological hazard.”

He glanced to the side, tapping in a few commands on a console. “We found plenty of information about your guest, and she was a student at MIT, three years ago. She never finished.”

A file came up on their tablets;

Subject - Kassidy Quinn MacGrath

The file came with pictures from different points in the girl's life, some taken from group pictures, others from school yearbooks, and a few were candid shots where Kassidy seemed unaware she was in the picture, focused on a book or science project.

She had pale olive-tone skin, straight black hair, blue eyes, and wore a crooked half-smile when aware of the camera. A sharp jawline and strong nose paired with soft and subtle features made her a rather distinct and pretty young woman, and it clashed violently with the terrified girl Wanda saw yesterday.

None of the pictures showed her piercings, however, nor the current style of her hair, a wolf cut. The pictures showed an otherwise plain girl dressed in conservatively feminine clothing, not a single sign of rebellion.

Fury spoke as they moved to the first real page of the folder. “Kassidy MacGrath, twenty-five years of age. She was born in Northern Ireland to parents Silvia Jäger and Ronan MacGrath and has a twenty-one year old brother, Arthur. The family moved to Boston here in the states when MacGrath was nine and her father began working with a private security firm called Vanguard Security Services.”

Wanda lingered on a family picture, connecting the names to faces. The picture showed everyone in their Sunday best, primly posed and smiling for the camera. Kassidy clearly took after her mother, only sharing her eye colour with Ronan who sported short, sandy blonde hair and stern, gruff features that struggled to carry warmth.

Something about the picture didn’t sit right with Wanda and it took her a moment to hone in on what was bothering her. After all, it was a normal picture. Ronan and Silvia stood in the middle, Silvia's gloved hands resting on the shoulders of Arthur, standing in front of her wearing a navy suit like his father—the boy looked no older than 13. But then there was Kassidy, standing to her mother's right, wearing a modest green dress to match her mother, her eyes completely untouched by the smile on her face.

Another observation to file away for later.

She returned her attention to Fury’s voice. “By all accounts, she was a model student. Kept out of trouble at every turn, maintained a perfect GPA and went on to study physics at MIT with her sights set on theoretical and experimental physics.”

Steve sent Natasha a look of acknowledgement, getting a nod in return.

Tony leaned on the table, flicking through the document. “Disciplined, intelligent, and not afraid of a challenge,” he said flatly, brow furrowing. “What happened?”

“Two and half years into her studies, MacGrath dropped out and started working as a bike courier. No information on why, professors said she was doing great.”

“What about her parents?”

A flicker of something dark crossed Fury’s face. “We attempted to contact them but all they had to tell us was how much of a disgrace to the family she was before hanging up. They refuse to cooperate with us.”

Sam looked up from his tablet. “There’s a story there,” he said carefully, “any sign its connected to what happened yesterday?”

Fury sighed. “That’s the thing. She hasn’t missed a day of work in three years. There isn’t so much as a mark on her driver’s license. Her digital footprint is clean. She has two friends that we know of and doesn’t step out of line. There’s nothing to indicate she was an active participant.”

Clint spoke up, “good kids only run if you give them a reason.” His voice was quiet and hard, contemplative, like a thought that escaped containment.

No one spoke, weighed down by the implication of his statement.

A sick feeling coiled in Wanda’s stomach and she looked at the family picture again, the same discomfort nagging at her with greater insistence.

It wasn’t just the surliness of a teenager who didn’t want to be there.

Fury broke the uncomfortable silence. “Well, there’s more information in the file for you to review. For now, Kassidy MacGrath is under the care of Dr Cho and her team in the Tower. Consider her in protective custody until we can determine the danger of this situation.”

He looked at Mercy. “Now, I believe Agent Cord has information to share with you.”

“Thank you, Director Fury,” Cord said politely.

She moved with practised efficiency, handing out physical folders to each of them until she stood at the head of the table again where she typed commands into the projector interface. “Now, as I told Captain Rogers and Agent Romanoff yesterday, I have been tracking the group responsible for yesterday’s atrocity for years.”

A holographic projection showed them a symbol of scissors cutting through a rope arranged to represent infinity. The scissors weren’t of a modern design, but ancient, more like shears one would see on Greek pottery.

Agent Cord continued. “They’re known as the Severed Society. They were founded in the late 1800s, a secret society of mentalists and occultists, but since the end of World War 2 their focus shifted to experimental sciences and their numbers exploded. They are well funded, well connected, and have operated quietly for decades. Their business in the United States is in pharmaceuticals and the like, for which they use fronts to avoid being connected. Unfortunately for them, they caught my attention.”

Several images came up showing groups of men and women in distinctive dark blue and white combat uniforms, faces covered. Their gear looked custom made rather than surplus, and they were kitted out with enough weaponry for a small army. On the pale chest-plate of each uniform the same symbol of the rope and shears was emblazoned in black.

Cord went on to explain how the Severed Society operated outside the US, engaging in wet work, kidnapping, trafficking, assassinations, and torture, just to name a few. Whatever built them connections, drew in more money and resources for their research projects, they did it with zero remorse or hesitation.

Tony interjected, “what were they researching?”

She paused, lips pursing. “The Shroud.”

At Tony's frown, Agent Cord continued. “There was a scientist in the 80s by the name of Christopher Ray. He believed the neuro-electricity of all sapient beings carried a certain power to it, ‘cardinal’ energy he called it. The Shroud is a dimension where that energy gathers, concentrating in the same places people are like galactic filaments concentrate matter throughout the cosmos.

I wouldn’t have believed it until yesterday. I believed the Severed Society to be dangerous, that they were working towards something big in their mad quest for this thought dimension.”

Cord frowned deeply, ruminating.

Tapping the console, she brought up the holographic projection of an octahedron and what looked to be vastly simplified schematics of its inner workings. A metal casing surrounding complex electronics and crystalline shielding, built around a glowing core of unidentified material.

Tony leaned forward, eyes fixed on the image, taking in every detail he could.

Agent Cord crossed her arms. “This is their crown jewel; the Cardinal Matrix. A tool designed to drain the neuro-electric energy from everyone nearby and concentrate it into an individual. This transfer briefly inundates the surrounding area with cardinal energy, like a little piece of the Shroud bled through. Considering Miss MacGrath was doing her best impression of a lighting rod yesterday, I’d say it worked.”

The phrasing grated and Wanda shifted in her seat, keeping her eyes firmly on the documents showing clearer pictures of the Cardinal Matrix. The holographic display didn’t quite capture the strange wave-like pattern on the metal.

She noticed Natasha looking in her periphery and lightly nudged their boots together, a silent signal that she was fine.

Wordlessly, Natasha returned her attention to Cord.

Steve asked, “who leads them?”

Everyone looked at Agent Cord then, and she brought up new images. Pictures taken from near and afar, footage from what appeared to be body cameras, all showing a figure draped in white.

With a sense of reluctance, Cord admitted, “I don’t know as much as I’d like, but they call her Damocles.”

The woman wore white from head to toe, with a military coat and a tight hood pulled over her head, her face hidden by a snarling metal mask reminiscent of a tiger. Its mouth was full of shining coppery teeth, and the eyes glowed blue, frigid and unfeeling. Metal armour reinforced the legs and her hands were encased in clawed gauntlets.

In the body cam footage she moved with an eerie calm in what seemed to be the aftermath of a fight, smoke wafting through the air around her as she approached the camera. Whoever wore it appeared to already be dead, sprawled on the floor of some old factory judging by the industrial environment.

Damocles crouched over the body, inspecting it, before a digitised voice addressed her by name. She stood up, peering at the body for a moment longer before she lifted her boot and crushed the camera.

Agent Cord’s mouth twisted. “Aside from her name, I know that she has two direct underlings who go by Wraith and Imperatus, and all three of them are enhanced. Damocles is fast, strong, and hard to hurt. Imperatus has telekinetic powers, and Wraith…” she trailed off, sighing. “I don’t know what she can do, specifically. All I’ve been able to gather is that she's a nightmare that Damocles releases on the Society’s enemies. Imperatus is more reserved, a real right hand rather than an attack dog.”

Natasha spoke up, asking a question that had been quietly rattling around everyone’s heads. “How haven’t we noticed these guys before?”

It was less a direct question for Agent Cord and more of an escaped thought, like Clint’s observation, and it was perfectly reasonable. For a group with so much dedication, resources, and history, the fact that none of them had ever heard of them before this attack was alarming.

However, Cord just nodded in understanding. “You begin to see why I fought with my superiors,” she said shortly. “Nothing the Society did threatened American interests, it was always either above board or off in some war torn backwater they could pretend didn’t matter. But weeds grow out of control where you don’t look, we already had to learn that lesson the hard way with Hydra. I did not want to see it happen again with the Severed Society.”

She sighed, hands resting on her hips. “Now thousands of American citizens are dead and suddenly they’re all ears,” she sneered, “would’ve spat in their faces if I didn’t have a duty to fulfil.”

Steve stood up from his chair, leaning on the table as he levelled a serious look at Cord. “Well, this Severed Society has our attention, and I promise we will do everything in our power to bring Damocles down.”

Cord stared at him for a moment, scrutinising his expression as if expecting to find a hint of deception, something that told her his words were nothing but hot air, just trying to appease her concerns like her superiors did. When she didn’t find what she was looking for, her shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. “Thank you, Captain.”

Looking at the rest of the team, she offered a very rusty yet polite smile. “I look forward to working with you all.”

Fury closed out the meeting, reminding them all to study the files and log their reports.

Tony disappeared to the lab while Clint showed Agent Cord to the guest quarters, and Natasha split off to get ahead on filing her report. Steve and Sam stayed behind to read and continue talking.

Wanda, however, took the lift up to medical. She needed to see for herself, to settle the mental image of a terrified, broken girl pulled from the wreckage of a devastated city.

The medical bay always struck her as too alienating so she tried not to end up there if she could help it. It was cold and clinical, tinged by the faint smell of bleach that never failed to remind her of Hydra’s frigid hospitality. At least the smell of blood didn’t hang in the air too.

She found Dr Cho in her office, and Helen immediately understood, showing her where they were keeping Kassidy.

The medical bay had one operating theatre, a small ward fitted to hold an entire team of battered Avengers, and an intensive care unit that could double as a secure holding cell should they find themselves in exactly this position, with someone hurt and potentially dangerous on their hands. The room had reinforced walls, a security door, and the observation window could withstand anti-tank rounds, so containing a little lightning should be easy enough.

Surrounded by all manner of machinery to keep track of her vital signs, Kassidy remained peacefully asleep, the burns from yesterday completely gone.

Something loosened in Wanda’s chest at the sight, and she took a breath, slowly releasing it as if she could exhale her anxiety with it.

“She’s very strong,” Helen said. “There’s nothing medically wrong to cause this comatose state, her body has simply gone through an intensely traumatic transformation and needs time to adjust. ”

“The burns–was that you, or?”

“No, whatever happened to her in that crater seems to have accelerated her natural healing. I’m unsure to what extent, but I’d much rather save any tests for when she’s awake and I can discuss them with her. For now, she needs rest, her body will wake when it’s ready.”

Wanda nodded, thanking Helen and allowing her to return to her work.

Standing outside the observation window a while longer, Wanda tried to put the pieces together in her head, the uncomfortable family portrait, dropping out of university, falling into a mess like this, and the terror, the sheer, primal fear she felt in that crater.

She nearly jumped when Steve’s voice greeted her. “Hey.”

Wanda shook the disparate thoughts from her head and smiled, though it felt forced. “Hello, Steve.”

He came to stand beside her, watching Kassidy rest with that furrow to his brow when he was trying to figure out the best way to protect someone. “Didn’t get a chance on the way back,” he started, his voice steady and gentle, “I just wanted to check on you, see how you were doing after a mission like that.”

She let her eyes drop to the floor, sitting with the weight of his words, the care behind them. When he first started to do that, her response had been to clam up, to lift her walls as high as they could go and pretend to be fine, assure him she wasn’t going to be a problem, she wouldn’t be a burden. But over time, Steve began to see through it, began to carefully chip at her defences until she started being honest with him, and he would look at her without judgement, simply listening.

He had the makings of a wonderful older brother.

The thought still stung, warm though it was.

Sighing, Wanda sent him a sad smile. “It’s always going to remind me,” she whispered, simple and to the point.

Steve turned to face her and held out his arms in a silent offer.

Another thing she had gotten used to, and something Wanda accepted gratefully, allowing Steve to wrap her up in a big bear hug that ever so gently squeezed the air out of her lungs.

He let her go, smiling. “Want to go for a run?”

She groaned, shoving him away with no real strength behind it. “You will kill me, Rogers.”

He grinned, offering a bent arm like a gentleman. “I promise I won’t run you ragged. But it’ll do us both good.”

With a dramatic sigh, she linked arms with him as he started walking them to the lifts. “If I drop you can explain yourself to Natasha.”

He chuckled warmly.

---

Please enjoy some visual aids regarding Damocles ✨

<<Start | <Back || Index || Forward> | End>>

[eezforme]

Marowak ability forms. Late to the trend but dahmit if it didn't look like a fun prompt to visit when the block hits

Gave a lil manectric vibe for lightning rod and a bone that could work as a "wand" for ets special attack boosts. My fav was doin the rockhead roughness. Kinda thought maybe rockhead should be hunched on all fours instead cuz I always forget Marowak is like a dog dino but I like how et turned out

Courtesy of @n0rtist

[ceiling-karasu]

New Chapter of The Rod that Blocks the Lightning

Summary: As Geumsaegi’s time in the Porasu Outpost comes to a finale, the enemy scouts push for one final crescendo.

[agent-calivide]

I'm tired. Call this a rant or a vent post, but I'm so tired.

I'm not going to call anyone in specific out, but please for the love of god if you hate a character, STOP putting hate in their character tag. More specifically, if you hate people for how they choose to like a character, please, block and move on.

Yes there is a disproportionate amount of fan content for John Juniper, no it's not just basic white boy syndrome, he was the only one with a character model that showed up for more than five seconds and had an actual appearance for literally years. Positive association is a thing. Yes, you can hate him, that's normal and to be expected, dare I say most John Juniper fans do. No, most of the fandom doesn't actually think he's coming back, it's a running joke/issue based on how Schell handled their own lore that was founded before IEYTD 3 when Schell was acting coy about his status only to rip the rug out from under us with an obituary out of nowhere. No, you don't have to like the fanfics or fanart of Phoenix or Handler with Juniper romantically, but if you don't like it please block, scroll, or- I don't know- take a screenshot and talk shit with your buddies in private or something. Complaining about how a small section of the fandom posts frequently rather than putting in the energy to post more of what you like wastes your time and hurts people who are, god forbid, having fun.

And, frankly, it's not even about Juniper at this point. It's so disheartening to CONSTANTLY see "hot take, I actually HATE the way you engage with this fandom. You should make more things that are closer to MY interests." You know how much it sucks to see people say you're liking your media the wrong way when you aren't doing anything harmful?

First, it was that I wasn't making Phoenix "right" because I made them more effeminate and had them use she/her pronouns in my personal fanfics and fanart. Then, it was that Juniper was so gay he'd NEVER like a woman, and that women were just innately revolting, so shipping him and my Phoenix was gross and wrong. Then, it was why are fem!phoenix's so popular, they're nonbinary, stop assigning them a gender when there were like five fem!phoenixes total. Then, FINALLY, people chilled out and were tolerant of the fem!phoenix and mellowed out a little, but now it's I don't like the way you write/present John Juniper. If I had a shot every time I saw "hot take, I HATE Juniper, I don't get why the fandom likes him." I'd be dead. It's not really a hot take, it's the one I see all the time, but rather than investing that energy into making something new this fandom would rather just take pot shots at the consistent creatives rather than make something themselves.

I feel like a lightning rod of hate, but I don't remember asking for it. And I know a good handful of other IEYTD creators feel similar. If you hate Juniper so much, block his tag. Block the creators. Something.

But it's not fair to the people who are passionate about this game to be used as the resident dunk-tank because you don't like their favorite character, or you don't like their writing, or whatever argument of the week you have. We're here to have fun at the end of the day, and I don't see how an ooc self indulgent fic is harmful enough to warrant the way some of the people in this fandom are treated.

[catboybiologist]

its understandable to want to defend yourself on the internet, but by answering these transphobic asks on your main blog, you're just putting transphobic rhetoric on the dashboards of your followers. even if its followed by the most epic clapback imaginable, seeing "you are not a woman" in all caps first thing is gonna cause us anxiety. theyre not sending asks because theyre expecting you to not have a good response, its because they know you're going to put this trash in front of an audience. and youre just gonna get more and more trash the more you post about it.

Look, I fully understand that it only attracts more transphobes. I do it anyways. I'm not "defending myself" it's just a time killer or entertainment, like any other post I spend thirty seconds on. What you see answered is typically a small portion of what I get.

As for putting the stuff on my follower's dashes, yeah I get that, but I hope people at least filter out the "cw transphobia" tag if that's something that's going to affect them. I can tag with additional stuff if people need more precise tags to block, but yeah.

I'm not defending my habit of responding to transphobia, I know it's a bad little indulgence of mine and a holdover from my "debate me" era as a teen. But this is just kinda how I view it.

I probably won't for a long time, and please tell me if you think it has a negative impact on the community as a whole. At the very least, I hope I'm a tiny bit of a "lightning rod" as someone who's a bit more visible, wasting their time and keeping this stuff out of smaller blogs inboxes, but I know that's just sugarcoating a bad habit.

[dracowars]

astraphobia | rafe cameron

pairing: rafe x reader

word count: 1,5k

summary: where y/n is scared of thunder

a/n: my first ever rafe cameron fic, omg!!! i truly hope you like it 🤍 reblogging and feedback is always appreciated!! fun fact, which is more just a fact and not so much fun: i’m indeed scared of thunders & my parents always wanted to watch the lightning with me.. welp, guess i'm traumatized now lmao

warnings: angst, astraphobia

universe: outer banks

An incredibly loud bang rips through your bones, ripples through your entire body and you startle, your eyes widening and your heart racing. It takes a moment before you realize where you are and what you just woke up to. A heavy storm is raging outside and the masses of water falling from the dark sky are pattering against the window panes, breaking through the previous silence.

Trying to calm yourself down, you breathe in and out slowly and evenly, pulling the covers up to your chin even though the hot summer's day temperature has not cooled down in the night at all. You regain control of your body after a few seconds and all your muscles relax again. That is until the room brightly lights up before your eyes and the same loud, if not even louder and deafening than before, bang sounds immediately afterwards.

The thunderstorm must be right above you.

Anxious, you cling to the soft duvet, your body tense from top to bottom, but you do not dare to move a single muscle. Your gaze wanders through the all too familiar room that lies in front of you in the dark. You know you are safe here. After all, you are inside a house, or rather in Tannyhill - in other words: there really is no better place in the entire Outer Banks to be when a severe thunderstorm is raging outside. And even though you also know very well that nothing will happen to you, you can't help but be afraid. Incredibly afraid.

Even as a child you were abnormally afraid of thunderstorms and lightning in general and apparently this fear has only deepened over the years, still accompanying you. Back then, your father always wanted to watch the lightning with you that bathed the sky in such a bright blue light, but you immediately broke into a crying fit that lasted for hours and did not get better. At least it gives you a peace of mind knowing you are not alone in today's storm.

Well, at least not entirely.

A soft snoring sounds - only audible with great effort due to the loud rain - from next to you and knowing that your boyfriend is right beside you, with you, calms you down a bit. Once another bang rings through the room, you slide fully under the heated covers to hide, bumping your legs into Rafe's accidentally, but he does not budge. This thunderstorm does not seem to bother him at all anyway.

Tears well up in your eyes and your body is already shaking slightly while so much fear pours through you, pumping through your veins at the thoughts of what could happen.

What if lightning strikes? And the lightning rod does not work?

Freaking out on the inside, you try to tame your bad thoughts and instead think about something positive, literally anything else than rain or storm or lightning. And when that does not work, you just try to focus on Rafe's regular breathing, blocking out the world around you. At first, this method actually works quite well and your heart rate drops, but unfortunately it only lasts until the next thunder rumbles over your head, the room turning bright as daylight for a few seconds.

This time, your whole body jerks up and you end up covering your ears with your hands, but even that does not calm you down now. More unconsciously than you want to, you cuddle up to your boyfriend, whose body radiates a pleasant warmth as you come closer. Rafe is on his stomach, one of his arms hanging over the edge of the bed while the other, which he used to hold your hand tightly when you fell asleep, is next to your pillow. You snuggle up against him carefully, trying not to wake him, although, deep down, you kind of hope for him to do so.

You know Rafe would want you to wake him up if you were feeling down or needed help. But you swore to yourself you would not wake him. He has had a busy week and once again had to endure a heavy, undeserved lecture from his father today. You spent the whole evening comforting him until he finally fell asleep in your arms, and so did you, although you must have missed the storm warning.

Your panic and fear of thunderstorms suddenly take the initiative without you being able to stop yourself. You need him.

"Rafe", you whisper softly and barely audible as you put your hand on his bare shoulder and shake him lightly. "Babe?"

No reaction and the storm continues to wreak havoc outside.

"Rafe? Babe, please wake up", you almost beg him, on the verge of crying now, and you are about to give up and just get through the night when he suddenly shows signs of stirring. His shoulders tense under your hand as he takes a deep breath until you shake him again. "Please."

Apparently he has finally noticed you and slowly turns to face you, running his hand through his already disheveled hair. He looks at you with tired, half-closed eyes, but you are not sure if he is actually awake.

"Hm? What's wrong, baby?”, comes out of his mouth softly, his voice hoarse and groasy from sleep as he runs his hand over his face, confused. "What time is it?"

"Rafe, I'm scared", you admit, and your words seem to flip a switch inside of him, instantly activating his protective instincts that overlook even his sleepiness.

"What? What's going on?”, he asks you, worried but still not quite sane, his mind still caught in a dream world. He narrows his eyes tightly so that he can even make you - or rather your outline - out in the dark room in front of him. Before you can explain why you woke him up in the dead of night, however, your entire body gives a violent start again as a loud rumble of thunder resounds directly overhead. After that, it does not take words for Rafe to understand what is going on.

"Are you serious?", Rafe chuckles lightly to himself, as if he can't believe this is the reason you robbed him of his precious sleep. His words hurt you deeply and make you realize that you really shouldn not have woken him up.

"I'm sorry, I-", you start to apologize, but are promptly interrupted by a lightning strike that was probably very close by. The loud bang makes the walls shake and the rain falling from the sky intensifies. You huddle in fear, your head down, clutching the covers tightly.

"Oh, come here", Rafe chuckles, pulling you into his arms, his warmth welcoming your tense body. He gently lays your head on his chest so he can wrap his arms around you and hug you tight, giving you the protection you so desperately sought. As he stares at the ceiling and you just wait for another shock to go through your body, he draws patterns on your back, which is still hidden under the covers, with the tips of his fingers. How you can still lie under the covers at these temperatures remains a mystery to him.

"You are trembling, darling. Are you cold?", Rafe asks you softly, pressing his lips against the top of your head, gently tugging you closer and readjusting the blanket on top of you.

With a slight shake of your head you deny this, although you are not even sure if it is true. Your body is so tenee and your nervous system on fire that you can't tell whether you are warm or cold right now. But what you do know is that Rafe's closeness and mental presence somehow makes it better. The storm outside is not getting better by any means, but your heartbeat slows down a bit now as you focus on the patterns Rafe is still drawing on your back.

His other hand wanders over your lower body and finally slips under your shirt, which is way to big for you as you borrowed it from him to sleep in. His hand splayed across your stomach feels warm and you close your eyes for a moment, until the next thunder rumbles and makes you flinch.

"Shh, calm down. I'm with you. Nothing can happen to you here", Rafe whispers to you carefully, kissing the top of your head again and again while you listen to his regular heartbeat. "Not in my arms anyway."

"I know but.. Please, if it is okay with you, just hold me like this until the storm has passed", you ask him, cuddling up to and squeezing him even tighter, putting one leg over his waist.

"Of course, Baby. You don't have to ask me", he smiles softly and also hugs you tighter so that you face the raging storm outside together, almost forgetting the loud thunder as you listen to each other's breathing until you finally drift off into a deep and well-deserved slumber.

[lizadale]

I've been thinking: if Luigi ever did practice his lightning magic and gain more control over it, whoever is fighting him is preeettyyy screwed. I HC Luigi to be super analytical (my overthinking king <3) and can pinpoint people's weaknesses semi-easily - so if he hits someone's weak point with a dose of lightning, he could deadass disable them.

Plus, positive lightning strikes exist and are MUCH more dangerous and longer lasting - and I like to think that he can act like a lightning rod when it's storming.

Luigi doing a Black Flash is canon in my dreams fr

(If you've seen Centaurworld, I feel like Luigi and Chaos Heart shenanigans could turn him into the Taurnado - mainly b/c what's stopping Luigi and the Chaos Heart from being buddy buddy and merging? I personally treat CH more like an artifact a magical girl uses to power-up.)

honestly, yeah, lightning is an extremely OP element, which is part of the reason Luigi is afraid of using it. it pierces things, weaknesses or strengths be damned. the only real element that can stand against it is earth, but even then there's no perfect block to getting your inner circuits blown by a lightning bolt.

it's so unpredictable and hard to control that it's more likely to destroy things rather than help create them, which is why Thunderhand is always bestowed to a "destroyer." King Boo and the Shadow Queen also have lightning as their main element :3

i HC Luigi to have a negative charge so if a positive strike does occur he's probably short-circuiting any appliance he walks past for like a month lmao. him doing a black flash would probably destroy a small town

(i haven't seen centaurworld but i get the gist of what you mean. the Chaos Heart is really just a power source at its simplest. if Luigi didn't feel so gross about tapping into it he would be virtually untouchable)

[just-antithings]

Fascinating. Saw a blog where the person's intro post says they're a self-shipper, furry, vore enthusiast, etc, and finishes it with a big "Proshitters DNI."

I feel compelled to study this user like a lab animal.

Do these people not understand that:

Their interests are considered "proship" by many

They're admitting they understand that unconventional fictional interests are strictly fictional

Being able to enjoy their interests with little or no grief is definitely due to proshippers establishing "live and let ship" courtesies

Without proshippers as a lightning rod, there would be no hesitation of antis putting them on the chopping block next

Every damn time

[cosmologicalrising]

i said this in the tags of that one poll, but if you think the lightning flight is boring, i highly encourage you to think about the flight and the location while listening to nine inch nails' ghosts albums.

imagine vast expanses of sand dunes, reaching far into the horizon, grey sand under dark storm clouds, thunder rumbling in the distance. bones sticking out of the ground, a trickle of electricity whispering danger at your feet. rocks tumbling down canyons as lightning strikes metal rods besides you. mesas towering over you, dwarfing you below their smooth stone walls, the incredible machinery catching lightning strikes just as tall as the natural formations themselves. pylons reaching haphazardly upwards, their thick cables nearly blocking out the sky.

imagine the cities of inventors and engineers, the constant sound of machinery moving throughout the plazas and alleys. the walls of every building hum, and steam hisses through the pipes and metal plates. the beasts to the west thrive on the surviving foliage of the arid climate, while the beasts in the eastern cities run amok with a feast of electricity at their beck and call.