#// canon (there's a god and shit) -> diverge (god's friends with people and develops a human perception on their existence and identity

[m0e-ru]

how the hell am I supposed to talk about my convoluted childhood best friends au when I haven't talked about the actually-human au presented by adachi theater productions when I haven't talked about the. au.

[yopossum]

Matilija

Main Masterlist - AO3

Pairing: Jackson Joel Miller x f!Reader

Rating: M (will update)

Summary: You’re good people, said Tommy, and Joel groaned. You knew that goodness could grow from a fire, could crawl out of hell with teeth and claws and wings and hope, could rip a man right open until all the darkest parts inside him were spread out warm in the sunshine. Joel didn’t. He’d learn.

Warnings: 18+ only- language, canon-typical violence, infected, guns, feral sunshine reader, grumpy Joel, reference to pregnancy/childbirth, canon divergent from tlou2, not one but two cask of amontillado references! will update as story develops, no betas and no real proofreading my b

—————

Chapter 1: Cookies in the Apocalypse

“Don’t argue with me, Joel. I’m not goin’ out when Maria’s so close to havin’ the baby. She’s been crampin’ and shit for three days.” Tommy pushed his long black hair out of his eyes and sighed, impatient. He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels on the porch.

“Told you I’m not goin’ out with an untested patrol partner, Tommy. Not a fuckin’ chance.” Joel glared at his younger brother, jaw set tightly.

“She’s not untested, Joel, goddamn. She’s a crack shot and she’s sharp as hell. You got some problem workin’ with women all of a sudden? Sure as hell didn’t mind Tess’ help.” Tommy sneered.

Joel slammed a fist against the door frame, rattling the siding. “Don’t you fuckin’ talk about Tess. I’m not on some macho shit, Tom. I’m…” He dragged his rough palm down his face, ground his teeth again. “Ellie just started fuckin’ talkin’ to me again, Tommy. I can’t go out there without knowin’ I’m coming back to her. I don’t even fuckin’ know this girl. How’m I supposed to trust her?”

Tommy kicked at a warped floorboard. “I’m sympathetic brother, I really am. But I wouldn’t send you out with her if I didn’t think you’d both be comin’ back in one piece. Don’t want to take you away from Ellie, and I’m selfish enough not to want to lose y’ again myself.” He pressed a hand to Joel’s shoulder, who didn’t budge. “If the baby comes and I’m not here? Or, Christ, somethin’ goes wrong with the birth? Joel, I can’t.” He took a breath, risked it. “I’m askin’ not just as your brother but as a father.”

Joel tensed, vein in his neck bulging with restraint, but he nodded just once. “Fine. But I swear to God, Tommy, if you’re bullshittin’ me with this girl’s skills…”

Tommy cut him off. “I’m not. You know I wouldn’t. Besides, the only reason you don’t know her yourself is because you’re a goddamn hermit. You’re probably the only person in town who doesn’t. She’s friendly.”

Joel just huffed. “Don’t need her to be my friend. Just need her not to get me killed.”

“Suit yourself,” Tommy shrugged. “She’ll be out at the stables in the mornin’.” He stepped down from the porch, walking towards the street, then turned back at the gate. “She’s good people, Joel.” With that, he left, sauntering down the road back home.

Joel closed the door more forcefully than he should’ve, clenched his hands into fists and squeezed.

She’s good people.

Joel gave up on goodness a long, long time ago.

—————

“Hey there, beautiful! How’s my sweet girl?” You patted the side of the mare’s nose, and she nuzzled into your hand, nosing for the apple she knew you’d brought. You chuckled, pulling it from your coat pocket. “I see how it is, Rosie. Only love me for my treats, is that what’s happening here?” She puffed out a breath that clouded in the early morning air, and you let her take the apple from your palm. “I’ll get you ready when you’re finished with that, my dear.”

Wiping the horse slobber from your hand onto the leg of your jeans, you stepped back from the stall and stretched out with a lionesque yawn, smacking into something solid.

“Christ!” you startled, stumbling forward a pace before whirling around. “Jesus, Miller, you’re quiet as hell. Scared the shit out of me,” you laughed. “Nice to meet you, even if you nearly gave me a heart attack,” you grinned, extending a hand to shake.

Joel stared at your hand, then at your face, then at Rosemary, then back at your hand. You gave it a little wave. “Hello! Earth to Joel Miller. I’m doing that thing where you introduce yourself to somebody. Familiar with the concept?”

He looked back at your face and grunted. “Tack up your horse. Time to go.” He turned without another word and headed to his horse’s stall to saddle up.

You rotated your outstretched hand to flip up your middle finger at his back.

—————

Miles outside the walls of Jackson, the two of you rode in silence for hours.

Well, Joel rode in silence. You didn’t shut up, and he was going to snap. You hummed tunelessly to yourself, talked to your horse like you expected her to answer you back, greeted the goddamn squirrels when you hit the tree line.

“They’re cute, but you can’t trust them. Never trust a squirrel. They’re all scoundrels,” you muttered to Rosie.

“Stop talkin’,” Joel finally barked.

You snorted. “No, don’t think I will. Stop listening, I guess!”

Joel felt a headache searing behind his eyeballs. He never thought he’d prefer traveling with a teenager, but god, even Will Livingston would be better than this.

He pulled back on the reins, slowed his horse to a stop. “We’re resting here,” he said with finality, expecting an argument. You didn’t argue, though, just rode up and hopped off, tied your horse to the tree alongside his.

“He’s such a good boy,” you cooed, rubbing his horse’s nose affectionately. “Aren’t you, Old Beardy?”

“What’d you call him?”

“Old Beardy. That’s… his name? Do you not know his name?”

Joel did not know his name. “It’s a horse.”

You stared at him. “Named Old Beardy, yeah. You don’t talk to him?”

“No.”

“Well I guess I won’t take it personally, then,” you laughed. “He’s kind of an asshole, isn’t he bud?” you whispered to the horse.

Joel snarled, finally cracked. “What’d you say?”

“Oh, I said you’re kind of an asshole.” You shrugged, rooting through your pack. “Want a cookie? I brought enough for both of us.” You pulled out a small cloth bundle and untied it, revealing, as you said, a small pile of cookies smelling faintly of maple. You popped one in your mouth and smiled without teeth, crumbs on your lips, and held the bundle in Joel’s direction.

Joel, again, just stared at your hand. You raised your eyebrows at him. “N… no, I don’t want a fuckin’ cookie.” He shook his head like he was trying to clear the whole idea of you out of his skull. “The hell is wrong with you? You think we’re at a goddamn birthday party?”

You swallowed the mouthful of cookie and wiped your lips with the back of your hand. “I mean, I bet you’d look good in a little pointy hat.”

Joel threw his hands up and pulled off his jacket, tossing it to the ground angrily. If looks could kill, you’d be a pile of guts and goo. He took one half step towards you before turning away and storming off into the trees. “DON’T FUCKIN’ GO ANYWHERE. WE’RE LEAVIN’ IN TEN MINUTES,” he yelled without looking back.

“Suit yourself, Miller,” you hummed breezily, picking up another cookie and settling onto a stump, kicking your legs out into the warm sunshine.

Nine minutes later, when Joel came stomping back all smoldering fury, you were waiting atop Rosemary with a smile. Old Beardy stamped his foot impatiently, apple bits from his lip shaking loose and falling to the ground. “Ready to ride, my friend?”

Joel glowered, grabbed his jacket, mounted his horse. “Not your friend.”

“Not yet, maybe. Give it time,” you lilted, turning to him with a wink before trotting off.

—————

Joel raged quietly the rest of the ride to the outpost. You continued to chatter away. By the time you arrived at the dilapidated cabin, he was ready to explode. As soon as his boots hit the ground, he whipped your direction to snap at you for dicking around, but you cut him off before he could get a word out. “We clear it first, then I’ll walk the horses to the stream to water them and put them in for the night. Good?”

Joel nodded slowly, his tirade dying on his tongue as you walked ahead of him, pulling a pistol from your pack and moving with practiced, purposeful steps toward the building.

The cabin was small, only two rooms, and as a pair you made quick work of clearing it and checking the perimeter. Joel set his rifle down on the decrepit coffee table, and before he could sit down on the sagging couch and scribble in the log, you surprised him with a soft pat on the arm. Every muscle tensed to steel under your hand, but you didn’t flinch or speak of it, just threw a lazy thumb over your shoulder to point outside. “I’ll go handle the horses. Don’t worry, I’ll move slow. Give you as much alone time as I can.”

It was considerate, Joel thought against his will as you stepped out into the fading light, temporarily a silhouette in the doorway rather than a thorn in his side. He wasn’t willing to give you any more than that, though. He leaned back into the couch, its fabric saturated with the smell of damp, and groaned, closing his eyes.

At some point, he opened them again, and a glance out the filthy window told him it was much, much later than it had been when he sat down. He grunted and sat up quickly.

“Hey there, Sleeping Beauty,” you called in a playful voice from your post at the window in the other room.

“Why the hell didn’t you wake me up?!” Joel growled, angry and, though he wouldn’t say so, embarrassed at having fallen asleep. How had he let his guard down like that?

“Gosh, you looked so peaceful resting there I figured you needed it. I took first watch anyway, no biggie.” You turned your eyes back out the window. “Nothing interesting so far.”

Joel stood from the couch and stomped toward you, feet thundering across the floorboards. He ground his teeth, trying to cage in his temper and only barely succeeding, as he leaned close to your face and hissed. “You don’t ever go makin’ decisions for patrols without checkin’ with me first, you got that?! This ain’t a goddamn game!”

You blinked at him, unruffled, and hummed. “Get over yourself, Miller. You’re not the only person who made it to the end of the world.” And you turned back to the window.

Joel roared and stormed out of the room, smashing a fist into the slatted wall and shaking loose a cloud of ancient dust and frass before yanking open the cabin door and going out into the night.

He walked angrily, crunching sticks and brush under his heavy boots as he headed over to the horses, finding them asleep and put away perfectly, which pissed him off even more somehow. His blood pounded in his ears as he turned back towards the cabin. Not willing to walk back inside yet, still feeling too heated and righteous in his rage, he paced along the treeline, clenching his fists as his sides. You were a goddamn nightmare, and he was going to kick Tommy’s ass for bailing on patrol as soon as they got back to Jackson, newborn or not.

If Joel hadn’t been so wholly consumed by his loathing, he probably would’ve heard the snap of twigs and shuffling of leaves just beyond his view. He probably would’ve remembered to grab his rifle from the table before he took off, too.

A blood-curdling shriek rang out from just behind him, and before he could turn fully around he was tackled into the dirt, rancid infected snarling and clawing at him desperately. Joel fumbled for his knife with one hand, trying to push the putrid creature away from him with the other, and in that hours-long frozen moment, he thought of Ellie, thought of what you’d said to him just before he left. Get over yourself, Miller. Too late.

A shot cracked through the night air and in a flash, the infected collapsed in a heap onto Joel. He shoved it off quickly, brushed its matter off his clothes and scrambled to his feet, and looked back to the cabin. You stood squarely on the porch, his rifle in hand, and waved. With a heavy sigh, he trudged back to the building.

—————

You’d returned to the cabin and curled up on the couch already by the time Joel came in. “Didn’t get yourself bit, did you Big Guy?” you called without looking at him.

“No,” he huffed. Paused a minute in the middle of the room. Rubbing a palm over the back of his neck, he took a deep breath. “I… uh…”

“Don’t hurt yourself trying to thank me, Joel. We’re good. Left your dinner on the table. Jerky, apple, some granola. Already put the infected in the log. See you in the morning.” And with that, you rolled over, tucked deeper into the musty cushions, and went to sleep.

Joel was mystified. He’d expected a fight, or gloating, or anything, but you just… went to bed. After saving his life (with a damned good shot, too). After he’d accused you of playing things fast and loose, not taking patrol seriously. He slumped into the chair at the window to take watch, shoving some of the jerky you’d set out for him into his mouth and chasing it with a fiery gulp from his flask.

Whatever you were, whatever this was, Joel didn’t understand it, and he hated it. He spent the duration of his watch building mental walls up around any errant thoughts of you, trapping them somewhere in his brain where he wouldn’t try to explore them, convincing himself he could ignore your Fortunato snores from behind the brick.

—————

You woke at daybreak without Joel’s assistance, stretching out and yawning wide in a sunbeam that poured across the couch like a lazy cat.

“Beautiful morning, hm?” you grinned, turning to the other room to face him and rolling your shoulders, making your spine crackle. “Shit, that felt good. This couch is awful.”

“Get your gear. We’re leavin’,” Joel grizzled, his broad form pushing past you and grabbing his pack and rifle as he walked out the door.

“Sure thing, sunshine!” you called after him, laughing as you saw his shoulders tense from behind as he tried to ignore you.

After a quick pee and refill of your waters, you and Joel began the trek back to Jackson, Rosemary and Old Beardy rested and content, apparently not disturbed by the previous night’s near-miss. You swayed gently in your saddle, warmed and languid in the sun, and sang little made-up ditties to Rosie about the landscape as you plodded along. Joel didn’t yell at you to be quiet this time. He didn’t say anything for the entire ride back, hours of following the silent stone wall of flannel. He was stiff in the saddle, spine rigid and knuckles white, but you didn’t poke at him. You didn’t mind letting him stew.

When you finally reached Jackson’s walls, you waved your signal flags and crossed into the open gates. Joel dismounted swiftly, didn’t look back at you, and led his horse to the barn without delay. You took your time, sliding off and smiling to the neighbors who gathered on the street, chatting to Rosie as you ran fingers through the tangles of her mane and walked her to her stall to untack.

After hanging up your gear and brushing her down, you gave the horse an affectionate thump on the flank. “You did so good, sweet girl! I love our little field trips together,” you chittered, sneaking out another apple from your bag for her to lip from your outstretched palm. “I’m gonna give one to our buddy too. He worked hard carrying that big grump, didn’t he?”

“Hmph.”

You turned to see Joel standing outside the stall, unamused, arms folded across his broad chest.

“Oh, big grump! Didn’t see you there. Here, this is for your horse. Do you remember his name?” You pulled another apple from the sack and lobbed it at Joel, who caught it with a frown. Wordlessly, he idled back to Old Beardy’s stall and held out the fruit for the horse, who took it eagerly. Joel rubbed the horse’s nose with a broad palm, wiped it on his jeans.

“Don’t forget to put your gun back,” he muttered without looking at you.

“Yeah, duh.”

Joel glanced over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow to see you standing with hands on your hips, looking annoyed.

“What’s that?” he gritted, nostrils flaring.

You rolled your eyes and laughed. “I said yeah, duh, Joel. I’m sure you heard me the first time.”

He pushed off the stall door and closed the distance between you with a few long strides until he was staring down at you menacingly. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, you know that? Think you’re funny? Think you’re fuckin’ cute, huh?” His voice was low and threatening, rumbling in his throat.

You met his stare, and your eyes twinkled with mischief. “I know I am. I’m also a fantastic shot who saved your life not twelve hours ago, I’m a great patrol partner, and I’m not even slightly scared of whatever this whole performance is.” You raised one hand, pointing your index finger, and poked it hard into his chest, startling him back a step. “And you know what else, Miller?” You leaned towards him this time, grabbing the front of his flannel gently as you smirked up at him. “I’m a goddamn delight.” You dropped his shirt with a wink and twirled, strutting out of the barn with your bag slung casually over your shoulder as Joel gaped after you in shock.

“No baby yet, but we’re close. How’d patrol go, brother?” Tommy drawled, appearing out of nowhere, setting a hand on Joel’s shoulder and startling him out of his stupor.

“Fine,” he muttered, looking at the floor.

“Run into any trouble?”

Joel cleared his throat. “One infected by the cabin. Got the jump on me but we took him out.”

Tommy cocked his head. “We took him out?”

Joel groaned. “She took him out. Didn’t hear him ‘til he was on me, didn’t have my gun, but she sniped him from the porch,” he admitted wearily.

Tommy just chuckled and shook his head. “Told you, man. She’s somethin’, ain’t she? Drinks tonight at the Bison?”

“Sure,” Joel grumbled. “Fuckin’ need it after that shit.”

At that, Tommy howled, staggering through the hay and out of the barn. “I bet you do, you orn’ry bastard!” he cackled. Joel glowered, kicking the toe of his boot into an errant bucket with a clang.

When he shuffled out of the stalls and headed the direction of his own house, Joel tried to stack more bricks up in his mind, shut the whole damn patrol in there and forget about it. He hadn’t ever interacted with you before you’d ridden out together, so it shouldn’t be hard to avoid you know, he told himself. All that not thinking of you kept him busy til he found himself at his front gate, and he felt some relief wash over him as he tread up the familiar steps and opened the door. You didn’t exist here, thank god.

Joel toed off his boots and dropped his pack. Before hanging up his jacket, he shoved his hands into the pockets, double-checking for anything he might’ve forgotten he stashed there. First pocket was empty, but when he reached into the second, his touch met an unfamiliar fabric.

“The hell?” he wondered aloud as he pulled out the small lump, gears of his brain beginning to turn. He teased the knot of the bundle with thick fingers. When it fell open, the sweet soft smell of maple hit him in the chest like a goddamn mallet.

—————

Tagging some lovelies who were interested:

@orcasoul @clawdee @maggiemayhemnj @baronessvonglitter @tinytinymenace

[detta-pica]

SatoSugu fanfic reclist

Here’s a bunch of excellent stories that don’t get as much attention as I think they deserve.

Humour

i'm suffering (falling in love) by themoonisdead

Shoko is trapped in a hell of her best friends’ making - they are in love with each other, but too stupid to figure it out. So she nudges them in the right direction, because they keep dragging her into their mess and she’s had enough.

No curses AU, fluff and humour, excellent sashisu friendship content

Rating: T

10.5k words

Victim Of Local Attempted Murder Insists "He's So Into Me" by satorussuguru

Satoru annoys/harasses Suguru into going on a date with him, having convinced himself that they are meant for each other. Suguru disagrees, and also doesn’t really understand what’s happening.

Canon universe, fluff and humour, everyone is bad at feelings

Rating: G

5k words

not fake at all, send this to five people you love or else you will die instantly!!! (orphaned)

Two scammers fall in love through their attempts to scam each other. There are scam emails, scam calls, genuine mutual understanding, attempts at insurance fraud, and a scammy marriage proposal.

No curses AU, humour, Megumi is the only sane person around

Rating: T

6k words

Fluff

gods might reside in your fingertips by getou_suguru (dheiress)

Just a moment of softness and sweetness in a version of canon in which nothing hurts. Remember that time Haibara asked Suguru about what kinds of snacks to bring back? In this universe, he gets to deliver on that offer, and then Satoru has opinions about the sweets.

Canon divergence, established relationship, tooth-rotting fluff (pretty much literally)

Rating: T

2k words

our last belief by werevolche

They get to both be teachers and also totally married for all intents and purposes. This story is just a little glimpse at their domestic bliss. Satoru says something absolutely adorable, and they get to be soft with each other. That’s it.

Canon divergence, established relationship, domestic fluff

4k words

Rating: T

起死回生 | Revived from the Dead, Recovered from Hopelessness by Liquid__Sunshine

Satoru tracks Suguru down a couple of years post-defection and pesters the poor, stressed single dad to teach him how to cook. It goes much better than planned (not the cooking lesson though; that goes to shit).

Also, Mimiko and Nanako get to be adorable kids in this one.

Canon divergence, domestic fluff, cooking and eating together as a family

Rating: T

11k words

Angst with a happy ending

i’ll become your wound by imdamagecontrol

Satoru and Suguru run into each other ten years after their break up. Satoru has Big Feelings about it. There are sweet, fluffy flashbacks of them falling in love, and the ending is so lovely.

TW: Questionable decisions are made while both parties involved are drunk. It’s never addressed or seen as a bad thing by the characters.

No curses AU, non-linear narrative, second chances

Rating: E

23k words

Drawing the Map by MemeKon

Suguru doesn’t murder a village and Satoru goes after him instead of wallowing in grief. They have an honest to goodness conversation about their feelings and the future. It’s great.

Canon divergence, fix-it, developing relationship

Rating: T

3.5k words

[drgreysonmd]

(HOW WE FEELING ABOUT THE GREYSON FACE REVEAL TONIGHT🗣️⁉️)

(MOD💜TALK

Yo I was so excited I literally immediately started drawing him, and then hyperfixated all day and then did nothing but just sit in my feels. This is gonna be a long one about some blog stuff too, mates, so strap in!

@flamesque 's Mun LITERALLY had to hold my hand because I CRIED I was so nervous to see his face 😅🤣 it was the happiness of the game finally giving him all the attention I'd always wanted him to have, but the double edged sword of going

"Oh shit. Now everything I've grown so attracted to is officially wrong."

And so I had to sit here all day while I've painted and spoken to friends and fellow muns and just... had to really take a step back and think about how I was going to overhaul everything here too.

So the positive answer is- I'm SO EXCITED because I've already seen so many people talking about him and even my beloved @rose-tinted-kalopsia is planning on writing for him and maybe this means more fanworks for him! It's been very lonely in my little corner with just me screaming about how lovely he is and throwing out headcanon posts and snippets and art and

I get it. It can be hard to love a faceless man in a very visual game. No shade. I'm just happy and hopeful more people will engage in him as a character now!

I also think he's fucking ADORABLE. His glasses and his cute cheekbones and his grey blue eyes bc ofc he'd have grey eyes when his name is fucking Greyson (I swear to God everyone loves to hurt me with puns 🥴🤣) I'd love to see a little bit of a hairstyle change but I've already hit on that. Overall I love him. Very cute, 10/10, totally smashable. I'm getting Bedazzled Brendan Fraser vibes and I'm here for it.

On the less positive side- it's like saying goodbye to a very dear friend. This Grey, MY Grey has become somewhat of a very special blorbo to me. He ended up being like a half oc-half canon character and idek how it happened but it DID and here I lay very distraught and attached to him and it's a little heartbreaking to retire him, if that makes any sense.

It's been quiet here for a while partially due to personal stuff, but also partially due to my sensing the changing in the winds after the story update of No Morning. They've done a lot of lore building with him that while it doesn't give him any actual back story, it's changed or developed parts of his personality that really have diverged him from the Greyson we got snippets of early on. And I'm not mad about that mind you, he's still adorable and I will stand by him until my dying breath, but it's very clear that the Grey I've written, and the Grey they're writing now are diverging very quickly and I need to separate them rather than try and salvage a blend. It was bound to happen when the only thing we had to go on was as a side character in an anecdote, a side character in a single card, and a couple moments posts early on. 🤷‍♀️ (oh and that one Twitter interview).

I've contemplated making mine an OC (just another Dr at Akso) and keeping all the lore and backstory and stuff as his, and gutting this profile back to canon material ONLY, but once again that leaves it as very... well.... barren. I do believe there will be a lot more in store for him in the future, it's just gonna take a while (bc he's a side character so of course, it makes sense) so it might feel like I've kind of hurt or abandoned this place in the meantime, which is definitely not what I want either.

All in all there will obviously be some huge changes happening here, I'm just not entirely sure what they are yet and what that means for active threads too 😅 I have a lot of options so it's just down to figuring out which ones speak to me heart and Muse.

I realize this is probably all waaaaaaay more than you intended to ask so I'm sorry, but thanks for letting me gush all my feels out ahhhhhh♡)

[greenerteacups]

I absolutely adore the way you write Harry and Ron as clever and snarky in their own ways (Harry's conversation with Snape was hilarious and clever in Norberta). All too often in Dramione fanfics they are shown as lesser than because writers want to make Draco and Hermione exceptional, but your D and H are incredibly interesting and smart on a level that still allows them to shine next to remarkably wonderful Harry, Ron and all the other fascinating characters you write

Thank you so much! This is a really touching compliment, because I share the same pet peeve. Something I was careful of when writing the fic was not to pitch Harry and Ron too OOC (as with all canon divergences, you increasingly can't help it, and I think it shows in Harry the most — I just have to steer him a bit harder than JKR does in order to develop him when I can't rely on his internal monologue). I think there are three major reasons that Harry and Ron get washed out in Dramione fics — the first being a simple plot mechanic to get Hermione alone and in a mental state where she would be open to a connection with Draco, which, admittedly, is pretty unlikely if Harry and Ron remain in the picture. By the time OOTP wraps, she and Draco are just so ensconced in their separate social circles that she seems to regard him as irrelevant in HBP, so obviously, if they're going to get together sometime in that timeframe or afterward, their social situations need to change. On the other hand, though, if a fanfiction is taken in some respects as a theoretical argument for how a ship could happen, I always thought Harry/Ron bashing was implicitly a sort of weak argument for D/H, because it requires Hermione to be totally iced out of her own friend group before she considers Draco as a friend or partner. Not to mention that you lose the opportunity to develop these rich auxiliary relationships (Hermione and Harry as unofficial siblings, Draco and Harry as foils, Draco and Ron as foils, Harry and Ron as platonic soulmates) that provide shape and contrast to Draco and Hermione's relationship. The books are a story about love and family! Different kinds of love! And deep platonic love, honestly, more than anything else!

The other side of the coin is that bashing sometimes happens as a natural consequence of having to Do Something About Ron. The need to retcon Hermione's crush and/or relationship and/or marriage with Ron to clear the stage for Draco means that a fanfic author has to just fiat some stuff from the books out of existence. And so you get Death Eater Ron, or Ron as a terrible boyfriend, or cheating, or just being cruel. Or dead! I've read a few where Ron just gets unceremoniously fridged, which is maybe a little better than character assassination, but also pretty sad for all rare us Dramione Ron Enjoyers. Like, I don't think that Ron and Hermione would work out, but I think that's because they share zero interests and tend to aggravate each other's insecurities, not because they don't care about each other, or God forbid, that Ron was secretly a shit person and a bad friend for seven years.

Then you have the final group, which is people who actually do dislike Ron for his behavior in the text. Everyone has that right, so I don't hate, and I can especially understand it if you read his arcs in Goblet of Fire and Deathly Hallows a certain way (I hate the first half of Deathly Hallows, actually, almost exclusively because of the dumb ass Ron's Vacation subplot). JKR doesn't do him any favors here, because she doesn't give him a real reconciliation with Harry or Hermione before he comes back in Deathly Hallows — all their fights sort of end with a shrug and a joke and a comment like, "wow, that sucked, let's not do that again," which is not unrealistic, if you're talking about teenagers, but also does not solve the problem that caused the fight, and we know that because it keeps happening in other books: someone steps on Ron's feelings, he lashes out, they get hurt, and instead of asking for sympathy or trusting his friends to mend his feelings if he explains them, he storms off to sulk. (This is a pattern that I imagine starting at the Burrow, when poor Arthur and Molly just wouldn't have had time to have proper sit-downs and debriefs whenever their kids fought, and so Ron's self-soothing method was to isolate — we see hints of this in Chapter 32-33, and again near the end of Chapter 38 — until he can pretend to get over it.) But going from just canon, it's not impossible to come up with a reading of Ron as this selfish jerk who gets jealous of his friends and screws them over when he gets mad at them. A lot of those people come to Dramione for the catharsis of watching Hermione find a bond with someone who just... doesn't do that, and I don't blame them at all. All the same, I hope Lionheart!Ron can offer an opportunity to experience the joys of Ron Enjoyment for a wider demographic.

[proxissima]

ENJI FOR THE ASK THING

-How I feel about this character:

MY FAVOURITE. I love him, along with All Might, but I also want to strangle him regularly <3

-All the people I ship romantically with this character:

-All Might: Enji's extreme(ly funny) obsession with All Might is what arguably made me ship it. Most of his decisions in adult life have been centred one way or another around All Might, and I can't get over that fact. While there's next to no setting that I wouldn't ship them in, my other favourite is a villain!AM AU. I have many feelings about this ship in general but you and everyone else who made the regrettable decision of following already knows that 💀

-Inko: My guilty pleasure ship, for comedy and drama. There's something enticing about a guy like Endeavor, who's otherwise got such a fat stick up his ass, having an extramarital affair with the MC's civilian mother, who's also married to someone else. The scandalousness of it is *chef's kiss*. It's also intertwined with the crack headcanon about Izuku being Endeavor's love child that I really like, as well.

-Rei: more interesting to me in fanon than in canon, simply because she's barely developed as a character in canon :/ Idk whoever came up with the idea of Rei being secretly obsessed with Enji, but what a concept

-Mirko: two very hot-blooded characters, and Mirko wouldn't have any of Enji's shit 👌

-Aizawa: Shoto would DIE. He's also unlikely to have any of Endeavor's shit.

I generally ship Enji with many and more characters than are listed here, though less romantically and more for reasons like "I like the idea of it in a certain scenario" (like Burnin) or "I simply respect the chemistry"... or for dark fics.

-In an OT3 with Toshi and Rei. Started off as a crack-ship, but I'm now actually, genuinely, honest to god, unironically shipping it. 💀 Hear me out... If this polycule had happened, AFO would simply not have stood a chance. Just the combined power of All Might and Endeavor, united, and with Rei as the mediator... They'd be unstoppable.

-My non-romantic OTP for this character:

Hawks. Enji has a rather... difficult personality, which makes me think he wouldn't have many friends in the first place. Hawks is not just willing to put up with him because he's his biggest fan but he also knows how to either calm his temper, and, just as easily, how to push his buttons. The friendship between them is rather underrated, imo.

All Might. In canon-divergence/AU settings, I can see them having an interesting dynamic when not genuinely hostile. Read: Enji being a tsundere grump and constantly protesting AM's sunshine personality while generally agreeing on work ethics and still hanging out with him.

Untenmaru, Endeavor's chauffeur. He looks like he takes none of his shit either and there's mutual respect between them.

(Basically any character that knows how to hold their own against Enji's gruff personality make for a great dynamic with him.)

-My unpopular opinion about this character:

His atonement arc feels kinda disingenuous. What I'm referring to specifically is that the cause that made him truly start thinking about what he's done to his family for the first time in his miserable life was most definitely only extrinsic and not due to any sudden gained wisdom on his part... Enji's an idiot. Would he have given his treatment of his family a second thought 1) had he somehow managed to surpass All Might on his own terms, or 2) had All Might not been forced to retire suddenly? I can't say I'm convinced that he would have, and that's what's bothering me about his big heel-face turn.

I actually like his pre-All Might's retirement persona at least as much as him post-S3. He was such an asshole but extremely amusing to watch, especially his interactions with AM. He's generally fun to put through a meat-grinder though lmao

-One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon:

Won't happen and also OOC, but he should stop keeping looking at Dabi like there's someone in there that he can still save, and start treating him like the danger that he is and put him out of commission... Permanently.

I'm convinced that if All Might and Endeavor had just had a better relationship with each other overall, much of what happened in the series could've been avoided entirely. But alas... both of them are kinda to blame for that, and things can never be that easy... right?

Give me a character; and I'll break their ass down

[therealnightcity]

💕 self-love time! talk about which ones of YOUR creations (edits, artworks, fanfics) you like the most then send to other creators to do the same 💕

@dreamskug--thanks for sending me this! <3

It's not a specific work of art, but I'm really proud of how Hiro (and his other newer siblings) have developed. He's by far the character I've put the most time and love into, and he's gone from an OC that fits vaguely into the cyberpunk universe, to one that's fully immersed there (and occasionally ventures into others, in the form of numerous AUs.) He's the first character I ever shared publicly, aside from those with a few irl friends, and I'm really glad I did, even if it scared the shit out of me at first. I guess there's a lot of fear of 'god what if people hate him? or think he's dumb'.

He's definitely gone through a transformation, from a cynical, angry anti-hero, with morally gray tendencies, to a determined, still-morally gray character with a good heart underneath it, and he's developed both through his relationships with others, and based on my play style--I'd intended him to be a sniper, and rely on stealth, and then realized I had the patience for neither of them, and this started to shape his personality into something that felt more true to him. He gradually became less of a V, and more of an OC, as his path diverged from canon but I prefer him this way. I don't think I'll ever see him as complete, or be completely done with him, but I'm okay with that--I like that he still continues to change, and transform.

[seasidheblr]

Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington | Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence | Billy rolls into Hawkins a year early, just in time to befriend King Steve at his peak.

When Billy first arrives at Hawkins High School, he quickly finds out that said school is ruled by Harrington (King Steve, as they all call him) with an iron fist and a few nice basketball shots.

Billy spends his first weeks observing everything that happens inside the school because he knows people and he knows he has to understand the power dynamics of this particular habitat in order to come out on top of it.

Steve has a group of friends - sycophants more than friends, really - that follow him like dogs on leash and apparently obey everything he says.

Billy is not gonna lie, that's kinda sexy. It's a pity he'll have to crush this whole King Steve situation.

When he first makes contact with the group of jocks and hot girls on top of the food chain, Billy's fully expecting a challenge. He has thought about this, and he knows how these kinds of things go.

Steve Harrington will take one look at him, he'll see him as a threat, and then do everything in his power to undermine him. So Billy just has to get there first.

Except it turns out maybe he doesn't? Steve answers Billy's first jabs on the basketball field with a laugh and then invites him to a party.

He laughs even more when Billy shoves him back on the floor, and honest-to-God winks at him when he makes a mean comment about his preppy clothes.

(Billy goes to the party. Because he needs everyone to understand what kind of guy he is. Not because he wants to see Harrington’s house, not because he wants to look at him closely for an entire evening, not because he wants to hear him laugh again.)

Billy gets closer to the group and finds out Steve is a great opponent at basketball and that he's really fucking funny (and a bit of a little shit, which Billy definitely enjoys more than he should) at parties.

It turns out Tommy is every bit of a shithead he looked in the beginning, so it's much easier to just slip into the role of the new best friend. It's not what Billy had planned, no, but it can work just fine.

Steve seems happy to have found someone with a little bit more brains than Tommy. Not that it takes much, to be smarter than Tommy. And Billy is, if he does say so himself, way smarter than the majority of that goddamn school.

Billy starts sitting with Harrington at lunch (next to him, or in front of him, which is for some reason way fucking worse), starts hanging out with him outside school and outside the basketball court, and Steve seems genuinely happy about this new development.

Billy tries to push those frail boundaries more than a few times because he's still not sure Steve is actually sincere with his... public demonstrations of friendship. It could be a game, it could be a trick, to just lure Billy into some kind of easiness and then crush him when he doesn't expect him.

(Somewhere deep inside Billy is aware he's a bit paranoid. He's aware not everyone is out to get him, not everyone is a fucking monster. But at the same time... well, maybe not everyone. That doesn't mean Steve isn't one of those people.)

So Billy pushes the boundaries. He's mean and snarky when they play basketball, he still offers jabs and borderline mean comments whenever he has the occasion.

Steve doesn't seem to mind. He laughs - and, fuck it, he looks hot when he laughs - and shrugs the comments away, slaps Billy's shoulder like they’ve been buddies for years, and never once acts like he's threatened or like he's annoyed.

Billy knows he should find it bothering, but he just... likes it.

(There are plenty of things he shouldn’t like. It never stopped him from wanting them anyway.)

READ IT ON AO3.

[isaac-clarke]

you know I used to roleplay on tumblr a bunch of different canon characters, stopped a few years ago but I still plot with a few friends on discord because the interest is still there. Tumblr RP just is god awful and exhausting.

Posting art of canons I used to write I don't mind but goddamn the most divergent one is Isaac of all characters since the AU I wound up developing the most for him is basically him turning into a necromorph lmao. I have a lot of thoughts. And art. and I'm just 'fmdekfgrrdefgre people gonna think I'm weird if I post that shit lmao'

[falloutjay]

Stan x anxious/compassionate reader (kind of has a little canon divergence)

After giving up on Wendy (around Season 12), Stan and us start dating, we were always worried about him (no we weren't dating him out of pity, we were just a very anxious person). Some people find of clingy, others find us adorable but We've never left his side:

Ex: We were by his side helping with whales (Whale W)

We were the only one who didn't leave him when he got depression (You're Getting Old/Ass Burgers)

Next to Heidi, we became social pariah because we didn't want to dump Stan (this even made Wendy guilty)

But him moving, really gets to us, the coronavirus makes it worse. We get worried about him, then we start getting worried about everyone else as everything falls apart (Kyle, Kenny, Eric, Butters, Tweek, Craig, Scott, etc.) And we pass out of stress. About waking up in the hospital, we find out, everyone was worried about us. And Stan is the most worried of all, he spends the whole day with us. We tal-no vent about all the happened to the both of us. By the end of it, we agree that whatever happens we'll do it together.

Guess whos back! :D

Well, while it's not my best work, in my humble opinion, I sure hope you enjoy and like it. Again sorry for the delay! ಥ_ಥ

And if it's not that clear, because I know I can write a little cryptic, there is a time skip. You can either have all the show events happen when they are children and have the time skip between Covid and the memories or between you getting together as kids and the memories. Choose however you like! ^^

_________________________________________

Stan x anxious!compassionate!Reader

Tiny eyes watched the scene unfold.

Normally, Wendy was the one to break up with Stan, but not this time around. Stan was actually telling Wendy that he had no interest in her anymore.

“What changed Stan?” Wendy asked, obviously confused.

“I think I like someone else… I don’t know yet…”

Wendy gave him a smile.

“I wish you all the luck Stan, say if you need anything!”

“I will.” And with that, Wendy took off to be with her friends, while Stan turned a corner and told Kyle and Kenny how it went.

Cartman was there too, but he only wanted to know if she cried, because “she would deserve it.”.

You closed your locker and felt your heartbeat like crazy. Ever since you changed school a few months ago, Stan captured your little ten-year-old mind.

He was kind and showed you around when you had no idea where to go. It was a little crush you developed, and you never felt as scared and excited as now, since that Stan had broken off with Wendy.

This newfound feeling almost made you dizzy but you quickly snapped back into reality when you heard your name.

“Y/N?” Stan asked and waited patiently for his answer next to you.

“Oh, sorry, I was thinking, what did you want?”

“Would you maybe like to hang out some time?”

Stan almost got a heart attack when you suddenly squealed but was happy when you managed to get a high-pitched “YES!” out.

“Okay, what are you betting Kenny? Some Pennies or a dead rat?” Cartman almost fell from his chair laughing about his shitty joke, while Kyle and Kenny rolled their eyes.

“Don’t you think it’s weird how clingy they are?” Kyle asked his blonde friend, while they kept watching you and Stan, who were seated at a separate table at lunch.

“Honestly, I think it’s pretty cute.” Kenny said with his muffled voice.

You held his arm and hugged him from the side, while he happy kept on eating his lunch.

Eric, who had now calmed down from his laugh attack eyed the couple critically. “I’m giving them a month max.”

He said lazily and looked around. “I say longer than a year.” Kenny said, throwing a crinkled five-dollar note on the table.

“You two are horrible.” Kyle shook his head before he threw 10 dollars on the table.

“Four months.”

Kenny was a happy man after a year, because despite everyone believing you two would eventually break up, you never did.

You were always by his side, no matter what.

His desire to desperately save whales with the help of a braindead ship crew?

You were always right by his in the interviews he gave.

His horrible depression that even drove Kyle away? No chance, you stood strong and helped him through the whole thing and even help reuniting the gang.

Even during the protest against Skanthunt42, you chose to sit this one out, despite you absolutely hating that the troll photoshopped a dick into your mother’s mouth.

At least you and Heidi got close due to you guys both becoming social outcasts. When Wendy heard this, she was impressed by your dedication and felt somewhat guilty for obviously not trying as much in her former relationship.

Everyone admired your patience and endurance. No matter what obstacle came, you managed to get through it.

“You don’t need to be sad, Y/N. I won't be that far away.” Stan said, holding your hand.

“B-But it's outside of town. You need ages by bike to get there and vice versa.” You said, holding back tears.

Randy walked past you and you desperately pleaded to him.

“Please Mister Marsh, please stay in town!” Randy put the box he carried into the car, before turning to you.

“Real sorry, dear Y/N. This town is…How do I put it… Absolute shit and I really want to get away.”

He patted you on the head and went back into the house to get more boxes.

“Told you, you cant talk to him.” Stan said and shrugged.

“But it’s unfair. We won’t see each other as much anymore.” Stan pressed a kiss onto your cheek, which made you blush intensely.

“Don’t. Worry. I will make time for you.”

With that in mind, you didn’t feel as sad, when the car with the Marsh Family in it left for their new home.

“I will make time for you, my ass.” You mumbled while you sat at a bench near Starks Pond. Letting out a deep sigh, you leaned back and just enjoyed the warmth of the setting sun.

Covid was one hell of a bitch and just had to have this big impact on everyone’s life. Stan and you now saw each other less and less.

It was just a horrible feeling that tainted your heart and made you worry a lot.

Maybe he was feeling just as bad as you are, maybe even more?

Maybe he just didn’t want to tell you how he felt?

Were you maybe a bad partner? Your mind began racing and your train of thoughts became unrailed.

So many bad thoughts manifested themselves and it made you almost gasp for air.

“I need to check on him.” You mumbled getting up from the park bench.

You began walking and you kind of hoped that maybe just the walking would get your mind in check, but sadly it didn’t. Involuntarily you had to think about all the other stuff that happened during this horrible time.

The precious Broship was more fragile than ever. You had become such good friends with Kenny, Kyle and Cartman over time that it hurt you a lot too.

You also saw Covid take a toll on your other friends, like Craig and his group, who now took Cartman into their gang after the split up.

However, that came to be…

The girls were also pretty divided, so hanging out with them meant picking sides which wasn’t your thing, you kinda just want them to get along again.

Everything felt like it was falling apart. Your parents had fights ever so often, all your friends had problems and your beloved boyfriend was stuck on that stupid farm.

God how you hated that stupid farm and Randy.

When he gave you one of those plushies that looked like him, you functioned it into a voodoo doll. But sadly, it didn’t seem to affect him, no matter how many needles you rammed into it.

Your heart felt heavy, and it seemed hard to breathe, but you brushed it aside.

You had already reached the busy streets of South Park and mingled between the newly vaccinated people.

Everywhere you looked, the people seemed happy.

Everyone was happy except you and the people around you… Maybe…You were the problem?

You shook your head. No, you didn’t allow those kinds of thoughts.

You much rather think about Stan. How you miss him and how amazing your dates were.

Oh, how much effort he put into all the small things… Well… At least he did.

Now that you thought about it when was your last date?

It feels like it had been ages. It has been ages. Everything had been ages. Going out with him, hanging out with your friends, your family not fighting… How long has this been the new normal? You can’t help but wonder.

Your heart clenched again. “Stop it, stupid heart.” You mumbled under your breath.

An exhausted sigh escaped your lips when you thought about how you maybe had to walk all the way up to the farm… It would take ages, but you really craved being held by the person you adored so much.

So, you continued walking down through the street when an elder lady stopped you.

“Excuse me, but you look rather sickly, are you alright?” Confused you raised an eyebrow. Did the vaccines make them delusional?

“No, I’m fine.” You answered, somewhat snippy, even when you didn’t know why you were so agitated.

“But you look rather pale, maybe you- I am fine.” You interrupted her and continued your path.

Were all people in this shitty town stupid or- The thought could not be completed, due to you suddenly losing consciousness.

When you woke up again, you immediately recognized one of the Hells Pass Hospital rooms, once your eyes had adjusted to the bright lights. Around the bed were your parents and more importantly Stan and his mother.

“Thank God, you’re awake again!” Your mother said when she went for a hug.

Confused you asked why you were here.

“Well, seemingly you were so stressed out, that your body basically shut down.”

Somewhat shocked you looked around. Was it really a surprise to hear that? Not really, but it still felt odd knowing that it happened.

“Well, I’m glad you’re fine, Y/N.” Misses Marsh commented and smiled warmly at you. She had always liked you and you felt the same. She was always nice to you and you felt like she was the only one with a brain in the family…

Feeling a sudden sensation of warmness on your hand, your eyes darted down to it. Stan held you hand while answering something your dad had asked him.

“Well, Sharon, you wanna accompany us to get some hot chocolate for us all?”

Your mother said with an odd wink, which made you and Stan roll your eyes.

The three adults left the room chatting happily. Stan looked at you with a stern expression, which kind of surprised you.

“I swear, whenever I think I couldn’t get more worried about you, your parents call me, to tell me that you’re in the hospital.”

“Worried? About me? I should be worried about you?” You laughed to which Stan shook his head.

“Listen, everyone has been super worried about you since you seemed so down and just exhausted. Like, Kyle already called me earlier to ask if you’re awake again. I don’t know why you worry about me; I am really fine babe. Promise.”

With that said, the door opened, and your parents came back inside.

“Y/N, the doctor said they would like you to stay the night, so they can check that you’re really alright.” Your father informed you and you were immediately annoyed.

Well, you had no choice but to oblige. Your parents left after an hour, wanting to get you some clothes and other things you’d need.

Sharon also bids her goodbye and so you and Stan were left.

And just like you wished, you got to cuddle with him. He held you close, and you vented to him, how worried you were about everything and everyone, while he told you just how worried all of your friends had been since you were acting so out of character.

“Even Cartman?”

“Yup, even when he would never admit it.” Stan laughed. He held your hand tight, and his content smile never left his face.

“I think we should talk more about feelings and being worried and all that. I know I’m not all that good at it, but I don’t ever wanna have to visit you in a hospital again.” Stan said, giving your hand a squeeze.

“That sounds good. But you gotta accept, I worry a lot, because I care a lot about you, okay?” You said sternly and Stan nodded. You two looked fondly at each other and just enjoyed the time you got.

“Together forever?” You asked and he whispered “Forever.”, before he pressed a sweet kiss onto your lips.

[scrawnytreedemon]

Zelink for the ship bingo? :0 any game!

OH GOD, THIS IS?? Gonna be a doozy. Buckle in.

SkSw:

WW-PH: Link/Tetra:

Spirit Tracks(in theory! I haven't seen the game yet, can't speak personally):

Nearly all other instances:

RIGHT! getting onto individual analysis,

1, SkSw: By far my favourite of the bunch, and a longtime delight. Whether you construe their relationship as romantic or not, doesn't matter-- They've got such a wonderful arc of trust and unbreakable love. Zelda starts off incredibly worried for Link, constantly fretting and deeply unsure of his abilities. She steps in to defend him, willing to go up against Big Boys like Groose to do so. As the game progresses, however, and Link grows, in strength and in character, Zelda, and everyone else for the matter, put more trust in him-- By the end of the game, they're on equal footing, and, oh god, oh man, I'm gonna crybhfgjfhdgkjdjd--

2, WW-PH: Nothing to say except, tough girl, sweet boy? Phuck yeah!

Jokes aside, Link and Tetra's arc is also one of trust and vulnerability, but from a different angle. Tetra's a hard-as-nails, independent, morally dubious young girl who's landed herself as captain of a ship full of Big Boys, and sees Link as little more than a useful, if rather weak coincidence she can use to her advantage. However, as the pair grow,(really as Link grows and Tetra is thrown out onto the sidelines as her royal heritage is revealed and she's forced to take on a 'princess' role, one that notably feminises her and lightens her skin), again there's that theme of growth of trust! They take down Ganondorf together, build a new Hyrule together, and isn't that just what dreams are made of?

3, Spirit Tracks: Nothing much to say, other than the dynamic looks super sweet, and there's an interesting play with gender and presentation on Zelda's end? Love it to bits, 12/10.

Now... Onto the potatoes of this, I think. Get your gravy.

This... There's going to be more objective analysis and criticism, obviously, but alot of this is also going to be deeply coloured by my own personal experiences of heteronormativity and alienation. This isn't a commentary on anyone else's enjoyment of the dynamic-- I hope I've made that clear --But, just... I guess I should get to it.

Link and Zelda,

Zelink.

As one anon put it, the vanilla icecream of shipping.

Mild, sweet,

And incredibly heteronormative.

The Golden Relationship; the one toted by fans and Nintendo alike as "the ship".

Everything else, anyone else, is a deviation. It slots neatly into the expected hero-damsel dynamic that we've had, since, well, the beginning of time, almost. It's almost as dust of the earth as it gets. The issue for me being... They don't spend time much, really. Link is barely characterised half the time as little more than a slightly lackadaisical vessel for the player, and Zelda is a sort of guiding light; a dignified keeper of the plot, Righteous Guardian of Hyrule--

The culmination of all Hyrule presents itself as: wise, smart, beautiful, dainty but compitent, ready to lead a charge should need be... but rarely unruly. Rarely ever. Always right.

Obviously, it goes without saying how Breath of the Wild's iteration of this duo changes it up immensely. Zelda is a far more flawed, and in her attempt to put on a strong face, a far more emotionally vulnerable character than any of her gentle predecessors could ever hope to be. While this pairing and her character fail to hit that particular sweet spot in me, it's deeply intriguing, and I hope, perhaps vainly, that they'll develop her and her relationship with Link even more in the sequel-- Honestly, when it comes to this? An equality between her and Link is, I think, what would be best. A mutual understanding; vulnerability.

I think that's what puts me off from Zelink, on the whole. Link is bound to her, by destiny, by guidance, ever-performing his knightly duties, and Zelda is bound to him for strength, for protection. There's little emotional substance, half the time, save for small, precious moments, many with another face, because it's a dynamic inherently dependent on the war-- On danger.

It's all impartial, situational. There's nothing personal here.

And if that were it, if this were truly explored from that angle(as it is, to an extent, in BotW), then I think I'd like that-- Especially if it weren't romantic, I feel.

But that's not the vibe we're told to get: not from the fans... not from Nintendo.

Nintendo tends to be largely neutral on certain matters, such as pairings-- Honest to god, for the best, in my opinion-- But Zelink is that one blind spot where that ethos falls away. Here, Nintendo expects us to see it as some grand, destiny-bound romance, I feel,

And the pre-Skyward Sword manga, from what I know, cements this best.

It's why, quite frankly, I don't care for the idea of it being canon. Genuinely.

It undermines what little weight Ganondorf via Demise had on all of this, this horrific cycle of blood, pain and despair, always bracing for the next wave, of the sisyphian climb of this civilisation, and turns it all into a grand goddess' love for a boy bound to her by fate and destiny manifest.

I hate that.

For something like this, something where no one has any choice, where greatness is thrusted upon them, this endless state of being used that Skyward Sword even condemned, to be seen as good.

To get onto personal experience, before this blog, and this "persona," as it were, I used to have an art account where I largely posted TLoZ, frequented by my family. My very Christian, somewhat socially-conservative family. I would perform straightness, in the form of either pushing aside or pursuing M/F romance, because I was extremely uneasy about the types of conversations anything otherwise would arouse.

This was at a time where I wasn't even sure if I was bisexual, let alone divergent in my gender, so I felt a constant pressure to tamp it down and keep it out of the spotlight, relegating my explorations via art to DMs with the friends I'd make.

Here, on Tumblr, where peppy-queerness is the status quo, there's this tendency to gloss over unpleasant things and make them soft; sweet.

I think I've talked enough at length why that alienates me.

So, yeah... I guess, Zelink on a wider scale kinda just, sums up my unease about the often hegemonic status-quo of shipping, and on the whole I'm just kinda eh about it all.

Again, I think it should be very clear that this is not a reflection on my opinions of people who create Zelink content, who are attached to these characters. That sort of weirdly-tribalistic thinking is awful, and only brings about needless conflict-- Early 2000s-2010s kinda shit, y'feel me?

I hope this all made sense, kinda. I've just got... alot of feelings.

[bon-nii]

There's literally no stakes in the anime at all. Its so bland and emotionless. I don't feel anything for these characters. Everything is being handed to them. Give me back my son, Adam. He is far more intelligent than any of these anime characters. They all drank stupid juice.

Yeah, I definitely agree. I'm just watching to see where this ends up at this point (and also to shitpost lmfao)

Every Thursday me and two of my friends (one has read most of the manga, the other is anime-only) watch it on discord, or talk about it on discord and man... my friend who is anime-only is like "yeah, this sucks ass, I need to just read the manga" and is confused with stuff. We just kinda clown on it at this point. It's basically just someone's shitty canon-divergence AU playing out on screen.

Random assortment of thoughts:

I can sympathize with Manga Norman. I can understand WHY he is doing what he is doing and what his motivations are. It is, quite frankly, completely disgusting what he wants to do, but I can get why he wants to do it and I don't hate him. He is a very complex character, trying to make sense/live in a very complex world. Anime Norman on the other hand? I feel nothing for him like, I just Do Not Care. Norman is, imo, the best written out of the three mains and my personal favorite, but they've completely squandered his writing... ugh

I've held strong by this belief: If you are going to adapt TPN, there are 3 major characters who you *cannot afford* to mess up. Isabella, Yuugo, and Norman. (I'd even throw Peter and Leuvis in there as well) Well, Yuugo's gone and if they *do* decide to have him show up his character is completely different (i.e. the out of character note he leaves at the bunker). Norman has next to none of the depth he had in the OG story (I can't remember, but didn't Cislo or Barbara say that he saved the kids at the mass production plants? Uhhh, what?!?!). And Isabella is being built up as the big villain YET AGAIN which does not align with her development at all (though I do think they will still pull a bait-n-switch on us like in the manga) so there goes that.

Peter and Leuvis oh where do I start? Leuvis is my personal favorite villain of the story for multiple reasons (I think I will write an entire post on him sometime) and Peter is the epitome of everything Emma stands against and is essentially the Big Bad. Leuvis is gone, Peter is in the op but has had ZERO screentime thus far, not even any fucking hints to his existence at all. There's 5 eps left so he has to show up at some point, right? He's in the opening soooo... where the hell is he? How are viewers supposed to give a shit about him? He's pretty fucking dangerous and has been influencing the plot since day ONE, but whatever I guess??

Anime Ray is the only one I vibe with rn, and even then he's meh. Anime Emma is on thin fucking ice, and Anime Norman can be fed to the Dropkick Murpheys for all I care.

Infodumps. My god. These bitches be talking like they're reading a wikipedia article.

The literal butchering of Emma's character. Goldy Pond would have been the ep 19 of Demon Slayer of this anime season if they had adapted it, and I stand by that. The amount of HYPE on social media that would have happened after Emma pulls herself from the brink of death to challenge Leuvis would have been insane. There are so few strong, well-written female shonen protagonists... damn shame that the brilliance of Emma is relegated solely to s1 and the pages of the manga, she is a husk of herself in this season.

No character growth. Trio is separate for 90 chapters. That's literally half of the entire manga. There's no feeling of separation, no feeling that they are wildly different people now. These three have spent their entire lives together. Ray and Emma have to struggle without Norman, and Norman has to struggle without Ray and Emma. It's so important. This dynamic *literally* dictates how they grow as characters. When they are finally reunited it is so emotional and amazing, but also a bit unsettling because Norman is *clearly* not the Norman we remember... but in the anime we don't feel any of the impact of those 2 years.

Yuugo and Lucas. Contrasting the love Isabella gave to the kids with the love these two dads give to them. Adds a lot to the story. RIP.

Also RIP Adam and the Gold Pond kids... jeeeeeze there was so much potential.

Anime sacrifices extremely hard-hitting and emotional moments for cheap shock factor (namely, bunker raid and the trio reunion)

Speaking of the trio reunion, why the FUCK does Anime Norman not give a shit about Anime Ray? Hes completely ignored, and it's not like in the manga where he came in later no, like... he's there, seeing Norman at the same time Emma is. There's like, a solid minute and a half of Norman and Emma crying over each other while Ray just stands in the back like 🧍‍♂️and then is added as an afterthought. Emma's like "oh yeah, I brought Ray" GIRL??? And Norman is like "oh hey Ray.." BITCH?!?! YOU KNEW HE WAS GONNA FUCKING KILL HIMSELF AND HAD NO WAY OF KNOWING WHETHER OR NOT EMMA WAS ABLE TO STOP HIS SUICIDE, FOR 2 YEARS??? AND YOU JUST IGNORE HIM?? AND THEN ACKOWLEDGE HIM AS AN AFTERTHOUGHT?? I--okay!

Manga Norman: Emma and Ray are my best friends and I love them more than anything in the world, but Ray understands me in a way that Emma doesn't. They are both important to me.

Anime Norman: who the fuck is ray

Zero suspense. Minimal world building. Very minimal lore building. No mystery.

What the fuck is up with the William Minerva part of the plot like... uh, that's pretty important??? He's been completely dropped and there's zero reason for us to connect him with Norman. Like, he had his phone call in ep 3 and then any mention of him dipped. Disappointing as hell. Don't get to see the parallels drawn between him and Norman. Man...

Yeah idk what else... am I being too critical? Honestly, not sure. I think my criticisms and frustrations are well-founded, but I am definitely basing most of this off of the anime's failure to adapt the manga. Though I suppose, looking from an anime-only standpoint who has no idea just how much of the story has been axed, it might be okay or it might not be? Or it might depend on the person... in any case, I cant fathom how anyone could look at this season and go "Yeah, this feels like the same show as season 1!"

[consumedkings-archive]

THE LAND OF GODS AND DEVILS, a sequel.

—part i.

word count: 6k

rating: m for now, rating will change in later chapters as things develop, tags will be updated accordingly.

warnings: naughty language, massively canon-divergent, roman gets his own tag because he's a fucking nutso, canon-typical violence, established relationship that might not be the healthiest, age gap, domestic murder family. for this chapter in specific, roman likes to take things to the Extreme (i.e., "i'm going to fucking kms if you say this word one more time") but if you're here i imagine you know exactly what he's about.

notes: it's here! i know that most of my followers and friends on here are my friends through my far cry 5 content, but my return to the fic-writing world was inspired by my first longfic in a decade after watching birds of prey. you could say, perhaps, that i have a Type(TM), given that roman sionis lives rent free in my head forever and always. this is the sequel to my work carry your throne, though i like to think it's fairy user-friendly, especially once we really get into the thick of it.

special thank you goes to my beta and the loml, @starcrier; the first person to ever truly recognize varya for the wretched little beast that she is and love her anyway. thank you for being my beta and for loving my girl!

and, of course, another special thanks goes to @shallow-gravy, @vasiktomis, @faithchel, @tomexraider, and @belorage for being so supportive of my foray out of the far cry fandom and back into one that, in a way, brought me here in the first place!

summary: —by dread things, compelled.

roman sionis is the closest he has ever been to having everything that he wants; a perfect wife, a perfect family, a perfect international black-market arms dealing business signed over to him in its entirety. unfortunately for him, there are people in the world who would prefer to see him without, and that has never been a thing that roman has accepted for himself: being without.

(or: a fic wherein the devil spends his time rebuking sin.)

“If one more person says the word ‘chandelier’ in my presence,” Roman announced, drawing all eyes to him, “I'm going to blow my fucking brains out. Got it?”

There was a brief moment of silence that lapsed before the murmured acquiescence of the workers marked their return to their work. Blowing hot air from his mouth, Roman raked his fingers through his hair and turned back around to where Zsasz was watching him expectantly.

“What?” He demanded. “It’s my wife’s birthday.” Emphasis on the my, not the wife; it was not a favor Roman was doing for Varya, it was something he was doing for himself.

“V told them she wanted it.” Zsasz gestured to the offensive piece of lighting, which continued to haunt Roman’s waking and dreaming hours with its garish crystalline drippings and expensive bulbs. Ever since Varya had found out his fluctuating approval of the chandelier, it had been in and out of the Black Mask Club more times than he could count. Not that he needed to; he could very well put in or rip out a stupid fucking light fixture as many times as he wanted.

“Well.” Roman pulled a glass out from behind the bar, setting it on the top and dropping an ice cube into it. “She does so love to torture me.”

“It's just a—”

“Do you want my fucking guts on the floor, Zsasz? I mean it. Say the word and I’ll do it.”

The blonde regarded him drily. “No, boss.”

“Blood and guts everywhere.” Roman gestured widely with his free hand. “All over the floor. The bar top. You’ll have to clean it up. Maybe wipe down some of the bottles.”

“I won’t say it.”

“I don’t have to tell you how hard it is to get blood out of the carpet.”

Zsasz’s mouth quirked up in a smile. It said, without saying anything at all, no, you don’t. More agreeably, and with the flash of pearly whites and the capped tooth: “Sure.”

Roman poured well over what would have been considered the polite amount of expensive scotch into his glass, capping the bottle and setting it aside. It had been exactly twenty-four hours of making sure the club was perfectly polished and styled for Varya's birthday; though she was shrewd, she was so preoccupied with the twins and the lawyers and overseas business associates that she barely seemed to notice whatever was coming in and out of the Black Mask Club. He didn’t think she’d had a baby nor a phone out of her hands in over two days, and truthfully, it was starting to become tedious. Now that the twins were a little over a year old, they were supposed to be scheduling their honeymoon.

The delay of it hadn’t been a big deal, at the start. But everyday with you feels like my honeymoon, Varya had demurred months before the twins’ arrival, fluttering her lashes and gliding her fingers along the lapel of his jacket—and not even an hour after she’d curtly informed him that any more chatter, while she was nursing a headache, would be met with a swift and efficient extraction of his vocal cords by her own hands. Motherhood was supposed to have domesticated her, Roman thought, and had done the exact opposite; now, she was more assured of her status and power than ever.

So, yes; Varya had been busy, and he was almost certain she’d forgotten her own birthday. Never mind that everything had to be perfect. Never mind that it had to be immaculate. Never mind that Varya had deigned to order a brand new fucking chandelier from the same place they’d gotten one last time, knowing full well that he had made the executive decision to gut the fucking thing and get it out of his club.

“Tell you what, Zsasz,” Roman muttered, taking a swallow of the amber liquid in his glass, “don’t ever get fucking married. You want someone knowing all the shit that pushes your buttons all the time?”

“Maybe you just got a button pusher for a wife.”

Roman grimaced and took another swallow. It was true. “Fuck off.”

The blonde opened his mouth to say something else—and hadn’t he gotten confident in himself too, since Varya had become such a permanent fixture in their life, constantly goading and coercing him to voice his opinion on things, things that normally he would just defer to Roman on—when the doors to the stairwell and the elevator opened.

Eclipsing the doorway was Armazd, Varya’s hand-picked-from-the-batch-of-Russians-left-over-guard. Armazd had to be easily cresting six-foot-five, his dark beard neatly trimmed and peppered with silver, a scar breaking the color of his top lip. Roman had only ever seen the man swathed in dark clothes, like a fucking mourner on parade. His wife had been the one picked to be the twins' nanny, despite the fact that Roman felt like she barely did anything.

Also hand-picked. Thoroughly vetted. Interrogated for hours. No stone left unturned, when it came to Yuli and Ro.

“What are you doing down here?” Roman barked, coming around the side of the bar to make his way across the room. “You’re supposed to be going up and keeping—”

“She is coming down,” Armazd clarified. “In the elevator. Irina called to tell me.”

“Instead of stopping her?”

“She was—”

The elevator dinged in the hallway, and Roman quickly ducked around Armazd and closed the door into the club behind him. As soon as the doors slid open, he planted a smile on his face and closed the distance between himself and his wife.

Nobody would know, looking at Varya, that she not only barely utilized the nanny that they had furiously vetted and now paid handsomely, but that on top of juggling their twins she was actively in the process of getting a massive, international gun-running business signed over in his name. There was not a single hair out of place, not a single crease or rumple in the sapphire-blue silk of her blouse or skirt; the scent of her preferred jasmine perfume followed her like a cloud. She looked as put-together as the day he’d first seen her standing in his club.

And now, he desperately needed her to stay out of it.

“Kitten,” he greeted warmly, his hands—though gloved—immediately scratching the itch by reaching for her; they captured hers to carefully still her procession to the club’s main room. “What are you doing down here? I thought you’d be busy for hours.”

“Yuliana has been fussing nonstop,” Varya replied, her voice light despite what could only have been an expression of frustration quickly following, “all while I listen to grown men fussing nonstop at me on the phone.”

Roman feigned a sympathetic noise, bringing her hands up to his mouth to kiss them. “We have a nanny, V.”

“You know better than anyone else,” the brunette murmured, brushing her nose against his as their hands dropped, “that she is inconsolable without you.”

He tried not to look too pleased. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

“Don’t be modest, Romy.”

“Well, I’ll come up, of course.” He kissed the corner of her mouth. “And console our princess.” Another kiss, to the other corner. “So that you can continue letting grown men fuss at you.”

She beamed at him prettily, and finally they met in the middle for a real kiss—nothing coy, nothing demure, but lingering warm and just between the two of them.

“I love you,” she purred. “Go on, then.”

And then Varya pulled away, as though to go around him and into the club, and Roman blinked rapidly. He had only just caught her around the waist before she could walk in and pulled her in a full one-eighty until she was facing the elevator again.

“What are you doing?” she asked, a laugh bubbling out of her. “I was just going to make myself a drink.”

“Encouraging productivity,” Roman replied, hitting the button for the elevator doors to open again. “Ready for all this paperwork to be done, aren’t you? It’s been over a year.”

A year of wading through mafia-esque bureaucracy. A year of listening to Varya say, these things take time. A busy year, to be sure, jam-packed full of things—the biggest wedding in Gotham since its founding, the twins.

A funeral.

Roman tried more and more every day not to think about his (now) brother-in-law’s funeral, the double burial of the only man that might have stood a chance at being loved by Varya more than Roman himself and the only man who had ever been anything like a father figure to her. Family is tedious, he’d wanted to say, brothers and fathers and mothers, the whole lot of them, cut them loose why don’t you? Why should anyone matter to you outside of the twins and I?

Varya glanced at him over her shoulder. “These things take time.”

He rolled his eyes. “Mhm.”

“Not to mention, we were a little busy,” she added, eyes narrowing playfully as he nudged her into the elevator, “you know—having children.”

“And what beautiful children they are.” Roman hit the button without looking, the doors sliding shut behind him.

“Well, how am I supposed to suffer through those phone calls without a stiff drink?”

He quirked a brow upward. “I’ll make you a stiff drink, Mrs. Sionis.”

The brunette propped herself up against the back rail of the elevator as it whirred into motion. The corner of her mouth, painted ruby, curved and her head tilted inquisitively. “Oh?”

“Of course,” he demurred, sidling forward and boxing her in against the wall. “I’ll make you a stiff drink—”

He dropped his head to the slope of her jaw to plant a kiss there.

“—you’ll finish up with the lawyers, and put on the dress I bought you—”

Varya hummed and sighed sweetly.

“—we’ll go out to dinner for your birthday—”

He dropped his hands to her hips, planting a kiss on her temple so that he could rumble, “And we can get to work on baby number three, hm?”

A sweet laugh billowed out of her just as the elevator came to a stop and the doors slid open to bring to Roman the oh-so-sweet sounds of a caterwauling infant. Over the distressed crying was Irina’s voice, shushing and cooing dulcet words in Russian; he could see her swaying to and fro with a swathe of fabric bundled in her arms.

“I almost forgot about my birthday,” Varya said thoughtfully, completely unrattled by the sound of their daughter’s distress. She stepped out from between him and the elevator wall; Roman fell into step beside her easily, the sound of her heels clipping against the floor enough to draw Irina’s eyes to them.

Roman said, “I know you did,” and did not bother to hide his smugness as he held out his arms for the shrieking baby in Irina’s arms. The redhead regarded him with a sort of weary amusement before she acquiesced; with Yuliana safely in his arms, he watched Varya cross the room to turn the automatic rocker that held their son back on to a slow, lulling pace. The freckled infant babbled happily—ever the quieter of the twins—and as Varya said something to Irina in Russian that inspired the woman to depart to the kitchen, she absently picked up a baby blanket from the couch and wandered over to him.

“Yuli,” she murmured, waving her finger at the already-content infant, tucking the blanket around her “is that all you wanted, hm? Just for your papa to hold you?”

“What else could she want for?” he replied confidently. Soothing Yuliana’s fury had become old-hat for him at this point. And, certainly, it pleased him to know that sometimes, the only thing that would make his daughter stop screaming was being held by him. Not even Varya—who had taken to motherhood like a fish to water—bothered when she was in a fit.

Still, the brunette sighed dreamily, her finger captured by their daughter’s tiny hand before she said, “What a perfect little gem.”

Roman hummed his agreement. “Finishing that call with the lawyers?”

“Perhaps tomorrow,” Varya replied. “They’re in a mood today.”

“They’re in a mood every day.” Russians, he thought venomously.

“Yes.” She smiled, flashing pearly teeth at him. “But only today is my birthday.”

She had him there. Still, he was itching for the whole thing to be done—Ilarion had dragged his feet through the process of even drawing up the original contract, which had only been a spit in his face (“You are the only person who gets to fuck Varya Astakhova, that is as exclusive as it gets”) and by the time all of that nasty business had been wrapped up, Ilarion was dead.

Ilarion, and Nikita—leaving only a single living soul to be in charge of the Astakhov empire: Varya herself.

Which, she had expressed time and time again, she had no desire for; not in the public way that her father had done it, and Ilarion after them. She much preferred the clerical work of it all. Paperwork and public relations. Let the men do men’s work, she’d demurred one night, tangled up in their sheets, when he’d asked her what she was going to do with it. I don’t mind. They like me better as their madonna, anyway.

“You know,” she continued, breaking him out of his thoughts as she made her way to the bar cart, pouring herself a drink, “they will like you more if it’s you they’re talking to.”

“I don’t give a fuck if they like me or not,” Roman replied, lifting Yuliana with both of his hands so that he could look at her. “Isn’t that right, princess? Mommy gets to do all the paperwork so that your papa can spend all of his time with you, instead of listening to some dumbfucks bitch and moan on the phone.” He glanced at her. “Well, anyway, since it’s your birthday we can let it slide.”

“Very generous of you.”

“Get dressed, won’t you?” he prompted, depositing his now-content daughter in the mobile swing with her brother. “The table’s been ready for us since noon.”

Varya watched him, dark eyes glittering amusedly. “And why, my darling, did you make the reservation for noon? It’s nearly six now.”

“Because,” he replied, “I wanted to make sure they held it, regardless of how long it took us to get there.”

“Ah.” She lifted her chin a little, lashes fluttering with contentment when he reached up and brushed the hair from her face. “Or else?”

Roman flashed her a grin.

“Or else.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

They held the table.

“Good for them,” Roman said as they followed the server out onto the balcony. The table had clearly been refreshed—a new candle, a new vase, a new bucket of ice and bottle of champagne. He’d heard the waitstaff whispering furiously among themselves as they idled in the lobby to be taken to their table; now, settled across from the birthday girl, Roman was content with the way they had squirmed.

“Quicker than the two-hour wait last time,” Varya noted by way of agreement, smoothing her hand along the edge of the tablecloth.

He scoffed. The only reason they had waited in the lobby for two hours was because Varya had asked him to stay for the table she wanted. If it had been his way, they would have left with a bloody warning and gone somewhere else. “I can’t believe I finally convinced you to leave the twins home for a night and we got stuck sitting in that fucking lobby because they gave our table away.”

“In my defense, they are good babies, Romy. Hardly ever cry. Certainly not too much trouble.”

“But there’s two of them,” he replied, “and toting two babies around is a lot of work. All I’m saying is, what’s the point of paying her that much fucking money if we’re just going to—”

The waiter came by the table, clearly a little stressed; the lines of concern on his face were clear as he cleared his throat and said, “Should I come back?”

Varya, perusing the menu: “No, my darling, you may stay. You were saying, Romy?”

“I just don’t know why we’re shoveling money into her bank account for her to be a glorified accent chair in our house rather than a nanny.” Roman gestured to the champagne bottle expectantly. “Open it.”

The waiter did as he asked, having been standing there uncomfortably for a moment during their exchange. As he worked to carefully open the champagne bottle, Roman turned his attention back to Varya; her eyes remained on the menu, absently twisting the engagement and wedding band on her finger back and forth.

There was no way, he thought, that she was putting off getting the business signed over to him on purpose. Surely, there was no way; even when Ilarion was alive, even when she had anticipated no further problems, it had always been, if you’re going to be my romantic partner, it seems only right you’d be my partner in business too, don’t you think? And yet—

And yet, Roman could not push down the strange, hazy doubt that occasionally flickered through his mind. He had always wanted Varya, had always found himself wanting and wanting and wanting more and more often, and Varya had always seemed content to indulge him. There was, it seemed, nothing she enjoyed more than indulging him. One more kiss, one more minute in bed, one more lingering glance across the room. She was the absolute pinacle of his hedonism, in every sense of the word, and had proven time and time again that she would give him anything that he wanted.

The business had always been for her and Ilarion. He wanted it, and told her he did, and she said, you can have it, if you like, but like in all things, there was a slyness about his wife—a cruelty—that he found endearing and dangerous. Dangerous, because it wouldn’t have been the first time he’d been on the other end of her cruel nature, playfully poking and unwinding and tugging the thread loose until she had pushed him to the limit.

Something echoed in his head, and he realized that the waiter was asking him what he wanted to eat. Varya had handed the menu over and steepled her fingers, watching him with dark, curious eyes and red painted lips, sooty lashes fluttering. A pretty, painted little snake.

“I’ll take whatever she’s having,” Roman said after a moment, setting his menu aside and returning his attention to the brunette across from him. “Something interesting, kitten?”

“Can I not just appreciate my husband?” Varya demurred. “You’re wearing the suit I like best, after all.”

“It is your birthday. What greater gift is there than me?”

She laughed, delighted by him—as she always was—and took a sip of her champagne. “You were away from me, for a moment.”

He watched her, gauging her carefully. Even I know not to drop my pants when a viper opens its mouth, Bianchi had said, just before Varya had unloaded six rounds into his face and chest less than two feet away from him.

“Just thinking,” is what Roman said finally.

“Hm. A dangerous past time.”

His expression flattened, deadpan. “It’s taken a significant chunk of time to secure your father’s business in my name.”

Something flickered across Varya’s expression. at the word father. “To secure my business,” Varya replied, her voice abrupt and cutting, her eyes narrowed, “in your name.” Absently, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She looked to be composing herself, like she’d spoken on a knee-jerk reaction rather than with thinking.

Then, glossy and silken again: “You know your patience means the world to me, Romy.”

There was nothing that he loved more than watching her pull back her venom for him. Drumming his fingers against the top of the table, Roman bridled his own irritation to say, mildly, “I’d do anything for you. Even wait...” He made a thoughtful noise. “Over a year to finally take on the responsiblities you wanted handed over to me.”

“Of course.” Varya smiled prettily, absently straightening out her silverware. “And we will speak no more of my father on my birthday, or any day after this.”

He knew what that meant. She phrased it pretty, wrapped it up in silk and velvet and presented it to him as unassuming as a doe, but he knew what that meant. There is my button, she was saying, there is my trip wire. Don’t push it, Roman. The name Nikita had all but been banned in their household, even when funeral arrangements were being made; any time he’d heard one of the lawyers mention her father’s name, there had been a sharp rebuke. Not in my presence, she would tell him later, I do not want to hear that fucking name in my presence.

“At any rate, there is nothing that I want more than for this whole process to be done,” she continued lightly, reaching across the table to take his hand. “It was always what I wanted, you know. Ilya was better suited to be a functional piece of the business; he was the face because he had to be, not because he wanted to be, and I am better suited for the nitpicking and the details. Being the overseer is much more in your circle of talents, Romy.”

Her words assauged something unsettled and prickly in him, the sweep of the pad of her thumb across the back of his hand returning that doubtful monster in his mind back to its slumber. He sighed.

“You’re right,” he acquiesced after a moment, “it is more in my circle of talents.”

“Undoubtedly.”

“I always got the impression Ilarion wasn’t happy with it,” he added. “Though you two certainly enjoyed making work of me that first night, didn’t you?”

Varya smiled demurely. “It was never meant to make work of you, only to make a good impression.”

“Hm,” he replied, eyes narrowing playfully, “but you enjoy pushing me, V.”

She looked pleased. She always did, when he remarked on something that felt like he was really seeing her, beneath the glossy veneer. His girl did so love being seen.

“Only,” V demurred, “because you so enjoy reining me in.”

“Guilty as charged.”

Roman brought her hand to his mouth, kissing the back of it before relinquishing it and glancing around. He would just have to exercise patience, of which he had the most; patience, modesty, and humility, all excellent qualities that he could participate in at will, at any given time. Without any restraint.

“Did the men get the chandelier installed?” Varya idled, snapping his attention back to her. He narrowed his eyes.

“I told you I didn’t want a chandelier anymore.”

She looked at him across the table, dark doe eyes wide and innocent. “I thought you liked how polished they make the club.”

“No, you little viper,” Roman replied, clicking his tongue, “Paolo has a chandelier in his club, and there’s no fucking way I’m going to have people comparing it.”

“Ah,” she murmured, “the drama of the chandelier goes on.”

“And while we’re at it, might as well gut that one from the estate, too.”

“There’s more than one chandelier in there.”

“Then the men will be busy, won’t they?” He tsked his tongue. “I know you dream about watching me blow my top, V, but I’m making an executive decision on gaudy light fixtures.”

A smile flashed across her expression, pearly teeth and delighted eyes. She sighed, almost dreamily, like there was nothing more that she liked than to be doing this exact thing, and with him.

“Oh, Romy,” the brunette said sweetly, “you are the only thing I dream about.” And then, almost as an after thought: “Gaudy light fixture terrorism included.” She waved her hand to dismiss any protest or rebuttal he might have given her and said, “Now, since it’s my birthday, tell me all of the things you love the most about me.”

Roman sucked his teeth, eyeing her for a moment as he leaned back in the chair. Wicked little thing, waiting to preen and glow under his attention, a feline seeking him out. Her little bout of cruelty before was already forgiven. He said, “We’re going to be here for a while, if I do that.”

“They held the table for over six hours,” Varya demurred, “I’m sure they’ll hold it for as many more as you need.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

By the time they got to the club, Varya was acting as though nothing had happened.

Truthfully, Roman preferred it that way. It just also left a lot of room to wonder—his wife was a talented actress, adept at smoothing his ruffled feathers out and not divulging her own feelings on the matter. And he wouldn’t ask, of course. If Varya wanted to express herself, she would, and had, quite openly in the past.

“I am so happy to be home,” she announced, gliding past the door to the club once Roman had opened it for her. “Do you think the babies are asleep, yet? I always miss putting them...”

Her voice trailed off, pausing a little as she seemed to realize that the club was cloaked in inky darkness, freezing just a few steps past the threshold. Roman let the door swing shut behind him, nudging her forward with a hand at the small of her back. He was met with some resistance; she steeled, stiffening against his insistence, before taking a few steps forward.

He said, barely keeping the delight out of his voice, “You’re holding up the line, V.”

“Roman,” Varya said, her voice pitched oddly soft and tight, “why—?”

The lights flashed on to a loud, unified cheer of Happy Birthday!; the club had been packed with vases of flowers, the tables donned with food and drink, and everyone worth their salt within a fifty-mile radius had made their way there. Not a single thing was out of place—everything exactly where he had instructed it be placed, and not a fucking chandelier in sight.

Roman came around in front of the brunette, grinning. “Happy—”

He stopped. Varya’s expression was not happy, or even surprised; it was something else, something that he couldn’t read, the pupils of her hot-whiskey eyes blown wide and the normally Renaissance-soft lines of her face sharpened and hardened into an expression that was more vicious.

“V?” he asked. Her eyes snapped to him, and for a second she looked the same way she had that night in the loft, her hands drenched in blood and the kitchen knife clutched in her fist with bodies at her feet: like she didn’t recognize him.

It took a heartbeat, but her expression smoothed out and she smiled, almost sheepish—like she’d been caught doing something naughty, instead of being caught being somewhere else. Someone else, more the wolf than the girl.

“The lights,” she explained, hands resting on his chest, “they startled me, is all.”

A frown creased his expression. He brought his hands up to hold her wrists, thumb pressed against her pulse point. It fluttered unsteadily. Unconvinced, Roman pressed, “The lights?”

“Just the lights,” Varya assured him. She tilted her head up and kissed him, one hand departing his jacket to go to the back of his neck—and when she kissed him, he could feel that strange little flicker of energy, like she’d been stamping something out before it could catch, but it still vibrated under her skin.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but she disentangled from him and swept around to the crowd of people waiting, beaming prettily and playing at bashfulness, as though she did not enjoy their eyes on her and did not soak their attention up like a flower did sunlight. Whatever had been plaguing her in that moment was now gone, and she was awash with attention and love, thanking people profusely and accepting each hug and cheek-kiss directed her way.

Roman brushed off the odd feeling that she wasn’t being as forthcoming with him as he would have preferred—no secrets anymore, isn’t that what they’d agreed on?—and instead waded into the crowd. Music kicked on overhead; chatter picked up to a warm humming around them; there was nothing else to think about except letting his girl enjoy her birthday celebration.

By the time Varya had made a suitable number of rounds (which tended to verge much higher than one, much to Roman’s chagrin—what tedious work, to share her with everyone else), she had barely sipped the glass of champagne someone had planted in her hand. She circled back to him eventually; like always, there was that pinprick tugging in the cavity of his chest, like they were bound by a single thread that kept them from parting too much and too quickly, and when she drew closer to him again it oozed relief, warm and vibrant, through his ribs.

“Sufficiently loved on?” he asked as she neared, hand reaching up to slide around her waist.

“By them? Certainly.” The brunette’s hand smoothed along his shoulder, the pad of her thumb gliding across the velvet of his jacket. “By you, though, not hardly. Not ever.”

“You are insatiable,” Roman agreed in a rumble. He splayed his fingers against the small of her back, tugging her in closer and brushing their noses together.

“Just for you,” Varya murmured, and the words brushed their lips together just a little—but everything with Varya, like this, felt like almost-kissing, enough to push him to some kind of edge where his stomach twisted and wrenched with want when she added, “And only for you.”

“You know I can’t resist you when you talk like that.”

She laughed, leaning in to set her glass to the side and curl her fingers into his shirt for a kiss; everything for a second felt normal, and good, and right again, the strange way she’d gone-away back in the doorway having disappeared, the dark cloud over her having cleared, her wretchedness from dinner dissipated.

And Roman kissed her, with the sound of the party chatter ringing in his ears, and kissed her with the faint taste of champagne flooding his senses when she parted her lips against his, and kissed her while his hand fisted the fabric of her dress and he managed out in a voice rough with want, “So you’re trying to rile me up.”

“I always,” Varya murmured against his mouth silkily, “want you riled, Romy.”

“Varya?”

A stranger’s voice filtered through the haze—the rose-colored one that usually accompanied Varya saying anything like she wanted him riled up—and Roman felt the irritation spike straight through it. He turned to look at the interruption at the same time that Varya did, only to find a young, handsome blonde standing just a foot away.

Varya said, sounding faint, “Maxim?”

“It has been a while,” the blonde said, and he sounded sheepish. “I called Armazd, asking after you—”

“Sorry,” Roman interjected briskly, fingers still curled—now possessively—into the fabric of Varya’s dress against the dip of her spine, “but who are you?”

His wife started to say, “Romy, this is—” at the same time that the man began, “I am sorry, my name—” and they both stopped at the same time, a strange little silence stretching between them.

“Maxim,” Varya said after a second, turning to look at Roman now. “This is Maxim. He is Artyem’s son.”

Roman stared at her, more to buy himself time than anything; she said the name like he was supposed to know who that was. Artyem, but it didn’t sound familiar. Almost any Russian name sounded like gibberish to him, and if Varya had said it to him, it had been in passing, an afterthought, nothing but a whisper of information passed between them before it was gone again.

Until it did. Until he remembered that the person Varya had thought was her father had actually been Artyem, that she’d poisoned him, let him bleed to death on the carpet while she had mentally checked out of the moment. That she had watched him die, but she had been somewhere else—someplace else, the way Ilarion had described it, very far away where she couldn’t even enjoy what she’d done fully.

And Maxim—golden, and polished, and clean-shaven—looked awfully pleasant for someone whose farther had choked to death on his own blood because of Varya.

“I see,” Roman said, even though he didn’t. His gaze turned to Maxim. “And you’ve—shown up without calling ahead?”

“I have been in Turkey,” Maxim explained, “finishing up some business, and I did not know how to get in touch—”

“Well, you spoke with Armazd, didn’t you?” Roman’s head tilted. “The man practically sleeps in our bed, I imagine he would have been happy to get you in contact with us.”

“Admittedly,” Maxim said, “I wanted it to be a surprise—”

No, Roman thought absently, venomously, that won’t do at all.

“—Varya’s birthday—”

“So you slunk in,” Roman elaborated tartly, “like a little street dog, hm?”

“Maxi,” Varya interjected, fingers absently tracing the stitching on Roman’s jacket, “why don’t you go get a drink and acquaint yourself with our friends? Armazd is just there—you see?”

Maxim’s eyes darted between her and Roman for a minute. He shifted on his feet, tilting and giving a little smile that might have liked abashed if Roman didn’t think he saw a little squirm of self-satisfaction in his gaze. Fucker.

“Of course,” the blonde replied after a moment. “C dnyom razhdyenyem, Varushka.” He took a step forward, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

Varya’s thumbnail dug into the lapel of Roman’s jacket. “Thank you, Maxi.”

Once the blonde had departed, linking up with Armazd in the crowd to get introduced, Roman straightened up from the bar. It was impossible not to stare at this newcomer—he glowed with an easy charisma, flashed bright smiles that were all teeth. Roman hated him already.

“Maxi?” he asked her, eyes narrowed, and Varya sighed. He waited for her to elaborate. Perhaps she’d say they had dated once, perhaps they were literally nothing. That would be ideal, after all. Ships passing in the night.

She said, “We grew up together.”

Even worse. Roman twisted a loose, dark curl of hers around his finger. “And you killed his father.”

“Well—” She paused, mouth pressing into a thin line. “He does not know.”

“He doesn’t—” The notion that she was keeping secrets, and not from him, coiled high and happy in his throat. He tried not to sound too delighted when he said, “V, surely he knows.”

“Surely he does not, that I did it. Only that it happened. And I will keep it that way,” she added firmly, picking up her champagne glass from the bar top. “Maxim was incredibly loyal to my father because Artyem was, but more than that—he was mine and Ilya’s friend. I’m sure he is missing Ilya almost as much as I am.”

“As we all are,” Roman agreed sagely, planting a kiss on her temple in spite of the dry look she gave him. It was hard to tell, to get a read on this Maxim. What was it he’d dragged himself out of the trenches for? Just to fly halfway across the world to wish Varya a happy birthday? Above all things, Roman understood that his wife was a desirable thing, and knowing that he kept her out of the reach of others was part of her appeal—but that much? Could someone who was just a friend want that much?

He continued, “So what is it that Maxim offers to the business, hm?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Varya demurred, which didn’t sound at all like the truth. “Artyem was the one who sent him out on jobs. My father kept things tight around the top, you know. If anyone would know what it was Maxim was up to in Turkey who wasn’t my father or Artyem, it would have been Ilarion.”

“I find it hard to believe you have no idea what your father was using someone for.”

The sound of delighted commentary drew both of their eyes away; Irina had come down, both dark-haired infants in her arms, and was walking them toward Varya and Roman. Murmured remarks on what could only be their cuteness passed throughout the crowd of party-goers.

“I am putting them down for bed,” Irina announced as she approached, “and I know you like to say goodnight.”

“Oh, you are an angel,” Varya murmured, glass set aside once again. She leaned in, pressing a kiss to baby Ro’s cheek. Yuliana babbled, and she sighed dreamily, “Have you ever seen more perfect babies, Roman?”

Perfect babies, a perfect wife; soon, he would even have the perfect grip on Gotham’s neck, throttling it until it was nothing but dust and ash. Soon, but not soon enough; he’d be content when it was just done and settled, when there was nothing else standing between him and everything that he wanted. Varya, and the guns—what an odd thing, to know that a year ago he’d set out for this and it was just falling into his lap.

“Romy?”

“Never,” Roman replied, smiling and glancing back at his wife, reaching and cradling the back of Yuli’s head. “I’ve never seen more perfect babies, V.”

Across the room, Maxim watched them. There was something about it that Roman didn’t like—the way his eyes flickered, the way he looked between the children and Varya, the way their eyes met and he didn’t deflect away. Like he didn’t mind getting caught. Where had he come from? What little shithole had he crawled out of, over a year after Nikita’s death and Ilarion’s death—longer, still, since his father’s death? Hadn’t he wondered what had happened to his father?

What are you doing here, he thought venomously, that you think you can just come in here like nothing? Like I won’t root you out like the little rat you are?

Maxim smiled. It was a polite smile, unassuming kind of smile.

Roman picked up his drink from the counter, taking a heavy swallow. Suddenly, the evening seemed to stretch out endlessly in front of him, no finish line in sight.

Nothing else standing between me and everything I want.

And he was going to keep it that way.

[calpalsworld]

Got A LOT of asks about Wu and Garmadon and their shapeshifting in Ninjago Respun so heres a BIG answer instead

[spoilers for canon Ninjago lore, and minor spoilers for Respun lore since I’ll gradually explain this all in canon anyway. Only read this if you are DYING to know I guess?] [Whenever I say “we’ll talk about that later” that basically means I won’t talk about that further even if you ask, sorry D: Gotta wait for the comic to address that.] CONTEXT: The First Spinjitzu Master was SOOO strong. He was NOT supposed to exist, not just because of the eternal war between Oni and Dragon, but because sex between the two does NOT usually yield any Baby?! (Plus some other reasons ill talk about later). So like. Woaaah wtf? So.... that one baby? The First Spinjitzu Master? Yeah, he is a god! All the powers that dragons and oni have? He has them, and more.

SOME FIRST SPINJITZU MASTER DETAILS:

Dragons usually only have titles for names, so “First Spinjitzu Master” is literally his name.

He is immortal.

Oni are shapeshifters with no defined form. Dragons are shapeshifters too, but to a lesser extent (we’ll talk about that later). So the First Spinjitzu Master is a shapeshifter too. And so, humans are literally the fursona of the FSM.

He can create shit like its no big deal. He made the land, the plants, the animals, the people, the elements -- he made *almost* EVERYTHING in the realm of Ninjago (we’ll talk about that later).

Some aspects of Ninjago’s many cultures came from the First Spinjitzu Master -- from Oni and Dragon -- but other parts developed independently. In the Oni-Dragon language, “he” is a pronoun referring to Oni, and “she” is a pronoun referring to Dragons. There are other things too but that would take A LONG TIME to talk about... moving on...

HISTORY OF WU AND GARMADON’S SHAPESHIFTING AND ONI-DRAGON HERITAGE BIRTH | YEAR 0: So, the immortal Oni-Dragon named the First Spinjitzu Master, aka: God, decided to create people for his cool awesome realm. He wanted humans to be different from himself, but he also wanted a couple people who were just like him that could continue his legacy. He wanted people who could forever defend what he created. So he just mpregged himself and made two kids! Lying: He summoned them into existence, no pregnancy involved, sorry. Cries. The first he created was named Garmadon (named by himself), and the second he created was named Wu (named by his dad like a loser HAHA). Garmadon was born (created) in late winter, and Wu was born (created) in early summer. Wu and Garmadon are biologically identical to their father, half Oni, half Dragon, and immortal. But they are not as powerful as him. Beings equally strong as himself would be impossible for the FSM to create. His sons don’t have the same creation powers as him, but they have the same Oni and Dragon abilities. When Wu was born (created), Garmadon instantly chose to look almost identical to Wu. He previously had a different form that the First Spinjitzu Master designed for him, but fuck that (we call this becoming the realm of Ninjago’s first transgender person). At birth they looked and acted like they were around 3 years old. CHILDHOOD | YEARS 0-30: Wu and Garmadon’s physical forms are a conscious decision, but are also affected by their subconscious mental states. This caused them to age like MOSTLY like a normal child would... just a BIT slower. They also interacted mostly with people the same age as them, and chose to age like they did (we’ll talk more about this later). Garmadon got bit by the Great Devourer when he was 7. His eyes would look like he is really high sometimes (glow red) because of the curse, unrelated to shapeshifting. He also has a scar on his arm from the bite and the venom. It is usually very hard to scar an Oni/Dragon, but it was a powerful, long-term, magical wound. The bite caused him to become soooooooo angry and evil that he made up a Oni-persona because Onis look evil and cool. The two of them were always distracted by exploring the world, rather than questioning who they were. They just knew their father was from “outside the realm” and “half oni, half dragon.” They knew he and they could live forever, while others couldn’t, and knew they could shapeshift, while others couldn’t. But they never questioned him further, like.... they didn’t really care lol. Around 30 they looked/acted like they were around 15 years old (around 30 is when they met Aspheera btw). TEENAGE YEARS/YOUNG ADULTHOOD | YEARS 30-70: More adventuring and not caring about who they are. On one adventure, Wu got “crucified” by a village of people, Breaking-Wheel-Style on a Dharmachakra, while Garmadon watched and laughed. Eventually Wu and Garmadon met this woman on their adventures. [[Ninjago spoilers, cough cough --mystaké, --cough cough]]. She cryptically explained a few things: Dragon and Oni were at war in the past, Dragons create, Oni destroy, and currently the two species are dispersed across the realms. Wu and Garmadon’s father got mad at this lady for spilling all these beans, so she shut up about the dragon and oni shit, but still guided them in other ways for many many many many many many many many years to come. Around age 60, Wu and Garmadon looked about 30 years old. Their father passed on when they were 60, and the brothers began to diverge in the way they physically looked. Prior to this, they were near identical and relatively normal looking. My dearest apologies to those of you who love sexy 30 year old sensei Wu, buuuttttttttt, over the next decade, Wu became eldercore and wisdompilled as fuck. Meanwhile, Garmadon became a ripped 7′0 hottie (smh), who SLOWLY got older over centuries, paralleling Misako’s age. We’ll talk about Misako later. CENTURIES GO BY | YEARS 70-450: Btw, despite being really hard to scar, Wu got scars on his arms from another “crucifixion” at some point. (we’ll talk more about this later). .......More stuff happens.... not related to onis or dragons shapeshifting...... At age 450: -- oh crap GARMADON YOURE EVIL AF *banishes him*. We’ll obviously talk a LOT more about the banishment event later, ofc. Garmadon gets #pissed and so #fuck #anger #kill that he turns into his four-armed oni-persona. Wu and Garmadon know dragons. Wu hid the four golden weapons so Garmadon could never get them, and had dragons guard them. He is actually pretty tight with these dragons. They’re his friends. They were friends with Garmadon too. In the “Pilot”, “Weapons of Destiny”, Wu could’ve stopped these dragons from fighting the Ninja, but he wanted to test his students lmao. As for Oni, Wu and Garmadon (believe they) have never met a full-Oni. UP TO THE CURRENT DAY | YEAR 610. Most of Ninjago’s people know nothing about Oni and Dragons. Oni and Dragons are just mythological, often dismissed as fake. They don’t know Wu, Garmadon, and the First Spinjitzu Master are related to Oni and Dragon at all. Their origin doesn’t need explanation to most citizens. People just think, “Oh, The FSM, Master Wu, and Lord Garmadon? You mean God, Jesus, and Evil Jesus?” (Of course, the “Jesus” part is COMPLETELY non-diegetic, and they don’t actually call them that. They don’t know wtf Jesus is). I could go off about religion in Ninjago, but don’t get me started lol XD So, in conclusion, we got two immortal half-dragon-half-oni idiots that are worshipped by the average citizen. Wu is purposefully eldercore, and Garmadon is purposefully a ripped 7′0 oni-persona hottie. Post that explains rules of oni-dragon shapeshifting. That’s the lore at the moment. Any thoughts? Criticisms? Any other questions?

[sanjuno]

Meta Fic rides again

I'm a little stuck on how to word something in my Nano 2020 project so I decided to take a break by trying to read “Scum Villain’s Self Saving System” again and failed horribly because I got to the part when Binghe comes back and my interest died a quick and messy death for yet a third time. Someone write me a giant pile of gen-fic and LiuShen AUs to heal my heart.

Here, I’ll start us off:

Spite and Fury (or; PEDW is a hive of Scum and Villainy)

So bitter-old-man!Madara dies of old age after he passes his Epic Revenge Plot over into Obito’s keeping, and the Sage’s knockoff-brand cycle-of-transmigration peels Indra’s chakra out of Madara’s soul - which results in dying!Madara having a screaming ragefit that sends his spirit-and-chakra careening through the void between worlds

At which point shattered-and-fragmenting-more!Madara gets into an altercation with the System and since the System is a little bitch it tosses Madara into the worst possible Fate it can think of (see: PEDW)

Transmigration bullshit and Sharingan fuckery smash into each other in a gigantic clusterfuck of asspulls

Madara is missing bits because Indra’s imprint got ripped out

The Shen Jiu base soul is missing bits because torture and previous abuse of his character by the System

The resulting villain amalgamation is Not Pleased

Instead of landing in the divergence point chosen by the System - aka the Qi deviation fever shortly after Binghe arrives at Cang Qiong Sect – we instead have the jigsaw puzzle mashup of Mads-and-Jiu land in baby-slave Jiu’s body

The good news is Madara and Jiu stop fragmenting because they end up woven together - they’re stuck together as an almost-single person only with two different sets of memories

Character exploration is going to be an EVENT

Also the Madara part of them is really happy with the silky smooth hair

Also Yue “lets-Binghe-kill-him-because-he-thinks-Shen-Jiu-is-dead” Qi is cast is a much better light when compared to Senju “stabs-his-sworn-brother-in-the-back” Hashirama

So Mads-Jiu plays it close to canon for the first few years - the only real difference is that he tags his Jiejie with a tracking seal for after he escapes from slavery - he’s not leaving his ability to find her again up to chance or developing a reputation as a whoremonger if he can help it

When he gets bought by the Qiu is when Mads-Jiu starts being a manipulative little shit like we all know he is

Xanatos-pileup-or-bust!Mads-Jiu basically lets Yue Qi escape alone because he NEEDS Yue Qi to become Cang Qiong Sect Leader for his long-term plans to work properly

So Mads-Jiu warns Yue Qi that if he has to be CAREFUL because cultivating is dangerous and if Yue Qi comes back missing any pieces then Jiu will cut the EXACT SAME BITS OFF HIMSELF

And so Yue Qi is EXTREMELY safety conscious and the life eating sword drama is avoided entirely

Of course he’s also taking longer to reach his initial strength levels than in canon because he isn’t rushing

So there’s nothing like Yue Qi showing up early to trigger a plot divergence alert in the System

</mwahahaha>

Mads-Jiu is more pragmatic regarding Qiu Haitang’s so-called innocence this time around - and so he arranges for her to catch the Creeper Qiu bro abusing and assaulting Shen Jiu

Haitang is HORRIFIED AND DISGUSTED to see what her brother is doing to her fiancé and also TERRIFIED by the fact that he talks the entire time about how sweet it’s going to be when it’s HAITANG under him

The Qiu burn on schedule but Haitang kills her fair share - double Qi deviations FTW!

The system does not notice such a minor change in the background events - Jiu kills the Qiu, burns down their house, and Haitang survives the fire with vengeance raging in her heart

Mads-Jiu kills the demonic creeper that was hanging around because ew no and also keep your hands of Haitang

Again, it’s too close to canon for the System to notice - Jiu killed him in defense of a “childhood friend” so hahaha again

Instead of being used as a stalking horse by an evil master Mads-Jiu runs off with Haitang to track down and rescue his Jiejie

Shenanigans ensue

Afterwards Mads-Jiu “has an idea to help find Qi-ge” by asking around for him at the Immortal Alliance Conference

Of course there are more shenanigans and Yue Qi saves all three by claiming that they’re Cang Qiong disciples - so of course he drags all 3 of them back with him and wibbles at the current Sect Leader until he lets them all join

Still (mostly) following canon! Ha! So no “punishment” events get triggered in the System (which is mostly dormant because the Protagonist isn’t born yet XP)

Qiu Haitang was supposed to join a Sect! Jiejie got sold on schedule! Shen Jiu killed the Qiu and his “first master”! Yue pesters his Shizun into letting his sibling(s) join the Sect in an unorthodox fashion!

But the devil is in the details

And the devil’s name is Uchiha Madara

Jiejie ends up as Peak Lord for Talisman Peak because magic and seals saved her before

Haitang ends up Peak Lord for Hidden Peak because she refuses to be caught unawares by a dangerous secret ever again... also because she’s a mean sneaky bitch and owns it

Having more than one sibling for the Sect Leader to blatantly favour means less wholesale resentment directed at Mads-Jiu as well

However the Jiu part of them has memories from PIDW and also SVSSS - so he knows that shit is going to get horrible once Su Xiyan gets knocked up

Obviously the answer is to seduce all of his fellow peak lords into a glorious polyamorous clusterfuck so as to promote skinship and pack bonding and harmony among the sect leadership

(It worked for PIDW Binghe with his wives and SVSSS Shen Yuan with getting Bing-mei to chill his tits after all and nobody can trip you into bed quite like a shinobi)

And so Cang Qiong’s family aesthetics get rocked so hard that instead of panting after his Shizun baby disciple Binghe decides to seduce his peers...

... and his rivals

... and other sect’s disciples

... and the occasional demon

Mads-Jiu is really proud of his baby demon lord but makes sure not to single Binghe out - instead every Qing Jing disciple gets rewarded and punished at the same time

It promotes bonding! And teamwork!

And prevents the utter destruction of Mads-Jiu’s chrysanthemum via oversized demonic pillar!

There is totally going to be an extra where Mads-Jiu realizes that the average size of a male cultivators pillar is DANGEROUSLY EXCESSIVE

NOBODY NEEDS THAT MUCH PILLAR

Even HIS pillar hasn’t escaped the curse

BIGGER IS NOT BETTER!

How the fuck is he supposed to fight if he can’t even wear pants comfortably!?!?

(No wait come back Mu-shidi this shixiong is sorry it wasn’t mockery it was a perfectly reasonable tantrum that was a long time coming now stop sulking your dick is very pretty let shixiong make it up to you~)

And at some point there will be a wild Bing-ge who appears to cause trouble with a mirror that’s intended to temporarily transform people into the form of their last life - he aims it at the native Bingbing to get him out of the way so he can steal the “nice” Shizun

It would have been Pom time for Bingbing but Mads-Jiu pushes him out of the way

And cue giant explosion of dark Qi as a bonus expansion pack of Madara’s 10-tail Jinchuriki time with powers-and-memories gets downloaded into Mads-Jiu

Mads-Jiu the “Heavenly Demon Demi God” drops several mountains worth of flaming meteor rock on the invaders and then goes on a giant flaming skeleton rampage against Bing-ge

... Bing-ge has changed his mind he doesn’t want this Shizun take him back and oh gods the shrieking

How does he shriek so loud? Doesn’t he need to breathe?

... ok so Shizun breathes fire that’s good to know

Whelps time to bravely run away

And then the amassed sects need to figure out how to calm down the rampaging hell beast

The youngest Qing Jing disciple is brought out and told to cry for Shizun

Actually-a-broody-hen!Mads-Jiu whips around and starts fussing over his baby student

Because baby why are you crying stop it tell Shizun who hurt you and he will BURN THEM TO ASH

The last bit I have an idea for involves Mads-Jiu getting yanked though dimensions because Edo Tensei where he instantly twigs to what is going on and pushes the “righteous cultivator” skin to maximum strength

He shoves all the baby ninja behind him and keeps barrier spamming the zombie army - because ew no stay away from the children resentful corpses

Zetsu is included in the zombie army shall not pass smack down

Zombie!Tobirama is appalled because wut? Wasn’t this supposed to be Madara’s zombie? What is happening?

And I dunno something where he “notices” the resentful energy surrounding Danzo because stealing the eyes of the people you murdered is bad karma

So Mads-Jiu does a spirit thing and the ghosts of the Uchiha rips Danzo apart while screaming about his guilt in full view of the entire Village

And then Mads-Jiu goes home because filial little Bingbing came to get him and he’s not enjoying upending the shinobi social order nope not at all whom exactly do you take him for?

... Yes he’s done and ready to go back to his spouses now he’s sure the ninja have all learned better than to raise living corpses now anyway

The end

=/=

[faorism]

needing the au to drop wherein i can commit to writing a historical au,, because since i first watched the db cooper job my mind went straight to OT3! OT3! OT3! (unlike with the van gogh job, since i aint playing with that fucking lieutenant)

one day maybe one dayyyyy i will sit down and i will write the ot3 into that episode's story. so, it'll be the backgrounds for the characters in the flashback (so, stephanie ritter, steve reynolds, and reggie wilkins), but with the necessary personality adjustments (parker, eliot, and hardison respectively). basically, vintage ot3 with some hot as hell aesthetics and secrets and avoiding as much as possible producing copraganda.

so. my thoughts. what i see happening. and this got super long so im throwing this under a cut. and for ease i will call them by their modern day canon names except when making a point.

first, general thoughts about the characters.

and so: steve to eliot. nothing much here on the surface. eliot still volunteers, too much an indoctrinated white man to have been forcibly drafted. so its still one man gone to war. one man come back. eliot would had been noticed early in training for his ability to pick shit up, and they teased at maybe sending him to a special unit. maybe they do, or maybe they don't because they just need to funnel fuckers to the jungle. the vietnam invasion was a terrorist imperialist venture and there's no romanticizing from me about anything done being at all valorous or special or brother-in-arms'y. and eliot commits war crimes under the american stars and stripes instead of just to keep moreau's champaign running. but also maybe moreau is eliot's superior. he certainly would have been rewarded for this ruthlessness. (eliot of course strove to impress moreau because there aint an eliot spencer who wasn't that man's dog at some point, i!!!! dont make the rules). eliot's friend died and eliot's gone off to carry out his wishes and moreau lets him because he Knows eliot is gonna come back. whether its to come back to the same squad, or follow him into deeper spy shit for the military, or to fuck off and go private. then eliot meets parker.

now. stephanie to parker. beth plays normal so well im mad at her, but there's something edgy and strategic about stephanie that i think parker can grab onto. i feel that maybe she was kind of a thief still, but there's more realism to this world so archie wasnt a super secret spy with lasers to practice with, but just a guy with sticky fingers whos a little bored and wants a protege. parker is good really good at what she does, and not having to deal with lasers makes me easy. but she's into scams that are less grifts and more Catch Me If You Can slight of hands. she's always looking for easy money (she was into lifting cars at one point! literally she follows where the crime is). she's doing something in an airport and someone tries to recruit her as a flight attendant because she's got the Look. and yall, flight attendants? that shit was like being a model and an astronaut and a time traveler back then. and according to a teacher i had, who once worked as in the f.a. union, those ladies back in the day were rad and queer and free spirited and runnnnning shit. i think, yes, it's a Job which i think we might resist placing parker into. but! of the jobs, at the time, i really see her rocking it during the time period. (also come on, the opportunities to swindle distracted people of their shit would be endless. they would just think they dropped their stuff in the airport! not that it was stolen.)

finally, reggie to alec. i think hardison will be the hardest to translate. even tho i admittedly listen to a lot of true crime podcasts, i dont know much about fbi life and also definitely don't know about it historically. part of me desperately wants to put him somewhere else even if it does have to stay within the fbi. i might cheat and make him like a Q(uartermaster) to 007/00s like in james bond, and he's like UGH this is horrible god i hate working for the fbi but they will give me funding so...... anyway, here's this totally cool [radio term]. that said, if hardison is stuck in the fbi, why he ends up there is that he is a fucking savant when it comes to research and the man can put together a presentation like no one else. that white man gets all the credit for profiling but it was hardison who goddamn was the google of the microfilm days. reggie felt super square but that might be because he had to deal with mcsweeties db cooper shit day in and day out for years. hardison is more himself. and definitely still a nerd. alec would be into dime fantasy novels and comics and ham radios and oh god he also would be into star trek like the original star trek as it came out and he would be into the zines yes! yessss. omg. also he plays a mean arcade cabinet. but he's mostly well adjusted but lonely. his colleagues dont appreciate him because fbi esp during that time were fucking wilding out and racist as hell aaaaaand im sorry im srry im trying so hard to have fbi hardison make sense but also! acab. ANYWAY.

second, the relationship

i think it would be fun to play with what it means to have parker/eliot start off first and bring in hardison afterwards. (if white collar is your thing, it would be like this canon divergent ot3 fic wherein peter burke is the last to join in.) i feel they would be Super Intense esp since they are carrying this big ass secret. kind of broken and dysfunctional and there's the passion and the commitment, but i think there's also a tenderness that's super hard for them to achieve? and i think there's a way that hardison plays such an important part in who they are and how they are. like, sure i think parker/eliot would have joy but they won't have levity. they would have compassion but they won't have gentleness.

eliot meets hardison after being recruited by nate. i think they get close because while nate and eliot have an interesting and compelling mentorship/friendship, nate is still eliots superior; sometimes its nice to complain about your boss, as hardison will say to eliot to try to make friends. i think hardison and eliot would become legit friends and not just work buddies because they are just not cut out of the same cloth as the rest of their colleagues. they grab beers after work. after hard days, hardison cajoles eliot into going to the arcade. they are friends. real real truly deep best friends, in a way hardison didn't think he could have with a fed and eliot didnt think he would have after his friend died. but also? they are like "buds" who are buds who are desperately tryna to cross any lines because there's a.... tension? an UST between them they dont know what to do with.

parker meets eliot by way of a "lets have my friend for dinner, he's a blast." and immediately immediately hardison is like... wow this woman is beautiful but like, really attracted to her personality. and parker things hardison is kinda dorky but cute dorkie? anyway, they have a puppy love situation growing. and it keeps growing until bam. eliot and parker are like. are we into alec???? fuck we are aren't we.

i think stephanie and steve would never tell reggie (even if somehow they were to be a thing). but parker and eliot? hell yeah they tell hardison. eventually. after a while. sooner than maybe they should. the tension if they should say something is one of the things that build up as UST between them for so long; parker and eliot know they are carrying this huge thing. two huge things. eliot being db cooper and also their massive crush on him.

if i could control myself to stick to a pwp, it would be another christmas. maybe the christmas nine (more?) years down the road. the damn snow grounded hardison's flight back to his nana's, and parker and eliot hear this and invite him over. the egg nog gets flowing and parker eventually is like,, fuck this. and comes onto hardison. and hardison would be like wow wow what but... idk, free love and swinging were In The Thoughts And Minds Of The People. he still checks in with eliot who is like. her body, man; i aint gonna tell her what to do. and for a sec hardison is like, man is this a cuck situation? i guess i can be for it but also...... aint mad if i aint alone. and eliot is so grateful and idk. i just want them all to be happy and having fun and no one to be left out. and yeah i am kinda brushing over a lot of the racial politics which, in a more developed fic rather than a pwp, would definitely need to be brought in; but idk that needs to just be in the bedrock of whatever plot is going into this.

it takes a lot of maneuvering of their lives but they make it work and eventually hardison is a keeper of eliot's secret too.

(apart from the historical aspect, another reason i probably won't actually write this is because i know myself. i would want to do worldbuilding. i would follow eliot and alec to their jobs, but i wouldnt want to write outright copaganda. the grit/realism i would be comfortable with would take a level of research i dont think i can commit to. but if someone wants to take this up or if you figure out a way around this issue, pls do i wont be mad)