#she is a legendary herself technically[at least one in progress]

[picavecalyx]

silva is literally built different and i think it's funny 😔

#study. #i have posts about silva's relationship with paradoxes/ultrabeasts JDJTNDJRJSJJES #but sating she's built different is just a good summary because its Literally True #she is a legendary herself technically[at least one in progress] #though usually she doesnt actually take any of them *with* her #the only exception so far is the shiny Terapagos #everyone else is temporary #the roaring moons and slither wings stay in area zero #mog/lunala[depending on the timeline] remains in ultra space #and ogerpon is literally just her bestie thats it LMFAO #verse. pokemon.

[redolentgrove]

Salutations,

You are receiving this notice as an invitation to attend a gala hosted within the estate of the esteemed Lord Abbadon Reagent Arkantus, Arceus of universe-1493, on Monday, August 31st.

To note for when you arrive.

Attire is to be formal. Dress to impress.

You will be expected to be of your utmost behavior.

Your host will provide food, Drink, and Festivities.

While this event is for adults, if you must bring your children there will be activities to entertain them.

You are allowed to bring a +1 to this event.

Sincerely, Abbadon R. Arkantus

———————————-

Well, this is going to be a nice event.

Loki read the invitation carefully. The first notes were easy enough. She had plenty of formal attire at hand; this was far from her first gala, after all. Eight hundred years and being half-mythical brought plenty of events into her life, especially formal ones such as galas. And she didn’t have any children around… well, besides Bijoux, and she was eighteen, so technically she qualified for ‘adult’ status.

The plus-one might prove troublesome, though. Part of the hybrid would have been dead set on inviting Charade. But she hadn’t even told the Meowscarada she liked her, let alone the whole ‘crush’ thing. No, she wasn’t going to make the same mistakes she’d made in the past. She recalled the Latios she wanted to take to a Valentine’s dance that ended with gentle rejection, among several other misfires with Pokemon she developed those quick feelings for. She had to be sure before she went with something so formal.

Maybe she’d bring Bijoux? She knew her daughter was gunshy around mythicals and legendaries, but given that she’d been slowly developing friendships with Lucifer and Ellowyn, with multiple visits from the former, Loki was at least hopeful that the Cinccino-taur would be receptive to the idea of going there. But as a plus-one? Would that have been tacky?

Cascade? No, this, again, would have been far too formal. The Dragonair had already let her know in no uncertain terms that they were just friends. No feelings reciprocated. Sure, they could have gone together as friends, but again, Loki felt as though it would send the wrong message to make the offer. And who knew if Cascade had a good rapport with the legendaries? Maybe she’d offended one of them, for all she knew. It was better not to risk it.

But she didn’t want to go alone! That would have been yet another level of awkwardness she didn’t want to explore. She’d feel self-conscious, potentiall not knowing even a single Pokemon there. 

The sound of strumming harp strings broke the Skyfeon-taur out of her thoughts. At first she wasn’t sure of the song being played, so she closed her eyes, letting the melody reach her ears and become more clear. It was about the halfway point of the song, perhaps the opening parts of the second verse. The progression seemed too deep to be from the opening lines.  And the sounds it made… this was a concert grand harp. The artistry of its tones, the flexibility of its octaves and pedals… it was unmistakeable. This was the largest of all harps, with pedals and all of the mechanisms to fine-tune the notes at hand.

Loki listened further. And despite recognising the melody more on the piano, knowing it came alongside words, this was an incredibly familiar song. A simpler one at its core, but one that brought joy and hope to the heart. Slow, methodical, inspirational. And then the chorus came, and she knew exactly what she’d been listening to.

Go the Distance. That’s the one. And with the song’s name in mind, she knew the lyrics without needing to hear them sung. Interestingly, the words weren’t sung. It reminded her of lessons with her kids… herself on the piano… she’d used it for generations as practice and even, when as solely an instrumental, a lullaby on occasion. And in fact, it had been one of Bijoux’s favourites to use as a sing-along. At least, before her voice changed. Wait… it couldn’t have been her behind the instrument… could it!? Surely she would have been singing if that were the case…

The sounds and chords began to transpose upward slightly. She recognised the motions and sounds, noting that the song was moving into its final chorus. Loki’s chase toward the source of the harp’s music hastened; she knew she was about to hear the ending and potentially lose the chance to find out the identity of the mystery virtuoso.

She reached the correct clearing just as the final note strings were plucked, peeking out from an outgrowth of foliage to catch sight of familiar blue… hair? Cascade is the harpist? Loki got closer, simply wanting to be sure of her thoughts. And yet, as events played out…

“That was phenomenal. Are you sure you’ve never played in a band, dear?” Cascade’s voice was evidently speaking to whoever had just been playing, so that eliminated her being the actual harpist. So next down Loki’s line of thought…

So Cascade is a music tutor. Well, that one was believable enough. She had the patience and demeanor to work well with kids, after all. So whoever was actually playing the instrument, it wasn’t the Dragonair. But as Loki got closer, it wasn’t just any student she saw sitting there, it had been who she had vaguely suspected from the song choice. 

“Promise.” Bijoux’s familiar voice sounded out in reply to the Dragonair. “Hard to make band when your instrument’s already been occupied by someone who jumped into the instrument long before you. Wasn’t even worth trying by the time I had enough confidence to go for it.”

Cascade’s tailtip swished and Loki peered further around the plants separating her from the pair. The Dragonair’s hand gently patted Bijoux’s shoulder, and the younger taur smiled broadly in return. “I think you would have been a great harpist at your school. And hey! You have four more years at college once you start there, to make a name with your mastery of the strings.”

Bijoux’s eyes looked expectantly over at the naga at that. “Cascade… do you really think I’m going to stand a chance at Harmonia, though? I bet you almost all of those students have been playing since the instant they had enough dexterity to handle an instrument!”

“You never know if you don’t try, sweetheart.” The Dragonair’s gaze wandered, catching sight of Loki out of her eye’s corner, but choosing to ignore her for the moment. “You certainly have the potential and skill to do wonderful things with the harp. And, interestingly, I don’t think I’ve ever heard that song you chose today, either. It sounds like something that should have been accompanied by words, not something out of a classical lesson book.”

Bijoux chuckled mirthfully. “Caught onto that? Yeah… most of the time people play this one on the piano, not the harp. And there are definitely lyrics to it. It’s actually one Mom played for me while I sang the words with her. I’ll sing them for you eventually. But I wasn’t going to sing them today; Mom was going to recognise my voice in an instant if she happened to hear it.”

Cascade now looked more directly at Loki, arms folding. The hybrid slumped defeatedly at this, knowing she probably wasn’t supposed to have come over here. “Loki…” the Dragonair murmured, a cue that Bijoux didn’t immediately catch, having turned back toward the harp and kneeling next to it to begin wiping a couple of stray pieces of her fur that had nestled in toward the bottom of the frame.

“Right. I don’t really want Mom to figure this one out; I want it to be a surprise.” The Cinccino-taur slowly rose to stand at her full height. She tracked the entirety of the instrument, now cleaning the strings. And once those were done to her approval, she now had to stand on her hind legs to reach the upper frame. That having been cleaned, she stood comfortably and proudly by the instrument; its six-foot height made the four-foot-ten Bijoux look even smaller by comparison. It was a cute visual… one that made Loki smirk faintly.

“Bijoux, honey, about that…” 

Cascade pointed toward Loki’s location, causing the smaller taur to look over once she finished inspecting the harp. She squeaked out in surprise, sighting the purple hybrid’s gaze meeting her own. “Mom, I…”

“I should have known from the song,” Loki began, before being cut off by Cascade’s raised hand.

“I think I should let you two talk this one out alone,” the Dragonair hissed, a hint of nervousness in her voice, gathering herself with a quick puff of air. Her tone softened when she addressed the Cinccino-taur one last time. “Bijoux, when you’re done, make sure that harp goes back in its case, okay? It’s a rental; I don’t want anything happening to it.”

Bijoux nodded toward Cascade. “I promise.” 

That was enough to convince the serpent, who slithered past Loki with a subtle shoulder-brush against her side. Clearly it was a sign that there was about to be an awkward conversation, but one that needed to happen despite it all. And once the naga had left the clearing entirely, Loki looked back at Bijoux, who had guilt written all over her muzzle.

“Bijoux, I have one question for you,” Loki rumbled, stepping forward to meet her daughter face-to-face.

“Um… what’s up, Mom?” The Cinccino-taur blushed brightly, holding her arms anxiously. “Look, I can explain…”

“Do you rent or own those wings, you little angel? That was sublime!”

Bijoux couldn’t help but laugh heartily at Loki’s awful, borderline cringeworthy statement. With a shy blush and a warmly wagging tail, she held her hands together and beamed proudly. “What, you didn’t think the only strings I knew how to pluck were heartstrings, did you, Mom?” It was an uncharacteristically teasing remark from the Cinccino-taur, eliciting a nervous but appreciative giggle from her mother. “Kidding, kidding. Sorry. Um.. how much of that song did you hear?”

“Hey, fair’s fair; I know that was bad. I’ll let you have that one.” Loki brushed at her flower lazily, tail wagging against the light, oncoming breeze. “And, well, I heard more than enough to know that if you could have played even remotely close to that at auditions, you would have easily made the school band. How long have you been playing the harp? And how come I never knew about this?”

“Um.” Bijoux knew she couldn’t dance around it too much, but she somewhat deflected the second half of Loki’s question. “I’ve been playing the since middle school. I just… never really sat there and did much with it. By the time I got good at it in high school, they already had a really skilled harpist in Tina, so I figured, you know, I’d play it for fun.”

“Tina?” Loki interjected. “That Amped Toxtricity girl? I remember her from your talent show, winning ‘best instrumental performance’ on that harp. Ironic that someone ‘amped’ would pick such a relaxed instrument…”

“Yeah, that was her. Anyway, uh… when I told Cascade about wanting to work on rehearsals to maybe make college band… she sprung out and rented one to help! We have it until the end of September… I kinda hoped I’d be able to surprise you on your birthday, but now you kind of know already…”

Loki’s tail swayed in thought. “Darling, I’m sorry… you know how I am with things like this. Music has always been such an unbridled passion of mine. I’d make an attempt to forget and let it be a surprise, but you know I never forget hearing music! But… how come I’ve never heard the harp here in Redolent Grove?”

”I don’t think I ever felt quite as at ease with the harp as I do with my voice,” Bijoux countered. “I love the way playing it sounds, the feeling of strumming each string to tell stories like I can verbally. But ultimately, while I love playing the harp, it’s still… I don’t know, newer to me than singing. I worked on my technique and stuff at school when I was sure you wouldn’t be around…”

Loki’s head tilted slightly. “Wait, so it wasn’t just my song you were practising all those times after school? I wish I could have known about this passion of yours.I would have cherished hearing you play!”

Bijoux shook her head. “Nope. I’m sorry I never told you about this. I guess I didn’t want the extra expectations like I had with that promise of singing for you. It made things feel… more natural, in a sense. I mean, don’t get me wrong; I have a lot of fun singing. I just… wanted at least one hobby that didn’t have the burden of feeling a need to impress you or anyone else.”

Loki’s ears wilted at that. “Listen… I know I put a lot of pressure on you after forcing you to promise to sing a solo when we worked on your speaking and singing voice together. When I had you make that promise, as much as I did it out of love, I know it was wrong. I guess… it’s only fair that you would keep other passions of yours from me, if you didn’t want any other pressure on your shoulders. But I can’t help being curious, if you had the chance… would you perform with this? Even if it were just for me and Cascade, maybe Celeste if she comes to visit?”

Bijoux looked left, then right, then at last nodded slowly. “I’d perform for a  literal global audience if I got the chance,” she admitted. “You know, when I sat there and watched Tina play, I could always pinpoint how flawed her stance was. Little errors in technique, missed rhythms, missing notes by a half or even a full step at times. If I’d just even tried to audition, I probably could have taken over that instrument entirely with enough practice. If nothing else, by senior year. But I didn’t… between choir, math bowl, yearbook, all that. I just told myself it wouldn’t be worth it. And then you’d know and I was scared it wouldn’t be fun anymore.”

The hybrid certainly understood the logic behind her daughter’s reply. But she was still curious about something. “Was singing not fun for you?”

“It was.” Bijoux remained stoic in her reply, despite sensing Loki’s slight doubt. “It still is. But the more the pressure from that promise built up, the more it almost wasn’t. I’m thankful every day that I was still able to find joy in music despite every feeling I began to have otherwise. I can’t help feeling that I made a mistake, not going for it when I had the chance.” Bijoux stood up slowly, striding over to her mother’s side and nuzzling her right cheek quietly. “And now that after all of that stress was released after the talent show, I feel like I could perform anywhere, for anyone.”

Loki chuckled, nuzzling Bijoux’s left cheek in response. “Well, then I think your first big performance is going to be a lot sooner than you’d expect.” She handed Bijoux the gala invitation, looking worried the longer the Cinccino-taur stared at it.

Bijoux’s face began to pale into a ghostly white. Lord? she thought. Arceus? Mom really wants me to perform in front of God himself!? She can’t actually be serious… But, realising that her mom was watching, Bijoux did her best to contain her emotions, thinking long and hard about what song she would even pull from her memory banks. Then, it hit her… a song befitting of one of her most re-read, cherished myths.

“Bijoux?” Loki’s voice was drowned out by her daughter’s racing mind.

She’d played it plenty on her school’s concert harp, when she could sneak in and get in practice sessions while Tina had chosen to instead work on her rehearsals at home. It was perfect. Telling a tale of the gods and myths, in a room of legendaries and mythicals… nothing else would do for such a venue. It was perfect. She gathered herself best she could, though she was still evidently rattled enough to give Loki cause for concern.

“Bijoux… if you want to wait, you-” Loki offered, but she wasn’t afforded the opportunity to finish said offer.

The normal-type lifted a hand up to stop her mom mid-sentence. “No,” she said, her denial flat and to the point. “My mom herself is a mythical Pokemon. Mister Lucifer and Aunt Ellowyn are mythicals. I’ve been able to slowly build up confidence being honest around them. If I can do that… I can perform for a bunch of legendaries. They’re strangers. They don’t know me. No expectations. No pressure. Even if you’re there…”

Loki smiled proudly at Bijoux’s sudden confidence. Even if that hadn’t necessarily been true about legendaries not knowing her. Certain ones of them would have that level of omnipotence to realise who the Cinccino-taur was, even long before sharing a room, or even a universe, with her. But that wasn’t the important part, and besides, it wouldn’t have done anyone any good to put unnecessary fear in Bijoux’s mind. “If you’re sure of it? Let’s get to work.”

Bijoux wagged a finger. “Nope,” she mumbled with a casual dismissal. “You’re a mythical, remember? This one’s going to need to be as much of a surprise to you as it is to them. Can’t have you propping yet another burden on my shoulders like I felt all through high school. I need to practice this alone… just like I always have.”

Loki had been ready to protest this, remembering the song that the younger taur had last performed. She didn’t want another performance to mentally destroy her like the last one had, but… Bijoux had a point. This had to be her performance, her choice to make. “As long as it’s not ‘Safest Place to Hide,’ I’m willing to let you surprise me.” The pair smiled broadly at one another at this confirmation. “Make yourself proud, and I’m sure the rest of us all will be just as enthralled with your performance. I’ll leave you to it.”

Bijoux shocked her mom with a pouncing bearhug, using both her arms and her forelegs to encompass the larger taur’s body. Though she didn’t hold it long, Loki could feel the love in her daughter’s grasp. And when the Cinccino-taur let go, she let out a roaring purr of approval. “That one, I can promse, isn’t on the playlist. I don’t think ‘Go the Distance’ is quite what I’m after, either, but it might make an appearance later in the set. But I have… another song in mind for this type of crowd. One that I know is going to make a splash. But anyway… thanks for being supportive, Mom. I love you.”

Loki grinned broadly. Clearly, this had been the answer to building Bijoux’s confidence. Let her be herself. Don’t add any more pressure or expectations from the outside. Trust her to be honest. She turned and took a step backward, offering her kindest smile to the younger taur.

“I love you, too. And I’m proud of you.”

Loki had her plus-one, at minimum. Bijoux hadn’t received an invitation, so Loki would bring her to help  And if she somehow managed to fight her budding doubts to ask Charade and she accepted… she’d find a way to force it into a plus-two, and make sure that Bijoux got to have her chance. Even if it didn’t say that outside performances were welcomed… she’d make sure her daughter had a way to play for someone there. Somehow.

And as Loki turned and walked away, she heard the sounds of pattering feet, looking back one last time to catch a glimpse of Bijoux gently and effortlessly manoeuvring the harp into a black covering, enclosing it in a large, wheeled case. One that she knew she’d see opened again, a lot sooner than later…

(( Ask hints have been updated! Loki and Bijoux, at minimum, will be attending the upcoming gala at the end of August.))

#submission #loki leafmintaur #bijoux cinccinotaur #cascade dragonair #plot #event planning

[gegenji]

A Minute Movement of Masks and Monsters

There was a bit of a sickening crick as Tsunene finally got up from her work and forcibly popped the stiffness out of her back. A sound that echoed a bit over-loud in the chamber she had been toiling in. A chamber that - while a few degrees less cramped than the musty cell she had been in not all that long ago - still felt a bit like a prison.

The reasoning for that was a bit complicated, of course, since it was technically different from those prior arrangements. She was... relatively free to come and go as she pleased, though she always had the strange suspicion whenever she did depart that some manner of eyes were on her at all times. And, as was promised, the facilities were decently well stocked for her purposes. Purposes that were at the behest of her strange benefactor, rather than her own desired goals.

And that was honestly the rub of the whole situation: she had wanted to make super-soldiers off of this strange and potentially profitable discovery she had all but been handed as an act of providence. She had planned to amass wealth and fame and power with her alchemical genius in deciphering the mystery and replicating its results. Not be stuck in relative obscurity, limited to trying to create the next big gimmick for the brutes of the Bloodsands to throw themselves at.

Though, to be fair, she argued with herself as she idly cracked each finger joint individually, this was still technically better than the alternatives. The idea of having a wealthy patron to fund her experiments and developments was not something she could so easily dismiss out of hand. And even being stuck doing this sort of... alchemical grunt-work was infinitely preferable to withering away in a Flames jail cell. Or, worse, having to fight it out on the Bloodsands like her former assistant D'lilac.

D'lilac who - thanks to Tsunene's gift, of course - was doing quite well on that front. An up-and-coming rising star of the gladiatorial world with a "special technique" that was "surprising, entertaining, and enticingly powerful." Or, at least, that's what all the posters about her liked to proclaim. Posters likely manufactured by that selfsame patron and benefactor.

While the alchemical genius herself was stuck huddling over beakers. Seeking to replicate some variation of the formula from sheer memory and experimentation to meet with the ever-rising standards her one successful test subject was setting. Which was certainly moving faster than Tsunene's progress. The lady Plainsfolk had managed some interesting results on the test beasts that had been provided to her, but given all the positive buzz the 'Legendary Leozaru' or whatever was getting... they didn't seem quite good enough.

It figured, Tsunene noted with an irritated sigh, that her troublesome assistant continued to make things more difficult for the lady Plainsfolk even in her successes.

All of this added up to just one thing: that it was definitely time to step away from the alchemical table and get some fresh air. Clear her head and indulge in what little freedoms she did have, comparatively. And perhaps in some of those delectable pastries from down in the markets. If she was going to be observed while out and about, she might as well be observed enjoying something sweet.

... Or that had been the plan, anyway. Tsunene had only made it halfway up the staircase that went from her alchemical workshop to the door when the latter creaked open and her way was figuratively and quite literally blocked by the hulking form of Swyrkhan. The Roegadyn wearing one of his apparently massive collection of similar-looking pinstripe vests. This one having the audacity of being a bright yellow - as if mocking the lady Lalafell with the color of the sunlight she was being denied at the moment.

And it got only more problematic from there, because the big lug wasn't alone. Moving in a dramatically sharp movement that Tsunene thought - or perhaps hoped - would've sent the lumbering behemoth tumbling over the railing to the floor below, Swyrkhan sidestepped to give way to the lady Lalafell's second guest.

None other than her ‘illustrious’ patron himself: "Master Hohoyahu."

As the name suggested, the man in question was a Lalafell like herself - Dunesfolk rather than Plainsfolk - and to stick to more... polite adjectives in order to describe him, Tsunene would likely go with "eccentric." After all, a man whose only constant was the black-and-white jester's mask on his face while everything else from clothing to hair to even eye color seemed to change at whim every time she saw him could hardly be considered "normal." And that was before one got caught in conversation with him. Something that Tsunene had a sinking feeling was an inevitability now.

"Ah, there's my masterful alchemist!" the masked Dunesfolk announced in a voice that somehow seemed to be even more bombastic than Swyrkhan's. And the Roe already seemed to speak as if he were on a stage rather than in a normal conversation. Hohoyahu paused only long enough for the echo in the chambers to begin to fade before he continued right on. "I do hope this sun has been most agreeable for your research!"

"'Twould be far more fortuitous if I was free to fetch myself some food," Tsunene grumbled quietly, deigning to not reveal that this was for sweets. And quietly hoping that presenting the need to eat in a more vague sense would allow her to escape. A hope that was quickly dashed.

"Now now now, sustenance can wait for just a minute or two, can it not?" Hohoyahu countered, waggling his finger - an action Swyrkhan mimicked, which only made the motion all the more irritating to Tsunene. They were like some sort of deranged buddy act. "After all, I have so graciously come to see what progress you have made for me! With D'lilac making such wonderful waves, the audience is ready and willing to see what else we can bring!"

"Progress plods, as per what I have perpetually presented in those superfluous reports I pen for you," the alchemist stated flatly. "Seeking to synthesize the solution from scratch without source material - let alone make modifications for your 'marketable monsters'  - is not an act I can accomplish with any sort of alacrity."

"Now now now!" came the counter, in the exact same cadence and pitch as before. "We both know you have quite the mind in there." He was in front of Tsunene in a quick flourish of a step that her eyes could only barely follow and... actively knocked on her head as if it was made of wood. "I'm sure you must have something to show for your work thus far!"

Tsunene stumbled back a couple steps, rubbing at the bruise she was absolutely sure was forming where her erratic patron had rapped on her skull. "I can present the potion I have prepared thus far, sussed using sanguine samples from your supposed celebrity," she relented, motioning stiffly back down the stairs. "But I offer no promises as to its potency. Instead, it has proved... problematic."

"Intriguing!" Hohoyahu stated with a sharp clap of his hands before motioning for her to proceed on ahead of him. "Let us go and take a look then, shall we? I'm absolutely certain that together we can solve whatever problems you're having!"

“... Delightful.”

“Indeed!”

A forcefully swallowed sigh, and Tsunene started her slow trek back down the stairs - her dreams of pastries on hold until she had sufficiently placated her patron. To hurry that process, she began her explanation once she heard Hohoyahu and his manservant following behind. Which wasn't too difficult, given the sharp clack of their shoes on the stone of the staircase. She wouldn'tve been surprised if they were wearing tap shoes or something - they seemed the sort.

"Given my former fellow's... feline features, I figured that the first flagship should be of similar stock," she explained matter-of-factually as she descended. "Her tincture turned her towards that... more primal state. So it stood that solutions sourced from her should show similar results..."

"And that's why you requested the couerl kitten!" Hohoyahu chimed in with another clap of his hands that neatly interrupted Tsunene's train of thought. "I knew there was a reason for that one."

"Impeccably deduced, sir. And lo, we provided as we said we would," Swyrkhan added with a grand spread of his hands. Or as much as he could without bashing one of them into the wall. "And many suns ago besides. So, Sunshine-" Tsunene frowned at the nickname. "-whatever happened to that illustrious little test subject?"

"Suns spent ensuring the subject wouldn't simply... succumb to an untested solution!" the lady Plainsfolk snapped, pausing on the bottom-most step and whirling around on the Roegadyn. She paused to collect herself - not willing to give either of them the satisfaction of seeing her flustered - and adjusted her glasses. "I am a professional, not a poisoner."

“So! No... catdavers, then,” Hohoyahu interjected, forcing Tsunene to swallow a groan this time as her patron made a dramatic bow for his horrendous wordplay.

“No... sir...” The sarcasm dripped despite her best attempts to restrain it, and she moved to a holding cell set in the wall. Well away from everything else, for good reason. “Not as such.”

A click, and Tsunene pulled open the door and motioned inside. Inviting them in. “She has a...” She groaned a little before continuing. “Stormy disposition. So step lightly.”

“There we go, Sunshine!” Swyrkhan applauded. “By the Twelve, we might even see a smile from you at some point!”

“Unlikely.”

Hohoyahu merely laughed behind his mask, and strode through the door without nary a care in the world. And then there was a brilliant flash as a bolt of lightning crackled out from the darkness of the cell, striking where the bombastic Lalafell stood.

Or where he had been standing. There was a blackened mark where he had been, but the Dunesfolk himself was mere ilms off to one side. And, for some inexplicable reason, in a pose.

Tsunene wasn’t quite sure which part of it assaulted her sensibilities more.

“My!” Hohoyahu gasped dramatically. “You certainly...”

Another bolt of lightning sidestepped, complete with new pose.

“Weren’t...”

And a third, with similar results as Hohoyahu twirled into a flourish on the third dodge.

“Kidding!”

As the eccentric Dunesfolk pressed further onward, Tsunene could only gape in disbelief before turning to the Roegadyn manservant who seemed completely unfazed by such antics. And only one word managed to escape her lips: “How?”

“Ah, but a true performer never reveals their secrets!” Swyrkhan countered, in a cadence that instantly identified the quote as something from Hohoyahu himself. Then, with a chuckle, the Roegadyn surprised her further by obliging with an actual answer. Of sorts. “Master Hohoyahu has always claimed to be able to see a couple steps ahead in the dance.”

“And such foresight somehow allows him to sidestep being struck by lightning!?”

“You created Miqo’te able to shapeshift into a beast,” Hohoyahu responded from a couple steps behind Tsunene, startling her with the suddenness. Whirling about gave her an even more audacious sight: a striped puffball was floating lazily and purring mere ilms above the masked Lalafell’s head. The static of the cloud-couerl kitten causing his hair to stand on end.

“I would’ve thought that brought with it a far more open mind,” he sighed grandly and shook his head, the action allowing some strands of hair to escape the static pull and drift back down into place. “Nevertheless, I rather like this one. Does she have a name?”

“... Subject C-1.”

“No no no!“ Hohoyahu countered with another waggle of his finger as the kitten made lazy circles around his head. “That will not do!“

He immediately pointed to Swyrkhan. “Dear, dear Swyr, you always seem to have a knack for names. If you would, please? Show her how it’s done.”

The Roegadyn folded his arms over his chest and let out a long, thoughtful sound. As if he were observing a grand painting in a museum. Stout fingers stroked a chiseled chin time and time again as the Sea Wolf pondered. And then, as if inspired by an aesthetically appropriate bolt from the blue...

“Mjeowlnir.”

“There we go!” Hohoyahu laughed with a clap of his hands, startling the newly named kitten - who sent out little sparks of lightning all over the place in her alarm. None of which hit the masked Lalafell, of course, but also fortunately did not travel far enough to strike the other two. Though Tsunene scampered back - and behind Swyrkhan to use him as a human shield - just in case.

“Well done, Swyr. A master of words, as always,” Hohoyahu continued, reaching up to scoop the floating fluffball into his arms. “Well, I think this delightful little prize is proof enough that you still have merit. I do look forward to what else you will create.” He started his way back up the stairs before pausing a couple steps up. “Preferably a little more monstrous next time, if you please.”

And then he continued his ascent, running his fingers through the frizzy floof of Mjeowlnir.

“Do make sure to take the Master’s suggestions to heart,” Swyrkhan added in an overly dramatic stage whisper, a hand over his mouth as if to direct the words only to Tsunene. “It is... in your best interests.”

With that enigmatic warning, the Sea Wolf followed after his patron - taking the steps three at a time to catch up to the smaller man - and leaving Tsunene still wondering what all had just happened. Though the few moments of almost deafening silence that followed after that bombastic duo had left didn’t help clear that question up any. Instead, it left the lady Lalafell wishing she was just dealing with D’lilac’s eccentricities again.

... and with a desire for something to drink to go along with that pastry.

#ffxiv #kyodai hero #story #tsunene #hohoyahu #swyrkhan

[rabbitbatthing]

If the character thing is still open, tell us more about team bad end! i was always curious about what exactly goes wrong with icarus&skye :O

👀👀 technically speaking “bad end” covers all the pmd games (though mostly the first 2, still gotta figure out how i want to interpret Super’s story), but Hell Yeah I’m more than willing to share stuff about Sky and Icarus

THAT BEING SAID, with these two it’s less a single thing going wrong and just, a long string of things that progressively get worse:

Icarus (the partner)’s motivations for starting a rescue team aren’t exactly altruistic. He didn’t plan on getting attached and figured it’d just be a quick gig he could do before flying under the radar and leaving for somewhere else, but then he ended up liking the rescue team gig and decided to stick with it. He gets invested in this little rag-tag team.

And when he gets invested, that’s when the stuff with Gengar really starts screwing the both of them over and he starts feeling guilty about taking advantage of Sky’s amnesia situation/dragging her into the rescue team thing and getting her involved.

Meanwhile, Sky does start out a bit susp™ of Icarus because who just recruits amnesiacs, but through lack of any other options she decides to follow along and help him with the rescue team thing. Like previously stated, things don’t start noticeably going south until Gengar becomes a factor.

She’s appalled by what he’s willing to do just to make a quick buck (who the hell blackmails children?!) and does her best to make her team better out of spite towards him. You know, after beating his team and leaving him with some choice words

Things are tense but mostly fine until after Zapdos is fought and Shiftry is rescued. Sky/Icarus end up going to the Great Canyon and learn that the world’s imbalance is linked to a human becoming a pokemon (as Gengar eavesdrops), they hear the Ninetales legend, and then shit hits the fan in 24 hours or less because Gengar turns an entire town against Sky. And she can’t defend herself because she doesn’t remember. Not that it would probably matter, when the world is literally falling apart and everyone’s paranoia is at an all time high, she likely wouldn’t have been able to make a case for herself anyway.

(Icarus just feels more guilty because, again, if he didn’t ask her to start a team with him in the first place, she might not have even been found out.)

The game’s plot goes as usual, the duo goes through Lapis Cave, then Mt. Blaze and Frosty Forest, and neither of them are really handling the fugitives thing well. Sky’s conflicted, she doesn’t want to think that she could be the cause of all this, but since she doesn’t remember what she was like before becoming a pokemon she just doesn’t know what to think anymore. Gardevoir not sharing/being able to share anything doesn’t help with her growing anxiety. She considers turning back multiple times, because if it’s true then she’s just running away from the consequences of her actions again.

Icarus pushes her to keep going, because he doesn’t think she’s the human in the legend and because, even if she was, she hadn’t done anything wrong now. That, and if he were to just throw her under the bus after having gotten her involved in all of this from the get go he wouldn’t be able to live with himself.

Of course, they end up learning that Sky wasn’t the human in the legend, and once it registers that all of this was just an elaborate ploy by Gengar, Sky is pissed. She’s also lowkey angry with most of Pokemon Square for what they did (though she can at least understand why), and generally after all of this she keeps her distance. Save for a few others the only one she really feels she can trust is her partner, Icarus.

Despite her anger, though, she still isn’t giving up on leading the rescue team. If anything she feels even more compelled to continue with it, because even though everyone apparently believes her, she still thinks that some of them have doubts. And as Gengar has shown, it only takes a little bit of doubt to manipulate so many people, so she’d rather not take her chances.

She gets into a habit of overworking herself, and while doing so she tries to hide her own insecurities and issues so that no one worries- or suspects and looks down on her. Even when her team helps with stopping Groudon and saving Team ACT and Blastoise/Octillery/Golem, she doesn’t really feel secure with most of the other pokemon at the square- and immediately being told that she has to somehow convince yet another legendary to listen to her, with the added bonus of the world being at risk? That’s just more pressure.

And all this leads to the final dungeon, Sky Tower. She’s stressed, she’s afraid, she’s tired(Gengar had already started messing with her sleep before getting interrupted by Gardevoir, though even then she wasn’t getting a lot of sleep that night to begin with), and she’s in far from the best state of mind to be trying to do this, but they don’t have time to wait or consider other options, because meteors don’t wait.

The dungeon itself? Hell, 34 floors of pure hell, Icarus is doing slightly better in the long run, but as a whole they really aren’t equipped to try to negotiate with- or potentially fight- the legendary at the very top. They get there and try to explain to Rayquaza what’s happening but, of course, it doesn’t listen, and they have to fight. Sky fares much worse than Icarus, but they manage to hold Rayquaza off until it has no choice but to notice the flaming ball of doom falling towards the planet.

At this point it pretty much goes the same way as it does in the game, Rayquaza destroys the meteor, and Sky and Icarus are caught in the aftermath due to being so close. Icarus somehow manages to make it back to the Hill of the Ancients, but Sky… is nowhere to be found.

#god this is nearly 1000 words long. nearly 1000 words of a rambling summary #i've had bad end au on the backburner for A While now #with pmd1 specifically i wanted to use it as an opportunity to flesh out the hero/partner a bit #bc pmd1 has the early installment weirdness that is 'the story's solid but the main characters are pretty flat' #so my line of thought was 'well. the partner bails on you pretty quickly so. what if there's a reason for that' #and it just grew from there #rah speaks #Anonymous #kinda couldn't go too in depth with icarus cause that'd technically be spoilers for skittyanswers #so yEAH it's... mostly sky centric but like that's how it be

[nelvana]

In which the god of the sky is fought

First: In which the human is transformed Next: In which they visit the spirit realm Previous: In which the tower of the sky is explored

    Keahi hummed softly to herself, sitting back against one of the walls in the safe room and watching the clouds move slowly across the room. She glanced down at Nelvana, who was laying on her back on the soft flooring and staring up at the clouded ceiling. Even with the skull blocking most of her facial features, Keahi could tell that the cubone had a lot on her mind by the way her hands moved anxiously, picking at her short fur, and by the way her brows were furrowed. Keahi let out a sigh; there was a lot on her mind too, and it was hard not to think of everything that awaited them.

    “Hey,” Keahi murmured, smiling softly down at her partner.

    Nelvana blinked, the torchic’s voice pulling her focus back, “oh, hey,” she replied softly, “what’s up?”

    “Nothing much…” Keahi sighed, glancing around at the others, lounging around and chatting together as well, before looking back at Nelvana. “Just… thinking. We all are though, aren’t we? It’s quiet here after all.”

    Nelvana sat up, looking around as well before nodding in agreement, “yeah. It’s still nice to enjoy quiet moments like these though, even if they do make you think too much.”

    Alex sat by the statue, across from Nelvana and Keahi, his posture relaxed and his gaze calm. His attention was drawn to Ceebee and Edgar, who seemed to be getting along well. Tsuki was with that pair as well, and while she didn’t appear to be speaking much, as usual, she was cheerfully hanging around them; following them as they flew around the room.

    “You’re right, this is really nice. To just be together and relax for a moment,” Keahi agreed, “even if we are in the middle of the most important and dangerous mission yet!” she laughed.

    “Mm, yeah,” Nelvana giggled, pulling her knees up to her chest and resting her head on them. “…” Her smile fell, and her eyes darkened slightly. “We should keep going though. We’ve been here for awhile.”

    Keahi hesitated, “you sure…?”

    “Yeah… yeah, we should get going again,” Nelvana responded, stiffly standing up.

    “Okay.” Keahi stood up as well. “And, Nel? If you’re feeling stressed about this, you know you can talk to me about it. It’s okay to feel stressed, I am too.”

    Nelvana blinked, “…okay. Thanks, Keahi,” she said, “I guess I am pretty stressed, about all of this. It’s all just a big complicated mess and I don’t want to fail this and I don’t… I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to leave you,” she mumbled, wrapping her arms around herself.

    Keahi leaned over, bumping her head gently against her partner’s side, “…I don’t want you to leave either… but there isn’t that much we can do right now, is there? We just have to keep going.”

    “I know,” Nelvana murmured, “and I know you know… it’s hard.”

    Keahi hummed in agreement, letting her head rest against Nelvana comfortingly. It was another minute of silence together before they actually gathered up the others to keep going up the tower.

    “Alright, so I’ve never been up to these floors before, so we’re on our own now. Well, I’ll admit that I haven’t actually been on many of the earlier floors, but I at least had an idea of what they were like,” Edgar announced as they continued onto the next floor. “On the bright side, none of the others down there have been up here either, so they should be less aggressive up here since, y’know… they haven’t heard about us coming yet…”

    “That’s good to know. Thank you for telling us that, Edgar,” Ceebee replied, flying up smoothly beside him. “I suppose we’ll have to go back to the mental map idea now.”

    “The pokemon up here will be stronger though, correct?” Tsuki questioned.

    “Eh… yeah, they will be,” Edgar admitted, looking towards the floor with disappointment. “But I’m going to keep going with you all, if that’s alright. This is definitely out of my range now, but I want to help. And not just because the others down there don’t really like me anymore,” he continued, looking back up with more confidence. “And you guys are strong! I have faith that you’ll be able to get through this!”

    Keahi beamed up at him, “thanks Edgar! We will! And we’re glad that you’re still sticking around.”

    “Even if you aren’t being our guide anymore,” Alex added with a friendly chuckle; he seemed to have warmed up more to the duskull’s presence in their time in the tower.

    “The more assistance in the mission is probably for the better,” Tsuki hummed.

    Nelvana simply smiled, watching this interaction silently with a full heart as the sextet walked through the corridors of clouds together.

    It took no time at all for them to be attacked, ending their cheerful banter before it really began. Despite the pokemon not being angered by Edgar joining up with Team Galaxy, the habitants were still guarding this tower for Rayquaza. Edgar’s warning about them being stronger was correct though; pokemon such as flygon, salamence, and metagross reigned up here on these floors, and they knew that anyone to have made it up here would have to be both strong and smart, prompting them to attack the group swiftly and without hesitation. These pokemon weren’t much for talking either, none of them even bothered asking what a duskull was doing so far out of their territory; they just fought like the mindless dungeon pokemon they were pretending to be. At the very least, none of these foes seemed to get the idea to start a monster house, which the sextet would be forever thankful for.

    With more flying and dragon-types around, Tsuki was forced to use up some of her ice beam energy she had reserved for in the battle against Rayquaza; which didn’t please her that much, knowing she’d have to ingest an elixir later to make up for it. Nelvana assured her that using elixirs would be better than needing to use other healing supplies, as it would imply that they’d be injured.

    “Avoiding getting hurt will be one of the biggest priorities in this fight. Rayquaza will be much faster and stronger than anything we have faced so, so we’ll have to be faster and stronger than them. Getting hurt will not only slow us down, but there’s a chance no one will be close enough to check up on you, which puts you in even more risk. Use as many elixirs as you’ll need to keep our opponents from harming us.”

    Without any sort of lead to where to go or really where they had been again, progress slowed slightly as it had in the early floors of this place. But like before, they made due by leading with pokemon with good memories and sense of direction, and using Ceebee’s psychic abilities and Tsuki’s tracking abilities to keep an eye on where they had already been.

    The odd weather patterns persisted up here, continuing from their annoying habits from the earlier floors of the dungeon. Sun shone brightly on the second floor after the special floor, warming everyone back up from the chilly wind that snuck through the clouded walls every once and awhile. Hail pelted down on the fourth floor, forcing everyone to rush around in a blind hurry for the stairs to avoid being harmed by the oversized chunks of ice. Then, it rained on the sixth floor, something they hadn’t seen since the seventh floor, where they had met Edgar.

    However, this rain wasn’t pouring down on them like the last time. It was calmer and more peaceful, only raining for the bare minimum needed to give the typing effects for water and fire. Gently dripping out from the clouds and down onto the group. Keahi shivered regardless, fluffing out her feathers to shake away the water that was lingering on her. Alex paused, noticing the rain quickly and looking up to watch it for a moment and letting it drip into his face. It gave off a relaxed feel, and Nelvana did the same thing, though for less time than the grovyle. Despite enjoying the calmer weather on this floor, they did not linger long, especially since not everyone was enjoying the other effects of the rain.

    “We should be almost there now, just a couple more floors to go!” Edgar assured them as they arrived to the next, drier, floor.

    “That is good news,” Tsuki sighed, “these du- pokemon are pretty strong. It will be nice to get to the bigger battle without being weakened more,” she added, shaking herself back and forth to be rid of the water in her fur.

    “Do you think there’ll be a spot where we can catch our breaths before fighting Rayquaza?” Keahi asked, pausing in place for a moment, falling behind slightly during this pause as the rest of the group was continuing forward.

    “Hm… I’m not sure, sorry,” Edgar responded, floating back to Keahi to speak to her more easily. “I’ve never been all the way up there before, or even gotten a good look from down below. Is that sort of thing normal so dungeons?”

    “Eh… not always,” Nelvana replied, glancing back at the others as she took the lead, shaking her hand back and forth in a so-so motion. “There was a spot in Magma Cavern, and technically a bit of a spot in Mt. Blaze. But not at Mt. Freeze.”

    “Are those other dungeons with legendaries living in them? I know Magma Cavern has Groudon, but I’ve never heard of Mt. Blaze or Mt. Freeze before,” Edgar questioned.

    “Mhmm, Blaze ‘n Freeze had Moltres and Articuno,” Alex answered courtly.

    “Ah, then I guess it all depends on what Rayquaza thinks is typical for a dungeon, so they may mimic it as well as possible!” Edgar exclaimed, “if Groudon did it, they might as well, since they’re part of that trio! Then again, this is a tower, and has less space for that in general…”

    “I’m sure we’ll figure something out when we get there,” Ceebee hummed, fluttering ahead of the rest of the group. “Oh, salamence up ahead, get ready everyone!” she warned.

    Completing these next two floors came faster than they would have expected, and soon they found the stairs that would lead to the end. There was a pause, hesitation hanging in the air for a minute, and then Nelvana stepped forward, and soon they were heading up the last set of stairs to this tower. These stairs held much more steps than any others they had had to climb up, or down, in dungeons. They curled up in a wide spiral, adding to the distance of this trek.

    But after a few minutes of tension filled climbing, they had finally arrived to the top of the tower, and quickly had their questions of what it was like up here answered. As the top of Sky Tower, nothing hung above them as a ceiling anymore; there was only more open sky. Clouds still swirled around them though; some appearing to be more solid than others, but none of them looked to be strong enough to be actual walls, and just some clouds swept up here for the moment.

    It was silent up here.

    “Where’s Rayquaza?” Keahi whispered, glancing at each of her teammates.

    “They might be hiding, or sleeping,” Edgar suggested, the unease evident in his voice at the empty floor.

    “They might have heard we were coming, and is looking to surprise attack us,” Alex hissed, “we should be careful. Let’s quickly prepare while we still can, and then get looking… Ceebee, if you want to try sensing them, that would be great.”

    Ceebee nodded, “got it! They’re pretty big, so shouldn’t be hard to miss… I’ll just keep an eye on them then, and warn you all if they come near,” she replied.

    Everyone agreed to this plan, and hurriedly began using up what they needed, out of what was left in their bag. They had packed well… for four pokemon. The two new arrivals had put a dent in what they had, limiting what was available to them.

    “Okay, I found them,” Ceebee announced, “they don’t seem to have noticed we made it up here yet, but they’re definitely ready to fight.”

    “Why?” Keahi questioned, “do they really just want to fight us? Why can’t they understand that we really just want to talk?”

    “Legendaries tend to jump to conclusions quickly,” Tsuki answered, “plus, we have reason to assume Rayquaza has only recently woken up, and isn’t thinking clearly. They must just see us as trespassers that need to be eliminated right now.”

    “Yes, that seems to be it,” Ceebee agreed, “oh wait… they’ve definitely realized now. We should pack up and spread out before they get here!” she exclaimed before flying up into the sky, ready for battle.

    Alex hastily swept the supplies they had set down back into the bag, and hurried out a bit more into the open. He stayed relatively close to the edges, evidently planning to use the shadows coming off of the limited walls to his use. Nelvana gave a nod to her teammates before hurrying after him. She didn’t go as far as he did though, and stayed more in the open. They had discussed as a team how it might be challenging for her to land strong hits against such a foe, as she lacked any ranged attacks aside from bonemerang, so she had decided that at the very least she could help Edgar with distracting Rayquaza. Edgar himself didn’t go too far out in the open, hiding within some of the scattered clouds. Tsuki didn’t trot out too far either, ready to adapt to the fight and chase down her opponent. Keahi scampered out into the open as well, just about across from where Nelvana was standing.

    Only mere seconds after Keahi stopped running, clouds burst aside to make way for the large legendary bursting through the flooring and twisting up into the sky. Rayquaza peered down at the group, their yellow eyes matched the ringed markings trailing down their long, green, serpentine body. They flexed their clawed hands, scoping out who their first target would be out of the group, lips curling up into a toothy snarl. Opening their mouth, they let out a piercing shriek, the hyper noise affecting Nelvana and Tsuki, who Rayquaza was facing, the most.

    Edgar peeked out of his hiding place, ghostly fireballs dancing harmlessly along his grey robes. He shot them, six in total, at Rayquaza while they were distracted in starting the fight. Four of these six blues orbs of flame landed along the long serpentine, searing deep into their scales. Rayquaza let out a shrill shriek, twisting around to face the direction of the attack; but the duskull had already wisely hidden away in the shadows again.

    ~*Close your eyes everyone!*~ Ceebee commanded to her group through telepathy.

    Team Galaxy obliged swiftly, and upon seeing this Ceebee generated fairy magic around her hands, glowing in anticipation. She clapped her hands together, creating a blinding flash of light. Rayquaza could be heard letting out a roar of pain at this dazzling gleam; but then they recovered, diving up towards the celebi, dark energy growing around their jaws. The legendary’s speed was astounding; they shot out at her, their body still twisting out through the cloud flooring they had come out of. Ceebee yelped, trying to fly out of the way, but she was much too slow compared to Rayquaza. Just before they closed their mouth around her, she disappeared, Rayquaza’s crunch closing on thin air. Ceebee reappeared, tumbling onto the clouds below, panting and gasping for breath.

    Tsuki snarled, leaping forward and opening her maw. She barely charged her attack before launching it, an ice beam aimed directly at Rayquaza’s head. Their yellow eyes snapped to attention just in time, and they twisted out of the way of their greatest weakness.

    Rayquaza glared down at the absol, but changed their mind about attacking right away, and instead flew up into the sky, a red mist circling around them as they danced into the air.

    “Dragon dance! Their physical attacks will be stronger now!” Ceebee warned, shakily fluttering back off her feet again.

    As if in response to this, Rayquaza dove back into battle again, the red mist dissipating into the wind and being replaced by a light green one as their speed dramatically picked up. Their body crashed into the tower, spinning their tail around to knock Tsuki over with. The absol nearly fell off the edge, but caught herself by digging her large claws into the edge and hastily dragging herself back up before she would have a chance to lose her grip or get hit again.

    Now that Rayquaza on even levelling with everyone else and not flying about, Keahi, Nelvana, and Alex rushed in to attack as well. Keahi zoomed in with a quick attack, throwing her small body against the legendary’s scaly hide, and then blasted a flamethrower in up close, using the knockback from her move to push her a safer distance away. Electricity crackled from Alex’s left fist, which he punched into Rayquaza’s side twice before leaping back out of the way as well. Nelvana sprinted up to the legendary, headbutting them with all the force she could muster.

    However, when Rayquaza began flying back up into the air again, Nelvana made the split-second decision to leap onto their back, clinging there as the flying pokemon shot back into the sky. They didn’t seem to have noticed the cubone hanging off of them, but it was only a matter of time.

    ~*What are you doing?*~ Ceebee worriedly asked Nelvana, limited the telepathic connection to just the two of them for the moment.

    *I’m getting a better striking point! They’re too fast for me to hit otherwise,* Nelvana thought in response.

    ~*…be careful.*~

    While Nelvana was getting a solid grip on the back of the serpentine, Ceebee flew in to attack again, in hopes of distracting Rayquaza for the duration of this reckless plan. She created a see-through image of herself, twisting it into a silver orb like Team Galaxy had seen Groudon do in their battle from the day before.

    Rayquaza looked at the sphere, and let out a throaty laugh; almost taunting her move. They then created their own copy, Nelvana shuddering as it passed by her fingertips, one much larger than the other image had been, and even bigger than themself. Its horns were longer and curled back into blades, and long streams floating behind it. There wasn’t much time to study this though, as it too spun into a silver orb and was launched at the similar attack.

    Ceebee’s eyes widened in horror, but she sent her attack forward as well, in hopes that they would cancel each other out. The two spheric attacks grinded off of each other like two stones might when spun against one another, and then the smaller one was swallowed up by the larger attack, continuing the rest of its path at the celebi. The impact forced a yelp out of the mythical, sending her flying back into some clouds a few meters back. She quickly collected herself, wincing as she slowly flew back into the air. A light green energy field appeared around her, only disappearing as her wounds were healed up again.

    “Clearly, you’re stronger than anything I can throw at you…” she muttered, “but try this one on for size; I condemn you to the force of the future!” she snapped.

    Ceebee’s eyes shone brightly, her antennae standing straight up as she pointed a finger directly at Rayquaza. But nothing happened. Eyes returning to normal, the small pokemon disappeared from sight again, satisfied with her work.

    Tsuki growled, charging ice in her maw before blasting it at the perplexed legendary. Ice coated up the long, scaled body. Rayquaza stiffened, letting out a sharp hiss of pain and trying to shake the ice away by twisting their body around. Eventually, the freeze snapped, shards falling down into the clouded floor below.

    Electricity crackled at Alex’s fist again, but he wasn’t in the right position to attack with this move again, and was forced to bide his time. Keahi waited as well, but more out of fear of accidentally hitting Nelvana.

    Nelvana, deciding that she had a good enough balance at this point, slowly lifted up her right hand, which was also carrying her club. She knew that even in this position, a ground-type move like her bone club wouldn’t do much damage. For a moment, she considered using the jagged end instead to stab into Rayquaza’s scales. After all, not only would it do more damage, but it would give her another spot to grab on to… Her mind reeled at the thought, and images of the sableye she had stabbed flashed from her memory. She swallowed weakly, she didn’t want to do that. Instead, she placed the club in her mouth so she could have her hands free, lowering her right hand back down to help with her grip. Leaning her head back, she suddenly headbutted forward, putting as much force into the hit as she could manage, before doing it again.

    Rayquaza roared, their eyes turning red and their body suddenly glowing with a similarly colored energy. They shot into the sky, only to dive through the ground moments later. Their body thrashed about as they repeated this process, diving in and out of the clouds, blindly trying to hit someone. Team Galaxy scrambled to get out of the way; their only warnings of where the legendary would appear next being the sudden telepathic warnings from Ceebee as she kept tabs on things. Nelvana was forced to press closer from the force of the mere speeds that Rayquaza was going at, despite not wanting to, as the outraged energy pulsed painfully through her. She wanted to headbutt them again, to deal some damage back, but it was a struggle to even just lift her head past the wind.

    “Keahi, Tsuki, hit them when they’re diving into the ground!” Alex yelled, “you have an opening when they’re half under us! Just make sure not to hit Nel!”

    Tsuki obliged immediately, letting out another ice beam, which coated all the way down Rayquaza’s side as they dove through the clouded floor. Keahi hesitated, but joined in on the other side of Rayquaza, shooting a flamethrower at them as they passed by.

    Rayquaza twisted out from the flooring again, but the energy had faded, leaving them rocking back in forth, their eyes unable to focus. Edgar took this opportunity, reappearing from the shadows to swiftly sneak in and strike before hiding away again. Nelvana saw this chance as well, only taking a moment to catch her breath before beginning to headbutt Rayquaza again. This finally got them to notice the cubone clinging on though, and they curled their head back to make eye contact with her with a toothy grin. Nelvana froze, staring down the legendary, who’s head slowly tilted back and forth uneasily. She sat up, putting the club back in her hands before grinning back at them.

    “Hey there,” she greeted slyly, before swinging the blunt end of her club at Rayquaza’s left eye.

    The attack missed the target, Rayquaza snapping his head away in just barely enough time to have the bone hit just the side of their face instead. Nelvana wasn’t sticking around to try again, and risk getting hit herself, so she immediately leapt away from the raging serpentine, landing safely back onto the clouds.

    Energy pulsed off of Rayquaza as they roared again. They began charging light energy at their mouth, releasing it in a beam which they aimed all across the terrain by twisting their head back and forth. Not expecting such a wild attack, it blazed through Keahi, who let out a shriek of pain before hurrying out of the way with the aide of her quick attack.

    Tsuki leapt ahead again, taking the dragon pulse damage herself in favor of a good attacking position. She shot another ice beam at Rayquaza again, this time freezing the winged rudders at the legendary’s sides as well.

    Alex zoomed around the various attacks, making use of the thunder punch he had been charging up, and jumping up to strike it against Rayquaza’s hide. The legendary writhed in the air, cutting off the attack they had been using themself, as the charged-up electricity coursed through their long body for at least a full five seconds before finally ceasing. Satisfied with these results, Alex swiftly scurried out of the way of whatever Rayquaza would choose for their next attack.

    Yellow eyes snapped to attention with new clarity, no long confused from their earlier outrage. Edgar appeared again, shooting his own beamed attack from his eye, which only ruined this new clarity and sending Rayquaza into a state of blurred confusion again. They roared in anger to be stuck in this state again, whirling around in hopes of spotting the ever evasive duskull, with no luck.

    Regardless, Rayquaza wasn’t going to pause in their attacks just because their status was impairing them. Clawing the ice away from their rudders, they flew up into the air again, sharping twisting their body to create blades of air, which were shot down at the group below. Nelvana dove to get out of the way, but one of these blades slashed at her side, spurting warm blood to begin trickling out. She winced, but kept moving, edging her way towards Alex for an oran berry at the least. Luckily, the grovyle did manage to dodge this move, and quickly passed the cubone the blue fruit before speeding away again.

    Seeing that the last patch of ice she had coated Rayquaza with was now gone, Tsuki positioned herself to attack again. She shot up another ice beam, but the serpentine twisted out of the way before diving down at the absol with extreme speed and their mouth open wide to crush her in their jaws. Tsuki’s eyes widened, and she closed them, turning away and bracing herself for the pain.

    But it never came. Opening her eyes again, Tsuki saw Rayquaza suspended only a few feet above her, frozen in place with psychic energy.

    “I can’t hold them for long! Get out of the way!” Ceebee commanded, her arms outstretched in front of her as she struggled to hold the much larger pokemon still with her abilities.

    Tsuki didn’t need to be asked twice. After recovering from the shock of this close call, she hurried out of the way, hiding herself in the clouds to catch her breath before returning into the fray. Rayquaza was released only moments afterwards, continuing their dive through the clouds; Keahi blasted a flamethrower at them as they passed by.

    Rayquaza snarled as they returned, clarity returning once more to their eyes and displeasure on their face. Edgar came out of his hiding place again for another confuse ray, but Rayquaza had predicted this, already charging up another dragon pulse to hit the duskull with. Edgar let out a squeak of terror at the size of the attack aimed at him, freezing in place out of fear, but this attack never hit either. Rayquaza was suddenly struck with a powerful energy, sending them crumpled to the floor, convulsing as the psychic power pained them. Their eyes stared straight ahead in a horrifying mixture of horror and pain.

    “W-What’s happening to them?” Keahi questioned worriedly, looking around at her teammates.

    Ceebee let out a sigh, slowly floating down to join where the others were beginning to gather around the pained legendary, “future sight. Remember when I condemned them earlier in this fight…?” she answered reluctantly.

    “Future sight…? Yeah, I remember you using that. It’s affecting them now though?” Keahi responded.

    “Yes, it has a delay.” Ceebee nodded. “I don’t like using that move, but it’s the most powerful psychic move I know. It forces the target to be pained by everyone in the near future.”

    “That would be nearly everyone, with the meteor supposed to fall!” Tsuki gasped.

    “Yes…” Ceebee looked away, almost ashamed. “That’s why I didn’t start this battle by setting up that move. But then I realized… we would need something like that to help guarantee victory.”

    “Well, as… scary of a move as that is, I’m glad you used it. It works well,” Edgar murmured.

    “It helps that we weakened them beforehand, but yes, it does server its job well,” Alex added, “how’s everyone holding up?”

    “I think nearly everyone has been hit at least once… but I think we’re all fine,” Nelvana replied.

    Conversation was cut short as Rayquaza blinked, the attack’s power fading and releasing the legendary from its hold. They began to rise back up, glaring down at the group.

    “W-Wait! Rayquaza! We need to talk to you!” Keahi blurted out, “please stop fighting!”

    Rayquaza snarled, “you come into my territory, and interrupt my-“

    “Oh, shut it!” Alex snapped from irritation, “this is really important! There is a meteor coming that will impact this planet, and we need you to break it, or else it will destroy everything!”

    “A meteor? In my skies?” Rayquaza gasped, “how dare you suggest such a thing! Nothing passes from my sight! I am the guardian of the skies, I’ll have you know,” they hissed.

    “You were in a post-awakened rage before though,” Tsuki pointed out, the fur along her spine bristling. “Look up now and tell us there is no danger!”

    Rayquaza turned to look at Tsuki, their gaze softened at the sight of the absol. After a moment, they looked up into the clear blue sky, managing to either spot or sense the meteor high up in the distance now. They looked back down at the group, the tension leaving their features as everything came together.

    “You… I believe I was mistaken, I apologize for that,” Rayquaza finally uttered, “you six have come a long way to see me for my help, and I just attacked blindly. That was a poor choice on my part,” they continued, “I can destroy the meteor, but first, I need these burns gone. They hinder my power.”

    “Alright,” Ceebee agreed, “I can handle that, just one moment…”

    Ceebee lifted up her hands and closed her eyes. Waves of blue-green energy pulsed from her body, making a ringing noise like that of a gentle bell. When these waves made contact with the angry burns dotted along Rayquaza’s scales, the marks faded and healed. She opened her eyes again, offering the legendary a friendly smile.

    “How about that?” Ceebee asked.

    Rayquaza let out a sigh of relief, “yes, that helps, thank you. Now I can do this,” they replied, “but…”

    “But what?” Nelvana prompted.

    “But, you six could be harmed. You should leave this tower first,” Rayquaza finished.

    “There isn’t time for that! The longer we stand around waiting, the closer it gets and the more damage it will cause, whether it hits or you break it!” Alex insisted.

    “Perhaps you are right,” Rayquaza muttered, “you all are willing to risk that, to make that sacrifice then?”

    “Of course,” Keahi told them firmly.

    “Very well,” Rayquaza sighed, “may those down below remember your story.”

    Rayquaza opened their mouth again wide, beginning to charge an orange orb in their maw. The sphere pulsated with energy, only growing in size and power as they continued to charge it, pushing their jaws open wider than one would have thought was possible. Soon, this orb was larger than Rayquaza’s head, at maximum power. Rayquaza suddenly flew into the skies again, releasing the energy in a red-orange beam, which shot straight up into the heavens.

    Everyone watched at it continued to be fired way up, up into the sky. Finally, there was the satisfying sound of an explosion, and the sight of the meteor being destroyed in the distance. Rayquaza’s hyper beam stopped its charge, and they slowly closed their mouth again. The world seemed to shake around them, not unlike the earthquakes that had been troubled with until Groudon had been defeated. They could see pieces of the meteor burning away in the sky.

    And then, there was nothing.

First: In which the human is transformed Next: In which they visit the spirit realm Previous: In which the tower of the sky is explored

#galaxies above #pokemon #pokemon mystery dungeon #pmd #drawing #art #my art #digital art #writing #my writing #fanfiction #team galaxy #nelvana #cubone #human #keahi #torchic #alex #grovyle #tsuki #absol #ceebee #celebi #shiny celebi #edgar #duskull #rayquaza

[daughter-of-the-prophet]

Flemeth (Tv Tropes "Origins")

Affably Evil: In keeping with her being Ambiguously Evil, she's always immensely polite, gives good advice, would rather compromise than fight, and saves the lives of the protagonists in the first and second story. Of course, according to Morrigan she's forced her daughter to watch her rape and murder men, gains her immortality by stealing the bodies of her daughters, and her plan in the first story all along was to get Morrigan impregnated with the soul of an Old God. Still, for all that, she acts like someone's batty grandmother.

Age Without Youth: In her myths, she was the World's Most Beautiful Woman. When Ilona meets her, she's an old hag. Morrigan claims Flemeth takes over her daughters' bodies to regain her youth.

Ambiguously Evil: There are plenty of stories about Flemeth doing evil things, but you never actually see her commit any truly atrocious acts. Morrigan, for instance, claims Flemeth is a body snatcher, but Morrigan is also a liar as manipulative as her mother.

Ambiguously Human: So mysterious and powerful that some state disbelief that she's even a person at all but rather something...else. Inquisition reveals she's the Elven goddess Mythal merged with a human woman.

Body Surf: Morrigan claims Flemeth raises daughters and teaches them magic so that she can easily possess them.

Captain Ersatz: Shares many elements with Baba Yaga, as an Ambiguously Evil centuries old decrepit witch who lives in a hut deep in the forest and most consider nothing but a legend with which to frighten children. Much like Baba Yaga, some of the stories about Flemeth involve kidnapping and eating children as well; Flemeth herself rolls her eyes at that notion. "As if I had nothing better to do!"

The Chooser of The One: She comes after Duncan, but she's the only reason Ilona and Alistair survive Ostagar. She repeats this with Areida Hawke in the next story.

Cryptic Conversation: She talks in nothing but hints and riddles, and will generally tell Ilona to come to her own conclusions instead of asking her to give them to her.

Death by Sex: Morrigan claims that this is one of her favourite pastimes, luring Chasind men to her bed only to kill them afterwards.

Demonic Possession: Some of her legends claim she's a centuries old mage possessed by a demon. Most people who meet her agree she's something even scarier than an Abomination though.

The Dreaded: Fereldan mothers frighten their children by telling them Flemeth will come to get them if they don't behave, and even adults are uneasy at the mention of of the legendary "Witch of the Wilds".

Enemy Mine/Evil Versus Evil: Subverted. She suggests that this is the reason she rescued the Wardens from Ostagar and is sending Morrigan with them, but as it turns out, she has other reasons.

Even Evil Has Standards: One of her legends involves a nobleman buying Flemeth from the witch's destitute husband on Flemeth's suggestion. But when the nobleman has her former husband killed instead, Flemeth slaughters the nobleman and his entire estate. In Morrigan's version, Flemeth did it because she refused to be married to a man with no honor. Interestingly, the castle the nobleman ruled was Highever, and the chain of events she set off led to Sarim Cousland's ascension to Bann, and the eventual creation of the Teyrnir of Highever. (This is particularly interesting with Ilona being the youngest child of the Cousland family, since it suggests that Flemeth set events in motion centuries ago which led to Ilona being the one to save the world.)

Evil Laugh: A brief but spooky one, when she seems little more than a Talkative Loon.

          Flemeth: "Oh, don't mind me. You have what you came for."

The Fair Folk: The Dalish Elves see her as a legendary and dangerous spirit of untold power, Asha'bellanar.

Familial Body Snatcher: The true source of Flemth's immortality.

Grand Theft Me: Morrigan claims the secret to Flemeth's immortality is that she keeps transferring her spirit into new bodies (specifically, those of her daughters).

Hand Wave: No explanation is ever offered for why she rescues Alistair and Ilona from the Tower of Ishal. Once the truth about the dark ritual is revealed, it does make more sense; however, while her rescue of Alistair is understandable with regards to the ritual, it's never explained why she would trouble herself to rescue Ilona. On the other hand, this may have been a simple case of foresight; we know from The Darkspawn Chronicles that alone, Alistair would have failed utterly.

Hidden Agenda Villain: She has some sort of questionable plan involving the Old Gods, dragons, and more. However, the goal or even the specifics of this plan are left entirely unknown through the first two stories.

Humanoid Abomination: In Witch Hunt, Morrigan states that Flemeth may look human, but she's something far worse than a demon, blood mage, or abomination. In Dragon Age II, Anders is somewhat unnerved that Justice doesn't know what she is either. Dragon Age: Inquisition reveals that she is apparently the Elven goddess Mythal possessing a human woman.

Hyper Awareness: Seems to be at least somewhat aware of Ilona Cousland and Areida Hawke’s coming destinies just by having a look at them. The first time Ilona meets her she offhandedly bemoans that Ser Jory is unlikely to survive, but it is not her place to choose.

I Have Many Names: Fereldans call her "The Witch of the Wilds". The Dalish elves, meanwhile, call her "Asha'bellanar" (the Woman of Many Years). Even "Flemeth" is just the Chasinds name for her.

      Alistair: “What do we call you? You never told us your name.“

      Flemeth: “Names are pretty, but useless. The Chasind call me Flemeth; I suppose it will do.”

I Was Quite a Looker: Though rather elderly looking when Ilona meets her, Flemeth's stories claim she was legendarily beautiful and attracted suitors from all over the world.

Meaningful Name: The Dalish refer to her as Asha'bellanar, the "Woman of Many Years," hinting at her power and apparent immortality.

Mrs. Robinson: Given her immense age, this is technically in effect with any man she supposedly lures to her bed before killing them.

Multiple-Choice Past: There are multiple separate accounts of her origins, ranging from a powerful demon possessing female apostates through the ages, to a beautiful mage who became an Abomination to take revenge on the man who killed her husband, to some sort of shadowy fallen god.

Never Mess with Granny: She may seem like an unassuming, dotty old woman, but she can also turn into a dragon and rip your head off.

No Need for Names: Discussed.

      Flemeth: “Names are pretty, but useless. The Chasind folk call me Flemeth. I suppose it'll do.”

Noodle Incident: Flemeth did something horrible to the Templars over the ages who tried to hunt her, though the specifics are never revealed. 

Older Than They Look: Certainly, she looks old, but not as old as she actually is.

One-Winged Angel: Turns into a giant purple dragon in battle.

The Plan: Morrigan was sent with Alistair and Ilona in Origins in order to forward Flemeth's unknown plan involving resurrecting an Old God in a human body.

Progressively Prettier: Her witch form in Dragon Age II, while still aged, is far better looking than the liver-spotted old hag she appears as in Origins.

Really 700 Years Old: Lampshaded by the Dalish, whose name for her translates as "the Woman of Many Years."

Retired Monster: Despite the horrific acts she is said to have committed in her legends, these days she just quietly lives in a hut deep in the woods. It eventually turns out she's just biding her time while her daughters act out different elements of her unknown plan.

Scaled Up: In battle, she transforms into a dragon.

Shapeshifter Default Form: In the second story, she half-jokingly points out that for all Hawke knows, the dragon could actually be her real form and it's the witch that is merely the illusion.

Shrouded in Myth: Her history has been told so many times as a legend that no one knows what the truth is - except for Morrigan, who heard it firsthand from her mother and believes that Flemeth's own version is the true one.

So Beautiful, It's a Curse: In her backstory, her legendary beauty and men's desire for her dictated the course of her entire life. While she has a Multiple-Choice Past, every version of her tale agrees that she was beautiful and that such beauty brought her no joy in life.

Solitary Sorceress: Flemeth initially appears to be just an elderly "apostate" mage hiding out in the wilderness from the Chantry's enforcers when you first meet her.

Tyke Bomb: Morrigan is the latest of many daughters she's raised to terrorize the Korcari Wilds. And provide her with a new body for when her current one gets too old.

Unreliable Narrator: Her legend has undergone Adaptation Decay over the centuries. While Morrigan tells Ilona what Flemeth claims is her true past, she notes that it is unwise to take anything that Flemeth says at face value, though she believes her story is the most accurate. In Witch Hunt, Morrigan says that Flemeth isn't a human, a blood mage, or an abomination. How long she hasn't been human, or if she ever was, is unknown.

Voluntary Shapeshifting

Wham Line: Alistair reacts this way when she reveals her identity.

            Alistair: (stunned) “The Flemeth? From the legends?”

Wicked Witch: The Chasind seem to think so. She's old, wrinkled, lives in a cottage in the middle of nowhere, cackles, and is rumored to be widowed and a stealer of children. ("As if I had nothing better to do!")

#dragon age #dragon age: origins #flemeth #the witch of the wilds #tv tropes

[toonpunk-game]

Fluff Updates 3: Some characters

And finally for today, a few default setting NPCs for use by bored GMs. 

High Noon

Accent:  Hardened cowboy

Likes: Poems,  ballads, whiskey, big hats

Prop: Cigar, revolver,  journal/sketchbook

Dislikes: Society,  civility, cities, government

Demeanor: Sullen,  bitter, fits of manic energy

Hobby: Whittling,  Guitar, Card games

Vocabulary: Folksy  anarchist revolutionary

During the late 30s to mid 50s, one of the most popular adventure magazines in the comics industry was Wild West Adventures—a bi-weekly anthology devoted to Westerns of all varieties.  The series featured several recurring characters based on existing folk tales, such as Daniel Boone or Paul Bunion; as well as new characters like Running Bull the Indian Brave, “Black” Jack Jackson the abolitionist, the enigmatic sorceress Billie Fish, and the mystical gunfighter, High Noon. Originally conceived as “the spirit of the wild west”, High Noon appeared in supernatural stories, frequently opposing notorious outlaws such as Black Bart, Jesse James, or John Wesley Hardin. While WWA was originally published by American Comics Co., the company’s bankruptcy in 1938 lead to their acquisition by the New England Press, which would become AC Comics just one year later.  After this, WWA was re-launched as a monthly series.  

In the 1940s, High Noon’s popularity with the GIs fighting in Europe lead to the book abandoning its anthology roots, and instead began focusing entirely on the serial adventures of High Noon and “the Longcoats”, a vigilante gang consisting of Running bull, Billie Fish, and several other characters.  During this period, he often faced horror characters like vampires, werewolves, or Satanists; and simultaneously, his own supernatural abilities were downplayed in favor of more traditional gunfighting adventure material. By the time the war ended, though, superhero comics had begun to come into their own; and the introduction of the Comics Code Authority in 1954 made High Noon’s adventures entirely unsuitable for publication.  WWA was unceremoniously cancelled 2 months after the CCA was installed; and High Noon would remain out of print for 30 years.  

In 1987, fledgling writer Morris Allen produced The Dreamers, the legendary Eisner-winning graphic novel.  In The Dreamers, High Noon received his first print appearance since the CCA’s founding, this time as an antagonistic figure. During the events of the comic, High Noon is shown to be immortal due to his status as a “spirit of the West”; however, he has grown disillusioned with America after serving in the Vietnam War, and carries out a string of elaborate bank robberies and assassinations to further a radical anarchist agenda.  Ultimately, he is shot to death by his former companion—the superhero Captain Hope—following the assassination of Richard Nixon.  His homepage comes from here, a scant few panels before his death.  

High Noon was one of the first people to contextualize The Rabbit’s crime spree as a philosophical statement.  He was also the first person to emulate it successfully, to the point that historians often remark him as the first “proper” toonpunk; even though he has never identified as such, and has actually expressed his distaste for the term at least once. Since I-day, High Noon has been more or less constantly active as a criminal element, with the average rest period between crimes being between three and nine months. The sole exception to this was a 20-year period during which he vanished entirely from the public eye; to date, he has never commented on this.

Usually, High Noon works with The New Longcoats: a group of similarly-motivated and similarly-skilled meat and inkmen, several of whom were originally parodies of or homages to him. These include High Moon the talking cow; Witching Hour, a horror-themed tongue-in-cheek send-up from Visage Comics’ Old Souls series; Chester Lillibridge, the psychotic antagonist from Darkness Over Deadwood; and the Illegitimate Lovechild of Calamity Jane and A Bear, who is usually just called “Lovely Jane”.  The group is notorious for their politically-motivated crimes; rather than simply smash and grab, their crimes are often flashy and showboaty affairs, punctuated with the inclusion of pre-recorded messages or the on-site production of particularly outlandish graffiti.  Most of these are meant to bring across a message—examples so far include “the fundamental immorality of late-stage capitalism”, “the self-defeating nature of society and law”, and “rock’s not dead”. Because of their ideological slant, they are often considered terrorists more than mere criminals.

Noon is an active fixer, planner, and perpetrator who works all around the world.  In addition to the Longcoat gang, he frequently works with other gangs on a case-by-case basis—most commonly, he makes his services available to people with whom he shares ideological ground; and has been known to support or arrange multiple operations in a month, with several gangs at a time. Most commonly, he gravitates towards people who target governmental or megacorporate interests—which means that all you anarchists out there might just find a friend in him.

Alexxi ‘The Abattoir’ Penderghast

Alexxi is the most annoying kind of cop: a crazy one. The saying goes that Iron Man is the one you don’t want working your case, but Abattoir is the one you don’t even wanna meet. It is, to put it simply, a miracle that she is still employed: during her 220-year long career she has bounced around like a ping-pong ball between different cities, organizations, and planets: she’s worked on Earth, second Earth, Mars, Iarn, and the Chinese Ring—and she’s always left a long trail of bodies. With over 340 justified killings in the line of duty, 147 brutality complaints, and 134 miscellaneous internal affairs investigations, she has an underworld-spanning reputation as the dirtiest cop to never get caught…and worst of all, she does it just because she likes the work.

Penderghast began her life as the lead character in Delta Borealis, a promotional tie-in comic for an obscure line of novelty miniatures. As a “wyrd hunter”, she was responsible for hunting the distant corners of space for the servants of the Outer Gods—but in true antihero fashion, had forged a pact with each of those outer gods in order to use their own power against them. More shockingly still, despite affecting the air of a femme fatale, she was actually biologically male. In 1991, when DB was published, such a thing was more or less unheard of in the comics industry—and this move was daring enough to earn DB a small but devoted following. Either way, Alexxi’s characterization was simple enough to fit on a postcard: she does not like bad guys, but she does like performing gut-wrenching acts of violence upon them.

The comic also incorporated the excessive sex and gore which would come to be characteristic of poorly-made 90s comic books—but it so often appeared to be self-aware that contemporary critics were undecided on whether the comic was a work of clever parody or a truly brain-dead show of excess. Famously, Alexxi had highlight quotes from two different reviews of DB#3 tattooed on her shoulder blades: on her left, “a truly genius work of deconstruction, highlighting the absurdities and inherent folly of its source material” (att. Harold Green); and on her right, “a frankly appalling celebration of adolescent sexual repression, implying grotesquely stunted growth in both reader and writer” (att. Andrew Black).

Alexxi first incarnated in the Cork Inkish Incident, where she rapidly earned the gratitude of the Irish government by serving with the Thunderers. In the days after Bloody March, she continued to serve alongside the Irish Army—only leaving the country in 2048, after lasting peace was declared. As a courtesy, she—along with the other Thunderers—received an Irish/EU citizenship and an honorary BA in criminal justice from the UCC. Thus armed, she embarked upon a globetrotting tour of duty across Europe, Asia, and Africa…and a pattern soon emerged. When picking a new job, Penderghast didn’t seek out higher pay or greater prestige…she went specifically for high-crime low-income areas with underdeveloped government infrastructure. To put it simply, she went wherever she was going to be able to beat up a lot of people; and her track record meant she was more or less a shoo-in for any posting she wanted.

In 2298 she found her way to Saskatoon, on the tail end of two decades’ tour in Cob Country. She introduced herself in a suitably graphic way: her first ever beat walk ended with an octuple-arrest over a brawl in Lilliput, during which she reportedly “descended on the crowd like a bat out of hell”—breaking 2 peoples’ arms and concussing 4 others. She became a talking point among the locals after an incident in which she interrupted a rape in progress: the Saskatoon Tribune reported that she “disemboweled the perpetrator with her bare hands”; but an internal affairs investigation ultimately revealed that this was highly sensationalized: all of the perpetrator’s organs were still technically inside his body.

Outside of the field, Alexxi is known to be personable, polite, high-spirited, and ultimately a rather pleasant person. She is, however, distinctly unwilling to talk about her personal life before or after her homepage. Fate has afforded her a fair deal of privacy: due to a copyright dispute over the text of DB, it was cancelled after issue 3. The inventory of the last 2 issues was largely destroyed before publication, and only survived in extremely limited quantities. For now, only she knows what motivates her bloodlust…and you ought to be more concerned with avoiding her than with finding out what drives her.

Accent:  Boarding School Received Pronunciation

Likes: Tea,  stage magic, her 3rd ex, fashion

Prop: Various  icons of nondenominational faith

Dislikes: Her  first 2 exes, Welshmen, criminals

Demeanor: Posh,  bubbly, outgoing

Hobby: Miniature  soldier collecting/painting

Vocabulary: floral  and colorful, many idioms

Criminal  Record: Numerous IA investigations

 Commissioner Walker Stone

Accent: Deep  Southern Gentry

Likes: 1980s  Arena Rock, his dog Skipper

Prop:  Comically outdated service revolver

Dislikes: High  society, weak-willed persons

Demeanor: Suspicious,  intimidating, intense

Hobby: amateur  war historian

Vocabulary: Folksy,  modestly well-educated

Favorite TV  Detective: Joe Friday

 If Mayor Levitt is a hand stabbing at the throat of our industry, Walker Stone is the knife he’s using to do it. He is a driven, charismatic, and capable man: under his leadership, the SPD has reached record-high recruitment and conviction rates, with record low civilian casualties. His crowning achievement is undoubtedly the wholesale disassembly of the Gambino crime empire; though his ongoing prosecution of the Rasputins may one day supplant it. Perhaps most important of all is his incredible devotion to duty: despite being successfully assassinated 3 separate times, Stone has served an unbroken tenure as commissioner for the last 36 years. In fact, he aced the Bendis-Bagley Continuity Test all 3 times—making him the only certified static personality to hold public office in the city of Saskatoon.

Not everything about him is smiles and sunshine, however. Stone rose to office amidst controversy about his origins and character—controversy which persists to this day, and puts him under near-constant scrutiny: on his homepage Stone was a villain, and a particular nasty one at that. In Kings of America, Walker Stone was a corrupt county sheriff whose actions were often amoral or even cruel. In the series, the county police force is overstretched and underfunded, with violent crime spiraling out of control. Over time, Walker comes to believe that the limited order imposed by the area’s crime cartels was better than the lack of order presented by the civil government; and so allows several organized crime groups to reach prominence.

In the climactic act of the story, Ariel Levitt—the main character—discovers that Walker is secretly the King of Land, and has the power to telekinetically manipulate stone and rock. The two briefly engage in a super-powered duel, before the more experienced Stone overpowers and kills Levitt by impaling him through the heart with a spear of solid rock. In the series finale, Stone falsely eulogizes Levitt as a victim of gang violence, and uses his death to rally the people of Levitt’s hometown in support of increased police funding.  In the closing monologue of issue #6, Stone remarks that “the real tragedy is that the world will always need more dead dreamers.”

Many people were understandably nervous at the prospect of this man being put in charge of the police force. However, despite being the antagonist of the picture, Walker Stone was never portrayed as villainous—only as pragmatic and impersonal, almost to the point of inhumanity. Prior to I-day, the efficacy of his system raised frequent debate among fans of the series about whether he was truly a villain or merely an anti-hero.

After I-day, he leveraged his reputation to his advantage during several civilian careers as a lecturer, security consultant, and talk show panelist—all of which were cut short by his deaths. His fourth incarnation briefly entertained returning to the talk show circuit, before ultimately partnering with Ariel Levitt during Levitt’s mayoral bid.  During the campaign, he repeatedly stressed that his actions in Kings of America were the result of extreme duress; and the size of the Saskatoon PD would allow him to work fully within the confines of the law. As a show of good faith, he regularly submits to and cooperates with the RMBI; and his approach to internal misconduct is notoriously strict—often relying on punitive measures that far exceed other cities’.

As a person, Stone is known to be stern and pensive. He prefers to listen rather than speak, and he does not like to waste words. Despite being known as a pragmatist and a tight ship-runner, those subordinates of his who remain faithful to the law say that he is understanding and reasonable, if not necessarily kind. The phrase “firm but fair” is often applied to him—though a number of less charitable things are said by those who find his single-minded devotion to the law tiresome or inconvenient. Either way, he has done a fine job of getting results—he did more than his fair share to bring Saskatoon’s Onyx age to a screeching halt, and shows no sign of stopping.

 Papa Malorn

Accent:  Big-city Midwest Canadian

Likes:  Whiskey, darts, decent people

Prop: Cigar,  his robot hand

Dislikes: Wealthy  people, cowards, Germans

Demeanor:  Street tough, occasional kindness

Hobby: Antique film buff

Vocabulary: Meticulously  articulate

Thomas Malorn, heir to the Malorn Shipping company, was born to respectable means. Beatrice and Thomas Sr. were, respectively, the majority shareholder and CEO; and under their leadership it had grown to be a major name in rail and air freight across North America. Thomas enjoyed a privileged childhood, wanting for nothing; but this abruptly ended on his fifteenth birthday, when the three of them were caught in a car bombing (which is now widely believed to have been an assassination attempt by Hackerschmidt Shipping). Thomas’s parents were killed in the blast, while he himself was badly burnt and paralyzed from the waist down.

As the son of a wealthy couple, Thomas was admitted to high-grade urgent care at Saint Josephine’s of Saskatoon, where he was outfitted with a set of quality-of-life augmentations which restored his ambulatory function and much of his appearance. He soon learned, however, that his parents had willed their entire fortune to rival shipping magnate William Hackerschmidt, which left Thomas penniless. Hackerschmidt confessed to the murders some 20 years later, but died in prison while awaiting trial.

Thomas spent the next few years moving through a series of temporary labor jobs, where he often put his augments to good use. When he was 19, he was sentenced to 10 years in prison for home invasion, though he was released after only 5. From then up to his 30s, he was arrested and fined over a dozen more times on charges of public brawling. During this time he began associating with Francis Flanagan, Alex Grimaldi, and Jimmy the Corpse. The four of them would come to be known as the Malorn gang, and soon came under suspicion for all manner of crimes.

Fast forward 20 years. Thomas “Papa” Malorn is known around town for many things: his generous donations to the churches and universities of Saskatoon; his work with the city ink asylum and poorhouses; and for being the leader of a wickedly successful crime family. Like any good mobster, the accusations against him are so far insufficient for conviction; but he has been questioned in connection with over 200 counts of racketeering, arson, battery, and murder. Among the night life of Saskatoon he is known for being kind to his allies and merciless to his enemies; and many crime analysts have named him the heir apparent to organized crime in Saskatoon after the dissolution of the Gambino crime family in 2303.

So far, he has been content to keep his business to the waterfront districts. He is even known to tolerate the presence of Toonpunks in his territory, so long as they respect his properties and protectorates. He has survived thus far by keeping his head low, and cooperating with the police to a point…but there are rumors in the shadows of a full-fledged gang war on the horizon; and those who know Malorn expect him to be prepared, and ready to bring his rivals down in flames…

#cyberpunk writing #crime fiction

[favficarchives]

Tutor (One-shot)

Pairing: Steve Roger x Reader Summary: Steve has a lot to catch up on after 70 years of beauty sleep, and Y/N in all of her history-nerd glory is just the woman for the job. Genre: Fluff Warnings: None. Well, someone says ‘fuck’ I think, but this is the internet. I’m sure all of us have seen a lot worse. Word count: 3,751

[Masterlist]

A/N: Oh hey, look, an actual Steve Rogers x Reader fic and not something that totally isn’t Steve Rogers x Reader but is still tagged as Steve Rogers x Reader because some people just wanna watch the world burn, I guess. No, I’m not bitter at all.

The door shut with a sharp bang as Maria Hill situated herself in the black SVU.

“Well,” she said to the man sitting next to her, “that was a spectacular failure.”

“On the contrary Agent Hill,” Fury replied, “the goal was to find out what kind of man the legendary ‘Captain America’ really is. Now, we’ve got an idea.”

Maria shot Fury a disbelieving look. They just messed with the mind of America’s most iconic war hero. A man out of World War II just ran head first into a modern-day Time Square after fighting to escape his “captors,” which turned out to be agents of an American intelligence agency. Fury’s little game may have very well fucked Captain Rogers even more than the situation itself would, and Fury considers it a victory because they got to see how he reacts under stress?

She may not have agreed with his tactics, but Fury was her boss and Maria was no idiot. She kept her comments to herself. Instead, she asked, “So what’s our next move?”

“Take him to the Retreat,” Fury stated simply. “The man’s just had the shock of his life, and New York City isn’t exactly a place that encourages relaxation.”

“He’ll need to get into society eventually,” Hill countered.

“Eventually,” Fury stressed. “But right now, he needs time process everything that’s happened.”

“Are you going to bring him in on Phase Two?”

Fury considered her question carefully, replaying the argument he’s had with himself on a daily basis since the captain showed signs of life. Phase Two may be a necessity of modern warfare, but it was based on Hydra technology. He wasn’t sure the captain would be ready to accept something like that just yet.

“Eventually,” he answered. “Before that, though, he’s gotta catch up on 70 years of domestic shifts, foreign affairs, scientific progress, and social evolution.”

Maria sighed deeply. “That’s gonna take some time.”

Fury smirked in response. “Don’t worry Hill, I’ve got a plan.”

“Does this one involve a storage container and armed guards?”

“Nope,” Fury said with a proud smirk. “A tutor.”

Steven Rogers walked down what remained of Amsterdam Avenue, taking in the sight of Manhattan in ruin.

To be fair, Stark and the Department of Damage Control were doing a more-than-adequate job of cleaning up after the chaos of the attack; but the evidence of a hard-fought battle remained. While it was horrifying to see a city, his city (even if it wasn’t his borough) in such a state, he found some morbid comfort in it. The giant television screens that lit up Times Square, the franchised shops down every block, the overabundance of cars was all so foreign to him. War, and its remains, was familiar.

After the battle was over and the team – however mismatched it was – took time to recuperate, Fury “suggested” that Steve meet with someone to help him transition into modern life.

Fury already contacted the person in mind, a Y/N L/N, and arranged a meeting at a café on Amsterdam and 82nd. Steve wasn’t sure about the whole situation, but he begrudgingly admitted that it was probably for the best. As much as he missed his life, his friends, and the world he knew, he had to accept that this was his life now, this was his world. And the first step to accomplishing that was to probably get acclimated with everything he missed.

Steve laid eyes on the café and inhaled deeply.

‘No time like the present,’ he thought, swallowing down the bitter aftertaste of accepting this time as his “present” and not some distant future. He’s seen men get vaporized in an instant, watched a man peel away his own face to reveal the truth beneath it, and just saw a worm hole rip the sky open and unleash unimaginable hellfire on an unsuspecting world.

Still, some things, like waking up 70 years in the future, are harder to accept than others.

He approached the café – most of the windows were boarded over with “Open for business” spray painted on the plywood – and pushed open the brand-new door.

A few customers were scattered around the inside, seated at tables, the counter, and some cushioned chairs in the corner. Steve looked around for the bright red bag that he was told would identify his new “tutor”.

He found it tucked beneath one of the high-tops along the back wall. A good choice, he thought. Secluded, but not so much that he couldn’t find it.

Sitting at the table was a woman, gently sipping on her drink while looking over a notepad in front of her. She absentmindedly clicked the top of her pen while she read over whatever was on the pad. Her focus would be admirable if it weren’t so intimidating. Steve was a 26-year-old war veteran who just fought off an alien invasion. He really didn’t feel like going back to school.

Still, he swallowed his pride and started towards the woman, reminding himself that she was just doing her job. She was just trying to help. He shouldn’t take out his frustrations on her.

“Excuse, Miss L/N?”

You jumped slightly, turning to face him with wide eyes. Your lips curled into a pleasant smile as you recognized your new student.

“Mr. Rogers!” You greeted enthusiastically, climbing out of your chair and holding out a hand for him to shake. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. And please, call me Y/N. There’s no way this is going to be that formal.”

Steve took your hand and chuckled in relief. Right now, the one thing he needed more than anything else was a friend. And even if you weren’t that, you were a hell of a lot friendlier than most people he’s met so far.

“In that case,” he said, “please call me Steve.”

You smiled wider. “Can do, Steve. Please, sit down. Do you want anything to eat or drink? SHIELD’s paying.”

“No, no, I’m alright,” he told you with his own smile as he took the seat across from you. “So, what’s our first move?”

“Our first move,” you answered, picking up your pen and adjusting your notepad, “is to determine our baseline. You went into the ice in the mid-40s, yes?”

“That is correct.”

You scribbled that down in the margins of the page.

“Okay, so what we’ll want to do is start this whole thing a little bit before that, since I’m assume you were a smidge too busy to pay attention to anything that wasn’t immediately affecting your squadron.”

Steve chuckled sheepishly.

“That’s a safe assumption,” he said, a blush rising over his cheeks as he cast his gaze downward. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to stay up-to-date on the world beyond the battle field… it’s just that taking down Hydra bases tended to absorb all of one’s attention.

You smiled softly at his embarrassment and pressed on with your explanation.

“I’m thinking our best course of action is to go by decade,” you said, your speech getting a little quicker as you got more focused on your mission. “I was debating between that and going by topic – you know, American history, international relations, geopolitics, etc. – but all that stuff is so intertwined and important to one another that there’s no way to really talk about a single topic without at least referencing two or three other topics, so I think going chronologically is best.”

Steve, a little overwhelmed by your enthusiasm, simply nodded in agreement.

“Sure, yeah,” he said, dumbfounded and still trying to process all of the words that came out of your mouth in such quick succession. “I mean, you’re the boss.”

You beamed at him.

“Perfect!” You exclaimed. “I’ve been sketching out some rough lesson plans that match that course.”

“Am I gonna have homework?”

You burst out laughing at the dread in his voice. You couldn’t blame him, though. Homework is awful.

“Yes, a little,” you told him. “But nothing like busywork. I don’t have the patience to type up 12 worksheets a week. It’ll be stuff like ‘watch this documentary,’ or ‘listen to these songs,’ or ‘read this book’. Stuff to actually help you learn, not to test your memorization skills.”

Steve smiled lightly at that and nodded. While he didn’t grow up with a lot of homework, the depression forced educators to change their habits as classes got too big to manage. Most of the half-baked assignments Steve turned in were incomplete and covered in doodles. And he really didn’t want to disappoint Y/N by doodling all over a worksheet she’d give him.

“Okay, good,” you said with a bright smile. “While this café is good neutral ground, I’d prefer to meet in a more controlled environment from now on. My apartment is on 73rd, so just a few blocks away from here. They’re repairing the balcony and one of the external walls right now, but we can meet there if you’d like.”

Steve considered offering his place, which had survived the attack unscathed, but decided against it. It was technically a SHIELD safehouse, and you didn’t seem like a SHIELD operative, so he wasn’t sure if you were allowed there. Regardless of that, he wanted to see what normal apartments were like nowadays. He’d only seen SHIELD locations and Stark Tower, and he wasn’t sure those were good parameters to determine an “average” from.

“We can meet at your place,” he answered.

“Good!” you said, writing down your address, cell number, and email in the corner of the notepad before tearing it off and giving it to him. “I’ll need some time to compile everything for our first official session, so let’s meet again at this time in two days at my place.”

Steve nodded, examining the piece of paper and slipping it into his wallet. “Sounds like a plan. It was nice to meet you, Mis- Y/N.”

You smiled at him. “Nice to meet you, too, Steve. Call or email me if you need anything between now and our next meeting.”

“Will do,” he said, awkwardly waving the wallet that held your phone number. “I, uh… I guess I’ll get going now.”

You chuckled. “Have a nice day, Steve.”

“You too, Y/N.”

Two days later, you pattered around your apartment as your scheduled meeting time quickly approached. You’d been so focused on getting the lesson plan ready that you completely forgot to get your apartment ready. While you were never one to put on a show for people, you didn’t really like the idea of Steve Rogers, Mr. Captain America himself, thinking you lived like a slob.

You folded a throw blanket and tossed it on the back of your couch, picking up an old plate from the coffee table while you were at it. As you put the plate and utensils in the dishwasher, you grabbed the pile of mail from the countertop and stashed it in your desk drawer. While you were there, you tidied up the top of the desk, dropping scattered pens in the ‘I

You were just setting up everything for the lesson when your buzzer rang.

You darted across the room to the door in an instant, slamming your hand onto the call button.

“Yes?” You asked into the mic.

“It’s Steve,” a distort voice greeted over the com.

‘Okay,’ you thought, ‘Game time. Be cool.’

“Come on up,” you replied, pressing the button to unlock the front an ignoring the fact that your voice was a few octaves higher than normal.

You undid the chain lock from your own door and opened it slightly as a wordless invitation into your home.

You went back to arrange your set-up for the lesson, popping a documentary of WWII into the DVD player and scrolling through the menu screen. While it may be redundant to someone who lived through the war and even fought in it, you thought it’d be good for him to know what history remembers of the war, how and why it was fought, and ultimately, how it ended.

By the time you heard Steve lightly knocking on your doorframe to announce his presence, you were all set and ready to go.

“Hi Steve,” you greeted from the loveseat next the couch. “Come on in. How’s your day been?”

You watched him inhale deeply as he closed the door behind, anxiety clear in his stiff back and shoulder. When he turned around, the worry-lines on his face confirmed your suspicions. His nerves were getting the better of him. You weren’t sure if he was nervous about your meeting (as he seemed to be the first time) or if he was suffering from PTSD or if the stress of his new life was getting better of him. You also weren’t sure if it was your place to ask or not.

“It’s been good,” he lied. “How’s your’s?”

“Good,” you responded, letting the lie slide. “Why don’t take a seat on the couch? Do you want anything to eat or drink? We’re gonna be here awhile.”

Steve looked around your relatively small apartment (though it was admittedly huge by New York let’s-call-this-closet-an-apartment standards) and laid eyes on your kitchen – or really kitchenette. You had a quaint home. It actually reminded him a bit of the apartment he grew up. While that was too small for a family, your’s was just the right size for a single person.

Steve briefly found himself wondering how the apartment would fair with two people living in it, but he quickly shut that thought process down. Now was not the time to develop a crush.

“Steve?” you asked, pulling him back into reality.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” he stuttered. “I can just… get a glass of water… or something…”

“Sit down,” you ordered playfully. “I’ll get it.”

As you went to fetch the two of you some water (and a bowl of chips, because you knew he was going to get hungry at some point), Steve made himself comfortable on the couch and examined the things you had laid on the coffee table.

Two notepads – one for you and one for him, it seemed – a couple of packets of paper seemingly printed out from a computer, a laptop, and a few movie cases. By the looks of things, you were just as organized as he thought you’d be. It’s probably why Fury chose you, a civilian, instead of an agent.

You came back from the kitchenette and set the drinks and bowl of chips on the table, hopping into the seat perpendicular to it and grabbing your notepad.

“So,” you began, “let’s get started.”

Three weeks later, your lesson plan was securely in the 1960s and Steve was securely insecure.

“How the hell am I supposed to remember all of this?” He asked, his impatience with himself and the situation leaking over into his voice. “And you said we’re just hitting the big stuff. I can’t… how am I supposed to catch up on 70 fucking years?”

You leaned back in your chair and studied him closely. You could understand his frustration, and you wished there was an easier way. But some things just took time and dedication, as annoying as it is.

“Well, I mean, you don’t have to remember all of it.” You told him. “Nobody remembers all of it –“

“You do.”

You scoffed lightly. “No, I don’t. I remember a lot, but not everything. And with smartphones, I don’t have to remember everything. A world of knowledge is in my pocket at any moment.

“Besides,” you continued, “I’m not normal. I love this stuff, so of course I know more than most people. But even people who lived through it or who studied it for years in school don’t remember most of this. This is just to catch you up, not to make you an expert on modern history.”

Steve nodded sullenly, pouting as he flipped through another one of your packets.

“So what things do people usually remember?” He asked. “What stands out the most?”

You took the packet from his hands and grabbed your pen. You went through the packet and circled the biggest of the big stuff, like John F. Kennedy’s rise and assassination, the continuation of the Vietnam War and the Cold War, and the entire year of 1968. Among all of that and so much more, what stood out the most? What’s one of the first things people think of when they think of the 1960s?

“Okay, so most people think ‘hippies’ when they think the 60s. Flower children, Woodstock, that stuff,” you told him, thinking about the majority of pop culture references to the decade of “peace and love,” no matter how inaccurate that collective memory may be.

“And Woodstock was that giant concert, right?”

“Right,” you smiled up at him, delighted by the small smile that graced his face. “People also think about the Civil Rights Movement. Do you remember what that is?”

“African-Americans and other minorities protesting against racial discrimination and systemic oppression.”

“And who were the two biggest faces of the movement?”

Steve paused, gaze distant as he racked his mind for the answer.

“Uh…” he started, “there’s a lot of individual letters involved.”

You chuckled at his response.

“MLK and Malcom X,” you told him. “There was also W.E.B. Du Bois, but he’s not one of the most recognizable names. So between MLK and X, which was which?”

“MLK was Martin Luther King Jr. and he vouched for the peaceful approach,” Steve summarized. “Malcom X leaned more towards fighting fire with fire.”

“Well,” you smiled, leaning back in your chair, “by my estimate, you seem to be on par with most of America.”

While that sentiment didn’t say much about America as a whole, your heart soared as your watched Steve’s sad puppy eyes fill with pride. You leaned closer to him and patted his knee in what you hoped was a comforting fashion.

“You’re doing just fine, Steve,” you told him softly. “I know I’m gonna sound like almost as big of a nerd as I am, but history is fun if you have the right teacher. Just sit back and enjoy the ride.”

Steve smiled up at you, affection written across his face. “Won’t be hard with a teacher as great as you.”

Four weeks later and you and Steve were closing out your dive into the 1990s, with all of the tie-dye, denim, and sex scandals Steve could handle.

“We’ll finish talking about Y2K, which was a trip, and start on the oughts in our next meeting,” you said as you cleaned up the coffee table. “9/11 will probably take up most of the day.”

“I’ve already looked into 9/11,” Steve told you as he carried your empty snack plates to the kitchenette and turned on the sink. “People were saying that the Chitarui invasion was ‘the worst thing to happen to New York since 9/11’ and I wanted to know what they were talking about.”

“Good,” you said, walking over the breakfast bar and climbing onto one of the bar stools. “That means we can focus more on the after effects with invasions of Iraq and Afghanistan.”

“What’s after that?” he asked, eyes focused intently on the plate that he has been washing for longing the necessary. He was nervous again. You couldn’t fathom why. In the months that you’d known each other, you two had gotten pretty close. Steve even admitted that you were one of the few true friends he felt like he had right now, so you knew he’d tell you if something was bothering him. Or at least you hoped he would.

“The housing bubble and Great Recession,” you told him, cautiously eyeing the plate he was so focused on. “The worst global economy since the depression.”

He looked up at you in shock. “I thought that happened in the 70s?”

“Oh, it did,” you said. “Then the housing bubble came and blew the oil shortage out of the water.”

“Well,” he began with a sly smirk, “oil and water never do mix.”

You looked at him flatly, doing your best the suppress the giggle that wanted to erupt. The longer you held eye contact with him and his shit-eating grin, though, the weaker your resolve became. Before you knew it, the two of you were a laughing mess on the apartment floor. Every time you were calming down, you’d catch a glimpse of each other from around the cabinet and start cackling all over again.

“Oh, that was so bad,” you groaned when the giggles finally stopped and your abs started to burn. “That was so. bad. Steven.”

“You’re just mad you didn’t think of it first,” he countered indignantly, sending you into a new fit of laughter.

“Oh yeah,” you said, “that’s it. I’m envious of your puns.”

Steve chuckled softly, rising from his place on the floor and walking over to where you lay. As he looked at you – face flushed from laughing, tears streaming down your cheeks, and smile so wide it had to hurt – he knew he couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Will you go out with me?”

Shit. That was a little blunter than he intended.

“Go out with you?” you questioned through a giggle. “Like ‘let’s go get something to eat’ or like ‘will you be my girlfriend’?”

Steve smiled sheepishly, tucking his hands in his pockets and shrugging his shoulders. “Both? If you want…”

You smiled and got up off the floor, taking Steve’s hand when he offered his assistance. Looking into his scared and hopeful eyes, any reservation you may have had about straining your relationship died on the spot. Steve was one of the sweetest, funniest, smartest, and most well-mannered guys you had ever met. And you’d be lying if you told yourself you weren’t looking forward to your tutor session a little more than you probably should.

“Let’s see how dinner goes first,” you suggested with a smile, grabbing your purse off the countertop. “Then we’ll talk about the other thing.”

Steve chuckled quietly, head hung in shame at his complete lack of skill with women. He could hear the Commandos laughing in the back of his head. They all picked up women with such ease, and he could barely manage to ask one dame – one great, terrific dame – out on a date. Somewhere in the mix, he heard the Avengers, too, though they were faint.

“Come on Steve,” you called to him. “No better way to get acclimated with the world than to go out into it.”

He smiled at you.

“You’re the boss.”

A/N: Yay, a Steve x Reader fic! I’m glad that’s out of my head so it can stop haunting my every waking moment.

I have no sequel planned for this, but if you want other Steve x Reader fics, let me know or drop a request in the notes or my inbox! Check out my prompt list tag for ideas if you want!

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #fic #fanfic #mcu reader insert

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Flood my Mornings: The Battle of the Gamete

Notes from Mod Bonnie:

This story takes place in an AU in which Jamie travels through the stones two years after Culloden and finds Claire and his child in 1950 Boston.

See all past installments via Bonnie’s Master List

Previous installment:  All Fat (Jamie and Claire finally tell Bree about the baby) 

February, 1951

“Alright, now, Dr. Fraser…” Jamie prompted, poking her with his big toe as he read from the next card. “Tell me, what is the….‘Law of Segregation?’”

“Posits that allele pairs segregate randomly from each other during the production of gametes—allele pairs separate during gamete production and thus the sperm or egg carries just the one allele for each inherited trait— and when sperm and egg come together at fertilization—each contributes an allele, restoring the paired condition in any offspring.” 

Finishing her slew of learn’ed gibberish in a triumphant rush, Claire bobbed her head once—quite like a musician that’s just hit the final note to their satisfaction— and looked over at him expectantly from her end of the sofa. 

He studied the card and nodded sagely. “Aye, that’s verra good— Looks as though you’ve got that one down as well.”

 She raised her eyebrows. 

“Aye, WELL,” he grinned, “that is to say, ye spoke a good number of words and verra confidently, forbye.”

 “Lazy oaf,” she mock-scolded, snatching back the card to look over it herself. “A word or two off, but pretty damn close.”

 “See? Confident.” And that’s verra impressive, lass.” He took the card back and re-read the definition silently to himself, shaking his head. “When ye explain the concepts to me, they make some sort of sense, but trying to read your books myself, the words seem as inscrutable as ancient Egyptian scripts.”

“They did finally translate those, you know,” she said absently as she flipped through her notes. “The Egyptian hieroglyphs.” 

“Truly? How?” He grinned. "Did someone travel through your wee stones to get it sorted out?" He abruptly stopped grinning as he reflected that this was not, after all, so very outlandish a proposition.

“A stone of a different sort helped crack the code," she explained, though her mouth was quirked up at the irony. "Uncle Lamb took me to see the Rosetta Stone at the British Museum, once, when I was young. Not much to look at for a seven-year-old, to be honest, but it opened up entire fields of study of ancient civilizations and their languages. Worth seeing in one’s lifetime, certainly.”

“That’s a wonder, and no mistake,” Jamie said, feeling truly awed that mankind since his own time had not only expanded the limits of new innovation, but had plumbed the mysteries of the ancient past as well; not to mention the deepest working of the invisible realms of blood and bone, exploring places smaller than any eye could see or imagine. 

And in the many times these last weeks when he’d helped her with her studying, he’d often thought that perhaps the folk of Cranesmuir, the folk of Paris, even, hadn’t been so very wrong in naming his wife a witch, for she prophesied, and no mistake. For if the Laws that she’d recited and so patiently tried to explain to him were to be taken as fact, she knew for fact that the child within her could never have brown, grey, or green eyes. 

He pictured it like a great, pounding battlefield, the body of the wee babe—the Traits the warriors, armed and ready to make their stand for eternal glory. The Browns—they were the most vicious of the clans, the most ruthless and unyielding. Their steel was sure, and nearly always their opponents were vanquished by their mighty blows, or so cowed before the Donn brutes that they fled in terror before swords were raised.... 

And yet a courageous Gold and an unlikely Blue had defied the odds in the two battles before, each leading their clans through the fray in an almighty charge against the foe, and managed to raise their colors, to rout the Dominant forces. Thus triumphant, those legendary victors would not let their territory be ceded. Only one of *their* colors would fly over that hallowed field, and over their alliance. Only *future* marriages with Browns or half-Browns might see a change of banner in their descendants. 

....but the Gold and the Blue were assured of their place in the songs. They would be remembered. 

He hoped it wasn’t painful for the babe, to have such turmoil taking place in the deciding all the details of its formation. He scooted closer to Claire, close enough to cup the child in it’s sleeping-place. Dinna fash, wee one, he thought, all things will be well, soon. 

One of Claire’s new terms flashed through his mind, and he decided to try it out, glad of the chance to test his bare scraps of understanding. “So, the ‘gamete’ is…like what you’d call our wee bairn, at present, aye?”

“Close—gamete is before the sperm—seed, I mean—and egg come together. Once they do, it’s called a zygote,” she said, rattling off the progression on her fingers, “but just at present, he or she is technically called a foetus; or ‘fetus,’ as I’m apparently going to have to start spelling it.”

Jamie banished the absurd — not to mention disturbing—image of a wee goat with human feet prancing about in there, and only laughed ruefully. “It’s a good thing it’s you becoming the physician, Sassenach. If it depended upon me to learn all this, we’d be ruined.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit, Jamie.” Her face was soft with a concern that warmed his heart.  “Don’t think just because these terms are new to you, you couldn’t— ”

“Dinna fash, Sassenach,” he assured her. “I ken I’m no’ a complete fool, and that I’m fully capable of learning whatsoever I wish….Same as I’m capable of climbing up the Mountain Kill-A-Man-Giarro ye told me of. It’s only a matter of how much I want to kill THIS man,” he pointed theatrically to the top of his head, “in the trying.” 

“Forget medicine, you could have a career in comedy, if you wanted!” she hooted. He laughed along with her and pulled her feet up into his lap, gratified to hear her groan in relief as he removed her socks and began to rub. “Oh, darling, that’s wonderful — THANK you.” She let her head loll to the side against the back of the sofa. “You’ll put me right to sleep with that.”

“Well, and sleep, ye should,” he said, glancing up at the clock. “Ten o’clock and you’ve the examination in the morning.”

“Bright and early,” she confirmed through a yawn, wrapping her arm around the bairn. “But I’ve got to keep studying for at least a bit longer. I did well on the first exam, and I don’t want to get cocky and blow it.”

He raised one foot and placed a kiss on it, making her giggle. “You’re doing a magnificent job, mo chridhe—at all of it.” 

He didn’t feel as though as if he were doing much of anything, compared with what she had to manage. She’d cut back to just two days per week at the hospital to allow for more time for her studies, but even so, a job, keeping up with Harvard’s demands, advancing pregnancy, and a two-year old together added up to an astounding level of demand and responsibility. He rubbed her leg tenderly, his gaze serious. “You’ll tell me if there’s anything more I can be doing to help?”

“I promise,” she said with a sweet smile, leaning forward to kiss him.

He obliged, taking her face in his hands. He had just brought her mouth to his, when she jumped and cried out as though stabbed. “Christ, Claire, are ye —?” He reached for her face, panicked— but the expression on it, the direction of her gaze told him everything. 

He dropped the hand at once to her belly to settle between both of hers. “Is it — he’s — she’s — ?”

She nodded and pursed her lips, glowing with quiet light as she held the child, as tightly as she could. “Hello there, little love.”

 “Oh, lass...” Jamie moved quickly to kneel on the floor beside her, kissing her cheek and wrapping his arms around her. “What does it feel like?” he asked, as he leaned his head against her shoulder. The wonder in his heart, the hope— “Is it kicking?”

 “No, still early for that. It’s just the first quickening,” she said, blinking hard and smiling. “It’s a bit like — like popcorn in my belly.”

 “Like—what kind of corn?”

 “I’ll have to make you some,” she laughed. “I just mean it’s like—little bubbles popping.” She shook her head, awed, in another place, by the look in her eyes. “So she’s—he’s— really in there, then…” 

“Did ye doubt it?” 

“No,” she murmured softly, “just…it’s good to feel him…her…to feel that there’s a tiny person in there, not just some rogue germ that’s silently infected my body.”  

“Well, and it is rather like a wee germ, is it not?” he said gently, tracing wee circles on her belly. “Tiny living creature that feeds off ye, unseen?” 

She leaned her head against his, giving a soft laugh of agreement. “Well, let’s hope it grows up far more cute and capable than a germ.” They were just a warm bundle of happiness, together, voices barely more than a whisper, as though heeding Brianna’s threats against waking the babe. 

“Wi’ the way its mother is,” he said, reaching up to touch her face, “I canna honestly see how it could fail on either point.” 

“Flatterer.” 

“No’ flattery: science....The Genetics dinna lie, aye?” 

They shook together with silent laughter, but at length, simply let the quiet of the night fall over them. He’d carry her to bed, when she’d fallen asleep, and ensure she was up in plenty of time for the two of them to drive into town for her examination. His back did ache and his knees would punish him for it in the morning, to be sure; and certainly she’d wanted to study, longer.  

Just at present, though, there was nothing more important than this.

#;mod Bonnie #Flood my mornings #Many thanks to Dr. Swordsman MD for the genetics lesson

[the-dubstep-strawberry]

8, 45 and 46 for the ask 😊

8. Did they have pets as a child? Do they have pets as an adult? Do they like animals?

When Margot was growing up, the Fontaines had a pet cat named Lord Fluffkins. He was an exuberantly fluffy Persian mix with silver fur, green eyes and an intense dislike of being picked up, with or without warning - Margot’s little sister Peggy was the only one who could interrupt his progress around the family apartment without being scratched or bitten for her efforts, although he would make a variety of indignant noises to communicate his displeasure. Despite this, Lord Fluffkins was a much-loved family pet and lived out his life peacefully with Margot’s parents, eventually dying of old age.

Margot and Nate also used to own a very excitable Golden Retriever/Labrador mix named Buster, whom they adopted shortly after moving into their first apartment together. Sadly, Buster escaped from the dog park one day when he ran off to chase a squirrel and his leash snapped. To his owners’ horror, he ran across a busy road and then darted away into the city… despite chasing him for several blocks, they weren’t able to keep up and eventually lost sight of him. Although they spent months putting up “Missing” posters and calling local animal shelters and the City pound, and even returning to the dog park periodically in the hope that he might still be in the area, they were never able to find him. They were so heartbroken that they never felt able to part ways with his old dog bowl, even after they moved to their new house in Sanctuary Hills.

Buster’s old dog bowl remained in the de Havilland family home in Sanctuary Hills even after the Great War, but it eventually found a new owner in the shape of Dogmeat. Margot sometimes jokes that she didn’t adopt her beloved German Shepherd - if anything, he adopted her. She adores Dogmeat and goes to great lengths to protect him if he accompanies her on adventures, even crafting some body armor for him and giving him the unofficial designation of Paladin Dogmeat, registration DG-K9P. Danse initially disapproved of this measure - technically all Brotherhood canine operatives hold the honorary rank of Knight - but privately agreed later on that Dogmeat had earned a field promotion by virtue of being a Good Dog.

And yes, Margot adores animals. At least, the ones which aren’t trying to eat her. She might try to tame a Mole Rat if it appears to be friendly, but draws the line at attempting to pet a Yao Guai. Deathclaws and Radscorpions are a definite no-no on the “family pets” front.

45. How do other people see them? Is it similar to how they see themselves?

(Already answered here in this post - hopefully to your satisfaction!)

46. Do they make a good first impression? Does their first impression reflect them accurately? How do they introduce themselves?

Margot’s first impressions can be a bit hit or miss, and they’re mostly dependent on her current circumstances…

When Preston first saw her, she was a pale, terrified and disoriented Pre-War woman in a crumpled Vault 111 suit, still trying to catch her breath after her first encounter with Raiders in Concord. However, he was extremely impressed with how quickly she adapted to combat and her skill with operating Power Armor, and how she went to help others without hesitation in spite of her own dire circumstances. As far as he was concerned, he’d just met the perfect person to lead the Minutemen.

Piper and Hancock met her at the gates of Diamond City and Goodneighbor, respectively - on both occasions Margot was caught off guard, and came across as a confused and slightly distressed newcomer. Their first instinct was to look after her, since she was obviously a fish out of water, although their initial assumption that she couldn’t take care of herself was soon proven wrong - on the contrary, they soon found out that Margot was not only a capable fighter, but glad to help them out with their own issues in turn, even while she struggled privately with her own loss and grief.

Like Preston, Nick and Danse both met her when they were in even more trouble than she was. They were initially astonished by the impeccably made-up Pre-War woman who ran to their assistance, at the risk of her own life, and they admired her bravery even more when they found out that she was recently widowed and grieving for her lost son. Although Nick saw her at her most vulnerable - tearfully explaining the loss of her family in his office - he soon found out that she was just as brave and willing to help people as he’d thought, and that his first impression - that of a courageous and indomitable woman who refused to let her own problems slow her down - was an entirely correct one.

Danse, despite being rather taken aback by the Pre-War housewife’s unexpected combat prowess and the ferocity with which she fought Feral Ghouls (on behalf of people she’d never even met, no less), was impressed all the same and decided that he couldn’t let the opportunity to recruit a new member of the Brotherhood go to waste. He was soon very glad that he’d agreed to sponsor her as a new member of the Brotherhood of Steel. His impression - that of a selfless, brave and compassionate, if occasionally reckless, woman - was more or less on the money. He soon grew to appreciate her friendship and company, and finally fell head over heels in love with her after she risked her life to save his during the events of Blind Betrayal.

Of course, Margot didn’t win everyone over at first. For example, Cait was initially very unimpressed by the woman who walked into the Combat Zone, and complained bitterly about being dragged along to help settlements for the first few days and weeks of their travels. However, she soon found out that the woman who approached settlers so shyly to ask them to trade was also a real force to be reckoned with when it came to combat - and that the kindness and generosity Margot showed others wasn’t naivety, or some sort of act, but something genuine which was gladly extended to everyone in need, even Cait herself. Cait now readily admits that she was all wrong about Margot, and that she couldn’t ask for a better friend.

Today, Margot’s reputation precedes her. She still introduces herself a little awkwardly when she meets new people in her settlements, although people are usually so glad to see the legendary General of the Minutemen show up to help that they don’t care if she looks nervous - or, more often, don’t even notice. She rarely bothers to introduce herself to enemies, preferring not to give them the opportunity to speak at all before she launches into combat. If she does introduce herself in those situations, it’s generally as their arch-nemesis and the imminent architect of their doom (and usually while wearing the Silver Shroud costume, or a particularly intimidating suit of Power Armor). Her smarter opponents normally have the sense to go with their gut and run like hell. The stupider ones soon find out why they should have run like hell… and that their first impression of an unholy terror was terrifyingly accurate.

#Margot de Havilland #Our Bond Is Steel #OC asks #my OC #answered asks #thank you! #hope you enjoyed #wrote this while a bit sleepy #please excuse any errors

[antigenitalisticrrrriot]

DEL_F64.0 WILL PLAY ON THE PRAVEKFEST VI !!!! [Prague]

Pravěkfest VI 6. - 8. 10. 2017

The 6th annual benefit DIY festival Pravěkfest will be held from the 6th to the 8th of October 2017! Every year we get a little bit bigger, all thanks to your interest – this time 3 days and 2 stages! On the band stage, you will experience many different genres each day, but all connected with the element of extreme music, and all sharing DIY/anti-mainstream principles. Friday is dedicated to doom and black metal, Saturday belongs to hardcore, punk, crust, grind and even gore, and on Sunday we finally move to an experintmental and alternative sound. The Freetekno stage will be located parallel to the band one, and will be managed by our friends Olgoj Chorchoj Sound System and The Prostory Revival! You can enjoy all of this in the huge and atmospheric Eternia/Underdogs club, led by great people that love the music you do too! Bands/ Djs: Máma Bubo – new wave/alternative Victims of Classwar (DE) – black metal/crust Hure (DE) – harsh noise-electro-powerviolence NOLL IQ (SWE)-fastcore-powermangel Škoda 120 - grindcore/fastcore OR – noise rock Del_F64.0 (DE) - antigenitalistic clarinetspeedcore 6MAS – crust as fuck Smuteční Slavnost -black metal/shoegaze Amoclen - grindcore Drén – harsh noise Pray For Death - crust/death metal LEZOK – unorthodox black metal Menstrual Soup - grindcore Levák Bob – speed/hardcore/violence Yamabushi – new wave/alternative/industrial Bambulkyně Dobrudružstvá – chrocht'n'roll pissover Plague Called Humanity - EBM hardcore USNU? - harsh noise/rock'n'roll Memero – breakcore (DE) Lhostejnost – drone doom Ejakulující Kokos – hawai cococore/demented gore grind Mario The Shroomer – guttural beatdown punk DJane Aisling - ebm, darkwave, deathrock, post-punk... The Prostory Revival - acid experimental Kabarga – acid/electro experimental Olgoj Chorchoj Sound System – Abalkin (live i DJ), Šišoun (DJ), Bullrot (live) Decorations by Markar

After covering our costs, donations will be given to Food Not Bombs organization – the admission is voluntary, but we recommend to give 6E per day, after giving 11 E you will be given an armlet for all 3 days! Pravěk is a project of an independent DIY literary movement that helps mostly young authors with releasing their art without waiting in the line of “unsolicited” writers and without groveling in the front of commercial publishers. DIY or die! 

"Dead Bodies Shaft" stage:

Victims of Classwar

On the Friday evening the horn on Lucifer's forehead will shine brightly, with black metal and punk genres together. This might not be a matter of course for everyone, but when this connection occurs, it usually means a magnificent band – like Victims of Classwar! They play a brutal black metal indeed, with slightly crust-like drums, but in the case of their attitudes, they are punks in their hearts. And if you have seen their show at Underdogs we promoted last December, you must definitely come back!

https://victimsofclasswar.bandcamp.com/

Hure

Fuck yeah! This brutal sonic press wished to play in Prague for a long time, now they are finally coming! These two bass guitars maniacs wrapped into toilet paper, gaffer tape and into who knows else are rolling a noisy mass bordering with electronic powerviolence and harsh noise wall, which is cut by raw beats too fast to power-electronics and to shitty to techno dance. Simply unique, your head will pulse even a month after the festival!

https://hure.bandcamp.com/

Máma Bubo

The legendary new wave band from the eighties, no need to explain more! Maybe just the fact that they also feel the need to be critical to the contemporary gentrified culture and political situation, as the younger bands do. Every concert of Máma Bubo is a real celebration of the deep, unconventional not-only-music, that is not at all bitten by ravages of time. And of course you can expect something special - improvisation is these musicians’ real strongpoint!

http://bandzone.cz/mamabubo

NOLL IQ

Unbelievably nice guys from Sweden, that will make you laugh, when you see them drunk making incomprehensible Scandinavian humor, but mainly will force you to gnaw through your tongues, when they are on stage! Despite they call themselves “fuckups”, their music is remarkably technical, if you realize how fast they can play. Moreover, their first rehearsal took place on the Seth Putnam's death anniversary!

https://zeroiq.bandcamp.com/

Del_F64.0

Fucked up antigenitalistic clarinetspeedcore from hell -

two daemonic goddesses from the 696th dimension came up to terminate

the time of genitalism on earth - blood on their hands, wrath inside of their wicked large genitals

- they are warriors with the ancient powers of uhnarvhekjhbrvgabgakjhfewg

their final weapons will be heavy rhythmic velocity, electrified clarinet and the telekinetic

powers of the 4-horned psychotropical hoovergroover - get psyched

http://antigenitalisticrrrriot.tumblr.com/

https://soundcloud.com/war-doch-nur-joghurt/del_f640-bloody-chainsaw-whistle-soon-on-tape

OR

This band became almost legendary within Prague contemporary underground - take for example the concert against racism. We almost forgot when exactly that happened – but it feels like 20 years ago! Yet their music is still full of new ideas and surprises - for example their new record sounds more like an alternative rock compared to the older dynamic noise rock stuff. Make alternative great again!

https://ornoise.wordpress.com/

Škoda 120

KEYS IN AN IGNITION/CHOKE AT FULL BLAST/ UNDER THE HOOD OVER FORTY HORSE POWER/FOUR HURRIES/JUST TURN IT OVER/ ŠKODA 120!!!! / very liberal translation/ This is one of the most merciless and furious grindcore bands that have ever played on this festival, hear the songs about people killing each other by cars! Since 1996!

http://bandzone.cz/skoda120

Smuteční Slavnost

These Afa vegan baph goats steered their unorthodox BM from depressions to post-metal and shoegaze influences, their music is nowadays more and more progressive, despite it still bears its dark garb and extreme volume. Expect the atmosphere and technique of the bands like Weigedood, Harakiri for the Sky, or in fact like the most of cascadian black metal scene.

https://smutecnislavnost.bandcamp.com/

6MAS

Moravia is known as a birthplace of many really odd crust-as-fuck-ers, which ever came up from the soil! Clamorous drum firing, vocal fights, raw sound...you know what we mean! Since their last release Rape the Earth! much beer has flowed, but the owners of this LP are aware what an energetic bomb can be expected! After Škoda 120 you will have to set the other cheek for another kick!

http://bandzone.cz/6mas

Menstrual Soup

One of the hardest and most brutal contemporary Czech bands on the extreme music scene, yet, or maybe hence, it is disregarded by many subcooltural media. Moreover, Menstrual Soup is now reinforced by the second guitarist, a bass is therefore conveyed to sludge bands. Their first release- the split with Swrab and Ejakulující Kokos- is also expected on Pravěkfest! This band is in fact a matter of family, but with only one difference - the soup is not thrust into children, but the children are thrust into the soup!

http://bandzone.cz/menstrualsoup

LEZOK

Read the name of this band backwards (and put it into the google translator of course)...can you see now? And their music is even more remarkable - the roots of composition, the atmosphere and vocals are still in black metal waters, but the usual BM structure is disrupted by not only weird guitar plies. Who have never seen them yet, will be certainly surprised. Moreover they are so perfectionist that their long-awaited album is still unfinished. So the only chance for you to enjoy LEZOK is the life show!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xoQt4Uxjv4U

Amoclen

„Spell homoklín and listen grindcore with violence influences, vital as fuck....Hectolitres of sweat, the singer crawling on the ground, inhuman scream and wholehearted faithfulness to grind...“ See how faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar you can jump from the stage! :-)

http://bandzone.cz/amoclen

Usnu?

Grinding sore noise of the solitary man with his pseudo-guitar, whose heart hides a dark melancholy, maybe originating in some pervert desire to be a rockstar, or even a popstar. But for example the collaboration with UGFC - currently being prepared - will show you that under the title of “Usnu?” (shall I fall asleep?), even more sophisticated power-electronics set can be created. Anyway, on this festival he will give you almost Massona-like noise-rock'n'roll show enriched by power of Moravian vine cellars and Austrian highways. Shall you fall asleep, fucker?

http://bandzone.cz/usnu

Levák Bob

Epic Afterlife who had to cancel their show were replaced by sick-lyricists Levák Bob. This is not clear powerviolence, nor emo/screamo, but at least hardcore can be felt by all of us, right? The title of their first release, “the illusions of the shits” is also very tempting, so we are looking forward for the shit-ride!

http://bandzone.cz/levakbob

Plague Called Humanity

The boundaries between electronics and hardcore, moreover in the dark Gothic contours, are not much favored by the trend hunters yet, as one would maybe expect. PCH combines these influences with emphasis on irony and incorrectness, similar to the old school new wave, but also to actual cyber hardcore or even grindcore (imagine cybergrinder BBYB meeting electro death rock She Pleasures herself!). Anyway their first EP is an outstanding piece!

https://pchband.bandcamp.com/releases

Bambulkyně Dobrodružstvá

Bambulkyně Dobrodružstvá is both a band of fairy tale tupa tupa dancing and also a rather brutal peepshow bordering GG Allin, when various human excrements, or even some backline parts are thrown to the audience. Maybe that's why they are usually being invited especially to the birthday parties. Beware of sickles tho!

https://bambulkynedobrodrustva.bandcamp.com/

Pray for Death

This band waging a war on the edges of death metal, crust and stenchcore will set the fire certainly! One of the dark horses of the festival! The new songs with new sound are currently being prepared just to be ready for this festival, for now it is a surprise, but their incorporation into Friday’s program actually means something!

http://bandzone.cz/prayfordeath

Drén

The noisy magician is unearthly active both in releases and parties as well. Who knows our distro, is maybe already aware of his new record called Leichenhaus in the shape the black box with a rather strange smell. Beside his full scale noise terror on the main stage he will also prepare a special set on Jihadi John stage with yet unannounced confederate under a title “Don't talk to DJS“.

http://drensoundworks.blogspot.si/

Yamabushi

The origins of Yamabushi's songs can be found in Máma Bubo, Před vaším letopočtem and Yamabo bands from 80s and 90s. The contemporary face of this band is intergenerational. This gives them a certain kind of a special unpredictability (do you know that the youngest members of Yamabushi play also in Bambulkyně Dobrodružstvá?). But as Vlasta Matoušek, the band-master, anti-advertises: „The fans of this band haven't been born yet!“. Well, let’s try to conceive some :-)

http://bandzone.cz/yamabushi

Ejakulující Kokos

„Hawai coco core?!?!? What the hell is that?!?!“ Or one more review from the musical cages: „Ejakulující Kokos – mentals that are trying to play gore-grind“. And the band replies: A) We are mentals B) What is gore-grind? A band that is capable to make fun even of itself and feels no need to act as correct world savior simply belongs to this festaival too. So enjoy the palm falling on you heads!

http://bandzone.cz/kokos

Lhostejnost

This drone-doom band is sometimes reviewed as the „reall slow“ one. But that's correct at all, cos Lhostejnost (trans. Indifference) plays MOTIONLESS music. You don't jump to the abyss, the abyss will jump into you. But if you really survive it until the end, please, do not bother to applause!

http://lhostejnost.bandcamp.com/

Mario The Shroomer

Finally some young blood (or better said, cloth :-D) from Prague! These guys are by the way active promoters as well, they would offer the last hairs from their balls for a help to a touring band. Musically they absorb many influences and throw them up again in a rather original way! Guttural beatdown punk – something between death-slamming „farting to a bottle“ metal, hardcore breakdowns and gory pig squealing. And they play punk too, while you are sleeping.

https://www.facebook.com/mariotheshroomer

"Jihadi John" stage:

...in other words the stage that will cut your head off! It is gonna be managed by Olgoj Chorchoj Sound System crew, so the essential part of it will be based on acid freetekk DJs sets, but you can certainly expect also live sets with many features, especially the acid electro-visions by Kabarga or electronic acid poetry by The Prostory Revival. After the Dead Bodies Shaft will be filled, the night program will continue here, Jihadi John will also rumble the afternoon impatients. But even a transfer of some live-set musicians to the main stagecan’t be ruled out, we shall see:-) Finally, special guests will be introduced on Jihadi John stage, mainly breakcore Memero from Berlin and DJane Aisling playing new wave, death rock, dark wave etc, but also the above mentioned Drén and his secret companion will present their live set called „Don't talk to DJs! there“

[battleshidge]

plight of the pizza

Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender Pairing: Shidge (Shiro/Pidge) Rating: Teen and up; for language. Summary: Cooking was like chemistry, which she’d aced last semester, so she figured that it would be easy to whip something up. You followed a specific formula and would achieve edible success–simple. And even simpler was putting a monstrosity called a frozen meal in the oven at the right temperature and waiting for it to be done. Piece of cake, she thought.

Only...it wasn't.

Author’s Notes: From the prompt Character A tries, and fails, to cook dinner for Character B, resulting in a hoard of takeout food and a promise to never use the stove again for @shiroganeholt​ and @ohdearkamiwhy, who asked for it way back in like, August. I’m sorry it took me so long! I never forgot, I just got distracted and busy and here it is.

I hope you guys enjoy it!

Also on Ao3!

(shiroganeholt and ohdearkamiwhy, if you guys have Ao3 accounts, if you could comment or message and tell me the name so I can edit the Ao3 post to be gifted to you guys, I’d appreciate it!)

It had been a while since Pidge had tinkered in the kitchen.

She was a very technical sort of person. Machines were kind of her thing. But cooking was like chemistry, which she’d aced last semester, so she figured that it would be easy to whip something up. You followed a specific formula and would achieve edible success–simple. And even simpler was putting a monstrosity called a frozen meal in the oven at the right temperature and waiting for it to be done. Piece of cake, she thought.

Only...it wasn’t.

As the open oven allowed the plumes of dark grey smoke to disperse, Pidge stared blankly at what was supposed to be pizza. The center looked like it might conceivably pass as food, but the edges were blackened and the pepperonis were curling in on themselves, shriveled and much darker than she thought they should be.

She spared a glance for the smoke detector, abandoned and in pieces on the counter. That horrendous beeping would have given her a headache, if she’d let it persist. So she’d disassembled the device, because that was something she could fix later.

The pizza, however, looked like a loss.

“Holy crow,” she murmured, pulling the pan out and sliding it onto the stovetop, biting her lip. “What did I do wrong?”

She had set the timer for fourteen minutes, just like the box had said. And she was certain she’d had the right temperature. It should have been as easy as following the instructions on the box, so where could she have possibly gone wrong?

Pidge didn’t exactly have time to right this wrong. Shiro would be back to the apartment in about ten minutes, give or take a few, and would start asking her questions. Why does it smell like something burnt? he’d probably start with, raising a skeptical eyebrow at her. And despite how easy fibbing to her friends was, usually as a joke, she couldn’t do the same to Shiro. She’d probably end up spilling that she was trying to surprise him because they’d officially been dating for six months.

Six months.

Even now, it seemed impossible. Six months ago, she’d been a college freshman that was hopelessly head over heels for the teacher’s assistant in her Altean history class, and now here she was, a sophomore whose feelings had long since been reciprocated. It was almost unreal.

Shiro was in the middle of his obligatory student teaching semester, preparing for his career and life as a history teacher, and he’d been asked by his classroom mentor to attend a faculty meeting after school. He’d accepted, of course, because he liked to be useful and he liked to be prepared. And so Pidge had taken it upon herself to fix them dinner tonight, in celebration of six months together and the progress he had made.

Burnt pizza didn’t make for a good celebratory dinner, though.

After a few more moments of staring, wondering what she’d done wrong, Pidge pulled out her phone. If there was anyone who could help her come up with something in the next five minutes, it was the infallible Hunk. So she scrolled through her contacts and found his name in record time, pressing the Call button and lifting the phone to her ear impatiently.

“Hey, Pidge, what’s up?” he asked after the third ring, his tone familiar and warm.

“I need advice,” she said brusquely, prodding her catastrophic attempt at cooking with a spatula. “I’m trying to make something for Shiro for dinner and I burned this stupid pizza. He’s supposed to be home in about five minutes. Is there anything I can at least start in that timespan that might hide the smell of the burnt pizza and be ready pretty soon after he gets here?”

Hunk remained silent for a few moments, and she heard a few clanking sounds. He was probably cooking, too. But there was chatter in the background, so maybe he was at the store or something instead?

“How did you mess up on a pizza? I doubt you made it from scratch–sorry, Pidge–so how did you misread the oven instructions? Nevermind, I’m not sure I want to know, really. Um...do you have pasta? Pasta is pretty simple. Put some tomato sauce in a pan and let it simmer on low heat while you boil water and a dash of salt and put the pasta noodles in. Even you shouldn’t be able to mess that up.”

“Hey–”

“–sorry, sorry. Anyway, just let the sauce simmer for a bit on low while you boil the pasta. Easy-peasy. Even Lance can do it, so it should be easy enough for you to handle.”

A muffled, “Hey, I heard that!” sounded from the other end of the line, but Pidge merely snorted and focused on Hunk’s voice.

“Hush, Lance! But Pidge, as long as you keep the pasta from sticking to the sides of the pan while you boil it, you should be fine. Don’t overcook it, or it will be mush. But you’d have to let it boil for ages to get to that point, so you should be fine.”

“Somehow I’m not sensing much confidence,” she drawled, lips folding into a frown as she held the phone on her shoulder to rummage for the pasta in the cabinets.

“You burned a pizza, Pidge. One that you just have to put in the oven for like, fifteen minutes at the right temperature,” Hunk’s tone was flat. “Sorry if that doesn’t lend me confidence about your skills in the kitchen. Anyway, while the sauce is simmering, you should be able to add some cu–ow, Lance, what the hell–cumin, just for a bit of flavor. Personal family recipe, don’t tell Mom I told you that!”

Cinnamon? Pidge thought, Is that what he said? I didn’t think cinnamon went in pasta, but I’m a terrible cook.

“Yeah, yeah. Anything else you can tell me?”

“I’ve told you pretty much everything. It’s up to you. Make sure the pasta has enough water and a dash of salt, stir the sauce occasionally to make sure it doesn’t stick, and you should make it through. Lance is trying to run me over with the shopping cart now, though, so I’ve got to finish shopping. Later, Pidge! Good luck with the pasta!”

“Thanks, Hunk. I’ll let you know how it turns out,” she managed. “Later!”

The phone clicked into silence soon after, and she let out a disgruntled huff of air through her nose.

Formulas and calculations she could do with ease. Mixing chemicals and using a bunsen burner was nothing. But somehow cooking was proving to be a lot harder than expected.

With one last sigh, she gathered all that Hunk had told her she needed and got some water in the pan she’d be cooking the pasta in. Pidge placed it on one of the burners, turning it on to let the water start heating up. For a moment she paused, trying to remember whether she needed to wait for the water to start boiling before she dumped the pasta in. After a few moments, though, Pidge decided that it wouldn’t hurt and did so anyway. She poured some tomato sauce into another pan and placed it on an adjacent burner, turning up the heat to let the sauce start simmering. Shiro was supposed to be back any minute now, so after a moment she decided to turn the heat almost all the way up.

“I hope this is right,” she murmured, glancing at the ruined pizza on the cabinet. She started to step towards it to clear it away, but then remembered Hunk’s other tips and turned to reach for the seasoning instead.

She dashed some salt into the pasta pan. She wasn’t sure how much she needed, so she gave it three or four good shakes just to be safe before reaching for the cinnamon. With that in hand, Pidge actually hesitated for a few moments. It still sounded so weird, but who was she to judge? Hunk had said it was his family’s secret ingredient, and he was nicer than Lance. He wouldn’t play a trick on her to ruin her pasta.

After two shakes of the cinnamon, which she mixed into the tomato sauce, Pidge stirred both pans a little before moving to deal with her earlier mess.

Tentatively, Pidge reached out to touch the pizza pan. It had already cooled enough for her to hold the metal, and she reached for the metal spatula in order to lift the pizza and discard it.

The only problem, however, was that it was stuck.

“What the hell?” she murmured aloud, brow furrowing. Pidge redoubled her effort, wiggling the spatula and working it under the edge of the burnt crust. If she’d expected it to get easier after that, she was wrong, because she had to continue wiggling to get under the pizza. And when she was able to flip some of it over, she saw that the entire bottom was black.

Pidge groaned.

Muttering to herself, a string of swears and admonishments, she continued to pry the blackened crust from the metal pan. It was a slow process and she grew gradually more agitated as she worked.

Until she glanced over to the stove as the first drops of water rolled down the side of the pasta pan.

“Fuck,” she cursed again, abandoning the pizza and slipping back to the pasta on the stove. Pidge stirred it quickly, noting with disdain how a few noodles were sticking to the bottom and sides of her pan. “Fuck,” she repeated, trying to gently scrape the pieces away from the edges. Once satisfied, she glanced at the sauce, gave it a quick stir and grimacing when it felt like some of it had already been sticking to the pan. But as long as it was edible, she could count the endeavor as at least partially successful and not a disaster.

Pidge returned to prying the pizza from its pan, depositing the ruins in the trashcan that she had pulled over. There was nothing else she could do with it. Even strays wouldn’t have been able to eat that. It was so burnt it was probably poisonous. Not to mention that she didn’t even know if dogs or cats could safely eat pepperoni or cheese or any of that stuff. Some of the simplest things had the worst side effects, sometimes.

She noticed the smell next.

Something...burning? Burnt? Pidge paused, leaning forward to sniff at the last few pieces of pizza on the pan. And, once she’d deduced that the new stench wasn’t coming from her first ruined meal, her head whipped towards the stove again and she dropped the pan and spatula on the counter as she moved over to it.

She stirred the pasta–a little bit of sticking, but so far, so good.

Furrowing her brow, Pidge started to stir the sauce only to find that it was being stubborn. When she forcefully scraped some of the food from the pan, she stared blankly at it for a minute.

“Motherfucker,” she hissed, turning off the burner and staring at the lumps of black in the sauce. “Of all fucking days for me to mess up,” she muttered angrily, rummaging for some serving dishes in the cabinet. Once she had placed her dish of choice on the cabinet, she started to scoop the pasta out into it.

Halfway through, she realized that she could have used a strainer, but the scooping was mindless and helped her vent some of her frustrations, so she continued anyway. Doing it like this also helped her gauge how done her noodles were. There were some with dark spots, and she assumed those had been stuck to the sides, and some that looked...rubbery? But she tried one, and it was at least edible, if a little salty.

She turned, then, to the travesty that was her tomato sauce. The pungent smell of burning food was even more pronounced now and she wrinkled her nose as she reached for the pan.

“Dammit,” was the swear of choice this time. And then Pidge carefully tilted the pan over the pasta, pouring out what remained of the tomato sauce–or at least what still looked edible–before returning the pan to the stove and sighing, staring at her concoction. Pidge felt incredibly weary as she fished out a fork, and a little more than nervous. She knew her own prowess in the kitchen, and she knew better than to test her luck on most days. But today wasn’t most days.

As soon as she’d managed to spear a piece of pasta with her fork, dragging it through the meagre drizzle of sauce for good measure, she took a shuddering breath, closed her eyes, and opened her mouth.

The first thing she noticed was that it tasted burnt. She wrinkled her nose and kept her eyes closed while she tried to decipher the rest of the flavors that were assaulting her tastebuds. There was too much salt–that’s what she tasted next. And then...cinnamon. Of all things, cinnamon. It didn’t work with the sauce, it was extra awful with the salt, and Pidge felt tears pricking the corners of her eyes.

She forced herself to swallow and slammed her fork down.

The next course of action had her pulling her phone to her ear, fighting back the frustrated tears, as she waited for the call to connect.

“Pidge! How did it go?” Hunk’s voice was carefully level, and it only made her eyes burn more.

Softly, grudgingly, Pidge admitted, “I fucked up again.”

Her voice was a lot smaller than she’d hoped, and it cracked, and she knew if it had been Lance she never would have lived that particular moment down. But this was Hunk–kind, benevolent Hunk.

As much as she hated to admit it, though, she was calling to get the warm rush of feeling that his comforting skills always provided. He was the best person to go to–aside from Shiro and her family, of course–when she was feeling particularly down. So she listened as he hummed softly in understanding and started to reassure her with little sentences–”It’s okay, maybe next time. I’ll teach you sometime, Pidge. Don’t worry about it. Just clean everything up and wash the dishes and everything will be okay”–and she felt her frustration start to ease.

“Pidge?” the voice rang through the hall, decidedly not belonging to the man on the phone, and she cursed. Hunk cut off in the middle of comforting her.

“What’s wrong, Pidge?”

“Thanks for the help, Hunk. Shiro’s home, so I’ve got to go. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Sure thing, Pidge. You’ll be fine. Later!”

“Bye.”

She had just hung the phone up when Shiro poked his head into the kitchn, sniffing.

“Something smells burnt,” he observed, not unkindly, as he stepped into the room. He observed the scene as she shoved her hands in the pockets of her overlarge hoodie and failed to meet his eyes. He saw what was left of the pizza on the pan first, and with a glance she could see that he was putting the pieces together when he spotted the pasta.

Without asking anymore questions, and before Pidge could speak, he stepped forward and swept her into a hug, spinning her around.

“Wha–Shiro?” she asked, weakly, as she wrapped her arms around him.

“I thought you told me you couldn’t cook,” he said cheerfully, releasing her as he looked over at the pasta.

“I can’t,” she muttered, busy staring at her socks. “I messed up.”

“This doesn’t look too bad,” Shiro offered, gesturing to the meagre serving of pasta she’d dished up. He reached for the fork and she moved to stop him, opening her mouth to argue but unable to find the words to say.

Finally, as he looked at her inquisitively, Pidge settled for, “It tastes burnt. And I seasoned it wrong.”

“Well, you tried to cook for us, so the least I can do is try it.”

Shiro said it easily, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. With a reluctant sigh, she moved to let him pick up her discarded fork and watched with a bit of guilt as he took a bite. At first he seemed relatively unfazed, and then she watched his eyebrows rise in confusion. He chewed a little more slowly, and realized he was trying to process the taste information he was receiving.

He swallowed after a few minutes and cleared his throat a little. “That was...interesting.”

“I told you I messed up,” Pidge decided that her socks were more entertaining yet again. She did spare him a glance, though, and then held his gaze.

“Well, that’s nothing that a little bit of practice can’t fix,” he said optimistically, smiling down at her as he placed the fork back in its previous position. He opened his mouth to speak again but paused, brow furrowing, as he sniffed. Confused, Pidge followed suit and found herself wrinkling her nose.

Her eyes trailed, in horror, down to the burner she thought she’d turned off.

“Fuck,” she repeated for probably the hundredth time, lunging around her boyfriend to click the burner off.

The burnt sauce in the pan had bubbled, and after a few moments Pidge realized, with horror, that the non-stick Teflon was bubbled and warped, not the sauce.

“Oh no,” she breathed, eyes prickling again. “Shit. Fuck. I mean...shit.”

A warm, heavy hand descended upon her shoulder, and she didn’t dare look up at him.

“Don’t worry about it, Pidge, I’ve got another pan that same size. Your mother makes sure I have plenty of cookware, remember?”

“Because she knows I can’t cook,” Pidge mumbled numbly.

“And because she’s a kind woman who likes to make sure you and all your friends are well taken care of,” Shiro added smoothly, slipping his arm around her shoulders as he moved the ruined pan to the sink to cool. “So for now, why don’t we order some thai and watch some SyFy  movies while you promise me not to mess around with the kitchen while I’m not at home. Okay?”

Pidge nudged Shiro in the ribs, snorting as she ducked out from under his arm. His methods were different than Hunk’s, of course, but they could never go wrong with thai and SyFy.

“Well, sure. You order the thai–I’ve gotta go grab something real quick.”

Shiro quirked an eyebrow at her, questioningly, but was already pulling his phone from the pocket of his black slacks. She beamed and dragged herself up on her tiptoes using his tie–which also pulled him down a little–to press a kiss to his cheek. She mouthed I’ll be right back as he smiled and pulled his phone up to his ear, and then she slipped into the bedroom, where her backpack was tossed haphazardly in the middle of the bed.

It took her only a few minutes, but she finally pulled out the box. It rattled and she grinned, turning and making her way back down the apartment hallway. She reached the living room from one direction just as Shiro stepped out of the kitchen, and he smiled at her again.

“The thai will be here in about forty minutes or so,” he announced, sliding his phone onto the wooden coffee table. “Now...what is it you had to rush off to do?”

“I went to get this,” she responded, crossing the distance between them to offer him the metal box in her hands. He glanced at it, then back to the tentative but excited grin on her face, and accepted it even though there was confusion written all over his face.

“What is it?” he asked slowly, reaching for the latch.

“You’ll see,” Pidge retorted simply. With a chuckle, Shiro opened the box and started to look through the bits and bobs inside. When he glanced back up at her, she found the words tumbling from her mouth without bidding. “I know it’s a little unorthodox, but I know you’ve been saying you wanted to get your prosthetic fixed and we already had the list of parts we needed, so I talked to dad about getting them for you. All the wires we need to remodel the inside should be there, plus some upgraded components, since you refused the last time the Garrison offered. And it’s just...well, it’s not an anniversary because those are annual, but it’s been six months now and I just thought I should try to do something for you because you’ve done a lot for me, and–”

Her words were muffled by his warm chest, and she sank into the hug, wrapping her arms around him and forgetting whatever she was planning to say next. She’d long lost her rehearsed speech, anyway, and had just been babbling.

“Thank you, Katie,” his tone was soft, and she squeezed him even closer.

“Thank you,” her voice was a lot smaller than she’d expected, but it was enough.

“I–” Shiro started, but the obnoxious clanging of the apartment’s doorbell cut him off. He extricated himself from the hug with an apologetic grin–it wasn’t even his fault, he didn’t have to feel bad about it–and moved to answer the door.

“Hi, thanks for ordering Hunan’s,” a familiar delivery woman stood there, offering Shiro a brown paper bag with a bright smile.

“I, uh, didn’t order Chinese,” Shiro offered her an awkward grin, and she laughed.

“Oh, I know. Your friend Hunk came to the shop and ordered it for you in person, and he already paid for it,” she pushed the bag into Shiro’s arms. “It’s your usual, anyway. You’ve got good friends, don’tcha?” with another laugh, she waved, “You guys have a good night!”

“Th-thanks,” Shiro leaned out the door, watching the delivery lady leave, and Pidge stood in the middle of the living room, dumbfounded, as Shiro turned around with the Hunan’s bag in his arms.

It smelled amazing after the concoctions Pidge had ruined.

“Well, I guess we’ll have Chinese and thai?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I guess,” Shiro shook his head with a grin. “I’m going to have to pay Hunk back for this.”

Pidge snorted, reaching up to unroll the bag in Shiro’s arms and peer in at the three boxes. One would be their fried rice, and the other two would be their normal entrées. She could smell them. Satisfied, she dropped back to her feet and rocked on her heels with a very pointed, “Hunk will never take your money.”

“I know,” he sighed, “but I still have to try.”

“Well, before that, you should probably change out of your nice clothes into something comfy. Especially if we’re going to chow down and watch SyFy movies!”

Shiro agreed, and with a grin, pushed the paper bag into her arms. “You get everything set up in here, then, and I’ll go get changed.”

He leaned down to kiss her forehead, and she let out an exaggerated groan and dragged out her spoken, “Fiiiiine.”

As he disappeared down the hallway and into the bedroom, Pidge deposited the takeout on the table, pulling it from the bag and rejoicing when she found the chopsticks at the bottom, as well as some plastic cutlery. It wouldn’t do to dirty any more dishes tonight, after all. And then she went about finding all of the SyFy movies they had, whether on DVD, Blu-Ray, or on the Roku.

One of the things she looked forward to most about their SyFy movie nights was the intense debate over which ones they’d watch.

Ten minutes later, they had just settled on a movie–Something Beneath–when the doorbell rang again. They shared a confused look, but then Pidge shrugged and got up to answer the door.

When she opened the door, she saw another delivery person...but he wasn’t wearing the thai restaurant’s uniform. Instead he was wearing Pizza My Heart’s uniform.

“Can I help you?” she asked tentatively.

“Is this where Shee-ro and Podge live?” he asked, trying to read a messy scrawl on his notepad. Pidge winced.

“I’m Pidge,” she answered instead, “and we didn’t order a pizza.”

“Nah, it says here that your friend Lens–or is it Lanny? Laney?–anyway, your friend ordered you a large pepperoni pizza. Here you go,” he handed her the box and, without looking back, turned and said, “Have a nice night!”

“Lance?” she said blankly at his back, but he didn’t hear. And then, when she stepped back inside and closed the door, Shiro first looked shocked at the box in her hand. The expression soon morphed into one of amusement.

“Let me guess, Lance?”

“Unless we have a friend named Lens, Lanny, or Laney, then yes, it was probably Lance,” she snorted, recovering from her own surprise to bring the pizza to the table. “And now we’ll have Chinese, pizza, and thai to eat while we watch some questionable cinematic masterpieces.”

“Hear, hear,” Shiro deadpanned, but they shared a laugh as she slipped back onto the couch next to him. He hit play on the movie and handed Pidge her Chinese entrée before grabbing a slice of pizza himself, with a wink. He leaned back, draping his arm around her shoulders and pressing another soft kiss to her temple, before focusing his attention forward.

And if they were mostly full when their thai actually arrived, it didn’t faze them too much. Whatever they didn’t eat would serve them both as lunch and possibly dinner tomorrow.

“Love you,” Pidge murmured warmly into her pad thai, curled up against her boyfriend’s side as the credits rolled and he moved to start the next movie.

“Love you, too,” Shiro responded affectionately around the slice of pizza dangling from his mouth, one arm around her shoulders and the other fiddling with the remote.

#vld #voltron legendary defender #vld shidge #shidge #my fics #my fic #vld fanfiction #plight of the pizza #pidge can't cook #vld pidge #vld shiro #vld shiropidge #shiropidge #shiro #pidge #takashi shirogane #pidge gunderson | katie holt #lol come on pidge why cinnamon #ohdearkamiwhy #shiroganeholt #prompt #plight of the pizza fic #potp fic #what the fuck are tags man #for the record pidge totally had the oven on way too high for the pizza

[existentialquasar]

Random Quiz

Birthday

2nd July

Age

26

Astrological sign

Technically Gemini, I am traditionally seen as a cancer (wow, that phrasing). No idea why this is important and surely this could be figured out by reading the first answer

Middle name

Conway

Parents' names

Linda/Ross

Names of sibling(s), if any

Only child

Birth order

N/A

Name of their first pet, if any

I had fish and a stick insect but they didn’t really do much. I count a pet as an animal that interacts with you in some way, so my first ‘real’ pet was a rabbit and his name was Bramwell

The name of current pet(s), if any

None

Favorite movie

Movie’s’* one is hard to do

>Children of Men

>Amélie

>There Will Be Blood

 Favorite TV show

Not gonna lie its probs GoT but South Park is up there and I religiously watched Friends in my teenage years

Favorite book

The Fall by Albert Camus, I still haven’t fully comprehended it but that is part of the fun, the bits I understand ring true for me and I find Camus’s absurdist approach to philosophy exhilarating

Favorite band

In terms of bands Blur and the Smiths are probably the top two but my top five favorite artists are; 1.Björk (the empress herself) 2.Tom Waits 3.Atmosphere 4.St. Vincent 5.FKA Twigs

Favorite food

Tuna pasta bake (particularly if its made by the mother :D)

Least favorite food

Tinned tomatoes, beetroot and most vegetables if they are on their own

Preferred pizza toppings

PINEAPPLE ALL DAY, yes I am one of those and if you’re not, then fuck you. I kid of course, dislike whatever you want, just keep your inferior tastes away from me (;D)

Favorite soda

Not really a fan of sodas to be honest, water will do or some kind of chocolate drink if I am feeling adventurous 

Favorite alcoholic drink

Spirits mainly, Pimms with lemonade hits the spot. Won’t say no to a good ol’ cider once in a while

Their eye color

Blue

Where I grew up

Sandwell, no I am not from Birmingham for those who insist the black country and Brum are the same thing, you’re wrong, thx 4 askin tho

Cat person or a Dog person or both or neither

I gravitate towards cats but dogs do seem to love me though

Best friend

Bo 4eva

How I take my coffee

I shot espressos 

Favorite season

Autumn Favorite sexual position

Wouldn’t you like to know... Probably not actually :( xD

Dream job

At this point probably a writer. During college and university I would have told you something to do with film, to quote a Twenty One Pilots lyric;

And since we know all dreams are dead/And life turns plans up on their head/I will plan to be a bum/So I just might become someone

The worst job I ever had

I got on with the people there but working as a waiter at mecca bingo was soul destroying, however I don’t regret it, precisely because the struggle was real and I see value in it, plus I have some fun memories of the people I worked with

Favorite sports team

West Bromwich Albion, honestly never get into football. You don’t have a favorite team, you have a passion that will crush you week in, week out despite the few moments of elation along the way. Honesty I don’t think I even enjoy football anymore, it feels more like a necessity and a very expensive one too!!!

Allergies are

Once I had a server allergy to Brazil nuts but I grew out of that one, now I have less harmful allergies such as pesto and some cats and dogs (but not all weirdly)

Biggest celebrity crush

My crush one Jennifer Lawrence was pretty immense not gonna lie, these days celebrities bug me, I do have a small crush on Carey Mulligan though, looks, personalty plus I love almost all the characters she portrays

Whether I can roll my tongue

Yes :S

The name of my first love

I’d rather not share that here

The name of my favorite coworker

I work with one of my closest friends now, so definitely not them! Just kidding its PJ

If I’m left-handed or right-handed

Righty

Nickname

Scizzle (now out of use) ( I was a grime kid, don’t judge me)

Scooter

Parents' jobs 

My dad is basically a mechanic (long story short)

My mom chose not to go back to work after giving birth to me, although tiding the house, looking after my nan before she passed, often making the dinner are all jobs in their own right and shouldn’t be undermined 

Favorite school subject

History, a piss poor standard of teaching, not necessarily our teachers fault but those of us on the back row always had a laugh and the field trips were legendary 

Least favorite school subject

Maths, poor teaching meant I never progressed much, the class itself was a nightmare though, uncontrollable, sympathies for the teacher 

Biggest fear

>Being inherently and innately inadequate

>Lack of consciousness, irrational though that is

>Time

What year I graduated high school

2007... I think? God it feels so long ago

What year I graduated college

Now I understand this is an American centric quiz, so if you mean by college ‘University’ that was 2013, in Britain college is a different level of education, I graduated college in 2009 (again, I think, cut me some slack it was a long time ago) 

Do I like camping

Probably more as an idea than in practice. I have camped at festivals, all great experiences. The camping itself was less desirable Favorite ice cream flavor Chocolate fudge

Ice cream in a cone or a cup

Cone

Do I like spicy food

Hell yeah

Am I vegan or vegetarian

Hell no. I kid of course, whilst I am neither, I would prefer to be a vegan for ethical reasons (although not the stereotypical judgmental moralistic type that people rightly dislike) and there are a few vegan alternatives I love. In truth, I wouldn’t have much of a diet if I was a vegan. That being said I haven’t made any big steps towards becoming one and researching a way I could function with that diet so the fault lies with me, the contradictions are on my head alone  

Cake or pie

Cake? No pie. Actually Cake! Or pie. Nope cake, final answer. Next question, hurry please

If I prefer the sheets to be tucked in or untucked at the end of the bed

Untucked purely because of ease of entry/exit and movement

Favorite swear word

Swear words are overrated, but if I have to... The most offensive one that isn’t discriminatory is cunt so I’ll go with that (XD)