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pi-cat000 · 4 years ago

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BNHA: Kakashi dimension hops crossover (5)

Summary: Kakashi gets dumbed into the My Hero Academia universe through random plot devise.

Characters: Kakashi Hatake

Fandoms: My Hero Academia and Naruto

WARNINGS: Mentions of violence/injury

START / RREV / NEXT

Ms Iroi always tries to engage him in conversation whenever she comes in, asking questions and chatting to herself in a fruitless attempt at helping him recover his 'lost' memories. Most of the time, Kakashi is indifferent to her presence and always has a magazine handy as an excuse not to talk.

Today, Iroi is in a particularly good mood, humming to herself, greeting him with an energetic, “How are you doing today!”

Kakashi grunts a noncommittal response which doesn’t do much to discourage the woman’s good mood as she runs through a check-up routine.

“You should try watching U.A’s sports festival tomorrow. I hear it’s going to be particularly spectacular this year,” she says as she pulls the blinds on Kakashi's window, blocking out the distant city lights.

U.A? he recognises the name. Kakashi glances up over the pages of HERO!! MONTHLY BREAKDOWN. It is the third time he has read this issue.

“You know, since you like reading those hero magazines, I figured you would be interested in watching the ‘next generation of heroes’ debut,” she continues, noting his attention, “U.A always puts on a good show.”

Kakashi frowns. The problem with his amnesia cover story is that he is still trying to figure out what he can get away with not remembering. So far the doctor’s seem content to chalk up the disappearance of his long term memories to a ‘quirk’ accident but were always more concerned when he failed to recall basic factual information. Something to do with different parts of the brain being responsible for different types of information.

“Watch how?” He settles on asking. U.A. was supposed to be a hero-training academy so whatever this ‘sports festival’ was was worth checking out.

“Oh,” Iori pauses to think, “I, ah, think channel 2 with be covering it?” she hesitates, “You know what. I’ll look it up and let you know later. Sorry, I can’t carry my phone around with me while on shift.”

“Thank you.” He smiles and makes a show of returning to his magazine to dissuade further conversation.

Later the same evening, just before the end of the evening shift, Iori pokes her head into his room again. She is out of uniform, long hair untired, waving to catch his attention.

“The coverage is on channel 2 and starts at 11am,” She holds up her portable communication devise like it means something. It probably did mean something. The frequency by which people checked them suggested it had a function beyond basic communication. He has held off attempting to steal one because, unlike pens, people would notice and care if one went missing.

“Have fun watching! Oh… also, I forgot to ask…”

Kakashi raises a brow.

“I have a bunch of old gossip magazines. Mum used to read them all the time and there are a few hero-themed ones in the mix. I can bring them in if you want more stuff to read.”

“If you want.” Iori must have noticed him re-reading the magazines.

"I'll bring them on Friday!"

Iori had been unsubtly hinting that Kakashi might have had a history in heroics. It definitely wasn’t because reading information on a page just made sense when compared to the barrage of conflicting reports the television gave him. A few weeks with only the television as his information source has him writing off most of its information as useless or propaganda.

…

...

“HEELLLOOOOO, LISTENERS!”

Kakashi stares dully as the video footage, which had been giving him a bird’s eye view of a positively massive stadium, changes to a sweeping shot of what must be thousands of people crammed into seats. It almost makes him claustrophobic just watching it.

“WELLCOME TO OUR ANNUAL U.A. SPORTS FESTIVAL! THE HIGH SCHOOL ADOLESCENT RODEO YOU ALL LOVE TO WATCH. CAN A GET A ‘OH YEAH!’”

As if of one mind, thousands of people leap to their feet screaming. The camera angle changes again to show a grinning blond-haired man, seated at a desk and pointing enthusiastically at the camera. All these shot changes are going to give him a headache. Kakashi is already having reservations watching this and its only10 minutes.

“Thank you! You’re an AMAZING audience!”

It almost reminds him of the final Chunin Exam stages -if the Chunin exams had had three times the audience - which always involved some sort of combat display. There hadn’t been any public Chunin Exams recently for reasons such as a large portion of Konoha being flattened by Pein.

“FIRST UP ARE OUR FIRST-YEAR EVENTS! And what an exciting round of events they are, perfect for debuting our newest students! Give us a shout so they can feel your support!”

Another loud shot as thousands of people yelled in unison.

“Come on! Louder than that! These are your future Heroes I’m talking about! SHOW THEM SOME LOVE!”

More yelling. Kakashi turns down the volume.

“But! Wait just a minute!! We're not only here for our Hero students! As I'm sure you all know, behind every great hero is a hardworking support team! GIVE IT UP FOR our Support, Management and General departments who are also competing for a chance to face off in the finals!”

Kakashi sighs. He is getting the sense that this might be more for entertainment than utility purposes, conforming to the general trend of Hero-related stuff being flashy. Different from the Chunin exam which had deadly consequences if not taken seriously.

“Hey. Hey! HERE THEY COME NOW! OUR STUDENTS PARTICIPATING IN THE FIRST YEAR STAGE!”

What follows is an overly dramatized race where the only thing of interest to him are the obstacle types, including robots, - mobile mechanical weapons of some sort that produced a lot of environmental damage but were taken down fairly easily- and explosive devices that acted a lot like explosive tags. Then there was a team elimination round and one-on-one tournament fights after which the coverage shifts to the second year and third year stages.

He uncovers the sharingun only to discover that, while its memorisation function worked fine, the part that translated the movements into muscle memory felt off. Perhaps, the replication and copying component of the eye didn’t work when viewing a technique through a screen rather than in person. Interesting. As there wasn't anything particularly impressive technique-wise during the events he counts the new information as a net gain.

The student-heroes – he is not sure if there is an official term for a hero in training – barely match Konoha’s academy standard in their taijutsu and physical conditioning though there was marked improvement between first, second and third-year groups. These students were what...between 14-18 years old...and yet most had the skill level of an academy students and fresh genuin with only a few notable exceptions?

Sure, there were - honestly ridiculous- versatile and powerful bloodline abilities being thrown around like nothing, but ninjutsu techniques only took a shinobi so far without a strong base to work from. He shakes his head, reminding himself that these kids - because what else did you call combatants who hadn’t graduated yet- weren’t shinobi in training and would be policing civilians and engaging ‘Villains’ of similar skill levels. It was obvious that the students favoured non-lethal takedown methods and put little to no thought into stealth and misdirection during fights.

Different words…different priorities.

As Kakashi has yet to see any evidence that the country, Japan, was at war with another he thinks the skill level displayed might be serviceable. There were also no major conflicts between the country’s large cities over farmland, water sources and the like. Obviously, this place had sorted out the resource and distribution issues usually encountered when supporting such large populations. Or, who knows, maybe everything on the television was a carefully constructed lie to lull people into complacency.

Now he has seen an example of hero-students, he better understands the low combat ability demonstrated by the police. It also gives incite into the blurry recordings of Hero/Villain confrontations which played on repeat across the various ‘news’ reports. They all tended to hover around Chunin or maybe Special Jounin in terms of skill. He knows generalisations are dangerous so, until he saw the combat in person, he would exercise his usual level of caution. There were bound to be outliers after all-the impressive brute strength of the number one hero comes to mind- and there was no telling what advantages a bloodline ability might provide. Absently, he makes testing the susceptibly of people without chakra to genjustu as something to figure out sooner rather than later.

He sighs. This is why he hated the television. Whenever he watched it, he came away increasingly confused, with more questions than he had answers. Not to mention anything useful being constantly interrupted with information detailing one of the many products that he could apparently buy here. It irritated him to no end.

...

The chakra collecting seal is ready before the week is out. Mostly ready...it was ready enough.

Kakashi returns to the roof. Sitting cross-legged, back against the stairway entrance, he works his way through the 100 or so pens, cracking them open and tapping out ink into a large bowl, stolen -like the pens -from hospital staff.

The mix of black, blue and red ink is gluggy, forcing him to add water to thin the solution out. Once satisfied he pulls out an appropriated scalpel – one of a growing collection hidden alongside his pens because having a stash of weapons is never a bad thing- pricking his middle finger, watching the blood drip and curdle with the mixture. The blood would be absorbed into the ink, allowing it to conduct chakra. He mixes everything with pair of disposable chopsticks, taking care not to spill it on the ground or stain his hands.

The whole process reminds him of other insistences where he had improvised fuinjutsu ink in the field. The last time being during his final Anbu missions where he had created a body storage scroll from scratch after unexpectedly losing a squad mate on what should have been a simple intel retrieval mission. Not a particularly fond memory but a memory he was stuck with.

Since his demotion to Jonin-sensei there had been fewer of those sorts of missions. Not that being a Jonin-sensei had been easy – considering all his students had gone off to find other teachers he didn't even think he had been particularly good at it - bringing with it its own special brand of stress, culminating in a stint as Hokage, a fourth war and him stuck here. He is pretty sure his experiences aren't universal. Team 7 was just cursed to fail in increasingly spectacular ways.

He lets out a heavy sigh, leaving his airways open to a sudden gust of cold wind which carries the scent of cleaning chemicals from the hospital and oil from the road straight up his nose. He exhales forcefully and mentally bumps finding a face mask up his list of priorities. It would be good for hiding his features and dulling the artificial smells of a city housing over a million people.

The sound of wind whistling around the building almost blocks out the echo of feet in the stairway, approaching his location. In one smooth motion, Kakashi stands pushing the remaining broken pen back into the vent, nudging the cover back in place with his foot. Carefully he holds the bowl of ink in his injured arm and a scalpel in the other. Kakashi steps back against the entrance so the outward opening door would hide him from whoever came out.

A crying kid comes barrelling through the door.

Well, not completely crying, more like sniffing loudly, eyes all shiny. He even recognises the kid from the U.A combat demonstration, as improbable as that was. It is the first year hero student with the speed-enhancing ability which, seeing him up close, probably had something to do with the strange growths coming out of his caff muscles. High speed movement put enormous strain on the body so he could reasonably conclude that the kid was physically resilient to acceleration stress and similar forces. Not resilient to stabbing though....

Kakashi forces himself to relax, his scalpel lowering ever so slightly. Lucky he had heard the kid coming or he might have accidentally hurt him. A few weeks of reduced sleep coupled with a lot of time to ruminate on past missions and failures has put him on edge. This was exactly why he disliked taking extended breaks.

Maybe, Kakashi should start relocking the stairway if he was planning to make regular trips up here because the young male probably hadn’t had the roof in mind as a destination. Kakashi knows from experience that, unless you were injured or a member of staff, there were few good reasons to wander around a hospital at odd hours.

With the hero-student distracted sniffling into his arm, Kakashi slips around the door and back down the stairs. He hadn’t planned on applying the seal on the roof anyway. Too exposed to the elements and the concrete was too rough for the delicate line work.

He continues mixing while he walks, having mentally mapped the hospital well enough to know which hallways to use and which to avoid. There is a surgeon with some sort of heat-sensing vision who works late most nights that he must be careful around and a nurse with a weak proximity based empathic ability working in paediatrics. Both obstacles force him to take a meandering detour on his way to the ground floor and the larger shower blocks which housed cubicles the size of small rooms. Enough smooth floorspace for the expanded seal design and easy to clean afterwards. He supposes he is lucky, some complicated fuinjutsu required several meters worth of floor space. The containment on Saskue’s cursed seal comes to mind and he is glad that this seal is infinity smaller.

Not one to waste time knowing that nurses and patients regularly used the space even this late in the evening, he immediately slips into a cubicle upon arrival. Flopping onto the floor he pulls out the paintbrush he had had scour the hospital for and eventually to steal from the children’s ward. Carefully, he begins the slow process of application.

…

The final seal design is circular, about the size of his splayed hand, positioned on his uninjured shoulder just above where his Anbu seal had previously sat. The sleepwear provided by the hospital had sleeves that extend just past his bicep. It hid the design, for the most part. The final visible seal is a bit bigger than he had predicted or planned for. If this were a proper infiltration mission, where blowing his cover came at the price of death, he would be in big trouble. If this were a proper mission, he would have waited before applying this. An unnecessary risk. He itches the back of his head, turning from where he is craning his neck to see the seal, gathering up his supplies to be thrown in one of the hospital’s many rubbish bins. Kakashi lets out a breath. Maybe, this whole ‘trapped in a different world’ thing is affecting him more than he was willing to admit and making him sloppy.

He pulls down the sleeve so it mostly hides the design. Not like the doctors here would recognise the significance of fuinjutsu, he reminds himself, even if their questions would be annoying to deflect.

He pumps chakra into the seal and a jolt akin to lightning runs down his limb. It activates without issue and Kakashi grimaces as his chakra is slowly drained and collected. The rate of the drain is pathetically slow. Three years too slow. But, between this and his sharingan - which was always active and draining chakra- he can’t risk making it quicker. Despite the relatively low-level threats around him, Kakashi is, first and foremost, a Jonin in an unknown territory who is already taking risks simply making and applying the seal. He can’t afford to impair himself with poor chakra management on top of everything else.

Kakashi pops his head out of the cubical, scanning the shower block. Nothing of note has changed and he darts out, intent on returning to his room. He is tired and it would be a long, tiresome week as his body adjusted to the strain as well.

#bnha #bnha fanfic #naruto #CrossOver #dimension travel AU #hatake kakashi #kakashi headcanons #cultural shock #Iida makes a breif cameo #fanfiction #my hero academia #plot continues to move at a glacial pace

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rocketink · 4 years ago

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LOST AND FOUND

In which you lose your stuff all the time but your first-floor neighbour somehow always has it for you. Or, in a soulmate world, your soulmate finds everything you loses and reverse.

pairing: minghao x gender neutral reader

genre: fluff, crack + neighbor & soulmate! Au

wc: 2.2k+

warnings: none I think (this type of soulamte thingy is kinda crazy tho). Btw this is my first au so I’m sorry fpr any mistakes!! + English is not my first language so apologies :)

notes: I migh turn this into a series since I’ve thought about some details here and there as I wrote this au?? What do you think??

The situation inside your apartment has turned unbearable, and you know should have moved with Joshua when you had the chance. He wasn't the closest of your friends, but you're sure it would have been more comfortable with him rather than third-wheeling your roommates.

Now, you don't hate Mingyu and your best friend, you just think they are disgustingly cute. You feel very happy since you've seen them pining after each other for a while now (all the furtive glances they sent to each other when they thought nobody was looking was like being inside a rom-com movie and it was hilarious at first. It eventually became too much to handle). You've never seen two more oblivious people inside a room, it was exasperating. Things began to turn serious when they discovered they were each other's soulmates and they've been seriously dating ever since.

It's great, really, but why do you have to see each of their displays of affection? Or, should we say, why doesn't the time to find your soulmate finally get to you?

Because you know, deep down inside you, that the problem is not that they have a soulmate. The problem is that you don't find it.

"Good morning, love." Mingyu greets your friend with his deep morning voice, and gives them a kiss on their temple. "Good morning, Y/n." He gives you a tiny hug and you growl.

"It's too early for being cute don't you think?" You ask joking-not-so-joking.

"Feeling grumpy at eight in the morning? Woah, breaking your own record." You laugh at what your friend says and they laugh too. You don't mind being like this, just why does it have to get so awkward sometimes?

"Guys another disgrace has happened." You announce solemnly. "I have lost my jacket"

"Again?" Mingyu judges.

"But didn't you wash it yesterday? It must be hanged with the rest of the clothes."

"I checked when I woke up because it's cold and it wasn't there."

"It was pretty windy last night, maybe it fell?" Your friend suggests and they grin. "Maybe Minghao will bring it back to you later?"

Ah, here we have the other reason why you want to move to a lost town somewhere in Australia: Xu Minghao, your first-floor neighbor, the one that has an apartment to envy because of his small, well-decorated courtyard. You don't envy that, though, because your clothesline is right on top of his courtyard, and sometimes he has to bring you all the clothing items that fall into his yard. You don't know how all that ends up there, you've tried everything: from securing your clothes with more pins to tying it to the clothesline. But none of that ever works, and he always goes all up to the third floor -where you live- to give it back to you with a smile and a 'see you soon'. How does he know it's your clothes? You made sure to tell him the first time this happened.

Just like your friend predicted, that afternoon Xu Minghao knocked at your door.

"Hello." He greets with a friendly smile and your heart melts.

He's too adorable to handle.

"Hi, Minghao. Don't bother I think I know why you're here." You joke at your own clumsiness and he laughs with you too.

"You must have been cold without it." He seems worried and you shake your head.

"Don't worry, two layers of blankets made up for it."

He puts his hands into his pockets and smiles shyly and you feel your heart bursting off. When he leaves, you notice your jacket smells like him.

Ah, how you wished Minghao was your soulmate.

Things get more complicated when the finals approach. You can barely stand even after drinking your daily coffee and you spend day after day coming and going from home to the library. You are so focused and stressed that you barely pay attention to anything else, and you've lost from pens to your entire case. All of them safely brought back home by Minghao. You do not know how or when you threw your case through the window for it to end up at Minghao's yard, but he always brings some hot chocolate and a small talk with him, so you do not complain.

After all, you don't even remember how you wake up every morning by the end of the day. You end up thinking you need to control yourself a little more during finals.

One day it gets out of hand. You've probably had the worst of the days. You woke up late because you didn't hear the alarm clock, your roommates being all lovey-dovey already got you on your nerves, your exam was harder than you expected and you had a bad feeling about your answers. Then, when you finally got home, late and tired, your keys were nowhere to be found. You could feel your eyes getting watery and you knocked at the door. Nobody answers, your friend and Mingyu are celebrating their anniversary and you don't want to bother them even if all you want is a hot shower and watching a romantic without friends to cuddle. You immediately think of Minghao, would it be too much if you asked him to spend some time with you? You answer to yourself that yes, it would be too much, there's no need to bother anyone else. So what do you do now?

"Y/n?" Somebody asks behind you.

"Minghao?" And there you have it, just the one you were thinking of.

"Hi, uhm, are you okay?" You want to cry to that question, but you manage to hold back your tears.

"I'm fine I just- I must have lost my keys because I can't find them and there's no one home and I just want to sleep." You explain briefly.

"Are these your keys?" He holds something in his left hand that looks like your keyring -a framed pink paper with your name on it and a little olaf your sister once bought you-

"How did you find it?"

"I didn't, it appeared in my yard". He is as confused as you are.

"But... I remember I put it inside the pocket of my bag." You explain. "When I arrived it was opened so I just supposed they fell out. And there's no way they fell into your yard because they are always inside my bag, I never threw them... Why would anyone throw a keyring through my window? I-" You try to explain without taking a breath so that Minghao doesn't think you're a weirdo, but now you can't fight back your tears and Minghao looks worried.

"It's okay Y/n, don't worry, I understand. Well, I don't, but I know you didn't do it. Hold on let's get inside I'll make you some hot chocolate and we can watch a movie, okay?"

You nod without thinking, just wanting to be lulled into some peace. He makes you some hot choco as promised and makes some small talk while choosing a movie to watch.

"So where are your roommates?" He asks.

"Celebrating their anniversary."

"Wait, are they dating?"

"Didn't you know?"

"No? I'm so shocked what the hell." You laugh at his astonished face. "But are they...?"

"Soulmates? Yes, they are."

"Woah, lucky."

"I know right." You don't want this topic to surface but you can't help but ask. "Have you met your soulmate?"

"I haven't." After a few seconds, he adds, "have you?"

"No, not a single clue of who they are. I don't have a timer or a tattoo, or see them in my dreams... I'm getting tired of waiting. Overall watching the two lovebirds every day of my life."

"It is the same thing for me. I'd love to meet them or just to know how they are. I know I'm young and all that but I'm just very curious and almost all my friends have met them while I still don’t know how to find them. I feel left out."

You nod, relating to that feeling.

"By the way, if it gets tiring, why don't you just move out?"

"I don't know where to move to be honest. I don't know if I want to go through the 'look for a new apartment' process again, it's too tiring. Besides, I still have fun with them, they're not to blame for my loneliness."

Minghao laughs and looks away.

"Just so you know, I'm moving out next month. I found another apartment for a better price and I'm going to leave the one I have now. If it gets too unbearable, you can just take my place." And you are too focused on yourself to notice the sad look on his face.

Because Minghao and your little encounters made your whole living in a student's apartment life better, and you don't want him to go away. But you are just a neighbor in Minghao's life, so who are you to tell him that?

Minghao moves the following month just as promised, and you can't remove the moping face you wear.

"Why are you so sad Y/n? I've seen the new neighbor, he is as hot as Minghao." Your friend winks and you roll your eyes.

"I don't care. If he doesn't pick up my stuff then I don't want him."

"I've heard he is all the time arguing with their other roommate. Maybe they leave sooner than expected and Minghao comes back!"

"Don't be mean, Gyu!" You nag and he shrugs.

Somebody's knocking at the door distracts you from your conversation and both of your friends turn to look at you.

"Why do I always have to get the door? There's no Minghao now, I don't want it."

"Maybe is your new blue prince"

"Shut up, Mingyu."

But when you open the door to a frowning Minghao, your heart backflips.

"What are you doing here Hao? Is everything okay?"

"I am a little concerned." He shows you a small necklace you recognize immediately. "What was this doing in my house?"

"I lost it last week at university! I didn't know where it went." You try to answer.

"To my room?"

"Look, I also don't know what was my necklace doing in your house in which I've never stepped a foot in because is like five kilometers away ... Oh my god Hao did you walk here?"

"I took the bus." He looks down and then right at you. "The last time I saw you you were wearing it. I've been thinking for a week how did this get there since I haven't seen you in a month, I never took it and I know for sure you are not a stalker who would leave their necklace inside my room when nobody’s looking."

"Have you reached any conclusion?"

"Absolutely none. Then I talked to Jun and he said some of the romantic trash he usually thinks of, but this made me think."

"What did he say?" You don't know what direction this conversation is taking.

"He's a soulmate expert you know? He told me that maybe it’s because destiny wants us to meet again and I thought that couldn't be because oh god, what have I done to deserve you? Then I decided to make a little experiment and I'm really nervous because if this doesn't work out I might have lost the most important thing to me. Do you mind checking your room?"

You feel everything inside you revolving because of every single one of his words, but still, you do as he requests. You check your room, ignoring the question marks over your roommate's heads, and find nothing different. Except for a new notebook on top of your nightstand you hadn't noticed. It's a sketchbook, and all of the drawings on the inside are signed with Minghao's name.

"Is this yours?" He sighs in relief when he recognizes the sketchbook.

"This is a part of my life, you know?"

"Then how did you lose this?"

"I told June to leave it somewhere I didn't know so that I couldn't even look for it. I wasn't sure if it was going to work."

"I can't believe the universe does works like this."

"Me neither, but I'm glad it did."

"So, you said this friend of yours is an expert in soulmates?" You don't want to ask it directly, but you want to know if he's implying that you two are soulmates.

"Yes, I used the s word." You both laugh.

"Does this mean that you and I... You know."

"Jun told me this type of soulmate is rare, but it has happened under easier circumstances. All I know is that I keep finding you every time and I don't know if I ever want to stop finding you."

"OH COME ON JUST KISS ALREADY." You hear Mingyu shouting from the kitchen. "Babe, now I know how Y/n felt with us."

You want to laugh at Mingyu and tell him 'Ha, suffer you loser', but Minghao has other plans.

When he kisses you everything just seems simple and suddenly everything is fine, and you don't want to stop doing it. It's warm, it feels as if you had lost and found the most important thing in your life.

"Hold on then why did I never find anything yours?"

"Y/n, you break the kiss just to ask this?" You blush and he sighs. "I'm a very organized person, unlike others, so I barely lose things, happy now?"

"No. Does this mean that if I get lost in a crowd would you magically find me? You know, since I got lost."

"I don't know Y/n, and I don't want to find out. Now come here, I want to cuddle."

"Oh, yes. Finally."

#seventeen #minghao #seventeen imagines #minghao imagines #seventeen fluff #the8 imagines #minghao fluff #seventeen x reader #minghao x reader #seventeen au #minghao au #seventeen scenarios #minghao scenarios #seventeen fanfic #minghao fanfic #seventeen oneshot #minghao oneshot #seventeen drabble #minghao drabble

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light679 · 4 years ago

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Leon’s bedroom

So, I’ve done an analysis of Leon’s outfits, so now it’s time to hyper-fixate over his room. Especially with some of the more negative posts and thoughts going around, let's put the foolishness behind us and focus on some positive things about our lovely champ.

There is red everywhere. Different shades and colors, but red is a clear theme. Boy has a favorite color, it’s red. He looks good in red, end of story. Jk. I think it’s fitting for this to be his favorite color, between his passionate personality and his ace Pokemon being a fire type, it makes sense.

Books. Books everywhere. The books and magazines don’t appear to be champion-related. They all seem to be nonfiction and a lot of them are unpacked, meaning Leon brings or sends home books constantly. Which also probably goes to show that Leon has every intention of reading and going home more, but ends up being too busy with his responsibilities to actually ever get to read the things he buys and sends home. Leon is clearly smart, and has read some challenging books.

The workout equipment. Even though he almost never goes home, he still has it there, and it’s one of the few things in his room that isn’t neatly put away, suggesting he uses it when he goes home. Otherwise, it's a good possibility someone would have packed it up. Also, the fact that when you look at the workout equipment it says that it looks like a Pokemon could use it too has me stuck with a mental image of Leon trying to pump up Charizard with cheers as Charizard attempts to benchpress.

Which brings me to the dumbells that can be seen on his desk. The pens on his desk make it seem like this is where he reads and maybe writes some things. Yet on the other side of his desk, there’s some little dumbells. Leon clearly has a lot of energy, but maybe even suggests that Leon constantly has to be moving/fidding with something, even if he is reading. Which feeds into the adhd/anxiety theory. Or in general, just him having a lot of energy that he constantly feels the need to expend.

In his room, there is only one picture of himself throwing a Pokeball- NO champion materials here. All of the Champion regalia is in his living room/clearly put out in places the rest of his family is. (I have a lot of thoughts on the Leon-shrine in the living room, but that's not the purpose of this post). Leon doesn't keep this stuff on display in his own room. Which adds support to the fact that Leon is clearly more than just the Undefeated Champion. I believe that Leon puts on the "Undefeated Champion" act when he's around people, especially Hop, who looks up to him constantly, but lets that act down and lets people see more of the 'real Leon' underneath it all. The one who's clearly a huge sweet and dorky nerd who just likes to better himself constantly, whether it be mentally or physically.

THE CAPS He hasn’t really been home much since he became Champion. There are SO many caps. he’s clearly been collecting snapbacks for awhile. Which makes it even more sweet that he continues to keep his snapback with him during his new phase of life as Battle Tower owner and Chairman. no matter how he changes as a person, it kinda signifies he’s still holding true to himself and the things he loves- which when it comes down to it, is battling/Pokemon and snapbacks.

There are a few duplicate caps, which suggests he either has some caps he really likes enough to get multiples of, OR (most-likely), there are some very small differences that Leon hyper-fixates on/notices that most people wouldn’t.

-’N’s’ cap on top of the bookshelf. I've seen a few fan theories about the cap that sits on the top of the bookshelf which looks like N's. I think it'd be interesting for the two of them to meet. Both have an overall goal of making Pokemon the best they can be. N had his goals of liberating them from trainers and Leon has the goals of making trainers and Pokemon have the best battles by constantly working on themselves and their bonds with their Pokemon. A meeting of these two would be incredibly interesting I feel, especially pre-events of Black/White.

There are some caps on plaques in various spots around his room. I definitely have to wonder why these caps are on plaques specifically, or what they mean. (If anyone has insight into this, pleaaase tell me, I'm fascinated).

His room is also really tidy. While his grandma also talks about keeping his room tidy for him, Hop’s room is also a complete mess. Also, a few of the dumbells and workout equipment pieces are still out and some are on the floor, so if she was doing 100% of the legwork on cleaning, those materials would probably be put away. So Leon, to some extent, is most likely at least pretty tidy. Either that, or he visits often enough that the dumbells don't really need to be put away.

-Can we talk about the Charmander he leaves for you? In HIS ROOM? Why you expecting me to come in your room Leon? 👀 Jk. I do think it’s a very sweet and symbolic way for him to give you the Charmander. He got his start with his own Charmander in Postwick and now he’s passing that legacy onto you, the new Champion. Just as I’m sure former champions have passed something on to him in some way or another. Just another way to show his support for you even after yourand his big battle are over.

#leon #champion leon #Pokemon leon #dande #pokemon dande #dande pokemon #pokemon sword leon #pokemon swsh

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rainydayhogwartsimagines · 4 years ago

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Hey there! Could I please get a fred Weasley x reader where the reader is a Slytherin, but befriends everyone all the same, maybe with the trope of her being best friends w the twins and everyone trying to set her and Fred up bc there's so much tension? But they're terribly oblivious? I absolutely love this trope lmaoo. Thank you and have a wonderful day!✨❤️

This is cute-- How in the world do you guys come up with this adorable stuff omfg.

Warnings: Abuse, swearing, panic attacks, slight NSFW conversations, set in a non voldy world.

You were a strange one. A Slytherin with a Hufflepuff personality. Honestly anyone that knew you questioned if for once the sorting hat was wrong for the first time. You had friends EVERYWHERE. Fred and George had heard of you, people saying even Filch could find you enjoyable to be around. Once they heard that, oh boy, they had to meet you. Fred and George finally did by the lake one day. Fred was talking to George, noticing a few cracks from limbs in the tree they were standing under here and there. Finally they had an answer as to what was making it do that when they heard “OH SHIT” followed by “INCOMING!” followed by you falling right into Fred’s arms. “My bad, I was trying to get a bird back in its nest.” You apologized, hopping down the the ground. Fred blinked a couple of times, looking at the tree and then you. “Uh... twig.” George said, pointing to his head to indicate you had a twig in your hair. “Hmm? Oh! thank you!” You realized. “Did... You just fall out of a tree?” Fred asked. “You’d be surprised on how much that happens. Oh are you those twins I’ve been hearing about?” You asked. “Probably. I’m Fred--” “That’s George, yep I know.” You nodded. “...Who are you?” George asked. “Oh-- I’m Y/n!” You said. “Ohhhhh. See this is beginning to make sense now.” George nodded. Fred was just... Staring at you. It wasn’t a perplexed face of “What the fuck just happened”. It was more: “This girl is.. Pretty?”

The twins started having more interactions with you. But there was the day you three became friends that neither of the boys will forget. Fred and George were sitting in the library. Reading? No. Napping? Yes. Well, until you slid into a seat. “Y/n?” Fred yawned. “Act. natural.” You said with this wild eyed look making George raise a brow. Then Draco ran in... With green hair. Fred was now awake and you were hiding your face in a book. “Have you seen Y/n!?” Draco growled. “No... But I see you decided to wear your Slytherin pride today.” George snorted. “You.” Draco growled. Then he noticed you laughing. He pulled down the book. “YOU!” He shouted. “Shit!” You gasped before Fred slid a chair in front of Draco, George bolting with you. You all hid in the one place Draco would never be caught dead in. The Gryffindor common room. You collapsed out of breath on the couch laughing with the boys. “What in the world made you do that?” George wheezed. “He decided to be a dick to my friend this morning. I got revenge. Tomorrow I’m thinking blue. He’s been giving Ravenclaw trouble lately.” You laughed making Fred snort. “Your idea is amazing, might I suggest we rig an exploding ink pen?” George said. “With silver ink, because red just seems to clash with that boy’s eyes.” You said making the boys laugh harder. “Oh I think we’re going to enjoy having you around, won’t we Freddie boy?” George asked. “Indeed Georgie. Indeed.” Fred chuckled.

So the mischievous three were introduced to the world. You had this policy though: Only prank the assholes. So that automatically meant a lot of kids from Slytherin. With each prank you got closer to the boys. Specifically Fred. Something about him just drew you in, like a moth to a flame. George wasn’t stupid either, he could see the looks you two would give each other. When you all entered your fourth year, you had started helping out with their little underground business. You spent the first two weeks of summer that year at home but actually ended up staying with the Weasleys’. You seemed... A little off though. Fred and George both noticed you begin to space out at times, giving off almost this sad look. Whenever they’d talk to you though, you looked at them like you normally would. Something was wrong. They could feel it. It wasn’t until they met your father at the station they realized what was going on. He seemed to snap at you a lot, making you go completely silent. To anyone that didn’t know you this was a normal response. To the boys though, you always had something to say. If you were quiet, this was because you were afraid. Not disciplined. You sat on the train in complete silence. Neither of the boys were sure if they should ask you about your dad. You focused on the rain drops on the window. “I’ve always liked the rain. What about you guys?” You finally asked. “Makes me tired as shit.” George said making you crack a smile. “Heard one of Harry’s uncles is teaching this year.” Fred said. “I think I remembered him mentioning that. The Remus guy?” You asked. “He’s standing in while Quirrell is away.” George nodded. “As long as it isn’t like last year’s substitute.” You groaned. “Fucking Gilderoy.” All of you said in unison making each other laugh. “I swear a simple breeze makes Quirrell catch something.” George sighed. “He does end up getting sick a lot. Remember when he got chicken pox?” You asked. “You would’ve thought the bastard was dying.” Fred nodded. ”He has the immune system of an infant, I swear.” you laughed.

You all sat around in the Great Hall, you catching a glimpse of who the new substitute professor was. He had a scar on his face and it reminded you of something. You just couldn’t figure out what. Eventually though, you came to like the way Remus taught. He had a sense of humor. Not that Quirrell didn’t it was just very awkward when he did finally crack a damn joke. Remus rose a brow when he saw your first and last name on the roll call. “Miss Y/n, is your mother perhaps Persephone L/n?” Remus asked. Fred rose a brow. “She was sir.” you said, making George look up. “Was?” Remus asked. “She passed on when I was eight sir. Why, did you know her?” you asked, earning a couple of students to glance at your response. “I did. Very kind woman. Who did she marry?” Remus asked. “Cassian Lestrange sir.” You responded, making everyone now halt. “...I see.” Remus nodded. “Something wrong?” You asked. “No offense.. I truly mean none. But I genuinely cannot see Cassian as a father.” Remus admitted. You nodded looking down. “He’s... An interesting man.” You muttered, your look distant and pained. Remus noticed, but changed the subject. Fred looked back at his desk. He had no idea about any of this, much less a distant relation to Draco. Judging by your reaction to the questions though, Fred decided it was best to leave it be. You enjoyed Remus’ class, him noticing a few similarities to your mother as you interacted with other students. You always had a smile on your face when you spoke to others. But the one thing he always noticed was the looks that you and Fred would share. George usually paired up with a girl but Fred ALWAYS paired up with you. You two worked well together. It almost reminded him of two other people he knew... Today though, wasn’t the best of days. It was time to practice Boggarts. You already knew what yours was, but you weren’t ready to exactly displayed to the class. You however walked forward and did it anyways, holding your breath as the Boggart began to shift. Finally it did.

Into your father. You opened your mouth to say a spell but nothing came out, your hands shaking as it inched forward. Fred looked at you and then the boggart, quickly pulling you back with one arm and shouting “riddikulus”. You couldn’t still your breathing and it only seemed to be getting worse. “Y/n? Look at me.” Fred said, ignoring the students watching you. Remus locked the closet and you hyperventilated. “Class dismissed.” Remus said, shuffling the other students out. “I-I can’t-- b-breathe.” you whimpered. George ran over and you gripped your head. “Y/n. I’m right here Love, follow my breathing.” Fred said softly. You followed his movements. “What’s your favorite book?” George asked making Remus raise a brow. “S-sense and Sensibility.” You answered, still regulating your breathing. ��Personally I’m more of a short story man, what about you Freddie?” George asked. “Not big on reading. More of a napping fellow.” Fred answered. You let out a small laugh and straightened your posture. “What’s your favorite class?” Fred asked. “P-probably this one.. with the exception of t-today.” you answered. Remus reached into his drawer and handed you chocolate and a bottled water. “Thank you professor.” You muttered. You sat down and sighed. “Y/n... I hate to ask this, truly I do. But is there anything going on at home?” Remus asked. You didn’t say anything. “I... Don’t want to answer that question.” You finally said. Fred frowned and George exchanged a look. “Boys, do you mind leaving us for a few moments?” Remus asked. Fred kneeled to you, looking at your face. “I’ll be outside if you need me. Okay?” He asked. You nodded and he got up, leaving with George.

The door closed and Fred let out a long sigh. “I am going to kill her father, want to help?” Fred said. “Hand me a shovel.” George said simply. “Why didn’t she say anything?” Fred asked. “She doesn’t even want to talk to Lupin Fred. You saw her face, she most likely didn’t want to remember.” George said. Fred looked at the door and sighed. “We can’t let her go home George. Not this summer.” Fred said. “I’m with you.” George agreed. The two boys became a bit more protective over you. But they found it so strange that you still kept the happy go lucky personality despite going through all of this. Then Fred found you one night in the astronomy tower with a blanket. You were propped up against one of the stone arch’s and looking at the night sky. “Y/n?” Fred asked. You looked over at him. “Hey Fred.” You said with that smile. He sat across from you. “What brings you up here?” Fred asked. “Insomnia. And cookies.” You said. “Cookies?” Fred asked. You scooched closer to him, pushing a tin of cookies to him. He took one and you sighed looking at the stars. “Can I ask you something?” He said. “Sure.” You nodded. “What keeps that smile on your face all the time?” He asked. You let out a long breath, thinking over a detailed answer. “Lots of reasons. I have two kickass best friends that will fight for me no matter what, I have really cool teachers, I have friends who are like family.” you answered. “But... I keep that smile because some times someone just needs to see the good in the world. I won’t lie to you. My life is much darker than I think you accounted for. But if my smile provides someone else some light then damn it I’ll keep this up.” You said. Fred looked at you surprised. “Y/n...” He muttered. You looked at Fred and he said nothing, pulling you into his arms. You slowly hugged him back and he sighed. “I swear if anyone tries anything with you again, I will personally send them to their grave.” Fred said making you laugh. “I’m serious!” Fred said, not being able to keep a straight face seeing your smile. “Shut up and take a cookie.” You laughed.

You two were found passed out the next morning my Luna. You were in Fred’s arms and he was holding you close. You two never brought it up, despite the fact that both of you were blushing like crazy when you woke up. It was now CRYSTAL fucking clear how Fred felt about you to George after witnessing a snowball fight between you two that resulted in Fred tickling your sides and making you laugh during a Hogsmeade trip. You smiled in his arms, faces inches apart. If Fred and George’s jackass brother hadn’t gotten into a fight with Draco, George was 95% sure you two would’ve kissed.

You seemed distracted by something else though, and that was your professor. The scar on his face- why did it look familiar? And why was Remus going to Snape for a secret potion? You noticed that he was pretty secretive about his personal life and Harry never answered the question of where the mark came from. You took what you like to call “The Granger Approach.” Which was basically reading until you had a reliable answer. Fred sat with you the entire time, napping or talking to George while you read. Both boys were passed out by the time you found an answer. “Oh... Shit.” you realized, making Fred open an eye. “Find what you’re looking for?” George yawned. “...Yeah and I think Remus is going to be absent tomorrow.” You said looking at the full moon through the large glass windows. “Why’s that?” Fred asked. “He’s a werewolf.” You said in a whisper. Both boys looked at you with a “You can’t be serious” expression. “What makes you say that?” Fred asked. “Ron said something. Harry’s class saw his boggart. It was the moon.” You said. George blinked. “If our little brother is your proof that’s not exactly reliable.” George said. “How do you explain the potions he gets from Snape, or the scar on his face, or the fact that he was leaving campus this afternoon?” You asked. “He was?” Fred asked. “He was sneaking around but I noticed him.” You shrugged. “Alright. Say he doesn’t show up tomorrow. Who fills in for a substitute?” George asked. “Probably Snape.” you grumbled. “You’re a Slytherin and you don’t like Snape? My God you really are a strange one.” Fred teased making you smile. George rolled his eyes. “Do we ask him about this?” George asked. “No. We leave this alone unless Remus needs help.” you said. “How in the hell were you not sorted into Hufflepuff? Like honestly?” Fred asked. “I have no idea. Luna says its never wrong though.” You shrugged.

Sure enough, Remus didn’t show up and Snape took over class that day. Fred, George and you all exchanged knowing glances but overall didn’t say anything. The school year finally came to a close and you were honestly sad to see Remus go. The crazy thing was: That day when you explained your boggart to Remus, he told you that his door was open to you if you needed to leave home. You declined but Fred was hellbent on you staying with them for the summer. He hated the idea of you being potentially in harm’s way. This offer you accepted. You showed up, bags in hand with that same beautiful smile. Molly was of course excited to see you and you were happy to be there. The Burrow honestly felt like home. You and Fred had so many moments though that made the whole family go “Dude. Kiss already. PLEASE.” Specifically when you saw a spider and screamed, practically climbing up Fred while he killed the damn thing. “You managed to go into the forbidden forest alone and came back unscathed but a small spider scares you?” Fred asked, your legs having a death grip around his torso. “THEY ARE FUCKING CREEPY FRED!” You whined. “It’s smaller than you!” He laughed, holding you up. “SO IS A GRENADE!” you whined. You hopped down and eyed the dead spider. “Afraid it’ll crawl--” “FRED IT HAD BABIES!” You screamed, climbing right back up him, more directed to his face. “Oh for Christ’s sake--” He said, enchanting a broom to sweep them out. “You’re a Slytherin. All of you have creepy creatures for pets and you are terrified of..” “Fred faced you as you were linked to his side, inches away from him. You looked in his eyes, almost as if you were looking for something, swallowing hard. “What the hell happened here?” Ron asked, seeing the two of you. “I saw a spider.” “OH GOD WHERE--”

George was tired of this tension. Yes, it was cute to see his brother head over heels. But my GOD WERE YOU FUCKING DENSE. BOTH OF YOU. How could you two have so many OBVIOUS moments that would make people who barely knew you go “Oh so they like each other” But you two still be clueless to the other’s intentions. You two also talked endlessly to George and Ginny. Both of them would sit there listening wanting to say something, but kept their oaths of silence. This year things were bound to change though. You see: this year was a Triwizard tournament. Other schools were coming to this shindig. And a boy from Durmstrang seemed awfully fixated on you. You were friendly, inviting him to sit and Fred would just be internally screaming the whole time watching you. The Durmstrang boy would do things that literally made Fred’s eye fucking twitch: playing with your hair, complimenting your smile, constantly looking at you. You were oblivious to this being flirty though, unaware of the boy’s crush on you. Finally one day Fred had to talk to you about it. He could not stand watching this little fucker with you. “You should talk to her Fred. Tell her how you feel.” George said. “And if she doesn’t feel the same way?” Fred asked. George practically slammed his head down onto the table in frustration, releasing a long groan. “JUST. ASK. HER.” George whined, making Fred jump. “Good God man, what’s gotten into you!?” Fred asked. “NOTHING FRED. ABSOLUTELY NOTHING.” George groaned, getting up and making Ginny nearly die of silent laughter.

You were in the library, grabbing a few books for a herbology project when Fred popped up, scaring the shit out of you. “Christ! Say something when you’re behind me!” You breathed. “Sorry! Sorry.” Fred apologized. “What do you need?” You asked curiously. “What’s going on with you and that Durmstrang kid?” Fred asked. “What do you mean?” you asked, moving down the aisle, looking for a specific book. “Do you like him?” Fred asked. “He’s cool.” You shrugged. “Not like that Y/n.” Fred huffed. “Like what?” You asked. “Romantically. Do you like him romantically?” Fred asked. “Wha-- no!” You gagged. Fred felt a wave of relief wash over him. “Why did you want to know?” You asked. “It’s just... He acts like he likes you. That’s all.” Fred said. You stopped and turned around, a questioning squint on your face. “Would it have bothered you if I did?” You asked. “Yes.” Fred answered, no hesitation in his words. “Why?” you asked. Fuck. Fred did not think this through. “It just would’ve.” Fred said. “Again, why would this have bothered you?” You asked. “No particular reason!” He lied. “Answer the god damn question before I ask out Luka out of spite!” You snapped. “You do that and I ask Angela out!” He said back. You glared. “Oh that bothers you!?” Fred noticed the expression. “Yes it bothers me!” You said. “Why!?” Fred asked. “I asked you first, you dolt!” You said. Both of you were quickly becoming aggravated, glaring at each other. Fred couldn’t take it anymore and slammed his lips onto yours, resulting in you dropping the book in your hands and cupping his cheeks. You two eventually pulled away for this stupid thing called air and you let out a small laugh. “Well shit Fred, if you would’ve just started with that I wouldn’t have had to ask.” You laughed. He smiled, his hands around your waist. “You’re lucky we’re in public or else I would’ve done a lot more than that Princess.” Fred said in your ear. You looked at him with a smirk “If I knew making you jealous would make you act like this, my God I would’ve made friends with this kid ages ago.” You laughed. “Oh bite your tongue.” He chuckled. “Hmm, I’m thinking I leave that to you.” you teased. He shook his head, kissing you again.

George caught you two and he actually screamed “HALLEFUCKINGLUJAH” at the top of his lungs, making both of you jump. You three ended up in detention (you and Fred were in trouble for the book mess), George telling you two how the past few months were absolute hell. “I have been watching you two jackasses, trying to get you to DATE since LAST JANUARY. IT’S OCTOBER.” George complained. “It wasn’t that bad!” You laughed. “Not that bad-- NOT THAT BAD!? FRED TALKS MY GOD DAMN EAR OFF ABOUT YOU AT NIGHT-- I DON’T SLEEP” George whined. “Has he now?” You asked, smirking at Fred who was smiling. “You’re always on the bastard’s mind! And I have to listen to Ginny complain to me with the same issue-- ‘Y/n was talking about Fred again to Hermione. Something about if given the chance she’d definitely shag him’.” George quoted making you choke on air and cough as Fred looked at you with an amused smirk. “Would you now?” Fred asked. You rolled your eyes “What was it you said to me a few hours ago-- ‘You’re lucky we’re in public or else--’” “I remember what I said Darling, I just wanted to know where your mind was.” Fred teased. “Oh you know exactly what I’m thinking you little shit.” You griped making him snort. “Oh God Mcgonagall better come back soon, I’m locked in a room with two randy jackasses.” George prayed aloud. “Relax we’re not going to shag.” Fred said. “Thank god.” George sighed. “That’s not until three.” Fred yawned making you snort and George slammed his head on his desk. “DRINK HOLY WATER YOU UNGODLY SINNERS”

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley

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yurissweettooth · 4 years ago

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Yay For 10 Years!🎉🎉

*Psst, click the image for higher quality!*

I have zero shame in saying that this show (and all related media) has changed my whole life in so many ways! I’m also not shy about the fact that my heart belongs to Yuri (I think he's so cool!) so of course he was the obvious choice for who do draw and write a short, light hearted fic about (which you can read below the cut!)💚💙

I hope everyone has had a lot of fun on this day!

“Let’s see here… Kotetsu Kaburagi damage report… Kotetsu Kaburagi damage report… Kotetsu Kaburagi... damage report…” Yuri exhaled, massaging the bridge of his nose in exasperation as he leafed through a mountain of crinkled, coffee stained documents. It was of little to no surprise that the pile of paperwork that had been left on his desk while he was away on his lunch break could mostly be attributed to the more reckless half of Sternbild’s prized crime fighting duo. With a sigh Yuri lifted the receiver of his phone, intending to politely remind Tiger once again not to use his paperwork as a coaster. However, before he could dial the number it had begun to ring.

“Justice department, Yuri Petrov speaking.” he answered, suppressing his annoyance and replacing it with his usual polite tone.

“Good afternoon Mr. Petrov, it’s Agnes. As you might be aware, today is the ten year anniversary of the Justice Tower’s remodeling.” She explained.

“Remodeling?”

“Yes. Ten years ago today all of the walls were repainted and appliances replaced to give it a more modern look to reflect a new era of Heroes.” She stated, as if that really explained anything at all.

“That is quite lovely to hear Ms. Joubert. The paint is, uh, a very nice color.” he stated politely, not even sparing a glance at the boring grey walls that surrounded him.

“Look, you don’t have to flatter me, I couldn’t care less about the paint color either. The sponsors are complaining that the returns on their investments are decreasing so we need to drum up some interest and we need to do it fast. Anything can be a reason to celebrate if you look at it right way, right? I mean, do you have any better ideas?”

“Ms. Joubert, I’m merely a judge… I apologize, but I don’t see what this has to do with me.”

“Yes, precisely! You’re a judge, bringer of justice, upholder of the law!” she passionately proclaimed “Apollon media stands for justice, as such it’s only natural that we feature a man of true justice like yourself..”

Yuri elicits a sound of smug approval and leans back in his chair “Well, I suppose when you word it in that way I may be able to see your point.”

“Fantastic! So, of course our main heroes are our star attraction, our second league heroes are a nice side dish, but you’re probably somewhere right below that when it comes to your importance in delivering justice. ”

“Oh… is that so?” Yuri asked as his briefly amused tone fell flat at her backhanded remark. Was she trying to insult him?

“Precisely.” she said as though she believed she had just bestowed upon him the complement of the century. “I was thinking, in a way you’re kind of like a minor hero yourself so maybe we could spin it as something like a ‘Meet Sternbild’s Hidden Heroes!’ segment. Of course we’ll save all the big questions for our real heroes but maybe at some point we could get your perspective on what you think of the decor of the tower and what it’s like to be a judge.”

As he began to feel the backs of his eyes grow warm he made the quick decision to end the call there before he lost his composure. “Agnes, you always have incredible ideas and I wish you all the best with pursuing that. Thank you for the information, I'll think it over. I’ll be returning to my paperwork now but please don’t hesitate to contact me again when you are in need of further assistance.”

“Oh, you're doing paperwork? In that case, this is actually a great opportunity. Stay put and act natural, I’ll be there in just a minute with the supplies and the film crew.” Agnes made a point of hanging up quickly before he even got the chance to protest.

Just as she’d promised, Agnes and her posse were barging into his office and shoving cameras in his face before he’d even been able to sign off on the first document. She wasted no time in bounding right up to his desk, turning towards the camera.

“Would you look at that, Sternbild’s very own Judge Yuri Petrov, hard at work as usual!” She gracefully spun around and held the microphone out to him “So tell us Yuri, what are you working on currently?”

He pursed his lips, just barely masking his disapproval. He had never been one for interviews, especially not while presenting simply as Judge Petrov, so he figured it best just to blurt out a few simple answers and get it over with quickly. “Well you see, Wild Tiger has again destroyed more property in one week than a group of delinquents could in their entire lifetime." He motioned to the papers in front of him "As you can see, I have a lot of damage reports that I need to-.”

It was rather frightening how suddenly Agnes was able to snap out of her charming, professional mode. “Hey! Take your job seriously!” she shouted, slamming her hands against his desk. “You’re supposed to say ‘Heh heh, I’m sure you would love to know but that’s confidential.’ and wink at the camera or something like that.”

“You’re right, my apologies." Yuri said. He tucked a lock of his hair behind his ears, shuffled his papers, and started again. Sorry, I can’t tell you what I’m working on as doing so would violate the code outlined in article 371 B of the Sternbild judic-”

“Ugh, forget it, moving on. Ahem, soooo Mr. Petrov, why don’t you tell us a little bit about what led you to become a judge and why serving justice is so important to you.”

“Ah, well that one is simple.” he said, putting on the vaguest semblance of a friendly smile “I believe that justice is important.”

Agnes nodded her head, the microphone still pointed at him for a moment longer. That is, until the moment passed without him saying anything else. “I-is that all?”

“I’m not sure what else can really be said on the topic.” he stated matter-of-factly.

“Jeez, who hired this guy…” she muttered. “Well, can you at least tell me what you think of the new penholders?”

“Aren’t these from ten years ago?”

“Well they’re newer to you because you only started working here just within the past two years.”

“Mm, I see… but couldn’t the same have been said for the pen holders that were here before the renovation if they were still here now? Does being new to me really make them new?”

Agnes lowered the microphone and gave him a look that would make even Lunatic tremble in fear. “Alright, I had hoped we could avoid it but you’ve left me no choice but to resort to plan B.”

The words “plan B” didn’t leave the most pleasant feeling in Yuri’s gut and, for a moment, he almost considered interjecting and asking to restart the interview. However, Agnes already had her mind made up and was knocking his paperwork and carefully arranged pens aside to make room for a large box displaying the company logo. She rifled through the contents, producing a large cupcake bearing red and green candles in the shape of the number ten among other various party related items.

“Bring it in.” Agnes motioned her crew closer to get a better shot as she rounded the corner of his desk and placed a large, blue and green party hat on his head, pressing it down to try and make it sit smoothly atop his curly hair. “You like these colors, right?” she asked, as if the colors were what might be wrong with this.

“Well, yes but…” he started, but she silenced him with a simple wave of her hand.

“Alright, great. Here, put this in your mouth.” she said, shoving a party blowout, rather reminiscent of Sky High's suit, towards his lips “Try not to get any lipstick on it, we need to reuse this for next year.”

“May I ask why you are making me do this?” Yuri asked, his resolve wavering.

“I’ve decided we’re doing a magazine interview instead. I’ll write out all of your answers for you, we just need a few photos of you to accompany them. Now, pretend like you’re having fun!” she reached back into the box, grabbed a handful of confetti, and sprinkled the colored paper over his head. “Cain, go go go!” she instructed, hoping not to have to waste all of their confetti on just one shoot.

Yuri complied, albeit begrudgingly, but only because it seemed to be the only way to put an end to this save for burning the place down. He gave her the smile she requested, posed with the cake, and shuffled his papers around a few more times to make it look like he had been working.

“Alright, that’s a wrap.” Agnes said at last “This should be enough to work with." She said as she began to pick what confetti she could from Yuri’s hair and place it back into the box.

“Ms. Joubert, I must ask, will something like this really be helpful to our image?” Yuri sighs.

Agnes closes up the box and sets it on the floor beside his desk.“Well, it will be interesting, that’s for sure.” she answered vaguely, “Thanks for your time, I think I can use what I got. I saw you eyeing it so you can keep the cake as compensation, just have the other stuff back to me by this evening.” She had already turned to leave before another thought popped into her head “Oh, and Yuri?”

Yuri, rather reluctantly, looked up with a questioning look. He prayed it wasn't another weird question or dumb photo idea.

“Maybe try to be a bit more cheerful sometimes, with an attitude like that people are going to start thinking you hate heroes or something. Plus, you actually look sort of pleasant when you’re smiling and having fun, even if you're just faking.” she shrugged. “Anyway, I’ll have a copy of the issue on your desk when it comes out.” she said, waving her crew after her and closing the door behind them.

Yuri, now alone in his trashed office, exhaled a sigh of relief at her departure. “I suppose the public wouldn’t be too pleased if they thought their judge hated heroes.” he remarks to himself as his glowing fingertips make contact with the candle wicks and set them alight. Once his hand had cooled he brushed it across the surface of his desk and collected the remaining confetti, repeating Agnes’s words from their phone call earlier about how anything can be a reason to celebrate. He took the stack of papers and shoved it into the bottom drawer of his desk. In a swift movement he sat back and tossed the confetti into the air above his head in celebration of ,what he just decided, was going to be a well deserved and much needed day off. As the scraps of paper rained down on him he recalled her other words and smiled to himself.

#tiger and bunny #tiger & bunny #tigerbunny10 #yuri petrov #agnes joubert #this was a really quick stream of conscious thing so i hope its not too bad!

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princesssarcastia · 5 years ago

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a veronica mars leverage au, i guess, because what else should i be doing with my life?

*deep sigh*

So I was thinking about the mechanics of a veronica mars leverage au—as in, veronica mars characters in a leverage like set-up, because the leverage setup is the golden standard™ of like, the known universe.

you have veronica mars, mastermind; the rest of the crew being made up of wallace, mac, logan, and weevil. and mac is obviously the hacker.

but I also think that, in this au, the roles won’t be so clear cut. the problem is that in veronica mars, all of these characters (except mac, who is an archetype) display different skills from each of the five defined roles in the leverage universe: hitter, hacker, grifter, thief, mastermind.

veronica is a mastermind, sure, but she also makes killer fake IDs and breaks into systems like hardison does and is a hell of a grifter.

weevil can throw down, and lift things like a thief, and even pull one over on someone in a grifter-like fashion. and as head of the PCHers he has some definitive mastermind tendencies; he knows how to plan a fight, and a con.

wallace is more of a solid dude than a member of the criminal element, but when veronica needs him, he’s played roles like a grifter and pulled off lifts like a thief.

logan has a talent for violence, but also can lie like he breathes and put on shows to convince the best of them.

really i guess they all just have a little grifter in them.

if I had to had to had to give them all definitive leverage archetypes, though, it would be veronica: mastermind, logan: hitter, Weevil: thief, wallace: grifter, and of course, mac: hacker.

veronica is the mastermind because she knows all of them best, knows what they can do; because she’s capable of putting all the moving pieces together into one perfect plan; but also because she’s a control freak with maaaajior trust issues. there’s no way she could ever let anyone else be in charge.

logan is the hitter because he’s just got that underlying current of violence about him at all times, but also because my absolute favortie scenes of his are when he’s being protective of veronica. not that end of season three bullshit, mind you, but like the scene in season one when he rescues her from the federal agent, or the scene in season two when he bluffs his way into and out of the irish mob’s territory with an unloaded gun to save veronica. make him the hitter and we get breathtaking violence from him, sure. but we also get to see logan at his best: giving a damn about the well-being of others.

weevil is the thief because this guy is smooth. he pulled the heist at the carnival brilliantly in s2; and he stole that pen from the Kane household in s1 successfully even though the police arrested him and catalogued everything on his person, including the pen. it’s a bit of a square peg in a round hole, but I feel like he;d have comfortable knowledge of security systems and guard rotations and police jurisdictions.

wallace is the grifter because i’ve noticed that a lot of the times he asks veronica for advice on how to do stuff, its grift-related. “how do I seduce the fake head cheerleader?” for example. and he pulls some short term grifts for her, like when he infiltrates the silicon mafia at SD State. also he’s got the best innate knowledge of who people are and what they’re like. yeah, veronica can pull people apart, but Wallace is just good with them in a way she isn’t. and also he’s got the most emotional maturity out of any of these basket cases.

mac is the hacker because she’s god’s gift to computers, duh.

what I really want, though; what any good leverage AU is an excuse to do, is to make a found family out of these losers. imagine if these five people all...trusted and loved each other, in addition to liking one another?? i’m drooling just thinking about it.

I also think that, ironically enough, being righteous criminals in constant close contact would work wonders for veronica and logan’s relationship, lbr. if veronica is mastermind-ing their cons, she doesn’t have to wonder what logan—or any of her other friends, for that matter—are doing, and go a little crazy to find out. it’s an outlet for her control-freak-trust-issues.

aaaand if logan is their hitter/muscle, it’s literally his job to protect everyone, including veronica. violently, if necessary.

plus, they can both work out their paranoia on things that aren’t each other—cause it’s not paranoia if they’re really out to get you.

the best episodes always involved Veronica pulling her friends into cons with her; VM the show is already only a hop-skip-and-a-jump away from leverage, anyway! solving mysteries, sure, but also getting revenge, retrieving items, getting even...providing leverage.

like, seriously.

Veronica and Wallace effortlessly pulling a grift out of their asses when they’re caught in a sticky situation, using that emotional drift comparability in their brOTP.

Mac, getting the respect and cash she deserves for finding information and recovering hard drives and also, giving her righteous side some room to move.

Logan and Weevil sniping at each other, maybe having not-so-faux fights as distractions or part of a con— but having each other’s backs. playing partners in macho stoicism even though we all know they’re softies sometimes.

Wallace and Mac, standing to the side as exasperated captains of the maturity and stability team while Logan and Veronica share a dumpster fire.

Veronica and Weevil doing that thing, you know, where they’re kind of flirting and kind of pulling one over on their audience and pulling each other out of messes.

Wallace, prince among men, getting to play the handsome and charming credit to his gender he is. imagine, if you will, him pulling honey-trap cons on marks like sophie deveraux did. i am and it’s delightful.

the worst part about canon!VM is how much they all (veronica. largely veronica) tore one another down; betrayed people; didn’t trust them; hurt them; expected the worst and got it in self-fulfilling bullshit. imagine if all of that went away and then write it for me pleeeaaaseee

i’ve been brainstorming and like, there’s two paths you could go. one is a complete graft to the leverage fusion, in which they never actually went to high school together but instead are professional criminals who all grew into their own on their own and came together. in this path, we’d come in on our anti-heroes already in the thick of it—or at least, having deep histories together that allow them to trust one another right away.

the other is like, veronica falls to the “dark side” in high school and drags them all with her, handing out black hats as she goes. perhaps in a world where Aaron Echolls gets acquitted and Duncan Kane does not have an assassin at the ready to avenge his sister outside the law, where Veronica literally can’t sleep at the thought of him out there. a world where Logan and Weevil have that same insomnia, and Mac and Wallace care about Veronica enough to help.

and maybe it starts out as just a way to get new evidence so a judge can declare a retrial and get Aaron convicted; but ohhh, Aaron Echolls is not a man who can leave well enough alone. He’s a rich, powerful, attention seeking mother fucker who likes to taunt logan and veronica about what he did to lily. so even though it’s not Duncan paying for him to get assassinated, the end result is the same: Aaron dead as a doornail, like he deserves.

Maybe it’s a fake suicide, like Veronica planned out for her criminology course, the literal perfect crime. Maybe he gets murdered and dumped on Lamb’s doorstep with an audio recording of him confessing—edited by Mac, of course, to make sure Veronica and Logan’s parts in the charade weren’t included.

also i’d like to think that, in this world where they wear black hats to better play white knights, Veronica and Logan have just...the best-worst reputation. Yeah, they melt around each other, but ho-ly shit they’re still lethal—especially if you put one in danger. Maybe Logan’s got a reputation as an attack dog, and maybe Veronica’s got a reputation as holding his leash, and maybe they’ve proven they’re willing to do anything to keep each other safe. Maybe, they made a deal, a long time ago when they started out: Veronica gets to get into anything she wants, whatever crusade is currently pushing her buttons, as long as she brings Logan along to protect her.

their story is epic, after all.

anyway! In Conclusion, tl;dr, someone please stop me from having veronica mars feelings, and if leverage could please stop being the best found family ever, that would probably help.

#leverage au #veronica mars #logan echolls #eli navarro #cindy mackenzie #wallace fennel #fic idea #life of crime #criminal au #found family

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orangeoctopi7 · 5 years ago

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A Little Scare

@forduary week 2 is trust/paranoia, so here’s a little feral!Ford fic.

***

“Grunkle Stan, you promised you’d take us to the grocery store!” Mabel complained.

“Yeah, well that was before I broke my toe tripping over your hot glue gun.”

Stan was sitting in his recliner, both feet up, while Ford applied some sort of special cream to the swollen, blackened toe in question. The kids stood between him and the TV, determined not to let their Grunkle just relax and watch TV until they got what they wanted.

“But I still have another dozen cookies to make for tonight’s human-gnome relations seminar, and we’re all out of eggs and milk!”

“And I’m out of ball-point pens!” Dipper added.

“Look, kids, Ford says I gotta stay off my foot for the next 24 hours if his incredible cure-all is gonna work. Otherwise I’m gonna be in a boot for the rest of the month, and nobody wants that. Why can’t you just ask Soos to take you once tours are done for the day?”

“Because he doesn’t finish until six, and the seminar starts at 6:30!”

“You know, Stan, I could take them.” Ford offered.

Stan gave his brother a skeptical glance. “You sure about that, Poindexter? Remember what happened last time?”

Ford rolled his eyes. “That was last fall! I’ve made a lot of progress keeping my cool in social situations.”

“Yeah, in open-air markets, not a cramped little grocery store.”

“You know what? I’m going to take them, just to prove to you that I can!” Ford huffed.

“Alright, fine. ‘Snot like I can stop you. But take Soos’s truck. There’s no way I’m lettin’ you drive my car.”

“Fine.”

“Yay!” The kids cheered, following Ford into the hall.

Stan caught hold of Dipper’s vest as the boy passed.

“Hey, kid, do me a favor? Just stick close to Ford while you’re at the store, alright?”

Dipper nodded. “Sure thing, Grunkle Stan.”

***

“I don’t see why Stanley is so insistent that I can’t drive his car.” Ford complained as he pulled into the parking lot. “I got us here without incident.”

“Well, you did end up on the curb a handful of times.” Mabel pointed out.

“And narrowly avoided a collision with a car parked on the side of the road.”

“Avoided being the operative word.” Ford insisted. “And don’t try and tell me Stan’s any better.”

“True.” the kids agreed.

The grocery store wasn’t terribly busy, but Gravity Falls wasn’t a big town, so that was to be expected. As soon as they entered, Mabel led them into the dairy section to get her eggs and milk. They were both located in the back corner of the store. Stanford found himself tensing as he walked down a cold aisle filled with different kinds of cheese, butter, cream, milk, and eggs. He couldn’t see the other people in there with them, couldn’t see what they were doing, couldn’t see the exit--

It’s fine. He told himself. It’s just a grocery store. People are just here to get food.

“Welp, I gotta go get some girl stuff.” Mabel declared once she’d loaded her carton of eggs into the grocery cart. “See you guys at the checkout!” She sauntered off to the other end of the store, quickly lost from Ford’s sight among all the displays of soda cans and snack cakes.

“She’ll be ok.” Dipper assured his uncle, slipping his tiny hand into the scientist’s larger one. Ford immediately blushed. Was his discomfort that obvious?

Dipper led Ford to the office supplies, where they grabbed a packet of nice blue ink pens. It really wasn’t that bad, he kept telling himself. Sure, he was tense, he was on high-alert, even higher because Mabel had wandered off on her own, but he could handle it. It would be fine.

It would have been fine, if not for the spill.

They were passing through the frozen aisle when someone behind them pulled out a big bag of frozen peas. Unfortunately, the bag had frozen together with its neighbor, and when one was pulled out, it tried to take the second bag with it, leading to a rip. Two bags full of frozen peas spilled onto the floor, making a cacophony of pinging, tinkling sounds. Tiny ice crystals flew up in the air as the peas shattered. Ford’s hairs stood on end as the cold flecks showered them. As the rapid-fire shattering assaulted his ears.

Suddenly, Ford wasn’t in the grocery store. He was in the ice fields of Raretania 2, with a pack of cryokinetic creatures on his tail. Icicles grew on them like spines, and when they wanted to take down a meal, they could shoot the ice shards like a porcupine on steroids.

The old researcher scooped up his nephew and began frantically searching for a place to hide. Outrunning these things wasn't an option, when they could shoot their icicles with such speed and accuracy. These aisles were barren of any real cover. All they did was hide whatever was on the other side. However, Ford did notice a few feet of space between the top of the freezers and the ceiling. That could work.

He more-or-less threw Dipper up onto the freezers before scaling them himself. A quick survey of the area showed they had lost their pursuers for now. But someone was still in immediate danger.

"Where's your sister!?" Ford hissed quietly to Dipper, who was still sputtering after being thrown up here like a pile of dirty laundry.

"Wh-- probably the cosmetics aisle, I dunno! What's--"

"We need to get to her before they do."

"They who?"

"I don't know if they have an actual name on the planet they're from. I always just called them Iciquills. Suffice to say, they're extremely dangerous, so we need to find Mabel and warn her. Now come on, we can probably jump to the next shelf from here."

Rather than be concerned, Dipper just latched onto his uncle's leg, stopping him from leaping. "Great Uncle Ford, no! You'll just hurt yourself! Or at the very least make a huge mess!"

"That hardly matters in this situation! We need to find Mabel without drawing their attention."

"Mabel's not in danger! We're not in danger! Stop and think! Why would Iciquills be here, at the grocery store? How would Iciquills be at the grocery store?"

Every cell in Ford's body was screaming at him to act before it was too late. But he knew if there was any real danger, Dipper wouldn't just brush it off like this. And when he stopped to think about it, no, it didn't make any logical sense.

"But… but I heard it! The sound of their quills just missing a target! I felt the breaking ice on the backs of my legs!"

"Oh. I guess that was pretty scary, when you put it like that." Dipper grimaced. "But I promise, it was just an accident! Someone dropped their peas. Look!" The boy pointed to the back of his uncle's pant legs. Tiny flecks of thawing peas stuck there.

Ford's heart sank, and his face burned red with embarrassment. He'd come here to prove Stanley wrong, and instead did just the opposite. Now he wanted to hide up here for completely different reasons.

"The longer we stay up here, the more embarrassing it's gonna get." Dipper suggested.

Ford nodded mutely, and swung his legs over the top of the freezer, dropping the last few feet with a light "oof" before helping Dipper down. Luckily, the only person who'd seen the whole debacle was the guy who'd dropped the peas in the first place: Wendy's tall friend, Lee. He seemed to know better than to make a scene, and just waved meekly.

"Dude, I'm so sorry."

"No, no, I'm sorry." Ford reflected.

"Come on, let's see if Mabel's done." Dipper suggested.

They found her in the cosmetics aisle, like Dipper had expected, comparing two brands of lip-balm. She noticed their soured moods almost immediately.

"Is something wrong? What happened?"

"I'll tell you in the car." Dipper assured her. "Let's just buy our stuff and go."

After rushing through the checkout line, they piled back into Soos's truck and headed home. Dipper filled Mabel in on Ford's scare. To the old man's credit, he did his best to laugh it off now that it had passed.

"I'd appreciate it if you two didn't mention that to Stan."

Mabel and Dipper shared a wicked glance. "Well, it's gonna take a lot of chocolate to make us forget that." The colorful girl said.

#Gravity Falls #Fanfiction #Forduary 2020 #Stanford Pines #My writing

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an-aura-about-you · 5 years ago

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Sealed With A Kiss

Hey, when inspiration strikes, you gotta write.

“Will you pretend to be my boyfriend?”

Autor looks askance across the table at Erina. It’s probably the best reaction she could have asked for, honestly.

“Why?” Autor asks.

Erina puts her hands along her nose, fingers at the bridge. “Because if I have to hear Mr. Felidae ask me one more goddamn time if me and Fakir are gonna get married, I’m gonna scream.”

His face scrunches a bit. “That’s pretty inappropriate to ask.”

She slips her hands together so the palms meet and pleads, “C’mon, won’t you pretend to be my boyfriend to get him and like the half of Goldkrone that’s trying to pair me up with Fakir off my back?”

He’s got one why covered now, but Erina’s response hadn’t answered the others implied by his asking.

“What’s Fakir said about all of this?”

She scoffs, letting her arms drop to the table. “He doesn’t care. If it’s not dancing, writing, or his duckling, he just ignores it. Good luck finding someone he looks at with even half as much affection as he does that duck.”

He considers this while sipping his tea, glad Erina didn’t take him up on the offer to make some for her and that his parents are out for the time-being. His mind wanders off to whether spilling tea or his parents hearing Erina’s request would be worse, but he reins his thoughts in.

“Why a pretend boyfriend, though? Surely you could find a real one.”

“Uggggggh, I don’t have time to put that much into a relationship.”

“And you don’t think you’re going to have to put in time with me to make things convincing?” Autor puts his tea down and crosses his arms. “Why ask me at all? Real or fake, there have to be other guys you could ask to do this.”

“Yeah, but you’re not gross around me,” she answers. “Or at least, I haven’t caught you leering at me or anything. And you got your own stuff going on like books and piano, so if people ask why we’re not all hanging on each other I can say, ‘Oh, Autor had to go study; you know how he is,�� or, ‘Autor’s practicing a new piece and needs to concentrate.’ You know, you’re a real person like that.”

It’s an odd sort of compliment, if she even meant it as one, but Autor accepts it as one anyway.

When she doesn’t put anything else forth, he sits and contemplates her case. She’s trying to make things complicated, or at least she doesn’t understand how complicated it can get. Being a verbal excuse is one thing, but it won’t be enough for the gossips in town to actually leave her alone. They’ll want evidence. Which means, if he agrees, he has to be willing to provide it. Is he willing to do that? And if not, where do they go from here?

“C’mon, please?” she asks again.

“I’m thinking about it,” he answers. “What’s in it for me?”

“I have money,” she says.

Autor scoffs this time. “Money for this?”

“I have jewelry shop money,” she clarifies.

“And I have descendant of a fairy tale author, son of a successful opera singer money,” he retorts. “You don’t want to give me money. You don’t want someone willing to take it to pretend to be your boyfriend.”

“Well then, what do you want?” she asks.

Autor loosens the fold of his arms a little. What does he want? Within Erina’s scope of granting, that is. Nothing jumps to mind, so he lets himself think once more. And once again, Erina interrupts the thoughts.

“Oh wait, I think I’ve got something!” she says. “It’s not with me, but I can get it for you to see. It’s a piece of jewelry my dad made, the AURYN.”

His eyes widen, his arms drop, and just like that her mouth pulls into a satisfied smirk.

“What?” he gets out. “He made a replica of AURYN from The Neverending Story?”

“Yep!” Erina answers, taking her turn to fold her arms. “He’s actually made a few of them, with the inscription on the back and everything. He likes working on the little details of the piece. Some of them are cheaper metal, so I can get you one without him making a fuss-” She lifts a hand up here, pointer finger up. “-if you’re willing to pretend to be my boyfriend.”

Just like everything that came before, this new offer deserves Autor’s thought as well. But any arguments he might have had against it are crumbling. In a flash he’s back in the shoes of Bastian Balthazar Bux, shoes he’s walked in at least a dozen times if not more, and he’s being offered the Gem, the Glory, by the Childlike Empress herself. Come to think of it, her brown eyes do have a touch of gold in the light. Is that why her father likes making replicas of AURYN or does he just appreciate a good book, too? But besides that, he understands enough to know that he doesn’t want or need the actual AURYN, not when his family is born with the ability to do what they wish without the same dreadful consequences.

Autor takes a deep breath and goes, “Fine. Okay. You win, Golden-Eyed Commander of Wishes.“

“Yes!” Erina calls, pulling her arms in and balling her hands up in success.

“But,” he cuts in. “If we’re going to do this, we need to set up the rules of our charade.”

“Rules?” she asks, carrying that familiar tone of What Am I Getting Myself Into? that Autor’s heard so often.

“Like how far we’re going to carry the act,” he says, matter of fact. “Obviously the whole point of a pretend boyfriend is to be performative, but how far does the performance go? Where does it end? Clearly, I’ll need to know so I don’t make a mistake later.”

“Now look, if I thought things were gonna get this complicated, it’d probably be easier to get an actual boyfriend.”

Autor shrugs. “I guess there’s nothing stopping you from doing that, but it’d lead to a boundaries talk, too.”

Erina leans her hand on her cheek. “You just like writing rules up, don’t you? I get the feeling you’d do the same thing if I asked you to be my boyfriend for real.”

He gets out of his seat to fetch a pen and paper. “Come on, you want this to be convincing, right? If it’s not, half of Goldkrone is going to keep trying to play matchmaker between you and Fakir. They might anyway if they think I’m not a good boyfriend.”

“Fine,” she agrees, drumming her fingers against her.

And with that, the negotiations begin. The two manage to set the rules of secrecy and schedule a regular public date night, the framework of their relationship easy enough to build. But as with most negotiations, the details need the most work.

“Okay, what am I permitted to call you with regards to terms of endearment?” Autor asks, scratching the outline of a new section.

“Really? That seems like something we’d figure out in time.”

“Maybe if we were an actual couple, but if there’s anything that I absolutely can’t call you, it’s better if I know now.” He taps the pen at his chin. “For example, if I end up calling you kitten and you leave in a huff, people who thought we were dating might think you’ve ended it.”

Erina sticks her tongue out when he says kitten. “Okay, I see your point. Definitely not kitten. How about you just run through some and we’ll see what I do?”

“All right. Honey?”

She scrunches her nose a bit, pulling her lip up almost in a snarl.

“Liebling?”

She tips her head from side to side, shaking the word about to see if it fits. It doesn’t.

“Pet?”

“Ew, no!”

“I should probably just steer clear of animals and words relating to them entirely,” he says, making note of that. “Do you have any nicknames?”

“Not really?” she tells him with a shrug. “Most people just call me Erina.”

“I could go with The Neverending Story again. How about Moonchild?”

“Except for that.” She even holds a hand up. “Please don’t call me that.”

“Why not?”

“Because sometimes my dad calls me Moonchild. It’d be weird for a boyfriend to call me that, real or fake.”

“That’s fair,” he agrees. Maybe he’s right about his guess on Erina’s father thinking of Erina like the Childlike Empress. “And Golden-Eyed Commander of Wishes is a bit lengthy for a pet name. Maybe once in a while if you want me to be particularly mushy, but not all the time.” He writes it down separate from the other names he’s gone through, listing it out as an extreme cases nickname. “With your name being so short, it’s not like there’s much to shorten it to in the first place. Erin? Rin? Rina?”

Erina’s eyes widen a bit at the last one. “Wait, Rina is cute.”

“Oh?” He writes it down and jots, “maybe?” beside it.

“Yeah. How come no one’s ever called me that until now?” She waves her hand to permit it. “You can call me that all you want.”

He scratches out, “maybe?” and puts down, “Definitely,” in its place.

“So what do I get to call you?” she asks, propping her elbows on the table and setting her chin in her hands. “Do you have any nicknames?”

“Not really,” Autor admits. “Guess there’s not much point when my name’s only two syllables.”

“I could call you Tory.”

He hums, his pen to his mouth. “It’s not bad. We could try it if you like, but I don’t know if I’d answer to it.”

Erina hums in return. “That’s a good point. What about honey?”

He shrugs.

“Sweetheart?”

He shakes his head, not in dismissal but as though shaking his hair out. “That just seems wrong.”

“Dear?”

“Maybe, though it doesn’t feel terribly personal.”

“Well, how personal do we wanna get? That can turn into a slippery slope.”

“That’s fair.” He makes a note on the page. “Look, I’m probably not going to get offended by anything you call me, so why don’t we just leave that alone for now? We have other matters to discuss, anyway.”

“Like...?” she prompts.

“Like where I’m permitted to kiss you.”

Erina lifts her head away from her hands. “Excuse me?!”

Autor rolls his eyes. “I mean for chaste public displays of affections. Honestly, if you don’t care about it looking real, what’s the point of having a pretend boyfriend?” He takes down another note. “I was considering lips, cheeks, and hands.”

She sighs, partly in frustration and partly in relief. “Okay, yeah, that makes sense. Or at least, lips and cheeks do. Why hands, though?”

“Like this,” he says, holding his hand out to her.

Slowly, Erina puts her hand in his, and he brings it up to leave a brief kiss on the back.

“Oh...” she says in understanding. Or perhaps something else. “Yeah, yeah that’s fine.”

He takes his hand back, letting it slip out from under hers. He briefly presses his lips together a moment from a strange, inexplicable spark? Why was there a spark? And he continues writing. “All right. What about holding hands and hugs?”

She takes her hand back, tapping her fingers against her lips and occasionally looking to the spot where Autor kissed her. “Holding hands is fine. Hugs will probably be better later when I’m more used to this setup.”

“Fine with me; I’m not big on hugs myself. Is there anything else I should know about as far as date topics or actions that are off limits?”

“I mean, this all sounds pretty good,” she says. “I can’t think of any specific topic that’s a definite no on a date, and I’d probably tell you then and there if something comes up, anyway. Don’t worry about, like, chivalry or whatever, though. You don’t have to hold the door open for me or pay for dinner or bring flowers or anything.”

“Okay, but what if I want to bring flowers as part of the act? If I’m going to pretend to be your boyfriend, I want to look like a good one.”

She smiles against her fingertips. “I can’t argue with that. If you want to bring flowers, then I’ll accept them, but they’re not a requirement.”

He nods and adds another note. “And your favorite flowers?”

“Orange roses.”

Autor looks up from his paper at her immediate answer. “That didn’t take you long.”

Erina shrugs. “I like roses, but I get tired of the red ones and white ones people give after a performance. So I like the ones that are different, and orange is my favorite color for them.”

“Well, that’s fair,” he agrees, taking another note. “And if you like, when you feel I’ve done my duty to earn AURYN, you can give it to me on one of our dates. I think that will really help the verisimilitude.”

She laughs at this. “Paying you for your fake boyfriend services in front of other people while they think I’m just giving my boyfriend a gift? I love it. I’ll wrap it up and everything for you.”

He scratches in a few more details and then sets his pen down. “There.” He turns the paper for her to see. “Does all of this look agreeable to you?”

She picks up the paper, squints her eyes a moment, and frowns. “Your handwriting is awful.”

“That’s just my notes. If you’d like me to write it up properly, I can. Or I can dictate it to you and you can write your own copy for...”

She looks at him when he trails off and goes, “What?”

He covers part of his face with his hand and goes, “I was going to say you could write your own copy for your records. Why in the world would you want a record of this?”

She snorts and laughs again. “Good point. Well, if it’s everything that we just talked about, then it’s fine with me.”

“That’s settled, then,” Autor says, getting to his feet and holding his hand out to her.

“Hm?” she hums in curiosity.

“Well?” he says. “We’re making a deal. Shouldn’t we shake on it?”

Erina stands as well. “Shake on it? That seems awfully impersonal for my ‘boyfriend’ to suggest. If we’re gonna have to get used to kissing each other anyway, why not seal it with a kiss?”

Autor’s eyes widen as his arm drops to his side. “I wasn’t exactly planning on kissing anyone today.”

“You already did,” she says, showing him the back of her hand. And with that same hand, she reaches to him and tugs him closer by the collar of his shirt. She stares him down, pointedly not saying anything about the tiny gasp he made.

He pulls her hand away from his collar but doesn’t move back. “Fine. But we go in together.”

“Fine,” she agrees.

And with that, they both lean in towards each other and briefly meet their lips together in a chaste press of a kiss.

Autor slowly pulls away, telling himself the new spark he feels on his mouth is not that but a sting. He has just agreed to lie, might as well start by insisting in his mind that this is a good idea.

“So, shall I pick you up at the time of the appointment?” he makes himself ask.

Erina smiles and answers, “It’s a date.”

#Princess Tutu: I might need my notes for this...#yep. you guessed it #it's a fake dating setup #with my favorites #I mean if you guys didn't see this coming I don't know what to tell you #I have no idea if this is set in any of my established postcanon stuff or not

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trans-shuichisaihara · 6 years ago

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pregame!Kaito goes for his interview. There’s more than was shown on the tape.

warnings for mentions of abuse, homophobia, and depression/caregiver fatigue

[Read on AO3]

Kaito's breath came out in short, heavy huffs, heart pounding as if he'd just run a marathon. Across from him, the head interviewer's only response was to quirk an eyebrow.

"That was quite the passionate display. But you can stop lying now."

Panic flickered in his chest, and Kaito's immediate response was to double down. "Wha--No! I meant what I said!"

She was unfazed. "Now now, don't get so defensive. I understand, you're just saying what you think we want to hear. You must really want to participate in the next season of Danganronpa, huh?" She gave him a warm smile, no trace of mockery in the curl of her lips. "So that's why I want to hear your real reason. I want to find real fans, not just those who are looking to feed their bloodlust."

She leaned forward, chin on her palms. "So, tell me about your life. What drew you to Danganronpa?"

Kaito hesitated. A torrent of conflicted emotions rushed through his body, filling every crevice with the desire to run away. He didn't have to answer. He could leave, return to his daily life as if he'd never even applied in the first place.

... The idea seized his heart with the icy grip of despair.

He averted his eyes and swallowed. It took another few minutes to get any words out, but she was patient, saying nothing as the room was consumed in an awkward silence.

"Have you ever regretted meeting someone?"

She didn't answer his question, and that was probably for the best--it was rhetorical anyway. He continued. "Dad worked in one of those office jobs where he regularly put in twelve hour days. He'd come home and take his stress out on everything in our two-bedroom apartment. At first, it was just the furniture, but then... Well, it escalated.

"Apparently he caught Mom with another man one day. He came home in a rage, breaking anything she owned or used regularly. Wasn't much, since she'd given up on replacing stuff he broke in earlier fits." He paused, taking a deep breath to prepare himself. "When he ran out of stuff, he turned on me. It... It was the first time he'd beaten me. Probably 'cause Mom was always protecting me."

He clenched his fists. "... She never came back. Last I heard, she filed for divorce then married the other guy. Never came to rescue me--guess it was too much trouble." It still hurt, and talking about it was like sticking his hand into a pile of smoldering ashes.

"Managed to live with him for a few years. Middle school was hell though. I spent as much time out of the house as I could to stay out of his way--of course, without being out so long that he got mad about that too. Studied a lot, got into a good high school. Thought the business school I chose would make him happy." He shook his head. "Always seemed like nothing would make him happy though."

As he poured his heart out into the open, she nodded along. He was glad that despite her having a notepad in front of her, she didn't write anything about what he was saying.

He pushed onward. "Got curious in high school. About... About other guys. You know?" He sighed, scratching the back of his head. "I, uh, looked up some stuff on the internet, and didn't clear my search history. Never been that good with computers, didn't even think about it.

"So he found out, and reacted by beating the shit outta me. As if that would fix whatever was wrong with my head or something. He ended up breaking my nose." He paused, tracing the crooked cartilage. "I was cowering on the floor--hoping he would stop kicking me, blood dripping everywhere--and I just... had this sudden realization that I was done."

He inhaled, then slowly exhaled. "I left that night and never went back. Should've done that long before, but... He was my dad, you know? I knew he just had a lot goin' on. It's still hard to blame him, even though I know it wasn't right."

At some point, a bottle of water was placed in front of him. He finally took it into his hand, cracking the lid off with a sharp twist and downing a third of it. He still had more to say, so his throat was thankful for the cool, refreshing sensation it brought.

Honestly, he hadn't expected to spend so much time talking about his dad. Perhaps it was because he never really had the opportunity to get all those emotions out properly.

"Anyway, so I ended up taking myself to the hospital after throwing some essentials in a bag. I was sittin' in the waiting room, plugging my nose with a tissue, and that's... That's when I met him. Ouma Kokichi."

If he hadn't started to zone out, lost in his memories, he might've noticed how her hand twitched towards her pen--ultimately, she didn't pick it up, but her eyes shone with interest as the conversation shifted.

"He was havin' this panic attack or something, and so I started talkin' to him to help him calm down while we waited. And, well, I thought he was kinda cute, so... When we both got released at the same time too, it kinda felt like fate, you know? One thing led to another, and we decided to rent this crappy one-bedroom apartment together."

He sighed. "I dunno, things just got so intense so fast. Like don't get me wrong, I care about him a lot, like, a lot a lot. But... It's hard. I ended up dropping out of school so that I could work and pay for our apartment."

"What about him?" she asked, her first question finally breaking the flow of his monologue.

Kaito frowned. "He... He can't really go outside all that much. It stresses him out, so he stays inside unless he really has to leave. But he's doing some online school stuff, so..."

She hummed. "Sounds unfair. You have to do all the heavy lifting while he gets to complete his coursework at his leisure. Say, how many hours are you working?"

"Uhh..." He hadn't quite thought about it. "I have a few different part time jobs. They don't really like hiring high school aged teens full time. Labor laws and all that. But... it's probably more than 40 hours a week, if I had to guess."

She nodded. "So after the stress started to build up, you turned to escapism?"

The accuracy of her statement nerved him out. "... I guess you could put it like that. There was a used copy of that spin-off game, uh, Ultra Despair Girls. Never really played Danganronpa, but the back said something about destroying those weird bears, Monokumas or whatever, and... It was kinda appealing, for the action aspect." He scratched the back of his neck. "Didn't expect it to be so... relatable. Ended up bawling like a baby on my couch at four in the morning because of that first boss battle.

"So, uh, I decided to give the series a chance. Haven't seen a lot, just the games really. Watching other people play them is free, after all. Usually just listened while I worked--that was really the only time I could find for it." He couldn't watch it at home, after all; Kokichi hated anything to do with Danganronpa, and the thought of being told off for consuming it made Kaito's heart feel like it was going to rip itself in two.

"It was like... Even though I wasn't personally playing it, I could tell why it was so popular. It really does bring hope to people, makes 'em see that even they can make a difference. Got me thinking the same thing after a while."

He gave her a wry smile. "But I guess you've sorta guess that it didn't work out like I wanted it to." She didn't respond, but that was fine. "I thought if I worked hard enough, maybe I could help Kokichi. I tried to ease all his worries and take care of him so he could focus on getting better. But..."

He shook his head. "It just... never happened. Again, nothing I did was good enough. I just... I just wanna be able to help people, to be good enough for once in my life. So when I saw that you guys did these live action DR games, well... I just started thinking about how nice it would be if I was able to fix everything like one of those protags in the games. Befriend others, watch them grow in a positive way instead of staying stagnant... Sounded a whole lot better than the daily grind."

He let out a shallow laugh. "Horrible, isn't it? Running away from my responsibilities for such a selfish reason. It'll break my grandma's heart if I end up dying, after all. But..." He trailed off, biting back the truth that death sounded better than returning to his fatigued life just outside the room.

She once again hummed, and finally moved to pick up her pen. She clicked it, but didn't write anything when she brought it to the paper. "So, what you would want is to help others achieve their true potential? To make them feel like they can do anything? A cool, mentor type... Hm... I could definitely see a place for you."

Despite himself, when she wrote HERO on the paper, his heart swelled with genuine hope.

#kaito momota #tsumugi shirogane #drv3 #kokichi ouma #oumota #(sorta)#fanfic #my post #depression tw #homophobia tw #abuse tw #drv3 spoilers #vr au

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elisabethrosewrites · 6 years ago

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The Cafe Test

Tagged by the wonderful @bookenders! Promise I didn’t forget about this I’ve just been down with the flu for like five days.

So this actually works well with my story because there is a cafe in it.

Did they get a cafe they liked? What kind of cafe do they like? What does that say about their character?

Kalum: Loves cafes, he doesn’t much like to be on his own, he loves to be around people just not interacting with them. He loves close and cozy cafe’s with overstuffed armchairs and couches, low music playing, and a huge supply of Earl Grey tea and honey. As far as what that says about his character, he doesn’t like to be alone with his thoughts because he’s anxious a lot, he’s also fond of watching people but not interacting much, probably the artist type.

Julian: He doesn’t really care about cafes unless he’s in the mood. He usually likes places that don’t feel too personal just so he can get in and out unnoticed and unharassed. However, if there is anything remotely chocolatey or sweet on display he will walk in just to “browse” their selection. He is very guilty of having a sweet-tooth. As far as what that says about his character, he also isn’t much of a people person but has a soft side? I suppose that works.

1. Where do they sit? (Near the door because there’s an exit? Near the back to hide? Where it’s shadowy? Where they’ll be seen by a waiter? Lots of table space for writing/drawing/hands? Minimal space? Would they ever sit with others? What do these things say about their character?)

Kalum: Kal likes to sit in the back or near the fireplace. These tend to be the warmest spots which make them the best to sit in for hours to people watch. He is rather like a lazy cat. There’s a seat at the back with a good table for days that he wants to spread out his work to draw. This says he is content to sit and do a single task for hours on end.

Julian: Julian likes the seat that’s closer to the door, if he even decides to stop and sit down. If he has to sit his posture usually displays is tension and he usually burns his mouth on his drink in an effort to finish it. This says that he is a very “on-the-go” character who, unlike Kal, is not content to just sit and exist.

2. What do they order? (Is it sweet? Is it focused on hydration only? Is it expensive? (Can they afford it if it is?) Is it milky and warm? Is it to wake them up? To comfort them like a hot cocoa? Does it bring back memories? Do they get a drink connected to other people in their lives?)

Kalum: Order tea, his usual cafe has a special Earl Grey Creme that has just the right amount of caffeine for him but the flavor is more of what he’s after. If it’s that tea he could drink it straight without added sugar/honey or milk. If its not that tea he ends up using more milk and honey in it. Tea of any kind brings him a sort of comfort and he is guilty of drinking more than three cups of it in one sitting.

Julian: Is very much a coffee drinker and the more espresso shots the better. He will add plenty of sugar but usually leaves out the creme. He needs it to wake him up and get his systems working in the morning. If he doesn’t get it, good luck getting a coherent thought from him for the rest of the day.

3. If they get a snack, what do they get? (See above for similar questions to ask. Another good one is: Are they allergic to anything? Are there health concerns? Do they have to worry about their digestion for any reason? Or is their stomach made of steel?)

Kalum: Kal will order a breakfast sandwich (usually sausage over bacon with no egg and extra cheese).

Julian: Julian orders cake, any cake really, the sweeter and more sickening the better.

4. How do they pay? (Are they rich? Poor? Do they count their pennies or do they throw a whole bunch of gold on the table? Or are they rich and stingy, counting their pennies because that’s how they got rich in the first place? Do they run out without paying? Do they not give a shit about the law? Are they desperate for a feed and want to pay but just can’t?)

Kalum: Kal usually pays in cash and sets aside money each month to make sure to budget himself (wish I could relate). He works a lot so rare days where he can just sit and enjoy his favorite cafe are what he allows himself to splurge on a little.

Julian: Has no money worries. He usually pays with a card-based currency and doesn’t bat an eye when his sugar addiction adds up to more than one person should be spending.

5. How do they interact with staff? (No eye contact? Lots of smiles? Friendly banter? Awkward conversation?)

Kalum: Kal usually offers the barista a friendly but shy smile. He doesn’t like for people to think he’s rude.

Julian: is usually brisk and doesn’t care what people think. He barely offers so much as a ‘hello’ let alone a smile.

I’m tagging @fanastyfinder @hannahs-creations @hammannahwrites @pens-swords-stuff @capricious-writes @i-rove-rock-n-roll

Sorry if anyone I tagged already did it :)

#writing #creative writing #writerblr #the cafe test #wip:dissociate

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grantfieldgrove · 6 years ago

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Your friends want you to fail.

It’s true.

It’s true and it sucks.

But the sooner you realize this, the better off you’ll be. You can set yourself on the course for success while leaving them behind.

That’s exactly what your friends don’t want, but you have the capability to make it happen.

I’m not trying to be negative, but I’ve learned this the hard way.

Let me back up a bit.

Ten years ago I was working a dead end job at a grocery store. I hated it. The pay was crap. The work was crap. Most of the customers were crap. But I had friends!

I was miserable. I had a temper, I was angry about everything. I was bitter that I worked this job I didn’t like when I knew I should be doing better. I was all over social media, posting about everything, even belittling people I didn’t even know by snapping pictures of them and posting them, then enjoying a laugh at their expense.

That’s bottom of the barrel, self-esteem wise.

I would fight with people who held different political beliefs than me, different opinions about religion, or even movies. I was the loud mouth Fred Flintstone type, but I always got laughs. At least some.

It didn’t take long after my son was born to realize that something wasn’t quite right with him. He was extremely delayed and obviously autistic. I blew it off and didn’t believe it, making excuses as to why he was so behind.

We had to enroll him in a special school at age 2. The bitterness grew.

One day I decided to buy an iPad. Just because.

I took it home, unboxed it, and sat on my floor to play with it. But instead of playing games, I started writing.

I literally started writing a novel out of nowhere. It was a hoot. I started carrying a little notebook around work, thinking of plot points. It was great, because when you carry a notebook and pen around while working, people assume you’re working really hard!

Before I knew it, I had a book. I didn’t know what the hell to do with it, but I had one.

I found out you can self-publish books on Amazon, so that’s exactly what I did. I gave it a once or twice over, figured out how to format it, and it was published. And wow, did it have a lot of typos. The story was good, though. Some people bought it and it actually got good reviews. Some friends even bought it, though I doubt many of them read it. But still, it felt good. So I started the second book and finished it in record time. This one was even funnier and I liked it a lot, although, once again, I skimped on the editing.

Shortly before the release of that book, I had a falling out with most of my friends. I had planned a big party in Las Vegas, everyone was going to attend, but it was just a disaster. We had a suite at the Aria, but none of my friends even stayed in the hotel. Not a problem, but they stayed way down the strip at Paris. Then got so drunk at the pool, not a single person showed up. So yeah, I was pissed. And the party wasn’t just for fun, it was a special occasion for my wife. And every one of them let me down. So that’s that. We left first thing in the morning, leaving them all in the dust.

Nothing was really the same after that.

All of this is just specific backstory that doesn’t pertain to you, but the basic elements could. The moral of the story remains the same.

Cut to ten years after I first sat down to write that novel. I now have 11 books, including the first ever murder mystery series for kids, which even, somehow, became the runner up for some award I already forgot the name of. Three of my books have been produced into audiobooks and two have advanced to the semi finals in an Amazon-sponsored fiction contest where out of 10,000, 400 advanced. I’ve gotten positive reviews from Kirkus, and a few other publications.

These are facts that I am proud of. I share these from time to time on social media, although I am still not comfortable with talking about myself.

But, now my friends don’t buy my books. Maybe one or two, not even my “Facebook friends” who were on board at the beginning. The last book published is my favorite. I’m so happy with it and proud of it. I literally tried to give away copies to people I know. I didn’t have a single taker.

I would promote the book being free on Kindle during a particular day or weekend, or whatever, and not a single person would respond to it. I tried to give away Audible audiobooks. Not a single taker.

It’s so bizarre.

Why?

I could understand if the books were garbage. There are a lot of genuinely bad books out there, especially since self publishing has gotten so popular and easy to do. But my books aren’t those books.

I started a small publishing services company, just as a side job to help people out. People who were lost like me when I first started.

My friends didn’t care.

Granted, it’s not very exciting, and with the emergence of “multi-level marketing,” starting a business isn’t that impressive, apparently. (Remind me to tell you about this amazing magical wrap thing! Kidding.)

One thing I forgot to mention earlier, is that I went without Facebook for about a year and a half. I hated it. I hated the fakeness of it. And I was bitter. Bitter that I was trying to better my life, to branch out from a dead end job and try to make something of myself, and I never got any good feedback from it.

My son is severely autistic, he’s ten now and still completely non-verbal. We don’t have a typical life. We have to adapt to whatever life throws at us, and that’s what I was trying to do. My son hated when I had to go to work. He didn’t understand why I had to leave, often in the middle of the night. So I tried to change things.

And still I got nothing. So, bye bye Facebook. Good riddance.

It was weird at first. I still had this urge to let everyone know what I was doing. Like, them knowing would someone validate me doing it. If your Facebook friends don’t know what you do, are you really even doing it?

While I’m typing this, my Facebook is back. But there is a reason. Over the summer, while I was doodling on my iPad, I had an idea. I could put these things on tshirts. I would totally wear them.

So I looked it into. I saw that the possibilities were seemingly endless. Why stop at tshirts when you can make leggings? Why stop at leggings when you can make backpacks?

It goes on like this.

So I went all in. And I mean, ALL IN!

I had quit my job at the supermarket a few months prior. I had enough money to survive for a while while I explored new paths. So I sunk everything into this little venture. I was going to make horror related clothes. The horror market is severely underused. There are, of course, some major players in the horror game, but they all had to start at the bottom, too. So I went for it. I made a website. I made an Instagram and a Facebook. And after a week of the site being up, I made a sale. And then another sale.

Turning a profit is tricky, though. I needed word of mouth. I needed friends.

So I got back on my personal Facebook page after a year and a half, and let everyone know what I had been up to while I was gone.

It landed with a thud.

Nobody cared.

In the time I was gone I had a kid’s book, and novel, and this clothing company all launch.

I got nothing.

I started booking comic cons and would post pictures.

Nothing.

I have a little booth downtown, with all my stuff displayed, where you can walk in, buy something, and help support me and my family, by buying small, staying local.

I’ve had one friend visit it.

One.

It’s been there for six months.

I posted a few pictures of horror-celebrities wearing or showing off something I created.

Nothing.

I drew posters for a few events, movie screenings, even a stage play. I posted them. The most recent one I posted got 6 likes.

I have 590 Facebook friends and 6 of them liked a poster I did for a Scream 2 screening.

I have a family member whose daughter wanted “something Michael Myers” for Christmas. I have tons of Myers stuff. Stuff I poured my heart and soul into. Stuff you can’t find anywhere else.

This person did not buy from me. She bought a generic Myers t-shirt from a major store and probably spent more than she would have with me.

Right now, through luck and hopefully hard work, my work is in the processing of being officially licensed. Which means, with a little more work and a whole lot more hustle, it could end up in stores like Hot Topic, etc.

And then what?

I don’t know. I like to daydream. And I would like someone to be proud of it, someone who doesn’t live with me.

But, there comes a time when you have to let that go. Your friends won’t be proud of you. They will belittle you. They will find something to nitpick about what you’re doing.

And it sucks.

Strangers will support you. Your friends will not.

The sooner you know this, the better. You can delete your personal Facebook, you can shrug your shoulders at all the people holding you back and making you feel bad about leaving your comfort zone and taking a risk.

There is no law that you must remain friends with the people you were once friends with. Cut em loose.

This is about you. It’s about your dreams. Your life. Not theirs.

If they don’t want to follow you on your journey or cheer you on, cut them loose. Release that anchor from around your neck and push full-speed ahead.

You’ll be amazed at what you can accomplish when you stop worrying about what so-called friends think and start realizing that no matter what you do, there will be someone who admires you and looks up to you, just as you’ve looked up to someone else when you started your self-fulfilling journey.

Be the person you would want to look up to.

You can do it.

Start today.

Two months ago I had to attend a wedding where all of these people would be, all these “friends.”

All I heard were complaints. Whoever we struck up a conversation with, complained.

Complain complain complain.

I understood what was wrong.

We didn’t complain. My wife and I, we only told positive stories.

Our complaining days are over. We’ve moved on. We seemed out the positives from our lives and choose to focus on that.

All this did was draw out more complaining from the wedding guests.

So tone deaf and these people we’ve left behind, they were complaining about students (the teachers we knew) that are very similar to our son.

Like, really?! This is our life. You go home at 3. We live with this. And we still don’t complain.

So far back these people are, I had to hear outdated and cringeworthy jokes, I had to hear casual sexual harassment, breasts referred to as fun bags, in front of the girl they were talking to, and the groom’s nieces. They still use the R word to describe anything, despite knowing my son is extreme special needs.

Once you realize that you don’t want to live in the world these people still inhabit, the sooner you can progress to where you want to be.

You’ll never be happier leaving them, and their outdated thinking, and their complaints, and everything else that makes you miserable to hear about, behind.

And you can do it.

You can do it right now!

Log out of Facebook and get to work.

Find people to look up to and follow them. Do your own thing. People will begin to follow you.

I’m not saying it will be easy. I’m just giving you a heads up of what’s to come.

You can sidestep it completely.

You just need to realize that your friends want you to fail.

Prove them wrong.

Don’t even tell them.

Start now.

Go.

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lastoneout · 6 years ago

Note

so, quick question... how did you know you had adhd? i've been relating a lot to the stuff you've been reblogging about it, and i honestly can't tell if that's coincidental or if i should look into it more... but like, i'm an adult and female so like, i hesitate to say i might have it. could i hear some of your thoughts?

Yeah of course!

So first of all, its a very common misconception that ADHD is just a thing that little boys get and then grow out of. It affects all kinds of people, and female/afab adults are hardly ever actually diagnosed because their symptoms present very differently due to societal treatment and other factors.

ADHD is divided into three types, the Inattentive Type, the Hyperactive-Impulsive Type, and Combination. Women and afab people are more likely to have the ‘inattentive type’ of ADHD, which means stuff like:

Loosing track of time

Forgetfulness

Being very easily bored

Zoning out even in the middle of something important

Having trouble following directions

Hyper-focusing on things you find interesting to the point of not doing anything else

Jump from task to task without ever finishing one

Finding it almost impossible to focus on things that you find ‘boring’

Missing important details and making seemingly obvious mistakes

Executive dysfunction(Not being able to start or complete tasks for seeming no reason even when you really want/need to)

Having a hard time organizing and keeping things clean

Just stuff that would get you pegged by others as a daydreamer or ditsy. Most people do display both kinds of symptoms, it’s just about which ones are more prevalent. So you might also do things like:

Constantly fidget with pens, clothing, basically anything you can get your hands on, bounce/jiggle your legs, or even do self-destructive fidgets like picking at your face or chewing on your nails. Essentially you constantly need to be doing something, sitting still is hard or impossible

Have extremely poor impulse control, interrupt people or finish their sentences, just do things without thinking

Have no patience, and get very annoyed or upset when things take too long

Talk a lot

Need at least two sources of stimulation, such as watching Netflix up also being on your phone, or not being able to concentrate on something like reading or chores without music in the background

I don’t know which I am, but I do display a lot more of the inattentive symptoms than the hyperactive ones, as do most adult women and afab people.

Looking back now it seems kinda obvious that I had it as a kid, I was always drawing in class or fidgeting. I found it easier to focus when there was music playing since the quiet was too distracting. I always forgot stuff even if I made a note so I would write important things all over my arms because then I couldn’t forget. I had fantastic in class participation but could never bring myself to do my homework even when I wanted to or it was easy. Coffee and other things high in caffeine would make me tired and calm instead of hyper. I would hyper-fixate on whatever book I was reading to the point of completely ignoring everything around me and would get unreasonably upset when people would interrupt me.

And while I don’t have to worry about school work anymore since I’m 23 when I started living alone I began noticing other issues I had, and the more I read about ADHD and people with it I began to suspect that I had it, since I displayed so many of the symptoms, especially the ones more common in adult women and those afab.

I noticed how coffee still didn’t really wake me up, just kinda centered everything, and found out that stimulants work differently on the brains of people with ADHD, usually having the opposite affect, and that most adults with diagnosed ADHD self-medicate with coffee. I realized that even today I had a lot of trouble focusing on stuff I found ‘boring’, and would constantly miss tiny details or completely forget to do really, really important things even though I knew they were important like pay rent or call a repairman. I would hyper-fixate on drawing or video games and not get up to eat or use the restroom for like 5-6 hours. Being bored was excruciating. I had severe executive dysfunction, and it could take me hours to just get out of bed and take a shower and eat.

I also have what is called Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, which is common in almost all people who have ADHD. Essentially, it causes you to be hyper-sensitive to any kind of rejection, to the point of a full nervous breakdown. For me, the best example is once my boss needed to talk to me because I had done something wrong, and while he was right that I had messed up, I ended up spending the next hour crying nonstop and had to go home. When people say I did something wrong or make fun of me or even just point out a small mistake I made it can ruin my mood for days and cause me to fall into depressive episodes or cry or start thinking about how worthless I am. The worst part of RSD is that most people who suffer from it develop a fear of trying anything new becuase what if they mess up. They also tend to turn into people-pleasers because if even one person around them is upset they view it as their fault and fall into that cycle. Something like that is a big red flag for ADHD.

I also read how that un-diagnosed ADHD in adult women/afab people can lead to depression and anxiety because they constantly perceive themselves as failing at simple things that other people find so easy, and end up never getting treatment because it doesn’t even occur to them that they could have ADHD.

As for how I got diagnosed, I had recently started getting help for my depression and anxiety and so I asked my doctor about it and she had me explain everything and answer questions and she eventually agreed that I did have it and gave me adderall to help. It still isn’t perfect, the meds do a lot of good but sometimes they are too much and I end up jittery and start disassociating because the balance of sugar/caffeine/stimulants can get too much especially if you have anxiety, and you may have to try different dosages and types of meds before you find the ones that really work. And meds aren’t the be-all-end-all of treatment. You still need to find ways to manage and work with your symptoms, just like with any other mental problem.

So, this got really long but essentially if you think you might have ADHD you should look into it and try talking to a doctor. For me, finding out I had it and getting help was so liberating. I almost cried because I finally knew that I wasn’t just stupid or broken or useless, I just had a disorder and there was something I could do to get better.

If you want to read more about all this you should check out ADDitude Magazine because they have tons of free articles and resources for learning about ADHD and ADD written by and for people with those disorders. and its a really good place to go for info.

I hope this helped. Sorry it got so long T_T

#adhd #adhd help #Anon #Asked And Answered

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lillaxtrigger · 6 years ago

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Faded land: Chapter 9

The blistering sun bakes down upon the wastelands from the clear blue skies as Clara climbs up a towering incline. With most of her journey having been taken on foot upon countless miles this past month, she wonders how her legs haven’t given out by now. With very little breath to spare, she wishes for something that can get her through the wastelands faster along with refreshing her supplies, like a vehicle of some sorts, hopefully something with good mileage and air conditioning. Anything would work really, no matter how daft the concept might allude. Managing to drag herself atop the steep hill, she rises from the cracked grounds to lay her sites upon the city before her.

Columbus. From her point of view she notices something odd about the buildings in the city. There weren’t really as many of them broken as she anticipated. Sure, there were the city’s fair share of destroyed establishments, but for the most part, Columbus seemed to be normal. Even a couple of the sky scrapers looked not a day old. Looking over the entirety of Columbus, her hunger pushes her towards entering the city.

She walks to town, finding the streets below her feet to be free of cracks. The roads beside her looking to be just as repaired. Even the dirt looks to be gradually be supporting grass and tree saplings as she enters. The scientist then spots something dash along the corner of her eye and approaches to investigate. Around the corner, she finds people walking along the pavement streets, not overcrowded or in disarray like the last city she visited. Boy was that a cluster fuck. No, what really catches her attention was what the people traveling along the roads were traversing with. Animals, not just any animals, mutant beasts of all shapes and sizes the people were riding as steeds. Most of them were fused chimera’s of two or more animals. Seeing this network of traveling mutants racing along the roads both astonishes and overwhelms the scientist. Remembering her recent encounter with mutated animal life, she proceeds with cation.

As Clara slowly traverses through the patched up streets, she looks overhead to witness several people hanging around the buildings via ropes and sashes being supported by mutant beasts atop the roofs, patching and repairing any damages they’ve sustained. It seems like these people are taking an active effort to fix their city rather than let it rot. Good on them. Before she could progress gazing upon the working repair committee and their valiant efforts, Clara feels her stomach rumble out in utter protest. The hunger being painful enough to make her groan aloud. One wayward repair man hears the young ladies cries of hunger from below and slides down, asking her: “What’s the matter, little lady? Ya feel sick?” “So hungry…Haven’t eaten in days...” “Oh...Well, there’s a soup kitchen right around the corner. Sure they’ll be able to serve ya some grub.” the worker tells her, pointing over towards the corner behind him. “Here, let me take ya over-”. He turns back to find the girl had seemingly vanished. Thought confused, he shrugs off the affair and climbs back up to his patch job repairs.

A bowl of beef stew steams before Clara as she sits upon one of the tables beside a couple of unfortunate souls. She lifts up a spoonful of the soup with a piece of hearty potato’s to inspect for any odd discoloration or shape. Can’t be two careful after all, not after the incident on that weird as hell farm. Hmm...Looks okay. Color a normal shade of blonde. Sharp cut, but overall natural. She takes a light sip of the meaty juices that the mixture was submerged in. Yep. This is normal ass beef stew. Tasty ass stew too. So tasty in fact, that she can’t help but take the bowl and loudly scarf the stew down her empty gullet. Such a rather unpleasant display makes the people sitting beside her scoot away, not wanting any of the scientists flying drips to land into their soup. Finishing the stew, she puts down the bowl to take in a deep breathe and blow out a hearty sigh. “Ahh. That’s the good stuff.”

She returns the bowl back to a nearby dish rack, wondering to herself: “Now, what to do about food.” Just then, a colorful poster depicting a man riding atop a mutant steed like the ones she saw outside draws her attention. Under the rider was a description pertaining to an events of sorts relating to said picture. “Come ride in the annual Columbus mutant steed race. Winners shall receive a lifetime supply of canned goods for there spoils. Sign ups is at the Magmor Ranch…Hmm...”

Somewhere in the city, Clara arrives upon a wide fenced ranch. The middle of this giant fresh cut field is fitted with a practice track, riders racing through the dirt roads upon their mutant animal steeds. Though the doubt of mutated animals being safe to touch has shortly been buried, the site of them still freaks her out quite a smidge. A small phobia she’ll have to overcome quickly if she wants to participate. Looking about, she finds a white building besides the fenced off racetrack and enters.

Within, she finds a crowd of people standing about in the lobby, mingling to one another. At the end of the hall, she finds a clipboard with a bunch of names scribbled upon a grid sheet of paper. Assuming its the sign up sheet, she takes the pen on the side and tries to sign her name, but there was a small problem. Nearly all of the positions have been filled, counting nearly 30 people. She wonders if there’s even any room left on the paper to sign. But at the very bottom, she spots a single empty slot. Good thing she got here just in time, or she might have been outta luck. Without a single moment to hesitate, she quickly signs her name within the square slot. What now, she ponders. Will she be provided with a steed of her own? What kind of freak of nature will she have to mount? Questions that begin to swell as she looks about for any kind of official help on the matter.

The scientist then spots a man over a counter filing paper work. An employee? She swiftly approaches the counter and grabs the attention of the office worker. “E-Excuse me.” she utters. The man looks over the counter and finds Clara awaiting his attention. “Hello, miss. What can I do ya for?”. “Um, I just entered in the races and was wondering if there were any animals left for me to ride?”. “Ehh...I don’t really know...One second.”. The official turns away from his client, asking out loud towards his fellow employee: “Hey, Judas! Do we have any more trainers left?”. “Not sure. Have you tried Isabel?” the fellow employee questions. “I think she’s already taken.”. “What about Rico. No one’s had him for years.” another employee mentions. “Oh yeah. Forgot about him.”. Turning back to Clara, he tells the scientist: “Kay, turns out we do have one more trainer left. Rico, the one that lives across town.”. The employee rips out a piece of paper from a wayward notebook and jots down what looked to be an address. “Here’s his address. Fair warning. Guys a huge prick. You sure you don’t wanna wait until next year?”. “Can’t. I’m a very busy girl.” as she takes the scrap of paper.

Asking for directions towards the address in question leads her down a rather old and barren part of town. Much in contrast towards the part of Columbus she entered from, the streets she walked on were crumbled and full of cracks in turn with the ill crossed roads beside her. The buildings and homes that were still standing didn’t look like they had much time left before they collapsed. Typical post apocalypse affair in all honestly. Maybe the cleanup crew hasn't gotten here yet. The few residents that lived around here led her towards where this Rico guy might be staying.

Aside from the complete abandonment of the neighborhood, she finds the address she had been searching for. Only one house on the street stood that wasn’t in shambles. And even then, it didn’t look all that presentable. Well, there really isn’t anywhere else this Rico guy could live around here, really. Has to be his place. Approaching the shack, the front door suddenly swings open. Out from the doorway stood a man with clown make up on, aiming a pistol towards Clara’s head. “Stay the hell away from my shack!” he roars. She backs away from the armed carnie, falling upon the shattered streets as she holds her hands high in the air. The scientist wondering how many times its been that she’s been on the opposite end of awaiting fire arms and came out unscathed thus far. Quite a number of lucky breaks, isn’t it? The scientist hopes that this encounter won’t be any different, but doubt creeps into her mind as the man before her seems to be leaving not the best impression. “I’m fucking sick of you riders coming over and tearing up my home! I’ve had it!”. “A-Are you Rico?” the scientist wonders. “Who hell wants to know?”. “My name is Clara. I’m wanting to enter the race.” she answers the clown. The man lowers his weapon, an astonished looked was painted alongside his clown make up. The surprise quickly turns into laughter that echoes through the broken neighborhood. The laughter ceasing, he asks: “Alright. Who the hell put you up to this? Was it Manfred? Fucking dick. No no, gotta be Oppela. That bitch always had a sick sense of humor. Maybe it was Derack. That asshole doesn’t know the meaning of the word stop.”. “No one put me up to this. The guys over that the ranch told me to come here. Saying you were the only trainer left.”. Hearing her answer, Rico groans, adding: “Of course. What else could it be?”. The clown man turns back towards the inside of his home, telling his guest to: “Come on in. Fill you in on the details.”. Watching the supposed trainer go back inside, she picks herself of the cracked concrete and cautiously follows the man in.

Coming inside, the scientist found the inside almost as decrepit as the outside. The furniture within looked old and torn up, being vaguely repaired at the least to keep from breaking down. Waving through the air was a strong musk mixed with a vaguely rotting scent. How does this guy live like this? Clara takes a seat upon the fragile sofa, hearing the wood and springs within loudly creaking. She feels like just the slightest impact could snap it in two. “So you that desperate to enter the race, are ya? You sure you don’t wanna wait til next year and try your luck with a different trainer?”. “I don’t really have much choice. Gotta get supplies and get outta town as fast as I can.”. “On the run, huh? Alright then, come on. Let me show ya your steed.”. “A-Already? You haven’t even introduce yourself or apologize for aiming your gun at my-”. “Kid, we got three days til the big grand prix. We need to speed this shit along, asap. Come on.”. “Jeez, fine.”.

The clown leads the scientist out towards the back of the withered shack, where out stood a tiny stable. Looking inside, she find the mutant steed she would be riding with in the race, a large bear spider. Its eight fuzzy legs attached to a big, but skinny body that boasted a grizzly head with slumbering six eyes. “Oh my god!” Clara exclaims. “Yep. A genuine bear spider. She’s a real beaut alright.”. Rico crouches down to the sleeping ursa arachnid and gently shakes her head. “Come on Angelo. Time to get up. We got a new rider for ya.” he gently tells the bear spider. Angelo slowly opens her six eyes, gazing upon her trainer and the person that’d be riding her. Letting out a soft groan as she rises from the dirt, her legs wobble as she tries to stand, like a newborn deer fresh into the world. Hearing the mutant ursa groan much louder, Rico pulls out a can of food as he comforts the starving beast. “Sh sh shh. I know your starving. Gimme a sec”. Using a pocket knife, the trainer cuts open the can of beans and feeds them to Angelo, to which the beast swiftly devours, her trainer holding the can as she eats. After the contents are quickly consumed, Rico drops the can and asks the bear: “You feel better?”. The bear spider gives a satisfied growl in response. “Good. Good.”. Getting back up, the clown man turns to Clara, commanding: “Okay. Snap to it.”. “Excuse me?”. “Gotta get on the beast.”. “You want me to ride that?”. “Well duh, you gotta ride it. How the hell are ya supposed enter the race if you can’t even get on the steed?”. Clara looks towards her potential steed, seeing Angelo's beady eyes staring right towards her. Slowly starting to take the approach, she reluctantly reaching her hand out towards the mutant bears head. “Come on, kid. She ain’t gonna bite.” Rico impatiently blurts out. “Gimme a second! Last encounter with a mutant animal didn’t go so well for me, okay.”. As her palm closes in towards the mutants head, Clara braces herself by tightly shutting her eyes. Her grasp fills with fuzz, she opens her eyes and finds that Rico was right. This beast is completely docile. She shifts her grip towards Angelo’s neck, feeling the fuzz trickle through her palm. This gives her the gumption to try and mount the ursa arachnid. She slowly climbs up upon Angelo’s back, seating herself on the leather saddle placed atop the beast. From her view, she towers over the trainer, the top of her head grazing the roof of the small stable. It almost make her feel, powerful, mounting such a fearsome looking monster. “Wow.”. “First time riding a steeds?” Rico guesses. “First time riding...anything. I’ve never even driven a car before, much less a mutant animal.”. “Congrats. Time to ride.”. “N-Now?”. “Yeah now. Gotta get Angelo in shape by the time the race rolls around and get you up to speed on riding a steed.”.

In the streets out in the front of the clowns home, Clara was trying to keep her balance atop the bear spider as they rode along the crumbled roads. The trainer reluctantly watches as Clara tries to forcefully turn Angelo, tugging the ropes along her mouth, but having no luck as the ursa simply shakes her about. “Come on! Just turn already!” the scientist complains, her steed groaning in refusal. The bears constant struggling eventually makes Clara fall of her back upon the cracked concrete below. “Agh! Ow! What’s the matter with this bear spider? I can’t get it to go anywhere I want it to.”. “She” is just fine, kid. It’s you that’s whats the matter.” she hears Rico say, the clown staring her down over head. “What do you mean by that.?” Clara wonders as she gets back up from the pavement. “I mean that you can’t force Angelo around like a car or a truck. Its a living creature, like you and me. You gotta respect her as one, ca-peesh!”. “Oh...Guess you have a point there. Sorry.”. “Try telling her that?” Rico demands, pointing towards the mutant steed in question. The ursa’s gaze shifting away from the two in a huff. The scientist approaches the mutant beast, putting her hand on Angelo's side and apologizing with: “Uh, s-sorry...About being too rough with you. I’m just not used to riding, well...Anything really.”. Hearing this, the steed pivots her head slightly towards her rider. “I’m promise not to be as rough when steering you around, alright?”. With that, the mutant ursa fully turns, answering with an appreciative groan.

Getting back atop the bear spider, she grabs hold of the ropes as she seats herself upon the saddle. “I didn’t realize that riding a steed would be so hard.”. Clara remarks. “Gotta build trust with her first. That way, she’ll listen to ya. Got it.”. “I think so.”. The scientist gazes forward, seeing the broken road ahead. Taking in a deep breath to calm herself, she asks the steed beneath her: “Okay girl. Let get a move on.”. On command, the ursa arachnid goes forth, slowly crawling along the cracked streets. Upon coming towards the end of the road, the scientist commands her steed to: “Now, lets turn around.” she asks, pulling the rope to the left. As instructed, Angelo turns away from the end and back towards Rico. Seeing how slow they’re going, she gently whips the rope, giving the order to: “Kay. Let’s pick up the pace.”. With slight gusto, the bear spider speeds up, its many legs scrambling at a brisk pace. Clara sees them quickly approaching Rico upon the side of the road. A little too quickly. Oh god! Too fast! They’re gonna crash into him! The scientist pulls hard on her steeds reins in an effort to break. Both rider and trainer worried about the potential accident, they yell out towards the ursa: “Stop!”. Angelo grinds to a halt, her head inches away from Rico’s clown face. All of them let out relieved sighs upon dodging such a close call. “Phuw...sorry about that. Didn’t realize how fast she could pick up speed.”. “It’s alright. Happens to all of us. I think we should maybe take this whole practice somewhere a little more open.”. “Like where?”. “Don’t know. You’re choice, I guess.”. Thinking for a second, her mind immediately goes towards an obvious choice. “I think I might know a place.”.

Guiding both her new steed and its trainer, she takes the two back to the ranch, many a riders racing through the dirt track around the establishment. “Here we are. Should get in a ton of practice riding around here. Ya know, I didn’t notice before but some of the mutants here actually look kinda cool. There’s a rabbit wolf, a rhino cheetah, lion pig, gorilla kangaroo, gecko zebra, horse crocodile, monkey frog. Rico, are all the animals around here chimera’s like this?”. Looking over towards the trainer, she finds him to frightened to respond, simply giving a horrified glare. “Uh...Rico…You okay?”. “What...the...fuck is wrong with you!?” he curses. “What?”. “Why in the ever loving piss stains did you bring us here of all place!?”. “I thought it was a good place to practice.”. The ursa arachnid lets out a frightened groan, its 8 legs gradually backpedaling away from the dirt track. “This is absolutely one of the worst places we can possibly practice! We need to book it hell outta here right this fucking second!”. “Alright, Geez. Don’t need to be so pushy.” Clara sasses as she turns the spider bear around. “We gotta hurry, before anyone notices we’re-”. “Rico?” someone wonders. “Son of a bitch.”.

Clara turns around, seeing one of the riders eye them from behind. It was a punk looking rider atop the rhino cheetah that was racing through the track a moment ago. It’s muscularly tone legs and sharp horn could decimate anything it would swiftly charge through Between its horn, the beast eyes coldly stare at the three, Angelo beginning to inch away in fear. Quite the deadly adversary. “What the hell are you doing back here?” the punk threatens. With a sigh, the clown man unenthusiastically responds with: “Hello Derake.”. “Who’s he?” The scientist wonders. “That is the Derby Champion.”. “Four years running, you mean. You wanna tell me what a jackass like you is doing back on the track?” “Not really. Just about to leave actually.” he responds, heading towards the exit. “What’s you’re hurry for?” someone laughs as they cut them off from the way out.

Angelo comes to a sudden halt as she was faced with a scaly stallion. Blocking their way out was a kooky looking woman dressed in what would normally be way too much green leather. However, the overboard attire did match the fierce crocodile horse she was mounting. A bite from its sharp set of teeth would leave anybody in a bleeding mess. “You guys just got here and party’s just getting started.”. The horse gator under her gives a deep growl, making Angelo back way. “Whoa whoa, who’s she?” Clara questions. “Oppela. Silver medal.” Rico answers. After a sinister giggle, the croc rider wonders: “And who’s this cute marshmallow you managed to sucker in?” Looking towards Clara, she asks her: “Let me guess, he bribed you, didn’t he?”. “Well actually-”. “I don’t bribe people, Oppela. What would I even bribe her with?”. “A fair point. You live in such a squalor.” somebody with a distinguished accent points out.

Turning back, they set their sites upon a well suited aristocratic man atop an ape kangaroo hybrid. The mixture of the upper body strength of a gorilla spliced with the lower of a kangaroo made for such a powerful combination and it knew this. The chimera proudly puffs its chest in dominance, standing atop its toes. “It’s a miracle you’ve managed to survive for as long as you have.”. “And he is…?” Clara tries to fish for answers. “Manfred. Stuck in 3rd place.” Rico throws out. “At least I’m ahead of the curb. You’ve barely managed to scrape your way out of last.”. “Hang on, what?” The scientist wonders, turning towards the trainer. “He didn’t tell ya toots? Old Rico here’s never managed to snag a win in his career.” the punk stated. “Always close to dead last. It’s so pathetic.” the leather woman adds. The clown man can’t help but look away, wordlessly confirming their accusations. As their laughter dies down, the aristocrat returns the question at hand, saying: “I believe there’s still a question afoot here. Young lady, why exactly did you choose Rico of all participants?”. “Uhh-”. “Yeah, come on. Fess up. What he do to ya?” the Derake wonder. “Nothing, I-”. “Then what’s the deal here?” Oppela pushes. “Um...” Clara stall, looking back towards Angelo’s trainer. She turns back towards the other riders, admitting: “He...was the only one left.”. The riders surrounding them awe in realization with Derake adding: “There it is.”

“Young miss. I suggest you quit now. Riders under Rico’s employee do not last very long.” Manfred suggests. “Can’t really quit. Gotta win the prize and split town.”. “Well then, guess we gotta make you quit then, do we.” Oppela tell her. “Excuse me.”. “You heard what she said. Either bail or we’ll make you bail.” Derack corrects. The riders surrounding threatening them inch closer, boxing them in. “See, this shit is why I didn’t wanna come here. Got any more bright ideas?”. Rico sarcastically questions. “Just one.” Clara answers. Turning towards her future attackers, she tries to distract them with the question: “Hold on a minute. Before you guys beat us like a meat processing facility on overdrive; Answer me this: The three of you obviously really good. But tell me; Who among you is the best?”. This old trick can’t possibly work. They’d have the brains of dead sea monkeys in hopes of them actually falling for it. But what other option is there? She’s got nothin left. “Ha ha. That’s a fucking easy one. It’s me.” Derake respond. “Hold on a second. That’s a load of BS, man. It’s gotta be me.” Oppela rudely retorts. “Sorry, who the hell is the derby champ again? That’d be me bitch.”. “We’ve all been champion at one point, Derake. Simply owning the title isn’t a measure of worth.” Manfred cuts in. “Alright asshole. How many times have you won?”. “Certainly more than either of you.” Manfred answers. “Really? Cause last I remembered, you’ve only won 4 times in your whole career. I on the other hand got 7 wins under my belt.” Oppelo counters, breaking the box that they were using to trap their victims. “That’s cute. I’ve been in the game longer then either of you and all that really doesn’t even come close to my 10 winning, with a 4 years winning streak bonus!” the punk boasts. As the three rivals prattled on with their horrendously clashing egos, Clara, Rico, and Angelo use the opportunity to attempt their escape, crawling their way towards the exit. “I can’t believe that old shitty trick worked.” Rico remarks. “Honestly, I’m just as surprised as you are.” Clara adds. In their ramblings, Derake glances over and notices their prey escaping, breaking the entire debacle by shouting: “Hey! The fuck do you think you’re going!?”. The others take notice, their scowls locking on them. “Shit! Bolt it!”.

Ditching the stealth approach, they rush towards the exit in hopes of making a swift escape. Oppela speeds right around them and blocks their only way out, her horse croc threatens with its sharp set of fangs. Manfred jumps towards their direction, threatening to crush them under his beasts heels. Angelo dashes out of the way of the gorillaroo’s strong kick. Feeling the earth tremble beneath their feet, they glance back and witness Derack lunging towards them. They barely escape the strong charge, feeling the raw power behind the rhino cheetahs dash as it passes. Clara looks around and sees nobody coming to their aid. The other riders and the officials simply watching as this pursuit plays out. Looking towards the exit showed a couple of them even shutting the ranch gates, trapping them withing the enclosure. What’s the matter with them? Why are they letting this happen? Why is nobody helping? Questions that race through Clara’s mind as she formulates a plan of escape from their pursuers. Finding a jumping fence coming up, Clara asks the trainer: “Suppose Angelo can’t jump right?”. “Not really, no.”. She opts to go around the brittle fence, hearing the sound of breaking wood behind them, which catches Rico’s attention.

Alarmed, the trainer pulls on Clara’s shoulder to grab her attention, warning: “Uh, kid. Rhino cheetah’s inbound.”. She looks over the trainers shoulder and finds that his warning was correct. Derack was catching up fast. Looking ahead, she nears the edge of the ranch fencing. Beyond the open fields laid the rest of the city. She could probably lose their pursuers if she manages to escape the enclosure. Swiftly, she turns away, leaving Derack to crash into the picket fence. Peeking back, she finds the blunt impact of charge to buckle the fencing. Another punch like that should be more than enough to break through.

She plans to come around again, when her turning is halted by Manfred, nearly jumping upon them. Looking up, Clara sees the aristocrat, bouncing high in the air for another stomp. “I fancy myself a good hunt.” he declares as he plummets towards them. She weaves Angelo around the track to avoid the hopping mutants. Dashing away from the gentleman bouncing assault and running through the race track.

They see Oppela and her horse croc riding up ahead, threatening to run them over. Clara looks back, seeing Manfred ready for another jump. An idea pops into her head. She faces forward, both Rico and Angelo wearing looks of concern, as if worried why their rider wasn’t slowing down. “Uh, kid. Think you might wanna hit the breaks.” he warns. “Both of you gotta trust me on this. I got an idea.”. “Does that idea involve us not ending up being chewed alive like a tasty meat stripe?”. A panicking whimper escapes from the bears maw as they drive ever closer. Oppela coming up, they see the horse croc to be exposing its sharp teeth. “Come on, little marshmallow, I wanna take a bite outta ya!” the leathery woman demands. Closer and closer both riders come, Clara waiting for the right moment as the opposing mutant readies to bite. Once they were close enough, Clara makes an immediately turns away from the gaping maw of the beast, narrowly dodging its clasping maw. Oppela turns her gaze towards Clara as she passes by, witnessing the scientist taunting her with her tongue out. “Grr, god dammit!” she curse. Manfred sees his leathery rival riding near as he plummets down towards her. Unable to stop his descent, he tries to instead warn her by shouting: “M’lady! Look out!”. But by the time Oppela notices him, it was far too late. Both their mutant steeds collide with one another, resulting in quite the inter species crash. “Yes!” Clara cheers. “Damn!” Rico astonishes.

They’re short lived celebration was halted when they hear the sound of heavy stomping behind them. Looking back, Clara sees Derack passing though his rivals, chasing them once more. “So, is part of your grand plan too?” the clown man questions. “Kind of. Just need to lure him back around.” the scientist answers. She then makes a sharp turn and dashes towards the charging mutant. “Not this shit again!” Rico shouts. This game of chicken however had far less risk, because Clara didn’t wait until the last moment to move aside. Instead she dashes away beyond the rhino cheetahs sharp horn and sets her sites upon the buckled part of the fencing. Looking back, they find Derake skidding across the grassy fields of the ranch to make a quick turn back towards his prey. Clara then stops Angelo right in front of the broken fencing, the usra’s trainer asking her: “What the hell are you doing? We gotta charging rhino cheetah coming up on our asses fast.”. “I know. Just gimme a second.” Clara stresses, turning her steed towards the right of the fence. “You really like putting me through this anxious bullshit, don’t you!?”. Both of them observe their punk pursuer approaching, quickly closing the distance. While the scientist remains a little nervous, both the trainer and the ursa arachnid are thrust into an utter shutter on the thought of being flattened like a Sunday morning breakfast pastries cover in bloody syrup. Clara’s moment was near, now was the best time for her to take action. “Now!”. She urks Angelo forward, dashing her out of the lunging beasts charge. Just as she predicted, Derack crashes through the enclosure, giving them their means of escape. Clara doesn’t waste a single moment with her exit, dashing quickly out from Magmor ranch. Dashing away as punk rider witnesses them in the midst of their escape. As Oppela and Manfred pick themselves and their steeds out of the crash, they hear their rival ordering them to: “Get up, you assholes! They’re getting away!”. Quickly, the riders mount their respective steeds and join Derack in his pursuit.

Crawling away from the ranch, they quickly find themselves racing through the streets, passing by countless other mutant driver in their escape. Rico looks back to find their three pursuers turning the corner and racing after them. He then looks down upon his beast and finds Angelo to be tiring out, her legs losing their luster. “What now, genius? Angelo here’s running outta steam and those bastards are still gunning for us.”. “You said Angelo was part spider, right?”. “Yeah. What of it?”.

Their pursuers witness them turning the corner around an apartment complex. The riders quickly follow and find their prey to have vanished, only seeing the setting sun in the distance. “The hell did they go?” Derack screeched. “They seemed to have vanished. Not a trace of them left to investigate.” Manfred concludes “You sure they pissed off down here?” Oppela asks. “I swear I saw them turn this way.”. “Perhaps your vision deceives you, Derack. Your years fleeting with your site.”. the aristocrat snarks. “What’d you say, you little piss ant?” the punk growls. “Guys got a point, mate. You did say you’ve been in the game longer than any of us. Maybe your age is finally catching up with you.”. Both rivals bombard the rhino rider with both snotty and maniacal laughter. “Shut the hell up.” Derack hollers in a huff, all three of them parting from the chase.

Unaware for any of them, their prey had been clinging high above the building right next to them. Angelo’s paws stick towards the apartment complexes brickwork like quick drying brick cement glue. Clara and Rico perched atop the beasts side to keep from falling off. “How long could he do this?” the trainer questions. “You mean you never thought once to try this?” Clara asks. “No. I always thought Angelo’s paws were too smooth to stick to anything.”. Crawling down from the wall, the scientist then asks the clown man: “Kay, now I got a question. What was that hot mess about?”. “What was what about?”. “That stuff back at the ranch. Why did everyone just stand and watch while those bastards attacked us!? On top of that, why did they attack us in the first place!?”. “What are you, new in town? This shits been a part of Columbus for over 37 years.”. “I literally just got into town today.”. “God dammit!”. The clown inhales a massive breath and exhales before explaining: “Alright, I hate explaining shit, so I’ll make this history lesson brief. Basic gist is that since gas for cars got scarce, people shifted towards riding these mutated animals. Lot less of a hassle anyway, kind of. They use them for everyday life and have help Columbus to get back on its feet into a working society. Racing them has become such a celebrated sport around here that it draws in more of a crowd than a religious holiday bonanza blowout special. As expected, winners are looked up to as heroes while losers are treated as dog shit. Which is why I’m not exactly the winner of any popularity contests around here.”.

Rico makes her get off the bear spider so that he take the reins. “Alright, see ya tomorrow.” he says just as he’s about to leave. “Wait!” Clara shouts. The clown comes to a sudden halt, peeking back towards the scientist, asking: “What is it now, kid?”. “Ehh, well. It’s kinda funny. I don’t really have anywhere to sleep, per say. I was hoping that maybe I could stay at your...” she awkwardly urges. Upon hearing this, Rico goans aloud, reluctantly offering her with: “Fine, I’ll let you crash at my place.”. “Yes!”. “But I ain’t feeding ya, got it? Barely got enough for me and Angelo here.”. With that, the trainer leaves the scientist to her own devices, who was wondering where she might stumble upon more food.

Exiting from the soup kitchen, she licks her lips as she rubs her warm stomach, mentioning: “Ahh, soup kitchen food never tasted so good.”. Coming down from her satisfaction, she begins to ponder with: “Still. I can’t keep going back and forth through town just to grab a bite. I need to refresh my supplies. But how? I don’t have any money. Do they even use money around here.” As if of sheer happenstance, a wagon full of canned goods passed by the scientist, whose eyes catches the cargo as it travels down upon the road. The scientist drops the whole money notion entirely and smiles in favor of a far more sneakier method. She really didn’t really have any cash on hand anyway, if they even used currency, that is.

The humble wagon puller stops upon the back of a small market, the rider mounting of her steed to unload her cargo. Clara peeks around the corner, waiting for the chance to swipe just one box of the canned goods. Some people take a couple of the boxes and head inside. Almost half of them are gone. Her moment passing, she sneaks forth towards the wooden wagon, careful so that no one spots her. Peeking into the back, she swipes one of the boxes and flees with her new coveted set of prizes.

She hides within a nearby alley, peeking around the corner to check if anyone followed her. Looks like the coast is clear. Clara looks upon her spoils. A single box of goods containing approximately 12 cans. Jackpot! This should be enough to last her days on end. A little bit of a heavy load, but the scientist is ecstatic from her ill gotten gains. But guilt begins to weight on her consciousness like a slab of crushing pavement. Not from the stealing, no. The shame from thievery long being numb. What truly burdened her mind was a statement left by the animal trainer in his departing words. “Barely got enough for me and Angelo here.”. Those words plant within her sympathy that begin to sprout. He is letting her stay at his place for the night. Suppose it’s only fair to share her newly appropriated goods.

Trekking back to the shack, Clara finds the inside to be relatively empty, accompanied with only the glow of the dim ceiling light illuminating the living room. She doesn’t seem to notice Rico anywhere. Maybe he’s tending to Angelo? Or maybe he went to sleep, who knows. Just in case, he hollers for the trainer to come out. “Rico? You in here? I brought home a surprise.”. Even though her words echo through the home, they fail to bait a response.

Entering the kitchen, she looks out through window towards the backyard. She finds Angelo snug within her cute little stable, but still doesn’t see any sign of her trainer. Where is he? The scientist jumps when the lights come on without warning. She quickly turns around and finds the clown once again starring her down with his loaded pistol, grabbed in only a shirt and his underpants. “Whoa, hey! It’s just me! Just, p-put the gun down!” she urges him. Complying, Rico groans out load, asking her: “So, do you normally just barge into peoples homes like this? Cause that’s the quickest way to get a bullet lodged in your brains.”. “Uh, sorry. Thought you wouldn’t mind if I just myself in. It was getting dark. “Oh really? Guess that makes things okay then, don’t it? Honestly, your lucky that I’m letting you stay here.”. “Oh, a-about that. I wanted to share something that I found, with you. Just a way of saying thanks for not making me sleep on the streets.”. She lays the box of cans atop the dining table in the middle of the kitchen. “Ta da!” she presents. Rico takes a closer look at the scientists gift, immediately assuming: “You stole this. Didn’t you?”. “What? No. No. I never do something like that. Come on, man.” she tries to deny. Although the guilt of stealing has long been numbed, getting caught was another matter in of itself. Her insincere chortling quickly diminishes as she finds her host staring at her with a disbelieving glare. Clearly, he’s not buying any of it. She drops the act with a defeated sigh, insisting on asking him: “How did you guess?”. “Probably should have took the cans out of the damn box first. That’s a dead giveaway.” the clown elaborates. “You’re not gonna rat me out?”. “Nah, long as you didn’t get caught, I don’t give a shit.”. “Wow, um...Okay, neat.”. Although she wondered why the trainer was so lenient, she counts her luck and refuses to press on. “So, uh where do I sleep exactly?”. “You can sit your ass on the couch for the night.”. “Whoo, thanks.”.

Clara gently rests herself upon the rickety sofa, careful not to break her temporary bedding. Although she’s thankful that it isn’t the cold hard ground, she struggles to feel comfortable against the itchy texture of the couch. Sitting up, she requests to her host: “You don’t got a blanket, do you?”. “This look like a five star hotel to you?”. “Not even one?”. “I only have one.”. From above, a piece of the roof crashes upon the scientist, making her look up towards the ceiling as she rubs her head. The roof has obviously seen better days, countless chips and cracks decorate the ceiling like broken glass. “God. This place is a war zone. How can you live in such squalor?”. “Don’t really have much of a choice. This is all the Colombian government will give me.”. “What?”. “Remember how I said how derby racing ties to popularity, ties into social statues too. Those closer to first are better off, while those near dead last are left to with next to nothing. Don’t even give me enough to feed me and Angelo. It’s why she’s so skinny.”. “So, the government here expects you not only to live and take care of Angelo, but to try and win with what little you’re given with?”. “Yep, even if there were only two racers, they lean more towards the first.”. “That’s…Bullshit!”. “Yep. But that’s the way it’s always been here. These people take derby racing seriously over the well being of others. Its why I always steal food whenever I can. If the they’re gonna try and screw me, I have no problem screw them back”. “Oh…”. That would explain how he knew about the stolen cans. “Well, why can’t you just, quit and get a different job?”. “Can’t. Not without risking Angelo.”. “What do you mean?”. “I don’t know what they’ll exactly do to her if I quit. Likely process her for her weird bear spider meat or something.” Rico concludes, looking towards the kitchen window. Clara join his gaze towards Angelo’s stable. “I can’t begin to fathom the guilt I’d feel over it. It’d to much for me to bear...Nn, no pun intended.”. “Well, how bout this. If I win, then I’ll split the prize with you. Nearly a lifetime supply of food should last you and Angelo a long while.”. She hears the clown give a light chuckles, snickering with: “Good luck with that. Competitions borderline deadly.” Rico sees the scientist laying down upon his broken sofa with a gloom sigh. He tries to lift her spirits by offering: “Tell you what. How bout I pick somewhere for us to practice tomorrow.”. “Like where?” she wonders, looking towards the trainer with a questioning stare.

Upon the morning, they arrive towards a wider, largely desolate part of the city. The larger fair of buildings around them remind Clara of lot of the homes on Rico’s streets, broken, withered, lack of color, could topple any minute, same business really. Only difference were the much more wider roads and crosswalks sharing the same motif that made the perfect track. A much larger course than the one over at Magmor ranch, if not as clean or up kept, but thankfully not as populated with clearly overcompensating douche bags. “Ta da...” the clown presents with little enthusiasm. “What’s with this place. Has the clean up crew not got here yet?” Clara guesses. “Not really. Can’t figure out to get ride of the bigger buildings without it turning into a safety hazard. No one ever comes here. Which makes it the perfect place for us to practice.”. “You want me to race around here?”. “Yep.”. The trainer hopes off the bear spider, patting the beasts side as he tells the rider: “Now get to it.”. Staring out towards the streets ahead, she worries about the exact integral structure of some of the buildings. “Are you sure this place is safe?”. “Kid, we can’t worry about safety when we’re on a deadline here. We got two days til the big race. Gotta get in as much practice as we can before them. Beside you won’t gotta worry about safety during the race anyway.”. “Why?”. “See, thing is, you won’t just be outrunning the competition. You’ll be fighting them back for your life.”. “What!? They’’ll be gunning to kill me!? How is that allowed!?”. “Do I really need to explain the whole derby being more important than human life thing again?”. “Well, why didn’t you warn me about it sooner!?”. “God, sorry. Figured that the whole fiasco at the race track might’ve tipped you off by now.”. Upon being given this harrowing news, Clara growls aloud, echoing through the empty block. Her frustration dying down, she gives an exhausted sigh, wondering: “Can I least get a weapon to defend myself?”. “Does it look like I have any weapons on hand?”. “What about that pocket knife you carry?”. “My can opener!? Hell no! I ain’t risking losin that!...Hang on. You’re still going for the race knowing it’ll be a bloody Mary bath house ? Why?”. “Like I said back at the track, need to refresh supplies and get back on the road asap. Figure this might just be my fastest shot.”. “That much in a hurry, huh? You late for a date with death or something? Gonna catch a moving then go out to eat before 69ing each other at the end?”. “Gee, Rico. You’re such a gentleman. It’s so heartwarming how much you care.” the scientist sarcastically remarks. “Talked long enough. Time to get in some practice.”. “Fine.”. With nothing else left to discuss, Clara sets off towards the broken roads ahead.

The long stretch of cracked concrete, she figured it was safe to test how fast her steed could crawl. “Alright girl, lets she how much horsepower you got.”. The rider whips the bear spiders reins, making the ursa speed along throught the once might urban jungle Her legs rapidly crawl through the streets, carrying both of them through the streets at a surprisingly astounding speeds. The decayed buildings around them were starting to blur in their galloping sprint. Winds blowing upon the scientist face, her hair riding along the ongoing draft. The cooling breeze felt so good, tempting her to shut her eyes as she basks in the peaceful sense that the acceleration brought. Before she could fully grasp such an amazing feeling, she notices the turn quickly approaching. She snap out of her euphoric daze and swiftly pulls the reins in an effort to prevent a potential accident. Clara manages to turn about just in the nick of time, Angelo tilting upon the sudden turn. Both of them regain their balance, the mutant ursa planting her feet firmly on the concrete. That was way too close. A second too late and both of them might have wound up becoming gruesome graffiti art with excessive amounts of red. It might be of best interest to keep herself free from distractions as much as possible when riding atop such a swift beast. A thought that crosses her mind as she continues down the ruined roads.

The block ahead of them looked far more decrepit then the rest of the neighborhood. Whole chunks of concrete road risen and fallen under the exposed dank sewer lines below. No man nor beast could practically hope to cross this horrid mess of dilapidation. She thinks about stopping, ready to pull back in the reins of her mutant steed, but something ahead catches her eye. Next to the destruction was a set of sizable buildings. In need of repair, but look stable enough. Nearing the hole down to the sewer line, she steers her arachnid towards the architect in question without halting her forward momentum. Just as she had hoped, Angelo latches onto the outer walls of the buildings, quickly crawling through their decayed surfaces. Successfully crossing over the abhorrent example of property damage, the scientist steers her steed back towards the ground and continues through the district.

The next obstacle Clara could see obstructing her path was a rather large, and toppled piece of architecture. It’s shattered and pointed rubble laid astrewn across the cracked concrete block, not a single space to squeeze through. The scientist wonder that perhaps she should brake and find a different route. But why stop now? She has Angelo climb through the broken mess of the hefty abode, the bear spider crawling along bits of rough concrete. Seemed that no matter how severely rough the rubble had become, the fuzzy arachnid could rush right through with little to no ramifications. Angelo has been proving to be full of surprises. Wonder what else she might be capable of?

Both of them loop back around towards where Rico had been awaiting. They stop right next to him, Clara mentioning: “Hey Rico, uh...So how many laps do you figure I gotta go around.”. “Laps? Oh uh! Actually, it be best if you pick different routes at random each lap. That way you be prepared for whatever random course the race is set up on.” “Random course? What do you mean?”. The trainer gives out an exhausted sigh, halfheartedly explaining to her: “Every year, the committee maps out a different route around the city. The only way racers know the where to go with is blue tape set up along the roads, informing both riders and citizens of the designated racetrack.”. “Wait, the whole city? I have ride around all of Columbus in one go!?”. “There are checkpoints that you have to stop at, but basically yes. Why do you think I want you and Angelo to get in as much practice as possible. We gotta keep the training train rolling, here. Go on, get moving!” he demands. Upon this new bit of news, she has Angelo hustle through the streets.

They burn the rest of their daylight practicing, taking little breaks every other hour. The sun setting betwixt the cracks of the distant buildings, their shadows blanketing Clara and Rico as they ride atop Angelo back home. This time, instead of the soup kitchen, Rico offers the lady dinner, the best he could muster anyway.

At the dinner table, Rico whips out his pocket knife and carves out the lid of the can. The trainer sets the can in front of his guest, presenting with a lackluster: “Bon appetit”. Looking within the can, viewing the dull noodle concoction of soup and chicken. “Chicken noodle soup?”. “Yep. Came from the box of cans you stole.”, Stabbing the top of his can, he lifts up the can of soup like a glass, declaring to her: “Welcome to socioeconomic disparity.”. Rico then downs the contents of his can like a can of beer. Probably wishes it was beer too. Clara looks down upon her lightweight dinner and thinks that a far less poisonous option for a beverage might spice up the night and soothe the nerves all at once. “You got any water?” she asks him. “Some. Why?”.

Filling two mugs with fresh clear water, the scientist deludes their drinks with the tea from her backpack. Both of them taking swigs of the homemade brew, they breathe out with a much needed relief. “Oh, man. I needed this shit. So damn good.”. “Yep. Haven’t felt like this in days to be honest.”. “I haven’t in fucking years. Where did you get this stuff?”. The scientist jumps from her seat, obviously not wanting to tell him about the less than ideal scenario she had to go through. “Uh...you know...some-somewhere.”. Rico shrugs, slouching upon the dining chair with with another sigh. “I’m going to sleep so good tonight.”. Now that both of them were far more relaxed, Clara grabs the trainers attention with: “Hey, um...Now that you’re not as...pissed, I’ve wanted to ask something that’s been bugging me.”. “Fire away.”. “What with the clown getup? Did you run away from the circus.”. “Pfft, I wish. Some assholes broke into my home one night and covered my face with permanent paint. Is why I keep a loaded gun stashed around.”. “My god. Just-Why? I-I mean, know you can’t quit, but why did you get into such a harsh job in the first place.”. She hears her trainer laugh mildly, swishing his tea around with a single hand. There’s a hint of an underline tragedy within the chortling, like a sort of self pitiable disposition. Oh god, this gonna be so depressing, isn’t it

He stops sloshing the mixture with his mug, staring down upon the reflection as he lets out a weary sigh. “I did this to my own stupid ass.”. “What do you mean?” she pries. “I got into training steeds thinking that it’d be an easy gig. Feeding, riding, cleaning, the usual. Thought it didn’t sound that hard…I was so fucking wrong. I wasn’t prepared for how demanding raising a mutant beast could be. The competition and government don’t help either.” Looking out towards his steeds outside, he continues with: “What’s worse is that I just didn’t dig my own grave, I dug Angelo’s too. Poor girl deserves better than me. Why the hell didn’t I just take the stupid store clerk job?”. The scientist could here her hosts irregular breathing, as if he was trying to keep from breaking down into tears. He composes himself long enough to drink the rest of his tea, getting up from the dining table to head down the hall. “Thanks for the tea. I’ll see you in the morning.” Rico finishes as he walks into the darkened hall. Clara can’t help but pity the guy. He really screwed himself over. Taking one last swig of her tea, she heads for bed, determined to get in all the practice she can tomorrow.

Back over at their practice course, the morning sun rises behind the horizon, brightening the twilight sky. On the road, Rico had riden Clara down towards the track, who was still very tired, leaning backwards in such a way that she’s barely able to stay on. “Alright, were here.” he grunt them. With a very audible yawn, she utters to the trainer clown: “5 more minutes, papa. I was having a nice dream about this pretty la...” the sleepy scientist mumbles. He hops off the ursa’s back, points towards the road ahead and orders her to: “Now get to it.”. “Okay, chokey, bok-bokey...” she murmurs as she rides off, Angelo exhaling a much louder yawn.

After a lap, the rider begins to awaken, shaking the sleeping daze out of her system. “Ugh...I miss coffee so much. I’d kill for a cup of joe.”. She starts to tilt back in her half wake lull, flopping herself upon the lower back of her beast. Upon impact, she hears this wet gushing sound that makes her jump back up. Now fully woken, she notices Angelo struggling to moved forward, the arachnid dragging her paws through the concrete. Clara looks back, surprised to see a thick white silk that came out from the bears backside towards an opposite building “Huuuh?”.

After bringing Rico over, he starts to inspect the string closely, twanging the silk like a banjo string. “Hmm...”. “So, you had no idea that she could do this either?” “Not really. No. Damn stuffs as strong as steel wiring though.” the trainer admits, pulling upon the string to test its strength. No matter how hard he pulled on the webbing, it would not even splinter. “Geez, no wonder you come dead last all the time.”. “Shut up and help me pull on this.”.

Grasping hold of the sticky string, all of them pull away from the opposing building with all their might. A piece of the architecture that the string had caught was pulled out from the bottom, making the entire structure crumble down. The dust settling, nothing was left of the complex but countless rubble. Angelo’s webbing was not severed from the piece that was pulled out, unfortunately. “Well shit.” Rico astonishes. Rico begins to pull the leftover string out of Angelo’s backside. Amazed by the strings durability, Clara begins to conjure all kinds of scenarios for its utility, the vast options opening up to her. “Wow. I bet I could do all kinds of crazy stuff with her webs.” she declares. “Probably. Best to mix it in with your racing practice. Ya need as much as we can get, seeing the entire town will be against you.”. The trainer takes the string out, shaking of the sticky webbing from his hands. “Oh great. Thanks for the motivation. Can’t wait to arrive at the starting line with the whole city.”. “Oh they won’t just be booing you. That’s for sure.”. “Oh what now.” Clara worries. Hearing the trainer sigh, she hears Rico start to explain: “Okay, I probably should have warned you about this from the start. That’s kinda my bad. But see, every year during the race, its very common for people to bet loads of good on racers.” “Not seeing the bad so far.”. “Thing is, those gamblers will do anything to make sure their bet wins. Setting up deadly traps, hired snipers, exploding decoys, all to thin out the competition.”. “You’re kidding, right!? How the hell is “that” legal!?”. “Technically, it’s not. But beyond the checkpoints, there ain’t enough security around to stop them.”. The scientist lets out an upset groan, realizing how much of the odds are stacked against her.

Along the makeshift course, the scientist has her steed come to a halt, pondering how far Angelo’s webbing is able to shoot out. But how to make her spit out her silk, she wonders. Thinking about how the sticky string was shot out the first time, she decides to reenact the first incident. Clara pats the spiders lower abdomen and sure enough, the silk launches out from the ursa’s backside once more. She watches the white webbing go quite a long ways, reaching nearly half a mile along the stretch of road. The tethering attaches itself to a complex upon the opposite side. Clara is about to pull the string out, but wonders if there is a much faster way to detach from the webbing. She scans through one of her steeds legs, going down towards the ursas feet. Dismounting from her beast, she gives Angelo’s paws a much closer exam. Noting the very sharp claws at the end of them, she wonders if their strong enough to cut through the silk. Angelo herself turns, as if curious what her rider might be trying to do. The ursa witnesses Clara take her claws and use them to cleanly severe the bears spiders own webbing. “Ha ha!” the rider exclaims, Angelo letting out a surprised grunt upon this discovery. It seems even the mutant beast is taking those steps towards self discovery. After that learning experience, she wonders how the newfound stick silk can be utilized. A thought popping into her head makes her snap her fingers. She climbs atop her steeds and continues down the broken roads.

Upon coming to a pair of opposing buildings that looked stable enough, Clara finds it the perfect grounds for her test. She guilds Angelo’s to climb toward the side of one of them, spitting out the ursas silk upon a sturdy part of the wall. The scientist then guilds her steed towards the opposing complex without cutting off Angelo’s tether, having the bear spider attach the other end to its wall. Crawling back, she finds the string of webbing stretching along the opposite ends of the streets. Clara pulls back on the sticky silk and finds it to be quite strongly flexible, plucking it like a readying wood ward instrument. Given the flexible durability of the webbing, it could be quickly setup for use of an on the fly trap or a makeshift slingshot. Slingshot. Hmm… The scientists decides to put a new theory into action.

Using what strength her beast could muster, Clara made Angelo pull back on their setup as far as it would go, the silk stretching quite a ways before beginning to fracture. “Alright, ready?”. The bear spiders shows clears signs of worry about where this might be going. Once the signs of splintering start to show themselves, Clara gives her beast the command: “And...now!”. Angelo reluctantly loosen her footing upon the cracked concrete, the string flinging them high into the air.

Their velocity sends them a far ways through the blocks, gliding high into the air over several low bearing architectures. It isn’t long though before they find themselves hurtling towards a towering complex. Clara knew if they didn’t find someway to stop soon, both her and her steed would find themselves to soon be recent example of the dangers of aerial shenanigans. She spots a building ready to pass through and acts fast, making Angelo shoot out a string towards the wayward abode. Attaching itself to the complex, the flexible silk begins to slow their careen. Both of them come mere inches away from the building before being flung backwards. They’re thrown back towards the attached architecture, Angelo mistakenly severing her own string in their midair tumble. That slight error makes them fly out of the building reach, instead plummeting towards the streets below.

Angelo on a panic, Clara waits for them to near the row of buildings below until she has her shoot out another string. Once close enough, she pats the beasts back side, silk shooting out towards one of the torn apartment complexes. They swing through the streets on the white tether, Clara hanging on tightly so not to fall upon the pavement. Reaching the ark of their swing, another idea pops into the scientists head. She takes her steeds claws and severs the silk, making them once again plummet towards the ground. Once more, the mutant beast launches her sticky webbing upon another piece of architect, both her and her rider swing into the air. Just like before, once reaching the ark, she makes the ursa severe her own webbing. This repeats to a point where they’re swinging through the destroyed district like a famous spider themed hero of sort, only without as much cuddly fuzz or overabundance of limbs. Beyond the distract, Rico couldn’t help but watch both of them rise and fall behind building after building, a wondrously confused gaze painted across his makeup covered face. After several swings, Angelo cuts her string as they near the ground, crawling through the streets to of shoot any leftover momentum. Once they slow to a halt, the rider is left with an adrenaline fueled excitement, while the steed is left in a panicked shake. The feeling of swinging through the streets with the wind in her hair leads her to declare aloud as she adjusts her glasses: “That...was...intense! Imagine how fast we could go using your webbing. We’d destroy the competition.”. In here excitement, she only now starts to hear the whimpers of her steed, looking down as she find it covering her eyes. “Oh...I...guess that might have a bit much for you, huh”. Her steed stirred in a fright, Clara dismounts from Angelo’s saddle and jumps in front of the bear spider. She bends down upon the crouching beasts, comforting with: “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have put you through all that at once. But you heard what Rico said, we gotta practice this for the race. So why don’t we dry up our tears and get back in there.”. But all her steed could muster as a response was a scarred whimper. Hearing this, Clara lets out a sigh and instead promises with: “Okay. How about we just take baby steps, instead. Nothing extreme like the slingshot. How does that sound?”. Angelo begins to uncover her eyes upon hearing the promise, slowly rising from her whimper. Standing once more, the scientist mounts her steed again, asking her: “Now, lets start off with that building over there.”. The ursa starts climbing up towards the complex in question, ready to give practice another go.

The last day of practice beginning to fade, Clara and Angelo swings out from behind the corner on a white tether. The ursa slashes the webbing loose to glide forward through the streets. Before they hit the ground, the arachnid spews out another string of silk towards another building and swing across the broken block. “Yeaheah!” the beast rider cheers, her beast letting out an optimistic groan. It seems that with enough practice, the ursa began to feel comfortable with the idea of swinging about through the streets. Seeing Rico on the sidelines, they land upon the ground within a swing and run out any leftover momentum, coming to a slow crawl upon reaching the trainer. “So, still think I don’t stand a chance or what?”. “Psh, you’re gonna need a hell of a lot more gumption and a little luck if you’re actually aiming to win.” Seeing her disgruntled glare, the clown then adds: “Buuut...You might just pull a miracle outta your ass yet, who knows.”. “Gee, Rico. I’m so thankful for your support. You’re my sturdy rock in the midst if this hellish storm of doubt.” she responds with mountains of deadpan sarcasm. “Don’t mention it. Now lets get going. Need a lot rest for tomorrow.”.

With Rico taking the reins, they start to head out as the sun began to set. On their way back, a passing wagon full of canned goods catches Clara’s eye. She tucks on the back of the riders shirt, grabbing his attention with: “Hey, Rico. Check that out.”. The trainer glances towards the wagon, questioning: “Yeah, whatta bout it?”. “What you say we dine as Kings tonight?”. “Ha ha. You gotta plan cooking?”.

The common wagon hauler stood atop his humble bullquana, riding through the patched roads in a relaxed galloping crawl, thought the waning twilight begins to worry him. It won’t be long til the night encroaches, and with it numerous thieves, ready to plunder his precious cargo. He’s gotta get to the store to drop off this sweet loot fast. He stops by a large alley, the opposing buildings casting the space in a black blanket of cold ominous shadows. The perfect shortcut. The rider begins his descent down the alley, finding a lot more room through then he first thought. It’d make a fantastic one way street. Maybe he could suggests as such towards city board. Halfway down, the hauler begins to relax. The light from the setting sun at the end contrasting against the darkness being quite the relieving backdrop. The man takes a comforting sigh upon it all, describing it as: “Beautiful.”. That calm suddenly snaps away when he feels something tug at his backside. Turning around, he finds one piece of his cargo being pull away through the air by a white string of sort. Oh hell no! The rider quickly backs out of the alley, determined to skewer whatever scoundrels dared swipe from his wagon. Out from the alleyway, he finds his precious large box of cans being plundered by a couple of hooligans scuttling atop a weird bear thing. There gonna get an ass full of bullquana horn when he catches up to them. Eagerly, he charges straight for the thieves, disregarding any public safety in his pursuit for justice. Justice dammit! Many a riders and passerby jump out from the bullheaded cargo haulers dash in hopes of not getting flattened. Swerving through street after street, the constant barrage of mutant beasts in the way makes it hard to see his target, but he is absolutely certain that they’ve turned the corner. Following his potential victims, he is drawn into a dead end, the twilight illuminating through the chain link fence. Although he looks hard, he can’t find his prey anywhere, the only thing of note around being the empty box the cans came in. Where the bleed piss did they go!? They couldn’t have broken through the fencing, its still in one piece. Did he misjudge his pursuit and took the wrong turn? He starts to turn about, but finds the police atop their steeds blocking his path. Oh perfect! Maybe they can help with recovering his goods.

Atop one of the building, Clara, Rico, and Angelo all watch as the reckless bullhead driver is dragged away by the authorities. Their fresh plundered spoils wrapped up nicely within Angelo’s silky white strands. “Good girl. Good girl!” the trainer praise their steed, Angelo herself letting out a happy groan upon being given well deserved scratches behind the ears. Looking down upon the alley, the scientist finds the wagon they plundered out to have been left behind, its precious cargo left for the taking. She turns over towards the clown, asking: Hey Rico. We got room for a few more boxes?”. “Oh hell yeah.”.

Night finally falls upon the city of Columbus, all of them drag their spoils back to Rico’s broken abode. Dozens of cans litter the backyard as everyone lays on the back porch after engorging themselves to their feast. Each one of them groan out. “Uhh...That was good. I haven’t eaten like that in weeks.” Clara maons out. “I haven’t in literal fucking years…Hey, kid?”. “Eh he?”. “That crazy ass tea the other tea might have made me leak personal shit that I wouldn’t have said otherwise.”. “You did almost cry.”. “Yeah...Almost. Anyway, think its fair to pry some info outta your head tonight.”. “Alright. What are you asking?”. “Why...Why the hell are you in such a hurry to get outta here? Why the hell are you wanting to enter a race you know might get you killed?”. Clara stood from her slouch, answering with hesitant: “Well to be honest...I trying to find someone?”. “Who? An old fuck buddy?”. “No. No. Nothing like that. I mean I’m trying to find him so that maybe I can fix this huge mess that we made. Last I heard of him, he got snatched up by Canadians and flown over the border. I don’t know what he might be doing with them, or worse, what they might be doing to him. Its why I gotta bolt it to Canada asap.”. The scientist hears the clown man laugh, watching him get up from his laughter filled slouch. “The hell so funny?” she objects. “You’re wanting to get through the northern border? Border patrol there is insane. You think you’re the first person to try? Those Canadians will eat you alive.”. Rico lets is laughter die down when he sees his statement have saddened the poor girl. “Um..well...Aside from the couple that do manage to sneak in, not many people make it through. You probably need a miracle to pull it off. And from what I’ve seen. You’re damn good at pulling off miracles.”. The scientist lets a soft chuckles escape her lips, returning with: “Thanks. You know, you’re not as bad as I first thought. Just some guy that took a wrong turn in his life. Hope that I can stay on the right path on mine long enough to fix this mess.”. “Eh, don’t worry. You got a good head on your shoulders. Sure you’ll do better then my stupid ass did.”. After that statement, the trainer rises from his wooden porch, stretching his arms out as he announces: “Alright. Let’s all haul our asses to bed. Got a big day ahead of us.”. Both Clara and Rico head inside, Angelo drags herself towards her stable. All of them rest up, for tomorrow will truly be quite the tussle.

#faded land #lillaxtrigger

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