Some info on the Guardians that only appear in the anime. All of these are provided by Kentaro Yabuki, posted on the official account of the anime.
1. Emilio Lowe - No.III of The Time Guardians
A person that approves the Eden project. He is meant to be Svenâs opponent (?).
His voice and speaking manner is also similar to Svenâs former partner, Lloyd.
The glasses he wears also gives an impression similar to those of Lloydâs, though the design is not the same.
Unlike Lloyd, his look can turn into a very scary glare.
When he's not working as a Number, he lives a normal life in the city, probably having an ordinary job: a doctor at a small clinic, someone working at a flower shopâŠ
He could have encountered Sven by chance while he was in his civilian cover and become a close acquaintance.
2. David Pepper - No.IX of The Time Guardians
The image on the left corner is his serious expression.
He has a bright and friendly personality, can easily befriend anyone.
His hairstyle will change depending on his mood. He can bundle them up or wear a headband. This is the basic design.
He is quite tall compared to a Number.
His voice is imagined to sound like that of Norio Wakamoto (laughs).
Some of the Numbers have a fake identity to blend in with the public. David seems to be a musician.
3. Anubis - No.VI of The Time Guardians
Note: his description is the most detailed, claimed by the official Twitter.
He is a biological product of Chronosâs science. His humanoid character is implanted by them and he is loyal to the organization. His intelligence is equal to that of a human so he can understand our language.
He has never met anyone among the Numbers other than Sephiria since he is a secret member.
His fur is completely black to match with the theme color of the Guardians.
His face looks like a real wolf (probably this explanation is given due to the fact that overall, Anubis still looks somewhat different from normal wolves). The original werewolf in the manga is perhaps an inspiration to the creation of Anubis.
Since he is one of a kind, his design must have a reasonable proportion between the length of the limbs and his huge size. The anatomy plays an important role in demonstrating the coolness of his appearance.
He has a calm and collected personality.
His Orichalcum weapon, Osiris, is a versatile arm moving according to his will. It is embedded in his body (the Orichalcum tail is likely to be connected to his spine, not just attached on his behind). The weapon can also be used as a pistol (can function like a firearm) with great precision.
The author thought that if him speaking human language by himself would be an overdo. To facilitate communication, the organization has given him a device that can vocally convey his thoughts, or perhaps something that interpret his natural sounds into words. If he speak, he address himself as âIâ (first person like people do usually, not by name or anything particular).
4. Ash - Former No.X of The Time Guardians
Note: The Guardian doesnât always know their comrades. There are some they have never met, some they donât like. However, in the setting of the anime, he and Nizer appear to have been friends for a very long time, said the official Twitter.
He is Nizerâs best friend. Before being recruited into the Guardians, they used to be mercenaries fighting along side in some country.
He usually wears a headband.
5. Mason Odrosso - No.XII of The Time Guardians
Note: canonically, he is the only witness to the Taoist war that is still alive until this point.
Although he is old, his skin looks fairly good, not having so many wrinkles.
He looks better with a cane maybe.
The metal ornaments on the coat has been changed into fabric patterns in the anime.
The translation is done through apps and my efforts to grasp the ideas so donât take this too seriously.
Pokemon Headcanons: Specific Type Reader Masterlist
Anyone who has seen my Pokemon Masterlist knows that I have a crazy amount of headcanons with Corbeau dating a reader who's a specific mono-type trainer (Psychic Type Trainer, Fairy Type Trainer, etc). In fact, those kinds of headcanons are taking up a lot of space on that masterlist, so I decided to create a new mini-masterlist for them here. I've even alphabetized them because I'm autistic like that
ALSO, while I was originally just writing headcanons for Corbeau, I'm opening up to writing for more characters too. I might not be super familiar with some of them, but I'll do my best. I'd especially be open to taking requests for Grisham specifically because I love him. And characters from Pokemon Sword/Shield are also open, so long as they're adults (like Leon and most of the Gym Leaders)! Thanks!
Corbeau (Legends Z-A)
Bug Type Trainer Reader
Dark Type Trainer Reader
Dragon Type Trainer Reader
Electric Type Trainer Reader
Fairy Type Trainer Reader
Transmasc / Nonbinary Fairy Type Trainer with Soft Grunge aesthetic
Just out of plain curiosity, how many different aus do you have with the silly train boys? I know about the possession au, apocalypse au, dragons au, vampire Ingo au, therapy au, elderwritch Ingo au. Are there any more or is that all of them?
Thatâs most of them I think! The comprehensive list would be this:
- possession au
- apocalypse au
- twin dragons au
- ingo and the zoroark au
- freight train au (which I really need to expand one day sksks)
- vampire au
- cowboy au
- therapy emmet au
- eldritch abomination au
- angel au
- monster au
- scorched au
- soul eater au
- old man emmet
If you press the tags directly on this post, all the posts from each au should come up in chronological order! :D
I've been working hard on chapter 2 of my Ouran Highschool Host Club x Assassination Classroom fanfic and it just keeps on going. đ
Wouldn't be surprised if it reaches 10k words at this rate (currently at 7k).
I'm throwing Irina into the fanfic so she can brutally dismiss each of the hosts followed by Haruhi clueing together that Irina clearly has a crush on someone and giving her advice about what she should do.
I've also decided it will be 3 chapters long at minimum instead of the original plan of 2.
Gonna have Nagisa and Haruhi get kidnapped by the girls from Lobelia Academy (this will be the focus of chapter 3).
Even with all the stuff I'm cramming into chapter 2, there are still so many ideas I wasn't able to include.
I am considering making something like an anthology sequel fanfic that's just a bunch of much shorter disconnected chapters so I can explore all the cut ideas I had.
One such idea being Honey and Nagisa having a sparring match of some sort.
Also Isogai and Maehara as hosts would make for a short but fun scenario.
Ok, mother of GOD that's a lot of responses and I am but one man with Excel. I'll update these ASAP but also some rules:
A Pokemon only counts for itself, not its evolution line.
A Pokemon with multiple forms (like Zygarde) will only be counted for the specified form. A Pokemon with multiple appearances (like Spinda, Vivillon, Sylvally, etc.) count for all their appearances.
I'm literally doing this as a testament to my own depression that not everyone is lovable, so add that to the weight of this post's meaning.
Time to organize. I'll make this pretty when I can...
Hi there, you can call me PurpRi. Or Purp. I just casually write for brainrots that comes and goes, so I might not always be the most consistent, but I have fun with it.
all of my work on tumblr is under âdenny ficsâ - i also have another blog where i post âdate everythingâ content, so all my writing from there is on this tag too if you fancy a read! i also have some art under âdenny doodlesâ if youâre interested <3
masterlist dividers by @uzmacchiato !!
thanks so much for stopping by & i hope you enjoy your scroll! :D
âgod, youâre so cold,â youâd tease, mimicking the way he snuggles into you only with added scrambling limbs for dramatic effect. heâd simply shake his head with a fond smile, setting his glasses on the bedside table with a soft âshut up. missed you,â before pressing his lips to yours in a way that, despite his lack of warmth, still managed to make you melt every time.
the fifth time corbeau came to summon you from the rooftops to spend the night at his, the weather wasnât cold at all - it was quite mild, actually. only a few weeks had passed and spring was quickly blooming across lumiose, so you were surprised when you heard his familiar little âheyâ from behind you again. âitâs not cold anymore,â you stated simply, looking up at him with thinly veiled confusion that was quickly replaced with a smug smirk. âiâm starting to think you like having me around or something.â
âiâm not fucking with you, beau, i want you. iâm falling for you.â you barely managed to get âfor fuckâs sake, i have been for monthsâ out of your mouth before shaky hands were holding your waist, your back was pressed gently against the wall and corbeauâs forehead was resting on yours. you met his gaze as you brought your hands to cup his face and his eyes were so bright, relieved, sparkling as if months of restraint had just been lifted from his shoulders.
âcome home with me,â he almost whispered, and you froze. his fingertips ghosted up your sides as he punctuated the end of his sentence with a soft peck to your lips. âplease. i want to savour this. no interruptions. no rushing. i want to have my fill of you in my own time.â his gaze met yours again and your jaw fell slack, staring at him in mild disbelief as you caught your breath.
âi mean,â you practically whispered, leaning in even further to ensure no prying ears could hear - you watched his pupils widen - âtake me back to your place.â he eyed you like a cat would a mouse as you conveniently brought a thumb to your bottom lip under the pretence of evening out your lip balm. âis it so bold of someone to ask for what they want?â
itâs all heat and teeth and tongue and delicious, swallowing down each otherâs noises and revelling in the fact that it was you doing this to him, and when he pulls away sharp golden eyes are fixed on you immediately. he looks fucking wrecked and you smile, his mouth ajar apart from him occasionally sinking his teeth into his lower lip and looking at you as if you hung the fucking stars.
âi want you,â you whispered, dragging him back down to earth, voice laced with desire, eyes burning up into his own as you remained kneeling between his legs. âand i see the way you look at me, beau, youâre not subtle. so please,â your hands roamed his thighs again, squeezing softly when they reached above his knees, âindulge me.â
âł grisham
àŒ THE COUCH đâŒïž
word count: 350
âyou make such pretty noises,â he breathed between kisses, trailing his lips down to your neck and nipping at the soft skin there, apologising with flicks of his tongue as he very obviously tried to mark you up. he simply smirked and bit down harder whenever he coaxed a soft moan from the back of your throat, hands slipping under your shirt and gliding over your chest like heâd done it a million times.
àŒ JEANS đâŒïž
word count: 980
a smirk fought its way across your face as you took your bottom lip between your teeth, a hand on grishamâs shoulder gently pushing him against the back of the sofa. a glint of mischievous recognition flashed through those pretty eyes of his and his gaze was on your lips before he spoke. âdonât get any ideas.â
àŒ THE MORNING AFTER đâŒïž
word count: 2.5k
you allowed your gaze to drift over him as he breathed softly, still encompassed by sleep, and your attention settled on the slight red stubble littered across his chin and jaw. he looked utterly stunning like this. most of all, he looked peaceful, and that was something you were starting to notice a lot more frequently since youâd been around. that was something you wouldnât mind getting used to.
àŒ BRAIDS đâŒïž
word count: 1.2k
braiding grishamâs hair was one of your favourite pastimes, and he was more than happy to admit that it was one of his too. youâd always admired his hair, and he loved the feeling of your fingers against his scalp as you pressed sweet kisses to his cheeks. it was cosy, it was intimate, and it was entirely yours. and, of course, there were some other motives also.
âł griselle
áŻœ MORNINGS
word count: 430
âmorning, beautiful,â you mused softly and she preened under your gaze, unable to hide the grin that curled her lips upward. bashful, she pulled up the covers in an attempt to hide her smile, but you could still see her dimples peeking out and the look in her eyes was pure adoration. âshut up. no flattery until iâm fully awake.â
áŻœ MINIDRESS đâŒïž
word count: 1k
she had insisted that her outfit be a surprise - she had grabbed it last minute and decided to surprise you with it, purely because the way you looked at her when she was even slightly dressed up made her heart skip. only moments earlier she had been inspecting herself in the mirror, lips quirked in a sly smirk as she realised this was going to drive you crazy. and fuck, she was right.
áŻœ YOURS đâŒïž
word count: 400
âgo crazy,â she breathed through a dazed smile, âyouâre not so bad either,â and with the way her usually steely gaze softened and her silky red and blonde waves cascaded over her shoulders, the way her soft white t shirt hugged her figure so perfectly that you could make out every single perfect curve and the softness of her breasts, you realised in that moment that you might have loved her all along.
that was how it had started. something that could have easily been passed off as a jest between friends, baseless teasing. she didnât need to know you were being serious. but something in the way she looked at you as you stood before her in the lab, a quiet recognition in bright blue eyes and a silence that suggested that maybe she was being serious, made your façade finally drop. and you had kissed her. hard.
âł lida
âż DANCE PRACTICE
word count: 750
âyouâre so fucking cute,â youâd cooed at her, snaking your arms around her waist to pull her into a soft kiss as the floral notes of her signature scent enveloped your senses entirely. you couldnât help but marvel at how soft her lips were as they curled into a tiny smile against your own - you were used to how they felt by now, of course, but god, she was just so soft and sweet and perfect that it made your head spin every single time.
âł warden ingo
àż SHELTER
word count: 430
you were so deeply, unfathomably enamoured with the man that him simply wanting to kiss you made you flush as if it was the first one youâd shared. he kissed you slowly, deeply, so passionately that you felt you might melt into his bedroll if it werenât for his grounding hand gently stroking the nape of your neck, keeping you anchored to the earth as you rode the high of his lips on yours. god, he was everything, and he was yours.
àż SENTIMENTAL
word count: 660
you had crept up on him like wildfire. if anyone had told him that there would one day be another like him, nevermind that he would grow to fall madly in love with them, he would have thought them mad. two strangers who fell from the sky in the same location, only months apart, and very quickly turned out to be entirely made for each other. if he were a more optimistic man, he would have thought it fate.
âł volo
đ€ âLOOK AT YOUâ đâŒïž
word count: 1.9k
âfuck,â you growled against his lips, taking his bottom one between your teeth to bite down and revelling in the groan you pulled from the back of his throat, âwhat the fuck are you DOING to me?â he simply groaned as he pulled you into another dizzying kiss before surging forward, pushing you to lay on your back beneath him. âi think the question is,â he purred from above you, his gaze and tone borderline predatory, âwhat do you want me to do to you, hm?â
Summary: The champion of Galar (you) have been on vacation for much longer than anticipated. Chairman Leon (allegedly) comes by to remind you of your responsibilities outside the city. Corbeau will not have it. (Part 1 of 5)(Part 2)
An unfortunately obligatory this was not written with AI, I just really like the em dash and refuse to have it be taken away from me. Anyway, i don't know if there's a market for galar crossovers but swsh remains my favourite game w my favourite characters so! I am creating the market if it doesn't exist!
The original idea was supposed to be 500 - 1000 words but it turned into. This. So i am giving it to you the way a penguin hands a rock to people they think are neat. If you're reading this, I think you're neat. Hope you enjoy! (There will be more of this, but I'm too excited about finishing this first part to wait until I finish writing it all to post. So please!!! Like and reblog and comment,,,, I need Validation.)
Not beta-read, and barely edited. Please be nice, I'm very fragile.
Something is off.
Corbeau watches the clock tick at his desk with an ever-increasing frown. He had just finished reading through the stack of reports piled high from the morning and has been expecting your arrival by the time lunch rolled around, and yet the office remains empty save for its usual occupants. Despite his preference to work in silence, Corbeau now finds it oppressive, scowling deeper as he observes the hands of the analogue display tick every onward, mocking him with the reminder that heâd been waiting thirty minutes and you are not where you were supposed to be.
It was unlike you to be so late, and despite the unspoken nature of your arrangement, you had always arrived at his office on the odd days to have lunch with him and tell him about whatever inane chaos you had plagued upon the city in the morning. Neither of you acknowledged this, but it had been going on seven weeks since you had come to his office for no other reason than just to talk. Your contract had expired, and Corbeau found a fondness for you by the end of it, even if he would never voice such a thing to anyone other than yourself in the privacy of his own office. He never tried to hide it, at least among the members of his own syndicate, even if he was careful not to show it much. The two of you would talk of much and nothing. Corbeau knew the intimate details of Lidaâs dance routine practices, the online discourse Naveen wades through for Canariâs honour, and Urbainâs continued struggling attempts at marketing the hotel. In turn, you had asked â but not pushed â about his business, and his mornings, and although he tried his best to keep it vague and keep you unaware of the more unsavory side of his business dealings, he had relished in having someone other than Philippe to discuss serious matters with.
You had seemed to him, at first glance, someone lacking in sensibilities. When he had intimidated you and Lida, persuading you to work for him, you vehemetely refused, opposing him with such a stubbornness that seemed entirely unaware of the circumstances of the situation and which party held the power. Corbeau found it entertaining to watch the back and forth between the two, as you tried to stand your ground while your friend grovelled for mercy, folding immediately to the terms of the contract without even bothering to read the fine print. A mistake that had already gotten their dear Urbain in trouble in the first place.
Yet, it seemed, he was wrong. A phenomenon that took him by surprise, since it happened so infrequently now that heâd accumulated all this power for himself. The more he saw of you, and saw you in person, spoke to you, battled with you, the more he realised the foolhardy stubbornness he mistook for stupidity or naivety, was actually an acute awareness of just how efficient your skills were honed for getting things done. No matter what task Corbeau threw in your direction, no matter what topic of conversation he weaved into the conversation, he found nothing you said or did to be lacking. You achieved what he had asked of you with a dogged competence that rivalled even that of his own right-hand man, and every conversation he had with you had revealed a sharp intellect behind the soft smiles and kind words you liked to give out freely to anyone who stood within a five meter radius of your presence.
Sitting up from his chair, he leans his elbows on the desk, typing something frantically on his keyboard. Perhaps he needs to inquire about his many eyes across the city to see where you had landed yourself and what exactly is keeping you. Or, well â he would have, if his own rotom phone had not flown into his face at that very moment with a notification for a voice message.
âHey, Corbeau! Iâm so sorry, you must be so pissed Iâm running late, but I actually canât make it today! My friend from Galar surprised me with a visit, so Iâm picking him up from the station and weâre going out to lunch and tour the city. Make it up to you soon! Bye! Love you!â
Corbeau finds himself blinking. Did he hear that right?
He plays the rotom message again, just to be certain.
ââ Bye! Love you!â
Suddenly he is acutely aware of Philippeâs presence behind him, having certainly heard the entirety of the voicemail his phone played out without warning. He fixes his expression into a poker face, ignoring the burn spreading across his cheeks and the back of his neck, and reaches for his phone, typing out a text reply. Perhaps if he says nothing Philippe wouldnât bring it up. Well, Philippe wouldnât bring it up because he values his life and his position in the organisation.
[Itâs fine. It seems like you didnât get a heads-up about their appearance anyway. Donât worry about making it up to me and just make sure to show your friend the best parts of Lumiose.]
He ignores the final part of the message. It mustâve been a slip of the tongue.
Philippe coughes.
âWow, boss. I honestly didnât think sheâd be the one to say it first.â Nevermind.
Philippe is a dead man.
âââââ
Despite your absence at lunch, his afternoon is mostly unchanged. Really your chats with him consisted only a relatively small portion of the pie that comprises his schedule. Most of it, a vertitable sixty-percent, perhaps, was desk work, and if he was lucky, the remaining of it would be him stretching his legs to do some menial field labour, check in on suppliers for his various manufacturing and production operations, perhaps negotiate in person with his more stubborn clientelle, and if he was really having a good day, get to battle some ruffians trying to pick on innocent bystanders with his Scollipede. All in all, the time you spent together consisted perhaps not even a tenth of his schedule. So why did he feel your absence so severely?
Without meaning to, Corbeau finds his mood taking a downward turn. He feels his patience wearing thin faster than it usually does when he speaks with the ingrates he finds himself doing business with.
On more than a handful of occassions, Philippe had stepped in to usher the men sitting across from Corbeau to enjoy the snacks and tea put out in front of them to give him time to compose himself and approach their dealmaking more rationally.
Honestly this meeting has been going on too long.
âThis is a stunning apple tart! Are these local?â The one with the ridiculously bright blazer (Ethan?? Something or other â it didnât matter. Corbeau wouldnât see these people again. Their names donât matter.) bites into it with an enthusiasm that almost reminds him of you, except of course that comparison would be ridiculous because you are infinitely more endearing to watch dance around your food than this oaf who could barely type up a contract without needing to be spellchecked every other word.
How can a person mess up a standard issue import agreement with a litany of spelling mistakes and grammatical nonsense when the machines HAD SENTIENCE?!
Corbeau takes a deep inhale. Clearly the manâs own rotom has given up on him. Or it hates him enough to mess with the printing of an important legally binding agreement. Whichever, Corbeau doesnât care to know or ask.
âThe pastries are, but as far as Iâm aware, the man running the shop gets his apples from Galar. Iâll tell him you liked his goods.â Corbeau manages a semblance of pleasantry because despite his well-earned reputation for being an antagonistic, intimidating mob boss, even he has his limits, and these businessmen from Johto surely have strings they could pull to sabotage him if he doesnât handle this rejection with care.
âOh! Galar! Thatâs why these are so good! Galarâs got a whole thing about apples, donât they?â The one seated next to bright blazer grabs another tart, shovelling it down with all the desparation of a man who hadnât eaten in decades â a stark contract to everything about his appearance and what Corbeau knows of his activities since his whole party had landed in Lumiose, but whatever. He only has to put up with them for so much longer.
âSpeaking of which,â The one at the farthest end from the two, seated directly opposite Corbeau, eyes him with something of a glint in his eye â suspicion perhaps? Mischief? It unsettles Corbeau only a small amount. Powerful as they were, they were in his city, on his turf. They could only do so much from here.
âChairman Leonâs in town, isnât he? At least I heard he flew here to bring the champion back to Galar or something like that. What do you think of it, Mr. Corbeau?â
Corbeau eyes the man suspiciously, though he keeps his own face carefully neutral.
âWhy would I know anything about what goes on in another region, Mr. Clay? Iâve already got my hands full with this city alone, do you really think I have time to listen to chatter about champions from places Iâve got nothing to do with?â Although he tries to keep his response fairly polite, there is only so much his patience could take. Why had they derailed the meeting to this?
âAnyway, we should return to discussing the shipping feesââ
Bright blazer interrupts him with a laugh â a laugh! â leaning forward conspiratiorally.
âI wouldnât be so quick to say it has nothing to do with you, when the rumors have it that Galarâs champion has been doing favours for you. Correct me if Iâm wrong, of course, but I have seen them out and about with you on a few occassions, so I assumed you had them on your payroll a bit. Though, why a champion from Galar needs to work for you, is beyond me. Of course, Iâm sure you could provide an explanation, Mr. Corbeau.â
Champion? What on earth were they insisting that the Galarian champion was working for him? He has no memory of ever hiring or so much as speaking to the champion of Galar. The only person heâd âhiredâ quite recently was â you.
Corbeau feels the metaphorical Gyarados hosing him with Waterfall. You are the champion of Galar?
Something clicks in his mind. Your friend from Galar who came to visit by surprise.
Chairman Leon.
He had come to this city to take something that belonged to Corbeau.
Well, had a good run. Sighing, you pocket your phone and decide to instead take pleasure in watching the Swirlix bouncing around the rooftops. It was three months of peace, at least. Three months of escape from the shitstorm that is the Galarian press, in a city that felt both so large and yet so homey and small, where no one really knew you even though you hadnât attempted to hide anything about your name or identity. A charming excited chirp comes your way, a wild Swirlix barrelling towards you, spinning round in circles as it stops right in front of your face. You laugh as it continues to twirl, reaching out to offer it pets, and it immediately smacks itself into your hand, crying out excitedly while you scratch between its ears.
You pretend not to hear the camera flashing somewhere nearby while you do a completely mundane activity that youâve done some iteration of, at least a few hundred times already in this city. You understand that people care and watch because you are the champion of Galar, but so much more often, you feel less like a champion and more like a glorified show monkey dressed up with all the logos of brands that had begged to sponsor you.
Anyway, the point is, itâs not like you decided to stay. It kind of just. Happened. And though Leon hadnât said why he was here, you had a feeling you knew what it was about. After all, you were only technically sanctioned for a month of paid leave, and it has already been⊠well past that. The only reason they hadnât hounded you on your absence was because they couldnât. It wasnât like you told anyone where you were going (and you even ditched your old rotom phone at your dadâs place to avoid the work calls), and Kalos wasnât even really the first stop during your supposed vacation time â it just ended up becoming your lengthiest stay. Doing things that werenât exactly vacation activities. Okay, so youâd basically signed up to compete in a tournament that kind of, sort of made you â well, not champion, per say, but at the very least, a very well-known, well-respect, renowned, strong accomplished trainer in Lumiose. So, essentially champion.
While shirking your duties as champion of another region.
Yeah, you were lucky they sent Leon, and not Raihan, who mightâve torn you a new asshole for leaving him to deal with the brunt of your duties since heâs as close as it gets to the regionâs interim (deputy?) champion without you around, given that he is the strongest gym leader in the region (no offense to everyone else, but itâs not exactly a secret).
You are alerted to Leonâs return, not by the man himself, or even your own abysmal situational awareness as you had just zoned out petting the Swirlix in front of you, who seemed content with the absentminded pets regardless, but by the sheer volume at which the thundering shutters start clicking. Cameras go off, each capturing every nanosecond of Leonâs relatively short walk from the public toilets to the bench. You hesitate a moment between playing into it or just doing your best imitation of a certain poison-type trainer that certainly does not occupy space in your mind, but one look to Leon and the magnanimous way he holds himself in front of the paps has you folding. You decide then to match his energy, giving Swirlix one final scritch as it shimmies away to the nearest pastry stand, swirling happily in the air following the aroma of the gallettes.
A large grin settles on your face, and you realise at this moment just how foreign this feels now even though youâve only been away from the spotlight really for a few months. A pit of âŠsomething settles deep in your stomach that you decide to ignore. Perhaps it had settled there awhile ago, and you had ignored it all this time. Whatever the case, right now, Leon is grinning as he walks back to you and it becomes a little easier, a little less fake, to smile.
âSorry I took so long! I got lost on the way back, the alleyways here are honestly such a maze.â He says, sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck as he laughs, embarrassed.
The shutters click. You donât even need to check to know that someone has this on 4K video or some variation of that.
âItâs fine.â You wave him off. âAnyway, I made a friend! I saw a Swirlix! Cute little buddy, very soft and cuddly. Love that guy.â
Leonâs expression softens into a fondness youâre familiar with from your childhood, and suddenly the pit in your stomach feels lighter.
âAw, is it gonna be a new member of your party then? What are you planning to call it?â He looks behind your shoulder, immediately spotting the Swirlix in question. Itâs dancing around the stall owner, trying to ply them for treats, but they seem immune to it. Maybe theyâve encountered this one Swirlix enough times not to fall victim to its charm.
You shake your head in response to his earlier question.
âI already have a Slurpuff in my party, and between her and Feraligatrâs appetites, Iâm not really sure I could afford another one.â
You could. You absolutely could. Even without the obscene amount of money in your account back home (is it still that?) in Galar, youâre making enough in the Royale alone to feed a whole army of them. (Which is why you found the deal with Corbeau absolutely ridiculous in the first place, you could have just paid Urbainâs debt upfront, but no one seemed keen to listen to you at the time, and by the time people were, you had already convinced yourself of signing the contract to spite both Lida who wouldnât listen to you and Corbeau who seemed to think he could somehow intimidate you at his grand stature of five feet and exactly one Joltik tall. Unless he spat acid or breathed fire, he wasnât exactly as scary as he thought he came off. And he was even less scary the more you got to know him.) And thatâs not even considering the notion that Corbeau might just give you the money, maybe. If you asked nicely enough.
Or you could loan it from him and publicly ruin your career.
It's easier to ignore all the lightning strikes when Leon is so easy to talk to. He doesnât bring up how prolonged your stay in Lumiose has been, or how you havenât been answering your phone or anything about your âdisappearanceâ. He does bring up the new moveset that Charizard has learned, how heâd trained with Master Mustard to perfect some new battle technique that he loves to spring on the poor, unfortunate trainers at the Battle Tower. He talks about how Nessa finally asked out Sonia, how it had been him, Hop and Raihan whoâd all conspired together to quite literally lock the two of them in Soniaâs research facility until they finally managed to come out of it with plans for the evening, looking significantly more dishevelled than when theyâd come in.
It's a nice conversation, comfortable, and it makes the walk from the Magenta District to Hotel Richissime a lot faster.
(You adamantly refuse to pay for the cabs, even if you could, by all stretches of the imagination, afford the obscene 700 pokedollar fee because fuck Le Z Eternale and his idiotic disdain for public transportation. You grew up on trains! Trains are so fucking sick! WHY would you want to get rid of them? Oh, right. For a stupid wish to make his taxi company the monopoly for transportation around Lumiose. Like Vinnie would even agree to it. What a weirdo.)
By the time you arrive there, Leonâs bags have already been waiting the whole afternoon at the lobby, and you find out that actually, Leon wasnât here for you at all, which both makes you flush slightly, feeling a little vain at assuming so, while filling you with a sense of relief that softens the edges of that sharpening anxiety trying to find grip in your chest.
What heâs actually here for is a seminar for the Society of Battle Connoseurs. You donât know much of them, save for the few youâve fought during the Royale, and the three assholes who tried to lecture and harrass a bunch of kids that youâd fought off under Corbeauâs instruction. Your impression of the organisation as a whole from those few interactions leave much to be desired, but you do your best to be excited for Leon. It isnât hard because heâs a naturally excitable person, and talking about battling in front of a group of people who seem as enthusiastic as he is about the topic is like a rush of sugar to him.
Heâs already chatting on about the specific points heâd like to discuss, asking you about every other talking point to see if you agree with the direction of his discussion.
Despite being the champion of Galar for a good⊠five (?) or so years now, youâre not one on public speaking. You feel spoiled in that regard because Chairman Leon also happens to be Lee, your pseudo big brother/second best friend who has always done what he could to take care of you, so anytime you had to talk in a public forum, Leon had always taken charge.
In this regard, heâs always going to be better than you, even if you could beat him in a battle with relative ease on most days, so you only nod along to his points and reassure him that whatever he has to say will certainly be enlightning to them.
He leaves you in the lobby of the grand hotel, and youâre suddenly grateful that Urbain had somewhat strong-armed you into staying at Hotel Z because the sight of the gaudy opulence that made up the hotelâs lobby reminded you too much of the mansion suite of Roseâs old penthouse in Wyndon and standing in the not-quite familiar setting made goosebumps crawl under your skin. You wonder how Leon feels about all this. The two of you never really spoke about what happened then.
You make yourself comfortable in one of the lobbyâs plush sofas, doomscrolling for a little longer than you should, and seeing the notification counter on the bird app tick higher and higher as you steadily ignore it. What is harder to ignore, however, is the fact that every post cluttering your timeline are sightings of you and Leon across the city, with various captions ranging from wholesome and heartfelt appreciation at your fit or Leonâs appearance or the general dynamics of your friendship, to absolute insane conspiracy theories that you definitely arenât going to think about in the dead of night when youâre about to go to bed.
You do, however, notice the messaging app bursting with notifications, which is less irregular because Lida and Naveen usually like to spam the chat with various city finds like cheap stores and restaurants or random funny memes, but when you open it, youâre surprised by the sheer amount of messages you have from other people.
Only your Lumiose contacts had this number, so there was only really a handful of people messaging you at a time, but the fact that theyâre all now blowing up your inbox makes you realise just how big the news about your title in Galar actually might be. And the fact that youâve completely forgotten to disclose it to the entire friendgroup. Big whoops.
Right then. Time to give Lida a call.
âââââ
It honestly hadnât been difficult to track down the hotel that Chairman Leon had been staying at, given the many resources at his dispossal and his many eyes and ears around the city, but none of these had even been necessary, as it seemed every step the both of you took around Lumiose was documented down to even the moments Chairman Leon had left you alone at a park bench for thirty minutes because he had gotten lost getting to and from the public bathroom.
Unlike Chairman Leon, Corbeau prides himself on punctuality and the ability to read at at least a first-grade level because thatâs usually when they teach children to read maps. Â
Thankfully, he doesnât have to worry about the papparazi shooting photographs of him since his frightening reputation far outweighs their desire to get viral clicks on whatever social media site, and doubly so because Hotel Richissime has a strict âno picturesâ policy due to the nature and wealth of their clientele. Apparently the one time it had been violated by some up-and-coming photo journalist trying to get a skirt shot of Diantha as she climbed up the giant spiralling staircase, not only had they been kicked out of the place and their expensive newly purchased equipment destroyed, but they had also been blacklisted from every major publishing house in the city. Whether that was the hotelâs doing or the actress-trainer herself, the hotelâs reputation for privacy clearly benefited from it because now papparazzi donât even dare to enter the lobby, content to take obscure photos of the guests entering and exiting the doors from a distance that canât be considered part of the hotelâs private property.
There in the lobby, he immediately finds you. Thereâs not too many people milling about the hotel at this time in the afternoon, and the fact that youâre physically recoiling from your rotom phone as it screeches out the loud excitement from your friends on the other end certainly helps with being easy to find.
Before he can decide how heâs going to approach you, you lock eyes with each other and your face breaks into that squinty-eyed smile heâs become quite enamored with, loath as he is to admit it to anyone other than you. He nods to you, walking in your direction, and perhaps it might be a trick of his own mind to stroke his ego, but he could swear to seeing your grin widen as he approaches. Some large protective creature residing in his chest trills in satisfaction.
ââ NOT TELL US YOUâRE THE CHAMPION OF GALAR??? I CHALLENGED YOU TO A BATTLE! OH MY GOD IS THAT WHY YOU HAVE SO MANY STRONG POKEMON ALREADY? IS THAT WHY THEYâRE ALWAYS JUST AT THE HOTEL AND NEVER ââ
When Corbeau draws closer, he recognises the screeching from your rotom phone to be Lida, and also that your phone is set to a supposedly normal volume, and not speaker mode like an outsider might infer from how Lidaâs voice carries through the machine.
You cut her off in the middle of her tirade, waving your hand in the air as you dismiss her.
âHey, Lida, babe. Please take a deep breath and calm down. Okay, thank you. Iâll explain everything when I get back to the hotel. But I gotta take care of something right now. Bye! Love you!â
A green-eyed Arbok coils around his chest at hearing the same sentiment in the voicemail you left him thrown in someone elseâs direction. He ignores the snake tightening around his heart and sits across from you. You hang up the phone, checking something else on it, but your eyes flicker up at him a moment, frowning as you look at him.
âWhy are you sitting there? Youâre so far away. How am I supposed to talk to you?â You almost mumble, voice only loud enough for him to hear, a petulant tone in your words that satisfies the snake coiling in his chest.
Corbeau chuckles and moves to sit on the same loveseat as you, smirking all the while.
âBetter, princess?â
You cough, and Corbeau notices a dusting of pink on your cheeks now that heâs close enough.
âThank you.â You smile contentedly, pocketing your phone. âSo what brings you here, boss? Got a business meeting or something?â
âI was looking for you actually, but if youâve got something you need takinâ care of, then Iâll leave you to it.â Corbeau eyes you as you shake your head and nudge yourself closer to him. Despite the song and dance youâve both been playing over the last few weeks, youâve never been this openly needy for his proximity. He wonders whatâs changed.
âNah, youâre good. Actually the âsomethingâ I was telling Lida was you! We werenât able to have lunch lately. I missed you.â You admit openly, and Corbeau has to look away for a moment and pretend to adjust his glasses to stop himself from melting completely at your honesty. He does allow a small private smile to twitch at his lips.
âYouâre being quite forward, you know? Somethinâ I should know about?â Corbeau teases and instead of shying away like before, you lean in next to him, grinning all the while.
âI just think I need to be more honest with my friends, thatâs all. Youâre a good man, Corbeau. I like you.â You say it so plainly, like itâs the truth. You both know itâs not, but you still look at him with your bright brilliant smile and Corbeau almost believes it.
He shakes his head.
âWhile I appreciate the sentiment, Iâm not a good man, and you know that. I just happen to like you too.â Despite having admitted this in various roundabout ways in the past, hearing Corbeau say it again has you breaking out into a somehow even brighter smile than before, eyes squinting in delight at hearing him repeat it.
âItâs okay, you donât have to be. Iâll still think of you as one. I know way worse people, anyway.â And isnât that a sentence? Corbeau has kept much of his less than legal dealings away from your curious gaze, but heâs aware on some level that you know of it to some extent. How much you know, and why donât run at the thought of it are both mysteries heâs not too inclined to go out of his way to solve. Still, how much exactly do you know that you think whatever heâs done isnât as bad as⊠whoever it is you know?
âOh? Care to share, champion?â The title slips from Corbeauâs mouth not-quite intentionally, really. The word drips out of his mouth with a level of sarcasm he usually reserves for people who are not you. Itâs the thing theyâve been dancing around for this whole interaction â why Lida was yelling, why you hadnât shown up at his office.
Because you are champion of Galar.
And you didnât tell him.
And now Chairman Leon has come to take you back home with him.
Your face twists in confusion, and you blink at him.
ââŠDidnâtâŠdidnât you know?â You ask, eyebrows furrowed as you stare at him.
Itâs Corbeauâs turn to be confused. In all the moments youâve met, at no point had you mentioned much at all about Galar. In fact, it mightâve been Corbeauâs first time hearing you were from there that morning. How would you expect him to know?
âYouâve never once mentioned being from Galar. How was I supposed to know that, let alone know that youâre the champion?â
You pause, tilting your head, eyeing something behind him, and turning your head to study the room around you before you meet his gaze again, a soft small smile on your lips.
âYouâve got at least six of your people in this room right now, Corbeau.â You say, not quite soft enough to be a whisper but just loud enough to be discreet.
âYou have at least six of them here, and I know for a fact that youâve got your ways of watching this city, and me. I think I spotted two Rust Syndicate members tailing me around Wild Zone 17 the other day. Almost waved at them if I didnât think theyâd get in trouble for being spotted.â
You were right of course. The whole point of surveilling you was to keep you safe, but Corbeau also didnât want to scare you into thinking he was some sort of stalker creep. Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Hence the need for subtlety. Heâs not sure exactly how to feel about you knowing about his surveillance. On some level, he would be relieved that you knew, but it depended on whether that colored your impression of him or not.
He looks to you, quiet, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
âIâm not offended or anything, by the way! I think itâs nice. I know youâre only doing that to make sure Iâm keeping my word about protecting Lumiose. I mean, we both know with my team that Iâm a pretty powerful trainer and that comes with a lot of risk too for the city, especially since Iâm an outsider, right? Itâs fine, really.â You laugh, waving him off, and the relief that washes over him is only shadowed by the annoyance of your assumption. You think he sees you as a potential threat to the city? Thatâs why youâre okay with being surveilled?
âI donât do it for that.â Corbeauâs tone brooks no argument, but you look at him perplexed. âWeâve already established you would do whatever needed to be done to protect this city. I just wanted to make sure you actually lived to do it, when you have such a knack for getting yourself into life-threatening situations every other day.â
Your mouth forms an âohâ at his statement, and he covers an amused chuckle by coughing into the back of his hand.
âYes, I do keep tabs on you, but Iâve only done it to make sure you come back to my office in one piece when I need you there.â
This admission is as close as Corbeau gets to admitting he needs you full stop. He can only hope you get the message though.
âOh, well, um.â Whether or not you understood the meaning behind his phrasing, youâre flustered by the admission, nonetheless. You shake your head, perhaps attempting to shake off the nerves. âYou can see how I assumed you knew about, um. My status?â
The way you say status makes it seem like youâre talking about anything else except being the fucking Galarian champion. You almost refer to it like itâs a plague marking you.
âI justâ when you said youâd heard of me, during that first meeting, I thought you meant youâd done your research about me. Itâs not like I was really hiding my identity, since no one immediately recognized me here, and yeah, I dyed my hair a different color but itâs not like my entire facial structure changed or anything. So yeah, I thought you knew, and you were just polite enough not to mention it.â
âEven if you thought I knew, why didnât you mention it? Back at the office when we first met, you couldâve said something about your title.â
âWould it have made a difference? You were pretty keen on getting us to sign that contract to work for you. I mean, I could have paid for the entire thing myself, if Iâm being honest, but by the time Iâd worked up the courage to mention it, Lida was trying to stop me from doing something stupid and just sign the contract, and I was kind of already determined to sign it to spite you.â You admit rather sheepishly.
Corbeau chuckles, grinning at you like a Meowth catching a Fletchling in its claws.
âYouâve got an interesting definition of spite, if you thought signing that contract would spite me.â
You shrug, a breathy laugh escaping you.
âI wanted to prove I was capable, and that I wasnât scared of you. Iâm still not.â You look at him again with that soft, simple smile heâs grown accustomed to.
âYou know, I thought you were naĂŻve at first, for not fearing me.â Corbeau admits, leaning into your space. You, in turn, slide closer to him, your knees touching at the proximity.
He smiles in that soft, endeared expression, the one that transforms his whole demeanor from the usual intimidating syndicate head to a completely different man. His eyes soften as he looks to you, eyes darting to your lips.
âIâm glad youâre not afraid of me.â He whispers, your faces inches apart, and he brings a hand to caress the side of your cheek softly. âYou should never have to worry around me.â
âCorbeauâŠâ You murmurr, leaning in to his touch. Corbeau is tempted to make a move. He leans in, with the intent of stealing a kiss from your lips when your rotom phone rings loudly, the sound crashing you both back down to Earth, reminding you that despite the relative privacy the loveseat affords you, you are both still in the lobby of Hotel Richissime.
Corbeau clears his throat and sits back, veiling his disappointment at being interrupted by fiddling with his tie.
You frown as you pick up the phone, mouthing a âsorryâ at him, pouting as you answer it.
âLee? Whatâs up?â Corbeau canât hear the other end of the conversation, but itâs a lot of nodding for your part, and he doesnât try to contextualise any of it. All he can fascinate on is the nickname. Lee.
You were so close to Chairman Leon that you called him Lee. You hadnât called Corbeau any nicknames apart from the teasing âbossâ from time to time. Why was that? What exactly was the nature of your relationship with that chairman that you called him nicknames and hung around his arm and dedicated a whole day to spend time with him, even going so far as to cancel your recurring lunches with Corbeau? Was he the one you thought you belonged to? Had he claimed you in ways Corbeau hadnât yet?
Corbeau sighs internally, shaking his head. He fixes his frames in a grounding gesture, focusing on you instead. Whatever your relationship with this Chairman Leon was, you seemed quite willing to kiss him just a moment ago, so clearly he wasnât all that important to you in the grand scheme of things.
No matter. Corbeau would have you, even if your Chairman Leon tried to get in the way.
âThatâs fine, Lee. Go have fun with Jacinthe or whoever. It makes sense they wanna get to know you before your big talk tomorrow. Have fun!â You hang up the phone, and immediately look back at Corbeau.
âSo that was my friend, Leon. I was supposed to be waiting for him down here to finish packing, but apparently he was ambushed by the head of the SBC or something? Theyâre taking him out to dinner whether he agrees or not, so that means Iâm free tonight, and I said Iâd make it up to you somehow, right?â You look at him, a pleased grin on your lips. The same ones he was about to kiss.
Perfect timing. Tonight then, he would make his move.
âIâve cleared my schedule for the rest of the day, so we can meet at my office in an hour or so and go for dinner after you have time to change.â Corbeau agrees readily, already making mental plans for the restaurant to take you to, and the clothes heâll have someone bring to your hotel room. Youâve always been a fan of Kanto cuisine, and he had an in at a Kanto-style restaurant he usually reserved for only his most important clients. And you just happened to be the most important one of all.
You frown, in lieu of a verbal response and your head turns to something behind Corbeau, who follows your gaze to the doors.
âI⊠justâŠrealisedâŠâ You speak in halting fragments, head still watching the lobby doors for something. âI donât actually know how Iâm going to get home with the papparazi following me the whole afternoon. I donât exactly want to dox myself to the entire Lumiose press.â
Was that the problem? For a moment, Corbeau had worried you might have found his offer wanting, or that your nerves might take over and cause you to back out, but the press? That was a problem Corbeau could solve with ease.
He stands, quickly removing his suit jacket, and he takes no small amount of pride at the way your eyes roam across his chest and arms. He preens inwardly, but focuses on offering you the jacket.
âWear this. It wonât hide you from the press, but theyâll know better than to follow you. Trust me.â
âOf course I do.â You respond, without a momentâs hesitation, taking the jacket from him and shrugging it on. You stand then, and nod enthusiastically at him.
âOkay then! Iâll meet you at the Rust Syndicate headquarters in an hour. Do I bring the jacket with me?â Corbeau shakes his head.
He smiles softly. âKeep it. Itâs yours.â
âOh! Then, here. This, I definitely canât take.â You stand closer to him, and he watches as you remove the badge where he keeps his key stone and pin it to the collar of his shirt.
His hands catch yours before you can drop them.
You look up at him curiously, and he canât help himself from bringing his lips to your knuckles.
(the formatting will be a little simple, but at least it will be there!)
Corbeau
đź Mob Wife (crack?)(request)
Reader proposes (?) in order to pay off debt
đź Can't Change (light hearted, fluff)
(part 1)(?)
The Rust grunt with the Drilbur reports to his Short King of a boss that you like tall guys
đź Tipping Point (light angst, love triangle)
(part 1)(?)
the point at which a series of small changes or incidents becomes significant enough to cause a larger, more important changes
Hello, my name is Crit (he/them.) Welcome to my SUBMAS art blog, @critterbitter! It is sfw, but please take care if you are a minor, as Iâm Old. Thanks! To reach my main blog, please direct your attention to @proxycrit .
This is a masterpost of all the art and comics Iâve done for the funny train men so far. Feel free to browse and definitely feel free to comment!
(Hereâs my kofi as well! If you wish to tip. If you want wips, hereâs my patreon!)
All work can also be found under #myart.
Comics/Art List:
A SUBMAS spotify playlist-- Post Hisui Muppet Council
Emmet and eelektrossâ you and your dog get sent to feudal japan
Ingo and lady sneaslerâ you weigh like a bag of grapes
Emmet, meet volo
tynamo and emmetâs first meeting (they become friends instantly)
Litwick and ingoâs first meeting (they become enemies immediately)
Aftermath of training
The starters perform care on full grown men
Committing war crimes on both eel and man
Submas kidsâ the Snack that smiles back, litwick edition
Box shenanigans (caricatures of the children)
Emmet and litwick come to a deal
The difference in starter relationships boggles the mind
Good morning, litwick (good night, lady sneasler.)
Ingo fights his inner envy demons with the communication stick
Coat flapping
You are Beloved, Lampent. Thatâs all.Â
A jackie at gear station
Tynamo evolution blues (this is funny)
The imposter syndrome sets in (it is no longer funny)
Library blues (elesa should be paid for carrying books)
Sassy night light
Happy eel dog
The joyful ordeal of evolution
Eelektrik boa (a gold standard!)
Lampent discovers discourse. This becomes everybody's problem.
Nimbasa trio walk and talk
Couch party (it's poll time!)
SUBMAS AU: Conventional Starters
Lampent is an umbrella, if you squint
Happy Holidays!
Eel-esa outfit (cause, you know, she dresses like an eel. Get it? Get it?)
I'm Gem. I use he/they/it, and I have been reading x reader fics and headcanons for something like ten years, but I've never written any... until now. Finally getting into it! Please be nice. My primary muse is Legends ZA, but I miiight write from other games - we'll see.
I don't take requests, but I do take suggestions: feel free to inbox me with your ideas/wants and I might whip something up, just... no guarantees. The muse is weird like that. Feel free to send asks in general! Posts, links, and structure are subject to change as I figure out what works. Updates likely, no fics yet, so no masterlist or links.
Masterlist
Corbeau's (Not So) Secret Admirer - Corbeau x Reader: Tumblr and AO3
Should I ever write anything long-form, it'll be under "#gemserials"
"gemposting" is my original post/non-rb tag
Asks will be tagged "#gem answers"
Characters will be tagged "#character" and "#pokemon character"
Ships x reader will be tagged "#character x reader", "#pokemon character x reader" and "pokemon x reader"
Ships with my OC will be tagged "character x oc", "pokemon character x oc", "character x oc's name", and "pokemon character x oc's name"
Canon x canon ships will be tagged "character x character", "pokemon character x pokemon character", and the ship name...if I know it
Reader characters will be tagged "#undescribed reader" for a reader given no physical description, no non-canon details, no name, and only you/yours as pronouns.
Otherwise, names and pronouns and descriptors will be tagged and mentioned.
Games will be tagged by name and acronym: "pokemon legends za" and "plza"
Long posts will be tagged with "#long post", and cuts will be used to keep 'em shorter
CWs will be tagged with "cw thing" where needed
Unrelated stuff gets tagged with "not pokemon"
My AO3 is here with my absurd backlog of old (no x reader) fics. New fics and headcanons will also be posted there, so even if tags get fucky, they're findable.
gemalawaspokemon -> thegemoflumiose
Info:
Over 21.
This is a sideblog.
Aside from fics I'm always rebloggin' fanart 'n stuff. Will try to RB more fics as well.
Blog is minor friendly in that I tag nsfw and don't really reblog it anyway. Basically nothing else gets tagged I lack time and energy for that.
Feel free to say hi :)
My other blogs:
@gems-of-fandom (blog for non-Pokemon fandoms, mostly fanart)
@geminthereal (reblogs of pics, memes, politics, and such)
@gemsonthepage (my fanfic blog mostly composed of writing memes)
@matching-scars (blog for my MASSIVE WIP Stanley Parable fic)
