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regalityandcoffee · 2 years

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Jade Prescott Hey (Ew!) Interview Because...Because.

(Part exercise, part because I'm bored and have too much time on my hands)

RJ: ...are you sure you're comfortable sitting like that?

Jade: (*sitting criss-cross applesauce on the chair next to him, her hands in her lap*) Yes.

RJ: ...alrighty then. (*turns on On Air light*) Hi, my name is RJ City and this is Hey (Ew)! I'm here with my guest Jade Whitney Prescott, former ROH Women's Champion, current member of the scariest clique on the block, Blackpool Combat Club!

Jade: (*shakes her head*)

RJ: Wait whaddaya mean.

Jade: I'm not in the group.

RJ: but- you were at Anarchy at the Arena, and you tag with them and-

Jade: (*shrugs*) it's complicated.

RJ: AH! (*startles Jade*) A segue! It's complicated like your fued with a certain wizard?

[A loud cough cam be heard off set. Jon Moxley is standing behind the cameraman, glaring at the host]

Jade: ...

RJ: (*looks into the camera, then back to Jade *) I sense that's a topic you don't want talk about today?

Jade: (*shrugs*)

RJ: (*coughs*) Anyway, let's talk about music! Your entrance them is "Miss Murder" by AFI? Is that right? Have you ever murdered anyone, Miss Prescott?

Jade: ...no. I almost hit a bullfrog once though but I swerved out of the way.

RJ: that's cool, that's cool. You know, you're a hard woman to get a hold of. Did you know we had to make a whole game plan just to get a hold of you?

Jade: ...Sorry.

RJ: no, no! Don't apologize it's just- (*hands her a list*)

Jade: (*reads it quietly, her eyes go wide*) ...is that why Kris Stadtlander asked me?

RJ: Yes, you have no social media, we don't know your number, and you're impossible to find backstage and when you are you always have a posse of- (*looks behind the camera at Mox, who's motioning him to continue*) uh, Nevermind. Anyway, hows it feel being the first African American ROH woman's champion?

Jade: It's cool.

RJ: You're also the first ROH women's champion form Delaware, that's wild!

Jade: Yeah.

RJ: But it wasn't cool dropping it to Deonna, was it?

Jade: Enh. I like her. She beat me. Fair is fair.

RJ: Where, from the 302 area code are you from, Miss?

Jade: Wilmington.

RJ: You live in Florida now, right? Do you miss it?

Jade: Yeah. I go visit sometimes.

RJ: Where has the better Seafood?

Jade: Delaware.

RJ: Interesting interesting...what's your favorite color Jade?

[Theres a solid 10 seconds of silence, RJ, re-adjusts his mic]

Jade: ...red. (*seems confused*)

RJ: Red like crabs, cool, cool...

RJ: ...you don't like talking much do you?

Jade: Not really. Sorry.

RJ: No, no, it's fine, great, perfect! (*leans in*) You're easier to interview than Hook at least. Yeesh.

Jade: (*looks into the camera, then back to RJ*)

RJ: (*coughs*)

RJ: ...so what's it like being...friends? Friends with the BCC?

RJ: Were you going to go on a tough training session with them? Your workout gear is very nice.

Jade: I like it. They're all really nice.

Jade: (*looks down*) Uh, nah, I came here from training with Keith, actually.

RJ: Ah, Mr. Lee! An old friend! Lovely guy, ain't he?

Jade: (*nods*) He's great.

RJ: What made you become a wrestler, Miss Prescott? You don't look like the wrestling type.

Jade:...what do you mean?

RJ: I don't know you just... you give me cosplayer vibes, like you work out to look buff for cosplays? Do you cosplay Miss Prescott?

Jade: ...not in a while. I did Trunks from DBZ for a con once, and that's about it.

RJ: Interesting!

Jade: Yeah. Uh, but I've been watching since I was a kid. Liked to wrestle with my brother and watch it with my Grandparents.

RJ: are they still with us?

Jade: Grandma's not, she died.

RJ: oh- crap. Sorry.

Jade: It's fine.

RJ: do you think she'd be proud of your career?

Jade: Yeah.

RJ: So you have a brother, that's interesting, is he also in the wrestling sphere?

[The camera pans to Mox, who gives a curt nod]

Jade: No, he does real estate. He used to wrestle in high school but that's it.

RJ: Interresting, Real Estate, Real Interesting.

Jade:... yeah (*fiddles with bracelet*)

RJ: You've been seen biting in your matches, mostly yourself, to not tap? Does that work?

Jade: sometimes.

RJ: what's your favorite edible thing to bite?

Jade: twizzlers.

RJ: what's your favorite inedible thing to bite?

Jade: ....my chew necklace? I guess?

RJ: Jade, would you care to address some rumors circulating about you backstage, at the risk of getting knocked out by your friend in the background?

Jade:...sure?

RJ: Okay. Please don't kill me. Jade Prescott...seems like the type of person who feeds alley cats confirm or deny.

Jade: (*snorts which turns into a giggle*) Yeah, confirmed.

RJ: Jade Prescott...Looks like she's good at long division.

Jade: (*holding back laughs*)Yeah.

RJ: Jade would fight anyone with her bare hands but can't watch scary movies.

Jade: (*nods, the laughter dies down*)

RJ: Wait, really?

Jade: (*nods*)

Jade: Nah, I kinda miss Pushing Up Daises though.

RJ: ...huh. (* scribbles something out on paper*) is it jumpscares?

Jade: yeah. I don't like them.

RJ: Mood! (*yells at someone off screen*) I TOLD YOU IT WASNT JUST ME M- STOP LAUGHING! (*coughs*) Jade looks like she's still pissed Firefly got canceled.

RJ: Good taste, good taste... Jade looks like her favorite Three's Company character is Janet.

RJ: Ja-

Jade: Janet or Terri.

Jade: HEY EW! (*startles RJ*) Hey, ew! Sorry, sorry, I just got the title now, sorry!

[Loud wheezing is heard behind the camera, Mox is doubled over with laughter]

Jade: (*looks away, fighting back a laugh*)

RJ: (*regains his composure, trying not to laugh*) It's alright! You look like... you listen to every genre of music except country.

Jade: No, I like country.

RJ: what's your favorite genre, if you have one?

Jade: Post-punk or synth-pop.

RJ: Fascinating! Where do you stand on the New Order vs. Joy Division debate?

Jade:... they're both good but I like New Order a little more.

RJ: One last question, and them well let you go for a post workout nap! (*leans in*) ...

Jade: (*looks around, leans in too, confused*)

Mox: No.

RJ: what's your McDonalds order?

Jade: Chicken nuggets, fries and a Hi-C.

RJ: Riveting! Riveting!!! Well, that's our, show, I'd like to thank our guest Miss Jade Whitney Prescott, and her special colleague Mr. Mox, for joining us today. Mr. Mox, I can expect for you to be on our show soon, right?

RJ: Please?

Mox: No.

[Screen cuts to black, end of video]

RJ: ...please?

Mox:...

#jade prescott au #this made no fucking sense but enh

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spiralhigh · 3 years

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ranking the sdr2 cast by how much their formal wear hits

this is just my opinion, but my opinions are great and i know what i’m talking about! this will be long so it’s under a cut

S TIER:

s tier is reserved for only the best of them all, the cream of the crop, the fit that i would gladly lay down my life for. s tier is the crown jewel. s tier is what everyone else should strive to be... but only one can take the prize.

#1: AKANE OWARI

the undisputed champion. this look is everything to me. EVERYTHING. the red-trim cape with the fur. the contrast of the airy, gathered blouse with those skin-tight shiny (leather? vinyl??) pants. the pumps. the belt that screams disco style. the necklace accentuating the tasteful titty window. the red white and gold color scheme are you FUCKING WITH ME miss owari this look could bring ARMIES to their KNEES in an INSTANT. whoever drew this deserves full creative control of the danganronpa franchise and i’m not kidding

A TIER:

a tier is for the fits that frankly own bones. they’re not as jaw-dropping and legendary as owari, but they’re still razor as hell and deserve to be met with riotous applause.

#2: KAZUICHI SOUDA

kazuichi, i didn’t know you had it in you, but this FUCKS. the character of the pins on the lapels, the sneakers, and the mispinned tie. the absolute CLASS of the suspenders, watch, and tiny round glasses. the handsome slick in the hair now that the greasy beanie is gone. the tasteful highwater. he looks like the host of the larry king show if the larry king show was exclusively about ska bands and he has never looked better

#3: HIYOKO SAIONJI

tell me this isn’t the cutest shit. the colors here are EXQUISITE. the bright notes from the blue on top, the way the soft pink is a perfect middle ground of the pink + white flowers on her sleeves, the subtle way the green in her bow matches the green in her collar, the white petals breaking up the sky blue that might otherwise look out of place? remarkable. stunning.

#4: PEKO PEKOYAMA

the ELEGANCE is EVERYTHING here. the monochrome is offset by just a splash of red that ties everything together with her eyes and the flower in her hair, the checkerboard pattern is visually interesting but not distracting, and her hair in that loose ponytail with the little white ribbon? ugh. ADORABLE! but most of all, look at those BOOTS. those CUTE LITTLE HEELS on those SICK LACE-UP BOOTS..... QUEEN shit!!!

#5: CHIAKI NANAMI

rounding out our a tier is chiaki in this adorable little dress just LOOK at her!!! she looks like a little rose, a perfect flouncy skirt with a glittery mesh overlay, a fun and fresh over-the-shoulder collar, a fucking big old bow tied in the back?? i can literally feel the way this dress would feel in my hands. it’s simple and perfect and frankly a GORGEOUS color on her this is flawless

B TIER:

b tier is a perfectly respectable place to be. these fits lack the lustre and flavor of the a tier entries, but they’re still dressed to impress and they still look fine as hell.

#6: TERUTERU HANAMURA

say what you will about teruteru (and i do) but this suit is ADORABLE and it fits in with his theme + talent better than any other mfer on this list. the tasteful white/brown/red palette gives it a flashy chocolate cookie look, which is amplified in the fun pattern on the jacket. the chef’s hat switching out for a little top hat and the way the cumberbund looks a lil bit like a chocolate bar is also VERY cute

#7: THE IMPOSTOR

now on its own, the suit is just alright. a vibrant pinstripe blue three-piece with the classic red tie wouldn’t land the impostor in b tier on its own... but that FUR COAT, LUXURIOUSLY DRAPED OVER THE SHOULDERS does WONDERS to pull this look together. not only is it worn with “yeah, it’s real mink, no, you can’t touch it” confidence, but it also ties the otherwise arbitrary white loafers into the structure of the look. it’s subtle and class as hell.

C TIER

c tier is full of looks that are... fine, but ultimately either are boring, lack cohesion, or have a confusing design choice or two that make it hard to get all that amped about. c tier is a passing grade, but nothing more.

#8: NAGITO KOMAEDA

there’s a lot that’s good about this outfit, but there’s also a lot that doesn’t really work. let’s start with the good: the slutty loose bowtie and collar, the tight-fitting vest that ends before the hipbones so you can see the belt, the cute little ponytail? (chefs kiss) exquisite, all of it. but the suit itself is boring as sing, and who the hell decided to put the t-shirt symbol on the sleeves??? was it to add visual flavor to an otherwise bland suit? this does NOT have the black/white/red elegance that peko had.

#9: FUYUHIKO KUZURYUU

the silver and gold mob-boss look, complete with matching shoes vest and fedora, are a nice nod to fuyuhiko’s talent! the plaid is teetering on the edge between fun and garish to me, but the fact that it’s consistent and the only pattern means it isn’t too offensive. quick question though: why are his pant legs rolled up like that?? this isn’t a cute “cuffed at the ankle” look, dude looks like he had to wade across a pond to get to the venue. what gives

#10: GUNDAM TANAKA

out of everyone here, gundam’s suit might be the most boring of all. the scarf is just his normal scarf. the red tie and trim don’t do anything to tie the look together. the only mild point of interest is the asymmetrical vest, and i can’t even tell if that’s intentional. simply put, this “““fancy”““ outfit isn’t even in the same ZIP CODE as the level of ostentatious chuuni that gundam serves us every single day in his casual wear. maybe even worse than being ugly... it’s disappointing.

#11: IBUKI MIODA

now, look. is this dress buckwild and ugly as hell? yes. but you know what else it is? it is IBUKI MIODA’S DRESS. there might not be a single cohesive thing about this dress aside from its color scheme. the huge poofy ruffles of the skirt and arm things with the spiked bow and corset are baffling. the artist somehow managed to draw the awkward, clumping shape of the skirt to make it look exactly like an emergency cosplay sewn four hours before a convention. frankly, i can’t justify ranking it as a c! but i’m doing it anyway, because the sheer level of craftsmanship demands it, and in this house we respect diy queens that are totally off the shits.

D TIER:

d tier is for outfits that aren’t offensive, exactly... but like, they sure don’t look good! d tier is not a respectable place to be. those in d tier won’t be laughed out of the ceremony in shame, but they should really run their outfit by someone else first next time.

#12: NEKOMARU NIDAI

now don’t get me wrong: i have nothing but respect for the titties-out look. keeping the shirt unbuttoned all the way down to where the lapels of the jacket end? that’s sexy as hell. however, this flawless idea has a confusing execution. why emerald green and orange? what’s with the... long-sleeved printed (hawaiian?) shirt? why the red pocket square? and the jacket itself, while fitted perfectly along the chest and midsection, has a weird, unflattering scallop shape flaring out at the bottom. i want to like this fit, but there are just too many bad choices.

#13: HAJIME HINATA

oh, hajime... literally nothing about this ensemble is it. the creamy manila suit might have had potential if there were literally any color variation in the vest (or potentially shoes) to give it a little more shape, or even if you just went with a white shirt underneath it! i could get behind a light, off-monochrome look! but that leprechaun-green shirt is downright perplexing to me. it looks like a mistake! did you get dressed in the dark? did you spill something on your other shirt? this is a mess.

F TIER:

f tier is inexcusable. f tier should never have happened. how does it get this bad. who did this? who’s responsible for this?

#14: SONIA NEVERMIND

y’know, the colors are pretty! i dig the white and teal! but... girl... what the fuck is this construction. the ruffles are all over the place. the bodice looks like it has less fabric than space it needs to cover. the bottom half of the skirt looks like it was sewn on as an afterthought because the top half was too short for dress code. what’s with the weird choker collar detached from everything else. why is the hairband a slightly different shade of green. so many decisions were made here and none of them are flattering

#15: MAHIRU KOIZUMI

yknow, i like the idea behind this. i can see what you were going for! the dress on its own might have worked, even! but everything else about it is just... so ugly. what the fuck is happening with those shoes??? the sheer black tights aren’t the sexy OL look you think they are. the collar of the dress looks like it’s... braided for some reason??? those earrings are so huge for no payoff, statement jewelry with nothing to say, and worst of all... that headband. GIRL. that headband and that belt...... there’s nothing here. also i love orange but it’s not her color.

and finally... the worst.

#16: MIKAN TSUMIKI

what the fuck. what the fuck is this. this is straight up cheap rubber fetish gear. why is the HAT rubber? that skirt ruffle makes this look like fucking polly pocket clothes. why the fuck is she wearing that. the clothes are so bad that it makes her hair look like rubber too. was she dared to wear this? is this some cruel punishment? i don’t even know what to say. this is the worst possible outfit. there is not even one redeeming quality about it.

#danganronpa #sdr2 #new tab

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greekbros · 3 years

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"greek-Bros: Phallic Judgement"

*Surprisingly, Dionysus had gone back to Rome to cause more mischief with Hermes, this time they've brought Ares along*

Dionysus: *again disguised as a wine seller* ok gentlemen, behold. The foulest creatures to crawl on the face of the earth. *Shows just random Roman citizens*

Ares: *who for some reason decided he wanted to disguise himself as the world's most intimidating slave* ......ugh....the goats? *Sees a goat*

Hermes: *cleverly disgusted as farmer* haha no. You see, these guys are absolutely weird. They insist of "rationing" Sapa, they have taxes for literally existing and above all.....their wine is watered down! But they have the best bread I've ever tasted though.

Ares: ... really?

Dionysus: don't be fooled by their baked goods my dudes. These are cruel and unrelenting scum folk. Uncultured, ignorant, and above all....they've inslaved every single country they've conquered.

Hermes: .....it's mostly about the wine isn't it?

Dionysus: ....*turns dramatically* their most unforgiving sin.

Ares: *has wondered off to see a statue of himself*.....my dick isn't THAT small.......*looks at the name plate saying "Mars"* ......I can't believe these guys misspelled my name....*takes some charcoal, scratches out Mars and writes Ares*

Centurion Gaurd: Excuse me slave! Where is your master! Slaves are not allowed near the devine statue of the gods.*sees that Ares has wrote his name on the statue's nameplate* What the?

Ares: *doesn't know the centurion was referring to him considering he's in disguise* .........*turns to the see the back of the statue* ....at least they got the ass right.

Centurion Gaurd: EXCUSE ME! Please stop making remarks about the sacred statue! You've defaced sacred property!

Ares: *slowly peaks over to the centurion* ....hey ugh there's a thing on your helmet*

Centurion Gaurd: oh really? *Pats around his helmet* where?

Ares: *points to the centurion's face* There's a shit attitude a little all over your FuCkInG ugly mug.

Centurion Gaurd: *realising what he meant* YOU'RE UNDER ARREST!

Dionysus: *walks into the situation* Oh there you are Skippy! Bad boy I thought I told you to stay close to me and not open your mouth! *takes a little stick and weakly whips Ares's shoulder with a single thing of wheat*

Ares: *confused* ...wut?

Centurion Gaurd: Is there YOUR disrespectful slave?

Ares: wait you said I was going to be a noblem-*gets a loaf of bread in his mouth by Hermes*

Hermes: please shut up or we'll leave you here to fend for yourself.

Ares: *kinda just enjoying the bread* hmfhmf.

Dionysus: You see my good sir, my slave is extremely stupid, dumb and has testicles the size of grapeseeds. He was used as a human kickball when he was an infant and was raised by goats. He can't help himself sometimes. *Tries to clean the charcoal off the statue*

Ares: *angry noises* ?!?

Centurion Gaurd: .....Ok...you have the pay the "Disrespectful Slave" tax fine.

Dionysus: .....*grumbles and takes a bag filled with gold coins* ....*gives it begrudgingly* .....*grits his teeth* have....a...good day.

Centurion Gaurd: *takes the gold and sees that it's drachma* .....hmm.....*takes out a piece of paper with a semi-crude wanted poster of Dionysus, Apollo and Hermes* ......hmm.....I watching you....sir. *leaves to find Mortus*

Dionysus: *turns to Ares and glares at him* ....you owe me 20 drachma.

Ares: *has finished eat the bread* Why? Don't these mortals know we're gods?

Dionysus: No! We're here in disguise so that was can destroy the city again. You are here to make sure the country doesn't get a chance to get back up.

Ares: Fuck yah. *Literally has no idea what he agreed to*

Hermes: *saw the wanted poster in the centurion's hand* ugh...guys we REALLY need to finish what we came here for because they're definitely on to us.

Dionysus: yeah yeah I know....come on let's go. I want to destroy the coliseum again.

Ares: what's a coliseum?

Dionysus: *suddenly a huge grin forms across his face* Hermes .....is the coliseum....open?

Hermes: let me check. *Literally speeds next to the coliseum and saw a Roman sign that says "Grand Re-Opening" and zips back to Dionysus* yeah. It's open.

Dionysus: perfect. *Pops a waterskin filled with wine, and chugs it* oh gods I'm FuCkInG dry. It's like this place sucks your very essence or something.

Hermes: hmm....yeah, shame really. *as he was following Dionysus and Ares, he accidentally dumbs into a familiar face* oops sorry miss.

Octavia: *turns around with a baby in her arms that looks suspiciously familiar* Oh pardon me sir. I didn't mean to bump into, the market seems rather busy today doesn't it?

Hermes: It's ok, I was just heading to-*knotices the baby* .....ugh...

Caius the baby: *smiles at Hermes as if he knew Hermes was his dad* ba-ba :D

Octavia: Oh sweetie, daddy is working. Oh children are so wonderous, even at a few months old, they have such an imagination. By the way, have we met before? You look so familiar....are you from the countryside?

Hermes: uuggggh *trying his best to not look Octavia in the eye* yeah, I get that all the time. Trust me I have some of my own, I mean children that is. Also no I don't think I have? *Literally hoping she doesn't recognize him even though he shape shifted into her husband a year ago*

Caius: *still happily cooing over his real dad*

Dionysus: come on buddy le-*put two and two together and scowls at Hermes* ......you didn't.

Hermes: ugh....

Dionysus: nevermind we're off! *He pulls Hermes to the direction of the coliseum*

Octavia: hmmm what a strange young man. He's handsome though.

Caius: *coos in disappointment* :(

*later*

Dionysus: *rubs his hands* hehehehehe....

Hermes: this better be worth it. I thought we would write our names on the temple walls here or something.

A Roman Announcer: Ladies and Gentlemen! This grand reopening of the Coliseum shall be in honor of our Lord and Emperor Caeser!

Caeser: *does the Royal British wave*

Dionysus: peeeeerfect.

Hermes: ......hey I got to ask...why did you bring Ares?

Dionysus: some bulky bastard is currently the head champion gladiator here, he use to live on Crete before the Romans decided to kidnap a few warriors there....let's just say my pettiness will come with effort.

Hermes: ......ok seriously man what are talking about?

Dionysus: look no one says that their dick is bigger than mine and actually gets away with it.

Hermes: ....you know....you could just smite someone. I mean it's not graceful....but it's effective.

Dionysus: hoho, I'm going to make this extra dramatic.

The Roman Announcer: And now! You're great champion, Maximus the Well-Endowed!

Maximus: *a huge, hulking man came out, roars out* HAIL CAESAR! *Leans to the announcer* I am going to get my 20 hot virgin women after this right?

Announcer: *whispers* yes yes. AND HIS CHALLENGER *looks at a note which was scribbled on his hand* ..... "Skippy the Not-Well-Endowed"! *Looks back his hand still not believing what he had read*

Ares: *is just happy to get into a fight, however was oddly enough only was only wearing a loin cloth and a helmet, armed with a shield and spear* ......oh boy, a whole stadium just for killing? These people rock!

Hermes: ........you didn't....

Dionysus: yep.

Ares: *steps side to side like an exited kid* comeoncomeoncomeonstartthefighting.

Maximus: Alright Skippy, time to end your tiny dicked existence. *Raised his sword on to Ares but Ares was able to break it with his helmet* !?

Ares: ....that's it?

Maximum: *confused* ugh....*waves to order in more weapons, all of which fail to hurt Ares*

Ares: .......aw come on...you guys have some shitty ass weapons. Bet YOUR weapon is just as shit.

Maximus: grrrrr.....YOU PUNY SLAVE! *Rips off his armored skirt* See! You're fucking wrong!

Roman crowd: *gasps*

Dionysus: .....

Hermes: *whistles* holyshit....dude this guy is hung.

Dionysus: If there's one god who can contest me....the only god who's dick is so epic, so powerful, so irresistible, so near perfect......that Aphrodite can't FuCkInG resist it on a daily basis.

Hermes: Heracles?

Dionysus: No buddy, Ares. Ares is the guy who's dick is better than mine I mean come on a guy who shags the goddess of love more times than any living thing HAS to have something going on down there

Some Roman Karen: EXCUSE me is pronounced Venus! We don't use greek words here.

Dionysus: Please leave me alone lady.

Some Roman Karen: *rhees in anger*

Dionysus and Hermes: *both are struggling to ignore her*

Ares: ....ok...that dick of your isn't that great.....*rips off his loin cloth* .....THIS....is a dick.

Crowd: *the women and gay men swoons over the perfect of Ares's bare body, men quake and cringe at their own feeble members and put to shame*

Caesar: *completely unimpressed and decided to leave* hmf. Pathetic.

Maximus: *wriggles in shame* HOW c-C-C-could this be?! The most PERFECT COCK? Oh my gods why is it fucking glowing?!

Ares: ....what you don't shave yourself weekly? I mean come on man that's how you keep the ladies coming back?

Maximus: *starts crying a little*

Dionysus: *cackling uncontrollably* SO THATS HIS SECRET! *writes on a piece of paper saying "shave, dick, weekly"*

Hermes: *still not fully understanding why all of this* ........you brought Ares here JUST to emasculate some gladiator?

Dionysus: Oh much more than that Herms.....much much m-

Roman Karen: EXCUSE YOU SIR ITS MERCURY!

Dionysus: *has had enough and turned her into a chicken* there much better.

Hermes: .....are you ok? Did you have your wine today?

Dionysus: I RAN OUT OF WINE LONG AGO!

Hermes: *deep sigh* not again.

Ares: *now in full naked display* ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED?!? *The crowd roared and cheered*

Dionysus: well....yah want to set the animals free from their cages?

Hermes: fuk ye-*feels a tough and strong hand practically crushing his shoulder* .....*turns to see an old man who clearly was Zeus* .....

Zeus: .....boys.....

Dionysus and Hermes: .....Uh Oh.

Zeus: *took each of them by their ears like a discontented mother* you're BOTH grounded for bothering these mortals and above all abusing the dark, unholy power of the sacred male member ....if I had a third arm it would be reserved for Ares. *Looks down at Ares now just doing some naked dance for the crowd*........*deep and disappointed sigh*

Dionysus: but dad, I do that like everyday.

Zeus: I don't care if I don't discipline you or Hermes right the now, Hera will have MY male member nailed to the wall.

(Later that day)

Mortus: *inner noir detective monologue* after several months, nothing. Absolutely nothing. The suspects disappeared from the face of the empire. Likely their crimes have caught up with them. My only consolation to solving this case....is the mysterious birth of my son and my faithful wife. .... speaking of which...why does Caius have blue eyes? Me and Octavia have brown.....did ...she?....nah that's impossible.

The Centurion from earlier: MY LORD! I FOUND THE SUSPECTS!

Mortus: *dramatically turns around* This better be the right ones this time.

*much later after apparently an orgy broke out at the coliseum*

Mortus: .... Absolutely disgusting. Practicing Sexual Festivities without a license is punishable by crucifixion, Mark.

The Announcer (Mark): B-b-but sir! It wasn't my fault! Some slave was to challenge Maximus and they just decided to remove their clothing and everyone went wild! ....to be fair the slave did look a little attractive BUT the fornicating ceased once the slave disappeared.

Mortus:....was he accompanied by a portly, dark haired ..... individual?......an extremely attractive blonde slave and a thinner more athletic young man with brown hair?

The Announcer: ...hmm...well yes minus the other slave.

Mortus: Hmmm.....the plot thickens.....are these the mysterious criminals that destroyed the coliseum last year?....What is the motivated behind these depraved individuals?.....

The Announcer: ugh...why are you talking to yourself?

#greek bros #greek-Bros #Mortus #roman vs greek jokes #greek gods #dionysus #hermes #Ares #Zeus #greek mythology

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red-catmander · 3 years

Text

Thoughts on Guild Wars 2: Icebrood Saga: Champions: The Book: The Movie: The DVD Game: The HBO Adaptation

very scattered, only just finished this, forgive the shotgun blast below

ryland steelcatcher, not content with just leading an army, is SO driven by his urge to be The Most Special Boy In The Whole Wide World that he’s going to freeze everyone, thaw them out down the line and REIGN AS FUCKING GOD-KING????

owl’s back! huzz-- oop nevermind

lots of spicy braham moments

“you entitled bastard!” go OFF king get him

loving the new norn! always happy to see some nb rep

rytlock, logan and crecia hanging out by the lake. straight chillin.

“Why does nobody specialize anymore? >:(” brimstone i’d die for you

you know if he wore a condom one time thousands of people would still be alive right. food for thought

jormag’s finally off the fucking shits

aurene... enjoys talking to them... whuh-oh...

lots of charr/ebonhawke political intrigue

crecia for khan-ur is being pushed SUPER hard now

braham better be going full-throttle on the primordy champ. he better get a cool outfit out of this. i say this for selfish fire-outfit reasons

are the asura... gonna... pump jormag full of juice so they can duke it out with primordus...

absolutely missed a few things but MAN with that all out it feels very cohesive! super satisfying, the parts at the end was payoff after payoff

#guild wars 2 #gw2 #braham eirsson #rytlock brimstone #crecia stoneglow #logan thackeray #ryland steelcatcher #icebrood saga spoilers #GOD yes arenanet thank you for my life #sip sip sip

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elejahfanfic · 3 years

Text

Fanfiction

And so it is Christmas

Part 5

Elijah Mikaelson x reader

ft. Klaroline, Kennett

AU story_human_no vampires

a/n:There will be great mad Mikaelson chaos and lots of love… i.e. Elijah falling for Y/N…cookie baking, etc.

well, actually_absolute christmas fluff… ho-ho-ho

_also this just blew into such a long ch again_ thanks for reading. xoxo

🎅

In the Mikaelson Mansion

Esther looked at the happy bunch mucking around in the kitchen. She loved the holiday season. It always brought a strange kind of warmth to the house.

"Everyone is very high spirited" the butler said,"this idea to have them participate in making the buiscuits was marvellous"

"Wasn't it just" Esther said, now looking at Klaus and Caroline cutely talking to one another, him complimenting the blonde on her artistic streak.

"I find it quite unusual that Elijah left Caroline behind and went out with Kol" Esther remarked.

"There have been developments" the butler said.

"What do you mean?" Esther now looked at the man with puzzled eyes.

"Master Elijah and Ms Forbes are no longer together. Prior to Miss Rebekah's trip to New York, they put an end to their relationship. Not that it was any serious relationship as such."

Esther raised an inquisitive eye-brow at the butler, and told him to follow her to the drawing room to speak more privately.

The butler has always been the source of gossip and knew all that was going on, as Rebekah could not keep anything to herself. He now told the Mistress of the house all about Elijah falling for Dr Y/L/N/

Now, Esther, having found out the latest going ons said, "Well, that explains Elijah's great interest in the Fundraiser. But isn't Dr Y/L/N seeing Klaus?"

"No. I found out from Master Kol that Dr Y/L/N and Master Klaus - just hooked up once- these are his exact words."

"I understood that there was more. He frequently is seen going to the Y/L/N Lake house." Esther said.

"Ahm, I have that information, too." the butler said.

"We have to find out what exactly is going on. I do not wish any of my sons to get hurt. It is not the first time they get entagled with a woman. Remember how things went with Rayna Cruz."

"Yes, I do." Jefferson recalled the stress that went off the brother's back in New Orleans, when they both had a crash on the beautiful blonde.

"She left them both heartbroken," Esther said, "and that fight - over her. I didn't want this to happen again."

"It will not. They are way more mature now, and Master Klaus is now much calmer."

"Yes. But still - a woman can stir up things- no matter what age a man is"

"Dr Y/L/N doesn't appear to be a woman that would string two men along." the butler said.

"No. I think I will still have a word with her."

"Is this wise, Ma'am?"

Esther sighed. "Not really, but I cannot have a repetition of what we had years ago. And it being the reason Elijah moved to New York. It broke my heart having him so far away."

"But they have made up and they have been so very supportive of each other. Master Klaus met Aurora and - all was forgotten."

"Yes," Esther said and now took a deep breath looking at the faithful butler, "I have heard that Rayna had a child."

Jefferson looked at the woman a tad bit stunned. It seemed he didn't know all.

"What are you suggesting, Ma'am?

"That maybe - there somewhere Elijah might have a son." Esther now said.

"Oh! Are you sure?"

"No. By the time I got this probable news - Rayna left New Orleans to - god knows where"

"But - if the child was Master Elijah's, I am sure she would come to you and said something. Ask for money. She was daring enough"

“True.” Esther said. “I wish he finds someone he can start a family with and be happy.”

“Maybe Christmas will work its magic this year.” Jefferson said.

“Well, let’s hope so.” Esther curled up a little smile.

🎅🎄

Elsewhere- the Y/L/N House

"Because of you" Elijah said looking at Y/N in a very sincere manner.

"Me?" Y/N looked back at the man wide-eyed.

She was not expecting this answer. Or maybe she did.

"Yes. And I know that we hardly know each other- and I - this is now going to come out wrong - but ever since that evening volunteering in the shelter - I can't stop thinking about you" Elijah said, twisting the truth a bit, as in fact, he could not stop thinking about her since he saw her at the boutique.

"Oh" Y/N let out followed by a gulp. For some strange reasin she froze, though she wanted to say that she also had him on her mind eversince she saw him at the boutique.

As there was no other response coming from Y/N, Elijah, slipping ‘Right’ and got up, "Ahm- I better go"

Y/N now got up as well, and for an unexplained reason said, "Ok"

Like a lost soul, Elijah looked for his coat jacket. Having found it in the living room, he took it and put it on, thanking Y/N in the process for the pie.

Y/N nodded a little saying, "You're welcome"

Elijah nodded back, everything inside of him very jumbled up he turned and walked to the door.

"Wait" Y/N suddenly said.

🎅

Meanwhile, at the Mystic Falls Ice Rink

"Hey" Klaus greeted Kol, who had just arrived at the Ice rink with Bonnie, "Elijah is not answering his phone."

"He is still busy making pies" Kol replied, "where are the others?"

"Bex and Stefan have this dinner thing with his uncle, and Hope went with Caroline to get some ice-skates cuz she doesn't have any - here" Klaus explained now looking at Bonnie, "isn't it time you introduced your girfriend"

"Yeah" Kol said somewhat confused, "this my other older brother - Klaus - the nuisance"

Bonnie now extended her hand to Klaus saying,"Hello. It's weird that we never met and you are at the School board and Hope is attending my chemistry class this year."

"I meant to come to see you regarding Hope. She is telling me that you chose her for the State Chemistry Olympiad? She is Middle School- is she that good? "

"Yes. She is very talented. Quite an over-achiever." Bonnie said.

"I don't know where she gets it from" Kol now said with a teasing smirk.

Klaus would now hrow something clever back at his brother, but Hope and Caroline now joinrd them. More greetings and more introduction followed. Soon they all got inside the rink.

Kol showed off his ice-skating skills to Bonnie, who was pretty impressed. Bonnie was not skating since college and felt pretty rusty.

"How come you are so good at this?" Bonnie wondered.

"Well I lived here for five years now. I also played for Mystic High Hockey team. We moved here five years ago."

"Wow." Bonnie said, "I must say I amazed."

"I also had a band." Kol said.

"What else don't I know?" Bonnie asked.

"I was bad in chemistry." Kol said cutely.

"Ah, nevermind. I still like you." Bonnie now kissed her man.

Not far from them, Caroline skated up to Klaus, who actually just stood at rink's fence, totally lost in Caroline exhibiting her figure skating skills.

As she now came up to him, he was all stars in his eyes at her-

"Tell me why are you a lawyer?"

"Ah, because - my dad thought it would have been a more solid career"

"You are serious?"

"I was the US. Collegiate Figure skating champion." Caroline said.

"Really?"

"Yes. But, this is where I started. This is where my mom brought me to skate when I was five years old - and" Caroline now inhaled deeply, her eyes watering.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Klaus now said concerned.

"Nothing. Just great memories. I didn't think I would be back here or skate here ever again."

"You lived here? When?"

"Till my mom died. And then I went to live with my dad in New York." Caroline replied, "Thanks for - this was a great idea. And - sorry if me coming down made things awkward- now that Elijah and I - broke up."

"Our family does awkward well. So you are all right." Klaus said.

"I don't know. Even though Elijah and I said we would be friends - I feel like I am intruding."

"I am for one am glad you are intruding - I mean- ahm- you are not intruding at all. You saved me from getting the whole cookie baking and you did such great job helping Hope, and Rebekah for that matter. You should yake credit for all the baking that was done today. I can only imagine what it would be like if you didn't step in."

"I guess, your cook would have to do it all."

"Yes, and we would never stop hearing mother tell us that we could have done better." Klaus said.

"I doubt that. She is lovely." Caroline said.

"Yes, mother is the best."

"I miss my mom so much." Caroline now said.

"I am sorry." Klaus now said with great empathy in his voice.

The song that now came on made Caroline take Klaus suddenly by the hands and said, "You are skating now"

"What? No, no, no. I am not like Kol."

"It is not that hard. I got you. You will be fine." Caroline reassured Klaus, who, strangely let himself go.

✨

At Y/L/N House

"Wait!" Y/N said again and shot over to Elijah, and wihtout hesitation drew his lips to hers, like catching a dream that was about to disappear. She made their lips, mouth, tongue flow in the beautiful rhythm of what their heartbeats played, like tiny bells echoing like the shooting stars up in the skies. Easing out of it, heads leaning on one another now, both trying to gain some breath back, they stood silent for a moment, her thumbs lightly streaming up and down the side of the neck, while his hands got lost in the tangle of her her, dropping on her shoulders. If he spoke, he thought, this sweet enchantment would be broken. And yet, the first word shimmered out, "Y/N”

"Elijah" Y/N smiled a little, her cheeks feeling flush, "I don't know - what's happening - I mean- I know - but I never thought that - it all came out of nowhere"

"It has - and I - I just couldn't keep it to myself anymore. I tried not to feel - because I was with someone else- and you"

"Because I was with your brother" Y/N took a deep breath, "this never happened to me - I am not someone who goes from one guy to the next - let alone brothers- and has crazy drunken one night stand"

"Please - I didn't mean to upset you"

"You didn't upset me - I am - just such a hot mess - if you know what I mean" Y/N said raising her look at him, "I also coudn't stop thinking about you"

Elijah lips curled a happy smile up now, the corner of his eyes catching the mistletoe hanging right over them. Y/N looked up as well. They were standing right under the lush evergreen beaming down at them.

With their eyes now dropping on one another again, Elijah gently pulled her to him into a sweet, deep, long kiss.

_to be continued🎄🎅🤶

#elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikealson #the originals christmas #klaroline #kennett #klaus mikaelson #kol mikaelson #fanfiction writing

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modestlyabsurd · 4 years

Text

No Cinderella (Loki x Reader)

"What is taking so long?"

Oh, jee, who knows? Maybe it's all the straps? Or it could be the lack of fabric at all. Where is your head supposed to go? How is anything supposed to be covered with just glittery straps of black and gold silk?!

Your reflection looks back as every decision you've ever made comes full circle; naked in nothing but this tight, skimpy outfit. Everything is showing - everything. Your belly is exposed in a flattering but very uncomfortable way, as the strappy piece that's supposed to be the top covers very little. The bottom piece is least horrible part - with little green gems dangling from ribbons to accentuate your thighs and backside rather nicely.

But who the fuck wants their ass on display in a formal meeting with the ruler of the planet you're trapped on? Who wants that at all?!

"Earth to Y/N, please respond - we're wasting precious time," Loki complains from outside the bathroom door.

Frustrated and defeated, you sigh. "I can't wear this."

"What do you mean you can't wear it? What's wrong with it?"

"It's ridiculous! I look like a cheap French whore."

"Surely you're overreacting - "

You hear the knob turning behind you and throw yourself on the door, "No! Don't come in here - I might as well be naked!"

Loki skips a beat, and can't help the smirk on his face. "It can't be that bad."

"Believe me, it is."

He looks around the room, bouncing on the balls of his feet anxiously. The Grandmaster had invited you both to a celebration party in regards to another win from his fighting champion. Loki was quite pleased with the progress he's made with the Grandmaster in gaining his trust, despite the many wrenches you've thrown into the game. If it's not needing the functions of a Midgardian washroom, it's wasting complimentary room service. If it's not that, it's refusing to wear the clothes that the Grandmaster has had crafted and sent especially for you.

It's like you're trying to get you both killed.

"Look, at any rate, you can't keep rejecting the Grandmaster's kind gestures," says Loki.

You've already taken half of the garment off with a few straps still awkwardly looped around your shoulders. "I'm not gonna wear this thing. He'll just have to deal with it."

Loki's fists and jaws clench angrily. "You're going to make me look like a fool with your blatant rebellion," he bites. "And what then?"

"I could stay here and say I'm sick," you suggest.

He scoffs, "No, you can't." You both knew better. Loki crosses his arms, trying to think of an alternative. He won't risk leaving you alone, and either of you missing the celebration could be his downfall - your downfall.

The blue jewel doorknob twists and only your head peeks through. "I'm tougher than I look, y'know."

Loki raises his brows, "Oh, I'm sure. You probably don't even need me here to protect you. Likely don't need me at all."

"I didn't say that."

He turns to look into your eyes and finds you devoid of lies or sarcasm. He can't hold your gaze for too long; he doesn't have time to feel remorse right now.

"I'm sorry, Loki. But believe me when I tell you, no one wants to see what I just saw. Not even the Douchemaster," you cringe, knowing he himself sent that garb to you. Loki? He gets to wear something stylish and concealing. Yet you have to dress like a Vegas showgirl. How is that fair?

As if he's reading your mind - which he's not - Loki detects a pattern. A disgusting, possibly dangerous pattern. He stiffens. You're already vulnerable to a certain degree; it seems as though the Grandmaster would like to highlight that in a certain way.

"You got any ideas?" your voice peeps from the bathroom. Of course. He must fix everything as well. Luckily, an idea does come to mind.

Loki remembers the clothes you wore weeks ago when this ... mishap, first began; a simple tee shirt, a cardigan and blue jeans. As Midgardian as it gets. It would be a giant, bright red target on your forehead at an event such as this, where guests are expected to be formal, or at least culturally formal.

He then thinks of the formal category of fashion in Midgardian culture - something that he's actually developed quite a taste for over the years. The class and elegance it exerts is surprising, and could be substantial among the diverse range of attires to be seen tonight. He can conjure any version, any piece, any outfit imaginable at the tip of his fingers. It's been helpful even in the recent past.

"You've no idea how lucky you are."

"What?"

He huffs. "Nevermind. Are you ... decent, as you put it?"

You pull the red Sakaarian robe closer to your body. "Yeah."

Loki opens the door and your eyes widen, as your jaw drops simultaneously. In one hand hangs a beautiful, simple, slightly frilly knee-length teal dress. One of those you see displayed in the windows of bridal stores with four-figure prices. In the other hand was a dark red, floor-length ballroom dress, one likely displayed inside the bridal store with possibly with an even larger price. Both were approximately your size.

"Wow," you breathe, tongue feeling dry. "How did you ... where did they come from?"

Loki grins at your amazement. "A small bit of magic goes a long way."

Your eyes switch back from the dress to Loki as an airy laugh bubbles from your throat. "I can't believe it."

"What, the magic or the gesture?"

"Both," you blurt out, shaking your head. "Did you make them? Like, out of thin air? Or did they come from somewhere?"

"If I told you all my secrets, I'd either have to kill you, or marry you," he smirks.

You glance away.

He resumes, "Now, which shall it be? Will you be bold, fluid and entrancing like a fine wine? Or will you be graceful, poised and wild, like the oceans? It's entirely up to you."

Sure, Loki saving your ass is more of a business deal at this point. But all you want to do is hug him to release some of the gratitude in your heart. Instead, you clutch the robe tighter and stare at the outfits wondrously. It's as if they were made just for you; to make you feel confident and comfortable, not to make you look the most desirable. Loki, silently and persuasively waves the clothes.

Decisions, decisions. You sigh and purse your lips.

"Are you going to make me choose for you?"

"I mean, the red one is super nice, don't get me wrong. I love it. It just seems kinda high-maintenance, y'know? Plus it's always so hot in the rest of this place."

Then just wear the other dress, Loki thinks, but bites his tongue as another thought comes to mind. "The party could carry on into the late hours of the night."

"Do we have to stay that long, though?"

"We'll stay for as long as we're expected to."

Your heart rate picks up; he left no room for debate. He opens his mouth to further prove his point when cold air wafts around his hand - the blue dress was snatched and the door shut in his face without another word.

He blinks. The weight of the world he's buried himself in suddenly weighs heavy. You're both in for a long night.

The teal dress hugged you in the best ways. The modest neckline complimented the simple sleeveless design, and the skirt ruffled ever so slightly, just enough for you to swing around like a little girl. It was fun to do and it also gave you somewhere to put your fidgety hands as you walked. Helpful, indeed, since the atmosphere proved quite intimidating almost as soon as you stepped out of yours and Loki's living quarters.

The thumping of music vibrates in the soles of your flat shoes, and everyone you've passed has turned their heads; staring and gasping before looking away when you acknowledged them. You tried to think nothing of it - even as obvious as it was - and Loki made that a bit easier.

It seemed like he was taking huge steps, though it was likely his normal pace, but nonetheless it made you speed-walk just to keep up. Not wanting to look like a child keeping up with their parent in a grocery store, you fell behind at a comfortable distance. This gave you a clearer view of the Sakaarian passersby. Which isn't exactly what you were going for.

As he got a few feet ahead, amidst all the faces and bodies around, you locked eyes with someone in a shaded corner. A woman, who could've been Asgardian - or even human. Dark golden skin, elaborately braided hair, a bottle to her lips, and big, striking eyes staring into yours. Reading what she could in a split second's time.

Your feet keot walking. Her face imprinted on your mind long after she was gone.

Thump!

You jump a foot back. Loki looks down at you, a mix of amusement and embarrassment on his face.

"Watch where you're walking. And it's not polite to stare."

With your entire body tightened into a ball, you awkwardly dust off his arm that you bumped into. "Sorry."

For the rest of the way, you look at your shoes.

To Loki, he was merely jesting due to the overt staring on the part of everyone else. Normally he would glare daggers sharper than anyone in the entire palace, but instead he chose to keep his chin up and embrace the looks - be them mostly toward you. What can he say? He accidentally chose the perfect dress for you out of thin air.

He'd noticed you doing what he'd chosen not to, and stopped to watch. Your head was completely turned to whomever received your look, and the mischief in him knew you wouldn't look up. But after that, you changed. He found himself missing that little spunk you'd built up when a thick silence took its place.

You kept falling behind in walking pace, so Loki decided to slow down a bit. Keep you at his side to keep the message clear: you were not to be meddled with by anyone.

The music from the party grew increasingly louder as you got closer. Loki could feel your feelings, despite not being connected to you in any way or an empath of any sort. It bothered him, needless to say. Both the inlet to your energy and the energy itself.

He elbows you in the shoulder, and you jump - confirming what he feels. Your big, nervous eyes glance up at him briefly.

Loki couldn't help but smile. "Say something."

You sigh shortly. "Everyone's staring at me."

"Would you like me to remove their eyes?"

You stop in your steps, and the mortified look on your face was priceless. Exactly what Loki wanted - a bit of loosening up.

He laughs, "What? I'm only joking."

"Something tells me you're not."

"Ah, yes. The fine line between truth and lies."

"So you're a poet now?"

He laughs again. It warms you from the inside out. "Maybe I am."

The two of you round a corner into a dark corridor, where two armored bouncers stand before a large door. Lights strobe and flash beneath it and the music pounds through. Loki confidently gives your names and the guards let you in.

The air was warm with bodies of Sakaarian citizens, and immediately you're bombarded by servers offering drinks. You take one, dumbfounded, and turn around to see the door shut tightly behind you. Blood drains from your face. In its place is clammy dread; the only thing grounding you is the cold glass sweating in your hand. The drink is glowing green - when you smell-test it, the alcohol fumes make you gag.

What kind of formal party is this?

Unable to hear yourself think over the music, you rely on your eyes. People are stumbling already - a rainbow of drinks spilt on the floor as the lights reflect upon them. Silver statues of the Douchemaster stand everywhere you look; tiny ones, Oscar sized ones, and one large one at the end of the room. It's enough to turn your stomach. And then the real thing spots you.

When the Grandmaster bounces up to you, your hand juts out and thankfully lands on Loki. He hadn't left your side.

"Ahhh! My very special guests, welcome! Welcome!"

"Our dear friend," Loki bows, "thank you so much for inviting us to your celebration. We couldn't imagine a greater honor."

"Oh, psh! Stop. The honor is mine! And dare I say you both look ... ah, dazzling," the Grandmaster hesitates, his eyes glued to your dress. The dress that definitely isn't what he sent you. "Yes, dazzling indeed, but where is the lovely piece I had made for you, dear?"

You open your mouth to respond, but Loki places a silencing hand on your shoulder. "Well, as you can see, my suit arrived in perfect condition," the Grandmaster nods attentively, "but it seemed as though the piece designed for my friend had been badly damaged. Burned beyond repair."

The Grandmaster's yellow eyes widen. "Oh my, I apologize. I certainly didn't send it that way."

"Oh, of course not! We would never think so. It was likely the doing of an envious servant and thus, we were forced to improvise."

"Huh," the Grandmaster says. "I'll have a talk with Topaz about that. I send everything through her before it goes through the sla - ahem, servants," he smiles a stomach churning smile. Loki squeezes your shoulder gently and you hold on to it for dear life. He's all that's keeping you together.

The Grandmaster quickly dismisses himself to greet other guests, leaving you and Loki to your devices. The first thing you do is relearn how to breathe, and then how to swallow.

"Hey," Loki says over the music, "come on. Try to have a bit of fun."

"This isn't exactly my idea of fun."

He guides you over behind a red couch, a space without listeners. Guilt swims in his green eyes as he chooses his words carefully. "I know you don't want to be here. But we have no choice. This is all a part of the plan, alright?" he looks around. "However, I'm willing to compromise. We can leave in just a couple of hours, if you'd like."

You nod. "I would."

"Very well, then." Loki shifts, "In the meantime, relax a bit. I'm right here. I won't let anyone harm you, as promised."

Oh boy. Two hours, you thought. That's doable. What could possibly happen in two hours time? Well, a lot of things.

But one thing that definitely was not on the list was Loki getting white girl wasted.

How? you'd asked yourself. You either lost track of how many drinks he consumed, or he drank one laced with diesel fuel. By the time you realized it, he was stumbling and falling into a couch full of other drunk guests. A sloshed drink in hand, red faced, giggly, and continuing to mingle as if nothing happened.

You stood there, frozen. Thank God the Grandmaster was conveniently nowhere to be found.

Seeing Loki in such a compromising state - for both him and yourself - it left you speechless. It ultimately left you alone. Alone under the weight of everything, while he shambled around in an oblivious state of euphoria. If you were to say a tiny pang of betrayal didn't sting you a bit, you'd be lying. Matter fact, you could've strangled him.

To top things off, what does he do when he sees you standing there shamefully? Does he apologize? Does he make room for you on the couch like a normal person? No. He drunkenly offers for you to sit on his lap. In front of everyone.

And that's when you ended the party.

The whole way back to your living quarters you ignored the nasty looks from everyone around you in the corridors. It wasn't hard this time since you had to be responsible for a surprisingly heavy man-sized baby who's just learned how to walk. Countless times he nearly tackled you to the floor with just his sheer, uncoordinated body weight.

But none of that even compares to the difference in his speech. As if things couldn't get any more embarrassing, you discovered that not only is Loki indeed a poet, but alcohol brings out an imprisoned, flirty Shakespearean teenager from him.

"Oh, my dear friend - beautiful and delicate as thou are, carrying the weight of a God on her mighty shoulders! Heheh ... thy strength is growing, my blooming flower. I shall need to be cautious in my further steps - whoohoo!" he howls as he trips again from uneven steps, steadying himself on your arms and shoulders.

You look for a window to throw him out of. But these hallways are cruel.

"I - ehehe - I seem to be losing balance as my true heart yearns toward thee, sweet warrior. And in thy face I see the map of honor, truth and loyalty." You look up through strands of his black hair obstructing your view and find him blindly looking around; cheeks flushed, a big boyish smile on his face. Under different circumstances, you'd melt to a sticky mess.

"Lies."

Loki snickers and belches. "She’s beautiful, and therefore to be wooed; She is woman, and therefore to be won."

Somewhere distant, the old saying plays in your mind about a drunk man's words being a sober man's thoughts. "You clearly have no idea what you're talking about - stop trying to take such big steps!"

He laughs brightly, unreserved. Even though he stinks of stale liquor, it was pleasant.

After what took three times longer than it needed to, you arrived to your living quarters and keyed in the access code. Loki practically fell through the threshold and bounced off the surrounding walls. Jesus Christ, he was gonna hurt himself.

You guide him into his small little bedroom where you knew he'd be safe. Politely you turn away so he could change clothes - though he just "magicked" them, and much like earlier at the party he disgracefully fell into the bed.

In a fit of giggles he adjusted to a more comfortable position. You can't help but roll your eyes at how ridiculously out of character he is. And then you think of how many people saw it as well. Before you can stop yourself the words lightheartedly flow out. "You really made an ass out of yourself."

He clears his throat, "That ... is completely subjective, my dear. One fellow's ass is another fellow's aspiration."

"Uh-huh."

"If I were to say you were the most beautified, would you say that beautified was a vile phrase?"

"If you were sober, I probably would." Tomorrow feels so close, but with drunk Loki, so far away. You switch off his wall lamp as he yawns. "You want me to tuck you in?" you ask jokingly.

"What's that?" he chirps, to your surprise.

"It's uh," you gather yourself, "well, on Earth, it's when you tuck the blankets around someone to make them feel more secure at night. Parents usually do it for their small kids."

Loki licks his lips in thought. "I don't think that's something we do in Asgard."

Come on. How could you not tuck him in after hearing that?

With the soft blue blanket draped over his stupidly long body, you tuck it tightly around him - from his wiggly feet all the way up to his neck. Thoughtlessly, like a parent would do their child, you peck him on the forehead to finish.

In the dark you suddenly lock eyes, and he looks at you in a way that, in fairy tales, Prince Charming might gaze at Cinderella.

But this isn't a fairy tale. And you're no Cinderella.

Mixed up in your feelings, you make way to leave; you make the mistake of looking back and find Loki watching you go - as if you were leaving for a long voyage and he actually cared about you.

His eyes were glassy and dilated. "Why have you tolerated me for this long?"

You blink. The sadness and suddenness of the question rattled your skin. What choice do I have? you almost say, but don't. He knows that.

Instead, you reply, "I mean, you're not the worst roommate in the world. You're pretty nice, actually. Look at me," you motion to the slightly disheveled teal dress still hugging your body, "I should be thanking you, for fuck's sake."

He nods shortly, casting his eyes downward.

"I pretty much owe you my life at this point," you add.

Loki meets your eyes again, and this time, the solemnity in them is sharp enough to kill. "You don't owe me anything."

An itch on your neck bites you. You weren't ready for the deep change in tone. Shakespearean-man-baby was much easier to deal with; well, easier to ignore. Now it seems as though Loki doesn't want you to be gone, as he might soberly portray. Or it's completely the alcohol talking.

Either way, you let it comfort you.

holy shit guys im sorry i dunno what happened it just ... happened

tag list:

@sydneyss-worlddd @afinedilemma @fire-in-her-veinz @belladonnabarnes @drakesfiance @internetgremlin @dragon-chica @triggeredpossum @tarynkauai

#loki x Reader #tales of sakaar #loki imagine #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki #loki series #tom hiddleston #thor #thor ragnarok #thor odinson #avengers #avengers x reader #avengers imagine #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #mcu #modestlyabsurd

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lexigraph · 3 years

Text

oh my god I found a draft of a Hawke/Varric thing I was working on (YES I have a pattern!! Maybe developers should stop making characters mine have extreme sexual tension and compatibility with ok.)

I don’t know if it will ever get any further than this, but the notes made me laugh and sad. Dumping it all after the cut. Please note that YES I literally stopped writing mid-sentence six years ago and never continued. Why??

It all started when we returned from the Deep Roads.

Actually, that’s not exactly true. It started about half a year before then, or else the last time I’d seen Bianca. Nevermind that. This isn’t the story I never tell, it’s just one that I don’t.

In any case, after the Deep Roads is as good a time as any to start. If you want the real beginning, it’s in the book. The Champion of Kirkwall. Sure, there may be some missing lines, a few redacted conversations, but the foundation is there. Go ahead and read the first act, I’ll wait. If you haven’t read it by now, though… let’s just say you’re in the minority. After all, it is my best selling story.

After the Deep Roads, Hawke and I had a lot of reasons to spend time together. After all, there was business to conduct: treasure that needed the right buyers at the right price, hirelings to question about their involvement with the whole “abandonment thing”, letters to write to various and sundry members of the Guild, maps to update with an ancient thaig, for Andraste’s sake.

There was also a lot of drinking to be done, or maybe it was just that a lot of drinking was done. It took the edge off of things… washed down any manner of dark thoughts. Or so we’d claim. The company helped, regardless. Hawke and her little band of misfits, myself included… we ruled the Hanged Man in those days.

After a while, well… things got a little more complicated and reasons turned to excuses.

---

Hawke drops herself into a chair at Varric’s long table with a considerable thunk of metal on wood; something ridiculous and heavy made of iron that she’s taken to wearing as ornamentation impacting less than delicately with his fine dwarven chairs. Varric sets the quill he’s been using in its holder, leaves the paper to dry. It’s just a bit about their encounter with the darkspawn. For his records; nothing serious, but he finds himself writing it as prose out of habit. It can wait.

He studies Hawke for a second. The rings under her eyes are especially bad today, the purple tinge of long nights visible even under the gold powder smeared across her eyelids and the smudged black of whatever substance she darkens her eyelashes with. She almost always looks like she slept in yesterday’s eye makeup, but lately each day has been progressively worse, and today is no exception. He swallows and tries to keep his tone light.

“No word?” Varric knows the answer, will probably know word is coming before Hawke does, but asks anyway. It isn’t entirely impossible that a messenger from the Wardens would slip past the notice of his carefully placed network of spies. Highly improbable, but not impossible.

She shakes her head and sighs, leaning forward to place both elbows against the edge of the table and duck her head as if to study the exquisitely carved wood. Not that the elbows bothered him; this table had, after all, seen a lot worse in it’s day, and Varric wasn’t exactly Mr. Manners. Hawke wasn’t normally an elbows on the table kind of gal, was all. Leaning back until she practically slid off the chair, sure. But hunched was bad. She’d been hunched a lot lately.

“Nothing at all. It’s been weeks, Varric. I just--”

“--want to know that your brother is alive. ‘The little snotrag’.” He finishes for her, managing (pretty badly) to keep back a chuckle. Hawke narrows her eyes but smiles, albeit a wan one.

“I’m sorry. I know you’re sick of hearing it.”

“Of course not.” He leans back in his chair, tipping so far that it’s balancing on two legs. “Though you could stand to get a little more creative with the insults. Carver was a little shit.” Shit. Hawke’s face falls again, fast, on ‘was’. Varric leans forward again so all four legs of his chair hit the ground, then pushes back and stands.

“Come on. I’ve got something for us to do.” That, at least, elicits a stronger smile. He’ll have to think of something good, and fast.

He mulls this over as Hawke waits for him to pull on his jacket and gloves, to strap Bianca on. He feels her eyes on him, and slows down just a little bit, making a show of adjusting the way his gloves lay and fiddling with his earrings. Varric is retying the sash around his middle (again) when he spies Hawke’s mouth pressing into a thin line. Time to stop dragging his heels.

“Alright, Hawke, let’s go.”

“If you’re sure you’re presentable, Tethras,” she rolls her eyes as she stands, but the smile has returned.

“Well excuse me. Some of us have a reputation to uphold. Actually, Hawke--” he gestures towards the door to his miniature suite, beckoning her through “--that’s going to include you very soon. You know how they are in High Town, after all.” His tone is light as a feather, threatening a chuckle.

Hawke shrugs her way out of the room, and he follows, then turns to pull the door shut. Not that locking it means a hell of a lot -- everyone basically already knows not to bother Varric’s things. It still makes him feel better.

“It might. If my share is what you said, I should be able to get the mansion.” A small throaty laugh escapes her. Varric fumbles with the key a moment, then shakes his head:

“And then some. Don’t worry, it’s not too difficult to line up buyers for ancient dwarven chamberpots.”

She laughs again as he turns around to find she’s still facing him. “I may just keep one. I’ll think of Bartrand every time I sh--” The expletive is drowned by the laughter that bursts out from deep in Varric’s body. Maker, it feels good to laugh like that.

“Alright, alright, I get the picture, you don’t have to get gross. Let’s go already.” He gestures again, toward the stairs. Hawke’s mouth twitches in a mischievous smile, but she turns on her heel and That’s where I stopped?? And then, a rare thing, an OUTLINE:

--- Months before learning Carver survived ---

Scene one: Two weeks after returning from the Deep Roads. Hawke and Varric go to the Black Emporium (pretend it is first time) to try and sell off some of the rarer goods. Run into Anders on the way, drag him along (hint at annoyance, very light).

Something something plot hook idek. Bandits? Someone sniffing about the manor trying to buy it first? Figger it out.

Small amount of time skip, nighttime scene, everyone loves fucking Wicked Grace at the Hanged Man scenes lets do this. Flirting, but table-wide. Some stupid observation from Varric about attention from Hawke being great or whatever blah blah blah. Maybe like a shoulder touch ho ho ho gettin’ racy. But point is Hawke is manic, flirtatious and drowning her anxiety, pretending to be happy about a good sale, whatever.

Hawke like blind drunk, Isabela already took someone to her room, everyone else has wandered off, SUPER PLANTONIC FLUFFY tucking her into his bed and setting up to a sleepness night writing just make sure it hurts a little how much Varric is taking care of her.

Morning afterwards maybe a fight OH NO about Carver?? oh no, Marie feeling stupid and hungover and sad and Varric sticking his foot in his mouth for once trying to be reassuring. You tits.

Break for action about whatever DUMB PLOT is happening, gives a chance for building tension because they’re being weird ha ha TIME TO BE WEIRD. Other people. Resist using Isabela to deliver tired lines about how they should shut up and kiss. Resist it. But whatever whole point is tension. Do not break the tension. Laughter must be strained.

Who loves shirty Hawke? Everyone. Anyway moving things along lets have enough time pass now for Carver to be Survive! Hooray? And so real celebration, everyone knows good news is an even better excuse to drink than avoiding problems.

Speaking of avoiding problems maybe like now is when Marie is still being shirty and Varric is like also shirty and so they have a “private” conversation at the bar (Varric, getting his own drinks? Must be serious) and now, now we’ll put cracks in that tension eggshell, there’s a baby bird inside ok it needs to breathe.

Varric is a grownup and Hawke is pretending. Let’s make more touching happen and confusion.

???

#dragon age #varric tethras #Marie Hawke #female Hawke #Varric x Hawke #ls posts

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davidmann95 · 4 years

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All-Star Superman #3

This is gonna be a tough one.

Not the toughest, mind you - that’s probably going to be #7. But after two issues of establishing the tone, aesthetics, and thematic concerns of the series, this is one of the pair of issues in All-Star that for the most part functions as a ‘normal’ Superman adventure story, though in this case one following up on the themes established by the previous issue, while #7 will set up the one coming after it. It’s also likely the most commonly critiqued issue of the series in retrospect its use of Lois Lane as an essentially passive figure to be fought over, and while her characterization here lends some interesting dimension to that choice, it’s hard to disagree it’s the series’ most unfortunate framing and substantial missed opportunity. None of that however can overrule that on examination, there’s still considerably more going on in here than the traditional tale of Superman beating down monsters and showing up bullies, the harsh slap to the face of reality for Clark after his actions last issue and his redemption in the form of showing what makes him different from his predecessors as the strongman-savior template.

So I haven’t talked the lettering much in this series - it is, they say, the invisible art - but Phil Balsman absolutely kills it here with KRULL WILL EAT YOU!, and the decision on the next page to render the ZEE ZEE ZEE ZEE of Jimmy Olsen’s signal watch in the font of the title pages is absolutely inspired, nevermind what he does with the Ultrasphinx later on. The bombast of the bastard lizard prince of the underworld and his cronies wreaking havoc aside though, what this page succinctly does is set up the entire conflict of the issue. It’s not just a monster, it’s a monster out of the past mimicking the cover of Action Comics #1, and apparently by way of terraforming Metropolis via steam clouds, trying to take control of Superman’s ‘world’. From Krull to Steve Lombard (“You tell me what a spaceman flying around in his underwear can give her that a good old hunk of prime American manhood can’t?”) to Samson and Atlas to the Ultrasphinx, this is a story of Superman up against dinosaurs in his image.

Ironically, however, it’s this Superman vs. Bros comic that has perhaps the most Bro sensibilities in the series. Per Morrison on the subject, “For that particular story, I wanted to see Superman doing tough guy shit again, like he did in the early days and then again in the 70s, when he was written as a supremely cocky macho bastard for a while. I thought a little bit of that would be an antidote to the slightly soppy, Super–Christ portrayal that was starting to gain ground. Hence Samson’s broken arm, twisted in two directions beyond all repair. And Atlas in the hospital. And then Superman’s got his hot girlfriend dressed like a girl from Krypton and they’re making out on the moon.” That’s not unto itself a problem; it’s a precursor to Morrison’s t-shirt and jeans reinvention in that sense (which leapt back from the 70s to the 30s for inspiration), and when Superman himself finally gets his own back here it’s more than deserved. But it becomes a problem when Lois at theoretically her literal most empowered does little with her new powers and is framed narratively as a prize to be won in this ‘game’ of godlings, with Superman literally muttering “What do I have to do to make you keep your hands off my girl?” Morrison seems to be somewhat aware of the problems given Lois’s reasons for playing along (which are actually rather significant to the point of the issue) and her amused distaste at the suggestion of being ‘won’, and the issue is ultimately something of an argument against the macho storytelling tropes that drive that thinking. But it’s a far cry from the nuanced look at her and Superman’s relationship last issue offered, and there’s no virtue in overlooking it. As will be demonstrated again later on in the series in less structurally-embedded but more pointed ways, this was written almost 15 years ago, and mistakes were made.

Now we get to the book’s superheroed-up takes on Samson and Atlas, who are such delightful assholes. Occupying the Mxyzptlk/Prankster/Bizarro-in-his-friendlier-moods role of being the enemies to make Superman go ‘oh god, this guy’ as much as direct counterparts to him, they’re basically fratboys tooling around history and getting into trouble together, and Superman’s clearly had to clean up their messes before. They’re the champions of myth who operate by a morality that in no way precluded thievery, deception, and murder in pursuit of their grand ‘heroic’ conquests, the alpha male swaggering dipshit dudebro operating on Superman’s scale. And as much as they’re a pair of craven dumbasses who literally compare cock-sizes in here who Lois has no real interest in, their appearance is also the first and one of the only times in the series Superman puffs his chest out and does some traditional iconic posing, and he has good reason to be threatened - they’re trying to ply her with gifts and tales of miraculous feats basically exactly the same way he did last issue. He may have started to come clean with her, but he’s still playing his old Silver Age nervous bachelor games, and now that she’s got powers and costume to match his she’s showing him exactly where that bullshit is going to get him, teaching him a lesson just like he tried to teach her so many once upon a time.

As we’re around the midpoint of the issue, let’s talk the art. Quitely and Grant aren’t as showy with the tricks and effects as the first two issues; the one real noticeable structural thing is a consistent rhythm of zooming in-and-out on our four leads throughout the issue to keep a sense of momentum to a story mostly driven by conversation, culminating in the hyper zoom-ins of the Ultrasphnix sequence. But GOD there are so many perfect little details in here. The bow coming undone on Lois’s present, the glow of the super-serum (it feels so right that it literally glows, the ultimate alchemical potion), Lombard’s bouquet for Lois’s birthday party while Jimmy is bringing a conch of some sort as a presumed gift to whoever they’ll be meeting at Poseidonis, Jimmy’s happy-meal looking signal watch WHICH HAS A WRISTBAND SHAPED LIKE AN S, more beautiful Metropolis architecture and a good look at how the Daily Planet globe actually works, poor dopey-lookin’ Krull bursting through the satellite twirling around like a cat in a half-second of freefall, the Chronomobile, the far-off monumental stone towers of the Subterranosauri, the glow of the lava fading out as Samson reveals Superman’s fate, the bioelectric crackle around Atom-Hotep, mermaids waving up at Superman and Lois, and of course the pinup. It’s such a damn pretty book.

Just before the arrival of the Ultrasphnix, we have the mythic architecture of the series explained to us, naturally by the figure out of myth:

As noted by Morrison, the exact nature of the 12 challenges are never explained within the story because it’s only in retrospect that history will declare those specific feats as being of note in light of them being Superman’s last accomplishments before his ‘death’; Superman himself isn’t sure how many he’s done later on. It’s an apt if seemingly out-of-left-field bit of commentary on the way epics of the kind this story itself aspires towards are reinterpreted over time, but hindsight being 20/20? That this is a story of a massively iconic, archetypal take on Superman being brought out of the public eye to his physical and emotional lowest at every turn (hence the ACTUAL structure of the series being a solar arc across the sky, from day to a nighttime journey through the underworld and back again), that is now generally thought of being a fun fluffy story of how great and perfect Superman is, entirely bears it out. The 12 Labors of Superman are what Clark’s roughest year looks like to the awestruck onlookers, both in and as it turns out in large part out of text.

After Samson and Atlas seemingly show nobler colors by offering Superman aid in a genuinely stirring moment before Superman accurately dismisses it as the empty machismo posturing it is, Ultrasphinx - yet another super-champion of the past, this one an amoral god rather than a ‘hero’ on a quest - poses the unanswerable question of what happens when the unstoppable force meets the immovable object with Lois both alive and dead until he does (one of those unions of opposites Morrison loves), basically creating a high-stakes literalization of their relationship. Superman and Lois Lane had been playing will-they-or-won’t-they for almost 70 years at the time this was published (culturally at least), her trying to pry into his secrets while he screwed around with her in turn, running in circles until we finally reach the acidic psychodrama of Superman’s Forbidden Room and something has to break one way or another. And Superman answers that it’s time to surrender. Has he inspired the car ad we see at the end of the issue, or vice-versa? Either way, it’s illustrating by example what the deal is with the super-labors.

Superman, learning his lesson as he has and showing his greater heroism stems from his nobility, intellect, and willingness to transcend his worst instincts, still takes a minute to teach Samson and Atlas a well-deserved lesson (paired with that absolutely perfect shot of the rock cracking on Lois’s head), before taking us to my absolute favorite statement on why Superman loves Lois Lane which also connects back to the idea of surrender, and the iconic moon shot. And as Superman holds her as she falls asleep, his Clark voice in all its vulnerable humanity manifests itself as he tries to propose; the tough guys of the past wanted Lois for a day when she was finally operating on ‘their level’, Superman ‘lowers’ himself to his most human alongside her reassumed mortality as he tries to tell her he wants her for what lifetime he has left. We’re only halfway there at most, he still hasn’t admitted his condition and she still can’t accept that he’s Clark, but this is Superman taking his first step along his quiet character arc.

Additional notes

* Interestingly, the original solicitation for this issue declared “Meanwhile, Lex Luthor's plans simmer as the criminal mastermind exerts his charisma and intellect over the hardcore inmates who share his maximum-security prison.” One of many bits that changed in the process of actually putting the book together.

* Perhaps this story of very manly men out of time doing manly stuff and getting their asses kicked for it across generations is represented in part by Krull being the son of a king whose battle cry is KRULL WILL EAT YOUR CHILL-DRUNN! That might be reading a *bit* much into it though. That Morrison describes Krull in backmatter however as “the living embodiment of the savage, swaggering ‘R Complex’ or reptile brain” definitely plays into the ideas of the issue as I understood them.

* Jimmy’s declaration of “Ms. Grant, Mr. Lombard, I’m taking immediate steps” is a perfect little moment for him - he’s calm and on top of things, but there’s also that little touch of naive ego in thinking that it’s thanks to him that Superman’s going to notice the dinosaur invasion of Metropolis.

* In backmatter and interviews Morrison had substantially further fleshed-out backstories for several of the new characters here. Samson is indeed the original champion, plucked from his era by a pair of foolish time-travelers searching for a savior; instead, enamored and corrupted by future culture he stole their malfunctioning Chronomobile and went on adventures to slake his lust, for fortune, flesh, and adventure alike. Atlas meanwhile is the boisterous yet quietly burdened young prince of the New Mythos, a society of super-godlings torn between New Elysium and Hadia, Morrison’s vision of a Jack Kirby Olympian saga for DC following in the wake of Thor’s Norse myths rather than the full-blown invention of the New Gods. And the Ultrasphinx “is the super-champion of a lost Egyptian Atomic Age in the 80th century BC. When he crashed to Earth his otherworldly science founded the advanced, ancient dynasty of Atem-Hotep [sic], a civilization eventually destroyed by the nuclear war that left Northern Africa a desert”. A. Morrison backmatter rules and you should read it whenever you get the chance, and B. This notion of proto-civilizations mirroring the eventual legends of a mere handful of millennia past is one he followed much further in Seven Soldiers of Victory with Shining Knight and its antediluvian Camelot.

* The main inspiration for this particular story was the frequent use of ancient strongmen as rivals to the Man of Steel in the Silver Age, which Morrison noted preferring to the use of analogue characters like Majestic for their broad cultural standing, culminating in this:

...though with Atlas swapped in, as Marvel already had the definitive take on Hercules in superhero comics (and, one imagines, since putting Hercules in the comic where Superman gets 12 labors would have had to be addressed), though he’d tackle him later on in the...controversial Wonder Woman: Earth One. Morrison’s analysis of this cover in Supergods basically lays out the thesis of this issue quite cleanly: “This was what happened when you couldn’t make decisions or offer any lasting commitment. Samson pounced on your best girl. And for Superman, it was a horrific challenge to his modernity. Was he really no better than these archaic toughs? Or could he prove himself stronger, faster than any previous man-god?” Fun fact: I myself hate this comic because it’s an entirely standard issue that fully returns to status quo by the end, sullying the good name and promise of Imaginary Stories for nothing more than fooling readers into thinking this was one of the issues were anything could really happen. Shameful false advertisement.

* Worth noting this is a rare instance where the glowing-red angry heat vision eyes work for me. Those two were real dicks and had it coming, and for that matter Superman looking for all the world a wrathful god promising banishment to a very different sort of underworld more than underscores his relative position next to the suitably abashed adventurers.

* It’s an interesting choice to use Poseidonis here, the capital city of Aquaman - it’s a sensible place for Superman to travel (though the real implications regarding the Justice League in this world won’t be for awhile yet), but it’s Tritonis that’s the undersea home to Superman’s onetime love, the mermaid Lori Lemaris. Perhaps Morrison just didn’t want a subset of readers in the know and pining after all these decades for Clark to find succor in the arms of his fishy love to dwell on that particular what-could-have-been; either way, Atlantis in general as what sprung up from a devastated ancient civilization is a perfectly logical inclusion for this issue in general.

* Lois’s description of her super-senses is not only lovely, but sets up the victory of #12 right in the first act. Additionally Lois keeping a cactus is such a perfect little bit for her character - it’ll prick ya, but she’s working to keep the thing alive.

* The journeys to the moon and ‘underworld’ for this issue, but in playful and romantic contexts, marks this issue as the (depending on whether you read it as a 4 or 6 issue arc) final installment before All-Star Superman begins its structural descent into the night.

* A very happy birthday to Justin Martin (and a day-before-birthday to myself) with this, annotations of the issue of All-Star Superman about a birthday. Birthdays themselves being a signpost of time and evolution, a forward march, making it a potent occasion to highlight in this series in general and this installment in particular.

#All Star Superman #Superman #Lois Lane #Grant Morrison #Frank Quitely #Jamie Grant #Phil Balsman #Bronze Age #Sexism #Art #Opinion #Analysis

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queenraikichi94 · 4 years

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A song to heal a tired soul 1(Raikichi x Piers)

Sooooo this is going to be a group of fics about Raikichi, my trainersona, in Galar.

Rated: Teen and mature

Warning: Bad language, I think?

Note: Raikichi is around 25 years old

------------PART 1-----------------------------

“Are you really going to leave?”

“Of course, Guzma”

“Why?!”

“First of all, don’t yell at me! And second, I need a break. Being a Champion that holds the World Title and a famous coordinator brings a lot of problems handling with the press at the end and...”

“And you’re going to run like a coward?”

“I’m not a coward like you. You don’t know what it’s being on my shoes. Should I remind you when you yelled at me when you knew I saved one of your dammit grunts for being slashed by a Totem Salazzle?”

“You got very near of being charred in the Wela Volcano!!”

“DID YOU PREFER TO SEE THAT POOR GUY BEING KILLED BY THAT SALAZZLE?!”

He went silent. I sighed and I took a deep breath “At least my wounds healed well and that boy is safe...”

“Do they hurt? The scars.”

“Since when you worry about that” I hissed. He glared at me. I would never forgive him about he had said to me when I was recovering “Nevermind, tomorrow I’m leaving to Galar. I have an uncle there and I hope for your own shake you won’t appear there”

“What if I do it?”

“Dare to do it and I’ll make sure you will be suffer a lot”

Guzma swallowed before sighing and giving me something “Take this with ya”

“Why are you giving me a Buginium Z?”

“Who knows, maybe you can use it”

He turned and walked away, and I did the same, with my loyal Glaceon at my side

---------

The sound of my Glaceon calling me took me back to reality. I sighed as I ran a hand over the left side of my head, the one I nearly full shaved. I wanted a change and I got it. With another sigh I looked through the window of the airplane. Hours ago I was saying goodbye to my friends in Alola with the not-very-sure-promise of going back there to do something for the opening of the first Pokemon League in Alola. That would mean press. A LOT of press, and since I was getting tired of that, I decided to take a break. I’ve told Kukui that I would think on it, but I wasn’t sure. I removed my glasses and I stroked the scars on my face. They still hurted, but the thing that hurted me the most was Guzma’s words when I was recovering in the Pokecenter near the Wela Volcano Park after falling inside the volcano and getting too near of being charred. Why did you do that? he asked. I saved him, I said. But he didn’t listen. He was annoyed about me doing a thing like that, ignoring the fact about me saving the poor guy.

“Fuck you, Guzma...” I hissed closing my eyes and stroking my temple. Glaceon tilted her head and rubbed her head againts my arm “Ya know, I was a damn fool believing that I could help them. I was a fool thinking about having something with him” Glaceon made a sound that made me look at her “Hey, don’t say that. He treated me well...Well, once he saw I only wanted to help them” she made another sound and I sighed “Yeah, yeah, wathever. It seems that I can’t let anyone to have my heart” another sound she made and another sigh I let escape from my lips. Yeah, I could understand my Pokemon, it was something my family had through all the family lines, but not everybody developed it, not like my maternal grandmother and me.

“Excuse me, miss” one of the starwedesses said “Do you want something for drink or eat?”

“No, thanks” I said and the woman nodded and kept walking offering drinks and food

I took the Buginium Z from my pocket and I moved it on my fingers. I didn’t have time to put it on the box with the rest of the Z crystals, so I put it on my pocket. Glaceon licked my hand and after moving the crystal to my other hand, I stroked her head “Don’t worry, girl. Once we put our feet in Galar, I’ll be fine”

-------

The airport in Motoske city was full of people, and that made me be worry. I knew that the Pokemon League in Galar was like a sportive event that a lot of people watched, and all the Gym Leaders were famous. That was the thing that worried me since my uncle was one of those Gym Leaders. I looked in both directions, trying to detect any hints that could tell me that there was press there, but failed.

“Glaceon,be aware of any press, ‘kay?” I said and she nodded

I took my bags and I walked, trying to find my uncle in the big crowd. It was then when I heard his voice that I rose my head and I saw him but then, a blue light appeared and now I had a very affectionate Centiskorch wrapped around her and waiting for being petted “Y-yeah, I missed you too, buddy, but please, I need breath, y’know?”

“Centiskorch was very affectionate with you since you were a kid” the trainer said as he made Centiskorch return to its pokeball

“Uncle Kabu!” I said once I recovered my breath and then, I ran to hug him “I missed you a lot, uncle”

“Me too” he laughed before putting his hands on my shoulders “You’ve changed a lot since the last time I saw you, kiddo”

“Uncle, please, I’m old enough to stop being called ‘kiddo’ “

“Maybe, but you’re still the Sweet Princess of the family”

“Uncle” I complained and he laughed, making me sigh. Glaceon rubbed her head on his leg asking for pets “Glaceon remembers you as well”

“I see” he said stroking her soft fur before standing up and looking at me “What happened to you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Those scars”

I sighed and I shook my head “Yeah, a lot of things happened...Let’s leave that topic once I got a proper rest”

Uncle Kabu rose an eyebrow before smiling and helping me with my bags “Alright. C’mon, let’s go”

“Uncle, tell me there isn’t any press outside” I said a bit nervous

“Don’t worry, if there is press, I’ll make sure they don’t disturb you”

“Thanks. The last thing I want is being disturbed by those fools”

We arrived at my uncle’s flat after taking a Flying Taxi. I got marvelled by that magestic Corviknight, something that made my uncle chuckle. Once inside the house, I dropped myself into the couch of the living room with a groan. “I hope you don’t mind having me around here for some time”

“I told you when you called me to tell me that you were coming here, Raikichi. I don’t mind if that helps you to get some peace”

“Thanks, uncle...” I said with a yawn before standing up and stretching a bit “I need to take a shower to refresh myself”

“The bathroom is next to the guests room” he said after exiting of the named room “I left your bags on the guests room”

“Alright” I said before removing my jacket, revealing the burn scars that covered my left shoulder and part of my back, with the scars that I hade on the left arm. My uncle got a worried expression on his face before sighing “I hope you don’t mind going to one of the most famous restaurants here in Mototoske”

“Wait, when?”

“Maybe after you get refreshed and accomodate yourself here” uncle Kabu said “And of course, the rest of the Gym Leaders will be there. It’s going to be a small welcome party. I thought it would be better to have it in the evening and...Raikichi?”

“You couldn’t wait to tell them, right?” I said. He nodded and I couldn’t help but chuckle “I was hopping to have a nap after taking a bath, but that can wait a bit” I added “I’m going to take a bath”

He nodded and then I went to the bathroom, with my Glaceon following me. Once I closed the door, I got naked, hissing due the small pain the scars produced me. Those weren’t the first scars I got. I touch the ones I got on my right shoulder; the first ones. I sighed and after filling the bathtub with warm water, I entered, enjoying the warm of the water as I started to feel all my tireness leaving me. Glaceon was cleaning her fur as I got my body and my hair washed. Once I was done, I got out of the bathtub and I removed the tap to let the water left the bathtub before getting dried and dressed. I pull my hair into a ponytail and then I looked myself into the mirror. I knew Galar had a colder weather than in Alola but I didn’t care a lot. The clothes I choosed were a black t-shirt with black short pants, as well with black shoes. Something simple but comfy. Of course, that revealled the scars and small burn scars that decorated my legs, something that maybe would make my uncle to ask me more about my scars.

“Let’s go, Glaceon” I said putting the dirty clothes into the chest destinated to those clothes before going to the living room, where my uncle was waiting, petting his Ninetales as his Arcanine layed down on the carpet, next to Centiskorch “I’m ready, uncle”

“Alright” he said taking his coat as I took mine, then he made his Pokemon go back to their pokeballs “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about them?”

“Not today” I said with a sigh as we exited the house in direction of the restaurant, with Glaceon at my side “Maybe tomorrow, ‘kay?”

“You know you can count with me, kiddo”

“I know” I smiled “You have been always very supportive with me, like mom, dad, and grandma”

“And I’m still being supportive” he said “You know, you’re the only kid your parents had after too many failed tries”

“Yeah, I know...” I said loosing my smile. My parents didn’t mention a lot about the previous children they had, that didn’t have the luck to enjoy life cause they died few hours after being born. “So...Me being the only kid my parents had was the reason you had to spoil me a lot?”

“Kind of” uncle Kabu said ruffling my hair “I know you are a young adult and a very well talented trainer and coordinator, but I can’t stop seeing that small kiddo that always wanted to pet Centiskorch when I see you”

“Oh, c’mon, uncle” I laughed and he joined me in the laugh

We arrived at the restaurant. Luckily, no press was there. I sighed as we entered inside, with my uncle guiding me and Glaceon to the table where the other Gym Leaders were. “Hey, Kabu! Right here!”

“I hope you’re not thinking on taking selfies during the evening, Raihan” Kabu said

“Why not?”

“My niece wouldn’t like that”

All the gazes of the Gym Leaders were now on me. At first I tried to avoid them, but that wasn’t going to work, so I looked at them. Glaceon rubbed her head on my leg and I smiled softly. “This is Raikichi, my...” uncle Kabu started to say before being interrupted by a tan girl with black and blue hair “I can’t believe you’re here!” she said “When Kabu told us that his niece was coming to Galar and that she was the World Champion og the Pokemon League, everyone then wanted to meet you”

“Oh...That sounds nice...But don’t say that too loud, please” I said a bit overwhelmed

“Please, Nessa, she has just arrived today” my uncle said “I called all of you because I want you to know her and maybe once she’s acommodate you could taste what is being beated by her”

“That’s a challenge?” Gordie, the Rock type leader said with a smirk

“Maybe”

“Aww, I can’t believe this little girl is actually the World Champion” Raihan said. Oh. By. Arceus. He was too tall, and being shorter wouldn’t help. I knew that something was going to happend, I was sure he would do jokes about my height, starting with that first one. I heard enough of those jokes and I wasn’t going to allow him to laugh at me, so when he tried to ruffled my hair, I took his wrist and I made him lean so low that he was nearly to lose his balance.

“Listen to me, Dragon Boy. I’m not a child. I’m around 25, and I’m sure that is more less your age, so if you dare again to make jokes about my heigh, be sure that you will know what is having yours balls frozen. Understood?” I said and he nodded, so I released his wrist and let him recover his balance

“Whoa, she is strong-character, isn’t she?” Raihan said going back to his seat

“It runs in the family” Kabu said with a laugh “That would teach you not to mess with someone that can beat you despite of its small size”

That made the other Gym Leaders chuckle as Raihan’s cheeks turned red, embarrased. My uncle and me took seat as well, and after ordering the food, one of the waitresses brought some Pokemon food for my Glaceon. I smiled and then, I removed my jacket and put it on my chair. I ignored the few gazes that the leaders gave to me, examining my scars.

“So...You are also a coordinator, aren’t you?” someone asked

I rose my head and my hazel eyes met the light blue eyes of the Dark type Gym Leader. His name was Piers, and he was proud of being the first Dark type Gym Leader, at least for me, cause I didn’t meet another leader that managed that type before. I smiled softly and I nodded “Yeah, I’m a coordinator...Well, maybe I was”

“You were?”

“Yeah...I mean, I spent these last years without doing anything to practise my contest skills...And I don’t think I will be back on stage”

Piers rose an eyebrow as he looked at me before smiling softly. That smile made me smile as well. The evening turned to be quiet but also funny. Raihan tried to tease me using my heigh on his jokes but Glaceon made sure he didn’t get his jokes going along. Threating a dragon trainer with being frozen was enough to keep him in line.

Two hours later, the party reached its end cause Bea and Allister, the youngest of the leaders, had to go back soon to their homes. The Gym Leaders gave me their league cards, the last one was Piers who gave me a soft smile while he have me his card “I hope ya’ll go to Spikemouth for one of my concerts” he said and I smiled again, remembering that he told me he was a singer

“Sure, I’ll tell you if I go there”

He smiled again and left the restaurant. My uncle and me left the restaurant and went back to his flat. The night was arriving and that brought cold weather, but I didn’t mind that. Once in home, I went to the bedroom that would be mine for a time and I got changed into my sleeping clothes. Then, I went to the living room and sat down on the coach, with Glaceon taking her place on the couch.

“Did you enjoy this evening?” uncle Kabu asked was he gave me a cup of tea

“Yeah, I did...Uncle?”

“Yes?”

“I promise I’ll tell you about the scars tomorrow”

He nodded and together, we watched the TV. Slowly, I started to feel my eyelids closing. I said goodnight to my uncle and then, I went to my bedroom, lying down on the soft bed and covering on the warm blankets. Glaceon jumped and curled next to me, ready to get a proper sleep. I took my phone and after searching Pier’s name on the music library that was online, I closed my eyes, smiling as I enjoyed his songs, the ones I choosed cause they were soft and slowly, and with a smile, I fell asleep.

#pokemon sword and shield #pokemon sun and moon #raikichi pkmn #kabu #piers #raihan #opal #allister #bea #nessa #milo #melony #gordie #trainersona #piers x oc #guzma #a song to heal a tired soul

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ineffably-good · 5 years

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Good Omens Fic: Because I missed you (and I like it when you bite)

Summary:

It's never a good idea to let an angel get lonely.

——

This is part one of what is either a two or three part story - more coming very soon I hope! Subscribe here to see chapter two later this week!

Chapter One

It all began because Aziraphale got lonely. It’s never a good idea to let an angel get lonely, but particularly when the angel is Aziraphale. When Aziraphale was lonely, he was prone to making poor decisions, seeking company in the most unsuitable of places, and on one memorable occasion, getting downright dejected.

On the day in question, Aziraphale was startled to receive a rather unusual piece of post – somehow a copy of the periodical Reptiles Enthusiast appeared in his letter box, clearly gone astray from its intended recipient. He would normally have blamed Crowley for somehow fending this missive his way, but he was well aware that Crowley was taking one of his longer-than-usual, once-a-century naps right now, so it couldn’t have been his doing.

But, being at loose ends, the angel sat down to flip through it, ended up getting pulled in to an article about myths and misconceptions about snakes, and was surprised to discover all kinds of things he had not previously known.

Two hours later, having read the entire thing cover to cover two times, Aziraphale headed out on a whim to visit the local pet shop.

Two months prior

“I’m sorry, Aziraphale, I’m just so exhausted,” Crowley moaned one evening as he lounged on the sofa in the shop. “I think I’m going to need to take a nap.”

Aziraphale turned to look closely at his friend. “Well, that’s no problem, my dear – nap away, you don’t have to let me know whenever you want to sleep!”

“No, I don’t mean a nap, I mean a NAP. Like, a been-building-up-for-the-last-few-decades kind of a nap. it might take a while.” Crowley said, looking unsure of himself. “I didn’t want to not let you know this time.”

Ah, that explained things. The last time Crowley had napped for an extended period, he’d slept away most of the 19th century, and Aziraphale, with no forewarning, had been at first worried senseless about what had happened to his friend and then utterly irate with him when the demon returned. Crowley still had to suppress a flinch when thinking about the chilly, angry reaction he got from the angel when he returned. It was months before Aziraphale stopped glaring balefully at him whenever they met.

“Yes, I appreciate that,” Aziraphale said rather shortly, obviously having a flashback of his own to the same experience. He tried to shake off his irritation, but his voice retained a bit of that irritated school marm tone. “How long will you be gone? And – will it be safe? Where will you be? What if Hell comes looking for you again? Have you actually considered any of these things?”

Crowley sat up and tried not to react to the obvious baiting. “I have, actually,” he said. “Not a century, for sure. Might be a – “ he looked down, feeling a little unsure of his reception. “Might be a year.”

“A year!!” Aziraphale exclaimed, wringing his hands. “Oh dear! Must it be so long?”

“Better than the last time,” Crowley said, which the angel had to admit was true. “As for safety, I was thinking – well I thought – you see –”

Aziraphale frowned, concerned. It wasn’t like Crowley to not just spit out his thoughts. “What is it, Crowley? Please just speak your mind.”

“I was wondering if -- well, that is – I thought maybe I could sleep here.”

Aziraphale’s mind went blank, then went in a hundred different directions at once, with three major thoughts arising to the top of the fray. One, he was absurdly touched that the demon wanted to hibernate in his home, that this was his safe place. Two, it was hardly like he used his own bed. As a rule, Aziraphale didn’t sleep, and if he did it was a short nap bent over a book in an arm chair once every few months. He'd never really miss the use of his bedroom, even if it was tied up for a year.

Three, he was surprised by the vulnerability of the request, and by the warm rush it created in him in response. It wasn’t like Crowley to admit that he needed anyone for anything.

He must have been lost in his thoughts for too long, because suddenly Crowley was on his feet and heading for the door. “Nevermind, angel, stupid idea,” he called as he swung out onto the street.

Aziraphale shook his head clear and hurried after him, just in time to catch him by the sleeve as he reached the Bentley.

“My dear,” he said, “I’m sorry! You just took me by surprise.” Crowley turned around to look at him, a raw and miserable look in his eyes. “Truth is – well, I’d be delighted to be your guardian while you sleep!”

Crowley scoffed. “It’s not that I need a guardian, angel,” he said sharply, fooling absolutely no one. “It’s just that you have a softer bed, and it’s warmer here, and - and then you wouldn’t have to come all the way over to the apartment if you wanted to check up on me.”

Aziraphale smiled softly. “That’s very thoughtful of you, my friend. Thank you. You’re very welcome to stay.”

And thus it was that a day or two later, Crowley appeared with a pile of thick blankets, mumbled his greetings to Aziraphale, and went upstairs. When the angel checked on him later, he was curled under what must be at least five pounds of blankets, sunglasses on the nightstand, fast asleep.

Aziraphale mentally increased the heat in the bedroom by ten degrees, shut the door quietly, and got on with his day.

It didn’t bother him at first, missing Crowley, because he got such a little buzz of happiness whenever he peeked in on him. Crowley, to his credit, was good at sleep. He napped like the Olympic champion of napping; unaware of anything and everything around him. Aziraphale watched him sleeping more than he probably should, at first, then slowly backed away and tried to bury himself in his books.

He first began to notice that the absence was affecting him when he started talking even more than usual to his books. Aziraphale was always a putterer, always talking to inanimate objects and whispering little loving little comments and endearments to his favorite books and objects, but after a month or two, he noticed he was beginning to have whole, one-sided conversations with his shelves, and sometimes pausing as if expecting them to comment back. He began to frequent his favorite bakeries a little more often, not just stopping in for a quick hello and a bag of goodies to take away, but sitting down at a table to spend an hour or two and chatting with the proprietors in ways he hadn't in many years. As a result, he came to know a truly amazing amount of information about each and every employee's families, friends, academic careers, hobbies, foibles, and dreams. It began to be a bit hard to keep it all straight. Wherever he sought company, he was welcomed with opened arms. But in the end, it was really just not the same.

He had just begun to realize this when the Reptile magazine arrived. And that was when everything went just ever-so-slightly off the rails.

(More soon here)

#good omens fan fiction #ineffable husbands #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #idiots in love #never let an angel get too lonely #they just can’t handle it

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jarmes · 4 years

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Blind Shield Nuzlocke Notes 10 (Finale)

-Starting off the tenth and possibly final session

-Current Team: Freight the Coalossal, High Voltage the Toxtricity, Nosferatu the Dreadnaw, Riot the Falinks, Snowball the Frosmoth, Warrior the Grapploct

-I updated Warrior’s moves in preparation for Raihan, he now knows Drain Punch Waterfall Superpower and Ice Punch

-Even though Raihan is a dragon specialist, I’m not using Snowball. Last time he led with a Gigalith so I’m leading with Nosferatu and Warrior

Raihan

-Oh god he reworked his team for one on one battles there goes my plan

-Why the FUCK does he have a torkal

-Like, from a story perspective, why would he try to take out Charizard boi with a drought Pokémon?

-Whatever I’ll just use rock side

-OH FUCK IT MISSED AND NOW NOS HAS NO HEALTH SWITCHING TO FREIGHT

-Okay, it tanked a solar beam and it tanked a rock slide

-Second rock slide killed

-Raihan switched to Flygon, I switched to Snowball. Flygon Used sandstorm

-I’d use quicker dance, but I can’t risk a stone edge so I’m using Aurora beam

-Well, it used dragon claw so I messed up

-Turtonator? Time to switch back to freight and take no damage from that fire blast

-Rock slide, sunny day, miss, dragon pulse, rock slide, dead

-He sent out Goodra, dynamaxing and using Max rockfall

-Raihan Used rain dance? This team has a lot less synergy than the last one. Whatever, canceled it out with max rockfall

-Raihan made it rain, AGAIN, and died to a third max rockfall. Which made it sandstorm

-Unfortunely, dynamax wire off and he switched to GM Duraldon. Switching to Tiot cause freight is low

-Tanked a Max rockfall and Max knuckle, took half with a Brick Break

-OH GID MAX DEPLETION PUT ME AT 8 HP AND THERES A SANDSTORM

-Thank god, Close Combat killed and the battle ended

-Now for champion Leon and/or Tesla CEO Rose

Leon

-Dont know what he’ll use except Charizard and possibly Sobble. Putting Snowball up front because I know Charizard will be last and I may be able to sweep with quiver dance

-The cheering of the crowd fills you with determination

-“Wait, hold on!” Goddamn it rose

-“It’s time I brought about the darkest day, for Galars future of course” it’s called the darkest day you can’t be an antivillain and still call your plan the darkest day

-I knew dragonville tower was evil plan place

-“But you’re terrible at directions, what if you get lost along the way?”

-Hop acknowledges the fact that he sucks good

-Hell yeah! Going back to the slumbering weald to catch god!

-Oh sweet a life orb giving it to Warrior

-I’m glad they brought back the evil team interrupts the elite four thing from black and white

-Shield dog is in front because it is important

-Sonia can’t see god dogs because Sonia isn’t a stand user

-Getting Zelda vibes

-Honestly, the Shield is more fitting for a Nuzlocke than the sword. You aren’t trying to destroy, you’re trying to survive, to protect the team members you care about

-The dogs are dead, aren’t they

-I’m actually surprised I’m not just fighting Shield dog, this is different

-The leaders evacuated Hammerlocke, making themselves useful

-How did hop get past Oleana?

-Hey! It’s good mook! I forgot to mention her earlier but she’s cool

-Rampaging dynamax pokemon in the power plant hell yeah

-Eternatus! The least kept secret in the game! I’ve seen this thing and it’s cool and I’m glad I get to fight it instead of waiting for ultra Shield

-Leon’s fighting on the roof like a badass

-Is that an egg

-Ooh summoning Satan to use as green energy what could go wrong

-THAT CHOIR

Rose

-I still have Snowball out front

-And he’s using escavalier. Time for freight to continue carrying this team

-Uh oh swords dance

-Nevermind, outsped it ant took it out with heat crash

-“You’re go tough that’s not fair” life isn’t fair bitch

-Ferrothorn, really?

-It survived a heat crash. Operative word being A, because the second one killed it

-Rose, I know why Leon beat you as a kid. It’s because you exclusively use steel types and he has a goddamn Charizard

-Klingklang got off two wild charges but it’s dead now

-Freight’s at half health and can take out purrserker, but I don’t want to switch into Rose’s GM anchor so I’m going to Riot

-Took a lot of damage in the switch, but took it out with a Max knuckle

-“I’ll show you a move that hits so hard you’ll be speechless” I doubt it

-OH GOD FAIRY MOVE

-Whatever it’s dead now

-That chuckle and clap, gg mate

-“Leon is just like a knight in shining armor coming to rescue the princess from a dragon!” Glad pokemon is finally giving lgbt representation

-Leon caught eternatus doggie doggie what now

-Side note, I just realized I haven’t used any of my dynamax candy yet. Used them all of Nosferatu for obvious reasons

-And Leon hasn’t defeated eternatus yet great

-A fucking pokeball, Leon? Really?

-Okay were fighting this thing now I guess

Eternatus

-Snowball dodged a flamethrower out of love and took away half of eternatus’s health with aurora beam!

-Switching to Freight, tanked a dragon pulse. Almost died to a crit dragon pulse, but got it into red with a rock slide

-Switched to Nos, took slightly less than half damage from a dragon pulse

-Killed it with ice fang

-OH GOD IT DYNAMAXED

-Time for round 2?

-ITS A RAID BATTLE WIRH HOP!

-Oh god Snowball can’t attack and Eternatus is storing power

-Time for sword and shield

-The gods dogs jesused and teleported to us! They saved Snowball!

-And now we’re in box art form!

-Now it’s a real max raid battle! We got four fighters, three of which exist solely to take hits for Snowball

-It’s potswick! Wait, no, it’s everywhere!

-God dogs have abilities that buff each other that’s cool

-Shield dog uses light screen and sword dog used howl!

-Good job Snowball, tank that G-Move

-Eat Ice, dragon fuckboy

-Quiver dance time!

-Behemoth blade and bash!

-Snowball, put this mother fucker on ice

-Okay it would have been cooler if that killed but sure that’s fine

-And sword dog steals the kill!

-Oh, I have to catch it? I’d prefer to kill it but this is fine I guess

-I used an Ultra ball, Leon. Take notes

-Welcome to the box, Eternatus. Or should I say, “XD lol haha”

-Yeah I gave it a lame name because it’s evil

-Bye bye doggies

-Time to take on Leon, for real this time. I could swap someone for XD lol haha, but that isn’t my style. I’m winning this with the team that got me here. And also Warrior

-No major changes for the final battle. Swapped Freight’s Rocky Helmet and Nos’s Assault Vest, replaced Tar Shot with Giga Impact, and evened the team out to level 61 with rare candies

-I’ve loved this game and it’s climax, but the end is here. Let’s look over who we have with us. Also the only girl which is weird

-Freight, the longest lasting member of the team who’s carried me through countless battles

-HV, who I raised from a baby and is our greatest offensive powerhouse

-Nosferatu, who was brought on after the deaths of his brother Dracula and JORSTIN. He quickly proved himself a vital member of the team

-Riot, who fought his way on by killing Mondo and proved to useful to hate

-Snowball, a late member who I spent hours bonding with the evolve

-And Warrior, who I have literally never used in battle

-It’s time to take on Leon

Champion Leon

-He’s starting with an Aegislash, so I’m swapping Snowball for Freight

-Side note, the champion wielding aegislash is so fitting

-I love this theme

-Ha! It used King’s Shield!

-Sacred sword hurt, but Heat Crash took it out

-Swapped to Haxorus, I’m swapping to Snowball

-Good thing I did, cause he used earthquake

-Risking a quiver dance

-And he killed Snowball with iron tail fuck

-Time for Warrior to justify his existence!

-Almost died to outrage and only did half hp with ice punch good job buddy

-Now, this may seem mean, but I’m not going to switch. Letting Warrior die gives me a free switch to HV, who can take out Haxorus and sweep most of Leon’s team

-With Choice Scarf HV boombursted Haxorus to death

-Inteleon! Yes! He kept it!

-Critical hit! It’s dead now

-Mr Rhine tanked a boomburst and killed HV with psychic

-FUCK I THOUGHT IT WAS ICE NOW

-Going to Nos and Dming. Max rockfall crushed it

-Okay, Dragapukt is definetly a dragon flying. It paralyzed Nos with thunderbolt, but he’s still in the green

-Enter The Charizard

-You know, I mentioned my feelings about GM Charizard earlier and I’d like to reiterate it. I hate Charizard spam, but it is a cool design and I like the idea of the champion having a Charizard as a starter and having won at ten

-OH GOD MAX OVERGROWTH NOS IS DEAD

-Switching to Freight, it used Max Rockfall but I survived and got off a rock slide. I won’t survive another one so I’m switching to Riot

-Okay, Riot is in the green and Charizard isn’t giga anymore. Now what?

-And it killed Riot with Fire Blast

-Leon Used a full restore because he’s a cunt

-Okay, this is it. I’m ending this with a rock slide. For Apollo and Dracula and Bob Murray and Idol and JORSTIN and Ophelia and Mondo and Chaos and Pluck and Echo and Snowball and Warrior and High Voltage and Nosferatu and Riot and every Pokémon in the box and Freight and for me, I’m taking you down!

-It survives with a sliver of health

-And it died to the sandstorm I created

-It’s over. It’s finally over

-I mean, I know there will be a post credits battle because every game in the past six years has had one, but it’s over

-Ten days, ten posts, fifteen fallen friends, and it is finally over

-And what a final battle it was

-“Thank you for the greatest battle I’ve ever had” same brah

-To think that I, Blinkin, a young blind British boy with a dream could defeat every powerful trainer in the country in less than a fortnight

-Okay, while the credits roll I’d like to talk about this game. This isn’t a formal review, just some thoughts. This has been the most contentious pokemon game in a while and I’d like to say that I...absolutely loved it. The new Pokémon were creative and fun, the wild area was a great idea I’d love to see expanded in future games, dynamaxing was surprisingly tactical, the characters were surprisingly engrossing. This game was amazing. It wasn’t perfect (linearity, exp share always on, lack of turning animations), but most problems I can think of are nitpicks. But, of course, there is the Cufant in the room: Dexit. Dexit was horrible for collectors and some competitive battlers, I’m not denying that, and there are deeper conversations about game freak as a company that I’d like to have on a later date, but honestly? Dexit didn’t affect my enjoyment of the game at all. I almost exclusively do challenge runs, so I rarely care about the national dex or post game. And, as a game for challenge runs, this game is amazing. X and Y are actually some of my favorite Pokémon games to play just because there are so many different Pokémon and team combinations to try. I think those games had ~450 Pokémon in their regional dex and this game had about the same, and that really goes a long way. Take Black and White, for instance. How many Pokémon were in that game. You might say 500ish, but I don’t see it that way. There are 150 Pokémon you can catch. Less than that, counting version exclusives. So yeah, there were more Pokémon programmed into that game, but you don’t see most of them without importing them from another game. Even with Dexit, this game felt like it had more Pokémon than any I’ve ever played. And again, I feel for the collectors, but I’m not going to not enjoy a great game because of an aspect that doesn’t effect me at all. Let’s get off Dexit. There are two aspects of this game that stand out as especially good. The first is the Galar region. This region was filled with so much charm and care that I could barely put it down. I love Galar, this beautiful country filled with so much goddamn British culture that I can barely breathe. The second reason I love this game is the League. This game breathed new life into the series and featured hands down the best league in any game. I felt, more than in any game, like pursuing the title of Champion was my goal. The stadiums of cheering crowds, the tournament at the end, that brutal champion battle, I loved this league.

-Anyway, lets make fun of the credits

-Oh right, the art director was the Englishman

-Legit, the other guys at Gamfreak call him the Englishman in interviews. Anyway, that explains a lot about this game

-Rock band!

-Okay, these Pokémon are all based on the idea of hardcore British rock and the credits theme is very much not that

-Hey, gym banners.

-They have the fighting banner even though she is sword exclusive

-Side note, when the mentioned minor league leaders I hoped that they would be fightable. Maybe in the post game

-Oh right, in sword the ice towns leader uses rock types. Maybe a Coalossal for the steam theme?

-Oh hey Leon banner

-Yeah I don’t have a lot to say about credits

-WOLLOO

-Huh, no post credits battle

-Okay, Full disclosure, I was spoiled that you fight Hop in the forest and assumed that that would be the post credits scene. When I booted the game up again it showed the forest so I’m going to go check it out

-Thank you for the master ball old lady foster

-Okay Hop, lets go. You vs my remaining team

Hop

-Dubwool did jack shit and went down to two Heat Crashes

-Snorlax killed Freight with a High Horsepower

-You know what? Good job, kid. You earned this

-Now to send out XD lol haha end exterminate Hops fucking bloodline

-Oh, you used a full restore, Hoppy boy? Well, I don’t see why I shouldn’t use the thirty full restore in my bag to destroy everything you love

-Eat shit Hop

-“Congrats on Beating Leon” “It was nothing”

-Oh Sonia’s the Professor now okay

-Thank you for the book, it is going on eBay

-These men have sword and shield hair what the fuck

-You gave Sonia’s book one star? I’ll fucking kill you

-Who the fuck named their sons Sordbord and Shielbert

-I hate these men and want them dead

-Oh, you’re princes? A shame I don’t have any Pokémon who know guillotine

-Okay, Nofumi but somehow even more insufferable, I’ll take you out with my god

-So were doing the aftergame now extra long post I guess

-Of course he has a sirfetched

-What is a king to a god fuckboi?

-The god is me, by the way. Not Eternatus

-Goddamn it Hop

-Okay, fuck it. I can’t beat this losers with only Eternatus. Time to sacrifice XD lol haha to Ghiratina to bring my whole team back yes this is in the Nuzlocke rules

-Are they not going to give Sonia’s girlfriend a name?

-Dynamax In trufield better be something new and cool

-Ugh, it’s just leggy onion. Whatever, lets raid it

-That sounded better in my head

-RARE CARDS I WANT THEM

-God I hate these guys

-I can exaggerate? Hell yeah!

-Piers is an ex leader? So Marnie’s a leader now cool

-So am I just going to visit all of the leaders again? Well that part can be skipped in the notes unless something cool happens

-Okay, it was only the first trio

-Good time my team are immortal zombies because Sword jackass oneshoted freight with his golispod and shield bro one shotted Echo with his Falinks

-Nameless assistant! How dare you betray us!

-Okay, I’m out of battery. Delaying this post til tomorrow so I can finish the aftergame

-What’s up It tomorrow I killed a frosslass and Haxorus and dusknoir. Saved Bede for last because he’s a prick.

-Okay, Bede beat the dynamax pokemon on his own and wants a fight cool

-Side note, Rapidash and Hatterene are both psychic fairy and it’s a miracle I didn’t loose Echo to Bede in session 9

-Burn up is such a cool move

-It was fun beating you again Bede eat shit and die

-Yamper is a good boy

-Oh, douchebags are evil because we revealed historically accuracy that makes them look bad

-Stop being mad to god dogs

-Kill him sword dog! Do it!

-Side note, it’s interesting that this game features both legendaries pretty equally

-Okay sword dog is dead now where’s the real dog god

-Shield Dog! I’m glad you’re hear, but you don’t have to waste your time saving Hop. A little stabbing could help the boy

-Also both god dogs have messed up ears that’s interesting

-Eat the bad man, Shield Dog!

-Okay, I can catch Zamazenta now

-You know what’s bullshit? If I hadn’t messed up the the naming convention Zamazenta would have a Z name. I mean, I could skip to Z, but then there’d be no Y

-The shields fixed his ear cool

-Okay, I know I caught XD lol haha here, but I’ve already dropped Nuzlocke rules so I’m catching this good boy with the master ball

-Welcome to the team, Yorrick

-Okay, lets go kick Hops ass for a final time

-Legit I would not be able to beat Hops final team if I was still Nuzlocking

-You want to be a professor, Hop? Isn’t that sweet, you think you can get a doctorate

-YES! I AM THE KING NOW. AS FIRST DECREE I ABOLISH THE MONARCHY PLEASE DONT GUILLOTINE ME

-I know that the Battle Tower and League Rematches are in this game but I’m going to end this here. Thank you so much for reading and following me on this journey

#pokemon #nuzlocke #pokemon nuzloke #pokemon shield #pokemon sword and shield

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roman-writing · 5 years

Text

no end in sight (3/?)

Fandom: World of Warcraft

Pairing: Jaina Proudmoore/Thalyssra

Rating: T

Wordcount: 5,459

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

“Her grief’s just born–not yet half-grown.”

-Euripides, Medea (trans. Philip Vellacott)

“My brooding friend, dare I say: you look bored.”

Peering around the line of her hood, Jaina raised an eyebrow at Oculeth. She was sitting by the pond just outside the entrance of Shal’Aran, cloaked and cowled to avoid the scrutiny of any Champions or Nightborne that might happen to pass by on their way to speak with the First Arcanist and join her cause. Jaina’s elbows were propped atop her knees. Her staff lay on the ground beside her. It was as close to relaxed as she had looked since arriving, and still the line of her broad shoulders remained tense.

Oculeth had emerged from the cavern to stand beside her, and now was idly watching the little water elementals she had summoned as they playfully chased a mana wyrm around the pond. Occasionally the mana wyrm would turn and hiss and give chase in return, and the elementals would scurry off in different directions. One of the elementals raced to Jaina’s side to seek shelter behind her as the mana wyrm lashed its tail in pursuit of the other two.

“Is this your idea of keeping me company? Telling me I look bored and broody?” Jaina asked Oculeth. Then she turned to the little elemental and scolded it softly, “Don’t come crying to me because you angered the wyrm.”

The water elemental seemed to wilt. Oculeth clucked his tongue, but all he said was, “It’s a compliment really. You are remarkably good at brooding, after all.”

Jaina snorted. “Thank you. I’ve been practicing a lot lately.”

“Yes. I’ve noticed it spreading to Thalyssra, too. Like a virus. A ruminating virus. Or maybe a sulking virus?”

The mana wyrm was now being chased by the other two little water elementals once more, though the elemental at her side remained in her shadow. It kept tugging at the hem of her cloak to get her attention. “I am not ‘sulking.’”

“Who said I was talking about you?” Oculeth rocked forward onto the balls of his feet and then back onto his heels. His hands were clasped behind his back. “The news from the Broken Shore would make anyone ponder their place in life.”

“Would you stop that?” Jaina snapped at the water elemental. She jabbed a finger at its fellow elementals gambolling around. “Go play!”

The water elemental looked as hangdog as she had ever seen. Slowly, it glided over to the pond and disintegrated into the rest of the water. That area of the pond bubbled away as the elemental moped.

“Oh, now that is sulking,” Oculeth said with real admiration. He tapped his hands together in a genteel kind of clapping. “Brava!”

With a sigh, Jaina rubbed at her eyes. The backs of her hands were inscribed with symmetrical patterns that glowed a soft lavender. The leylines extended all the way up her arms and terminated at her shoulders; they itched something fierce. It was everything she could do in her power to not scratch. Her arms were covered in the long sleeves of her robes, but she would need to invest in a pair of gloves soon. “I told her. I told her that the Horde leadership was volatile.”

Oculeth hummed contemplatively. “And what do we really know about this new Warchief? As much as anyone can know anything about Undeath, anyway. Most of it, from what I understand, is pure speculation.”

“I know enough,” Jaina growled. “I wouldn’t trust Sylvanas to stab me in the back unless it meant she gained something from it.”

“A survivor! How intriguing. Perhaps that’s just what we need in this hour of peril.”

Jaina lifted her head to shoot him an incredulous glare. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

He spread his hands to gesture at his own withered appearance. “Derelicts cannot afford to be picky, my Lady. And in case you haven’t noticed, we are awfully beggarly these days. Present company excluded, of course.”

“No. Present company included,” Jaina sighed. She stared glumly at the water elemental still bubbling away in the pond. The other two had stopped chasing the wyrm and instead were investigating their sad friend beneath the pond’s surface.

“Cheer up, Lady Proudmoore. It's not all that bad,” Oculeth said. “I understand your treatments are progressing nicely. You're almost bearable to be around some days.”

“Because of the leylines? Or my poor attitude?”

“Are they mutually exclusive?”

Jaina snorted. “No, they're linked pretty strongly.”

Oculeth nodded sagely. “I suspected as much.”

Cocking her head, Jaina studied the way he kept an exact distance from her despite the veneer of friendliness to the tone of their conversation. “Today is not one of those days, though.”

It was not a question.

He smiled at her, revealing sharp teeth. “Now, that is a topic not for polite company.”

“Good thing it's just me here, then.”

At that, he laughed. Unlike Valtrois’ tittering or even Thalyssra's warm smiles, Oculeth laughed fully and belly-deep. In spite of herself, Jaina could feel the corners of her mouth curl upwards. Oculeth’s eyes gleamed, bright as starlight, and he placed a hand over his heart. “My dear Lady, it is a shame your time here will be so short. I will miss your company when you leave in a few weeks.”

Jaina’s face froze. The breath congealed in her lungs and she struggled to exhale. Wooden, she turned back towards the pond with a jerk, and when she spoke her words sounded hollow to her own ears, “Is there something you needed?”

“What do you mean?” He sounded puzzled by the abrupt shift.

“You don’t need to be polite. And you don’t need to keep me company. Unless there’s something you wanted from me, I would like to be left alone.”

A shocked silence followed, broken only by the water elementals’ intermittent splashing along the surface of the pond. Then, Oculeth said in tone far more cool than before, “Actually there was a telemancy beacon in the Twilight Vineyards I was hoping you could help me with, but now I think I’ll leave it to our Horde Champions to sort out instead.”

Jaina squared her jaw, refusing to look over at him, refusing to rise to the bait. Her stomach boiled, and the leylines on the backs of her hands flared. They itched something fierce. She tucked her hands beneath her cloak and out of sight. “Good,” she rasped. “I understand they’re very keen to help now that their new Warchief thinks there’s some use for you.”

“As opposed to you, who wants nothing?” Oculeth countered.

Jaina stiffened. She twisted around to glare at him. “You would dare compare me to -?”

But before she could finish, he interrupted. “I thought you didn’t care for common courtesy. If you want to continue to wallow in self-pity, then by all means; I’ll not stop you.” He offered her a little mock bow. “Good day, Lady Proudmoore.”

With that, Oculeth stalked off back towards the nearby cave of Shal’Aran. Jaina glowered after him. When he had vanished into the shadow of Shal’Aran, she turned her glare upon the pond. The other two elementals had joined the first, and all three of them were now sulkily boiling away beneath the water’s surface. The mana wyrm was circling over that spot, drawn to the magics there.

The leyline inscriptions continued to itch. The flesh around them was raised and pink. For a long while, Jaina resisted the urge to scratch, until the mana seethed beneath her skin, until she couldn’t take it a moment longer. Swearing under her breath, Jaina rolled up her sleeves as far as they would go and dragged her fingernails all along the newest leylines until her arms and shoulders felt raw.

All the while the leylines continued to flare everywhere she touched. The mana wyrm drifted closer to her, nosing at the backs of her hands. Jaina tried to shoo it away with an irritable scowl, but it was persistently trying to nip at the sparks of mana that had begun to leap from her fingertips. Finally, with a low snarl, Jaina batted it aside with one hand.

She had not intended to send a blast of arcane energy careening through the air, potent enough to leave purple-blue scorch marks along the ground and singing the air with the stench of burnt ozone. The mana wyrm disintegrated in a whirl of glimmering ash.

“Shit,” Jaina hissed, shaking out her hands, which had begun to trail with smoke and flickering arcane flames. She had to move her cloak out of the way to keep it from catching alight.

When the mana had lessened to a controllable simmer, Jaina scrubbed at her face with a low groan. The itch had only seemed to redouble its efforts. She raked her hands through her hair, pushing the hood of her cloak back. At her feet, the water elementals continued to sulkily bubble the surface of the pond so that a few droplets of water scattered across her dark-washed leather boots.

A stab of guilt lanced through her chest. Leaning forward, Jaina carefully summoned a handful of mana-enriched ice chunks in an apologetic attempt to lure the water elementals back out into the open. The moment she was crouched over the pond however, a spray of water was spat directly into her face.

“Alright.” Jaina dropped the mana-enriched ice into the water, then wiped at her face. “I suppose I deserved that.”

“Stop scratching.”

In mulish defiance, Jaina continued to scratch with renewed vigour. “It itches.”

Valtrois rolled her eyes. “I can see that. Move over that way, won’t you?”

Gamely, Jaina shuffled over a few more steps. The ruins of Tel’anor crumbled within sight, great marble structures once gleaming and now gripped with vines. Every now and then, Jaina could have sworn she saw something shambling in the undergrowth, but when she glanced around there was nothing to be found.

“Oculeth was right: you seem more distracted of late.”

At that, Jaina’s head whipped around and she scowled at Valtrois. “What? Nevermind. Did you see something over there just now?”

“See what?” Valtrois deadpanned. She did not even bother looking in the direction Jaina was pointing.

“I’m serious. I don’t want us being attacked.”

“This place is a mass grave,” Valtrois explained with a much put-upon sigh, crossing her arms. “Ghosts. Spirits. Harpies, if we head further north, but we’re not going to do that. Now, can you move that way again? We still haven’t found it.”

Jaina took another step to the side, and immediately the inscribed tattoos on her skin began to burn and glow. With a startled little high-pitched noise, she leapt back again.

Valtrois rushed forward, her expression alight. “No, no! Go back! That’s it!”

“It really itches,” Jaina complained again even as she stepped directly onto the leyline hidden in the earth once more. Her tattoos lit up again, and she scratched at them furiously. “Can you hurry up? I feel like a Winter Veil tree over here.”

“I don’t know what that means, and I don’t care to.” Valtrois dropped to one knee and began to drive what appeared to be a stake into the ground at Jaina’s feet.

Digging beneath her robes to scratch at the inscripted tattoos on her lower back, Jaina grumbled, “Remind me why I agreed to help you again?”

“Maybe you’re bored out of your mind and have nothing better to do with your time. Maybe you angered Oculeth with some misplaced words. Maybe Thalyssra is too devoted to professionalism to allow herself to form attachments to a patient. Maybe I’m the only one that is willing to spend time with you.” Valtrois rose to her feet and dusted off her hands. “Or maybe you just enjoy my good looks and sunny disposition.”

“I’m going to take a wild guess and say it’s not the last one.”

“And here I thought you were going to ask me to braid your hair,” Valtrois drawled. She pointed to another place on the ground a few paces away. “Be a dear and go try finding me another leyline over there somewhere.”

Jaina strode in the direction indicated. “Would you braid my hair, if I asked?”

Valtrois trailed after her, watching carefully for any sign of the leylines on Jaina’s skin. “Oh, sure. And afterwards we can talk about the latest fashion trends, and how beautiful they looked on those girls by the canals.”

“And here I thought you’d only want to talk about boys.”

“Please. One of us has to have good taste.”

The closer Jaina drew to the invisible leyline, the more the itching intensified. She slowed her steps, inching her way along at a glacial pace; she was braced as if for impact.

“Just -!” Valtrois raised her hand as if to clasp Jaina by the arm and steer her to the right area, but she froze before they touched. For a moment her eyes were wide. She very quickly snatched her hand back and snapped, “Just hurry up already.”

Jaina could feel her own expression harden. With it came that familiar burning sensation scratching at the space beneath her sternum. She swallowed it down, walking along until she found the leyline and she flared with mana. “What’s the rush?”

“Some of us have important projects to work on.” Valtrois knelt down to insert another tap into the ground, remaining just far enough away that no movement would see her and Jaina accidentally touch. She grumbled half to herself, “Thalyssra’s time would be better spent doing something of actual use, instead of wasting it on that so-called ‘research’ of hers.”

This time, Jaina stepped off the leyline after marking it with a scuff on the ground with her shoe instead of remaining in place. It didn’t seem to help with the itching, however. She scratched. “What exactly is her research?”

“A flight of fancy,” Valtrois replied with a derisive sneer, tossing a stone aside to dig the tap into the ground. “If she thinks she can get anything out of that -” She cut herself off, eyeing Jaina askance. “She hasn’t told you anything, has she?”

Jaina’s silence was answer enough.

Standing upright, Valtrois waved Jaina in the direction of the next leyline for them to tap. “In that case, I’ll not be the one to spill the wine, so to speak. Suffice it to say, we should be focusing on strengthening our new alliances, building our forces, and carving a path forward to retake Suramar itself. But for now I’ll settle for feeding the growing arcan’dor with leyline energy.”

Jaina marked the next leyline when the mana beneath her skin began to glow and itch. “You really think the Horde will be good allies?” she asked, incredulous.

“Honestly, it doesn’t matter to me. So long as we retake the city and depose Elisande, that’s good enough.” Valtrois had to clear more stones from the earth that Jaina had marked. “At least this new Warchief of theirs is an elf.”

“She hasn't been an elf in a long time,” Jaina said darkly.

“And you aren’t human, but that doesn’t stop you from acting like one.”

Jaina stared down at where Valtrois was driving the final tap into place. Her mouth went dry as cotton. “What do you mean?”

Valtrois gave a vague gesture with one hand over her shoulder in Jaina’s direction while she continued to work. “Let me guess. Arcane energies nearly ripped apart the very molecular structure of your body? And you barely survived using only what power you had at your disposal? And ever since you’ve experienced headaches, and uncontrollable mana leaks, and draining yourself seems to take a far greater toll on you than it ever has before?”

Slowly, Jaina nodded, but Valtrois wasn’t looking at her. She had to clear her throat to croak out a raspy, “Yes.”

Valtrois shrugged, and had to knock the tap into place with the heel of her palm. “You’re basically partway to becoming an Ethereal at this point. I’d wager that without this treatment, the remaining shell of your physical body would steadily continue to waste away until nothing but a mass of pure, irregular energy remained. If it ever does come to that, by the way, I could craft enchanted wrappings for you that should keep you bound to a humanoid shape.” Her voice had taken on an excited edge at the idea. She paused where she was kneeling on the ground and tapped at her chin in what should have been an elegant post but for her withered appearance. “Wasn’t the mana bomb detonated quite recently? I feel like I just heard about it the other day.”

Still reeling from what Valtrois was saying, Jaina said numbly, “Only if you count two years as being recent.”

“That’s like no time at all,” Valtrois scoffed, as flippant as ever. Oddly it was far more comforting than the response Jaina usually received. Then, Valtrois paused, her brows drawing down sharply. “And you’re only just now seeking out treatment?”

“No,” Jaina said between grit teeth. “It’s just that no other treatments have been successful. And I’m unconvinced this one will be effective yet.”

“Oh, it will be effective. That’s a given.”

“I wish I had your confidence,” Jaina drawled.

Valtrois flashed her a smile. “Many do.”

It was ridiculous enough that Jaina huffed with laughter despite herself.

Pushing herself upright, Valtrois placed her hands on her hips and surveyed their work. “I’d say that was done. Let’s start heading back to Shal’Aran. If I don’t get you back in time for your next potion of purging for tomorrow’s procedure, Thalyssra will box my ears.”

At the thought of drinking another one of those vile potions, Jaina made a face. “Great. We can’t miss that.”

“It’s either the potion, or allowing your body to be slowly eaten away by the very energies that sustain it.”

“At this point, I’m almost ready for those enchanted wrappings of yours.”

Together they walked back towards Shal’Aran. Their bantering continued, parry and riposte. Jaina engaged in the verbal back-and-forth, hoping to distract herself from what Valtrois had said, but she could not shake the chill that walked the length of her spine and settled behind her gut.

“I would like to ask you a question before today’s procedure, if you’ll permit it.”

Jaina’s hands paused in unbuttoning her robes. A few candles flickered around the perimeter of the space, just inside the screens. There was no draught this far beneath the ground, yet the candles cast their glow so that her shadow seemed to dance behind her. She did not glance over at Thalyssra, and continued disrobing. “Go ahead.”

Thalyssra was seated at her usual spot on the ground beside the low table, waiting for Jaina to lie down. For a moment all she did was finish arranging her tools just so on the table. Then she asked, “Do you want people to know you are here?”

Stepping out of her robes, Jaina folded them over the side of one of the screens. She considered the question before answering, “If you’re asking because my being here may adversely affect your recruitment campaign, then -”

“I am asking because I want to do everything in my power to comply with your wishes during your stay here,” Thalyssra interrupted her. She folded her hands in her lap and glanced up, cocking her head. “You will need to disrobe fully for this procedure, I’m afraid.”

Jaina started to pull her shift free, but stopped. “Why do you care about my wishes? You’ve only known me for a month.”

Thalyssra raised her eyebrows, but otherwise her expression gave away nothing. “I care,” she said simply, and offered no other explanation.

Jaina’s jaw clenched. “Well, I don’t. If people see me, then so be it.”

“And yet you draw up the hood of your cloak and make your presence scarce any time someone else enters Shal’Aran. So, I will ask again. Do you want people to know you are here?”

Rather than answer, Jaina curled her hands into fists around the hems of her shift. The fabric bunched and strained between her knuckles.

When eventually Thalyssra spoke again, her voice was soft. “Caring is not a flaw, Lady Proudmoore.”

“Don’t -” Jaina had to swallow down a hard lump in her throat. “Don’t call me that.”

“What would you prefer I call you? Archmage, perhaps?”

Jaina opened her mouth, and the words ‘I don’t care’ almost tumbled out in spite of herself. Clearing her throat, she said, “No. Just - Just Jaina.”

Thalyssra inclined her head. Then she reached beneath the table and pulled out what appeared to be a half-mask, the kind that only covered the eyes and was worn by nobles to parties. She held it out to Jaina. “I acquired this and others like it from a contact of mine in the city. You do not have to wear it unless you want to, of course.”

Slowly, Jaina reached out to take it. She turned it over in her hands. The silk streamers were dusky and delicate, but the enchantments woven into the ceramic face were expert. Jaina could feel the illusion magic trying to cotton onto her fingers even as she studied the mask. The leylines inscribed on the backs of her hands gleamed in retaliation, but did not battle against the enchantments.

Jaina placed the mask on the ground beside her boots, and murmured, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Glancing away, Jaina pulled off her shift and small clothes. She tossed them atop her boots until she stood in the screened off area, naked. She had never been particularly prudish, but suddenly Jaina was glad it was only her and Thalyssra for this, the third of their procedures. The screens didn't seem so superfluous anymore.

“Where are we starting today?” Jaina asked as she clambered atop the stone table just as she had for the last two sessions.

“Your stomach. Then your thighs. I will stop just above your knees. There is a blanket for you to cover the rest if you’re cold. I will try to be quick, but this is the largest of the procedures we have undertaken so far. It will not be over as fast as you would like.”

Jaina reached for the blanket in question, which was folded neatly beneath the low-slung table, and draped it around her shoulders before lying back down. Thalyssra was already beginning to gather regular black ink onto the nib of a quill. She reached out with her spare hand, but let it hover over Jaina’s abdomen in a silent question without touching her.

Sighing towards the ceiling, Jaina shifted so that the blanket wasn’t tickling her nose. “You don’t need my permission to touch me every time we do this.”

“Your reaction to my touching you when you first arrived leads me to believe otherwise.”

“I don’t -” Jaina cut herself off again. She could not resist the urge to shift the weight of her shoulders and bare hips atop the table. Finally she admitted, “People don’t touch me often these days.”

She could recall the last hug she had received from Vereesa. She could recall Khadgar seeing her off from Dalaran, his eyes full of a sickening pity as he reached out to clasp her shoulder only to let his hand fall away instead. Even Modera kept her distance. And Kalec -

She didn’t want to think about Kalec.

Jaina would be lying if she said she didn't, in some twisted selfish way, look forward to these sessions with Thalyssra. There was pain, but she could almost justify that -- tell herself she deserved it, or that it was a necessary step in the process. There was also someone who touched her unflinchingly, who spoke to her without any guises. And each time they completed a procedure, the next became easier, more bearable. Jaina had remained lucid for the entirety of the second session, and suspected this time would be no different.

In silence, Thalyssra bent over her. She gently grasped Jaina’s waist and began to draw dots at various intervals with dark, glistening ink. Jaina struggled to lie still, knowing that it would only make things worse. With her gaze she traced the complex patterns carved into the stone ceiling above her, over and over, until she knew every twist and turn. All the while, Thalyssra worked, never erring, never faltering.

“How is your research going on reversing your own condition?” Jaina asked in an attempt to distract herself.

“It goes,” Thalyssra said sans enthusiasm, concentrating instead on marking Jaina’s stomach and thighs.

“That sounds promising.”

“Mmm,” Thalyssra hummed, her eyes flicking up at Jaina’s dry tone. “If you must know, I have reached an unexpected roadblock. I am close to overcoming this barrier, but I’m afraid I cannot do so without some more advanced tools.”

“Have you tried dynamite?” Jaina drawled.

With a huff of laughter, Thalyssra placed the quill aside, and pulled the moonglow ink closer. A gesture and a whispered spell, and Jaina’s entire lower body went numb. Then Thalyssra picked up the copper-tipped needle and dipped it into the ink vial. “You joke, but you’re not far off. I used to possess an arcane amplifier that would allow me to do what I require. Unfortunately, I had to leave my previous home in a bit of hurry for reasons I don’t think I need to explain.”

“People forcing you from your home; I wonder what that’s like.”

“I see you’re one of those who uses self-deprecating humour as a form of coping. Whatever helps.” Thalyssra tapped the needle against the lip of the vial. “Might I suggest being kinder to yourself. And don’t move.”

Jaina drew in a deep breath as the first of the leyline inscriptions began. The moment the needle pierced her skin, she could feel the mana welling up to answer it, threatening to bleed out into the open air.

Three more sessions of this. Not long ago, she had been counting down the weeks to when she could leave. Now, barely halfway through the experimental procedures, Jaina found herself staring down the barrel of what awaited her at the end of all this. She didn’t like what she saw.

“Where is your old home?”

Thalyssra did not pause in her work, but she did steal a quick glance up at her. “It will be heavily guarded.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Jaina pointed out. She tilted her head down to watch the steady movement Thalyssra’s hand guiding the bone needle.

“You do realise that this transaction has already been fulfilled. You do not need to repay me any more than you have already done.”

Jaina swallowed and looked away. “I know.”

Moving to the other side of Jaina’s stomach, Thalyssra took her time carving the symmetrical inscriptions onto Jaina’s skin. She worked in silence for a long while, long enough that Jaina nearly opened her mouth to speak again -- to apologise, perhaps, or to ask the question again; she did not rightly know herself -- but finally Thalyssra murmured, “My home is a manor beyond the Twilight Vineyards along the northeastern beach of Suramar Bay. It can be reached by either land or by sea.”

For some indefinable reason, Jaina breathed a sigh of relief. “Then I’ll go when this session is over.”

At that, Thalyssra frowned and insisted, “At least three days after this procedure is finished, if you please. I don’t want you collapsing unexpectedly at my old house.”

“Yes, I imagine my unconscious body would clash with the decor.”

“It would be a scandal,” Thalyssra agreed. Though her words remained level, one corner of her mouth curled upward in warm amusement.

“I can imagine the talk at all the masquerade parties in the city.” Jaina gestured with one hand from beneath the blanket as though proclaiming headline news to a crowd. “Human war criminal found unconscious on First Arcanist’s bedroom floor. The First Arcanist herself was unavailable for comment.”

Thalyssra played along. “I would certainly be hard pressed to explain myself. ‘Grand Magistrix, I don’t know how this woman appeared in my bedroom! I’ve never seen her before in my life!’”

“On the bright side, it would make your insurrection look like small change in comparison.”

“Bold of you to assume my kin would deign to look away from their mirrors long enough to listen to tall tales about human war criminals. Or anything that happens outside of their own little bubble, for that matter.”

“Where I’m from, people don’t need the threat of the Legion as an excuse to ignore the rest of the world.”

“And yet you broke away from that cycle. You care.” The clink of copper against glass as Thalyssra gathered more ink into the needle. “You should be proud of such an accomplishment.”

That burning in Jaina’s chest had risen to her eyes now. She had to blink it away. “I just wish I could have done more.”

“Don’t we all?”

Jaina thought about her interactions with Ethereals in the past. She could dimly remember from her childhood a being of blue light bound with strips of glowing cloth with a slash of embers for a mouth and eyes bright as the distant void. They had crouched down before her in a shadowy corner of the Boralus markets, hand outstretched, offering her something she could not even recall wanting at the time. Whatever nine year old children wanted; an item from the nearby shop that her brother had refused to buy her, perhaps. The cloth bandages of its fingers had been almost velvety in texture when she had taken their hand. She had been about to open her mouth and accept whatever bargain it was offering, when Derek had found them.

She couldn’t ever recall him being more furious. The Ethereal had bowed and acted contrite even as Derek stood between them, shielding Jaina with his body and standing tall. And all the while the Ethereal had watched Jaina with a cold smile.

The mana was swarming beneath her skin. It was rushing along the paths previously etched, the sloughing away once more. Her palms were starting to prickle with sweat. Jaina closed her eyes and breathed shakily, “I really hope this works.”

“For your sake, Jaina, so do I.”

Three days later, Jaina approached Oculeth’s little workshop on the opposite side of the main circular room of Shal’Aran. He did not glance up from the device he was tinkering with when she crossed her arms and leaned against a nearby wall. Behind her the arcan’dor sapling was branching towards the ceiling, its trunk slender, fragile, and pale.

For a while, Jaina remained silent while she watched Oculeth work. He persisted in ignoring her. She cocked her head when, with an expert flourish, he managed to make the metallic device hum with energy.

Only then did he speak, and even then he still refused to look at her. “Do you require a teleport, Lady Proudmoore? Preferably away from here?”

He set the device aside and pulled a notebook closer to scrawl a few calculations into the margins.

“Yes, actually,” Jaina said. “I was going to Thalyssra’s old estate to fetch some items for her, and thought I might stop by the Twilight Vineyards on my way back.”

He blinked in surprise, and when he looked up at her, it was with a mischievous grin on his face. “Well, why didn’t you say that sooner? Have you decided to become a part of our little venture?”

“Unofficially.”

Jaina pulled out the enchanted mask and placed it over her face. She tied the silk ribbons around the back of her head. The moment the knot was in place, she could feel the whisper of an illusion draping from her crown like a veil.

Oculeth had scraped back his chair and stood before her, admiring the illusion. “My, don’t you look the part!”

Jaina turned over her hands. Her fingers were longer, her palms broader, and her skin a twilit hue. The same mana-rich tattoos that were inscribed into her own skin still shone through, but rather than make the illusion ripple and curl like the edges of burnt parchment, it only seemed to enhance the effect. Her once drab Kul Tiran style robes and cloak had been similarly replaced by the latest finery from among the Nightborne nobility. She did not need a mirror to know that she now wore a face that could walk through Suramar as if she owned the place.

“Right!” Jaina tugged at the lapels of her elegant, gold-trimmed coat and stood taller. “Let’s get to work.”

#jaina proudmoore #thalyssra #first arcanist thalyssra #jaina proudmoore/thalyssra #world of warcraft #wow #roman writes #what am I even doing? I don't know

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icymapletree · 5 years

Text

#20: cursed

a crazy old lady and a tarnished gold watch

Read on Ao3

A/N: i totally forgot to post this when i uploaded it on ao3 oops

Early in the morning, Peter tapped his nail on the window of the eighty-fifth floor of Stark Tower. Tony smiled and shook his head fondly, putting his coffee on the counter then telling FRIDAY to open the window for the boy. Peter scampered in, sticking to the ceiling before dropping down with a backflip that made Tony’s stomach lurch.

“How was patrol, kid?” Tony asked, patting the spot next to him on the couch.

Peter tore off his mask and leapt onto the couch, ruffling his own curls. “Bleck, mask hair,” he mumbled before looking at Tony. “It was good. This crazy old lady gave me a cool watch, wanna see?”

“How many times do I have to tell you to not take things from strange old ladies?”

“You haven’t told me that often,” Peter rolled his eyes, “But she wasn’t strange, she was crazy, Mr Stark, there’s a difference.”

“Sure there is, kid,” Tony snorted.

A few minutes of silence passed in which Tony returned to the kitchen to retrieve his coffee and turned on the news at a low volume as Peter pulled out his phone.

Peter cleared his throat. Tony ignored him, focusing on the news anchor covering the latest things that the Champions, Avengers and other various superhero teams around the city had done.

Peter cleared his throat again.

“Yes, Peter?”

“You wanna see my watch?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Sure. Show me the watch.”

Peter pulled the watch out of his pocket like an overexcited puppy, a wide smile on his face as he passed the tarnished gold watch to his mentor. Tony grumbled as he reached for it, his fingers barely brushing it when -

Everything went dark.

When he finally came to, Tony woke up on the wrong side of the couch. Blinking the blurriness out of his eyes, he saw himself sitting across from himself (?) in extreme detail. He could see his own pores and the dips and imperfections in his skin. While he was studying himself from afar, unsure of how to proceed, his body (Peter?) shot up in surprise and the sunglasses that were clipped to his sweatshirt clinked to the floor.

“Tony?” his voice squeaked.

“Yeah, bud, it’s me. I’m assuming that’s you, Pete,” Peter’s voice answered. Tony looked at his hands, they were really little - and covered in red spandex.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Peter rubbed his face with his (Tony’s?) hands, “Why does this always happen to me?”

Tony tried to raise one eyebrow but found that he couldn’t. “This has happened to you before?”

Peter nodded his head with squinty eyes that didn’t look right on Tony’s face. “It was with Ms Marvel. You and Pepper were out of town. Didn’t want to worry you.”

“Those kids seem sweet. Aren’t her and that other Spider-Boy together?”

Peter rampantly shook Tony’s head. “No, no, no. The other Spider-Man is in a cross-dimensional relationship with another Spider-Person. I think.” Peter’s eyes began to dart around the room. “Also, I think you need glasses.”

Tony chuckled. “I do not need glasses. You just see so well. I can literally see a mosquito on the wall of the kitchen.” He furrowed his brow. “And I can hear everything that’s happening in R&D? And your heartbeat?”

“If you tried hard enough, you could probably hear the heartbeat of someone in the lobby.” Peter held up his hand in warning. “Don’t try to, though. You’ll get a nasty headache.”

“Huh,” Tony sighed, “We should probably work on getting this fixed.”

“It says a lot that we aren’t freaking out about this. When did my life become so weird? When did this become normal?” Peter grumbled, throwing his arms up in surrender.

“We should get ahold of Dr Strange. Are you up for a walk, kid?”

…

Peter slouched as he walked, keeping his hands in his pockets. The posture looked strange on Tony, who usually held himself high. Tony’s confident stance looked almost as weird on Peter as the anxiety ridden stature looked on Tony.

Both of them kept mostly to themselves as they walked, but it was in their nature to not let silence settle for too long.

“Mr Stark?”

“Yeah, underoos?”

“I’m sorry that this happened to you.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, kid. This sucks for you, too.”

Peter gave a little nod.

“And it’s not your fault,” he added.

Peter nodded again, smaller this time.

They began to climb up the stairs to the sanctum.

…

“So the watch was cursed?” Peter asked Strange with Tony’s voice as he widened his eyes.

“No, not cursed. Rather charged with the negative energies of an ancient father and son,” Strange said as he dusted a few items in a display case.

“That sounds cursed to me,” Tony laughed, flicking one of the tassels on Stephen’s sleeves.

“Once again, not cursed. But, it is cursed that I have to witness you two in each other’s bodies. It’s really kind of creepy.”

“It’s not!” they both shouted at the same time.

Stephen exaggeratedly shuddered. “That’s what I mean. But anyway, it is temporary.”

“How long?”

“Most likely three days.”

“Three days?!” Peter said, arching his neck forward with slightly parted lips. He ran his fingers through Tony’s hair. “I have an engineering presentation and a date with MJ!”

“We’ll be fine, kid. You’re forgetting that I’m an engineer, married, and it can’t be too hard to thwip, right?”

Peter widened his eyes. “We’re screwed.”

…

The two of them sat on the couch in silence, taking in the current situation.

“We should probably call Pepper.”

“Probably,” Peter agreed.

Neither of them made the move to call her, and they continued to sit there until the elevator doors opened, revealing Pepper who was holding Morgan’s hand.

“Miss Morgan wanted to see you guys,” Pepper laughed.

“Daddy! Petey!” she shouted, taking short fast strides unknowingly into Peter’s arms.

Peter sat the small girl on his lap. “Hey… uh… Morgoona.”

“I really missed you, daddy” she said, looking up at Peter with wide eyes.

“I missed you too, baby,” he stuttered, eyes darting from Tony to Pepper and back again.

Pepper tilted her head and squinted her eyes, mouthing something to Peter’s body. Tony shrugged, mouthing a couple words back. Pepper carefully walked towards Peter and scooped her daughter out of his arms.

“Hey!” Morgan said, kicking her legs in protest, “We just got here!”

“We’re gonna go see Aunt Nat downstairs for a little bit, then you can come say hi again,” Pepper said softly, pushing her daughter’s hair behind her ear and placing a light kiss on her face.

“Darn,” Morgan said, pressing her face into her mom’s shoulder and sticking her tongue out at the two still occupying the living room.

Peter stared at Tony while they waited for the return of Pepper.

“Stop it,” Tony said, glaring and looking away.

“Stop what?”

“Looking at me with my body. It’s weird.”

Peter rolled his eyes and the corners of his lips turned down.

“Woah,” Tony said, feigning shock, “Teenage angst does not look good on me.”

Peter barked a laugh and then the elevator dinged.

“What the hell is going on here?” she asked, hands on her hips.

“Well, he’s me… and I’m him,” Tony stuttered.

“This isn’t my first body-swap rodeo,” Peter announced, “And we’ll be back to normal in three days. That’s like, ten hours in dog time.”

“Have you forgotten about your presentation in two days?”

Tony pursed his lips and held up a finger. “The presentation… may have slipped my mind.”

Peter’s hands leapt to his head and his breathing sped up. “Oh my god. I have to be genius billionaire philanthropist Tony Stark and not just family man Tony Stark.”

“Is that somehow… worse?”

“No, no, I idolized that you, there’s nothing wrong with that you. But onstage, you are just so poignant - and I’m just… not.”

“Kid, you just used poignant in casual conversation. I believe in you, you’ll be alright.”

Peter smiled back. “Thank you, Mr Stark.”

“I’m sure I’ll regret this later because of the bizzaro factor, but -” Tony leaned in for a hug.

Peter leaned Tony’s head into the crook of his own neck. It was, in fact, quite awkward, both of them not knowing how to navigate a swapped hug. When they pulled away, Pepper wore a contorted expression of confusion.

“What?” they both asked.

“That was the strangest thing I’ve ever seen… and somehow the most heartwarming.”

…

“Alright, I think we should come up with some rules,” Peter announced, clearing his throat as he marched into the common area.

“I think what we’ve been doing has been working pretty well. Ignore it and hope it goes away.”

“I can’t hide from Morgan all day,” Peter groaned, looking at the stack of Post-it notes that he had written a few notes on, “And I think most of the hesitation for the two of us comes from the fact that there are no set rules.”

Tony shrugged and raised his eyebrows. He shut his laptop, looking at Peter. “Fair.”

“Considering this is three days, we can’t hold it the whole time. No looking.”

“No looking where?”

Peter dropped his stack of Post-it notes and blushed all the way up to his ears. “You know,” he said with a fumbling gesture as he bent over to pick up the notes.

Tony chuckled. “I do know, kid.”

“I also think that we shouldn’t tell Morgan. She already has an assassin for an aunt, no need to confuse her poor kindergarten teacher any more.”

Tony nodded in agreement.

“I can’t think of any more that aren’t already common sense,” Peter shrugged, scribbling a few things down.

“Don’t worry, kid, I won’t do anything you wouldn’t do.”

“I’ll stay out of the gray area,” Peter nodded decisively.

“What - what gray area?”

“The place where I operate… just, nevermind.”

Tony made a move to ruffle Peter’s hair, but then backed off when he realized that it would be his own hair. Instead, he cleared his throat, pulling his hand away abruptly. “So, uh, what’s your first official action as Tony Stark?”

“I’ve been Tony Stark for,” he checked his watch, “three hours. I think my first official action as Tony Stark was snoring when we passed out.”

“I don’t snore.”

“Tell that to the rest of the guy’s tent from when we went camping. Clint, Scott, Rhodey, and I all beg to differ.”

Tony indignantly grumbled.

…

“Stop!” Tony swatted at Peter’s hands, “I like your curls. Don’t gel them.”

“I won’t gel mine if I don’t gel yours.”

“That sentence is so trippy in this context,” Tony shook his head, “Remind me why we have to go on this date?”

“Because MJ says I have, quote, ‘chronic flakiness’ and if I miss this dinner there’ll be some ‘unspecified consequences.’”

“Did you tell her what the issue is?”

Peter nodded, reaching for a comb. “You know what her response was? ‘I’ll bring my mom so you don’t look to weird bringing your surrogate father along to a date.’”

Tony laughed.

“Oh my god,” Peter breathed, “I’m meeting MJ’s mom for the first time in Tony Stark’s body.”

Realization washed over Tony.

“We’re royally screwed, aren’t we?” Peter asked.

“Yeah, kiddo, I think we are.”

They finished up in the bathroom with only a few threats from Peter about shaving his beard. Afterward, the two of them rushed around the penthouse in a flurry of movement. Peter seemed to trip a lot more in Tony’s body, to which Tony asked Peter to ‘please don’t break me.’ Before they left, Peter approached Tony with an unbuttoned suit jacket on and a limp tie in one hand.

“I don’t know how,” Peter shrugged, looking at Tony with pleading eyes.

“I gotcha,” Tony smiled, tying the tie and guiding Peter through each of the steps to which Peter enthusiastically nodded.

Tony took a step back and tilted his head to admire his handiwork. “I always imagined this moment. Never thought we would be body swapped for it, though.”

“It wouldn’t be an ‘us’ moment if it wasn’t slightly strange, Tony.”

Tony’s heart melted a little bit at the use of his first name. “Yeah, underoos, I guess you’re right.”

...

Tony could hear the swing of the door from their spot in the back of the restaurant. It was a quaint little place, nice enough for casual dress clothes. Tony, in Peter’s body, was wearing a button up and jeans. Peter, in Tony’s body, was wearing one of Tony’s more casual suits and a tie.

“They’re coming,” Tony warned in a whisper.

“Oh my god, I’m so nervous - like, how do adults even act -”

Michelle’s mom appeared in front of the booth, holding out her hand that Peter took. “Nice to meet you, Mr Stark. I’m aware you are attending because of a recent injury Peter sustained?”

Tony snorted in Peter’s body.

“Uh, yeah, that would be correct. Just worried about my boy,” Peter smiled, nodding, “And, please, call me Tony.”

“I’m Amanda.”

Peter looked at MJ. “Nice to... meet you, Michelle,” he stuttered, “Peter’s told me so much about you.”

MJ looked between Peter and Tony, a smirk growing on her face. “Likewise, Mr Stark.”

Peter and Michelle looked at each other, a conversation passing in limited expressions. Tony and Amanda met eyes, an unreadable look passing through her gaze. Tony was aware of how this looked, and shrugged.

Tony coughed in Peter’s direction and Michelle laughed. Amanda furrowed her brow and Peter’s eyes went wide as he looked away from MJ.

“So, uh, what do you do for a living?” Peter asked, voice dripping with awkwardness.

“I’m a psychologist,” Amanda nodded, “Always wanted to be one when I was little.”

“My daughter Morgan says that she wants to be a psychologist,” Peter said, “But I wouldn’t put it past her to want to be an ice cream scooper by the end of next week.”

Amanda chuckled. “I wasn’t aware you had a daughter.”

Aw, shit.

Thankfully, the conversation was interrupted by Tony spitting his water out all over the table as MJ watched, cackling lightly into her hand.

“Ton - Peter, what the hell?”

“It’s nothing, Mr Stark, I promise. MJ just told a funny joke, honest.”

Peter tilted his head. Man, Tony did a good impression of him.

“Alright, kiddo,” Peter sighed.

The conversation trudged on. Man, what did adults even talk about? Taxes?

They ordered their food and at some point, Amanda excused herself to head to the restroom.

When she rounded the corner, Tony’s fake smile fell. “Peter, restrain your girlfriend. She’s interrogating me over here.”

“I am not interrogating!”

“You definitely are.”

“Besides, my mom doesn’t suspect a thing. There’s nothing better than spicing up your Saturday date with a little body swap.”

Peter screwed up his face. “In any other context, I would be thoroughly disgusted.”

Tony nodded. “Hell, I’m thoroughly disgusted in this context.”

MJ shrugged, mischievously sipping her drink. Michelle’s mom soon returned and they ordered their food.

“So, how did this happen?” Michelle whispered to Tony.

“A crazy old lady and a gold watch.”

“Ah, the usual. How long will this be a thing?”

“Till Tuesday morning. Does Peter not tell you anything?”

“He usually tells me the basics until we can see each other,” Michelle rolled her eyes, “So you have to go to school?”

Tony blinked. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

“Oh my god. This is the best thing that’s ever happened.”

“I politely disagree,” Tony said, then inhaled and grabbed his water,” Do you ever think Peter will tell your mom about his arachnid issue?”

“Maybe when we’re older,” she shrugged, “Bizzare things like this would be easier to explain. And so would the fact that I visit him in the hospital with a gunshot wound like every other week.”

The rest of the dinner progressed without much issue. When the check came, Peter did a surprisingly good imitation of Tony’s signature that briefly made Tony reassess his choices. They left the restaurant under the cool moonlight.

Michelle’s mom began to speak once they were out of Tony and Peter’s hearing range.

“You know, Michelle, they say that Tony Stark is full of charisma, but I just don’t see it.”

Michelle threw her head back with a laugh.

…

“So you make the sign for love to release the webs -”

“I know how your web shooters work, Peter.”

Peter crossed his arms. “Fine. Then tell me how mastering my stickiness is going.”

“Great,” Tony grumbled, trying not to remember a couple hours ago when he got Morgan’s coloring book pages stuck all over him.

Night had fallen over the pair, and the only thing illuminating the room were the holo screens with a complete detail of Peter’s spider powers. The skyline was seen in a silhouette behind them.

“Do you stick to everything?” Tony asked.

Peter shrugged. “I can stick stick to everything. That doesn’t mean I do.”

“Huh,” Tony pursed his lips, “Can we come back to this? I want to teach you how to use the suit”

“When would I ever say no to that?”

After a demonstration from Tony and after the initial shock from the fact that he was coded to the Iron Man suit wore off, Peter was ready to give it a try.

“Hold your arms out at your side - there, good. Thrusters at five percent please, FRI.”

Peter slowly raised off the ground, navigating the lab using flailing arms.

“I’m doing it!” he shouted, but then slammed into the wall behind him.

Tony helped Peter up, smiling. “You know what, I think we’d both do better in the field.”

“You’re kidding.”

…

“You’re not kidding! This is awesome!” Peter cheered, hovering just off of the helipad over the ninety-six story drop to the ground.

Tony looked at his wrists. “Alright kid, teach me how to thwip.”

“Okay, uh,” Peter used the thrusters to turn and look out at the city. He searched the buildings with his eyes. “It’s just a leap of faith. You see that apartment building? That’s where you’re gonna aim your web. Double tap to release when you’re ready to start your next web line.”

“Alright, here goes nothing...” Tony began to run to the edge of the building -

“Wait, wait, wait! Don’t forget to use all that strength in you legs.”

“Okay, kiddo, I got this.”

Peter held his breath and turned his head a little bit but still kept his eyes on Tony, who restarted his run to the edge of the building.

The man flung himself off of the building, whooping as he went and sticking a web to the building Peter had pointed out. Peter watched him extend another web out before stopping on the roof of a hotel.

Peter zoomed down to meet him, only veering a little too far to the right.

“That’s so strange! It’s like, in my DNA!”

“It’s in my DNA, so yeah, right now it is in yours.”

“Enough cheek, kid, let’s go punch some muggers.”

Tony whooped again and flung himself off of the building. Peter shook his head fondly and followed after him at breakneck speed.

After a successful night of webbing up criminals, they were eating early morning sandwiches thanks to the kind folk at Inwood’s Bodega. Peter always felt bad when he got sandwiches somewhere other than Delmar’s, but Mr Delmar would have his identity figured out in a second, even when it was Tony in his body.

“What time is it, Mr Stark?”

“Five o’clock in the AM,” Tony said after asking Karen.

Peter’s blood ran cold. “May’s coming by the tower in two hours to pick me up.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Oh shit is right. Race you back to the tower!”

“I don’t think a race is the right answer to that issue, but I digress,” Tony sighed, shooting a web at the building across the avenue.

…

“Okay, so, we have to present this the right way or we are both getting in so much trouble.”

“Pep didn’t get us in trouble.”

“Miss Potts also knows that these kinds of things are in the job requirement. May doesn’t understand that yet.”

“How long has she known, again?”

“Like, a year. But she still doesn’t -”

The elevator dinged and the doors opened, revealing May and Happy having a light conversation. Both of them looked to the pair on the couch, noticing that Peter and Tony were altogether too stiff for anything not to have happened.

“Hey, May,” Peter smiled, “Now don’t freak out, but I’m actually Peter. And he’s actually Tony. Butitwillbefixedbyintwodays.”

Tony snorted. “That’s your idea of tactful?”

“It was all I got!” Peter whispered.

May looked at Happy with narrowed eyes.

Happy then squinted his own eyes. “How do I know you’re not Skrulls?”

“Well, Happy, there was that one time in Berlin -” Peter started.

“I’ve said that one aloud before.”

Peter pursed his lips. “In Brock... Broek op Lange... Langej… I thought that Black in Black was a Led Zepplin song.”

Happy looked at May and nodded, ignoring Tony’s mouth silently opening and closing. “It’s him.”

May rushed over to Peter, cupping her hand on his face. “Oh, baby. Are you alright?”

“I’m great, May,” he swatted her hand away, “But I think both Tony and I need to stay at the apartment. He has school tomorrow.”

She laughed and pulled her boy into a hug. “Yeah, we can make it work.”

Peter mouthed ‘told you it would go alright’ at Tony over May’s shoulder.

…

Peter woke up in the bottom bunk of his bunk bed with pain everywhere. He was achy all over, and when he sat up, his joints creaked in disagreement.

He heard Tony yawn above him. “You awake, Peter?”

“Yeah, Mr Stark. I’m up.”

“I’ve never slept better in my entire life.”

“I disagree,” Peter said, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. “How do you live with all these aches and pains in your bones? Why do people’s bodies do this when they get old?”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just call me old.”

Breakfast was odd at the very least. May kept forgetting who was who but Peter could tell she was trying her best. Soon, Peter was sending Tony out the door like a parent sending their kid to school.

“This feels so backwards,” Tony groaned, “And besides, you never told me what this presentation is on.”

“It’s on our inspirations when it comes to engineering and their most important invention. Now, shoo,” Peter said, pushing Tony out the front door. “Notes are in the front pocket,” he yelled through the door.

Tony groaned, shuffling his feet as he walked to school. Damn, he was starting to actually feel like a moody teenager. Stupid hormones.

He did what Peter told him, putting his earbuds in and not talking to anyone until he reached the lockers where apparently he, MJ and Ned met every morning.

Michelle was leaning against the lockers with Ned excitedly babbling away beside her. He was being very gesticulate, and Michelle nodded every time he paused for breath. When she saw him approaching, she waved him over.

“That you, Stark?” she asked as Ned’s eyes went as wide as saucers.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s me.”

“Stop walking so confidently. I can tell that you’re not Peter.”

Ned looked between Tony and Michelle, eyes narrowing. “Wait… that’s not… that’s…”

“That’s Tony Stark, Ned.”

“Tony Stark is in my best friend’s body!” he exclaimed quietly and breathlessly.

“Yep, that’s me.”

“But doesn’t Peter have that presentation today?” Ned cocked his head, looking at Michelle.

“Yeah, he does. But Stark here had already been through highschool. It’ll all be alright.”

“Does he know what it’s about?”

Michelle glared at Ned, crossing her arms. “Don’t tell him until he looks at the notes. Don’t want him to get a bigger ego than he already has.”

“I do not have a big ego!”

“Tell that to the SHIELD files that were released that claim you have ‘textbook narcissism.’”

“That was pre-Avengers!” Tony pointed out.

Michelle rolled her eyes. “Good luck on your presentation.”

…

At the New York Convention Center, Peter sat across from Pepper, stacking his notes.

“Hello everyone, my name is Tony Stark…” Peter looked up from his notes. “Saying that doesn’t even feel right! How am I supposed to do this?”

“You’ve got this, Peter, you just have to believe in yourself,” Pepper reassured, “You know this information second best to Tony who invented it. Just pretend you’re in the lab explaining it to a confused Happy.”

“Okay, okay, yeah. I think I’m ready.”

…

“Peter?” Mr Harrington called, “It’s time for you to present.”

Betty, who had just sat down from presenting, turned around and smiled at Tony giving a thumbs up. Tony shakily smiled and rearranged Peter’s notes, heading up to the front of the room. Mr Harrington fumbled with Google classroom for a minute or two, leaving Tony to remind himself on how to act like Peter.

Awkward, but not too awkward. Stumbling, but still decisive. Highly intelligent, but not confident.

Eh, screw that. He was gonna get his kid a one hundred.

“Alright, Peter. I’m ready when you are.”

Tony smiled and waved a little bit. “Hi, my name is Peter Parker, and my inspiration when I engineer is Tony Stark,” Tony said, looking down at his notes, doing exactly what Peter told him to do.

“In my opinion, his most influential invention is the arc reactor,” Tony said, his eyes gazing over the notes once again, noticing the oversimplification of how the arc reactor worked. He put the notes on the floor beside him. He could explain his favorite piece of tech without the help of notes, and he knew Peter could, too.

Meanwhile, Peter was preparing to walk out on stage at the New York Scientific Conference. He was ushered to backstage by a stagehand who said that Peter would be on in three. The man then threw up three fingers and walked away, babbling into a mouthpiece. Happy came up from behind him, patting him on the shoulder. “You’ve got this, Peter. Go kill em up there.”

Peter shakily smiled and stumbled onstage, saving himself from falling on his face at the last second. He could pick out some of New York’s elite and many high profile researchers in the audience. What was he doing here, out under these harsh studio lights? He was just a sixteen year old kid from Queens! He knew plenty about arc reactor technology, but all these people were expecting a lot from this presentation.

He took a deep breath. It was just like when he was little, armed with a drawn-on beard and repulsor gloves, playing pretend in the mirror. He was Tony freaking Stark! At least, right now he was. He could do anything.

Inhaling sharply, he began his speech. “I’m Tony Stark, but you all probably knew that.”

The crowd lightly laughed as Peter realized that the sass came easily, like it was encoded in his mind. Tony’s name rolled around like marbles in his mouth, but that was okay, he had a full speech to make up for it.

“The widespread implementation of the arc reactor in New York City will bring down the cost of electricity, helping bring more affordable options to those in poverty.”

Peter looked to Happy, who gave him a thumbs up. “A miniaturized arc reactor has enough power to keep a human heart going for fifty lifetimes,” he gestured to his own chest, “That machine kept me alive for five years. You can trust it to keep the city alive for many more.”

Back in class, Tony was explaining how the machine worked.“The arc reactor is a fusion reactor that works as both an electromagnet and an unlimited energy source.”

Flash yawned in the back, throwing Tony off of his roll. Damn, he was going to make the rest of this presentation interesting.

“Next slide, please,” Tony said with a quick sniffle. “The plan for widespread use of the arc reactor is being presented as we speak. But that isn’t the most well known implementation.”

Tony double tapped his watch with two fingers, watching as the nanoparticles spread over his hand.

“Don’t worry, this one isn’t weaponized,” he lied. He wouldn’t use it against any of the kids, but he knew how schools felt about weapons on their property.

“The arc reactor was what saved Mr Stark’s life in that Afghan cave all those years ago. It is also most famously used in the Iron Man suit. Spider-Man has arc reactors on his Iron Spider suit, but not many people have seen that one.”

Tony held out his hand and spun it around, showing all angles of the repulsor. Peter’s classmate’s mouths were wide open at the spectacle.

“Pretty cool, right?” he smirked.

Afterward, Tony provided a more detailed explanation of the arc reactor this time with the aid of diagrams that Peter must’ve photoshopped himself. Speaking of Peter, he was currently showing his own audience labeled pictures that displayed the full capability of the tech.

The pair finished up simultaneously. “Thank you,” they both said at the same time with an overdramatic bow.

…

After his presentation, Peter sat around at the tower, waiting for Tony to come home. He couldn’t wait to have his body back tomorrow morning, but this was fun while it lasted. How many people could say that they were Tony Stark for a weekend?

Only two, that’s who.

And as for Tony, he was added to the long list of people who would eventually body swap with Peter.

(“Mr Stark?” Peter yelled down the hall a couple days after the switcharoo.

“Yeah, buddy?”

“Did you follow my notes when you gave my presentation?” Peter said as he peeked his head out of his room.

Tony pushed his glasses up his nose. “I may have gone… a little off script.”

“My teacher just sent me an email,” Peter scrunched up his nose with a huff, “accusing me of plagiarizing you!”

“Oh, shit. I’m so sorry, buddy.”

“That’s not even the worst part! He cited the presentation that I gave in your place as evidence of my ‘plagiarism.’”

Tony’s face fell and he shook his head in disbelief. “Now, that’s what you call good ol’ Parker luck.”)

#peter parker #spiderman #tony stark #body swap au #13 nights of halloween #irondad fic

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fandomn00blr · 5 years

Text

Dread Moon, Chapter 13 Excerpt

[Context: Post-Inquisition, Pre-Trespasser...Dorian has been ‘rescued’ and is headed back to Skyhold with his Inquisition fam. Anders is struggling to find his place in Kirkwall again, and without Justice. Hawke tries to big sister him to repair their friendship. It starts to work...sorta.]

[Oh shit! Also...have I mentioned how important Orana’s cinnamon buns are to keeping all of Hawke’s friends from killing each other?]

...

A hungover Evelyn was not happy that she had to practically drag Dorian and Cullen aboard the ship Harding had chartered for them the next morning. Bull, and even Alarion, who was technically their prisoner, though it was easy to forget that he would be taken directly to the dungeons as soon as they arrived at Skyhold, came along much more willingly. Aveline as Guard-Captain, and Varric as the official Inquisition ambassador in Kirkwall were there to see them off, and Merrill had accompanied them, having woken up as bright and chipper as ever before sunrise. Hawke and the others opted to sleep in and enjoy the comforts of the Hawke estate, which most of them had been missing for the past few weeks, months, and even years, in Anders’ case.

Just like old times, Orana had cinnamon buns baking and coffee brewing by the time Hawke even realized she’d missed her chance to say goodbye.

She rolled over, from dead asleep to wide awake in an instant. “Fenris!” The mid-morning sun was already streaming in through the curtains. “How could you let me sleep in and miss sending Trevelyn and Cully-Wully off?”

Fenris had already gone for a morning run, done his meditations, bathed, dressed, and was reading on the chaise across the room while enjoying a bowl of strawberries with his cinnamon bun and a cup of hot water and lemon, all parts of his routine that he had been missing dearly for quite some time.

“It’s not really a matter of ‘letting’ you…” he murmured, not looking up from his book.

“Is everyone else gone, too?”

“Isabela just woke up. She’s downstairs with Anders and Orana in the kitchen trying to convince someone to make her an omelette. Your sister said she had to go meet another potential donor for the College. And Merrill went with Varric and Aveline.”

“Why?”

Fenris shrugged, finally looking up at her. “Perhaps she was just being nice?”

“Weird.” She eyed his plate. “Are there anymore cinnamon buns?”

Fenris smiled and shook his head, returning his attention to the book. “I’m sure Orana saved you one.”

Hawke spent the rest of the morning nursing her hangover, gossiping with Isabela and Varric when he returned from the Docks, helping Merrill move more of her stuff into the estate, and insisting on buying Anders a new robe and a trip to the barber.

“You can keep the beard, Anders! But it’s in desperate need of some tidying up. Hobo apostate chic is so...not a thing anymore. And your hair could use a trim, too. The messy man bun still works for you, I think, but the dead ends...you’ve just taken the look way too far.”

“Even I get my glorious chest hair groomed…” Varric bragged, puffing his chest out even more than usual.

Merrill’s eyes lit up. “Really?!”

“Next time, Daisy...I’ll let you tag along to my appointment.”

“Oh! How fun!”

“I just don’t think I need --” Anders began to protest again.

Isabela eyed him knowingly. “No harm in cleaning yourself up! You know...in case you run into anyone cute…”

Anders shot her a quick glare and then turned back to Hawke. “Fine,” he sighed in defeat.

...

An afternoon shopping with and cleaning Anders up turned out to be quite exhausting for both of them, and they headed back to the Hawke estate tired, hungry, and irritable, but not entirely unsuccessful.

“It looks good, you know…” Hawke grumbled, trying not to look like she was admiring him too much. No one could ever call Anders ‘ugly,’ but new clothes and a bit of grooming had certainly reminded her how attractive he was. “I think eating food the past few days has helped a lot, too,” she added, just to annoy him.

“Thanks,” he grunted begrudgingly. He had thought the barber had done a fine job of accentuating the parts of his face that he didn’t completely hate. And the robe he’d picked, after so much fretting, was a nice teal velvet, free-flowing and comfortable, weighted perfectly for his tall lanky frame, with lots of useful pockets inside for potions and herbs and tools. It had gold accents that brought out the amber of his eyes and the various shades of blonde that actually washing his hair had revealed. Even he had to admit that it was nice to look down and appreciate what he was wearing, and how he looked in a mirror for the first time in...well, since he’d come to Kirkwall, really. Justice hadn’t really had much patience for vanity, after all.

But the two of them actually sharing a moment of gratitude and appreciation was short-lived.

“Anders, get behind me…” Hawke muttered, glaring ahead of them into the lengthening shadows of one of Kirkwall’s many winding alleys.

A large sinister-looking figure stepped out, brandishing a Templar’s sword from under his ill-fitting cloak. Several others, smaller in stature, but no less ill-intended emerged behind him. All of them wore hoods or masks to hide their faces. Hawke grinned. Too afraid to even reveal themselves...this would be easy.

“Our beef isn’t with you, Champion. Best get out of the way,” the big one muttered.

Hawke laughed. “I thought we routed all you inbred mage-haters out of the city years ago! Show your faces, you cowards!”

“We represent Kirkwall. You brought this murderer, this terrorist, back to our city, just as we had begun to rebuild from what he did, and we intend to do what you could not five years ago before he does anymore harm.”

“Kirkwall is BETTER NOW, you idiot! Are you so blinded by your ignorance and hate that you don’t see it?”

“I ask you once more, to please step aside. And let this man answer for his crimes.”

“No.”

“You don’t have to do this...” Anders muttered behind her.

“Oh, shut up. You know I do!” she said through gritted teeth, refusing to take her eyes off of the menacing group forming in front of them.

“Very well, then. Try not to kill the Champion, but if you must...” He motioned toward them with his sword and the rest of the group swarmed out of the alley, swords and knives and bows out in front of them. There were far more of them than Hawke had imagined, but they were clearly not trained or very well-organized, and many of their weapons were makeshift or old family heirlooms, heavy and rusted. Most of them didn’t stand a chance. Anders noticed several of the hooded figures were small, child-sized, even for dwarves, and he felt his stomach drop.

“Hawke, don’t!” he shouted. “They’re mostly civilians! And children!”

“They want to kill you!” Hawke shouted back, daggers flashing as she unsheathed them, ready to pounce on the first person who dared to attack. “Civilian or not!”

Anders was panicking. He didn’t want this. This is precisely why he’d hidden himself away in a cave for five years. He felt himself reaching for Justice, trying to will him to take over. He didn’t want to be here, he didn’t want to see this, didn’t want to be a witness or to have to decide between his own life and that of someone else, let alone a child, however murderous. Justice could make those hard decisions. Justice could protect him from the guilt. But Justice was gone.

“Faith and Justice send their regards…” a familiar voice murmured. In his head? Mostly...though his shimmering presence was beginning to coalesce nearby. Compassion.

“Cole! Can you help?!”

The figure nodded, and Hawke did a double-take when she finally noticed him.

“Who…?”

“Nevermind! Get out of the way, Hawke!”

She stepped aside as the shimmering spirit-boy-thing walked right into Anders, and a blinding golden light exploded out of him, pushing the angry mob back as they shielded their eyes.

“Abomination!” the leader of the group cried out, his cloak thrown back revealing full Templar armor underneath, though it was ill-fitting and unpolished. “We must kill him before he transforms into a demon!”

But many of the others had begun to back away, lowering their weapons, pulling their friends and family members along with them.

“Your friends are smart.” Hawke grinned at the man, sauntering up to him with a swagger that Anders had always both loved and hated in equal measure. “Show me that Templar sword again, big man.”

He raised his sword in front of himself defensively, but he couldn’t hide his trembling.

“And take off that stupid hood!” Hawke whipped one of her daggers up and knocked his hood back to reveal a plump-faced, orange-haired man with a ruddy complexion. He looked terrified. “Ah, of course! Ser Mettin! Who let you back into the city? I thought we’d made it quite clear you weren’t welcome here after you threatened to...hmmm...what did you say about my sister? ‘Put that little witch in her place’?”

She dragged her dagger across his cheek, tracing the line of a scar that ran from his ear to his nose. “Bethany gave you this with one flick of her wrist, but you deserved worse. My sister really is the kind and benevolent one of the family. She’s busy at the moment, so I’ll go ahead and finish you off for her.”

“This is my city, too! You and your sister and your friends can’t just do as you please!”

“Why not? Meredith and the Templars certainly did for more than a decade…”

“That was different!”

“You’re right. She was cruel and abusive and driven to madness by her greed for power. We’ve just been trying to help this Maker-forsaken city.”

“Hawke, let him go,” Anders said. Cole was back beside him, watching curiously as Hawke pressed her dagger against his other cheek.

“He doesn’t deserve that…” she mused, sliding the dagger down his jaw to his throat. “How many other mages did you ‘put in their place,’ Mettin?”

Suddenly a barrier flashed between Hawke and Mettin, and the man winced, half expecting it to have been some kind of killing spell. “Let him go!”

Hawke turned around, livid with Anders for interfering with her kill, and it gave Mettin just enough time to throw his hood back up over his head and take off in the other direction.

“Go back to the estate!” she shouted angrily, preparing to pursue him.

“It’s not worth it, Hawke,” Anders sighed.

“I know...he’s pathetic, right? Totally out of shape...I bet he dies of a heart attack before I even get to slit his throat.”

Anders looked at her pleadingly, those damn doe eyes of his begging mercy for the man who’d just tried to incite an angry mob against them. She’d always had a weakness for them, and especially now, with his hair pulled back away from his face, and the new robe with its contrasting teal and gold drawing all her attention to them.

“Fuck, Anders! But he’s complete garbage,” she whined.

“So forget him. Let’s just go.”

Hawke stared longingly down the dark alley, then sighed. “Fine…”

...

#dread moon #my writing #writing collab #anders #hawke #fenris #mettin #my favorite templar to hate

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