#more power to those who do he/they sig though

[flecks-of-stardust]

all pronouns innocence and no pronouns wind. you agree

#/hj #i’m flip flopping on innocence #but i’ve tried very very hard to avoid using pronouns for wind #canon doesn’t give me pronouns? okay! you just have none #rain world #unparalleled innocence #grey wind #chasing wind #look we get so little about these two #i Will make content for them if only out of pity #i think they’re interesting #i just have. thoughts. on pronouns for the iterators idk #sig is they/neos to me #more power to those who do he/they sig though

[flowerandblood]

Green Snake, Red Lion

[Slytherin • Aemond x Gryffindor • female]

[warnings: swearing, fluff, physical violence]

[description: Aemond is a Chaser and captain of the Slytherin team. His biggest rival on the pitch from the Gryffindor team, turned to be his biggest fan, and he hates her with all of his heart. His hatred towards her slowly turns into something else, when she one day stands up for his sister, Helaena. This is a slow burn love story.]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

______

Aemond left his team's tent furiously. Slytherin lost to Gryffindor by only ten points, as none of the Seekers managed to catch the Golden Snitch before time. Even though Aemond wasn't the only Chaser, he was the captain and he couldn't stand that the opposing player that he had the biggest problem with was a petite, inconspicuous girl.

Solren was a Chaser for the Gryffindor team. She was slim and of slight build so she was fast, agile and light on the broom. It was hard to keep up with her.

She appeared and disappeared suddenly, knocking the Quaffle out of his hand. He was often brutal with her on the pitch, she had more than one strong collision with him which she paid with bruises. He hated her with all his heart.

Even though he repeatedly told his Beaters, his brother Aegon and Darec, to keep an eye on her, they couldn't keep up with her. She dodged the Bludger nimbly, flying remarkably on her broomstick.

She was able to do various stunts on it, much to the delight of the audience. Aemond looked at it with embarrassment. He thought that she was just showing off, trying to get the applause. Nevertheless, nothing annoyed him more than her behavior off the pitch.

He felt like there wasn't a person in the world who loved him more than she did. She praised his skills over, his speed on the broom and the power with which he could throw the Quaffle over the hoop from afar. She always cheered him on at all the Slytherin matches, except of course for those played against Gryffindor.

She never imposed herself on him like the girls who tried to sneak him a love potion drink, but the joy and optimism she felt when she was around him drove him crazy. Sometimes he wanted to punch her. He thought she was just stupid.

He rolled his eye impatiently, letting out a sound of frustration as he walked across the grass to the school grounds and saw Solren waving at him from afar.

She had a cotton swab up her nose, which was oozing blood, another reminder of the collision with him when she tried to take the Quaffle from him. He pursed his lips, thinking that even his elbow in her face didn't bring him victory.

"I'm going to the infirmary right now to see Madame Pomfery, because I think you broke my nose." She laughed a little, as if she was talking about something funny. He looked at her incredulously, not stopping, looking away, impatient.

"I don't know if it makes sense, because I'll probably break it again in the next match." He spoke teasingly and coldly.

She burst out laughing at his words, as if his attitude didn't scare her at all. She pursed her lips in an apparent attempt to contain herself, her eyebrows twitching in helpless amusement.

"Come on, why are you so aggressive. If I broke your nose, you wouldn't stop playing either." She said low, and he gave her a dispassionate look.

"Do you have to follow me?" He asked in frustration, wondering why, among such huge fields of free space, she had to be right next to him, talking to him. She raised an eyebrow at his words.

"I'm sorry that I'm going in the same direction." She muttered, feigning an offended tone, walking a few steps ahead of him, shooting him a defiant look. With a gauze pad stuck up her nose she looked comical to say the least, and she knew it.

"You'll get back at the Ravenclaws. I will be cheering for you." She said with a smile and moved forward quickly, ahead of him. He sighed heavily as she disappeared from his sight.

She always chatted with him after the match. She congratulated him on every success on the pitch with an excitement and joy that left him completely off balance.

He usually didn't answer at anything she said, but she didn't mind that at all. He wondered if maybe she just want to fuck him, like the other girls who had tried to get his attention, with varying degrees of success.

He rejected the thought, however, because she always approached him in public, in front of other people or in plain sight. She didn't try to drag him into the restroom or other secluded places where he satisfied his temporary physical needs with various girls. He had absolutely no idea what to do with her or how to discourage her.

She used to come to all his matches, watching him play. She even painted a banner with his name on it, green and white with tissue paper patterns, which she happily held up in the audience, embarrassing him. His teammates often laughed at her and, wanting to humiliate her, approached her openly about it, asking if she was in love with him.

She replied that she thought Aemond was the best player in the school and that he was her biggest inspiration and authority. She said it so lightly and with such joy that his buddies finally let her go, finding her behavior even cute.

He noticed that she also sometimes praised them after a match if she thought that they played well. She was the only Gryffindor that they talked to without irony in their voices.

He thought that she was an attention-seeking whore, painfully craving the applause of others. She would say all these nice things to have someone praise her too, pat her on the head, tell her how sweet and kind she was.

He was furious when he saw her talking to Helaena in the corridor. His sister was in Ravenclaw. Withdrawn, quiet, a bit mysterious, she sometimes said strange, ill-considered things. He knew that some people in her household avoided her because of this, considering her a weirdo. Aemond knew that she had a naive, tender heart, and that Solren must have easily wrapped her around her finger.

"Stay away from my sister." He'd told her once when he'd approached her after a match, all hot. She gave him a puzzled, confused look, not smiling for the first time when she saw him.

"What?" She asked, as if she couldn't believe what she was hearing. He moved closer to her, so that no one could hear the exchange between them.

"Stay away from my sister. She is naive, she might believe that you actually like her. But I know that you're a bigger viper than most Slytherins I know." He hissed, leaving her pale and shaken.

There had been a change in her since then that pleased him. She stopped approaching him after matches, stopped bringing that fucking banner, and finally gave him a break from her outward appearances. He thought with relief that she would finally let him go.

One day, entering the Great Hall, he found a scene that knocked him off his feet. His sister was crying softly as she knelt looking at something on the floor between the long tables, a good distance from him. Solren was leaning over her, her back to him, stroking her head. He could barely hear what they were saying.

"He killed Meles. My spider, he was so attached to me." Helaena whispered in a trembling voice, looking at her for understanding and comfort. Solren nodded.

"I know, I'm so sorry. We'll give him a funeral on the common, what do you say?" Solren asked, and Helaena smiled sleepily.

"Do you think I could sing to him?" She asked, and Solren gave her a light, warm laugh.

“We can come up with some kind of funeral march for the spiders. Meles won't be offended for sure." She said softly, Helaena seemed a little less broken than she had just a few seconds ago. The Ravenclaw beside them, apparently responsible for Meles' murder, shook his head in disbelief.

"You're both abnormal. It's just a worm, and this girl is crying like she's lost her mind. Are you sure you shouldn't be at St. Mung's?" He asked Helaena loudly, amused, leaning over her with a biting smile. Solren straightened up, frowning.

"Apologize." She said threateningly, clearly angry. The boy laughed at her words.

"Fuck you and your "magic creatures", play fun funeral for your sweet spider together." He said amused and turned to leave, but Solren grabbed his robe and pulled him so that he nearly fell.

"Apologise, you bastard!" She snarled, and they both began to grapple with each other.

"Fuck off!" He said, grabbing her arm aggressively, trying to pull her away.

Aemond was about to step in and interrupt but Cregan Stark, captain of the Gryffindor team, stopped him. He was a tall, robust dark-haired man, who lifted Solren with ease, tossing the kicking, angry girl over his shoulder.

"Calm down." He said, carrying her back to the Gryffindor table, obviously not wanting his house to lose points. Solren paid no attention to it and pointed her finger at the boy with whom she had just almost fought.

"I will fucking kill you!" She hissed and sighed loudly, lowering her head, letting Cregan put her on the floor after a moment.

He saw them talking about something for a while, Stark trying to calm her down as she gesticulated aggressively, obviously taken over by the whole situation. Her gaze met his and she stopped suddenly, frowning and she turned her face away.

Aemond walked over to his sister and helped her to get up. Helaena held the spider in her hands, or rather what was left of him after he had been crushed.

"I'm sorry." He spoke softly, not knowing how to comfort her. Helaena looked at him sleepily as if she hadn't quite heard what he said.

"We're giving him a funeral. Will you come with us?" She asked, looking at him hopefully.

He wanted to refuse but he thought that he had done nothing to stand up for her. He didn't even react when Solren struggled with that Ravenclaw. He sighed and just nodded his head.

After several minutes the three of them met behind the school grounds in a clearing, under one of the trees. Helaena thought that was the perfect place to bury her dead friend.

Solren brought a small cardboard box into which they placed the remains of his body and closed the lid. Helaena dug a small pit with her hands and placed the box in it, then shoved it all back in.

Helaena and she step back, his sister taking Solren's hand, apparently seeking comfort in her difficult time. Solren stroked her fingers, pursed her lips, real concern on her face. Helaena looked like she wanted to say something, but she couldn't. After a moment she turned to Solren.

"Will you sing something? I was going to do it, but for some reason I have a very tight throat." She said, sighing softly, her eyes red.

Solren looked at her, then at Aemond, not knowing what to do. She cleared her throat quietly, bewildered.

"I don't know what song would be appropriate for your friend." She said softly, uncertainly. Helena smiled.

"Sing what you think that he might like." She said, squeezing her hand tighter.

They stood there, staring at the mound of fresh earth in front of them. Solren opened her mouth after a moment.

When trust takes you over When the sleep of just falls on your head The moment you shut your eyes, I, under the cover of the night, will run away as far as I can I'll run becasue I can't take it no more I'll run before this love makes me devour you whole ‘Couse the more I want of you, the less I got of me Forgive me Oh-oh-oh-oh Sleep, my love, sleep

She sang it in such a way that it sent shivers down his spine. The song was primal, folk, magical, slow, from the depths of her chest. He was surprised at how pleasant her voice sounded. Helaena looked at her equally surprised, squeezing her hand tighter.

“It was beautiful. Thank you." She whispered.

The three of them walked back to the school grounds, Solren and Helaena still holding hands, walking ahead of him together as if they were a couple. He thought he had judged her very hastily. He looked down, discouraged and tired.

They escorted Helena to the dormitory. As she disappeared through the door, they both looked at each other in silence. He knew that the Gryffindor had a high-stakes match against the Ravenclaws tomorrow. If they won the match, they'd make it to the competition finals on points, even if they lost the next match to Hufflepuff and Slytherin.

"Good luck tomorrow." He said low, turning and walking down the stairs, leaving her with a shocked expression on her face.

The next day, his Slytherin teammates were talking about the upcoming match. He wasn't in the habit of watching them, except from the sidelines, knowing each team's tactics perfectly well.

He was sitting on the couch in their common room, reading a book, preparing for his Potions exam. Aegon walked over to him, sitting on the couch across from him.

"Will you come to the match with us? It's going to be a good show." He said low, brushing his hair casually.

Aemond wanted to answer automatically no, but hesitated. For some reason he wanted to see her fly on a broomstick from the side. Does she have any weak points. He decided that as her opponent, he should have been better acquainted with her personal way of acting on the pitch.

He agreed.

He and his friends settled in the audience. There was beautiful, sunny weather all around them. Some of the Slytherins started whistling and howling as the Gryffindors came onto the pitch. He thought it was childish and watched the whole spectacle dispassionately.

As Professor Hooch released the Golden Snitch and the match began, he was surprised to see how nimbly and quickly Solren grabbed the Quaffle.

She maneuvered confidently and lightly among the other players, not even giving them a chance to react. She immediately hit one of the hoops, making the entire Gryffindor audience roar in ecstasy and joy.

She and the other chaser flew like clockwork, exchanging positions. Several people clapped and shouted with joy as Solren dodged the Bludger, turning the broom 360 degrees without losing focus.

He thought, looking at her sideways, that he was not surprised that he had a problem with her and had to resort to violence.

She played perfectly.

He also noticed, surprised, that she sometimes used his own tricks and feints in the game. He hadn't noticed it before.

He didn't realize that she was actually modeling on him.

He felt a cold sweat on his neck at the thought that everything she had said to him was true.

She really treated him as her authority, and he humiliated her.

He pressed his lips against the unpleasant tightness in his stomach, which he didn't like at all. He didn't want to feel guilty but he knew that he had misjudged her very, very badly. He looked down, thinking of Helaena. That she was the only one standing up for her.

The only one who wasn't laughing at her.

He jumped in place as the rest of the audience when he heard screams and squeals. One of the contestants hit Solren in the head with a Bludger, she spun on her broomstick and fell from a considerable height to the ground, her body limp. He stared at it with wide eye, his mouth parted in disbelief.

"Oh fuck me! Is she alive?!" Said one of his colleagues, horrified, for some reason no one was laughing anymore.

"Sweet Merlin, he hit her right in the head! The only Gryffindor girl I liked to talk to!” Someone else said, there was a commotion around him.

The judge stopped the game by running over to the girl, checking her pulse. Several people from the hospital wing quickly ran to her and lifted her onto a stretcher. Aemond stared at the entire scene unable to move for some reason. He heard the loud pounding of his heart in his ears.

After the game, he sat with everyone in the common room, completely absorbed in his thoughts. All they discussed was the accident, exchanging guesses and information from the hospital wing.

"She still didn't wake up. Poor girl." One of the Slytherins said, sighing heavily. Her other friend laughed, waving her hand.

"Come on, one less Gryffindor is better for our team, right Aemond?" She asked him sweetly, clearly remembering their one-time toilet experience, still hoping for more. Aemond looked up at her.

"Shut the fuck up." He hissed, staring at her with a stony face, his eye dark and dangerous. The girl swallowed loudly, confused and scared, looking away.

He got up from the couch, ignoring the curious eyes of several people who had heard his outburst and left the common room, heading for the hospital wing. He thought that he would go crazy if he didn't go there.

He went inside, looking around. Apart from Solren no one was there, the setting sun pouring in through the great, gothic windows. He walked over to her bed, looking down at her, her head covered with a large bandage, her eyes closed in a deep sleep.

He stood there, staring at her, unable to say anything for a long time. His lip quivered, his heart pounding hard as he finally managed to get it out.

"Forgive me."

_____

What can I say. I love it so much I couldn't wait any longer to show you this. Song that I used in this chapter is real. It's an english translation of first verse of song by Kayah & Bregovic - Śpij kochanie, śpij. You can listen to original, polish version of this song on YouTube. Śpij kochanie, śpij means: Sleep my love, sleep.

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @astral-blossoms @randomdragonfires @amirawritespoorly @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13

#aemond x oc #aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond one eye #aemond fluff #aemond smut #aemond x y/n #hotd aemond #prince aemond #aemond the kinslayer #aemond x reader #aemond x fem!reader #aemond fanfic #aemond fandom #modern aemond #modern!aemond #ewan mitchell x reader #ewan mitchell fanfic #ewan mitchell #hotd smut #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #hotd fluff #hotd x you #modern aemond x reader #modern aemond smut #modern aemond targaryen

[modmamono]

Fun Puyo Puyo Fact for you power scalers out there.

The more Ls one takes one after the other the stronger they are. Because in general, the loser gets exhausted after losing, meaning they don't have it in them for a rematch. So getting back on their feet is impressive.

Lemres, Possessed Klug, Satan, Ecolo, Ex, Marle, and Squares all operate(d) on this.

Squares in particular was on steroids, like 8 losses so close to each other. The one time he did one Marle was holding back.

To be fair the last few weren't hostile but he's still outdoing Satan.

Satan's highest losing streak was either 4 or 5 in 20th's final story. It's legit nothing to him. He can keep on playing until you're exhausted at winning. (Someone turn that into a comedy fanfic, please... or a dramatic one.)

Doppelganger Arle I guess is a glass cannon retroactively. She took one defeat and bolted out of there. Which is a little amusing.

And Rafisol perhaps shouldn't be judged by the same standards. She's a final boss in an RPG. The numbers she has should speak for her. Though it was 3-v-1.

The point of this post is I just find it funny that you can tell who's strong overpowered if they lose and go "That didn't count, let's go again!" It's inherently oxymoronic.

But in most if not all cases it does show it shows those guys are decent people.

Satan usually just leaves it at one match. Despite him being the one most capable of abusing it, it is often casually implied he is the strongest there is after all. Nobody comes close, even steroid Squares.

Possessed Klug loses one after the other, it's just Sig and Raffina bolt out of there before he can get up and rechallenge them. And maybe PKlug could have another go if Amitie didn't go:

He is brought down on his knees 3 times though. But that could mean anything.

I think Lemres reached more than his limit after all of the Fever 2 Waku Waku Courses because he's absolutely wrecked. He Puyo'd too much in the sun.

The Squares gauntlet is more about trying to de-escalate him than actually fighting Squares. But also demonstrates the BS "that didn't count" thing to its logical extreme. Satan could be that if he wanted too, but unlike Squares he isn't attempting to do something evil.

Only about 5 or 6 matches Squares partakes in are actually serious. He is successfully convinced he did a bad eventually, and the final few matches aren't antagonistic as a result.

Honestly, now that I think about it. The fact losers are kinda drained by a losing a Puyo match, and Squares almost exploding because he had too much power, would imply the final battle, a skill battle, is everyone Puyo-ing him at once to curb his powerful tummy ache. (I mean that's always stated, just I have more clarity now I think.)

Besides maybe Tee I think everyone else just doesn't rematch after a loss. They are consistent about this.

I'm not into power scaling persé, I don't like rating things like that and deciding who or what is only worth my time. That's reductive and dumb taking things with personalities, experiences, stories, and lore into account especially.

But I think it says something about these strong characters that's more than "Satan could beat Goku".

Ecolo and Satan, the two most recurring ones that can pull the "That didn't count" but usually don't tells us a lot about them.

That and as I said I find it funny. This is like so funny, flies in the face of logic. The more you lose in quick succession the stronger you are.

Also it's a Puzzle game, Satan may have the highest AI, but that still put him on equal grounds with Onion Pixie.

#puyo puyo #power scaling #satan #dark prince #ecolo #doppelganger arle #lemres #possessed klug #strange klug #ex #rafisol #marle #squares

[descendant-of-truth]

So I was thinking about what Klug could realistically know about the book demon and its connection to Sig, given that it's so rarely elaborated on, and my conclusion is: more than he wants you to think he does.

Exhibit A: the ending of Fever 2

The first thing that needs to be addressed is the fact that Klug is Right There while Ayashii is monologuing. I guess we don't really know what it's like to be trapped in a book, so there's nothing to suggest either way if he can hear anything... but we do see him look at stuff. Even if he can't hear, he can definitely see, so I think it's reasonable to assume that he'd notice a shift in Aya's demeanor when it sees Sig.

And if he wasn't looking at Aya, then surely he noticed that Sig's hand started glowing and his other eye turned red, right? Hopefully? If he wasn't too busy wallowing in despair, I suppose. Oh, the limits of character portrait-based cutscenes...

He doesn't seem to forget that the possession happened, though. When he's returned to normal, he's not confused about what's going on, he just tries to save face by saying it was all totally according to plan. And while he never brings it up again, I don't think it's ever been strongly implied that he forgot about it - if he did, one would assume that it'd be mentioned in his new Puzzle Pop bio, since it already references the event directly.

So, he likely remembers this, and if he was being observant enough, he could've at least noticed something was up with either Sig or Aya - maybe even both of them.

Exhibit B: Sig's story in 20th Anniversary

So, this part of the theory relies a lot on Klug's line delivery, so I'll include a link to the scene I'm going over. (It's got the timestamp ingrained in the link, but just in case, it starts at 12:49)

Structurally, this scene is... kind of odd, if you take Klug at face value? He's quick to ramble about everything he knows regarding Sig's arm when prompted, no arguments involved, but then he just. says that he doesn't know what any of it means, and demands a Puyo Battle as compensation for wasting his time.

Like. ???

You mean to tell me that Klug, the guy who's obsessed with gathering knowledge, who prides himself on being the know-it-all who can answer any question thrown at him, would be satisfied with saying he doesn't know something? Yeah, I don't buy it.

Let's go over what he says in more detail, and pay special attention to those line deliveries.

Klug speaks very softly during this whole section, as though he's lost in thought. I want to draw special attention to the line, "in comparison to the book I have here..." It's subtle, but his voice actually wavers a little bit on the last syllable. And he all but whispers the last half of "It's as if it's identical in nature," as if he's talking more to himself than Sig at this point.

He keeps up this vaguely ominous, deep-in-thought tone for the rest of his dialogue, until something very interesting happens.

As he's going on about the Weird Vibes he gets whenever he's around Sig, he seems like he's about to go into more detail... and then Sig makes an innocuous "huh" sound.

Which is exactly when Klug pivots to sharply saying that he has no idea what they are. He doesn't sound irritated or panicked, just... I dunno, comfortably back in his usual, uppity tone.

Suspicious.

Amitie proceeds to theorize that the blue thing that sometimes comes out of Sig's back may have a connection with the red thing in Klug's book, and what do you know, Klug actually stutters when he denies the possibility.

Suspicious.

Awfully bold of Klug to say that there's no way the two things could be connected after he just said that Sig's arm and his book feel like they have the same power, by the way.

This whole exchange reads to me like Klug got carried away with the topic of Sig's arm, and ended up saying a lot more than he planned to. He only snapped out of it when Sig's voice alerted him to what he was doing, and then he started hastily covering up his tracks. He had to dismiss Amitie's theory, not because he genuinely thinks she's wrong, but because he knows she's right.

And for some reason, he can't let them know that.

So I gotta ask. Why? What's he trying to accomplish by covering up what he knows? He likely doesn't even know the full story, so what does he think will happen if other people find out?

Maybe he just doesn't want anyone else learning about the book before he can make its power his own. He is rather possessive of it, continuously renewing it from the library with no intention of ever giving it back. Even with his tendency to blab, I could see him wanting to keep something like this a secret. Not just for the eventual power, but as a special something he knows that nobody else does - anything to boost that sense of superiority, even at risk to himself.

...And maybe, in the depths of his tsundere heart, he's trying to protect Sig a little bit, too. He knows that the demon is dangerous, and probably doesn't want to find out what would happen if Sig started pursuing it for answers. Plus, if he did notice Aya gunning for him back in Fever 2, then all the more reason to be wary.

(I'd still posit the idea of him trying protect himself as his primary motivation, and the only one he'd ever acknowledge, but I'm taking my "Klug cares about his friends" crumbs wherever I can, okay)

Of course, if his ears were working in spirit form, then that suggests he knows way more than I've been assuming, but. I'm not sure his behavior really matches up with that idea? He sounds like he's genuinely speculating about Sig and the book here, which would be a little weird if he heard it point and shout "AYO THAT'S MY DESCENDANT AND/OR TRUE FORM. GIMME"

...not that Sig himself seemed to hear that either, but that's besides the point

#puyo puyo #puyo puyo 20th anniversary #puyo puyo fever 2 #klug puyo puyo #strange klug #sig puyo puyo #analysis #theory #meta #spoilers for slimes #New theory question: why does nobody ever seem to hear the important parts of what Ayashii says skldmfsklm

[gale-gentlepenguin]

The city of lights in ruins, a world where the villain almost has the complete victory, and his last step is to catch the 2 heroes he's been chasing from the start. Our heroine, hidden by the shame of failing everyone. Our hero, knowing the truth about him and the villain, now with a ragged suit and hood, stopping everyone he can, just that this time, he completely erase them from reality. A last attempt of making him come to his senses our heroine returns just to see who he had become.

She said she wouldn’t run away anymore. In the 3 months she had hidden herself she had realized she couldnt hide forever. She needed to face the villain, she needed to help her partner, her comrade, her friend.

But as she arrived outside, the villain’s control over the city was… gone. The city was in ruins. The last thing she remembered was the city was basically under the complete control of her arch nemesis, but now… it was more like a ruins.

As the heroine looked around she did see it, people, they were hiding. She approached cautiously.

“Lady Luck?” A small child spoke.

The heroine turned to see the eyes of the small child filled with hope.

“Don’t worry young one, I’m back. And I will put an end to Tyrant’s reign.”

The child looked up to her.

“The Tyrant is gone…”

Lady Luck’s eyes went wide.

“What? But then why is the city like this?”

“Lady Luck?”

As soon as the hiding people heard the voice they grabbed the child and ran. Fleeing for their lives.

Lady Luck turned to the voice and saw a hero in a ragged suit, a hood covering his head, but the piercing green eyes were impossible to miss.

“Catlamity?”

The hero rushed and hugged her.

“I thought you were gone forever! Thank goodness you’re back!”

Lady Luck hugged her partner back. Relieved that he was still alive despite the hellscape that was their city’s remains.

The two broke the hug.

“So catch me up to speed, what exactly happened here… also what’s with the hood and tattered costume?”

Catlamity took a second.

“Oh right you’ve been gone for a while. So long story short, After you left I got captured by the Tyrant sent an order to capture us. But since you were gone, I was the only one left. And the citizens had turned against us. So that was tough. I was basically fighting the entire city. Even my friends were gunning for me.” He laughed as he mentioned the last part, clearly off kilter.

Lady Luck was silent as she listened.

“After a month of being hunted, I realized I was starving and tried to get some food… but they caught me and handed me off to the tyrant. And the tyrant tortured me for a few weeks, trying to get the info on where you were out of me, good thing I didn’t know where you were.”

Lady Luck felt that was a punch to the gut.

“Though in his arrogance he started talking about how once he captured you, he’d absorb our powers and create a new perfect world. Turned out that the Tyrant was my Father the whole time. Totally explains his distance. Can’t be a villain and a good dad.” Catlamity said as he tried to play off that disturbing tidbit

“Kitty…”

“So after finding that out and realizing I was a mess, so the Tyrant then thought it would be a great idea to Corrupt me and then turn me into one of his enforcers. Unfortunately for him, I decided to activate my power at the same time, so I completely destroyed everything in a 10 mile radius. Including him! Well I saved money on a funeral there. But the city is still a mess and filled of Tyrant supporters, so I’ve been cleaning up ever since.”

Lady Luck realized what he meant. The reason the city is in ruins, the reason they say the tyrant is gone, why the people are running in fear. It was Catlamity… he had destroyed the city.

“Alright, it’s okay. I can fix it all kitty.” Lady Luck said more to herself than to her partner.

“I know you can, so how do we flush out the last of the Tyrant supporters. I think a few fled while we were talking.”

Lady Luck felt her stomach drop.

“Catlamity, those aren’t villains. They were just…”

Catlamity sighed

“He got to you too.”

“Kitty you had your mind messed with, you aren’t well. I can fix this, I can use my powers and bring things to how they were before.”

“You mean where we have to protect an ungrateful city that betrayed us the moment a villain gets the upper hand. Go back to living under the Tyrant’s heel. Go back to the life of suffering in silence as my father’s pawn!? No, forget that! The city is perfect as it is, it’s in the state it was always meant to be, not a facade of lies and shiny mirrors. This is the true city, a rat infested hell scape where vermin claw and scheme to get ahead and will toss aside anyone in there way.”

Catlamity grabbed her shoulders.

“A city where your most trusted friend will leave you at the first sign of trouble.”

Lady Luck took a deep breath and kicked him in the gut, sending him backward into a wall.

“I’m sorry kitty, I’m sorry I left, I’m sorry for letting you suffer. I’m sorry for my cowardice and weakness… you have every right to hate me. But I can’t let you hurt anyone else. I won’t run away from my mistakes and regrets. I will save you, even if I have to die to do so. I’m not abandoning you ever again, no matter what.”

Catlamity stood up, a malicious grin appeared on his face.

“So be it Lady Luck. Once I end you, I’ll put an end to this rotten city and make sure to start a new. After all, before creation comes destruction”

#time to monologue #monologue ask game

[recklesslycaffeinated]

Do you have any random headcanons for the skeleton boys? I adore those criminals and wanna know even more 🥺

Sans

Sans is the only inmate at the prison who has a single cell, any book he wants, blueprints, other ‘inoffensive’ items, and pink slippers.

Sans can solve any Rubik's Cube in like, three seconds. But he'd never let anyone know that.

Sans saw Officer Harris stealing supplies and used it to blackmail him. However, Harris quickly realized Sans's influence and power at the prison was only going to grow, so he quickly picked Sans’s side. Also, Harris understood and secretly emphasized Sans's philosophy of life.

While Sans won't admit it, he's come to depend on Harris as one of the few stable relationships he has at the prison, or anywhere, right now. Though it’s a relationship he's very much in control over.

Warden Spratt has actually asked for Sans's advice on different things more than once. Usually, on how to handle the Prison Board.

If Sans could only kill one person at the prison before escaping, it would be Skull.

Red

Red hates Chess, but he doesn't mind Backgammon. He and Edge are not allowed to play Monopoly anymore after the Winter Solstice incident. Let's just say most of the damage was contained, but a number of collateral victims ended up in hospital.

Like Edge has retained the scars across his left eye socket, Red has retained his missing tooth (now replaced by a gold one). This is because both are carrying the psychological baggage from when they received the injuries, meaning they're unwilling or unable heal.

Red has no particular preferences in the bedroom area, other than enthusiastically willing. This actually isn't common for Monsters, as the majority prefer other Monsters because the Soul connection is deeper. As Red didn't give a shit about Soul connections (until he met the Reader), it opened up all sorts of possibilities.

Red's very confused by Reader, because he really wants to get her in the bedroom, but in his head, she's become as important to him as Edge and Sig. He has no idea what to do with that information. He'll just have to figure out what actual emotional 'love' is supposed to feel like.

As soon as Red gets out of prison, Edge is going to hit him around the head with a 'How to Date' book. This will cause a massive fight, naturally. Afterwards, Red will sneak away with the book.

Skull

Yeah Skull definitely killed more than ten people before he was arrested. But he can't recall how many and honestly doesn't care.

During Skull's first escape attempt (in the first month of his sentence), he killed two guards. Huxley had just joined the prison. He’d been there at the clean-up, permanently fixing him with the idea that Skull is an irredeemable animal.

The only word anyone had heard him say before the Reader arrived at the prison, was 'Crooks'.

Guards who were a little more sympathetic to Skull often reported that he'd wake up in the night screaming (not bellowing or growling). These reports were mostly ignored.

#sans #red #skull #headcanon #prison au

[nenilein]

Puyo Puyo Drama CD #2-2: Wishes to Santa (ENG Translation)

I forgot to post this here! Oops! Not used to using tumblr anymore...

Anyway, here is a complete text translation of the Christmas track from Drama CD Vol.2! (This CD was released in December , so it has both Christmas and New Years' tracks)

Have fun!

Wishes to Santa

[DISCLAIMER:

The Google Docs Version of this script is HERE.

Feel free to repost parts of it or the entire text wherever you want as long as you credit me as the translator!

Also, just so you can listen along, HERE’s the actual MP3 of the track.

Happy Holidays!!]

INTRO

Narration: Wishes to Santa

-

STORY

[Santa seems to be voiced by Lemres’ and Akuma’s voice actor, Takumi Yamazaki]

Santa: HO-ho-ho-ho! Tomorrow it will finally be Christmas Eve once again. The day when all the adorable children who have been so nice all year get special presents as a reward for their good behavior from me! Now, let’s see what presents this year’s children are wishing for from me, the one and only Santa Claus… Shall we open their letters? Well, let’s take a look…

SFX: *paper rustling*

Santa: I want a hat that is…

Lidelle’s Voice: …big enough so that, um… well… so that even I can wear it, please! If that’s possible, I mean.  

Santa: Oh-HO! How cute! Ho-ho-ho! There is nothing nicer than hearing of the pure wishes of innocent children, wouldn’t you agree? Now, for the next one…

Raffina’s Voice: Precious Metals!

Santa: Huh? Um… uh… Ahaha, what a straightforward wish! 

Raffina’s Voice: I desire the sorts with the highest feasibly possible market value! I am not quite aware what the upper limit for the monetary value of a present requested at this kind of occasion is, however, I believe it should be sufficient if you kindly packed in exactly as much as the maximum appropriate. 

Santa:  T-That’s…! Ah… Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear… H-How nice of her to worry about the status of my wallet. Hohoho! …Ahahahah… A-a very kind girl…I-I’m sure… L-let’s put this letter aside for now… Ahem, now, for the next one…

SFX: *paper rustling*

Feli’s Voice: I wish for a new doll. 

Santa: Oho! What a very adorable wish! Aha… What a relief… Alright, what else, what else? What kind of doll might the little girl want…?

Feli’s Voice: The last doll I used as a scape doll was unable to withstand the force of the curses I used it to cast and • Fell • To • Dust in the energy hole of the space distortion created. 

Santa: *shrieks of terror* S-Somehow this letter is making me shudder far more than expected…! 

Feli’s Voice: This time I want for a doll that will be powerful enough to withstand a Whole • Three • Months of my unbridled sentiments unscathed…!

Santa: W-WHAT IS SHE GOING TO USE THAT DOLL FOR…?! …Ho…ho… *shrieking Ho* …Hoho! I can tell this girl is very dedicated to her craft, yes, yes! …Yes… Um… N-Now, for the next letter… 

Sig’s Voice: Tissues.

Santa: H-Huh…? That’s all? …Oh my, oh my! I am sure this child has very good reasons for making this wish, very important reasons, even…

Sig’s Voice: I ran out.

Santa: THAT’S ALL!? How outrageously lazy! If you need tissues, go to the store, child!

Sig’s Voice: Too much work.

Santa: And that’s why you’re wasting your Christmas wish on this!? You only get one of those a year! …Oh my, oh my… HO-ho-ho-ho! This must be a very modest, humble child…! Ah, let’s put this aside for now… The next one is…

Klug’s Voice: I wish for a spellbook that has the GREATEST instructions to teach me to cast the MIGHTIEST of all spells! 

Santa: Oh my! What a studious child! Very nice. …Though, that all aside… The ‘mightiest’ spell, he says? What could he possibly mean by that…?

Klug’s Voice: Here is an example of the sort of spells the book may teach: The ETERNAL SUPER DARK MAX FORCE AURA BURNING LEMRES SPECIAL!! 

Santa: Um… huh… uh… How do I put it… This child certainly has dreams? 

Klug’s Voice: Casting this spell would cause the darkness around me to swirl around my body and coalesce into flames! No, wait, maybe it’d look cooler if  the darkness took the shape of a dragon…? And then I would shoot them out to badassly ascend into the heavens…! And I would gaze upon that sight with clear eyes and breathe out a gasp of awe…! So cooooool…!!

Santa: Oh dear, oh dear… That’s all very nicely produced, but I really do wish he’d written what exactly the spell’s effect is supposed to be…

Klug’s Voice: And then Raffina and Feli get lost.

Santa: IS THAT THE EFFECT?!

Klug’ Voice: That Raffina is such a brute! Whenever anything bothers her, her first idea is to resort to kicking it! Isn’t that just barbarous?

Santa: Why is he suddenly airing his personal grievances to me…? Oh my, oh my, oh my… This is certainly a very imaginative child with a very rich, emotional world…! Um… Ho-Ho-HO-HO! Eheheh…  Now, now… I-I-I w-wonder what the n-next one will be like…! 

Rei’s Voice: My living memories.

Santa: THIS GOT DARK FAST!

Rei’s Voice: I think… I saw something when I was still alive… But… I can’t remember what it was… 

Santa: *terrified shrieking* …I-I can’t b-bring something so d-depressing for a Christmas p-present! P-Please give me a b-break…! Ohoho…

Yu’s Voice: So, so! My turn…

Santa: Huh? Is it just me, or does this handwriting look a lot more cheery than the one before…? Let’s see…

Yu’s Voice: I want the souls of the departed still unwilling to de-part with their lust for life! Yay! Please and thanks! 

Santa: *incoherent shrieking* NONONO! I didn’t see that! I’ll just pretend I didn’t see that… OH-HOHOHO!

[His laughter sounds like he’s half-crying at this point.]

Santa: Um, well… Who is our next NICE child…?! *crying* Now, what do you want…?

Amitie’s Voice: Hello, Santa! I did my best to be good aaaall year, so will you please, please listen to my wish? 

Santa: *relieved laughter* Ah… Ahaha! Ah, finally someone who knows how to write a REAL letter to Santa… Now, THAT’S what nice children should be like! 

Amitie’s Voice: Say, Santa. You usually come in the middle of the night to leave your presents in secret, right? So, if I open up a window on the second floor of our school for you, would you please come through there for me? 

Santa: Hm? Why might she want me to do that? …Ah! Ahahah! I see! She probably wants to meet me. HO-ho-ho! Aw, I am sorry, all you children. Santa Claus is not allowed to show himself to you…

Amitie’s Voice: ‘Cuz, you see! There was a vase on that windowsill on the second floor. I accidentally broke it today! It was Ms. Accord’s favorite, soooo, let’s just pretend YOU did it, Santa! 

Santa: …What?

Amitie’s Voice: Please apologize to Ms. Accord for me! PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE!

Santa: A…ARE THERE NO NICE CHILDREN LEFT ANYWHERE?!

-END

#Puyo Puyo #puyo #PuyoPuyo #Neni translates #Puyo Pop

[douglasanondr]

Of the Standard ARS + Boss storylines, there is 1 character in each group that doesn’t have to be included.

As the name of this post states, among the various ARS + Boss storylines (Satan wanting Arle, the Crimson Demon, Ecolo, SpaceTime) there is “probably” 1 character among those groups that for all intents and purposes, doesn’t have to be there for the plot to move on. Is that a bad thing? No, and sure all those character’s can have their own stories, 20th and Quest are great examples but in talking about those stories in particular, if you got rid of those characters listed below very little would actually change narrative wise. 

Here are the characters I’m talking about:

Schezo Wegey (Satan/Arle storyline)

The Satan/Arle storyline is a plot point all of us should know at this point, it’s a reason half of these games even exist, but there is one thing in this story that I don’t see people talk about and that’s how important Schezo’s role in it is. Now his role is obvious, it’s to be a secondary opposition Satan in pursuing Arle, the reason being for his own means, he wants Arle’s power that one’s obvious, but people often overlook/not talk about one thing, it doesn’t have to be Arle. It’s been well established that he goes for other people other than Arle, in PPT Ch.9, 15th, TotM he goes after more than just Arle in those stories, and with the exception of Madou 2 how many times has he actively shown tailing Arle for her power instead of doing it cause the opportunity had risen. And while yes, Rulue also has a case for not needing to be part of the story, I ask you this. How many times has Rulue been against being a part of Satan’s shenanigans, and how many times has Schezo wanted to be involved in those same shenanigans, to be made fun of by everyone involved. If it was up to him, he’d probably choose not to be there.

Raffina (Crimson Demon Storyline)

This one’s the most obvious. Even if you don’t believe me, look at most fanart, fanfic and official media on this storyline, and tell me how much Raffina shows up in a prominent role in any of those. Even in Sig’s Secret, the most well known Crimson Demon story, she’s only there in the beginning and it’s because of school work. It’s kinda F*cked up when you think about it, she’s shown to be insecure when it comes to her own image and abilities, and she now dosen’t even fit in most sought after story about her own friends. What the f*ck SEGA.

Risukuma (Ecolo/Ringo Storyline)

This one was a toss up between him and Maguro, though I can make up a case for Maguro staying as oppose to Ris. Let’s be real here this entire storyline is a love story between an Ecolo who’s just happy to have someone remember him, and a Ringo who’s just wants to be friends. With this in mind, you could probably see where I’m going with this, Maguro is meant to be the rival character, the one meant to be the other interest in this weird love story. And from a symbolism stand point, Maguro is Ringo’s realism to Ecolo’s Curiosity. Ecolo’s there to intrigue her, entice her curiosity while Maguro's there to keep her grounded and going overboard. With that in mind, What’s Risukumas role in all this? Sure with his fascination with love, you could say he could play the role of an observer or mediator reocording oall his findings on this, but that’s not all that important to the story now is it.

Seo (Detectives Storyline)

This one might be the one that will change the most with the more games they appear in, along with the Risukuma take. With what I’ve seen so far (Because I don’t know Japanese, and the translation isn’t completed as far as I’m aware) Of the group involved in this storyline, Seo’s the one that plays the most passive role, with Zero and Eight being the bosses and Atari and Roquier playing the more active role. Makes sense, she’s the Boss of Atari and Roquier, she tells them where to go and what to do when needed, that’s great but not all that necessary to stick around for. Heck, in the beginning of the story she talked thru Puubot, and came to Pwurp cause the connection was finnicky, How more not needed can you get from that. Not hating though I love her interactions with Accord and Ecolo.

Now with all this being said, am I saying this is a bad thing. No, far from it. I just wanted to point out a pattern I saw among these groups that is probably just a coincidence. Sure, every character in each group can and has done a story on their own, 15th, 20th and Quest wouldn’t exist if they couldn’t. I just like that their are characters that are part of the main group but aren’t tied to the main plots and can do their own thing. Hell these 4 are some of my favorite characters because of it. 

All I’m saying is Schezo, Raffina, Risukuma and Seo should interact more, they can clearly do other things, it would be funny, they should be Friends.

#puyo puyo #Schezo Wegey #schezo puyo puyo #raffina puyo puyo #risukuma puyo puyo #seo puyo puyo #another long rant #if i'm wrong about any of these let me know

[cecilysass]

The Boy on the Beach (13/16)

Read on AO3 | Tagging@today-in-fic

Chapter 13: Unrecognizable and Upside Down

The soundtrack for this chapter is So Very Hard To Go, by Tower of Power from their eponymous album, released April 1973. This track reached #17 on the Billboard Hot 100, and #11 on Billboard R&B charts.

November 27, 1973 West Tisbury, Massachusetts

Mulder’s heart leapt. It was Scully.

Scully in a way he knew and loved her: holding a weapon, tousled hair, mud-stained clothes.

She stared back at him, her eyes shocked. Standing stock still, as though she had forgotten to take a breath.

He descended slowly down the stairs, his gun on Spender and his attention on Scully. There was a man’s body crumpled on the floor – fresh, from the looks of the still-expanding circle of blood. He stepped carefully around the perimeter of the body.

“What’s going on, Scully?” Mulder asked, keeping his voice calm and measured.

Now he could see her hands around the SIG were shaking; her face was damp with sweat and dappled with fresh scrapes. Scully was rattled. Much more rattled than typical when she was under pressure.

“Samantha?” she managed to say.

“She’s fine,” he answered, and he couldn’t prevent the tiny smile from creeping over his lips at those words. “She’s confused, but she’s fine. She’s upstairs.”

“And the other man?” Scully said, almost a whisper.

“Well, he’s not doing so great,” Mulder said.

“Who’s this?” Spender’s voice cut through sharply, forcing Mulder to give him his full attention.

He was a quarter century younger from when Mulder had last seen him, telling him tempting lies in his dream on the operating table. His face was smoother, hair darker, his mannerisms the same. With precision, he arced the aim of his small pistol from Scully to Mulder, his lips pursed.

“It’s kind of a long story," Mulder told Spender, a wan smile. "And you’re not my top priority.” 

“Mulder.” The word seemed to burst out of her—part sob, part laugh of relief. Her eyes were bright-hot and wet, only meeting his in half-second increments, darting back to keep Spender constantly in her aim.

“Glad to see you, too, Scully,” Mulder said softly, his gaze running over her. No sign of the anger she had for him before she left.

Spender’s attention snapped back and forth between them. “I’ve not had the pleasure of meeting this Mr. Mulder.”

“God, your head,” Scully remembered, ignoring Spender, her voice still quavering. “Mulder, your head– you’re in recovery, you shouldn’t have come…”

“Don’t worry about that now,” Mulder said tenderly, like it was just the two of them. “Couldn’t do anything about it.”

“You know a way to get back? We can both go back?”

“Yeah,” he said. “And I can explain it to you, but … maybe not right this second.”

“How did you even know where to find me?” Her face clouded. “How could you know where I went?”

“I’ll explain it all to you,” he said. “But don’t you think—”

“You’re Fox Mulder,” Spender spoke with a hushed realization. “You’re the boy, grown up. I see it now. You resemble him.”

Mulder reluctantly pulled his focus back to Spender, something cold and unpleasant coiling in his stomach.

A chilling smile spread over Spender’s lips.

“The technology of the future,” mused Spender, tilting his head. “Time travel. It’s extraordinary. Human in origin? Or … from somewhere else, perhaps?”

Mulder could hear Scully’s breathing speeding up.

“Oh, it doesn’t matter, I suppose,” Spender shrugged. “Well, naturally you’re an important player, Fox, given your parentage.” He tightened his grip on the pistol. “It gives me no pleasure to say that you’ve turned out to be a threat to me, rather than an asset. Fortunately, I’ve already got an idea of where you’re most vulnerable.”

He redirected the aim of his pistol from Mulder to a point somewhere over Mulder’s shoulder.

Whatever he had in mind, he wasn’t fast enough. Or maybe he just underestimated Scully. Mulder had no time to think it through.

A shot rang out.

Spender dropped to the floor, his forehead erupting in vivid fountains of blood. Scully stood with her SIG extended, a few bright droplets spattered over her face.

Mulder, petrified in shock, just gaped at her. Her eyes found his, and he was locked in her stare for a few breaths, unable to make sense of what had just happened.

“Scully,” he whispered.

“I had to protect them.” She looked down at Spender’s body, a crease on her forehead. “They would never be safe, when we went back, once he knew the boy would grow up to be a threat.”

Mulder shook his head, not knowing what to think. She understood that he was the boy, right? That he was one of the them she was talking about? Did she understand they weren’t in their own multiverse? He stared at Spender’s body, his feelings a stew of ambivalence. The man was, in all likelihood, his biological father. He was also a man who had cut into his brain with little compunction — who had done any number of other unforgivable things, for that matter. Witnessing Spender’s death in this multiverse didn’t greatly trouble him, but something about watching Scully shoot him did. 

“Scully?” came another voice.

Mulder and Scully turned in tandem to look up the stairs. Samantha stood trembling at the top, holding on to the railing for balance. Had she been the intended target of Spender’s shift in aim? Had Scully seen that unfolding? Would it have mattered to her one way or the other?

“We’re okay, Sam,” Scully called up the stairs instantly. “It’s going to be okay.” Seeing Samantha seemed to be a reminder to pull herself together. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and ran a hand over her face, unconsciously smearing Spender’s blood a little over her nose.

“More men are coming any minute,” she said to Mulder. “We should get Samantha out of here now. Can you – can you carry her? Her ankle is injured.”

“Yeah, of course,” Mulder nodded, his eyes still hungrily examining her. “But Scully, you’re … okay? You seem...”

She took a step towards him, gripping his sleeve. “Mulder,” she said. “It’s Samantha. It’s your sister. Don’t worry about me right now. Go take care of her.”

He wanted to say more, but she leaned down to pick Spender’s pockets. He did what she said and turned for the stairs.

And there she was, clinging to the railing: Samantha.

An aura of unreality around her. Messy braids. An injured foot. Dirty, exhausted. Otherwise, she looked exactly as she did in the picture on his desk, the picture that trapped her forever in one sunny moment.

When he had opened his eyes in 1973, he had found himself holding a small warm hand, standing in front of a blur of white light. Blinking rapidly as the world came into focus, he could see that the light was a window, and the hand – suddenly violently wrested away – had been hers.

Samantha had recoiled from him, hopping back in frightened shock, no recognition in her eyes.

It hadn’t taken her long to say she understood, at least in theory, who he was. He had rushed to explain it to her, using his most patient adult agent voice. She had nodded quickly — she already knew what had happened to Scully, after all. She got the picture enough to be able to tell him what was happening. When they heard the man coming up the stairs, she trusted him enough to defend her.

But when Mulder came up the stairs towards her now, Samantha looked at him like he was a complete stranger.

“Sam,” he said, trying to remember exactly how he used to talk to her when he was a kid. “I need to carry you on my back. Is that … all right?”

Her chin lifted up and down, her expression inscrutable.

He turned around and lifted her easily on his back, also picking up the duffel bag she had with her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and she smelled of little kid sweat. The smell brought to mind visceral memories of childhood, like the two of them tripping over their feet racing one another to the beach on sun-glazed July afternoons. He was there, he realized. He was in his childhood. It wasn't as simple as memory.

Scully had procured some car keys from the pocket of the corpse at the foot of the stairs. She stood there waiting for them as they came down, watching Mulder closely with dazed eyes, like she still couldn’t quite grasp his presence there.

“Ready to roll, Scully,” he said, his voice sounding surreally casual, like they were just finishing up some regular case. He hitched Samantha’s knees over his hips more securely. “Do we have a car?”

“A Cadillac.” Scully held up the keys. “I don’t exactly have a destination in mind, though.”

“Why don’t you let me drive?” he suggested. The mental image of those July afternoons on the beach had wiggled loose another memory. “I have an idea of where we might go.”

***

The black Cadillac was an enormous parade float of a car, with a wood-grained steering wheel and an 8-track player. Mulder gathered that it had been driven by the men who were now dead, men who had apparently chased down Scully, Samantha and the young Fox. So he tried not to show the immature kick he got out of driving such an obviously badass early 70s automobile.

Scully kept twisting around in the passenger seat looking anxiously out the back window. She turned around, frowning and rubbing her neck with her hand.

“You can rest a second,” Mulder said gently, adjusting the rear view mirror. “Really, Scully. I’m capable of watching for a tail, too.”

There was so much to talk about, so much to ask her, but more than anything else, he had a powerful urge to take care of her, to settle her down, to wrap her in his arms. But he had no real reason to think that was the response she wanted from him.

She was relieved to see him, he could tell that she was. Still, when he looked at her even now, it was so easy to remember her cold expression when she told him to get out of her apartment.

Scully nodded, a thin smile, and closed her eyes. She looked so tired.

He knew where they were: West Tisbury. But it all looked so different, so much sleepier and less developed. Fewer vacation homes, fewer shops and restaurants, more ramshackle barns, more glimpses of the wild. So often change comes in small ticks, tiny increments, he reminded himself, not spectacular explosions. Easy not to notice when it’s happening.

Scully spun around in her seat yet again, all nervous energy. “How’s your ankle, Samantha?”

“It’s okay, I guess. It still hurts, but not as bad.” Samantha’s words from the back seat sounded distant. “Where … where are we going?”

“I thought we would go to Grandpa Mulder’s old beach cottage,” Mulder said to her, seeking her eyes in the rear view mirror. “What do you think, Sam? No one will be there, right? It usually just sits empty. We could stay there tonight, find some food, talk, get some sleep, and no one would be the wiser.”

Samantha blinked at his reflection. “Yeah,” she said. “That’s probably a good idea.”

“I haven’t been there in years. I sold it after …” After his father died. He stopped. “Well, I sold it.”

There was a pause.

“My brother loves the cottage,” Samantha said. “He carved his initials on the shingles, down low on the side where Dad can’t see.”

Mulder anxiously bit the inside of his mouth. “Yeah,” he said. “I know, Samantha.”

“He’s coming back, right? My brother?”

“Oh Samantha.” Scully‘s voice was so weary, so sad. “You understand that this is your brother, right?”

“I know, but … my Fox,” Samantha said. “He’s coming back?”

“Yeah,” Mulder said. “He will. Tomorrow, some time in the early afternoon.”

Scully’s head turned towards him. He would need to talk through the logistics of their return plan with her. One of a long list of items they had yet to discuss.

“You know, Sam, I just …” He heard himself run out of words. Because what is there to say to her that could possibly be adequate? “Hopefully, you and I might get a chance to talk, too. Maybe later. I’d like to.”

“Okay,” said Samantha, turning to look out the window.

He felt Scully’s eyes on him. He glanced over at her.

“And maybe you and I, too?” he asked her.

“Of course, Mulder,” Scully said, leaning her head back into the seat.

She sounded as distant as Samantha. A little vibration of panic thrummed through him.

***

Rain began a light patter as Mulder pulled into the driveway to the cottage. He told Scully and Samantha to wait in the car while he went to open the door.

For just a moment, letting the fine rain dampen his hair, he looked at the old place, temporarily struck by the sight of it, exactly as he remembered.

He put a finger on his hairline, where his mind still softly throbbed.

Yeah. That was a constant thing now. He glanced back at the car, reminding himself not to draw attention to it around Scully.

The cottage was remote, tucked away, and had its own little private swath of beach. You could almost miss seeing the place; that was probably part of its appeal. The house belonged to the coast, like a piece of battered driftwood, brown-shingled and rough, fused with the trees and rocks that surrounded it. It had been the property of his father’s father – a fishing shack long ago, converted in the fifties into a snug little house, almost like a cabin, nothing fancy.

God, he used to love to come there with his father, when he was little. With his father and Samantha, usually, on summer days. In those sunlit parts of his memories before everything in his childhood became so weighed down.

Because he’d parked the Cadillac out of sight from the road, he had to run a little distance in the rain to reach the house. In 1973, the key was hidden in the exact same spot it was hidden in 1995, the year he sold the house: under the quirky little statue of a whale wearing a captain’s hat sitting outside the door. He found it easily and opened the door.

Inside, it smelled of cedar and damp, perhaps a whiff of wool. He shivered. The details were all just so, just as in his mind: the multicolored braided rag rugs, the old brick fireplace, the burnished ship’s wheel over the mantel, the constant ticking of the fifties kitchen clock. This was stepping into a place he never should have been able to visit again.

He had to run back out to the car to get Samantha, who nodded stoically when he asked if he could give her another piggyback ride. She didn’t say a word as he carried her into the little house, jogging so she didn’t get too wet, pushing open the door with his foot and setting her down gently on the little sofa. He looked around for the woolen blankets the family usually kept on hand. Finding one on the rocking chair, he tossed it over her.

“So you remember coming here?” she asked him suddenly, pulling the blanket up to her chin. Curiosity and apprehension fought in her eyes.

He looked down at his feet, ill at ease and too tall for his surroundings. “Sure,” he said.

“What do you remember?” A little challenge in her tone.

“Fourth of July,” he said, slowly. “Eating slices of watermelon on the beach. The sand fort with the plastic army men that took us all day to make. It’s all a long time ago for me, Samantha — but I remember.”

She didn’t say anything, just seemed to reconsider him.

Scully came in the front door, carrying the duffel bag and the brown sack of groceries he’d stopped to buy at the corner market. She paused and looked around the living room, surveying the fireplace, the rugs, the woolen blanket over Samantha. Mulder felt strangely anxious, waiting to hear her impression. But she just nodded at him, as if to say, this will do fine. He stepped forward to take the bags out of her hands.

“Who wants a sandwich?” he said. “There wasn’t a huge selection at the market, but I can definitely whip us up some peanut butter and jelly.”

“I can’t eat anything, Mulder,” Scully shook her head dismissively. She sat on the couch next to Samantha, starting to lift Samantha’s foot. “I’m still so— I can’t eat. You did get a bandage for Samantha, right?”

“I got a bandage, yeah,” he said, reaching into the bag and tossing it to her. “And you should try to eat something, Scully, or you’ll feel sick. I’ll make you a sandwich. You, too, Sam.” He grinned at Samantha. “Don’t worry. I didn’t get grape jelly.”

“You don’t like grape jelly?” Scully asked her, working on unfastening Samantha’s shoe.

Samantha shook her head, a sideways glance at Mulder. “It doesn’t taste like real grapes.”

“You like strawberry jam, and you like your crusts cut off,” Mulder said. “See? I remember.” He watched for a moment as Scully rolled up Samantha’s wide pant leg. “How did she hurt her ankle?”

For half a second he regretted the question, because both Scully and Samantha looked stricken. But he was curious – and tired of awkward pauses. He had to start asking questions somewhere.

“We were driving the Rothenbergs’ Chevelle,” Scully said matter-of-factly. “The Cadillac ran us off the road, and Samantha’s foot got pinned in the crash.”

“The Rothenbergs our neighbors?” Mulder asked in disbelief. “You stole their car?”

“You stole their car,” Scully said crisply as she examined Samantha’s foot. “You were watching their house for them, while they were out of town for the season. You let us into the garage and found the key.”

“Oh,” Mulder nodded. “Okay. Wow. And then you ran into the restaurant?”

“No, we hid in the woods a while,” Scully said, sounding tired. “Tried to make it on foot.”

“Fox helped us climb a tree,” Samantha added. “We sat in the tree for a long time.”

“Fox and I took turns carrying Samantha,” Scully said. “He’s not as big as you, obviously – so it wore us both out.”

“He did all of that?” Mulder’s most important memory of age twelve was of a catastrophic failure to take decisive action. This alternate picture of some resourceful kid was almost unfathomable. “I don’t remember being so … capable.”

“You –” Scully hesitated. “He was great. He was amazing. Precocious.” She smiled to herself, examining Samantha’s ankle. “I liked him a lot.”

Mulder felt a twist of something stupidly like jealousy. Well. That’s fucking irrational on several levels.

“He’s great. Really, really great,” Samantha said, a hitch in her voice.

“Yeah. Sounds like,” Mulder said, keeping his voice light. “So …uh, I’m going to go make the sandwiches. There’s a bathroom around that corner, if you want to wash up.”

Maybe that kid’s just a superior Fox Mulder, Mulder found himself thinking, walking into the kitchen. And if he grows up with his sister, imagine what a superior guy he’ll be by my age. Imagine the superior life he’ll get to have.

In the kitchen he unpacked the grocery bag, setting the peanut butter and white bread on the counter, and chastised himself for his self-pity.

What difference did it make if they were charmed by a younger, less broken version of him? Why was he so obsessed with the question of what life he might have had, if things were different, if he had been in this multiverse? None of that mattered at all. His only job right here and now was to think of Samantha and Scully, the only stars in his personal constellation.

***

Scully did want to wash up. She wanted to be scrubbed clean in every sense imaginable. In the old-fashioned bathroom, she stared in the mirror and was appalled to see blood smeared across her face.

But first things first. Before she cleaned herself, she worked on Samantha, wiping her down with a washcloth, every visible smudge and scratch. She located a change of clothes for her in one of the bedrooms, a set of boys’ flannel pajamas. Too small for young Fox at age twelve, but clearly his at one point.

Once Samantha was clean and changed, then she worried about herself. She took a hurried, bracing shower in the cottage’s rustic bathtub: no warm water, a bar of soap that seemed to be mostly lye, some astringent shampoo likely made for men.

Clothing proved a challenge, because the two turtlenecks that Scully had stolen from the shop in Falmouth were too dirty to put back on, one stained with mud and the other just worn too many days in a row. She held the second one up and seriously considered it, but couldn’t do it. Not on her freshly showered body.

That only left her one option from the duffel bag, the lavender flowered bohemian sundress from San Diego, which she had managed to hand wash at the Mulders’ house in Chilmark. It would mean being a little chilly, but there did seem to be wool blankets all around the house. It also meant she could skip the filthy bra.

She slipped the dress on over her head, then frowned. Looking at herself in the small mirror, she tugged at the laces on the dress’s bodice to see if she could make her breasts settle into it differently. She didn’t remember feeling quite so … open to the elements wearing it on the bus.

Well. It was just going to feel different with adult Mulder there.

Scully stared at her face in the mirror, running her palms over her damp hair, her clean face. She was caught again on the memory of seeing Mulder coming down the stairs holding his gun on Spender, speaking to her like they had only been apart a few days doing fieldwork, like he had just been out of town. Not like he had been separated from her across some Stygian temporal chasm.

God, she had felt such sheer … joy. That was really the only accurate word for it.

She hadn’t heard his full story yet. She found she almost couldn’t bear to ask. She was feeling way too needy, way too desperate for his affection and attention right now, and it was obvious where his focus needed to be. Samantha. Reconnecting with his sister. Scully had gone to such lengths to keep her safe for him.

Scully could see now, too, that the boy and Samantha had been such an absorbing diversion for her, too. They kept her anxious about logistics, thinking through how to take care of them. And they also gave her love a soft place to land.

Adult Mulder brought back adult Mulder problems.

“I don’t have all the answers to what you’re saying—I don’t. But whatever else might be true, I know I need you.”

She shook her head. Truthfully, at the moment Scully didn’t trust herself. Too much churning under the surface. She needed a good night’s sleep, to think clearly.

When she went back into the living room, Mulder had placed a plate of peanut butter sandwiches on the coffee table, way too many, cut in triangles, the crusts cut off. Samantha was eating one in her pajamas on the couch, wrapped in a wool blanket, Mulder sitting beside her.

“Sandwiches, Scully,” Mulder said brightly. He looked up at her standing in the doorway and did a tiny double take upon seeing her attire. His eyebrows shot up. “That’s a different look for you, Sister Moon Flower.”

If she wasn’t mistaken, his eyes caught on her bodice for just a moment, but he was subtle. She heroically fought the impulse to cross her arms over her chest, which would only draw attention to the fact she was self-conscious. “My weather-appropriate clothes are all unwearable.”

“Where did you get all the seventies clothes?” he asked, looking down quickly at the sandwiches. “Because I know you didn’t get that dress from anyone in the Mulder household.”

Scully spotted another wool blanket folded on the hearth and walked to it, unfolding and wrapping it around her, as Samantha had. She sat in a leather chair on the other side of the fireplace, facing Mulder.

“This dress came from San Diego,” she said. “Where I first found myself after Hays’ lab. I met these girls who were really kind to me. They gave me food — a peanut butter sandwich, actually.” She smiled a little, reaching over to pick up a triangle off the plate. “And this dress, and a bus pass.”

“Maureen O’Byrne?” Mulder asked in his soft, thoughtful voice.

Scully paused mid-bite. “That’s right. How could you know that?”

“The photo you took of the Ameripass,” Mulder said, a shy smile. “I saw all your photos.” He sat up on the couch, reached into his pocket and fished out a piece of white paper folded over into a small square. He carefully handed it to her.

Her eyes met his as she took it in her fingers, Samantha looking between them with curiosity. Scully unfolded the square and was greeted with a grayscale printed image of her, Samantha and young Fox on the beach yesterday, smiling and singing and looking windswept.

“My photos were sent to the lab in Berkeley?” She ran her fingers over the image in wonder.

“Yeah,” Mulder said, looking at the paper.

“Every one? That whole time?”

“I think so,” Mulder said. “Obviously I don’t know for sure, but I was tracking you pretty closely. The bus trip across the country. The dance studio. The key chain.”

Scully wanted to laugh. All that time, she had been thinking of the photos as something for her, something private, something to think of him. She handed the paper to Samantha so she could see, too.

“I actually spoke to Maureen O’Byrne on the phone, too,” Mulder admitted.

“You spoke to Mo in 1999?” Scully did smile now, imagining that phone call. “Oh, Mulder … that’s unbelievable. I love that. She must have been middle-aged, right? Was she still with Silvia? That means … I could actually thank them again, when we go back.”

“They won’t remember you,” Mulder said, watching her carefully. “They didn’t know who you were.”

“But…” She stopped. Took a breath. “It’s not our multiverse.” It was so clear to her all of a sudden. It explained everything.

His head bobbed up and down in an affirmative.

“And what we change here…” she drifted off. What they changed didn’t affect their own multiverse.

Her eyes fell on Samantha, who was studying the picture while chewing her sandwich absently.

He tracked her gaze and then looked back up at her with miserable eyes, seeing that she had understood.

Oh. Yes. Of course.

Some part of her — the logical, thorough part of Scully — must have known this already, must have realized it the moment she saw adult Mulder appear like magic on the stairs. Two plus two equals four, and her Mulder, calling out her name, equals the Same Past He Always Had.

She had saved Samantha—for some universe, for some little boy. But not for her own multiverse. Her Mulder’s Samantha would still be gone. This brief time with her would be all he had.

Scully lowered her sandwich, the weight of it all beginning to bear down on her.

“We have this evening,” Mulder said to her significantly, keeping his tone casual. “And then we have tomorrow morning, until after lunch.”

She just stared at her sandwich. She hadn’t actually taken a bite, but she felt like if she did now, she would choke.

“Scully,” he said, gently. A note of pleading. He was pulling a deck of cards out of his coat pocket. “Let’s have a good night. Who wants to play cards?”

“Go Fish?” Samantha asked, looking interested.

“Well, I don’t like to brag, but I play a fierce Go Fish,” Mulder said. “You probably remember.”

“I remember beating you,” Samantha said, smiling slyly. Mulder didn’t miss her use of the second person pronoun, and a genuine smile spread over his face. “Scully?”

She forced a smile, too.

***

Now everything seemed so significant, and no moment was ever going to be big enough.

They played cards and listened to the radio and ate more sandwiches. It rained lightly outside, just enough to make Scully feel a little drowsy. Eventually, she found some powdered hot chocolate and marshmallows in the kitchen and managed to come up with some convincing mugs of cocoa.

Samantha didn’t treat Mulder as naturally or affectionately as she had the boy, which was hard to watch. It was unreasonable to think she would. Still, Mulder was charming. And as Scully knew well, the boy was in there, somewhere.

After the third or fourth hand of cards, Samantha began to laugh at his jokes. And God, Mulder made so many jokes, even for him. Every possible pun about playing cards, about cocoa, about sandwiches. He was trying so hard.

In the evening, after it got dark, Samantha told Scully to open the dark wooden cabinet in the living room. Inside was a blocky, old-fashioned RCA TV with round silver knobs, the kind Scully hadn’t seen in years

“Our old black and white TV,” Mulder said, overjoyed. “The fabled Mulder family TV of my early childhood, Scully. I forgot we stowed it here at the cottage. Turn it on.”

“The reception isn’t always good,” Samantha warned. “Dad wants to get rid of it.” Scully snapped it on, and she began experimentally toying with the antenna. On the screen, gray static gave way to black lines looping endlessly. Scully responded by moving the antenna again, and some outlines of images began to appear.

Mulder squinted. “Wait! Hold on to the antenna, and step a little to the left, Scully.” Scully shot him a long-suffering look, but stepped left. “That’s it! Look. Is that … Hawaii Five-O?”

“Yeah,” Samantha agreed, enthusiastically. Scully started to walk away to see the screen. “No, no! Keep holding on to the antenna.”

“Try another channel,” Mulder suggested. “But don’t move a muscle, g-woman. You’re doing great.”

“I’m not doing this for very much longer,” Scully said with dignity. But standing still, she turned the dial again. A slightly more clear image appeared of a man walking side-by-side with a woman. This time, they could make out some dialogue, and they listened for a moment.

“Ohhh, I know what this is,” Samantha said. She turned to Mulder. “It’s The Magician. My brother loves this show. Do you remember it?”

Mulder’s face showed no expression. He stared at the TV.

“I remember,” Mulder said in a monotone. “I never saw this episode.”

“It’s kind of a stupid show,” Samantha said, softly. "I don't know why he likes it." But she was watching Mulder, a little concerned crease growing in between her eyebrows.

Scully let go of the antenna. “Mulder…?”

He stood up, abruptly. “Scully, what have I been thinking?”

“Mulder—”

“I was so happy to be here — it’s like I … forgot what day it was.” He ran his hand through his hair. “God, we ought to be armed right now, Scully. And I should go – I should go look around the place. Make sure it’s secure.”

“All right,” Scully said, warily. “All right, that’s probably a sensible idea.”

He swallowed. Then he turned and walked out of the room, leaving Samantha watching after him with wide eyes. She turned to Scully.

“He remembers me being taken away,” Samantha said softly. “Right?”

“That’s right,” Scully whispered, standing frozen in place.

Samantha seemed to absorb that. “And he really missed me, after I was gone?”

“Oh,” Scully said, and her voice broke, “so much.”

Samantha nodded, watching the tears on Scully’s cheeks without saying anything else.

***

An hour later, Samantha fell asleep on the couch as Mulder was trying to teach her to play poker.

He lifted her up, one arm under her knees and one behind her back, and carried her into the downstairs bedroom, the one with two twin beds. There was an attic bedroom with a double bed, but Scully knew Mulder didn’t want Samantha to sleep upstairs by herself.

Mulder was always remembering windows opening. Mulder was always remembering bright lights. And it was still November 27th, 1973.

Sources:

The Magician, Season 1 - see Episode 7, Lady in A Trap, original air date 11/27/73

#x files fanfic #the x files #xfiles fanfic

[commanderhorncleaver]

🌈 RAINBOW and 🚆 TRAIN for Gaius, and 🔫 PISTOL and 🌱 SEEDLING for Sigmund? (@havoc-warband)

🌈 RAINBOW - what advice would they give to their younger self?

hough you went right in on a hard one lmao I think the best thing he'd tell himself, is to take more chances. I think he'd actually be a bit skeptical of such an opportunity, because he's proud of who and where he is. If he'd made different choices, would he be the Commander? Where would the world be?

🚆 TRAIN - what is their answer to the trolley problem?

Destroy the tracks and see what happens.

🔫 PISTOL - do they trust people easily? how easily will they turn their back to someone? have they been backstabbed before? will they betray someone if given an ultimatum?

Sigmund has trouble trusting people because of his being a chronically ill/handicapped charr--he does not allow people close because many have told him their thoughts for those like him. When he's close to someone, though, he will do anything in his power to make sure they're safe.

🌱 SEEDLING - what is their most vivid memory from childhood?

Sig's most vivid memory is from when he was around ten, when he and many other cubs of his fahrar overheard a primus joke about putting him down, since his illness made him more trouble than he was worth. Not long after, a decision was made to have Sigmund removed from the fahrar entirely and have him sent to Smokestead Village to live and work on the farm there. Or this was the plan, until word got back to Oberon, and he retrieved the arranged for such on his own.

#horncleaver asks #gaius horncleaver #sigmund shieldhorn

[ghostlycoze]

y'know, what if ECF only gets a mouth after meeting gourmand on their travels, smelling the meals they make, liking the smell and wanting to taste, and end up scugging their way into another member of their local group's can in order to request to be modified to have a mouth with functioning taste as a backup power source

well this took far longer to answer than intended! I wanted to do a couple more doodles, but good ol art block kicked in sooo we've got one (1) lmao

But OOOH that is such a cute idea! I'd like to think eventually Fates would wander far enough from his local group towards Moon's local group, so he probably would run into Gourmand and his colony eventually!

(Note: my Gourm design is still a WIP, but he gives me big tabby tomcat vibes, so I wanted to sneak some subtle little patterns in. Also, for those of you who were WC kids growing up, that little head symbol I couldn't resist. Gourmand is a good leader if I've ever seen one!)

Maybe Fates meets Gourmand during his food quests and travels alongside him for a while to help, and learn more about creatures, how to fight them, and—even if he himself cannot eat—how to cook them, too! Fates may start cooking for his own scugs as a little treat :]

As for acquiring a mouth, that may not be easily done. Fates does not have a great thing going with his local group (I need to name this group it's getting confusing), he's sort of the estranged relative in the family. After leaving his can and becoming a little cryptid, he hasn't had contact with anyone from his group.......Buuut, if Fates has travelled far enough to meet Gourmand, he's approached a different group where he may have better luck!

I mean, we all know a certain green fellow who likes messing with bioengineering resides here. With Sig being the chaotic little guy he is, I wouldn't be surprised if Sig agreed to help—though, in saying that, I don't know if Sig would be able to make a mouth fully functioning. That would require not only the mouth, but the entire digestive tract too. Sig is not building an ass for a guy he just met, or for anyone, I'd imagine. BUT. A mouth attached to Fates' vocal systems, with functioning taste buds, could be possible! Rather than a throat, the mouth just leads to the voice box for clearer speech. Fates could sort of... Put things in his mouth to taste it, but wouldn't be able to swallow anything, and wouldn't get fuel from it. Though, he's got his neurons (and possibly a rarefraction cell shoved in there somewhere for some backup energy?), so he'll be fine without it.

That's a super fun idea to think of though. The idea of moutherators grows!

Thank you for the ask :]

#slightly delayed reply but we vibe #fates is at it again #being a chaotic little guy #ghost rambles #ask reply #ever changing fates #and a hint of #rw nsh #as a side dish #(fates and sig would probably get along well #wild little freaks) #ghost art #ghost oc lore

[phoenix-manga]

Vice Dorm Leaders getting along with Pokémon:

It didn’t take long for the vice dorm leaders to get involved with the Pokemon too. The shenanigans that happened with them are... interesting to say the least.

Trey + Slurpuff

“The Unbirthday Party was a success thanks to this little guy’s sense of smell… Though I should expect to make a large portion for it, the number of sweets it ate was shocking for everyone!”

Trey was a bit skeptical when Phoebe lent him Slurpuff and told him that chefs would use them to sniff out the freshest ingredients but if they say so then it must be worth a try.

Needless to say, he was pleasantly surprised to see the cake thing nudge him to the best ingredients to use for his sweets. He rewarded Slurpuff with a spoon covered in frosting or batter. The Pokémon mostly stayed out of his way and only has to bring him some tools or supplies.

When he presented the sweets he made, everyone including Riddle were almost knocked into a food coma with how good it was. Even Trey was lost in the trance of the flavor, but he was snapped out of it when he spotted Slurpuff eating almost half of the buffet table, he rushed to it and told it to ask him for more sweets to prevent any problems.

Ruggie + Crobat

“That Phoebe kid feeds you this? Aww man! I’m so jealous, now I wish I was a Pokémon!”

That one-time Ruggie came across Crobat was when he passed by Ramshackle to see a large bat creature with four wings eating from a large bowl filled with berries, Poke puffs and even poffins. The amount it ate distracted him from his usual task and he only snapped out of it when Crobat made eye-contact with him.

Crobat wasn’t sure why a stranger was here but it assumed it wanted food so Crobat nudged a Poke puff towards Ruggie’s direction before going back to chow down. Ruggie didn’t plan on asking it for any food, he was just curious but since it offered, who is he to decline? Picking up the Poke puff and taking a bite, he immediately devours it till there’s nothing left. That was the tastiest pastry he has had; they were even better than the ones in the cafeteria.

He hears Phoebe call out to Crobat and he took this time to scram before he was found. That kid pampers their creatures like royalty, he admits that he once had the thought that wishes that he was a Pokémon too. Ruggie now sneaks to go to Ramshackle and Crobat sneaks him a portion of its food, Ruggie repays it by offering some to it as well. They just formed this unspoken lunch trade. The one time Phoebe made malasadas for Crobat, Ruggie was in heaven lemme tell you.

Phoebe has no idea about this, this was just a secret thing between Crobat and Ruggie. One time Phoebe was with Crobat in the field and it spots Ruggie, Crobat immediately goes to him and flies around him. Phoebe assumed that Crobat took a liking to Ruggie because it probably sensed that he’s a foodie. Oh, if only she knew.

Jade + Lapras

“Such kind yet protective eyes you have~ I’m far from trustworthy yet you nuzzle against me like a seal, this is quite interesting”

Phoebe asked Azul if she can be allowed to have her water Pokémon swim about in Octavinelle. The lake is much too small for the larger ones. Azul gave her permission but in exchange she has to work part-time at the lounge, Azul is capitalizing as usual. The mention of Pokémon being at Octavinelle brought more customers to the lounge, the one that got the most attention was Lapras.

It was very friendly and even paused to look inside the lounge from the windows. Phoebe was not surprised that Lapras was friendly, what she didn’t expect was that it got attached to Jade for some reason. She would have thought it was Sharpedo or even Eelektross who would get along with the cunning vice dorm leader. But instead, Lapras is swimming happily in circles wanting Jade’s attention.

Jade, of course, finds the Pokémon endearing and would always take his time to pet it whenever he’s on break. Even offering Lapras a small treat or two, Lapras is enjoying it. There was a rare occasion that Jade swam with Lapras in his eel form, at times he swims alongside Lapras or have it chase him through the water, other times he just sleeps on Lapras’ back as it swam.

Jamil + Serperior

“Quite the proud one you are, at least you’re more tolerable than Kalim…”

Kalim promised a favor without consulting Jamil again, this time it was to look after some of her Pokémon. Kalim got caught up in the excitement of having to get close with those strange creatures that he didn’t think that it could be troublesome.

Jamil stopped in his tracks at the sight of Kalim with a large green snake behind him. Boy did he get quite the scolding from Jamil, but what can he do now that Kalim as already offered? He just decides to “help” him take care of Serperior. Thankfully, Phoebe provided a list of ingredients that Serperior likes, the list was as long as an A4 paper but at least Jamil has his options cut out for him. He doesn’t have to guess and waste any food.

Serperior mostly kept to itself and wanders around the dorm, inspecting its surroundings. Kalim tries to hug it but it just wraps its body around him and places him a few feet away before slithering off. Serperior will feel terrible if he smacks the sunshine boy away, so it places him at a good distance.

Jamil often sees it staring at him, its sharp eyes resemble his own. He never expected to have it get attached to him in a rather proud way. Everywhere Jamil goes, Serperior follows at a distance and there were rare moments it coils near his bedroom door, and Jamil walks out one morning only to fall into its coils. This strange behavior was suspicious at first but then Jamil learned to get used to it. Serperior is a curious one but then he thinks its more tolerable than Kalim.

Speaking of Kalim, Serperior sensed that most of Jamil’s stress comes from Kalim being a goofball that he is, so it catches Kalim and puts him in a coil hold when he’s about to do something reckless.

Rook + Oricorio

“Oh my! Such grace and beauty you possess to dance with excellent skills! Wait, you mean to tell me it had four forms? I would like to see it, please show me”

He spotted the dancing bird Pokémon in the field when they were having a PE class. Oricorio was in its Pom-Pom form and doing a cheer dance to motivate Grimm to fly better. He couldn’t help but approach Phoebe and ask her about Oricorio.

Needless to say, he was very interested. A creature that has four different forms that represents a different environment? It was like a fox having more than just a winter coat. He asked to see its other forms, it would be tiring to have it change forms constantly so Phoebe just brings out Rotom to show him the pictures of the Oricorio forms. Rook admired the pictures and each one gave off a different kind of beauty.

Oricorio, being a simp for pretty boys, took a liking to Rook. He was just so charming, Oricorio does its happy dance and follows him whenever it sees him. Phoebe once asked him if he can keep Oricorio company for a few days, he accepts the offer and he brings it to Pomefiore. Oricorio also liked Vil and Epel due to how charming their looks are, Vil is fine with it as long as it isn’t a troublemaker while Epel is kind of bummed out when he thinks it likes him because of his fragile looks.

The moment Rook was shown its changed forms in person, he is taking out his camera and is taking burst shots from all sorts of angles and lighting. Out of all the four forms Oricorio has, he loves its Baile form the most, the way it dances with embers around it in a display of passion and power. He looks forward to Phoebe asking him to look after Oricorio again.

Ortho + Emolga & Pachirisu

“Hey! That tickles, big brother you should try and pet them! They’re like those plushies you sometimes order in your room. Isn’t it like having your favorite plushy as a pet?”

Emolga and Pachirisu are both cheeky Pokémon and a duo for trouble. Emolga and Pachirisu were seen making student’s hair go static and stick out with small electric waves.

Ortho spotted the two behind some bushes and immediately approaches them, this is the first time Emolga and Pachirisu were caught off guard and startled. Their electric attacks don’t do much to Ortho due to his robotic circuits, if anything he considers it as some form of tickling.

Ortho thought how cute they looked and they resemble plush toys in his brother’s room. Emolga and Pachirisu was weirded out by Ortho at first but his cheerfulness was infectious and it didn’t take long for them to treat him as part of their group. Whenever Ortho passes by, the two would pounce on him and swing from his arms and legs, Ortho likes this game, he finds it useful to use his scanner to see where they might pop out next.

One time, he took them to see his brother and they made his hair stick out. He was startled but Ortho found it amusing, he got to see what would his hair look like if it stuck out. Emolga and Pachirisu still do their pranks but its less due to them wanting to find Ortho first.

Lilia + Dragapult

“A prankster and yet you dote on the little ones on your horns? We might be cousins from a distant world, fufu~ Let’s go scare Sebek some more!”

Dragapult pranks Sebek a lot, poor boy gets it from almost a lot of Pokémon. It once shot a Dreepy in his shirt causing him to squirm and try to get it out, he looked like he was doing a crazy monkey dance. Lilia appreciates this little prankster and he would join it in tormenting other students but mostly Sebek because his reactions were very amusing to watch. The two even went and started a pranking competition where they tally their number of pranked students for the whole month.

Lilia was allowed to play and hold the small Dreepy that reside in Dragapult’s horns. He melted at the sight of the little cuties playfully tussling his hair, which gave him an idea to mimic Dragapult’s horns(?) With an easy hair growth potion and a LOT of hairspray, he came to school with his hair in Dragapult’s style.

The sight alone in Diasomnia sent everyone, including Malleus into a stunned silence, Dragapult added fuel to the flame by letting the Dreepy reside in his hair for the rest of the day. Crowley saw Lilia and mumbled how the trends have gotten crazier every day. Cater took pictures and he laughed at the sight because it was so outlandish. Kalim was confused but precious boy still appreciated his hairstyle nonetheless. The perfect chaotic duo.

#pokemon #twst #twisted wonderland #headcanons #lilia vanrouge #ortho shroud #rook hunt #jamil viper #jade leech #ruggie bucchi #trey clover #pokemon x twisted wonderland #twst x pokemon #pokemon imagines

[ughseoks]

asterismos ⋆ 4

PAIRING; jungkook x reader

GENRE; angst, fluff, eventual smut / enemies to lovers / fantasy au

RATING; 18+

WORD COUNT; 4k

WARNINGS; swearing, weapons, blood, injury, fighting, ~magic~

SUMMARY; As far as you’re concerned, things like magic, prophecies, and fate are nothing more than fairytales. But when you accidentally bind your soul to a mysterious amulet you found at an antique shop, a group of seven warriors from a magical world inform you that you now hold the key to saving them all. The fate of the realm Elodia now rests in your hands, and you realize that you couldn’t have been more wrong.

「 prev.   |   masterlist   |   next 」

— banner created by the most talented human ever aka @kimtaehyunq​​ 🥺

Author’s note at the end!

“You know she’ll never join you, right?”

The man scoffs at the statement coming from the Elodian collapsed on the ground behind the metal bars of the cell. “You shouldn’t speak of things you know nothing about. I know that she’ll choose the right side; she’s my sister.”

The Elodian in the cell’s returning smile is a broken one. “Your time away from Earth has caused a rift to form between the two of you. She doesn’t even think you’re alive.” He stops to cough, the sound grating against the other man’s ears. “But beyond that, she’s no longer the little girl you once knew. Unlike you, she didn’t grow into a person driven by hatred and revenge. No matter what her relation to you is, she would never turn her back on innocent people. Your father holds no power over her decisions—although I’m afraid I can’t same the same about you.”

“Don’t you dare speak of my father in that way.” A wild look dances in the man’s eyes as he takes a few steps towards the occupied cell. “He was a man with a vision. You and the rest of the world were—and still are—too blinded by your foolish ideas to see it.”

The man behind bars smirks. “Those are bold words coming from someone who’s only half Elodian.”

An angry roar escapes the taller man as he thrusts his fist into the rocky wall beside him, a sickening crunch resounding in the small chamber upon impact. He lets out a small grunt of pain and allows his arm to drop back to his side. A soft blue light begins to emit from the wound, the broken skin and bone expertly weaving itself back together. When the glowing finally stops and all that’s left on his skin is dried blood, a tense sigh escapes the man’s lips, the angry glint in his eye giving away just how unstable he is despite his calm exterior.

“You were a fool for giving her the amulet. I know that she’ll choose my side in the end.” He turns to exit the dark room, only pausing to throw a final comment over his shoulder. “The glamour you placed on her is wearing off. It’s only a matter of time.”

“Which one…” you trail off, your eyes scanning the various weapons laid out before you, “Which one should I, uh, try first?”

Seokjin shrugs. “Whichever you want to, Y/N. You’ll know when you pick the right one.”

You nod slowly and continue to gaze at the various sharp, slicey, and spiky things being presented to you. The boys are peeking over your shoulder, and as much as you need their guidance for this, you also feel a bit overwhelmed with the amount of pressure on you. What if you make a fool of yourself trying to wave around Namjoon’s enormous greatsword? What if you accidentally shoot yourself in the foot with Hoseok’s bow?

You’re shaken out of your thoughts when Taehyung lays a large hand on your shoulder. “I know that this all feels a little overwhelming, but you don’t have to be embarrassed or worried about your lack of training, alright? We’re here to help you.” His voice is soft and soothing, and you find yourself feeling a little  more confident with his gentle encouragement.

You nod and take a deep breath before stepping forward to pick up a small throwing knife. Taehyung grins at your choice, stepping forward to demonstrate how to use them. You attempt to copy his expertly executed movements, but the knives all end up scattered across the ground rather than stuck in a tree.

“At least they didn’t end up stuck in any of us,” Taehyung jokes and ruffles your hair.

Slowly but surely, you make your way through every option until you’re left with Jungkook’s weapon—a broadsword.

None of the weapons have really clicked with you so far. Although you feel a little bit like you’re living out one of your childhood fantasies when you swing the various swords and knives around your body, none of them feel quite right in your gentle hands. The weight of them resting in your palm is foreign, and despite your best efforts, you just can’t seem to find a weapon that works with you.

When you raise the (almost comically) long sword into the air to test it out, you note that you can feel Jungkook’s presence from where he stands only a few feet away. Chancing a glance over at him, you’re surprised to see that instead of the irritated or exasperated expression you were expecting, he’s wearing a look that almost seems interested.

With a determined huff, you attempt to swing the sword in a wide arc, only to fall onto your behind when the unexpected weight knocks you off balance.

“It’s useless,” you sigh and hand the sword over to Jungkook with a downcast gaze, “The human in me just… cancels out the ‘warrior’ part of being Elodian, I guess.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Hoseok interrupts, “That isn’t necessarily true, Y/N. There’s still something we haven’t tried.”

“If it’s another weapon, it probably won’t end well,” you pout. “I think it’s pretty clear that big, sharp, pointy things aren’t really my specialty.”

“They aren’t mine either.”

You turn to look at Jimin. He’s standing a few feet away with his arms crossed against his chest, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of his lips. When your brows furrow in confusion, he drops them to his sides with a chuckle, taking a few steps forward to close the distance between the two of you.

“I never had an affinity for ‘big, sharp, pointy things’ when I was training to be a warrior,” he explains. You don’t appreciate his usage of air quotes around the former part of his sentence. “That’s why I turned to magic. It came way more naturally to me than physical weapons ever did. You might be the same way, Y/N.”

“Y-You think I could be a magic user? Even though I’m only half Elodian?”

Jimin shrugs. “We won’t know until we try. Here, give me your hand.”

Jimin’s fingertips are soft against your skin, the palm of his hand pressed to the back of yours. He crouches on the ground and guides your hand so it’s resting on the green grass below. Despite being warmed by the sun, the grass is still slightly damp from the morning dew, the small droplets wetting your fingertips where they press against the soft blades.

“Close your eyes,” Jimin murmurs from beside you, shifting his hand so his fingers are nestled between yours as you follow his instructions. The grass pokes at the palm of your hand from where it sticks out of the cool soil, and if you weren’t holding your breath in anticipation of what Jimin is about to do, you might’ve giggled at the ticklish sensation.

“I want you to picture a flower. It can be any kind you want; just make sure you stick with the one you choose.” He pauses for a moment to let you decide before speaking again. “Have you chosen?” You nod. “Okay. Now, I want you to create a clear picture of that flower in your mind. Be as detailed as possible, like you’re looking at the real thing right in front of you.”

Your eyelids flutter closed as you follow his instructions, your brow knit in concentration. Jimin’s hand is warm on top of yours, and as the image of the flower in your mind grows clearer, the heat from his hand grows warmer along with it. Tingles of warmth climb up your arm all the way to your shoulder, your heart rate increasing as the sensation grows stronger.

After a few seconds, the feeling of the grass on the underside of your palm begins to increase from a light tickle to a steady pressure—it takes you a moment to realize that it feels like something is growing beneath your hand.

When the pressure ceases, Jimin retracts his hand from yours, allowing you to pull your own hand away once your eyes are open again with a gasp.

“Did I…” you trail off as you stare at the beautiful tiger lily sticking out of the ground where your hand once was. The vibrant orange hues of the petals are just as bright as you imagined them—brighter than any tiger lily you’ve ever seen in real life. “Did I do that?”

Jimin nods whilst smiling proudly.

You gulp, “I… but you helped me, didn’t you? When your hand was on top of mine.”

“Here in Elodia, our full powers and connection to the magical realm must be ‘awakened’ by a magic user,” Hoseok speaks up, “Jimin awakened yours.”

“All I did was teach your body how to tap into its magical abilities,” Jimin smiles, “The rest of it was all you.”

“Woah…” You trail off and reach out a hand to touch the flower. The petals are soft against your fingertips—and surprisingly warm, too.

“Jungkook, wasn’t your awakening flower a tiger lily too?” You hear Taehyung speak up from beside you, a knowing smirk lighting up his face.

“Yes.” If the blush on his cheeks means anything, Jungkook seems uncomfortable with Taehyung’s line of questioning.

“You know what they say about matching awakening flowers…” The blue-haired man trails off meaningfully as Jungkook shoots him a glare.

“Shut up, Tae.” Jungkook growls the command, but there’s no real malice behind it, and Taehyung simply snickers in response.

“What are awakening flowers?” You pipe up from your spot on the ground below. In all honesty, you’re starting to feel a little bad about asking so many questions all of the time—but you’re in a totally different realm where magic exists. You’re bound to have at least a few questions.

“They’re the first flower that an Elodian grows during their magical awakening,” Namjoon supplies helpfully. “Taehyung was referring to the popular belief that having identical awakening flowers is a sign of being each other’s Bonded.”

Jungkook is blushing furiously now, his gaze trained on the ground at his feet. You don’t blame him—you can feel the heat rising in your cheeks as well.

“It’s just a myth, though,” Seokjin reassures you before placing a comforting hand on your shoulder, “Lots of people have similar awakening flowers. No need to worry about being Bonded with grumpy over there.”

“Hey! I am not grumpy, hyung—”

“Yes, you are.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not!”

“Are you two going to keep arguing?” Yoongi interjects with a sigh, “Or can we get on with saving Elodia?” Jin stifles a chuckle at the angry look on Jungkook’s face, only to let out a yelp when the youngest juts out an arm to elbow him in the stomach.

“Anyways,” Jimin smiles at you, “I think that you have a lot of potential. I would love to train you and teach you how to use your magic to its full extent—that is, if you want me to.”

“I…” you trail off, unexpectedly strong emotions bubbling up in your throat.

Maybe it’s because for the first time since you’ve arrived in Elodia, you feel as if you just might belong here.

“I would love to train with you, Jimin.” You get a little choked up at the end of your sentence. Jimin’s gaze softens, and the amount of love that you see sparkling in his deep brown eyes is enough to open the floodgates.

Tears begin to slip down your cheeks, the salty droplets leaving streaks as they fall relentlessly. You do your best to wipe them as they fall, but it’s of no use—they’ve already seen your tears, and you’re too emotional to keep them at bay.

“I just…” you sniffle, “The entire time I’ve been here, I’ve felt like a burden. Like I’ve been holding you back and somehow preventing you from completing the mission. But now—now I feel like… like I can finally do something to help other than just... stay out of the way.”

Jimin nods in understanding. “You’re not useless, Y/N, even though you often believe yourself to be.”

“Thank you.” Your voice is barely a whisper, but you know they hear it anyways.

“So, Jimin will work with you on your magic skills,” Namjoon speaks up after a few moments of silence, “And those will most definitely prove useful in our journey, I have no doubt. However,” he sighs, “I believe that there is still the matter of your lack of hand to hand combat skills—which will inevitably be crucial to your survival at some point in the future.”

You nod. “Can’t Jimin just help me with that as well? Since he’ll already be teaching me magic.”

“I don’t think I’m the best suited to teach you,” Jimin frowns. “Although I can most definitely defend myself, I’m not the person you should be learning from—especially considering that we have such little time to prepare you for what’s to come.”

“Jungkook can teach her.”

You turn to face Seokjin fast enough to feel a twinge of pain in your neck. But before you can say anything, Taehyung is already speaking up.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea, Seokjin?”

You flinch, expecting Jungkook to scoff. But he never does. Instead, he looks ashamed, gaze downcast as he clears his throat nervously.

“What happened last time… it won’t happen again.” He lifts his head to lock gazes with Seokjin, a hard look of determination set on his face. “I promise.”

“Y-You really don’t have to if you don’t want to—”

“Nobody is forcing him to help, Y/N,” Seokjin cuts you off with a reassuring smile, “He volunteered.”

“Oh.”

Jungkook is looking everywhere except you, the tips of his ears tinged red. You have to fight to keep from staring at him in shock.

“Shouldn’t she have her own blade?”

Your attention is pulled away from Jungkook at Yoongi’s question-comment, a curious look in your eyes. “Am I even allowed to have one? Aren’t they only given to warriors?”

“You are a warrior,” Hoseok smiles, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder, “Sure, you need a little training, but the mentality of a warrior is what’s most important—and you have far more courage than you seem to know.”

What the hell is with these insanely attractive men complimenting you? You swear, you’re going to have a heart attack one of these days.

“It’s not that I disagree,” Namjoon interjects, “But where are we even going to find her a blade? They’re normally gifted during our warrior officiation ceremonies, and

“I have one she can bond with!”

Namjoon turns to Taehyung in shock, his look of disbelief mirrored on the other six Elodians in the group. “Taehyung! That—That’s illegal! Why the hell do you have a spare sacred blade?”

Taehyung shrugs. “Someone dared me to steal it a few years ago, so I did. I’ve been holding onto it since in case of an emergency like this.”

“You stole a sacred blade because of a dare?” Namjoon balks. “You could be stripped of your title as a warrior!”

“It was a triple dog dare! I couldn’t just chicken out!” Taehyung defends, “Plus, it came in handy, didn’t it?”

Namjoon lets out a heavy sigh. “I can’t believe you. We’re going to have a serious talk sometime about who you choose to hang out with.”

“Okay, first of all, you’re not my dad. Second of all, Jungkook was the one who dared me to steal it, so why isn’t he the one getting in trouble?”

Jungkook makes a noise of protest when Namjoon’s sharp eyes land on him. “I was only kidding when I said it! I swear.”

“Liar,” Taehyung pouts, yelping when Jungkook gives him a harsh shove.

“Anyways,” Yoongi interrupts, a small smile tugging on the corners of his lips, “Since Taehyung is conveniently in possession of a highly sacred blade, you can simply bond with it and use it as your own.”

“Bond with it?” You question, “How do I do that?”

“I’ll show you,” Jimin smiles, “Don’t worry; it’s really not that complicated. I’ll explain more tonight when you’re about to bond with it. Okay?”

You nod, and Seokjin reaches out to give your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Half-Elodian or not, you’re going to become a true warrior tonight, Y/N. Be proud.”

“Jimin. Could you be any more vague?” You mutter in frustration, “I know literally nothing about magic and sacred blades and Elodian sparkles and shit. You’re gonna have to be more specific than telling me to ‘let the blade take control’. Like, what does that even mean?”

Jimin raises an eyebrow at you as you continue to speak, mouth quirking up at the corner when you end your small speech with a frustrated huff. “I’m sorry that I can’t give you more concrete instructions, Y/N. But I’m telling the truth when I say that the blade will do most of the work for you, and this experience is different for everyone. It’s deeply intimate; the sacred blade is making a connection with your soul. I can’t tell you how your bond with it will form, only give you what I hope is helpful advice.”

You groan, dragging the palm of your hand across your face tiredly. “Sorry. I’m just… I’m nervous, I guess. What if I do it wrong?”

“It’ll be alright, I promise. Just the blade—and trust yourself. You’re part Elodian; I know you have it in you.” He reaches up to give your cheek a gentle pinch before taking a few steps back. “I’ll leave you to it. You may feel emotional when the bond is formed, and that’s completely normal. Just shout if something goes wrong, alright?”

“O-Okay. Thank you, Jimin,” you smile, eyes never leaving his back until he disappears from your vision altogether behind the trees.

Once you’re alone, the noise of the forest around you is nearly overwhelming. Excited chirping and the rustling of leaves assaults your senses, the subtle sounds mixing together into a cacophony of chaos in your mind.

“Focus,” you whisper to yourself, reaching into the satchel handed to you by Taehyung to pull out the sacred blade.

Your fingers wrap around the hilt of the knife, pulling it out of the satchel so gently that one might think it was made of glass. The blade itself is only a few inches long, the sleek, black material glinting in the moonlight that filters through the tree leaves above.

Allowing your eyes to fall shut, you take a deep breath and try to focus on the way the blade feels in your hand; the grip is surprisingly soft against the skin of your palm, and it almost feels like it’s moulding to fit the shape of your hand.

As the seconds pass by, you begin to feel a tingling in the hand gripping the knife, the feeling growing in intensity until shivers are suddenly wracking your body. You open your eyes at the onslaught of sensations, eyes flying open when what feels like a bolt of electricity shocks you to your core.

When you open your eyes, you aren’t met with an image of the forest bathed in milky moonlight. Instead, you see a beautiful array of bursting colors—some of which you didn’t even know existed. They’re vibrant and filled with every emotion you’ve ever felt to the strongest degree; it feels like you’re tangled in the threads that weave your very soul together, but in the most beautifully inexplicable way.

It feels like years rather than moments before the colors fade and you’re left standing alone in the clearing. When you glance down at the knife in your hand, you’re shocked to see that it’s extended to become the length of your forearm, a swirling magenta pattern snaking around the meat of the blade as opposed to the blue lines in Jimin’s knife.

“Y/N?”

You glance up to see Jimin watching you carefully, a gleeful grin spreading on his face when he notices the glowing blade in your hand.

“You did it!” he cheers, running up to you to wrap you in his tight embrace. He pulls away moments later, hands immediately coming up to wipe away the tears on your cheeks that you didn’t know you’d been shedding. “I’m so proud of you, Y/N. You’ve come so far.”

“I’m a warrior,” you giggle, causing a bubbling laugh to fall from Jimin’s lips in return. “I-It’s so pretty, Jimin. And I feel… I’ve never felt… when it bonded with me…”

Jimin nods in understanding. “Your emotions are probably going to be running a little high until you get some rest. It’s expected after performing such an intimate ceremony.” He reaches out his hand for you to take, squeezing your palm comfortingly when you interlace your fingers with his. “Come on. I know a place where you can be alone with your thoughts for a little while; you probably need it.”

The place that Jimin shows you is beautiful. He parts with a gentle goodbye and a promise of returning within the hour, leaving you to take in the beauty of the scenery in stunned silence.

It’s a scenic overhang that gazes out across the expanse of the hilly forest of Elodia, a sea of glowing flowers illuminating the grass that sways in the gentle breeze. Seeing as the overhang isn’t shielded by any surrounding trees, a blanket of moonlight kisses everything you can see, the sight beautiful enough to nearly bring you to tears again.

You aren’t sure how long you sit out there, feet hanging over the edge of the rocky edge of the overhang when a voice announces its presence from just a few feet behind you.

“Is this seat taken?”

You nearly topple over the ledge at the sound of Jungkook’s voice, clearly not expecting to see him out of all people right now. Too shocked to speak, you simply shake your head no and scoot over a bit, holding your breath when he plants himself just a foot away from you.

“I wanted to say… that I’m sorry.”

That catches your attention, head swiveling to look at him with wide eyes. His gaze is focused on where his feet are swinging back and forth in the open air—a nervous habit that you seem to be mirroring.

“You’re… sorry?” you finally manage, voice barely above a whisper.

Jungkook nods. “I’m sorry. For the way I’ve been acting towards you. It’s—It’s unfair to you, and no matter what my personal feelings are regarding the situation, it doesn’t warrant me treating you so terribly. You didn’t ask for this, yet you left your entire life behind to fight for Elodia.”

“It’s not like I had much of a choice,” you mumble humorlessly. Jungkook tenses beside you.

“I know. But you’re still doing your absolute best to help, despite it all. Despite the treatment you’ve received from me.” He exhales slowly. “So I’m sorry. You’re not a burden, and you never were. I hope you can forgive me.”

“Jungkook…” you murmur, trying to find the “I…”

“It’s alright; you don’t have to say anything.” He finally looks up at you. “But I’ll make it up to you. I promise I will. Nothing bad is going to happen to you again; not on my watch. You’re Elodia’s last hope.”

He pulls his feet back up onto the ledge and stands before extending his hand out for you to take. You stare at his outstretched palm for a few moments before acquiescing and allowing him to pull you up from your spot on the ground.

“We should head back so you can get some rest,” he says once he releases your hand, nodding in the direction of the campsite in the woods. “We have a long journey ahead of us.”

a/n; wow. it has been quite a long time since i’ve updated this fic. i’m sorry that this update is so short & for it taking so long :( school has been A Lot & i’ve been working really hard on a big project to post later this month. but! i finally got off my ass and finished writing this chapter. think of it as an early christmas gift.

i apologize for any inconsistencies 🥺 it has been a long while since i dusted off this fic & worked on it, so not all of it is fresh in my brain. i also did not edit this before posting so i’m sorry for that too. i’m also sorry for how utterly horrible the pacing is for all the previous chapters bc i went in and reread them a while ago and... oof. ya girl really rushed that ish. maybe one day i’ll get to rewriting them so they’re better <3

TLDR; thank y’all so much for continuing to support this fic even though it’s been slow going with updates. your encouraging comments keep this fic alive 🥺 i love y’all!!! idk when the next update will be but i’ll do my best to have it out as soon as i can.

「 prev.   |   masterlist   |   next 」

© ughseoks 2020, all rights reserved. do NOT modify, translate, or repost my works. modification, translations, and/or redistribution of my works on any platform is strictly prohibited.

#networkbangtan #btsghostie #bangtanarmynet #jungkook x reader #bts fantasy au #bts x reader #jungkook x you #bts au #jungkook smut #bangtanuniversity

[tsarbomba567]

I have a nonbinary Serpentine OC. Their formal name is S-41, though they like to go by Samuel. They're a 7 feet tall (due to rapid growth genes), 15 year old Serpentine hybrid, with four ruby colored eyes and a yellow gem on their head and chest, that was conceived in a lab as a result of splicing the DNA's of Acidicus, Fangtom, Skales, Skalidor, and Pythor, as part of Project Vanguard. A paranoid introvert and masterfully skillful soldier, they regard themself as an abomination of nature and science, so they do everything they can to stay out of sight. They have the venoms of the Anacondrai, Constrictai, Venomari, and Fangpyre (called Omni-venom), as well as the power of hypnosis from the Hypnobrai; their eyes will change to the color of the tribe corresponding to the venom they're currently using (ex. yellow for Venomari, white for Fangpyre, etc.) At the age of 12, they were able to break out of the secret lab, and has been hunted ever since, thus why they've been on the run. Sometime after their escape, they managed to stealthily nab clothes to wear - including a long sleeved gray hoodie - from a clothing store; this is to hide the tattoo of "S-41" on their left forearm. They're in possession of three military-grade firearms (with silencers): a bolt-action sniper rifle (M2010 Enhanced Sniper Rifle ) nicknamed "Requiem," an assault rifle (Armwest LLC M4 carbine) named "Harbinger," and a pistol (.45 ACP SIG Saucer P320) named "Vengeance," in addition to a knife (Ka-Bar combat knife) named "Judgement" and the ammunition for said guns; this is despite the fact that they made a bow - and arrows - named "Justice" to save ammunition for their guns.

Backstory:

Sometime during the Serpentine's plan to release the Devourer, some scientists managed to get the blood samples from all five Serpentine generals. With them, they planned of creating weaponized Serpentine hybrids capable of combating the released Serpentine should they ever go to war with the humans, or any other threat for that matter; they coined this venture under Project Vanguard. As they began to create this supersoldier, they discover that the process was going to be more difficult than previously thought, since the first few hybrids that hatched suffered genetic defects that either killed them (both before and after hatching) or made their existence painful. As they very rapidly refined the process, the birth defects subsided and the future iterations lived longer. This eventually brings the scientists experiments S-30 to S-45, whom were given rigorous, advanced military training and education. Out of these fifteen, the one that stood out from the rest was S-41, who was more talented than the rest, though they seemed to exhibit signs consistent of being introverted.

During their time growing up, they were raised by a human named Jordan, whom was very fatherly to the hybrid. Unknown to the scientists at the facility, Jordan harbored Pro-Serpentine sympathies and feelings, and slowly groomed S-41 - or Samuel as he called them - to have these views, despite the project calling for the subjects to be groomed to have Pro-Human views. It seemed that as time progressed, these 15 hybrids became more attached to their handlers than what the program had initially wanted them to, so they were swapped out for more cold, cruel, anti-Serpentine individuals that those heading the project approved of. This led to the hybrids not only beginning to miss their former handlers, but also hating their new ones. Around this time, some of the scientists and facility members began to grow concerned that the project has been hijacked for a more sinister purpose, since the humans and Serpentine have taken on a more benign view of each other after the Second Serpentine War; this leads to some of them beginning to develop a plan on sabatoging the program, whether temporarily or permanently.

One day, the fifteen experiments were taken to the indoor shooting range, where they practiced their capabilities with firearms. Although none of them spoke about it, they all wished to get out of this hell that their new abusive trainers put them through, though they know that one false move will lead them getting terminated by the security guards. Suddenly, the lights to the facility go out, and the fifteen hybirds, seeing an opportunity to escape this nightmare, turn their guns on the security guards in the room and kill them; unfortunately for those guards, the hybirds naturally had night vision, whilst they didn't. As they begin to shoot their way out of the laboratory, they come across their old handlers and Jordan, who are slowly dying after being shot; those alive reveal that they and several other scientists were responsible for the blackout, and that the hybrids must destroy the facility at all costs. Intending on fulfilling their handlers' final wish, they set out and start fires throughout the faciltiy, though they're slowly being picked off one by one. By the time they reach an exit, there are only five hybirds remaining, and the other four told S-41 to go out first and secure the outdoor perimeter; after clearing the outside exit of armed personnel, they were awed by the beauty of seeing the outside world for the first time. Snapping back to the task at hand, they were about to motion to the others that the exit is clear, but an explosion sends Samuel off their feet; it turns out that some of the fires had ignited some flammable materials in the facility, causing an explosion. Horrifically realizing that no one could have survived such a blast, they run to the nearest vehicle, remove the license plates, and hot wires it, driving away from the blazing ruins.

Knowing that they'll get immediately spotted due to their unusual appearance, they decide to rob a small clothing store at night, disabling the security alarms and destroying the security footage, before picking out the clothes that they would wear. Knowing that they're most likely being hunted, Samuel takes every measure they can to stay out of sight. Of course, now living in a world foreign to the facility they've spent their life in, they'll have to learn their identity, that is their place in the world. The thought of getting captured or even killed by their pursuers have left them anxious and paranoid, constantly looking behind their shoulders and around at their surroundings. Above all else, all they wish is to kill those in charge of Project Vanguard, and if need be, bury the program for good.

#ninjago #ninjago serpentine #ninjago oc #s-41/samuel #nonbinary #jordan #s-41 #samuel

[rinzis]

writing about my new genshin oc??? okay?????okay!!!!!! i’m on mobile so i can’t add the read more option i’m so sorry

—

details

—

name: kiyoharu misa

birthday: august 3rd

sex/pronouns: female, she/her

region: inazuma

constellation: lunam lilia

vision: electro

weapon: sword

rarity: 5*

title: princess of the kiyoharu household, moonlit swordsmaiden (unofficial)

affiliation: kiyoharu clan, the resistance

—

synopsis

—

the princess of the fallen household kiyoharu. she carries a patterned umbrella which she is seldom seen without, and within which lies her precious katana. a gentle yet influential soul, she is well known for her impressive swordsmanship throughout the resistance in inazuma.

—

character story

—

character details

at first glance, people might not think that kiyoharu misa was anything special. seeing a young woman strolling through the land of inazuma carrying an intricate paper umbrella would not faze anyone. but, under this delicate guise, misa conceals both her dear katana and her vision.

the princess of the kiyoharu household is known to be a gentle soul who yearns for freedom from the raiden shogun and the tenryou commission. since her childhood, she has always been fascinated by the moon and its rays, a particular trait of kiyoharu descendants. misa earned herself the title of ‘moonlit swordsmaiden’ after combining her unparalleled swordsmanship with her illuminated vision.

story 1

the kiyoharu clan was once a widely respected and loved clan across inazuma. the household was known for its tendency to produce talented swordsmen who earn themselves visions through selflessness and helping others, and for this reason they were seen as high nobility. however, members of the kiyoharu household were reluctant in hiring many maids or servants - they believe that if one can be capable of harnessing the power gifted by gods through blade alone, one should also be able to cook a simple meal, or wash their own clothing. through this doctrine the kiyoharu descendants earned themselves unwavering respect from all citizens of inazuma, and even the raiden shogun herself - for a while.

story 2

descendants such as misa are taught from a young age to honour their ancestors, but also those who currently serve inazuma as well. misa excelled in swordsmanship, being able to wield a blade so gracefully to the point where it appeared as though she was dancing, using it as simply an accessory. the leader of the clan gifted to her a delicate paper umbrella, and he spoke to her these words: “do not mistake kindness for weakness. from dainty petals drip deadly poisons.”, and with that, misa understood her duty. she would protect the citizens of inazuma with her life, with her dainty umbrella and deadly blade at her side. she is seldom seen without either.

story 3

the kiyoharu clan were known best for the number of descendants who possess visions. thus, when the vision hunt decree was issued, the tenryou commission sought out every member of the household owning a vision. misa’s family would rather have died than hand over their precious visions. despite their unyielding fighting spirit, the kiyoharu household was overcome by the sheer numbers in the tenryo commission. there were supposedly no survivors, but it just so happened that the young kiyoharu misa was dispatched on a mission on behalf of the household the day it fell. the young swordsmaiden returned to her home in ruins, her whole life taken from her. she knew at that moment that as the sole descendant of the kiyoharu household, she would avenge her clan and return lost visions to those who suffer at the hands of the tenryo commission.

story 4

misa met all sorts of people on her journey through inazuma as a vision-bearing fighter, the most notable of all being the ronin kaedehara kazuha. she used to live a life of solitude in a small house near the edge of the islands of inazuma, but this life of solitude was changed upon seeing the rain-soaked samurai appear at her doorstep one evening. seeing each other’s visions, misa realised that kazuha was not a threat at all. the days they spent together inspired misa to venture out, to find the resistance in inazuma alongside the swordsman and reclaim justice for the fallen. and so, she left yet another life behind to travel with kazuha through inazuma in search of everything and nothing at all. nights of listening to the ronin’s musings and conversing under the moonlight unknowingly planted a blossom in misa’s heart, one which would remain there forever.

story 5

misa and kazuha’s travels took them all across inazuma. despite them both being wanted for their visions, the tenryo commission’s lackeys and treasure hoarders were no match for the pair’s skill in bladework. misa secretly yearned day after day for any sign of affection or mutuality from the young samurai, but as the princess of a famed clan she chose to remain composed and calm about the whole ordeal. however, when the ronin told the princess of his plan to leave inazuma with the crux fleet, he explained that he did not want to take this life from her. he confessed that his musings and haikus about the heart and its desires he so often shared with her were about her, and that his own heart would belong eternally to her. thus, he left her with a simple promise. “the wind will bring us together once again, misa. i will return home to you, and then will i forever devote myself to you. this i promise, my princess.”

the kiyoharu sword dance

those who have witnessed kiyoharu misa in battle often note how she appears more to be dancing than harshly fighting. the kiyoharu household drew its strength and style in battle from the moon and its light, and they channeled this into their blades during battle. misa’s god given agility combined with this graceful power leads ultimately to her captivating swordsmanship. with the electro imbued in her blade, misa is all too capable in taking down foes with ease. in the night hours, a stroll down to a clearing or open beach may lead you to find the princess honing her blade under the silver of the moon, with a sword that never sleeps. she is renowned throughout the resistance as one of the most talented swordswomen in inazuma.

the vision

misa was granted her vision during a particularly dangerous incident during her early training years. one fateful evening, she was out with other kiyoharu swordsmen, practicing her skills with her blade in the open country.

“lady misa, please remain here while we briefly survey the area. we have had reports of active treasure hoarders roaming this area, and we would hate for anything to happen to you at this time. we will be back shortly.”

and so, they left her on the path to scout the surrounding land. clutching the hilt of her sword, the very thought of being ambushed by grown men with malicious intentions worried misa, especially since she hadn’t obtained a vision yet. but alas, how wrong her fellow swordsmen were.

“well, what do we have here? the prestigious kiyoharu misa, is it? count ourselves lucky boys, it’s just the one we were after.”, drawled the advancing treasure hoarders.

her hands trembled on her sword. how could she possible deter these twenty, no, thirty treasure hoarders alone? glancing down at her sheathed blade, misa wondered if she’d see her family again.

no, why was she thinking like this?

steady yourself, misa. focus on your breathing. the dance will go on. your blade does not rest.

she draws her sword.

to the young swordsmaiden’s surprise, a new energy unlike anything she had witnessed before struck her senses. and so she danced, her blade piercing the air and with it bringing down the treasure hoarders in quick succession. but she could only go on for so long.

panting, misa retreated towards the edge of the river. the men relentlessly kept on coming, and she knew she was almost completely spent. her legs and hands quivered, and her mind raced with prayers to the goddess baal. with a small breath, she spoke these words:

“archons, guide me. i beg, lend me your strength.”

a faint crackling filled the air, before a tremendous burst of silver lightning struck the ground before her. the sword in her hands glowed a pale purple, and it was then that she realised the archons had answered her prayers. wielding this newfound power, she swung her blade with a new fervour.

twenty, no, thirty treasure hoarders lay at the princess of the kiyoharu household’s feet. the chime of a small ornament hitting the ground was the only sound after the crackling died down. at long last, kiyoharu misa’s vision had been granted to her by the gods. holding the electro vision in her hands, she whispered these words:

“the dance will go on.”

—

voice lines

—

hello

“i’m kiyoharu misa, nice to meet you! l-lady misa? oh no, please — there’s really no need for the formalities. i’m just as ordinary as you are. say, how about we travel together for a while? i’m sure your stories are bound to keep me entertained on our arduous journeys.”

chat: urgency

“a storm is brewing… let’s keep moving.”

chat: resting

“you’d like to rest? alright, want to share a quick meal?”

chat: sword

“i should really polish my sword soon…”

when it rains

“my my, it seems the heavens really have opened. let’s find shelter quickly, i’d hate to continue travelling in this weather.”

after the rain

“the lingering scent of the rain is one of my most favourite smells… for me, it heralds a fresh start. well, come on then! shall we head off?”

when it snows

“hmm… i really do enjoy the snow. especially when the moonlight casts a glimmering sheen over the world, enveloping inazuma in a soft silver. i hope we can witness it together sometime.”

when the wind is blowing

“i have a friend who adores the wind. he left some time ago, but i know he will return home to me one day. sometimes i wonder if i can hear his voice catching on the breeze, lines of poetry drifting along with it. hey, don’t give me that look! we’re just… uh… friends...”

good morning

“[sigh] i’m really not much of a morning person. i’m certainly not on my best form in the late morning hours… oh, you’re ready to leave already? r-right, i’ll be ready as soon as possible!”

good afternoon

“hmm, i’m feeling a little hungry… would you like to grab a bite to eat? no, it’s alright - there are inns up ahead that know the resistance. we’ll be just fine. and, if not, we have our blades. heh.”

good evening

“the setting sun is particularly pretty this evening. once the storm has fully settled, i hope to see the true beauty of the inazuman skies once again. i will see that vision to the end.”

good night

“you’re heading to sleep? alright, sleep well. me? well… the moon is my friend, i suppose. a little sword dance under its light helps me retain my focus. i won’t be too long, don’t worry.”

about kiyoharu misa

“my umbrella? oh, it was a gift from the leader of the kiyoharu household when i was born. i had it altered to accommodate the length and width of my sword - see? though it appears to be but a dainty paper umbrella, what lies within is a retribution sentence. it is my will given form.”

about us: kiyoharu origin

“my title as princess of the kiyoharu clan is something i will carry with me forever. despite the unjust fall of my household, i will bring back its honour. the raiden shogun’s vision hunt decree stripped my family of their lives, thus i swear i will reclaim justice. for them, and for the future.”

about us: kiyoharu motto

“the motto of the kiyoharu household is: “with grace and with fortitude.”, and i channel this saying into my sword whenever i draw it. it is the foundation for the kiyoharu way of life.”

about us: sword art

“ah, i see you have taken an interest in my fighting style. for me, fighting with a sword should not just be about the battle. it is an art, and i find myself overindulging in the grace and fluidity of swordsmanship all too often.”

about the vision

“my vision? i see it as a way of showing solidarity against the oppressive raiden shogun. i do not wish to hide that which is so dear to me, and that which forges my identity. this vision is my symbol of strength, and the tenryo commission who seeks it will be met with my unyielding blade.”

something to share

“i’m not sure how long you will be in inazuma for, but traveler - one day, i’d like to take you to a festival here. they are truly wonderful, and members of the resistance always find ourselves sneaking in to witness them as well. ever since i was young, i’ve loved them so much, and i’d love to share this memory with you as a reminder of your time in inazuma.”

interesting things

“traveler, is it true that in liyue there are gods that walk amongst the people? huh… adepti you say… so, they just co-exist with mortals peacefully? you’ve met them?! wow… it seems i underestimated your power! just what else have you witnessed since being in teyvat…”

about kazuha: relationships

“kaedehara kazuha? ahem… well… yes, i suppose you could say that we are… lovers, of sorts. on his final night here, he left me with a single promise. i often spend nights staring up at the moon with him in my mind. i will wait for him, for as long as it takes, i know that i will see him again one day. i know that he will return home soon.”

about kazuha: poetry

“kazuha would often recite haikus to me as we’d live together when he was here. i remember him arriving at my doorstep, drenched in rain from head to toe, and i hadn’t the heart to turn him away. he stayed for a while, and after a few days i decided to risk it all for him. the bond we share… is unbreakable. if you see him, let him know that i am waiting for him.”

about kamisato ayaka

“i have a lot of respect for the princess of the kamisato clan. she conducts herself in a light i admire greatly, and she and i are close friends. her swordsmanship is just as impressive, and i would love it if we could spar once more as we used to. perhaps i will visit her soon…”

about yoimiya

“yoimiya? oh, of course - festivals in inazuma aren’t complete without a firework show organised by her. i have also heard her skills with a bow are unique, to say the least. paired with her passion for fireworks, i assume the combination work… interestingly in battle.”

about sayu

“hm? sayu… you mean the ninja who resides in the forests? i can’t say i’ve seen much of her… which is odd, considering she wields that great claymore…”

about gorou

“oh, gorou! i know him very well, actually. he was one of the first people i befriended as part of the resistance. he is a sound fighter, and i believe he can achieve great things. perhaps i can see him again soon.”

about the raiden shogun

“the raiden shogun… her despicable vision hunt decree… the tenryo commission… i detest it all. to see so many people’s dreams stripped, to see the colour fade from so many precious hopes… i will see to it that this is all restored. i cannot sympathise with a god who robs her people of their dreams.”

more about kiyoharu misa i

“you’d like to know more about me? i’m flattered. i know that your journey through inazuma won’t be easy, so please don’t hesitate to drop by every once in a while. my blade never rests, after all.”

more about kiyoharu misa ii

“the carvings on my sword are most intricate. a swordsmaiden’s weapon is her will. i find myself staring at the moon night after night, and the patterns on my sword are a tribute to the power it lends me.”

more about kiyoharu misa iii

“you want to know about my title? well, moonlit swordsmaiden refers to the way i utilise my vision. the light of the moon reflects through the electro element, and i believe that through this combination i can convey the power of the resistance.”

more about kiyoharu misa iv

“i’m an only child, so the fate of the kiyoharu clan rests in my hands. traveler, i believe that through knowing you i have become a better person. i hope that you will visit inazuma once again.”

more about kiyoharu misa v

“here, this is for you. it’s a charm made from pure sea glass. the way the sun and moonlight reflects through its unique colours is a rare sight to behold. i suppose this is a thank you gift, for everything we’ve been through together.”

kiyoharu misa’s hobbies

“my hobbies? well, in the late night and early morning hours, i enjoy heading down to a secluded beach and basking in the moonlight. those hours are the perfect opportunity to practice swordsmanship, and the art of sword dancing too. besides that, i suppose i enjoy embroidery too, although i’m not particularly good at it…”

kiyoharu misa’s troubles

“i often worry about the other members of the resistance. i find myself questioning as to whether they still have their visions, or even their lives. on top of that, i hope that one day i will be reunited with my lover… i pray that he too made it out safely.”

favorite food

“my mother used to make the most takoyaki. my family weren’t so insistent on having maids running around when we could cook everything ourselves, so i would always snack on my mother’s dishes. even today, the taste of takoyaki brings back vivid memories of my mother.”

least favourite food

“honestly, i’m not much of a picky eater, but i’m not too fond of anything containing fish eggs…”

birthday

“happy birthday! it’s a special day for you today. is there anything in particular you’d like? no, don’t be silly, of course i’ll get it for you! seeing as you’ve helped me this far, it’s only right that i give something back to you! on top of that, if there’s anything you ever need at all, i’ll be sure to help you out, friend.”

feelings about ascension: intro

“my blade only grows stronger. let’s continue working hard.”

feelings about ascension: building up

“how to describe this feeling… lightweight, but more powerful. the dance will go on.”

feelings about ascension: climax

“with each passing day, my blade grows keener. the moon seems more radiant than ever before.”

feelings about ascension: conclusion

“i believe i owe you a great thanks. the moonlight that rains down on the world will forever be in your favour, traveler. both you and i will improve leaps and bounds from here on out.”

addition to party

“are we heading off?”

“alright, ready when you are.”

“it’s time, let’s go.”

elemental skill

“will of my sword!”

“shrouded in moonlight!”

(convergence) “cut them blind!”

(convergence) “beams, converge!”

elemental burst

“kiyoharu art: carver of radiance!”

“dance of death.”

“face my blade!”

fallen

“i thought… we’d meet… again…”

“friends… i’m sorry…”

“no… i wasn’t… done…”

—

talents

—

normal attack - kiyoharu sword art

perform up to 5 consecutive attacks with a sword.

charged attack: consume a set amount of stamina to unleash a more powerful attack, dealing physical dmg to enemies.

plunging attack: plunges from mid-air to strike the ground below, damaging opponents in an aoe upon impact.

elemental skill - remnants of moonlight

tap once: kiyoharu misa dashes quickly forwards, dealing electro dmg to enemies in her path. she leaves a thunderblade at her starting and end point of her dash.

tap again: the thunderblades converge with kiyoharu misa as the focal point, creating a triangular zone of convergence. enemies within the zone of convergence are dealt electro dmg and are knocked up. a mark of radiance is applied to enemies within the zone of convergence.

if the skill is not reactivated, the two thunderblades will converge in a line after 4s. marks of radiance last for 12s.

elemental burst - kiyoharu art: carver of radiance

kiyoharu misa leaps into the air, before plunging down and dealing a powerful slash to enemies, dealing massive electro dmg. for 3s after her slash, thunder strikes will crash down on enemies who are marked by mark of radiance, dealing extra electro dmg.

passive 1 - swordsmaiden’s revenge

enemies affected by a mark of radiance will take 15% more damage from kiyoharu misa’s normal and charged attacks.

passive 2 - thundering retribution

kiyoharu misa’s crit dmg is increased by 10% for 5s after a zone of convergence is activated.

natural passive - lightning clarity

all party members’ crit dmg is increased by 10% when kiyoharu misa is in the party.

—

constellations

—

constellation 1: tenacity of lightning

the duration of thunderblades on the field is increased to 6s, and the duration of marks of radiance on enemies is increased to 16s.

constellation 2: shredding thunder

enemies marked by marks of radiance have their elemental res decreased by 20%.

constellation 3: roots of kiyoharu

the level of kiyoharu art: carver of radiance is increased by 3.

constellation 4: fatal reunion

if there are more than 5 enemies within the zone of convergence cast by remnants of moonlight, the cooldown is decreased by 3s.

constellation 5: swordsmaiden’s unwavering will

the level of remnants of moonlight is increased by 3.

constellation 6:

kiyoharu art: carver of radiance deals 50% more dmg to enemies previously affected by electro.

—

appearance

—

kiyoharu misa is a young woman and is of average height, with light brown hair, tied half up in a braided bow and then tied at the very bottom. she has bangs which frame her face. her eyes are deep gray-purple, and she has a small scar across the bridge of her nose. her outfit is coordinated with white and lavender colours, and her paper umbrella is also patterned with lavender coloured lightning and flower patterns.

i’m horrible at art so here’s a fun picrew of misa …… this isn’t what she’d wear but it’s the closest thing to what i was imagining ig …… also the band aid is supposed to be her lil scar LOL

#finally dragged misa out of the drafts #zizi’s ocs

[mythandlaur]

So I have this weird thing I like to do with characters who have magic. It’s a little hard to explain, but I like to describe a character’s magical “aura” in a very aesthetic and metaphorical sort of way, kind of how their power “feels” both to themself and to others who might try to sense that power, or describing stuff I think evokes those feelings.

As expected, I’ve done this with several Puyo characters. Some of my friends liked the ones I showed them so I figured I may as well share. Several more under the cut!

-

Amitie has difficulty with her magic not because she isn't powerful or capable, but because controlling her magic is like trying to grasp a wisp of flickering flame in your hand. In fact, her power resembles all of the kinder sides of fire; bright and warm and playfully dancing about, not intending to hurt but fully capable of doing a lot of harm if ignored--or desired. Eventually, this power will grow into a blaze, a beacon of light and comfort for others, but for now it shimmers, ephemeral, just out of her grasp, like the pale rays of sunrise and the dust motes that dance in them, tingling a little too brilliantly on her fingertips before fizzling out as if laughing at her attempts to contain it.

Sig's magic feels like water lazily flowing through a creek, or perhaps something thicker--honey? Either way, it moves slow, steady, eating away at the earth around it at its own pace. A cool breeze, like sitting under the shade of a tree, or running your hand through the stream. Soothing. Clear. Quiet. And yet...there's something more underneath it. Harsher currents run under the stream, the bottom solid and powerful and...oddly warm. There is something more there, a storm that can be whipped into a destructive frenzy, but...it really doesn't want to do that. It does not want to destroy. It would rather carry on slowly, a pleasant tenor hum over a much stronger, but quieter, indescribable bass that gives it substance.

Klug's magic feels the way fizzy candy or carbonation does on your tongue; bright and sharp and sparkling and tingly. Like the way the end of a sparkler showers both light and sound into a hot summer night, or how a bottle rocket cracks and explodes with a brilliant flash. It's high-energy, vivid colors, wanting to burst out--but it's restrained. Carefully contained, perhaps more than it should be, in sharp lines and harsh angles. A wood block shaped to perfectly fit in a hole, a logical pattern. But it still burns at the ends of his fingers, still wild and still new, seeking to zip around the room until it completely exhausts itself. There's always a feeling of waiting for something more.

Strange Klug is limited to what power is already in Klug's body, so their two magics have some similarities; both are bright and angular and sparkling. But when possessed, his power takes on a darker tinge, and there is a well of pure rage fueling it. It's overpowering, suffocating, liable to knock you flat, and that's by design; it's something that takes you by the shoulders and shakes you and screams alongside a wailing siren, long and loud, demanding to be witnessed. It has the foreboding of the proverbial red sky at morning, of smelling smoke and not knowing exactly where it's coming from, and it is a desperate thing that pushes far past reasonable limits, panic and flashing red light and barely controlled with fingers digging and scrambling for purchase and refusing to let go.

Through no fault of his own, Lemres' power has grown from a bed of gnarled roots and wicked thorns that do all they can to block out the light, and sometimes you can feel a biting edge in his magic; a prick, a sting of acid, of poison, deep under the surface, especially when he is trying to hide the thornier parts of himself. But with time and care, flowers have bloomed, floaty, carefree-seeming petals and a bright gold-green like summer light through spring leaves. Lemres' magic burns not like fire, but stubborn sunlight that grew something from the depths of the dark, seeking to warm others but still wise to have a healthy respect for. It is strong, steady, and above all determined to shine.

Ringo's magic is odd. It's new, curious, clear, the sound of a tinkling bell above a shop door. It's your hair standing on end and goosebumps racing across your skin. And it grows like a brewing storm, giving and taking away in equal measure, not to be trifled with or dismissed by those on either side of it. It's taking a deep breath of crisp air at the top of a rollercoaster before plunging down and screaming with excitement at the top of your lungs. It's the sound an apple makes when you bite into it, that clean and crunchy sort of sound where you can feel the juice spraying out. It's on your tiptoes, on the cusp of something great, on the precipice. It's waiting for the gun to go off signaling the start of the race. Where it ends up, who can say?

Ecolo's magic is unknowable, in as much as it well and truly defies all the rules and laws of the world. It's a non-Newtonian fluid, a huge orb of something thick and oozy but quick and bouncy at the same time. It commands attention, but not in the way someone like Satan might--it's a chaotic barrage, an absolute, overwhelming assault on all of the senses, seeking not awe and fear, but rather any reaction at all. It's large, and strong, and it's easy to tell that much, but it's harder to tell the more cunning edge that runs underneath. A gelatinous cube waiting to consume an unsuspecting target who mistakes its shape for weakness. It's captivating, in a way, because it's so incomprehensible; the mind struggles to make some sense out of it, but it's all bright light and keening sounds and the feeling of balloon skin and colorful little rubber bands--though the potential for the latter to snap back and sting like nothing else should not for a moment be forgotten.

Satan has magic that is steady and powerful, honed over thousands and thousands of years like ancient stone cliffs. It's half as subtle and twice as dense as a mountain, demanding awe at its majesty. He casts spells as if he were a master artisan carving a grand, perhaps somewhat overly ostentatious statue that may last almost as long as he has. Stone and earth, sturdy and precise, yet with the sense of being very, very overbearing, like you are terribly small and insignificant next to it. And yet, events he will not speak of that no one else remembers has left a bitter tinge to his power, like coffee taken death black and the burnt ends of toast. Perhaps that only adds to the aesthetic. Perhaps he will pretend that's all it is.

He may not have as much innate magic as the others, but Lagnus' (Madou Saturn ver.) power is gold-painted steel shimmering blue, strong and durable and almost too shiny, enough to blind someone if he's not careful with it. But it isn't just pomp and circumstance, either; it's the sound your feet make on a well-worn trail and it's a mess of callouses, and even after Satan wiped the slate clean, there are whispers of old darkness, of the endless curses Lagnus took, giving up parts of himself for others. Underneath all the gold, it's warm the way a fireplace in an inn is, or a noble horse's coat in the sun. It is good not because of naivete, it is good because its wielder is determined to keep it in that shape even in spite of all that has happened--determined to keep it a healing, guiding light.

Ajisai (my version of the original book demon) had a power that was methodical and playful in equal measure, burning majestic like crimson-violet sunsets. It’s like satin ribbon dancing about with a flourish of the hand, a seemingly errant shower of sparks that's actually choreographed in a careful display. It's crisp and sharp and full, but gives the impression of having more running underneath it than meets the eye. An elegant thing, rich mahogany and old leather, but with an undercurrent of mischief that keeps it from being too terribly intimidating. It's when that impish, whimsical quality is completely absent that one should fear for their life.

#puyo puyo #i can't tag everyone or it won't show up in any tags at all