#i wish the shadows were cooler but who give a shit

[biganimal92]

father's favorite

[abysskeeper]

Trying to figure out some characterization on the latest Tav. Word vomited whatever this is. Idk.

------------------

“I wouldn’t, if I were you.”

Shit.

Astarion froze, the words brushing against the edges of his mind like the caress of a cool breeze against his face. His jaw clenched against the feeling of the bloody parasite wriggling behind his eye and he whipped around, searching for the woman who evaded his senses. He was so, damned sure everyone else had retired for the night, how had he missed her?

But sure enough, as his eyes scoured the camp in search of her, there she was, emerging from the shadows at the very edge of camp, small prayer book in hand. Blazing orange eyes met his, the color the leaves around them would turn in a few months, when the weather grew cooler still and winter approached. A fool would call them beautiful—the wizard had called them striking earlier that day—but Astarion knew better. Those eyes were the color of loss, the last warning before death inevitably claimed its rightful due.

Those eyes were as somber and bitterly determined as the God she prayed to.

Admittedly, Astarion wasn’t sure what to do in this situation. He hadn’t factored in for anyone discovering him before he claimed his victim, only what he would do when said victim inevitably awoke from his bite. She stood too far from him to be able to pivot and strike at her without giving her considerable time to react to him, and he couldn’t just delve for her sister trancing at his feet either. He had no desire to incite the holy magic of any cleric, let alone one devoted to the God who would take the most offense towards his existence.

His options were limited, and though he was loathe to concede to it, his best chance was to react instead of act. Perhaps he could talk some of his way out—no one knew what he was yet and, given his current stance, it would be just as easy to believe he was stealing from Rin as he was about to suck her dry. He could apologize for attempting and make up some excuse about how he needed the money, a sob story would probably work on Vira, and even if it didn’t, it was better than the alternative. And, if she did attack, then at least it would be easier to play the victim.

“Unless, of course, you wish to feel what it is like to have an electrified fist gripping your throat.”

She continued before he could say a word. Vira smiled—the smallest of upturns of the left side of her mouth—and tilted her head, strands of white hair slipping over her shoulder and neck with the movement. “I understand her being a sorcerer makes it seem she is an easy target, but I assure you her size is not an illusion. I can also assure you it is by no means a pleasant experience to startle her.”

Astarion frowned, eyes darting down to the other drow still trancing peacefully by his feet. He had considered Rin’s build when choosing her as his victim but, given everyone else in the camp and their specialties, she still wound up being the safest option in his mind. Perhaps he had misjudged. Perhaps Vira was merely toying with him. Perhaps it was both. He released a small sigh and returned his attention to Vira, realizing his misstep in ever taking his eyes from her in the first place.

Much to his surprise, she hadn’t moved from the edges of camp. It was a small mercy.

It also appeared to be in his best interest to attempt to talk himself out of this situation. He would downplay it considerably, and maybe grovel a bit. “I am quite good at what I do, you know. She wouldn’t have even felt me stealing—”

“Stealing?!” Vira’s eyes narrowed and she shook her head. “I suppose it is, in a sense, but I’ll stop you before you make a fool of yourself. Come, I can grant you what you need.” With that said, she motioned her head towards the woods she had just come from and turned around, receding back into them.

Astarion hesitated, watching as she disappeared into the tree line. Had she just implied…? And, surely if she had, she hadn’t just left her sister to him, right? If she had figured him out, then she wasn’t a fool, but if she had just turned her back on him and left Rin trancing peacefully at his feet then he couldn’t imagine her as anything else.

But no…no, she was still paying attention to him. He could still feel the parasitic connection faintly in his mind. She was watching him, waiting, likely wondering which option he would choose. He could still go for Rin, and Vira was far enough away now that he could likely get enough blood from the sorcerer to have a quick burst of energy to fend off any attacks. If Vira was bluffing and Dezerin didn’t immediately awaken and attempt to kill him for the intrusion, in any case. If Vira was speaking the truth, then the correct option was obvious.

Yet, the “correct” option did not feel much safer. If Vira had truly figured him out and what he needed, then she was either as much of a kind-hearted fool as he already believed, an over-confident idiot who thought she could handle herself alone against a starving spawn in the woods, or a woman with a plan. And what would it make him, exactly, if he followed the invitation of a cleric of Kelemvor into the woods actually expecting her to keep her word about offering him what he needed?

Desperate.

He would claim intrigue won out in the end. There were a lot of questions he held regarding her decisions, and if he followed her, perhaps she would even consider it appropriate to answer some. That was, assuming she did keep her word and did not immediately try to kill him, but it was a risk he was willing to take. He had no reason to believe she was lying about Rin, and if he were forced to consider that true, then he had no reason to believe she was lying about her word.

Still, Astarion stepped away from the resting party members quietly, and followed after Vira cautiously. He walked through the woods carefully, hand hovering over one of his daggers as his eyes darted around him, half-expecting the bladed end of a sword or a burst of holy magic to come flying at his head. When he moved further into the woods, he finally found her sitting calmly on the trunk of a fallen tree, flipping through her prayer book.

He was struck frozen again as her orange eyes turned from the pages to him, and her faint smile returned. “I see you chose the correct option,” Vira remarked.

“I had no idea there was an incorrect option.” The words came from him easily, even as his mind remained hypervigilant as ever. He watched her, waiting for even the slightest change in expression or twitch in her body to suggest she was on the verge of striking. “Are you testing me, Tav?”

Her smile fell at the use of her improper nickname. She had insisted half a dozen times not to be called by the first part of her given name already. He had figured correctly it was a decent way to throw her off, even if just slightly.

“It is not so much a test as a matter of your safety,” she answered, “Though I suppose my intent was not entirely without curious examination. I was interested to know who you chose; I am glad you chose properly.”

“Given the current atmosphere, you hardly feel like the proper choice, darling,” he quipped.

Her smile returned, both sides of her lips lifting as her eyes narrowed at him. He recognized that expression for what it was, he had worn it and smoothed it out a thousand times in the past two-hundred years.

Predator.

“Are you nervous, Astarion?” Vira asked simply.

“Nervous around you? You flatter yourself,” Astarion laughed. He knew better than to give an inch towards someone like her, which also meant he knew better than to concede the truth before she forced it from him. “Rightly cautious, however, would be accurate. You did just invite me into the woods alone after catching me attempting to steal from—”

“Ah yes. ‘Stealing,’” she cut him off again, just as she had with the tadpole. She tilted her head, “Is that how you refer to it?”

He frowned and placed a hand on his hip, indignant. “I haven’t the faintest what you’re otherwise trying to imply.”

“It’s just not the terminology I thought vampires used these days,” she shrugged easily. “I thought you still referred to it as feeding.”

She was bold to outright say it, he’d give her that. Still, his mouth went slack in well-practiced offense. “What in the Nine Hells—”

“Astarion,” she deadpanned, stopping him before he could even begin his rant. Her eyes all but verbally asked if they were really going to go down this road. “You aren’t exactly subtle. Between the red eyes, the pale skin, and the bite wounds on your neck you’ve done nothing to conceal, it is rather obvious,” Vira said, lifting a finger to point towards his neck. “To your credit, you are better with your fangs. You hide them well when speaking, but they’re not invisible.”

He deflated some, arms going slack at his sides while the remainder of his counterargument left him. He already determined he wouldn’t—couldn’t—deny it if she called him on it properly, and of course she did exactly that. The only thing he could get a read on and potentially control was how exactly she intended to respond to the revelation. She was surprisingly calm—far too calm about his predicament for him to trust her with the truth.

“That aside, everyone in the clergy has the innate ability to detect any undead in a certain radius around them,” she added and smirked, “It is, quite frankly, impossible for me to not notice you, and has been since we first met.”

“How charming that I’ve had your attention from the start, darling,” Astarion retorted. Slowly, his hand inched towards the dagger on his belt as he kept all of his senses focused on her. “And what, exactly, do you intend to do with that information?” he asked carefully.

Her eyes flickered to his hand and then back up to meet his gaze. “Probably less than I should, but also exactly as I said,” Vira answered. “You need blood, do you not?”

“As every vampire does,” Astarion said. He was certainly not letting her in on how dire his situation was. “And you are just…offering yourself?” he asked, unable to prevent the derisive snort he let out.

Vira shrugged again, looking down at herself and then back to him. “I suppose I am, yes,” she agreed.

He shook his head in disbelief. She was a bold one indeed. “Do you take me for a fool, Tavira?” he asked, nearly hissing. “Why would I trust you? A Kelemvorite cleric, of all things?”

“You shouldn’t,” she agreed again with a nod. “But I haven’t attacked you yet. And I am the best option for what you need now,” she shrugged. When he made no move towards her, she sighed and held out her arm towards him. “Consider it a peace offering,” she said with her small smile, “I have noticed how carefully you tread around me, and I’m sure you have noticed how on edge I am around you. This is a show of good faith, I won’t harm you. I am trusting you not to harm me, nor take anyone else from camp.”

Astarion eyed her outstretched arm. Her dusky skin glowed in the patches of moonlight filtering in through the trees, but he was barely able to focus on anything else other than the faint sound and miniscule flutter of her pulse in her wrist. She was absolutely correct in her observations, but he could still feel trepidation pumping in his veins. This was not a normal reaction towards his kind, especially not from someone of her clergy.

“Isn’t your church dedicated to hunting and eradicating my kind?” he asked, red eyes flicking back up to meet hers. “Is that not one of your core tenets?”

“It could be worse, I could be Lathanderian,” Vira joked, a wry smirk crossing her face. As quickly as it appeared, her smile fell, and she glanced away, staring out into the dark woods. “It is, I suppose, but in truth, I am not keen on waging wars with allies. I…have had enough of that for a lifetime.”

She said it softly, more as though she were talking to the darkness around them than she was to him. It felt as though that was an admittance he should not have heard, but when she returned her gaze to him, her orange eyes were momentarily weighted with a sort of melancholy. She blinked and it was gone, her gaze settling back into her usual, solemn calm.

“I made my decision a few nights ago,” Vira added, “Lord Death has not yet abandoned me for it, so I suspect that it is fine.”

She was being genuine about this. Astarion wasn’t sure why she was willing, but as his anxiety settled and he eyed her arm again, he decided it didn’t really matter. He was not one to turn his nose up at an opportunity, and he wouldn’t deny she was a kind-hearted fool for granting him this one. Perhaps that was all there was to it, and if it was truly as simple as that, perhaps he could push for more.

His eyes traveled from her wrist up her arm and to the exposed part of her collarbone. His gaze settled for a moment on her neck, watching the stronger pulse of her heartbeat with thinly veiled desire, before he met her eyes. “If that is what you decided, I would not decline. However, your neck would be far more suitable and far quicker for both of us. It would harm you less—”

Vira’s snort cut him off. “I am probably being far kinder than I should, but I am not a fool, Astarion,” she remarked.

His eyes narrowed. “I thought this was a sign of trust,” he retorted.

“It is, and I have reason to believe you would not take more than necessary if you are contained within the proper boundaries,” Vira explained, “But I have no reason to believe you would not drain me dry if I did not maintain those boundaries.”

She looked over him for a moment before sighing, the hand at her side moving to grip at the hem of her shirt. “Just as you have reason to believe I will hold up my end of the offer,” she continued and lifted her shirt some to reveal the wooden body of a stake tucked into the waistband of her pants, “But no reason to believe I would not stake you if you moved closer than I liked.”

Ah, mutual assurance, he understood that well enough and her point was well taken. He probably should have been concerned she was only now revealing she had a stake on her person, but if it weren’t for the fact she was denying him—and denying him correctly—Astarion would have smirked. Perhaps she had more guile than he initially credited her with. She was still offering at least, and he still needed to feed. These weren’t the worst terms he had operated under by far.

“Very well,” Astarion nodded in agreement.

He finally walked over to her and stopped in front of her outstretched hand. He took her wrist into his palm and raised it towards his mouth. Even without it being his preferred method, the clearer sound of her pulse pounding in her wrist and the faintest smell of her blood pumping beneath her skin had him salivating. To her credit, and to his surprise, her heartbeat remained steady, even as he lowered his mouth to her skin and pierced his fangs into her vein.

And if he happened to bite harder than necessary, if he happened to move his fangs to roll her vein and dig them deeper than he needed just to prove a point that the wrist hurt more than the neck, Vira made no movement to show any discomfort. Her gaze remained fixated on him, steady, calm orange eyes watching him with the slightest hint of curiosity. And in truth, any lingering pettiness he felt dissipated the moment the sweet tang of her blood hit his tongue.

[asklesbianonceler]

for the character ask meme—Rykard! I’m always very curious to hear people’s takes on him.

I do love Rykard! Maybe one of my favorite war criminals in Elden Ring and also one of my favorite characters to be unserious about.

Favorite thing: I love that, despite being one of the easiest characters to confidently call evil, and becoming that willingly, he still has a heart for his family. Expecting Tannith to leave him and seemingly being understanding if that were to happen, offering her what he felt was a kindness to ease her suffering when he became the serpent, that she refused. And still being close to Ranni and trusted enough to be privvy to the night of black knives. I genuinely think he's fascinating all around even tho he is an evil freak. I'm always fascinated by a character who takes research to an absolutely vile route as well, and knowing he was in the Realm of Shadow for those reasons makes him even cooler to me.

Also his little legs.

Least favorite:

That I needed to respec to use the sword meant to make his fight easy. I thought for some reason I was the only person who couldn't do the easy mechanic.

Wish he didn't torture albinaurics, they've been through enough shit, but his character really is "guy who does torture" so 🤷🏻‍♀️

Brotp:

Rykard and Ghiza. Me and my wife do a bit where they're two fucked up dudes trying to pull at the club.

OTP:

I love that Tannith is a monsterfucker. I love them. But I think most Rykard ships are good. We know he can pull. He was a horn dog.

NOTP:

Guys I'm trying to have a notp. I have them for other Elden Ring characters I promise. Are there Rykard rarepairs I haven't seen? Show me.

Headcanon:

I like to think he has a nice relationship with Rya even though it is not textually supported. I'm in love with EmmaWard's art of them.

Unpopular opinion:

is it unpopular to say Rykard lays eggs? He does. It's the truth.

Quote:

So he only has the two... But his last words being "No one will hold me captive" is genuinely a good summary of what being a blasphemer means to him as well as the lore, where it is just being free of the ruling belief system and unrestrained by its laws. Giving himself to the serpent was the most powerful form of freedom he could find from the erdtree. Similar to Ranni shedding her flesh to unbind herself from the golden order and greater will.

Song:

Please 😭 I can't come up with this shit on the fly. Pre-Snake/ Young Rykard I feel like we need some sleezy shit. Can I say there's probably something by Electric Six or Viagra Boys that works?

Favorite pic:

more like the reveal of it but when he first turns and you see his slightly less defined face waking up for the first time in the cutscene. That shit is good.

[felice-jaganshi]

Strawberry Scented Love

Radiodust Strawberry Pimp AU

Chapter 5 - Good Girl

TW: Mentions of Past Suicide

~One week later, three nights before the grand opening~

 

Velvet smiled, laying on the couch of the A/V's tower, happily drawing away. “Fuck yes, this is the best idea to come out of that disgusting porn studio in decades! We should have added you to the Vee's forever ago! The fuck did Vox do to turn you away before?” She was coming up with outfits for the performers based on the notes of what their songs were going to be.

“Ugh, don't bring up that old shit Vel!” Vox groaned, lounging across the arms of his own chair. “Why can't I broadcast it again?” He was pouting at Alastor, who sat cross legged in his own chair with a cup of coffee and the newspaper.

“Because the selling point is you can only see it in person. If they could buy a recording, it diminishes the value of the product. The product being the experience, not the performers, don't give me that look or I'll rip your good eye from your head you silly picture box.”

“Don't threaten me with a good time…” Vox huffed and crossed his arms, pouting at Alastor. 

“To answer your question, Velvette, he had asked me to be his romantic partner, and I'm not interested in him like that. So he stole my idea of combining all the media demons into one super power. The A/V's were originally my idea. Though he wanted to call us the V/A's of course. As ridiculous as that sounds.”

“Oh right, because putting your name first is soooo much cooler!” Vox rolled his eyes, then one of Alastor's tentacles slapped the back of his screen that was hanging off the arm of the couch. “Agh! Fuck you!”

“Hm, you wish you could.”

 

Later that day, halfway across the city, a broadcast played on a tv in front of a Voxtech store. “Breaking news sinners! Continuing last week's report on the new porn studio, Strawberry Productions, we now know they will be holding burlesque shows at the new Jazz club every Saturday night! Tickets are available now for pre-order and selling out fast! Trust us with your entertainment!”

A moth demon in a trench coat and fedora growled at the tv as he listened to the broadcast. He threw a brick, breaking one of the screens, before walking off with a fresh grin, and a plan…

 ~~~~~~~~

There was a knock on Alastor's office door, “Come in.” He was at his desk writing away. It was the middle of the night.

Anna entered the room and looked around. Alastor's coat was missing from his shoulders, draped over Angel like a blanket as he slept comfortably on Al's couch again. He'd had a nightmare about Valentino, and Alastor had offered him his company. Angel had fallen asleep quickly to the strawberry scented fluff.

“Miss Anna? Darling, what are you doing up so late?” He smiled softly at her.

“Oh, um… I was hoping, if you weren't too busy, Sir, that you could watch my routine and tell me what you think? I… I think I've got something really special, but…” She wrapped her arms around her stomach, clearly nervous. She was wearing workout shorts and a sports bra, and was soaked with sweat.

“Very well, it's clear to me you've been working hard on this even after hours. I can spare a few minutes to give my thoughts.” He rose from his chair and followed her out of the room. His Shadow stayed behind to lock the door and coo over Angel. Keeping his word to keep him company. 

 

Anna took to the stage, posing on the ground for a side profile view, one leg bent and she did a little hair flip of her bob cut as the music began. “The dress is Chanel, the shoes YSL. The bag is Dior, Agent Provocateur.” She got up and kicked on of her feet up dramatically, adding a shimmy to her hips and she headed towards the pole. “My address today, L.A. by the way. Above Sunset Strip, the hills all the way.” She wrapped one leg around it before leaning away, doing “heart hands” over her chest before pulling herself back towards the pole and lowering her leg, turning her back to him and climbing the pole. She was blushing and smiling the whole time, just having fun. 

She held out her hands, leaning backwards to look at him upside down, “My rings are by Webster, it makes their heads twirl.” She spun her way back down the pole. “They all say Darling, what did you do for those pearls?” She snapped back upright, “What?!” She put a hand in front of her mouth before pouting, “I am a good girl!”

At the end of her song she stood on the stage breathing hard. “W-well?”

Alastor slowly clapped, “A lovely dance darling, far less sexual than everyone else's. Though I do wonder if you'll get many clients with a performance like that…”

She looked down at her feet, the hand still on the pole going white knuckled with how hard she was gripping it, “Do… Do I have to still take clients? Can't I just dance?” 

“Hm? Of course you can just dance. I won't force you to sleep with anyone.” He tilted his head to the side. “You didn't choose this vocation, did you?”

She took a deep breath, but it came out stuttered, “N-no… I just wanted to dance. I don't… I don't like people touching me. I just wanted to be a dancer.” She was about to cry, her knees were shaking as she tried to hold herself together. It seemed… off to Alastor. 

 

“Darling… How long have you been in hell?”

“Five years…” Her voice was soft, but the room was silent and empty, so it echoed like a bomb.

“And… how old-”

“Don't!” She cut him off with an aggressive shout before gasping and looking up in fear, “S-sorry, I'm sorry sir! I- I didn't mean to- to-.” She was shaking all over now and Alastor's expression became dark. She was young then. Far too young for the depravity Valentino put her through.

He took to the stage, summoning a fluffy towel to his hand before slowly covering her completely from the shoulders down. He then pulled his hands away, understanding the desire to not be touched.

“Darling. It's alright. I don't wish to harm you… I understand I asked a rather rude question.” He smiled softly, his expression full of sympathy and pity.

“May I ask one more?”

She pulled the towel tightly around herself as she looked at his kneeling form, “What is it?”

“Well you see, I noticed some… similarities between us. So I thought to ask… if you had a rather unpleasant father?” He was choosing his words carefully, something he prided himself on, given his chosen career path. Both the radio one, and the serial killing.

 

“Well, I put a bullet in his head. So yeah, I'd say so.” She was pouting again, but with a quivering lip as she tried to make the tears stop. She was trying so hard to act calm and mature. The harder she tried, the more obvious to Alastor it was that she wasn't an adult when she died.

“How did you die, darling?” He kept his tone soft and friendly, but his eyes held a sorrow to them.

“My… my aunt… she was a good person. She tried to stop me from killing him, she didn't want me to go to jail. She got in the way of the first shot. I didn't mean to kill her, I was aiming for him!” She broke down, crying hard and curling into a ball. “I couldn't take it! I didn't want to go to jail, so I killed myself!” 

“I see… I'm sorry you didn't feel you had any other choice, my darling… you shouldn't have had to go through all that. I murdered my father as well, twice actually. If you'd like, I can hunt him down for you, as a gift. No strings attached.” He held out a hand for her. 

She looked at it, then back up at him, her eyes held mistrust in them. “Why are you so nice? Do you find me hot or something?”

“Of course not, I'm not attracted to women at all. It seems I've taken to viewing you like a daughter is all. So I wish to protect you.”

“Oh… so you're gay?” Her expression softened, while his became more complicated. 

“Not quite. Genuinely, I've never felt that kind of attraction towards anyone.”

“But what about Angel? You two are pretty close.” She tilted her head and her little bunny nose twitched in curiosity. 

 

“Ah, that… is an interesting situation. Can you keep a secret?” He asked softly. 

She nodded, and held out her pinky, “Promise.” He smiled and wrapped her pinky in his.

“Well, you see… Angel is a rare and strange exception for me. I genuinely love him, which isn't something I've felt for anyone other than my mother. And I'm still coming to terms with the feeling.”

“Oh.. okay… can I hug you?” That threw him for a loop! He hadn't expected her to ask that after saying she didn't like being touched! Did that make him a special exception? Like how Rosie and Angel were for him?

“You said you see me like a daughter, and well, I like the idea of having a dad that doesn't suck.” 

He wordlessly held open his arms and she got up, hugging him with her arms around his neck. He hugged her back, arms around her torso. “I never hoped to be a good father, given my only example of one was a horrible monster… but I suppose I could repurpose what I learned from my mother if that doesn't sound too strange for you.”

She nodded and rest her chin on his shoulder, “I don't see a problem with that. Gender roles on childcare are weird.”

 

Alastor chuckled and pet her head with one hand, “Well, you should go rest in your dressing room. It's far too late for you to be up, and it wouldn't be safe for a young lady to travel the streets alone.” He stood, carrying her as he went to put her in her room.

“Hm, okay… oh, should I still call you Sir in front of everyone, or can I call you Papa?”

“Ah… let's keep that private for now. I'm worried the others may get jealous if they learn you're getting special treatment. And… I'm not sure if I enjoy being called parental terms yet.”

She hummed at his honest discomfort and fell asleep in his arms.

[athenasbloodyspear]

Don’t Make Me Beg Now Baby

CHAPTER ONE: EDGE OF DARKNESS

Hello fellow Greta Van Freaks. This is my very first Greta fic! I hope you enjoy.

MASTERLIST

Note: This fic contains mature themes, discussions of past non-con (no members of GVF involved) and drug use. Minors DNI. 18+ only and please take care of yourselves. (See Ao3 for full tag list)

You can also read this fic on Ao3 if you prefer!

Jake Kiszka x Original Female Character

Picture this: The boys are in Northern Michigan to write the new album and they meet a wild young woman who works at a local record store who has a rough history with rock bands.

She doesn’t want to fall into the same traps she fell into before. He doesn’t want to hurt her.

The rest of them just want them to figure their shit out.

Note: While this fic is based on the members of Greta Van Fleet, I obviously do not know them personally (lol) and nearly 99% of this is a fever dream I decided to write down. Some tid bits are based on things said in interviews/photos/songs but please do not come for my neck if you dislike my portrayals as this is a STORY that I have entirely made up.

This will be a slow burn, overly dramatic, cliché fest of me missing my Mitten State and wishing more than anything I could move back home. Their music makes me homesick and for that I’ll never forgive them. ;)

Chapter Under the Cut

CHAPTER ONE: EDGE OF DARKNESS

The tiny bell on the door to “The Edge” clanked as Jake pushed his way in, followed by Josh, Sam and Danny. The afternoon sun streamed through the slats in the windows at a harsh angle, illuminating the swirling dust. The boys all immediately took a deep breath. They all loved the smell of this place. A mix of dusty old vinyl's, incense and weed. 

The Edge was the shop owned by an old friend, Levi, who had been a longtime family friend of the Kiszka’s. The boys had made the near three hour drive to the shop whenever they had a spare weekend in their younger years. They bought Levi out of his guitar strings and drumsticks and always looked through the boxes of vinyl's hoping to find treasures. Levi sold an eclectic mix of music equipment, records, books, home goods and comically horrific coffee. 

The Edge is where they had each bought their very first instruments, had their first beers and even smoked their first joint. It was a special place for them. 

The old wood floors creaked with every step, the wood walls were covered with old articles from Rolling Stone, photos Levi had taken and autographs from the artists who had cycled through the place over the years. There were stacks upon stacks of vinyl's. Shelves of old autobiographies and music theory books. There were speakers stacked from floor to ceiling, and the whole right side of the store was jam packed with basses and guitars. The back corner had a few keyboards and a drum set, but plenty of catalogues to pick even more instruments from. There were cases of drumsticks and guitar picks and strings. The middle of the store had tables full of incense, candles and interesting home goods. There were tables where local artists sold jewelry, art pieces and furniture. It was full to the brim, most shelves rising way up to the ceiling. Most needed a ladder to reach the top. The basement had a sound studio with even more equipment set up to be used to record, or to test out. 

Levi had inherited the place from his father, who had built up quite a legendary roster of friends over his years. The shop was just off Front Street on the main drag of Traverse City. Levi’s father had made a name for himself as a great host to bands looking to escape to northern Michigan to hole up in cabins and write albums. Levi continued the tradition and took it a step further by buying the space next door and turning it into a club with live music on the weekends. 

If you were lucky, you could catch some super huge bands playing for only about 100 people in the dark side room of The Edge. 

“You bastards finally made it!” Levi called out as he came sauntering out of the back room. Levi looked the exact same as the last time the boys had seen him. Tanned skin from his days paddle boarding and hiking along the Lake Michigan shore, sandy blonde hair that was brighter in the summer, perpetual 5-o-clock shadow because he just couldn’t be bothered to shave, shell necklace around his neck, light wash jeans low on his hips with the same old cowboy boots he’d been wearing since the boys were 12. 

“Is that grey hair I see Levi?” Josh leaned forward with an exaggerated squint. Levi laughed, snagging Josh’s head to give him a noogie. 

“I may be older than you punks by a few years, but I’m not greying yet.” Levi released Josh from his headlock and gave him a shove. 

“I’d say 37 is more than a few years older than us, grandpa.” Sam snarked. 

“You’re makin me regret extending my hospitality, kid.” 

Jake felt himself relax fully for the first time in a really long time. It was just like old times. Exactly what the boys needed. 

“Welcome back dudes. I’m surprised I’m still cool enough for you Rockstar types.” Levi crossed his legs and leaned back against the front counter. 

“We’ll never be too cool for The Edge. This place will always be way cooler than we could ever be.” Danny piped up, walking forward to wrap Levi in a hug. 

“It’s been too long man.” Levi commented as he smacked Danny on the back. 

“We know.” Sam said “Way too fuckin long.” He hugged Levi next. Josh and Jake followed up with hugs next. The room was heavy with a tinge of melancholy. Old friends who had missed each other finally reunited. 

“Well, have you guys been to the house yet?” Levi stepped around the counter and started pouring four cups of the famous nasty coffee. 

“Yeah we dropped our bags off before we headed into town.” Danny spoke up. 

“Isn’t it sweet?” Levi asked enthusiastically. 

“It’s wicked man. Thanks so much for getting that set up for us.” Josh grinned as he snagged a cup off the counter. 

The house was a mid century modern cabin right on the east bay shore. It came equipped with a huge garage studio, front deck and a dock out into the bay. Levi had bought the house in foreclosure and along with help from a bunch of locals (in exchange for beer of course) they turned the house into a perfect getaway for any artists looking to come take a break up north. The place had five bedrooms and three bathrooms with a giant living room with overstuffed couches and velvet chairs. The walls were covered in art and the shelves were full to bursting with plants. It was a kaleidoscope of colors and textures,  with mix matched rugs and lamps. It was Levi’s pride and joy. 

“I’m so glad you guys like it.” Levi smiled even bigger as he passed coffees to the rest of the boys. “Once you’re a little more settled, feel free to send me a list of equipment you want me to set up downstairs and you can start coming in whenever to work. But also, I think you should probably take a week or two off first. You all look about two seconds away from collapsing.” 

“Yeah we’re pretty fuckin beat dude. But we’ll send you a list ASAP.” Jake said, taking a burning sip of the coffee. It singed his nerve endings and he couldn’t have been happier about it. 

Levi opened his mouth to speak again, when a voice filtered through the window to the loft above the store. 

“Yo Levi!” the person shouted “Can you please get off your fuckin ass and pick music to play? I know Wednesdays are your day to pick but if you take forever I’m just gonna put on whatever I want and you can suck it.”

All four boys' heads snapped up to the window to the loft, but whoever was up there couldn’t be seen. All they could see was that the loft had clearly gotten a makeover. What used to be an upper level where Levi stored surplus supplies now looked like it had a plush velvet couch, lava lamps and plants in it. 

“Alright alright! I’ll get on it.” Levi called back up, shaking his head and chuckling to himself as he walked toward the central sound system behind the counter to scroll through Spotify playlists. 

“Who the fuck is that and what have you done to the loft?” Josh asked, hopping up to sit on the counter. 

“That would be the very best thing that’s ever fallen into my lap. A.k.a my new store and venue manager Maven. She moved back to the area after living in Hollywood for a few years managing bands and she completely changed my life. We finally have consistent stock, a longstanding line up at the club and I have had the time to start photography again. Truly a godsend, if not occasionally a pain in my ass. She turned the loft into a breakroom of sorts.  There’s a couch and table up there now. She practically lives up there sometimes.” 

“Damn she must be some woman if she finally got you to get your shit together with that club.” Sammy piped up. 

“She’s hellfire, I’ll tell yah that.” Levi chuckled, finally hitting play on a playlist. The first bars of Surfin USA by the Beach Boys came on the surround system and matching groans came out of Jake downstairs and Maven upstairs. 

“Not this shit again!” Maven yells. Jake chuckled to himself. Hellfire indeed. 

“It’s my day to pick so suck it!” Levi called back before faux stage whispering to the boys “I mostly just play this to piss her off.”

Levi clapped his hands together once “Well boys, It’s close enough to five o'clock and I owe you a beer. Let’s head over to Little Fleet for some grub and beers and we can catch up.” 

Josh grimaced as he sucked down the last bit of his coffee before lobbing the empty cup into the trash at the end of the counter. “You still make shit coffee Levi.” 

“It’s the one thing I wouldn’t let Maven fix.” Levi said with a grin as all five men exited out the back door. 

                                                           ~0~

The boys took a week to relax, as per Levi’s request. They spent the days hiking the shore, kayaking and drinking beer around the fire. It had been way too long since they’d done this. The release of The Battle at Garden’s Gate had been exhilarating and the fans' response had been everything they’d hoped for. People seemed to love the album and they were all so proud. But with press interviews and touring, they hadn’t gotten more than a day or two to relax at a time. And they certainly hadn’t gotten a chance to get back to their favorite old haunts in years. 

They stopped by the store almost every morning for a cup of coffee strong enough to jumpstart their hearts. Sometimes Levi joined them on their escapades, and sometimes he stayed behind to help out at the store. The boys spent a few afternoons sifting through albums and strumming on some of Levi’s vintage guitars. 

Mostly they caught up on each other's lives. The boys recounted their more personal lives that happened outside the coverage of the album and Levi talked about the past few years of his life in Traverse City. Levi told them all about Maven and how she was practically his little sister. They laughed. They drank. They had a blast. 

The boys noticed Levi was a little on edge occasionally, typically when they heard someone shuffling upstairs or equipment moving around in the backroom of the shop. They assumed it was Maven but weren’t sure, since they had yet to see her in the flesh. A week from their arrival they were all sitting in lawn chairs in the alley behind the store, smoking cigs and drinking their coffee when Sam finally asked. 

“So, why haven’t we met your precious Maven yet? Hiding her from us or something?” 

Levi shifted a bit in his chair. “Um..” he coughed out a laugh. “I am actually. Yes. But it’s the other way around, I’m hiding you from her.” 

“Afraid she’ll fan-girl or something?” Josh commented as he ashed his cigarette.  

“In… a sense.” Levi coughed. “But in quite the opposite way you’re imagining.” 

“She’s a fan then?” Sammy piped up.

“She loves your music. A lot.” Levi sniffed and coughed again. “It’s a real safe haven for her. When she’s having a bad day I catch her upstairs laying on the floor smoking a J with sound cancelling headphones blasting your albums as loud as she can.” 

“Exactly how it’s meant to be enjoyed. With a joint in hand.” Jake chimes in.  

“Yeah..” Levi toes the asphalt a bit with his boots, but doesn’t continue.

“Soooo” Sammy drawls “Why can’t we meet her? We’re no stranger to super fans. I’m sure she’s cool.” 

“Um, well. It’s a bit complicated.” Levi heaves a sigh before flicking his cigarette butt into the coffee canister at the center of their little circle. “I suppose I can trust you guys. You’re friends. Do you remember the huge lawsuit that the band Undercover Heart went through last year? The one about the um” He coughs again, “Rape of one of their staff members by the lead singer Ryan?” 

“Yes. That shit was horrific man.” Danny spoke up. “I read all the details I could. They kept the poor girl's identity private but goddamn I felt so bad for her. She was a badass for filing that suit though.” 

“Yeah. She was.” Levi breathed. “So, this is strictly off record and if you repeat this to anyone I will skin you all alive, famous rock stars be damned.” 

“Jesus Levi.” Jake said. 

“It was her.” Levi choked out. “Maven. That’s why she ran back from Hollywood and ended up here. That dude messed her up and she just… she struggles with meeting famous bands now. You know how many people cycle through this joint writing stuff. She just… has a really fuckin hard time with it sometimes. Particularly bands she likes. I think it’s because once you meet someone, and in her case, discover how much of a monster they can be, their music isn’t… safe anymore.” 

“Fuck.” Jake said, flicking his cigarette into the canister. 

“Well I feel terrible for joking about her being a fangirl.” Josh mutters. 

“She just genuinely loves you guys a lot. I never really told her I was an old friend because I didn’t want her to be worried about y’all stopping by. I just know that if she knows you’re here she’ll take off and avoid coming by the shop as much as she can and not only do I need her here, but I think she needs the safety of the shop too. I didn’t want to wreck it.” Levi sighs again. “I know she’ll find out you’re here eventually, it’s inevitable. I just was a coward and didn’t want to break the news to her.” 

“She was a pretty well known band manager wasn’t she?” Danny asks. “She like… completely made Undercover Heart what it was. Before they hired her they were slated to be a one hit wonder but she hauled them into relevancy basically by her will alone.” 

“Yeah. She basically built that man's career for him. She gave him everything, and he took everything from her. If I ever see the man I’m liable to get my ass thrown in prison.” Levi mutters.

“I’ll help.” Danny says immediately. 

All five sit in silence for a few minutes, smoking the last of their cigarettes. When they’d all finished, they stood and stretched to head back inside the shop. 

“So yeah. Anyway, If you see her that’s fine, just… well now you have context for… her.” Levi says as he yanks open the door. 

A few steps into the back hallway, Levi suddenly halts, causing all four boys to nearly bash into each other. The front door to the shop had crashed open and there were footsteps stomping across the store toward the front desk. 

“Listen Levi,” Maven’s tense voice carried down the back hall. “I know Wednesdays are usually your day for music but I’m having an absolute shit fucking day so I’m playing Greta all day and there’s absolutely nothing you can fucking do about it, kapeesh?” 

The very opening chords of Edge of Darkness scratch through the speakers after she finishes her sentence and the boys all exchange a slightly amused look, grins spread on all of their faces. 

“Kapeesh.” Levi calls out to her. He spins and silently nods to the boys to head toward the back door. The boys attempt to be as quiet as they can as they creep toward the door. 

“Also, Levi?” Maven calls again. Everyone halts in their tracks. “You said there was a band coming in soon. Are they here yet? Do you need me to set up the backroom?” 

“Uh, yeah they’re here.” Levi squeaks. All five men share nervous looks. “They’re uh… up at the house.” He cringes at his lie. “I’m getting an equipment list from them today and then you can get started. 

“Cool cool.” Maven calls back. “Do you think I’ll like their stuff?” 

“Uh. Yeah.” Levi grins then. “I think you will.” 

“Wicked.” Maven calls back. 

All five men repress giggles as they skedaddle out the back door and into the alley. 

                                                        ~0~

The next morning the boys wake up to a group text from Levi. 

COME BY THE SHOP ASAP. COME IN BACK DOOR. HEAD DOWN THE STAIRS TO THE BOOTH. BE AS QUIET AS YOU CAN. 

A weird request, but they did as they were told. They all piled into the SUV they had rented and headed to the shop. Danny peeled open the back door as quietly as he could, and Sammy opened the door to the stairs. They tiptoed down and through the door at the end of the stairs that opened into the booth of a sound studio. Levi sat in front of all the mixing boards with a cup of coffee to his lips. He glanced over at them and softly said “coffees on the table.” 

“Why the weird text?” Jake asked. 

“Because of that.” Levi responded softly, pointing through the dark glass into the soundstage. 

The sound stage was littered with mismatched rugs, and a few milk crates that doubled as tables. There was a gorgeous seafoam green drum set toward the back wall and stands full of various guitars and basses. Along the left wall was a piano and a Mellotron set up exactly to the specifications Sam sent over. However, with all these beautiful instruments to look at that would normally catch their eye, it was the woman sitting on stool in the center, cradling a dark purple Fender guitar that made Jake stop in his tracks. 

Maven, Jake had to guess that’s who it was, was wearing checkered distressed pants, with a ripped up old band t-shirt cropped at her ribs, revealing a sliver of the rounded part of her stomach. Over top she was wearing an orange leopard print cardigan that ran down to her thighs. Around her neck was a series of long necklaces, and her wrists were adorned with interlacing leather bands. 

She was plucking out a melody with her eyes closed, rocking back and forth on the stool. Jake had seen countless numbers of people playing the guitar before. On the road, in the studio, studying old masters on YouTube. There was nothing overly special about the way she was sitting or playing, but he felt a little bit like he couldn’t breathe. 

“She never fuckin plays anymore man.” Levi whispered. “It felt like magic hearing music coming out of the basement this morning. I just felt like you should see it.” 

The melody she was playing was sad. Haunting is a better way to put it, and Jake couldn’t look away. Not even when Sammy placed a cup of burning hot coffee into his hands. She was moving her head along with her playing, the strands of her dark messy hair shaking back and forth. The group watched in silence as she played out the riff a few times, Levi cranked the volume of the mics in the space and they could hear her humming softly. 

“She has a strong presence.” Josh murmured. 

Maven suddenly stopped. Everyone froze as she heaved a sigh and stood from the stool to put the guitar back on it’s rack. 

“You in there Levi?” Maven said then. The boys still didn’t move a muscle. Jake’s head was spinning, having finally seen the face that went with the voice he’d heard in the loft for a week. She was beautiful. He couldn’t even really put his finger on why, but he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Even seeing her through the thick dark glass of the studio. 

Levi hit the button to the mic in the booth and responded “Yah.” He paused before adding. “Sounded good.” 

Maven snorted in a self-deprecating way and said “Thanks.” 

Levi hit the mic button again and said “You should play more.”

“Don’t push it Levi.” Maven snapped back. Levi released the button to his mic and let out a heavy sigh. “Can you check some levels on the lines for me? I think I have everything pretty good but I want to make sure before they get here today.” 

“Sure.” Levi replied. 

Maven pulled the amp cord out of the Fender she had been playing on and plugged it into another guitar, one more similar to the guitars that Jake regularly used while they wrote. 

“Are we looking for a punk or a rock-y sound?” Maven asked. 

“Um.” Levi hesitated. “Rock. Their sound is like…” He tossed a small smile over his shoulder at the boys. “Like Greta’s actually.” 

“Dope. I hope they’re not just copying the boys. They’ve got a mellotron in here and everything.” The boys smiled. She pounded out a few chords on the guitar. “Good?” 

Levi looked over at Jake for confirmation. Jake, who still had not taken his eyes off Maven, nodded. 

“Yeah, that should be good for raw sound. They can play with stuff too. They’re a pretty well educated bunch.” Levi called back.

“Thank god.” Maven snorted. “Not like that indie punk bunch you booked last month who needed me to do fucking all their sound mixing for them.” 

“Maven, I don’t think they kept asking you down here because they need help with their sound.” 

Maven just rolled her eyes at that.  

They repeated the process with each instrument, Levi silently asking for confirmation from the respective Greta member until they were sure the sound lines were all functioning properly. 

“Great work kid.” Levi called into the studio. 

“Ew don’t call me kid. I’m a 27 year old woman.” Maven called back. 

Levi chuckled. “You’re a kid to me.” 

“Whatever.” Maven muttered. “I’m gonna go take a walk along the beach. Smoke a little. Text me if they need me.” 

“Will do.” Levi called back. The boys all tensed, looking for places to hide, or to run up the stairs and back into the alley. Luckily, Maven took the back door out of the studio and up another hallway instead.

“Well boys, it’s all you.” Levi said. “Text if you need anything.” 

Sam piped up and said “Yeah actually, can you pick my brother’s jaw up off the floor?” 

“Jake see pretty lady play guitar and Jake brain break.” Josh teased. 

“You guys suck.” Jake grumbled. 

Levi cackled. “I thought you’d like her.”  

                                                        ~0~

Maven walked along the coast of the bay and absentmindedly smoked a joint. It was an overcast and drizzly day which meant there was no one around, which she preferred anyway. She was feeling on edge. The drizzle was very slowly building a small sheen of water on her arms and hair, but she didn’t mind. The cool water and gentle breeze combination was perfect. 

Maven sat her butt down in the sand and stared out at the waves. She normally wore headphones on her walks, her world was a near constant stream of music, but she had opted for silence today. 

Levi was being weird. He was edgy around her all week, sending her out every morning for tasks and disappearing without saying where he was going around 4:30 every day. She had come to the conclusion that whatever band was in town this week was a pretty big name. Or big enough that he was nervous about her being around them. She sighed. She hated when he tiptoed around her. Maven didn’t blame him. When she first started working at the shop she had had a couple pretty bad PTSD episodes that had scared the shit out of him. She owed him everything for staying with her, talking her down and making sure she was fed and had water when she got into one of her states. 

Levi was her best friend, to put it mildly. He cared for her, kept her safe and in return she busted her ass at his store making sure they had the best products, the best shows and that their artist getaway was something that people would go back and tell their friends about. She loved Levi like an older brother, and he cared for her like his little sister. She would forever be grateful to whatever power in the universe made her stumble into The Edge two years ago. 

She had been high out of her mind, as she had been most days after she came running back to Michigan with her tail between  her legs, and Levi had been struggling with an amp in the shop. She had walked in, spotted his struggle and didn’t even say a word to him, just walked over and fixed the wiring so that it was functional again. Levi had looked up from where he sat on the floor and said “You don’t happen to need a job do you?” 

The rest was essentially history. It only took two months of seeing him every single day, and him not letting her sour moods go by unnoticed, for her to spill her guts over some bourbon one night. About Ryan and Undercover Heart and how badly the whole situation fucked her up. How after she’d recorded her testimony she’d boarded the next flight to Grand Rapids and hightailed it up north. She came crash landing into Traverse City because she’d always loved it as a kid, and figured it would be a great place to start over. The small town she’d grown up in had too many people who knew her. 

He was extra careful with bands for a while. Never letting her be alone in a room with too many male band members, and carefully vetting everyone who came through. Eventually she told him off about treating her like a porcelain doll and he backed down a bit, giving her free reign over lots of the equipment set ups and giving her plenty of hours in the shop by herself. She was happy to do so, so Levi could focus on fixing up the artist house and starting his photography again. 

But he was still very gentle with her sometimes, and she’d always love him for it even when it pissed her the fuck off. 

Once she’d smoked the joint down to the roach, she tucked the end into her pocket. It was sacrilegious to litter near the lake. It was too precious to be fucked with. She meandered back toward the shop. Her plan was to grab her bag and head back to let her Pitbull, Stacy, out for a walk and pee. The girl had been cooped up all morning and Maven felt bad. 

She threw her whole body against the front door, as the latch often stuck, and the loud sound of the chimes clanged in the empty space. She rolled her eyes. Of course Levi left the shop unattended and unlocked. It was Traverse City, no one was gonna rob them, but what if someone wanted to buy something? 

She was humming softly to herself as she made her way around the edge of the counter and plopped down on the stool by the register. She whipped out her phone to ask Levi where he was. She had the message halfway typed when the door behind her, the one that led to the staff restroom, popped open. 

“You know, crime is especially low in this town but that doesn’t mean someone wouldn’t come in here and try to steal your precious coffee maker.” She tossed over her shoulder. 

“Oh.” Was all that came back. It was decidedly not Levi’s voice. Maven spun back quickly. 

“Sorry I…” But that’s as far as she got. She was suddenly face to face with Jake Kizska and all thoughts quickly left her brain. 

They both stared at each other for a long moment. Maven couldn’t quite figure out why he looked just as shocked to see her as she was to see him. He also almost looked afraid for some reason that Maven couldn’t figure out.

He was dressed in an outfit she’d seen him wear plenty of times. A black button up, half unbuttoned, loose fitting light wash jeans and a pair of well worn boots. His wrists were full of bracelets and his hair was longer than the last time she’d seen footage of their concerts, well past his collarbones at this point. 

“Hi.” Jake finally broke the silence. “I’m Jake.” He reached out his hand for a handshake. 

“I know.” Maven replied, and then coughed. Why did you say that you freak? 

Suddenly the front door bell chimed again, and Maven whipped her head to see Levi coming in the front door. She stood abruptly from her stool, skirted around Jake’s outstretched hand, and out from behind the counter. She scooped up her leather satchel on her way. 

She headed straight at Levi. He glanced over his shoulder and saw an apologetic Jake looking forlorn and lowering his hand back to his side. 

“Oh hey Maven-” 

“Hey dumbass, don’t leave the store unattended again. I’m going home to check on Stacy. Probably won’t be back for the rest of the day.” Maven spit as she stormed past him toward the front door. 

“Maven wait-” 

But she was already outside, the hinges bringing the heavy wood crashing back into the frame. The chime of the bells rang through the space. 

“Sorry.” Jake muttered. 

“Not your fault. I knew she’d find out eventually. Right now she’s probably just pissed I didn’t tell her. Which she has every right to be.” Levi sighed. 

After a few more beats of silence Jake spoke again. “Who’s Stacy?” 

Levi huffed a laugh. “That would be her Pitbull.” 

“Oh.” Jake said again. He felt crazy because his brain couldn’t come up with anything else to say. She was prettier up close. She smelled like the Lake and weed and sandalwood. He really wished she’d taken his hand. He shook his head trying to find his brain in it somewhere. 

The other three boys came clambering up the stairs and into the store. They all looked between Levi, who was still standing in the middle of the shop, and Jake behind the counter. 

“Are you two playing freeze tag or something?” Sam quipped. 

“Jake met Maven.” Levi responded. The boys' heads whipped toward Jake. 

“And… I’m guessing it… went well?” Danny questioned.

Levi finally walked back toward the counter. “She left for the day. This is on me. I should have told her y’all were here.” He snagged his keys from below the counter and walked toward the front door to lock up. “I’m closing early, boys. Let’s go get a beer.” 

“Kowabunga baby.” Josh said with a grin.  

                                                     ~0~

Maven sat curled up on her velvet couch, Stacy was her little spoon. There was incense burning, a bottle of wine open on the side table and a lit joint in the ashtray. She had changed into a giant t-shirt and boxer shorts. The soft sounds of John Denver playing off her record player. 

However, none of these things were easing her mind. 

She was pissed, mostly. At herself. At Levi. She was pissed he didn’t tell her they were coming. She was pissed that he felt he couldn’t tell her. She was pissed that she had acted like a freak in front of Jake. 

The anxiety was an endless pit in her stomach. She couldn’t go back there tomorrow. She couldn’t see any of those people. Not when she felt like this. 

She whipped out her phone and quickly shot a message to Levi, before chugging her whole glass of red wine and snagging the joint out of the ashtray. 

                                                        ~0~

Levi’s phone dinged on the table where all of the guys sat drinking beers and chatting. Levi glanced at it and quickly picked it up when he saw her name. 

“It’s Maven.” He said. 

“What did she say?” Jake asked, sitting up a bit in his chair. 

“Fuck.” Levi said, tossing his phone on the table, still unlocked. 

All four boys leaned in to read the screen. 

CASHING IN ALL MY VACATION DAYS. I’LL BE OUT FOR TWO WEEKS. 

“Fuck indeed.” Josh said, pounding back the rest of his beer.

[nachosforfree]

hrrn hrrn fanfiction me gusta

ao3 link

The two players the young pigman had approached were so nice to him. They cooed at him, one crouching down to hand him a gold ingot, the other remarked something in a strange language. They placed a boat in front of him, and he curiously got in. The players grinned and started pushing the boat. He looked around, wondering where he was being taken. They soon arrived at a large, purple portal.

The players were speaking in the strange language, and one held up a name tag. The pigman looked down at his gold ingot, rubbing it and smiling at the shiny surface. He jumped as the name tag was pinned to the back of his shirt, giving a small squeal that the players seem to delight in. They pushed his boat through the portal and he shut his eyes at how bright the purple was.

When he tried to open them, he was only further pained by something large and bright far into the sky. It was brighter than lava, and hurt his eyes badly. He rubbed at them and squealed again. He heard the players utter things to each other, before they began to push the boat again.

He used the gold ingot to shield his eyes, and the players cooed again, finding it to be the cutest thing despite the fact he was in pain.

Soon they pushed him through a forest, the large trees shielding him further. He looked around with curiosity, the trees here were nothing like the ones in the nether. They were brown in the trunk and their leaves were green, the ones in his home were red or blue.

One player groaned out a complaint, and the other scolded them. He wished he could understand them, but whatever language they spoke wasn’t at all what the pigmen back home did.

Soon, he was pushed to a large archway, a small city beyond it. One player cheered, pulling their arms away from the boat to rub their tired muscles. They spoke to the other, before dashing off into the city. They soon returned, a man now following.

He stared in awe at the man, who had black, glistening wings that folded behind his back. His brow was shadowed by a striped hat on his head, but his blue eyes seemed to glow even so. The player who led him here gestured at the young pigman, speaking quickly. The man nodded and walked over.

He took hold of the pigman’s collar, and remarked something, presumably about the name they’d given him.

He said something else to the players and they both smiled before saluting him and running off into the city together. The young pigman was lifted out of the boat and held in the man’s arms, and the man smiled at him. He was carried into the city, glancing over the man’s shoulders at the forest and boat behind them.

As the man walked, the pigman couldn’t decide where to put his eyes. Everything was so new and interesting. There were so many different mobs and types of players. Some players even looked like mobs. Some looked like him, pigmen, but they also spoke in the strange language. They would catch his eye and smile brightly.

He felt safe here. It was strange.

They entered a building, and the man put the pigman on his own hooves. He crouched down to be at eye level with him, the kind smile still on his face.

He spoke perfectly in the pigman’s language, “Hello there, Techno-Blade.”

The pigman tilted his head, “Technoblade?”

“That’s the name those players gave you, I hope you like it. You can always change it if you’d like.”

The piglin looked at the floor for a moment, contemplating the name. It seemed much cooler than the one his parents had given him. The thought of his parents made a spike of sadness go through his heart. Yeah, a new name sounded good.

“It’s cool.”

The man laughed, and stuck out his hand, “I’m Philza. Philza Minecraft.”

Technoblade wrapped his small hand around Philza’s, shaking it.

Philza stood up again and a player approached them, speaking in the language from before. Phil cleared his throat before responding, motioning to Technoblade. The player nodded and smiled down at him, reaching out their hand for him to take. He did, and they led him to a small room filled with twisting vines and warped fungus. There was a blue bed in the corner.

They said something before patting his head and leaving the room, shutting the door behind him. He stood still in front of the door, not exactly sure what to do next. He turned and walked over to the bed, sitting on the edge of it. It was big, big like the one he’d had in his home.

He missed it. He missed his big house, and his family, and the small crown he had to wear when his parents had guests over, and the plastic sword he would swing around and get scolded for hitting the house workers with. Before he knew it, tears were falling down his face, and he sniffled, trying to wipe them away. Everything had been okay until the people living under his parents had gotten angry, storming their house and cornering them.

His sniffles turned to loud sobs as the images of his parents lying bloodied burned his mind. Blood for the Blood God, the people had chanted, some raising their swords at Techno, ready to finish him off and leave the entire family dead. He screamed and ran faster than he had ever run before, dodging past other pigmen’s legs. Some of them smelled of slowly rotting flesh, and the scent mixed with blood made him gag.

The thought of it now made him gag again. He lurched forwards and emptied his stomach onto the floor, hiccuping and sobbing as he retched.

“Oh shit.” He heard from the door.

He tried to apologize through gasps but couldn’t get the words out.

Words were shouted down the hall and then there was a shadow over him, arms reaching out to try and grab him. He screamed and threw himself back against the corner. The shadow over him cursed and stepped back.

“It’s okay, Technoblade, it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Someone else entered the room, holding something in their hands, they knelt down near where Techno had vomited and began to clean it up. They didn’t talk.

The first person reached out again, slower this time. Techno could barely breathe. He slashed his claws at their arm and they flinched. Blood dripped down from where he’d scratched, and that only filled his mind with more panic.

Blood.

Blood.

Blood.

Blood for the God.

For the Blood God.

Blood for the Blood God.

The phrase repeated itself over and over in his mind, drowning out any other thoughts he could have, slashing and clawing at his brain. His head throbbed, he felt like he would throw up again.

The person backed away, giving up on physically consoling him.

“Technoblade, look at me.”

He could barely hear the words over the chanting, but he forced himself to keep his eyes open, his red ones meeting glowing blue ones.

“Breathe.”

He listened, gasping a few times before trying to force his breaths to settle into something calmer. It was barely an improvement, still certainly not getting a good, stable amount of air in, but it was progress.

“Good, good, keep breathing. It’s okay. You’re safe.”

Safe, that’s what he had felt when being brought here. He remembered safety. It felt so far away right now. Safety was in the arms of people larger than him, in smiles and head-pats and hugs that squeezed his bones. The thought of being touched was sickening right now, but he desperately craved it.

The person who had cleaned up his mess quietly stood and exited the room, not wanting to cause the young pigman any more distress by staying.

Soon, Techno’s mind cleared enough to realize that the person standing before him was Philza. He felt more tears fill his eyes, and he stuttered out an “I’m sorry”.

“It’s okay. Are you okay if I come closer?”

He nodded, and Phil gently sat down on the edge of the bed, still keeping his distance a little. His arm was still bleeding, and Techno tried desperately to keep his eyes away from the sight.

“What happened?”

“I- I just, I was…” Techno hiccuped, bringing his hands up to rub at his eyes. “My mom and dad are dead! They died and I didn’t save them at all!”

“Oh…” Phil muttered, a look of concern in his shaded eyes. “I’m so sorry to hear that, but Technoblade, I doubt that it was your job to save them. Sometimes things just...happen. Young boys like you shouldn’t be held responsible.”

Techno sniffled, looking up at the man through his hands, “But…”

Phil scooted closer, “No buts about it. Whatever happened, it isn’t your fault.”

Techno dropped his hands into his lap, looking away silently.

They sat in silence for a few heavy moments, before Phil spoke, “Do you want to go get some water? You probably need it right now.”

“Water?”

Phil paused, realizing that due to his nether origins, techno had likely never seen water before.

“It’s a type of drink, to keep you from getting thirsty.”

“Oh… okay.”

Phil stood and held out his hand for the pigman to take. He stared at it for a few seconds before grabbing it and hopping off of the bed.

They walked through the building together, Techno seeing that there were many other rooms like his, some also having pigmen in them.

“Why are there so many pigmen here?”

“There’s a rot going around the nether,” Phil explained, “We want to get enough pigmen away from it as possible. It’s dangerous.”

Techno shuddered, remembering the smell of the rotting pigmen who’d attacked his family, “Oh…”

Phil stopped at a door, and opened it to reveal a large kitchen. He pulled Techno inside and gestured to a bench for him to sit on. As Techno sat, Phil picked up a glass bottle and filled it with water from a cauldron. He handed it to Techno and filled another one up for himself.

Techno took a sip and hummed, feeling the liquid cool his now aching throat. He took a big breath before chugging the rest of the bottle, hearing Phil laugh as he did.

“Yeah, that’s about what I expected,” The man chuckled.

“It’s really good.”

Phil nodded and sipped his own, “What do you all drink in the nether, anyway?”

“Mostly milk from hoglins.” Techno answered, watching Phil grimace at the idea.

“Oh.”

Techno glanced back and forth between his empty bottle and Philza’s face.

“You can get more, if you want. We’ve got plenty.”

Techno awkwardly sunk into himself for a moment, before standing up, walking over to the cauldron and dipping his bottle into it. He filled it to the top and drank.

He sat back down on the bench, drooping his head back and closing his eyes, tired from all the crying and panicking he’d done.

He was lifted into Phil’s arms, but didn’t resist this time, and was carried off to his room. Phil laid him in his bed.

“I’ll wake you for supper later,” The man promised softly as he turned and exited the room.

Techno watched him close the door before burying himself under the blankets and shutting his eyes, swallowing and thinking about the nice tastelessness of the water as he drifted off.

[remember-to-be-gentle]

what about reader summoning a demon in desperation after losing their job but they summon the wrong one? (Enji? Madara? Dabi? Miruko? Up to u it could be any1)

I made a header for this fic because it kept getting buried in my drafts also this fic is for you demon tail fuckers.

Subject: BNHA, Demon!Dabi aka Touya Todoroki

Title: How Much Does a Pound of Flesh Cost? (NSFW, fem reader)

Trigger Warning: Murder, demon summoning, workplace harassment, non con, cannibalism, loss of virginity/bad women’s anatomy, tail penetration, blood, crying, reader is in pain multiple times

You couldn’t take it anymore. The harassment, the taunting, the rumors. HR didn’t help and God knew if your lazy as hell boss was going to so much as glance in the direction of your problems. So you’d had to turn to other means. 

It was a last resort, you’d told yourself that over and over again, only to be used if there was no other option. You couldn’t leave the job, it paid too well and no where would hire someone who quit after just three months on the job. Wiping tears out of your eyes, you drew the last parts of the upside pentagram on your hardwood floors, the chalk coming off in puffy chunks. 

The upside down pentagram was ugly, no lines straight or even, but it should work, after all, summoning a demon didn’t require artistic talent, just desire. You grabbed the demon summoning book you’d gotten off Amazon and flipped to the page you’d bookmarked with sticky tabs and dried tears. In broken Latin and probably the worst accent ever, you read the words you’d only spoken in your fantasies and closed your eyes. 

There was power in them, you could tell, though you weren’t sure exactly how much power would come from them. And just as quickly as the power had built, it crashed. Terrified your eyes shot open, fear gripping your heart. Had you failed? Did you really fail in your final attempt to save yourself?

And then you saw it.

Him.

The demon in the circle. 

He smirked at you from where he laid in the chalk, hair so dark red it was black, eyes blue as the hottest part of the flame, skin either charred in patches or pale and smooth, staples keeping it all together. Two bull-like horns grew from his head and a long devil’s tail whipped about behind him. “Hey, doll,” he said, “what can I do you for?”

You’d prepared yourself for this. Demons were tricky with their words and quick to act, it was best to find out what they wanted before you told them why they were summoned. “Tell me what I have to pay first.”

“Doll,” he groaned, his body rising like a rag doll. His head flopped forward, those burning blue eyes zeroing in on you, “I can’t bill you if you don’t tell me what you want.”

Shit, maybe you didn’t have the edge you thought you did. You swallowed and said, “I want... I want to make my coworkers suffer like they made me suffer. I want them to hurt—on the inside! I don’t want to see them bleed out or anything...” 

The demon made a rumbling noise, your apartment shaking with him, picture frames rattling and furniture shaking. “You wish for them experience the same pain you did, pain that’s on the inside...” He drifted closer to you, an electric aura of malice surrounding him, “And you don’t want to see them bleed. Tricky, tricky.” His tail whipped again. “I think I would like my price to be...” He stopped right in front of you and smiled wide, showing off sharp canines built for tearing flesh, “My price will be your mucous.” 

You blinked. “My mucous?”

He whipped his tail again, the tip of it suddenly right at your nose. “If you agree to the terms then eat of my flesh and your will shall become mine.” 

“Wait,” your mind was steal reeling from his price and now he wanted you bite his tail off? The book hadn’t said anything about this. 

“Every second you hesitate,” the demon growled, “is another second of your torment. Eat and be fulfilled.” 

“Fine, okay.” He really wasn’t giving you time to think about this. You opened your mouth and he thrust in his tail, hard, the tip making it halfway down your throat, choking you for as heat crowded your face. For several swollen seconds you stayed there choking on his tail before instinct had you slamming your teeth down. 

The tail snapped apart easily, the taste of pig skin a ghost on your tongue as the tail dropped down your esophagus and into your stomach. The weight of your deal hung heavily in your belly. 

Heat erupted from your stomach, the taste of smoke overpowering your senses, burning your nose until you collapsed on the floor gasping for breath. Tears spilled over down your cheeks, carrying with it the sensation of burning, as if you’d been consumed in hellfire. The weight of the demon’s tail vanished. 

When you finally caught your breath, you saw the demon was gone, leaving no trace behind except for the chalk circle that had been reshaped to read D̦̠̝̻̱̦̮̲̫̅̃́͂̈́͢͝͞Ȧ̸̧̫̠̦̬̞͛̽͐͆͜͝B̵̝̼̗̠̺̳̓̈͌͊̔͊́̀͞I̵͎͔͔͍̫͛̊̏͘͜͠.

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With no idea when the demon would come back for his payment, you were left with no choice but to go to work. Your stomach twisted in terrorized knots. You didn’t want to confront them, look them in the eye and know that their hatred wouldn’t vanish without demonic intervention, but you’d used all your sick days and your rent wouldn’t pay itself. 

The building was empty, which wasn’t unusual this early in the morning, though it concerned you the security guards weren’t in their places. You got into the elevator and took a deep breath. Alright, 

You slowly entered the office and noticed first the silence. No fingers clacking keyboards. No rising bubbles from the water cooler. No idle chatter. No one seated in their cubicle. Nothing. Not even security making their rounds. 

As you walked through the maze of cubicles, a terrible stench invaded your nostrils, making your stomach twist. It was coming from the board room. You slowly made your way over, bile lapping at the back of your throat with each step closer, nausea swelling in your skull until you were dizzy. The carpet had claw marks coming from all over the office, as if something had been dragged away. Some cubicle walls were smashed or broken. You kept walking toward the smell. 

And then you saw it. 

Inside the glass meeting room, surrounding the large wooden table, were all your coworkers. Not a single one of them so much as twitched, their skin was purple and blotchy, nearly black in some spots. Internal bleeding, you recognized immediately, they’d either been beaten so bad their organs ruptured or something inside them had been torn them apart. Either way you needed to get out of—

“Hey doll,” Dabi the demon slithered out from the shadows, his voice making the room rumble like he had in your house, “like what I’ve done with the place?”

You stared at him in horror. “You... you did this?”

“I did,” he floated toward the table, newly regrown tail whipping behind him, “and it was fun, too. Its been a while since I’ve been asked to kill without leaving a trace. You’re a surprisingly naughty girl.” 

“No! I didn’t want you to kill them! I wanted them to hurt like I did—”

“Doll.” His voice terrorized you and forced you still, a demonic force so dark and ugly that your nearly vomitted. “You asked me to hurt them like they hurt you. You understand I can’t make them feel anything that isn’t...” He ran a blue fingernail over one of your coworkers darkened faces, “physical.” He wrapped his tail around their throat, shaking their head back and forth. “So I did what you asked, I made them hurt without letting them bleed out. All the bleeding is internal, where it’s supposed to be, and just like you requested.”

“No, no, you should have said something if that was the case! I didn’t want anyone to die!” 

“But then you wouldn’t have taken my deal,” he pouted, releasing your coworker to approach you, still floating, “and then I wouldn’t have gotten paid. Besides, didn’t they hurt you so badly you wanted to die? You summoned a demon to hurt them after all, and even agreed to pay my price.” 

His payment that’s right it was... mucous. “Why do you want mucous, anyway?”

He ran a hand down your nose and then hooked his finger into your nostril, forcing you to look up at him. Sharp pain erupted in your skin but the deadly look in his eye made you keep quiet. “Did you think this is what I wanted? Oh no, you poor silly, little thing. I don’t know a soul would have use for your disgusting boogers.” His tail whipped forward and slid into your pants, ungraciously rubbing against your slit, “This is the mucous I want. Your hymen.”

You tried to step away but Dabi hooked his fingers deeper, pulling up and making you scream from the pain. "You tricked me! I didn't agree to this!"

Dabi chuckled darkly. "Next time ask clarifying questions, babe." He sharply removed his fingers, letting you fall on the floor. He didn't let you catch your breath, grabbing you by the back of your shirt and throwing you on the table.

Your head hit the solid wood first, hard, marking your teeth rattle and skull bounce, the rest of your body forcing you to slide to the end of the table. A groan escaped your throat and when you tried to sit up, your face was just inches from your dead boss's. You shrieked and tried to scramble away, but Dabi pinned you down, one hand on your back, the other yanking your pants off. “Stop!” You screamed, “This isn’t what I wanted!” 

You felt his tail circle your entrance, the tapered point pressing into your clit until you squirmed. It pulled your panties aside and felt the slick that had gathered, far too much for just rubbing your slit. It must have been some kind of demon magic that got him what he wanted faster. “This isn’t about what you want anymore,” he sneered in your ear, “your request is fulfilled, now pay up.” His tail slid inside you, suddenly much larger than you remembered seeing or swallowing, stretching out your insides as the tapered point met your cervix. 

But it kept growing.  

The tail’s girth continued to swell inside you, breaking your tight rings of untouched muscle as your core clenched around it. No matter how much you wanted to hate it, it felt good all the way inside you, reaching parts of you that had remained clean until now, and then the pain kicked in again. 

The discomfort before had been an uncomfortable adjustment, slightly itchy if anything, but now it was searing, your insides feeling like they’d been torn apart and gutted. You shrieked, nails digging into the wood of the table. You swung your hips back and forth as if that would make him remove his tail but it only made the tip press harder against your cervix.

Dabi shoved your hips back down against the table. “Relax, I’m almost done.” 

Each swell of his tail was excruciating, tears welling up in your eyes from the pain. 

It seemed to reach a maximum painful girth, stuck inside you as your insides twisted. And faster than it had grown, his tail shrunk back down to normal and slid out of you. You could feel blood following after, dripping out of your entrance and onto the board meeting table.  

Dabi started to lift himself up and you thought he was done, contract complete, but you heard him unzip his pants and before you could process exactly what was coming next, something new pressed inside you. It didn’t hurt as much as the tail, but it was much hotter, pushing all the way inside you until something warm and squishy pressed against your clit. Your sore insides itched and clung at the object, making you whimper. “This,” Dabi groaned, “is your tip.” 

He pulled back and slammed back in, your torn core making you see stars from the sharp pain. His dick. He’d put this demon fucking dick inside you. You screamed and tried to thrash, but Dabi was so much bigger than you. So much stronger. All you really ended up doing was humping his cock and crying.

He simply ignored you and pumped roughly into you, his heavy balls slamming against your clit with each downstroke. You kept crying and thrashing and Dabi must have gotten annoyed with you because he growled, “You’re making this harder than it needs to be. Just stay still and let me take what I want.”

You choked out a sob, failing at swallowing the tears that slid down your cheeks and onto the table. With your boss’s dead eyes staring into you, you did your best to ignore the rough thrusting of the demon you’d sold your virginity to. You’d paid for revenge and lost far more than you’d bargained for. 

[artobotsrollout]

Explosive Personalities: TfP Episodes I Wish We Got

I wish we had an episode of Wheeljack and Knockout shenanigans. 

At first glance there’s nothing there but looking closer they actually have similar free spirit, go where the wind takes them, type personalities.(At least IMO. I need to properly write down my headcanons and thoughts about Knockout and also Wheeljack some time cause I have opinions) Also I seriously should mention that I absolutely love the character analysis of Knockout by @nekkyousagi​ and I very much subscribe to it so my Knockout content will reflect that. Meaning his interests and favoured jobs are around weapons creation and dealing /tinkering/body modding etc etc FIRST over medical stuff. The breakdown (heh) of why, in that post, is freaking brilliant and makes a lot of sense based on heavily hinted dialogue and actions in the show and toy product descriptions.  I very much believe that this analysis explains what the writer’s intention for Knockout’s job, backstory, and character were intended to be canonically if not very very close

Please give it a read: Knockout…Doctor & Designer?

I hope it’s chill if my content with Knockout is made with this analysis in mind heavily cause it’s so good and really seems to explain so much in the show and I have a hard time seeing him any other way now jwaj;ralweras. Note: Some spoilers for TFP below so open and read at your own risk.

OKAY HEAR ME OUT:

They both get stuck in the shadow realm or something.

The first hour is both yelling threats at each other, Wheeljack whipping out a grenade and Knockout screeching at him to STOP cause they BOTH ARE STUCK in an ALTERNATE DIMENSION where they have no idea if it’s a closed space because of the repeating loops and what that would MEAN FOR LETTING A GRENADE LOOSE. 

Both try and do the whole casual/ nonchalant banter and demeanor they both are known for on their respective teams but quite accidentally dip into their nerdier scientist/tinkerer/weapons specialist sides

Discussing ways to get out but both being grumpy because they are weapon specialists. Complaining that Shockwave and Ratchet didn’t end up here instead since hand wavy space and dimensional travel was more their expertise.

Knockout asking for a closer look at the grenade and complimenting the craftmanship. Wheeljack eyeing his mods and being like “I don’t remember seein’ those available back on Cybertron” and Knockout getting to preen that he designed them himself. BEGRUDGING RESPECT ON BOTH SIDES.

Both spend an hour brainstorming the worst best nicknames for everyone they know. Wheeljack comes back at the end of the episode calling Optimus the “Big O.”  Knockout starts calling Starscream “Sunshine” just to see if it gets the same reaction from him as it did from Ratchet. Note: It absolutely does. Both team’s grumps hate it so both terrorize them more with it. They are somehow more insufferable to their teams.

Knockout and Wheeljack oddly working REALLY WELL together and lowkey pumped that they finally met another person like them who is brilliant at their work but also doesn’t know (and doesn’t really care about) the proper names for anything     “Wheeljack can you pass me the long doohickey?”     “Which one KO? The one that looks like a spoon or the one that looks like your boss’s ugly mug?     “Neither. It’s the pointy one that looks like a torture device. I call it ‘Starscream’s Personality.’”      “I am absolutely going to call it that from now on you know.”     “You’re welcome.~”

Segue into a nudge for Knockout’s redemption arc because I’m really sad about the one we got. LISTEN I JUST WANT KO TO KEEP RUNNING INTO AUTOBOTS ON NEUTRAL GROUNDS who just by existing are automatically nicer to him than anyone on the Nemesis and makes him have a mild but character building existential crisis. Wheeljack and Knockout if they managed to find some common ground and combine their forces would be an absolute chaotic MENACE okay!?

KO and Wheeljack combined making way way over the top weaponry and mods together. I’m talking Borderlands level shiz. Guns that curse you out. Canons with a machete attached. Absolutely bonkers. Megatron secretly is cursing because “oh no their guns are cooler than ours” even if said guns blows up in their faces sometimes. (Listen on KO’s toy description it says he’s a weapons specialist and his guns blow up on the user a lot. Wheeljack blows things up a lot and in older generations tend to not have the most reliable equipment.) Together this pair of “slap shit together and hope it works” troublemakers would somehow create functioning explosive weaponry. YES IT DOESN’T MAKE SENSE! NO I DON’T TAKE CRITICISM!! /j

[burnedbyshoto]

shallow or deep

— “Why would you want a guy with such a large and disgusting burn?” he whispered, his tone thoroughly rejected, broken. It was then that it hit you: did he think he wasn't good enough for you. —

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pairing: todoroki shouto x reader

warnings: fluff, angst (insecurities), cursing

word count: 2,544

a/n: I took the shouto has an insecurity over his scar even if it isnt that deep headcanon and ran with it, I hope yall enjoy this!!!! its been awhile since ive managed to write a fic in a single day!!!

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“You’re quite the handsome man!”

“Oh, thank you.”

“But that scar... don’t you want to get that fixed? I know someone with a quirk who can fix that up for you!”

“Thank you for your concern, but I think I am content with it.”

~

“Without a doubt, you are by far one of the most attractive Pro Heroes to have existed!”

“Thank you for your compliment, but I think it’s my ability to—”

“Don’t you think you would look hotter without your scar? Have you ever considered getting it removed?”

“...no, I haven’t…”

~

“Just imagine how Shouto would look like without his scar, here are some edited pictures for reference!”

“Wow, if I didn’t want to give him my life already, I would sell my soul to the devil to get with a scarless Shouto…”

“I don’t know, I think the scars sexy! Like look at it, it makes him so mysterious and badass! Guys with scars are so fucking hot! But in my opinion, without the scar? Shouto isn’t shit!”

“Guys with scars are hot, I’ll give you that, but not one-fourth of the face scars! He’s extremely handsome still, but it’s a bit tacky for the scar to be there. If it had been like Deku’s arm and hand scars — hell, even Eraserheads face scar — he would be so much finer.”

~

“And just how did you get your scar, Shouto?”

The American interviewer who sat in front of Shouto during this live national interview had the kindest smile on her face, but to the Pro Heroes who sat on the stage alongside Shouto could recognize that shark-like glint in her eyes. Her face was calm, tranquil, beautiful, but her eyes sent bitter acid through the Heroes mouth.

“I’ve already explained what happened in a previous interview,” Shouto spoke calmly, his fingers digging into his knees.

Your eyes looked over to your boyfriend, who seemed to be trying everything in his power to remain calm. You’d only seen this happen through a screen, never in real life.

The interviewer seemed unconcerned with his rebuttal, most likely expecting this from the man who wasn’t one for repeating big stories. Her chin tilted up almost like she was looking down on him, looking down on who he was. 

“Well then, I’ll bite,” she leaned forward, and you felt on edge to attack, but a hand gripped your wrist when a cruel smirk spread on her face. “Do you resent your mother for burning you that night? How do you feel about the fact that it was your mother who ruined your charming looks?”

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The car was silent.

Your eyes tried to remain focused on the road ahead of you, but to your misplaced anger and hurt, you focused on the side of Shouto’s face every so often while he drove.

The radio wasn’t even on, something the both of you enjoyed blasting because you would sing stupidly loud and Shouto would hum along in his own mirth. The only sound heard was the tires driving against the gravel road and your irritated breathing. 

The two of you had dropped off your friends five minutes ago, the once awkwardly tense car melting to this angry silence between the two of you in the front. 

You hadn’t defended him on live television because Momo held you back, and Shouto allowed the interviewer to defile his family’s past abuse with her keen touch. The silence between the two of you was also irritating you.

Once the interview was done, Shouto had been the first to rise from his chair and to leave. And you were hot on his heels. You hadn’t been forgiving to Shouto when you finally corned him.

“How could you let her talk to you like that, Shouto?” you blazoned, your heart hammering in your chest, anger, humiliation, and sorrow riling you up. “She was a total fucking cunt, and you just took it!”

Shouto stared down at you, that old yet familiar distant look in his eyes — that anger that burned brighter than any fire he could produce flaming in both eyes. 

“Drop it, y/n,” he all but hissed, his face stone, his tone fierce. “You don’t need to fight every single fucking thing that makes me uncomfortable.”

Those words weren’t enough to make you drop it, had it been any other fight you would have continued to press him for what was wrong with him, but it was that look in his eyes. The old look that you had sworn long ago you’d never allow to meet his eyes again.

The anger, humiliation, and broken look that he used to wear every day.

When Shouto finally parked, he didn’t hesitate to get out of the car, the door slamming loudly while you stumbled to follow after him. 

But he was tall, too tall, and was in the house well before you could close your own door. It didn’t deter the way that you stormed towards the house, the devil, and god riding on your shoulder in this battle to figure out what the hell was wrong with Shouto.

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“I don’t resent my mother,” Shouto cooly stated. “It was an unfortunate accident, but fortunately, it hasn’t kept me from anything. I still have complete sight and functionality, so I’m okay. I could never resent my mother.”

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“Won’t you tell me what’s wrong?” you ask, coming into the house.

This was Shouto’s house, something that Endeavor had gifted to him in his expression of apology. He and his siblings had been given their own homes the moment they turned twenty, and shortly after starting your relationship, he had asked you to move in.

You both were now twenty-three. You were neither each other's firsts on many levels, but there was no denying that this was the best relationship the both of you had. You comforted each other to no level, loved each other like no other. It was almost a shame that you didn’t have any feelings for your old classmate during high school because maybe then you’d been together for longer than a year.

But nevertheless, the two of you held no regrets. His house had become yours with him.

It was a bright place, no matter how dull the day was, it was always vivacious and warm in here.

But not now.

The door closed behind you, and you saw Shouto standing at the kitchen table, head lowered, arms tense. The world seemed grey, dull, and cold. You almost swore the house’s temperature was ten degrees cooler while you approached your boyfriend, who appeared to be trapped in his thoughts.

You neared him, your own anger diminishing slowly when you saw the shadows over his eyes, his teeth gnashing in a grit. 

Sorrow, humiliation, guilt.

That’s all you could read from him, but you needed more from him.

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The interviewer seems to have expected that answer for she remains unfazed, but that predatorial glint in her eyes remains. The eyes of someone who hasn’t shown off their strongest of cards.

“How about relationship-wise? Have any of the beautiful ladies you’ve dated or have wanted to court in the past told you that you’d be much more handsome without it? Don’t you wish that you could be more normal for y/h/n?”

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“Why would you want a guy with such a large and disgusting burn?” he whispered, his tone thoroughly rejected, broken. It was then that it hit you: did he think he wasn't good enough for you.

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You stood up, the chair you were sitting on scraping loudly against the black floor. The interviewer snapped her attention on you for just a moment, eyes sparkling with the thrill of getting a dramatic reaction from someone.

But Momo and Uraraka held you down, and Sero’s tape came across your mouth to keep you from talking your mind.

“There have been words like that before,” Shouto says, his voice steely smooth. “But as you can see, I’m not dating anyone who shares those same opinions.”

The interviewer seemed to deflate at that answer, obviously not the juicy breakdown she was hoping for. She continued down the mass interview with the most successful class from UA’s hero program, and you continued to fume in your seat. Anger that couldn’t even be quieted by the sour emotions coming off of Shouto in large waves.

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“W-What?” you say almost in a horrified whisper.

Your eyes were wide, unsure if you had heard Shouto correctly. You prayed you had. A fist clenched on your chest, your gaze followed Shouto’s clouded face when he stood up completely.

“You heard me right,” he repeats, his focus on the wall. Finally, his blue and grey eyes focus on you; they’re distant, so far away, you weren’t sure if you could get him back anytime soon. A soft sigh ragged in his chest, nearly choking in his throat when he looked at you. “I was never insecure about my scar growing up… I didn’t have anything in sight except for wanting to be a hero, and hell, even through high school, it didn’t matter. No one in our class mentioned it, and I went on to believe that it while it wasn’t normal, it was in some way.” His hands found your cheeks, pressing onto them gently, and you could feel them tremble slightly. “Then I finally liked someone romantically, and we were thrust into the crazy world of media, and I realized that my burn isn’t normal.”

“S-Shouto…”

“The first person I ever dated told me they knew someone who would fix it up for me for free. The second person… well, they were an idiot and thought if we had children, the burn would be transferred over. More and more people both privately and publicly told me that I would be s-so much better without it… Do you think I’d be better without it?” his lips twisted, and you could only stare up in his eyes that seemed so far away so broken. “Even the ones who liked it, it was some weird fetish of theirs… the truth is, I don’t know how to feel about it. I shouldn’t hate it because it’s who I am, but I hate it because people always have some opinion about it, and no matter what I hear, it always pisses me off. I just… you’re beautiful, y/n. You’re the person in my life that I never want to see leave, and I know that it’s shallow to value people only for their beauty, but I’m not beautiful. Scars and burns are not beautiful, they’re ugly... My looks are decent at best, but that’s all that makes me desirable. Not you, though. You’re gorgeous, your personality and attitude never fail to make everyone feel better, and yet you’re here with me… why would you love someone like me?”

There it was.

His eyes kept to your feet as if he wasn’t worthy of staring you in the face. His hands continue to hold against you in a weak grasp, as if he pressed any harder against you, you would crumble to dust or say you hated him. 

Your hands grasped his wrists, pressing his hands even more against your skin. It was an intense action, so out of the blue that his eyes snapped up to meet yours finally. 

Shouto wasn’t sure what to expect when he looked at your face; he knew you were upset about the interview, and truthfully he wished he hadn’t warned Uraraka, Momo, and Sero to keep you down when those questions were asked — should they have been proposed. He also expected tears, you were always one to be more emotional than he was. 

What he didn’t expect were steely yet warm eyes.

“You’re an idiot, Todoroki Shouto,” you finally speak. You took a step closer to him, your heartbeat in your throat. This was a raw Shouto standing before you. A Shouto, you had no idea how he reacted, no matter how much you knew him. So, if this was a rebuilding scene, a moment to get him to see what you saw, you would take it. “You’re right, scars and burns are ugly. They shouldn’t be romanticized. It’s also not the same as others, who take scars as a sign of overcoming hardships and victory. Your scar is one of a kind… but like you’ve said, shallow traits aren’t enough…” Your chin trembled just the slightest bit, but you couldn’t let yourself cry. No, you had to be strong for him. “You’re the kindest person I know, which knowing the saint that is Midoriya and All Might, it means a lot. I don’t mean it because you’re my boyfriend, or because I want you to feel better, but you had every reason to not be kind in your life and look at you, you’re gentle, you’re sweet. You also speak your mind, no matter what. Your opinions are valuable, and that’s why you’re such a great leader. You were made to become a hero that surpassed All Might, and you did it without ever once going down the road your father had intended for you. You did that. But if we’re going to be looking at the shallow traits, we can do that.

Your scar is a sign of growth. It’s ugly, and it’s beautiful. It’s ugly because it makes you feel like you’re not good for me. It’s ugly because it was such a dark time for you when it came. It’s ugly because it’s an insecurity. But I also see beauty. It’s beautiful because it’s another place I can tenderly love at night. It’s beautiful because who you were back then is just a scar of who you were. It’s beautiful because it’s a source of your strength despite it all. You can think whatever you want of it, Shouto, think it’s good or bad, but because it’s apart of you I have to and I choose to love it. Why would I ever want you to change who you are if you’re comfortable with it? What kind of lover would I be if I decided to love everything but one part of you?” your fingers trailed to his scarred skin, the red skin forever warm under your touch. “Shallow or deep, I will never stop loving you.”

Tears fell from his eyes, and his lips crashed against yours.

The two of you sink to the floor in this wet and sweet embrace. Lips never tearing from each other, fingers wistfully holding on, a silent prayer to each other of your devotions, and hope to never leave each other’s sides. Your fingers continued to stroke against his scar, and he held you so close until you could no longer kiss.

So your wet and bruised lips pressed against his warm scar, gentle and soft reminders that you were there for him until his faint cries became steady breathing.

Todoroki Shouto may never get over the insecurity of his scar, but he’d be damned if he thought for a second whether it was there or not, you’d love him any more or any less. You loved him entirely, and for that, he was forever grateful.

[an-absolute-travesty]

Let me go

~Writing strike is over!~ 

*confetti*

Hopefully that taught the general public to appreciate writers a bit more

There was no prompt for this, I just wanted to write it :)

Massive tw for: major character death, grieving, blood, panic...this one is rough, friends

Word count: 1,701

About: kam angst

Tag list (tell me if you want to be added or removed):@you-are-the-vacker-legacy @ruewen-and-rising @lemontarto @a-lonely-tatertot @clearlykeefitz @percabetn @vibing-in-the-void @sewersewersewercouch @everyonehasthoughts @imaramennoodle @enbies-and-felonies @blxckh0les42 @rainbowtay-11 @littlemisscupcake 

Tam was making lunch for his boyfriend when he got the hail. Keefe himself sat in his art studio, working on a project that Tam apparently wasn’t allowed to see yet. Their anniversary was coming up though, five years of success. Tam suspected it was some present to do with that. Maybe a nice landscape, they needed something to sit over their mantel. 

“Hello?”

Dex’s voice came from the other end. “Tam, we just got word of a possible Neverseen attack in Atlantis. We think it might just be a few crazy extremists, no leaders spotted yet. but since you and Keefe are closest we need you two to check it out. No interactions required, just a scope out.”

“Got it, be there in five.”

~*~

It...wasn’t just a few extremists. If that wasn’t obvious enough. 

“Shit,” Tam said in a harsh whisper, pulling Keefe far behind a wall as he crept around the corner. 

“What? Who is it?”

“A certain mommy dearest.” 

Then, someone appeared behind him. Tam couldn’t remember who. Couldn’t remember how. All he knew was that he was shoved from his safe spot into the open. 

“Hey boss, we got a visitor. Remember the little shade boy?”

He quickly moved to a place of defense, shadows prepared. 

“Oh yes, I remember him. Shame, he wasn’t the goal. Ruy?”

The man turned. 

“Be rid of him.” 

Everything went to slow motion. A throwing knife was hurtling towards him. He braced for impact, there was no way to dodge it. Aimed right for the heart.

Only then he saw the flash of movement. Keefe fell back into Tam, the wound in his chest just starting to bleed. 

“No!” Did it come from him or Gisela? Tam couldn’t tell, his eyes trained on Keefe’s face as he gently lowered him to the ground. 

“Oh you fucking idiot.” Tam didn’t know if he was talking to himself or Keefe. Maybe both. He went to remove the knife from where it sat lodged in Keefe’s heart.

“No,” He said weakly. “Leave it, less bleeding.” Somewhere in the background the Neverseen had gotten away, Tam never found out what their goal was that day. He was sure they didn’t get it, though.

Keefe held Tam’s face in one hand, staining him with blood. 

“You have beautiful eyes you know. I’ve always loved your eyes. I hope I get to see them again.”

“Keefe, don’t talk like that, you’ll be fine, we’ll get Elwin in here and-”

“No.” He took a break to cough, it left blood rolling down his chin. “No, Elwin can’t do anything for me. You can hail him, I’d rather go in the infirmary than the street.”

“Keefe-”

“Go, call him. It’ll make you feel better, love”

So he did.

Elwin was there fast, 10 minutes at most. 

It took entirely too long.

~*~

Keefe passed out on the way to he infirmary. He still laid asleep as Elwin frantically rushed to grab something that might heal him. The contrast was awful, half to death and Keefe looked calm in the chaotic room all while being soaked with his own blood. 

Bullhorn was laid beside him. Having Sophie around, it wasn’t a too uncommon sight, but everything felt more grim when the typically white sheets had gone red. 

Finally, Elwin stepped back. Tears shined in the physician’s eyes. 

“I’ve done what I can. It was a deep wound. Now we-” He got choked up. “Now we can only hope.”

Tam creeped towards the bed. Bullhorn laid scarily still next to Keefe, silent and unmoving. 

He touched his forehead to Keefe’s as tears streamed down his face. 

“Please stay,” He whispered. “Please wake up, please. You- you can’t just leave me, please, I love you.” 

A hand moved up to cradle Tam’s face.

“Hey...Bangs Boy.” His voice was weak, but there.

Tam couldn’t tell who was crying anymore, him or Keefe. Maybe both. 

Tam held his face, almost not believing he was real. 

“Keefe! Please stay here, stay awake, stay with me please, love.”

A sad smile came across his face. “I wish I had that option, but...if I don’t, then please don’t look at what’s in the studio, okay? Please promise me you won’t look at it, Tam.”

“I promise.” Tam said without a second thought. 

More friends rushed into the room then, hoarding around his bedside. All the best friends, they hadn’t talked all together in months.

How gruesome that this was the only thing that brought them all together. 

The spent the next hour together, talking about old stories, laughing even. The room was still somber. Tears were exchanged with sad and nostalgic smiles, remembering the years they spent together. Suddenly, Keefe interrupted after being quiet for some time.  

“Guys…” He said in labored breaths. “Please leave the room. I don’t want you all to have to see this. I love you all, and...and I better see you at my wanderling planting.” Everyone paused, before solemnly lining up and mumbling their last goodbyes. Sobs were heard throughout the room and eventually they all filed out into the hall, their wails could be heard from inside the infirmary.

Tam didn’t move from his spot. 

“You always were stubborn, Bangs Boy. That’s why I love you.” His tone was raspy and harsh. 

“I love you, too.” Tam said, voice cracking, as he wrapped his arms around Keefe. “Why couldn’t you just let me take the knife?”

He didn’t answer at first, just pulled Tam’s face up to look at him. He smiled fondly but there was an obvious sadness to it. 

“You have so much to live for. Linh needs you.”

“Linh can live on her own, she’s stong.”

Keefe shook his head. “Let me go, Bangs Boy.”

 “I can’t, I’ll never let you go, you’ll be fine-”

“Tam…” He trailed off, the sentence left unfinished as he winced in pain. Keefe’s typically tan face had gone ghostly pale, his perfectly mused hair now sat in limp strings on his forehead. 

“Hey,” He managed, holding the unhealable wound on his chest. “I think I’m...I think I’m heading out. I can’t really feel my toes. Tell everyone that my last words were ‘Cassius is a little piss baby,’ I can’t let him think I forgave him in my last moments.”

Tam smiled, Keefe could always make him smile, even in moments like this. 

Keefe simply held Tam’s face, a thousand words left unspoken. 

His last were simple.

“I love you,” 

Before Tam could reply, he was gone. 

~*~

There were a lot of people at the wanderling planting, too many. All the random people from Foxfire that Tam barely knew, random citizens, every councillor. 

Too many. 

Everything moved far too fast to keep pace with Tam’s mind that felt as if it dragged across the floor. Mourners would only pay their respects for a few moments, unless they were a close friend. 

Too many. Too fast. 

The ceremony was confusing. Tam didn’t understand it, it was just too much for him to handle. He hadn’t been to one before and was now meant to lead it while still in mourning. 

Too many. Too fast. Too much. 

Before long he couldn’t stand it anymore, he ran off into the forest. Not paying attention to direction. He heard yells calling him name.

Too many. Too fast. Too much. Too loud. 

Too bright, why did they have to wear green? 

Too lonely, it was just him and Linh again. 

Too sad, he couldn’t do this.

Too many. Too fast. Too much. Too loud. Too bright. Too lonely. Too sad. Too many. Too fast. Too much. Too loud. Too bright. Too lonely. Too sad. Too many. Too fast. Too much. Too loud. Too bright. Too lonely. Too sad. Too much. Too much. Too much. Too much. Too much. Too much. Too much.

He found himself sitting at the base of a tree, he didn’t know who’s. He couldn’t handle it. He had to go...somewhere. He didn’t know where. He had to get away from this place. The ceremony could go on without him. 

He took out his home crystal, ignoring the voices still searching for him in the labyrinth of trees. 

~*~

Tam stumbled into his previously shared home, face finally dried, but still red and puffy. 

Pictures on the walls shook as he slammed the door, a plate fell from its place in the cabinet but he payed it no mind. 

Somehow he ended up in the art studio...well Keefe’s art studio. Though, he guessed he wasn’t so much now. 

Tam sat down in front of the large, tarped piece that Keefe had been hiding from him for weeks. 

It was probably just a landscape. Tam kept telling himself that. Just a landscape, that was what they talked about. 

And yet...he couldn’t help the curiosity. 

Keefe’s last wish was to not look at it. How could he disrespect that? But if it was just a landscape...why would that be his last wish?

Tam slowly unveiled the painting. 

It was a portrait.

Of him. 

In the painting he was smiling, his whole face was lit up, the bags now present under his eyes were missing. 

Why would he hide this? 

Tam flipped over the canvas, a piece was folded paper was stuffed in between the wood. It looked like a preparation for a speech, the ideas he decided not to use, crossed out.

“Tam would you-

Tam you know what would be really super cool-

But, consider if you just-

Ugh this is harder than I thought it would be 

Hey uh..you are cooler than like...a whole pan of mallowmellt 

UGH

Tam...I love you more than life. I want to be with you for the rest of it. Would you please give me the honor of marrying you?

HAH I DID IT!!! Now I just have to...actually do it.”

Tam slid to the ground, a sob escaped his body and tears slicked his face. 

~*~

Their anniversary was coming up. 

Five years of success. 

On the day, Tam took the note to his tree. 

“Let me go, bangs boy”

He couldn’t, he wouldn’t. 

“I love you, too”

[auncyen]

Ok ok so I'd been idly thinking about updating "Chats with Joker in Mementos" for Royal for a while, except as far as I know there aren't any transcriptions for the Royal Mementos chats like there is for Vanilla...

So...after some questionable use of my time, I now have a list of a good chunk of the starters in Royal. Only starters, not responses, since the point of the fic is having Joker be the one to respond, and I didn't transcribe ones I didn't think would be interesting for him to respond to, but still, if anyone does ever look to do a complete transcription, this might be helpful as a start? Or just interesting if you want to see what some characters talk about. Spoilers for third semester below cut.

Ryuji: Man, we really bust our asses to get stronger in here. I wish it meant we got stronger in the real world too.

Ryuji: Man, I had this horrible dream last night… Can’t remember a thing about it, though.

Ryuji: Ya know what? I guess Mona does have a mask, technically.

Ryuji: Yo, the way he jumps behind Shadows is so sick!

Ryuji: Yo, is it just me, or is fallin’ asleep getting tougher every night? At this point, I’m outta ideas of what to do.

Ryuji: Kinda fiendin’ for some ramen right about now… Maybe I’ll hit up Ogikubo when we get back.

RyujI: So lately, I’ve been tryin’ to work some training into my nightly routine before bed.

Ryuji: Hey, is it just me, or is Morgana’s sword basically the same size as Joker’s knife?

Ryuji: My mom made gyudon last night! My fave! Now I’ve got, like, fifty times more energy than usual!

Ryuji: This phantom thief stuff feels real as hell whenever he’s flyin’ around with that grappling hook.

Ryuji: Dude, that grappling hook is awesome! He looks like a freakin’ superhero with that thing!

Ryuji: Aww man, I just can’t get enough of those Akihabara maids…

Ryuji: Aren’t knives kinda hard to use ‘cause of their shortness? I definitely prefer my own shit.

Ryuji: I always thought darts looked easy—just aim for the board, y’know? But, it’s waaay harder than that.

Ryuji: Every try the monja in Tsukishima? That stuff is LEGIT.

Ryuji: Yo, does this outfit really make me look like I’m part of some biker gang?

-

Morgana: Listen, it’s not that I look like a cat. Cats just happen to look like me.

Morgana: I repeat: I am not a cat. To prove it, I took an actual bath yesterday.

Morgana: So, cats love to chase mice, right? I don’t get it—where’s the fun in that?

Morgana: I’m always so entranced by Panther’s whip technique!

Morgana: Panther, we have matching tails!

Morgana: You know, I’ve never actually been in a car before. Is it anything like I am now?

Morgana: I definitely made the right decision giving him the code name “Joker.”

Morgana: I’m willing to bet Joker’s skilled enough to use throwing knives.

Morgana: Anime, books, movies… Phantom thieves sure are popular.

Morgana: Last night I dreamt that Phantom Thieves were kicking some serious butt—let’s bring that dream to life!

Morgana: I can teach you everything you need to know about being a phantom thief. Relax—you’re in good hands!

Morgana: *yawn* I didn’t get enough sleep…

Morgana: I couldn’t fall asleep at all last night. I just laid there with my eyes open…

Morgana: I like Yongen-Jaya; it’s a great place for a stroll.

Morgana: Is Shujin Academy the only thing in Aoyama?

Morgana: I was vegetating in front of the TV last night, and I have to say, there are some pretty decent shows on now.

-

Ann: The bakery had a sale yesterday and I ended up buying everything they had!

Ann: The Ferris wheel is a must for me at theme parks, every time. I love being able to just relax.

Ann: I have an upcoming shoot at a theme park, but what sucks is how I can’t go on any of the rides.

Ann: Last night I dreamt I was eating a chocolate bar, then all of a sudden, it got mad and started chasing me!

Ann: Every once in a while I have a dream where I get chased by a Shadow…

Ann: I’ve been sleeping really well since I started getting all this exercise.

Ann: I was up late watching TV last night, so I might be a little sleep deprived…

Ann: I tend to do my clothes shopping in Kichijoji—it’s fun looking through all the resale shops.

Ann: I hate when people ask me to say stuff in English just ‘cause I lived overseas.

Ann: It always bothers me when foreign movie subtitles leave stuff out or take too many liberties.

Ann: I was talking to my overseas friend the other day—her straightforward attitude was really refreshing!

Ann: I was talking to Shiho on the phone and before I knew it, three whole hours had passed!

Ann: Joker seems like he’d make a good cook, doesn’t he? I mean, he’s great with his knife and all…

Ann: It’s actually quite exhilarating to attack with a whip. I wonder why that is…

Ann: Whenever my foreign relatives come to Japan, they always rave about how much they love Japanese food!

Ann: Do you think there’s anything I can do about my outfit? I feel like I stand out too much in this…

Ann: Is there a difference between a whip and a grappling hook?

Ann: Ya know, Skull’s always been into skull designs and stuff.

Ann: Wouldn’t a grappling hook be awfully handy in the real world?

-

Yusuke: I wish to paint the world as only I see it. The best way to succeed at this is through practice.

Yusuke: It’s fun to walk around and inspect different temples and shrines. The architecture is always impressive.

Yusuke: If Shadows are sentient, do you think their being moved by a painting would invoke a change of heart?

Yusuke: There have been times where I was compelled to create three-dimensional art.

Yusuke: I’m quite curious about Mona’s Western-style sword…

Yusuke: I hear whips are quite difficult to use. Where did you learn how to wield one?

Yusuke: Joker using a grappling hook…. That would make for a picture-perfect composition.

Yusuke: Mona, what exactly do you have in those pouches?

Yusuke: Creating a piece of art is pointless unless I can convey the full essence of the subject.

Yusuke: Art museums stimulate my creativity like no other place—I wish I could live inside one.

Yusuke: Skull and I both use long melee weapons, but they’re total opposites of one another.

Yusuke: Why does my outfit have a tail? I don’t understand…

Yusuke: I considered growing my own bean sprouts, but it seems to be more expensive than buying them grown.

Yusuke: I once had a dream that I washed up on a deserted island. I painted as much as I pleased… So wonderful.

Yusuke: I may specialize in Japanese-style painting, but I’d like to learn some Western techniques as well.

Yusuke: That grappling hook is very useful. I should find a way to utilize one in my daily life.

Yusuke: The other day, I went into the mountains to gather vegetables so I could cut back on food expenses.

Yusuke: I tried to paint a landscape of the starry sky once, but it’s quite difficult to do so from within the city.

Yusuke: India ink isn’t my specialty, but I’ve been experimenting with it in some recent work, just for fun.

-

Makoto: I may have stopped being a doormat for adults, but people are still calling me a “teacher’s pet.”

Makoto: A phantom thief’s body is their most vital asset. We need to make sure we eat balanced, nutritious meals.

Makoto: Do you enjoy visiting theme parks? I’ve rarely been to one myself.

Makoto: Fox looks cooler using his katana than I had originally imagined.

Makoto: I had the weirdest dream… I was at school, but I was wearing my phantom thief outfit.

Makoto: Would anyone care to learn how to drive, while we’re here? This place seems as good as any for practice.

Makoto: I know it’s not very healthy, but I do enjoy eating ramen from time to time.

Makoto: Once I’ve graduated, I’m going to buy a motorcycle and go on a road trip.

Makoto: I’ve been working on my grades because I still want to attend college, despite being a phantom thief.

Makoto: I want to read a certain book, but it’s out of print. Where do you suppose I could find a copy?

Makoto: Maybe I’m just burned out, but waking up has grown awfully difficult lately.

Makoto: The grappling hook’s cable seems pretty strong, but it’s scary to think what could happen if it snapped.

Makoto: Once my sister brought home some sushi for me. It was indescribably good…

-

Futaba: I heard rhythm’s an important part of fighting, sooo… I started playing a rhythm game!

Futaba: There’s going to be an event tonight in the MMO I play. I can’t wait!

Futaba: This MMO I’m hooked on is really cool. Do you wanna play with me? Oh—it’s in English, though.

Futaba: I’m about to beat the game I’ve been playing. Wonder what I should play next?

Futaba: I’ve been going outside a lot more, so now I’m sleeping way better than I did when I was a shut-in.

Futaba: Guess what? I’m making a game called “Hungry Hungry Mona”!

Futaba: You know who’s a really good driver, is Sojiro. He can parallel park with his eyes closed!

Futaba: If you could shoot grappling hooks from your hands, you’d probably be able to get around just using those!

Futaba: Ya know, I’ve thought about workin’ out and fighting alongside you guys.

Futaba: You guys should try playing shooters! It could help you improve your gun skills.

Futaba: Last night I had a dream my hard drive failed… That was scary.

Futaba: Wouldn’t it be cool if you could mod the grappling hook so it was electrified?

Futaba: Sure, the internet’s convenient, but it’s not like it can do everything. Don’t overestimate its capabilities.

Futaba: I wonder if I’d be okay going to some place by myself if it wasn’t crowded. Inokashira Park seems nice.

Futaba: Yesterday Sojiro bought me my favorite instant yakisoba!

Futaba: Maybe I should get a gun too, just for self-defense… Nah, my hands need to be empty.

-

Haru: I found this cafe in Kichioji with phenomenal tea—would you care to try it sometime?

Haru: I ordered kusaya but they refused to make it—they said they couldn’t get the smell out of the kitchen.

Haru: I feel like I need to learn more about the world, but I’m not sure how to best go about it.

Haru: Recently, I’ve been finding rare delicacies rather enticing…

Haru: Even lately, I sometimes dream about doing phantom thief things with Mona.

Haru: If you’re having trouble getting yourself to relax, I recommend herbal tea.

Haru: Asakusa is a wonderful area—I love how it’s this blend of the old and the new.

Haru: Ever since I started high school I’ve been taking the train in the morning, but I’m still not used to it…

Haru: Queen, your mask looks like it’s made of iron. Doesn’t it get heavy?

Haru: Joker’s so acrobatic! He’s really got the hang of that grappling hook.

Haru: I don’t think I’ve gotten this much exercise since I was in ballet.

Haru: Let me know if you ever get a tear in your clothing—I’m good at sewing, so I could most likely fix it.

Haru: I dreamt that the vegetables I’d been growing all died… I was so sad.

Haru: Your weapon seems fun, Skull. Do you want to swap sometime?

Haru: Sometimes it’s impossible for me to fall asleep on days that we’ve been to Palaces, no matter how tired I am.

Haru: You know, before this, I’d never considered using an axe for anything other than chopping firewood…

Haru: My hands have gotten all calloused… I supposed it comes with the territory in gardening.

-

Akechi: I have no intention of changing my stance on matters, no matter what anyone may say.

Akechi: Pancakes... I don’t want to hear that word again for a long, long time.

Akechi: We don’t have much time left. Please do what you can to avoid getting sick.

Akechi: The enemies are stronger than ever. Don’t let your guard down.

Akechi: A world that panders to your every whim is so mundane. Where’s the thrill if there’s no competition?

Akechi: Do you prefer my previous outfit or this one? Moving around’s become much easier for me.

Akechi: This place is immense. If there weren’t train tracks everywhere, I’d bring my bike here.

Akechi: We’re working under the constraints of a time limit, so I’d appreciate it if you could be more efficient.

Akechi: If you’re looking for a way to train both your mind and your body, I highly recommend bouldering.

Akechi: You think I’m frightening when I fight? Well, I’m afraid you’re just going to have to accept it.

Akechi: I meant to tell you, regarding Shido… Thank you for keeping your promise.

Akechi: You may not like working with me, but I’m counting on your assistance until our goal is achieved.

Akechi: When we’re riding in the car like this, it’s easy to forget that we’re actually inside Mona.

Akechi: The Shadows here behave differently from the ones in the Palaces, don’t they?

Akechi: I’m getting a bit hungry. I should’ve eaten beforehand.

Akechi: I enjoy spending time in Kichijoji. It’s not very big, but there are plenty of trendy shops.

Akechi: Riding in the car may beat walking, but it doesn’t stop my legs from growing stiff and sore…

-

Sumire: I have a few different superstitions for good luck in my routines… They get sort of hard to drop.

Sumire: It was already hard for me to believe Palaces existed, but to think there’s such a massive one under Shibuya…

Sumire: It’s a bit cramped in here with this many people…

Sumire: I get stiff all over from just sitting in the car.

Sumire: Why is the one desert you get to eat during the week so delicious?

Sumire: A phantom thief outfit represents a person’s image of their rebellion, right?

Sumire: I wonder if I should try incorporating another sport into my gymnastics training.

Sumire: I wonder what I could use as inspiration for my performances…

Sumire: Swords are actually pretty hard to wield.

Sumire: Whenever I travel, I always end up buying some sort of good luck charm.

Sumire: Your outfits are all so unique. I can see coordinating them wasn’t a priority.

Sumire: This time of year, a heating pad’s an absolute must for keeping warm.

Sumire: Sometimes people will just walk up to me and ask me to show them a standing split.

Sumire: I’m in top shape today! Let’s keep going.

Sumire: Do you all stretch beforehand? You could pull a muscle if you don’t.

Sumire: It’s too bad gymnastics competitions aren’t on TV more often.

Sumire: Fighting makes for a pretty good workout, doesn’t it?

-

while I didn't transcribe responses, I did notice something a bit disappointing: neither Sumire nor Akechi seemed to have responses for anyone else. It's possible I missed one?? But not being able to remember any, they must not have many if they do have some. A bit odd.

[rpf-bat]

You Can’t Keep My Friends

Pairing: Mikey Way x Reader

Genre: Romance, Drama

Summary: Written for Gothtober 2020, Day 4. Prompt: “Bat Country”. 

It’s the summer of 2005, and you, and the other members of My Chemical Romance, are on Warped Tour. You start making friends with your tour-mates, Avenged Sevenfold. But, an unexpected comment from their guitarist, makes Mikey jealous. 

You were relaxing on your tour bus, reading the new issue of Fangoria, when you heard a knock at the door. You got up, wondering who it could be. 

“Hi,” greeted an unfamiliar, black-haired man, when you opened the door. “Is Mikey here?” 

“Sorry,” you shrugged. “He’s not around. I think he went over to Fall Out Boy’s bus, to hang out with Pete.” 

“That’s okay,” the man shrugged, brushing his bangs out of his eyes. “Oh, I guess I should introduce myself.” 

“Yeah, what’s your name?” you wondered. 

“I’m Zacky Vengeance,” the man smiled. “Ok….I’m actually Zacky Baker. But, you gotta admit, my stage name sounds cooler.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Vengeance,” you laughed. “I’m Y/N.” 

“You plays drums for My Chem, right?” Zacky guessed. 

“Yeah, that’s right,” you nodded. 

“I’m in Avenged Sevenfold,” Zacky explained. “I play guitar.” 

“Good to know,” you smiled. “Did you want me to tell Mikey, when I see him, that you stopped by?”

“I actually wanted to thank him,” Zacky confessed. “Our bassist, Johnny, broke one of his strings during soundcheck.” 

“Oh, that sucks,” you said sympathetically. 

“Yeah, and somehow, we couldn’t find our replacement strings anywhere!” Zacky frowned. “But, thankfully, Mikey let us borrow some of his.” 

“Oh, that was nice of him,” you replied. He really is a kind person, always going out of his way to help others. It was one of the things you liked most about him. 

“I wanted to give him this, as a thank you,” Zacky said, pulling a beer bottle out of his pants pocket. “Could you give it to him, for me?”

“Sure,” you shrugged, taking the bottle. “I’ll put it in the fridge for him, and let him know it’s there, when he comes back.” 

“Thanks, Y/N,” Zacky smiled. “It was nice meeting you.” 

“Yeah, you too, dude,” you replied. This was one of your favorite parts of Warped Tour - you always made new friends, with other bands. 

Now, you thought, back to reading about the new Romero movie.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

You looked up from the page, when you heard the bus door open. 

“Hey, Y/N,” Mikey greeted, wiping sweat off his forehead. 

“Hey,” you smiled back. “Hot out there today?”

“Scorching,” Mikey laughed. “What’s up?” 

“Zacky from Avenged Sevenfold was here,” you explained. “He gave me a beer, to give to you. He said thanks for helping them out.” 

“Oh, sweet!” Mikey grinned. He went into the fridge, took out the beer, and twisted the cap open. “He got me my favorite kind, too!” 

“I wish we had our own supply, this year,” you confessed. 

“Well, Gerard’s trying to stay sober,” Mikey pointed out, taking a sip. “So, for his sake, we can’t really keep them on the bus, like we did last summer.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” you sighed. “I was being selfish.” 

“If you want one, I’ll try and find you some,” Mikey offered, having another swig. 

“Nah,” you declined. “It’s not like I need it that badly.” 

“Speaking of which,” Mikey wondered, “where is Gerard?”

Your vocalist had been staying on the bus, like a hermit, for most of the tour. It had to be boring for him. But, you supposed it was the best way, for him to avoid temptation. 

“Apparently there’s a comic book shop, not far from the venue,” you explained. 

“Oh, so, he went shopping?” Mikey realized, finishing his drink, and tossing the bottle into a trash bin. 

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I mean, we’re not going onstage, til like, eight o clock tonight, so he’s got plenty of time, to get there and back.” 

“That’s true,” Mikey reasoned. “It’s kinda crazy, isn’t it? How when Warped Tour started last summer, we were on at like, midday, because nobody knew who we were…”

“And then our time slot got moved!” you recalled. “Because suddenly, Revenge was like, the hottest album of the year.” 

“And now, this summer, we’re headlining,” Mikey said proudly. 

“We really have come a long way,” you agreed. 

“Since we have so much time on our hands,” Mikey suggested, “do you want to go check out Avenged Sevenfold’s set?” 

“Sure!” you agreed. “Do we need to take a couple security guys with us?” 

“Nah,” Mikey chuckled. “Just put your sunglasses on, and your hood up, and we’ll be fine.”

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

You joined the crowd, just as the band was starting to take the stage. The vocalist, you noticed, was a buff-looking guy in a muscle tank, wearing a backwards baseball cap. He was almost the antithesis of Gerard’s pretty-boy aesthetic. 

“I’ve met him,” Mikey said, following your gaze. “He’s actually a pretty cool guy.” 

“What’s his name?” you wondered. 

“He calls himself M. Shadows,” Mikey replied. 

“Edgy,” you joked. 

“Maybe I’m the lame one, for using my real name,” Mikey considered. “I could have been, I dunno, Mikey Nightmare, or something.”

“I like your name,” you assured him, taking his hand. 

Mikey blushed. 

“WHAT’S UP, DENVER?!” M. Shadows screamed into the microphone. 

“....Is that where we are today?” you blinked. 

“I guess,” Mikey chuckled. “I’ll be honest, the cities start to blur together, after a while.”

“WHO WANTS TO HEAR A SONG OFF OUR NEW ALBUM?”, M. Shadows bellowed. 

The crowd cheered. 

“ALRIGHT!”,” the singer announced. “THIS SONG IS CALLED….BAT  COUNTRY!”

You banged your head to the beat, as Avenged Sevenfold launched into the song:

Caught here in a fiery blaze, won't lose my will to stay

I tried to drive all through the night

The heat stroke ridden weather, the barren empty sights

No oasis here to see, the sand is singing deathless words to me

Can't you help me as I'm startin' to burn (all alone)

Too many doses and I'm starting to get an attraction

My confidence is leaving me on my own (all alone)

No one can save me and you know I don't want the attention

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

After the set ended, you and Mikey showed your passes to their security guy, and walked backstage. 

“Dude, your show was amazing!” Mikey complimented. 

“Oh, hey, Mikey!” Zacky grinned. “Y/N, you came to watch, too?”

“Yeah,” you smiled. “He’s right, you guys really killed it up there today.”

“Thanks,” Zacky replied. “Oh, hey, let me introduce you to the rest of the guys!” 

“Sure!” you nodded. 

“This is my man, Synyster Gates,” Zacky introduced, indicating a man in a grey hat. “But, you can call him Syn.” 

“Hi, Syn,” you greeted. 

“Hey,” Syn waved. “Nice to meet you. I’m the other guitarist.” 

“He’s lead guitar, and I’m rhythm guitar,” Zacky explained. 

“Oh, so, basically, the same setup that Ray and Frank have,” you figured. 

“I feel like I need to meet this Frank guy sometime,” Zacky quipped. “People keep telling me I look like him.”

“You kinda do,” you confessed. You glanced over at the drummer, who was sitting down in a folding chair. “Does he have a heavy metal stage name, too?”

“I’m the Reverend Tholomew Plague,” the drummer grinned. “But, my friends call me Rev.” 

“Hi, Rev,” you chuckled. “I’m Y/N.” 

“Nice to meet you,” Rev replied. 

“I’m Johnny Christ,” said a third man, who sported a fauxhawk. “Hey, Mikey, thanks again for the assist earlier!” 

“No problem, dude,” Mikey said casually. “Where’d Shadows run off to?”

“He went to get drinks for everybody,” Zacky told him. “I’ll text him, and tell him to bring two extra, for you guys.” 

“Thanks,” you smiled. 

Just then, a summer breeze blew through the backstage area, sending Syn’s hat, flying off his head. 

“Shit!” Syn swore, watching his hat blow further away, back onto the main stage. “This is why I hate outdoor venues.” 

“I’ll go get that for you,” you offered. 

“Thanks,” Syn said gratefully. “Quick, before it blows over the barricade!” 

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

You ducked past the crew members, who were taking down Avenged Sevenfold’s banners, and preparing the stage for the next band. The Offspring, if you weren’t mistaken, were supposed to go on in an hour. 

A tech was taking down Rev’s drum kit, and setting up Atom Willard’s. You spotted the hat, next to the bass drum. 

“Excuse me,” you muttered. The drum tech got out of your way, and let you take the hat. 

“Oh my god!” you heard a fan gasp, who was still by the barricade. “That’s Y/N, from MCR!” 

You turned, looking at the gaggle of teenagers. They had probably stuck around, so they didn’t lose their front row seats. 

“Y/N!” a second fan called out. “Will you please sign my shirt?” 

“Sure,” you smiled. You leaned over the edge of the stage, taking a marker that was held out to you. You signed your name on the blushing teen’s band shirt. 

“Thank you so much!” he gasped. “I can’t wait to see you and the guys perform tonight!” 

“Thank you for coming to see us,” you replied. 

“Y/N, will you sign my ticket stub?” another fan pleaded. 

“Yeah, why not?” you acquiesced. You stayed by the barricade for a few moments, signing autographs, and posing for pictures. 

“Alright, guys,” you said finally. “I really do need to go give Synyster his hat back.” 

“Ok!” the fans said agreeably. “Thank you for taking time for us! Say hi to Gerard and Frankie for us when you see them!” 

“Will do,” you chuckled. The MCRmy were such nice kids. It made you feel special, to be loved by such a great group of people. 

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

You were about to turn the corner, and re-enter the backstage area. But, you froze, when you heard your name. You realized, that the guys were talking about you. 

“So,” you heard Zacky ask, “is Y/N single?” 

“Uh….,” Mikey hesitated. “Yeah, as far as I know, she’s not seeing anyone.” 

“That’s surprising,” Syn commented. “She’s, like, really pretty.” 

“If I asked her out,” Zacky wondered, “do you think she’d say yes?” 

What?!, you stifled a gasp. Zacky was interested in you?

“No!” Mikey blurted out. “You definitely don’t want to do that!” 

“Why not?” you snapped, revealing herself. “You think I’d be a super annoying person to date?” 

“Y/N?” Mikey gasped, turning his head around, towards you. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough,” you frowned. “Why are you warning people not to ask me out? Am I that unattractive, when I don’t have my stage makeup on?” 

“No!” Mikey said quickly. “Fuck, that’s not what I meant, either!” 

“Then, what did you mean?” you demanded. 

“I….,” Mikey trailed off, his whole face turning red. “I can’t tell you.” 

“Bullshit,” you barked. “Here’s your stupid hat, Syn.” 

You practically threw it at the guitarist, then turned, and began walking away. 

“Where are you going?” Mikey cried, following you. 

“Back to the bus!” you growled, walking faster. 

“Y/N, please, slow down!” Mikey begged, jogging to keep up with you. 

“No! Buzz off!” you told him. Your cheeks burned. 

Does he think I’d be a shitty, clingy girlfriend? you wondered. Why would he tell some complete stranger, that I’m not worth dating? I should’ve known...he’d never be interested in me. 

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

You climbed back onto the bus, and immediately threw yourself into your bunk. You pulled the curtains around you, as if you were going to sleep. 

Mikey pulled the curtain back again, and sat beside you. 

“Can we please talk?” he implored you. 

“What is there to talk about?” you huffed. 

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” Mikey said gently. “Look...do you really want to date Zacky? If that’s what will make you happy….I’ll go back there, and I’ll tell him to shoot his shot. I can even give him your number.” 

“I don’t want to date Zacky,” you confessed. 

I want to date you, you stupid man. You wished you could tell him that, but you didn’t have the guts. But, that will never happen. 

“I didn’t tell Zacky, not to ask you out, because I think you’re annoying, or unattractive,” Mikey explained. 

“Then, why did you say it?” you demanded, wiping tears on your sleeve. 

“I said it because….,” Mikey hesitated. 

“Spit it out,” you insisted. 

“I said it, because I wanted to ask you out myself,” Mikey said finally. 

“Wh…..What?!”

“I’ve been trying to find the balls, to ask you out, all summer,” Mikey confessed, reddening. “But, I could never find the right time, or the words. I’m an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot,” you said softly, moving closer to him. 

“I have no right, to tell you who to be with,” Mikey sighed. “Y/N, I hope I haven’t ruined our friendship, by telling you how I feel about you. I understand, if you aren’t interested in…”

“I’m interested,” you interrupted. 

“Huh?” Mikey’s eyes widened behind his glasses. 

“I’ve been interested in you for a long time,” you confessed. “I just didn’t have the balls to tell you, either.”

We’re both idiots. 

You leaned over, and lay your lips on his. He kissed you back, eagerly grabbing you, pulling you closer. You kissed him, again, and again. 

“....So,” Mikey gasped breathlessly, coming up for air, “does this mean you and I are dating now?”

“Now,” you grinned, grabbing him by the collar, “and forever.”

[emerald-amidst-gold]

‘Tis long, and the path is dark

What even is that title? Honestly, it’s just in reference to how incredibly long this one shot is. (or could it be a prelude to smut? I’ll never tell~) 

Have some stupid men being soft and guilt laden and just fucking tender! *cries* (I’ll probably make a collection on AO3 for all of these since I just keep spitting them out like cherry pits.)

Pairing: Solavellan (... *shrugs*)

Warnings: None. Except if you’re allergic to feather pillows because this shit is soft! 

Fane found solace in the highness of his chambers. While others - be it messengers or his inner circle - found it disorienting and uncomfortable, he felt warmth and nostalgia amid the chilliness of the mountain and the vertigo invoked from looking down upon the world - well, it was merely just Skyhold and the surrounding mountains, but he supposed that was his world for now.

Nighttime was the most optimal time for Fane to indulge in this particular pleasure of his because the air around Skyhold was far cooler, and despite the darkness, he could see far more than he could during the day - the sun obstructing a lot of his vision from the glare it invoked. 

Tonight was one such night where Fane found himself outside along one of the balconies of his quarters, elbows resting on the stone railing - able to detect the coolness of the surface even through his leather wraps. The air was just as cool, and crisp as he took in a deep breath - letting it out slowly to create a puff of condensed air to which it only cropped up more feelings of nostalgia within his soul.  Emerald eyes shone a pale gold, but not from his own abilities, but rather from the equally as pale glow from the moon in the night sky - its familiarity comforting in the fact that it would always stay the same, unlike the rest of the world which was familiar yet unfamiliar to him. Yes - this was his sanctuary amid a tumultuous storm, and he basked in its stillness where it was otherwise absent. 

“Calm. Quiet. Still. All of which are lost during the day are made apparent under night’s shadowed heart.”, he whispered out softly, eyes narrowing as a frigid breeze kissed his skin and ruffled his already messy hair. 

Fane relished in moments of stillness because they were all too rare, especially with how the world was today. The world to him was chaotic, yet dull. Loud, yet silent. Bright, yet dim. However, it was nowhere near black and white; it was grey - both morally and figuratively speaking. During the day, he found it difficult to keep impending insanity at bay with how much such contradiction infuriated him - the schism of the Fade and waking world causing his draconic nature to thrash and roar with the desire to correct. While during the evening, his mind became still, clear, as a quiet pond did after a thunderous storm - delicate ripples along dark waters the only indication there was yet life beneath its depths. 

In short, he was more connected to what should be during the night time - his nature able to satisfyingly click into place from the sensation of frigid air, and the scent of earthy snow.  

“Ah, I should have known this is where you were.”, a calm, familiar, and welcome voice had Fane glancing over his shoulder from where he was gazing up at the moon to see Solas standing in the balcony’s doorway with a small, yet fond smile gracing his lips. 

Fane offered the elf a tiny smile of his own before turning his gaze back up to the moon to observe its surface once more, “You just come up, then?”, he asked with no accusation in his voice. 

“I did.”, Solas confirmed his question before sighing tiredly, “Your sister is quite passionate in our discussions; she had me losing track of time until I noticed my candle was nearly spent.”

Fane snorted softly at that. Yes, that sounded about right to him. While he was pleased Mhairi had finally opened up to Solas a bit, it still grated on his nerves how the two would bicker endlessly about whatever struck their fancy at the moment - Mhairi normally gravitating towards ‘educating’ Solas about Dalish customs and elven culture, while Solas ‘passively’ shot down each of her bits of information with his own take, albeit most was from actual experience, but it still sent his sister into a fit of passionate arguing which would then spur Solas to become more short tempered. Honestly, the two could probably be fast friends if they didn’t bring history and culture into the mix; that was what Fane observed through their interactions, at any rate. 

“More Dalish wisdom, I’m guessing?”, Fane asked absently, emerald eyes softening as he saw a twinkling star just past the glow of the moon. 

“More or less, but your sister is bright, even if most of her information is born from half truths. Though, that is not her fault, I suppose.”, Solas said, his voice dropping into a slightly more somber tone. 

Fane picked up on the guilt surrounding those words, spurring him to turn his gaze away from the sky to look over his shoulder once more. He saw that Solas had a pensive expression as stormy eyes, which looked more pale from the moon light, were turned downcast to stare at the stone beneath his feet. The sorrow laced in pale blue had Fane letting out a tiny sigh, a small frown etching itself onto his face.

“It is not your fault, either, Solas. It was an unforeseeable consequence of a necessary action.”, Fane attempted to console, tapping a gloved finger against the railing. 

“You have more faith in that statement than I ever will, vhenan.”, Solas told him with a sad smile before pushing off of the doors archway in an indication he was going back inside. 

“Hold on.”, Fane called out softly and suddenly, eyes watching as Solas halted immediately, the mage turning to look at him with a curious expression.

“Hm?” Solas tilted his head slightly before he slowly made his way back to the doorway.

Fane couldn’t help but chuckle fondly at the sight of perplexity on Solas’s usually calm expression. This was another thing he enjoyed about the evening; the vulnerability that both he and Solas would show when the world wasn’t scrutinizing their every move, every interaction, every word. It was a time where they could be..well, them. They could be Solas and Fane; not ‘that apostate’ and Inquisitor. Most of all, they could care for each other without fear of snide remarks or ignorant judgment. It was a sanctuary as much as the rest of night was to Fane; a sanctuary where they could be free. 

“Vhenan?”, Solas called to him worriedly, supposedly from his silence. 

Fane blinked in surprise before clearing his throat awkwardly. Damn, he really needed to stop getting lost in his mind so much.

“Sorry. Just lost in thought for a minute.”, he explained with a reassuring smirk before beckoning to the elf with a tiny jerk of a few gloved fingers. “Come here.”

Solas stared at him in slight bewilderment before slowly making his way out to where Fane was still leaning against the railing. Fane waited until Solas was standing next to him to turn his gaze back up at the moon, softly closing his eyes despite the way he could feel Solas staring at him in question.

“Observe and accept.”, he began with a calm tone, slowly reopening his eyes to examine the stars once more, “Those were the first words taught to me when I was a dragon.”

Fane felt Solas come closer to him when he began speaking, their shoulders brushing together as the mage lightly leant against him. He waited for several moments to see if Solas would say something before he felt right to continue.

“Observe the world around you, and accept that which occurs within its boundaries is natural. Those were the basic fundamentals of my kin.”, he explained before chuckling dryly, “However, there was another basis that was seemingly lost like most information regarding dragons. A basis that would seemingly contradict our roles.”

“Which basis is that?”, Solas asked him quietly, voice curious, but tender as it engaged him.

Fane slowly turned his head away from the sky to gaze down at Solas, who was watching him raptly, but he could see the well of pure adoration in the other man’s eyes. He had to momentarily shift his emerald gaze away from that spring of emotion to compose himself before looking back into stormy blue once more. Fane may be a dragon of emotions, but that didn’t mean he was immune to them, if anything he was more susceptible to them due to his new form - it being far more complex than a dragon’s sheer continuity of endurance. So, sometimes looking into another’s eyes - especially Solas’s - was like receiving the haft of a greataxe to the stomach - the sheer force behind its swing knocking the air out of his lungs with one brutal gesture. It wasn’t as painful as the actual thing, but it was..overwhelming, at times. 

With a steadying, quiet sigh, Fane readied himself for the original point of this discussion in the first place. Right, now wasn’t the time for him to get sidetracked in his head again. 

“Doubt.”, he said simply after a few moments, watching as Solas’s eyes gently searched his face for understanding before the pale blue orbs turned downcast, a tentative hand coming up to delicately place itself on top of Fane’s.

“That would be contradictory, but it is understandable. It is not wrong to doubt the information that you see. It allows you to grow, to change your point of view based on fresh information you may gather that would rend old truths to dust..”, Solas murmured softly, idly stroking his hand in a soothing gesture - Fane was unsure if it was more for him or for Solas himself.

Fane watched Solas’s hand stroke his own for several moments before he gently took it into his own, lacing their fingers together slowly to which the mage responded without hesitation by giving Fane’s hand a firm squeeze. 

“Precisely. It is in every beings’ nature to doubt because they wish to understand why things happen, or why people are the way they are.”, he said, voice practically a whisper as he felt Solas lean into him more, “It is also within every beings’ nature to doubt themselves, even when others do not.”, his intended point beginning to take shape. 

“Are you saying you..doubted your own words from before?”, Solas asked him, genuinely sounding puzzled.

Fane could feel Solas’s stare once more, even as his own stayed fixated on their entwined hands - idly noting the slight difference in size before sighing with a shake of his head. 

“No, my statements referring to your own actions were born from doubt.”, he explained, lifting their entwined hands to lay a light kiss against the back of Solas’s before locking eyes with the man next to him, “Look, I spent months after regaining a series of my memories simply doubting everything. I doubted what I saw and heard when I otherwise believed I understood everything this world had to offer. I doubted myself for the body that I chose thinking it was a sinful mistake until I observed more that allowed me to accept it that while it wasn’t natural, it wasn’t wrong, either..”, he rambled off slowly before laying a firmer kiss against Solas’s hand before murmuring against it tenderly, “..And I doubted you before I accepted your actions, Solas.”

That was the truth of it. After Fane had begun to regain his memories, he had spent a considerable amount of time thinking and attempting to understand everything about himself and the world around him - his draconic nature finally clicking into place to leave him feeling confused about it all. Solas had been no exception to his doubting nature, even if the elven man was incredibly dear to him. 

The first few months after the two had ‘reunited’, Fane had observed how Solas had attempted to keep him at arm’s length, as if the mere presence of the dragon were painful to him. At times, Fane had believed Solas was disgusted by him, much like the Evanuris had been in the past. After all, time changed people, and not always for the better. He was not the same by any stretch of the imagination, and Solas’s avoidance of him had made Fane believe the elven god was sickened by the form he had chosen.

However, as more time passed, and the more Fane observed, he could tell that there was a..weight bearing down on his sky - a heavy rain cloud in an otherwise clear sky. That was when the doubt began to rear its head. 

He doubted Solas would have suddenly begun to simply despise him - especially after the various times the elven mage had treated him softly, even when neither knew who Fane truly was, thus making him back peddle and reassess what could have Solas acting so distant from someone he constantly stated he cherished, even as grief flashed like lightning within stormy blue. 

The more Fane dug into the matter through his own ventures in the Fade, the more dirt he unveiled, and the more the actual core made itself known to the point where he finally remembered the moments leading up to his ‘death’, and the effect it had had on the elven god. It had helped Fane finally bridge the gap between the two of them to where centuries buried confessions were finally given life. 

So, in reference to Solas erecting the Veil, Fane had done the exact same thing; he had doubted, and it had allowed him to accept the truth that Solas still stubbornly denied. The truth that what Solas had done was by no means natural, but it was inevitably necessary, despite the damage it caused. If Fane had still been alive during it all, perhaps he could have intervened to where the damage wouldn’t have been so costly, but he had not, and he had accepted that. Just as he had accepted the reasons behind Solas’s decision pertaining to the creation in the first place. The past could not be unwritten, but the future born from it could be used to restore, albeit in a different manner.

Fane felt Solas lean into him even more, the mage resting his head against his broad shoulder to gaze out over the expanse of mountains before opening his mouth to speak.

“I am not sure if what you say is a compliment or a slight..”, Solas murmured, more to the air than to Fane himself.

Fane snorted amusedly before giving Solas’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

“It’s really neither. It’s merely the truth. Doubt is a guide, even when it seems to make us stray.”, he said before closing his eyes to let the mountain air wash over him once more, “I doubted the safety of the edge I pondered to leap over.” 

“Yet, you still leapt.”, Solas stated, chancing a glance up at him with a somber, but tender gaze. 

Fane opened his eyes slowly at the feel of Solas’s own before offering the man a tiny smile - delicately disconnecting their hands to cup a cheek tenderly. Solas leaned into his touch with a small smile of his own. 

“I leapt over a different edge because the one I had originally chosen to leap from proved to be laden with spikes at its bottom.”, he amended Solas’s statement with firmness before leaning down to put their foreheads together softly. “I am not one to jump blindly into ruin, Solas, despite evidence to the contrary. I hold fast to what I believe in because it has come from centuries of observation - from centuries of observing you. If you had truly done what you did because you wished to inflict harm voluntarily, then my nature would have intervened the moment I reunited with you - unaware of my heritage or not. I would have killed you on sight.”, squeezing the hand interlocked with his once more as his face hardened with resolve, “And if you were ever to stray without first doubting your actions like I do, then I would kill you. As I would wish for you to kill me should insanity take my mind once more.” 

He watched as Solas’s eyes went slightly wide before cool hands came up to cup his jaw, a look of stifling anguish cracking the mage’s otherwise calm facade. Fane continued to stare into deep pools of blue despite the same amount of pain he felt from his own words. Again, they were not a compliment or an insult; they were the truth - the bitter truth.

“Ar lath ma.. Ar lath ma..”, Solas whispered to him with a slight shake to his voice before pulling him down to press their foreheads together more flush. “Ar lath ma, ma’isenatha.. I..I will not let what happened happen again..”, the words housing as much emotion as stormy eyes did - a depth that would put the ocean to shame.  

Fane hummed lovingly, bringing his arms around Solas’s waist to pull the man to rest against his body lightly. A strange yearning began to stir in chest at Solas’s words of affection, spurring him to voice his own in a way he normally never did.

“That’s why I know - without a doubt - that those circumstances will never come to pass. You won’t stray from the path because you are smarter than that, Solas. So, let yourself rest, if only in my arms. No guilt, no shame. Just rest.”, he whispered with a gentle voice before humming in consideration before his voice dropped even lower. “Ar lath ma.”, he spoke the elven as if he had a thousand times - the words like silk as they flowed as fluently as the man’s in his arms did. 

He felt Solas go rigid in his arms, blue eyes going wide with surprise, but also..adoration before the elf’s stiff body relaxed with a shudder. Fane merely smiled an uncommon tender smile as he maneuvered his head to begin laying soft kisses along Solas’s jaw. He knew what his usage of elven did to the other man. It was akin to when Fane himself would hear Solas - in the wee hours of the morning - speak the same language to him with reverence and respect. It sparked life in them as a deluge allowed a field of flowers to bloom unbidden.

“Ar lath ma.. Ar lath ma..”, Solas continued to whisper to him - pulling away slightly to bury his face in Fane’s shoulder to continue the adoring mantra. 

“Ar lath ma..”, Fane whispered once more as two natures - so contradictory, yet so seamless - intertwined from the guidance of frozen winds that echoed the feeling of home to him.

The eve was a sanctuary, but not from the storm. It was a sanctuary for the storm; the once turbulent clouds allowing themselves to weep into the earth. Fane would be the sun scorched earth, if only to partake in a sorrowful drink. He would weather the storm, he would accept its flood, and at last, he would allow the sky to clear and rest. 

Emerald eyes slipped shut as Fane pulled Solas closer, resting his chin on the man’s head as quiet sobs reached his ears, his mouth barely moving as he uttered sudden words. 

“The sky shall rest in the earth’s embrace as the moon shadows, but illuminates. Do not hide. Do not run. For soon the sun will signal the judgement of dawn.”, the words like the whisper of wind as they fell from his lips.

No shame, no guilt, no judgement. Those were the concepts that Fane truly adored about the night, as much as he adored the man silently sobbing in his arms. He knew tomorrow would bring more shame, more guilt, and more judgement, but tonight - tonight they would rest under the moon’s all - knowing gaze, knowing that secrets were kept in a pale haze.

******

(Yes, I know Fane is slightly hard to interpret. He understands the costs of the world, and accepts them. Does he support whole scale slaughter? No, but he sees that people will do what they must to accomplish what they believe to be right. He’s pragmatic, and he tries to steer Solas gently, but he doesn’t violently shove him. He just supports him however he can because in this universe, Fane knows Solas. There are no false pretenses between them, so vulnerability is a defining aspect of their relationship.)

[arrtemisia]

Hey so... If you could redo cannon Makoto what would you do? How would she change? I'm curious cause out of the main cast she was the only one that I just couldn't get a solid interest in (aside from Ann but that's just cause the idea of her being a fashion model confuses me more than anything I think)

God. So much stuff.

There's a couple big things about her that bug me, and none of them really change at all in her canon vs fanon portrayal, which means it's hard for me to enjoy her even in fanworks. In my opinion, I think her biggest flaw is that she's simply miscast, and her character would have worked much better as a confidant instead of a thief, which would've given her a place of her own to shine and avoid the weird dissonance between different aspects of her character (and this was actually their original plan, so Hifumi would have taken her place which. She would've fit in much better imo bc she's actually suffered under another's will like every single one of the others and she's an actual strategist instead of just """smart,""' but that's a topic for another post), but since we're talking about how I'd personally fix Makoto in the role she currently fills, I'm going to list some of the issues I take with her and potential solutions.

First of all, just to get it out of the way, she needs an actual reason to be here. She doesn't have one, full stop.

The big thing tying the thieves together is that they're all victims of abuse and oppression who rebel against their tormentors and want to prevent anyone else from suffering like they did. I'm not saying Makoto has never struggled, because she has, but it's really, really not the same type of struggle.

This leads to weird moments where everything about Makoto's personality and characterization, such as being a stickler for the rules, idolizing the police, etc mean that she has no in-character reason to stick with the thieves after kaneshiro is dealt with and should maybe even be opposing the thieves' way of doing things, but the plot drags her along anyway because the game really wants her to be a party member. And really, what's up with her awakening? She gets threatened once and then bang-boom-kapow she has a persona? It's weak.

Also before anyone says "well all those things about her personality change when she awakens and she sheds her good girl personality and yada yada," no she doesn't, actually, and I'm getting there I promise

The easiest solution here is also the most drastic. Swap when Makoto and Akechi join. This kills two birds with one stone; Makoto gets an actual reason to awaken through Sae, and Akechi's betrayal hits harder because he's pretending to be with you for longer (although admittedly this is much less needed on Akechi's part ever since royal).

Not only does this give Makoto a much stronger reason to awaken and join in the first place (Sae starts twisting into something horrible and Makoto wants to help both stop and save her), but it also gives her an internally consistent reason to stick around. Before, unlike the others (who all at least have "I want to stop others from feeling like I did," or in Futaba's case, "I wanna find the ppl who killed my mom."), once Kaneshiro is done with, Makoto has no real big personal reason to stick around other than "I'm a thief now and the plot says so ig." Now, of COURSE she'd want to go after Shido because he's the one that was manipulating her sister, and after that of COURSE she'd want to help take down mr divine sippy cup in order to get Shido tried and jailed.

However, if we're not going to shuffle around the order of party members bc that'd nuke the canon plot a little, then we need to rework the entire Kaneshiro arc and/or Makoto's backstory and values as a whole. Yeah this is why the first solution was the easy one.

I'm going to go in-depth about how I feel Makoto's personality and values should be reworked later I'M GETTING THERE, so I'll talk about that then. As for reworking Kaneshiro, I... don't have a whole lot of ideas. The palace itself is fine, it has one of the coolest atmospheres in the game (c'mon, there's got to be a fun bank heist in a game like this), but Makoto's connection with him is very weak. Maybe have it be that he was extorting her for years in secret and she never said anything? Maybe have him be the one that ordered the hit on her father? I'm not sure what would be strong enough to match to the other palace leaders, without feeling forced. I'll have to come up with more ideas for this one.

The second big issue I have with her is less of one specific thing and more of a collection of smaller problems that all come from the same source. She waltzes in, takes over, and starts acting like she's the boss of things. She then names herself the "strategist" and yet only ever states the obvious and, to use a word I hate, mansplains things to you that you already learned two palaces ago. She's constantly condescending and passive agressive to the other team members, especially Ann and Ryuji, berates everyone for not being as naturally book smart as her when all the other characters are smart in their own ways and just not good at academia, all the while everyone around her, even characters that normally wouldn't take that (ryuji, ann) or are too prideful to admit to anyone bring better (mona), are constantly like "You're so cool, Makoto!"

It's a classic case of show don't tell, and rhe game is obsessed with telling you that Makoto is "smart" and "cool." Once she joins the team, all the characters that were originally shown to be smart in their own ways are never allowed to say anything meaningful ever again bc Makoto is the "smart" one. She never does anything particularly different compared to the other party members, but the game is constantly insisting she's special.

I'm very hesitant to call her a mary sue, because I don't think she is one, and also I disagree with the use of that term at all as these days it's just meant to devalue powerful characters that happen to be girls, but I definitely think she's emblematic of a common writing flaw that can lead to mary sues. The problem with making a character the "smart" one as a personality trait instead of something that just comes naturally is that you have to dumb down everyone else's characterization to make them look smarter or cooler by comparison. It means that the character you're trying to prop up bends everyone else around them, making them act in ways they normally wouldn't in order to make the one character you're trying to look cool seem better by comparison.

This has an easy solution: cut that shit out. Have her slowly find her place on the team naturally instead of forcing her way in as a pseudo-leader. Don't give every single "well, duh" line to her, and cut the scenes where she stands around explaining obvious things you already know in a condescending manner so she looks smarter. Let the other characters actually act like themselves when they're in the same room as her instead of bending around her to prop her up. Have her treat those characters with respect in turn, bc for all intents and purposes when it comes to thief stuff they are her senpai, instead of just having her act like she's better than them, or boss them around, or be passive agressive about the fact that their grades are bad. Show that other characters are smart in other ways instead of acting like Makoto's book smarts are the end-all be-all. And for fuck's sake, stop acting like "smart" and "punches stuff real good" are personality traits, which leads me into my last big point.

Makoto and Queen don't really feel like the same character. Okay, so to explain this, let's walk through her awakening again.

Makoto is a good girl who's a stickler for the rules, sucks up to authority, idolizes the police, is obsessed with her grades and academic performance, and looks down on others who don't do the same. A couple people call her useless and then she gets threatened by a mob boss, after which she decides to live her life for herself and completely shed her good girl lifestyle and rebel against everyone pressuring her.

That is, except for the teensy tiny detail where she doesn't.

Nothing significant about her personality changes all post her awakening and joining the thieves, aside from the part where she sucks up to authority maybe a little less. She's still uptight, her grades (and the grades of those on her team) are still her top priority, she still idolizes the law and those enforcing it.

Y'see, persona has a bit of a common problem with saying one thing about a character, be it making a reveal or saying they're gonna change in some big way, but not fully committing to it. You can see it most in p4 (party members saying they're gonna quit/stop/do whatever and then backtracking in the last two ranks of their social link), but it's rarely so severe that it completely ruins their personality and character arc as a whole. Makoto, I feel, is the main exception.

The writers want Makoto to become this tough, rebellious biker queen who oozes badassery in every move and will never follow anyone's wishes for her ever again, but they also want to keep her old personality of the uptight naive rule-following law-abiding academic. So, instead of altering one to better fit the other, they try to do both... badly.

Instead of integrating the two parts of her personality, it just feels like she swaps between them whenever the plot calls for it which is really, really jarring. She'll be stuttering about following the rules and getting to know her generation one second, and then the next she'll be yelling about mowing down shadows with her motorcyle the next. It feels like Queen and Makoto are two separate uninteresting half-characters, with only a couple personality traits each, instead of one whole well-rounded character.

Either rework Makoto's thief aesthetic to better suit her personality as a whole and give her something other than "I'm totally not a good girl anymore" to make her compelling, or actually commit to Makoto shedding her past life everyone around her had forced on her and change her personality. Have her grades start to slip, have her talk back to Sae, change the way she dresses so it's rougher and less perfect, hell, maybe even have her quit student council. Just, anything to make her more well-rounded as a character.

I have some other nitpicks with her here and there, like the fact that her confidant is actually just Eiko's confidant and doesn't give Makoto herself any development, or the way the game keeps trying to set her up as Joker's waifu or whatever, but those are just that; nitpicks. The three big things I mentioned earlier - her not having a compelling personal reason to be a part of the thieves, the way the writers shove her into the spotlight by putting down everyone around her, and the fact that her characterization is just one badass half and one smart half that don't mesh and have little else in between - are the problems I feel are what's actually holding her character back.

Again, I do think that all of this stems from the fact that she's miscast, but it's too late to fix that now. While I personally really dislike Makoto, I do kind of understand her appeal for others when she's written well, and she's a totally valid character to like. I just wish she was portrayed better.

(Also, if anyone wants to reblog this, feel free I ask that you please don't put this in Makoto's main character tag. I know how much it sucks to get a bunch of negativity in a character's main tags as I am an Edelgard fe3h fan)

[gavillain]

Thoughts on the Loki tv show then?

Short version: I'm liking it! I fully expected to hate the show given that I hated almost everything they did with Loki in the MCU after Dark World. However, they're doing a pretty good job. I think overall, it's a mixed bag for me, but a mixed bag is so much better than I was expecting that I'm very happy with it. Episode 3 really was a big step up after the first two eps and I hope future episodes continue.

Now if you want the long version, I've been writing up my thoughts after each episode to share on a private forum, so I'll copy and paste under the cut. Also spoilers galore past this point:

Ep.1 "Glorious Purpose" Loki himself is the big important thing so I'm gonna talk about him first, and I was both happy and disappointed with his characterization here. Let me explain. Tom Hiddleston obviously plays everything perfectly, and he did a great job on every moment. But the writing on Loki's character is pretty inconsistent. There were a LOT of moments that genuinely felt like they were right out of the golden era of MCU Loki that captured his speech patterns perfectly, his mannerisms, his world view, his humor. Those moments were legitimately there, and they were there more often than I was expecting. Ragnarok had Loki written wrong down to the dialogue and his manner of speaking, and so it was actually very refreshing to see him written generally well, particularly in his conversations with Agent Mobius. However there were multiple moments where he was blatantly written out of character to pander to jokes or to dip into that Ragnarok jokey joke tone. I audibly groaned at the "Am I robot" bit, which was SUCH low brow human and so not in line with the fact that Loki literally knows exactly what he is and had a "species reveal" that was very important to his character. I also would have liked him to be a little more violent. This man came out of a portal, saw SHIELD agents threatening him and immediately went into kill mode in Avengers. Yet this guy stands around and lets himself be taken and forced into situations a lot. But overall, I was happy with his general characterization because I expected the bad stuff to be much worse and it wasn't and the good stuff was more plentiful than I expected. I wasn't fond of the "I don't enjoy hurting people" bit because it's weepy and wrong, but it also was an expected development and I do appreciate that they're at least delving deep into his character on an intellectual level and playing off that "Always so perceptive about everyone but yourself" line of Frigga's. There's potential to do something interesting with him here, so I'm intrigued if not convinced. The Time Keepers concept I hate, but I think I hate it because Loki ALSO hates it and we're a bit too alike in a few regards even here XD I just kind of wish it was less bureaucratic and "we're a joke about corporate offices" and was something more mystical and other worldly. I feel like if it was more science fantasy and ethereal feeling, I would probably be a lot more down for it. But I guess you gotta save money somehow. Agent Mobius is likable, and I like how he can go toe to toe with Loki and how he's kind of morally neutral. I called that Loki was the dangerous time variant disrupting the timeline before it was revealed, but I have to wonder why in the final scene they kept his face hidden. That would have been a great opportunity to show Hiddles hamming up the evil bloodlust, and I am HUNGRY for that. But they kept that Loki hidden in shadows for a reason, and I have two theories regarding why: 1. It actually ISN'T Loki and Agent Mobius is wrong and our villain is someone else. 2. Our villain is LADY Loki and they're saving the reveal that villain Loki is a woman for a later episode. We'll see if I'm right. I HOPE it's number 2 if they kept him in shadow for a reason. So yeah. Not exactly what I wanted but we're on the right track at least for now. I hope this track leads somewhere interesting.

Ep.2 "The Variant" So, first things first, this episode had "I Need a Hero" during a fight scene and TOTALLY botched it. It was way too early to play that card, the action didn't sync with the battle, and it was between a few nameless TVA agents and the evil Loki with the evil Loki still masked in shadow and not really doing much. It just lacked the OOMPH that I felt was necessary for it to be satisfying. This should have been done better. Loki characterization update: less good and less bad than episode one at the same time. There was no "Am I a robot?" cringe, but there was a lot less of the really good Loki dialogue that caught my attention in episode 1. His seemed to have kinda settled back to the mediocrity of Ragnarok Loki with occasional moments of intrigue such as his whole bit about a wolf's ears and teeth. Loki's obviously planning to overthrow the time keepers and to become the new master of time, and he even says as much to his alternate counterpart this episode. I have a sick feeling they're going to have him grow to like the TVA and to save the time stream, but I really want him to follow through with his plans because I think that's much more interesting than the alternative. Will they do it? Time will tell. I also like how much he utterly does not give a shit about Mobius's condolences about Ragnarok happening. That was a good touch. Speaking of Mobius, I still don't care for him or the TVA. They're all just very boring to me, and I don't like Loki being caged to follow their bidding. It's restraining a hurricane of excitement by forcing it to play within this very structured framework instead of burning through freely. With Loki escaping into the timestream to chase after the other Loki, hopefully that will change for the better next episode. Mobius himself gets his character expanded a bit, but his expansion is literally that he is just a cog who doesn't question his purpose and does what he does because it's what he's told to do. And that's just not compelling to me. Sidebar: Ravona, Kang the Conqueror's lover, is the head of the TVA. A fun tidbit but where's Kang? I like the way the episode explored how time variants can't happen during massive catastrophes and apocalypses because everyone dies and everything gets destroyed, so they're safe places for time variants to hide and interact with history. I enjoyed Loki and Mobius going back and messing with Pompeii right before Vesuvius erupts to test that theory. That was fun (though I wish Loki would have, instead of just acting silly and making a scene, would have done his "Kneel before me" bit on the Pompeiians or something more villainous). And I liked the whole aesthetic of them exploring a massive hurricane in Alabama in 2050 and the whole aesthetic going on there. It gave the episode an epic quality. The evil Loki was revealed in this episode, and the twist is that she's Lady Loki. Yeah, I called it. She hasn't done much herself yet and we haven't seen her do much except posses the bodies of various others and then break the timeline with multiple sprawling timeline variants, both of which is very cool. I'm excited for her, though my biggest complaint is that she has blonde hair. No. Lady Loki has BLACK hair. Why didn't they stick her in a black wig or have the actress dye her hair??? AMORA is the blonde Asgardian villainess. Lady Loki has the same hair color as Loki. And... look, I know it's a dumb detail to get hung up on, but the black hair matters to me because Loki has black hair and his beautiful female form does too and I always liked that for personal reasons. Also, she doesn't want to be called "Loki" apparently which is weird but okay, so what DOES she want to be called? I swear if they name her Amora or Sigyn, I'm gonna throw something.

But yeah, the next episode I think promises to be a change of pace, and we can see if Loki can truly spread his wings free of the TVA. I hope he does.

Ep.3 "Lamentis" This was the best episode yet! And for MULTIPLE reasons. This episode sees Loki and Lady Loki Sylvie stranded together in time. It was away from the TVA and it's boring qualities, which was great, and it put two very interesting characters in a situation where they had to rely on each other. This is more of what I was HOPING we'd get from the show. It's a lot more engaging and fun. The TVA always feel like they have their boot on our necks, and having that boot gone, it's amazing how much easier it is to breathe. And I honestly think that was intentional too with regards to how Sylvie outright calls them tyrannical fascist time police. The whole thing with Loki and Sylvie being stranded on the planet Lamentis during its apocalypse is super cool too. First of all, Lamentis is BEAUTIFULLY designed. I can tell they relied on desert locales to save on the budget, but the purple sky, the colorful train, and the neon alien city are all really pleasing to look at. And with the sky literally falling around them, it looks even cooler and the stakes feel cosmic and intense because they ARE. A very good setting that felt refreshing after the very mundane TVA headquarters and Earth scenes. Loki continues to be a sort of mixed bag with weird moments of humor that feel like they were written by someone else for another character, but those moments were a lot more sparse this time around too. Tom is still unmatched in the role, and I love the way he got to be serious, smug, manipulative, and sincere in this episode. I've kinda accepted and settled into anti-hero Loki for this series, and I'm honestly pretty okay with it here. See, I think my issues with Loki being "good" is that it comes with making amends with Thor or working for the TVA. Seeing him pursuing his own agenda on his own terms and collaborating with a kindred spirit who he seems to genuinely like is a lot easier to stomach because it feels a lot more true to the freedom that is so potent about his villainy. I loved him talking about Frigga and how she taught him her magic. That was a genuinely powerful moment. Also even though his dagger metaphor for love got kinda undercut by a joke, I think it was quite good writing and really cut to the point of what makes Loki tic. Also this episode marks a VERY important moment: Loki was canonized on screen as being bisexual in the MCU. He is the FIRST queer main character in the MCU and the first queer main protagonist of a Disney show. And I like the way they did it too! The way Sylvie asked about if he had any dalliances with princesses and then adds "or princes" and Loki says "a bit of both." It was simple and direct and unambiguous, and I love it because Loki has always BEEN queer in the MCU and the writing for him has been very queercoded. Even if that little moment is all it amounts to, it really matters and means a lot to me that they did it and I'm so happy for it. I hope they give him a boyfriend though. Like PLEEEEASE Marvel. Sylvie I'm more okay with this time around. She IS established as Sylvie and not really identifying as Loki anymore, so I can separate her from my preconception of Lady Loki and not mind the BLONDE so much. Sylvie is the name of the second Enchantress in the comics, an Enchantress that Loki himself created. I'm interested to see where they go with her backstory and who she is and what her deal is because they've been implying that she differs from the main Loki quite a lot to the point where she barely even remembers who Frigga was. I also like that Loki's response to the bisexual question implies that Sylvie is bi too. Get that MLM/WLW solidarity. I hope they don't ship them, but I hope they DO stay friends and allies because I'm loving their friendship chemistry. Also, a minor thing in the grand scheme of this episode, but Loki SINGS in this one! And I love it! Tom's always had a very pretty voice that he's gotten to show off in other roles so I'm glad he got to show off his singing in this role too. The Norse folk song he sings was both jovial and somber all at once, and I

loved it. We deserved this Minor nitpick: please give Loki his Asgardian clothes back or something. Because this TVA suit is fucking ugly and I hate it. Sylvie looks so good next to him, and he deserves to be just as stylish. This was a GREAT turning point. PLEEEEEASE keep it up. F&WS failed to. But I genuinely believe that Loki can do it.

[snarkwrites]

Title: ghosts of christmases past

Theme: holiday party

Fandom / Character(s):Juice Ortiz x OFC! Hazel Morrow.

Warnings: A little bit angsty/bittersweet here. This is kind of Juice and Hazel being stuck on the side of the road together and... internally reflecting on their last christmas together, alone and earlier at the MC. One in particular. Listen, if I’m never gonna write either version of this story, just enjoy these random ass little bits as they come to me, lmaooo. Love you guys.

FYI, the bit in italics is Haze having a bit of a flashback. This ties to the theme, I promise.. It’s theme adjacent...

I made the moodboard thing. Don’t steal or repost/claim as your own.

Word Count: uhh.. 300 to 700+, roughly.

My last intention was for this to... Turn angsty and bittersweet. But alas, here we are.. But don’t fret, it ends kinda.. somewhat happily.

Also, again.. I made the banner for this. Don’t steal or repost.

TAGGING:

@chasingeverybreakingwave @sassymox and @kyleoreillysknee are the only people on my Sons Of Anarchy taglist. If you’d like to be on there, dm my main or this blog or click that link belowa nd add yourself.

also gonna tag bb @champbucks and @12daysofchristmas

[ about my writing | masterlist | multifandom tag doc ]

“Sweetie, can you go with Juice into town? Your brother said that Tig and Chibs are sending him after some things for the party tonight and I need a few things too. I’d do it, but I’m kind of enjoying Grandma time with little bit and your nephews.”

My mom thought she was asking the harmless questions. Apparently, she’d completely forgotten how Juice and I can’t even be in the same room anymore without either a shouting match or awkward silence and heavy tension as the air around us filled to the brim with things that hadn’t been said. 

And all I could think was that this time a few years ago, before I left town, we were so happy. I thought he was it for me. I thought back then that by now, we’d be settled down. That maybe Juice would be working at Teller Morrow and I’d be teaching or something.

I swallowed hard and nodded. My mom wasn’t going to let me out of this and obviously, whatever she needed was important.

She handed me a list and some money. I tried to shove the money back at her, explaining that I’d pay, but she wouldn’t hear it. 

As I went to walk out the door, my mom called out to me. “Juice was a better man than Jase.”

I whirled around, gazing at my mother with my brow raised. “ If this is your way of saying you told me so, Mom… Trust me. Lesson learned.”

“No, I was just suggesting that maybe you use the time you’re out with Juice, you at least attempt to talk to him. I know things went wrong back then, but I also know that if you didn’t still feel something and feel it strongly, you wouldn’t spend so much time picking fights with the poor guy. He doesn’t really have anyone but the club, Hazelynn.”

I opened my mouth but I closed it. My mom had a point. And lately, any fool could see that Juice was really going through it.. He rarely talked to anyone, he was always so damn tense I thought he’d jump right out of his skin. If he did have to interact with me, he was even more tense. Standoffish, even, and that wasn’t like the man I’d known years before. That wasn’t the man I loved. Juice was more easy going and a bit of a joker. Not this tense and serious guy he’d apparently turned into as of late.

I was beyond worried about him. To a point where my own current situation was sort of taking a backseat. But any attempt I’d made to reconnect had been met with annoyance. Bitterness. And deep down, that cut me.

He was literally the one man I’d honestly never wanted to give up back then. But I had to at least try to follow my dreams. I had to at least try living a life free of the MC and it’s dangers and scary situations. I’d just needed a break.

“You know I’m right, Hazelynn. You look at him the way I used to look at Jax’s father. You never wanted to break it off back then. You’re home now. You’re safe. You deserve to be happy. And if Juice makes you happy, maybe you need to stop pushing that down and lean into it. Just a thought, sweetie.”

“Mom, I…”

“No buts. Go. I need everything on that list now, not four hours from now.”

I eyed my mom and after a second or two, I walked out of the kitchen and into the hallway, stopping to put on a light jacket. It wasn’t terribly cold, but I knew it would get cooler the later in the afternoon it got.  I made my way down the hall and into the guest room where I’d put down my little girl Serena earlier after she crashed for her daily nap. I leaned over and brushed my lips against her forehead. “Mommy will be back as soon as she can, okay? Until then, Gramma’s got you. Be sweet, little angel.” I muttered, walking to the door of the bedroom and shutting it quietly behind me so the boys didn’t run in and wake her up.

I’d just walked outside when Juice’s motorcycle as well as my brother’s and Opie’s came to a stop in front of my mother’s house. They were laughing and talking and as usual, the second Juice and I locked eyes, his jaw set and the smile was gone. There was only hurt and bitterness there.

Opie and Jax shared a look and quickly retreated to the inside of our mom’s house and I shuffled my feet, trying to figure out a way to ask if he’d give me a ride to town too. Even though I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the last thing he wanted to do was have me riding behind him on his bike. Even something as simple as an accidental brushing of bodies lately seemed to make him overly annoyed.

And it hurt.

I knew I’d hurt him. I just wanted to make up for that. But so far, he wasn’t willing to let me.

“Are you going into town?” I asked the question tentatively. Juice stopped messing with the bike to look over at me and then he shrugged. “Maybe. Why?”

“My mom, uhh.. She needs some stuff from the grocery. I’d go in my car but it’s kind of sitting in Teller Morrow on a jack right now…” I gave a sheepish look and bit my lip, watching his facial expression as he seemed to take forever mulling it over.

“Fine. I’m leavin now though.”

“I’m all ready to go.” I answered, stepping a little closer. I stared up at him intently, noticing just how pronounced the deep circles seemed to be under his eyes. He clearly hadn’t been sleeping.

,, Oh Juice,” I thought to myself, ,, Why do I feel like there’s something wrong but you stubbornly refuse to reach out.”  

He eyed me and bit his lip. For a few seconds, I almost thought he was going to say something. He looked like he wanted to ask me something so badly that it literally almost came out, but he closed his mouth and cleared his throat, nodding to his motorcycle. “Hold on tight.”

I slipped onto the bike behind him, careful to hold on tight but leave distance. Last thing I wanted was for him to get annoyed because I was leaning against him a little.

The ride into town was quiet, only the sounds of the motor and the wind. I shivered a little, wishing I’d opted for a long sleeve beneath my thin jacket too. I’d forgotten just how chilly it got to ride a motorcycle, because I hadn’t done it in so long.

The lights of town were coming into view when things went downhill quick, fast and in a hurry.

The motorcycle got wobbly and Juice swore, pulling over on the side of the road, near one of the canyons. The wind picked up a bit and I hugged myself. Juice kicked at the motorcycle and dragged a hand over his head. A movement which I spent far too long staring at as my mind just kind of… Drifted.

To a Christmas a few years ago, back before everything went so horribly wrong between us.

XXX

“ Baby girl, wake up.”

The warmth of his breath against my ear had my eyes fluttering open and as soon as I saw the bright midmorning sun, I groaned. “Oh no. Mom is going to absolutely murder me.”

“We both crashed. Question, how dead do you think I’m about to be in Clay Morrow’s eyes, scale of ten?” Juice asked the question as he rushed around, grabbing my clothes for me so I could go and jump in the shower. My head was pounding. I knew the few drinks I had the night before at the MC Christmas party had been a very, very bad idea… Especially when you consider that of my entire family, I’m the one who never does things like this.

But last night had been magical. Cuddling in front of a bonfire with Juice, wrapped in a blanket. Stargazing as we sipped cocoa and later, whiskey… and we just kind of really talked about the future. Where we saw things going.

I didn’t have the heart to tell him that after I graduated in the spring, I was heading off to UCLA. And that I intended to put distance between myself and Charming for a while. I just.. I needed the break from the rollercoaster of crazy my life had always been. I needed time to process discovering that my father wasn’t the same man as Jax’s father, but Clay Morrow, a man that I really hadn’t ever bonded with. A man that I’d always seen as merely ‘dad’s replacement’. 

I didn’t want to ruin our time left together, so I hadn’t quite told him yet.

His arms wrapped around me from behind just as I went to step into the shower in his bathroom and he muttered quietly against the shell of my ear, “Want some help washing off, baby girl?”

I turned to face him, melting against him and biting my lip as I gave a soft laugh and giggled. “Your hands all over me? It’s only one of my biggest fantasies, baby.”

His mouth crashed against mine passionately, our tongues tangling, his hands all over me as he pulled me even closer somehow and mumbled into the deep and passionate kiss, “Love you so fuckin much baby girl. Can’t wait until we don’t have to deal with curfews and all this other shit. When it’s just you an’ me. Our own little family.”

I swallowed down the lump in my throat and smiled up at him, nodding even though I knew I wouldn’t be around for a while. But not having the heart to tell him…

XXX

“I asked you a question, Haze. You listenin to me?” Juice’s stern tone had my head snapping up and I bit my lip, surveying the blown tire. I finally managed to clear my mind from my memories enough to ask what he’d said and he grumbled, repeating himself.

He’d asked if I had any signal on my cell phone. I handed it over and he took it, unlocking it and promptly pausing.

And in that moment, I wanted to kick myself, because I forgot that I’d taken a photo of him with Serena asleep a few days ago at the MC when she got dropped off there to be watched by Jax and the guys until I finished my shift at the hospital. I’d come in to find her asleep on Juice’s chest, arms around his neck. She’d told me on the way home that she had three favorite uncles now… Apparently, she’d really bonded with Juice.

I told myself that I put the picture on my phone because my little girl was in it. But deep down I knew it was more or less because the two people I loved most in the world were in a photo together and I wanted it where I could see it every time I had a shitty day or a long double shift at the hospital.

He glanced at me, rubbing his hand over his head and held the phone back out in haste. “None. Same as mine. We’re either walkin or we’re standin here all night. Because I don’t exactly have a spare.”

“Shit… I.. I can walk up the road a little, see if maybe I can pick up service.” I offered, starting to walk away before Juice even had a chance to verbally answer. I’d gotten a few feet away from the motorcycle and Juice and I heard him running to catch up, stopping me.

“It’s getting dark. I’ll come with ya.”

“I figured you might want some space, I… you were getting annoyed.” I mumbled softly, staring up at him. His entire expression changed and he sighed quietly, shaking his head no, tilting my chin up when I decided it was better if I looked down and not directly at him.

Because I couldn’t take the pain in his eyes anymore. I also hated that I was the reason it was there to begin with.

Everything had gone so horribly wrong between us and it was all my fault. All because I’d been too afraid to do what I really wanted. Too young, too stupid, too filled with all these big plans. Plans that all went wrong and even if they did go alright, they always felt wrong. I’d never really felt like I was where I was supposed to be.

But since I’d come home?

I hadn’t felt like I was ever supposed to be anywhere else. Maybe I never should’ve left. Maybe then my daughter would have a good father and not some prick of a sperm donor who was already married and wanted no part of her, or of me.

“I wasn’t. It’s just hard bein around you… Knowin that I wasn’t enough.” Juice mumbled quietly and I gave a quiet gasp.

“Juice, you’ve always been more than I deserved.” I found the courage to actually hold his gaze, my brows knit in concern because his words weren’t like him… and somehow, I knew he meant them and that he felt them.

Had he always felt them?

“That’s not why I left…” I started, only to go silent. “I left because I had to know if there was more to life. I needed a break from the craziness and I had a lot on my mind. I was so in love with you that sometimes it scared me.” I trailed off completely, muttering the last part “I wish I never left every single day.” quietly enough that I thought maybe he wouldn’t hear it.

But he did hear it. And he tilted my chin again, leaning down a little, his mouth brushing against mine. “It’s also hard bein around you because I still love you, baby girl. I never stopped. I just thought you didn’t...”

“I didn’t what?” I asked, my mouth brushing up against his with each word that left it. His fingertips dug into my waist and I rubbed against him just a little, my breaths shaky and erratic. Everything coming at me so fast I didn’t have time to process. I waited on him to answer.

“That maybe you didn’t love me.” he finally answered, adding quickly, “I was scared back then too…” his hand caressed my cheeks and he stared into my eyes. The wind picked up and he wrapped his arms around me to try keeping me warm just a little.

“I still love you too.” I admitted it quietly, making him blink in shock when his eyes met mine. He swallowed hard and started to  tenderly move his hands up and down my sides, one hand stopping to caress my cheek all over again.

“First.. We get off the side of the fuckin road.. Then, baby girl… when we get back to the MC, we’re going to have a serious talk, okay?”

I gave a soft laugh and nodded. “Okay. That’s fair enough. Let’s go try to find a spot with some service, yeah?”

“Yeah, even though I don’t wanna let you go right now.”

“You have all night to dance with me and hold me.. Like that last Christmas party we went to back then.. I’ve missed us so much.” I pointed out, making him nod.

Nothing mattered but getting back to the MC. Because I had so much I wanted to say. So much I needed to do to make things right again. To show him that I loved him and I’d missed him every single day I was away. That I made a huge mistake back then and I was so sorry.