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sea-owl · 2 years ago

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What about a different type of Au!? In Season 1 When Colin is at the Featherington house trying to court marina. what about while he is waiting for his turn a duke or a Visount who Penelope met while helping him out of a situation shows up t court Penelope and while they are talking he make Penelope laugh meanwhile Colin who is supposed to be their for marina is looking at Penelope and the caller and realizes as he makes her laugh that he loves and is super jealous and trying one up the caller the whole time. How do you Think that would go?

Chaos, typical Bridgerton chaos. A scene is about to be made. Colin was already standing next to the seated Penelope waiting for his turn to talk to Marina so he got a front row seat of Marquess Odysseus Rose of Winchester.

Colin first noticed him out of the corner of his eye. The man quietly slipped into the room. Colin would put him around a little bit taller than him, Benedict’s age with Anthony's build and quiet confidence. The man's hair was dark, darker than Colin's own chestnut hair, and scruff along his face. His brown eyes were scanning the room.

“Pen do you know who that is?” Colin whispered to Penelope. Was it a relative of her’s? If not why wasn’t he announced? Who was he looking for?

Penelope’s eyes followed Colin’s line of sight, recognition lighting them once she landed on the man. “That is the Marquess of Winchester, Lord Rose.”

“So not a relative of your’s?” Colin asked.

Penelope shook her head. “No, I assume he is here to call on Marina like the rest of the gentlemen. Odd though, the rumors say he is more focused on his academics than looking for a wife.”

Marquess Rose looked in their direction, as if sensing their stares. A small smile formed on his face as he began to walk over to the pair. Colin noticed in his hands he carried a quill made out of a peacock feather and two journals. One of the journals was plain, something he himself has used before during his Grand Tour, the other was embossed with a floral design.

“Miss Featherington.” Marquess Rose bowed his head. “I had hoped to see you.”

Colin looked back down at Penelope. Again? They’ve met before?

Penelope giggled.

Wait, giggled? Colin found himself leaning back a little. Since when was Penelope this comfortable with some stranger? Colin felt his eye twitch, and his hand slid across the top of the chair until the back of Penelope’s head was unknowingly leaning against his fingers.

“Pen,” Colin said stressing her name. He wasn’t sure if it was to grab her attention or this stranger’s in front of them. Either way he had gotten both. “I don’t believe I have had the pleasure of meeting your new friend.”

“Oh.” Penelope blushed. So bright, and red. They reminded Colin of his favorite fruit raspberries. “Marquess Rose this is Mr. Bridgeton.”

Marquess Rose turned towards Colin, was he sizing him up?. “Bridgerton? I believe I went to school with your brother Benedict.”

“That sounds about right, you look to be about his age.”

“So you are the third brother?”

It was innocent question, many have asked it before, but something about having a titled lord ask him that in front of Penelope set Colin on edge.

“He’s the traveling brother,” Penelope said.

Colin tried not to flinch.

Something lit up in Marquess Rose’s eyes. “You travel? Have you heard the folktales from the places you travel to?”

Colin nodded, unsure why the marquess would be asking about folktales.

Thankfully Penelope spoke up. “Lord Rose studies different folktales around the world and how similar figures have appeared in different cultures.”

Marquess Rose nodded. “Yes, I am currently focusing on mermaids and maidens of the sea. It’s utterly fascinating how similar and different each part of the world views them and how they came to be.”

A lord and an academic? So he actually has a brain under that pretty head of hair? Dear god, no wonder Penelope seems excited to be in his company. Colin found himself wanting to shoo Marquess Rose off to see Marina already. So what if the marquess showed up last he’s sure Lady Featherington would push him right up to the front if she knew he was here. Maybe Colin should let the lady of the house know someone new was in it.

As if she had a similar thought, and Colin did find it so satisfying that Penelope could almost read his mind sometimes, she pointed her head in the direction of her cousin. “Calling hours are almost over soon. If you wish to see Marina my lord you may want to make your way over there.”

Marquess Rose looked confused, and. . . no. No he was not here for-

“I am sorry Miss Featherington but I am actually here to call on you.”

Penelope’s face flushed again, her eyes darting everywhere but the marquess. “Me?”

Colin felt himself go stiff.

Marquess Rose chuckled. “Yes, you Miss Featherington. I had quite enjoyed your perspective on the sirens from the Odysseys. I had hope that you would take mercy on this lord and share your thoughts on Queen Penelope of Ithaca.”

Rumors say he’s not interested in finding a wife my ass, Colin thought, his grip tightening on the chair.

Before either Penelope or Colin could respond Lady Featherington had announced that calling hours were over.

“Here,” Marquess Rose said handing Penelope the embossed journal and peacock quill. “Write your thoughts in here. I can come back another day for you to share them with me.”

“Lord Rose these are too fine for me-”

Marquess Rose cuts Penelope off by closing her hand around the quill and journal. “They are my courting gift to you. One of many actually.” With that Marquess bowed his head to Penelope one more time before leaving.

Colin and Penelope both stared at where the marquess had just left. Well Penelope stared, Colin glared.

Penelope traced the new quill. “This is the first time someone has came to call on me.”

Colin felt himself bristle. He had. . .came to call on Marina, not Pen. As Penelope stroked the spine of the journal Colin promised himself that the Marquess would not be the only caller Pen had tomorrow.

“What are you doing?” Benedict asked.

Colin was surrounded by books, looking as if he was on a mad quest to find the right one. In one hand he held the story of Eros and Psyche, while the other held the Odyssey.

“One of your old schoolmates, the Marquess of Winchester, came and called on Penelope today.”

Benedict scrunched up his nose, trying to think back on who this marquess is. “Okay, what does this have to do with you tearing apart the library?”

“He claims he wants to court her,” Colin spat the word, “but when he first arrived he said he wanted to hear her thoughts on the Queen of Ithaca in the Odyssey. Then he left her with a journal and quill, but no book to reference from. Without a doubt he is looking to embarrass Pen just because she is clever and witty.”

Benedict crossed his arms. “Still doesn’t explain the library.”

“I am going to call on Penelope tomorrow as well with a gift of the Odyssey that she may reference and examine,” Colin said. Now getting up from the floor he began placing both books in a bag. “If Lord Rose thinks-”

“Oh you mean Odysseus-”

“HIS NAME IS ODYSSEUS?!”

#so I know nothing and just picked a random title and last name for odysseus #it's fanfiction #we rolling with it #I'm picturing ben barnes when I write odysseus if that helps #today is the day i find out jonathan bailey and luke thompson are 5'11 #luke newton is the tallest of the three at 6 feet #bridgerton #polin #colin bridgerton #penelope featherington #odysseus' name was chosen just to mess with colin and thought it would be funny #yes colin is still in denial but tbf he probably needs a wack with a good heavy stick at this point for him to fully realize his feelings #odysseus au #odysseus rose

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flowerbarrel-art · 1 year ago

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and also: Happy birthday Chosen :D

He was touched. Happy Birthday Chosen!

#Ask #Yelenayasss #TCO #Chosen #Birthday #Happy Birthday Choo!#Blue made the cake not so sweet and he loved it #Chosen wanted to eat all of it but he had three slices #Everyone was happy he liked it #Reconfigured Dark AU #FlowerBarrel Art

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catsafari25 · 1 year ago

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A/N: Hello again, and with this I think (?) I may have succeeded in writing enough bionicle fic to get it out of my system (unless another plot bunny hits me like a cannonball, but... eh, we'll see) and thus, here is the companion piece to the Vakama & Roodaka oneshot.

This time, exploring the scene where Vakama entered the Great Temple, from his side of things! This was also partially inspired by the scene in Challenge of the Hordika where Nokama is almost physically repulsed in trying to enter the Great Temple :)

In the tunnels beneath the temple, Vakama must stoop.

At first he shuffles, mutated arm tucked against him and his sole hand brushing only briefly along the floor to steady himself, but the passages are dark and deep and lined with creatures which seek out the weak. The eyes that watch him are not hungry. They keep their bellies too full for that.

In the end, it is easier quicker to drop to all fours, to share the weight between claw and tool that feet alone cannot. His altered form folds into the new stance with frightening familiarity. It's comfortable.

Natural.

The crown of his mask grazes the tunnel's ceiling, but only in passing. His gait is sure. Well. Surer than the ungainly slouch it had been before.

It was said – back when Matoran were awake to say such things – that even the strongest swimmers of Ga-Metru would hesitate before plunging into the depths of the protodermis sea. Not because the creatures there had any fondness for the taste of Matoran. In truth, it was thought that the rahi actively disliked the flavour. No, it was because the way Matoran swam was indistinguishable from the rahi's usual prey. Only when they had sunk tooth and jaw into their meal would they realise their mistake.

It was an annoying, if harmless mistake for the rahi.

Matoran couldn't say the same.

Vakama's early crawl through the passage had been like that of a Matoran swimmer: functional, but slow and indiscernible from wounded prey. Creatures drag themselves down into these depths to die, in hopes that they will be devoured only when they are too far gone to feel it. The eyes are patient. They will wait to see if this newcomer is similarly inclined.

And so when Vakama drops to his haunches, the eyes blink. Reassess. He moves less like the hunted and more like the hunter now, more predator than prey, and the eyes – and teeth – keep their distance after that.

The path Vakama stalks through was once a protodermis pipe, made obsolete even before the cataclysm. Newer conduits had been built, more efficient, more resilient, and this one had been disconnected but never dismantled. When he reaches its origin, it takes some effort – and his blazer claw – to break the seal across the hatchway, but when he does, one of the temple's protodermis purification chambers looms above him.

The room beyond is quiet.

Unmarked.

He doesn't realise he's stopped until the chittering of his audience draws closer. The snarl he throws back echoes off the pipe's walls, and the eyes retreat, but do not leave.

Vakama curls his hand around the lip of the hatch, and then falters.

Something is wrong.

It's not a pain, because the feeling does not hurt as it ought, but something is undeniably, fundamentally wrong. It causes his breath to catch, his hand to flinch, and it would be so easy, so easy, to turn and walk away, only...

Only he came here for a reason.

The wrongness flares, amplified for a moment, and then he pulls himself up. The eyes watch, but do not follow. Do they feel it too? Can even such base creatures sense the innate malice the temple exudes?

He clambers out of the purification chamber – empty and abandoned now – and stumbles upon his landing. He catches himself, but does not rise back to his feet.

Wrong.

This is wrong.

And at the edge of the wrongness there is a strange sort of terror. It dreads the same way the fire fears the sea, the same way the prey fears the predator; it is the meeting of two primally antithetical forces where only one can survive. It whispers turn back through his mind.

He moves into the next room.

It's one he knows well. Light filters down from the rot-stained windows, centering – as it had the day he'd first seen it – on the suva, and casting long sentinel shadows of the columns standing to attention around it. A crack mars the suva, its stone dome now split cleanly in two from the quakes, and – drawn by some desire he cannot identify (instinct, curiosity... nostalgia?) – he approaches.

It seems so small now. Even bowed and altered in his Hordika form, he looms over the Ta-Metru symbol he'd once had to stretch to reach.

Unbidden, his hand moves to the niche where once he'd placed a Toa Stone – where once he had though himself chosen, duty-bound, destiny-gifted – and falters a breath from the stone.

The wrongness spikes.

Screams.

And with a twist of something he will not call horror, he understands it is not originating from himself.

But from the temple.

It is repulsion. It's alienation. It's recognising him, but as other, as rahi.

It's disgust that a monster would dare enter its sanctuary.

In the Ta-Metru carving, stone once polished to the point of fragmented reflection, he sees a glimmer of his own face. Neither Toa nor Matoran. Nothing blessed by Mata Nui.

Vakama recoils.

And then a wave of his own disgust, propelled by that fury that runs so close to the surface now, rolls through him. If you didn't want us as the Toa, you should've stopped Makuta from choosing us, he thinks, and digs his claws into the stonework.

The wrongness sings.

But he knows it for what it is now, and his morphed, clawed hand gorges scars through the carving. The stone is soft. Its makers had never imagined someone would take a blade to it.

There comes a tapping from across the room, echoing brazenly off the ancient stone walls, and Vakama retreats instinctively into the shadows. A Rahaga enters.

Norik?

No, this Rahaga's armour is more akin to a Po-Matoran than a Ta-Matoran's, the colour of dust and stone. Vakama tries to recall the Rahaga's name – and then dismisses the attempt.

It won't matter, in the end.

The Rahaga walks as he always has, stooped and slow, but clearly unhindered by the temple. He passes by the suva and runs one gnarled hand across the stonework, his movements marred by curiosity rather than reverence.

The rage arrives a fully-formed creation. It drowns out the wrongness, floods the apprehension, and he is moving before he's decided that this is the path he wants.

It is not pain, for it does not hurt as it ought.

But it does still hurt.

Whatever the Rahaga might once have been, they are old and weak now. Four are captured before Vakama's rage has a chance to cool, but the ire is no less dangerous when it does.

(That's the thing about Ta-Metru; it's not a place of fire so much as it is of magma. And magma doesn't extinguish with the cold; it sets. It moors itself into place, an unmovable, burning force.)

The rage settles, solidifies around his heart and lungs and carves a home between his breaths.

(Magma is not fire. It does not leap blindly from one source to the next. Instead it advances. Slowly. Steadily. It finds a channel, a destination, and it engulfs all in its path until it reaches it.)

He finds the last two remaining Rahaga, pathetically ignorant to their brothers' fates and still scavenging the temple for answers. He hears the way Norik appraises his sister's translation, relief clear in his voice that they are one step further on this wild rahi chase. Relief, surely, that the Rahaga are one step closer to regaining their Toa form.

(And Vakama's anger has found its destination.)

He does not descend on the Rahaga's leader the way he has the others. No. Norik will know what's coming for him first. He gets to fear. Vakama waits until Gaaki has gone, until Norik is alone, and then he circles. The wrongness thrums in his veins, weighing him down and labouring his breaths. It doesn't matter. Let Norik hear his approach.

Norik doesn't try to run. Vakama will give him that much. (A wise choice. Vakama intends for this encounter to last, but if Norik runs, Vakama cannot be sure he won't chase.) Instead, the malformed once-Toa calls out and actually tries to approach him. Stupid. Doesn't he know that he won't win any fight, transformed as he is? As both of them are? No, instead, he tries to talk. As if they are equals, as if Norik has done anything to deserve his respect rather than his scorn. As if he has earned the temple's forgiveness for his trespassing.

Even when Vakama raises the fate of Norik's fellow Rahaga, Norik attempts to sway him with the illusion of reason, talking of duty and unity, as if he's not using the other Toa Hordika to chase after a rahi myth for his own desires. As if their roles are in any way comparable, both Toa of Fire once, both leaders, it's true, but Vakama hasn't forgone his duty to chase after selfish needs.

And it stops now.

Vakama circles closer, and Norik is still talking, unease in his voice, but not fear. Still searching for the right words to turn Vakama to his bidding as he has the other Toa Hordika. Ever the voice of two-faced logic.

Why won't he just shut up?

Does Norik think him to be as gullible as the others? As quick to desert his duty as them?

And Vakama knows he wants – needs – to shake that assurance, that arrogance out of Norik. Needs to see that facade of self-righteous wisdom crumble into the terror of his situation.

The growl begins deep in his chest and, unleashed, it becomes a roar. He rears out of the darkness, into the weak sphere of light surrounding Norik – and there, there he finally sees true fear fill the old fool's eyes.

Something slams into Vakama and he reels, his roar cut short. His hand reaches automatically, defensively, to his mask. He finds only water there. It clings to him, imbued with some sort of power – he can feel something other in it – but otherwise impotent.

"Leave my brother alone," Gaaki snarls. She stands in the doorway, small and hopelessly overpowered, but her shoulders are tensed with a stubborness Vakama recognises. Already, her spinner is powering up for another shot.

Well. Two can play at that game.

Vakama's rhotuka fires into motion, but the water has seeped into the mechanism, and dowses the fire before it has a chance to catch. He gives it a withering look, before turning the expression onto Gaaki. "Very clever."

Another water spinner hits him, but this time he is braced for it and all it does is wash harmlessly off him.

"Is that all you have?" he asks. His blazer claw splutters, but the claws on his hand flex. After all, there's more than one way to defang a muaka...

Gaaki steps back. Good. She knows she's outmatched. "It's a devastating attack underwater," she offers, and her words are strong but there is a cracked edge to them.

"Then you'd better start finding a puddle," Vakama growls, "before my claws find you," and he drops into a run, feet pounding and fangs bared and that ever-present wrongness humming about him.

She doesn't flee. Just like Norik, she stands her ground, gnarled fingers wrapped tight around her staff. Her eyes are hard, but he sees the way her hands shake.

How long will her resolve last, Vakama wonders. Before or after the claws find their mark?

He never finds out.

He's knocked off his feet before he reaches her, and when he hits the ground, ropes of energy pin him to the earth, like a water-bound rahi caught in a net.

What–

Norik.

He'd forgotten Norik.

He thrashes against the restraints, but they hold strong – for now. His blazer claw splutters again, but it does nothing to the energy that binds him.

He stills as he hears footsteps approach.

The two Rahaga hobble into his line of sight. Gaaki is breathing hard, as if only now is she allowing herself to feel the fear. "You left that late, Norik," she says, and even the breath that follows sounds more like a shaken wheeze than a nervous laugh. "Almost too late."

"I only had the one shot. I couldn't afford to miss," Norik replies. "He's got our brothers. Gaaki, go find–"

"I'm not leaving you alone with him," she retorts. "I only went for a moment before, and look what would have happened if I hadn't returned."

Vakama tilts his head as well as the energy net will allow. He grins at the Rahaga, anger curdling it into a sneer. "Yes, Gaaki, you're very good bait, congratulations." He shifts his gaze to Norik. "But you've always been so good at getting others to do your dirty work, haven't you, Norik?"

Norik doesn't even have the decency of guilt. Instead, he simply looks tired. "Whatever you think you know–"

"I know the truth! You don't care about the Matoran, you only care about yourselves!" He strains against the ropes, and although they do not break, there's a little more give in them than before. He slumps back to the ground, breathing hard. "You might have the other Toa fooled. You might even have the temple fooled, but not me," he growls, and the temple's hatred presses down on him, straining his last words.

Gaaki places a frail hand on her brother's arm. "Norik," she says, and there is such unbearable sorrow in her voice. "He looks in pain."

"It's not my doing," Norik assures her softly. "My snare spinner only binds."

Vakama snarls. "I don't need pity from the likes of you. I know what you are."

"We're allies, Vakama," Norik says, in that insufferably reasonable way of his. "Friends."

"You're frauds," Vakama snaps. He twists against his restraints. They slacken, just a touch. "Liars. You don't deserve to walk these floors."

And the Rahaga stand there, unburdened by the temple's hate, strangers to this land, to Metru Nui, and yet it is Vakama the temple repulses? After everything he has forgone, the life he's abandoned, the friendships he's lost, Mata Nui punishes him?

His rhotuka fires off a fire spinner, and it goes wide, cracks a wall. Norik and Gaaki stumble back, Norik preparing another snare shot, but the energy net holding Vakama snaps. Vakama lurches forward, suddenly free, and slams into Norik.

The snare spinner wraps itself around a column. It lights up the room with crackling energy.

A blast of water grazes past his shoulder, too shy of hitting Norik to commit to taking the easy shot, and Vakama reels towards Gaaki. He fires with a snarl, but hears the snare spinner coming again and ducks at the last moment.

Again his own attack misses and the shot cleaves clean through a wall. Something on the other side begins to smoulder.

Then it begins to rumble.

It's a low sound at first, as deep as the earth and just as vast. Almost like a distant growl. But then the cracks begin to spiral out across the roof, along the columns, and the room buckles.

The light flickers. The frames of the high windows above collapse.

The world becomes fragmented, filled with flickering images. Falling masonry and toppling pillars and dust – but the sounds never relent. Even in the depths of the passing darkness, the thunder continues.

And when the dust settles, so does an awful silence.

Vakama straightens, or does his best approximation of it. Fragments of cracked protodermis fall from his shoulders, his head, his back. He withdraws the hand which has somehow found itself raised above Gaaki, knocking aside the stone slab caught against his arm.

Where's Norik?

Both Hordika and Rahaga stand side by side, that quietness disturbed only by the skittering of stone shards settling. There is wrongness in his breath, his head, and it's impossible to separate where the temple's ends and his begins. But any moment now, Norik will reappear from the wreckage, bearing that ever-same holier-than-thou look, and the anger will rise anew in Vakama.

Any.

Moment.

Now.

"You've killed him," Gaaki says, and her voice breaks that terrible stillness. She draws in a half-breath that cracks into a sob. "You've... oh, Norik..."

No.

No, it was an accident. He hadn't meant to– Norik had simply been in the wrong place. It wasn't as if he'd taken a blazer claw to Norik, or hit him directly with a fire spinner. He'd only meant to... what? What had he only meant to do?

Something swings towards him and he grabs the staff before he even registers what it is.

"He's not dead," Vakama says, and maybe if he says it, he might even believe it. He snaps his gaze to Gaaki, as if her grief is bringing it to pass. "He's not. He's not as easy to kill as that. When the others– when the Toa find him, he'll be fine. Fools like him always find a way to survive."

Gaaki attempts to pull her staff free, but her strength is no match for Vakama's. He wretches it out of her grasp and tosses it aside.

"Stop that."

She doesn't listen to him, only steps back and charges up her rhotuka. The grief in her eyes fogs into hatred.

The water spinner hits him but does little more than rock him.

"Stop."

Gaaki screams, a sound of rage and anguish, and releases a volley of spinners as ineffectual as the first.

Vakama's patience – or whatever had held him in place until now – snaps. He lunges forward. His claws close around the joints of Gaaki's rhotuka and pins the mechanisms harmlessly into place, in the same manner one might pick up a baby ussal crab by the widest edge of its shell. She thrashes, but Vakama's grip holds.

"I said, stop," he snarls.

She's breathing hard, her gasps sharp-edged with agony. "You killed him," she says, voice hoarse and hateful.

His insides twist, and – Gaaki hauled by his side – he starts the ascent to where the rest of the Rahaga are trapped. He doesn't look back to the rubble. Doesn't glance for one last glimpse of Norik's resting place.

He's not dead. He's not dead he's not dead he's not

The wrongness, the hatred, has woven so deep into him, it's almost a part of him now.

Toa don't kill. Vakama can't remember who taught him that (he recalls, briefly, the flash of a gold mask, but it comes with pain – grief – and he pushes it aside before it can take root) but it gnaws at him like a trapped stone rat. Toa don't kill.

But he was never meant to be one.

And if the Great Temple – if Mata Nui – thinks a mistake was made in Vakama's destiny....

Well. That's somebody else's problem.

The Hordika that returns to Roodaka is different from the one she sent out. There's something new in his eyes... or perhaps something lost.

"How was the temple, Vakama?" she asks when it's just the two of them.

He looks to her. Beneath the anger, beneath the rahi, there's almost a haunted look to those eyes. It vanishes a moment later, but Roodaka never doubts her own eyes.

"Unwelcoming," he replies, and Roodaka smiles. She could have suggested Vakama pick the Rahaga off one by one in the chaos of Metru Nui, outside where her Visorak could have been an aid... but the temple had been too good an opportunity to miss.

"Good." She sets a hand on his shoulder. "You owe no loyalty to Mata Nui, Vakama. Not anymore."

He rolls his shoulder, but not sharp enough to dislodge Roodaka's hand.

"One thing I do not understand," she says. "What happened to the sixth Rahaga?"

The Toa growls. It is a gutteral sound, rooted deep in the chest and at home in a way it wasn't before. "You wanted a message left for the other Toa. I needed a messenger."

"Alive?"

Vakama shrugs his shoulder again, and this time she lets him roll her hand loose. "Does it matter, so long as they understand?" he growls.

No, Roodaka concedes as she surveys the remains of the Toa before her. She supposes not.

#bionicle #cat writes #lego bionicle #do i have a weakness for the hordika arc? you'll never know #(yes. look i was a well behaved 12year old kid who loved plots about characters going feral. i ate the hordika plotline up)#(and two decades later or there abouts i still have nostalgic fondness for it)#heya so how do we feel about vakama returning to the temple and finding it is repulsed by him?#a discovery that might not only confirm he wasnt chosen by mata nui but has been forsaken #and yeah this was the fic i technically titled 'damned'#but also casually thought of it as 'god called to let you know he hates you personally'#because that's definitely a normal thing to name a fic #also yes i like the idea that roodaka pushed vakama to enter the temple knowing he would feel abandoned by mata nui #and thus helps sever the 'destiny' part of the three virtues #i like the idea that just like matau had to invoke the three virtues to get vakama back #roodaka worked on severing vakamas ties to the three virtues to get him to turn his back on the others #and while she succeeded with unity and destiny #duty she could only derail or corrupt rather than sever entirely #and that (esp since duty is vakamas whole shtick) is why matau reminding him of his duty finally worked #i'll probably add this and the stasis tube au to ao3 in time #but for now it goes here

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wolfblood-of-anubis · 1 year ago

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Eddie: Where's Nina?

Amber: Don't worry about Nina.

Eddie: Oh I'm sorry, have you met me?

#this is for all the neddie shippers out there🫡🫡 i see you #au in which nina IS in s3 and all of sibuna get to the gatehouse only its nina that gets locked upstairs and eddie’s wondering where she is #amber’s trying to keep him out of it out of a promise she made to nina #turns out the more the osirian gets involved in these myths and stuff the stronger their powers grow #and the more it invites danger as it’s almost a declaration that they’re ready for more #so nina would rather avoid that; her plan was to not come back at all but her grandmother said no; she would finish school and graduate #i just gave so much context for three lines of dialogue #house of anubis #sibuna #eddie miller #nina martin #chosen duo #source: supernatural

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legendary-pancakes · 1 year ago

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i've done it again lads i've drawn art for my au i never talk about

alt version under the cut:

#i can never draw these three separate they must always be together #linktober ends and im like thank god #and then i keep drawing #trying to get a feel for their designs and also learn how to render #loz #loz art #loz fanart #loz au #loz oc #pancake's art #fotco #loz fotco #fate of the chosen ones #shadows of the triforce

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tallsc · 2 years ago

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AvA AUs (Virored)

So a little while ago I made a summary of my main AvA/AvM AU/headcanon thing, if you haven't seen it and you want to it's here.

That one is what I use for most things, and I try to keep it close to canon just with a few of my own interpretations and such. If you ask any of the AvA characters anything on my blog, I'm usually going to answer with the one linked above unless you specify that the character is from one of these AUs XD

That said, I have a few smaller, more canon-divergent AUs, generally focused on one or two characters each. And, hey, why not share those too? And since I don't think I have the motivation or ideas to make cohesive stories for all four, I'm going to give you a summary of each!

However since each of these is gonna take some time and be decently long to write, I'm just gonna be posting one at a time - let's say starting with Red's, then Mango's, then Green's, then Dark's. But I will give you this little sketch to make guesses from until the other three are posted :) I'll try to make one a day but no promises there.

Edit: Hehhh nvm I'll make the others some time but idk the exact schedule I'm too busy sorry XD

(Note: All of these operate using my old headcanons for the most part unless otherwise specified, so for example there still isn't shipping in any of these. Haven't decided if the jewelry still applies for any of these but it does it's not very plot important anyway XD)

Virored AU

(originated from a dream)

I have so many dreams about AvA and a few of them ended up having cohesive enough plots that I spent some time to figure them out more and make them into AUs. This was one of them XD

This takes place some time after both AvA 5 and AvM 30, along with it being in a universe where Dark is on Chosen and the CG's side now. There, however, are some existing virobots, who have started running around destroying things now that they're not getting any more commands from Dark's bracers.

Dark, Chosen, and the CG decided to team up to either shut down or outright destroy any remaining virobots, but during one of those fights, Red got bitten.

Now virobots in this AU can get stronger and smarter by eating code, and this guy in particular was pretty successful. So it decided that, instead of deleting Red and probably getting killed by the rest of the CG, it just jumped inside Red's code like how virobots can infest the computer.

Yeah Red's getting possessed for a fourth time, this kid can't catch a break.

But anyways, since the virobot was taking its time doing any actual possession - it's probably harder to take over a living creature anyway - Red and the CG just decided they were very lucky that nothing too bad happened and went home to patch themselves up and rest.

And that night, the virobot took over. Virored escaped back into the internet to continue their destruction and rally together more virobots, they themselves regrowing virobot-like claws and a venomous mandible from the mixed stick-figure-and-virobot code.

The rest of the CG quickly started trying to track Virored down, getting Chosen and Dark's help (although low-empathy Dark was mostly just annoyed that Virored's stealing Dark's old brand -v-) to find and stop them faster. However, this took them quite a while with quite some difficulty, as Virored was fully aware they were likely being tracked and was actively avoiding them.

In the meantime, though, Virored went back to running around rampant and destroying things - even killing people - just this time, with a new body and new intelligence, able to gather more virobots together into a collective swarm.

However, after a few weeks of this - Virored and their swarm invading a town, leaving after whatever destruction they've caused, then the rest of the CG, Dark, and Chosen tracking them there - the group finally cornered Virored.

And, after a battle, Chosen was able to separate Red and the virobot controlling them.

However, this didn't quite lead to everything being solved. For one, during those weeks, the virobot had still been eating away at Red's code. While they kept their mind mostly intact, their physical body was a different story.

Chosen wanted Orange to help with the separation, since Orange has healing powers, but they still had no clue how they were supposed to invoke those since they still had no memory of how it happened last time, so instead Chosen just had to do it themselves (cause that's not Dark's expertise either) and try to make sure Red would still have enough code left to survive.

This left Red, even after some time (and potions from Blue) to recover, with scars wherever the virobot claws and mandible used to be. Scars that, after a few days, began to grow back into the same claws and fang they used to have.

These odd physical traits were the clearest pieces of what the virobot code and time of possession left behind, though Red still had all the memories of what happened during those few weeks. And, as Virored had bitten and killed people before, those weren't exactly the happiest of memories.

But Red still was free from the possession, none of their friends had been bitten during the fight, so there was at least an okay ending there.

I'm pretty sure all the towns and cities banned Red from going back tho

Well idk, hope you enjoyed my weird dream-au ramble, if you wanna know more about it feel free to either ask me or ask the character involved XD If you do ask the character please specify that this is from the AU (and preferably whether it's in the middle of it or in the aftermath) so I know who to respond with tho ^-^

I'll be trying to write the other three soon!

#alan becker #animator vs animation #animation vs minecraft #virored au #red #virobots #the dark lord #the chosen one #orange #the second coming #cw mention of death #cw possession #part of why i made this is cause i really wanted to draw the virored design #but if i sent it to anyone without an explanation of the story they'd be confused #but if i sent only one au story that also feels weird #cause i have many #btw if you have any theories on the other three before i write them also pls tell :)

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