#my fandom hopping skills is wild

[rubytheyubi]

Somehow I fell back into Monster High, SIGHH

Anyways I can’t stop thinking about the angst potential with these two so I drew this :]

[captainderyn]

[Fictober24] Day 2: "It's been a long time."

Prompt: "It's been a long time."

Fandom: LOTRO

Pairings: Wulfwryn/Raenor

Warnings: None

Summary: A young Faewryn spins tales of the Dunedain, playing pretend in a grand adventure. Along the way she learns of old friends of Raenor and Wulfwryn.

Translations:

Telellë: little elf Ada: dad henig: my child emil: mother

----

Tales of the Dunedain were fraught with danger, adventure, and feats that defied what seemed possible. The stories swirled vividly in Faewryn’s mind, spun by the skillful voice of Aragorn to a rapt Eldarion and her the afternoon prior. Both her ada and mother had told her bedtime stories of rangers as well, and she knew the songs her ada sang of them by heart. 

This afternoon she was not Faewryn, the Gondorian half-elf, but one of the Dunedain, proud and tall, forging through distant lands, searching for a foul creature that threatened all of Man. The stone around her did not make up the walls of her family home in Minas Tirith; it was a forgotten hideout in the deep woods. Within her hideout she peeked through the windows—watching for the signal that marked a sighting of her mark. 

There! A bird call. That was the signal, she had to move now! 

Faewryn scrambled down from her perch by the window, scanning the room for her supplies. She snatched her wooden sword in its cloth sheath from the doorway of her bedroom as well as the dark brown throw blanket from the foot of her bed. Slinging the blanket around her shoulders, she tied it in a fumbling knot, only for it to come undone and fall around her feet as soon as she moved. 

That wouldn’t do, it wouldn’t do at all. She had to make haste! The Enemy could escape at any time. 

The bird call sounded again, more urgent this time, and Faewryn gasped. She hurried into her parents room, tugging along the small stool from the corner of her own bedroom. 

Using the stool, she stepped onto it and reached for an ornate wooden box sitting on the dresser. Her mother had taken it down several times for her to sort through the broaches and cloak pins, and if there was something she needed urgently now it was a pin. 

Her mother had always cautioned her not to prick her fingers on the sharp edges, but she’d never cautioned Faewryn about using one at all…

A shining cloak pin caught her attention and she picked it up, balancing it in her palms. It was a black broach emblazoned with a six-pointed white star. It reminded Faewryn of her mother’s daily uniform—the colors matched and the star echoed the ones that surrounded the White Tree on all the banners around the city. 

She let the box drop closed and hopped off her step stool, running back to her discarded cloak. Once more the bird all sounded and she fumbled with the pin. 

“I’m coming!” she called, finally getting the clasp to snap. With that she ran for the door, shoving it open with a grunt. Just to slam into a veritable wall of heavy fabric. 

The Enemy was here!

With a great battle shout, Faewryn freed herself of the Enemy’s clutches, shaking the cloth sheath off of her sword after wild waving it about and taking up her stance for battle. 

“Come no further, Enemy!” she cried, brandishing her sword. 

Her mother rocked back on her heels before an amused glint flashed through her eyes. 

“Telellë, you have caught me unarmed!” Wulfwryn exclaimed. 

Faewryn grinned, gesturing broadly with her sword. “Surrender, you can’t win!” 

Wulfwryn gave a beaten sigh, lifting her shoulders up and down dramatically with the motion. “So it would seem…” She said before smiling. “But you’ve underestimated me, warrior!” 

Before Faewryn had the chance to react she was scooped off her feet and hoisted over Wulfwryn’s shoulder. She squirmed but couldn’t free herself and her sword clattered out of her hands. 

“Ada!” She howled, tossing herself around. “Ada, I’ve been captured!” 

Wulfwryn grunted, letting Faewryn down. 

”You’re getting big, henig, I won’t be able to capture you much longer.” she said. 

Faewryn scampered over to her ada, who appeared around the corner. Raenor ran his fingers through her hair as she melted into a hug. She glowered at up at him from beneath furrowed brows. 

“Your warning call didn’t say the enemy was right there.” 

Raenor tossed his free hand up in an oh dear gesture. “Ach! I was never made for scouting. You fight bravely though, henig.” 

Wulfwryn eased herself into a crouch, waving Faewryn over, “What’s the broach you’ve chosen today? Let me see.” 

Faewryn protested when Wulfwryn went to unclip it, tugging her ‘cloak’ more tightly around herself, so she leaned closer to inspect it instead. Her lips pressed together in a wistful smile as she ran her fingers over the six pointed star. 

“Ah, have I ever told you of the story behind this one?” she asked. 

Faewryn shook her head but pointed to the embroidery on Wulfwryn’s overcoat, “No, but I thought it looked like yours, emil.” 

Wulfwryn pushed herself out to her feet, holding out her hand to Faewryn. “Would you like to hear the story?” She asked. 

Grabbing her hand, Faewryn held out her other hand for her father. Raenor fell into step alongside her, holding her hand even as they had to bend and stretch to go single file though the door. 

“Of course I want to hear it!” Faewryn exclaimed, clambering onto her mother’s lap as Wulfwryn pulled out one of the chairs at the table. 

Wulfwryn wrapped her arms around Faewryn, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. Raenor settled in on their other side, leaning his forearms onto the tabletop. 

“That star is that of the Dunedain.” Wulfwryn started, tapping her finger against the cloak clasp. “This one in particular came from a group known as the Grey Company.” 

Faewryn looked down at the broach, mouthing the name to etch it into her memory, “Did you travel with them, emil?” 

“Ay, both your ada and I traveled alongside them for quite a time, through Dunland and times before. It’s been…I’m not sure I can put a count on how many years ago that was.” 

“It’s been a long time.” Raenor agreed. “It is a great honor to receive one such star, and I’m ashamed to admit my own was lost to a place dark and foul during our travels.” 

Faewryn ran her fingers over the indentations of the engravings, eyes wide. 

“Does that mean you’re Rangers?” she asked in awe. 

Wulfwryn laughed, “No, alas, we were simply honored with a token of their kind.” 

A sorrowful look crossed her face and Faewryn shimmied closer, wrapping her arms around her mother’s shoulders. Wulfwryn held her close, deep in thought for a long moment. 

“They were very, very good people.” she finally said. “Would you like to hear some more stories?”  

[wildnya]

hey so if it wasn’t obvious Wild is very shy and has a lot of anxiety when it comes to chatting with people he doesn’t know. it’s something he’s struggled with for a big chunk of his life. he’s incredibly lonely and hasn’t had much support growing up.

but he wants to get more comfortable and work on his social skills. talking with people online is much easier than doing it in person so he wants to start there

so if you guys want to please send us asks about anything! be it about different fandoms, writing tips or suggestions, or you just wanna say something dumb hop into the askbox! if you’re asking a question please mention if you are asking both of us or just Wild, otherwise i’ll assume you’re just asking me.

this is a really big step for him and i’m so proud of my wittle bottom bby man of a friend him!

PS do NOT ask him anything suggestive or straight up nsfw. i will not show him the ask and block anyone that does this if you’re on anon. i’m fine with you asking me if but only do that on out adult blog. unless it’s something lowkey and you feel like it would be okay to ask in a PG13/15+ setting

[invisiblekatanaartwork]

Artist’s Blog #142 - A Fistful of Dollars (1964)

A Fistful of Dollars, Hands Down, A Classic Western

Hands down, A Fistful of Dollars is a classic Western movie – one of the greatest of all time. I once painted Clint’s character from A Fistful of Dollars on a trashed paint can lid and I have pencil sketched his as well. The pencil sketch was a gift to a friend, and I sold the painting to a fellow in Pendleton, SC. To bleed this right on into the next paragraph, I have to say that I think for me, Tombstone is my favorite western movie. I feel like, though, in the western movie fandom that Tombstone may not be considered a Western. Am I wrong, someone please enlighten me. The “Spaghetti Westerns” with Clint Eastwood are my favorite of what I consider to be real westerns though. I feel some philosophy stewing. Hop on your mule or horse, and let’s hit the blog trail.  

A Fistful of Dollars Raises Discussion Points for Me

I really want to get a discussion started around this because I don’t know. There are 2 questions I have. First, I remember my grandfather watching Westerns on TV. I’m from SC and he was too. Why are Westerns so popular amongst old fellows? Culturally, why does this seem to be the case? Second, and this is the real question, who made the best Western / Cowboy movies? Was it John Wayne, Eastwood, or another? I’m not qualified to have a serious opinion because I know so little about the genre. Please someone that knows more than me chime in on this and enlighten me. I am forever a student, and I have these as serious questions.

A Fistful of Dollars Reflects the Untamed Wild West

I feel like, based on what I’ve read, this is a somewhat accurate portrayal of the wild west. With so few lawmen, towns spread miles apart with only horse as transportation, and no internet (say what?), there’s any amount of craziness that could have taken place. If you rob a bank or shoot a cop today, your picture, name, family history, friends, vehicle, etc. can literally be across the entire globe in seconds. It’s not often that you see someone successfully murder someone or rob a bank anymore. It happens, but it’s rarer than ever. I feel that it really would have been a no one is coming to save you, and you must be bad enough to take care of yourself environment. Otherwise, you would be prey. Clint’s character is certainly this type and fits well in the culture.

Eastwood’s Ninja-Like Behaviors in A Fistful of Dollars

A Fistful of Dollars is a ninja movie without the black suit, weapons, and Taijutsu. If you’ve been reading my blogs, you’ll know that ninja movies from the 80s are some of my favorites. You can read one on Revenge of the Ninja here and another on Ninja III here. I am a product of the ‘80s ninja craze in America, so I have studied about the art. Eastwood’s character is what a ninja would have really been like in feudal Japan. Ninja rarely wore black but rather were the “gray man” and fit in with their surroundings. Trickery and psychological manipulation were huge and lesser-known skills of the shinobi. Eastwood’s character uses these beautifully. Firefights and fighting are not too heavily used though which gives the film a nice feel and it keeps the focus on the character’s wit.

Artistic Brilliance in A Fistful of Dollars’ Color Palette

From an artist’s perspective, this movie is fascinating for one main reason, color usage. This one thing may have been my favorite thing about A Fistful of Dollars. I think it was my blog on Bobbie Jo and the Outlaw, which you can read here, that I talked about how loud colors contrast so well against a dull desert landscape. In A Fistful of Dollars, they just have everything dull, and the matching pallet is perfect. The whiskey is a dull brown, the walls are more pale than white, Eastwood’s mule is a gray, and his poncho is a perfect olive green. A Fistful of Dollars is a fantastic story and full of action but, its pace is consistent and so are the colors. The only thing bright was the Hammer film style blood that looked more like bright red melted wax than anything else.

English Class Analytics Paper, Get Film in the Hat

I imagine that English class is still like it was in the late ‘90s and students write papers providing an analysis of a topic. Teachers probably still try to make this fun by giving students the opportunity to vote on a movie to watch and then write about. You likely still have 98% of the class choosing Blade Runner and the cool 2% choosing A Clockwork Orange like in the case of the class of 2001. Just a joke, we would have never been allowed to watch A Clockwork Orange in school but, Blade Runner was the class choice. I hate it to this day. There will not be a blog on this movie – thank you Mr. whatever your name was. Sorry, back on the mule, I’m still frustrated about having to write an analysis paper on Blade Runner. I remember the other option being my choice.

If I were an English professor, I’d let my class analyze A Fistful of Dollars. It’s funny, here I am 20 years after graduating doing this very thing for fun. I have some deeper questions about this western. Feel free, reader(s), to chime in because I’d love to read your thoughts. Why did the undertaker look away in the closing scene? Digging graves by hand at 70 years old in the desert couldn’t be fun but why? Was the knight armor foreshadowing? Not in that Ramone would shoot for the heart but that Eastwood was a “knight in shining armor” to the imprisoned family. The main question for me though – why did he ride a mule and not a horse? I liked how Eastwood’s character had no back story. He just showed up on a mule, handled business, and bounced but, why a mule?

A Fistful of Dollars Delivers Timeless Entertainment

In closing, I am a fan of A Fistful of Dollars and of Eastwood. As usual, I question the unlimited ammo in addition to another unrealistic situation. If I shot a fellow in the heart and it didn’t kill him, his dome would be a canoe quickly. I guess, picking up my #2 pencil for English paper again, that Ramone in his arrogance had to fulfill the proverb of a rifle beating a 45 and stay consistent with his heart shot reputation. In the end, the pace changes from consistent and attention holding to quick, and action packed. Finally slowing down as Eastwood rides out of town on his slow trotting mule in the same way he came in. This worked well. A Fistful of Dollars is a great movie, a guaranteed rewatch for me, and a must see for fans of this genre or just great movies.

I hope you’ve enjoyed reading this artist’s thoughts on A Fistful of Dollars. I invite you to follow my art journey on social media, visit my website, and consider supporting and buying my work here. If you liked this blog or the movie, please share. Also, feel free to comment, especially if you are A Fistful of Dollars fan. Weigh in on the questions I presented. Peace. 

[gifsbysimplysonia]

I also wanna stress that once that crew realized that the fandom was NOT going to fall for their "he's suicidal, his assets are frozen, WE need to save him because everyone in his life is refusing" storyline?

They backtracked FAST and HARD. To the point they even claimed THEY were the only ones who had ever donated to the fake campaigns, they named and vilified who THEY CLAIM was the perpetrator of that specific set of lies, and attempted to defend themselves by saying "We were only asking for people to donate or DM us for PayPal info to donate FOR ONE WEEK cuz what were we supposed to do, we wanted to help him." They flat out admitted to all critical thinking skills flying away because they were panicked about Chris being so depressed he was going to do something to himself. So of course them running to public forums to tell everyone about this AND ATTEMPT TO PUT THE RESPONSIBILITY - financially - on fans and make us feel guilty if we didn't help!!! Horrific behavior. Even if you don't wanna believe they were part of the scam, they emotionally terrorized the fandom that week and were never held accountable for at least that. But also? It was NOT just ONE WEEK.

That's why my pinned post is so important: it shows that they were asking for money since MAY 2023 and not just "that week" where they came out with the "he needs $23K to buy himself out of a contract" storyline. They started blogging, reblogging and tagging celebrity accounts FOR FAKE GOFUND MEs that were later traced back to the alleged perpetrator of the "Chris Evans needs $23K" scam, and it was said that they had to set up the campaigns that way (and have people DM them for info) so the fundraisers wouldn't get taken down.

And once the backlash started? They also ALL CLAIMED they were fooled and lied to. Which is REALLY something considering how many times the ringleader has cited "sources." So when she heard this - what she LATER ADMITTED WAS - ABSOLUTELY RIDICULOUS sounding situation? She didn't IMMEDIATELY go to "her sources" all in Massachusetts or on the outskirts of his circle to ask, "Yo, can you verify?" Her and her minions just blindly believed and started soliciting the ENTIRE FANDOM for money?!? Doesn't pass the smell test.

Later she tried to say that the alleged perpetrator would call her - and she posted screenshots showing they would be on the phone anywhere from 5 to 7 hours at a time - so there was no record of what she was being told (even though they then posted screenshots of the alleged perpetrator saying it to everyone at once in their private Discord??) and that the alleged perpetrator FORBADE the ringleader (an alleged grown a$$ woman) from saying anything revealed on the phone calls to the rest of the group. How did THAT RED FLAG not immediately make the ringleader hop into action?

Because she was being told what she wanted to hear. They all were. They put themselves in an echo chamber so they could all feed each others' delusions. The Tr*mp follower comparisons are unfortunately not inaccurate.

The cherry on the 💩 sundae, though, was when someone found the ringleader's personal Instagram and evidence that she still follows and communicates with the alleged perpetrator/scammer/person who defrauded her and her friends out of money (I don't believe this, they are all still friends imo, and they are still grifting).

It's honestly been wild and deserves it's own basic cable documentary. I'm so baffled as to how they still have defenders and followers. And now they are dragging Susan Downey into the circus, liiiiiiiiiike

Jfc so the “family in need” that the gofundme references was Chris evans??? Lmao that’s literally insane. Holy shit. So some people donated under the guise of trying to help a single mom and her family and others donated under the guise of getting CE out of a “PR contract”? Thanks for your time responding to this btw. I’ve always been confused about this whole thing.

Correct. It was a shady deal all the way around and tbh blew over way too quickly 🧜🏻‍♀️

[ohayohimawari]

30 Minutes to Frogpocalypse Gift

Here is my frogtastic disaster gift (rated G; gen) to @keepyourpantsongohan​ for the Frogpocalypse 30-Minute-to-Gift exchange in @sloaners​ server!

Theme: FROG

2 Fandoms: Naruto, Fairy Tail

Keyword: Sunshine 

Inspo images:

That From Which True Strength Springs

The boisterous Fairy Tail hall was usually a source of great happiness for Makarov, however, so much mirth was too distracting when he had heavy thinking to do, so he slipped out to walk the streets of Magnolia.

In recent years, his wizarding guild took in orphaned youths left to wander the world without guidance. He duly reported each tragic event in those children’s lives to the Magic Council, and the growing number of reports he issued hinted at the coming of a much larger threat in the near future.

(Continue reading below the cut!)

Though he often played the fool, Makarov certainly wasn’t one. His old bones ached from the urgent need to prepare those youngest members to become the strongest mages he could possibly produce. He needed assurance that Fairy Tail could overcome and outlast any one or thing that attempted to destroy it, for the guild's sake (as well as his own). 

Each child had some talent for magic and the potential to expertly wield it. Makarov witnessed that same greatness in his son, Ivan. However, so many years of carefully cultivated training sessions intended to groom him as the next Fairy Tail Master resulted in Ivan’s expulsion from the guild instead. That painful failure with his own flesh and blood lurked in Makarov’s mind, always there and causing him to doubt his ability to teach other people’s children to protect the guild in addition to themselves.

Just then, the recognizable laughter of those other people’s children tickled his ears, and Makarov turned towards the sound instinctively. Mirajane led the pack with Natsu and Gray hard at her heels, each pushing the other instead of trying to outrun them. The recently-hatched Happy kept up with them as best as his wobbly wings would allow. A giggling Lisanna followed in his wake with her brother, Elfman, in tow and Erza trailed the pack from a short, tentative distance.

Makarov smiled at their sunshine-kissed skin and hair. Looking at them now, no one could guess at their troubles of the past and future, rather, they radiated health and happiness in that present moment.

They crowded around their destination, which was a fruit stand that appeared on the street on sunny days. Makarov wondered how the owner could stay in business with such fair-weather hours, and when she allowed each child one free fruit apiece. He waited until the children departed and wordlessly handed thankful coins to the smiling owner of the stand. Then, Makarov followed his youngest guildmates from a distance that wouldn't betray his presence.

They stopped and flopped in the tall grass beside the river that ran through Magnolia. Even relaxed, they were an animated bunch, munching on their fruit and watching specks of bright sunlight that shimmered on the water’s surface. Only Elfman and Happy moved about, one to gather flowers for his sisters, and the other to hone his hunting skills. 

Elfman handed a fistful of wild blooms to Lisanna and Mira each, then stooped to gather a few more as Happy suddenly dived down near the edge of the riverbank. They both rose, the former with flowers which he offered to Erza, and the latter proudly produced the frog he caught.

Makarov laughed at the group, and it would’ve betrayed him if it weren’t for the children’s loud, delighted exclamations. He quieted his chuckles and neared them as they passed around Happy’s successful catch. Elfman took his turn last so he could hold it longest by the time Makarov was close enough to hear them, though he remained careful to stay hidden.

Gray and Natsu competed to see who could lick their eyeball while Elfman carefully cradled the squirming, hopping creature in his hands where the others could observe it.

“Did you hear that? He said ‘requip,’” Lisanna laughed.

“No,” Mira rolled her eyes, “frogs say ‘ribbit.’”

“I heard ‘requip’ too,” Elfman braved his bossy big sister’s temper to the delight of his younger one.

Lisanna plucked a flower from its stem and placed it on the frog’s head. "See? There's his armor."

"He's so cute," Erza quietly cooed.

Mira’s tough shell crumbled and she joined Lisanna and Erza in placing different flowers atop the frog’s head, laughing while they changed the frog’s armor every time he croaked, ‘requip’.

Makarov smiled his blessing upon them before he turned to walk back to the Fairy Tail Guild Hall. They didn’t need his guidance right now, and they certainly didn’t need an old man’s impatience for youth to hurry up and grow up into strong mages to fight future wizarding wars.

He could and would let his children be children, allowing them to make memories, to forge familial bonds that would be worthy of their fiercest protection against any threat from the past, or future.

He strolled at a leisurely pace, savoring a lighter mind and happier heart, knowing that those children were his children now. And Makarov realized that only he could offer his children that which they needed most: the opportunity to be just that.

[darlington-v]

I know different interpretations of a work are generally enriching and cool... but c!dream villan interpretations is like how to tell me you only watch Tommy without saying you only watch tommy.... which would be fine but its not a great place to be making statements about the whole nature of the dsmp lol

Wild speculation, but sometimes I wonder if like, because the dsmp didn't really start as a narrative, and a lot of fans don't nessecarily enter it expecting a narrative, but then there is one and the fandom is really discourse heavy and everyone is sort of excpeted to have an opinion while maybe not expecting to form one from the begining or not having a ton of experience with narrative in a way that would "expect" them to have an opinion or not take things at face value??, I don't know if I explained that well at all... and I don't really even think thats right nessecarily... but like wow sometimes some of the takes about power and government and villany...

Honestly, it makes sense!!!

I think something interesting is like.... looking at how animatics have shaped the like tone and culture of the fandom essentially. Like, an interesting fact that I didn't really fully grasp until SUPER recently is like...

c!Wilbur out the gate admits he is manipulating c!Tommy. Like his first youtube video on the Dream SMP he admits his goal is to manipulate c!Tommy and people like c!Tommy into helping him achieve a potion ("drug") empire to monopolize on potions because there were a lot of people on the server who like to min-max, which is to put all of your effort into this one specific skill essentially. so like... i know minecraft doesnt have a skill tree but if it did, it would be putting all your points into that one specific branch of a skill tree. So he wanted to exploit the labor of all the TommyInnits to.... maintain a Potion Empire.

THIS IS A LONG POST BC I GOT CARRIED AWAY SO BUCKLE UP

And I don't think a lot of the fandom who joined later on knows this. I certainly didn't until like a week or so ago? Like... I knew c!Wilbur had been manipulative from the start because I'm a mod of (shameless self promo incoming) @dsmpanalysis and we have a lot of different POVs in that mod team and discord and we talk about it really frequently. I joined the fandom as someone who was really big on L'manburg ESPECIALLY crimeboys, and have turned into.... *gestures vaguely to my blog*

And ngl I owe a lot of it to @1-michibiki-1 in terms of c!Dream "Apologism" but all of the mods there have expanded my thoughts and views on the storylines of this narrative.

My application consisted of like largely essays about like... how I think Dream was the villain but he was meant to be the villain because you don't get any insight into his character WHICH.... IS A FAIR ASSUMPTION AT FIRST GLANCE. People are easily villainized when you cannot get a glimpse into their thought process. It's easy to dwindle someone down into this flat character and starting out I knew Dream didn't stream the SMP on purpose.

And I personally came to the conclusion of "Oh! So Dream is supposed to be the villain." However as the story continued and I learned more about what Dream went through I began to realize that... it's more than likely a form of a red herring. My opinions on this were immediately solidified when I watched Ranboo's 2 MIL stream because both Ranboo AND Dream agree on enjoying red herrings.

There have been MANY times were Dream has said that c!Dream is a complex character and he's not a wholly evil guy and there have been times where the narrative has honestly just proved that.

Anyways, what's important though was that... I learned most of this from other people who were more focused on c!Dream rather than myself. Eventually I shifted from c!Tommy to c!Ranboo and c!Techno after c!Tommy betrayed c!Techno and I began to realize.... everything I learned before hopping in wasn't exactly what it seemed.

Part of this is because I'm older, I heavily identify with c!Techno's sense of loyalty and philosophies on government, but I especially identify with the anguish c!Techno voiced in... a lot of lore but especially the lore around Doomsday.

I'm not 16 anymore. I don't always feel wronged by adults, or older people in my case, whenever they absolutely have done something wrong by me, but I do feel wronged by my close friends. I also felt like c!Tommy's sense of loyalty didn't line up with mine after what felt like him constantly flip-flopping and refusing to understand c!Techno's morals on government didn't line up with his.

In short, it was easier to identify with Tommy in these animatics versus in the actual stream content because c!Tommy is played by a 16 year old. I'm not a teenager and my line of thinking doesn't entirely line up with people that age anymore. It's harder to place myself in the same shoes of someone's OC who is played closer to their actual age, because I'm not that age.

Regardless, I was still on the c!Dream is a villain train. I wasn't ever like... c!Dream is repulsive I hate him, but I was like omg hot villain lad go brrr.

Even when the first like... mellohi, panic room, Ranboo lore stream popped up I thought "Oh! c!Ranboo corruption arc?"

And I was excited because I really wanted this shy, nervous character to turn into villain buddies with his good pal c!Dream. I'm a total sucker for villains and corruption arcs and all that good shit.

SO I STARTED GETTING REALLY INTERESTED IN ENDERSMILE. I'VE BEEN ON ENDERSMILE SQUAD OUT THE GATE. NOT THE SAME WAY I AM NOW, BUT I'VE ALWAYS WANTED THEM TO TEAM UP.

So... upon not really keeping up with c!Dream and being relatively??? indifferent? I don't think I started arguments on c!Dream back then, but I might have. But I remember like... starting to participate more whenever c!Dream came up and looking more into Dream's character BUT ESPECIALLY TALKING WITH OUR SERVER'S C!DREAM SPECIALIST MICHI ABOUT DREAM A LOT MORE.

And because Michi has been a watcher since day one and was a DTeam fan rather than a SBI fan, she was able to provide me with more information on how the server worked pre-Tommy but especially pre-Wilbur.

Now, you could definitely argue well Michi probably has clear bias but it made sense to me when I looked back on how the storyline had been constructed and was going along, and everyone in the server talks a lot about our own biases and how we want people to maybe not lean so hard on them. Michi would also provide like anecdotes on what had happened and I'm sure links were probably provided at one point but the point was I felt like Michi had no reason to lie or manipulate how the story was told and if she did, eventually someone would have pointed it out because... Group of like... right now it's around 20 or more analysts but I don't remember how many at the time there were. POINT BEING, WE'VE ALL GOT POINTS TO PROVE AND IN MY EXPERIENCE NOT MANY OF US HAVE BEEN SHY TO PROVE THEM.

So if anyone ever had any differing opinions they would be talked about and we literally had and still have discussions.

REGARDLESS.... I DIDN'T FACT CHECK IN DEPTH BECAUSE I THOUGHT PEER REVIEW WAS ENOUGH WHEN YOU HAVE LIKE HOURS UPON HOURS OF STREAMS TO WATCH.

Anyways. Eventually I started paying closer attention and looking more into c!Dream lore but only recently have I started to triple check before speaking about c!Wilbur lore because I know everyone has biases and while I did trust everyone's thoughts and analysis in the discord, whenever I make essays I typically like it to be largely air tight and if theres a mistake, I want it to be because I forgot not because I just trusted what was said. Plus, I wanted to get down to the specifics of how Wilbur had always started with manipulation on the mind.

SO I WATCHED HIS FIRST VIDEO ON THE DREAM SMP.

AND WHAT I WAS NOT BY ANY MEANS EXPECTING WAS WILBUR TO SAY WORD FOR WORD, VERBATIM,

"SO WHY DON'T I START AN INDUSTRY WHERE I USE THE TOMMYINNITS OF THE WORLD TO WORK FOR ME, TO CREATE THINGS THAT THE MIN-MAXERS OF THE WORLD WILL WANT."

Like... this is in no way an attempt to like hardcore villainize c!Wilbur like everyone does Dream, it's just more so to like REALLY outline how far off a lot of fandom interpretation of c!Wilbur is....

Because of SBI focused animatics.

Now, when I joined I watched A LOT of animatics that really highlighted like... Wilbur being this self-loathing JD-esque, "I destroyed it because I had to because the world was against me because no one loved us, Tommy" type of character. At least... that's what it came across as.

And it definitely highlighted the fact that Tommy was a victim, which he is. He is undoubtedly a victim and no not even any dream apologist can change my mind otherwise. Tommy, despite being an instigator sometimes, didn't deserve the abuse he received.

But these animatics never shown the fact that c!Wilbur started L'manburg as a shady ploy to exploit people like c!Tommy and vilify c!Dream so he could have power.

And that was easy because Dream and Tommy had wars before. They had spars and pranks and here's the plan to take back my disks and here's the plan to out smart the thieving little child etc etc.

And all of the animatics I watched never mentioned this. Neither did the recaps though. The recaps gave the events flat out, there didn't sound like there was bias, and honestly I don't really know if there was rather than like... a lack of nuance. And it's hard to provide a recap with that much nuance in a short period of time for a youtube video, to be perfectly fair.

However, this creates a perfect formula for entirely rewriting the history of a server. c!Wilbur quite literally fucking succeeded TO A META LEVEL. He slandered and ran smear campaigns against Dream and like he even does that with Sapnap in the beginning. But what's crazy is that it transferred over into the meta! Most of this fandom understands Wilbur as a victim of mental illness, and yeah maybe? He definitely wasn't mentally well by the end of pogtopia, but he never started out with honorable intentions. L'manburg was never a victim, only its citizens. The TommyInnits of the world.

I just think it's like... such an interesting case study. Because this is like... an opinion like shared by at least half of the fandom, but the vilifying of c!Dream is shared by MOST of the fandom I would argue. Which is like even more crazy for me because that was c!Wilbur's goal!!!

LIKE I GO INSANE WHEN I THINK OF THIS BECAUSE HIS REACH IS JUST TOO POWERFUL. HE'S NOT EVEN ENTIRELY REAL, JUST A MANIPULATIVE PERSONA OF SOME BRITISH GUY.

And I mean... maybe people who have watched Wilbur's video on the SMP still maintain this idea that Wilbur wasn't always the bad guy, but honestly... I wouldn't be surprised if their introduction was still an animatic. Like bias is hard to check and I'm not going to lie I could have sworn I watched both Wilbur's AND Tommy's video on the SMP in the beginning and yet I STILL was a ride or die for tragic yet on some level still honorable Wilbur and a resilient Tommy.

Like... upon watching Wilbur's first video... possibly again I was surprised because I thought I did watch it like right before I even started watching the streams and yet I was still so invested in c!Wilbur as this tortured anti-hero.

It took 6 months of... not being in an echo chamber, full of multiple different people of different ages, different stream POVS, and people who joined the fandom at different points in time.

IDK IF THIS WAS EVEN ENTIRELY RELEVANT IT JUST FELT TANGENTIALLY RELEVANT AND THIS WAS SOMETHING I'VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT FOR A HOT MINUTE AFTER LIKE WATCHING WILBUR'S FIRST VIDEO AGAIN.

TLDR;

SBI CENTRIC ANIMATICS HAD A LASTING AFFECT ON THIS FANDOM AS IT'S HARD TO GO BACK AND ACTUALLY CHECK THE NARRATIVE FOR SOLID FACTS FOR YOUR OWN INTERPRETATION BASED ON THE FACT THAT THIS NARRATIVE SPANS OVER HUNDREDS OF HOURS WORTH OF TWITCH STREAMS.

[kindofwriter]

Hello Skyjacks fandom, may I please introduce you to my favourite thing to do: turn RPG scenes I love into TV scripts. I’ve never done a scene that doesn’t have fluid dialogue before, so this is more of an edit, but aah! Flashbacks, my beloved! From ep 15.

Transcript under the cut:

INT. TAVERN. DAY.

TRAVIS' footsteps echo as he picks his way around upturned tables and towards the bar. JONNIT and GABLE remain by the door.

TRAVIS pauses and lifts up an overturned tankard. He tilts it, and a few dregs drip to the floor.

TRAVIS: Well, we might be able to at least scavenge something.

TRAVIS: Well, we might be able to at least scavenge something.

GABLE: I think our best bet is probably to find the warehouse. Get as many supplies as we can to get us to the next port, then try and trade there.

TRAVIS has reached the bar at this point. He hops over it, then begins inspecting bottles.

TRAVIS: Guess I'll start here.

GABLE makes a move towards the bar. JONNIT stumbles after them.

GABLE: Trav- Hey! This isn't the warehouse!

TRAVIS picks up a tall glass bottle, flips it in the air and catches it again, then begins to pour it into a whiskey-sized glass he found behind the bar. He is beginning to make a Maelstrom.

TRAVIS: Can I get you anything?

GABLE stops just before the bar, JONNIT beside them. They pause for a second, look to JONNIT, then sit.

GABLE: You know what? What the hell. Uh, what do they have back there?

JONNIT tentatively sits beside GABLE.

TRAVIS: Well, uh, do you have a signature drink?

GABLE: No.

A smirk, softer than usual, spreads across TRAVIS' face.

TRAVIS: Would you like one?

GABLE: Uuh...

His own drink poured, TRAVIS begins to mix something for GABLE.

TRAVIS: Jonnit, would you like something?

JONNIT: Uuh, I'll take a pickle?

With his back to his companions, TRAVIS gives another small smile. He turns.

TRAVIS (with a jovial eye-roll): Well, there's the jar.

TRAVIS slides a large jar of pickles down the bar at JONNIT. JONNIT opens it, grabs a pickle, then fidgets in his seat for a moment.

JONNIT: Hey Gable? This is kinda maybe something for a little later, but-

TRAVIS pours something into GABLE's glass that makes the clear liquid begin to smoke. He grabs a shot glass and begins pouring something into it.

JONNIT; I was wondering, when we get back in the air, this thing-

JONNIT gestures to his forehead.

JONNIT: Has been on my mind a lot, and, uh, I just wanted to know: would you maybe be interested in  helping me figure out what it is, how to use it? I feel like it's, it's special. And I wanna be able to call on it when I want, but I don't know how. And it's sometimes a little scary.

TRAVIS sets the shot glass in front of GABLE - it's filled with blood red liquid - then grabs another bottle.

GABLE: Jonnit, from what I've seen you're capable of some incredible things. Things that I know are frightening to you, and I know you have a desire to control. But those things are quite unique to you. As far as I know, perhaps it's divine magic, but it's nothing I've ever encountered. When it comes to magic  the most powerful thing I've found you can do is to allow yourself to do it.

JONNIT: To just... let it happen?

TRAVIS places the smoking glass before GABLE and picks up his own drink. JONNIT and GABLE pause their conversation to look at him.

TRAVIS: To letting ourselves be ourselves from time to time. Even if it is a little painful.

GABLE: Take flight.

JONNIT: Take flight.

TRAVIS: Take flight.

JONNIT crunches down on his pickle. GABLE takes a sip. TRAVIS watches them over the rim of his own glass.

GABLE: This is delicious! It's not often we get to.. have fun?

As TRAVIS downs his drink, GABLE turns back to JONNIT.

GABLE: Just, don't be afraid of it, is what I mean.

JONNIT: I feel like that just ends up with me waiting around for it to happen, and it happens when it wants to, and I feel like I want it to happen when I want it to.

GABLE: You feel that it controls you?

TRAVIS sets his now empty glass down on the bar. He pokes about a little, finds some peanuts and chucks a couple into his mouth.

JONNIT: Yeah. I wanna be in control.

GABLE: That's wise. I'm not sure how much I can help-

JONNIT's shoulders droop, and he tries really hard not to let the disappointment show on his face. To hide it, he takes a bite of the pickle.

GABLE: But I can show you how I do my thing.

JONNIT: Yeah, uh, that'd be great. Thanks, Gable.

TRAVIS wanders out from behind the bar, winding around tables, clearly looking to see if anyone has dropped anything. He reaches a corner, tucked away behind a support beam, where there is a small, square table for playing Illimat. 

TRAVIS runs his fingers over the grain and a slightly glazed look overtakes his face. He begins to take a seat and-

CUT TO:

INT. BAR. DUSK.

The exact same place, only now it's bustling. A shanty plays in the background. The scene is packed with characters. Out the window we can see, across a fog-less mountain top, the sun is preparing to set. 

TRAVIS is sitting in the exact same seat we just saw him drop into, but he looks different. Same coat, but it's newer, better maintained. There's a softness to his face and a lightness to his eyes that we haven't seen before. He looks younger, though of course he isn't.

Across from TRAVIS is sat a burly man with curls pulled back into a ponytail. The two have almost finished playing a game of Illimat.

TRAVIS makes a move, and the crowd that have gathered around them cheer - it looks like he's going to win. The sly look TRAVIS gives his competitor confirms this.

With a flick of his wrist, the COMPETITOR plays his card, and the crowd goes wild. He crosses his arms and leans back, smirking at TRAVIS.

For a moment TRAVIS looks confused, then he begins to reach across the table.

TRAVIS: You cheated!

COMPETITOR (rumbling: )Didn't take you for a sore loser.

TRAVIS: That was the only card you could have possibly played to win. The odds are impossible.

COMPETITOR: Guess fate was just on my side.

That gets TRAVIS' hackles up.

TRAVIS: No, that card was already in the harvest pile, I saw it!

As TRAVIS reaches for the deck a knife is thrown down, pinning the cards to the table.

COMPETITOR: Oi!

The COMPETITOR rises, looming over TRAVIS, who also quickly jumps to his feet.

COMPETITOR: That's not the way we play here.

The energy in the crowd has changed now. People are tense, anticipating a fight.

TRAVIS tries to respond to the man, but instead he bares his teeth, a short, sharp growl emitting from his throat. We see panic flare in TRAVIS' eyes as he notices the sun through the window behind the man's head: it's setting.

The COMPETITOR took this to be a sign of aggression and lunges for TRAVIS. TRAVIS winces, but before any damage can be done two other patrons have grabbed hold of the man. They begin to drag him from the table, mumbling that he's drunk and should head home, not worth it over a visitor etc.

The COMPETITOR reaches to grab something from the table - the money, TRAVIS assumes, and also starts reaching for it. However all he does is scoop a small snuff box up and shove it into his pocket.

People begin to move in towards TRAVIS, asking if he's alright, where he's staying, congratulating him on his skill. TRAVIS ignores them, covering his mouth with one hand as we hear the loud and painful snapping and twisting of his jaw.

With his other hand he scoops up what should have been the winnings and slinks out the door.

CUT TO:

EXT. TAVERN. DUSK.

Now lifting his cravat to cover his mouth, TRAVIS exits the tavern and starts to turn, aiming to slink down an alleyway. Before he does, however, his eyes are drawn to a commotion just past the warehouse. The COMPETITOR is still being guided away, into a bunk house down the street.

CUT TO:

EXT. TAVERN. DAY.

TRAVIS is stood outside the door in the exact same position, looking to the bunk house. Now, however, the tavern is dark and cold.He starts to walk towards the bunk house.

GABLE and JONNIT emerge, clearly confused.

GABLE (hissed): Travis?

JONNIT (whispered): Travis?

We pan out in order to see TRAVIS walking towards the bunk house and GABLE and JONNIT at the door simultaneously.

GABLE (slightly louder): Travis?

JONNIT (normal volume): Travis?

GABLE (yelling slightly); Travis!

JONNIT + GABLE: Travis!

TRAVIS continues to ignore them, having almost reached the door to the bunk house now.

GABLE shrugs to JONNIT.

GABLE: Well, I guess we don't need to go to the same place. Do you wanna go to the warehouse?

JONNIT nods and the pair set off.

CUT TO:

INT. BUNK HOUSE. DAY.

TRAVIS is just pushing open the door to the reception area. There are chairs and tables littered about - untidy, but not in disarray as the tavern had been. It's deadly silent.

Faint light filters in through the windows, but with the thick fog it does little to illuminate the room. TRAVIS reaches up and lights an oil lamp that hangs beside his head. It looks as if he lights it with his finger, but as he reaches to take the oil lamp down we see him palm a lighter.

Taking the lamp with him, TRAVIS makes his way down a corridor at the back of the room, lined on either side with doors. He pushes the first one he comes to, and it opens onto a set of bunks. The beds are unmade and there are a few belongings scattered about, but nothing that suggests a struggle.

We see TRAVIS continue down the corridor, pushing a few more doors, until suddenly he stops.

On the floor of this room, slightly tucked beneath a bunk, is a brass Illimat box, the one the COMPETITOR had laid on the table. The lid has been lost or removed.

TRAVIS crouches and reaches inside, lifting out a small snuff box. He closes his eyes, letting out a soft, slow breath. As he stands he pockets the snuff box, turning on his heel, only to stop in his tracks again. 

We pan round until we can see the back of the door. Etched into it, in thin, jagged letters, is the words 'IT IS TIME!'

TRAVIS pushes the door open and hurries out of the room, back towards the entrance.

[nxrthmizu]

disappearing trick — SaguKai

━━━━━━━

fandom | magic kaito 

pairing | kuroba kaito x hakuba saguru 

genre | angst to fluff :3 

w.c | 2.1k 

━━━━━━━

It was a heist went wrong. 

So, so wrong. 

There were explosions and gunshots, all of which Hakuba was about 99.99% sure wasn’t in KID’s itinerary of the night. He remembered catching a glimpse of a torn white cape, the grimace of pain clear as day despite the lack of helicopters overhead, and men dressed in black. 

“KID—!” Hakuba had yelled, which, looking back, was not the smartest thing he could’ve done. The barrels of two guns instantaneously locked on him, much to the phantom thief’s horror. 

It seemed like it was the end for Hakuba Saguru. 

But of course, KID always loved to meddle in things that didn’t involve him. And so he did what he always did best. 

KID was a performer, after all. He specialised in attracting his audience’s attention to him. Flashing a cocky smirk towards Hakuba’s direction, even though there was a stream of blood trickling down his cheek, the phantom thief disappeared into the night with a loud bang, taking the two men with him. 

Kuroba Kaito was ‘kidnapped’ the same night. 

According to Aoko, who had been in the Nakamouri house when the teen was attacked, there had been a loud crash, gunshots, and yelling. The girl had hid under the kitchen counter in fright, hoping and praying with all her heart that Kaito hadn’t been home at the time of the break-in. 

As it turned out, he was. 

The crime scene investigators turned Kuroba’s house upside down, finding multiple signs that the teen boy had been shot, if the splatters of blood (That all had Kaito’s DNA) was any indication. It was also concluded by the investigators that Kaito put up a hell of a fight, as there were signs of his magic tricks all through the house. 

Hakuba was still being treated for shock at the heist location when Detective Nakamouri received a call from his devastated, hysterical daughter, who sobbed so loudly through the phone that the blonde detective overheard.

It was only one disaster after another. 

For once, Hakuba chose to stay out of the crime scene, instead stroking Aoko’s back as comfortingly as he could, trying not to think about Kaito’s body, abandoned in some dark alley dumpster. His coat was soaked through with splotches of her tears, but he didn’t care much, because he himself felt like crying, too. 

━━━━━━━

School the next day was eerily quiet. Practically everyone had heard of Kaito’s kidnapping, and if they didn’t, Aoko’s swollen eyes were a dead giveaway that something had happened to the playful teen. The teacher kept glancing up, as if she was waiting for an interruption, only to flick her eyes onto the empty seat at the corner of the classroom. The topic lingered like a dark cloud above the classroom, and no one dared to even mention the name ‘Kaito’ when Aoko was within hearing distance. 

“He’s alive.” 

Hakuba glanced up after a few moments of silence, realising that Akako was talking to him. “What?” 

“Kuroba.” Akako continued impatiently. “He’s alive.” 

The blonde detective couldn’t help but snort. “And how did you come to that conclusion? Did your crystal ball tell you that?” 

Judging by the glare the female shot in his direction, she didn’t appreciate his snark, but Hakuba just couldn’t be bothered at the moment. “He won’t go down this easily.” Akako stated, as if she’d seen Kaito alive with her own two eyes. Granted, the image hadn’t exactly been clear when she used her seer powers on him, but she could go as far as saying that the magician was still breathing. 

“Look. He was shot.” Hakuba interrupted emotionlessly. “Even if the gunshot wasn’t fatal, he’s lost a lot of blood.”

“He won’t go out that easily. You’ll see.” 

━━━━━━━

Kuroba Kaito was pronounced dead after three months. KID went back into retirement— At least, that’s what the KID division announced after no sight of any heist in the horizon. 

After a long consideration, Hakuba decided to leave Japan behind— Along with the memories of KID and Kaito— And return to Britain. Some would call him cowardly, and he would admit, yes, it was cowardly of him to run away like that, but as far as he was concerned, he didn’t care what others thought of him. 

Sure, Aoko was a little upset, but Akako had reassured her that she wasn’t going anywhere. He did feel a little bad for leaving Nakamouri behind— All her friends were disappearing, one by one, after all— 

Disappearing. 

That was KID’s— Kaito’s last trick, Hakuba thought tearily, hastily ushering the tears away as he packed the last of his clothes into the luggage bag. A disappearing trick gone wrong— And the phantom thief KID, Kuroba Kaito— Two sides of the same coin— Dropped off the surface of the planet, never to be heard from again. 

But there was no point in crying over spilled milk anymore. 

“Saguru-kun, there’s a man looking for you outside.” His housekeeper knocked on the door, informing him monotonously. “He said he has a few things to tell you before you leave Japan.” 

A quick peer out of the window gave him a glimpse of dark brown hair— A familiar stature and height, a relaxed pose— 

Hakuba had never dashed out of his room that fast in his entire life. All composure and calamity was forgotten as he practically barrelled down the stairs, narrowly missing a few boxes of belongings he had wrapped up the days prior. The door burst open with a tremendous bang! as Hakuba hurried down the front steps of his house, hoping, praying, pleading that the face that he would meet belonged to— 

“Kudou-kun?” The tone of disappointment couldn’t be avoided as Hakuba remembered just how alike the detective and the magician looked. If he was asked, the two were definitely genetically related at some degree or another. “How may I help you today?” His tone was terribly strained; he had had expectations, and he had been let down. 

Kudou Shinichi, as the great detective that rivalled many others, took quick note of Hakuba’s inner turmoil. “Hakuba-kun. I have news that you might want to... Think about before you leave Japan.” 

“Go on.” Hakuba said bitterly. Nothing could stop him from leaving Japan, he thought. Not when every corner reminded him of the man that kept him on his feet. 

“Kuroba Kaito is very much alive.” Kudou said casually, with no prior preparation or whatsoever. Hakuba looked as if he was just hit by a freight train, stunned and dazed by the words that destroyed everything he knew about life. “He’s been staying undercover to help the FBI take down the Black Organisation, who, as if seems, was after Pandora as well. Because he’s been missing for three months, its’ going to be very hard for him to explain his absence— So he has requested for me to pass you this letter in his stead.” 

The thoughts running through Saguru’s head as the slim letter was received into his head were wild. Kaito was alive? He was involved with the FBI? What was the Black Organisation— And forget the Black Organisation, what the hell was Pandora? And why couldn’t Kaito have passed him the letter himself? 

“Well, I’m going to get going.” Kudou smiled gently. “See you around, Hakuba-kun.” 

━━━━━━━

It seems like your detective skills have mellowed since my absence, Hakubastard. Your observational ability is... Mediocre, to say the least. Anyway, I suppose I should provide you with an explanation (Although I would love to go world-hopping and leave you in pursuit of the truth for the rest of your life), but I guess I owe you this much after just upping and leaving like that. Those gun wounds hurt like hell, but they weren’t going to nuff this magician up that easily. I still had a couple tricks up my sleeve— It was nice seeing you all worried about me, though! So you do care~ 

Anyway, its still not too safe for me to appear publicly in Japan. I’ve sent a letter to Aoko, so don’t worry about filling her in. I left the meeting location in your bedroom. Exactly a month from now. Better set a reminder on that pocket watch of yours, tantei. 

With love malice, 

Kuroba Kaito

“My bedroom...?” Hakuba murmured to himself, realisation striking like a flash of lightning. A quick inspection of his room turned out with a slip of yellow paper: Rivals shall meet once more, in the romantic city people adore; When the clock strikes a quarter and by the Seine shop corner. 

Saguru rushed over to his bedroom window, eyes flicking up and down the nearby streets to find Kudou Shinichi’s silhouette, but he came up empty handed— For that wasn’t Kudou Shinichi at all... Because who else would break into his bedroom just to leave a riddle? 

It didn’t take long for Hakuba to figure out the time, date, and location— Kudou— No, Kaito had said so himself. Exactly a month from then— In the ‘romantic city people adore’— Which would be Paris— ‘clock strikes a quarter’— At a quarter of a day, which would be 6am— And by the ‘Seine shop corner’— So at a coffee shop next to River Seine. 

“Baa-san!” Saguru called out into the manor, a smile on his face. “Cancel my flight ticket and book one to Paris instead.” 

━━━━━━━

Paris at 6am was quite the pretty sight. The sun was barely rising over the horizon, little splays of light shimmying over the river surface, bathing Paris in a fine, gold threads of sunshine. Not that many cafes were open at the crack of dawn, which made it even easier for Saguru to track down his cafe. 

The little coffee shop by the Seine provided an amazing view as Saguru enjoyed his morning coffee. He had taken a seat outside the cafe, the streets silent in a peaceful, docile manner, early birds already leaving their nests for the worms that were promised. 

The latte in his hands felt warm, inducing heat into his frozen fingers. Hakuba had never felt that on edge in his entire life— Would Kaito show up? 

“Lovely morning, no?” An old man commented, plopping into the seat opposite Saguru. “I love watching the sunrise from here.” 

Hakuba raised an eyebrow, looking for details of a disguise. The fat seemed genuine— The voice was deep and velvety, a little rough and raspy around the edges— The wrinkles around the eyes looked authentic— But he had seen the quality of KID’s work, and he wasn’t taking his chances.

“Indeed,” Saguru agreed with a pleasant hum, French rolling off his tongue smoothly. “Say, mister, what do you think about magic tricks?” 

“Ah, I think they’re quite quaint.” The old man replied in his deep voice, eyes forming crescent lines as he smiled. “What do you think of them, young man?” 

Saguru placed his latte back onto the cup. “I think magic tricks are nice,” He started softly, making firm eye contact with the old man, French rolling off his tongue smoothly. “But I hate disappearing tricks the most.” 

“Oh?” The old man was confused, clearly missing the memo. “Why so—?” 

“Good morning, sir, can I take your order?” A voice pricked into Hakuba’s memory, triggering some sort of mechanism. It was the same tone, frequency, wavelength— The only thing different was the dialect and accent. 

Saguru looked up right into Kaito’s violet eyes, the latter dressed in a waiter’s uniform. A soft smile spread over the magician’s lips as he winked, Hakuba’s jaw dropping as his gaze returned to the man in front of him. 

“Ah, a cappuccino please. And one slice of carrot cake.” 

“Of course.” Kaito nodded pleasantly. “Right away, sir. And you?” 

Hakuba took longer to find his voice than he would’ve liked. “Just a cup of black coffee, please.” 

“Is that all?” Kaito hummed, scribbling down the orders on a piece of paper. 

“Yes, thank you.” 

Hakuba laid back against the chair, a sigh slipping from his lips as he smiled continuing his conversation with the old man, who was still very much confused. 

“Ah, but I find disappearing tricks interesting,” The old man commented, chuckling slightly. “It’s always so magical when the reappearance happens, no?” 

The blonde detective hummed, watching the dark-haired magician busy himself inside the shop. “I suppose I’ll have to agree with that.” 

━━━━━━━

this thing has been sitting in my drafts for four months and its time for it to see the light of day~ 

[sepublic]

New Wartwood, Friend or Frobo!

           This was ANOTHER great episode you guys, two exciting things culminating, and I just… YES!

           I love how a recurring theme in both parts of this episode is two strangers who are added to the Plantar family and status quo in Wartwood (I mean Marcy technically isn’t a stranger but she’s a new addition in terms of permanence), and how both episodes have the townsfolk react suspiciously! The people of Wartwood calling back to Anne’s own destruction was neat, it was nice to see Anne guide someone else through the same things she went through, except Marcy doesn’t quite have to do it alone- And Marcy herself seems pretty mature! All things considered, it wasn’t like she just chose to renovate the town against everyone’s wishes, she was following Mayor Toadstool… Which granted, she should’ve listened to Anne’s warning, but still!

           In general, I like how this episode has both the gags of the townspeople being ready to be an angry mob, but also there’s this sense of… Newcomers like in the beginning of the show, except we have a more developed Plantar family to help them through it! It’s incredibly sweet and I love it… And I’m SO hyped to see Marcy and Frobo interact more, I was looking forward to her reaction to them- And I want to see the two bond over being the newcomers to Wartwood, as recent adoptees to the Plantar family, more or less, etc.! I want to see Marcy freak out over Frobo and help them explore their abilities and function, and add her own knowledge and research…

           …But I AM wary of Marcy inevitably writing back to Andrias about the whole thing. Goodness, what if Frobo is broken down for spare parts, or used to help power and heal his master? Is there some connection, would Frobo recognize the Night- Will the Night possess Frobo like Calamity Ganon with the Guardians? We already have so many Breath of the Wild parallels, in addition to Frobo having destructive laser beams… We could get a tragic Iron Giant plot, with Frobo struggling against the Night, maybe even a permanent destruction! That’d really hurt, while also providing more context and background to what the Night was capable of and probably did, what happened in the past, etc.!

           I like how Marcy had the maturity to learn to apologize herself, instead of hiding behind Anne- And it’s neat seeing how she tries to earn love with big, grandiose gestures… I wonder if she learned this from Sasha? Who seems like the kind of person who’d make friends by doing things for people, given how rich she is and how kids are invited to her parties and so forth; And what with it being part of Sasha’s manipulative nature, innocent Marcy picked up on it? Thought this was normal? OH DANG, that could be a toxic trait she learned from Sasha, and we could see her unlearn Sasha’s toxicity the way Anne did! Again, it’s fascinating to see this same storyline redone but with a different character, it’s almost like watching an AU but within canon!

           Also, I know Toadstool insisted that he wouldn’t learn, but he went out of his way to try to vouch for Marcy at least a little, or at least take his part in the blame; And what with his upcoming redemption episode, it’s neat to see him slowly grow as a character too! Again, I liked the callbacks and seeing Anne become more of a seasoned veteran whose seen things for people, like how she warns Marcy about Toadstool’s schemes… But just in general, like how she lectures Sprig and Polly about how they need to know Bessie’s story to drive her, and so forth! It’s this proud sense of people growing up, and then passing things on to the next generation, a passing of the torch and maturity!

           Speaking of which- We also get to see that with Polly! Polly learning to be an older sibling to Frobo is great, that’s such a neat idea we’ve never seen before, and it adds to her character’s development as she continues to appreciate what others have to go through with her! I like how Frobo is technically younger than Polly in a sense, but also incredibly destructive like her, so you got the baby siblings being destructive… And again, seeing our main cast teach others is incredibly heartwarming, it makes the journey feel all the more well-rounded and nostalgic; We’re seeing how they’ve grown by watching how they become mentors to others, I love this SO much!

           Also, I like how Marcy and Hop Pop are getting along more! We got a glimpse of this beforehand, but now we’re really getting into it, especially with Marcy’s fascination with Wartwood- I think it’s neat the detail of it essentially being a bunch of buoyant sod and topsoil placed over swampwater! It doesn’t add much beyond the peril of this little episode, but it’s very neat worldbuilding and a fun concept, and it reminds me of how some cultures created floating gardens! Which, fits Wartwood being an agricultural society, and it just fleshes out how the Amphibians manage to interact with the wild and cultivate it more, it’s so fun! I wonder if this subterranean swamp has anything to do with the various animals we see… Were the herons attracted to the water and perhaps fish beneath? Those monstrous lampreys that flooded the basement, was that from the swamp below? It’s all incredibly fascinating worldbuilding with so much fun, neat implications, I’m genuinely obsessed with it!

           But, back to Marcy and Hop Pop- It’s neat that Hop Pop is finding someone who can appreciate his old-fashioned interests more… It feels like this family is becoming more fulfilled and less lonely as people find each other and bond, fulfill one another in different ways! This old frog is being understood more and more, and now he has a fellow nerd! I’d love to see Marcy learn how to drive Bessie, and I like that Hop Pop has another human stranger who’s enriching his life, and acting as someone he can count on to help him with his grandkids, an older child he can relate to! It just warms my heart after seeing him get along with Anne during the trip back to Wartwood, the more the merrier! And it’s incredibly sweet that Marcy gets the Fwagon all to herself… Which again, would make it hurt if it got destroyed, but whatever;

           My point is, it’s neat how this journey in this home that brought them to Marcy, it ends up being for her too! It’s like the journey hasn’t quite ended yet, they brought someone back with them… And Marcy gets to sleep where Anne slept, get to live where the others lived! It just feels incredibly heartwarming and it’s such a kind and homely, nostalgic gesture… Again, she really feels more like a part of the family, so I can see things changing where Marcy doesn’t just want to be with Anne, but the rest of the Plantars too! Seeing her develop her relationship with them is great.

           Again, I’d like to see Marcy maybe interact with Sprig and Polly more too- Maybe she and Polly can bond over liking Frobo? Frobo and Polly become friends? And while Frobo as an individual does not concern me in regards to intentions; Their design is a bit sus, given the eye-lasers. Though, Amphibia is such a dangerous place that Frobo having defensive capabilities makes sense… But the idea of there being an entire army of Frobos, many of whom could’ve gone destructive and ravaged Amphibia? Genuinely terrifying with how powerful, with such a diverse range of abilities, that Frobo has- They could lift all of Stumpy’s casually! Again, like the Guardians from Breath of the Wild…

           But yeah, it’s really fun these evened-out, pairings among the family now; You have Sprig and Anne… Hop Pop and Marcy… And Frobo and Polly! But also, Marcy and Anne are close to one another as well, Hop Pop has everything with his pre-existing kids… So it’ll be fascinating to see Frobo adjust, and maybe see Marcy try her hand at being a guide to them as well! Maybe they can both bond over being clumsy and not meaning to cause accidents, but also being adept and having a wide range of skills, and perhaps being seen as ‘robotic’ in the sense that they don’t understand social cues and are figuring them out… It’d be SUCH a neurodivergent mood! Then we have Anne, Marcy, and Frobo being the local freak shows and adopted family, Hop Pop, Polly, and Sprig the ‘normals’ acclimating them to Wartwood, etc.!

           All in all this was another fascinating episode, in terms of character dynamics, themes, the development of our protagonists getting to shine, glimpses into lore, changes to the status quo… It’s all wonderful, I knew I’d love this episode, but WOW it was good! Animation for Frobo was superb and I loved Marcy’s outfit from Toadstool, and Mrs. Croaker’s little joke about being suspicious with Marcy for a while, it reminds me of the fandom in a meta sense! Here’s looking forward to the next one, F-Anne’s!

[giriduck]

Adventuring within the Safety of Home

Huh. Just realized that Breath of the Wild actually serving as therapy for me right now. It is exactly what I need at this time of my life, 2 years into a global pandemic. Much like The Great Animal Crossing of 2020, where 80% of my friends a co-workers all met up and tended each other’s islands, I’m steadily realizing that BotW is helping me cope with the stresses of the pandemic on a perhaps therapeutic level.

Pre-pandemic, I used to travel. My husband and I live pretty frugally; we don’t spend much on material things. If there are any big expenditures, it’s going to be associated with adventures: learning new skills, exploring, seeing new places, etc. Travel is hugely important to both of us. We save money and vacation time so we can see more of the world together; our biggest checklist in this life is a list of countries and places we want to see someday.

Then the pandemic happened. My husband and I have taken the pandemic very seriously, so we hunkered down in March of 2020 as the first cases in the US were showing up, and—aside from one idyllic June when vaccines had fully rolled out before the delta variant rolled in, and a small handful of blissfully isolated Air BnB long weekends within driving distance of our house—we never came out. Everything ground to a halt. I stopped doing all my old hobbies. We stopped seeing friends in person. We stopped thinking about travel because it wasn’t a option. We both started working from home, we watched a LOT of TV, he played a bunch video games that I vicariously experienced, and we’d frequently go for long walks in the neighborhood.

I spent 2020 devoid of motivation to do much of anything except throw myself at work projects, do yard work while listening to podcasts, and exercise a lot as a way to burn off the rampant anxiety of that dumpster fire of a year. Then I spent 2021 in my head; I started listening to music again, re-acquainted myself with the current Zelda fandom zeitgeist, and for the first time in 15 years, I wrote a ton of fic in search of escapism on a very unusual wave of creativity as I just waited the pandemic out.

Here we are, 2 years since the pandemic began, and the omicron numbers across the globe are staggering. With this recent tsunami of new Covid cases, though the policies in our household hadn’t changed much since 2020, it somehow feels like we’re extra locked down. Maybe it all just hits different now, because it’s been 2 years and I’m exhausted and emotionally drained. Or maybe it’s because there is less general alignment on how dangerous things are right now.

Much to my dismay—and envy—I’m hearing about how friends and friends-of-friends are shouting, “Damn the torpedoes!” as they hop on planes to resume their international tourism.

I so wish I could do that, but there is no way right now; in my head, it’s like setting sail into a storm that probably won’t kill you, but would be super anxious and uncomfortable and could seriously damage your boat. Nah. I would rather wait for a better weather window. I don’t care if the symptoms of omicron are minimal for those up-to-date on their vaccines, I’d just rather not. I wouldn’t want to get sick out of town, I’d be worried about spreading it, and I don’t know what the long term effects to my body may be decades from now. No thanks.

So my only goal for 2022 is to take it one day at a time, because the cognitive dissonance and the constant risk assessment for what feels like absolutely everything is just too exhausting to do much else. The fog of war is only out about six feet ahead of us in every direction, so of course I’m not going to try to plan for anything beyond that right now. But that also hurts in its own way, because I thought for sure that we’d be back to normal by now. And for many of my friends, they’re resuming normal non-essential activities as though the pandemic was over (I get it, pandemic fatigue is real and everyone has their thresholds for risk), which I hear about and triggers serious nostalgia and the dreaded fear of missing out (I stepped away from Facebook mid 2020 for this among many other reasons). Every day I’m finding myself mourning the life we all had before the pandemic began.

Of course, while locking down helps ensure safety and minimizes pandemic anxiety, the trade-off is serious cabin fever. I’m more fidgety and irritable recently, and my patience is so much less than it used to be. I’m just tired and frayed.

While running around Hyrule after work last night, I found that I’m more distracted by climbing and roaming and seeing what’s over the next hill than I am actually progressing the campaign. There were a handful of places in Ocarina of Time that captured my imagination that I just loved to hang out in and study, but I typically keep to the golden path and try to get through games quickly. That means unresolved side quests, fewer heart containers, lower level weapons, and repeatedly getting my ass handed to me by Ganon until I get back out there and grind some more.

But this game… I just want to explore. I want to sightsee. I want to soak in the environmental storytelling, take in the architecture, relax by a pond, watch the weather change, see what’s around the next corner, and get completely turned around and lost.

Hyrule has become a destination. Stuck at home for 2 years, that sense of discovery and adventure was missing in my pandemic life, and I am astonished at how well this game is filling that void.

I’m so glad I waited 5 years to play this game, at a time when I genuinely need it. 😂

[capricornus-rex]

Two Sides of the Coin (5)

Chapter 5: Not Exactly According to Plan | Jidné Sheedra x Cal Kestis

Summary: Hell-bent on exacting revenge and retrieving the Holocron, the dreaded Darth Vader is now on the hunt for the young Jedi Knight, Cal Kestis. Under the assumption that he still possessed the artifact, while fueled by the intrigue of the boy’s strength and skill with the Force, the dark lord hires the bounty hunter, Jidné Sheedra, to track him down and have him delivered alive. However, the task becomes a trial for young Jidné, as she faces a conflict that tests her beliefs of a scarred past she had hidden for so long.

A/N: And now, the moment y’all been waiting for~~~ :”D

Tagging y’all for this pivotal moment: @berenilion @stellar-trinity @peterwandaparker @calgasm @silver-is-in-too-many-fandoms @queen-destenie @justtinfoley​ @sweeetteaa​ @calsponchoemporium​ @fallenjedii​ @cal-jestis​ @superwarsofthrones​ @ayamenimthiriel​

Also in AO3

Tags: Fem OC, Jidné Sheedra, Force-Sensitive! Fem OC, Bounty Hunter! Fem OC, Jedi! Fem OC

Chapters: 1 – 2 – 3 | Previous: Part 4 | Next: Part 6 | Masterlist

5 of ?

OMBARI, PONDARA SYSTEM, OUTER RIM TERRITORIES

In the lusher parts of Ombari, the Mantis has landed itself near the hilltop town. The most prominent landmark of that settlement was the temple spire that soared to the heavens and nearly pierced the clouds—it was a sanctum of another long-forgotten civilization before this one. Buildings wrapped around the foot of the spire, whether it be homes or business establishments, thieves and honest people alike loitered the streets; a populace of diverse species and humans have housed themselves in this crude location.

If one would take a good look at the surrounding forest, remnants of what ought to be an ancient city—in the same timeline when the temple was at its prime—have been devoured by the flora and the fauna had made it their dominion along with the wilderness. The main road branched into different directions, leading to several other establishments in a fair distance from the city, and even branched through the “safer” part of the woods.

The Mantis kept her distance from the town, docking just behind the city across a river; Cal insisted that they land near the river that divides the city and the woods so that they’re in the median, personally, it’ll just be easy for him to find his way back, whether he goes to the forest or to the city.

The young Jedi also argued that they still remained closer to civilization, knowing that the captain preferred that instead of wild animals that can fold the Mantis in ten seconds. Greez took it to great consideration—much to his hidden chagrin—and landed the ship amongst the high trees that walled the settlement from the unforgiving badlands beyond.

“I should’ve fit some more armaments on this old girl!” Greez stressed, flailing his arms to further express his chagrin.

“I’m sure it’s nothing, Greez,” Cere reassured, her tone is a perfect contrast to the captain’s. “Besides, predators don’t usually show themselves in the open.”

“Yeah, it makes them more vulnerable to the bigger ones,” Cal added.

Greez stammered, uncomforted by the Jedi’s logic, “There’s always a bigger one!”

“Well, I guess there’s no going around for me, not until I’ve convinced Greez enough that everything’s fine in this planet,” Cere sighed as she confided to Cal in the holotable room.

“Ya know I can hear you!” Greez cried from the cockpit.

Cal chuckled before adding, “You guys can take a look around if you like, we’d still end up meeting back here in the Mantis anyway.”

“Fair point, you be careful out there,”

Cal straightened the neckline of his black poncho, BD-1 hopped over and clutched on the belt strap on his back and exited the Mantis. The door unfurled to reveal to him the world in a much larger scale. He felt small, but in a good way; he surveyed the horizon, not knowing which direction to go to first.

The first step onto Ombari’s soil hit different. Cal basked in the warm sunlight and felt a cool, light drizzle kiss his freckled cheeks. Rain and sunshine have mingled together, which was typical in a tropical planet. Meanwhile, in the first few miles into the badlands from the border, Jidné docked the Scarab by the greater water hole that stretched to the more abundant half of Ombari’s mainland.

Her end of the homing beacon continued to glow blue, it beeped a slow, monotonous rhythm indicating that her distance from the target was still far. Panning her head across the desert, she doesn’t spot any silver dorsal fin sticking out like a sore thumb in this reddish-orange wasteland; so, she headed north, towards the denser part of the planet.

The badlands was composed of uphill mesas that overlook the valley of the other side. From Jidné’s vantage point, the city was in sight, as well as the surrounding forest. She fished out her binoculars and scanned the area, searching for the ship among the trees—they were high enough to conceal an Imperial outpost or tower, but that won’t stop her from finding her target.

“Now, where could you be hiding, my little redhead?” Jidné muttered as she peered through her lens left and right.

The sun caught a twinkle of a silver tip shyly peeking out of the treeline. The bounty hunter immediately focused her binoculars in that direction, her thumb turned the knob of the zoom, even with her binoculars she still squinted her eyes in the viewfinder, attempting to see through the thin gaps between the trees.

The homing beacon beeped again, only this time the rhythm of the glow sped up a few beats. She put away her binoculars and went downhill, literally crossing the between the badlands and the mainland. Her boots scraped against the rocky slope, the forest floor carpeted by fallen leaves cushioned her fall; when she erected herself after her landing, she patted the holster on her hip and the felt for her rifle—both weapons are still on her person.

She stalked through the dense greenery, the dimness of the trees’ shade unsettled her little droid on her back.

“Yeah, it’s a little spooky. We’re getting out of here, don’t worry,”

Through the thick foliage, Jidné and ID-3 weren’t alone; amongst the shrubs and treetops where they hide, their sights followed the girl whom they immediately labeled as an intruder of their home. Black claws gripped around the branches, the muscles on their hind legs strained and prepped for a lunge if need be; the ones on the ground slipped and stealthily passed through the plants, concealing themselves from the human’s plain eyes.

“I’m sure it’s nothing, ID, we just need to move fast if we don’t want anything catching up to us,” Jidné reassured, although she was getting uneasy herself. Her hand subtly crawled down to the flap of her holster, carefully unbuttoning the cover.

The animals were surely making their presence known, Jidné had already spotted one of them moving from its hiding place to the next; their low growling grumbled amongst the tree trunks. By instinct, she fished out her lightsaber hilt with a slight tug using the Force and is beginning to prepare herself in a stance.

She focused on the animal that she spotted moving cover to cover, little did she know that this one was a decoy. The true predator was waiting for her on its perch in the treetops. Jidné engaged at the animal when it revealed itself from the bushes: a large cat-like animal with dark, coarse fur, it carried itself with a silent grace with its slender yet muscular limbs, curved claws as deadly as a scimitar, and a long tail used to grapple on its perches.

It bared its teeth as it approached Jidné, asserting its frightful dominance in this jungle. Its back arched and its lips pulled back to show more teeth, agitated at the hiss of the saber’s blade, threatened by the foreign, purple glow that shone in its golden brown eyes.

“Down, kitty,” Jidné hummed.

The decoy still confronted Jidné, affording its companion to descend upon her in the speed of light, its claws fixed on the rifle, assuming that it was a bodily appendage than an actual weapon. Her startled shriek must have alerted every single creature—big or small—within the forest. In the distance, Cal jerked his head to the direction of the human scream, he squinted his eyes as the sound died down and was replaced by the harmonious chirping of birds.

“That doesn’t sound right,” Cal tells BD-1.

Jidné’s true assailant dragged her violently across the forest floor by the rifle on her back; she unbuckled the strap across her body to break free, she succeeded and crawled away—saber still in hand, but her grip was trembling, trying to pull herself together while her life is still flashing before her eyes. The animal thrashed its head wildly left and right while chewing at the weapon in an attempt to eat it; realizing that it was inedible, it flung it far behind its back and focused on the real prey.

Her fingers tensed around her hilt. For every flimsy swing she did to make them back away, they come back at her two steps closer with their yellow, blood-stained fangs in full display. She focused on the one that was closest to her—the decoy—and she grazed its shoulder with her lightsaber. It wailed in pain as the searing heat cooked its skin and fur, Jidné’s attack just made it angrier, all of the hairs on its body pricked up as it arched its back in retaliation.

“Come on!” Jidné screeched tauntingly.

She finally attacked the decoy. The decoy continued to lunge at her, thirsting for revenge after being nicked by her blade. Cal had heard the wail of the animal that Jidné had maimed, it rang loud and clear in his earshot, he knew he was in the right track. He sped through the forest: vaulting over fallen logs and boulders that stood in his path, shouldering his way through the large-leafed bushes and the trees until the humming of a saber was audible.

Cal discovered a girl wielding a purple saber, flailing it at the animals’ faces as she tried to keep herself from their claws’ or fangs’ reach. He watched her for a moment, slashing away at the one already riddled with seared cuts over its body. The wild cat creature lunged at her, in turn, Jidné smoothly evaded it and followed it by piercing the ribcage of the animal with her saber.

A third cat appeared in the place of the one she just killed, angrier and hungrier for meat. As if to exact vengeance on its fallen member, the pack leader charged at her, claws at the ready and reared—its heavy paw slapped away the saber from her hand, buried within the thick foliage of the forest floor.

“NO!!” she screeched, the animal had rendered her empty-handed and vulnerable.

Just when the animals thought that had her in their jaws, the newcomer tried to pounce on her until she seized the leaping animal in mid-air using the Force—Cal witnessed this, awe-stricken at the discovery of a fellow Jedi—her Force-push flung the animal away but quickly shook it off and readied itself back on its four paws.

Cal jumped into the action, instinctively stretching out his hand to inflict Force-slow on the alpha as he joined Jidné. She didn’t take her eyes off the animals, though she stole a glance at her unlikely helper.

Red hair.

Her stomach sank, but everything was happening so quickly that she couldn’t register them all at once in her panicking brain.

Cal was on the offensive and targeted the alpha, riddling its body with orange-and-black searing cuts the same way Jidné did on the one she killed; seeing that she was empty-handed, he quickly twisted the sleeve and separated his lightsabers.

“Here!” he tossed his second saber at Jidné. She caught it, and in a graceful twirl, she’d severed the newcomer cat’s forelegs in a clean, perfectly-timed sweep, killing it in the process.

The alpha backed away, leaned its head back and produced an ear-shattering roar—so loud, in fact, that Jidné had to duck and shield her one ear with her free hand. Little by little, leaner versions of the animal—which ought to be juveniles learning how to hunt—appear out from their hiding spots upon the call of their pack leader, it’s as if they’ve organized this whole ambush for the sake of finding food—which neither Jidné nor Cal do not exactly plan to be.

The juveniles appeared in all sides around them, they spun while literally back-to-back with one another as they surveyed the jungle clearing, counting the reinforcements with their eyes.

Four of the creatures rejoined their leader on the ground, backs arched, and throat rumbling with threatening growls. The death scent of their two fallen members roused up their senses, baring their teeth in anger at the two assailants.

“Something tells me they’re not here for belly rubs,” Cal jested.

That drew a giggle out of Jidné, “No, I don’t think so!”

Both Jidné and Cal brandished their lightsabers at the large, feral cat-like creatures. One immediately lunged at them, buckling its claws at Cal and pounced on him, trying to rip his throat open—Jidné kicked it away from him and left a diagonal gash across its chest, killing it instantly; the scarred alpha attempts to strike back at her, charging at her at a feral speed, she dodge-rolled it and only managed to scratch its thick, aging hide.

“On your left, ginger!”

Cal took on the two new juveniles on his left, he tossed his saber at one while the other jumped on him—he backed away, dodging the jump attack by a hair and skillfully caught the returning lightsaber, he didn’t spare a second in killing the second. That leaves them with the surviving juvenile and the sturdy alpha, who was still standing strong after being nicked repeatedly by both of these humans. It probably had its last straw and paced cautiously at the two.

The remaining juvenile pounced at Jidné—already exhausted at this whole debacle—and dug its sickle-shaped claws onto her shoulders. The borrowed saber was still in her hand, she angled her wrist so the emitter faces the animal, and with a single press of the button, the blade pierced through one side of the animal’s neck to the other. She rolled it away from her body and brought herself on her knees, catching her breath as she stayed close by her unlikely ally.

The alpha had enough of this, of course. Out of mercy, its lunging attack was seized by Cal who Force-pushed it with an intensity that it resorted to run away into hiding. When the whole ordeal was over, Cal turned to the girl.

“You alright?”

He reached out his hand in front of Jidné, she stared at the hand for one second and then turned to the face of the boy who helped her. She denied that her heart skipped a beat. Cal pulled her up to her feet the moment they joined hands.

“Yeah… just a little shaken,” she dusted off the dirt that stuck on her jacket and removed her cowl to do the same. She remembered that she still had his saber and briskly returned it to him. “Thanks for this, by the way.”

He takes his second saber and conjoins it with the other, “Don’t mention it.”

The awkward silence between was filled in by the insects chirping amongst the woods. BD-1 hopped off of Cal’s shoulder to scan the dead animals and skittered briskly back to him.

“So those cats were called Bashiji, huh? I’ll give it a read later,” he whispered to BD-1, and then cleared his throat, recomposing himself in front of the girl. “Name’s Cal. Kestis. By the way.”

He stretched out hand again at her. Her eyes shifted between Cal—beaming a small yet friendly smile at her—and his hand.

“Jidné. Jidné Sheedra.”

She takes his hand and shakes on it. From her touch, the ripple of the Force that has been lightly nudging at Cal ever since he came in to this planet seemed to have amplified. He gave himself the benefit of the doubt and smiled as he exchanged niceties with Jidné.

“Jidné, I’ll remember that,”

A flustered Jidné attempted to subtly pull her hand away from her own target. She awkwardly managed a smile and walked past his shoulder, walking to the foliage where the Bashiji had slapped her saber away. Using the Force, she extended her open hand and the hilt popped out of the pile of leaves where it fell into. She instantly clipped it to her belt the moment it returned to her.

“You’re a Jedi, too?”

Well, shit. Her voice in her mind hissed.

Her stomach sank again just right when it worked its way back up to where it should be. The bridge of her nose crumpled upon realizing that she has no escape from that question, luckily, she had her back turned to Cal when he asked.

[mollymauk-teafleak]

i fumble for your figure in the darkness

Please consider reblogging or leaving a comment on Ao3! I know it’s a small fandom so every response I get just means so much to me!

I thought it was time I introduced my Morden AU! Rather than posing as lords, the boys are semi famous, often scandalous musicians.

And they're just as needy for each other, particularly after a show.

----------

Alec knew this was what Seregil was made for.

He saw it in the almost tangible buzz of excitement right from the morning of their gig, the way he’d be unable to sit still more than usual and would be humming their set list right from when he brushed his teeth. It would be in how he carefully selected his outfit and did his make up, so glad to have the freedom to do so, the bigger, more high profile performances always came with their own stylists that he’d inevitably clash with. It was in how he prepared his guitar back stage, how he’d carefully tune and polish the sleek wood even if it was already pristine, how he’d restlessly run his fingertips over the strings to make fractured but pretty chords that sounded as excited as he did.

And it was in the way his shoulders would settle into a confident, easy slackness, the crooked smile that would alight on his face as they stepped out on stage, the eager way he approached the mic to the cheers and whistles of the crowd. And the way he’d turn to give Alec a wink that was meant only for him, even as he faced a crowd of hundreds, one that reminded Alec of their early days practising in Seregil’s apartment together, why he’d first fallen in love with music.

And with Seregil himself.

He’d known since those first days that this was what Seregil lived for. The whole being a semi famous singer had always been a front for his real work, the spying and housebreaking, the gathering of sensitive information. Behind the carefully constructed tabloid scandals and drunken antics at disgustingly expensive parties and sold out shows, Seregil was a nightrunner through and through and Alec was the same.

But it was undeniable at these smaller, more intimate gigs they still did in the independent bars and tiny theatres around the city for the crowds that had been there since Seregil had started performing in Rhíminee. Alec knew his lover was made to be a showman, he was made to entertain and share his music with people just like him, outcasts and exiles and runaways.

From the first notes of whichever song they’d chosen to open with, probably one of the more popular ones to warm up the crowd, as he’d bring his bass to life with some invigorating, thrumming rhythm, humming the harmony into his mic, and Seregil would start to sing while his hands went wild on his guitar strings, Alec would know that his talí was exactly where he was meant to be.

And he’d also know exactly what would happen when they finished.

Alec was already braced for it when Seregil slammed him against the wall of the dressing room they shared, he was already grinning and already thrusting his hips forward.

“We have a bed at home…” he gasped, still breathless from their last encore, there was a note at the end that he had to practically howl, “A perfectly good bed, just a short cab ride away…”

“Are we even rock stars if we don’t ruin some dressing rooms?” Seregil purred, his skin burning with the effort and the need as he slipped his hands under Alec’s shirt. They were calloused from his years of playing, Alec could even feel where one of the strings had nicked him.

“You’re a rock star, talí,” Alec corrected, taking Seregil by the hips and jerking him closer, “I’m your backup singer.”

Seregil rolled his eyes, tossing the loose strands of hair back out of his eyes. Both of them kept their long hair tied back for shows, it was just easier, but after a full set and then several encores, both Seregil’s bun and Alec’s braid were coming undone. Most was plastered to their sweaty foreheads and whatever wasn’t already a mess would soon get that way as Seregil freed one hand from Alec’s waistband and combed his fingers through those long blonde flyaways.

“You’re not my backup anything,” he huffed, “You’ve got all the writing skills, your voice is gorgeous and...your clever hands…”

The clever hands he spoke of turned his indignance into a soft, shuddery gasp as they slid down his ripped jeans to free his erection. Quite a feat, given how tight they were. Alec grinned and kissed him, happy to know Seregil’s lipstick would soon be smudged all over his own mouth. The hand in his hair was now tugging more than it was stroking, raising goosebumps on his flushed skin. Both of them knew what they wanted and were making it very clear.

By now their long suffering manager knew to leave them alone for at least an hour after a show like this. Thero had learned a lot of hard lessons pretending to wrangle Seregil and it hadn’t gotten any easier since Alec had come along a year ago.

Seregil pulled away, leaving his talí whining at the loss, shimmying his jeans right down to his boots and hopping up onto the dressing table they’d been given. They always shared a dressing room, why hide what was already obvious to anyone who met them? In the harsh glow of the vanity lights, Seregil looked like the ethereal, otherworldly faie he sang like and still was deep down even after years of exile.

“Come,” he beckoned, grinning crookedly.

Alec did, more than willingly, yanking down his own pants and ducking between Seregil’s knees so he could have all of him pressed so temptingly against him. He was so warm down there, cock already slick and hard and wanting. And, as was now very obvious, open and ready for Alec.

His distinctive blue eyes widened in some mix of shock, awe and disbelief, “Have you...were you like this all night?”

Seregil smirked, beyond delighted that he could still make his lover blush, “Are you surprised? And, a more important question, are you going to stand there and let it go to waste?”

Alec rolled his eyes though he had to admit, it was a unique kind of delicious to be able to sink right into Seregil with no preamble or fuss, knowing that his body had been waiting for him all through the show, imagining Seregil rocking on his own fingers in the cramped bathroom stall and imagining this moment. From the way he groaned, thighs tightening around Alec’s hips and fingers digging into his hair, Seregil’s thoughts were running along the same tracks.

And then there was no thoughts in Alec’s mind but the rhythmic pull and tug of their bodies, the friction and sweat mingling on their bodies, the tight, sweet heat of Seregil around him, how he held him fast. They were well aware they had to be quiet, even with the rumours that surrounded them, so after a few thrusts, Seregil took one of Alec’s hands, the one that wasn’t braced against the mirror, and put it over his own mouth. The sight alone was hot enough that Alec could have finished then and there, if he hadn’t taken a few deep, ragged breaths to ground himself.

Alec knew there were so many cliches about music and making love, in how they were similar. But he couldn’t deny it was the exact same fervour, the need, the vulnerability he found when he gave himself completely to whatever song he was playing, surrendering to Seregil was the same. And neither he could have imagined himself doing before he came to the city.

It wasn’t long before they were close, they didn’t have the time to go slow and savour it, that would come later in their own bed as dawn broke over Rhíminee. This was fierce and fast and messy, an explosion of adrenaline and emotion, it was survival. So Alec felt no shame when he staggered against Seregil, filling him to the brim with his heat as he growled low in his throat, toppling his lover in the same moment. Heavy, wet spurts hit Alec’s shirt and he mentally reminded himself to change before they left the dressing room.

Alec’s palm was wet with the condensation of Seregil’s broken cry of release. He quickly replaced it with his lips, kissing his lover with a soft, relieved sigh that said everything he didn’t have the time to put into words. Seregil smiled, spent, against his mouth and let his hands fall from Alec’s hair to his shoulders, holding him fast.

“I love you,” he managed to gasp out, once his lungs could work again, “I love you, talí…”

“I love you too,” Alec murmured, unwilling to part from him, at least for now, his smile soft and so gentle.

There was much to prove to Alec that this was what Seregil, his talímenios, was made for. But maybe, even after so long doubting himself, it was what he was made for too.

[bbrandy2002]

Happy Birthday Burnsy!

@burnsoslow​

Burns,

You probably don't remember this, but the first time I ever talked to you was a reply to your comment on my fic, The Breakfast Club, in early July. I'm not sure what possessed you to reach out to me a week later in chats but, you did and its been one wild and crazy ride since then. You've certainly come a long way since we were new and mulling over those earlier stories-or in your case-Heavier Things, Chapter 1 (YOU ARE STILL WRITING THAT...LOL) . And while you have sooooo many friends here, for some reason you chose me to be your Tumbler Bestie. I hope you know you are so much more than that though ... you're my sister, my twinsie, a truly good friend. You've inspired me in ways you'll never know. I have watched you grow in your craft and reach an unprecedented level of talent that is evidenced in the quality of your work and through the amount of enthusiastic readers who can't wait for you to post the next epic chapter. You did it all through a tremendous amount of hard work, lot of tears and because you have a likeness that draws people to you. You're just truly an incredibly, special person who possesses a certain spark that makes this crazy place even better. And I think I tell you enough, but you really are one of the best writers in this fandom. And as you say to me all the time, I'm gonna say to you ... I'm one proud TBFF!! I can't thank you enough for all the late night laughs, bull sessions, real talks, 6 hour chats about nothing, letting me know when I'm being a dumbass or just being there when things get really, really tough. The fic I wrote isn't anything special and definitely could have been better, however I hope in some small way it captures the essence of our crazy friendship. Keep growing and shining and being your amazing self.

Love you my friend and Happy Birthday!!

Brandy

**You asked for Drake, Alyssa, Riley and Liam shenanigans. I don't know if this will be what you were expecting, but its what I came up with after 20 different versions. You'll recognize some of this as inside jokes or dialogue and situations from your own stories (yep, I stole them...lol). This is wacky and crazy and makes no sense. Okay Im shutting up now.

Thank you @sirbeepsalot for gutting the hell out of this on Monday night and @emceesynonymroll for SO MUCH of your help and suggestions. Also to my lovely pre-readers/keep me saners @jessiembruno and @loveellamae

Song Inspiration: You're Still The One by Shania Twain. **Drakes final dialogue will come from these lyrics.

Alyssa pulled her black mini-van through the palace gates, running over a cone and nearly taking out Michael, the security guard, in the process. Her hair was swept up into a very messy bun and her sunglasses were perched atop her head. She was wearing a blue, faded Bears sweatshirt, black leggings with a small hole in the crotch, and a mismatched pair of flip-flops -- both were for the left foot. Unable to find a close parking space, she double-parked her van in two handicapped-accessible spaces. She checked her reflection in the rear view mirror and wiped away the smudges of mascara that had run below her eyes. 

She was hurt and mad as hell, yet waited until, 'DIRRTY’, finished on the radio before shutting the van off and tossing the keys in her oversized mom purse. Alyssa’s dainty fingers fumbled hastily as she tried to release the lock on her seatbelt with no luck. "You son of a bitch! Let me go!"

After pulling and tugging, twisting and karate chopping at it as hard as she could, she finally freed herself.

“HAHA! MOTHERFUCKER! GOTCHA!”

Alyssa snatched her purse and cell phone before she swung the door open, hopped out, and kicked the door shut. Still mumbling obscenities, she walked a few paces before turning back around and hitting the van’s hood with her swinging purse. “Fucking hold me hostage like that again and I’m driving your ass into a ravine!” 

Everyone who knows Alyssa Walker would say she is generally a fun, loving, and sociable little woman. She’s a devoted wife who has been married to the man of her dreams for several years and a wonderful mother to their children. She's very successful professionally, having served as the Royal Education Director for 8 years. A social butterfly of sorts, she’s been known to give Maxwell a run for his money, in regards to being considered the life of any party. On most days, Alyssa is typically outgoing and joyful.

Today is not one of those days.

Her flip flops were barely hanging on as she trudged across the lawn that led to the palace gardens,  thoughts of her morning crossed her mind. 

For every single birthday since marrying Drake, she would wake up to the smell of bacon, scrambled eggs, and french toast wafting through the cabin. She would lay in bed and pretend to sleep until Drake and the kids burst in with a tray full of freshly prepared foods, a hot cup of coffee, and a glass of orange juice. They would shower her with kisses and hugs, sing Happy Birthday, and then wait anxiously as Alyssa took the first bite to see if their mother approved of the time and effort they put into making her birthday morning special. When she finished, like clockwork, Drake would send the kids outside with the eldest child and give Alyssa a gift that only he could give her; one that required the skilled use of his lips, hands, and the colossus that was his … well … colossus.

Except, there were no bacon, eggs, or french toast. There were no kids jumping on the bed to wish her a happy birthday and fighting over which one hugged her first. Drake did not send the kids away when she finished her breakfast nor had she risen from the bed barely able to walk from the most mind-blowing sex she’d ever had. 

None of the things she expected happened. 

When Alyssa woke up this morning no one was home. All she found was a letter by the coffee pot from Drake, telling her the kids went with Maxwell for the day and that he would see her after work. To make things worse, her 20 attempts to call him that morning went straight to voicemail.

Drake had been working late and acting shady for months, telling her he was helping Liam take care of some horses they were preparing for next month's derby. Lately, she was beginning to wonder if there was something more he wasn’t telling her.

Now she was late for her luncheon with Riley.

As Alyssa rounded the corner that entered the gardens, she saw Riley on the patio arranging a tray of fresh fruit and sandwiches on the table. An array of metallic birthday balloons danced and bounced from the chairs with the changing breeze. Alyssa frowned with resentment towards her best friend of over 20 years. Bitch is still in her 30s.

Riley’s focus was averted when she heard the sound of rustling leaves behind her. She turned on her heels and said, “Happy 40th Birthday, Old Lady!” Her cheery voice trailed off when she caught sight of her disheveled friend. 

“Lyss? What the hell happened to you? You look like shit.”

Alyssa strode past Riley and threw her purse on the ground beside a chair before she slumped down into it.

Riley furrowed her brows with a snicker. “Bad day?”

Alyssa reached for a strawberry and dipped the entire berry, stem and all, into a dish of melted chocolate before leaving behind a trail of droplets from the dish to her mouth. As she chewed, she mewled. “Ma life if ofer!”

Riley scrunched up her face and arched back in an attempt to avoid the spittle of food that sprayed from her friend’s full mouth. She sighed heavily, grabbed a napkin, and wiped away the chunks of fruit-and-chocolate-mixed saliva that landed on her arm. “Oookaay, what’s going on? Why is your life over?”

Alyssa threw the stem on her plate and leaned forward into the table, gesticulating dramatically. “He didn’t tell me happy birthday, Ri! There was no breakfast, there was no spoiling, there was no fucking, colossus dick! There was nothing!”

“Who? Drake?”

“No, fucking Santa Clause! Of course Drake.”

Riley bit into her sandwich as Alyssa complained about Drake’s lack of attentiveness over the past few months. It wasn't the first time her friend had mentioned this to her; however, judging by how upset she was and the fact that she was dressed like a $2 hooker, she knew it was really serious now. 

Alyssa continued to point out how Drake was always working and, supposedly, was helping Liam out with the horses too. When he returned home each night, his clothes were sweaty and dirty but never smelled like horse shit. To make things worse, the sex had dwindled. Alyssa could give up a lot of things in life, but Drake's dick was not one of them.

“I know he’s cheating, Ri,” she lamented, wiping a stray tear from her cheek.

“Nooo.”

“YES! He’s found another woman … someone younger, sluttier, who hasn't popped out a bunch of kids!”

Riley scoffed. “Lyss, everyone knows Drake worships the ground you walk on. I’m sure there is a good reason why he hasn’t paid as much attention to you lately.”

“But he KNOWS I’m needy and clingy and desperate for love!” she wailed.

Riley lifted the napkin from her lap and tossed it on the table. Her friend was a hot mess -- a more than usual hot mess -- and she wanted to help. She stood and walked around the table to her grieved friend and grabbed her tiny hand. “Come on.”

Alyssa’s weepy eyes stared up at her in confusion before she let out a small sniffle. “Where are we going?”

“We are going to the stables. You said he is there today, so let's go talk to him.”

Alyssa sat back in her chair and crossed her arms. “I’m not going, Ri. He needs to come to me!”

Riley began pulling on her friend's arm, but Alyssa was not being very cooperative with her efforts. “Get your ass out of the chair, Lyss, and go get your man.”

Alyssa pulled back harder. “Get off me, you skank ass ho!”

Riley continued to tug at her, surprised there was so much strength in such a little body. “Bitch, I will drag your ass and this chair all the way to the stables!” 

“I’d like to see you try, dumbass!”

With a hard jerk from Riley, Alyssa’s chair tipped over and she landed on the ground. Her resolve never once faded. While Riley continued to tug at her arm, Alyssa reached over and grabbed her broken flip flop and began smacking vigorously back at her. 

Riley immediately let go of her and stumbled backwards. “You have gone insane!” she groaned. “I tried to help you and, if this is how you’re gonna act, leave me out of it!” She turned to walk away and glanced back quickly. “You know the way out.”

“Ri … wait.” Alyssa called out softly to her.

Riley stopped and quirked her brow with a huff. “What?”

“Can palace security take us down? You know my ass ain’t walking that far.”

Riley called for a guard to take the 30-second drive to the stables. Both girls hopped off the cart and entered the empty barn. Riley called out for members of the stable staff while Alyssa’s eyes roamed the perimeter for her husband.

“Your Majesty? Did you need something?”

Riley turned to face the man in charge as he walked around the corner wiping his hands off with an old cloth. Before she could acknowledge him, Alyssa popped in front of her, nearly knocking her over.

“Eric!! Where’s Drake?”

The Queen smiled at the stable manager. “Eric, we’re looking for Drake.”

He looked between the two women, confusion etched across his face. “Is he supposed to be here, ma’am?”

Riley looked at Alyssa, who looked like she was ready to snap at his question, then back to Eric. “Um … yes. He told Mrs. Walker here that he would be helping in the stables today.”

“Hell … I’d say its been a good --” Eric paused to calculate before turning his attention back to the women. “--three  … maybe four weeks since I last saw Walker here. Came down with King Liam to take the newest horse, Driam, out for a ride … it made me real hard ma’am”

“Hold the fuck up!” Alyssa yelled with one hand on her hip and the other covering her forehead. “He told me he has been helping out here for the last several months. Is that not true?”

Eric, realizing what is going on, backed up defensively. He could sense this was not something he wanted to be a part of. “Nope. I'm not getting in the middle of your marital woes, Ms. Alyssa.” I just want in the middle of your husbands.

Alyssa approached him and aggressively poked at his chest. “Oh, you are in so far in the middle of my woes now, Ricky boy! So drop the bros before hoes bullshit and spill what you know.”

Riley grabbed both of Alyssa's shoulders from behind and pulled her aside. “It’s not his fault, Lyss. Plus … I think Eric’s the ho in this case”

Alyssa shrugged her away and began to pace back and forth frantically. “I’m seeing sounds, Ri. I am seeing fucking sounds all over this bitch!”

“Oh God, Lyss! No!  Don’t look at the sounds ... Don’t look at the sounds” She turned her frantic friend around to face her, squeezing her arms soothingly. “Look at me.”

Alyssa’s lips quivered as she stared back at her best friend. “I’ve lost him, Ri. I’ve lost him.”

“No, you haven’t.”

Alyssa sniffled through her tears and wiped her nose on her shirt sleeve. “Can me and the kids live with you now that I’m a single mother with a cheating ass husband?”

Riley pulled her into a hug, rubbing comfortingly along her back. “Of course you can, but maybe we should talk to Liam first.”

Lyss wiped her tear-stained face on Riley's shoulder and pulled back. “Liam loves me. He won’t care if I stay with you.”

Riley smiled with a nod. “Yes, he does love you, but Drake loves you too and you know that. There has to be a good explanation for everything.”

“Then why did he lie? He’s never lied to me, Ri.”

Riley gave her friend a sympathetic frown and shrugged. “I don’t know, girl, but let’s find out”

Palace security was once again summoned to haul the girls back to the palace.

Liam was in his office taking part in a video conference with Queen Elizabeth when his door burst open.

“WHERE IS MY HUSBAND?!”

His eyes went wide as he cut them to the flash of Alyssa barging in and stopping behind him at his desk; Riley was just a step behind her. Liam’s face flushed as he looked back at the camera and apologized for the interruption.

“Alyssa, dear,” he whispered. “Now is not a good time.” He motioned to the video feed on his laptop.

Alyssa turned to the laptop with the 106-year-old Queen’s face still illuminating from it. “Turn the hearing aid down, Lizzie! Unless you know where Drake is, this conversation doesn’t concern you!”

“ALYSSA!!” Liam stood, towering over her petite frame. “Are you coming for your King?” (had to put that in there lol).

“Liam, she's had a rough day and, remember, we love Alyssa,” Riley interjected with an innocent smile.

“We do, but she can’t just barge in here while I’m working!”

Alyssa grabbed his tie and yanked him down closer to her face. “Please, just tell me you know where Drake is. He said he was working for you and he’s not. He didn’t tell me happy birthday, he didn’t make my breakfast, and he didn’t fuck my brains out this morning!”

“Oh My!”

Alyssa turned back to the laptop. “I thought I told you to turn your hearing aid down, you old coot!”

Liam’s hands covered his face in embarrassment as he fell back into his chair. 

Alyssa crouched down in front of Liam and pulled his hands from his face. “Real talk, Li. Did you or did you not ask Drake to work for you?”

He stared at her for a moment with a deer-in-the-headlights look. He knew exactly where his best friend was and what he was doing -- he had known for months -- but he couldn’t tell her that. 

Nervous, Liam knew there was one way to solve this problem. He reached over to his intercom and pressed the call button. “Bastien.”

A split second later, the door to Liam’s office opened and the head guard entered. “Your Majesty?” he said as he bowed.

“Yes, could you see Alyssa and my wife out, please.”

Exasperated with Liam's request, Alyssa stood back up and eyed Bastien with a steely glare. “I’m not afraid of this bitch! He’s the one who raised the man whore my husband became with all his hookers and shit. My children are fatherless now because of you!”

Refusing to leave, Alyssa plopped down on Liam’s lap and gripped the armrests of his chair tightly with both hands. Her bony ass caused him to yelp as it dug into the muscles of his thigh. She reached for Liam’s scotch  and took a sip before leaning down so that her face could be picked up by the camera.

“Alright, Liz, help a fellow girl out here! You have a lot of experience with a cheating ass spouse and son … should I rip his big, beautiful nuts off? Orrrr … just take it up the ass like you did?"

The Queen of England clutched her chest with an exasperated expression. "Little lady … your behavior is simply prudish and insulting. I highly suggest you learn proper etiquette when addressing me … and, as for your husband, I can see why the poor man's eyes have roamed with such an immoral and, need I dare say, crazed woman such as yourself for a wife."

"Conversation over, bitch!" Alyssa threw the rest of Liam’s drink at the screen, hoping it drenched the queen and slammed the laptop shut.

"God Dammit!" Liam yelled out while he wrapped his arms around her from behind before standing up and handing her off to his guard.

With Bastien holding Alyssa in his arms, her little legs dangling and kicking at his shins, Riley took action.

The Queen grabbed her friend's feet, which were now bare from her crumbled flip flops, and tried with all her might to pull her back.

"You’re gonna break her hip, Bastien! She's an old, feeble woman now! She could have osteoporosis or the menopause!”

Giving their best efforts to escape, including Alyssa's teeth being firmly sunk into Bastien’s upper arm, neither were able to overpower his strength. 

While carrying Alyssa and dragging Riley -- who was still holding onto her friends legs -- Bastien was able to get the two of them out of Liam's office and into the main corridor.

Alyssa followed Riley back to her quarters, where she was given a pair of flip-flops and new leggings from Riley’s 12-year-old daughter’s closet. The hole in the crotch of her leggings had completely blown out during the struggle with Bastien. There were still no answers or replies from Drake, and Alyssa was beginning to feel utterly hopeless. 

Alyssa started to raid the royal couple’s liquor cabinet, happy to swipe a bottle of Balkan vodka, when Riley had an idea. She snapped her fingers with a sly grin. “I know someone who can help us find Drake.”

“Who?” 

The ladies left the quarters and walked downstairs to the ballroom. Once inside, Alyssa took a hard swig of vodka and eyed the utility closet Riley stopped in front of with a questioning look. 

The Queen gave four quick knocks followed by two slow ones and the door unlocked. Mara had been working out of this closet for years, having been fired after a fall out with Alyssa during a costume ball that nearly got her killed. The former guard walked in there during that ball and just never came back out. Riley and Bastien were the only two people who knew about this and told no one -- Bastien purely for comical reasons and Riley for a certain skill the woman possessed.

Alyssa was surprised to find the woman hiding out there after all these years. "I thought you fired her ass! I nearly got a traumatic brain injury and hearing loss from her incompetence!" 

"Shhh!" Riley pulled her friend inside, peeking around the ballroom to ensure no one was looking, and shut the door quickly. 

Riley explained how Liam revoked her cell phone pinging privileges with the guards before the costume ball all those years ago. Apparently, he wasn't too keen on her stalking the entire cast of Friends. He did what he had to do when a restraining order from Matthew Perry came across his desk. Mara, however, was still able to ping into anyone’s phone, thus, the Queen allowed her to stay.

“That's amazing,” Alyssa remarked. She pursed her lips as she scanned the tight space of the closet. “Can she find … maybe … Dwayne Johnson?”

Riley nodded. “Bitch can find anyone.” She looked to Mara, who was sitting at her desk, and winked with approval.

“Okay,” Alyssa clapped and leaned over Mara’s shoulder. “Let’s find him … I wanna know where Drake is!”

Within several seconds, an unfamiliar address popped up on the screen. It was close to the Walker cabin but still not somewhere Alyssa knew of.

She reached for a pen and a pad of paper from Mara’s desk and started to write down the location. “I can’t believe he lied to me this whole time! I must be really stupid for him to think he could actually get away with this.” Alyssa tossed the pen back on the desk and ripped the sheet of paper off the pad. “They’re gonna write a country song about me, Ri,” she cried. “Poppa’s in the graveyard and Momma’s in the pen! I just need a shotgun and for my damn dog to run away and I’ve got a hit!”

The two snuck out of the utility closet and ran to Alyssa’s van. Alyssa pulled the ticket for double parking in handicapped spaces from her wiper blade and threw it in her glove box with the rest of her parking tickets.  Riley shoveled away the piles of empty, diet coke cans and cheese whisps bags from the passenger seat  into the parking lot when she opened her door. 

Alyssa squealed her tires as she burned rubber down the palace drive, taking out the same cone again, nearly running down Michael again, and driving straight through the lowered arm of the security gate.

“WOOOO!” Riley yelled as they sped through the streets of Cordonia into the countryside. “This is just like old times in college, huh, Lyss?”

“I suppose. We’re just not high as fuck.” Alyssa raised her eyebrows and grinned slyly with an all too familiar gleam in her eyes that Riley recognized immediately. “Say … grab my purse, Ri.”

“Oh God! I know that look. We're gonna get smashed aren't we?"  Riley extended her arm behind the driver's seat. Alyssa reached into the side pocket of her purse and pulled out the rolled up, clear baggie and tossed it to her friend.

Unrolling the bag, Riley began to bounce in her seat with anticipation of smoking weed for the first time in 15 years. The excitement quickly faded.

“Um, Lyss?”

“Hmm?”

“I know I haven’t smoked pot in a while, but this looks like a bag of carrot sticks.”

“Give me that, dumbass!” Alyssa glanced over and snatched the bag. She held the bag over the steering wheel and examined it for herself. “Well fuck!! Looks like one of my kids had a really interesting snack yesterday at school. Oh well”

After a twenty-minute drive from the palace into a forested section of Cordonia, Alyssa and Riley stopped in front of a long gravel road. Riley double-checked the address on the van’s GPS with what was written on the paper.

“It says this is it. Look’s kind of desolate,” Riley mused, not sure where the isolated road would lead.

Alyssa turned the steering wheel of her van, probably a little too tipsy to drive considering she had consumed a quarter of a bottle of vodka (that the author of this story forgot about). They made it there, nonetheless, and no one was hurt. Never drink and drive!!

Lush, plentiful trees and a wooden fence lined the gravel road that seemed to lead to nowhere until they came upon a clear view of Lake Cordonia. Drake’s truck was sitting in front of a large wooden cabin with a huge, flat yard and one of the most stunning views of the lake either woman had seen anywhere. Alyssa tried to keep it together ... until she didn’t. When she saw Drake standing on the front porch, casually drinking a beer, shirtless and wiping his forehead with his denim shirt, she skidded the van into park next to his truck. 

Drake’s eyes widened when he saw his wife get out of the van wielding an ice scraper in one hand and a tire iron in the other, a look of pure hell in her eyes. 

He took a small step back. He hadn’t seen her like this since a drunken Olivia grabbed his ass at a Beaumont Bash two years ago. Drake waved his hands in front of her defensively. “Baby girl … wh … what’s going on right now?”

“Don’t you baby girl me!” Alyssa threw the ice scraper and Drake ducked just in time as it flew over his head.

Drake had no idea what the hell she was so pissed off about, but she was approaching him quickly and twirling the tire iron in her hands. He jumped over the railing of the porch and took off running around the side of the house. As he rounded the rear corner of the home, he ran directly into Riley, who was waiting to block him. The plan was a good one -- it really was -- but her thin frame was no match against the much larger Drake. With a hard thud, Riley fell backward, which caused his body to trip over her and land face down on the ground.

Drake rolled over on his back and shook his head in an attempt to get the daze out of his frazzled brain. There she was, standing over him, holding the tire iron like a bat, ready to pounce him without a second thought.

“Baby! Please tell me what’s wrong.”

“You … you’re a cheater and a liar!”

Drake went to sit up but laid back down when Alyssa flinched the hardened steel at him. “The fuck you talking about, Lyssa?”

With months of building suspicions and hurt, Alyssa took a long, deep breath and let it all out with a wail.

“I’m talking about the late nights, the shady-as-shit lies you have spewed to me over and over again. I’m talking about you missing out on dinners, coming home and falling on the bed without a word to anyone. I’m talking about only having sex with me every other day and forgetting my birthday. Now, me and the kids have to live with Liam, who hates me now because I told Queen Elizabeth she got fucked in the ass! It’s because I’m old now, isn’t it? You wanna be a Bastien and have bunga bunga sex parties with skank ass whores who have big boobies and wear their panties around their ankles! And … I just can’t compete, Drake … I just can’t.”

Drake held his hand up to block any sudden swings in his direction. “Can I get up?”

Alyssa nodded her head before she turned away from him and dropped the tire iron to the ground. “Just tell why, dammit?” she whimpered. “Was I not enough?!”

“Not enough? NOT ENOUGH?!!” He quickly rose to his feet, twisted her around and brought her flush against his hard body. With tears in his eyes, he kissed the top of her head, his thick hands sunken into her lush, brown hair.  He was barely able to mutter a single word. He was visibly shaken and broken by her accusations and that she held those feelings about herself for so long.

With both hands now on the sides of her face, he tilted her head so that she was looking directly at him. “Alyssa!” he sobbed softly. “Don’t you dare ever say you aren’t enough for me … ever! You’re literally my whole world. In every single life, in any alternate universe … I choose you every single time. And you wanna know what I’ve been doing? Look!” He turned her around to face the house.

“This is what I’ve been doing all those months! I built it, with my bare hands, just for you, for your birthday. I wanted you to have a bigger home so you could get out of that small cabin and have the view and the yard you always dreamt of. I wasn’t cheating and I didn't forget your birthday.  I just wanted you to have everything you deserve”

Alyssa gave Drake a quizzical look. “But … you’re terrible at woodworking.”

Drake chuckled. “Maybe I love you enough I learned.”

Alyssa sunk to her knees, not to give a blow job, but realization and understanding of the last few months had set in. She stared up at the beautiful, two-story log cabin that had every bit of her husband’s heart and soul for her in it and wept. “Drake.” Her voice was raspy and full of guilt. “I’m so, so sorry.’

He crouched down behind her and wrapped his loving arms around Alyssa before placing a gentle nip at her ear. “You've nothing to be sorry for. I guess I gave you plenty of reasons to think that, but I was crunched for time and wanted to surprise you. Just hope you like it.”

“It’s magnificent … and it’s our home?”

“It's our home. Happy Birthday, Baby girl.”

Drake and Alyssa checked on Riley, who was still knocked out cold. After assisting her and giving her a moment to collect herself, Alyssa thanked her friend for all of her help and gave her the keys to the van to return home in.

Drake showed his wife around their new cabin, pointing out the lowered cabinets in the kitchen that would be easier for her to reach. He had built her a library where she could work from and read without the noise and chaos of a house full of children running around. She was thrilled over the balcony that sat just off their bedroom, overlooking the lake and featuring private jacuzzi tub where they could relax together and, of course, have sex in.

Drake took her outside and walked down to the lake, where he had  put a gazebo in overlooking the water and ushered her to the center of it. 

“Drake! This is amazing. How did you know I wanted this?”

He drew her closer to him and kissed the tip of her nose. “I know everything about you, Lyssa … there’s nothing I wouldn’t give you.”

She smiled up at him lovingly. “And I love you so much for it.”

He reached for one of her tiny hands, brought it to his chest, and wrapped his other arm around her back. With very little room between them, he kissed her lips tenderly. “Dance with me, Alyssa.”

Alyssa gave him a knowing look with a grin. “Drake Walker doesn’t like to dance.”

He began to sway with her to music that wasn’t there, but he felt it in his heart. “Drake Walker will always dance with his girl.” Kissing her once more, they began to slowly dance together and Alyssa had never felt more alive or loved in her life. He has that effect on her--always had and always will.

He spun her in a twirl and pulled her tiny body back into his own. “Ya know, Lyssa … when I first saw you, I saw love.”

Drake reached down and lifted the bottom of her sweatshirt over her head and tossed it on a nearby bench. He caressed her cheek and trailed a gentle line down her neck and across her shoulder. “And the first time you touched me, Baby Girl ...I felt love.”

His lips found that sweet spot just behind her ear before he whispered to her. “And after all this time ...”

Drake’s thumb grazed across her bottom lip before he stared into the blue eyes of his yesterday, today, and forever. “You’re still the one I love.”

What happens next? .......

[hansolmates]

vernon; the big kid league

a pokemon gen viii au

feat. researcher!Vernon x gym apprentice!reader

genre/warnings: this is pure word vomit. pokemon and svt fandom trash. ambiguous flirting, shameless wooloo fluff and squealing over nessa, former rival!Vernon x reader (also, hop is the best thing that has ever happened to me in poke!verse, next to my boi piplup)

word count: 1.1k

summary: former rivals-turned-friends-with-some-benefit are on vacay, reflecting on how old they are since their pokemon journey

“Wow,” Vernon whistled, tightening his grip on the leather strap of his backpack. “This place is huge.” 

Huge was an understatement. Thank goodness there was a rail system in place, otherwise you would’ve turned down Vernon’s summer vacation idea immediately. His idea of a summer vacation didn’t involve lazing around beach chairs and bottomless drinks. The vacation was a two-for-one: Vernon would be further extending his Dynamax research to bring back home, and you would get your last bit of freedom before you take over the Pastoria Gym. 

“This place,” you wheezed, holding onto the bannister of yet another tall building, “has way too many freakin’ stairs.” 

“Stairs have history, little lass,” a smooth, honeyed voice replied to you. 

“Holy shit,” you hear Vernon hiss excitedly, his attempt at a whisper sorely failing because you were still meters away from him. “It’s Nessa.” 

You felt your stomach do waves. The Nessa? Making small talk with you? Lowkey calling you a little girl, and yet you’re feeling like she’s given you the biggest compliment since landing in the Galar region? You can’t help but give a slight one-over, in awe over her beauty and reputation as their water-type gym leader. 

“Although, stairs do get a good daily workout outta ya.” Nessa added good-naturedly, rolling her shoulder. “You two trainers?” 

Vernon beat you to it, pointing proudly at you, “She’s in training under Wake to be the next water-type gym leader.” 

“Nice, a water girl like me.” Nessa nodded, and you squealed on the inside. “The lab coat gives away you’re a researcher,” she gestured to Vernon, who looked absolutely wired that a top gym leader was talking to the two of you. “Sonia’s in town, if you wanna get lunch with us.” The invite was so casual and mature, you couldn’t believe it. 

You agreed to the invite, you had a few hours to kill before you check in and you were both famished. As you followed Nessa and exchanged gym talk, you felt Vernon throw an arm around your shoulder, giving you a quick squeeze as if to say we’re totally adults now. 

- 

None of you spoke a word of it, but The Budew Drop Inn made you and Vernon feel terribly old. 

It astounded you as to how each region thought it was socially acceptable to let children roam around—you had a little hope for the Galar region, but nevertheless you were impressed by the enormity of their Gym Challenges. At least they offered the kids a place to stay, your mother surely would’ve felt safer knowing you were in a hotel with a Rotom Phone rather than a tent in the wild area. 

You watched Vernon from your cushioned spot at the lobby, waiting in line with much smaller individuals who were also waiting to get keys to their rooms. Vernon played with his Rotom Phone—new edition, perks to being an assistant professor, when you realized he had sent you a message. 

Quick, do I look like their dad next to these kids or an older brother? 

Stifling a giggle, you check him out. He caught your gaze, and you wiggled your eyebrows suggestively as you kicked your legs in the air. As per standard, he’s a glorified mess. The trip over was long and tiring, and he didn’t have time to change because he left directly from the lab. His bush of carmine hair was all over the place, his bangs overgrown and brushing the frame of his new prescription specs. (“Any more time on the computer and you’ll be as blind as a Zubat!” you joked the first time he got them.)  

You quickly typed up a reply, definitely a hot older brother.  

Vernon’s eyes immediately snapped up at the flirtatious comment. He stuck out his tongue, pink cheeks betraying him.  

Five minutes later, Vernon is flipping a keycard between his two fingers. 

“Couldn’t get two beds,” he said, “with the opening ceremony and all that, Motostoke’s completely booked.” 

“Who said we wanted two beds?” you half-joke, pulling yourself up by grabbing the collar of Vernon’s lab coat. 

He half-whispered your name in a warning, pulling you closer. You challenged his gaze with a teasing one of your own. “Careful, there are children here!” 

With a roll of your eyes, you plucked the keycard from his hand. “C’mon old man, I’m sure you’re very tired from your journey.” 

The hotel is certainly an upgrade from sleepless nights you spent as a kid in the middle of the forest. There are multiple memories of you and your party waiting for the sun to rise, hanging onto a Chimchar flame and a faraway dream of being the Champion. 

The room is warm and the mint sheets are soft. You’re flipping channels whereas Vernon finally abandoned the last of his research on the desk, slamming his laptop shut. 

“Sure beats a ratty old tent in the middle of nowhere,” Vernon exhaled, plopping himself on the bed so hard you bounce with it. 

“That ratty old tent taught you survival skills,” you quipped, and rested your head on his chest. You let the lull of his breathing echo in your ear. The hotel room was small and cosy, trapping you both in time. “You’d be eating microwave ramen right now if it weren’t for your adventure.” 

“It was our adventure,” he corrected, and pressed his lips to your hair, “and I still eat ramen, at least when you’re not home.” 

The ambiguity of your relationship had yet to be explored. That was okay, at least for now. While the two of you may not be children, you were certainly still young with wide futures ahead of you. The only difference was that your bike had upgraded to a car, and your backyard pond will one day be the Pastoria Gym. 

At the very least, the two of you weren’t sitting Psyducks. And you weren’t going at each other all the time like when you were rivals. Butterfrees float in your tummy as you felt Vernon snuggle closer to you. 

The stadium lights glowed through the crepe window, and crept through your room in anticipation for tomorrow’s festivities. Tomorrow would be the start of another adventure, together.

[flyswhumpcenter]

Bad Things Happen Bingo! The event where you send me requests according to this marvelous card! (Red cross is the completed prompt, character headshots are prompts I’ve already filled. Green deltas are for requested prompts.)

Choo choo, the Sickfic Express has just arrived in Galar, straight from Oreburgh City! 

First fic of 2020 is a sickfic oneshot. How rivetting. I've very recently beaten Pokémon Sword and loved it! I found myself really loving the characters, what they are and what they've already become in my mind, so I couldn't help myself but type what I know best... A sickfic. Also, this fandom needs more of this stuff, so here. I'm providing. Is this story OOC? Chances they are. Was it absolutely a blast to write? You bet. I'm probably gonna look back on it later down the lane and be uncomfortable with how I depicted the characters; but you do need to discover the characters first, and what better opportunity for that than a little sickfic with some angst and pre-rel dramatic tension? Anyway, I hope you'll like this lil' thing I busted out in literally a couple hours. I forgot how fun it was to write without worrying yourself over continuity or already established elements like in Earth Never Stops... Btw, this fic was originally requested to me as a FE3H fill for Hubert, so I decided I'd most likely use another square on my card for him. Sorry Nonnie for this, my inspiration got the best of me yet again! 

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Candles in the Rain

Summary: Is feverishly staggering through the damp streets of Hammerlocke under the rain with very little hope to feel warmth again and even less sense of direction a fitting end for a former Champion now that he's been defeated once? Scratch that: he doesn't have the time or brain power remaining to process such a question. Or: Leon witnesses a miracle in the form of a little dog and a childhood friend.

Fandom: Pokémon Sword and Shield (post-canon/game: beware for spoilers) Relationships: Pre-relationship Leon/Sonia

Wordcount: 3.1K words

Event hosted by @badthingshappenbingo​

AO3 version available here.

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The streets of Hammerlocke are covered by a thick layer of rainwater, typical early winter in Galar. Nobody dares going against the terrible weather, which isn’t unlike the flooding that almost ate Kabu’s region of origin, or rather how he once described it based on bedtime stories, a couple thousand years ago. Honestly, after what Galar just went through, he can believe the tale to have been real all along, no issue there…

As always, he’s lost in the grand city of his main rival, and that frustrates him. He’s cold from the water having filled his shoes and wet his hair for hours and hours on end, not even the fire of the camp being able to make him feel warmer. If it wasn’t for his partners’ demands, urging him to stop camping in the wilderness and find a Centre already, he’d have surely stayed in the Wild Area and biked to a better spot. Ah, he misses Postwick, now. At least, he can’t get lost in Postwick, there’d be Hop and his now-Champion best friend, if not Sonia paying them all a visit, and there’d be the warmth of his childhood home… Gods, perhaps he does miss the peaceful life of a ten-year-old whose only contact to the Gym Challenge is dreams of grandeur.

Ah, if it didn’t rain so badly, Charizard could be warming the both of them as he tried to make his way to the nearest Centre.

 Despite his best efforts to remain proud and confident, he ends up having to lean against a wall to stop a coughing fit from suddenly urging itself out of there. He must look pathetic and he does wish, deep down, that someone would get out of their house for a reason or another, recognize him like literally everybody in Galar; but his pride and brand would be on the line, and nobody is fighting against the terrible, terrible weather today. He’s all alone in the streets of the city, pushing himself from the wall with wobbly arms, trying his hardest to remember where to go with slow, hazy thoughts…

Even if he was cold merely moments before, his head now burns. He feels too hot under clothes that are wildly unfitting of such a muddy season, despite the hair rising on what is exposed of his arms. A Cramorant stole his jacket when he was training, a Linoone tried to steal his stuff, and he ended up having a Pokemon knocked out and losing most of his healing items in the kerfuffle. It really hasn’t been his day, lately…

 His chest hurts. Not from the outside, as if he had injured himself in one of the falls he endured trying to feel from the Wild Area with no Pokemon to battle with and the slippery grass constantly trying to get the best of him, but from the inside. He doesn’t doubt the possible existence of bruises under the shirt that sticks to his limbs like a second, drenched skin; but this isn’t it. It intensifies when he coughs and it rattles strangely. When he tries to ignore the excruciating weather wishing for his demise, he hears the strange sounds his breathing now makes. He doesn’t know them so, in a moment of out-of-character lack of reason, he gets scared of them and vaguely wonders about worst-case scenarios.

It isn’t just his chest either. It’s his throat, it’s his mouth, it’s his feet, it’s his legs. Everything in his body is tired and screaming for rest, but he cannot provide it for any of his own self at the moment, stuck trying to navigate with what little he can distinguish with almost-closed eyes from how much he has to squint. His eyes can’t focus anymore, this much he realizes with a bitter sense of resignation, so everything he sees is blurry, including the weird gooey stuff he keeps coughing out whenever he can’t breathe anymore and has to stop for who knows how long.

 He trips over his own unmade shoe tie, losing in one fell swoop what was left of his balance, and falls right into the rainwater that has accumulated on the ground. It sounds and looks and feels like it’s the end, that this is where his journey ends: in some damp street of a city that he has never been able to find his way in, alone, cold and hot at the same time, rain burying him with the rest of the pavement. Not that he even thinks he has the energy to go on… Not like that. Not when his strength, the only thing he thought he had left, has all but given up on him too. Truly alone in a time where, sitting against a giant wall, he realizes what has been going on and poisoning his breath. Hah, ironic.

Still, this isn’t how he should admit defeat. He’s been won over now, and recently at that, and it’d be more than a shame for him to all but give up now. He needs to bring his team to the Centre, he can’t not try taking his revenge on the new Champion, he can’t not at least prove his superior battle skills to Raihan yet again, he just can’t leave Hop, and Sonia, and everyone else like that…

So he rises up once again, on weak arms and unsteady legs, almost tripping over himself, shoulder stuck against the wall. He won’t let this be the end of him.

 Even with a new resolve, it still doesn’t make it much better for him. Unless there’s a miracle happening right before him, he’s stuck with his heavily weakened state trying to find a place whose location he has no idea. His phone doesn’t seem to be able to show a map, its signal disturbed after whatever happened to it while he was looking or doing the polar opposite, so he’s stuck with his truly inefficient sense of orientation.

But it’ll be okay. It’ll have to be okay, because he needs to see Hop become a Professor, to buy Sonia’s new book, to rematch the Champion and his Leader friends, to give his team at least one more chance to shine. It’ll be okay, surely it’ll be okay, of course it’ll be okay… It’ll be okay, because this is all a terrible nightmare he’s going to wake up from, where he isn’t stuck in the torrential rain with a fainted party and very little hope of finding way out.

It’ll be okay, oh so okay…

 He tumbles and falls over again, this time hitting the ground with no grace whatsoever, most likely scratching elbows and knees in the process. Even rising his head up as not to cough in water when a fit claws at his throat again takes most of the energy he has left, only for his blurry sight and cottoned-down hearing to spot the first good thing in who knows many hours: a familiar yelp and vague brown-and-yellow figure rushing towards him.

With a trembling and feeble hand, he tries reaching out to the Yamper who has guided him so many times out of dangerous situations, only for an oh so familiar voice to yell in his direction. Still, it’s hard to know if it’s real or just his imagination. Ah, well; he’ll have to see when he’ll have woken up. If he even wakes up from the darkness starting to invade his vision…

  “Yamper, where in the world are you running like that?!” This creature never stops running, doesn’t it? “Yamper, wait for me!”

If she’s used to her trusty furry assistant running around everywhere it goes and pursuing it, Sonia has to notice there’s something odd in the air. Yamper never goes this fast, especially not in a city where it could smash muzzle first into people. There’s an urgent feeling to its yelps as it runs in one precise direction.

 As suddenly as Yamper started running when she had just gone out of the vault to investigate a little bit more into the Galar mythos she had become a specialist of, it stops right in its tracks in a little street she’s frankly never seen nor noticed before. With how much it’s raining and how unlikely it is to stop pouring soon, she doesn’t want the both of them out for much longer than needed.

She stops to regain her breath, hands on her knees as she folds in two, wet red hair hanging from her head. Yamper stays in place, running around her in circles, then disappearing from her view into the old, little street covered in rain and shadows. It doesn’t seem to have any intent on leaving soon.

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“Why did you… bring me here…? Seriously, it’s raining Growlithes and Purrloins…!”

Still, Sonia gets herself together and goes on to follow her “assistant”. There’s dread building in her chest and stomach that she can hardly ignore… She’s seen enough movies as a teenager to know where this is going. She’s going to end up tangled into some messed-up situation, isn’t she…?

 Her heart skips a beat when she notices a very familiar person lying face down on the pavement, drenched to the bone. A person who hasn’t given her any response or sign of life for a few days.

Someone who’s gotten lost in Hammerlocke again.

 -------

 When he wakes up, everything feels different than the last time he’s been awake. It’s all white, dry and soft. He stills feels too hot and too cold, breathing remains a chore and he wishes he wasn’t there anyway; but he supposes he’s now safe and, honestly, he can’t think of anything much worse than treading through the torrential rain with little strength left.

Now, if he knew what the thing on his face was, he’d be doing a bit better, but his arms feel like they’re made out of lead and he lacks the energy to rise them to his mouth and at least touch it…

 “Leon?”

The voice, even if it’s muffled, is undoubtedly Sonia’s. He can’t quite put a finger on why exactly, yet he feels like this confirms something. If his chest didn’t feel so heavy and full, he’d have sighed in relief. That doesn’t prevent him from coughing again when trying to respond to his own name.

“Let me do the talking, okay? I’m sure you have a metric ton of questions to ask, but for the love of Galar, spare your voice unless necessary.”

 Now that his vision is focusing again, he notices both the pipe inserted in his wrist and the frown on her face. She seems less than content with something. What, he doesn’t quite know, and thinking hurts his head even further than it already bothers him, heavy on his neck despite resting on a pillow. Speaking of which, where is his stuff? His clothes?

“Hey, hey, hey,” Sonia rises from her chair and puts her hands on his chest, putting him back into his mattress. “You stay here and don’t cause anyone any worry more than you’ve already done!”

 He’s confused as to why she’s so adamant on him not doing anything. No speaking, no moving… If he didn’t feel this drained and lethargic, he’d absolutely get back at her with playfulness. Well, that does kind of answer his own question, doesn’t it? Or, at least, it seems to make sense to his brain which has troubles keeping up with the situation…

Yet, he sees a small smirk contrast with her frowned eyebrows. She seems… pained. Pained by what, or who, he doesn’t know; he’s most likely at least partially responsible for it, because she wouldn’t be there otherwise.

 “I don’t know how you’ve ended up in that situation exactly, Leon, but you’ve managed to surpass yourself in terms of putting yourself in harm’s way. You’ve scared us before, but not to that extent!”

“I…” His voice sounds hoarse and it absolutely feels that way. “It’s complicated…”

“Your entire party was fainted, safe for Charizard who was about to follow; you somehow bricked your phone in the process and ended up catching more than a death of cold. Where were you during all that time?!”

Sonia sounds a bit too scared for someone who’s facing her childhood friend stuck in a bed.

“The Wild Area…”

“That’d explain why you were soaked to the bone when I found you lying in a puddle… You’ll have to excuse me for using that crude language, you scared everyone on that one!”

 It’s his turn to ask a little question, even if the state of his body makes him want to remain quiet. Still, no matter how intelligent she is, Sonia doesn’t read minds, so he’s somewhat forced to go through with it if he wants his answers.

“Where are we?”

“A clinic in Hammerlocke. I forgot to add you also scared the ER staff with how bad your breathing was.” Has to be that irritating wheezing sound he’s hearing since he’s woken up. “By the way, since I know you’re going to ask me about that, your team is safe and doing much better now. They’re all gently resting in their balls while you recover.”

He misses Charizard and everyone else already. He owes them a big apology, that’s for sure, but he’s also certain his brain can’t process much right now. Sometimes, you just need to admit yourself to have been defeated… even if it bothers you to no end.

 Sonia paces around for a little bit before sitting down on the chair next to the bed, arms still crossed. She sounds more than frustrated, and, well… He can’t really hold it against her, can he? He already can barely hold anything against her to begin with, considering how much they’ve lived through together; it’s not today, in these circumstances, that he’ll try finding a reason for her not to be frustrated. Who knows how long he’s been gone without giving news: he frankly, forgot how quickly or slowly time was passing while he was wandering through the Wild Area.

“At least, you’re still here and breathing with us. Just, if you could not do that ever again, it’d be better, you know? I can’t always be there worrying after you when I’m now a Prof! Arceus, I don’t even imagine what sequence of events has thrown you into such a state. You looked absolutely pitiful when Yamper found you.”

 He tries to puff at himself to ease the tension he feels rising, but all he ends up doing is coughing. And coughing. And coughing.

“What did I say about sparing your voice? Tch, you’ll never change, will you? You’ve always stubborn, after all, so there’s no reason that’ll change now. That’s part of your charm, I suppose.” She shrugs before suddenly darting her eyes away from him. “But you’re right, I shouldn’t have to worry! You were the Champion of Galar for more than ten years, why would I be afraid of you? That makes very little sense, haha!”

“S-Sonia…”

 He only now spots the dark rings under her eyes and the hair pulling out of her ponytail, one strand at a time. How long was he out for, and for how much of that time was she there, exactly? (Hey, he does work fairly well, for someone who can’t stop sweating and whose entire frame is shaken up by chills at irregular intervals!). Too many questions, too little available brain space, he guesses…

“Go for it, make fun of your good old friend who still hasn’t gotten the memo. I should have been like Hop and blindly believed you’d come back to us, as you’ve always done…”

Oh, right, Hop! How is he doing, has he advanced in his research, does he still worry for him? Well, sadly, it’s not the time to think about his brother: his childhood friend seems to have a meltdown right in front of him.

“Why?”

 Sonia stares at him, completely silent, eyes wide. Seems like she doesn’t have an answer to her own interrogation, until pain comes back on her face like the wave crashing on the shore.

“You don’t… think it’s ridiculous?”

“What?” His throat doesn’t take kindly to his attempts at having a conversation.

“Everything! We swore we’d trust each other, but look at me, worrying over you as if we were still kids running in the fields with the Wooloos… And I’m telling you all that while you’re cooking on the inside! Really, isn’t that ridiculous?”

 Gathering his breath and his strength, he rises up with shaky arms against the bedhead, pillow still preventing his head from entirely lulling over his shoulder from how heavy it is. Whatever he’s caught, it’s one hell of an affliction he’s found himself with. Still, if it’s for Sonia, if she’s this distraught over the situation (he did almost pass away), he can put up with the migraine, the difficult breathing, the mask over his mouth, the lethargy, the chills…

“I’m sorry, Sonia.”

He does cough immediately after apologizing, as expected. For once, she doesn’t reply immediately, doesn’t make a witty remark; instead, she looks confused and maybe embarrassed, considering the red he can see with the eyes that still refuse to entirely focus for more than a few seconds.

“Sorry for what? And, again, spare your voice, you…”

“For all of this.”

 Her expression softens, eyebrows drooping and eyes shining brighter. Even if it’s slight and his eyes almost miss it, she finally smiles.

“How long…?” He’s interrupted by a fit.

“How long you’ve been out?” He nods, still trying to calm his chest down. “Around half a day. You did wake up at some point but immediately passed out again. No wonder why you don’t remember that.”

He now points at her with an unsteady finger. “Why are you… Oh, how long I’ve been here?” He nods again. “Most of that time, I’d say. I’d also say I fell asleep at some point too…”

 She crosses her arms again, just as his vision starts weakening again. It’s back to sleep, right?

“I think we both need our rest. I’m also certain Hop is waiting at the door, so you’ll even have a guardian angel watching over you, isn’t that super cool? And if you attempt rising from that bed, you’re sure to be put back into it in mere seconds!”

He’d try laughing if it didn’t trigger such a massive reaction from his lungs, so he decides to just nod instead.

“See you later, Leon. Goodnight.”

He waves at her, the lethargy still reflecting in his slow and sloppy gestures, but that’s fine enough for now. Her smile is worth it, isn’t it?

 Absolutely worth trekking through the rain with full lungs and little energy left…