#I hope that makes sense and isn't too rambling

[numberonetacostan]

In s1 Bomb says Taco only knows French and some other words and I feel like this could mean a few different things.

She already knew French (somehow) and just used that to her advantage.

Simple lying.

Or she learnt a whole ass new language idk

They never actually talk more about it and if I'm being honest with myself it was probably just a throwaway line but I am allowing myself to be delusional for two reasons.

1. It would be funny

2. Using it for tacomic, the idea of Taco saying something romantic in French but immediately switching up if Mic asked what it meant.

(This is just rambling so if it doesn't make as much sense as I hoped I apologise 😔)

Hi there!!!^^ Welcome, and thank you for sending in an ask!!!! :D Especially one about Taco speaking French!!!!!! I AM THE LORD EMPEROR OF FRENCH SPEAKING TACO.

I HAVE PERSONALLY GOTTEN IT CONFIRMED BY JUSTIN THEMSELF TWICE. ONCE IN DURING A STREAM IN WHICH I ASKED IF MEPAD COULD CHANGE HIS LANGUAGE SETTINGS AND SPEAK FRENCH WITH TACO, WHICH THEY SAID WAS SOMETHING THAT COULD HAPPEN, AND IN A CAMEO I BOUGHT IN WHICH JUSTIN, AS GOO, CONFIRMED THAT TACO HAD "REAL FRENCH-SPEAKING POWER"!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SHE SPEAKS FRENCH GUYS IT'S TRUE IT IS IT IS IT IS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Anyways uh sorry im very passionate about taco speaking french. Mephone just programmed her with it. He watched movies with french and british villains and couldn't pick when he was making his own antagonist so she got both. She's, uh, Brench. Fritish?

Her trying to romance Mic and changing it up when she asks what it means is so very cute!!!!! I am also terrible at socializing like Taco is, and I have an easier time saying things when I'm not using English too!!!! Oooooo, it's so sweet!!! She can say the most poetic stuff in French, but English? She stutters through even one (1) attempt at flirting.

Also surprise surprise I'm putting my Mepad and Taco French speaking propaganda here!!!! I don't think he'd know she speaks it before meeting her, but he'd hear her talking to herself in it and casually change his language settings so he can speak with her!! She'd be startled by it at first because she's never spoken French with anyone else before, but I think it would make her happy!!!! She's already opened up emotionally to Mepad, I think them being able to communicate in a way that no one else can understand would be reassuring for her and even help her to talk more about her feelings. I also think she could ask him, like, how to socialize in French. She isn't sure how to respond to something in conversation? Isn't sure if what she wants to say is rude or not? She can privately ask Mepad in French!!!! hnnnnngh language speaking emotional intimacy my beloved.

[dom-guilfoyle]

Okay so (sorry if you've answered this before, Tumblr isn't turning anything up, but the search function is notorioisly...nonfunctioning) I have a question.

I'm trying not to give many dire spoilers to anyone else new, but what are the 'proper' pronouns for the Queen's child? Do the fae even conceptualise them the same way/does it even matter to them? I noticed that Queen usually uses 'they' for their child, but also just kind of goes with the flow well enough, and uses 'he' sometimes when Guide is using 'he' to refer to him. (And, sidenote, I'm p sure they're always or almost always referred to as they themself too. I can't remember if anyone besides Guide refers to any of the other fae using pronouns and not just titles/nomikers, and Guide assumes Stranger is 'he', but is that correct? Or, again, is there even such a thing as 'correct' when it comes to the fae? Is this something they care about? Or, also, could it be something they purposely don't clarify and prefer the ambiguity, because the less people know for certain, well...the less people know! And the less they have over you! That does seem to be how they operate).

And Beast I'm pretty sure referred to them as 'he' a couple times soon after Guide said what ppl at Mistholme knew him as, but usually defaults back to 'she' still, because that's how he remembers his friend.

I'm just interested to know if there's an answer to this, I suppose, and if it will be brought to a conclusion in the show or purposely left ambiguous. I think either way is interesting, as from my questions above, I've been turning this around a lot.

Also, related: was the whole backstory of the Queen's child, with the pulling away from family and finding a place with Beast instead, and then going back only to basically take what they could (what was theirs) and leave again, stay estranged because of the expectations of them they didn't want, plus added in that Beast literally knew his close friend as a girl only for him to be known as a man later in life... was that Supposed to be a trans allegory at inception, or was that just a happy accident? I feel like it's too much to be accidental, but I thought I'd ask. I love it either way and was really taken in by Beast's arc, and I'm very interested to see how it pans out when (if?) they [Queen's child]

Sorry that was so long lol. I've just been bingeing the show the past few days whilst i was working on things and it's been on my mind a lot!

Hey, thanks for listening and also thinking so much about the show!

I've kept things a little ambiguous with regard to the Fae's concept of gender, because it allows for the conflict between the Queen and The Man to be about more than just one thing. It's about gender, but also parental expectations and finding yourself and whatever else it sparks inside you. The Fae are very different from us in a lot of ways, but also a lot like us in others, and that means the story can resonate with our experiences without being a direct allegory.

I was definitely thinking in terms of gender discovery and transness, but from the Queen's perspective we don't even really know if that's part of it at all for them. I wrote the Fae to have a different concept of gender to us because, well, why wouldn't they? And then I've left it a bit ambiguous because explaining everything about something can make it mundane, and I definitely don't ever want the alternatural to be mundane. In my head, the Queen is The Man's only "Parent", they just decided to have an heir and kind of... manifested one? Because that seems like something a Fairy Queen would do. But that's not really important to the narrative, so, no need to include it.

Pronouns for characters are:

Guide: It/Its

The Queen: They/Them

The Man: Tricky. The people in the Museum use He/Him, because that's what they've known him as this whole time and they've never been corrected. They don't know how The Fae relate to gender and they have bigger problems at this point.

The Queen uses They/Them, because The Man is more than just an individual- they're The Heir, they're not a person they're the future, and all of The Queen's expectations made manifest. Sometimes they've said He in front of the Guide, because the Guide has actually interacted with The Man far more recently than The Queen has, and they're like... going along with that? But they always default back to neutral terms.

The Beast still thinks of The Man as their friend, the person they were when they were both cubs. It's very stuck in the past, desperate for a return, and the complexity of the Fae isn't something it understands. Sometimes it uses He/Him, but it's not really sure what it all means.

Stranger: He/Him is probably fine? I think Stranger probably changes it on a whim to mess with people anyway lol.

[earthtooz]

cw: kaiser. kaiser draws on your skin. gn!reader (as always), unedited lol

before i log off, i present to you all an idea that has plagued me for a considerable amount of time.

imagine doing kaiser's eyeliner.

you don't know how you got here, practice was supposed to be starting in five or so minutes, kaiser is meant to be warming up on the field, you're meant to be checking if all the players were here, yet you both find yourselves in this ridiculous situation.

standing in between his legs as he perches himself on the training ground's bench, you've got a hand on his face as you masterfully wield the red liner in between your fingers. you're a little nervous, admittedly, but you're not letting it show, the quiver of your hand subtle to the outside eye as your eyebrows furrow in concentration subconsciously.

he asked you to do his eyeliner for him- a very intimidating and big ask. especially because this recognisable feature of his (amongst many) is always done meticulously, perfected as part of his daily routine.

so the tremble of your hands and breath is understandable because you don't want to fail and leave a bad impression with him.

you were also being silent because you were impressed by how pigmented this red eyeliner was. where did he get it from? it's really vibrant. maybe you should get one too. flows out very easily too.

however, you were too caught up in your thoughts to realise your proximity. kaiser, on the other hand, was quietly revelling in it as he sits still; the most sensible he's acted in a long time as he soaks up your closeness.

you don't see the small smile of satisfaction that threatens to stretch along his face, resulting directly from this moment of bliss.

"there," you say, finally stepping back to admire your handiwork. you did a pretty good job, even added the under-eye detail that he likes.

reviewing himself in his front camera, kaiser hums in approval before standing up to his full height, shutting off his phone and walking towards you. you hand him the cap.

"good job, pretty. at least i can trust you to do my eyeliner," he mutters, holding his hand out expectantly. you hand him the product, unsuspecting and caught off guard when kaiser suddenly grabs you by the arm.

then, to your horror (and delight), he begins scribbling something on your skin, the pigmented product effortlessly bleeding out to leave his mark behind. when kaiser pulls away, he stares contently at his signature before capping the eyeliner.

"that's the best i've ever written it. you should be honoured."

you then usher him onto the field, basically punching him with each step before scrambling away to find something to erase his handiwork with.

you all can thank @limitlesshq and @kruinka for the birth of whatever this is. @mitsies and all kaiser kissers, this is for u

[doodlejoltik]

grass knot

[~4.5k words, read it here or on Ao3. tagged with Volo and Lance since they appear as prominent characters; Rei-centric]

Why is it that even the thought of confiding in Akari, his closest friend, makes something constrict in his chest, choking out the words?

Rei, caught in the stirrings of a new arc, tries to rise to its call, but trips over the past at every turn.

A full rewrite of that Mysterious Stones chapter where Volo first shows up, from Rei’s POV, plus a bit more. Written mostly before the Arceus Arc began.

(Setting expectations: a lot of this fic is just Rei Thinking About Stuff haha. Love getting into his head! His characterisation is a little bit different/more nuanced compared to the other Rei oneshot I wrote; hopefully you'll still be along for the ride if you've read that one!)

-

“Show me thy bond.” It echoes inside Rei’s skull, down to the very bone, the same as in his earliest memories. He nearly buckles under its weight, but it's a welcome feeling.

After so long without direction, this is a relief. Arceus has finally spoken.

The words fit perfectly with the half-remembered fragments Rei had received some weeks ago in the middle of the night. Why hadn't they been intelligible then? What makes now different? The sync stones ultimate are one factor, of course. Maybe Arceus draws power from them, which is strange to say of a deity, but from what he knows of the Plates, it might not be so far-fetched.

Prince Lear disperses the murmuring crowd; so, the audience all heard it too, not just those on the arena floor. Professor Bellis congratulates Bettie. Cynthia, Lance and Steven whisper among themselves. And his mind still whirls with new theories as they gather together.

What does Arceus want? 

‘Seek out all Pokemon’ had meant completing the Pokedex. At least, that’s what he’d assumed. Now, this time, Arceus likely means for them to showcase bonds with their Pokemon, given the context. But what does that actually entail?

Cynthia’s words cut above everyone else's. “Rei. Was that voice…?”

All eyes are on him. He breathes deeply, steeling himself, as the familiar weight of it settles in. Things are moving, now. 

“Yes. I'm certain. That was —”

“Indeed! That was a message from Arceus!”

His words catch in his throat. Off-balance, suddenly, as all his thoughts fall away, replaced by a swooping feeling he can't quite identify —

He whirls around.

Volo is here.

He takes a few steps back, an involuntary half-stumble, before remembering himself. 

Those flashes of movement he's been seeing, the feeling of being watched, a Togepi, unattended: they’re all now terrifyingly validated. He'd half thought them a product of his overactive mind.

“Excuse-moi, pardon me… but who are you?” Professor Bellis ventures. 

“I'm Volo — a humble merchant who loves history and mythology!” With that, he flashes a winning smile. Rei could laugh at the sheer audacity of it all, but his thoughts are still strewn across the dusty ground, scattered, and they slip from his grasp as he tries to gather them up. Whatever sense of gravity he’d felt upon hearing Arceus’ voice has completely lifted.

“But more importantly!” Volo continues. “When the arena shone brightly, I also heard that voice.” He brings his hand up to point at the air with enthusiastic emphasis, a gesture still so terribly familiar. Rei clenches his fists, feeling the nails dig into his skin. Not really out of anger. More as a reminder.

The last time he’d seen Volo had been. Well. Memorable. But that isn’t the image that smiles back at him now, tripping him up. He's in Gingko uniform again, complete with ridiculous oversized backpack, which Rei had thought discarded, up there on the peak. Apparently not. Had Volo returned later, still seething, to collect his things? The concept is strangely hilarious.

“I wonder… these sync stones ultimate… might they be some sort of test from Arceus? If we could show him that ‘bond’ he desires —”

“Sorry, test? Arceus?” Cynthia interrupts with a frown, holding a hand out. “What makes you say that?”

“Why, it's quite simple. Arceus' presence was summoned by these stones, in this exhibition, and he requests us to further show our bond. What else could he desire?” Volo says, gesturing widely. 

Rei finally pulls himself upright — scrapes his thoughts together into something resembling coherence. The initial shock has drained away, settling into a distant sort of apprehension. He watches silently. Volo’s not really saying anything too unreasonable, but where is this leading? 

There’s so much he doesn’t know. What has Volo been doing, all this time? How long has he been on Pasio? What does he hope to gain, approaching them like this?

He’ll let Volo continue, then. It's an opportunity for some of those questions to be answered.

(And it gives Rei time to think of what to say.)

“Well, put that way, that does make sense,” Steven nods along. “Should we organise for more trainers to try the stones, then?” 

“Oui, I would love to gather more data!” Professor Bellis answers. “However, the stones are still quite volatile. There is progress on this, yes, but for now, I would like to limit their use, capisci?” 

At this, Bettie speaks up. “Yeah, it was weird.” She runs a hand through her Pikachu’s fur, the mouse curled up lazily in her arms. Nobody in Hisui was quite that affectionate with their Pokemon. Certainly not Akari, though she'd grown closer with her own Pikachu over time. As for himself, Decidueye had been standoffish, averse to being carried even as a baby Rowlet. Well, actually — as his distracted mind digs deeper into memory, he recalls — there had been Volo and his Togepi. 

He casts that errant thought away, buries it deep once again. Bettie is still speaking.

“And it was like nothing was there, at first, and Pikachu and I had to concentrate really hard. And then — whoosh! Wow! Overwhelming,” she shifts Pikachu’s weight to one arm to gesture with emphasis, “and all at once.”

“And this is when Arceus spoke,” Lance asks. 

Bettie nods, now subdued. “It was a rush! I think you guys could handle it, but I dunno if everyone could.”

“If I may,” and all attention returns to Volo. “It seems the stones can currently be used by trainers with particularly powerful convictions, and bonds with their Pokemon,” he gestures with a smile to Bettie. She blushes. 

At the casual flattery, Rei can't help the small frown that twists onto his face. It seems innocent enough, but compliments and niceties can so easily mask true intent. 

Especially with Volo.

Volo continues. “Perhaps we might solve this by way of a tournament, of sorts. Allowing Arceus to witness our talent and dedication, with the victor bestowed the honour of using the stones! Of course, the winner of such a competition would have the fortitude necessary to handle such power.”

Well, taking that to its logical end… Volo wants to win, and be granted this ‘honour’ he so conveniently proposed. But why go to all this trouble? The stones appear out in the streets quite often — apparently, found even by preschoolers. Volo should have no trouble obtaining them.

Does he know something they don't?

“Bettie here led the first winning PML team, did she not?” At this, the girl in question smiles Mareepishly. “And that is why she was the one to demonstrate the stones, I presume,” Volo inclines his head towards the Champions.

Informed guess, or something more? He thinks back on half-seen, furtive movements, and wonders. 

“That's right,” Steven confirms. “Bettie is a shining example to us: a leader of the next generation. We decided there was no better choice.” 

“So you suggest we hold another tournament,” Lance says thoughtfully. “Well, there is precedent. Prince Lear,” he turns to the Prince, whom Rei had honestly half forgotten was there. “What do you think?”

Before Lear can reply, Volo reinserts himself into the conversation. “It would be a grand tournament, truly fitting of Pasio's reputation. Why, perhaps, the deity Arceus might even be compelled to descend —”

Ah. So that’s what he intends. “Aren't you getting ahead of yourself there?” Rei interrupts. He means to sound stern, but it comes out sounding more incredulous. Not at the idea itself, but at how brazenly it’s admitted.

“Perhaps,” Volo says with a careless shrug. He doesn’t acknowledge Rei any differently than the others, still maintaining their inadvertently shared ruse. “It's only speculation, of course, but it is exciting to think about!”

“Hmph! I believe I was the one being addressed,” Prince Lear declares, arms crossed. His red shades flash dangerously, eyes hidden under their glint. Directed at him, it's almost like the full glare of an Alpha Pokemon.

Rei’s face flushes with heat to the tips of his ears. Great time he picked to enter the discussion. He quietly ducks his head down; the Prince is in charge, here, after all. He'd rather not test his patience. 

Meanwhile, Volo just smiles, seemingly unfazed. 

There's a part of him that really wants to know how Volo does that. It's just — he's so confident. How can he be so sure that everything will work out in his favour?

“A grand tournament,” Prince Lear ponders, tapping his foot. “And what could be grander than the second Pokemon Masters League?”

“Indeed!” Volo beams. “I'm sure the audience would love to see the clash between a king and a deity, would they not?”

Lear's tapping stills. His guarded stance loosens; he's taken aback. Volo emphasised king, and oh, Lear's official title is Prince. Hm.

There's something more deliberate about it beyond just casual flattery. 

Lear uncrosses his arms and seems at a loss, for a moment, on where to put them before straightening up with his hands on hips. “Is that so?” He laughs. “I like the sound of that!” A pause, unnecessarily dramatic. Nobody breaks the silence, not even Volo. 

The Prince looks around with some satisfaction and continues. “Very well, then. The winning team of the second PML will be granted the honour of using the sync stones ultimate.” He grins, sharply, red shades flashing once again. “Which will include me, of course. Hahahahaha!”

“You have a real gift for making quick decisions!” Volo says cheerfully. The tension breaks. Chuckles arise from the rest of the group, and Rei can only stare in disbelief. That — that has to be mockery, right? But everyone else seems to take it as light teasing, even the quick-tempered Prince himself. 

Against his better judgement, his gaze catches Volo’s. 

He doesn't know what he expects to see: amusement? Satisfaction? Triumph? And there's some of that, but it's a wry, knowing sort of look, like a joke shared only between the two of them. 

Already the others are starting to animatedly discuss between themselves. Bettie makes a teasing comment to Lear, who scoffs. Professor Bellis says something about checking in on the sync stone technology. Cynthia, Lance and Steven form their own little group again, speaking in low tones, and he can't quite follow their discussion. 

It seems like he's the only one who notices Volo quietly slipping away, and he's got half a mind to do the same. 

Would it be incredibly ill-advised to follow him? Probably. But he still has questions. And it’s possible that Volo will let his guard down when they're alone. 

(Even to him, that seems incredibly optimistic. But there’s things between them that he himself would rather only unearth in private. Maybe Volo feels the same way. And even if not, perhaps he'll gloat, or tease playfully, and let on something of use hidden in the thorned barbs.)

It's not like he has much left to contribute here. Tournaments and competitions and organised displays are foreign to him. The Neo Champion Stadium had felt so different from the kind of battles he’s used to… which, in part, could be why he lost. 

He needs to train. If everything rests on the result of this tournament, he has to be ready. 

The group seems to be naturally dispersing, at least — Professor Bellis just excused herself — so he won't be missed. With some quick words, he, too, turns to leave. They can handle this part, and Rei will do his. 

Prince Lear had mentioned a winning team, and Pasio battles are generally three on three, from what he's seen. Who could he ask? There's Akari, of course. And the clan leaders, but it would feel strange to team up with only one and not the other. A little bit too reminiscent of another time. 

His steps carry him nearly to the edge of the arena.

Besides, he's getting ahead of himself. He still has to… well, he should explain everything to them. About Volo.

Even all these months later, it still aches. He had buried it all, hoping to let it rot away, to be free of that thorny mass of contradictory feelings that arose every time he dwelled on it. 

But the longer he waits, the more impossible it seems to explain — to explain not only the events of that fateful day, but also his own, confusing silence on the matter. Though he’s tried to plough the field, turn it all over and start anew, it still lies just beyond the surface, and a single misstep is all it takes to snarl him all over again. Why is it that even the thought of confiding in Akari, his closest friend, makes something constrict in his chest, choking out the words?

(Akari is unquestionably the one person he's closest to. But there was a time when that singular title wasn't so clear cut.)

There’s a sort of tunnel that leads out of the stadium, a long darkened archway that passes under the audience stands. He's about halfway through when he hears footsteps from behind, swift and purposeful strides. 

His breath catches, for a moment. But Volo left first, and the arena had been flat and wide, with no corners to lurk in. Besides, it's too loud. Clearly telegraphed.

Cynthia, maybe? 

He turns. The face that greets Rei is slightly less familiar. “Lance,” he acknowledges the Champion. 

“Rei,” Lance greets in turn, stopping a few paces away. Arms crossed, silhouetted against the light of the arena and framed by the tunnel’s dark, arching walls, his tall figure is — intimidating. 

He can’t help but wonder whether that's deliberate. 

“You left before I could ask,” Lance says, and there's a pause. “As someone who has prior experience with Arceus, what do you think of all this?”

A fair enough question. But the way it's said… sounds a little too carefully worded. Casual, but purposefully so.

What sort of answer does Lance expect? 

“It sounds reasonable enough,” he decides to say. As much as he hates to lend credence to Volo’s proposal, he can't think of anything better. It somehow seems to suit their needs perfectly, which he's sure is no accident. “Back in Hisui, I was told to seek out all Pokemon, so I helped with the Pokedex. In the same way, I guess this could help fulfil Arceus' new request.”

Lance nods along, but his brows furrow. “You sounded more sceptical, earlier,” he points out. 

Ah. Not really his intent, but… “That was about the more…” he casts about for the right word, “speculative part of it. I don't know if it would really call Arceus down, or anything like that.” Though honestly, he doesn't know that it won't.

“What do you think will happen, then?” Lance asks, with clear curiosity, and, well. He doesn't really have a good answer to that. 

“... I don't know,” he admits. “I never actually completed the Pokedex, so I'm not sure what happens after Arceus’ request is fulfilled.” He had been close, but there had still been so many minor tasks that needed finishing, things to busy himself with, to arrange and get in order before he had to face Giratina again. 

He hadn't been ready, yet. Maybe Arceus had grown impatient, and brought him here to confront his problems directly. Maybe it cared. Maybe it didn't. 

(Seeing Giratina with Cynthia had felt a little like he was the punchline of some divine comedy.)

Lance purses his lips and looks off into the distance, out of the stadium, past Rei. He wishes he could read the man’s expressions better; as it is, the set of his brows calls to mind Kamado, and everything else tangled up with it. 

Finally, Lance’s gaze turns directly to Rei once again, and he speaks. “That Volo… you two know each other.” 

It’s not a question, but even then, the expression of unguarded surprise he can’t hold back might be answer enough.

Lance has one hand on his hip, the other, at rest, is framed by the drape of his cape. He looks down at Rei as he states plainly, “His clothes aren’t of modern make, so the logical assumption would be that he’s from Hisui. Cynthia confirmed my suspicion. And, historically, Hisuian communities were few and quite tightly knit. It’s more likely than not.” 

He tries to keep his expression carefully neutral, as logic digs deeper, dangerously close to things unexplainable. And the earth is already recently disturbed, soft, friable. He can’t offer much resistance. “I've seen him around,” he concedes.

“But why did neither of you acknowledge the other?” Lance looks confused; frustrated, even. “Even a passing acquaintance would be notable, with both of you being here in the future.”

And here — this is familiar. The accusations. The questions he can’t answer. But it’s different; it’s not that he doesn’t know the answers. He just can’t seem to put them in an order that would make sense, to anyone else.

(Does he really understand, himself?)

But eyes are on him, and he needs to explain, in whatever unsatisfactory way he can. “Volo and I… it's complicated,” he laughs weakly, tugging at his scarf. “He genuinely does love history and mythology, you know. I guess I wouldn't be that surprised if he was right about Arceus.” All those times they’d pored over ruins together, Volo excitedly babbling on about whatever legend this one related to — there had to have been the seed of something real, something genuine, in that. 

It’s not really an answer. Lance can obviously tell, because he crosses his arms. 

“Is he bad news?” he asks bluntly. 

There’s no twisting his way out of this one.

Some of the panic he’s feeling must bubble up onto his face, because Lance’s expression softens, just a bit. The man sighs. “Look, Rei, I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but us Champions need to have all the relevant information. This tournament, the stones,” he gestures around them, “affect everyone here on Pasio. So I’m sorry about involving myself in your business, but it's necessary. Should we be keeping an eye on Volo?” 

It’s obvious what the correct answer is. And every second he delays responding makes him seem all the more untrustworthy. He questions, a little hysterically, why this of all things is what he stubbornly roots himself for, risking this place he’s made for himself in another unfamiliar land. 

But his jaw works, and all that slips out of his throat, past the thorny tangle, is a “Maybe.” The most ground he can concede. “Volo’s… passionate about Arceus.” Which is perhaps the biggest understatement of both this century and the last. 

There's an expectant pause. He almost leaves it at that, but it seems it's too unfinished a sentiment for Lance. “He wants to be seen by it.”

“The same way you are?” Lance says sharply. Arceus, he picked up on that fast. Rei hopes he leaves it at that. A rivalry fallen apart, twisted into bitterness and jealousy, nothing more.

Nothing world-ending. 

It’s not like he doesn’t trust Cynthia, and by extension the other Champions. It’s just… he can deal with it himself. It’s what he was probably brought here to do, anyway. The thought of someone else turning him over, and finding him lacking — fighting his battles for him — makes him uneasy. 

“Yeah, something like that,” he answers, with a painful swallow. 

Besides, he hopes he can resolve this peacefully. He’d beaten Volo before, even after he’d flipped the rules of battle on their head. And this time Volo can’t upend the script; one good thing about tournaments, he supposes, is that the rules are rigorously upheld. A different sort of battleground.

He wants to laugh at that. Suppositions and wildly optimistic thoughts are his only foundation, and yet it’s enough for him to reject all possibility of outside help.

Then again, if he can’t even bring himself to tell Akari, what chance does he have of breaking that self-imposed silence, here, on less familiar ground?

Lance hums, assessing this. He uncrosses his arms. “If that friend of yours does anything drastic, tell us, alright?” he says. It’s said warmly, but there's something serious to it. An undertone. “Our job is to help out wherever we can, so don’t hesitate to reach out.”

Rei tries for a smile. “Understood.”  

Lance nods, and looks Rei up and down, though it's only a subtle flicker of his eyes. His gaze lingers on the scarf at Rei’s neck, which Rei realises he’s been fidgeting with unconsciously. He lets go with faint embarrassment, feeling caught out. 

The other man sighs. “You can go, you know?” There’s resignation in his voice. Maybe even something apologetic. In that moment, he seems more like Kamado than ever.

Rei doesn’t want to turn his back to him, but he wants to be here even less. So he nods, stiffly, and turns himself around, continuing the dark walk through the tunnel and out the stadium at a steady pace.

He doesn’t run.  

(But his hand hovers by his satchel, where Decidueye's Pokeball rests.)

It’s only when he’s walked for a good while, out into the harsh sunlight, through the town outskirts and to a more forested spot, that the tension drains from him. He sits at the base of a large tree, feeling a little lightheaded.

That was… an interrogation, to put it bluntly. And he can’t really fault Lance for it. To anyone, he's sure, his actions are confusing at best.

Unfortunately, he’s found that he’s less than clear headed when it comes to Volo. He turns over Lance’s final words. That friend of yours. It’s not surprising Lance phrased it that way; everything Rei had said had been carefully woven to lead him to that conclusion.

Except it hadn’t been misdirection, not fully. He does still think of Volo as his friend, despite everything.

He slumps backwards, against the trunk of the tree, feeling the rough bark dig against the base of his skull. 

What is he supposed to do with that?

Apparently, one of the worst days of his life isn’t enough to uproot over a year of growing camaraderie and budding friendship. Too many memories knot together, a stubborn tangle impossible to pick apart. He’s tried not to think about them too hard, but they tighten their hold once again, from where they lay dormant and buried.

Many of them have been forcibly recontextualised. He’s second guessed every helpful gift, every directly admiring word, every coincidental and fortunate appearance, as something deliberate and cultivated. But some of it, it seems, doesn't fit so neatly with that singular goal.

One day, they’d watched Togepi use Metronome for an hour, ostensibly for Rei’s surveying purposes. Important documentation of a seemingly random phenomenon, and all that. In actuality, they laughed the entire time, with no useful or coherent records to speak of, as the results became all the more improbable. 

They’d camped together, those last months, as the search for the Plates got wilder and more exciting. He knows Volo’s favoured way to build a camp-fire, and how he wakes up unreasonably early in the morning, and that he prefers sweet foods over savoury, unlike Rei himself. A hundred mundane familiarities shared, taking root in fallow ground.

Once, Volo had been his only friend in the entire world.

Is it surprising, then, that he can’t lay this friendship to rest so easily?

He wonders what it means, that the hand offered to him at his lowest point was the same one that always meant to drag him back down. And what it means that he still wants to reach for it.

Had any real feelings been sowed there, on Volo’s part? Or was the entire thing a carefully constructed weaving, an intricate field of grass knots laid around Rei, ready to catch him in their snare? 

He can’t quite strangle the hope that something of their friendship still exists, even if neglected and overgrown. And that’s the part that scares him.

He has Akari, and Adaman, and Irida. He has Professor Laventon and the Captain, though they’re far away. Then there’s the Wardens, more friendly faces: Mai, Sabi, Ingo, and all the others; there's Zisu and Pesselle and Beauregard and everyone else in Jubilife. New friends here on Pasio, too. 

He pulls out Decidueye’s Pokeball from his satchel, and rolls it around in his right hand. He has his beloved Starter.

He has friends. He has bonds.

Why can’t that be enough?

The Pokeball he’s holding isn't the original. He'd had to break that well-loved possession in two, and recapture Decidueye in this modern device. It's a distant echo of its predecessor, wooden grooves and clunky iron replaced by smooth metal and near imperceptible seams. The weight of it is all wrong. 

But despite that, it's still his partner, and that's what matters.

(The two broken halves sit in his satchel, too, carried on his person at all times. It's yet another thing he can't bring himself to let go of.)

He sighs, tracing formless shapes in the dirt. His hand finds one of the sparse clumps of grass that grow here, directly under this wide and mighty tree. Deprived of proper sun, it’s a miracle that there’s any at all. 

It seems more and more likely that he’ll end up looking for Volo on his own. To get answers: not only about the stones, and the tournament, and Volo’s intentions with Arceus, but also for his own ends. 

Maybe there’s still something there. A single glimpse of life in this scorched earth between them.

He doesn’t know what he’ll do then.

Where he sits, what little grass there is has grown long and ragged, as their leaves stretch and reach for the sun. He sets Decidueye’s ball down and plucks two long blades. With a few simple loops and twists, they’re deftly woven together into a knot. He considers it, looping it around his fingers; tightens it, pulling on both ends, until he can feel the entire construct threaten to snap from the force. He stops. 

The thing is, no matter if it was never meant to be real, deliberately sowed, intended ultimately for harvest — it’s all the same, to Rei. He wants to keep it alive. He’s hopeful. Naive. Selfish.

For a single, impossible moment, he wonders whether this is what Arceus meant by bonds all along. 

The knot goes in his satchel, where it will turn dry and brittle with time. But kept safe, unbroken, regardless. Maybe his future self will laugh at his sentimentality. Maybe, he won't remember why it’s there. 

Wouldn't that be for the best?

He tucks Decidueye’s ball away, with care, then hauls himself up, both hands braced against the dusty ground. There’s dirt under his fingernails. From under the tree’s darkened canopy, he squints into the afternoon sunlight.

There’s a lot that needs to be done. He needs to train for this tournament, for one. Learn more about modern battling. Pull together a team. With that, ask Akari, and perhaps Adaman or Irida. Confront Volo, somewhere in all of this. 

After that? Only Arceus knows.

One step at a time. 

He finds his footing, around gnarled roots. The grass crunches underfoot. And he steps into the light.

(So maybe I was just snared by the grass knots you laid in my path. But if I wove my own, would you fall for it too?)

[welcometoteyvat]

>mahuika: maori fire deity >olorun: yoruba supreme creator god >kachina: hopi spirits >mualani: hawaiian chieftess >xilonen: aztec goddess of agriculture

>why are you white

[bigcatenthusiast]

Ah so controversial opinion on the Jayvik ending

I don't understand the point of Jayce's "You're never broken" speech. It is heartfelt, it is genuine, but

Viktor has never felt he was broken? One of the very first things he says in S1 is "I simply believed in myself". His storyline in Season 1 revolves around his desperation to help people with what limited time he has, hindered by his disability and illness. He never feels broken or that he is not perfect. He wants to secure his legacy, to improve the world with their inventions, and decided to take an extreme step when it became apparent his body could not keep up any longer. The main source of grief here was how Jayce was becoming more involved in politics, the accidental death of Sky Young, and his own short-sightedness in achieving their goals - "In the pursuit of great, we failed to do good"

What was Jayce's speech all about? It didn't make much sense to me.

[silverview]

charlie & dee & the chain

[moonchild-in-blue]

I haven't really done much art for tumblr (at all) lately, cus life, but! Here's a lil something I've been working on (it's a Xmas gift) 💙

(also peep that lil January calendar painting 👀 i did mini squares for each month for myself, because I need to have a physical one always, and they each have their own colour 🥺)

[littlefankingdom]

Oh my goddesses, I hate Rose Wilson.

Maybe it's just her Future State personality, but I fucking hate her. She has a cop mentality, killing people whoever they are because "they break the law", just following order without question, see herself as superior to everyone else and so can choose to kill them if she wants to... She kills an innocent guy who was mind-controlled, and she doesn't give a fuck. Maybe the politic situation in France is just making that kind of behavior unbearable to me. Maybe it's because it's the anniversary of that French teenager who was killed by the cops for breaking the law. I just cannot stand people like this, I hate her.

And I cannot express the disgust I feel about the fact that Jason is dating her. How the fuck is Jason Todd, a guy who was homeless as a kid and had to steal to survive, dating someone with a cop mentality, "if they didn't want to die, they shouldn't have done the crime"? How the fuck is he dating someone that kills people without a care about who they are, who kills innocents without a care, who proudly tells him she could have kill these guys starting a fight at the bar but didn't? Wouah, we are killing drunk people now, not just rapists and traffickers, I guess. I thought Jason had some morals, but I guess not? Yes, the dialogue implies that he disagrees with her way, but he is still dating her! He is not stopping her! Apart from a little "Rose!", nothing. Who the fuck dates a cold blooded killer with no morals? Mister "I whine because Daddy didn't kill the Joker for me but I'm gonna date someone who care as little as my own killer about others' life, and hang out with her dad, the man who nearly killed my brother. (Because they go on a vacation to her father's and yes, Deathstroke did nearly killed Dick in the past) Yeah, so much better than Batman, am I right?"

[angeart]

Juni kept the wings??? T-T And I was wondering what would happen to him during the eclipse I wanna pick up Juni and take him to another world where he can learn to actually be safe and happy and figure himself out.

-🎀

he kept the wings!! because in his life he's never seen anyone treated with so much gentleness and love as scar treated grian, and in his head this means that if he himself is avian-like, maybe then he could also be deserving of such love!

...though he knows that's not right. not anymore. not after everything.

but wings are also a burden, and he feels like he needs to keep them, if only because grian can't take off his. it's a weak repentance, a frail, silly grasp at a connection he himself broke, but... he doesn't have much else.

he doesn't know who he should be, but the most he ever felt like himself was when he had wings, so. they say.

..... and. as for picking juni up and taking him away. yes. yes please. 🥺 he needs love and safety and space to figure himself out.

(but that's a wish we can't grant </33)

[stormyoceans]

We thought Day is confident gay when in fact he is GAY LOSER who blushes easily around his crush and has doe eyes and would like to be manhandled oh i am in love with the layers of him

YOU AND ME BOTH ANON IT'S HONESTLY RIDICULOUS HOW IN LOVE WITH DAY I AM LIKE DON'T GET ME WRONG OF COURSE I LOVE MORK THE GREENEST OF GREEN FLAGS BUT DAY IS LITERALLY THEE MOST CHARACTER OF ANY SHOW IN TELEVISION HISTORY AND I THINK WE SHOULD TALK MORE ABOUT THAT

im so happy you mentioned all of day's layers because he is such a complex character and i find him so interesting!!!!!! he is confident and quick-witted with his friends, he is vicious and resentful with night, he is timid and accommodating with august, he is a mama's boy but isn't afraid to stand up to her, he is stubborn and hard-working and genuine and charismatic, he is a jock AND a nerd, he can be the most polite boy or the cuntiest man alive. the thing is.. we all have multiple selves, and each of these selves is defined in a web of relationships and has particular attributes, so of course day the son is different from day the brother who is different from day the friend who is different from day the student who is different from day the athlete, but ultimately they're all just day

and what kinda amazes me is that mork, by being an external observer, has been able to see all these sides of day, but he also brought out other ones that belong to mork and mork alone, like day's bashfulness and playfulness. day in love is, in general, surprisingly hesitant and self-conscious (and someone who wants to be pushed down and taken care of, but that's a whole other matter), but what a difference the person who he is in love with makes: august is a wild fire who makes day small, while mork is an hearth fire who makes day shine

[speakergame]

Hello ! About that ask about the Witness, you mentioned the 4 classifications of non-humans? Could we get some lore about that, unless it's spoilery ? I love myself some lore honestly worldbuilding is so great

sure! I've been meaning to add this information to the in-game codex anyway, since it's something the Speaker (and Witness) would know, and because I also love lore and any excuse to talk about it

the four classifications of non-human people (or "supernatural creatures" if you're referring to non-sapient beings) are: Fae, Abyssal, Celestial, and Arcane.

I'll go into more detail under the cut, since this got a little long and I don't want to destroy y'all's dashboards:

Fae are the most common of the four. They almost always have pointed ears, and their magics tend to be elementally-based (earth, fire, water, etc), and most of them have a human-looking form and a not-human-looking form, like Azalea with her tree-like "true" form. Many fae also subclassify as "seelie" or "unseelie" fae, though this is becoming less common in modern generations; seelie fae have powers or forms that represent spring and summer, unseelie represent autumn and winter.

Abyssals are sometimes called "demons", but most of them consider that term derogatory. They almost always have black sclera in their eyes, and often - but not always - have horns. Their magics tend toward shadows and darkness, and are often stronger at night than during the day. Some types of vampire are classified as abyssals as well (the strigoi, for example) though not all of them are.

Celestials are "angels", but they dislike that term just as much as abyssals dislike being called demons. They almost always have glowing eyes, often a single solid color. Wings are also common among celestials (though there are fae and abyssals that have wings too), but not universal. Their powers tend toward light and energy manipulation, as well as things like telekinesis.

Arcane is the "miscellaneous" section, for anyone who doesn't fit in the other three. Most of them look completely human, or were born human before developing powers in some form or another. Shapeshifters, Seers, and anyone who practices magic (witches, mages, etc) fall under the arcane classification, as well as merfolk and vampires (the ones who aren't abyssal, obviously). They're the hardest to classify, and it's unknown how many people there might be that are hiding an arcane heritage or unaware they even have one.

[daz4i]

i literally can't think about life or the future for more than a few seconds without getting so distressed that i shut down. surely this is a good sign for things to come

[arolesbianism]

I wanna take a crack at making some fake screenshot graphics for my Sif Odile duo loopers au but I do not feel confident enough in my ability to mimic isat's art style and I also have a crippling fear of drawing backgrounds

[mobius-m-mobius]

so your tags made me look up the paint trailer and i have no idea what i watched but just bought tickets 😭 you can't be making me fall for owen wilson right now no fucking way 😭😭

Can't I though, anon??? 😉😂

[tvrningout-a]

something about the deals you make with bronwyn is that when they're made as a way to boost her spell power, she doesn't typically gain anything from those deals. she could if she wanted to, but in cases like helena, the person is usually giving up a lot already. bronwyn won't take anything else from them unless they insist.

i don't think i have the energy to get into it in detail, but helena is a dryad who bronwyn freed from her tree; she can travel freely without having to worry about the distance. to accomplish something like this, though, helena had to be willing to give up something big, which... i haven't decided on yet asdf but it could be something like the ability to return home, losing memories of her home, etc. what she gives up doesn't have to be physical so long as it's something of great worth.

helena did insist on giving bronwyn payment, and my initial thought is that she asks helena to be her companion for a few years in return. i might change that, but i kinda like it bc it then makes sense that they grow close and continue travelling together even after the terms of their deal are done.

but that's beside the point tbh! the point is bronwyn tends to be generous with most people. but if you prove to be an icky person by her standards, she'll definitely take what she can bc if you aren't a good person, she's got no qualms!