#use this for angst purposes? me?

[8-rae-rae-8]

I don't care. Poly!141. John Price and his guard dogs. Hell, John Price and his attack dogs. I don't care. Look at them. Look at them and tell me they aren't prepared to bite if given the order. Look at them and tell me they wouldn't listen to their handler before anything else. Look at them, they're well trained.

[drysaladandketchup]

for the "things you said" writing meme -- matthew/leon, 12 :)

Thank you for the request <3 I realised very quickly I have no idea what constitutes a 'mini' fic. I struggle to write 'mini' anything lol. Hopefully this still satisfies :)

12. things you said when you thought i was asleep

It takes all of Matthew's willpower not to reach over and smash his phone just to shut off the alarm. All that saves his wallet and an awkward trip to the Apple store is the split-second realisation that the shrieking in his ear isn't his usual alarm.

It's a ringtone. Not his own, either.

He pries his eyes open to find the world through the window is still dark. One of the balcony doors is still ajar, letting in a cool night breeze. He's lying on his side in his own bed, the end of the all-star weekend memorialized by several aches and bruises.

His hips and ass are a little sore too, but that's unrelated. Technically.

The ringing stops. Someone huffs behind him.

Someone. Yeah, no, Matthew knows who it is. They may have met up at the bar once the media was done swarming, but Matthew was far from drunk. Painfully sober, in fact. If he's being honest with himself, he was hoping things would turn out this way.

One more time. One more moment. Because it's been a long time since they were them. Longer still since the sex was just sex, since hate became want. Matthew is strong in a lot of ways, but not against this.

"Davo." Leon's voice is low, and still gruff from sleep when he answers his phone. He sits up on his side of the bed, trying not to disturb Matthew, pulling the covers back up over Matthew's shoulder like he thinks he'll freeze to death in this balmy Florida winter.

Usually Matthew's a heavy sleeper. But never when Leon's around. He makes it impossible for Matthew to completely relax, to let time slip by. Leon's just too big of a presence, almost too much to bear. It was more important that everything linger, to bask in the strange comfort of their relationship, whatever it was. They had so little time. Even less, now.

"I know it's late. No, no, I'm not at the hotel. I'm... I'm with Tkachuk."

Leon says his last name like it's wrong, like it's rotting on his tongue.

When he corrects himself, says, "Matthew", it's better, lighter. Like it's ambrosia.

Matthew remembers when Leon Draisaitl saying his name wouldn't have meant a damn thing to him. When that simple act didn't fill him with fondness.

In the silence, Matthew can hear McDavid talking on the other end, but can't quite make out what he's saying. Matthew tucks up under the duvet, breathing quiet and even, trying to focus instead on the distant sound of waves and the ticking clock on his wall.

Ticking. Always ticking. Time bleeds out when they're together.

He doesn't even remember falling asleep last night, but he wishes he hadn't now. He wishes he'd stayed awake longer, just to... just to see him. To look Leon in the eye, to talk about everything and nothing until dawn, to feel big, too-warm hands on his body more and more and more. He wants to make sure he'll remember how Leon feels, sounds, tastes.

"Connor," Leon says, a warning, followed by a sigh. "I know. I know, okay? It was stupid, but..."

Maybe it was. Matthew has a good thing here in Florida. Better than ever. He was happy to leave Alberta behind and start over. So why did leaving make him feel like a coward?

Because leaving was about Calgary, and the Flames. About his career and his future. It wasn't about Leon. Leon was the wrench in the gears; the one thing he didn't expect to have to say goodbye to, the kind of hurt he never could have accounted for.

"I needed to see him." Leon sounds helpless. He's not the only one.

The only time he's heard Leon so lost was after his team was knocked out of the playoffs last season. The Oilers meant nothing--Matthew was pretty fucking glad considering they'd beat out the Flames--but he never wanted to hear Leon like that again.

He definitely never wanted to be the cause of it. Not like this.

Leon is still mumbling into his phone. "Yeah, I'm fine. He's... we're good. He's happy."

A hand settles on Matthew's head. Fingers play with his curls, nails scratch his scalp. A thumb presses just behind Matthew's ear, stroking the soft skin where only hours before Leon had put his lips, whispering sweetness and filth in equal measure.

It takes everything for Matthew not to groan, to whimper and surrender, roll over and climb on top of Leon and take all over again. Beg him to take something--everything--from Matthew.

"I don't know," Leon says then.

It's easy to guess what McDavid asked.

He's happy. But are you?

"I can't even tell him I still love him."

Still. Matthew didn't even know there was a before, let alone a still. Leon never said anything. Fuck, if Matthew wasn't busy trying to remember how to breathe, he'd roll over and punch him.

Then again, what did Matthew ever say? They never talked about it. Never let those closet hook-ups and slipping out back doors and little drinks and dinners and overnights excused as practical necessity be anything more than that. A bunch of chirps and half-truths and aborted discussions because it was all becoming too much. There was too much uncertainty. Too many ways it could go wrong.

It did go wrong. It became something. It became real.

Maybe that would have changed something. Maybe it wouldn't have changed anything at all. It doesn't matter now. Matthew left, and neither of them said a word about things like love, because it was easier to hope it would shrivel and die with distance and time.

"I know I'm being stupid." Leon pauses when McDavid interrupts, then huffs. "No, I am. Fuck, I really thought I'd get over it. Maybe I will. Eventually."

Don't you fucking dare, you piece of shit, Matthew wants to scream.

"Not sure I can, though." Leon swallows so loud Matthew can hear it. Then quieter, like he's not sure he's even allowed to admit it, he says, "I don't really want to."

He's still playing with Matthew's hair, occasionally dragging a finger over his bare shoulder or down his back, tracing imaginary lines across Matthew's flesh. Like he's something to be memorized and cherished.

They're both so fucking stupid. Matthew bites his lip and tries not to choke on the lump in his throat. Could be his heart, climbing right up and out of his mouth. He clings to the sheets with shaking hands.

"I'm not going to fuck up what he's got here," Leon says tiredly, voice thick with tension and pathetic resignation.

Leon's not here to drag him back. He wouldn't do that. So why is he here? Just to torture them both? Being with him doesn't feel like torture. It feels like winning. It feels like defiance and decadence and too much and not enough. It feels like what could have been and what could still be.

He didn't find Leon at that bar and bring him home out of pity, or nostalgia, one last fuck for old times sake. It was... it just was. Not an ending. Not some final goodbye. Proof maybe there could still be something. Getting over it was never an option, Matthew knew that well before he stepped onto the ice as a Panther and found himself staring Leon down all over again.

Matthew's vision is blurring. His eyes sting, warm and wet. There's blood pounding in his ears, and a hand clutching his heart, a vice around his lungs. He hardly remembers how to breathe.

He doesn't catch the rest of Leon's conversation, except something about meeting Connor back at the hotel tomorrow. Meaning he's staying the night, at least. He's staying.

When Leon hangs up the phone, Matthew finally comes up for air. He relaxes his shoulders, listening to the soft thump as Leon taps his phone against his forehead over and over. Then it clatters on the side table. Leon sighs, sniffs, and sinks back under the covers. He tucks right up against Matthew's back, still burning like a furnace, soft muscle and skin brushing Matthew's spine in all the right ways.

He throws an arm around Matthew and finds one of his hands, worming his fingers through the gaps to hold it. His palm is sweaty, not that it matters at all to Matthew. He can't help squeezing Leon's hand a little, but if Leon notices, he doesn't say a word.

Not until he's wrapped tight around Matthew, near suffocating, like any part of them that isn't touching is a sin.

"Love you," Leon mumbles, barely more than a whisper, pressing his lips right to the base of Matthew's neck. Matthew's body can't seem to decide whether to shiver or melt under the heat.

Leon says it like it's inevitable. Painful. Pitiful.

What he's saying is, I'm sorry I love you. I'm sorry I couldn't say it before. I'm sorry I don't know how to say it now. I'm sorry it's too late, it's the wrong place, the wrong time.

Like he doesn't think Matthew could ever understand. And that's the worst part of it all. They're still not on the same page. Tearing down what they never built.

If Leon's only brave enough to say it when Matthew's asleep, then Matthew will just have to be brave enough to say it in the light of day. He doesn't run, and he won't now that he knows he doesn't have to.

He stares into the night outside his window, listening to Leon breathe, feeling his heart beat through Matthew's chest like that's where it longs to be.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow maybe they can stop chasing time long enough to make the most of what they have. To make up for what they've wasted. And whatever happens after, well, maybe they can stop being afraid of that, too.

[shadedheart138]

I'll Be Here Until You're Okay

Legend was fine when they landed in Skyloft. It'd been ages since Sky had seen Groose or Sun, and he quite literally cried when he saw them again. Sky deserved to see his partners, deserved to see his Loftwing, his home. It was a blissful few days of rest, before they had to leave due to hearing of a group of black blooded monsters nearby.

Legend was fine when they landed in Outset, even with the memories of the waves, the sand, a girl and a dream. Wind had missed his grandma and sister so much, and he'd screamed as soon as they hit the sand. He ran faster than Legend had ever seen him run. Wind had smiled more than he had in a while too, and Legend got really sunburnt and quite miserable.

Legend was fine when they landed in Four's world. It was good to see Four's Grandpa again, to trade stories and fix some of Wild's broken weapons. Four had been excited to see the Minish again, and get a chance to talk to Dot.

They were fine when they landed in Time's. The ranch was quiet and felt almost like home. Malon was kind as always, and they had good places to sleep. Fighting was easier, almost, with the knowledge they'd have an actual bath and mattresses to sleep on when they were done.

Fine in Wild's. Flora had been ecstatic to see her partner again, and Wild relaxed a good bit around her. Seeing Farosh had been a rare treat, and the hot springs Wild had brought them all to were heavenly.

Fine in Twilight's. Ordon was just as quiet as the ranch had been.

Hyrule's. Good to see Hyrule acting confident for once.

Warriors'. The bars were good.

But they were most decidedly not fine once they landed in Wild's again, after only a couple of months away from it. ***

Legend stepped forward out of the portal, Hyrule right behind them. They blinked in the bright sunlight, expecting to see a familiar landmark, the house they shared with Ravio...

When none of that was seen and instead they were greeted by an open field, Legend froze. Why Wild's Hyrule again? Why? Hylia must really hate them if she won't even let them go home. Legend hated her just as much, she never let them rest, not even after all the adventures. No matter how many times Legend did her bidding, she was never satisfied. Legend clenched a fist, angry. They wanted to go home.

Home.

Oh, Ravio.

Legend's eyes watered. They let their hand unclench, suddenly gripping the side of their skirt instead. It'd been almost five months since Legend had seen Ravio. Legend bit their lip and didn't notice their name had been called until the entire Chain was watching them with worried expressions. Legend took their hands from their skirt and clasped them together instead, with a sort of finality. "Wild. This is yours, right?" Fuck, Legend's voice broke. Legend took a shuddering breath, watching Wild. Wild nodded, expression sad. Legend nodded stiffly right back, before turning around and beginning to walk, shaking. They didn't care where they went, not right now. If the road didn't lead to home then Legend didn't care.

"Legend-?"

Legend ignored Warriors, continuing to walk. The longer their mind dwelled on home, on Ravio, the worse they felt. Legend was quite tired of feeling sad already.

Ravio. Legend missed him so much. The space between his teeth, his scarf. Sheerow. His laugh. The feeling of his hands against Legend's. The gentle curve of the back of his neck against Legend's hand. The stumble when they danced together.

Legend hadn't even received a letter from their husband in what, three, four weeks? Almost a month? (Married for tax purposes, Legend always insists. Lies.) What if Ravio was hurt? Worse, what if Ravio was dead? Fuck. The thought alone... Legend choked, giving a soft whine. They brought a hand over their mouth, trying to stifle it. Tried not to cry, don't cry, don't cry, don't-

A soft hand came down on Legend's shoulder, encouraging them to turn. Legend turned, eyes squeezed shut, biting their lip hard to try and make the pain there worse than the pain in their heart. Legend was gently pulled forwards into someone's chest- Time, only Time had that height -and Time's hand came up behind Legend's head to cradle it close. Ravio had always held them the exact same as Legend was being held by Time right now. It hurt.

"I'm sure the next portal we go through will be yours, Legend." Time said quietly. Legend gave a soft sob- the way they were being held, how much they missed Ravio, the soft tone, it was all too much- and that was all it took for them to lose the tiny bit of control they had over their emotions. Legend shakily put their arms around Time, fisting the back of the man's shirt tightly.

"I miss Ravio." Legend whispered, crying harder as soon as Ravio's name was out of their mouth.

"I know, Legend. You'll see him again soon." Time soothed, hugging Legend for an undetermined amount of time. By the time they were done, the rest had set up camp most of the way and Wild was making lunch. Legend sat down next to the fire, close to no one.

Warriors offered Legend whatever Wild had made for lunch. Legend refused, staring into the fire. An apple was put into their hand.

Legend looked at it, and reluctantly took a bite. It wasn't long before Hyrule was pressed to Legend's left side, trying to comfort. The soft tingle of magic against Legend was soothing, even if only a little. Wind quietly came to rest against Legend's other side, small hands fiddling with a seashell. Legend tiredly watched the fire, tuning everything out.

Ravio, Ravio, Ravio. Every heartbeat pressed Ravio's name into Legend's head. If they closed their eyes they could see their home. The place they put their shoes. Where they packed up their gear. The rocking chair. A table with a cup Legend had carved out of wood, when their hands didn't shake. A blanket that Ravio had crocheted, at the end of their shared bed.

Legend hugged themself, bringing a shaky hand to an earring in their ear. Enchanted with both a minor protection charm and a resistance to lightning. Ravio had given them to Legend for an anniversary. Legend took a shuddering breath. Their anniversary had already passed, and Legend didn't even get to spend it with their husband.

That night, Legend slept away from everyone, and poorly. They were grouchy all the way to the nearest stable, and then some. Warriors didn't jab at them even once the entire trip.

xxx

A week passed in Wild's world. A week and a half.

Two.

Every day, Legend was worse and worse. Everyone was quiet around them, lest they shatter whatever fragile state Legend was in. They cried, and frequently. No further words from Ravio, no reassurance that he was okay.

Three weeks.

Four.

xxx

They spent a month and a half in Wild's world. When the next portal appeared, everyone cheered. No matter how pretty Wild's world was, blood moons were no fun and neither were the guardians. Legend stepped through the portal first, and even chanced a prayer to Hylia. Another one to Lolia for good measure.

Please, let this one be mine. Let me be home.

They landed in an apple orchard. Legend rubbed their eyes and turned around to help Sky through, then Wind. When everyone was through, Legend put a hand on one of the trees, thumbing an engraving on it. L + R.

Link and Ravio. They'd engraved their initials in every one of these trees, after an escapade with a good bottle of wine.

Legend was home.

Legend started stripping themself of their gear, much to the Chain's surprise. They got their boots off, ignoring the questions, and started pulling on the Pegasus Boots. They started cursing up a storm when they had to untie the left one. As soon as they were on enough to stand, Legend clicked their heels and fucking bolted.

It didn't matter that they ran into a tree on the way there. All that mattered was the man in the purple button up, sleeves rolled up and hands in the garden soil. What mattered was the way he hummed and the way his fingers moved and the wedding band on a cloth beside him. Legend wrenched the boots off their feet as soon as Ravio was in their sight, and yelled for him.

"Rav! Ravio, I'm home!" Legend had tears in their eyes, scrambling to get to Ravio.

"Link?" Ravio's head whipped around, and he dropped whatever he had been trying to plant. He'd barely risen to his feet before Legend barreled into him, hugging almost tight enough to bruise.

"Link-? Oh, honey." Ravio whispered, as Legend started crying hard.

"I missed you, I missed you so much, Rav. I love you. I was so worried when you didn't send any letters, I thought you could've been dead and-" Legend whispered, the rest of the words lost against Ravio's skin, holding so tight as if Ravio would disappear like the girl on the island. Legend wouldn't be able to take it if that happened again.

"Breathe, dear. I missed you too, and I love you just as much. If not more. I was equally worried, since I haven't heard word from you in months." Ravio said softly, and even though his hands were covered in dirt, he brought one of them to cradle the back of Legend's head very firmly. Even though Time had held them like this more than a month ago, it hadn't felt the same.

This was home, and it smelled like lavender and apple soap. The other hand landed on Legend's back. They were still swaying lightly together when the rest of the Chain caught up. Sky flopped down onto the grass, wheezing. After a few moments, both Hyrule and Four joined him.

Legend whined very audibly when Ravio tried pulling away, tightening their grip.

"Link, we've got visitors."

"Don't care. Please, stay, please. Just a little bit longer, Rav. It's been so long. I was so scared." Legend's voice was soft, barely heard, whispered against skin.

Ravio sighed, and kissed Legend on the forehead.

"A little bit longer, then." Ravio sniffled, tightening his hold.

Link's wedding band glittered on their right hand, the only ring that Legend had brought themselves to wear for a while. They'd polished and fiddled with it a little obsessively. Sheerow twittered about, pulling at Legend's hair, nipping at his ear tips, his own little way of saying, "Hello, welcome home, missed you."- no matter how irritating. Sheerow was gently told something by Ravio, and after a moment, Ravio's right hand had the same ring resting on the designated finger.

"You're alright, honeybun. I'm here." Soft, whispered against Legend's cheekbone.

"I'm real."

Legend sobbed, squeezing tight.

Ravio was here, and he was very, very real.

fin.

[jimbodyson]

The Words of the Ruby- Scanlan doesn't know what to do with himself after he misses Kaylie in Nicodranas. After visiting a very specific bar there, The Ruby of the Sea talks to him about his feelings.

Been wanting to write this for some time and I loved how it turned out. Very much a passion project of mine. Please do give it a read.

[b00m-b0mb]

Something really funny that's occurred to me is the way Joe talks about Maccie is like she's some catastrophic event that happened to their family "I can't believe she's been here that long." / "Everything's been different since she was born" / "Everything changed." / "She changed everything."

And it's just rlly funny to me. I want to up the dramaticness of his words at some point. And anyway, he's talking to the Samurai/Ronin for the first time and I'm wondering the impression he's getting lmao

Joe is certainly expressive to me, but only when he's given the chance. And I think w Ronin, he just started letting a lot of stuff out bc thus guy is gonna go on his way anyways.. but then he's like wait!!! Actually let me go?? For a little? (Platonic yearning so bad)

Ronin like 》^. "I suppose.. Alright, curious karate man, I'll accompany you a little longer."

Or something I'm messing around UGH

[vandalizedheart]

I think the funniest thing is how much nikki and theia/metal sonic contrast regarding how they are towards eggman. nikki is traumatized over killing eggman, feels aimless now that he's gone, unfortunately saw him as the closest thing to a father figure she's ever had.

meanwhile theia fuckin hates eggman, loathes the circumstances of her creation and is determined to defy that and exist on her own terms. probably asks nikki to marry her once she finds out she killed eggman. builds him a grave just so she can dump human piss all over it.

[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Snippets: Free Day Thursday

By way of poll, we're back to the Gremlinverse. Damas is now actively involving himself in The Haven Situation

Damas secured the cloth around his head, tightening it over his crown. Just because the Baron was dead, didn’t mean his supporters were. The council that ruled the day to day matters of the city still wanted their previous king dead, last Damas had heard. If they were to discover that not one but three members of the House of Mar lived, they'd be livid.

Securing the turban with a pin, Damas turned to pick up his scarf and froze.

The other Mar -- the one calling himself Jak -- stood in the doorway, watching him. Now that he'd been noticed, the little boy tensed up.

"Uh-"

That was all Damas managed to get out before the child bolted.

"No wait-!"

By the time he'd rounded the corner, Jak was nowhere to be seen. With no one there to witness, Damas didn’t mind letting his shoulders fall. Mar remembered him, Mar was safe and happy and alive. That was more than he could have hoped for already. But the way this second child flinched away from touch and wouldn't trust more than three people-

It ate away at him. It burrowed into Damas’s heart like a thorn and jabbed deeper with every mistrustful look Jak cast at the world around him.

Sig said this boy had been older before. Something to do with a Precursor -- what a week it had been if that wasn't the most unbelievable part of the sentence -- trying to undo some horrible thing Praxis had done to him. Something about a perversion of time and space: doubling a child and forcing him to grow up unnaturally quickly to become a soldier. Or, that was the gist of what Sig had picked up. It did explain a lot of the boy’s reactions. But to know that someone had done this evil thing to Mar -- even if it was not the same Mar he had delivered and cradled from birth -- filled Damas with a rage that threatened to undo all his efforts to present a non-threatening front.

Praxis was dead, and that was as great an injustice as what had befallen his son. Or sons, rather.

Yet the elder boy, the one Sig was so fond of, he said that he and Jak had been there to watch to life flicker out of Praxis's eyes. They'd stood there dispassionately, listened to his death rattle, and then moved on to dismantle his ultimate weapon, irreverently tossing pieces of it onto his corpse. There was a kind of vindication in that. It still stung that Damas could not have avenged his children himself, but at least Jak had been able to see his enemy brought low.

The sound of a muffled argument down the stairs drew Damas’s attention. He crept down the stairs, deftly avoiding the spots the children had already demonstrated to be creaky. As he drew closer to the back of the bar, Damas identified one of the irate voices as Jak’s.

"-suddenly I've outlived my usefulness, is that it?"

"Stop putting words in my mouth, Jak!"

That one sounded familiar. And irritating.

"You know better than anyone that destiny comes for us whether we're ready or not. But in your...current state...it is better for you to prepare to face that destiny. Leave the ridiculous dangers for when you get some power back."

Damas peered around the edge of the doorway and glimpsed Jak baring his teeth and a short, mossy green man with a hefty piece of wood in his hair.

"There it is. It's always about power, isn't it? Gotta make me a super-soldier again so you don't have to do your own work. I knew you hadn't just spontaneously grown a conscience," Jak said bitterly.

"That's the dark eco talking," the tree stump man said condescendingly. "I told you, you need to learn control, and discipline! But no, no one ever listens to old Samos. He's only-"

Jak interrupted him, scurrying to cut off his approach. "You come near the kid and I'll show you just how "controlled" the eco is. The Precursors erased all the experiments -- too bad for you -- and most of my impulse control."

He balled up his fists and took a ready stance.

"Hand to the Oracles, I will channel a fireball straight into your unmentionables if you say a word to Mar or Daxter."

Damas had heard enough. He stepped down out of the wide stairwell with a noticeable thump and squared his shoulders. As expected, both the two arguers and the girl at the bar flinched or twitched at his sudden appearance.

"Is there a problem here?" Damas asked calmly.

He looked around the mostly empty pub and frowned.

"Where's the gangly boy?"

"He left me behind!" Jak snapped, then retreated into a shadowed booth. To sulk, apparently.

The girl cringed. "There's...Commander Torn sent Daxter out to the North Agriculture sector to deal with some metalheads trying to nest down there. Jak was all ready to go, but they kept giving him the run around."

She aimed a skeptical frown at the little green man. "Samos was pretty insistent that Jak stay and train his channeling, but I'm pretty sure Jak is already an expert. He got shorter, not less skilled."

Damas rubbed his chin. "And Jak and Daxter...they are not often apart, are they?"

Samos made a rude noise. "That little weasel's been riding Jak’s coattails since they were sprouts. He's the sidekick."

"He's my brother!" Jak snarled, coming partway out of the booth.

"And he's a better man than you'll ever be!"

The girl tensed and leaned clenched fists on the bartop. "Mr. Hagai, I've just about had enough of your attitude. What is your deal, dude? I swear, you're physically incapable of seeing Daxter without becoming verbally abusive."

Samos rolled his eyes. How airheaded did this girl have to be to have been taken in by Daxter's wild stories? It didn't bode well for the protection and guidance of Jak's younger self while they scrambled to put the Time Map back together.

"When you're older, and maybe wiser, you'll understand why I have to be tough on them. I don't expect a bunch of kids to know what's best for them."

"Wow." The girl curled her lip at the sage. "Yikes."

"Don't bother with him, Tess," Jak grumbled from the booth. "Getting Samos to say something nice is like talking to a rock."

Damas filed the name away in his head and realized he'd gotten her mixed up with the other blonde that hung around the bar.

Tess was the teenager with the creative weapons, Jinx was the grown man. Not the other way around.

Tess turned towards the corner where Jak had sequestered himself. "Has he ever apologized for any of that?"

"Uh, no. That would require convincing him that he's wrong."

"Mm. That's about what I figured." Tess shook her head and leveled a dirty look at Samos. "Jak, lemme tell you something my mama told me when I was little: never trust an adult who refuses to apologize to a child."

"Oh for taproots' sakes. Daxter isn't a child!" Samos argued.

"He's seventeen!" Tess answered sharply, "And you guys sent him out there without his backup!"

Damas held up his hands as if holding both of them back. "Alright. I've heard enough. Hagai: leave."

Samos turned to squint up at him. "And you are...who, exactly?"

Damas raised an eyebrow in silence and waited for the crabby little man to connect the dots. He turned a gratifying shade of gray when the realization hit him, but Damas wasn't in the mood to answer any questions. He stepped around the bar and crossed the room in two great strides. Taking hold of the sputtering sage's arm, he continued on to the door. As it opened, he swung back his arm and in one fluid motion he flung Samos out onto the street.

"Out," he said firmly.

"I-! You-! I've- why I've never been so insulted!" Samos gasped.

"How lucky for you to have a new experience, then," Damas answered dryly. Then his face hardened.

"I don't know who you think you are, but your meddling is not welcome in my family. And you can tell that Guard commander and the Praxis girl the same thing."

He didn't wait for an answer.

Damas stepped back and keyed the door shut with a smack against the palm pad. Rotting sage. Hagai's grandfather hadn't been nearly so insufferable! Samos seemed to have the idea that he was the main character of some epic tale, somehow.

"Ugh. Thanks for that," sighed Tess. "Usually the old stump's daughter keeps him in line, but she's been busy putting together the fundraiser Reconstruction Race in Main Town. Not easy when you're no longer tall enough to reach your tool bench."

The girl massaged her temples. "Hand to the Oracles, I'm this close to making a rule that Samos can't be in here without a chaperone."

Damas took a seat at the bar and, on a whim, passed a small metalbug gem to her. She took it, smiled softly at the way it reflected the light, and slipped it into a drawer.

"Right, back to business. What can I get ya?"

"Not for me," Damas waved a hand. "Compensation for having to deal with that sort of person. And..."

He looked away.

"And as thanks. For having their backs."

He didn't specify who "they" were, but he didn't have to.

Tess’s face fell a little, and she propped her chin up on her hands. "This whole situation is making everyone act like they've lost their minds," she confessed. "Jak and I have run three different Council Guards out of here at gunpoint already, and I'm pretty sure my apartment is under surveillance."

"Why is there a Council at all? Aren't those Praxis supporters?"

Damas blinked, and suppressed a start upon realizing that Jak had crept out of the booth and was standing at the edge of the bar, scowling. He was only a few feet from Damas now, and Damas kept still. No point startling the boy back into the shadows again.

"Well, according to Torn, we can't just imprison the old regime and start over, or we're the same as Praxis," Tess answered. "Still, you'd think he'd do something to keep you and Mar out of the middle of the power struggles."

Jak scoffed. "You'd think. But this is the guy who sold Mar out when the Baron threatened Ashelin."

Tess went very still, just as Damas stiffened. A coldness flooded the girl's face, and she turned slowly to look at Jak.

"Torn did what?"

Jak gripped the counter edge tightly. "And Samos and Kor. Remember when Dax and me busted you guys out of prison? It was Torn’s fault."

For a long time, Tess didn't say anything. She kept an impressive rein on her facial expression, but Damas could see a wealth of pain in the girl's eyes. Anger, shock, horror and betrayal- all too familiar to the former king of Haven. Then she slumped and closed her eyes.

"After the kinds of things I've seen as a spy, I don't know why I'm still shocked," she said in a shaking voice. Wiping her eyes quickly, she cleared her throat. "Gods, maybe Sig was right, Jak. We should've just left when he offered us the out."

Jak slipped around the bar to lean against her in an awkward attempt at comfort. "We couldn't. We didn't have Mar back yet. Daxter says it's their fault, not ours."

"Yeah." Tess dropped an arm around Jak’s shoulder. "I guess."

"If Dax wasn't attached to this place, I'd say we should just go," Jak suggested. "Grab Mar, grab Chopper, and just go."

With a faint smile, Tess nudged him. "Maybe we can convince him to open a sister location somewhere that wasn't just overrun by metalheads. You know he only likes this building because we "inherited" all of Krew's booze and didn't have to actually buy the supplies."

Up to now, Jak had been giving Sig excuses for staying in the city -- some because he didn't trust Damas yet, others for Daxter's sake. This was the first indication he'd given in Damas’s presence that he wanted to leave Haven. If ever there was a chance to convince the boy to go to Spargus, this was it.

Damas stood and stretched his spine with a grunt.

"Alright then."

"Alright then?" Jak echoed, squinting at him warily.

The king shook out his arms. "Keep an eye on your little brother, will you? I shouldn't be gone more than two hours."

Jak wrinkled his nose and looked vaguely concerned. "Where are you going?"

"To retrieve Daxter," Damas replied. "If you truly wish to leave Haven, the middle of a regime change is a good time to do so. Especially if they're already trying to put you under surveillance."

Abruptly, the guarded look Jak had been wearing since his arrival faded. He looked unsure, suddenly.

"You're...gonna help him?"

Damas flashed a brief smile. "Considering he's been keeping up with you all these years, I'm sure he has the situation in hand. But another blade in the fight never hurts."

"Oh," said Jak quietly. He opened his mouth as if to say something else, then closed it again. He nodded sharply, and took a breath.

"Uh...watch your back out there."

"I will, son." Damas returned the nod. "I suggest locking up until I come back, if the place really is being watched. Don't let anyone in."

"Good plan." Tess let go of Jak and fished a keycard out from under the bar. "I'll lock up and we'll post watch in the stairwell. Jak, you go get Pow-Pow out of my gun safe."

"I don't need the smaller gun!" Jak protested.

"It's for me, doofus!" Tess retorted, "You think I'm letting you or Mar put your grubby hands on my custom baby?"

"Oh. Nevermind." Sheepishly, Jak took the keycard and darted up the stairs.

Tess looked back at Damas. "You're really going to get all of us out?" She folded her arms. "Or just the boys?"

"Sig might shoot me if I leave you behind," Damas joked dryly. "If he offered you a way out, it means he's sponsoring you for citizenship."

Growing serious again, he added, "Call me if anyone tries to get in."

"I'd worry more about Jak getting out."

"Well," Damas sighed, "at least that hasn't changed since he was little.

[fishareglorious]

There is something I find incredibly juicy about Yae realizing that her having a hand with sending Sara to the Kujou Clan has inadvertently made Sara into the person she is today and feeling regret over it, knowing the Kujou’s treatment of Sara. Or even deeper remorse, if you’re exploring the route of the Kujous (especially Takayuki) being neglectful or abusive towards her.

Kagura’s Verity (Yae’s weapon) description:

Sara’s personality profile from the wiki:

Sara’s vision story

There’s different explorations of Yae’s regret, but I think most of it boils down to the lines of this notes in one of the particular fics with this topic:

I think that Yae is a character who does not have many regrets but the ones she does have eat her up like I eat room temperature pizza at 2 am

[touchlikethesun]

what if casifer had pulled a hanz from frozen and messed with dean, being really forward with him and responding more overtly with romantic intent, and then at the moment casifer has broken down the last of dean’s defences (remember dean thinks it’s cas he thinks it’s a dream come true, this has to be a ruse kept up for a while), casifer drops the act and whips out the line, “oh dean, you really thought he could love you?” *cue heartbreak and the main plot resuming*

[constantvariations]

The Branwen bandits make absolutely no sense and every question I ask leads to more questions

Why do Raven and Vernal have advanced weapons while nearly every other member has basic traditional armory? Do they employ a hierarchy within the group? If so, how does one rise in rank? Is the competition brutal, perhaps even lethal?

How are Hunters a significant enough threat that its namesake twins went undercover at Beacon when they clearly steamroll over every obstacle pre-V5? Has Raven's reign made them stronger than her predecessor? How? Who came before Raven and why are they no longer around?

Why would Hunters be after a group of human bandits when their purpose is to fight Grimm? Is stopping man-made tragedy a part of the job because it prevents major Grimm attacks? How far would that authority reach? Would that clash with any local police force?

On a meta level, what do the bandits bring to the narrative? It would've been interesting to see an ideological clash between individualistic "survival of the fittest" and community-oriented "strength of bonds overcome all odds," but we didn't get that. Or we could've gotten some worldbuilding due to their unique nomadic nature outside the kingdoms' safe walls

Instead, the Branwen Bandits serve only a utilitarian purpose: bring Weiss and Yang together and send them to Ruby, house Raven until the finale, and be cannon fodder in a few action scenes

Yet another good idea poorly executed

[arcxnumvitae]

"You have a meeting that you will be attending with Sivel soon, correct?" A shame his own work with the oncoming threat kept him too busy to attend.

"I do. Why?"

"Could you deliver this letter to him for me? I have had scant opportunity to speak with him as of late and I wish for m'eudail to know how much I miss his company, and his touch." Iomhar sighed wistfully.

"Are you...asking me to deliver a romantic letter to your lover during a meeting concerning official and dire matters of our kingdom?"

"Yes! I, of course, will owe you a favor of equal value in repayment."

Sigh.

[reasonably-cool-shiny-hunter]

...okay I think I should probably let myself talk to people again since this is really boring. Uh. Not checking anyone else's blogs yet, though.....

[that-angry-noldo]

me: i want to make an au full of fluff and giggles, a nice break from the stuff i usually write

my brain: so what i'm hearing is you want an au full of angst and tears and gutwrenching feels that you sob over while writing

me:

me: now why would you do this

[lostmykeysie]

keysie drop the wolfstar angst now 🔪🔪

i’m obviously joking take your time but a miserable sirius sustains me and you write him so pathetically devoted to remus it makes me want to chew my fingers off with excitement

put that knife to my throat or you don't get shit!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

no but i feel this on so many levels it is transcendent. miserable crying heartbroken destroyed sirius on his knees gives me such joy such pleasure. remus is his whole entire life he IS pathetic he IS devoted you are RIGHT and it's gonna hurt him SO BAD and i'm gonna LOVE IT SO GOOD

it's coming baby!!!! in a few chapters xxxxx not telling you when but it's soonish xxxx i'm gonna make you wait for it sweets xxxxx

[duoduotian]

ch. 369

[masezace]

1. very little or no romance

2. character-driven plots

3. a healthy dose of sad

4. animals (whether it's about animals, the characters have pets, or they're just mentioned as existing in the background lol)

5. symbolism and foreshadowing

Alright lads, here's one for any and all writers: what are the top five things readers can basically always expect to see in your work?