#juvenile/glory

[an-inspired-eternity]

Shuffle AU Summary

These are the groups of my PRSK Unit Shuffle AU! They each loosely correspond to the genre of the groups in official PRSK, but naturally with more of their own styles and spins.

Different group set-ups means different dynamics, and while some canon dynamics remain (or are even strengthened), not every one will take the same form, if they remain at all.

Under the cut, I will send their logos and give some additional info as needed! Note that I have.. more developed for some of these guys than others.

First, Juvenile/Glory! J/G is a kind of a rock band (I am not in this kind of music scene, bear with me a little bit sghfdfh), initially formed by Airi and Ichika, Airi ends up dragging Ena and later Akito into playing/performing with them.

Airi meets Ichika at Miyajou, and ends up befriending the somewhat shy girl. She learns of how Ichika once had a dream of being in a band with her childhood friends, but explains they all drifted apart so she never got the chance. 

Upon hearing this, Airi proposes the two form a band together, it might not be with her childhood friends, but this is better than nothing right? To get more numbers, Airi ends up inviting her long-time friend Ena, who bitches and moans but ultimately agrees to at least try (even if she laments having to change her classes and sleep schedule.) 

It’s during their first practice sessions that something changes- the group suddenly find themselves the ability to access a new world- their SEKAI, a underground metro type areas with shop stalls- and gorgeous wall art that stuns Ena, it inspires her to keep up with the occasional art piece. 

The three are doing well, but they find something’s.. missing, in their band, particularly vocally- not that any of them were bad singers, it just felt like there was a kind of sound missing from them that none of them could fulfill. That’s when Airi had the suggestion for Ena to invite her brother to sing with them.

Ena, once again, bitches and moans at the idea of having to work with her brother, but Airi is stubborn and insistent, so she eventually gives in and asks Akito. Akito also bitches and moans, but once again, Airi is relentless, so he offers to try. That’s when things begin to click together for the group. Akito had experience with music but had ultimately not gotten as far as he did here than he did with canon due to being less invested in Rad Weekend and also having never met Toya. The two siblings bicker a lot at first, but end up finding they enjoy having something to do together that their dad can’t ruin.

(Akito was technically to their SEKAI first but ala those dream visits in the main story prologues, and only properly got introduced to it later from Ena and/or Airi bringing him.)

J/G’s main vocaloids, Miku not withstanding, are Rin and Meiko! Intentionally pulling from VBS here, I don’t have much in mind for the J/G vocaloids at this time, although I do think Akito’s relationship with the Kagamines here is similar to that of canon Akito with the VBS Kagamines, something Ena is very entertained by.

Second up we have SWEET SYNDROME! SS is a idol group, half composed of newcomers and half composed of veterans- starting as a pair with Emu and Honami, they ended up taking Mafuyu and Shizuku in, forming a proper group.

Emu and Mafuyu met as young children, when Mafuyu got lost on a trip with her mom to PXL. Emu found the lost Mafuyu on her own, and with the help of her older family members, she helped Mafuyu to reunite with her mother.

Mafuyu’s mom was angry at first, for Mafuyu wandering off- but realized the one who had found her was the daughter of the rich and highly influential family that ran the park. Thinking that this would be good both for her own image, as well as the family being a possible good influence for her daughter, she allowed the two to remain friends.

Mafuyu ended up being entered into many child pageants at a young age, a early exposure to stardom. Once she got older, her mother began working to get Mafuyu into a idol agency, where Mafuyu could gain fame as a beautiful and elegant young lady, just how her mother raised her. Mafuyu lost sight of what who her true self and tastes were, molded by her mom to be the perfect girl her agency would want.

Emu and Mafuyu had grown a little apart during all of this, but Emu still treasured her friendship with Mafuyu, and as Mafuyu became an idol- she admired her. Less familiar with the darkness happening backstage, Emu had begun training and auditioning to become an idol in hopes of maybe getting to make people smile just like her dear friend- maybe even getting to do so together, too!

It wasn’t easy, she found she wasn’t what a lot of people were searching for. But she kept trying! And trying! And eventually while she was practicing during a break period at school, she was approached by her classmate Honami, who asked about what she was doing, and upon being told, if she could join too. Thus the two girls had become a pair.

Honami’s help had been deeply needed, as with the two now working together, they decided to start their own group- albeit a small one not capable of much. But word got to Mafuyu, and Emu explained what she had wanted- to sing and dance for people to make them smile just like her! And something stirred in Mafuyu, feelings the girl thought herself incapable of still having.

That was the key to their SEKAI- a museum that framed idols in a bit of a dark view, like they were only something to stare at and admire with no free choice of their own. Emu didn’t like it, she didn’t agree with that idea of what being an idol meant. Idols are supposed to make people happy, and that includes other idols! 

It’s this thought process that helps them additionally reach Mafuyu’s school friend and felllow idol Shizuku. Shizuku had been close to giving up on being a idol herself due to the pressure and how unliked she felt for being “too perfect”, but the positivity of Emu and Honami had encouraged her to not give up, and thus Shizuku becomes the third member of SWEET SYNDROME.

Mafuyu’s mother was their biggest opponent, holding a growing distaste for the way the youngest Otori child had never seemed to grow out of her childish demeanor, but where she “failed”, her older siblings grew into mature responsible adults, people who could be good influence to her daughter and maybe send their youngest sister onto their respectable path instead.

But the group made their attempt, an effort to please Mafuyu’s mom in order to allow Mafuyu to work with them. She was very hesitant to allow Mafuyu to join, given her less than great feelings towards Emu- but her view of Shizuku and Honami, two more “mature and responsible” figures in the group, softened her resolve, and ultimately lead to her agreeing to the group’s formation.

SS’ main and only starting virtual singer is Miku. A quiet and somewhat odd version of the Virtual Singer, who clung to Mafuyu’s side a lot, but otherwise mostly kept to herself at first- occasionally leaving the main area of the museum to sit alone on the stage and sing to herself.

Third on the roster we have Spring CIRCUIT! A live show/street music group.. and also admittedly the one I’ve developed the least. The group was formed, a bit shakily, by Nene and Kohane, having witnessed one of Shiho and Haruka’s performances. It’s also something of a second chance, for Nene and Haruka. 

Haruka, after quitting ASRUN, found she had missed singing, and ended up looking into alternative activities she could enjoy- and found the similar-but-different-enough world of live shows. Through this as well, she met a classmate from Miyajou, Shiho, who had been doing solo shows on her own. They realized they had similar interests (plushies lmao) and something of a friendship and partnership formed.

Kohane, like in canon, was a bit of a drifter, not quite having any activity she could commit herself to, and Nene had been fearful to return to being on stage in any capacity since the incident from when she was in younger- going as far to deny her childhood best friend’s offer to join the more private group he’d formed.

But fate ended up bringing these two together, having been out on errands when they came across a venue mid live-show, with Shiho and Haruka performing on stage. It sparked something in them both- Kohane a urge to try singing and live shows, and Nene a urge to sing again- even if not in a play. 

Shiho was quick to bounce and go on her way- not one for small talk, but Nene and Kohane had the chance to talk with Haruka, in which the pair both came to her about their newfound inspiration- and also subsequently realized they both had been inspired. 

Haruka had given them a light warning about Shiho’s distant cold and demeanor, explaining she’s nicer than she appears, but that she has to warm up to you first. Past that however, Haruka was willing to work with and train them- and it was at this moment their SEKAI appeared- a large expansive arcade within it was a chill Miku and a strong aura’d but otherwise very polite Luka- who had a taste for photography that she and Kohane were quick to bond over.

It takes a bit, for Shiho to warm up to these new members Haruka picked up. Nene finds herself struggling to gain the courage to sing with all her heart again- but seeing how hard Kohane, a complete newcomer to all this, is trying, it inspires her. She’s done this before, she can do it again. That’s how the two manage to impress Shiho, and the group finaly becomes a full quartet.

Fourth on the list and second to last is Echo-Show! A theater troupe situated at the Wonder Stage of PXL! Run by Tsukasa, this group was formed along the way by Tsukasa’s basically sibling figures he collected along the way.

It starts with a hospital- specifically, a hospital housing Saki Tenma and a Mr. Yoisaki. Tsukasa, ever the dutiful older brother, visited his sister whenever he could afford to- but during one such trip, he met a odd girl. Her silver hair seemed to reach to her knees, the girl clearly hadn’t been doing well- physically or mentally.

Tsukasa quickly got to what he did best- making people happy. He doesn’t quite get a laugh, but the girl smiles, and he considers that a win. Tsukasa introduced himself, and the girl introduced herself back in turn- saying that her name was Kanade and that her only living parent was in a coma- something Tsukasa offered his condolences for. 

The two became friends, and Tsukasa found himself visiting and checking on Kanade every so often. (In addition to Honami being Kanade’s housekeeper). Later on, Tsukasa had finally gotten his chance to form a troupe, having auditioned and been hired to perform at a small stage in PXL called the Wonder Stage, courtesy of the youngest Otori daughter. 

Tsukasa found himself a bit.. shit out of luck in regards to actors. His sister had been scooped up already- but he turned to his brother figure, Toya- Toya had recently defied his father, quitting classical music and looking for his own thing he wanted to do. Tsukasa reached out to Toya, asking if he wanted to join his troupe. 

Toya was a bit nervous, not having ever really been part of the shows Tsukasa put on for him and Saki as kids, but he wanted to give it a try. Plus he thought it would be something his dad would hate, which was a spiteful little bonus for him. This was one more addition to Tsukasa’s crew, but he didn’t think just the two of them was enough to work with, so he reached out to Kanade- who had become something of a sister to him.

Kanade vehemently did not want to perform on stage at first, but Tsukasa was understanding enough to say they’d start small in anything physical so that Kanade could work her body strength up. She could also help with any technological stuff behind the scenes as well- which is something she’d enjoy doing a lot more.

Their first test show wasn’t a huge hit (but not QUITE to the disastrous level of WXS’ first show LMAO), however it did attract the attention of one Minori Hanasato, who ends up being really into the show and their ideas behind it. Tsukasa, ever the resourceful one, basically scoops Minori up into the troupe.

There were.. incidents, involving the start of their fully formed troupe- Toya taking extra blame on himself and thinking he was bringing the group down, backing away for a while. (IE: the whole thing in the VBS main story where Toya questions his own resolve and Akito has to chase him down and prove otherwise.)

Last, but certainly not least (I would know, they’re the favorite child of this AU.) is House of Outcasts! A group youtube channel dedicated to doing skits and plays online. (Inspirationally I was thinking of both Starkid, as well as the Man On The Internet channel- or rather a less specifically gaming centered version of them). 

The group starts with Rui and Mizuki, two lonely souls who connected in middle school over their shared isolation and disconnect from their peers. Deemed too "weird" to fit in amongst them. This friendship carries into Mizuki’s first year and Rui’s second year of high school- Rui having recently transferred to Kamikou to get away from a suffocating prestigious school he’d been at for his first year.

Rui had his solo live shows he’d try every so often, but the story begins when Rui comes to visit Mizuki and show them the most recent idea he had- Mizuki finds themselves very impressed, and explains that with their abilities in editing software, they could probably post Rui’s show online and get decent publicity with it.

So Rui and Mizuki end up forming their group- and after a bit of time Rui offers to Mizuki that they could perform with him, if they were comfortable doing so. Mizuki is hesitant at first, afraid that people online would be judgemental, but gives it a try and finds that not only is it more fun than they thought- but most people watching didn’t seem to care.

That’s when their SEKAI appeared. A rooftop building underneath a fantastical sky of stars and the moon- a light energy not unlike a child’s imagination to offset the aching familiarity a rooftop brought the pair. It was there they found a sisterly Miku, and a excitable Len- who reminded Rui, painfully so, of his younger child self. It was a safe place- somewhere the two would be accepted and not judged. 

Things went on mostly as normal, in spite of the strange world they’d uncovered, and Mizuki ultimately invited their friend and classmate An into the group- An was more of a street musician than a street actor, but with a low activity in her search for the perfect partner, she ends up slotting into the group. Rui and An aren’t on the best of terms at first- not to say they didn’t like each other, it was just hard for the two to work on each other’s wavelengths. But they had managed.

It was later on then that they found Saki. The group had been out on a shopping trip when Saki spotted and recognized them, excitedly explaining that she was a huge fan and that their shows reminded her a lot of the ones her brother used to do for her- but a lot more in a style she really enjoyed. Hearing this, Rui ended up offering her to come aboard and perform with them, and Saki happily took it.

[jg-airi-official]

Hey hey! My band mates made accounts, so I thought I should, too.

Name's Airi Momoi, drummer of Juvenile/Glory.

// rp blog not affiliated with SEGA blah blah blah you get the drill

// Airi from the Juvenile/Glory swap au created by @an-inspired-eternity

// please don't be too weird, Airi is a minor

// headcanons for Airi are transfem she/peach pronouns with adhd

// mod is @zebrashork and mod pronouns are she/it/shark

// tags are #airi talks, airi reblogs, mod reblogs, mod talks, juvenile/glory

// ok BYE

[angelofdarknessmp3]

any korean drama recommendations to watch with my mother pleasee doesn't matter what it's about

[hedgehogoftime]

Rereading the Lord of the Rings series recently, and it's so fascinating to me how much the series is a denial of the typical juvenile power-fantasy that is associated with the fantasy genre.

Like, the power-fantasy is the temptation the Ring uses against people It tempts Boromir with becoming the "one true king" that could save his people with fantastic power. It tempts Sam with being the savior of Middle Earth and turning the ruin that is Mordor into a great garden. It tempts Gandalf and Galadriel with being the messianic figure of legend who brings salvation to Middle Earth and great glory to herself.

The things the Ring tempts people with are becoming the typical protagonists of fantasy stories that we expect to see. and over and over we see that accepting that role, that fantasy of being the benevolent all-powerful hero, is a bad thing. LotR is about how power, even power wielded with benevolent intent, is corrupting.

And its so fascinating how so much of modern fantasy buys into the very fantasy LotR denies. Most modern fantasy is about being that Heroic power-fantasy. About good amassing power to rival evil. But LotR dares not to. It dares to be honest that there is no world where anyone amasses that power and remains good.

I guess that's one of the reasons its so compelling.

[futuremrscameron]

my greatest impact

@futuremrscameron hey

[reasonsforhope]

Article

"2023 was a banner year for the Galapagos Islands: that wondrous archipelago so famous for its giant tortoises and other endemic species.

The long-serving conservation organization the Galapagos Conservancy, also endemic to the islands, recently published its annual report featuring standout figures like over 500 giant tortoises of 5 different species reintroduced to their natural habitat.

Additionally, a critically endangered species of albatross was identified to use giant tortoise feeding sites as take-off and landing areas. This key insight into co-dependency has given the Conservancy confidence that they can restore the populations of both animals to stable, flourishing numbers.

It underscores how far a donation to these endemic wildlife organizations really does go, and these two highlights of a successful year were only possible by the over $6 million in charitable contributions from supporters.

30 Chelonoidis chatamensis tortoises endemic to the smaller island of San Cristobal were repatriated to their natural habitat from the stock of a captive breeding program, while 97 native tortoises were returned to the second-largest island of Santa Cruz.

On the largest island of Isabella, 350 tortoises (214 C. guntheri and 136 C. vicina) were successfully reintroduced to their natural habitat after a survey found their numbers were not rising substantially on their own.

In March, the repatriation of 86 juvenile Chelonoidis hoodensis tortoises significantly contributed to enhancing the species’ distribution across their native habitat. They currently number 3,000 today on Española or Hood Island, a miraculous recovery from the 14 found there in the 1960s.

Also on Española, the endemic waved albatross was found to be taking off and landing on 50 additional parts of the island. These large birds, boasting an 8-foot wingspan, need ample space to get a running start before taking off, and this same principle applies when applying the brakes coming down from the sky.

In the survey, the biologists observed that concentrations of giant tortoises were linked with the usage of areas as runways for the albatross. Because the tortoises are the largest herbivores in the ecosystem, they perform the same acts as bison do in North America and Europe, and elephants in Africa—clear space.

With their herbivorous diet and large bulk, the tortoise’s feeding habits produce cleared areas ideal for albatross use.

“This discovery underscores the interconnectedness of the Galápagos ecosystem,” the authors of the report write. “This newly acquired knowledge allows us to strengthen the synergies between our conservation strategies.”

Of the $6.1 million received from donations and through other activities, the Conservancy was able to spend 77% of that on conservation programs, and that included some ambitious plans for this year—now already half done—which included drafting plans for restoration of the Pinta tortoise to the island of the same name, preparing tortoises for imminent reintroduction to the smaller Floreana island, and completely restoring the habitat for the Galapagos petrels on Santa Cruz.

Operating since 1985, the Galapagos Conservancy has a long track record of restoring these islands to their pre-Colombian glory. Let’s hope 2024 is as successful."

-via Good News Network, July 19, 2024

[yuurivoice]

Hi Tumblr. New video dropped. It's an important one, but ya boy had to talk his shit and nearly cry on camera like three times.

Not my first rodeo, if you were around in 2016, you already know how I get down. But there are a lot of new faces around since then and I would feel fraudulent if I didn't speak from the the heart on recent events and how it will impact all corners of our community.

I know it's painful and scary. To have a path to progress laid for you only to be kicked off a regressive cliff fueled by petulant fools clinging to their false ideal of normality. Of morality. I can only imagine the terror. The families betraying your best interests because eggs and gas cost too much, all for vague promises of solutions and potentially disastrous policies. Unsure if your neighbors and colleagues think you're subhuman.

Fuck that.

Our leadership has failed us. If they lack the wit and intellect to undo the fools stood across from us, they need to get out of the way. We cannot have our whole democracy undone by grifters and juvenile men whose sole purpose is to seek glory in the eyes of boys.

Anyway. I'm pissed, tired, and getting back to work.

[novaursa]

Legacy (winds of winter)

- Summary: Tywin was the man who saved you from Robert's wrath. He was also the man who doomed you.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Tywin Lannister

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: of the east and the west

- Next part: the long night

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @luniaxifics @alkadri-layal @butterflygxril

The waves crashed against the hull of the Lion’s Glory, a sleek and sturdy ship bearing the Lannister banners, as it cut through the choppy waters leaving Dragonstone behind. Tywin Lannister stood at the bow, his hands clasped behind his back, the wind tugging at his cloak. Beside him stood Jaime, clad in armor that was brilliant in the pale sunlight, his golden hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

The cries of gulls mixed with the rhythmic creak of the ship’s timbers, but it was the distant roar that turned every head on the deck.

“She’s following us,” Jaime said, his tone amused as he tilted his head upward.

High above, Viserion soared, her great wings slicing through the sky with effortless grace. Her armor gleamed—a testament to Tywin’s command for her protection—the polished plates covering her underbelly and flanks glinting in the sunlight. Behind her, smaller but no less agile, darted the juvenile dragon from Dragonmont, its black scales shimmering with streaks of blood red.

“Younger one does not like being left behind,” Jaime remarked, shielding his eyes as he watched the dragons circle overhead.

Tywin’s expression was impassive, though his gaze remained fixed on the magnificent beasts. “They are loyal to her,” he said simply, referring to you, though his tone carried no softness. “As they should be.”

Behind them, Damon, now nearly four years old, toddled toward the railing, pointing upward with a gleeful laugh. “Mama! Mama’s flying!”

The servants, struggling to keep pace with the energetic child, reached him just as he grasped the edge of the ship, bouncing on his toes. “Young master, please be careful!” one of them urged.

Jaime chuckled softly, stepping back to ruffle Damon’s silver-gold curls. “Careful, little warrior. Your mother would roast me alive if anything happened to you.”

Damon ignored the caution, his wide eyes glued to the skies. “The little one’s coming too! Look, Jaime!”

Jaime squinted upward, watching as the juvenile dragon darted closer to Viserion, the smaller beast letting out an excited screech as it attempted to keep pace. “It seems even dragons can’t bear to part with her,” Jaime muttered.

Tywin’s lip curled faintly, though whether in irritation or amusement, it was difficult to tell. “The young dragon was never meant to remain on Dragonstone. It follows instinct, nothing more.”

Jaime smirked, glancing sideways at his father. “Instinct or not, it’s impressive. You’ve managed to keep not one but two dragons from turning this fleet into kindling.”

Tywin didn’t respond immediately, his gaze flickering to the horizon where Dragonstone was becoming a distant silhouette. “Discipline keeps them in line,” he said finally, his tone as cold and sharp as ever. “Nothing more.”

Jaime let out a soft laugh, folding his arms across his chest. “Discipline, yes. But let’s not forget who truly holds their loyalty. It’s not the lion they follow, Father. It’s her.”

Tywin’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he did not deign to reply. Instead, he turned his attention back to the sky, where Viserion let out a thunderous roar, her armored form glinting like a second sun. You, perched atop her saddle, cut a striking figure against the vast expanse of blue, your hair streaming behind you as the dragon turned in a wide arc.

“She’s flying ahead,” Jaime observed as Viserion began to veer toward the west, the juvenile dragon flapping furiously to keep up. “Heading to Casterly Rock already, it seems.”

Tywin’s jaw tightened slightly. “Good. Let her secure their loyalty there.”

Jaime’s brows lifted. “You speak as if it’s ever in question. Have you seen how your men look at her? How the lords whisper her name? They call her the Dragon Queen of Casterly Rock.”

Tywin’s stern gaze flickered to Jaime. “Enough.”

Jaime raised his hands in mock surrender. “As you wish. But I’m just saying, she’s done what no one else could. Dragons flying under Lannister banners? That’s a tale even the poets couldn’t invent.”

Damon tugged at Tywin’s cloak, his small face alight with excitement. “Papa! Can we fly with Mama next time? I want to ride the little one!”

Tywin crouched slightly, placing a firm but gentle hand on his son’s shoulder. “Not today, Damon. But one day, perhaps.”

Damon’s pout was short-lived as another roar echoed from the sky, drawing his attention back to the dragons. The juvenile let out a playful screech, twirling midair as if to show off its agility. Damon clapped his hands, giggling. “It’s so fast!”

Tywin straightened, his expression unreadable as he watched the dragons fade into the distance. Beside him, Jaime shook his head, a faint smile playing at his lips.

“You know,” Jaime said, his tone light, “you may not say it, but I think you’re proud of her.”

Tywin’s gaze didn’t waver. “Pride is irrelevant. She fulfills her role.”

Jaime chuckled, tipping his head toward Damon, who was now chattering excitedly with the servants about dragons and castles. “And what about him? Does he fulfill his role?”

For the first time, Tywin’s expression softened, if only slightly. “He will. In time.”

Jaime nodded, watching his father closely. “And the little one?”

“Maelor will have his place,” Tywin said simply. “As will they all.”

The sound of the waves filled the silence that followed, the ship slicing through the sea as it carried them westward. Overhead, the cries of dragons faded, their shadowed forms disappearing beyond the horizon.

“You’re building quite the legacy, Father,” Jaime said quietly. “A lion with a dragon at its side.”

Tywin didn’t reply, but there was a glint in his eye, a flicker of something between satisfaction and determination. As the ship pressed on, carrying them closer to the shore, the weight of their ambitions hung heavy in the salt-laden air.

The courtyard of Casterly Rock was filled with activity when the shadow swept over the towering walls. For a moment, the sun was blotted out, and the low rumble of beating wings sent a shiver through the gathered servants, guards, and residents. Heads snapped upward in unison, eyes widening as the enormous form of Viserion descended from the sky. Behind her, a smaller dragon darted through the air, its movements agile as it screeched a warning to the onlookers below.

A roar erupted from Viserion as she stretched her massive wings wide, the gust of her landing scattering hay, loose parchment, and the cloaks of those too close. The black dragon landed moments later, its claws scraping against the stone, leaving deep gouges in the ground.

The panic was instantaneous.

“Dragons!” a servant screamed, dropping a basket of apples as she fled toward the keep.

“Stay back!” barked a Lannister guard, drawing his sword even as his hands trembled. The clinking of armor was drowned out by the chorus of gasps, shouts, and hurried footsteps as the courtyard dissolved into chaos.

You dismounted gracefully from Viserion’s saddle. Despite the uproar, your expression was calm, your movements deliberate. With a firm pat on Viserion’s armored flank, you whispered something in High Valyrian, and the she-dragon rumbled in response, her eyes flickering toward the crowd as if daring anyone to come closer.

“Hold your ground!” you commanded sharply, your voice cutting through the cacophony. The guards hesitated but obeyed, though their swords remained drawn.

The juvenile dragon, however, was less composed. It hissed at the nearest guards, its tail lashing out to knock over a cart of barrels. The loud crack of splintering wood sent another wave of panic through the onlookers. You turned quickly, your voice firm yet soothing.

“Easy, little one,” you murmured, stepping toward the smaller dragon. It tilted its head toward you, its red eyes narrowing before it let out a low growl, reluctantly retreating a few paces.

A faint, almost amused smile tugged at your lips as you turned back to the crowd. “There is no danger. They are with me.”

Your words were met with uneasy silence, save for the soft creak of armor as the guards shifted uncomfortably.

A bold steward, his face pale but determined, stepped forward. “My lady,” he began cautiously, his voice trembling. “What are they doing here?”

“We are returning to our home,” you replied simply, glancing over your shoulder as both dragons began to retreat. Viserion turned first, her massive frame lumbering toward the entrance of an abandoned mine beneath the Rock, a place Tywin had ordered cleared years ago. The black dragon followed hesitantly, casting one last fiery glare at the onlookers before scuttling after her.

“Under the Rock again?” the steward stammered, watching as the dragons disappeared into the shadows. “That... that cannot be safe!”

You turned to face him fully, your expression unyielding. “Viserion has made her lair there before. She will ensure her youngling is safe. You have nothing to fear so long as they are not provoked.”

The steward looked as though he wanted to argue but thought better of it, stepping back with a bow. The other servants and guards began to settle, though the unease in the air was felt.

With the immediate panic subsiding, you turned and began walking toward the keep, your steps purposeful. The guards who had drawn their swords sheathed them reluctantly, exchanging nervous glances as they watched your retreating form. Behind you, the distant sound of dragons settling into their lair echoed faintly, a reminder of the power now residing beneath Casterly Rock once more.

The banners of House Lannister fluttered in the warm breeze as Tywin’s procession wound its way through the gates of Casterly Rock. The golden lion on crimson flapped proudly, a stark reminder of the power and legacy that had returned to the seat of their ancestral home. The courtyard was a flurry of activity, with servants rushing to arrange the arrival and guards standing at attention as the wagons, horses, and carriages rolled in.

You stood at the top of the stairs, your silver hair catching the sunlight, a calm yet warm expression on your face as you waited. Viserion’s occasional distant roars from her lair below the Rock echoed faintly in the background, but the arrival of Tywin’s retinue dominated the moment.

When the grandest of the carriages stopped, the door swung open, and Damon leaped out with boundless energy. “Mama!” he shouted gleefully, his curls bouncing as he darted across the courtyard.

“Lord Damon!” a frantic servant called, hurrying after him while trying not to trip over her skirts. Behind her, another servant carefully cradled Maelor, who squirmed in curiosity at the commotion.

You descended the stairs quickly, your arms open just in time to catch Damon as he flung himself at you. “My little warrior,” you said warmly, lifting him with ease. “You’ve grown restless on the road, haven’t you?”

Damon laughed, his small hands clutching at your shoulders as he grinned up at you. “I missed you, Mama!”

“And I missed you,” you replied, planting a gentle kiss on his forehead. His laughter melted your heart, the sound a welcome reprieve from the heavy discussions and plans that had dominated the past weeks.

From the carriage, Tywin Lannister emerged, his presence as commanding as ever. Dressed in his travel armor, his sharp green eyes surveyed the courtyard, noting the orderly chaos of the welcoming party. His gaze softened just slightly as he watched you embrace Damon.

“Welcome home, my lord,” you called, still holding Damon as you turned to greet Tywin.

Tywin strode forward, the faintest curve of a smile gracing his lips. “It seems I’m not the one you’ve been waiting for,” he remarked, nodding toward Damon, who was nestled contentedly in your arms.

“I’ve waited for all of you,” you replied, your tone affectionate but composed.

The servant carrying Maelor approached cautiously, the little boy reaching toward you with grabby hands. “Mama,” he babbled, his chubby face breaking into a wide smile.

You shifted Damon onto your hip and reached for Maelor, cradling him in your other arm. “And here’s my other little lion,” you said softly, kissing Maelor’s forehead. “Have you been a good boy for your father?”

Tywin’s gaze lingered on the scene for a moment, a rare flicker of warmth in his otherwise impassive demeanor. “He has,” Tywin said, his tone firm but not unkind. “Though Damon has certainly kept the servants on their toes.”

Damon beamed proudly. “I was brave, Papa!”

Tywin arched a brow, his expression almost amused. “Brave or mischievous?”

Damon giggled, burying his face against your shoulder. “Both,” he whispered conspiratorially, making you laugh.

Tywin stepped closer, placing a hand on Damon’s head briefly before turning his attention to you. “You’ve kept everything in order during my absence, I trust.”

“Of course,” you replied smoothly, shifting Maelor slightly as he reached for a strand of your hair. “Though it’s not the same without you here.”

Tywin nodded, his gaze steady but filled with a subtle pride. “Then let us not waste time. There is much to discuss.”

You inclined your head, your smile softening as you turned to lead the way back into the keep. Damon squirmed in your arms, eager to recount every detail of the journey, while Maelor babbled happily, seemingly just content to be close to you.

As you entered the cool halls of Casterly Rock, Tywin walked beside you, his imposing presence a constant but reassuring force. Behind you, the servants and guards followed, the air buzzing with the energy of a family reunited and a household settling back into its rhythm.

The council chamber of Casterly Rock was lit by the soft glow of lanterns, the stone walls adorned with tapestries bearing the lion of House Lannister. Tywin sat at the head of the long oak table, his hands steepled before him, his piercing green gaze sweeping over those gathered. Beside him, his brother Kevan, ever the loyal second, listened intently, while Jaime leaned back in his chair, his hand resting casually on the armrest. Around them, several bannermen and Maester Aldren awaited Tywin’s words.

The room was silent, save for the faint crackle of the hearth, as Tywin began. “The realm requires stability, and stability begins with order. It is time for certain... lapses to be corrected.”

His eyes shifted to Jaime, who straightened slightly, sensing what was coming.

“Jaime,” Tywin continued, his tone calm but authoritative, “you will return to King’s Landing and resume your duties as a knight of the Kingsguard. Your place is at King Tommen’s side.”

Jaime frowned, leaning forward. “I’ve served the crown long enough, Father. Let someone else babysit the boy.”

Tywin’s gaze hardened, his tone cutting. “You swore an oath, Jaime. One you have neglected for too long. The Kingsguard is not a convenience you abandon when it no longer suits you. I've offered you a choice to leave once, and you refused it. Tommen is your king, and your duty is to protect him.”

Jaime opened his mouth to protest further, but Tywin raised a hand, silencing him. “This is not a matter for debate. You will return to the capital.”

Jaime’s jaw tightened, his frustration evident. “And leave you here? With everything happening? Daenerys breathing down our necks, dragons circling the skies, with winter—”

“Do not presume to question me,” Tywin interrupted suddenly, his voice like steel. “I have managed the affairs of this realm long before you were born, and I will continue to do so. Your place is in King’s Landing, where you will ensure the boy remains safe and the crown secure.”

Kevan nodded slightly, offering quiet support. “The capital needs a strong hand, Jaime. You are the best man for the task.”

Jaime scoffed, glancing at his uncle. “And what about Cersei? She’s been quiet for too long. That usually means she’s scheming.”

Tywin’s lips curled into a faint, humorless smile. “Precisely why you must keep an eye on her. She is not to overstep her bounds again. The last thing we need is another of her... miscalculations.”

The mention of Cersei hung heavily in the air, and Jaime shifted uncomfortably. “She’s my sister, Father.”

“She is a Lannister,” Tywin said coldly, his gaze unwavering. “And she will act in the interests of this family, whether by her own will or by force. You will ensure her compliance.”

Jaime’s golden hand clenched slightly on the armrest. “And if she doesn’t comply?”

Tywin’s expression didn’t change, his tone as unyielding as ever. “Then remind her of the consequences of failure. Quietly, if possible. Firmly, if necessary.”

The other bannermen exchanging uneasy glances. Maester Aldren coughed lightly, breaking the silence. “If I may, my lord, the Queen Mother has been... difficult to predict of late. It would be wise to ensure her movements are monitored.”

Tywin nodded curtly. “See that it’s done.”

Jaime exhaled through his nose, leaning back in his chair with a resigned expression. “So that’s it, then? I’m being sent back to play nursemaid and spy?”

“You are being sent to do your duty,” Tywin corrected. “As you should have been doing all along.”

Jaime shook his head but said nothing further, knowing there was no point in arguing. Tywin’s word was final.

Satisfied, Tywin turned his attention to the rest of the council. “See to it that preparations for the Rock’s defenses are completed. Daenerys Targaryen’s forces are to be watched, and we cannot afford to be caught unprepared. Kevan, oversee the supply lines.”

Kevan inclined his head. “Of course, my lord.”

Tywin’s gaze swept over the room one last time, ensuring his orders were understood. “This council is dismissed.”

The bannermen rose, murmuring their acknowledgments as they filed out, leaving Tywin, Jaime, and Kevan alone. Jaime lingered for a moment, watching his father with a mix of frustration and resignation.

“You never change, do you?” Jaime said quietly, almost to himself.

Tywin looked at him, his expression unreadable. “And that is why this family endures.”

With that, Tywin rose, signaling the end of the conversation. Jaime remained seated for a moment longer before standing and following Kevan out, the weight of his father’s expectations pressing heavily on his shoulders.

The chamber was bathed in the soft glow of the hearth, the crackling flames the only source of warmth against the bitter chill that seeped into every corner of Casterly Rock. The heavy fur blankets barely warded off the creeping cold of winter's breath, which had now reached even the great western fortress. Tywin Lannister lay beside you, his stern features softened in the flickering light. The room was quiet, save for the distant howl of the wind outside, its mournful song carrying through the stone walls.

You lay with your head resting on his chest, his arm loosely draped around you. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat was a grounding presence in the eerie stillness of the night. Winter had come, and its grip was tightening with every passing day.

“It feels as if the sun is afraid to rise,” you murmured, your voice low but carrying the weight of your thoughts. “The day barely exists now. Soon, it will vanish altogether.”

Tywin’s hand trailed idly along your back, his touch as firm and deliberate as always. “The sun will return, as it always does,” he replied, his voice calm but resolute. “Winter is a season, nothing more. It is the weak who fall victim to its cold.”

You tilted your head to look up at him, your silver hair spilling across his chest like moonlight. “And yet, even here, winter reaches us. This cold... it’s unlike any I’ve felt before.”

Tywin’s gaze met yours, his green eyes unwavering. “The cold is a reminder of what’s to come. We must remain strong, vigilant. Weakness is not an option.”

You smiled faintly, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “You speak as though the cold can be fought with swords and strategies. But what if it’s more than that? What if it’s the beginning of something we cannot control?”

He studied you for a long moment, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. “If it is, then we adapt. We do what is necessary to survive. That is what we have always done.”

A silence settled between you, broken only by the occasional pop of the fire. You closed your eyes briefly, letting yourself savor the rare intimacy of the moment. Tywin was not a man prone to displays of affection, but here, in the privacy of your shared chamber, he allowed himself these moments with you.

“Daenerys has halted all negotiations,” you said after a time, your voice quieter now. “The seas around Dragonstone are freezing. She knows her armies cannot march in this weather.”

Tywin’s expression didn’t change, though his fingers tightened slightly against your skin. “She hesitates because she knows the odds are against her. The Targaryen name alone won’t save her from the realities of war.”

You hesitated before speaking again, your tone careful. “And yet, the winds of winter favor no one. Even her dragons are at a disadvantage in this cold.”

Tywin let out a low, contemplative hum. “The dragons will adapt, as they always have. The question is whether their riders will. Daenerys was a fool to bring her foreign armies here, thinking the realm would bow to her name. She underestimated the North and overestimated her position.”

You traced a finger along the scar on his chest, your touch absent as your mind turned over his words. “She is my sister,” you said softly, almost to yourself. “And yet, she feels like a stranger.”

“She is a threat,” Tywin countered, his voice firm. “Do not let sentiment cloud your judgment. Her arrival disrupted everything we’ve worked to secure.”

You met his gaze again, your eyes searching his. “And if she were to turn her dragons against us?”

Tywin’s lips curved into the faintest hint of a smirk. “Then she will learn the hard way that dragons alone do not win wars.”

You sighed, resting your head back against his chest. The fire crackled, and the wind howled louder outside, as if in agreement with his words. The weight of the world pressed heavily on your shoulders, but here, in this moment, you allowed yourself to rest.

“We should sleep,” you murmured, though sleep felt distant, like the sun.

Tywin’s hand moved to your waist, his touch grounding and deliberate. “Rest if you can. Tomorrow will demand much of us.”

You nodded faintly, closing your eyes as the firelight danced across the room. The cold was relentless, but for now, in the warmth of his arms, you felt shielded—if only for a fleeting moment.

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Uptown Girl - Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

summary: Bradley is in love with the admiral's daughter. He needs to win her heart the best way he knows how - serenading her with the help of his friends.

pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x reader

warnings: swearing, Jake teasing Bradley about being old.

word count: 2k

“Man, I can’t just go talk to her.” 

Bradley put his head in his hands as he sat at the back of the Hard Deck with his friends. Running his long fingers through his short, golden-brown curls, he sighed before looking up, his hazel eyes full of anxiety and frustration. He’d been pining after a girl who’d become a regular at the local bar for a while - the first day he’d seen her, he was smitten. 

She’d come in with her long hair pulled back into a sleek, high ponytail, a warm, friendly smile on her features as she spoke with a few others in the bar. Bradley had wondered who she was, and where she’d come from, a question none of his squadron seemed to know the answer to. That was, until their team lead, and Bradley’s surrogate father of sorts, piped up with an explanation, having heard Bradley audibly swooning over how great she was to everyone in earshot. 

“That’s Admiral Simpson’s daughter. I wouldn’t try your luck there, if I were you, Bradley,” Maverick had warned, smirking as he took a sip from his beer glass as he looked over between Bradley and his mystery girl.

Bradley had gone quiet upon learning this information, unable to even fire back at his friend Jake’s retorts and quips about how Bradley was punching above his weight on this one, even as a skilled aviator. In a way, Jake was right, no amount of skill or experience in the air, no number of awards for his service, or medals of honor could put him in the same league as the Admiral’s daughter. Her father had recently become the commander of the entire Pacific fleet, and Bradley was just a lieutenant, serving as an aviator for the past 19 years, his entire naval career. 

At nearly 40, Bradley was beginning to consider retirement, weighing his options between becoming a flight instructor for Top Gun, the very flight academy program that he’d graduated from himself, or, ending his naval career to enter civilian life happily. With the exception of Maverick, the rest of his team were considerably younger than he was, the next oldest being Jake, at barely 35. Admiral Simpson’s daughter was easily a decade younger than him, if not more, and probably accustomed to much more in life than anything Bradley could offer her. Naval rank aside, she was likely much more used to living the life of luxury, where as Bradley had never really experienced it, outside of the odd frivolous purchase here or there, like his 1972 Ford Bronco, custom painted bright blue to restore it to its former glory when he purchased it. 

Despite all these reasons why Bradley should just forget this juvenile feeling crush he’d developed on her, he couldn’t shake it. Every time he caught a glimpse of her stunning smile, or heard her infectious laugh, the sweetest sound his ears had ever come across, he couldn’t help but fall right back into it again, like a trap that was set perfectly for him. Bradley was head over heels, but worst of all,

“You’re fucked, man. You can’t win here.”

Bradley sighed again as he shook his head, bringing himself back to the present moment. He looked up at Jake, who, upon seeing the confused look on Bradley’s face, laughed and repeated himself.

“I said, you’re fucked, man. There’s no winning here, you either go in there, you say hi to this girl and you ask her out, her dad finds out and you get your ass shipped out to another base faster than you can salute, or you ask her out and she turns your old ass down, either way, you’re going to end up unhappy and not with her,” Jake shrugged as he sipped his beer, leaning on his pool cue.

Bob, the more shy, reserved of Bradley’s team, shook his head. He pushed his glasses up on the end of his nose, adjusting them as he set his plastic cup down on the bar counter, shrugging his shoulders as he interjected, a rare occurrence for Bob, most of the time.

“I mean…Bradley could probably win her over,” He said quietly, nodding his head, “It wouldn’t be hard, I mean, he has an impressive career record, he’s a nice guy, he’s not bad to look at,” Bob shrugged, “I think he could pull it off. It’s her dad I’d be worried about. But, maybe he wouldn’t care so much? It’s not like Bradley’s gonna – what’s that term again? Hump and go? Surf and turf?”

“You mean hump and dump?” Jake snickered, shaking his head, “I think Brad here’s a bit old to pull off the hump and dump nowadays anyways. Maybe 20 years ago.”

“Easy, I only just turned 39 in June, thanks.”

“39 is practically old enough to be a grandfather, Bradley,”

“Oh come on, it is not,” Bradley frowned as he looked at his friends. Bob fiddled with his glasses nervously, avoiding eye contact, Jake smirked as he held back a laugh, and Reuben and Mickey pretended they didn’t hear the conversation, focusing instead on their game of darts taking place a couple of feet away, “Is it?”

“How many years older than you is Mav, man?” 

“I dunno,” Bradley shrugged his shoulders, “22, maybe? 23?”

“Right, so when he was 39, you were…?”

“Uh,” Bradley looks up at the ceiling as he counts in his head, trying to work out the math, “16?”

“Right…you see where I’m going with this?”

“Fuck, you’re right, I could be someone’s grandfather. Jesus Christ,” Bradley frowned, shaking his head as he sipped his beer again. 

“Relax, you’d have to had a kid at like, 23 or earlier, who also had a kid young for it to work, but it’s not impossible, is all,” Jake nodded matter of factly as he sipped his drink. Jake grinned as he spotted the girl in question walking by their seats, his elbow sharply poking Bradley in the ribcage as he nodded his head slightly in her direction. 

“Now’s your chance, loverboy. Take it now if you’re gonna shoot your shot,” Jake whispered with a smirk on his lips. 

Bradley nodded his head once and took a deep breath as he set his beer bottle down on the table. With a nervous smile, he put his aviators down over his eyes to hide their anxious gaze before heading over to the piano. If there was one thing Bradley could do to win her over, it’d be serenading the bar with a fun, classic upbeat tune. Normally, he’d go for his favourite, Great Balls of Fire by Jerry Lewis, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Bradley put a hand on Jake’s shoulder, his grip firm as he leaned in to whisper to him.

“How confidently can you sing Uptown Girl?”

“You mean like, “uptown girl, she’s been living in her uptown world, I bet she’s never had a backstreet guy…?” Jake laughed as he cocked his eyebrow, singing the chorus of the song in his slightly off key baritone, “Oh, you’re not seriously doing this, are you?” He drawled, shaking his head before shooting Bob, Reuben and Mickey a look of disbelief. 

“I love that song!” Bob said enthusiastically as he stood to his feet, “We’ve got your back, buddy, let’s go win her heart!” 

Jake rolled his eyes and laughed before following Bradley and his friends to the piano. Bradley took his seat on the piano bench, lowering his sunglasses to make eye contact with his dream girl’s gaze, a confident smirk on his face as he winked at her before putting his glasses back on. He wasn’t sure if it was the beer coursing through his veins or the sheer smitten head over heels side of him taking over, but his new found confidence had Bradley playing the opening bars of the 80s hit on the piano, his friends offering nothing but encouragement for his somewhat ridiculous idea. It wasn’t the smoothest way to get a girl’s attention, but, it was different, and would almost certainly stand out in her mind, he reasoned with himself. 

“Uptown girl, she’s been living in her uptown world. I bet she’s never had a backstreet guy, I bet her momma’s never told her why,”  

Bradley sang out, his deep, gravelly voice ringing out as he carried each note perfectly in tune as he played the song’s melody on the piano. 

“And now she’s looking for a downtown man, that’s what I am,”  

Bradley’s eyes met with hers as he sang, unable to stop himself from smiling wider than he probably should have as he belted the song out, making it clear that out of the crowd of people around them singing along, his full intent was just to get her attention on him. 

“And when she knows what she wants from her time, and when she wakes up and makes up her mind,” 

Bob, Jake, Reuben and Mickey harmonized alongside Bradley, making for a perfectly imperfect set of backing vocals. While none of the four of Bradley’s backup singers were particularly great singers, their harmonies were enough support for Bradley to carry his way through the song without looking like he’d just lost his mind and started breaking out into song. 

“She’ll see I’m not so tough, just because, I’m in love with an uptown girl, you know I’ve seen her in her uptown world. She’s getting tired of her high class toys, and all her presents from her uptown boys, she’s got a choice,” 

As Bradley continued to sing it out, with his friends as moral and vocal support, he noticed that his mystery girl was making her way closer to the piano, seemingly leaving behind whoever she had arrived with as she inched her way towards the man who was apparently serenading her in the middle of a crowded bar near a naval base. She flashed him a smile, her cheeks a soft blush as she raised an eyebrow at him. Bradley couldn’t tell if the blush in her features was from embarrassment or flattery, but he hoped it was the latter of the two. 

“And when she’s walking, she’s looking so fine, and when she’s talking, she’ll say that she’s mine,” 

Bob and Jake began dramatically singing with one another, using Jake’s empty beer bottle as a makeshift microphone, while Mickey excitedly drummed along with his hands on the wooden top of the piano. Reuben began dancing slightly as he sang along to the words, all four men now completely immersing themselves in their performance with Bradley, and all four likely contemplating how they’d get Bradley to repay them for their public humiliation in the name of getting him a potential date. 

Bradley grinned as she approached the piano, her hands resting on the wooden top as he played the last few notes of the song, his eyes completely fixated on hers. To him, at that moment, she was the only person in the room. The only face he cared about in the crowded bar was hers, and now, it was right here, standing in front of him. 

“You’ve got quite the talent,” She curled her sheer, gloss-coated lips up into a grin as she leaned on the top of the piano, looking directly at Bradley.

“I’m a man of many talents, this was just a couple of them on display,” He nodded his head once, trying to keep his composure as she leaned towards him, willing his eyes to not wander down her body, “I’m Bradley. Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw, US Naval Air Force,” He said his title with a sense of pride that he hoped didn’t come off as bragging. 

“Nice to meet you, Lieutenant,” She grinned, pointing to his empty beer bottle that sat atop the piano beside her, “Care to grab another one of those with me?” 

“Absolutely,” Bradley said as he hopped off the piano bench at an almost breakneck pace, leaving Jake, Bob, Reuben and Mickey fighting off fits of laughter at Bradley’s eagerness. 

[an-inspired-eternity]

J/G JUMPSCARE (begs u 2 talk about the sillynomes relationship especially)

thank god i can actually answer this GFJGJHGFJG

so! for some additional background context on how j/g formed, it was originally airi adopting ichika like a stray cat and realizing ichika was into music/wanted to have a band and she was like yk what poggers i'm gonna ask my friend ena about this and ena ends up getting talked into it but Something was missing especially with their vocals so one thing ends up leading to another and akito ends up getting asked to join because of his singing and initially he's like wtf no but airi is airi and doesn't take no for an answer so he becomes their lead singer

and at the start? it's awkward. the shinonomes are similar with each other that they are in canon, but as time goes on with their band, while they still bicker it's a lot less heated. and while they're both too tsundere to admit it they like having something to do together :)

i have alot less figured out with the vocaloids in the other groups than i do with the hoc vocaloids but i can say that rin and meiko being their main vocaloids is like a inverse of vbs having len and meiko :) bc len is hoc's main vocaloid but also just for the vibe. like rin mentions len but he isn't around (initially) like how vbs len does with rin before she's properly introduced

and akito also is still like an older brother with j/g rin and len like how in canon he is with vbs rin and len and ena teases him for it but i think underneath she likes seeing him be less angry

[serpentface]

The two greatest beasts found in imperial Wardin's waterways, the river drake and the an-nechoi.

River drakes are actually small freshwater leviathans, with their resemblance to crocodiles being a result of convergent evolution. Juvenile drakes live in small, loose groups, but breeding adults are solitary. Full grown adults of the size seen here are rare, and legends speak of river drakes who grew twice as large in ancient times. This may be rooted in truth, as many of Wardin's rivers have depleted in size orr are heavily trafficked, and territory that can sustain such a large adult is increasingly rare.

They kill humans less frequently than crocodiles (also widely found in this region) but tend to have an elevated place in the cultural schema, partly due to their rarity and partly due to their inconspicuousness (they give live birth and never need to emerge on land, and can live completely undetected in an area for years). It is actually juveniles and smaller adults who are more dangerous to humans. Big, older animals do not need to feed as frequently and tend to reserve feeding for seasonal river crossings by migratory antelopes. They spend most of their time expending little energy, often staying so still at the river's surface to bask that water plants collect on their backs.

Nechoi are a family of large omnivorous hooved animals, and an-nechoi are the biggest and most aquatic of the bunch. Their jaws are exceptionally powerful, used in intraspecific combat. They spend most of their day keeping cool in water (usually slow flowing rivers), emerging at night to feed. Most of their diet is plant matter, but they readily scavenge and opportunistically kill prey.

Adult males form territories stretching up to a mile or so from a riverside and will aggressively defend them against other males (and other large animals that compete for food). Females move freely between territories, flocking to males who control the largest and most bountiful stretches of land. While resting in water, they are comparatively unaggressive and will flock into mixed-sex groups (though males will fight even in water when in the presence of receptive females)

An-nechoi are considered very dangerous to humans. Most attacks on humans are a result of territorial aggression or defense of their young, but are occasionally predatory in nature (and they will usually eat their kill either way). They are also known for stealing catches from fishermen, and appearing at the kill sites of hunters on land to scavenge the carcass. They are rarely targeted in subsistence hunting, but are some of the most sought after game in recreational hunts, with a killing of a bull an-nechoi being a marker of status and glory for an experienced hunter.

[t-posing-ibuki]

Honestly V3's best piece of worldbuilding is establishing a second school dedicated to Ultimates (with the assumption it's operating at the same time as Hope's Peak).

Like sure, you could portray HPA and the Ultimate Academy for Gifted Juveniles as rival institutions. Their sports/academic teams competing against each other is a given, but with the added drama of the two schools trying to recruit more talented students to further their own mysterious goals.

OR

you could imagine the UA as a bargain-bin version of HPA. HPA has nearly a century of renown and glory that overshadows all other institutions, which could also mean they have the ability to scout for students and enroll them before any other academy.

The UA ends up with all the leftovers and dropouts that the HPA turns away or expells, meaning you get some... less than ideal Ultimates. Penultimates, if you will.

Kaito has the title of Astronaut, but has never been to space

Shuichi is branded the Ultimate Detective, but only after solving one case.

Kokichi declares himself a "Supreme Leader" over a gang of delinquents who pull pranks.

It makes sense for these second-stringers to be turned away or ignored by HPA, and wind up at a less prestigious school. However, sometimes the UA manages to get their hands on genuine talent (like Kirumi or Maki) first.

[yuesya]

AR-26710 gasps, jerking up harshly.

Her hands fly to her chest, only to be met with a stretch of smooth skin. When that can’t be right, because the last thing she remembers is a sharp, chitinous leg tearing through her armor and goring into her midsection. Goring through her midsection, actually, and–

Glamoth Military Regulations, Article 22: Knights must give all they have to Her Majesty, the queen, including their lives.

–she’d been prepared for it. All knights of the Iron Cavalry are prepared to die, fighting in this war against the scourge descending from the stars upon Glamoth.

She’d been prepared for it.

And yet, a burst of terror had filled her all the same, when her torso had been carved open even despite the protection of her armor. Desperation, as she’d struggled to reconvene with her unit through the staggering pain of severe injury, knowing that she could not call for help through her broken communications network. That no one would see her through the burning wreckage, that she would only be one of many who fell in combat in this war against the endless Swarm.

There was glory in such a death. It should be an honor. Their creators have taught them this, again and again. AR-26710 knows this, as well as she does every groove and detail of her own armor.

… But if she’d been prepared to die, then what is this relief that she feels upon waking up again?

“You’re up.” The voice is steady and feminine, not unfeeling and robotic. It takes AR-26710 a moment to place the speaker’s identity: AR-1368. She’s the Personal Escort Model who’d been temporarily assigned command of the squad! Was she the one who–? “Take it easy. The Juvenile Sting nearly tore you apart by the time I got there. You sustained a lot of damage –the scientists almost decided to recycle you instead of properly putting you back together.”

AR-26710’s eyes widen.

AR-1368 sighs. Her lips curve into a tired smile, an attempt at reassurance. “Don’t worry. The only acceptable death for a Knight is out on the battlefield. I wasn’t going to let Her Majesty down.”

“Her… Majesty…?” AR-26710 repeats in confusion.

“How else do you think I found you?” AR-1368 arches an eyebrow. “Your communications were broken, and you were buried under tons of burning wreckage. Her Majesty guided me to recover you.”

“Her Majesty… guided you to find me?” For her? But AR-26710 has never… there are so many knights under the queen’s command. Why would Her Majesty… did she really…?

A memory flickers in her mind. Through the haze of blinding pain and darkness and the certainty of imminent death… there had been an odd sensation, briefly. The cold brush of a phantom hand against her forehead, blessedly cool and soothing, providing a single moment of clarity.

You’ll be alright.

That… had that been Her Majesty?

When AR-26710 snaps back to attention again, AR-1368 is looking at her with a knowing smile.

“Her Majesty,” AR-1368 says, “Will never forget us.”

[nevesmose]

Separation 11347

This was, by Trazyn's infallible reckoning, his eleven thousand three hundred and forty-seventh divorce from Orikan. The Diviner, on the other hand, was adamant that it was in fact only their eleven thousand three hundred and forty-sixth. This dispute was what had caused the current divorce.

At first he had settled contentedly into his usual divorce routine, entering his meticulously-preserved time loop of a "Happy Divorce" party plucked from the Terran city-state of Nova Yoruk in early M3 as the Imperium kept its years.

As had been the case so many times before, the Lord of Solemnace basked over and over again in the reassurance of the assembled middle-aged humans that he was indeed so much better off without that asshole in his life, rounding off the festivities with a cake depicting a miniature confectionery figurine of Trazyn using a guillotine on a similarly-constructed sugar-based effigy of Orikan.

It was all very gratifying, and he was certain that when the amusement faded he would return to find Orikan waiting for him apologetically, his eminently bullyable faceplate resembling a weeping juvenile felid.

It was, however, not to be. He returned to the Galleries to find no trace whatsoever of Orikan. He was so disconcerted that he even briefly considered retrieving his much-prized clone of the primarch Fulgrim from stasis, but decided against it. It had, after all, only been a few subjective decades since he had placed the clone into a detailed diorama of the genuine being's final battle with his erstwhile companion Ferrus Manus for enrichment purposes. He had been thoroughly pleased with himself for coming up with entertainment of such realism and, judging by his mute tears of joy, so too was the clone.

What a wonderful caregiver I am, he had thought, jauntily walking away. Perhaps he and Orikan should adopt, which when used by Trazyn the Infinite is a word which means kidnap, an Astartes or Aeldari together.

Time passed and with no sign of Orikan's return, Trazyn felt it justifiable to seek other outlets for his multifarious urges. After exhausting every category on Cronhub and getting banned from Nemesorindr, he arose to find that the necrodermis of his lower limbs had spontaneously reformed itself into the shape of a baggy, ill-maintained example of the Terran garment known as sweatpants.

This could not stand. He resolved that he would start A Project, an undertaking of such majesty and glory that no one, least of all that cycloptic fool Orikan, could deny him the attention he deserved.

After brief forays into stop-motion animation and painting miniature Space Marines (accomplished by shrinking normal Astartes through arcane technosorcery and ignoring the resulting high-pitched noises as he applied pigment of a much too viscous consistency to their battleplate) his thoughts returned once more to his display of the battle between the primarchs on Isstvan V.

Theirs was a tragic tale of heartfelt companionship severed by corruption and betrayal. He himself had mentally projected several hundred phaeronfics about them to the great repository of the Necron race whose name, although untranslatable into any other language, was best rendered as The Sarcophagus-Belonging-To-Us-Alone, and some of them had even received multiple scarabs of approval from the discerning audience entrapped there forever.

Surely, he reasoned with the confidence of a being who had long since activated the developer console of his necrodermis body and manually increased its confidence, intelligence and charisma variables to 100, this meant that no one other than he could restore their friendship.

And so, in single-minded pursuit of compassion and friendliness, the Archaeovist and his forces wrought a swathe of destruction across the galaxy.

A foray into the Eye of Terror itself resulted in the capture of Fulgrim through the use of a vast two-pronged stick to pin the writhing daemon prince to the ground where he had been basking one day, while the sacrifice of his entire collection of ancient Terran doujinshis to the haemonculi of Commorragh itself had given him forbidden knowledge sufficient to wrest back the very soul of Ferrus Manus himself and place it into a suitably prepared necron host body via the biomorphic resonance of the necrodermis which had coated his hands in life.

Finally, the moment of glory came. The daemon Fulgrim and the metallically resurrected Ferrus Manus were placed into the same containment chamber and -

It was not at all what Trazyn had hoped. After a monumental bout of hand-to-hand combat lasting for hour upon hour, the two primarchs had settled into an uneasy stalemate, in the sense that Fulgrim was currently coiled around a light fixture on the ceiling and Ferrus had run out of objects to throw at him.

"You're even uglier now than you were when you had flesh," Fulgrim hissed venomously.

"And you were more of a snake then than you are now," Ferrus shot back, the frozen inexpressiveness of his necrodermis faceplate matching the famously stone-faced countenance he had displayed in life.

Fortunately Trazyn, who never made a mistake of any kind whatsoever, had prepared for such an eventuality. A concealed slot opened in the ceiling of the containment chamber, dislodging Fulgrim from his perch, and through the opening there descended a vast garment of woven silver-metallic fabric, emblazoned with inscrutable Necron symbols and sized in such a way as to accomodate the bodies of both primarchs.

"This is your get along shirt," Trazyn said, his voice amplified throughout the containment chamber. "You will wear it."

[rageprufrock]

Superposition | The Devil Judge WIP

Just a sneak peek into the inevitable outcome of me finding out that I can write a story about a 17 year age gap.

After the fire, Yohan wakes up every morning knowing that Isaac is dead. 

Elijah wakes up every morning convinced her father is alive. 

It's the crush damage of new grief each day, too big for her tiny body and too heavy for her to carry. It's worse than all of Yohan's years under his father's belt; it's not until he loses Isaac and Heejin, until Elijah cries herself unconscious in his arms, that Yohan realizes that his father had been a clumsy jailer, that for all his cruelty he'd been a blunt instrument compared to all the ways suffering can visit itself upon a person. 

It's a miracle Elijah is alive, surviving multiple complex fractures and then delayed treatment. They save the flesh and bone of her legs, piece her back together with literal pins and needles. Her x-rays are difficult to look at; the scarring across her ghost-pale skin is worse. She hurts, in a relentless way that is at first impossible to explain to a child, and then is so ordinary she goes quiet with it, turns it inward. She stops crying. She's too weak and immobile for her once-infamous tantrums. She goes quiet instead. She throws books, toys, anything that Yohan brings into her beautifully appointed private room to try to distract her. 

"It will be hard, and it will take time," her doctors say, with an infuriating paternalism, as if their performed empathy could dampen constant burn of searing fire across Yohan's shoulders, cut into the shell of him. "But she's young and she's resilient—she'll surprise you." 

For the first six months, Yohan spends his limited waking, functional hours desperately trying to hold back the flood with his bare hands. He wakes and he's in too much pain to function. He sleeps and his doctors adjust his pain management regimen. He wakes and he tries to comfort Elijah. He sleeps and he dreams about the skin grafts he's been informed are needed. He wakes and he calls Lawyer Ko. He sleeps when he knows Isaac's Social Responsibility Fund donation is canceled. He loses hours and entire days in the labyrinth of the hospital, winding between the VIP ward and the children's wing, meeting with Elijah's orthopedic surgeon, her occupational therapists, the revolving cast of nurses that transport her from procedure to scan to bedside. He arranges Isaac and Heejin's funeral, and ends up back as a patient when Elijah's meltdown at the gravesite has him tearing one of his barely healed graft sites trying to contain her flailing arms, to swallow all of her screaming pain into the bottomless well in the base of his spine. 

It's eight months and six days after the fire that Yohan hears Elijah laugh again. 

***

Later, he'll get a comprehensive readout from the hospital grapevine, but the day he meets Gaon for the first time, all he knows is that he's been summoned by the terrifying peds nurses because Elijah and her new friend have committed some kind of juvenile crime.

Yohan's not ignorant to the fact that Elijah is a nightmare child, but he's still a little confused about how a five year old who is—frankly—abysmal with her new wheelchair is any kind of threat to society. He fetches up at to the pediatric OT clinic fully prepared to act like a complete entitled asshole about this, because while Elijah is a monster, she's his monster and therefore completely innocent of all sin, original or otherwise. 

Except halfway down the hallway there, he hears the sharp cackle of Elijah's laughter, a goblin shriek of pure wicked joy. It lands like a punch, like a blessing, it leaves him lightheaded. 

When he rushes the door, it's to find Elijah in full glory, giggling so hard she can't speak. Her hair is tied up in a series of tiny ponytails that frame her face like a lion's mane, her face is covered in marker, and she's clutching a filthy orange cat to her chest. 

"Kang Yohan-sshi," says one of the nurses, who is trying and failing to look severe, from the way her mouth keeps wobbling and her voice is trembling. "As you can see, we have a situation."

"I—where did she get the cat?" Yohan asks, faint.

Another nurse, who is making no effort to hide her grin, says, "Apparently, they found him behind a trash can in the garden and snuck him into the hospital." 

Yohan slants his eyes toward her. "They?" 

"I'm really not sure how you missed her very obvious partner in crime," the nurse tells him, actively laughing now, and when Yohan turns to look again—turns to see anything other than the miracle of Elijah's smiling face—he sort of understands her point.

Because sitting next to Elijah is a skinny teenaged boy wearing Elijah's headband, all of his short hair pushed back and sticking out like a massive frill around his thin face, his nose colored black and whiskers drawn across his cheeks. He looks less embarrassed than he probably should be, and more incriminating, he's holding some contraption made out of stolen hospital supplies that looks like one those little fishing toys for cats—a single inflated glove hanging from the end—that the fat orange on Elijah's lap keeps reaching for with outstretched paws. 

Standing in the doorway, surrounded by staff and other parents who are barely containing their hysterics, the whole thing is even more batshit. Nurse Woo Yeji, the iron fist of the pediatrics ward, is looming over Elijah and the kid on the ground, hands on her hips as she booms out:

"Kang Elijah-sshi, give me that creature immediately." 

Elijah narrows her bright little eyes. "Oh no," Yohan mutters.

"My cat," she declares, her chin stuck out in defiance.

"He was so sick and skinny, we had to rescue him," the boy chimes in, with the admirable application of a pair of doleful, sweet eyes. It might be more effective if his face wasn't covered in washable marker and he didn't have a purple heart drawn over his left eyebrow. 

"That cat is at least 4 kilograms overweight," Nurse Yeji tells them both, unmoved. "And let me say: Kim Gaon, I thought you had better judgment than this."

The boy, Gaon, takes the comment with the ease of long familiarity with disappointment, but Yohan still sees his eyes go briefly flinty, briefly cold, before he pastes on a smile and says, "I rode my motorcycle into a wall. If you thought I had good judgement, that's your own fault." 

"Yah! Kim Gaon!" the nurse yells, which just sets Elijah off again into pealing laughter. 

And from the back of the room, Yohan watches the way this mouthy kid, this little punk, glances over to his niece, watches how the fake grin on his face dissolves for something softer—something run through with tenderness too old for his years. 

***

Kim Gaon is 17, orphaned, and a frequent flight risk from the group home he's been remanded to with both his parents dead. In the 13 months since his father had died by suicide, and the 10 months since his mother had followed, he's been picked up by the local cops at least a half-dozen times: for smoking, for drinking, for fighting. Yohan looks up photos of Gaon's once-happy family, reads SNS posts mourning the closure of their family restaurant, the police reports about the suicides, the note in Gaon's hospital file that notes that he's going into arrears for his parents' funeral costs. Kim Gaon's social worker talks about him with a sort of resigned apology, approaches Yohan's interest like another black mark in the boy's service jacket. She looks at Yohan's suit and briefcase, takes his business card and calls him Lawyer Kang, spills the whole of Gaon's history, reassures Yohan that however self-destructive, however volatile, Kim Gaon's never displayed any violent tendencies toward children, that Lawyer Kang should feel free to reach out immediately if he feels concern that Gaon has become Elijah's friend.

"If you'd like me to speak to him, to tell him you're not comfortable with him spending time with you niece, I completely understand," his social worker says. 

Kim Gaon has been treated for two different STIs and tried to kill himself with a motorcycle three months ago. The only people he has left in the world are a childhood friend from down the street and Judge Min Jeongho, who used to eat lunch at the Kim's restaurant every day. 

Kim Gaon is 17 and entirely alone.

Yohan smiles at her. "No need," he reassures her. "I'll handle this on my own." 

***

Too much of Kim Gaon's character reference is ultimately hearsay. Yohan doesn't trust himself, exactly, but he trusts his judgement, so he watches quietly from the sidelines, collecting data. Yohan hears all the nurses talk about how Gaon is achingly polite, how they can't understand how such a nice boy could be such an evident wild child he would ride motorcycles with reckless lack of self preservation. He watches Gaon do other peoples' homework, quizzing them on Joseon history and showing a middle schooler who's learning how to write with his left hand trigonometry. Kim Gaon plays Smash Brothers with a flock of elementary school kids and ruthlessly kicks their asses every single time.

The Kim Gaon that's considered a neighborhood menace, the one sends his teachers into a blind fury, that's the protective armor. Yohan knows from defensive adaptations. 

But being a nice kid isn't the same as belonging in Elijah's life in any meaningful way, Yohan acknowledges, and spends a pointless day drafting soul-killing discovery motions and wondering why he's devoting so much time to this distraction. Maybe it's how Elijah's sleeping through the nights better, communicating her pain and what she needs better. Maybe it's how she tells stories about her friend Gaon, and it briefly feels as if they've traveled backward through time, that Yohan's watching her for the night, hearing and becoming deeply invested in all of her day care drama. 

"Elijah-ah, why do you like Gaon so much?" Yohan asks her one night, midway through the intricate ritual of her bedtime routine.

From her bed, Elijah says, "Gaon is funny and cats like him and also his parents are dead, so someone has to take care of him," and without missing a beat, points her sparkling princess wand toward the closet, commanding, "Check there, too." 

Yohan climbs off of the floor where he'd been checking under the bed and goes.

"Would you want to see Gaon even outside of the hospital?" he asks her, doing a careful four-point inspection of the closet: more clothes than one child could ever wear, 200 pairs of shoes, a stuffed sheep the size of a horse—no monsters. "Closet's clear."

Elijah makes a considering noise. "Gaon-oppa said he was a really good cook, so I want to eat his food," she decides, and shy now, she waves Yohan toward her, tiny hands flapping. "Samchon, come here. I want to tell you a secret."

Yohan cherishes every secret he has with Elijah. Since she was born, he's kept so many for her: that she stole a cookie, that she's really really not scared of thunder, that she loves her uncle best, that church is boring. 

"I'm ready," Yohan promises, and sits at the edge of her bed with his most serious expression. 

Elijah looks left and right, as if there are spies around every corner, before she cups her hands around her mouth and Yohan curls over her so that she can whisper:

"Sometimes I forget I'm sad about Mom and Dad, but Gaon-oppa says that's okay because I never forget that I love them." 

It lands somewhere in Yohan's soft underbelly, in the forever ache of his scare tissue. He looks down into Elijah's solemn little face, her riverstone eyes, and he wonders what kind of benevolent God allows this—forces children to patch one another's broken hearts. He used to wish that he would have died instead, that he could trade himself for Isaac, for Heejin, but he's comforted Elijah through too many nightmares of his own death to entertain it any longer. Love's always been a chain, whether wrapped around his wrist with a cross or trapping him in his father's house. 

"You will, you always will," he whispers back. 

"And they love me, too, of course, in heaven," she tells him, with the haughty confidence of a spoilt only child, who'd grown up with three adults circling around her in constant adulation. 

"And I love you here, on Earth," he says, and does not add, your grandfather loves you, too, from where he's burning in hell.

Elijah goes suddenly quiet, thoughtful and a little distant, and Yohan waits patiently until she says at last, "Gaon doesn't think his parents love him in heaven." 

Yohan stills. "Did he say that?" 

"He told his friend, the unni that visits sometimes," Elijah reports, and staring dead into Yohan's eyes, she adds, "I was hiding behind a curtain listening. He also said he can't be her boyfriend." 

"Okay, well, time for little goblins to go to sleep," Yohan says, because he absolutely cannot start laughing about this because somewhere out there, in the beautiful hereafter that Isaac so fervently believed in, he would be furious if Yohan encouraged this kind of behavior.

***

For all Yohan's been investigating the mystery of Kim Gaon, he's wholly unprepared to be confronted by the reality of the boy while sitting in the hospital cafe at half past five, working his way through a stack of files for court the next day.

"Kang Yohan-sshi?" comes a voice, and when Yohan looks up, it's into the shaggy bangs and thin face of the boy who makes Elijah laugh, standing awkwardly at the edge of his table.

"Ah," he says, flipping his pen across his knuckles. "You're Kim Gaon."

Gaon's eyes round. "You recognize me?" 

"The nurses tell me you're friends with Elijah," Yohan says, and waves at one of the empty chairs at the table, shuffles a few folders around to make room. "Please."

It takes more than a little maneuvering for Gaon to take the offered seat, between his backpack and his crutches, his leg still in its cast, and Yohan offers him a steadying arm, takes his bag, helps shift the table this way and that way. Gaon looks mortified the whole time by these small courtesies, stumbling over thank yous and apologies. It tells on him in ways Gaon can't possibly know, but that Yohan can't possibly ignore.

"What brings you to my temporary office?" Yohan asks, when he's sure the kid isn't going to tip over and break anything else, and is only in immediate danger of blushing to death.

Gaon squares his shoulders, and taking a deep breath, says, "I wanted to talk to you about a cat."

This is how Yohan learns that the orange furball that he's first seen that day in the OT room all those many weeks ago is a stray that's been named Gam, and that Elijah's youthful enthusiasm for petty hospital-based crime has undergone a metamorphosis toward more elaborate heists.

"Not that I don't admire her ambition, but I'm pretty sure you'd notice the yowling lump in her sweater when you pick her up from OT," Gaon says, still nervous and too polite, darting wary little glances upward at Yohan. "I tried to talk her out of it, but she started arguing about how cold it was going to get and I had to admit defeat."

Yohan feels the corners of his mouth curl up, reflexive. "There's wisdom in recognizing when you're beaten," he says. "And I appreciate your letting me know."

"Sure," Gaon says before going quiet for a long measure, some unfinished sentence still hidden behind his lashes. Yohan's patient, waits him out, and is rewarded when a half-minute passes and Gaon says, with a brittle courage and poorly concealed vulnerability, "I—I'd take him with me if I could. I like Gam. But the house where I have to stay won't allow pets."

Yohan can hear a universe in between the confession here: that Gaon must have been worried about the cold weather long before Elijah even noticed, that he'd tried to find an answer all on his own. Yohan feels, tugging in the hollow underneath his breastbone, a hurtful recognition of a younger version of himself, all those raw edges fraying, and maybe—sitting here—he can understand a little of Isaac's quiet sadness, the way Yohan had carried all his suffering alone, as a matter of course, without ever trying to ask for help. 

He looks at the slope of Gaon's shoulders, the wrinkled collar of his school uniform shirt, his terrible haircut, the little divot of a piercing in his ear. Yohan thinks about the sunburst of Elijah's laughter and all the terrible things he's willing to do to sustain it; it's strange to realize he hadn't anticipated something so easy, something that wouldn't hurt at all. 

"Do me a favor," Yohan sighs.

Gaon's head darts up. "Um—if I can?" he says.

"Back me up when I tell her that I thought long and hard about this, and that I'm going to be a strict taskmaster about this cat," Yohan says, with a rueful certainty that there's no way in hell that Elijah is going to buy this narrative, because it looks like the sun is rising in the brightness of Gaon's eyes, the pink happiness of his too-thin cheeks. This kid couldn't lie effectively if his life depended on it. In this light, Gaon looks a little like Isaac, if Isaac was too thin and too hopeful, all gamine pleasure; it makes Yohan feel his bones creak just to look at him. 

"I will, I absolutely will," Gaon promises, smiling now and still shy, but so achingly sweet that it makes Yohan want to buy him hot chocolate, to tell him he's done a good job, to ask if he's eaten dinner. 

He forebears, and starts packing up his work documents instead. 

"Come on," he tells Gaon. "If I'm going to make a fool of myself trying to trap a feral hospital cat, you're coming with me."

Yohan ends up scratched to hell and back, his hand-tailored wool trousers covered in mud, while  Gaon laughs at him with a wide-open happiness that makes something in Yohan's chest feel too big for his rib cage. He decides not to think about it in favor of fetching Elijah from her PT and ferrying her down to his car, where Gaon is waiting for them both, a sulking Gam zipped into the front of his hoodie like an uncooperative child. His smile could light every building in Gangnam. Elijah's shriek of pure joy when she spots him leaves Yohan half-deaf for the drive home, and so the warm patter of Elijah and Gaon talking in the backseat rolls over him in indistinct syllable noises until he drops Gaon off at his group home and helps him to the door. 

"Thank you, for today," Gaon tells him, starry and still rosy, covered in cat hair. 

"Elijah's already drawing up plans for shared custody, so don't be a stranger," Yohan warns. 

He'd been ordered by Elijah to participate in an exchange of contact information with Gaon because everybody in the car had a unique and unaddressed relationship with the trauma of abandonment, and so of course Gam could not be suddenly bereft of one of his humans.

"I won't, I promise," Gaon swears, and nods back toward the car, where Elijah is holding Gam up against the window and waving his paw at them. "You should get her home."

Elijah talks nonstop during the drive out of the urban density of Seoul into the forested beyond where their family home is perched on a melodramatic cliff above a lake. Yohan hears about her nurses, her rivalry with another little boy in OT who sounds like he has a world-ending crush on her Gaon-oppa, and listens to the way Elijah sometimes stops mid-sentence when Gam meows at her and then replies, as if she can understand cat. 

Whatever is bubbling in his veins, its too violent to be the warm kindness of joy. This ferocity feels like some holy gratitude, feels like the way Isaac used to talk about God. Yohan has never any good at faith, but he thinks—to himself, so loudly he hears it over the roar of blood in his ears and the chattering happiness of Elijah, vividly alive—he thinks, thank you, thank you, to whoever is listening: to God, to fate, to fortune, to the fucking cat—to Gaon, waving at Elijah with both hands, a smile on his face and Gam curled close against his chest. 

[gentledawn]

Princess Flamingo and Primrose.

Princess Flamingo is distantly related to Queen Glory, being the adopted child of Jambu and Pineapple. She is technically not a princess, but due to the looser rules of the RainWing Kingdom, she is regarded as such.

Despite this, they are actually extremely polite and she helps to run one of the first ever reading and writing schools in the Rainforest. They help everyone who comes by to ask; adults, juveniles, and dragonets. She doesn’t just help RainWings, as she also helps those from other tribes.

Flamingo has not lover, and no child, and she doesn’t feel the need for either right now, as she has her talons full with being the Headmaster of the School.

Due to the stress of being a Princess, and having to run the school, she adopted a sloth and named them Primrose, and Primrose is her emotional support animal.