Well, that in-between state is what Sasuke would be left in after a few rounds with the Hulk.

 

Have you considered things like Amaterasu or the hax powers of the sharingan?

 

Meh. The Hulk has gone up against basically everyone in Marvel at some point or another, and that includes dudes of basically all power sets and many of incredible power. His whole deal is that he's basically indestructible (because his healing factor is the shit even if you manage to wound him) and the longer he fights the madder he gets and the stronger he becomes.

So no, as long as it's not Kishimoto scripting the fight, Sasuke doesn't stand a chance, imo. Sharingan hax and everything.

 

In the thread, someone mentioned that at one point the Hulk even walked on the surface of the sun. Is that true though? I have not read the comics.

 

That . . . would make him absurdly invulnerable. Hulk would rule the universe (or at least the galaxy) at that point.

Ancient Ogre status.

 

Depends on what Hulk you use.

But either way, the Hulk has no defense against illusions or hypnosis. Who's to say Sasuke couldn't just mind-fuck him with the Sharingan like the Uchiha can do to the Bijuu?

If it came to physical blows, Sasuke would got splattered all over the ground. Naruto would be a better match for the Hulk. Everybody seems to forget just how absurd Naruto's physical strength in Sage Mode is. And that was before he entered his new Sage Mode which is like a Bijuu Cloak fused with Sage Mode.

In his fight with Pein, Naruto manhandled that Rhino Summon with ease. Like, he didn't strain at all to lift it and that thing was easily over 50 feet in size. That's near enough 10 times the size of a normal Rhino which weigh between 1 and 2 tons.

I'm not even sure how you'd go about calculating the size to weight volume ratio of that thing but it had to weigh easily over 20 tons. And Naruto stopped it in a full out charge and then tossed it hundreds of feet into the air without any strain.

Calculate the weight and then probably double maybe even triple that if Naruto was to strain as hard as he could. And that's in his old Sage Mode. No telling how absurdly physically powerful he is now.

It's why I always found myself shaking my head when most Sasuke fanboys claimed Naruto still stood no chance against him. 1 hit outside of his Susano'o with that kinda of strength and Sasuke would probably be liquefied.

 

I'm not familiar with Naruto mythos enough to know what Sasuke is capable of. It would depend on which iteration of Hulk you're talking about. Even normal Hulk is absurdly OP, and if you talking about the likes of Worldbreaker Hulk in the World War Hulk storyline, then I struggle to see anyone beating him, even from the little I know of Narutoverse.

And yes, Xandrel, solar level temperatures are not a problem to Hulk.

 

Square cube law, if it really is ten times bigger it's a thousand times heavier.

Also I think at one point Hulk or one of the Hulks( not really sure how it works) actually does rule the universe.

 

The bigger feat is walking on something made of plasma, it is not like it is solid.

 

Nihilistic Ideals devouring the Truth
Act II - Do or Die.
​

His words hung upon the air as if time had frozen. She had the time to recognize the name he had just spoken, an eternity condensed into an instant, before cold dread washed away her sudden, foolish pride. It can't be...

Three pokémon made their moves. The warthog came down hard upon the bloody tiles, shattering around his position for meters around and ruining N's bloody art, as he lowered his shoulder and flames erupted around his entire upper body. He charged forward with a bellow like never before, either ignoring the warnings the room had already left behind or else believing them false, and the temperature around them all rose to sweltering heights.

Bouffalant ducked his own brow and followed suit, crackling the rest of the tiles completely in his thunderous hooves.

And Scrafty vanished in a whirl of shadows, leaping across the floor to perform Feint Attack.

N's cheeks twitched as they pulled back even further, and rapturous laughter erupted passed his lips. With each exhalation of delight the glow of the Lampent faded.

Then the pitch-black shadow pooled behind N's throne stirred, she could think of no better word that suited how the darkness moved on its own, and three identical movements put an end to her hope of killing the madman quickly.

Scrafty's shadow-movements were choked off and crushed into infinitesimally smaller specks, leaving nothing behind for her to mourn but his memory. The bull was skewered on a multitude of ebon lances, nearly a foot long and tipped with hooks, and then they pulled him apart into chunks of neatly cut tenderloin.

And a wave of poisonous heat so vile it extinguished Emboar's flames instantaneously and halted him in his tracks preceded the sudden double-row of ivory incisors that broke the darkness and fell upon his upper body viciously.

Within the course of a single, eternally long moment, Touko White lost three of her best partners, and there wasn't a single thing she could do to stop it. Her fingers trembled as the pokéballs rolled back to her feet automatically, now open to reuse as their cache of information was purged to the pokédex.

Her gut roiled and she didn't even bother trying to fight the bile down. It splashed across her shoes, crawled down to mix with the blood of man and monster alike. She could hardly breath between lurches, and even when her empty stomach clenched she still managed to dredge up a little acid that burned the back of her throat before it ended. She collapsed to her knees the next moment as the tears spilled down her cheeks, hands clutching the empty pokéballs before her like a lifeline.

"N-no... no..."

N sighed happily. He uncoiled his legs from beneath him and rose to his full height. "Come out, come out, little Liligant," he sang in sing-song cheer. "Come pray for me, miss Mienshao." His footsteps trod right through the mess of human fluids and stopped as he crouched down before her, left hand passing down her cheek gently. Then he lifted it to his mouth and licked the saline clean, grin drawn taut once more.

She retched again and began to crawl backwards, away, toward the shadowed hallway she should never have entered, let alone left.

He reached out like a Serperior and caught her about the ankle, yanking her up close again. I am going to die. She screamed. She clawed, kicked, fought as she had never fought in her life. I am going to die! I am going to die!!

N twisted about and rose while she flailed, gripping her around the waist with his other hand so he could fling her toward his throne and that eldritch shadow shifting restlessly. Her belt came away and all the air exploded from her lungs as she collided with the golden chair, an unmistakable crack signifying her left arm giving way from the force behind the impact, and another, shriller wordless shriek tried to form in her throat.

N looked from her agonized features to the balls swaying ominously in his left hand and back again. Her eyes widened, narrowed with panic, flared wide again in denial. "Zekrom," he repeated with that same delirious mirth, "eat."

And the darkness surged forward to swallow the upper half of his arm, audible crunching as technology surrendered, howling as their final moments were filled with terror. It was over in a handful of beats. When the darkness withdrew N's arm was barren to the elbow with a whirlwind of crimson slits dancing over the flesh, but no sign remained of her belt or the remaining members of her party.

Never relent! Something in her broke as N began to stride toward her, and Black's image overlaid the Unova Champion. What do you think you're doing? Get up! Fight! Never relent!

I can't! She screamed back.

Get up!

I can't! I can't move!

N wrapped his hand around her throat and squeezed tight as he drew her upright. "Goodbye, miss hopeful," he uttered pleasantly. "Dragon Breath," he concluded to the legendary hovering just behind her back.

GET UP, TOUKO WHITE, AND DIE ON YOUR FEET!

She could hear a set of lungs, deep as drums, drawing in an impossible amount of air. N's fingers loosened as he prepared to step back.

FIGHT!

She gasped for breath and drove one arm as hard as she could upward into his elbow. The same terrible snap echoed for the second time as bone collapsed to kinetic impact and for the first time that night N exhaled with no pleasure to his voice. She fell to her knees and managed to turn it into a tuck-and-roll, finding herself coming up beside Alder and Volcarona's corpses. The sight nearly robbed her of her sudden resolve. She trembled as the pain of her broken arm returned.

"Hah... hah... ah..." she threw herself away from them not a moment too soon, as another wave of vile heat and miasma devoured what was left of the once-Champion and his ally. A splash of it caught her left boot and eroded the sturdy leather down to her bare sole.

Get up and fight him! Stand up and fight them! Black's voice had begun to warp, straining, growing heavier and less and less recognizable as a human tone. It was borderline growl, rumbling in her eardrums, and she felt her brittle resolve redouble from the intensity behind it. Die on your feet!

When she looked up again N was clutching his broken elbow against his stomach, leaning against the edge of his throne, as a pair of vermillion slits spread open far above his head. Ivory incisors flared wide around the shape of a mouth, a maw angling downward, and suddenly texture began to appear with sparks of lightning illuminating the behemoth beneath the shadows. Thick forearms, wide wings, a heavy torso and legs supporting a colossal tail.

The joy had slid from N's face. "Zekrom," he swore with no emotion coloring his tone, "Eat."

Fight, Touko White!

She dragged herself upright as the legendary's form blurred back into pitch-black garb. It leaped, mouth spreading wide to swallow her whole, if it was merciful. She knew it would simply take a piece in response to its master's mood, and draw the agony out over precious seconds.

Will you fight? Black's voice asked. "I will," she answered just above a whisper.

Sapphire flame erupted from the pouch barely clinging to her left hip and engulfed the young trainer from toes to curly hair. Zekrom drew up short and roared practically in her face, knocking her back into the hall and nearly deafening her, but Touko struggled to her feet again, and this time the long forgotten White Stone resting in that pouch began to thrum as she stumbled forward limply.

Than we shall fight, Trainer, and prove them wrong!

The White Stone leaped before her and began to unwind from about itself, expanding, as the flames surrounding her body were drawn in and came to rest as a pair of glimmering blue eyes. White feathers-into-scales filled out a regal mane and head, flared wing-arms, a graceful waist and legs and narrow tail.

"Reshiram?" she whispered. The dragon acknowledged her with a lean of the head, eyes locked upon its other half. "Kill them, please!"

In answer, he growled equally as powerfully as Zekrom had, knocking the Lampent from their perches. The fire they provided was swallowed as Reshiram's tail began to burn like a furnace, drawing their power inward to heighten his own higher.

[=][=][=]

~1400 words.

Only one more Act, I swear. Knocked out most of this over the past hour so I'm not surprised if it still needs polishing.

I love ME too.

 

Fucking perfect. Not the themes and tone I expected, but I love it man.

Be sure to publish it to ffn.net when it's finished, so i can give it reviews and follows and favorites and stroke that ePEEN.

It evokes a sense of terror that SHOULD BE PRESENT when the antagonist IS A LITERAL SOCIOPATH that possesses the power of a god, in a literal, I own you in this pokeball sense WHILE ALSO BEING TRAPPED IN HIS AGE 6-9 YEARS!

AND THEN THE RESHIRAM ENTRANCE

god

A story that explores how Ghetsis can actually do this to N would be spectacular. A story that made me believe in Ghetsis' ethos, if that's even possible.

I mean, Cyrus of MUHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAA Team Galactic is more "grab your stomach and guffaw" evil as you remake the world in your image with the help of the gods of time, space, and DISTORTION??.

Glad you saw my request of the villain of BLACK AND WHITE and ran with it

 

Nihilistic Ideals devouring the Truth
Act III - Burning desperation.

The light emitted from her dragon's tail flourished with a deep rumble, reminiscent of Emboar's bellowing before he would expel Flamethrower. Reshiram's blue eyes glowed brighter in time and a sudden wave of heat washed across the entire room, bathing them in the warmth of the sun. Sweat broke out across Touko's flesh and dampened her cloths in seconds, leaving her panting; she had to fall to one knee, breathing labored, one eye edging closed as well as the salty fluid glistened at the corners.

"R-Reshiram... ?" she asked between inhalations. The dragon hunched forward and roared violently, snapping her attention away from her own woes back upon their foes; N's face had blossomed into a rictus of agonized delight anew as the sweat dripped from his pours. But the madman did not hold her gaze for more than a second or two; it was Zekrom that enraptured her fully in the next moments.

The dark dragon's flesh was hard and rigid, its shadowy cloak stripped away. Ugly smoke wisped up from dozens of minor sear-marks dotting its pitch black scales. The room seemed immensely tiny in the presence of those two titans, one of light, the other malice.

Abruptly N shuddered and cried out, tone high as if riding an orgasmic bliss, "I have sampled your twain powers, o' Reshiram Lightbringer, and I find them lacking; Zekrom," he paused to swallow dryly, and perhaps to gather some force of will, for his dragon's form began to bubble and ooze once more into ichory-blight, "devour your Other. Eat it whole!" And he exploded out of his throne, then, leaping across the distance between them even as she was still on her knee trying to process what was happening.

At the same instant Zekrom moved - and loomed up before Reshiram to drive its colossal claws into the paler dragon's chest. Its jaws, which had hewn through Emboar's upper body like a soft muscle, lurched for the throat.

Reshiram stumbled backward across the floor as it turned the head down, blocking the access to its throat in substitution for its face.

Stand tall and fight at my side, Touko White! Lend me your strength as I have given you mine! Pain suffused the growling voice of her dragon as it cried out for her aid. Touko flinched between the movements of rival trainer and legendary, scrambling to rise even as N finished crossing the distance and slammed his shoulder into her head. She reeled backwards, flailing, and he bore her down to her stomach to crouch over her lower back.

She gasped twice in quick succession as her broken arm was pressed hard into her ribs by the landing, the rent shards bursting up from the flesh that housed them in a splay of rich, vibrant blood. He gave her no time for shock to set in or even, truly, for the pain to reach its crescendo; no, he reached down to gouge at her eyes, slippery though her flesh was, leaving a trail of bloody scratches down her forehead and her cheeks as she thrashed beneath him.

Reshiram's howl echoed off the walls in time with its trainer's agonized intake and silent exhalation in the next moments. What was done to one now became mirrored upon the other, for Zekrom's teeth sank deep into the cheekbone until they caught. A horrible sucking, slurping sound followed as shadow engulfed the upper body.

Fingers still locked inside of her socket, jelly oozing from between the knuckles, N dragged her shuddering head up to stare at the ghastly sight he had made, to take in her violent breathing and the blood and tears welling from her sole good eye to splash across the floor.

"Yes," he breathed out, and his voice had gone husky, giving the word a drawn out menace that she did not hear around the throb of red hot pain in the front of her skull. Every subtle twitch of his invasive digits sent a new tremor racking through her nerves. Speech had been robbed in the same instant as half her precious sight, leaving her mute - and unable to issue a single vocal command to the dragon depending on her as much as she was it.

Get it off of me, Touko begged silently, gradually losing all control over her mind, get it away from me! A mixture of salt and blood blinded her remaining vision, leaving the monster knelt over her but a dark blur as she stared up at him hazily. She hadn't been cut out to be a trainer, let alone a Champion, if this was what that title meant must be extracted as toll. To be beaten and bloodied and murdered. Numbness faded in and out across her ribcage, her broken arm, but it never came to her face and the hole he had made.

And then N leaned down and spread his mouth wide, tongue darting out to lap up what remained of her eye and the crimson soaking his knuckles. She shuddered in his grip, at once from the looming figure and again as the slimy muscle probed about her socket like a Zoroak rooting for grubs in the dirt.

GET AWAY FROM ME!! Something else within her snapped, broken, by his further violation. If he could hold her naked soul in his hands, she knew, he would treat it no more gently. He would violate it as wholesomely as he had her living body, and leave nothing behind to remind the world who Touko White had been.

A faint tremor spread down her form as she rejected that with the last ounce of control she possessed.

She screamed in his face.

Her chest racked as she gathered her breath in shaking gasps, and then she expelled the noise with every ounce of denial and terror and sheer, simple outrage that her life should end as N's plaything. The strength of it made him flinch, head jerking back, arm jolted, as it rang in his ears. His grip relinquished its slick hold in her face against his desire and she collapsed down to the ground upon her bad arm again.

She barely hesitated before she lunged against his ankles. She could no longer feel what had become of the injury, and so she aimed for him with that side. A mistake, as it turned out, given the sudden encore of attention those dull nerves sang out, but not a fatal one; for the other trainer fell atop her again for a moment and he tried to break his fall with both his hands upon the bloodied stone floor. One hand went out beneath him; the other cracked violently and mimicked her wound, setting gleaming ivory shards leaden in crimson and pale white strips of flesh free. N's voice was a tremor as he cried out just one shrill note and lay briefly still.

Touko scrambled out from beneath him, rolling and tugging and lashing out with her heavy boots wherever she could to shove him aside. He rolled once and again to a stop, knees gathered beneath himself.

She had made it just scant feet before he turned and lunged after her, half a crouch giving him some greater speed. "Come back, Touko White," he breathed out in a broken-sing-song tone. His eyes were flared wide and kept flashing between his own pain and a terrible lust he had yet to sate.

"WHY WON'T YOU JUST DIE?!" she screamed again, kicking back at his chest with everything she had. Yet another terrible crunch filled the heavy air as a portion of N's ribcage gave in beneath that blow. His weight against her leg forced them down together and he landed side-by-side, practically close enough to kiss.

More than close enough to take in that awful, haunted look in his gaze, and to see how even now he smiled like a damned man brought back from the brink of death. He rasped as he drew back a breath and thrust his arm out from beneath him, reaching for her. She rolled away shivering and felt her sudden well of strength abandon her, and then the agony and the tears overwhelmed her adrenaline rush.

Fire and shadow ruptured feet away, unheard and unnoticed. Zekrom's black form hung above Reshiram's crumpled body, the once prestince feather-scales riddled with holes as an acid might make, or the potent strength of dragon breath, but one blue eye blazed on in defiance and the maw was spread in a low growl. In contrast, its other half turned a smoldering gaze upon the trainers - a smoulder that was weakening by the moment, fading, as N breathed his last, and its own jaws were clenched tight in silence.

Stand, Touko White, her legendary echoed a sentiment that must have been shared by the dark dragon to its own partner.

"I... I can't..." she uttered just above a whisper. Not out of fear, or panic, but truthfully exhausted beyond mortal boundaries. Her consciousness was slipping with blood loss.

You have done enough, then, and Reshiram struggled upright. The fire of its tail, that had all but gone out, reignited with a roar. Zekrom's own tail sparked with electricity as the shadow evaporated in the returning heat, and a single bolt of lightning shot forth - and was drawn into the dragon of truth's body, sizzling and crackling, and mending the damages done. Zekrom snarled impotently just before its body exploded into a ball of ever-shrinking darkness, until at last it had hardened again into the Dark Stone.

Touko did not see the three men bedecked in black that had brought her to the castle as they appeared before the mouth of the throne room. They studied the aftermath of the ruination wrought, first by Alder's challenge, then by her own.

One of them flickered forward to collect the Dark Stone, and vanished. One of them flickered forward to kneel between Touko and N, and laid a hand upon his dead king before vanishing.

The last of them glanced back into the hall, and the growing noise of the approaching Gym Leaders. In his hand rested a readied Master Ball, and in his head the orders to capture the dragon that emerged victorious.

The man looked back and met Reshiram's scorching blue gaze. He flicked it low and let the tool roll to a clatter against Touko's hand, a parting gift for her success, and vanished just before Iris and Drayden stormed up the way with a horde of their partners racing close at hand.

FIN?

===

Approximately 1750 words. Knocked out the first ~500 words yesterday, the next ~500 tonight, and the remaining ~750 over the last half an hour. So it's probably still a little rough around the edges.

But that, is that. So, did I do the challenge justice, MonkeyEpoxy? Are you happy with this conclusion?

EDIT: Apparently not. Ah well.
​

 

Tried my hand at this "Canon Albus Dumbledore vs Dark Lord Albus Dumbledore who joined Grindelwald". It's not good, but it's not terrible either, and to be fair it was written at 4:00 in the morning. Heavily influenced by "The Skitterleap".

Part 1:

The ruins of Warsaw had the look of a hellish landscape. Buildings magically superimposed upon other buildings in absurd angles created a sense of uneasiness that no cheering charm would ever overcome, and whatever hope he might have had of survivors was quickly dissolved by the numerous frozen corpses. They were everywhere. On the crumbling streets. Hanging out of windows. Flattened against the walls like terrible paintings. It was a scene of such pure terror that he suspected even Grindedwald could not have stayed his wand at whatever lieutenant was responsible for the current massacre. No man wanted to rule a pile of ashes.

As he sprinted forward towards the pillar of lightning, he felt increasingly uneasy about whatever foul monster would be his next opponent. Few men, perhaps a single digit, out of all the wizarding nations of the war, possessed the magical potential and knowledge for an act of this scale. Albus knew them all by name and deed, yet none of them struck him as the kind of men who would commit such massacre. Warriors and fools, the lot of them, but not yet completely lost. The butcher of Kairo had been the exception, yet he would certainly not kill in this fashion. No, had the butcher and his fanatics visited warsaw, the streets would have run red with blood. Alas, the butcher could not visit anyone, constrained as he were by six feet of soil. The cheeks of Albus Wulfric Brian Dumbledore bore fresh scars, after all.

No, this was a new threat, a new piece on the chessboard. Perhaps the chinese had decided to intervene, and by some poor choice in education and tutilage had created the monster which was sent here. As he passed a particularily horrifying scene of a young couple cradled in a deadly embrace, Albus felt the appariton wards that covered the dead city collapse. Whatever that torrent of lightning stretching towards the heavens was, it had just completely trounced the magical reserves buried underneath Warsaw over 800 years ago.
The champion of the allies wasted no time apparating, and in just two quick flashes he was at the base of the pillar.

The visage of the man he saw standing at the centre, back turned, chanting a unnatrual hymn, was the only one he had ever feared. Yet he feared calling out to the man, reminding him of his frightful deed. For when the monster would turn to face him, there could be only one answer.

 

Wards? Magical reserves?

Dear God no!

 

?Am I missing something?

(To be fair, reserves was a pretty terrible choice of words. Changed it to potential.)

 

Magical reserves/magical exhaustion is looked down upon on DLP. It tends to be often associated with stories that also have magical cores.

 

So you just assume that they can cast any number of spells in succession without tiring?!



I guess you would assume that drawing upon magic just leads to general fatigue, but that still has the problem of why younger wizards simply cannot cast certain spells. I refuse to look upon HP-magic as simply knowledge-based.
To be fair, a lot, if not all of my fav HP-fics feature some version of magical exhaustion(I am a HUGE Jbern fan), and I'm not completely opposed to the concept of magical cores either. Even if 99% of the time authors use the concept in a way that makes you want to gouge your eyes out.

Also, the second reference to magical reserves was not referring to Albus. Clarified that now.^^

 

Meh, read all the arguments etc, still don't give a shit. If someone can pull off magical reserves in a story, I'm all for it. Considering the amount of crossover, gender-bending and magic intergrating stories out there, magical cores is pretty tame.

So yeah, let up on the anti-core posts, they've been done to death already. We all get it.

 

Can we not nitpick on retarded shit like magical exhaustion? It has potential to work, and it has the potential to fail.

That piece was pretty nice, Stryker. You set the mood well and it's the kind of opening that would've drawn me in, were it a longer story.

 

If someone does the A-team Vs The Marauders, I will marry you.