May 19
ULTRAMAN COSMOS FUTURE MODE
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ULTRAMAN COSMOS FUTURE MODE
OMG my first charcoal art I saw an art of a Future/Virus Ulforceveedramon years ago so I decided to charcoal art it. This kinda inspired me to do more charcoal art thingies, but work stopped me. ;w; Original art goes to the artist (I don’t remember who, I’m sorry!!) Charcoalized by me.
Five years into the future.
Albus Potter is twenty-three years old.
Following his graduation from Hogwarts with an array of high marks and an especial excellence in Potions and Mind Magic, and in the rear of a series of paramount disputes within himself regarding the career he should pursue (fueled by the doubts his father had accidentally let slip during his seventh year), Albus had finally decided to turn down the offer to work in the Potions and Plant Poisoning Department at St. Mungo's. His heart still hadn't been at ease with the idea of refusing a job that would ensure his constant close proximity to Alle. Working at the same place as his sister-in-law sounded rather inviting, after all. But he had chosen to instead follow his long-established dreams and apply for Auror training. After three years of extensive training in advanced magical combat and other elements of practical defense, as well as methods of criminal investigation, he had finally emerged into the real hazards the job constitutes, a master in Occlumency and Legilimency. Now, he specializes in Underwater Search and has recently decided to join the Poison Squad. He lives in his own quiet, little dome house in Greenwich, southeast of London, a virgin devoted to his work.
A Morning of Melodies || Scarbus
-wakes up, yawning and gazing, first at the ceiling then at Scarlet lying next to him; smiles for a moment then quickly sneaks off bed and hops to the bathroom to take a shower, intending not to wake her up before preparing some breakfast-
-nods, walking inside into the house; gives Pictor one last kiss on the cheek before putting him down; watches him run to Scarlet and slowly sits down on one of the chairs-
Not an auror's job, a father's || Pictor's Retrieval
Albus allowed himself a couple of minutes of simply standing, fixed to the ground. It wasn’t to stabilize himself after the unpleasant effects of apparating, but to look around the deserted vicinity and to try correctly determining his location. Where had always been composure and clearance of mind existed unprecedented fear, agony, and suffering of nerves. Throughout all of those years of being an auror, Albus had never been more worried or urgent. He came now to understand that he has actually never been more scared in his life. He wished for nothing but to see his son safe and well and to hold him in his arms. Pictor was being held by strong arms, but they weren’t Albus’. And they were by no means protective or affectionate. They were grasps of danger and death. The mere thought of such a simple fact engendered a very deep fissure in Albus’ heart muscles and resulted in flooding him with fury mingled with remorse, self-blame, dread, and pain. Horrible pain.
Albus’ eyes scanned the area as he slowly turned his neck. It was completely deserted, rejected of the smallest living creature or the most insignificant plant, disowned of any sign of life. Nothing rested in front of Albus but a huge endless lake which bore dirty yet bizarrely deep water. A familiar scent started to burn in Albus’ nostrils and make him suddenly tighten his grip on his wand. It was a moist rusty smell, one that easily reminded a person of poison even if they had never smelled it before. But Albus did smell it before. He knew what that smell exactly meant, and once he saw a narrow stream of a jet-black liquid coursing under his feet, he instantly understood that he was there. He had arrived.
Black fire hued with a deep greyish shadow immediately erupted into his sight once Albus performed his anti-disillusionment charm. The dirty lake wasn’t existent now, but three tall figures were, and they were standing right in the middle of the raging flames.
The air is not hot. The flames … The flames are harmless.
With confidence, which would have rather seemed like an urgent and furious impulse, he stepped into the flames and crossed them, his pathway and sight gradually clearing until he wasn’t surrounded by them anymore. He walked towards the three men.
“How amazing to see you again, Potter!” grinned one of the hooded criminals.
“You bastards,” growled Albus, a snicker on his face. “Where is he? Where is Pictor?” he demanded, his voice devoid of any subjection. He was not asking them to answer him, he was ordering them to. With his back straight, he walked towards them until they were mere meters apart.
One of the other two men scoffed. “Didn’t change a bit, Potter. This time, however, we are in control. The money first.”
Albus pointed his wand at him. “Pictor first.” He stated menacingly, his whole body rigid and motionless, except for his raging eyes, which seemed to be on fire.
“Whoah … Eeeeasy,” drawled the first man, chuckling as his partner stepped into a clearer view and pointed his wand at something in his arms.
Albus’ hands shook and he almost dropped his wand. Pictor wasn’t wriggling himself out of his captor’s grip. He was simply hanging there, completely defenseless, tears glistening his little innocent face and silent whimpers escaping his sealed lips.
It wasn’t long before the gigantic pouch of money was bitterly chucked at one of the men. Albus was burning with an urge to take action, but he couldn’t. Not with his son being in danger.
If I make a sudden unexpected move, they’re very likely to kill him. I can’t take the risk … Pictor, Daddy’s here … Please hold on ….. I am sorry … I am terribly sorry … Please hold on.
When two of the men gained the satisfaction of receiving the right amount of money and they let out victorious and vainglorious chortles, Albus took this for his cue and immediately walked towards them. “Uh-Uh. Not yet,” called the first man, raising his hand to stop Albus in his tracks and give him a lop-sided smirk. “One more thing.”
Pictor’s captor almost flinched when he set eyes on Albus’ glare.
“Release our boss, we release your son.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“Are you a bloody idiot?”
The man rolled his eyes. “Here,” he muttered, holding out a small piece of parchment and a quill. “Write the Department of Mysteries a letter asking them to release him. Now. Don’t try to outsmart us, though. Won’t work. “
Albus simply stood there, his face inches from the man’s, as he gazed at him with narrowed eyes. He was using his peripheral vision to watch Pictor’s captor from the corner of his eye.
Legilimency? Classic, Black Potion.
Albus searched the man’s eyes daringly, silently fighting his technique through his own Occlumency skills.
“Give me that,” he spoke finally, snatching the parchment paper and the ink-soaked quill from the criminal.
Albus took in a deep breath and leapt into action.
Alright. I should be as discreet as possible. I should fool them. If I insert a hidden message into that letter …. Yes, that would work. Instead of sending the real boss, I will ask them to send an auror looking exactly like him. Polyjuice Potion. Polyjuice Potion is the key word.
The man was standing over Albus’ shoulders, smirking and watching his every move, from his fixed gaze at the paper to the most subtle movement of his hand and fingers. Albus decided to put on an act.
Show him you are in complete distress and can’t type correctly, Albus. Show him that you are soaked in fear from head to toe. Turmoil. Complete turbulence and turmoil; show him that.
He placed the tip of the quill on the parchment’s surface and began to write.
Shake. Visibly tremble. Yes, just like that. Now bite your lip. Let out a shaky breath…… Perfect. Inhale. And then hold it in.
When Albus was done, the letter looked like this:
Givep oorder to immediatellyy and completelj reluice the Black Potion Organization’s boss.
However, in reality, this is how Albus had hoped the letter would look like to the Department:
Givep oorder to immediatellyy and completelj reluice the Black Potion Organization’s boss.
“Wow, mate…. Your writing really does suck when you aren’t in a stable state,” laughed the man, snatching the letter from under his hand and sending it away. “Or are you always this bad with spelling?”
After ten minutes of silent waiting, a dangerous wand still pointing at Pictor, Albus came to notice a brief flash of red light in a very short distance, understanding that they were the auror squad’s spells. Before the criminals knew it, he disapparated from his spot, apparated into the spot where Pictor’s captor was standing, snatched his son back, and disapparated once again, leaving the rest of the mission to the squad. He was in neither the emotional stability nor the mental strength to wait around and carry any responsibilities or watch what happens. All Albus wanted to do was get Pictor to safety.
Sweetie ... Don't say that ...
-mutters to himself- Pictor, where are you.....
Urgency and Agitation || The Ministry of Magic
"HOW IRRESPONSIBLE!" bellowed Albus.
"Listen ....," muttered another man named Alrick, holding Albus' shoulders and looking frantically in his opposite direction, trying to check for something beyond the Potter's head. "I must go..."
"Signals exist for warning and alarm, Alrick! Why didn't you send me the sig---"
"What could you have done?" blurted Alrick coldly.
After a few seconds of serious contemplation, Albus took a step backwards and punched the man straight in the face.
"ALBUS!" rushed another man towards the scene, grabbing Albus' arm. "Albus, easy! Since when are y---"
Albus whipped his head towards the man, panting in distraught. "MY BROTHER IS DYING, CHARLES!"
"I am sorry, alright?" he nudged Albus away from Alrick rather harshly. "But we couldn't have broken the rules." "What rules?" incredulously demanded Albus, facing Charles.
"That no aurors other than those the mission was given to are to be present on the field!" "Charles ....," spoke Albus, his voice gaining a hint of composure mixed with disbelief. "I .....," he took a deep breath, standing more straightly, before his voice was completely definitive. "I was put on stand-by, remember?" Charles let go of Albus' arm abruptly. "O-Oh ..." Before he knew it, Albus was storming away furiously. On his way, he bumped into a man and stopped him. "Mark .. P-Please ... Please contact the playground Pictor was playing in today. Ask them where they have last seen him and ...."
"I will take all the necessary action. Count on me. It's about time I repay you," nodded Mark, giving Albus a tap on the back.
"Thank you," Albus muttered quickly before striding away.