#i hope we get to see more of them in paragon!! i think the red chain only took away their powers so ..they’ll live ❤️ (i think) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

starlightshadowsworld · 1 year ago

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So in comics there's definitely been and are characters that everyone just agrees that they have to die.

And stay dead.

Think of Thomas and Martha Wayne, Uncle Ben etc.

Now these have changed from what they were initially

After Death in the Family, Jason Todd was supposed to stay dead.

And he did, for 17 years before coming back as the Red Hood.

Like there was a fake out in Batman: Hush that it was Jason and it was wild.

Bucky Barnes, also meant to stay dead and did so for 37 years.

... 37?!

Before becoming the Winter Soilder.

And these aren't in universe years, this is real world time.

Now it's hard to imagine them not wandering about.

So I'm trying to think what 3 characters I think should stay dead.

At least for the forcible future.

And who's dead that should be bought back.

Staying dead: Jason Grace (Percy Jackson: Heroes of Olympus.)

Yeah... I know.

I love him I'm still holding out hope he will return but I don't think it's coming.

I say think because... Leo.

Jason Grace is the perfect example of, I followed the rules, I did everything I was supposed to and I still lost everything.

He's the perfect soilder, the paragon of heroism and he fell sacrificing himself to save his friends.

I think it's best if Jason stays dead because his death is used to show the fragility of human life.

Of the harrowing lives demigods lead.

His final words are punctuated by him staring at Lester, Apollo in his eyes as he's stabbed.

And telling him to remember.

Remember what you saw, remember the way my life drained from eyes.

Remember this day, and know I'm not the first nor the last.

It's such a powerful moment.

Especially because Apollo gets to know Jason and is hit throughout the book that Jason is so young.

That he's just a kid.... that they all are.

Demigods aren't promised happy endings.

Most don't live to be adults, and it's perfectly and tragically shown perfectly through Jason's death.

He just got the life he wanted, found out Leo's alive... And than in a moment it was all gone.

Also, for Jason who's served 14 years at 16, he deserves to rest a while.

Coming back to life: Summer Rose (RWBY)

Didnt see that coming, I was very much on the "Oh my gosh can we not... Can she just stay dead" train.

Now look at me.

To be fair we know more than we did than and I am really interested to know what happened to Summer.

What happened to STRQ in general to be honest.The tragic death that no one speaks of.

Who's events seem to be only known by Summer herself.

And with the rise of Grimm like the Hound, a beast made of both grimm and silver eyed warriors.

With the note from Ruby and Yang that Summer could have been the turning point.

From Salem killing silver eyed warriors to capturing them.

Given Salem was trying to kill Maria when she was young, now am old lady.And has only ever tried to capture Ruby.

That and Grimm Summer is just the concept ever, I wanna see Summer Rose the paragon of being a huntress be an underling for Salem.

Especially if she's not as reluctant of a follower as we may believe.

Staying dead: Junko Enoshima (Danganronpa)

Junko is that werid one of I want her to stay dead but like keep her memory alive.

Because it makes sense too, woman caused the apocalypse.

And if we're still operating in that universe it makes sense she'd be bought up, especially after the fact.

But I don't think Junko herself should be bought back.

I get why they did it in Danganronpa 2 because it made sense.

But after, I don't think Junko needs to keep being our main bad guy.

I think exploring the word, her followers and hell people have nothing to do with her would be a lot of fun.

If they do bring her back I'm not gonna be mad, just think hey if we can have multiple protags it'd be fun to have multiple villians too.

She can't carry all of this on her own.

If they do bring her back, kinda defeats the purpose of her death.

Of why it meant so much to her, why she had to lose to Makoto the ultimate hope and her own class.

She lost but she also won.

It's such a huge thing and to bring her back and than kill her later it really deminishes the impact her death had.

... That and...She'd need a whole new body because who knows what happened to her corpse.

Coming back to life: Matsuda Yasuke (Danganronpa)

Speaking of followers of Junko I'd like to see.

We know little about Matsuda, given he's only appeared in Danganronpa Zero.

I think him being around would be really interesting especially in a world where Junko stays dead.

Because Matsuda is that complex thing of being someone infatuated and in love with Junko.

He was her childhood friend and boyfriend after all.

But also someone who wants her to change.

He created a version of her devoid of despair and he'd be happy to keep her that way.

Which is a unique perspective because most Junko followers think she's the most perfect thing ever.

And I think having that perspective would make for an interesting story.

Because no one really sees Junko as a fully realised person, not even Mukuro her own sister.

Also even aside from Junko, Matsuda also plays a huge role in the killing game's.

He's the one responsible for the memory wipes.

Being the Ultimate Neurologist.

I personally would love to see the memory stuff explored given it was always second to the killing games.

I get why but it's so cool and not something we talk enough about. Wonder if he was scouted by Hope's Peak not just for having a talent but for it's usages.

Say... The Kamakura project 👀.

I dunno but I think Junko's boy toy deserves some time in the spotlight.

Staying dead: The Grabber (The Black Phone)

His death was not only deserved.

It was fucking satisfying.

Watching Finney use everything the other boys gave him to beat that fucker.

That has kept him hostage, killed several others and is now getting his just deserts.

Was glorious.

... And I'm well aware that there's a sequel coming.

And I'm just hoping he stays dead.

Because not only do the ghost boys, Finney and Gwenny deserve to rest.

The Grabbers death was just perfectly set up and delivered so brutally.

That him being alive and returning to die later kinda ruins the ending.

Because it's Finney's fight to freedom.

I mean if that's the way they go with it, I can't say I'm not intrigued but yeah... Not in a rush to see him again.

Would much rather see someone else wear that mask.

Coming back to life: Sammy Emily (Five nights at Freddy’s)

The fact everyone dies and comes back to life in this series.

But not Sammy is a crime.

I'm sorry but the story about the mysterious twin brother of the girl who becomes the puppet.

Is something I wanna see.

I know he's only been mentioned vaguely in the Silver Eyes books.

But that's only more reason.

Just Sammy who's thought be dead for years raised by his mother and having an unexplainable connection to Freddys.

I mean tons of kids in the Fazbear Frights books have been drawn or compelled to go to Freddys.

His would make the most sense.

Maybe Williams after him?

Maybe it's Charlie in the Pizzaplex recognising and calling out to him.

Maybe he's the new night guard at the place trying to figure out what happened here... And why it feels familiar.

Maybe he knows about Freddy’s but he knows Charlie was taken and killed.

A parallel to Charlie thinking it was him in the original books.

Maybe he's out for revenge or just trying to find his missing sister.

There's so many possibilities.

I'm just saying if we can get a book about Sea Bonnie's we can get a Sammy Emily story.

Well that's my list.

Feel free to add your own, I'm curious.

#Danganronpa #matsuda yasuke #junko enoshima #Rwby #summer rose #five nights at freddy's #sammy emily #jason grace #toa spoilers #the burning maze spoilers #the black phone #The Grabber #jason todd #red hood #bucky barnes #the winter soldier #heroes of olympus

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darthsassacre · 2 months ago

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Minfilia!

“What would you do, in this situation, Louisoix?”

Minfilia gazed at the shattered remains of her mentor’s famous staff, Tupsimati, and tried to imagine his voice, his advice were he here.

Nothing came to mind.

She sighed, leaning forward to rest her weight against the desk.

“I wish you were still with us, my friend. You would know how to handle this.”

This being the precarious situation she found herself in now, with the Scions shattered and Thancred… her oldest and dearest friend…

A knock at the door interrupted her and she turned, palming away tears before they could shed.

“Yes?”

“Lady Minfilia?”

The voice was unfamiliar at first, a bit more brusk than she remembered, more hoarse, but then she placed it.

“Rian. Please, come in.”

The door opened and the Elezen lancer stepped in, softly closing the door behind them. Their hair, previously down around their shoulders almost constantly, had been tied up in a tight tail, bangs framing their face. Their blue eyes were hard, but warm. Their usual armor was gone, replaced instead by simple casual wear.

“I wanted to check in, see how you were holding up. I don’t imagine the Garleans were friendly.”

Minfilia tried to put on a brave face, the same as she had after the Calamity and the same as she had every day since.

“I’m fine. I thank you for your concern, my friend, truly, but I’m perfectly fine.”

“Your eyes are red. You’ve been crying recently. I don’t think you’ve slept yet, either.”

The blunt matter-of-factness of their words startled her and she fell silent.

“I’ve gotten pretty good at reading people over the years. You’re not okay… but that’s not a bad thing. You’re not some paragon, Minifilia, you’re just like the rest of us, mortal.”

“I appreciate your concern, Rian, truly, but as I said, I’m fine. I just have a lot on my mind, and it’s been a long day. I’ll rest shortly, I promise. You needn’t worry.”

“Well… I think Thancred would,” they replied. “And since he’s not… not here right now, I’ll worry. I could always get Urianger, but I think he’s got a lot on his mind as it is.”

Minfilia closed her eyes, turning away. Thancred, her dear dear friend, trapped as a pawn of that foul Ascian.

“You’ll bring him back to us, won’t you?” she asked softly.

She heard the sharp inhale.

“That may not be possible, you heard what-”

“You’ll do your best.”

“I… yes. I swear it, Minfilia.”

Footsteps, and then Rian was there, knelt before her.

“Selama ashal’anore, Minifilia. We will have justice. And I will bring him back.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

There was no more she could say, no more she could ask. Everything she had tried so hard to build lay in ashes around her, the taste bitter in her mouth. All their futures now lay in the hands of this one hero… she could only hope they weren’t too heavy a burden for one soul to carry.

#ffxiv #minfilia warde #this was not meant to be angst but then it became angst oops #anyway warning my wol is actually accidentally a wow transplant who is half belf so yeah that's thalassian there #it's a whole thing #but anyway lahabrea somewhere is getting a cold chill down his back #and the sense of an impending assbeating

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dragonflight203 · 8 months ago

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Mass Effect 1 replay, part 1 of Virmire:

-I guess the geth are waterproof, since so many of them walk in the water

-The pod crabs are adorable.

-The path the mako takes seems man-made; the border between it and the ocean seems to have a fence-like structure that has eroded.

Why was the fence built? By who? Why has it eroded?

-What’s the point of the first gatehouse? The gate is open – you can drive straight through without ever entering.

There are clearly gate controls if you do enter. Why didn’t they shut the gate as soon as the first geth spotted you? Why don’t they pursue you if you drive through?

-It’s a nice touch to see the Normandy sweep in after disabling the guns at the second gatehouse.

-Shepard never introduces themself to Kirrahe, so no alignment for spectre/Alliance. Presumably Ashley handled introductions, since she’s already speaking to Kirrahe when Shepard walks up.

-Kirrahe mentions that he lost half his men investigating the facility. That lays the groundwork for the salarians we find later.

-When Shepard initially speaks to Kirrahe, it’s just Kaidan and Ashley. Wrex suddenly appears once Kirrahe mentions that Saren is breeding an army of krogan.

-And from the get go the casual racism of the salarians is apparent. Kirrahe refers to Wrex as “the krogan” and calls the krogans a mistake.

-If you discuss Wrex with Ashley, you tell her to be ready if you go paragon or neutral.

-Everyone but Shepard is in their original clothing, rather than the armor you’ve probably equipped them in.

-Rentola is stranded on Virmire about to attack a facility that massively outnumbers his people and he still insists on selling you his goods. No freebies.

-Garrus, Kaidan, and Ashley address Wrex by name. Kaidan and Ashley twice, Garrus once.

-Notable: Ashley offers to kill Wrex (albeit not in so many words) but still uses his name.

“If you need my help dealing Wrex just let me know”

-Garrus does refer to him as an angry krogan, but he’s not using that to address Wrex, just describe the situation.

“The last thing we need is an angry krogan on our team”

-Tali and Liara both refer to Wrex by name once and “the krogan” once.

Very surprising – typically renegade characters are more racist, and Tali and Liara are more paragon aligned. In both their lines they could easily have used “Wrex”.

Tali: The krogan seems very upset.

Liara: The krogan’s demeanor is worrying.

-The inability to hack device if Shepard doesn’t have decryption is irritating. What, I can’t ask Tali to help me with the medical device just behind her?

-When you speak to Wrex, he mentions that he went with Shepard because he wanted to do more than fight for credits.

Even now, at his lowest point, Wrex still wants to make things better.

He’s just very depressed, and being asked to destroy the best hope for his people in the last millennia isn’t helping.

-If you’ve done Wrex’s family armor quest, you have to lean into renegade to kill Wrex (but not red renegade).

It doesn’t take any speak checks to save him, just not picking the renegade option on the first dialogue wheel after he draws his gun.

-If you kill him, Liara and Tali once again have some very surprising lines:

Liara: We will be a better team without Wrex. His loyalties could not be trusted.

Tali: We will miss the krogan’s strength. But I sense the team will be better off now that he’s gone.

At least Liara uses his name in both her lines about him. Tali still uses “the krogan”.

Did Liara and Tali have the same writer?

-I think Ashley, Kaidan, and Garrus all referred to Wrex by name after his death; I did not write it down.

-The soldiers are mostly thrilled Wrex is dead. Only one says that killing him was regrettable.

-Kirrahe lets you pick whether to give him a Council sponsored funeral or dump his body in the swamps. You can pick the swamps if you go renegade; Shepard isn’t about to honor a traitor.

-If you go paragon with Wrex, one of his lines is: To thank us for wiping out the rachni, they neutered us all.

“They” being the Council.

So we’re just ignoring the part where the krogan invaded an asari colony and refused to leave?

-Now it’s Liara’s turn to use “the krogan”: Your ability to calm the krogan is impressive.

-Ashley, Kaidan, Garrus, and Tali all refer to Wrex by name

#mass effect #mass effect 1 #mass effect 1 replay

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the-rebel-archivist · 5 months ago

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11, 16, and 18 for the da4 hype <3

Thank you so much for the ask <3

11. What's one think you'd really like to see in this next game?

Honestly, I feel like they looked at my wishlist and told me "Wish granted" with so many of the reveals we've gotten! I wanted Lucanis? There he is. I wanted mobile, snappy combat? It's there. I wanted to know what happened with the griffons and if Last Flight would have impact and we'll learn and it does! So many bits of lore that have been hinted at heavily seem like they'd come into play and we'll learn a lot about some of the more mysteriously shrounded parts of them (though I do hope they keep some secrets for themselves!). And of course there's the CC and its focus on not just functionality and creativity but inclusivity.

If I slightly rephrase to the thing I'm most looking forward to seeing, I think it's how all the companions will interact. They keep calling them their most engaging crew of companions yet and I can't wait to see how we're able to influence them. I'd like to know if there's any friction between them to solve and who gets closest to whom. I'm excited to handle difficult conversations and choices with them!

16. What's one crack theory you subscribe to (yours or someone else's)?

I've got a lot of theories but most are pretty well supported, here's one that I went down the rabbit hole with that has little to no connective tissue at all:

The ancient elves were particularly unkind to dwarves, we know this from Trespasser and the implication that they drove them underground. The dwarves allied with Tevinter. Though there was hostility between the elves and the dwarves, after the fall of Arlathan Cad-halash (later Cadash thaig) tried to take in the escaping elves only to be destroyed by the dwarves of Kal-Sharok, ostensibly to protect their alliance.

Paragon Fairel founded Kal Repartha, the surface thaig in the Hissing Wastes, as "A place where we may meet in peace" sometime at least 100 years before the First Blight (possibly much older, they never give an upper bound for age) after the weapons Fairel crafted were used by the dwarves to war against each other. The entrance to the Deep Roads was closed off; the dwarves mentioned to be either fleeing or preventing a war could never return.

Somehow, the dwarves managed to bind demons into the pillars of the Tomb of Fairel, creating the sort of corrupted stone they call "The Gangue" - "Stone waste" or "Impure spirit of the stone." Long before the Blight, the Stone was already corrupted and the dwarves were already working to cut it from the healthy body. Containing the Gangue is one of the primary goals of the Legion of the Dead, not killing darkspawn.

The demons in the pillars are released by the use of veilfire, an ancient art perfected by the elves and only usable by mages. Cole says that the demons were dwarves once and believe they still are. Note that because this is before the First Blight, golems also don't exist yet.

Theory: Fairel founded Kal Repartha after the destruction of Cad'halash and perhaps even housed some elves as well who set up the veilfire. But we aren't finished yet.

The Gangue. It's described like a blight on the stone long before it makes sense to be blighted. When you talk to Solas about the Blight, he knows more than he lets on but also less than he would like. "The fools who first unleashed the Blight upon this world thought they were unlocking ultimate power," he says, and it sounds like he means the magisters in the black city... but what if in fact he means the evanuris. Their experiments and tampering, especially those of Ghilan'nain, began the process of blighting the stone and only later led to the outward signs of darkspawn, red lyrium, and the rise of corrupted archdemons.

And for another crack theory, Lucanis isn't possessed because that's such a straightforward explanation, but maybe pacted in some way to a demon? If not that, has some form of relationship to one without losing his sense of self. This one is pure wish fulfillment.

18. Which aspect of fandom are you most looking forward to?

Seeing all the new characters people create! It's going to be so fun to see everyone's take on the same material and watch what parts of it they hone in on as touchpoints for their Rooks and existing characters. Sometimes completely innocuous lines can take on so much profound meaning based on how the character you're roleplaying interprets it and relates to it.

#dragon age #da4 #tag game #the red string really came out this time #but i do hope we get to solve the mystery of the gangue and how it relates to everything else soon

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jayarrarr · 2 years ago

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If It Ain't Love

On this Valentine's Day, as on every Valentine's Day, we are inundated with red and pink hearts and images celebrating romantic love. But why celebrate romantic love, specifically, when of all the types of love that exist, it is the most volatile, unrealistic, and fleeting type? Perhaps it isn't romantic love, exactly, that we celebrate, but the memory of it—intense, ideal, and intrusive. It might be volatile, but the moments it stays with us are vigorous and strong. People will say that they've never felt more alive than when they're in love, which makes those brief moments all the more explosive and eloquent. It is here that we compose sonnets and paint masterpieces. It is here that we experience ourselves as boundless. It might be unrealistic, but it allows us, as imperfect creatures, to glimpse perfection in all its glory—even to taste it, for a moment. It's not real, but then, perfection isn't real either, is it? While in love, there's nothing we don't think we can do. All of our dreams have been realized and we can see them, flawless and fierce in our minds. This feeling erases impossibility. It might be fleeting, but it leaves scorch marks on our souls that not even time can erase. Although we might struggle to recount factual details, we always seem to fluidly recall the feeling of every time we've fallen in love. It's this feeling that stays with us, long after the actual love and the person who produced it have disappeared. It doesn't stay, but it never quite goes away, either. I submit that, in the grand scheme of things, very few people are actually, actively in love on any given Valentine's Day. But Valentine's Day gives you the opportunity to celebrate the memory of being in love, which almost all people have: Intense, because it consumes you on a neurological and cellular level. Being in love actually alters your brain chemistry, making colors more vivid, lights brighter and sharper, sounds clearer and more distinct. You are at the height of your focus and the world around you is shining in a beautiful and brilliant way that's at once overwhelming and welcome. Ideal, because when you're in love with someone they can do no wrong. They are your perfect fit in all respects, a tangible manifestation of everything you've ever hoped for in your life coming together in one beautiful and brilliant paragon of peopledom. That you could have possibly found this connection makes everything else you might ever hope to do seem at least a little more possible. Intrusive, because every thought and feeling you have seems to revolve around them. Try as you might, you can't get them out of your head. They're your first thought upon waking and your last thought before you fall asleep. For one beautiful and brilliant moment, however brief, your entire being revolves around this person you've found. There isn't an instant left untouched by your feeling for them. And as much as it might seem like it would be amazing to feel this way all the time, our bodies and brains aren't designed to sustain this level of feeling for anything approaching forever. You can't produce the unique cocktail of neurochemicals required to be "in love" for any extended period of time. There's nothing wrong with your relationship if you're no longer "in love" with that person—you've simply come down from the clouds and started to interact with them as a whole person, beautiful in their flaws and brilliant in their mistakes. This Valentine's Day, allow yourself to be in love with the idea of being in love. Valentine's Day isn't meant for you to fuss over the perfect gifts or fret over the fact that you've got no one to exchange gifts with. It's meant for you to remember this volatile, unrealistic, and fleeting feeling that you've had, and feel grateful that it is indeed volatile, unrealistic, and fleeting—because if it weren't, we'd all be dead. © 2023 Jennifer R.R. Mueller

#JRRM #prose #Valentine's Day #love

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whatgaviiformes · 2 years ago

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Head Canon Ask Game:

♒ - cooking/food head canon Thunderteers

Yay!

I started off with John and Virgil alternating the cooking, but seeing as Virgil is also Chief Mate and their Surgeon, John tends to take this one over. I actually wrote a lot about food and cooking in this Universe so I hope its okay for me to post some of those as a response to this question. I love the little moments. There's a lovely scene in Hold Fast I dug out of the trenches before Gordon's accident when he's still adjusting their helm to account for the tilting sail (God, Gavii, how many times are you going to write Gordon's accident before people get tired of it) and it's a lovely moment between those two:

The sun rose to its zenith, beyond, and hours later when Virgil was engrossed in his books in his study, he heard John begin to tinker with the pots and pan in the room over. Virgil’s study was actually their medical cabin, which shared a wall with their galley. Despite that he was in the middle of his book, the metallic clunk of wood and cast iron was a welcome herald that John was beginning to prepare supper. He would not dare to fold the precious pages over, the way Gordon would infuriatingly fold the triangle corner in his books. Instead, Virgil kept a thin cord tucked into the spine of the book to mark his placement in the story.

With any luck, maybe this time he’d remember he was on the second page of the spread when next he had time to read. Virgil stepped around his desk, and placed the book down, before swinging over to the galley, where his most nocturnal sibling had straightened the sleep away from his appearance, though concise movements and a clench in his jaw as he flipped through the recipe book warned Virgil something was on his mind.

“Gordon still up there?” He asked, stepping towards the aroma of spices, and leaning against the doorway. “Yes.”

“How long now?”

“Eleven hours.” John glared at the dinner spread he had started. “Pushing twelve.”

“Twelve!”

“I know, Virg.” John closed his eyes. “Trust me. I know.” When he opened them again and spun at Virgil, emeralds held hurt. “This is my fault.”

“How’s that?” Virgil pressed into John’s space in the tight room, sensing him vibrating down to his bones where he stood. He fidgeted when Virgil reached for the lithe shoulder, jittery in a way that was typical of Gordon, but not at all characteristic of their Navigator, his mind generally poised and his expression serene.

“Why do you think Scott took me aside, Virgil? I should have noticed. We’ve lost time. Would’ve lost more if Gordon hadn’t noticed yesterday and course corrected.” He spun back to his soup, away from Virgil’s grasp, and snatched a glass jar in the spice rack. “And he’s got to carry the burden since he’s the only one comfortable enough to adjust it as we sail.” Three shakes of the white seasoning and then a slow, careful exhale with a curse lingering in the air.

“John?”

The red head forced the small jar back onto the shelf, and it clattered against the other spices. “That was sugar.”

Virgil leaned around him, grabbed the salt. “We have plenty,” he said kindly. He placed a warm hand between John’s bony shoulder blades and rubbed until he felt John release the pressure building. “We’ll start over.”

Start over they did. The soup was steaming, carrying its aroma up through the oak ceiling above. John was in the middle of stirring, feeling more relaxed cooking with Virgil just like they’d done as children, when Gordon stepped in, seeming the paragon of exhaustion. The bosun collapsed into the closest seat at the table, crossed his arms on the wooden surface, and then dropped his head in them where his shirt smelled of sweat and salt water.

Oh! And again. Apparently, I like to have these two talking over supper prep. I knew I had written Virgil's favorite foods, but here's another lovely little scene with these two from Oak and Ivory:

Hours later, the sound of a roller banging on the mess table signaled the start of dinner preparations, and shortly after the aroma of beef simmering in ale wafted through wooden walls.

John had joined him on board about half-way through Virgil’s watch. Out in the natural light of the main deck, Virgil had been jotting down the notes from a tune he had drifting in his head, but the navigator’s arms were full of fresh meat and vegetables from town when he arrived. Virgil had helped him carry the provisions down into the galley, excited for the promise of fresh rump steaks in place of their supply of salted meats that usually ended up in stews.

Still better than grandma’s hard tack.

The moderately-sized leather-bound book that was their mother’s copy of the Art of Cookery Made Plain and Easy, was open on the table near a plate of finely chopped onions. The simple recipe book was one they knew backward and forward, but John was always a stickler for having the book out for reference.

Virgil sat across from him, staying out of the way of the preparations, but watchful as John moved about the kitchen. Despite the heat from the flame as the alcohol burned off and the steak fried and browned in the cast iron, John wore a navy watch cap that slouched a bit in the back. He wore it forward on his head to keep his hair out of the food, and so light fuzz of his red hair showed in the back where the nape of his neck wasn’t fully covered.

John added salt and pepper to the plate, followed by nutmeg and parsley, and sprinkled them into a pile of seasonings for the butter.

“Don’t forget the thyme,” Virgil reminded him.

“Ah! You’re right.” John’s hand stopped on the way to pick up the round ball of butter, and instead he flitted through their seasoning and spice jars for the ingredient he hadn’t pulled aside yet.

Once he added a bit of thyme, John rolled the butter so that it picked up all of the spices and topped it with a coat of flour. With that prepared it was simply a matter of waiting for the steaks to be ready for him to add the onions and the butter mixture.

“I can watch the steaks if you want to get started on the vegetables,” Virgil offered.

John shook his head lightly, already reaching for the French beans for the ragout. “No, I got it, thanks Virg.” He’d already cut the ends of off the fresh beans and divided them crosswise into thirds. Still watching the steaks, John added the beans to the pan so they could fry and brown in beef fat.

This recipe was also one of Virgil’s favorites. The hints of beef would complement their steak meal, but the real flavoring came from the second set of ingredients once the beans were removed and the grease was drained. Butter, water, white wine, mushroom ketchup and additional seasonings would create a simmering sauce and reduce over the flame. The French beans would be added back in at the end, and with a final stir, it would be ready to serve.

As the aromas mingled, Virgil realized the two parts of the meal would finish at roughly the same time. That was another talent of their mother’s that John apparently inherited – her innate sense of time keeping and multi-tasking.

Already suspecting the answer, Virgil asked, “Is there a reason you are going out of your way to cook our favorites?”

“Well,” John mused, giving the meat a quick touch test with a knife, “this might be our last nice dinner in Eden. Scott’s planning to leave in two days.”

I watched a youtube video of authentic cooking to get the above better descriptors. <3

#thunderteers #it almost says tears get it? Because I can only write angst? *sigh*#virgil Tracy #Gordon Tracy #writing snippets #ask box answers

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justmoveyourhand · 10 months ago

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MaRo has posted his Murders teasers, and frankly they haven't gotten me this excited since VOW. So, I'm gonna overanalyze the crap out of it, share the parts I'm most excited by, and probably prep myself for disappointment.

Full link here, just in case

Two absolute bangers, one I love and one I worry about. Clues are that perfect power level where you love to have them, but they don't give you as commanding of a lead (currently, at least) as something like treasure or free card draw. Token decks getting card draw when they're flooding seems nice. I imagine this will be blue or white, which is a nice bonus since both colors also like using artifacts for other things.

The poison counters could be a problem in Standard. While I appreciate that they're exploring more ways to use the mechanic, the poison deck in standard is already quite good (in my experience). We'll see if it makes waves. Probably black.

As an unapologetic blink enthusiast, I was popping off at this. Alesha EDH loves this, it works hand in hand beautifully with splicers in casual play, Serra Paragon (and venerated rotpreist) in standard, all kinds of stuff. Depending on what the rest of the text around this looks like, I could see it being the card in the set that I end wanting dozens of.

Kinda hope it's not an artifact. Color limitations are fun.

A continuation of the previous, I like rewards for playing little guys, but I also kinda think tokens can be hell, especially in EDH if that player gets too ahead. Also synergizes with -1 counters, which is fun. Probably black. That's where most death triggers lie, but I could see it being white or blue, a trail of minor deaths leading to bigger clues, or maybe red. Not sure where reds coming from. Just feels right.

Choose any number of targets players is just fun from a political angle. I like swinging deal and table talk in multiplayer games, so this is right up my alley.

Not really substantial here, but I love an homage to old cards, and Renowned Weaponsmith getting a spiritual successor is very fun for me.

And that's kinda all that caught my attention firmly. The set seems like it's doing lots of weird stuff, and I'm always down for that, and if the last years drafts have been anything to go by, this one should be a banger. I personally can't wait to start seeing more spoilers trickling out, and patiently wait for the day we get people complaining about Clues the way they did about treasure in Kaldheim.

#magic the gathering #murders at karlov manor #Maro Teasers #delirious thoughts #i should really get caught up with the webfiction.

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howlingday · 2 years ago

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SPOILERS

IN MY OPINION,

(I wanna preface that because people are going to actually argue with each other over this so just to be sure it's understood that it's a different opinion than others.)

Starting from the far end of the spectrum, the Red Lantern Corps would accept members like Neopolitan. Neo is literally living her life dedicated to the death and destruction of Ruby Rose out of revenge. If that isn't Ren Lantern material, I don't know what is.

Next up is the Orange Lantern holder, which is a singular character greedily holding the lantern and protecting it, gaining the powers of the previous lanterns that were killed for it. This cycle of killing others for their powers sounds way too familiar of the story of one Cinder Fall. Cinder is tracking down and killing the Maidens to take away their powers and she is slowly becoming more and more of a monster to do so. Again, the similarities is too coincidental for me.

Last in the far end of the "evil" lantern corps is the Sinestro Corps, who draw their great strength from the power and influence of fear. Now, this is where it gets tricky, because with a world filled to the brim with monsters who are drawn to negative emotions like fear, it's kind of hard to decide. However, the best character I can think of to fit this role was a most recent antagonist. Yup, that's right. I'm talking about General James Ironwood. General Ironwood started off like a decent guy, doing his best to salvage the Kingdom after the Fall of Beacon and rally his people together in the name of peace. However, his fear of Salem and lack of trust in others led to him making rash and arguably stupid decisions. Much like a certain yellow-clad supervillain who was trying to do what he thought was right.

And now we have reached the titular corps and main focus of the entire franchise. The Green Lantern Corps. Of the multitude of characters who could be chosen to serve as the paragons of willpower, I decided to choose someone who best fits in for their ability to thrive as center of the emotional spectrum. Someone who can see and know what emotions are being felt and knows how to use them. Yup, I chose Lie Ren. Since his introduction, Ren has come far since the stoic and stone-faced young man he was and grew to be the master envoy of emotion he is when we last saw him. It especially helps that his semblance allows him to see other's emotions, instead of just suppression of it. Being green himself also doesn't hurt.

Next up is the Blue Lantern Corps, a peace keeping collection of survivors, heroes, and generally good people who have experienced great hardship, but never lost the source of their power: hope. Now, a LOT of characters can be chose from this series since, IN MY PERSONAL OPINION, hope is the primary theme of the series. Now that I've said this, you might assume I would make someone from Team RWBY a member of this different team of people trying to make things better. But no. Instead, I chose a different heroic lead to be our Blue Lantern. Someone who has experienced great hardship, loss, and has even been to the brink of being hopeless and yet never gave up. For this reason of holding onto hope, I chose Jaune Arc. Jaune has lived his entire life as the punchline of every joke. He's made the leader of Team JNPR with zero experience and cheated his way into Beacon, only to then lose his partner, best friend, mentor, and love interest in the Fall. After walking all the way from the island of Patch to Haven Academy, he fights Cinder Fall, almost gets Weiss killed and saves her by unlocking his semblance. Then he learns all of it was for nothing because there's a scary Grimm queen who's going to kill everyone anyways, then makes his way to Atlas where he's caught up in a civil unrest between the Atlas military and the people of Mantle, during which he kills his friend to stop Cinder, and falls into the Ever After, where he takes on the role of the Rusted Knight. After all this, after everything he lost, he NEVER gave up hope. He just dusted himself off and soldiered on. THAT is why Jaune is a Blue Lantern holder.

Okay, after that HUGE dissertation on why I love Jaune Arc as a character, let's get back to why you're really here. Next up are the, uh... Oh boy. The Indigo Tribe. Now, this is probably the one group I know the least about of the entire spectrum, so bear with me. Okay, so the Indigo Tribe are a group of reformed and redeemed convicts who draw their power from compassion. With this, they act as healers and guide others through great pain. That said, it could be argued that Lie Ren would fit in as a member, but there is a catch that bars his entry. To become one, you must be willing to part with your worldly desires and possessions to become one with the universe and empathise with every living creature in existence. With that, I'd say Ren is cut out because he can't devote his whole to the universe because of one part of him; Nora. But more on that later. Instead, I chose someone who would be most willing to give themselves over AND fits the narrative as Indigo Tribe. A former agent of Salem, I chose Hazel Rainart. Hazel worked as the muscle of the Inner Circle, using his inability to feel pain power him through heavy hitters in the series, including Salem herself for a time. His last minute redemption of self-sacrifice makes him an exquisite choice to be a member of the Indigo Tribe, since he's an ex-con with no earthly attachments and a great narrative to push him to become more compassionate.

Last, but certainly not least on the primary Corps is the Star Sapphire. This primarily female Corps is made up of lovers who have loved and lost, either by death or spurn, and use their love as a source of their power. Now, as much the show loves to throw love interests and interactions to us, there's not a lot of good candidates for this Corps. True, there are good, healthy relationships in RWBY, a lot of them are simply spurned, forgotten, or made out to be the most toxic thing possible. But if there's one character who best defines the power of love in this series, it's the one we all cheered for when she got her mans. Yup, Nora Valkyrie is not only the best choice, but the ONLY choice as a Star Sapphire. Nora grew up in poverty until her village was attacked by Grimm. After being saved by Ren, she stuck by his side through it all. All the way from the unseen orphanage to Beacon, Haven, Atlas, and now Vacuo, Nora has shown nothing but love and affection for Ren. And when he went too far in Mistral, she grounded him. When Atlas was placed in martial law, she questioned herself as a person without Ren. Simply put, if there's no Ren, is there no Nora? There's not a lot of places to find her being spurned, but this still doesn't stop her from being the definition of love in RWBY.

As for the last two, I'll make it quick, because I started this at midnight, and it is now 1:36AM.

Salem as the Black Lantern Corps because she's technically dead and is obsessed with killing everyone.

Ruby as the White Lantern Corps because silver eyes, deus ex machina, and how she's fighting to protect all life on Remnant.

What rwby character would go into what lantern corps?

#rwby #dc #my thoughts #green lantern #lantern corps #neopolitan #cinder fall #james ironwood #lie ren #jaune arc #hazel rainart #nora valkyrie #salem #ruby rose

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4shfur · 3 years ago

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alitm was such a book idk if i can fit all my thoughts into one post im on mobile and it wont let me put the little red more things so this is your warning, i have the post tagged but still, be warned there are major spoilers for alitm

anyways i loved alitm this may not be a popular opinion but i thought it was amazing and a perfect end to the series. it fucking broke me oh my god. on one hand it was amazing writing and i loved it ON THE OTHER HAND WHY DID THEY HAVE TO MAKE IT THAT SAD.

bristlefrost im so sorry i ever said anything bad aboutyou you are the paragon of perfection, the best cat in the whole world and i hope they name 50 cats after you.

i want to imagine bristlefrosts death ended up sort of like the epilogue of firewing. she wont be in starclan but shes still there in spirit and shes always watching over the clans. i am 100% sure she knew that rootspring was willing to chabge clans for her, i think they both did and GODAMNIT THEY SHOULD HAVE BEEN HAPPY AND HAD KITS. i have cried 5 times since i read it. her death scene was beautiful, so poetic and i loved it and i hated it. BUT THEY KEPT ON PILING ON THE GRIEF. its tearing me to shreds to think tht shes not even in starclan, she gave up her life, her spirit, and her future with rooyspring to save the clans and for that she has earned a place in my favorite warriors cats.

shadowsight also was great this book, im so happy about how everything was tied up at the end, i was worried the erins wouldnt do it but i thought it was great and im so glad shdowisght can just move on.

graystripes death was sad but also im so glad he gets to be with his family again, he and firestar were so gay this book. speaking of firestar im so glad they brought back his personality from the first arc. he kicked darkstripes ass and he kicked it good. im so glad they brought back how his main perosnality traits were 1. loved violence and 2. really fucking petty and nosy

also i am convinced. I AM CONVINCED. that the scene at the end where rootspring tries to reach bristlefrost and sees the image of them under a willow tree? and with their kits? and runjing through the forest? thats bristlefrost. it has to be. it cant just be a coincidence that she also imagined them under a willow tree, and with three kits, and running through the forest. it cannot be.

im sorta disappointed that snowtuft didnt get a proper death scene, but it was cool that we got to see other dark forest cats. i thought ashfur was a really great villain still, and i LOVED the scene where needletsil and violetshine beat the shit out of darktail. he totally deserved it.

im sad squirrelflight wasnt in the final battle though. the speech graystripe gave from her was great but also i think she shoulve given it herself.

im so happy theyre changing the code, its long overdue. i think the lesson of this book is that bristlefrost is the best and everyone should love her. she should have been on the cover. bramblestar barely even showed up

i loved her sacfrifice, it really was worth it and it was beautifully written, but also im getting way to worked up over this and im fucking miserable that shell never gt to see that it was her who saved the clans, it was her determination that inspired dark forest cats to fight on their side, and it was her loved with rootspring that encouraged them to change the code. shes so wonderful and i loved her so much. bristleforts is the only warrior cat ever.

over all 12/10 just for bristlefrost. i might follow up on this post

#alitm spoilers #alitm #a light in the mist #oh god #warriors #warrior cats #wc #shadowsight #bristlefrost #rootspring #violetshine #needletail #darktail #snowtuft #bramblestar #squirrelflight #ashfur

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echoes-abound · 3 years ago

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The Ocean Queen could tell her knight hadn’t been sleeping.

A part of her was miffed, after all the thought she’d put into her plan to force his slumber, he stubbornly refused to sleep soundly. It had worked for a while, but now once again he sat awake all night, still in his bed to avoid waking her for something as small as a crisis.

She was miffed, but she understood why.

“We’re traveling to the Undergrove today,” she made the announcement after his daily question as they sat around the furnace, eating slightly burned bread. “The full moon is coming, and we’ll need their paragon’s help.”

Ren choked on his food at the mention of the coming moon.

“...your highness?”

“Don’t give me that, Ren,” she insisted lightly. “Did you honestly think I forgot about the transformation coming up?”

It wasn’t that, not really. In fact, Ren had assumed (or perhaps hoped) she wasn’t aware at all. He’d questioned her discreetly, trying to see if she remembered meeting him after he died, trying to see if she remembered anything about what had brought them together. Lizzie couldn’t say why she lived on the rapidly-expanding clutch of lily pads in the middle of the sea, or even why he called her queen. Something as small as his lycanthrope he was sure would’ve slipped her mind. He’d hoped to slip away for the night, to spend the single night of pain far away from his queen.

Lizzie had other ideas.

The Undergrove was north, his queen was quite sure of that, and so the pair took off in the new direction. Only an hour in and Ren saw dusty orange cliffs rising from the sea, a mesa he’d not been able to spot from the water.

“We’ll have to walk from here.”

The cracked red sands were hot and uninviting, and completely abandoned. The remnants of buildings scattered the lands, shattered terracotta roofs and dust-coated everything a sign of a civilization long since passed. Above it all stood what might once have been a vast palace, but the green of the central tower was fractured like a clay bowl dropped onto concrete.

“What happened here?” he’d asked, taking a step closer to the massive structure. Lizzie shrugged and turned away.

“I don’t know.”

Lizzie and Ren moved quickly on, through a river jutting through the jungle and past a village in the plains and a town burrowed into a mountain to find a dense forest of giant mushrooms and fungi.

“Lizzie! You’re back!”

Ren recognized the smell immediately, he’d learned to hide it under musty perfumes and cloaks to keep hunters and his crew in the dark. Werewolf. The scent coated the groove in the land and the creatures inside, both wooden and flesh. He’d never heard of a place like this before.

When he’d first seen and heard the person who’d called out to them, Ren had thought she was a child. Standing a mighty 4’9, she could’ve easily been eleven or twelve, but her shoulders were too broad and her muscles too pronounced. Ren noticed the very slight point to her ears. She wasn’t human, and she wasn’t just a werewolf.

“And you brought a friend!”

Lizzie nodded, her enthusiasm and the young woman’s together making him less weary as his queen dragged him along.

“This is Ren. He’s my friend,” she explained, and the mushroom girl nodded, looking him over. Ren knew he didn’t look ‘human’ anymore either, ever since he awoke on the lily pad he’d noticed gills taking the place of his ears and webbing that had grown between his hands in a beautiful ocean blue. He belonged to the sea now, even more so than his queen appeared to. Lizzie called him a friend.

“I’m her knight,” he quickly added.

“I know!” the gnome hummed as they skipped up to a troop of multicolored mushrooms that seemed to reach the sky. A palace, he realized a little too late as the trio marched their way inside. The tree-gollums seemed to bow as they passed, out of more than respect for the forigne queen.

This mushroom-lady was their ruler.

“We came to get a blessing,” Lizzie explained as they walked along. “for Ren. He’s never been here before, and the full moon’s rising…”

“I’ll get him taken care of!” she promised immediately, her high voice echoing in the cavernous mushroom halls, “It won’t take me too long. So long as you’ve got payment.”

A part of Ren wanted to insist that this random fungus-girl couldn’t go making any demands of his queen, but he kept his lips sealed. Lizzie had clearly expected this anyway. Her bag was far too full for just a few days’ journey. She slid it from her shoulders, reaching in and taking out a glass bottle with a swirling blue liquid, far too pigmented to be just seawater. Something Ren had only heard stories about as a young sailor.

“It’s good for a whole day of underwater breathing.” She promised, tilting open her bag to show a half-dozen more. “Take as many as you’d like. We don’t need them.”

The mushroom queen decided she needed all of them, throwing in an extra few charms from the Undergrove to compensate for the overpayment.

“Lizzie, you’ll have to leave.”

“She doesn’t,” Ren immediately insisted, taking a step away from Miss Mushroom, “I won’t leave my queen.”

“Ren,” Lizzie chided, “I’ll be fine! It’ll only be for a moment.”

Ren wanted to open his mouth and object, to remind her that he swore to be by her to the end, but nothing came. Her rule was above all.

The Mushroom Queen led him up the mushroom stems, climbing up and up to the final pink-ish cap, tall enough to see the coming sunset over the jungle. From a hook on the wall she took a cloak and a mask, pulling them both on in preparation.

“I’m Shelby, by the way,” she hummed, “Ruler of the Undergrove and Vessel of the Wolf Spirit.”

“That’s a fancy way of saying ‘werewolf’,” Ren argued, leaning back against the weirdly squishy wall, “What’re you gonna do to me?”

She turned to face him, the eyes of her wolf-bone mask suddenly glowing a faint blue. Her cloak seemed to shift around her small frame, the hood covering her mushroom hat completely.

“I am a werewolf,” she admitted, “but I was chosen. The Wolf Spirit protected me, helped me escape my old world to bring peace to my people, all those who transform like me.”

“Then you’re just hitting me a bit late then.” It was hard for Ren not to be bitter. He’d lost it all because of the curse, his crew who had left behind everything to follow him and ended their lives wondering what he was, what they’d done. Shelby shook her head, her eyes flaring just slightly as the sun slipped behind the trees.

“You belonged to the Ocean Queen,” she stated, her voice taking on a sort of echo that filled the room, “Once someone chooses the sea, not even the High King can pull them back from her.”

Whoever was talking, it wasn’t Shelby anymore. The green cloak dragged behind her as little by little howls began to fill the air. The sound of changing werewolves, but no cries of pain. No shouts of panicked humans and no howls of pain from the ents around this place ripping the poor wolves apart. Ren felt his own change rip through him, a shout of pain escaping his lips as he fell to the floor, the crack in his bones deafening as he felt himself becoming less and less human, his clothes and boots pulling themselves apart as he’d been so careful to avoid in his piracy days.

The Wolf Spirit reached out to rest their hand on his forehead.

Ren, Child of the Sea, knew peace.

The Ocean Queen waited patiently, toes dipped in a lake just outside the Mushroom Castle, for her knight to return. All around her she’d watched men, women, and children turn to wolves without so much as a wince of discomfort, then continue about their lives without bearing teeth or tearing skin. The wooden golems didn’t even seem to notice. The shouts from the top of the castle made her shudder, but she didn’t dare enter and disrupt the process. She trusted Shelby.

Two wolves left the castle that night, one grey as the fog that surrounded the Undergrove, with a mask glowing blue and a head held high, and the other a deep chocolate brown, looking around with a strange twinge of curiosity and an even stranger twinge of hope. Hope that this was all real. Lizzie jumped from the lake, not bothering to remember her shoes as she ran to kneel by the dog she knew she recognized.

“Ren!”

He greeted his queen with a small huff, intending to bow respectfully before being tugged in a near-bone-crushing hug. The beam on her face was enough to make his tail thump against the ground, being able to relax in his queen’s arms while being in control for the first time. He was safe, and she was too.

The Ocean Queen and her loyal Guard Dog.

Taglist! Message me if you wish to be added!

@pusheenwolfmom

#dread pirate ren au #ldshadowlady #empires ldshadowlady #rendog #renthedog #shubble #empires shrub #empires shubble #you hear an echo #empires fanfic #empires smp

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heniareth · 2 years ago

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Find the Word game

Thank you @yukichouji for the tag! I really enjoyed these games. They make me revisit sections I've written a long time ago (I keep them all in one document and it's probably 300-odd pages long) XD XD XD XD

Echoing

"Ogre's getting closer, golem," Oghren shouted.

"It has less dead weight to carry, dwarf," Shale answered, but strained against the wagon to speed up.

An arrow hit against Wynne's blue shield, then another, and another. Behind the ogre were genlock archers. Dread sank into Astala's bones as hurlocks started breaking through the genlock ranks and running after the ogre, their sinister laughter echoing through the stone halls. Her hands uselessly tightened around the wooden planks of the wagon.

Claws (clawed. Close enough.)

"Warden," Zevran said, cutting her off, "Are we friends?"

Astala nodded.

"Then please, let me help. Like you allow Leliana to help."

Another sob clawed its way out of her throat, and this one wouldn't stay down. Astala allowed Zevran to pull her in and pressed her face against his shoulder, willing the world away. Zevran was warm. He didn't back away when the tears started to fall and stain his shirt. He didn't say anything, only rubbed small circles into her back and let her cry. At some point Astala wrapped her arms around him too. He smelled nice. None of this would help her terrible terrible crush and once this was all a memory, she’d probably look back at it with shame. Maker, she’d promised herself not to string him along, but she couldn’t- wouldn’t let go.

Space

Warmth surrounded him, but when Zevran pressed his arms against his chest they were still cold. He wrapped the blankets tighter around himself and stared at the sleeping figure of the Warden. How could she endure temperatures like these? How could anyone in Ferelden for that matter? And with only one blanket! Truth be told, hers was a blanket made for a lord or lady of high standing; size and quality reflected it. As Zevran's eyelids started to grow heavy again, his mind wandered off to memories of his childhood; to kids crammed into one shared sleeping space, never an empty spot to his right or to his left; to little bodies huddled closely together around a hearth when the brief winters descended upon Antiva; to the whispered story of a princess who lent her bed to a pauper to save him from the cold. He'd have his own tale to tell now: how an assassin came to offer his bed to a Grey Warden, and she accepted only to share her blanket with him. And an assassin who had tried to kill her, no less! What a riveting story--although, truth be told, every Antivan he told it to would bemoan the tameness of it. He meanwhile wondered how it would end.

Shock (cw: drunkenness)

The dwarf was slumped over the table, staring up at them with bleary eyes too unfocused to properly see them.

"You're not bringin' me ale."

"Well spotted," Astala said and sat down in front of him. "Though I'll happily get you some if you make this worth my while."

The dwarf let out a dirty laugh. The shock of red hair on his head, thinning out by onsetting balding, wobbled about as drunkenly as he did. "Make it worth your while, eh? You wanna-"

"I want to know about the Deep Roads," Astala said and leaned forward, right into the alcohol-laden breath of the dwarf. "And I want to know everything you can tell me about paragon Branka."

Hey, I got them all! And 2 out of 4 snippets with Zevran! I don't think I'll get a special prize for it, but it's satisfying XD XD XD XD

Thank you again for tagging me! I'm gonna tag @wild-houseplant @icy-warden @bumblewarden @oxygenforthewicked @themarkedkyusei and anybody else who sees this and thinks it's fun to find the words home, laugh, bind and sky (for when and if you want to do this ^^). I hope you have a splendid day and an even more splendid day tomorrow!!

#dragon age #dao #astala tabris #zevran #zevwarden #oghren #find the word tag #shale #my writings #cw: alcohol

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facepalming-since-chernobyl · 3 years ago

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I have been thinking for years about it and I’m going to share it. I think we talked about it in a way, mentiuoning it in other comments and posts, but I after s6 it’s became clearer.

Hope and compassion for all - is the main theme of Supergirl, repeated in all seasons, probably like 20 times if not more. Kara is the Paragon of Hope (btw, it always makes me laugh, because ‘paragon’ in Polish means ‘receipt’, so it’s like pray to Kara so your paragon won’t be high, but whatever) and made gazillion erm, inspiring speeches about it and yet, it’s teh shittiest and most hypocritical part of the show.

Because the hope, help and compassion for ALL are for the superfriends or their friends. And well, for the good guys. And Usamericans. The rest can basically, go to hell.

There is not ALL in it. And never was.

Because that all should goes for example, for Lex, Lockwood, Nyxly, Edge, Rhea, Mr Alienphobe President and any other asshole of the series. For example the security guy who was doing his job for not allowing Kara entering the event she was not invented and ended with broken arm and what was cheered becasue girl power.

I get why Lex, as a notorious murderer and threat that can’t change for better, simply deserve to rot in Phanton Zone and that’s simply obvious.

But then we have Lockwood and Lobotomizer.

Lockwood started as a normal guy, the thing that pushed him into becoming the Agent Liberty were circumstances such as losing factory, losing father, losing his house and watching his family being in danger and meeting wrong people. Remember how got hurt by the panicking alien and Deo came and Alex treated him like an alienphobe, assuming he was among the humans who attacked the alien?

The point is, I see a logic in his path of becoming a villain and he deserved what he got in the end aka rotting in hell, that’s justice. His actions were wrong. I can understand why he became like that, still murderer.

But. Not a single character, not Kara, not Alex, not Lena (who ignored his father’s financial probelms and simply treated them as liability, but sure she went for a funeral and was hurt because he told her to fuck off) - no one showed him compassion, tried to understand, tried to help and show him there is hope. No one. I guess because he was a white dude and that’s the perfect storyline for white dudes in Supergirl’s narration?

Just compare his story to Manchester Black. I don’t remember the shit, but I’m pretty sure J’onn tried to understand him and Kara was not so against him.

Because, I guess, he was INVITED FOR CHRISTMAS SO THEY WERE FRIENDS UWU.

And there, we have Lobotomizer. Who violated every human right you can imagine, broke law more times I can count and hurt Kara *copy/paste here every argument against her* and yet, every time she got compassion, help, undersatnding and hope. Multiple times. Before she tortured Kara and after. Her EVERY shitty idea and horrible deed she did was excused and showed in a good light and in the end she didn’t pay consequecnes for her actions. Because you know, hope, help and compassion for all.

All means Superfriends’ friends. Who are also white privileged wealthy bitch, I guess?

And I absolutely get that you have double standards for people you like and are friends with. I get you help your friends and cover their shit, but that’s not for what Supergirl and Co should stand for. Not when they claim it’s for ALL.

And don’t even let me start like seriously Kara is Usamerican and stands for everything what is Usamerican. I get it too. But once again, hope, help and compassion are universal and the show clearly claimed they are not. I get it was Usamerican show,. made for Usamerican audience but for me, agian, being a hero is also universal. And what we got were Usamerican perfect girl and her Usamerican friends (sorry, Usamerican people who read it, but I hope you get my point). It was all too clear in s4 and the horrible crap that was Red Daughter’s storyline.

I just don’t get at all what the showed tried to tell or teach us. They contradicted themsleves in so many things and I don’t see the whole picture.

Hope, help and ocmpassion for people we choose. White privileged bitches who are our friends are ok, even when they do shit. Fuck white males, even if we are the reason their lives went to hell. Sisterhood is amazing even when toxic shit happened and it all is ignored. Girlpower means breaking security dudes arms when they do their jobs. You can magically heal alcoholism by not talking about it. Breaking law is ok as long as you wanted to do good and feel bad about it. Blinded by feelings is an excuse for tortures and brainwashing. No one needs therapy. True friendship is torturing your friends and hurting them. You can’t keep secrets from your friends. Scientists don’t need to being keep in check and can do whatever they want. Being an idiot is ok.Doing things you don’t like is ok as long as you are successful. Protecting your beloved people and family while keeping secrets is wrong, just tell the shit to whole world. Taking off your glasses can fix all your problems.

Whatever.

#anti sg #my shit

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kaen-ace-of-diamonds · 3 years ago

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Cinderquil

Word Count: 4900+ (oneshot)

[AO3]

Genre: Fluff/Friendship

Characters: Cinder Fall, Cinder’s Pokemon

Summary: Pokemon AU. Ever since they were young, Cinder's only Pokemon has been her starter, Ella the Houndoom. She is proud of her position as her Trainer's sole companion and sees no reason for anything to change, thank you very much. So when Cinder brings home a new addition to their team, Ella's world is turned abruptly upside down.

Warnings for implied/reference child abuse and animal abuse

Inspired by this art by @astoria00!

~0~

Ella, like her Trainer, had no concept of downplaying her own importance.

She considered herself the paragon of partner Pokemon. Ever since she was a little Houndour, tripping over her own paws and barely able to cough out a flame, she had always done her best to look after Cinder. The girl she had grown up with was whip-smart and strong, as hotblooded as any Fire-type, and Ella would follow her commands without hesitation.

That being said, she didn’t always understand what was going on in Cinder’s head. For instance, coming to this unfriendly and unfamiliar region on the orders of that shadowy organization. Sure, the safe house they’d been provided was comfortable, a small and cozy cabin in the woods, but, Ella wondered, at what cost? She had been alone for hours.

Ella watched the thick forest around her with all the alertness of a hunter, gnawing at the large Grumpig ear she had been given. It was not hard work, guarding the cabin while Cinder was out on her mission, and it was clear that Ella was better suited for the job than Talonflame. The Flying-type had been lent to Cinder by her new leader for easy transportation, and while the supercilious look in his eyes got Ella’s hackles up, she didn’t feel threatened by the new addition. Talonflame was, if not temporary, nothing more than a utility.

Ella was Cinder’s only Pokemon. As for Ella herself, she disdained the company of both humans and other Pokemon alike. None of them had ever done anything for her: all she needed was her Trainer.

It was growing dark, and she could smell impending rain in the air — not unusual, in this awful cold and wet region — and was glad when she caught Cinder’s scent alongside it, growing steadily closer. She did not move from her spot on the front porch, but her ears perked up and her gaze homed in on the speck of red in the distance. Small as it was, it stood out against the dark greens and cloudy greys that surrounded them.

Ella didn’t scramble up and run to her as she would have in the past — she had learned professionalism alongside Cinder as well — but her shoulders relaxed and her barbed tail flopped back and forth against the wood. Finally, her Trainer was home and things were the way they were supposed to—

Wait a blasted minute.

What was that?

“Hello, Ella,” Cinder greeted her as she stepped out of the trees, as if everything were normal. “Did you miss me?”

Ella jumped to her feet with a furious bark, the Grumpig ear clattering down the stairs. Her tail stood straight out and her head reflexively jerked up and down, showing off her horns to the tiny, dirty, squirming thing that Cinder was carrying into their house.

To the Cyndaquil’s credit, she got the picture immediately. She didn’t even try to flare up her back before emitting a loud squeak and attempting to leap out of Cinder’s arms, presumably to scurry back to whatever hole in the ground she had come from.

Unfortunately, instead of coming to her senses and letting it go, Cinder held Cyndaquil tighter, close and protective. After a few seconds, she curled up timidly against her chest.

“Shh, relax, it’s okay. Ella’s not going to hurt you.” She narrowed her eyes warningly at Ella as she walked up the stairs and into the cabin. “Ella is going to be a nice girl and hear me out.”

No, Ella damn well would not. Not without standing her ground and making her case. She followed Cinder inside growling and bristling.

Once the door was shut behind them, the one Pokeball at Cinder’s belt burst open, and Talonflame flapped across the living area to his perch next to the fireplace. His beady black eyes watched them with unusual interest, and Ella resented the sense that she was putting on a show for him.

What’s gotten into you?! she barked at her Trainer, who had begun trying to coax Cyndaquil out of her defensive ball. You said all you needed was me! Why would you do this without even asking me?

True, all Cinder could hear was “Houndoom Houndoom Houndoom Houndoom,” but after all this time, Ella knew she was getting the gist of it.

“I realize that this is sudden,” Cinder began, her tone deliberately calm and even. “But I couldn’t exactly leave her there and run back to check with you. And we can’t just toss her out now that I’ve brought her here.”

Ella snorted. Very convenient for both of them. And how soon can I expect to be replaced? Was I that shameful of a starter?

With her free hand, Cinder reached over to grab a towel from the kitchenette and started rubbing the dirt from Cyndaquil’s damp fur. She let out a muffled squeak at the sudden touch, but didn’t uncurl.

“I expected to run into some people while I was out, that wasn’t the problem. There’s plenty of towns and cave systems around these mountains to look through. I didn’t plan on actually battling anyone, but apparently somebody on the trails had something to prove. One of those rich boys — you know the type, of course.”

Yes, they had met more than enough of those in their time. One of Cinder’s new teammates even seemed like one all grown up, complete with an equally smug Toxitricity by his side. Ella didn’t relax at all — in fact, her shoulders tensed up more — nor did she soften her accusing glare, but she did cease growling.

“So he won’t take no for an answer, won’t even break eye contact, and I decide that if he insists, I might as well teach him a lesson. He had three other Pokemon, and they were high-level but sloppy. I’d bet money that he didn’t catch them himself, that they were gifts or trades that he had no idea how to actually deal with. Talonflame made short work of them, but then — hm?”

Cyndaquil had been starting to lift her nose tentatively out of her defensive ball, and only now that she wasn’t too frightened to think did she notice the running slow cooker and containers of Pokemon food on the counter. The realization made her pick her head up and squeak loudly, and the smile that broke out on Cinder’s face was of the sort that Ella hadn’t seen in years.

“Are you hungry? I know, you’ve had a long day...” She dug around in the box of PokePuffs — not strictly belonging to Ella, but who else’s would they be? — and pulled out a Basic Spice to offer it. “Here, you can have this, can’t you?”

Cyndaquil sniffed the treat, and gnawed at it a little, but didn’t move to take or actually eat it. Cinder sighed.

“Well, I had hoped so, but I guess not.”

She gently pushed the treat into Cyndaquil’s stubby arms until they gripped it, and then knelt to set the tiny Pokemon on the floor. Ella tilted her head as she scowled down at her: what was the matter with her, stumbling around like that? Had she hit her head somehow?

Cinder shot Ella a warning glance that, in Ella’s mind, was completely uncalled for. “Be nice.”

Ella huffed, and stalked deliberately closer. Cyndaquil paused in trying to figure out what the PokePuff she held was, and looked worriedly between the human and Houndoom glaring at each other. Once Cinder was satisfied that Ella would not, in fact, rip the smaller Pokemon’s head off like some kind of feral beast, she turned around and started going through the cabinets and minifridge.

“I did beat his whole team, as far as I’m concerned,” she went on with her story as she retrieved the big saucepan and a carton of milk. “All the ones who were fit for battle. But when I held out my hand for the money he owed me, he went purple in the face and insisted that we weren’t done. He pulled another Pokeball out of his pocket, and sent her out. And of course she had no idea what was going on, did you, dear?”

Cyndaquil blinked, puzzled, and nearly tripped over her own chubby legs. Ella’s anger was very quickly giving way to confusion of her own; she knew that the average starter Pokemon wasn’t wildly powerful, to match its equally inexperienced Trainer, but surely they started at at least level one?

“No, she didn’t. I don’t know what garbage breeder they got her from, but she was definitely not ready to be separated from her mother. Even Talonflame backed off.”

Something finally clicked in Ella’s head, and her eyes went wide. She lunged forward, claws clacking on the hardwood floor, to sniff vigorously at Cyndaquil, who nearly fell over backwards in surprise. Under the rainwater and dirt, the scent of juvenile pheromones was unmistakable.

From up on his perch, Talonflame chirruped, amused. It really took you this long to notice? Do you usually growl at baby humans, too?

Ella was too stunned to even bark back. True, she didn’t spend any time around other Pokemon, but she should still have known...

“Obviously this spoiled brat had no business keeping her in his care,” Cinder said, stirring vanilla and cinnamon into the simmering pan. “But fortunately, it was very simple to set up an exchange.”

Talonflame chirruped, amused. Your Trainer throws a mean Mach Punch, Ella.

Cinder smirked at the fresh memory. With her free hand, she reached into her hip pouch, pulled out the shards of a shattered Pokeball, and tossed them into the trash can. Ella heard muffled clinks, and caught a glimpse of a coin purse that definitely was not theirs. Or, well, it hadn’t been before.

“I think it’s about time we start expanding our team, anyway. We’re in service to a very powerful leader now. We should be meeting a higher standard.” She glanced at Ella while digging back in the cabinet for the Vespiquen honey, and amended, “An even higher standard. I know this was a shock to you, Ella, and I don’t expect you to babysit her. But I couldn’t imagine a better example for her than you.”

Well. Ella couldn’t argue with that. She considered Cyndaquil for a moment more, watched her twitch her nose curiously up at her, and then ducked her head down to take the smaller Pokemon’s scruff in her mouth. As expected, she was still young enough that she went limp in her teeth.

Cinder blinked, but didn’t move to stop her. “Ella? What are you doing?”

Ella didn’t respond; she was already carrying Cyndaquil over to the living area. She laid down on the rug, deposited Cyndaquil between her front legs, and set about licking her short, downy fur. She wasn’t sure how Typhlosion mothers usually groomed their young — she barely remembered how her own mother had done it — but this felt right.

Cinder smiled and returned her attention to the pan on the stove. Cyndaquil, for her part, didn’t seem upset, but she was certainly confused.

Who... She was cut off by Ella’s wide tongue sweeping over the top of her head, but tried again. Who are you?

My name is Ella, she informed her, making sure to get the back of her neck. Cinder’s hasty rub with the towel hadn’t done anywhere near enough to rid her of the residue on her fur, and it certainly hadn’t done anything for the scrapes on the skin underneath. I am your teammate now.

Oh. Cyndaquil squirmed around some more until she could look up at Cinder’s back. That lady’s nice. And warm.

Her name is Cinder. She is your Trainer, and you should do as she tells you.

My Trainer’s sleeping on the ground back there, Cyndaquil said with innocent bluntness. I don’t think he got up yet.

Talonflame let out a deliberate, throaty laugh, and Ella shot a warning glare over her shoulder before returning to her ministrations.

You can forget about him, she insisted to Cyndaquil. All you need now is us.

Perhaps it was only because Cyndaquil was too young to fully grasp the reality of her new situation, but she didn’t question it any further. Instead, she settled down between Ella’s front legs and continued to watch Cinder make her dinner, submitting to a thorough grooming as she did so.

Talonflame tilted his head back and forth as he stared down at them. You’ve changed your tune quickly, haven’t you, Ella?

Shut up, said Ella curtly, in between licks. You’re not staying.

We’ll see about that, Talonflame replied, too lazily to be threatening, as he tucked his head beneath his wing for a brief nap. Wake me when dinner’s ready, will you?

Ella made a noncommittal noise in the back of her throat. She couldn’t find the room to care about that right now. Not when the cabin was steadily filling with sweet and savory scents, when the room was growing warm in the way it only did when the evening chill was falling outside, when there was a sense of comfort settling into her bones that she hadn’t felt in quite a long time.

Not since...ah.

Ella looked up at Cinder, who gave her a knowing smile back. Of course she remembered too.

~0~

It’s only the adrenaline surging through her veins that’s keeping her moving. She just wants to run, run, run, as far and as fast as she can, because if she stops for an instant they’ll catch her and drag her back, but she can’t feel her paws anymore and it’s very quickly not her decision.

The driving rain is already making it hard to see what’s in front of her, but then her vision blurs out completely, and she’s dropped right into a puddle before she even realizes her legs have buckled from underneath her. She doesn’t have the strength even to struggle back to her feet. All she can do is shuffle on her stomach through the mud, inch by miserable inch, until the sore tips of her toes brush rock, leaving behind smears of blood that are quickly washed away.

Her eyes flick upward: less of a cave than a hole in the ground, but she’ll take it. It’s a painful squeeze through an opening that’s just barely bigger than her own body. When she finally manages it, she collapses, lying like a wet pile of fur on the rough stone. Even here’s not really dry — cold runoff drips steadily right into her ear — but she couldn’t move to a better spot even if she tried.

She closes her eyes, the sound of her own labored breathing filling her head. She doesn’t know if she’ll ever get up again, and right now, she doesn’t much care. All that matters is that she’s not moving, that no one can touch her here.

So it takes her a good minute to register the strange scent wafting into her nostrils, underneath the heavy smells of rain and earth: acrid enough to make her nose twitch and fur raise. With a colossal effort, she lifts her head an inch, and finally notices that she is not alone here.

Barely a few feet away, desperately trying to cram herself into the far corner of the cave, is a human not much bigger than her. A little girl, just as skinny and soaked as she is, her amber eyes huge with terror. She wonders what she’s so afraid of — wonders if there’s anything behind her, if she should be afraid too — before realizing.

Oh. This was your hiding place first.

The girl doesn’t seem to have been here long: she’s out of breath, eyes puffy and red, and none of the mud spattering her once-white shirt and pants has dried. She gapes at her for a long moment, before hesitantly scooting forward and reaching out towards her ears.

What ear she has left pricks straight up. She might have intruded on this human, sure, but that doesn’t mean she gets to touch her.

Her hackles raise, her lips pull back, and she snaps at the offending fingers the second she realizes where they’re going. She misses — the girl gasps and scrambles back again, holding her hand protectively to her chest — and her smooth, flat-topped teeth clack painfully together.

“I-I’m sorry!” the girl yelps. “It’s just...you’re hurt.”

She’s fine. So what if her ears and tail had been cut into this awful shape? So what if she’s been robbed of her fangs, and now her claws? She’s still a Pokemon and not some spoiled brat’s toy. Still strong, strong enough to defend herself against one pathetic human.

She growls, but it’s weak even to her own ears. She is strong, it’s either tell herself that or lose hope completely, but she’s running on fumes. If she can’t fight back...if she can’t make them stop touching her...

The girl is doing something puzzling now, and it almost makes her let down her guard. She’s pawing at her shirt as if looking for something, but it doesn’t seem to have any pockets or other affectations. Then after a moment, to her shock, she grabs the one part of it that isn’t filthy, tears a long strip away, then tears that in half with a soft snap.

“Here...” She edges closer, slowing but not quite stopping at her growls. “I — I get it if you don’t want me touching your face. But your paws are bleeding, and...”

She narrows her eyes and keeps her teeth bared in warning: with the combustion pouch in her throat snipped or punctured or even pulled out entirely, whatever they had done to it, a cigarette lighter could produce a bigger flame than she can right now. But she doesn’t have to act like it.

The girl bites back a whimper, the smell of fear still coming off her in waves. “I’m not trying to hurt you, I promise. I just want to help. Please?”

Growls keep bubbling up from her throat, but they’re half-hearted. Against every instinct, she slides her front paws forward. The wounds on her half-amputated toes sting when the scratchy fabric wraps around them, but it’s a small relief to have the bleeding finally staunched.

The girl smiles. “There. Better?”

This close, she can see in the girl’s sunken cheeks and ashen skin how starved she is, spot the jagged outline of a fresh scar around her neck. The faint smell of human blood, not quite covered up by the muck, reaches her nose. Oh. So they really are in the same boat.

She goes quiet, and tries to relax, and is rewarded with the fear-scent steadily receding.

“My name’s Cinder. Do you have a name?”

She heaves a deep sigh in response; she’s never been called anything but mongrel, dumb mutt, dirty animal, and she’s pretty sure those don’t count as names.

“No? I’ll think of one for you, then. Just give me a little bit, I’ve never named anyone befo—aah!”

Thunder shakes what felt like the whole world around them, and they both jump so badly they hit their heads on the painfully low walls. She lets out a whine despite herself, curling tightly in on herself to keep from shaking. Cinder doesn’t look much happier, but instead of recoiling...

“Here...” Cinder mimics her, getting down and snuggling up next to her back on the floor. “I know I’m not very warm, but I should be better than nothing.”

She makes a soft noise of assent. When Cinder slings an arm over her shoulders, hugging her body close and gently petting her flank, it doesn’t exactly make her feel fuzzy on the inside. But it stirs something deep in her chest that she doesn’t have a name for yet, and it’s a welcome distraction from the cold and wet.

“We can stay here until the storm stops. We could figure out where to go together,” Cinder suggests, in a hesitant murmur. “We could be friends.”

Friends. She’s never heard the word before, and isn’t sure what it means, but she wouldn’t mind finding out. She twists her head around and licks Cinder’s cheek, and the girl giggles like she’s never tried to before.

The rain drives down hard and punishing outside, washing away all traces of them. Freezing droplets fall on them from the roof. They’re hungry, dirty, and shivering, with no idea of what they’re supposed to do next. But tonight they’re huddled together, the world outside this cramped little cave does not exist, and for the first time in their lives, they aren’t alone.

~0~

“Dinnertime,” Cinder said, balancing four dishes as she came into the living area. Talonflame stirred and flapped down from his perch to join them as she served the meal: beef stew from the slow cooker for the three of them and warm spiced milk for Cyndaquil.

The baby Pokemon let out her loudest squeak yet and bounced out of Ella’s legs when the dish was set beside her, but stopped short of actually going for it, looking up at them hesitantly.

“Go on. It’s all for you, dear.”

Cinder, sitting cross-legged on the floor with them, smiled as she watched the tiny Pokemon scramble eagerly towards the milk.

“You like it? There’s plenty more where that came from. We’re going to raise you to be big and strong, and one day nobody will dare mistreat you. Right, Ella?”

Ella loyally thumped her tail on the hardwood floor: she knew better than anyone. She knew that she wasn’t the starter Pokemon that every child dreamed about, nor, she conceded, had Cinder begun as the cool and confident Trainer that any Pokemon would want. But still they had fought every day to survive together, to become strong enough that nobody could ever lay a hand on them again.

She had evolved under Cinder’s command, and with evolution the body parts that had been carved away from her when she was young were restored to her. Most importantly, it had given her her fire back, and she knew in her heart that she would never have been able to reach that point on her own.

It was just like Cinder used to say, in the dead of one of their countless nights huddled up together: It’s all right if nobody else loves us. All we need is each other.

That had held steadfastly true for them, from childhood to adulthood. Ella saw no reason why the same could not apply to Cyndaquil, if she herself were magnanimous enough to allow it.

As she gulped down tender chunks of beef, she watched the tiny Pokemon lapping up the milk so earnestly she seemed in danger of falling headfirst into the dish. It had taken Ella a long time to train herself out of scarfing her food down like that, so fast she didn’t even taste it, to be sure that nobody would snatch it away from her now.

Though Toxitricity and Drapion still acted as if they would sometimes, just to get a rise out of her. While she was still small, Cyndaquil would be free to take refuge behind her legs or in Cinder’s arms, but soon Ella would have to teach her how to stand up for herself, and to not roll over for them or anyone else. There were a lot of things the two of them — three, if Talonflame decided to make himself useful — would be responsible for teaching their newest member. She ought to start making a list.

Not that there was much room in her head for that right now. Cyndaquil polished off the milk before the rest of them were halfway finished with their meal, and after licking the dish clean, she looked up and glanced uncertainly around at the three of them.

Now that there was nothing to distract her, it was starting to sink in that she was all by herself, in a strange place surrounded by strange people, with no idea what was going to happen to her next. Ella knew that feeling: the sudden drop in her stomach, the cold spreading like frost over her skin. She remembered. She expected that Cinder did, too.

Her Trainer was watching Cyndaquil intently, and at the first tiny whimper that might have been the prelude to crying, she set her bowl aside and held out her arms.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. Want to come here?”

With only slight reluctance, Cyndaquil allowed Cinder to scoop her into her lap. Smiling, she rubbed the tiny Pokemon’s belly with one hand and scratched the back of her neck, just above the incendiary spots, with the other. Cyndaquil let out a series of high-pitched cheeps and squirmed happily in her lap, clearly unused to such affection.

“There, you see?” Cinder cooed, as Cyndaquil twisted around so she could scratch under her chin. “Nothing to be afraid of. This is your home now, with me and your big sister Ella.”

Ella! Ella! Cyndaquil squeaked, delighted. She says we’re sisters!

Ella swallowed a chunk of potato and tilted her head at them. Sister. Another word she would soon be learning to embody.

~0~

The next morning, Ella found her need to pace militarily when impatient at war with her utter disgust of wetness and mud. They had planned a schedule for Cyndaquil’s first full day with them yesterday evening, and it would not do at all to start slacking so soon.

Last night, Cyndaquil had tried to sleep in the corner of the bedroom at first, clearly too used to being shunted out of the way. She had needed plenty of coaxing from Cinder and a commanding bark from Ella to feel safe climbing up onto the bed and letting herself be tucked in between them.

She had slept restlessly, kicking and yelping in her dreams, needing constant soothing to calm down. In the morning Ella had had to drag her exhausted body out from under her blanket, shaking the sleep out of her head. Even Cinder, who had always been a light sleeper anyway, had been rubbing her eyes as Cyndaquil followed her out of the bedroom, bouncing at her heels. Arceus only knew where the little Pokemon had gotten so much energy from.

Ella lifted a paw and shook excess mud from it, her lip curling. Cinder had said that they would only be a minute, it had now been several, and if they didn’t get out here in the next ten seconds she was going to march in there and drag her Trainer out with her teeth—

“Being patient, Ella?”

Ella turned and fixed Cinder with A Look as she watched her coming down the front steps of the cabin, determined not to return her easy smile just yet. She was supposed to have been introducing Cyndaquil to a new Pokeball, but as it happened...

“Yes, I know,” Cinder said, reaching up to steady Cyndaquil as she sprawled happily on her belly, atop her new Trainer’s head. “She does have a new Pokeball now, but I think she likes it better here with us. Right, dear?”

Cyndaquil chirped assent, grinning and swinging her stubby legs.

“You’ll need a proper name soon, too. But training comes first, so watch your sister carefully, now. Ella, if you would?”

Ella gave a firm nod and stepped back, facing the open space in front of the two of them, so Cyndaquil could get a good view of what she was about to demonstrate. The smaller Pokemon, while still idly playing with Cinder’s bangs, was staring transfixed at her. Ella doubted whether she could even muster up an Ember yet, let alone try Flamethrower. Well, then all the better a show for her.

She would never again take for granted how good it felt to flex the muscles in her throat and get her combustion pouch working. It was like taking a gulp of sweet smoke, sparklers lighting just under her skin, as the heat surged up from within her.

Maybe the need to show off to someone younger, which she had never had the chance to do before, gave her some extra fuel: the flames that burst from her mouth burned hotter and stronger than ever, brightening the overcast morning and sending steam hissing up from the puddles before her.

Cinder gave her an approving smirk and some soft applause, but Cyndaquil couldn’t contain herself.

Wow! She took a flying leap off of Cinder’s head and scurried to Ella’s side, mimicking her battle pose. My turn, my turn!

She opened her mouth, throat straining and tail sticking straight out, only to cough up the measliest crumb of flame that Ella had ever seen. It extinguished itself almost as soon as it had been ignited.

Oh, Cyndaquil said plaintively, tail drooping. I...

Ella gave her a nudge with her snout that she hoped was uplifting. Will try again, that’s what you’ll do. As long as it takes. Don’t look so downcast.

“Whatever Ella’s saying to you, she’s right, dear,” Cinder chimed in. “We’re going to become the strongest, but not overnight.”

You do have an advantage. I had to figure this all out on my own. Ella re-assumed her attack position. She would go slower this time, explain the physical aspects of combustion that were innate to all Fire-types, so the little one could better lean in to what felt most natural. You have me to look after you. And when you’re finally ready to be in a real battle, you’ll be far more prepared than the others. Understand?

Cyndaquil nodded very seriously, then mirrored her once more, sparks flying already from her arched back.

Good. Now, watch closely...

#self indulgent pokemon AU is self indulgent #cinder fall #RWBY #pokemon #houndoom #cyndaquil #kaen's fics

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peachbear88 · 3 years ago

Text

Tale as Old as Time (Pt 2)

A/N: Part 2! We're getting there people!

-----------------

The metal gates swing open with a rusty whine.

Your eyes snap open and you grab your chamber pot, and club the figure over the head.

"Ow!" The figure exclaims, falling over.

You brandish the pot as menacingly as possible, given the awkward angle.

"Who are you?" You demand, your voice cracking. He rubs the growing lump on his head.

"You hit hard madmoiselle," He responds, ignoring your question. Another set of footsteps, heavier ones echo off the stone tower. You gulp, as the figure arrives to reveal a skinny but tall man wearing what appears to be a gold pendant.

"Don't scare the poor girl Pietro. In fact, you shouldn't even be letting the prisoner out!" The man chided. The blond boy (supposedly) named Pietro laughed, ruffling his hair. He zooms over to where the man is, leaving a faint blue mist behind him.

"What's wrong doc? Scared what'll happen when my sister finds out?" He teases and the doctor shoves him away, wrapping his floating red cloak tighter around him.

"Oh shut up." Pietro turns back to you.

"So. You're the new prisoner." He looks you up and down. You drop the pot and it hits the floor with a loud clang, making him flinch.

"Yep, that's me. Come to kill me at last?" You question, raising your arms as if to embrace death. He bursts into laughter, slapping the tall man on the shoulder.

"Oh man! Strange, did you hear that? She thinks we're going to kill her!" He keeps laughing while the man named Strange rolls his eyes, muttering something about stupid kids.

"So... You're not going to kill me?" You inquire hopefully. Pietro's laughter dies off as he wipes tears from his eyes.

"Kill you? When you could be the one to break the curse? I think not." He shakes his head as if you were the foolish one before thrusting his hand out. "After you."

You walk down the stairs hesitantly, the bright walls of the hallways a stark contrast to your dim cell.

After a few moments, you can't take it anymore, your curiosity getting the best of you.

"What was that you said about a curse?" Pietro instantly pales, shoving you rather forcefully along the hallway.

"Did I say curse? I meant uh-" He stutters, his eyes frantically scanning the area for an excuse. "I mean purse!" He waves the bag in front of your face. "Break the purse!"

You stare at him.

"Break the purse." You repeat skeptically. Strange pushes you along, seemingly in a hurry.

"Oh look! We've arrived at our destination." He pushes the grand golden doors open and your jaw drops. A beautiful, extravagant bedroom lays behind the doors, the ceiling arching up and curving into a golden dome.

"Wow..." You gasp, twirling around in the room.

"Mistress wanted you to have the finest." Strange replies, bowing low. You snort.

"That girl from earlier?" You look him up and down. "No offence but you look more like you should be her master." He opens his mouth to reply but Pietro cuts him off, shoving him out of the room.

"Well, we'll let you get settled! We hope you'll join us for dinner!" With one last shove, the two disappear from the doorway, leaving you to your own devices.

The moment the door slams shut behind them, you scan the room, your eyes landing on the silken sheets adorning the mattress. You make quick work of it, tearing it into long, thin strips.

"Okay. I can work with this."

------------

A small knock sounds out and you frantically shove the long strip of cloth away.

"Come in!" You call out and a menacing looking woman comes in, followed by a boy around the age of 15, wearing a red and blue costume with what appears to be a spider on it. You gape at the odd duo.

"Is that... A spider?" You murmur and the boy bounds into action, sticking his arm out for you to shake.

"Hi! My name's Peter. Peter Parker." You smile at his bubbly demeanor.

"Y/N." The woman's eyes never leave you, examining you. You shrink under her gaze.

"Right! This is Ms Natasha Romanoff. She may look really scary but she's actually a massive softie." Peter whispers confidentially and Natasha smacks him on the head. You laugh at their familial dynamic.

"It's a pleasure to meet you sweetie," She curtseys and you smile. "Please ignore this dumb child." She gestures to Peter.

"Hey!" He exclaims indignantly. You giggle.

"Well, we came to welcome you to our humble abode. Cup of tea?" She proffers and you smile, accepting it. The scent is heavenly, the right amount of sweetness and bitterness. "I find that a perfect cup of tea is just what we all need when it gets rough."

You smile weakly.

"Thank you. Why are you being so nice to me?" Natasha sighs, watching Peter swing around your room, little webs coming from his wrists.

"Well dear, we're all prisoners here as well. Might as well make the best of it." She shrugs and ushers Peter out of the room, leaving you deep in thought.

------------

Steve sighs, his feet in Sam's lap, warming his frozen fingers by the fire. The noise of the pub does little to raise his spirits.

"How could she possibly reject me? The most handsome man in the village!" He sighs again while Sam massages his feet. Sam throws the feet off his lap.

"Gosh it disturbs me to see you Steve,"

"Looking so down in the dumps."

"Every guy here'd love to me you Steve!"

"Even when taking your lumps." He cries, massaging Steve's ears.

"There's no man in town as admired as you,"

"You're everyone's favorite guy."

"Everyone's awed and inspired by you,"

"And it's not very hard to see why."

He drops a few coins into the bar musicians hand.

"No one's slick as Rogers,"

"No one's quick as Rogers,"

"No one's neck's as incredibly thick as Rogers!' He exclaims, twisting the neck of a rather large man rather violently, a large crack echoing around the pub.

"For there's no man in town half as manly."

"Perfect, a pure paragon!" The fair girls pipe up from behind Sam. He hops onto the bar, sitting in between 3 very drunk men.

"You can ask any Tom, Dick or Stanley,"

"And they'll tell you whose team they'd prefer to be on..." He slaps them on the back of their heads, giving them a pointed stare until they catch on.

"Who plays..."

"Darts like Rogers!'

"Who breaks..."

"Hearts like Rogers!"

"Who's much more than the sum of his parts like Rogers!"

Steve warms up to the attention, flashing a debonair smile at everyone.

"As a specimen, yes, I'm intimidating!"

"My what a guy, that Rogers!" The people cry, raising their mugs and splatters beer everywhere.

"I needed encouragement,"

"Thank you, Sam." He exclaims, slapping Sam on the shoulders.

"Well there's no one as easy to bolster as you!" He wraps Steve in a tight embrace for a bit too long.

"Too much?"

"Yep." They disentangle their limbs from each other.

"No one the fights like Rogers,"

"Douses lights like Rogers." To emphasize their point, Steve licks both his hands and slaps them onto the candles, extinguishing them with a satisfying hiss.

"In a wrestling match, nobody bites like Rogers!" Sam pulls his shirt up to reveal a deep bite on his abdomen. A few people squeal.

"When I hunt, I sneak up with my quiver,"

"And beasts of the field say a prayer."

"First I carefully aim for the liver,"

"Then I shoot from behind."

"Is that fair?" Sam pipes up.

"I don't care."

"No one hits like Rogers,"

"Matches wits like Rogers,"

"In a spitting match, nobody spits like Rogers!"

"I'm especially good at expectorating!" He throws his head back and hocks up a good chunk of spit which lands in the pot Sam is holding.

"Ten points for Rogers!"

"When I was a lad, I ate four dozen eggs,"

"Every morning to help me get large." He grabs nearby woman by the waist and lifts her onto his right arm. The fair girls swoon.

"And now that I'm grown, I eat five dozen eggs,"

"So I'm roughly the size of a barge!" He slowly grabs Sam and lifts him onto his left arm, making the crowd gasp.

Steve drops them both and jumps onto the long table, tap dancing with the two other ladies. Sam grabs decorative swords and tosses them to a few men while Steve keeps dancing. They jump onto the table, brandishing their swords menacingly. The ladies jump out of the way as Steve draws his own sword. He clubs one over the head, spinning around and pretends to stab another dramatically. With a large flourish, he raises the sword to mimic the mural of himself on the wall behind him.

"Who has brains like Rogers?"

"Entertains like Rogers?" Sam belts out but Steve pushes him aside.

"Who can make up these endless refrains like Rogers?" Steve bellows, raising his arms.

"I use antlers in all of my decorating."

"Say it again!"

"Who's a man among men?"

"Who's the super success?"

"Don't you know? Can't you guess?"

"Ask his fans and his five hangers-on."

"There's just one guy in town,"

"Who's got all of it down..."

"And his name's S-T- Uh... I believe it's a D after?" Sam begins tentatively as Steve glares at him. "It just occurred to me that I'm illiterate, and I've never actually had to spell it out loud before..."

"Steve Rogers!"

The crowd bursts into a final round of applause, settling down as they dive deep into the hazy fumes of alcohol again.

"Ah, thank you Sam! I don't know what I'd do without you." Steve exclaims, plopping back down into his cushioned armchair. "How is it no woman has picked you up yet?"

"Well, I've been told I'm clingy but I don't really get it." Sam mutters obliviously, his arms draped around Steve's shoulders. Steve nods awkwardly.

A loud bang echoes into the pub and Tony comes rushing in, disheveled.

"You must help me! She's got Y/N! Please, you must help!" He cries, falling to his knees. Steve stays back while Sam rushes forwards.

"Tony, calm yourself. Who's got Y/N?" He asks soothingly.

When Tony looks back up, fear shines through his glassy eyes.

"The witch."

--------------

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