#he probably likes to rebuild/fix up/improve the villages too

[hellolulu]

[Damian in the Minecraft server excitedly showing Jon his extensive (and ethical) farms that he made while Jon was banned from Minecraft to focus on studying for tests at school]

Jon: ... yeah, you're so shit at Minecraft. Looks nice though!

Damian: ?! what do you mean? I worked hard on these????

Jon: *sigh* I'll show you what a real Minecraft farm looks like!

[Jon brings him to his "farm" and proudly shows off the fact you cannot tell the pixels apart as there are so many animals in one spot]

Damian: I....... have no words for this. Our friendship is about to end over this. Think of their feelings.

Jon: but this is how you play Minecraft 😭😭 next you're going to tell me you don't even eat the animals at your farm and they're just decorative 😭

Damian: I'M A VEGETARIAN. 😡😡😡😡 I MAKE BREAD. 😡😡😡😡😡😡 LOG BACK OUT. 😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡

[catrasredemption-moved]

if u still take prompts... adora after 2 times where getting love from catra and feeling finally content only for catra and the entire world around her to crumble into pixels, now when she feels safety and happiness with catra she fears it's all fake

I think I understand what you’re getting at, sorry if I get this totally wrong, but it promises to be angst no matter what.

* * * * * * * * *

It had been six months since the end of the war.

Etheria was still rebuilding, although it was in a much better place than it had been. The Fright Zone and Salineas had improved in leaps and bounds (and although she’d never admit it, everyone knew it was because Catra had made both of those personal projects, pulling several all-nighters in a row trying to come up with the best plans for moving forward. Glimmer had presented the Salineas plan to Mermista and waited until construction was well underway to tell her it was all Catra’s idea), and the rest of the planet was coming along well. Bright Moon had almost been restored to its former glory, save for a few wings that needed work, and Shadow Weaver’s damn garden, which no one wanted to touch. Castaspella and Perfuma kept making plans to tackle it together, but there was always something more important that pulled them away.

Unfortunately, rebuilding wasn’t the only thing they had to deal with. Along with the magic came the return of magical creatures that were used to the planet being theirs - sharing wasn’t something they were accustomed to.

“Oooooooooooooowwwwww,” Adora whined, falling back on the ridiculously soft pillows (which she had to admit felt way better when she was injured).

“Aaaawww, did the mighty She-Ra get hurt?” Catra teased, settling in beside her. She had adjusted far more easily to the cushy beds and overstuffed pillows. Then again, Adora had seen her fall asleep in boxes more than once, so it was probably a cat thing.

“No, Adora got hurt, and Adora needs a loving and caring girlfriend.”

“A’right, I’ll see if Bow will let you borrow his.”

Adora laughed, grabbing Catra’s hand and yanking her back. “Smartass. Also you’d probably be better off just getting Bow. Glimmer’s bedside manner isn’t exactly top of the line.”

“Really?” Catra didn’t sound at all surprised by that. She rolled to kiss Adora, purring contently. “Seriously, how’s your shoulder?”

They’d been working out in one of the smaller villages on the edge of the Whispering Woods - just Catra and Adora, because She-Ra hadn’t really seemed necessary. They also hadn’t been expecting a territorial beast to come charging out of the woods, screeching, claws flying. There hadn’t even been time to transform before the claws had dug into Adora’s shoulder, leaving deep gashes that were easily worse than anything Catra had ever done to her, even while she was being controlled by Horde Prime.

That’s going to scar, she thought dizzily as her knees buckled. Catra had shoved her at a villager before running to take the beast out herself.

“I’ll live,” Adora said with a long, dramatic sigh. “I think my arm will even be salvageable.”

“Dramatic.” Catra rolled her eyes, shifting to kiss her again.

“You love me,” Adora murmured into her lips.

“For some reason.”

They sat in the warm, silent moment, enjoying themselves, comfortable, happy.

Then it all went cold.

Adora blinked, opening her eyes. Catra was gone, the bed was gone, the room was gone. She was in blackness, surrounded by green glitches of air. “Catra?” she whispered, scrambling up. Pain burned through her injured arm. “Catra!”

“What’s wrong, Adora?”

She froze, save for her trembling lips. No. The voice was... familiar. Of course it was familiar. She’d know that voice anywhere. If she forgot everything else in her life, she’d always remember that voice. But the pitch, the cadence, they were wrong. 

She turned slowly, breathing shallowly, and her gaze fell on the small form standing a few feet away. Short brown hair slicked back neatly, white, skin-tight uniform clinging to her body, the Horde symbol emblazoned on her chest, eyes staring at her without seeing, blue and amber completely taken over by bright green.

Her voice was small as she whispered, once again, “Catra?”

The puppeted version of the woman she loved stepped closer, arms reaching. “It’s okay, Adora. Everything is okay. We’re in Horde Prime’s light now. Together. Nothing can hurt us now.”

“No.” Adora’s voice cracked. “No. This isn’t right. You’re not - I saved you.”

“But I don’t need to be saved.” Something echoed in her voice; Horde Prime stepped out of the shadows, smiling cruelly, a hand resting on Catra’s shoulder. “No one needs to be saved anymore. We’re all free.”

More figures stepped out of the shadows. Bow and Glimmer. Micah. Perfuma, Scorpia, Mermista, Netossa, Spinerella, Frosta. Sea Hawk. Castaspella. Shadow Weaver. More and more faces she recognized from her adventures, from the Horde, from all the places she had ever been. Adora tried to step away, but they were everywhere. Every face, every blank expression a reminder of her failure.

“You can be free as well, Adora.” Catra stepped forward, arms out again. That blank, expressionless smile was a teasing ghost of the genuine smiles Adora loved. “You can be happy. Be happy with us. With me.”

“No.” Adora stumbled back, almost hyperventilating. “No, Catra, this isn’t real. This isn’t real.” She grabbed Catra’s wrists, holding too tight. Her injured arm screamed in pain. She ignored it. “We won, don’t you remember? We activated the Failsafe, we stopped Horde Prime, we-”

“Adora.” Catra somehow pulled away from Adora’s grip, hands reaching up to hold Adora’s cheeks in a mocking, loving gesture. “You’re confused. It’s okay. We’ll fix you.”

More hands grabbed Adora, pulling her away, fingers gripping her ponytail and holding it out of the way, clearing a way to her neck. Catra’s hands stayed firm on her cheeks the entire time.

“It’s okay, Adora. Everything will be okay.”

“No. Nonononononono, no, Catra, Catra-”

“CATRA!”

Noise exploded all around her. A few voices yelled, a few hands tried to grab her, and one person yelped as her elbow connected with their nose. She went from ice cold to  burning hot, like someone had lit her insides on fire. Her right arm was all but pinned to her chest, piercing pain stabbing her shoulder like dozens of small, fiery daggers. The room was blurry, her eyesight clouded. She saw color blurs moving around her; a couple of purplish figures, one in white - but no red. None of the dark, scarlet color she would have expected to see...

If Catra had been there.

“Adora, please calm down-”

She tried to shove away again, tried desperately to escape the hands. She knew what was happening. They were going to put a chip in her, turn her into another mindless drone, and no no no no no she couldn’t let that happen, she needed to save everyone, she needed to save Catra, she...

There was a small prick in her arm. She was only able to fight for a few more minutes before a blanket of darkness dragged her under.

It was dark when her eyes fluttered open again. The room was quiet, save for a familiar, gentle rumble vibrating against her side. She looked down blearily to see-

Her heart skipped several beats, tears filling her eyes. Catra. Catra pressed against her left side, tail draped across Adora’s legs, arms tucked under her head as she slept, purring loudly. There was a bandage taped to her temple, and a couple more on each arm and one of her legs.

“Adora?”

She jumped slightly, arm moving to rest over Catra as she looked around. Glimmer was standing beside her, hands up in a gesture of peace. “It’s okay,” she said gently. Bow was in a chair next to her, snoring lightly, a bandage across his nose. “It’s just me. You’re okay.”

“W-What...” Her voice cracked, throat dry, and she coughed; Catra shifted slightly, pressing closer to Adora, one arm moving to wrap around her waist. Glimmer poured a glass of water, stepping closer to help Adora drink. “What happened?” she tried again. She was starting to realize, as she became more aware of her body, how absolutely terrible she felt. Every single muscle ached, her right shoulder still hurt, and she still felt overly warm, although no longer on fire.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Glimmer asked, keeping her voice low so she wouldn’t wake either of their sleeping partners.

“Um...” Adora squeezed her eyes shut, trying to think through the haze. “Catra and I were... helping a village?”

“Amroth,” Glimmer confirmed with a nod.

“And something... something attacked. It got me in the shoulder before I could transform...”

Glimmer nodded again as Adora’s voice drifted off. “The monster’s claws had some kind of poison. You got a full dose when it hit you. Catra said you went down pretty fast.”

That part didn’t feel right. Adora narrowed her eyes. She remembered getting hit, but she also remembered Catra taking down the beast, calling Glimmer for an emergency ride back to Bright Moon, the infirmary staff wrapping up her shoulder. She certainly didn’t remember Catra getting hurt at all.

“No.” Her voice shook. This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real. It was another mind trick, Horde Prime was messing with her, she-

“Adora,” Glimmer said firmly, stepping closer. “You were poisoned. You’ve been in and out of consciousness for three days. You’re confused.”

“No, I”m not confused, you’re - you’re lying, this isn’t real, you’re-”

A sudden weight was pressed against Adora’s chest, stopping her short. Catra had moved both arms around her waist now, head tucked under her chin as she purred louder. The sound rumbled through Adora’s chest, calming her racing heart just slightly. Glimmer’s own building panic eased into a smile.

“She said that used to help you when you were sick. You know, in the Horde. She hasn’t left your side since the doctor let her out of her own bed. Actually, I’m not sure if the doctor let her or if she just said screw it and snuck out when he wasn’t looking. Fifty-fifty either way.”

Adora raised a shaking hand to brush her fingers through Catra’s hair; they slid down on her head, resting against the back of her neck, where only the faintest scars remained from the chip. Tears filled her eyes, spilling over as she cried quietly. Her jumping chest stirred Catra out of her sleep. She blinked blearily raising her head.

“Ador - hey, Adora, it’s okay.” Catra scooted closer, reversing their positions so Adora was tucked under her chin instead. “It’s okay, you’re okay. Everything is okay.”

The words didn’t have the effect she was hoping for. Adora cried harder, clinging as hard as she could with one arm. “Please tell me this is real,” she whispered in a choked voice.

“Yeah, absolutely,” Catra said at once. “One hundred percent real.” Fingers brushed through Adora’s long hair. “If it helps, I can tell you how absolutely stupid you are for jumping in front that damn monster without even transforming first, you complete moron.”

Adora laughed weakly into Catra’s chest, loosening her arm just slightly. “Yeah. I think that helps.”

“Good. Because I’m not letting that go any time soon.”

They fell silent, save for the purring that began again, soothing Adora’s fevered mind and allowing her to sleep once more.

Some version of this process repeated itself over the next week, every time Adora woke up. Glimmer and Bow were impressed by how calm and gentle Catra was every single time. Adora would wake up in a panic, clinging to Catra and begging her to assure her she was real, this was real, everything was real. Catra managed to pare it down somewhat to a few questions.

“Catra?”

“Real.”

“We’re in Bright Moon?”

“Real.”

“Horde Prime?”

“Very really dead and very really gone.”

A few moments of silence would always follow. Sometimes Adora would go back to sleep. Sometimes she would ask one last question. “You love me?”

At which point Catra would gently kiss Adora’s overly warm forehead, hugging her close and whispering, “Very, very, very real.”

[deadlyanddelicate]

May 29: Home

[katara/zuko, pre-relationship, 1.8k]

when i see your light shine, i know i’m home

read on AO3

When Zuko goes out to the turtleduck pond for a brief respite between his meetings, he isn’t expecting to find Katara sitting there, her head resting on her folded knees. He knew that she, Sokka, and Aang were going to be travelling back from the South Pole for an upcoming diplomatic conference in Caldera, but he wasn’t sure when they would arrive, and he certainly wasn’t expecting to find Katara just hanging around in the garden. It’s a welcome surprise, though, and he likes that she feels at home here enough to do so.

She spots him and gives him a subdued little wave. Zuko is tired, stiff from spending all day sitting in an uncomfortable chair poring over documents, and in a bad mood – turns out, fixing a country is messy, arduous, endlessly frustrating work – but still, it’s immediately clear to him that something is wrong. The Katara he knows would run up to greet him with a hug.

He gives her a nod in response, and sits down next to her.

“Hey. I didn’t know when you’d be arriving. Did you have safe travels?”

Katara nods. “Everything was fine. We just got here an hour ago. Sokka and Aang are unpacking in their rooms, but they’re not exactly the quiet types, and after a whole day stuck on Appa together, I wanted some peace. Is that okay?”

“Be my guest,” he shrugs. “I mean, I guess you are. Uh. But I mean – metaphorically. I mean you can come here whenever you want. To the pond, that is. And, uh, in general.”

Okay, so social skills have never been his forte. Plus, there’s something about Katara that always has him feeling a little flustered.

“Smooth,” Katara comments dryly.

He shrugs again, pulling out the piece of day-old bread that he had hidden in his sleeve for the turtleducks. “Long day. Lot of talking,” he says, and it’s not even a lie.

Katara hmm’s sympathetically. She doesn’t ask him any questions about the meetings, which he’s honestly grateful for. They sit there in silence for a while as he tears the bread into small pieces. She quietly holds out a hand. He quietly drops some bread pieces onto her open palm. They quietly feed the turtleducks for a few minutes, until the silence becomes too awkward for even Zuko to bear.

“How was home?” he asks. It’s a neutral enough question, yet Katara seems to flinch minutely.

She lets her eyes drift over the water, a far-off look in them; the line of her mouth is worried. “Home,” she murmurs, as if sounding the word out.

After a moment, she seems to shake herself off with some difficulty. “Home was good. It was great,” she smiles. Zuko isn’t fooled. That’s her “caretaker Katara” smile, the one she plasters on when she’s hiding her troubles because she thinks she needs to worry about everyone else.

“Katara,” he says, firmly but not unkindly. “What’s wrong?”

It’s a testament to how bothered the waterbender is that she caves immediately, her face crumpling into a picture of unhappiness.

“It’s just… you know how the Northern Tribe was going to send people over to help us rebuild?”

Zuko nods. “Did they not keep their promise?”

Katara looks down, almost embarrassed. “No, they did. That’s kind of the problem. They’ve done a great job and spared no effort. They’ve built bigger homes and palaces and fortifications. Everything looks... different now.”

The way she says it, with no excitement at all, indicates she doesn’t see this as an improvement.

“And that’s... bad?” Zuko nudges.

She shrugs. “I suppose it’s not. Sokka was losing his mind over it. He was over the moon - no pun intended. He thinks it’s amazing, all the– the architecture and mechanics and progress.”

“But you feel differently?” Zuko ventures.

“No, no,” Katara hurries to say, with a guilty expression. Then, after biting her lip for a second, she admits. “Well… yes. It’s just… it looks nothing like the village I grew up in. All the igloos are gone. Gran-gran’s home. The otter-penguin cliff. The snow wall that Sokka built. And there are so many new faces – a lot of Northerners moved down South permanently. Which… is good, I know it’s good,” she sighs. “I don’t want our tribe to die out. I know this will help them. I just…”

She looks up at him, her expressive blue eyes filled with sadness. “I feel like I never really went back home. The place I remembered is just… gone.”

He doesn’t know what to say, but his heart hurts for her. He knows all too well what it’s like to long for a place you can never go back to. But he doesn’t want to dismiss her pain by sharing his own; sometimes, he has learned the best thing you can do is just listen.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “It must have been hard to lose your childhood home.”

She takes a ragged breath in, hugging her knees to herself as if she’s cold (which she never is, not in the Fire Nation anyway). One of her hands trails over the water, drawing lazy circles in it – drawing comfort from her element, Zuko thinks.

“Aang doesn’t get it,” she says, a little sadly. “He’s a nomad. He thinks home can just be everywhere. He doesn’t believe in material attachments. But I just…” she shakes her head. “I don’t know why I can’t let it go. But I just can’t.”

“I understand,” Zuko rasps. Katara looks up at him, a little surprised – but of course he understands. When has he ever been able to let go of his home?

“It is not a bad thing,” he says, carefully, “to have strong roots. Some people are able to leave their history behind; others carry it with them wherever they go. You are a daughter of the Southern Water Tribe. It is forever carved within you.” He gestures at her necklace, and she touches the carved ivory almost subconsciously. “I am a son of the Fire Nation, and I always knew that. Even when my home had lost its way, I knew I couldn’t forget who I was. It doesn’t make you a bad person, Katara. It isn’t selfish to know who you are.”

Some of the sadness seems to lift off of her, but she still looks troubled. “Yeah, but where does that leave me then? My dad has settled back down and is so committed to our new home. And Sokka, well, he spends more time on Kyoshi Island now than back at the Pole anyway. But where does that leave me? Where do I go if I can never go back home?”

Here, part of him wants to say. You could stay here with me. He has missed Katara a lot – her strength, her kindness, her relentless optimism. Often he thinks that with her by his side, trying to steer his kingdom the right way wouldn’t be quite so hard. But he knows that’s not the answer she needs. He sits in silence for a few moments, tossing some breadcrumbs to the turtleducks. He wishes he was better at this. He wishes he could channel Uncle Iroh and know exactly what to say.

“If it helps,” he begins after a while, “Sometimes I feel like I never came back home either. I know it’s not the same as your village – the Palace was still pretty much the way I left it – well, perhaps a little bit more, uh, burnt down–” he fumbles, but it’s alright, because it draws a chuckle out of her. He wonders if she’s remembering it too, their fight against Azula.

“But what I mean is,” he tries again, “It was not the way I remembered it. I came back home, but it wasn’t the home I missed. Sure, it’s the same city, the same palace. But my mother wasn’t here. Most of my family is imprisoned. My uncle went back to Ba Sing Se.” And you guys left, he stops himself from saying. He knows he has no right to keep them here, but Agni, he misses his friends like a phantom limb. Who knew, he wonders, that there could be friendship like this out there?

“I guess what I’m saying is – maybe home doesn’t need to be the place you grew up in. Maybe home could be the people you grew into yourself with.”

He’s still not sure if that was the right thing to say, but then Katara smiles at him, a soft, bright smile, like the sun coming out from the clouds (and if his heart skips a beat in his chest, well, nobody needs to know).

“I think I like that idea,” she murmurs. “Thank you, Zuko.” Then her smile turns into a teasing grin: “Look at you, being all wise and stuff! Trying to steal Iroh’s shtick?”

“Ha ha,” Zuko says flatly, putting on an obligingly grumpy face, which makes Katara laugh again. He’s not sure if it’s with him or at him, but he doesn’t really mind as long as she’s not looking sad anymore.

“I mean it though,” she says, turning serious again. “Thank you. Maybe it’s okay that my home has changed, as long as I have Sokka and Dad and Gran-gran. And now I also have Aang, and Toph, and, well–” she flushes ever so slightly as she speaks “--you.”

He supposes it shouldn’t be so unexpected – they did save the world together after all – but it still takes him by surprise, flooding his heart with warmth. Katara considers him home. Suddenly, his day doesn’t feel so heavy and tedious anymore. He’s going to hold this thought with him through his last council, and well into the night.

He gets up, brushing breadcrumbs off his robes. “I should probably go. Will I see you at dinner?”

“Oh, I don’t know, am I invited to share the mighty Fire Lord’s repast?” she teases.

He rolls his eyes dramatically. “Not with that attitude, you’re not.” She sticks her tongue out at him, then laughs again, finally sounding back to her old self.

He’s about to turn to leave when she calls for him: “Hey, Zuko?”

“Yeah?”

“You know that the same goes for you, right?”

He frowns, feeling like he’s missed a step. “I don’t get dinner with my attitude?”

She rolls her eyes at him, but he can tell she’s amused. “No, you doofus. I mean that – you know – if you ever need a little piece of home… well, I’m here.” She smiles, her cheeks going slightly pink. “I just mean… well, I hope you know– I can be. Home, I mean. For you. If that’s what you want.” It’s fascinating to see her be the one fumbling for a change, but Zuko can’t even make fun of her for it, because suddenly his throat feels very tight.

“Yeah,” he chokes out, inadequate as always, but he hopes Katara knows what he means. He thinks she does. He swallows, willing the lump to go down, and clears his throat.

“I’ll see you at dinner, then.” He bows slightly.

She nods at him, a small, fond smile on her lips. “I’ll see you at home.”

[sburbian-denizens]

Land of Storms and Isles

A Land for @thricequeen, a Mage of Breath

A Land of a thousand isles and a vast ocean. The planet is best described as a massive ocean world with a few notable archipelagos scattered upon its surface, clusters of a few hundred islands each. These archipelagos (known as Enclaves to the Consorts) are divided by large stretches of ocean, though the islands they contain are packed tight. So tight that many of the islands are connected by bridges. Each island is unique in their own way, with some harboring a unique species of animal or plant, others being home to strange formations of natural rock, and still more hide the remains of lost civilizations within themselves, waiting for someone to find them.

The Consorts are a diverse bunch, with each Enclave the settle having a completely different social code, hierarchy, and traditions, though all Consorts within all Enclaves have one thing in common (besides their species anyway). They are all completely loyal to their homes and cultures, with each and every one of them willing to die for their homeland and traditions. This complete loyalty, combined with the inevitable cultural differences between each Enclave, make it so that the various groups of Consorts do not get along with one another for the most part. A few notable Enclaves have been known to get along, either at the demands of their traditions or because of their similarities, though such cases are. Thankfully enough most of non-friendly Enclaves have avoided coming to blows, with the few exceptions being notable outliers, though this happens mostly because those Enclaves are isolationist in nature. The massive distances that happen to divide each of the archipelagos help with this isolation.

Then the Denizen was hired by Derse, and he did as was requested because Skaia told him to.

The Denizen has unleashed a large number of wind elementals within the Land’s atmosphere. The very presences of these beings are increasing the wind activity within the Land, causing the gales to blow harder and inciting an increase in storm activity. This results in the planet becoming plagued with deadly storms and cyclones. Most of the Enclaves have been hit by at least one such storm and suffered grave damages as a result. And the winds promise to become worse by the day.

Gale Force Winds

The Denizen has created a large number of wind elementals, releasing all of them into the open sky. As literal ‘physical’ incarnations of Breath itself, the elementals incite a surge in their Aspect with their very presence, usually in the forms of strong gales and violent windstorms. Especially when a lot of them gather in one place. Despite this, the elementals are actually quite friendly, with the increased wind activity being an unintentional (and, to them, unnoticed) side effect of their existence.

The good news is, the increase in wind activity is basically just the Breeze ‘balancing it’s pressure’. As pure Breath acts like actual air (which is to say, it wants to go wherever it pleases but it is easier to go to places where there are less than itself from a place where more of itself resides than vice versa) it has simply been flooding from the elementals (which are basically large concentrations of Breath stuffed in a living container) into the planet (which possesses relatively little Breath) causing the storms. Which is actually one of the least damaging ways Breath could have manifested. This means that, eventually, the pressures of the planet and elementals would reach an equilibrium and the Land would go back to normal, albeit with a slightly windier atmosphere.

The bad news is that that may well take ages to happen. And the Consorts are still in danger in the present timeframe. The elementals can’t be killed, as even without the moral implications of such an action the elementals are nigh impossible to harm and/or kill permanently. Plus that might just release all the Breath they contain into the planet, which would probably make things worse. Killing the Denizen would also solve little, as even with his death the elementals (and all the pure Breath they contain and have already released) would still remain.

The best course of action would be to move the Consorts to a safe location to wait for the storms to blow over and hope things turn out well. In this case, such a safe location would probably be somewhere beneath the seas or ground, as the storms obviously can’t reach all the way down there.

Such a change of location may not bode well with the traditionalist Consorts.

Evacuation Commences

Convincing the Consorts to go underground would be… difficult to say the least. Even the most adventurous among them would be hesitant to leave their homes, especially in this time of crisis. They would be reluctant to leave behind their homes to be devastated by storms, as they are all loyal to their cultures to the end. They would want to stay until the very last moment because… because leaving behind everything that you are familiar with is hard. It’s turning your back on everything in your past, on everything you’ve done, on everything you and your friends and family have built.

Someone would simply need to ask them if their culture is really worth dying for, would it not be worth living for.

No matter what happens, no matter if they leave or stay, the storms would destroy the Enclaves, with the strongest of them even sinking the islands in their entirety. And if that happens, they would simply be another lost civilization, another Enclave whose Consorts were too stubborn to leave.

It would be better if they were to live, to remember all that they have done, all that they have accomplished. To rebuild all that they have lost, and have it continue to survive for years to come.

Once the storms have blown over, the Consorts would have a lot ahead of them, fixing everything that’s been broken. Rebuilding all that is lost. But in the end, the Consorts would find themselves better for it.

But before all of that, the Mage would have to meet up with their Denizen within the sky. They would have to make a Choice. A Choice that would reverberate far into the Consorts future.

Locations

The Vagrant - A small ship the Mage would find upon the shores of their island. It's designed clearly marks it as being created by the Ancient Enclaves, perhaps as part of some sort of prophecy. They didn’t seem to finish on time if the schematics of it found in the ruins are any indication. Its insides, though quite barren, are about large enough to function as a mobile home for the Mage throughout their journey. As the Mage explores their Land they would be able to upgrade the Vagrant more and more, both with the Consorts help and with artifacts salvaged from the Sunken Cities. Most additions to the craft have to do with travel and movement, mostly along the lines of speed boosts, resisting environmental effects, and transformations into other modes of travel. Though other types of upgrades, such as turret emplacements and increased cargo space, also exist. Some of these things appear to have been features of the vessel that the Ancients had no time to implement, and had thus sealed away for the Mage to install by themselves. Others are improvements some of the various Consorts can give to the vessel, what these improvements are and what they look like largely depends on the Clade and Enclave that this Consort came from.

Cultured Enclaves - The homelands of the Consorts. The Enclaves the Consorts live is many and varied, with most having quite a few similarities with the various cultures within the Mage’s homeworld and many stranger cultures besides. Some of them mimic eastern or western cultures, still more share resemblances to ancient civilizations (be they respected or feared), some even mimic the structures of fictional civilizations, or create a whole new culture from a patchwork of all of them. All of them stand proudly with whole cities (or villages) made as a homage to various parts of their traditions. Though unfortunately, some of these majestic settlements have been destroyed by the rampant storm winds, and every other seems to have taken minor amounts of damage as well. Each of these Enclaves could provide an upgrade for the Vagrant, with some even offering several. These upgrades are inevitably themed towards the cultures of the Consorts who live there, and taking too many of them would make for a strange vessel indeed. Still, it’s quite a bit easier than scouring whole cities for an upgrade, and certain Enclaves even offer unique improvements only they can provide

Tornado Alley - The broken remains of the cities the Consorts have lost. All of them are now home to intense gusts of wind and the occasional miniature tornado. Oh, and also Underlings. Can’t forget the Underlings. For some reason the Underlings are all themed after various monsters and demons within the culture of the Enclave they are located in, granting an eclectic mix of enemies from all manner of civilizations. The Alleys are a sad sight, with all the structures that the Consorts were once so proud of now nothing more than a ruin. Some parts of the Alleys are just ruins, or others are flooded over, still, more have been scorched by several lightning strikes. The Mage would most likely be entering these ‘alleys’ as soon as a storm has finished ravaging it, to search for survivors and to salvage all that they can.

Sunken Cities - Ancient cities of Consort societies now long gone, their Enclaves having sunk along with them. These cities are often found underwater, within the stretches of ocean between the still existent Enclaves, though some of their islands can rise back up from time to time, either permanently or temporarily, placing these ruins in subterranean areas, upon mysterious deserted islands, or islands that surface for only a specific day of the week. The underground Cities, in particular, would serve well as a bunker to wait out the storms. There are signs that these Ancient Enclaves were a lot more connected to one another, indicated by identical artifacts found in most of them, perhaps proof that once upon a time, the islands were one continent. Most of these cities hide hoards of ancient-yet-somehow-advanced-technologies and are often infested with Underlings. They are a great place to locate obscure and advanced upgrades for the Vagrant. The upgrades such ruins have to offer are usually quite advanced, and much better than any the modern Consorts can provide, though much rarer as a consequence.

Cloud Palace - The place upon which the Denizen rests. He has used his mastery over the winds to create a whole palace in the skies, a mighty castle made of storms clouds and lightning. Locating it is quite simple, as it is always above the eye of the largest lightning storm within the Land, a consequence of most of the wind elementals preferring to stay at their ‘birthplace’ or returning there after a while. The storm the palace is located above is crackling with lightning and the presence of a large number of wind elementals have spawned massive cyclones that wander near the eye. The Mage would have to modify the Vagrant to fly, withstand gale force winds, and to protect them from lightning strikes to actually enter this palace. Once inside the palace, the Mage would be protected from anymore lighting strikes by the Denizen’s will, and would be able to interact with the clouds the place is made of as if they are solid matter. The Denizen is awaiting the Mage’s arrival within the inner sanctum of the palace.

Denizen

Notus, the South Wind - Anemoi of Summer Storms. Notus has unleashed hundreds of wind elementals upon the land, causing an imbalance within the planet’s Breeze that is the cause of the storms. Notus is as furious and temperamental as the storms he has caused within the Land, and dealing with can prove to be quite tiring. Still, he is willing to aid the Mage in their Quest, should they Choose to ask for it. While he cannot simply force the Breath he has released to simply return to the elementals (as Breath is notoriously impossible to coerce or control) he can ‘convince’ it to calm the fuck down for a bit, allowing the equilibrium to be regained faster and for some of the storms on the planet to calm or even die out entirely. Still, Breath is one to simply do as it pleases, who knows how long Notus’ influence would last.

[umbrahighpriestofgiratina]

Heroes After All Chapter 1

This fic is rated a hard Teen for death, blood, mild gore, vomiting, and adults doing adult things like drinking, swearing, and having heavily implied offscreen... ahem. This... This is a fic I've been meaning to write for far too long. In developing it there was a lot of blood and sweat and tears before I finally decided to stop making excuses and, as the meme goes, just do it. Because from deep within the bottom of my heart this is a story very personally important to me. This is based heavily on the lore introduced in the eighth Pokemon movie, but said movie is very much not required viewing for this fic, as I'm basically rebuilding everything from the ground up. So enjoy! What I'm looking for feedback on: Characters, worldbuilding, plot, what i'm doing right, what to improve upon in future chapters, that kind of thing What i'm not looking for feedback on: Prose, description, etc. other than typos I can fix easily. Feedback on that end has gotten repetitive and frustrating and don't worry I'm working on it. That said you're free to ignore this if it means you wouldn't review. Feedback is feedback. :V

Heroes After All

Foreword This is one of the greatest love stories our world has ever known. Not a ROMANTIC love story though. One between friends. A human and a Pokemon, destined to meet and do great things. The famous parts have been told many times before with a few... additions but I figured I'd start from the very beginning. Who am I and why am I qualified to tell this story you say? Name's Polly Pteryx and let's say I was involved... Chapter 1: Introductions Somewhere in Johto, around 2005 After Skybreak (around 1000 years before the present) A blue-haired, blue-eyed boy dressed in simple clothes was reaching for a ball stuck in a tree. No dice. He sighed and started climbing up. He was almost there. He could almost feel it in his fingers. Then he slipped. He fell, and something glowed with power in his throat. He let out a yell, and the yell turned into a sonic boom that echoed all around. Then he landed, with a thud, leaving the boy panting in exhaustion on his back. He lay there a while, waiting for one of the village's adults to find him, when he heard a strange noise. He weakly turned his head and saw a yellow Pokemon with small wings and a drill-like tail staring intently at him. "H-Hello?" the boy said softly. The Dunsparce hissed and used its tail to bury itself underground in reply. The boy sighed and slowly started to get to his feet when he noticed a young woman approaching his location. The woman was blonde with green eyes and was wearing strange clothing unfamiliar to the boy, a uniform with what seemed to be a two-part coat and a wide-brimmed hat with a spiky end and decorated with a symbol resembling three claw marks arranged in a triangular fashion. Upon further notice she also carried a staff of some sort in her left hand, both hands being gloved. The boy backed away from her quickly. "Y-you aren't from the village, miss..." The woman blinked, then sighed and put a hand to her forehead. "Kid, look, I'm not here to hurt you. You had a nasty enough fall there." The boy stood and stared at her before tilting his head. "How do you know about the fall?" He yelped as the Dunsparce from earlier slithered up from behind him and up to rest at the woman's feet. "My Dunsparce told me. Don't worry, she's friendly... If a bit odd." The Dunsparce nodded in affirmation to both statements. "She... did?" said the boy. He looked up at the woman in wonder. "You can talk to Pokemon?" ~Yep. Like this.~ The boy jumped, looked at the woman in bewilderment, then looked around wildly. That was her voice, but her mouth hadn't moved at all, where- ~Kid, it's me. I'm talking to you with my head, it's called telepathy.~ The boy looked up at her again, eyes widening. "You.. You..." The woman gave a small smile. "Kid, you aren't the only one out there with 'magic powers'." The boy grinned, and bounced up and down excitedly. "You have powers like I do! And you're big and strong and that means I'm not a freak! Like, I can do the talaplethy thing too!" He closed his eyes and scrunched his face in. ~Se... wh... mea...~ He stopped, opened his eyes, panted profusely, then looked up at the woman with a nervous chuckle and grin. "I-I'm still working on it, miss..." The woman raised an eyebrow. "...I can tell." The Dunsparce gave a "sparce" and a snicker-like hiss before the woman nudged her with her boot. "But wait, you've got better powers than I do," said the boy, "and you've got that really nice outfit..." His eyes lit up. "You're a wizard!" The woman blinked. "I'm a what?" She blinked and sighed with a hand to her head again as what the boy said more fully clicked. "Kid, no no no, not really, I'm an Aura Guardian. A group of people with powers like us. This outfit - the hat, the coat, the boots the staff the cape - that's our uniform. She gestured to her "coat". "...Well on my end, I had to convince them to make the cape an extension of my coat since it suited my fighting style better..." "You fight evildoers?!" said the boy, jumping up and down in excitement. "Wha-" The woman shook her head. "When we need to yes, whenever they threaten the peace of civilians or those on the Auri-" She threw her hands up in the air and groaned. "Kid, I'd already been on patrol duty long enough both time and distance-wise before I found you. I can answer all your little questions later. Right now I've got a question for you - where the hell are your parents?" The boy blinked, then shuffled a bit. "Me and my mom live further in the village. I used to have a dad but..." He shook his head. "You can still see my mom, though! Follow me!" He started running off. The woman headed after, her Dunsparce slithering and fluttering after. ------ A different woman with blue hair and blue eyes like the boy's was tending to her house when she heard a knocking at her door. She opened it to see said boy and the blonde woman standing before her. "Ma'am?" said the latter, clenching her right fist and crossing it over her chest. "Poly Pteryx of the Genesis Mountain Aura Guardians. I'm here about your son's... condition." The boy's mother gave a small gasp but moved to let Polly and her own son in, giving a small yelp as the Dunsparce slithered in after then rushing over to her son and hugging him. "Dear, are you OK?! Did something happen?!" "Yeah Mom, the bullies put my ball in a tree and I fell trying to get it, but then this lady and her Dunsparce came to help!" "Oh, ma'am, I can't thank you enough!" Polly nodded. "You're welcome. But your son's power is still something to be discussed." "...Go on?" "Well, let him have a say first. Kid, what happened when you fell?" The boy thought for a second. "Well... I got scared and something in my chest started moving and I screamed so loud it exploded!" The boy's mother blinked. Polly nodded. "That sounds about what my Dunsparce told me probably happened. She can pick up a lot by scent and vibrations." Her Dunsparce gave a hiss and "Dun!" of gratitude. Polly turned to the boy's mother. "Your boy has one hell of an Auric Scream." His mother blinked. "Auric what?" Polly sighed. "Your son has power over the force known as Aura that flows through every living thing. All Pokemon can tap into it to some extent, but only a rare few humans, like your son..." She rolled up her sleeve to let a pink, scythelike blade of energy extend from a slit in the middle of her glove around her ulna. "...And me." The boy, enraptured, moved a bit closer to the blade. Polly quickly noticed and dissipated it. "Careful, kid, that thing's sharp. I'm on the quadrant with powers closest to a Psychic-type Pokemon, that thing's basically my equivalent of a Psycho Cut." The boy shifted again. "Sorry, ma'am..." He immediately perked up. "Wait, what does that mean I have? Dragon type powers? Steel type powers?" Polly frowned slightly. "Sorry kid, they sadly aren't quite that varied in us humans. Tell you what, if you want to find out, why don't you try making something with your powers like I did?" The boy beamed, and cupped his hands, only to notice all three of his mother, Polly, and Polly's Dunsparce moving back noticeably. "...Why are you all doing that?" "I-It's so we have a good view, sweetie!" said his mother. ~Nice save,~ said Polly to her telepathically. D-Don't get in my head like that! ~You're welcome.~ The boy concentrated, grit his teeth as a ball of blue-green energy formed between his hands and grew larger and larger until- It exploded. The house rattled, the mother flinched and yelped as a pot fell off a table and shattered right next to her. The boy was blown back, knocked to the floor and lay there breathing heavily a while before muttering: "...I'm OK..." "Well," said Polly. "There we have it." She turned to the boy's mother again. "Your son has the most potential with the brand of Aura closest to that of Fighting types I've ever seen in someone his age; that would've been a damn good approximation of a Focus Blast if he'd managed to fully charge it." She looked back to the boy and furrowed her brow. "...The bad news is he also has the least refined powers of anyone on that part of the power spectrum I've ever seen." The boy's mother blinked. "And that means...?" "We can train him." "...What?" "The Aura Guardians seek to hone the potential of everyone with the power of the Wave to live their lives to the fullest. That includes your son." "I..." The boy's mother paused. "I... I'm not sure what to do... After we lost Issac..." "Mom... I... I want to." The boy's mother turned to see him getting to his feet. "If they're gonna accept my powers... Make me stronger... I want them to help me. His mother stared, then nodded and smiled. Polly smiled as well. "Good; we'll get you up to the monastery in a few months." Her brow furrowed again. "Though... Geez, sorry it slipped my mind until now, but what's your name, kid?" The boy smiled softly. "It's Aaron!" ------------ The forest was dim at sunset; the Pidgey and Starly were retreating to their roosts as the Hoothoot and Murkrow were emerging from theirs. Amid it all, however, in a small clearing, one avian Pokemon stayed groundbound and vigilant - A Blaziken with an X-shaped scar on his forehead watching over a small, blue-and-black egg nestled in a shallow burrow. The Blaziken raised his haunches as he sensed something approaching, but relaxed upon his sharp eyes seeing it was a familiar female Lucario and gave a beaky smile. "...Hey honey. It's not your turn yet." "I know, Ginji," said the female Lucario, "I just wanted to check in." "Well, I think it's doing all right... I don't have Flame Body or Magma Armor or anything, but I'm keeping it warm." He stood up and looked at her, rubbing the back of his head. "Though, could you use those Aura powers of yours to check? Mine are only good for ol' punches and kicks and such..." She nodded, her eyes closing and the feelers on the back of her head raising as she focused on the egg. She suddenly opened her eyes and gasped. "It's close! Very close! It could hatch any-" "Hey!" said a third voice, "Sis, you're supposed to be on hunting du-" The source of the voice, a second, male Lucario, entered the clearing and sneered at Ginji. "Why are you with him right now?" She scowled back. "He's my mate. Our egg is about to hatch." The male Lucario rolled his eyes. "Right. Tell that hybrid thing when it hatches it's no more a real part of our pack than his wingless chicken-eagle of a fa-" He was cut off mid sentence by said chicken-eagle standing right in front of him, looming over him and giving his own scowl. "Okay, listen, buddy," said Ginji. "You nepotist canines can literally dogshit on me anytime you want normally, but me and my mate are having an important moment here. So fuck off, unless you want all that Taurosshit about me being a threat to the pack to not be such Taurosshit for you specifically." The second Lucario backed away, stooped with raised haunches, and gave a defiant snarl before dashing off. "G-Ginji..." said the female. "He's going to tell the others about this..." "Eh, they always come up with something, this makes zilch difference," he said. "Let's just focus on-" Suddenly, they heard a loud cracking. The two rushed over just in time for the egg to fall apart and reveal a small, undeveloped and yipping Riolu pup, its eyes closed. "They made it!" said the female Lucario. "We did it!" "Heh, we did! Now let's check on the little fella more closely..." He scooped up the yipping pup in his foretalons and held him up to inspect his hindquarters. "It looks like a male. We might find out otherwise later, but for now he's our little boy." The female Lucario smiled and looked up to Ginji. "Will he have a human name like yours?" "I'm debating it. Might be a good idea, might not be." The Riolu pup snuggled up to Ginji's chest as he gave another beaky smile. "For now, I don't care what the rest of this pack says. This little guy's going places." ***

And there we have it, a story I am very glad to finally get out there. For now updates are gonna be... monthly to bimonthly-ish, alternating with Rude Awakening until that's completed, allowing me to devote to this story completely on the chapterfic front.

...

This feels so hecking good.

[junker-town]

What baseball would be talking about if the first half didn’t exist

Baseball’s second half never gets as much attention as the first half. Let’s fix that.

Welcome back to another installment of “If the First Half Didn’t Exist,” an annual tradition that serves two purposes. The first is to remind you that we pay far, far too much attention to everything that happens in the first half of the season. The other is to acknowledge that we might not pay enough attention to what’s been happening in the second half of the season. The first half of every season disproportionately shapes our opinions of the entire season.

This is a way of pointing out what would seem important to us if the season started on July 13. Who would be the MVP front runners? Which teams would be building an insurmountable divisional lead? What would baseball be talking about, and how easy would it be for this information to color how we look at the entire season?

Well, let’s find out.

Sample headline if the first half didn’t exist:

The AL West is the best divisional race in baseball, but the Angels could run away with it

I want to sit here and plead caution and restraint. I want to remind you that we’ve played just under a couple months, and we don’t know anything yet, really.

Except that the Angels are the best team in the AL West.

Sure, they’re just 1½ games ahead of the Rangers and two games ahead of both the Astros and Mariners, and the Pythagorean record suggests that’s absolutely correct. The Angels have allowed far fewer runs than anyone in the division, and they’re on pace to win 91 games. That can change in a bad week, or even with one bad series, but ask yourself these questions:

Is C.J. Cron for real?

Was Luis Valbuena the sneakiest great signing of the offseason?

Is Andrelton Simmons able to keep his 759 OPS up?

If you can answer all of those in the affirmative, you have to be curious about just what this Angels team can accomplish, considering that their starting pitching has been an obvious weakness that they can improve at the deadline. The bullpen has been dominant, with Yusmeiro Petit and Blake Parker forming an unlikely shutdown core, and there’s already good news for the rotation with Garrett Richards coming back.

Sample headline if the first half didn’t exist:

The Cubs and Indians are still the best teams in baseball, just like we expected

We were spoiled with one of the greatest World Series ever last year, a mash-up of the logical and illogical, but there was just one tiny problem. The Cubs were at full strength, and the Indians were not. That’s not to cheapen the Cubs’ accomplishment, but a simple fact that reminds us that the transcendent World Series could have been something even more. The Indians at full strength, with a deep arsenal of starting pitching that’s the envy of baseball, were as terrifying as the Cubs at full strength.

And it looks like those two teams are on a collision course again.

The Cubs aren’t much of a surprise. They were the best team in baseball last year; they’re the best team in baseball this year (unless you’re partial to those FanGraphs projections that had the Dodgers being three games better, which lol). The Indians, though, were never a guarantee to get their pitchers back healthy.

They did, though, and they brought all of their hitters along. Both teams have the best records in their respective leagues, and here we go again. There are some other teams that will have something to say about that, of course. The Nationals have the same record as the Cubs, for example, and the Dodgers, Cardinals, and Diamondbacks aren’t too far behind. But it sure feels like we’re heading for a repeat of last year’s amazing Fall Classic.

I’m okay with that.

Sample headline if the first half didn’t exist:

The world owes us a Giancarlo Stanton/Rhys Hopkins Home Run Derby

Aaron Judge Rhys Hoskins is the flavor of the month, the rookie who looks like two Mark McGwires in a trenchcoat trying to sneak into an R-rated movie, a generic slugger out of central casting, and I can respect why everyone is excited. He’s new and he’s fresh, and he looks like someone was screwing with the sliders in the create-a-player setting.

Giancarlo Stanton seems like the Aaron Judge Rhys Hoskins of Christmas past, the T-800 to Judge’s Hoskins’ T-1000. That almost rings true, except Judge Hoskins is just two three years younger. Stanton is also an admittedly a much larger ogre, who is just as eager to flay and skin baseballs so that they will tell the other baseballs what happened to them. Stanton has done what Hoskins Judge is doing, but for much longer.

If there is justice in the universe, Stanton and Judge Hoskins will meet in the Home Run Derby final, and they’ll be responsible for folktales that are told after the collapse of civilization. Both of them consume whole goats as villagers throw stones at them, and it’s only fair if we get to watch them in the Home Run Derby, sending ball after ball into the spinning-marlin wormhole while kids run into each other below. Let this be one of your baseball wishes for the 2017 season.

Sample headline if the first half didn’t exist:

The Yankees should trade for Khris Davis

The Yankees are rolling again, seemingly ahead of schedule on the great reload-and-rebuild plan that has tripped up so many other franchises along the way. They’re pitching, which means they’re contending, and they’re even getting contributions from Chase Headley, who’s leading the team in OPS. Gary Sanchez is raking, Didi Gregorius continues to be a star ... it’s hard to be mad at the franchise when they pull this stuff every year.

There’s one problem, though: Their outfield is a light-hitting mess. Jacoby Ellsbury is doing fine, but his defense is slipping. Brett Gardner’s defense is fine, but his bat is slipping. And Aaron Judge is a mess who’s almost certainly going to be sent down.

The answer is right in front of them. Khris Davis is predictably thumping again, with 15 homers in a park that usually isn’t the most hitter-friendly. He fits the new Yankee Stadium like a glove, and Gardner’s arm is probably strong enough for right field. He’s under contract for two more years, too, which would help the Yankees as they ease into the future with prospects like Clint Frazier.

As to what the A’s would want, it seems like there’s a natural fit, here. If Aaron Judge’s ultimate ceiling is as a Khris Davis clone, why not agree to a one-for-one swap? The A’s get the extra years of team control, while the Yankees get the power they covet from Judge, but they don’t have to spend the rest of the season waiting for it to arrive.

Sometimes a trade comes along that makes too much sense. This is one of those times.

Sample headline if the first half didn’t exist:

Is Odubel Herrera the best player in the National League?

One of the oldest, purest questions in baseball has been effectively ruined by Mike Trout. “Who’s the best player in baseball?” has given way to “Who’s the second-best player in baseball,” and that’s no fun.

Except we have a challenger this year in Giancarlo Stanton, who has 27 home runs in just 186 at-bats, good for a 1186 OPS. That’s a performance that’s outstanding enough to start the conversation, at least. Has Stanton caught Trout?

And that’s where I sneak in with a surprise hot take: I’m thinking even Odubel Herrera might be better than Stanton.

It’s a bold call, considering the power surge that Stanton has been using the melt the NL, but consider Herrera’s defense, his position, his speed. Now look at his .381/.444/.673 line and parse just what that means. It’s a slash line that offers contact, patience, and power, all in the complete package of a player who can zip around the bases and the outfield.

It’s early. Charlie Blackmon has a similar line (albeit in Coors Field), and what Stanton is doing can’t be dismissed that easily. But no one would click on an article titled “Odubel Herrera Is On Another Level,” so this will have to do. The answer to the question posed in the headline is probably “no,” which would make Ian Betteridge happy, but I’m keeping an eye on this one. The Phillies have been looking for an offensive cornerstone, and early in this season, it looks like they’ve found two. Herrera just might be the best of them all.

Sample headline if the first half didn’t exist:

Man, the Giants suck

The Giants have had an awful start to the season, but here are 43 different reasons why everything should go much better for them soon:

1. Their players are mostly underperforming according to ZiPS, and that should ...

Remember this as we head into the postseason. The players we thought were magic, might not be. The teams that looked impervious might not be, and the teams that look impervious right now still had their rough stretches, which is why they’re not threatening the 2001 Mariners.

And, really, what is the postseason but baseball’s third half? I’ll see you in a month to write up “What baseball would be talking about if the first and second halves didn’t exist,” except I’ll call it “writing about the postseason.” Can’t wait.