#oh look hippo’s answering her asks

[hippolotamus]

🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝

Hello, Beeloved! Your sentences, plus a few extra 💖

“Thank you,” she whispers. “My brother would say differently, but I swear I’m not usually like this.”  “It’s part of our charm, I think, as brothers. To antagonize our sisters. I’m sure mine would be all too happy to commiserate with you there.” She smiles again, a real one that reaches her eyes, making them crinkle at the corners. Maybe it’s wrong of him but he’s glad he could do that. It gives him hope that this could work. That they could have a future together.  Maddie isn’t Shannon, but no one ever will be. He thinks that’s part of what his mother’s been trying to drive home. He’s also sure that’s exactly what his mother wants. Someone who isn’t his late wife. Someone who focuses on their needlework and creating a welcoming home. Someone too obedient and timid to stand up to Helena Diaz.  “Evan means well,” she assures him. “I don’t think I could have asked for a better little brother. He cares so much, and so deeply, even though he’s got countless reasons not to.”  Before Eddie can ask what that means, he notices the song nearing its end. There’s already a line of anxious suitors waiting for Maddie’s attention. He wants to get a final few words in while he can.  “I’m glad you have someone looking out for you. Just, um, one more thing, Maddie. Whether you’re normally ‘like this’ or not, I hope you are. Really. It means you’ve got heart. Something that seems a bit of a rarity these days.” She opens her mouth to answer, but she cuts herself off as she focuses her gaze over Eddie’s shoulder. “Evan?”  He hasn’t fully turned before he hears it. The voice he wants to belong to anyone else.  “You.”  Because why would the universe make anything simple or easy for him? Why wouldn’t the persnickety, protective younger brother be the same one who berated him in the conservatory gardens for reasons he still isn’t privy to? The man – Evan, apparently – moves swiftly to Maddie’s side, angling himself between her and Eddie.  “Evan, what are you-” “Maddie, it’s okay. My apologies that I wasn’t here sooner to protect you from this-" Evan sneers, looking him up and down. “It actually doesn’t matter what he is. The point is he’s not worth your consideration. Come on, let’s go.”  Eddie politely steps aside, clearing a path for them to retreat. While he doesn’t know what he did, he’s not going to be the source of any more agitation.

[plleeeepppyyyy]

Hi hi hi!!! If you're still doing requests, could you perhaps do Wally Darling and a reader that's always sleepy?

ofc ofc!!! very cute request! (⊃｡•́‿•̀｡)⊃

(also mind u,, this was not the first request i gotten,, i jus got this one finished quicker (ﾒ﹏ﾒ) )

wally + sleepy reader!!

☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎

⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂

•every time wally walks around you or sees you, he always sees you sleeping or on the verge of passing out. he finds it pretty amusing, don’t get him wrong he’s pretty worried about you sleeping almost every day. he’s definitely curious.

•he asks some of his friends first if they know why exactly it is why you do this, but they just assure him, “oh y/n is always sleepy!” that answer wasn’t good enough for him tho,,

•he finds you in the weirdest spots sleeping too, like this one time where you were just,,, laying on the ground while holding a plant. he watched you for a bit and just shook you up, he def walked you home as you were back on the verge of sleep.

•another time, you were gone for the WHOLE day, everyone was looking for you, poor julie was sobbing as if she lost her kid just already putting up posters of you,, but nope, howdy found you sleeping in one of the cabinets in his shop. how did you even get there?? you got a scolding for sure, how was that even comfy?

•wally took the opportunity to ask you a question, you were just laying your head on a table, again (for what seemed to be the millionth time) on the verge of hitting the hay. he asked you why exactly were you tired 24/7? he didn’t understand! it was just a silly concept to him, sleeping all of the time. even if he tried, he could never sleep with the house on his mind.

•you just simply replied, “why not?” wally hummed in fascination and watched you for the rest of the time you were about to sleep. but you were a bit talkative that day, so whatever came on your mind you talked about it to wally.

•after that wally admired how much you just didn’t care for much, you were just in your own little world.

•he DEFINITELY wanted to paint you too, you had no problem letting him. he just told you to sleep, definitely wasn’t an issue for you.

•he woke you up for,, maybe about a hour or two? and showed you an absolute masterpiece, you just sleeping. you loved it, and put it up on your wall. he still kept sketching and drawing you from time to time, i mean you were just still, a simple person to draw for sure!

•he also makes sure you don’t end up anywhere to crazy to sleep, its like he keeps tabs on you. its like if you were just walking somewhere, he just tugs on your hand and is like, “no, this way, silly!” he’s like a guide, making sure you don’t end up back into the river situation,,

•he totally wouldn’t mind if you laid your head on his shoulder; or anywhere on him honestly. he wouldn’t bat an eye if you leaned on him and just hit snooze. wally will continue talking to whoever, still making sure you’re fine. he’d rather have this than you accidentally sleeping on the roof or somewhere dangerous.

•wally finds himself giggling at the silliest things you do or say. like; why are you talking about hippos all of sudden? weren’t you just asleep?

•if he wants some quiet time to himself but not be completely alone. he def goes to you, maybe it’s because you’re sleepy but you’re just calm half of the time too. he also likes to ask you for suggestions on what to paint or draw next, you just mumble out the most random of things. you’re like a spinning wheel! to him at least,,

•you for sure were an interesting character in his book, so goofy. a good friend to despite you sleeping daily.

☁︎︎☁︎︎

romantic ver, ( ˘ ³˘)

•wally just adores you,, like why you so sleepy?? he finds it cute, you’re like a sleepy kitten 24/7. for some reason it makes him giggle to himself.

•definitely watches you 24/7, he doesn’t wanna let you go or leave you be. like before, he’s your guide to not falling in a brook. hell, he’ll even carry you around if you’re that tired. the neighbors look at you both and go, “oh look there goes wally and y/n!” as he just carries you around. :]

•theres always quiet moments between you two, you’re probably just snoring on his bed as he sketches,, well probably you. he always has some sort of art for you, pottery, paintings, whatever he can do, he did it for you.

•he’s also noticed how despite you being sleepy, you always try to make sure you talk to him. you’re just on the verge of sleeping yet again as you talk to him about this type of frog you saw early ago. wally really notices the little things. <3

•he gets all gushy and happy whenever you lean on him as a pillow or something. literally he just wants to grab you and just run away. but he keeps it in as he wraps his arm around you. even so, you can still notice the adoration in his eyes. a whole ass gentleman too, he WILL never move when ur sleeping on him. he shushes some people to, likee shhhh my boo is sleeping.

•to be honest, wally sleeps not so often, he definitely does more now that you help him. but whenever he just can’t close his eyes or anything, he watches you. and how peaceful you are, and he gets confused. how can you sleep so much? waking up to wally staring at you with those big old eyes is both scary yet endearing. you ask him what’s going on with him and hes just like, “you’re so peaceful, can’t help but keep this sight of you all to myself.” wit those big eyes,,

(≧◡≦) ♡

•ack,, okay so he for sure def whispers to you or something whenever you’re tired. he just perks his head to you and just whispers ever so softly, as if you’re already sleeping. even when you’re dead asleep he’ll whisper some stuff. if you’re lucky enough, you’ll probably hear him.

•SPEAKING of whispering and such, he def sings you asleep. as if it was hard enough for you to do so,, but still, legit you LOVE it when he sings to you. his voice is soo soft and listening to it is just, hhhhh, makes you malfunction at times.

•he still finds you at random places too, he quickly picks you up and just wakes you up. he’s all like, “oh, what are you doin here :)?” while ur kinda like ,, “hh”

•to him, you’re just admirable. even if ur sleeping in a not so fancy fashion, he admires how you sleep, even if you wake up all jus cruddy, he’s still looking at you with his big lovey dovey eyes.

•if you have any trouble trying to stay awake he helps you def, tries to at least. if you drink caffeine to help you out with it, he’s all for it. but makes sure you don’t over step it, can’t have his lover too hyper! he also tries to have you have a normal sleep schedule (if you want ofc) but if it doesn’t work than it’s perfectly fine,, you guys will find smth to help you out. ♡︎

•calls you snooze bug, literally he’s so corny at times but its cute . <3

•it’s just when it comes to you he’s so gentle wit you,, its very endearing to watch between you both.

•overall he loves you sm,, his sleepy little person. he’s patient with you all of the time, your sleepiness is part of the charm for him. wally wanted an excuse to carry you around anyway. ❤︎︎

____

okay this was rlly fun to do!! im prolly gonna do all of ur guys’ requests based on finishing it earlier than others if thats fine,, (٥⁀▽⁀ )

i also wanna thank all of you guys for giving me a LOTTA notes and positive feedback!! im glad ur all enjoying reading these as much i love making these,, 🫶

literally all of ur guys’ requests are so damn cute , can’t wait to have em all finished and have you guys read them!! (eventually)

ミ★

[feyhunter78]

Pink Pastels Pt 7

Description: You catch up with Gabi and Emma, Todd is an ass over text and the O'Haras give you a gift.

Pt 8

You were kneeling down on the wooden walkway, a fake bridge designed to imitate what the builder of the zoo thought the jungle villages of Africa looked like, talking quietly to Gabi and Emma.

“Girls I know you’re excited to see the hippos, but you can’t run away like that, what if either of you had gotten hurt? I was so worried about you two, and I’m sure your friends, and Mr. O’Hara, were as well.” You explain softly, holding one of their hands in one of yours, and keeping your expression calm to keep them calm.

“We’re sorry.” Gabi says, her bottom lip trembling slightly.

“We’re sorry, Ms. Y/N.” Emma begins to cry, fat tears rolling down her cheeks.

You coo at them and pull them into a hug. “It’s okay, you just have to be more careful next time.”

The sound of footsteps, four sets of small feet, and one larger set, the sound of which you’ve strangely come to recognize.

“Are they okay?” Miguel asks, his voice is rich with concern, and you feel him kneel beside you, his large hand resting on Gabi’s shoulder.

“Everyone is just fine, we just got a little overwhelmed, huh?” You direct the second half of your answer towards Gabi and Emma, who pull away and nod, sniffling a little.

“¿Estás bien, Mija? ¿Estás herida?” Miguel’s hands were cupping her face, thumbs smoothing over her tearstained cheeks. Trsl: Are you okay, are you hurt?

Gabi nodded her head. “Estoy bien, Papá.” Trsl: I'm okay/good, dad

He breathes a sigh of relief and presses a kiss to her cheek. “Never run off like that again, you know the hippos aren’t going anywhere.”

She nods again, but is still pouting, and the two of them together is an adorable sight.

You feel a pang of longing right as your phone buzzes in your back pocket. You release Emma and begin to guide the group towards the hippos, fighting the urge to throw your phone into the nearest exhibit.

Todd has been texting you all day. First to bitch at you for leaving him wasted in his apartment, three weeks ago, then for ignoring his calls the next day, then he was mad because you wouldn’t let him chaperone, even though, he didn’t actually want to go, and it wasn’t your fault, the school has rules.

He’s sent you a photo, the one the whole first grade took at the zoo’s entrance. The one you’d very quickly—offhandedly, uploaded to your social medias to mark the occasion.

Todd: I thought you said men weren’t allowed to chaperone? Was that just an excuse, so you could fuck somebody else without me knowing?

He had circled Miguel in the photo, like a crazy person.

Y/N: I said male non-family members are not allowed to chaperone, that’s a parent of one of my students. We are not having an affair, and I would never abandon my students to do something so inappropriate.

He always did this, always got so jealous of any guy who was around you for even a minute. It was exhausting.

He left you on read, and you bite your tongue, trying to keep calm as you slide your phone back in your pocket.

“Gabi told me it was your birthday a few weeks ago.” Miguel says casually.

Your stomach drops. “Oh yeah?”

“I feel bad, usually Gabi and I get her teachers flowers on their birthday, but I was out of town for work, so I guess we missed it.” He towers over you, but you don’t feel unsafe, in fact you feel strangely protected.

Miguel looks so good in that cheesy field trip T-shirt, it stretches across his chest, and clings to his arms in a mouthwatering way. He looks down at you, a sheepish smile on his face.

“We hoped maybe this would make up for it?” He hands you a daisy shaped pendant, it’s beautiful, and well-made.

“I—I can’t accept this; it looks way too expensive.” You try to give it back to him, but he shakes his head and closes your fingers around the pendant, his hand dwarfing yours.

“It wasn’t expensive at all. Gabi found the necklace when we visited one of the farmer’s markets in the city. Daisies are her favorite flower, and she wanted to get you a birthday gift…and I wanted to thank you for all you’ve done for her. I mean, it’s still the first half of the school year, and I’ve never seen her be so fond of a teacher…” His hand is still covering yours, and you’re frozen in place but basking in the praise.

“Well, it is beautiful, and if it’s not expensive then I can’t turn down a gift from one of my best students now, can I?” You joke lightly, your heart pounding in your chest.

Miguel releases your hand and motions for you to turn, sweeping your hair up with one large hand, the other clasping the necklace around your neck. “It would break her heart.” He breathes, his warm breath on your neck making you shiver.

You want him. Fuck, you want him bad.

“Can’t have that.” You whisper, breathless and resisting the urge to lean into his strong chest.

“Ms. Y/N, you’re wearing my gift!” Gabi notices so quickly, weirdly quickly, for a moment you wonder if they planned this.

“I am, it’s very pretty, thank you.” You finger the pendant, it is absolutely beautiful, maybe the nicest gift anyone’s ever given you, definitely better than anything Todd’s given you.

“Now you gotta promise me you’ll never take it off.” Gabi pleads, giving you those puppy dog eyes she does so well.

You pretend to think it over, then nod your head. “Alright, deal.”

She lets out a squeal of happiness and runs back to her friends.

“She’s so good at that.” You remark, turning back to Miguel.

“Good at what?” He asks, his eyes keep drifting back to the pendant, where it sits between your fingers as you absentmindedly toy with it.

“Those puppy dog eyes, it’s so hard to say no to her.” You feel a rush of boldness and drop the pendant. “Did she learn that from you?”

Miguel’s eyes shot up to yours. “Beg pardon?”

“The puppy dog eyes.” You smile at him, a carefully crafted carefree smile meant to make the receiver feel comfortable, to get them to let their guard down.

“Oh, no, no, she learned that all on her own.” He laughs, and the sound is like syrup, muddling your thoughts with a thick sugary sweetness.

You remember his words when you admire the necklace in the mirror, the day is done, you’ve showered, and now you’re getting ready for bed.

You’re not a vain person by any means, but you can’t help but admire how it shines against your skin, as you stand bare, fresh from the shower. It hangs a bit between your breasts, the metal is sturdy, and no matter what Miguel says it’s not cheap. There’s no fake metal smell, or green staining your skin.

You spend a little longer staring at it, running your fingers along the edge, feeling each petal’s edge. It wouldn’t hurt to keep it on, at least for a little while, until Gabi forgets all about it.

Tag list: @miggyoharaswife, @badbishsblog, @imisshim2much, @wanderlustingcastaway, @lynn-9703, @sleepyamaya, @erensbbg, @sweetea85, @ilovemiguelohara, @natthernandez, @stxrrielle, @ihateuguys, @jenniferdixon05207, @blep-23, @luvisaaxoxo, @minimari415, @emerald-09, @violet-19999, @kenchosaikuo, @groovycass, @youcantseem3, @lovefks, @nightshxdex, @dusstory, @aesniri, @munsonssecretblog, @kirke-is-my-name, @starbearieee, @chatoicboy, @act1839, @needsleep3000, @totally-not-georgia, @witchy-lizard

[dnightshade0]

Voltron: vampire lance trying to enjoy his blood.

I have this one Voltron AU where Lance ends up turning into a vampire and now has to adjust to his new life.

Important note: when this lance gets his blood, he gets it by catching wild animals, and carefully siphoning their blood through an IV into thermoses to drink later. without harming the animals. This lance has a bit of an issue when it comes to feeding. He doesn’t like the idea of killing for blood.

Lance is sitting on the couch in the common area drinking a thermos of blood when Keith walks in and sits down next to him.

Keith: hay, what cha drinking?

Lance: … um… blood?

Keith: no, I mean WHAT are you drinking?

Lance: … again BLOOD!

Keith: what life form did that blood come from?

Lance: ah, why didn’t you just ask that in the first place?

Keith: just answer the question.

Lance looks down at his blood, turning it in his hand and shrugging.

Lance: hm, meh idk some alien animal we caught back on the last planet we visited.

Keith: what did it look like?

Lance: idk some kind of weird purple hippo-like animal.

At this Keith gasps in anger.

Keith: WTF MAN?! HOW COULD YOU?

Lance: dude what’s your problem? Why are you getting so bent out of shape for?

Keith: HIPPOS ARE MY FAVORITE ANIMAL!

Lance: ok? And?

Keith: YOUR EATING MY FAVORITE ANIMAL!

Lance: omg are you serious right now?

Just then shiro and the others walk in, hearing all the commotion.

Shiro: hay, I heard shouting, what’s going on in here?

Lance: Keith is throwing a fit because I’m drinking his favorite animal!

Keith: HES DRINKING ALIEN HIPPO BLOOD!

Shiro looks so confused right now.

Shiro: … huh?

Pidge: only you two could create drama out of nothing.

Hunk: I don’t see what the big deal is. Lance has to eat too. And it’s not like he actually killed the animal to get its blood.

lance: THANK YOU HUNK!

Keith: still how would you feel if he drank the blood of something you liked? What if he drank the mice’s blood?

Pidge: Keith, the mice aren’t even large enough to serve as an hors d’oeuvre.

Keith: what about kaltenecker?! What if lance ate her?!

Lance: I would never drink kaltenecker Keith!

Keith: and why not?

Lance: cause she is like family! I’d never feed on family! And seriously Keith, I can’t just decide not to feed on everyone’s favorite animal. If I did that then I wouldn’t be able to drink blood from anything period.

Keith: so your saying it doesn’t matter what animal it is, you’d eat it regardless?

Lance: ok let me stop you right there. I may drink animal blood but I do still have my standards. There ARE animals I won’t drink.

Hunk: like what?

Lance: I draw the line at bug-like, cute adorable and babies.

Then Keith mumbles.

Keith: I bet you’d eat a baby hippo.

Lance: NO KEITH I WOULD NOT!

Keith: just you wait lance, someday the universe will exact karma upon you for eating a hippo!

Lance: for the love of god Keith! First off, it’s not an actual hippo! It LOOKED LIKE A HIPPO! Second, I didn’t eat it! I just had it donate a few pints of its blood and it went on its merry way! STILL ALIVE AND VERY MUCH NOT EATEN!

Allura walks in.

Allura: paladins! Get your armor on. We have a diplomatic mission on the planet kolslac. The kolslacians wish to join the voltron coalition and are requesting an audience with us.

Lance gives a sigh of relief.

Lance: OH THANK GOD! Saved by the princess!

Shiro: all right team! Let suit up and go meet these kolslacian diplomats.

(Later planetside)

Lance stood frozen in horror at the sight that awaited team voltron on the planet kolslac. The kolslacians as it turned out were a race of purple bipedal hippo-like aliens.

Lance was mortified.

Lance: (whispers) you gotta be kidding me!

Hunk: (whispers) dude, are you ok?

Lance: (whispers back) no I am NOT ok! I’m surrounded by a race of alien hippo people! This is Keith’s fault! He wished this! He asked the universe to punish me for drinking alien hippo blood and now I’m in hippo hell!

Hunk: buddy calm down! I don’t think the universe is really punishing you.

Lance: oh are you really gonna tell me that after the insane conversation we had about drinking alien hippo blood, that us coming to a planet of actual alien hippo people is just some random coincidence?!

Hunk: …um.. ok I’ll admit that is one hell of a coincidence and it surprises the heck out of me too but still, I really don’t think you’re in any danger here. These guys don’t even know that you drank alien hippo blood. So I think you’re safe.

Lance: yeah unless some mullet goes and rats me out to his new alien hippo buddies.

Hunk: I don’t think Keith would do that.

Lance: you sure about that?!

Hunk: …um…

Hunk then turns to Keith and taps him on the shoulder.

Hunk: (whispers) Keith you wouldn’t tell these kolslacians about Lance drinking “you know what” would you?

Keith looks at hunk then turns his gaze towards Lance and give him the most evil grin.

Lance: I am so dead…😰

Fortunately, the alliance talks go over smoothly without incident and surprisingly Keith says nothing to the kolslacians in regards to lance drinking alien hippo blood. Everyone goes home happy. But Lance, the poor guy. He suffered through the entire thing freaking out about if the kolslacians will want to roast him on a stake or chase after him with alien versions of torches and pitchforks. Or maybe even a mob trampling him to death with their big hippo looking feet.

When it was all over and team voltron returns to the castleship, Lance gives a huge sigh of relief. But as soon as he sees Keith walking in, he turns to him and shouts…

Lance: I HOPE YOUR FREAKIN HAPPY NOW! I’M NEVER DRINKING ALIEN HIPPO BLOOD AGAIN!!!

[olliethescribe]

Cabinet Man Hippoworm AU

I’m having intense brainrot so I’m combining two of my special interests (Lemon Demon and Hippoworm) into one AU - let’s trudge through my insanity together, shall we? (also, this is a human AU, everyone except the turtles are human)

Ron (Hypno) is a magician and he’s also been shown to be pretty good with technology, so it wouldn’t surprise me if there’s a version of himself that did the “ultimate” disappearing act and decided to turn himself into an unwinnable game. Why did he do this? Well, he tried out an actual magic spell he found and then things went sideways fast.

When Ron’s disappearing act is later reported as a death in the news, it’s of enough national interest for local newscaster Warren Stone to go out of his way to perform his own investigation. Soon enough, all of his leads run cold, leaving him at his wits end as he goes to his final site of interest, Albearto’s pizzeria.

Things are going just as poorly until the Hippo Crush arcade cabinet in the back draws him in, a nearly hypnotic pull that has captivated everyone else in line; children all waiting patiently for their turn. No one’s winning but no one’s complaining either. It’s an eerie silence only broken by sounds of 8-bit game play and the occasional button mash. And yet as Warren appears, the line parts, as if someone had pulled the kids aside with strings attached.

Warren reluctantly steps forward, the first step reluctant at least. The rest of the walk up is calm, his nervousness overridden by some unseen force. Compelled beyond his will.

So when he finally does get to the object of his complete attention, he blinks in surprise as the screen crackles and then flashes to life. Now filling his vision was the digitized version of the supposedly late Ron Pēwhairangi. Warren watches as Ron looks him up and down before winking.

There’s a moment of putting all the pieces together before Warren exclaims:

“Oh my god, you’re alive!”

Ron simply smiles back him, chuckling.

“And you’re as smart as you are handsome.”

___

More ideas for this AU include:

Ron’s digital avatar is a bipedal hippo when he’s not presenting as himself to Warren

Warren falls in love with Ron despite the whole arcade cabinet situation - Everyone is wondering why the fuck the local newscaster is bringing flowers to the Hippo Crush arcade cabinet

Warren and Ron go on a date after hours since the owner of the shop is absolutely gonna let this weird celebrity have a romance with his game that seemingly has a hold over people

Warren asking Ron how the hell his whole situation happened and getting a wild answer

The Purple Dragons break into the arcade one night to bust the machines for old tech and then they come across Ron and start destroying his cabinet

There’s gonna be a lot of traumatized teenagers

Warren enlists the help of Donatello to help fix Ron and things get fucky fast

Turns out a half-man half-machine is hard to fix

Oh, and April is working at Albearto’s the entire time and does her best to keep her job so she can keep spying on her favorite newscaster. She knows there’s something up with the Hippo Crush machine but never suspected that it was alive. The only knowledge she has about Ron comes from Leo who was incredibly upset that his favorite magician died a couple years prior.

[Feel free to contribute to this in the notes if you’d like! This is just a bunch of ideas. I rarely post about my AU ideas on here and mostly keep them on Discord in my son’s server. Decided to share this one here.]

Oh, and here’s the song that inspired all of this:

[devilsrecreation]

Pep Talk-A TLG fanfiction

The Pridelands felt unusually quiet. That’s how it seemed to Pua, at least. Though it felt different this time. He wasn’t basking on land or floating around in Lake Matope with his fellow crocodiles. He wasn’t even with his old hippo friend, Basi. He was alone and he wasn’t used to it.

It all happened so suddenly. What Pua thought was going to be another day of feeding his now former float turned into a mashindano between him and Makuu. Though he had much more experience and technique, he knew he wasn’t young anymore. Makuu was younger and more physically fit than he was. Despite using all of his tricks, Makuu was able to hold him down, forcing him to finally tap out and be banished from the float.

Now, it was just him.

Pua stopped when he got to an empty watering hole. He needed a drink, especially after what just happened. He faced his reflection and sighed somberly.

“Oh spirits,” he lamented to himself before taking a sip, “what do you suppose I do now that I’m on my own?”

“Hey, handsome.”

Pua’s head immediately rose upon hearing that voice. It was beautiful and so…familiar. He hadn’t heard it in so long—but no. It couldn’t be! That voice had left him long ago, yet he knew it anywhere. He found himself glancing at the clouds, being met with the head of a beautiful crocodile. Her skin was a slightly lighter shade of green and her snout was longer with brown spots at the tip. His jaw dropped.

“….Kuimba?”

The spirit grinned. Pua blinked.

“I must be hallucinating.” he said, “It can’t be you… can it?”

Kuimba took a moment to look at herself to the best of her ability. She nodded. “I think so. It’s wonderful to see you again, my love. Although, you look different. Were those wrinkles always there? You look….old.”

Pua returned the grin, chuckling a bit. That was his mate, alright. A tad ditzy, but she could still lift his spirits no matter how hard of a day he had. It was one of the many reasons why he had loved her so much. He quickly compiled all of his thoughts.

“It has been a while since you’ve completed your journey,” he answered. “Things have changed.”

Pua’s face fell upon saying those words. Kuimba took notice.

“Rough day, hm?”

Pua sighed. “You have no idea.”

“What’s bothering you?” Kuimba asked.

Pua took a deep breath. “Makuu challenged me to a mashindano.”

“Really?”

“He disagreed with my decision to not eat the fish in Basi’s watering hole. It was either that or I surrendered my leadership at that moment. I fought my best, but he was much stronger than he appeared to be.”

This time, it was Kuimba’s turn to be surprised.

“You mean you lost? My, that’s a first. You’ve never lost a mashindano before.”

“My strength isn’t what it used to be.” Pua replied. “It was inevitable.”

“Wasn’t Makuu the one that looked up to you?”

Pua did not expect his late mate to remember that, but it was true. He remembered it so clearly; how Makuu would always be right behind Pua whenever on a stroll when he was a hatchling, how he would copy his fighting style, how Pua took notice of it all and used to brag about himself to the other adults.

Yet it was so long ago.

Pua nodded. “He was. He’s all grown up now, as are the rest of the hatchlings.” Pua frowned, “I just wish I was a better role model back then. Perhaps his ego wouldn’t have been so big as it is now.”

Kuimba chuckled. “He reminds me of you!”

“Yes, he does.”

“Are you afraid Makuu wouldn’t be a good leader?”

“Of course not. I know he will eventually change his ways and come to respect the Circle of Life. I should know, I’ve been in the same position.” Pua said. He sighed. “But…that is not the problem.”

“Then what is?”

“Kuimba, I have been training my entire life to be a leader and I tried my absolute best to be a good one. It was my responsibility to do what was best for my float, no matter what happened. It’s been that way for a long time. But now that I have been banished, I…..”

Pua lowered his head sadly, averting his gaze from the spirit.

“I have nothing left to offer.”

Kuimba frowned. “Oh, Pua…but that’s just not true.”

Pua lifted his head again. “How so?”

“Well, think of it as a good thing. Now that you’re not a leader anymore, you have much more free time to do whatever you want. You can still spend some time with your old friends and even meet new ones.”

“Perhaps, but I still don’t see how I am of any use anymore.” Pua responded.

“Your wisdom, sweetheart.” Kuimba said. “You’ve lived a long life and plenty of experience to go with it. You can give others your advice whenever they need it.”

Pua thought for a moment, remembering everything that led him to where he was now. It was true, he had learned so much over the years. From all the sparring techniques he taught himself in his youth to lessons about the circle of life taught by his old friend and former ruler, Mufasa. He remembered using those lessons to teach Makuu and the other crocodiles. But would it be helpful to other animals as well? Would they even listen to him? He cocked a brow.

“Do you really think so?”

“Of course I do.” A gentle smile had formed on Kuimba’s face, matching her kind eyes. “Go, live your best life. You deserve it.”

That last line struck Pua harder than he thought. He thought about how he used to be as a young adult. He used to be so arrogant and cruel, caring only for his desires with no regard for the Circle of Life. That was until his first Kupatana as a new leader of the crocodiles when he learned his ways would not be acceptable if he were to keep his position. So many factors had turned him from an insufferable brute to the humble crocodile he is now.

One of those factors… was Kuimba.

How he had ever managed to win her heart was beyond him. She was absolutely perfect, from her natural beauty to her gorgeous singing voice to her kindness that made even the toughest creatures respect her. She had every reason to not be interested in him, yet she was. She was the one who taught him how there was more to life than fighting. How the land could be a beautiful place once he stopped and looked around. She got him to open his eyes. And now here she was, assuring him how he deserves to live the remaining years of his life in the best way possible.

Oh, how he loved her.

Kuimba once again took notice of Pua's demeanor. He had said nothing, only grinning warmly as his eyes began to get a bit moist. His eyes were focused only on her before she spoke up.

“Pua darling, what is it?”

“Nothing, it’s just…” Pua’s smile grew wider, “you look just as beautiful as the day I lost you.”

Kuimba giggled, “You still desire me after all this time?”

“Of course.” Pua replied, “You were the heart and soul of the float, after all. Life isn’t the same without you.”

“Really? You seemed to be doing just fine without me.”

“That does not mean I missed you any less.”

Kuimba’s smile flourished at those words. A sudden wind whistled in both crocodiles’ ears. She nodded submissively.

“It seems my time is up for now.”

“Your time?”

“As much as I’d love to, I can’t talk to you forever. I only came to give you advice.”

“I see,” Pua said, “will I ever see you again?”

“Whenever you need help, dearest. But I’ll always be watching over you.”

Pua smiled, “Until next time, my love…and thank you.”

Kuimba’s spirit faded within the clouds, leaving Pua alone again. Yet, he did not feel so lonely anymore. He was going to find a new place to call his territory, one fit just for him. He was going to help his former float in any way he could despite his banishment. His old life was behind him.

Now all he had to do was make a new one.

[almostsomewheremaybe]

The Situationship

It was never supposed to be like this. How much misery has been left bleeding upon that executioner’s block? It’s still true, though. When I first looked into her soft and dark eyes— soft and dark like midnight wolves— I should’ve known it would end in hatred. 

I had only gone over to my friend’s house that day to help them move. Every time a friend needs help moving, I’m one of the suckers who actually shows up. Carrying sofas, and Christian guilt in each of my arms. Praying that everyone keeps tally of all the good things I’ve ever done. I used to lie to myself about the kind of “good person” I was. Not anymore. Not after Rosalie and me’s situationship. I mean I was the kind of person who felt obligated to help our mutual friend move into his swanky new Hollywood studio, and she was the real no-bullshit type of New Yorker who made sure to show up only after the moving was done. She made every space she was in feel like a Bronx corner. She never cared if anyone thought she was a good person. I used to think that was a reason she wasn’t. One of her many character flaws I was sure proved she was the goddamn devil. But they weren’t sins. They were wings. Now, I sit in Hell envying her for the ways she could fly. 

It’s been four years since our situationship ended. I ignored what happened for a while, but these days it’s a ritual to remember. A destination resort of honeymooning nostalgia and vacationing hypotheticals. All the forgotten gray empty spaces have become prime real estate for overthinking developers. It wasn’t that bad was it? I ask myself that constantly. I mean we had great sex. All the time. All over the place. Wherever we failed each other, we didn’t there. Our carnal chemistry just synced. I suppose that was one of the problems, though. We exhausted our intimacy in clawing sheets and biting skin and raising heart rates and there I go again. Maybe we let great sex take the fall for all the ways we lied to each other. Cause we lied to each other. Rosalie had wings but she was no angel. She liked to cuss and argue at high volumes. The cussing was poetry and the arguing was jazz. The shouting was her saxophone solo. I know this because my family goes way back in New York as well. The people from there are just not normal. They make audible conflict an artistic affair. On our first date she told me she had family in Queens. Always the dumbass I replied, Oh like Aunt May? She laughed at me in my fucking face. I felt moronic and appreciated at the same time. She smiled in city blocks, and her eyes gleamed when she saw I could take it. That was the spark in the beginning. It was probably the same spark that eventually burned it all down. On our second date, I surprised her by taking her to an escape room. She was four years older than me. Stunning. Talented. Cutting like the rim of a can you weren’t careful with. Accomplished. Her career was taking off. I was nobody with not a penny to my name, but I still paid for her. I wanted so badly for her to see me the way I saw her. We do that don’t we? Overestimate the importance of symmetrical perspectives. She loved the date, though. It had been a while since someone brought a little fun into her life. I had done whirlwind romances, tragic love stories, friends to lovers, and so had she. I wanted love to be easy this time. I thought this would be the perfect start to a perfect story. Predictably, expectations melted giving way to miserable reality. In every room we questioned each other more than we found answers to their riddles. She yelled, Why don’t you listen to me? I listened to you about the headless dolls in the nursery! Okay, so listen to me again. You fucking men. You do it right once, and then you think you can start fucking around. That’s your problem. We probably wasted twenty minutes like this. It was cute then. Courting like that. A baby hippo is cute until it grows up big enough to crush you with its bite. We finally got to the last room, and a worker came over the speaker to give us a ten second countdown before our time ran out. The pressure made diamonds, and we hit a buzzer beater to win. It was so close that the worker entered the room to tell us we lost, and we told them that, actually, we had won. That tension between winning and losing was something we never escaped. That night we opened our ribs, uncaged the butterflies in our stomachs, and left them behind. We didn’t go on too many “real” dates after that. 

It’s interesting to me how a situationship is born. I had never been in one before Rosalie. She’d probably tell you most of her relationships were with men who treated them little different than what is considered a situationship. She’d probably be right, and I’d be indicted in that RICO case, but the fact remains— I had never done this before her. The only people I knew who had gone to Aspen to ski down the slippery situation-slopes, hadn’t done it like me and her. They were casually fucking, or friends with benefits who caught feelings. In the beginning we dated. Legitimately. The UN voted unanimously to approve us and everything. We dressed up for lunches. We talked trauma and fears under canopies of bed sheet. We exhaled childhood dreams across horizons of skin. All of that. But after two glorious weeks it was over. It became glaringly obvious we wouldn’t work. And then, by the sheer power of its own initial momentum,  it kept going…

But we called it off? Not once or twice. Probably like six or seven times altogether. Exclusively. Mutually. Privately. Those slippery slopes gave way to an avalanche of ambiguity. Our situationship was like Michael Meyers. You couldn’t kill it no matter what you did. 

If we had this supernatural spark between us, how come we didn’t prevail? For starters she was in Culver City and I was in the Valley. Her star was rising, and mine was plummeting to the ocean floor like the Titanic after medical icebergs began to rip me apart. (We’ll get into that later.) I moved into a shanty town studio just to be closer to her. Hoping it might help. We talked about our issues, and she made me listen. I sent her poems explaining how I felt. We tried. We really tried. And the contempt and distance between us grew up, married, and birthed a generation of resentment and distrust a thousand therapists couldn’t fix. But we stayed, together? The sex was still sexing. I still loved the smell of her hair in the morning. Taking walks with her dog and eating Ramen at our favorite spot on Melrose. She was still kind too. She would come over to my shit apartment, and sit with me in a sweltering unconditioned room, just so she could tell me things like,

You could be more confident. You shouldn’t count yourself out. And I would say, You shouldn’t either. You’re so smart. Creative. Hardworking. You give so much. Let me give you something. And I would try. I took her to see her first billboard on Sunset. She took me to get a new cellphone. We gave each other a lot of substitutions for trust, but your heart knows the difference between love and sweet gestures. Prior to being with me she had just left a seven year relationship. The fear of wasting her time was a bad omen marked upon my reason. A sleep paralysis demon that visited me every time I wanted to text her goodnight. Don’t send the wrong message. Don’t be too invasive. Don’t lead her on. The less she thinks of you, the less room there can be for disappointment. Now I told you early on that we lied to each other, and this was my untruth. I wasn’t hiding because I didn’t want to hurt her. I was hiding so someone else could do it first. Someone who could trump me as a greater evil, so I could obscure my own culpability and cowardice for not stepping up to the task of deserving her. I didn’t know it then, but the shame of it came later, and visits me often as I try to sleep alone in my dark room. She lied too, you know. I told you, yes, she had wings, but she was no angel. She was tough. Really tough. And really scared too. In the beginning when things started to unravel, she went and got with someone else out of spite. I didn’t hold it against her. We weren’t together. It was just a… situationship? Was there where it began? Either way it hurt. It hurt because I knew she wanted it to. Would she do it again? I was never the same after. She would repeat ad nauseam that she wasn’t looking for anything serious or long term. But she never meant it. She knew this untruth hurt so she stabbed me with it. Over and over. She’d made me feel so disposable. She’d toss me to the side, and text me six hours later to keep things going. She was so scared that I was another in a long line of many who had come to manipulate her, that she decided to be ahead of the curve this time. She’d use the oppressor's tools against him. It was fair. Rational. But it just wasn’t true. We never said I love you. We never really had a relationship. Like she said,

I told you I don’t want anything serious. But she was lying. She loved me, and I loved her too. That’s why it kept going. Even through the quarantine. We could lie and say it was hard to end because it was so intoxicating, but it was hard to say goodbye because we had a million unsaid I love you’s stuck in our throats— choking us. I love you was when we laid together in the shower listening to High School Musical, which I loved, or when she was sick and I’d rush over with chicken soup from the Mexican spot, she loved, or that Valentines day. 

We approached Valentines Day not as friends, or romantic partners, but as two people trapped somewhere between maybes and almosts. I had found this restaurant that cooked her favorite cuisine, but the closest one was in San Diego. Valentine’s Day arrived, and I don’t know... She was so sweet. So deserving. Even as her situationship, I couldn’t let her go uncherished on this special day. So we drove down that evening. On the car ride we played In the Heights, taking turns as different characters, and singing our hearts out. We had never been so kind to each other. No one was trying or not trying. We just shared the space like so many colorful flowers in a garden. Everyone could be beautiful and loved. The food was bomb, and the night was fun. But it was the car ride to San Diego where we were soft and everyday-kind and fell in love. 

We endured the quarantine as best we could. Towards the end of our thing I stopped the sex. I had this pipe dream that we could become just friends. One of my latest and greatest stupid ideas. I didn’t want us to lose each other. She knew it was already happening. When the riots in LA over George Floyd began I was out every night and day in the thick of it. She was worried about me, about my health and safety. My ankle had been bad for a while, and I should’ve seen a doctor, but the cause had called me into the streets. She looked sad every time I told her what was happening outside. The last day we spoke we were on FaceTime. I had to cut the conversation short, so I could get back out to the protests. Before I hung up I saw her face change. She had this strange somberness draped over her like a wedding veil. I told her I was sorry that I had to go. I had told her a billion sorry’s by that point, and had brought too few into union with changed behavior. She texted me after I got off the phone. She said, 

Ur a bit of jerk I think

I immediately called her and got no answer. Something felt different. I texted her back, how

And that was it. 

We never spoke again. I could tell she had broken free from this situationship prison. She was probably halfway to Cuba by now. It would’ve been wrong to fight for her back into this bullshit. It would’ve been wrong to tell her how much I missed her. Prayed for her. Thought about her every time I heard the music of two people arguing. I knew for her, freedom would require months of healing. If I really loved her, if we really ever had any love, now was the time to prove it. By letting it go. Shortly after, the doctor’s finally found my tumor. Originally I had a false positive for Leishmaniasis. I had passed out once coming out of the shower, and she had caught me before I hit the floor. No one had ever caught me before. Who was going to save me now? Chondroblastoma with secondary aneurysmal bone cysts in my left talas bone. That was the diagnosis. I never recovered. Not after three surgeries. I can barely walk today. Sometimes, I’m grateful she left when she did. This would have hurt her too much. Once in a while I check her instagram, and she seems really happy. I hope it’s true. I hope she stopped lying after our situationship. I know I did. We all have so much pain, and its truth will be heard, or its lies will be a reckoning. 

So what’s so different about that situationship you can’t seem to forget? Like mine with Rosalie. 

Was it the fact that when something is almost something, you can imagine it as you whatever you want it to be? Did it give us the space to see ourselves as full of possibilities? Digging deeper than conventions and traditions. I hope that’s how we saw it. When a situationship “ends” it’s not marked by anything except the paradox that maybe it never really even started. That somehow its shadowy form meant it wasn’t real, and didn’t matter. It doesn’t feel like that, though. We both left each other so often, I lost track of who really killed this thing, or why it hurt so much. Why did it hurt so much? When she first found out I was only twenty six, she told me,

I wish you were older. You have so much exploring to do. I’m now the age she was when we dated, and I have explored hospitals, and medical debt, and poverty, and disability, and I’ve never been able to give anyone what I gave to her. I don’t think I want to. I don’t think I ever will. But I want this situationship to be real, so the way she changed me can be too. I don’t lie so much now, not so that I can be a “good” person, but so that no one else gets hurt. Myself included. I want this experience to stick like a fridge magnet I’m not ashamed of, not hardened gum hidden beneath a school desk. 

The situationship, for us, was those first few glances we shared in our friend’s new apartment the day we met. They were unspoken. They lingered just a little too long. Those glances could’ve been just that, except they demanded for more, and though their revolution failed, I venerate our situationship as a most noble attempt to honor love in a vast and terrible world. I still see her wolf eyes in the dark of my room. Still hear what we lost, howling in the night-wind. 

She once said,  In New York, to say you hate someone, means you actually love them. But only in New York. 

So today, like any good paisan, I find myself smack dab on Arthur Avenue, just so I can say that I hate what the situationship did to us. I hate the roles we played in it. I hate what we did to each other as crabs escaping a barrel. I hate that we built that beautiful barrel. I hate how those memories descend upon me like harpies visiting Prometheus. I hate how I look up at an empty sky, and still anticipate you flying into view. I hate that you’ve flown so high, you can’t see me, down here, so low. I hate that we met. I hate that I’m not sorry we met. I hate our situationship. I hate all of it. I hate you. 

[choicesmc]

For Rin, Rams, and Fiona:

13 for Appearance

17 for Objects

3 for Food

19 for Weather and Nature

18 for Community and Relationships

13 for Mind, Body, and Soul

4 for Hobbies and Activities

thank you for including rams and rin!! really fun answering asks for them!!

13. What is something your character would refuse to wear?

RAMS - Dark academia. Just looking at it makes him tired. All the plaids and browns and blacks and beiges —it’s just sad. If this makes sense: dark academia comes with a certain personality accessory, you know the insular academic with niche interests in literature etc. The way Rams sees it, if he wears dark academia then he’s gotta adopt the dark academia personality and it’ll drag down his regular personality. 

FIONA - Fiona’s pretty open to everything… just as long as he can put he bought it. No offense to his friends but Gigi is the only person he really trusts to pick out clothes for him. As in, anyone can recommend clothes to him (since that leaves the final choosing up to Fiona)but actually buying and gifting him clothes gets under his skin especially if it’s something he wouldn’t wear. 

RIN - Beige khaki shorts and cheetah print/animal print. It makes her look tacky, at least in her opinion. She does not have the charisma or the confidence to pull off those looks at all. Not that she’s interested in it in the first place but it’d be a limitation even if she wanted to.

17. What is most important to your character when shopping?

RAMS - Comfort+Aesthetic, hands down. Co wants to enjoy using whatever co’s buying. Plus, cos room has a very inviting cozy feel so co wouldn’t want to contradict those vibes (assuming whatever co’s buying is for cos room). 

RIN - Price/Quality ratio. She’s pretty budget conscious with her money but still wants all the best stuff. Which results in her being a really great shopper, she does her research beforehand so she knows exactly what she’s getting and at what price and if the quality’s alright. She’s the type of person who knows the price of stuff at all the nearby stores off the top of her head.

FIONA - The Vibes. Money isn’t really a problem anymore so everything is on a vibes-with-it-basis. Sure, actual use is important but vibes trump that. 

9. Is there a food or drink your character is unwilling to try?

No. For all of ‘em. Anything and everything is worth ONE try minimum. 

19. What animal would your character say best represents them?

Will not lie, I haven’t really thought about this. So this is subject to change but for now this is what I think! 

RIN: “Something pretty dangerous, but doesn’t just attack without reason. Probably a hippo.” (Accurate)

RAMS: “A ferret? Maybe? Friendly and slippery? I think?” (inaccurate: rams is more like an alpine ibex)

FIONA: “Oh, easy. A swan. Striking, elegant, and looks pretty in most colors.” (accurate enough) 

18. What is your character's favorite form of affection?

FIONA - Gifts + Words of Affection 

RAMS - Physical touch + Quality Time

RIN - Acts of Service + Quality Time 

13. How does your character relax? 

RIN - ultimate relaxation technique? Amusement park rides! But that’s not something she can do everyday or easily so… bungee jumping, horror movies, anything that makes her adrenaline spike 

FIONA - If he needs to relax right after work then he’s heading to the roller rink! If he’s at home, then toss on a podcast and knit some sweaters!  

RAMS - 1) Music + 2) Friends + 3) Quietly Spending Time together = A happy and relaxed Rams. Rams can very much be the ‘cat’ of the group. Literally just lounging around on everyone. It’s great, it’s fun.  

4. Is there an activity your character used to enjoy that they now dislike?

RAMS - Academics in general? He used to be super into school, doing assignments, and talking to to teachers/making friends at school. But crashed and burned during high school and he still loves learning just... not school. 

RIN -Not really? She didn’t do much as a kid so most of the stuff she did she still enjoys in mostly unchanged form. 

FIONA - Speeches… He is a pretty good orator and used to take huge pride in it because it made his parents super happy. They took any chance to have him speak in front of people especially through church service youth days when he’d pastor 😬 Now it’s… a thing he can do. 

[whisker-biscuit]

The Lines We Cross: Chapter 26

A Strange Reunion

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Have you ever been in love? Horrible, isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up.

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Murray had no idea what time it was when his phone startled him awake. He rubbed his eyes and sat up, hand reaching blindly for the thing that was blaring like a siren on his nightstand. Squinting at a number he didn’t recognize, the hippo silenced the call before laying it back down, then rolled over towards the wall in the hopes of falling back asleep quickly.

No such luck. After barely twenty seconds of blessed quiet, the phone lit up again just as obnoxiously loud as the first time. Murray groaned in irritation as he realized that this was still that same strange number and they weren’t going to go away any time soon. What kind of telemarketers called multiple times in the middle of the night?

The most stubborn ones, apparently.

Against his better judgment, the hippo answered it with a groggy “hello?”

“I need to talk to your coworker right now.”

“Whuh…” He sat up with a frown. That voice was vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t for the life of him place it. “I’m sorry, what? Who are you?”

“It’s Sly – the, the raccoon with Inspector Fox. You gave me your phone number, remember?”

It took a few moments for him to remember the quiet guy who had come in with Miss Fox several weeks back. He sounded impatient and stressed, and that made Murray sit up in bed just as much as recognizing the caller did.

“Oh, uh, yeah, hi Sly, it’s good to hear from you? Why are you calling in the middle of the night?”

“It’s not night where I’m at right now,” Sly said, still impatient although now he seemed a little apologetic about waking him up. “Look, I need to talk to your coworker. Do you have his number so I can call him?”

“Uh…”

The hippo glanced at his shut bedroom door. He and Bentley were roommates, and it was more than likely that the turtle was still awake and working, but he wasn’t sure whether it was a good idea to tell this stranger. Everyone always told him he was too trusting for his own good, and that it wasn’t polite to share personal information about other people without asking them first.

“…Why do you want to talk to him, exactly?”

Sly let out a loud, frustrated huff. “It’s really important. I need – I – it’s – Inspector Fox and I were working on a case together, but she’s in danger. I can’t help her without your friend’s help.”

Murray’s eyes went wide. He clutched the phone closer to his face. “Wait, Miss Fox is in trouble? Is she okay? What happened?”

“I don’t know if she’s okay.” The stress in the raccoon’s voice was even stronger now. “I can’t tell you what happened, but the more time I waste, the more likely it is that she’s – that I can’t help her. So I need to talk to Bentley. Please, Murray.”

He bit his lip and began making his way to the door. “Okay, um…hang on just one second, okay?”

Sly made another noise, like he was being strangled, and that got the hippo moving even faster. If it was true that Miss Fox was in danger and only Bentley could help, then he couldn’t waste any time!

He headed down the hall to his roommate’s room and was relieved to see light filtering through the crack under the door. When he knocked, he heard Bentley jump in his chair.

“Murray?” The turtle asked as he opened the door to squint at him. There were large bags under his eyes beneath his glasses and he looked like he hadn’t even tried to go to bed the whole night. “What are you doing up this late?”

There would be time to scold him for not sleeping later, after they dealt with whatever scary thing Miss Fox and her friend were involved in. He shoved his phone into Bentley’s hands, making him blink rapidly in surprise.

“That raccoon guy who was with Miss Fox just called me,” Murray told him as fast as he could. “He said she’s in danger and he needs your help! You gotta help him, Bentley!”

“I – wha – hold on…” He put the phone to his ear. “Hello? This is Bentley. Why did you call Murray in the middle of – what?”

The hippo watched, anxious, as his friend’s expression changed from confusion to shock to concern in seconds.

“Well, that’s awful, but I don’t know how I’m supposed to…her tech? You’ll have to be more specific; I don’t even know what you have – okay. Uh huh. Shock pistol and a…a jetpack? What model? You need to find the serial number! It – yeah, it should be somewhere on there.”

Murray twiddled his thumbs while Bentley began talking about special technology and how to use them and other things that just went completely over his head. He tried very hard not to shuffle in place, afraid that it might distract him.

“…Okay, that covers everything, I think,” the turtle finally said after several minutes of back-and-forth. “Are we finished? Cause I’d really like to go back to bed. I know you’re worried about Inspector Fox, but I’m sure you’ll be able to – pardon?”

He got quiet very suddenly, eyes growing wider and wider over whatever Sly was saying.

“You want to make a – hang on, hang on, I need to –”

With one quick, nervous glance at his roommate, Bentley turned around to disappear back into his room, still on the phone. His door slammed shut before Murray could join him. The hippo stood there in shock for a minute, unsure if he should follow or not, before deciding that his friend had closed the door for a reason and probably wanted some privacy.

Why he wanted privacy was a mystery, but there were a lot of things the turtle did that were mysteries to Murray.

Almost half an hour later, Bentley finally came out of his room. He trudged over to the tiny kitchen where the hippo had started making a midnight snack while he waited, and gave the cellphone back with a glazed look in his eye.

“Uh, Bentley? Everything okay?”

“I sincerely hope that was a trusted coworker of Inspector Fox,” he said, slow and anxious, “because if he isn’t, I might have just done something incredibly illegal.”

Murray gasped. “You mean he might have stolen her stuff and you just helped him figure out how it all works?”

“No. Well, yes, but also…”

Bentley gulped.

“…I just helped him build a bomb.”

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Sly watched the Panda King turn his back and leave the medical room without looking even the slightest bit upset, despite the fact he had just dropped a bomb on the raccoon’s life and destroyed it in a single instant. He should have known not to trust one of the people who had attacked his home and killed his family, who had helped kidnap him, but after all these years, he’d thought – he’d hoped – that things had changed. He’d really thought that the panda would protect him when it came down to it.

He should have known better. He should have known that the Panda King was just as much of a monster as –

“You cry over false hope.”

The kit froze with tears still streaming down his face.

He had not forgotten who had perched in the far corner during that fight, but that presence had not felt like the most pressing threat while he had been pleading with King to delay his fate. Now, as his wide eyes slid from the door to the yellow gaze burning straight through him, he felt very stupid for ever thinking otherwise.

“The Panda King was never interested in your wellbeing, and you are foolish to have ever believed otherwise,” Clockwerk continued. He had not moved a metallic muscle from his spot since speaking. “There are no allies for you here. Even his daughter, who you thought cared for you, has turned her back on you. She was the one who told me that you had fled. She is the reason you were caught.”

Sly didn’t dare protest; he didn’t even think of doing so. This creature had always cut to his core by speaking only the truth. He had taken great pleasure in it on the night he had told the raccoon that he belonged to the Fiendish Five, long before he fully understood what that meant. Even now he could feel it – under the hatred still radiating off of his metal shell, the monster bird was delighted that the few people Sly had cared for in this nightmare had betrayed him.

He took a deep shuddering breath and did his best to remain perfectly still. His chest ached horribly under its bandages. The owl studied him in silence for several agonizing seconds.

“Our conversation from here out does not leave this room.”

It was a statement, not a command, and the boy swallowed alongside a stiff, terrified nod. Seemingly satisfied by the agreement, Clockwerk stepped forward until he was standing at the foot of Sly’s bed. He had to hunch heavily forward, too big for the room’s ceiling; it made him loom even more over the tiny, trapped subject of his attention.

“As the Panda King said, you will join the rest of my team in their criminal exploits beginning next week. The consequences have already been laid out for if you refuse, or attempt escape again. These parameters will always remain in place.”

The raccoon didn’t close his eyes in despair like he wanted to. He continued to stare at the monster, paying attention for all he was worth.

“It is clear how much you despise us. You would run from us again if given the chance. The only reason you will not is that as much as you hate working for those who killed your parents, you fear death and pain even more.”

Clockwerk leaned down until his beak was an inch from Sly’s face. Now, there was nothing but hatred in those terrible eyes.

“Make no mistake, Sly Cooper: your survival from my attack was deliberate. I could have killed you as I did your father, and no one – not the Panda King, not the rest of the Fiendish Five, not anyone – would have dared to stop me. You despise all of us, but it is nothing compared to the loathing I have for you. Your name, your blood, your heritage, everything. You live by my word alone, and you will die by my claws. Sooner or later, you will become bold enough to retaliate against the others, or think you are capable enough to slip out of their grasp. And even if it is neither of these things, you are not infallible. You will eventually outgrow your usefulness to my team. They will tire of your presence, and they will ask me to relieve them of the burden that you are. It is not a prediction; it is a fact.”

The child could feel his breaths coming out faster, shallower, but it was as though all his panic was locked deep in his body as he stared into that yellow gaze while the owl told him exactly what his fate would be. He couldn’t flee, he couldn’t speak, he couldn’t even blink as the words sank into his brain and his heart. All he could do was clutch the blanket in his lap for all it was worth, waiting for things to end.

Finally, miraculously, Clockwerk pulled away, giving just enough space for Sly to feel in control of himself again. He let out one single, quiet choked sob, trying desperately to keep his body from falling apart for how much it had started shaking. Never once, though, did he take his eyes off of the threat still standing before him.

“There is one exception to this outcome, however.” The monster shifted so that he could lift one of his clawed feet into the air. Sly’s eyes locked onto the Cooper cane he was holding. “I told you, five years ago, that we would see how well you would measure up to your father. The Fiendish Five all believe that this referred to how useful you would be to them as a criminal, but that is not my true intent. Only you will have that knowledge. You have made yourself known as a Cooper, now, and thus you have earned my utmost honesty. Do not take it for granted.”

The raccoon gave another stilted nod, unsure if he was even supposed to respond but not willing to risk it.

“You see, I play a very different game than the rest of them. When we stole the Thievius Raccoonus, they saw it only as a means to an end; they have been using the book as a mere tool without understanding what it truly does. It does not simply give you a better way to achieve your criminal goals, but instead makes you a better criminal. The fools in your bloodline have flaunted this book of secrets, of betterment, for centuries upon centuries with no struggles in their lives. They inherited it through the ages, as if not thieves but kings, until this chain of arrogance and ego was finally broken with your very existence.”

Clockwerk placed the cane on the bed in front of Sly. He leaned forward again, scrutinizing the boy as if daring him to take it. The kit didn’t move.

“Let’s make a deal, Sly Cooper. You and I,” the owl said. His tone was unreadable. “I want to see what becomes of a Cooper who is forced to rely on his own raw talent instead of the Thievius Raccoonus. I want to see if you can keep up with the Fiendish Five, but more than that, I want to see if you can surpass them. I want to see if you can prove that a Cooper is worth more than the falsehoods and thievery that they are known for.”

He tilted his head, and the expectation was clear. Sly Cooper picked up the cane.

“I want you to steal back your Thievius Raccoonus from every member of my team. If you are caught in your attempts to do this, it will be treated as a betrayal, and we will kill you. However, if you succeed in restoring the book completely…you will be free. Free of the life you are living, and free of the name that you carry. Do you accept these terms?”

The very idea of freedom from all of this made his heart beat out of his still-bloody chest. He thought about the deal this monster was offering. This monster who had killed his father – the strongest person he’d ever known – and had hurt him so terribly. He was no more trustworthy than the rest of the Fiendish Five, and yet…

And yet, what other choice did the raccoon have? He was condemned no matter what. At least in this way, there was the tiniest bit of hope for a future he no longer dared to have.

Sly Cooper took one deep breath, then another, and held the cane out towards Clockwerk. His voice, thin and raspy from screaming, did not waver.

“I accept.”

Clockwerk took the offered hook by two talons. He shook it with deadly honesty, gentle as could be, then released it and turned towards the door.

“I have left my portion of the Thievius Raccoonus here with the Panda King to give you a sporting chance,” he said, staring at Sly as though he was a powerful rival and not an injured child. “My home is in the Krakarov Volcano, but I do not expect you to make it that far. In fact, let us assume that the only time you will ever see it is if and when you fail in this game we have begun. I think it would be a fitting place for the death of the very last Cooper.”

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

When Carmelita woke up, it was to the loud, constant hum of machinery.

She groaned as she gingerly sat up, aching from head to toe as if she’d just been hit by a car. The ground beneath her was metallic, but deceptively warmer than she would have expected. When she looked up, she was surprised to see the slightest reflection of light in front of her. She did a slow three-sixty to the exact same sight at every turn.

She was in a large, glass…thing.

The inspector pressed one hand against the glass. It felt warm as well. Realization set in that it wasn’t just the container that was like this; the very air itself was thick with heat, despite the room she was in having no obvious source for it beyond the half dozen computers and their ridiculously-sized monitors lining the walls. From every top corner, four cameras were trained on her, and she could see heavy-duty vents embedded all over the floor outside her odd cage seemingly at random.

The single exception to all the fancy technology was one wall-to-ceiling mirror, which mocked her as she stared at it and her own face stared back. Her winter coat was in tatters – probably ripped to shreds by the talons of whatever had carried her off. Her hair was a knotted mess of a braid, and there were tiny grey flecks scattered about in it that was definitely not snow. Carmelita began lifting her arm to investigate and immediately regretted it as her body protested with pain.

She pulled up the rim of her shirt, mysterious hair dirt momentarily forgotten, and grimaced when she found a dark purple bruise wrapped around her entire midsection. It was visible through her fur, in the exact shape of the crushing grip that had stolen her breath and knocked her unconscious. Holding back the full-body shudder that threatened to overtake her at the memory took more willpower than she would ever admit.

Aside from the bruising, she was unharmed. The fox viewed it as a silver lining in this terrible situation she had found herself in, and next began cataloguing what she had available for escape.

Her jetpack and shock pistol were missing; it took a moment to remember that she had removed them while talking Sly down from his near-homicide and hadn’t picked them back up before finding him outside of the observatory. Taking them off was something she didn’t regret, even though she kicked herself for her lack of foresight after the immediate threat had ended. The only thing still on her was her radio, but, as she scrambled to turn it on, it was a hope quickly dashed when all it spit out was static.

Without the radio working, she had no way to contact Interpol. Her GPS tracker had been left in the truck with most of the rest of her stuff for the sake of mobility and speed over anything else. None of her team knew where she was; she doubted any of them had even seen her get carried off. Clockwerk – because it had to be Clockwerk, who else would it have been? – had ambushed her and Sly so silently that she hadn’t even heard his approach until it was too late. No one else would have thought to look up while they were preoccupied with securing the Panda King’s fortress. The inspector was on her own when it came to getting out of here.

She had the thought, for a moment, of her former partner – and then firmly pushed it away before it could give her false hope. There was a good chance he had no idea where she’d been taken, and even if he did know, he was terrified of the Five’s leader. Expecting him to follow her to the ends of the earth with his worst nightmare waiting there was expecting far, far too much.

Even if he didn’t hate her anymore.

Mind made up, Carmelita began testing the glass to see if it was thin enough to shatter with her feet or even the radio. It didn’t give no matter how much force she hit it with, so instead she turned to the floor where it met metal. There wasn’t the slightest weakness she could find in the entire circle. The glass rose high above her, capped by a metal cover, but the diameter of her container was too wide for her to climb up the cylindrical walls.

Frustrated and sweating up a storm, she began taking off her shredded coat, then paused as she realized there was a slight weight to one of the pockets that she hadn’t noticed before. The inspector pulled the thing out quickly, hoping it was something she could use.

It was Sly’s camera she held in her hands.

Carmelita’s mind stalled with surprise. She hadn’t seen this thing since Wales. She remembered it, of course – the raccoon had gotten it somewhere between the USA and Haiti, and she’d often catch him taking pictures of just about any novelty he saw while they traveled, which had been a lot.

In hindsight, maybe she should have taken more note of the fact that he considered mini-marts and migrating birds to be among such novelties.

Thinking about Sly and his terrible lot in life made a rush of righteous anger flow right through her. The fox tucked the camera safely away back in her coat, deeming it a mystery to solve at a later time, and turned towards the open room beyond her odd prison.

“Hey!” She yelled up at the ceiling. “Is anyone there? What’s the meaning of this?”

There was no response except for that continued, constant hum of machinery. Carmelita worked her mouth before taking a step closer to the nearest barrier.

“I know you’re watching me. I can see those cameras. What do you want? Is this a ransom for Interpol? Some kind of retaliation? What demands do you have?”

Still nothing. The inspector let out a frustrated growl and kicked at the reinforced glass. All it gave her for her troubles was a smarting toe.

“You’re Clockwerk, aren’t you?” She called out one last time, hoping to get a reply through that. “Kidnapping doesn’t fit your known MO. Is it because I’ve arrested all your colleagues? If you were afraid of getting caught too or wanted revenge, why not just kill me?”

The cameras all stared at her in mocking silence. She bit her lip, running over the few facts she had. Clockwerk didn’t do things like this. He worked in the shadows, never revealing himself except to help his fellow Five escape at the very end of a heist. The bird was as elusive a criminal as Conner Cooper had been.

Cooper.

Inspector Fox stiffened as she remembered that night in Kunlun. Sly, dejected and certain his life was over. Offering to let her arrest him because he thought it was the only choice of fate that he could make for himself. The pure horror on his face as he looked up at what had felt like the grim reaper bearing down on them both, and then even worse – the resignation that he had clearly fallen into without even trying to run.

She thought about Jing’s story of his failed escape and the price he had paid for it. His strange shift from just wanting to get away for good, to going back over and over to steal his family’s book back for no rational reason.

“This isn’t about me at all, is it?” She asked, as much to herself as to her absent captor. “It’s about Sly Cooper.”

It was like the name alone had flipped a switch of a long-dormant machine. The computer screens all over the room turned on, and Carmelita was suddenly, finally, face to face with the dark silhouette of the leader of the Fiendish Five.

“It has always been about Cooper.” The giant owl said. His voice was cold. Emotionless. Robotic, even. It sent a shiver up her spine. “From the very beginning to the very end.”

“But why?” She questioned, understanding the actions but not the motive. “You killed a rival criminal in Conner Cooper, and then kept his son alive because he was useful. But why the – why toy with him all this time? I know he was trying to take back what you’d all stolen from him, but…he doesn’t actually care about that, does he?”

Clockwerk didn’t respond. He simply stared at Carmelita, his yellow eyes the only detail she could fully make out in his shrouded visage.

“I asked him why he kept risking getting caught by you guys, and all he could say was that he needed to get his book back. He told me right before you attacked us that he had to do that, and then he’d be able to ‘escape for real.’ It sounds like someone obsessed with fixing their family’s reputation, but that’s not what was going on at all, was it?”

Her voice came out louder and louder as the revelation hit her in full, terrible force.

“All he’s ever wanted was to be free, but he knew you’d come after him. He’s terrified of you because he fully believed it wasn’t possible to escape while you were out there. You made him think that you – that you’d let him go if he stole his book back? That you wouldn’t chase after him if he, what, if he humiliated your team enough? Is that what this is all about?”

The owl’s head twitched to the side in a perfect forty-five-degree angle. “I suppose I can indulge in this thread you’ve managed to untangle, just this once. It has been a very long time since someone who wasn’t a Cooper discovered one of my plans, after all, and you are certainly not in a position to do anything about it for much longer.”

Carmelita suppressed another shiver, and refused to look anything other than the confident, collected Inspector she had become over the course of this entire affair.

“While it is true that I allowed Cooper to believe he had any fate but death waiting for him by recovering the Thievius Raccoonus, you are only half-correct about my motives. I do not care about such shallow, insignificant things as the Fiendish Five’s reputation. Any failure on their part to protect their stolen pages of that book was entirely on them, but I would never allow the world to assume that I would let Cooper go if he were successful. It is not possible for him to succeed, you see. Even though the rest of my cohorts disappointed me, I expected it. I planned for it.

“I wanted to show the world that without their precious book, the Cooper line was nothing. It has been their crutch for thievery for as long as I have known them, and now that I have taken it away, the proof of that is known to all. Sly Cooper was not even able to get this far on his own; he was so weak that he was forced to seek aid from you.”

The dark glee in his voice made her skin crawl. Her tail twitched without consent while she absorbed his twisted words and motives.

“I don’t understand,” she said, very slowly, as every alarm in her mind suddenly went off at once. “You keep talking about the Cooper family, like – like you’ve been around as long as they have. How old are you?”

Clockwerk regarded her for a long, silent minute. Eventually he tilted his head in the opposite direction, almost as if amused by the inquiry – or perhaps deciding she was worth an honest answer for her part in the game he had been playing without anyone else knowing.

“Perfection has no age,” he finally said. “I have kept myself alive for hundreds of years with a steady diet of jealousy and hate.”

Carmelita couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “What are you saying? That you’re…immortal?”

“Revenge is the prime ingredient in the fountain of youth. I have been patiently awaiting the day when I would finally eclipse the Cooper family’s thieving reputation.”

The glee was gone. All that was left was the darkness and the spite. It was so powerful that the inspector nearly averted her gaze even though she wasn’t the target of it.

“Those arrogant Coopers dared to claim they held the title of master thieves, but they were always inferior. I am a master thief. I was the master thief. The original. The antecedent. And I have proved it, time and time again.”

“How…how would you prove something like that?” She asked, dreading the answer but compelled to learn.

“By achieving the ultimate crime.”

Soulless yellow eyes burned into hers. The eyes of a predator.

“To steal the lives of such master thieves – that is how I prove my superiority.”

Carmelita recoiled, appalled and horrified by the thing she was talking to. “Criminal” was too kind a word to describe him, even among his Fiendish companions. He was nothing less than a monster.

“How many?” The question came out in a whisper against her own will.

“Nearly all of them. Those who did not succumb to sickness, or injury, or unfortunate circumstances. I hunted entire family trees through the generations. I diluted their sprawling lineage across the entire world, narrowing it down meticulously until only one pitiful, struggling bloodline remained. I nearly completed my goal with Conner Cooper, but he evaded me for too long and became too well-known through his exploits and his book. So, I found fulfillment in his son instead.”

She finally let herself shudder. Sometime in their “conversation”, her fur had begun standing on end and hadn’t stopped. It was no wonder Sly had believed himself out of options the last time she had seen him. She had no doubt that if she hadn’t intervened, he would not have survived the trip to wherever Clockwerk had taken her.

That thought gave her pause.

“…What about me?” The fox dared to ask. “I stopped you from doing what you wanted to with him, and now I’m…here. Why let me live when I wasn’t even your target to begin with?”

“Your actions are inconsequential. Your life is inconsequential. You are alive only because I found a use for it.”

“And what use is that?” She demanded, drawing her shoulders up as high as she could to hide the way her fur was still puffed out in fear.

“Bait.”

The word caught the inspector completely off guard. Her bravado faltered just a little bit in the wake of confusion.

“I’m…what?” She blinked. “For Sly?”

Clockwerk’s answer was the slightest tilt of his head back to a vertical position. Carmelita would have pretended to scoff if not for the sick pit growing in her stomach.

“That’s not going to work. We were only partners for a month before I found out who he was, and I’ve been trying to arrest him since. He hates me.”

“Does he?” It was asked with something actually bordering on an emotion other than hatred and delight; the first he’d shown. The fox had been starting to wonder whether he was even capable of it.

And yet, that emotion was one she couldn’t identify at all.

“Of course he does!” For some reason, convincing Clockwerk of this suddenly felt very important. “He nearly killed me in Wales. And – and in Kunlun, I tried to gun him down when we ran into each other again.”

She pushed the last interaction they’d had out of her mind. Even if they had made some tentative form of reconciliation in the moment, it wasn’t enough to repair the chasm of hurt she’d caused him. Surely not enough for the raccoon to risk his life for her.

“If you truly think so, then perhaps I’ll simply kill you right now.”

Carmelita froze. The owl continued.

“You won’t survive either way, of course, but maybe a different lure would work better if you’re so certain you won’t be enough to draw him out. Considering the Panda King was the only of my former colleagues he had any attachment to, and has since been…compromised, his daughter may be an ideal substitute.”

“Don’t you dare harm that girl!” The inspector slammed her hands on the glass in thunderous, instinctive fury. “She has nothing to do with any of this!”

Clockwerk cocked his head. “What a peculiar response. I would have thought you’d beg for me to spare your life if I were to switch your places.”

“I will not let you threaten an innocent person,” she growled. “Not her, not Sly, not anyone.”

He chuckled. It was a low, terrible sound. “It’s too late for empty platitudes, Inspector Fox. We shall see whether Sly Cooper is willing to come and save you. If he does not, then I will dispose of you and find a better lure.”

And with that promise made, the ancient leader of the Fiendish Five disappeared from every screen. Carmelita collapsed to her knees, knowing she was still being watched but pretending otherwise as she stared at the giant mirror across the room and wondered whether it was worse to wish for Sly to save her or not.

Eventually, almost without thinking, she reached for her discarded winter coat and found the camera within. She ran her hands over it but didn’t turn it on, thinking over everything that Clockwerk had just confessed to. Her mind spun over the utter depravity of the creature she was trapped by. Knowing that Sly, or Jing, or any other number of people would be at his mercy was as bitter a pill to swallow as knowing that regardless of what happened from here on out, her life would probably not last long enough to witness the aftermath.

For the first time in a very long time, Inspector Carmelita Fox felt well and truly helpless.

She didn’t know when she finally began looking through the camera. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours, but at some point, her brain snapped out of its stupor long enough to realize that this inconspicuous little device was all she had left of her former partner. She didn’t know how it had gotten into her coat pocket, but she didn’t care – right now it was the most precious thing she had ever owned, right next to her lost shock pistol.

At first, they were exactly as she expected: pictures of stores and streets and cities, pictures of scenery, pictures of the occasional oddity that stuck out more than usual. But as they moved from the U.S. to Haiti to Wales, she began noticing herself popping up more and more. What had started as a sporadic appearance of blue hair or orange jacket in the background started moving to the foreground, and then became the focus completely.

There were pictures of her admiring the street vendors at a farmer’s market; pictures of her arguing with an officer over whether her parked car was a registered police vehicle; pictures of her up close, clearly looking at Sly behind the camera with a bemused yet open smile. Almost every single one was without the fox knowing the picture was being taken, and the few that weren’t featured the same slightly confused, honest happiness as Past-Her seemed to find it funny that her partner had wanted photos of her.

She’d had no idea. All the time they’d spent traveling together, that month or so of his snark and irritability and gradual trust, she had thought he surely couldn’t have felt the same way about her as she had started to feel about him. Whether he was aware of it or whether it was a subconscious thing, Sly Cooper had gone from seeing her as the cop who could be his means to an end, to someone he seemed to truly care for.

Carmelita cycled through all of them slowly, drinking in every detail so that she could commit them all to memory as she sat curled up against the wall of her glass prison and waited for her fate to be decided. This camera and its contents had been a candid snapshot into the raccoon’s mindset; she wanted to hold on tight to the feathery feeling in her chest every time a new picture of herself came up for as long as she possibly could.

And then, very suddenly, all pictures of her were gone. It was back to scenery and cities again, as it had started out, although she recognized very few of these locations. The personality he had started to grow in his photography – both with her as the subject or without – disappeared just as abruptly. All the new photos were almost clinical; no longer snapshots of lives and what it was like to live, but simply back to the basics of seeing something and taking a picture of it just to show he did.

Understanding hit the fox like a freight train, but she still gave the new batch her full attention. There were hundreds of them stored on the thing from when Sly had first bought it all the way to Kunlun; she recognized some of the scenery at the base of the mountain as the exact same that she had passed with her Interpol team probably days later. By the time she reached the end, her throat was dry from lack of water and her muscles nearly cramped every time she shifted.

And then, she came to the last one.

It was Sly – the only picture of him across the entire gallery – sitting on a bed, in a room that Carmelita didn’t recognize. He had his chin propped up in his hand and he was staring out the nearby open window at the night sky, obviously unaware of the camera aimed his way. There were bags under his eyes and he looked both contemplative and melancholy.

She could see historical Chinese décor all over the room, and the reason for the picture clicked in her head – as well as how the camera had ended up here with her. Either the raccoon had left it out where Jing had gotten ahold of it, or he had given it to her directly. She wondered when the teenager had slipped it into her coat pocket and couldn’t help but be impressed for not noticing it. Clearly, she had not been lying about learning a few things from her surrogate brother regarding sleight of hand.

Just as the inspector began working her way through the photos a second time, the screens in the room booted to life again, startling her to her feet in preparation for fight, flight, or another harrowing conversation.

This time, Clockwerk did not waste any time before cutting to the chase.

“Sly Cooper is here.”

Carmelita swallowed and flexed her hands at her side. She fought the icy panic and the dangerous hope that were both creeping across her mind, pretending instead to be indifferent to the announcement.

“He knows you are alive, but not where you are. I am curious if he will be able to find you before my security measures overpower him.” If the owl had seen through her bluff, or was worried that Sly would succeed, he did not show it. His metal countenance was as unreadable as always.

“I believe in him. He’s made it this far on his own,” she dared to say over the fear that her captor would take it as a challenge that he was underestimating her former partner.

“Indeed, he has. His luck has certainly held out longer than expected.”

Clockwerk leaned forward, and she very much did not like the sudden gleam in his eye.

“But this time, Inspector, you are not going to be his savior. You are going to be his doom.”

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

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A/N: I love villains. I love monologues. I love villain monologues. I may love these things a little TOO much because I think I made Clockwerk awfully chatty compared to canon, oops. The cat is finally out of the bag, the truth is finally revealed, and now we know exactly why Sly was so single-mindedly obsessed with recovering the Thievius Raccoonus instead of simply disappearing into the dead of night.

Also, kudos to everyone who predicted that Bentley and Murray would make another appearance! There were quite a few of you and I was delighted at how many remembered that Sly had a way to contact them.

[sideswipe1730]

lion's roar rang out as the sun rose over the Africa savannah, and a song began to play on the breeze. Animals of all types began to make their way to the palace elephants, giraffes, wildebeest, antelope, hippos, and eventually humans,- all moving as the wind blew through the trees.

Ingonyama nengw' enamabala

Ingonyama nengw' enamabala

Ingonyama nengw' enamabala

Ingonyama nengw' enamabala

Night, and the spirit of life, calling (Oh, oh, iyo)

Mamela (Oh, oh, iyo)

And a voice, with the fear of a child, answers (Oh, oh, iyo)

Oh, mamela (Oh, oh, iyo)

"Ubukhosi bo khokho." Pegasus called out, his voice leading the animals and people to gather below him. "We ndodana ye sizwe sonke."

Wait. There's no mountain too great (Oh, oh, iyo)

Hear the words and have faith (Oh, oh, iyo)

Have faith

(Hela hey mamela, hela hey mamela, hela hey mamela, hela hey mamela)

As everyone gathered the spirits of the past king's could be seen by all. The most prominent, was the last king, . Pegasus raised his arms to the last king, and gestured to all the animals bellow, the wind following his movements.

As the animals and people felt the spirit of their past king blow past of the wing, they bowed, honoring the one who had ruled them justly for so long.

He lives in you. He lives in me

He watches over. Everything we see

Into the water. Into the truth

In your reflection. He lives in you

Doors behind Pegasus opened, and many people stepped out. Kings family Koki, jimmy z, and the kings youngest brother Christopher kratt but Martin calls him Chris

Last of the arrivals were king Martin and his wife Aviva, who was holding their newborn daughter, kiara, who was very alert.

Kiara had dark brown hair and baby blue eyes that aviva knew would be able to get many things she wanted from the palace servants, and possibly her father.

Pegasus smiled and gently took Kiara from Aviva's arms and held her up before the assembled crowd. As the people cheer, and Martin, Aviva, and the rest on the balcony are blown by the wind from the approving figure of the past king.

He lives in you. He lives in me

He watches over. Everything we see

Into the water. Into the truth

In your reflection. He lives in you

As the wind blew past kiara, she struggled playfully in Pegasus's grip, her small arms popping free from under the blanket she was wrapped in as the elephants stomped and sent birds flying past.

After much cheering from the crowd, Pegasus lowered the girl and waved the staff he had placed next to him over the child's head. After glowing, a crown with any animal symbol appeared on her forehead. Placing Kiara back in Aviva's arms, the new parents cooed over their child softly as the court watched.

"Ah Jimmy," Jeff sighed at the sight. "Look at that little guy. A chip off the old block! And you gotta know who's gonna raise him."

"His parents?" Jimmy asked with an eye roll.

"Okay sure, get technical." Jeff rolled his eyes right back. "But who's gonna teach him the really important stuff? Like how to belch?"

"And eat pizza?" Jimmy grinned, caching on.

Yep." Jeff praised his friend. "I'm telling ya, buddy... it's gonna be like old times. You, me, and the little guy."

"Um guys it's is a girl." Chris chuckled standing by his brother and sister-in-law.

"Girl…" Jeff repeated.

Then it sunk in.

"Girl!?" Jimmy and jeff shouted in unison, before collapsing in a dead faint.

[hippolotamus]

oh my GOD 🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝

Hi! And thank you for your patience! 💞

“Yeesh,” Chim says. “This brother sounds like a real piece of work. Hope she’s worth all the trouble.”

Eddie hopes so too. At the very least she can’t be worse than the potential matches he’s already met.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“Uh huh…” Chim trails off.

Eddie does a double take when he notices Chim’s mouth all but hanging open, and follows his gaze. Hen and Karen are leading a brunette woman, with fair skin, who looks to be roughly Eddie’s age, She’s smiling and chattering away with her hosts. She’s- radiant.

He stands up taller, presenting his best smile as she approaches. Beside him he thinks Chimney gasps.

“May I present Missus Maddie Kendall.” The woman winces next to Hen, nearly imperceptible before she recovers. What was that about?

“And this,” Hen continues, gesturing to him, “is Edmundo Diaz.”

“Eddie,” he corrects. “You can call me Eddie. Pleased to meet you Miss Kendall.”

“Maddie. Please, it’s just- Maddie.”

“Of course.” He takes her offered hand, brushing his lips across smooth skin.

“And you can call me Howard.”

Hen, Karen and Eddie whip their heads toward their mutual acquaintance.

‘Howard?’ Karen mouths silently to her wife.

“Or- or Howie. Or Chimney. Whatever you prefer Miss- um, Maddie.”

Maddie barks out a laugh, quick to cover her mouth with her palm. “That’s quite a list of names. It sounds like there might be a story there?”

Other than Chim already trying to poach his match, Eddie is pleased so far. He thinks she could be more than agreeable as a wife and mother.

“Maddie,” he interjects. “May I have your next dance?”

“Oh! Of course. It would be my pleasure.”

It doesn’t escape his attention that Chim watches her like a lovesick puppy while Eddie leads them to the dance floor. He chooses to tuck that away for another time.

np tagging some other interested peeps @diazheartsbuckley @diazsdimples @daffi-990 @eddiebabygirldiaz @tizniz @jesuisici33 @spotsandsocks @bi-buckrights

[gnfawkes]

Jess & The Blobs (Part 1)

Jess really wanted a cup of coffee.

She’d been walking around all day, enjoying the weather for what it was. And now she really wanted a nice, iced coffee.

 She started walking in the direction of her favorite coffee place, Go Go Mocha. People gave her strange looks the whole way there, and stepped out of her path like she had the plague. Jess couldn’t imagine why.

It wasn’t like she wearing a bloody clown costume or holding a ticking briefcase. No, just a normal flowy, purple top and jeans. Jess liked the color purple, it reminded her of hippos because when she was a kid she always colored the hippos purple.

Anyway, she arrived at Go Go Mocha. The bell on the door jingled as she opened it and walked inside. Her friend that worked there, Erika, manned the counter. It must’ve been a long day, cause she still had her customer-service smile on and hadn’t really noticed that it was her.

“Hello, welcome to Go Go— what the hell!?”

Jess tilted her head to the side as Erika let out a shout of surprise; it was very loud and almost hurt her ears. “What’s wrong?”

Erika pointed at her feet. Surrounding Jess’s feet was a swarm of strange, blue, blob-like creatures. They had big, googly eyes and no other facial features besides that. Some of them were the size of bowling balls, and others the size of pebbles, but besides that, they were just blue balls of goo. They huddled around Jess’s legs like baby chicks.

“Jess, what the hell are those things!?”

“Don’t know. . . “ Jess said with a small shrug. “Can I get my usual order, to go, please?”

“What do you mean you don’t know!?” Erika looked stressed, Jess hoped she wasn’t working too much again. Those long hours weren’t good for her health. “Where did they come from?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Jess looked at one of the blue blobs. It was just sitting at her feet, slowly rocking from side to side. “They just kinda showed up in my room the other day. They follow me around, it’s cool.”

“It is not cool! Do they not freak you out?”

Before she answered, one of the blobs started climbing up the counter. Its gooey body seemingly defied gravity itself as it rolled up a sheer surface. When it got to the top, Erika jerked backward as if it would bite her or something. They wouldn’t, Jess would know.

The lone blob stared at her with its big, googly eyes. Jessica realized she never asked if they wanted anything. That was rude of her.

“I’m sorry, did you want anything?” The blob stared. She nodded and turned back to Erika. “Do you have any more of those salt-water taffies you had last time I was here?”

Erika just stared at her blankly. Oh, that’s right, Erika had asked her a question. Again, how rude of her.

“They don’t freak me out, I guess.” She bent down and grabbed one of the blobs in her hand. It did not protest. “They’re harmless. They’re also pretty squishy though.”

She squished the one in her hands as a demonstration. It smushed like putty and then reformed when she pulled her hand away. Once again, it did not protest. Jessica gently put it back on the ground with the others, where it remerged into the collective.

Erika seemed to be having a staring contest with the blob on the counter. Jess didn’t think that was a good idea, she didn’t think she’d ever seen one of them blink.

“I’ll. . . I’ll just go get you your order.” Erika held the blob’s gaze until she walked out of sight.

She came back not long after holding Jessica’s usual order: An iced coffee with matcha boba pearls and five shots of espresso. She also had a small bag of saltwater taffy.

“That’ll be seven-fifty,” she said. Her staring contest with the counter blob resumed.

Jess started to reach for her wallet, but then the counter blob rolled itself to the right. There was a ten-dollar bill in the place it had been sitting just a moment ago.

“Oh, you’re paying?” The blob stared. Jess smiled and took the bill. “Thank you.”

Jess handed Erika the bill. She seemed hesitant to touch it, though Jess couldn’t understand why; it was completely dry and they weren’t like slugs, they didn’t leave a residue of slime everywhere.

“Keep the change,” she said. Erika mumbled a thank you and handed her the food and drink.

Jess and her legion of blobs left the coffee shop, each enjoying their sweets and coffee respectively. Such a nice day, Jess thought, I should go for a walk.

[hippolotamus]

When will I see you again? - Eddietommy

My love, my darling. I need you to know that real tears were shed in the making of this snippet. May I present WW2 Staff Sgts Diaz and Kindard (partially under the cut to save your dash):

“When will I see you again?” Eddie asks. The tremble in his voice betrays the stoic persona he needs right now. No matter how much his heart leaps every time he sees Tommy, it doesn’t change the fact that they’re both still owned by the US Army and Uncle Sam. That if anyone knew the nature of their relationship, they’d be dishonorably discharged and run out of town. Assuming they weren’t beaten to death first. 

“Not sure.” Tommy shrugs. Like none of this means a damn thing. “Shit, I don’t even know where I’m headed.”

“No girl waiting for you at home?” It’s meant to be joking, to ease the tension, but it falls flat like Eddie should have known it would.

“You know damn well there’s not,” Tommy murmurs, sending him an icy glare. He quickly schools his features. “But I’m sure they’ll make me find one. Not like a guy can just be a bachelor and live his life.”

And that’s the thing that rips Eddie into a thousand pieces more than having to say goodbye. Knowing that they’ll both have to transition into some sort of domestic life. Pretend they didn’t just endure three years of pure hell fighting off the Axis powers. That they aren’t at least a little fucked from the neck up. Pretend that they never fell in love. 

The first time Tommy kissed him, Eddie froze, unsure whether to kiss him back or run like hell. He knew what he wanted to do. The thing he’d been wanting to do since he first laid eyes on Staff Sgt Kinard of the US Army Air Forces division. So he did. He grabbed Tommy by the shirt and hauled him in for a bruising kiss. Not unlike the one they had shared barely ten minutes before, in the secrecy of an abandoned office. Like they’ll never share again, it seems. 

“Staff Sergeant Diaz!” 

Eddie whips around toward the voice, standing ramrod straight and saluting when he sees it’s a superior officer. “Sir, yes, Sir!”

“Bus is heading out in five. Your ass better be on it if you don’t want to be left in this godforsaken hellhole.”

“Yes, Sir, Master Sergeant!” The officer walks away and Eddie relaxes his body. He swallows hard, forcing himself to look at Tommy. He wants to memorize every goddamn line on his face, like he hasn’t done it dozens of times before in the cover of darkness. “I guess this is it.”

Something passes over Tommy’s face so quickly, there and gone before Eddie can parse what it means. “Yeah, guess it is.” 

Tommy searches the crowd, calling out when he finds who he’s looking for. “Deluca! Over here.”

Jealousy, vicious and green, rears its ugly head and snaps its jaws in the confines of Eddie’s ribcage as Deluca jogs over. 

“What?” Sal snaps. In lieu of an answer, Tommy grabs the cigarette pack from Sal’s jacket pocket. He takes one for himself, lights it and shoves the pack back at Sal. 

“Beat it, Deluca,” Tommy says on an exhale. Eddie can’t pretend he isn’t happy when Sal huffs and storms off. 

He turns to Tommy and raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t think you smoked.”

“I don’t,” Tommy answers. He meets Eddie’s gaze with those bright sky blue eyes that Eddie wants to stay lost in. Tommy’s voice drops low for his next words. If only it were possible to lower their accompanying intensity and heartbreak. “Just needed something to get the taste of you out of my mouth. Can’t very well watch you leave and still have that behind. May as well cut my losses all at once.”

Eddie thinks Tommy could have cut his heart out and it would have hurt less. He starts to tell him so when there’s another bellow from the bus, reminding Eddie that he’s out of time. 

“When you figure out where home is, maybe don’t forget to write?” It’s a desperate plea and a long shot, but Eddie has to try for something. 

“Don’t miss your bus, Diaz.”

There are so many things Eddie could say or do. The only ones he can follow through on are giving Tommy a tight nod before he walks away. 

He purposely finds a window seat where he won’t be able to watch as Tommy fades from view. From his life. Because they both know damn well Tommy’s not gonna write. And Eddie doesn’t trust himself to stay composed if he sees Tommy’s stupidly gorgeous face. From here on out Staff Sergeant Thomas Kinard is just a memory. Has to be. One more piece of this stupid war that Eddie would rather never have to think of again. 

*****

Tommy watches Eddie’s bus pull away. He should have turned around the second Eddie did and gone back to checking his effects. But he didn’t because he’s stupid that way. Because he’s been a sucker for Edmundo Diaz since he kissed Tommy back in that underground club. The one Eddie claimed that he didn’t know why he was there. Tommy did. He knew as soon as Eddie stepped inside, wide-eyed and scared like a newborn fawn. 

He also knew he had to get to him first because he wasn’t going to let just anyone claim then Corporal Diaz. If anyone tried, Tommy couldn’t be held responsible for what happened. Eddie was his, even if neither of them were ready to admit it yet. 

He thinks again of Eddie’s parting words, asking Tommy to write when he figures out where home is. And that’s the thing, isn’t it? The secret he’ll carry to his grave. Because he doesn’t have to figure it out. Home hasn’t been a geographical location in years. Of course he knows exactly what address he’ll go to when he gets dumped back in California, and it sure as shit isn’t home. 

Home is in encoded conversations. It’s in stolen moments and glances. Bits of time they took for themselves because nobody was ever going to give it to them. It’s in hushed whispers about a future that’s never going to come true. In biting truths and scared, too honest confessions. Home just walked out of Tommy’s life and left on a shitty army bus bound for Texas. 

send me an angsty prompt

[hippolotamus]

Hi dear 💕💕

🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝 please 💕

Hello dearest, and thank you for your patience! Your sentences 💞

“That sounds fantastic. Can you arrange an introduction?”

“Of course. However, there is something you should probably know,” Hen adds. “I’m told she’s being accompanied by her younger brother who is- well, a bit protective.”

“Understandable. A brother should want to look out for his sister.”

“And he’s very persnickety,” Karen chimes in.

“I appreciate your concern, but it makes one think you don’t actually want me to meet this widow. If so, please just tell me and I’ll move on.”

Eddie isn’t interested in any games or additional hindrances to this already taxing process. Charming one sibling can’t be so difficult can it?

“No, no!” Karen rests a hand on his forearm reassuringly. “Forgive us. Wait here, please. I believe they may have recently arrived here at the ball.”

“Thank you.” He visually follows Karen and Hen as they weave through their guests, until they’re out of sight.

np tagging some other peeps who were interested in this one @diazsdimples @daffi-990 @spotsandsocks @jesuisici33 @tizniz @rainbow-nerdss @eddiebabygirldiaz @bi-buckrights (it’s been a while and I have probably forgotten people 😬)

[hippolotamus]

🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️

:)

It’s been 84 years dot gif 😅 for you, dearest 🧜‍♂️

His parents would probably say it’s too exposed, too dangerous. But that would require them to take an interest in what he’s doing with his time.

And anyway, nothing has ever bothered him here. No animal predators, no humans. The occasional boat passes overhead, but that’s all. They don’t stop or pause, just continue on their way. Besides, if anything ever did happen, there’s a small cave nearby where he stores his treasures and trinkets. It’s got plenty of room for him too.

Does Maddie have a space like this? A place to rest and recover? She’s always with her stupid boyfriend. Evan can’t stand him, doesn’t know what she sees in him.

On the surface, there’s nothing overtly wrong about the guy. It’s just- he rubs Evan the wrong way. He makes Evan’s hackles stand up, puts him in fight or flight mode and makes his muscles tighten. And Maddie never says anything, but Evan can tell Doug is wearing her down somehow. Like her smile and glow get the tiniest bit dimmer when she returns home. As if he’s siphoning her joy from her.

One of these days Evan is gonna find something to pin on Doug. Something significant enough to get him out of their lives forever.

He needs to not think about that right now. Needs to get out of his head and find a way to distract himself. He scoops up a pebble and tosses it, catching it with his fins where he repeats the motion, dribbling it over and over. It’s not the most exciting thing but it keeps him entertained for a few minutes until he’s bored all over again.

With a frustrated sigh he gives the pebble one final whack, sending it into the depths. Maybe someone else is around, one of his friends or the lady that makes the tasty kelp bites.

He swims somewhat aimlessly, zigzagging and rolling into the occasional flip. He’s just come out of a series of dolphin rolls when he sees it. Sees him. Shadows from the flailing limbs of a young boy that suddenly aren’t flailing anymore. They slow and become still, as if acquiescing to the sea.

…

His eyes dart around, searching for anyone else nearby. Anyone else that might have seen. There’s no one, save for a few decorator crabs and a passing ray. He can’t let this boy die.

Evan ignores the generations worth of instinct that tugs at him to turn around and leave well enough alone. It pulls like a fisherman’s net, hindering his movements, making him feel sloppy and uncoordinated.

“Let me go!” He fights, keeping the boy in view. “Please.”

He thinks of Maddie, how she would do the same thing in his position. He knows deep in his bones that’s true. And if the gods could shine favorably on anybody, it should be her and the example she’s set for him.

With a final jerk of his body, he’s finally able to make some real progress. Like the invisible line has been cut, freeing him. He hurries to the limp body that’s gradually sinking lower. Evan only knows a little about humans, but he knows they can’t survive without air.

Please don’t let me be too late. The boy’s wrist is solid in Evan’s grasp as he drags him to the surface. In the split second before they break through, Evan sends a prayer to Poseidon that they emerge where he won’t be seen.

“Thank you,” he whispers when the water’s clear. The land has countless humans on it, but he knows they won’t see him from here. Their vision isn’t that good.

Evan wraps one arm around the boy’s chest to prevent him from going back under. Now that they’re above the waves, his new challenge is locating a solid area.

“Come on!” His human has access to air but still isn’t breathing. He needs a buoy, a dock, anything.

There.

He races backwards towards a sandbar, clutching the boy tightly and ensuring his mouth stays above water. Carefully, he deposits him on the sand and watches, anticipating the rise and fall of his chest. Except it doesn’t.

There are no signs of life, no twitches or indicators. The only movements are from droplets running along natural curves, pooling in the hollow of the boy’s throat. His lips are pale blue, a hue that might look prettier on him if it wasn’t such a grim indicator.

Panic and fear claw their way up Evan’s throat. He knows there’s something he’s supposed to do. Fragments from a first aid book come to him in little flashes. Tidbits on how to provide care for cuts, stings, and burns. There’s something else though, if a person’s heart stops. Was it sea something? Or see? No. Not sea or see. C as in an initial.

The entire picture comes back to him, all of the fragments aligning and he finally remembers what he’s meant to do. He pinches the boy’s nose shut, sealing their mouths together and forcing a breath. His human still refuses to breathe on his own. So he tries again, and again, and again until the boy inhales sharply. It’s followed by a wet, hacking cough as his human sputters violently. Then his human’s eyes fly open, wide and terrified.

“Hey! Hey! Don’t roll back in.” Evan lays a hand on the boy’s chest, trying to reassure him. “It’s okay. Shhh. It’s okay.”

The boy seems to finally notice he’s not alone as he meets Evan’s gaze. His irises are a warm brown, more welcoming now that the imminent danger has passed. Almost like Maddie’s.

“Hi.” The corner of Evan’s mouth turns up in a half smile, utterly fascinated.

“Hi?” His human responds warily. “Who, uh, who are you?”

np tagging @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming @spotsandsocks @bekkachaos @diazsdimples @daffi-990 @theotherbuckley @dangerpronebuddie

[hippolotamus]

actually also

🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️

Of course 🫶

I’m Evan! What’s your name?”

“Eddie.” He cranes his neck to survey the area. “I’m not dead. Right?”

Evan barks out a laugh and grins widely. Something he quickly realizes was a mistake when Eddie scrambles to get away, nearly falling off the sandbar again.

np tagging @spotsandsocks @daffi-990 @diazsdimples @dangerpronebuddie @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming @tizniz @theotherbuckley