#kimowrites

[dandyfelines]

Alflear Week (1)

bed-ridden/sleep/firsts

(Still a WIP, so I plan to finish it later.) for @malflearweek

--

The first time it happened, his head could just about peek over the bed the Divine Dragon slept upon. Alfred didn’t need to stand on his tiptoes to see the wisps of blue and red hair framing the Divine Dragon’s cheeks, but he still couldn’t see his entire face. His mother had lifted him up a few times to see the Divine Dragon fully, and Alfred vaguely recalled his shirt had two large dark blue lines. But from this angle, he could only see a criss-crossing golden pattern and a lot of white.

He loved coming here. Most of his days were spent in bed or visiting the doctor. His mother had said he needed to do physical therapy in order to get stronger. He liked the idea of getting stronger, but he also wanted a friend. He wanted someone else to talk to about his day or about the flowers he saw from the castle windows.  Everyone told him the Divine Dragon was listening carefully and lovingly to those who visited him. So even if Alfred didn’t get a direct reply back, it was fine. 

“Hi, Divine One! It’s Alfred. Wait, um….” He clasped his hands in prayer. “Divine One, thank you for allowing me into your sacred place of rest. Okay, that should be good, right? I wanna tell you about my day!

“Today I saw some hummingbirds in the garden! They were so small and fast, they just zoomed past me. They really liked the flowers, too. And then, Mother taught me how to make a flower crown. She called it something like… ger land? I forgot!

“I wish you could see the flower crown I’m wearing today. Maybe I’ll make one for you, too. I don’t think it’s disturr, um, disturbing your sleep if I put it on very quietly. Maybe I’ll get really good at it, and then I can make lots for my little sister! She is still a baby, so I’ll have to make little ones. I would make lots of flower crowns for my friends. But I don't know when I'll see them again.

“I just want to have more friends around… I mean, you are my friend, too, but you can’t play tag with me or practice duels, or walk with me in the garden…

“...Unless you woke up right now! You don’t wanna be stuck in bed either, right? Then we could be best friends! Hm. Maybe you just need help… ngh…��

Alfred stood on his tiptoes and stretched out an arm for anywhere he could reach. His fingers brushed against some fabric from the Divine Dragon’s sleeves. He repeatedly grasped at that area until a clump of white and gold was firm in his hold. Then, he tugged.

“Please?” he whispered, timid. His mother had told him many times to never disturb the Divine Dragon’s slumber. Reminded of her words, Alfred reluctantly allowed the fabric to slip from his fingers. Shame burned his cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Divine One. I think we have to be friends just like this, with you sleeping. But can you wake up someday soon, please? Then, I’ll show you the pretty flowers in Firene and watch butterflies. Or maybe we could even see a deer! And I’ll make you a flower crown!”

---

Alfred was sure the second time was an accident. He had outgrown his childhood fantasies of playing tag with the Divine Dragon, after all, and the weight of his responsibilities began to settle on his conscience. He visited the Somniel less often, now that his health had improved and other activities filled his daily life. Every time he came, though, lifted his spirits.

“Divine One, Céline can’t come today. It’s been a while since it was just me, hasn’t it? There’s a lot to catch up on, and I can’t wait for you to hear all about it.

“Well, Céline completely outclasses me in magic. She really has a talent for it. Yesterday, she burned a training dummy to ashes, and it was just her first week using fire magic. I tried to learn some magic myself, but I guess I’ll just have to stick to physical weaponry. I’m getting really good at the lance, now. I want to be as good as Father was at it, so I still have to work harder.

“Oh, and we learned about who our retainers will be! We were thinking Céline’s would be Etie. They were practically joined at the hip as children, so imagine my surprise when she was assigned to me. Instead, her new retainers are a woman and man, Chloe and Louie. I knew Louie from his knighthood training at the castle, but I’ve never met Chloe before. She and Céline seemed to know each other. I thought Céline told me everything, but even she keeps some secrets. 

“My retainers are my trusted friends, Etie and Boucheron. Getting to train with two of the strongest people I know… Divine One, I couldn’t be happier! Oh, you’re really strong too. You vanquished the Fell Dragon before! It’s a shame we can’t practice sparring matches together, but… but anything could happen. Right?

“No doubt you’re listening to me, because you have given me the strength to be a prince to my people, and I am grateful. A lot of it was my own work, too, but you really are a true friend, looking out after me. So you know my deepest wish. I get it, you need more time to heal from your wounds, more time than I needed… but…

“I might not even get to ascend the throne. When I start thinking about that, I feel so sickened that I might leave mother and Céline alone… how can I be a worthy prince? I hate thinking that some things just weren’t meant to be. You probably can’t make it go away, but if there was any way to make sure I could at least take care of Firene, Divine One… please. I don’t want to lose the joys I have, spending time with Etie and Boucheron, ruling with Céline and Mother, and being able to talk to you.

“I am scared, Divine One. What will happen to me? I wish I knew what you were thinking right now. Can you share a sign, anything?” Alfred scanned the Divine Dragon’s face for any response, a twitch of the nose, a deeper breath than usual, maybe even a smile. 

“It’s alright, I really enjoy talking to you all the same. I’ll keep my health up, so that we can talk for as many years as I have left. I promise to treasure each and every moment we have together. …I’ve seen Céline do this thing called a pinky promise before. I wonder if we could…”

Those words were a mere suggestion, not even taken form, when he noticed the hands folded across the Divine Dragon’s chest twitched. Alfred’s eyes widened. A low, short grunt emerged from the body lying in front of him.

Alfred heard his heartbeat accelerate. Could it be? All those years of his childhood dreaming of seeing the Divine Dragon’s eyes with his own, realized? After a moment passed without incident, he exhaled. He would just have to train more, eat well, work hard and perhaps, one day, he could share his joy with the one who was there for him for all his years.

[dandyfelines]

Donro University AU (wip)

A late submission for Day 6: AU of @donro-week

It's only half-finished and not beta-read but, well, it's a University AU with a little bit of a spin on Donald and Gyro's personalities.

Gyro Gearloose prided himself on his ability to solve nearly any problem. He was the self-proclaimed inventor of almost anything. Throughout school, he made little gadgets for his classmates; some of his favourites were a device that perfectly steadied a compass, a machine that restored soggy lunchbox food to a fresh state, and a hyper-accurate paper ball flinger to get back at an irritating bully. In academia, he excelled, and people came to him for help working out a puzzling formula. 

In his pursuit of heightening the limits of his inventions, he found an enriching opportunity in engineering research at Duckburg University. Prominent minds such as Professor Ludwig von Drake would be amongst his co-workers if he researched there, so in a short matter of time he created a research proposal that they couldn't refuse.

Under one condition. He had to teach a class.

He had never taught before, but he was good at helping people. Surely, teaching was simply an extended version of that. He would craft the parts and tinker with the variables necessary to create a functional, informative curriculum.

He covered every detail the textbook required of him, and more. He stayed up watching the lectures of Professor Ludwig von Drake and took notes on how to improve upon his lessons.

Yet, in spite of overwhelming evidence, a good scientist knew to qualify his statements carefully: Gyro Gearloose, the inventor of almost anything. 

He read the emails from his students and, he wouldn’t admit it, a review on an anonymous professor rating website. They could be summarised into two types of feedback:

“Lectures confusing” “Professor Gearloose is a brilliant inventor, but cannot teach to save his life.”

Gyro Gearloose’s tall, lanky figure slunk into his chair. His body sagged down like a sack of potatoes.  

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

"... So if you just report the results of your test in this format,  you can use the data to formulate your own hypothesis."

The young moorhen sitting across from him stroked her red beak. "Oh, I see now. I guess I misunderstood the instructions. But… how do I know which theories to apply?"

"You have to think about it on your own! If you run the tests again, it will make sense."

"Hm, alright. I have to go, Professor. Thanks for your time."

"Of course, if you need help again, just use my office hours." Gyro sighed. Milly was a hard-worker who did well in most courses, but she was the worst performing student in his class. Her understanding of math wasn't bad, so Gyro did not know how to help her. All of his students had potential to be clever thinkers, but they were befuddled in his classroom.

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

Gyro’s mind worked at high speed. They possessed his hands. Out tumbled the numbers and theorems through furious scratching of chalk. The board was all his to fill. 

Knock-knock. 

The chalk came to a halt. A synapse was snapped. Gyro bemoaned the lost train of thought, but he hollered, “Come in!”

“Sorry, is now a good time?” That voice belonged to the receptionist of student services.

“What do you need?” Gyro set down the chalk.

A familiar duck’s face peered through the crack of the door. He had white fluffy feathers, and stray ones curled on his forehead and tail. He wore his usual outfit, a sweater vest and a puffy red bowtie. Donald stepped into his room, slow and deliberate. 

"Well, I have another request from one of your students. They said this new lecture covered content not in the textbook, so they want you to share some additional reading on that topic."

"Yeah, I received about twenty emails this morning telling me the same." Gyro sighed. 

"Right. And I wanted to ask for your permission to form an official study support session for your class. If that's ok, I'll go ahead and organise it."

Gyro clutched onto the edge of the desk and frowned. Then, he took a deep breath. "No. That's not quite what I had in mind. No, I ought to be in charge of this problem." He tapped a finger on his chin. "I know they find it confusing, but it's my job as their professor to guide them. Maybe I just need to invent a device that simplifies my speech, or I could make a script generator that factors in what students need in a lesson… "

Donald stepped backwards. He took out a notebook from his pocket and flipped through a few pages. "Well… if you're sure you can help them before midterm, I suppose..."

Gyro nodded. "I'm sure I can solve this. You'll see."

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

Two weeks later, time allocated to his office hours dwarfed his research progress. A barrage of emails from confused students flooded his inbox. The negative reviews on that website only increased. 

"I just don't understand. I tried to use a script with simplified language instead of improvising on the spot, but they are still confused." Gyro bit into his sandwich.

Sitting across from him, Ludwig von Drake scratched his head. "Hm, sounds like a tricky class. Have you tried to give quizzes? See what they do and don't know."

"Of course I have, and I reviewed the problem areas they had trouble with. But then when it comes to new content, the problem arises again! I just can't figure out what is causing it. It takes too much time away from my research to create a new review session every week."

"Well, perhaps you could get some advice from my nephew. You know, he could probably find you since good resources."

Gyro blinked. "Nephew? How can he help?"

"Why, he's a whiz at finding information on just about any topic. You've seen it for yourself, surely."

"Just to be clear, your nephew is–"

“Oh, hiya Gyro! And Uncle Ludwig!” Donald pranced over to their table, using a single hand to carry a tray above his head.

Gyro grimaced as some soup splashed on his wrist when Donald slammed the tray down.

"Ah, there he is!" Ludwig beamed at Donald, who was now scraping a nearby chair across the floor to make a table for three.

"Hope it's fine if I join you!" Donald picked up a spoon.

"You've already made yourself welcome," Gyro commented.

Ludwig turned to his nephew and directed his attention to Gyro with a flat palm. "Say, Donald. Gyro here has a problem with making clear lectures. Do you know of anything he can use to improve?"

He tapped his beak with the spoon. "Well, there's a website I like to refer to for teaching methods. And I must have an old textbook in my office on basic pedagogy." Donald looked at Gyro. "What are you teaching right now?"

“Newtonian mechanics!” Gyro grumbled. “The textbook teaches it even though it is an outdated system!”

Donald hummed. “Well… most subjects are like that. The introductory level is simplified for a reason, you know.”

Gyro shook his head. “But I’m sure these students will be able to learn much better if they start with the concepts that account for our modern understanding the best.”

“Surely that's not how you started learning engineering?”

"I didn't need the school system to teach me that."

"I see… well, in any case I can find a resource to help you teach. If you apply these concepts to your class, I'm sure their testing scores will improve."

"Oh, that's not necessary."

Donald held up a hand to silence him. "I insist! My main work is student support, but I've been known to help staff too."

Gyro tapped his fingers against the table. "You don't understand. I'm trying to set these students up to have an investigative approach to inventing. Build important research skills, figure out how systems interact through observation. I don't need help teaching the material or upping test scores. It's about getting them to think more critically."

Donald shrunk into the seat. "I can still send you some resources."

Ludwig looked between the two of them. "Goodness, I’ll leave you two to sort this out.”

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

Gyro looked at the results of the tests. They were lower than he expected, and the most commonly missed questions were from material he had covered in his lectures twice. Then he came across Milly’s test. Apprehensively, he graded it, checking through the questions. There was a marked increase in depth and comprehension to her short form responses. She had compared the similarities and overlap between two different principles and speculated on the potential ways these could be applied in practice. Pleased, Gyro wrote her grade down. It still wasn't at the level he'd expect, but for this student, it was a great improvement. 

Though, as one who made a living of research and experiments, a question tugged at his curiosity. Why did she perform well on this test? He hadn’t changed anything in his teaching for the previous lectures. The test itself was formatted and questions selected exactly as the mock exam was, so it couldn't be that, either. 

Gyro decided to ask her. He could use that knowledge to help the other students succeed.

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

 “Professor, thanks again for explaining this to me.” Milly slid the textbook in her backpack.

“Of course. Seems like you’re getting a better grasp of things!”

“I figured out a study method that works for me,” she said.

This was what he wanted to know. “Could you tell me what you changed in your studying approach?”

Milly zipped her bag as she spoke, “It wasn’t really me, but I went to the student support services and they showed me different studying tips and methods.”

That had his attention. “...I see. Well, it seems to be working for you, so you’re on the right path. I’ll see you next week.” 

“See you, Professor.” She exited his office.

Gyro turned around to his computer and stared at the emails from Donald he had left unopened.

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

What was Donald doing right that he couldn’t grasp? The thought drove him mad. It also drove him to be sitting as an observer for “Research Literacy,” watching Donald Duck give a presentation.

“Good afternoon! Now, raise your hand if you’ve written an essay with sources mostly taken from Wikipedia’s citations…”

The workshop had him floored. He was drawn in by Donald’s simple, yet engaging language. Gyro knew how to research, he had made a living of it, after all, but Donald managed to keep his interest throughout the entire workshop with a unique analogy or a silly joke.

Plus, it was just as interactive as he’d like to make his classes. Donald had asked the students to form groups and put the concepts to practice by giving them a random topic that they had to find five sources for. They were presented hypothetical, believable problems of when the literature for a topic was lacking or when a potential source was inaccessible, and he had guided the students to their own original solutions. Gyro was merely an observer, but he wished he could have partaken in the class activities and discussions. He was confined to the back, but he imagined the responses he would give in the group discussions, and the personal experiences he could share.

What wealth of knowledge did that duck have? He knew now that this was an opportunity he had once made the mistake of rejecting. When the students chattering faded dispersed from the class and joined the hallway, he made his move. Donald was still unplugging his laptop from the socket.

Gyro bolted towards Donald with a wild urgency. “You!"

"Me!" Donald exclaimed, pointing at himself.

 Why didn’t you tell me before?!” he gasped between pants.

Donald tilted his head ever so slightly. “Tell you what?”

Gyro frowned. Did he have to spell it out to him? “You are good at teaching! Tell me your ways!”

At that, Donald’s bubbly demeanor dropped into something more serious. “Look, Gyro… I’m not a teacher. And the kind of content you teach in your lectures is leagues beyond what I can help you with.”

“B-but– I..”

With a guarded attitude, Donald picked up his planner and leafed through a few pages. “I’m sure there’s a workshop I can find for you to help you with your problem,” he spoke with an unusual air of distant professionalism.

"No, can't you see? It has to be you," Gyro said desperately. “I… am sorry for ignoring your advice earlier.”

Donald was moved by that. "You're sure you want me?"

Gyro nodded fiercely.

"Well, okay. Fine. Let's meet during lunch?"

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

Amidst the cafeteria’s droning conversations composed of students and staff alike, Gyro and his coach sat in a high-seated table for two by the windows across the salad bar. 

Donald was reading his lecture notes in silence. With nothing else to do, Gyro noticed how the dust particles floating in the air took up the appearance of sparkles in the sunlight. They drifted around Donald, whose feathers shone a golden trim around his silhouette. It was because of the waterproof oil, he knew, but the sight was serene.

Then, their gazes connected. Gyro inhaled sharply, and he thought he saw Donald’s eyes widen. In a blink, the lecture papers were returned to his possession. 

“The first thing that stood out to me is the timing of these activities. I’m not sure they will be finished as quickly as you think.”

“But I need them. If I lengthened one, there wouldn’t be enough time for the others,” Gyro argued.

Donald crossed his arms. “Right, ok. Do you need to cover all this material?”

“Of course I do. I am not cutting anything out.”

He sighed. “Then, we still need to make modifications. Let’s go back to the basics. What do you want your students to accomplish by the end of the lecture? It’s really important to set a learning objective.”

“On that thought, I should have the students write down these learning objectives at the end of my presentation.” Gyro noted his idea down, then he addressed him. “I see your point. Instead of disparate activities on each individual concept, perhaps I can have them analyse an experiment through guided discussions. This allows them to see it in application and discover them independently.”

“It’s not a bad idea, actually. That’s an inductive learning approach.” Donald looked him up and down. “Now that I think about it, it really suits your style.”

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

The second time they met, they shared lunch in Gyro's office.

Gyro paced back and forth, hand on his forehead. “I've tried everything I thought of! Prepared notes, giving examples, slowing my pace… but they still think my lectures are confusing.”

Donald, who had been eating and watching him pace, set down his sandwich. “I watched your lecture recordings last night. Here's what I think. First, you are trying to define an inertial frame using concepts they don’t understand yet. They don’t need to know about how it relates to absolute space-time and the Theory of Relativity at this stage. This is an introductory level class.”

“Right… so you're saying I should simplify even more. But how?” He pulled out the chair and sat down.

“Let me try. This is on Newtonian mechanics?” Donald cleared his throat. “Newtonian mechanics applies Newton’s Laws of Motion to a system of objects. Raise your hand if you know of Newton’s Laws of Motion.” 

Gyro reluctantly raised his hand after a long stare from Donald.

“Good! Now, does anybody remember the three laws?” He paused, then spoke in a more casual voice, “Then you go through them, one by one. Including the formulae.” 

He mimed a screen projector by outlining a rectangle in the air and pointed at imaginary examples within it. Continuing the demonstration, his voice picked up in volume and authority once again. “Let’s look at the formulae. As long as no force is acting on it, what do you notice about the velocity?”

“And here, you use the formulae to show that velocity is absolute, just as the law of inertia states. The students should be able to work it out themselves without you telling them directly. Then, ta-da! This is called an inertial frame of reference.”

“After that, you define ‘frame of reference,’” Donald spoke in his normal voice. “You can use an example, such as… if you’re standing on a high-speed train, then from your frame of reference, you aren’t moving. But to someone on the ground, you are moving quite fast,” he said. “Something like that. My high school physics knowledge is failing me right now.”

Gyro stared at him in awe. “That was… simple. It's exactly what I need.”

Donald combed a hand through his head feathers, tickled pink by the praise. "It's about accommodating for your audience," he said, "Not everyone thinks the same way. Some people have a harder time understanding complex, abstract concepts, so they need a more concrete base to work from."

Gyro nodded, and scribbled his words into a notepad.

Donald pointed a finger at him. "You are the expert. It's your job to know how to simplify it for these beginners."

"I thought I was simplifying. But I never thought to do it this way." He looked at Donald. “I never had an interest in teaching, I suppose. Did you take it as a degree?”

"Well, I've never completed university myself."

That grabbed Gyro's attention. "You didn't? Then how do you know about teaching?"

Donald shifted in his seat. "Ah, well. It was one of the many odd jobs I took back then. Tutor, substitute teacher, that thing." 

"And you just picked all of this up from experience?"

Donald shrugged. "Mostly. I studied a little bit, but that kind of stuff is not my strong suit."

Gyro looked at him with surprise. "Then, perhaps, we have more in common than I thought."

[dandyfelines]

Boats

Fanfiction for Day 3: Boats of @donro-week!

Shape of Change

As he pushed his cart down the street, Gyro Gearloose spotted a curiosity in the front yard of 1313 Webfoot Walk. 

Donald Duck sat on the grass folding a paper boat. 

In fact, he surmised, given the sprinkle of scattered paper boats strewn around him, he had been folding them for some time.

Gyro was of an investigative disposition, so he abandoned his cart of tinkerings and gadgets to uncover the mental mechanisms behind the paper-folding mania.

This sheet of paper had Donald bound in an unblinking transfixation. His tongue stuck out in concentration as he folded it. In this state, the usual nuisances of squirrels chattering above him or the hiss of nextdoor neighbour Jones' lawnmower seemed to roll off his bubble of hyperfocus. He could commit his mind to any little oddity, and that quality always endeared him to Gyro.

He made a cacophony of his entry, knocking the mailbox and exclaiming, "Morning, Donald!"

Donald perked up at Gyro's arrival, as he always did, and waved at him. "Hiya, Gyro!"

“What have we here?” He eyed Donald's fingers pressing a crease into the sheet of paper, folding two symmetrical halves.

With a smug grin that betrayed his bemusement, Donald said, "Why, these things? They are called paper boats."

For the sake of theatrics, Gyro sighed. He joined him in the grass, smiling despite himself. "Very funny. But what for? Helping the kids' with a school project, perhaps?"

Donald's face of cheer unmasked into something morose. "No, I just wanted to get out of the house. A lot has been going on, and it's overwhelming." He flopped backwards into the grass. The paper boat tumbled out of his grasp, joining the rest in becoming bright white lawn ornaments.

Gyro waved a fresh sheet pinched between his fingers and let it rustle. "Shall I take over on boat-making while you rest?"

A single thumbs up popped out from the grass. 

So he started folding, flipping, creasing the sheet of paper with the press of two fingers, hearing it schliff. He transported himself to a time of short desks, tall teachers, and recesses spent in the library, all to access the long-buried knowledge of how to fold a paper boat. No memory was perfect, of course, but eventually, he had a crooked paper boat cupped in his two hands. Some corners stuck out in places and others were dulled by fold retakes. Asymmetry defined each face.

He turned to show his creation of irregular polygons to Donald, who had already sat up with crossed arms and a smug look on his face. Presumably, he had made Gyro’s earnest attempt to create a paper boat into a tragic spectacle.

"Hey, you," Gyro grunted. Possessed by a mischievous urge to get back at the little duck, spurred on by whimsy, he balanced the misshapen boat atop his bill.

It immediately toppled downwards.

Donald snickered, and then there they were. Two adults playing in the grass making paper boats. Donald quacked in laughter, and it wasn’t that amusing, really, but he replayed the moment the boat fell off his beak and maybe it was a little bit funny, so Gyro started laughing too. And was there anything better than sharing a little chortle together on a sunny morning?

When the laughter bubbled down, Donald said, "It's alright."

"Hm?"

Donald picked up a blank sheet. "Folding paper shapes is hard. Surprisingly hard. It requires a lot of attention and precision, and at first it felt like I couldn't ever do it well."  His hands worked deftly as he continued, "The boat looks so different from a flat piece of paper, and I'm not very good at visualising how each fold affects the shape. But, you know? I took it little by little. Even though I don't see how, I have to trust that each fold matters." Presented in two hands, he held a freshly made paper boat with crisp edges and clean faces.

“I see we’re not really talking about paper boats, are we.”

Donald tilted his head with a smile and looked at him teasingly. “Nah, I was talking about paper boats.” He set the new one down on the grass. 

Gyro chuckled. “If you say so.” They were, after all, surrounded by paper boats.

"But… I do feel better. The mess indoors has got nothing on me." Donald flexed an arm for emphasis and winked.

Right then, a curiosity struck at his heart.

Gyro leaned forwards and nuzzled the tip of his beak into Donald’s cheek feathers. 

They were soft. Donald leaned into the preening and it filled him with warmth, the kind he felt when they shared a hug, he supposed. The moment passed as quickly as it arose, and mid-morning air filled the gap between them. 

Donald moved to stand up, but his legs trembled. For a second, he inhaled, waiting for something to be released, but he only expelled a breath. Then, he smiled brightly at Gyro and extended his hand out to him.

Naturally, he took it. 

“I’ll help you clean up the yard.”  That was all that needed to be said.

Gyro assessed the task ahead. There were many paper boats littered around the grass. Still, he couldn’t imagine the yard without them after everything that had transpired. It must’ve meant something to Donald, because he kept sneaking glances back at Gyro. He didn’t know the shape of this change, or what it meant. But for now, he simply picked up each boat, one at a time.

QOTD: What's your favourite thing about Donald Duck?

If I had to pick one thing, it's his perseverance. In pretty much every iteration of Donald Duck, he doesn't give up when it's his big moment. He'll come close to it, of course, but at the end of the day he pulls through. He doesn't succeed all the time, but that's what makes him remarkably relatable and admirable. This quality is tied with the fact that he is a family-oriented person. I think Donald is at his most charming and likable when his loyalty and love for family is at the forefront.

[dandyfelines]

Meet The Crescent!

I'm excited to present my Pokemon Mystery Dungeon team for Wayfarer ARPG, The Crescent! The team is comprised of Alvus, the contrast Sobble, and Stella, the inverted Snivy.

You can read more about their stories on their Adventure Log on AO3! You can also send asks about them, and receive in-character replies.

Alvus and Stella share a little bit of history, as Alvus temporarily worked for House Elysia, of which Stella is the youngest child. They befriended each other then, but Alvus did not come to only make friends. They wanted to steal one of House Elysia's rare artifacts known as the Lunar Disc, said to grant extraordinary powers, in order to become stronger. They were successful in their goal and soon left the house, their theft completely undetected.

But Stella could not forget her friend. She managed to track them down and convince Alvus to travel together. Despite Stella being oblivious to their crime, Alvus agreed to travel with her. Now, Alvus has to figure out how to use the Lunar Disc without Stella catching on...

If you want to participate in Wayfarer, the group will have an open beta on March 1st! You will need a ToyHouse to register.

[dandyfelines]

Alflear Week (2)

enjoy this unedited first draft lol. More sad Alear than Alflear, admittedly. For @malflearweek

The blizzard was cold. Nothing alive should be here. He just had to do his work for Sombron… for Father. It should have been simple, solitary. But now there was someone with his face. He looked just like what he saw in the mirror, except his hair had a blue half. Instead of two crimson eyes, he had a blue one.

He could summon Emblems, too. Was he a Fell Dragon too? But those Emblems could talk. Their faces shone with life. Their hairstyles were vibrant with colors. His own Emblems looked unfeeling and lifeless. Fell Dragons didn’t need such things.

The person across from him had companions in the Emblems and a group of humans. They all rallied behind the strange dragon. He didn’t shout at them or threaten them. His voice was soft, welcoming, and responded to his followers’. It was strange. That was supposed to be a weakness. Leaders weren’t supposed to have companions. But they smiled at each other. For some reason, they all listened to him.

There was another strange thing. The human with the flower garland held his hand. He squeezed it back. The way they looked at each other, he thought this was love. Not the love he felt for his sister, or the one he wanted from Father. This was the strange love he saw in picture books.

He had to fight them. It made his stomach churn. He took so many lives already, and now he had to fell someone who looked like him. Maybe that was why everyone loved the one with his face. He didn’t look like someone who had to kill mercilessly. No, this was the thinking of a defect. It was time to fight.

The human with the flower crown– Alfred, he’d heard– met his sword with a lance. He was strong, but… his attacks were tepid. This, too, was strange. He had seen Alfred dispatch the corrupted with ease. He only needed a single, mighty swing. Now, when engaged in combat with a distinct advantage, this human couldn't disarm him.He locked eyes with his opponent. The fierce anger that burned when he fought the corrupted dissipated. Instead, he looked sad. Perhaps not sad, but pity, he realized. For him, a defect? For him, someone who couldn't fully silence the swirl of doubt in his heart? Could a dragon like him be pitied?

It was the one with his face who struck him down, his hands trembling around his sword. Even at the brink of defeat, he was pitied. They were stronger than him. They should use it to finish him off. He shouldn't be here anymore. But they just faded into the snowstorm, their dark figures knit together as one.

He wasn’t strong. He could not love. What did he have? The last of his energy drained out as he lay in the snow, he dreamed about what it was like to be loved.…From the distance, a dragon with luminous blue hair approached.