#concrit welcome

[sofiadragon]

Hey fanfiction loving friend!

AO3 has the ability to turn off comments, moderate comments, restrict comments to logged in users only, or let anyone comment on your story. Most other fanfiction hosting websites do not allow comments to be turned off and in the case of some (wattpad) highly encourage comments even on individual paragraphs.

Over on reddit, someone said it is an unwritten rule of fanfiction that you should never leave a negative or critical comment on a story. This was countered most strongly by many arguments. Despite many people asserting that their stance was the one truth and that there was no debate on the topic - there was a lot of debate about what criticism even is and where the line should be for if giving concrit is alright.

So give this some thought:

If you have tea to spill, examples or an argument you want to make, please do. I have some that go both ways, but I'm going to wait for a few responses so I don't pre-empt the results. I'm not going to vote myself for a while, either, so I won't know which way the poll is leaning when I do pour my tea. I tried to cover all the flavors of debate I've seen in the many "definitive" posts I have read here and on reddit. Please reblog for a wider sample!

[lumenniveus]

The villa pic is from Paranormal stuff and the tree is made by me. Am I getting close enough to maxis match with this? I want the stuff I make to blend in with the game as much as possible so feedback would be much appreciated, especially since I prefer lined over lineless work.

I know this is a bit unusual for me to post and you are all here for cc downloads. It won't be a regular thing. Just asking for opinions.

Remember when I said no more digital oil paintings? Mayhaps I have lied.

[star-maiden-fufu]

rewatching Pearl's Double Life POV for the millionth time hit me with inspo to try and draw something, especially while im on the kick to try and practise rendering as an art style

(im open to concrit tho cos i know i'm still figuring it out and dont really have it yet)

[rowanwritestoomuch]

A Lesson on ConCrit -- how to give & recieve

Criticism is often something we all abhor, but in our artwork of writing, we need to understand how to recieve information about editting and how to give it, because we will not succeed without it.

There is no world in which writing is not a collaborative effort-- unless you never share it, in which case, this post is not for you. Keep on doing what you're doing you funky fresh individual. But for the rest of us with a praise kink, this is an ineffeible truth.

So how do we give *constructive* criticism in writing?

We remain focused on improvement.

Never give criticism to harm, never with malicious intent, never to degrade or belittle. Never. Do. This. If you did not like a work but it has skillful merit, it uses grammar properly, it has structure and themeology, it is OKAY to simply accept 'I did not like this' and move on. But if you have something useful to say, something productive for the writer, something genuinely meant in kindness and to improve, it is important to always keep in mind the 'when this, then that' method.

For example; "When [X character] confessed to his lover, it was the cutest thing I've ever seen, but then [Y character] had very little reaction, and it took me out of the scenes where their greater romance was developed. I would suggest when [Y character] is confronted with this information, perhaps we should include some more emotional beats and actions, like describing their expressions or what they think, to make sure the reader stays engaged. Thank you for posting this, I'm enjoying it!" In this bit of criticism, we have kept a constructive approach in mind. We have addressed that 'when this' happened, it made us feel good, but when we found something we thought needed improvement, 'then that' was discussed. We engaged with the artist in a way that did not degrade them but also did not demand that they take our advice, by framing our suggestions in a way that remembers inherent storytelling aspects, like emotions and actions, and we gave positive but not specific suggestions on how to improve those actions, without injecting our own bias into the artist's work.

This is the meat of constructive criticism. We do not want to put each other down. We do not want to taint another's art with our own voice. We want to focus on improvement and respect someone's vulnerability in sharing their work.

Another example; "I noticed that in this scene, I got really lost when [X & Y] were talking because you used a lot of pronouns and not very many proper nouns. In Chapter 3, you had a scene with [X, Y, Z & Q] and it was really engaging for me, I didn't mind the use of proper nouns because I was able to easily keep track of who was talking when. I think it would help both of us follow along better when the characters' names are used more. Really great work, I'm loving the banter between the two." In this example, we point out an error in the execution of the work, a literary thing such as forgotten proper nouns that pull the reader from the scene. In order to encourage the writer, we made sure to include an example of when they did well to remind them how they did well and encouraged them to improve this scene in the same manner as the previously well executed one. We remembered to let them know that we did enjoy the scene, we just got a little lost, and we collaborated with them on how it would help us, the reader, and them, the writer, follow along better. This same kind of concrit can be used for any literary skill mistake, or instead you could simply say "Would you like some help editting your work?" and collaborate with the artist even further. Grammar errors, spelling mistakes, structure issues, use of words and nouns, you can help with those things without placing any blame or anxiety on the writer, and many would love to have several hands edit their work before they do their final drafting. It is important to remember always that our engagement with an artist is a sensitive subject, and we will not gain more art from this person (content, if you will) if we continuosly demand, degrade, disgrace and disregard the feelings of the creators. Respect has to be given and recieved like a gift, and the gift in our metaphor is writing.

Things that you should not comment on; characters you just didn't like--- you can just not like something, the artist doesn't have to change it for you to enjoy, move on. Plot directions or twists that just weren't your flavor--- not every piece has to fit into your ideal of a trope. Only speak on these things when the plot is completely contrived or needs re-structuring to really hit the point it's trying to make. If you just didn't like where the story went, well, it's not for you. It doesn't mean its bad. Understand how to have a discerning eye for the difference between execution and expression. Stylistic choices that just don't hit with you, like purposefully lowercased words, the changing or reformatting of words into new ones, different dialogue types and tags--- these are things the author did on purpose. You do not tell a painter you did not like the use of orange in their sunflower painting, you just move on. That was a choice, not a mistake or a lesson that needs to be learned, and not everyone has to use words the way you do. Focus on being helpful, not being biased. Art is subjective and exists both in the eyes of the artist and the viewer, it is not supposed to be monotypical. To give criticism, one must also be able to recieve it.

It can be hard for someone to comment on our work with something that suggests we made a mis-step. We must always consider what it is that we have to glean from this new information when it strikes us anxious, instead of becoming mired in our own ego. If a reader has something to say about the improvement of your work, it is not a law, they will not abandon you if you do not heed them, and if they do, another one will most likely enjoy the place you decided to remain. Criticism is a very 'take it or leave it or do something with it'. You can hear the reader out when they say that the interactions between characters fell flat for them, but if it was your intention to display the character as apathetic, uninterested, uninvested, distracted or depressed, maybe then the reader just did not pick up what you were putting down. You could change your work because of this, or you could leave it the same and the next reader, or the many silent readers aside, will most likely feel differently. When someone has a suggestion on the changing of grammar, consider--- is it hard to read? I should probably change this, I'm *glad* they pointed it out. We sometimes write with blinders on, it is not an insult for someone to turn our head and make us look in another direction. It is not an insult for someone to suggest we need improvement, especially when they give examples as to how to help. It is not an insult to share our work and accept that not everyone will like it, and that we can take their advice both with grace and with self-respect. Listen to your readers, listen to your heart, and collaborate with the two.

And always, always remember, write because it hurts if you don't.

[jev-urisk]

🌐7 Circles: Entry

Preamble/chapter 0/intro page

(Tf do you call something like this? Help?)

🎉and its my 1st writing post!🎉

7 paragraphs, soft tw for heights. (Respectful) concrit welcome: Could you imagine the characters? Did this pique your interest? What do you think about the length?

💠 💠 💠

High above the earth and sailing down from the heavens is a ship, winding its way to the ground like a feather on the breeze. It looks much like the kind that would sail on water, albeit a rather small one, and the warm colours of its curved wooden keel gently contrast the azure and gold sails curved to fullness by the wind.

At its helm, upon a deck lit brightly by the sun overhead, four hands grasp the ship's wheel. Skin blue and bangles gold, the tall figure turns the ship, using the strength of all their limbs to move the sail against the wind current.

Their thigh-length mauve braid of hair whips about them and their eyes, entirely green from pupil to sclera, narrow against the wind. It didn't much matter where they landed, so long as it was within the un-poisoned area of the surface world, but The Kalilith people didn't have a winter on their isle in the sky and the explorer didn't much fancy finding out how well they would fare against the vast arctic region on the north end of the continent below.

The gilded sailboat creaks as it changes course and a second Kalilith comes up from the cabin below to join the first. He's taller and his four bare arms more muscular. His red eyes look to the person at the helm, his expression cross as he marches across the deck.

"By my south hand, child–The current is too strong for that!" he says, raising his voice against the gale as he speaks to his more delicate charge. "We should let the wind carry our descent, not turn against it!"

Magic vessel it may be, but the ability to ride the wind and the ability to withstand it were two different things. The male Kalilith barely reaches the wheel before a loud snap is heard and he turns to see rigging being ripped out of place.

"But our trajectory had us flying into a tundra! If we land only to die before making contact, the mission is forfeit!" The first one retorts, aristocratic accent sharp as they raise their voice. They may be the younger of the two, and they're certainly no warrior, but it was their mission nonetheless.

"Take care of the rigging.” they order, “If I can get us past the ice we'll be much better off," they catch the red gaze of their attendant who hisses in contempt before rushing to comply.

Far, far below, a citizen of chilly north Danaport squints up at the sky, gasping in disbelief as they see something fall to the earth.

💠 💠 💠

Tagging @scorpiothesaint @katenewmanwrites @officialauthorofanotherworld and @thelaughingstag bc I'm particularly excited to share with yall ✨️

[starheartedchimera]

Today's makeup inspo, the wallcreeperrrrr~~

Look at this confused mothbird and it's pretty colours :x

This is just a draft of it since I don't have anything on hand that can really match that shade of red and also my eyeliner d i e d halfway, so I'll revisit this sometime, but this pattern is weirdly compelling to me!

I also got to the end of the look only to realise their feathers are really round instead of pointy x.x

[nine-blessed-hero]

A Gift

Universe: TESIV: Oblivion CW: Mention of canon-standard violence Words: 600 Context: Written for the TES Summer Fest prompt: Golden. As it's a bit more experimental, Concit is welcome on this piece. Tagging: @tes-summer-fest, @jacqueswriteblrlibrary

"My champion!" cries the man imprisoned by fate as the doors to the great hall open. He pours a cup of ale, placing it in front of where his hero sits heavily, their shoulders bowed by the dusty road. Food is procured; only the crackle of the ever-present fire sounds as the hero devours the commons presented. "What news of the outside world?" asks the imprisoned man after his hero has supped, resting a chin on raised, clasped hands. His hero smiles, a tired curving of the lips. "Same as it ever was, I suppose. People are born, people die. The earth is tilled." The smile droops. "The threat against us grows worse." "And where have your travels taken you, my friend? The world cannot be overrun already. There must surely be some beauty or interest you've seen?" The hero takes another sip of ale. "No, not overrun. Not yet. I am managing to stay ahead of the daedric hordes." The hero places down their cup. "Which is why I am come from Leyawiin county, by way of Bravil." They run a weary hand over their face. "The gates are clustered thick in the Blackwood. It's as if the enemy knows there is limited manpower to stop them at the edge of the territories. But," the smile they give is more of a grimace, "you asked about what beauty there is still in the world, not the unholy beasts that terrorise it. Be fair warned, o my Emperor, I am no poet." Their grimace relaxes into a lighter thing. The man imprisoned tops off their hero's cup. "I feel sure you will do it justice. You are more eloquent than you think." "If thou sayest." The hero winks. They take a swig from the cup and settle back, thinking. From without the hall, a Blade hails another as the guard changes. The wind, whipping down from the mountains, sings in the eves. Presently, the hero begins, "I came from Leyawiin county, aye, and through Bravil. But dark was closing in before I ever reached the city. So rather than take on spriggans by night, I stopped at Bawnwatch Camp. "They say a ghost haunts that mound, but if he came that night, I never saw – a gate opening wouldn't even have roused me! But when I did awake, fully refreshed next morning, what a sight it was that greeted me. "Bawnwatch sits on a little island, no larger than this room, in Niben Bay. Meaning it is surrounded on most sides by the water. The night I rode in on was damp and foggy, but the morn I woke to was glorious! "Fluffy, dappled clouds, like a herd of sheep, raced across the lavender sky, chasing mares' tails. The shore opposite was drenched in shadow, but the water! Filled with barely lapping waves, it looked like molten gold–" The man imprisoned laughs. "You couldn't think of a less cliché description?" "Do you want to hear this or not?" the hero laughs back. "And I'm telling you! It looked like someone took the Empire's coffers and melted it all down in the Nibenay. It was glorious and stunning and…" The hero draws a breath, their mouth hanging for want of a word. Their eyes search the rafters as if for divine inspiration. "A blessing." Their eyes glitter in the sconcelight, their voice softening, "Something to make up for all the blood and death of the Deadlands." The man imprisoned reaches out to squeeze his hero's hand. "A gift, to remind you of what you fight for."

[tearfulcoords]

Coord #1

First coord I ever made, I think this was from last year or something??? I recently tweaked it n added more stuff bc i felt it was originally missing something. I like to call this coord "Cheshire Rabbit" wwww

JSK: Ista Mori (Ace and Alice JSK)

Blouse: Pumpkin Cat/南瓜猫LOLITA

Shoes: Angelic Imprint

Tights: rubyrabbit

Bag: Rabbit Smash Kira Studio/兔砸Kira工作室

Hat (+ alt hat), pocket watch necklace: ForeverRose

Scissor necklace: Bear Kindergarten/小熊幼稚园Bear doll

Brooch: pinkyy no tezukuri (pinkyyの手作)

Shoe clip-ons: Hiorange

Alt shoes: MODO

Concrit welcome!

[darthpastry]

Small (665 word) segment of one of the various fics I’m working on being put on tumblr in hopes of receiving concrit and predictions because I’m a pantser and have somewhat lost motivation on this and am just generally curious about some feedback? How about that?

Anyway, Vanessa Afton and Ness the Waiter are siblings. That’s it. That’s the fic. Enjoy and warning for brief mention of blood :D

———————————————————

After a firm talk from their father about staying in the storage closet in the back of the pizzeria until he came back to get them, 'some of the animatronics may act odd while they're being taken care of, machinery is dangerous, don't touch anything that's made of metal and could possibly move on its own...' blah blah blah, the two twins were left alone on the storage room. 

Vanessa frowned and side-eyed Ness. "Are you happy now?" she asked, clearly sour about being stuck where they were. 

"Ecstatic!" Ness replied, not even looking at her as he examined every nook and cranny of the closet. He grabbed a broom and jabbed it into a springlock suit, looking with fascination as it snapped shut suddenly and violently. 

"NESS! Dad said not to touch," she scolded. 

"Did I touch it? I think not," he said as he leaned closer, still barely paying attention to her. "Dang... these things could kill someone. Easily. It's almost as though this was made to kill. Either a child or adult!" 

"Then you probably shouldn't have your face less than two inches away from it," was her dry reply. 

"I'm approximately three inches away. Besides, with the springlocks already activated, it's incredibly unlikely that I am in any danger at all. Even if I was, it's worth it!" Ness poked one of the springlocks with a look of glee. 

"You should still step away..." 

He glanced over, noticing the worry in her tone. He gave the suit a single, longing glance, before stepping away and glancing at the door. "I'm going to go check on something, stay here," Ness instructed. 

"The curse of idiocy has hit you hard today, I see, you're breaking every that Dad put in place for us. Where are you even going?" 

"I'm not an idiot, and I'll tell you later." 

"You're stupid and I'm going with you." 

"Absolutely not. Just because I'm breaking the rules doesn't mean you should. I'm older, therefore that makes me more responsible." Ness ignored Vanessa's scoff of disagreement. "I know exactly what I'm doing, besides, there's plenty of fun stuff in here!" 

"You know what? It's not even worth arguing with you at this point, dummy. But either you stay here, I come with you, or I'll tell Dad later." 

"You just always have to pull the 'I'll tell Dad' card, don't you?" 

She shrugged. "It works. Why wouldn't I?" 

"You're a little brat sometimes, you know that? But fine. You can come with me," he said with a resigned sigh. "Just stay behind and stay quiet." 

Vanessa nodded, looking slightly anxious but also pleased with herself as Ness pulled open the door. 

He crept through the pizzeria, all the way to the stage curtain, where he cautiously peeked through it to look out into the main room. Ness stifled a gasp as he shoved Vanessa back towards the storage closet. 

"What is it? I want to see!" she whisper-yelled. 

He shook his head, not seeming to be able to find words as his face contorted with a slight panic and he grabbed her hand, attempting to drag her away. 

"Did the endoskeletons scare you? You can be a real baby sometimes," Vanessa taunted. 

Ness shook his head again, motioning for her to hurry up. 

She scoffed in annoyance and ripped her hand free from his grasp. "I'm going to go see." 

"Don't!" he managed to whisper-yell as she peeked through the curtains. 

Ness cringed as Vanessa let out a loud scream of terror, and then he bolted back to the storage room. Perhaps he should've gone to drag his sister back with him, but she had already been caught. It would only be worse if both of them were caught, right? He never should've let her come with him. He never should've asked that they come here. It was too late now, though, Vanessa had already seen her father holding a bloody knife over a mangled body. 

———————————————————

@carouselrabbit

@walking-fnaf-encyclopedia

@hearts4ggy

No idea if y’all remember this ( https://www.tumblr.com/carouselrabbit/734873562621657088 ) and I’m by no means finished but it is in progress…

[serenefig]

I never posted this boy! How dare I!

He was drawn end of July. Need to rework the eyes so they match a lil better, but overall well super proud of how he came out. Really love my shading here (and that ear! Look at my ear!!!)

Questions, comments, concerns? I'm down for concrit!

[sasha-br]

This person gave me good concrit and excellent, kind feedback. It’s been nice to talk to them. I am much appreciative of their time and their feedback. 🤘🏻🩷⚔️

[digitalmidnight]

Protostar

A Bandana Waddle Dee centric fic that takes place between Superstar Saga and Return to Dreamland (Chap1, 6k~ words. Chap2, 4k~ words)

Chapter 1 + some wip for Chapter 2

The best perk of Bandana Dee's job was his bedroom. It was located on the second floor of the East wing, far from the barracks the soldiers slept in. His only neighbor was the Great King himself, who lived directly above him and, despite his tendency to stay up late into the night, he was quite quiet. Well, most nights anyway.

Bandana Waddle Dee opened his eyes slowly. 2:43 am, his clock read. Why'd he wake up? He didn’t feel thirsty, hungry, nor did he feel the urge to visit the bathroom. He wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, he felt he was in the most comfortable position he could be, bundled in thick, fuzzy blankets as the cool night’s breeze swept over the rest of the room from the cracked open window. Whatever reason he had to wake up didn’t matter. All he wanted to do was close his eyes and let the fountain of dream’s blessing wash over him yet again.

The sound of machinery reached the Waddle Dee’s ears. The King’s power drill, to be precise. Disgruntled and tired, Bandana Dee forced his eyes open to stare at the clock. 2:45 am. Despite his role as advisor, he preferred not to be against the king in any way. At the same time, his liege was using a power drill at near 3am. With much displeasure, Bandana peeled himself from his warm cocoon and made his way to the window. Pressing his cheek against the cold pane, the workshop on the third floor of the north wing where his King always did his engineering work was visible. The lights were on and the windows were closed, yet they did little to muffle the noises. He shut his window in hopes that maybe it would silence the cacophony of tools. It didn’t. With a sigh, Bandana Dee dragged himself from the window to make the long crawl to the Great King.

“My liege?” Softly called out Bandana. He had slipped into the room during a brief pause in the noises. Hunched over the workbench, King Dedede had his back to the door and protective headphones covering his ears. The power drill and all his other, louder tools currently weren’t in his hands as he appeared to be comparing whatever he was working on to his notes. It took a moment, but he did eventually turn to Bandana Dee, who was still in the doorway.

King Dedede took off his headphones and his safety glasses as quickly as he could without taking his headpiece off with it. “Strawberry shortcake?” Figures he wouldn’t question Bandana Dee being up at 3am, just if the slice of cake that Bandana Dee had grabbed for him was Strawberry shortcake. He had brought it knowing the King would enjoy a snack, hopefully enough to agree to leave whatever project he was working on for a more typical hour.

“Correct, Great King.” Seeing as there was no clear spot on the table, Bandana Dee opted to just hand the cake to King Dedede, who eagerly took it. “I thought you would enjoy a treat.”

The King didn’t even use a fork. He ate quicker than he usually did, if even possible, then wiped his hands on a spare rag before going back to reading his notes. The notes were an amalgamation of the King’s spontaneous ideas, observations, and complaints. All of which were written so erratically and messily that if Bandana had to read the notebook, he would need a decoder. On the table laid a metal shell that looked similar to the Great King’s hammer, as well as a small rocket and engine that may have once belonged to a vehicle of some sorts. Several blueprints for many other machines were scattered across the table, layered so only parts of them were visible. Nails and bolts were in piles wherever they could be. If there was a method to the madness, Bandana Dee didn’t see it.

Bandana Dee stood nearby, staring to see if he could figure out where his King was in his project, when he was pulled out of his thoughts by the king. “Hey, wait a sec. Since when are you up at midnight, Bandee?”

“It’s just past 3, sir.” Bandana Dee corrected.

“Quit joshin' with me, it ain’t that late!” Snapped King Dedede as he turned to his digital clock that rested on the wall just above the window. A fierce blush was making his way across his cheeks from the embarrassment and frustration at being wrong. As his King’s closest subordinate, he wouldn’t say a word about it.

“I heard your power drill from my room, Great King, and I thought you would want a small break from your work.”

His blush grew, however, the anger shifted away to sheepishness. He wouldn’t apologize, and Bandana Dee didn’t expect one, however he knew in his heart the King did feel semi guilty about the noise. Hopefully enough to cease using any loud tools so late in the evening again.

Hoping to shift the topic to one less embarrassing to his King, he asked curiously, “what are you working on, sir?”

“Well, you see this here?” King Dedede pointed to a blueprint on the table, one Bandana Dee couldn’t see from his vantage point. Thankfully, King Dedede shimmied to the right on his bench, making room for him to crawl onto the seat. The blueprint he was pointing to was of Kabula, his personal aircraft with advanced AI controls. It was of her redesign, which was faster and deadlier thanks to the efforts of the Great King, who had worked tirelessly on her until he declared the project finished last week.

King Dedede was tapping on a part of the blueprint showing a mere section of the aircraft. It was either a missile or a jet. “I thought adding a bit more oomph to my hammer will help me clobber that there Kirby. Makin’ my swings heavier and faster with this here engine will give that puffball a run for his money, if he even makes it to me! Ha!”

“Great King,” Bandana Dee exclaimed in curious confusion. It appeared as though his king were planning to add in a small engine along with a jet to a hammer. Yes, that would make his swings faster and heavier, however, “Wouldn’t that make your hammer too heavy?”

With a devious snicker, already imagining the future fight with Kirby, King Dedede picked up the engine from a nearby pile of parts and tossed it with the ease he would an apple. “Ha! This little extra weight ain’t anything! Heck, I think even you could carry it.” With that, he held out the engine in offering. Bandana Dee stared sleepily at it for a moment before reaching out to hold it. How heavy could it possibly be?

Heavy. So heavy. As soon as King Dedede’s support was gone, the engine, along with his hands, were dragged down to his feet. Thankfully, his liege had better reflexes than him, or perhaps he was just more awake, and grabbed the engine before either him or the engine took damage. That engine had to weigh more than 600 apples at the least, yet his King could hold it with ease.

“Uh, guess not. You okay?” Without looking, the Great King casually dropped the engine on the workbench, roughly where it had been originally.

“Y-yes.” To be sure, Bandana Dee shook his arms a little. He was fine. “Kirby sure has a tough fight ahead of him if you use that hammer, sir.”

“And I’ll have an easy one!” King Dedede turned back towards his worktable. “Tomorrow is the day me and Kirby’s rivalry ends once ‘n for all!”

“Of course, sire.” Tomorrow was the day. By morning, they would send for Kirby. If Bandana Dee’s calculations were correct, Kirby would arrive for the final battle between him and the King by sunset at the latest. The thought sent his heart racing, no matter how often his king reassured him that even if Kirby beat every other member of the army, Kirby didn’t stand a chance against the Great King. The excitement was extremely tiring, actually. A yawn escaped him.

King Dedede looked down at him. “You can go to bed now, Bandee.”

“Your Majesty should as well,” countered Bandana Dee. “We have a big day ahead of us.”

“I’ll go to bed when I’m done!” King Dedede declared, stubbornness flaring up.

“Then I will stay up with you, my King.” Bandana Dee said with his own brand of stubbornness. Though he expected that the Great King saw through this bluff when the Waddle Dee tried unsuccessfully to stifle another yawn. King Dedede said nothing about it, just moving back towards his work. The tossed aside engine was picked up with only one of his hands and laid carefully in the hammer’s shell. Arranging a tiny light so he would see, the Great King picked up a small tool and some wires and began to work on the inside of the shell.

Bandana Dee leaned over to rest his head on the King’s robe. To be able to be strong enough to hold back Kirby, who defeated Dark Matter, Nightmare, and many other terrifying bosses that Waddle Dee couldn’t name, was amazing.

If only he could be that strong as well.

Bandana Dee didn’t remember going to bed when he awoke tucked in a little too tight, but he did remember that burning desire to one day be as strong as his king. That wish of his persisted, even a week later, when he was pulling a small wagon with four neat boxes in it to the castle’s infirmary.

He approached the entrance. The doors were wide open, and the curtains drawn to let in sun. King Dedede was in the largest bed, which was closest to the wall-length window. He was reading a comic series he had been procrastinating on, boredom evident from his expression. Despite being able to drag himself back to the castle and into the infirmary, the doctor had ordered him to bedrest as his many wounds healed. He had been spending his time since either in his bedroom’s bed, the infirmary’s bed or, if he were feeling particularly adventurous, the couch in the lounge.

“My liege?” Unlike that night, the King immediately noticed Bandana Dee and practically slammed his comic book closed.

“Ah, Bandee,” he greeted. “Ready to get your butt handed to you at chess?”

“Not right now, sire.”

King Dedede looked disappointed at the answer. This said, his disappointment gave way to curiosity when he noticed the wagon. “Whatcha got there, delivery boxes?”

Bandana Dee gave a nod. “Kind of, sire. Please, choose one of them.”

King Dedede hemmed and hawed over the boxes, giving his decision on which box to choose more thought than he did some of the laws. Eventually, he settled for one, which Bandana Dee carefully picked up and handed to him. Contrasting Bandana Dee’s care, King Dedede ripped open the box in a single, eager motion.

Inside the box was a whole cake. “Oh, you got the triple chocolate layer cake, Great King. That’s the biggest of these cakes, I think.”

“These cakes?” King Dedede eyed the remaining unopened boxes. “You telling me there’s three other cakes in those there boxes?”

“Yes, however, your Majesty, they are for Kirby and Meta Knight.” Bandana Dee covered his ears.

Just as Bandana Dee knew it would, the King’s mood shifted quickly. His loud voice echoed in the empty infirmary and down the long corridors of the castle. “What do you mean it’s for Kirby and Meta Knight?! What did those two do to deserve a cake?!”

“Please, sire! They are peace cakes. It would be good to have Meta Knight and Kirby be our allies for the time being.”

“I don’t want to make friends with Kirby!” Bellowed King Dedede. At least he wasn’t protesting befriending Meta Knight, for the time being, even with the recent invasion attempt.

“My King,” Bandana Dee kept his voice gentle. “We can’t fight him at the moment. Anyone who could fight for us is out of commission. The doctor ordered you, our strongest fighter, to stay in bed. Even I am still a little sore.” At the mention of his soreness, King Dedede averted his gaze with a pout. “Wouldn’t it be nice to know Kirby and Meta Knight wouldn’t attack us? If only for a little while?”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. So long as that pipsqueak knows we ain’t friends.”

“Of course, my liege.” Bandana Dee looked happily to King Dedede. “May I challenge you to a game of chess over dinner tonight?”

Regardless of his earlier bad mood, the king’s mouth twitched to a smile. “You are going to regret challenging a chess master, such as myself!” Nothing could squash his competitive spirit, it seems.

“Looking forward to it, my King.”

Castle Dedede rested on top of a hill. Or maybe it was technically a mountain. The path to town was twisty due to the steep incline, resulting in a long walk for anyone visiting. King Dedede complained about the distance from town often and would take his car whenever he deigned to visit town. Unlike his King, Bandana Dee enjoyed the walk. It forced him to take in his surroundings and enjoy the nature around him, no matter how busy he was. Today’s weather was lazy and lethargic. Fine weather, especially as it almost seemed like even the sun and moon themselves were fighting recently. Everything in Dreamland was finally able to relax. It was great weather to attempt to soothe his anxieties about giving cakes to recent enemies.

In truth, Bandana Dee knew little about Kirby. He was good at fighting, willing to put himself in harm's way for his sense of justice and liked food just as much as his king. That was the extent of his knowledge. He hadn’t even known where he lived until he asked a few villagers.

The house wasn’t as Bandana Dee expected it to be. He was expecting something that looked more cozy, maybe more outdoor furniture for Kirby’s friends to hang out. Or maybe something painted bright and colorful, with an air of importance while still being childlike. He hadn’t been expecting a small, grey dome of a house. Was this really Kirby’s home? Everyone he asked claimed it was, yet he couldn’t really be sure. It hopefully was. With a sigh to calm himself, he gave a sharp knock on Kirby’s door.

The door creaked open, a bleary eyed Kirby peaking out from the crack. He looked and sounded as though he just woke up this late into the afternoon. “Eh, the delivery guy?”

Oh, thank the stars, this is the right house. “No, I’m Bandana Waddle Dee.” Bandana Dee gave a polite bow.

“Oh!” Kirby exclaimed, now wide awake. “You are Dedede’s friend.”

“N-No! I’m the Great King’s advisor!” Hastily corrected Bandana Dee.

“Eh? Isn’t that a type of hat?”

Bandana Dee decided to ignore that. “And I am here to bring a cake as an offering of friendship fro-”

“You have cake?!” Now excited, Kirby fully threw open his door. From what Bandana Dee could see, Kirby did just roll out of bed to answer his door. Kirby ran out and excitedly looked at the wagon. Before Bandana Dee could say anything, Kirby had already grabbed one box and was reaching for another.

“Ah, Kirby. Please, only take one box!”

“Why only one?”

“Because the other two will go to Meta Knight.”

“Why does Meta Knight get two?” Whined Kirby and, for a second, Bandana Dee was astonished by the similarities between Kirby and his King.

“Sir Meta Knight needs two so he can share with his crew.” Bandana Dee explained carefully, watching Kirby’s expression in hopes that he would accept such an explanation.

He did. “Okay!” Kirby cheered up immediately, tore open the box just like King Dedede, and swallowed whatever cake he got whole. “Yummy! You sure I can’t have seconds?”

“I’m sorry. I only made four cakes.”

“Four? But there’s,” Kirby paused and slowly tried to count the boxes.

Once again, Bandana Dee gently explained, “the first went to the Great King.”

He expected some sort of complaint from that, but one never came. Instead, Kirby’s eyes sparkled. “So me and Dedede both had a friendship cake?”

“Yes,” answered Bandana Dee, now wary.

“So me and Dedede are friends?” Kirby’s voice was so full of hope and excitement. It hurt too much to outright say no.

“I’m sorry, Kirby.” The sparkle left Kirby’s eyes and he, crestfallen, stared at the ground with a quivering lip.

The guilt gnawed at Bandana Dee. He hadn’t the heart to leave Kirby like this. “But! I’ll be your friend!”

“Really?!” exclaimed an energetic Kirby. Before Bandana Dee could even utter a response, Kirby was squeezing him in a tight hug. It wasn’t an uncomfortable embrace. Kirby seemed very mindful of his strength while still holding Bandana Dee as close as possible, as though he would fly away otherwise. Just as the hug almost reached an awkward length of time, Kirby withdrew himself from Bandana Dee. Not completely though, as he now was holding on to Bandana Dee’s hand. Bewildered, Bandana Dee gave a slow blink to Kirby and another to their now clasped together hands. Kirby blinked back in response, looking as innocent as can be.

“So, what do you want to do now?”

“Um, well,” Bandana Dee could barely believe what had just happened. Surely this was a trick? Why would Kirby, King Dedede’s rival, who had only met Bandana Dee once in a fight, want to be his friend? Kirby of the Stars, destroyer of Dark Matter and savior of Dreamland wants to be his friend? The creature who his King often called the pink demon wanted to be… Bandana Dee’s friend?

“Bandana Dee,” called out Kirby. He was still holding Bandana Dee’s hand, still smiling serenely, with not a bad thought in his head. “What do you want to do? If you ask me, tempura sounds really good right now! Oh, but so does something cold and sweet like an ice cream sandwich! Then again, I am still kinda sleepy.”

“I need to deliver these two cakes to Sir Meta Knight, and I will need to return to the castle by sundown.” Saying it aloud, Bandana Dee winced. Delivering cakes wouldn’t sound fun to someone like Kirby. The nervous jitters began to build up in Waddle Dee, though he couldn’t pinpoint why. “However, I will be free the rest of the day, I think. But, then again, it might take a while to find Sir Meta Knight, so I am not exactly sure.”

“Hmmm, right now he should be,” training his eyes to the sky, Kirby trailed off. Bandana Dee tried to follow his gaze, but failed. He couldn’t tell whether Kirby was looking at the sun, the clouds, some far-off, invisible star or even if he was looking at anything at all. Without warning, Kirby suddenly shouted, “at the arena, training!”

There was only one arena near here, yet Bandana Dee still felt compelled to ask, “the one where the Megaton Punch tournament was?” Kirby nodded with his whole body.

“It’s a relaxing day today,” remarked Kirby. “Meta trains to relax.”

“I see, but how are you sure he is at the arena?”

“Well, Meta likes big, open places to train, so he is somewhere with a lot of room. Today is such a sleepy day, so his crew will want to take a nap, so they will be somewhere difficult to take a nap, so not under Whispy Woods’ shade. Lastly, Meta likes it when people cheer for him, so he is somewhere where it is easy to cheer for people, like an arena!” Kirby held a big grin on his face as he waited for a reaction.

“Wow, Kirby.” Whispered Bandana Dee, which was close enough to the reaction that Kirby was looking for. Regardless of the process that brought him there, the arena was as good a place as any to start looking for Meta Knight. “Thank you for your help.”

“Eh? Why do you sound like you are saying goodbye?”

“Oh, I had thought you wouldn’t want to do something as boring as delivering cakes with me.”

With a certain desperation, Kirby shook his head. “No! Chores are boring, but they can be fun with friends! Besides, I haven’t seen Meta since you-know-what. It’ll be nice to say hi and help give the friendship cake so we can all be friends!”

There was just something about Kirby. Maybe it was the simple, straight-forward attitude of his or maybe the way he wore his heart on his sleeve. There was just something that made it seem like being friends with Kirby would be easy. Bandana Dee could feel no ill-intent nor ulterior motive from the Pink Demon holding his hand, just the simple joy that comes from being near a friend.

“Come on then, Bandana Dee!” Bandana Dee nearly forgot that him and Kirby were still holding hands, however he was swiftly reminded of that fact when he was pulled with remarkable speed and strength down the steep hill with his wagon clunking along behind.

“S-slow down Kirby!”

Bandana Dee wasn’t expecting Kirby to be exactly right. Hand in hand, Bandana Dee and Kirby approached the arena entrance, already having heard the sounds of swordplay before they arrived. Two of the Meta-Knights, Trident Knight and Mace Knight, were having a mock battle as the other Meta-Knights lounged tiredly near their weapons in the afternoon sun. Meta Knight loomed from the highest seats in the arena, watching his crew like a hawk. Those piercing eyes of his behind his mask caused Bandana Dee to freeze up. This was Meta Knight! The intergalactic legend whom just last week was planning a takeover of dreamland!

Meta Knight spread his wings, making himself seem all the more larger, and glided to the middle of the arena. Bandana Dee felt his fight-or-flight senses screaming at him to run, abandon the cakes, and seek somewhere beyond Meta Knight’s gaze. Lacking that fear that Bandana Dee held, Kirby finally released Bandana Dee’s hand and ran towards Meta Knight. He embraced the Knight just as tightly as He did Bandana Dee. Meta Knight remained stoic, motionless, and unfazed.

“…Greetings Kirby and…” Meta Knight paused, then looked towards Galaxia in its sheath as though it held whatever answers he was seeking. “…Bandana Dee.” He lightly tapped Kirby’s side twice, after which Kirby released the Knight and ran back towards Bandana Dee. This time, Bandana Dee reached for Kirby’s hand first, squeezing it tight.

“Good afternoon, Sir Meta Knight,” Bandana Dee managed to say. All other words failed him. He could feel the stares of the Meta-Knights on him as he did everything in his power to not tremble. He felt a reassuring squeeze from Kirby and squeezed back. All the while, Meta Knight stood still, watching.

Seeing as nobody else wanted to speak, Kirby shouted out, “we have friendship cakes!”

“Cake?” Excitedly asked one of the Meta-Knights. Axe Knight, Bandana Dee believed their name was. To his relief, all the attention was drawn to his little wagon and the two still-intact boxes inside.

“May we borrow the wagon?” Abruptly asked Meta Knight.

Bandana Dee squeaked out a “Y-Yes, sir!”

“Very well. Bring the cake back to base. Save some for Captain Vul and Sailor.”

Bandana Dee was confused for a moment, wondering if the command was for him, until the Meta-Knights released a chorus of “Yes, Sir!”

“May I?” asked the one who Bandana Dee was sure was Blade. He handed off the wagon to the knight. With invigorated spirits, The Meta-Knights then began to leave the area, happily talking amongst one another about cake. Without another word, Meta Knight turned around and began to stalk to a training dummy.

Kirby let out a small, cheery hum. “That went well. Meta Knight looks really happy!”

“Does he?” Bandana Dee had to ask. Meta Knight, carrying on as though he didn’t hear their conversation, unsheathed the legendary Galaxia. In a movement too swift for Bandana Dee to catch, Meta Knight had chopped the Mr. Sandman in half.

“Yeah, that’s his happy slashes!” The Mr. Sandman regenerated with a pop, only to be cut in twain once more. Meta Knight’s power was great, that much was evident. Though Bandana Dee knew this already, along with almost everyone else in the galaxy. He was a legendary warrior, perhaps the strongest one who ever lived if one didn’t count Kirby. The other thing he had been known for was his mystique. His actions, reasoning, expressions were all a mystery nobody who told his stories knew. Bandana Dee could see why. Nobody, save Kirby and perhaps his crew, seemed to be able to read Meta Knight.

A sudden thought hit Bandana Dee, an intrusive one that he couldn’t suppress. Meta Knight trained people into warriors. The crew under him were considered to be one of the most capable in the galaxy. And here Meta Knight was, in front of him. He is most likely stranded on Popstar for a time until the mighty Halberd is restored. Maybe then he might not mind training Bandana Dee? He internally berated himself for the thought. This was Meta Knight. Why would he train someone like Bandana Dee? A burst of unexpected courage shot through him, screaming at him, why not ask? Just ask, and he can decline and Bandana Dee can spend the remainder of his time away from the castle with Kirby.

“Sir Meta Knight!” blurted out Bandana Dee. All his courage disappeared the moment he heard his own voice. He had to ask, though. He knew he would regret it for years if he didn’t. “Sir, um- can you teach me how to fight?” Meta Knight turned to face Bandana Dee. “Not as a member of your crew or anything- just the basics are fine! And it’s fine if you don’t want to or anything-”

Meta Knight interrupted his rambling. “Have you fighting experience?”

“I-er-no.”

“What do you mean, Bandana Dee?” Innocently remarked Kirby. “You fought me.”

“Yes, but,” Bandana Dee trailed off as he stared at Meta Knight. He was staring right back. “Would you say I have fighting experience, Kirby?”

Kirby opened his mouth to speak. However shut it quickly as he quietly thought about it. “You did good for your first try?” He weakly offered.

Meta Knight paid Kirby’s answer no mind. “Why do you wish to learn to fight?” Bandana Dee closed his eyes so he wouldn’t see Meta Knight’s intense stare. Why did he wish to fight? How could he put that feeling of his into words?

After a moment, Bandana Dee settled on an answer. “I want to protect my home, just as the Great King and Kirby do.” A light breeze blew, prompting Bandana Dee to open his eyes. Meta Knight was no longer staring. Instead, he appeared deep in thought, transfixed at some point far beyond Bandana Dee. Kirby, again, gave Bandana Dee’s hand a squeeze. When Bandana Dee turned to face him, he shot a confident grin at him as well, like Kirby already knew Meta Knight’s answer would be positive. Bandana Dee gave the hand a squeeze back. He wished he shared that sentiment.

Meta Knight broke the silence. “What is your weapon of choice?”

“I suppose the spear? However, I haven’t had any experience with any weapon.”

“That is fine.” Meta Knight turned to the stands and crossed the short distance there. From where one of the Meta-Knights were sitting, he pulled out a wooden training spear. He threw it towards Bandana Dee, who jumped back along with Kirby. If Bandana Dee hadn’t jumped back, the spear would have landed just in front of him.

“Show me what you do know.” Meta Knight commanded. Bandana Dee wanted to respond with how he knew nothing of the spear, but Meta Knight probably already knew that. He released Kirby’s hand, then grabbed the spear. It was slightly taller than expected. It was more of a pike than a spear, given that it lacked a metal tip.

He shifted his grip towards the middle of the pole and ran towards the Mr. Sandman. He swung it. With a soft thud, it hit the top of Mr. Sandman’s head. No damage appeared to be done. He swung again and whacked Mr. Sandman’s side.

“Good Job, Bandana Dee!” Called Kirby. Bandana Dee whacked Mr. Sandman again. It appeared there was still no damage done.

“Enough.” Announced Meta Knight.

“He did really good, right, Meta Knight?” Kirby prompted, staring at Meta Knight expectantly.

“…You attacked as though you thought your spear was a hammer.”

“Oh,” whispered Bandana Dee. He was right, he was swinging like he had seen the Great King do before. That didn’t ease the sting of the blunt criticism.

“This said,” Meta Knight paused, then gave a short nod. “You have potential. I will train you while I am in Dreamland.”

Bandana Dee nearly dropped his weapon in surprise. “R-really?!” Meta Knight would train him?!

“Be warned, my training has been described as rigorous.”

“I can handle it! Thank you, Sir Meta Knight!”

“Very well. First lesson, how to hold your weapon. Kirby, you too.”

Kirby, who had been smiling at them, groaned, but complied. Meta Knight was firm and exact. Once he was sure Kirby and Bandana Dee knew how to wield a spear, he had them run laps while holding it safely. While Bandana Dee wasn’t sure how comfortable he was running with the real thing yet, he was grateful for the practice. Especially given the one or two times he tripped. Learning to safely fall with his weapon seemed like an important thing to learn.

Following their laps was a quick lesson on how to thrust a spear. Kirby took to the attack like a blipper to water. Unlike Kirby, Bandana Dee fumbled. The movement felt unnatural and janky. It wasn’t yet a fluid motion. Sometimes, despite feeling he did everything right, Bandana Dee still missed the Mr. Sandman with his attack. Meta Knight gave out small, verbal corrections, mostly over his stance. This was fine. Bandana Dee inhaled, exhaled, then tried again. And again. And again.

“You are getting better.” Meta Knight remarked after a short while.

Bandana Dee glanced towards him in surprise. “Sir, I missed.”

“You are improving. Focus on that.” He was right. Bandana Dee had no clue how to do this yesterday. He was improving, and tomorrow he’d improve more. He had to focus on that.

Kirby’s voice cut through Bandana Dee’s thoughts. “Hey, uh, Bandana Dee?” Kirby asked, sounding unsure. He was sitting next to the Mr. Sandman he had been training on.

“Yes, Kirby?”

“It’s sunset.”

It’s sunset? It’s sunset! Bandana Dee dropped his spear and turned towards the sky. It was a beautiful, fiery orange. Fiery like his King’s temper when Bandana Dee is late. “Oh my Nova! Thank you, Kirby. Thank you for training me, Sir Meta Knight. I need to run back to the castle. Please excuse me!”

Without warning, Meta Knight stretched out his wings, preparing for flight. “Flying would be faster.”

“Thank you, Sir Meta Knight, but you don’t have to- ah!” Meta Knight grabbed Bandana Waddle Dee and flew quickly away from the arena.

“Bye, Bandana Dee! Meta Knight!” Called out Kirby from the ground. He was already so far away. The wind was loud and chilly. They were closer to the tips of pine trees than the ground. It was thrilling. Castle Dedede looked beautiful from up here, glowing in the sunset. Meta Knight sure hadn’t been lying when he so boldly claimed flying would be faster. They arrived at the castle within only a few minutes.

“May you drop me off on that balcony over there? On the second floor?” Shouted out Bandana Dee. He hoped Meta Knight could hear him over all this wind. He seemed to, as Meta Knight, with great care, dropped Bandana Dee off on the balcony he requested. It was the one that connected to the infirmary. King Dedede was not in his bed, nor was he even in the room. Nurse Waddle Dee was, however, and startled upon their arrival.

“Bandana Dee! The Great King is looking for you!” Exclaimed Nurse Dee. Oh dear, just what he feared.

“Where is his Majesty?”

“I’ll go get him!” Before Bandana Dee could protest, Nurse Dee had already fled from the room. Instead, Bandana Dee turned his attention towards Meta Knight. He hadn’t left and was perched on the wall, looking down at Bandana Dee.

“Thank you again for the ride, Sir Meta Knight. You may leave, if you wish.”

Meta Knight turned his head slightly. “Will you be in trouble for your tardiness?”

“Not overly so.” Bandana Dee could imagine his King throwing a fit and making Bandana Dee make him a certain food, yet he doubted he would be in too much trouble.

“Regardless, I’ll take the fall for you being late.”

“Sir Meta Knight, you didn’t know I needed to be back at the castle by sunset, and it was me who lost track of time!” Protested Bandana Dee. Not even mentioning the still rocky relationship between King Dedede and Meta Knight! Bandana Dee wouldn’t forgive himself should a fight break out over Meta Knight taking the fall for Bandana Dee’s faults.

Meta Knight wasn’t given a chance for a rebuttal, if he was even planning on giving one. The double doors to the infirmary were slammed open. “Bandee!” Shouted out King Dedede. The King’s excited smile disappeared the moment he saw Meta Knight. His stance changed. He held himself cordially but looked prepared to fight if need be.

“Good evening, Great King. I was out on a walk and lost track of time. Sir Meta Knight flew me here when he saw my panic.” Bandana Dee gave a polite bow to Meta Knight as he prayed Meta Knight went along with his story. “Thank you for flying me here, Sir Meta Knight.”

“…farewell.” Without any more warning, Meta Knight flew off with a flap of his wings. King Dedede and Bandana Dee watched as his silhouette got smaller the further he went. From the direction he looked as though he were heading back to the arena.

From behind him, King Dedede let out a low, tired groan. His show of bravado was done and gone. He collapsed on to the hospital bed, near breathless from exertion.

“Great King!” Exclaimed Bandana Dee. “Are you alright?!”

Bandana Dee received a muffled “I’m fine,” in response. Guilt still gnawed at Bandana Dee. His King was probably exhausted after searching the castle for him, all because Bandana Dee couldn’t be on time. King Dedede moved his head so he could see Bandana Dee, then glared. Why? Bandana Dee froze. Maybe he really was mad this time! Maybe some big emergency came up that went poorly without Bandana Dee!

He hadn’t expected the next words out of his King’s mouth. “Where’d you get that scrape on your cheek?” Scrape? Bandana Dee put a hand to his cheek, only to retract it from the sting. It must’ve happened during the laps he ran. He hadn’t noticed.

“I tripped during my cake deliveries. It must have happened then,” lied Bandana Dee. His King clearly wouldn’t like the idea of Meta Knight training him, yet Bandana Dee needed to learn how to be strong. It would be fine, for now. He’ll tell King Dedede when he is ready.

With another groan, King Dedede pushed himself to a sitting position on the bed. Then, as suddenly as Meta Knight, grabbed Bandana Dee. Before he could utter a word, Bandana Dee found himself sitting on the foot of the hospital bed as King Dedede reached for a first-aid kit.

“I can take care of it, Sire.” Ignoring Bandana Dee, King Dedede brought out a disinfectant wipe and a bandage. He cleaned and bandaged the wound without a word. “Are you angry, your Majesty?”

“Nah,” King Dedede quickly dismissed. “Just a bit hungry.” On cue, his stomach growled. Strange, his King should have had dinner as soon as the sun hit the horizon.

“Oi! Start servin’ dinner in here! Prompto!” Bellowed King Dedede. Several Waddle Dees ran from the hallway into the infirmary and began to put both King Dedede’s and Bandana Dee’s servings of dinner on to a temporary table. It appeared as though the search for Bandana Dee had been prioritized over dinner. Both guilt and gratitude swelled in his heart.

“You good? Bandage okay?” Asked his King in a tone gentler than he addressed the others with.

“Thanks to you, my King.” Reassured Bandana Dee. He turned to look outside. The fiery sunset had gone away, replaced by the cool evening’s sky. “Is it too late for a game of chess, Great King?”

King Dedede gave a mischievous smile. “After dinner you are gonna regret that challenge!” Bandana Dee wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

Chapter 2, Persevering (wip)

Bandana Dee digs himself into a hole. Meta Knight is awkward. King Dedede struggles being nicer than his usual haughty self. Kirby is just happy to be around friends. A chapter that sets up the main conflict and gives more insight about the current dynamics between the four.

... means there's missing words or scenes that are incomplete. I'm open to concrit on chapter 2 on this post only. Mostly about y'alls opinion on pacing as I know I ramble sometimes

Bandana Dee liked schedules. He never was able to adhere to them due to the unpredictable nature of his King and his job, but he liked them in theory. They gave him much needed structure.

He awoke in the early morning every day, often rising before the sun, and ran through the report from night-shift Waddle Dees. The report would say everything was fine and orders for necessities like food were received as well as properly stored. In the kitchen, the chefs would be making the breakfast that Bandana Dee planned the day before. Bandana Dee would greet them as he grabbed a glass of juice to drink during his work.

In the interim between waking up and breakfast, Bandana Dee would do all of the planning and organizing for the day. He’d organize schedules of the soldiers, the janitors, the chefs and everyone besides his King. The King’s breakfast, lunch, dinner and all snacks were planned for, down to the ingredients needed and price. The Waddle Dees’ food, however, was handled by the chefs based on what the others requested, so Bandana Dee had to track trends and insure they didn’t run out of any popular foods or essential ingredients. When he deigned for a break from planning, he would go outside briefly to check the mail and sort the bills, from the junk, from the advertisements his King would care about. There never was any fun mail, like a nice letter or an invitation, yet Bandana Dee still kept his hopes up that there would be one, some day. Bills would be scheduled to be paid, junk mail would be recycled or given to one of the Waddle Dees who was working on a collage and the relevant mail would be kept close to show to his Liege.

If sticking to the schedule, breakfast would be ready soon and King Dedede would need to be awoken. This responsibility also fell to Bandana Dee. The process took long enough that breakfast would already be on the table when they entered the dining room. It was a quiet meal. King Dedede was never awake enough for conversation. On a normal day, the rest of the schedule would be played by the ear, dependent entirely on his Liege. There would be no more semblance of a schedule until late evening, when his Majesty decided he wanted to go to bed. Bandana Dee would quietly do inventory and check the finances to make sure everything was accounted for, then would finally get to rest.

Now, his schedule was a little more structured. He still did his morning chores, still sorted the mail and still ate with his King, but when Noon approached, Bandana Dee began to delegate what chores he could. He would bid his King farewell, sneak something from the kitchen and hurry down the path to the town as soon as possible. Typically, Kirby would be napping in the shade of a tree that grew between the castle and town. Today was no exception.

Bandana Dee approached without regard for volume and shook his friend lightly. “Kirby! Good afternoon!"

With a hum, Kirby began to awaken. “Hmm? Ah, Bandana Dee! Food?” He held his hands out, sleepily. Bandana Dee grabbed them and pulled him to a standing position before handing Kirby today’s snack.

“Of course! Today’s snack is…” Bandana Dee paused for dramatic effect. “An omelet muffin! They are really good, though I believe it may be lacking something like cheddar cheese.” The muffin had barely been passed to Kirby before it had been devoured.

“I thought it was yummy!”

“You think all food is yummy,” giggled Bandana Dee.

“It is!” Training with Meta Knight happened daily at 1pm. Bandana Dee liked to leave the castle early to spend time with Kirby. It was a little weird spending leisure time with anyone but his King, if Bandana Dee was being honest. He was a little out of practice for the whole friendship thing.

Not that Kirby minded one bit. “So, what do you want to do today?” He asked, agog. He had picked what they did yesterday, which was finishing half a coloring book, so it was Bandana Dee’s turn to choose.

“Let’s go to Chef Kawasaki’s.”

“Eh?” After training with Meta Knight, Kirby and Bandana Dee would visit Chef Kawasaki’s. It was a tradition started the second day of training, as Bandana Dee knew he needed a cover of sorts if he didn’t want his King to catch on. What better cover is there than handing proof of his labors in the form of tasty food to his Liege? Chef Kawasaki had agreed to pretend to mentor Bandana Dee and allow the Waddle Dee to cook in his kitchen on one condition. That condition being that, on the days Bandana Dee came over to cook, the only food Kirby could eat from his kitchen had to be made by Bandana Dee. Bandana Dee didn’t understand the condition at the time, it seemed too good to be true. He understood it now. He understood it very well now. He didn’t mind though. It was impossible to satiate an appetite like Kirby’s, however it was also very rewarding to have someone outside of the castle enjoy his cooking.

“Today, we’ll go to Chef Kawasaki’s early to prepare lunch. That way, after training, we’ll be able to have a big picnic.”

Kirby’s eyes grew large. “A picnic?!”

With a nod, Bandana Dee continued. “Yes. I think we should have it in that spot by the river. You remember? The small, flat area near the shade of that lone giant tree?”

“Yes, yes. I remember.” Kirby nodded his head eagerly. “But what about the food?”

Bandana Dee couldn’t help but laugh at his friend’s antics. “Well, we will see what ingredients Chef Kawasaki has. I’m thinking maybe some cold sandwiches, yogurt with berries, some fruit juice, and a dessert of some kind. Maybe cookies. I can easily bring a box of cookies back to the castle with me. We can eat the rest of them.”

Kirby let out a squeal. “Sounds yummy! Let’s go! Come on, Bandana Dee, cookies!” With that Kirby, as he so often did, grabbed Bandana Dee’s hand and ran to Chef Kawasaki’s restaurant.

...

1pm rolled around. Kirby and Bandana Dee stood alone in the middle of the arena. Meta Knight was late. He had never been late before. Even Kirby, who was often unfazed when it came to the swordsman, looked confused. By this time, Meta Knight typically had the training dummies set and weapons laid out as he watched from somewhere high. When the time was right, he’d make a grand entrance by swooping into the arena. Now, where was he?

“Do you think this is a training exercise? One where he is hiding, and we must seek him out?”

Kirby shook his head. “No, I think he isn’t here at all.” Bandana Dee looked around the stadium anyway. Unless he was under the seats or in the announcer’s booth, there was nowhere to hide.

“What now then?” Nervously asked Bandana Dee.

Kirby looked up to the sky. Bandana Dee looked up as well. There, so small he wasn’t anything more than a speck, was Meta Knight. They watched as he soared, gradually becoming larger as he approached. Gracefully, he landed in front of them, seemingly tired. In a fluid motion, he changed his wings for a cape. It was a motion that Bandana Dee had seen dozens of times before, yet he never was sure how Meta Knight pulled off such a maneuver.

“My apologies,” grunted out Meta Knight. “Something came up.”

“It’s no trouble, Sir Meta Knight. Is everything alright?”

The only response given was a shrug. Meta Knight seemed eager to move on from the topic as he turned away from the duo. If he didn’t want to talk about it, so be it. From nowhere, to Bandana Dee’s shock, he pulled out a Mr. Sandman. He’d never seen the knight prepare nor clean up their mess from the arena. Bandana Dee watched as Meta Knight did the move once again. This time he brought out the training spear, which was easily twice the knight’s height. Where could he be hiding these objects before pulling them out?

Meta Knight got into position to pull something else out of nowhere before Bandana Dee called out, “Sir, how are you doing that?”

“Doing what?” asked Kirby, confused.

“Making those objects appear out of air?” Bandana Dee began to feel uncertainty creeping into his bones.

Meta Knight, as he typically did, didn’t respond. However, he turned to face the Waddle Dee. Slowly, so Bandana Dee could see what he was doing, he reached into his cape. His hand disappeared into the dark expanse as though it was submerged in water. From the darkness he drew Kirby’s blade. It was mesmerizing watching the sword slowly appear. Once it was fully out, he tossed it to Kirby. Kirby caught it with ease, casually tilting it back and forth to show off it’s luster.

Bandana Dee couldn’t but whisper a comment. “Amazing.” As though encouraged by the praise, Meta Knight reached back in, this time at a normal speed. Out came another Mr. Sandman. Even knowing what to look for, Bandana Dee could barely tell the items came from his cape.

Meta Knight clapped once to get his attention. He abruptly switched the topic. “Today’s focus will be on throwing your weapon precisely. Same as yesterday. Wait for my signal.” With that, he grabbed the two Mr. Sandmen and flew off to the other side of the arena.

The exercise wasn’t a complicated one. That didn’t mean it wasn’t difficult, all it meant was that the steps were simple. All Bandana Dee had to do was run until he reached the line drawn in the sand, lob his spear, and hope his aim was true. Meta Knight had recently begun to let him train with a real spear. The tip was heavier than the pike used before, but there was little difference beyond that. To his surprise, Bandana Dee never felt overwhelmingly nervous holding the weapon. It felt natural, as though his weapon was a part of him. A part of him that was clumsy and awkward, but a part of him nonetheless. It helped that the activities they did ensured the only person who could be hurt should Bandana Dee make a mistake was himself.

Meta Knight dragged a line in the sand. Each Mr. Sandman was a distance away from one another. Giving a small nod to Kirby before hand, Bandana Dee began to walk away so he could run straight to his Mr. Sandman. His target was half an arena away. He could do this.

“Go!” ordered Meta Knight from his perch on the highest seats. Kirby and Bandana Dee began to run. The part where Bandana Dee consistently messed up was the throw. He was capable of getting good momentum....

...

The spear fell, pathetically clattering in front of the dummy. A sigh escaped him. He needed to make a decision and commit. Maybe next time. He looked over to his side. Kirby had thrown the sword, but missed. His weapon was embedded in the sand. A silent second passed.

Confused, Bandana Dee and Kirby both looked up to Meta Knight. He was staring without seeing, not even looking down to the two of them in the arena. While Meta Knight was prone to long bouts of silence, he usually had some commentary when they made a mistake.

Kirby decided to call out to him. “Meta Knight!”

Meta Knight did not jump. He was too trained to jump. He did snap to attention, however, and looked down to the two of them as though he wasn’t staring into space. “What is it?”

Kirby blinked, confused. “You didn’t say anything about my aim. Is everything alright?”

“I simply thought you didn’t need my guidance with aiming,” Meta Knight replied coldly. “Or committing to your throw.” He tacked on for Bandana Dee.

Kirby didn’t like that answer. Narrowing his eyes, he stared unflinchingly at Meta Knight. Mirroring his expression, Meta Knight stared back. No words were spoken between either of them. The tension was suffocating and Bandana Dee knew that both of them were as relentlessly stubborn as his King. Neither of them would back off on their own terms.

Bandana Dee grabbed Kirby’s hand and whispered to him, “Meta Knight’s worried about something he doesn’t wish to tell us. Let’s leave him to his thoughts, c’mon.”

Hesitantly, Kirby obliged, walking over to pick up his weapon and then return to his starting point. Bandana Dee did as well. To his credit, Meta Knight began to voice his subtle corrections once more. Though, over the course of the practice, he began to be quieter and quieter until he was silent once more. When Kirby looked back to Bandana Dee, Bandana Dee shook his head.

...

The spear soared, gliding far over the Mr. Sandman’s head. With a loud thunk it embedded itself into the wooden wall of the arena, much to Bandana Dee’s horror. How could he have missed that bad? He ran over to the wall to check the damage. It didn’t seem intensive. It looked bad due to the spear sticking out of it, but the damage to the wall seemed to only be a thin crack. He would need to remember to bring stuff to fix the wall next practice. The true problem would be removing the spear without damaging the wall or weapon.

...

Meta Knight drew his blade and swooped to the lower seats, keeping his wings out and splayed to make himself seem all the more taller. “Fine, if you are so insistent upon my attention, draw your blade and face me in battle!” He, in a motion somehow quicker than the other times, produced a real blade from his cape and threw it to the ground. It stabbed straight threw, getting stuck as though the ground itself was as weak as the soft, broken wood Bandana Dee had pierced earlier.

Bandana Dee leaped back out of fear. Kirby leaped back out of stubbornness. “I don’t want to fight!” He yelled, voice half a plea and half a complaint. “I want you to tell me what’s wrong!”

All he could do to brace himself was cover his eyes. Bandana Dee was fully expecting Meta Knight to swoop in, disregarding Kirby’s plea and attacking the currently weaponless Kirby. He didn’t. Instead he lowered his blade and relaxed his wings in a disappointed manner. Bandana Dee, too, lowered his hands. While Meta Knight stared off into space, Bandana Dee made his way over to Kirby. Pouting still, Kirby reached blindly towards Bandana Dee’s hands. They, holding hands as usual, looked up to Meta Knight who had neither put his sword away nor started an assault.

...

A sudden movement abruptly pulled his gaze from his friend to Meta Knight. Galaxia was placed away, however he tensed his wings again. “Bandana Waddle Dee.”

He shot up to attention, “Yes Sir?”

“I need to ask King Dedede a question. Regardless of his answer, I am willing to continue training you.” With that he flew off, gliding over their heads and out of the arena. Kirby, and by extension, Waddle Dee, chased him to the arena entrance. He was long gone by then.

“He never tells me anything,” whined Kirby.

Worried, Bandana Dee turned to Kirby. “What do you think he needs to ask his Majesty about?”

“Who knows?” When he caught sight of Bandana Dee’s stressed face, he eased his tone. “I’m sure it’s nothing too bad.”

“Well, you do know Meta Knight the most, I suppose.” Privately, Bandana Dee still worried. What question could the knight have specifically for his King? One that he could ask neither Kirby nor Bandana Dee about? Or, perhaps, this was just Meta Knight’s nature. “Does he do this often?”

“What? The mysteriously avoiding questions thing?” Bandana Dee nodded, and Kirby nodded right back. “Yeah. Last time he did it, he flew up to the mirror world in the sky because he saw something evil! Then he fought his mirror clone until he lost and got captured in the mirror!

“What?” Asked Bandana Dee, now more worried about evil sky mirrors than the question. It seemed fantastical, especially as Bandana Dee had personally never seen any mirror in the sky, but then again this was Kirby. The mirror seemed more tame than some of the other stuff that Bandana Dee knew his friend faced.

Kirby shrugged. “It’s fine now. I was on a walk and saw them, so I went over to help! I may have been cut in 4, but that’s okay, because I saved Meta Knight and got rid of Dark Mind who corrupted the mirror world!”

“Huh?!”

Kirby shook his head, as if everything he had said was normal. “Don’t worry! There’s a picnic to be had!”

As he was pulled along, Bandana Dee couldn’t help but wonder if Kirby knew he had the same habit of abruptly switching subjects that Meta Knight had.

The picnic spot was Bandana Dee’s favorite place beyond the castle. It was both close enough to the town that they could be there quickly if anything bad happened, and secluded enough that one would have to seek them out if they wanted to bother them. Chef Kawasaki had been generous enough to not only pack their food, he also packed a soft blanket and a pitcher of juice. Kirby and Bandana Dee set up the picnic under the lone tree, mostly Bandana Dee as Kirby was drooling at the idea of food.

...

Bandana Dee heard King Dedede’s booming laugh echo the hallway before he opened the door to the throne room. It was the showy laugh he only did around people who didn’t live with him in the castle, which gave Bandana Dee pause. The King wasn’t laughing with Meta Knight, was he? Mentally, he tried to think of anyone else who the King could be talking to right now. Maybe one of the people he had gone on adventures with? Like Adeline or Ribbon? Or maybe it was one of the townsfolk with a complaint?

Bandana Dee took a peak into the room. King Dedede was talking to someone on the communication screen, which was turned away from Bandana Dee at the moment. Whoever was on the other end was silent as the King talked. King Dedede noticed him and waved him closer. Nervously, Bandana Dee complied, only to find Meta Knight on the other side, with Axe Knight to the side fiddling with controls and Captain Vul in the back having tea.

“Sir Meta Knight?” Asked Bandana Dee as he desperately looked between the Knight on the Screen and his King, hoping one of the two would explain.

“Hello,” greeted Meta Knight in his typical, short fashion.

King Dedede laughed as he patted Bandana Dee’s head. “Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing! We’ll be ready for you and your subordinates.”

Meta Knight nodded. “Very well. We will arrive before nightfall.” Without a goodbye, Meta Knight clicked off the communication. The screen cackled in static for a second before the Waddle Dee who brought the communication device over turned it off and began to carry it away.

Bandana Dee already had an idea from the talk about preparing rooms and arriving by nightfall, however he still turned to King Dedede for confirmation. “Your Majesty, why was Meta Knight calling?”

“Oh, y’know.” King Dedede stood up and stretched. “He and the rest of the Meta-Knights need a place to stay after the Halberd crash, so they are coming over here.”

“Tonight?”

“Yeah, you heard him. He’ll be here by nightfall.”

Bandana Dee stared at King Dedede. He wasn’t lying. Okay. Okay. There were 8 members of the Meta-Knights besides Meta Knight. They had 10 rooms that were close together on the third floor that could be readied within an hour at most, along with a spare kitchen and another room which could be converted to a sort of lounge area.

“Meta Knight would prefer that big room on the fourth floor.”

Bandana Dee looked up to his King, whom had spoken, in confusion. “But, Sire, we don’t have enough free rooms on the fourth floor for all of his crew.” Unless, of course, they put the Meta-Knights in a barracks, but that was unaccommodating.

“Yeah, I know.” King Dedede began to leave the room, so Bandana Dee followed behind. “Just give him the big room and put the rest of them on the third floor.”

“Would he like such a thing? Being a distance from his crew?”

“I think he needs a break from that lot sometimes.” King Dedede let out a chuckle. “We can just ask him when he gets here.” Bandana Dee nodded and made a mental note to ask Meta Knight. In the mean time, he would make preparations for the large room on the fourth floor, the set of rooms on the third floor and-

“What of dinner, Great King? How much do they eat? Have they any food restrictions? Will they be okay with the roast we are preparing for tonight, or do we need a new menu?”

“Hmm, quadruple the food and quintuple the desert!”

Bandana Dee pouted. “My King, I doubt they have that large an appetite.”

King Dedede rolled his eyes. “Then don’t ask me. Meta Knight didn’t tell me anything about any of that stuff.” They had arrived at the King’s bedroom. King Dedede entered with purpose, heading straight to his closet. Bandana Dee followed behind, uncertain. Should he tell the chefs to double the meal servings? Would that be enough? Or maybe triple it? Would that be too much? Should he add an abundance of appetizers, so as to minimize the chances of the Meta-Knights being unable to eat the food? Should he give orders to try to avoid common allergens and cross contamination, even if it would greatly slow food production?

King Dedede grabbed a telescope. It looked like it had been part of a pirate’s costume at some point, however as childish as it looked it was a powerful telescope with an impressive zoom. It had been what King Dedede had came in the room for, apparently, as he swiftly left with Bandana Dee right behind.

“For how long are they staying?”

With a noncommittal shrug, King Dedede kept marching on. “He said something about until his ship is hospitable.” That was a rather wide timeframe. Bandana Dee was unsure if they even brought the Halberd out from the ocean yet, how rare the parts for it were to find, and what the minimum livable hospitable level was too someone like Meta Knight.

Bandana Dee stopped when they neared the throne room. “My King?” King Dedede looked over his shoulder. “Is there anything else I should prepare? Any events or the like?”

King Dedede put a finger to his chin and hummed. “Y’know what? Prepare the lounge for board games. And Chess! I wanna see the look on that Meta Knights face when I destroy him.”

Bandana Dee bowed. “Of course, Sire.” Hurriedly, excited for Meta Knight’s arrival, King Dedede dashed off, telescope in hand.

A sigh escaped him. He let his tense body relax. There was no time for anxious thoughts, no time for doubts. There was only time for action.

Bandana Dee turned to the closest Waddle Dee, a guard Waddle Dee. “Waddle Dee, please send word for everyone except the King and those asleep to meet in the throne room in fifteen minutes.” The Waddle Dee saluted and ran to relay the message. It would spread by word of mouth throughout the castle. Swiftly, Bandana Dee entered the throne room to wait and plan out his exact orders.

Fifteen minutes later, a hoard of Waddle Dees stood in the throne room, awaiting Bandana Waddle Dees orders. He watched as one last Waddle Dee hurriedly entered, waited for them to get in their place, and then spoke.

“Sir Meta Knight, the honorable swordsman, and his loyal crew, the Meta-Knights, are planning on a stay in the castle. They shall arrive by nightfall, and stay for however long they need.”

Bandana Dee paused as the room erupted in excited chatter. It had been a while since they had guests of any type, and longer since they had anyone as notable as Meta Knight and his crew. After a moment, Bandana Dee cleared his throat, and the room was silent once again.

“For the cooks, please triple the servings of dinner tonight. You are dismissed so as to begin immediately.” A group of Waddle Dees ran from the room, heading to the kitchen. Was that the right decision? There was no time to backtrack.

“For the rest of us,” Bandana Dee clapped his hands, once. “We have work to do.”

The groups were quickly decided and given orders. 3 Waddle Dees per third floor bedroom. A larger group worked on the Kitchen and Lounge. A few Waddle Dees were sent to insure board games and chess boards would be available and ready to play at a moments notice. Some were sent to clean the hallways and stair well, some sent to shine the windows, some to launder the curtains, some to set up any amenities that needed to be. The only job Bandana Dee didn’t give out was preparing the fourth-floor bedroom. If he was confident in any thing, it was in his speed at cleaning a large area.

In a mere half hour, he had the fourth-floor bedroom dust free, with fresh linens on the bed. The wine-red curtains were drawn and windows open to let in the afternoon sun. The vanity, which doubled as a desk, was stocked full of papers, pens and envelopes in case Meta Knight needed to send a letter. The closet was kept clean and empty, ready for anything Meta Knight may bring; however, it also kept an extra weapon cleaning kit in the case any of his crew needed it. The bathroom was scrubbed, clean, and various soaps were placed throughout. It looked ready, hopefully.

Bandana Dee paused as he was pruning some of the plants that grew off the balcony. This was enough, right? But, what if? What if there was something he was forgetting? He looked back into the room. The carpet was plush and clean. The door handle was shined and rid of rust. The chandelier was free from cobwebs.

Snip! Bandana Dee scrambled as he accidentally beheaded one of the purple flowers. He was too distracted now. Gingerly, he plucked the flower off the ground and held it safely as he swept up the rest of the debris. He should just ask the Great King if there was anything else Meta Knight specified or asked for, like a place to store weapons or the like.

...

“Sire?”

“If this is another worry about Meta Knight, it better be the last one.”

“Why do you think Sir Meta Knight asked to stay here? It’s a surprising request, given the circumstances.”

“Probably has to do with his crew.”

Bandana Dee turned to King Dedede in surprise. He still looked bored, resting on his arm as he stared where the flower had disappeared. He continued with the thought, as though it was a simple conclusion to draw. “Well, he hasn’t been living in the village. Nobody there can keep a secret, they’d brag to anyone and everyone if Meta Knight was staying with them.”

Bandana Dee nodded. This was true, secrets in town rarely remained secrets. It was one of the reasons he tended to avoid the town when with Kirby.

King Dedede idly fixed his headpiece. “And there is no other settlement in walking range of the village. Yet, Meta Knight has somehow remained in the village area.” Yes, that was true, but Meta Knight could fly at incredible speeds. If he hadn’t known the rest of the crew, who were mostly flightless, were likely in a walking range of the village, he would question the King. Bandana Dee nodded.

“So that means they either fished out the Halberd and are living in that hunk of junk.” King Dedede paused in his talking to put the telescope to his eye again, looking over the path. “Or, they out there camping in the woods.”

“That makes sense to me, but that doesn’t explain why here, and why your Majesty believes it was his crew that asked.”

King Dedede made a move to answer and accidentally interrupted himself with a short laugh. “Well, I don’t know why here, but I will bet that it was Captain Vul who complained.”

“Sire!” Bandana Dee scolded.

“Gah! I can’t live like this!” Squawked King Dedede, imitating Captain Vul. “I need my beauty sleep!”

“That’s mean!” Bandana Dee scolded again, but it was hard to keep his voice stern. Giggles escaped despite covering his face.

King Dedede grinned triumphantly, “fine, fine. You got an idea?”

“Huh?”

“C’mon, Bandee! An idea about why Meta Knight wanted to stay here!”

“Um, well.” Bandana Dee stalled. Why indeed? “There aren’t many buildings large enough near here to accommodate so many people. Maybe Meta Knight didn’t want his crew separated?”

“Then why wouldn’t he just stay wherever he has been staying?”

Bandana Dee looked towards the forest in thought. A breeze blew through, shaking the trees, and Bandana could faintly hear them rustle like maracas. “Maybe, Meta Knight did it for his crew? They didn’t want to complain to him, but he noticed them being uncomfortable, and chose us because it was the best place?”

“Maybe,” answered King Dedede.

“Maybe, agreed Bandana Dee.

...

“So we can better prepare the food, do you know how much food you and the rest of the Meta-Knights eat per meal? Or any food preferences or accommodations?”

“Sorry, I wouldn’t know. That’s more Javelin’s thing. You should ask them. They’re the red one who flies about. Wish I could help more.”

“Oh, don’t worry, knowing who to ask is a big help!”

Sailor Dee scrunched his face in thought. “If it helps any, I can tell you that we like fresh fruits and a variety of teas.”

“Fresh fruits? Peaches, apples, pears and the like?”

Sailor Dee nodded. “Fresh fruit never lasts long enough on our journeys. And for the tea, we find lots of weird teas on other planets. It makes teatime more fun when we don’t know if the tea will be as spicier than superspicy curry.”

That did not sound fun. That sounded like torture! But Sailor seemed fine with it and Kirby was excited by the prospect. Bandana Dee decided he would chock this up to a cultural difference and see if anyone carried an odd sounding or tasting tea that could be ordered.

...

Even though he should have expected the doors to open, Bandana Dee still felt surprise run through him when they moved. In poured a blinding light, followed by Meta Knight. His presence felt larger than his stature. Between his smooth glide and piercing gaze, Bandana Dee nearly forgot about the Meta Knight who patiently taught Bandana Dee and Kirby in the arena. Captain Vul walked proudly behind Meta Knight at his right side. Sword and Blade came next, with stiff posture and a hand resting on their respective hilts. Behind them, barely visible because of those in front, the rest of the Meta-knights followed. Bandana Dee shivered. He resisted the urge to hid behind the throne, if only because he knew he would have to crawl from behind it eventually.

Kirby was apparently not as in awe in them as Bandana Dee was. “Hi, Meta Knight!” Lurching forward, Bandana Dee only had a moment to realize he was being pulled by Kirby before they ran across the throne room. Kirby launched himself towards Meta Knight, pressing his cheek against his mask, while refusing to release Bandana Dee. This was the closest he had been to the knight’s face. His mask had scratches all across it which was highlighted whenever Bandana Dees breath fogged the mask. Kirby was still hugging Meta Knight, who did not make any movement.”

Well, he was already here. Nothing could change that. “Hello, sir Meta Knight,” whispered Bandana Dee.

From here, Bandana Dee could hear a slight hum from Meta Knight before he responded. “Hello, Kirby, Bandana Waddle Dee.” His gloved hand emerged from behind his cape as he tapped Kirby twice. Kirby withdrew, though remained close while still holding Bandana Dee’s hand. During the hug Sailor Dee had wandered over, taking his place in the formation by Captain Vul’s side. It was no longer a rigid formation, as the Meta-knights had gathered around to stare at Kirby and Bandana Dee. How embarrassing.

Kirby’s hand slipped from his own as he was raised up. Miffed, King Dedede had marched over and was now holding Kirby in the air. Kirby didn’t look to be in pain, but still wiggled his limbs in an attempt to be released. “Oi! Didn’t I say to wait near the throne!?”

“I did!” Protested Kirby. “And then Meta Knight came in so I hugged him!”

“And greetings to you, King Dedede.” Meta Knight eyed Kirby in King Dedede’s grasp. It seemed as through he too was making sure Kirby was uninjured.

“Welcome to Castle Dedede, Meta Knight.”

Kirby was dropped, bounced with a giggle, then landed on his feet. “Now that Meta Knight is here we can start the sleepover! We’ll List of what Bandee said.” Bandana Dee grabbed Kirby’s hand and tugged, like that would calm him down.

“Eh? Marshmallows?” King Dedede loudly guffawed. “You are thinking too small! Hotdogs!”

“You’re thinking too small! Steaks!”

To Bandana Dee’s horror, King Dedede and Kirby began to argue about hypothetical food to roast over a hypothetical fire and quickly began to ignore what would realistically be good over a fire for whatever food they were craving at the moment. The Meta-knights still stared.

“Our apologies.” Bandana Dee gave a small bow to their guests before tugging on King Dedede’s robe. He loomed above him. “If you would follow us, we would love to escort you to the rooms we have prepared.”

...

It was times like these that Bandana Dee wished he was cantankerous. He would snap and throw a large fit until he got his way, which was to go back into his thick, fuzzy blankets. But no. Bandana Dee was polite through and through and, despite the intrusive thoughts, he only gave an exhausted look to King Dedede.

...

He saw Meta Knight’s stance change minutely, training sword lowered slightly, before his vision blurred. Oh why now?

“I’m sorry.” Bandana Dee sniffled and wiped the tears out of his eyes. “I cry too easily. I’m only a little frustrated.”

Meta Knight remained still, his training sword now pointing to the ground. He raised one hand, hesitated like he said not to do, then reached out and offered an unsure head pat.

“There, there?” He sounded so uncertain. That uncomfortable uncertainty was so out of place on Meta Knight that nervous laughter bubbled within Bandana Dee.

With a breath to calm himself, Bandana Dee gently wiped away his tears again and blinked. “My apologies, I believe I need a moment.”

Meta Knight wrapped himself with his cloak. “By all means.”

[artificialqueens]

🏳️‍🌈 You Call My Name, What a Strange Magic (Halldoll) - Mar

A/N: Day 28 of Mayhem: Farmer’s Market

Nicky’s magic flows like rivers in her veins, calm and constant.The way Jaida says her name is a tidal wave that lifts her off the ground and sends her heart spinning.Strange, strange magic.

Tags for @duckprintspress: rpdr fanfiction, may trope mayhem, jaida essence hall, nicky doll, jaida x nicky, magic au

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47698924

______________________________________________________________________

The witch sprays the budding flowers with river water, and they gratefully unfurl their petals. They sway in their pots, gleaming under the sun and grabbing the attention of every passerby in the farmer’s market. They are Nicky’s pride and joy.

An older gentleman leans down and adjusts his glasses to see them better.

“How much for a flower?”

“A childhood dream, or a poem to a lover.”

“Ah, when I was little I wanted to be a train. Not a train conductor, mind you– the whole thing!”

“Really?” Nicky says fascinated, jotting it all down in ink, blotting the page with how fast she is writing. Stupid witch protocols and their aversion to pens.

“Yes,” the man says with a smile as he looks far into the distance. His memories float in thick purple clouds from his mouth to Nicky’s pen. “I wanted to travel long distances and bring people to their loved ones, and I wanted those loved ones to chase after me as I pulled out of the station, waving goodbye until we were just a spot in the distance.”

“That was a good dream,” Nicky says, smiling brightly at the gentleman. She sets down the last dot after the words and the ink glimmers in the paper before settling down. She picks carefully between her flowers, and finds the perfect one for this man. “Here, take it home. Tell it all your worries in the morning, and all your glories at night. It will take it all, good and bad, and it will grow.”

“Bless you,” says the man. He tips his hat goodbye.

A teen shows up not long after, hair dyed the same color as the only flower left. They wave at the flower and the flower waves its leaves.

“Hi! Is this cutie for sale?” says the teen, swaying to the rhythm of the flower.

“Yes, and it looks like it likes you,” Nicky says with pleasure. She only sends her flowers to the best homes.

“I like you too,” the teen says to the flower. “How much?”

“A childhood dream, or a poem to a lover.”

“Oh, man, I’m not much of a poet… and I don’t remember my childhood. Do you take, like, any coin? Like silver or bronze? Crypto?”

Nicky sighs. The exchange rates are brutal, but so many humans insist on using money.

“I can leave it at twenty dollars, plus the warmth of the sun in your face.”

“Deal!”

The teen ruffles through their backpack and puts two crumpled ten dollar bills in Nickys hands, plus some loose candy they find, as a tip. Nicky beckons them closer. She holds their cheeks, chants the words, and watches their cheeks go from rosy to pale, their lips from pink to blue.

“T-that’s c-c-colder than I th-thought,” they say through chattering teeth.

“It goes back to normal in just a few moments, I promise,” Nicky reassures them with a twinge of pity. She gets a stone out of a thermo box and holds it tightly between her hands. The stone absorbs all the warmth. “Stay in the sun for some minutes, and I always recommend a hot coffee,” she says, pointing to the coffee cart at the end of the aisle. “If you tell the girl that the witch sent you, you’ll get a discount,” she winks.

“Sick, thanks,” says the teen, already looking less blue.

They pick up the flower with great care, and they are off.

With the very last of her flowers sold, Nicky begins to clear out her stand. It is so early that she can take a turn around the whole market and be home by sundown. She needs herbs, honey, and questions voiced by children, and she needs time to gather enough courage to visit the coffee cart.

Some days, she has to avoid it entirely and leave the market through the other side. Some days, when she gets close to it, her heart beats loud as a battle drum and all of the squirrels around the park climb down from the trees, hypnotized, and march in a long row after Nicky, scaring the shoppers. Nicky has been told before that, if she can’t get a hold of her powers, they won’t let her rent the stand anymore.

She feels more confident today, however, languid and weakened from the new moon, and her magic is easier to constrain. She takes her sweet time shopping around and not a single squirrel joins her. She takes the offered samples and pretends to eye the products that may be knit blankets or clay pots or wooden toys for all she knows. The coffee cart holds all of her attention.

Nicky steadies her breaths and her magic flows calmly through her veins, constant as a river. There are some people chatting in front of the cart, waiting for their orders, enveloped in the condensation their words form in the cold. It blends with the steam from their coffees, warm as the smile of the girl who’s passing them out. Nicky’s chest burns like a small sun.

The cart is painted a neat white that stands out among the wooden market stalls, and the name is written on the front in elegant cursive letters that Nicky has found herself copying in the margins of her potions books.

Essence

Nicky walks up and the owner welcomes her yelling.

“Nickay!” Jaida screams, twisting the last vowel of her name until it becomes an entirely new sound.

Multilingualism and verbal spells have made Nicky particularly sensitive to sounds. In her second year at the witch academy, one of her classmates tried to bring a chair closer with the accedo spell, but she accidentally said accendo and lit the whole thing on fire. Nothing like watching someone get their eyebrows burned off to learn the importance of phonetics.

When Jaida pronounces her name in that unique way, it’s like Nicky has an entirely new name that belongs to Jaida alone. It feels like a type of magic. That would certainly explain the radiant happiness that manifests in Nicky’s heart at such a simple word. She tampers it down and tries to sound casual.

“Ça va, Jaida? Easy day?”

“Slow day,” Jaida sighs in a low voice, just for Nicky. “I’m dying of boredom out here. Nothing but cappuccinos all day, a girl can only do so many cappuccinos, Nicky! Look at this,” she says, putting a bag of marshmallows in Nicky’s face. “I got these to make hot chocolates, and I haven’t made a single one,” she pouts, making Nicky melt.

“Well, but now you have them for tomorrow, right?”

“I’ve already downed half the bag. You want one?”

Nicky laughs and accepts a marshmallow out of politeness, immediately regretting it when her fingers get all sticky. By the time she finishes it, masking her disgust, Jaida has eaten three more.

“Alright, enough,” Jaida scolds herself with her mouth full, putting the bag away. “What about you? You done already?”

Nicky nods.

“The flowers sell very quickly. I almost cannot keep up.”

“How long does it take to grow them?”

“It takes some weeks. They grow faster in the winter, because I leave the sprouts by the fireplace and they love that. They’re inside plants, you know? They want to be cozy and hear people talk around them. The hard part is that I have to spend so much time inside with them, because they don’t grow if they don’t hear human voices.”

“Girl, leave them with me for a day, I’ll give them back six feet tall. Ain’t nobody quiet in my house.”

“Don’t offer twice, I would love to drop them off somewhere and have a free day.”

“Is there any money in the flower nanny business?”

“Jaida’s daycare for magical flowers?”

“Jaida’s kinder-garden!”

Nicky lets out an undignified snort at the joke which she covers by coughing.

Jaida smiles and leans on her elbows on the counter, closer to Nicky.

“So like, do the flowers speak any language?”

“They should understand every human language, in theory, but I haven’t tested them a lot. I’ve only tried French, English, Latin, Greek, Darija, and ehh, Catalan… and some Spanish.”

“Oh, only those. Pretty shoddy scientific work, Nicky. That will never pass the board.”

“Well, luckily, the board is just me.”

“Paper written by Nicky for Nicky, peer reviewed by Nicky from the Nicky council of Nickys.”

It’s so silly, but Jaida’s voice makes Nicky giggle the more she talks, and she has to rein it in before she attracts another flock of common loons. They’re not even native to the area, but it has happened before. Jaida made a stupid pun and a murmuration of birds obscured the sky, swirling over Nicky’s head and mimicking her laughter. The flock followed her all the way home. They wreaked havoc on her garden.

“Oh, I was gonna ask,” Jaida says, “do you have any more of that cream you gave me for joint pain? It’s so good, I finished the sample already.”

“Did it help?” Nicky says with a luminous smile.

The cart’s light bulbs over their heads shine dangerously bright in a spike of electricity. Jaida looks at them with worry, but Nicky hides her teeth and the light goes back to normal.

“I better unplug these for a minute,” Jaida says.

The cart gets a little dimmer, though still warm in the gray evening. Nicky leans on the counter like Jaida to see her better.

“What was I telling you…” Jaida asks, squinting her eyes. “The cream, yeah. Yes, it was crazy good. I swear that every winter brings some new ache, and this year it was my knuckles’ turn.”

She flexes her fingers with a pained expression, and Nicky already knows how she’ll be spending her evenings the next few days.

“I can make more by Wednesday,” Nicky says.

Monday, if I don’t sleep.

“Really? You’re incredible!”

Her aching hands take Nicky’s with no warning. Thank God Jaida unplugged the lights, or the glass bulbs would have exploded over them. She’s pretty sure the streetlights are getting brighter.

“Of course,” Nicky says, clearing her throat.

She takes back her hands and rubs one over her heart in circles. Counterclockwise, like she was taught, like she does with scared wild animals or sick babies who enter her hut crying in their mothers’ arms, needing to be soothed before they can be healed.

She needs to soothe herself before she can make the offer.

“If you want,” she says when her heartbeat settles down, “I can do a quick lay-on-hands. It’s not as good as the cream, but it lasts almost a day.”

“Really?” Jaida says excitedly. “What’s that, like a massage?”

“Something like it, yes.”

Nicky sets her hands on the counter with the palms up in invitation. Jaida gives her hand with unquestioned trust, and Nicky is so grateful for the complete ease that has marked all of their interactions since they first met. Many humans are wary of her, and some brave souls have even tried to attack her, but not Jaida. Since the very first day, she has only shown curiosity and admiration for Nicky’s craft. Nicky treasures that trust, and repays it whenever she can. Like now.

“Where does it hurt the most?”

“The knuckles, mostly. My wrists kind of crack at night, like a little old lady’s.”

“Okay, relax your hand,” Nicky instructs. Jaida lets her hand rest entirely on hers.

Nicky presses her thumbs on Jaida’s wrist. She closes her eyes. For the first time since she approached Jaida’s cart, she sets her magic free.

It flows from the depths of her mind to her throat, piling incantations on her tongue that she has to swallow down, because it is not the time for words. The magic moves down her arms, burning pleasantly in her palms, and finally reaches her thumbs. When it brushes Jaida’s skin, it recoils.

“This is where the problem is,” Nicky says as she opens her eyes and digs her thumb in the middle of Jaida’s wrists, right on her pulse. It picks up under Nicky’s touch. Jaida must be excited to watch the whole process; she has always shown herself fascinated with magic. “Your body has its own healing energy that flows through your veins. There is something blocking it here,” she runs her thumb over the wrist, “which is why your hand is not curing– healing, I mean. Relax again.”

With some effort, Nicky makes her magic seep through Jaida’s skin. Two paint strokes of radiant blue flow from her thumbs into Jaida’s bloodstream, and although they bump against the blockage, Nicky pushes through and they both see how the magic traces blue rivers down Jaida’s hand and fingers. The beautiful blue glows a dazzling white for a second, and then it is over.

“Can you move your fingers?” Nicky asks in a gentle voice.

Jaida flexes her fingers one by one, entranced.

“That’s wild…” Jaida says, a little breathless. “It doesn’t even hurt, you– you are incredible.”

“It’s just a mid-level transmutation,” Nicky says, trying with all her might to keep her cheeks from turning pink. “Any witch can do that.”

“Are you fucking with me? Nicky, you made literal magic. Let me be impressed,” Jaida urges, squeezing Nicky’s hand.

The gesture could trigger a reaction if Nicky wasn’t entirely captivated by the way Jaida is looking at her. That too, Nicky has learned over time, is its own type of magic.

“Do you want to give me your other hand?” Nicky says, just to have something to say.

Jaida nods and only looks away from Nicky’s eyes to watch the blue rivers form under her skin again.

“Are you gonna let me pay you this time?” Jaida says when they are done and she can flex her fingers painlessly.

Nicky refused to charge her for the cream, using the excuse that it was a sample. Samples don’t usually last for a month, but oh well. Nicky never claimed to be a business woman.

“No, we never charge for this.” When she sees that Jaida is about to argue, she adds: “It is bad luck to heal for money.”

Jaida squints her eyes.

“I don’t believe you.”

“It is bad luck to lie,” Nicky says, biting her tongue.

“You’re just saying whatever, now,” Jaida says, and pushes Nicky’s shoulder. A hard feat, with the counter between them, but Nicky still lets herself be moved by Jaida’s force.

Nicky would like to stay there until the sun sets and the last of the stands is cleared, but she has plants back home waiting for their bedtime story, and ingredients to gather and macerate in oil if she wants to get that cream done in time.

In spite of Nicky’s protests, Jaida sends her home with a tall cup of free coffee made exactly to her taste and a honey-apple roll so fragrant that it fills Nicky’s house with its scent when she leaves it half eaten on her kitchen table. The sweetness and warmth of the drink pools in Nicky’s stomach, and every step home feels like she’s walking on air. For a short second, Nicky wonders if Jaida is hiding powers of her own. But Nicky understands her own heart too well. She knows what is happening, and she knows what kind of magic it is.

The flowers grow heart shaped leaves and pink petals that night, dulcified by the honey in Nicky’s voice. When she takes them to the market on Monday, they are all gone in an hour. Nicky sets one aside, and takes the flower and a tub of healing cream to the cart at the end of the aisle.

Pride Challenge Points: 385

[star-maiden-fufu]

Miku with flowers

~~

i tested rendering and drawing on one layer since ive never really tried it

ill admit myself that it maybe hasnt really been properly rendered, a lot of it is still really flat :'D but i tried. the hair ribbons and flowers came out the best in the experiment really

used Miku as a subject cos she's cute and has a simple shape to work with. outfit isnt based on anything to my knowledge, i just chose simple colours for the sake of the practise

[enterpris]

An Education in Attraction, Chapter 5

Pairing: Reader x Gojo

Summary: It's spring when you start your Master's degree. As the flowers and leaves unfold, so too do your feeling for Gojo

Warnings: Light swearing (1x)

Previous Chapters: 1 2 3 4

Ao3: PlaidSparrow

After class on Wednesday, you walk with Kuzume and Saito across the campus.

“I think we should try the Gyudon Restaurant this weekend,” you say. It had just opened and one of the other teachers at the Eikaiwa school had raved about it to you last week.

“Ooo and then we can go out for drinks after!” You’ve learned that Kuzume subscribes to a ‘work hard, play hard’ mentality about the trials of grad school. 

“Could you make it after your lesson?” Saito asks as the three of you cross the street.

Instead of another session in the library, your group wanders into the botanic gardens and settles near some hydrangea shrubs just putting their buds out. The spot is further in, where you can just barely see the path and pond through the greenery. The May sun is a gentle caress, warm and sweet on your face, and a soft breeze leaves ripples in its wake on the surface of the pond.

“I can make it for dinner, as long as we don’t stay out too late,” you say. “I haven’t started next week’s reading yet.”

"The next chapter is so long," Kuzume huffs, "and it's being assigned with two other sections! They could at least schedule them one by one."

"And there's more in Learning Theories," Saito adds. 

“Shit, I almost forgot about that. There’s so much to do.” 

You sigh. You're still getting back into the rhythm of being a student again, and even with your days planned out, it’s easy to get worn out. Between the sheer volume of reading assigned and planning lessons for your own students, each day is a little overwhelming. 

Kuzume leans back on her elbows and looks up at the foliage. “Maybe I should have stuck with just playing the guitar. I am not looking forward to all the music theory assignments I’ll have to grade.”

“All subjects have tons of grading,” Saito waves her hand. “At least you’ll have some practical learning to break things up. I’ll be scoring essays forever.”

“I think lesson planning takes way longer than grading. But at least you can recycle some lessons,” you say.

“That’s true.” Saito runs her fingers through the soft grass in front of her. "At least there's no group work in Learning Theories. I can’t believe the professors assign such a large Curriculum project in our first term-"

Kuzume gasps. "I haven't even asked you yet!" She faces you and stares at you intently. "How are things going with Gojo?"

“Um,” You're not entirely sure how to answer that question. Both of the times you’d worked together outside of class Gojo had acted rudely, but you’re hesitant to say so. Even though he was the one acting poorly, it would be embarrassing to admit how he’d treated you. In class on Monday and Tuesday you’d resolutely ignored him, and you had resolved to work solo as much as possible to avoid any further insult. You look down at the grass to buy yourself a couple seconds to think.

 "He hasn’t really wanted to talk much. It hasn’t been going as well as I’d hoped." 

Saito's eyebrows raise. "Really?"

“Yea, he was honestly pretty rude the last time we met. He went out of his way to question my abilities and to tell me he’s finished two Master's already.”

"That’s awful! You wouldn’t think he’d need to show off with all he’s done.” 

"What else has he done?" You ask. 

“Maybe he just has a big head. I mean, if I was that gorgeous and smart too, I would be unstoppable,” Kuzume cuts in and laughs as the dappled sun falls on her face.

Saito answers your question. “He’s published a few papers and scientific studies. Gojo’s work is supposed to be pretty experimental and exciting, at least that’s what my father says. He’s a professor in the Physics department of the University and raves about Gojo’s work.”

Both girls are looking at you curiously now, and Kuzume's eyes shine as she leans towards you. They both seem to know a lot about him, and you feel behind. 

“His whole family are famous doctors and scientists. They’ve won awards and some have studied here. I think the University has a hall or something named in their honor.” Kuzume says. 

"Oh." You had no idea he'd done so much. You stare out through the branches at the water and reflect on what you know about him- admittedly it’s not a lot. He’s been aloof in your meetings and you haven’t really talked to him about anything outside academics.

“I didn’t know any of that,” you finish lamely. 

Kuzume and Saito look at each other. You are behind. The sun suddenly feels too warm on your face. A bird caws in the background and you hear another group of students walking past on the path- everything is grating on your nerves. 

“He’s just got a big reputation. He’s spoken on campus and at some of the other nearby universities in the past.” Saito says.

This is a lot to take in. You’d honestly figured Gojo just didn’t want to be paired with you, but if his academic prowess is common knowledge on campus, perhaps he wouldn’t want to be paired with anyone. Maybe he thinks I’m going to make him do all the work. You remember all of the fuss the first day of classes and things click.

“Wait, just how well known is he? Is that why people acted so wild on the first day?” If he’s getting hounded all the time or receives whispers every time he enters a room, you can see why he wouldn’t want to spend much time socializing. 

“Umm, well he’s pretty well known on campus. He completed one of his prior graduate programs here, so a lot of the professors are familiar with him.” Saito says. 

“And you’ve seen how handsome he is, so a lot of students know him too. He’s got kind of a reputation for being standoffish, but I was hoping you’d be able to get close to him with the project.” Kuzume frowns down at the grass.  

“God.” You lay back on the grass. At least you know more about your partner now- it should make working with him the rest of the term easier.

“No wonder he acts so weird.”

Kuzume and Saito laugh at that and the conversation drifts back to schoolwork. The workload of this particular program is more than any of you were really expecting, but the two girls beside you have made planning and studying bearable. You’re listening to your friends' complaints, but Gojo sits in the back of your mind like an itch you can’t quite reach. 

~*~

By the end of the week you are very ready for a break. 

You wake and go over your mental checklist for the weekend as you change and get ready. You’ve got to: finish another paper for Curriculum Design, read two more chapters in your Learning Theories class, and do an afternoon shift at the Eikaiwa school on Saturday. Sunday you've intentionally left unscheduled, hoping to catch some tv and let your brain rest. 

You trudge to class and gingerly slide into your usual seat next to Kuzume. Outside of the trip to the botanic gardens, you had reviewed course notes with her and Saito twice in the last week to keep abreast of all the assignments. She offers you a weak smile and you nod. You’re not the only one feeling drained from the weight of grad school responsibilities. 

Your professor enters and starts the lecture- today you’ll have a class discussion on workload expectations during the summer. It feels like an enormous topic to tackle on a Friday, and you hold in a sigh. 

Although there is a palpable tiredness in the room that wasn’t there at the beginning of the term, as you survey the room your classmates appear to be fully engaged in the professor’s description as she sets up the discussion. Gojo always seems to stand out. Besides his striking black outfits and ever-present shades, you've noticed he doesn't participate in class like your peers. He only shares if it's required, and neither lectures nor discussions seem to engage him. Not that you've been paying him any special attention.

You have noticed that he misses class a lot though. Besides being absent from half the first week, he's been gone from at least a class period the past two weeks as well. You're curious about how it will affect your project, even if you’re not writing with Gojo regularly. Usually schools don't allow this many absences. 

The professor concludes her introduction and gestures for the students of the class to share their experiences with summer homework. 

While extensive projects and assignments are commonplace during the short summer break in the Japanese school year, you rarely had anything to do over the summer except explore the neighborhood with your friends and wake up at 11am. Maybe you had a reading assignment due over the summer in high school, but it wasn’t really comparable to the in-depth learning common in the Japanese education system.

You’re likely the only one in the room who didn’t complete their high school in Japan.

Thankfully, your professor started on the opposite side of the classroom, so you have time to think. You comb your mind, trying to recall if there was ever a big, time intensive project you had to complete between grades. You're coming up blank. 

The first class you taught when you moved to Japan was during the summer. It's been years since you worked with that group, but you try to remember what students had said about their homework assignments. There had been complaints about book reports and worksheets. 

The man to your right just finished sharing his experience. You didn’t hear a word that he said and worse, you don’t have anything prepared for what you should say. The attention of the room has shifted to you already, so you’ll have to give it your best go. 

“Um, I don’t have personal experience with summer assignments. They aren’t very common in the United States between grades. Some parents do homeschooling, but most American students kind of take the summer off. It’s more play time than academic.”

Heat floods your cheeks. You can’t help but feel you’ve embarrassed yourself in front of the whole class. You swallow and turn to give your attention to Kuzume. She meets your eyes and gives you a small smile. It feels more like a lifeline. Her answer is an elegant recollection about a research project she completed in her third year of high school. 

The other students in the room finish sharing and your professor dives into details of the different kinds of assignments. You take some notes and resolve to ask Kuzume or Saito more about their experiences. The three of you had gotten close in these last few weeks.

Your mind is working, thinking about how else you can learn more about traditional summer assignments. You don’t even notice that Gojo’s gaze is stuck intently on you.

[hannah-heartstrings]

I've never liked writing character descriptions and so I usually just don't, but that's no way to improve so I've started practicing them.

For some reason I've always found them really awkward to write, especially if it's a whole paragraph about what they look like. But! I realized I could use that to my advantage. If it's from the pov of someone starting to crush on the character I'm describing, then it either feels less awkward or the awkwardness helps the scene.

Basically, I have a thiefguard snippet.

@druidx @babyblueetbaemonster @inkysqueed

---------

            Lecrinn drummed her fingers along the bridge rail as she stared out over the river. As Garrus leaned his arms on the rail beside her, she looked to him, the intended quick glance pausing.

            Sunlight glinted red off his brown hair, she hadn’t noticed before that it was more chestnut, like a lighter version of hers.

            All she could’ve told you about him before was that he was a tall buff imperial, brown hair, round face. She hadn’t noticed before the red tint to his hair or its loose waves, or the stubble across his chin and cheeks, or the green hiding in his light brown eyes.

            Those eyes turned to her, narrowing slightly in confusion. “Is something wrong?”

            It struck her that she’d been staring at him. “No,” she quickly looked forward, “I was just…” What was she doing? “You have something in your hair,” motions quick and nervous, she glanced to him, brushed her hand across his hair, and looked away. “There I got it.”