#they were the purple and orange rangers already

[heckyeahponyscans]

Lauren Faust originally imagined all her G1 childhood faves in a My Little Pony reboot. So why was Applejack the only one who made it in? We don't know for sure, but here is my theory.

IMO Hasbro went into the MLP reboot wanting each main character to be a different color of the rainbow, similar to TMNT or Power Rangers. (Which is a big improvement over Core 7 G3 when THREE out of seven characters were pink.)

So let's look at the initial G1 crew:

Sparkler - blue Twilight - pink Surprise - white Firefly - pink Applejack - orange Posey - yellow

Already we can see some pink is doubled up. But just wait.

Pinkie Pie was THE face of G3 My Little Pony and Rainbow Dash was nearly as popular. Hasbro made big versions of these ponies, they made small versions of them, they made plush baby versions, and they were immortalized on birthday cards, balloons, ornaments, and other merch. I was so disappointed when I heard Pinkie Pie would be in G4 because I was tired of seeing her, ha ha.

But Hasbro was not tired of selling merchandise of their most popular ponies, so I'm sure one of their first notes was "We absolutely need Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash in the new lineup."

Their personality changes wouldn't matter to Hasbro. What mattered was their marketability as toys / designs.

So Firefly, Twilight, and Sparkler were now out of the lineup, due to also being pink and blue.

Now we have:

Rainbow Dash - blue Pinkie Pie - pink Surprise - white ??? Applejack - orange Posey - yellow

But, uh oh! Pinkie Pie and Surprise both have balloon symbols. So Surprise also must die leave.

IMO the names being trademarked / easily defendable was important to Hasbro, and they already had hundreds of G3 names / designs at their disposal. And also they needed a purple pony for this lineup.

So Twilight Twinkle (later renamed Twilight Sparkle) joined the crew and became a unicorn.

Rainbow Dash - blue Pinkie Pie - pink ??? Twilight Twinkle / Sparkle - purple Applejack - orange Posey - yellow

G1 Glory's colors (white with purple hair) then replaced blue Sparkler. But wait!! Both Glory and Twilight Sparkle-Twinkle have stars on their rumps! So Rarity retained Sparkler's symbol of diamonds.

I don't know why they didn't use one of the G1 names, except perhaps that "Rarity the Unicorn" was already a Hasbro trademark, having been a G3 character.

Rainbow Dash - blue Pinkie Pie - pink Rarity - white Twilight Sparkle - purple Applejack - orange Posey - yellow

So why was Posey changed to Fluttershy? In my opinion she was switched up quite late because the original plot of Dragonshy had her as an earth pony, which is why she was struggling to get up the mountain. (That's why they had to add the bit about Fluttershy's wings locking up from fear.)

In addition to wanting a variety of colors, I think Hasbro wanted two of each main pony species. Originally Pinkie Pie was slated to be a pegasus, but then she was switched to an earth pony. So Yellow Pony was shunted into a pegasus slot instead.

Basically, I think Posey got replaced with Fluttershy because it was thought that butterfly symbols were more befitting for a pegasus. Plus girls love animals and if they needed plots revolving around growing plants, they already had Applejack on deck.

So in the end Applejack was the only G1 pony who remained in G4, not because Hasbro had any special hold on her, but because she had a pretty unique name and she wasn't a repeated color.

Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk

[patibato]

[Bitter Sweet Sixteen] 002-B02 - The Hair-Raising Sentai World is Too Sick!

Momiji: Umm, what on earth is this…

Akuta: Huh!? What's with that reaction! Isn't it clearly a concept, no matter how you look at it!?

Momiji: Y-yeah…

Nanaki: About this concept document. It looks like there's a… crab…? Thing drawn on it.

Akuta: It's not a "crab-thing", it's a floral egg crab. Come o~n! You're just playing dumb now!

Kiroku: I… really, like… it… this, picture…

Ushio: We aren't holding an exhibition here.

Sakujiro: Let's set aside the quality of the art. The problem is the content.

Akuta: Ye~s, allow me to expla~in! Plea~se turn to page one of the document!

Muneuji: But there's only one sheet.

Akuta: To start, I think it'd be good if the concept had a boom-boom pow-pow action feel.

Every customer gets to feel like an action star! Right? Right? Just thinking about it is hype, right!

And so, the curtain rises on the "Tourism Sentai Tourism Rangers! ~Revenge of the Demonic Floral Egg Crab~"

Ushio: Rangers…?

Muneuji: Come to think of it, he was making a ruckus the other day about studying tokusatsu sentai shows. And that he signed up for a subscription.

Akuta: A giant demonic floral egg crab invades Asu-High! Its favourite food is the brains of tourists and meat buns!

Momiji: (What a harsh worldview…!)

Akuta: A trampled school building! Explosions! Students and guardians in a panic to escape! Who could they possibly call to help!

We, the Tourism Sentai Tourism Rangers, appear in a flash and save the day!

I'm Tourism Orange! Kiroku's Purple and Nanaki's Turquoise! Pink is Muneuji and Ushio's Lime!

Ah, and when we appear there'll be an explosion of smoke in our five colours. That's a given when doing sentai stuff.

And so, with the evil defeated, peace is briefly restored to Asu-High, UNTIL—

Momiji: Wait, before you get to that, what's this Hishio bowl-like thing?

Akuta: The ones we had the other day were crazy good, so I drew that as a bonus.

Nanaki: Nothing to do with the concept, then.

Akuta: I'll continue now, thanks for your attention!

Akuta: And finally the Demonic Crab and the Tourism Rangers put on the BEST live and revue, THE • END!

So? Whaddaya think~!?

Momiji: To summarise… is it safe to say the general concept is "sentai action"?

Akuta: Yep!

Nanaki: How long did you spend thinking about this?

Akuta: A few seconds?

Sakujiro: I suppose coming up with all this in a matter of seconds can only be considered impressive, but… it's rather incoherent.

Akuta: Incoherent! Yay yay!

Momiji: Sakujiro-san, Akuta-kun considers "incoherent" to be a compliment.

Sakujiro: My mistake, then.

Ushio: Its favourite food being brains is seriously gross, so definitely change that. And aren't there too many explosions? Why do you want to blow stuff up so much? I don't get it.

Akuta: Becau~se art is an explosion.

Kiroku: …How will we… make… the, explosions…?

Akuta: That's already settled with the egg!

Muneuji: But it's returned to the sea.

Momiji: Egg?

Nanaki: Ah—no, it's uh… an egg shaped bomb. We saw something like that on dazzle recently.

Ushio: It's just some stupid anime thing, don't worry about it. We're still kids, you know.

Momiji: (Regardless, popping up with such an out-there plan… I was careless.)

(I should've checked in with him more. I know he has a tendency to run wild, I should've kept his hyperness in check.)

Ushio: So? Our team name?

Akuta: Just what I said! The Tourism Sentai • Tourism Rangers!

Ushio: Th-that's so lame I can't even comment on it.

Momiji: (This is my responsibility. First, I need to get control over the situation somehow—)

Nanaki: …This isn't gonna work.

Kiroku: …

Nanaki: To start, we can't make a giant demonic crab, and harming the school would be…

Akuta: No no no, we'll have them act like it's happening!

Ushio: Being forced to act at an open day… no way.

Muneuji: Even as a show, I wonder if everyone visiting the school would enjoy this concept.

There will be people of all ages and genders. How about doing something with wider appeal?

Ushio: What would you do if someone got hurt in an explosion? Wouldn't it give us all social death for sure this time?

Probably best that you stop going "explosions, explosions~" so casually. For all our sakes.

Kiroku: … I feel… like… you haven't… thought… about… the budget.

Akuta: Ugh…

Nanaki: In the first place, nothing in here has anything to do with either Asu-High or Hama.

Ushio: Don't go on about crazy things, and come up with a proper concept already.

Akuta: …H-haven't you just been criticising me all this time! Even in JJ Park, after judging it they go "but" and praise it. Isn't there anything to praise me for!

Muneuji: I've been searching for some for a while, but all I've found are difficulties.

Akuta: Doh…

Kiroku: …I think… the, pictures, are… good…

Akuta: …

Goin' toilet.

*door opens*

*running*

Momiji: A-Akuta-kun…!

(His expression was uncharacteristically stiff… It might be best to get some fresh air.)

—Everyone! It's a bit early, but let's break for lunch.

Momiji: (What are you doing, Akuta-kun…)

Nanaki: …

Momiji: Nanaki-kun! Do you know if Akuta-kun's in the conference room?

Nanaki: -… …I don't know.

Momiji: I see. Thank you.

Nanaki: …Right.

Momiji: (I think I'll go buy a bento for him and try calling out… I hope he cheers up.)

Akuta: … …

Nanaki: Whaaat are you idling about for?

Akuta: Woah!? Nanaki, you scared me!

Nanaki: Got you. …Can I sit on the elephant too?

Akuta: Go right ahead~ Not like it belongs to me.

Nanaki: …I was thinking you might've felt down from earlier. You faced some pretty harsh criticism.

Akuta: …Aah~

Nanaki: Since I make music, I kinda get it—

Making art is like laying yourself bare. I'm familiar with the fear of exposing it to the public.

But you know… Even if it's not perfect, you can't make a start without doing that.

We became Ward Mayors for the purpose of starting all kinds of things.

There's bound to be hardships, as well as those who deny you—lots of them, in fact—

But no matter what, I think, "I have to make a start". …I'm sure it's the same for you.

Akuta: Hehe.

Nanaki: ?

Akuta: Thanks! You've got a gift for being kind. But I wasn't feeling down aaat all about it!

First off, people that don't understand how great I am are the ones who end up cramping my style—

So all I gotta do is say bye-bye to them. Simple, right?

In this world, we have "the freedom to not understand each other". S'what my uncle says.

Nanaki: …

Pfft… hahahaha…! And here I was, getting all worried. Should've known how tenacious you are. How fun.

Akuta: That~said.

This time, I don't wanna say bye-bye just yet. It'd be too easy, so no way.

Nanaki: …

Akuta: Ah, you want some? They're tasty. Kiroku came by and gave 'em to me without a word earlier.

Nanaki: Small baby cookies… seems like something he'd give. Thanks. Nom nom…

Akuta: Nom nom… By the way, are you making the music for our Hospitality Live?

Nanaki: Huh?

Akuta: Your songs are the BEST! I've wanted to get one from you from the start!

Nanaki: Aah… yeah, well, I guess… that's fine… no, let me think about it a bit more.

I'm actually holding back on making stuff for now.

Akuta: What!? Why!?

Nanaki: …'Cause… they…

They… all end up being lo… love songs.

Akuta: Huh~!?

Nanaki: I want to stop too, or like, I feel like I'm slipping into bad habits, so I've been trying to bottle up my feelings, but…

Akuta: Wha~t are you grumbling about? Anyway, we don't need a love song, y'know? A regular one is fine.

Nanaki: I know. But—haven't you ever had something you can't help but think about, asleep or awake?

Akuta: …

Nanaki: That's how I'm feeling right now. But I could say the same about you…

That concept you showed us earlier was completely cluttered with stuff you wanted to do.

Maybe it'd be a good idea to focus on one thing you think about often to use as a base.

Not movies or anything. Something that's come from inside you, y'know—

Akuta: Inside me… like what?

Nanaki: Like— l-love troubles, or something…

Momiji: Ah! Here you both are.

Nanaki: -…!?

Akuta: Oh, Sensei!

Nanaki: W-with that, I'll leave things here! Bye!

*running*

Momiji: …Nanaki-kun left, huh.

Akuta: Yeah. …Hmm… …

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Masterlist

[augment-techs]

Had weird thoughts about Dino Thunder after marathoning it and had to write it down.

Tommy: Black, Red, White, Green Grid compatible, but could also probably carry on like a strobe light if given half the chance, because he is The Special, so I'm not getting into the meaning.

Conner: Red Grid compatible, but, like, how ROCKY was Red Grid compatible. Is better in a small group, so they can share the burden. Kind of wish they'd done more with him in Beyond the Grid than just that one panel with Terona.

Ethan: Blue Grid compatible, but the entire time I watched the series my brain kept thinking a very stupid thought in that--should he be? Given all of the stuff all of these teens went through in equal measure, he seems to be the one to get in over his head or have shit tossed at him almost as much as Trent. I kinda feel like he would make a very good Green.

Kira: I get why she's Yellow. Yellow needed someone as sassy and in the moment/down to earth as her to ground the boys. I get it. But she should have either had a different Dino Zord or been given Pink as a secondary color. It kinda pisses me off.

Trent: They should have made his clone earlier to have made the secret keeping bullshit draw out and actually mean something. I'm happy that he's a White Ranger with a PAST that is not all sunshine and rainbows and is clearly mentally ill due to the strain and whatever was happening the entire time with Anton and Mesagog; but also I feel like he could have pulled in extra attention from Hayley, Devin, and Cassidy--because he's the member of the team with that vibe and it was SO wasted.

Hayley: Everyone has already said this, but I'll say it too. She should have been gay and hooked up with Elsa at the end, but more than that, she felt WAY more like an additional SPECIAL Ranger than most other tech support in PR. She would have been lovely in Gold or Silver, just sayin'.

Cassidy: They CODED her Purple. They coded the shit out of her and it pisses me off that it never went anywhere. She is regal, bossy, go in or go home; but more than that she has the Purple indicator of The Planner. A lot of her plans didn't go anywhere, but some of them DID and that feels important to a member of a comedy duo. Although I am a little grateful that this wasn't obvious because her hooking up ONCE with Ethan lead to--

Devin: Ethan was actually friends with this little softie who is so incredibly Orange coded that it makes me want to cry. Cass might be the Planner, but Devin is the DOER--he questions, he hesitates, but he gets the job DONE. And when we get to the end of the season, somehow unsurprisingly, he is gamer buddies with Ethan in a way that works for both of them. The Blue/Orange dynamic that could have been a building block for MORE to come. All these thoughts basically just boil down to my BEGGING the universe that when the comics get into the Dino Thunder series, some things get addressed that were missed on. Please.

[kfkr1ze]

[002-B02] A Scary Sentai World is too Excessive!

Summary — ✈︎ Akuta confidently announces his concept for their first tour, but the other students are confused by how incoherent the proposal is.

Characters — ✈︎ Akuta, Kiroku, Nanaki, Muneuji, Ushio, Sakujiro

Location: HAMA Tours Meeting Room

Kaede: Umm, what is this…?

Akuta: EHHH!? What’s with that reaction!? No matter how you look at it, that’s clearly our tour concept!

Kaede: R-Right…

Nanaki: This is the concept proposal, right? There’s something like a crab…? Drawn on the corner of it.

Akuta: It’s not “something like a crab”, it’s the Monstrous Ultra Smooth Meat Bun Crab! Stop it guuuys, now I’m worried it’s too vague!

Kiroku: I… like this… drawing…

Ushio: Well this isn’t an art exhibit, so.

Sakujiro: Let us move on from the topic of the art. Rather, the real problem is the content of the proposal.

Akuta: ‘Kayyy, then I’ll get on with my explanation. Let’s turn to page one!

Muneuji: There’s only one sheet of paper.

Akuta: First up is the concept. I wanted to do a heart racing action scene with a buncha fwooms and bwaams! That kinda feeling is fine, right?

And all the guests can be action stars too! You get it? See? Everytime I think about it, I get too excited!

Akuta: That’s why the title is “The Touring Sentai Kankou[1] Rangers!〜 Revenge of the Monstrous Ultra Smooth Meat Bun Crab〜” Opening scene〜!

Ushio: Rangers…?

Muneuji: Now that I think about it, the other day he was making a big deal about us watching some Tokusatsu Sentai series. I believe he bought a subscription?

Akuta: So at Asu High, the HUUUGE Monstrous Ultra Smooth Meat Bun Crab makes his attack! His favorite snack is the brains and flesh of tourists!

Kaede: (This worldview of his is way too excessive…!)

Akuta: He’ll crush the school building! There are explosions! The students and parents are trying to escape. And, when all hope seems lost, someone calls out for help!

And that’s when we, “The Touring Sentai Kankou Rangers”, appear in a flash and save everyone!

I already got our colors down. I’m gonna be Kankou Orange! Kiroku is Purple and Nanaki is Turquoise! Pink is Muneuji and then Ushio is Lime!

Oh right, in the debut scene, when the explosion goes off, the smoke that comes out is gonna be in our five image colors. Like your stereotypical Sentai scene!

So after that, we defeat the Monstrous Ultra Smooth Meat Bun Crab, and then peace will return to Asu High for another day… BUTーー

Kaede: Wait um, before we continue, what’s with the Hishio-don thing right here?

Akuta: The ones we had the other day were SOOO good, so I drew it there as a bonus.

Nanaki: That literally has nothing to do with the concept.

Akuta: Alrighty, I’m continuing on with the explanation!

Akuta: So at the end, we’ll do the BEST LIVE EVER with us rangers and the Monstrous Ultra Smooth Manjuu Crab and then we review aannd that’s the・end!

Well? What’dya think〜!?

Kaede: To summarize… is it fine to say the overall concept is a “Sentai Action”?

Akuta: That’s OKAY!

Nanaki: How long did it take you to think of this?

Akuta: Seconds?

Sakujiro: I believe the fact that you conjured this all up within seconds is somewhat praiseworthy, however… It is quite incoherent.

Akuta: Incoherent! YAYYAYY!!

Kaede: Sakujiro-san, Akuta-kun takes “incoherent” as a compliment…

Sakujiro: How insolent.

Ushio: Its favorite food being brains is too gross so that has to get changed. And why are there so many explosions? Why do you want everything to explode so much? I don’t get the point at all.

Akuta: ‘Cuz explosions are a piece of art〜

Kiroku: ……How will… you make… an explosion…?

Akuta: Isn’t that obvious? Clearly we’ll use the egg!

Muneuji: But it has already returned to the sea.

Kaede: An egg?

Nanaki: Ah uhーー It’s not a regular egg… It’s an egg shaped bomb . We saw something like that on dazzle.

Ushio: It’s just useless anime talk, so don’t worry about it. ‘Cuz we’re all dumb kids.

Kaede: (Even so, I wasn’t expecting a plan that flew this off the rails… I was too careless.)

(I should’ve checked in on him more… Maybe I could’ve caught this earlier on and kept him in check.)

Ushio: So? What’s our team name?

Akuta: I already said it! The Touring Sentai Kankou Rangers!

Ushio: T-That’s so fucking lame… I’m at a loss for words.

Kaede: (This is my responsibility. First, I got to get us out of this mess and get things sortedーー)

Nanaki: …Yeah, there’s no way we can go with this.

Kiroku: ………

Nanaki: First up, there’s no way we can make a gigantic ultra smooth crab. Not just that, but we can’t damage the school…

Akuta: Nonono, we’re not gonna ACTUALLY do it, it’s just an act!

Ushio: First day back and being forced to act in a show like this… Hell no.

Muneuji: Putting the willingness to act aside, will every person who comes to the school enjoy this concept?

People from all age and gender groups are gathering. Why not find a broader concept that they will all enjoy?

Ushio: How can you be sure that no one will get injured from the explosion? We won’t just be outcasted this time, our entire social lives will die.

I don’t think we should be exploding things so casually. For our own sake too.

Kiroku: …I feel like……you might’ve… forgotten……to think about… our budget.

Akuta: Uu……

Nanaki: As a concept, it’s not related to Asu High or HAMA in the first place.

Ushio: Don’t just come up with something on the fly. Take the time to actually think of a better concept.

Akuta: …T-This whole time you’ve all just been criticizing me! Even JJ Park will add a “but” to the end of his criticisms and actually praise people! Praise me more!

Muneuji: I’ve been trying to think of something praiseworthy this entire time, but I have not found anything yet.

Akuta: Whaaat…

Kiroku: ……I think… your drawings… were… really good……

Akuta: ………

Bathroom.

Kaede: A-Akuta-kun…!

(Akuta-kun’s expression looked unusually tense there… Maybe it’s best if we get a bit of fresh air before meeting again.)

ーーEveryone! It’s a bit early, but let’s take a lunch break.

Location: HAMA Tours Office Floor

Kaede: (What are you doing right now, Akuta-kun…)

Nanaki: ………

Kaede: Nanaki-kun, do you know if Akuta-kun’s in the conference room?

Nanaki: Uh… I don’t know.

Kaede: I see… Thanks anyways.

Nanaki: …Yeah.

Kaede: (I’ll just buy a bento box for him downstairs and try calling for him… I hope he cheers up.)

Location: HAMA Tours Back Wharf

Akuta: ………

Nanaki: Whaaat are you spacing out for?

Akuta: Woaooh!? Nanaki, you scared me!

Nanaki: Got you. …Can I sit on this elephant?

Akuta: Go right ahead〜 It’s not like I own it or anything.

Nanaki: …I thought you might be feeling a bit down after what happened earlier. You got criticized pretty badly.

Akuta: …Aah〜

Nanaki: I make music myself, so I can get it a bitーー

Anything you make yourself is like seeing your bare self. It can get scary exposing yourself like that to the public.

But y’know… Even if it’s not a perfect piece, you’ll never get anywhere unless you do expose yourself like that.

We became Ward Mayors in order to start all kinds of new things like that.

There’s bound to be tough spots along the way, and there definitely will be people who criticize you. Actually, it’s the overwhelming majority who do at firstーー

But no matter what, I think to myself, “I have to start somewhere” …It’s the same for you too.

Akuta: Heh.

Nanaki: ?

Akuta: Thank you! Nanaki, you're like some kinda kindness expert. But don’t worry, I’m not depressed at ALL!

In the first place, if people don’t get my good points at all, they’re the ones who are gonna make my charisma go awayーー

So I just gotta say bye bye to those people! Right? Isn’t it simple?

In this world, we have “the freedom to not understand each other.” That’s what my Uncle told me.

Nanaki: ….....

Pff… Hahahaha…! I was just worried for nothing. Of course you’re the stubborn type. How interesting.

Akuta: Buu・uut.

…This time, I don’t wanna say goodbye to you guys. It’s the easy way out, so I don’t wanna do that.

Nanaki: ………

Akuta: Oh, you want some? It’s super good. Kiroku came by earlier to give me some. He didn’t say anything, though.

Nanaki: Baby cookies… It’s very Kiroku-esque huh. Then, I’ll take some. Munch munch…

Akuta: Munch munch… By the way, you’re the one who’s gonna write our song for the Hospitality Live, right Nanaki?

Nanaki: Eh?

Akuta: Your music is literally THE BEST! I always wanted you to be the one who makes it!

Nanaki: Ahー…… Yeah, or wait no, I don’t…really care but… Nah, I have to think about it a bit more.

‘Cuz the truth is, I’m not really making music right now.

Akuta: EH!?? WHY!??

Nanaki: …‘Cuz I… lo…

Nanaki: I… I keep making… Love songs…

Akuta: Hahh〜!?

Nanaki: I wanna stop making them too, but like, I keep getting stuck in this loop, so I’ve been trying to keep my feelings in control, but…

Akuta: Wha〜t? I can’t hear what you mumbling, but we don’t need love songs y’know? Just make normal ones.

Nanaki: I know. Butーー Don’t you have something that you can’t help but think about, no matter if you’re awake or asleep?

Akuta: ………

Nanaki: That’s just what I feel like right now. But I could say the same thing about you…

The concept you came up with was just a mess that was filled with a buncha stuff you liked all over the place, right?

Maybe it’d be a good idea for you to take the idea you think about the most and use it as a base for the concept.

But not like movies or anything. Something a bit more internal, or personalーー

Akuta: Internal… Like what?

Nanaki: Likeーー L-Love troubles, or something…

Kaede: Ah, Akuta-kun and Nanaki-kun, there you are.

Nanaki: Ah……!?

Akuta: Ohh, Sensei!

Nanaki: T-That’s all I wanted to say, so I’m going now! Bye!

Kaede: …Nanaki-kun just left.

Akuta: Yeah. …Hm…

Previous — ✈︎ Masterlist — ✈︎ Next

Notes — ✈︎

For "The Touring Sentai Kankou Rangers" He says “Kankou” twice, once in kanji (観光) and once in katakana. It means tourism, so I decided to keep the “Kankou” in katakana as just kankou instead of trying to translate it twice, since afterwards he’s like I’m kankou orange ! For Enstars fans (sorry.) it’s kindaaa how people will say “ryuusei red” instead of “meteor red”

[atonalginger]

WIP Wednesday

@bearlytolerant reminded my it was Wednesday (or more like was going to be Wednesday soon for me but same difference) and so I'm going to take care of this now:) I'm also tagging loosely by saying if you see this and you have a WIP you want to share, tag you're it.

my chunk is from Ranger and the Deputy and the second arc, which focuses on the mission to find Barrett, Heller, and Lin. This chunk comes with a tw: death for a side character. Will throw the chunk under a cut

He could see Kitty already moving for the crash, her suppressed Rattler in hand. He hurried after her while Jazz made her way to the Frontier, calling out to Vasco about the busted radio. Del pinged Kitty’s suit and waited for the line to open.

“I don’t know what happened to the radio, I couldn’t understand a word you were saying,” she said, her voice bouncing with her foot falls, “Vasco picked up a distress signal from this ship as soon as we got in orbit. He said it was set after the crash and had a hidden message in it from Barrett.”

“Jazz is going to look at the radio, I’m just glad you got here in one piece,” Del finally caught up to her, “that’s a clever set up Vasco discovered.”

“Be better if it wasn’t attached to a crashed ship,” Kitty skid to a stop with a gasp. He looked out in front of them and saw a body hunched over in a dingy white spacesuit with orange panels. There was no movement from the body. Kitty dropped her pistol and broke into a sprint, “No! Heller!”

Delgado ran after her, hoping his eyes were wrong. Suits were bulky after all, they didn’t move with people’s breath like street clothes. He could just be hurt, they could rush him to Akila City, Dr. Cartwright would get him patched up.

Kitty knelt next to Heller and leaned down, checking his suit systems. Through the open channel she was panicking, “no, no, no, no, no…”

Del joined her and looked over her shoulder. All systems were offline. Heller’s skin was blue with a gray overcast, eyes closed, deep bruising around the sockets. His lips were purple. His body was completely limp and slumped over onto the ground when she went to sit him up. Kitty sobbed, gasping for breath. Del reached out to her and drew her close, panic knotting his stomach. He was not equipped to handle a breakdown in the best of times and these were definitely not the best of times.

Kitty’s sobs fell away with a firm sniff and then a sudden stillness fell over her. Her words, when she finally spoke, were ice cold, “where is everyone else?”

“That’s a good question, deputy,” Del decided to keep things professional, “we should look for clues. A slate or notes, anything to point us in a direction.”

“Should we try inside the ship?” Kitty was arranging Heller’s body so he laid comfortably on the ground. As she lifted his right hand a slate fell to the ground. She scooped it up quickly, “or maybe…” She pressed play:

Unknown Voice: You’ve given the Fleet a lot of trouble, Barrett.

Del knew that voice. That was Matsura, a Fleet captain he thought he had control of, one of his only inside lines to the Crimson Fleet. Matsura shouldn’t have been in the Narion system at all. He realized that's where he knew Brogan’s name from: Brogan was one of Matsura’s lieutenants.

Barrett: Hey, since when is surviving being attacked ‘causing trouble’? Hey, pilot, could you move your arm a little bit to the left? I can’t make out the console.

Matsura: Don’t move! He’s trying to figure out our destination! Probably transmitting this conversation right now while we’re still in orbit.

Don’t sound so excited, Matsura, Del thought. He knew that was part of the bastard’s plan.

Barrett: Well, yeah. Thought I was making that pretty obvious. Okay, okay. Put the gun down. I’m done, see? My retinas are pointing away from the console and towards this lovely view of space we have out the window.

Matsura: Tie him up. Once we get back to the base, the fun starts…

“It’s all just a game to him,” Kitty said flatly. She was looking through the meta data on the transmission again, “Bessel III.”

“That’s where Matsura’s base of operations is,” Del said.

“What?” Kitty turned around, her eyes burning with rage, “you know the asshole who did this?”

“He’s not supposed to be in this system!”

“How many more are there?” she was shaking, her face turning red.

“It’s a part of the job!” he shouted defensively, “you find the ones willing to play ball and cut deals for information. He was supposed to be staying out of Freestar systems and in exchange I didn’t raze his fucking base to the ground. He broke that deal so now we’re going to wipe his shitty home off the fucking map.”

[blankd]

MushRush SRPG Devlog Aug 10th, 2024

Time for the first update!

READ MORE to see: my production plan, why I'm calling this MushRush, what this week's Golden Duncecap moment was (and how I solved it), and some of THE scrungliest assets.

NOTE: I will be tagging all posts like this with the 'mushrush SRPG' tag, yes even after I figure out a real name for this project

PRODUCTION PLAN

This update will be lacking in screenshots as I was mostly fiddling with the SRPG Plugin suite, locking in a battle/events roadmap for the entirety of the game, and organizing my notes into something more concise. The battle roadmap outlined their purpose (narrative and/or mechanically), if they had something noteworthy in plot or flaovr, their objectives and their failstates, and a rough idea of what visual assets they might require.

There is roughly a total of 33 maps: so far 5 are core/mandatory, 6-7 are optional, the rest are progression. The distribution may change as production goes forward, and the map count may even decrease but I'm absolutely holding myself from exceeding that 33 number as this number does NOT include whatever magic I need to use for towns or 'cutscenes'.

Additionally, I'm holding off on ANY art assets, writing, and such, until the game has a solid mechanical skeleton to be played through. Since there are a maximum of 7 (8 technically, as its sometimes a Unit on the map but has no personality) party members, I'm optimistic about its implementation and testing. I'm also already planning to reuse/upcycle the enemies from Moon-Scarred appropriately. Waste not, want not!

PROJECT NAME/WHY MUSHRUSH?

it's not a spoiler to say this (as it's visually obvious within the first map), but you play as a cleric of a Divine Mushroom and will be carting it around to solve the Undead Problem. I'm fairly bad at titles, so while I know the name Mysilla is important, I can't figure out a snappy game title for it yet, so MushRush will keep things silly. 8)

THIS WEEK'S GOLDEN DUNCECAP MOMENT

The Issue: I encountered my first (and hopefully worst) instance of things breaking where I could not get my template map to run at all- it would completely skip showing the Pre-Battle (win/lose conditions, etc.), (functionally) skip the Battle Preparation Phase (couldn't place any units, but I could 'Start' the battle with 0 usable units) and then enter an infinite loop of the Turn Incrementing even though no Player OR Enemy Turns were occurring.

The problem was so severe and 'unsolvable' that even my basic ass debugging method of putting trigger text to tell me if/when the code was running, would not trigger. After a LONG journey of consulting the demo's documentation- even literally copying the eventing framework, nothing was working.

As I went to reset the Plugins, I noticed that they were in the incorrect order. For context: a (purposeful) function of RPGm is that Plugins have certain priorities and sometimes need a specific order, but when LOADING the plugins into RPGm, it's alphabetical in its folder (because how would IT know what order it's supposed to be in). I fucked up in that I had only remembered to put the core plugin at the top, but loaded the rest alphabetically because I was lazy and had just forgotten this BASIC FUNCTION.

Once the Plugins were organized into their correct order as intended by the Plugins' creator, everything worked as expected. So learn from my mistakes and never forget Rule 0 of RPGm use- check your goddamn Plugin Order FIRST!!

THE SCRUNGLES (aka a Most Unflattering Teaser of the Main Cast)

White = not-Halfling Cleric MC Orange = Dragon(born) Lady Paladin Grey = Orc Rogue Purple = Drow Barbarian Blue = not-Tiefling Sorcerer Red = Human Wizard (a HUMAN? MODS, BAN HER) Green = Goblin Ranger (even though in my notes I call her Druid, whoops!) Brown = yeah that's a cart, what of it

While the broad strokes of the characters are present/set (I'm still figuring out Rogue's clothing, oops), enough details can still change or will later be included to make them less boring, such as how Red/Wizard is an older lady, but there's no point to putting the wrinkles at this stage.

I hope you look forward to whenever I can post their 'talking' scene sprites to show off more of their designs! Thanks for reading~

[saturnmortis]

The Everything Man pg. 1

(1, 2, 3, 4, 5)

Sam Canyon rode through the plains, the sound of grass stalks waving filled the air and muffled the sound of Ranger’s snorts. The last few minutes of sunlight painted the field in oranges and pinks, and purple clouds billowed overhead like heather. A large hawk soared, paralleling Sam. Two loners on a mission to nowhere, letting the land and air guide them.

The trickling of a small pond split through the grass, inviting them to stop. Sam dismounted from the brown steed, who had already bent down to drink, took out his waterskin to refill, and sat down on a flat rock to watch a bird that landed on a small tree sapling, a pink house finch. It chirped the first few notes of its songs, before getting stuck in place like a taxidermy. “The hell..?” He asks, standing up and stepping over the now-frozen steam to examine the bird. The sounds of the grass have also stopped as if shushed by an unseen force, and the bird was paused in time, its unknowing eyes stayed in place. Behind it were smooth metal tiles, leading off to a path. They spaced away from each other but slowly connected as Sam looked down the path. Soon, they started building up as a wall and then a gray corridor, with strange blue lights that juxtapose with the colorful orange plains. 

He walked through the corridor, with buzzing blue lights and windows whose outsides’ led to different lives and places. 

The first, a swarming ball of fire and rock, a shattered moon, and dazzling comets. Large rocks whizzed by and a bloated star roared into life.

The next was a busy city, small market stalls lined the brick paths with people rushing to and fro like a flat anthill. Beautiful people dressed in clothes Sam didn’t recognize, young children playing in the streets, some sharing food and drinks with each other.

The last was a vast emptiness, not even stars shined through, but then there was an explosion of light and color. Veins of color stretched outwards and beams of light danced across the desolations, filling the hallway with oranges and pinks and purples.

These sights filled him with fear and sadness, humanity and love, awe and happiness.

Footsteps sounded behind him, and he turned to notice that the corridor built itself around him and that he was no longer in the grassy plain. A man stood there, an unrecognizable face, a long coat, and an outline that warped the space around him. His instincts screamed at him to run, but he was backed into a dead end.

[avalonbayblog]

Once and Always // Avalon-verse // Chapter 1

Summary - After tragedy strikes, an unlikely young hero takes her rightful place among the Power Rangers to face off against the team's oldest arch nemesis Robo Rita and her husband Zord Zedd.

-

Prologue

One fateful day in 1993, the evil sorceress Rita Repulsa escaped her Space Dumpster prison and attacked Earth. Five teenagers with attitude had their lives changed forever when Zordon chose them to defend the planet. In the decades since, many more heroes have continued their legacy.

The people of Earth rest easy, knowing their home is protect by Power Rangers.

But in 2023, Angel Grove is rocked by the reappearance of monsters they thought were forever gone…

…

..

.

Billy Cranston gasped, forcing his tired body to push itself into a standing position. His entire body ached. Lip split at the corner and a dull ache in his jaw from the scissor kick he hadn't expected from the Putty that wiggled and wobbled in front of him.

Taunting him.

Along with the rest of the putties that converged in a group.

Billy clenched his teeth and fists, glaring at the gray mass in front of him. More, importantly, glaring at the roboticized space with that stood before him. Robo Rita. She cackled, the same cackle that used to haunt his dreams through battle after battle against the forces of evil.

"Any last words?" Robo Rita taunted. She slowly but surely spun her staff in her hands. The red gem at the top gleamed in the sunlight, making Billy wince and look away every time it waved across his face. She chuckled quietly.

"Just a few," Billy replied. He reached down and grabbed his morpher. With gusto, he thrust it forwards. "It's morphin' time! Triceratops!" In a bright blue blast of light, he morphed into the Mighty Morphin' Blue Ranger. For the first time in several years. But it was just like riding a bike, the second he felt the power of the Morphing Grid flow through him, with the suit encompassing him…he was invincible.

Rita growled. Not that she hadn't expected it; she was no stranger to seeing her nemesis in front of her. But even the mere sight of a rainbow color made her circuits fry. "Putties!" She cried. Her minions all turned to look at her. "Grind him into blue dust!"

All at once, the putties leapt forward and attacked Billy once more. He easily fended them off. Knocking them left and right as he worked to get towards the Space Witch. Once he knocked enough putties out of the way, he swung a solid punch towards Robo Rita. She deflected the attack with a swing of her staff, catching Billy on the wrist. His arm flew aside, and she struck him in the side, knocking him to his knees.

"Ugh!"

Rita jabbed him hard in the ribs with the blunt end of her staff. When she pulled her staff back, the putties converged once more, grabbing Billy and threw him to the ground. As he moved to get back to his feet, a yellow light charged around Rita's staff and she sent the energy forward, knocking him in the chest and throwing him across the grassy top of the seaside cliff.

"Why'd you lead me here?" Rita demanded. "Was your grand plan just to die outside in the fresh sea breeze?" She mockingly waved her wand as another breeze blew across them. What would've been an ominous wind if the sky was dark, combatted by the bright sunshine surrounding them.

At that moment, a cascade of light appeared between Billy and Rita. Red, Yellow, Pink, Black, White, Orange, and Purple. Jason Scott, Trini Kwan, Kimberly Hart, Zack Taylor, Tommy Oliver, and Avalon and Bailey Mitchell.

Rita scoffed when she looked at the rest of the rangers that appeared before her. A far cry from previous years where she would've started to quake at the sight of the colorful team. "Oh, you brought friends. Now, it's a reunion!" If it were possible for the already slasher-like smile on her roboticized face to grow wider, it would have.

"Got your distress call," Zack declared, reaching out to help Billy off the ground. Kimberly stood on Billy's other side, hefting him up. "And we zipped here as fast as we could."

"Thanks, Zack," Billy replied. The group turned to face Robo Rita once more.

"Man, that's Rita?" Jason asked.

"I can't believe she's back," Kimberly said.

"Neither can I," Trini said.

"The robo look's not for her," Avalon agreed.

"She'll look better on a junk heap," Bailey said.

"But we can take her!" Tommy declared. The rangers all nodded, falling into their familiar fighting stances. Waited for the first movement to be made.

"Destroy them all!" Rita screeched.

The rangers raced toward the putties and leapt into attack the putties while Billy took on Rita. Jason, Tommy, and Bailey showed off their strong martial arts skills as they fought, taking on each putty that came toward them with a strong offensive. Trini's Praying Mantis style, slightly more on the defensive, had the Putties come toward her while she took them out with ease. Kimberly flipped back and forth—literally—between putties as they tried to take her down, she was just too graceful to be grabbed. Zack slipped in and out of the wiggling putties with his Hip Hop Kido armed with his strong punches and kicks that knocked the putties into dust. Avalon, with all the strength foisted in her, used a very combative fighting style that took out the Putties left and right with ease.

Billy, on the other hand, took on Rita himself. He had never fought her one on one before, and the mechanized version of her wasn't making the fight easy. Every time he moved to make a strike against her, she would parry it. Finally, she knocked him up into the air with a swipe of his legs from her staff.

As he spun around, Billy struck out his elbow, striking her directly in the face. The shockwave of that hit, bone against metal, shot through his body. Like smacking his funny bone times ten. Crouching, Billy looked to Rita's face, which was broken at the jaw, to his elbow. Surveyed the damage. It felt like she had actually bitten him.

The irony wouldn't be lost on me, Billy thought, looking back to her once more. He slowly curled his fingers, flexed them. Hissed through his teeth in pain. Maybe that move wasn't the smartest one you've ever made, Billy.

"Oh, my face!" Rita cried. She ran her hands over her face, from the smoothness of her forehead to the jagged mess just under her nose. With a deeply guttural growl, Rita turned back to Billy, tightening her grip on her staff so hard it sounded like it cracked within her grasp. "I was having fun! But you want to get serious?" Her eyes and the red gem on her staff started to glow a hellish red. "Come on, let's get deadly serious!"

"Oh boy," Billy murmured.

"You know I loved that face. Just like I love all that power in my new robot body." The redness glowed brighter and brighter, though also held a darkish tint to it. As if dark energy was coursing through her veins and into her staff. "But I'll gladly give up some of that energy for a spell that kills!"

A devastating beam of energy erupted from her staff and shot towards Billy.

"Billy!" Trini cried.

Billy turned his head away, raising his arm to shield himself. Waited for the pain. Found it didn't come. He turned and opened his eyes, seeing the exact moment Trini was struck by the blast meant for him, that hefted her up into the air, stuck in the swirling red and black vortex.

"Trini!".

The red-black energy lifted Trini overhead, towards the cliffside before it erupted in a dramatic energy blast that pinned Billy straight to the ground.

"NO!" Jason screamed.

The resulting shockwave knocked the rangers off their feet, destroyed the Putties nearby that were too close to the shockwave. Finally, the pressure relented and the rangers, scrambling to get up, raced to Billy's side. Billy took off his helmet, kneeling down by the cliffside, eyes frantically scanning for any sign of life. Suddenly, he pitched to the side from Jason's shove, where he yanked off his helmet and took Billy's place, searching.

"No…" Kimberly fell to her knees, grasping at the ground with her gloved hands. Tommy knelt beside her, pressing one hand to her shoulder, the other clenched into a fist. Avalon and Bailey grasped at each other. Zack let out a quiet curse under his breath.

Billy lay where he landed, shoved aside, stretched out on his side, breathing heavily, staring in disbelief at nothing.

"Goodbye Trini Kwan," Rita said then teleported from sight.

[kimberlyannharts]

Honestly, I'd have been disappointed if Fern was Pink. Pink and Purple were established already-but Orange wasn't. Every other Orange we've had in the series was an evil copy, a dream, or a one-off transformation that wasn't technically an "Orange" Ranger. (The closest was Kat Ranger, or Blaze's color being Amber.) So it's fitting that, for the last series of the original continuity, we get the one color that was never completely filled in. (But that's just my take: feel free to disagree.)

As I said in my previous ask, me pointing out Fern having classic pink attributes is just something I've noticed as they basically use her to fill in Pink's "role" with Amelia ditching her color to be red and having her personality shifted into cool stoic leader as a result of that. I think it's great that we have a 100% no-dodging-it orange ranger, and I'm glad Fern got something that was purely her own. But at the same time, it's impossible to not see it as this writing team wanting to check off another "first" for their series, especially when Fern was associated with purple before and was basically used to fill pink's role with Amelia becoming red

[fnrrfygmschnish]

Over the past weekend, I stumbled across some old (2007ish) designs I had made for my own made-up team of Power Rangers.

Aaaaand since I've been mildly obsessed with Power Rangers recently (probably as a direct side-effect of binge-watching back through the original series recently), and also itching to get back to drawing more often... I ended up redesigning them a bit and drawing them again!

Their power source is a set of colored Orbs which let them connect with the souls of various ancient warriors to use their fighting styles and such, inspired by my old never-finished RPG Maker 2003 game Uggy Barfoo.

In the 2007 concepts each ranger only had access to a single "Soul" power, but I'm thinking it'd be more interesting if instead of a single set power each one has access to several (3 or maybe 4?) so they can switch back and forth between wildly different fighting styles and weapons depending on what they need at the time -- like the Uggy Barfoo class changing system (pretty much like the job system in Final Fantasy 3 or 5.) For example, a ranger could call upon "Soul of the Paladin" to switch into a heavily armored defensive mode with an oversized shield, or "Soul of the Berserker" to focus on charging in and attacking at full force with little regard for their own safety.

Missing from this page are the two "extras" I had planned in the 2007 concept, but they were never really considered part of the same team. One was kind of a weird loner who'd help from time to time, but usually not in a direct combat sort of role. The other was a bad guy, who would have been pretty much irredeemable as long as the source of her power was intact -- her orb contained the soul of a villain who sealed himself inside it to survive something that would have killed him, and the more she used it the more influence he'd have over her. Both had very different suits from the main team, so they would need a full body drawing to themselves rather than being just helmets added on like the blue/purple/orange/red ones here.

I haven't drawn their human forms just yet, mainly because I don't really want to reuse all the Uggy Barfoo characters like I did in the 2007 concepts. The Purple Ranger's human identity will most likely still be the same (since the Uggy Barfoo character is unlikely to reappear in any of my current games/stories/etc.), and I had already started changing the Green Ranger's human identity to be further removed from the Uggy Barfoo character even back in 2007. Ideas for Orange, Red, and Blue are in early stages at the moment. Not entirely sure what to do with Pink yet.

[gutsposting]

The Coven in the Woods, Pt. 2

“Must've been one Hell of a dream…” Patrick O’hallerans’ voice was run ragged from the constant chain smoking he managed to keep up during their six hour ride. Not one second was spent without a lit one hanging from his mouth. His passenger had fallen asleep in his seat about ten minutes after the car had started. Patrick expected Gordon to start his deranged sleep talking as soon as they hit the highway, he could have set his watch to it.

“How close are we?” Gordon eventually managed to speak, rubbing his eyes and hoping that they were far enough away that he could get some more rest. Blinking away the tears from yawning, he took a moment to admire the sunrise. Instead of the typical baby blue, the sky this morning was a blend of oranges and purples.

“Ten minutes, maybe less… We definitely missed it, though.” Pat never kept his eyes on the road. He was trying to meet Gordons’ eye rather than focusing on the winding, run-down path walled by ancient pines. 

“Okay…” Just as he shut his eyes again, his driver hollered. First he violently jerked the wheel to the right, and then abruptly left so hard that Gordons’ head smacked against the window. “Hey! Pay attention to what you’re doing! Are you drunk already?” Gordon obnoxiously sniffed in his direction. “I can never tell… You always stink.” 

Pat ignored him, and kept his eyes on the road. “Only one cop car. We missed the whole show.”

“It’s fine. You said you have a contact?”

“Yeah, if I can find him.” Pat pulled up next to the car, and the two saw the man leaning on a tree. “Want me to do the talking?” Their eyes met for a moment. Gordon still thought he was drunk, but as far as he knew the cops in this town were all drinking this early too. 

“That’ll probably make it easier…” People who looked like Pat always had an easier time, especially around here, than people who looked like Gordon. “Just don’t be… Crazy”

Pat nodded, raising his eyebrow. “Crazy?” He smiled, “We’ll show him crazy.”

Gordon let Pat get out of the car first, and lit his first cigarette as he watched his partner walk up to the cop. It seemed to be going well, so he got out of the car too. The big cop immediately met him with a nasty stare.

“Who’s your friend, there?” A distinct Brooklyn accent spat out the words. ‘In a place like this?’ Gordon thought to himself. The cop was even wearing the type of cap that an officer from the city would be wearing, lacking the round wide-brimmed hat that Southern cops were typically seen in. 

“He’s my assistant… We served together, in the war you know? Well, not together, but… Well, anyways, where are the park rangers, son?”

“They was the first to leave.” He said, never taking his eyes off of Gordon. “We handled everything already.”

“What did you find?”

“Three bodies…” He drug into the ground with the tip of his shoe. “They probably got drunk… Started a fire that got too crazy. We have it all under control.”

“Can we go take a look?” Godrons’ deep voice seemed to boom loud enough that the birds hiding in the pines scattered as he spoke. 

The cop frowned. “What do I care? I’m done here.” He took his time to make his way back to his car, his eyes darting from Gordon to Pat, and then back again. Gordon ignored him, walking up to Pat and leading him up the hill.

“They left the car…” A brand-new Mercedes was sitting, the passenger door still wide open, off to the side of the road.

Gordon scoffed. “Something I’ve been seeing more of these days… They leave stuff lyin’ around so they can come pick it up later. No one makes a report on anything, and they just come by later to pick it all clean.” Patrick eventually began to take the lead, looking upwards in the trees. “Do you… Feel anything?”

“No… But I think I hear it.” He felt for the medallion hanging at his collarbone. “I doubt that they were able to finish.” Gordon loved the geography of West Virginia, but wished he could depopulate it of all the people who lived there.

The changing of the seasons reminded him of all the beautiful things his mother would tell him about God. It was like his hand had come down from heaven, and painted every leaf by hand so they could be maximally pleasant to the eyes of his favorite creation. 

However the people who lived here had never shown him anything except for scorn. Patrick had dragged him here after the war. ‘Fertile ground’ he had insisted. From the perspective of their fledgling business, it certainly was. Yet he found nothing to spend his money on except for run-down bars and dingy diners.

“Looks like they really stopped giving a shit today…” Pat mumbled. “Look here.” The footprints had all been muddled together. Perhaps a dozen officers had walked over one another's' tracks, had completely ruined the evidence left by whoever was the first to arrive, and had left paper coffee cups and cigarette butts strewn about. Patrick walked in circles, eyes locked onto the ground, around and around, looking for the original track or simply scrutinizing the sloppiness of the local police.

Gordon opened the door to the Mercedes, and began to search for any identification. Hardly anything had been left in or on the car except for the license plate. The drivers’ side tire had popped, and when he opened up the glovebox he found absolutely nothing. A small center console was also empty. He checked the trunk, even the engine compartment. No registration, insurance, owners manual or any piece of paper anywhere at all. 

He walked away from the car. Pat had wandered off, the cop finally drove away. Gordon looked around one last time, he tried to catch his breath. It was impossible. He couldn’t quite make it there, all the way to filling up his lungs to a satisfactory state. It was never enough, even when he was standing still. He found himself, for almost two minutes, standing completely still and staring off into space.  

[pinkacademic]

Other Colours in Pink Academia

Even if your favourite colour isn’t pink, we can still be friends- pink is a state of mind. I got an ask recently about PA but make it baby blue and I was inspired to give some character inspo for other colours than pink. Also, there is no visual more fabulous than a colour-coded squad looking like studious power rangers. I tried to list as many diffrent pieces of media as possible so so of these eg Heathers might apply to more than one colour, but I just wanted to give some variety.

Red: THEEEE look has to be Heather Chandler, whose most iconic look is totally the musical with a striking red blazer, a pleated, plaid red skirt, red argyle socks, and of course, the red scrunchie. Heathers invented the Pink Academia aesthetic. Another end of the red spectrum could be Clover from Totally Spies. My first thought for a Clover outfit is that bright red shirt/blouse and pink jeans combo which I think you could academia up with a more office-ready bottom- though I will not stop anyone from recreating the spy suit either. Orange: I'm not good at orange, I'm sorry! My first thought was Lisa in the As if its your Last music video, but that's just her hair. I think a cute, simple base with an orange hairband could get the vibe across. My favourite orange-coded characters have to be the mermaids from H2o- they were my childhood. Each girl has their own colour scheme, but the mermaid tails and weird scaly bra things were an orange-gold colour, so they count! I'd recreate this with a pencil skirt and a blouse with a tie detail like a pussycat bow maybe to evoke the same details- you could also try a bustier or corset belt. Yellow: I overlooked the Clueless matching sets in my analysis, BUT NOT TODAY! It is the ideal outfit to rference for yellow, and I'll DID YOU KNOW until the end of days that it was the inspiration for Ashley B in Recess. Alternatively, the iconic yellow ball gown Belle serves is the look to end all looks and I think you could do a cute academia-style Disneybound with an off-the shoulder peasant style top and poofy yellow skirt, and some pretty rose-themed accesories. Green: Not to be on-the-nose but Elphaba from Wicked can be emulated with a striking black blouse and skirt and simple black boots. You are obligates to wear green tights or socks with this one- and Zelena from Once Upon a Time has a Wicked (pun so very intended, please appreciate me) necklace that adds so much drama to a simple all-black outfit. If you love a good supervillain, Poison Ivy serves so much potential for a floral outfit with a green base. Her most famous look is a leotard, but you can add a little bit more of a classic academia sillhouette with a white blazer to evoke a doctor's lab coat. Blue: I've already done a whole inspo set on the Abbey Mount uniform from Wild Child which can be replicated with a grey blazer and a blue plaid skirt, but for other options, there's St Trinnians with an edgier version of a similar look, or the Worst Witch, if, like me, you're trying to reconcile your happy childhood memories of Harry Potter with... uh... current climes... The Worst Witch uniforms have the added fun of personalistiion with another colour to represent your house or year group. I'm still upset at the travesty that was Fate: a Winx Saga for doing my girls dirty. for a true blue Bloom inspired look, she has a cute pleated skirt in the earlier seasons. It looks to be denim, but you could go for a plaid or houndstooth to be more rigidly Academia about it, paired with yellow and some lovehearts for contrast and a girly twist, Bloom has a tonne of good looks in the later seasons too, I'm just not as well versed because I'm old! Purple: It has to be said, Twilight Sparkle serves a Pink Academia moment with a purple pleated skirt and lace-up boots. So-Called Sci-Twi rocks a sweater vest, and the Crystal Prep uniform consists of a berry-leaning purple plaid skirt, purple socks or tights, and beryy waistcoat or blazer with each character having their own spin on the uniform. If you were a Strawberry Shortcake kid like I was (only 2003 is valid because I'm old!) then all those girls served a look. My fave is Angel Cake, and to Academia-ify her outfit, I would use a purple stripy blouse, a deeper purple blazer or jumper as a nod to the 2007 version (the only other acceptable depiction!! jk... mostly) and some kind of bow detail to go woth her hair. Also, listen, we need to bring hats back into their full power again. Neutrals: Bro, Neutrals are the base for any good dark or light academia outfits, so all of your Austen girls, all of your Secret History or Kill your Darlings kind of looks belong here. But honestly, I think mostly of Twilightcore, and if I wanted to make Bella Swan a Pink Academia Girly, I'd go for a dark green cardigan, a brown plaid skirt, and a simple white t-shirt blouse. For Bella, it would have to be flat shoes because our klutzy girl could trip on air, we do not eed to elevate her. Something more modest such as toning the outfit down with thick brown tights or a skirt with a longer hem keeps a certain degree of her style, and I think over-sizing the cardigan so you can grab the ends gives the Bella vibe.

[chicgeekgirl89]

Ain’t that a Kick in the Dick

Fandom: 911 Lone Star

Characters: Carlos Reyes, Gabriel Reyes, T.K. Strand

Summary: A cop and a ranger walk into a barn...and it's possible neither will walk out alive. When Carlos and his father are taken hostage on their own property, it will take a lot more than their combined law enforcement skills to save them. Written for the @badthingshappenbingo​ prompt: Stitches.

A/N: In this fic you'll meet Francesca (Carlos' younger sister) and Adriana (his cousin). I made them up and I adore them to pieces so they're back. Special thanks to @bluenet13​ who loves these girls as much as I do and is always happy when I add them to my fic!

Read on AO3

“Thank you again for coming over today mijo,” Gabriel said as Carlos washed his hands at the kitchen sink. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

A large tree had fallen and taken out a significant amount of fencing around the property during a major storm last week. Carlos had come out on his day off to help straighten things out.

“I’m just glad I could help,” Carlos told him, reaching for a kitchen towel. “It felt good to put some of my ranching skills back into action.”

“Well that’s a change,” Gabriel said with a twinkle in his eye. “I seem to remember a time when it was very difficult to get you and your sisters to do chores.”

“Yeah, well, I had more important things to worry about back then,” Carlos told him, smiling. “Like baseball. And whose cows we were going to tip on Friday night.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “You and your friends really seemed determined to put me into an early grave sometimes.”

Something outside of the kitchen window caught Carlos’ eye and he frowned. “Did we leave the barn light on?”

Gabriel followed his gaze and sure enough light was glinting through the windows. “I didn’t think so.”

“I’ll go turn it off,” Carlos said, but Gabriel raised a hand to stop him. “No, no. I’ve got it. You already washed up. And better you get dinner started than me. If I do it we’ll be ordering take out.”

“You could learn to cook!” Carlos called after him.

“Old dog!” Gabriel yelled back.

Carlos chuckled and pulled the fish he’d brought from the refrigerator as well as some potatoes and ingredients for a salad. T.K. would be joining them for dinner, along with his sister Francesca and cousin Adriana. His mother was out of town for the weekend visiting her tía so it was up to Carlos to cook if they wanted to eat tonight. 

He spent about fifteen minutes with the fish and then checked his watch with a frown. Walking back to the window he could see the barn light was still on. Maybe his dad had gotten distracted?

He gave it another five minutes, washing up the potatoes and sticking them in the oven before he checked again; light still on, no sign of his father.

Concern niggled at the back of Carlos’ mind. His dad was getting older, what if he’d fallen in the barn or was having a heart attack or something? He’d said his hypertension was under control but…

Carlos glanced at his watch again then decided there was no point in standing there worrying. He’d go help his dad with whatever project he’d jumped into and come back in time to cook the fish.

The air was starting to cool as the sun set, the sky streaked with orange, purple, and stars already starting to prick pinholes in the darkness to come as Carlos walked back out toward the barn. “I thought we said we weren’t going to worry about those other posts tonight,” Carlos called as he came within reach of the open barn door.

There was no response. “Dad?” he said, reaching to pull the door wider.

Someone groaned and fear flared in Carlos’ chest as he yanked the door wide and found his father sprawled on the floor blood covering one side of his face. “Dad!” 

Carlos started toward him but Gabriel held up a hand. “Carlos,” he said weakly, “behind you.”

Carlos turned and immediately ducked, a shovel just barely missing his own head. “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” he yelled, backing up, hands held high. “What the hell is going on here?”

“See Elliot? I told you he was lying about other people being in the house,” a man said, the shovel still held in both his hands. Carlos caught a glimpse of a gun tucked into his belt. “Not good Major Reyes, not good.”

“You were right Bobby,” a second man, presumably Elliot, said, stepping out of the shadows, a handgun held loosely at his side. “Can’t trust a Texas Ranger as far as you can throw ‘em.”

“Let him go,” Gabriel wheezed. “He’s just a ranch hand.”

“A ranch hand who calls you dad? Nice try,” Elliot said with a roll of his eyes. 

“Whatever is going on here, I’m sure we can sort it out,” Carlos said eyeing them warily, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. “Whatever you want we are happy to give you.”

“Can you give us the last fifteen years back?” Bobby asked with a sneer.

This was personal. Shit. Carlos glanced down at his father. “Whatever you’re thinking of doing, it’s a bad idea,” Carlos said calmly. “He’s a Texas Ranger. And I’m an APD officer. Whatever happened in the past, I think you want it to stay there.”

“Well you think wrong,” Bobby snapped. “Your papi there stole our entire lives from us. I got three kids and they think somebody else is their daddy now. And Elliot, you shoulda seen what he went through in jail. It was hell. And that’s on you Gabriel.” He dropped the shovel to his side and pulled out his own pistol. “You need to pay for what you’ve done.”

“I did what was right,” Gabriel said, his voice tight with pain. “You held up a bank. Three people were wounded. One of them will never walk again.”

“If they had just done what we told them nobody would have gotten hurt!” Elliot yelled, bringing the gun coming up to point at Gabriel’s face. “You should have let us go!”

Carlos moved to stand between the gunman and his father. “Listen,” he said, hands still held out placatingly. “You’ve obviously been released. You have a second chance. An opportunity to start over. An opportunity you will lose if you hurt us.”

Bobby cocked his gun threateningly. “And what exactly makes you think I care?”

Carlos thought about the girls and T.K., all of whom would be arriving within the next hour. He didn’t want them caught up in this and he knew his dad didn’t either. They needed to end this quickly, one way or another. So he squared his shoulders and took a breath. “Well go ahead then. What are you waiting for?”

“They can’t,” Gabriel ground out from behind him. “They need their third team member. Jade Thurgood. She’ll want to be a part of this.”

“And she’ll be here within the hour,” Elliot said. “So let’s all just get comfortable.”

It turned out ‘getting comfortable’ meant getting tied up. Something Carlos vehemently objected to. As soon as Elliot got close enough with the rope Carlos head butted him, causing him to rear back with a shout of pain.

Carlos started toward him again, intent on taking him to the ground, but the cock of Bobby’s gun brought him up short. Not because it was aimed at him, but because it was pointed directly at his father’s head. “Do that again and I kill him without giving you time to say goodbye,” Bobby threatened.

Elliot recovered and took out his anger by punching Carlos once in the ribs and then again in the face. Carlos doubled over in pain as Elliot began to tie the rope around his wrists. “Don’t do that again,” he hissed, his sour breath turning Carlos’ stomach. 

Soon Carlos was seated on the floor, back to back with his father. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly as Bobby and Elliot pulled out a deck of cards, clearly intent on enjoying themselves while they waited.

“Well I’ve got a hell of a headache,” Gabriel told him. “But I’m all right. I’m sorry mijo, I didn’t mean to get you dragged into this. I knew they were out on parole, but I never imagined…”

“This is not your fault,” Carlos told him fiercely. “You’re not responsible for keeping track of every bad guy you’ve ever locked up.”

“Still,” Gabriel said, “you shouldn’t be here like this, so listen to me. If you get the chance to escape, you take it. Don’t worry about me.”

Carlos clenched his jaw. “I am not leaving you here with them.”

“Carlitos, I am your father and you will do as I say,” Gabriel whispered sharply. 

Carlos ground his teeth feeling for all the world like a teenager being told he couldn’t hang out with his friends on a Friday night. But he wasn’t a kid anymore. He was a grown man. And he wasn’t leaving his father here to be murdered.

Time passed slowly, Elliot and Bobby frequently checking their phones as Carlos’ nerves mounted. T.K. and the girls could be here at any minute. They had to get out of here or…or end it so that Bobby and Elliot would leave. 

Despite his insistence, his dad’s breathing was labored and his responses had slowed. Carlos kept his eyes on Elliot and Bobby as he worked his hands back and forth. He could feel blood dripping down his wrists, but with every twitch and pull the ropes began to loosen just a fraction. If he could get free he could…well he wasn’t sure what he could do. At the very least he’d have the element of surprise. If he could take one of them down and grab their weapon quick enough, he might have a chance. 

In the midst of his thoughts Carlos felt his father go limp against his back. “Dad,” he muttered, but his father didn’t answer and Carlos panicked. “Dad! Hey!”

It caught the attention of their captors and Carlos ceased his efforts with the ropes as Elliot stalked close. “He’s not dead,” Elliot said. “Just passed out. Don’t worry. We’ll make sure he’s awake for the end. I think we’ll kill you first. Make him watch. Teach him what it’s like to suffer.”

If Carlos could have killed him with a look he would have. Elliot gave him an evil smile before returning to his card game while Carlos redoubled his efforts. 

Gabriel groaned and Carlos nudged him. “Dad, hey!”

“What happened?” Gabriel asked.

“You passed out,” Carlos said. “Still want to tell me that head wound isn’t bad?”

“Well head wounds are never good.” Gabriel was quiet for a minute and then, “Carlos, listen to me. If we don’t—“

“No,” Carlos said, cutting him off, ignoring the fiery pain in his wrists as he pulled harder and harder.

“Mijo it’s okay,” Gabriel said calmly. “It’s okay. If this is my time, it’s okay. I have no regrets. Nothing that I would change. You, your mother, your sisters, this life is all I’ve ever wanted. I know that maybe I don’t say it enough, but I am so proud of you. I love you. My son, my boy.”

Carlos felt hot tears fill his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. “Shut up,” he hissed. “We’re getting out of here. Both of us. Can you get free at all?”

“I’ve been trying,” Gabriel said. “Bobby must have taken knot tying classes.”

“Well I’m almost there,” Carlos said. “When I’m out I’ll work on yours—“

“Where the hell is she?” Bobby said loudly, chucking his phone down onto a hay bale. “She’s late.”

“She’s always late,” Elliot said.

“Well the longer we wait, the more likely things are to get complicated,” Bobby griped. “I say we just do it.”

“She wants to watch. Give her fifteen more minutes,” Elliot told him.

“I’ll give her five,” Bobby said.

A quiet tapping pulled Carlos’ attention to a window just to his left. To his complete and utter horror he saw Francesca peeking in at him.

“Get out of here!” he mouthed frantically, but she shook her head and held up two fingers. “Two minutes,” she mouthed back. “Be ready.”

Be ready for what? Carlos shook his head frantically. “Call 911.”

But she was already gone leaving Carlos to yank his hands painfully free of his ropes in a burst of adrenaline and fear. 

There was a loud bang from outside the barn and both their captors jumped to their feet. “What the hell was that?” Bobby asked, walking toward the door.

Carlos was up and moving before he could even fully form a plan. The only thing he had on his side was surprise and he fully intended to use it, running at Elliot and bowling him over. 

The gun went flying from the criminal’s grip and Carlos almost had him pinned, but then Elliot’s knee came up and caught Carlos in the groin, choking the breath from his lungs and giving Elliot the chance to roll away. He came up with a knife in his hand and immediately swiped at Carlos. He felt the blade sink deeply into his bicep, this new pain superseding the breathless agony of a few seconds ago.

A second swipe was aimed at his midsection and Carlos managed to roll away so the blade only just caught him in the side. 

There was a gunshot and then Francesca’s voice shouted, “Drop that knife! Drop it right now or I swear to god I will put a bullet in you so fast! I’m the daughter of a Texas Ranger and the sister of an APD officer I know exactly what I’m doing!”

Carlos laid on his back as the knife thumped to the ground beside him. “Get on your knees. ON YOUR KNEES!” Francesca bellowed, whipping a pair of handcuffs out of nowhere. “Put those on right now!”

“Carlos!”

A new voice joined the chaos and the next thing he knew T.K. was beside him. “Dad!” Carlos gasped trying to twist around and see him.

“I’m okay,” Gabriel called out, still seated on the floor with his hands bound. 

Francesca doubled checked Elliot’s cuffs and then walked toward their dad to set him free. 

“They hit him in the head,” Carlos said, looking frantically at T.K. “You need to check him out.”

“Right now I’m more concerned with how much you’re bleeding,” T.K. said, worry on his face as he clamped his hands around Carlos’ arm. “Did he get you anywhere else?”

Carlos looked down and felt a jolt of concern as he realized how much blood was streaming from the knife wound. “My side I think.”

T.K. used one hand to lift his shirt and glance at the wound over his ribcage. “Okay that one’s not too bad, let’s try and get the bleeding stopped on your arm first.”

“We need to get out of here,” Gabriel told Francesca as she cut through his bonds. “There’s someone else coming—“

“Woman? About five foot four? Brown hair? Yeah don’t worry about her,” Francesca said. “Adriana’s got her tied up at the house.”

Carlos blinked a few times. “What?”

“We got here the same time as T.K.,” Francesca said. “When we went in the house we saw all the food and no one around. You never leave dinner unattended, so we started looking around and that’s when we found that psycho bitch. Dropped her. Cuffed her. Then came to rescue you. Which by the way you almost screwed up,” she said pointedly at Carlos. “I told you two minutes.”

“How was I supposed to know what you meant? Also are you crazy?” Carlos asked. “You should have called 911 and waited.”

“And left you to die? I don’t think so. This was a kickass or be ass kicked situation,” Francesca said.

“For the record I was against kicking any ass, but I also really didn’t want you to die,” T.K. told him as he ripped off the bottom of his shirt and tied it tightly around the wound in Carlos’ bicep. 

“And we did call 911,” Francesca said. “They’ll be here in a minute. We’re just faster and better. Besides, T.K. basically is 911.”

Carlos was starting to feel a little woozy and his uninjured hand came up to grasp the front of T.K.’s shirt. “Breathe babe,” T.K. instructed. “You’re going to be okay. Some stitches, some ice, we’ll get you all sorted out.”

“Where’s Bobby?” he asked, still not convinced that half his family wasn’t about to be murdered. 

“That other guy?” Francesca asked. “Cuffed outside. And missing part of his ear. I meant it to be a warning shot, but he moved.” She shrugged. “Not my fault.”

Carlos could hear sirens in the distance and the adrenaline finally began to fade as the reality of safety set in. They were all right. 

“Okay this one’s already clotting,” T.K. said as he probed at the laceration over Carlos’ ribs. “What else hurts?”

“Um,” Carlos couldn’t really think of a place that didn’t hurt. “He punched me in the face, the ribs, kneed me in the groin.”

“Dude!” Francesca got to her feet and stalked toward Elliot, kicking him sharply in the shin. “You kicked my brother in the balls? That’s an asshole move you asshole!”

“Yeah he also stabbed him in the arm, which is a little more concerning,” T.K. said, checking his makeshift bandage in alarm. “Do you maybe want to go outside and get the ambulance to put a rush on it out here?”

“Tell other people how to do their job? It would be my pleasure,” Francesca told him. She paused briefly to kiss Carlos on the top of the head. “Don’t die before I get back okay? It was kind of a lot of work to rescue you and it’s not going to sound very good if I’m trying to tell this story and you die at the end.”

“I’ll do my best,” Carlos said faintly.

“You okay if I go check on your dad?” T.K. asked as Francesca walked outside.

“Yeah, yes, please go look at him,” Carlos said anxiously. 

“Okay. Here, hold this tight.” T.K. placed Carlos’ hand over his own and then shifted until Carlos was the one holding the makeshift bandage in place. He started to get to his feet and then paused and pressed a kiss to Carlos’ forehead. “Love you.”

Carlos closed his eyes, leaning into his boyfriend as he relished the feeling of safety being with him brought. “Love you too.”

                                          XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“It’s not delivery, it’s DiGiorno,” Adriana announced several hours later as she passed out paper plates of frozen pizza. “Everybody eat up.”

“I still think you should have let me cook,” Carlos said. “It wouldn’t have taken that long.”

“First of all you passed out in the ambulance from blood loss,” Francesca said as she took a bite. “Second of all those potatoes are like charcoal briquettes now. Not appetizing. Also it’s ten o’clock. No one wants fish at ten o’clock.”

“Okay but dessert? I just have to whip the cream—“

“Absolutely not,” T.K. said firmly. “You are not getting off this couch tonight.”

“You have thirteen stitches in your arm,” Adriana reminded him.

“And that dude basically destroyed your balls,” Francesca said. “That alone requires a night of recovery. I mean the emotional toll that must have taken…”

“I’m going to kill you,” Carlos told her with a glare.

“Not if I shoot you first. Which you now know I could do. Very easily,” Francesca told him.

“No one is shooting anyone else tonight,” Gabriel finally intervened. “Although I am very impressed with what you girls pulled off. And very grateful.”

“You’re welcome Tío,” Adriana said then turned and looked at Carlos expectantly. “Cousin?”

“What?” Carlos asked. 

“Thank you Adriana and Cesca. I’m so grateful to you for saving my life. I am but a lowly police officer and you are heroes sent from above,” she said, pitching her voice low in an imitation of Carlos. “Thank you for saving my dick so I could continue to have sweaty, hot, manly sex with my boyfriend.”

“Okay,” T.K. said quickly, throwing a glance at Gabriel. 

“You got me stabbed!” Carlos yelled.

“You got yourself stabbed by going too early!” Francesca yelled.

“You should never have—ah!” Carlos closed his eyes, his body going rigid as he tried to sit up and felt his stitches pull, his ribs ache, and the black eye he was sporting start to throb again.

“That’s enough!” Gabriel said. “Girls, go to your room!”

They both gaped at him. “We saved your lives! And you’re sending us to my room?!” Francesca cried. 

“You are currently mobile while the rest of us are not,” Gabriel said. “Take your dinner and go.”

“Oh my god, so typical,” Francesca growled as she picked up her plate. “Perfect little Carlitos, poor baby, never gets in trouble a day in his life.”

“Go faster,” Gabriel ordered.

“Idiota,” Francesca growled as she walked past her brother.

“Mensa,” Carlos shot back. 

Gabriel waited until they were out of the room before pushing himself to his feet. “I think I will also retire,” he said. “Your mom is going to be home in the morning and I would like to be fresh faced when she gets here. Might soften the blow a bit.”

“Are you good to go on your own?” Carlos asked worriedly. 

“I am steady on my feet and have clearance from the doctors,” Gabriel said. “It’s a mild concussion. I’ll be fine.”

He reached out and shook T.K.’s hand. “Thank you again for your help tonight.”

“Anytime,” T.K. said. “Although I hope nothing like this happens again.”

“Me too. Buenas noches.”

“Come here,” T.K. said when Gabriel had disappeared, inviting Carlos to rest his head in his lap. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore,” Carlos admitted. “Everything hurts.”

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” T.K. said with a sigh. “Both of you.”

“Yeah I was really worried about my dad for a minute there,” Carlos said.

“Oh,” T.K. said. “Yeah him too. But I was talking about you and little Carlos.” Carlos looked up to find mischief all over his boyfriend’s face and he groaned. “You don’t get to spend anymore time with my sister or my cousin.”

“Little Carlos is very important to me!”

“This is too much discussion about my dick in my parent’s house,” Carlos said. “Talk about something else.”

“Like how you scared the shit out of me tonight?” T.K. asked, his tone turning serious as he toyed with one of Carlos’ curls. 

“Sorry,” Carlos said. “I didn’t ever want you to know what having your boyfriend be held hostage felt like.”

“Yeah I don’t think I fully understood how stressful that could be until now,” T.K. told him.

“Not an experience we need again?”

“Definitely not.”

[mythicandco]

Can you do a quick drabble involving Marcy being a princess at a fancy Newt ball?

Marcy had only been in Newtopia for, what? A couple of weeks? A month? Two months? Either way, as excited as she was to be attending a royal ball, she was surprised at how sudden the invitation was.

"Nonsense!" Andrias had laughed in his typical amiable way. "You're a guest of the king, Marcy, and Chief Ranger of the Knight Guard! It would be practically criminal to not allow you to attend an event or two."

So now she was with Lady Olivia, the latter of which was fussing over what she should wear.

"You'd look beautiful in green, of course," the turquoise newt mused more to herself than to the human girl who awkwardly stood off to the side. Lady Olivia turned her eyes up to Marcy for a moment then tossed a flowy (and honestly quite beautiful, in Marcy's opinion) dress off to the side. The pearls attached to it clinked together slightly as it landed on the bed. "Orange is not your color, dear."

Shuffling around some more dresses, Marcy caught sight of a light blue one she quite liked. "Maybe this one, Lady Olivia?"

But the noble made a tsk, tsking noise and held it out of her reach. "This is a formal event, Master Marcy."

"Looks formal enough to me," Marcy made a grab for the dress again, and this time Olivia stepped back.

"No, no, it simply won't do. Ah!" She pulled out a beautiful purple dress, little shells decorating the rim of the skirt. "Perfect."

Marcy blinked, but Olivia was already helping her take off her ranger armor and get into the dress. It felt silky and smooth against her arms and Marcy had to admit, she did look amazing in it.

"Whoa," she said in awe, spinning around. "Thanks, Lady Olivia."

"All in a day's work, my dear," the Newtopian noble smiled proudly.

~~~

Marcy had thought she was ready for the ball with Olivia’s outfit choice, but she was wrong. 

The very first thing she saw was that everyone was wearing jewelry. Bedazzled earrings, a gem-studded bowtie, even an extravagant, gaudy headdress she was certain would fall off the newt wearing it at any moment but never did. 

It wasn’t hard to find King Andrias in the crowd (partially due to his massive size, and partially due simply to the fact that everyone was talking to him and he was chatting happily back, as any good host does), and despite the crowd Marcy made her way to him. Despite the fact he was hardly wearing anything fancy, he still seemed to fit in perfectly with the other overdressed nobility. Somehow, Lady Olivia was already by his side, covered in pearls, watching the gathered Amphibians as though looking for someone in particular. 

“Ah, Marcy, you made it!” Andrias clapped his hands excitedly, motioning from her to the other nobles. “Everyone, this is Chief Ranger Marcy Wu. Marcy, why don’t you say hello?” 

Suddenly too many eyes were staring at her, and all the brilliant words Marcy usually could say evaporated from her mind. “Uh-uh, h-hey, hello, everyone,” she waved weakly, her stomach churning with butterflies and other insects. She swallowed thickly. “N-nice to m-meet all of y-you, this is a - a really nice party, huh?” 

She caught wind of a few hushed whispers about her strange appearance and shrunk into herself. Luckily, Andrias swooped in to save the day. 

“Marcy, I’d like you to meet General Yunan, Scourge of the Sand Wars, Defeater of Ragnar the Wretched, and the youngest newt ever to achieve the rank of general in the Great Newtopian Army,” he waved a tall, orange newt over. She was wearing Newtopian armor adorned with medals and had a small purple flower pinned in her hair. Andrias leaned down to whisper loudly into Marcy’s ear, “she’s very proud of all of her titles.” His breath smelled a bit like honey. 

As General Yunan (Scourge of the Sand Wars, etc.) approached the king, she bowed deeply. “Your Majesty.” Looking up, she smiled at Lady Olivia, who did a surprisingly terrible job of hiding her blush. “M’lady.” 

“General, why don’t you and Marcy get antiquated?” Andrias grinned. “She’s been on royal business for the last couple of weeks, but she’s back now. In fact, this ball is partially in her honor. Always the humble one, she didn’t want us to mention a dedication. I thought you two would get along well.” 

“Hiya,” Marcy smiled weakly. “I’m Marcy.” 

“General Yunan, Scourge of the-”

“Marcy, why don’t you g and try some of the appetizers?” Lady Olivia suggested. “Yunan can show you her favorites.” The general grinned. 

“Indeed! I, Genera-” 

“Yunan.” Olivia shot her a significant look. The general’s expression fell, but only a little bit. 

“Right. Sorry.” 

“So,” Marcy began as the two headed towards the buffet table, “how long have you been a genera?” 

“Since the Sand Wars,” Yunan replied, grabbing something that looked like a dark blue shrimp and popping it into her mouth with a loud crunch. Marcy knew that had been a few years ago, but it really didn’t clear much up. 

“You defeated Ragnar the Wretched?” she asked instead. Marcy had read about him a bit in some recent Newtopian history books, and now that she thought about it, she vaguely remembered Yunan’s name popping up once or twice. 

“Bastard,” responded the general conversationally, offering a pale worm-like creature to Marcy. She shook her head, feeling a bit sick. Yunan shrugged and took a bite out of it. “Say, Marcy, what sort of a creature are you?” 

“Oh. I’m a human, from Earth,” Marcy’s thoughts immediately swerved around to Anne and Sasha. I hope they’re okay. “I ended up here on accident.” That was a lie. “I have no idea how to get home, but Andrias has been so nice and helpful.” 

“That’s the king for you,” Yunan chuckled. “Always taking in stragglers off the streets. That’s how I ended up as general, did you know that?” 

Marcy shook her head. Though, to be fair, she knew almost nothing about General Yunan, Scourge of the Sand Wars, Defeater of Ragnar the Wretched, youngest newt ever to achieve the rank of general in the Great Newtopian Army, and definitely in love with Lady Olivia (besides the obvious, of course). 

A servant walked by with a platter of bug appetizers, and Yunan gave Marcy a nudge. “Ooh, these are my favorites. Just try one.” 

As the servant turned to walk away, Marcy hesitated. Hey, I’m stuck in an alternate dimension, she thought. Might as well give it a try. She plucked one off the tray and chewed for a moment. 

“Whoa.” Marcy grabbed the rest of them, shoveling them into her mouth. A few nobles gave her sideways glances, but she ignored them. 

“No kidding, huh, kid?” Yunan was beaming now. Suddenly her head shot up, and both newt and girl turned to look at Andrias, who was waving at them. “Well, pleasure to meet you, Marcy, but my king needs me. Same time next ball?” The general winked, and Marcy grinned back. 

“Sure thing.” 

[bearcina]

Aetherwave Attraction

Zora Blackwood/Female Captain

(AO3)

A sweet sleepover brings a sweet confession.

Fluff. Sleepovers. Wine. Drunken confessions. Love confessions. Zora/Ophelia/ADA by extension.

"Captain, shall I prepare the serial?" ADA asked, already skimming files. She was thinking about playing Space Hospital, or maybe the thrilling Terror on Monarch series again.

"Yes, please. Could you put on Space Hospital, Zora loves it." Ophelia requested, tugging her tall purple socks up again. "Did you make sure we sent that invite on Monarch time?" She wondered, slipping into her oversized Rizzo's Rangers shirt.

"As you wish, I will continue the serial from the previous viewed episode. As for the invitation, I did correct it to Monarch time, and informed her of the time difference on the ship." ADA replied easily.

Ophelia had renovated her quarters some time back, removing the bed cubby for a larger mattress to fit her partners, and more importantly, she had light-blocking curtains installed, a projector fitted to play on the wall, and many more cameras for ADA.

"That's great, thank you, ADA." Ophelia praised. She was already walking out of the bedroom to the kitchen, ready to retrieve a few bottles of cold purpleberry wine for the evening.

"My pleasure, Captain."

"Captain, Zora has arrived. Would you like me to unlock the hatch, or will you be going down?" ADA asked, looking out in the late Monarch night at the leader waiting in moonlight. Zora was yawning, adjusting her grip on her gun, and looking around blearily.

"I'll go on down, thanks!" Ophelia squealed, running on down to the heavy hatch door.

"Zora! Hi!" She greeted cheerily. "I'm so glad we could have another serial night, it's been a while!" Ophelia moved to let her friend in.

"Captain, it's always a pleasure." Zora grinned, walking in and setting her heavy gun down by the lockers. "ADA, it's been quite a while." She greeted the astrogator, stepping into the doorway to see her terminal.

"Greetings, Zora. You are unharmed, good." ADA returned, smirking. "It would be a shame if you were, Captain Ophelia would be distraught." She was fired up today, it seemed.

"Oh, hush, you!" Ophelia squawked, grabbing the hem of her shirt with embarrassment. Zora just chuckled, leaned back against the doorframe.

"I'm glad you're worried for my wellbeing, Captain. I would be inconsolable if you were harmed, too. Can't have you running off and leaving my couch cold." Zora quipped, looking over to her left at Ophelia with a smirk. The way she slowly flushed red was endearing.

"I, ah..." Ophelia stammered, quickly looking off out the cockpit windows behind her. "ADA, why don't you get us up in the air, we need to go see that asteroid event!" She squeaked, inching past Zora to the Captain's chair to insert the special navkey.

"I know the event is tomorrow evening, ship time, so we have all morning for wine and serials!" Ophelia grinned. "Ship time is... Eight hours behind Monarch time? ADA?"

"Nine and a half hours, Captain. The ship time had been calibrated to Welles' Laboratory time when you and the scientist began working together." ADA interjected.

"Ah, thanks, ADA!" Ophelia spun around to grab the full wine glasses, one in each hand. "We have another thirty-four hours until the peak of the event. It's a long ride out, though, so make yourself at home." She gave one of the glasses to the quiet leader who nodded.

"I've got plenty of good company, then." Zora sighed, sipping the bitter-tart wine. She set it gently down on the desk and turned around to Ophelia who was getting cozy on the bed, tucking her feet up under her black blanket.

Ophelia smiled back at her, and leaned back into her nest of pillows.

Zora untucked her orange Iconoclast cowl and set it down on the corner of the bed, then started unbuckling armor.

Ophelia watched her silently, sipping from her own cup of wine. Her eyes wandered up and down Zora's toned body, taking in the sight.

She stripped down to her bloodstained tank top and underwear, then slipped into the soft grey sweatpants from her bag. Ophelia thought she looked wonderful.

"Alright, let me see what you two picked." Zora hummed, taking the few steps to the headboard of the bed and slipping in beside the extravagant space captain.

"Space Hospital, again... I know you like it, and well, it doesn't all completely fly over my head." Ophelia said, and ADA started playing when both girls got settled into the cozy bed.

They had been cuddling for hours, the serial long since over for the evening. Ophelia had worked through the bottles of wine with Zora, then they did shots of Spectrum Red while playing drunken chess, and had finished it off with an adventure in drunkenly cooking dinner.

"Hey, Ophelia, I'll be back in a minute, gonna get a snack." Zora sighed, wiggling out of Ophelia's weak grasp. The Captain frowned, and let go.

"Well, alright... Get me something sweet, then." Ophelia sighed back, rolling over onto her stomach in the absence of the strong leader.

Zora left quietly.

Zora did not go to the kitchen. Instead, she quietly shut the door after her, and requested ADA to keep Ophelia company.

She felt out of her depth, standing there at the railing. She leaned back against the pole nearest her, and crossed her arms.

Zora sighed, staring out in the distance.

She had been plagued by more and more thoughts, particularly of the relationship she had with Ophelia.

Of course, Zora wasn't dating the dashing Captain, they were just close friends.

They had sleepovers, and if Ophelia was on Monarch, she was sure to drop in to share supplies and a few cold drinks. Zora enjoyed her company. Even when Ophelia would ask to take her out, she always felt at home when they were together.

It was almost impossible for them to go long without communication, Ophelia would call, or Zora would, or they exchanged messages.

It was obvious that they were inseparable, and whatever they had was beyond just being friends.

Zora felt particularly guilty about ogling Ophelia's curves and thighs, especially if she was in her sultry sleepwear. She had been caught looking at the outline of the captains nipple piercings more than once, and Ophelia just smirked and puffed out her chest even more. Zora loved to cuddle her chest almost more than the delight of taking a break off-world with her, Ophelia always felt like a perfect weight against her and she never failed to fall right to sleep at night.

Ophelia was just as bad, she was almost caught sniffing the orange cowl Zora wore, in fact, she was almost caught multiple times. She would also stare at her with a dreamy and lost look when they shared hunts on Monarch, sitting across from her from the fire. Ophelia would sit there and take sips from her flask and take her time admiring her scar, then trail down her neck, biting her lip a little as she stared at where Zora's cowl didn't hide her collarbone.

It was simple, Zora thought, she didn't want to be without Ophelia, because they fit so perfectly. It was like they were attuned to eachother in a way no one else was, and this night had shown it.

This wasn't even their first serial sleepover, in fact, they had been regularly having them for years.

Soon after they had first met, Ophelia had muttered something about having never seen a serial, and Zora was all too eager to bring her back to her own home to show her Space Hospital over dinner.

They had been inseparable since then, with Ophelia divulging much of her own tale, and Zora helping her adjust to the new life in Amber Heights.

It was like coming home every time she came aboard the ship, ADA always greeted her while she shucked her boots off and stowed her gun, and if Ophelia was visiting her in Amber Heights, she just made herself cozy on the couch and got her own blankets.

Well, shit.

Zora did eventually turn and go up the stairs and to the kitchen. She made a warm cup of a soothing fruity tea and sat at the off white table with trembling hands. She didn't know what to do, Ophelia had worked her way deep into her heart and she didn't want her to leave.

She took a long drink of the warm tea, the heat of it warming her throat when her tears were cooling down her face.

Zora didn't want to lose Ophelia, the trips they had together were some of the best memories she had, and there were so many more they could have if they stayed together.

She didn't want to actually face the truth that she already knew, she loved Ophelia, and she loved her so deeply it hurt to think of her with someone else, too.

Zora didn't want anyone else to have her undivided attention, her dogged loyalty, or the stolen glances over firelight. But, Zora knew, that Ophelia and ADA loved eachother just as deeply and they wouldn't ever be separated.

If she thought about it, ADA was just as good of a friend, dogged in her loyalty and revenge. ADA had proven time and time again that she puts Ophelia above all else, and if something were to befall her captain, she was the first person to call.

"Zora, you have been gone from Ophelia for quite some time and have continued to look exceptionally worried. Is there something bothering you?" ADA asked, quietly coming in on the speaker.

Zora sighed and sat down her mug. She reached up and ruffled her hair, and reclined in her chair. She frowned.

"Unfortunately, there is. There's been a matter weighing heavy on my heart for some time now." Zora said, crossing her arms ove rher chest.

"Would it be of any benefit to speak to me about this matter?"

"I'm not sure. It's... Something very dear to my heart." The brunette sighed, and grabbed her tea again. It was in a silly Rizzo's mug, the one Ophelia was insistent on being lucky. It sent a pang through her chest, would someone else ever know how they found it at the factory in Cadcadia?

"If I may go out on a mataphorical limb, would the matter happen to pertain to Captain Ophelia?" ADA asked, getting it right. "You have been looking at her as if you were hiding a guilty secret." She chuckled.

"Well, yes. Really, it's like I can't get her out of my head, and I don't want to. But, I also know that.... That's your captain, and you two have something special." Zora confessed. She took another long drink of tea with a sigh.

ADA was quiet and pondered it a while.

"Ophelia speaks incredibly highly of you, and looks at you like you hung Olympus itself. I trust you with her, you have brought her back to me when many wouldn't have. I know that she loves you, just as she loves me in our own way."

Zora slunk back into the captains quarters some time later after ADA had asked for her to return. She had a new mug of trip-teaz, a relaxing one for bed.

"Hey, I thought you might like some tea." Zora said, spooking Ophelia.

"I didn't even hear you come back in!" Ophelia laughed, taking the warm mug. "But, yeah, thank you. We can split it, since it looks like you didn't bring yourself any." Zora nodded with a small smile, and climbed back into bed.

"Yeah, I had some before I came in... I got distracted in there." Zora confessed, she did have her own mug of tea while pulling herself together again.

"Everything okay, Zora? You've looked tense all day." Ophelia asked quietly, she set the mug on her bedside table and reached out to gently touch Zora's thigh.

"Well, I don't know." Zora sighed, putting her own hand atop hers. "I've just been doing a lot of thinking and meditating. Your invite got me excited to come out, and it had me thinking about our relationship. We've been attached at the hip since you came out to Amber Heights first, and now all these years later, we're still trying to figure out what we are and how we fit our lives together."

Ophelia frowned, and scooted a little closer.

"Yeah? It's got you worked up? I didn't mean to, I just get a little excited when we can free up and get out together..." Ophelia nervously replied.

"No, not like that. It's just that... I don't know where my life ends and yours begins. We're so close, I just can't think of what life I would have if you weren't in it so much. I can always look forward to that next message, call, and especially the days when you're there in Amber Heights with me." Zora said, looking nervous.

"Well, yeah! You're... You're like the Olympus to my Monarch. We're always in orbit of eachother, never far away and always there when it gets rough. I didn't want to give it a name, I... It felt like you would always be there, part of my life." Ophelia replied with a smile. She squeezed Zora's hand tightly. She wasn't the best with her words.

"Ophelia, I think what I'm trying to say here is that you've taken my heart, and I want you to keep it. I want to stay in your life now, and I have for a while. I've come to love you, your ship, and who we are together." Zora confessed, looking away with a flustered blush creeping in.

Ophelia smiled more, and she held in a squeal.

"Zora, you're one of the few people who understands me when no one else does." Ophelia giggled, she was still drunk, but it came from the heart. She scooted closer, pulling her blanket with her. She climbed into Zora's lap, gently cupping her scarred cheek and clumsily turning her head to look at her.

"I love you, Zora." Ophelia said sweetly, touching forheads.

"I... I love you too, Ophelia." Zora hummed. "But you're very drunk right now, and we'll have to talk again in the morning." She smiled.

"Yeah, I know. ADA will definitely make sure of it if you don't. She's been teasing me for weeks." Ophelia giggled. She grabbed Zora's face and pulled her in for a chaste kiss. "I'm exhausted."

[impossible-rat-babies]

morning after (junebug)

fallen hero | 3.6k words | chargestep (nb!step + m!ortega) | cw: brief suicidal ideation mentions + blood/gore mentions + mild suggestive mentions

most below the cut!

--

Pollux grumbles and grunts, hiking his pants up and over slim hips in a smooth motion, adjusting them around his waist once they’re buttoned and zipped up. His hip smarts a touch and he shift his weight from one foot to the other, rolling his ankle. It clicks like always does, his knee bowing and he straightens his foot to correct.

He smooths his hair back and off his neck into a meager bun, poking around at the mess of a bedroom they left the night before. Clothes tossed aside, socks rumpled on the floor next to one of Ortega’s expensive button downs in a rumpled heap. Pollux kicks it towards the overflowing laundry basket.

The sunrise from the open blinds washes the room in oranges and reds made more brilliant and saturated through the layers of industrial grime hanging over the city like a thick fog. It leaves a promise of a hot day to come, what with the heat haze already rippling out on the distant horizon; the sharp shine off the skyscrapers will wobble and wane by the time noon hits. It’s getting hotter with each summer, the AC straining and ceiling fans spinning.

Pollux reaches out and half closes the blinds and shut the curtains, turning the bedroom from orange and red to filtered blues and whites. He grabs his tank top from off the floor, mumbling to himself as he pulls it on. His sweater somehow ended up on the dresser and—

No wait, he remembers that one.

Dresser digging into his lower back, hands scrambling past the nice buttons on Ortega’s fancy shirt to feel his skin under his hands, heart pounding under his palm. Lips bruised from the dozens of kisses they had shared already from the front door to the hallway (oh the things that happened in that hallway). Ortega tasting like a thunderhead of ozone before a storm and sip of expensive whiskey.

He’d tried his best to not knock over any of the photographs--couldn’t say the same of Ortega of course--so he corrects one of them and straightens another. He tries not to look too hard at the seven year old faces staring back at him with wide toothy careless smiles. Ranger blue and sidestep teal as they started calling that particular brand of eye burning blue green.

A watch sits discarded next to his own rings; he slips those back on, flexing his crackling joints. A half empty bottle of cologne sits still knocked over. Pollux fixes that too and his fingers come away with the rich scent that will stay wash after wash—stuck in the splits of his nails and his fingerprints. Pollux rolls his shoulders, unconsciously rubbing the scar that’s there; the joint clicks and he grimaces.

There’s a creak as the bed shifts and Pollux yanks his sweater on over his head and glances back. He still remembers who this house belongs to, who is stirring in the bed.

Ortega’s legs move, fine white sheets sliding with him and his bare leg—ankle to calf to knee to the line of his thigh and oh is that a little hickey on the inside of his thigh?—slips out from under the sheet.

He wipes his wrinkling face, scratching his beard, his chest heaving with a deep breath and an even heavier sigh. Ortega’s hand drops, and his brown eyes blink open, blurry and bleary until the spot him. He turns his head, a sleepy smile turning his lips.

Pollux’s breath catches and stalls in his chest and oh Ortega knows what all those little motions do to him. How the sheets are dipping down his stomach, past his hips and—

It’s downright nasty what the sight is doing to Pollux’s stomach. It’s worse as he stretches, back arching and Pollux swallows hard.

Asshole.

“Morning...” Ortega’s voice is low, thick with gravely warmth.

“Hey lover boy.” Pollux replies smoothly, his voice surprisingly even as he adjusts his sweater.

“You’re leaving?” Ortega asks quietly, blinking more life into his expression.

“Can’t be languid in bed all day like you can.”

Pollux sits down on the bed beside him, sinking in close. Ortega reaches out like he’s an anchor, a weighty hand settling on his hip, thumb testing the hem of his shirt. Can never keep his hands to himself, huh?

“It’s only for a few more hours. It’s not even nine am yet, you know.”

Pollux rolls his eyes, leaning over top of him, trapping him in with a hand pressing into the bed beside his hip. His bare hip and Pollux rests his hand against him instead.

“And…?”

“That’s when reasonable people get up?”

Ortega is fishing, his hand creeping further up under Pollux’s shirt. Does he know the difference between skin, scar and tattoo just by the touch of his fingertips? His middle finger finds a gap between scars, trailing along sensitive skin. He’s kissed him there, that spot where hip meets thigh—left behind a welt and an aching reminder that not all kisses taste sweet.

It’s just like any other temptation. Pollux isn’t opposed to laying in bed for a few more hours (plans can be canceled easily when he’s his own boss), but there’s still the nagging little corner of his mind that tells him no. Don’t give into the temptation.

But, Ortega is so easy to want, especially with the grin he’s giving him, so familiar to the old parts of his brain. Pollux is relearning not to hate that face, to not thinks it’s a good place to punch him. He used to think about that a lot: punching him in that pleasing picture perfect toothy smile Ortega boasts.

Pollux is so used to his hands inflicting pain, knuckles tight (make sure to keep your thumb outside a clenched fist was what they first taught him) fingers taut. But Ortega keeps catching his viciously thrown fists, slipping his fingers into his white knuckle hold to spread his trembling hand apart. To lace their fingers together with hopelessly honest words like he won’t let him leave again—not without a fight.

He’s pulling his teeth, but Pollux handed him the tools to do that long ago. The ‘please tell me it’s okay to stop doing this, please tell me that you’ll stop me and that you’ll forgive me. You’ll be the only one who will forgive me and I can die happy if you’re the only goddamn one who will forgive him.’

He’s giving him a closed hand and Ortega’s taken more than that—tip toe up a scar to his elbow and around to touch his shoulder; he’s given so much more than just his hand and its infectious--terminal just under the skin.

Like the bruises be-speckling just above the barcode, or the naughtier line across the curve of his breast he spotted when he woke up. Or the ache in his thighs and more importantly the memories he’ll keep when the marks fade. Brown eyes in the dark, sharing the same air.

There’s marks on Ortega’s neck too, little dark purple oblong shapes Pollux left behind; he can’t count the number of times he’s kissed that one spot on the side of his neck. The dip next to his Adam’s apple, where he feels his pulse skip beneath his tongue and lips and the breathy exhale that always follows. A pleased hum and his voice asking him to keep going.

“You say that now...” Pollux tells him softly, curtains of red and peppered grey curls falling down the side of his neck, brushing against Ortega’s chest.

“Okay what if I promised that it was only going to be a few hours?” Ortega curls a little ringlet around his pinky finger.

Doubt fills Pollux’s face.

“Oh come on now, Lux...we can get up after a few hours and I’ll make us both some breakfast--whatever you want. And then, if you like, you can leave and I’ll only ask for one kiss.” He offers as a compromise, the look he’s giving far too earnest for it to be anywhere close to the truth.

“Only one kiss?” Pollux raises a brow. He traces Ortega’s cheek and he’s so warm it’s like the sun gathered beneath his skin.

“Well...if it’s just one long kiss, that counts right?”

“That’s called making out.”

“Not like you’ve had issues in the past making out in the front door where all my neighbors could see.”

Pollux groans.

“Last time I agree to something like that--”

“It’s not like that time you agreed to make out with me in the backseat of a taxi cab…”

“That was *one* time. And we were both drunk.”

He remembers how they both almost fell off the roof of the Ranger’s headquarters that night, juggling warm beers and half a bottle of fancy tequila they kept passing back and forth.

Ortega grins and oh no…

“We should try that again—get a cab to nowhere, or something fancier than that, and make out in the back. Or you know we could--”

Words silenced by a sudden kiss and a sharp inhale. Ortega exhales through his nose smooshed against his cheek, mumbling something else and Pollux pulls him in sharper to silence him. He tastes like sunlight, his teeth and tongue tingling. A broad palm against his spine, coaxing him in closer, lips pulling him in deeper.

Pollux’s hand cups his cheek, brushing hair away from his ear and along to the back of his neck. The first port of his magnificent spine against his palm and he grabs a handful of his hair. Ortega isn’t the only one who can pull and push and the little pleased sound he catches between his lips tastes delightful—potent. Honeyed lips and curses breathed against wet lips.

Pollux wants to keep holding him like this, have just a little taste of tender heat, the threat of a hand hovering over a lit stove, or letting a match burn down to the tips of his nicotine stained fingertips. Run his fingers over Ortega—touch, feel, taste, map—until he’s reminded that he can’t have this forever. He can’t keep dangling off the edge of a precipice, not when he craves how the wind feels rushing up to meet him during the blessed free fall.

“I guess I should talk like that more if you’ll kiss me like that again...” Ortega mumbles when Pollux pulls away and he snorts, shaking his head.

“Next time I’ll just tell you go shove it.” Pollux huffs against his lips, closing an eye as Ortega brushes a stray curl from out of his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah--I know.”

Arms easily wrap around him and pull him back down into the bed and Pollux grumbles, letting it happen and he buries his face into the side of Ortega’s neck. His own scratchy stubbly cheek presses against his rough skin. He smells like day old cologne. He’s warm—secure.

“You’ll still kiss me though?” Ortega mumbles against the side of his head and Pollux groans, tilting his head to look him in the eye. Brown eyes so deep he could drown.

“Your beard is scratchy...”

Ortega snorts.

“Your face is the one that’s scratchy--I take good care of my beard. When was the last time you shaved?” He rubs his chin against his forehead to tease and Pollux curses.

“God, fuck--shut up, quit rubbing your face on me and go back to sleep pretty boy.” He insists and Ortega laughs, pulling him back in.

--

They tumble out of bed a few hours later, Pollux righting his sweater and redoing his belt as he meanders down the short hallway and out into the living room. It’s brighter out and he squints, lazily tucking his hands up and underneath of his sweater to hide them.

He follows Ortega, eyes skimming over the leftover plates and a glass mug left on the coffee table. His battered cigarette box and matchbook sits beside a weeks old newspaper and an old Time magazine. He still gets them biweekly?

He pauses at one of the large glass windows, curtains only half closed. He brushes it open. The sun pounds against the glass and Pollux squints his eyes against the shimmering heat rolling off the high rise buildings towards the west. The shoot high into the sky, more following further until the cracked spine of the coast turns to failed developments and old chain link fence guarded ruins.

A few palm trees needing a good grooming, their fronds dipping low with the heat, the tops sun bleached beige. Just about the only plant that grows well here, save for the scrubby evergreen like trees and whatever people are willing to waste water on keeping alive. 

At least it’s a clear-ish day, the sky more blue than sickly yellow or congested grey today. It’ll only last a few more weeks before the winds die down and the city is left to cook alive in its industrial smog.

Further out towards the west, Pollux can almost see the shimmer of the ocean, a line of white hugging the horizon. Beneath that are all new beach homes—folks willing to capitalize on the new growing beaches or what remains of the old. The sand comes back softer each year, the ocean carving away her shoals, eddys and tide pools. She’s had four decades to heal--but people remember forever.

Down below (don’t look too hard now Pollux) cars slip on by, the nosy honking of buses, taxis and surely the occasional motorist weaving through the lunch rush traffic.

“You look like you’re thinking pretty hard.”

Pollux starts, taking a half step back from the window, eyes darting to Ortega. His brow scrunches, shyly holding the coffee cup out to him.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you--”

“No, it’s fine...” Pollux waves his hand. So what if he was thinking of how nice it would be to just lay on the hot asphalt road and wait for rush hour traffic to turn him into a wet smear? Which he wasn’t thinking about at all, no not at all.

Ortega looks like he’s biting the inside of his cheek, but gratefully he keeps his mouth shut.

“Coffee?” He offers and Pollux takes it with a quiet word of thanks. Ortega reaches up and pulls the curtains shut, removing the temptation.

“Are you okay?”

Pollux takes a sip and it burns his tongue, but he only shrugs. It’s as much of an answer as he’s willing to say; he isn’t up to the verbal chess match that staring longingly at a window would earn, the what he thinks he saw, or what he thinks he’s thinking about.

Ortega puts a hand on his shoulder before wrapping his arm around his shoulders instead. He places a kiss at the top of his head and mumbles something sweet and soft, guiding him away from the window and towards the kitchen.

“What do you want for breakfast, then?” He changes the subject so easily, giving Pollux the grace to pretend it doesn’t matter. “Or it is closer to lunch at this point. Whoops.” Ortega cringes, looking at the stove clock.

“You wanted to sleep in.” Pollux finds an unused countertop and he pulls himself up onto it. Ortega briefly gives him a look and Pollux responds in kind, Ortega giving up with a shake of the head, but the faintest of smiles. 

“What’s on the menu, lover boy? Lunch or breakfast?”

Ortega grabs a pan, twirling it around. “How about this: I’ll just make something and if you really hate it, we can get something ordered in.”

“A mystery brunch then?”

“More like lunch, but you’ve never complained.”

“At least food wise. You’ve given me plenty of reasons to complain otherwise.”

“Are you admitting you like my food?” Ortega looks over his shoulder at him from the fridge and Pollux rolls his eyes.

“Never said that I dislike your food, Ricky boy.” Pollux teases, hiding a smile behind his coffee. “Unless you count that one monstrosity you made.”

“Hey, that was partially your fault, Lux. I refuse to take the full blame for what happened to that poor casserole dish.”

“Wasn’t my recipe that you got wrong. And you let me play with your knives.”

“Mierda, I thought you were going to lose a finger.”

“Better than practically ruining your stove.”

“How was I supposed to know it was going to explode like that?”

Pollux snickers, tilting his head up to look at the ceiling, his head hitting the upper cabinent.

“Is that a speck of food still stuck up there...?”

He doesn’t quite catch the dish towel that hits up in the side of his head, Ortega swearing at him and Pollux snorts. He chuckles the longer Ortega keeps making that face until he dissolves into laughter.

And he keeps laughing. Lips wide and bright, rarely seen smile lines breathing back to life.

Ortega is looking at him, he knows, but he can’t fit the placid frown back onto his face just yet--letting the smile linger on his cheeks and the crinkles of his crows feet. It feels good and Ortega is smiling at him.

“Hey, Lux...” Ortega’s voice is so tender. “I love you. I love you a lot.” 

He says quietly once Pollux’s laughter has faded, leaving behind the tingle of it in the air. How it used to be so easy for Pollux to start laughing--how it’s only just now that he’s laughed again. He’s been so quiet, so still.

“You know that, right?”

The smile falters and Pollux takes a long drink of his coffee, the cup a disguise for what he hasn’t whispered back--not when he can hear. 

“I know…” He mumbles like it’s a substitution all his own and he swallows down the bitter bite of coffee.

He’s murmured it, barely spoken it in the dark when he’s sure Ortega is asleep. He isn’t ready for that admission, not in the light like this. The sunshine from the kitchen window warms the back of his neck.

Ortega looks like he wants to say more. To keep reminding him of how much he cares, how much it matters that he’s back in his life, how he wants to make up for seven years of not saying ‘i love you’--it’s all just synonyms. 

How many times has Pollux said it without saying it, too? He knows a hundred different ways to say it without anyone but him knowing it.

(Asshole, or I care about you too, or will you let me take care of you for once in your life, or please give me an excuse so I don’t have to keep remembering how much I hate walking down these perpendicular paths, inches away from intersection. Or the simple way his name tastes on his tongue, or a nickname held so dearly between his lips, inches before a kiss.)

“I missed your laugh…” He does say those words and Pollux looks. He doesn’t know that for sure, especially when he looks at him as tender as freshly bruised knuckles.

Did he almost forget the sound of it? Had Ortega almost forgotten the sound of his voice, just like he almost forgot what he sounded like? Would it have been so tragic if he never heard his voice again, stuck with only the preserved opalescent amber of memory of a better time and a better place?

Surrendered to memory where his voice would waver into stilled silence, a cheap copy of the voice in Ortega’s head. Or stuck in old photographs and newspaper clippings, or old news reels and private videos. He thought that stupid handheld clunky camcorder Ortega carried around was the worst thing ever. How many did he break? He can’t remember.

“I know.” Pollux replies just as gently, like trying not to press too hard against the bruises of memory, but he’s heavy handed--clunky and broken. What else can he say?

“Thank you…”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“Someone should. You put up with me.”

Ortega pauses, turning to look at Pollux. Trying his hardest to see him.

“Because I want to Pollux--because I want this to work. Us to work.”

It’s so easy to say he can’t always be here—it’s the truth after all, nothing complicated about it. It won’t end up working out. But all that starts is arguments and he’s tired of them. 

(He’s just so tired all the damn time. tired of everything and maybe he’ll steal a motorcycle and weave through traffic until the inevitable happens.)

Pollux doesn’t dispute the point, he just nods when he feels Ortega looking at him. He doesn’t shy away when Ortega puts a hand on his waist and kisses the side of his head, his eyelid, the bridge of his nose. Mumbles another ‘i love you’ and Pollux hums when he steps away.

He sets the half empty cup aside, absentmindedly reaching under his sweater, thumbing the edge of a tattoo along his waist.

Last night Ortega brushed his thumb along the thick slick tapering edge. Pollux excused the strange face he’d made at the weird texture of it, but he didn’t excuse the kiss he placed when his lips followed his hands. 

Maybe later he’ll hold him like that again; when he comes over again in a few days and crawls into bed beside him and lets him touch him in the darkness. He’s not brave enough for the light yet, not when he’s still angry--still so hurt--over lost time.

Seven years--he doesn’t have seven more in him.

Pollux watches his back instead as he gets to cooking, half smiling as Ortega starts to hum, bobbing from foot to foot as the smell of lunch crowds the kitchen.

He murmurs, mostly to himself and it tastes like a shout at the back of his throat.

“I want it to work too. I really do.”

—