#((titles are hard

[searching4sarahtonin]

Whenever I feel like I'm terrible at titles, I remind myself that Shakespeare literally titled two of his most popular plays 'lDK what this load of silliness is' (Much Ado About Nothing) and 'Whatever, I'm on a deadline' (The Twelfth Night, or What You Will).

[ritzcreation]

Creative title here

[jubilantmedusa]

Untitled Zukka Hurt/Comfort Ficlet #1 (because practicing drawing means I need to write little mini fics I guess...)

“You’re sick.” Sokka’s voice was as calm as the surface of water on a still night. Not a hint of accusation or contempt. No softness, no sting. Only observation. Reflection.

Zuko took a breath, deep to sooth his limbs that were threatening to shake. “I’m fine.”

Sokka frowned, and Zuko felt a knot form instantly in his stomach. His shivered, vision swimming as he saw the flash of another frown, superimposed. A different frown. Harsh. Sharp.

Sokka’s movements were calm. Fluid. Gentle as he raised his hand to Zuko’s forehead and pressed with just the right amount of pressure. “You have a fever.” Zuko felt his heartbeat pick up as Sokka’s lip began to curl, but as his expression settled Zuko realized that Sokka wasn’t angry, just concerned.

Zuko breathed deeply, pinning his arms to his sides before the other boy could notice that he was shaking now. Only, he must not have been fast enough because Sokka dropped his hand from Zuko’s forehead to grab Zuko’s trembling fingers. 

“Your hands are freezing.” Sokka hand tightened around Zuko’s as he pulled it upwards, pressing it against his mouth. Zuko couldn’t stop his hands from shaking even harder as Sokka’s breath warmed his skin.

—

“I can do that.” Zuko reached to grab his sleeping bag. “I’m fine.” Sokka lifted it over his head like they were kids playing keep away. Zuko huffed, crossing his arms, but let Sokka keep it.

“You’re not fine.” Sokka spread of the blanket. “How long have you been feeling sick?”

“Ugg.” Sokka paused. He looked up, holding  Zuko’s gaze until Zuko finally drawled, two days? maybe three.”

“Three days?!” Zuko felt his pulse quickening again, his shoulders bracing. “Why didn’t you say anything!” Even though Sokka’s voice voice was high he didn’t sound angry. In fact… Sokka’s eyebrows were scrunched, lips pressed thin. “You were training Aang this morning. Zuko, you shouldn’t be bending like that if you’re sick “ Sokka was worried.

“I’m fine.” How many times had Zuko said that now? “It’s just a fever. It’ll go away.”

“I mean, sure it will, if you rest. Can you, uh…” He gestured towards the sleeping bag, laid out and waiting.

“Oh.” It felt awkward to lower himself down when his legs felt so much like jelly, Zuko was sure it wasn’t graceful. But Sokka didn’t say anything, just stood there, eyebrow raised. Waiting. Zuko realized, then, that he was supposed to lay all the way down. So he did, somehow feeling boneless now that he wasn’t holding himself up. 

He blinked as Sokka settled a blanket over to his shoulders. It took Zuko and absurd number of seconds to realize that it was a blue blanket, one of Sokka’s own. Woven. Thick. Soft.

“Comfortable?” Sokka asked. When Zuko met his eyes he smiled.

It was nice, seeing Sokka smile. Zuko wanted to smile back, but he… there was a quivering in his stomach. Not sickness, just… waiting. “I’m fine,” Zukp said. When Sokka raised an eyebrow, he added, “I… feel fine.”

“I doubt that,” Sokka said.

“I do,” Zuko insisted. Yes, his body felt suddenly heavy. And his skin buzzed strange sensitivity that made event he gentlest touch feel like a scratch. But he was lying on his side, on something soft, and he was warm. “I… thank you.”

Sokka shrugged. “I didn’t do much,” he said. “Do you need anything else?”

Zuko thought for a moment. “Water?” He croaked.

“Coming right up, bud.”

Zuko let his eyes close for a moment, just listening to the sound of Sokka’s footsteps as he went back to the packs, the rustling of fabric as he was digging through something. Then there was a feeling, something hard brushing his fingers. Zuko opened his eyes to see a small, green glass. “A Ba Sing Se souvenir cup?”

“It was on sale,” Sokka said, chuckling. “Drink it. It’s medicine.”

“For what?” Zuko asked.

“The fever?” Sokka reminded him. “Do they… umm… not treat fevers in the Fire Nation or something?”

“Of course they do.” Zuko propped himself up just enough to tip the bitter liquid into his mouth before settling down again.

More sounds of shuffling as Sokka lowered himself, and then Zuko felt weight on his back as Sokka pressed into him, a hand settling itself onto his arm. Sokka’s touch was firm, but quiet. Soft. Sweet. “But not yours?” Sokka sounded sad.

Zuko swallowed. He remembered that feeling, tossing and turning as his skin crawled and his stomach churned. Waking up with a sweat drenched face but father still expected Zuko to do his katas. Run through his katas, go to school, sit up straight. There was punishment for slouching, even if he only slouched because he was shivering so hard he couldn’t mind his posture. “We were being trained to rule, Azula and I. Countries don’t stop because you have a cold.”

Sokka didn’t say anything, just started rubbing his arm. 

“You can rest now,” Sokka said after a while. “I can take care of you.”

Take care of him? Zuko tried to remember the last time someone had taken care of him. His Uncle had tried, of course, but Zuko had always pushed him away. He couldn’t let himself be seen that way - weak, sick. So he ignored the quiver in his Uncle’s voice when Iroh spoke to him from the other side of a metal door. And before that… before that his mother would, when father would let her. When Zuko was so sick that she’d block his bed with her body to keep father away, even if it cost her. Then sit with him and fuss his hair back with slender fingers.

“I’ll take good care of you,” Sokka said.

Zuko took a deep breath in. Not a sigh, just a breath, one to fill him up. He could feel his heart starting to race again, but... nicer this time, with Sokka so warm and solid against his back. He let the breath out. Slow. Controlled. Eyes still closed, he whispered, “Okay.”

[starsidesky]

Let's just say that there's a couple of Baldur's Gate 3 characters who are currently living rent-free in my head. A situation that has stirred the writer in me. So here's a little vignette (honestly, I wasn't sure what to title this) about Isobel contemplating the aftermath of Act 2. (Potential spoilers)

Dust

For the first time in a century, the sound of mirth rings through Moonrise, and Isobel stands in near disbelief. Her thoughts are still racing on battlefield adrenaline. A small sleep-deprived fear trembles in her mind: the fear that this moment might be snatched away, that she might wake inside the Last Light Inn. Scorned by the realization that all of this was naught but a cruel dream. But one look at the sky and a solid pinch are enough to put her uneasy thoughts to rest.

The Harpers are enjoying some merry-making in the wake of their victory. Their strange new-found allies have generously offered to share their food and strong drink alongside whatever is deemed safe from the tower cellars. Aylin has eagerly joined in the celebration; her laugh is as magnificent as it is unmistakable. A hearty sound that carries throughout the towers like it had never left. The cleric decides it would be a crime to pull her angel away too soon. A hundred years caged in the Shadowfell had no doubt left her deprived of the most basic humane courtesies. She definitely deserves to celebrate.

Isobel draws a cold, shallow breath and stifles a coughing fit. The ale must be affecting her poorly, as the torchlight suddenly feels harsh to her eyes. She tolerates it for a while, but the celebrations get louder as the night goes on. Despite the lifting of the curse, the air in the hall feels muggy and suffocating, and a slight headache settles upon her brow soon after. All it takes is the drunken singing of a few dozen Harpers to persuade the cleric into the calm night air.

The moon from Moonrise had always been beautiful – a century couldn't hope to change that. But the same could not be said for Reithwin itself. Beneath the moonlight, the village Isobel had known so well seemed little more than a hollow shell.

A ghost, an echo of what once was.

At the center of it all stands the statue of her father, his expression listless and placid. The same way he looked when she first awoke.

A chill snakes down her neck.

She’s running barefoot, clad in cambric burial garbs, dodging creeping vines, and thorny brambles. White dots of lantern light chase after her; her father is amongst them. A mangled root catches her foot, and she tumbles downhill into a heap of thorns. Disoriented, she crawls away, pressing her back to a scraggly tree. Her lungs burn for breath, but no matter how much she gasps, her vision swirls with sparks.

Calling upon her goddess means risking discovery. Instead, she clasps a hand over her mouth.

The rumble of a galloping horse crests the hill, pulling her back to herself. The bony, half-rotted steed brays as it winds through the foul miasma. Her father screams from its back, sobbing, begging. His dark, anguished pleas echo through the marrow of her bones. She winces with every one, hot tears streaming down her cheeks.

The sound remains burned into her memory. Sometimes, late at night, she thinks she hears it still. Isobel thanks Selûne that he did not find her that night.

Once more, she gazes over the ruins of Reithwin and her heart twists. She spent a century dead, while so many good people - people she knew - suffered and perished for want of one man’s grief. Yet here she stands, and they do not.

She recalls the many hideous stories the Harpers told about the source of the Shadow Curse and the monster Ketheric became. At first, she could hardly believe it. The gentle, kind man - the man who'd raised her - chose to forsake their goddess, forcibly convert their people to Shar, and butcher those who would not. That wasn't even accounting for what he'd done to Aylin!

So much death and destruction, and for what?

"While I hold little love for Ketheric," Aylin's armored boots settle upon the stone behind her. “That monster was not your father.”

Isobel turns to face her, desperately trying to hold her emotions back, but to no avail.

In one fluid motion, Aylin pulls her into her embrace as her wings sweep around her. They’re a welcome shield from everything beyond. Isobel leans into her, her head resting against her breastplate. She listens quietly to the slow rhythm of her heart, the rise and fall of her breath, as Aylin rests her jaw upon her head.

“You are not to blame for his mistakes.” Aylin says softly.

Isobel finds her voice soon after, “I know.”

[mysteroads]

So, PSA to the, what?, twenty to forty(ish)? people who've read my League of Villains in the Afterlife series... I am considering a change to the series name (again😅). And it's all because I found a lovely poem that works so perfectly with the theme of "Just cause we're dead doesn't mean we're not having fun and hanging out". I've even quoted it in-series. Here's the link ⬇

Death is Nothing at All

It's actually a very beautiful poem, popular at funerals (for extremely obvious reasons), but what do ya'll think?🤔 Heck, I want opinions from anyone who sees this post! Even if you've never read my series, even if you're not into the fandom! ✨Vote anyway!✨ Just for kicks and giggles! Then reblog and make this post someone else's problem!

[newbiespud]

After finishing a webcomic this year and spending some time with some light editing of old fanfics to get ready to continue them, the other OTHER project I'm working on this and next year is going to be a second major Griftlands mod expansion! It's going to be a campaign mod where the three main characters team up against the world!

But coming back to it, I'm a little uncertain about the current working title. "Three For All". Like 'all for one, one for all,' but it's three... anyway. I could use some opinions on whether that's a good enough title or if I should go with something else.

[peathepirate]

I wonder what is hatching from that duck's egg... 🦆😈

While drawing WINGS, I've also been thinking about making an original comic. And after thinking about it, I started making one! Here's a pic from the prologue (or first scene of Chapter 1). It's up on Patreon for now because 1) I don't have a title for it, aaand that's it, that's my reason. No title, no website, no comic.

The comic is a lighthearted fantasy story of a teenage boy named Elias and his (eeevil) water spirit friend called Fish. Well, Fish considers them friends, Elias not so much. Together they have to solve a mystery of freshly caught fish suddenly disappearing around Isle Lake. It's going to be funny (in my standards), and gay, and overall a cute story. I know it's not Ace Attorney related but I hope you give it a chance once I come up with a title and make a website for it ❤️

[lifesizehysteria]

Desperately trying not to steal the way @shmaptainwrites formats her fic posts but they are so beautiful and eye catching that it’s VERY tempting.

[microwave-core]

Rose Colored Pages; Love Flavored Tea

Cynthia x Fem! Reader

Even the Champion of Sinnoh needs someone to look after her, especially when her desire for knowledge keeps her locked up in her room for hours on end.

The flipping of paper, only momentarily interrupted by the occasional scratch of pen against paper, fills the otherwise silent air in the awfully cluttered room of, who very well may be, Sinnoh’s greatest champion. You peer through the cracked open doorway, leaning against the opening to watch the fervent actions of Cynthia, your dearest girlfriend, hunched over on the ground, surrounded by a horde of texts haphazardly thrown around the already messy room.

You have no idea how long she’s maintained this position. She’s been like this since you arrived at her home in the early morning, meaning her spine has suffered for at least a dozen or so hours. She’s barely said anything, either, having given a brief “hello” upon hearing you walk through the front door and the occasional hum in response to your own words and actions, letting you know you were heard and seen.

Rolling your eyes, you delicately traverse the minefield of her study. The floor was cluttered with books, both open and closed, and loose papers. While they appeared to have been thrown around carelessly, Cynthia knows where all her important items are in the greater mess. They drive you crazy, especially given the amount of empty space on the bookshelves where they could easily be slotted into, but you leave them be.

Standing directly over her, you get a glimpse of what she’s looking at. An Extensive View of Sinnoh’s History, Hisui: An Overview, and The Remnants of Spear Pillar are all closed and stacked off to the blonde’s side. You can only assume that open faced books are of a similar nature, depicting ruins and murals and eldritch abominations. 

In the middle of the controlled mayhem are Cynthia’s own notes, scattered pages filled with messy writing, crude drawings, and citations. You’re unsure of what the point of this research is for, assuming she wasn’t doing this for her own satisfaction.

Squatting down, you gently wrap your arms around her shoulders, cradling your face against her back. “Having fun?” She hums in response. While she doesn’t turn to look at you, her posture shifts ever so slightly as she begins to write quicker than before for a few moments before putting her pen down, allowing her poor aching wrist to rest.

Finished jotting down her current history-related thoughts, she finally turns to you. Her visible eye shines through its tiredness (when was the last time she slept?), a soft smile gracing her features. “Of course I am. I’m surrounded by my greatest loves.” She leans back into your embrace.

The shaking of your head, amazed that you have to compete with history for the heart of your girlfriend, makes her laugh. “My day is always brightened upon seeing you, my love.” She remains there, happy to take a minor break. 

With her full attention, your arms tighten snuggly around her fully. Her hands find your own. They are calloused, but just as warm as the rest of her. She stills, exhaling happily. Cynthia will continuously claim that she loves history as much as she loves you, but only you bring about much needed relief and relaxation. Your warmth and presence puts her at ease, letting her eyelids and shoulders drop. 

You are eventually forced to pull away, knowing that she would stay in this position as long as you remained glued to her back. You unwind your arms from her warm, and probably sore, body to stand up and return to the terrifying dragon a few rooms over awaiting your return for more affection, but before you can, Cynthia taps her cheek gently, clearly desiring some affection of her own before allowing you to walk away.

You roll your eyes again, but you lean down to press a kiss to her cheek nonetheless. She’s clearly pleased with herself when you pull back slightly, beckoning you down for another kiss. Her lips are soft and taste of the mint tea you had brought her hours ago. 

The gleam in her eye prevents you from moving away fully, eye contact tethering you to both the floor and her, only broken when she glances away to the empty teacup laying close by.

“Bring me more?” The adorable expression on her face prevents you from rolling your eyes for the third time in quick succession, but doesn’t stop you from scoffing. You take the cup nonetheless.

“You want a slice of cake to go along with that?” “Please.” She’s always so endearing with you if it means she can get sweets out of it. You’d hold it against her if you didn’t love her so much. After all, complaining meant less time to be curled around her Garchomp, who was intent on soaking up all of the affection that Cynthia was missing out on.

“I’ll join you soon, I promise.” She throws out before turning back to the mess of paper in front of her. Her tone is sincere, but she’s said the same phrase more times than you can count during your relationship. Not that you mind, you were in no rush, and neither was she.

Besides, the sooner she finishes with her work, the sooner you can weave your way into her office space and clean up the clutter she’s grown so attached to. A good few hours will doubtlessly pass before she’s done, but you can already hear her half-hearted complaining as you pick up the books you oh-so-carefully tip-toed around earlier.

And the sooner her archeological and historical texts are slotted away in their shelves and notes into their binders, the sooner you can entangle yourself into each other’s arms, willing away the remaining hours of daylight to snuggle through the cold Sinnoh night.

[talshiargirlfriend]

Why is that part so difficult??

[importantdestinydefendor]

I managed to write nearly three whole pages for the AU!

Here, have two phrases from a section I'm really proud of!

He looked to the side and saw… white. Nothing but white. A thick white cloak filled his vision and attached to it was a white hood made out of long white fur.

and

And those eyes, gray-turquoise eyes. Arslan felt those cold fingers from earlier grabbing him again. There were no emotions in those eyes - or maybe not nothing. Maybe he saw some slight indifference. But it could also be the light.

This is Arslan describing Azar for the first time. In my opinion, it came out so well!

The section that I left out is where he describes her hair due to it falling in her face, and I do not like it! It just doesn't flow as good as the rest.

But I'm in the early stages, and I will go over it again for editing (writing this down as to reasure myself to not get hung up on that part oop-)

I also don't know what to name the AU yet (@tired-reader-writer has such a wonderful name for their AU I uuuughh). I'm currently playing with the name "Voices of (the) Fire" or something like that in my head. I thought it could fit as Azar's name means "fire" in persian and fire is a central point for the story. But I'm not entirely sure. It doesn't sound that good to me. (I got it from a random title generator as I'm not that good a coming up with titles)

Do feel free to tell me if you like it or other tips or ideas!

[jubilantmedusa]

Untitled Zukka Hurt/Comfort Ficlet #2

“It was good of you to bring him here,” Piandao said.

They were gathered in his library, dried and warmed and fed after their long flight through a misting sky. Night had fallen, the world lit now by torches and candles, casting strange shadows on their drawn faces.

Sokka’s arms felt empty. He had held Zuko through the flight as Zuko had shivered and shivered.

“Zuko’s inner flame has gone out.” Piandao’s voice was even, but the pinch of his mouth betrayed upset. “Not many people know the old ways, the healing of the Firebenders. But Zuko’s uncle does. I have the means to contact Iroh. There is hope yet.”

The silence in the room didn’t feel hopeful. “I thought the ‘inner flame’ thing was a metaphor,” Sokka said, bursting it.

“It’s more spiritual than physical, but it is very real,” Piandao explained. “Our bodies and spirits are entwined. Spiritual damage often manifests physically.”

“Like when you’re upset so you have nightmares,” Aang said.

Piandao gave a curt nod. “Similar,” he said. “This is more severe.”

“It still doesn’t make sense,” Sokka said. His stomach was churning. “Firebenders have an extra spirit part? And if that part is damaged they just waste away?”

That’s what’d been happening ever since Zuko’d thrown himself in front of Aang, taking an arrow laced with something sinister. A gift from Azula by way of the assassins that had been perusing them since they left the Western Air Temple.

At first Zuko’d been hyped up, unable to stop moving for hours and hours. When he crashed, Sokka thought it might actually be a good thing. Get some sleep. Be better in the morning.

But Zuko’d woken up disoriented, confused. And every time he’d woken since there was less of him.

He was growing colder. Sokka didn’t know what that meant. All he knew was that his arms were itching with emptiness.

“We all have inner flames of a sort,” Piandao said. His turned towards Sokka. “Even you and I. But Firebending… to create an element from the spirit’s own energy…” He swirled his hand, then winced, shaking his head. “Iroh will explain when he arrives.”

“When will that be?” Toph asked, leaning forward, harsh torchlight light shining directly in her sightless eyes. “Is he far away?”

“Iroh’s been in hiding since he escaped from Caldera, but I can reach him,” Piandao said, pointedly not answering the question. So they had where Iroh was then. He could be half a world away.

To Sokka’s right, Katara shifted, leaning forward, shadow dancing across her cheek. Sokka could see her eyes and… he knew that look. She had an answer on the tip of her tongue, but she didn’t want to ask the question. “Master Piandao,” she said. Katara would push through anything, even this. “This has happened before.”

“Yes,” he said. “Though it’s exceedingly rare.”

Katara nodded, eyes coming in and out of view as she did. “It’ll kill him,” she said, and Sokka could see Aang sinking at her side, head bowing down until his forehead was pressed into the wooden table.

Now it was Sokka turn. He didn’t want to, but he had to, mouth choking on the words. “How long?”

Piandao’s mouth pinched further. “I’ve only read accounts,” he said, “Some say as long as two weeks. Others, three days.”

Sokka was on his feet before he could breath, his footfalls echoing impossibly loud as he thundered across the tatami floor.

It had already been four days.

—

The room where they put Zuko was small and square, usually used as a dormitory for Piandao’s students. It had a simple bed with plain gray sheets, a sturdy but unremarkable desk. Flames roared in its large fireplace, making the room almost uncomfortably warm.

That’s the reason they chose it. It was easy to keep warm.

A wooden chair had been pulled up beside the bed. In it, Fat sat, an empty bowl held in his hands. “You got him to eat?” Sokka said, stomach fluttering.

Fat responded with a single nod. “Zuko was always a dutiful student,” he said. “You’ll be staying with him a while?”

When Sokka nodded Fat rose to his feet. “He’ll rally,” Fat said, voice affectionately stern. “Food, rest, warmth. It will go a long way.” Sokka wasn’t sure if Fat actually believed that or if he, if all of them, were trying to will something into existence, trying to project onto Zuko a strength that wasn’t there.

The only light in the room came from candles and the fire. Maroon curtains were open but it was only black outside, moonless. Shadows danced on Zuko’s face as he lay still and quiet, dressed now in loose pajamas. He looked comfortable at least. Lying on his side, wrapped in a thick, red blanket, with only his head and his toes poking out.

He’d be lost without that blanket, Sokka thought. The red was the only color in the room.

Sokka hesitated for only a moment before kicking off his own boots and settling himself down on the bed, his empty arms reaching, wrapping around the boy in the red blanket. His leg too, so desperate for touch. And maybe Zuko needed it, because he nuzzled forward, pushing his nose into Sokka’s cheek, his hands into Sokka’s chest. Even his feet shifted until the soul of his left foot was somehow pressed into Sokka’s right ankle.

They'd never gotten to touch like this, not really, during the strange flirtation they’d had since returning from Boiling Rock. Everything was stolen glances, lingering conversations, arms pressed together even though they didn’t have to be. A lingering hug. Everything fleeting. Everything discreet. Like it was half real and half a dream.

One stolen kiss. Arms shaking. Lips frantic. In the misting rain.

Now Sokka was living a nightmare. Zuko smelt like sweat and leather. His arms still shook from the memory of holding Zuko while Appa flew, Zuko’s body cold and trembling. The longest Sokka’d ever been able to hold him, and it was because he was dying.

But he wasn’t dead.Zuko was warmer than he’d felt in days.

“You’re going to be alright,” Sokka said, even though he didn’t believe it. But maybe Fat had it right. Maybe it was best to pretend Zuko was strong, even if it was a fiction. Maybe it’d be true if they lied. If Zuko believed them.

Sokka took a deep breath as it let his eyes close, holding Zuko as closely as he could.

[somniadelapsis]

Parental instinct

Fandom: Pokemon horizons

Characters: Friede, Murdock, Molly, Orla, Liko, Roy

Summary: Friede does something dangerous and the rest of RWT are not happy about it

They have to stay another day in town since they are waiting for a delivery. It's a nice day so they spend it outside. When it's time for dinner Friede goes to call the kids back. They are playing with a couple of Tangelas. Sprigatito and Fuecoco must have run off somewhere because they are nowhere to be seen. 

The Tangelas seem very young. The older ones usually shy away from people but these ones seem very curious. One of them swings at Roy's raised arm. Another is happily accepting pats from Liko. Friede smiles to himself at the sight. They all are enjoying themselves. Something moves in the bushes. Friede narrows his eyes. Vines slowly extend in the kid's direction. The vines have a bluish shade. He looks more intently. There's a pair of eyes. They are pretty high up. It's definitely not another Tangela. The hair at the back of his neck stand as he realizes what's happening.

"Liko, Roy" They look at him. Surprise paints their faces as they hear his serious tone. "Set the Tangela back down. Slowly." He instructs. His vision doesn't stray from the bushes. The kids follow his gaze. They both freeze. The Pokemon is higher than Friede so it's very intimidating up close. 

"Come on, put it down." He urges. Roy starts to slowly lower himself into a crouch. The Tangela makes a quizzical sound. When it touches the ground it doesn't let go. Neither does it let go when Roy is fully crouching. Roy sends Friede a panicked look. Friede sets his jaw. Nobody moves for a moment. The Tangela shakes its vines to indicate that it wants to continue playing. When Roy doesn't react it makes an annoyed sound and shakes its vines again. When that doesn't get the reaction it's expecting it lets go of Roy and curls its vines in frustration. Friede lets out a breath of relief. 

"Now get up and back away. No sudden movements. Nice and slow." He directs. The Tangelas let out various cries of disappointment as the kids started to back away. A Tangrowth comes out of the bushes. The Tangelas cry out louder. Some sound sad, some angry. The Tangrowth lets out a soothing cry. The Tangelas answer.  Friede hoped that the kids getting away would calm the Pokemon but the loss of their playmates had upset the Tangelas. Tangrowth glares at the kids. A few vines rise from the general tangle. It's reading for an attack.

"Friede?" Liko had also noticed that. Friede swallows. The attack is inevitable. The kids won't make it unharmed out of its range if they start to run. Unless...

He's so going to be yelled at after this.

"When I say 'run', run, okay?"

"Friede?"

"Okay?"

"Yeah." Their agreement is unsure but Friede doesn't really have time to convince them.

"Run!" He calls as he also starts to run. The kids give him startled looks as he passes them running towards the pokemon. He jumps to the side. The vine whip misses. Then he backs away. The next attack brushes his coat. He jumps to the other side. The pokemon lets out a frustrated noise as it misses again. Next it directs a wide attack to knock him out of his feet. He jumps, avoiding it again. When he lands he slips, loses his balance, half falls into a crouch. Just in time to avoid getting hit in the face. The pokemon attacks from upwards. Friede lunges to the side. Gets to his feet. He's not fast enough to dodge the next wide swipe. He at least manages to block it with his arm. Pain laces his whole forearm. He reels to the side. 

"Friede!" The kids scream in alarm.

He wants to shout back that he's fine. But it dies in his throat as a vine wraps around his ankle and yanks. He falls, gets dragged at the ground. Rocks bite into his hands as he tries to stop it. Then he's flying just barely over the ground. Hits it again, rolls around and finally stops. It takes him a moment to realize that he's not being attacked. He opens his eyes. Looks at the Tangrowth who's very close to him now. His first instinct is to flee but he forces himself to stay still. Running will definitely get him attacked. He wrecks his brain. He ain't a professor for nothing. He needs to look submissive. He slowly, oh so slowly, lays on his back, exposing his belly, hands at his sides. He curls up trying to make himself seem smaller. The Tangrowth observes him with its unnerving eyes. The Tangelas call out. The Tangrowth turns halfway in their direction, glares at him and finally it walks away. He allows himself a breath of relief only when the pokemon vanish in the forest. He relaxes and takes a steadying breath, then another.

"Friede?" Right now he has to deal with that. He sits up with some difficulty. He's bruised all over from the ordeal.

"I'm alright." He assures with an easy smile. 

The kids look relieved even if Liko doesn't look quite convinced.

"Hey guys, what's taking you so long?" Murdock calls. They all whip their heads in his direction. The cook's smile is slowly replaced by consternation as he approaches. They must be looking odd with Friede sitting on the ground and the kids leaning over him. 

"Did something happen?"

Before Friede can even open his mouth Roy exclaims. "We got attacked by a Tangelrowth!"

"Tangrowth." Friede finds himself correcting.

"Oh, right!" The boy says unfazed.

"Are you all alright?" Murdock looks them all over, stopping at Friede, who's still sitting on the ground.

The kids nod. 

"Sure." Friede says as he starts to get up. He doesn't get far as one of his legs lights up with pain. He clutches at it hissing through his teeth.

"Friede?" Murdock asks.

"Ok. Definitely not alright. Ow."

"Let me see." Murdock crouches next to him. His hands hover over his leg. He hesitates. He's not sure how to approach this without causing him more pain. 

"Can you get Molly?" The cook askes the kids. They run to get her. Friede frowns. Honestly it's not that bad. Friede uncurls a little. He unties his shoe, struggles to get it off.

"Let me." Murdock says. He loosens the ties more and gently takes off his boot.

"Huh." Friede comments intelligently. His ankle is an impressive shade of red and already starting to swell. He tries to move it and winces.

"Don't move it." Murdock chides. Friede looks away from his worried expression. He observes the bushes. 

"We should move away a bit." He says.

"Why?" 

"The pokemon that attacked us might still be nearby."

He yelps as Murdock lifts him bridal style. He clings to him to keep balance.

"I can walk." He says with indignation.

"Sorry but I don't trust your assessment of that." Friede pouts. He still finds his cheeks heating up at the thought of the rest of the team seeing them like that. His dignity could survive a piggyback ride but this?

After walking a safe distance away Murdock starts to set him back down. Friede has other plans. He wiggles and Murdock has no choice but half set half drop him to his feet. He stands leaning on the cook for balance as he keeps his weight off his injured leg.

"Friede." Murdock sighs in exasperation. Fried just grins.

"Oh, I got you dirty." He says as he points at Murdock's neck. The cook wipes it with his hand. He frowns and grabs Friede's hand. Looks it over. His frown deepns. Friede looks at his hand when it's released from the other man's grip. It's grazed, smudged with dirt and a bit bloody. As if on cue it starts to sting. He looks at his clothes. No wonder Murdock looked so worried. They are dirty and torn in some places. 

"Anything else?" Murdock's question gets him out of his thoughts. He would like to say no but Molly's going to check him over meticulously anyway. 

"Yeah." He looks at where he's gripping Murdock's shoulder. "Uh, I will need both hands for that."

"Then maybe sit down?" As you should have from the beginning goes unsaid. He does sit up. With a bit of help. He rolls up his sleeve to check on his arm. And as he expected it's visibly bruised. 

"Friede." Murdock says as if he knows he willingly got himself in a situation leading to this.

"What?" He asks more harshly than he intended.

Murdock mulls over whatever he's going to say. Friede doesn't get to hear it.

"Friede!" They both startle at Molly's call. She stomps in their direction. "You-" She searches for the right word. Doesn't find it. "Agh!" Friede sets his mouth in a hard line. Murdock looks between them in confusion. The kids must have told her what happened. When Molly sees Murdock's confusion she explains.

"He" She points at Friede "Set himself up to get attacked by a Tangrowth."

Murdock looks at him with a mix of disappointment and frustration. Molly's reaction made Friede want to fight to defend his actions but Murdock's made him want the ground to swallow him up. He tensed. He wanted to get up and walk away from this situation but the throbbing in his ankle reminded him that it wasn't an option. 

Molly sighed, her anger visibly dissipating. "Come on, show me that leg." Friede relaxed a bit at that. She prodded at his leg, moved it a bit. He couldn't help it but hiss and wince through her ministrations. 

"It's sprained." Molly informes. Friede cringed at the idea of restricted movement.

"What next?"

He shows her his hands. "Nothing some soap and water can't fix." She decides.

"Anything else? Or do I have to pat you down?"

Friede pouted at that.

"His arm." Murdock answered for him. After a similar assessment Molly informed that it was only bruised. 

"I can't do more here. Let's get him back to the ship."

Murdock moves to pick him up the same way as before. Now that he's calmed down from the ordeal Friede is fast enough to protest. "No!" Murdock freezes.

"You can't seriously want to walk back to the ship." He says incredulously.

"No, I'm not stupid." Molly looks like she would like to argue about that. "Can we do it piggyback style?" When Murdock doesn't agree immediately he adds. "Please?"

Molly huffs a laugh. "Did you carry him from the forest bridal style?" She asks.

The cook nods. Molly laughs fully at that. Friede feels his cheeks heat up again. He hides his face behind his hands. Murdock pats his shoulder.

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about." He assures. Molly laughs louder. Friede groans.

"We can do piggyback if you're so adamant about it." Murdock says.

Friede looks from behind his fingers. "Really?"

"Yep."

Molly wipes tears from her eyes. 

This wasn't that funny. Really.

Murdock crouches in front of Friede. He has to be a bit creative with his movements but he manages to climb on his back. He swings his hands around the cook's neck. 

What was the last time I was carried like that? Friede thinks. Probably sometime in college when he was being silly with his friends. He smiles.

The rhythmic shaking and Murdock's warmth combined with the rest of the adrenaline flushing form his system make him sleepy. He fights it. Everyone had enough of a fright as it was. If he fell asleep they would probably think he's unconscious and that they missed something. He suppresses a yawn. Murdock looks at him from the corner of his eye.

"Tired?"

"Mhm" He admits. "You're comfy." 

"Good to know." He chuckles.

"You didn't hit your head?" Molly asks.

Friede thinks about how he got dragged on the ground. "No."

"Good."

The kids jump them as soon as they are close to the ship asking a million questions. They all try to answer them and calm them down sufficiently. Then Friede's carried to the infirmary, his wounds cleaned. He suggests getting a shower before Molly bandages whatever needs bandaging. She agrees to it but insists he should sit through it. He does as he's told. She might have given him painkillers but they didn't alleviate the pain fully. Freshly showered and dressed in his more comfortable clothes he gets his leg bandaged. Molly spreads some ointment over his bruises. It spreads a pleasant cool over his burning skin. 

The previous sleepiness has disappeared after his shower so they eat in the kitchen. When only the kids walk out after they finish eating he knows he's going to get scolded.

"So" Molly leans forward on the table. "Why did you think that aggregating the Tangrowth was a good idea?"

He squirmed in his seat. "It was going to attack them. If they had run they wouldn't make it out unscathed."

"But you ending up injured is fine?" Murdock asked. He was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

"I- No" Friede bit the inside of his cheek. "I didn't plan to get hit."

"Then what were you expecting when you ran towards it?" It was Orla's turn to ask. She wasn't disappointed like Murdock or angry like Molly. She wanted to understand.

"I dodged some of the hits, thought that I could get away." He explained.

"I know that you're sure of your athletic abilities but rushing in without seeing how strong the pokemon is was beyond reckless." Orla said.

"So what? Was I supposed to watch as it attacked the kids?!" He couldn't help but raise his voice. "None of our pokemon were nearby, it was protecting its kids. It wouldn't let us walk away."

His anger was replaced by guilt.

"I should have made them stop playing with the Tangelas earlier." He muttered.

"You couldn't have known." Orla assured.

"I could!" He hit his palm on his knee to stress his words. "The Tangelas didn't act as fully grown ones do. I should have realized that their parent would be nearby." 

"Stop right there." Molly said. "We're not doubting your abilities as a pokemon professor."

He crossed his arms "Maybe you should." Then he looked panicked realizing he said something he shouldn't.

That shut Molly up. They planned to talk him into taking more consideration of his safety not to touch an apparently deep seated insecurity. He never told them why exactly he didn't like being called a professor. It's even more confusing when he sometimes refers to himself as one. They know he finished the course. Orla had even seen his diploma. He's a walking pokedex so it's a mystery where it came from.

"Do you have any better ideas than what i did?" He changes the subject. They all feel a little relieved at that. They are not ready for that conversation. Neither is Friede apparently.

The thing is they don't have any better ideas for resolving this day's situation. They could argue that Friede should have called Sprigatito and Fuecoco over but if they have not arrived at the commotion then they must have run off pretty far. Friede did have the widest knowledge on pokemon behavior among them so if he hadn't came up with any idea to defuse the situation peacefully then neither could they. They couldn't really tell him that he was right and scold him for being reckless at the same time. They would have also put themselves in harm's way to protect the kids. It didn't stop them from being frustrated. Friede often shouldered everything himself and there were only so many times that they could believe he forgot to tell them something. 

Murdock was the first to find the right words. "No." He sighed. "It isn't about today, honestly." Friede frowned at that.

"Can't you lean a little on us?"

"I am." Friede argued.

"You're really not. You ran off somewhere, not telling us where or what you've been doing. It's scary. We're afraid you're going to get in over your head and we won't even be aware there is any danger."

"I know how to pick my battles." Friede gets more defensive.

"We know you do." Orla cut in. "But you can't predict everything. Isn't it good when someone's got your back?"

"But you do."

It's so annoying that he doesn't get it.

Molly's temper sparkes. "Then how come you're ending up in my infirmary the most often?! Or when you get sick you let us know only when you can't deal with it yourself anymore. Actually it's like that with everything!" She threw her hands up. "We're supposed to be working together, not accept help only when we're unable to take care of something alone!"

"I'm not-"

"When was the last time you let us help before it was absolutely necessary?"

Friede opens his mouth. Closes it. Looks away setting his jaw.

"Exactly." 

"I don't want to put you in danger."

"We don't want you to put yourself in danger. It's always safer to face difficulties together." Orla says softly.

Friede mulls it over. "I will try to reach out to you more." He promises.

"Ok. Let's put it to the test." Molly said. "Are you shaken up after today at all?"

He instinctively wants to deny it. 

"Friede."

He deflates. "A bit I guess. I technically know how dangerous pokemon can be but being reminded of it is always scary. And I never liked Tangrowths."

"Yeah, they are kinda terrifying." Orla agrees. They share a smile.

[ilovedthestars]

New ficlet! My take on the missing scene where Amena makes Murderbot's hair fluffy :') (i made it sad by accident)

[heaven-lymouths]

chaeryeong/karina (side yeji/chaeryeong(karina?)) a/b/o pt2

[oysteringofclamelot]

rips to the wips that didn't make it out of 2023 alive