#adventure game writing prompt | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

the-golden-comet · 5 months ago

Text

🌸✨OC Questionnaire Tag +bonus Character Voice✨🌺

Thank you for this tag @mysticstarlightduck here, a character voice tag here, more questions from @ominous-feychild here and @fantasy-things-and-such here✨

My questions:

How good is your sleep schedule?

Do you have any siblings? If so, how good is your relationship?

What was the toughest time you had to endure while growing up?

What was the worst day of your life?

What's your worst nightmare?

If a monster asked you your worst nightmare, what would you tell it and why?

"What's your relationship with your family like?"

"Do you have any hobbies? if so, what ones?"

"Do you dream often? what about?"

"What is the one thing you would not wish on your greatest adversary?

And answering the questions With this voice:

"(sighs, done with life) Alright, what did you do now?"

Guess who has the perfect OC to answer these? That’s right: Come on out, Tyr:

From In The Realm Of Giants

Sucks. Getting jostled around in a jar isn’t the most comfortable sleeping space. Go figure, right? (Glares up at Tav)

No. I’m an only child. Mom died when I was five, and Dad’s been overprotective of his only son. Heh….probably should’ve listened in hindsight…

Right after Mom died, we were grieving. Dad grieved a long, long time. He was so paranoid he’d lose me too, that he didn’t let me outside our cottage home for a year. I had to really fight hard to show him that I can be worthy of leadership, that I’m okay, and he doesn’t need to smother me. I passed all the trials and he still sees me as this defenseless child. I’m twenty-two now; I don’t need to have him breathing down my neck.

Losing my mother. How Dad sat me down, tears welled in his eyes, choking out that Mom wasn’t coming back. I felt lost…confused….angry. D-damn it….

(Glares up at the giant from inside the jar) I dunno, Tav. What IS my worst nightmare?

(still glaring, words dripping with venomous sarcasm) OH GEE, I DON’T KNOW, GUSTAV. What WOULD I tell you?

I love my dad and my village. Yeah, he can be a bit overbearing at times, but I can see why. I’m a rebellious little shit, and I caused a lot of trouble for him. And the village…I would die to protect my people. Oh Dad, I’m sorry….I hope everyone’s doing alright….

Besides not getting eaten by a giant? I did my trainings to get all my marks. I guess you can call those hobbies….? I passed my archery test for the Mark of the Snake, led a successful pack hunt for my Mark of the Wolf, and passed the fishing trial for my Mark of the Bear

Usually it’s nightmares about getting eaten alive….being abducted by this dumbass didn’t help that—H-HEY! Don’t jostle the jar!! Fucker, you did that on purpose!! I see you snickering!!

(Glaring up at Gustav so intensely the sun couldn’t burn him to the same degree)

G: …..Huh? What? I wasn’t paying attention. 🤷‍♂️

Whew! I’ll leave these same questions for anyone else who wants to answer, as little or as many as you want in any order! ✨

Tagging (no pressure): @finickyfelix , @illarian-rambling , @saturnine-saturneight , @rivenantiqnerd , @noxxytocin , @pixies-love-envy , @honeybewrites , @drchenquill , @theaistired , @aintgonnatakethis , @willtheweaver , @autism-purgatory , @gioiaalbanoart , @alinacapellabooks , @fortunatetragedy , @theverumproject , @kaylinalexanderbooks , @wyked-ao3 , @addicted2coke-theothercoke , @paeliae-occasionally , @sunglasses-in-the-bentley , @jev-urisk , @thatuselesshuman , @lychhiker-writes +open tag! ✨

65 notes · View notes

radioactivepeasant · 4 months ago

Text

Snippets: Free Day Friday

Trespasser, In Which Jak Gets Another Bad Idea

When he'd hastily redressed and stumbled out of the garrison locker room before anything else could happen, Jak quickly found himself confronted by that Strom guy again.

"An hour? Really?" Strom pursed his lips disapprovingly. "You think we have some magic supply of water to spare?"

"Lay off, we weren't washing for an hour -- much as I'd love to," Daxter argued, "The big guy fell asleep!"

"In the shower? Isn't that dangerous?"

Jak shrugged. "How would I know?"

Strom decided after a moment that this fell under the category of "none of my business". He sighed and waved for Jak to follow him.

"The king says we're to put you up in the barracks for now." He eyed Jak's face, somewhat startled by how much younger he looked under the dirt. "How old are you?"

Jak shrugged. "Midway through seventeen-ish. I think. My "guardian" wasn't exactly a reliable source."

More things to file under "none of my business"

"Oh...kay..." Strom did his best to move past one or two odd questions surfacing in his mind. "Well that narrows down which dorm you're in, at least."

"How so?"

They stepped back out into the late afternoon heat, onto the main road through the Gate District. The burning sun barely touched Jak, deflected by his wet clothes as if he were wearing his own air conditioning. He decided to pretend it had been intentional. Just in case someone asked why his clothes were all wet.

They were led towards the end of a row of houses built into the city wall, leading to an impressibly high flight of stairs into some kind of coliseum. Strom did his best to explain as he led them up the stairs, but he wasn't usually the guy they called for rookie orientation for a reason.

"It's um. So- okay look. The Arena sublevels are divided into three floors: the hospital, the armory, and the barracks. Barracks are split between militia, citizen candidates, and teenage Squads."

He didn't explain Squads.

"You're going to end up in that last one -- probably Dorm 4, that's where they put orphans or unregistered foundlings."

"Orphans?!" Daxter chirped indignantly. Then he paused. "I mean. I guess it's accurate, but you didn't have to say it!"

They didn't end up in Dorm 4.

The Resident Advisor took one look at the slightly dusty, slightly soggy, boy and ottsel and assigned them to an empty bunk in the second hall, Dorm 2. Jak was handed a canteen and a folded set of sheets before being unceremoniously ushered down the hall and into a sparse dorm room holding two bunk beds. For the moment, it was empty.

"Lights are out at 9 bells, no exceptions unless you got a case of the screaming meemies," the RA said gruffly. He pointed at a bottom bunk without sheets -- Jak's, apparently.

"You're responsible for keeping that bunk at least clean enough to pass weekly room checks. Check the schedule on the wall if you want to know when mess hall is open. If you miss that, you can hit the markets, but you're on your own for paying for it."

Jak eyed the bunk uncomfortably. He was responsible for maintaining this bed? He probably wasn't even going to be here that long! He cringed when the RA pushed a twelve by six metal box across the floor with a terrible scratching sound.

"That's your footlocker. If you want a lock, get it yourself. You kids keep losin' em and now we're out." The RA snorted. "But most of the squad in your room is on home rotation this week, so you only have to worry about maybe Sam stealing your stuff. He won't, by the way. Too busy training."

He turned to go, then turned back quickly. "Oh. Gotta confiscate your gun mods, so don't lose your marbles when you get your gun back plain."

"The rot you do!" Jak protested, "I earned those!"

"Don't care." The RA shrugged. "None of your dormmates have and I don't want 'em getting ideas about "borrowing" em."

With a stern warning not to start any fights, and to not miss allotted mealtimes if he didn't want to go hungry, the RA keft Jak alone with Daxter. They stood in the center of the room, blinking incredulously.

"Well..." Jak said after several seconds, "It's not a cell."

"Or an alley," Daxter agreed.

He hopped down and examined the mattress. Nothing fancy, but it was miles better than they were used to.

"Here, gimme the fitted sheet."

"What's a fitted sheet?"

"The one with the stretchy corners." Daxter pointed. "That's the one that goes on the bottom. Wraps around so it don't get pulled off if you roll around a lot."

"...oh. Weird."

Jak handed the thing to Daxter and watched in fascination as his friend set about attaching one corner at a time. It looked difficult.

Before he could offer help, his talk-box activated. That was a bit of a surprise. They'd been traveling for two days already and nobody had made a peep. Daxter had thought they'd have noticed the first time he turned off the location tracker!

"Jak! Jak, where are you?!"

Samos. Jak's stomach churned.

"Don't know," he answered flippantly. "I think we just got put in an orphanage."

"Don't be ridiculous! Get out of whatever nonsense you two knuckleheads have walked into and get back to Main Town! Something is going on, and I need time to investigate without those blasted Deathbots shooting at me!"

"Life's hard."

"What did you just say?"

Jak scoffed, feeling a little of the bubbling anger of dark eco in his core.

"You can't handle a little gunfire? You didn't have an issue making a couple kids walk into it daily. You'll figure it out."

"How can you say something so horrible to me?! I raised you to be a hero, Jak! You sound like that mercenary!"

Jak snorted."Well good. Sig's the only adult in that city I still trust."

Samos sputtered for several seconds in helpless, bewildered anger. Then he gathered himself.

"Get over yourself, Jak! Lives are at stake! I don't care what you're playing at, you turn around and get back here before something worse happens!"

Jak rolled his eyes. The sage sounded like Ashelin. He tossed Daxter the top sheet and studied the foot locker, wondering if he should use it.

"Nah, can't."

"What do you mean "can't?"

Jak shrugged as if Samos could see him. As if Daxter hadn't placed a piece of tape over the lens when he got tired of the spying.

"Oracle says I'm not done out here. Wherever "here" is. Lay off, wouldja? The Precursors sent me out here!"

He listened to Samos's stunned silence a moment before dryly asking, "Did you think they only spoke to Onin, or-?"

"But-" the old sage stammered, "But why would the Precursors send you from us when our need was greatest?"

"Probably because yours isn't the only city in the world? There are other people out there, Haven can get over itself," Jak flung the sage's words right back at him.

"What makes you think there's anything beyond the walls other than ruined wastes?"

"Those eco shipments for Praxis were coming from somewhere," Jak reasoned. Then his voice darkened to match his mood.

"There's no law that says I can't investigate. Sandover may have turned into Haven, but that doesn't mean I'm chained to it. You people already tried that, remember?"

"Jak!"

"I think the Precursors want me to find out who else survived," Jak said, though he wasn't sure that was it at all.

"I'll let you know if I find any sages."

"But Jak-!"

"Have to go, Samos. That hall monitor guy didn't say comm calls weren't allowed in the dorms but I need this thing, so I'm not taking chances."

He ended the call before Samos could make more than an outraged cough. When he looked down, Daxter was watching him with a funny expression.

"What?" he asked, a bit defensively.

"Nothin," Daxter said, unconvincingly. Then he gave a bittersweet grin. "Just never heard you stand up to Loghead like that before."

Jak looked away. "Should've been fighting him from day one. Like you. You knew he was bad news from the start, didn't you?"

Daxter rubbed his arm ruefully. "I um. I don't got a lot of memories of my folks. I was pretty little when the shark got em. But I remember my old man saying "Never trust a man who won't apologize to a kid", and then Samos came through dragging you. An'...an' you cried that whole first day, kept pointing to the sky and making a circle with your arms. And Samos ignored you."

Jak swallowed hard. "I don't remember that," he said softly. "Or much of Sandover at all now."

He sat down on the floor next to Daxter. The thanks he'd given Samos just weeks ago sat sour in his stomach. The real person he should've thanked had been right there beside him and he'd overlooked him just like Samos always did.

"Daxter?" he said gravely, "Thank you. For everything. All of it. I wouldn't be here without you."

Daxter leaned against his shoulder. "Well duh," he joked, trying to lighten a somber moment, "Heroes don't leave their sidekicks with weirdos! It goes against the bro code!"

Then he sobered.

"For the record, I don't blame ya for not knowing he had his hooks in ya. He um. I mean, you were real little, y'know? I think you maybe stuck with him at first because he was the only familiar face, and he used that against ya."

Jak laughed bitterly. "I wonder if I'd have had the guts to say all that if he was actually here?"

Daxter recognized the beginning of a spiral and elbowed him hard in the ribs.

"Well he ain't! And we're not gonna will that into existence with what-ifs!"

He scurried up onto the bunk and spread out in the middle of the mattress.

"Ahhhh! Hey, are you gonna know which morph gun is ours when we get the key to that gun locker?"

Jak pushed him to one side and, after a moment's debate, unlaced his boots.

"The stock on mine looks striped because of all the tally marks on it. The others are completely blank."

"Oh! Didn't see that!"

Reluctantly, Jak took off his goggles and gauntlets and dropped them into the foot locker. At least if it didn't have a lock, he could get them back out at a moment's notice. His knife and amulet he kept on him.

The Call hadn't subsided. He still felt it, and he still didn't know what it meant. So for now, that seemed to mean staying in this hostel/barrack/orphanage combination with more Wastelanders than he'd ever known existed. At least they were Wastelanders and not soldiers. He would've slept on the streets before letting them put him in a dorm with soldiers.

The wall schedule said that the cafeteria didn't open until 6 bells after noon. That left roughly an hour before they could find out if they were allowed to take anything from it.

For a time, Jak occupied himself by polishing his channeling ring with his damp scarf. Daxter tried and failed to braid Jak's hair, but the condition it was in was just too poor.

"Pal," Daxter said reluctantly, "I don't think these mats are comin' out."

Jak sighed in resignation. He'd wanted to avoid this -- the only haircut he could remember had been a traumatic buzzcut because a KG accidentally spread bugs through the cell block -- and got himself a spot in the cell two doors down from Jak when the bugs spread to Errol. (Who was absolutely hideous with a buzz cut, and was in utter anguish about his "beautiful hair". Couldn't have happened to a nicer person. It had been the absolute highlight of Jak's entire year.)

Jak took his knife, sheath and all, from the back of his belt and held it out to Daxter.

"Do what you gotta do," he groaned, "Just don't cut it all off."

The roommate who wasn't on "home rotation", whatever that was, came back midway through the haircut. In his state of exhaustion, he didn't actually see Daxter.

"Your...hair is falling off," he mumbled in confusion.

"It's on purpose," Jak said.

"Oh."

Sam leaned against the door to pry off his boots, then blinked.

"Wait, what?"

"He's getting a haircut, doofus!" Daxter sniped.

"Ohhhhkay, the kangarat is talking." Sam dropped his boot and stared with very wide eyes. "Cooooolll coolcoolcool everything's cool."

"Ottsel, not rat," Jak corrected. "Daxter is sensitive about that."

"...uh-huh..."

Sam swung a gear bag up over the top of the top bunk bed post. With little effort, he swung himself up the ladder after it. Apparently he shared the bunk Jak had been assigned.

"Are you new? I don't remember you," he yawned.

"First day here," Jak admitted, "still dunno what's going on."

Silence for a few seconds. Then, "So...does that mean you came from Outside?"

"I guess? Don't know how I got here from Haven, but I'm not complaining."

"Oh."

Sudden Sam was leaning over the rail of the bunk, spiky blonde hair falling in his face.

"No kidding? Me too! I mean, I ran away from Kras, but. Stowed away on a cargo ship and got caught at the docks."

Kras. The name was familiar. Something to do with racing, but Jak hadn't been paying attention.

"So you planning on the Arena too?" asked Sam.

"I still don't know what the Arena is," Jak said pointedly. "Is it for races?"

"See, that's what I thought at first!" Sam exclaimed, "But apparently the only races they do in there are Leapers. It's kinda a community place? Big meetings, festivals, executions, games, theater, combat trials-"

"Festivals?" Jak was mildly intrigued.

"Executions?!" Daxter was not.

"Yeah man. Though to be fair, there's so many ways to die normally outside the walls that it takes a lot to get the death sentence around here. You have to do something really bad for Lord Damas to kill you himself. Like "engaged in the slave trade" or "abused a kid" or "betrayed the city to enemies" kind of bad. Stuff that dishonors a warrior's name for life. Otherwise he gives you a chance for pardon in combat trials."

Jak squinted up at their temporary roommate. "How...does that work, exactly?"

Sam rolled back onto his mattress with a noncommittal sound.

"Depends on whatcha did I think. Smaller offenses you gotta fight a metalhead. Bigger offenses get you more than one metalhead. If it's bad but not death sentence bad, you fight other Wastelanders who already know how you fight."

"Remind me not to get on these guys' bad sides," Daxter stage-whispered.

"So then why would I enter the Arena if I didn't do anything wrong?" Jak pushed.

"Oh yeah, that's the other thing. Civvy candidates who want to be permanent residents gotta prove they can survive the three main dangers of the Wasteland: enemy shooters, treacherous terrain, and lava. So the king makes us do combat trials simulating those conditions until he's satisfied that we won't like. Immediately die if he lets us outside."

Jak considered this for a moment.

"Fair enough," he decided.

"No??? It's not??" Daxter finished slicing off the last mat and gave Jak an appalled look. "Precisely none of that is normal!"

Jak swept the clumps of hair onto the floor and leaned back to let Daxter continue braiding what was left.

"So...you prove you can handle yourself, and they let you stay?"

Sam reappeared over the rail. "Well, you also gotta prove you're willing to work. They don't like lazy people out here, everybody does at least one thing that keeps Spargus operational, even if it's just sweeping the sand out of the stables -- which is about all they let me do on account of last time-"

"What happened last time?" Daxter asked as he finished tying off three fishbone-braids.

They could almost hear the wince.

"I...kind of...failed so hard at wall patching that I dropped an entire bucket of wet clay on a district representative. He got a concussion. It was bad."

There was a chagrined silence, but then Sam rallied. "So yeah, I'm not allowed near construction equipment anymore and I can't switch chores yet. All kids get maximum one job a day, but you get to pick what you do once you either turn nineteen, or get through the third trial."

Wheels were beginning to turn in Jak’s mind. He'd never given much thought to the future, but what if he just. Didn't go back to Haven? What if the crisis ended and he didn't go back? Might be nice to have a place like this on standby.

"So that what the grouch-in-chief said you're training for?" Daxter asked.

"Yep! Already got my first amulet and gun mod!" Sam said cheerfully. "First full trial hurts like a son-of-a-cob, but at least Scatter rounds are non-lethal."

"No they're not?" Jak sputtered.

"Yes they are?" Sam wrinkled his nose. "Scatterguns are what they give kids and civvy candidates because it's not live ammo?"

"No," Jak argued, "You can definitely kill with Scatter rounds. It just takes like six shots."

Sam stared at him with wide eyes.

"What the rot, dude," he whispered.

"What?!"

"You're telling me you've killed people with a practice gun?!"

"Well- well Haven doesn't know they're practice guns!" Jak defended.

"Okay..." Sam grimaced. "Well. Don't do that in your first trial. Only way anyone is supposed to be able to die is if they try to prioritize hunting an opponent over avoiding lava."

"None of this is making me want to try this Arena thing!" Daxter complained.

"What's the second trial?" Jak ignored Daxter's complaints.

Sam looked a little unsure suddenly. "Yellow eco trial. That's um. That's going to be my first combat to the death. And not many candidates signed up for this month's trial so it's just me and three others against a Marauder crew they captured."

"Marauders?"

"Colonists from the mainland," Sam explained. "They're wannabe Wastelanders and I'm pretty sure they're all insane because they run around out there with no shirts, ever. They also run most of the slave trade between Haven and their colony."

Jak's eyes darkened.

"They're slavers?"

"Yep." Sam shuddered. "I've seen some of the survivors brought back when the Wastelanders raid their camps or when Marauder defectors start a riot. They've been through it. And like half the Arena Guard are survivors of the Marauders, so the ring isn't where you wanna end up if you're a blood merchant."

"It's not the guards they should worry about," Jak muttered darkly. Before Sam could ask what he meant, he looked up. "So if you get through three trials, then what?"

"Full rights as a citizen, same as if you were born here."

There was a glint in Jak’s eyes that only Daxter could see, and it Concerned him.

"Ja-aak, nooo-" Daxter groaned, but he knew it was useless.

"I'll go in with you, when they do the trial," Jak offered. "World could always use one less slaver."

"For real?" Sam raised his brows. "You've only been here a day, dude. You need to do some training before you're ready for that."

"Haven's an active warzone," Jak retorted, "and I got forced onto the frontlines for a year. I'll be fine."

"I mean. If you're sure," Sam relented, "I wouldn't mind the company."

"I would," Daxter grumbled under his breath. "I have some objections!"

So, it turned out, did Damas.

#Trespasser Jak au #Trespasser au #fic prompts #writing prompts #free day Friday #long post #jak and daxter #dadmas #king damas #Jak and Daxter and the adventures of dorm life #samos hagai #every time i worry that I'm character bashing Samos i re-watch the games and nope he's in-character #yeah Jak is NOT supposed to be anywhere near that Arena because he hasn't even been cleared by a medic yet #Damas had a very amusing reaction when he saw that gremlin in the ring #he is heard to constantly mutter over the next few months 'I'm either gonna kill him or take him as an apprentice'#he keeps warning Jak that if he pulls too many death-defying stunts in public he's going to end up with a legal guardian as a consequence #jak thought he was bluffing. he was not bluffing.

42 notes · View notes

fanovember · 2 months ago

Text

How are your inktobers/drawtober/drawing challenge going? Remember if you want to keep drawing, even though fanovember is about fanfiction, you are more than welcome to participate in our fan based challenge with whatever kind of art you make! We're still working on the list so stay tuned

9 notes · View notes

mechazushi · 19 days ago

Text

youtube

Long story short on the video, it's just a breakdown about mummies in history as it correlates to the history of its media as well. It's still a good and informative break down (Definitely check it out and support the channel), but as it got to the point of breaking down the tropes seen in movies about mummies and how many of them were seen in previous novelizations, I got to thinking about a story idea of my own.

It kinda revolves around the whole distinction between mummies that are powerful sorcerers that get the benefit of looking like a human and less powerful mummies that are forced to shamble around and be stuck in their bandages. It also dips into the "The mummy is looking to brink back their dead lover who just so happens to be reincarnated." trope as well as "bandage mummies only exist as servants/violent body guards".

So it takes place in the height of England's Egypt Craze where tomb "Unboxing" was still a thing and some British f*cks as well as their ✨gorgeous female assistant✨start poking around in a tomb. It's a lesser known tomb and everyone makes it clear that this was dedicated to some high ranking guard that made a noble sacrifice or something so they decided to make the guy's funeral a little more special. The British guys write it off and go see if there's a bigger tomb to plunder investigate (I feel like I should also mention one of these guys is supposed to be the female's betrothed love interest that immediately gets ntr'ed once the actual green flag walks, or should I say shambles, into the picture.)

Female Assistant sticks around to explore the first chamber more deeply and shenanigans happen. She reads some passages on the wall that has foreshadowing bits into it, maybe translates a scroll or two by candle light because she can't sleep due to the ✨visions✨ or some shit, and ends up accidentally resurrecting the noble guard from earlier. It's initially the lower tier type of mummy, the type that's somewhat mindless and still wrapped in bandages. Shit goes down, maybe it tries to kill the other tomb raiders explorers but it doesn't pan out (personally, I see it as a loony-toons type moment with the Mummy trying to kill them, the Assistant foiling every attempt, and the British guys none-the-wiser) Eventually it's discovered that the mummy seems to recognize the Assistant as someone he once knew and now only obeys her commands.

The Assistant uses that to her advantage and manages to drag it/him back to their lodgings. I have nothing specific for this part, other than that the next third and over of the movie (I see this as a movie. Or a webcomic if you wanna torture yourself.) is just Tarzan and Jane antics where they fall in love with each other. It's also happening alongside a side plot where the mummy is slowly gaining memories/intelligence/the ability to speak as it/he slowly sheds his bandages in the process. (I don't picture him losing all of the bandages. I still like a little bit of monster left to f*ck with. And yes, it's handsome.) Basically he slowly starts reverting back to the noble guard he once was as he remembers why he sacrificed himself in the first place and why the Female Assistant looks so familiar to him.

The last third cuts back to the British guys and them getting to meet the monkey's paw consequence of their hubris. They do the same thing that the Assistant did, only they end up resurrecting an ancient and powerful sorcerer that was sealed away for humanity's greater good. Maybe they strike a deal with the guy, maybe they run like the little b*tches that they are, who knows. Anyway, the mummy guard's spider sense pings and he realizes who ended up getting reawakened. Come to find out, the sorcerer also thinks the Female Assistant looks pretty familiar and does some wibbly-wobbly magic to confirm that, yes, she is some reincarnation of a long dead princess(/competing sorcerer maybe? It would be a nice double twist if you're into that sh*t)

Big fight ensues, the good guys win, and the Female assistant rides off into the sunset on an Excelsior Model 19 with the Mummy boyfriend.

The End.

9 notes · View notes

howtobeapersonwithfibro · 3 months ago

Text

Story Writing PART THREE

Our friendly bog witch, Hagatha, has recently woken from a years-long sleep due to a potion mistake. Her hut is a dank, dusty mess with several small animals having taken the opportunity to share her residence, and the outside is covered in overgrown plants. But she doesn't have time to clean yet, because she's starving.

Time to harvest some ingredients. The top three will be the ones she finds enough of to combine into a stew. (She also gathers some berries to eat on the side).

#poll #story poll #writing #writing poll #my post #writing prompts #choose your own adventure #writing game

8 notes · View notes

imelht · 1 year ago

Text

Metadede Week. Day Two. First Meeting.

——————————————————————————

“… … …”

Silence. Save for the wind which blew. Save for the king’s thoughts, which weighed heavy on his mind.

“… … …”

It was an abnormally cloudy day in Dreamland. Shadows fell over and about buildings in unconventional fashions. No one seemed to be outside at the moment, despite it still being early in the day… no one at all, but one.

The penguin king stepped outside, on a rather generously sized balcony which stemmed from the side of his castle. He peered over the mountains which so surrounded the mighty establishment, alone with only his thoughts to nag him. The golden circlet which held his crown together lacked its usual shine, much to the doings of the thick, dark-colored clouds above.

He stood silently. Not a word to himself, not an utterance to the scene about him.

Nothing.

This was King Dedede, the courageous, the fierce-some. The mighty penguin king of Dreamland.

He stood tall, tugging at the band that bound his stomach lightly. Feathers a rich azure blue in hue, his eyes were of a corresponding color, while his feet and beak a dandelion yellow in contrast. By looks alone the man was of a royal caliber. (Or perhaps that was only due to his routine.) Though, in contrast to his royal, tip-top nature, one might come to recognize the undeniably prominent southern tint to his voice, and his rather… gluttonous and boisterous aptitude, though, despite this, he was still very much a king at heart. Coincidentally, the king came to be dressed in a sumptuous red robe with a lofty, cloud-like accentry, his very insignia he sported on both the back of his robe, and on his mallet, which he’d always on hand.

Over the years, he would come to be a kind, and empathetic king, and he would grow to love each and every single one of his loyal subjects, those being the Waddle Dees. He’d countless of the orange, horizontally asymmetrical, mouth-less creatures. Each one he’d grown to love, and for any one of them, he’d sacrifice his very well being…

Though at this moment, that was not of principle concern. The clouds were dull in color, sharply contradicting the multitudinous, and spirited colors of Dreamland. The King knew something was up, and it was not just those clouds in the sky…

He knew what he had to do, and he had to do it now, or never.

… … …

Late into the night, the King had snuck out with deft footsteps, and managed out of the grandiose castle. The city of Dreamland was now at utter rest, the lights of homes put out, not a soul in sight. All were asleep, all but one… that one being King Dedede, and he’d taken a visit to the legendary Fountain of Dreams.

The fountain ran with its usual waters, however, the fountain’s activity seemed off to the King. King Dedede had taken many a trip to the fountain, especially when his mind plagued him. He was no new face to possession, namely by the forces of Dark Matter. The King sat on the lip of the fountain, his sights on the Star Rod as it sat upright in the center of the monument.

He averted his sights and peered into the waters as he normally did, allowing his thoughts to rush his mind like a flood, though this time the waters, opposite of stagnant, rippled. They betrayed a scary sight, a wizard with sharp spectacles and a whirling body. He’d sharp fingers, and a sinister demeanor. The wizard smiled with his teeth, each sharp but perfectly locked together, and he pulled his cape about his body to conceal it. Dedede, who would rather have not set his sights on the wizard, attempted to pull away, but instead, was seized in the wizard’s powerful mental hold, and physically brought forcibly to the water’s surface.

When his hands did not feel the usually shallow bottom of the fountain… he freaked out.

He felt his heart as if a lump in his throat, and in his stunned state he couldn’t bring himself to speak. He flailed his arms, seeking out of the water as he was near pulled in entirely. The wizard himself did not verbalize anything, rather, he stared… he stared deep into what was the King’s soul, and the King could almost feel himself again being pulled into the rippling waters of the now dark fountain.

He shouted, or… he thought he did. He felt himself begin to sweat, or was that just the water that had splashed into his face during the ordeal…? His breathing hastened as he corrected his pose, managing his arms out of the water after he’d been pulled physically towards it. He struggled against the mental snare of the Wizard with shallow breaths, as the taunting grin of the wizard seemed to remind him of how weak he was... The wizard beckoned Dedede to him, and the King could feel himself losing again what control he’d over himself.

He loathed losing his mind to some outside entity… to Dark Matter. He hated the torment it brought. To lose the will but not the conscious… it was utterly petrifying for the King. He strived to fight against it, but the external forces always managed to trump his will…

He wanted to cry out again in the midst of it all, but he remained determined. He grit his teeth, though he felt his mind once again facing a slip. He tensed up with the rest of his remaining strength, until he was pulled away from the fountain by a pair of hands at his sides, his pupils were wild, his feathers, bristled, his crown lopsided from his earlier tumble. He turned promptly, wide-eyed to the one who’d managed him away from the wizard’s unrelenting hold on him…

His eyes widened a tad further when he laid his sights on the one who had practically saved him. He was met with a short, masked, orb-shaped puffball. His skin was dark in coloration. He’d amber eyes and a steel mask, which covered the entirety of his face, save for a visor which permitted his eyes to see through it. He had pauldrons and sported a flowing red cape which he held across his body in one hand.

He looked like a little knight. The King tilted his head, now calming down from the previous events that had transpired.

“W-Who… are you?” The King stammered, his voice shaking a slight bit, but his nerves soon faded.

The mysterious man spoke up, in a much deeper tone Dedede would’ve thought.

“My name…? Well, if I may, I insist on keeping it in the down low.“ He responded, hesitantly.

“Do you… have a name?”

The swordsman was silent.

“I’ll take that as a no, for now.” *He paused, eyeing the swordsman before him. “It’s no matter. I’m sure ya know who I am at least.” He assumed, the arrogance laced in his tone and radiating from his newly stricken pose.

After a moment of silence he was met with a quiet, “I am unaware…” from the bystander.

The King’s jaw nearly dropped at this. He turned back to him, a more honest face, this time.

“You seriously don’t know…?”

“Why would I?” The swordsman replied, not without a genuine lack of knowledge.

“Well… I jus’ assumed you would… is all…” The King mumbled, though he perked himself back up. “I’m the King of these lands, Dedede is my name.”

“A pleasure to meet you… King Dedede.” The swordsman accompanied this acknowledgment with a bow, his red cape catching in the breeze.

“It’s nice tah meet you as well, mister swordsman.”

“You may just refer to me as sir, for now.”

The King laughed lightly. “Right right.” Then he’d a thought. “Ah! You uh… you saved me back there…”

“I did, in fact.” The swordsman affirmed.

“Well… what brought you ‘ere?” Dedede questioned, tilting his head.

“I heard your scream.” The swordsman stated, as a matter-of-factly.

“Well, yeah… but…” He tried to think of something else to ask the mysterious swordsman for the sake of learning more about him, even if it wasn’t much, but found nothing, so he offered his thanks instead.

“Well, I thank ya… truly…” He replied, cutting of his prior train of thought.

“Don’t mention it.” Was all the small swordsman said in reply before simply walking away.

That was, until Dedede called him, with a slightly begging tone.

“Wait!” Dedede implored, as he honestly didn’t want to see the mysterious man go. He’d found himself oddly captivated by him. He was much different from the rest of Dreamland’s usually bubbly citizens. Something struck him as… different. Many a thing, actually.

The pleading tone of Dedede’s voice struck something within the swordsman. He halted, turning around to face Dedede.

“What is it?” He replied, his deep vocals monotonous.

“Maybe we could… talk some more?” Dedede took a slightly shaky breath. “Ya know… it wouldn’t hurt to have someone to speak with.” He pointed out, feeling a bit of his honor nag him at the admission, though he saw no harm in the idea. After all, he’d just been shaken by what he’d seen in the fountain, and… this man before him struck him as a rather serious fellow, so he’d wager his chances with him.

A moment of silence passed before the man replied, only saying one word.

“Sure.”

“Great!” Dedede’s face lit up a bit with the affirmative answer. He scooted over on the lip of the fountain (as if by habit) and offered the man to sit down with him.

The swordsman clutched his red cape after only a moment of hesitation, and approached the lip of the fountain. Climbing (not without very slight struggle) to sit on it, he sat a fair distance away, but still in reasonable speaking distance. He folded the cape neatly in his lap, and turned towards the much larger man.

“Ready.” He announced. Though Dedede thought there was no need. The man had intriguing habits, but he didn’t implore further regarding them.

“Well…” Dedede started, “Are ya new here, by chance? To Dreamland?”

“No. I have been living around here for a bit of time already. We just have not happened to meet, until now.”

“Oh? So… you just so happened to decide to come here? To the Fountain of Dreams?”

“Well, yes…” The swordsman admitted.

“So… you came ‘ere, not because of me, I know that… so… that means it musta’ been by your own whim, huh?” Dedede rose a brow, though this gesture was not in accusation.

“Well, yes… I actually visit this Fountain on a reoccurring basis.”

“Then… why ‘aven’t I seen ya?”

“It must have simply been chance.” The swordsman stated, his tone still bland of any change whatsoever.

“Hm… I guess so.” Dedede conceded, agreeing with the very slight chance that which the swordsman said was right. It seemed most probable.

“…and you? Why are you here?” The swordsman questioned, his tone alone did not betray his curiosity, rather… the slight tilt of his head did.

Dedede sat back a bit, hands still holding tightly the rim of the fountain.

“I… I came here to act somethin’ out. A plan.”

“Hm?” The swordsman hummed in slight confusion, clearly not getting what very vague “plan” Dedede could have possibly been alluding to.

“Well… you see…” Dedede hesitated.

“I was going to take the Star Rod, and break it.”

“And… why would you do that?” The deep voice rang out again, monotone, yet… subtly questioning.

“Ya see… earlier I noticed somethin’ was up with the clouds in the sky. They were awfully dark. It was highly unconventional of Dreamland’s usual.”

The swordsman stayed quiet, not betraying whether or not he too noticed this phenomenon.

Though in the midst of this silence Dedede pressed on with his plan.

“So I came ‘ere to check up on the Fountain, and… it turns out it’s been corrupted.”

“Corrupted, you say?” This captivates the swordsman, despite his utterly dead tone.

“Yes. Or so I believe… I did see an entity I don’t usually lurkin’ in the waters…” The King drew a deep breath, recalling the figure.

“That was before you saved me.” He added, looking at the swordsman, who was clutching his cape, staring right back at him with his dull yellow eyes from beneath the mask. Dedede could almost… feel his interest in the whole thing. This prompted him to ask what was on his mind.

“So… have ya any sort of knowledge on what’s goin’ on?”

“Maybe I do.” The swordsman paused, before speaking again.

“Tell me about the “figure” you saw in the waters tonight. It seemed to have quite the effect on you, King Dedede.” He spoke as if he was speculating something.

“Well, it was some wizard with… sharp glasses and a starry cloak. He’d a taunting smile and wicked fingers…” He answered, turning to the swordsman.

“Have any idea?”

The swordsman was silent, before speaking.

“That which you saw in the fountain… it was undeniably Nightmare. He is a powerful wizard with dark magic at his disposal, not to mention mind manipulation and corruptive tendencies.”

This was what Dedede was looking for.

“Oh really? So ya know about that guy?”

“Well… yes…” The swordsman fessed, fidgeting with his cape a bit.

Dedede, utterly oblivious to the swordsman’s slight restlessness regarding the topic, dwelt on the matter at hand. “Hm… that’s better than nothin’ I guess! I appreciate the information.” Dedede replied, jumping up slightly, pressing on with his idea.

“So, as I was sayin’, I was going to take the Star Rod and divide it amongst some trusted members so that we might be granted a chance against this… “Nightmare” guy.” He continued, looking back at the swordsman every so often, to keep his interest.

“Mhm.” The swordsman nodded, humming in acknowledgement of his plan.

In analytic thought, he nodded, seeming content with the King’s plan.

“What you have devised proves not unsound.” The swordsman admitted, a hint of respect in the way he worded his admission.

“Why, thank you.” Dedede seemed proud himself, and he stood up, hand on hip, his robe trailing gently behind his massive frame.

“Now… just to getting to the Star Rod…” He took a pensive look at the clouded waters, and bit his beak a bit in slight nervousness.

“Is everything… alright?” The deep voice inquired suddenly. It caught Dedede off guard.

“Oh! Uhm… yes… sorry…”

“No need to apologize.”

“Ah! Right…” Dedede chuckled nervously.

The swordsman watched as Dedede turned to step through the waters, his foot managed to touch the shallow flooring of the fountain… and he found it odd how his hands couldn’t locate it earlier during his struggle. Nonetheless, he managed to the Star Rod, and claimed it off the center of the Fountain, though, as soon as he did the waters gained a more violent tendency, and they rippled, crashing about him, drenching his torso’s feathers and his robe. He yelped at the feeling of his movements increasing in difficultly as the waters tried to keep him, and he trudged through with strain. The King felt as if the water was gripping at his feet, attempting to pull him into the dark abyss that seemed to overtake the fountain. Slipping, his nerves overtook him, but a gloved hand caught his, and yanked him from the waters.

Again, Dedede gathered his nerves on hands and knees, turning his head to see that the swordsman had saved him once again.

“Thanks…”

“No need to mention it.” The swordsman dismissed. “I am simply doing what is fitting of a knight.”

Dedede’s eyes seemed to betray his loss of concentration on outwardly matters… he entered a bout of thought, pondering the knight before him…

“Knight”. He’d not any of those yet… he wondered what it would be like to have a knight in his kingdom. He’d loyal subjects and soldiers sure, but a knight? A real knight? No… not yet, at least… not yet…

“Hello?” The deep voice yet again caught the King off guard, causing him to snap out of his bout of thought.

“Ah. Er… sorry again.”

“No need.” The swordsman dismissed the apology again, with a light tone.

“You are alright though, yes?” He wanted to make sure.

“Yes.” Dedede confirmed. “…Thanks to you.” He added.

The swordsman’s cape caught the wind slightly, and danced in it.

“No need to mention it.” He replied, again, not letting emotion seep into his vocals.

“Yeah yeah…” Dedede droned lightly, smiling. Then he had an idea.

“Hey… uh… you know what…? Maybe…” Dedede paused, holding the now fragmented Star Rod in one hand, then looking up at the swordsman.

“Do you want to be a keeper of a piece?”

“Me?” The swordsman’s tone betrayed very slight… surprise.

“Yes you. Do you want to hold one of the pieces for me?”

The swordsman dwelt on his decision for a second. Instead of further questioning him, he took up the role.

“It would be an honor.” The swordsman clearly meant every word, this task, to him, was now regarded with utmost seriousness.

“Then the piece is yours, swordsman. Keep it safe from Nightmare, and let it never be reconnected with the shards of its kin.”

Dedede paused, ensuring the weight of the moment.

“Do you promise to keep it safe for me?” Dedede asked, his eyes a bit wide with seriousness.

“I promise.” The swordsman said in reply, clutching the glowing shard in his hand.

“Good. Then… farewell to you, swordsman.”

“… … …”

“May we meet again.” King Dedede dismissed, and the two went their separate ways.

END.

#decided to write for this prompt #i put the ‘keep reading’ to shorten the length of the post #this evidently takes place in kirby’s adventure. im not too too familiar with the game. but i hope ive done right by it’s plot #the unnamed ‘swordsman’ here is evidently meta knight #i just played on the fact he’d no name at the time. though in this case he simply refuses to say for the sake of both himself and dedede #dedede has a small ‘panic attack’. just to give a warning. its nothing too much though #methinks i should write more often. i enjoy writing a good piece here and there. i am just too nervous to ever share what ive written #anyways. enjoy #mtddweek2023 #metadede #IMELHT’s fanfictions

41 notes · View notes

nesonkin · 1 year ago

Text

I think Modern Amy should be allowed to be open about her love for Sonic. I don't know why some people think that toning her down to the point where she's suppressing her feelings is a sign of maturity.

#sth #amy rose #probably a hot take idk #watching sonic prime it hit me like a truck when i realized that prime!Amy doesn't appear to show any kind of romantic feelings for Sonic #whatsoever #in fact you probably wouldn't know she had those feelings if sonic prime was your first exposure to sonic #you'd think sonic is crushing on amy and not the other way around #it's strange to think about in retrospect #anyway i just believe there is a way to write amy 'hopeless romantic' rose as her open and passionate self without making her obnoxious #adventure games did it #this post was prompted by one of the takeover answers when she had to correct herself saying “like” instead of “love”#this bit was weird to me idk

45 notes · View notes

lizzieraindrops · 1 year ago

Note

For the ikoris prompts - ikora helping hive!eris clean / take care of her chitin? :0

tumblr wont let me post for some reason so here have an ao3 link:

rituals (2.2k words)

what if, in juxtaposition with the sword logic, the Hive were actually really big on social grooming just like irl hive insects? and the rituals were intricate

Eris was not interested in transforming back to remove the muck. The black Hive blood was slightly caustic. Her human skin already had enough scars. Well. Patience and tedium it was, then. Her old friends. That was how Ikora found her an hour later, still scraping dried blood out of each groove of each plate one by one with a single claw.

Read on AO3

send me eris/ikora prompts!

18 notes · View notes

shywhumpauthor · 2 years ago

Text

#I’m going to be checking this in like two hours to start writing whatever’s in the lead so #vote now or forever hold your peace #all of these will be whumpy #because you know me #whump #whumpblr #whump community #whump writing #choose your own adventure #cyoa whump #whump cyoa #cyoa game #cyoa poll #whumpee #whumper #whump prompt #whump prompts

37 notes · View notes

noodyl-blasstal · 2 years ago

Note

okay perhaps: build a bear receipt, Mortified, perhaps to literal death, annnnnnd Barry :3

Did this get slightly out of hand? Who could say (me, it did.)

From this prompt list.

Barry knew what Build a Bear was, well, conceptually. You went in, you spent an obscene amount of money, you came out with a creature - possibly one wearing sunglasses and a tutu. It hadn’t been a thing when Barry was a kid, not one his Mum could afford anyway. But now he was stood in one, overwhelmed, confused, and being pressured to make decisions quickly.

The type was easy, Beary Bluejeans had to be a bear. Tick tick, done. Or, it should have been done, but there were 18 different kinds of bear to choose from and no clear parameters for selection. Every single one of them was a sad deflated puddle of fluff, and sure, Barry could relate, but he also knew there had to be a right answer. Gifts were a test. Probably. Well, Barry thought they were a test, and he had never met a test he couldn’t worry extensively about. Lup probably wouldn’t mind, this was just a small gesture, a little joke between friends. She called him Bear, he was going to get her a bear with his signature jeans. Casual, fun, no one’s harbouring any massive crushes and may or may not be in love with anyone else. Lup saw him as a friend and that was fine. All good! What was not all good, was the crowd of children building up around him. He was finding this hard enough without kids bashing into his legs, all sharp elbows and whirling rucksack attacks.

After intense deliberation he decided on a soft medium-brown teddy the shelf proclaimed was ‘vintage.’ Barry could relate, he was vintage too. The modern bears had intensely large eyes or fur that didn’t feel as nice under his fingers - this guy though, this little soft puddle could be him, could be Lup’s, he could be Lup’s… Another kid slammed their elbow into his knee and Barry staggered. How much did he actually need to be here? He could leave, he could put Beary down and go, Lup would never know, no one would know, he didn’t make any promises about doing this. ‘Man Incapable of Purchasing Bear’ would only be a headline in his brain. It might be nice to have a fun new failure to torture himself about at 2am when he couldn’t sleep? Something funky fresh to add to the flagellation rotation. Even as he entertained the thought he knew he wouldn’t do it. The gesture was good, the joke was good, it would make Lup laugh, he loved to make Lup laugh, it was worth some bruising.

Barry finally escaped from the scrum round the toy pelts? Skins? It all sounded bad. He needed to stop thinking about it in taxidermy terms, but this sure was a skin without the meat. Build a Bear was taxidermy for babies and no one could tell him any different. At least he knew the next step, they probably weren’t working with armature, so it’d be stuffing. He had definitely walked past some kind of woolly slushy machine on the way in so he tried to retrace his steps. Did the shop actually need to be this big and this full of people? Maybe they should do adult-only hours where everyone could just pick their bears in silence and form orderly queues and not run into anyone else actually.

“Excuse me!” Someone tapped lightly on his shoulder.

“Sorry, was I supposed to pay over there? I didn’t realise, I thought I did it at the end.” He couldn’t call Lup to bail him out if he got arrested. He couldn’t ruin the surprise… also she’d want pictures, his mug shot would be on t-shirts, mugs, pyjama sets, pillows, he’d never ever live it down. “I’ll pay now here, let me just grab...” Barry nearly dropped Beary as he fumbled for his wallet, but he couldn’t afford to get arrested right now. The stakes were high.

“Oh, you’re not in any trouble Sir! You forgot to get a sound and you can’t forget your new friend’s heart!” She smiled so big that Barry didn’t dare ask what most of the words meant.

“Ah, uh, okay… uh, where do I…?”

“I’ll show you, come with me! I’m Lydia.” Barry tried not to acknowledge the look on her face which clearly telegraphed This Idiot Can’t Bear.

“It’s fine, you can just, uh, point me in the right direction, I just need the stuffing and I should, ah, be fine.” Barry was going to expire on the spot and emerge a terrifying spectre, no one could grab him and make him keep doing bears if he was incorporeal. Lup probably wouldn’t mind, she’d probably think it was rad to be friends with a death spectre… in fact, Barry was fairly sure he remembered her saying something about it being cool to bang a ghost… huh… nope! He couldn’t follow that thought anywhere right now, because apparently he had to think about what sound Beary was going to make and also there was a heart and fuck fuck fuck. Lydia had definitely been explaining. Barry nodded enthusiastically, not wanting her to realise he’d been ignoring her, this wasn’t her fault and she had a job to do.

“Great, it’s 20 seconds. If you head to the bathroom it’ll be a bit quieter.” She shoved a contraption and Barry and nodded encouragingly. “Just speak clearly into it, and remember, 20 seconds. Once you’re done, come back and we’ll start the ceremony.”

“Ceremony? I… wh…” She cut Barry off with a gentle shove towards the bathrooms. There probably wasn’t any point in arguing, he’d already agreed so apparently he was recording a message… a message for Lup. That was fine. He could do that.

Barry couldn’t do that.

Barry was seven practice recordings deep.

Barry was never going to leave the bathroom, he lived here now. If he didn’t record the message then it couldn’t be bad, that was just science. Flawless hypothesis.

He’d already tried something casual. “Hey Lup, it’s me, Beary. I think you’re Beary wonderful.” Bad. Awful. Terrible. D-, she’s never speaking to him again. Funny: “Bear with me, voice message loading…” also bad. Heartfelt… he couldn’t even think about what he’d said, he’d been rambling long after the 20 seconds were done. The bear noises had been fun, roaring in a toilet was a strange experience and Barry usually loved strange experiences, but this was absolutely not it. “Will you Beary me?” was great on the pun front, terrible on the we’re-just-friends-I’m-definitely-not-in-love-with-you side of things. Ghost noises almost won the day until he considered her accidentally rolling on it in the night and waking up spooked. The time he dropped the recorder and swore a lot while trying to pick it up was probably the best of the bunch.

Eventually he settled on Arrane Ben-Vlieaun, or, “the magic cow song” as Lup insisted. He found a corner next to the sink which seemed to have relatively reasonable acoustics and rumbled the first bit out “Cur dty vainney, cur dty vainney, choud's mish ta goaill arrane. Lhig yn curn nish goll harrish, lesh dty vainney my vooaveen.” There. That was probably fine. Lup sometimes got him to sing it when she was struggling to sleep, it made sense to pre-load it in Beary. He definitely didn’t have time for any more attempts, he was surprised Lydia hadn’t already burst through the wall like a terrifyingly peppy terminator.

She zeroed in on him when he emerged. “There you are! I thought you’d gotten lost, are you ready?”

Barry hesitated, maybe he could try one more time… he pulled his hand back as Lydia reached out for the device. No, eight was enough, it had to be enough. The cow song was fine. He nodded and handed over the recording majigger. Lydia smiled even wider, Barry debated counting her teeth, she definitely had too many.

“Fantastic!” Lydia said, then set off towards the fluff box. Barry followed, there was no way off the ride at this point, he may as well keep his arms and legs inside the car. “Okay, so this is very important, we’re going to perform the heart ceremony.”

Barry is fairly sure this is going to be different to the type of heart ceremonies in his books at home… probably? There definitely weren’t any ceremonial knives on display. “Okay?”

“You’re going to develop your special bond with your new friend…?” Lydia paused and looked at Barry expectantly.

“Beary.”

“Beary. Huh…”

“He’s called Beary Bluejeans.” Barry added, thinking that might make her stop doing the squinchy face at him. It didn’t.

“That’s… super!” She said after a long pause. “So, we’re going to make sure you and Beary build a special bond and you always look after him and love him forever and ever.”

“It’s okay, we can just do the stuffing, that’s fine, I uh, I don’t need to, you know, do the uh, the bonding thing.”

Lydia gave him a hard look. “We don’t send the bears home with just anyone, we need to know you’re going to look after Beary Bluejeans.”

Barry wasn’t sure he’d felt fear like this before… did he actually like Lup enough to go through with this? Was he scared enough of Lydia to do whatever she said? “What do I have to do?” He’d die for Lup, multiple times if necessary, and he was fairly sure Lydia would put him in the ground without a second thought - still smiling - if she felt he wouldn’t be a competent guardian for Beary.

Lydia solemnly handed him a small plastic heart. “This is Beary Bluejeans’ heart. We’re going to establish your bond now. Are you ready?”

Barry waited for further instruction.

“Are. You. Ready?” He wasn’t sure a polite tone had ever felt so much like knives.

“Yeah, uh, yes Lydia.”

Her smile was back. “Fantastic, take Beary’s heart and rub it on your toes so he’s totally awesome.”

“I’m… what?”

“Rub it on your toes so he’s totally awesome.” Lydia repeated, then mimed the action. Barry looked longingly towards the exit, it wasn’t that far, he could probably just drop Beary’s floppy corpse and run. “Sir, on your toes, so he’s toe-tally awesome.”

Barry bent over and ignored the rice crispies and milk noises his back made in protest. He swiped the plastic across his shoe.

“Now rub it on your cheeks so Beary gives warm smiles.” Barry didn’t think it was particularly hygienic to rub something on his toes and then his face, but who was he to fly in the face of the experts? He rubbed the heart quickly on his cheek.

“Rub it on your hip so he’s hip and cool.”

Barry was at least 90% Lydia was messing with him by this point. Barry wasn’t hip, he wasn’t cool, and he certainly wasn’t funky fresh. If Taako was here Barry could probably scoop up some of his vibes, but Barry certainly wasn’t a reliable coolness supply. Beary was going to get Barry’s clicky hip, lose all the street cred he’d earned in his short life, and say goodbye to his fuzzy charisma.

“Nearly there! Rub it on your arms so Beary always gives good hugs.”

Barry promised himself he was never going to return to Build a Bear, this was hell, Lydia was the devil. He swished the heart near his arm.

“Like you mean it, Sir. You want him to give good hugs don’t you?” Lydia sing songed, loudly enough for the line behind him to hear.

Barry quickly rubbed the heart more forcefully across both arms.

“Now spin around to make him magical!” Barry was not going to spin around, he was going to think heavy thoughts and let himself sink into the floor. He wouldn’t have to exist in this room or any room ever again, he wouldn’t have to spin around with a stupid anatomically inaccurate heart, or deal with the line of children who were probably staring and laughing at him right now. Floor Barry, Flarry, he’d never have let this happen. “Don’t you want Beary to be magical, Barry?” No. He wanted Beary to be finished so he could leave. But Lup, Lup would probably want Beary to be magical… fine. Fine! Barry was going to spin around. He shuffled in a begrudging circle.

“And lastly, make a big wish!”

Barry wished this was over. That he was at home. That he hadn’t decided to get Lup this stupid bear. He wished he was brave enough to tell her he’d been in love with her for the last 8 years and probably would be for the rest of his life. But none of these wishes seemed like something he should wrap up in Beary. Barry considered for a moment, then wished, and wished hard that Lup would like him. Beary… obviously. The wish would know who he meant, it didn’t matter how he phrased it.

“So lastly, I need you to promise to always care for Beary, and seal the magic promise with a kiss.” Lydia was dead behind the eyes, Barry could tell, no one could be this chipper, not for the 6 years her badge said she’d worked there.

“Okay.” Said Barry. There was an excruciating pause. Lydia looked at him expectantly. Was he supposed to say more? Were there proper words? “I promise to, uh, to, take care of you Beary?”

“Are you asking, or telling?” Lydia said sweetly.

“I promise to always take care of you Beary.” Please let this be over.

“Now kiss his heart.”

This definitely wasn’t hygienic, not with all the rubbing and spinning. Barry decided to keep those concerns to himself. Lydia finally seemed satisfied, and instructed him on the foot pedal that would help him add the fluff to Beary.

They stuffed, fluffed, stopped for hug tests, and decided on the appropriate firmness. Barry could feel the heat in his face, but at least no one he knew was here to see it. Taako would never let him life this down. But it was fine, he was a 50 year old guy cuddle testing a bear which occasionally sang about milk at him in his own gravelly hum when he pressed the voice chip by accident and that was fine. Twenty entire seconds of excruciating singing while he waited for it to shut up and Lydia pretended not to be laughing about it. He was totally fine.

Lydia deftly stitched up the hole in Beary and handed him back. “Now I’m going to shoo you off to the grooming station so you can get Beary all fluffed and puffed and ready for snuggles. Have a wonderful day now!” Her relief was palpable.

Barry fled as soon as Lydia dismissed him, maybe he could skip the grooming, he didn’t really need to do that, surely? Beary seemed fine.

“Over here Sir! I’m Edward and I’m here to help you get your new friend looking their very best.”

Barry couldn’t outrun him, Edward was at least 30 years younger than him and looked like he’d be able to tackle Barry before he could make it three steps. “Okay.” His voice cracked. Maybe this was hell? Barry couldn’t leave, there would always be another step and another smiling assistant to help him.

Edward pointed at a large fake bath which swarmed with children. “You can give your new friend a bath and then we’ll dry them off and get them combed nicely for you.”

“Jeans!” Barry refused, he absolutely refused to pretend to bathe Beary surrounded by children who were no doubt just as sharp of elbow as the first group.

“I’m… I’m sorry Sir?” Edward looked nonplussed, but Barry refused to get suckered into this one. Next they’d tell him he could get custom smells.

“I.. uh, thanks Edward, but Beary’s good, he doesn’t need a bath, see! Super soft. He just needs some jeans please, then I’d like to check out. Thank you very much for your help.” There, he was doing it, Barry was a guy who could say what he wanted.

“Oh, sure, no problem, the clothes are over here!” Edward grinned easily and indicated a towering wall of options. “Have a great day, you can register Beary there when you’re done.” He pointed at a large bank of computer terminals. Of course, of course there were more steps.

“Then I can leave?”

Edward frowned. “I’m sorry.”

“I can pay and go, when I’ve done the computers bit?”

“Yeah?” Edward raised an eyebrow at Barry as if he was being insane, then remembered he wasn’t allowed to do that. “I mean, yes Sir, of course, the tills are just on the other side of the computer terminals.”

Barry grabbed the first denim he saw, shoved Beary into them at speed, tapped Captain Professor Dr. Beary Bluejeans esq.’s details into the computer terminals and finally, finally, smelled freedom. Beary was safely ensconced in his ‘house’ (which Barry was apparently allowed to colour in), Barry was handed a birth certificate, rinsed for more money than he anticipated, and finally allowed to leave. He blinked groggily as he emerged into the daylight. Barry was never ever ever returning to that cursed shop. Even for Lup. He could have sworn he’d lost years of his life wandering around that maze and trying to complete all the stupid tasks.

_________

Barry left the box on the doorstep, rang the bell, and fled. This was how friends delivered gifts, it was fine, in fact, Lup didn’t even have to know it was from him. His phone rang, Lup’s ringtone dragged his hand to his pocket before he’d even thought about it.

“Hey Barold, what’s in the goth box? I love the paint job, flame decal door is going right onto my Lup’s Dreamhouse wishlist.”

“I… uh.” Said Barry, intelligently.

“I can see you fleeing down the street, wanna turn round, Bluejeans? Not that the view is bad from here. Wink.”

Barry wheezed down the phone, turned, turned back, and debated throwing himself into a bush. If she couldn’t see him she couldn’t tease him, right?

“Okay… You continue rotating, my guy. Lup’s cracking into goth house of wonder to see what you got me.”

“I… I, well, you see… It’s… er.”

“Barold… Barry…” Lup gasped for breath. “Barry, why… why is this bear wearing hot pants?”

“Yes.” Said Barry. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe if he explained? She didn’t understand how much he needed to escape by the trouser selection stage.

“The bear is wearing denim hotpants.”

“They’re blue jeans.”

“My guy, they are blue jorts.”

“He’s called Beary.”

“Beary Bluejorts?” Lup cackled so hard he had to move the phone away from his ear. He moved it back just in time to hear “I love him.”

#Barry's Lup ringtone is Short Skirt Long Jacket by CAKE because she likes the bit about cutting through red tape #Fire regs? No thanks!#TAZ Fic #Prompt game #The Adventure Zone #Blupjeans #Barry Bluejeans #Lup #Lup Tacco #Did the customer service crew start life as the wonder twins? No. But they were terrible and then I what iffed #Noodyl Writes

26 notes · View notes