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theetherealbloom · 3 months ago

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NOTRE DAME - CH. 8

Chapter 8: We’re Nothing But Myths Now That Neither Of Us Believe In

Summary: In the rafters of Clinton Church, a mysterious reader with magic and the power of illusion manipulation silently watches over Matt Murdock, the blind vigilante known as Daredevil. As danger engulfs Hell's Kitchen, their unlikely friendship blossoms into a bond of trust and longing, intertwining their fates in a battle against darkness that tests their resolve. Will their connection illuminate a path to salvation in a city of darkness or lead them deeper into the abyss?

Paring: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Hurt to Comfort, ANGST, strangers-to-friends-to-lovers, Religion, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, Anxiety, PSTD, Nightmares, Catholic Guilt, Amnesia, Violence, Blood, Dark Undertones, Eventual SMUT, Shy Reader, Mentions of Abuse, Criminal Activities, Mobsters/Mafia, Character Death, Slowish Burn (I lied it’s a SLOW BURN), Disassociation, Magic, Superpowers, Insecurities, Guns, Bullets,

Word Count: 7.3k

A/N: WELCOME TO S2!!! I TOOK A LONG ASS BREAK FROM THIS STORY IM SORRY!! At some point, I got stuck and was so scared to keep writing… ANYWAYS “Started making it… had a breakdown… Bon Appetit. 🙂”

Song: Hurt by Sleeping At Last

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A FEW MONTHS LATER…

KAMAR-TAJ, NEPAL — SUNSET

"Again."

Your frustration boiled over as you let your hands fall to your sides, the faint shimmer of your magic fading into the morning air. With a heavy sigh, you cast an irritated glance skyward, then towards Ancient One's patient gaze meeting yours.

"Again," she repeated, her tone unwavering.

Months had passed since the apprehension of Wilson Fisk, yet your progress in mastering the art of teleportation remained agonizingly slow.

"What if I just throw myself off the temple?" you quipped, a trace of exasperation in your voice.

"Perhaps you should. Sometimes, the greatest lessons come from unexpected places," came the Ancient One's cryptic response.

You groaned audibly, clearly expressing how frustrated you were. "This is hopeless. We’ve been at this for months, and I can barely teleport across the courtyard."

"You need to focus. It's a miracle you didn't end up scattered across the multiverse on your first attempt at teleportation without a sling ring," the Ancient One remarked, her voice tinged with a blend of patience and admonishment.

Your eyes closed in frustration, a heavy sigh escaping your lips as you hung your head, shoulders weighed down by the burden of your struggles. Sensing your inner turmoil, the Ancient One regarded you with a penetrating gaze.

"Is this about Matthew?" she inquired, her tone gentle yet probing.

Your arms folded defensively across your chest, you shot her a guarded look. "I do not want to discuss my personal life with you," you retorted.

Undeterred, the Ancient One raised an eyebrow, prompting you to relent. With a resigned grimace, you approached and seated yourself beside her on the steps of the temple courtyard.

"I haven't told him yet," you admitted, the pressure of your unspoken truth evident in your troubled expression.

"And I'm terrified of what comes next. I have a feeling that our encounter with Fisk was merely the beginning of something far greater than any of us," you confessed, anxiety lacing your words.

The Ancient One regarded you with a pitying expression, her gaze fixed upon you as she spoke, her voice carrying an otherworldly resonance. "Prophet girl, anointed by the One Above All," she began, her words imbued with a sense of ancient wisdom. "Do you hear the gods muttering their faint starlight words? Destined daughter, muttering insanities no one believes,” she continued, her tone tinged with sorrow. "Do you regret taking the vow?" Your jaw clicked with tension, but you remained silent, unable to muster a response. As the Ancient One turned to leave, her form blending seamlessly with the shifting rays of the setting sun, you were left alone with your thoughts. The golden hues of twilight painted the landscape, casting long shadows across the temple courtyard as the day drew to a close.

A WEEK LATER…

2624 BROADWAY, NEW YORK — EVENING

The golden portal sealed shut with a soft hum as you trudged through the alleyway, the cool air of the night enveloping you. Casting a cautious glance around, you found the dimly lit alley deserted except for a stray cat rummaging through a nearby dumpster.

Though you could have requested to be sent back to the church, you opted for a solitary stroll to clear your head, despite the lingering soreness in your muscles. With a resigned sigh, you rolled your shoulders back and stepped onto the bustling streets, seamlessly blending into the flow of pedestrians.

The silence was broken abruptly by the cracking sound of gunfire coming from behind you and a terrified cry from a lady. Whipping around, your senses heightened as you spotted a group of armed robbers clad in ski masks, each clutching a silver briefcase tightly in one hand and brandishing a gun in the other. Reacting instinctively, you extended your arm, swiftly maneuvering bystanders out of harm's way as the robbers barrelled past.

Moments later, the urgent wail of police sirens pierced the air, signaling the arrival of law enforcement. Two officers darted into view, hot on the heels of the fleeing robbers. Yet, before they could apprehend the criminals, a sudden gunshot rang out, causing one of the officers to stagger and fall to the ground.

Amid the chaos, you swiftly directed one of the bystanders, your voice firm and authoritative, as you dashed past them in pursuit of the fleeing robbers. "Call 911! And apply pressure on that wound!" you instructed urgently, your words punctuated by the urgency of the situation.

Navigating through the bustling streets with purposeful strides, you veered into a nearby alley, utilizing it as a shortcut. With a deft flick of your hand, you manipulated the fabric of your clothes, transforming them into a cloak that billowed around you as you emerged from the shadows. Spotting a police officer kneeling on the ground, vulnerable to the imminent threat posed by the robber's gun, you felt a surge of energy course through you.

With swift precision, you seized the assailant from the shadows, pulling him into the confines of the alleyway. The dim light cast eerie shadows across your features as you unleashed a flurry of strikes, each blow calculated and purposeful, momentarily subduing the robber.

However, your solitary vigilante act was short-lived, as the distinctive presence of Daredevil materialized beside you, his imposing figure radiating an aura of determination. With a fluid motion, he intervened, swiftly incapacitating the assailant with a decisive blow before turning his attention to the pursuit of the remaining robbers.

"I was wondering when you would show up," you remarked, your voice tinged with the subtle distortion of your powers. Daredevil's lips curled into a smirk, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes as he regarded you.

"Missed me, angel?" he teased, his voice laced with a playful undertone.

Tilting your head slightly, you lowered your hood, revealing a fraction more of your face as you shrugged nonchalantly. "And if I did?" you countered, your tone laced with a hint of shyness.

His lips curled into a charming smile, a glint of mischief in his tone. "Then I'd have to kiss you," he quipped, his tone playful yet suggestive.

You responded with a playful roll of your eyes, a smirk playing at the corners of your lips. With a light bump of your hip against his, you teased, "Let's deal with these guys first, and then we can discuss dinner plans."

You and Daredevil dashed into the bustling kitchen of a Chinese restaurant, slipping through the backdoor with practiced ease. In perfect synchrony, you swiftly engaged the assailants, each movement calculated and precise. With a surge of power, you ignited your hands, the iridescent glow casting an ethereal light as you delivered a series of decisive blows, swiftly incapacitating your opponent and leaving them to the restaurant staff as they began to gang up on him.

You and Matt burst back onto the chaotic streets, a whirlwind of action and determination. Matt swiftly dealt with one of the robbers with a decisive blow, rendering him unconscious as you raced past. You spotted the final assailant, his grip tight around the arm of a woman conversing with her friends outside a building. Without hesitation, he dragged her hostage, disappearing into a nearby church.

You cast a glance at Matt, his breath heavy as he stands at your side, his red suit a stark contrast against the dimly lit alleyway. With his billy clubs gripped firmly in hand, he appears every bit the vigilante defender Hell's Kitchen has come to rely on. As you peer ahead at the imposing doors of the church, doubts gnaw at your resolve. How much longer could you maintain the facade? The fear of his disappointment weighs heavily on your mind, threatening to unravel the fragile balance between truth and secrecy.

You push aside the gnawing fear, burying it deep within as you trail behind the Devil's imposing figure into the solemn sanctuary of the church. With a swift strike, he shatters the light, the echo of glass breaking resonating through the sacred space. Gunshots ring out, a chaotic symphony of danger, as the robber unleashes a barrage of bullets, blindly firing into the darkness. But in the middle of all the turmoil, the flickering lights created an ethereal glow that highlighted the two of you standing guard at the door, your silhouettes a sharp contrast to the darkness.

Two shots pierce the air, but you and Matt evade them effortlessly, a dance of survival in the dimly lit church. With practiced precision, he swiftly disarms the robber, while you, with a gentle touch, render him unconscious, the power coursing through your fingertips quelling the threat. As the assailant falls, you offer a comforting squeeze to the girl's shoulder, a silent reassurance amidst the chaos. With a shared nod, you and Matt ascend to the rooftop, vanishing into the cover of night as the wails of police sirens herald their arrival.

PARK AVE & E 118TH ST, NEW YORK — DAY

"You ever wake up in the morning…" Foggy begins with a heavy sigh, his tone laden with fatigue. "From the second you get out of bed, it's like… every molecule in your body hurts?"

"No, never," Matt responds with a playful smirk, his hand resting on the crook of your arm as you guide him through the bustling streets, Foggy walking alongside.

"I'm in agony, dude," Foggy groans, eliciting chuckles from you and Matt alike.

Matt's smile widens. "What, did you go back to the gym?"

"Hell, no. Do I look capable of making healthy life choices?" Foggy retorts, prompting a raised eyebrow from Matt.

"Why am I even here?" you interject teasingly as you look between your two friends.

"Because you missed us.” Matt grins and then continues, “And you wanted to grab some supplies for the church by the store near the office, and you said you wanted to help in the office today after you heard about what had happened to Mrs. Almeida," Matt explains patiently.

"Oh, right, okay, gimme a sec, I’ll be right back," you reply, darting into the store to retrieve your items.

As you engage in conversation with the kind lady at the register, the voices of Matt and Foggy continue in the background, their discussion gradually fading into a distant murmur. Through the glass doors of the store, you catch glimpses of them still deep in conversation, their expressions earnest as they deliberate over matters that could range from Matt's nighttime activities to the recent client who sought refuge at Nelson & Murdock.

The name Zuly Almeida comes to mind, bringing back memories of the recent troubles that had shaken your workplace. Her desperate plea for help had come in the dead of night, her life dangling by a thread as she recounted the horrors of her situation. You had helped her find safety with Matt's help, recommending the shelter for battered women where you volunteered, only to learn of the news that he woke up in a hospital with two broken arms and a restraining order safety pinned to his chest.

Exiting the store with your paper bag in hand, you catch Foggy's smile directed at you, a warmth in his eyes mirrored by Matt's grin. You inquire, "What's going on?"

"Foggy's got me swearing on my life," Matt replies, his hand finding its familiar place on your arm.

"Don't mock me," Foggy retorts, his tone laced with playful seriousness, while Matt's chuckle punctuates the air as he forms a cross over his heart. "I swear."

"Alright, you guys need to get to work before Karen loses her mind," you agree, adjusting to the heaviness of the bag in your hand.

"Yeah, this heat's killing me," Foggy continues, sounding a little uncomfortable with the weather.

NELSON & MURDOCK ATTORNEY’S AT LAW OFFICE – MORNING

“Good morning, guys. You take the scenic route this morning?” Karen says while popping a hip out and you take note of the crowded waiting room in the office.

“Morning to you, too.”

“Morning, Karen.”

“I tried to make them walk faster.” You loudly whisper to Karen as you hand her a coffee and some croissants.

"Thank you, I appreciate you helping," Karen says, her smile warm and grateful. You return the smile, then turn to Matt and Foggy, a touch of humor in your voice.

"Alright, you're all fed and caffeinated," you say briskly. "I’ll take my leave now. I need to head over to the shelter and then stop by the DA’s office to sign and drop off some papers. I’ll catch you guys later."

You’re just about to turn when Karen calls out, "Wait!"

You pause, eyebrows raised as you meet her gaze. "Yeah?"

"Will you swing by Josie’s with us later? Grab a couple of drinks, maybe play some pool?" Karen asks, her expression hopeful. You glance at Foggy and Matt, who are both watching you expectantly, waiting for your reply.

You hesitate for a moment, juggling your commitments in your mind. "Uh… yeah, sure," you finally say with a smile. "I’ll see if I can swing by if nothing comes up."

Karen’s face lights up, and she lets out a little cheer. "Okay! Yes! Great, thank you!"

You wave them off with a quick goodbye, heading for the door. As you step outside, the cheerful chorus of farewells from your friends follows you, their voices muffled as the door swings shut behind you.

You linger in the hallway just outside the door, the soft hum of the fluorescent lights overhead filling the silence. Taking a deep breath, you let it settle into your lungs, grounding you. You try to collect your scattered thoughts, brushing off the creeping exhaustion that’s taken root in your bones.

After a moment, you turn, making your way down the narrow, dimly lit staircase. The wooden steps creak under your weight, each sound echoing off the walls, like a heartbeat reverberating in the quiet of the old building.

As you reach the bottom, your gaze catches on the worn, slightly faded sign mounted on the wall: Nelson and Murdock, Attorneys at Law. You feel a familiar pang, an ache in your chest that comes from memories and ties that run deeper than you sometimes care to admit.

You let out a slow, deliberate breath, steeling yourself as you reach out, brushing your fingers across the lettering. It’s a quiet promise to yourself—a way to remind yourself why you’re here, why you keep coming back despite the burden of secrets, the ever-growing distance between you and the people you care about.

Cut the costs, limit the feeling, you tell yourself. It’s become a mantra of sorts, a shield you wear to keep from getting hurt, to keep from hurting anyone else. And yet, standing here, it feels thinner than ever, as if one wrong move could tear it apart completely.

But you push that thought down, lock it away. There’s no room for weakness. Not here. Not now.

With one last glance at the sign, you straighten up and step out onto the bustling street, letting the noise of the city swallow you whole.

JOSIE’S BAR – EVENING

The bar’s packed, dim lights casting a hazy glow over the bustling crowd. Shots are passed around, laughter mingling with the sounds of clinking glasses. You’re standing by the pool table with Matt, Karen, and Foggy, the familiar warmth of camaraderie thick in the air.

Karen lines up her shot, her focus intense as she takes aim, the pool cue sliding through her fingers with practiced ease. The ball sinks into the pocket, and Matt chuckles, holding his beer close.

“See, I don’t know, that definitely sounded like cheating to me, Miss Page,” he says, his voice laced with a playful skepticism.

Foggy scoffs, gripping his own cue stick, a mischievous gleam in his eye. “Matt, are you sure we’re not being hustled here?” he stage-whispers, glancing at Karen with faux suspicion.

“As sure as Josie’s AC is busted,” Foggy adds, shrugging.

Right on cue, Josie appears with two pitchers of ice water, a smirk on her face as she overhears them. “What AC?” she snorts, setting the pitchers down with a thud.

Karen moves to grab one, but the three of you shout in unison, “Oh!”

Matt and Foggy quickly interject, words tumbling out in a rush.

“No, you don’t wanna do that,” Foggy warns, his tone almost grave.

“You can’t drink the water here,” Matt adds, an amused smile playing at his lips.

“Josie’s pipes… they’ve got issues,” Foggy continues, and Matt chimes in with a knowing nod. “Rust, mold.”

Foggy leans closer to peer into the pitcher, feigning horror. “I think I can actually see the bacteria floating in there.”

Karen pulls her hand back with a shudder, wrinkling her nose. “Oh, ew. Ew.”

Matt chuckles, taking a swig of his drink. “That’s why we keep our cocktails neat.”

You sip on your ginger ale, hiding a grin as Foggy laughs, “Just pretend you’re abroad, someplace exotic. No mojitos, though—Josie just throws mint in the beer.”

Matt’s laughter echoes softly, and then Foggy nudges you with his cue stick, raising his brows in mock anticipation. “Come on, your turn.”

You raise a skeptical eyebrow, holding up your hands. “I don’t know how to play.”

“Right,” Foggy sighs, smirking as he hands his cue to Matt. “Take over, buddy. I gotta hit the head. And don’t let her out of your four working senses. She’s as quick as she is beautiful.” He pauses, casting you a cheeky grin. “Reminds me of myself.”

Foggy ambles off to the bathroom, and as you stand between Matt and Karen, you notice the way she leans in close to him, her laughter soft and genuine. There’s a lightness in her expression, an ease that somehow feels like it belongs.

Something twists in your chest. You clear your throat, mumbling, “I’m gonna go grab another ginger ale… be right back.”

You weave through the crowd, slipping up to the bar, where Josie hands you a fresh ginger ale without a word, just a quick, knowing nod. Leaning on the bar, you steal a glance back toward the pool table, watching as Karen leans over, adjusting Matt’s grip on the cue stick. She’s laughing, he’s smiling, and there’s an undeniable spark that hangs between them.

“Aren’t they something to admire?” Josie murmurs over your shoulder, her voice low, and it takes all your willpower not to let the sting show.

You force a tight smile, nodding. “Yeah. They are.”

As you shift your weight, you accidentally bump into someone standing nearby—a man with shaggy blonde hair, a heavy coat clinging to his shoulders despite the stifling warmth in the bar. He looks like he’s been sweating bullets, and his gaze darts around, uneasy.

“Sorry,” you murmur, offering a quick nod.

He merely grunts in acknowledgment, his eyes flicking past you, but something about him feels… off. Years of working in shelters have taught you how to read people, and he wears the tension of someone with something to hide.

“Hey, you new around here?” you ask, giving him a careful once-over.

He swallows a sip of his drink before replying, voice low and gruff. “No, actually.”

Before you can press further, you feel a gentle yet firm grip on your elbow. Turning, you see Matt beside you, his face calm but his expression etched with a subtle concern that only you can read.

“You okay?” he asks, his hand lingering as if ready to pull you away.

You give him a reassuring nod. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just…” You glance back at the stranger, then decide to offer a word of caution. “Hey, it’s all right. Just letting you know, this place has good people. Lots of places a guy like you could drink. Just saying.”

The man shakes his head, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “It’s not what you think. I got business here. With Nelson and Murdock.”

Matt’s grip on your arm tightens, his posture shifting ever so slightly, like he’s readying himself for a confrontation. He subtly angles himself between you and the man, his body language protective, a silent barrier.

The man’s gaze slides to Matt, his eyes narrowing as he takes him in. “You must be the blind one,” he mutters, a hint of a sneer in his voice.

Matt’s expression doesn’t falter, his jaw set as he holds his ground, his presence an unspoken warning. You can feel the tension simmering between them, thick and charged, as the crowded bar fades into the background.

JOSIE'S BAR – NIGHT

The bar hums with low chatter and the clinking of glasses, but the quiet tension at your table cuts through it all. You, Matt, Foggy, Karen, and the stranger—sit in a tight circle, leaning in to hear his story, his voice rough and hurried, carrying the weight of something horrific.

“Fifteen men,” he says, looking each of you in the eye, his gaze darting from face to face. “Tough Irish. Armed. All of them blown away. It was a massacre. We weren't hit by any rival family there. I'm telling you, we were… hit by an army.”

Foggy raises an eyebrow, leaning back slightly as he holds his beer. “That’s quite the story,” he says, tone skeptical but edged with curiosity.

“It’s a fact.” His voice drops to a near growl, his hand clenching the edge of the table. “And believe me, you can go see for yourself. Burren Club, 47th and 10th. Can’t miss it. It’s the… part of New York that looks like a goddamn war zone.”

Karen leans forward, her eyes narrowing as she studies him. “What’s your involvement in their organization?” she asks, her voice steady, probing.

The stranger’s gaze shifts, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face. “Who are they?” he asks, eyeing both you and Karen with suspicion.

Foggy doesn’t miss a beat, his tone hardening. “Answer the question.”

The man sighs, seeming to deflate just a bit. “Brannigan. I’ve run with them for a long time. I don’t deny it. Pick-ups, drop-offs… sometimes doing things I shouldn’t be.” He rubs a hand over his face, guilt flickering in his eyes. “No question, I’m… I’m no choir boy. I’m tellin’ ya, I just skirt the surface. Unlike the men I work for, and the guys that did this. I’m telling ya, I had nothing to do with that massacre.”

You glance over at Matt, watching as he tilts his head, focusing in that subtle way he does when he’s listening more intently than anyone else at the table. After a moment, he gives a slight nod to Foggy, the confirmation unspoken but clear— he isn’t lying.

Matt leans in, his voice calm but firm. “Assuming you’re correct, and the Irish were hit by a powerful crime syndicate tonight… if you’re the only one who survived, your good fortune’s gonna rub some dangerous people the wrong way.”

He snorts, his expression a mix of fear and frustration. “No shit! I got a pack of killers gunning for my men. My people think I’m a traitor or a rat.”

Foggy nods slowly, tapping his fingers on the table. “So, what can Nelson and Murdock do for you, Mister…”

“Grotto,” he says, cutting in quickly. “Just Grotto.”

Matt’s brow arches, unimpressed. “Grotto what?”

“Just Grotto.” He sighs, his voice dropping, almost pleading. “Witness protection. You guys need to get me the hell out of here before I end up in the only place hotter than this… permanent.”

Matt shakes his head slightly. “We’re a private law firm,” he points out, though there’s a trace of sympathy in his tone.

“Yeah, but a trustworthy one. You got quite a reputation after you took out Wilson Fisk.” Grotto’s gaze shifts, desperation settling into his features.

Foggy sighs, shaking his head. “The DA’s office is the only place that can make a deal.”

Grotto’s jaw tightens. “Yeah, well, I’m not walking to the DA without representation. I know a lot. I’ve seen a lot. I’ll give the cops anything to get me out of Hell’s Kitchen.”

Matt’s expression hardens. “We have a reputation for representing the good people of Hell’s Kitchen, not for negotiating on behalf of career criminals.”

Grotto’s shoulders slump, and he casts a weary glance at each of you, his voice breaking just a little. “What if a criminal wants to… change his career? A second chance, that’s all I want. I know I’m only coming here with my word. I got nobody to vouch for me, but I can… barely cover your fee. But word is… that Nelson and Murdock put their faith in people. And I need a little of that right now.” His gaze turns pleading, desperate. “Please.”

There’s a moment of silence. Matt sighs, the tension in his expression softening slightly, and he shares a look with Foggy. Finally, Foggy nods, his voice firm but reluctant. “Lie low. We’ll look into it.”

Matt leans forward, his tone cautious. “You have somewhere you can stay?”

But before Grotto can respond, his face goes ghostly white. His hand trembles as it knocks against his glass, which slips from his grasp and shatters on the floor. In the same instant, his body slumps, collapsing to the ground with a heavy thud.

Instinct takes over, and you’re the first to move, rushing to his side. You kneel down, your fingers pressing against his neck as you check for a pulse. He’s clammy, unresponsive. Your hand brushes aside his coat, revealing a dark, wet stain spreading across his shirt—a wound, still bleeding.

“Guys, he’s bleeding,” you say, urgency sharp in your voice as you look up at the others. “Someone call 911.”

The world around you fades to the background as you work, your focus narrowing in on Grotto, who’s barely holding on. The bar’s noise, the patrons, everything else becomes a distant hum, your mind honing in on one thing—keeping him alive long enough to get help.

Matt, Karen, and Foggy exchange tense looks before Foggy fumbles for his phone, dialing with shaky fingers. Time feels like it’s slipping through your hands, each second marked by the faint, unsteady rhythm of Grotto’s heartbeat under your fingertips.

BURREN CLUB — NIGHT

The humid evening air clings to your skin as you, Matt, and Foggy make your way through the crowd gathered outside the Burren Club. The blue and red lights from NYPD cruisers flash, casting long shadows across the grim faces of onlookers. People crane their necks, desperate for answers, while the officers keep them at bay. You catch sight of Brett Mahoney by the police tape, managing the restless crowd. His expression is hard, tired, as he fields questions from civilians.

“The paramedics said he’s stable,” you say, wiping your sweaty palms on your jeans. Your voice is steady, but the adrenaline from earlier hasn’t fully faded. “They’re taking him to Metro-General Hospital. I told Karen to text me when he woke up.”

Just ahead, you hear a man’s frantic plea. “Hey, I just need to know if my brother’s in there!”

Brett shakes his head, holding his ground. “Step back, please. I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t answer that right now.”

Foggy lifts his hand, calling out, “Hey, Brett!”

Matt’s hand grips your arm as he maneuvers his cane with his other hand, letting you guide him around the clusters of people and the scattered debris. You glance at the scene unfolding before you—a forensics team combing through evidence, cops sectioning off the area, the dull murmur of a distressed crowd. The entire place is bathed in tension, thick as the heat that presses down on the night.

Brett turns to see you all approaching, and his expression barely softens. Foggy gives him a small shrug. “I would say it’s good to see you, but under the circumstances…”

Brett’s brow lifts, unimpressed. “Would you please step aside, sir?”

“We just have a couple of questions, Brett,” Matt says, his voice calm but purposeful.

Brett sighs, rolling his eyes. “If you’re here to chase ambulances, you might notice there are none.”

Foggy forces a casual chuckle, but his eyes stay sharp. “Any leads on what happened?”

Brett doesn’t give an inch. “Oh, you wanna know what went down? Read about it in the papers like everybody else.”

“We’re not everybody else, my man.” Foggy tries to lighten the mood, his attempt landing with an awkward chuckle.

Brett cocks an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Did you just say ‘my man’?”

Foggy looks mildly wounded but presses on. “All right, we get it. You can’t talk about an active crime scene. However… what if… hypothetically speaking… we may have recently acquired a new client that could help… shed some light on this investigation?”

Brett’s gaze sharpens, scrutinizing him. “How recent?”

“Farm fresh,” Foggy replies smoothly, a hint of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Brett’s lips twitch into something that might be amusement. “Was he here?”

Foggy shakes his head, giving him a diplomatic look. “Client privilege.”

Brett lets out a low chuckle, though there’s no humor in his eyes. “Well, uh, Mr. Nelson, if that was true… hypothetically speaking… I’d tell you that withholding your client from the NYPD would be obstructing governmental administration, and I’d probably just arrest your ass myself. In theory.”

You can’t help but arch a brow, smirking just a little as you reply, “Guess we really can’t help each other after all.”

Matt shifts closer to Brett, his voice dropping to a low murmur, almost lost in the ambient noise. “It’s over 100 degrees out here tonight, Sergeant. Why would an Irish mobster wear body armor to a private meeting inside his own club?”

Brett’s eyes widen just a fraction, momentarily thrown off balance. You can see him recalculating, a spark of realization glinting in his eyes. He shoots a warning look over his shoulder toward the bustling crime scene, then mutters to a nearby officer, “Hey, tell those guys to keep it down in there, or someone’s getting written up.”

He turns back to you, his stance shifting, the guarded walls dropping slightly. “I help you… you help me?”

Matt gives him a small, reassuring smile. “That’s all we want.”

Brett hesitates, glancing around before lowering his voice. “There’s a total clampdown on any of this getting out to the press. I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Brett… you can trust us,” Matt says, the sincerity in his tone carrying weight.

Foggy grins, attempting a charming smile. “We’re lawyers.”

Brett rolls his eyes but gestures for you all to follow him. “Come with me over here. Come on.”

He leads you past the police tape, around the perimeter of the crime scene, to a quieter corner near an NYPD vehicle. The flashing lights cast ominous shadows against the nearby walls, and as you step further into the restricted zone, the air feels heavier, thick with the secrets and violence that hang over Hell’s Kitchen.

The heat lingers in the air, thick and oppressive, pressing down on every breath you take. The faint sounds of sirens and agitated murmurs from nearby cops create a gritty symphony, underscoring the heavy tension surrounding the Burren Club. Brett's face is a hardened mask as he turns back to the three of you, lowering his voice just enough to keep this conversation from prying ears.

“DA's going batshit trying to figure it out,” he mutters, glancing around as though the very walls might betray him. “This isn’t the first hit that matches this MO. Call it massive gang-on-gang overkill. Downtown office thinks we got new players in Hell’s Kitchen, and whoever they are, we’re talking some kind of paramilitary-type organization with the training, knowledge, and hardware to take out half the city.”

You exchange a look with Matt and Foggy. The implications sink in, heavy and sharp. Whoever’s out there, they aren’t playing by the same rules as the usual scum in Hell’s Kitchen.

Matt, calm but intense, tilts his head in Brett’s direction. “What do they want?”

Brett exhales, the lines on his face deepening. “That’s what’s driving the DA nuts. We don’t know who they are. We just know who they’re not.”

Foggy gives a dry, humorless chuckle. “I’d say they’re definitely not fond of the Irish.”

Brett’s jaw tightens, his eyes steeling over as he nods. “You think?” His voice lowers, tone shifting to something darker, more personal. “Now, we got history, so I’ll tell you as a friend: stay out of this shit. If you got a witness, the smart move is to turn him over and walk away. Hell’s Kitchen is about to explode.”

With that, Brett gives one last look, something almost like a warning in his eyes, before he turns and walks back toward the swarm of uniforms, resuming his duties among the controlled chaos.

There’s a beat of silence as you, Matt, and Foggy stand there, absorbing Brett’s words.

Foggy breaks the silence with a faint grin. “Did you hear that? He called me friend.”

You roll your eyes playfully, giving him a nudge. “Try not to let it go to your head, Nelson.”

As the three of you start to walk away from the crime scene, the reality of what Brett said hangs in the air, dense and heavy. You lower your voice, casting a cautious glance around. “I told you guys this morning that I was gonna swing by the DA’s office. When I was there, it was… busy as hell. People working overtime on some case. Couldn’t get all the details, but one of the biker gangs—Dogs of Hell—they were hit too.”

Matt’s brow furrows, his expression contemplative as he processes the information. Foggy’s face reflects a mixture of confusion and worry, the wheels turning as he tries to piece it all together.

Before you can say more, a buzz from your pocket snaps you back to the present. You pull out your phone, glancing at the lock screen to see a text from Karen. It’s brief, but urgent.

You bite your lip, the weight of it all sinking in as a sudden tension tightens your chest. “I gotta go,” you mutter, slipping your phone back into your pocket and taking a few steps back. “Grotto just woke up.”

Foggy’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, worry flickering across his face as he realizes what that could mean. “Hey! You be careful, alright?” His voice is firm, an edge of protectiveness lacing his words as he watches you turn to go.

Beside him, Matt’s grip on his cane tightens. His fingers curl around it, knuckles turning white, as though holding himself back. He stands silent, but the way he angles his head, listening, tells you everything. You can practically feel his attention zeroing in on the situation, calculating, strategizing. You know him well enough to understand that he’ll be up all night, digging for answers in his own way, likely stalking rooftops and alleyways before dawn even thinks of breaking.

You meet Matt’s gaze behind his lenses for just a heartbeat, exchanging a look of silent understanding. A small, knowing smile touches your lips as you nod. “You too.”

And with that, you turn and disappear into the night, leaving Foggy and Matt behind in the wash of streetlight and shadow. As you walk away, you can feel their eyes on your back, both of them watching, each in their own way, knowing that you’re all stepping into something none of you fully understand yet—but can’t walk away from.

METRO-GENERAL HOSPITAL — EVENING

The fluorescent lights hum softly in the quiet hallway as you approach Grotto’s room. You knock lightly, almost hesitant, and after a moment, the door cracks open to reveal Karen’s face. She offers a quick, tense smile and steps aside, letting you slip into the dimly lit room. She shuts the door behind you, sealing the three of you in this small, sterile pocket of safety—for now.

You exhale slowly, steadying yourself as your eyes settle on Grotto. He’s lying in the hospital bed, looking more irritated than wounded, though the medical equipment surrounding him says otherwise. Wires and tubes attach him to various monitors, which beep softly, a reminder of his fragility despite the rough edge in his glare.

Karen steps closer, her voice barely above a whisper as she updates you. “Bottle sliced through his flesh. Multiple lacerations into the muscle, but no vessel damage.” She glances at Grotto with a mixture of relief and amazement. “Nothing that a few weeks of physical therapy can’t cure. It’s… exactly as you said.”

You pull the chart from the foot of the bed, scanning over the notes with a practiced eye. Grotto’s file confirms what Karen just told you. Bruised but alive, and somehow, still intact despite the hell he walked through. You smirk, setting the chart back as you mutter, “Well, I’ll be damned, ‘Steve.’ Got real fuckin’ lucky.”

Grotto glares at you, irritation flashing in his eyes. He shifts in bed, wincing slightly as he adjusts against the pillows, his voice a low, rough grumble. “It’s not safe for either of you to be here.”

You cross your arms, raising an eyebrow, meeting his defiant stare with a calm resolve. “We’ll manage.”

A flicker of something—fear, maybe regret—crosses his face, but he quickly masks it, casting his gaze out toward the window where the night stretches dark and endless beyond the glass. Karen looks between the two of you, worry etched into her features, but she stays silent.

The room’s tense silence is shattered by a shrill scream echoing from the hallway. You and Karen freeze, your heads snapping toward the door, the distant sound of chaos prickling down your spine.

“Oh, God,” Grotto mutters, his voice low and laced with terror. He clenches his fists, his face pale. “What was that?”

Karen glances at him, alarm widening her eyes. “What’s going on?”

Grotto’s gaze darts between you both, panic setting in. “No, no, no, no, no,” he hisses. “Someone's come to finish the job. Shit.”

Karen takes a step toward the door, but you hold up a hand, stopping her. “Shh! Don’t move,” you whisper sharply, placing a hand against her shoulder to keep her back.

But Grotto is already unhooking himself from his IV line, the heart monitor beeping wildly as he yanks the wires away. “No, to hell with that,” he mutters, adrenaline overtaking fear.

You edge closer to the door, cracking it open just enough to get a glimpse of the hallway. Your heart races as you spot a figure moving through the chaos—a man, bulky, gripping a shotgun. His face is shadowed, but his intentions are clear as terrified hospital staff scatter, screaming, desperate to escape his path.

You whirl back around, your voice urgent. “We gotta go. Now.”

Karen grabs Grotto by the arm, and together, you three bolt out of the room, slipping into the flow of fleeing doctors and patients. Karen leads the way, practically dragging Grotto, who’s stumbling along, while you bring up the rear. The shotgun’s blast rings out again, deafening, tearing through the air as people scatter in panic, and Karen lets out a startled yelp, shoving her way toward the stairwell with the assailant close behind.

The three of you burst through the stairwell door, taking the steps two at a time, adrenaline propelling you forward as the sounds of gunfire and shouting echo above. Reaching the ground floor, you push your way outside, lungs burning. Karen fumbles with her keys as you spot a parked car nearby.

“What? You… You don’t have the right keys?” Grotto yells, a note of hysteria creeping into his voice.

“Shut up! Shut up!” Karen snaps, frustration flashing across her face. Grotto’s eyes widen in disbelief.

“Is this even your car?”

Karen shoots him a withering look, unlocking the door with a quick flick. “Belonged to a friend.”

“Where’s he?” Grotto demands.

Karen doesn’t miss a beat. “He’s dead.” She yanks the door open, gesturing to the passenger seat. “Get in!”

But you’re already moving, shoving Grotto into the passenger seat and slamming the door shut. Without a second thought, you bolt to the driver’s side, your voice low and firm as you lean in through the open window. “I’ll meet you at the precinct. Go!”

Karen calls out your name, worry flashing in her eyes, but you’re already sprinting toward the nearest alley. She curses under her breath, hitting the gas and disappearing into the night. The distant roar of her engine fades as you duck into the shadows, feeling the energy course through your veins. You close your eyes, letting the familiar glow shimmer over your skin as you pull your mask and suit into place.

With a deep breath, you focus, teleporting yourself up to the rooftop of the hospital. The world blurs for a moment, and then you’re there, the wind whipping against your face as you land. Your hunch was right—the assailant is crouched on the roof, sniper rifle aimed at the street below, ready to take the shot.

“Hey!” you call out, your voice slicing through the night air like a blade.

The man’s head snaps toward you, eyes narrowing as he quickly raises his weapon, aiming straight at you. But before he can pull the trigger, a dark figure swoops in from the shadows. Daredevil, silent and precise, lands a brutal kick to the shooter’s head, knocking him back. The assailant stumbles, but he’s far from finished.

You dart forward, instincts flaring, but keeping your power in check. Every move feels calculated, the electricity pulsing at your fingertips, begging to be unleashed. The shooter swings at Daredevil, and Matt ducks, his movements fluid, barely missing a beat. You try to find an opening, heart pounding, adrenaline coursing through your veins.

The assailant shifts, pulling a pistol from his side, aiming point-blank at Daredevil. There’s a flash, the sound of the gunshot cutting through the night. "Bang."

Time slows as you watch in horror. Matt’s head snaps back, his body teetering dangerously at the edge of the rooftop. You scream out but he’s already falling, the darkened streets below yawning open to swallow him whole.

Without thinking, you dive after him, launching yourself over the edge, arms outstretched as you chase the falling figure through the night air. The wind whips past, cold and unforgiving, as you reach out, fingers brushing against his chestplate just as the ground rushes up to meet you both.

TAGLIST: @scoliobean @thychuvaluswife @pantrashtic @ofmusesandsecrets @c-losur3 @coco-karfunkel @lunaticgurly @loves0phelia @theclassicvinyldragon @iusedtofloat @megara0224

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guardian-of-fandoms · 1 year ago

Text

"This is him?"

"Yup..."

Everyone crowded around the bed, staring at the stranger in a mix of confusion, astonishment, and dread.

Doc stared at the cybernetic in fascination, then studied the charts.

"Incredible... While damaged, this technology is astonishing! Powered by the body's natural bio-electricity, INGENIOUS!!!"

Dani nodded, glancing back at the charts.

"Doctor Mcswain said his body produces an unnatural amount of it, though. From what he did to the traffic light, we know he can absorb power, would that explain it?"

"Excellent deduction!"

Doc nodded, carefully scanning the metal and wires.

"If my guesses here are correct, our visitor has some truly unique abilities! It appears that the Cybernetic's ability to absorb power converts it to bio-electricity, which our visitor requires high amounts of. Not only does he require high amounts of power to power the cybernetic, but it appears that his body has simply.... altered itself to accept this electricity as a natural function. This process would've taken years.... astounding..."

"And i noticed something else.... Shields, shooting electricity, Isn't that familiar? It's just like Cody- Our Cody's- Repulsor Badge... before it blew up, anyway..."

Doc nodded again, musing at Dani's observation.

"Interesting... By the laws of the Multiverse, anything is possible! Perhaps in this other reality, the technology was perfected, and never encountered the shortcomings it did here."

Kade scoffed, leaning against the door.

"Yeah, yeah, he's a cool science experiment. Look, Can we find out who he is or not?"

"Ah, right!"

Doc held out his tablet, and a small scanner.

"I'll simply preform a Biometric scan! If he really is a version of Cody, then in theory, he should match identically on a genetic scale."

Kade rolled his eyes, watching as Dani examined the stranger's gear.

"Let's just get this over with... Once Doc does his science thing, we'll prove once and for all that this guy isn't Cody!"

Dani examined the back panel of his armor plate, frowning as she stared at the engraving.

Like she'd spotted earlier, it was the insignia for the rescue bots, but something was off.

Going diagonally across the mark was a large crack, but not a real crack. It was clearly part of the design, but she couldn't understand why....

".... Whoever this guy is... it seems like he went through a lot..."

Charlie stared at the scars, at the damaged cybernetic, the signs of struggle and pain.

"... What happened to you..."

A small chime came from Doc's scanner, and he stared at the tablet.

".... I'll be..."

Wordlessly, he handed it to Charlie, who let out a long, slow hiss.

".... My god..."

It was a match.

Dani and Graham instantly leaned in for a peek, a similar shock washing over them.

"So... That's it, then? He really is a version of Cody?"

"It... It's a genetic match.... If the Biometric is accepting him, then... that means-"

"Absolutely nothing."

Kade threw his hands out, groaning as he pinched his brow.

"No offense, Doc, but your Tech's bugged out how many times now?! No, no, it's...... it's a fluke or something!! I've said it before, THIS. ISN'T. CODY."

"WHAT IS YOUR DEAL?!?!"

Dani groaned, pushing past Graham to jab a finger at Kade's chest.

"Even if he's not Cody, he's clearly in trouble and needs our help!!! Why are you being so hard on him?!"

"Needs our help?! Are you all forgetting that he attacked us?! No matter why he's here, we can't just trust him!"

"We should at least hear him out."

Charlie tried to calm things down, coming between both his kids.

"Listen. Doc, why don't you scan him a few more times, just to be sure? In the mean time, we can at least make sure he recovers from his injuries. Once he wakes up, we'll let him tell his side of the story, and decide where to go from there."

Dani and Kade couldn't meet the other's eyes, but seemed satisfied for now.

Doc leaned over with the scanner, musing to himself as he eyed the cybernetic.

"Incredible... such advanced designs... as well as ironing out the flaws in the repulsor badge...."

He leaned in for a closer look, and gently ran a hand over the shoulder, trying to take in the connective wires and delicate parts.

"Perhaps once he wakes up, I can asess the damage, and attempt base repairs..."

Doc gently grasped the damaged plating, as Kade shook his head.

"Sure, give the random guy his electricity powers back...."

Dani shot him a dirty look, and Charlie could only sigh.

"Look. We don't know what's going on here, but we're going to find out. we just need to-"

"AH!"

Doc suddenly yelped, and everyone glanced over, the stranger's left arm tightly gripping Doc's wrist.

Everyone tensed, as the stranger quickly sat upright, his eyes wide as he gasped for breath, whipping his head around the room.

"WHERE AM I?!"

Charlie ran up to the Bed, throwing his arm in front of Doc.

"Hey, hey, you're okay, you're okay. We're not going to hurt you, we took you to the hospital. You're safe here."

He gasped, but his breath slowly evened out, and he let go of Doc, the man wincing as he rubbed his wrist.

"Quite the grip..."

"Sorry... You scared me, Doc."

"You... know me?"

The stranger stretched out, examining the damage to his arm.

"Well, yeah, You look just like the Doc Greene from my world. You even have the same tie."

"Fascinating!"

Charlie couldn't help but chuckle over how quickly Doc bounced back from the scare, but leaned closer to the bed.

"Look... We need to ask you a few questions..."

The stranger sighed, rubbing his neck.

"I figured... But first, what happened to Morocco?"

"He escaped, but-"

"YOU DIDN'T TRACK HIM?!"

He shot up, sliding his legs over the side of the bed.

He could be anywhere by now!! Do you have any idea what he's capable of?!"

He attempted to stand, but instantly felt weak, his knees nearly buckling as Charlie rushed to steady him.

"We'll find him, I promise. But you're in bad shape, you need our help."

Charlie wasn't prepared for the darkness in his eyes.

"None of you are supposed to be involved in this. I came here for ONE JOB, and i FAILED. I have to find that... Monster... before it's too late..."

"Well, we're involved now, deal with it."

Kade glared, slowly coming closer to the bed, his face set in a deep scowl.

"Don't think for one minute that i trust you. I know sketchy when I see it, and I'm not letting you out of my sight. I want answers, so start talking."

The stranger was quiet, then slowly let out a dark, sarcastic chuckle, pulling away from charlie as he leaned on the bed's railing.

"Ever stubborn, Kade... You're just like mine used to be..."

"Used to be?"

Kade felt uneasy at that, as the stranger sighed, before looking around at everyone in the room.

"My name is Cody Burns. I came here from another Dimension, a reality parallel to this one. If i'm right, i'm guessing I ran into my dimensional counterpart already."

Kade's glare didn't drop, his eyes sharp.

"You told him and Frankie your name was Cole."

"It's best if they don't get involved. I feel bad for lying to them, but it's for their own safety."

"That why you kicked our butts earlier? For our own safety?"

"I was trying to keep you all out of this, I was just trying to keep you out of the way."

"If you know so much about us, then why don't you know that it's our job to get involved with this crap?"

The visitor met his eyes, a pointed, cold, sense of emptiness in them.

"Don't do that... Don't pretend you know me...."

Cautiously, Charlie gripped his shoulder, feeling a pang in his heart.

"... How old are you?"

The visitor looked surprised, hesitating, but sighed.

"... Nineteen..."

"Nineteen..."

Charlie studied him carefully.

Was this was Cody- his cody- would look like?

He was slim, but near Kade's height.

But despite the scarring, the damaged cybernetic, what haunted him most, was the emptiness in his eyes.

His Son's eyes, so full of life, so vibrant, so kind, were now dull, pained, haunted by a darkness Charlie couldn't understand.

... What happened to him? What happened in his world to cause such pain?

"... Son-"

His face changed instantly, and he quickly pulled out of Charlie's grasp, his jaw clenching as he hissed out a slow breath, his eyes meeting the floor.

"Don't... I'm....I'm not yours, I'm not your son."

Charlie pulled away, another pang shooting through his heart as his eyes widened.

"I... I'm sorry..."

The air in the room grew tense, a heavy weight hanging overhead.

All except Kade, who only narrowed his eyes.

"... Look, Uh... Kade has a point."

Graham nervously trailed his eyes to the floor, feeling everyone turn to look at him.

"I'm sorry, but, you can't take on your Morocco alone. You're hurt, and most of your equipment needs repaired, if not completely rebuilt. As the Rescue Team, it's our job to take care of emergencies, and i'm pretty sure this counts."

Dani nodded, adding,

"Yeah, Alternate Dimension or no, you're still a Cody, right? That means you're family, and family takes care of each other. You're going to need us."

"... You have no idea how dangerous the Morocco of my world is!"

Dani practically snorted.

"He's Doctor Morocco, we have a guess. And, maybe you should tell us, then!"

"Is he... Human?"

Graham reflected on what he's been in the woods, the monster of twisted metal.

The visitor only sighed.

"... I don't even know anymore. Doctor Morocco.... He had this obsession with... Immortality."

Dani only groaned.

"Is there a version of him that doesn't?"

"He was obsessed with living forever, keeping his mind perfect for eternity. Once he discovered Cybertronians... He got... Ideas."

He leaned away from the bed, now able to support himself, but unsteadily.

"After he learned about them, he was convinced his human body was holding him back. So... he decided to upgrade. He fused his immortality technology into a robotic body, and implanted his brain inside."

Jaws dropped, and even Kade looked surprised.

"... Woah..."

"All he is now is a ghost of what was. But it doesn't matter what form he takes. He's dangerous. And he needs to PAY for what he's done..."

The pain in his eyes sent a flurry of dark possibilities through the minds of the team.

He slowly rubbed his right shoulder, His eyes closing as he grasped the metal.

".... I promised i'd hunt him down to the ends of the earth. Instead, i followed him across the fabric of reality. I won't stop now. I won't stop until I tear him to pieces with my bare hands."

Silence rang out across the room, heavy and swallowing.

Everyone exchanged glances with one another, shock and horror filling them.

Despite himself, a dark, ominous feeling sank deep into Kade's gut.

The visitor took an unsteady step forward, his face dark.

"Got any smart comments about that, hothead?"

Kade was quiet for a moment, then shook his head.

"Just wondering what happened to you."

The visitor stared at him, then slowly, barked out a slow, bitter laugh.

"Sometimes, I wonder that too..."

Charlie awkwardly cleared his throat, trying to redirect attention.

"Anyways... What do you say? Will you accept our help?"

Charlie gazed at him softly, trying to sound convincing.

"I Promise. We'll do anything we can to help you catch him."

The visitor stared at him, then sighed.

"... Do i have a choice?"

He moved to the side, spotting his equipment.

"Seeing as I don't have a choice, fine. But let me make one thing clear. Morocco. Is. Mine."

Charlie nodded sollemley, and the visitor sighed.

".... So, what now?"

"First, we need to talk to Doctor Mcswain about discharging you."

"Wait!"

Dani suddenly remembered something, explaining,

"Doctor McSwain has him on file as a John Doe, she's going to need a name."

The visitor sighed, pulling his jacket on over his bandages, surpised that somebody had apparently washed the blood out.

"Look, to avoid any confusion with my counterpart, why don't you all just call me... Cole?"

Charlie nodded, handing over his chest plate.

"If that's comfortable for you, we can call you Cole."

"Thank you..."

He buckled his chest plate in place, but struggled, his cybernetic sparking as it made erratic movements.

"Here..."

Charlie held him get it in place, frowning at the massive dent in the front.

"Hmm... After we get your discharge in order, Doc, can you fix him up at the lab?"

"Certainly!"

"No, No, I don't have time!"

Cole sighed as he pulled away from Charlie, clutching his Cybernetic as he took a step back.

"I need to find Morocco as soon as possible!"

"And we'll find him. Alright... How bout this? Doc, Graham, you and Boulder take Co- Cole... to the lab, and get him fixed up, and find a way to take out this Alternate Morocco. Dani, Kade, we'll do patrols of the island, and see if we can find any trace of him."

Cole reluctantly nodded.

"Alright... I'll go along with this, for now. But the second you find anything, i'm handling it from there."

Kade scoffed.

"Oh, I bet you will, "Cole"."

"And here we go, classic Kade!"

"Oh, I bet you know all about me, huh?"

Cole took a heavy step forward, jabbing a finger at kade.

"Yeah, I do! I know you're an arrogant hothead, and you HATE accepting that MAYBE, SOMEBODY KNOWS MORE THAN YOU!"

"You know what I know right now?"

Despite the near match in height, Kade was just barely taller, and kept his tone even as he stared into "Cole's" eyes.

"I know a thing or two about putting on a phony Tough Guy act. And I know that if you storm out there like this, you're gonna get yourself killed."

"You don't get to lecture me.... You have NO RIGHT to lecture me."

"And why not?"

"Because I've survived this long without you!"

He cut himself off, his eyes going wide, a thin gasp escaping him.

Kade's eyes went wide, before he sighed.

".... We done here?"

The visitor clutched his arm, pain etched across his face as he turned his back.

".... We're done..."

The implications of his statement rang cold, and charlie rubbed his neck.

"... Kade... Take a walk."

Kade shrugged, then motioned to Dani and Graham.

"A word?"

They followed him out, and as the door closed behind them, dug a hand through his pocket.

"... So... I think that's telling."

"You were too hard on him."

Dani gave Kade a pointed glare, and he only sighed.

"We needed answers, didn't we?"

"I wouldn't exactly call those answers a victory."

Kade stopped, and held out his find from the forest.

"... He dropped this, earlier."

"Is that... a comn?"

Kade clicked it open, revealing the photo inside.

"He hollowed it out, like a locket or something."

"Woah..."

Dani gingerly took it from Kade's hands, recognizing the photo instantly.

"Isn't that-"

"Yeah."

Graham leaned over Dani's shoulder, frowning as he studied the device.

"I don't get it... why a Comn?"

"Think about it."

Kade leaned against a wall, his eyes trained on the comn.

"We use the comns to comunicate, to talk to each other. If this one wasn't getting it's intended use-"

Dani traced the photo, a dark realization clicking inside her.

".... Then there's nobody to talk to..."

Kade nodded solemly, and Graham clicked the comn closed.

"... I guess that's it, then."

"Wasn't that hard to figure out."

Kade took the comn back, his eyes softening as he glanced back at the door.

"I'm not saying i'm totally on board here, but... IF that really is Cody... Then there's no way any version of us would just send him on a crazy mission like this alone. At least...."

Dani finished the thought, slumping against the wall.

"... Not willingly..."

#transformers rescue bots #cody burns #kade burns #dani burns #graham burns #charlie burns #frankie greene #doc greene #rescue bots au #au #Multiverse Cody AU

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generalfoolish · 4 years ago

Text

Mayhem Times Infinity

Part Two: Multiverse Mayhem

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x fem!reader (enemies reluctant co-workers to lovers)

Rating: 18+

Warnings: cw mentions of death, gore, trauma; the snap, violence, comic mischief, language

Word Count: 4k

Summary: The duo finds out what odds they're up against, but Loki has other plans.

A/N: Hey babes! I couldn't help but put in the work ASAP on this one. Gotta chase that hyper-fixation high. I'm ready to move into the "will they" part of this story! Sorry, for that slow burn, guys. Also, this doesn't necessarily join up at all with the series, but I threw a little nod in there, a little Professor Loki at the end. Enjoy 💕

Masterlist | Part One | Part Three

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged :)

“So, to summarize,” Loki drawled. “This is Earth-616, and it’s in danger.” Doctor Strange groaned, but nodded. Four hours. You had been listening to Doctor Strange for four hours. He had detailed the Multiverses, interdimensional travel, sling rings, all-powerful creatures more heinous than Thanos, and the ultimate demise of Earth-616--your Earth, your universe--and all Loki could do was joke.

You were reeling. Sure, you had considered the idea of other dimensions. You gulped as you tried to wrap your head around the gravity of the situation. There was a Multiverse jumper, Strange had given you all the information he could about the existence of multiverses and the area the villain was from, but couldn’t be more specific.

“Sure, in short. Now, listen, we don’t know who exactly is doing this. It would seem they’re working for Kang or Gah Lak Tus, but we aren’t certain of anything. We’re sending you for reconnaissance. Find out anything you can.”

“Yes, but why us? Why not the Guardians with Thor?” You asked. The tea in your hands too cold to enjoy, but you took a small sip anyway. You pulled a small face, and lowered the small cup again.

“They’re busy.” Strange told you without preamble.

“Well, so are we. He was just resurrected, and I’m technically homeless right now.” You argued, lifting the cup again, and taking another sip. The now pleasantly warm liquid tasted much better than it had even when you poured it. You raised an eyebrow at Loki, wondering if it was his magic, but he was looking at Strange, a small smirk on his lips.

“Then it should be less of a discussion. You’ll need to travel light, and neither of you are otherwise entangled. Now, do you recall our conversation of sling rings?” You nodded, and yelped when a thick bar ring appeared on your hand.

“I just focus?”

“Yes, visualize, focus and see the destination. Look beyond what you see. You know how to do that. This is the only way you’ll be able to travel through the multiverse, and I only have the one. You’ll have to travel together.”

“Okay. What about the Negative Zone?” You asked, your hand weighed down by the new accessory. The physical weight was negligible, but the mental weight left you straining.

“Start there. Remember Earth-616 is yours. Though it is unlikely anyone will refer to them as their numerical filing. What’s your job?” Strange asked, and you huffed, annoyed.

“Gather intel. We can handle it.” You snapped, and he lifted his hand.

Suddenly, a golden ring appeared before you, and on the other side an empty field.

“Go on, then.” Strange challenged, and you shot him a look, but walked through the portal.

You felt the portal close behind you, the energy rippling shut.

“That was strange.” Loki murmured, smoothing his leather jacket down. Without thinking, without pause, you replied.

“Doctor Strange.”

“That is not a good joke, darling.” Your eyebrows shot up.

“First, it definitely is. Second, ‘darling,’?” You asked.

“I told you, I refuse to call you ‘Stone,’ and you haven’t supplied anything else.” Loki argued, and began walking through the field. The grass, untouched, reached far up his long legs engulfing his waist, and you tried to pull your attention away from how he looked surrounded by the golden strands.

Celestial. God-like, you thought as you failed.

“Well, perhaps we should focus on the mission instead.” You cleared your throat as you walked to him. You tried to ignore how you had to incline your head to see him, failing again as you took in the height difference.

“Yes. I was thinking, we should perhaps change our clothes to fit in.” Loki mused, and you nodded.

“Good idea. Where are we?” You asked. It looked...vaguely Earth-like.

“How should I know? Aren’t you the one blessed with infinite knowledge?” He grumbled. You rubbed your palm down your face, and tried to perceive your location.

“I got nothing, Mayhem.” You mused, and began walking again.

“Casual linens, then?” Loki inquired, a ghost of a smile on his lips. You shrugged, and before you had relaxed your shoulders back down, you were draped in a dark green gown. You rolled your eyes at Loki’s shit-eating grin.

“Subtle.” You told him, gesturing down. He held his hands out in a shrug, and you laughed. He had matched his own ‘casual’ clothes in the same deep shade of green. You expected another jab, but instead he started walking away from you, and didn't break pace to see if you were coming. You jogged to catch him.

"Where are you going?" You asked, slightly out of breath. You were only just realizing how much taller he was than you. His long legs had carried him swiftly away from you in no time.

"Anywhere I please." He told you, barely looking down, but you could see his lips lifted in a smirk all the same.

"What do you mean?" You asked, looking around, wondering what destination he meant.

"Norns, woman, are you daft? I'm leaving. I'm free, finally. A better question for you would be: where are you going? Hmm? All that time on Midgard, now you're in space, darling. Where are you going to go?" He had broken stride to sneer down at you. You tried to hide your obvious shock at the sudden turn of emotion.

"To find the threat against our Galaxy. Why wouldn't you want to do the same?" You asked, malice lacing your tone. Here he was, wearing his true colors finally. The treacherous Loki, the one you'd been told about, the one you should've heeded the warnings about.

His nose crinkled in disgust, and you felt the vision coming before it hit. You'd seen this one a few times already, but nothing prepared you for it. You gasped for air as you felt Loki's throat being constricted, and winced when you felt the crunch of his neck.

His smug look told you he'd made that happen.

"I have a few reasons." He told you, his voice quiet and dangerous.

"We were chosen for a reason, Loki." You tried, grasping for any shred of logic that might convince him to stay. Treacherous or not, he had much more experience in space than you.

"Yes, we were. Isn't it obvious to you, yet? We were sent here to die." He held his arms out and gestured around at the field.

"What do you mean? It's just recon." You replied, noting his wingspan, the subtle way his lithe muscles pulled taut the fabric of his shirt.

"Oh yes, truly the omnipotent Dr. Strange would send a known liar and the newest avenger to stop a doom to the universe." He rolled his eyes and began walking away from you. You watched his hands trail lightly over the blades of grass, and knew he was right. You hated him for it, but he was. You had been pushing those feelings down since you had first found yourself in space looking at Loki. If this truly had the gravity Dr. Strange said it had, why wasn't he here? Or anyone of the other space faring avengers, or the guardians? Why were you sent here with Loki of all people?

You followed behind him, the grass reaching much higher on you, and contemplated your choices. You had the sling rings, so the options were endless. Yet, you kept coming back to the same one: do the job. Every fiber of your being told you Loki was right, but a small voice in the back of your mind told you he could be wrong. And it was enough.

You glanced up at your companion, his black hair curling at the edges of his collar, his back straight and proud, his shoulders broad and capable. He could handle himself in a fight, this much you knew. He'd be an asset. How would you convince him to stay? Trick him? Trick the God of Mischief? Surely you weren't dumb enough to try.

You threw your head back and looked at the sky. You knew you were. You knew you had to. You needed his help, but more than that, you actually wanted it. He was charming, after all.

"So, where exactly are you going, then?" You asked, breaking the steady silence. You watched his stride falter for a second as he turned to look at you.

"To the town." He told you, confidently.

"So, you do know where we are?"

"No."

"Then how would you know?" You challenged him.

"There'll be a town, eventually." He told you, clearly agitated at your questions.

"Sorry, just working out a few things." You told him, keeping your gaze averted. His eyes narrowed in suspicion.

You kept your face passive as the wave of wariness washed over you. You had thrown your plan together in about three seconds, but already it was going perfectly.

Step one: make Loki suspicious. It was easy to do. He had no real reason to trust you. Plus, he had to be expecting it anyway.

It led to the rest of your plan. He’d “uncover” your deceit, and you’d go along acting caught in a lie. Then, you’d gain his trust for real. Finally, you trick him into actually helping you do some reconnaissance for Strange.

Easy peasy.

Now, just to find this town.

I’ll be damned.” You muttered when you first saw it. A light cascading in the sky, not the stars that littered it currently, but a new one. A man made, or alien made, one.

“Aha!” Loki called, looking at you expectantly.

“You did it!” You laughed, peering through the trees that stood between you and the source. Failing that, you reached out with your mind. No one was lingering about, so you focused on Loki. It was a mixture of joy and trepidation. It was all bitter endings.

He was planning a betrayal of his own, of course. What you couldn’t piece together is why he was feeling hesitant to do it. Clearly, he had worked out a way to get off-world.

“Perhaps we should make camp here.” He suggested, turning his steady gaze to you. You looked around, considering it. More open than the forest, but that could be helpful in a fight. Unlikely anyone would be able to sneak up on either of you. Especially if you took turns sleeping. But, didn’t you just feel his looming betrayal? Should you risk it so soon? You needed sleep. Would he leave you alone, asleep, in a field on an alien planet? Surely not. But could you trust it? Did you trust him?

“Okay, Mayhem. I’ll grab some firewood.” You told him, starting to head to the edge of the woods. He chuckled, and you heard the whoosh of a flame. You turned and your mouth fell open. He had conjured an entire campsite. The fire was contained within a stone structure, there was a clearing to sit, he’d even managed a few blankets.

"Surely this will suffice." He teased, a grin ghosting on his lips. You nodded, lamely, and grabbed a blanket.

"Can you be troubled with dinner?" You joked, and he raised an eyebrow at you.

"What do you want?" He asked, settling down onto the ground, long legs stretched before him.

"Oh I don't know, what's your favorite thing?" You mused, snuggling under the thick material. It was softer than cotton or wool, warm but not hot, heavy enough to provide weight without being unbearable. You closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling against your skin, and nearly dozed. He startled you when he began speaking.

"The perfect night-meal is a sampling of delicacies. But the most exquisite taste is fresh champagne from the springs on Alfheim. Poured lazily by the Pleasure Elves, of course." You laughed.

"Pleasure Elves and champagne springs, what the hell are we still doing here?" He chuckled and adjusted the blanket around his shoulders, before looking at you seriously.

"I will show you Alfheim, if you wish." You resisted shuddering under his intense gaze. You could barely meet his eyes, a deep, dark green that rivaled the evening forest.

"I'd like that, someday. For now, dinner. Can you do...pizza?" You asked, smiling broadly. He frowned, clearly disgusted.

"I could, but I would not. Is that truly what you crave? Greasy, unimaginative mortal food?" You shrugged. "Very well." With a flick of his wrist, he brought forth two wrapped sandwiches. Curious, you pulled the wrapper off and smiled happily.

"A cheeseburger! How is that better than pizza?" You asked, laughing and taking a bite. You watched him peel the wrapper with grace, only touching the burger with his fingertips.

"I'm not sure. Thor described them much better than they appear." He seemed vaguely disgusted.

"We could have had alien food." You told him, laughing at his discomfort. He rolled his eyes at you.

"Technically, darling, you're the alien here." His matter-of-fact tone wrecked your mood. The way he said "darling" was more like an insult. How could he conjure burgers and then ruin the moment so seamlessly.

You didn't respond, just silently tucked into your sandwich. You still needed to work out how you were going to break his trust anyway. It couldn't be too clever, you thought. Just clever enough that it seemed like it would work, but not clever enough that he would suspect another attempt.

You were so lost in thought that you didn't see the way he studied you, mapping your face, reveling in how the starlight splayed shadows on you. He had put you in green as a joke, but lounging fireside under the thick blanket, you looked at home in the deep shade of mid-summer forest green.

You finished the burger and tossed the wrapper remains into the fire. You turned to find Loki already looking at you, he lifted a corner of his mouth but remained silent.

"I'll take first watch." You told him, hiding a yawn behind your hand. He waved you off with a flick of his wrist.

"Sleep. I'll watch over you." He watched you as he spoke, and you felt his dark eyes on you as you snuggled your way into the blanket nest. The fatigue from the battle with Thanos, and the rush of adrenaline from finding Loki and talking with Dr. Strange, and the long walk through the field came crashing into you all at once. Your eyes closed of their own Accord, and your limbs followed soon after tingling with sleep.

"G'night, Mayhem." You mumbled, your mouth and brain mostly asleep. You were drifting off, even as you said it, but you heard his response.

"Good night, darling." You smiled as you fell further asleep, his tone softer than it had been.

As sleep began to take you under, quieter than before, you heard Loki mumble to himself.

"Damn. She's adorable." When you awoke, you wouldn't remember, as it were, you barely heard it at all. Proof, you thought dreamily. It was proof, that Loki wasn't all bad.

You blinked hard against the morning light and groaned as you rolled over. You remembered where you were quickly, the hard ground your first clue. The event of the previous day hit you at once, and you sat up quickly, scanning for Loki. You started to panic, he had slipped off during the night, and now you were alone on an unfamiliar world.

“Shit.” You cursed, rising to your feet.

“What?” You whirled on the voice and sighed deeply when you saw the God of Mischief staring back at you.

“I...thought you left.” You admitted, stretching your back out. His smile faltered a bit.

“I did not. I found breakfast.” He told you, tossing you something that looked like an apple. You smiled sheepishly.

“You didn’t wake me.” You said, and he merely shrugged. “You haven’t slept.” You continued, unsatisfied with his nonchalance.

“I was dead yesterday, darling. I think I can manage without one night’s rest.” You winced at his nickname for you. It dripped with venom and mistrust.

“Don’t act offended, Mayhem. Betrayal is literally your middle name.”

“What do you know of betrayal? Hmm?”

“Plenty. You may have cornered the market, but you didn’t trademark it.”

“I would not simply slink away in the dead of night. I am Loki, prince of Asgard, the rightful king of Jotunheim, and the God of Mischief, and I do not lurk in the shadows. My betrayal would be right in front of you, rest assured.” You scoffed, as you watched him pontificate.

“What do your titles get you here?” You asked and smiled in triumph when his face fell. You turned the fruit over in your hand, and looked back at him. “I’m sorry I thought you left, thanks for the fruit.” You mumbled, guilt already eating away at you. Why did his crestfallen face split you in two so quickly? You bit into the apple, and winced right away. It definitely wasn’t an apple. The texture was similar to a kiwi, but the flavor was unlike anything you’d ever had.

“It’s a local fruit, not one I’m familiar with.” He explained, his voice tight. “It isn’t dangerous.” You furrowed your brow to object, but he held his hands up. “I had one already to test it.”

“Thank you, Mayhem.” You told him, genuinely thankful. He waved the campsite away, and the two of you began your trek through the dense forest. The dark green clothes helped camouflage you as you picked your way through the vegetation, and while you knew he had done it to get a rise out of you, you were thankful to be out of the clingy spandex uniform you normally wore.

You had been training with Nat when the first power surge flowed through your fingertips, and the blast produced was golden. Nat must have alerted Tony, because within the hour you had a brand new, golden suit. You looked like an asshole, flying around in a shimmery gold suit, but no one would change it. Friday had told you to “Fuck off,” and that was the end of it. You’d become the Golden Avenger in the news, but everyone called you stone. It was a horrible joke, born out of horrible circumstances. You looked like a walking gauntlet, and you were treated that way too.

You focused harder on the ground, stepping around massive root systems, and avoiding areas where the ground had sunk into itself. Loki was right. You hated that you were thinking about it now. No one had truly accepted you as an avenger, except Nat. It was hard for them, you understood. The thing that gave you power was the same event that had destroyed them. But, it isn’t like you wanted it. You hadn’t asked Thanos to do this, you didn’t have control over the events that led to your origin. Yet, the first chance they got, they sent you away. You were the outlier, you were the uncertainty, and you were safer kept at arm's distance. Why else send you on an obvious goose chase with a wanted intergalactic villain?

You glanced at your traveling companion, and found him deep in thought as well. His brow was creased, and his mouth was set. He looked handsome, bathed in the filtered sunlight and the flecks of gold illuminated his dark features. He flicked his eyes at you, and relaxed his mouth into a small smile.

“Shouldn’t be long now.” He told you quietly, and you found yourself wondering what he was thinking about. His double-cross to you? You needed to hammer your own plan together, but it could wait, you thought. You didn’t want to think too hard about it.

“Good, it’ll be nice to get a real seat,” You laughed and he smirked at you. “Is Alfheim your favorite place?” You asked, thinking about the pleasure elves, you could see the appeal. He cocked his head to the side, a ghost of a real smile playing on his lips.

“No, Asgard was my favorite place.” He murmured, and you wanted to disappear. Of course, his world was just destroyed, what a dumb question.

“Sorry Mayhem, I didn’t think…” Your apology died on your tongue, as he began chuckling.

“Don’t fret, darling. I’m not that fragile.” He teased. Your heart was firmly lodged in your throat, stuck from embarrassment, but remaining still as you realized he had softened your nickname. No longer did your skin crawl, instead, a warmth spread through your chest. His soft tone had rendered you speechless, dumbfounded, but you hoped he wouldn’t notice. What could you say? I was embarrassed at having brought up a potentially sensitive subject, and then you called me a flirty name and now my tongue is heavy. Why would it even matter? You were going to betray him, and then he would betray you. It was what your master plan was hinged on. Who cared if he was soft and pretty?

“Truly, it is not an issue.” He continued, confused, searching your face.

“Tell me about it?” You managed to squeak out, and you caught the look he gave you, the look of skepticism.

“It was a Golden City, built up in the mountains, and the rainbow bridge connected it to the bifrost. It was devastatingly beautiful. That was only the Palace, though. The forests around the city were as cruel as they were beautiful. It truly was a world fit for gods.” He looked wistful, and you pretended not to see the tears welling up. “Where is your favorite place?” He asked abruptly, and you smiled happily.

“You remember that place I took you yesterday, when I plucked you from the debris in space?” You asked, waiting for an answer. When he nodded, you continued. “It was my attempt at freedom. I had just broken up with a man who controlled me, and well, it was a little crappy, but it was mine, y’know? I had just gotten back in touch with my family who I had been cut off from, and it was so right. I was only there for a few months before Thanos’ attack.” You told him, fiddling with your sleeve, swallowing hard. “It was the first taste of happiness I had, and then it was taken from me just as suddenly as I had gotten it.” You wiped your eyes and cleared your throat.

“I know a great deal about that, darling.” He reassured you, and you were surprised to feel the pressure of his hand on your back. You gave him a tight small, and felt the smallest tendrils of affection reaching out to you. You widened your smile and turned to the forest before you.

“What’s your favorite power, then?” You asked, falling in step beside him. He laughed.

“Power?” He asked, and you rolled your eyes.

“Yes, your powers?” You wiggled your fingers, knowing he’d never done anything like that.

“It’s magic, darling.” He rolled his eyes at you, but you could tell it was playful.

“Whatever, your magic. What’s your favorite spell?” He chuckled at you.

“Duplication-casting, then.” You raised an eyebrow.

“What’s that? Conjuring?”

“They’re two completely different powers.” He explained with a long, suffering sigh.

“So, they are “powers” now?” You asked, laughing.

“Norns, you are so aggravating.” He huffed.

“Well, why duplication-casting? Why not the poison one?” You asked. He raised an eyebrow.

“What poison one?” He asked, looking confused.

“You can have poison without it hurting you.” You told him plainly.

“No, I cannot.” He was genuinely confused at this point, and you held your hands up.

“But you tested the fruit for me.” You told him, confused. He blinked slowly at you, and your face fell in realization. He had been protecting you. And immediately you treated him like a monster.

“Mayhem, I’m…” He fixed his lips into a small line. You were trying to form an apology, clearly you were the one deserving the monster treatment. You had actively plotted against him since you had landed, and he had done nothing but try to make you comfortable. He raised a finger to his lips, his face hard. You heard it then, the crunching of leaves and splintering of sticks underfoot. You were no longer alone with the God of Mischief.

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sserpente · 4 years ago

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Synopsis: After his lucky escape, the Tesseract takes Loki on new adventures--but unfortunately, his journeys through space do not go unnoticed and he soon ends up on TVA’s radar. The deal is a simple one: Become a recruit and help the Time Variance Authority fight time crimes to earn your freedom again eventually or die. Loki accepts the challenge. It would not be long until he could use their own weapons against them, after all. If only that, however, were his only concern. Least of all did he expect that with his reluctant arrival at TVA, a woman would step into his life and wreak havoc in his heart. He does not know what it is about her that he seeks her presence like a bee hunting for honey--but he is determined to find out.

A/N: Gaaaah, I haven’t nearly pre-written as many chapters as I would like to have pre-written before starting to post but I just can’t wait any longer! I finally want to share this story with you guys, I am so hyped about it! So, without further ado--enjoy the first chapter of “Pastel Blue”! I hope you like it! ♥

Chapter 1

Tick Tock. That clock on the wall was driving her crazy, it had been ever since she had been assigned to this dull office. She spent most of her time in the lab, working in midst of dangerous and highly sensitive equipment and delicate devices.

Tick Tock. She was going to smash it—with a big hammer, perhaps, or even better, a jackhammer. It was ugly too. Made of wood and obviously antique, late 18th century probably. What had Mobius been thinking?

Oh yeah, him. Mobius M. Mobius, her I-am-not-your-father-but-I-will-treat-you-like-my-daughter supervisor and babysitter, thank you very much. Granted, he was old enough to be her father, taking into consideration that in her mid-twenties, there wasn’t much need for a parental figure in her life anymore.

Tick Tock. She sighed. The pile of paperwork she had been handed this morning had seemingly not shrunk by even an inch. She could swear she had not been stalling today. Breakfast, work, lunch break, work… Tick Tock. She rolled her eyes. No. This was unreasonable. Grunting a few not so decent swear words, she gathered the spreadsheets and dozens of handwritten notes, sending the calming ruffling of paper through the air and exited the room without so much as thinking about what Mobius would think about her wandering places around the TVA during work hours again.

Besides, the kitchen and common room right around the corner of her desired destination was equipped with the best coffee machine modern technology had to offer. Hot chocolate with mint and a hint of vanilla? Oh yes, please!

At this time of the day, the lab in question was deserted. Pens, pliers and other small tools lay scattered all over the metal tables as if someone had just finished their work for the day. Some of the devices in here could cause major damage if activated accidentally or even at the wrong time. Now there was the thrill, the proximity to endless possibilities.

After turning a few laps around the tables to see if anything had changed or improved at all since the last time she was here (which would be yesterday), she eventually made herself comfortable at the huge desk fully equipped with a cup holder, sockets and a fancy table lamp. The chair was the best part, enabling her to swirl around whenever she felt like she needed a refreshing spin.

She had just pulled out her burrow from her hair, having twirled it around one of the lighter strands. Her guess was the sun had bestowed its warm kisses upon her chocolate brown hair in the summer. Leaning over her papers, she got back to work.

But it was only five minutes until she heard the heavy metal door with the see-through glass panel being pushed open, followed by someone clearing their throat.

“Jess, do you have a moment?” Mobius asked. Jess tilted her head, the slightest frown accompanied by a gentle smirk decorating her face. What, no chastising for changing work locations today? She swirled around on her chair, expecting to see the man in question in his grey suit and the signature scar across his nose stare her down with arms akimbo. Instead, he was holding on to the door tensely, right next to him, seemingly out of place in the threshold, a man with raven hair and the most stunning pair of blue eyes she had ever had the pleasure to lock her gaze with. Her eyes were blue as well—Loki’s, however, seemed to shimmer green in the artificial light of the lab. She didn’t get much daylight, all the way down here.

“M?” Jess smiled. She rose, ignoring the slight trembling of her knees as she approached the two, keeping a safe distance. Her heart skipped a beat with every single step, her chest resembling a magnet pulling her towards Loki like a powerless needle.

“I’ve told you, repeatedly, to stay in your own office.” Ah, there it was.

“I have asked you, repeatedly, to re-locate my office here.” She retorted with a smug expression, eyes darting over to Loki. Mobius shook his head. “An introduction is probably redundant. Jess, this is Loki.”

He was wearing the orange prison clothes TVA had manufactured a few years back. She had to admit, orange suited him rather well, bringing out his cheekbones and the dark hair framing his flawless face. His lips were thin, his jawline to die for. She would be lying if she denied his attractiveness. Loki was a god, after all. Most prominent to his appearance, however, were the shackles around his naked wrists and the metal collar hiding most of his long neck—a chunky but firm reminder his powers were all but a myth as long as the light was blinking bright red like a traffic light screaming stop at him like a sleep-deprived police officer.

Loki lifted his chin, allowing pride and confidence to flood his aura. Out of all the people he had encountered in this strange place so far, alterations of his very own self on an old-fashioned projector included, she was by far the oddest. Jess, so he learned, wore a colourful choker around her neck as well as two bracelets of the same kind. They reminded him of sugar pearls. If he had asked her about them, she could have revealed to him that they were indeed candy necklaces—and that she wore them because Mobius had stressed there were no edible snacks allowed at work. The elegant pieces of jewellery hanging down her earlobes, however, appeared to be non-edible. Two delicate silver charms, holding what Loki identified to be moonstones. They suited her, complementing the long brown hair and the outstanding colour of her eyes. Blue—just like his.

“The God of Mischief.” She completed, the fraction of a second after he had studied her conspicuous appearance. She added a court but polite nod. “I was kind of hoping to meet you one day.” And so she was. The rumours had spread across the entire facility like wildfire, reaching even the Minutemen based in different timelines. Loki, the Norse God of Mischief, had stolen an Infinity Stone and escaped his respective timeline—a timeline reaching all the way back to 2012—creating a new branch of reality entirely. Unsupervised, he could have caused serious damage to the very fabric of time and the multiverse. He had to be stopped, had to be captured, had to be persuaded.

Mobius had expressed his interest in getting the infamous Trickster to work for him frequently. Loki was skilled, intelligent, witty, a talented fighter and most of all, one of the most capable users of magic the multiverse had to offer. His stories of victory and defeat were known to most of the TVA and yet, they resonated with her to an extent her colleagues could never fathom. Above everything Loki had had to experience—above all Loki will have had to experience—there was a thick layer of loneliness clouding his aura like a blanket of ice-cold snow. It was a suitable comparison, given his heritage.

“I didn’t just hear that.” Mobius intervened. He sized her up like an unpredictable teenager. “The God of Mischief has retired. Loki here has just agreed on working for us.”

“With you,” Loki interrupted. “Not for you. Reluctantly.” That would leave her wondering what exactly it was Mobius had offered him in return.

Jess chuckled. “Now that is a matter of opinion, trust me. I would know.” Raising an eyebrow, she gave Mobius a challenging glare.

“I need you to cover a shift.” He responded matter-of-factly. Jess’ eyebrow rose even higher. “Reese just jumped back from 1792.”

“And?”

“He almost made his personal acquaintance with the guillotine. They’re patching him up in the hospital wing right now.”

Sucking in a deep breath, Jess took a step back, realising just what kind of favour, no, requirement Mobius would ask for. Reese had been in the TVA for more than three decades—he had not aged a day since his accession as a matter of fact—and his experience and excessive excitement over the Avengers had made him the perfect candidate to keep an eye on Loki while he was still not to be trusted—if he was ever going to be trusted, that was. He was the God of Mischief, after all.

“I’m on probation, remember? What makes you think I should cover for him of all people?” Loki rolled his eyes and for a moment, you almost felt sorry for excluding him from a conversation that was clearly about him.

“Call it an experiment. Prove to me that we can rely on you and I’ll end your probation.” Jess resisted the urge to shake his hand off her shoulder when he leaned forward to touch her in a fatherly manner.

“Sir, do you have a moment?” A Minuteman had appeared behind them. Jess had never quite figured out how they moved so quietly. Their shoe soles must have been made of feathers. In turn, the stilettos she usually wore to smuggle a few more inches to her height were loud and made satisfying noises ricocheting through the hallways when she walked, emitting confidence and even smugness. She needed that boost every once in a while.

Mobius nodded. As he released Jess’ shoulder and pushed past Loki—who did, much to her amusement, not move an inch for the senior manager—he pointed a finger at him. “Behave.”

The lab door fell shut behind him, drowning all noises from the outside like a soundproof recording room. Jess gaped at Loki for a second, her body once again threatening to overwhelm her with the magnetic pull she felt towards the Trickster, fascination setting her veins ablaze.

“You do not look human.” Loki suddenly said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. Jess pouted.

“Excuse me? I am hoping you meant that as a compliment, I am as human as I’ll ever be.” Loki frowned, then responded with a hum.

“I take it you hop timelines for him too then, fixing the damage others have done.”

“Me? No.” Jess shook her head. “I am not a Minuteman. I wish I was, trust me, but I have got nothing to do with that, unfortunately. I work in the linguistics department, spending all day translating protocols and time recordings from all sorts of languages. Now I know what you’re thinking. With its technology, shouldn’t TVA be able to translate everything using a smart computer program?” She shrugged. “Well, technically you’re right. But there’s a bunch of languages out there that simply don’t exist either here on Earth or any other known realm. We’re only human—and a computer program is only as smart as its creator. It can’t translate a language that does not consist of words, for example, that would go against the very human comprehension of its programmer.”

“Then how do you speak them?” Loki probed.

“That’s my superpower. I don’t know why I can understand them, I just… do. And what did it get me?” She raised her hands in a dramatic motion. “Paperwork. Lots of paperwork. The only way for me to get in on the real action is this place here. Take a look at this.” Loki watched her move towards what resembled a toaster, shaped like a metal suitcase that had been left open. Smiling, she reached for a shining red apple on the table and placed it on the black surface before activating the switch. She had seen the scientists do this dozens of times before. In fact, she was sure she could handle most of the devices in here in her sleep. As the small machine hummed to life, it sent a deafening vibration through the room and then, just like someone had hit fast-forward with a remote, the apple shrivelled and rotted.

“Pretty cool, huh? It works the other way around too once it recharged. They haven’t figured out how to make it work for living beings, including humans, just yet, though. This is just a prototype anyway, the real thing is supposed to help re-animate the dead for a short amount of time to solve time crimes and shit. I swear I’d get a major in science if I lived another life. My father was one. Before he died, that is.” Jess wasn’t quite sure what made her open up to the God of Mischief and tell her about her personal family drama. She usually babbled when nervousness got the better of her but this was a new level of openness entirely. They all knew her story, after all, but apart from Mobius, they all pretended they didn’t. “You see? TVA is not all bad, even if it may seem so at first. M can be an arsehole sometimes, I know. He calls our main timeline in which everything began,” Jess continued with a dramatic voice, “the Null-Time Zone. I never figured out why and he won’t tell me.”

“Because you don’t listen, Jess.” Mobius answered, holding the door open with the Minuteman who had asked for his advice impatiently but mutely waiting for his turn again behind him.

“So?” She probed, pointing at the God of Mischief with her chin, her arms crossed. “If I am to play babysitter for a while, where am I staying? Where is Loki staying?”

“Your place.” Jess blinked, incredulousness spreading on her face like a clean swipe of butter on warm toasted bread.

“My place?”

“Your residential unit is supervised and equipped with modern alarm systems, just in case you decide to make trouble again, remember? We’ll position security outside the door in addition to that, killing two birds with one stone. Besides, it’s only temporary. Reese should be up and on his feet again in no time. The blade only grazed him before he made the jump back.”

“That does not sound reassuring!” Jess stood up straight to prove her point and yet, even compared to Mobius, she was nowhere near tall enough to make an impact with her body language at this time.

“You can take the rest of the day off as compensation. Show Loki to your unit. Make yourselves acquainted. I’ll send security to collect him in five minutes—to the second!”

~*~

She seems familiar almost… like part of me has known her forever. It was a thought which jumped into Loki’s mind and implanted itself in his head like a parasite. A mere mortal, how could there possibly be a connection between them? But it wasn’t just magnetic fascination and intrigue. Loki felt a need to keep her in his presence much like she was about to be his cherished bride. Irritation crept up the back of his neck as he followed her through the branched corridors and back to the modern lift he had had to use upon his arrival.

He would only love to know just what it was that had gotten her on probation. Abuse of machinery for her own selfish purposes, perhaps? A prank which had gone too far and done damage to the organisation? Murder? No. Despite her toughness, he could not imagine the delicate mortal standing next to him in the elevator being capable of killing anyone.

When the elevator doors slid open again, the young woman gave him an almost sheepish smile. She hardly appeared worried by having to escort him all on her own, across empty hallways which were only too inviting to overpower her and escape. Something held him back. She did, so he realised with another wave of irritation electrifying his body.

“…the most dangerous missions they usually leave to Justice Peace and Death’s Head. Ever heard of them? They are like celebrities around here.” He heard her say just then. But Loki couldn’t possibly take less interest in this so-called Time Variance Authority. All he needed to know was that it was yet another, partially human-led secret organisation imagining with the naivety of a child that they held power over him. SHIELD had made this mistake in the past and they had paid the bitter price. TVA would be no different.

“The units here are labelled with our initials and the department number. This one.” Jess pointed at the first door coming into sight to their right and quite apparently, Mobius had not made any empty promises concerning Jess’ safety and surveillance. As they turned around the corner, they were greeted by a grimly looking security officer clutching one of those small devices Loki identified as a Taser, one which of the like Darcy Lewis had once used on his brother. He kept a straight face even as Jess unlocked the residential unit using her fingerprint and entered but gave him a provocative smirk before following her.

His own chambers back on Asgard—another life entirely, so it seemed now—were a reflection of who he was with their green accents, the countless books, the tidiness and the ancient parchment rolls on his dark mahogany desk from Vanaheim. If anything, analysing her personal living space to the very last grain of dust would satisfy his need to learn just why he felt so drawn her, perhaps.

The first item of furniture he took in was the long bookshelf towering all the way up to the ceiling, every inch filled with clearly read books about as thick as his wrist. He made a note to study the titles later. A coffee table full of empty peanut shells and a new package of peanuts still sealed neatly in their plastic bag, a caramel sofa on which he found more sealed peanut bags as well as a golden cushion with cheesy pom-poms. A drawer, a TV with large speakers and another electronic gadget resembling a fridge and two separate doorways which led to a bathing area, so he presumed, and her bedroom. Even with the overall lack of more furniture in the room, Jess had somehow managed to add her very own personal touch to the sterile residential unit.

“The bathroom is to the right, you’ll find refreshments and snacks in the fridge next to the TV. My bedroom is out of bounds. I hope you enjoyed the tour.” She chuckled, grabbing a blue leather jacket from the hook on the entrance door behind them. “Big meals are eaten in the cafeteria at certain times of the day though. Mobius wants to strengthen the team spirit but the cooks never say no to a late breakfast or a midnight snack if you ask them nicely.”

Loki narrowed his eyes at her. “Don’t you feel like a prisoner in this place?” A lackey for someone else to take the credit for your hard work, he added silently. He knew two of that kind—one being his brother, the other his alleged father. Loki suppressed a begrudged growl. Just in that moment and before she had a chance to reply to his provocative remark, there was a vigorous knock on the door.

“That’ll be your cue.” Jess announced. Loki had to force himself not to turn his head and catch one last glimpse of her as the grimly looking security man escorted him back to Mobius and, other than Jess, kept pushing him forward like cattle and yet, he was convinced he could feel her curious gaze resting on his back long after he had turned back around the corner, stepped into the elevator and even when he was reluctantly reunited with Mobius near the lab where they had first picked her up.

He was speaking to the same Minuteman who had interrupted them earlier—quietly, vividly and so engrossed in the seemingly heated conversation that he noticed Loki and his new bodyguard approaching only after his exceptional hearing had picked up shreds of information he made another mental note of using against them, sooner rather than later.

“You do realise that they’ll come after us with a vengeance, right? That could be the end of TVA once and for all, you know very well what he is capable of.”

“Let that be my concern. This is just a temporary solution—one which I am very curious about.”

“But it already—“

“I realise it already happened and that’s exactly why I’m doing this. All we need to do is stop it from happening again by observing the situation intently, stitch up the loop and we’ll be safe. This isn’t my first rodeo, Dave, you of all people should know this.”

“And what about the Tesseract? Wouldn’t it be smarter if we—“

The security officer cleared his throat, announcing their arrival.

“The Tesseract,” Loki interrupted with a glare, strutting towards them like the king he was born to become and despite his shackles, “belongs to me. It called out to me, it is mine.”

“You’ll find a lot of people in this facility who will disagree with you on that. Trust me. We’ll make sure you won’t get your hands on that cube again.” Dave snorted. “I hope you like your new lodging. Now come on, mischief maker. You’ve got a lot of work to do.”

~*~

A/N: And Scene! So what do you think, what do you think, what do you think? 🤯 I’m so excited to dive into this story! I literally recorded myself on my phone in the middle of the night a while back when all the ideas I had finally came together so I hope I’ll be taking you on an exciting journey with me!

Chapter 2

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clock-work-crow · 4 years ago

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Why Sylive did the right thing

So I'm going to say something that I feel like not enough people are saying. Sylvie did the right thing in creating the multiverse. The entire argument against creating the multiverse is predicated on He Who Remain's claim that there are worse versions of him out there, and he is the best possible solution.

To make this easier, I'm going to refer to variants of He Who Remains, as Kangs, and only use He Who Remains when I'm specifically talking about the person we meant in episode 6. So let's talk about all those Kangs. So the first thing we have to ask is, can there, in fact, be a worse Kang than He Who Remains?

I'd say no. Think about it. He Who Remains destroyed every timeline but one. He literally fed every person who ever lived and ever would live to Alioth millions of times over. It's mass murder on an incredible scale. He argues that without what he did, all of reality would be destroyed. That one surviving reality is better than the destruction of everything.

But as far as we know, none of the Kangs want to destroy all of reality. If one of them did, presumably enough of the others would band together to stop him. We are told they are capable of working together, in the same way, that some Loki's can get along, while others fall into ridiculous circles of betrayal.

So what do the other Kangs want? From the comics, we know Kang the Conqueror wants to rule over the multiverse. Compared to the alternative, that is not so terrible because He Who Remains already does rule over everything, except he's forcing people to live in one reality without choice. In the single Universe created by He Who Remains, there is no free will. No one can do anything that He Who Remains does not allow. If they do, the TVA prunes them, and they get fed to Alioth. That is absolute tyranny. At least in a multiverse ruled by a Kang, people would still be able to make choices.

Also, He Who Remains' timeline is limited. It ends. We see it, and it's a circle that loops back in on itself, and I suspect that's not natural. Yes, it seems fair to assume that eventually, time and the Universe will end, but consider what we hear about the future from the TVA. The Time Keepers are supposedly in the process of writing the future. We know the TVA tells all sorts of lies, but also they are time travelers. Clearly, they can't see the heat death of the Universe (or however else it might end). There's a point in time they can't travel past. Otherwise, they would not need to talk about an unwritten future.

So why does time seem to stop at a point where the Universe seems like it should continue? And when is that point? I think it has to be either when He Who Remains was born or at least sometime early in his life. Why? Well, any Kang born in He Who Remains Universe has to be a variant. This Kang could live his life exactly as He Who Remains did, until the point when He Who Remains discovered the multiverse because there is no multiverse to discover. And if this new Kang figured that out, sooner or later, he would find out about He Who Remains, and then trouble would begin all over again.

So time has to stop at some point. Even if He Who Remains were to actively prune himself before he could discover the lack of a multiverse, he has to make sure that no one else can ever discover it either. That's why there can be a Void at the End of Time. That's why we see the timeline in a loop around the Citadel, and why He Who Remains shows us the multiverse as a series of rings.

So He Who Remains has to stop time at a certain point. He has to destroy the future of the Universe. He isn't just controlling everything; in reality, he also destroys it, but without the opportunity for a new reality to rise up afterward.

But surely the other Kangs are worse, right? I mean, we know one of them is building giant statues of himself. Maybe the other Kangs are more arrogant. Perhaps some of them enjoy being cruel. He Who Remains is kind of endearing in a crazy 'I've been locked in my room for too long' kind of way. I suspect when we do see Kang, he will not be so friendly.

But that doesn't mean the other Kangs are worse. We don't know which Kang began the multiverse war; we only know which one ended it, and he did it in the most bloody way possible. He Who Remains is also very patronizing. He clearly believes that people can't be trusted with free will, but that's because he doesn't trust himself with it.

The cause of the multiverse war is Kang. He is the problem. Some of him can't get along with others of him, and they create a dangerous war over it. I'm sure other people get pulled into this war; that's how wars work, and if you were being invaded by another reality, why wouldn't you fight back?

But wars happen, and they end. He Who Remains believes the only possible end can be his solution or all of reality being destroyed. He believes he is inevitable.

But, you might say, wars hurt people, lots of people across lots of realities will suffer and die. Yes, probably true, but at least those people were allowed to live and exist before they suffered and died. In the Universe of He Who Remains, those people never got a chance to be happy, fall in love, or even live. Is it really better for entire realities not to have existed at all?

If He Who Remains is right, and he will just be born again, and take over everything all over again, then at least Sylvie has bought the multiverse a chance to breathe. Timelines will once again come into existence, people will once again have free will, at least for a while, until it all ends again.

But what about that Kang who builds statues of himself? We don't know much about his timeline yet, but let's assume it's not just the TVA that knows about him. Let's assume he's set himself up as God, and everyone in all of his reality's time and space knows that Kang is the ruler of the Universe, that he decides everyone's fate.

To be fair, that's probably a more boring timeline, but is it a worse one? First of all, Kang effectively is God; he really does determine what people are allowed to do and sends his TVA to erase them. Which actually isn't any different than what He Who Remains is doing; Kang is just upfront about it. If this Kang wants to be worshiped by all of existence. Well, at least there are no religious wars because there are no different religions; there is only Kang.

It comes down to a matter of personal preference at that point. If you live in a deterministic universe, where you have no control over the choices you make and no ability to change your life for the better, are you happier off knowing that or not knowing it?

Personally, I would rather know. I would rather know that my mistakes were not my fault because I just wasn't allowed to do better. I wouldn't have to feel guilty or bad about anything I did because I had no choice in doing any of it.

Other people might prefer not to know. They might prefer the illusion of free will. But whatever you prefer, is one Kang worse than the other? One is more honest but also more arrogant. As I said, the Kang as God-King of the Universe strikes me as more boring because there would not be as much room for art, philosophy, and all kinds of expression as people try to understand the nature of reality.

On the other hand, no ship-wars unless Kang finds them amusing.

Finally, there's the dumb meta reason that Sylvie was right. We know Kang can be stopped. We know there's another solution to the multiverse and that all reality in the MCU isn't going to end because Disney is going to keep making more content. Yeah, Sylvie and Loki and can't know that, but it's a question of whether they believe the Universe deserves the chance to prove itself better than Kang or if enslavement is its only option.

#loki #loki 2021 #loki meta #he who remains #kang #sylvie laufeydottir #loki mcu #loki tv series

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cratmang · 5 years ago

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Steven Vs. The Multiverse - You Too?

Nora Maheswaran and White Diamond Steven bond over a common past.

<< Previous Episode (Questions)

>> Next Episode (Mentor) (Coming soon!)

Conga: Ah, what a lovely day it is, here in the multiverse.

Conga: Well, we should be careful not to lose track of time. Steven and Nora should be here in 10 minutes--

Nora: Hey Conga, we woke up early--

Conga: (Too early!)

Steven: Pink AND White Diamond are here!?

Wait a minute, I'm White Diamond. The Diamond Alert is just detecting me.

But then why--

Nora: Pink Diamond must be nearby! We should hide!

Conga: Err, yes! You two go hide! I'll go distract her, and we'll regroup in ten minutes!

Nora: But you said that we shouldn't fight the Diamonds by ourselves, unless we want to get--

Conga: We said I'll distract her. Not fight her. Besides, I'm a Throne-Holder. We can hold my own against a D-D-D-Diamond! Heh heh!

Steven: Alright. If you say so. See you in ten minutes.

Nora: Do you think Conga’s alright? She should have met back up with us by now.

Steven: Well, this is a huge strawberry field, and we didn’t exactly agree on where we’d meet. She’s probably still looking for us.

I wish I had brought a lunch though. I skipped breakfast, and I’m getting hungry.

Wait, we’re in strawberry field! Lunch is literally growing off of the bushes, waiting to be picked!

Nora: I thought gems didn’t need to eat.

Steven: That’s what I heard, but some gems like to eat anyway. I guess I’m too used to eating to just... stop eating.

Actually, I don’t think I’m gonna be able to finish this huge strawberry. You want split it with me?

Nora: God, yes! ... please.

Nora: Can I ask you something? You “grew up” on Earth, right? Did you always know you were a gem?

Steven: Hmm? Oh, no. I didn't even know anything about being a gem until after I met Rose and the Crystal Gems. And that was... about a year ago? Give or take?

Nora: Wait, so up until then, you had NO idea you were a gem? You just thought you were a regular human?

Steven: Well, "regular" would be a bit of a stretch. But yeah. The weirdest part? Apparently, I had a life way before I came to Earth. I used to be THE White Diamond.

Nora: That's actually something I've been meaning to ask you about. Isn't White Diamond "the most powerful gem?" Not some chubby little kid? No offense.

Steven: Yeah, the one gem that rules over the entire empire. But I have no memory of any of that. Heck, I barely remember anything that happened 10 years ago, if at all.

Nora: ... Me too.

Steven: Wha?

Nora: For the longest time, I thought I was a human. But my healing powers, my "albinism," and my... gem... made it clear that there was no one else in the world like me. Then I met Amethyst, and I felt ecstatic... for all of 3 seconds. Afterword, she began talking my ear off about how she and I were "gems." Then later, I found out about my “past life” as Rose Quartz, and... well, I guess it’s nice to know my origin, but now I just felt even more out of place.

Steven: ... You too...?

...

Steven and Nora: FINALLY, SOMEONE WHO UNDERSTANDS!

Steven: That's it, this is officially the weirdest and also the best day of my life! I-I'm sorry for asking, but I gotta know, did you have to go through foster care too?

Nora: Yeah. Connie found me and took me home to her parents 8 years ago, and I've been living with them ever since. That is, until we moved to Beach City, and this whole "gem" thing came up, but once it's all over--

Steven: Wait, back up for a second. You grew up with Connie's family!?

Nora: Yeah? Why, who were your foster parents?

Steven: ...

I actually bounced between a lot of foster homes growing up. Generally, they weren't very good.

Nora: Oh... I'm sorry to hear that.

Steven: It's fine. Things have been much better for me after I ran away and met Earl. She and the Crystal Gems have felt more like a family than any of the ones I lived with.

Though to be honest, I kind of wish I was just a normal human, and not a gem. Or even a or half-gem, or whatever Rose-Quartz-Steven is.

Nora: You’re definitely not alone there. Being a gem has just been nothing but trouble for me.

Steven: But there’s not much we can really do about it. The only thing we can do is to live in the moment, and try to make the best of it. I mean, that's how I've been able to get through my hell of a life, and it’s worked out so far.

Nora: Yeah... you know what? You're right. I’ve got superpowers that I still don’t understand, and I’m part of a happy family. I should count myself lucky.

Steven: Take it from me, having the “intergalactic dictator” backstory is a real drag. You’re lucky you were Rose in your “past life,” and not a Diamond.

Hey, I just had an idea!

Nora: What is it?

Steven: You should meet Rose! From my universe! We’ll ask Conga to summon her, and then you can get to know her! Maybe she could even teach you more about your powers!

Nora: Are you sure that’s a good idea? If my “past life” was so eager to wipe her memories and live as a human, I don’t think an alternate version of her would really want to talk about her past. And to be honest, I don’t want to think about it either.

Steven: You don’t have to talk about your past. I just think you should meet her. Trust me, you’ll like her! She’s really kind and gentle.

... at least, towards people and gems that AREN’T Diamonds.

Nora: Heh heh. Alright, you’ve convinced me. Next time we see Conga, we’ll ask if she can summon Rose from your universe.

Conga: They have no idea... SHE has no idea.

Should we tell her? Should we say... anything?

"Hey Nora, you know Rose, right? Well, guess what? She’s not real! You’re actually Pink Diamond! Yes, THAT Pink Diamond! You and Rose were the result of an era-long con that was hatched with the intention of protecting the Earth!" Yeah, I'm sure that will go over well.

But she's going to find out the truth eventually, right?... right?

Perhaps, for now, she's better off not knowing...

After all, we’re in the midst of a grand performance. The last thing we need is the reveal of some life-changing secret on our minds.

TO BE CONTINUED...?

Thank you for reading!

<< Previous Episode (Questions)

>> Next Episode (Mentor) (Coming soon!)

Enjoying those higher resolution portraits?

If you think about it, Nora and Steven have very similar backstories. I like to think that the two of them would bond over their shared experience of being raised in human society, without any knowledge that they were a gem (but knowing that they didn’t fit in).

Actually, that’s half of the reason why I love the concept of crossovers - we get to see interactions between characters that would otherwise never interact.

Characters in order of appearance:

Conga Tourmaline: OCDoNotSteal

White Diamond Steven: @ask-whitepearl-and-steven (Read comic here)

Nora Maheswaran: @amnesia-au-nora-maheswaran (Read comic here)

BONUS

Hey, do either of you guys know a Lapis Lazuli? Just wondering.

Don’t think so. Is she a gem?

Yeah. She’s blue, and she has cool waterbending powers.

Wait... was she some sort of terrifying water monster that was bound to a mirror?

What? No! At least, not in my universe. I mean, I guess it’s possible she could have been, but that would’ve required me to heal her gem before befriending her and pulling her out of the mirror.

You guys... didn’t do that, did you?

Oh... Uh...

No.

#steven universe #steven vs the multiverse #su au crossover #wd!steven #nora maheswaran #conga tourmaline

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fungus-amongus00 · 4 years ago

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What about an au that Stans about how “weird” “Old man mucket” is and Ford askes about him, then Stan is confused but tells him where he lives and ford talks to his bud for the first time in a long time.

I am so sorry if this is confusing :(

No confusion here! I gotcha ^^ Hope you like it! FEELINGS TIME

Stanford remembered hearing it that morning and nearly dropping his coffee in the process. It had been the mention of a name he had forgotten about momentarily. After all, in all his travels across the multiverse, small things like that were bound to slip his mind. However, the fact that it brought about such a sudden reaction had shown that the memory was not entirely gone. It was still very much a part of him, and hearing that name, brought about a multitude of emotions. The strongest one wracking his brain was of….regret.

“Hey, kids. Did you see the latest video on Bramble? Man, I swear, that Old Man McGucket keeps getting crazier and crazier. I dunno what he’s gonna do next,” Stanley laughed and then even harder when Mabel showed him another video.

“I mean, yeah, it’s funny, but I feel kind of bad for the guy. He lives by himself near the dump, and no one’s tried to, you know, help him at all?” Dipper added, sipping on his strawberry milk.

“Ah, lighten up, kid. As far as I know, that’s just..how he lives. He doesn’t seem like he’s unhappy or anything.” Stanley did stop laughing momentarily. Of course Dipper always had to be the realist just like someone else he knew. He finally noticed Ford standing in the doorway, looking like he was about to pass out. “Sixer? You all good over there?”

“Oh, no, Grunkle Ford! You dropped your mug.” Mabel hurried over to scoop it up. Luckily, it wasn’t one of the ceramic ones and didn’t break upon impact. It took Stanford a couple of seconds before he registered she was grabbing paper towels to clean up the mess.

“Terribly sorry, Mabel. I zoned out for a moment there,” he apologized, helping her sop it up before it spread to the rug. “I just...you guys were talking about Fiddleford Hadron McGucket...right?”

Stanley raised an eyebrow. How the hell did those two know each other?

“Wait, how do you know his full name?”

“Did you not read his journals, Grunkle Stan? McGucket was his assistant in his research. He was...a genius, really,” Dipper said with a concerned look towards Ford. “I would’ve done something, but..I’m not exactly sure how to help him. He lost a lot of his memory.”

“You said he lives over by the dump, right?” As soon as Dipper said “yes” in response, Ford was out of there in about five seconds flat, dashing off towards the dump.

“Ooh! Should we follow him, Dipper? Maybe Grunkle Ford can get the old Fiddleford back!” Mabel gasped. By the look in her eyes, Dipper could tell she had already made up her mind.

As soon as she ran off, Dipper sighed and grabbed his backpack. He’d really hear it from both Mabel and Grunkle Stan if he didn’t go with. “Uh, be back in a bit, Grunkle Stan!”

Stanford didn’t stop running until he got to McGucket’s shack. In hindsight, he could’ve had Stan drive him, but this was urgent. He gasped when he saw where he was living. Oh, Fiddleford… He felt that guilt hanging heavy on his chest again. How long had he gone on not even knowing he was here? Of course, he had only recently returned to this dimension, but still! How could he forget about the person most dear to him. The person who….he betrayed..for an interdimensional demon with empty promises. For a moment, he stopped himself as he started walking up to the shack. If his memories returned...would he hate him still? He wouldn’t blame Fiddleford if he never wanted to see him again.

Mustering some courage, Stanford took a deep breath and continued onwards to what sort of resembled a door. A six fingered fist lingered at it a moment before tentatively knocking. He heard rustling from within before a raccoon bolted out of there, making him jump and nearly fall over. Was a raccoon his only company now?? His heart nearly stopped when Fiddleford stood in the doorway, his beard all the way down to his feet and what looked like...a bandage on his beard? Stanford wasn’t about to question it. Fiddleford stared blankly at him before saying, “Well, howdy, there! Can I help you with somethin’?”

The words caught in Stanford’s throat for a moment. There was so, so much he wanted to say, mostly “I’m sorry, so sorry,” but he held it back. He didn’t know how much of his memory was missing, but given his living conditions, and the fact that he wasn’t completely pissed at him right now, he’d say a lot. He held up a six fingered hand in a wave, putting on his best smile even though his body simply didn’t want to, no matter how much it hurt.

“Hey, Fiddleford. I’m an...old friend, Stanford Pines. Do you..remember me at all?”

Fiddleford seemed utterly confused. He “hmm’d” to himself, scratching his beard and looking Stanford over. It got to the point where it seemed to be causing him physical pain, finally stopping with a groan. “Aw, sorry, there. Can’t seem to recall your name, but you’re that new scientist guy that arrived here in Gravity Falls, right? Sorry if I’m wrong. My memory ain’t what it used to be, you know?”

Stanford let out a sigh and an understanding nod. He figured this was probably going to be the case. Perhaps, he needed some stimuli to get things going.

“It’s alright, Fiddleford. I know you’ve been through a lot...trust me, I do, so I hope you don’t mind this.”

Taking a breath, Stanford reached out to place his hands on Fiddleford’s shoulders, slowly drawing him into a hug.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me, Fiddleford. I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for everything that happened. I should’ve put my trust in you, not Bill. Driving you away is one of my deepest regrets. Even in other dimensions, it haunted me in my dreams. I wish...I wish I could take that hurt away, but we both know even the memory gun isn’t perfect. Memories don’t simply disappear, right, Fidds?” In that moment, he didn’t think about if Fiddleford didn’t know what he was talking about. All that mattered now was that he was hugging him again. He didn’t need forgiveness. It was the closure that he’d get at least.

For a minute, Fiddleford stayed still, but he slowly wrapped his arms around Stanford, sighing softly. Just feeling safe in his arms and his familiar scent, he felt a rush of memories coming back to him, especially with the use of his old nickname Stanford often called him back then. He glanced over when he felt Stanford trembling, tightening his grip on his shirt. His head..well, really hurt, especially at the fact that Stanford was here and in his arms.

“It was a tough time for both of us. And you know, I forgive you, Stanford. It’s been far too long for me to hold onto a grudge now.”

Stanford gasped when he heard him call him by his name. Were his memories..returning? Was his hypothesis correct? Tears started to run down his cheeks as he cupped Fiddleford’s face with trembling hands. “Fidds….you really remember me? I-I mean, you shouldn’t forgive me. I betrayed you. You were the person I was closest to, and I turned my back on you, drove you mad enough to use the memory gun on yourself. I..I don’t think I deserve it..”

“Oh, Stanford,” Fiddleford chuckled, looking up at him with the softest smile. “What matters is learning from your mistakes. Obviously, you found out the truth about Bill and his intentions, and you worked hard to correct your mistakes. Like I said, it’s been too long for me to hold onto a grudge, right, old buddy?”

He winced a bit when another headache and rush of memories came on. “Ah, look at this. You’re sparking so many lost memories o’ mine. It’s like magic!”

Stanford let out a choked laugh, having to remove his glasses a moment to wipe away his tears.

“Yeah, it kind of is. I would say magic doesn’t actually exist, but..I’ve seen far too much to say that anymore. Plus, Mabel would probably kick me in the shin if she heard me say that.” After taking a moment to collect himself, Stanford offered his hand to Fiddleford. “How about we find a place to chat and catch up? My brother actually turned the old cabin into a tourist trap of sorts, but it’s a good place to hang out in. And really? A shack, Fidds?”

“Hey, don’t blame me! I lost my mind, literally!” Fiddleford teased and accepted Stanford’s hand. The warm touch of it was something he really had missed.

“OH MY GOD, GRUNKLE FORD! That was sooo cute! I actually started crying myself,” Mabel squealed from a nearby bush as she tumbled out of it followed by Dipper. “Oh my gosh! You guys are literally the cutest!”

“Mabel...they just met again after...a really long period of time,” he said, having forgotten the exact number. “How about we give them some space?”

“Oh, yes, yes. Space is important, but afterwards you guys have to tell me everything!”

Stanford chuckled as he watched her drag Dipper off, guiding Fiddleford along. Things were still a little...awkward, but he was sure they’d regain their footholds in their relationship again. Things were a little different now, but after all these years, Fiddleford was still Fiddleford, and that was enough for him.

#gfalls #gravity falls #fiddauthor #writing #au #anonymous #ask #thanks for sending me a prompt!!

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dontasktheradiodemon · 4 years ago

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Scheming (with Sandwiches) (5/3/2021)

Alastor talks to Valera @autokrates about her visit from Ruler Of Hell King Alastor @akillingspreeinwhite—and more importantly, what to do about him if he decides he wants to start conquering other Hells.

Alastor's plan: an alliance between as many potentially threatened dimensions as possible.

Alastor

Lunch time! Hello Valera guess who it is, it's Alastor. "I hope you don't mind, I thought it might be nice to have lunch together today! Sandwich?" The sandwich is an innocent gift of friendship with no ulterior motives! And also it's a bribe.

Valera

Lunch time! A great time, usually. A chance to gossip with coworkers AND eat. And look who's here, it's Alastor, with a very innocent sandwich! "Mind? Not at all, by all means my dear, it's a pleasure."

She does TRY to take a bite from the sandwich, but before she can even sink her teeth into it her whole face twists and she has to put it aside to flop her head down and groan. Don't mind her clutching her stomach, this is normal. "Eelizzy is *rioting* back home, oh my *gods*. Feels like I swallowed a radio full of hornets."

Alastor

"Oh, don't you hate that? When you're trying to pick up a station on the radio and there's so much interference all you hear is *buzzing*?" He's proud of himself for that joke. He shouldn't be. "Try this, see if it calms her down any." He sends over a song. <https://youtu.be/2t4iBbfwBLw>

Valera

She'd glare at him for that joke, but she's too busy making her poor floppy at-home body cooperate long enough to open a link. "Louisiana Lullaby? Well by name alone it promises results. She loved New Orleans."

A minute passes, and she slowly sits upright. The sandwich is cautiously picked up, and she nibbles at the crust as she raises both eyebrows at Alastor. She can guess what he really wants to know. "Incredible, even from a distance you're better at wrangling a kid than your more... *royal* alternate." That's an opening if she's ever given one, here you go Alastor.

Alastor

His smile widens. The exact topic he wanted to talk about! "I take it his visit was rather... stomach-turning?"

Valera

She glances around, making sure they're far enough away from any coworkers, then leans in with gossiping intent. "Putting it *mildly*. He's very tall, he's very self assured, and he's got the worst vibes I've ever felt roll off of a man. Like dunking my face in used cooking oil. And get this. The second he stepped into my house, Eelizzy started thrashing like a harpooned whale. She's never reacted so violently to *anything*."

Alastor

A slow nod. "That's never a good sign. I trust the judgment of the as yet unborn, they tend to be less prejudiced. And I take it you don't think it was a mere reaction to his power level?"

Valera

Her head cocks to the right, nose scrunching in thought. "He gave me one of Lucifer's flight feathers, so I assume she felt some of that power too. But I put the thing away and she still spent the entire visit either flailing or spitting static at him every time he got too close."

The hand not holding the sandwich brushes her barbels back, rubbing her forehead. "I suppose it's possible that his energy was simply so foreign she reacted strongly, but I live with *Leal*. She's been around for everything from eldritch magic to his full demonic form and barely even stirred. When she met Alexa? Happily buzzing at him barely a minute in. You saw how well she took to you, too. She's met dragons, gods, demons, sinners, and not a single one had her that pissed. Even Seapup was growling at him and Seapup loves *everyone*."

Alastor

"If she doesn't even react to *gods* like that, I'm going to assume it's the quality rather than the quantity." He sighs. "Well, *that's* telling, isn't it! I'm not sure *what* it's telling us yet—but I don't think I'm going to like the answer, do you?"

Valera

She snorts. "No. No I do *not*. He got to my planet unaided, Alastor. Got into my house without me giving any sort of direction. He knew the planet's name before I ever told him. And I want to chalk that up to just him reading my blog, but... I know he's followed me and Leal around without either of us being able to sense him."

Alastor

Alastor nods. "He mentioned that to me too, your 'being followed' adventure. I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if the king's done it more than once. Or, considering how strong he has to be to have seized the throne, he might have additional methods of sussing out information. All of which are probably bad news."

Valera

This poor sandwich is never going to get eaten at this rate, there she goes putting it down again. "No kidding. He's been the pinnacle of manners and social grace for now, but.." A shrug, and she offers Alastor a wan smile. "I don't trust that to last. He's an outlier to the already unpredictable Alastor model."

Alastor

"No, I don't trust it either." His voice lowers—not his usual trick of changing his tone of voice to pretend he's being quieter, but an actual lowering of volume. "Here's the thing. I don't trust a single one of my alternates that's joined in the overlord rat race—much less has made king. A propensity toward boredom like mine should *never* be married to earnest political ambitions. When he gets bored, he's going to do what he's always done: conquer. And if there's no more room for him to move *upward,* he'll start moving *outward.* And wouldn't you know it, he's *just* found the multiverse."

Valera

"Exactly." She exhales almost too forcefully for it to be a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. What a headache this was turning out to be. "I *really* don't want to test my mettle against even a normal Alastor alt, the idea of *that* man being able to show up in my house on a whim and start trying to play at the All American Dream of Conquering the Alien Menace is... Not good." An absent minded rubbing of her stomach, self soothing and comforting an egg that was universes away. "I'm not ashamed to admit that I am, on some level, absolutely terrified."

Alastor

"You're not alone," Alastor admits. "Not to downplay your very realistic 'heroic human conquering the savage alien world' fears, but if human history has proven anything, it's that we tend to try conquering our neighbors first and only travel farther after we either succeed or decide it's more trouble than it's worth. And neighbors don't get much closer than a parallel copy of the same place."

Valera

"Oh dear." Grimacing, she lifts a hand like she's about to offer comfort, letting it hover for a moment before slowly putting it back down. No, don't do for the shoulder pat just yet. "I don't like that one bit, Alastor. But for what it's worth, if it came down to it, I'd try to help you."

Alastor

"That is *exactly* what I wanted to discuss." Alastor's eyes glow brighter. "Now, any version of me that's conquered Hell is going to be stronger than any version of me that hasn't, that's practically a given. He could beat any *one* of us hands down. I haven't seen *you* at full power, but frankly that's a boxing match I wouldn't want to bet money on for either side. But—*but*—if enough of us have agreed we'll fight him if he stepped out of line... The more of us agree to fight in defense of each other's dimensions, the better a chance we'll collectively stand. Leclerq and I have already agreed to offer each other mutual support. With three of us, we might have the start of a proper defense."

Valera

She folds her hands, listening as Alastor lays out his plan. Strength in numbers, it was an effective strategy. She could think of a few others who would gladly throw their hats in the ring in the name of keeping the line as well, Alastor or otherwise. "Alright. I'll add myself to that list, and pray we never need it."

Alastor

He laughs wryly. "And I'll be praying for backup in case we *do* need it. Apparently upstairs doesn't care about who's calling the shots in Hell, if they didn't intervene before my alternate could take the crown; but maybe they'll start to care if multiple Hells start uniting in one empire."

Valera

She snorts despite herself, shaking her head. "I hope so! Wouldn't that be something, heaven and hell uniting forces against one common enemy! I just hope we never have to see it."

Alastor

"So do I." He takes a deep breath. "So! Anything else of interest to report from his little visit? You mentioned *you* didn't like his... 'vibes'?"

Valera

"Oh! Yeah. Holy shit." A WELCOME subject change. "He's freaky. And I don't like that I know even one of his kinks. I want to know zero of them." She shrugs and picks her sandwich back up. At last, something she can eat while discussing. "As far as his visit though. He gave me one of Lucifer's flight feathers. Which I _immediately_ handed off to mon cerf."

Alastor

"He certainly has poor taste in kinks." He says this like his ace ass is some sort of elitist kink connoisseur. Like a wine snob judging a broke-ass college kid for drinking box wine. "But is that the *only* sense you meant he's freaky in, or...? Granted, handing an acquaintance a souvenir harvested from the body of one's vanquished nemesis is a hell of an opening statement all by itself, but."

Valera

"I wish." Look at that face scrunch. It won't keep her from taking a bite out of her sandwich, but still. "No, I mean his very presence was like trying to breathe oil. He's.." She frowns, brow furrowing as she tries to think of a less melodramatic way to put it. "He's nice, but in the way people are nice to a pet."

Alastor

A huff. "I got a little bit of that impression from talking to him. Granted, Radio Demons are a naturally condescending lot, but even at that..." He searches for the right words. "He strikes me as the kind of person incapable of seeing anyone as his equal. Even his own alternates."

Valera

She nods. "Yes, I think you're right. We're entertainment more than we are people. Perhaps _especially_ his alternates, come to think of it.." Judging by the way he'd treated his alts on dash..

Alastor

"Could be worse—could be outright loathing—but I'm wary around any alternate who can't even see *himself* as a kindred spirit. I'm hoping I can take advantage of it, though. I've got an open invitation to visit his dimension sometime to provide entertainment—a few Hamilton songs from me in exchange for a tour. I plan on scouting the place out then."

Valera

"Oh yeah! You do, don't you! You should try and see what happened to the other overlords in his Hell. Assuming he didn't kill them as soon as they manifested, I've wondered whats become of them."

Alastor

"So have I. I have to think overlords still exist—what does it matter to a king if the peasants claim ownership of a block or two?—but whether any of them are the same overlords *we* know..." He grimaces. "He said he took power in the fifties, didn't he? If we're assuming a worst case scenario where he executed all the overlords who currently existed, that includes Sir Pentious and Rosie. Maybe Rosie was minor enough to be spared, if anyone was spared at all; but someone else with ambitions for the throne..."

Valera

She scowls, shoving the rest of the sandwich in her mouth to keep from saying anything before she can think it over. He was right, and the thought was.. Deeply uncomfortable. A hard swallow, and she starts brushing the crumbs off her chest. "We're set to have lunch together tomorrow, *out* of my house." She doesn't sound especially *happy* about the arrangement, but oh well. "If I learn anything new, I'll let you know. Between the two of us, we should hopefully be able to get a feel for what situation we're dealing with. Odds are his Pentious was exterminated."

A blink, and she squints. "Actually, he said something to Theodore today. His Hell has had some *significant* technological advancements since he took the throne, he was very proud of that fact. All radio based, obviously, but he doesn't strike me as an inventor."

Alastor

"*Our* Hell's had significant technological advancements since the fifties, too," Alastor pointed out. "He could be collecting newly-dead inventors and pressing them to turn their expertise toward radio-based applications. Or, hell—it could simply be that having V#x out of the way means the technological developments in Hell naturally drifted a different way."

He gives Valera a tired, wan smile. "I'd *like* to imagine that Sir Pentious is happily toiling away as the royal inventor, but I don't want to get my hopes up. I don't think the majority would be happy with that."

Valera

"Mm, I'm being too optimistic. And he would hate it, so maybe it's for the better that he's probably been exterminated." She sighs. "I don't know if we manage to find trouble, Alastor, or trouble manages to find us. Either way, what a pain. Any other questions before we drag ourselves back to the dreadful chore of watching Hamilton get shot on stage over and over?"

Alastor

"Just one." He nods toward the stage. "Do you think it's been long enough since the last time I got in trouble that I can start singing 'he's never gon' be president now' when the bullet connects?"

Valera

Now that is a very serious question that must be considered.... Hrm... "Yes, but barely. I think the director would throw his clipboard at you, but not much beyond that. He's on his sixth coffee of the day, so the odds of dodging are in your favor."

Alastor

"Maybe he'll forgive me out of pity if I let it connect." He stands, picks up his own sandwich—yeah, he's had a sandwich this whole time—and devours it in five huge bites. "Shall we?"

Valera

For some reason, she's tempted to clap at that display. But no time for more banter, it's back to work. "We shall."

Alastor

Back to work. Time to watch Hamilton get shot again.

Valera

~~Boooooo give us a twist ending next time, add some leopards eating people's faces~~

Alastor

~~Hamilton is the leopard and he tries to eat Alastor's face for singing in the middle of his dramatic death~~

#autokrates #chat log #akillingspreeinwhite

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primepanels · 3 years ago

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Love Comes With Conditions?

Karnell, a god of love from the Dark Multiverse, lectures Wonder Woman on love.

Is there such a thing as unconditional love? I think so. GotQuestions.org says this:

It is important to note that God’s love is a love that initiates; it is never a response. That is precisely what makes it unconditional. If God’s love were conditional, then we would have to do something to earn or merit it. We would have to somehow appease His wrath or cleanse ourselves of sin before God would be able to love us. But that is not the biblical message. The biblical message—the gospel—is that God, motivated by love, moved unconditionally to save His people from their sin.

So since God loves everyone, then he will save everyone, right?

Also important is the fact that God’s unconditional love does not mean that everyone will be saved (see Matthew 25:46). Nor does it mean that God will never discipline His children. To ignore God’s merciful love, to reject the Savior who bought us (2 Peter 2:1), is to subject ourselves to God’s wrath for eternity (Romans 1:18), not His love. For a child of God to willfully disobey God is to invite the Father’s correction (Hebrews 12:5–11).

Does God love the people in hell? Does he still love those on whom he pours out his wrath? After all, 2 Peter 3:9 says, "The Lord is not slow to fulfill his promise as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance." Perhaps he loves them and hates them at the same time? Or does he only love those who've been adopted into his family through true belief, repentance, and trust? Honestly, I don't know the intricacies of it all. It's possible that God's love is unconditional, but his salvation isn't. I mean, I know his salvation isn't. Otherwise, I'd be a universalist.

All I can say is that those who repent and trust in Christ are children of God, and he definitely loves his children. And he calls his children to bring the message of salvation to all who aren't yet children in hopes that they will join the family.

Also, Karnell is a dirtbag.

From Wonder Woman vol. 8: Dark Gods.

#Wonder Woman #DC Comics #Diana of Themyscira #Dark Gods #James Robinson #Karnell #Dark Pantheon

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threads-of-trust · 4 years ago

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robot.. hooker..?

“Oh my fucking god-! Ivy! That fucking robotic bitch!” Miu spat at you, looking beyond annoyed that you needed an explanation. She walked straight over to said girl’s lab and began banging on the door with her fist as loudly as possible. “Open up, you emotionless cunt!”

Ivy was rounding a nearby corner, on the way to her lab. It was rather strange, seeing Miu banging on the door. “...since when were you so interested in seeing my lab, Miu?”

Miu turned her head, gritting her teeth at the fact she just looked like an idiot banging on the door with nobody home. “Fuck your lab! I’m looking for you.” She hissed, stomping over and practically shoving her tablet in Ivy’s face, pressing the play button as all-too-familiar images flashed over it. “What the fuck is this!? And why are you trying to hide it, huh!?” She demanded.

Ivy’s eyes went wide. “...what...? They...they got footage of Æsir-Fest?! No, there’s no way. That happened in my world! Since when could-!” Ivy cut herself off, realizing what could’ve happened. Her hands clenched into fists. “...my memories. My fucking memories. They went through them. Probably Vanessa’s, too. It’s the only explanation.” She groans in frustration, turning away from Miu, letting her hands relax. “...I hid that information because it holds no relevance in this world. Why talk about something that technically didn’t even happen?”

“I don’t care what god damn multiverse it happened in! You got a shit load of people killed, do you get that!? People died! Because of you! You-! You might as well be labeled a mass murderer!” Miu growled, her anger growing now that Ivy wasn’t looking at her. “What!? You don’t like hearing the truth? Look me in the eyes, you fucking coward!”

“You think I did that just to hurt people!? Miu, you clearly don’t know me very well. I hate hurting people. Æsir-Fest was meant to collect a large amount of data about emotions in a short amount of time. I didn’t know the side effects until it had already took place! How was I supposed to know taking memories from people in virtual reality would do that to people?!” Ivy turned back around sharply, grabbing Miu’s collar and pulling her close. “Don’t you dare call me a fucking coward. I spent years trying to save Vanessa. I broke into high-security buildings, stole highly confidential data, and gave my own life in the process. You? You’re just as broken as I am. Putting up masks to hide your own faults, your insecurities. We both did things that we regret. The only difference is: I’ve already experienced the downfall. Perhaps that’s why we both got each other’s secrets.”

“You-!!” Miu shrunk at being yanked forward by the collar, wanting to cower but pushing through. Her eyes shrunk with panic at Ivy’s last sentence, pulling herself away violently and stumbling while doing so. “You already experienced the downfall...? Meaning I haven’t, h-huh?” She forced a strained laugh out. “I went into a coma. I ruined-! I hurt... you think I don’t sit here and think about how I hurt him!? You think I don’t blame myself!? Is that not punishment enough!? I work harder than anyone else to make up for it every fucking day. Just because I don’t have blood on my hands, doesn’t mean I didn’t suffer, you stuck up bitch!” She yelled, but it’s easy to see tears forming in her eyes, just from the thought of someone knowing her secret.

Ivy tilted her head. “Oh? Are you truly without blood on your hands? Hm.” She let go of Miu’s collar, reaching into her hoodie and pulling out the video she got. Holding it out for Miu to take. “You know, I initially thought you wouldn’t remember. At least...not to the level of detail that I saw. Your reaction, however...well, let’s just say I’m not terribly sure now.” She forced a smile for a moment, before sighing, finding the effort unnecessary. “...I don’t hate you, truthfully. I never did, and I probably never will. I’ve never been able to really...stay angry at anybody for very long. Don’t really know why.”

Miu tumbled back in a huff at being released, snatching away the video and throwing it on the ground with all her might. It didn’t shatter, it hardly did anything actually, the videos were near indestructible. Which only made the inventor more angry. “It’s the only fucking thing I remember from being a kid! That it’s my fault, right!? That I caused the stupid fucking crash! W-What the fuck was I supposed to do, huh!? He was drunk! H-He handed me the keys! I-I... I was only a kid!! I didn’t know how t-to drive or what to do! It’s my fucking fault, no matter what anyone says! I could’ve p-prevented it if I was just-! If I’d-!” She shook like a leaf in a storm while yelling and trying to stomp the video into pieces. “I gotta get out of here, I have to. I-I haven’t made it up to him yet! I can’t fucking die here. I-I won’t-!” She proclaimed with a shaky voice.

Ivy watched as Miu tried to destroy the video, only to suddenly step on the tablet between her stomps and kick it backwards, away from Miu. "...Miu, I get it. I feel the same way over Æsir-Fest. We both did things we regret. Not a moment goes by without me...thinking about what I could've done differently." She turned around, moving to pick up the tablet and stow it away in her hoodie. “Grief is...a strange thing, isn’t it? The way it takes on different forms, with different causes... well, it certainly intrigues me.”

“Can you act like a normal person for five fucking seconds? I’m having a g-god damn breakdown!” Miu sniffles, wiping at her eyes. “Grief isn’t interesting, it’s miserable, you wignut! How am I supposed to trust you now? I don’t even what you are. You’ll take my m-memories for your stupid Fuck-Fest too, won’t you..?” She asked, naturally aggressive but more vulnerable with her words now.

“Miu, I have no need for that anymore. The emotion samples were for Vanessa. She’s perfectly fine now. Æsir-Fest wasn’t the goal, it was a means.” Ivy sighs, making her way towards her lab. “And honestly? I don’t expect anyone to trust me. When you’re a robot who’s been infiltrating human society for over five years, trust has a steep price. Normalcy is a luxury.” She opens the door to her lab. “...I have a sculpture to finish. If you wish to speak to me again, you can wait for me in the lobby. Unlike Aditi, I can’t exactly drown my sorrows in alcohol.”

“......” Miu looked out off by her emotions being so thoroughly dismissed. What else should expect from a robot? Even Pixel acted this way at times, despite the emotions function she added onto her. Ivy wasn’t any different. And now, the inventor looked like a fool for trying to confide in her. She glared at the ground before turning her back and huffing. “Whatever. Go carve your fucking ice, I guess. It’s fine... what the fuck ever...” She scoffed before walking off, completely red in the face and indignant.

“...” Ivy didn’t respond, softly closing the door behind her as Miu walked away. She sighed, taking off her hoodie and hanging it up on a convenient hook near the door, before leaning against the door, letting herself slide down to the floor. Something definitely struck a nerve...

#🛠miu iruma: ultimate inventor💖#❄ivy: ultimate ???💻#✉woven messages: ask🧵#🎭frayed threads: anonymous❓

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aion-rsa · 4 years ago

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Marvel’s Loki Episode 5 Ending Explained: Who is the Real Villain of the MCU Series?

https://ift.tt/36oBhxO

This article contains spoilers for Loki episode 5.

Agent Mobius did say that time ran differently in the TVA but who could have imagined that the penultimate episode of Loki would arrive so quickly? Marvel’s Loki episode 5 “Journey Into Mystery” keeps up a streak of superb installments for this increasingly superb show.

In this hour, Mobius joins the side of the heroes, Judge Renslayer has some questions, and Loki and Sylvie’s relationship continues to blossom thanks to the conjuring of an uncomfortable green blanket. Equally as important, however, is that “Journey Into Mystery” raises some big questions about the ending of this show and the future of the MCU. Questions like…

What is The Void?

This episode does a pretty good job of succinctly describing what the Void is. The Void is the end of time, itself. Since the Time-Keepers are unable to completely destroy matter (Theory of Conservation of Mass and all that), they send unwanted Variants to the end of the timeline to languish or be swallowed by a hungry monster (more on him in a bit).

In Marvel Comics, The Void is something of an actual character. It is a destructive amorphous entity capable of both adopting a corporeal form and destroying the universe as we know it. During the Siege storyline, the Void even killed Loki, which then facilitated his “rebirth” as Kid Loki. See how this all starts to fit together?

What is Alioth?

In the world of Loki, Alioth is a big, hungry cloud monster that prowls the Void looking to consume yummy matter. It’s the TVA’s unwitting cleaning service, wiping out all the Variants that the TVA can’t eliminate. Classic Loki helpfully offers up the analogy that the Void is a shark tank, and Alioth is the shark.

Alioth of the comics was first introduced in 1993’s Avengers: The Terminatrix Objective #1. That same comic also introduced Ravonna Renslayer and features Kang the Conqueror as its central villain. Oh yeah, it’s all coming together.

Alioth is considered to be the first being that broke free from the constraints of time. It’s no wonder then that it would make an appearance in Loki.

What’s Up With That Castle?

It’s about time a Marvel villain lives in an honest-to-goodness castle! While it’s still possible that this is a misdirect and this environment is not what it seems, for now it looks like episode 6 will be headed off to a spooky castle.

Interestingly, there are no shortages of spooky castles in Marvel comics lore. Perhaps the most famous one is Castle Doom within Doomstadt. Bet you’ll never guess who lives there! Yes, it’s ol’ Victor von Doom himself, Doctor Doom to his friends…of which he has very few.

Another notable abode is Castle Limbo, which serves as the home of Immortus, who was once Nathaniel Richards a.k.a. Kang the Conqueror. Look, Kang is a confusing character, so you’ll just have to trust us on this one.

What is Mobius’s Plan?

Thank the gods that Loki and Mobius finally embraced their destiny as best bros. Mobius leaves all the Lokis behind in The Void to return to the TVA. What does he plan to do once he gets there? Why, burn the whole thing down, of course!

It’s unclear how Mobius believes he’s able to pull off such a grand task. The TVA is an enormous bureaucracy with seemingly infinite moving parts. The only real weapon that Mobius has at his disposal is the truth. The truth changed his and Hunter B-15’s perspectives but can it do the same for everyone else? The only other named TVA employee that we’re aware of is Casey (Eugene Cordero). He seems like a sweet, non-confrontational lad. But perhaps that will all change once he realizes he’s been robbed of fish dinners his whole life.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

What Becomes of the Other Lokis?

The most pleasantly strange aspect of “Journey Into Mystery” is how many new Lokis it introduces. This hour features: Classic Loki (Richard E. Grant), Boastful Loki (DeObia Oparei), Kid Loki (Jack Veal), President Loki (Hiddleston), and Alligator Loki (uh… a CGI alligator). Naturally, each of those Lokis has their own official hashtag sprite on Twitter.

Fittingly for their chaotic energy, each of the Lokis introduced in this episode have quite different ultimate fates. Boastful Loki betrays his Loki comrades, because that’s just what Lokis do. The subsequent scene of President Loki and his Void army battling the other Lokis is one of the best moments of this show yet. That causes our Loki to take off with Classic, Kid, and Alligator. When Mobius invites that trio to come back to the TVA with him, they decline because the Void is their home now.

Sylvie is the Secret Heart of Marvel’s Loki

By Lacy Baugher

Games

How Loki and Fallout Use Retrofuturism to Unnerve Us

By Matthew Byrd

That is the last we’ve seen of Kid Loki and Alligator Loki thus far but not the last of Classic Loki. The comic-accurate trickster returns to help Loki and Sylvie when they need it the most. He uses stunningly powerful magic to create an approximation of Asgard all around him, distracting the ravenous Alioth. Even Sylvie with her enchantress power is stunned by Classic Loki’s abilities.

Is Richard E. Grant’s Classic Loki Really Dead?

Ultimately Classic Loki is swallowed up by the Alioth and therefore finally blinked out of existence. Or is he? It seems like he could have been utilizing the very same technique here he claims to have used to escape his death at the hands of Thanos in Avengers: Infinity War. “I think we’re stronger than we realize,” Loki tells Sylvie, so this would certainly be a case of that if it came down to it.

Plus, that leads us to the final and most important question that this episode raises.

Who is the Villain?

Who indeed? There has been one name bandied about as the most likely Loki Big Bad. Before we get to him (and it’s absolutely who you think), indulge us in another theory. What if the villain of Loki is…

Classic Loki or Another Loki Variant

Richard E. Grant is kind of a big deal as an actor. It’s not every day you can find a seasoned performer who can portray a kindly exterior with some menace underneath. With that in mind, it’s possible that Classic Loki is a bigger character than he appears at first glance. This episode goes out of its way to communicate just how powerful Lokis can be. And when you combine that kind of god-like power with a trickster’s sensibility, it’s not hard to imagine that Classic Loki, or another Loki entirely, could be pulling all the strings.

Kang the Conqueror

While Loki confronting himself in the end would make for a dramatically interesting enterprise, the hard evidence at hand still seems to indicate that Kang the Conqueror is our real villain. The internet at large has been banging the drum for Kang the Conqueror as the ultimate Loki villain for weeks now and it’s not hard to see why.

This isn’t a case of collective delusion like with all of the Nightmare/Mephisto WandaVision theorizing, Kang really does seem to be a legitimate possibility. For starters, we know we already have an MCU actor for Kang in the fold already in the form of Jonathan Majors (Lovecraft Country). Kang was announced for Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania but doesn’t it sound very Marvel for the character to make his unexpected debut here?

In the comics, Kang the Conqueror is wrapped up in multiverses, timelines, and all manner of heady sci-fi nonsense that Loki is already invested in. In fact, as Reddit user u/Hpotter821 points out, one iteration of Kang in Marvel comics sought to become Immortus by eliminating all of his other Variants. It would seem that creating the TVA to police other timelines would be quite useful in that mission.

Then there’s the fact that Kang has at least some level of crossover with just about every major character and element of Loki. Kang has a relationship with Ravonna Renslayer in the comics and is also an occasional rival of Alioth. The show is not shy about injecting Kang’s aesthetic into the proceedings. While ostensibly space lizards as Loki described them, the Time-Keepers do appear to resemble the classic Kang the Conqueror look a bit. And the TVA logo?

Oh. Hey. I just noticed that the centerpiece of the Time Variance Authority’s seal totally looks like Kang’s head. 🤷‍♂️ #Loki pic.twitter.com/93QzNDVSbi

— Ken Plume (@KenPlume) July 2, 2021

Oh yeah, that’s Kang, baby.

Perhaps by this time next week, all of this Kang conjecture will look as silly as WandaVision’s Mephisto fever dream. It’s undeniable, however, that Loki has provided us with plenty of breadcrumbs. If it’s all a Kang-sized red herring, then so be it.

Doctor Doom

This is a considerable longshot, despite the fact that we’ve wanted it to happen for a long time. Doom was at the center of Marvel Comics’ multiverse-shattering Secret Wars event by Jonathan Hickman and Esad Ribic, and the castle we see in this episode’s conclusion sure does look an awful lot like his humble Doomstadt home.

Every time we get excited about Doctor Doom or the potential Secret Wars threads embedded in this show, we’re brought back to reality by the fact that there’s virtually no way that Marvel would introduce arguably their greatest villain in a teasing series finale episode, especially not when they’ve got the Kang-centric Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania to tee up with Kang. Yes, we’re hedging our best by including him, but can you blame us?

Anyway, patience, Doom fans. The Fantastic Four movie is finally a priority for the MCU, and we should see that by 2023.

Kevin Feige

This obviously won’t happen but in the spirit of Marvel’s next Disney+ series What If…?, what if Loki and Sylvie arrive to the throne room in the castle and Marvel Studios head Kevin Heige is hanging out there wearing one of his trademark baseball caps? As witnessed in WandaVision and now Loki, this phase of Marvel cinematic storytelling is clearly about setting up a new multiverse of possibilities. What better way to introduce that multiverse than by completely breaking the fourth wall?

OK, so there are probably a ton of better ways but Feige would at least be fun and truly unexpected.

The post Marvel’s Loki Episode 5 Ending Explained: Who is the Real Villain of the MCU Series? appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/2Uv1SXs

#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

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middleinthenight21 · 5 years ago

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Damirae week 2020- Day 6

Meet the family

(Teen Titans Go! Vs. Teen Titans)

Raven of different dimensions had given her a look, as if they knew that she was probably the one with the starkest story, or perhaps because she wouldn't think of eating a person with one bite, or because she came from a darker world (for over 13 years old).

It was strange to see herself in different ways, but in her short life she had grown accustomed to changes quickly. Life is full of surprises, but she didn't have that much imagination for this.

"Is there really blood in your world?" The Raven protagonist of this adventure asks, some shudder with fear just thinking about it. "Girl, in my world we break our legs, we adjust them, and we keep running."

No wonder the conflict with her father and the multiverse centered on this version, she seemed childish, uncontrollable and unbalanced, even bloody. She wants to ask questions, for example, did she lock her father in her holy shard or make him disappear, something that sounds like the best and impossible dream, too good to be true.

"There is blood." A wave of horror, wonder, excitement rises; only one remains impartial, it is the one that has a more similar world. "We try to avoid bloodshed. "

One Raven jumps out from the others, her wild hair, fur clothes and did she leave the caverns? God, he was going to need extra time to meditate after this.

"Wait a minute!" The caveman yells at her. Raven raises an eyebrow. "Your voice is softer" She looks at the Raven, as if wanting to explain a point. "All of us have scratchy voices, but this version does NOT. "

What?

"I don't know how to answer that." She pauses. "Should I be worried? "

One makes her way, she is impartial, she had also had a leading role, apart from the ruthless. She is surprised at how young she is, they share a subtle resemblance and she is a preteen, probably between the ages of fourteen or fifteen, her purple hair caresses her shoulders, her skin is pale almost lilac and her eyes are large; this version seems experienced, calmer.

So, she discovers it: this version managed to get rid of Trigon's influence, probably the others knew it just the same because they watched her with admiration, she is the undisputed leader.

"You can ask questions, but not at once."

Wow.

This girl moves next to the ruthless Raven, like an invincible duo "Your world is very different from ours" she senses.

They are probably right; she still doesn't understand why they are so interested in her world and not the cleansed version.

In the middle of these similar eyes she is still a stranger, they are all built from the same past, she felt it. They are all alike, the same, but their world established different rules.

Dick is a few yards away looking resentfully at his miniature version, converses with a taller one and they act alike, they are experienced leaders, but the teenager is still Robin. All the Robins are different, but there is no Nightwing, there is only the Dick Grayson of her universe and she thinks that maybe they were wrong to bring him to this fight.

"Is it true that they don't have a Robin on your team?" One asks.

"We have one" She closes her mouth. Damian would not appreciate that she will reveal information. "He’s not here. "

The more focused Raven raises an eyebrow, is not convinced with the little information she gives and looks apprehensive. Nor is she willing to say more, if there is someone who would understand her versions, it’s herself, they stubborn after all.

Then, a new pink portal opens, it is like a whirlwind and its color reminds you of cotton candy. It spits out a young Robin who is familiar to her, he has some batarang in his hands ready to launch and seems about to shoot down a criminal. He was on a mission with Batman in Gotham; therefore, he was out of the Tower for about two weeks. She did not expect to see him so soon, less in this universe. He comes late.

"Where's Black Mask!? "

He stops looking at the scene, first his brow furrows, his muscles tense and his hand strays to his back. They are like the three steps to hell.

"Who are they? " He draws his sword.

Raven pats her forehead.

"Another! " The little Robin waved his arms excitedly and ran to catch up with Damian. Oh boy, bad move. "You are amazing! "

Damian looked down with a grimace at the Robin, and put the sword away determining that there was no danger.

"What are you?"

"I'm like you, but better."

"No one is better than me," He growled.

He snorted.

Robin continued to circle around Damian, delighted by what he saw, commenting on the suit, his bearing and the sword.

"You use a katana!" He extended one of his small hands, wanting to touch the weapon, which was stored in its holster.

"Your friend is making a mistake," he was warned by the bloodiest Raven.

Damian punched him in the face and knocked him unconscious. She swears that several teeth flew through the air, his face is bruised, and no one seemed concerned; the adolescent version of Dick hid a smirk, concealing it wrong.

The other Titans looked at Damian as if he were some kind of catalyst for what they wanted to do to that Robin. So sad.

Nightwing converses with Damian, his passage from confusion, apprehension to resignation, but she can still feel him as a beacon made of discomfort. He is not used to magic or the concept of multiverse, which Cyborg explained to them. He had not seen the fight.

This whole adventure was too strange, she thought it was weird when a ship crossed the tower without causing damage and they realized that it was transporting similar heroes, they had time to explain the pink portal and get used to the idea of the multiverse, when they were summoned they knew that they were there to fight. She was aware that something was happening because her father had been agitated, banging on the glass and screaming because he wants to break free, seeing a version of her father with two tails had sickened her and she discovered that being swallowed was not cute, she experienced the story of the bloodier Raven and nothing made sense. Then, she faced her versions that demanded that she provide them with information, since she is the most different. Raven had had enough.

Beast Boy at least seems content knowing his versions, also Starfire who smiles when talking to a pink-haired alien.

"Is that Robin version of your universe?"

Raven watches the preteen and nods.

"He not the same as ours," she says. She has a neutral expression, but her raspy voice sounds interested, almost as if she's trying to fit Damian's figure into all of this. "He seems sad" she reflects.

The memory of the first meeting hit her, Raven said the same and her appreciation was not wrong, although Damian would insist that it is not true, she found out. He wasn't going to be happy if he knew they were like that, he can hear the complaints and she found it amusing, if only a little.

"I'll greet him." The merciless Raven floats and she finds herself begging her not to.

Shame stings her insides; her father is teasing her and she stifles his laughter with a growl; She exchanges a look with her more focused version, and they decide to follow the ruthless one.

Nightwing is explaining, grimacing, and nods at the teenage Robin. When that Raven approaches Damian she is deciding whether to shake the teen's hand or not, while Robin stares at the sword, they both turn on their alarms looking at each other, he is about to speak, but was interrupted by a raspy voice and points with her sword at the origin of the sound.

"Damian!" Dick exclaims.

Raven stops a few inches away and they look at each other with their same teenager face. Frightened by the reaction this version would have with a sword pointed at her throat, Damian raises an eyebrow and cocks his head, confused.

He thought that the ruthless Raven would attack him, but she acts in a more surprising way, emitted a shriek of admiration and looked at him as if he were a hero taken from the pages of a history book; her eyes glowed with illusion and she babbles meaningless words.

They both look at her, like she's a stranger.

"Do you also have versions?" Damian asks, looking at the three of them. Putting the sword away in one swift motion, the smallest heroine's mouth opens and she continues to stammer. "Are you sure this alienated version, is you? " He watches her.

She nods.

Teen Raven clears throat "This is one of my other versions."

"It's the Baby Titans," reports Robin. There is a note of mockery in his words, he can conclude that nobody liked the universe of these titans.

"We are the Teen Titans Go!" Yells the Robin baby. He looks much better, although he has a swollen eye painted purple, but his teeth were restored in minutes, and he waves his arms. "We are the best version of the Teen Titans! "

There was a minute of silence, which was broken by a collective laugh.

Damian crossed his arms "This is too strange."

"At least you weren't swallowed."

She frowned, shot him a look, and promised to explain later, not now when her baby version is giggling, and she knows why.

"Then what Nightwing said is true." The hero rolls his eyes. "If I'm honest he thought I was delusional."

The watcher gives him a long look.

"What?"

It's the teenage Raven that draws attention away "do you know why they brought you in? The battle is over and suddenly your appeared" she looks at Robin; The boy looks away with a finger on his chin. "Do you have an idea why? "

Robin glances at the world around him. "I don't know how it works at all, Rae," he admits. "We will have to study this artifact. Either way, this Robin will return to his serious universe."

It's a relief.

She thinks of Jump City, she just wants to go back to their land and keep this memory as one of the strangest in her life.

"I have a mission," Damian says. "you must come back."

"We will," the teenage Raven reassures him. Damian raises an eyebrow at her, probably deciding whether to trust her words. "As soon as we take care of my father. "

Damian is startled.

"Is your father here?" He asks her and she nods, finding the tied demon guarded by the caveman versions, every time he tries to escape Robin hits him with a mallet. It still surprises her to find such a vulnerable version of his demonic father, his voice is softer, and evil is a low flame in this being. "That’s him? "

He is not at all like the one who appeared in the Middle East wanting to end the world.

"Sounds like a joke Trigon."

Trigon watches them and his eyes light up in a red glow, he stretches towards Damian fighting against the rope, wanting to attack the young man and shouts inconsistencies.

"I'll kill you, boy!" He squirms and is only a few yards away.

Caveman versions pull the rope. They have the attention of the titans of the infinite lands, the demon writhes like a worm, launching threats towards the titan.

"You defiled my girl!"

There is a gasp of surprise.

She was having one of those moments when she wanted to hide in the farthest corner of the galaxy where she wouldn't be found just out of shame. She does not know how this version knows about her relationship with Damian, since nobody knows the truth about them, and he likes it that away. She hoped that her father wanted to murder her boyfriend for the simple fact that he will be part of her life, not that he suffered a jealousy attack

"I know you took advantage of her!"

The Raven of this maddened universe screams and points at them "I can't believe it! You guys…"

She and Damian Wayne look at each other in discomfort and swallow hard. Few times have you seen Damian so nervous and if before she wanted to leave now it was much more.

Dick laughs.

"I knew it," he says through tears. Damian stares at his older brother until his laughter fades and he looks away. "I mean, bad that your father-in-law hates you. That sucks. "

Trigon continues to yell threats "I'm going to kill you! Don't touch her again! Raven, leave this boy!" He continues to fight the ropes. "I'll be watching you Robin! Every time you try to get close to my daughter, think that I will find you and…" A pink portal opens and disappears.

She looks at her boyfriend without knowing what to say. This was humiliating.

She gives Robin a grateful look, who had disappeared to her father in another dimension. He is only interested that they got rid of Trigon, even if it's the pathetic version. It is always good to beat him.

The teenager nods but does not comment further.

Raven steps forward "Are you with a Robin? "

She looks at the teenager, who now seems curious, as if this possibility were impossible.

"Yes," Damian answers. They both decide with a look that they would have to sit down and talk later. They know because a two-year relationship has just been revealed and they have to explain. "Bring us back to our land" Robin nods.

***

As Robin informed them, they would leave in a few minutes, Dick was dragged by the Robin baby and Damian is receiving questions from the ruthless Raven, she seems interested in his life and narrates about her dark side. She is surprised that her boyfriend is listening to her and not her cast out.

"I felt you were different," Teen Raven positioned herself next to her. Her gaze is focused on her boyfriend. "You share a bond with him. I can feel it. "

She curls over "How do you know? "

A small smile appears on her lips "I also have a bond with the Robin of my universe. "

She wants to ask her more questions related to her father, how she had found peace and lost the demonic influence in her life. As much as Raven had beaten her father, got help from her friends, the prize for saving the world was to lock Trigon in a glass and fight his influence. Every day she has to contain her emotions, control herself and maintain emotional balance, this version had already been through that hell. It should be nice to feel emotions and feelings freely.

Raven can love, get angry, feel, but to some extent. The relationship with Damian is not honey flakes. Some days his struggles overwhelm her, and she finds herself feeling empty, as if he had no feelings and they must be patient until the storm will pass. Other days he fought against the indoctrination and abuse inflicted by his Grandfather and mother since he was a child, Damian tries to find himself. They try to be better for the other, for themselves and those around them, but it is not easy.

She would like it to be different, that they did not have to deal with Trigon's influence in her life. That the demon did not remind her that they are family and that one of his versions had threatened her boyfriend, as if he were an overprotective father. Trigon was bad in each of his versions.

She observes Raven who is smiling, she wants to reach this level of temperance "Remember that no matter what you went through, Trigon is not your family and you should not define yourself by him" he advises her. "Have hope. "

She smiles. After such a peculiar fight it is good to have a moment of peace.

"Get away from my girl!" Shouts a sharp voice.

Beast Boy stands between Raven and Damian. She is amazed at how small he is, he is like a green pixie and thinks he looks adorable, if not for his squeals she might have thought he is like an adorable child.

"What are you? " Damian spat.

"She's my girl!" He throws a tantrum. "I will fight you for my Rae! "

It is time to intervene.

***

"And Damian, what was it like meeting your girlfriend's family?"

The young one snorts "Shut up, Grayson. "

"Do he really threaten him?"

"You should have been there, Jaime." Garfield stands up. He sticks his arms around his body and sways. "Trigon was tied up, so he saw Damian and went mad, he started shouting at him like this: I'll kill you, boy! " He mimics. "You corrupted my daughter and ... "

A shoe goes straight back into his face and falls to the ground. Damian had thrown the object at him, there is a series of screams and grunts, Kory is laughing, and it all feels very domestic.

Raven's heart feels full. This is her family.

#damirae week #damirae #raven #Damian Wayne #damian x raven #demonbirds #damirae week 2020

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spiteweaver · 5 years ago

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A gathering of the council, in its entirety, had never been so much as attempted. It was generally understood between each of its members that at least one of them was always going to be unavailable, and that their colleagues would simply have to make do without them. After all, their work often took them abroad, or else kept them sequestered in study.

So when all thirty-odd of them showed up, some without needing to be summoned, Dreamweaver didn’t quite know what to do with themself.

“As promised,” Betelgeuse said.

“Excellent work,” Dreamweaver replied numbly, their eyes scanning the crowded table in quick, darting glances. “You may sit.”

Betelgeuse bowed, and claimed his seat between Tau and Isaiah. The uncomfortable murmur that had swept across the assembly while Dreamweaver considered their next words quieted. Someone coughed; another shifted awkwardly.

Dreamweaver began: “By now, I am certain you have all noticed that something is amiss.”

“That’s an understatement,” Isaiah said through a barely-stifled yawn.

“Hush,” Solaire chided.

“I wish that I could offer you more,” Dreamweaver went on, “more than vague assurances, more than theories and hypotheses--but I cannot. Like you, Banrai and I have slept; truth be told, I wonder if we are not sleeping still. All I know for certain is that whatever magic befell us four eons ago spared our coven.”

“Four eons...” Junior slumped in his seat, and his father placed a bracing hand on his shoulder. “I’m glad Telos went into exaltation when she did, because if she’d been here to see this mess, I think she might kill me.”

“It isn’t your fault,” Bellerophon tried to soothe, but couldn’t help but to add a muttered, “this time.”

“Maybe not,” Junior said, “but Zo would have been in Aphaster if not for me.”

“Junior’s right,” Rue agreed with a baleful sigh, “I can only imagine what my mother’s going to do with four eons of pent-up anxiety...”

Betelgeuse looked like he had something to say, something none of them would like. However, he must have decided that now was not the time, because the next moment, his expression was once more impassive. “I understand the gravity of the situation at hand,” he said instead, “but I must ask that you keep your heads until after you’ve been given a proper explanation.”

“You’ve got one then?” Crucis asked, leaning so far forward that Dreamweaver feared he may actually climb onto the table. His eyes were shimmering with insatiable Arcanite curiosity, his fingers drumming an impatient tune. “It’s that, isn’t it?”

“Wh-what?” Dawn stammered.

For the first time in anyone’s memory, Crucis smiled--not just smiled, in fact, but outright grinned. “Well,” he started hastily, not wanting to give his clanmates the chance to stop him, “among scholars, there are a number of theories pertaining to the makeup of the universe, and one such theory posits that our universe is but one of many within a multiverse--”

Isaiah clapped a hand over Crucis’ mouth. “Betelgeuse,” he said, “before he really gets going, in plain Draconic, if it’s not too much trouble--and stop smiling, Crucis, you’re scaring Junior.”

“Philistine,” Crucis grumbled between Isaiah’s fingers.

“In plain draconic,” Betelgeuse continued, “we, or rather you, have been the victims of a time anomaly--a loop, in which time moves neither forward nor back, but repeats the same span endlessly until it is broken.”

“We’d gathered that much,” Priyanka said, and pressed a knuckle to her lips in thought. “What I find strange is not that such magic exists, but that none of our seers, myself included, foresaw such a major catastrophe. This will have had a devastating effect on foreign affairs, not to mention Feldspar’s economy; an event such as this should not have escaped our Sight.”

“That’s the beauty of it,” said Crucis, shoving Isaiah’s hand away, “you didn’t see it, because it’s Other!”

At the head of the table, Dreamweaver paled. There had been an unpleasantness gathering behind their rib cage for some time, and with Crucis’ declaration, it was released, sending jolts of panic racing up their spine. They tried in vain to hold their form, but with each cold shock of fear, their grasp on it slipped the slightest bit more.

Banrai squeezed their hand. “It’s ok, Dreamy,” he murmured, “it’s over.”

“But I--” Dreamweaver blinked the cosmos from their eyes-- “I don’t have any answers. I’m the only Other here, and I--I can’t--”

“It is not a well-understood phenomenon,” Betelgeuse said, “but I believe you have some knowledge of it. You have heard your people speak of it in fearful whispers, as a rumor, a bedtime story to frighten hatchlings.”

Dreamweaver searched the furthest reaches of their memory, but it was a long one, complicated, and some of it was not strictly their own. Separating themself from the dreams of their people seemed an insurmountable task in that brief moment, perhaps because they had spent four eons tending them.

They saw themself standing in a crowded square as Banrai, so young and naive it made them quake, begged them for so much as a look, a smile, a single word. In a few short weeks, he would beg again, this time for their hand, but they would tell him that they were as the moon, fleeting and distant.

“Then if I capture the moon, will you marry me?” he would reply, and they would be his.

They saw Feldspar in its infancy, the skeletons of buildings jutting out of the fog like the teeth of some great beast. Winter was little more than a hatchling, clinging forlornly to their robes. He had been so terribly fragile then. So had they.

They saw everything, all of the many eons they had spent beneath their Patron’s banner--a part of dragonkind, and yet always somehow separate. Their clan grew, and spread, and lived, and loved. The ocean came for them, and then the nightmare. Sirius fell to earth in a shower of stars. Telos cloaked herself in fuchsia light.

Then they saw a mane of wild raspberry hair.

Dreamweaver caught Betelgeuse’s gaze. They knew his answer before they asked: “You believe the tales?”

“Yes,” Betelgeuse replied, “I do.”

“What tales?” Lestat demanded. “You’re both so awfully cryptic; it drives me mad!”

“You’re already mad,” Mímir jeered.

“You’ve heard them too,” Silhouette said, so softly that they almost went unheard. The council turned as one to face them, seeking answers from the swirling forms within their shroud. “We all have, sometime or another. Dragons whose minds have flown, entire clans locked in a single moment, some that have disappeared altogether, vanished without a trace.”

Henrie pressed his hands over his trembling lips. “You mean--” He looked to the others for reassurance, but found only wide-eyed disbelief-- “dead lairs?” he concluded in a choked whisper.

“I don’t feel dead,” Myrtle mused, and patted himself for good measure.

“It isn’t a literal death,” Betelgeuse explained, “but, in a sense, a living death. Dead lairs do not grow, or change, and they cannot be influenced by the world beyond their borders. It is thought that they are the result of their Patron abandoning them.”

“The Lightweaver would never!” Solaire cried.

“Not the Lightweaver,” Betelgeuse said, “something else, something far older than the Eleven. The gods answer to Them, or so it is said.”

“The gods answer to no one,” Phobos insisted.

“That is only what is said,” Betelgeuse reiterated, “perhaps not what is. Whatever the cause of the phenomenon, Feldspar was subject to it--and now it is not. We have nothing more to fear.”

“Except that it may happen again,” Caesar piped up, then immediately fell quiet when he saw the looks of abject terror on his colleagues’ faces.

Crucis started to speak, but Isaiah wrestled him back into silence. “Whatever you’re about to say,” he growled, “it’s nothing good, so keep your loud mouth shut.”

“Dead lairs rarely remain dead,” Betelgeuse reassured. “I pray that you do not sleep again, but if you should, it will not be forever--and the coven will guard you with our lives.”

“Oh,” Caesar squeaked, eyelids fluttering, “oh my.”

“However,” Betelgeuse was quick to add, “I do not feel it shall be necessary.”

The council exchanged a flurry of uncertain glances and even less certain chatter. Betelgeuse was seldom wrong about such things, and he was the only one of them present who had not spent nearly half a cycle sleeping. If they could not trust his word, there was no one’s they could.

At least, that was what Dreamweaver hoped they were saying to one another, with heads together and voices low. Grief was not unwarranted, but it was unproductive--and they could not afford to be unproductive at such a delicate juncture. Already, Dreamweaver was beginning to feel restless; this meeting had worn on too long.

“If there is nothing further to discuss,” they cut in, “I suggest we get to work.”

“What about the Dominions?” Juneau asked. “He may not have been able to influence me, but I doubt Penitence would have left my side while I slept for anything less than the end of the world.”

“Yes,” Tau agreed, “Copernicus as well.”

“Ah--” Betelgeuse sighed-- “I had hoped you would not ask.”

Dreamweaver sagged, the stars in their hair winking out one by one. There was not a face at the table they wished to see then, and so they dropped their head into their hands, to find reprieve in darkness. “They haven’t woken,” they said, “have they?”

“What do you...?” Junior’s chair toppled back as he staggered out of it, and blindness did not protect Dreamweaver from his anguish. It oozed into every word, every syllable one closer to a sob. “No,” he gasped, “not them too. I c--I can--” Abaddon stood, and Junior all but collapsed against him-- “I can’t do this again. I can’t lose them again.”

“You won’t,” Abaddon said, “you haven’t.”

“I have been in contact with those among them who, like myself, were unaffected,” Betelgeuse interjected, “and we are all in agreement that someday, hopefully within the next cycle, our allies will wake as well.”

“The next cycle?” Tau clenched his fists, so tightly that the skin drew thin and white, and joined Junior on his feet. “My mate is there. You can’t expect us to sit idly by while our families lie vulnerable beneath some deific spell.”

“There is nothing more to be done,” Betelgeuse replied simply.

No one spoke. Amun, a Dragonhome Ridgeback who had spent scarcely an eon with the clan before its slumber, placed a hand on Tau’s shoulder, guiding him gingerly back into his seat.

“I should have been with him,” Tau mumbled. “Why wasn’t I with him?”

“Mother,” Rue said, the rare hitch in her breath causing even Betelgeuse a strange discomfort, “and my siblings--it doesn’t seem possible.”

“My brother as well,” Yọmí added as his head sank miserably into his hands. “I saw him only yesterday it seems. At least...perhaps Rántí will have been spared...”

“What am I going to tell Zo?” Junior moaned. “What am I going to tell Sirius?”

At last, Dreamweaver rose, and clasped their hands in front of them in the way their people had seen them do so many times before. “If you need time to collect yourselves,” they said, “you shall have it. Once you have done so, return to me, and receive your orders.”

The congregation trickled out slowly. Those with loved ones in Aphaster lingered together; they touched one another as if each of them might break, their fingers whispering hoarsely over skin and fabric. It would be they who told Atsushi, and Xerxes, and Asura, and all the many others who would soon wake to find their families beyond their reach.

From their place at the head of the meeting table, Dreamweaver watched.

“Betelgeuse,” they said.

Betelgeuse gave another bow. “Your Majesty.”

“I want the coven working on this ‘round the clock,” they commanded. “If magic can be done, it can be undone--even that which is divine. Meet with Faded; I am certain they will have some insight.”

#flight rising #fr #zach writes #clan feldspar #feldspar lore #c: dreamweaver #c: banrai #c: everyone else i guess

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senboago · 5 years ago

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THE MEGA RP PLOTTING SHEET / MEME.

First and foremost, recall that no one is perfect, we all have witnessed some plotting once which did not went too well, be it because of us or our partner. So here have this, which may help for future plotting. It’s a lot! Yes, but perhaps give your partners some insight? Anyway BOLD what fully applies, italicize if only somewhat.

Mun Name: Abby / Kitty Age: 24 Contact: pm, discord

Character(s) I rp: (canon) Candice Catnipp, Haineko, Mizuiro Kojima, Retsu Unohana, Yachiru Kusajishi; and them I have about 8 ocs. Which muse(s) inspires you the most atm?(for MM): Elsabeth, Naomi, & Haineko. Current Fandom(s): Bleach (and one One Piece oc) Fandom(s) you have an AU for: Bleach (Mizuiro’s shinigami au) My language(s): English (natively), Japanese (elementary level) Themes I’m interested in for rp: Fantasy / Science fiction / Horror / Western / Romance / Thriller / Mystery / Dystopia / Adventure / Modern / Erotic / Crime / Mythology / Classic / History / Renaissance / Medieval / Ancient / War / Family / Politics / Religion / School / Adulthood / Childhood / Apocalyptic / Gods / Sport / Music / Science / Fights / Angst / Smut / Drama / etc. Themes/Genres you have an AU for: history, mythology

Preferred Thread length: one-liner / 1 para / 2 para / 3+ / novella. Asks can be send by: Mutuals / Non-Mutuals / Personals / Anons. Can Asks be continued?: YES / NO only by Mutuals?: YES / NO. Preferred thread type: crack / casual nothing too deep / serious / deep as heck. Is realism / research important for you in certain themes?: YES / NO. Are you atm open for new plots?: YES / NO / DEPENDS. Do you handle your draft / ask - count well?: YES / NO / SOMEWHAT. How long do you usually take to reply?: 24h / 1 week / 2 weeks / 3+ / months / years. I’m okay with interacting: original characters / a relative of my character (an oc) / duplicates / my fandom / crossovers / multi-muses / self-inserts / people with no AU verse for my fandom / canon-divergent portrayals / au-versions (as main or only verse). Do you post more ic or occ?: IC / OOC. Are you selective with following others?: YES / NO / DEPENDS.

Best ways to approach you for rp/plotting: Pms, mostly. If you have me on discord, even better. I have both apps on my phone too, so I’m usually good about replies; granted if I’m not busy, left my phone somewhere in the house, or am asleep.

What expectations do you hold towards your plotting partner: Well, I tend to be the type that actually fails at coming up with plot ideas. It’s not that I don’t think of anything, but that I’m either too shy or my brain is too exhausted of ideas. So I guess just enthusiasm works for me, since it gives all the same energy! Especially when talking about ships (including platonic and hate ships) between our muses ‘cause that usually helps lead into some potential plots, as I’ll always be up for discussing new stuff for them; like how we want to develop them, where will they go, when will they get there, etc.

When you notice the plotting is rather one-sided, what do you do?: I’m a bit of too quiet to say anything really, kinda like a pushover. But if I can gain the confidence, I’d prefer to ask what’s going from my partner’s end. If it turns out they’re really not interested then, and I hate to do it, we’ll just drop it. I want us both to be having fun, and if they’re not into it, then it’d be too selfish of me to try and continue it.

How do you usually plot with others, do you give input or leave most work towards your partner?: Again, I’m pretty terrible at it, so I’m usually a go with the flow type person. So unfortunately, that leaves most the plotting to them, unless my brain decides to wake up. But when I do have an idea and have the courage to, I’ll pitch it to them. Usually my plots end up starting out as some random headcannon between our muses and their ship, and then it falls into the fascination of ‘I wanna rp that now’, just to see it have a story.

When a partner drops the thread, do you wish to know?: YES / NO / DEPENDS. - And why?: I get anxious easily. So whether or not I was really into it, it’s nice to know, and easier on my nerves if it was something I was really into. However, it’s not entirely and outright demand that they do all the time. - What should your partner do when dropping a thread?: Not required, just preferred that they just let me know.

What could possibly lead you to drop a thread?: Two things. Disinterest is one, and pretty self-explanatory. Then there’s if I just lack the energy for a certain amount of time, after several attempts to actually reply. I usually hate to drop threads. But if I feel there’s absolutely no way I’ll be able to reply, then I’ll either pm my partner directly or make out a post and tag those I’ve dropped threads with, if it’s multiple. - Will you tell your partner?: YES / NO / DEPENDS.

Is communication in the rpc important to you? YES / NO. - And why?: Even though I’m terrible of communication, I still like to hear from my partners every once and a while. It’s kinda why discord is easier to get a hold of me ‘cause, since I have two servers there I mod/admin, I usually check it and will answer there more often. - Are you okay with absolute honesty, even if it may means hearing something negative about you and/or portrayal?: I wanna say yes, but there’s that anxiety in me that says no. It’s a hit or miss with me. I usually try not to get defensive, and most the time won’t. It’ll just end up making become a bit more cautious, confused, or reclused, depending on what it is; and that’s all ‘cause of anxiety. - Do you think you can handle such situation in a mature way? YES / NO.

Why do you rp again, is there a goal?: Mostly to have fun. Also so I can explore my muses and work on my creative writing. When people like what I post too, it makes me extremely happy and excited, wanting to pour out more! So really, not much of a goal other than just share my thought process and ideas.

Wishlist, be it plots or scenarios: To roleplay and post more stuff for Mizuiro. And to build more relationships of all kinds for my muses, especially my ocs. I’d also like to explore darker themes for a few muses as well, though that’s a bit of a tall order... Not too people can handle or are willing to deep dive, so I’m not sure if that’ll happen really.

Themes I won’t ever rp / explore: I don’t really have any hard limits. However, I usually refrain from a lot simply for the comfort of others. So I guess there’s quite a bit I won’t ever get into, though I’d like to.

What Type of Starters do you prefer / dislike, can’t work with?: i’m usually good with just about anything. If I’m not, then I’ll inform my partner.

What type of characters catch your interest the most?: Better question is; what type am I not into? Though truthfully, I’m really into characters with a lot of development, an establish backstory of any kind, and just about any that can capture my heart (which isn’t hard to do btw). I’m not picky and I have very few I truly hate, except for their person rather than the character.

What type of characters catch your interest the least?: Flat, one-dimensional types with very little development or their own story. I like seeing the ins and outs, the positives and negatives of a character. I want them to put me on a roller coaster of emotions, since that’s life in a nutshell. If they can’t, then I’ll lose interest quickly. Also mary sues/gary stues. Characters that just don’t make sense or follow the universe’s logic are also a major turn off.

What are your strong aspects as rp partner?: Oh boy... I guess my dedication and love for my muses’ ships. It’s not much, but only thing I can think of. I also try to keep an open mind, be as understanding as possible and to support my partner wherever I can.

What are your weak aspects as rp partner?: My inability to reply to drafts that have been sitting for a couple of weeks. I want to reply, and yet, as soon as I open the draft and get to work, my brain blanks. It’s really frustrating.

Do you rp smut?: YES / NO. Do you prefer to go into detail?: YES / NO / DEPENDS. Are you okay with black curtain?: YES / NO. - When do you rp smut? More out of fun or character development?: Just about whenever, as long as partner is up for it. And it’ll be for either or, depending. For certain ships, such as Kaede and Kenpachi, I feel it is part of their character and relationship development, seeing as they’ve managed to grow a deeper bond with each other through it. For other muses, such as almost anything with Amaterasu, it’s usually out of fun. - Anything you would not want to rp there?: Eh... not really, unless partner is uncomfortable with it.

Are ships important to you?: YES / NO. Would you say your blog is ship-focused?: YES / NO. Do you use read more?: YES / NO / SOMETIMES. Are you: Multi-Ship / Single-Ship / Dual-Ship — Multiverse / Singleverse. - What do you love to explore the most in your ships?: The growth between them. Just literally anything between that. Watching the couple’s bond deepen, how much they learn about each other, and the trust that strengthens over time. - What is your smut tag?: nsfw mention

Are you okay with pre-established relationships?: YES / NO. - And what kind of ones?: Just about any; romantic, sexual, platonic, hate, family, etc.

► SECTION ABOUT YOUR MUSE.

- What could possibly make your Muse interesting towards others, why should they rp with this particular character of yours now, what possible plots do they offer?: Usually that’s up to the other’s interpretation of the character. But Kaede has some potential, developing surprising friendship despite her division’s reputation. She’s bit of an opposite from her captain and co-lieutenant, probably being the most patient and kindest of the three, as she’s the only one to pursue any friendships. I would say I’d love to find more plots in reference to her backstory, whether some random character she befriends or is enemies with finds out her birth, or she feels to rekindle a past friendship.

- With what type of Muses do you usually struggle to rp with?: ... I dunno if I really have an answer for that. Kaede’s one of my easiest going muses, unafraid to interact with anyone. She tends to fit in just about anywhere. Though I’m sure this partly due to her being my most developed and being well established. - With what type of Muses do they usually work well with?: Honestly, I think just about anyone, depending on the scenerio and who they are. That also determines how she approaches and interacts with them.

- What interests your Muse(s) in general: There’s a list of things. Gardening, social gatherings, her division... She’s also into new experiences, things that are foreign to the Soul Society. - What do they desire, is their goal?: She simply wants to make her mother proud, to better society if she can, and continue to aid and serve her division. - What catches their interest first when meeting someone new?: Body language. It’s a trained type of thing, trying to read them by how they hold themselves. How approachable they appear, their intent, etc. - What do they value in a person?: Depends, as she understands everyone is different. But mostly their determination, honesty, and dedication, even if she’s not the receiver. She can still respect them for it. - What themes do they like talking about?: Eh... Just about anything, aside from herself. Anything gardening or about flowers is where she’s the most enthusiastic. - Which themes bore them?: Idle chitchat or small talk. She likes to carry an actual conversation. So trying to ask her about the weather, she’ll more than likely walk away.

- Did they ever went through something traumatic?: Sort of? There’s a couple things; the discovery of Azashiro’s imprisonment and his crimes, the sudden disappearance of Yoruichi and Kisuke, and the brief encounter with Yhwach’s clone during the war. - What could possibly trigger them?: Both Azashiro’s imprisonment and Yoruichi and Kisuke’s exile have been resolved, so no. Though to ask her about Azashiro, she’ll be guarded and, depending on the person, defensive. The incident with Yhwach was a literal flash, leaving her physically scarred, but otherwise unfazed. - What could set them off, enrage them?: Azashiro, yes. Depending on who the person is, obviously. Kisuke is the most notable target of this rage. - What could lead to an instant kill?: Again, Azashiro, depending on who brings it up and what’s brought up. Mostly, if it targets her mother and threatens to expose them, including her adopted father.

- Is there someone /-thing they hate?: Yhwach and Aizen. Both have caused a degree of grief in the Soul Society, and even for those outside it. She also hates those that use their position of power for selfish reasons. - Is there someone /-thing they love?: Her mother and adopted father, and the Shiba clan as a whole. Her division, and her current captain and co-lieutenant, along with her former captain and her brother Yuushirou. She also loves, though won’t admit it often enough, Askin (verse dependent). Kenpachi as well (verse dependent). Any and all her friends, including Kisuke. There’s also a huge soft spot for animals of any kind.

Is your Muse easy to approach?: YES / NO. - Best ways to approach them?: As long as you’re not a sworn enemy to her or the society, just about anyone’s good to go. Just strike up conversation, ask for a spar, to drink, etc. She isn’t one to simply ignore or dismiss anyone, so long as there isn’t any bad terms between them. - Where are they usually to find?: In the second division offices or training grounds (sometimes in the onsen), at her home, or strolling or patrolling through the Seireitei.

Something you may still want to point out about your muse?: Eh... nothing I can think of off the top of my head. Except that, no matter how kind a face she has, she can still be a merciless killer.

CONGRATS!!! You managed it, now tag your mutuals! ♥

Tagged by: @skyvar (thanks for the tag, though not sure if I should really be thanking you ‘cause this about drained me!) Tagging: you reading this.

#;whispers and rambles [ ooc ]#;a maple leaf in autumn [ kaede shiba ]

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rebellingstagnationblog · 5 years ago

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2019 Geronimo Christmas Fics

That’s right, we’re doing it again! 25 new Geronimo fics published December 1-25.

The title? “That’s Christmas to Me”

The playlist? All Pentatonix songs

The theme? Well, why don’t you see for yourself? Here’s a first look at day 1

God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen

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This world was dark, even for her tastes.

Physically, that was.

She could not yet speak for the metaphorical; she had only just arrived, after all, and rumors were nothing to base one’s perceptions on.

Searchlights were the primary source of light, their long beams stretching up into the dark sky, making a long sweep from one end of the metropolis to the other. If there was a moon or stars, she couldn’t tell. The searchlights were too bright to allow anything in the vast vacuum of space to shine down onto the world below.

Her boots crunched on the newly fallen snow, a satisfying snap snap snap as she made her way down the street. There was no question as to the direction she was headed. The building in the center of town was the one to which the searchlights were fixed, giving off its position with all the finesse of a disco ball.

Darkwarrior Duck might be the most fearsome of all the Darkwings in the multiverse, but he still had the same ego. The same lack of sense when it came to anything involving stealth or sophistication.

At least there was order here. Her simmering irritation was soothed at seeing how precisely the citizens moved about. Crossed the street at crosswalks. Cars merged with clear signals for at least 300 feet before changing lanes. Everyone stuck to their side of the sidewalk, eyes forward without any sort of technology out to distract them.

It was because of this — this enforcement of rules and regulations — that she was walking down this sidewalk to begin with.

She crossed the street with a few citizens and continued marching toward the building that set her teeth on edge. On her own. No one else was heading anywhere close to this part of town.

Dark ebony robots, the shapes of which resembled Darkwarrior’s head with claws extending out below their beaks hovered before her. What a terrible design. Their only option for movement was strictly airborn since they had no legs. And it seemed rather arrogant to shape something after one's own features.

Then again.

Look at their designer.

“Identification, please,” came the modulated voice. Weak and wavering compared to those in her own world.

She stared unblinkingly at the robot. “Ana Di Lengo.”

The robot hovered, bobbing up and down gently, completely silent for a few moments. “Error. Death records exist for one Ana Di Lengo. Identification, please.”

She sent the bot — and whoever was watching through it's cameras — a thin smile. “Death records exist for the Ana in this universe perhaps. I, however, am not from here.”

The robot fell into silence again. And moved aside as the door behind it swung open.

Complete blackness yawned before her, the building imposing and endless. She stepped through without a moments hesitation.

It was all for show, this grandiose structure. The security out front meant to intimidate the visitor and give them some idea of who they were about to deal with.

But Ana was not intimidated.

The blackness inside was not so complete that she couldn't see where she was going. The lobby was empty, a colossal curved staircase curling upwards that took her to the second level. Into a rounded antechamber, which also was empty.

The walls were fitted with large panels of glass, windows revealing the sprawling city around them. Pale snow blanketed the streets and buildings, dulling the lights that tried their best to illuminate the darkness. In the center of this rounded chamber was a circular platform, along one side of which were stacked rows of computer monitors like bricks in the facade of a building. They showed the city from different angles, some stationary shots evidently from fixed cameras and others moving, likely from robots on patrol, sending back their feed.

Within this half-circle of monitors sat one solitary chair. Padded. With low arms and a wide back. Almost wide enough to obscure the figure that was sitting in it. Almost.

The room was not so empty after all.

The chair was facing away from her. But she didn't need to see his face to know who was lying in wait.

“You're very far from home,” came a purr out of the darkness.

Ana came to stand at the edge of the platform, hands tucked behind her back and head held high. “Turn around and face me, Drake. Where are your manners?”

The figure stiffened either at her tone or at the casual name she called him. Whichever the reason, Ana felt her beak twist into a triumphant smirk.

She allowed it to fall as the chair swiveled around. No need to show off.

Within the plush upholstery sat a familiar figure. Wearing the ridiculous purple outfit with a large brimmed fedora in a matching shade. He had foregone the button down suit and substituted it with something akin to a jumpsuit that was belted at the hips. Military grade boots — steel toed by the looks of them — would have blended into the darkness if they hadn't been polished to a shine. The infantile cape was secured around his shoulders, tucked underneath sizable spiked shoulder armor, making him all the more imposing and broad.

There was still a mask secured around his face, but his eyes glowed red. It was into these that Ana stared, unabashed and unafraid.

As Darkwarrior Duck sized her up.

She in her own black uniform. Much crisper and more impressive than his spiked armor. Drake was many things; subtle was not one of them, no matter the universe.

“Are we going to discuss why you're here? Or is this a staring contest?” he asked, his voice carefully controlled and giving away nothing. She was almost impressed. Almost.

“Don’t joke with me, boy,” Ana snapped. “You can guess why I'm here, surely.”

Darkwarrior leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled in his militaristic gloves. “It must be something big if the great Ana Di Lengo traveled all the way from the Posiverse to visit me.”

“Oh, yes, bravo,” Ana intoned, glaring at Darkwarrior down her beak. “Come, come, Drake. If we are to be allies, I must be able to trust that you can put two and two together on your own.”

He frowned. “My name is Darkwarrior.”

Ana narrowed her eyes a fraction. “Not to me.”

Darkwarrior eyed her.

She let the silence linger.

Silence is a funny thing. Everyone is quick to break it. It makes people uncomfortable, you see. The lack of noise makes them believe they need to be filling the void with something. If you stay quiet long enough, your counterpart will inevitably start talking.

“Allies, you and I?” Darkwarrior asked. “Against whom?”

Case in point.

Silence: a leader’s most effective tool.

“Against the monstrosity that is Gosalyn Mallard Prime.” Saying the name was like a bad taste on her tongue. Gosalyn Mallard had come into Ana’s world to be put on trial and punished for her rash actions of traveling around the multiverse. She had not only escaped her lifelong sentence, but had incentivized the people of Ana’s world — the Posiverse — to uprise and fight against the rules that had been put in place to protect them. Even Ana’s second in command, her own son, had gone against her and joined ranks with the Gosalyn from their own world.

Gosalyn Mallard Prime had ruined everything.

And Ana would show that girl the justice that was in the wake of such haphazard and reckless rule breaking.

Ana took a breath.

Patience.

All in good time.

Darkwarrior raised an eyebrow, still peering over his steepled fingers. “She has a big support system. To go against her is to go against them all.”

“Hence why I am here.”

Smirking, Darkwarrior leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You need me.”

“And your robots. When going up against repeat rule breakers, it's best to come prepared with the full force of the law.”

Darkwarrior Duck was grinning fully now, a cunning curl of his beak.

Another voice, however, came from the darkness. A slighter sound, weaker. “We can offer our full forces.”

Ana glanced to where the voice had come from and felt her fingers twitch at the sight, ready to grab a weapon. But she stayed her hand.

It was another Gosalyn. This one brown haired and softer. More reserved. She seemed to have some semblance of rules and etiquette, her hands hanging at her sides and her expression one of respect as she surveyed Ana with her green eyes.

Ana pushed aside her confusion — the entire point of the Darkwarrior universe was that a Gosalyn didn’t exist, after all, so how one could be here was mind numbing — and inclined her head. “Together, I am confident that we can accomplish our goal.”

“No violence,” this brown-haired Gosalyn said as she stepped fully out of the shadows and stood beside Darkwarrior.

Ana studied them together, the dark uncompromising version of her son and this girl who shouldn’t exist. Really, neither of them should exist. This universe was a blight on an otherwise perfect system.

But, desperate times.

Ana bowed her head. “No violence,” she echoed.

The brown haired Gosalyn nodded. “Then we will help you bring order to the Prime Universe.”

Ana sent a thin smile to the girl. “Might I ask who you are?”

“Christine.”

Still a Gosalyn, but going by a different name. Interesting. Ana would need to study her records to find out where this one had come from, for it surely wasn’t here. Could not be here.

“You have a bright future ahead of you, my dear.” Ana looked between the two. “Shall we settle on a date?”

Darkwarrior finally stood, gesturing off to the side. “We can use my consulting room.”

“There’s less potential of being overheard in there,” Christine offered, a smile gracing her beak as she led the way.

Ana nodded once in agreement before following the impossible girl.

P.S. Since I’m not taking requests for stories/songs this year for the main story, I will happily take holiday related requests from people if they’re interested. DM me so we can talk more!

#darkwing duck #fanfiction #geronimo series #25 days of christmas

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