#calamity gray

[eeveearoace-creative]

Calamity Gray, Calamity Gray <3

So! It's finally time for me to introduce a new au of mine - Calamity Gray!

So, Calamity Gray is an au that starts off pretty close to canon in a lot of ways - Anne, Marcy, and Sasha are zapped to Amphibia, and they have to find each other, and a way home. But, there's one major difference this time around - this time, Amphibia isn't a world filled with frogs, newts, and toads.

No - this time around, Amphibia is filled with fantastical creatures called "Pokemon".

I mean, I'm (one of) the Amphibia fandom's resident Pokemon fans - so, it's basically my job to provide you all with an Amphibia Pokemon au, right?

Anyway, this is gonna be a long one, y'all - I'm not sure how often I'm going to upload, and uploads will definitely be coming out in inconsistent intervals, but just hold on, because I think y'all are gonna enjoy this one. <3

A quick summon of the Eevee Simps: @arcadiii, @goodartitude, @karamelys, @peachpaws0

[Let me know if you want to be added/ removed from the tag list!]

And finally, please let me know what you think of this new au! I know it doesn't look like much right now, but more is on the way, and so many of my ideas just haven't been able to really get showcased yet.

Sorry for the rambling, y'all - please enjoy! <3

#fanfic #my fanfic #writing #my writing #amphibia #amphibia fanfic #pokemon #pokemon au #amphibia au #amphibia pokemon au #calamity gray #calamity gray au

[eeveearoace]

marcy in chapter three of calamity gray:

original comic by @c-rowlesdraws, and shout-out to @hey-its-puddlesock for inspiring me to make this silly edit :3

[image id: someone looking at various pokemon with cool designs. they push the pokemon away to reveal a spearow and says "that one's my favorite." end id]

#i spent like two hours on this #kaivee rambles #calamity gray #calamity gray au #amphibia calamity gray #amphibia calamity gray au #amphibia pokemon au

[discatded]

trucy from my breath of the wild au :)

#my art #ace attorney #ace attorney fanart #trucy wright #her outfit is based off both the sheikah and yiga :D #in this au the gramaryes are like. a small group that used to be part of the yiga but split off #and now have a tentative truce between both the yiga and the sheikah #they split off bc they didnt like how like. pro-ganon? culty? it was. they r still Very morally gray tho #trucy and apollo r interesting in this au bc apollo is precalamity (as the rito champion) #and trucy is post calamity (as a kass-like figure. she does the shrine riddles and champions ballad. no instrument tho just magic) #and lamiroir is. both. #klavier is link and lamiroir gifts him a guitar pre-calamity as thalassa #and then post calamity shes like pikango. that sheikah guy who goes around painting and shows you where memories are #shes alive this long bc. some bs abt sheikah lifespans idk #i spent far too long trying to come up with something that made sense. #i mean a way for sheikah ages to make sense not just lamiroirs age. bc good lord #precalamity impa and robbie are abt the same age. or close enough at least #if anything robbie is older #and yet! impa looks like shes abt ready to topple over dead while robbie looks. literally fine #i would see him jogging down the street at a brisk pace and hardly even question it #not even gonna touch upon ss impa. thats some early old testament divine intervention shit. physicians hate her #kogha too. bro did not age a day during those hundred years. LORD #not that u can see him. but hes got the same physical ability. and hes definitely older than the sheikah old ppl #is it the bananas?? what #anyway.gh

[horseslur]

The unfortunate part about naming myself Starsky is that Ydris' speech about taking the nightsky and putting it into the shape of a pony really just feels like the misunderstood badboy love interest of a YA novel.

Made worse by the fact that he could gain my love and affection so easily if he just KILLED HIS FUCKING CLOWN.

#i can respect a somewhat dickhead of a morally gray magician. i draw the line at the fucking good for nothing clown. #star stable #sso #calamity be upon ye #calamity will be upon ye in three to five weekdays

[chiakery]

Listening to CR as a podcast is different colour for each campaign.

Campaign 1 is sepia browns and dim yellows.

Campaign 2 is dark blue, almost navy at times.

Campaign 3 is dirty greens, like plants hit by a strange sunset light, not bright enough to colour them into warmer hues.

And no, I can't really explain that

#EXU is variations of red and light blues #Crown Keepers were just vibrant colours #Kymal added light purple to the mix #Calamity exchanged blue for gray and the red got darker #critical role #exandria unlimited #exandria unlimited: calamity #some incoherent babbling #please don't mind me

[hey-color-palettes]

Can you make a color pallette based on Astor from Age Of Calamity?

292f54 || #5f4973 || #c12517 || #ab6f22 || #c6c1ae

#astor from age of calamity palette #color palette #red #yellow #blue #purple #gray #request #may 31

[risingsouls]

broke: becoming a sage and helping the other sages, the hero, and the princess seal away your ex bf for being a bastard over and over again

woke: discretely lead the hero and princess to your ex’s tomb so they can revive him and you can convince him to not be a bastard any more and break the cycle that way

#.:crack:. #:: nabooru ☀ #in regards to a certain thread and AU :'D #nabs has always been closer to morally gray tbh #and she has a lot of guilt over not beign able to stop him herself #and then she gets to watch him basically die over and over and over again #which isn't exactly easy #then she had to watch the calamity ganon shit #so you know #old problems new solutions #it's TIME

[mantra-place]

#black and white #fog #mist #moody nature #foggy #lviv #ранок #туман #lvov #nobody #lviv ukraine #morning #stopped #cloudy #grayscale #gray day #calm aesthetic #natural calamity #out of time

[putting-it-into-parc]

what the f**k is a kilometer?

masterlist

Logan x reader (3.2k words)

summary: what’s better than running into a cute british boy in london? some might say running with a cute american one…

warnings: slight intoxication, a little injury (nothing super graphic)

Another day, another gray sky littered with clouds. You swear there’s a perpetual drizzle in London, that the beads of water that have formed along your hairline and neck were just as much rain as sweat. But you settle into the rhythmic slap, slap, slap of your shoes against the concrete along with the uptempo beat of your playlist, and soon your normally cluttered mind is blissfully empty of thought.

So empty, in fact, that you find yourself flat on the ground before you even realized you were airborne—let alone feeling your toe catching the cobblestone that started this bona fide calamity.

The public humiliation hurts so much more than your smarting palms, bruised and bleeding knees, the abrasions covering your elbows. Tears prick at the corner of your eyes. Then a tanned hand comes into view. It beckons you to grab it and let it bring you to your feet.

“Thanks,” you mutter to the owner of the hand, completely frazzled. You follow your gaze up to an arm wearing a navy windbreaker, a chest flanked with a W (and mysteriously, the Mercedes logo?), up to a defined jawline with just a bare stubble, pursed lips, and two narrow blue eyes topped off with a head of sleek blond hair. This could not be any worse, you think. Of course someone that cute witnessed you fully wipe out in front of the entirety of London. Goddamn. He was probably some rich British boy that, in a few seconds, would chide you in a posh accent about being more caahhh-ful.

“Bruh,” Windbreaker Guy says, “are you okay?”

In the most unequivocally un-British accent you’d heard since, well, coming here. You’re so shocked that you just stare, mute.

Windbreaker Guy furrows his brows. “Seriously. Say something before I start thinking you’re concussed or something.”

Yup. Windbreaker Guy definitely bleeds red, white, and blue. To your horror, you can’t suppress the most unwanted giggle as the screeching eagle meme soundbite randomly surfaces in your mind. He looks even more concerned.

“Uh.” You clear your throat. “No, I’m not concussed. I think. Please do me a favor and pretend like this never happened.”

Windbreaker Guy’s face breaks out into a grin. His blue eyes crinkle with laughter. You thought he was handsome before; now you feel your stomach swoop. “Whaddya mean?” He glances around innocently. “I didn’t see anything. Did you?”

You chuckle at the joke. “Thanks for helping me up, by the way. It was super nice of you.”

“Yeah, no problem at all,” he replies.

As you turn around to leave—continuing to run after this would be a Grade A terrible decision—he suddenly calls after you. “Hey!”

You turn around.

Windbreaker Guy bites his bottom lip. “Uh, sorry if this is kinda weird, but can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” you say with some trepidation.

“Are you from the area?”

You just know that both of you know fully well, that neither of you are exactly locals.

“Hmm,” you say innocently, “I don’t know what makes you ask that.” You fight to keep a teasing smile off your lips.

He blushes, and you have to admit that you’re enjoying every second of this. “Uh, just the way you talk…” he trails off.

“Ah,” you say, fully grinning at this point, “it couldn’t possibly have been my totally not American accent that gave it away, could it?”

To Windbreaker Guy’s credit, he catches on quick. “Definitely not,” he replies smoothly. “Just like how I’m also totally London-born and bred.”

“Okay then, Mr. London,” you risk, “what’s your very British name?” Whoa. Bold. You don’t make a habit of going around asking cute boys their names. Even if they did pick you up off the floor in your time of need.

But Mr. London’s—Windbreaker Guy’s—smile fades. You wish you could yank your words back. Shit. That’s what you get for overstepping. You search his face desperately for signs of being offended.

But then he takes a deep breath. “Logan,” he says cautiously. His face probes yours just as intensely, and you wonder why. “Yours?”

You tell him your name, and Logan’s shoulders relax. The smile returns to his face.

“Well,” he says, “it was very nice to meet a fellow, well, American.” And then he winks.

Now it’s your turn to blush. “Nice to meet you too, Logan. Sorry for interrupting your run.”

“Honestly?” he laughs. “I should be thanking you. I hate cardio.”

“What?” you yelp in spite of yourself. You feel just the teensiest bit defensive of your favorite pastime. “Please. If you hate cardio, all that means is that you’ve been doing it wrong.”

Logan raises an eyebrow.

“People run way too fast. No wonder they think it’s torture,” you press on.

The feeling of something warm trickling down your shin interrupts your rant. You look down and see dark red blood slowly ooze down your leg. A wave of lightheadedness hits you like a bus.

“Hey—” Logan begins, just as you black out.

The first thing you see is a weird, unfamiliar curtain. The second is a whiteboard, where your name is written in an Expo marker, big loopy letters. You turn your head. The third, a navy windbreaker…

It all comes crashing back.

“Oh no,” you mutter.

“You’re awake!” Logan exclaims, relief in his voice.

“Oh my god.” You feel faint again. “Where are we?”

“Emergency. You passed out. The cut on your knee’s pretty nasty…they had to give you a few stitches.”

You make a valiant attempt to climb out of the bed, but Logan’s arm shoots out to stop you.

“You’re going to pass out again,” he warns. “Take it easy.”

“I cannot believe this,” you say feverishly. “And I cannot believe you’re still here. I don’t even know what you were planning to do this afternoon, but it could not possibly have been sitting in the ER with a total stranger.”

“Why not?” Logan asks. “You’re not a stranger, you’re my fellow American.” He does a mock salute.

You can tell Logan’s trying to lighten the mood, but you still feel like crap.

“If it makes you feel better,” he adds, softer this time. “Worse things can happen to a guy than bringing a cute girl to the hospital and having the nurses fawn over you like you’re some kind of Prince Charming.”

You laugh in spite of yourself, and Logan’s face brightens at the response.

“I still feel pretty bad that you got dragged into this,” you say. “Did they say when they’re gonna let me leave?”

And in what has to be the first stroke of good luck today, a nurse pulls back the curtain as if summoned by will. “Feeling better, dear?” she asks.

You nod quickly. “Yes, much. I was actually looking to leave sooner rather than later.”

“Glad to hear. We just have a few papers for you two to sign, then you dears can be on your way.”

You’re so happy to hear that you can be on your way that you don’t register what the nurse said at first. But Logan’s face has gone beet red.

“Uh, wait,” he mumbles. “I don’t think I should sign her papers.”

“Oh!” The nurse gasps. “I’m so sorry, love. I just thought you were together, since you came in with her. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s all good,” Logan says hastily. You feel your cheeks burn. You don’t dare to try making eye contact with Logan.

The nurse hurries over with your discharge papers, and Logan helps you off the bed. His eyes narrow when you sway from the head rush, but you assure him you can walk.

“What a bloody adventure,” he jokes as you finally walk out the doors.

“I’m so sorry again,” you say, agitated. “This was…god, what a mess. And you were so nice about it, too.”

Logan blushes again, this time at the word nice. “Seriously, it’s no problem. I hope you don’t mind if I call you a cab to take you back to your place.”

“What? No,” you protest. “I can’t have you spend your money on me, too. Especially not after all this.”

One look at Logan’s face tells you it’s too late.

“Come on, Logan,” you say weakly.

He smiles as a taxi pulls up to the curb.

“Do you think you can get home by yourself? I’m happy to come with…I just don’t want to seem overbearing.”

Impulsively, you say yes, not wanting to take up any more of Logan’s time. But then you feel a twinge of regret.

“Thanks for the adventure,” he smiles, handing you a sheaf of papers. “And—I mean it—it was really nice meeting you.”

On the drive home, you absentmindedly thumb through your discharge papers and stop short. The top of one of the sheets has a messy ballpoint scrawl on it:

Your ~favorite American~ would love to know if you got home safe - if you’re ok with it, text me, followed by a string of digits that were obviously written with a bit more care.

Incredibly, your eyes sting with tears for the second time that day. Studying abroad in London was a lot of fun. But of course there were moments of stress, trying to navigate the Tube during rush hour alone, not knowing what “knackered” or “chuffed” or “daft” really meant (spoiler: you were truly daft about all that), and looking at a perpetually cloudy sky that made you feel homesick for the Florida sun. Logan, well…he was kind of a breath of fresh air. Even discounting the fact that he’d literally saved you today.

So it’s the least you could do to send a text from the safety of your apartment—er, flat.

Me Favorite American, reporting from home base. Safe and sound. 🫡

Your phone buzzes instantly. It’s all you can do to not giggle like a little girl when you see it.

Logan Mission accomplished. 🇺🇸🦅🫡

A week later, the scrapes on your hands have faded away and your knee has scabbed over. You toss your keys and hat onto the table, unlace your shoes, do a couple of air squats to loosen up your hamstrings that always got tight after runs, and plop down on the couch. You reach for the remote and turn on the TV.

Like you’ve done several times in the past week, you contemplate texting Logan, even if that sounds a little crazy. What would you even say? Would he want to hang out—this time not in an emergency room? Would he even remember you?

You figure if he did, he would have reached out by now. You sigh and start flipping aimlessly through the TV channels. News, news, sports you don’t understand, show you’ve never heard of, news…

“And Formula 1, racing for the Spanish Grand Prix!!” an announcer says as two neat rows of cars start zooming across a checkered line.

You’ve heard of Formula 1, of course. At least, you’ve seen the Ferrari scene in Cars. And come to think of it, some of your friends back in Florida had been talking about some Netflix show. Normally, you’d have kept advancing the channels—but you think it’s pretty neat that you just happened to catch the start of a race. So you decide to see what the fuss is all about.

And honestly, you can kind of see it. It’s so different from what you imagined, cars going around and around a circular track. No, watching the cars try to outpace each other on sharp bends and twisting curves leaves you amazed that someone could drive that quickly at all.

Some guy named Max Verstappen wins, apparently “again”. The drivers climb out of their cars and pull off their helmets, revealing hair matted with sweat, hugging a group clad in matching suits. You notice that some of them are wearing the strangely familiar W.

Logan’s windbreaker…

Aha. So he’s a Formula 1 guy. Well, you think, I guess that’s something I could bring up. You start fantasizing about potential text messages in your head—did you watch the race in Spain? I’m a Formula 1 newbie but you seem like a seasoned fan—when the camera cuts to the team wearing the W milling around their car as its driver also stands up, hops out, and removes his helmet.

You gasp. It’s a face you’ve seen before.

And a small banner on the screen—Logan Sargeant—confirms it.

You seize your phone and call your friend Emma. The one who watched that Netflix show. The one you had thoroughly debriefed your disastrous fall and subsequent rescue with.

“Hello?”

“Emma. You are not going to believe this.”

“What?”

“Remember Logan?”

A pause. “Cute Windbreaker Guy? The guy who Prince Charming-ed you?”

“Yes,” you hiss. “Well guess what, I just saw him on TV.”

“Whoa! For what?”

“Wellllll…for driving a car.”

“Huh?” Emma sounds confused.

“Yeah. Cause he’s not just Logan. Turns out his full name is Logan Sargeant.”

“What? Like, Logan Sargeant, the Formula 1 driver?!”

“Yeah,” you breathe, eyes glued to the screen. The guy who hated cardio, who blushed when the nurse thought you two were a couple, who cracked those corny British jokes—that guy was now greeting adoring fans, some waving American flags, reporters hounding him for a comment or two on the race.

No wonder he’d never texted you.

Later that night, you replay for what must have been the millionth time the events of last week in your mind. Falling. Logan pulling you up. You leaving, him calling after you.

Suddenly, you remember how uncomfortable he looked when you’d asked his name. It occurs to you that maybe he was so hesitant because he thought you might recognize him. What were the odds you’d run into such a sweet, cute, and caring guy who inspired a week’s worth of daydreams…and said guy turns out to be a freaking celebrity F1 driver?

You sigh. The clock tells you it’s well past 1AM. Your phone buzzes with a text—probably Emma, sending you yet another Tiktok, or Youtube video, or article about Logan—and you reach over to your nightstand.

Logan Heyyyyyy baby. Just thinking about you tonight. Like I do every night. 🥰

Huh? You’re sure this is a prank. But then your phone starts to ring. Logan’s calling you.

“Hello?” your voice shakes a little.

“Oscar—I swear to god, Oscar,” you hear Logan say in the background. Then an unfamiliar voice. “Hello? Is this Y/N speaking?”

“Ummmm…yes? Is everything okay?”

“Yeeeeah,” the voice says in a—British? Australian?—accent. “I’m Logan’s mate, sorry, he’s just a bit of a coward. He just wanted to tell you that he thinks that you’re the most beautiful girl on Earth—”

“Oscar, I swear to god if you don’t give me back my phone—” Some shuffling noises. You imagine Logan making a valiant attempt to wrestle his phone away from his friend.

“Hey, I am so sorry,” Logan says frantically. “Oscar’s literally a troll, ignore him…”

As if to confirm Logan’s words, you hear Oscar distantly shout, “What the fuck is a kilometerrrrrr?!”

You can’t believe this is happening. And you can’t believe you get to hear Logan’s voice again. You giggle. “Are you guys out or something?”

“Yeah,” Logan says in a pained voice. “Just at a bar with some guys. It’s so late—can I text you tomorrow? I’m so sorry again.”

“Of course.” You try not to sound giddy. “Hope you have a good time, Logan.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

You swear you see a handsome blond man, running in a navy windbreaker alongside the Thames river, in your dreams.

Logan Hey, so sorry about last night

Me Lolll no problem, your friend Oscar is quite the comedian

Logan 🤦 What are you up to?

Me Nothing much, just at work

Logan Nice :) Okay so tbh I’ve been out of town for most of this week...that’s why we were out so late last night we’re an hour behind But I’m coming back to London today and I was wondering if you might be down to go on a jog and just hang out or something

Me Oooh yeah sure I’m down! As long as we don’t end up in a hospital again 🚨🚨

Logan Hey That’s up to you ;) So it’s a date?

Me :)

Logan’s hoodie is soft against your face, and you inhale his woodsy cologne as you bury your cheek closer to his chest. 21 Jump Street is streaming on his TV, and the setting sun throws golden beams of light through the slats of his blinds onto the wall. An empty carton of vanilla Häagen-Dazs sits on his coffee table, two spoons sticking out of it. It really was the perfect way to wind down after a jog along the river—this time, sans anyone falling. Your eyelids begin to drift closed as Logan runs his fingers through your hair.

The movie cuts to an ad. “Some say Formula 1 isn’t really a sport…” a narrator intones.

You decide it’s time.

“Logan,” you say. “The craziest thing happened on Sunday.”

“Do tell,” Logan teases.

“I was just watching TV in the afternoon, and I just happened to see a driving race in Spain. I think it was for Formula 1, actually.”

Logan raises an eyebrow.

“It was the first time I’ve ever watched a race like that. In fact, I just watched it all the way through…”

“So you thought it was fun?” he asks innocently. You can tell he’s trying to suppress a smile.

“Yeah. But one of the drivers…it’s crazy, he just looked so much like someone I knew…”

“Really now? And who’s this someone he reminded you of?”

“Well,” you say, laughing, “this someone hates cardio, knows it’s called soccer but would rather watch football anyway, doesn’t know what a kilometer is...”

Logan’s laughing now too, and the sound fills you with flickers of warmth.

“This someone…makes me feel a lot closer to home.”

And judging by the way his arm tightens as he pulls you into a kiss, Logan seems to agree.

notes: logan is criminally underrated!! watching some of his interviews in the process of writing this made me realize how lowkey funny and laid-back he is. and so down to earth - he brought lemonade to his 10 things video. wishing him well on his season with williams 🥰

#f1 #f1 fandom #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 fluff #logan sargeant #logan x reader #logan sargeant x reader

[eeveearoace-creative]

calamity gray sneak-peak!

since i won't be able to work on my pokemon au for a little while (and it's been a few weeks since i've uploaded a chapter) but i don't have enough for a full chapter quite yet, instead enjoy a sneak peak for chapter 5 of calamity gray! <3

summoning the eevee simps: @arcadiii, @cl-oudyca-kes, @coconurt, @goodartitude, @karamelys, @peachpaws0

[if you want to be added/ removed from the tag list, just let me know!!]

“What do you think is gonna hatch from it?” 

Anne paused for a moment before lowering her magazine to watch as Sprig curiously poked at the green-and-white mystery egg, Bandit harshly slapping his hand away. 

“I dunno,” Anne shrugged, returning to her magazine. 

“Do you think it’ll be something rare?” Sprig asked. 

“Maybe it’ll be another Froakie, like Bandit?” Anne suggested. 

“Maybe...” Sprig murmured. “Or maybe it’ll be something even cooler!” 

“Kie.” 

“Er, no offense, Bandit,” Sprig laughed. Then, sighing, “But I guess that’ll just be another Pokemon for you either way, huh, Anne?” 

“I guess so.” Anne’s eyes skimmed over a page of her magazine titled “11 Tips to Know if He Likes You.” Anne wasn’t sure why she felt a wave of relief upon realizing that she couldn’t think of any boys who fit the behavior listed in the tips – wasn’t that something that was supposed to make her upset, not relieved? “But I’m new at this whole trainer thing, and I sort of already have my hands full with Bandit – I’m not sure if I could take another Pokemon right now.” 

Sprig gaped. 

“Wait,” he began, “So, you don’t think you’re gonna keep...?” 

“Well, it’s not that I don’t want to.” Anne finally put her magazine down. “But all of this is so new to me, y’know? The world, the creatures...” Anne sighed before pulling out her polaroid, staring at it longingly for a moment before slipping it back into her pocket. “It’s all just a lot.” 

“So, what you’re saying is,” Sprig continued, “You need someone to take this egg with a maybe rare, possibly never-before-seen Pokemon in it off your hands for you?” 

“Yep, that sounds about right.” Anne paused. “I’m not sure who, though. Maybe I’ll ask HopPop-” 

“I’ll do it!” Sprig yelped. “I’ll take care of the maybe rare, possibly never-before-seen Pokemon egg for you!” 

“Uh...” Anne swallowed. “Sprig, are you sure? You can be a bit...” Anne grimaced, “... distractible.” 

“What?” Sprig blinked. “I mean, yeah, of course! I can totally handle this.” 

Bandit glared at Anne, his expression reading don’t you dare. 

“Yeah, sure,” Anne shrugged. “Just be careful, dude.” 

“Heck, yeah!” Sprig cheered, pumping a fist in the air. “I got a super awesome Pokemon egg – no take-backs!” 

Scooping up the Pokemon egg from where it laid in the basement – Anne’s makeshift room ever since moving in with the Plantars – Sprig bounced up the stairs, ready to swing open the trapdoor with wild abandon. 

“What’re you guys doing down there?” Polly asked, opening the trapdoor right before Sprig could reach it. “And – wait, where are you going with that egg?” 

“Anne gave it to me,” Sprig bragged, sticking out his tongue at his sister as he shouldered past her. 

“What? That’s not fair!” Polly protested, reaching for the egg. “How come I don’t get an egg?” 

“Because I’m older,” Sprig sang, tugging the egg away from her. 

“So, what?” Polly demanded, yanking the egg back. “I’m more mature than you are!” 

“Are not!” 

“Am too!” 

“Are not!” 

“Am too!” 

“Hey, guys-” Anne flinched as the two Plantar children fought over the egg, “- maybe you shouldn’t-” 

“Are not!” Sprig ripped the egg from Polly’s hands. 

“Am too!” Polly grabbed the egg again, both Plantar children trying to pull the egg away from the other the hard as they could. 

Anne’s heart sank as the egg left both of their hands, dropping dangerously to the ground. 

Sprig and Polly both froze as Bandit leapt forward, saving the egg right before it hit the ground. 

#amphibia #amphibia fic #amphibia au #amphibia pokemon au #pokemon au #amphibia calamity gray #amphibia calamity gray au #calamity gray #calamity gray au #fanfic #my fanfic #writing #my writing

[eeveearoace]

About that pokemon AU

I'm guessing the legendaries will take the place of the calamity stones?

maaaaaaaaybe ( ˘ω˘ )

and you probably already know which ones... but i don't wanna say too much about it quite yet ;)

#kaivee rambles #anon #anonymous #ask #asks #amphibia au #amphibia pokemon au #calamity gray #calamity gray au

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Sunshine, Lollipops, and Rainbows 4

Warnings: non/dubcon, clashing personalities, exclusion, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: moody boy Curtis Everett x bubbly, plus-size reader

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You vow yourself to confinement. You will not leave your desk for any reason. You even brought a thermos of coffee. The container is a honey brown and the lid has bear ears, an animated face painted on the metal. It makes you smile despite the gloom that clouds you.

You don’t know how it happens. You always mean well but things always end up so wrong. So you’ve determined you’re better off on your own. Minding your own business and getting through the work day without calamity.

It’s lonely. You eat your lunch in your cubicle, watching a crochet video on the small screen of your phone. You still can’t figure out how to get just the right shape for the hippo you’ve been working on. It’s the final piece in your collection; to go along with the giraffe, the elephant, lion, and zebra. With your new job, you haven’t even had the energy to try.

You get back to work, eyes fuzzy as you stare at the spreadsheet. Millennia of human existence and for what? For excel and stale coffee? Is this really progress?

You reign in your wandering mind and work through the numbers. You just want to get through your first week. That will be a feat you can be proud of. You drain the last lukewarm sip from your thermos and pout. You could really use a refill but you will resist. You can’t risk it.

At the end of the day, you sneak out down the stairwell. You’re breathless by the time you reach the bottom, dizzy from the winding levels above. You shake it off and head off. You could use a nice hot bath, those office chairs are really not comfy.

Your night goes by as any does. You get your bath and eat some ramen before tucking into bed and mindlessly scrolling on your phone. You fall asleep with the light on and wake up to the blare of your alarm the next morning. 

It’s Friday! You get up and get dressed. A lilac skirt that buttons up the front and a frilly white blouse on top. You pull on a lemon yellow cardigan and a pair of matching flats. It’s bright and fun! Unlike anything else in that gray office.

You shove one of the pillows from the couch into your bag, the one that looks like a sprinkle donut, and grab your thermos. You race out to catch the bus and throw yourself into the day ahead. You just need to make it to the end and you have the whole weekend ahead of you.

Once at your cubicle, you settle in. You place the donut pillow on the thin cushion of the office chair and kneel on the floor as you work at readjusting the backrest and arms. You get up and plop down, testing the height and swiveling a bit. It’s slightly better.

You roll closer to your desk and boot up for the day. You reach for your pen cup but stop short as you find only the boring Bic sticks that overflow the supply cupboards. Huh?

You reach under your desk and grab your bag. You stir around, certain you careless slid your pen in there. You can’t find it! Your most favourite pen is gone. There’s a tiny penguin at the end and the pen’s body is filled with water and glitter that shimmers and looks like falling snow. Where is it?

Your panic has you searching the empty drawers of the desk and down on your knees crawling around. You don’t find it. You give up as your chest sinks and you mope at your monitor, clicking mindlessly on your Outlook and the company’s shared drive. 

You sit back and uncap your thermos. You take a drink and nearly choke. Oh no! It’s so bitter it leaves your tongue gritty. The filter must’ve split in the machine again. You let out a blech and get up, letting your chair roll back carelessly.

You go down to the break room and dump the coffee down the sink. That’s when you remember you’re not supposed to be in there. Shoot. You look around. It’s empty. You should have time enough to fill your cup.

You go to the machine and pick a pod from the rack. You don’t pay attention to the flavour, you just want coffee. You wait for the machine to grind and claim your cup as the brew stops below the brim. You quickly retreat back to your desk and sit, leaving the lid off the thermos to let it cool.

Ow! Your tailbone hits the thin seat and jars your spine. You get up and look down at the barren cushion. Your pillow is gone. What the heck?

You roll the chair around, thinking maybe you knocked it off when you stood up. It’s not that hard to miss. Nope, it’s gone. 

You look over at Dana as he yawns over a Starbucks cup. She has no donut under her bottom. Who would do that? Who would steal your pillow? You chew your lip and resign yourself to another day of discomfort.

You taste the coffee. Mmm, it must be the dark roast. It’s full-bodied and rich, slightly smoky. You don’t usually go for it, you prefer more caffeine. It might be good for you, you really don’t need the extra jitter.

You plant your elbow beside your keyboard and fall into your work. The office awakens around you. The clack of keys, the clicking of mice, and the low voices that rise and fall over cubicle walls. 

You lean back and check the time. Barely an hour in. You stretch your neck and massage your shoulders as you try to work out the kink of your poor posture. As you do, you sense a shadow approach Dana’s desk. You shift your chair and peek over, quickly wheeling back to your desk to hunch down and hide. It’s him.

“Phillips,” he calls her by her last name, “you still in charge of supplies?”

“Morning, Curtis,” she replies tritely, “what is it? We don’t have budget left for tech upgrades until end of month.”

“Coffee,” he growls, “dark roast.”

You tap your foot nervously. You didn’t know he liked the dark roast. If you did, you wouldn’t have taken the last pod. Maybe you should offer him what you have left… no, you should just leave him be.

“I’ll add it to the list,” Dana acquisces dismissively, “anything else?”

He grunts but doesn’t answer as he pivots on his heel. You peek up above the wall of your cubicle and immediately regret it. His attention is drawn by the movement and his eyes meet yours as his features twist into a scowl. You try to smile and he rolls his eyes before setting his shoulders and striding away.

Oh, you have an idea!

#curtis everett #dark curtis everett #dark!curtis everett #curtis everett x reader #sunshine lollipops and rainbows #series #au #drabble #snowpiercer

[thefabulousmilo]

Calamity Siblings

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@thisbelongsto-nohbodys, I don't know what you think of the fact that Percy has gray eyes, and Maddi has dark brown hair, like her grandmother.

#amphibia #amphibia fanart #anne boonchuy #marcy wu #sasha waybright #sashanne #sasharcy #marcanne #sashannarcy #fanchild #fanchildren

[iron-sparrow]

Whew, had to think about this one for several days. Hope you like these Yein Facts™ and don't forget to LIKE & SUBSCRIBE for more daily Yein content.

Many warm thanks to @sparrowsong-7 @lilbittymonster @thefreelanceangel @bunnyboybosom and @sealrock for the tags! ₊˚⊹♡

B A S I C S

Name: Yein Que-Sae/Yein of Iron

Nicknames: Iron, Sparrow, Little Sparrow, Little Bird, Chompers

Age: Somewhere between 35 and 40, they think?

Nameday: 32nd Sun of the 5th Umbral Moon

Race: Duskwight Elezen

Gender: None

Orientation: All

Profession: Free paladin ⛊ and also professional lover

P H Y S I C A L     A S P E C T S

Hair: Magpie

Eyes: Amber (damaged: citrine)

Skin: Iron gray

Tattoos/Scars: No tattoos, but they are covered in a lot of scar tissue. A lot of it is actually prominently displayed on their face; decorating their cheeks, cutting over one eye, and removing some of their lip to expose a bit of teeth. Their body has a number of scars earned through years of combat before their first death, plus torture marks clustered over their back.

They will also paint their face when they explore the Shroud, to hide from Elementals.

F A M I L Y

Parents: Eun Que-Sae † and Shiofrex Maz-Yeh †

Siblings: Their twin brother, Sacheo Maz-Yeh

Grandparents: Unknown †

In-laws and Other: Their little found family consists of their partners Nolanel and Derrinall, and a little fae creature calling herself Dinky Dinky. They also consider their mentee Odette to be family.

Pets: They care for sparrows due to spiritual/religious reasons, but they don't actually see or keep these as pets.

S K I L L S

Abilities: Yein is a stone-wielding paladin, so they do have some abilities based on the PLD class (through fancy aether manipulation). They can also see the dead, and communicate more meaningfully with said dead people via rituals.

Hobbies: Sparring, writing poetry, collecting books (with mostly illustrations), foraging the woods, tending to their hidden shrines, and doing various forms of physical exercise ( ◡̀_◡́)ᕤ

T R A I T S

Most Positive Trait: Their big, big heart! They make sure to leave space for everyone they meet.

Most Negative Trait: Often thinks they know best. Also, they're pretty stubborn.

L I K E S

Colors: Gold, black, and bright reds

Smells: Burnt wood, fresh soil, Ul'dah after heavy rains, curry on the stove, and most flowers ❀

Textures: Silk and loose linens, worn leather, cool tile on bare feet

Drinks: Black iced coffee, Gridanian whiskey

O T H E R    D E T A I L S

Smokes: Eh? Not cigarettes, but see "Drugs" below.

Drinks: Yep! Not as much as they used to, but they like a tasty beverage.

Drugs: Only sometimes, and only if the grass is really good.

Mount Issuance: They have a loyal chocobo, Arbiter. He was bred for the Thanalan heat and served as a very good companion to Yein in life. When they died, Arbiter was found by Sacheo searching the place where Yein was last seen/killed.

Been Arrested: Yes! They were briefly held as a political prisoner while still serving the Sultana, prior to the Calamity. Shockingly, they've managed to stay out of Gridanian gaols.

₊˚⊹♡ Tagging @prudentfolly @this-is-ris @nolanel-corbeaux, @guillotine-of-the-snake @justatheo @archaiclumina @chadhunkler @abyssalmermaiden Very sorry if you've already been tagged! (•ᴗ•,, ) I tried to avoid duplicates.

#tag game #ffxiv rp #oc basics #duskwight #elezen #yein my beloved #hope you enjoy the Yein lore! #also tagged ppl with alts #no pressure as always #this was another excuse to pose them #thank you Pigeon for PROFESSIONAL LOVER #open invite to all #I wanna learn about all ur OCs

[science-lings]

Totk Theory: The Sages, the Dragons, and the Zonai

Ever since botw I've been interested in where the champion's powers came from. With totk, that question was answered, or was it? Sure, each sage has an ancestor who had the same abilities, but both Dinraal and Farosh have corresponding powers to existing sages despite being draconified Zonai. (see the stiff white hair with glowing sections, long ears, and thick stubby eyelashes)

Rauru's stubby little horns are also pretty dragon-coded

But, how could that be? the Sages of Fire and Lightning aren't Zonai, and there are no more instances of repeating abilities. Except with Zelda inheriting her power over Light from Rauru, her Zonai ancestor. Despite looking nothing like a Zonai herself.

Rauru and Mineru were the last of the Zonai, or at least, the last 'pure' Zonai. Rauru and Sonia had to have a child to continue the royal like to the point where Zelda contained both of their kinds of magic. Who says that the Zonai of 'long long ago' didn't get friendly with the other races, most notably, the Gorons and the Gerudo.

This could also explain why there are a few notable Gerudo in the past with gray skin, a very uncommon trait to have. Perhaps that's why Ganondorf is even able to obtain and utilize the secret stone in the way that he has, because he's got Zonai blood, more than most of the sages, or at least the ones with useful magic. (let's be real, being able to turn yourself into a ghost wouldn't be the best power to have in a fight.)

Perhaps that's why Farosh flies the length of the Gerudo Highlands, getting as close as she dares to the desert that she may have once called home, and why Dinraal coasts by Death Mountain's foot. perhaps there was once a bloodline that carried the power of ice in Lanayru, maybe it stayed dormant in some sheikah inventor that incorporated their power into the sheikah slate. (good idea for an oc huh)

I just think it's odd that we're meant to believe that the Zonai just... died out. We're led to believe that they were godlike and mighty and full of magic, but also able to disappear without much explanation. But maybe they didn't die out, they just became a part of Hyrule, a part of her people. Maybe there weren't many of them to begin with, and they connected with the people around them. Leaving only Rauru and Mineru as the last of them left who could be considered fully Zonai.

This could also explain why the Heroes aspect looks so funky, bc they're part Zonai, part... something else, or many something else's, something with a lion tail that has the little poof on the end. The Ancient Hero is supposed to have existed long after the zonai (Rauru and Mineru) died off, in the time of the first calamity, but they're still very obviously closely related to the Zonai.

TLDR: Hyrule is absolutely full of people who would procreate with alien dragon people and it has some funky effects on their descendants.

also disclaimer: I don't mean to make the whole Zonai bloodline kind of thing sound so eugenics-y, I know the wording isn't perfect on this post but I'm also not sure how else to word it, so just know that I don't mean to offend anyone or sound weird when it comes to fantasy race intermixing. This is genuinely just a theory for fun and I don't want to sound rude to anyone.

#totk #totk theory #tears of the kingdom #totk spoilers #loz totk #zelda totk #legend of zelda #the legend of zelda #zelda #totk theory post #zonai #totk dragon #totk sages #ancient hero's aspect

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Tenshi

Debut: WarioWare, Inc.: Mega Microgame$!

I know what you're thinking. It's been four grueling days since the last post about some kind of fictional cube. Don't worry! Cube delivery right here! Even the most humble of gray blocks is a beautiful and valuable thing. Far too valuable for some schmuck like ME to touch with my oily, mortal, mammal skin. Only the divine can be trusted with delivering this block!

This gray block is the ground for our feathered friend Pyoro! He needs to eat those Beans, and if he can't stand on a solid surface while doing so... well, I can't stand to imagine such a calamity! The beans are ruthless. Just a single gently drifting bean can obliterate a poor block, making a gap Pyoro cannot cross, restricting his movement! What Bad Beans!

But even among Bad Beans, there are some Blessed Beans! When this funny bird eats the right bean, something happens. The heavens are notified. God must intervene. Even if He may have been watching over the entire universe, He knows something dire has happened in one small area. He can't let the beans prevail. He must send His angels!

That's what Tenshi means! It means Angel. This is one of those funny situations where an entity's name is just a regular word in Japanese, but it has never technically been referred to in English, so we gotta just accept the Japanese name as official until further notice. They come bearing gray cubes from above for Pyoro to scuttle atop! Anything to let him eat some more beans! It's a very important matter!

In WarioWare Gold's remake of Pyoro, as well as Super Pyoro, the Blocks have received a makeover! Please let me know if you were a Gray Block Enthusiast who is miffed about them now being made of real dirt and grass and looking kinda Minecrafty! I feel neutral to good about the change, though. It's a handsome block. Maybe it can be argued that it lessens the strange ambiguity of Pyoro's whole situation for the blocks to be more "realistic". But if that is a concern to you, then maybe you should think about other things. Sorry. Look, Tenshi now has a halo in game! Yay.

Super Pyoro introduces a few new mechanics to the classic gameplay, including a new Hidden Bonus Area in space! Here, beans abound on conveyor belts, being put there by food service Tenshi wearing little uniforms! Retail workers are the real angels!

To get to this stage, you must allow a beanstalk to grow by letting a bean fall through a hole in the ground... will you sacrifice one of our beloved Blocks to let this happen? Is it worth it? Does the presence of unique Cloud Blocks in the bonus area make up for it? It is up to you! And up to Anubis when he inevitably weighs your heart someday! I hope you made the right decision!

Tenshi is a very Ko Takeuchi character design, by which I mean it is one of those very simple Little White Guys he is always drawing. All the time! Rhythm Heaven is full of them, not nearly limited to just the Chorus Kids, and WarioWare gets its fair share of them, too! What can I say! The man just loves to draw Little White Guys!

#tenshi #angel #pyoro #super pyoro #warioware #warioware inc mega microgames #warioware gold #mario #mario allies #wario #wario allies #mod chikako