#Gift Box Mart

[corroded-hellfire]

Time For Toys and Time For Cheer - Eddie Munson x Reader

An As You Wish story

Collaboration with the El to my Max, @munson-blurbs

Summary: When Brittany’s Christmas presents for the boys come in, it’s evident that “it’s the thought that counts” doesn’t apply.

Note: Jingle bells, Brittany smells, please enjoy this fic today!

Warnings: mild violence, Eddie being a perv, Brittany being Brittany

Words: 2.3k

[As You Wish masterlist]

“Oh, you’ve got to be shitting me.”

Eddie lets the scissors drop down onto his mattress as you peer into the box he just opened. Seeing Brittany’s name on a box when you picked up the mail for your boyfriend was enough to irk you for the rest of the day—especially since Eddie wouldn’t open it until after the kids were in bed because it’s probably their Christmas gifts. The silver lining though, was that you saw Brittany is going by her maiden name again. You hope to God she changed it legally; she doesn’t deserve to be a Munson. 

The box did contain gifts for the boys but as you look inside you see what pissed your boyfriend off. You reach in and pick up a box of Legos that were made for a kid half Ryan’s age. The Blue’s Clues coloring book that Eddie takes out is just as insulting. Should she get credit for knowing Ryan likes Legos and Luke likes coloring books? Not in your opinion. Not when she lived with them for most of their lives. Not when she gave birth to them and should know how old they are and that these presents are not age appropriate. 

“Is this really a bunch of Lego kids on a bus? Oh look, they’re soccer players on a bus.” You scoff and roll your eyes as you set the gift back in the box it was shipped in. “Yeah, ‘cause Ryan loves sports so much.” Eddie’s eldest was in agreement with his father that sports are stupid. You think his mother would’ve known that. Then again, his mother is Brittany. 

“He’d put that together in less than five minutes,” Eddie says, nodding towards the Lego set. He sets the coloring books back inside as well and pulls out a small white paper that got stuck to the bottom of the box. “Looks like they’re from Wal-Mart. Nice of her to send a gift receipt. Almost as if she knew her presents were shit.” 

Any irritation you feel for Brittany doesn’t come close to the love you have for Luke and Ryan, and you’d do everything in your power to make sure they have a wonderful Christmas. 

“Think Wayne will watch them for a few hours after dinner one night?” you ask, eyes scanning over the gift receipt before meeting Eddie’s deep brown ones. 

“If we buy him a mug, he might watch them for the whole weekend.” Eddie puts the gift receipt back in the box and closes it. He looks over at you and an adoring grin grows on his face. “I fucking love you, babe.” He takes your face in his hands and presses a wet, smacking kiss to your forehead. 

Eddie falls a little bit deeper in love with you every time you do something for the boys without any hesitation. And since it’s a frequent occurrence, it’s safe to say that he’s head-over-heels for you. 

A few nights later, Eddie brings the car to a stop in front of his uncle’s trailer. He puts it in park and looks over his shoulder at his sons in the backseat. Ryan doesn’t seem bothered one bit that he’s being dropped off at his grandfather’s. Luke, on the other hand, looks like you and Eddie just told him he’ll never be able to eat another cookie again in his life. 

When Eddie’s eyes meet Luke’s blue ones, the little boy groans and drops his head back against his seat, curls smooshing around his head like a halo. 

“Why can’t we go with you?” he whines. 

“Luke,” Eddie says with a chuckle. “You hate clothes shopping for yourself. Let alone anyone else.”

“Yeah,” you say as you turn to face him as well. “And I can take forever in dressing rooms. I can never decide what I like better.”

“Plus,” Eddie adds with a smirk, knowing a foolproof way to get the boys out of the car, “you really wanna come with us and watch us kiss the whole night?” 

The moment Eddie leans in towards you, both boys groan and Ryan slaps his hand over his eyes. Checkmate. 

Luke is quick to scramble out of the car, his older brother right behind him. 

“Go!” Luke practically shouts. “Take your time! Make sure you get a nice dress.”

“Yeah,” Ryan adds. “Has to look nice for your work party.”

It’s hard for both you and Eddie to keep a lid on your laughter while the boys are all but pushing your car down the road to get you away from them. 

“Be good,” Eddie calls out the open window. 

“Yeah, yeah…” Luke mumbles as he trudges up the front steps of the trailer. Ryan follows behind him and gives you and Eddie a wave before they head inside the house. 

The moment they’re inside, Eddie turns to you and raises his eyebrows. 

“Can we buy you a new dress?” he asks. 

“Why?” you ask with a laugh. “You’ll want me to buy a sexy one, then not want me to wear it out anywhere and let people see me in it.”

“Ah, fuck,” he mumbles as he puts the car in drive. 

“Maybe after we return the baby-fied toys that are in the trunk and get the new ones, we can look at some lingerie, though?” you tease.

“Deal.”

The Wal-Mart parking lot is a madhouse; Eddie circles it three times before finally snagging a spot all the way at the back. He scoops the presents from the trunk and the two of you make a beeline for the return counter, with you holding onto his jacket sleeve to avoid losing him in the crowd. 

“Okay,” Eddie says, once you’ve secured the gift card that contains the store credit. He looks at you with sheer determination. “We gotta divide and conquer. You shop for Ryan, and I’ll shop for Luke.”

You make your way to the Lego aisle; Brittany had the right idea, but the wrong execution. After perusing the shelves for something more age-appropriate, your gaze lands on a kit to build a Statue of Liberty replica. 

Just as you grab it, you feel someone tugging on the other side. “Um, sorry, I’m taking this one,” you try to explain, willing your voice not to waver as it often does during confrontation. 

The man who’d reached for it as well scowls at you. “Yeah, I don’t think so.” He yanks it from your grasp triumphantly. There’s a nasty sneer on his face as he looks down his nose at you. He’s around Eddie’s height, bald as a cue ball, and has a beer belly that’s larger than most pregnant women’s bumps.

“Hey! What the hell’s your problem?” The words slip from your mouth before you can stop them. 

The man smirks menacingly. “What’re you even doing in this aisle? The Easy Bake Ovens are down that way.”

When he points to his left and lets his guard down, you seize the opportunity to pull the Lego set from him. 

“What d’you think you’re doing, bitch?” He reaches out a meaty hand to snatch it back, but he’s jerked back by his collar. 

“You calling my wife a ‘bitch’?” Eddie growls, eyes blazing with fury. You can’t remember the last time you saw him this angry. He shoves the man, now wide-eyed and fearful, into a display of Tonka trucks, which catches the attention of a security guard. 

He marches over to the men, waving his hands and shouting. “Hey, break it up!” The guard pulls Eddie away from the man. “You two,” he looks between Eddie and the guy, “get outta here!”

Eddie sputters. “Wha—no, he called my wife a bitch!” he tries to protest, but the guard just pushes him toward the exit. “This is bullshit!”

Despite the gravity of the situation, you can’t help but feel butterflies at the way he said, “my wife.” It has a much better ring to it than just, “my girlfriend” or even “my fiancée.”

Your awestruck demeanor vanishes as you stare at the back of Eddie’s head in disbelief while the security guard leads him away. You’re left hanging in limbo, unsure if you should follow him out or buy the toy—he is going through a lot of trouble for it, and you’d hate for his efforts to be for naught. 

As if he can read your mind, Eddie looks over his shoulder and gives you a wink. “You know what Luke likes, baby,” he calls out. 

You can only nod as you hold onto the Lego box for Ryan. 

“Meet you in the car,” Eddie says before turning back around, wincing when the guard shoves him out the door. 

It’s hard to shake off the fact that Eddie just got kicked out of the store and proceed to shop as though nothing has happened, but you know you need to find something for Luke. Something that isn’t made for a preschool demographic. 

“Okay, Legos for Ryan. Luke still likes coloring books. Just not Winnie the Pooh ones.” Brittany was at least on the right track with her gifts for the boys—just a good number of years behind.

The coloring books are a few aisles over and you chew on your bottom lip as you check out the collection. There are lots of Disney ones full of princesses and mice, but Luke only really enjoys the movies made by The Mouse, not any toys or games.

Scooby Doo catches your eye and as soon as you pick that one up, you see a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles book.

“Hmm…” you hum, but then chuckle to yourself. Of course he gets more than one.

You cradle those two books in your arm with the Lego set and also grab Pokémon and a monster truck one.

You’re welcome, Brittany, you think. You sent three but now he’s going to think you sent him four. None of this is for Brittany’s sake—both you and Eddie know that. The boys would be the ones disappointed, not their mother. There will come a day when they recognize her absence and carelessness, but you don’t want to help point it out; you just want to show them love and support.

On the way to the register, you do a double take when you see a mostly empty shelf of wrapping paper. Brittany didn’t bother to wrap the presents before she sent them, but that’s something else the kids don’t need to know. 

Making sure to get a paper that’s very different from any of the ones back at the apartment, you add a Frosty the Snowman roll to the pile in your arms. This way, they’ll differentiate these from the presents left by Santa. 

Most of the registers are crowded, which makes you huff, but you’ve had your share of fighting for the evening. Instead, you wait silently until the woman behind you in line starts speaking to you. “Last minute shopping for your kids, too?” she says with a laugh. 

You nod. “Yeah, it’s been quite the adventure,” you offer, not wanting to relay the near-WWE match that occurred in the toy section. 

“I’ll bet,” she chuckles, hoisting a toy Batmobile. “Boys or girls?”

The question catches you off-guard for a moment. “Boys. Two of them.”

She shakes her head. “I can’t imagine having two sons. I have one, and he’s a menace.”

You smile. “Yeah, but they’re my menaces.”

On Christmas morning you’re not entirely sure what’s up first: the sun or the boys. Eddie looks like a zombie as the two of you initially follow the boys out to the living room. Once they see the tree and the mountain of presents scattered about, their joy and excitement are almost as good as a cup of coffee in waking you and your boyfriend up. 

Heaps of wrapping paper pile up as they tear open their gifts: action figures and Hot Wheels for Luke, books and science kits for Ryan, and a handful of VHS tapes for them to share. 

Once the heap of presents begins to dwindle down to the last handful, Eddie stands up.

“Don’t wanna forget the gifts from Mom.”

The boys instinctively glance at you before they realize that their dad is referring to Brittany. 

Eddie hands them the carefully wrapped packages, assessing their expressions to gauge their excitement. 

“No way, this is the Lego set I wanted!” Ryan cheers, beaming at the toy. 

Luke is equally impressed with his gift. “Yes! New coloring books!” He stands up and does a little happy dance that looks very reminiscent of something you’d see one of The Peanuts characters doing. 

Eddie smiles, knowing all the bullshit of dealing with Brittany, in the past, present, or future, is worth it to keep his boys happy. 

“You guys wanna call Mom and thank her?” Eddie asks.

They nod, racing each other to the phone so they can get back to playing as soon as possible. There’s a part of you—a petty part—that hopes their phone call wakes Brittany up from a peaceful sleep. Just because you play nice for the kids doesn’t mean you can’t have small moments of joy at the thought of that woman being inconvenienced. 

“Your kids are crazy,” Eddie says to you, plopping back onto the couch and flinging his arm over your shoulder. “You should really rein them in.”

You give an exaggerated sigh and shake your head. “I’ve tried, but their father is even worse. Just enables the insanity.”

Eddie laughs, kissing your cheek before tilting your chin towards him so he can press his lips to yours. 

“Merry Christmas, my love.”

“Merry Christmas, Eddie.”

[bitumz]

Title: A withered Rose still has its thorns

Pairing: Cooper Howard / Lucy MacLean

Word count: 4k+

Rated: T [angst, depictions of past violence, hurt/comfort, mentions of death and loss, happy ending]

A/N: this was written for the incredible @valeriarts for this beautiful fanart they made me, and was heavily inspired by this insane Beauty and the Beast Ghoulcy Fanart they entered into the Ghoulcy Atomic Blast Event! As such, this responding work is absolutely riddled with BatB references, but is lovingly set in the Fallout canon world because I am an absolute goon for the old music and wasteland setting. A tale as old as time... Ao3 link

~~~~~

One year has passed since Lucy pulled the trigger on her own decayed mother, withered away and rotted from the inside out by the inevitable cruelty of the wasteland. A necessary evil she still tries to console herself with on such a gruesome anniversary, though these days the grizzly voice chiding her in her mind doesn’t sound like her own anymore. And Lucy thinks she's starting to realize exactly how decay feels.

One year of failed leads. Shattered expectations. The growing pains of being remade into a woman more familiar than she should be, even well beyond the reflection of a mirror. 

The old shopping center she and Cooper find themselves in that evening is almost painfully similar to the Super Duper Mart, old clothing and clocks, and half burnt candles and varying arrays of other decorative knick-knacks scattered about like hastily flung debris across the rotting floors. But unlike the mart, high walls divided large sections of the space, reminding her even harsher of the vault rooms back home, centered just so by a long, splaying hallway that seemed to go on for miles into the shadowed corridor. An old mall Cooper had called it, but to Lucy that meant nothing. 

She'd done what she could to keep her distance from him that day, him never being one to appreciate her foul moods, and instead of calling out the blood curdling hypocrisy of that whole idea (and the inevitable fight that would follow), she bit her tongue and did her best to sulk alone, in only the company of a few blessedly silent clothing displays and dusty bedroom furniture. 

One of the former caught Lucy’s attention more than the others, a headless mannequin donned in a flowing silk gown, royal blue cut through the middle with a bright yellow sash that drew in the curves of the waist and cascaded floor length at the rear with the rest of the flowing hemline to trail like a river of molten gold across the moldy tile. 

Her mother had always disliked her in dresses. And Lucy can't help but remember the hazy bits and pieces of her fifth birthday. Of her father presenting her with a beautifully boxed up gift. Her mother's disbelieving scowl over at the man as Lucy held the soft floral material up against her chest and beamed at her own reflection in the vault bathroom mirror. They way her father twirled her around the room in it for many a birthday after that, with only Norm, a few aging Cooper Howard movie posters, and blinding fluorescents overhead as audience, pride already flashing even brighter in her father’s eyes as every year she grew more and more into the perfect daughter she was expected to be. And though Lucy had been too young to consider yet just where that gift could have come from, those memories now scathed in the shadows, somewhere deep beneath her bones like a bustling city of thousands of people being blown to nothing more than ruin and ash. 

And at this point, after fighting through all the many foul factions of the wasteland for just over a year and searching for a sense of fairness and freedom for so long before, she was so so far beyond sick of monsters masquerading as man. 

It was why slipping from the confines of her vaultsuit and stepping into the rolling blue and gold layers of silk felt something like lying. Like putting on that ill-fitting wedding dress again and continuing to do as she was told. Adding her name to the list and filling the role set upon her from the very moment she came out screaming like a wild beast into her mother's arms and a carefully crafted existence. 

She tugged her own suit up the slender plastic hips of the mannequin in trade. Zipped it securely closed with the final brush of her hands tenderly across the shoulders.

The worn leather slacked too big around the petite figure, and Lucy felt her own muscles clench the slightest bit in her newly exposed chest and upper arms. Her time away from the vault had made her only stronger. She could feel it in the easing of their long days trudging through the sand and restless nights with Cooper beneath the stars. In his harsh lessons and even harsher truths. But looking back at her mother’s last little hand-me-down gift as it sat wrong on the headless figure before her made her feel a bit like a child again; lost and alone in a world that was still so very much too big.

So she did just as she would when she was little. Turned the oldies station on low on her Pip Boy. Sat cross legged upon the cold dingy floor. Sought out her mother’s advice.

“I’m not exactly sure what I’m supposed to do here.” Lucy said, eyes falling to her mismatched fingers in her lap. She curled them loose into the soft pile of golden fabric. “I wasn’t so sure I was going to make it through mourning you the first time around…” she admitted soft, swallowing at the pain rising heavy in her throat. “But this… now… knowing everything I do… I- I understand why you left. And I’m sorry I couldn’t help sooner… I’m so sorry…” And Lucy had long run out of water to waste on tears so she only clenched her fists tighter over her thighs. Waited quietly for a reassurance that would never come again, receiving only silence in answer apart from the lilting voice of Skeeter Davis softly reminding her from her wrist that the end of the world had already long since passed. 

Lucy could only blame her time above for being able to sense him well before she heard Cooper’s spurs clanging softly up the hall. And had it been even just a few months ago, she would have moved. Rose from the ground and stuck on a fake sunshine smile to avoid his prodding. Stood tall and still in the shadows like a predator in wait. But if he was going to continue to track her down every time she sought out solace, he was going to get what he got. Real and raw and just so very tired. 

“There ain’t shit for supplies,” his rumbling voice started before rounding the corner, “but I did find somethin’ interestin’ you may wanna have a look at wh…” Cooper stilled like the dead in the shattered frame of the once glass door. Rendered entirely silent, though she could feel the burn of his eyes across her newly bared arms, the curves of her shoulders, her dark hair falling loose and wild down her back. “What the fuck are you doin’?” He finally managed, sounding much farther away than he actually stood.

“Oh you know, just talking to my mom.” Lucy spoke flat to the mannequin, unmoving. “You’re interrupting.” She added in dismissal after a long dead-silent moment, but she only heard his boots close in closer behind her. 

So she held her breath and waited for the snide response to drawl from his lips. Something like ‘radaway’s losin’ its touch huh?’ she imagined first, or ‘Rose musta not took all the crazy with her when she left that fuckin’ vault...’

But as the pair of taunts grew hotter in her temples, nothing of the sort actually came from him... Which was odd enough in itself to make her finally look back over her shoulder. 

What she found was a world weary man who looked as lost as she felt. The darkness of the decaying building clinging to the protective cloak of his duster like a long drawn curse that was pained to let go. He carried the weight of his own deep in the lines of his scalded face, wearing his own many anniversaries of suffering in scattered jagged scars, jaw tense as if he fought not to set free a rising snarl at the sight before him, browline drawn beneath the shadow of his hat like she’d spoken a foreign language he couldn’t quite grasp. 

He eyed her hallowed vaultsuit as if personally affronted… Looked back down right at her, dark eyes sparking with something near that impenetrable mask of anger he so easily slipped on as they trailed slow down across the gathered yellow silk she fidgeted with at her waist, to the elegant tendrils of blue haloing in a wide puddle around her on the floor, shielding nearly as much of her body as the suit had, but still leaving her feeling so incredibly exposed to his studiously searching eyes. 

“What is it?” Lucy asked after a moment, unable to take the scrutiny any longer, heart rate rising as she shifted where she sat.

And Cooper blinked as if hearing her for the first. “What’s with the getup?”

Lucy forced the breath from her nose, long and heavy. Tugged a bit of the fabric up in a false curtsy. “Oh this old thing?” She tried to tease but fell flat. “I've never had a dress of my own, you know? Always something borrowed… and Mom used to say blue was my color.” Lucy smoothed the silk back down over her hips, missing the way the claim struck Cooper’s expression like the hail Mary of a well aimed brick. “My eyes, I guess.” She shrugged away.

“No.” Cooper disagreed low after a long beat. “It ain't your eyes.” Then he took the two last steps to stand near her side. Reached down a hand. “C’mon I wanna show you somethin’.” And for a moment Lucy sat unmoving, glancing away from Cooper’s gloved offering up to the plastic shell of her mother one last time. “She ain't goin’ anywhere.” Cooper promised soft after a while of watching her struggle, in a way Lucy now knew that only he had every right to vow. And it's what finally drew her hand out slowly into his. 

“Alright,” she breathed. And she rose.

—

The shop Cooper led her into was stacked floor to ceiling with disheveled shelves of books. Old wooden tables and chairs lined the front walls. Rows of cabinets had once cut lines through the center, now tipped and scattered by previous scavengers who must not have appreciated the incredibility of the rare bounty before her. But Lucy, however, was already mentally sorting through the contents of her pack and deciding what could be left behind to make more space.

It was the candlelight that eventually distracted her from the task. Lit aglow and sparsely set across the floor and on a few of the sturdier looking bookshelves all around the room, burning just bright enough to clear the murky darkness from the space…and it was the consideration of such a thing that emptied her chest, had Lucy steepling her hands over her mouth and gaping wide eyed all around her at the beautiful sight, the sheer number of books alone putting the vault’s ample collection to shame. But it was the man stood behind her in the darkened doorway that stopped her eyes. Silhouette framed in the soft glow of fire, features hidden almost entirely from view, but like the constant pull of the moon on the tide she could feel the weight of every ounce of his attention on only her. 

“Cooper,” Lucy called low, letting her hands fall slow to her sides. “This is incredible. I've never seen so many books in my life.”

And he ambled forward at his name like a bloodbug drawn to the life pumping quick through her veins, sharp features softened by the warm glow.

“Really?” He drawled in that way that preambled the rudeness she'd so long been awaiting. Downplaying the situation every time it got too close to - something. And he was never one to disappoint. “I thought all that Vault Tec propaganda down there would at least rival a two bit bookshop.” 

Lucy raised her eyes and turned away. Took another look about the room. Made her way to the closest shelf of books and let her fingertips brush lovingly across the dusted spines. Stacked a few aside that she had every intention of not leaving without. 

“It wasn't just propaganda,” Lucy informed, his jab unable to reach her properly through the soft flickering of flame. “Vault distributed media was delegated and traded by the overseers.” She sought him out again with the turn of her neck. “And as you know, ours was particularly fond of fairytales and cowboys. Villeneuve and Wister. That sort of thing. Not to mention the movies…” her smile was mean, a brazen curve of her lips.

And Cooper said nothing in riposte, instead simply closing the space between them with slow, lazy steps. Rested a hand against the shelf on either side of her head as she turned to face him, closing in and casting his shadow across her in a way that once would have made her feel small. 

Lucy only raised her chin, held his eyes above with the fire flickering hot in her own.

“Is that really what you wanna be doin’ today?” He asked her, a near growl as it rolled so close from his chest. “Defendin’ your daddy?” 

And the reminder twisted in her ribs like a spike, aimed and true; memories of laughter and life and being twirled around in loving arms slowly, agonizingly morphing into something more fowl in her gut like her father's guiltless eyes as he'd finally confessed aloud his many many sins down the barrel of a gun… Her mother's meatless corpse sagging gaunt in a chair nearby…

“Dance with me.” Lucy blinked, only truly registering the words as they settled skewed into her own ears. The violins dipped and drew out the start of Billie Holiday's, Crazy He Calls Me from her Pip Boy between them like a taunt and there was no better title for the way Cooper’s sharp eyes searched her face.

“Do what now?” 

“Dance with me.” Lucy repeated, just as unshaken. “You're right.” She nodded in truce. “I'd rather make new memories today than dwell on the old ones and my options are you or the mannequin.”

Cooper gauged her expression from mere inches above. Looked as if he awaited the splintering of her sanity beneath his glare. For the flinching call of her bluff as he raised his chin and thinned his eyes in a move she’d watched him use on countless others to sweeten a deal or seal a sentence. But Lucy only popped open the latch of her Pip Boy. Sat it nearby on the shelf. Held her hands out to him palms up in the dwindling space between them…

And Cooper took a step back and away. Squared his shoulders as if she had thrown a fist instead of anything near the beginnings of a dance. 

“Mannequin would suit better.” He said in faint protest, stilling only a moment longer to meet her unyielding eyes before sighing, shrugging his duster from his shoulders and draping it over the back of a nearby chair. Pulling his gloves off and dropping them unceremoniously into the splintering seat. 

And Lucy felt an altogether new sort of apprehension as he neared this time, sturdy arms straining against the worn fabric of his rarely seen sun-bleached undershirt. His bandolier of hastily crafted bullets glistened like sharp teeth across the visible rise and fall of his chest. He held a single bared hand out to her in offering, allowing her to take either that last fateful step forward or a silent final out…

And the thrill of it all was the best distraction she could ever ask for.

The fine hairs at the back of her neck rose in warning as she took this newest challenge in stride, just as she had the many before. “I don’t doubt it.” Lucy returned, resting a ruined-fingered hand over the solid curve of his shoulder. Cooper slipped her left into his and she couldn’t help but stare at that way her own something borrowed still looked pale and small against the rest of Cooper’s hand, wrapping warm and rough around her own. His other burned like a brand against her waist just as Billie sang of her own willingness to walk through fire and with it they were moving.

Cooper was a startlingly natural lead, sure in step and direction, guiding her along in soft curves of motion as if on instinct alone, whereas she stepped between his boots in thought absorbed angles, and it was a pre-war skill Lucy would not have imagined he cared to retain until that very moment. He’d always spoken so little of that time of his life, apart from Janey. And even if they weren’t spending an evening attempting to forget, she at very least knew better than to outright ask why. 

The thought brought her foot down hard on his for what she guessed was the second or third time judging by his growl.

“That supposed to be a two step?” Cooper rumbled over her instead. “‘Cause you’re movin’ like a goddamn sheet of plywood down there.”

And Lucy laughed a breathy thing at the very real exasperation in his tone.

“I’m distracted is all.” She forced herself to meet his eyes, so close and scalding in the candlelight. Reminding her even more of the last time she’d seen him display such a talent. The same way her father had taught her so many years ago… and she just couldn't help herself. “I remember this from the scene right after you killed Joey… Where you went back to town and danced with the widow in -”

“Deadhorse ya,” Cooper scathed in answer, spinning her silent in an almost violent twirl out to arms reach before snapping her back, her spine pressing flush against the buttons lining down his vest so that the “don’t start,” was hissed directly into her ear. It effectively scattered her thoughts and sent gooseflesh rising down the exposed skin of her arms for a much different reason than she knew was intended. But then he stilled them. Kept a forearm wrapped firm across the front of her waist. “Kick them boots off so you don’t take my fuckin’ toes too.” He nodded down over her shoulder, the brim of his hat brushing against her scattered hair. 

And she continued to follow his lead, shaking off one and then the other. Turned around again with minimal restraint as he took notice of her intention to face him once more. Lucy filled her lungs with the faint scent of old leather and smoke as his coarse fingers dragged slow patterns across the soft silk gathered at her hips. This time she brought both hands up to his shoulders. Felt his own slide home in a near perfect fit into the soft curves beneath her ribs. 

Then they were moving again, easier, a more natural sway that brought him the slightest bit closer. Allowed her to truly see his features painted warm beneath his hat in the firelight. Those most others would deem ugly, the proof heard often enough in wretched slurs and slithered curses from near every small bit of civilization they passed. But here in the safety of their solitude, the candles flickered deep against the rugged hollows of his face and brought somehow more life to his hazel eyes. And though they had always been so incredible to her, those eyes, something about the way the glow sparked in them now, subdued and scorching back at her in equal measure, was almost another distraction worthy of misstep. 

And she’d been doing so well until her eyes dropped to the side. Focused on the scattered splotches across his shoulders that proved his threadbare shirt had once been blue…

The music built and curled around them unimpeded by the realization, trumpets joining in with the strings to round out the repeated claims of being insane for all a number of reasons and Lucy couldn’t help but look down at her own feet again, strained and self deprecating as she focused on not stepping down onto his with the way her heart sped and cheeks flushed. His hands flexed at her waist.

“Relax.” Cooper bid low, undoubtedly sensing her struggle in her missteps and the growing tension of her muscles. “I ain’t in the mood for sparrin’ today and my drawin’ hand’s otherwise occupied, so you’re only fightin’ ya self.” 

The upward curve of his bowed lips and drawl of his words spoke only truths, something almost sad touching his eyes, and Lucy found trusting in him still came all too easy. She watched as the rise of his browline painted a told ya so look across his face while she focused only on her own breaths and the warmth of his tender hold about her waist, her movements growing more and more fluid between those very same hands that she’d seen reap death and destruction with ease for just over a year now in search of her father and the answers they were owed. Coming up just short on near every lead and tumbling almost as violently into each other's arms in one way or another so often now that it seemed only necessary for survival. 

“Perceptive.” She said finally. 

But this was something else… It was just so…

It was simply different, Lucy decided, rising up onto her bare toes to press her lips against Cooper’s just because she wanted to. Taking unapologetically in a way that he had been forcefully tearing into her from the beginning. And she softly parted her lips over his unmoving ones. Waited for the beast to surface and rear its fangs or draw its claws. To push her away with a shove or back her forcefully against the nearest surface in a deliciously dizzying coin toss of chance. Because, yes the beast was in there somewhere she knew well enough, but it was Cooper who had pulled her up from the floor of her vigil. Cooper who’d lit the candles that warmed the air around them; of a bookshop of all places. Cooper who still distracted her from her woes now in dance… 

And it was Cooper who kissed her back. Took her face into the sanctity of his hands to tilt and deepen it, his lips a hot brand across her own as he held her steady and tasted her slow in languid shallow swipes of his tongue along her lower lip. He parted from her just long enough for Lucy to draw a greedy breath from the shared air between them. Then he kissed her again, another sweet short press of his mouth over hers before he whispered “I gotcha somethin’ else,” near voiceless into the corner of her moony grin. 

Then he leaned back just enough to meet her eyes, his own expression sobering like he stood on the precipice of some great divide, and Lucy dared him to jump with the slight tilt of her head in question. 

Then he pulled out a drooping flower from the pocket of his slacks. A sun-bleached plastic rose that must have once been red before the end of the world and the crushing hands of time; petals welting and half melted... And her heart did a funny painful pair of skips in her chest at the sight of it held out to her in his own repeatedly scarred and sewn together hand. 

“What? It ain't enchanted or some shit.” Cooper said harsh, shifting an inch on his own two feet. A first misstep since they started this new dance. “I just know what it's like to not have a grave to mourn is all.” He tried again. “Don’t read too much into it.”

And what a feint it was to reach for in a room set aglow, filled to the brim with warmth and music; bound leather and parchment... 

Lucy’s smile was all straight white teeth.

“Of course not,” she succumbed, taking the rose from him carefully and tucking the stem safely away into the sash of her dress so that her hands were free to reach back out for what she really wanted. “I never really liked reading anyway,” she soothed, wrapping her wrists loose about the back of his neck and looking past him at a few new titles that would be soon added to her pile. “Though my bag has been feeling awful light lately.”

And Cooper chuckled soft, a deep rumble from his throat. 

“Fuck the books,” he said, breath ghosting warm against the sensitive skin at the side of her neck. Then his hands slid heavy through the silk pooled low at her back, drew her in close against his chest. “Pack the dress.” 

And for a long long while they danced together and forgot. 

[mynamesaplant]

Just a Dragon in its Den

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Just a little short story about @critterbitter's submas hc. Please go take a look at Critter's work, it is beautiful in every sense of the word. This particular story looks more into Drayden, the twins, and the tension that has built between them. This takes place right before they make it to Opelucid. Enjoy another bad phonetically written accent! One other thing to note: Kaita is called "mother" by her sons and Lucielle is "mom".

Little piece of my own hc: The particular Haxorus that helped raise Emmet and Ingo is informally known as Darling by everyone bc they heard Drayden referring to 'darling' after battles and thought it was her name.

Thank you to @ingo-ingoing-ingone for being my beta reader. I appreciate you immensely, my friend.

You can find my series of Critter inspired works on AO3.

Don't like to read on Tumblr? Find the stand alone piece here on AO3.

Enjoy!~

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 Sunlight still managed to get into his eyes even with the canvas canopy over their heads…

Ingo pried open a bleary eye, scanning from his left to his right. A moment ticked by before he flopped his head back down.

It was just him, and his waxy partner half-way fused to his sleep shirt.

He could hear his best friends talking just outside the tent flaps, the sizzling of oil in a pan which made him jerk upright. Litwick was launched as he was quick to change and get outside before they burned a hole in the tent… again.

Ingo loved Emmet and Elesa, but they couldn’t cook without supervision. They could barely cook with supervision.

“Make way!”

Emmet and Elesa jumped out of the way as Ingo barreled out from the dark interior of the tent. Quick to relinquish stove duty to his twin, Emmet shot Elesa a smug grin that she merely harrumphed at.

“Told you that would get him up.”

“You two are cruel,”  Ingo tried to say through a yawn, but it only came out as a garbled noise. However, the intention seemed to come across just fine.

“We’re not cruel! You sleep like a log!”

He ignored Elesa, groggily shifting the bacon that was just starting to spatter and hiss in distress.

You jerk! I was sleeping!

A displeased crackle and spark came from the tent flap, Litwick's wax running with the intensity of her lavender inferno.

“Apologies, Litwick. I was terrified our tent would turn to cinders if these two were manning the camp stove any longer.”

The flame atop Litwick’s head, at the moment burning high and hot, slowly began to whittle down into a manageable flicker. Ingo stooped, scooping his Pokémon up carefully, and setting her near the small propane tank that fueled the stove, the Ghost Pokémon grumbling the whole time as her eyes fluttered shut. This was a new gift. Their mother heard from Uncle Drayden that they were on their journey through Unova and she had purchased this from a camp store in Galar; in her letter she suggested that it might be useful. Camping was very big there apparently; she had seen many people using this model of stove, and she saw no issues with twelve-year-olds using flammable materials like propane.

Their mother, Kaita, rarely sent them anything and, when she did, it was usually impractical or downright dangerous. The boys had stared at the box waiting for them at the Poké Mart in Lacunosa Town, perplexed when they saw their mother’s name with the return address for a hostel in Galar. How she had even known that they were going to be in Lacunosa before heading to Opelucid was anyone’s guess, but they took the package and attempted to call the number on the postcard, stuffed in hastily judging by the torn edges and messy scrawl, but the man with a thick Galarian accent told them she had left just the other day.

Somehow that was unsurprising to Emmet and Ingo.

“So, what’s on tap for today?”

“We should reach Opelucid by noon,” Emmet said, pulling his knees to his chest as he watched Tynamo flitter around the Dwebble that had been following them since they had departed from Route 18.

The little crustacean had been tottering after them at a distance, disappearing into its shell when anyone was close, but joined in on the fun with the other Pokémon on occasion.

“That’s where Drayden works, right?”

“Correct, we will be visiting him.”

That seemed to give Elesa pause, looking from one twin to the other.

“Are you sure?” Emmet shifted, throwing a glance toward Ingo who minutely shook his head. Though the motion was subtle, Elesa didn’t fail to catch it – she was used to their rhythms and motions. For whatever reason, they were uncomfortable. “We don’t have to stop by the gym if-”

“That is very much appreciated, Elesa.”

“Yup, verrrry nice of you.”

“But everyone knows us in Opelucid. Even if we don’t go to the gym, he’ll know we’re there.”

Against her side, Elesa felt Emmet shudder and mutter something about old ladies. She wasn’t sure what that meant either, but she assumed it wasn’t good.

“What about old ladies?”

“All of the octogenarians like to sit in the plaza by the gym to read their papers, feed the Pidoves, gossip, and play chess. You must pass by them if you want to get to the Pokémon Center. They like to joke that they are Opelucid’s stalwart sentinels and they… tattle on us to uncle when we got into mischief. It is why we asked to stay in Anville Town most days.”

Ingo did not add that by that point, Drayden had stopped asking and would be gone for most of the day. It had only been when they were very young, usually following hand-in-hand in their uncle’s wake and scurrying behind his Haxorus when strangers got too close to them.

“They pinched our cheeks… Fingers like Kingler claws.”

Emmet was the one to actually answer their friend’s question, subconsciously rubbing his cheek as if it had just been pinched. After the first few times that had happened, Darling realized that the twins did not like being touched without permission, and the Dragon Pokémon would insert herself between Emmet and Ingo and the elder men and women. She would rumble out a warning when people got too close, flashing her glinting tusks despite the fact that they were covered with thick Bouffalant leather to prevent any accidents.

Only until Drayden commanded her to stop, she was aggressive with any strangers or anyone that the twins seemed uncomfortable with. At the very least, Emmet and Ingo were convinced that Darling would be happy to see them.

Breakfast was a drawn-out affair. Each bite seemed to be smaller and smaller as if to prolong the inevitable meetup. Packing up and hiking to the city was also glacially slow, Emmet and Ingo dragging their feet as they neared the dragon’s den. Elesa stopped them just as they passed the first few residences, looking them over with steely eyes that the twins shrank away from.

“We can turn back now.”

“No… We mustn’t delay any further.”

Ingo insisted, forging ahead, and chewing his bottom lip to shreds with the all-consuming anxiety that he and Emmet collectively felt.

Opelucid was an overwhelming place. It radiated an unexplainable energy that seemed to loom over all those who entered her walls. They remembered the streets well. Ingo’s eyes fixed on the place where Emmet had tripped and scraped his knee, crying and oozing blood on the whole walk back to the gym. Emmet nervously flicked his eyes to the place where a mother yelled at him and Ingo when her teenage son had been bullying them – he’d called them oblivious, creepy, unsettling… Emmet swallowed hard, reaching for Ingo’s shirt tail, and gripping it tight, rubbing his thumb over the fabric methodically.

 Ingo’s hand reached back and offered his brother’s wrist a light squeeze, trying to reassure him even if he didn’t feel so sure himself. 

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Despite doing everything in their power, the trio could not avoid the parties of the elderly that seemed to stalk the streets of the city. There was no escape from the simpering words and the ruddy cheeks from pinching fingers, the kids barely escaped with their cheeks and dignity intact.

The doors to the gym hissed open, sounding more like an angry Zweilous bickering over a meal than the squeak from the friction of the moving belt. They moved into the atrium tentatively, the twins bunched together while Elesa stood off to one side, eyeing them worriedly as a young woman leaned over the counter. Thankfully, Emmet and Ingo didn’t recognize her, which must have meant she was new. Her accent confirmed it.

“Welcome ta the Opelucid Gym, are ya here ta challenge the gym leadah?”

“Ah, no. We, uh, we are here to see him.”

Ingo tried hard not to stammer and failed miserably, somewhat baffled by the heaviness of the Castelian accent rolling off her tongue. The young woman pursed her maroon-stained lips before turning her gaze to the computer before her. There was some clicking, some squinting between the monitor and the two boys, and she finally picked up a walkie-talkie that Emmet and Ingo knew was there.

“Mista Drayden, there are some… youts here ta see ya.”

There was a pause.

“Send them in, Audrey.”

They tried not to think about how irritated their uncle already sounded, instead choosing to focus on the awe on Elesa’s face as she looked around the gym. Her blue eyes quite nearly bulged out of her skull when they walked under winding bridges, gasped at the beautiful carvings of dragons that adorned the whole facility, and she oohed and aahed at the way the placed made the perfect mechanical maze to make every challenger prove their mettle before squaring up to the dragon master himself.

They traveled up the ramps without hesitation, Emmet and Ingo giving appropriate responses to the gym trainers who recognized them. A few of the older trainers stopped the trio, cooing over the twins who tried not to cringe at the unwanted touches and comments that only served to make them more anxious about their inevitable encounter.

The last ramp up to the arena was just ahead and Ingo took a deep breath, Emmet being the one to release – a frankly inadequate coping mechanism when faced with something like this. Before either could begin the ascent, Elesa leapt before them, and gave them an appraising look, the fierce blue tinged with a soft concern.

Her best friends did not act this way.

“Spill. What’s the matter?”

She didn’t give them a chance to look at each other as she inserted herself between them, there would be no silent agreement on how they would deflect her questions. Emmet flinched back, finding the seam of his bandana, and running over it with the flat of his thumb; Tynamo buzzed softly below his chin which was just as comforting for the young man. Ingo, the one directly under Elesa’s scrutiny, was standing firm – although, if one looked closely, they could see his knees shaking beneath the cuff of his shorts. He could feel it in his back and shoulders, so heavy from the anxiety that it was dragging him face first towards the ground like it was the planet’s gravitational pull.

There was no lying to her. She would wheedle it out of them before they took another step.

“The situation is… precarious. It has been more than a fortnight since we have spoken to Uncle.”

Elesa, nose scrunched in confusion, looked to Emmet for a translation.

“More than a month.”

Now he was fiddling with his hair, tugging and twisting his gray locks that framed his face rapidly between his spindly fingers. Tynamo offered another buzz, the tingle felt familiar and comforting.

“So? I haven’t spoken to my father in even longer.”

Behind her, Ingo pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled slowly. The situation is not the same. Elesa wanted nothing more than to go on her journey to be away from her father. Emmet and Ingo…

“Lesa…” There was more to their story in the city of Opelucid, but neither twin had the heart to delve into it. “We should not dillydally, uncle is waiting.”

Without another word, Ingo brushed past her, and Emmet was on his heels, both practically running up the ramp, which just felt like such an odd juxtaposition to earlier this morning where they seemed intent on moving slower than Slugmas.

Elesa tried to keep a close eye on her friends as they greeted their uncle, the three of them shifting uncomfortably like the idea of a hug seemed impossible. Drayden’s face was usually hard to read thanks to the copious amount of facial hair, but there was a pinched quality to his expression.

That detail was quickly replaced with exasperation as a large, leathery Pokémon tore across the arena at a breakneck pace. Skidding to a stop just before them, the beast lunged forward and -

“Haxorus!”

Ingo spluttered, his front coated head to toe in slobber that he was wiping from his eyes. The other two kids weren’t spared from the assault, not even Blitzle, who shook out his striped coat of the sticky saliva with an indignant snort. The bubble of tension seemed to ease a little with this interruption, but it was still palpable.

Tynamo remained close to Emmet, nestled in his bandana, and offering soft nips to his jaw and chin. Litwick was doing the same, unable to conjure up witty dialogue when Ingo’s soul looked so withered and violently flickering with each interaction with his uncle. Even Blitzle, who was first and foremost Elesa’s Pokémon, was sticking close to the twins. His training as an aid Pokémon was kicking in to shove his snout into the boys’ floundering hands so they could have an outlet for their pent-up anxiety.

Elesa attempted to catalog each word, each expression, each vocal fluctuation – but they seemed so… normal? What were her friends so worried about?

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Drayden was across the arena with Elesa and Blitzle, introducing her to his large, and very fluffy, Altaria. Emmet watched over the top of his magazine; this issue was dedicated to Dragon Pokémon found in the Alola region, and he elbowed his twin when he saw Drayden cast his gaze in their direction. Although Darling was curled around them, her tusks bound to prevent injury, Emmet and a groggy Ingo sank into her flank to make themselves as small as possible.

Darling woke up with a rumble, nudging her snout against them before lightly nibbling on their hair to put them at ease. Drayden seemed to take a deep breath as he approached, taking a seat on the bench beside them, and looking at his nephews out of the corner of his eye.

“Your friend likes Altaria.”

“Altaria is nice.”

Emmet’s reply was more like a squeak than anything. Ingo had taken interest in the skin on Darling’s neck. There it was again, the pressure on that bubble of tension becoming unbearable once again. Without Elesa there to deflect, it was like back all those years before.

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All of them were thinking the same thing: Kaita not so quietly arguing with Drayden, the twins covering their ears because they didn’t like the shrill tone their mother’s voice had taken. The four-year-olds didn’t really understand what was happening, but they were used to the yelling.

Mom and mother had been doing it for weeks.

“I can’t handle them on my own!”

Kaita had snapped, her eyes bright and her mouth curled into an awful snarl. Drayden offered her an equally ferocious growl, too much like their draconic partners than either of them cared to admit. He and his fraternal twin never saw eye to eye, but this?

He wanted to tell Kaita that that was too fucking bad. She and Lucielle should have thought this through a little longer. Kids were not marriage savers. Now she was trying to dump them on him? No fucking way.

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Drayden blinked hard, allowing the blessed dark to cool the bubbling anger he felt toward his sister. This was not Emmet and Ingo’s fault… He had never addressed this incident with them before, had he? Of course, they had been old enough to remember. The Dragon Master picked on their discomfort quickly and he was just as happy to leave them home than he was to take them on his hour-long commute to Opelucid.

In that moment, it occurred to Drayden just how awful that sounded. He had never really thought of his nephews as being lonely, not when they had each other. He left them at home with Darling when they were still young, but that had only been a few years. They had been abandoned by their mothers and then again by him.

This knowledge felt like bile stinging the back of his throat.

“I love you boys.”

Whatever his nephews had expected him to say, it hadn’t been that. Drayden propped his elbows on his knees, not unlike Emmet did when he was chatting with his brother and looked at them with something akin to a pleading look.

“We love you too.”

Ingo’s response was so… Mechanical. A reflex. Drayden seemed pained and they both cringed, waiting for their uncle to adopt that tone of voice they were so well acquainted with by this point – that horrible concoction of disappointment and frustration that was all too familiar to their ears.

“No, Emmet… Ingo…” He got up, stepping toward them and crouching down, Darling temporarily swinging her head around to butt her snout under his chin affectionately before resuming her doting on the twins. He hated how they shrank away, cowering like they expected him to yell – had he ever yelled at them? No, not as far as he could remember, but perhaps his silence spoke volumes about his bitterness. “Boys,” he croaked, schooling his expression into something softer (which he only just realized was something he and Ingo had in common), “I am very proud of you. I’m proud of all you’ve accomplished.

Two sets of gray eyes blinked, a staccato of confusion at this admission, as if unsure how to process that compliment.

“… Thank you.”

Ingo said, a gravelly quality to his voice that made it quieter than its typical boom. Emmet’s hand was shaking, but Drayden recognized that a precursor to a form of stimming. It was something that evolved from learning sign for Elesa for both twins; Emmet used to snap his fingers and his brother hummed (usually quite out-of-tune and loudly).

“May I join you? You look quite cozy there.”

Emmet and Ingo scooted over, leaving room between them so their uncle could sit. They were still a little confused by the unexpected behavior from him, but Drayden asked for permission to put his arms around them, and they didn’t reject him. The aversion to touch made unprompted touch nearly unbearable for all except themselves and more recently Elesa, but Drayden seeking their acceptance felt… different – it felt nice.

“Your Pokémon’ve gotten a lot stronger. I can tell these things, you know.”

Gradually, Drayden felt Emmet and Ingo relaxing into him while they told him all about their adventures. They showed off Tynamo and Litwick, the latter looking a tad smug when Drayden said she had a menacing aura.

“We also have this Dwebble… Well, perhaps that is not quite accurate. He shares the same carriage as us and travels the same tracks, however, he insists on remaining unaccompanied.”

The Pokémon in question was observing from under the bench Drayden had vacated – oh my, nearly an hour ago, those boys really knew how to fill in the time. Dwebble’s eyestalks twitched, its body cautiously retracting into its shell now that it was the center of attention.

“He is shy, yup!”

Drayden offered a nod, crooking his finger at the small, shelled Pokémon. Dwebble, body still half hidden, obeyed the unspoken command and skittered forward.

“See, he has a magnificent specimen on his back. I have not looked into the logistics of whether sediments found in or on Crustle and Dwebble affect their battling, but he has a King’s rock. It is spectacular!”

Their uncle nodded with agreement, Darling grumbling encouragingly at the smaller Pokémon with his approach.

“I must agree. He’s spectacular… Have you asked him if he’d like to join you?”

Drayden listened carefully as Ingo explained the fiasco that was Route 18 – Frillish and all - and, although he was tempted into chastising Ingo, he held his tongue about his nephew’s so-called inside voice. In fact, Ingo parroted some of the lessons that Drayden had attempted to instill in him. He was trying to work on his “volume output”. The Dwebble seemed to be quite used to them now, scraping a claw against the sole of the Gym Leader’s shoes, which inexplicably reminded him of his nephews yet again.

“Such a shame. Ingo really likes rocks, too,” Emmet said with a sympathetic shake of his head when his brother sighed much too heavily for someone of his age. Drayden’s brow was furrowed, watching as the Bug Pokémon’s eyes darted to Ingo, and he said,

“Ask him again.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Ask Dwebble to join your team. Pokémon, just like humans, can have a hard time saying what they mean. Sometimes they need help or a little nudge. He’s come this far with you, hasn’t he?”

Ingo seemed to contemplate this for a moment, they certainly had gone the distance with Dwebble at their side…

Ingo leaned forward, trying to tamp down his excitement – just in case his uncle’s instincts were off.

“Dwebble… Are you interested in... Would you join me on this journey?”

 The Pokémon blinked up at the boy, eyestalks tilting to one side and then the other. In that moment, it felt as though all the air was sucked out of the room, the anxiety unwittingly rocketing up with each second that ticked by where the Pokémon before them didn’t answer.

Dwebble raised his pincers tacked against the ground, his eyestalks swaying to a music that only he seemed to hear, only for the Pokémon to instantly shoot back into his shell when a sonic boom shattered the silence.

You better get used to the human Exploud if you wanna be a part of this team.

Litwick groused, her annoyance was mostly for show at the pure joy in her trainer’s eyes when he picked up Dwebble. Spinning around in tight circles, Ingo wasn’t even able to say anything, only a mix of laughter that verged on happy sobs, as he held his new Pokémon close to his chest.

Emmet watched on with a bright smile, happy for his brother’s first genuine catch, allowing the bright glow of the moment to not be stymied by the fact that they had no money for Pokéballs and were fresh out because they lent all theirs to Elesa to catch some Plusle and Minun on Route 6 (with no resulting captures).

“King! You shall be called King.”

How does this walking pile of rocks have a name before me!?

Litwick shrieked, batting at Ingo’s ear in aggravation to no avail. Drayden watched on, beard obscuring the placid smile on his face.

Good. It was time to make better memories here in Opelucid.

[toffeebrews]

you're the last one to receive the gift i hope you know......... 🪨🪨🪨💥💥💥

------

It is just another boring Tuesday. T-Mart, the only convenience store in the whole two-mile radius, is empty at this time of the day where the sun is at its highest and almost everyone is at work. There are no customers, only the three workers loitering in boredom, waiting for the shift to finish. Murder is flipping through a tabloid magazine, Horror is manning the register, and Killer is doing her nails – all of them periodically glancing at the clock to see when they will be released from this hell.

“huh, have you heard the new scandal of dream yet?” Murder asks out of the blue, breaking the stale silence among them.

“dream… like our ceo’s brother? that dream?” Horror perks up.

“yeah,” Murder says, her mouth curved into a devious smirk. “apparently she got caught sneaking out of the hotel with ink. you know… the famous musician.”

“wait, isn’t ink married? to that wwe performer – crux or something?”

“cross, yeah. here, look at this.” Murder flips the magazine to show Horror the salacious photo: Dream in a trench coat and Ink in an oversize hoodie, both looking like deers caught in the headlights.

Killer snorts from across Horror, which is as close to a laughter as she gets. “that is the least stealthy thing i’ve ever seen. trench coat and sunglasses? that’s one face mask away from announcing to the world that you’re doing something you shouldn’t be doing.”

Murder smirks back. “apparently her publicist is saying this is a business meeting.”

“at 2 am?” Killer grins, propping her chin on her hand. “they should’ve met in broad daylight. no one suspects shady business at brunch time.”

“they’d get caught anyway,” Horror muses. “the universe really loves to create chaos.”

Yep, just another regular Tuesday.

Until the wall explodes.

“oh, come on,” Horror groans, ducking under the register as chunks of drywall fly all over the place.

Through the dust strides a figure in a long black coat, slightly floating off the ground. A web of strings shoots from the figure, quickly covering the whole area with glitching patterns and noises of a dying Wi-Fi modem. The air hums with electricity as the apparent villain points at the three unfortunate minimum wage workers.

“fear me, you abominations – for i am error the destroyer! surrender your worthless lives to me, or face your deletion off this world!” The villain proclaims, her voice crackling like a compressed MP3 file.

The trio exchange unimpressed glances.

“seriously?” Horror raises an eye ridge at Error. “that’s your line? that’s so corny. where did you get that from? straight-to-dvd trash bin?”

Error’s fingers glow ominously. “do not dare to underestimate me, you-”

Murder interrupts whatever is about to come out of the villain’s mouth. “oh, we’re shaking in our boots,” she deadpans, glaring at the destroyed wall with a twitch in her eye. “every week there’s a new evil overlord wannabe around these parts. blah blah world domination blah blah you’re gonna be my minions – we get it already. take the cash. or burn the place down. we’re not getting paid enough for this.”

“keys are under the fire alarm box,” Killer chimes in. “just don’t take the slushie machine though – it’s the only thing keeping us alive here.”

Error’s face glitches. She clearly doesn’t expect this level of apathy from her soon-to-be hostages. “insolent worms! you will submit!” she screeches.

“big words for someone who looks like a tiktok filter,” Killer quips, now holding a boxcutter and spinning it in her hands. “also, that’s just a horrendous costume. Where did you get it? The bargain bin?”

“how dare you- this is a custom design!”

“yeah, it shows.” Killer tilts her head, grinning. “and not in a good way.”

“well,” Horror says to the side, squinting at her phone. “according to chirper updates, the starlights should be here in three minutes. so if you’re gonna finish your monologue, you should probably do it now before they haul your ass to who-knows-where.”

Error splutters, her glitches spreading to the rest of her body as she’s incandescent with rage. “you- all of you insolent freaks! you will regret this!”

“not more than this job, i wager,” Murder says, her voice bored. “you know, if you want to be an evil nuisance, you can just go to business school. like our blood-sucking ceo.”

Error looks like she might implode on the spot. “you can’t just- you can’t-”

“aww, what’s the matter, glitchy?” Killer drawls. “the school of evil didn’t teach you how to deal with a little bit of criticism?”

Before Error can say anything in response, another wall explodes, showering people with even more debris.

“STOP RIGHT THERE, ERROR!!” a chorus of voices exclaim. The local magical girl squad – the Starlights – have arrived in all the pastel and frilly glory, posing dramatically in the rubble. There’s Solar, the leader of the group holding a bow in her hands. Prism, who brandishes a giant calligraphy brush. And Aqua, who wields two billy clubs. Any villain would hate to cross their paths, and Error isn’t an exception.

The customer service trio quickly hides somewhere when the fight starts, but still peeks in to see what’s happening. The Starlights launch into their usual spiel about love, righteousness, and protecting the innocent, while Error’s glitching presence seems to falter even more. Murder leans toward Killer.

“10g saying that villain will break in five minutes because of the speeches instead of the fighting.”

“pfft, should be three minutes max.” Killer counters.

Three minutes later, Error is wrapped in sparkly ribbons, courtesy of the Starlights, and hauled away as the squad strikes yet another triumphant pose. The day is saved, but the store is probably not. The workers exchange another look with each other.

“thanks for cleaning up the mess,” Horror calls out sarcastically as the magical girls prance out of the store through the hole they created. “urgh, can we go home now?” she asks, slumping even further onto the counter.

“nope. still got four hours left,” Murder replies, uncaring as she picks up the discarded magazine and continues reading it.

Killer sighs, flipping the boxcutter back into her pocket. “i’m gonna break the slushie machine.”

“do it,” Horror says, completely deadpan, her eye staring straight at Killer. “i dare you.”

Just another Tuesday.

YAYAYAYAYA I BREEEZED OVER IT I GOTTA REALLY READ IT BUT ITS SO FUNNY. The way they're so nonchalant is the funniest thing ever, they're just trying to survive their shift bruh 💔

[mollywog]

WIP tag game

Thank you for the tag @thelettersfromnoone @thesunpersists!!

The first snippet from the Christmas Market prompt

Katniss cranes her neck down the aisle of stalls as she straightens jars for the sixth time in the last ten minutes. Madge had gone off to mingle and ‘network’, leaving her behind to guard the booth and fret.

This event could make or break them.

They’d been doing the local small business mart circuit for almost a year now, but nothing as big as the Capital City Christmas Market. The vendor fee alone had been nearly four times the usual cost, but with a much broader audience than the ones they’d been doing around their rural hometown, it was too good an opportunity to pass up.

However, although they were relatively new to the scene, they were seasoned enough to know location was vital.

‘Praline et circenses’ sold paper cones of warm spiced nuts, but the real money, of any was to be made, came from the prepackaged mixes, boxes of brittle, and jars of praline sauce - perfect for gift giving during the holiday season.

If she and Madge had it their way, they would be among the craft vendors where shoppers would be enticed by the smells of brown sugar and cinnamon and stay to purchase a bag to give or to save for later.

Unfortunately the odds were not in their favor.

The market’s organizer, one Effie Trinket, had placed their stall in the Cornucopia, the dining section of the market, and when they’d inquired about a transfer, Mrs. Trinket had been polite but firm in her refusal: all the designated snack booths outside the Cornucopia were claimed by returning shops with more seniority: better luck next year!

It was a blow.

Even the specialty foods section, with its salsas, honey, and bags of homemade pasta would have been preferable. Afterall, If you were committed enough to venture into the food court, why would you settle for a snack?

It’ll be fine, Madge kept saying and Katniss wanted to believe, but as much as she loved her business partner and friend, she couldn’t help feeling Madge was too quick to dismiss her concerns. The stakes just weren’t the same for them. No matter how much Madge protested, she’d always have the safety net of a college degree and Senator father with money and connections. Katniss, on the other hand, would have nothing if their business went under.

Katniss tried to think positive as she surveyed the other booths. They seemed to have the market cornered in terms of nuts; that was at least true. And there were some familiar faces here too. Rue with her Ren faire style whole turkey legs was three booths down and though she couldn't see her, the smell of a Sae concoction was unmistakable in the air. They might suggest Pralines to customers if promoted: word-of-mouth was invaluable... This could still work!

Katniss was just coming around to the idea that they might not be completely screwed when the bakery booth directly across from them put out their kiosk. The top of the board read:

~ Praline Pound Cakes ~

[enderwolf91]

☆彡彡 A New Start ミミ☆

synopsis: life has become dull working your office job, unable to go out and enjoy yourself anymore. upon opening a letter your grandfather left to you after his passing, you find yourself on a bus to a new life, hoping to find that spark you so craved for in life.

word count: ~2.6 k

warnings: none!

notes: rewrite of this. the first part to (hopefully) a good series. this is the first fic I've written for an audience in a long time, and I want to put a lot of effort into each chapter, so I apologize if updates to this are slow. I also apologize if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes, English isn't my strongest subject despite speaking it my entire life lol. Enjoy!

“Three more? I just got done with the two you gave me yesterday!”

“I'm just here to give you your assignments, if you have problems take ‘em to the boss, Daniel.”

A loud scoff comes from the other side of the cubicle's wall, the sound of papers being taken with an aggravated force. “Whatever…”

A few moments later, a short figure takes up the opening to your cubicle, a man you're unfortunately familiar with as he holds out two Manilla folders with a bored expression. “Your next assignments for the week.” He speaks as if on the verge of yawning, casually glancing around the small, gray box at the minor number of decorations taped to the walls.

“Thanks, Paul,” you respond, less than enthralled to see more folders to join the stack on your desk. “I'll get started on them tomorrow morning.”

Turning back to your computer, the lines of words and numbers on the document you've been writing have started blurring together. But the looming presence still in the doorway of the cubicle draws you back to Paul, who's still looking around at the papers and photos you've taped up and the cliche cat poster the company gifted everyone last year that's started to wear and tear at the edges.

“Is there… something I can help you with, Paul?” You question him, biting back a grimace as his ears turn a light red as he finally looks at you.

“Hm? Oh! Actually, yeah, I wanted to ask if you were free tonight? There's a… bar nearby if you want to get drinks after work?” He fidgets with the stack of folders in his arms, shifting from one foot to the other as he can't seem to meet your eye.

It's the third time he's asked this month.

“Paul…” You sigh, “I appreciate the invitation… but I can't. There's stuff I need to finish by the end of the week, and with more work being piled on top of that. I just- I don't have time to go out.”

The disappointment is evident in Paul's expression as he gives a tight-lipped smile, “right. I'll… let you get back to work then.”

“Yeah…” You drift off, slowly turning back to your computer as Paul shuffles to the next cubicle, his voice notably less energetic than before.

Sighing, you go back to typing away on your computer, the hours of the work day passing by without you. Though, your own words keep echoing in your mind and distract you from work.

I don't have time to go out.

It's an unfortunately true statement. Ever since you got this corporate job for Joja Mart, you just haven't had time to spend on anything else. Oftentimes staying late at the office to finish a report, or taking the work home when the janitors eventually had to lock up the building for the night. Though the mountain of work does come with a generous pay, enough to pay for your rent and groceries and then some. Money saved up for the off chance you did get time to go out, go to the mall or a bar, but that day has yet to come.

Fortunately, the company graced you with some paid vacation time for your hard work, allowing you to fly back home for your grandfather's funeral. Long expected but still unfortunate, he was somehow always the optimist, telling everyone around strive for a long life like he had, strive for a happy life like he lived.

And while he gave everyone else in the family small trinkets and heirlooms, you received an envelope with your name written on it and a small note.

‘Open when you want a new start’

The envelope sat heavy in your bag on the trip back, and now sits waiting in the top drawer of your desk, your curiosity of what's inside still hot on your mind as you pull open the drawer.

The envelope sits atop a stack of graphs and old papers, a crimson red seal plastered to the front with an unfamiliar emblem, a sort of peace sign looking symbol you've never seen before.

The note written above the seal calls out to you, ‘a new start’ drawing your curiosity out even more as you pick up the envelope. Using your office scissors, you carefully open the envelope and pull out the paper folded inside.

Seeing the handwritten makes you smile softly, the neat print your grandfather seemed to have perfected being a bit shaky and smudged from his old age.

‘So, my dear, you want to start anew, huh? A change of scenery? Fortunately, I didn't leave you with just a silly old letter while the others got gifts. I own a plot of land in Pelican Town that I'm leaving to you. It's an old farm I used to live on when I was about your age and moved away from home, needing a change in scenery. Take good care of the place for me, will ya? The residents of the town knew me well, I'm sure they'll be happy to hear you're coming to town. The number at the bottom will call an old friend of mine, let him know you're on the way and he'll take care of you. With love, your old pa

Jack: xxx-xxx-xxxx’

It was a stretch, moving to a town that was over a seven hour bus ride away, packing up all your belongings from your apartment and saying goodbye to the company that's paid your monthly living expenses for the past few years; all to live on a farm that would become your only source of income, selling the fruits of your labor and not knowing anyone in town.

The bus wasn't as comfortable as you were hoping, but you could lay across the row of seats since there weren't many other people, and no one who was on the same journey as you're on. It was nice watching the world go by in the comfortable silence of the bus.

The bustle of the city and slowness of the traffic opened up to calm suburbs and residential areas, a park passing by every so often with children and dogs running around with parents watching over them; which all faded to the quiet of the countryside, rolling hills of grass and the occasional spotting of trees, it was then you drifted off to sleep to the lull of the bus driving and lack of bright lights.

The next time your eyes open, you're still driving and now you're going through a mountainous area. There's a few people on the bus again, all sticking to themselves until the bus stops at a town, though not the one you're going to as the doors close and the bus driver heads back onto the road.

It's only when you go through a tunnel and pop out the other side you start to feel like you're getting close. The scenery is starting to clear and open up more, and just as you look out the window you drive past a sign signaling the next stop to be Pelican Town.

Seeing the sign sends a jolt through you, realization of what you're doing settling in as you look down at your luggage stuffed under the seat. It dawns on you, you just threw away the security of the life you had to move a day away from anyone you knew and potentially lose everything you have, all because you couldn't stand your office job anymore.

“Pelican Town,” the bus driver's voice shocks you to focus, seeing you've stopped at a bus stop with the town's welcome sign outside.

“Right… thanks,” anxiety crawls through you as you grab your bags, giving the driver a nice tip before stepping off the bus with a shaky breath.

And before you can change your mind, the doors close behind you and the bus is taking off again. Without you.

Looking around, the bus stop is nice, unexpectedly away from the main town. Instead it's in a nice fenced area, a few trees, benches, and a paved path leading out of the area. It looked more like a rest stop than the entrance to a town.

Even more to your surprise, a voice calls out to you from the paved path. “Hey! I knew I heard the bus come by, you must be Samuel's grandkid, right?”

A tall woman approaches you with a kind smile, her white locks pulled back into a tight ponytail as she brushes off the sleeves of her dark green jacket.

“Uhm… yeah, I am,” you nod shyly, tightening your grasp on your bag as the woman greets you up close.

“I'm Sojourn. Jack said you'd be coming to town soon. C'mon, I'll show you to your grandpa's old place.”

Without saying much, you follow Sojourn down the path, taking a right at the fork and following until you see another fence up ahead and a large cabin-like home comes into view.

“Here it is,” Sojourn hums, opening the gate onto the property. “It's seen some better days, or years, but it's all yours now.”

Your eyes are wide as you take in the plot of land. Trees are everywhere, though not dense enough to make it a forest, weeds and miscellaneous plants fill the ground and leave little room to move around. Large logs and fallen over trees and rocks litter about the area. A large pond near the gate is filled with lily pads and overgrown roots, but would make a nice place for fish to live in once cleaned up.

The only part the seemed to be taken care of was the small area near the gate and house, clear of bushes and weeds and any overgrowth.

“We took some time fixing up the house for you, though most of the old furniture was rotten and broken down so we had to get rid of it,” Sojourn explains. “But, we got you a new bed, dining table, fixed up the fuse box and got you a new TV. It's only the essentials, but we didn't want you left with nothing on your first night.”

“Wow…” You can't help but stare up at the house, seeing it's bigger than your childhood home. “Did… Grandpa build this place?”

“From the ground up, though he had some help,” a man comes out of the house, the door swinging fully open. You recognize his voice as Jack's from when you called him a week ago, the night you had opened the envelope. Jack closes the door behind him, before properly greeting you with a warm smile. “Good to meet you, kid. After I heard what happened with Sam, I hoped he mentioned this place to someone, or at least sold it to someone so it didn't go to waste. Glad to see he kept it in the family though.”

“I don't think anyone in our family knew about this place,” you admit, unable to recall any stories about a farm from your grandfather.

“Sounds likely,” Jack chuckles. “Old coop didn't tell us he had kids, let alone grandkids, until he was too old to make the trip out here. Got his letters about your entire family about a year ago.”

“That's when Jack wanted to start cleaning up this place,” Sojourn adds. “Kept coming out here by himself and disappearing all day. Found him out here all tuckered out from pulling weeds and decided to help him out.”

Jack sighs, looking across the plot of land, “don't know how he took care of this place by himself. Took us a year to just freshen up this much. But he had rows of crops planted year round, and had everything nice and organized. Too bad the old barn and coops all rotted away, the greenhouse took plenty of weather damage too.”

The thought makes a weight sink in your stomach, the anxiety of your situation surfacing again, the realization of your new life coming to light.

Just as you start to look around in a panic, a warm hand lands on your shoulder, Sojourn speaking with a sincere kindness, “if you need help with anything, don't hesitate to ask. Once you've settled into the house, we can introduce you to some people in town who can help spruce this place up. I'm sure Satya and Zarya wouldn't mind planning out a new chicken coop and barn for the future.”

“Torbjorn can take a look at Sam’s old tools and fix them up for you too,” Jack adds with a nod. You look between them, names going over your head as you focus on the fact that there's an entire town of people your grandfather knew, yet never mentioned to your family

“Why don't you settle in for now, get used to the place, work on the landscape if you feel ready for it,” Sojourn suggests to you, realizing you're still carrying your luggage, and have yet to see inside your new home.

“There's a box with some farming supplies inside. For now, don't worry about paying for food, stop by the general store or the tavern whenever you need to eat. Once you start growing crops, you can sell them to the general store to start your income. Just know, you gotta work to get paid, just like your grandpa did. So work hard on your farm, kid,” Jack rubs the top of your head, ruffling your hair up before he leaves with Sojourn, letting you go inside to settle into your new life.

The moment you go inside, you drop your bags and fall back on to the bed, thankful for how soft it is as you sink into the covers. The strain of sitting and laying on a bus seat for so long puts a strain on your spine, the pain easing away as you stare up at the ceiling, contemplating what to do next.

You'd never worked on a farm before, let alone ran one on your own. You had some experience in taking care of plants thanks to your mother and her backyard garden, and your grandfather used to let you watch him make things in his garage, he had shown you how to use his power tools and how to put together pieces of wood. You had the knowledge of what to do, but not the experience enough to make it your lifestyle, your new way of living.

It seemed that had to change then.

Sitting up, you look around the open space, finding the box of supplies Jack had talked about. Inside of it you find old tools; an ax, hoe, watering can, and pickaxe; a large bag of fertilizer, and packets of parsnip seeds.

It's a start, and you manage to carry the supplies outside to the open patch of land in front of the house.

Getting a hold on the tools was a bit awkward to get used to, and having to dig through the lily pads to fill the watering can was a close call to falling into the pond, but by the time the sun began to set you stand in front of a plot of planted seeds, all watered and fertilized to grow fast and well.

And the first call of an owl makes you slouch and yawn, already feeling sore from the extensive physical activity you haven't experienced since taking your old office job. Barely conscious as you shower and change into pajamas, you slide into the new bed, feeling like heaven under your exerted body, the blanket providing a warm comfort as you easily drift off to the sounds of nighttime bugs and critters.

[kyannnite]

i’ve decided to keep a record of my current phantom of the opera-related collections… so. in order (under the cut):

1. my bookshelf, left to right:

- my first ever copy of phantom of the opera (de mattos, but also including a bunch of other gothic stories)

- a copy a friend gifted to me which is abridged in a very peculiar way where it completely leaves out the first chapter (de mattos, but without the first chapter)

- another copy of the de mattos translation that i used for my “intro to phantom of the opera” night with my boys (my friend group)

- lowell bair translation

- mireille ribiére translation

- david coward translation

- phantom by susan kay

- the phantom of manhattan by frederick forsyth (for those unaware. what love never dies is based on)

- dvd copy of phantom of the opera 25th anniversary performance live at the royal albert hall

- dvd copy of the love never dies proshot

- dvd copy of phantom of the opera (2004) movie adaptation directed by joel shumacher

- dvd box set + photobook of Studio Life’s stage adaptation of phantom by susan kay (is it entirely in japanese? yes. do i speak japanese? no. but they’re very good regardless)

2. a postcard a friend (pio thank you) bought me in paris that i have since framed and look at every day

3/4. POP MART universal monsters erik figurine (comes with a little rose and magnetic mask that you can take off and put back on)

5. incredible erik ornament that pio was also able to grab in paris at the palais garnier gift shop. he looks so silly (according to them they were very low on erik stock but the christine stock looked like no one had bought any. fucked up honestly)

6. i do have a few more things that pio snagged for me that i haven’t found places for yet. but i Will. and i am also going to try to track down my tickets/playbill for the LND US tour that i may still have lying around in my childhood home somewhere… a time before i realized how important seeing that performance was…

i’ll update this post with reblogs as i acquire more which is at this point inevitable. i’m in too deep. if you’ve read this far thank you for indulging me this was very fun to write

[songue85]

I've made a small list of Rules for Nuzlockes, ideas and suggestions I sorted from other sites - and a couple that I made myself - to help guide future Players.

This is in no way a complete and exclusive list, many other ideas and suggestions may be added/altered later on.

Also, I made them as a checklist to help future Players to better plan their own future challenges.

DA MAIN RULES:

1 - Only the first wild Pokémon encountered in a route or area can be caught. If the player fails to catch it (ie. it flees or faints), their opportunity to catch a Pokémon in that area is lost. 2 - Any Pokémon that faints must be released or boxed permanently. It is considered “dead” for the rest of the challenge. 3 - The player must nickname all Pokémon they catch or obtain.

Bonus Conditions:

( ) PokéBall Clause: The run effectively only starts after the Player can have Pokéballs to start captures, disregarding Rules 1 and 2. ( ) Duplicate clause: If the first Pokémon in an area is one the player already owns, or its evolution or pre-evolution, they MAY capture it or skip to one they do not own yet, and then attempt to catch it. ( ) No Legendaries in Play: The Player may capture a Legendary Pokémon, but not use it in the run.

------------------------------------

Now, for the main show:

------------------------------------

Softcore Rules:

( ) First Mon Out: First Death in the Run is ignored.

( ) No Full Wipe: A loss of a whole Team is not a loss. The Player can choose to make a new Team out of stored/benched Pokémon

( ) Friendly Rivalry: Rule 2 is disregarded in Rival Battles.

( ) Shiny Clause: If the player encounters a shiny wild Pokémon, they MAY catch it, disregarding Rule 1. A shiny Pokémon won't count as an encounter for that area.

( ) On Safari: each area of the Safari Zone is considered its own Route/Area, for the effects of Rule 1.

( ) HM Slave: You may ignore Rule 1 to catch Pokémon SOLELY for teaching HMs. Said HM users cannot be used for battling - if they are your last member(s), you must consider the Team whited out

------------------------------------

Hardcore Rules:

( ) No Escape: The player can not flee from wild battles/

( ) Caught Only: The Player cannot use any Gift/Found/Bought/Traded Pokémon, only the ones they capture. Eggs are consider Gifts. The Starter Pokémon, which is a Gift, must be stored/released after your first catch in the run is Level 5 or above.

( ) Monolocke/Monotype: All Pokémon in the team must share one same type, to be decided at the start of the run.

( ) Monocolor: All Pokémon in the team must share a color, to be decided at the start of the run.

( ) Uniquelocke: None of the team's Pokémon may share a type.

( ) Set Battles: The game is on Set Mode, instead of Shift. The Player change Pokémon only after the Foe puts a new Pokémon into play.

( ) No Day Care Center: No use of Day Care Center during Run.

( ) No Child Support: Can't use the Day Care Center to breed Eggs nor have Pokémon that can risk Eggs to appear.

( ) No Held Items: The Player can't have their Pokémon hold items. Pokémon with Pickup are prohibited.

( ) No X Item: The Player can't use the item "X" during the run. Pokéballs, Move Learners and Key Items are Exception.

( ) No Modern Medicine: No healing items for HP, PP, or status other than Berries, Roots, Powders, Herbs, Drinks and Foods. No Potions, Restores, Elixers, Ethers, status heals or variants are allowed.

( ) No Legendaries: The Player cannot capture any Legendary Pokémon, either defeat or flee them.

( ) Level Cap: Player’s Pokémon may only be trained up to the level of the next Gym leader’s Highest Leveled Pokémon. After the last Badge, Level Cap is the Highest Leveled Pokémon in the Elite Four.

( ) Limited Pokémon Centers: Pokémon Centers may only be used a certain number of times per Center, or a certain number of times between each Gym.

( ) Town Keys: The Pokémon Center and Poké Mart of a Town with a Gym can only be used after you defeat that Gym Leader. Towns with no Gym are exempt.

( ) American Healthcare System: Every use of a Pokémon Center demands spending money (Player goes to a Poké Mart, buy items that will cost the set value of healing and then discards bought items).

( ) Limited Poké Mart: Poké Marts may only be used to buy a certain item (Poké Balls, Healing Items, etc).

( ) Apocalocke: The player chooses (or is given) a type of apocalyptic disaster theme. Depending on the disaster chosen, only certain Pokemon types “survive” and may be used. Tsunami (Normal, Flying, Water, Grass, and Dragon-types survive and may be used) Heat wave (Normal, Fire, Rock, Electric, and Ground-types survive and may be used) Ice Age (Normal, Ice, Dark, Fighting, and Steel-types survive and may be used) Nuclear War (Normal, Poison, Bug, Psychic, and Ghost-types survive and may be used) Famine (Normal, Rock, Ground, Steel, and Ghost-types survive and may be used)

------------------------------------

Extra Hardcore Rules:

( ) Giftlocke: Rule 1 is disregarded. The player is not allowed to catch Pokémon, must use only their starter and Pokémon that are obtained without catching.

( ) Routelocke: Rule 1 is disregarded. The player picks a route or area, and can only catch Pokémon that can be found on that route.

( ) No Items in Battle: The Player can't use any items during battles, like Potions or Antidotes, etc. Pokéballs are Exception.

( ) No Items: The Player can't use any items that affect Pokémon during the run, like Potions or Antidotes, etc. even outside battles. Pokéballs, Move Learners and Key Items are Exception.

( ) Notepad Clause: No Pokémon may be kept in storage or Day Care Center. The player may only own six Pokémon at a time.

( ) Notepad Extreme Clause/First 6 Only: The player may only own six Pokémon throughout the entire run. If all pokémon in the Team faint, then it's "game over", even if the Player have any Pokémon still in store.

( ) No Pokémon Centers: Pokémon Centers may not be used during the Gyms part of the Run. After that and before the Elite Four, you can only use the E4's Center.

( ) No Poké Marts: Poké Marts may not be used; the only items available are those found in the overworld or given for free by NPCs.

[whosmaggy]

Life and More

been quite a long amount of time since i have written a blog post. currently i am light headed and weak because i have found out that dua lipa and callum turner are engaged. i am not certain i will survive the night. anywho! today is Boxing Day! i went skating with my dear friend f, and because my brother is not using his car, i drove to the rink and then we went to tims together. im back home. i hate it. i feel so empty and awful. my mom keeps crying but idc i just want her to see that being home makes me want to die. other than that, i have been doing really well these days. been taking care of myself.

went clubbing a week ago. it was great fun i think. felt awful the next day. i think im going clubbing the week i go back. my bus ride here was good. was forced to listen to asap rocky instead of future but the god hour is one of my fave songs so idc. love ketchup.

i love doctor who. kinda disliking eyebrowless doctor. idk i miss my dear 11th doctor. he was so funny. i LOVED him and martha. my fave scene from the show is the swedish beach.

my visions of my death are coming back.

born to die is my fave album in the world. i think its Lanas best work, it isnt the deepest or her best writing, but her vocals are beautiful and it is a very cohesive piece. Lust for life has my favourite songs on it tho, its just lacking the cohesiveness that born to die has.

Went to the slushynoobz lookalike contest. It was freezing cold and i wanted to cry. i thought i would have to cut my feet from how cold they were. i lost my marting photocard so i have nothing to remember that event by. i was there with my friend h, her sister, and her cousin. We went to a textile museum afterwards. and then to a free cookie decorating thing. we had dinner at east tea can. i liked the chicken. we got nanis gelato to finish off the night. it was santas cookies flavour.

i want the Lulu bag with the side pockets.going thru my voicemail rn! crashing out rn because of callum turner.

on Monday me and my friends f and j went to the mall. I drove j from the bus stop. we got tims and snacks from dollarama. the we watched Kraven the Hunter (has said no one ever) at the cinema. it was a 5/10. not as bad as madame web, but very meh. I got my period. it hurt so badly. we 'snuck' into the theater for wicked afterwards, but only watched a few minutes cause j got scared and my stomach was hurting so much. we went to dollarama where i sat on the floor while they found me tylenol. I took 2. they really helped. we took photobooth pics and then i dropped jeslyn off and went home.

i need aaron taylor Johnson. need wingstop and chilis. need draco and hermoine together. taylor from klem family is pmo!!

On Tuesday, me and my friends h and a went to the mall. it was so much fun and i got my gift for white elephant (happening tomorrow) im so excited. i went kinda over budget but i really dont mind. i could get a reeses cup and i would be ok with that. i then drove us to our friend ds work place. she was closing tho so we went to dollarama and got kinder eggs. i drove h home and then a. i packed up my white elephant gift. so excited!! at night me, a, and f watched crime scene kitchen season 2 finale. the final 3 had us shocked and confused.

no one has been playing roblox with me :(

my Sephora cart and brandy cart r so cute i wish a had a large sum of money so i could buy everything.

after skating today, i went to the Chinese market with my mom and grandma for fish. they didnt have pickerel so we got smth else. the dude there was just hitting the fish while they were still living. dont know how humane it is but at least the fish are fresh. it was in jane and finch so i was kinda scared my car was gonna get stolen. honestly i love jane and finch, ik its one of the worst parts of toronto but i spent so much of my childhood there. then we went to shoppers. SO many things were on clearout i got some skincare and an eyeshadow palette. my mom got a bunch of chocolate for family back home ofc.

incredibly excited for tomorrow. i have been doing a crazy amount of driving these days. i have spent probably an hour on the highway this week. love it tho.

ok time for dinner and a show (facetime call with f).

love more than anything,

Maggy 🅾️

[diskmess]

The Breeders - Pod

I’m going to have to be honest about some pieces of myself that are not endearing. This is going to take some time. A long time. I know you can’t wait forever. None of us can. For now, let’s start with two recent occurrences:

I forgot a close friend’s birthday. I have crunched some numbers and determined that there are approximately three hundred and twenty-one adequate excuses I could give you, but they do not interest you now, and they will not interest you tomorrow or in two weeks, and one hundred moons after my last bone becomes indistinguishable from the planet’s crust you will no longer have the faculties to care. I forgot. That’s it.

When I heard of Steve Albini’s sudden passing, I immediately looked up his discography. I pointed at all the albums I knew and failed to take note of the ones I didn’t. Pictured below is one of the albums I pointed at. 

THE DISCOVERY:

I’d been seeing the same vinyl of The Breeders’ debut album at one of my local record stores for three consecutive weeks. I’d appreciate its largeness and jaw-flooring low price for about as many seconds as it cost dollars. Then, I would say something terrible:

“Next time, if it’s still here.”

When I forgot my friend’s birthday, I realized I needed to buy that record. I knew she didn’t have it. I even had a dream about giving it to her: bowing myself in half, head down in deep apology, I presented the record like cartoon butlers present fine cuisine. Surely, it was a prophetic dream. I rushed out there one bleak Monday before work. I got there an hour before they opened. I needed to kill time. I puttered my dying car over to the nearby Wal-Mart, which ended up taking half an hour due to a malfunctioning traffic light. I listened to The Breeders’ Pod while inching forward every thirty seconds or so. 

I escaped Car Jail and looked at bad DVD covers for about twenty minutes. I had my legs carry me back to the parking lot, shuffling my mass underneath the uneven rays of an indecisive sun. It rained. The sun beamed. It rained. The man parked in front of me stared me down as I killed time by filling it with my phone. I tried not to see him.

When I arrived at the record store, the record was gone. 

THE EXPLORATION:

(and that’s hot — )

Most of my days are spent roasting in boxes. I drive dangerously close to half-asleep in a large red oven. My ass plasters itself to the seat. Fans blast barely conditioned air into my twitching eyelids. When I roll down the windows, I can almost stop myself from becoming a sweat factory. When I roll down the windows I make myself vulnerable to 100,000 small imaginary knives, pointing in at me from all the Out There’s commotion. I turn up the radio so I can hear it over the air whooshing. The radio announcer speaks: 

Yesterday, at age sixty-one, we lost Steve Albini. A new Shellac record is set to release in just over a week — he was not planning to die.

I get something down on my chest. 

They play three songs he produced and I’m staring out at the parking lot. Time, which never stops moving, is something we are tasked with filling. Once it is filled, it passes. I have never witnessed something so harrowing as a totally empty hour, thank God, but I know I’ve gotten close. Some days I am dragged along an energetic river full of places and memories. Without even a single thought I am washed over many would-be destinations whose towering landmarks turn to fractions of particles of dust. Other days, I direct its flow:  

“still rolling in the stones run to the log that's rotten and — “

Someday, on a day like any other day, that’ll be it. I will be filling time by making plans to fill some other time with some kind of Goodness. I won’t be thinking about it. And that’ll be it — where I lay, everything I ever gave the gift of motion will be hung upon the world. When it hangs, anyone can choose to bear it. I always choose to bear it on those days where I direct the river’s flow, and I always wake up screaming when the bumps of some beautiful place disturb my lifelong car nap. I catch it blurry in the rearview and start pounding the windows. Oh! Oh God turn around, what was that, what happened, why didn’t you tell me, how could I have been sleeping, where are we going,

And that’s it. Next time, pour water on me ‘til I live again: I promise I won’t forget. Slash my tires if I forget. Make me stay right Here. Make me sponge up every piece of every place I’ve ever passed and make me give it back to the world while the river still drags me along. Let me use its flow to carry these pieces to elsewhere and some other time. Don’t let me be dragged along until That’s It. Don’t let me drop everything there.

[petalsmooth]

I have to admit it's a choice to admit you didn't bother to watch the one plot that is solely about two people who aren't white or where one is white.....

Because the ton does NOT look favorably on active employment. They tolerate certain cultivated "interests" such as Debling's but WORK? Tending bar? Hell no. The people of the ton do not work. Well, Penelope does but she has to do it in secret.

And that is his story so interesting haven't watched one single second of it.

Far as having no money, once again this part of the fandom is obsessed with thinking that money is Anthony's and crediting him with accolades that really amount to being the first one born. Personally if we go by the books and if not inherited to first born male heirs, I'd say Hyacinth should be the one in charge of the estates. She's the one with a gift for finance and deals

They ALL have money of their own. Anthony had nothing to do with it, past Bridgerton's did. Per the books Colin is more rich than barons and viscounts and a few earl's. I'm not sure exactly how much he has on the show but he is NOT destitute. It's one of his main plot lines since season one and the book. Desiring a purpose because he is of inherited privilege and wealth. As for title's, not all title's are created equal. If you are an Earl but have a bankrupted estate a wealthy 3rd son with strong family connection probably is more appealing. Particularly if still young, attractive and kind.

Now I WILL admit I've always had issues with the idea of the Bridgerton's being so powerful as a title of Viscount but as this is the world that has been built in Bridgerton if we're playing by their rules then yeah...I can see him the catch of the season. Depending on who is in the market that year. I think we're given to believe the best two options are the Marquiss the Queen picked for Francesca and Debling. Debling is middle aged and leaving for 3 yrs. This would certainly be ideal for some women but it's hardly going to cause women to flutter like they did for Simon. He has options due to wealth and title but he's no Prince Friedrich either. Marquiss isn't even an option because none of those debutante's are going against the queen's intent. So yeah....I can see Colin as the girl debutant's flock about and their parents aren't likely to object unless obsessed with titles because he checks off all other boxes.

I don't think it's a question of why surrounding Colin, but why more aren't after Debling actually. I don't care for him at all but he marriage mart is not about love for most families. You'd think more mother's would have pushed their daughters that way as Cressida's did. But then he can be rather blunt, which could have chased them away..

[herleaf]

mundane clara headcanons * RE: Baldur's Gate 3 and gaming in general

clara is absolutely a gamer in her spare time (either when she is not with the doctor, there is a school break, she is with the maitland's and angie and artie want her to play with them, or she just needs time to just blow off steam).

while she started off playing fps games, she kept hearing the doctor's chagrin against guns and violence in the back of her mind so she opted into playing cozier games (ie. wylde flowers or stardew valley) and she honestly finds the idea of trying to plan a farm while romancing people to be a fun and strategic activity

absolutely plans her farms on a website that helps map out stardew valley farms. oh, is that a spreadsheet you see pulled up on a tablet near her while she's playing? yes, because she is calculating what she needs to do to have specific money by the end of the first season because pelican town hasn't seen anyone like farmer clorbus on timey-wimey farm. no walkthroughs, this is a cozy game of skill and trial and error. she absolutely slammed her laptop shut when she gave penny a hated gift by mistake and she writes down everything. clorbus is nothing if not a learner, not making a bad mistake twice.

absolutely looks to see if anyone made a mod for stardew valley that resembles a blue phone box that people all over forums and reddits online have argued about being a time machine or some sort of government distraction from what's really going on. because like real life, there is too much to do in one day and if she gets her cave carrots and gems stolen one more time because she missed the end of day by a single second she will back joja mart to spite them.

dates as many of the bachelors and bachelorettes as she could in stardew valley (she absolutely gets the bad confrontation scene once and that is the only time she looks up a how-to online and reloads and finds a rabbit's foot that she now carries with her always.) she is scared to settle down with any one villager because that would force them to stop having their own personality and would stay on the farm and not be helpful (though she does woo and settle down with wesley IMMEDIATELY in wylde flowers because he is obviously not a mere mortal--spoilers--and regrets NOTHING)

absolutely names most of her animals after the doctor and silly nicknames from their past regenerations

DISCOVERS BALDUR'S GATE 3 and immediately hyperfocuses on these silly little 3D characters

can't decide if she wants to BE shadowheart or lae'zel or BE WITH shadowheart and/or lae'zel

gale reminds her of the doctor with his longwinded narratives and stories of his travels and also, like gale, the doctor feels like he would be the type to have a longwinded and complicated multi-step process to bring them back to life if they are killed before meeting a very old man with a long beard who has a pension for smelly cheeses and wine

absolutely begins quoting tav in her travels with the doctor.

"i've got a lot on my mind... and, well, in it." clara there are cybermen around this isn't the time for jokes

will try explaining every character to the doctor

what do you mean he goes by the blade of frontiers? what frontiers has be conquered? if he loses his blade would he just be called of the frontiers? doctor it is not that serious. he trusted a devil to continue on with a deal? doctor he did it to save thousands, your jealousy is showing

has a soft spot in her heart for wyll ravengard (and like danny pink, wyll deserves more content AND DESERVES BETTER)

[aricastmblr]

bts_bighit X 17jun2024

[공지] 지민 솔로 2집 ‘MUSE’ 예약 구매 안내 (+ENG/JPN/CHN) https://weverse.io/bts/notice/20331… #지민 #Jimin #Jimin_MUSE

[Aviso] Información de reserva para el segundo álbum en solitario de Jimin, 'MUSE' (+ENG/JPN/CHN) #지민 #Jimin #Jimin_MUSE

Jimin_MUSE estará en 2 versiones 1 weverse MUSE (BLOOMING ver.) MUSE (SERENADE ver.) MUSE (Weverse Albums ver.)

En las portadas de Jimin_MUSE dos palabra salen mas del resto

(M)US(E) ME (BLOOMING ver.)

M(US)E US (SERENADE ver.)

BTS Weverse

[AVISO] Segundo álbum en solitario de Jimin, reserva “MUSE” 2024.06.17

Hola. Esta es BIGHIT MUSIC.

Nos complace informarles cómo reservar el segundo álbum solista de Jimin, “MUSE”, cuyo lanzamiento está previsto para el viernes 19 de julio.

Puede realizar su pedido por adelantado en minoristas en línea y fuera de línea a partir del martes 18 de junio. A continuación se muestran los minoristas.

Período de reserva Del martes 18 de junio al jueves 18 de julio de 2024 (KST)

Minoristas de pedidos anticipados de “MUSE” Tiendas de música online y offline donde se venden álbumes

(tiendasdondepedir-korearetailersoverseasretailersweverse)

Album Content

[MUSE] - Two versions available MUSE (BLOOMING ver.) MUSE (SERENADE ver.)

- Package Box: 1 type per version / W184 × H184 × T20 (mm) - CD Sleeve: 1 type per version / W180 × H180 (mm) - CD-R: 1 type per version / W120 × H120 (mm) - Photo Book: 1 type per version / W180 × H180 (mm), 88 pages - Card Set: 1 set (7 types) per set / W160 × H160 (mm) - Folding Poster: 1 type per version / W182 × H364 (mm) - Instant Photo: 1 random type out of 3 per version / W108 × H85 (mm) - Coaster: 1 type per version / W110 × H110 (mm) - Sticker Pack: 1 type per version / W180 × H180 (mm) - Photo Card: 1 type per version / W55 × H85 (mm)

[MUSE (Weverse Albums ver.)] - One version available

- Sleeve Box: 1 type / W132 × H92 × T17 (mm) - Booklet: 1 type / W124 × H85 (mm), 40 pages - 3D Instant Photo: 1 random type out of 2 / W108 × H85 (mm) - QR CARD: 1 type / W124 × H85 (mm) - User Guide: 1 type / W124 × H85 (mm) - Photo Card: 1 type / W55 × H85 (mm)

For more detailed information on placing your pre-order for “MUSE,” please contact the respective retailers. We sincerely appreciate your interest and support.

Thank you.

weverseshop X 17jun2024

Pre-order Jimin 2nd Solo [MUSE] on weverseshop GLOBAL and get special gifts!

(https://x.com/weverseshop/status/1802884201563455558)

BTS_jp_official X 17jun2024

#JIMIN 2nd Solo Album 'MUSE'発売決定！本日より予約販売がスタートしました！ 詳しくはこちら→https://bts-official.jp/news/detail.php?nid=f6dr6Qefekc=… #Jimin #Jimin_MUSE

(https://x.com/BTS_jp_official/status/1802883932750491775)

OFFICIAL BTS MUSIC STORE - shop.bts-official.us

(https://shop.bts-official.us/pages/jimin?utm_source=mira&utm_medium=referral)

[jackalgirl]

[ Image description: cut pieces of fake fur cloth with attached fleece, forming both halves of a puppet body with a furry torso and a fleece face, displayed on a wooden table. There is a also a sewn arm, made of the same fur fabric, inside our, ready to be turned, next to a box of plastic safety eyes. End ID. ]

Two years ago I made a Glurp puppet from a kit from Monkey Boys Productions (website here: https://www.monkeyboysproductions.com/), because I had been utterly charmed by Adam Savage making one on his YouTube channel (video here: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=TjvX8GiYA5w - so stinkin’ adorable).

I wanted to make another one, but in the process of moving stuff around, had lost track of the box in which I’d stored all of the pattern pieces, instructions, and hand-painted eyes I had made.

The folks at MBP were really kind and sent me the pattern PDF - I can’t emphasize enough how awesome they are - and I am back on track, using stuff I bought from my most recent visit to the Wall (and its Mart). The materials in the kit from MBP is superior and I’d recommend them over the stuff I had now, but I was looking for a specific “greybeard” color palette that MPB alas did not have.

Anyway, as Adam says, these kits would make excellent gifts for makers - they are on the pricey side if you’re used to buying fast (insert genre here), but I personally think they’re worth every penny because they’re so well put designed, and have such high-quality material.

[chocolatemartbd]

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