#since its technically all happening at once and the different aus interact there together

[plumbus-central]

What is facility au?

So the Facility AU is on of my AUs focused on different Ricks and Minnies (my oc). The facility is basically a Minnie based attempt at providing specialized care and resources for Ricks, Minnies, and their associates and families.

They partially sort of pick up some of the former citadel tasks like caring for injured parties (provided their afflictions can't be cured by typical space hospitals). Providing services to reunited separated parties, or other portal/multiverse services (figuring out a party's dimensional code if they dont know it, cataloguing statuses of dimensions, etc.). And also caring for and re-homing any and all displaced or "Rick-less" Mortys left over from the collapse of the citadel. They get a LOT of people coming through the facility everyday.

The facility is run by Facility Minnie and her right hand arm man Zeta (Rick J15-Zeta-32). But a couple other people who work at the facility include Australian Minnie, Daycare Rick and Daycare Minnie, and Forensics Rick. Also Forgetful Minnie was cared for at a similar institution outside the CFC before it went down and she was transferred to the facility and reunited with her Rick and family.

HERE'S MY FACILITY AU TAG

HERES A POST WITH SOME MORE FACILITY AU INFO

[jennagrinsoverml]

ML Fic Recs - AUs

Last week was crazy and I didn’t get around to posting, but now I’m back with your weekly rec list. As usual, I’m trying to rec fics that readers are less likely to have read. (I base that off of kudos on AO3. The general rule is fics under 1000 kudos, but usually I try to keep it under 500!) You can find my other rec lists on my blog at #jennarecsml

If you enjoy these, please reblog so more readers can find these awesome fics!

I love the what ifs of taking are characters and changing something--or everything!--of their circumstances. What if Adrien never went to school? What if soulmates were real? What if there weren’t miraculous? There are so many ways things could have gone differently and I love these explorations. Here are some of my favourite alternate universes!

like poles of a magnet by @rosekasa

ladybug spat her blood at chat noir. invincibility was only granted to the ladybug and black cat that worked together. not even the miraculous cure could heal them, otherwise.

(or, five times they didn't hate each other, and one time it was love).

Multi-chapter. Enemies AU.  The enemies dynamic here is AMAZING!! Adrien is so in character even when he’s a “bad guy”, and the backstory of how he ended up working with Hawkmoth is perfect. (Also, how is Gabriel even worse??) I love the way the identities are played with, and especially the repercussions of Chat working for Hawkmoth on what Adrien is allowed to do.

I Love You To Pieces by marichatting

Marinette's wrist is blank. She knows that one day, she will kiss her soulmate for the first time, and her soulmate tattoo will appear on her wrist, but how is she supposed to wait patiently for that day to come?

She is dying to know whether or not Adrien is her soulmate. Meanwhile, a certain cat has the same burning question about Ladybug.

One-shot. Soulmates AU. This is so freaking sweet, I can’t even. I love when an author takes the rules of the AU and thinks through how they might play out with our characters and their dynamic, and that’s what we have here. Love the interaction between the soulmate kiss and secret identities!

A Series of Meets: Postcards by @damagectrlwrites

When Adrien moves into his first flat, he discovers postcards already in his mail box addressed to someone none of the neighbors seem to know. The postcards come from a young woman traveling the world for a few months named 'M' and her diligent, once a week cards make Adrien decide to hold on to them in hopes of delivering them to the correct receiver. However, with each postcard he gets, he learns more and more about 'M' and soon finds himself falling for the postcard's mysterious writer.

One-shot. No powers/Never met AU. Okay, technically this is a chapter in a collection of AU one-shots, but it deserves individual attention. I loved the mystery of this one, and watching Adrien slowly fall for someone he’s never even met. I don’t want to give away too much with this one, but when I finished reading it the first time I had to go back and give it another read to see how everything connected.

Footsteps by @sariahsue

"I'm not sneaking!" Marinette blurted out as soon as she saw him. She noticed three things instantly. He was blond. He was holding his hands around his eyes like binoculars, and he was in the nicest tuxedo she had ever seen.

(Marinette’s about to get married to her soulmate, a man she’s never met before. Too bad she meets that cute groomsman in the hallway first.)

One-shot. Soulmates AU. This is ridiculously, impossibly sweet. I love how even in a world where they’ve never met and things are clearly very different (marrying someone you’ve never met??), they’re still so very recognizable as themselves. I love this.

A Series of Meets: Reach by @damagectrlwrites

Paris is safe, except from the rivalry of its two superhero guardians: Ladybug and Chat Noir.  Since they were teenagers, the two have raced around Paris, trying to out do-good each other.  

After Chat Noir saves a bus of people from falling into the Seine before Ladybug can even get there, Adrien is in high spirits.  He helps a young woman reach some chips high on a shelf, kicking off a friendly conversation that ends with a coffee date.  

It’s a terrible day for Marinette.  First she had a hectic day at work, then Chat Noir gets all the praise for saving a bus of people, and then she nearly topples over trying to reach some chips.  At the very least, a nice guy helps her and asks her to coffee. Surely, things will get better, right?

One-shot. Enemies/Never met AU. Okay, technically this is a chapter in a collection of AU one-shots, but it deserves individual attention. This one is absolutely amazing and hilarious and YOU NEED TO READ IT!! Ladybug and Chat Noir are superhero rivals, always trying to outdo each other, and being annoyed at the other. Marinette and Adrien get a meet-cute and fall in love. The juxtaposition is perfect and ridiculous and THAT IDENTITY REVEAL OMG.

The Soul System by @peppermint-shamrock  

A series of fics taking place in the same soulmate AU, where soulmates experience an intense feeling of connection and recognition upon first contact - and only first contact. With no lasting proof beyond memories, things don't always go smoothly.

Series. Soulmates AU. This one is full of angst and heartbreak, but it’s so good. The worldbuilding is phenomenal. This is one where the author has really thought through the consequences of the alternate world, and then figured out how to inflict those on our canon dynamics in such a way that they inflict maximum hurt. Ladybug and Chat Noir are soulmates, but Marinette’s in love with someone else. Someone who already has a soulmate. 

lost without the shape of your heart by @beaubcxton

“I heard you today at the coffee shop.” Ladybug whispered, and noticed the way he stiffened immediately. “Don't worry, I didn't figure out who you were but I saw the back of your head as you left.”

“Oh.” He pulled away then, and offered her a wobbling charming smile. “You didn't happen to hear anything I said, did you?”

Four times Marinette stumbles onto the boy behind the mask, and the one time she meets him.

One-shot.  Never met AU. This is such beautiful ladynoir, and I love how that relationship grows and deepens. Meanwhile, of course, they’ve never met as civilians, but there’s nothing stopping them from recognizing each other. The ending absolutely sent me.

The following fics is amazing and absolutely worth reading, but does feature sexual content, so minors beware.

Overheard by @ghostlyhamburger 

Marinette and Adrien are roommates. Adrien overhears some odd sounds from Marinette's room.

Rated E. Multi-chapter. Roommates/Housemates AU. This is really hot and sweet, and then the angst hammer comes in. I just really enjoyed the entire thing, watching these two be idiots and seeing how the misunderstandings arise.

[apollos-dam-lyre]

Hi. So, with the AU where Apollo doesn’t remember being a god after he falls to Earth, how do they end up at CHB? You know, since Apollo went to Percy and Percy drove them. How do the demigods recognize him as Apollo in the first place and not as a clear-sighted mortal? What are his interactions with his kids like? What do all of the other gods do once they realize they can’t see Apollo on Earth? How do all of the quests go since Apollo is rationalizing everything away? (Sorry for the amount)

oooh anon i love these questions! thanks for sending them. so, according to my hcs:

How he ends up in CHB?

i dunno if it's canon or not (but this is an au oh well), but imo meg is asked to like 'escort' him by nero. in the 1st book, we know that he knows where chb is, so i feel like he will make meg gain his trust before nero can do his plans.

How does the demigods recognize him?

well for one, the oracle is fucked so they know something is wrong. but i think, they first thought he was a child of apollo since he's similar like them...? in a sense of waking up early, can play the ukelele, etc, but he didn't get claimed. so they were like 'thats strange'. and then an athena kid or smth connects the dots together. or like. he has a different, more powerful vibe than the usual demigods yk? they just know he's different,,

Interaction with his kids?

okay so, my hc is that the cabin 7 kids are like tired because of the sudden disappearance of their father (they dk that ofc). and then this new kid comes to them with chiron saying he was an apollo kid without getting claimed is sus. so i feel like... they'll be wary at first.

Apollo kids being friendly sunny children, they warmed up to him eventually. feels a special connection, dk what. like whenever theyre with him, they're re-energized. basically they acts like sibling but somehow apollo has authority over them. they just... yk agree bcs yeah

What do all the gods do?

most of them? nothing.

ofc the closer ones with him, like arty, hermes, dio (tho he could technically see him just not outright? like not man to man, just from afar), the muses, and leto would really do anything to check up on him. but zeus being zeus... well he won't let them.

they will have excuses on why this and tht happened... especially the diana scene...

How do the quest go with Apollo rationalizing everything?

quick answer: stupidly funny

a longer one:

scientifically, human brains are wired to connect dots the easier way. so basically he will go a bit like "what the fuck" to just plain confusement.

like that one helios fire thing, he'll probably just be all... not believe the helios thing because what, and then thinks its all just an illusion and that its a trick of light.

or the carnivorous birds in the 3rd one. he'll think its crazy birds... not man eating ones.

nero? caligula? commodus? what. probably cosplay gone too far...?

i hope that answers ur qs anon! purely my hc, and almost open to answer more :))

[lumaejin]

Your Highness | JJK

➳ Ship: Jungkook x Reader

➳ Genre: Fantasy AU. Prince!Jungkook x Warrior!Reader

➳ Word Count: 3.3k

➳ Rating: General Audiences (nothing mature/explicit)

➳ Summary: Your childhood best friend. The prince of your realm. One minute you were causing trouble together, the next he was... gone. But almost 100 years later, you finally see him again.

(banner made by me)

I lunged out with my wooden sword, the tip cutting through the dummy’s throat, sending its head flying. I smiled at my work, thinking about the possible praise I would get from my trainer. Someone started clapping from behind me.

“What are you doing here Jungkook?” I said, walking towards the decapitated head of the dummy and picking it up. With all my strength, I threw it across to the nearest bin.

“Well you know, escaping classes and what not,” he said. I rolled my eyes. Typical.

“You do know these will be important once you’re the emperor, right?”

“I still have ages until I have to worry about that. Besides, don’t you want to… you know, get out of here for a bit?” he asked, looking around at the old training arena, “It smells in here.”

“True that,” I said, contemplating his idea, “You know what… why not? BUT, I get shouted at for ‘being a bad influence to you’, you will not get off easily.”

“Sure,” he said, grinning mischievously.

“Now help me with tidying up.”

“That’s not fair! You made this mess!” he pouted. You stopped for a moment to admire his expression, before looking away.

“But you,” I said, dragging out the u, “want to get out of here quickly.”

He sighed, walking over towards the rest of the equipment, grabbing it, “I could always go without you, or with my hyungs, you know.”

“We both know you would never.”

[…]

As soon as the dummies had been thrown out and the area cleaned, we made our way towards the stables. Technically, Jungkook wasn’t supposed to be here, so we couldn’t just ask Hoseok for the horses like we normally would. Instead, Jungkook was going to saddle them secretly, while I went to distract Hobi.

“HEY! HOBI OPPA!” I yelled out, waving furiously at him. Jungkook had already snuck to the other side, entering the stable from the back door.

“Hey Y/N! What are you doing here?” he asked, smiling at me.

“Well, I was bored so I decided to come here.”

Walking towards a bench, I sat down, patting the spot next to me. Maybe I did feel a bit bad for lying to him, but that could be worried about later.

“Jungkook’s in class, right?” he asked.

“Yeah, his classes are getting longer and longer every day. So, what have you been doing?”

“Oh, not much, just this and that. Oh, we got a new horse, did I tell you?”

“You did? Is it a he or a she?” I asked, genuinely interested. Horses were beautiful creatures, especially the royal steeds.

“A she. Her name is Snowy and she’s beautiful! If you want, I can show you right now?”

Shit, no Hobi. I appreciate it but please don’t.

“Ugh, maybe another day? I’m sure she still has to get used to everything. Wouldn’t want to disturb her now, would we?” I said, mentally slapping myself. Couldn’t I have come up with something better? I glanced around, focusing on my peripheral vision. I couldn’t see Jungkook anywhere, so he was still inside. I sighed internally, couldn’t that boy hurry up?

“Ah no, she’s the sweetest. She gets along really well with the others, even with Flare and you know how she is.”

“Yeah. But just to be safe, you know.”

“Sure…” Hoseok narrowed his eyes at you, but you smiled.

“How did your training go?”

“The usual, Taehyung managed to land himself detention once again, and I stayed back a bit to practice after that.”

“What did he do this time?” Hoseok said, shaking his head, a smile on his lips.

I laughed, replaying the scene in my head, “Well, the usual prank. This time, it was on the assistant trainer. It was hilarious, but no one was dumb enough to laugh.”

The image of the assistant, covered from head to toe in paint, flashed in front of my mind and I bit back another laugh.

At that moment, I saw a figure waving out of the corner of my eyes. Jungkook. Mission accomplished.

“Anyway, it was nice chatting and all, but I have to get back to my grandmother now. Thank you! I’ll see whether I can stop by later?”

“Sure,” he said, as I ran off to the back of the stable, waving at him until I wasn’t in sight anymore.

“…TELL JUNGKOOK THAT HE CAN’T SKIP CLASS FOREVER!” I heard Hoseok shout after me. He must have seen me glancing at the stable doors every now and then. I grinned at his words and shook my head, yelling back “I WILL!”

A second later, I reached the edge of the forest, where Jungkook was waiting for me.

“I’m supposed to tell you, from Hobi oppa, that you can’t continue to skip class,” I said, taking the reins, which he held out towards me.

“You have to be more subtle next time. I mean, if Hobi hyung can pick up on it, then anyone could.”

“Stop complaining,” I said, playfully hitting him on the shoulder, “I’ve been doing the same thing for years, and Hobi oppa and the rest of your hyungs are the only ones who ever pick up on it. By the way, why did you take so long? What the hell were you doing in there?”

“It’s not my fault that Fire over here was trying to bite off my finger!”

“You should have let her, you know how much she likes eating human parts. It would have made her happy,” I said, giving him a smile.

“Don’t you worry about my happiness, woman?”

“Nope.”

[...]

A long ride and a few close encounters with castle guards later, the rushing sound of the waterfall could be heard. The forest was teeming with life, like it always was. Birds were chirping happily, the leaves were rustling and every now and then, I could hear the sound of animals rushing around between the bushes.

As we got closer, the water splashing was more and more obvious and the air started to feel more humid.

“Y/N, look!” Jungkook said.

I turned around to look in the direction he was pointing to find the trees clearing up, revealing the waterfall we had been looking for.

“Woah! It’s not changed at all since the last time we were here,” I said, gaping at the beautiful sight. The fog started to get thicker, but still, it was beautiful.

“What did you expect to happen, for it to suddenly turn red?”

“You never know. Maybe someday one of you magicians decide red fits the landscape more?”

We dismounted the horses, tying them to nearby trees. The closer we walked, the louder the sound of the rushing water became. At some point, it started to be close to deafening, but neither of us cared. We walked to the side of the curtain of water and over a bridge.

The water was splattering me everywhere, but I didn’t notice too much. We kept on walking and soon we had reached the opening to a few dark caves. I took a torch from the wall and held it up for Jungkook to light. Immediately, the rush of cold air greeted me, as we walked further in, but I ignored it. A few moments later, we had reached our destination.

With a flick of Jungkook’s wrist, the lights in the small cave turned on. They were glittering in every different colour, creating a rainbow effect on the walls. A heap of blankets and books were piled in the corner, just like we had last left them.

I went over to them, while Jungkook unpacked the food which we had bought in village. The delicious scent of baked goods immediately filled the cave and I sighed in content. Quickly arranging the blankets, I grabbed a croissant from the basket and sat down in the fluffy haven. Jungkook plopped down next to me and I leant my head on his shoulder as we munched the food.

“I read that earthlings do similar things. They sit on a checked blanket and eat food like we are now, but I heard they do it on meadows or in a forest instead,” he said, staring into the distance.

“That’s boring! Why don’t they find more exciting places?”

“Dunno, but I think it’s interesting that they don’t,” he said.

I laughed. This was typical Jungkook. There was a comfortable silence, as we were both lost in our own thoughts.

“Kookie, what do you think will happen in the future?”

He didn’t reply for a while, thinking it through. “I’ll become emperor… probably marry some stupid whore my father wants me to marry, and die at some point I guess and you...”

My heart stung a bit, but I already knew what he said was true. There was no way he would ever fall for me.

“…you’ll become the best Valkyrie in the realm I bet!”

“As if!”

“Well, even if you don’t, as soon as I have the power to, I’ll appoint you head of the royal guard. This way we’ll never be apart.”

My cheeks felt warm and I turned my head to look at him, to find his eyes already on me.

---

TIME SKIP

I watched the scene unfold from afar, standing in the shadows opposite the small café. There he was, wearing normal clothes and working at a normal job, smiling at and interacting with normal people. With earthlings. Yet, as much as it was weird to me, I couldn't help but be happy for him. This was what he had longed for so many years.

Before he was banished, Jungkook had always been curious about the earth. He would read about it, the way things worked or the way people behaved, and then go rant about it to me. He had told me about how he found it fascinating and that one day, he would see it with his own eyes, regardless of whether he had permission or not.

Therefore it hadn't surprised me at all when his hyungs had informed me of his banishment. That couldn't be said about the people of Yinshratha however. It was the only topic talked about for days. No one had believed it at first, because Jungkook's father, the emperor, had always made sure that he was known to be 'an exceptionally well-behaved boy'. Any time we had gotten ourselves in trouble, his involvement was always kept quiet.

As a result, it had been a great shock for most people to find that Jungkook, their prince and the successor to the throne, had been caught returning from the earth. Going there without permission was a major crime, which was punishable by death. Normally, the emperor would have just kept it quiet, resorting to giving his son house arrest instead, but unfortunately, many people had witnessed Jungkook being dragged towards the palace. There wasn't much of a choice for the emperor after that, but to banish him. I hadn't seen my best friend since.

100 years had passed now, and every day, I had missed him. I had thought multiple times of just going to earth to find him, but the last words I had said to him before his banishment prevented me from doing so, along with my responsibilities as a Valkyrie.

A year ago, the emperor had declared war to a neighbouring realm, underestimating their power completely. Half of his troops, including most of my comrades, had been killed in the last battle, leaving the emperor no choice but to look for reinforcements where ever he could find them, which meant looking for banished folk. I had already found nearly all of them, the only one left now was Jungkook.

I had always doubted whether he would return when he was called, but instead of dwelling on it too much, I had pushed it to the back of my mind instead, focusing on tracking and finding the others.

Yet, as I watched him go about his business, serving customers in a small café, these doubts resurfaced. He seemed so happy, making me wonder whether I should really bother him with the news of his old home. As soon as I had registered what I was contemplating though, I shook the thoughts out of my head and moved out of my hiding spot. It was 16:50 now and the shop would be closing soon. I had already wasted enough time.

Silently, I entered the small shop, joining the shrinking line. There were people chatting happily everywhere, most of them were holding a weird rectangular thing in their hands and moving their thumbs over it quickly. In fact, there were multiple tables where all the people who sat there didn't talk to each other at all and just stared at their rectangles instead. How weird.

I looked to the front, where Jungkook was currently serving another customer. He was as handsome as ever, with his forehead showing underneath his hair, and his charming smile. There was that feeling in my stomach again, almost as if it had never disappeared and always been there. I was getting distracted again.

The line moved again and a while later, I was at the front.

"Good afternoon miss. Welcome to our café, what would...?" he trailed off, staring at me with wide eyes, "Y/N? What are you doing here?"

I knelt down in front of the counter, "Your highness."

There was a lot I would have given not to do it, but Vakyries who didn't kneel were often punished and even though I knew that Jungkook would never do anything of the kind, there was no telling who was watching.

The people in the café looked at me weirdly, while Jungkook's eyes widened, quickly telling me that there was no need to bow. I stood up slowly, "I have been sent by his majesty, the emperor-"

"Let's not talk about this here. Come with me," he cut in quickly, before more people could overhear and question my sanity, "Sejin, can you cover for me?"

I walked behind the counter and followed him into a back room. He pressed something rectangular, causing the room to suddenly be lit. A small table, surrounded by a few sofas was placed in the middle of it and there was a fireplace on the wall before the small setup. Additional tables lined the wall. He turned towards me, leaning against one of them, and smiled cheekily, "Since when have you called me 'your highness'?"

"It is required of all Valkyries to call all members of the royal family -"

"I've told you before that even after you finish your training, that you won't have to do that. It already gets annoying enough when everyone else does it, there is no need for you to do it too."

"Yes, your highness, but it's been a while since we've last talked," I replied. My thoughts strayed once again to the day we had last seen each other and I cringed internally. Clearing my throat, I said, "His majesty, the emperor -"

"I hereby command you to drop the 'your highness' bullshit and all that formality," he said, making me sigh with relief, "Now before you go on again about-" he imitated my voice in a ridiculous manner, for which I almost hit him with my bag and stopping myself at the very last second, " 'his majesty, the emperor-' I wanted to catch up. What have you been doing? How are you doing?"

"Jungkook, I- oh shut up," I said at his smirk. Only then realising what had slipped out, I quickly covered my mouth. 'Shut up' was not something I was allowed to say to the prince.

He laughed at my gesture, shaking his head, "Seriously, you've changed. When have you ever cared about this stuff? You used to hit me with a ruler and tell me to shut up for no apparent reason all the time."

"I was a kid back then! And you definitely deserved it. Your status was really getting to you," I said, smiling feebly at the old memories of us running through the beautiful meadows and laughing. Immediately, an image of the battle flashed before me, making me drop it instantly.

"Jungkook, listen. I was sent here to inform you that your banishment has been lifted," I said, " His majesty declared war to Hanashem and unfortunately, their forces are stronger than was anticipated. He sent all of the elites in, but- but most of us didn't make it. He's afraid of losing this war, with the majority of us gone." The images of the battle scene were there again, haunting me as they had done in the past few weeks.

"He...what?" Jungkook said, his voice laced with hatred, "How could he have been so careless to send you in? And what the hell happened to the 'realm of peace'."

"Please Jungkook, I know you hate him, but the realm needs you. Your hyungs need you. I need you," I pleaded, images of my dead comrades were now flashing before my eyes, "Please. Please come back."

The next thing I knew, arms were wrapping themselves around me, enclosing me in a comforting hug. Butterflies were gathering themselves in my stomach again, but I ignored them, subconsciously leaning into the embrace, forgetting the principles which had been drilled into me completely and any will that I had had in the last few years to get over Jungkook.

"Of course I'll come," I heard him whisper as he stroked my hair softly, "It's going to be okay."

We stayed like that for a while until he spoke again, "There's something that I've been meaning to talk to you about."

He pulled away, looking me in the eye. I had an inkling of what he wanted to say. This was something I had been dreading for a while. I had kept the thought at the very back of my mind, but it was always there.

"Did you mean what you said to me in the last few moments before I was banished?"

There it was. The words I had dreaded. If I told him the truth, would it affect his behaviour around me? I knew it would because there was no way he felt the same. I was just his best friend, nothing more.

But I couldn't lie to him: he always knew when I wasn't telling the truth, not to mention, however close we had once been, I would be lying to the prince, a member of the royal family, which was something not to be done.

I hesitated, avoiding his gaze, before bringing the words out, "I did."

"Do you still feel that way?"

"It doesn't matter, I-"

"Do you?" he persisted.

I sighed heavily, "I do, but I can get over it. I -"

But I never got to finish my sentence. I felt his lips moving against mine, carefully but passionately at the same time. My heart pounded loudly in my chest and I felt my knees going weaker and weaker. Heat rose from my stomach upwards and I felt the butterflies fluttering around. Was this a dream? If it was, it was one I didn't want to wake up from.

As we pulled apart, both gasping for breath, I could only stare at him, wide-eyed.

"Did you expect me not to fall for you when you were, and still are, so perfect all the time?" he whispered.    

A/N: This was written a long time ago on wattpad. I like to think that my writing’s evolved since then, which is why I will make time to edit in sometime in the near future.

[katytheinspiredworkaholic]

Correspondence, Chapter 03

Pairing: HotchReid

Summary:  An AU where Reid never joined the FBI, but got roped into consulting for the LA field office while working and teaching at Caltech. Hotch gets his email referred from a fellow agent, and they start to work on cases together -- until they start talking on a regular basis. Regular becomes frequent, frequent becomes constant. They know nothing about each other, but they don't really mind.

Rating: Mature/Explicit (eventually)

Chapter CW/notes: Mentions of alcohol, a very long conversation happens where Hotch is a little buzzed. Big, BIG focus on their age difference, and unintentional misinformation. Spencer has no idea Hotch thinks he’s older, or at least not OLD older, and gets a little panicky/clams up -- and yes I realize Hotch could just background check him and find it out but he respects the man enough to not do that. The chapter is linear, it just encompasses a lot of time passing so hopefully that’s not too confusing. Set in season 6, self beta’d.

Word Count: 5025

Masterpost Link

Ao3 Link

--

Chapter 03

--

Early September 2010

--

And so, it begins.

The dynamic shift, the vast change in how Hotch and Dr. Reid had been corresponding for the past few months. Evolving from something so professional and academic to something… looser. More freeing. More room for error, of course, but the risk turns out to be more than worth it for what they gain.

The texts are sporadic, at first. Short interactions, here and there, all stemming from that first, longer conversation about Jack. Hotch follows up the very next day, after he gets to talk to his son in the morning over pancakes. Jessica hovering nearby the whole time. She had apologized for her harsh words, and commended him after the fact how he’d approached Jack on the subject and led the little boy into a conversation rather than a lecture like his teachers had done. Because, as Spencer had mentioned -- there was no need for one. Jack already had the situation handled.

[]6/4, 12:39[] You were right. 

[]6/4, 12:39[] He invited the kid that was bullying him over for a playdate. Trying to win him over by killing him with kindness.

[]6/4, 12:43[] My kind of kid. 

[]6/4, 12:44[] You’ve taught him well, Hotch.

And that was it. That was all it took to kick off what turns into a frequent occurrence. Slowly, as time passes, their quick texts turn to conversations that naturally revert to work. It’s where they spend most of their time, after all, and what they had bonded over in the first place. But unlike in their emails, it isn’t just about the cases or profiles or statistics required to crack them. It’s much more opinionated than that, erratic in it’s content and frequency. Commentary on Hotch’s team, ideas on the cases they work, case studies and research projects and sometimes even just office gossip that somehow always makes its way to Hotch’s attention despite everyone trying to keep it from doing so.

Or just Dr. Reid observing their antics. This is the beginning of the tonal shift, and Hotch can’t help but think… it just might be a welcome one.

[]6/12, 10:03[] Your tech analyst always sends me rainbow font emails.

[]6/12, 10:07[] Yes, she’s doing that with everyone on the team. It’s Pride month and she’s being supportive.

[]6/12, 10:11[] She considers me a part of the team? How sweet of her.

[]6/12, 10:12[] You are, and as far as the bureau goes you might as well be.

[]6/12, 10:13[] I doubt I could sneak you into payroll, though.

[]6/12, 10:21[] I bet Ms. Garcia could.

[]6/12, 10:28[] Don’t. Say. Anything.

[]6/12, 10:29[] But yes, she could. 

It turns into a small reprieve, for Hotch, in the constant deluge of bureaucracy and violence that fills his work day. The single moment he allows a sliver of himself to appear through the cracks of his armor he has to wear to guard himself from it all. To be the stoic leader the team needs, the unmovable tree in the storm.

Only in his quick, typed under the table conversations he has with Spencer does he allow himself the slips of humor. Barely there traces of a smile. Finding the smallest spots of light in his dark days, in his work that can surround and consume to the point of suffocation. Hotch thrives in it, he always has -- while others have drowned. But he doesn’t mind finding this small self-indulgence. Making the decision for himself that he can joke and poke fun at his work and not feel guilty about it. That, for once, he can allow himself this.

Until one day, Spencer returns the favor -- and starts talking about his own work.

[]7/21, 16:17[] If I leave all of my Ph.D. applicants in a ditch in the desert, is that still murder?

[]7/21, 16:30[] Technically or hypothetically?

[]7/21, 16:34[] Different question, would you be my legal council if I snap and it happens anyway?

[]7/21, 16:37[] Of course.

[]7/21, 16:38[] But as your attorney, I have to advise you that we never had this conversation, and murder is wrong.

[]7/21, 16:40[] Hypothetically. 

Spencer takes a little longer to open up, but when he does it is through this window into an academic world Hotch had never planned or thought he would ever be privy to. He begins to reveal pieces of it, bit by bit, until Hotch starts to form a picture in his mind of what shape this professor’s life really takes. Making deductions based on his speech patterns, what goes on throughout his day, his word choices, and profiling the man through text message without even meaning to. 

He tries to put a stop to it as soon as he realizes this. Dr. Reid isn’t just a consultant anymore, he is his friend -- and Hotch will always do his utmost to not profile his friends. But it’s a little too late for some aspects that can’t help but stand out as time goes on. Such as the inkling that the other man probably isn’t senile with a cane and a stooped back, like Hotch had first thought. Certain parts of his day allude to someone who is a bit fresher to the academic scene -- instead of spending decades on a college campus. 

But Hotch sets that aside, to be scrutinized at a later date, and instead turns his focus into enjoying what Spencer has to offer him. As his friend. The stories he shares freely, now that they’ve spent all this time breaking down the barriers. He regales Hotch with his own daily problems, grievances, as well as the little bright spots that he just wants to share with Hotch so that it can lighten up his own days. Which were much more bleak, and crowded with danger and horrid things. 

Hotch lives for those messages.

[]7/28, 20:42[] So I have a godson.

[]7/28, 20:44[] He’s four, and he just came to visit last week with his mother. Have you and Jack ever done science experiments at home? 

[]7/28, 20:46[] Because I have some that are definite crowd pleasers. Do them right, you can call them ‘physics magic’. I can send you the instructions, it’s well worth it.

[]7/28, 20:47[] I’m not sure how helpful I would be in a scientific area, but I’m always willing to try.

[]7/28, 20:49[] I’d require video evidence of it, then. 

[]7/28, 20:50[] But they are so fun, I’d forgotten how much.

[]7/28, 20:51[] No children of your own?

[]7/28, 20:54[] Never found the right person, but I always spent so much time on my degrees that I hadn’t really thought about being a parent. 

[]7/28, 20:55[] My Godson really brought it to light, though. I love having him here.

[]7/28, 20:56[] I bet he loves when you come around, or when they get to visit you, too.

[]7/28, 20:59[] I work in a science lab, with lasers and telescopes bigger than my first apartment. My approval rating is pretty high when it comes to my godson. 

Although Hotch finds that he doesn’t always start these interactions, the ones that lead to topics outside of work, he also isn’t against them in the slightest. They begin to start messaging at all hours, because of this; first thing in the morning, during their lunch break, whenever something pops up -- what used to be jokes that would just be kept to themselves, turn to conversation starters. And that development shifts the dynamic even more.

[]8/11, 10:31[] Coffee shops always make me feel old, and like I’m a grad student all over again.

[]8/11, 10:38[] You don’t have a T.A. to run and get you coffee?

[]8/11, 10:41[] Of course you would send out for coffee.

[]8/11, 10:42[] Well my order is two steps, not sixteen.

[]8/11, 10:43[] Tyrant.

[]8/11, 10:43[] Pretentious.

They start to tease, banter, and poke fun at each other. Comradery, friendship, and the more it goes on the more it seems to spiral towards something else. Something new.

But it’s these small moments, messages, conversations that can last a minute or an hour, that make Hotch’s chest feel so much lighter as the weeks go by. Hints of a smile easing onto his face, smoothing out and softening the edges in a way they haven’t in a long time. Garnering some attention from the rest of the team, or whoever is in the vicinity that felt brave enough to mention it.

“Who are you talking to?”

“Who’s the lucky lady?”

“No one,” Hotch would answer, schooling himself and pocketing his phone. “Just a consultant on a case.”

-

This is how it goes… for months. 

They never speak on the phone. Never even hint at video calls. Never send pictures. (Although Spencer does make a mention once or twice about that promised video when Hotch finally gets around to attempting the ‘physics magic’ experiment he’d emailed him. Hotch secretly hopes that maybe, one day, Spencer will just get to show them in person. Instead of Hotch having to record it for anyone to witness.)

But they talk like clockwork. Play chess on the regular, allowing them to talk more fluently with a laptop to aid the flow of conversation. It starts with once a week, then twice a week, standing dates after hours that meld so seamlessly with their messages every workday. They keep it to the weekdays, at first, since Hotch is busy with Jack on the weekends. But that doesn’t last long. Suddenly, without warning -- it becomes every night as well. That shift is such an organic, natural progression, that it slips in without either of them making comment on it. A silent agreement, because mentioning it would mean admitting why they were pushing this in such a new direction. 

They just… missed talking to each other. Two days was too long. 

Now, it’s every day.

They text for hours; check in on each other at random throughout the day even when Hotch is on cases or Spencer is busy with his duties as the leading doctoral expert of Caltech. Times when they should be swamped, unavailable to anything other than their primary focus and work load, still littered with short messages. Before and after each flight, when Hotch gets back to his hotel at night, when Spencer has to lecture out of town and they just so happen to be passing each other during travel -- mere states away. So close, yet so far. It’s all the time, it’s constant, and it’s wonderful.

Spencer still helps with cases. Often, even more often than he ever helped the L.A. field office. But it’s not always through email, anymore. Sometimes it’s just easier for Hotch to shoot him a quick text. A detailed message in the middle of their everyday banter and dribble but no less out of place, knowing the good Doctor will answer him quickly. Time is of the essence when they are on a case, but they are always on retainer for each other. Waiting in the wings, ready to jump in with quick, snappy wit and bitten-back smiles, and Hotch feels so good. So light. Better than he has in years. 

Happy. 

Hotch is happy, finding a friend in Dr. Spencer Reid, even if sometimes that friendship seems to transcend layers he didn’t know were there. Developing into something else, something he hadn’t touched in a long, long time. 

Months pass. Months. Like a blur. Like they’ve only just started this thing that’s anticipatory and comfortable and flexible in its medium and that is so easy -- everything Hotch needs in his life -- that he can barely imagine what his days and nights were like before this. Before Spencer. 

But it’s months into this correspondence, this charged and bright thing, that he’s home late one night with a Scotch in one hand and a losing game of online chess long forgotten on his laptop screen. Lost in messaging Spencer, back to his phone instead of the chat feature of the chess game. Because texting is their comfort zone, now. He never thought it would be, had seen teenagers and adults attached to their phones like a lifeline and used to scoff about it, but he finally has begun to understand. 

Because here he is -- not even looking up when he takes a drink -- lost in his conversation with Spencer. Making each other laugh, in a way he hasn’t in so long. Loud and high and afraid he might wake Jack down the hall so he stifles it with another sip of his Scotch.

[]9/8, 21:12[] If Jack wakes up, you know that’s it for us. He’ll never go back to sleep.

[]9/8, 21:13[] Then stop laughing so loud. I honestly can’t imagine you laughing enough to wake him.

[]9/8, 21:14[] Usually I don’t. I never laugh like this, but I used to.

[]9/8, 21:16[] Mr. FBI isn’t allowed to laugh, I thought. Didn’t they beat that out of you at the academy?

[]9/8, 21:19[] I was able to retain a smidgen of humor, it’s well hidden. You just seem to bring it out more than others.

[]9/8, 21:20[] I’m flattered. 

[]9/8, 21:20[] You should be. 

[]9/8, 21:21[] If my team saw me crack a smile I’d probably be forced to get a CAT scan.

[]9/8, 21:23[] Do you need one? I have an M.A. in Cognitive Sciences, I’ll be your second opinion.

[]9/8, 21:24[] Probably, but I’ll live.

[]9/8, 21:25[] Very stiff upper lip of you. They teach you that at the academy, too?

[]9/8, 21:26[] No, that would be Scotland Yard. I liaised there for a while.

[]9/8, 21:28[] Wow, you get around. Have you been anywhere else on your global exploration?

[]9/8, 21:31[] Hardly that, I just go where the bureau tells me. I’ve already been bounced all over the country before landing at the BAU. All you can do is keep the ‘stiff upper lip’ and adapt.

[]9/8, 21:31[] “Keep Calm & Carry On”?

[]9/8, 21:33[] Garcia gave me that on a mug last Christmas. I still don’t know what it’s from.

[]9/8, 21:34[] Your age is showing. Get with the times, old man.

[]9/8, 21:35[] You’re one to talk.

[]9/8, 21:35[] What?

Hotch bites back a smile, thinking about how for months he had been so sure Spencer was this elderly professor in his 60’s or 70’s that just happened to find their conversations interesting. That was… very apparently wrong, Hotch can see that now, but he hadn’t had any evidence to the contrary for the entire time they corresponded those first few months. 

He could have done a background check on the professor at any time, is sure Garcia already has one saved in a file ready to send him at his first request, but it’s more fun this way. The not knowing, the learning about each other piece by careful piece. Even the smallest bits of information, such as age. 

He bet Spencer would get a kick out of his first impression of the man, though.

[]9/8, 21:37[] Oh come on, you know.

[]9/8, 21:39[] No, I actually don’t. Congratulations, you’ve stumped the super genius.

[]9/8, 21:39[] But really, what do you mean?

[]9/8, 21:42[] I always just assumed you are at least ten years my senior, maybe even fifteen. How are you more with the times than I am?

[]9/8, 21:43[] I work at a University. I am surrounded by hormones and the dribble of youth.

There’s a slightly lengthy pause after that exchange, enough Hotch starts to pay closer attention through the buzz of liquor settled over his skin pleasantly.

[]9/8, 21:49[] How old do you think I am?

[]9/8, 21:50[] I don’t know, is it rude if I answer?

Hotch is not laughing to himself, he promises. 

[]9/8, 21:52[] Why do you think I’m older?

[]9/8, 21:53[] This feels like a trap.

[]9/8, 21:53[] It’s not.

[]9/8, 21:56[] Well, honestly just from your academic achievements. Not everyone has that kind of time. And all your departments you run, you have to have a pretty level head and knack for maturity to keep that all in order. Especially doctorate students. 

[]9/8, 21:58[] Thank you, I think.

[]9/8, 22:00[] I bet you’re the coolest old man on campus, though, don’t get me wrong.

Hotch does outright laugh after he sends that, manages to keep it a little bit quieter, and commends himself on having the upperhand in the conversation for once as he stares at his phone for a few minutes, awaiting an answer. 

If he had to guess, Hotch supposes he’s held on to that stubborn image of Spencer being a stooped old professor out of habit. But the more the two have talked, after he'd gotten to know the man and his written verbal expressions and just the way his life runs day to day, it’s pretty easy to see that that is not correct. Spencer could be someone around Dave or Jason’s age, but more likely even younger than that -- closer to his own. 

And that… is an intriguing thought that sparks something in his chest. He smothers it with another sip of Scotch and realizes that it has been a solid five minutes of silence. With Spencer not even typing out a response.

[]9/8, 22:06[] Was it something I said?

[]9/8, 22:07[] No, I’m just… contemplating my answer.

[]9/8, 22:07[] Answer to what?

Hotch hasn’t drank that much, but he doesn’t believe he asked a question at all. He scrolls back through their conversation and doesn’t see one. Spencer has asked a good handful, though, all about Hotch’s perception of his age. 

Interesting.

[]9/8, 22:09[] Respond, not answer.

[]9/8, 22:10[] I’m all turned around now.

[]9/8, 22:12[] Flustered in your old age? Now I’m flattered. 

This is almost like flirting. Skirts the edges of it, and Hotch feels more emboldened to try the more Spencer tap-dances around what is obviously Hotch’s incorrect assumption of his age. He had had no idea Hotch thought he was older, that is apparent, and it’s throwing the other man for a loop for some reason Hotch can’t ascertain. 

[]9/8, 22:15[] I’m not old.

[]9/8, 22:15[] I’m not even older than you.

[]9/8, 22:16[] And how do you know that?

[]9/8, 22:17[] Just trust me on this.

[]9/8, 22:17[] Well, how old are you?

Another long, lengthy pause that Hotch waits for with baited breath. He knows that Spencer is there, that he’s staring at his phone and trying to decide the best way to answer without really answering anything. It’s only a matter of minutes, but that is a long time for them. When they are deep in a conversation like this.

Hotch isn’t laughing to himself anymore, but he’s more pleasantly confused than worried. He really has no idea what is making Spencer so hesitant.

[]9/8, 22:22[] Spencer?

[]9/8, 22:25[] I’m not going to tell you.

[]9/8, 22:26[] What, you want me to guess?

[]9/8, 22:28[] You’ll never guess.

[]9/8, 22:29[] That sounds like a challenge. How many guesses do I have?

[]9/8, 22:31[] None. Listen, I don’t want you to know. I shouldn’t have said anything.

[]9/8, 22:33[] I’m afraid it’s going to change your perception of me, and we’ll stop talking like this.

[]9/8, 22:34[] Just keep imagining me with wrinkles and a cane, I’m okay with that.

That drops the small smile right off his face.

Hotch is… surprised by this turn of events. What could be so shocking about this that Spencer thinks they would stop talking to each other? They’re corresponding every night. How could he possibly stop on a dime like that?

It doesn’t make any sense. And that’s not the alcohol talking.

[]9/8, 22:37[] I honestly don’t see how that would be possible.

[]9/8, 22:39[] I’m not going to stop talking to you just because you aren’t the senior professor I imagined running Caltech with an Iron Fist.

[]9/8, 22:40[] Now you’re projecting. 

[]9/8, 22:40[] You saying I’m too strict?

[]9/8, 22:41[] Tyrant, I think was the term I chose. 

[]9/8, 22:42[] Pretentious.

[]9/8, 22:44[] But Spencer, unless you are somehow underage with five Ph.D.’s, there’s no reason for us to stop talking. 

[]9/8, 22:47[] You would not believe how many people treat me like I'm underage, to this day. So that doesn’t inspire confidence.

Hotch pauses with his glass halfway back to his lips, only a few sips left in the glass. Staring at his phone and struggling to make sense of what Spencer is saying. Hotch had been trying to joke and tease with him, but now the word ‘underage’ feels like a glaring beacon of a word on his screen. 

He’s very suddenly more than a little nervous, even through the haze of alcohol. He is 45 years old, no matter what he keeps telling Spencer -- there is a limit to this being appropriate or not. What that limit is, he’d have to consider when he’s more sober, and it makes him feel like he should be reigning in the flirtatious notes that keep worming their way into the conversation. 

But it’s not actually possible for him to be that young, and everything he’s learned about the man indicates he’s closer to his own age. Was he in his 30’s? Even that felt too young for what Hotch had (subconsciously) profiled -- no, it has to be something else. 

No matter what, he didn’t want to keep getting Spencer worked up like this about it. His age hadn’t bothered Hotch before that night, so maybe if he drops it they can revert back to how they’d been spending their late evening hours before this turn in the conversation. 

[]9/8, 22:50[] But I’m NOT underage.

[]9/8, 22:51[] If that needed to be said.

[]9/8, 22:53[] Can you buy alcohol by yourself?

[]9/8, 22:54[] Yes.

[]9/8, 22:54[] See this is what I was afraid of.

[]9/8, 22:55[] Relax, I was trying to tease you. 

[]9/8, 22:57[] You don’t have to tell me, Spencer. I’ll just keep picturing Sean Connery, or John Steinbeck in the later years.

[]9/8, 22:59[] I see you have a type. 

[]9/8, 23:00[] Well, who do you picture when you think of me?

[]9/8, 23:01[] Hugo Weaving, Matrix era. Or Richard Feynman.

[]9/8, 23:02[] Well now I feel typecasted. Who’s Feynman?

[]9/8, 23:02[] An American Theoretical Physicist from the 40’s-60’s.

[]9/8, 23:03[] Ouch. How old do you think *I* am?

[]9/8, 23:04[] I’m afraid to answer that.

[]9/8, 23:04[] O.u.c.h.

[]9/8, 23:06[] You’ve been borderline flirting with me, and you just said you thought I was in my 60’s! What was I supposed to think?

[]9/8, 23:07[] If you’re looking in that age bracket, I’m sure I can get you the Biology Department Head’s number.

[]9/8, 23:07[] He’s 72 with rheumatoid arthritis. 

[]9/8, 23:08[] You are hysterical. So funny.

Hotch is smiling wide down at his phone again, feeling lighter and glad he got them back on track. 

But… 

He can’t help but think back to what he just tried to drop entirely. Blame the Scotch, or whatever drive to know that makes him dig down and root out information in cold cases in his spare time, Hotch doesn’t think he can let it go. Not when it was something Spencer hadn’t meant to be a secret in the first place. Not when, knowing that it has created misinformation between them unintentionally, results in Spencer shying away and hesitant to tell Hotch anything more about himself. 

Not when he’d said ‘flirting’, because that had been what Hotch was doing, and he can’t even describe how disappointing it would be to quit while he was ahead. When the build up has been so gradual and easy and everything he’d been looking for and could never seem to find.

Now, this slight disruption is sticking in his mind, sharp like a thorn in his side. Always there, making itself known, and he wonders if he is lucid enough to try and draw the information out of Spencer via interview tactics -- or if the brilliant man would see right through any of his attempts.

Probably. Who was he kidding? Spencer had more degrees and college hours under his belt than Hotch could manage in a lifetime. Best to do this the old fashioned way, then.

[]9/8, 23:10[] 38.

[]9/8, 23:11[] Oh. Really? That’s kind of young to be Unit Chief, congratulations.

[]9/8, 23:11[] No, not me. You. I’m guessing 38.

[]9/8, 23:12[] Oh.

[]9/8, 23:12[] Incorrect.

[]9/8, 23:13[] I don’t even get a hint?

[]9/8, 23:13[] Nope.

[]9/8, 23:15[] We’re not playing a game. I’m not telling you.

[]9/8, 23:15[] So you won’t guess my age, either?

[]9/18, 23:17[] Chicken.

[]9/8, 23:17[] 45.

Hotch near throws his phone across the room. Almost makes a quip about how reading his file is cheating -- but he knows Spencer just made a stupidly accurate ‘educated guess’ because he knows fucking everything. 

They really should just put him on the payroll. Hotch is being selfish keeping the man all to himself.

But God, is he enjoying it, too.

[]9/8, 23:19[] There’s no way you profiled that with that kind of accuracy. 

[]9/8, 23:20[] How do you do that?

[]9/8, 23:21[] Black magic.

[]9/8, 23:22[] I’ll get it out of you one day, I swear.

[]9/8, 23:23[] And as a man of your word, I believe that you truly believe that.

[]9/8, 23:23[] Full of jokes tonight, aren’t you?

[]9/8, 23:25[] I live to amuse. 

[]9/8, 23:25[] And make you smile.

[]9/8, 23:27[] You are one of the few that do.

With a careful pause, nothing left in his glass, a thought perched on the edges of his mind that is already watery with cognitive dissonance, Hotch starts typing before he’s even fully made the decision.

[]9/8, 23:30[] You really think my flirting is borderline? I was going for subtlety, but I must be rusty.

[]9/8, 23:32[] Actually, I just thought I was projecting.

[]9/8, 23:23[] You were married, I didn’t want to presume.

Oh. 

The consideration is touching, and sobering even in the dimness of his home office, but it draws the softest of smiles back to Hotch’s face when he begins to type out his answer.

[]9/8, 23:35[] Thank you, for thinking of me first.

[]9/8, 23:37[] But Haley and I separated a long time before she died. We were actually divorced before she went into WICSEC. I miss her every day. But I did try to date for a while, before that. 

[]9/8, 23:39[] No luck? I would have thought the FBI badge would at least garner some interest.

[]9/8, 23:40[] I’ve been told I’m intimidating.

[]9/8, 23:41[] I don’t think you are.

[]9/8, 23:42[] You will if you ever meet me. I’ve made underlings cry before without speaking a word.

[]9/8, 23:44[] The Hotchner stare. Have you coined that?

[]9/8, 23:45[] I should. It’s got a ring to it.

They banter and causally slip a few more… flirtatious comments in, and Hotch realizes it really isn’t that much different than before. That he had indeed been flirting with the man long before he knew his age. Which was odd, he didn’t typically go for older men and women. But now that he’s aware Spencer is younger than he thought, possibly even his own age (he swears he is, would put money on it if he could), somehow there’s more of a charge in their correspondence, a warmth and buzzing elation that has nothing to do with his Scotch. Especially now that it’s long gone.

It’s all Spencer, and how they compliment each other, and Hotch finds himself near giddy with that information.

He tries, towards the end of the night where it tips over into the early hours of the morning, to imagine an image of Spencer again -- and finds that he doesn’t even care to. He’s enamored with the man and his wit and the way he makes Hotch laugh without trying. How he looks, his age, it doesn’t matter. Not really. Not to Hotch.

But he is still curious why Spencer won’t reveal it. He can’t be that young.

[]9/9, 00:43[] You really won’t tell me?

[]9/9, 00:45[] Maybe one day. When I’m feeling brave.

[]9/9, 00:46[] Well, I’ll be there. Waiting. 

[]9/9, 00:46[] 32.

[]9/9, 00:47[] You’ll never guess.

[]9/9, 00:48[] There’s only so many numbers.

[]9/9, 00:50[] Goodnight, Hotch.

[9/9, 00:51] Goodnight, Spencer.

-

(tbc...)

-

Tagged List:  @spencehotchner @ssa-sarahsunshine @gothamapologist @reidology @marsjareau @dragon-snaps-fandom​ @emmyraebird @just-an-emo-rat​​​ @aaron-hotchner187 @dk18077 @more-heid-pls @fakin-it-til-i-make-it @merpancake

[lieblxng]

im developing a lot of aus including the reverse au which is currently only available for rose, but leon also has it developed, i just forgot to put it in the verses page for him haha but wow im developing a reverse verse for a chara i dont have??? i might as well throw damos on the blog and be the only person in the pkmn rpc who plays him LMAO i cant help falling for obscure characters but i think he might have a better chance in getting interactions than my etrian odyssey muses but no if anyone wants to do damos,,,,you can hmu 😳😳 i cant reply it or see it if you do tho LMAOO

anyway reverse!damos here who goes by lazarus (meaning: my god has aided me) is not a nice farmer unlike his normal verse, instead being akin to a mercenary, but he kinda fills in the role of marcus - he has the ability to manipulate the hearts of pokemon, even legendaries and because of this, he’s been fiddling with legendaries and experimenting with things to try something out - and while reverse!arceus has been severely weakened from an intense fight or a meteorite too (im still figuring it out) and lost its life plates, lazarus finds it. it’s on the brink of dying, and instead of returning the plates like a nice person, lazarus only thinks of profit and benefitting himself - because it’s so vulnerable, it manipulates reverse!phae into summoning the lake guardians, where it promptly fights them and steals their gems before kicking them into the dirt. then he uses said gems to restraint and fully take control of reverse!phae before inserting the plates back into it, saying it will only get them back if it corporates. yes, lazarus literally pulls a cyrus being the first one to actually create a draft of the red chains to have arceus under its command. one of cyrus’ pc posts is “According to myths, the Pokémon created Sinnoh with its power. However, capturing the Pokémon with a Poké Ball prevents it from using its full power... But with the Red Chain, the Pokémon can be shackled, and its power can be used without restraint...” and he’s implying arceus with the first mention of pokemon, so maybe the red chains can be used on god??? i dont see why not, although the lake guardian was made more to check the creation trio than god itself, but why wouldn’t you have checks against god? “The Pokémon of the lakes and Mt. Coronet are somehow connected. Capturing the Pokémon of the lakes will free the Pokémon of Mt. Coronet. From the Pokémon of the lakes, crystals can be extracted to create a Red Chain.” i know he implies the creation trio with pkmn of mt. coronet but technically arceus lives in mt. coronet as the hall of origins can be summoned there LEMME HAVE THIS - 

originally i was going to have reverse!arceus be a completely neutral god, both in personality and how it handled things - just create life, casually, and just head out and do nothing for them - “the humans can handle their planet however they wish to. if they destroy it, they destroy it.” and i was trying to redesign it and it kept coming up as punk (more below because this is a long ass post)

so i was like, aight i guess i’ll go with what my heart wants but something still didnt feel right, because punk is an expression more than just a simple fashion statement - it was created to rebel against those who tried to hold you down and mold you into who they wanted you to be. to defy the shitty standards of what’s supposedly normal. and then it all clicked when i looked at this vid 

ive heard the music itself and one of my favs, but not the music video so i kinda just exploded with ideas and it really completed the punk i wanted to go with - funny thing, im a bad character designer so i scrapped the punk look and pulled a unique thing with phae’s case - legendaries and mythics are statements of unchanging, fixated ways while normal, evolvable pokemon are statements of improvement and change - growth, which is something phae is completely jealous of. gods don’t evolve; they don’t change. so i thought, why not keep its original look (i love it too much anyway and i cant think of anything better tbh for phae) to reflect that aspect but have the way it governs and behaves different? normal!phae and reverse!phae are still similar but opposite - normal being the kind, caring god and reverse being the relentless, uncaring god. both are the two most popular aspects and themes of gods and how they treat those beneath them, so i thought it worked.

reverse!phae never wanted to be a god. it’s immature and uncaring on purpose to get the attention of the creator of the original one itself; to be a sign of rebel, to show that it was its own character and no one can morph it into what they want it to be. it revels in its creations screaming in pain, as nothing else entertains it so and because it empathizes with them. it sends the world into pure chaos a majority of time so no one enjoys living. seeing its creations, both human and pokemon, excel in the trials and tribulations of this hell; seeing them perform so expertly under extreme stress, how humans and pokemon can come together and defeat anythin - and rebelling in their own right and way give reverse!phae so much hope and relief. that it’ll be able to do the same. and once reverse!phae does get its creators attention, you bet it’s gonna be very angry on why it exists. it might even try to murk its creator. it’s more of a “i didn’t ask to be born so i’m gonna make it your problem” type of person, and a god prone to violence - often fighting with its own creations, like even the lake trio and the creation trio. but it checks them all every time, and it’s so hungry for an actual fight that reverse!phae can actually work for and struggle for and feel like it actually won. and that’s when lazarus comes in. that’s where lazarus comes in.

how much it hates lazarus. how much it hates lazarus. it hates everyone, but lazarus has a special kind of hatred reserved just for him. in fact, hatred isn’t the proper word to explain the intense, raw, unfiltered feelings reverse!phae has for him. on one hand, it absolutely respects the honest work he puts in to further himself, but on the other hand, being the one on the receiving end of his malicious intentions is never ideal. it has no interest in whatever petty crimes he wants to commit, but trying to take god and become it yourself? completely admirable. a fantastic way to rebel, but having to have someone chain you down and control you? reverse!phae’s worst nightmare. i’ll get into that later since this is already long enough god help me

is reverse!phae messed up? yes, severely. that’s kinda what happens when you rot alone in the depths of dark space for eons. no human nor pokemon - no, no living being can ever handle that. both normal! and reverse!phae have the same backstory, but different reactions to it. reverse!phae wants everyone to scream and lash out, it wants everyone to rebel against their origins and become their own people, even with the immense baggage on their shoulders. it wants everyone to risk death to accomplish their dreams. it laughs in everyone's faces before spitting in them. i think reverse!phae will be one of my most violent takes on a muse, if not, my most since it is god and the shit it talks can easily be proven right. it constantly berates and breaks people down into pieces. no one understands it. it hates everyone and everything it sees. it doesn’t need love and kindness, it just needs a body to break. which is untrue, because obviously its yearning for love and kindness - something its never experienced - and it’s lashing out for attention. secretly hoping someone will just hug it and all its problems away. that everything will be okay in the grand scheme of things. that it won’t have to have the unlimited stress of being a god anymore.

usually when i put my touch on muses, canon or not, they’re primarily good people with hearts of gold. even with ones less so, they’re not as intense as this. so working with that kind of character is thrilling and i’m excited to see if i can get anyone interested with it lmao- reverse!phae’s name might be nou or chali, what would be better? sorry this was such a long post!! i’ve been working on this since last night and it’s been really fun to develop like this again - i only get this kind of productive with my hyperfixations, so they’re both a blessing and a curse -  i think this is everything i have rn for the reverse au but ii’ll be going back into it

[offbrandmercyplates]

Okay I Have a Title This Time You Ready? Hear Me Out: Shenani-wings (Badum-tish!)

Heard you hurt your back and legs while trying to make the pattern for that cool sounding 50s dress you were talking about (at least, I think that’s what “drafting the pattern” means; I sewed a pillow shut once, I’m sure you can tell), so I decided to post this. Hope it makes you feel a little better!

Guess who’s back? It’s me, Yours The Author, coming to you with another fanfiction and something of a request of my own. I’ll state my request here so you can make a decision before the story begins: I don’t have a Tumblr, but I do have a fanfiction.net account that I’m fairly active on. Only if it’s okay with you, I would like to ask permission to post this story and the previous one I submitted on my account, with credit to you for the characters and AUs, of course (if you have a title in mind for that first fic, I’d be more than willing to hear it, because otherwise it would take me a while to come up with one of my own). If you’d rather I didn’t, that’s perfectly fine! I’m more than satisfied being featured on your Tumblr, so I won’t fret if you say no. Anyway, the fanfiction. Yes.

I don’t know where chapter two of the main story will start—right where we ended the first? Sometime/distance later? Who knows? —but this scenario of shenanigans with wings (get it? Get it?) popped into my mind one morning as I was slowly preparing to get up for the day, and I’d like to give it a shot. Let me know what you think! It’s a little more comedic than my last one, but I guess I just tend to default to comedy sometimes; hope that’s okay!

Trigger Warning (if it can be called that): mild action, awkward socializing, and a blatant Looney Tunes reference.

***

Shenani-wings

It was awkwardly silent as Emmibee and Gaster stood in the elevator that went from New Home to The Core. Gaster had watched her quietly as she looked with awe at the Capital’s city scape around the corner from Asgore’s house, but now that they were in an enclosed space with nothing but the shiny buttons and each other to look at, he seemed very interested in those buttons.

“…Nice weather, huh?” She said. She then proceeded to stare intensely at the corner of the elevator as Gaster stared just as intensely at her.

“The weather is always the same. Also, technically, there is no weather. We’re under a mountain,” he replied.

“…Oh yeah.”

The awkwardness cut deeper.

Emmi practically leapt out of the elevator when the doors opened, Gaster following more calmly after her. She looked around, once again amazed by the world she had inserted herself into. She had played and watched play-throughs of Undertale enough times to know the basic colors of the world, but there was only so much detail that could be shown via Earthbound-style graphics.

The dark blue walls were polished enough to reflect her face when she stood a foot away, and when she reached out to touch the wall, she felt a warm, thrumming energy zing through her fingertips. The lighter blue floor was also shiny, but not slippery. The traction was great, (there was no need to worry about slipping and falling off a crosswalk and being erased from existence haha what?) and she could feel another energy, this one a bit colder, thrumming through her legs from the floor. It was bizarre and exhilarating and nerve-wracking all at once. Perhaps it was because she was technically a new SOUL, physically in the strange world she had come to love via a video game. She wanted to run, jump, fly—could she fly? She—

“If you’ve finished examining the wall, we should probably move along,” Gaster’s voice cut in impatiently.

Emmi blinked and gave an apologetic smile to the skeleton before making a “lead the way” gesture.

They continued through The Core, Gaster leading the way and keeping Emmi from wandering into the wrong rooms out of curiosity. Eventually they reached another elevator, this one leading to a path that was a gradient of blue to orange. They were approaching Hotland.

Emmi looked up and saw a tall building with a pair of glass doors leading into a room lit with a golden light. Gaster paused here. “There are people in here,” he said.

“I would hope so,” Emmi replied.

“I’d rather not deal with introducing you to everyone at the moment, so keep your head down.”

“What’s the magic word?” Gaster slowly turned and looked at her. Emmi stared back. They might have stood there for a while if Emmi hadn’t decided to let him win this round. “Please. The word was please,” she said quietly as she opened the doors and kept her eyes on the floor. Gaster followed after a second.

She would have loved to look at all lights and colors, architecture and people around her, but she was a woman of her word, so down her head stayed. Most of the monsters that were in the building must have been busy with their own thing, though, since no one seemed to call out to her or the doctor.

Then they were out of the building, and Emmi took the opportunity to whirl around and gaze up at the MTT Resort front. Like the Core, it was just like it was in the game, but also… more. The shiny gold letters above the doors glittered, as if there were lights hidden in the surface that twinkled. A humid breeze (?) rustled the bushes adorning the sides of the doors. She could hear chittering laughter coming from one of the alleys beside the building; Catty and Bratty, most likely.

Gaster cleared his throat (? Again?) and Emmi quickly snapped to attention and followed him away from the Resort, deep into Hotland. True to its name, it was hot. She wiped sweat from her forehead multiple times, and the hot steam puzzles didn’t help matters (turns out such puzzles are a lot harder to do when you can’t see all the launch platforms from above). Gaster wasn’t of much help either, but he sighed with what Emmi hoped was a bit of relief and a smidgen of pride when she landed on the other side of the final puzzle.

After wandering along the craggy orange paths for what felt like another half hour, they reached the Lab. “Air conditioning!” Emmi breathed.

Gaster glanced at her. “Only for less than a minute.”

“It’s all I need.” The doors opened, and Emmi sped walked into the cool air, taking deep, sighing breaths and smiling up at the ceiling.

“Dramatic,” Gaster muttered, shaking his head. From the corner of her eye, it looked like Gaster had a slightly amused smile on his teeth. Probably the best interaction she had had with him yet.

The first thing Emmi noticed about the Lab was how… clean everything was. There were no trash bins full of ramen noodle cups or crumpled up papers, no tables covered in anime figurines and more papers, and the big computer that she recalled Alphys using to monitor the player was gone. It almost looked empty without it all. Emmi thought to ask about it, but figured questions were probably better saved for once they reached Snowdin.

Once back outside the Lab, Gaster led her down a flight of stairs to the river. The stone floor changed from orange-y red to a deep blue, and the cooling sound of rushing water eased Emmi’s nerves in a way she hadn’t noticed she needed.

And there, as if they had been waiting for the two of them, was the Riverman (or River woman? It didn’t matter). “Tra la la. More than one new chapter is about to begin. Would you like to ride on my boat?”

“Hmm. Haven’t heard that one before,” Gaster said, more to himself than to Emmi, but he stepped onto the boat and sat on the seat directly behind the Riverperson. Emmi carefully sat opposite him, slinging off the back pack Asgore had given her and putting it under her seat. “Snowdin,” Gaster requested.

“Please,” Emmi finished, rolling her shoulders and arching her back a bit. Her wings (yes, she reminded herself for the twentieth time, she had wings now) weren’t super sensitive, but the pressure of having a relatively heavy backpack press into them for an hour felt… weird. Out of curiosity she tried to flutter her wings a bit. Nothing happened. It was like trying to tell you hand to move, the way you tell yourself what to have for breakfast: it just doesn’t work that way.

“Please and thank you. Magic words, indeed,” The Riverperson said. Suddenly, the boat rose above the surface of the water. Emmibee gasped in surprise and clung to the seat with her hands.

Gaster raised a bone brow at her. “I had assumed you knew that this happened sometimes,” he said. There was that barest trace of what Emmi could only hope was amusement.

“Seeing it happen is different from actually being there,” she explained, easing her grip.

“Tra la la. Look, it likes you.”

“What?” Emmi and Gaster turned to the front of the boat. The head of the boat was shaped like a dog/cat hybrid, and it seemed to have turned its head to smile at her. Emmi found herself rising to her feet and reaching towards it; to give it a head pat or hug, she wasn’t sure. “Aww…” she cooed. She was so focused on the doggy-kitty, she barely heard the fluttering sound behind her, like brand new sheets of cellophane flapping in the wind at high speed. She also didn’t notice Gaster looking over her shoulder with something akin to wonder.

“We are off,” The Riverperson said.

…Huh?

The boat jerked forward and bounded across the surface of the water. Emmi probably would have fallen back onto her seat under other circumstances, but the flapping sound stopped with a snap, and she looked behind her just in time to see her wings spread out like a sail before the sudden burst of air flowing by sent her flying back off of the boat. “AAAAAAA—!”

PING!

Something blue flashed in her vision and she felt a pair of hands scoop under her arms and pull her back to the boat. One second later, her face was in a warm fabric surface and there was a wheezing sound in her ear.

It was easy enough to put two and two together: her wings, acting on their own accord, went kite-mode and sent her airborne. Gaster had summoned magical hands to grab her before she went too far, and now she was in his arms. She couldn’t pinpoint what the wheezing sound was, though.

She peeked up at the skeleton and saw him staring down at her, both eyes glowing a mix of yellow and pink. The wheezing sound was coming from between his clenched teeth. Apparently, if you startled a skeleton enough, they’d start wheezing. They stared at each other for all of five seconds. Emmi broke the silence with the first thing that came to mind:

“Ehhh… What’s up, Doc?” Then she smacked her face back into Gaster’s chest to suppress her hysteric laughter.

“Tro lo lo,” the Riverperson laughed. Gaster did not seem to see the humor of the situation.

“DON’T EVER DO THAT AGAIN!” He cried with what was so obviously worry and concern, Emmi was now wheezing herself, trying to stop laughing. “DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT I’D DO IF SOMETHING HAPPENED TO YOU?!”

Emmi sobered quickly at that. She looked up at him again. “What would you do?” she asked.

“…” Gaster opened his jaw, then shut it again, desperately trying to come up with something clever and witty and aloof. “…I don’t know,” he finally said. “Just… don’t do that again.”

“Okay. I’m sorry, Dr. Gaster,” Emmi replied, even though she technically hadn’t meant to do any of this.

“A bee in the hand is worth two bushes,” the Riverperson quipped.

“What does that even mean?” Gaster groaned.

“We’ve arrived. Tra la la, both of you.” The boat dropped like a rock onto the surface and Emmi yelped, clinging tightly to Gaster. She hadn’t noticed it had gotten colder until she was no longer about to fall off the boat, but looking out to the side, she saw a pretty layer of white snow covering the ground next to the river.

Gaster quickly stood, grabbed a strap of Emmi’s back pack, and got off the boat, crunching the snow underfoot. The boat got back up on its legs, turned around, and ran back the way it came.

Gaster and Emmi stood there for a few seconds. Or rather, Gaster stood. He had yet to put Emmi down, and as much Emmi would have liked to stay near his warm, beating SOUL, she knew he’d never forgive her if she let him walk into the town with her like this. “You can put me down now, doctor,” she said.

Gaster blinked and scrambled to put her down without actually throwing her tiny body onto the snow, shoving the backpack into her arms when he had accomplished this. He straightened his lab coat and cleared his throat. “Ahem. Yes. Well, my house is less than a minute away. You should probably put on your coat.”

Emma made to reach into her bag, then paused and shook her head. “I can handle it.”

“…What?”

“I can handle it for a bit. Let’s go.”

“There is literal ice on the ground.”

“I kind of like the cold.”

“Your wings could freeze off.”

“Then we should move quickly, huh?”

“…Fine.” Emmi grinned up at him, pleased she had claimed her first verbal victory. Gaster adjusted his glasses, then blinked again and forced his hands to his sides. His eyes were still glowing, though they were much more pink than yellow now. “Let’s go. We have much to discuss—”

“Um, doctor?”

“What is it?”

“Your eyes,” she gestured to his face. “You might want to—”

Gaster put his hand to his good eye and seemed to notice the pink light reflecting on his bones. He blushed and blinked rapidly until the light went away. Yep, Emmi thought. This is the man I’m going to care for along with his children for the rest of my life. So fine.

“Let’s go,” Gaster repeated, pointing down the path. “And… thank you, for… that.”

“You’re welcome, Dr. Gaster.”

***

I can’t help but feel I have a tendency to start the story way ahead of the action, which fills the beginning with unrelated details, but maybe that’s part of the charm? I wouldn’t know, I don’t get a lot of feedback these days on my stories. But anyway, yeah.

I imagine suddenly having wings, even if they’re technically nonfunctional (at this point), could present some… unique situations. Emmi’s wings flutter when she’s excited (and Gaster thinks it’s cute), so I imagine they might react to other emotions, such as sticking out when startled, drooping when sad, etc. (What’s that? Emmi’s wings are technically under her new shirt she got from Asgore? And therefore this scenario couldn’t happen? And also her wings might not be strong enough to lift her whole body like this? … Shhh…)

I don’t know if all people notice these things when looking around, but I always love to look at as much of the lights, colors, and architecture in a new place as possible: big cities and rolling valleys of trees especially. People are kind of just there, unless I’m at an anime convention; then people are put into that first group, too.

*Bites a carrot* Ehhh… What’s up, Doc? I have no idea if Emmibee would be the type to quip in a situation as sudden as the one seen here (clearly, I have been watching too much Real Time Fandub Games), but minds do weird things sometimes; something I’m all too familiar with myself. Why Looney Tunes? I don’t know, I couldn’t think of a better quote that mentions a doctor (wait, here’s one: I’m a doctor, not an escalator!) Also I like comedy. Sue me. (Please do not.)

I had to use a lot of maps of the Underground for this chapter. I kind of forgot about the steam puzzles and where each elevator went until after I saw it and I was like “Oh. Welp.” I’m not actually sure how you would solve the steam puzzles if you weren’t able to visually map out your every move. Gaster has probably done this five hundred times and knows the right way by heart (or soul, I guess), but Emmi has never seen the puzzle from this perspective, and I’d be very surprised if she had taken the time to memorize each puzzle in the game before going into the world. Even then, perspective can change a lot.

Skeleton Eye Glowing! Pink and yellow, based on the correlating emotions on Zarla’s eye color chart. Yellow usually means fear or stress (and is also Gaster’s natural color), and pink means surprise or embarrassment. Gaster becomes more embarrassed once he realizes he’s been holding Emmi like a teddy bee to himself for half a boat ride, and it takes a second for him to return to his stoic, cool-guy persona. He really does appreciate Emmi looking out for his dignity, though.

I actually loved writing the Riverperson more than I thought I would? They’re just so cryptic while also being straightforward, but in a way that I? Like? Get? And understand? It’s like they’re speaking in poetry while also screwing with their patrons, and I’m just down for that. I’m sure I don’t have to tell anyone, but the line “More than one chapter is about to begin” refers to the meta of the story’s literal next chapter beginning soon, as well as the chapter in the life of Emmi, the life of Gaster, the life of the boys, and the life of them all as a family. Also, “A bee in the hands is worth two bushes” is a play on “an apple in the hand is worth two bushes” (See Veggietales: Larry Boy and the Bad Apple [which I don’t own]), which is a play on the actual phrase “a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush”. Technically, this phrase means “you should be content with what you have instead of losing it all to get more”, but I’ve always read it as “a small amount of something hard to get brings more joy than a lot of somethings you could see any day of the week.“ In this instance in the story, the Riverperson is referring to the latter, and is also just commenting on how rare it is for Gaster to be holding any person, and especially a special bee that got to him through special means.

Emmibee’s favorite part of the Underground is Snowdin, “no contest”. I would assume this is not only for aesthetic reasons (who can resist a snow-covered Gyftmas village?) but also for preference reasons. Emmibee was very immediate in her response to where in the Underground she wanted to live (Snowdin), which may have been so she’d be near Gaster, but I think it would make sense if she preferred snowier places anyway. Hence, she appreciates brisk, cooler temperatures to warmer ones, though a balance is always important. Freezing cold for a short amount of time could be exhilarating. Would her wings freeze off? Dragonflies survive the winter through some means, why can’t a bee monster? (Also, the whole monster thing; weather may not be as applicable to wing safety.)

Anyway, I think that’s all of the after thoughts I have. Thank you for reading all the way to the bottom! Maybe one day I’ll write another story for this AU. It’s a lot of fun! The AU, I mean. And also writing for the AU. Anyway, I’ll see you around. Until then!

~~~

okay #1: this is ADORABLE AND I LOVE IT SO MUCH

#2: it does make me feel better!!

#3: You’re correct in that “drafting a pattern” means making one! I’m using vintage drafting instructions for a vintage dress pattern, which is very exciting.

#4: I wouldn’t mind at all if you posted your stories, as long as you link them back to my and Zarla’s blogs! I would prefer if you posted on AO3, but since you’re already active on FF that’s just fine too. Send me the link when you post them and I’ll give you a promo!

#5: As far as names go, ah.... I’m no good at names either, honestly. It depends on what you want to emphasize in the story. What do you consider the crux of that particular chapter? Seeing Emma, her relationship with her father, Wings’ conversation with ZD or his mother? Maybe family relationships in general? That might be a good angle since that was the majority of the story. 

#6: This particular chapter is such an interesting take on the next leg of the story! You really captured Emmi’s excitement in being in the Underground for the first time, as well as her gentle teasing but caring attitude toward Gaster. “Yep, I’m gonna have this man’s babies.” OKAY NOT REALLY WHAT SHE SAID BUT THAT ENERGY THO

#7: I dont like to stomp on headcanons so I won’t address most of them, but I do want to comment on Emmi’s favorite place in the underground being Snowdin since that directly relates to me: My favorite place is Snowdin because it’s the only place in the Underground that truly feels like home. I actually hate the cold, haha. But the fact that the skelebros/Gaster live there, the music is lovely, and there’s Grillby’s and the librarby and gentle furry folk, it really speaks to my small-town-girl heart. Emmi’s main reason for requesting to go to Snowdin is definitely because of Gaster, but it’s a special place to me because it feels like home.

#8: The comedy is great, the fluff is great, I’m just. I love this and I love you and you do great work

[sheliesshattered]

This Isn’t A Ghost Story - Chapter 7: The Museum

Whouffaldi non-canon AU. 8 chapters, will be about 32,000 words when complete. Rated Mature for heavier themes in earlier chapters, please contact me privately if you’re worried about triggering topics. Clara Oswald/Twelfth Doctor. Mystery, pining and angst with a happy ending. Available on AO3 under the same username and title. Updates every Friday.

This Isn’t A Ghost Story

Chapter 7: The Museum

13 May 2021, Cairo

“I suppose it’s too much to ask that the museum stay open late for us, today of all days,” Clara said quietly, as they strolled side by side through the nearly empty Museum of Egyptian Antiquities. Even after so many years travelling the world together, she was still cautious about attracting any undue attention from curious strangers, aware as always that no one but her could see or hear her ghost.

“We’re lucky enough as it is that they’re open until nine p.m. on Thursdays,” the Doctor replied. “If the thirteenth had fallen on a Monday this year, we would have been stuck visiting before sunset, they close so early. In 1921, the museum was only open that late because of the party celebrating the new exhibit.”

“You know, until we started planning this anniversary trip, it hadn’t occurred to me that the thirteenth of May that year was a Friday,” she said. “So much for the unluckiness of Friday the thirteenth.”

“Actually, the ancient Egyptians considered thirteen to be a lucky number. To them it symbolised immortality, resurrection, and rebirth.”

“Well, there you go,” Clara said, laughing softly. “Or rather: here we are, a hundred years later. And you’re sure we met at nine?”

He nodded. “The lecture on the exhibit ended just before nine, and we met a few minutes later, as everyone started to disperse into the surrounding rooms. It was half past ten before my colleagues from the dig site were able to pull me away. Unfortunately the museum won’t let us stay that late tonight, but at least we can mark nine p.m. in the right place.”

“One hundred years,” she said, directing a quick smile his way. “Things have changed a bit since then, I suppose,” she added, looking around at the few remaining tourists, half of them reading information about the exhibits on their smartphones. She self-consciously adjusted the small bluetooth headset she wore for show, but no one seemed to be paying her any attention, thankfully.

“They have and they haven’t,” the Doctor shrugged. “The building itself hasn’t changed significantly since I first arrived in Egypt, and the public remains fascinated with the archaeology and the history of the region. Obviously the exhibits have been rearranged over the years, newly discovered artefacts added, but honestly it still looks quite like it did then.”

“I meant more the people than the place. I seem to remember the party in ‘21 being a bit more of a formal affair.”

“They still host black-tie parties here, now and then. We could come back for one someday, if you’re feeling nostalgic.”

“Might be worth another trip to Cairo, if we can figure out a way to get an invite,” she said. “Do you remember what I wore that night?”

The Doctor kept his gaze focused ahead of them and his face carefully blank, but Clara swore he would have blushed if he could. “Yes,” he said shortly.

She laughed fondly and leaned into his shoulder briefly, charmed by his awkwardness even after six and a half years of living as a married couple again. “You’ll have to describe it for me sometime. In a more private location.”

He hesitated then said, “We won’t be able to stay here long tonight, anyway. Play your cards right and I’ll describe it for you in detail once we get back to the hotel.”

“I’m going to hold you to that, mister,” she said, grinning.

They lapsed into comfortable silence as the Doctor led her confidently through the halls of the museum, ending in a smaller room tucked away from the main flow of the central corridor. They had the room to themselves, and Clara let herself relax, shedding her perpetual wariness of someone seeing her interact with her ghost.

“Oh, this wasn’t here before,” the Doctor said as they entered, sounding surprised and pleased. “This is lovely.”

“What is it?” she asked, bemused by his obvious interest.

“It’s a reproduction of the burial chamber of Thutmose the Third, which is in the Valley of the Kings, near Thebes,” he said, looking around at the illustrated walls and the stars painted on the low ceiling, his expression like a kid in a candy shop. “That’s the mummified pharaoh himself, just there,” he added, nodding to a glass-enclosed display case in the middle of the room. “And I imagine the other artefacts are from his tomb, as well.”

“The ceiling is just like my ring,” she noted, glancing up at the spindly stars against the dark blue and fiddling with her wedding ring, its stone opaque now in the diffuse artificial light.

“It was a popular artistic element in the Eighteenth Dynasty,” the Doctor said absently, as he leaned in to examine an intricately carved scarab figurine on display. “Thutmose the Third was the step-son of Hatshepsut, after all, whose temple I took you to see after you found me in Thebes.”

“I forget, sometimes,” Clara said affectionately, “that this is what you spent your life working on. Your true academic passion, above all your other many interests.”

He shot her a quick smile. “It’s why I was in Egypt in the first place, that night in 1921.”

“And you’re sure this is the right place?” she asked, looking around. “The room where we met?” Like the rest of the museum and Cairo in general, it felt vaguely familiar, but nothing specific jumped out at her.

“Quite sure,” he said, meandering around the edge of the room to join her again. “A friend of mine stood in that archway just there, off and on for the better part of an hour, trying to get my attention while I studiously ignored him.”

“Naturally,” she said lightly, “being that you were otherwise occupied with an intriguing stranger.”

“Luckily for me,” he said, smiling down at her.

“So, what are we looking at here?” she asked, gesturing to the complex mural of stylised stick figures that adorned every inch of the walls of the room. “Put that doctorate of archaeology to good use and tell me about this, as we count down to nine p.m.”

The Doctor stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her, and Clara leaned into him, glad for the relative privacy of the enclosed space and the rare chance to touch him while they were in public.

“It’s the Amduat,” he told her, his voice soft near her ear. “Which translates to ‘The Book Of What Is In The Underworld.’ It’s a funerary text that details the sun god Ra’s journey through the land of the dead each night, from sunset to sunrise, on a river that flows from west to east. It’s found painted in the tombs of several pharaohs and on various papyri fragments. The text is divided into the twelve hours of the night, the different gates that Ra — and the recently deceased, who travel with him — must pass through to reach rebirth with the sun at dawn.”

“The twelve hours of the night?” she said, glancing up at him. At his nod, she recited the last eight lines of the poem from memory:

He whispered, “And a river lies Between the dusk and dawning skies, And hours are distance, measured wide Along that transnocturnal tide— Too doomed to fear, lost to all need, These voyagers blackward fast recede Where darkness shines like dazzling light Throughout the Twelve Hours of the Night.”

“...Seriously?” the Doctor asked when she finished, his voice sour. “We’re standing in the middle of the Museum of Egyptian Antiquities and you’re subjecting me to Ashbless of all people?”

Clara laughed. “You say ‘The Twelve Hours of the Night’ and my mind spits out that poem. I studied English literature at university, it’s a reflex, I can’t help it.”

“You know, I’m not convinced he actually knew the first thing about Egypt, much less the Amduat. Most of the rest of that poem is complete gibberish.”

“He did live here in Cairo for a time,” she said reasonably.

The Doctor sighed in exasperation. “It’s two minutes ‘til nine,” he said. “Are we going to stand here and debate nineteenth century poets of questionable literary value, or can we enjoy the moment?”

Laughing again, she turned her head and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “Yes, let’s just enjoy the moment. Who else gets to celebrate their hundredth anniversary, after all?”

“Technically that’s not for another two years yet. And we’d have to go to Glasgow,” he added, and Clara knew without looking at him that he was making a face at the thought.

“Our wedding anniversary, sure. But I meant the anniversary of when I fell in love with you.”

The Doctor was quiet for a moment. “You think it was that night?” he asked softly.

“I know it was,” she answered in a similar tone, squeezing his hands where they were clasped low on her stomach. “I wouldn’t have followed you to Thebes otherwise. It just took me a while to put the word to the feeling.”

“You were — what was the phrase you used? — an intriguing stranger for me that night. But when you showed up at the dig site, that’s when I knew.” He took a deep breath and sighed it out, stirring strands of her hair. “I also knew you were less than half my age, far too beautiful for the likes of me even if you hadn’t been, and extremely unlikely to return my feelings.”

“And how’d that work out for you?” she asked playfully.

“Quite well, as fate would have it,” he said, and she could hear the smile in his tone.

Before she could reply, she felt him go rigid behind her, then sway in an alarming way. “Are you alright?” she asked, concerned.

“Bit lightheaded all of a sudden,” he said. “I think I ought to sit.”

She helped him to a bench at the back of the room, grateful that his hand remained solid in hers. Nothing like this had ever happened before. Possible explanations crowded her mind for why a ghost might feel lightheaded, none of them good.

“What is it?” she asked him, worry twisting her gut.

“I don’t know,” he said, his voice distant. “I feel strange...”

Clara knelt in front of him looking up at his face, so familiar and beloved, now alarmingly pale and drawn. Somewhere in the distance she could hear an announcement, repeated in multiple languages, that it was nine p.m. and the museum was closing. She ignored it and focused on the Doctor, and on her fear that something had just gone terribly wrong. There was a sudden knot in her stomach, a growing dread that this happy semblance of a life they’d managed to build together the last six and a half years couldn’t possibly last.

“Is this it?” she said, and she could hear the panic colouring her voice. “Have we run out of time? A hundred years exactly and I’ll have to lose you all over again?”

“My Clara,” the Doctor murmured, his low voice cutting through her frantic rambling. “All I ever wanted was more time with you...”

“No, you’re saying goodbye, don’t say goodbye!” she cried, cupping his face with one hand. The pain of that possibility rippled through her, the unimaginable thought of facing a future without him. “Don’t go. Stay with me,” she said desperately. “You promised. You promised you would stay.”

He found her gaze, his eyes red-rimmed as tears began to form. “Clara.”

“Everything you’re about to say, I already know,” she told him before he could say anything else, afraid that at any second, he would fade out of existence right in front of her. “I’ve always known. If this is it, if this is all the time we get—” Her voice cracked, her tears overwhelming her, and she shook her head. “Until the stars all burn from the sky, that’s how long you’re stuck with me. That’s how long I’ll love you. I will find you again someday. I promise.”

The Doctor took her hand from his face and kissed her knuckles tenderly, and she clung to the solidness of him, trying to commit it to memory one final time, in case this was the last moment of this life she had left with him. He had been abruptly stolen from her once before, on that horrible night in 1927, and suddenly the agony of that was fresh and new all over again, threatening to swallow her whole.

“I love you, my Clara,” he said despite her assurances that she already knew. He squeezed her fingers, and raised his other hand to wipe a tear from her face. “I’ll love you ‘til the end of the universe.” His gaze held hers, blue eyes flecked with green that she would never, ever forget. “And I know how much you like to be right,” he went on, his voice gentle. “But just this once... Do you think you could bear it if you were totally and completely wrong?”

She blinked up at him, tears catching in her lashes. “What?” she asked, uncomprehending, as he moved her hand to press flat against the left side of his chest. It took her a moment to understand, to register the strong and steady heartbeat under her palm, utterly strange and unexpected after so many years grown accustomed to the lack of it. She stared at her hand in disbelief, then raised her eyes to his face, realising that he no longer looked nearly so pale. “How?” she demanded.

He shrugged, smiling softly at her. “Honestly? I’ve no idea. Lucky thirteen, perhaps?” he suggested. “I can’t claim to understand it. But it feels so distinctly different from the last ninety-three years, I can’t really question it, either.”

“We get more time,” Clara breathed.

“We get more life,” he corrected. “A real second chance. Somehow, we’ve passed through the twelve hours of the night, and now the sun is rising again.”

She stared at him for a moment, her heart still stuttering in shock at the sudden reversal of their fortunes, then leaned up on her knees and kissed him soundly, reveling in the living warmth rolling off of him. Her living, breathing, very much not dead husband. The reality of it was better than anything she could have wished for, and she clung to him, hardly believing what had just happened.

“Sir, ma’am?” called an unfamiliar voice as they broke apart. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but it’s after nine p.m. and the museum is closing.”

“Quite alright,” the Doctor replied, his gaze never leaving Clara’s face. “It’s time we were getting home, anyway.”

--

Chapter 8: The Temple

[in-tua-deep]

Ok so imagine that instead of running away as a kid, Five stays. However when Ben is supposed to die, it's Five instead and so Ben lives but Five's now a ghost and only Klaus can see him. What do you think would be the reason Five ends up dying, and how do you think the others would react?

OOF you just come into my house?? and hit me with that?? absolutely illegal

So Five stays. Five stays and they’re what, fifteen? They go on a mission, and one of them doesn’t come home.

It was supposed to be Ben. It wasn’t.

Five can jump through space, can warp into position, he’s frightening adept at it since he abandoned time travel and focused entirely on improving everything else he could about himself. He’s very very good at his job, and he’s the only one that notices something is about to happen

Maybe Ben has lost control of his powers, and Five is the only one to notice. Five sees Ben tearing himself apart and realizes that he’s the only one who can get close enough to knock Ben out, so he jumps and he manages but he’s not quite fast enough and Ben is out and the tentacles are retreating but not before one can grab him and hurl him into the wall with a sharp crack and then - darkness.

Maybe it’s not Ben’s powers at all. Maybe it’s a bank robber they didn’t account for, one who is frightened and has a gun and who has seen these terrible frightening children murder their fellows and they have a spouse and children and they don’t want to die here over money so they pull up their gun and they take the shot (at Ben, at the biggest danger) and Five sees them from the corner of his eye and without even thinking about it he - jumps. In front of Ben. He takes the bullet because Ben is the best of them, is the kindest of them, and he doesn’t have a single consideration for his own life only for Ben’s.

Maybe it’s something different, but no matter what it is the facts remain the same: Five sees a danger, Five is the only one who can reach his brother in time, Five acts without even thinking, Five dies

Five pops up again, gasping and realizing very quickly that he’s dead. He’s incorporeal, he’s standing at the scene of his own murder, people pass through him when he tries to get attention. But it’s established in the show that they can use their powers as ghosts so Five does what he does best: he jumps. He goes home. He realizes that one of his siblings can see ghosts, and he finds Klaus.

And Five isn’t Ben. He isn’t soft, he’s always been hard angles and sharp words - so when Klaus hesitates to tell the others about Five, Five offers proof. Various pieces of blackmail he’s gathered on the others over the years just in case, things that Klaus would never know. He bugs Klaus into calling a family meeting without Reginald and makes Klaus translate his comments because he’ll be fucking damned if Ben blames himself for Five’s choices. That’s not allowed to happen.

“But Klaus, I thought you couldn’t see ghosts when high?” One of them ask, because they aren’t blind and they know Klaus does drugs to deal with his powers.

“I mean, it’s Five.” Klaus says despondently, looking at where Five is waving his hand through Luther’s head with a fascinated stare, “If anyone could decide to defy all the rules it’s fucking him.” and they accept that because of course they would

and because this is me and i make the rules in my aus I say that this brings them closer together as a whole because Five isn’t Ben, he isn’t content just interacting with Klaus. He doesn’t stick to Klaus’s side by glue, he’s floating through the halls of the manor and then pops up in Klaus’s room like “Hey bitch go to Vanya’s room she’s sad and I want to give her the book on music theory that’s under my bed so up an’ at ‘em you get to me my legs”

“what if i don’t want to?” Klaus asks, only once

“then you get to hear the dulcet tones of me singing the song that’ll get on your nerves until you do” Five threatens, with a look that says it is NOT an empty threat so Klaus hops to

Five pushes at the boundaries of what he can do as a ghost. Ben can pick up books in the show, right? Five pick up books and throws them. He shakes cabinets when he’s angry. He’s basically a weak poltergeist with a very limited ability to interact with his surrounding - maybe he can only interact with objects he had a connection with in life? But in the mansion there are plenty objects he has enough of a connection with to manipulate SO the whole family gets to deal with shit being thrown at them by an irritable Five

Five debates haunting the shit out of Reggie but Klaus begs him not to, because then their dad would just make Klaus try control Five or blame him for it, so Five deals with just making sarcastic comments whenever Reginald is talking and also petty shit like,, giving him bunny ears or sticking his limbs through Reginald’s chest or hell even just gently breakdancing while Reggie is lecturing and Klaus has to really fucking try to not bust out laughing which is its own issues

Klaus gets special training in the mausoleum, and Five gets to go with. Five doesn’t know how to help with this, and maybe in another world Ben curls up next to Klaus and tries to softly comfort him but that’s never been Five’s style. He yells. He’s gonna be the SCARIEST FUCKING GHOST FIRST OF ALL HOW DARE THESE GHOSTLY LOSERS TRY AND FREAK OUT HIS BROTHER. Five is gonna find out whether a ghost can kill another ghost by being a a rabid chihuahua at these ghosts. He’s going to sing backstreet boys songs at the top of his fucking lungs to drown out these weirdos and make Klaus laugh. Maybe he jumps out of the room and jumps back with a flashlight or a book or something else in the manor that he can interact with, to keep Klaus entertained

Five has always had the attitude of being proactive about these things

Five goes on missions with them, Luther makes a dumb fucking plan and gets shivers down his spine and is immediately like “Klaus tell Five to stop sticking his limbs in my body” “Five says he will when you stop having little bitch ass plans” “I’m pretty sure he didn’t say that” “Actually that was a direct quote and also he’s flipping you off right now”

They get older. Klaus gets taller. Diego’s voice drops. Luther packs on more muscle. Five stays the same.

He’s dead, of course he wouldn’t grow. 

That doesn’t stop him from yeeting books off the shelves in a tantrum when he realizes that he’s doomed to be the shortest of the siblings except for Vanya for all eternity. 

(”Klaus what the fuck is wrong with Five now?” Diego asks. It’s the middle of the night. Books are flying off the shelves. Klaus is so tired, so very tired. “Five has realized that he is dead.” “…Yes?” “Dead people do not grow.” “Just say it Klaus.” “Five has realized he’s not going to get taller and is permanently fifteen and is angry about this.” “…alright well good luck with that, I guess.”)

They’re on a mission. They’re on a mission and Five is the ultimate lookout because he isn’t stopped by little things like walls or people seeing him or whatever. Five sees something about to happen, and he yells and something happens and Klaus’s hands are blue and Five zips through space and reaches his sibling (let’s say Diego why not) and he pulls even though he knows he’ll go right through but the guy is right there and he can’t watch his brother die and - 

Five does not go through Diego. Five pulls Diego to the side and the blow that should have killed him misses, and Diego lives, and Five touched him.

(Five is the scariest ghost around, and the other ghosts haven’t been bothering Klaus - so he’d been weaning himself off of the drugs for a while now, Five often needed him to do things that were difficult to do when drugged out of his mind and Klaus figured it was an even trade for Five scaring off the other ghosts so - he’s sober)

Diego has a knife, and he killed the guy, but his eyes are locked with Five’s the entire time because he can see Five. 

the whole family is shocked, even when Klaus gasps and the blue from his hands vanishes and so does Five to everyone but him. they look at each other and just stare. 

“tell luther if he tells dad i’m going to flood his bathroom again” five says, just a little hysterically. “what the FUCK klaus” says the rest of the family

they get home, and somehow Reginald finds out and he has a whole speech about Number Four’s potential and shit and the fact that he can summon Number Five and how perhaps it wasn’t as much of a loss as he thought if Five was still around as a ghost and later they all gather in one of the rooms which has become a commonplace occurrence when Five wants a family meeting and he’s always been willing to pull the ‘dead’ card

(before they gather, Klaus and Five sit in Klaus’s room practicing making Five corporeal and the first thing he does is hurl himself into Klaus’s arms and hug him. Because he’s still 15, he hasn’t touched anyone else since he died and his inability to touch his siblings hurt no matter how many times he poked fun of it by walking through them)

so they have a meeting, and blue glows across Klaus’s hands and Five is visible and the first thing Five says to his family in years is - “Me and Klaus are leaving, who’s coming with?”

Because they’re almost eighteen now, close enough to leave and not have it look too suspicious. And maybe Five didn’t run this plan by Klaus first because Klaus is shocked but Five doesn’t even blink because - Dad knows. Dad is going to want to train Klaus further and experiment with his powers and if that fucking mausoleum is any indication then Reggie has no idea how Klaus’s powers work or how to train them without hurting Klaus. And also Five has spent years now being technically out from under his dad’s thumb, there’s no way he’s sliding back under it

maybe luther protests, but Five is just like “Look, if Dad makes Klaus make me corporeal in his vicinity i’m going to snap his neck simple as that. I’m a vengeful ass ghost, okay? What’re you gonna do about it? Kill me twice?”

and they’re closer than in the original timeline. Five has floated through the halls and seen every instance of them being sad and made Klaus intervene - everyone in this room has had Klaus pull them close and hug them or listen to their problems or give them company or provide them with random books that Five probably picked out - and and and they all care for each other and know each other more than before. And Five includes Vanya, so she’s always there and Five WILL pull the dead card to keep her there because he wants her there and - 

they all agree. Diego is instantly in, he was planning on ditching as soon as he turned 18 anyway. Ben is in, because he’s close with Klaus and with Five. Vanya hesitantly pledges her support, because she’s so tired of Reginald calling her ordinary. Allison shrugs and says she’s in because it’s not like she wasn’t also planning on leaving when she was old enough, okay? Luther is shocked they’re all willing to ditch so easily but… at the same time… Five and Klaus have, over the years, opened his eyes to more than one glaring issue with their father so… tentatively he’s like “okay, i guess someone has to be the leader”

and they gather what they can, and they leave, they leave reginald a note which basically lets him know they’re leaving willingly and not to look for them or anything since they’re almost 18 anyway etc etc. and they go out into the world

they get jobs! they support each other! and maybe the shitty apartments that are all they can afford are too small for 8 people to share, but at least rent goes 7 ways (and it’s not like Five eats or anything) and they can shove blankets and pillows on the floor in front of their shitty TV and eat their shitty pizza and laugh as they watch all the movies they were never allowed back home

Luther gets a job as a mechanic, because he’s always been good at things like that. He remembers wanting to be an astronaut as a kid. He remembers studying rocket ships with wide eyes and putting together model planes and he’s good with his hands and strong and he’s surprisingly good at it. His boss definitely knows Luther is a runaway but has a soft spot for him and is full of gruff advice and gentle praise that Luther flourishes under.

Diego decides to try for the academy with the support of his siblings behind him, and he doesn’t drop out. He meets Eudora and the others all tease him about it. There has been at least one occasion that Five followed him to the academy without Diego’s know how and then told Klaus all about Diego’s awkward flirting

Allison gets into the theater scene and tries out for parts that she gets without even rumoring anyone. Because at the end of the day, she’s good - she’s a good actor. She ends up getting some small parts in movies as well, and the others proudly go see her in theaters and have any movie with her as even a background character in a place of pride on their shelves.

Klaus isn’t ambitious like the rest of the siblings, but he ends up working in a yarn shop run by several old ladies who he’s pretty sure adopted him the moment he said about not having parents in the interview. They teach him know to knit and let him do it between customers at the register. Five likes to run around the yarn shop and try bat balls of yarn off the counters like an asshole cat in between suggesting patterns and critiquing Klaus’s yarn choices. Eventually, Klaus sets up Five with his own set of knitting needles and the old ladies look at the needles clacking and apparently knitting by themselves and Klaus ends up telling them about his dead 15 yr old brother because I mean. He’s from the Umbrella Academy it’s not exactly like he’s an unknown with his powers, and that means that the old ladies absolutely fuss over this child ghost and help him with his technique

(that year, all of his siblings receive knitted socks and hats and scarves from Five on their shared birthday and Five is so pleased to be able to contribute something to the family again, even if they’re all still at a loss of what to give their ghostly brother)

Ben ends up going to college and going on to medical school because he deserves it and he gets scholarships to help out but all of the siblings chip in to put the siblings who want to through school, and Ben gets a part time job as a barista or something between his demanding classes but at the end of the day he wants to help people (he doesn’t want to be useless, like he was the day that Five died, wants to be able to save lives instead of just taking them - because the Horror doesn’t define who he is, and it never has)

Vanya goes to school as well!! She’s a violin prodigy! and they leave without telling their dad beforehand so she goes to get her pills refilled only to find out that they don’t have these pills actually what the fuck are they I’m assuming they’re special and Reginald supplied them somehow idk, and it’s not like the family can afford medication in THIS economy anyway so maybe she just stops taking them and hopes she can handle her anxiety without

and that’s how they find out Vanya has powers oops

OH you know what Vanya absolutely trains her powers with Five and Klaus making him corporeal because, as Five so eloquently puts it when they drive into the countryside, “What’s she gonna do? Kill me twice? as if” and that’s how Vanya learns how to control her powers and she still gets to go to school and she gets to join the orchestra and be first chair because fuck it she’s a goddamn prodigy and passionate about her craft and i love her, she deserved the world

they all grow and they change and they stick together as well as they can with all their varying schedules. they grow, except for Five who is still fifteen years old and who managed to save his family at the cost of his own life. 

But it’s okay. He hands Luther wrenches at his work and freaks out the other mechanics. He talks to ghosts for Diego so that Klaus doesn’t have to (because Klaus has always has a weaker stomach for blood and things than Five, and Five is dead he can see ghosts too that’s a thing). He haunts Allison’s sets until she puts her hands on her hips and scolds him about messing with her co-workers. He knits in Klaus’s shops and shows off socks and scarves to little old ladies with a pride he isn’t sure what to do with. He helps Ben study by holding up flashcards even if he isn’t visible. He goes to all of Vanya’s rehearsals and prods at the harps and pianos with curious ghostly fingers. 

He’s a constant presence in their lives, and they love him. And he loves them.

Five doesn’t leave. Ben lives. Five dies. Everything changes, but the one thing that will never change is that they are a family. No matter what, they have each other - in life and in death.

[mikkock]

Uhm??????? Unacceptable?? Please tell me more about your OCs in that last art? I demand it? I want a full report on my desk before morning? Cite your sources please?

Oh no,, you’re asking,,, about my own faves,,, sorry to everyone, but I guess im never going to shut up ever now. (i already don’t shut up ever, what have u done, im now going to speak so much that society will collapse AT LEAST)

But for real. I enjoy pretending I don’t have faves, I love all my kids the same, buT WE ALL KNO THAT’S A LIE, those two my fave bitches (they snatched that title from the last two faves, rip to them, and they also snatched, n I must really make that clear, the title of “the bitches with the most AUs from the previous previous faves. Their power.)

SO. Get ready for a ride, table of content: them, their respective character, their story, and the pLETHORA OF ALTERNATE STORIES I GAVE THEM because i must yell about all the versions of my kids i have (non-exhaustive cause its that serious bro, but ill take extra time for the universe depicted in that art just for u bby). (tbh if clamp is allowed to sprinkle their fave gays in all their universes so am i, except they aint secondary characters there, every story is just theirs. love that concept.)(itll be so long you’re getting a whole novel even if i have to post it in two posts)

So~ Em twos. Dari n Wei-wei as I call em, or Dumbass n Egg if you wanna get friendly.

They’re my proudest instance of “oops i made a squad of characters, and two of them just accidentally were so perfectly compatible and complementary oh no I guess they’re in love now.” And then they became my favourite. Cause I guess their potential was too much (jk its bc they hot)

cuties.

I spent ten minutes wondering which to introduce first cause dang son, I want to talk bout them both so much shefjgfdg

First, as I technically designed him first (like ten minutes before the other), my man weiwei. if u ever saw my art its impossible that you havent seen him at least once. cause i’m legit always drawing him. cause im in love bro.

Demonstration : here are my computer scribbled weiweis of 2020 so far (with a few daris there n there they’re a package deal), that i could find, and they do not include all the paper sketches that i’m too lazy to take pics of. (i just been drawing him with so much hair these days that’s illegal, his brand is baldness)

But anyway, he’s CHEN Chia-Wei, he’s 21, he’s Taiwanese n I love him. Two very important facets of his character when you meet him: he doesn’t talk, and is absolutely, in every single dimension, built to make you fall head over heels for him.

He’s (in the “canon” storyline if i may call it that since it’s def not my most developed one but oh well) an art student, mostly paints but is also great at photography and videography (his vibe is busy hectic pieces with strong bold colours, lots of harsh edges, and very people focused).

Aside from that, he’s also super into fashion, and because he’s part of the rich boy squad (the “im broke so im giving half my characters wealth in compensation) he Can and Does exhibit some quite funky fits when he feels like it. (maybe a reason I draw him a lot, since my fave thing is pretty boys in weird ass clothes)(and then i also draw him in just casual shit cuz tittiful men in plain white tees you know. there’s just something about it.)

Small compilation of outfits. ft me and my band handwriting roasting outfits that id also kill to own but ok u know.

He digs music. (i make playlists for my OCs and i gotta say, his is the best one, i spent so many hours researching it, “arranging” it etc n its still a work in progress but dude. she got many moods my fave part is when it suddenly turns into so many cheesy ballads also she’s enormous cause im as wordy in playlists as I am in writing.) listens to a lot, n also he can play piano n guitar. cause you know. heartthrobs got to win your heart with a song (and if he’s alone he can even mumble some songs, who knows maybe even sing em softly, definitly a sight to stumble on accidentally). Big main artists that have his vibes are Hello Nico, No Party for Cao Dong, n Circa Waves’s “what’s it like over there” album.

He does a lot of sports. He ain’t fit through magic, rip to him. He’s got a serious routine, and it’s a time he likes to use alone, cause nothing like running at the break of dawn, alone with your thoughts, which you can just easily forget through the exhaustion of a workout session afterwards.

he also eats. A lot. Food is just good, bro. (the canon story is def happening some place europe aka his biggest struggle is how expensive food is here. outrageous.)

He secretly loves super cheesy movies. the dramatic romcoms??? the cute shows that are just so cute and worriless?? anything involving soulmates??? yeh dude. he watches it, he reads it, he listens to it, and he may cry about it, but no one will know. That’s the one true guilty pleasure. (and he definitly has a collection of romance dvds, books n manhuas in his old room back at the family home. where no one can see it. perks of studying abroad. no one can see ur hoarding of material that clashes your image. “yes i watch edgy experimental things haha yes i love those smart people movies of course wow the philosophy…” and then immediatly goes to watch the trashiest predictable but oh so sweet dramas all night)

While he doesn’t speak (as in with the mouth) he can communicate in a bunch of language, due to having moved around quite a bit. On top of his native mandarin and hokkien, he’s fluent in English, so he can use those to write, and is also fluent in TSL, and pretty good in HKSL (and from that, other close-in-syntax sign languages). So he doesn’t have trouble getting around, but then he is also overall quiet in public (with close friends and over text though, that’s another story, that’s where he gets chattier, and also where you may get more of his true personality). Also, he can speak with his sister. That’s pretty cool bro.

I was going to say he’s a very “hides his true colours under a shell” type of character but you know, for an egg character, that’s pretty ironic. We love poetic cinema.

He presents himself as a very laid back, chill detached dude, going with the flow and all that great stuff, and masterfully mixes just the right doses of mysterious, flirty and calm to just go around vibing. But ain’t that jUST THE MILLENIAL’S ILLNESS, those dANG KIDS, going around, gettin relationships but never intimacy 👏😢 (there’s more to it dont leave)

First of all, before you see the Drama, the Turmoil, the first thing you notice when you really do befriend him is that he’s c h i l d i s h, he gets sulky when things dont go following the plan, he gets whiny n jealous for not getting attention , he gets competitive over stupid challenges, and way too playful if you start teasing, and when he gets flustered too…you think you get cool stoic dude but actually you get a dude who’s reacting to things with way too much intensity, and boi i thought u were gon be mature what’s that why have you been pouting for three days over losing a bet come on- That’s mostly coming up when he interacts with his sister, but the closest you are to him to more of it you get to see.

He’s also an affectionate dude actually. Like physically. As in you’ll get spontaneous hugs. He’s come nap on your shoulder. That’s a perk of befriending him if you ask me.

Also he tries to look so cool, so tough haha. He’s actually a lil sensitiv boi. he gets fluffy, he gets flustered, he heart eyes. you turn around and he’s gazing at ya as if you were the whole universe. he gets a mini crisis for holding hands with his crush. ya know. he’s secretly a softie.

nerd.

Then in the “what he doesn’t show” (my fave part), where you stock all the anxieties, all the trauma… Obviously there’s a lot of anxiety here (selective muteness being a symptom of it, he hides the other ones very well) mostly fear of inadequacy, of abandonement and of loneliness. mmmmmmmaybe that’s why he was v reticent to continue pursuing that one guy he was into when he realised he was just a tad too into him oh no is that some,, like?? some lovey-love?? cant have that im afraid of gettin heartbroken bro. Aint that sad for a someone who’s one true goal is just findin someone to love and to be with forever, the struggles of yearnin for a soulmate when there’s nothing you fear more than getting attached to a person and letting them see you and your flaws.., delicious.

Now tho (because its so alone speaking about a character on their own and i just wanna get to the part where i can speak bout em together and how they bring out bits of each others ya kno, the good kush….), Dari…

He’s pretty, i must say, and got the funniest hair to draw, and comes from the most opposite background to weiwei’s.

Darian Andriev PARVANOV, also 21, comes from the remote Bulgarian countryside, but i still love him (this makes it sound as if i wouldnt normally love someone from the bulgarian countryside. its not what i meant. by default ud remind me of my son so you’d start being liked if u came from the bulgarian countryside) Now for the first instance of “wow, the complementarity”. The first thing i thought making Dari was that he looked too cool, and that he obviously was a dumbass, and mostly that he was physically unable to shut up. (o fuck he’s me)

best picture i could find of him. He’s got the dilemma of “wow he looked so pretty n cool until he opened his mouth” 

He’s ALSO an art student (cause they were initially created for the purpose of filling the gap of “i have ocs in every field except the one i sorta know that’s so stupid”), painting major (def vibes differently than weiwei though, he’s doing those soft pretty landscapes n flowers, everything real pretty and peaceful, we got some impressionism nerd in here folks). 

He was/is a real country boy, farm family, he helped tend the fields, he worked in plantations for pocket money, he knows how to take care of cattle and chicken and goats and all the cool babies you can take care of, he can tell whether the soil is good or not, he can drive a tractor, and doesnt fear dirt.

but then also he’s kind of a neat freak, he hates getting paint on himself, so the duality of man, dirt ok but paint? disgostin. his spaces are real neat and spotless, he likes cleaning (its relaxing) and does it nearly too often.

his dumbassery comes from lack of common sense and impulsiveness, aside from that he’s actually what you’d call “mad smart”, dude had em good grades, he can memorise pages upon pages of the most trivial information, he has an accumulation of knowledge beyond limits, and is good at problem solving. so he can recite all the words of the F letter of the dictionnary, but would also put a curling iron in his mouth to see if it would curl his tongue. (side note, he does have a problem with heat n fire, most his “oopsie how i wound up hurting myself on acccident” story involve burning -that stove was just too tempting…)

while he doesnt feel very attached to his home country, he does feel strongly for his family. he’d do anything for his mum (and actually does everything to make her proud already, that’s his one main goal), and he’s ready to sacrifice a lot for her (as in, spend years working non-stop a really uncomfortable job so his mother wouldnt have to pay a cent of his expenses even though she said she could by doing some sacrifices herself,and then being ready to come back as soon as needed if anything happened, and potentially drop his career and dream n go back to the farm life to provide for mama)(also he still does hold onto some parts of his home country’s traditions, and does sometimes feel homesick but more in a ‘i left the most beautiful landscapes n the city feels cramped and claustrophobic and i dont know people and i dont feel in the right place cuz im a forreigner with a thicc accent who doesnt master the language of this place and straight up have different body language communicators due to cultural difference oh lord i wanna be home where a nod means no and a head shake is yes i keep misunderstanding everything”)

if you want background noise he’s the perfect pal to call over, he’s just so chatty, he got hours and hours of non stop speech ready for you. you can shut him up once you’re done listening with the offering of food. works everytime.

he’s definitly not shy. neither in terms of talking to people, nor when it comes to making decisions. he’s quite bold, and rarely hesitates to go towards something he wants. he’s direct in his approach to most everything.

he likes partying. mostly the socialising part, talkin to people is just fun ya feel. and being in the crowd, doing whatever, pressure free? ya can dance n enjoy yourself, and people wont notice? yeah that’s nice. but doesnt do it super often cause broke bitches aint got the party time n budget. 

he likes arm. (just an excuse for me to drop this thing here cuz i like it)

While he’s an overall bubbly looking character, with a cheery loud personnality, he does carry some youth trauma that has him more reticent to engage in happiness, he comes from what you could call “not the wokest background” and he may have fallen victim of it : he’s kind of a flashy noticeable character, both physically and in his personnality, and doesnt exactly matches the expectations of dudes in the area he comes from (delicate, emotional and sweet guy? that doesnt exist bro). He went through it, and it has definitly had some impact on his confidence in many aspects. But he’s 100% the type of guy to put on the fake happy front because if feeling bad is sad, making the people you care about sad for you too is Unacceptable Right??? relying on friends?? what???

But then what are we supposed to be doing with such charming characters huh,,, 

Make them fall in love obviously.

Their story obviously has to do with falling in love and workin a relationship cause if I dont write romance i literally die, but I make the center pivot of all of it communication, and barriers in communications. Most obvious being them coming from wildly different cultures, having different native languages, and also the ways you adapt to muteness (what i love most bout that part is even then they fucked up given the easiest quickest small body language things to communicate are head nods n then i managed to make one come from the one country that reverses those like iconic how do they even understand each other -through a lot of work and love bro) but also on more “introspective” points, how to say things that you are even afraid to think about, how to open up and share your burdens and trauma with someone, how to say words you’ve been convinced you weren’t allowed to, the inner turmoil of communication in short. And then also communication through art, and through alternative unusual ways. If i were snobbish i could call it something like “a thinkpieces on how humans overcome obstacles in communication, and adapt, all for the sake of pursuing love” but fact is its mostly boys being in love n learning how to speak, figuratively and also quite literally. And also its me having fun with making characters evolve from each other, be able to influence each other for the better, helping each other be more comfortable with themselves and express the true things of their personnality, and discover new aspects. I just wanna write intense and soulful love bro.

So in less concept and more facts, weiwei meets dari, dari being his puppy self just immediatly strikes a conversation and weiwei gets interested cause “oho nice pretty boy? very good. i want some of that”. they get closer because you cant fight off the Power of friendship (and also the power of “what your friend is bestie with my friend?? guess we hanging out”) and then friendship and interest turns into pining, held back by respective dread of what romance with the other would mean (as in “romance?? cant have that we cant feel” and “with him?? cant do that, convince yourself he’s just a friend immediatly what would the family think”) but eventually they do have to just crash into one another cause that’s just the gravitational pull bro, its physics bro. and from then on its all unlearning destructive behaviours, bettering oneself with the help of the other, and getting over trauma to finally live ur best life. and gettin fckin married bro they’re both cheeseballs theyll wanna wed

BUT MAKING EM FALL IN LOVE ONCE ISNT ENOUGH time to make 3894853 alternate universes about em.

Lets speak bout my fave of those for a hot second.

First of all, the one of the art that brought this ask, guess i could call it “Pretty Tribes” AU, bunch of tribes live and do their things, having nature and energy powers. Dari n Weiwei’s tribes are bros, the latter’s powers needing them to move around to get energy from different places, enabling them different abilities. So basically they get to hang at the other’s place while the regenerate energy from there, and in exchange they help them out with various tasks (dari’s tribe is a rly farmer oriented one, with plant magic, while weiwei’s got more poyvalent powers, and have very good healers notably, so it comes in handy). The two boys were born a few months apart in their respective tribes, so naturally, anything the two clans meet, they’re put together to play and all, and from that they became besties, and each time they meet, after the gaps of time separating the two groups, they feel more and more of a little something else~ story is themed round growing up, friendship between clans, their traditions and cultures, and pretty boys in pretty clothes in pretty landscapes interacting with nature.

The superpower AU, i fuckin love it bro. Its an old one, made for other characters, but i just love it so much that i had to inject my faves in it. Its got a grimy ugly setting, bad government, propaganda, and fights between super-people (heavily mediatised for entertainment and reinforcing the idea that “look at these evil villains thank god us the good government protects you from them”), with a side of bad ethics in science. In all that, those two have the role of “those two young enemy warrior and villain, they were so powerful and fought so hard”, public figures, legendary and admired by both sides, everyone followed their fights, til one day they presumably died in one of their showdowns. (haha sike they actually found themselves talking for 5 seconds and realised they lived in a society, n built a plan to run away). The main characters get to find they’re alive because one of em had history with super-warrior-golden-boy and go to seek their help to overthrow the Big Bads. (stealing them from their nice gay cottage hermit life smh so rude)

Mermaids. I like those. Sailor weiwei sees merman dari, they both save each other in different occasions, they grow fascinated with each other, they’re at sea, water romance. Amazing. AU made half cuz i just like water n fish. and shirtless sailors.

(i couldnt find art of it in five minutes so have a link to that lil animatic piece i made of it once)

Indie band AU, where i was listening to songs that vibe so well with those two in general n then my brain was like “what if they’re the ones playing”. They’re (along with the rest of the art squad) a nice little alternative rock band, doing their thing, then one of their songs blows up, and they get quite the attention, to the dismay of dari who wrote that song in a moment of “oh no im so in love with my bandmate but i cant tell him what if i ruin everything we have going on ill just have to love from afar and deal with that” and now has way too many people interested in who he wrote it about and theorising from his every move when performing it (a mix of music, secret crushes and social media) (ft a picture of neither of them but its the least ugly art i found of this AU cuz its old and instruments are the bane of my existence)(also kelana is so pretty i gotta flaunt her around)

in kind of the same vibe, as in we’re in a music world overexposed to social media, i also integrated em to an AU i did for fun, “boyband AU” as its called aka idol based band system cuz you kno, i got a hobby, lets apply it. Band boy Dari and bodyguard Weiwei got a thing going on, but can’t really act on it in any way, because they’d just destroy the whole band if it ever came public. Featuring annoying bandmates, catchy pop songs and people making fanaccounts of that one hot Mr.Bodyguard cause dang he hot.

(all the art of this one so ugly im sorry)

SPY AU, one of my fave brand. They spies, they get assigned on the same mission, they work real nice with each other. spies hot. fights. strategy. i just like the concept. Gays taking down the worst traffics imaginable??? I love that song.(i actually have so much on this cause s p i e s are fuckin great)

Fashion. U kNOW i have an AU for fashion. Supermodel and his private stylist, trying to maintain the line of professionalism. And failing to do so. Lets make out in unpractical designer clothes.

Have an highschool AU for a bunch of characters, injected them as “spinoff”, start chatting online being art buddies, fall in love without meeting (ft. all the iconics of internet friendship like knowing tiny details of their personnalities but not the fact that they have a sister or “waIT ur a GUY i thought u were a girl wow wild good news for my gay ass”)

n those are my faves as far as i remember, i got a fuckton of small other ones that arent fleshed out enough, or some that are more of a guilty pleasure universe, and some that are more like “projects that i can expend on as soon as i run out of daydream material” (like u kno those hospital drama shows with super innacurate medicine n shit like idk scrubs or whatever, yeh i want some of that but im keeping it for later)

[roman-writing]

no end in sight (7/7)

Fandom: World of Warcraft

Pairing: Jaina Proudmoore/Thalyssra

Rating: T

Wordcount: 4,145

Summary: Jaina goes to Suramar seeking aid after leaving the Kirin Tor. An AU exploring the events post-Theramore and Jaina’s recovery during Legion.

Read it here on AO3 or read it below the cut

“But the landscape of devastation is still a landscape. There is beauty in ruins.”

— Susan Sontag, from ‘Regarding The Pain Of Others’

--

“You will get used to it,” they told her. “Eventually.”

Jaina did not believe them. 

The enchanted wrappings were gone, but some days she still felt like an Ethereal. It was something about the ground. Sometimes, even a week after her body had been fully healed, it felt as though the earth did not exist beneath her feet. As though she walked upon a pane of glass above the distant drop of the void far below.

She no longer felt an uncomfortable rush of mana when she stood on leylines, but she still avoided stepping on them for the first week. It was an automatic reaction she could not control, flinching when she expected to be burned. Jaina could not tell if this was made better or worse by the fact that she could no longer physically see the leylines. She could sense their vague location, but it was more like the buzz of a mosquito forever flitting just out of sight. 

“Oh, that’s just how it is for us,” Valtrois said when Jaina questioned her about it. 

They were standing over a darkened teleportation pad in Oculeth’s corner of Shal’Aran. Oculeth himself was on his hands and knees, attempting to repair the teleportation pad, which had gone dark the day before without warning, the portal anchored above it winking out of existence with a splutter. Jaina and Valtrois had their hands full of various tools, but weren’t paying any attention to what he was doing.

Jaina still wore the enchanted mask. Shal’Aran was bustling with more people than ever. And now that the Nightborne had a reliable cure to mana addiction, the final fight against the Legion began in earnest. Whispers of the Dusk Lily’s insurrection grew into murmurs, grew into shouts, grew into warsongs. High ranking members of both the Horde and Alliance flooded to Suramar daily.

For all her talk to Farodin about choosing sides, Jaina still hadn’t picked hers openly.

“Us?” Jaina repeated. Wordlessly, Oculeth held out his hand, and she placed a mote extractor into it. His fingers closed around the handle, and he continued working with the instrument.

“Us. Nightborne. And, well -” Valtrois gave Jaina the once-over with her gaze. “-whatever you are now.”

“Alive,” Oculeth supplied helpfully. Though he did not look up, he did give the mote extractor a little wave for emphasis. 

“She was never dead to begin with.” Valtrois took the mote extractor and replaced it with a scoped barrel forged from leystone ore. 

“Technically -”

“No, not even technically,” Valtrois snapped waspishly.

“Technically,” Oculeth continued, undeterred. He mounted the scoped barrel into a hollow section of the transportation pad made by disassembling its metal facing. “One could make the argument that she was neither living nor dead when she was an Ethereal.”

Valtrois looked at Jaina and her voice was flat. “Don’t listen to him. You were always alive.”

All too well Jaina remembered what it had felt like. It hadn’t been that long ago, after all. The sensation of drifting through space and time like an unquantifiable entity, untethered by death or physical feeling. 

In a way, she agreed with Oculeth, but she certainly didn’t say that aloud. Mostly because she didn’t want to think about it too hard herself. 

A thought struck her, and she said, “And what about now?”

At that, both Oculeth and Valtrois peered at her with curious expressions. Oculeth had paused in his work to answer, “I would wager you’re very much alive, Lady Proudmoore.”

“No, I mean -” Jaina had to pause to collect her thoughts and place them all in neat order. “Nightborne and humans have vastly different lifespans, but you said it yourself: I’m neither here nor there, so to speak. So, what happens now?”

For a moment, neither of them responded. Then, Valtrois tapped an instrument against her opposite hand and said, “The inscriptions make it so that your physical body acts the same way the enchanted wrappings do for Ethereals. They both contain your energy, channel it, and stop your body from further deterioration.”

“Which,” Oculeth added, his words slow and thoughtful, “could also refer to aging. We can’t be sure for certain how long you will live now. As long as other Nightborne? I doubt it.”

“But longer than any human,” Valtrois said.

“Oh, without a doubt,” he agreed. “Could I please have the -? Thank you.”

Valtrois handed him a vial of what appeared to be thick, viscous demon’s blood. It burned with fel-green energy and stank of sulfur when he unstoppered the vial and poured a few drops of its contents down the hollow leyline barrel. The interactions between them were, as always, comfortable. They moved with an ease in each other’s presence, the same way they did with Thalyssra and even with Jaina. 

They were the same people, Jaina knew. They moved, acted, and sounded the same, but they looked so completely different. It had been nearly two weeks now since Jaina had been unwrapped and declared stable, and still she had a difficult time reconciling the fact that these people were the same Valtrois and Oculeth who had dragged her into one of the most genuine friendships she’d formed in -- well. Far too long. 

Not to mention Thalyssra. But that was different again.

Jaina pushed that nascent thought aside very quickly. Thalyssra was too busy for any sort of nonsense these days. Which is what that sort of dreadful, sinking hope was: nonsense. Nothing good would come of it, Jaina was sure. 

There was no getting used to this. She kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. This was an unreal existence. She peered around every corner as if expecting something to leap from the shadows. She encountered every good fortune with suspicion. Hope was dangerous. Hope was frightening. Hope had failed her in the past. Hope was not something she had ever thought to feel again. Certainly not like this.  

“Is everything alright?” Valtrois asked.

Jaina started. It took her a moment to realise that Valtrois was not speaking to her but to Oculeth.

He removed the barrel from the ground, setting it and the vial aside so that he could study the dismantled teleportation pad and scratch at the top of his head. “On this end everything is fine, but that’s precisely what worries me. It means Thalyssra was right. The teleporter for the Waning Crescent was intentionally tampered with on the other side.”

Valtrois sighed out an elegant and exaggerated, “Fuck.” 

“My thoughts exactly.”

“So, who did it?” Jaina asked. 

Oculeth began putting the teleportation pad back together, sliding the heavy metal plate back into place. “I have an inkling, but we should send one of our Horde friends to investigate inside the city itself. Valtrois, would you update Thalyssra and ask if -?”

“Already on it.” Valtrois was walking towards Oculeth’s heavy work station, and placed the tools she had been holding atop the desk. She did not bother lining them up neatly. She made an abortive movement towards the stairs spiraling beneath the arcan’dor, but stopped. Suddenly, she whirled about, her eyes narrowed, and pointed at Jaina. “Don’t go anywhere. You’re not allowed to leave without saying goodbye.”

Jaina blinked, taken aback. “I wasn’t planning on it.” 

Valtrois gave her a knowing look.

Shifting her weight between her feet, Jaina added guiltily, “Not anymore, at least.”

With a suspicious grunt, Valtrois said to Oculeth, “Fix her with a tracking beacon.”

“I said I wouldn’t!” Jaina insisted, indignant.

“That won’t be necessary,” Oculeth said, affixing magnetic bonds to the teleportation plate so that it stayed put.

“Thank you!” Jaina said. 

“Those leyline inscriptions of hers have a unique enough magical signature. She’s like a piece of the Nightwell floating around, and -- once known -- that signature could pinpoint her in a crowded street.”

“Good,” Valtrois said, turning to leave once more. 

Jaina opened her mouth to protest, but whatever she had been about to say died on her lips. She glanced down at the back of one hand. The runic markings etched into her skin gleamed, infused with their own silvery light that pulsed with every heartbeat. 

Ever since the arcane wrappings had been removed, she no longer endured headaches or itching. She could cast spells of any calibre without threat of self-collapse, a theory which she had tested only a few days ago, when she and Thalyssra had gone just south of Moonguard Stronghold for precisely that purpose. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened, and Jaina’s spellcasting had felt exactly as it had before the destruction of Theramore. Apart from the heightened sensation of mana flowing through every vein, as if the procedure now made her aware of even the barest trace of arcane energy within herself. And perhaps it did. 

Oculeth rose to his feet and dusted off his hands. Valtrois had descended the stairs in search of Thalyssra, leaving him and Jaina in relative solitude. As alone as anyone got in Shal’Aran these days. 

His usual smile was gone, but there remained a softness around his keen eyes. “You could veil your magical signature so that nobody would be any the wiser. I could teach you, but it would require you to maintain concentration for that duration of the effect.”

Jaina considered that, then shrugged. “So long as you’re the only people who know it, I don’t mind.”

That familiar smile of his returned, but it was small. “Have you asked Thalyssra about why she chose these particular designs for your tattoos?” 

“No.” She moved to set down the instruments she was holding beside those Valtrois had dumped atop the workbench. Except Jaina did it with far more care for the instruments themselves. “Does it matter?”

Oculeth answered with a noncommittal hum. “Physiologically speaking? Not a whit. Socially speaking? In vast amounts.” 

He moved to stand beside her, and she allowed him to gently take her hand. He lifted it between them. He brushed his thumb against the tattoo on the back of her hand, nudging the cloth of her sleeve up her arm to reveal where the inscriptions wove along her wrist. His own markings stood out against his skin, the contrast stark in comparison to Jaina’s paler complexion. 

“To my people, these are signs. Signifiers.” Oculeth dropped her hand. “You’ve been branded. Wouldn’t you like to know what it means?”

Jaina’s fingers curled into a fist. She had to force her hand to unclench. “I’ll be sure to ask next time.”

--

That was only somewhat of a lie. Jaina was too afraid to broach the topic. In the rare occasions where she screwed her courage to the sticking place, Thalyssra always appeared so busy. Jaina would approach during the day to find Thalyssra engaged in deep conversation with Champions of the Horde and Alliance. During the evening, Jaina stood in the doorway to Thalyssra’s private study two floors beneath the bustle of Shal’Aran, and Thalyssra would be hunched over her desk, so entrenched in her work that she would not notice Jaina’s presence hovering behind her. Once, Jaina found Thalyssra sleeping at her desk, head pillowed by an open book. She still had a quill held loosely between her fingers. 

Jaina let her be. Thalyssra did not need any interruption to her already hectic life, what with all the rebel-rousing and insurgency. 

It was a flimsy excuse, even by her standards. But Jaina clung to it nonetheless. 

That being said, it was a difficult excuse to cling to when Thalyssra approached her instead.

“I’ve been saving this for a special occasion.” Thalyssra held a bottle of arcwine in her hands. It was one of the same bottles that Jaina had brought back from the Twilight Vineyards. That felt like so long ago. “Will you join me?”

Jaina hesitated. She was currently helping Valtrois pass out fruit of the arcan’dor to new arrivals at Shal’Aran. Before she could say anything however, Valtrois took the basket of fruit from her hands and said, “Go. I can do this by myself.”

Jaina went. 

“If you don’t want to we can -” Thalyssra started to say, but Jaina shook her head with a smile.

“No, no. A glass of wine sounds lovely.”

Jaina started towards the stairs, assuming they would be heading down to Thalyssra’s private study, only for a hand on her arm to stop her.

Thalyssra tilted her head. “This way. I thought we might go outside for a change. It’s a warm evening.”

They walked towards the teleportation pads in a corner of Shal’Aran. Oculeth was conspicuously absent, his tools lying about. The portal to the Waning Crescent had been restored, but another portal had been sectioned off with a length of silk rope. 

Thalyssra ducked beneath the rope barrier. “I asked Oculeth to restrict traffic through this one temporarily.”

And without further explanation, she stepped through the portal. Jaina lingered for a moment. Steeling herself, she followed. 

The ruins of Elune’eth overlooked the valley of Meredil. In the distance, the spires of Suramar raked the sky, the Nightwell’s tower foremost among them. The shield surrounding Suramar shimmered in the early evening light like a soap bubble, transparent yet full of colour. 

It was indeed a lovely, warm evening. Spring had draped itself across Suramar. New green shoots broke the loam, and the trees were flowering, purple and white. Thalyssra crossed over to a fallen pillar stretched along the ground and strewn with violet-veined ivy. 

Jaina blinked. Cushions, and wineglasses, and a plank of light food had already been artfully arranged. Either Thalyssra did not notice her hesitation, or chose not to react, for she sat facing the city view, and unstoppered the wine. 

“I don’t know if you realised,” Thalyssra said without turning around. “But you stole a fine vintage for us that day. This has been aged for no less than four centuries.”

They were alone. Jaina cast a quick glance around before removing her mask. Then she moved to sit beside Thalyssra, folding her legs, cross-legged, upon the cushions. She picked up a glass and held it out for Thalyssra to pour the wine. The mask she left on the ground, forgotten. “So, what’s the occasion?”  

“The beginning of the end.” Thalyssra poured one glass, and then the other. She gave the bottle a little twist as she stopped pouring, so as not to spill a single drop. She set the bottle aside. “I’ve just received news that good friend and ally has just been rescued from the Terrace of Order. As we speak, the sigil of the rebellion will be flying over his empty cage.”

Despite the apparent good news, Thalyssra lifted her glass towards Jaina in a mocking salute, before taking a large drink. 

Jaina turned her own glass slowly in her hands, rotating it by the delicate stem. “And yet you sound less than thrilled?”

Thalyssra sighed. She stared into the tide-dark wine of her glass. “I am happy, of course. Finally, we have sparked the rebellion into a wildfire. With it however comes a whole host of other worries.”

“Such as?” Jaina sipped at her wine. There was a heady slope of warmth upon the tongue, more like a mulled wine absent the bite of hard winter spices. 

Reaching into a pocket -- Light only knew where she kept pockets on an outfit like that -- Thalyssra pulled out a folded letter. “I have a meeting with this archmage of yours.” Thalyssra tapped the closed letter against the bowl of her glass. “What was his name again?”

“Khadgar?” 

“Yes. That’s the one.”

Jaina frowned and lifted the glass to her lips for another sip. “How could you not remember his name? I thought you two knew each other.”

The tilt of Thalyssra’s head was inquisitive. “I have never met the man.”

“But -” Slowly Jaina lowered the wine. “That can’t be right. He’s the one who arranged my coming here in the first place. And he said he’d asked you about my condition and whereabouts.”

With a vague wave of her wine glass, Thalyssra said, “I received exactly two letters from the Archmage of the Kirin Tor.” She paused, glancing down at the letter in her hand, then added, “Well, three, actually. If you count the latest correspondence from the warfront.”

“You really just took in a known war criminal without question?”

“Look around,” Thalyssra gestured back towards Shal’Aran, “I’ve surrounded myself with known war criminals. It just depends on who you ask.” 

Jaina laughed, soft and incredulous, and shook her head. “I spent so much of my time here thinking that you were only doing this to curry favour with the Kirin Tor and -- I don’t know -- earn some of their resources for your own means.”

“The same way you thought I was playing both the Horde and the Alliance against one another for my own means?”

“Well, weren’t you?”

Thalyssra’s answering smile glinted with a sharp flash of teeth. “Oh, yes. But that does not mean we cannot hold two opposing ideas in our minds simultaneously. Cunning does not preclude compassion.” 

Being on the receiving end of that look, Jaina could not stop the flush that heated her cheeks. Perhaps it was the wine. She took another drink. As she did so, Thalyssra gazed out towards the city. Despite her smile earlier, she held her jaw taut. 

“You’re worried,” Jaina realised aloud. 

Thalyssra did not answer immediately. She stared out across the night-washed land, her expression clearly visible even beneath the shadow cast by her hood. She worried the letter with her fingers, bright and nimble and rapping the folded parchment against her knee again and again. 

“I have been many things in life. A mage and a teacher before the Sundering. A coward along with the rest of Suramar during the War of the Ancients. A revolutionary only when no other option was available to me. And none of these things help me be a better diplomat.” Thalyssra snorted, a derisive sound. “Most days I feel like a fraud calling myself a leader. What will Tyrande say? My kin of old remember me as one of the Highborne they fought against so bitterly for so long. Worse, they’ll think of my people as relics, ruins of a time when we were great and noble and just, but no longer. How can I possibly convince them Suramar is worth saving?”

Reaching out, Jaina placed her hand over Thalyssra’s to stop her from fidgeting with the letter. Thalyssra’s nervous movements stilled, and Jaina said, "You convinced me that I was worth saving."

Thalyssra snorted softly. "A task for the legends."

"The stuff of heroes.” Jaina looked down at where she stroked the back of Thalyssra’s hand with her thumb. It was easier than meeting her eyes. Even so, when Jaina spoke she could hardly believe the words that came from her mouth. “Even if I might be able to convince Tyrande to drop a ten thousand year old grudge,” she said, "the Kirin Tor have already proven they aren't willing to listen to me. The Alliance are as dedicated to stopping the Legion as any. If all you need to secure their support is to let them think they will be driving away the Legion and destroying the Nightwell in the process, then -”

Jaina let her voice trail off suggestively. Hesitantly, she glanced up to find that Thalyssra was studying her with a veiled expression. “Lady Jaina Proudmoore, are you encouraging me to use the Alliance with the full intention of joining the Horde?”

“I suppose I am.” Jaina grimaced as though a bad taste lingered on the back of her tongue. She tapped her thumb against Thalyssra’s knuckles in faux admonishment before removing her hand. “Don’t make me say it again, though.”

Thalyssra laughed, and the sound was warm, as warm as her gaze. “You’ve come a long way since first we met.”

“Thanks to you. And Oculeth and Valtrois, I suppose,” Jaina added. “Don’t tell them I said that though.”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

“I know.”

Thalyssra tossed the letter aside to refill her own glass, and held up the bottle towards Jaina in a silent question. Jaina held her glass out to be refilled. For a while all they did was drink in peace and comfortable talk, broken only by moments of easy silence. The wooden plank piled with food diminished, and the blunt little knife perched atop it gathered crumbs. 

Night began to sweep towards the dimmed horizon, and far-flung stars dotted the sky. Like this, Thalyssra seemed more in her element than ever, cast all in twilight and dusky hues. It was all too easy to remember her as the withered mimicry of herself from not so long ago. 

Jaina caught herself staring, and looked abruptly away. She buried her nose in her glass. Beside her, Thalyssra leaned forward to pluck one of the last dark grapes from its vine upon the platter, and eat it. The tattoos upon her arms gleamed in the early evening light. 

Mouth dry despite the drink, Jaina said, “Oculeth told me that I should ask you about my tattoos. Do you know what he meant?”

Thalyssra paused, but it was so small a thing that Jaina wouldn’t have noticed if she had not been watching for a reaction. She seemed to mull over her answer. “I told you once that Nightborne have natural markings that are similar across families. That is true. They are hereditary, but unique. They are demarcations of familial resemblance, like height or hair colour.” She reached out to ghost her fingertips across the markings that glowed on Jaina’s cheek. “These are my family’s markings.”

Jaina’s breath caught in her chest as Thalyssra pulled her hand away. “So, every Nightborne who looks at me will think we’re related somehow?”

“In a sense. From what I understand about humans, Nightborne kinship groups are very different. You might call someone a cousin, but we have specific terminology for everyone’s distinct relation to one another. To call Valtrois my cousin, for instance, would be technically correct, but inadequately descriptive.”

“And what would you call her?”

“There is no exact translation. She is my third cousin’s wife’s sister’s niece on her father’s side but my mother’s side.”

Jaina stared at her. “I swear you just said words right then, but Light knows what they meant.”

That earned a laugh. “It means: you have nothing to worry about. The markings don’t have to mean anything, unless you want them to. After all, what other markings was I supposed to give you? I was always under the impression you were going to leave Suramar after your procedures were finished. How many Nightborne would you ever encounter elsewhere that would make this matter?”

The thought of leaving made Jaina’s stomach clench. When she spoke her voice sounded faint even to her own ears. “I could - I could stay. I could help with your Alliance diplomacy.”

"It's kind of you to offer, but that's not why I would want you to stay."

Jaina looked away. She felt a gentle touch at her chin, turning her back to face Thalyssra. Her head was buzzing with warmth and energy, like the thrum of mana beneath her skin. 

“This was a bad idea,” Jaina murmured. “I did not think it would affect me this much.”

“The wine?”

“No,” Jaina breathed. “No, not that.”

Thalyssra had placed her own glass aside. One of her hands still lingered upon Jaina’s chin, and her thumb traced a line just beneath Jaina’s lower lip. “I would have you stay of your own accord. Not because you have nowhere else to go. Not because this is the only path available to you.”

Before she could think about what she was doing, Jaina allowed her own hand to drift up and grasp Thalyssra’s wrist. She did not pull Thalyssra’s hand away, but instead held it in place, maintaining that touch. “I want to. Even for a little while. One day I will have to leave, but until then -”

“You are always welcome here. For as long as you would like.” Thalyssra moved her hand to curl her fingers at Jaina’s jawline, the pad of her thumb brushing the corner of Jaina’s mouth until Jaina almost forgot how to breath. 

“I want them to mean something. The markings,” Jaina admitted in a rush. “I don’t know what exactly that entails, but I want it.”

Thalyssra smile. Her eyes were twilit, and her words were soft. “They can mean whatever you like.”

“Thalyssra, if you don’t kiss me already, I swear I -”

She did. And for the first time in a long time, sitting amongst the ruins of an ancient civilisation, this was a place that felt like home.

[rexinferorum]

Private Detective AU / jackson

                                        (  loosely  based  on  prodigal son  )                                                                                                          ft. @sitacross

         he’s  on  the  ground,  a  shotgun  in  his  face.    the  murderer  has  the  heads  of  his  victims  in  jars,  they  stare  back  at  him  like  the  heads  of  his  sister’s  barbie  dolls  used  to  whenever  he  wrenched  them  free.  it  had  been  a  scientific  experiment,  he’d  said  to  their  mother  when  she,  in  horror,  asked  him  why;  he  wanted  to  see  if  they’d  go  back  on  after.   he’d  always  enjoyed  hypothesis  and  experimentation,  in  seeing  why  and  how  things  reacted  the  way  they  did.   he  applied  those  same  curiosities  to  people,  though  he’d  become  a  profiler  rather  than  a  serial  killer  like  the  man  before  him.   two  different  paths,  same  curiosities.    that  curiosity  however  might  get  him  killed  today.     wait  for  back-up,  his  superior  had  said  on  the  radio  when  he  arrived  at  the  suspect’s  home,  don’t  go  in  there  alone,  avery.     he  hadn’t  listened  of  course.   they  only  had  once  chance  to  catch  the  man  off  guard  and  if  he  waited  ?   there  was  a  chance  he  could  bolt  –  ESCAPE  before  they  could  bring  him  to  justice.    he’s  just  about  talked  the  man  into  putting  his  gun  down,  into  going  quietly,  when  the  local  authorities  show  up  and  ruin  everything.  he  ends  up  splattered  in  blood,  the  murderer  DEAD.   there’ll  be  no  justice  served  today.   he  gets  to  his  feet,  stumbles  out  of  the  crime  scene,  and  punches  the  sheriff  before  leaving.

             he’s  summarily  dismissed  from  the  bureau.    conduct  unbecoming.   when  they  hand  him  his  pink  slip,  it’s  with  a  recommendation:   get  some  help.    jokes  on  them,  he  doesn’t  think  there’s  enough  help  in  the  world  to  get  his  head  on  straight.  he  knows  this,  accepts  it  even. 

     he  gets  the  call  a  few  days  later.   the  NYPD  need  help  tracking  down  their  latest  serial  killer.  “  i  don’t  know  if  i’m  your  guy.  ”   he  relays to  the  man  on  the  phone  —  a  man  who  was  there  for  him  over  the  years,  a  man  he  considered  family.    “  you  should  probably  know  i  was  fired  from  the  FBI  this  week.  ”   —  “  perfect,  that  means  you’re  available  to  consult.  ”    he  is,  so  he  goes.   

   he  steps  under  the  crime  scene  tape  when  he  arrives,  taking  a  loud  bite  from  his  apple.  it  crunches,  forces  the  other  detectives  to  turn  and  stare  at  him.  “  sorry.  ”    he  apologizes,  though  he  doesn’t  mean  it.   “  late  start.  ”    he  tosses  it  in  the  trash,  listens  to  the  captain  run  down  the  details  of  the  crime.    it’s  a  grisly  murder;   the  woman  was  strangled  with  a  piano  wire,  then  cut  into  pieces  which  were  arranged  into  a  very  specific  pattern.   it’s  a  pattern  he’s  seen  before  —  why  baird  silvermist  has  called  him  in  to  consult  on  this  case.    “  why  is  he  here  ?  ”   the  detective  —  claudia,  frowns  with  her  hands  on  her  hips.   “  we  can’t  just  have  a  civilian  traipsing  around  a  crime  scene,  baird.  ”      jacks  smiles;  bittersweet,  but  a  smile  nonetheless.   “  hi,  i’m  the  civilian.  ”   he  waves  a  hand  in  front  of  her  face.  he’s  never  been  one  to  avoid  an  awkward  interaction.   “  i  know  i  introduced  myself  as  jacks  avery  but  that’s  not  my  given  name.  ”     he  sighs,  takes  another  look  at  the  carnage  around  them.   “  it’s  jackson  elsey.   my  brother  is  vuras  elsey  …  the  pollock  killer.  ”       he  grimaces.   “  what  we  have  here  is  a  CLEAR  copycat.  ”

* * *

         it  isn’t  something  he  advertises  —  that  his  brother’s  a  serial  killer.   half-brother,  if  you  want  to  get  technical.  vuras  was  arrested  when  he  was  11  and  he’d  changed  his  name  as  an  adult  to  create  some  distance  between  the  horrors  of  his  past  and  his  future.   as  it  turns  out,  jacks  avery  wouldn’t  be  immune  to  the  pollock  killer’s  influence  either.    pollock,  because  he  spread  body  parts  out  in  such  a  way  it  had  once  been  described  as  art  of  the  most  macabre  threshold.   

      his  profile  is  coming  together  nicely.  the  copycat  is  someone  roughly  his  brother’s  age  or  older,  who  grew  up  hearing  or  reading  about  the  pollock  killer’s  reign  of  terror  on  the  news.   with  over  42  confirmed  kills,  vuras  elsey  is  known  as  one  of  the  most  notorious  serial  killers  in  modern  times.   his  arrest  was  made  even  more  shocking  given  he’d  been  a  registered  clinical  therapist.  someone  who  was  supposed  to  help  people,  who  was  supposed  to  be  good,  had  simply  used  his  position  to  get  insight  into  human  behaviors  that  he  couldn’t  quite  replicate  on  his  own.   as  a  psychopath,  the  only  emotions  he  ever  felt  were  ghosts  —   imprints  —  impressioned  from  those  around  him.   any  one  of  his  patients  could  be  the  culprit  and  with  bodies  piling  up,  jacks  knew  he  was  running  out  of  options.   if  he  could  do  something  to  get  more  insight,  to  get  a  lead,  and  he  did  nothing  ?    well  he  was  no  better  than  his  brother.   that  blood  would  be  on  his  hands.  

     so  it’s  with  shaking  hands  that  he  signs  himself  in  at  the  psychiatric  hospital,  pins  a  guest  badge  to  his  chest  and  follows  the  guard  to  v’s  cell.   it’s  a  maximum  security  hospital,  his  brother  only  permitted to  remain  there  so  long  as  he  refrains  from  starting  any  trouble.   his  lawyers  were  sharks  –  they’d  defended  him  to  the  letter,  narrowly  avoiding  the  death  penalty  in  favor  of  a  lifetime  stay  at  asphyxia  medical  center.    10  years  down  the  line  and  the  man  has  his  own  office;    connects  with  clients  via  skype,  or  a  closed  circuit  chat  system.   he  even  has  satellite  tv,  for  crying  out  loud.   (    v   has  friends  and  connections  in  high  places.  even  being  incarcerated  hasn’t  slowed  him  down  any.     the  guard  explains  all  this  on  their  walk.  )      it’s  been  7  years  since  jakson  last  visited.   7  years  since  he  last  looked  his  brother  in  the  eye. 

        he  remembers  that  gleam.    he  remembers  his  brother  looking  him  dead  in  the  eye,  smiling,  and  saying  words  that  haunt  him.   you  and  i,  we’re  the  same.  you’ll  see.  you  think  solving  murders,  helping  people,  will  atone  for  my  sins  but  what  about  yours?  i  see  your  darkness  and  it  matches  mine.   we’re  the  same.     

        they  reach  the  door  as  its  buzzed  open.  the  guard  steps  back,  motions  for  jacks  to  go  inside.   he  does,  taking  a  moment  to  collect  himself  before  walking  in.  it’s  …  not  what  he  expected.   there’s  a  bookshelf  against  the  wall  filled  with  reading  material,  a  filing  cabinet  beside  it  presumably  holding  his  patient  records.   the  man  himself  is  sitting  in  an  office  chair,  he  spins  around  to  face  him.   he’s  older  now  —   has  a  beard,  his  hair  longer  than  he  remembers  and  starting  to  grey.   he’s  in  his  40s  now,  but  his  face  hasn’t  aged  a  day.   he  still  looks  the  same  as  he  did  the  day  they’d  put  a  gun  to  his  head  and  forced  him  to  his  knees,  jacks  the  one  who’d  turned  him  in.   he’s  restrained  to  the  chair;   a  feat  jacks  finds  surprising.   it’s  easier  to  stare  at  the  restraints  than  the  man,  so  he  does.

         “  well,  well,  well.   i  wondered  when  i’d  see  you  again.  ”    his  brother  speaks  and  jacks  feels  shivers  running  down  his  spine.   he  doesn’t  acknowledge  the  comment,  instead  directing  a  nod  towards  the  restraints.   “  that’s  new.  ”       v  laughs.    “  just  a  precaution.   they’re  worried  we  might  have  a  repeat  of  what  happened  last  time.  ”    jacks  blinks,  confused.    v,  in  turn,  looks  pleased.   “  i  suppose  you  wouldn’t  remember.  you  told  me  you  wouldn’t  be  coming  back,  that  you  were  going  to  college  and  starting  a  ‘  new  life  ’  and  wouldn’t  be  coming  back.  ”   his  lips  turned  down.   “  so  i  asked  you  for  a  HUG  —   a  going  away  present,   and  you,  little  brother,  were  dumb  enough  to  believe  it.  ”    he  smiles,  all  teeth.   “  maybe  memory  loss  is  a  side-effect  of  hypoxia.  hmm.  ”     he  pulls  at  the  restraints  violently,  laughing  wildly  when  jacks  flinches  on  instinct.   shit.  he  was  supposed  to  have  the  upper  hand  here.   

      “  i  didn’t  come  here  to  talk  about  the  past.  ”   in  fact,  he’d  like  to  pretend  it  never  existed  to  begin  with.   “  i  came  here  to  talk  about  my  case.   mr.  elsey,  on  behalf  of  the  NYPD,  i’m  here  to  —  ”      v’s  eyes  light  up.    “  oh,  i  know  all  about  your  case,  jackson.   i  saw  it  on  the  news.   the  pollock  copycat   …  not  the  most  original  name,  but  then  again  our  sister  was  always  more  beauty  than  brains.  ”      jack’s  stomach  lurches.   their  sister  had  been  6  when  v  was  arrested,  he’d  hoped  that  v  would  have  failed  to  recognize  her  now  as  an  adult.   maybe  it  shouldn’t  surprise  him  that  he  does.   for  someone  so  disconnected,  he  sure  knows  enough  about  what’s  been  going  on.    “  you  think  i  might  know  something  about  your  killer.   or  maybe  you  think  i  did  it.   i’m  good  but  even  i  have  my  limits.  ”   he  smirks.  “  i’m  a  little  TIED  UP.  ”    the  restraints  get  another  pull.      “  hate  to  disappoint,  but  this  one’s  not  on  me.  ”

         —    “  but  you  know  who  it  is.  ”     this  isn’t  a  question.   he  observes  the  way  v’s  shoulders  tense,  how  his  eyes  flit  to  the  filing  case  every  so  often.   these  are  tells  that  give  him  away,  lead  him  to  believe  that  v  knows  more  than  he’s  saying.   “   we’re  working  on  a  profile.   the  killer  is  male,  probably  struggles  with  mental  illness,  and  is  looking  for  purpose  with  these  kills.  they  aren’t  personal  …  none  of  the  victims  have  anything  in  common,  minus  one  thing;   the  clue  that  brought  him  here  in  the  first  place.   “  each  were  murdered  in  the  exact  style  you  adopted.  ”   he  moves  to  the  filing  case,  watches  v’s  eyes  follow  him.   “  which  means  they’ve  studied  you,  mr.  elsey.   very  closely.  ”   —  “  mr.  elsey.  ”    v  looks  amused.   “  let’s  not  play  coy,  jackson.    you  can  call  me  v.    we  are  family.  ”      jacks  doesn’t  rise  to  the  dig,  continues.   “  …  which  leads  us  to  believe  that  the  killer  could  have  been  a  patient  of  yours.  ”    finally  he  looks  back  at  v,  waits  patiently  for  the  man’s  reaction.   he  simply  shrugs,  leaning  back  in   his  chair.  it’s  evident  he  won’t  be  getting  any  information  from  him  and  without  a  warrant,  he  can’t  search  the  files  himself.    “  fine.  that’ll  be  all,  mr.  elsey.  ”   he  turns  to  go;    it’s  a  calculated  risk,  leaving,  but  if  he  knows  his  brother  he  knows  that  fear  of  never  seeing  him  again  —  never  getting  the  opportunity  to  mess  with  him  —  will  be  enough  to  stop  him.    “  WAIT.  ”       he’s  right.   

               v  gives  him  the  information  he’s  looking  for.   the  information  leads  to  a  half  brother,  one  that  jacks  wasn’t  even  aware  had  existed.    of  course  it’s  a  family  member;   there  isn’t  a  sane  one  of  them  in  the  bunch.    they  use  the  information  in  the  file  to  track  down  the  brother.   he  claims  he’s  innocent,  claims  he  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  murders,  but  they  find  another  victim  in  his  attic  and  he  goes  down  for  them  all.   he’s  found  guilty,  sentenced  to  LIFE.     it’s  only  when  the  murders  resume  again  six  months  later  does  he  realize  that  v  played  him.   he  led  him  to  the  wrong  culprit  and  hid  the  real  murderer  from  him.    it  takes  them  nearly  a  year  to  track  down  the  true  murderer  —   v’s  boyfriend,  aster  silvermist  …  the  NYPD  captain’s  son.       

[sonicrainicorn]

Brotherly Love

Part of the Berry Done AU!

Words: 2153 Desc.: Logan and Thomas don’t always see eye-to-eye. Luckily, Roman and Virgil understand that better than anyone. TW: Argument, yelling

I noticed there actually wasn’t a lot of stories with the twins despite this AU also being about them. So I decided to change that :)

///

Roman and Virgil were in their room. Virgil on his bed, Roman on the ground with a school project laid out in front of him. Technically, Virgil should have been doing it too, but it wasn’t due for a few days. Besides, he had a knack for getting Daddy to do most of the work. Right now he put all his attention on the book in his hands. He hated reading. The words were hard to follow and sometimes they didn’t make any sense. He much preferred when someone else read to him -- like Daddy. The stories were nicer that way. But the teacher wouldn’t like that someone else had been reading to him. He needed to read on his own.

Eventually, the letters started swimming around on the page so he decided to stop. He fell to the side so that his head hung upside down off the bed. Roman didn’t pay any mind to the sudden presence of his brother’s face. Their actions had long since become predictable to each other.

“Didya finish yet?” Virgil asked.

“Um…” Roman ran a glue stick over one area repeatedly then slapped down a piece of paper. “Yes.” He held up his masterpiece to see it in its full glory. “I’m so good at this.”

Virgil rolled his eyes -- a trait he ended up learning from his daddy, much to his dad’s dismay. Roman did it too, but he never did it as much as Virgil. “You say that about everything you do.”

“And it’s always true.” Roman grinned at Virgil’s frown. “Dad says that I can be good at anything I want.”

“Well, Daddy says that you’re a brat.”

“Daddy calls everyone a brat.”

Yeah, that was true. It was more an affectionate nickname for the twins rather than an insult. He even called Dad a brat a few times.

“Fine. But I’ll win next time.” Virgil stuck out his tongue before returning back to the bed. They often made their arguments into games. Anything they disagreed on turned into who could convince the other or get him to drop the subject first. Whoever won the round would get a sense of accomplishment and a point. As of right now, they were evenly matched with Virgil holding onto the lead by half a point.

The room went back to its comfortable silence.

The one thing that could be heard was their daddy’s voice from the living room. He had been talking to Uncle Thomas on the phone for a bit. Background chatter that the twins were quick to ignore. They were talking over grown-up things. Yet the once peaceful conversation sprung into something bigger. Daddy’s voice rose a bit, and with every pause, he seemed to sound angrier.

Roman and Virgil shared a confused look. Daddy never got mad at Uncle Thomas. They were like best friends. Like how Roman and Virgil are. Sometimes Daddy would scold Uncle Thomas for something, but he never got mad.

“I am not a child, Thomas,” Daddy snapped. His tone was harsher than the twins had ever heard it before. He never sounded like that. “You can’t keep acting like I’m sixteen and the world is out to get me -- I know how to handle myself.”

They didn’t know what that could mean. 

“You're the one being unreasonable here. You need to let me handle my life my own way… Shut up, I'm fine. I won't combust just because I'm yelling at you. I'm not as fragile as you continue to think I am.” Despite this, his voice shook. Like he couldn't handle speaking at a louder volume than normal. “You know what? Fine. If you’re not going to listen to me, then I’m done.”

Silence.

The twins gave each other tentative looks. They weren’t sure what to make of that whole interaction. Daddy never got that angry. He had a reserved, almost fragile anger that often went away as soon as it came. Rarely did he ever yell. They could tell that something serious had taken place.

“D’you think we should go look?” Roman asked, voice low as if speaking any volume above a whisper would shatter something.

Virgil shrugged his shoulders. He stared out their door in worry. “Dad won’t be home for a while… so maybe?” He turned his attention to Roman, who had the same worry across his features. “That’s something Dad would do, right?”

“I think so.” He picked himself off the floor. “He’d want us to make sure that Daddy’s okay.”

Virgil nodded in agreement and slipped off the bed.

Together, they walked out the door to brave the unknown. The living room was awfully quiet despite their daddy sitting in it. He leaned forward with his hand covering his eyes. He didn’t even notice that they walked in. He always noticed. It made him impossible to sneak up on.

“Daddy?” Roman called out tentatively.

This caused him to stiffen. He lowered his hand, allowing the twins to see that his glasses weren’t there. They always saw him with glasses. Not only that but… they had never seen him cry before. Seeing it made them want to start crying, too. What could have caused their daddy to cry?

“I’m sorry,” he hastily wiped his tears, “did I end up disturbing you, boys? I should have done better to keep my voice down.”

Virgil shook his head.

“Are you okay?” Roman asked.

“Oh, yes, I’m fine.” He pressed his palms to his eyes. “Just finished having an adult conversation with your uncle. Nothing to worry about.”

Despite this, they both felt very worried. They had never seen him this way before. He was always the calm one. No matter how many movies had sad parts in them, he never cried. Not like how Dad would. So then something sadder than a movie must have happened.

“You're not very good at lying,” Virgil mumbled.

Daddy laughed a bit, but it didn't sound like a normal one. “I suppose I'm not.” He lowered his hands to look at the two boys. The rims of his eyes were already red. It still looked like he would start crying at any second. “But this isn't anything that you two should be worried about, I promise.”

“It still feels like you’re lying,” Roman matched Virgil’s tone.

“Do you think you should be worried about it?”

They both shrugged. “You just seem upset,” Roman spoke for them. “And Dad would want to make sure you’re okay.”

A small smile tugged at his lips. “I think you’re right.”

The two decided to join him on the couch. One on each side. “So what made you sad?” Roman continued. Dad always knew how to do this kind of stuff. He was good at it.

“Your uncle and I just had a bit of… a disagreement.” He frowned. “We think a little differently about the same things, and sometimes that makes us mad at each other.”

“So you’re sad that you got mad?”

“It’s a little bit like that, yes.”

That seemed kinda silly, but Roman realized he could feel like that too. If he ever said something that wasn’t very nice to Virgil, he immediately wanted to take it back. Because he didn’t mean it. Then they’d both be upset over what he said. Feelings were weird. “Maybe he’s sad, too.”

“I don’t think Daddy wants to talk about it anymore,” Virgil mumbled.

Roman peeked over to see Virgil hugging Daddy’s arm. Maybe he should listen. Virgil was smart about these things. “Okay, um,” Roman kicked his feet to help him think, “we should do something else, then. Like, um…” He looked around the room.

“Play a game?”

He beamed. “Yeah!”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Daddy used his available hand to wipe away his remaining tears. “You two are free to play what you want, you don’t need to include me.”

Virgil hugged his arm tighter. “No, we gotta,” Roman insisted. “We can find something that you wanna play too. O-or we can do something else like watch a movie, or -- hey! I got it.” He slipped off the couch. “Wait right here, I gotta find it first.” He dashed off to the room.

Virgil's first instinct was to follow after him, but he managed to stay put. He had to make sure Daddy didn't go anywhere or that he didn't get sadder. Sometimes Virgil got sadder if someone wasn't there for him. And if there was anything Virgil didn't want to do, it was make his daddy sadder than he already was. “Everything turns out fine,” he whispered. Dad always said nice things like that, and sometimes they helped. Maybe it would help Daddy. “It’s always fine in the end. That’s how brothers work.”

What he didn’t see was his daddy’s eyes welling up with more tears.

“Okay, I’m back.” Roman ran in with his arms full. He dumped everything on the coffee table and smiled up at his audience. There were two puzzle boxes and an old I Spy book. “Which one do you wanna do first?”

Daddy smiled a bit. “I think I’ll leave that decision up to you two.”

The twins unanimously decided to do the space puzzle first. They knew how much their daddy liked space and figured that would be the best place to start. They all moved to the floor to put it together.

As they worked on it, Roman and Virgil did their best to not get mad at each other. They had different styles of puzzle-completing-tactics that clashed, but they held off on any arguments. They were trying to help their daddy feel better, not make him worse. If they argued then he would get upset again. And then they’d disappoint their dad for not being able to help. So they worked together. By the time it was completed, they figured out how to combine each of their tactics.

The next one went even better.

After both puzzles were completed, they moved back to the couch for I Spy. Daddy held the book so all three of them could search for the items. He was very quick at finding most of them, but sometimes he needed one to be pointed out to him. They only got through a few pages before a soft knock came from the front door.

Roman and Virgil looked at it in confusion. Daddy frowned. He closed the book and set it on the coffee table, trading it off for his glasses. The twins remained seated as he opened it. Like he knew who was on the other side already.

There were a few beats of silence before the distinct voice of Uncle Thomas said, “Can I come in?”

So Daddy let him in.

He gave a brief smile to the twins before turning back to their daddy. He looked sad, too. Maybe Roman was right. “Logan, about earlier --”

Daddy sighed. “Thomas --”

“You were right.”

That didn’t appear to be the words he was expecting. “What?”

“You were right.” Uncle Thomas shrugged. “I, I need to stop thinking of you as a kid. You’re your own man now, with your own life, and your own family,” his eyes flicked over to the twins, “I can’t keep acting like you need me at your side all the time.”

Daddy just blinked. “That’s, uh…” He cleared his throat. “I suppose I was a bit, uh, harsh in how I worded things.”

“Well, it got me to actually think about how I treat you, so I’d say mission accomplished.” He gave a faint smile which quickly slipped off his face. “It’s just -- it’s hard to see you as anything other than that little boy who always needed my help. You’re my baby brother, Logan. I helped raise you -- I was literally your legal guardian for a while. I just, I care about you. I always have.”

“I know. I never said you had to stop.” He paused to think of his next words. “But perhaps tone it down? A little bit.”

A puff of laughter escaped Uncle Thomas. “Yeah, I can be a tad overprotective, can’t I? I promise I’ll try to control that from now on.”

“Maybe that’s something we can work on together. Set boundaries that we’re both comfortable with so it won’t be as hard or awkward for either of us.”

Uncle Thomas grinned. “And that is why I have the smartest brother in the whole world.”

Daddy rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” But he failed to hide his smile.

“Hugs!” Roman leaped off the couch and ran over to the other two. He pushed them into prime hugging position, but his arms were too short to completely wrap around both of them.

Virgil got there in his own pace. He leaned into the group without making any actual effort to move his arms. “I told you everything turns out fine,” he murmured.

And he was right.

[kamino-ink]

Trust | Bang Chan

genre ⌁ haunting!au, horror, supernatural, angst, fluff, enemies-to-lovers-ish

summary ⌁ you are a regular ole’ demonologist, just living your best life attending the occasional possession or exorcism - until a novice exorcist with a giant ego accidently gets you into harm’s way.

word count ⌁ 2.8k

warning ⌁ kinda violent tbh, mentions of death n blood and religion

Check out my masterlist!

A/N - I hate this a lot I swear the other parts will be better :/

the case of the southend werewolf was one that would haunt you forever, for years to come until the day you passed

while the famous husband and wife duo, ed and lorraine warren, had solved the case many decades ago, one oddly similar instance popped up in news reports and videos over time

you’d been doing some personal research since the very first story came up on your recommended page, diligently applying your demonology knowledge to the strange case

yes - demonology

you weren’t exactly catholic, or... religious in general, for the most part; you liked to call yourself agnostic for lack of a better term

you didn’t quite believe in the idea of gods and all that jazz, but you did however delve deeper into the possible existence of demons or, rather, negative energy that fed off the masses

moving on

you decided that you really wanted to go to the area in England where the supposed possession was taking place, but on account of their authority figures (and the church) you required a professional to go with you

enter bang chan, novice exorcist in training

in the midst of your heavy digging for an exorcist to accompany you on the trip, you stumbled upon a verified site from the Vatican itself, which cited experienced or in training students all over the world

bang chan happened to be the first one who had a decent record, plus he was technically still training so if he came on the trip, his supervisor would have to go as well - meaning double the protection

after a week of arranging flights and meetings, you found yourself landing in an airport located in Essex, England

there you met up with chan and his supervisor, a decorated exorcist by the name of park jinyoung

together the three of you spoke about the case, from the ride to the hotel all the way into unpacking for the stay

while you and jinyoung had been in a heated discussion over the suspected possession, chan spent that time rolling his eyes whenever you presented your research or an opinion - he even had the audacity to glare at you as you asked questions about their church and services

“you shouldn’t even be here,” the Australian man finally spoke up, “you’re not a child of god, so why do you even care about our church or what we’ve devoted our lives to?”

jinyoung hisses and smacks the younger man on the back of his head, offering you a reprimanded look of apology

“chan, just because you’re technically a licensed student doesn't mean that you can ridicule others who have different beliefs than we do. our first lesson is to-”

“not judge others, for judgement is a sin.” the blonde finishes with a grunt, though he sends you another harsh glare at the same time

“my beliefs are my own, chan. while I don’t believe in your god, I do believe in the mere existence of negative entities in our world.” you reply shortly

he scoffs, abruptly standing from his chair at the dining table, “you’re completely unbelievable, woman. just - stay out of our way during our investigation.”

and with that, he left, storming off into his bedroom

jinyoung apologizes for his pupil’s behavior, though he doesn’t bring up the topic of your beliefs for the rest of the night

for the next three days, the three of you delve deeper into the possible possession of a man named mark tuan

he was a normal guy from la who moved to England a few years ago so he could be with his long-term girlfriend, and up until recent months he was just like any other man

but then he started to exhibit strange, inhuman habits; such as uprooting a fence post and crunching on the wire mesh, walking on all four limbs, and just the other day he reportedly sniffed out a deer carcass deep in the woods behind his home

after witnessing the man break out into a cold sweat and nearly attack a smaller dog much like a predatory wolf, father jinyoung decided they would perform an exorcism

the plan was to bring mark tuan back to their church in Australia, as the demon manifesting inside of him was something entirely inhuman and could potentially be a threat if it somehow wasn’t fully dismissed

however on the same evening you all were planning to fly to Australia, something triggered mark into a furious frenzy

foam started to dribble between his dry lips, his hair stood up all over his body, and the lanky man literally lunged at father jinyoung - effectively pinning him to the ground as he attempted to gauge out his throat

you leapt into action, throwing yourself onto the back of the man to try and pull his weight off of the priest

meanwhile chan was in a state of sheer panic, watching as his own mentor was being targeted by a very powerful demon before his very eyes

“c-chan,” jinyoung called out to the stunned man, letting out a painful scream as mark tears into his flesh with his teeth, “leave and lock all the door and windows - call father jaebum from the church in London-”

but chan doesn’t listen to him - he silently reassures himself that he can handle a real exorcism himself - it’s what he’s been training to do his entire life

so the blonde snatches a bible from the bookshelf behind him, flipping through it until he finds a set of pages, his gaze wavering in fear and panic as you whip your head around to gawk at him

you scream and shout at him, telling him to listen to the dying man’s words, all the while struggling to pull him towards the front door and away from the possessed man

still he goes on, reciting his teachings word by word until there’s a pregnant pause

mark’s body, still on top of father jinyoung’s, twitches after a certain phrase chan had stuttered out weakly

“y-you didn’t say it the right way-”

“how would you know!?”

“just because i’m not religious doesn’t mean I haven’t done my own damn research,” you hiss quietly, voice shaking as mark continues to twitch madly and turns his attention to the two of you, fresh blood and torn skin hanging from his stained lips, “c-chan, we need to go!”

“no - if we leave then there’s a chance the demon will use his body until it can find a new host and go on torturing innocent people just like mark!” he protests, glancing down at the bible as the brunette man takes a step forward

“chan-”

he doesn’t listen to a word you say, attempting the passage yet again, but more clearly this time

it’s too late, though

on his last word mark charges towards the man, his mouth wide open and prepared to take a chunk of flesh from his neck - but you’re somehow faster. you shove chan out of the way just as the deed is done, receiving a painful bite to your shoulder

in seconds mark’s body collapses onto the ground, a strange, cold presence emitting into the open air before all goes quiet

the series of events that followed that were a blur to you: from chan rushing to cover your wound to the two ambulances that arrive on the scene to take you and father jinyoung to the nearest hospital

before you know it, an entire month has flown by since the southend werewolf incident

you had to stay in the hospital for a majority of that time, since your demon-inflicted wound tended to get infected too easily

by the time you were given the okay to leave, you heard that father jinyoung was still being held there as a patient, his entire throat needing to be worked on for who knows how long

the one interesting outcome of the entire situation, though, was finding a defeated looking chan at your doorstep when you got home

“the church said that, due to my hasty actions and its consequences of you being injured by a demon I was instructed not to interact with, I am to be your caregiver until I am able to go back to learning.”

“... so you’re grounded, basically.”

“please, don’t say it like that.”

so that my friends is how bang chan the sort of exorcist was thrust into your life for good

“heyyy chan, can you please make me some chocolate-chip pancakes for breakfast?”

“your bite is healed, you can cook your own fucking food-”

“ah, but the church said that you have to do whatever I ask of you until you aren’t grounded anymore~”

“... I’ll make them super fluffy if you promise to stop saying it like that.”

so for the next two months, you were accommodating an amusing roommate of sorts

he slept on an air mattress you set up in the living room, so it wasn’t like the poor guy had to suffer with an aching back the entire duration of his ground- of his punishment

each morning he’d cook the both of you breakfast and begrudgingly watch exaggerated dramas with you until lunchtime rolled around

usually he’d take you out to eat and explore the city with you, something he refused to admit actually made him have some fun for once in his life

for dinner you’d both kind of give up on the idea of making real food and would instead order pizza or Chinese takeout, all the while hiding under a set of fluffy blankets next to you in favor of watching scary movies

you kind of hated to admit it, but chan had really grown on you - over time he seemed to accept his mistake back in the England exorcism, and one night he even took the time to apologize to you on his own terms

“chan, I still don’t understand why I have to wear a dress if- oh...”

there the man stood himself, clad in a black tux with a red bowtie next to the tiny dining table stuffed in the cramped kitchen. “I think it’s time that I owe you a real apology for what happened in England... and how I acted. I know that, to a degree, we have different beliefs - but you’re still an amazing, wonderful woman who I would like to call a friend.”

you totally didn’t almost ruin the moment by commenting on how his bowtie was crooked, shhhh

that night he treated you to homemade pasta and brownies for dessert, the first dinner either of you had actually made yourselves since he arrived at your home

ever since that night, the two of you would grow closer and closer - and then his punishment was over

the church had called him immediately, stating that he had to return quickly if he wanted to continue his training

neither of you admitted it aloud, but having to help him pack his things just so he could go back to Australia crushed your hearts

you’d grown so used to each other’s presence, forming a natural routine every single day that never became tiresome

after you bid farewell to the now silver-haired man at the airport, you found yourself feeling more lonely than ever before

sure you both exchanged contacts with one another and talked on the phone often, but it just... wasn't the same, honestly

then, out of the blue, just about two weeks after his departure, chan called you and told you about a haunted house he was being sent to investigate near your city

you weren’t required to go, but you found yourself offering to accompany him during his paranormal studies at the home

the moment you two met up at the house, you went straight into work mode, having no time to catch up since it seemed as if something was very wrong

cameras placed by the two husbands all over the two-story house showed signs of life, even when no one was awake

they reported that they’d seen furniture being tossed around their rooms and that their own daughter had started to experience hellish nightmares that ended with her being covered in scars the next morning

you and chan went to work, looking at every single audio or video file you could find in their tapes and cameras, even interviewing each member of the family alone to see if it was a hoax as the church suspected it to be

then one night, you felt an odd chill roll over your body in the middle of your slumber, though you at first thought nothing of it

but the next morning, there was a circle with a cross etched onto your wrist. chan immediately guessed that the demon had somehow managed to inch its way into your body - though that in itself was odd, especially since demons traditionally had to weaken their target host before fully possessing them

your condition continued to grow worse and worse as the days passed by, up until chan had finally decided that the best course of action was to take you to a church and see what more experienced priests could do

luggage in tow, chan lead you to the front door of the house, bidding a short farewell to the family and promising to send members of the church the same day - yet, you didn’t follow him

or rather, you couldn’t

something forcefully snapped you back into the house, causing you to stumble and crash into a shelving unit on the wall

“y-y/n?”

“mam, are you alright?”

you shake your head, slowly standing back up to walk back to the door where a worried chan was staring at you with furrowed brows

the second the tip of your shoes reach the doorway, another tug slams you onto the cold floor - quickly going to drag your limp body down the hallway into a bedroom before the door suddenly slams shut

you can feel the demon lurking in your body, hungrily feasting upon your state of utter terror - though you try your best to fight it off before it can fully possess you

seconds, minutes, hours - you're not quite sure how much time had passed since you’d been thrown into the secluded bedroom

all you knew was that you had grown so much weaker in that period of time, your eyes struggling to focus on anything in the room

you also knew that chan was banging on the door, trying his damned hardest to break it down

in a woozy state your head bobbles around until your blurry gaze lands on your now exposed shoulder, spotting the wound from the werewolf demon now irritated and red with pus seeping out of it

the demon had been able to subdue you so quickly because you’d technically already been afflicted before, and now it was a race against time before it was able to completely overpower you

with a snap the bedroom door flies open, a rugged looking chan standing with a bible and a slim jar of what you could only guess was holy water

“c-chan,” you echo his name just as the late father jinyoung had, feeling dread sweep over your entire being as another wave of pus pushes out of the inflicted wound on your bare shoulder, “leave, be-before you get hurt-”

“I won’t run away from you, y/n,” he whimpers softly, stepping closer to your now convulsing body as he flips to a page in his bible, “you’re not going to get hurt because of me... not again.”

you find that you’re too exhausted to argue, instead nodding your head silently

“I - I trust you, chan. you’re an exorcist, you can do this-” you stop in your tracks, heaving in pain as a spurt of red blood shoots out from between your cracked lips

with no hesitation at all, the silver-haired man clears his throat and continues to stare you down, occasionally glancing back down to his bible as he perfectly recites the words for the exorcism

he splashes a dosage of holy water onto your skin, wincing as you let out a screech of pain - but he knows it’s not you reacting that way, it’s the demon possessing you

in a matter of seconds he’s performed the passage perfectly, not once stuttering or saying a word incorrectly like he had in England

a wave of relief causes you to topple over when the evil presence vanishes completely from your body, but before you can hit the floor chan has wrapped his arms under yours to hold you up steadily

“I sent the family out to call an ambulance and other members of their church - you’re going to be okay, I promise.” he speaks to you softly, brushing your now frazzled hair out of your face

“I knew you could do it, you know.”

“but - but how, y/n?”

“because I trust you with my life, bang chan.”

[wofuru]

Voltron s8 (long post sorry)

So ... voltron has come to an end (unless there are more surprises coming). And I will say right of the bat that I am devastated.

I know this is 'only' a tv show, but let me explain some things to get you on the same line. I started a little late on the VLD train thinking it was only a mecha anime show at first and then I saw the character designs. Shiro caught my attention right away and Keith as well. And then watched season 1. That moment when Keith finds Shiro and turns his head, his expression at seeing the only person he loves and that have been there for him being alive after all... I fell in love with their relationship. I thought ‘huh oh ... I think I got a pairing I will be shipping XD’ and tough myself as silly. 

And then as the episodes went on, the more we got to see a beautiful, respectful relationship between two men that are equals. Yes Shiro is technically his superior according to ranks at the garrison, but he treat him and all the other paladins as equals. He is their leader, but most of all their friends. Shiro/Keith relationship evolves through the serie, but have always been on the basis that they love each other so so much, but do not stop the other from taking risks, they trust in each other strenghts while they still worry for each other. They keep saving each other in so many ways that are shown to us through the series. 

Sheith vs gays representation in stories/series

Sheith has been since the beginning something more than any of us, more then what anyone could have expected. They represent something we haven’t seen before. And this is a m/m couple relationship that is pure, non-toxic and natural, not forced. And also not between background characters. Yes we have been having as the LGBTQ2+ community more representations in the last few years in different shows. while females couple were more rarely seen at the beginning, they were there as a beautiful and cherished relationship and treated as normal (unless it falls under the stereotype that it’s hawt because its 2 girls having sex in the mind of classical straight guy characters representation). But with m/m relationship, we have been shown as either toxic relationship in which one or both partners cheat with sleeping with someone else or are blatantly sleeping around with just everyone (cheating or as an open relationship sort of). Every gay couple shown as kinky stereotyped relationship that are together only to have sex all the time and nothing else. IN the rare cases that it is not the situation we see, instead we get a character that we learn is gay after a while and mentions having someone in their life that we either never see or are simply a nobody OR someone super stereotyped like a girly boy or drag queen (in which there is nothing wrong with being at all, but they are used as a moquery to being gay in these cases which IS disrespectful). Sheith is the 1st relationship that are neither these. Both are important characters, both are strong characters and none girly to have like a “Who’s the girl in the couple” vibe. They are equals, have a healthy and interesting relationship. Every interactions they have are natural and transpire sensibilities that as men we are still told or shamed everyday if we dare show or talk about. 

AND take into account that not only adults watch the show. Kids of all age love those characters for WHO THEY ARE and learn that it is alright to love people around them, to show them. That it is not wrong to be two boys and love each other so so much, to show your affection towards the other. 

Shiro is also a man that was sick and lived with it knowing he had little time left. He got abducted, abused in so many ways. Lost an arm and still continues to love and care about people. He still continues to fight to what is right, despite his ptsd, despite all. 

Characters in the season

What Season 8 did (and 7 as well to a certain extent) is show us that it doesn’t matter how hard you fight, how hard you care, you’ll get everything get ripped from your hands. Life won’t be kind to you ever. Shiro lost the black lion for no real reason, just an excuse to have Keith become the main character. But moreover got shoved on the side in a corner to be seen once in a while so we in the fandom would not rant too much about him barely existing anymore as a character. In s8 they have stripped him of every character traits he had to make him become the basic space ship AI character type that speaks to only to explain what the audience and the other characters needs to be explained to let the story move on. He does not even get to be the one leading the meetings and building the strategy. Every occasion they had, he was put on the back up line to let Voltron pass forward. He became a plastic character with no personality. 

As for Keith... Keith got every dialogue Shiro would have normally have, even the phrasing of how he speaks is not reminiscence of himself, but the same as Shiro speaks, his words, attitude, everything. So his personality was thrown out the window. The goal of the series had been for him to evolve from the right arm character to a leader (which does not stand right with me for other reasons I will speak in another post maybe in the future), but that is understandable. But for that, he didn’t have to become someone else. Being a leader can be done different ways. Yes Shiro was and is a big influence in his life, but they are two different persons. Why they are so strong together is because they complete one another. Keith could have picked on some things from Shiro, but make it is own that is what I mostly want to say. To see him preside the meetings at the garrison, make the strategy, tell people what to do inside the Atlas, not just the Voltron team is simply bad, both for him and for Shiro’s character. This is completely OOC in many ways and also put Shiro in the corner as non existant, especially since we see in the room with them sitting and saying nothing. 

I have been speaking mostly of Sheith, but the other paladins also lost all their flavors in this season to become 1 dimensional. Hunk is the cook that cares, Pidge the genius geek and Lance ... the worried boyfriend, Allura the character that wants to save everyone herself alone and will stop at nothing to do so. All the side characters of the series were on point, but none of the main cast characters were. Every paladins became those plot exposition devices to explain what was going on because it became so condensed with concepts and ideas that were interesting yes, but there is such a thing a too many things happening. And with all those things they have sacrificed what the people loved the most about the series and it was the characters and their story. The season was about mechas fighting mechas so the universe would not explode too much or will come back. 

Wrapping everything up

Through the series we met a lot of different people, planets and all. We even got the AUs that were confirmed and given in a way to the fandom to validate that all the content fans have been doing were considered as possible because of the infinite quantity of realities in which the characters could have had different lives. This was truly a beautiful gift to everyone, to every crack ships even. 

Now in season 8 we see all those aspects being reduced to shreds. The paladins of old are shown, but disappear forever. The olkari gets destroy and we never hear from them again, all the realities get destroyed expect the one we are following which makes it so that ONLY this one is the real one starting from there. Putting the fans to realize that however this ends in the next minutes of the show, this will be the only possibility the story will end, so you better put your seat belt on, because if your ship doesn’t happen, then no hope for you. 

Pairings and couples

Allura and Lance became a couple through this season after a well evolving relationship through the season, but at the end Allura sacrifice herself, with the team not really trying to stop her, except Lance. Which does not make sense since they do not even react that much until she says her goodbyes to everyone. So they kill one of the pairing right here and there saying that Lance will always think of her and remember her. He gets marks just to remember him more. But there is no chance of redemption, Allura is dead, becoming cosmic dust in the skies. 

Punk didn’t happen, but this is something we could have anticipated. Since they do not seem to be with someone else, this at least gives lenience to an open ending game for them. 

And now Sheith ... at the very end, they have decided that Keith would go back to the Galras and try to make them evolve in a better society, which is interesting BUT. As we see in the 1 year later skip, they do not seem to have been in contact with him at all because they were asking news on how things were going with the Galras. And Shiro is the one asking so it means that they haven’t both been in contact in a long while. Then comes the epilogue in which we see Keith continue to travel the galaxies helping people in his separate way and Shiro ... gets married to a nobody that we never saw before s8 (unless maybe in the background once in s7 I hear). They made the guy speak a few lines during this season and these moments always seemed forced implanted so we would know who he is sort of. The whole s8 (and even 7 to a certain extent), Keith and Shiro never interacts. Like at all. They become complete strangers. Keith is seen behind Shiro at the marriage seen like a posted image half hidden. Which does not make sense and is simply insulting to the fans. If they were not romantically involved, they were if anything at least best friends, there were their everything. And Keith telling Shiro he loved him was never addressed, the whole black paladins episode either. They never talked about it on screen and if it was behind the scene ... it made Shiro stop talking with Keith entirely ? Which he would simply never do and Keith would never abandon Shiro either. We have seen him run the universe times and times again to help him, save him, be there for him. To have Shiro simply leave (and become a HOUSE WIFE no less) is worse then killing the ship, it is an insult to every gay out there. This tells us all that it is ok to be gay, but choose someone that nobody will care so it does not make waves, that when you do, leave to live the discreet life and abandon your dreams and your personality. That basically you need to lose yourself, to hide, to be afraid. That if you tell someone you love that you love them (especially between guys), you will lose them, that they will never speak to you again. 

And THAT is the problem. Yes I am sad my ship didn’t become canon on screen, but if they had made an open ending, it would have been just fine. Have Shiro arrive when Keith leaves for the galras saying ‘hey Keith, we need to talk’ or just leave with them. Anything, but not this. But aside from just my ship, don’t just coward behind because you are afraid to show a main m/m couple show on screen. Sheith is the most beautiful gay representation in American history and instead, DW decided (not Lauren and Dos, I mean above them who made these decisions) litterally piss on our face and throw a bone at usby marrying Shiro to a guy to say hey you got your representation and we are the first animated show to have a gay marriage seen... but it does not count DW. The guy is a nobody cares about, this is just throwing gays under the rug, again. 

Modified scenes

With everything that have been digged out by now after s8 dropped, we now know that this ending was NOT the one the creators did and wanted. They wanted to most likely make Sheith cannon, and I am pretty sure this wedding sequence was suppose to be Keith and Shiro due to a post Lauren made not so long ago about what seemed to be it showing a black and a red hearts which has been the representation logos the fans have been using for Sheith since the beginning. I also found this last scene when the lions leaves slightly off. The moment we see Shiro and Keith one behind the other (which is gorgeous), Shiro seemed weird and I realized why by seeing someone talk about it on twitter. Shiro is missing his left arm at that moment and shoulder making him look was thinner. Which look like he was there maybe with his hand on Keith’s shoulder like on the drawing Lauren gave us the day before the season aired.  We know that Ezor was supposed to be dead, but they brought her back after all with another VA which means they did this change very last second and couldn’t get the VA to join perhaps. They added scenes with this couple maybe to purchase our silence into the lgbtq2+ community representation, so we would have 2 couples and shouldn’t whine about it. But ... by doing this and sacrificing maybe scene Shiro and Keith had during this season to have none at all is again just an insult to the fans of the serie. S8 was bad from beginning to end. Some elements were fine, but 90% not. This is an insult to the fandom, to the dedicated fans and also to the crew who worked on the show for so long. 

.... with all that said, since we know now that LM/DS didn’t have this ending in mind, this means the S8 ending (at least the epilogue) is actually not canon. Yes it was aired, but it was made by people who took the final result, basically sabotaged/vandalized it and gave it to people to see. Sheith is canon and this is not fine that it ends this way. I do pray they will hear us all and make things right. Give us the real footage of this season, release it to us and even better remove the season we have on netflix now and put the real one. This is something they can do, they have the real footings. And some series have done this before by removing episodes that ended up being racist and disrespectful. Making things right would prove they care about the fans of the show and the people that were there to support them and also the crew who worked so hard and made so much efforts and put their soul into their work. 

I’ll still be posting Sheith arts and fic. This relationship have moved me like nothing ever did in my life (and I am 32) and made me get back on my feet from a very dark place. I am like Shiro, I have ptsd due to events that happened in my life that were done to me. I was judged all my life and worked hard to be where I am today. I am disabled in some ways and also come from an abusive family where I was raised to be a slave. Seeing a show like voltron, a character like Shiro made me see what I was and the wounds I had that I was walking on all those years. Because of him I finally got the courage to get to see doctors and specialists to heal all those wounds so they would become scars. And I know I am not the only one. Voltron was the best thing that happened to me in many ways and to see it destroy so many lives now (because this is what this season has done) is the saddest thing. I am scared to see kids when scars from this and I know this is already happening. And adults will have to. 

Send your love to the animators and VAs and LM/DS for all their work and let’s hope we can fix this somehow or help them do it. 

[evotter]

jan, march, sept + one of your choice, love. have a great day, u icon

thank u kyra i adore u

january: what was the first fic you posted this year?

the first fic i posted this year TECHNICALLY was the epilogue of a different path. the first standalone was chewbacca (aka my introduction to the jily world once again and i have such a soft spot for it)

march: do you listen to music whilst writing? 

yes! pretty much always; if it’s not music, it’s a TV show.

september: share a comment or review which still warms your heart?

quite literally anything you’ve left on any of my fics BUT there are a few that i hold dear to my heart. i’ll post them under the cut cause they are LONG :’)

ancient: the first fic you ever posted online?

hahahaaaaaaa. it was my own version of rick riordan’s the son of neptune before the actual book was published. it was on ff.net, and the first chapter got 7 reviews, and i felt so good about myself after that lmfao. who knew i’d still be writing 8 years later?

ask me questions!

OKAY so i have 3 top favorites:

from a different path:

okay so i had seen this in someone else’s bookmarks the other day, thought it was an interesting concept—especially since i too love slytherin!percy and strongly subscribe to ofswordsandpens’ headcanons about it—but didn’t give it another thought until i was listening to a video about the cursed child and went: wait, there’s a percabeth hogwarts au that i saw somewhere. and immediately i hunted this down and i’m just in awe? i tore through it. belatedly, i realized that i made a mistake: i didn’t write down my thoughts as i was reading, which is definitely a disservice to you. however, here are a generalized list of things that i loved.

first of all, with hogwarts au’s, there are three main aspects that i look for: plot, characterization, and quality of writing. normally, fics of this size lack one or more of these key factors, but i was astonished to find that the plot is tremendously tight and intriguing (my lip bled from biting it so much because i’ve been stressed to the max), you write these characters with such distinct voices i can easily picture them saying everything—except, of course, now in a little british accent—and your writing flows so well, it feels almost like i’m reading an actual harry potter book, just with percy and co. you also do a masterful job of weaving together aspects of the pjo universe with the established canon of hp.

and there are so many specific things that i love. primarily, the way you write the relationships in this story; not just concerning percabeth (though i will get to that in a minute), but also with each of the interactions between all of the characters. i applaud you for how you handled luke/annabeth and rachel/percy, and the friendship among them all is just incredibly well done. i especially love how well you wrote connor and zoë and just, a lot of characters that i don’t often think about when i think of pjo. grover and percy’s friendship especially is heartbreaking, i just. he’s so protective because he loves his friends and holy fuck i also love how you wrote grover in this. but i just adored how you wrote annabeth/percy—the love between them, both platonic in its early stages and the romantic all throughout, was doubly apparent. i ached when they kissed each other’s cheeks, and i inwardly cheered when she kissed him in the locker room. there was just such a natural progression, to me, of their relationship. and man did i dig it. i’m excited (and maybe a little scared) to see where you take their relationship in the future.

boy, this is getting long. sorry. but some more just little quick things: loved the b99 reference, with both of their competitive natures playing out in a similar way to jake and amy’s. i kind of want to go back and see if i can find any other references that i missed because i was just too engaged in the story to catch them. also, zoë’s death killed me all over again, thanks for that. i like how you’re working the kronos plot in, and i can’t wait to see how the Final Battle plays out. what else? oh! professor hestia? beautiful. eventual maybe professor percy? outstanding. percy kissing the top of annabeth’s head? breathtaking. rachel being a quidditch commentator? earth shattering. (truly i cackled when i saw that.) mrs. o’leary being a cat? incredible. how you incorporated percy’s water powers? stunning.

ooh, this exchange was beautiful and had me cackling it was so in-character:

“None of us are dying.” Connor clarifies. “Not you, not me, not Annie, not the rest of us.”

“I might have to dispute that.” Annabeth says, from Percy’s other side. “Call me ‘Annie’ one more time, Stoll, and I’ll kill you myself.”

Connor only grins at her. “Sorry, love. No more ‘Annie’. Can I call you Beth?”

“No.”

“Anna?”

“No.”

okay, so i just finished chapter nine and i am blown away. sorry for how long this comment was, but a fic of this magnitude truly warrants it. i can’t wait to see what happens next.

i leave you with just two words: “holy shit.”

from a different path: 

god, oh my god, am i the only dumb bitch who didn’t get what the prophecy was??

anyway, i stumbled on this fic last year, patiently waiting for its completion, and now that i’ve rediscovered it, i’m so glad i finished it all in one go! i couldn’t imagine the tension of waiting for the next chapter, especially since the tension is so well-crafted!! i hardly noticed the tonal shift even as the story got darker and darker as it led up to the war, and in that way i was reminded of how extremely similar it felt to reading the hp books for the first time! you nailed percy very well i might say, and the awkward-yet-caring relationship he has with his dad. i daresay you gave connor and zoe more characterization than rick riordan himself, and the percabeth you wrote is perfect to the nth degree. i appreciate that you didnt bother with all the love triangle and unrequited feelings nonsense as well.

but i have to say, even as i cried at sally and paul’s wedding, or at dionysus’ quiet mourning for castor, what really struck with me most was the way you handled silena. for that, i have no words. that was a job extremely well done. thank you so much for blessing us with this fic.

from chewbacca (a comment from u!): 

A girl in a bright yellow hooded raincoat stumbles into the cafe on one of the slowest nights James has ever seen. Her coat is dripping all over the floor he’d just cleaned (but it’s fine) and when he leans over the counter he sees that her boots match the coat.

First of all!!! Thats the best opening line in the world and nobody can convince me otherwise. I want to become a publisher just so that if you ever write a book, I’d be able to publish it. ( like omg, what an honor??? )

She looks like sunshine, standing there with the amount of yellow in her wardrobe. Briefly, James wonders if that’s her favorite color. It’s got to be.

Im going to quote this whole fic but I really love these lines? Like, you have this distinct style of writiting that I aim to acheive and you’re literally such a rolemodel!!! These are my favorite kind of fics to read. Funny story but I was going through a ‘no thanks Jily’ mood (  a horror, i know !! ) but your fics are just,,,,exceptions? You could write about trash and I’d love it and ask for you to sign me up.

 “Say it again, but convincingly this time.”

ooof this dialogue??? let me breathe

This is the longest he’s stood still since he started working. It’s actually a miracle.

and the funniest person award goes to YOU. also, the most talented and cutest but thats neither here nor there.

james taking care of fleamont, switching off the lights gives me just a nice and realistic vibe? its so simple but i love how you added it.

honestly at this point, ive been sucked again by the fanfic. it feels less like a fic and more like a masterpiece that belongs in a museum but anyway.

“James is supposed to be helping.

James is on his phone.”

ugh i love ur mind. im rereading and its so nice and lovely. even if its like 1am and im exhausted, this fic is sustaining me.

“Do it off the clock, would you?”

PEAK HUMOR

have i mentioned how much i love that scene with euphemia? she seems like such a lovely mom. i love ur euphemia the most. and ahh, both of them just rushing to the hospital ? another 100% good scene.

“Euphemia smiles too, but looks at Fleamont rather than at her son. “Yes,” she says. “It really does.””

fic? or shakspeare? HMMM

A girl in a bright yellow hooded raincoat stumbles into the cafe on one of the slowest nights James has ever seen // “Get fucked.”

the fic!! has made a circle!!! i love how it begins and ends along the same lines. I really want to know how??? are you so talented im in love.

i just really love this fic, okay? i love how james is just the kindest, lily is allowed to have feelings, its just so soft and warm. and it makes someone feel loved, want love anyway.

the dynamic between the characters are just so real and great and im astounded, in short.

your sirius is everything. so many fics potray him as a dick??? which is first of all #rude and also, not at all true. you made me love these characters even more so i sincerely hope you never stop writing.

you’re such a beautiful writer and the way you string words together is just poetic and gorgeous and all the other good adjectives you can think of. i read your spiderman x reader too and i was a goner for you. EVERYTHING YOU WRITE IS SO GOOD. i read it so long ago but i can vividly remember peter whipping the mask off and she just going wtf stop on the window ledge. what im trying to say is that you leave this lasting impression on people that make them remember random scenes and words / prose long after they’ve read it which is a remarkable feat, i believe.

and im so sorry im not on tumblr rn bc i cannot keep recing this fic but i have told my friends about your writing and they loved it too. you’ve got like a million fans. when i do get back from my hiatus, im going to keep recing your fics and people will cry because their universe will shift thanks to the newfound joy of your presence in their life.

lastly, im more of a dog person and that, more than anything, should tell you how much i love this fic. i love u. and basee on your writing, i want to hug you, be your best friend and make you cookies bc again

WOW