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sweettjrose · 8 months

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Detective Mickey Pilot P.3

Finally, Part 3 is done and I am really happy with how it came out. This is definitely a longer part, but I got it to end where I wanted. I also got to finally write for the character I am excited, and a bit nervous, to write for. I really hope I did him justice. I tried to match the tone and feel of the comics that portray him in a bit more of a serious through still playful light, but also some traits of my own. You'll see what I mean.

I will say though as expected this did end up being much longer than expected and I will have most likely 6 parts instead of 5. Which means I am about halfway done which is crazy to me. I don't think that should change, based on an outline I made, but it is still possible.

Again I am so thankful for all your support. I really appreciate your shares and likes (is that what they are called on Tumblr).

But without further ado, here is part 3 (This one didn't rhyme)

Previous Part: X

Next Part: X

Mickey couldn’t have been standing there for more than a couple of seconds, but to him it felt like hours. A lightning strikes from behind illuminating the large and imposing stature of the person in front of him. He tries his best to back away from the intimidating shadowy figure, as the wanted poster and the warnings surrounding it flash throughout his mind, he wasn't able to stop his mouth from sputtering “Y-you’re… Y-you’re…” “The Phantom Blot?'' the figure finished “Pleasure to meet you”. Mickey quickly felt the back of his foot touch the edge of the ledge, reminding himself that he is on the roof of this building. At night. Alone. With this guy. Crap. Mickey looks up at the towering figure again, not hiding any sense of fear. This man couldn’t have been that much taller than Goofy, but for some reason at this moment he felt 10 feet tall. During this, The Phantom Blot silently watches the little mouse carefully, noting every little move he makes. Though you couldn’t see his face, he appears quite amused and is relishing in the fear the mouse displays. Eventually, he decides to speak again.

He cheekily asks the mouse who he is and what he could be doing on this fine night. Mickey doesn’t respond as he still seems to be in shock at what is going on. The Blot chuckles to himself and jokes about how speechless the mouse is and how he tends to have that effect on people. He also remarks that the air is “quite thin” up here and perhaps the mouse may be more talkative on the ground. The Phantom Blot then leads Mickey to a pole and gestures for the mouse to go down first. Almost instinctively Mickey drops down the pole, before quickly realizing that this could be his best chance to escape. The second he reaches the bottom he does his best to bolt out of the alley… Only for his shirt collar to be caught by the Blot who chides him for attempting to escape before they finished their conversation. The Phantom Blot then drags him over to the trap with the camera, holding tightly onto Mickey’s collar.

Assured that the mouse won’t try to escape again, he questions the mouse again, this time only asking for a name. A defeated Mickey Mouse answers him, stuttering out the response. The Blot makes a snide comment about Mouse being a common last name, before moving onto his next question asking what the mouse is doing. Mickey gives in and explains about how he was trying to capture a thief that was going around stealing cameras. The Phantom Blot seems to instantly notice the trap and pulls it apart, remarking about how the mouse should have used a different kind of knot if he really wanted to be effective and that he could do a better job at hiding it. He then easily picks up the camera and pockets it into his cloak. Further bringing shame to the mouse.

Afterwards, the Phantom Blot continues to prod for more information on why Mickey wanted to capture this thief, this time a bit more seriously and scary. Mickey quietly squeaks about how he works at the Mouseton Argus and how he was hoping to write a story about the crime. As he somberly answers the shadowy figure’s questions, trying to do his best to avoid his frightening eyes, Mickey can feel himself coming to terms with his fate. There is no way this man is just going to let him walk. There is a good chance he could die here. He could never see Pluto, Donald, Goofy, Felicity, Clarabelle, Horace, Morty, Ferdie and Min… Minnie. He never even got a chance to say goodbye to Minnie. All for some stupid story. What did he get himself into? The shadowy figure makes a comment about how it is odd that a couple of missing cheap cameras would be good enough for a story, but I guess everybody starts somewhere. He then really starts to look at the mouse, this time not just trying to observe his actions, but trying to read him, understand who he really is. The large man crouches in front of Mickey, meeting him eye to eye, this time gripping his large hands hard onto Mickey’s shoulder, instead of his collar. Mickey still tries to avoid eye contact, though finding it a bit more challenging. Once he got his fill, he gave a cruel laugh and smiled through his eyes, claiming he knows what really is going on here.

The Phantom Blot starts explaining about how Mickey is someone who is not happy with their lot in life, an unimportant nobody who wants to move up the totem pole and get what they think they deserve. So he tried to do something brave and bold in hopes that it would help him stand out and rise to the top. But unfortunately this little fish is starting to see why they shouldn’t swim with the sharks, or in other words, the mouse bit off a bit more than he could chew. The Blot chuckles to himself as the mouse seems to take every word to heart and part of the fear he feels morphs into shame. The Blot continues that normally he would take great pleasure in teaching the little mouse a lesson, but it seems like he already learned it. You know, despite what others say, he isn’t really one for wanton violence, given his “soft-heart” and all that. Plus he just isn’t in the right mood and it isn’t fun, if he isn’t in the mood. So perhaps he may be willing to let the mouse go just this one time. Mickey’s ears perk up at this as he gives the cloaked man a confused look. The Blot continues his speech adding that the mouse doesn’t have to shower him with gratitude, that would be rather annoying, all he has to do is forget this whole situation and go back to his pathetic unimportant life where he belongs… And stay there. Besides, it isn’t like anyone would believe him anyways.

Mickey, shocked at what he thinks the man is saying, tries to sputter out a response, but is quickly interrupted by the Phantom Blot adding that the mouse should take advantage of this rare moment of charity. Because if not… He grips harder on Mickey’s shoulder… Well let’s just say he has some traps he has been dying to try out and would love a lab rat. The Phantom Blot then loosens his grip on the mouse’s shoulder and starts to get up. Clearly getting ready to leave. Mickey still seems to be processing what is going on before instinctively yelling “Wait” at the shadowy figure. The man faces him one more time, his frightening eyes glowing as pure white as the full moon in the sky and his haunting deep black cloak vanishing in the shadows of the night.

“It’s best to think of this as a bad dream. If you’re lucky… You’ll never have to see me again”

and with lightning quick speed the man picks up the mouse by the front of his collar and tosses him against the alley wall knocking him out. Hearing the echoes of villainous laughter before it all fades to black.

Hours seem to have passed as the cool night starts to shift into a warm day. It seems like it did rain a little bit last night as the alley is drenched in water from the rain collectors on the nearby buildings. We then pan to Mickey who still seems to be knocked out between a couple of trash cans. Suddenly the leaf of a plant on top of a window sill fills up with enough water for it to unravel, dropping the water on Mickey’s head. This seems to wake him up as he spits out the water. He groggily looks around and tries to make sense of his surroundings. Where is he? How did he get here? Mickey tries his best to stand up, stretching as he didn’t exactly sleep in an ideal position. He feels around for his phone and finds it cracked with no battery. Despite his head hurting, he tries his best to think about what happened. He was looking for a specific missing camera. The Little Korker V39. He found one at Horace’s place. He used it to set up a trap. And then… horrifying white eyes flash through his mind… “a bad dream” rings in his ears... Did that really happen? Did he actually meet the Phantom Blot? THE Phantom Blot. Mickey sits down on a box as he tries to put his thoughts together.

There is no way that could have actually been him. The Phantom Blot is a master criminal that deals in high end crime worth hundreds of millions of dollars all over the world. Why would he be in Mouseton taking cheap cameras? He holds his head again as another migrain pulses through. Perhaps he just fell and knocked himself out. He looks around and sees that the camera is gone from where he remembers placing it. He also notices that the trap he set was very carefully dismantled. All of the sudden memories of the cloaked figure pocketing the camera and taking apart the trap rush into his mind giving him another headache. Mickey tries his best to look around for any clues, any other signs that the Blot was here. Any proof that he didn’t just imagine it. But struggles to find anything of note. He stops. He takes a breath. He may not see anything physical. But. He can still feel it. The fear. The fear from the moment is still somehow fresh in his heart. And maybe that is proof enough.

Mickey looks at himself and realizes how soggy and dirty his clothes are. Well the best he can do is go home now. Pluto has been left alone for quite a while and he could use some cleaning up. He tries to remember where he parked, thankfully still finding his car there and drives off. Not being able to keep his mind off of whatever may have happened last night. Eventually he is able to get home. He feeds a very worried Pluto, and takes a shower wearing a new set of clean clothes. He looks at his now charged phone and sees a couple of messages from Minnie last night. The typical good night and good morning messages she always sends, and he usually sends back. He should probably call her soon, so she doesn’t worry. He then noticed the long long list of missed calls from his boss. He looks at the clock. Crap. Late Again. At that moment, the phone rings. It’s the Editor in Chief. He takes a deep breath and the answers. All he hears is five words “Come. To. My. Office. Now” before the other side hangs up. He sighs again, not looking forward to that.

We cut to Mickey already in the Editor in Chief’s office, honestly more tired than worried. The Editor (By the way I realized I never clarified what animal the Editor was because he ended up playing a bigger role than I expected. Let’s say a Hawk) paces in front of his desk with the fake Mickey that the real Mickey made yesterday sitting on top of it. He goes on about how Mickey has been late 3 times in a row, seems to be getting behind on his work, and even tried to use this thing, as he gestures to the fake Mickey, to get out of work. Mickey tries to pipe in only for the large bird person to continue. He says that he has been giving Mickey some slack out of respect for his sister and his previous good behavior, but is feeling his patience wearing thin. He then asks Mickey what could possibly be causing all this trouble. Mickey finally has some time to explain and tries to bring up the case about the missing cameras. However once he mentions the cameras the Editor stops him and laughs. Not a comical laugh, more of a frustrated one. He can’t believe that Mickey is causing all this trouble over a couple of missing cameras. Mickey tries to add that there is more to this and he just uncovered a big break in the case that could lead to the story of a lifetime. The Editor looks at him waiting for a response. But Mickey stops himself, realizing how crazy it would be to mention the Phantom Blot. He might as well say that Al Capone stole his socks. Plus he is still processing whether or not he actually met him or if it was a bad dream. Annoyed by the silence the Hawk sighs and says that he will give Mickey one more chance. But Mickey will need to drop whatever camera story he is looking into and to continue his normal work without complaint. Mickey wants to say something, but is unsure what he could even possibly say. The Editor tells him to get back to work and to get rid of this thing, as he points to the fake Mickey. Mickey complies and drags the fake version of him back to his desk.

Mickey sulks over to his desk, thinking about his current situation. You know maybe it is a good thing to drop this whole camera fiasco. He’s at risk of losing his job, his body still aches from sleeping on the street, and it is just a couple of cheap cameras. But as he tries to open his laptop and go through emails, he can’t stop his mind from wandering. That had to be the Phantom Blot right? The memory is too fresh to feel like a dream. Plus where else did the camera go and who else dismantled his trap. This could explain how there were no traces left at the other locations. Without a thought he instantly starts searching up the Phantom Blot on the web and skims through articles about his thefts. Even seeing an article about a missing emerald. Aha! Apparently it is said that the Blot is said to be so skilled at theft that most people don’t even find out they were stolen from until years later, leaving absolutely no traces. Sometimes he leaves notes, but usually he will leave a fake in its place or even nothing at all. If he could steal gems from museums with the best security systems money can buy, he could totally steal cameras from a couple of pawn shops as if it were nothing. But now the question is why. The Phantom Blot deals tends to steal items that are worth millions. Why would a couple of cameras catch his interest? There has to be more here. Something that even a large enough villain as him would care about. Something truly wicked. Just as Mickey considered the possibilities one of his coworkers dropped a giant pile of paperwork at his desk and gave him humorous but confusing instructions on which ones to print copies of, which ones to staple, and which ones to scan. Oh yeah work… Well whatever the Phantom Blot is planning, he won’t be able to figure it out. He can’t risk his job. Plus even then what can he do… He’s just a Junior Assistant Photojournalist in Training… He’s just an unimportant nobody… He’s just a mouse.

At that moment his phone buzzes and he takes a quick look. It’s Horace. Horace messages him mentioning that he found something really important about the cameras. Mickey sighs, messaging back that he is dropping the case. He immediately heads over to the large amount of paperwork and tries to remember the confusing instructions. His phone buzzes again and he reads a message from Horace asking if he is sure. Mickey sighs again, and types that he is sure, heading back to the piles of paper. Before getting one more final buzz from Horace

“K if that is what u want 👍”

... What he wants… What he wants… What… is he doing? Here he is just about to resign the rest of his life to boring paperwork, as if there isn’t an important mystery that needs to be solved. Mickey knows for sure that if he were to drop this case now he would regret every day since. He doesn’t even care about the story anymore. Something is not sitting right with him about this whole situation and he, Mickey T. Mouse, is going to be the one to find out why. He picks up his phone again and texts Horace that he changed his mind and will be stopping by after work. After that he proudly smiles, glad to feel his optimism come back and confident that he made the right choice.

We see Mickey as he drives up to the same apartments as before and knocks on the door to Horace house. Horace greets him, glad that he changed his mind. Horace starts to jump into a deep explanation as they head over to his room, before stopping and pulling something out of a box. It’s Ol’ Reliable. Excited Mickey takes the camera and jokes about how he’s surprised Horace didn’t sell it. Horace confirms that he wouldn’t sell anything that meaningful to a friend and even cleaned it up using a special camera cleaning technique he learned online. Mickey thanks him and puts the beloved camera around his neck. Horace then restarts his explanation. As he mentioned before, he decided to look more into these cameras to see what could make them so valuable, but had a hard time finding anything since they just seemed so generic. But when he decided to go to the library on a whim and check out some old newspapers, he ended up finding an article about the guy who apparently made the cameras. Horace then shows a photo of a middle aged dog along with a copy of a small news article. Horace explains that this is Jimmy Korker, who was an inventor of the Little Korker Cameras and owned the company who made them. He explains how the article mentioned how he got arrested, while at one of his mansions in Mouseton. Horace couldn’t find exactly what got him arrested, but saw that there were theories of terrorism or conspiracy in the article. Horace struggled to find much about the situation, even on the internet, outside of the fact that he likely wasn’t held for long and that Jimmy sold the company not too long after the date of the arrest. Horace also cheekily asks Mickey if he knows what was the last version of the camera sold before he left the company. Mickey responds with the Little Korker V39. And Horace winks. Bingo.

Mickey cheerily takes in this information, taking notes and thanking Horace for looking into this. He loves how thorough Horace can be when he really gets interested in a subject. Mickey wonders out loud if perhaps, whatever Jimmy Korker was arrested for could be connected to why the Phantom Blot wants the cameras. “The who?”... Oh right Horace doesn’t know yet. Taking a deep breath Mickey tries to explain what happened last night with his encounter with the Phantom Blot. As he explains, Horace's cheerful demeanor drops into a more horrified one. Afterwards, Horace asks if Mickey is sure that he met with THE Phantom Blot and not just misremembered. But Mickey confirms that it had to be the Blot. It is possible it could have been an impersonator or maybe just an illusion but, as memories of the cold white eyes pierce his mind… It felt too real. Horace takes a deep breath, still stunned about what he heard. He remarks that he used to do research on the Phantom Blot back when he was training to be the next Robin Hood. Mickey rolls his eyes, remembering all the broken windows he had to fix at his family’s house when Horace was “practicing”. Horace continues about how he tried to learn his tricks, so that he could use it for “good”, but the more and more he learned about this guy and what he was capable of. He knew that this wasn’t the right field for him. The dude’s a criminal genius and no one can even come close to what he can do. Horace then remarks that he is surprised that Mickey is still alive, as the Phantom Blot isn’t afraid to off anyone who gets in the way. Mickey adds that he does think it is odd, though noted that the Blot said he had a “soft-heart” though Mickey could tell he was joking. Horace wonders if maybe it is because the Phantom Blot doesn’t think Mickey would be able to do anything meaningful or useful and that killing him would be just a waste of time. Before realizing what he said to a slightly annoyed Mickey.

Mickey then brings the topic back to the article and asks Horace if he happens to know where this mansion is. Horace looks up something on the computer and shows an abandoned mansion on a maps website (Think Google Maps). Great it is still there and looks to be abandoned. Mickey then remarks that his best chance to learn more about this “crime” is there. Thankfully he has tomorrow off, so he will have plenty of time to look at the place, without having to worry about going to work the next day. Horace also says that he will continue to look into this and see if he can find more information. Right before Mickey heads out, Horace wonders if he is going to wear a disguise. Mickey is confused at first about the need for a disguise, until Horace mentions that if this is connected to the cameras and the Phantom Blot, he may be in the area and may not be so kind if he recognizes him again. Mickey admits that Horace is right and asks if he has anything he can use. Horace pulls out an old box labeled “PATH TO BECOME FAMOUS ACTOR #4” and pulls out a top hat, a fake beard, some glasses, as well as some old looking clothes to go with it. They oddly enough fit Mickey well and Mickey thanks him before rushing off to the address of the old mansion.

When Mickey reaches the mansion the sun has already set and the moon is out. There doesn’t seem to be many buildings in this area due to the giant yards. The mouse heads out of his car to try and see if he can open the large gates that lead to the mansion. Surprisingly they are unlocked and he is able to open the gate with no problem. The mouse keeps himself alert, trying to notice anything that seems off in his surroundings. But currently all he can see are the lights of some night-time bikers trying to get some exercise. He dodges behind his car as they pass by. After they leave, seemingly unaware of the open gate, he quickly drives his car into the yard, closing the gate behind him and tries to find a place to park. Some place where someone wouldn’t find his car. He then sneaks over to the front door, as quietly as he can, keeping an eye on everything around him. He tries to see if the door is unlocked and to his surprise again it is also unlocked. One door unlocked is lucky. Two are suspicious.. He will have to be extra careful walking around this house, as he can’t really reschedule, despite the danger. He quickly sneaks in and pulls out a flashlight. The flashlight he brought is pretty dim, which was an annoyance whenever he went camping, but is perfect for sneaking. Gives just enough light to see, without giving his location away. He looks around at what is a mostly empty large room with a stray piece of furniture here and there as well as some frames with a picture of Jimmy Korker and what is likely his family. There is a staircase in the middle that leads up to two hallways each leading to the opposite side of the house. He looks to each side of the room that also has two giant doors leading to other rooms… Well guess he better start searching.

Mickey spends about an hour searching each room, being as quiet as well… A mouse. For a while he is unsure that he will be able to find anything, until he happens to gaze upon a portrait above an empty fireplace in one of the rooms. This portrait is odd as the other ones around were more serious and this one is more silly, with Jimmy Korker goofily holding up his hands like a hitchhiker pointing to the left. Mickey thought about the comics and cartoons he watched where usually this would lead to some kind of clue… Wait… What if. He looks to the left and notices that there appears to be a Knight in the left corner of the room who is looking to the center of the back room. Wait… Why is there a knight in an American mansion? Focus. Mickey then follows the trail and notices on the back wall there is another frame that is empty but on the top of the frame there is a duck character looking down and on the bottom there is a knob. He goes to the knob and turns it, which creates a loud noise behind him as he looks to see that the fireplace has swiveled around revealing a staircase. Hot Dog! Mickey immediately runs down the steps just as the fireplace continues to close again. He walks down the wooden steps, carefully to avoid any squeaky steps and avoid any traps that could be placed.

When he gets to the bottom he sees a medium sized circle room that is covered with papers. Most of the papers seem to be hung up on the round walls. He instantly got out his camera and started to take as many pictures as he could, while also trying to get a sense of what they say. One thing that sticks out is an article that looks very similar to the one Horace found at the library. However he sees notes around it written in black ink, wondering about some kind of chemical that was being trafficked from Mouseton. Mickey then notices another picture which seems to be the blueprints for the Little Korker V39, however he notices a specific area that is highlighted to show a compartment within the camera. He looked around some more and then noticed a table. Surprised that he didn’t pick it up at first he sees what appears to be some kind of green liquid in a vial inside a glass case. Mickey instinctively tries to open the case, but unfortunately it seems to be locked and attached to the table which is also bolted to the ground. But maybe it was fortunately Mickey thought as he realized that he isn’t sure if the chemical may be radioactive. He gets ready to jump back, but notices a book on top of the table. This one has different handwriting than the others.

As he reads through it, he starts to realize that this may be the journal of Jimmy Korker. Apparently he was supposed to send the last shipment, each shipment having 250 Little Korker V39 cameras, that will be sent to… Mickey can’t seem to read the location as it is scratched out. He says that this is the last set with the chemicals implanted in them and should also be the one that also includes the blueprints for… This also seems to be scratched out… in one of the cameras. However the FBI were hot on his trail and he had to send it through unusual means. Unfortunately this resulted in the shipment being lost and he still ended up getting arrested. Apparently this whole situation has put him through a lot of trouble and he had to pay a lot of money to avoid this getting out to the press. Though he couldn’t pay off one small local newspaper. But he wasn’t worried as nobody really reads their articles anyways. He says that all of this stress on his wife and son made him realize that he cares too much about them to continue this life of crime. So he has decided to sell his company and find some place off the map to live with them.

So this is why the Phantom Blot wants these cameras so much, Mickey thought to himself. He must be trying to find the ones that still have the chemical in it. I bet they are worth a lot. He also looked over to the part about the blueprint, wondering if he is after that as well. As Mickey takes a picture of the page, trying to get it as readable as he can, he notices some loose papers sticking out of another page. He turns to that page to see designs of some kind of weird mechanism that seems to use the chemicals. This seems to be the same person who has written the notes on the wall, now that Mickey thinks about it, there is a big chance this is the Phantom Blot. Hmm… He is a pretty good artist. Mickey picks up that he seems to be trying to draw something based on the description in the book. But what is it, some kind of tool… toy… But then a sudden thought came to mind as he started to put the descriptions and the drawings together… Weapon. It’s a weapon. Mickey's heart sank as he came to this realization. If the Phantom Blot gets a hand on this weapon, who knows what he could do. He could try to extort entire countries out of their wealth out of fear for destruction. Or he could sell it to other villains who could use it for their own nefarious needs. So many innocent people could die. As Mickey started to put his thoughts together he realized he knew what he had to do. He has to do everything in his power to stop the Phantom Blot from finding this blueprint… That is if he hasn’t already.

Taking some final pictures, Mickey tries to leave, but finds that a piece of paper has stuck to his hand. He pulls it off slowly revealing what appears to be a set of talleys. He counts the talleys to where there appears to be 237. Mickey quickly puts together that this is probably the amount of cameras that the Blot has already found. That leaves about 13 left. Mickey is impressed he managed to find so many, especially after such a long period of time, but then a sudden realization hit him. The paper with the talleys are still sticky. That means it is wet. That means it wasn’t written that long ago. He needs to get out of here. Now. Mickey tries his best to leave the room as he found it and quietly but quickly exits the mansion. On the way he starts to come up with a plan. Since he intentionally avoided taking any writings with him and placed everything just as he found it, the Phantom Blot wouldn’t know that he was here. But luckily with help from Ol’ Reliable, he has enough pictures that will be just the evidence he needs to get the police involved. If he can be quick enough, they should be able to sniff the place out before the Phantom Blot even gets a chance to take anything and run. With the whole force on his side they should have no issues getting the final 13 cameras, if they are still around, and hopefully find the blueprint before he even gets a chance. Hey, maybe they can even catch the Phantom Blot once and for all. Mickey laughs to himself in his head, that last one may be a stretch too far since the Blot has never been caught before, but you can always dream. Mickey honestly can’t stop smiling, excited that things seem to be really going his way. He didn’t even see that creep in the cloak at all tonight and he is so close to where he hid his car. So Close. Or at least he was… Until he felt a cold metal cylinder touch the back of his neck, causing him to freeze instantly.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

#disney #mickey mouse #mickey and friends #Mickey mouse and friends #mouseverse #disney comics #disney cartoon #disney channel #disney+#phantom blot #blot #horace horsecollar #detective mickey pilot idea #detective mickey #pilot ideas #pilot

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frostedlemonwriter · 1 month

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Find The Word

Thanks @kaylinalexanderbooks for tagging me! Sorry it is a day late, but I am lazy af sometimes. Plus, health issues been kicking my ass.

My Words: future, slice, deserve, access

Your Words: rash, extra, insanity, fake + for extra points, subjugate

Tagging: @blind-the-winds @veradragonjedi @winterandwords @that-chibi-writer and an open tag for whomever!

Future:

After a brief nod, Teagen moved the black hair that covered her deep-green eyes. Shaved on one side by Astrid, long on the other, and on the bare skin tattooed the compass design Aesgir created. The tattoo was still fresh from the week before when the old seer blessed it, just after Aesgir inked it and it still bled. Now, it sat a beautiful, complex design against her pale complexion. “I worry about the coming raid on those evil Finns. Their magics and rituals deep in those woods may leave me separate from the valkyrie if I am to fall. Body used for their horrific rites.” “Oh, young warrior,” Åse said, leaned in to place a kiss on her pale cheek. “Worry not.” Something about the seer’s painted lips left a numbness on Teagen’s face, perhaps something in the dye. “Have you seen the future? Or has…?” She glanced over at the older seer, still trapped in the trance as her words almost formed together in one long utterance.

Slice:

As the warm breeze transformed into a cool gust, a shiver ran down Kyu’s spine, caused tiny goosebumps to form on her skin like pinpricks. Suddenly, a loud snap echoed through the air, made her react with honed instincts. Drawing her short, thin tanto from its hide-bound scabbard, and turned towards the source of the sound in one smooth motion. Yet, to her surprise, there came no evidence of any disturbance among the trees. Every leaf remained undisturbed, every branch intact. Despite this, Kyu scanned the tree line, searched for any sign of movement. Then came a blinding glint of steel in the sun, caught Kyu’s attention, putting her on the defensive. With lightning speed, a figure emerged before her—a petite woman adorned in a fur-lined padded leather kosode. Covered her face with a wooden mask, fashioned into the fearsome face of a tengu. Except for the mask’s long, beak-like nose appeared more comical than menacing. Despite this, Kyu deflected a strike from the attacker’s own tanto, the clash of metal rung in her ears. She evaded a kick, felt the rush of air just inches away from her face by a straw sandal with soles made of woven grass. Followed by a razor-sharp blade that sliced through the air right after.

Deserve:

During the lively celebrations, Åse emerged with as much grace as a cat stalking its prey. Her presence felt as she paid her respects and honored Teagen and the twins. They deserved the praise and glory, having been close companions to the young, rising drengr. Guided by the seer—Åse and Tegan slipped away after they exchanged a few words with her best friends. As she moved away from the bustling longhouse; the cacophonous music and noise faded, left them in a serene silence. Jarl Viggo would understand her absence, as seeking counsel on nights like this was typical. In this moment, Teagen’s focus was on matters of destiny, and no Norse would question or pursue anything else if given the opportunity.

Access:

I couldn't find this one! Dun dun dun!

#tag games

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kanohimineka · 7 months

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The Death of the Power Rangers: A Eulogy

I know it seems it may be early, or late, but I feel I need to eulogize Power Rangers for a second. Yes, I know it's not done yet. Cosmic Fury comes out in about a week, and Hasbro is planning a reboot... eventually. However, this feels like the end of an era.

I don't just mean this pre-reboot Hasbro era. As far as I'm aware, we are leading up to a 2024 where there will be essentially no Power Rangers efforts, toy or filmic, for the first time since the series started. Of course, we've come close. After RPM, Disney planned to kill the brand outright, but they still output a bizarre reissue of the original series with comic panels in 2010 before Saban rebought the brand and quickly produced Samurai for a 2011 release. Power Rangers has always seemed to find a way out of cancellation. From In Space to Wild Force to RPM, Power Rangers has, somehow, always found a way. But now, in the year's 30th anniversary, the main series's luck has finally run out. Even still, it is trying to push it's luck. Cosmic Fury seemingly only exists because of delays within the reboot.

That's probably why the Cosmic Fury suits look a bit bad. They were on a production crunch only rivaled (and probably beat) by Samurai season 1. But still, this essentially marks the death of what we've known as the Power Rangers. When it does continue, it will probably end up with a completely different feel. Yes, there will be no Sentai footage, but it will also seemingly be missing the overly earnest yet endlessly charming Tokusatsu charm in exchange for Marvel inspired cynical quipiness. This sucks even more in a year where One Piece proved that Tokusatsu stylings can work in a high budget prestige series and both work for audiences and critics alike. I would hope for better, but comments about the corporate reactions for the franchise gives me my doubts. As always, the people at the top of these companies are often the dumbest and least qualified people to make art. Support the Strikes. (Not to be overly antagonistic to Simon Bennet, we attack him to much. It's mostly the corpos up top.)

Anyways, this corporate idiocy has led to the death of a franchise that ultimately helped me through some of the darkest moments in my life. I won't get too much into it, but finding Power Rangers in my childhood was one of the few lights in my youth, alongside Bionicle and Pokemon, and it was still there through most of it. I watched SPD first, and it hooked me. I learned about the universe through reruns of Dino Thunder. After missing RPM through bad marketing, I refound it in Samurai and, while that show isn't greatest, it led me to be introduced to some of my favorite Sentai suits, the Samurai suits, and later, the Gokaiger suits. I found Sentai, and the grander world of Tokusatsu productions, around Dino Charge, finding Youtube videos on the subject. It helped that the universe was still connected. Each show is individualized, which allows me to appreciate each one on their own, but the few connections did help me to feel connected to my childhood. But now, it'll be gone soon. I haven't been the closest to it in a bit, mostly looking at Ultraman, Kamen Rider, and the original Sentai for my fix, but I did still appreciate it.

A bunch of this in my adult life came through the Lightning Collection. It gave me figures of some of my favorite series, especially since it started when I first started seriously collecting action figures. However, alongside the main series hiatus, this series seems like it will go on hiatus alongside it. This is mostly through rumors, though credible ones at that. As of right now, we have only heard about a few unannounced products, and Hasbro isn't particularly good at hiding listing leaks. The Lightning Collection feels like the perfect line to have going during a hiatus like this. It is a collector focused line not trying to tie into any current content, looking back on the past of the series in a fun, relatively inexpensive way. And Hasbro keeps lines like this up without fitting content, they make GI Joe stuff after Snake Eyes flopped, and those figures have been strongly received. However, I guess a part of this has come from fan displeasure with the line. Yes, there were some general Hasbro issues before, but the move to Vietnamese factories have hit PR hard. Yes, other lines have had complaints, but none have been on the level of Power Rangers in terms of QC issues. It is absurd, I've had to mostly drop out of the line because of it. But it is still sad to see.

This leads to yesterday. Hasbro has this super paltry segment in their Pulsecon show, on the level of series that don't have current Action Figure lines, only 20 minutes, as opposed to Transformer's 45. In which, they only talk on the show coming out in a week and 2 toys that went up for order that day. I decided to pick up the Omegas, with which I'll be mostly checking out, symbolically. I do still need to finish SPD and Dino Thunder, but for me, this feels like a nice symbolic ending. It fits for what Hasbro wants to do further in the show. A set of weird, Western exclusive suits that play on weird MMPR nostalgia. I prefer these over any of Hasbro's live action efforts so far, in terms of original suit designs, but still. It symbolically shows, to me at least, the end of the Power Rangers. The end of something important to me. It's bitter, it's a bit stupid, but it's happening anyways. Maybe the new stuff will be good, who knows. But given Hasbro's attitude towards the brand, it won't be the same. Therefore, I need to bow out in this 30th anniversary. Symbolically at least.

#power rangers #cosmic fury #lightning collection #I am really tired #Isn't it funny how everything I grew up with dies... except for Pokemon I guess

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cartoonfanaticmonsterrobotalien · 7 months

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Comic Titles for Solar Opposites: Mighty Solars Pt. 4

Issue #35: “Starting Anew”: As the Wall People began to recover from their emotional trauma from the Wall and restart for a better life, Phoebe and the Mighty Solars team up with Cherie and Montez as a new foe kidnaps Pezlie. there will be a reference to The Incredibles

Issue #36: “Rampage on Earth-4”: A former wrestler woman gets kicked out for accidentally punching Jesse and is now a rampaging out of control muscular villainess bent on crushing the Mighty Solars with her brute strength?!

Issue #37: “Pinball Madness”: A new villain teenager, “Pinball Brat” has trapped Fung-irl and Lightspeed in a pinball machine and are now playing pinballs, this time with the two heroic BFFS trapped in human-sized pinballs.

Issue #38: “The Clock Strikes Midnight”: Korvo’s apprentice Parker is accidentally struck with some kind of power that involves her throwing electric like lightning blades from her hands. Now she must help the Mighty Solars stop an evil moon vilallness.

Issue #39: “Danger in Blood”: A young teenage girl is bent on revenge for the murder of her mother. She teamed up with the Mighty Solars’ old foe Crimson and goes on a blood-bending spree that involves putting everyone’s lives in danger by making them mind control puppets. Now, it’s up to Nova and the rest of the citizens, including an old friend, to distract the two out of control teenagers before they go after the Mighty Solars. But, will they be too late? This will be a reference to the episode from Avatar: the Last Airbender, “The Southern Raiders”.

Issue #40: “Stolen” Pt. 1: After the aftermath of Issue #40, Qourra is forced to suffer the consequences of her actions when the news about her blood bending on the south causes a dangerous cult of super powered crooks, called the Silver Spades, to kidnap the Mighty Solars and their friends, except for Korvo, Yumyulack, Pupa, Phoebe, Parker, Montez, Nova, Kevin and Sherbert. When a stubborn and thick-headed Qourra tries to take them down, she is forced to experience what the Mighty Solars and their allies went through. This one and Pt. 2 will be a reference to the Legend of Korra episodes “Enter the Void” and “Venom of the Red Lotus”.

Issue #41: “Stolen” Pt. 2: As Qourra gets poisoned by mercury, Principal Cooke, Miss Frankie, Ms. Perez, Mia, Jaime, Darcy, Sherbert and Randall ends up suffering from a testing project while Qausarblast, Vil-Gil-An-T, the Mighty Pupa, Starburst, Venus Tip and the rest of their friends try to free Mighton, Fung-irl, Lightspeed and the rest of the captured citizens from the Silver Spades.

Issue #42: “The Cavalry Has Arrived”: Some new Mighty Solars arrive when five rogue villains try to take down the Mighty Solars one by one. But these heroes are never going down without a fight, especially with some new additions to the family.

Issue #43: “Mighton Goes Crazy and Shit”: When Terry gets kidnapped by a mysterious mechanic, he transforms Terry AKA Mighton into a rampaging muscular mind-controlled monstrous out of control servant to take down the Mighty Solars, much to Korvo/Qausarblast’s horror and distraught because of his fear of losing his beloved Terry/Mighton. Until, a new Mighty Solar girl came along, and that girl is Nova! This is gonna involved HMG (hulking muscle grow; it’s gonna be reference to Bane from Batman and The Incredible Hulk)

Phoebe MacCarthy and Monica Miller belongs to @themagicwolf6677

Parker belongs to @prospitdaydreamer

Cheery Smithers belongs to me

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falliay · 7 months

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So, on the Dinobot Brainstorming/Indulgent Dinobot Idea Dumping:

I imagine they evacuated the Ark on a shuttle when it hit the atmosphere, adopted said Dino modes, and had a fight with Shockwave (because The Magenta Cyclops Man always seems to pick a fight with them at some point) that buried them underground until the other Autobots got them out.

I know this almost certainly won't all make it into your depictions of the Dinobots when you decide to flesh them out, but I'd to posit a few backstory things as well:

Grimlock was a gladiator-turned-mercenary who was taken under the wing of the ex-military bot Scorn. Scorn's teaching about "the strong defending the weak" was the main reason Grimlock decided to join the Autobots instead of the Decepticons.

Slag was also a mercenary under a very prominent group… many of whom died and were replaced over time. Slag never truly got over (most of) their deaths.

Sludge was a construction worker with a crane alt-mode.

Swoop was an aerial stuntbot who worked in and/or came from Vos. In addition to his "friendly" rivalry with Powerglide, he developed a very unfriendly rivalry with the Predacon Divebomb, who straight up "stole" Swoop's original name after beating him into the ground (this actually happened in the Marvel UK Transformers comics).

Snarl… I don't really know about Snarl. Cargo Hauler/Robo-Trucker, maybe?

They (the Dinobots as a whole) were originally part of a proper Autobot military unit, the Lightning Strike Coalition… most of whom got eaten by Insecticons in an ambush.

OH THIS GETS SO INTERESTING!!! Having so little knowledge about the Dinobots makes it difficult for me to write them rn so this is very helpful indeed

Thank you for sharing!

The most important thing when it comes to the Dinobots - in my opinion - is the way they get their alt modes. I will have to brainstorm that a lot more.

I’m not sure if I’ll make Shockwave be the reason they’re like that or if it was done by choice.

I also want to know about Paddles, the forgotten Dinobot - I NEED to read it

I had no idea about the existence of the Lightning Strike Coalition either. That’s 🔥🔥🔥🔥

#dinobots #falliask #bonfire #dinobot anon

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prettyinpwn-blog · 1 year

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Less Than He Seems - Part One: Honest Grays

“I guess I was like him that way, getting lost in fables because they hid prickly things. Fables meant that he hadn’t been hard on Stanley for no reason all these years. Fables meant he was good, just trying his best while coping with the scars that he hid under long-sleeves and tall-necked shirts, and that all of what he’d said in the past to Stanley had been good for toughening him up. He could pull Stanley up from the muck and scream at him enough to get him running before the rounds hit, and just maybe he’d survive.

But this time was the last Stanley didn’t lie and say that he did it, or that he meant to do it. He just refused to tell the truth. But father didn’t like neither yes or no’s, neither pleases or thank you’s, or clamp-fisted refusals to nod. War had enemies and allies. Bad and good. The betweens required pausing to think before you pulled the trigger.”

A collection of short stories from Ford’s POV about different periods of time in his life.

View the other entries here: (None Yet)

Less Than He Seems - Part One: Honest Grays

My life at that point wasn’t the comic I’d wished it’d been. It resembled one in superficial ways, perhaps; most of my memories from childhood are still panels formed from the occasional glance up from a book, bracketed between tall pauses of white and black.

But that was where the similarities between me and real heroes ended. They could make use of their mutations and minds to save the world, but I could only use mine to help me hide from it, and sometimes leave for another.

Even so, an extra finger on each hand was useful for holding thick books. And intelligence was great for making up fables to hide prickly truths.

It was a clouding June dusk, and I must have been twelve or maybe thirteen, getting lost in a worn copy of Fahrenheit 451, anxiety and far too many jelly beans and cake souring my gut as I pictured all those books burning.

The first comic panel glance up of that night of my life was mom sitting in her usual spot by the front window, a halo of cigarette smoke around her head, long cherry fingernails clothespinning the Eight of Swords from one of her many Tarot decks. A neon sign of a blue eye blinked open behind her on the window.

The next panel was her sighing. Another was her midnight eyes glancing between the card and my father, though I didn’t know if that was because he was loud enough that her customer on the phone could have heard his yelling, or that she wondered if - for once in her life - her reading had been accurate.

The neon eye blinked shut.

“Tell me how much it cost, Stanley.”

“Pa, I didn’t mean-”

“How much!?”

I always flinched when that deep voice boomed. It was the thunder that severed the border between the calm and the storm. And it meant that rain and strikes were coming. The rain always came for me. The lightning always swung for Stanley.

A sigh. “Six dollars and eighteen cents, Pa.”

“Good. You think about that long and hard. Think about it the next time you get smart and try to ruin your brother’s birthday.”

Ma sighed again for the fifth time in ten minutes. I let out the sigh I’d been holding for a minute and twenty seconds. Weary clouds on a map trying in vain to blow a sea monster away.

“But you know I didn’t break it. Right, Pa?”

“You have a good night, too, Sue. Yep. Mm-hmm. Bye-bye.” A phone clanked onto its receiver. The Eight of Swords was returned to the deck. Mom turned to Dad. “Fil, mind keepin’ it quiet when I’m on the phone?”

Dad crossed his yellow plaid suited arms, stiff as always. That was when I fell back into the black and white crawlspace of Fahrenheit 451. My chest even felt like I was wedged tight between floors and splinters and nails. I wanted to speak up. To mutter a protest and fight to break my way out of the shadows and off the shelf, useless trophy that I was.

But one glance at my father and I knew I couldn’t. I stayed fake and golden and dusty that night, a perfect blend with the living room wallpaper, and I’ve hated myself for it ever since.

“Why do you always blame me for everything?” Stanley told the truth at last.

“Stanley, sweetheart-”

“Caryn, let me handle this.”

“I. Didn’t. Do it.”

“Then who the hell did!?”

“I don’t know!”

The storm had come. Rain swelled in my own eyes, and I could see a yellow length of lightning getting ready to strike. I should have said something. But I was a good son. A perfect son. I never did anything wrong, did I?

Had I done something wrong that night? I couldn’t have. No, even after all these years, memories blur like my eyes did, and I can’t tell between myself and my brother when I look in that mirror; when things are that smeared by reflections of regret. I couldn’t tell that I did it. That I was the one who dropped the present and broke it.

Stanley couldn’t tell, either. He never did. Dad never believed him when he told the truth. That’s why he became the best liar I’ve ever known. Dad wanted lies, because they affirmed his own truths.

I guess I was like him that way, getting lost in fables because they hid prickly things. Fables meant that he hadn’t been hard on Stanley for no reason all these years. Fables meant he was good, just trying his best while coping with the scars that he hid under long-sleeves and tall-necked shirts, and that all of what he’d said in the past to Stanley had been good for toughening him up. He could pull Stanley up from the muck and scream at him enough to get him running before the rounds hit, and just maybe he’d survive.

When the lightning was over and done with, my brother ran into our room, hand on his red cheek and eyes as brown and wet as my own, hidden under a shag of dark hair. As always, Ma went to Dad and chided him, and as always, he apologized to her and said he’d work on forgiving him, the sobs at the end of the hallway forgotten because the storm was over, and keening murmur was so quiet compared to thunder, and that’s all that mattered.

The neon eye blinked open. Then it blinked shut again. I peered up from the black and white of Fahrenheit 451 fully for the first time since the yelling began.

“I’m sorry, Dad,” I said finally.

“Don’t you ever apologize for what Stanley does, Ford. He makes his own mistakes, and he can own up to ‘em. I’m just sorry your present got wrecked like that. That damn knucklehead is always costing us what we don’t have to spare.”

That night, I went to bed without dinner, claiming my stomach was still too full from cake and jelly beans. But really all I wanted was to be with Stanley and get lost in our own fable. Books were great, but adventures shared were better. That’s when the comic book panels of my life became movies unending with no black and white brackets between.

My memories of Stanley and I alone were always in full, unashamed color, our dark wavy hair of the same shade growing from one head to another without end or boundaries as we drew together side by side, our freckles twinned constellations, and our eyes glossed with infinite reflections of understanding.

I found him under Fort Stan that night. He sat in the blood hued shadows of that plaid blanket tent, a sage military helmet tamping down his hair, a Daisy BB rifle clutched in his arms. If Dad could have seen him, he might have been impressed.

“Permission to enter the fort?”

A sniffle. A tighter grip on the rifle. “I guess.”

I settled down cross-legged next to him. He did his best to keep his eyes under that helmet, but on occasion he let the rifle go to wipe them with his hands, arms coming back slick and betraying him each time.

“I wish I was tough,” he said at last. “Maybe then Pa wouldn’t get so mad at me.”

“What are you talking about? You’re the toughest guy I know.” It was as true then as it ever was later, even if it hurt my chest to say it. “Remember Crampelter?”

Stanley gave a little bit of a smile and a shrug.

“I’m just saying, if you hadn’t slugged him right in his fat chin, he never would have stopped teasing us.”

“Someday, I’m gonna be tough enough to punch away every jerk who messes with you, Ford. I just don’t get it. Why do they make fun of your hands so much? It’s stupider than… I don’t know!”

“Stupider than Crampelter?”

“Nothin’s stupider than Crampelter. Maybe that’s why he picks on you? He knows you’re better than him. You and I’ll be off goin’ to the moon or that place with all the gold you talk about all the time-”

“El Dorado?”

“Yeah, and he’ll be stuck here, suckin’ barnacles off the dock like the bottom feeder he is.”

We talked about the moon for a long while. Then about whether or not aliens from the moon would be good or bad (we decided on somewhere in between). By the end of our debate, his helmet was off and the rifle was put down. He looked like Stanley again, including the bruise on his cheek.

The real full moon was up high in our window by the time I decided to ask silent questions, a storm threatening to hide its light that we were drawing with crayons by.

I reached over to touch his bruise. He slapped my hand off.

“What?”

“It’ll go away.”

“You can’t just pretend it’s not there now, though.”

“Ford, don’t worry. It wasn’t your fault.”

“It might as well be.”

“No!”

I flinched. There was the thunder again, an echo of the first. He furrowed his brows and frowned at my reaction. Always a reflection, I frowned back. I set my crayon down, got up, and left Fort Stan. He might as well have pushed me physically out, though I knew Stanley would never have laid a hand on me.

“What are you steamin’ about?”

I made the mistake of not hiding in a book at that point. I should have just gone up to my top bunk, cracked open Fahrenheit 451 again, and let it take me into that world where I couldn’t say stupid things like I always did. But instead I took the book and threw it at the tent, where Stanley was still hiding.

“You have to stop lying!”

“What the…” Stanley crawled from the tent and picked it up. “Sixer, this is your favorite. Why would you toss this around like that?”

Rage. My own thunder. “I broke it!”

“S’not like you burned it-”

“Not the book. Don’t you get it, Stanley?” I’d hated how pitiful I’d sounded at that point, voice warbling, threatening to cry again. Weak. I was no hero. I was a liar. “Dad should have punished me! I broke the present. I picked it up and I dropped it like an idiot.”

“So what?”

“Why didn’t you tell Dad that I did it? Why can’t you just stop lying to him?”

“I didn’t lie. It wasn’t your fault.”

“It wasn’t yours, either.”

I didn’t remember much after these words that night, other than the feel of my twin brother taking me into his arms, smelling of birthday cake and ocean and sweat, our silver hair tangling without boundaries into one as I reciprocated.

It was not a hug. It was a desperate clinging to one another, salty water spraying against us as we rocked alone together away from the lightning and storm, braving sea monsters, roaring back at the thunder with voices we’d finally learned were not our father’s, but our own, then drifting to calm ports we would have never known if not for each other.

“I promised I’d always protect you, remember?” Stanley said at last.

And then the rain came again. I was never good at stopping the rain. But that was fine, because rain blurred things together. It melted all black and white into honest grays.

#gravity falls #gravity falls fanfiction #stanford pines #stanley pines #less than he seems #tw: childhood abuse #daddy issues ahoy yoooooo #but also some healing #ah stanford did break the present but do i mean a gift or do i mean time-wise?#hmm which scenes are little stans and which are adult stans?#and when am I talking about ford versus their dad hmm HMmmHMM?#wink wink symbolism #also the trophy part's hilarious because I forgot that Bill kinda turned Ford into one once and well it works even more now

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thevindicativevordan · 2 years

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thoughts on the Flash?

Which one? Giving the "main" contenders their proper due would require separate posts for each, so I'll just give my thoughts on the franchise as a whole.

Of the main two, Wally was the first Flash I knew - he was in the DCAU, his comics were collected in trades at my library so they're some of my first comics - and is still "my" Flash, but I've grown fond of Barry as well. Sad that a franchise defined by it's momentum has been hamstrung over fighting between which of the two of them should be the "main" Flash. At the height of the Flash's popularity we could have easily gotten two Flash books, one for Barry, and one for Wally, Johns was even setting that up to be the case before the New 52 reboot hit and everything got scrapped. Damn shame too because if the way the Flash CW show took off is any indication, Flash has it in him to be up there with the Trinity in popularity, something I attribute to the strength of the franchise's main hero, supporting cast, fellow heroic family members, and Rogues Gallery being severely underrated.

Conceptually the Flash is DC's answer to Spider-Man despite preceding him by a decade or so. Both Barry and Wally are Everyman figures at heart, both were superhero fans growing up as kids who idolized the Flash, both achieved the nerd fantasy of getting their idol's powers, and both got to eventually become the next iteration of their idol. The Flash is therefore a relatable figure despite the extravagant nature of his speed, because that core concept - alongside the powers - attracts people to his books. In our current world where everyone is hooked on superheroes, what could be more endearing than a superhero who starts out as just as much a fan of superheroes as we are? Certainly helped Kamala Khan/Ms. Marvel find an audience!

The emphasis DC places on legacy can often strike me as insincere, the Trinity are likely always going to be Clark, Bruce, and Diana as the main holders of the mantles, but Flash is one of the DC franchises where legacy is undeniably central to the concept. Jay may be the original Flash, but Barry was the one who reinvigorated the title, as did Wally afterwards. From Jay we get the name and concept. From Barry the Multiverse and time travel as a franchise storytelling tool, the Reverse-Flash and many other Rogues debuted with Barry as well, and of course Wally and the concept of "Kid Flash" originated here too. From Wally came the Speed Force, the Flash being characterized as the jokester/quipster of the JL (another connection to Spider-Man), the larger Flash Family getting involved and being a part of the DC Community, the Flash's Rogues being more "blue-collar" and organized than other Rogues Galleries, etc. If you were to remove one of the Flashes from the picture the whole franchise would change, which is exactly how many people felt when the New 52 erased Jay and Wally. All of the Flashes build on each other to help make for a stronger whole.

Add in one of the best superhero costumes - with the Flash franchise as a whole pretty consistently coming up with great new costumes bar Wallace's silver New 52 suit - and the versatility of their powerset allowing for a wide variety of stories from street crimes to cosmic catastrophe to Multiverse exploration, leaves little surprise that Flash in the right hands offers great entertainment. DC of course has completely failed to capitalize on the Flash's popularity every time there's been a surge of interest in the character, but Flash is a franchise that tends to surprise you with how often lightning strikes again. Under the new management, and with just the right amount of luck, Flash may yet breach the success barrier to stand alongside the Trinity as an equal.

#the flash #barry allen #wally west #jay garrick #dc comics

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drhu0806 · 7 months

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6 – “I can’t wait for you.”

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3 (fanfiction) Characters: Tav/custom player character Rating: G Warnings: none

The sky is choked with grey, bloated clouds, completely obscuring the sun to the point that one might assume it was nighttime on the surface below. The winds howl and buffet about, haphazard piles of debris left behind in the wake of the storm, while flashes of white light streak across the expanse above, followed by the deafening clatter of thunder. Up along the slope of a tall hill, a group climbs its way toward the top. The hikers’ pace is slow as they struggle against the crashing waves of wind and rain that push them back.

One figure among the bunch marches up with more ferocity than the rest; she gradually overtakes the others, her face set in dogged determination as she refuses to keel to the turbulent air around her.

As the top of the hill comes within reach, her pace quickens and she grows more excited. Turning around, she yells out over the roaring storm, “Come on, let’s get a move on, or else we’ll miss the best part!”

Someone calls back, “Kainé! Slow down! We need to be careful!”

A bolt of lightning arcs across the clouds, lighting up the sky in brilliant white. Kainé whips her head back around to the top of the hill as her hungry eyes scan the skyline.

“I can’t wait for you! I’m going!”

She rushes off, the protests of her companions washed away by the cacophony of rolling thunder and howling gales. As the slope shallows, her pace quickens, and she’s almost tripping over herself as she crests the peak. Lightning continues to fly; most remain as quick flashes among the clouds, but standing so high atop the hill, Kainé can see dazzling lances of electricity fall from the heavens to strike the ground below. Even as the storm rages around her, as the trees creak and rustle and bend, she takes a deep breath. Her heart pounds in her chest, and she feels so alive. Her skin crackles, her hair whips wildly around her face as she finds that feeling she’s always chased after.

Enraptured in the presence of the tempest, she doesn’t notice the slight change in the air. The voices of her companions from below are lost to the winds, and Kainé opens her eyes to behold the sights below her once more.

There’s another bright flash, but this time she doesn’t see it.

Heat like she’s never felt before, voltaic, numbing heat rips through her as if the gods themselves drove a titanic lancet through her brain to split her in two. It’s pain and no pain all at once, a moment that seems to stretch on forever as it feels like everything explodes; her body seizes, and something within her head bursts. But Kainé doesn’t feel anything beyond the first second; something vital within her stops, and everything goes black.

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

“And that’s how I figured out what my bloodline was,” Kainé finishes. “Well, sort of. We narrowed it down at least.”

The camp’s reaction is a comical mix ranging from horror to nonplussed nods. Wyll lets out a low whistle, while Gale in particular looks the most scandalized.

“You know when we first met, I didn’t take you as a thrill seeker,” he says. “Although considering you’re here with us in this moment, obviously you came out of that intact.”

“Well, apparently my heart had stopped for a good few minutes, and I was comatose for about a day after and then bedridden for at least a week, so I really learned my lesson then,” she laughs. “Still can’t hear very well out of one ear and I still get a little tingly, but I lived! I lived, and I will probably never do that again, aside from what a mage might shoot at me.”

Wyll looks up. “Probably?”

“Well it’s said that volcanic activity produces great conditions for lightning storms, so if we ever run into something like that—”

Gale holds out a hand, looking rather ill. “Please don’t jinx it.”

#baldur's gate 3 #fictober23 #tav #bg3 tav #my writing #owlscratch #sometimes you like writing about the stupidest shenanigans your oc gets into

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insertdragonpun · 1 year

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Installment two of my "im-probably-gonna-actually-make-this-a-comic" :)

The same as the previous post be ⚠️ warned ⚠️ this is a gruesome story with some gruesome topics. This time will include graphic language and descriptions, as always no slurs and if I do use a slur please correct me and tell me the actual term! I'm always up for learning more. Be safe people, and because of something that happened in my life recently have the suicide hotline: 988

So... I'm still here. I made this drawing literally the day after the first one but school happened and other stuff.

Here is Kim! (Yes I know it rhymes with Dim and yes I do plan on making a gofdy thing with it in the comic)

Holy shit I love her. I don't draw sexy things often so excuse anything that looks a little wonky.

So... Kim is a mage. A mage of story to be specific. I can hear the crickets chirp in your questioning silence. Based on the mechanic you explained on the post with Dim, how the hell did Kim kill a monster with a storm?

Well my lovely little readers, let me give you some backstory.

Kim was a scientist. A meteorologist, currently working in a field frequented by lightning storms because she was trying to find a way to harness the constant storms into an efficient energy source. A productive woman dedicated to her science. When the tutorial started she was in the middle of an experiment. As she stood watching the lightning dance around her extra special lightning rod she heard a screech. She turned around and came face to face with a griffin with 6 eyes. (Not gonna lie, I was playing miitopia when I came up with this whole story idea so some of the monsters are gonna be inspired by it) it towered over her splaying its giant wings of golden feathers.

Kim, obviously, freaked the fuck out. She ran as it swiped at her with its thick talons. It screeched and then lunged after her. She had some common sense and knew she wasn't going to be able to outrun a giant bird so she used that big ass brain of hers and came up with an idea. She led it to her very special lightning rod :D

Why is this lightning rod special? Well, not only does it measure how much electricity it gets from each strike, it can also tell when it is about to be struck and beeps really fucking loudly 5 seconds prior (I know it doesn't seem like a long time but you can very easily jump away in 5 seconds try it out, test your reflexes)

She stood next to the rod and waited. She felt her heart thumping in her chest louder than the thunder in the sky as the beast grew closer and closer.

BEEEEEEP

She jumps behind the rod and the griffin lunges after her, just as the lightning strikes down.

⚠️ warning ⚠️ here comes the gruesome part. It's nothing important, just me practicing writing descriptive things. This will also be really hecking exaggerated because I can't find anything that says what happens to the body after getting struck by lightning except for the really rad looking scars. If you don't feel comfortable reading it skip to the next danger triangles

She'll never forget that sound. The beasts screech blended with the thunder as the feathers burned, and the 6 eyes began to melt from the sheer heat. She could hear the blood boil filling the air with ozone and iron as it turned from a liquid to gas. ⚠️ ⚠️ ⚠️ ⚠️

For those that read the description, and for those that didn't, let me explain the lightning. Because I've decided that this story takes place in a sorta parallel earth (kinda like mha with their sorta japan) I've set up this field of storms as I call it. It's kinda like tornado alley except it's a perfect circle that because of it's bowl shape it turns the wind around and around before it reaches the center and just shoots out. So when a storn gets caught it can stay there for over a year just swirling and swirling, and because of the storm fields location storms are frequent. They storm Kim was using for her experiment reached the end of it's cycle and did what is known as the "Zeus Phenomenon" (it's not an actual phenomenon, I think, just something I made up for this) at the end of its cycle a storm will collect into a whirlpool like shape and all of the electricity it still had stored in it, shoots out into a giant ass bolt that electrifies the ground it strikes that lasts for a few days after being struck. The bolt is also like lightning on steroids and crack at the same time, because oh boy is it a phenomenon. The bolt not only affects the area it struck, but also a radius around it equal to the width of the bolt.

Kim was standing in that radius and was hit in the head by a little branch of pure energy, it knocked her out but the beast was dead.

When she woke up she was facing a blue screen.

#kim!#my beloved little lightning lady!#i love her #could you tell?#I've had her original outfit in my head but I've never drawn it #now I really want to #it's almost midnight and I have to be up at 6 am for school tomorrow #i am in spain without the s #i actually posted this because I drew the third character and remembered that I didn't post the second one lmao #there is quite a difference between this one and the next one and I can't wait to post it #actually i can #it's late #goodnight/good day #apocalyptic comic idea

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amoveablejake · 2 years

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Tales of Old.

Lightning strikes twice.

Okay. You will never believe this and I mean truly, you will never believe this but the moment that I typed Odin and Thor up top, a flash of lightning lit up the skies surrounding my apartment building and a thunderous road followed it. I mean, maybe you will believe it because really you can’t make this stuff up. Well, you can, but you know what I mean. Sometimes the universe is listening and if you listen carefully maybe you’ll be able to hear it respond.

That wasn’t the original planned opening for this piece but rather one that was born out of quite a surreal moment. A surreal moment but a fitting one for the opening line of this stretch of writing was going to be that I have always been interested in Thor and rest of the gods of Asgard. I can’t quite remember where this fascination came from but if I had to guess it would be from comic books. I mean now that I think about it, ofcourse it was. When I was little I didn’t realise that the Vikings, Thor and Norway were all connected and this was because my vision of it all was born out of the pages of Marvel comic books. The ideas that I had of Norse mythology weren’t mythology at all for they were visions of Thor battling alien threats with the Avengers by his side. Ofcourse, the films that have been released over the past few years have only added to his idea of Thor being, well, how he is to the world in the 21st century and with a new Thor film only a few tantalising weeks away, thats not going to change any time soon. Though, it has changed a little for me.

I mentioned in last Sunday’s piece that I had read a book the week before called ‘Norse Mythology’ written by Neil Gaiman and this book told the tales or at least some of the ones that have survived through the years of the gods of Asgard and at the centre of them all, Thor son of Odin or Odinson. Whilst I was interested in reading these tales of old, primarily because of an upcoming voyage that has been mentioned once or twice already, I was not expecting them to grip me the way that they did. In a way, despite my love of Thor and Asgard it felt like compulsory reading before the trip. These sweeping tales of the gods and their lives are truly enthralling and quite frankly ever since I finished the book I haven’t been able to stop thinking about them and I know that I will now be walking around Norway constantly looking for nods to them, for any sort of trinket that looks like it has come from the time and ofcourse I will now be retelling the stories msyelf. And that, that is actually part of the magic of it. As Neil Gaiman writes in his preface to the book, these are tales that are meant to be told and retold. The main elements of the story may stay the same but people add and take away other aspects to make it their own and through these endless retelling of the stories these characters, no, these figures, these gods remain with us in all of their forms.

Because truly, no one is ever really gone.

-Jake, a man writing this for his Dad out there in the Universe, 19/06/2022

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moonbaby26 · 3 years

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Title: Telling the Truth

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x Reader, but also Magneto and Peter father/son interaction!

Summary: Continuation from previous chapter. Set during X-Men: Age of Apocalypse, you and the others finally defeat Apocalypse, just to end up stranded together until a way home can be devised. During the wait, you get to clear up some things with Peter on your feelings for him. Yet all goes sideways when Peter finally works up the courage to tell Magneto the truth about being his son.

Notes: For those that know the movies by heart, I made some more changes closer to the comics obviously. You’ll see.

Warnings: Some cursing, especially during the impromptu therapy session of Magneto and Peter unleashing their emotional baggage.

Chapters: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Taglist: @drikawinchester , @n0obmaster69 , @alexloveskili , @what-a-silver-lining , @bluesprings18 , @weakmoony-stuff , @slytherinsi-mp , @wintwrsoldiwr , @tommy-braccoli , @amourtentiaa

Peter Maximoff x Reader Masterlist

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You didn’t know what you felt anymore. In a way it was like being outside of yourself. Just watching from somewhere far away even as you were pouring every ounce of strength you had left into your hands, blasting Apocalypse’s shield over and over.

You were trying to cause even the slightest, tangible bit of damage to him, just as Magneto was, just as Scott was. And yet, even with the three of you giving all you had, the monster had already gathered himself up again. With just the movement of one hand, he’d thrown Hank violently to the side when Beast had gotten too close while trying to help you all.

And only moments after Hank’s unconscious body had come to rest, Scott had faltered as well. In exhaustion, he’d finally had to close his eyes, pulling his glasses back down as he’d staggered backward. Then with another flick of the wrist, Apocalypse had all too easily slammed the boy into a building, the wall he hit then swelling out to cover and encase him like some living horror.

You could still hear Scott screaming even as you realized Apocalypse had now turned his attention towards you. With his every step closer, that numbness grew within you. You were too weak to fly away now, after all the energy you’d thrown at him, you were barely still standing.

But you could see the irritation in his expression. It was obvious that he couldn’t understand your loyalty to one another. Why any of you would be fighting this hard, just to die.

He kept reusing the same tricks, but they were effective. As the earth shot up around you like tendrils on a vine, you couldn’t break free. As quick and flexible as it was, it only felt like concrete wrapping all around you. It pinned your arms to your sides and wrapped around your legs, chest, and throat.

With a clenching of Apocalypse’s fist, it all drew tighter. And when your energy field finally gave out, the last of your shielding went away with it. As that light faded, the pain of being slowly crushed exploded through you. But you couldn’t scream when you couldn’t even breathe.

Apocalypse would have Xavier. That was all he wanted, then outright ignoring the straining of Magneto in the sky above him, Erik desperately trying to still do anything on his own now.

But as your sight blurred and your senses faded, it was the most surreal thing, you could still recognize Jean’s silhouette as she also moved out into midair.

Yet it wasn’t her, at least not as you knew her. Somehow that thought had still floated through your dying mind, before the world exploded all over again.

Even without being powered up, you could feel that surge. Like a pressure wave of pure, raw force. It seared across everything, hot and burning. But like a warm fire, for those far enough from the center, it only revitalized them. Hank was awakened suddenly, soon enough breaking the pieces that held you and giving you a chance to breathe again before he ran on all fours to also free Scott.

And yet for Apocalypse, someone far too close to that center, and the real target of Jean’s fury, the only option was to burn.

You were on your knees as you still tried to catch your breath, but you all knew opportunity when you saw it. She’d broken through his shield, torn through his armor. But even as his flesh seared away, it was still trying to heal back just as quickly.

Magneto had impaled him to the spot with multiple steel bars as soon as his shield had fallen, but Apocalypse was a coward. As soon as that tide had started to turn, he tried to flee.

Hank called out, “He’s getting away!” As Apocalypse tried to teleport, an energy shield rebuilding to close around him.

Even digging as deep as you possibly could, you only had enough left to make a large orb from one palm. That white light encasing just one of your hands rather than your whole body as you realized you had to make this last shot count.

And just as you thought you were not going to have another opening to get past his shield, lightning began striking down right on top of him. A hole broke in his field with the force, the white haired girl from before surprising you all with a sudden change of allegiance.

You threw your orb at once then, controlling it to come right through the opening she had made. It exploded directly against Apocalypse’s head and neck, further blasting away muscle and bone that no longer had time to heal under all the combined attacks.

But it was still Jean who dealt the killing blow. With one final powerful surge of her energy, screaming, she erased the last of him. His body broke into only ash under her red aura. It spread into the sky all around her, like wings of flame before extinguishing at last.

You were still waiting for some final confirmation that it was really over though, that you’d won. After a few moments of only the sound of the receding wind, and the sand lightly blowing past with it, it was like a collective acceptance at last.

You fell back with a large exhale, exhausted as you laid onto your back in the dirt. In the sky, you could see Magneto and Jean hover back to where Xavier was, no doubt to check on him now. You could only imagine if Magneto would soon be apologizing to his old friend, or not, for his part in all this.

But you didn’t rest in your silence for long. As you heard footsteps, you turned your head enough to see Hank’s clawed feet approaching. But he wasn’t alone. He had Raven on one side and Peter on the other, Peter more so the one he was propping up with that broken leg.

“Raven wants to go see Charles,” Hank said by way of some explanation, awkwardly helping Peter sit back down beside you as the other winced in pain. “I need you two to stay here while we see if there’s any medical supplies intact nearby, and while we try to figure out how on earth we’re going to get home now.”

While Hank spoke, you thought Raven might have still been giving you a kind of odd look. As if she was trying to make sense of something. You could assume what, after the abrupt display between you and Peter before. But you were just too tired to feel anything other than relief right now that everyone was still here at all.

“Okay,” You said, maybe just to check that you could talk, as much as your throat still hurt from being squeezed earlier. But the two older mutants were then gone just as quickly. Hank had picked up Raven, jumping over to the exposed second floor of the building where the Professor and the others were.

Peter was unnaturally quiet afterward. At least for a while before he finally looked down at you. “So holy shit, right?”

You glanced up. That phrase really could reference about anything that had happened today. You smirked tiredly. “Could you be a little more specific please?”

“I mean, your friend just vaporized that dude.” Peter answered, waving one hand. He couldn’t stop from being animated even if he tried it seemed, even when injured. “Did you know she could do that? Like damn, we could have been done an hour ago.”

You tried not to laugh. It’d hurt your ribs too much if you did. “No. I’d say she didn’t even know she could do that.”

“Well, I know who not to piss off,” He said, before going quiet for a bit again.

You still hadn’t been around him all that long in actual length of hours. But for all you’d now been through since first meeting at the mansion, it seemed like this morning was lifetimes ago. And you could sense that his mind was churning with something else he actually wanted to say.

You looked up to him again after a while. “You okay?” You asked. Which probably was still a bit ironic for you to question, as even though he had the broken leg, you were also the one laying in the dirt, too tired and hurting to properly sit up.

It still took him some time to respond though. Which told you he actually was trying to weigh his words somewhat before speaking. But when they did finally start to come out, he was still pausing and hesitating. “I’m, um, first of all, sorry about the whole surprise kiss there. I figured you’d just slap the crap out of me or something. But I thought we were going to die too, and I...I just-”

He was looking at the ground now, like there would be some answer there that would help him verbalize what he was trying to say. “I know I screw up a lot and let things go that I shouldn’t let go I guess. I already flaked out with the whole reason I came up to your house this morning, the whole Magneto thing. And I didn’t want to do that twice, not telling someone the truth again all in one day just because I was being chicken shit. You’re just really cool, and you know...I just wanted you to know that.” He looked back at you at last, as if trying to judge if any of this was making sense at all.

It did and it didn’t of course. You didn’t understand at all what he meant about why he came up to the house in the first place, or anything about Magneto. But you didn’t want to question on that when he was already making himself vulnerable with the main point you thought he was trying to make to you at least.

“Peter, I kissed you back remember? I mean yes, there was a lot of stress involved. But it doesn’t make it a mistake.” Now you were the one perhaps putting too much optimism in your thoughts here, and taking a risk. “Maybe it just made it happen a lot sooner than it naturally would have. But it doesn’t mean I didn’t want that, you know, eventually.”

Again, you’d only known each other for a day in real terms. Of course it was too much. But everybody had to start somewhere, right? You had no idea what a serious relationship could be like though, you’d never had one. Just awkward first dates that never became second dates because it was always just weird. You didn’t feel anything that way for those people and it was always evident so quickly.

And yet here came this guy, dropped into your life like a bomb in a time of utter chaos and danger, and you thought you were now finally understanding why your friends seemed to go so crazy when they told you about their “crushes” at school. It was just something that clicked. You couldn’t put rational thought to emotions like this.

“So you wanted to kiss me?” Peter finally asked in a way that was somewhat silly to you, because of course you wouldn’t have done anything like that if you didn’t actually want to. And yet you couldn’t make any dry reply to that effect when you saw the honest expression on his face as he’d asked.

Was it really so hard for him to believe that he would be wanted? You were surprised, genuinely. Of course he was quirky and odd, well maybe a great deal odd. But for all the flashy appearance and smugness you knew he could radiate, did he not actually see his own worth?

You touched his hand lightly, as you sat up at last. It hurt, but he needed to see your eyes to believe you now. You knew this was important. “You’ve had me flustered since you first introduced yourself this morning. I’m not used to that, at all, so it’s really new. I don’t really know how it’s all supposed to work, or what I’m supposed to do next. But I can at least speak to how I feel. I want to be around you more, I want to be close.”

The physical and the emotional went hand in hand really. But, you’d both have to figure out your own comfort level on that. You continued, trying to put that into words. He didn’t owe anything to you. “You need to remember it depends what you want too though. I can like you with or without kissing again. If you just want a friend, that’s okay too.”

He chuckled, seeming kind of taken aback. “Hell...” He looked away a moment, running his hand through his hair. It was obviously a nervous gesture, as it only made it look messier. “I’d really be a pathetic boyfriend you know. Like, epically bad.”

“You think so?” You asked, trying not to press too hard, but also not wanting him to keep seeming like he didn’t deserve any of this kind of attention.

“I’ll annoy you eventually, you’ll regret it.” He kept on, a little bit quieter then.

“How do you know I’m not annoying?” You countered. Of course you hoped you weren’t, you seemed to get along well with the other students, and they ran the gamut of so many kinds of personalities. But really, how was it fair for him to assume any fault would only be his?

“Pfft.” He looked back to you. “You literally glow. It’s not even metaphorical. You’re like perfect, and-“

Did Apocalypse ding him in the head too? You were having none of that. “I’m nothing of the sort. And neither are you.” But you smiled before he could take that negatively. “And I’m totally good with that.”

He quieted again, just watching you for an awkward while, before finally responding. “I guess we can try. I mean as long as you’re admitting now that your taste in guys is really this bad and you won’t get mad at me later for saying I told you so.”

It didn’t seem proper to laugh, but he made you want to. “I’ll overlook you insulting the both of us. But yes, if you want to try, then so do I.”

“Okay.” He answered. Then seemed to realize the depth of this a little more. “Shit...didn’t expect to get mutant-napped by the government, fight a god, break my leg, and become a boyfriend all in the same day.”

“And rescue a whole mutant school,” You added.

He shrugged purposefully for effect. “That’s what heroes do, babe.”

The pivot from so self conscious that he could barely accept your attraction to him, to now wanting to brag again really was something to behold. You started to quip something back, but stopped when you saw his face go serious. He was now looking at something abruptly in the distance, so you turned your head to follow his gaze.

It was Magneto.

You straightened up as well, now fully sitting up before Erik landed in front of you both.

He was direct, speaking immediately. “It will still be some time before Charles’ little CIA friend can get her cohorts to arrange your transport out of here.”

You didn’t know if the distaste in his tone was more about Moira being a government agent, or just dislike to her presence here entirely, but he only continued. “And given that Hank has no idea how to field dress wounds without access to his full laboratory, I get that responsibility.”

Peter shifted, abruptly realizing the meaning then. “I’m fine,” He lied.

Of course he absolutely wasn’t fine. But clearly distrusting about whatever Magneto now had planned and the inevitable pain it could mean for him. Peter hadn’t moved his leg at all in the entire time you’d been sitting here together.

Erik only answered him sharply, “You need a splint before you do even more damage to yourself.”

As he then raised his hands, metal rebar started to drag itself out from the broken buildings all around you, leaving no question that this was no longer a choice for Peter.

It was hard not to think that just a short time ago, Magneto had been using that same kind of power to impale Apocalypse over and over again. And yet now he showed how controlled he could be, breaking the thin rebar into lengths that could run all the way from Peter’s thigh to just above his ankle, and even bending them slightly to match the natural curvature of the knee.

“Lift his leg.” Erik spoke.

You’d been so distracted with watching him work the metal, that it took you a moment to realize the command was for you. You looked briefly to him, then to Peter. You and Peter both shared the same nervous expression.

If you just used your hands, you felt like you would only hurt him, not being able to support his whole leg in a way that wouldn’t put more pressure on the break. But you also didn’t know if you’d rested long enough sitting here to use your powers at all either.

Someone as intimidating as Magneto standing over you both impatiently certainly didn’t help.

But if it meant less discomfort for Peter, you’d at least try. You lifted both your hands, facing your palms towards Peter’s leg while focusing as best you could. Normally what would have been fairly simple now took a good deal of effort in your still drained state. But a faint white glow did start to move across his leg, eventually covering it from his hip all the way to the end of his foot.

Once enveloped, you raised just your fingertips, lifting his entire leg gently, just high enough that Magneto could place the metal bracing around it.

You heard Peter make a small sound of pain as Erik had circled other metal strips around the longer ones that ran parallel with his leg, snugging it all into place. But beyond that, the unconventional first aid seemed to be successful. His leg was effectively now immobilized as you let it back down softly, the light fading away as you let go.

“I look like a Mad Max reject,” Peter commented absently, breaking the silence after a moment as he poked at the new metal contraption.

“You’ll be running and finding trouble again soon enough I’m sure. We still heal faster than the lesser species.” Magneto responded, but not all that surprising to you really that he would still find ways to throw jabs at non mutants even in an unrelated conversation.

What did surprise you was that when Erik had started to turn to no doubt leave again now that his task was done, it was Peter that stopped him.

“Hey, wait a second.”

You didn’t think you were imagining a new anxious sound in Peter’s voice either, and it bloomed all new nerves in you as well. What was it between the two of them? There had been confusing hints of something ever since you’d gotten to Egypt, but Peter had never elaborated to you. Not that he’d really had much chance either though.

But just because of who Magneto was, it was easy to imagine things taking a dangerous turn if the wrong thing was said or done, but you had no idea how to help when you didn’t even know what had Peter so focused on him.

You felt him touch your hand, like a physical desire for support, as he asked Erik in the most serious voice you’d ever heard from him. “Do you remember a woman named Magda Eisenhardt?”

Magneto went rigid, and you froze as well. Very suddenly you were wondering if the others could still see you from here. If they were paying you any mind at all right now. But the only person here fast enough to actually get away from Erik, was here beside you with one wing clipped essentially. There’d be no escape.

“How do you know that name?” He’d turned fully back to face you both, eyes locked on Peter.

By the way Peter had seemed to pause his breathing, he wasn’t immune to the sense of threat either, but he still answered. “Well she goes by Maximoff now. She’s my mother.”

You felt like a helpless bystander watching some kind of disaster unfolding in slow motion. The frightening look in Magneto’s eyes versus the way Peter was now almost squeezing your hand painfully. The mental gymnastics your mind was now going through were chaotic. Did Magneto do something to Peter’s mother? Were they enemies? Was this some vengeance quest?

But if any of that were true, why on earth would Peter confront him now? With both of you already injured with not a chance to survive or defend against someone of Magneto’s power?

Whatever frightful things were burning through Erik’s mind as well still silenced him long enough for Peter to speak again though. And it all came out then.

“I was too afraid to tell you earlier, but I guess I’m just ripping the damn band aid off everything now. She told me about you. How she left because she was afraid of you too. But she didn’t tell you about being pregnant. She went to the states, changed her last name and had me. Me and my sister Wanda. Twins. But I didn’t know any of that about you when I busted you out of the Pentagon those years back. I didn’t know who you really were. That you were the guy I thought had just run off, or maybe you were dead. I didn’t know my father was in a damned plastic cell less than ten fucking miles away all those years when we had nothing!”

A chill went through you. The anger in Peter’s voice towards the end only added to the shock as you were forced to process everything at once. This was why. God. Just...shit.

You were all silent after that. For an unbearable amount of time there was silence.

When Erik finally did speak, you heard the anger in him too, but it was different. There was a raw pain in that, something so extremely deep coming out of him now. His fist was clenching. “She was right, boy. If it’s all true, then Magda was goddamn right to do everything in her power to hide you from me and to try to put an ocean between us back then.”

With a little horror, you could see the smallest fragments of metallic debris starting to quiver along the ground. His emotion carrying over into the environment now.

“I did remarry after I escaped Washington and went back to Europe. We even had a little girl. Anya.” There was the slightest sheen of wetness in his eyes, even though sheer anger was the only look still coming from them. “They killed them. My wife. My daughter. The humans killed them because of who I was!”

He gritted his teeth, and you could plainly see a couple tears escape his eyes then before disappearing back behind the sides of his helmet.

“They would have done the same to you and your sister eventually. To Magda too. She knew she’d be caught in the crossfire even when I didn’t. She knew what I really was.”

“It doesn’t make it right!” Peter’s voice surprised you as it broke, uneven and just as emotional as he yelled back at Erik. But he looked down again afterward, his hand trembling against yours. “I’m sorry what they did, that was our little sister too then. But you can’t just lie to someone their whole life. My mom shouldn’t have waited so long to tell me! I could have helped you...maybe it could have been different. Maybe we-”

“It would have been the same result.” Erik said coldly. “Because I would have been the same.”

With that he flew off abruptly, completely out of sight before Peter cursed under his breath, looking defeated. “Goddamnit. He really is an asshole...”

You opened your mouth to respond, maybe to try and comfort him, but then hesitated. There was so much to digest on both sides here. “I think he might just need time to cool off...” You finally said, as delicately as you could.

“Correct.” The Professor’s voice popped into both your heads then, leading you both to glance towards the broken building where the others had been, to now see they were all standing on the edge looking towards you.

“Apologies for eavesdropping,” Xavier continued. “But you were getting quite loud, both verbally and mentally, and I wanted to make sure you were safe as I had instructed the others not to interfere.”

Peter sighed, maybe a bit embarrassed at the audience, but also still clearly unused to having anyone in his head as he replied aloud. “That’s so damn weird. Guess you’re good now then?”

“Getting there, thanks to all of you.” Xavier answered with a slight amount of humor, “But helmet or no helmet, I don’t need to read Erik to tell you that he’ll be back. His anger is only towards himself, not to you. You did the right thing by letting him know the truth. He’ll come around.”

There was another odd feeling of amusement from the Professor after a moment though. “In fact, knowing how possessive Erik can be, I dare say you may get more than you bargained for, Peter, in parental attention. Good luck to you too, (Y/N). Though I’d think he’ll approve of you once he realizes how much you genuinely care about his son.”

You stared, knowing Xavier couldn’t see your ‘are you for real/horrified’ expression from this distance but that he’d definitely feel it.

You saw Raven make an exaggerated gesture of a thumbs up from way over there and Peter laughed tiredly. “We’re totally screwed aren’t we?” You sighed and he just leaned into you, teasing. “See? Too early to say it yet? Nope, it’s not. Told ya so. Told ya so. Terrible choice of a boyfriend, babe!”

You put your head on your knees as he rubbed one of your shoulders. You mumbled numbly. “I just want to sleep for sixteen hours.”

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(Continued in next chapter here)

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