#she's the only champion (to my knowledge at least) to have had ANY sort of ability to communicate with someone who wasnt link after their

[alistairlowes]

part 2 of me doing a live reread of aouv giving everyone reason to block me

"Don’t be scared, Alistair told himself in real life, walking through the woods the first night of the tournament. What else could they take from you?"

noo. the answer is nothing wow

*

"There was more to the Grieve champion than this town had chosen to see. Though, admittedly, Alistair had forgotten his name, too."

help i forgot he does that

*

i love how all characters are like we can't trust alistair he's probably up to some evil shit. and then you switch to alistair's pov and it's like "alistair was crying himself to sleep"

*

honestly alistair x isobel is a serve. but 2nd book is still bigger serve

*

“There’s only one bed,” she pointed out.

“Plenty of floor.” His voice was strangely high.

*

isobel: ok goodnight

alistair: goodnight... also wanna hear about my childhood trauma?

*

"Maybe Isobel’s mother had been right about Alistair. Maybe he was unstable."

GIRL CONSIDERING HIS FAMILY HE TURNED OUT FINE

*

“I really am sorry for how I … for who I am.”

*

gavin:

*

The Grieve let go of Alistair, and Alistair crumpled gracelessly in the dirt. “Crawl there, Lair.”

“Fuck yourself, Castle.”

REAL

*

The only thing worse than making another champion your enemy is making them a friend.

alistair who first made one his girlfriend then another his boyfriend

*

"lt was impossible to enter it and feel anything less than royal.

“What a dump,” Alistair muttered behind her,"

😭😭😭

*

"Isobel didn’t like the idea of abandoning Alistair with Gavin."

IT'S FUNNY

*

alistair tripping / falling / running into things every chapter 😓😓

*

“Really, Grieve,” Alistair purred, his voice lingering on the last word with obvious disdain. “What could I possibly have to be afraid of?”

“I have a first name, you know.”

Alistair’s gaze dropped to the spellboard.

“You don’t know my name, do you?”

*

"He’d always known Alistair was dangerous. But he’d never had the chance to see how sad he was. It was unmistakable, in the lines of his profile, in the way his hand desperately gripped the bottle.

What right did he have to be sad?"

there is....so much... so fucKING MUCH

*

"He tried to remind himself that Alistair would always be a Lowe, and Gavin couldn’t—wouldn’t—let himself feel anything but hatred for him. Not when it was too easy to wonder if it had ever really been hatred at all."

oh my god i don't remember this at all i thought it was in the 2nd book THE BITCH WAS SO FAR GONE. like he was there he was- HE WANTS TO KILL YOU GAVIN FOR FUCKS SAKE

*

every character when alistair starts trauma dumping after 2 mins of conversation:

*

"But one conversation with his supposed mortal enemy and his guard was already down. Was he really this desperate for validation?

Or was it just because that attention was coming from Alistair Lowe?"

GAVIN BESTIE I LITERALLY- I CANNOT

*

"But as he sat there, beside the mead he refused to drink, he couldn’t avoid the newfound knowledge that Alistair was more boy than monster—despite how much both of them pretended otherwise."

shut uppp

*

"No one in here is a hero—least of all you.”

explains the ending

*

"And they could call it what they wanted, but Briony knew what they really were.

Villains. All of them."

girl please we reaching

*

"But drinking last night with Alistair, things had gotten all muddled."

gaVIN

*

"Even high magick has its limits: it can’t bring back the people who died for it."

oh time to cry </3

*

"I thought I belonged in this story, but I never did. So maybe it’s time to take myself out of it.”

and she took that literally

*

"Briony, who’d fashioned herself into some sort of hero when she had more blood on her hands than any of them."

i mean... for now... alistair has entered the chat

*

“You know what I think, Grieve?” Alistair countered. “You’re just upset that I’m not the villain you imagined I would be. Slaying me was supposed to be your ultimate act of victory. But I’m not your monster. Or your trophy.”

300 dead 2948 injured

*

"but Gavin couldn’t let Alistair get that close to him again."

oh yeah that will turn out well

*

HENDRYYY ❤️❤️❤️

*

"He’d lost Hendry once—he couldn’t lose him again."

*

"Alistair was now the sun, and Hendry the shadow."

gavin-

*

"Alistair Lowe, first and foremost, was dangerous."

no if people died that's on them he did nothing wrong ever

*

“Why did you kill her?” she asked.

omg leave him alone

*

“I don’t want you to die, Al,” Hendry told him. “I don’t want you all to die trying to save me.”

oh i'm fine. all is perfect. not going insane at all.

*

i hate how they're all like you would pick your brother over all of us. i mean... yeah?? as he should??? what the fuck 😭

*

"Briony understood suddenly that both of them were only trying to save the people they cared about, in the only ways they knew how."

yeah no shit???

*

“She saved herself.”

another win for feminism

*

"It didn’t matter if the tournament was breaking or not, if Isobel loved him or not. No one could take Alistair’s brother from him a second time. He would rather die with Hendry than lose him again."

AND HE SHOULDN'T I CAN'T BELIEVE SHE DID HIM LIKE THAT

*

this is the worst breakup ever </3

*

every time gavin is like yes i will go kill alistair now i'm like sure you will baby ofc ♡♡ nevermind you will do the most opposite thing you can but k

*

"When the two brothers—the discarded and the broken—returned home, they did so with cursestones in their pockets and wrath in their hearts."

good. fuck them up

*

alistair about to murder his whole family

me: you're doing amazing sweetie 🥰💕

*

onto book 2

#val reads #aouv #if i put this much effort into my final i'd graduate by now #once again this is for me #all of us villains

[katisconfused]

Distorted Reflections

So, I posted a short fanfic for PLA recently and mentioned a couple times that I was working on another (that I started before the other one) and I have finally finished it and started posting it to Ao3.

I made a bunch of comics earlier, that were a series of not really connectable scenes of choices I wished the game would have let me make, this fic is basically adapting them, plus a great deal more that wouldn’t make sense without more context, into an actual story, so if you enjoyed those maybe you’ll enjoy the fic. I thankfully found someone to help proofread it so it shouldn’t be held back too much by my having poor language skills lmao. I will be including art but there was far too much of it to make a full comic.

First chapter + added picture under the cut

  2 | 3 | 4 | 5

Prologue 

It was near impossible, not feeling cursed when you had spent almost three decades of your life trying to make the most responsible choices in life, only to have it blow up in your face. Astrid had lived a life of half-hearted attempts, trying to make something of herself that never paid off. All she found herself doing was aiming for ill-fitting goals that suited her about as well as a box of secondhand clothing from a donation bin. She always bitterly wondered if paths she hadn’t taken would have gone better in the end. Astrid never managed to find anything she had both the opportunity and skill to accomplish.

Today, she was grasping at straws for her latest career attempt, combining her few limited skills regarding autobody with her only viable connection, which mostly amounted to a friend that was too good to her, and graced her with too much pity . At least in this case, she was just slow, and not directly incompetent. Currently, she was working on a custom Jeep, brandishing a pearlescent, white-adorned body with golden accents. This prototype sported depictions of the Creation Trio and Arceus from actual ruins, and in Astrid’s eyes, this was quite frankly her greatest masterpiece. Sure, it would be wrecked from use before long, but that just came of the job. She might have been abysmal at schoolwork, and took classes on niche things she couldn’t make use of directly, such as art and mythological history, but she was intent on getting something useful out of all the money it had cost her.

“Can you grab the heat lamp, Jim? Cynthia will probably be here to check the final product soon.” The old Luxray that the shop kept around for assistance with electrical work meowed in response, and set about dragging the lamp over to her.

“Actually, I got here a little while ago, but I didn't want to interrupt you.”

Astrid spun around to face the champion, who was leaning against a work table behind her. “I knew you'd do a good job. I was right to go to someone with knowledge of what they would be painting.”

Astrid blushed. “You're too kind. Honestly, I needed a lot of help with the parts, but that’s likely due to the fact that I'm still a novice... I wish I had figured out that I wasn't any good at school sooner. 'I'm a jack of all trades, but master of none.'” She sighed.

“It's not too late; you still have time.” Cynthia remarked with a soft smile, one that refracted a delicate sort of reassurance. “Have you put any thought into a Pokémon training license either?”

Astrid laughed bitterly at the mere thought. “At my age? When most people start as children? The whole system was set up around that, you know. I'm way too far behind to be successful.” Being a Pokémon trainer was one of the many paths she regretted not taking to begin with, and it showed. Cynthia knew that well, and still tried to nudge Astrid towards trying it out anyway. But she and Astrid were different.

Astrid had no talent.

“How about we have a little battle? You know, simply for fun?” Cynthia clapped her hands together and smiled, as if she was proud of her own self-proposed idea.

“Me? Battle you? I don't think that would last all that long; after all, what Pokémon would I even use?” Astrid pointed out firmly with a shake of her head. However, she was broken off from further argument as Jim pawed at her leg, practically volunteering himself without needing his own words; the now-retired veteran of the shop owner's own attempts at challenging the Pokémon League seemingly was itching for another chance at action. Astrid sighed again. She didn't want to ruin his fun, after all, regardless of her own doubts. “Fine. I'll give it a shot.”

She could hardly get the words out before Cynthia had already sent out her signature Spiritomb. Its reaction to Astrid was... odd. “Oh? You seem pretty fired up to battle Astrid, Spiritomb.” Cynthia remarked in a teasing manner. “You sense some potential with her, too?”

Astrid could only roll her eyes. It still all felt like a big joke.

They headed outside to the mostly empty lot to avoid damage. Spiritomb launched a Shadow Ball attack towards Jim, who managed to dodge quite well in spite of his advancing age. “All right Jim, counterattack with Play Rough!” Astrid called out, to which the agile Luxray managed to catch the Spiritomb off guard and land a crit in response, only to be taken down by a Dark Pulse attack directly after due to his close and dangerous proximity. Astrid winced at the seemingly easy defeat, and moved to instead comfort the Luxray for his efforts. “You did great, buddy. You should be proud.”

“You did good as well, though.” Cynthia interrupted, handing Astrid a Max Revive to get Jim back to full comfort and health.

“Nah, I just got lucky. And besides, Jim is the experienced one here. Not me.”

“Strong pokemon have never guaranteed victory against me.” Cynthia retorted. “You should really rethink that license. At least find yourself your own partner. Things have been... dangerous around here lately, you know. You need to be able to fend for yourself, Astrid.”

Astrid contemplated that. It was true she was hearing more and more about some up and coming group ( Team something... Galactic maybe? ) causing trouble, but she couldn't imagine she was really notable enough to be targeted by people like that. Not right now, anyway. She laughed it off. “I'll be perfectly fine, I think. After all, I have a god watching over me.” Cynthia's face was still concerned and unconvinced, however, and it was anything but hard to miss.

“...Ahem. Anyway.” Astrid said, changing the subject. “I still have to add a clear coat over this, but it should be ready in the morning.”

“Excellent!” Cynthia exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “I look forward to it. See you tomorrow. Oh, in fact, why don't we have lunch afterwards? I just got back from surveying some ruins and would love to talk to you about them.”

Astrid broke into an enthused smile; one of her few useful qualities was being able to give Cynthia a somewhat engaging conversation about her special interests. “It's a date.” Partially, that was intended as a bit of a lighthearted joke, but she knew it would be taken as it was silently intended as well. Cynthia knew her well.

Cynthia waved goodbye and left Astrid to finish up her work for the day. Jim retreated back to his designated living area behind the shop to call it a night as she put all the supplies away. Astrid began locking up afterwards, unable to stop from grinning stupidly about that.

She had a date with the champion . Giratina must be working overtime to bless her today .

Astrid had honestly taken the long dissolved faith towards it as something to jokingly play around with as a teen, but after too many blessings to be coincidence, she had become surprisingly faithful to the forgotten and disregarded god. Maybe one day, it would grant a bit larger of a blessing upon her. Though… Perhaps she was simply sounding greedy now.

She doubted Cynthia had that kind of interest in her, but it was still an enjoyable thought. One so distracting, in fact, that Astrid didn't notice when she was leaving the shop that she wasn't alone.

“Oh, someone is still here?” a voice proclaimed from behind her.

Out of the shadows came two people with repulsive, teal bowl cuts, a Skuntank and Toxicroak not far behind. “Is it true that you have the champion's personal vehicle here?”

Astrid's eyes narrowed. “What is it to you?”

“We were thinking of… making some modifications ourselves; I'm sure she'd get a real bang out of them." A ghoulish smile crossed the first one's lips as they spoke. Astrid suddenly realized that there was something potentially "special" about her that might be worth targeting, and that this was exactly what Cynthia had feared.

She popped the trunk of her car behind her and pulled out a torque wrench. There was one more thing that was unique about her, and why she felt safe without a partner pokemon. She clasped her hands together. “...Giratina, I beg of you: please protect me.” The glyph tattoo on her right arm began to faintly glow red, and she readied herself.

The Toxicroak came at her, and she rolled out of the way before simply shrugging it off to its trainer's surprise. The trainer was even more surprised when she used the momentum of the roll to make a direct hit on them with the wrench, docking them across their face with a sickening crack. A lone human in a Pokémon battle didn't have the luxury of holding back, and Astrid was no champion or hero. The bowlcut grunt fell to the ground like a ragdoll, the Toxicroak distraught and confused about what to do.

“You BITCH! ” the other grunt blindly swore, calling upon the Skuntank to go for Astrid this time. As it did so, it was able to successfully disorient her with a Poison Gas attack. Astrid doubled over; the dodges couldn't protect her now. The enemy Toxicroak moved to attack her again without instruction, preparing an impending Poison Jab attack. Astrid braced herself for the worst; a point-blank direct attack from a Pokémon would likely be the end of her. In her head, the last few hours proceeded to flash back before her very eyes. Cynthia's encouragement, and the " date " she was looking forward to mere moments before now. She largely hated her life, but now facing its end, she felt nothing but regret, perhaps mixed with fear and dread of the incoming unknown. Why didn't she just have a partner Pokémon? Did she seriously expect Giratina to protect her every time?

What an idiot she had been. Now her life WAS truly wasted.

She closed her eyes preparing to meet her end.

The end never came, but her senses did in fact cut out from around her very being. Astrid opened her eyes to darkness, followed closely by an unfamiliar light that shone of white and gold.

“ Ah, thou may be suited to receive my blessing. Seek out all pokemon, and thou shall find me once more. ”

…

Everything fell away to black once more.

☆

“Oh, wake up! …Do wake up, will you? Are you alive, my girl?” an unfamiliar male’s voice called out, breaking through the muted void of her fall.

“...Probably not,” she mumbled in response, struggling to come back down to Earth.

“Oh my… That’s quite concerning.”

Astrid opened her eyes then, finding her senses finally redirecting themselves to activity as she managed to focus on a man with a lab coat and an admittedly ridiculous looking winter hat with a pom-pom on it. Three starter pokemon, none of which were the local staples, stood at his side, peering down at Astrid in interest.

“You gave me quite a shock, falling from the sky like that. But thank goodness you seem to be unharmed!”

“...Where am I?”

“Why, this is Prelude Beach of course. Dear me; did the shock of your fall addle your memory? I must say your clothing is... unusual.”

A fair statement in general. Astrid's choice of dress skewed rather goth, and her jacket was of her own design, the back picturing a stylized image of Giratina's origin form. A big upside to a job not dealing directly with customers was looking however she pleased.

“I've never even heard of this place before,” she said, slightly dazed and more than confused. Was this the afterlife? Another dimension? Did Giratina save her after all? …No; she was pretty sure the Pokémon that appeared before her was Arceus. Surely it couldn't be as bored as Giratina to the point she would be of interest.

“Oh yes, and... What would your name be?”

“Astrid.”

“Your name has quite the ring to it! I imagine it must have a lovely meaning.”

It was related to a word for “star”, she thought to herself. Somewhat fitting for someone who fell from the sky somehow, she supposed.

The odd-hatted man introduced himself as Laventon, a Pokémon professor. As he was speaking, however, the three starter Pokémon ran off, leaving him in dismay. “I'm terribly sorry, but do you think you could help me round them up? I beg you!” he yelled before running after them.

Astrid followed his lead, noticing what was probably her phone nearby on the ground. It had taken an odd shape, and frustratingly seemed to not have a connection anymore, but it appeared that the things already saved to it still were there at least.

It echoed the message she heard before on contact.

“ Seek out all Pokémon. ”

Well, might as well start with those three, then.

Being able to throw a pokéball competently was a skill taught to children in general, and Astrid was no exception. It didn't take too much effort to round up the three starter Pokémon for Laventon; it was quite literally a job for children to her. The praise for it felt undeserved and almost patronizing, but it became clear fairly quickly why the strange professor found it so impressive.

The small village that sat on the beach was jarringly antiquated, and the people in it were as perplexed by her appearance as she was by everything else. Laventon went off somewhere and came back with more people, who reacted similarly to her presence and incredibly basic (in her opinion) skill set. A serious-looking woman with no eyebrows even offered a job and living quarters to her, if and only if she could pass some sort of evaluation. It felt ironic to have been so recently complaining she was too old to train Pokémon. Her wish had, in a very strange roundabout way, been granted. Was this Giratina's blessing or Arceus' instead? She could usually, on some level or another, feel Giratina watching over her, but it felt notably absent now. Was that the cost of her wanting to be given this chance?

…She probably wouldn't get a real answer for that.

The strange people discussed the rift in the sky she apparently fell through. That was definitely Giratina's handiwork. She could just tell. She wasn't sure if this was another parallel world or not until she heard the word Hisui, which she also recognized from her studies. It seemed she had traveled back in time to when settlers were flocking to the region of Sinnoh.

No wonder the phone had no connection…

She was provided with lodging for the night, but told that it would be only temporary if she failed the evaluation.

Maybe this blessing was a curse after all.

#PLA #Pokemon legends Arceus #Volo #I have possibly written an Entire Light Novel Worth of what mostly amounts to Volo deconstruction hahahaha #distorted reflections

[lex-munro]

[Glitter on the Wet Streets: Part 7] Looking Glass

Another clue to the caper slots into place, and Eddie starts to make himself a proper part of his (weirdly knowledgeable and supportive) boyfriend’s life.

Chapter 7 of (pretty sure?) 12.

Matt knows a thing or two about emotional trauma, Eddie; you’re in good hands.

Warnings:  Canon divergent based on the MCU.  Oblique spoilers for Black Widow, Wandavision, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, Hawkeye, Daredevil, Iron Fist, and The Defenders.  Implied sexual content.  Discussion of abusive relationships (both romantic and platonic) and recovery from abuse.  Canon Catholic characters.  Matt had to be the grown-up during the Blip, so he had five years to get his issues sorted out.  Brief panic attack and an appropriate recovery/focus activity (it’s one my therapist had me use for a long time, focusing on a common word like ‘the’ or ‘on’ in a song on the radio).  Language: PG-13 (primetime TV plus s*** and f***).

Pairing:  Matt/Eddie, past Eddie/Venom, reference to Foggy/Marci.

Timeline:  A year after the events of No Way Home, but (kind of) concurrent with the events of Hawkeye (told you it was canon divergent).

Disclaimer:  I doesn’t owns the movies or the characters.  Or the assorted objects of pop culture reference.

P.S. A thirty-pound Maine Coon is about bobcat-sized.

P.P.S. Yes, I know Netflix!Danny homeschooled, but this is a different universe where he’s not a complete loser damsel, so he might as well have gotten at least the Private School Experience™.

Looking Glass

  Eddie and Venom manage to doodle a profiling sketch of the angry chick from Fat Man Auto Body.

Ned sends a match within half an hour, and Eddie and MJ huddle at the laptop with coffee while they read.

Maya Lopez, whose late father was the guy Eddie had lined up before Kingpin got him blacklisted across the boroughs.  Young-ish.  Award-winning martial artist, chess champion.  Deaf amputee who silenced every doubter.

“Oh shit, oh shit,” Eddie mutters, mind racing.  “So we know the Tracksuits had their numbers…cut down, shall we say…by Ronin.  I’m betting in this universe, her old man snuffed it and she, having grown up in the Outfit, decided to use organized crime to get revenge.  Hence the really disproportionate response to seeing somebody dressed as Ronin—seriously, burning down five apartments?  When I saw her, she must’ve been stomping off in a huff over not being able to get her mitts on Hawkeye or Ronin.”

Dat Ass Ready to move your stuff? Downstairs with a friend who doesn’t mind fur in the car. :)

And now Eddie’s picturing Matt dictating a smiley into a speech-to-text program.

“I may vomit purely from the saccharine look on your face,” MJ informs him.

“I feel like you haven’t seen the face you make when Peter does something sweet and clever.”

She narrows her eyes at him.  “Fair enough.  You need any help carrying your…abundance of material goods?” she asks, waving one slim brown hand at the duffel bag with his only change of clothes (and the giant cat asleep on it).

“I keep forgetting you guys are comedians,” he retorts.

He packs up his laptop, tosses Snowflake onto one shoulder like a napping child, grabs the duffel, and heads for the door.

“Keep the card, okay?” MJ says.  “I’m not saying things between you won’t go well, I obviously want them to go well, but, just…  Like, maybe you’ll get lonely, or maybe you’ll need to see the board, or maybe you’ll need a cat-sitter or an apocalypse shelter or whatever…”

“You’re a good friend,” he tells her (nearly calling her the dreaded K-word instead).  “V and Snow love ya to bits, okay?  So we’ll definitely visit.  Just…maybe with parental consent first.”

“Shut up, you’re so emotional,” she squeaks out with watery eyes.  “Keep me updated on the case, Scoob.  Me ‘n the gang’ll throw you a housewarming party this weekend.”

The ‘friend’ Matt brought turns out to be some hippie-looking guy with a Bronco (brown, and Eddie wants to laugh but also wants a ride across the island).

“Holy shit, I thought Jess was exaggerating,” the blond says.  “That cat’s almost big enough to ride.”

“He’s a big softy, like his pet human,” Matt scoffs, smacking Eddie’s ass with unerring aim.  “All aboard, boys.”

“Sorry, the cat just surprised me,” the stranger goes on, offering his right hand.  “I’m Danny, the only friend Matt has who bothers to have a car.”

“In a city where public transit can take you almost anywhere,” snipes Matt.

Eddie shakes Danny’s hand.  “I’m Eddie, this is Snowflake.  We’re the boyfriend and the asshole-detector, respectively.”

“Had a friend in fourth grade whose dog was like that,” Danny says with a nod.  “That dog would tolerate a lot of people, but he hated my best friend’s dad, who turned out to be a murderer and a creep, so…clearly an animal of refined taste.”

“Oof, that’s rough,” Eddie admits.  “Well, this is pretty much everything that survived the fire.  Just that this overgrown idiot scares off cabbies and Ubers.”  He slides into the backseat.

Matt gets in from the other side, and Snowflake rouses enough to abandon Eddie’s shoulder in favor of Matt’s before closing his eyes and resuming his nap.

“The fuff is mine,” Matt declares with a grin.  “MJ would be so jealous if she knew.”

When they arrive, Danny shakes Eddie’s hand again and says it was nice meeting him.

He smells weird, Venom grumbles as the truck pulls away.

“Yeah, well…so do you, Mr. Eggs, Chocolate, and Human Brains.”

At the top of the stairs, Matt grins at him again.  “Do the honors, since I’ve got the majestic beast?”

“Oh—that’s right, I’ve got your key…”

“You have your key to our apartment,” Matt corrects.

Eddie fumbles it, and it lands with an echoing metallic sound.

Matt’s grin fades a little.  “Uh-oh.  Is that good heartbeat-skipping or bad heartbeat-skipping?”

Eddie crouches, fingers clumsy as he tries to pick the damn thing back up.

“Eddie?  I can’t see your face, remember?  You’re gonna have to help me out, here…”

“N-no, babe, it’s fine,” Eddie babbles, blunt nails scraping until he manages to get an edge of the key lifted.  “It’s…good.  I just…the last two exes had me convinced that I’m definitely not easy to live with, and, uh…it’s hard.  To believe you actually wanted to, I mean.”

“Let’s get inside, and we can talk it through.  V, could you help get the door, please?”

Venom extends a tendril expectantly, and Eddie gives him the key, grateful that he didn’t just work Eddie’s hand like a marionette.  He feels like his skin is the wrong size, and that would probably make him freak out just now.

we are okay, Venom assures him quietly.  it was in the bump-writing.  he wants to keep you.

“Please shut up,” Eddie mutters, blushing so hard even his ears feel hot.

urgh, another worrying surface-temperature change…is this a defensive camouflage?

When they get the door open and step inside, the first thing he sees is the hall table on the left—with a big old-fashioned fishbowl on it.  There’s a bow and a gift tag that says ‘for V from Matt.’

He drops his duffel, sets his laptop bag on top of it, and manhandles his boyfriend the rest of the way inside so he can shut the door.

“I take it you saw—” Matt manages before Eddie kisses the smug look off his face.

Between them, Snowflake grumbles and wriggles free to survey his new domain.

“I figure everybody deserves their own space,” Matt finally manages.  “You’re part of his life, so you’re welcome here—as long as you behave yourself.  We can even get you some stuff to decorate it, if you want.  It’s the nitrogen you can’t breathe, right?  Peter was conjecturing—”

Eddie kisses him again, but it’s mostly Venom’s fault this time.

KEEPING HIM

“Well,” Matt huffs, hands broad and warm on Eddie’s back.  “Guess that means you guys like it.”

Venom gives a happy purr, and there’s a chilly, ticklish sensation in the skin under Matt’s fingers.

“Oh,” Matt says, blinking.  “That’s a thing?”

“Hey, are you passin’ secret notes to our boyfriend?” Eddie complains half-heartedly.

“Just making certain suggestions that have me thinking about the spiritual ramifications, because while I am intrigued, I am also Catholic.”

“Right, Foggy mentioned that.  I guess I figured, since we’re here, like this, instead of you throwing holy water at us or something…”

Matt shakes his head.  “My faith and my sexuality got sorted out years ago.  Bisexuality, attraction to men, romance with men, sex with men, all taken care of.  I’m even completely fine with you being what many people would term ‘possessed.’  It’s the idea of sex with a brain-eating tentacle-monster from outer space that’s giving me things to work through.”

“Fair.  I’m not completely sure where it falls, myself, morally speaking.  And I say that as someone who used to have quite a lot of sex with said brain-eating tentacle-monster from outer space.”

A lopsided smile twists its way across Matt’s mouth.  “I think there’s a pretty suspect level of lust and general sin involved.”

“And wrath is more your thing.”

“Hey, I went to confession for that yesterday,” Matt protests with a feigned pout.  “Though I think my priest still doesn’t think I’m physically capable of the things I confess.”

Something…proud…rumbles around the base of Eddie’s spine.  “You tell him the things we been gettin’ up to?  Outta wedlock, no less?”

Matt laughs and trails a hand up to hook at Eddie’s nape.  “No.  None of it’s felt like something I should feel guilty about—and I say that as someone who’s been accused of hoarding misplaced guilt.”

“Maybe I need to get more imaginative, then.”

In a whirl, he’s been spun around and had his back thumped firmly against the closed door.

Venom’s combined lust and hunger twist through Eddie’s gut.  Eddie abruptly remembers that brains make more of that chemical Venom likes when orgasms happen.

Tentacles to yourself, he thinks.  He said not yet.

Venom gives a sulky growl.

Matt turns the lock and runs his teeth over Eddie’s collarbone.  “Bed?” he suggests.

~*~*~

Eddie has to borrow a clean shirt for lunch (he maintains that it’s technically brunch, but Matt has ignored him the three times he’s said so).  There’s no way any of Matt’s pants will fit (except maybe sweats, which will not make a great impression with the very protective best friend who first met Eddie with Matt attached to his face), and the bright red tee-shirt makes Eddie a little self-conscious about his gut, but there’s not much helping it.

Your depression has left our body a mess.  I will fix our metabolism later.

“Stop—” Matt chides, grabbing his hands, “—fidgeting!  I like your belly.”

…perhaps I will only overhaul the organs, then.

Matt flashes a goofy grin.

“What?” Eddie asks, suspicious.

“I like the way you smell in my clothes.”

WE ARE OVERHEATING AGAIN!  Is this normal?!

“Yes, V, it’s perfectly normal when I’m blushing so hard I probably look like a tomato,” he mutters.

Laughing, Matt leans in and peppers his cheek with kisses.

“Stahhhhhp,” Eddie grumbles insincerely.

“Nuh-uh.  When my boyfriend is being adorable, I have a legal obligation to provide smooches.  Pretty sure I could be disbarred for failing to provide adequate smooching.”

“That’s a damn lie.”

“But it got you to relax,” Matt points out.

Snowflake demands food (which Matt and MJ somehow conspired to provide), so Eddie fills his bowl before they head out.

“Remember to lock up,” says Matt.  “I don’t really have anything worth stealing, but you’ve got your work computer.”

Foggy meets them in a diner two blocks down.  It’s a typical greasy spoon, the kind with cracking vinyl seat cushions and pull-style soda taps and a glass display case full of pies.

Foggy has picked a booth where Matt can put his back to a wall and keep his cane out from underfoot.

“Hi,” Eddie says, feeling awkward as he holds out his hand to shake.  At least the guy’s not wearing a suit this time…

Foggy has a firm grip.  “Nice to meet under better circumstances.  Foggy Nelson.”

“Eddie Brock.”

“Hm,” is all the redhead says, face suspiciously pleasant.  “He looks nervous.  Is that just his face?”

“Oh, gee, why would he be nervous?” Matt snarks.  “He’s just my boyfriend of four days who moved in with me this morning and is having lunch with my long-time best friend.”

“Brunch, technically.  Is that one of your shirts?”

“Yes, because his apartment burned down the night before we met.  Eddie, please sit down.  I promise Foggy’s bark is worse than his bite.”

“He’s making skeptical faces,” Foggy tattles.

“Eddie, get in the booth or I will publicly serenade you, Disney prince style.”

Eddie launches into the booth with his shoulders up around his ears.

“Gonna want to be sparing with that tactic,” Foggy warns.  “Guy looks like he might spontaneously combust.”

Is this a thing now?  The too-hot embarrassment?  It’s sticky; I don’t like it.

Matt slides into the booth and wraps himself around Eddie’s arm.  “He has self-esteem issues, so I’m working on positive embarrassment to overcome the fear of public shame.”

“Yuck,” says Foggy.  “You’re wearing matching lovey-dovey faces.”

The waitress looks like somebody’s grandma, complete with a bun full of hairpins and bifocals on a chain.  She greets Foggy and Matt by name and takes all three lunch orders with efficient little shorthand notes.

“I’m going to be excruciatingly honest,” says Foggy, once she’s gone.  “Matt has an eerie ability to find and date beautiful people who are neck-deep in trouble.”

“I’m flattered,” Eddie tries to joke, despite knowing that he looks like a hobo got a shave and a shower.

Shut up, we are beautiful.  Matt says so, and now his friend is saying so.

“And as such,” Foggy goes on, “I gotta say, you look like trouble.”

“Ooh, you look like trouble,” Matt says, wiggling his eyebrows.  “Sounds sexy, I like it.”

Foggy, on the other hand, is clearly unamused.  “You look like the kind of trouble who goes digging in stuff people want buried but writes for a paper of questionable local repute.  So.  How does a guy like you end up with a bullshit merchant like the Street?  You their token ‘gritty investigator’?  Or are you on the take?”

Eddie accidentally laughs.

“Well, there’s that laugh he likes so much.  Answer the question, please.”

“Well,” says Eddie.  “Um.  I mean, I dunno how safe it would be to—”

“He’s cleaning the place out, Foggy,” Matt says easily.  “One of the editors is dirty.  But Eddie makes great bait, to his own admission.  Jess and one of the interns have some lovely photographic evidence, I’m told.”

“That’s plenty to go on with,” Foggy says.  “Insert plausible deniability here.  I hear you went to the Street because the Bulletin wouldn’t take you.  No work history.”

Eddie starts twisting one of his rings.  “It’s a long story that I promise has nothing to do with organized crime or secret identities.”

“I know about all of that, Foggy,” Matt says mildly, and grabs Eddie’s hands to stop his fidgeting.

“Sorry,” Eddie mumbles, figuring it must be loud and annoying for somebody with super-hearing.

Matt just smiles at him and kisses his cheek.  “Foggy, stop being mean.  Peter and the kids really like him, and you know how MJ is.”

The guy scoffs.  “I am making a very incredulous face right now.  And I know she Tased me for not knowing ‘the password’ that time you got hit by a car doing stupid extra-curricular shenanigans.”

“I was helping a lovely little old lady get back her savings from a pyramid scheme,” Matt corrects sternly.  “It was well worth it.  Zero regrets.  And MJ doesn’t trust easily, that’s all.  Fulfill your best friend duties:  they tell me Eddie has tattoos?”

Foggy holds both hands up.  “I’m gonna nip that in the bud.  A guy with that much visible ink could have tattoos anywhere, and I’m not going to look at your naked boyfriend to tell you about them.”

“I don’t have that much!” Eddie protests.  “Just some coverage on the arms and chest.  That’s pretty boring.”

“Aw, you actually believe that,” says Matt.

Their food arrives, and Eddie seizes the excuse to shut up.

more syrup

No.

Yes!

You got a prescription now.  You don’t get to ruin food for me again!

His hand very much wants to grab the syrup, but he manages to get a grip on his wrist and shove his hands into his lap.

Foggy stares.  “Yeah, so he just did a weird thing like his hand was possessed, and now he looks petulant.”

Matt makes a thoughtful noise.  “Remember that nice fish bowl?  Remember that I actually have multiple ways to instigate fairly intense sound between four and six kilohertz?”

FINE don’t enjoy your hashed brown potato food correctly.

“Thanks, babe,” Eddie mutters under his breath, and goes back to avoiding the conversation.

“And I’m supposed to act like everything that just happened is normal,” notes Foggy.  “I can do normal.  How’d you two meet?”

“Bored and horny at Toledo’s,” they both answer.

Foggy puts a hand to his brow and closes his eyes.  “Not even Josie’s, but straight on down to the seediest dive bar in the Kitchen to cruise for a hookup.  Were you looking for gonorrhea?”

Eddie snorts his cheap coffee.

“Hey, anybody classy enough to wear Varvatos to a shithole like Toledo’s was definitely going to be into safe sex,” reasons Matt, and Eddie nods.  “Also, it took him three lines to actually understand I was flirting.”

“You don’t gotta tell him that,” Eddie hisses.

But Matt just traps him with a hand on the opposite side of his face and loudly kisses his cheek.

“Stop,” Eddie protests without any real force.

Matt snickers and kisses him some more, and then they’re giggling like teenagers and Foggy pointedly says, “No, really, stop.  Please, you’re giving me cavities.  It’s disgustingly cute.”

“Anyway,” says Matt, letting Eddie get back to his food.  “The kids needed a late-night favor, we found out they’re our single degree of separation, spent some more time together, et voilà.  Also, his cat is amazing.”

“Your bed is amazing,” Eddie retorts.  “Think it fixed the crick I always get in my lower back.”

“Okay, objectively, your boyfriend has a cute smile,” Foggy admits.  “Crooked teeth, though.”

“Oh, I know,” Matt says smugly.

“Ugh.  I should’ve made Karen suffer through this with me…”

“Wife?” Eddie asks, natural curiosity rearing its head.

Matt and Foggy laugh.

“No.  No, no, no.  Um.  Our law firm is Nelson—”  Foggy points to himself, then to Matt.  “—Murdock, and Page.  Karen is the Page part of that, and we’re all happy with that arrangement, despite Matt’s best attempts at matchmaking prior to my happy marriage.  Normally, I’d be wearing a lovely ring of which I am immensely proud, but I’m, er, losing some weight at the moment and had to get it resized.”  He frowns pointedly at his egg-white omelet and seasonal fruit.

“Just askin’,” Eddie excuses, hands up in apology.  “I think it’s a Catholic thing—we got a built-in need to marry off the singles in our lives.  We somehow can’t picture people bein’ happy and single.”

“You’re Catholic, too?” Matt pounces.

“Ouch, big flinch,” says Foggy as soon as the expression crosses Eddie’s face.

“Lapsed, babe,” Eddie says a little uncomfortably.  “Don’t consider myself especially devout these days…had some bad experiences.”

Matt tilts his head and puts an arm around Eddie’s shoulder.  “No, no, it’s okay—you’re okay.”

“You don’t need to soothe me, y’know,” Eddie says, staring at his food as he just moves his fork through it aimlessly.  His stomach is in knots, and his brain feels like it’s floating away.

“I do,” Matt replies gently.  “Maybe you didn’t notice, but you’re having a panic attack right now.”

Is that why his hands are shaking?  But he’s breathing fine, and he’s not crying or in hysterics…

“Don’t overthink it, or it’ll just get worse.  Can you hear the song playing over the speakers?”

Jailhouse Rock.

“Yeah,” Eddie says.

“Can you keep count of how many times Elvis says the word ‘the’?”

Eddie shakes his head.  The motion makes him dizzy, for some reason.  “I’m fine, I’m not panicking.”

Your heart is squishing too quickly.

“Panic attacks are all, like, hyperventilating and stuff,” Eddie insists.  But now it’s not just his hands shaking…

“Not for everybody,” Foggy says.  “Let’s put the fork down, huh?”

“Eddie, you’re not counting,” chides Matt, leaning close.  “Come on, that was a whole chorus just now—so that’s two.”

Sad Sack was sittin’ on a block of stone Way over in the corner weepin’ all alone

“Three,” Eddie says, focusing on the words.  “Four.”

Chorus.

“Five.  Six.”

Last verse.  Nada.

Chorus.

“Seven.  Eight.  Nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen.”

“Perfect,” Matt says, squeezing him slightly.  “See?  All better.  You’re safe with me.  No matter what happens, or where this goes for us, you’ll always be safe with me.”

Eddie nods, but doesn’t quite trust his voice.  He made a scene.  People are pretending not to look.

“You’re okay,” Matt assures him again.  “Go to the bathroom and wash your face.  When you get back, let me know if you want to finish your food or just go home.  Either way is absolutely perfect.  Okay?”

Slowly, Matt pulls him to his feet and nudges him in the right direction.

Fuck fuck fuck.  Great impression to make.  He told Venom he was better, had his shit together.  Clearly not.

No, those memories had nothing to do with me.  It’s a tall man with a belt.  We’re so small and weak.  He smells like old beer.  Always angry.

Eddie stumbles through the bathroom door and fumbles to turn on the cold water.

He can’t hurt us anymore.  I won’t let him.

“Yeah?” Eddie hisses under his breath.  “Who’s gonna stop you from hurting me?”

Matt.

Oh.

He stops.  He stares at himself in the mirror.  Pale, veins thrumming, eyes glassy.  He looks like he did back when Venom was still eating his organs.

Warmth in his spine.

We are okay, my Eddie.  All of us, together.

“Right up until I’m too high maintenance…”

He splashes water on his face and pats himself dry with some paper towels.  Time to lower that maintenance factor.  Go back out, smile, let everybody finish eating.

He hesitates at the bathroom door.  He can just barely hear them.

“—spoiling him way too much,” Foggy is saying.

“I’m spoiling a guy whose last boyfriend definitely abused him on multiple levels and who evidently was also abused either by his Catholic parents or his Catholic priest?” Matt retorts.

“Jesus.  Matt, the guy needs therapy, not some kind of whirlwind romance.  If you’re just looking for someone to fix, you’re gonna get hurt.”

“Even if I’m spoiling him, so what?  He deserves it.  And maybe, just once, being with me will actually make somebody’s life better.”

“Matt—”

“Foggy.  You know I believe God made me the way I am for a reason—if part of that reason is to fall head-over-fucking-heels in love with messy, broken, complicated Eddie Brock, then thank God.  I have never felt so…needed, and truly helpful, and good.  He gives me hope, Foggy.  When he looks at me, he doesn’t see my sins and my failures and all the blood on my hands.  All he sees is the cute guy who took a chance on him in a rundown bar when his week was going to shit.”

“Dammit, Matt,” Foggy says in a resigned tone.

A goopy black paw pokes Eddie’s nose, and he swats it away.

He said it out loud.  That’s what the bumpy-note said—he is in love with you and he believes it is something his God intended as his purpose.  You had no home, so his God made a home for you in his heart.

Eddie rushes back to the sink for more cold water.

Again with the overheating!  Your facial capillaries are malfunctioning with alarming frequency since I came back.

“Blushing,” Eddie mutters.  “I’m blushing.  Didn’t Parker ever blush while you were there?”

Peter’s body is strange, and it frequently generates more thermal energy than the meatsacks of inferior hosts.  Like when I fix your broken bones, but all the time.  Just slower.

A topic for some other time, when he doesn’t have an amazing boyfriend (and his slightly overprotective best friend) waiting on him.

Let’s go home and snuggle.  It will make him terribly smug.  Smuggle.  No, that is something else…

Eddie makes his way back to the booth.  “I’m.  Um, I’m okay now.  But maybe we could go home anyway?  Get settled in?”

“Go,” says Foggy.  “I’ll take care of the check and get your leftovers packed up.  Your boyfriend is currently pink-cheeked and making heart-eyes.”

“You’re the best, Foggy,” Matt tells him with a smile.  “Catch you later.”

“Never inflict your lovey-dovey on me solo again—if I’d known how gross and sweet you two were gonna be, I’d have found some way to trick Karen into taking my place.”

�� .End.

#fanfic #CANON DIVERGENCE #Venom liked the MCU so I let him stay as a treat #Matt/Eddie #rarepair #fandom: MCU #fic series: glitter (venom MCU)

[r0-boat]

Heyo, it's Dom!Reader Anon again. The Broker!MC mob boss au still lives in my head rent free, so i wrote a follow up to what I sent before. I hope you all enjoy! --- The room was dark, nothing but the sounds of whirring fans echoed throughout the area, illuminated by the various screens in front of you. Sitting back in your chair, you sorted through a chat service, amusement clear on your features. "I wondered how long it would take him to unlock those memories. Seems he was desperate." you mused out loud, watching the flurry or messages fly by on the screen. Steven Stone was one of the few champions to ever hear your real voice, and see part of your actual face. You had locked his memories of such right after, of course. It had been too risky to leave him be during a party with so many powerful people attending. It wasn't the best solution, but erasing all his memories could cause permanent harm, and Steven was too good of an asset to you to lose. So locking his memories it was. You had set up some precautions of course. Your Hypno messed with the Champion's mind just enough, if Steven happened to remember those memories, he would find himself unable to talk about them. At least, he wouldn't be able to talk about specifics. It had been a while since he had unlocked them, you were sure. He must have desired to keep such knowledge to himself. However, recently something had happened in a group chat of sorts. All the champions were in contact with each other, through a (mostly) untraceable chat application. It was mainly used for business, or to get information amongst the others quickly. They were unaware that you had access, of course. What they didn't know wouldn't hurt them. It was today when your Porygon had gotten your attention about a flare in activity amongst the champions in the app. Of course, when you saw your name, Z, amongst the sea of messages, you couldn't resist taking a peek. By the looks of things, someone had pissed Steven off, Leon by the looks of it. The champions tended to underestimate the man. Sure, Steven may not have been the strongest fighting wise, but he held immense influence. Shame how the others tended to forget that. Leon, despite how kind he looked to the masses, was a boss that liked to test the waters. He liked to see what made people tick, and how far he can goad them. You knew from first hand experience, him trying (and failing) to make you rise to his bait. It seems today Steven unfortunately had enough of Leon's games, and mentioned he had something none of them did. This obviously got everyone's attention. Sure, Steven had money and influence that they did not, but that wasn't anything new. Steven wouldn't be broadcasting just that to get the upper hand from Leon. Cynthia, morbidly curious, had asked him to clarify what he meant. Steven, oh how you could just feel the smugness coming from his message alone, responded in kind. 'I saw Z in person, no voice changer, with only a mask covering half their face.' Immediately, there had been an outcry in the chat. Your grin nearly hurt as you watched the chaos unfold. Immediately, Leon had called bullshit, no way Steven of all the bosses had seen you as such. N was right behind him, calling Steven a liar. No way would someone like you just willingly show yourself as such. He seemed eager to try and prove Steven wrong. Lance was blowing a gasket. Steven? Steven had seen you in person, without your usual get up? Even he hadn't seen so much of you, and he was positive he had seen you in person the most out of any of the champions. The most he could have guessed is your height and build! Cynthia seemed rather quiet, more so to watch the chaos unfold, and gleam what she could. From the few messages of disbelief however, you could tell she didn't believe the Hoenn champion. You had a feeling she was probably a bit amused as well. Diantha rather seemed more curious out of all the others. She was the first one to immediately ask for details. What did you dress like? What was your hair like? The color

of your eyes? She was oh so curious. She had only done a handful of deals with you, after all. Her own Gym leaders knew you more than she did. That didn't stop the rumors she would hear about you, though. Kukui, despite not being a champion, was in the group as well. He and his wife ran the underground in Alola until a champion was declared. He was no slouch, however, and was a devastating opponent to many who opposed him. Much like Diantha, he was genuinely curious. You had done many deals with him to help him set up the Alolan Elite Four. He couldn't help but want to know what you looked like, and why you would reveal yourself to Steven in the first place. If you had even done so, and Steven wasn't lying out his ass, of course. What would you have gained from doing so, though? Did you see something in Steven that none of the others had? You were notorious for not engaging with anyone unless you had something to gain from it, regardless of the deal or who it came from. So to go as far as to show yourself, what did Steven have that was as valuable as your face and voice? "You know, if I had known showing one of these idiots a lil bit of my face would cause such a funny reaction, I would have considered it months ago." You mumbled to yourself. It almost blew your mind sometimes how much of a presence you had to these people, ever in the back of their mind. Sure, you knew you had a presence, but this much? They really lost this much sleep over you? It was amusing, to say the least. Gleaming over the messages that seemed to continue spewing forth, Steven declined to say anything else about you. 'You all know how it is. What makes you all think I would tell any of you anything anyway?' Steven finally responded. It seemed he either was aware of your little fail safes, or he truly wanted to keep your appearance to himself. Perhaps he wanted to continue to have the upper hand? Or he was fully aware of the consequences of his actions if he had been able to actually describe what you looked like? Either way, smart boy. Several of the others continued to call bullshit, especially seeing as he wasn't going to offer up any details. Still, making such a claim certainly was already making waves. Though, in the middle of all the chaos, you were surprised to see a notification on your own private program. A program you specifically used to get in contact with the Champions, and vice versa. 'So, is it true?' It was from Cynthia. Even if she wasn't aware that you were in the Champion chat, it was obvious she was aware you must know what she was asking. You eagerly typed a response. 'Depends on what you are asking.' you responded in kind. She knew the rules to this game. She would have to be clear with you. After a few moments of silence, you got a response. 'Steven. Did he really see you? And part of your face, along with your real voice?' she asked, straight to the point. Taking a moment to weigh in your options, you smiled as you popped your knuckles. 'Yes. He did.' Cynthia didn't respond, and you focused your attention back to the chat. N and Leon, and now Lance, were trying to call out Steven for lying about such things. Diantha and Kukui seemed to have gone silent, preferring to watch the chaos unfold. That is, until a moment later, Cynthia spoke up once again in the chat, a screenshot of your response posted. Cynthia: [Img3897840.jpg] 'It's true.' For a moment, the chat had gone dead silent. Oh how you wish you could be a fly on the wall in each of their rooms right now. After a few moments, the chat practically blew up. Everyone was in disbelief. N practically demanded if that was a fake image, wondering why you had shown yourself to Steven, and what Steven did to deserve such an honor. You would probably be hearing from him and the others later. Lance was fuming, from the looks of it. His messages had become quite cold towards the group in a matter of seconds. It was no secret he prided himself over seeing you the most. This was definitely a blow to him and his ego. Leon was spamming

messages to Steven, asking for more details. His tone had practically done a 180 from before, and you could tell Steven seemed to enjoy his misery. His cocky attitude practically gone as he all but begged for any information over how Steven had your favor. Kukui was attempting to glean what he could from the conversation. Even though he was never hostile towards the Hoenn champion, and was more friendly than most, he knew his luck would probably be about the same as Leon's if he were to ask for any information. The best he could do was gather what he could, and hope to find any extra details that might go unnoticed. Diantha seemed almost ecstatic at the revelation that what Steven had said was true. Could this mean you were willing to reach out to those you trusted? Did this mean you trusted Steven? Would you be willing to show such trust with the others in the future? This simple act opened so many possibilities. Perhaps you weren't as stone cold as you seemed? Or it could all be business, but hey, she couldn't help but hope. Meanwhile, you reached for a nearby mug, and sipped at your drink. "Heh, well, I can at least say things just got so much more interesting."

What an amazing read

The boss is having a group chat is very interesting

think of all of this shit post and funny stuff you could make with this afsh

And Cynthia already knowing that you were listening in on their conversation beautiful.

You have Cynthia perfectly

Z and Cynthia are both incredibly sharp. Cynthia does admire them but at the same time has no problem throwing them under the bus and leaking DMs.

(Shitpost headcanon: N communicates with images and memes other than words except for when he serious)

#ro.chatting #pokemon champion mob boss au #mob boss mc

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 287: Family Reunion

Previously on BnHA: The Tomura For One VS Deku And Pals clusterfuck reached new levels of clustfuckery as AFO possessed Tomura’s body and stabbed Kacchan and Endeavor. Shouto was all “good thing I leveled up offscreen so as to be able to fly around whilst carrying 400lbs worth of people”, and did just that and it was like, damn, son. Meanwhile Deku’s rage went Mach 100, and he kicked Tomura’s ass for almost two whole seconds, but in the process he apparently forgot that IF TOMURA TOUCHES HIM THAT IS VERY BAD, and so he stupidly let Tomura touch him and Tomura was all “GAME, SET.” Fortunately for Deku, his quirk plays by its own rules, and so the chapter ended with us cutting to the METAPHYSICAL OFA/AFO PARANORMAL DREAMSCAPE OF MYSTICAL BULLSHIT, where AFO!Vestige was all “lol Tomura y u mad”, and Nana!Vestige was all “SUP DEKU, YOU’RE JUST IN TIME, LOOKS LIKE IT’S ASSKICKING O’CLOCK.” I’m paraphrasing a bit, but that’s more or less the gist of it.

Today on BnHA: AFO is all “well if it isn’t Tomura’s grandmother who I murdered that one time”, and Deku is all “?”, and AFO is all “fucking vestiges, man, wild”, and Deku is all “??”, and AFO is all “ANYWAYS GETTIM TOMURA”, and OFA is all “NOT SO FAST”, and Deku is all “???”, and really, same. AFO then goes off on some wild tangent about how Deku is unworthy because he couldn’t protect everyone and needed help from OFA and got mad about his friends being stabbed, which is such a cold take it gave me hypothermia, but it ends up not mattering since Deku and Tomura both wake up seconds later with OFA still in the possession of its rightful owner, HOW ABOUT THAT. The chapter ends with the LoV approaching on Gigantomachia’s back with Dabi practically salivating at the mouth, and Toga trying to reignite an old fandom blood feud. Toga why would you do this to me. Toga.

YESSSSSSSSSSSSS

[CROWD LOSING THEIR MINDS] FINALLY THE NANA HAS COME BACK TO BNHA!! IF YA SMELLLLL WHAT THE NANA IS COOKIN!!!!! [RINGSIDE BELL CHIMING WILDLY] [LOUD AIRHORN NOISES]

“chapter 287: mistake” omg. yeah I’ll say you made a mistake, AFO. I HOPE YOU ENJOY THESE FLEETING LAST MOMENTS OF YOUR SHITTY EVIL LIFE

(ETA: so in all seriousness this must be referring to AFO’s belief that All Might/OFA made a mistake in choosing Deku, right? “I can’t believe you went and chose this shounen manga protagonist as your champion, what were you thinking.” I’ll just put this out there: however many comic books AFO read as a child, it clearly was not enough.)

wow Deku how slow are you

yes you’re inside OFA you dimbulb, did you think your clothes suddenly vanished out of the blue and the ghost of Nana just randomly appeared in the real world by some freak coincidence?? can you believe this kid. breaks his arms a measly 10-15 times in a row and all of a sudden he can’t think straight, get it together Deku

but also brb having a moment at the fact that his thoughts immediately run back to Kacchan, even with all of this nonsense going on and Nana about to lay the beatdown on AFO’s potato-lookin’ ass. forget that noise, all he wants to know is whether or not Kacchan is all right. fuckin’ geez. AM I OVERREACTING HERE A BIT. probably

(ETA: ALSO!! the way he just trails off!! “Kacchan is...” and then he can’t bring himself to complete the thought. oh my god my heart.)

HOLY SHIT

okay,

damn but this man sure knows how to ruffle my feathers. as eminently detestable as ever!!

could it be any clearer here that AFO is not on Tomura’s side?? for a moment I thought he had actually grabbed him by the back of the head in order to get him to look. but nope, he’s just resting his pointing hand on top of his head instead while he’s all “HEY TOMURA LOL IT’S THE GHOST OF YOUR DEAD PATHETIC GRANDMA”

for those keeping track at home, this would be the first time that Deku has heard this information -- that Tomura is Nana’s grandson -- and possibly the first time Vestige!Nana has heard it as well. Nana died when Kotarou was still a child, so for all we know the Vestige!Nana didn’t even know she had a grandson, lol. TODAY ON “MAKESTE RANTS AT LENGTH ABOUT THINGS THAT WILL PROBABLY BE ADDRESSED WITHIN THE NEXT THREE PANELS”, anyway moving on

lmao for the record I fucking LOLed at this giant question mark immediately bubbling up over Deku’s head

no idea what AFO is about to ramble on about now, haven’t read that far yet. but let the record show that Deku’s immediate reaction to hearing “BTW NANA IS YOUR ARCHNEMESIS’S GRANDMA LULZ” is everything I could have hoped for

(ETA: fandom nailed the shit out of this one with the confused Mr. Krabs meme lmao.)

okay so now AFO is monologuing at length about how he would sometimes have “riveting dreams” about the previous owners of all the quirks he stole. but once he gave the quirks away they stopped bothering him?? holy moly let me just take all the notes

okay so he’s saying that Vestiges are created whenever someone has their quirk stolen by AFO. but if they then disappear when he gives the quirks away, does that also mean that whoever receives the quirks also gets the original owner’s Vestige bundled in every time?? that would be wild okay hold up let me read the rest of this

so he’s saying that the Vestiges are actually the “consciousnesses” of the original quirk owners, which have become embedded in their dna or something. SOUNDS INCREDIBLY DUBIOUS TO ME LOL but on the other hand this is a world where children can be born with airplane heads, so my disbelief can hardly afford to pick and choose what it’s gonna be suspended at! anyways though, how does he know he’s the only one who was able to converse with them? did you conduct detailed six-month follow-up interviews with everyone you gave quirks to or what

and if it really is the case that this ability was formerly exclusive to him, isn’t that more evidence than ever that OFA and AFO are actually THE EXACT SAME QUIRK oh whoops am I getting ahead of myself again, sorry

MEANWHILE TOMURA IS ALL, “GRANDMA?”

“WHY AM I HERE, WELL LET ME TELL YOU A STORY, GRANDSON. YOU SEE THAT MAN GROWING OUT OF YOUR RIBCAGE THERE? WELL IT’S JUST THE FUNNIEST THING, ACTUALLY”

WAIT SO IS HE SAYING THEY’RE SOULS OR NOT??

this makes it sound like they won’t ever get to rest, which sure sounds like a soul thing to me. well whatever, soul, consciousness, I guess it’s just semantics at the end of the day

anyways though, so this asshole is finally done talking (I’m sure that won’t last), so now we can finally have the heartwarming reunion we’ve all been waiting for

sigh

-- actually, no, not “sigh”!! you know what!! because Tomura says “whatever the reason”, but that’s only because he doesn’t actually have a fucking clue about the reason. like, I don’t know if the knowledge that AFO killed Nana would be enough to give him pause, but if he knew the whole story and knew that AFO was behind not only Nana’s death, but the rest of his family’s deaths as well... now that would be a whole different thing

anyway. but at least it’s becoming clearer now why AFO spent all that time raising Tomura up as his heir and brainwashing him even though he seems to have been planning this body takeover the whole time. it’s all because he loves making people miserable! yaaaaay

btw HAS NANA HAD THE EXACT SAME MOLE ON HER CHIN AS TOMURA THIS ENTIRE TIME WTF. am I just the least observant person who ever lived lmao

lol wtf

ground: [randomly starts exploding]

Deku: “ONE FOR ALL IS BEING ERODED!!!” LOL IS THAT WHAT’S HAPPENING HERE, OKAY THEN. I’ll take your word for it

y’all I cannot fucking get over this “AFO growing out of Tomura’s hip socket like a fucked-up ventriloquist dummy” shit though

you do realize that absolutely no one can take you seriously right now, right?? it’s important to me that you know this

WHAT’S THIS NOW

seems like SOMEONE has had it up to here with a certain SOMEONE ELSE’S bullshit lmaooo bye Felicia

I SAID GOOD DAY!!

you guys why is he not dying!!

-- OH DAMN

love how Deku is just lying there like “YOU KNOW THOSE DAYS WHERE YOU’RE LIKE, THIS MIGHT AS WELL HAPPEN.” poor Deku

(ETA: where in god’s name is OFA Prime standing. why are my thoughts fully consumed by this lmao.)

are Nana and OFA Prime even doing anything?? why are they sticking their arms out like that. wait hold up is this all a big metaphor for the back-and-forth going on between Tomura trying to steal OFA and OFA being all “actually no you can’t, please enter your password and click on all the boxes with bicycles in them to prove you’re a human first”?

OH SNAP OFA PRIME SAID NO THANKS

“SORRY BRO WE’VE ALREADY MADE OURSELVES AT HOME HERE”

I have only just noticed that metaphysical!Deku has the same scars as actual!Deku. and yet his arms are not currently broken! that doesn’t really seem consistent to me but whatever!! maybe he saved right before the boss battle, that would be smart of him

anyway, that’s great and all that OFA Prime is here helping out, but I really wanted to see Nana fight AFO in a one on one though so I’m a bit disappointed. also why is it only the two of them?? where are Banjou and the others. of all the times to be sleeping on the job

FOR FUCK’S SAKE, THIS MAN

WOULD YOU STOP. WOULD YOU JUST QUIT IT ALREADY

oh shit hold up

doesn’t this confirm that the reason he wanted to transfer his power to Tomura is because he believed it would make him strong enough to finally take OFA because of Quirk Singularity? jesus christ. and here he was so sure of himself. but it turns out he doesn’t actually know shit! you can’t just fucking take OFA like that ya dingdong that’s not how it works

(ETA: SO, A THOUGHT -- is there any sort of subtle hinting here in the way that he words this? “if your strength is combined with mine”, as opposed to “if my strength is combined with yours”? no idea if the admittedly-so-small-as-to-be-almost-inconsequential distinction between those two sentences exists in the original Japanese or not, but I find it very interesting that the English wording implies that he’s the one adding Tomura’s strength to his own, rather than vice versa.)

now he’s insulting Deku!!

excuse me sir WHO ASKED YOU anyway. and never mind that being consumed by an, AND I QUOTE, “unquenchable” rage is your protege’s whole THING, and that he also needed your help to avoid being burned to a crisp a short while ago. where do you get off I swear

(ETA: also just want to point out that in the panel before this one he says that he’s been “watching through Tomura”, which pretty much confirms that his consciousness or whatever is alive inside of him all the time. Tomura is definitely not getting rid of this guy any time soon.)

WOW

first he calls Kacchan useless, then he calls Deku a simpleton, and don’t even get me started with Nana. just, you guys. this man is just... a very, very rude man

NOW OFA IS ALL “THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT MAKES HIM SUCH A GOOD PROTAGNIST YOU BUTTMUNCH” AND OMG PREACH

“DESPITE HIS COMMON SENSE” sdfkllk my man he already has one brother roasting him, take it easy guy

AHH WHAT

IS THIS BACK IN THE REAL WORLD

YEP

hahaha nice try Tomura

so Deku’s all “I didn’t lose my power! BUT” and I assume the “but” is the part where his arms are still broken and shit, and meanwhile Tomura’s body is almost healed up now finally

they’re both wiped out and now AFO is again petitioning Tomura to let him take over goddammit

“you won’t lose your mind” yep, he sure won’t! scout’s honor!! pinky swear!!

meanwhile Deku is getting fucking desperate flkjl;k my baby. and Machia is going to show up any second now too, probably. what else can fucking go wrong at this point

oh shit I shouldn’t have asked

get ready to rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrruuuumble, probably

OH MY GOD

WELL AT LEAST SOMEONE HERE IS HAVING A GOOD TIME. jesus

so as soon as he heard Endeavor was there he got all, “TIME FOR THE BIG REVEAL”, is that right? WELL JOKE’S ON YOU TOUYA, YOUR DAD DOESN’T SEEM ALL THAT CONSCIOUS AT THE MOMENT, SO THAT’S GOING TO DRAIN A LOT OF THE TENSION FROM THE SCENE WHEN YOU GO ALL REVERSE DARTH VADER ON HIM AND HE’S ALL “ZZZZZZZZ”

meanwhile Toga is having unsettlingly quiet angst

jesus christ Toga this is all we need right now

“WAS JIN-KUN NOT A PERSON” sdkfjlk Horikoshi I swear. please have mercy on this fandom. this is the debate that refuses to die!!

but seriously ffs, the issue isn’t that Jin deserved to die, it’s that the countless people whom Jin would have either directly or indirectly killed didn’t deserve to die either. people don’t only become people when you attach names and faces to them! we all loved Jin because we’d gotten to know him, but that doesn’t mean his life was inherently worth more than the lives of all the people he would have killed. sometimes there’s just no good answer

like, it’s just crazy to me that because the heroes are all “we want to protect everyone!” but then aren’t always able to do so because that’s literally impossible, whereas the villains are all “we don’t care about anyone other than the select few people that we actually like!”, the villains somehow wind up getting the better PR. it just so happens that it’s infinitely easier to be loyal to the interests of a few people as opposed to ALL THE PEOPLE. like, no shit, it’s easier to stick to your moral code when you barely have a moral code. and so the villains can kill thousands and no one bats an eye, but if a hero fails to save even one person they’re hypocritical moral failures. like what the hell

BUT ANYWAY, sorry to go off on a tangent there lol, it’s not really a big deal. I’m just preemptively trying to stave off more discourse about it lol but who am I even kidding

anyways lol, but of course they won’t kill you unless they have no choice, Toga. but when it comes to catch-22 situations, it’s a bit much to infer that the heroes don’t consider the villains people just because they opt for the choice that spares more innocent lives. I sure as hell don’t want my babies out here killing people, but to say that they can’t no matter what or else they’re no different from the villains is just...

anyway so the chapter has now just ENDED, just like that!! on a shot of Ochako’s face!

I SENSE ANOTHER THROWDOWN COMING. and it had better not be a total letdown like the last one! NANA BARELY DID ANYTHING HORIKOSHI, WHAT THE FUCK. I started out with such high hopes lol

but I will settle for Toga VS Ochako, and Deku VS Tomura: The Sequel: Shouto’s Revenge! SPEAKING OF HEROES WHO HAVE NO QUALMS ABOUT MURDERING PEOPLE lmao

#bnha 287 #shigaraki tomura #all for one #shimura nana #midoriya izuku #one for all #lil bro when are you gonna get yourself a proper name so I can tag you #himiko toga #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #ofa the first

[aknosde]

Omnes Una Manet Nox

The chronologically first installment of my Reyna Swap AU, Alea Iacta Est // Reyna Avilla Ramírez-Arellano // Fluff & Angst, but minor on the angst // the night before Reyna disappears //  tw: mentions past minor character death // light swearing // 4.4k

ao3

—————

“That went well, didn’t it?” Jason asks with that familiar, absently intense energy. They’ve just descended the steps of the Senate after their monthly meeting with the consuls.

The two consuls, in their late thirties, oversee all of Camp Jupiter. Of course, the legion manages their own grounds and budget, under Jason and Reyna’s command, but the little oversight they do get is from the consuls.

Johnson was one of New Rome’s praetors, a few years back. He doesn’t care much about the legion, being from a legacy family and largely skirting his training and service, and he never ceases to make that known. Malhill is the one that always gets under Jason’s defenses. He’s good on policy, good on veterans, good on kids, everything that they could want. But he was the legion’s champion only ten years ago. A direct son of Apollo, a talented archer but an even better bender of light, a legion praetor, and he’s had his eyes on Jason’s career since day one. Reyna’s seen the way he eyes Jason whenever she and Jason are in New Rome, already pegging him for a consul position once Jason’s old enough.

“It went well, Jace,” she says. “Your mission plan is flawless, the only thing that could make them happier is if you’d go on it.” She regrets the words as soon as they’re out of her mouth.

Her remorse is tangible, visible in the line of his spine, the way he taps the place in his pocket where Ivlivs would sit if they were not inside the Pomerian Line, the subtle flick of his wrist.

Not for the first time, she thinks about Mount Othrys. Everything it took from her. Sometimes when she sleeps–not often, but enough–it plays over in her head. But something is always wrong.

She’s leading the charge, but suddenly it’s Jason next to her instead of Michelle. Or Jason and Michelle run into the throne room, but when she closes the door behind them it locks. She makes it into the throne room, slaying all of the Dracaena, but when she enters Atlas is holding Jason over his head, instead of fighting him hand to hand. On the good nights, Michelle isn’t dead when she bursts through the door, on the bad, she watches Michelle die. The one constant is Jason, gold ichor dripping down his face in a horrific mask. When she and Jason land the killing blow, together, she can always see it.

He doesn’t talk about it, of course. Not about Michelle, not about his election, not about the mountain. But she can see it weighing on him through the big things, like how he hasn’t been out of camp borders since the battle, and the small things, like how he glances up at the stars, as if one will come down and crush him any moment.

She rolls her right shoulder, feeling the ligaments shift, as if it will rid her of the thoughts, prepare her for a topic of conversation that often hits a little too close to home.

“Did you hear how Johnson pronounced my name? He’s even worse than you.” Maybe the small huff of a laugh Jason expels is worth it. “‘Miss Ramírez-Arellano,’” she continues, in a nasally imitation of the consul.

“I don’t say it that badly.”

“You say it like a white boy who didn’t know Spanish was a language until two seconds ago.”

“Ramírez-Arellano,” he says, better than consul Johnson, but she still hates hearing it. That girl is long gone, the only thing connecting her to Reyna is Hylla, and although Reyna loves her sister, she’s grateful for the distance that keeps Hylla from being a constant reminder.

“‘We were– were very, erm, dazzled, by your most recent proposition.’” She continues the impression until they are walking through the Praetorian Gate, Jason half hanging off her shoulder and giggling like they’re thirteen again.

He has a nice laugh. A friendly one. It seems to feed off of her volume, her effort, fluctuating the longer he goes. He shouts at her to stop several times, but he’s doubled over in armor, snorting, and all she wants to do is make him laugh like this forever.

It only gets worse on the steps of the Principa, when he decides a good revenge plan is to trip her. The building is dark like the rest of the legion. Two lamps, invisible under the light of day, flank the double doors, but the light is faint and barely makes its way to the stairs, washing everything in a pale yellow. She side steps his foot–his sneakers have reflective decals on them for the sake of the gods, he’s an idiot–but he’s shifted his weight so much that he ends up tripping himself.

They stumble through the doors, still chuckling, and make their way across the great hall as quickly as possible. They must have gotten a new tender for the Principa, because the lights are off like they forgot that people actually live here. Only two people, but still. The darkness makes the place unsettling, and now she’s counting on Jason to keep her occupied. A job he seems all too willing to fulfill as he runs through the next set of doors, still in full armor, clashing against the wood.

Upstairs is worse, she decides. The abandoned lounge reminds her of her childhood living room. Any moment her father could rise from one of the low couches, ready to scoop her up and throw her in her room, that crazed look in his eye.

Something clangs and she jumps.

“What the heck is this?” Jason’s whisper-shouting when she catches up with him in the hallway outside their rooms. He’s partially on the floor–hands keeping him from being face flat–and something is crinkling under his knee.

For some reason all Reyna can say is: “Did you just say ‘heck?’”

“Shut up,” he whines, and she wishes the lights were on just so she could see his ears turning red.

“Of course, farm-boy.”

He’s sitting back on his heels now, she can see the object’s dark outline as he holds it up, rustling in his hands.

“Seriously, what is this thing?” he asks, looking up at her.

“A bag with my old clothes,” she says, squinting. “I was going to see if any legionnaires need some.”

“And you have it by your door so you don’t forget,” he says, explaining for her. In the stress of running for office, of war, she forgot the ways in which they are attuned to each other. She forgot that she doesn’t have to explain and defend her every little action to him. It’s sad that it’s taken her almost two months to remember.

He sets the bag back down, nudging it into almost its exact spot, and hefts himself to his feet with a sigh. His brow furrows once he’s standing, looking out into the middle distance, but he sees the quirk of her brow and quickly explains himself, “We have that meeting with the centurions tomorrow after breakfast.”

Jason is a social person. A true extrovert. He hates being alone, working alone, and the quiet that comes with both. So what he’s really saying is that he has work left to do and wants some company. And who is she to deny him that? “Do you want to work in the main hall, office, or my room?”

He grins, clapping his hands and then raises his palms to the sky. “Bedroom, praise Fortuna.”

“Five minutes, Sparkplug,” she says, bumping her shoulder into his own as she sidesteps him into her room. His eyes follow her as she goes, like she’s his North Star, and damn him for making her heart skip a beat, because in the empty space Venus’ words always echo. She stomps them down, before her face can fall, before the hollow silence can fill the hallway, and in their place she jams a smirk. “If you’re lucky I’ll even edit your speech.”

As her door clicks behind her she can hear him groan, “I just prayed to Fortuna.”

She stands with her hands on her hips, briefly surveying her room to decide what to do first.

Being praetor has its perks, like private bath and bedrooms across the hall from her best friend and king sized beds, but it also means she is no longer in the practice of keeping her space ready for inspections. Her comforter is pulled up, but her bed isn’t made, files are scattered across her desk and on her dresser, and her wardrobe is wide open.

She decides on doing everything at once, which involves a crooked path across her room as she shucks off armor, not bothering with her armor stand, and changes out of the nice clothes she wore to meet the consuls. All the while she turns on lights, puts on sweats, makes her bed, and tucks away files.

Jason knocks on her door five minutes later, that ever punctual bastard, just as she’s zipping her hoodie over her tank top.

“Help me, Reyna,” he says, holding a typed copy of his speech out to her in both hands like some sort of trophy. “You’re my only hope.”

She snorts, snatching the pages out of his hands. “Nice reference.”

He cocks his head to the side, brow furrowed, and she bets if he were actually a wolf one of his ears would be turned as well.

“You just made a Star Wars reference,” she says, but he looks just as confused.

“What’s Star Wars?” He asks warily.

She swears to herself in Spanish, because otherwise he’ll tease her about the legion’s anti-swearing policies, collapsing dramatically back on her bed, and sighs. “It’s a movie trilogy, wolf boy.”

“Ah.”

Another thing she forgot, apparently, is how little Jason knows about basically anything outside of camp. He says he arrived when he was three, and wasn’t even allowed into the city until he was eight, which apparently means he’s never been to a movie theater.

By now he seems used to her telling him about the more innocent aspects of the mortal world, and at the very least takes his lack of knowledge in stride. If only he would watch the movies and shows she’s downloaded on his laptop for him.

When she looks up after reading his introduction he is sitting at her desk, picking at some invisible blemish while subtly putting highlighters away, and looking around her room.

“If you start cleaning I’m throwing you out.”

He grumbles to himself, but she makes out a yes ma’am somewhere in the mix, so she decides to throw him a bone.

“If you want to occupy yourself I have a speech about legion veterans you can fact check,” she says, faux casual, not that he can tell. He needs to do something before he starts picking at his nails instead of the wood.

“Sure.”

“It’s in one of the red folders.”

“Would that be the one on the floor under your desk or the one on your dresser,” he says, sounding far too cheeky.

“The one on my dresser, and stop pretending you’re better than me, asshole.”

He clutches his chest dramatically, walking to her dresser. “Better than the best? How could I be?”

“Mmmhmm,” she responds, half ignoring him in favor of his speech, aware of the ticking clock.

It’s truly impossible for him to stay awake past ten, a fact that is only proven the next time she looks up and he’s asleep at her desk, pen still in hand and a research paper opened on her laptop. No matter how often she reminds him that the regimented lights out of the legion no longer applies to them, he just can’t seem to break the habit.

“Jason.” She nudges his shoulder, extracting the pen at the same moment so he can’t smudge her speech.

His head jerks, eyes alert, but voice groggy when he says, “What’s going on?” All legionnaires wake up in a similar manner, but for some reason it only strikes her as amusing when he does it.

She hadn’t thought of what she was waking him up for, besides a need to do it, and her mind wanders to the Forum, wondering if her favorite café would still be open at this hour. She’s starving, she realizes. Their meeting with the consuls had been pushed back and they had had to skip dinner to make it.

She grins. “Are you hungry?”

“Uh, yeah. How did you know?”

“Roof s’mores?”

“Reyna,” he drags out the last syllable, fading it into a sigh. “That takes energy.”

“Okay, but–” She holds her hands out, weighing them. “Would you rather spend the energy to just walk across the hall and go to sleep, or climb up to the roof with me and roast us a couple marshmallows?”

Jason looks at her like is that a real question? which had been her intention. She folds her hands into a pleading gesture and pouts emphatically–he’s always more flexible when she acts a little silly. “Please, Jace. I got that cheap chocolate you like. I’ll even get the stuff myself, you can go straight up.”

“Fine.” He rolls his eyes and she smiles, satisfied, and already on her way out the door.

The praetorian kitchen reminds her of office break rooms on television, besides the fact that it looks perpetually unnatural, mostly due to the fact that only three people go inside–her, Jason, and the Principa tender–and it’s always pristine. The only things actually kept in there are coffee, tea, and of course: her and Jason’s secret stash of s’more supplies, buried in the back of the cabinet with the untouched bowls.

By the time she’s through the roof access door, conveniently placed to hide it from the view of anyone on the ground, Jason is already sitting by the dark spot of ash that signifies their pastime. Because, yes, they started coming up here long before either of them were elected Praetor.

He’s a dark outline against the night sky, sitting criss-crossed and looking down at the façades of the other legion buildings, and briefly she has the thought that somebody could make a painting out of this. She slides her old Camp Jupiter ID back between the lock and door jamb, willing the thought to disappear with the potential of the fire alarm going off.

She shivers as she sits next to him, nose wrinkling with the cold now that she’s fully vulnerable to the elements. Without a word Jason removes his sweatshirt and passes it to her.

“I’m already wearing one.”

“Mine is thicker, trade me.”

And because he’s Jason, she does.

It’s slightly big on her, his shoulders just a few inches broader than her own, and a forest green. On the back is a printed vine of purple flowers and a date. She recognizes it as one of the prizes of the Ludi Florae, or Games of Flora, from Floralia last year. The festival sits right between April and May, and last year’s was the grandest of all. Or so Jason says. Everyone had been anxious about Mount Othrys, and apparently all of that energy had been funnelled into the events.

Reyna herself had been busy running for praetor. All she remembers from the festival is campaigning. And Jason, running up to her looking flushed, this sweatshirt thrown over one shoulder.

“Remember when I told you that you were the best, Jace,” she says sweetly once she is safely swaddled in his hoodie. He’s right–it is thicker.

Jason grins up at her, wrapping his hands around two marshmallows. “I may recall something along those lines having been said a long, long time ago.”

“Well, I just want to inform you that I retract that statement, because this sweatshirt is ugly and the cuffs are burnt.”

The electricity that had been slowly coursing over the ridges of his fingers flares for a second, and his hands fly open as if he was handed metal straight from the forges. “Oops.” Both of the marshmallows are burnt, but his lips are turned up in a poorly concealed smirk.

“I forget you’re a heathen,” she says primly, sticking her nose in the air instead of saying any of the less wholesome options at the back of her throat.

“Does liking burnt marshmallows make me a heathen?”

She pretends to mull it over for a second, extracting the rest of their supplies. “Yes. You have to buy the next bag because you’re mean and I say so.”

She takes the burnt marshmallow regardless, sandwiching it between her own chocolate and graham crackers. Jason takes three squares of the Hershey bar he likes for absolutely no good reason, and does the same. She shakes her head. He’s the fucking all American boy who sticks with the classics even when he doesn’t know they’re the classics. She has no idea how he does it.

They don’t talk while they eat, regrettably the silence reminding her of her childhood, no matter how hard she pushes against it. She looks up at the stars, trying to forget the cold kitchen, cold house, even in hundred degree heat. It’s times like this when the ring, and the chain she wears it on, weigh heavy on her neck.

It feels like a noose right now, just as much as it feels like freedom, like power, every other second of her life. Like a sentence, compelling her to pay for her crimes, to confess to them, to wreck her world so terribly that she would lose up from down and die. A fair punishment.

“What are you thinking about,” Jason asks a while after they’ve finished. She looks at him, sitting back on his hands, looking at her, not the sky. It’s dark on the roof, but the light from the street lamps seems to center around him. It glints off his hair, visibly blond even in the night, and pours into his eyes. They’re always so blue. So blue it looks fake. But they never cease to pull Reyna in. Sometimes she swears she can see lightning arc across his irises.

He’s always asking her questions like this. Innocent and curious, no ulterior motives, no goals. He genuinely wants to know. And if she doesn’t answer, he’ll drop it, because he always does. It’s not something she’s used to, even after all these years; this place she has in his mind, if not his heart. A place of utter respect. He doesn’t question her because he knows what she is thinking, and when he doesn’t, he accepts her. Would he still, if he knew what she did to her father?

She breaks his gaze with that thought. It’s too much. “My sister,” she says instead, and it doesn’t feel right to look back. Under oath, Reyna would say that Jason is the most important person in her life. Her best friend; the person she sees every day, talks to every day, eats with and works with. He is the closest thing she has to a family here. And she– And she loves him. Maybe as a little more than a friend. But talking about her sister while looking him in the eye feels too intimate, too intense. “She would like you.”

It is something to say, simply to say something, but maybe she isn’t wrong. There is something in Jason that reminds her of the Queen Anne’s Revenge, and not in the way that haunts her nightmares and twists her sheets around her until they become bonds she can’t quite break free of. Being on Blackbeard’s crew, that’s how Reyna learned hard work, in a way she never had before. It had instilled a drive in her, to change everything, to rewrite systems, to make something so beautiful it was unrecognizable. And perhaps Jason doesn’t have that same drive, but he knows the work. He goes out of his way to do it dirty and hard and long. He refuses to take the thousands of shortcuts he’s offered. And Hylla would admire that, she thinks.

“I had a sister,” he whispers.

For a second–just a second–she’s stuck. “What?”

“I had a sister.” He picks at a loose thread on his jeans for a moment, and that’s how she knows he’s serious, because he hates ripping his jeans more than almost anything else. He’s refusing to meet her gaze. “Thalia Grace.”

He says her name soft and tender. She can imagine him, standing over a hearth, cradling the name between his palms and looking at it the same way he first looked when he was gifted Ivlivs. Big, round eyes.

“That’s really nice, Jace,” she says, because he rarely surprises her, and for once she doesn’t know what to say.

He looks up at her, smiling tightly. His eyes are sad. Is that how she looks when she thinks about Hylla?

“You can tell me about her, if you want,” Reyna says when the moment becomes two, and then three, because Jason doesn’t bring up things he doesn’t want to talk about. But Jason also has his own ideas about debt, about worthiness, and it is clear to her that he told her about his sister in exchange for Reyna talking about her own.

He smiles at her. A real smile, if small. She feels warm, and it’s not from his extra thick sweatshirt.

“I don’t remember a lot about her, but… She had black hair. So dark, like the night. And her eyes, they were amazing. Bright blue, like a perfect sky. Sometimes I can see them, in this half-memory half-dream, and they’re so strong they look like how an electric shock feels.”

“Like yours,” she whispers, and Jason hums in a way that makes it frustratingly unclear if he heard her or not. She hopes not.

“When I was little,” he continues, after another moment of staring wistfully over the Twelfth Legion, “I used to imagine she was looking for me. That one day she would find me, here, be proud of me for– I don’t know what. Love me, or something. All that stupid shit.” He trails off again, picking at his nails, but she can’t bring herself to chide him.

There are things that she knows about Jason, true as the sun rising in the east and the pull of the moon on the tides and the sound of imperial gold on whetstone. She knows that he works hard, works with the public, flushes under the compliments of people older than him because he has never had a concrete parental figure. Not even one to hate, to fear, to mourn. She knows that he never trusts praise from these people because he knows his parentage, knows they know, knows that he is connected to his father in the eyes of these people in a way he doesn’t feel himself, and never will.

Truths of Jason that are pillars in her understanding of him, that were pivotal in their relationship. But like so many supports, they were never acknowledged. Truth has no need to be stated, and she has no compellence to state that which is unnecessary. He talks of Thalia, telling Reyna that he wants his sister to want him, to find him, and to love him not because he is a son of Jupiter, but because he’s him.

She doesn’t say, I don’t care about you because you’re the son of Jupiter, I care about you because you are my best friend. And she doesn’t say, I care about you because you listen to people, because you care about them and what happens to them so instinctively that I cannot understand it. She doesn’t say, I’m proud of you, and you should be proud of yourself.

She doesn’t say those things because he knows them, because they are truths, and truths do not need to be said.

But still, something must be done.

She– She’s always been bad at the physical things. She can do a handshake, a fist bump, but she has never been a hugger, no matter that Jason is. She’s never managed a hip-check, or a shoulder pat, or ruffled his hair in any way that wasn’t rough and meant to hurt.

But that doesn’t mean she can’t try.

She goes slow, leaning over slightly, feels the cool breeze breaking on her knuckles. Gently, perhaps more gently than she has done anything in her life, she takes his hands, detangles them, presses her finger pads against the bleeding bits where he’s torn his skin away. She closes her hands around his own, cups them in her palms.

He looks up at her, tears welled on his water line but nothing has spilled, and she feels his hands move in her own, feels him latch on, like when they were young and late for assignments, running across the grounds and refusing to leave each other behind. She looks into his eyes, wide. Electrifying. Just like she knew they were.

She waits for the moment to stretch and break, like moments oft do. Her last move is to give his hands a squeeze, hopefully reassuring, and he gives her another small smile and moves to wipe his eyes with the sleeves of her sweatshirt, the one he’s still wearing.

“We should probably be going to bed,” she says, because she doesn’t have anything else to say. He laughs, wetly, but in that way everybody laughs when they’re told something they already know. It makes her smile; it’s special when he does it.

Everybody isn’t wrong, she thinks as she and Jason part ways outside their rooms, Jason Grace is special. But not because he is the son of Jupiter. He’s special because Reyna had never wanted friends, and here he is, her best. He’s special because he does things, normal things, and they make her smile. He’s special because he does everything in his power to ensure he deserves the love he receives. And gods, she thinks, does he deserve it.

She slips off her necklace and gets under her duvet cover, curling up and fiddling with the cuffs of his sweatshirt. Chunks of the polyester-wool fabric are hard and melted from undoubtedly unfortunate rendezvous with electricity. She finds one, right where his thumb would rest, and rubs it between her own thumb and index finger as she falls asleep.

When she wakes up, she’s on a school bus.

—————

Others in this series: Amicus Certus in re Incerta Cernitur

#there's more info and clarifications in the end notes of ao3 so check those out #but i'm always happy to answer any questions about any of my writing #especially this series #chart writes #fic: Omnes una manet nox #jason grace #reyna avila ramirez arellano #Reyna!Swap au #alea iacta est #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #heroes of olympus #pjo fic #hoo fanfic #hoo #pjo #pjo fanfic #tw death mention #reyna ramirez arellano #riordanverse

[ultrahpfan5blog]

Brooklyn Nine-Nine: Season 5 Retrospective

Finished season 5 rewatch a few days ago. Season 5 was an eventful year for the show, on and off the screen. Off screen the show got cancelled on Fox, had a huge public outcry over the cancellation which included several celebrities, and then got picked up by NBC all in 48 hours. It was an exhilarating time as a B99 fan. Lot of stuff happened on screen as well, Jake and Rosa were in prison, team got them out, Jake and Amy got engaged, Rosa came out as bisexual to the precinct and her parents, Holt was in the running to be NYPD Commissioner, Amy became a Sergeant, and then Jake and Amy got married. Eventful season to say the least. Its also my favorite season of the show.

Honestly, this season is about as close to perfection I felt with a season. In other seasons there are at least an episode or two which I felt were meh or problematic. Season 5 is near flawless. I think Return to Skyfire is the weakest of the episodes but its still pretty fun. There are several episodes of season 5 that all rank in the top 10 B99 episodes in my opinion. The show also takes some risks with a couple of experimental episodes. There are episodes with a lot of heart, there are episodes that absolutely hilarious, there are ensemble episodes, there are two hander episode. some excellent new guest stars, and many great recurring stars.

I think the two prison episodes are pretty interesting. Tim Meadows as Caleb is absolutely amazing. He is so likable and low key hilarious that the fact that he's a cannibal who eats children always feels like a dark surprise. He and Andy Samberg make for a fun duo. The first of the two episodes is particularly fun. The show doesn't hesitate to show the danger of Jake being in the prison, especially the situation he finds himself by the end of the premiere. The show does connect one story to the next pretty seamlessly with the end of the Melanie Hawkins story connecting the the Seamus Murphy story which then connected to the Holt commissioner story. There are also a couple of really good experiments in experiments and story with The Box and Show Me Going. The Box is B99 at its most confident. Apart from Gina very briefly at the beginning and Boyle very briefly at the end, the entire episode really hinges on only three characters. Jake, Holt, and Sterling K. Brown's Dr. Davidson. Its a brilliant showcase for all three actors and all three characters. I believe Brown got a Guest Actor Emmy nomination for his performance and he's brilliant as the smarmy Dentist who really is in control for majority of the episode. Braugher and Samberg were old pros with their dynamic at this point and this is fantastic Jake and Holt episode because you completely get why Jake wants so badly to prove that he's right in front of Holt why being cast as the screw up and the idiot in the interrogation frustrates him so much because we know how much Holt's approval means to him. We also see why Terry call Jake his best detective back in season 1 because of how he riles up Davidson to get the confession at the end and getting the approval of Holt that he wanted. Its an incredibly satisfying episode and one of the show's best imo. Then there is also 'Show me Going' which is a surprisingly tense episode in which nothing tense actually happens on screen. The episode does a great job working with the fact that the only knowledge the squad has is that Rosa is on the scene of an active shooter situation. Basically we are in the same situation as the characters. Since all the characters are on edge, so are we. The show does a nice job balancing humor and recognize the danger of the situation.

The season has probably my favorite B99 episode and definitely by fav B99 Halloween episode with HalloVeen. Whereas the last three Halloween episodes were predictable or spoiled from the promos, this one actually threw a genuine surprise. I knew Jake and Amy would get engaged some point in the season, but I expected it to be on the much hyped 99th episode. Instead it can much earlier with HallowVeen and its a delight from start to finish. Its great to rewatch the episode because you pick up little signs that Jake was a bit more desperate to win than usual. First when he says that planning for the heist is what got him through prison time, and then when he says to Boyle that he has to win this time and this heist is way too important. On first watch, these details just slip by as regular overzealous Jake but they have additional poignancy on repeat. The actual proposal moment is handled beautifully in a very peraltiago way where it is both funny and romantic, with Charles' reaction being the cherry on top. There are quite a few strong related episodes that follow. The Venue being a fun return with the Vulture, Two Turkeys being a TWW reunion with Smits and Whitford returning as Amy and Jake's fathers. Its a better Thanksgiving episode than the previous season Smits appearance. Bachelor/ette party is another glorious episode with wild, fun shenanigans with Reginald VelJohnson appearing as himself. Jake & Amy is a very typical wedding episode where everything goes wrong but its perfect in all the right ways. Its heartwarming and sweet. You get more examples of how Jake and Amy are perfect for each other with Jake knowing the inside and outs of how Amy stresses out, and then ending on a wonderful B99 wedding with Fred Armisen returning to make a cameo appearance as Mlep(clay)nos. The episode was designed to work as a series finale since the potential for cancellation was there and while it leaves the season on a cliffhanger about Holt's job, its the sort of cliffhanger that we could have interpreted positively if the show hadn't gotten picked up by NBC.

The 99th and 100th episode of the show were also memorable. The creators chose to acknowledge the 99th episode in a way that most shows acknowledge the 100th episode, in true 99 style. Its a full ensemble episode barring the absence of Chelsea who would return on the 100th episode. Its a typical road trip episode which kickstarts the Holt commissioner storyline. It also is the episode where Rosa comes out as Bi to Charles. This was obviously a big story for Stephanie since she is bi as well and she championed this story. It gets explored in further depth next episode, but Stephanie Beatriz gets to do some of her best work in these two episodes, showing her vulnerability without losing her toughness. Game Night honestly feels very true to not just coming out as Bi to your parents but true to any child who has to confess something that would be against their conservatives parents' values. I think Game Night is a fantastically bittersweet episode and Danny Trejo is brilliantly cast as Rosa's father. The episode positions him as the parent whose reaction Rosa is most worried about and I love how they show that while its difficult for him to grasp the concept bisexuality, he comes around to accepting it and accepting Rosa. But the episode is still bittersweet with Rosa's mom not having come to terms with it. Its also an excellent Rosa and Jake episode where we see Jake endure incredibly uncomfortable situations to help Rosa. Its a characteristic that helps make Jake so endearing that he's willing to cross all limits for his friends.

There are lots of fun and hilarious episodes in between. Craig Robinson shows up as Doug Judy in The Negotiations which is another fun ep. Kevin and Jake get a great episode dealing with their dynamic in Safe House. Rosa and Amy have some fun in White Whale as the Sleuth Sisters. Pimento returns in Gray Star Mutual for some more crazy shenanigans. Gray Star Mutual also has my favorite cold open of all time with Jake leading a suspect lineup in a rendition of 'I got it that way', totally forgetting the crime that he's got the lineup for. Its pitch perfect and I've lost count of how many times I've seen that cold open on youtube. It basically has its own fanbase and introduced so many people to B99. We also get to see Naseem Pedrad as Jake's sister Katie and the end up having a cute dynamic. David Fumero shows up in The Puzzle Master. There are also pretty funny episodes dealing with some serious subject matter such Jake dealing with his own doubts in his ability to do his job after Prison in Kicks and Holt dealing with gambling addiction in Bad Beat. All handled very sensitively.

All in all, this was a fantastic season for the show. I had a blast rewatching it and it ended the Fox era in spectacular note. A 9.5/10. Now on to season 6.

'

#b99 #brooklyn nine nine #brooklyn 99 #raymond holt #jake peralta #terry jeffords #amy santiago #rosa diaz #charles boyle #gina linetti #andre braugher #andy samberg #melissa fumero #terry crews #stephanie beatriz #joe lo truglio #chelsea peretti #peraltiago #sterling k brown

[delusional-mishaps]

General headcanons for the boys? Like what are they like in general?-😗🔪 anon

under the cut :)

sorry this took me so long my brain is empty and ive never wrote my hcs down before so i had to try to remember them 💀

also dont mind the spelling errors you may find i wrote most of these half awake

Arbiter (Undertale Sans):

he really likes outdated memes. the older they are, the funnier.

he doesn't really remember resets, he depends mostly on Frisk to either fill him in on why they did it, or cues that they have already been in this situation before. he's aware that something isn't right and that deja vu shouldn't be lasting for this long...

he also gets dreams that are basically memories of past resets. good or bad memories, they always leave him feeling awful. it's either a timeline he could have had, or a timeline where he lost everything

gaster is their father because i love dadster but the reason i'm mentioning this is because he sort of forced arbiter to learn about astrophysics so he could have someone he could rely on no matter what. when no one else would believe in his skills to get them to the surface, he knew his own son wouldn't turn on him

so, yes, that implies the machine in the basement lab was supposed to get then to the surface. after gaster fell into the core (with arbiter watching), arbiter took over. he learned everything he knew from gaster, but he didnt learn everything so it wasn't enough knowledge to continue past a certain point.

he befriended grillby because grillby and gaster used to be friends and gaster would take arbiter to the bar for breaks between working on the machine. grillby later became a reminder of gaster, and it comforted him slightly

when he and champ were children, gaster was often too busy being the royal scientist so he raised champ basically on his own. it made him realise how hard it is to raise a kid and he would never want to do it again.

he's perfectly fine without his own children, but he'd be more than happy to be the cool uncle to both frisk and, if champ ever wanted children, them too

him and toriel are besties 😫😫 entirely platonic because i said so 😐 admittedly, he did used to have a crush on her while the two traded jokes through the door but when he learned she was the queen and was much older than him, the crush sort of died

he prefers baths over showers because one time he fell asleep in the shower and fell over and knocked down every single bottle. he's scared he'll fall again so at least if he falls asleep in the bath, all he has to worry about is waking up in cold water

Champion (Undertale Papyrus):

he takes his job as monster mascot super seriously, and he's become quite famous!

he wants to see the best in everyone, he wants to believe everyone is capable of kindness

he's not as naïve as he appears, he knows so much more than he lets on

he really likes those street performers, specifically the magicians. it's so cool to watch humans doing card tricks! he wants to learn

REMEMBER HOW HE LITERALLY FLIES OVER YOUR HEAD AFTER HIS FIGHT IN THE GAME? it's gravity magic, but he actually does it a lot its SO FUNNY

he'll just start floating over someone if they're in his way but he doesn't want to bother them I LOVE HIM SO MUCH

controversial take but he can also shortcut 🤨🤨 he just doesn't much because running builds his muscles even if he doesnt have any...

he is the funniest person you will ever meet, and most of it is unintentional too. he's just such a silly lil guy

we all know arbiter thinks he is the coolest, but champion thinks arbiter is the coolest. only the coolest monster alive could raise the great champion!

i used to have a headcanon that, when he got to the surface and the royal guard pretty much disbanded, he would pursue a job as a physiotherapist. i think this headcanon mostly started as a self indulgent "what if papyrus was my physiotherapist" for when i needed physio after i dislocated my knee for the second time, but i think it would honestly fit him! he'd get to help people heal, all while encouraging them to stay fit!

Phobos (Underfell Sans):

he doesn't like puns because he's not clever enough to make them. he can tell a mean knock knock joke, though

he's such a big car guy, he has little models of them and everything. his goal is to restore at least one old car in his life, he doesn't ever care what kind

he's really reclusive. not for any reason, he just prefers to be alone

YOU KNOW SUSIE FROM DELTARUNE? he laughs EXACTLY like her, head throw back, one hand over his eyes and the other on his stomach

he hates his brother's cat with a PASSION. she's always in his room and getting her fur all over everything

it isn't just doomfanger he doesn't like, either. he doesn't like most animals. they either need constant attention or they're messy, even worse if they're both.

while he doesn't like pets, he'll gladly keep plants. he's not exactly the best at caring for them, they often end up either over watered or forgotten, so his brother has to take care of them but he loves them <3

he names the plants.

i think its weird when people give him only one HP? like i know Arbiter only has one, but in Underfell they have dust on their hands. they have LV, and it raises your HP, at least if you go off what happens to Frisk when you kill a monster. he's still have really low HP, but it certainly wouldn't be 1. i think it'd at least be in double digits.

Deimos (Underfell Papyrus):

he's really soft on his brother considering the world they grew up in. phobos could have just left him on his own as a child, but he didn't. it's his own way to show his brother how grateful he is

i hate everyone who gave them an abusive relationship fuck you guys/th family comes first if you're not protecting your family in this world you are shunned. so no, he doesn't be mean to his brother to "keep up appearances", they are NICE TO EACH OTHER and they LOVE EACH OTHER even if it tough love. maybe that's all they know because of their violent world 😡😡

sorry it's three am and i am very passionate about that.

he's actually a big baby. and the only one who knows is his brother.

HONESTLY he's not as mean as people make him out to be. he's a really big nerd, he would totally love silly nerd things like Sci Fi movies and stuff

he really likes the Nightmare on Elm Street movies. he'll fight his brother (a notorious Friday the 13th fan) that Freddy is better than Jason

he's really strict and, in a world that's Kill or be Killed, he would still follow any laws still in place to a T. he is OVERWHELMED by the amount of laws he has to remember on the surface, but he would rather die than do something illegal.

he literally won't even jay walk like dude it's fine no one cares 💀

he's a very good cook because i'm a sucker for that sort of thing. he still originally "learned" how to cook from Undyne, but when he saw how horrible of a cook she was, he decided it'd be best if he learned on his own

doomfanger was literally picked up off the side of the road. deimos is a sucker for cute animals and he would probably bring in any stray he saw if his brother didn't stop him

Firefly (Underswap Sans):

while he does own a motorcycle, his main mode of transportation is a dad van. one of those minivans that have a tv in it and the doors have buttons to open and close them

he is very obviously the older brother

tacky tourist dad outfits

he's the dad friend.

he is the older brother and he likes puns and he has 1 HP and you can pry that hc outta my cold dead hands. actually no you cant cuz ill hold onto it in death 😋😋😋😋😋

he didn't join the royal guard because he wanted to, he did it because he felt like it would help protect his brother if anything were to happen. the only reason he isn't allowed to actually join the guard is because of his low HP

Meridian (Underswap Papyrus):

he started smoking as a way to calm his anxiety and grew dependent on it. he knows how much it bothers his brother so he is trying to stop the habit, switching to suckers instead.

he's really good at art but he gets embarrassed whenever someone wants to look at it cuz he thinks it's bad

he doesn't necessarily dislike puns, but he pretends to just so his brother will make more. it makes him really happy to see firefly enjoying his horrible humour

he's the judge in his AU but, unlike Arbiter, he doesn't have karma so he has to use more powerful attacks if Chara ever went on a geno run

Leo (Swapfell Sans):

as said here; they have the aesthetic/looks of fellswap red, although i think i like the outfit for fellswap gold sans more 😇😇

older brother

he's not as mean as he appears to be, it was mostly to keep up a scary reputation so less monsters would bother him and his brother

he has relaxed significantly while on the surface, putting up less of a "tough guy" act, now only one when needed

he hates human politics soooo much. they are all stupid and crooks. granted, his own queen is a tyrant which isn't much better, but at least she is honest with her crimes

if i wanted to make him the oldest out of everyone, i CAN 😡. he is 53 in human years and he is tired and he just wants a glass of wine please just let him have a single glass of wine

he's super busy all the time and he hates it 💀 he is still a sans, he still likes to be lazy

Cav (Swapfell Papyrus):

he has the biggest sweet tooth

he doesn't talk much, due to just being shy

his physical looks is similar to fellswap red papyrus.

he falls in love really easily and tends to get hurt more often than not due to his little puppy crushes

he likes to game, mostly cutesy farm simulators like stardew valley or other games like that, but he also really enjoys online games like COD or Overwatch :)

SPEAKING OF GAMES OH MY GOD he would love genshin impact and he would grind for primogens and somehow he would ALWAYS GET THE CHARACTER HE'S WISHING FOR.

Pisces (Horrortale Sans):

semi-nonverbal

his head injury makes it hard for him to get words out, and even then, his mind is pushing through so many thoughts that he'll lose track of what he was saying midway through.

he has taken to write down what he wants to say, that way if he forgets halfway through, he can just read what he already has written to try and jog his memory.

i'm pretty sure it's canon that he never ate humans?, but yeah he hasnt 😇😇

this isn't a hc about him, but i like to think that Frisk never willingly left them. in their timeline, monsters were targets of a lot of hate crimes so they RESET and did a neutral run. they didn't want the monsters to miss them, so they didn't bother befriending any of them, which led to Undyne taking over instead of Toriel. if they knew what happened after they left, they would have figured something else out. Pisces thought they just didn't like them anymore and wanted to leave them behind.

OKAY so you know how he is a part of the bad guys? WELL IT'S NOT BECAUSE HE IS A "BAD GUY", GRIMM JUST SAW POTENTIAL IN HIM AND GAVE HIM A WAY OUT OF THE FAMINE!!!!! he's mostly like a dad who can cook really well and acts more like your friend than your dad yunno?

he never hurt others because he wanted to, it was just because he wanted to survive </3

if you ignore him being in the bad guys, then the way they got onto the surface in their AU was because he was secretly hoarding the SOULS to the humans he killed and he broke the barrier himself. ugh he's so strong and cool look at him go

Aries (Horrortale Papyrus):

he HATES the braces he has to wear to straighten his teeth. they get in the way and he can't enjoy all the food he wants to.

HE HAS A DOG ON THE SURFACE!!! a really big fluffy great pyrenees. she's beautiful and he takes her to the groomers often to deal with the shedding :) her name is fluffy, named by Pisces

pisces didn't want him to know what they ate during the famine, but he isn't stupid. he's well aware he had consumed human flesh. he feels guilty for it, even guiltier that he had enjoyed it.

despite just being an older papyrus, due to what he has seen and been through, his personality had changed a bit. he has a much shorter temper with others, and he wouldn't allow his guard down around threats.

he makes his own clothes if/when he can because he prefers clothing that fits 🤨

Hop (Dancetale Sans):

he gets really embarrassed while dancing in front of other people. he gets embarrassed doing it alone in his room sometimes too 💀

he's more lethargic than any other sans (quite the feat) but that's mostly because he doesn't really dance all that much and it takes a toll on his body. monsters naturally dance so for him to repress all his urges it strains him physically and makes him more tired

he's good at beatboxing smh

he used to be really confident in himself but with his hope going down, and with him stopping dancing, he lost his confidence

he feels like he'll never be as good as a dancer as he once was which just adds to the reason why he wont dance anymore.

Boleos (Dancetale Papyrus):

LISTEN LISTEN HE IS SO COCKY

like you would not BELIEVE how cocky he is oh my GOD

its okay he had reason to because he is so epic 🙄

he's tried out hiphop once for his brother but he made a fool of himself. he'll claim that day never happened if anyone were to bring it up 💀

he loves reality TV, and i know it's cliche but he loves the dancing shows 🙄 dancing with the stars (he was on that show once), dance moms, any other dance show that i've never heard of...

he is a very famous dancer and he's probably weaselled his way into some broadway show just to flaunt his dancing

Callisto (Outertale Sans):

he is probably my shortest boy

very shy/easily flustered

shut up i just think he is cute and i can make him easily flustered if i want to

this is a popular hc but he floats when he's embarrassed and i love it <3

living in space gives him a boost on astrology. he can identify every single known constellation and he knows really bizarre space facts that most likely no one else would know

the lower gravity of the moon is really handy to him cuz he could jump up and take a nap wherever he wanted. just kick his legs up and fall asleep mid air

Pandora (Outertale Papyrus):

LISTEN HE'S SO FUNNY TO WATCH WALK AROUND he loves playing with the low gravity cuz he'll just start jumping around and it looks like he's basically flying because he also uses his gravity magic like champ ugh

sometimes he gets distracted by it and forgets what he was going to do 💀

sometimes he will float off the face of the planet ON PURPOSE and it always freaks everyone else out because "oh my god how does he keep doing this he is going to get lost in space one of these days"

yeah he's a trouble maker. yeah he thinks its funny to see others reactions. yes he feels bad if he pulls a particularity mean jape. love him <3

Crow (Birdtale Sans):

collects shiny things!!!!

when he gets anxious, he tends to pull feathers from his wings. it helps to ground him, but it also sometimes leaves him with bald spots when he has a panic attack

he loves going flying on the surface, being able to see the world he was locked under really makes him appreciate the beauty of the earth

he'll perch on a tree to nap all the time. despite him being a grown adult, it still makes others worry because they don't know where he is when he disappears for extended hours

Carrion (Birdtale Papyrus):

he also collects shiny things HABAIBD

he prides himself in his wings so he takes really good care of them

he and his brother both have SUPER good memories

he likes to sit high up in trees, especially in the morning to watch the sun rise

speaking of the sun rise, he always wakes up before it to watch it, he loves the pretty colours the sky can make

Aero (Killertale Sans):

shameless

he is a menace to society

he loves deez nuts jokes tell me otherwise (maybe i'm just projecting )

he is actually really mentally unstable. the liquid hatred coming from his sockets affects him badly, and he's prone to lashing out at random times

ik i already said he is shameless but i dont think you get it, he could literally do anything without being embarrassed about it. ANYTHING

so of course he is a masochist. he's also sadistic but he likes pain to be inflicted on him for some reason 🙄

he and vendetta are besties idc IDC

Vendetta (Dusttale Sans):

he doesn't like others to see his emotions because he's afraid they will use it against him. something makes him happy? he's afraid it'll be ripped from him. something makes him sad? someone may use that against him as a weak spot. he hides behind a mask of indifference towards everything

he doesn't trust easily. not after frisk; not after they've taken so many things from him over and over again until he went insane. he is very good at pretending he trusts someone though. you may think he trusts you when in reality he doesn't at all.

the papyrus he sees is only a figment of his imagination, a manifestation of what he's done to his brother, to everyone in his AU. it isn't nice and it often ridicules him. it goes away when he gets distracted, but when he's alone, the voice is louder than ever. it takes the form of Papyrus because he is the one he regrets having to kill the most

he is very sadistic and he doesn't fight fairly at all. if he knows he is losing, he'll try to distract his opponent to get a few easy hits in. against a weaker opponent, he takes glee in watching them struggle to not get hurt and, eventually, killed

he has one of the highest LVs in the multiverse

Vex (XTale Sans):

he gets really jealous of other AUs and how they all got their stories. he's jealous that he never got that, that his own AU died and left nothing but him (and Chara, technically, but they don't really count)

he still acts as if he is a royal guard, even if his AU is long gone and he no longer has to

he speaks like semi-formally??? like he would always say "you are" instead of "you're" and stuff like that idk

do i think it's funny that he wouldn't know how the internet works? yes. do i also think it's funny that he would use tiktok? absolutely. it is the only social media account he has, and no matter how hard anyone tries to find it, they can't. he has all of them blocked because he's actually kind of embarrassed about it, but he has a lot of followers. he makes sure his face isn't in any of the videos just in case 💀

he may be a part of the bad guys, but he is also really good friends with sunny. they like to go out and spend their afternoons in cafés like cute little old people do they're so silly. they like to tell each other embarrassing secrets the others have it's how sunny found out vendetta actually sings in the shower

Delusion (Error):

uses he/they pronouns!

he makes dolls of the people he is close to, or if he finds them interesting enough

they can tamper with the code of any AU, and if he really wanted to, he could fix any mistakes within the code. they never do, though, as their job is to destroy AUs, not fix them

speaking of, he does what he does because it is his job, he was created to destroy AUs. he mostly takes out aus that arent fully finished or abandoned by the creator

i headcanon him as aromantic asexual. he's more-so demiromantic, and he needs a REALLY good connection with someone to actually be interested

along with haphephobia, they also have a fear of germs. the two fears go hand in hand, bouncing off each other to create a whole mess of situations

that leads into this next headcanon; he used to have a cat but the hair everywhere really bothered both of his phobias so he ended up giving it to graphite to take care of

the cat, originally, was supposed to be a sort of "exposure therapy" to get over his haphephobia because he didn't want to crash just because someone touched him. it didn't work out.

he and fresh and siblings <3 why? because i said so.

Graphite (Ink):

he is a very physical person, always wanting to be touching someone

not held back by meagre things such as GENDER or PRONOUNS! he doesn't mind what pronouns others use, they just mostly use he/him.

he never really feels anything, not even with the paints that give him "emotions". they more so just tempt him to act a certain way, a subconscious message that he should do something that related to that emotion; like cry when "sad"

i like to think he can break the fourth wall in the sense that he is helping creators with their own Au and/or projects within the already existing Aus. it's also mentioned here that he "supports the artist to keep contributing to the fandom".

BOUNCING OFF THE DELUSION HEADCANON, he loves the cat del gave him. he forgot it used to belong to del and now he thinks it's a gift. he won't listen to del saying otherwise because he thinks he is lying 💀

the cat is named doomsday and it was named by del. graphite had to write the name on his scarf to remember it 💀

Grimm (Nightmare):

he hates the taste of apples

he likes to garden! and he is very good at it. when he gets too worked up, he'll water his large garden by hand to calm down

fuck you/lh bad guy found family trope. he took them under his wing and he lets them live with him and he is the FATHER BECAUSE I SAID SO

i like to think he's like venom in the way that the physical manifestation of negativity is venom, a parasite inhabiting grimm's body. they are two consciousnesses living in the same body. the negativity is sort of a protector to grimm, too. maybe out of fear of losing the host, or because it actually cares for grimm, who knows. that's a secret i'll never tell :)

he's really good at chess and no one has beaten him yet 🙄

he isn't keen on having an s/o, he'll vastly outlive them and he also just doesn't really care about dating too much

he still lives in the rubble that is his original AU. he constructed the castle he lives in within the AU.

he's shorter than sunny. short king <3

sometimes you could find him in the ballroom of his castle, music coming from an unknown source as he waltzes by himself

Sunny (Dream):

he has a very... sunny... disposition.. hehe.. HAHAH

by that i mean he is often very chipper, you'll probably never see him anything but happy, no matter how long you're friends with him

it's not that he doesn't feel other emotions, he just doesn't like others seeming him sad/angry/any other "negative" emotion. he's supposed to be the positive of the two brothers.

he's constantly moving, literally. when he's sitting, he'll bounce his leg or shake his foot to remind himself that he can move and he isn't still trapped in his stone prison

because of him being trapped in stone by his brother, he has slight claustrophobia, along with cleithrophobia.

he is very good at comforting others

he's... honestly a little afraid of Grimm. he knows he should have tried harder to stick up for his brother back when they were still children, and he still feels guilty and responsible for Grimm's corruption, but he's afraid of how powerful he has become; how Grimm could just kill all those people who wronged him

#headcanons #undertale headcanons #undertale hcs #😗🔪 anon #how long has this taken me to write #i didnt nessecarily have any headcanons for most of them so i just had to make some up #help 💀 #sorry some of these are agressive i was in an agressive mood when i wrote some of them 💀 #tell me why headcanons for the outcodes were easier. pls #i use the skull emoji too much HELP ME #some of these probably go against canon but there are a reason they are HEADcanons #cuz my head cane up with them 😎😎😎

[ibijau]

“I’ve got a sick sense of justice, but you knew that.” 3zun fic? Where things work out between them, somehow, and yet JGY still kills JGS the same way and defends that choice to LXC and NMJ (Or JZX, if he's alive)? Can go full on JGS was stealing his women's energy, hence their sickness/deaths!

warning for mentions of death, rape and murder. Yay, it’s a happy one :D

Nie Mingjue storms into the cell, only for Jin Guangyao to look up and smile at him, as if he were welcoming him into his quarters, rather than locked up and in chains. He smiles just as peacefully to Lan Xichen when he follows their lover inside, pretending not to notice the other man's obvious distress. 

"I hope Da-ge and Er-ge will forgive me if I do not stand and bow to them," Jin Guangyao calmly says, rattling his chains. 

Nie Mingjue stares at him, taken aback. 

Even though they have reached a tentative peace between them, and Jin Guangyao often makes efforts to be more open with them than he is with anyone else, he still is the same person he always was. When he gets in trouble, he makes himself pathetic before them, almost on instinct. Sometimes it annoys Nie Mingjue, but other times it feels almost like a joke between them, as long as Jin Guangyao has that twinkle in his eye to show he knows he won't be taken seriously. 

To see him this calm and detached is unsettling. Nie Mingjue can only wonder if it has something to do with that large bruise on the side of his head. Going by the colour it is at least a day old. No cultivator of Jin Guangyao's level should have let this last this long. 

"Ah, this," Jin Guangyao notes, feeling their gaze. "Zixun was not very happy and let it be known. I am sorry to present myself before you in such a state, but my powers have been sealed, and I could not do anything about it. Please, just avoid looking at it." 

That makes Nie Mingjue frown. If Jin Zixun is behind one bruise, he's ready to bet there are more, hidden under Jin Guangyao’s clothes. He forces his mind to drift away from the worry he feels, because the real problem today is… 

"Did you do it?" Lan Xichen asks, something wavering in his usually calm voice. 

Jin Guangyao placidly looks up at him. 

"What do you think, Er-ge?" 

Lan Xichen trades a glance with Nie Mingjue. 

What they think is that Jin Zixun, who uncovered the plot against his late uncle, is not the most reliable man in the world, and holds a grudge against Jin Guangyao since that near fiasco with Wei Wuxian at Jin Ling's hundredth day party. 

They think also that he did bring convincing evidence. The most critical one is the testimony of a woman who took part in the murder of Jin Guangshan. She says she did not see the man who paid for her services, but she would recognise his voice. She also did see Xue Yang, and they all know the little creep respects no one except Jin Guangyao. 

They think that Jin Zixuan is desperately trying to prove his half brother's innocence, but finding it difficult. 

They think that Jin Guangyao has killed his superiors before. 

They think he promised he wouldn't again, and they both made the choice to trust him. 

And Nie Mingjue thinks, also, that although they've disagreed on means and motives, Jin Guangyao never strikes unprovoked, which he says out loud. 

The tenderness in Jin Guangyao’s eyes as he hears this is nearly unbearable. 

“Da-ge, are you really asking for my side of the story?” he asks in disbelief. 

It might be sincere. It might be feigned. Nie Mingjue never knows with him, just as he suspects Jin Guangyao never knows what to expect from him.

“We know your father was not… the kindest of men,” Lan Xichen says gently, kneeling down next to Jin Guangyao to send some spiritual energy into him and help him heal. Jin Guangyao sighs in relief, but keeps his eyes on Nie Mingjue even as Lan Xichen continues speaking. “You have let us know about some of the things he’s done, A-Yao, and I’ve long suspected there’s more you never told us. If he did anything to deserve such an end…”

“Of course he deserved it,” Jin Guangyao cuts him, still looking at Nie Mingjue. “You both know it as well as I do. He deserved it whether I had a hand in it or not. He was a selfish man. He only joined the Sunshot Campaign because he hoped to become what Wen Ruohan had been. He only took me in because his true son, forcefully kept from the heat of the action, failed to garner glory for Lanling Jin. And I won't get into the details of everything that happened with Wei Wuxian."

"But none of these things are why you killed him," Nie Mingjue retorts, suddenly convinced that Jik Guangyao really did it. 

Once, it would have filled him with rage to realise this. Back when he first understood what sort of a person his efficient and soft spoken friend was, when he saw Jin Guangyao murder his own captain… But since then, Nie Mingjue has learned to forgive, at least somewhat. Because when Jin Guangyao killed Nie Mingjue’s men in Nightless City, he took care to only murder those who once derided him for his background, to lightly wound the ones who never mocked him. 

It was still wrong, those were still good men, but Nie Mingjue, who had been burning for years with his hatred of the Wens, understood that better than he ought to have done. 

So there is no anger as Nie Mingjue too kneels down next to their lover. Only disappointment. In himself, for wanting to excuse this most awful crime. In Jin Guangyao, for not coming to them this time, when he thought something was wrong. They had listened about Wei Wuxian, they would have listened about this too. 

"Some brothels offer specialised services," Jin Guangyao says, the smile on his face shifting from loving to cold and polite, the way it used to be around his father. "I suppose this doesn't surprise you. Someone with money can always get what they want in this world." 

Both Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen nod uncomfortably. 

"Some of those services offered are of a rather different nature," Jin Guangyao goes on, his eyes growing distant. "They are difficult to perform, cannot be repeated, and cost an obscene amount of money… not to speak of the moral cost. It takes a certain kind of man to purchase such services. Believe it or not, even Xue Yang found it distasteful. For all the wrong reasons, but still, I think Da-ge and Er-ge will agree that it takes a lot to shock someone like Xue Yang."

Lan Xichen takes their lover's hand, trying to comfort him, but Nie Mingjue freezes. He is suddenly reminded of certain rumours, gossip so foul that it had to be exaggerated. He's always refused to pay it any mind, knowing well there were horror stories about him as well, as there always are against powerful men. 

He can't escape it now.

“It’s not hard to find human cauldrons, if you know how to look for them,” Jin Guangyao states in a voice devoid of any emotion, staring somewhere in the distance. “And some men will always look for an easy way to improve their cultivation, even if it means raping and killing a girl for it. There are addresses, and certain euphemisms. These days, you would ask to see a Wen girl. I’ve learned that a few years ago, people called them educated women.”

Nie Mingjue only frowns at that comment, but next to him Lan Xichen gasps in horror, squeezing Jin Guangayo’s hand.

“Your mother…”

Jin Guangyao blinks a few times, and forces himself to look at Lan Xichen. It appears to take him great effort. Nie Mingjue wonders if it is the topic that causes this, or if the blow to his head caused more damage than is visible.

“No, don’t worry. She was just actually educated. It didn’t mean the same thing in Yunping as it did in Lanling, but my father found her attractive enough for his other purposes, I suppose.” Jin Guangyao looks away again, his face growing harder. “Others were not as lucky. It is all too easy to get what you want, with enough money.”

“You should have told us,” Nie Mingjue says. “If you had come to us with proof…”

“My father is not so stupid that he would have left proof,” Jin Guangyao hisses between clenched teeth, still staring at the wall. “Even he would have had trouble justifying doing such a thing to augment his power. I only found out because I went to fetch him with Xue Yang at a brothel one day, and heard him discussing in detail his next… purchase. Xue Yang happened to be knowledgeable about certain euphemisms we were hearing, and thought it entertaining to explain to me. After this I started looking. It’s funny what you find, when you look for it. It wasn’t proof enough to openly attack him, not with my background. But it was enough to be sure. And then…”

Jin Guangyao chuckles darkly, his eyes finally meeting Nie Mingjue’s.

“I’ve got a sick sense of justice, but you knew that,” he says with unnerving calm. “Xue Yang was on board because he thinks that sort of thing is cheating. Torturing the dead and cutting them from their reincarnation doesn’t phase him, but he knows it could have been him, if he’d been born a girl. And so we did what had to be done. My father died the way he lived.”

He pauses a moment, taking in the expression on his lovers’ faces, from Lan Xichen’s horror at that confession to Nie Mingjue’s anger that once again, this took clever man made all the wrong choices.

“Nobody else would have dared to stand against him,” Jin Guangyao adds, smiling feverishly, his gaze on Nie Mingjue. “But I’ve always been one to do what others wouldn’t. Someone has to get their hands dirty, Da-ge. I’ve never minded doing it when my turn came. I wonder if you will, now that you know the truth? You’ve always been such a champion of justice, always telling others to be righteous. Let’s see what choice you make, now that justice isn’t such an easy thing to decide.”

#jin guangyao #nie mingjue #lan xichen #3zun #mdzs #not super happy with this one #I think jgy is probably pretty ooc here oops? #jau writes #today sucks I just needed to get something done #Anonymous

[lilflowerpot]

Soulmate AU where the marks on one person's skin show up on the other, but obviously they can't understand each other's writing, so Keith mostly just tries to express himself through art instead. So naturally, when he starts investigating the Blue Lion he starts drawing THAT too. Which is why, when Voltron shows up, Lotor is Dead Certain that the blue paladin is his soulmate, and he desperately tries to force himself to fall in love with Lance even while he's like "... Really? THIS guy?"

Lotor’s soulmate is not illiterate, but they may as well be. He’s compared their careless scrawl against every language in the Imperial data banks - thrice! - and it’s simply... not there.

“They’re a primitive,” Ezor nods sagely from where she’s half draped over his shoulder, eyeing the illegible lettering on his wrist with an entertained curl to her lips, “must be. Guess the universe wanted to counterbalance all your insufferable braininess.”

When Lotor shrugs her off with a snarl, she has the audacity to laugh.

Acxa’s kinder, or she tries to be, comforting him with the notion that if his soulmate is a primitive, they’re at the very least an educated one, or better yet of a more evolved society wherein knowledge of scripture is commonplace, so... they’re not feral.

Zethrid seems to half wish that they were, if only for the thrill of it.

“And the sex,” Ezor tacks on with an evil little grin, “the sex would have been fantastic.”

Her soulmate’s raucous glee drowns out any further discussion of the topic.

-

So they can’t communicate, not with words, but if Lotor’s soulmate is anything it’s tenacious (and the Prince can’t help but admire that). They come to the conclusion that pictures are the way to go, painting Lotor’s forearms with a veritable rainbow of quadrilaterals, each containing varying stripes and symbols, and then a series of dotted squiggles that Lotor is beginning to recognise as their approximation of a question.

The problem being he doesn’t actually know what it is that they’re asking.

There’s one rectangle - the majority of which is striped red and white, with a one contrasting quarter of stars in a blue sky - that his soulmate keeps coming back to, and Lotor realises it must be a clan symbol of a sort, indicative of their own people and culture, but... once again scouring Imperial logs turns up nothing of import. Frustrated, Lotor practically carves the hateful Imperial emblem into his palm with jagged lines of ink - Vrepit Sa - and turns in for the night.

In the morning, his arms are wiped clean.

They stay that way for a quintent.

Two.

On the third, he hears back, and it rocks his entire world view.

Kraliept Sa.

The lines are careful, deliberate, as if someone unfamiliar with the old scripture had taken great pains to transcribe that singular character, and Lotor quite simply can’t believe his eyes, because that would mean... that would mean that the only two things he knows of his soulmate are in direct contrast with one another: the first being that they are completely isolated from the Empire, and the second more impossible yet, that they have ties to the Blade of Marmora.

-

They continue this way for almost a decaphoeb, and it’s not perfect, but it’s something.

Lotor sends renderings of the stars, his ship, Kova, and in return his soulmate replies with sketches of the animals and sunsets and vast expanses of desert on an alien world.

One evening, they blur blues and greens into a perfect little marble on the inside of Lotor’s knee, an arrow pointing to one of the green patches labeled with a sequence of characters that the galra Prince is beginning to recognise as his soulmate’s name - though he can’t so much as begin to guess at how they might be pronounced - and so on the opposite knee Lotor paints Daibazaal, and then, because that feels inadequate, smears his thumb through the centre of the planet he no longer calls home, doodling a battalion of ships leaving the wreckage in a mass exodus, the children of an orphaned world.

And once more, his soulmate falls quiet.

-

It’s almost a full phoeb until they reach out again, and when they do Lotor finds them franctic, frightened, their little blue-green marble only the beginning; an entire solar system follows, complete with details such as what Lotor assumes must be an accurate number of moons on each planet for how deliberately they’re marked out, and then-

A ship.

It’s small and unassuming and positively archaic in design, but it’s a ship nonetheless, and as Lotor watches, his soulmate draws and erases and re-draws that same design until it’s traveled the length of his leg - thigh to ankle - and ‘lands’ on an unassuming moon of the most distant planet. They circle it with agitation, jabbing whatever implement they’re using to mark their own skin so violently that Lotor’s quite sure they must bleed under the force of it, but he doesn’t know what to say, let alone know how to say it if he did.

The next morning, his soulmate’s mural has gone.

The phantom ache of it remains.

-

They call him Champion.

Lotor only takes interest because of the timing, because of the circumstance, because it’s Sendak’s fleet that located these new lifeforms on a desolate moon in some distant corner of the universe, and of all Zarkon’s commanders he most of all has something of a reputation for toeing the line between cruelty and outright sadism.

The odds are one in a million, but that’s not a risk Lotor is willing to take.

He paints an obnoxious criss-cross of colour onto his own face that will be impossible to hide or mistake for anything other than what it is, and sends his generals to ascertain whether the Champion or either of the two lifeforms that accompanied him - soon to be subject to the work camps - share the mark.

They don’t, not one of them, and so Lotor chalks it up to coincidence and moves on.

Finding what could almost be mistaken for the legendary Blue Lion on the back of his hand only for Voltron proper to re-emerge into the universe after thousands of decaphoebs with the Champion himself allegedly at the helm, is not so easily written off.

And this time, when his soulmate abandons him to cold silence, it feels final.

-

Thayserix was very much a spur of the moment decision, but Lotor has never been so glad of such impulsivity as he is now, with the blue Lion of Voltron having been stolen from the thick mists and safely in his grasp.

Though, it’s not the lion that interests him.

Yes she’s a beautiful beast of considerable power, but in this case it is quite literally what’s on the inside that counts, that being of course Lotor’s soulmate... or so he’d thought.

Princess Allura of Altea cannot be them.

At least he certainly hopes not.

She’s lovely, in theory, but they’ve been in a stalemate for the past varga with her sullenly refusing to so much as consider entertaining Lotor’s attempts at hospitality, let alone conversation, and instead quite stubbornly standing with both her guard and weapon raised.

“I really would simply like to speak with-”

“Release me.”

Her end of things has consisted solely of those two words, and the monotony of it all really is growing rather tiresome.

Narti saves him from another repetitive bout, slinking into his mind and whispering that the rest of Voltron have located them far more quickly than Lotor would have thought possible.

The worst part is he’s almost grateful.

“Very well,” he growls, temper wearing thin, “your friends are here to collect you Princess, perhaps they will be more amenable to a little tête-à-tête, hm?”

They are not.

“Release Allura,” is the first thing to pass the dark-haired Paladin’s lips, teeth bared and tongue sharp, and it takes everything Lotor is not to simply concede on the spot.

“Frankly, I would love to,” he spits, gratified by how completely this blindsides the lot of them, every face on the holoscreen struck blank by his immediate compliance. “I do not believe she is the individual I am looking for, nor does she seem inclined to assist me in locating whosoever is. Answer my questions, and you are welcome to her and the blue Lion both.”

“We... We are?” It’s an older gentleman who speaks up, the only other altean among them.

“Absolutely,” Lotor hisses, and then graciously concedes: “the mistake was mine. I simply wished to open a dialogue with who I had assumed to be the blue Paladin, but as she is of a background that would doubtless have allowed us to communicate in galra script, that no longer seems the case.”

Their group look like they’re going to ask him to further explain what must sound to the lot of them nonsense... all except the black Paladin whose eyes have gone wide on some personal revelation, whispering “you,” as if he can’t believe his ears, only to spit out an obscenity before repeating himself with all the fury of an imploding star. “You!”

There are several exclamations of “Keith-!” as those violet eyes narrow to slits, the man smacking his hand down and cutting their com-line dead.

Ezor, helpful as ever, mumbles: “Well that went well,” quiet enough that it’s almost as if she doesn’t mean for everyone in the otherwise silent cockpit to hear her.

-

For the first time in ten thousand decaphoebs, the black Lion is - technically - in Imperial hands.

Lotor couldn’t care less.

The man who strides out of her is a veritable firestorm, all dark brows and snarling lips, and in a heartbeat Lotor knows, he just knows, who he is.

What he is.

Galra, for one, almost certainly a hybrid like Lotor - it’s the eyes that betray him, half luminescent with rage - and there’s a gorgeous poeticism to that.

Reckless for another, and behind him from where she’s been brought to stand witness, Princess Allura is clearly horrified to see her companion step from Voltron’s keystone and leave it completely unprotected, but the Paladin doesn’t seem to care, and neither does Lotor.

“Release Allura,” he growls again, voice like thunder and just as electrifying as he storms across the landing bay without hesitation, not even stopping to glance in his fellow Paladin’s direction and affirm that Zethrid has, in fact, released her as instructed.

No, Lotor’s soulmate simply fists pale fingers into paler hair and hisses, “fuck you,” into his mouth before kissing the Prince senseless.

-

Later - much, much later - Lotor is pleased to report back to Ezor that the sex is, in fact, fantastic.

#sorry/not sorry I wrote an entire ficlet thing but this was just TOO GOOD #this is totally self-indulgent but like.. if that's not the point of fanfiction then idk what is #one day I will actually write out a keitor soulmates au in full but today is not that day #so for the time being you will have to content yourselves with this #sa screams back #keitor #other aus #ficlet #prince lotor #keith kogane

[mala-sadas]

Shielded

Summary: Hop is on a losing streak, and Chairman Rose wants to talk to Leon about it. Leon just wants to keep his little brother from getting hurt.

Length: 2,435 words

Or, if you’d prefer: [Read on Ao3] [Read on FFN]

“Morning, Oleana!” Leon calls, jogging up to the door to the chairman’s office. The chairman's secretary stands in front of it, her arms folded and a scowl on her face. He flashes her a big smile, but her scowl only deepens.

“You’re late. Again.”

He chuckles. “I took a couple of unplanned detours on the way before Charizard took pity on me and steered me in the right direction.”

“The chairman’s time is a very valuable resource. You cannot keep wasting it like this and getting away with it, Champion,” Oleana hisses.

“Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry,” Leon says, dropping his smile. Once upon a time he would have tried throwing in a cheeky remark or a compliment to lighten the mood, but he’s learned by now that Oleana doesn’t appreciate that sort of thing. She doesn’t appreciate much of what Leon does, honestly, but the least he can do is try not to agitate her any more than usual.

Oleana narrows her eyes and steps aside, giving Leon access to the door. “I’m not the one you need to be apologizing to. Go inside. You’ve kept him waiting long enough.”

Leon nods and opens the door, heading into the office. It always feels larger and more spacious than it really is because there’s so little furniture inside; three of the four walls are covered in plaques, photos, and certificates commemorating all the brilliant things the chairman has accomplished. The last one is a row of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a magnificent view of Wyndon – just like viewing the city from atop Charizard’s back.

As he approaches the chairman’s desk, he looks out the windows at the people bustling about, going about their days with their Pokémon at their sides. There aren’t too many people out right now, but in a couple of weeks the streets are sure to be packed with visitors coming in for the Champion Cup. It’s his favorite time of year, both for seeing such a wide variety of people and Pokémon and for the thrilling battles that the Gym Challengers are going to have. He’s been counting down the days – between his little brother, his brother’s rival, and Piers’ little sister, this year’s Champion Cup is certain to be full of exciting and passionate battles.

“Something on your mind, Leon?”

“Huh?” Leon blinks, taking in the birds-eye view of Wyndon through the window in front of him. He turns around, realizing the chairman’s desk is still a few feet away. Chairman Rose has put down the documents he was reading and watches Leon with a bemused expression on his face. Leon smiles sheepishly, hurrying the rest of the distance to the chairman’s desk. “Sorry, I got a little distracted.”

“With you, I’m not surprised,” Chairman Rose says. He gestures to one of the two chairs on the opposite side of the desk. “Have a seat.” As Leon sits down, the chairman adds, “What was it this time?”

“Pardon?”

“What had you so distracted that you couldn’t make it from the door to my desk without making a wrong turn?” Chairman Rose asks, eyes sparkling with mirth.

Leon laughs. “I was thinking about the Champion Cup, actually.”

“Yes. It’s coming up soon, isn’t it?” Chairman Rose muses. “My, how the time flies.”

“Right? It feels like just yesterday that I was giving Hop and his friend their starter Pokémon and seeing them off on their journey,” Leon chuckles. “But soon, they’ll be right here in Wyndon, battling it out for the right to challenge me!”

“Assuming they make it that far, that is.”

“Of course they will! They’ve both got great potential as Trainers. I wouldn’t have endorsed them if they didn’t,” Leon adds with a playful smile.

Chairman Rose hums in acknowledgement. “That’s what I wanted to discuss with you, actually.”

Leon tilts his head. “The endorsements?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “Your little brother.”

Leon tenses. “What about him?” he asks. The last two times that the chairman had brought up Hop in conversation, he’d been looking for Hop’s assistance with something regarding the tests he was conducting at the Power Plant in Hammerlocke. Leon had made it clear both times that he didn’t want Hop getting involved with the chairman’s tests. But Chairman Rose is just as stubborn as Leon himself, so he doesn’t think that it’s the last attempt the chairman will make.

“I’m concerned about his performance in the Gym Challenge,” Chairman Rose says. “He’s been on a losing streak lately.”

“Oh, that,” Leon says, relaxing a bit. “I’ve noticed that too, but…it’s not unusual for Gym Challengers to lose some battles here and there. Hop is resilient – he’ll get through this. You don’t need to worry about him, Chairman.” He grins cheekily. “That’s my job!”

“Normally, I wouldn’t be,” Chairman Rose says, steepling his fingers on the desk. “But once it starts becoming bad for public image, that’s when I have to step in, I’m afraid.”

Leon’s grin fades. This kind of thing is exactly why he’s always tried to keep Chairman Rose as far away from his little brother as possible. “He’s just a Gym Challenger,” he says, keeping his tone level. “His public image is none of his – or our – concern.”

“No, no, Leon,” the chairman says, giving him a pitying smile. “It’s not young Hop’s image that I’m concerned about. It’s yours.”

His brow furrows. “Excuse me?”

“The unbeatable Champion endorses his little brother to take on the Gym Challenge,” Chairman Rose says with a flourish. “It’s a sweet gesture – the kind of thing that really catches the public eye and touches hearts. Unfortunately, that kind of attention has opened him up to greater scrutiny from the media, and with this losing streak, there have been harsher whispers… People are wondering if he’s really fit to be taking on the Gym Challenge.”

“Of course he is!” Leon retorts immediately. “I know my little brother; I’ve watched him battle. He’s got great instincts and he’s even more knowledgeable about Pokémon than I am. Once he learns to trust those instincts, he’s going to be–”

“You’re biased, Leon,” Chairman Rose interrupts. “It’s easy for you to overlook his faults because you’re so fond of him, but the truth is Hop’s just not as talented of a Trainer as you think he is. And the public is starting to take notice of that.”

“He’s… I’m not…” Leon trails off. He’s got so much potential – but doesn’t everyone? I’m not biased – but that’s exactly what someone who’s biased would say. Hop isn’t perfect, Leon knows that. But he can overcome those flaws and become a truly great Trainer…right? Or does Leon think that just because he’s blinded by love and pride for his brother?

“If not personal bias, the only other explanation is that you’re losing your touch.” Chairman Rose leans forward in his chair, staring Leon in the eye. “And that couldn’t be true, could it? You’re the unbeatable Leon. You can’t have weaknesses.” He leans back, drumming his fingers thoughtfully on the edge of the desk. “But, if the Champion endorses a Trainer who’s as weak as that… Maybe his eye isn’t as sharp as it used to be. Maybe his judgments are off. Maybe he’s not unbeatable anymore.”

Leon narrows his eyes. Are people really saying that about him, Galar’s beloved Champion, all because his little brother struggled in a couple of Gym battles? Or is this just Chairman Rose’s forward thinking going a step too far, trying to preemptively put a stop to rumors that may never spread about him at all?

“With all due respect, Chairman, this is all just speculation,” Leon says tersely, getting up from his seat. “I’m done with this conversation.”

“No, you’re not. Sit down. Now,” Chairman Rose says sharply, pointing a stern finger at the chair Leon just vacated. For a moment, it’s like he’s ten years old again, being chastised by the chairman like a father scolding his son. He sits back down on the edge of his seat without protest, but keeps his hands clenched tightly into fists. He doubts he’s going to like where this conversation goes.

Chairman Rose folds his hands and rests them on his desk. “We can’t have people going around thinking less of our Champion because he let his weak little brother take on the Gym Challenge. We have to do something about it.”

Leon clenches his jaw, resisting the instinct to defend his brother. Hop isn’t weak, but Chairman Rose has clearly already made up his mind on that particular point. If he wants make sure that whatever action they take won’t put Hop in the crossfire, he shouldn’t argue with the chairman any more than necessary. “What do you have in mind? I can’t just take back his letter of endorsement for no good reason.”

“Oh, you certainly can. But that’s not what I’m asking of you,” Chairman Rose says calmly. “I simply need you to…nudge him in the right direction.”

“You want me to tell him that he should quit the Gym Challenge,” Leon says flatly.

“Mm…don’t be so straightforward about it with him. But in essence, yes. If young Hop quits of his own accord, he’ll stop dragging down your good name and no one will know that we had anything to do with it. If anyone can convince him to do that, it’s you.”

Leon stares at Chairman Rose with his mouth dangling half-open, unable to form words to express just how appalling of a solution that is. The chairman has taken extreme measures to preserve Leon’s public image before, and Leon isn’t always happy with the role he has to play in them. But the chairman’s never asked him to do something as underhanded and manipulative as planting an idea in someone’s head – an idea that would make his brother miserable.

The last time he spoke to Hop, Hop had apologized to him for losing a battle. If he told Hop that those losses were starting to reflect poorly on him, how awful would Hop feel then?

Leon takes a deep breath, finally finding his voice. “No,” he declares. “No, absolutely not! I’m not going to – to trick my little brother into giving up the Gym Challenge to save face for myself!”

Chairman Rose sighs. “Fine, if you insist. I’ll just have to make some room in my schedule to go talk to him myself.”

“What? No, you can’t!” Leon exclaims, eyes widening.

“Why not?” Chairman Rose asks, raising an eyebrow. “I’m doing you a favor. You don’t want to have this conversation with your brother, so I’ll do it for you.”

“I don’t want anyone to have this conversation with my brother!”

“I’m sorry, Leon, but it has to be done. So, either you go talk to him, or I will.”

Leon folds his arms, considering his options. Letting Chairman Rose talk to Hop is the absolute worst one. Knowing him, he’d convince Hop to quit just by letting Hop think he’s too weak to complete the Gym Challenge, and he might even make Hop think that Leon wants him to quit. That’s the last thing Leon wants his brother to hear. If Leon talked to him, at least he could frame it as an opportunity to find something else to do with his life, something that would make Hop happier.

But even doing that would make Leon feel terrible – Hop’s dreamed of doing the Gym Challenge his whole life, and Leon wants to see him succeed. He wants to see Hop make it all the way through the Champion Cup and fight him for the title of Champion. And most importantly, he believes that Hop can do it. That’s what Hop really needs to hear.

“Chairman,” Leon says slowly, “I may be the Champion, but I’m also Hop’s brother. I’m supposed to support him, not tear him down. And I know how much he looks up to me. If he thought even for a moment that I didn’t believe in him, it would crush him.”

“So?”

“So, I’m not going to let you do something that would break my little bro’s spirits!” Leon retorts. “I’m not going to suggest to him that he should quit the Gym Challenge, and neither are you.”

Chairman Rose frowns. “I’m afraid that’s not an option, Leon.”

A rare flash of anger bubbles up in his chest. “Like hell it’s not!” he snaps, leaning forward in his seat. “Look, this is only necessary because Hop’s on a losing streak, right? So if I can get him out of this funk and back to winning, there’s no need for him to quit the Gym Challenge. I just need to talk to him.” His voice gets quieter, and his arms fall down to his sides. “Give me the chance to do that, Chairman. Please.”

It’s a desperate plea, but it seems to be enough. Chairman Rose is pragmatic, not heartless. He leans back in his chair, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Hmm. Has he challenged the Gym in Circhester yet?”

“No, sir. His battle’s scheduled at noon today.”

The chairman hums again, checking the time. “You won’t be able to make it there before it starts,” he muses. “Get going to Circhester, then. Talk to your brother. I expect to see improvement in his rematch.”

“And if he doesn’t need to rematch the Circhester Gym?” Leon asks.

“He will.”

Leon cracks a smile, even though he doesn’t feel like smiling. “I like to stay optimistic.”

“If he hasn’t improved in the rematch, I will be stopping by to have a word with him myself,” Chairman Rose adds.

Leon wants to protest, because if anyone has to tell Hop that he needs to drop out of the Gym Challenge, Leon would rather do it himself. But he’s already testing the limits of Chairman Rose’s generosity, and he’s hopeful that no one will need to tell Hop that at all. “Thank you, Chairman,” he says instead.

“That’s all. You’re dismissed.”

Leon nods, getting up from his chair and heading back towards the door. Rematches usually happen the day after the initial match, so he has about a day to figure out why Hop is struggling and help him work through it. Not quite as easy as a Pokémon battle, but still doable. And he can’t wait to see the look on Hop’s face when he finds out that Leon is visiting him in Circhester for a whole day.

By the time he reaches Oleana, still hovering outside Chairman Rose’s office, Leon’s not faking the smile on his face anymore.

#pokemon #swsh #pokemon swsh #champion leon #trainer hop #rival hop #postwick bros #chairman rose #fanfic #cw for gaslighting manipulation and overall dickish behavior from rose #it was a dark and stormy write #oddly enough this fic was inspired by me thinking about rose's influence on bede #but i made it about leon & hop because...i love them

[pastelsandpining]

The Master Sword

Summary: This is my take on memory 18, because the game’s version was far too happy for me. Zelda’s trip to Korok Forest was no easy feat, but she knew the sacred blade needed to return lest they lose it too.

Words: 2671 Warnings: this is Zelda after her entire kingdom was destroyed and all of her friends were slaughtered. it’s gonna deal with grief, survivor’s guilt, and other heavy themes.

CEO of posting works at midnight then being sad about the lack of notes

Masterlist

~~~~

Exhaustion was heavier than the sword strapped to her back.

Her legs screamed for her to slow down and her lungs burned from the ash in the air, inhaled in gulps as she wrestled with the grief in her chest. 

This morning, a beautiful sunrise greeted her from her window. Birds sang a song of love from their perch, and people bustled along the streets of Castle Town. She had a piece of her favorite dessert brought to her by her knight as a gift, and she walked through her lively, wonderous kingdom covered by green grass and wildlife beyond compare, to meet with her friends and conduct a day of prayer at the Spring of Wisdom.

It was a day just like any other, birthday or not. 

And now, that green grass was burning. That cerulean blue sky was painted red with clouds of ash raining down from every last bit of civilization she could see. The wildlife scattered, if there were any left at all. The fields of flowers were trampled by ancient technology that had gone from astonishing to terrifying—and out of their control.

She did not need Nayru’s wisdom to know that everyone from the castle, her home, to the outskirts of Central Hyrule had perished. She knew nothing of her friends, trapped within their once loyal machines, but she could not imagine they’d met a better fate.

And Link.

Zelda took a deep, shuddering breath and held tighter to the Champion’s Tunic that once matched his eyes. Now, it was covered in dirt and grime and stained with his blood. She wasn’t aware of the exact time, but she figured it couldn’t have been more than ten minutes since Hyrule’s hero had died in her arms. She didn’t allow herself any time to grieve—she couldn’t. 

Her despair reached far beyond the point of tears anyway.

She wiped at her eyes with her wrists, which managed hardly anything more than smearing the dirt on her face, and tried to even out her breathing as she reached Kakariko. Only then did she lower her pace and she didn’t have to search far for Impa, who was giving orders to her warriors. 

“Princess?”

Zelda pushed the tunic towards her dear friend and trusted it would say what her voice couldn’t. Some naive, stupid part of her hoped that if she didn’t speak it aloud, then it wasn’t set in stone.

“I can’t stay for much longer,” she explained, forcing her voice steady. “Two Sheikah have taken Link to the Shrine of Resurrection. When he returns, please, give him this.”

“How long-“

“As long as it takes.” 

In truth, she had no real reason to believe the shrine would work. Every last piece of Sheikah technology they’d entrusted was corrupted and turned against them. If the Calamity had that sort of power, then it was probable it could do the same to their last piece of hope. She prayed that wouldn’t be the case, because she didn’t want to think about what would become of Link, or his body, if something went wrong. 

“The sword,” Impa said, her eyes locked where the hilt peaked out from her shoulder. 

“I hope to return it to the forest, so that when he is ready, he can retrieve it,” Zelda explained, fidgeting with the strap. 

“And then..? What will you do, Princess?”

“Tell him that he must free the Divine Beasts if there is any hope of winning this.”

Impa’s face betrayed that she knew and Zelda turned away so she did not have to see the desperation on her loyal friend’s face.

“You can’t,” the Sheikah whispered. “We have no way of knowing— If the shrine does work, it could be years before Link is ready to face the Calamity again! No one can fight for that long, much less alone!”

“Stop,” commanded the princess. Her eyes traced the three golden triangles burned into the back of her hand and she closed it into a fist. “My entire purpose is to fight this Calamity. I refuse to do nothing when finally this power obeys me. Enough have died tonight.”

Her tone made it clear there was no hope in arguing. Her decision was final.

“Do you think.. Can we win this?” Impa asked instead with an awkward shift. She’d asked herself that same question many times within the last few hours and she wished that she could provide a complete answer. 

“I believe in Link,” she replied firmly, as if daring him to truly die on her. “Tell him that as well.”

Zelda had taken perhaps three steps forwards when Impa spoke again.

“Will you come back?”

“...you must do everything you can to aid him, Impa. Promise me that.”

“I promise.”

She couldn’t stand to waste more time, so she didn’t allow for any more questions. With a nod of appreciation to her friend, one that also served as a silent thank you and goodbye, Zelda broke into a sprint and didn’t stop until she was out of the village borders. Extreme physical activity was not of her forte and she’d done plenty of running already. Every bit of muscle in her legs protested against it. With an unspoken apology to everyone she had failed, she stopped trying to push herself.

She would need all of her strength. 

The strap was digging into her shoulder. Zelda slung the scabbard off of her back and chose to hold it in her hands instead. 

How many times had she looked up, seen him with this very sword on his back, and loathed it? How many times had she seen the blue metal glinting in the sun, the golden triangles crafted with such precious precision, and felt defeated?

Zelda could laugh. Defeat surrounded her and it was far heavier than her tantrums. It was even heavier than the steel in her grasp. She found it ironic, yet heavily fitting, that she would be the one to carry the blade she once detested to its resting place, that she would be the one to hold its wielder as he died, when she once loathed him so, that she, the one who could not fulfill her role, would be the sole survivor left to fight the Calamity. 

She wondered briefly, stumbling over a rock, or maybe her own exhaustion, whether or not they had made it to the Shrine. Did they lay his body to rest? Could they see his wounds healing? Was it slower than that, or was it just a futile attempt of grasping at straws?

A nearby screech startled her. Without much thought for what she was doing, she’d unsheathed the Master Sword and, with both hands on the blade, swung with all the might she had left. The Bokoblin fell before her without another sound, but the momentum of the swing kept her moving until she, too, was doubled over. The sword, with its tip driven into the dirt, was her only crutch. 

How Link was ever able to swing something so heavy with such ease baffled her. Or perhaps it was just because her hands were clumsy with weapons of any sort.

Zelda pushed herself upright and picked the scabbard up from the ground. With a little difficulty, she slid the sword back into its holder and continued her trek towards the forest.

It was hard to ignore the burning fields all around her. It was hard to ignore the guardians soaring overhead. She was careful to avoid their search beams because she didn’t think she could spare any of the sealing power for them. 

Part of her felt for them. She knew they were machines—no more than hunks of metal on legs, but there was tragedy surrounding them. Pieces of technology that were so advanced, that she loved, that were created with the sole purpose of helping Hyrule, were abandoned as soon as the Calamity was sealed. Their creators were exiled, their kind were banned, and they, too, were lost to the sea of time. Buried and forgotten, until they were needed again. And as fate would so cruelly have it, they were twisted and corrupted and now knew nothing but destruction.

Her thoughts flickered back to her loyal knight and she realized with a stroke of horror that he, too, would be buried and forgotten, lost to a sea of time. But then again, so would she. That’s how it went, wasn’t it? A hero and a goddess, set to revive only when the Calamity would. With tens of thousands of years passing between them, all they would truly become were stories. Except, there would be no grand legend following them. For a story to exist, there had to be people to tell it. Her kingdom, as far as the eye could see, had very little left.

She wanted to be upset. She wanted to be angry at this cursed fate, but if she refused to play her part in this elaborate game of chess, then there would be no hope for a future Hyrule to recall stories to.

Zelda gripped the scabbard tighter and pushed onwards. She never knew how much she would come to miss having his eyes on her back—having him three paces behind her at all times. She felt incredibly, strangely alone, and there was no comforting thought that one day she would feel his presence again. Wisdom did not grant knowledge of the future, so she was not naive enough to try manifesting her desire.

There was no bringing him back, not yet, and all the other lives lost tonight, all of their friends who’d stood bravely together only to die alone, had no chance of returning whatsoever.

All she could really do was hope that she could give the remaining populations in every last corner of Hyrule a chance to evacuate while she held the Calamity back. Should it devour her, her entire kingdom, at least her people would be safe. 

Goddesses, every step felt more difficult. Every step she took forward was a missing step behind her. And she couldn’t help wondering,

could she have saved him?

Part of her wanted to believe it would have been possible. The other part of her knew better than to tempt fate. They could not change it, but fate itself could play with whatever rules it desired. 

This, she realized with a deep chill, was how it’d always been meant to go. All of the time she spent in the springs, crying for a silent goddess to answer, wouldn’t have changed a thing. Fate was cruel.

Yet she couldn’t bring herself to be angry with the goddesses. The realization, the clarity that fell upon her, washed her through with a sudden calm. 

Or perhaps that feeling stemmed from the Lost Woods, whose fog seemed to be parting for her. With the sacred blade in her hands and the goddess in her blood, she supposed it had no reason to disorient and disable her. Even the trees were silent as she passed, their eyes following her as if they were waiting for a cue. 

Korok Forest looked as if it were from an alien world. The bright and lively green of the trees and pigment of the flowers did not match the decay outside of them. But even here, in the most sacred grove in all of Hyrule, the Calamity had a reach. She could see the dark, crimson sky behind the leaves of cherry blossoms where it did not belong. 

Zelda mistepped, her foot hitting the raised platform, and she didn’t try to catch her fall. The sword’s clang was loud as it hit the stone and her arms trembled under her weight. Her knees were scraped through the dress but it was already stained with blood, what was a little more? The sting was nothing compared to the loss of her kingdom. 

“All hope is not lost.”

She lifted her head, but it was hard to see the Great Deku Tree through the blur of tears in her vision. She blinked hard, but it did little to help. 

“With all due respect, I don’t think I can handle much positivity,” she replied, ducking her head again so she didn’t have to look at him. 

“There is no fault in that. However, telling you that there is nothing left would be false.”

“They’re dead,” she said and shook her head. How did she still have tears to cry? “All of them.”

“Not all of them. But you already know that.”

Zelda wiped at her eyes with her fist and dug her nails into her palms to keep from slamming them on the pedestal. 

“It hurts,” was all she could manage. 

“Yes,” replied the Deku Tree with a gentle hum. “But what is grief, if not love persevering?”

She did not want to reply. Instead, she turned her focus to steadying her breathing and putting an end to the ever flowing tears. The Calamity had laid waste to her kingdom, what good would crying do? Her clumsy hands found the hilt of the sacred blade and she pulled it closer. 

“You master will come for you,” she promised quietly. “Until then you shall rest safely here.”

But what good was her promise when she didn’t know if the shrine would work, or if Link would still be Link if it did? Could the soul of a hero strong enough to surpass lifetimes be altered, shaped into something unrecognizable? If such were the case..,

“Please,” she begged, holding her hands tighter, though she didn’t know if she was saying it to Link or to the sword. “Trust me when I say that I know he will arrive before you yet again.”

Zelda gripped the sword again and struggled back onto shaky legs. When she was steady, she slid the sword back into the pedestal and pressed down firmly until she felt it stick. There was a rush of something too, an odd sort of warmth that hit her fingers and spread throughout her chest as if it was trying to say something. This, she thought, must be what courage feels like.

“If I may be so bold,” the Deku Tree began again, “what is it that you are planning to do next, Princess?”

“It seems that my role is unfinished,” she replied, giving her eyes a final wipe. “There is still something I must do.”

“I sense there is great strength in your dedication.”

Yes, perhaps there was. She wondered if this is how Link had felt nearly every day—ready to act upon a moment’s notice. Even in his absence, she could feel a piece of him resonating within her heart. 

“Great Deku Tree, I ask of you,” she spoke in the comfort and confines of the forest, where no one could repeat her words, “when he returns, can you please relay this message..? Tell him I-“

“Now then… words for him would sound much better in the tones of your voice, don’t you think?”

The guardian spirit, old and wise as the sacred blade itself, gazed down at her with a warm look of faith. There was a gentle breeze that ruffled her hair and a ray of sunshine peaked through the grotesque sky for only a moment, but it was enough to bring a tiny smile to her lips despite it all. 

“Yes,” she decided simply.

This was courage.

The heavy fog of the forest parted for her just as it had done before and the gloomy, burning world she’d escaped welcomed her back as if she’d never left. The exhaustion was gone and in its absence remained a hostile anger that she was ready to let go of. Years upon years of neglect, of training, of hardships, led her to this exact moment—walking into an impossible fight alone. It wasn’t fair, goddesses knew that. This thing had taken everything from her.

But if her kingdom had fallen and she was destined to follow, she would make certain that she took the Calamity with her.

#zelink #if you squint #breath of the wild #yes i stole that line from wandavision #botw zelda #memory 18 #no offense but #i don't think zelda would be all smiles in this memory #everyone is dead #happy birthday zelda heres the sword of ur dead knight #go pick it up #my writing

[focsle]

1:30am, time to write extensively about my catboy. Whole bio is under the read more. I love him...

Bio for Jo’vashaar

Basics

Name: Jo’vashaar Nickname: None Age: 48 Gender: Male Race: Khajiit (Cathay) Class: Necromancer

Physical Characteristics

Height: 5’11” Weight: 240 lbs Hair: Black Eyes: Gold Fur: Dark greyish-brown with black spots Distinctive features: His nose is pretty banged up. Has a scar over his upper lip and over his left eye too. Mannerisms: He doesn’t make big physical gestures, but there’s a gravity to the way he carries himself that gives him a definite presence. He’s intimidating without having to try too hard. Voice: Low, gravelly, he doesn’t use it very much. Has the regional accent of Elsweyr and the diction e.g. speaking in third person. Fashion: He dresses in a traditional Khajiiti style, a lot of robes and ornamentation, sandals, cowls. He dresses as such more out of familiarity, rather than being really specific about how he’s curating his appearance, though.

Emotional Traits

Personality: He has an air of self-importance, but the sort that feels like he’ll rough you up if you look at him wrong. Bit of a misanthrope. He’s a scholar who’s taken for a bruiser because of his surly ‘don’t fuck with me’ vibes. Like...he carries around a staff but he’ll just punch someone in the face instead. He doesn’t start fights but is very quick to finish them. He also holds onto his grudges.

He has a real wit though, a gallows humor, that is also lost on people who don’t know him well because of his blink-and-you-miss-it deadpan delivery. He has a hunger for knowledge, but isn’t particularly collaborative, so he strikes out on his own a lot. He’s deeply loyal though, to the few friends he has, as well as to his home and history. He always keeps his word, though he offers it rarely. 

Religion/belief system: He’s deep in the necromancy which is, ofc, societally very frowned upon. He’s of the mind that knowledge is power, but that a mortal life is too short to gather any significant amount of knowledge that could equate to power. So he has an interest in extending his life. He’s a devotee to Hermaeus Mora and really wants to be Noticed. And so he’s raising dead royals and warriors and scholars from antiquity trying to glean information from them but also be like ‘LOOK AT MY DEVOTION TO  THE PURSUIT OF KNOWLEDGE HERMORAH ♥️…’

Lifestyle

Background: Jo’vashaar grew up in Riverhold, in Northern Elsweyr. His parents were both well-regarded textile merchants, but saw that Jo’vashaar had an aptitude for magic as a teenager. Some of his ancestors were Adepts, so his parents supported him cultivating his abilities. Rather than going to an adeptorium, he studied at the Arcane University in Cyrodil as a young adult, with a focus in conjuration magic. He worked in the Mages Guild for about 15 years after that. But his interest in conjuration waned as he started to look more into necromancy, and he deemed it a more powerful path that would open doors that felt closed in more…legal forms of magic. So he left to pursue it, though no one (with the exception of his friend Zahni) in the guild knew the reason. As far as his former contacts are concerned, he dropped off the face of the earth.

Current place of Residence: he has a house in Rawl’kha but isn’t there very much. He’s camping in the wilderness and sleeping in crypts more often than not, but still likes having it as an anchor to come back to. Sometimes he stays at Zahni’s big mansion in Rimmen. He’ll travel outside of Elsweyr for research, but he also gets grumpier when the distance is greater.

Occupation: He doesn’t really…have one.  When he does need money, Zahni splits profits when she sells something they found in their travels, but he’s pretty self sufficient and not very material—again, usually lives in a crypt and hunts/gathers his own food. Doesn’t need much funds to support himself, so he spends his time being a Rogue Necromancer instead.

Habits: Smokes, sometimes eats little live animals that get too close to him.

Hobbies: he can play a lute, he’s real good at making stews (despite…eating live birds outta the air), he likes doing charcoal rubbings of interesting reliefs. Interested in architecture, too.

Likes: Being out in the wilderness, sunrises, folk stories and oral histories (and committing them to paper), the Quiet of the Dead, preserved ruins, throwing intimidation checks all over the place.

Dislikes: Crowded places, social functions, being asked about himself, cold/snow, big bodies of water and traveling over them…gets horribly seasick, showing any kind of vulnerability whatsoever.

Goals: His ultimate goal is becoming a champion of Hermaeus Mora, and being able to self-servingly access knowledge and immortality through that service. If it leads him into lichdom, hey, it is what it is. At the very least, he’d like to find a way to travel to Apocrypha and back without losing his mind.

Relationships

Parents: R’ahiq (father, deceased) Yusana (mother, deceased) Siblings: None Orientation: Bisexual in an extremely occasional way Relationship status: Not interested Notable relationships: Zahni: His best friend but also ONLY friend. Zahni is an Alfiq khajiit he met at university. Both being outside their home province, they gravitated towards each other. Jo’vashaar appreciated Zahni’s nonjudgmental behavior (to the point of having…few scruples about anything) and cavalier attitude towards his interests in Forbidden Magic. She’s also very good at keeping secrets, so when he left he let her in on why. Zahni, being both curious and starry-eyed about adventures, left with him.

Far more personable than he, and also skilled at illusion magic, she’s the charisma when interacting with people/situations, and he’s the muscle if there’s every any trouble. While they do butt heads sometimes, their different strengths and weaknesses compliment each other well. Zahni currently works as a black market antiques dealer, with said antiques often coming from their journeys into tombs and ruins. So while Jo’vashaar is resurrecting someone important Zahni’s just in the back being like ‘ASK HIM IF THIS ONE CAN STEAL HIS BEAUTIFUL GOLDEN URN.’ No scruples. She also knows of Jo’vashaar’s end-game ambitions, and her only response is that it can’t hurt to be on good terms with a magical immortal.

#jovashaar #fancy cat hours

[melisusthewee]

Fic - The Brothers Trevelyan (Dragon Age)

Summary: Templars, mages, and Chantry soldiers mingle uneasily in the Valley of Sacred Ashes.  Among them is a single templar who doesn’t care about mage rebellions or broken Circles, and is content to stand guard and do as he’s told.  Moments before the world turns itself upside down, Aloysius Trevelyan is just trying to be a good soldier while his brother Quinn seeks to stir up trouble.  A look at two very different brothers and a tumultuous relationship in a place where only one of them gets to be the hero.  Based again on a prompt from the DA Subreddit’s Weekly Writing Challenge.

Fandom: Dragon Age

Pairings: none

Rating: G

Words: 1,367 words

Notes: Introducing the “Archers Do It With Flair” series - a collection of all the little one shots and drabbles written as part of the DA Subreddit Weekly Writing thread that quite frankly don’t fit into any larger or longer fics but serve to flesh out my world state and all the poor souls who inhabit it.  (Or at least the Inquisitor.)  Some will be long, some will be short, some will be smutty, and some will be... I don’t know.  Stuff.  And things.  This one is more character introduction than anything else, but was the drabble which led to me developing Quinn and his relationship with his family more.  And I’m kind of proud of that.

As always, click the link below to read this on AO3 or you can read the rest directly on Tumblr below the cut.

The Brothers Trevelyan on AO3

His relief was late.  It had been nearly half an hour and Aloysius was beginning to grow hungry.  Some of the other templars who had passed by his post had mentioned there was a bit of a commotion further down the mountain, something about the Champion of Kirkwall… or maybe it was someone else from that corner of the Marches… everyone he asked told it differently.  In any event, it didn’t seem too relevant to active guard duty around the temple, and was no reason for his relief to be as late as they were.

Movement off to his right caught his attention, and Aloysius turned hoping to see an approaching soldier.  Instead it was a mage, hurrying from some small side entrance of the temple.  Aloysius frowned on instinct; seeing mages running about the place unchecked was not something he was used to.  But they’d been told to stand down and not bother anyone unless something seemed suspect.  And very little about the woman looked suspicious, especially when a second mage appeared shortly after her, his cheeks flushed and his robes still slightly askew.

Aloysius sighed inwardly.  He was fairly certain that romantic entanglements on sacred ground was cause for discipline, but as his stomach growled he realized he had far more pressing concerns than a couple of mages sniffing around beneath each others robes.

He turned back to his diligent watch up the mountain path, hoping for any sign of an approaching figure.  But once again his concentration was interrupted by the sound of a door being swiftly shut and Aloysius turned to see a familiar person appearing from where the mages had come from.  He made a sound of disgust, loud enough for the person to hear.  The man looked up from where he was pre-occupied buttoning up his coat and adjusting his trousers, and flashed Aloysius an arrogant grin.

“Is nothing safe from your debauchery?” he said, frowning in disapproval.

The grin wavered only for a moment as the man ran his fingers through his hair and sidled up next to Aloysius.  “The Maker loves all his children, dear brother.”

Aloysius looked his younger brother up and down carefully.  His cheeks were flushed and he wasn’t quite quick enough to wrap his scarf around his neck in order to hide the several telltale marks that made it very clear exactly the sort of thing he’d been up to with the mages.  “I doubt the Maker gets involved in any of your business, Quinn.”

His brother looked entirely unapologetic.  “How are we to know?  He never speaks, no matter how loudly one calls out His name.”

Aloysius thought he was going to be sick and made a very distinct sound at the back of his throat.  “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

“Eventually,” Quinn replied, reaching into his coat and taking out a well-worn pipe.  It wasn’t long before the pungent smell of smoke filled the air.  Aloysius hated the smell, and his brother knew it.  His brother also had likely figured out that Aloysius was on duty and therefore unable to leave despite how much both men preferred to avoid each other’s company.  “Sadly, they don’t give me the exciting jobs like standing vigil on a mountain far removed from anyone of any importance.”

“Being assigned to the temple is an honour,” Aloysius said stiffly.

Quinn laughed, although Aloysius thought it sounded more like a snort.  “So you’ve seen the Divine then?  She’s come round to bring the blessings of Our Lady upon you?  The Lord Seeker requested that Ser Trevelyan specifically guard this out of the way corner of the temple?”

“Shut up.”

Quinn looked surprised at the outburst.  Yes, Aloysius was usually patient with his brother and not only because his patience often frustrated Quinn to no end, but his belly was empty and his temper short - especially in his present company.  Aloysius watched as Quinn took a step back, seeming to consider him carefully in a manner that looked like there was far too much going on inside that silly blond head to be good for anyone.

“You haven’t seen the Lord Seeker, have you?”  That insufferably sly smile was back on Quinn’s face.

“I’ve spoken with a Seeker,” Aloysius said, choosing his words carefully.

“But not the Lord Seeker?  The one who’s supposed to be leading your side in the talks?”  Aloysius began to tell Quinn how the templars were not his side and that he wasn’t invested in the ongoing war beyond whatever orders or duties his commanding officer gave him these days, but his brother wasn’t listening.  “The mages hadn’t seen the Grand Enchanter either.  They’d been told she was supposed to be arriving from Redcliffe, but everyone of importance is just… around… somewhere.”

“You managed to get all of that out of a couple of mages?” said Aloysius, his voice dripping with skepticism.  For the first time, Quinn appeared to look genuinely offended, gesturing to himself as if the answer should have been obvious.  Aloysius rolled his eyes, and went back to staring up the mountain road, praying his relief would come and give him an excuse to leave.

He heard his brother grumble something to himself, and smiled knowing that his reaction had not been the one Quinn was hoping for.  For a moment, he thought that perhaps the man would leave to find some sort of entertainment elsewhere, but no such luck.  Instead Quinn kicked absently at the snow with his boot, pouting like a spurned child.

“You’re grumpier than usual.”

“My relief is late,” Aloysius replied stiffly.

Quinn scratched his head, looking genuinely confused as he cast about the area, taking note of how empty their surroundings were.  “You could just leave.  I don’t think the Conclave is going to fall apart just because a single templar went for lunch.”

“I take my duty seriously.”

The younger man sighed dramatically.  “Yes, yes, we know… darling Aloysius, pious as a saint.  It wouldn’t kill you to break the rules once in a while.  You might even find you enjoy it.”

“We all have our parts to play.  You might consider yours sometime.”

The frown that fell upon Quinn’s face made him look an awful lot like their father.  Aloysius considered that was something better kept to himself, however.  It was clear that his words had touched a nerve, regardless of whether he’d intended to insult his brother or not.  In retrospect, he probably should have known better.  It was common knowledge among their siblings that despite their best intentions in trying to bring the youngest of them around to a respectable path, any time one of them said a word, Quinn doubled down on his embarrassing habits at the best of times, and tended to cause a scene at his worst.  Aloysius wasn’t sure which one he was about to be witness to.

“Oh, believe me, I’ve considered it at great length,” Quinn said coldly, tapping the bowl of his pipe and scattering the ashes across the snow.  He took a moment to stamp on them for good measure - a bit aggressively, Aloysius thought - before returning his things to his coat pocket and turning to leave.  “I hope your relief arrives soon.  Mother and Father would be terribly upset if they lost one of their good sons because he starved to death in the line of duty.”

He knew he should let him go.  Quinn was not a child and should not be treated as such.  But he was still his brother, and a Trevelyan, and ever since he’d turned up among the Chantry brothers, Aloysius knew that he was expected to try and keep him level headed and out of trouble if not for the family’s sake but for Quinn’s.  But as he called after him to stop, Quinn only replied with a rude gesture and kept walking.

Well, if that’s how he wanted it then fine with him.  Aloysius straightened his shoulders and settled back into his post, watching the top of the path that led back to Haven.  Still no sign of his relief.  And try as he might to ignore his stomach, he was becoming awfully hungry…

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #inquisitor trevelyan #melis writes stuff #oc: quinn trevelyan #oc: aloysius trevelyan