#「 ❝ soar through the sky ❞ ( crossover. ) 」

[raaorqtpbpdy]

Made of Meat

Danny Phantom/DC (Animal Man) crossover (thank you @stealingyourbones for the prompt)

When strange, faintly glowing meat creatures start rampaging through the streets of San Diego, there's only one man to call. And when Animal Man could use a helping hand, Phantom swoops in to assist. Or, Danny Phantom and Animal Man team up to fight the Lunch Lady

Read it on AO3

[Warnings for minor violence, mentions of vomit, and repeated mentions/descriptions of raw meat]

When strange, faintly glowing meat creatures started rampaging through the streets of San Diego, there was only one man to call. 

Absorbing the power of flight from a hawk overhead, Buddy Baker, A.K.A. Animal Man soared toward downtown to confront the monsters wreaking havoc on the innocent civilians of his city, his blond hair fluttering in the wind.

By the time he arrived, the chaos was well underway. Just like the reports had claimed, several unidentified creatures were causing the brunt of the damage, each of them about four feet tall and composed entirely of raw meat, still dripping with blood and already attracting flies, with glowing red eyes and fleshy teeth. Animal Man could see pools of vomit on the sidewalks from people who had evidently been too disgusted by the creatures to hold down their lunches, but he'd seen far worse himself and wasn't bothered by the creatures' grotesque appearance.

He swooped down to snatch a little girl out of the way of one of the things and take her to the nearest screaming woman—her mother, just as he had guessed—and urged them to run. There weren't as many people downtown as Buddy would have normally expected to see at this time, probably most of them already had already run away, but a few stragglers still remained, most of them filming the incident on their phones, some hiding, none of them in immediate danger.

With his bird's eye view, Animal Man had spotted a peculiar woman in the center of the commotion. She looked confused and sickly, with greenish skin. It wasn't her appearance that bothered him, though. Something about her felt off, and it unsettled the hero in a way he couldn't quite put into words. Using the sharp ears of a bat from the nearby zoo, he could hear her even from high in the sky, demanding to know where she was and what was for lunch.

Whoever she was, Buddy was pretty sure she was the woman in charge, and these meat gremlins were her doing. If he could knock her out, or better yet, peacefully convince her to stop, her creatures would stop too.

With the strength of a charging rhino, Animal Man plowed through her meaty minions with little trouble and slammed his whole body into her, sending her flying a few feet to land sprawled on the ground. He rushed forward to pin her so she couldn't get away, and it was then that he began to realize what was so off about her.

Her skin was cold and green, her eyes glowed red, and her clothes were about forty years out of date. But even more strange that that, he didn't feel any connection to her through the Red. The Red connected all animal life, from the tiniest single-celled organism, to the biggest blue whale, and humans were included in that. Through the Red, Animal Man could absorb the powers of any living creature. 

Not this woman, though.

She looked human, and acted human... but she wasn't human.

Animal man dug deeper, trying to feel out a connection to the Green, or the Rot. It was harder for him to sense them, but all three elements were connected, and they encompassed all living things, even after death.

Except for this mysterious woman.

She wasn't fauna, or flora, or decay. And now that he was feeling through the Red, he realized that her constructs weren't connected to it either, even though they looked like they could have crawled right out of it moments before they showed up here. Buddy didn't know how that was possible, but right now, what she was didn't matter half as much as stopping her.

"I don't want to hurt you anymore," he said firmly, "but you have to stop what you're doing, or I'll be forced to. I can't let you keep attacking innocent people with your creatures. It has to stop." 

The woman scowled and stood up, her body passing right through Animal Man like he was made of air, and a chill ran down his spine and he shuddered as he fell a few inches onto the asphalt below.

"What the...?" He tried to grab her again, but he couldn't even touch her. His hands passed right through her, like he was trying to catch smoke.

"You think you can stop me?!" the woman demanded, her hair standing up and writhing like snakes on her head. The meat monsters turned as one and began to converge on Animal Man. "Today's menu is doom, and now, it's lunchtime!"

"It's four-thirty!"

Animal Man snapped his head up toward the sound of the new voice, and saw a teenager flying into view. He wore a black and white jumpsuit, had white hair, and the green glow of his eyes was visible even from a distance. The teen rocketed down and slammed his fists right into the strange woman's face, sending her skidding backwards.

"You!" she hissed, her eyes widening and pulsing red—it was terrifying in person, but Buddy couldn't help the thought that it was reminiscent of a really angry Loony Tunes character.

Immediately, her creatures turned their attention away from Animal Man, and toward the newcomer. Evidently, she and him had a history. And she'd determined that the kid was a higher priority than Buddy was.

"That's right, Lunch Lady, it's me again," the kid said, grabbing a thermos that was hanging off his belt. "And I'm here to tell you that the only thing on the menu for you today is soup!"

Whatever he planned to do with that thermos, he didn't get the chance, as one of the meat gremlins morphed its arm into a long whip and knocked it away from him.

"Ew!" the kid said, dropping a few feet to punch the nearest creature and then dry-heaving for a second. "Are these things raw? Why—eugh!" he cut himself off with a shudder as another one got close and he had to punch it. Clearly the creatures were not his bag.

"Hey kid!" Animal Man shouted, ready to offer his help.

"It's Phantom," the kid shouted back. "Wait, who're you?"

"Animal Man," he replied. "I'll keep the meat things occupied if you can deal with her."

"You sure, dude?" Phantom flew back out of the meat things' reach with a grimace, and dodged the sprays of blood they spewed up after him looking almost as green as the Lunch Lady. "These things are pretty gross. Way grosser than the last time I fought 'em."

"I've handled grosser than them," Buddy assured. "They're not a problem—but I can't fight someone I can't touch."

Phantom turned slightly to look at the Lunch Lady, who was laughing triumphantly, and got splashed in the back of the head by one of the meat creatures still bombarding him. He yelped in disgust, and Buddy pressed his lips together to keep from laughing.

"Alright, deal!" Phantom agreed, wiping the back of his head with a gloved hand. "I'll leave 'em to you, just don't let them merge with each other, or her, they become a much bigger problem that way."

"Got it!" 

Animal Man summoned up some elephant strength, leopard agility and the reflexes of a fly and ran at the creatures. The force of his punches caused them to burst apart instantly, and in the time it took one to reform itself, he could take down three more.

Meanwhile, Phantom shot upward, firing a green beam at the Lunch Lady. His head turned frantically, like he was looking for something, but he didn't seem to find it. The Lunch Lady screamed as he dive-bombed her again, this time sending her through a wall—the wall itself undamaged. She came back through it moments later, back on her feet and angrier than ever. 

As much as he wanted to keep an eye on the kid to make sure he didn't get hurt, Buddy still had to focus on his own fight. Phantom was clearly familiar with this enemy, had apparently fought her before, and he seemed like he could handle himself. None of that stopped Buddy from worrying. None of his worrying changed the fact that he had a job to do.

In his moment of distraction, one of the creatures slammed into the side of Animal Man's knee, knocking him down. He used his elephant strength to throw it off and watched it splatter into a bloody, fleshy mass against a concrete wall. 

As he rolled over to get back on his feet and resume the fight, he saw the thermos Phantom had dropped. It had rolled out of sight under the bus stop bench. That must've been what the kid was looking for! Although Animal Man had no idea what Phantom could need it for, he darted forward like a cheetah on all fours and snatched the thermos up.

"Hey Phantom!" he shouted, jumping to his feet and kicking another creature into pieces. "You need this, right?"

Phantom turned, and grinned widely when he saw what his new ally was holding. Animal Man threw it up to him and he caught it easily and uncapped it right away, aiming it at the Lunch Lady.

Animal Man punched out another meat gremlin as a blue light shone from inside the thermos, and the Lunch Lady screamed and shouted in protest as she was sucked inside. As soon as the cap was back on the thermos, the remaining creatures collapsed into piles of raw meat, covered in rocks and dirt and buzzing flies. How this mess would get cleaned up was anyone's guess.

Fight ended, Phantom flew down to where Animal Man was standing, surrounded by a ring of red meat and plucked poultry, but did not touch down on the ground. A strategic choice, although it was a bit too late for the other hero to do the same.

"Eugh, I smell like a butcher shop and I have entrails in my hair," Animal Man commented, sniffing his sleeve with a grimace. "My wife isn't gonna so much as wave hello until I take a shower, and it's gonna be hell getting the stench outta my suit."

"Oh, uh... here." 

Phantom put his hand on Buddy's shoulder, and a cold empty sensation wracked his body for a few seconds. All the gross chunks and fluids dropped to the ground, falling through him like he was made of air, just like the Lunch Lady had moved through him earlier. When Phantom took his hand away, Buddy was clean. Even the smell didn't seem to be coming from him anymore, although it still definitely surrounded him.

"Wow, thanks," Buddy said, marveling at the distinct lack of red stains on his white gloves which had been absolutely soaked in it a moment before. "That trick must come in pretty useful for you."

"Yeah, well, it's the least I could do after you helped me out," Phantom said. His shoulders hunched and he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "It was all my fault the Lunch Lady attacked in the first place. I was stupid and forgot to make sure the thermos was empty before I left Amity Park."

"Hey, you're not stupid; don't say that. Everyone makes mistakes, what's important is that you were able to fix it," Animal Man argued. 

Phantom smiled gratefully, and it wasn't until he took his hand away from his neck that he seemed to remember the splatter of blood and juices he'd gotten from one of the creatures and he wrinkled his nose at the red stain on his own glove. He hardly seemed to think about it as he turned himself intangible like he had to Buddy before and let the viscera fall to the sidewalk with a splat.

"So... what was she anyway?" Buddy asked, doing his best to keep a straight face. "The Lunch Lady I mean. She definitely wasn't human, I could tell that much."

"Oh, she was a ghost," Phantom replied. "I'm a ghost, too, but I'm a good guy, I swear. Sorry, I forget not a lot of people have seen ghosts outside of Amity Park. They're super common where I come from."

"A ghost, huh?"

Animal Man considered that. It would make sense. A ghost was dead, but not decaying, not made of flesh or vegetation. Not fauna, not flora, not rot. It tracked with what he had sensed from the woman before. But if Phantom was a ghost too, that meant he'd died at about the same age Buddy's own son, Cliff, had, and that sent a pang of heartache through the man's chest.

One thing didn't make sense, though. Phantom claimed to be a ghost, like the Lunch Lady, but unlike with her, Buddy could sense Phantom through the Red. It was a thin connection, like the kid was hanging onto it by a thread, but it was a solid one, too. If this kid really was a ghost, he wasn't the same as the one he'd just trapped in that thermos of his.

For a moment, Buddy thought about pressing for answers, but he quickly decided against it. It could be that the truth was too personal, or embarrassing, or even dangerous for Phantom to reveal, especially to a virtual stranger, even one who'd helped him out. Besides everyone was entitled to their secrets. Instead, Animal Man smiled at the kid and clapped him on the back.

"That's pretty cool," he said. "Say, do ghosts eat? You should come over to my place for dinner. After a hard-fought battle like that, I'd say you deserve it."

"You can eat after fighting those things?" Phantom looked down at what remained of the meat creatures and gagged.

"Trust me, if I wasn't already a vegetarian, I would be after this," Buddy replied. "My wife's making some meat-free lasagna, and we always have tons of leftovers. She usually doesn't like me taking hero stuff home with me, but I'm sure she wouldn't mind in this case."

"She knows you're a hero?" 

The open shock on Phantom's face was a bit of a surprise, but then again, he had said he was from out of town. Just because Buddy was often swarmed by local paparazzi, didn't mean he was any more than regionally famous.

"Everyone knows," he said with a shrug. "I don't keep my identity a secret. It can get annoying sometimes, but I don't really have any reason to. I'm not one of the big-shots, like Batman and Wonder-Woman. You're not from around here, so I bet you never even heard of Animal Man before today."

"Well... no...."

"Exactly," Buddy made sure to grin wide enough that the kid knew there were no hard feelings about it. "So what do you say? You coming over for dinner, or what?"

"I'd love to, but I can't," Phantom said apologetically. "I have to deal with all this meat and then my—uh... I just have other plans tonight."

"You need help with the clean up?"

Phantom frowned down at the piled of meat still surrounding the two of them. 

Maybe this really hadn't been the best place to discuss dinner plans. Man, Buddy really was desensitized to this kinda stuff wasn't he? For a guy who didn't eat meat, he sure spent a lot of time surrounded by it, both in the Red, and now here.

"Nah," Phantom decided finally. "I think I can just turn the ground intangible and phase everything down under the street level so it can decompose."

"Just turn the ground intangible, huh?" Animal Man huffed a light laugh and shook his head. "Yeah, alright, if you're sure. I should get going anyway. Stay safe, kiddo. Maybe I'll see you around again before you head back home."

"Uh..." Phantom blinked owlishly at him. "Y-yeah... you uh... stay safe too."

Animal Man smiled and nodded, and took off toward his home, borrowing the power of flight from a pigeon on a telephone wire. The way Phantom had reacted, it was almost like no one had ever said that to him before. Stay safe.

Where had he said he was from? Amity Park?

Maybe Animal Man should keep tabs on him from now on, just in case. After all, ghost or not, he was still just a teenager, and all heroes needed allies from time to time.

[mikhailwrites]

Soaring Ever Higher 2 - Ghoap/Ace Combat 7 crossover

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Ghost met John "Trigger" MacTavish and after the pilot saved his life - at cost of disobeying a direct order - asked him out for a drink. However, Trigger stood him up...

John is on his way to change from his flight suit to something considerably nicer. Well, maybe not all that much nicer since he wasn’t exactly planning on going out during this deployment, let alone going out with someone. Still, a tan tee and black cargo trousers could be considered an improvement.

Just as he’s nearing the door to his room, someone is standing in front of them, hand raised to knock. Trigger makes another two steps before he pauses. He’d recognise the unruly mop of dirty-blonde hair anywhere. “Count?” he calls out his wingman, who turns around quickly.

“Ah, there you are! Come on, the boss needs you,” Count gestures. Trigger stops. No way. Do they really have to do this right now?

“Can’t he wait at least till tomorrow? He can chew me out then,” John shrugs, resuming his walk towards his room.

However, Count shakes his head. “It’s not about your stunt today, I think. There’s another mission, an urgent one,” he explains. “So, come on. It’s not like you have somewhere better to be.”

He does, actually, but doesn’t say it out loud. If Count knew about his plans, Trigger wouldn’t hear the end of it. “Aye, okay, lead the way.”

True to Count’s words, Long Caster is already in the briefing room, going over maps and documents. The moment Trigger and his wingman come through the door, their commanding officer looks up, eyes locking on John.

“Good thing you haven’t changed yet. You’re about to go out again. The station personnel is refuelling your aircraft as we speak.”

“What’s so damn urgent then?” Trigger barely hides his displeasure as he walks around to the table and looks at the mission intel.

Long Caster also turns to the table and pulls out a topographic map of the nearby mountain range. “We need you to do a recon sweep.”

John gives him a long, hard look as if to ascertain if he’s serious or not. “Excuse me? A recon sweep? Don’t we have drones for that?”

“We do. That, and insubordinate, obstinate SoBs that treat commands as if they were mere suggestions. Get ready. You leave in ten,” Long Caster nods at the fellow pilot. When Trigger doesn’t move an inch, he adds: “Dismissed, Lieutenant.”

“Yes, sir,” Trigger grunts and leaves.

Count looks at the back of his friend and wingman before he turns to Long Caster. “With all due respect, sir, was that really necessary?”

“I don’t need you questioning my orders, Count. However, if you insist, I’m sure we can arrange some rewarding mission for you as well,” his superior cocks an eyebrow in obvious challenge.

“I think I’ll pass. Permission to leave?”

“As far as I’m concerned, you were never here,” Long Caster nods to the still-open door and Count excuses himself.

The flight path is long and utterly boring. Trigger has to fly low and slow for the radar and lidar to catch everything he needs. He’s bored. His jet is bored, too. It’s just a sea of green, stretching in all directions, and, even worse, the sky is still overcast, so it’s just the green below and dull grey above.

He returns after the nightfall. Taking off the helmet, the sweat-drenched mohawk sticks to his head. Trigger only exchanges a few pleasantries with the staff and engineers before retreating to his quarters to shower.

Only then, under the spray of lukewarm water to cool himself down, does he remember he was supposed to meet with Ghost and practically stood the man up. Great way to fuck up a promising start they had. John shortly debates if he should go to Ghost’s quarters and explain to him what happened.

No. It sounds like bullshit, and he’s way too beat to go anywhere, anyway. Even more so since the Strider squadron’s mission has been completed, and they will be returning to their home base tomorrow. Another long, boring flight. At least he will have his mates to chat with.

#

Ghost finds Laswell first thing in the morning. He’s not angry, and he’s willing to give Trigger the benefit of the doubt. Ghost knows better than most how quickly downtime can turn into active duty, especially for top operatives such as himself or Trigger.

Laswell is fully immersed in the display of her laptop. Ghost knocks on the open door and is given a lifted index finger – a universal symbol to wait, and that’s what he does. Full five minutes, actually. Only then does Laswell click a few times and finally nods at Ghost to come in. “What can I do for you, Lieutenant?”

“Do you know where Trigger is?” Ghost’s voice is steady, as is the rest of him. To anyone else, it wouldn’t sound any different than asking what’s for lunch, but not to Laswell since it’s her job to notice even the most subtle changes and details. She’s also damn good at her job.

“Yesterday, Flight Lieutenant was needed elsewhere, in a rather urgent manner, I’m afraid,” she confirms Ghost’s unvoiced theory, “as of this morning, Strider squadron’s mission has concluded, and they returned to their home base”. By mentioning Trigger’s rank, she also lets Ghost know that MacTavish actually outranks him. Interesting, if not exactly surprising. It’s good that John didn’t intend to leave him hanging. However, Trigger is now, quite literally, in the wind. Who knows how long before they run into each other again? Ghost tries to convince himself that he mostly minds the debt; he’s promised John a drink. “I could get you his phone number if you want.”

“No need,” Ghost declines her offer and pointedly ignores the knowing look on her face. Laswell doesn’t need to know everything, let alone the degree of interest Ghost has in MacTavish.

Ghost walks out, stopping on the tarmac and looking up. There’s the vast expanse of clear blue sky. If he’s honest, he never paid too much attention to it. His fight is and has always been on the ground. Now, he can’t help but wonder: how does being up there feel? There is no ground to support you, no cover to help you, no nothing, just you, the mission, and almost endless space. There’s something freeing in the thought but, at the same time, anxiety-inducing. No, Ghost is very much ground-animal, thank you very much.

If he gets to talk to MacTavish again, he will ask him what he sees in the blue. What does he feel when the jet leaves the ground? What is he thinking about, up there, among birds and clouds? And what’s with those three strikes on the tail? With a newfound resolve, he changes the initial if to when. When he gets to talk to MacTavish again.

[bigfemboyenergy]

The Worst Crossover To Ever ‘Cross Over’ Pt.2

See, Danny isn’t terribly surprised with his predicament. And by that, he means that he is wholly unsurprised that he has to fake who he is. A fourteen year old kid working, in this day and age? Unlikely, he thinks. So he decides to pretend to be fifteen, what an easy fix. But that doesn’t help with Sonic’s side of the problem. Sure, Sonic gets confused for a kid, but..how old is he?

As soon as the thought surfaces, Danny opens his mouth to speak, turning to look at Sonic as they walk around, searching for a somewhat acceptable abandoned building or something similar to hide out in for now. “Uh, how old are you, exactly?” Danny asks, with little hesitation. Sonic shrugs; “Old enough to legally drink in some countries- why, worried about something?” Danny feels his face turn a bit white. Wow, his appearance does not match his age. With a nervous smile, Danny responds with, “Yeah, dunno if you could get a job looking like that. I’m fourteen, and even I look older than you.” Sonic coughs awkwardly. “I’m gonna have to work on that, aren’t I? What an unlucky day it is,” he says, with a yawn. Shelving that problem in order to focus on the most important one, the two continue to wander the streets, looking for something to temporarily call “home”.

It isn’t too long before they find a suitable place. Dark, dreary, just like everywhere else; but it’s far more exaggerated, and even dirtier than the rest of the city. Some old graffiti here and there, a broken window or two. Not too shabby on the inside, still has running water and an AC. It makes Danny wonder just how old this building is and just how long it’s been since it was last lived in.

Sonic inspects every nook and cranny of the building, as if checking for safety violations. It appears to be an old office building, with kitchen necessities in what might’ve been a break room, and running water in the bathrooms. He investigates alone, namely for “Danny’s safety”, he says, but it makes one think. The amount of spiders he’s killed seems to point to a different conclusion..but that’s of no matter.

After looking at every floor, Sonic finally decides which one they’ll be staying on. Something that’s just a cut above the rest, and also safe enough- the third floor, out of four. He waves Danny over to the cleanest spot in the spacious, main room, calling out, “Let’s sleep over here for now, since we kinda can’t clean anything yet. It looks a lot nicer here, away from the nasty corners.” Danny nods, agreeing in silence. It looks like they have a lot of work to do, as they both flop on the floor and try to sleep.

Danny, however, struggles to sleep. In an entirely new city, an empty building, with someone who he’s just been freshly acquainted with, trying to sleep on the cold, hard floor? That’s no easy feat, and he acknowledges this. So he comes to the most logical conclusion: why not check out the city from above, via Phantom form? In silence, he nods in agreement with his own thought, intrigued by his new possibilities. He’ll fly out and survey the town, enjoy the sunrise, if he’s awake for that long- try to make this place feel a little bit like home. Familiarize himself with it, perhaps. It sounds like a good plan, no? So he acts.

He whispers to himself, after assuring that Sonic is asleep, “Going ghost!” He transforms in silence. A little reminder of who he is, the whispers of who he was only hours ago, come to him via his reference of his beginnings. It gives him a feeling of determination, a want to explore. A desire to protect this new friend he’s found, and the strangers of a place he’s newly discovered. Slowly slipping through the floor, intangibly, he floats out of the building, making himself invisible so as not to spook anyone else who may be out at night.

In the night sky, he soars through the clouds as he takes in the layout of the city. It’s large, dark, and..full of crime, which makes a lot of sense in such a poverty-stricken area, but.. it has an air of abnormality. Suddenly, he hears some horrible sounds. Shrill, shrieking laughter booms out from a warehouse a few blocks away, his ears wishing for the silence of seconds before to return. Although he doesn’t truly want to approach, his obsession to protect those in need draws him to the source of the sound. The closer he gets, the more off everything seems. And..are those furries on the top of that building? What have I gotten myself into, he thinks, with an accompanying facepalm. Oh, boy.

Back in the cold, dreary office building, Sonic wakes up, restless. He feels terrible..he turns towards Danny, wanting to check on him, before quickly finding out that he’s not even present. What a fantastic day this has been. Sonic feels his heart pumping, ready for a run. He has to find Danny, to make sure he’s okay. Unless..he left of his own accord? Shit, what if he actually is weirded out by me..he said something about the unusualness of a guy like me showing up, didn’t he?! Sonic struggles to decide what to do. He knows Danny could be in need, he knows he’s young. And, from what he’s gathered, he’s a bit odd too, but if he needs help, of course Sonic should jump on in for him! They’re “partners in crime” now, aren’t they?

Despite his conscience screaming at him to go, he still struggles to make the choice. What if Danny really didn’t mean anything he said? But..he listens to that loud, desperate part of him. He doesn’t want to lose the only person he’s found here. If he can save or help this kid, someone who accepts him in this strange new place, that’s just what he’ll do.

So, against his “better judgement”, he rushes off, speeding around the town to find Danny. If anything, he should be where it’s quietest or where it’s loudest, since both are eeriest. As Sonic zooms off, going incredibly fast so as not to be seen clearly, he is particularly careful to check suspicious, disturbing areas.

Not long after he began his run, he finds Danny. But it’s quite the weird situation to be in.. cause Danny’s colors are inverted now? And there’s this weird bat guy a few buildings away, with some friends, too.. and a fucking..clown?! What is this shit, bad writing??!

[spiteful--art]

Divine Beasts PT. 2 - Imposter + SAGAU (Crossover)

Synopsis: You bond with your team, fighting alongside them as you explore Liyue. Meanwhile, some people have a discussion about the Divine Creator and the Deceiver.

Notes: Violence, attempted hilichurlian, no human dies but they get seriously injured Taglist: @the-2nd-random-kid, @vvyeislazzy, @mulandi, @okamiroxas, @depressed-bitchy-demon Genre: General Crossover, 2.29k words (Also, new linebreaks!)

You don’t know how many hours have slipped by ever since your Honchkrow took flight. You didn’t mind it, though. As a child, you’ve dreamt of this moment many times, hitching a ride on a Pokemon and soaring through the skies. Though the circumstances leading up to this moment were less than pleasant, you didn’t let that dampen your experience. Not when the ground seemed to small below you, not when you marvel at how the scenery changes before your very eyes. However, you weren’t about to let your Honchkrow just turn into a 5-hour flight. “Honchkrow, let’s rest over there.” Honchkrow caws at you before descending to the ground. You get off of the large crows, patting his beak. “Good job, buddy. You can take a rest.”

Deciding against putting him in his orb form, you figured you might as well bring out the rest of your team. Removing the rest of the colorful orbs from your belt, you threw them high into the air. Bright lights fill your vision, all in an array of colors. Shielding your eyes from the spectrum of color, you lower your arms when your companions stopped shining bright.

You see them. All six of your Pokemon standing right before you. The first to reach you is your Jolteon, tackling you to the ground and fervently licking your face. “Ahaha! Jolty, I’m happy to see you too! Down boy, down!” The eeveelution calms himself, panting as he settled onto your lap. The sweet scent that approached you made obvious who the fourth member of your team is. Your Roserade bows before you, making you giggle. “Rade, elegant as ever.”

The final two members, a Floatzel riding on a Bastiodon, soon walk over to you. The Bastiodon rumbles as you placed a hand on its head while your Floatzel happily squeaks at you. Meanwhile, Infernape and Honchkrow seem to have designated themselves as look out duty, the large black bird flying into the sky as Infernape scans the area with distrustful eyes.

Right… The other four don’t know about your situation yet.

Thankfully, wherever Honchkrow took you had no sign of civilization as far as you can see. Judging by the general surroundings, you think you landed somewhere between Mondstadt and Liyue. Unless you encounter any Treasure Hoarders or Fatui agents, you should be able to roam around without any difficulty. Hell, maybe you’ll encounter another friendly hilichurl tribe? You still don’t know how or why they managed to bring your Pokemon team to life, but with your powerful friends, you won’t be having an issue in self-defense should the previous tribe prove to be an outlier.

“So listen guys,” Your voice catches your Pokemon’s attention, though Infernape stands ever vigilant. “We’re in a pretty bad spot as of now. I don’t know why, but the people of Mondstadt were out for blood, and if my gut is correct I’m gonna have a bad time at Liyue.” You say. Initially you were unsure if your Pokemon can grasp what you are going to say, but seeing your Floatzel look concerned reassures you that your meaning is coming across. “So here’s what I’m thinking-“

You use your staff to draw on the ground. “Since the hilichurls back there have decided to aid me, it’ll probably be a good idea to learn their language.” You say, drawing a crude samachurl with a smiley face. “However, since I’m being hunted, it’s going to be difficult to get my hands on hilichurlian books. But I think I have a solution…”

While you brief your team on the plan, two Mondstadters sit in tense silence.

Kaeya sits across from Lisa, the Librarian staring at him with an unreadable expression.

Ironically, it’s Kaeya who breaks the ice.

“You’ve read the reports, have you?” Kaeya asked, his arms crossed as he looks at Lisa. She lets out a sigh, procuring an envelope from her satchel, sliding it to Kaeya.

“It’s certainly hard to believe, that’s for sure. An imposter of the Divine Creator, a strange ape-like beast wielding the power of Pyro… If Jean hadn’t gone out to apprehend the Charlatan herself, I would have thought one of the knights had a wild night out.”

Kaeya tsked, throwing the envelope back at Lisa, who catches it between her fingers. “Don’t you think it’s strange?” Seeing the mage’s raised eyebrow, Kaeya continued. “First, the Almighty Creator descends to Teyvat, and suddenly everyone becomes a zealot. I don’t mean to speak ill of her, but seeing Eula become so fired up about impressing the Creator… Something’s fishy.”

Lisa looks away. “You’ll get in trouble for saying that, you know.”

“But who’s going to tell?” Kaeya pressed. Lisa says nothing, tracing the rim of her teacup. “Besides, Jean never acted like this religious. I know the Anemo Archon watches over us all, but…

“I know. I thought she was just excited about Creator’s descent, but it’s been a week. It has gotten to the point where Barbara confided with me her concerns.”

Kaeya frowns. “It appears I’m not alone as I thought.”

Lisa returns his expression. “That Charlatan person… I don’t think this whole hunt is necessary. Identity theft may be a serious crime, but they didn’t even claim to be a god.”

“Exactly.” Kaeya leans forward. “Everything has to do with the Creator, if that’s who they truly are. “

Lisa doesn’t say anything, then pulls out a scroll. “This parchment I found. It’s been stuffed in the pages of a bestiary.”

She unrolls the length, laying it down on the table for Kaeya to see.

Etched on the parchment was a drawing depicting the Almighty Creator gesturing to a monstrous creature. It was serpentine in structure, black tendrils sprouting from its body as it roars at the Creator. Meanwhile, surrounding the Creator were beasts less monstrous than the serpent. Standing among them was an ape-like creature whose head is aflame.

The two Mondstadters look at each other.

“…I don’t suppose Barbara would be opposed to joining another meeting of ours?”

“…Floatzel, Rain Dance!”

Dark clouds form above the Treasure Hoarders’ heads as you whacked your staff across a Pugilist’s face. Currently, you’re being accosted by a quartet of Treasure Hoarders looking to bring you to the Liyue Qixing. Unluckily for them, your Floatzel and Jolteon took issue with this, and have teamed up to take them out.

“Gah- You think a little rain can stop us?” A Treasure Gravedigger mocked, winding to swing his shovel before you pointed your finger at him.

“Jolty! Sic’ em with Thunder Fang!”

The combination of Floatzel’s rain, the electricity surging through his arm, and Jolteon’s canines sinking into his arm causes the large Gravedigger to scream in agony. Pretty soon, the big guy falls to the ground unconscious. An arrow bounces off the Light Screen set up earlier in the battle, and the Marksman takes a big gulp when Jolteon and Floatzel immediately turn their attention to him. “H-He did it!” Cried the Marksman, shoving his crossbow to the Scout.

“H-Hey, what’s wrong with you?!”

The sea weasel doesn’t wait to for your command, fangs glowing a bright blue as she bites into the thigh of the Archer, while your Jolteon follows with another Thunder Fang. The two are frozen and shocked, and thoroughly out cold. You have managed to fend off the Pugilist you were fighting, taking advantage of his shock by slamming your staff on his head. Panting, you survey your surroundings. The bodies of four Treasure Hoarders lay on the wet field, leftover electricity crackling across two. You took in a deep breath to calm your heart.

“Good job, you two,” You say, taking out two berries and throwing them to your Pokemon. “Seems like moves work a little differently in Teyvat…”

After the rain clears, you task Infernape to take the Treasure Hoarders to a safer location, but not without nabbing a few things from the thugs. You decide to take the hat off of the Gravedigger, figuring it would help disguise you.

Stealing done and over with, you recall your Floatzel and Jolteon as your Honchkrow descends to your side, cawing at you. “Oh? You found something?” Honchkrow confirms, letting you hitch a ride on his back. The two of you landed in another hilichurl camp and are immediately greeted by a pair of excited shooters. You allow them to guide you inside as Honchkrow rests on the watchtower. A Geo samachurl greets you, bowing its head in reverence. Though the action worries you, you’re grateful that the Hilichurl camp from before isn’t an outlier.

Once again, you are sat on a file of fur as the hilichurls dance in your presence. The samachurl from earlier comes back with a mitachurl. The mitachurl holds something wrapped in cloth, gentle as a mitachurl could be.

“Kuzi Unu, mimi mani Tiga muhe.”

From your limited knowledge of hilichurlian, you hazard a guess that they want to give you something Geo-related. You’re not entirely sure what that entails, but you hold your arms towards the mitachurl as it places the item in your hands.

Your heart sinks when you see just what the bundle holds.

The Earth Plate emits a soft brown glow in your arms, then a bright light flashes for a brief moment.

When the universe was created, its shards became this Plate.

The implications that are settling in your brain are not good ones. The samachurls giving you these wondrous items, and this one calling you a Great God…

It appears that your journey has only just begun.

Laying your palm flat on the Plate, you whisper the engraving. The Plate breaks apart, the power of Ground enveloping you. Suddenly, your feet began to cramp. Quicky discarding your worn shoes, you gasp. Where there was once human flesh, there was soil. The hilichurls cheered at the spectacle while you poked your new soil-legs. They felt like soil, but at the same time you still felt them.

Before you could think to do anything, you suddenly stiffen up as images of fuzzy static flashed through your mind. Standing up, you stomped your feet on the bare ground.

“Millelith! Yaya ika!” You cry out in broken hilichurlian. Thankfully, the message comes across, the tribe immediately going on the defensive as a Millelith group storm into the camp.

“So the news is true. Disgusting. The fact that they associate with the hilichurl pests is bad enough… Men! Kill all hilichurls, don’t let that Pretender escape!”

Not wanting to stand idly by, you quickly summon your Bastiodon. “Bastiodon! Dig!”

Your Bastiodon roars as it dives into the ground, disrupting the Millelith’s attack formation. Men in armor cry out in alarm as they are suddenly launched into the air by an irate dinosaur as you assist in the fight yourself. Meanwhile, Honchkrow acts as aerial support, sending Air Cutters towards any Millelith that finds themselves up in the air.

“Hyah!” You stomped on the ground, a spike of the earth jutting up and hitting a soldier square in the jaw as you swung your staff at another. The squad attempting to ambush you during the scuffle was swiftly taken out by your Bastiodon using Heavy Slam. You quickly run to defend a hilichurl about to have its life taken away, slamming your foot on the ground to create a chunk of earth. A swift punch to the chunk sends it speeding towards the soldiers attacking the hilichurl, knocking them unconscious. You wince at the concussions you may have caused.

The mitachurls do their best to fend off the Millelith soldiers surrounding them, but as soon as one of their shields broke, the soldiers switched their strategy. The mitachurl with a missing shield soon found himself trying to shake off the numerous soldiers jabbing and slashing their spears at him while the other tries to reach his comrade, kept away by the millelith’s spears.

It’s then did you look over and see the shield-less mitachurl fall over did your vision turned red.

“...You're certain of this?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“…I see. This is a most troubling development. This power unleashed by the Pretender, you said it was as powerful as Rex Lapis himself.”

“Yes, my lady. My men are still recovering from the injuries the Pretender gave us, not to mention the beasts that disrupted our strategies… Thank the Almighty Creator none a single life was lost.”

“This has been an enlightening conversation. You are free to go.”

“Thank you, my lady.”

“…” “I don’t suppose we are thinking the same thing.”

“After the information that’s been revealed today, I think it would be in our best interests that our thoughts align.”

“Then you agree that this Pretender is more than they seem to be?”

“…Yes.”

“…”

“…Good answer. Perhaps we may be able to solve the mystery that’s been plaguing our reality with that ‘Pretender’s’ help…

“And find out who the Creator really is.”

[chronosdawn]

don't be shy, you can rewrite the howl's plot while still making the crossover 💞💞 (the feral dynamic between howl reader and wotw scara would be so funny (tired exasperated reader vs jaded simpering brat scara lmao)

In reference to this post.

You get it anon, you get the dynamic I'm going for.

Sadly I don't think I can commit to rewriting the whole plot of the movie because that would be a fairly tremendous undertaking (especially when I already have quite a few WIPs that I'm slowly chipping away at). However, because I really love this concept and as a thank you for being my first ask, I have written a little drabble for you anon. I hope you enjoy it!

I'm also open to taking asks about this AU and may write some more drabbles for it in the future so keep your eyes peeled!

A lone figure stood at the mouth of the alleyway leading to the main square, the dark colors of his outfit at odds with the cheerful banners and fluttering flags adorning the nearby buildings. His countenance too, did not match that of the other parade-goers, for if one were to peer into the shadow cast by his wide-brimmed hat, they would find his features twisted in bitter fury—his eyes trained not on the merry townsfolk, but the two figures soaring high above them, one with their arm wrapped around the other.

The figure sank his teeth into the skin of his lip. Even though he’d been working at pursuing you for some time now, he hadn’t expected you to make a trip into town today, not with all the soldiers and crowds. It had been so long since he’d been this close to you that it’d made him desperate, acting with far too much haste and not enough forethought to keep you from getting away. It hurt more, somehow, to have come so close only to have you slip right through his fingers. 

Again.

A faint noise like that of shifting fabric alerted the figure to a presence behind him and Scaramouche, the Wizard of the Waste, turned to face one of his poor excuses for a servant. 

The creature made of writhing shadows bowed deeply, arm held over its chest where its heart had once been before the wizard had carved it out and replaced it with his own dark magic.

“My apologies, my Lord,” the thing rasped, “the sorcerer has escaped.”

Scaramouche’s expression twisted further in distaste as he hissed through his teeth, “yes, I could see that much.” He turned back to where your retreating figure still hung in the sky, his fingers twitching at his sides as though he might reach out and pluck you from it. “At least tell me you’re still following them.”

“The others are trailing them from the ground, my Lord. Once they descend, we shall inform you of their whereabouts immediately and attempt to seize the sorcerer—”

“No,” Scaramouche interrupted, keeping his gaze trained on you. “By the time you catch up to them, they’ll be long gone. Follow the other one, the peasant looking fellow they have with them. Find out where he lives and report it to me immediately.” 

“As you wish my Lord.” The creature’s form started to disperse, the shadows that made up its body slithering away into the dark nooks and crannies of the crumbling alleyway stonework.

“One last thing before you go.” Scaramouche raised a hand, black-purple smoke curling around his pale fingers. A hiss of pain came from behind him as the magic making up the creature’s body began to constrict, distorting its shape even further from anything that could have once been called human. “I’ll be lenient on this occasion, but the next time you disappoint me, well,” his tone dropped, turning deadly, “I have no need for useless things, do I?”

“No, m—my Lord,” the thing stammered out, the tearing vocal cords in its throat rendering the sound akin to nails being scrapped across a chalkboard. 

“Go on then.” All at once the magic at the wizard’s fingertips vanished, and the creature wasted no time in making its exit, leaving Scaramouche alone in the alleyway.

You were so far away now it was difficult to make out the shape of your form—where you ended and the irksome worm pressed against your side began. He couldn’t stand it, the thought of someone else at your side—a place that used to belong to him. No, a place that still belonged to him, and would continue to, regardless of your feelings on the matter. 

But no matter how irritating it was to see someone else touching you, he’d have been a fool not to see it for the opportunity it was. 

Scaramouche knew you, knew that no matter how much you liked to run and hide away from your problems, there was a kindness in you that you’d never quite managed to truly ignore. If some unfortunate soul, particularly one you’d already shown a hint of favor to, were to turn up at your door, cursed and bereft of other options, you’d surely allow them into your home.  And if that cursed individual just so happened to be carrying a talisman upon their person that contained enough of a wizard's magic to break past the infernal seal you kept on the door of your so-called castle, they would be able to lead said wizard right to you.

How fortunate then, Scaramouche thought, that he now had someone he wanted to curse with every fiber of his being.

And once the fool allowed him access to your residence, all he had to do was find where you were keeping your heart hidden away and take it for himself.

[chunkypossum]

Come Hel or High Lord: Ch 6

Chapter 6: Buzzards and Banter

Words: 3600

Reminder: This is a crossover between all SJM series. So spoilers for TOG, ACOTAR, and CC

Summary:

Aelin is that bitch ... that is all.

Snippet below the cut. Read on Ao3

“I tried to get her to rest 2 hours ago and she refuses to stop.” Adeion continued. “I was afraid that she had been nearing a burn out an hour ago but…” Aedion had his attention now, Rowan sliced an iced edged stare in his direction. “But what?” Continuing to monitor the fight below, Aedion didn’t meet his eyes. “She- I don’t know. It was as if she reached that burn out, the bottom of her well of power, and punched a hole through it just so she could keep going.”  “That’s not possible.” Rowan let his breath stream slowly from his nose in an effort to calm himself.  If he didn’t approach her correctly, she would never listen to him. As it was, Aelin had abandoned Aedion’s help and advice in favor of the more indulgent members of her court. He was going to have to have a talk with Fenrys.  Fine, if she wanted a challenge, she would get it.  He cracked his neck on one side, then the other, a growl rumbling low in his chest as a very Fae smile etched itself into the corners of his mouth. On silent feet, Rowan crept backwards a few paces before springing forward and vaulting himself off the balcony they had been perched on. There was a flash of light and he soared on near silent wings toward her back, sending a gust of wind towards her. When it was only a handful of inches from knocking her on her ass, a wall of fire rose up to meet it, sending Rowan pulling up high into the sky, screeching. He dove straight down, angling at the top of her head. He veered swiftly to the right then the left as arrows of fire shot up towards him. Aelin hadn’t moved from her position but her two sparring partners had discreetly seen themselves out.  Using a great blast of wind to slow his fall, Rowan shifted again, landing hard on his feet directly in front of her, panting, smiling.  A wicked grin crossed her face, “Came to play?” 

This is a cross over fic so a giant cast of characters and a big stupid storyline but Azris is my main bitch in this fic so ...Holla at ya boi if you want on or off the Azris tag train : @talibunny30 @iftheshoef1tz @born-to-riot @pathfinderofnight @fell-in-luvs @fieldofdaisiies @aktrain @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @secret-third-thing @acourtofladydeath @pippsmcgee @youvereachedthenearest-lovergirl @baileybird71 @skyesayshi

[the-sky-queen]

Can you list the AUs you have?

I'm really curious about which ones you have

Ohhhhh, my friend, you have no idea what you're getting yourself into. >:)

AUs posted to Ao3:

Find Yourself

A Spark Soaring Down Through The Pouring Rain (The New Yolk part of my Sonic Prime With Great Power Comes AU)

We Disappoint, We Disappear, We Die But We Don't (The Bosscage part of my Sonic Prime With Great Power Comes AU)

Sky's Sonic-verse (multiple things posted for this, I won't list them all)

Dreams of Disaster

Tachophobia (Shared with @boom-fanfic-a-latta AKA Lily)

Reset

Darkspine Djinn (Shared with Lily and @cattyanon)

Athazagoraphobia (Tachophobia Expanded Universe (TEU) spinoff)

Simon Says (Shared with Lily)

Sing Me A Story (Shared with Lily)

Super Naturals

Atychiphobia (TEU spinoff)

Sonic Prime: Ascendence (Shared with Lily)

Metal

Spectrophobia (TEU spinoff, shared with Lily)

AUs not on Ao3 (yet), but have been seen here on tumblr:

The Nexus Triology

The Difficult Balance Between A Blessing And A Curse (The No Place part of my Sonic Prime With Great Power Comes AU)

Pizza Place (Discontinued)

Alter-Egos

The Blind Hero

Immortals

New Beginnings

Spirits

Decidiophobia (TEU spinoff, shared with Lily)

The Ask Multiverse (various AU ideas given to me by my anons)

Dementophobia (TEU spinoff, shared with Lily)

SCU x Game Crossover (SSS from Whipple Family (mis)Adventures by @stillafanofsonic get transported to the game universe)

Guardian Swap

Sonic of Mars

Little Gremlins

Speak of the Devil

Bio Soniclizard (shared with cattyanon)

Mephiles Possessing Shadow

Star Dust

Angel of Death

Sing

The Unshakable Bond (shared with @floxy-offical)

Phobophobia (TEU spinoff)

Sonic and the Lord of the Rings

Red Son Didn't Know (hello there my one LMK AU-)

[SYSTEM_RECOVER - FRACTURED_BOND]

Astrophobia (TEU spinoff)

Mesmerize Me

Sonic and the Swan Princess

Phantom Mind

Haunted By You

After Today

The Black Prince

Sonic and the Epic Journey

Sonic Amulet

Sonic the Vocaloid

All Eyes On Me

The Monster Under My Bed

Sonic WOZ

Eldritch God Shadow

And there's even MORE that haven't been posted at ALL yet, but I won't list those here. (Though you can find a lot of them in my Unposted AU ask game) So. Yeah. I have way too many AUs. XD

[toweroftickles]

REIMAGINED TICKLING #4: The Shmorgasbord

A lot of times when I see a tickling scene in a movie or TV show, I imagine how fun it would be to see other characters in those same situations. You know, like "Oh I wanna see X character get tickled like that." So I thought I'd try writing a few drabbles where I'll take a famous tickle scene and reinterpret it with new characters in new settings.

This is Part 4 of an ongoing series…I had a bunch of ideas for shorter crossover scenes, so they’re all smashed together!

Rescuers Down Under/Kid Icarus

"WAHOOHOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!"

The warm spring wind whipped through Pit's locks. His foot carved a canyon slice into the top of a low-hanging downy cloud as he soared through the sky with the speed of a rollercoaster. But the Power of Flight wasn't giving lift to his own feeble wings. This time, Pit was instead dangling in the breeze, carried aloft by the arms of the newly-reborn Phoenix.

In its adult form, the flaming bird had once been much more gargantuan...just one of its mighty talons was bigger than Pit himself...but Pit liked this younger reincarnated version better. For one thing, it didn't try to eat or step on him. It was the perfect size to grasp the angel boy's biceps and airlift him across the sprawling human continent below.

What a rush!

"And unlike some of us, HE doesn't have a five-minute time limit." Viridi's snarky voice reverberated in between Pit's ears, descended from on high as if she were speaking right next to him. "Just imagine, if you came to work for the Forces of Nature instead..."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that," Palutena, Goddess of Light, uncharacteristically smarmy, butted in. "I'm sure my Captain would rather have five minutes of flight and MY wisdom at his disposal, than that overgrown turkey and YOURS."

"What?!"

"I-I'm perfectly happy with everything you both can do for me, Lady Palutena....Viridi..." Pit insisted, desperate to break the tension.

Unseen by either, Viridi rolled her eyes…and her giant new pet followed suit.

Suddenly, Pit gasped. A sharp claw stabbed at his belly, but it wasn't trying to tear him open. The Phoenix's digit was scratching his ribcage, in between and underneath the bones, pressing into him like he was a squeeze toy.

"HAA-Ha!! Heehee-Heehee-Hee!!! Pff! HngHng-HNG!!" Pit's voice cracked as he burst into loud, uncontrolled spasms. He flailed his desperate limbs around, kicking in all directions, and the Phoenix could barely maintain its grip on the squirmy centurion. He looked like a jumping bean having a seizure.

“Sheesh, what’s wrong with you?” Viridi scoffed.

“Oh, don’t mind him,” Palutena giggled, a knowing twinkle in her voice. “Pit’s very ticklish. Aren’t you, Pit?”

“AHH! *gasp* Hmhm-Hng!! Hee; n-hohohoheh! *heave* Ha-Huh…AH! You’re poking; you’re pohokihing!!” the hysterical angel boy squeaked. Tears were welling up in the corners of his eyes.

No! No no no stop! I'm gonna fall!!!

The Phoenix wouldn’t quit; its talon was jabbing into a soft spot above Pit’s liver, clawing up and down along his side, tracing circles around his belly button…the goddesses were laughing as they watched him gleefully wiggle…

It was only a few more moments before the tickling stopped, but to Pit, it felt like ages. He slumped over in the bird’s arms, struggling to catch his breath in the harsh wind. His tummy was sore.

“WHEW……whoooo….Ha….Ha-ha…”

"Heehee...awww, are you ok, little guy?"

Pit blushed. He'd gotten used to Palutena teasing him over the years, but it was always worse when someone like Viridi was around.

"Heh-Heh...whew...yeah; I don't want him to do that again though!"

"Well don't wiggle too much, or you'll end up flat as a pancake!" Viridi giggled smugly.

"Mmmm...pancakes...."

Few things could pull down Pit's chipper mood. Barrel rolls and aerial somersaults carried him on the wind and toward the sun, no longer besieged by Underworld forces...toward home, where breakfast awaited him.

It always felt good to fly.

Samurai Pizza Cats/Street Fighter

The noonday spring sun blazed proudly overhead. Sporting her green-and-orange summer vacation duds, Makoto looked like a lost Mario Brother (er, Sister). But she felt like a change. After all, this wasn't the usual Shadaloo-funded recruitment tourney with a massive prize pool and worldwide media coverage. This was a proper, no-holds barred, pure-cut street brawl...the only rules this time were "no biting" and "no dismemberment." Tons of combatants were trying out all new weapons, all new fighting styles...anything they could imagine. But Makoto? She was still determined to be just as great as Ryu in her own ways. Only her honor mattered.

Defiantly twisting her hat, she stamped her sneaker into the dusty marketplace street. A chalk ring was drawn around as the innumerable food stalls were pushed apart. A crowd of hundreds gathered to watch, and out of the teeming mass stepped a slightly more solidified mass...one named Rufus.

(“Waddled” may be more accurate than “stepped.”)

“Hey, Rufus! Whatcha hiding behind your back?” Makoto asked him, genuinely friendly as usual. “Don’t be shy; I’m sure you’ve got something awesome!” Her question, though, was met with something truly bizarre.

On the ends of Rufus’ hands were rubbery fake thumbs, easily longer than his other fingers, and so round they were almost teardrop-shaped.

“Rufus is fighting with an apparently all-new and ‘totally awesome’ style that he did not feel like disclosing to our governing body…I don’t know what the hell he’s doing, but I don’t think any of you will mind if I nap through this one, folks.” The fight’s announcer wasn’t even pretending to take that walrus-in-a-unitard seriously.

"Just you wait! Yeah! You’re cool, man, but I’m the best! That's right!"

Makoto stared awkwardly at the burly biker’s new prosthetics. Thumb-wrestling? Is he gonna try to squeeze my head like a tick?

Rufus was a doofus…(Huh; I should remember that one, she mentally noted), but he was also powerful. No time to drop her guard. She flexed her muscles in a vicious chop and readied a kokutsu dachi stance, tensed like a spring about to pop.

"Well whatever kinda new gimmicks you've picked up, my Rindo-kan karate is gonna tackle the challenge head-on!"

DING! The starting bell! The match was on!

Makoto immediately swung her leg out into a chest-high kick, but instead of guarding or leaping away (as she expected), Rufus grabbed her ankles and slammed her against the ground like she was a rag doll. It was too quick for her to retaliate…with an uncomfortable belching grunt, the bubble of muscly lard that was Rufus pounded Makoto into the dirt. His gut rolled over her thighs, trapping her face-down and immobile.

"Gahhhh, get off me! Fight fair!" Makoto yelped, clawing at the dirt.

"HA HA HA!" Rufus bellowed in triumph. "You are the first, and like, only, to fall victim to..." he whipped out his enormous rubber thumbs..."RUFUS' TWO-FINGER EXPLODING HEART MASSAGE PARLOR TECHNIQUE!"

The nodulose bulbs pressed down intensely into the backs of Makoto's sides, right around the firm, muscular lumbar tissue, and rubbed in tight semicircles. Her nerves buzzed to life, and even she couldn’t stop what happened next.

"Pp-HHAA, HAHA-HAHA HAHA!! AH-Ha Ha-Ha Ha-Ha Haaa!!!"

It tickled! It tickled like crazy! Makoto lost all carefully-meditated control of her body and just exploded into wild, hysterical laughter. Her gravelly voice scraped at the inside of her throat, blasting out desperate shrieks from deep in her lungs.

"You think I got no skills to bring up against Ken Masters, dude? Now all I gotta do is get you punks in my way to loosen up first!" Those giant thumbs kneaded hard into Makoto's lower back with brutal strength. They just kept rubbing and squeezing every inch of her quivery sides.

"NOOO; HAHA-Haha!! Stop it, that tickles!! HA-HA HA-HA HA!!! No more, no mohohore!" she screamed furiously. Jetstreams of angry tears sprayed from her tightly-clenched eyes. She kicked and slapped the earth and thrashed like a bronco, but the poor girl couldn't wrench herself free of Rufus' massive weight. Her face was red from laughing. She didn't even notice it when Rufus’ thighs lifted off of her and allowed her to roll around on the floor...nor did she notice when she tumbled outside of the chalk circle that marked the arena’s edge, curled into a helpless fetal ball.

DING!!

"Ring out! Rufus is the winner!"

There was no applause. (Well, apart from Rufus' girlfriend Candy, who whooped enthusiastically in her annoying dollar-store Harley Quinn accent.) Only gasps. Mostly, everyone was just confused.

"What?! No, th-that's not fair! What kind of cheap tactics are those?!" Makoto shouted, her voice wavering from embarrassment and fury as she stood back up on wobbly legs. Her sides and her lower back were tingling as if numb, still reeling from the intense "massage" they'd just received. Her cheeks were scarlet, her breathing raspy and hard. She'd never felt so humiliated in front of the other combatants.

"Sorry, Miss Makoto, but thumb-tickling isn't against the rules in this tournament. We unfortunately have to disqualify you." The announcer's voice was firm, but sympathetic over the loudspeaker. And everyone had heard it. There was a murmur snaking throughout the crowd, as well as her fellow Street Fighters.

Makoto's stomach sank. Her lip quivering and her brows furrowed, she turned on her heel and slowly walked off. The brim of her cap shielded her eyes.

An instant one-punch KO would have been better.

Tarzan/Luca

It all happened so fast. Hot, blinding light washed over Luca, drying him instantly. For the first time in his life, there was no liquid cooling him. His face fell against a bed of rough pebbles. He whipped around like...well...a fish out of water. But he wasn't just a fish anymore.

His scales were gone.

In their place was an eerie, pinkish-white smooth surface. His blue cranial scales had retracted, replaced by a messy mop of something brown and seaweed-like. He screamed. He covered his eyes. He didn't even have time to process what was happening, so consumed was he by paranoia. But the kid nearby, who had pulled him out, just sat on a nearby rock, smirking and completely placid.

“AHHHH!! Help meeeee!” Luca wailed.

“First time?”

“Of course it is!!! I’m a good kid!!” His parents were gonna kill him!

“Hey, relax. Breathe.”

But Luca wasn’t paying attention. In the throes of his panic attack, his strange new body lurched forward and fell onto the once-purple human boy.

"Yah!"

“And what are THESE?!” Luca squeaked in terror, his voice cracking.

“Uhh, yeah, yeah, I know; no scales. See, they’re…yep, that’s it.” Luca’s new friend (?) was clearly a bit weirded out.

The tan-skinned boy accidentally yanked his wrist away from Luca with too much force…with little warning, his momentum sent him flying backwards off the rock he was sitting on, and he landed on his back in the beach pebbles. Luca shuffled forward on his elbows, still in a blind frenzy, until he was halted in his tracks by the strange kid’s right foot pressing against his shoulder.

“Hey, hey, whoa, kid; calm down,” the other stammered.

“WE HAVE FIVE FINGERS AND TOES?! How do we control that many at once?! Where are our webs?!” Luca grabbed the other boy’s foot and began to pull on & inspect the digits, and suddenly, the kid fell backwards in a fit of crazy, high-pitched giggling.

“PFFF, Heehee-Heehee-Heehee! *gasp* DAHH! No no no, dohohon’t! That tick-hlhl-hlhl-hles! *gasp* Heheh-Haha-Hahuh! No g-het ohoff, get off my tohoes, gehet off my toes, G-HET OFF MY TOES!”

Out of nowhere, the boy threw his foot out and smacked Luca right in the chin. Luca sailed back through the air until he crashed flat on his back in the shallow incoming wave, and the wet sea formed a perfect halo of green scales around his newly-human face. He was dazed. But as he laid there, attempting to come out of his stunned state, the world slowed down, and Luca finally looked at the surface for the first time.

Moving air brushed through the plants, making them wave back at him. Some kind of strange fish squawked and flapped their fins miles above his head. It was like nothing he'd ever seen before.

“Well…isn’t it great?”

“No! I-I-it’s bad, and…I’m not supposed to be up here! Good day!" Not saying another word, Luca disappeared back beneath the waves.

It took him a few moments to realize that he left his staff behind.

James & The Giant Peach/The Bad Guys

The Bad Guys had a bit of a tradition going. On each member’s birthday, no matter what, that intrepid burglar was granted once-a-year permission to take over from Mr. Wolf and plan a heist herself. (A tradition NOT observed by a certain serpent.) And Miss Tarantula had not-very-subtly been dropping hints about the Los Angeles County Museum of Art’s fortuitous reopening for about three weeks.

Wolf swallowed nervously as the whole group, dressed in black bandit jumpsuits, crawled through chilly steel ductwork beneath the building’s entrance. (All of them except Shark…he was driving the getaway van, and also disguised as a nun driving a bookmobile.)

Mr. Snake grumbled. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Webs, but she wasn’t very transparent about what exactly her plan was, and this was a brand new museum. They’d robbed the old one plenty of times, but the thing had been totally redesigned from the inside out. Just as he had the thought “We’re clueless,” he bonked into the end of the trail. Light streaked in from a grate above.

“Alright, sweetheart, I guess it’s all you,” Wolf said. Neither Snake or Tarantula was sure which one he was talking to, but they both proceeded regardless.

Quietly, Mr. Snake lifted the grate with his head, and it slid to the ground with a metal clunk. He was in the dead center of a blue moonlight patch shining down from a rose window. The polished, disinfected scent of marble and ancient vases enveloped him. They were in the cavernous white atrium. Just ahead was the grand staircase leading up into the various gallery wings. A quiet little security drone, about the size and shape of a black thumb drive, cast its blinking red light out onto the floor, humming to itself. There was nowhere that the reptilian safecracker could move without tripping an alarm.

“Ok, Webs, so what’s your brilliant plan now?” Mr. Snake hissed down in his signature sarcastic drawl.

“Glad you asked, big guy!” she told him through his earpiece. “Are ya ready? …you’re gonna be the bait!”

“WHHHHAAAT?!?” Snake’s furious outburst echoed all around the museum.

“Shhhh!!!” hissed Mr. Wolf.

“Who do you think you are?!”

“Snake, you have to trigger the motion alarms!” their master planner snapped.

"Why me?!"

"Hey; you guys said I was in charge! Me! Now trust me on this!!"

“Ohmygod I’m gonna fart,” Piranha muttered under his panicked breath.

“Are you nuts?! Absolutely not! I’m not doin that! And you can’t make me!”

“Oh yeah?!” Miss Tarantula laughed wickedly and jumped up onto Snake’s midsection. Chuckling to herself, she started tapping her extremely fuzzy legs at sonic speeds, the same way she used her “beast mode” keyboard to hack a vault, along the dead center of her companion's elongated body…and suddenly, Mr. Snake began to wiggle.

“Kkheh! Heh…Ha-Ha Ha-Ha! Heh…Hey! G-het off me!” he yelled down at her. He was trying to maintain his snarky demeanor and keep still, but Webs had found his ticklish spot. He was writhing angrily in all directions, involuntarily bashing his head into the museum floor. “HHHEHeh Ha-Ha! Hn-Hn Hn! St-hop it!”

Right on cue. The red lights snapped on and the blaring museum siren roared to life.

“Alright, guys, get ready; they’re coming!” Wolf commanded his team with a hint of nervousness. This wasn’t what he’d planned at all.

“Cootchiecootchiecoo……….ahcootchiecootchiecoo…” Tarantula teased Snake in her low, raspy voice, giggling as she danced and watched him squirm.

A dozen truncheon-brandishing security guards burst through he doors and thundered down the marble stairs with a terrible roar.

"Halt! Stay where you are!!"

Every second they grew closer to the helpless constrictor that lured them in a puddle of light.

“GKHNNN!! K-Heh, Ha-Ha Ha-Ha! You…you stupid jerks!! Hnuh…This isn’t fair; Ha-Ha Ha-Ha HA!!”

All of a sudden and with a violent, involuntary contortion, Mr. Snake twisted himself out of Tarantula's grip and leapt high into the air until he cast a shadow down on the charging cops, and they could only stare, bewildered, at the crooked and cackling-faced snakeskin he left behind.

The mob were barreling down far too fast to alter their course now. They all stumbled over one another as they rammed full-throttle through Mr. Snake’s abandoned skin….and straight into the almost-invisible web of patented tarantula-silk nanothread that stretched across the entire atrium behind it. They were already trapped in the net by the time Snake returned to the floor with a splat.

Bingo.

“Alright, guys, let’s get moving! We’ve only got a couple minutes!” Tarantula called triumphantly as she hopped out of the hole in the floor.

“Webs, you’re a genius.” Mr. Wolf climbed up too, followed by Piranha, and the group charged into the museum proper.

“Gah! I am going to EAT you!” Mr. Snake roared angrily at Tarantula.

“Ooo, yeah, scary; I’ll just make sure to tickle you from the inside on my way down!” she laughed at him.

Her plan had gone off without a hitch. By the time the local police were finally dispatched to the source of the alarm, every silkskreen print and multi-limbed Hindu statue in the museum was already gone. Millions in art, down the drain.

And in a bookmobile across town, there were four gleeful partygoers, popping corks and celebrating a night of revelry...

....along with one very sour snake.

[fandonnavyce]

Crossover Danuary 5 - Owl House

Day 1 - Ben 10, Tucker's breaks out of Space Prison Day 2 - ATLA, Hey, do remember when Sokka got kidnapped to the Spirit World? Day 4 - Jason in Wonderland DpxDc & Alice in Wonderland References

“That’s an amazing sandcastle.”

Collector whirled round, stunned to find that someone had managed to sneak up on him. It was a white haired girl who felt as human as much felt of death and power.

“Do you wanna play hide and go seek with me? I bet we’d have so much fun!” Collector blurted out starry eyed.

Fortunately, the white haired girl didn’t look fazed at all at the sudden fervent invitation.

“Yeah sure, you’re it!” she grinned widely. “Don’t forget to count to 100!” Then she zipped away, soaring into the air, her legs now a ghostly tail trailing behind her. The Collector blinked before giggling. He closed his eyes and started counting.

Warning long post

“98, 99, 100! Ready or not, here I come!” The Collector opened his eyes. Of course the beach was empty when Collector gave a quick scan of the immediate area. Then he levitated into the air to get that sweet bird’s eye view. He couldn’t find anything in the Electromagnetic Spectrum for miles around. He switched over to heat vision and then x-ray. But still nada.

“Oh, she is good!” the Collector praised as he soared through the sky on his flying starboard. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ “I FOUND YOU!” “But now you gotta tag me” …

“No fair, the ocean is so cold!” “Oh you think this is cold? I’ll show you cold.” …

“I call hacks!” “What for?” “Animating your sandcastle into a walking castle is totally unfair.” “I don’t want to hear that after you froze the ocean. With ME INSIDE IT!” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Listen, you can hear the ocean's roar inside,” frog crouching down next to a tide pool, Dani cupped a beautiful exotic conch shell to her ear. Hovering cross-legged beside her, Collector mimed turning a hand crank; amplifying the echoing sound so that he could hear it too. 

“I’m gonna add this to my collection,” Dani declared whilst admiring the shell, it glimmered a fierce red and spooky silver.

“You have a Collection?” the Collector asked, eyes wide.

“Yeah, I‘ve got all kinds of cool rocks and souvenirs from all over the realms. Do you want to see it?”

“Yeah, totally, of course.”

“I mean it’s back at my place, but you can come over.”

“I can?” the Collector’s voice cracked.

“Obvsi,” Dani teased in a ‘duh’ voice, “we’re friends”

“AWESOME!” the Collector yelled giddily into the bright blue sky. This was the first time in his entire existence he had been invited over to a friend’s home. “Whatcha doin’?”

Dani was currently holding some kind of hand device. It looked really funny. It was slab with buttons and a screen.

“I’m calling for a portal pickup” Dani explained.

“With that?! But what is it?”

Dani blinked in surprise, “It’s a long distance communication device called a mobile phone.”

“What, like a crow phone?” Collector cocked his head in curiosity.

Dani squints, “Maybe?” she draws out, “what’s a crow phone?”

“It’s a long distance communication device but it’s shaped like crow”

Dani shrugs, “then probably”, she looks back at her phone. “Hmm a portal should appear any second now.”

Just as she said that, Collector felt his ears pop as reality suddenly burst, like a pin a helium balloon. Suddenly, a green swirly portal formed in front of him.

“That’s actually really cool,” Collector admits.

“Yeah c’mon,” Dani led the way through the portal.

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

Collector eyes widened at the Palace of Death, Ice, and Celestial Beauty floating before him, imposing and haunting against a backdrop of abyssal Cosmic Space.

“You live here?! Are you a princess? Where’s your tiara?” Collector asked, rapid fire.

“I’m not wearing it, yes I am, yes I do.”

The Collector looked around, his head on a swivel. “This place is so cool!”

Dani looked over at the Collector’s star themed outfit, “Yeah I had feeling you might like it,” she smiled. She flew up to her bedroom’s window, up in her tower, with the Collector following behind her as they entered in.

Taking up one entire wall, were shelves of her collections and souvenirs from her travels across the realms and Dani gleefully showed it off.

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

BANG!

The door to Dani’s bedroom slammed open and Dan was standing there in all his asshole glory. Dan looked down with all his stupid height at the two little kids in the room who looked back up at him.

Dani glared up at her brother’s intrusion. W̴̡̛͍͚̳͊͌H̶̦͑A̸͎̩͇͂̓T̷̞̻͖̜͑̾̉͝?̶͚̩̍̆͊!̸̳̱̐̓ ̷̞͙̀ (leave-get-out-get-out) (anger- confusion-disdain) she silently scowled in ghost-speak.

BANG!

Gone, Dan slammed the door behind him. There was a moment of confusion and surprise. Then heard hollered throughout the Palace,

“DANI HAS A BOY IN HER BEDROOM!!!”

Dani’s face was aghast. The Collector’s was bewildered. They could hear the building thunder of a stampeding herd of wildebeests.

BANG!

“Oh look, Dani brought her first friend over,” cooed Jazz.

Danny firmly denied the sight in front of him. “No! No! You’re too young to be bringing boys over!”

“Oooh who gets to do the shovel talk?” Dan cackled.

“Sam” “Sam” “Me” Tucker, Jazz, and Sam said together.

“What about me?! I’m the Ghost King! I’m her Father!”

“Yeah,” Tucker acknowledges, “but Sam’s the scariest.”

“Excuse you, I’m right here,” Dan protested.

Sam rolled her eyes, “Yeah but you’re not gonna bother.”

“... nah you’re right,” Dan shrugged.

“No wait, hang on, I can too be scary. I can be very scary.”

“Danny, you have multiple times needed either Sam or I to correct your order when you receive the wrong one,” Jazz pointed out.

“OK!” Danny blustered. “This and that are two different things!”

“Sorry bro, just take the L. You’ve been outvoted.” Tucker rested a commiserating hand on Danny’s morose shoulder.

“Anyway” Jazz cheered, “it’s very nice to meet you…”

“The Collector” the boy introduced himself feeling shy all of sudden.

“It’s very nice to meet you, the Collector. Nevermind the noise, you’ll always be welcome here.”

“I’m glad to be here,” Collector sheepishly replied.

“ALRIGHT,” Dani started yelling, “OUT, OUT”, she shouted as she pushed her family out of her bedroom. “I’m so sorry,” Dani apologised to the bemused-looking Collector, “my family is so embarrassing,”

“You better keep the door open!”

“DANNY!”

@crossoverdanuary

[444lty]

basketball buddy - mark lee

oc name: Hak Jinae (but you can imagine the name as Y/N if you want)

word count: 2007

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

The basketball court crackled with intensity as the sound of sneakers squeaking against the polished floor echoed through the air. Hak Jinae, a fierce and talented basketball player, dribbled the ball with fluid grace, her eyes fixed on the hoop. With each dribble, she felt the weight of her dreams and ambitions.

On the opposing team, Mark Lee, a passionate and determined athlete, moved with agility and precision. His focus never wavered as he strategized each play, his eyes scanning the court for an opening. The rhythm of the game pulsed through his veins, matching the beat of his heart.

In a pivotal moment, their paths crossed. Jinae's quick manoeuvring left Mark momentarily stunned, allowing her to surge towards the basket. With a swift motion, she soared into the air, releasing the ball in a flawless arc. Time stood still as the orange sphere gracefully dropped through the net, sealing the victory for her team.

Mark watched in awe, captivated by Jinae's skill and the fire that blazed within her. The game may have ended, but a spark ignited within him—a desire to know more about the formidable player who had left him awestruck.

---

Days turned into weeks, and destiny, like an unyielding point guard, orchestrated their encounter. Jinae found herself at a local basketball court, honing her skills on a warm summer afternoon. As she practised her shots, a familiar figure approached, his eyes fixed on her mesmerizing movements.

"Hey," Mark called out, a mixture of nervousness and determination in his voice. "Mind if I join you?"

Jinae's heart skipped a beat, her eyes widening with surprise. She nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Together, they began a friendly game of one-on-one, their skill and passion for the sport intertwining like a perfectly executed crossover dribble.

With each passing moment, their connection deepened. They shared stories of triumphs and setbacks, dreams and aspirations, discovering a shared love for the game that went beyond the confines of the court. Their competitive spirit fueled their friendship, pushing them to excel while supporting each other's growth.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and gold, Jinae and Mark found themselves sitting on the sidelines, their breaths coming in exhilarated gasps. They locked eyes, a silent understanding passing between them. Basketball had brought them together, but something deeper had taken root—a connection that went beyond the confines of the court.

At that moment, they knew their journey had just begun. Bound by their shared love for basketball and the undeniable chemistry that ignited between them, Jinae and Mark were destined to create a symphony of hoops and hearts, a duo whose rhythm on and off the court would leave an indelible mark on their lives.

As the stars twinkled above, a new chapter unfolded—a chapter that would see them dribbling side by side, chasing their dreams, and discovering that the most significant victories aren't always found in the final score, but in the bonds we form along the way. Together, Jinae and Mark would weave their own story, a tale of basketball, friendship, and the transformative power of love.

---

Days turned into weeks, and Jinae and Mark's bond on and off the court grew stronger with each passing moment. They spent countless hours practising together, their shared passion for basketball fueling their drive to improve. Whether it was shooting drills, defensive strategies, or intense scrimmages, their dedication was unwavering.

Beyond basketball, they discovered shared interests and hobbies. They would meet at their favourite café, sipping on iced coffees while engaging in lively conversations about music, movies, and their aspirations beyond the court. Jinae marvelled at Mark's eclectic taste in music, while Mark admired Jinae's artistic talent as she shared her sketches and paintings.

One sunny afternoon, Jinae invited Mark to an outdoor basketball tournament in the city. The air buzzed with excitement as teams from various neighbourhoods gathered to compete. Jinae's casual team showcased their skills, the synchrony between Jinae and Mark on full display.

Their chemistry was undeniable. With every pass and every play, it was as if they could anticipate each other's moves effortlessly, their connection transcending words. They seamlessly complemented each other's strengths, like two melodies harmonizing in perfect unity.

As the tournament progressed, Jinae's team faced a formidable opponent in the championship game. The score remained tight, tensions running high with every possession. In a crucial moment, Jinae found herself trapped by defenders, her options dwindling.

Just as doubt began to creep in, Mark's voice rang out, filled with unwavering confidence. "Trust me, Jinae!"

Jinae lobbed the ball high in the air without hesitation, knowing Mark was there to receive it. Like a force of nature, Mark leapt with incredible athleticism, his hand grazing the ball. With a swift motion, he redirected it towards the hoop, the crowd holding its breath as the ball found its mark.

The net swayed gently, the crowd erupting into cheers and applause. Jinae and Mark locked eyes, a silent celebration passing between them. They had done it together, their shared connection and trust in each other shining through.

In that victorious moment, they realized that their bond extended far beyond the boundaries of the court. They had become each other's support system, their rock in times of triumph and solace in times of defeat. Basketball had brought them together, but their friendship had blossomed into something deeper—a harmony of two souls destined to intertwine.

As the tournament concluded and Jinae's team basked in their victory, Jinae and Mark found themselves lost in their own world, seated on a bench under the shade of a tall tree. The sun cast dappled patterns on their faces as they caught their breath, the air filled with a sense of fulfilment and promise.

Their eyes met, and without a word, they understood that their journey was far from over. Together, they would continue to chase their dreams, their love for basketball serving as the foundation of their unwavering support for one another.

The melody of their story continued to unfold, the rhythm of their lives perfectly synchronized. Through the ups and downs, triumphs and challenges, Jinae and Mark would face the future hand in hand, their harmonious connection guiding them toward a future filled with love, laughter, and the enduring rhythm of their shared passion for basketball.

---

In the wake of their tournament victory, Jinae and Mark's bond flourished, solidifying their friendship into something that felt inexplicably profound. Their shared love for basketball had not only united them but had become the cornerstone of their journey together.

As they continued their basketball training, their skills honed to perfection, Jinae and Mark began to explore new horizons. They would often venture into different neighbourhoods, seeking out competitive games against formidable opponents. Each victory fueled their determination, and every defeat became an opportunity for growth.

Off the court, their friendship deepened through shared experiences and countless conversations. They confided in each other, revealing their hopes, fears, and dreams. Their support for one another was unwavering, a testament to the unbreakable bond they had forged.

One serene evening, as the golden sun dipped below the horizon, Jinae and Mark found themselves in a quiet park, their laughter echoing through the air. The gentle rustling of leaves provided a backdrop to their conversations, as they sat on a bench, lost in their shared world.

Mark's gaze turned contemplative as he broke the silence. "Jinae, there's something I've been meaning to tell you."

Curiosity danced in Jinae's eyes as she leaned in closer, her heart quickening. "What is it, Mark?"

With a soft smile, he continued, his voice filled with earnestness. "You've become such an integral part of my life, Jinae. Our friendship means the world to me, but lately, I've been feeling something more—a connection that goes beyond what words can describe."

Jinae's breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding with anticipation. She had felt the same pull, the same indescribable connection, but hearing Mark express it filled her with a mix of excitement and vulnerability.

"I feel it too, Mark," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "This bond we share...it's something special."

Mark's eyes shimmered with a mixture of joy and relief. "I'm glad you feel the same way, Jinae. You make my world brighter, and I can't imagine my life without you."

In that serene moment, surrounded by the symphony of nature, Jinae and Mark took a leap of faith. They leaned in, their hearts beating in sync, and their lips met in a tender kiss—a testament to the blossoming love that had grown between them.

As they pulled away, their eyes locked, the world seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the two of them immersed in the intensity of their emotions. From that moment on, Jinae and Mark's journey transcended friendship, embarking on a path intertwined with love and shared dreams.

Basketball continued to weave its magic, but now it held a new significance—an expression of their love and dedication to one another. Together, they embraced the challenges that lay ahead, knowing that they would face them with unwavering support and the power of their love as their guiding light.

---

Jinae and Mark's love story continued to unfold, intertwining their lives with a beautiful blend of basketball and romance. Their bond grew stronger with each passing day, as they navigated the joys and challenges that life presented.

Basketball remained an integral part of their journey, with Jinae and Mark pushing each other to new heights on the court. They became an unstoppable duo, seamlessly synchronizing their skills and strategies, leaving opponents in awe of their chemistry.

Their basketball prowess didn't go unnoticed, and they soon caught the attention of college scouts and coaches. Offers poured in from prestigious institutions, presenting them with the opportunity to pursue their dreams at a higher level. With unwavering support for one another, Jinae and Mark made a joint decision to accept scholarships to the same university.

The college campus became their new playground, as they embraced the challenges of collegiate basketball. Their love for the game only deepened as they faced fierce competition, long training hours, and the demands of academic life. Together, they found solace in each other's arms, offering comfort, motivation, and an unwavering belief in each other's abilities.

Off the court, Jinae and Mark explored the vast landscape of university life. They immersed themselves in their studies, engaging in passionate discussions and expanding their knowledge. They made lasting friendships, connecting with teammates and fellow students who shared their love for basketball and their dreams of success.

In the midst of their busy lives, Jinae and Mark cherished stolen moments of intimacy. They would steal away to quiet corners of the campus, finding solace under starlit skies, their whispers blending with the gentle night breeze. Their love deepened with each stolen kiss, each tender touch, as they discovered the depth of their connection went beyond their shared passion for basketball.

As graduation approached, their journey on the court neared its end. They had accomplished remarkable feats, leaving a lasting legacy in the hearts of their teammates and coaches. The roar of the crowd, the swish of the net, and the adrenaline coursing through their veins would forever be cherished memories.

With their degrees in hand, Jinae and Mark embarked on new paths, their hearts and dreams intertwined. Mark pursued a career in sports management, using his experiences to shape the future of young athletes. Jinae, fueled by her love for art, found solace in painting and design, using her creativity to make a lasting impact.

Through the years, their love remained steadfast, weathering the challenges that life threw their way. They celebrated each other's victories, provided a shoulder to lean on during tough times, and fueled each other's passions. Their love story became a testament to the power of shared dreams, unwavering support, and a love that transcended boundaries.

[wafflebloggies]

the long con - part 5/7

a Don't Feed The Muse/Captain Disillusion crossover story. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

*

“Huh, he’s not picking up-”

Alan was interrupted- and terrified- before he could even lower his phone. As the ringtone went dead in his ear, the Captain drew in a sudden, sharp gasp and cried out, an agonized sound Alan had never heard from him before, and just as suddenly let go of the yoke and grabbed his head in both hands, doubling over as if he’d taken a heavy blow right between the eyes. Alan’s natural alarm and concern for the Captain become somewhat overtaken by circumstances in the next couple of seconds, as the shuttle, lacking direction from its pilot beyond an unfortunate knock from one of the Captain’s elbows, veered over to one side and launched into a high-velocity heartline roll, the dark clouds outside twisting into a crazy spiral against the windshield as it hurtled blindly into the night.

Alan screamed in terror, the Captain in terrified pain although if the two sounds could have been layered on a spectrum analyser there would have been very little difference to spot between them. Alan’s seatbelt was very carefully and neatly clipped on two buckles across his chest, and it held him safely in place. The Captain didn’t usually bother with silly safety devices contrived by people who couldn’t even withstand ten Gs, and the centrifugal force of the shuttle’s roll tumbled him into the air and over Alan’s seat like a bright yellow ball in a lottery machine.

With nothing else to do and every other reasonable thought that might have told him not to driven out of his head, Alan lunged across and grabbed the yoke. As his hands locked around the chunky black-and-yellow grips the spin stopped, but the upside-down-ness did not. A lot of the systems cluttering the holographic HUD were lit up and screaming, and although the view was still completely dark with thick cloud and rain that seemed to be falling upwards into nothing, there seemed, to Alan’s horrified perception, to be a lot less airiness to the nothing, as if most of what he was looking at was finite and very, very solid.

Various small bits and pieces that hadn’t been fixed down clattered past him, pattering against the windshield as the shuttle screamed onwards. Somewhere on the ceiling behind his seat, the Captain was struck in rapid succession by a dog-eared old Rand McNally, Alan’s phone, and the little plastic hula Beakman that usually sat on the dash, and although he could barely see with his hands clamped across his face, his realization of the severe nose-down tilt of the ship spurred him up, grabbing blindly upwards for the back of the seats.

“We’re in a dive! Pull up!”

“I can’t!”

“Stop us being upside down, then!”

“I can’t! I don’t know how!”

“Do that twisty thing I do!”

“The twisty thing?”

“Yes!”

“The one I hate??”

“Yes!!”

Alan, with a high yipping noise of distress, shut his eyes and violently crossed his hands across one another, one upwards, one down. The yoke span a full hundred-eighty-degrees in his grip, hit its endsprings with a savage thump, snapped back to level.

The shuttle corkscrewed through the clouds. The cabin revolved one final time like a funhouse barrel-room and returned to a blessedly upright orientation, and the Captain plummeted into the passenger seat on his head. Alan dragged back on the yoke with all his strength, and, through eyes open barely a slit, saw a single haunting glimpse of street-lights, trees wreathed in the dim white midnight glow, parked cars, a church spire looming up close like a ghostly vision- before it all rolled away through the clouds and the shuttle soared back up into the inky sky.

Alan slumped in his seat, murmuring a string of several words that his grandmother would have thrown a juggling pin at his head for saying within her earshot. His fingers were so tightly locked around the grips that every knuckle felt like a skin-tight steel ball as he tried to untense, tried to breathe.

The Captain pulled himself up and opened an eye, a glove still clamped across his nose and mouth. A thin stream of black was winding its way busily down his chin, dark against the chrome. His face- the human part, the differently-real part- was white as a sheet.

“Well done,” he mumbled, slumping back in the seat.

Alan started, risking a frightened glance away from the flying clouds.

“Oh, no. Sir, we have to get you to some kind of medical help- you’re delirious.”

“I’m not-” The Captain made a frustrated noise and dug through the scattered mess in the footwell, the litter of small objects dislodged from everywhere else in the shuttle, until he found a Kleenex. He cupped his nose with it in both hands, stemming the inky trail and mopping it quickly away.

“I’m fine, Alan. It’s just a nosebleed. Well- that, and you’ve broken the alpha timeline. It’s not a problem, I just need to take five to adjust.”

“I broke the what?”

“Oh, don’t freak out, it’s no big deal. You’re okay.”

“Sir, I am flying a spaceship,” said Alan, as calmly and evenly as he possibly could. He was gripping the yoke in both clenched hands, as if it was a wild animal that would burst loose and maul him if he gave it a moment’s leeway, and his eyes were so wide that he looked as if he was trying to grow at least four others by sheer will. Sweat was beading on his forehead. “That is, by definition, me incredibly not okay. I have very severe car anxiety. That is why I bike. There are a lot of things that look like alarms flashing at me and I don’t have any idea what any of them do. I’m- I’m- I’m dealing with a lot right now.”

The Captain tried to focus on the HUD, managing to open one eye above the wad of Kleenex, which was soaking black at an alarming rate. He reached out to tap an alert that was blinking urgently on the main holographic overlay, but his wavering index finger missed it by about an inch. “It’s a shuttle, not a spaceship, and you’re doing great, don’t worry about it.”

“Okay, now I’m flying a space- shuttle, all of the above, and you just gave me a compliment. I- I don’t think I can take much more of this, sir. Can you, I don’t know, yell at me? Tell me I’m doing it wrong? I think I’d feel a lot more normal.”

The Captain winced and swallowed, forcing his other eye open. “You know, Alan, all jokes aside, I’m starting to feel like there’s a fundamental problem with our rel- PULL UP, THAT’S A WATER TOWER.”

Alan pulled hurriedly back on the yoke. He leaned back a little easier in his seat as the shuttle lifted into the clouds, and let out a deep, shaky breath. “Yeah... that’s better.”

“Okay, that’s it. Out of my spot, go on, shoo-”

Flapping as if he was herding a flock of geese, the Captain flurried Alan out of the pilot seat and back across to the passenger side, taking the time to surreptitiously fasten his own seatbelt as Alan scrambled gratefully for his own. He blinked, shaking off the last of his disorientation, then swung an impatient hand across the console, bringing up a glowing, transparent overlay and typing rapidly, one-handed, still cupping his nose in the other.

“Don’t- don’t tip your head back like that, you’ll make it worse,” said Alan, worriedly. “Just pinch and lean forwards-”

“Try calling him again. It’s going to take a while for DRONUS to get a lock on, but there’s an array at Avon Park I can probably use to boost the signal.” The Captain pushed the overlay to one side as it began to resolve into the familiar grid of a map, twisting as it zoomed in on a tangle of long interlaced highways, county borders, landmarks, roads. He reached for the yoke, looked sideways at Alan over the Kleenex, hesitated.

“How G-force-resistant are you feeling right now? Just a rough ballpark.”

Alan winced and leaned back, checking his belt, bracing himself in the seat as he reached for his phone. “I’m gonna say… three? Maybe three and a half.”

The Captain snorted, flicked a few switches. On the map overlay, a set of cross-hairs cycled and re-centred themselves around a blinking yellow dot. “Pfft, okay. Hang on to something, Maverick. Here we... go.”

The dark clouds blurred. The bright neon bars of the readouts leapt skywards, and Alan’s stomach rolled slowly upwards to somewhere between his lungs and pancaked there. He clung to his seatbelt, gritting his teeth and shutting his eyes tightly as the invisible giant’s hand of gravity pressed his body ruthlessly back into the seat.

Obedient to its programming, the Captain’s mixtape swelled, synced perfectly with the acceleration, as the shuttle hurtled into the night.

*

It was dark, terrifically, absolutely dark. Maybe there were lights somewhere up on the road, but here in the wet darkness Mark could see nothing, not a light in the silent dashboard, not a sense of the space in front of him or the buckle of the belt strangling him across the chest. He had no idea where his phone was, or if it was even still in the car. He couldn’t see Anthony, and his own terrified breath and the racing of his heart in his ears drowned out every other sound.

“Anthony. Oh, God...”

He put out a hand and felt Anthony’s shoulder, his arm, his shirt already wet from the rain dripping through the windshield. The glass had to be broken, he could smell splintered wood and grass and he was afraid of reaching that way in case there were shards, but he spidered his hand out as far as he could, disoriented by the darkness, the tilted nose-down angle of the car. Water, metal, warmth from the dash, Anthony’s hand limp by his side. Mark tried to feel motion, life, anything, but his fingers were wet and cold and he could feel nothing except his own thundering pulse. He felt up to Anthony’s mouth and thought, tried to believe, that he could sense breath, but he couldn’t be sure. He couldn’t be sure.

“God, please...”

Now, on the wrong side of the ditch, the merciless lens of his mind’s eye was bright and clear. Locked in this breathless darkness, his body trapped and his mind running loose, he could see everything with perfect, painful lucidity. He could see that Anthony, his perspective that much less tangled up in everything that was happening- one step removed- had only been trying to help.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Mark was barely aware that he was speaking out loud, of the words tumbling out of his mouth, a breathless, weak litany that sounded nothing like his own voice, made alien by terror and desperation. “Anthony, this is all my fault. Anthony- Anthony, please wake up. Please be okay. I can’t-”

He struggled against his belt again, but the clip was stuck tight, The strap wouldn’t budge. He fought it as hard as he could, tore uselessly at the plastic and metal and webbing until he subsided, panting, his hands raw and throbbing, his heart pounding through his ribs.

I can’t lose you. I can’t lose you too.

He found Anthony’s limp hand again, and thought it felt colder. The rain was getting harder, dripping from unseen branches, from the deranged angles of the broken glass that he couldn’t even see. It had been a minute since the crash, or twenty, or an hour. It might as well have been years, in this black, dripping cocoon.

Mark swallowed, tasted blood in his throat, coppery and sour. Rain spattered down, streaking his clouding glasses, catching in his eyelashes and sticking his hair to his forehead in soaking strands.

A buzz in the dark. Another.

Light.

Out of the footwell, out of the curve of the seat suddenly defined out of the darkness, his phone was ringing again.

Mark reached a shaking hand down towards the bright rectangle. It felt as if he was moving through molasses. He grabbed, fumbled, almost dropped it out of reach. A jolt of pure dread ran through his whole body, but he managed to get his fingers to respond properly and pulled the phone to him, the urgent buzz running up his hand like a livewire as he touched the rain-spotted little screen.

In the flare of the screenlight, blue-white and dimmer than dim but brighter than a sunrise to Mark and just as unthinkably, unbearably welcome, he could see Anthony. He could see the wet curls hanging down over Anthony’s face, how they trembled in a gentle, regular disturbance.

He was breathing.

*

Afterwards, Mark found that his memories of the next couple of hours were strangely fragmented. He was convinced that he hadn’t passed out at any point, and he certainly hadn’t slept, but events seemed to fall in on top of each other as if they were cards in a poorly-built house, so scattered that only a rough order remained, a puzzle of bits and pieces and a sense that everything had happened all at once, and continued happening for an unbearably long time.

(hi, Mark? This is Alan, um, Alan Amelik, we... what? Oh, my God...)

He remembered the voice on the other end of the line, but he didn’t remember what he’d said, the rest of the conversation, if there had been one, after he had managed to answer. He didn’t know how much time passed after that, how long he spent in the dark, quiet car, held fast in his seat by the belt that had probably saved his life, listening to the voice, watching Anthony breathe.

He remembered an incredibly bright yellow-tinted light, falling across the broken windshield in a blinding lowering wash and picking out the crumbled glass around the frame, scattered across the dash, like hard specks of gold. There was a tangled pause, strange sounds and breaking branches and what sounded like a distant argument-

(don’t move them! let me-

oh, they’re fine, they still have all their pieces-

sir, you don’t know anything about humans’ pieces! let me see-)

-and gentle hands had checked him over before something with startling strength had reached impatiently across him and pulled his seatbelt apart with a ghastly crunch of plastic and metal. He remembered that, he remembered giving in to gravity and half-falling out of the tilted car onto his feet that couldn’t hold him, collapsing into the wet grass, because that was the last part that had made much sense, for a good while.

Because then there had been the spaceship.

After a certain point, Mark felt that his mind had decided that it didn’t need any more input right now, thank you. He was aware of the concepts, he wasn’t resistant to the idea that there was a spaceship, as fantastical and unlikely as it would usually have been, but like water slipping from feathers the reality and sense of what was happening failed to make any impact on him. There was another blank, eventful and an age long but completely empty of detail-

-and then the ship was humming through the rain, scudding along just under the clouds, he could see a scrap of the sky from this dark cool place that felt like the back of an SUV, that he would have believed was just an SUV if it wasn’t for the fact that he’d climbed into it and seen it hunching over him on its landing gear like a stocky, aerodynamic yellow-and-black alien insect, just like he would have believed that there was only one guy called Alan Amelik who also went by Captain Disillusion if he hadn’t found himself sitting on bristly black interior carpet behind two seats occupied by two people who could have been twins, if it wasn’t for-

Mark didn’t care, just then. He sat with Anthony, Anthony lying quiet in the recovery position in a safe flat place between a bunch of stacked odd-shaped equipment trunks with a blanket on him and Mark’s balled-up sweater as a pillow, and counted the pale lines of neon, the only light that filtered back from the controls. He sat, with the bristly carpet poking into his legs and Anthony’s hand warm in his, Anthony’s pulse in his palm against his. Someone was talking, but it wasn’t Anthony, so Mark let the noise go by and counted lines and then-

A hurried, antiseptic blank, a flood of light, a lot of new voices asking endless questions, his own low, even, monotone voice answering them. The part of him that could think was pretty astonished by how calm and coherent his responses were. Someone gave him his sweater back. Someone else gave him a bottle of water. Very little else made an impact on the bright blurry procession of time, until things went quiet again and he was once again sitting by Anthony’s side, this time in a low-lit side-room somewhere, rain pattering against the dark window. Anthony had a thing on his arm and a dressing over his eye where a shard of glass had caught him. They’d given him something, and whether for some predictable medical reason or simply because Anthony was built like a willow twig and there was barely anything to him, it had knocked him straight out. It seemed a long time to Mark before he moved, half-opening his eyes.

“Mark?”

Anthony’s voice was slow, quiet, a little loopy. He moved, squeezing Mark’s hand.

“Mark, were we... in a spaceship?”

“You’ve got a minor concussion, Anthony,” said Mark, gently detangling his fingers, pulling his hand out of reach. “Your parents are on their way, you should be good to go by the time they get here. You’re gonna be okay.”

“...Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” said Mark, trying to sound convincing, but he needn’t have worried. Anthony was already out again, his hand relaxing against the crunchy white hospital pillow.

Mark sat back. He thought he knew how he should feel, but instead he felt flat, blank, aware of the room around him and his place in it but somehow apart from it, apart from Anthony, listening to the dim endless undertones of sound around him. Faint intercom sounds, feet squeaking on tile, the rush of an elevator, voices passing the door. The soundscape of the hospital was so familiar to him from his experiences of the past year that it was hard to hold on to a sense of place and time, to know who he was going to see when he looked back to the bed.

On the wrong side of time, of his choices, of every chance he’d had to turn back, he could understand that his best friend, kept in the dark but still guided by his simple and instinctive way of reaching for the heart of things always, had only been trying to preserve a scrap of something normal.

This small good thing they’d built together, a port in a storm.

All Anthony had been trying to do, flying blind as he had been, all he’d ever been trying to do was keep something good back from what must have looked, from where he stood, like the slow-motion shipwreck of Mark’s whole world.

Mark found himself thinking of the awful winter of his parents’ divorce, how it had been like a bitter current dragging everything along in its wake, tainting everything in its slow leaden flow. How Anthony had been there for him, always ready to drop everything to cheer him up, to give him all he had, without a thought, space and normality and his own cheerful goofy comforting self. The movie marathons he’d set up, the time they’d stayed up all night watching all the Star Wars movies back to back, how Anthony had made sure to find versions of the old ones that hadn’t been fucked around with and how they’d torn the new ones to pieces until Mark’s stomach had hurt with laughing and he’d forgotten, for the time he’d forgotten, everything hard and sour.

He put his face in his hands, smelling harsh hospital soap and feeling hot skin and stubble and the hard cool lines of his own glasses, and tried to breathe, tried to centre himself. Tried to think.

“Anthony?” When his friend neither moved or responded, Mark lined up his fingers on the edge of the bed’s metal rail, speaking quietly.

“It’s been a fun trip, huh?” He huffed, a dead sound that had nothing to do with laughter, put his head down again. Anyone taking a passing glance through the doorway might have thought he was praying, hands neatly placed, shoulders drooping under an invisible weight.

“You would be so much better off without me, Anthony. You wouldn’t be here. You- you’d’ve had a better weekend. You’d be running a YouTube channel with someone who wasn’t a total-”

His voice shook, broke.

“I’ll put it all back,” he said. “I’ll fix it. I promise. Anthony, I promise. I’m never going to lie to you again.”

[mikhailwrites]

Soaring Ever Higher 1 - Ghoap/Ace Combat 7 crossover

Remember when I said it's gonna be a one shot? Yeah, me neither...

Ghost looks up, into the vast expanse of clear blue sky. To be honest, he never paid too much attention to it. His fight is and has always been on the ground. Now, he can’t help but wonder: how does being up there feel? There is no ground to support you, no cover to help you, no nothing, just you, the mission, and almost endless space. Is it freeing or terrifying? Maybe both? Maybe he will ask MacTavish, if they cross paths again...

This chapter on AO3 | Next chapter

„This is Bravo 0-7. I’m in position and ready,“ Ghost says into the com, crouching in the vegetation, trying his best to ignore a bead of sweat tracing his spine. Of all the places, the jungle is probably his least favourite. Everything around him slithers and crawls, the humid heat making him sweat gallons.

“Copy that, Bravo; ETA on Strider is T-minus seven minutes; be ready to paint the target,” Laswell informs him in her signature matter-of-fact manner.

Ghost takes the laser designator out of the backpack and mounts it on a tripod. The conditions are less than ideal; the sky is uniformly grey and overcast. It’ll be hard, if not impossible, for the laser to penetrate the clouds, and even then, there’s still a dense jungle that could thwart the attack. It’ll take a damn skilled pilot to make this work.

“Bravo 0-7, this is Strider 1 en route; how copy?” a new voice on the coms. Ghost’s eyebrow twitch in surprise as an unmistakable Scottish brogue greets him.

“Solid copy,” Ghost answers out of habit more than anything.

“Some taps-aff weather today, eh? I reckon I’ll be entering the OA in about three minutes.”

Sure enough, a few minutes later, a behemoth of a jet emerges from the clouds like a bloody reaper surfacing from the Styx. Ghost has never seen a plane like that before, all sharp angles and planes of dark grey stealth coating. It looks like something from a sci-fi movie. And right behind it comes the thundering sound, unable to quite catch up to the plane.

“Strider 1 entering OA. I’m getting a solid reading on the laser, moving up to drop the package. You might want to turn around, LT,” the pilot warns as the jet closes in on the target. The drop is flawless, and Ghost doesn’t turn away despite the advice. The jet thunders by, and a few seconds later, the whole enemy base goes up in an eruption of fire, debris and smoke. The explosion shatters the building and shakes the ground. Ghost is grateful for his protective headset because it most probably just saved his hearing.

“Bloody hell!” Ghost shields his eyes as the shock wave reaches him and, with it, the gust of dust and dirt. The worst of the dust settles in, the jet gone, up above the clouds once more, as if it was never here in the first place, a spectre of destruction. “Bravo 0-7, confirming a direct hit.”

“Happy to hear that. Strider, Bravo, you’re RTB. Get out of there before the enemy regroups,” Laswell instructs, just as Ghost is packing the designator and prepares to trek back through the jungle to the RV, where the helo will be waiting to pick him up.

No sooner than he starts to think the mission’s been a breeze, the bullets start flying. The base is destroyed, but apparently, what’s left of the enemy managed to regroup rather quickly. Ghost curses and immediately lifts his rifle as he scurries through the dense vegetation, hoping to lose the tail. There’s no telling how many are onto him, but it doesn’t matter; he’s alone, and that’s some crappy odds he doesn’t want to test.

“This is Bravo 0-7. I’m in a hotspot, multiple tangos on me,” he hurriedly explains his situation just as a bullet chips away at the tree not even a few feet from him. He has no choice but to throw himself on the ground to make himself the smallest target possible. “Fuck!”

“Break the contact and proceed to the RV!” Laswell urges him.

As much as he’d love to heed her words, he’s pinned down. “Negative, Watcher 1, I’m stuck!”

“I can turn around and make a sweep; he’s got the IR tag; I’ll see him and can provide support,” Strider cuts into the conversation.

“You’re RTB, Strider 1; do not stray from the course!” yet another voice, male, older. Perhaps Strider’s CO.

“I’m not leaving him there if I can help!” Strider 1 argues, sounding more irritated than agitated.

“That was a direct order, Strider. Return to base immediately! You are not armed for close air support!”

“I still have the 20mm; that’s more than enough! Re-entering OA in two minutes!”

Ghost doesn’t say anything, but he’s bloody grateful for Strider’s help, insubordination or not. Carefully, he turns and dusts one tango he has in his sights. There’s plenty more as another salvo of bullets flies over his head.

“ETA thirty seconds, Ghost; hang in there, soldier!” Strider says, sounding breathless.

“I’m going to have your ass for this, Trigger!” the man on comms shouts.

Ghost is almost tempted to say something at that point. Luckily, the grey war beast makes a hell of an entrance right then. Ghost’s only warning is a shout of “incoming!” as the fighter swoops in from the left and spreads some 20mm cheer across the jungle—the vegetation yields. The enemies do, too. The jet is gone, leaving an ungodly amount of devastation in its wake. Only to make a second pass from the right moments later. Strider had to pull off some serious high-G turn to be that fast.

It paid off, though. There’s not a single living thing near Ghost.

“I’m in the clear, heading to RV now; thanks for the air support, Strider 1. Much appreciated, mate,” Ghost says as he’s finally on his way from this hellhole.

#

Ghost can’t leave it alone. He wants to thank the man properly, so after a lengthy mission report, during which he hasn’t forgotten to stress that Strider saved his life, he heads to the hangar. Sure enough, the aircraft is there. Up close, it looks even stranger. Like it shouldn’t even be able to fly, let alone be capable of stuff Ghost had witnessed earlier that day. The jet is huge and imposing; short, diamond-shaped wings and vertical stabilizers placed on the outer edges of the craft only enhance the overall alien look. Ghost also notices distinct white decals on its vertical stabilisers: three scratches and a clawed paw. It feels familiar, yet he can’t honestly remember why. Maybe he overheard someone talking about it, or maybe his mind is playing tricks on him.

“Bonnie lass, ain’t she?” someone asks from behind his back. The voice is a little familiar now. Simon turns around to put a face to it. And is surprised. Pleasantly so. The man is a bit shorter and well-built, obviously fit, but that goes without saying. You can’t sustain high-G manoeuvres without some proper muscles and strength. His face is pleasant, too, thin lips curling in a smile. He looks like a father proudly displaying his offspring. Only the “kid”, in this case, is a multimillion-pound war machine. Ghost pauses his inspection on the mohawk. How cliché is that? Yet, it suits the man.

“What is it even?”  slowly, he turns back to the plane.

“An old prototype made for the Americans. They went with a different plane in the end, the F-22. The two of these were meant for some sort of museum or whatever. Got a chance to rescue one, so I did,” Strider shrugs, looking at the plane almost lovingly.

Ghost hums in contemplation. The plane looks like a prototype, alright. But whatever does the Strider even mean by rescuing it? How do you rescue a jet? And why? “What’s your name?”

That seems to get the pilot’s attention. For a split second, he looks confused, then bursts into laughter. “Aye, that’s fair, boasting about my plane, and I haven’t even introduced myself.” He walks closer, extending his right arm. Ghost shakes it, noting the firm grip. “John MacTavish, call-sign Trigger.”

“Ghost,” Ghost replies, not bothering with his name and surname as he suspects Trigger already knows. “Thanks for… earlier.” The Lieutenant nods to show his appreciation further. Trigger truly saved his ass back there. What an apt call-sign, too.

“Don’t mention it. You needed a backup, and I was close by,” Trigger waves his hand to dismiss the gratitude, looking almost sheepish as if anyone would do the same. Ghost knows only too well it’s not true.

“You disobeyed a direct order,” Ghost reminds him, having a very clear idea about the reprimand and possible disciplinary actions that awaited John.

“I value life over the orders, anytime, and from what I’ve heard about you, I think you understand,” suddenly, Trigger’s face became unreadable, blue eyes searching Ghost’s own for… something.

The Scot is not wrong, but how exactly does he know? He has no idea. Ghost’s notoriety comes mostly from the mystery behind his mask and his combat skill. Sticking up for his teammates is usually not part of the legend.

At first, Ghost thought MacTavish to be yet another flamboyant hothead. Fighter pilots are an odd bunch, all of them. Yet MacTavish seems different, somehow. As if he wants to fit the stereotype; wants the people to see him for someone he’s clearly not. Why? Ghost has no idea. There seems to be a growing number of ‘whys’ around the man, and Ghost would be lying if he said he’s not intrigued. “I do, which also means that I can appreciate the sentiment all the more.”

“Tell you what, if you really want to thank me, how about you buy me a drink? I’m parched!” Trigger proposes, and the smile is back on his handsome face.

Ghost has a pretty good idea about where this is heading, but there are not many reasons not to pursue it. The bloke is interesting, entertaining, and easy on the eyes. If he’s game, then Ghost is, too. And if he’s misreading the situation? Well, he deserves a drink anyway.

“Give me a few minutes. I’ll finish up here and meet you by the gate,” John says as he takes a rag and cleans an oil stain on the nose of his plane.

Ghost nods and heads out. The night has fallen while he was in the hangar, but the base and especially the tarmac are always well-lit.

Ghost waits by the gate, just like Trigger asked him to. However, it’s already been over thirty minutes, and there’s still no sign of John. Ghost gives it another ten before he comes to an inevitable conclusion that he’s been stood up. Ghost shakes his head in disbelief. In his thirty-odd years, this has to be the first.

The Lieutenant chuckles as he starts to the barracks.

[louwhose]

louwhose art masterlist

Instagram | Drawing tag

Commissions

STUPIDLY PRETENTIOUS

The Legend of Zelda

Zelink Week 2024: (SS) Under the Stars, (BotW) Fading, (MC) Blooming, (EoW) Enchantment, (AoL) Spellbound, (OoT) Sealed Fate, (ST) Reunion

Fable/Legend DTIYS, Idiot hair Link, Heaven's DTIYS, Twi's Skyrim AU, ALBW Rumors,  ghost link/ witch zelda, LU camping, ladye’s daybreak, lively bunch, LOZ sketch dump

Breath of the Wild

Zelda in Shining Armor (my comic)

Zelink Week 2022: One Last Look, Age, Rainy Day, Statue, Sparring, Rituals, Healing

Swords and Storms Cosmere Inktober: Puppet, Weapon, Glass, Chains, Flame, Miscreant, Lantern

Linktober: miniature | adventure pouch | boat/ship/vessel | nostalgia | secret | link | boss | storm | dream | zelda | deity | botanical

Link, Link but in a cool pose, March of the Koroks, Zelink Reunion, Zelink braids, Divine Zelda, Champions meme, Zelink in Gerudo outfits, Calvin and Hobbes Zelda and Link, Zelink kiss comic, Tebasaki Tackle, You are my Sunshine, "Pure" friends, Stained glass monster, Speedrunning a century meme, Anne AU, Swords and Storms AU, S&S incognito, Zelda pixie cut, Zelink reunion redraw, Witch Zelda, Fall Under Your Spell, Battle & Overgrown, Halloween Scholomance AU, I’m Not That Girl, Link would be best dad, Christmas zinc, link_inofficial, The Fallback Plan DTIYS, Physical Touch for Keik, Redraw, Loftwing Letters Zelink, Down Bad Christmas Link, OoT Parallels, Written in the Stars, chrsmsmsmss, Redraw (again), A Mother’s Love

Tears of the Kingdom

"BotW 2" with BACKGROUND, Dramatic BoTW 2 Link, Feral Link BoTW 2 prediction,  BotW 2/ LOTR animation, After the announcement, Ghost, After February Trailer, Journey, Save Him, B’s DTIYS, fond goodbye, Ruben’s Study

Ocarina of Time

Starting struggles, Zelink meet CUTE

Play-by-play sketchdumps: first, second, third + Shink, fourth, final

Expression meme: Link, Sheik, Golden Trio

smol zelink, Ending sad, OoT/ Stormlight, OoT 24th anniversary, 100% cannon secret marriage mistletoe kiss, Skipping Stones | Zelinktines Day 20: Meet Cute, OoT Zelink flangst, Zelink/Deku Mountain Greek inspired, Impertinence, BoTW Parallels, butch impa, wedding shink, magical girl, shink kiss, 200 DTIYS, masks, Sheik-xedo mask, fireboy and water girl, Impa drawing meme

Skyward Sword

Zelink at the start of the game, Groose on the surface hehe, Link with Nightblood, Loftwing Sunset, Sky sandals, Zelink hug, Play with Me, angy link, sweet DTIYS entry

Wind Waker

telink redesign, ocean adventures, Watery Smile, fancy goth vibes telink, recruit uniforms, telink dynamic

Spirit Tracks

Hand holding, birds, Ethereal

Minish Cap

Minish Cap Beginnings

Ren Faire Week: (1) Meeting, (2) Market, (3) Token of Favor, (4) Tournament, (5) Archery, (6) Dancing, (7) Until Then

Sousou no Frieren

sketches

Dwight in Shining Armor

Expression memes: 1, 2, 3, 4

Shining Smooch Week 2023: Yesterday, Marigold, Crown, Gothic, Heart, Wanderlust, Hero

Dwetta, A kiss like fireworks, Dwetta christmas, Baldric’s Koi fish, Sir Dwight, gotta kill this guy meme, Cow Advocate, Pie Knight, Dwetta (A2), Bald x Hexy F1

Cosmere

Swords and Storms Cosmere Inktober: Puppet, Weapon, Glass, Chains, Flame, Miscreant, Lantern

Rithmatist characters, Vin, Fancy Vin, Vin and Elend flirting, Melody + Icecream, Link with Nightblood, Miraculous / Stormlight Crossover, Swords and Storms AU, S&S incognito, OoT/ Stormlight, Soaring through the mists, rithmatist pose

Other

Hamin's Flower (Seasons of Blossom), Totally not a king Hesho (Starsight), That dallymart scene in turning red, Yona and Shirayuki, The spy family!!, Anya Smirk/punch (SPY x FAMILY), Anya Peanuts (SPY x FAMILY), Scholomance The Last Graduate vibes, Sesshomaru, TwiYor snuggles, Goblin, El and Orion <3 (Scholomance), FMAB Expression meme, Cecil (Answer Me, My Prince), Edwin, Defiant, slugs and delvers, Wonka, Volo and Akari, Ides of March, Apothecary diaries, Normal jk mafuyu, sketch dump

My Stuff

Fantasy OC???, Witch, Villainess Idiots (OCs), Mermaid Unicorn, Villainess Expression Meme OCs, sky island dragon

[facav]

Some Friendships need no Words Uttered

This is a simple crossover between Doom Eternal and Metal: Hellsinger in which two metal hell walkers cross each other's paths. Warning for descriptive violence, maybe, I don't know. Oh and there is absolutely no romance here. Enjoy!

Year 2151. Earth has been invaded by hordes of Hell. The invasion started in Central Europe, and then it rapidly spread all over the globe. All the world’s military firepower wasn’t enough to stop the demons and the battle for Earth was nearly lost. Human population dwindled at exceptional pace. Cities demolished and enveloped in organic cancerous growth that emerged from the portals that light up randomly and everywhere. What’s left of humanity can easily all fit on one mobile over-sea carrier under the guise Armored Response Coalition, or ARC, the last line of defense before complete annihilation… It would all be in vain it there wasn’t a new hope on the rise. But this hope rose from the depths of Hell – the One Man – the Doom Slayer.

Nothing is known of him. Some consider him a demon, others - a God. Many are afraid of him. Nobody knows how he looks like underneath the helmet. However, the only thing that is known is his unsatisfied rage and hatred towards the demon kind, over which he towers, regardless of their size, and dispatches them with ease…

It was the battle of the Gore Nest – a military base hijacked by the demonic growth. The city around it was devastated – the bridges collapsed, streets littered with car wrecks, blood and bile, and what were once skyscrapers, were only burnt remains. The Slayer was standing on the 5th floor of a breached building, looking down at the destruction, calculating which road to take towards the Nest. Some demons who can’t seem to settle something between themselves were running amok.

He hears a quiet footstep behind him and turns rapidly. Eyes fixed on a strange unknown figure before him. It is humanoid, winged… feminine. Caped, up to her mouth in scarves and drapes, but revealing enough to show off her crimson skin… and 3 yellow glowing eyes placed between the beautiful horns. She gestures a greeting – a silent wave.

Seeing this demonic figure, regardless of it’s shape, The Slayer was instantly fueled with rage. His eyes bulged behind his helmet, as if they were conveying his thoughts - “I will tear your wings off, rip your head off, make you choke in your blood, and rip you in half.” He didn’t utter a word, but the Unknown understood this look. She lets out a sigh, gesturing her 3 fingers as the sign of peace.

The Slayer ignores this gesture. His thoughts getting more violent: “You think that I will be fooled by a simple hand gesture? You are very naive. You should be scared of me. I am the embodiment of destruction and rage. I am the Slayer!” he prepares his shotgun and points it towards her.

This seemed visibly disappointing to the Unknown figure. You could say she was even somewhat sad? She uses her claw to scrape something into the wall and then swiftly jumps out of the hole behind her, and she does it rather elegantly. The writing on the wall said “You lack rhythm.” This little message both confused and probably offended the Slayer because he lets out an annoyed huff. Then looks after her, his mind processing violent thoughts: “I will follow you… and I will kill you. I cannot let a demon live regardless of it’s demeanor. I will rip and tear… until it is done.” And still with no word uttered, he leaps after her into the Hellish scape of what was once a city.

The Unknown soared through the sky, over the burned ruins. Carried by her wings above, she noticed The Slayer at the corner of her eye. He was following her on foot. Running in a straight line, while dispatching the demons in his way, he still kept his sight locked up, right on her. She didn’t know, because he didn’t speak, that he was thinking only of murder. He saw her as yet another challenging enemy, the demon who is responsible for the fall of humanity. He blamed her for the destruction and suffering. He wasn’t forgiving. For demons, there was only one thing they deserved… and that was death.

Suddenly the Unknown gained speed and flew ahead of the Slayer. He could see her landing in the distance. Just when he thought he had her in his corsair, the ground shook. Before her, Slayer saw a huge demon materializing. It was the Tyrant. “Now they gonna kill each other.” He thought “and then, I will finish the victor… and they will regret the day they were made.”

This is where it got fun. To his surprise, the Unknown figure pulled out a shotgun and started… dancing. Shots were fired towards the Tyrant. Violently, just like The Slayer would, but… there was something different in them. They had a different… rhythm. She was moving, dancing to each shot, and fired to each move. Soon the Tyrant was annihilated… and as the Slayer reached her, and sopped in tracks, the Unknown slowly turned towards him… and silently waved again.

He waves back, silently.

And the Unknown? She nods in acceptance.

However she was still tapping her foot to the ground at the same pace. Figuring that Slayer does not understand the situation, she points her clawed finger at her foot. This gesture made him realize… it was the rhythm. It was the key to her power. “So, this is how you do it.” He thought “You fire your weapon to the rhythm and the beat… which somehow amplifies your moves and your speed.” Amazed, Slayer thinks of making a few steps towards her so he could gesture and point his hand towards himself to ask her if he would be able do to the same… But he was interrupted.

In the distance there were explosions and unidentified screeches and roars. It was another wave of the horde and they were closing in on the two. The Unknown turns towards them, still tapping, but then looks at the Slayer, as If asking him to join her. The Slayer smirks behind his visor, and makes few steps to stands beside her, preparing his own shotgun, as if he was saying “Let’s rip and tear… in co-op.”

Suddenly they both rushed towards the incoming demons at the lightning speed, as if blinking only to catch beat. With the corner of his eye, Slayer sees her pulling out her sword and slicing through limbs, always to the beat, and he replicates her moves with his own melee. The more they moved, the stronger they became, until their hits were one-shot-kills.

In this carnage, as he was following her steps, the Slayer wondered: “How can she can do this? How can she gain such the power from a simple thing like the rhythm? How does that… technique differ from my own?” And it was then when it dawned on him that everything around him has its rhythm. His style, his speed and momentum were his rhythm that he failed to feel and utilize to his advantage. With this new found knowledge, the Slayer closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, as if he wanted to concentrate mid battle… Everything became slow and silent. He could hear his own breath and heartbeat, and in this state he felt it from deep within his heart – the rhythm. It took him over fast, flowing through his veins, merging with his blood… and just like that – he heard the music. Her music. She was, after all the Hellsinger.

He shakes from his nirvana and looks straight at her, over the battlefield. Her, now glowing bright yellow eyes meet his. She smiles with them, as if feeling what he feels, acknowledging his new found strength.

They don’t stop… they keep moving through the horde. Individually, both of them - a force to be reckoned with. Combined – unstoppable cosmic event. The ultimate pair, The Slayer and The Hellsinger – Destroyers of Hell.

And the music continues to play… and it was METAL.

~Fin!

[vifetoile]

TotK endgame

I watched my brother defeat Tears of the Kingdom the other day

Under the cut a list of what I loved and what I didn't love so much

tl;dr, the game is an amazing achievement for nintendo, right down to its ending, very well done. I just have li'l quibbles. Obviously, major spoilers.

What I loved

The torch, the GODDAMN TORCH

How do you keep descending from one underworld into another into another and then another

And then you are dragged all the way through to the sky, caught in the teeth of a bloodthirsty newborn god???

The boss battle overall was great but it was the SCALE of it--- hells underneath hells, and then up to the soaring vault of heaven--- it takes your breath away!

And of course, it's wonderful to fight alongside the Sages your friends. That aspect of the game was so well done!

And then... the fall, reach for Zelda, and you land in a pond near Dueling Peaks, near the place where Zelda's powers to purify first awakened, about 100 years ago... brilliant stuff. Beautiful.

.

.

.

li'l quibbles

We will never ever get a ganondorf as good as the Wind Waker one, will we? Omnicidal maniacs are so boring after Wind Waker's Ganondorf

Also

I knew that there was no way Zelda was gonna just stay a dragon

But somehow Zelda's restoration did feel kind of... deus ex machina

Like here I was making a "The Last Unicorn" crossover with tears of the kingdom--- "What use is wizardry if it cannot save a dragon??" Rauru did not turn his head, with a trace of sad mockery in his voice he said "that is what heroes are for"

And that's not what we got! Rauru and Sonia--- MAGIC--- is what saved Zelda, and Link was just the channel for it. In the same moment as such a breathtaking boss battle, somehow it's just a bit of a letdown.

Not a fan of Link getting his arm back, not a fan of Zelda having no memories basically of 10000 years as the Light Dragon... although I don't mind Zelda returning to a perfectly human form. That's fine.

I really thought Mineru was going to leave her sacred stone with Purah. And then Purah would become the new Sage of Spirit.

Overall, excellent game.

[legitalicat]

The Dragon of Valhalla

An Assassin's Creed Valhalla x The Last Kingdom x House of the Dragon crossover

AN: I am so excited to share this with you! Special thanks to Lana ( zaldritzosrose ) for the header and dividers, and to Foxy ( foxyanon ) for your consultation on Nordic customs.

Masterlist here!

Songs this chapter

Blood Red Sails (from the AC Valhalla soundtrack)

Summary: Destiny, divinity. Whatever it takes to bring heroes together.

CW: Titles used as a way to install fear, brushing off one's mother and Jarlskona.

Word Count: 1.3k

Next Chapter

Chapter 1

893 AD

Ravensthorpe, Kingdom of Mercia

Ravensthorpe, for a moment at least, was peaceful. Children played, reminding Eivor of how small her own daughter once was. She hadn’t seen her in four years. But she could understand the importance of such a journey, of finding oneself and properly testing one’s mettle. Though if rumors were to be believed, that was about change.

Randvi had received a message just that morning that Anya had been seen once more in the rivers of England. Already, Eivor could feel the difference in the air. It was almost like the wind carried the whispered fears of Saxons.

In the twenty years since their arrival in Mercia, they had managed to build their reputation. The Raven Clan stood out to Danes and Saxons alike by now. It was not usual for a Dane settlement to prosper so completely in the way Ravensthorpe had. Most of it was due to Eivor’s leadership. Though, it was Anya’s name that had, at some point, stood out just as her mother’s.

The Saxons were terrified of her. At first, she was called Anya the Ashen, as wherever she raided was left as nothing but ash. But eventually, they adopted one word from the Danes to speak about her. One way to describe her. The name they whisper in fear, as though calling her to them should they speak it out loud.

Nidhogg, Harbinger of the End.

The Saxons only knew that the mythical creature was evil. They did not quite realize they were equating Anya to a being powerful enough to end the entire existence of them. Anya preferred they did not know. She thought it amusing that they unknowingly gave her a power they thought only their God could have.

Hytham walked up to Eivor, who had been leaning against the entrance to the longhouse. He saw his wife look longingly at the docks of Ravensthorpe. Though she was not, this time, hopeless looking.

“Randvi told you?” he asked, wrapping an arm around her waist.

“She has told me many things,” Eivor said nonchalantly.

She had calmed a lot as she had aged. There was once a time in which Eivor would be piling into a longship and sailing off to greet their daughter in a raid. But now, now Eivor would allow a proper arrival for her. It wasn’t much to most, but it was a lot for Eivor.

“And was one of those things the rumor she brings with her a dragon?” Hytham asked.

“It cannot possibly be true, can it?” Eivor asked. Part of her could only believe that it was the Saxons being dramatic again.

But there was the fleeting thought that maybe her daughter truly was a Harbinger.

Horns sounding from down the river. People started shouting. Eivor and Hytham both started walking forward to see more of the waters. It was like their words had spoken true.

In the distance, there was a great green winged beast, as large as their longhouse if not larger, soaring through the sky. And in the river below came a longship with Anya’s red banner bearing the symbol of the Raven Clan. ( 1 )

By the time Eivor rang the bell, alerting more people of the arrival, and made it to the docks, the ship was pulling in. The crew of warriors she had taken with her had aged. Their journey had taken its toll on them. The dragon landed on a hill just to the west outside Ravensthorpe, shaking the earth all around them.

Anya stepped onto the docks with a quiet but obvious thud as her boots hit the wooden docks. Small sections of her auburn hair had been braided and tied together at the back, keeping it just enough from her face but allowed it to be free flowing otherwise, a feather of a raven tucked behind her ear. She wore a bright red shirt and black pants under her leather armor pieces. Her face held softly defined lines. She looked much more like Eivor’s mother than either of them, though her hair seemed to be made of fire in some lights, and with Hytham’s eyes in both shape and color.

When she looked to her parents, her axe strapped to her back, Eivor swore she felt the winds shift. The cool breeze that once blew over Ravensthorpe going east seemed to have suddenly changed it’s mind. It now went south, dislodging the feather from her hair and carrying it away.

“Ma, da,” she greeted them with a smile before walking over to them and hugging each tightly.

Even now, Eivor could see she was changed. Anya was much like Sigurd in the fact that she left a girl and returned a woman. But unlike her uncle, she was not weighed by beginnings of madness. She did not try to hide coughing up blood or paleness around the eyes. She looked stronger than ever, more sure of herself.

Anya was joined by two men Eivor did not recognize. One from the ship and the other from the direction of the dragon. And again, Eivor could not help but think of Sigurd returning to Norway after his travels, flanked by Basim and Hytham. The man from the ship had raven hair and deep brown eyes, wearing what appeared to be a full armor set fashioned from metal. The man from the dragon had hair so light in color it almost glowed. He wore an eye patch over one eye, the other was a light purple, and he was dressed in leathers.

“Who are these men?” Eivor asked.

“We will speak in private, ma. And with luck, all will be explained. But first, I speak to Valka. Alone. I trust you will help my friends get acquainted in the meantime,” Anya said. She motioned to the blonde man. “This is Aemond, Prince of a realm known as Westeros. And there is his knight, Ser Criston. Make it known they are here as my guests.”

Anya did not give further explanation. She merely began walking up the hill, towards Valka’s Hut.

Kingdom of Wessex

It was midday when Uhtred told his men to stop. They had been marching for hours, making their way towards Mercia.

Rumors of the Raven Clan preparing to welcome The Ashen home had only just reached Coccham that morning when they were leaving. And Uhtred planned to be there. The seer Skade had pushed Uhtred towards this goal, promising victory to fall at his feet.

Sihtric approached Uhtred, both as his soldier and friend.

"You truly think Mercia will be any better? Their king still holds, no matter what this girl says," Sihtric said. His distrust of Skade had been immediate and obvious, viewing her already as a poison to Uhtred. "We should be going straight for Dunholm. Or Bebbanburg. Even East Anglia is a better choice."

Uhtred looked to Sihtric. He had fought beside Sihtric for years, just a few shy of a decade to be exact. He trusted Sihtric, knew as a fighter there was almost none to match him. Yet, for all of Sihtric's positives, he did not possess the ability to see divine truth. Not as Skade could.

"We rest. Then we continue to Mercia. Ravensthorpe would not be a bad place to have allies, if nothing else," Uhtred told Sihtric. "Destiny shines upon this plan, Sihtric."

Sihtric only nodded, very slightly. He muttered something about deciding to hunt, that he would return by night. Uhtred watched as he stalked off.

Sihtric felt the wind once more. He had felt it all day, though he appeared to be the only to notice the way they shifted. When they left Coccham that morning, fifty men behind them, he spoke to Uhtred, Finan, and Osferth of feeling changed. Of feeling a pulling that he did not understand. Not even could properly explain it.

When he stepped out of sight of Uhtred, there was a sudden gust of wind. It caused a sway in the trees, begging them to bend to such a force. Sihtric almost continued forward, needing more space from the camp that was being formed.

Then a feather of a raven fell at his feet, a few strands of flaming air wrapped around it.

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