Day || She/Her || Adult || Fae PLEASE interact || Reblog, don't reupload, and if I see any of this getting stolen I retain the legal right to steal your teeth. This is your only warning. Send me money for Capri Sun here: https://paypal.me/shatteredda?locale.x=en_US
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do you guys know about the internet roadtrip? right now somewhere between 500 and 900 people are collectively 'driving' a car on google street view trying to make it to canada. it's fun i recommend it
Reblogging for the commentary, and to add: there was technically one other Square-Enix character who cast Zettaflare, but it wasn't in KH/Final Fantasy. It was also a whole 7 years earlier.
The twist antagonist of Bravely Default can cast "Zeta Flare" in the True Ending version of her boss encounter, and while it isn't inherently a partykiller, she does like to cast Acedia before doing so, and on the same turn; Acedia makes your party weak to every element, so she hits you with double damage then casts a spell that should deal 5k damage or so, in a game with 9999 max hp.
Also worth noting: the aforementioned antagonist is a universe-killer. Like... the only reason she hasn't killed the player's universe is because she's trying to feed it to something bigger. That helps justify why she has access to that spell.
As for Bahamut in FF16, he's only able to cast it due to a unique power boost. Not unique as in "no other Bahamut can do it," unique as in "it can only happen once in-setting and also he needs to sit still and charge for a bit to use the ability." He never casts it again.
The best we generally see other than that is (for example) FF14 Bahamut's Teraflare, several orders of magnitude weaker. You can see it in the End of an Era cinematic, where Bahamut uses it to mercy-kill the servers for FF14 1.0.
And Donald Fucking Duck just casually whips out Zettaflare with no preamble
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The house felt... Wrong. That was the best way Danny would explain it as he approached his front door.
The air seemed thicker, a darkness seemed to shadow over the Fenton home. And just his house. A glance around his neighbourhood confirmed it.
Anxiety and terror gripped heavy at his heart, in a way Danny couldn't explain. He slowly unlocked the front door and entered the house.
It felt almost like diving into an ice cool pool of water, but not as comforting. The chill that reached his bones was not the type of cold he liked.
Heat seemed to lick at the edges of his existence. Pushing and shoving against him, but just out of reach.
A shiver ran down his spine, a familiar puff of air followed.
Danny knew it wasn't danger. Whatever ghost that was here wasn't a threat. Not with the way the house's security system hadn't kicked in.
Not in the way his parents were chatting animatedly in the kitchen. Munching away at leftover pizza and fudge as they spoke of their current experiment.
"Danny-Boy! You wont believe this!"
"We have none other than the Wisconsion Ghost in the lab!"
The heat suddenly made sense. Danny turned wide eyes toward the closed lab doors. His parents excitment only fueled his fear.
They had Vlad.
They had him, and they could have done absolutely anything to him. The lack of mentioning Vladimir Masters only meant one thing.
Vlad hasn't broken.
"Feel free to take a look, we'll be down in a bit after our break."
Maddie's words with kind and light but that did nothing to stop Danny from suddenly feeling terrified.
For the first time, Danny truly felt terrified by his parents. A strange sense of fligh or fight filled him at the sight of them.
The smell of fresh ectoplasm that clinged to them. The traces still noticeable in the threads of their jumpsuits.
Danny barely managed to force an excited smile, taking his mother up on the offer. Made his way down the lab stairs on shaking knees.
He barely stopped the scream from tearing itself from his throat. Tears filled his eyes as he stared at the scene before him.
Plasmius, no, Vlad was restrained to the table that has haunted Danny's nightmares in the past. Metal securing his limbs, a thicker, greener piece wrapped tightly around his throat.
Black hair splayed unrully against the table, an IV was attached to one arm, a strange green and pink substance inside.
"Vlad."
Danny voice shook and cracked as he spoke, soft steps leading him closer to the still figure.
Bile rose in the back from his throat, tears finally springing free at the sight.
Pale blue-tinted skin peeled back to expose the array of organs laid beneath. Ribs cracked and pulled open.
That wasn't what did it. No, it was the glowing red and orange core that stared back at him. The piece of muscle that used to protect is pulled back just the same.
"Daniel?"
Vlad's voice was hoarse enough to allude to the screaming he likely did. Hazed over red eyes gazed over at the teen. A hand twitched.
Danny couldn't stopped the choked sound that left him. With shaking hands, he tried to make quick work of putting him back together. Shifting skin, bone, muscle and viscera back in it's place.
Letting out soft apologies at ever pained noise Vlad made. Every soft curse, or muscle twitch.
Ears perked and ready to warn of his parents decent if they came down before he was done.
He hoped against everything they didn't. He didn't think he could ever look at his parents the same ever again. Not without the images flashing before his eyes, and bile rising once more.
The teen did the best he could to detatch himself from the fact at hand. The enemy that he had to put back together.
The enemy he's called a monster on more than one occasion. Right now, the only monsters he could think of were his parents.
Right now, Vlad wasn't just his enemy. He was the man who helped him learn more about being a Halfa. He was the man that protected him from his own parents, even in the middle of battle.
He was the only other Halfa in existence.
He was his God-Father.
Even if Vlad hissed at the touch, Danny coated the incisions in a layer of ice. Ensuring there would be no concern of spillage once he moved him.
Next, the restrains were removed. Following was the removal of the IV.
Summoning all his strength to hold up the limp body of Vlad against him. Brain trying to figure out the next course of action.
"Home."
The word was so soft and broken, without his enhanced hearing, Danny was sure he would have missed it.
It felt like ages, yet not long enough before Danny found himself at Vlad's mansion. Laying him down in the first bed he found.
Watched as the ice melted away into steam, Vlad's core finally kicking in to take over. More smoke rose as the skin at the incision mark bubbled and reddened. Burning together and closed.
Danny quickly gathered an ointment Vlad had in his bathroom medicine cabinet, likely to help their ghostly nature. Along with a damp towel, bottled water, and a prescription for high-dose pain medication.
He made quick work at trying to help Vlad get more comfortable. Trying to be as gentle as he could, still apologizing every time Vlad made a noise of pain and discomfort.
The aggressive heat Danny felt before had give way, leaving being a soft warm feeling of a camp fire. Vlad's eyes flickered open and closed, trying to watch Danny despite the exhaustion that pulled at him.
Moments blurred together, and Danny wasn't sure when Vlad reverted back to human form. The shift made Vlad look all the more like a victim of monsters than when he had the inhumane touches.
Danny couldn't pull himself from Vlad, staying right by his side as he softly wiped sweat from his forehead, and held his hand.
Despite everything Vlad has put him through, Danny couldn't leave him. Not like this. Not now. Not ever.
"Thank you, Little Badger."
Danny swallowed against the lump in his throat, squeezing the hand he held as tears leaked from Vlad's blue eyes.
Exhaustion seemed to finally win the battle, Vlad settled into medicated sleep. Danny whispering a promise that he wasn't going anywhere.
Because he wasn't.
There was no way in hell that Danny was going back home. He couldn't. It didn't matter if his parents might never do this to him if they ever found out.
What matter was that they actually did it. After all the talk, and threats for years, they finally actually did it.
They held a ghost defenseless and trapped, and cut him opened. Reveled in it. They had been bursting with pride and excitment at their work. Fear and disgust slowly gave way to anger.
He was never going back.
And he'll be damned if he let them get their hands on Vlad once again.
Danny makes a mistake. Or maybe he struck gold. Depending on the perspective you were looking through.
It starts one night when Sam, Tucker, Danny, and Jazz get together for a private party on Tucker's birthday. Mr. and Mrs. Foley had let them have the whole house to themselves on the agreement that it would only be the four of them. They would be keeping an eye on the security camera and motion detectors around the property. At the slightest hints of Tucker having a house party, the pair would return from Mr. Foley's sister's house to shut it down.
The group of teenagers were more than happy not to invite anyone. It's not like anyone would show- at least not with good intentions. They had an entire night plan- coffee drinks based on their types, video games, boardgames ones, painting hour, karaoke, movies, and cake after presents.
They all pitched in for pizza, and Sam offered to buy everyone breakfast in the morning. The party started at four and would end at ten the following morning. The boys would sleep in Tucker's room while Sam and Jazz crashed in the guest room together.
Danny hadn't had that much fun in such a long time that he didn't even shy away from Sam's video camera while singing. The youngest Fenton has always had a fantastic singing voice, but his stage fright has stopped him from showing off his skill in front of anyone who was not close friends or family.
The following morning, while eating at Tucker's favorite breakfast restaurant, Sam checked her phone after noticing all the buzzing. Danny could catch her face turning pastly white at whatever was on her screen. She taps aggressively, nearly frantically, which gains the attention of Tucker and Jazz.
"Sam? Everything good?" Jazz asks gentely.
"I..no..I'm sorry, Danny," She whispers after staring hopelessly at her screen. "I meant to save it in our private share, not...the anonymous one."
"What?"
"I...post poetry anonymously on this voice website. It's audio recordings only." She explains, placing the phone on the table. Her voice is hesitant. "Last night....I accidentally posted the video of you singing from the Karaoke machine I saved. The one from the Realms. And some of my followers saved it and shared it. It's trending."
Danny feels his stomach drop into his legs. "What?"
"No one knows who you are!" Sam blurts as Tucker quickly pulls out his own phone. A few seconds later, Danny's voice blares out of his speaker, the melody blending well with his singing. The Karaoke has a recording option that deletes background noise, making it far more professional than four teenagers dancing around the Foley's coffee table.
"Dude, this sounds amazing," Tucker says after a moment. "I can't believe I finally have a recording of your singing. Just look at these comments!"
The song is an open domain in the Infinite Realms, telling the tell of the first King's fall. It's rather popular for its revolutionary themes and near musical lyrics that blended with the rapid flute melody, so finding a ghost willing to share a Karaoke version took nearly no effort. People online think Danny was the songwriter.
The song on Sam's page had ninty-thousand listens, with just as many downloads- each download places ten cents in her account. So far, Danny's singing has made nine thousand dollars. It's only been twelve hours!
It got so much traction because Damian Wayne had made an edit with a popular anime and posted it on his personal account. His small usage had exploded Danny's song in only a few hours.
"Take it down!" Danny hisses, slapping a hand over Tucker's screen and glancing at nearby tables. "Sam, please take your post down."
"I did! I swear! But it's too late to stop it from spreading on the WorldClip." She tells him, and Danny's heart feels like it will explode until Jazz gently speaks up.
"Sam, can Danny have those nine grand?"
His best friend blinks momently, thrown by the question before she nods, "Of course! It's his money."
"Hmm." Jazz taps her fingers under her chin before turning Danny's face towards her. It's not until her gentle pats on his back that he realizes he is hyperventilating. "You should post more on that anonymous website. Sam can write the songs, Tucker can make the music, and you can sing."
"What!?" He choked, shocked she would even ask him. Tucker and Sam are eyeing them with wide eyes, frozen in their seats. No one knew where the fear had come from, but the two knew how badly Danny reacted to the idea of performing.
Tucker first met Danny when the boy panicked in the music room. After it was announced, the students would be singing Twinkle Little Star in the first grade. It was the first time Tucker had ever called nine-one-one, too.
He was praised as a hero, while Danny was scolded for overreacting. Tucker had held his hand until the sobbing boy's parents came to pick him up and has never left his side since.
"Danny, this fear has always left you in shambles. I think it would help you. This could be a form of exposal therapy," She says, then shrugs her shoulder. "Think about it. No one will know who you are, but your music could reach thousands without you ever having to show your face. You could pay for the college you wanted to go to in Gotham this way. All of you."
Neither Danny's nor Tucker's parents could afford to send them to Gotham University despite it being their dream school. Sam's parents refused to pay for a "useless" degree such as Botany. They had been growing uneasy with the realization dreams were not always promised as the end of the senior year approached in only a few short months.
They would never ask it of him, but Danny could see the genuine hope tucked in their eyes as they waited for his response. He licked his lips, feeling his heart still beating a mile a minute under his rib cage.
He didn't like being this paralyzed by an irrational fear. He also really wanted to help them reach their dreams.
So Danny opens his mouth and whispers, "Only until we can get to Gotham to find jobs"
A few months later, Damian practically runs Tim over in his rush to connect to the game room's surround system. Jon is hot on his heels and has the decency to shout an apology as the pre-teens rush by.
"Hey! Watch it!" He still screams at their backs, irritated. "I could've dropped my croissant!"
"Sorry again Tim!"
"You're fat anyway, Drake!"
Tim rolls his eyes, adjusting his hold on his plate as Dick rounds the corner that the children had appeared from. "What's got them rushing?"
"Online Siren just dropped a new song." Dick laughs. "Dami is a bit of a fan."
"Online Siren?"
"That's right, you were in space for five months. Online Siren is this anonymous singer that everyone is going crazy over on the internet. He's an amazing singer, but because no one knows anything about him. Not even Babs."
Tim raises a brow. "He could be using autotune."
"Maybe, but Tim, I'm telling you. Listen to his music, and you'll find you can't stop. Siren is a fitting name."
"He can't be that good," Tim mutters, following his eldest brother into the game room, where Damian and Jon have blared the speakers to the loudest setting and dancing around.
Tim draws up short at the sight of Damian Wayne actually crying as he sings along to the lyrics, acting as if the singer was right there in front of him and he was a long-time fan.
Then, the music invades his ears, and Tim feels like he is ascending on a different plane. The smooth, near silk-like voice glinds into his chest, rattling his bones, and his knees shake when the man holds a soft, seductive "Oh" for a few seconds longer then necessary.
It sends shivers down his spine.
"What is this!? It's so good!" He screams at the dancing Dick, who laughs.
"I know, right!?"
"It's too good. I think this is a real siren." Tim continues, pressing his hands over his ears. His mind flashes back to the few months he spent with his team, running for a mind-controlling alien that had nearly trapped them in the third space sector. "Dick, we're in danger! Get around from the speakers! Mind control!"
Dick stops dancing with a sigh, muttering under his breath as Tim rushes to the control panel of the speaker system. As soon as he slams it off, Damian releases a screech of an angered cat and launches at him, demanding his music back. Jon flouts nervously on the side as the two youngest Waynes brothers roll on the ground, yelling insults and taking dirty shots.
"I wish I could enjoy things with my siblings without them ruining it." He mumbles, striding forward to break up the fight, only to scream when Tim pulls out pepper spray, yowling like a madman.
"Mind control! Mind control!"
"My EYES! "
"Drake, stop!"
"You'll never get me Siren! Never!"
".I'm going to go get Mr.Wayne!"
"Make haste, Jon! Bring my father to stop this baffoon-my eyes! Drake, you bastard!"
But it felt so real. No I swear, I saw you, and Dami, and even Celine- and then after the mirror, I guess I woke up here? A concussion doesn’t make dreams THAT vivid, does it? But…
… no, it had to have been a dream. Reality doesn’t work like that. And you wouldn’t be here if it were, would you?
I… I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. To be honest, I’d never gotten to meet her outside of that… whatever it was. Funny what the mind constructs from a photo or two, right?
Perhaps I need to lay down again. I think I must be seeing and hearing things.
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Bruce walks into the kitchen one day at breakfast and sticks a golden star right on Dick’s forehead.
Silence overtakes all of his kids as they stare incredulously because what the actual fuck??
“B?” Dick questioned warily, going crossed eyed as he tried to stare at the star in his forehead.
“Congratulations Dickie, you have successfully made only five death threats to individuals this entire week.” Bruce said solemnly, patting Dick on the head before turning to face his other children.
“Unfortunately, I will not be giving out any more gold stars.” Bruce’s eyes gazed at his children, particularly staying on Jason and Damian for a second longer than anyone else’s.
“Wha-? What about me??” Duke protested, throwing down his fork, a small splatter of syrup splashing onto the new wood varnish.
Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Duke, I’m Batman.”
“Right.” Duke muttered, slumping back down in his chair. “Stupid pickpocketers, next time I’ll make sure they can’t squeal.”
“Father! I demand a recount!” Damian’s chair squeaked loudly as he shot up from it, his small face set in a stubborn frown so similar to Bruce’s. “Grayson made two death threats to thugs on patrol yesterday.”
“Fucking tattle tale!” Duck hissed, grabbing his forehead and scampering away from Bruce, just in case he tried to take away his good star.
Bruce nodded and looked thoughtful. “Hmm, seven death threats… I’ll allow it. However, seven has become the cap in order to get a gold star.”
“One for everyday of the week!” Jason grinned, his eyes zeroing in on a barely awake Tim. “And since I’m long past the threshold…” Bruce slapped him on the back of the head, making him curse.
Cass tugs on Bruce’s sleeve and points to herself, the silent question very loud. “No Cass, your whole existence is a threat but also Stephanie likes to talk.”
Cass clicks her tongue and sits back down, phone already in hand, probably texting Stephanie about her betrayal.
“Looks like Dick is winning.” Bruce stated, suppressing a smirk as all of his kids heads whipped around and stared at him. Of course they would take the bait, there were as competitive as he was.
Even Tim now looked mostly aware of what was happening.
“It’s a new week, good luck.” Bruce nodded, walking out of the dining room, a grin breaking out across his face as the room erupted with noise.
But it felt so real. No I swear, I saw you, and Dami, and even Celine- and then after the mirror, I guess I woke up here? A concussion doesn’t make dreams THAT vivid, does it? But…
… no, it had to have been a dream. Reality doesn’t work like that. And you wouldn’t be here if it were, would you?
Where are the rest of our friends anyways? Perhaps a take two of the party is in order to er... calm things. It seems there are some of us who are still a bit on edge from the accident.
- DayTheMagpie
Scampered off to who knows where. Likely all back home, though. Let's set up a day for it, hm? We should sit, and take down a date on a calendar. What say you, hm?
I would never pardon the pun, I quite adore it. We'll see when our friends can return, another reunion is certainly due. Perhaps without so much candy this time, I would say.
Oh but Will LOVED it, you can’t deny the poor man his sugar! Perhaps a few less drinks instead? To cut down on the headaches. Really now, you’re scrambling your own words into an outright puzzle… are you certain you’re alright?
Where are the rest of our friends anyways? Perhaps a take two of the party is in order to er... calm things. It seems there are some of us who are still a bit on edge from the accident.
- DayTheMagpie
Scampered off to who knows where. Likely all back home, though. Let's set up a day for it, hm? We should sit, and take down a date on a calendar. What say you, hm?
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the nether is terrifying because it is hell and monsters live there who want to hurt you. however, it gets even more terrifying when you think about Intentional Game Design. a world where you'll die if you try to sleep. you could get stuck there, growing wearier and wearier, until your eyes start to blur with the waves of heat rising from the earth. when you cave in and lay your head to rest the ground will explode. the souls trapped in the dirt will scream with you. you will never be heard. this world will rip you apart for the crime of being human. you cannot win. you cannot rest now. there are always monsters nearby.
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