#or do they get called guards at some point.

[iihandsiiheavn]

ʚïɞ "next door" LN4

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✧₊⁺ lando norris x aurora jones (female!oc)

✧₊⁺ wc: 2,1k. ⠀⠀✧₊⁺ genre: hurt/confort, angst.

summary: when aurora hears something breaking in the apartment next door and just can't think of letting lando get hurt.

warnings: soft!lando, mclaren strategy trigger, description of an anxiety attack, pretty much platonic, author with no ability to end oneshots, small injury description.

Aurora heard the elevator open. The British accent talking on the phone, the angsty conversation, and the door beside hers taking too long to swing open but never closing.

She took a few minutes. Had some tea, washed her dishes, and then… she was standing by her own door, wondering if she should knock and check on her neighbor.

Lando Norris. Of course, she knew the man; a Formula One athlete, probably the best news for the sport in years.

And she knew the pressure that came with the glory. They had spent some time together during the few years she had been living in the building. Quick talks in the elevator, in the parking lot while he helped her with groceries —every now and then, they met, and Aurora had grown affectionate towards the guy.

So it's no doubt she's worried. She’s on the internet, of course she saw everything around his name, and of course, it feels weird.

Someone can be a top athlete in a sport that only twenty people in the whole world get to compete in, and there's still a way to be put down.

Then she hears something breaking —something like glass against her own wall, the one they share. It's instinctual; one second she's wondering, and the next she's outside her apartment, finding his door half open and hesitating.

Maybe she shouldn't get involved. It could have been anything.

"YOU'RE TOO DUMB!"

Alright, she's in.

"Hey, Lando? I heard something and thought I should..."

"Leave." It's heartbreaking — the voice full of agony and the obvious crying, trying to stay low. She still can't see him.

"Yeah- Sure. Sure. Can I... Can I just make sure you're okay? I heard something breaking. Are you alright?"

"No."

Lando closes his eyes as the back of his head hits the wall, a little stronger than he intended. Lately, too many things are hitting harder than they should, and now he sounds like an angry child.

He just can't lie. No, he's not okay, not fine. His hands are bleeding from the broken glass, and his whole body burns — it feels like too much.

Oscar has to work towards his points. There was a whole two-hour meeting about how the Formula One championship might work for the year ahead, and it felt like a knife twisting inside his muscles.

How come he can't manage to do things by himself? How does his whole team need to set everything up for him? Isn't he capable?

And everyone talks. His own friend and rival is around, saying that Lando is not the first driver. Everything is simply working against him, and the pressure is up. It shouldn't be that way.

"Where are you? I'm coming in, okay? I'm sorry, I can't help it."

He recalls the talk they had once in the elevator, a late-night conversation when he just went to the lobby to grab his food delivery and she was coming home from work. The girl is a doctor, or on her way to becoming one — he can't remember everything right now.

So for once, he feels like giving in. Maybe he could use some help, and Aurora is kind of a proper person to do it. Professionally, of course, and then... she's not so close to him. Just enough to understand what's happening but not enough to judge him or treat him differently after he lets his guard down.

"Hey... Hey, Lando." She has the sweetest voice, the sweetest approach. Doesn't fully walk towards him, doesn't get too defensive. God, he needed this. "Do you need anything? Do you want me to call someone, or... do something? You're hurt. I can see blood."

"No, don't call anyone. I'm gonna be okay."

In a hurried need to show everything is fine, he tries drying his bloody hands on his pants, but it only hurts more and he can't keep the pained expression or the small whimper from escaping his lips. Great thing Aurora also can't keep herself.

She takes a towel from the counter, kneeling in front of him as he tries to hide his hands.

There's something about letting people see you're hurt. Lando hates that. In every way possible.

"It's okay, it's fine. Let me just clean that for you, alright? Let me take care of that."

Nothing that will ever come out of his mouth, but yeah. How that boy wanted to be taken care of. It feels like life has only been hitting and bruising him, and no one even wipes it clean.

He really wants to let his guard down, even if it's just for a moment.

"It's just... just a cut," he mouths, hands out and fingers pressed, like it would hurt to move. "What are you doing here?"

"Heard something and got worried."

Aurora's soft hands touch his calloused ones, ready to wrap the towel around them, right before she sees a small piece of something that looks like porcelain.

"You have something stuck in your skin; we gotta take it out. " she warns. "It will hurt a bit, okay? But I need to take it out to stop the bleeding."

"It's... it's okay. You don't need to do anything for me. I can do it by myself."

"Yeah, of course you can. I just want to help. Can you take a deep breath for me?"

Aurora doesn't wait much, just as if she's in a professional procedure. It’s not in much need of a hurry, but usually, she just narrates what she's doing next and does it. It's more about the patient's headspace than the hurt itself. Not much explanation, no time to let the patient think.

So the blue piece of porcelain is out of Lando's skin in seconds, thrown into the sink before she actually wraps the towel around the hand that bleeds the most.

"That was fast." It comes out with a soft moan from the boy's lips, eyes closed with the tears stuck and everything.

His hands looked ugly, but his face... there was something going on, and Aurora really wanted to know, to do whatever about it.

"It was a small piece," she says, instinctively touching his face and cleaning the tears now rolling down. "You're sure you don't want me to call anyone? You don't seem like you should be alone right now."

"No, it's okay."

In fact, there isn't much that is "okay." The apartment is a mess, broken glass, many things out of place, dark and in disarray. Aurora is good with the signs; she is great at taking care of people and could do it with her eyes closed.

Lando just needed to be taken care of.

"Would you let me... help you out? You don't need to stay on the floor." Naturally, her fingers lace around his face, a soft touch that almost made him lean into it. "Hm? What do you think?"

His brain can't fight much anymore; so when he nods and she helps him up, when she guides him through the apartment to make sure he's not stepping on glass, when she puts him on the couch and stands in front of him, it does feel a little better.

Lando has to be in control most of the time. He is the first driver for one of the most traditional teams in motorsports, drives a Formula One car. There are a whole lot of people working towards it, but at the end of the day, he's driving solo. It depends on him. No matter what Zak says on the radio, or what the team puts together in the meetings.

Once he's behind the wheel, it's on him. To make the right decision, to keep up.

Having someone else just step up and be there is pretty new.

"I... hm... thank you, Aurora. Thank you, truly. You don't need to stay here if you don't want to." At this point, the tone in his voice almost says otherwise.

"I want to." Aurora lets out.

Lando would laugh in any other situation. She is straightforward; he noticed that from their previous few talks, and she's like that with everything in life. No shame, no worry. He even thought about how she'd get along well in a conversation with his old coworker and friend, Daniel Ricciardo.

"I really won't be able to settle down if I leave you here by yourself, so... Yes. If you tell me I can stay..." Lando notices her tone, low and calm.

She's cautious, her posture so relaxed yet so serious. She does this for a living, and he knows that, but right now, it feels like she's doing it just for him. It's comforting to think of it that way.

"Yeah, yeah. It's fine. I didn't eat very well today and my head is spinning a bit. I fucked up."

Coming back to his senses, Lando tries to make things better. She came into his apartment because he was cursing himself, finding him curled up and bleeding in the kitchen. So, yes, things do need to get better.

"It's completely fine, it happens. You need to eat something and drink some water. I can grab some painkillers for you. Oh, and you need to stretch your legs, tilt your head up a bit, and... regulate your breathing. Can you do that for me? You're still a bit off."

He didn't think he'd be able to keep up with all these words, but he did. Of course, he's still a bit off — his heart is still racing and his hands can't stay still.

And even with all of that, he's a lot calmer now. Despite the terrible day at work, the comments he read on social media at lunchtime, with everyone talking down on him and all the jokes about him.

Oh, it is hard to breathe.

"Hey, Lando. You're okay, huh? You just need to take a big breath for me."

His response is a soft, low whimper when she gently touches his chin and raises his head just enough, following procedure as if she's at work but being extra gentle. Her thumb caresses his skin.

"C'mon, in through your nose, out through your mouth. We're not in a rush; you can take your time," she reassures, now close enough so both her hands can touch him, now caressing his hair. "I know you're used to the speed and everything... Oh! I heard you coming in last week at full speed! I was scared!"

She studied for this. Most people can manage a better way out of a crisis when being distracted.

"I had to stream." he says, not planning for it to come out as a whisper, but it did.

"I forget you do it all." Aurora chuckles, taking her hands away from him as soon as it feels comfortable enough.

Lando moans in dislike, although he won't say it. He was enjoying it way too much.

"My brother showed me a clip of yours last weekend... Can't believe you're actually funny." she keeps the conversation up, hands on her waist as she analyzes the man, his chest moving up and down, now way more controlled. "I thought you rich boys were all annoying and snobbish."

"We are. Don't let the gameplay fool you."

And there he is—the dark-humored Brit she met in the elevator. It brings a smile to her face.

"Yeah," she softens up. "Did anyone tell you that you are the standard? That Senna of yours parked downstairs... A baby, a very, very expensive baby."

"It's propaganda. I work for them. Did you know?"

She rolls her eyes lightly, the boy acting more and more natural as she stands in front of him.

"You get free luxury cars in the name of propaganda? Besides the billion-dollar one you drive every other weekend? Wow. How can I submit my resume?"

"I do think you could. You are a great doctor," he compliments, subtly, making it clear she wasn't expecting that. "Thank you for coming over, though. I didn't know I could have that control over myself."

"It's all up here," she points to her own head. "Whenever you need, I'm right next door. No... no more hurting yourself."

"That was an accident," he's quick to say. "But it's okay. If you're coming over every time I get hurt... I do have some spare plates."

"Lando, stop that!" Aurora tries to keep from laughing, hitting the Brit with a pillow. "I'm going now, okay? Since everything is fine and you're already joking your way around."

"Oh—no, no. It's fine. If you want to stay a bit more... In case I... trip or anything. It's really good to have professional help on hand."

Aurora has a smile on her face now.

There is something growing in the room.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ʚïɞ iihandsiiheavn, 2024.

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[trashmouth-richie]

a little blurb from eddie’s pov in volume: four — aka the night tooty comes home drunk and eddie brings home the twins from the bar

1300k words || eddie x you || honey i’m home masterlist

eddie wasn’t good at doing laundry. 

before he moved in with you, he and wayne took turns dumping copious amounts of laundry soap into the washing machine, cranking dials in no particular fashion and slamming the lid closed. hoping to all hell that their clothes would come out clean. 

work jeans would be washed on ‘delicate’. darks and whites all washed in hot water, sometimes cold. there was no rhyme or reason, simple whatever the two men had felt like was right on that day. 

when eddie moved in with you, it wasn’t any different. 

he hadn’t changed his bachelor style raised ways at all. eddie spent most of his time at the house on cherry lane driving you up the wall, for nothing but pure entertainment for himself. he couldn’t help it— it was just too easy to make you upset. and okay… maybeeeee he enjoyed the attention you’d give him when you would scold him about being a complete neanderthal. maybe he thought you were cute when you were mad. but that couldn’t be right, you were eyeball’s sister, and nothing would make him cross that line. 

so it was a no-brainer for him to bring the twins back to the house for an after-concert-fuckfest. it was guaranteed to make you mad, and he’d be getting his dick wet. win-win. 

they were hot, equal parts sassy and spicy, begging for his undivided consideration—willing to do whatever —wherever— he asked. it went how ot always did, they worshiped his cock, called him daddy, squealing whining and panting about how they belonged to him. it was any rockstar’s dream. one eddie seemed to live almost every night before he moved in with you.

you. 

he’d never admit to the girls that his hips weren’t holding rhythm because tooty had crossed his mind. 

he’d never let on that they would have to put in the work because his brain was racked with questions of where you were, what were you doing. 

he was caught off guard when you pranced into his head and refused to leave. your arms were crossed, eyebrows pinched in disgust your lips pouty. godddddd those lips. they were straight from an angel’s that he was sure of.

before he knew it he was coming hard, quicker than usual, faster than any time in his twenties, maybe even his late teens. did the girls come? he didn’t care, he didn’t even ask. 

tossing the condom somewhere around his room, eddie laid ass naked in his bed, lighting a cigarette post sex, listening to the girls get dressed and whisper about how jealous their friends would be that they went home with corroded coffin’s lead singer. 

tooty. 

why did you do that? why did you cross his mind at the most inconvenient times? somewhere deep down you had always been in the back of his mind, even before steve had told him you needed a roommate. 

he smiled crookedly, blowing a line of smoke through his lips. maybe to get you all riled up he’d invite the twins to stay? god you’d be so fucking mad seeing not one, but two girls sitting at the kitchen table eating your food, drinking your coffee —(he wouldn’t make anything for them, fuck no, they could figure that out themselves)— he could just imagine your face, the way your eyebrows would furrow and how steam would practically roll out from your ears. 

seeing your face made him smile. no matter how mad or angry you could get with him, getting you to that point was one of his favorite past times and he’d do just about anything to get you there. 

but where were you tonight? did you have a date? he couldn’t remember you ever saying anything about it but maybe you wouldn’t have told him even if you did? the idea of some chump taking you out, buying you dinner, trying to kiss those pouty lips, jesus christ the thought of it alone made his stomach turn. 

tooty?

 he could recognize your voice anywhere. when did you get home? was your date with you? stubbing out his cigarette on the lacquer tip of his nightstand, eddie stepped into a pair of sweats and followed your voice. 

—

taking care of a drunk girl was not the way he thought this night would end. but since you fourteen, you were always more than just “some girl” to him. 

but holy fuck you were hammered. why would steve let you drink that much? did he not give a shit if you choked on your own vomit? if you were coherent enough to make a decision? eddie’s blood boiled at the thought of steve just bringing you home and leaving you by yourself— as if the two of them had never made that deal after a terrible night at reefer rick’s? he’d deal with that, later. 

now here he stood in the basement, staring at your puke soaked overalls in one hand and the laundry soap in another. he didn’t want to ruin them, how shitty would that be to wake up hungover and find your clothes ruined?

so eddie did something he had never done before. he decided to not fuck with the buttons leaving them to wash in a cold cycle. he didn’t fuss with the dial or add anything extra in.

plopping the overalls into the basin, he added a dollop of soap, shut the lid and pulled the knob to have it start.

the light flickered as the old washing machine groaned and the pipes flowed with water. looking around he spied a single folding chair leaning against the concrete wall,  and that is where eddie sat until the load was finished.

waiting

thinking

listening to the washing machine bump and shudder through the wash. listening to the water whoosh as it changed to the rinse cycle. the basin spun around and around and around— much like eddie’s brain. 

trying to make sense of his feelings, he ran large hands down his face. would it be right to fall for you? to fall for his bestfriends sister? he had no way of knowing if that was something you wanted or not. but what eddie did know was that he would protect you, from anyone, from anything, even if that meant something he had caused himself. 

he shook his head. what the hell was he thinking? he needed a cigarette, something to clear his head because right now it was just full of you. the light blinked again and before he could register what he was doing he was rifling through the storage shelves in search of a replacement bulb. 

tooty can’t reach this damn thing he laughed to himself, imagining you standing on tiptoe (in those ratty shoes you refused to throw away) balancing on a small step ladder trying to manhandle the bulb from its socket. you’d be pissed no doubt, and the painted image in his head made him laugh outright. 

oh tooty, little stubborn tooty— god.

eddie decided to wait to check on you until the clothes were done, peeking through your door to make sure you were indeed breathing. 

the washing machine stopped tumbling, a loud screech alerting him that it was done. lifting the lid, he was pleased to see the stains were gone, and that he hadn’t ruined your clothes. 

“shit,” he smirked to himself, “look at you munson, finally did something right.” 

there was double meaning in those words, and eddie had yet to understand the multitude of them.

—

[justkpopjokes]

SVT’s reaction to your first kiss

A/N: Whoops I took 6 years to write this,,, Thank you to my mutuals who pushed me to do this all those years ago 😂 Kept this all fluff!! Requests open btw ^^

Ft. gender-neutral!reader

Initiates the kiss first: S.Coups, Joshua, Jun, DK, Mingyu, The8, Dino

S.Coups

Wants the kiss to be perfect and overthinks it a bit because of that

Keeps staring at your lips in the moments leading up to it to the point where you call him out on it

…Which prompts him to finally go for it and lean in and kiss you

Holds your waist to keep you steady (thank goodness because your knees are weak all of a sudden)

Pulls back quickly, not wanting to overdo it, and checks that your reaction is good before kissing you again

Joshua

Is super romantic about it!

He’d def be the guy who waits to have your first kiss until he’s 100% sure you’re both ready

He plans to kiss you after a date and makes sure it’s in a good place!! It has to be an appropriate setting where there aren’t people around to gawk at you both

Asks you if he can kiss you when you’re sitting close to each other

Smiles as he pulls away, watching your reaction to make sure you liked it

Jun

Your first kiss happens before you’re even dating

You watch him kiss in his drama and joke that he looks like a bad kisser just to get on his nerves

He gets (playfully) upset with you like “excuseeee me? I’m a good kisser! I’ll kiss you to prove it!”

Acts out the kiss scene from his drama with you just to show you how good it is

Is all cocky afterward because you’re so flustered LMAO

DK

His first kiss with you is out of excitement! No planning whatsoever

One of you had just gotten some good news—I say one of you because it doesn’t matter who; either of you could have something good happen and he’d be equally ecstatic either way

You’re both jumping out of joy and he decides on a whim to grab your face and give you a big kiss

It’s dramatic and his eyes are in crescents as he smiles at you and your cute reaction

Hugs you tightly right after since he’s happy he got to kiss you

Mingyu

Would kiss you first unless you purposely try to beat him to it lmao

But most likely he kisses you first because every time you even think about kissing him, he makes himself taller to joke about it

As in, if he catches you both standing or sitting really close, he’ll say “heh. Seems like a perfect time to kiss” and puckers his lips before straightening his back so your faces aren’t that close anymore

So he totally catches you off guard when he says it again but actually kisses you this time

Slides his hand into your hair at the back of your head as he tries to deepen the kiss

The8

You get a little tipsy while drinking with him one evening and ask him to kiss you

He laughs and brushes it off at first, but later notices you keep staring at his lips longingly

Is a gentleman and asks you if you’d really like a kiss just to make sure you consent to it

Doesn’t kiss you unless he’s absolutely sure you’re just tipsy and not super drunk (he wants you to remember it)

It’s not necessarily deep, but it’s a long kiss; he wants to take his time with you

Dino

Wants to kiss you first and tries to be all suave about it

Is suspiciously nice to you beforehand to ensure you won’t reject him when he initiates it

Gets lost in your eyes right before he’s about to kiss you, which makes you realize what’s happening

Manages to man up enough to hold your chin and press his lips to yours

Gets gutsy and doesn’t pull away for a while, wanting to kiss you for as long as possible

Is kissed first: Jeonghan, Hoshi, Wonwoo, Woozi, Seungkwan, Vernon

Jeonghan

Your first kiss with him is unexpected for both of you lol

He is quite surprised when you turn his head to kiss him before he can leave from your date

You do it on impulse, so it’s short and he has no time to react during it

You stare at him after you pull away to see his reaction so he stares back at you in shock for a moment before a smile spreads on his face and he asks if you’d like another

Smiles against your lips :))

Hoshi

Blushes really hard before getting super excited

He’s been waiting for it!!!!

Gives you a lot of smaller pecks all over your face as he hugs you because he’s glad he finally can

He might kiss you deeply later, but honestly, he just wants to give you a lot of them first

Absolutely over the moon and brags about kissing you to the guys

Wonwoo

Has been meaning to kiss you for a little while, he just hasn’t found the right moment

So when you kiss him and interrupt him while he’s talking one evening, he freezes and doesn’t know how to react for a moment

Gets a little shy when you laugh at him about his reaction

But he quickly recovers and quietly pulls you in for another (longer) kiss

Thank goodness you’re in private right now because he doesn’t hold back now that you’ve started it!!

Woozi

Your first kiss with him is super casual

(In reality he’s trying to hide how flustered he is)

You’re leaving the studio and he tries to give you a hug goodbye when you gave him a quick kiss on the lips instead

He has kissed your head before, so you don’t really make this kiss a big deal

He smiles and gives you another kiss on the lips to really savour your lips before you leave

Seungkwan

Asks for a kiss in a joking way, not really expecting you to agree

His heart starts racing when you get close and hold his cheeks to give him a kiss

Has a bit of a loud reaction out of shock but ends up giggling about it as he holds your cheeks for another

Has that adorable blush on his face as you exchange kisses for a bit

Asks you for kisses all the time after that day

Vernon

Maybe I’m just projecting…I don’t think he would think about kisses much, so he’s flustered af when you do kiss him

His face goes beet red and he wants to hide when you suddenly kiss him while sort of in public

He liked it a little too much and has a silly reaction as he tries to brush off how embarrassed he is about his reaction

Pulls you into another kiss the moment you arrive at your place, saying he wants to redo it properly

Keeps your noses pressed together after and gives you a satisfied gummy smile

[habitsbf]

TRUE FORM BASED HABIT HEADCANONS :D

note: these are obviously not all completely accurate to the canon sketch we have of his true form, so if youre a canon purist you may not dig this post. these were all taken from my own personal version of his true form.

- similar to cats (mainly talking about bigger wild cats here) HABIT has little spikes, aka papillae, all over his tongue. i know his canon true form has some spikes at the end of its tongue, but this is how i like to view them since it makes more sense to me.

the spikes on cat tongues are there for a few reasons, but the main reason that sticks out to me is the fact theyre used to scrape meat from bones. i feel like thats pretty fitting for HABIT, considering he is a predator/hunter.

- HABITs claws cannot retract and he has paw pads similar (but not exact) to a wolves. hes literally a werewolf spider demon freakazoid thing, so i think it works!! plus the idea of him having paw pads of some sort is silly...

- his fur is a dark purple-ish tone meanwhile his (multiple) eyes are a brighter purple. he doesnt have pupils, his eyes are just one solid color. that last part is basically canon since evans drawing doesnt include pupils either, but i still wanted to mention it bc i think its cool :P

- HABITs teeth are similar to a wolves, though his are sharper than a wolves are, letting him sink them into things easier.

- he doesnt need to sleep often, but sometimes HABIT curls up into a ball to sleep more comfortably, like this ↓

- HABITs tails wag when hes happy or relaxed, but if someone were to point it out he would get annoyed and probably growl at them. HES SUPPOSED TO LOOK EVIL!! YOURE POINTING OUT THINGS THAT DONT MATCH HIS EVIL PERSONA!! HES SO MAD!!

- in the MLAndersen0 video "GOODBYE" theres a clip at some point where it sounds like HABIT purred. im assuming it was meant to be a growl that came out more purr-like, but i do like the idea of that evil fucked up looking creature being able to purr. similar to the tail wagging, he would probably get pissed if someone called him out on purring as well.

- HABIT can stand and walk on two legs, but he can also walk and run around on all fours. i dont think he would use his spider legs often, but i think he would definitely use them to appear taller/bigger and present more intimidating.

speaking of appearing taller/bigger, i think his true form would be pretty big. definitely bigger than your average wolf, hes probably like... idk, 2-3 mackenzie valley wolves combined.

- i think he would chew/bite on things for fun and out of boredom. im mainly talking about bones here, but he probably chews on random things he deems chewable sometimes too.

- HABIT would probably enjoy being petted but would never admit that. he would act like he hated it and would probably bite and growl at whoever was petting him. obviously not many have the opportunity to even attempt that, but if it were to happen, thats how i think it would play out. THIS ONE IS ALSO JUST KINDA SILLY TO ME like imagine THAT FREAK letting his guard down for a moment to enjoy the feeling of being petted

THATS ALL FOR NOW, FEEL FREE TO SEND ME ASKS ABOUT HEADCANONS 🐾

[orleans-jester]

Ellie was not Marla Singer, and Babyface was not Tyler Durden. They weren’t going to stand hand in hand in an apartment building as their worlds fell apart. They were amongst the dirt and the debris, they’ve proved that enough. They were not do-nothing bitches, as Ronda Rousey would call it. So though they were on a mission here, they weren’t just doing what they had to do, they weren’t soldiers. As horrible as it might seem, knowing what they know, they were having fun, genuine fun, not wearing a mask.

Really, the giggles that came out of her when she saw the not-very-pleased and yet not pissed off look on the games-man was loud enough to cover the screams on the rollercoasters. She wouldn’t be forgetting that exact moment for a very long time. And it felt okay to laugh. It felt really okay because he clearly didn’t have any feelings, he just took the dart out of his head and there was a comic-looking spurt of blood that went over some of the toys, and then he was alright again, and ripe for another torturing.

A threat is a threat is a threat. It didn’t matter where it was coming from, or who it was coming from. Seeing the zombies as she went from their crib to the Halloweentown door, knowing her friends and family were out there and could turn to attack - if they weren’t so busy dancing - taught her that. Wandering the streets in an unfamiliar town and then getting hit by an old lady with an umbrella and having her grabby elderly hands try to get her wallet, taught her that. Real boys, fake boys, ghost boys, she wasn’t trusting anyone at this point not to suddenly turn and realize they didn’t belong here.

She had been looking up at the Ferris Wheel. Trying to gauge how to climb down if they catch sight of Mazz or Jax, rather than wait for it to take another half-turn and descend them to the bottom. There were the thin metal grids that held up the compartments, might be climbable. But then Babyface was on the jump with shooting off that gun right next to her, making her jump.

“En guarde, bitch!” Ellie said. Though Babyface was pushing her, she stood her ground, moving past him to jump at the zombie with her billy-club and to whack it over the head, putting all of her strength into it. You don’t leave a zombie behind. It could pop up again later. She blasted it’s goddamn brains out, standing there for a moment and beating it over the head as it fell down onto the ground, until there was brain matter splattered on the ground and she was slightly out of breath.

But she didn’t give herself time to catch it before she ran after Babyface towards Candyland, brainmush flying off of the billy-bat, adrenaline on an all time high. Again, thank fuck she didn’t go with a dress and heels tonight.

Run run run, feet slapping against the pavement, hair a red flying blur behind her. She trusted in Babyface and followed him, since he knew where he was going more than she did. Of course there was a Candyland though, she was not surprised at all by the giant candy canes. And then almost as if this place had a hold on her, her mouth started to water, and she felt this huge urge to just .. start licking them. She shook that out of her head. God knows how many bad boys’ tongues have been on that.

“It wasn’t,” She said, her shoulders heaving, as she heard Babyface’s words. “I promise you, it wasn’t.” She had seen the face when she bashed it in. She would have recognized it if it was Maz, surely. Even though it was all decomposing and stuff. She was sure of it. No, it had been a boy. And there had NOT been curls. But even if it had been … she would have done what she needed to do.

She slowed down like a cartoon character, her head nearly freezing in one place while her body kept moving, causing her to slip and fall backwards. While seated on the ground, her hands on it behind her, she looked up towards the night sky, to the towering lollipops that lit it up more than the stars ever could, and saw -

“Holy shit,” She said, when she saw that it was definitely Mazzie. Her hair grown longer, and more dishevelled than she had been before. “Maz! It’s us! It’s Babyface and Ellie!”

Ellie was living up to her name. Leave it to Ells to go through the carnival with her own soundtrack. Babyface Beagle was actually having fun too. He only had the sounds of the chaos and the music of the passing fun, rides, animatronics, and shows. He wasn't sure why didn't think fun was going to happen when he was approaching, but after they got started, and Ell's got so into it with him, he was having a rip roaring good time. It felt natural, like he was in on his own terrain, natural habitat, or his side of town. He didn't feel out of place. Maybe it should have felt surprising to him, but there was no cameleon affect here. He actually blended right in.

He felt like Ells was too he was enjoying himself so much. "Fuck Ed Norton. Rawwwwwwr." He'd growl like a lunatic and then start laughing as he ran to the next spot.

It kept going that way. Seeing the dart hit the barker only kept that Beagle boy pointing at others' misfortunes instead of running up to help like possibly a normal person might do in that situation. He couldn't help himself. The anything goes rules around there made it very easy for little shits like him to amplify when no one was around to tell them to stop. It was also really bizarre to not see people stick up for themselves and it was something he hadn't quite noticed the first time around. He wasn't looking for it then. But, that's how the adult sector of the carnival drew them to acting like even bigger asses to help the magic take hold. This time around noticing it was just downright funny.

Babyface took pride in the llama prize and Ells throwing skills. He kept reaching out to boop it's nose as they walked.

Real enough. True. He tried not to let any thoughts of the end of the night reality sink in. It just never dawned on him before he couldn't tell the difference between island boys and real boys. He decided right then it made no difference if they became a threat and put it out of his mind.

Babyface couldn't pick up the fact Ellie felt like she was being watched. He was too busy trying to keep his head in the game, so it went undetected.

In the end Ellie decided the ferris wheel was the way to go. She agreed. Worst thing to happen was they didn't see anything and they went on their way to Candy Land after. "Let's do it."

So, He led the way to get in line. This was the first moment-

CRACK

He fired his weapon. The first moment he learned there was more than the boys on the island to watch out for. Right from around the Are You This Tall sign flew back their first zombie.

"Oh shit!"

It wasn't dead. It fell over from the blast but it was working on getting back up again. "Ells-Ells-Ells!" He shook her to get her attention as if the blast wouldn't have shaken her completely out of any lull. "RUN!"

Ferris wheel mission was aborted just like that. He was pushing her. He didn't have a chopping off heads sort of weapon on him.

He fired again to slow it down to make their get away, maybe two more times. He wasn't counting. He got flustered at the haste. It was making his eyes do double takes as he passed every boy checking for that deathly pale corpse and rotten flesh appearance. Now he didn't want to accidentally bump into anyone by mistake and it not be a live someone or an island someone. He in no way wanted it to be an undead someone.

He'd head straight for Candy Land swerving in and out of giant candy canes until he thought they lost all signs of people. At that point he was jogging. No matter what Ellie's move was with the zombie back at the wheel he was going to be insistant they get the Hell out of there. He needed to think. In his mind he was realizing that's exactly what he thought the whole place was going to be covered in anyway. He really shouldn't have been surprised by a stray.

As his feet were slowing down to a jog all he kept saying though was, "It wasn't Mazzie. It wasn't Mazzie. It wasn't Mazzie." He fired so fast he was worried he shot a zombie Mazzie. "It wasn't her. It wasn't Mazzie."

Whoever it was just got stuck out there on the island when the Horned King's madness all took place.

Then a voice high atop one of the tallest of lollipops would call down.

"What wasn't Mazzie?"

Babyface's feet would stop dead. His head upturned. He knew that voice. She'd look... alive.

His head would turn to Ellie with the widest eyes his head could hold without popping out.

She'd look dirtier. Her hair had grown. Even from towering at least ten feet over their heads it was easy to see she was worse for wear like someone surviving in an apocalyptic world. Torn clothes. The works. It would seem she was clinging, maybe for dear life. It didn't look comfortable to Babyface.

[artist-issues]

and another thing.

if every character that has a unique characterization in their thought process, or fictional perspective, MUST BE “autistic” or “neurodivergent-coded,” that character is no longer relatable to people who don’t self-diagnose, or identify with, or are not diagnosed with, autism or anything on the neurodivergent spectrum.

I mean honestly I see you guys out here telling me that Mulan is neurodivergent, that ROZ from the Wild Robot is neurodivergent and gee, so is Brightbill, that Hiccup is neurodivergent and Ariel is autistic.

Ariel. The “girl next door” princess.

The whole point of characters, especially main characters, especially main characters in children’s media, is to be believable and relatable, on some level. If they’re all ‘special brain-different,’ they’re only relatable to people who accept that label or are given that diagnosis.

AND. It does a huge disservice to the storytelling techniques.

A story is supposed to get under the mental guard of a person. You’re supposed to take your hands off the “thought” wheel and your feet off the “emotion” pedals, and let the story drive your brain and heart to a new place. Or an old place you haven’t been in a while, or were forgetting.

One of the best ways to do that is to create a character that, on the surface, seems special and unrelatable. Like a girl living in the Imperial Dynasty of China, or a literal non-human robot. You can’t, on the surface, relate to them as easily, so you naturally start to think, “what would it be like to be seeing the world through these new eyes?” And then you’ve given up the wheel and pedals of your mind to the movie. You find yourself relating to concepts like motherhood and protectiveness, which the robot character is experiencing, but you’re looking at those concepts through new eyes.

That is why the character is a robot. Not so that she can be an allegory for your “special-undefined-perspective-on-life which is sometimes called neurodivergence.” She’s not a robot for that reason. She’s a robot because a robot character flips the “what would it be like to learn everything over again?” switch in your brain, and then the story can show you it’s focus, (like motherhood and kindness in The Wild Robot) after the switch is flipped.

and it’s flipped for everybody, (“neurodivergent” and “neurotypical”) not just people who identify as the vague term “neurodivergent,” or have been diagnosed as autistic. Stop fitting everything into vague-enough-to-be-claimed, but named-enough-to-be-a-special-identity boxes. You’re ruining the universal, unifying value of it all.

[unnaturalequilibrium]

Capítulo 2 & 3

- Mafin rewatch (Sueños de Libertad)

Watching the de la Reina siblings is a hoot. It's all so deliciously dysfunctional. Damian's three porcelain dolls, all dressed up and filled with generational trauma. How could that not be fun to watch?! I enjoy that Marta is the action oriented one of them. The boys bicker, but she refuses to play their game, instead tries for a solution and an action forward. It’s notable that both brothers turn to her as if her agreement, her word actually holds sway. They’re already making a point of this being a man’s world, but these men, even if it’s a means to play out each other, hang on her word and give it weight.

I’m kind of sad Jesús is such a right villain, because I enjoy him and Marta together. They play off each other well and you instantly get the nuances between them, making it super easy to envision how things were before Andrés return. The way they’ve kept that business afloat, probably stood side by side against their father on a number of occasions. I feel like they’ve kept each other alert, maybe a bit too guarded, but also with a sense of mutual respect despite all of the other muddled feelings of jealousy and resentment and old-fashioned sibling rivalry. In a world where Jesús wasn't such an evil man I think this could have been one of my favourite relationships on the show, if they'd taken the time to develop it more. Especially in the way she yields to him in the beginning and how her character growth comes into play later on.

Carmen is the boss you want to have before she’s even anyone’s boss. The way she is straightforward and stands up to Marta for her own and her fellow workers sake and safety. I wish she was my workplace Union rep. She’s such a competent lady and I'd gladly line up behind. But why throw fucking caveman Tasio around her neck like a noose I’ll never understand. Though I’m getting ahead of myself, or ahead of the show at least.

I mean seriously, what’s up with that opening credit?! Of all the characters, they get a two shot. In bed. The two of them who at this point in time have nothing to tie them together. A flimsy string of connection through fathers, through work. I wasn’t here from the start, but I assume they were shipped from day one? Granted by my arguing maybe Gaspar and Tasio should be shipped too, but at least those two aren't in bed together. And no, don't enlighten me if there are people who do ship them. Some things I'd rather go through life without knowing. This would be one of those.

Lol, Luz is so no-nonsense as she saves Damian's life. “Stop praying and let me stab him with a giant needle, you rich fools!”. Her and Begona sharing the medical field and a bit of empathy with each other is nice too. An ensemble cast that is balanced between men and women seldom leave room for a lot of female friendship, but this one does. I appreciate that.

Fina establishing from the very beginning what she thinks of men, and especially the fool ones like Carmen's deadbeat boyfriend. I feel you. And I am in love with the way she throughout all the episodes to date will be used as a way of voicing what the tired lesbian feminist in all of us wishes she could say, out loud.

If trolls exist, you know like proper giant ones, the kind that can be mistaken for a mountain, covered in moss and trees and then suddenly just opens its eyes and stands up to stretch. You know the kind of trolls you think of when listening to Grieg's In the Mountain King's Hall - yeah those. I imagine if they existed then they'd sound exactly like a sickly Don Damian, like a melodic stone avalanche. That said I’ve never envision mountain trolls to sound Spanish before now. But maybe that’s on me.

Joaquín is a bit of an ass, calling Fina (and the rest of them) lazy - my eyes are narrowed. It wasn’t actually something he developed when he got on my shitlist by flirting with the secretary while having a cute as a button wife or pointing a gun at Marta. Apparently the assery was a pre-existing condition. It’s interesting though that Luis is the one talking about taking over the company, yet he still comes off as the decent one of them.

“You don’t notice the boys?”- Petra, you blonde little snake, don’t call my Fina out like that. Maybe we're allowed to know she's a lesbian, but don't flaunt it in front of the entire canteen like that. It’s kind of funny though how Fina is so clear about Luis not being her type, yet there are so many common denominators between him and Marta both in personality and in physicality (except of course the most important one in this case, their sex).

I know he’s supposed to be one of the good guys, but honestly, Andrés is a bit of a douchebag, isn’t he?! Or maybe that's a bit harsh, but he comes across as pretty smarmy. He's like what the wall behind your stove would be if anthropomorphised, kind of greasy, kind of sticky and in constant need of being hosed down. But yay for not letting the roof drop on your employees, I guess.

[itissadbutitsmy-artblog]

big fan of the various species of Guards in adventure time. they all look exactly the same and theyll hit u with sticks man, watch out

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

Hey, no worries! I understand life gets in the way sometimes, haha. Sorry to hear you're feeling under the weather, Maia! ❤️‍🩹 But hey, always a good excuse to curl up and do a bit of reading, at least~

I love that there's a clone grapevine and no one is safe from it. From the shinies all the way up to Fox, everyone's going to hear about what they've done!

Yessss. I took a bit of inspiration from things my brother told our family about during his time in the service. They called their rumor mill the "PNN", or Private News Network. (I was 🤏this🤏close to calling it the 'Clone News Network' in the fic!) Using a rumor mill felt like the perfect way to start the fic and explain how Wolffe would have heard about what happened on Coruscant.

Some inspiration for meeting Fox in a diner was taken from @the-bad-batch-baroness's heart-aching and amazing Where's Mommy? series; the idea for it being Dex's Diner in particular came a bit later in the pipeline.

But it became the perfect setting the more research I put into this fic for so many reasons.

Canonically speaking [depending on the sources used], Dex's Diner made for a good meeting spot for criminals because Dex is welcoming and doesn't believe in intruding in other people's business. (He's also got his own criminal past, so, who's he to judge?) FLO promising Wolffe no one would know what he was there for was very deliberate. It essentially ensured the discussion would never disrupt or change canon.

Pointing out that Dex is a Besalisk would become the PERFECT way to bring up not just Pong Krell, but the other (in)famous instance that Fives had a blaster turned on him by his own brothers. (Something that, again using the C.N.N., Wolffe would have likely heard about at some point or another.)

FLO scanning Wolffe was not intended to be dystopian, but I completely understand why it reads that way! Somewhere in my research I did into the WA-7s said they had facial-recognition software to identify regular patrons. I felt that was something Wolffe would likely be aware of and would fit perfectly into his hypervigilant nature. (Which would make him more likely to reflect on the style of the diner and the way things change around him all the time!)

And the unease. Every little fact about Fives' death would have caused Wolffe unease no matter what. But put him somewhere that is not affiliated with the GAR (or the Jedi) in any way, and it will be the perfect breeding ground for doubt and uncertainty to grow unchecked if Wolffe isn't careful. Coupled with the fact he hasn't seen Fox in a while?

You're right that Fox would be able to tell just how shaken, how stressed out Wolffe would be over this, no matter how much time they've been apart, too. No matter how little time they've been given to work together.

Even if Fox was tired. And I mean really tired.

I imagine (headcanon?) that after killing Fives, Fox would have thrown himself hard into Guard-work in order to avoid dwelling [read as: second guessing] on his call he had to make that night. The order he was given by Palpatine amounted to "ARC trooper Fives is a fugitive. He's armed and dangerous." and he had to act on his own authority from that point. And we know the rest from there.

But we'll still say it was Palpatine who made that call, because he's easier to blame. (Between the chip and his training, Fox never truly had a choice.) The Chancellor certainly won't need to know why he can't get ahold of the Marshal Commander for an hour or two while he and Wolffe get that nap.

Force knows they need it.

Woof. This took a couple hours to write on-and-off because I had so much (sorry lmao!) I wanted to share about what went into this fic; and I am incredibly honored to hear that you enjoyed it not just once, but twice. That means a lot, truly. 🩷

Hey Frost 💙! Happy 200 Followers 🥳!!

For the event I would love to submit an idea! What about an angsty Wolffe confronting Fox after he shoots Fives 👀?

Congrats!

The Tragedy of Level 1325 [Commander Wolffe Fic]

Warnings and Information: Clones killing their own kin is always an awful occurrence, more often than not a rare and accidental thing. So when Commander Wolffe catches wind of what happened on Level 1325, he meets with the other canine-themed Commander to get answers. And none of them will be easy to get, or, to hear. Set after the Clone Wars season six episode “Orders”. Lots of angst and heavy stuff in this one, folks! Heavy references/allusions to Fives’ death. Heavy references/allusions to canon-typical death, violence and injury. Reference to Pong Krell. Star Wars and real-world swearing. Minimal Mando’a. Narrative and stylistic use of italics.  **This is not a cloneship/clonecest fic. Tag it as such and you will find yourself blocked.**

Word count: 4,287

How fast word travels in the GAR is both a blessing and burden. 

Regardless of the distance, time of day, or paint color, brothers will hear what the others have gotten up to in-between their conquest to defeat the Confederacy of Independent Systems. A rookie’s foolish notion to prank his superiors that ends with him earning himself a month’s worth of latrine duty. The terrible pick-up lines learned from holomags (and their success, or lack thereof) used on other patrons of 79’s. Brave charges lead out of killboxes and ambushes.

Clones turning on their own kin - that bitter pill was hard to stomach. 

Commander Wolffe found himself choking down one such pill upon hearing the events of the night before. 

It didn’t make a difference how many times he consulted the datafile in front of him, the mingling of horror and disbelief settled just as heavily in his heart each time. The primary commander of the Coruscant Guard had been the one behind the blaster used to end a Clone’s life on Level 1325, and it had not been an accident either. This was not another case of some sleemo stealing and wearing a Clone’s full kit; it had been, without question, a brother. 

Clones were less uniform than many nat-borns would like to believe. They may look the same from the texture of their hair, to their face-shape, and the warm-brown skin, but that’s often as far as the similarities go. They found their originality in names, speech-patterns, scarring, the way hair was cut (or bleached or dyed or styled), the addition and location of injected ink. There were the occasional (minor) aberrations, too, of course; like the brothers who ended up ocean-eyed, or blond. 

(They at least knew where the blondeness came from; a dormant echo in the genetics of the man who served as the master mold for the Grand Army.)

Not to mention the paint, and the patterns. The paint job was perhaps the biggest, most important piece of their individualism (at least externally). Those working in tandem with the soldiers relied quite heavily on the personalization to their second skins when first introduced. 

So when the datafile in Wolffe’s hands tells him the armor worn by the dead trooper was not his own, a sense of confusion as well as a wave of mild horror washes over the flint gray commander. The deceased was one of the 501st Legion’s cobalt crusaders, yet the ARC trooper had been killed in an unpainted, second skin that had been stolen from another. 

Why?

So many why-s.

When asking if his brother would agree to meet with him, it had taken some convincing. Fox’s agreement ultimately came with conditions, which were thankfully simple. Find somewhere in CoCo Town - as he was due to patrol that near that sector in a few hours time - and find some caf that didn’t taste like droid oil. 

There, Commander Fox would attempt to provide as many answers to Wolffe’s questions as he could. 

Though he couldn’t promise there’d be answers for all of them.

Entering the eighth eatery, Wolffe tries putting a little more trust in this diner’s advertising than each of the establishments he tried earlier. ‘Best food this side of the Senate District!’ A tagline like that would have to do a lot of heavy lifting for a greasy diner in a dilapidated industrial area. 

Inside, the diner has been furnished with several deep booths with shiny red seats as well as a long countertop that offers a glimpse into the kitchen through a narrow viewport. The decor is a mix of chrome and neon. While it’s perhaps not what Wolffe would call his favorite style, he had to give whoever ran the place credit for a cohesive, and constant, theme. 

This place looks like it hasn’t changed in years. Too often, Wolffe finds once-favorite establishments rehauling their menus, revamping the theme, gutting whatever charm the place had between his deployments. It’s a damn shame. Corsucant changes too quickly top-side; all of it fueled on someone else’s pursestrings, no doubt. 

Noticing his arrival, a WA-7 waitress droid, idly chatting with a pre-dawn client, pardons herself to welcome the prospective customer. Assuming he’ll be subjected to a facial recognition scan, Wolffe holds himself in near-militant attention until the droid speaks. 

“Welcome to Dex’s Diner! What can I get for you, hon?”

The first question he has for the waitress is the state of the diner’s caf. 

“Is your caf instant?”

The droid’s feminine programming and friendly inflection does its best to make up for an inability to smile. (He finds it a little unsettling all the same.)

“It’s brewed in-house, every hour on the hour.” 

Wolffe regards a small chronometer on the wall, displaying what his body-chrono already knows. Just a half-hour before dawn. Perfect. Depending on how far away Fox is, it shouldn’t take long for his vod to find his way here. Coruscant had been under the watchful eye and capable hand of the crimson commander very shortly after the start of the war; if anyone knew their way around this massive labyrinth of a planet, it would be Fox. 

“Good enough.” Wolffe says with a thankful nod. “Saves me the trouble of finding another place.”

“Looking for something to eat?”

“Not exactly. I’m supposed to meet with someone.” he explains, sending the name of the diner to Fox’s comlink while the WA-7’s back is to him, asking him to follow behind. She’s got just the spot for him. 

She shows Wolffe to a booth in the back-left corner, where he can already tell at a glance that the padding under the seat material is worn thin and unevenly. (Well, he’s sat in worse seats.) It’s secluded, just enough, that it should afford him and his brother a little more privacy. He unseals his helmet as quietly as he can to avoid disturbing the other patrons, and sets the sunbonnet down on the table. 

“Your business isn’t our business,” the droid promises to Wolffe’s great confusion as he works to seat himself as gracefully as possible with the kama, “so rest assured that whoever you’re meeting, we won’t tell a soul.” 

“Okay… I appreciate that.” 

Wolffe straightens out his modified phase two helmet on the tabletop, dismissing the waitress’s offer to get him something to start with while he waits. Glass of Jawa Juice, perhaps? It’s a house special. 

A mash of bantha hide and fermented grain so early in the morning doesn’t sound particularly appealing. 

“Nothing right now, thank you.”

The WA-7 nodded. “Suit yourself, hon. Give a holler when you’re ready.”

It wouldn’t be long from now. Fox had sown the seeds for a system the Corries called ‘Zeros and Fives’ when it came to meeting their vode for non-military matters. Seeking out Fox for answers wasn’t technically an emergency, but it should hopefully be treated with a little more urgency seeing as Wolffe couldn’t wait around all morning. With the General’s help, he had to fabricate time-sensitive duties to excuse his presence on Coruscant earlier than expected. 

Some poodoo about retrieving something-or-other under the General’s orders. Records of research from the Chief Librarian of the Jedi Archives, Jocasta Nu. 

Records of what kind of research, he wasn’t sure. 

That comes later. Now, he was waiting for Fox.  Wolffe checks his comlink for any response to his choice of locale, finding only a silent ‘Seen’ status. Well, he’ll take it to mean his vod won’t be waving down the suggestion.

With little more than his comlink and the datafile to keep him occupied, the flint gray commander settled in for what could end up being a long wait in the event Fox ran into trouble on patrol. How long he would end up waiting would be inconsequential, so long as he got answers and insight to the root of this tragedy. Something to rationalize the reality of losing brothers to something other than Separatists and their sympathizers. 

He just had to ask himself why he was doing this. Why he cared so much, what he hoped to find. Maybe even who he was doing all this for. 

Was it for Fox, hoping to get ahead of the inevitable boiling point the rumors might reach?

Was it for Captain Rex, finding some shred of information that may bring closure to the death of one of his best men?

Was it for Fives, given the death of an ARC trooper was no insignificant thing? Was he hoping to find reason, or just cause?

Or was it for his own morbid curiosity, given other details of the deceased’s service file?

Commander Wolffe couldn’t be certain until his brother was dragging his over-caffeinated carcass through the doors of the diner, and down to the last booth on the left. He couldn’t be certain Fox would be forthcoming with those answers, either. Or the state the other commander would be in. 

Fifteen minutes before the next hourly pot of caf is made, Fox shuffles into the diner, quiet and wordless. Not in the sense of stoicism; rather fatigue. Ignoring the greetings of the waitstaff, he walks himself down to the booth once he’s found Wolffe in his visor. Like his fellow commander, Fox’s helmet remains over his head until he reaches the table, at which point he unseals, and drops it with a dull thud half an inch over the table. 

“Good to see you, Fox.” Wolffe says.

That was a lie. Perhaps only partially. He wished if he was paying the crimson commander a visit here on Coruscant, it would have been under better circumstances. With better beverages as well. The last time Wolffe had seen his brother, he was promised a splash of spotchka and the opportunity to properly talk about the Abregado disaster when next they met. To mourn the loss of Wolffe’s men and the change to his armor. They started this war named after members of the Canidae and painted in beautiful shades of red. 

Now they were just a couple of canines. 

Fox makes no immediate greeting. With a tired grumble, he drops into the booth, a small betrayal to the tireless façade the Corries had come to be known for. 

“Sorry to make you wait,” he says at last, propping his elbows on the table as he begins rubbing one bleary eye, “Patrol took longer to button up than anticipated.”

“That’s fine.” Wolffe replied, just relieved the other canine commander was here. 

Doing her rounds, the same service droid as before approaches the brothers’ booth and asks if they’d like anything to eat while they conduct their business. (She doesn’t suggest Jawa Juice this time.) Wolffe takes her up on the offer for the freshest cups of caf that would be ready not too long from now. Just as the droid goes to send in the order to the back-of-house, she takes another look at Fox— currently in the process of falling asleep at the table —and thinks better of it. 

“... I’ll tell Dex to make it a carafe.”

When the caf is prepared, instead of sending it out with the service droid, FLO, Dex himself brings it out from the kitchen to the front-of-house. 

And Dex had certainly not been what Wolffe imagined him to look like. 

Standing roughly 1.88 meters tall by the commander’s estimation, the owner of the diner was a heavyset Beskalisk who wore an ill-fitting, heavily stained white shirt and apron that had certainly seen better days. Making use of the four arms in his possession, Dex carried the carafe with the lower set, and a pair of mugs in a third, upper hand. 

Wolffe hides any surfacing unease after meeting the owner’s eye by fixing Fox’s helmet beside his own to clear space on the table. He came here to question his brother about an ARC trooper’s death over a decent cup of caf; he didn’t expect to be reminded of someone who put his brothers of the GAR through a gruesome campaign on the lightless word of Umbara. 

A Force-wielding Besalisk named Pong Krell had tricked the 501st and 212th into turning their blasters on each other some time ago. His style of leadership was firm, his fighting form aggressive. Krell’s war record boasted several successes at the bloody cost of countless Clone casualties; the highest of any Jedi. Having been seduced by the allure of rising power, he betrayed the Order, the Republic, and weaponized the absolute loyalty of the men under his command. 

It would be Fives, Jesse, and Hardcase of the 501st’s bravest blue to defy orders and take stolen ships to cripple enemy forces. They proved successful, though only Fives and Jesse would return. Krell had tried to order their execution as a result of this disobedience. But brothers in blue and orange mutinied against the fallen Jedi, and attempted his arrest. Once they managed to capture him, Krell had been interrogated and his treasonous plot was brought into the light. 

Fives had been faced with the business end of a blaster at the hands of his own brothers twice. 

He only survived it once. 

Wolffe could only hope Fives’ mortal remains were being treated with far more respect than whatever had been afforded to Krell. 

One thing was soon clear at least, the longer the diner’s owner was working to serve them the fresh caf: Dex was nothing like Krell, save for being a Besalisk. 

Dex was far kinder, friendlier. 

He first poured out a generous portion for Wolffe, chuckling warmly as he spoke. “You’ll want to be careful, gentlemen. Quite hot. Should do a fine job of perking you right up, though!” Wolffe was sure to thank Dex before carefully kicking his brother’s boot under the table to stir him. Fox hadn’t fallen asleep, but he certainly was heading in that direction the longer he sat in the booth. 

Tiredly scrubbing a hand over his face in an effort to wake up, Fox took hold of the mug that had been carefully pushed in his direction by the four-armed cook. 

“Thanks…”

“Don’t mention it! Matter of fact, I’ll leave the rest with you two and let you get about your business.” Dex carefully set the metal carafe on the tabletop and lumbered back into the kitchen, as promised. 

Together, the commanders would take their first sampling of the diner’s caf; Wolffe found it of decent quality, nothing more. There was nothing special that set it apart from other diners, but it was a step above the instant powder in his and his men’s rations. 

Fox on the other hand drank like the caf was no milder than water. Maker. That couldn’t be healthy. Once the mug had been lowered for a suitable amount of time, Wolffe voiced the first of his concerns. 

“When’s the last time you slept, vod?”

With a heavy exhale, Fox set down the mug and leaned against the backrest. “Same time as the rest of Coruscant.” he said, too focused on the patternless web of scratches in the table to see the displeased furrowing of his brother’s brow. 

“Coruscant never sleeps. Are you telling me you’re running on empty?”

“No. I just don’t remember, cub.” 

Wolffe grit his teeth, full lips pursing as his displeasure deepened. This was no time for the kit-and-cub routine they had developed fresh off Kamino, possessing a curiously bright-eyed quality that would be lost before long. This was serious. All of this was serious, and Fox is choosing now to be sarcastic and apathetic with him?

He has to stop and take a measured breath before acting on any kind of anger. Should he be short with Fox, Wolffe’s opportunity to get sensible answers might slip between his fingers. So instead, he nurses his mug of caf before saything or asking anything else. Maybe it’ll help him hold on to his tether a little longer if he combats his own budding fatigue. Crossing several galactic timezones in order to get to the heart of the Republic could make even the most tireless of men weary. 

Settled, Wolffe begins again. “What do you remember about last night?” A glance is cast over their helmets; the thought of scrubbing through helmet footage flickers in his mind. 

“Might need to be more specific,” Fox replies, wantonly tracing the rim of his mug with his forefinger. “What part of last night are you asking about?”

“The part that ended with a dead ARC trooper.”

For a moment, the other commander remained unnaturally still, and equally quiet. Now that the reason behind the visit Wolffe was paying him had been revealed, Fox felt the atmosphere of the diner tangibly shift. So that’s what this visit Wolffe was paying him was about. He was aware from the beginning Wolffe was coming all the way to Triple Zero to question him; not the subject matter of these questions. 

It was time to establish a baseline for the brothers. 

“What have you heard?”

Propping up the datafile, Wolffe presents the timeline as he understands it. 

Alongside the Kaminoan Nala Se and General Shaak Ti, ARC trooper Fives had traveled to Coruscant from the Clone homeworld and met with Chancellor Palpatine at the Grand Republic Medical Facility. Shortly upon their arrival, Fives presented a potential Separatist plot that he believed responsible for the death of a trooper by the name of Tup to General Ti, the Chief Medical Scientist, and Palpatine. Agreeing to hear him out, Fives was granted limited audience with the Chancellor. 

Per protocol, shock troopers and the Red Guard remained in the room when Palpatine requested to speak “alone” with Fives. This meant when the Chancellor was suddenly attacked, the response was almost immediate. 

Under threat of apprehension, Fives would escape the Medical Facility, and remain unaccounted for for some time before making contact with a member of Torrent Company - namely their medic, Kix. Coordinates would be given to a location on Level 1325 with the request General Skywalker and Captain Rex meet him there, as soon as possible, and importantly, alone. His commanding officers would go to Hangar 18 in Sector I-9, where Fives had been spotted by a probe droid, and find themselves caught in a ray shield. 

While effectively at his mercy, Fives would tell his commanding officers he had been set up, framed, before the arrival of the Corries. 

“Did you hear anything Fives might have said when you arrived with the Guard?”

Fox, just about to take a drink, paused. “Not everything.” Once they had made it inside the warehouse, he and his men were more concerned with finding safe cover before moving into action.

A minor tell of annoyance, the twitching of the scarred brow over his brother’s cybernetic eye, did not go unnoticed by the red commander. 

“Obviously. But what did you hear?”

“General Skywalker questioned why his ARC trooper believed the Chancellor was capable of orchestrating this… Separatist plot when an assassination attempt had failed. Said the Chancellor was incapable, though his soldier insisted.” Fox replied, considering the dregs in his mug for the moment before pouring himself another serving.

“At what point did you step in?”

Not long after, his vod tells him. 

“His back was to us. Didn’t see us draw our DeeCees.”

“Why didn’t you stun him?” Wolffe nearly demands. 

Fives had been declared a fugitive, the commander understood that. When he had taken part in the manhunt for Ahsoka Tano following the declaration of her own fugitive status following the bombing of the Jedi Temple and death of a suspect, Letta Turmond, it had been under orders. Tano had been a dear friend to General Plo; the Kel Dor often spoke so kindly of her… she had saved his life in the aftermath of Abregado.

But given the evidence at the time, he believed she was the primary suspect behind the blast that had killed Clones, maintenance workers and six Jedi, and left many more injured. A belief that would be buried once he heard General Skywalker had found and brought the true perpetrator before those who put the Togruta on trial. Firing upon someone he cared about, in his own fashion, while she was dazed and unarmed, would be the last time Wolffe ever saw Tano. 

The guilt still gnaws at him.

Maybe if they had taken Fives alive, the real perpetrator could have been discovered. Like Barriss Offee had been.

“Why,” he repeats himself, determined to break Fox’s continued silence, “Tell me why, Fox.”

“We didn’t exactly have much of a choice, Wolffe. I ordered him to stand down, warned him not to do it; but he drew a nearby weapon. He was acting erratically.”

Fox had to make a split-second decision with highly volatile variables at play; the way he had been trained. The way both of them had been trained. Trained to make the tough calls that came with the lofty status as Marshal Commanders, before Wolffe had been stripped of such a rank. Robbed of the red. 

It would be replaced with gray, to honor and remember the dead. 

The innumerable, tragic dead. 

Try as they might, the Kaminoans could never hope to train the sting of a brother’s tragic death out of the men of the GAR. 

Following a break to use the diner’s refreshers and collect themselves, the commanders return to the table, making use of limited time before Wolffe is supposed to act upon new military-wide orders from General Plo. 

“What orders?” Fox asks, brow pinched in confusion. 

He hadn’t seen any such notification. Just a report from Thire and Thorn that more surveillance footage had been acquired of the events from last night; they now had an answer for how ARC trooper Fives avoided the shock troopers checking IDs in the Clone bar. A damn hat given to him by a corporal from another unit, of all things. 

“I’m supposed to report to the nearest Republic med center to receive some kind of vaccination. For a parasite.” 

Continuing to read the message on his comlink, Wolffe learns soldiers on other planets will need to await the arrival of the inoculation that was being mass-produced to protect every Clone, whether their deployment was peaceful, or on the front lines. 

“They… think some kind of rare parasite native to Ringo Vinda was responsible for what happened to Tup. For the behavior Fives displayed before you-” 

Something about this didn’t feel quite right. 

This answer was too convenient. How was it possible that a parasite was missed by the Chief Medical Scientist during Tup’s thorough examination on Kamino, but discovered by the Chancellor’s personal doctors in a rushed autopsy? (They had been thorough, right?) How did invasive organisms cause these “aggression inhibitors” to decay? How many more men of the 501st Legion were potentially infected, and how did the organism spread? Something about this wasn’t adding up. 

Maybe by asking the shock troopers who had been present during the conversation Fives had with the Chancellor, he could find something they missed; maybe they had heard something-

“ -ffe. Wolffe,” 

Failing to get the flint-gray commander’s attention, Fox has reached across the table and taken hold of his hand just as he finds it beginning to tremble. Minor stress tremors such as these have plagued him since the ill-fated naval battle, though they’ve been dormant for a long time with a combination of strict rest and discipline. And typically, they’re almost unnoticeable. 

But Fox has always had sharp eyes with even sharper ears. 

“When’s the last time you slept?”

A slow burning behind his eyes—the feeling stronger on the right—served as an uncomfortable reminder that he had been unable to find much meaningful rest after hearing what happened in Coruscant’s sub-levels. Another brother’s tragic, untimely death. Resisting the urge to rub his eyes and rid himself of the discomfort, Wolffe instead returns the steady squeeze rather than pulling away. 

Voice soft, he heaves a quiet sigh. 

“Not recently enough, kit.”

Perhaps it was his own fatigue that had him jumping to absurd conclusions. The demise of an elite ARC trooper had reminded him of his own heavy losses, and his composure was beginning to suffer for it. That was unacceptable. He needed to sleep. Both of them needed to sleep. 

But more importantly, Wolffe needed to leave. He had a set time to arrive at the med center by, and it would be imprudent to be late. Gathering the datafile, his comlink, and his helmet, Wolffe took one last gulp of caf before standing to bid his brother farewell. 

Then, he had an idea. 

“Maybe… after I’ve gotten the inoculation, we should both crash in your quarters for an hour if you’ve still got that shitty old couch stuffed in there since the last time I saw you.”

Fox chuckled, a lazy smirk settling over his features. 

“It’s still there and shitter than ever,” the crimson commander promised, “Been too busy to remove it.”

Wolffe resealed his helmet so Fox wouldn’t see the grim smile, one grateful for the meager space to sleep and troubled by the responsibilities his brother has had to shoulder that have kept him so busy, he can’t rearrange a stained sofa. 

It was no wonder Fox was sporting some silver around his temples prematurely. It probably wouldn’t be long before Wolffe’s own raven-dark hair did the same, given his own burdens and losses. This war would make old dogs out of both of them. 

Assuming they lived long enough to see the supposed end of it. After all, only the dead will ever see the true end of war. 

And that was a tragedy for the living.

Thank you for making such a uniquely heart-breaking request for this event Maia; I hope I did these canine commanders justice and made it appropriately angsty enough. I hope you enjoyed! 🩷

Fic taglist: @anxiouspineapple99 @dukeoftheblackstar @dystopicjumpsuit @msmeredithrose @lonely-day3636

[Masterlist] [TCW Masterlist] [Taglist] [Requests: OPEN]

[izzystizzys]

TW: discussion of something approximating suicidal tendencies but with the usual crack programming of this blog

“Ah, High General Windu”, says Fox, pleasantly. “So we meet again.”

High General Windu raises an unimpressed eyebrow at him, Fox thinks, though it’s getting hard to tell with all the blood rushing to his head. “If I let you go, will you try to throw yourself out of another window?”

Fox makes a vague shrugging motion - or tries to, anyways. It’s hard to tell where any of his limbs are going, hanging upside down in the air as he is. “I am willing to discuss terms.” A bridge will do just fine.

Impossibly, the High General’s eyebrows climb even further up his forehead. “A compromise, then, esteemed Commander.” And so, he righths Fox the head way up in the air, but leaves him floating just above the ground, at which point several painted shells come skidding around the corner followed by billowing robes and screeches.

“WHAT”, says Kote, calmly, “THE BANTHA-KARKED, FORCE-LOVING KRIFF, FOX.”

“You’ll short out your helmet mic”, Fox advises him, sagely. Fondly, he thinks back to decimating his own on only his second time in the newly-christened official Coruscant Guard Scream Closet. He’d just received the comm about the Zillo Beast being transported to 000, and made sure to take his bucket off thereafter to improve the quality of his closet time.

High General Windu’s face does something complicated between sympathy and constipation.

Because the Galaxy doesn’t hate Fox enough already and Cody wasn’t enough on his own, Wolffe elbows his way through their batch to plant himself in front of him, shoulders squared and shaking with repressed rage. “If you try that again, dickhead”, he begins, in a low growl that quite frankly sounds more cringe that intimidating, “I’m going to resurrect you and then kill you again.”

“Ah, Wolffe”, Plo Koon says, in his deep, shivery timbre, “Remember our conversations about effective conflict resolution and communication of needs?”

Wolffe’s eyes narrow at Fox, because all non-Guard are sweet summer children who walk around buckets off on 000 like absolute lunatics. Fox prays they never have to find out why that’s a bad idea. “I feel”, his ori’vod presses out between clenched teeth, “that if you make me watch you throw yourself out of another window, I’m going to jump after you and strangle you on the way down, you little bitch.”

“That’s fair”, says Fox, and watches High General Kenobi bury his face in his hands. Wolffe twitches in place and makes an aborted groaning noise, the hypocrite.

“Excuse me, High Marshall Commander Fox, but I fail to see what’s so dire about this situation that the Jedi High Council and your brothers cannot help you solve”, says Windu, the only sane one left on this Force-forsaken bloated corpse of a planet. Behind the gaggle of Jedi and ori’vode already gathered in front of Fox, the rest of them come veering around the corner in a commotion that’s quite frankly embarrassing. High General Yoda is mounted on Skywalker’s back like he’s a race-Eopie, which is Fox’ only consolation.

He got up this morning at 0300, bleary-eyed and with a pounding headache as always, and all was right in the world. And then Fox got called into the Jedi High Council’s chambers and was ceremoniously informed that in the wake of Chancellor Palpatine’s unfortunate demise (hah), and through the emergency state of the Senate, as well as several invented promotions foisted on Fox to make the delegation of any and all paperwork less shady, he was now next in the chain of command and-

Well, Fox is the acting Chancellor, in short.

Haha, he had said, and been meet with several seconds of silence, until it got both awkward and exceedingly painful. Wait, he’d said. You’re kriffing serious.

Kriffing serious, we are, had said High General Yoda, and thus Fox launched himself out the first best window with a maniacal cackle of, you’ll have to catch me first!

And catch him, High General Windu sure did.

“The will of the Force this is”, Yoda interrupts Fox’ train of thought. He scans him thoughtfully from beneath his wizened brow, and hems to himself. “Shake things up, this will. Determine the fate of the Galaxy, this shall. A feeling, I have, that a good Chancellor you will make. A better one, hmmm.”

“That’d be high praise, if not for the fact that a dead lemming would make for a better Chancellor than the last one”, says Fox, drawing and indignant gasp from Skywalker. He doesn’t bother with either that or the green goblin’s cackle, lost in the deep sense of resignation that settles over his shoulders like a suffocating blanket.

“Alright, then, get me Thorn on the comm. As my first act in office, I’m firing all the Jedi. No offense, but you’re kind of a disaster. Then, someone get me to the Chancellor’s office, I’m calling Dooku to let him know the war’s off. And please get me Judicial, they’ll be up all night working on my datafolders - I’m having the Senate arrested.”

“Who - is - arresting - “, Bly pants, hands on his knees from where he’s just come sprinting around the corner with his Jedi.

Underneath his bucket, Fox smiles a smile that’s all teeth. “The Senate”, he says, sweetly, wondering if he’s just imagined the shiver that’s gone through the room. “I’m suing the Senate, and taking them all into temporary custody for abuse of sentient rights.”

[worstloki]

there is a difference between being born to a throne, maliciously vying for a throne, stealing a throne, and having a throne thrust upon you when you are already in the midst of an identity crisis. And I fear Loki's place in the line of succession has people unable to differentiate between any of these

[wutheringmights]

If spirit and mask get stuck in warriors' hyrule forever, is it forever-forever, or do they get to go home after lu? Both options seem sad, but I'm trying to image them going home after giving up on the possibility and trying to build a new life, and I am making myself sad

I was thinking forever-forever.

That idea started because I was imagining a scenario where the Chain (CTB chain or this AU chain) ended up in this version of Warriors's era and meet Warriors, Spirit, and Mask (specifically, I was imagining them showing up in the middle of one of Spirit's abductions). So it would need to be in the present day, which would mean they would have to stay.

And yeah, it is sad. Mask would take it as a sign that the universe is out to ruin his life, but he would eventually cope with his lot in life. This mean he would be about 15 years old in the present day. Warriors is trying to force him to go to school and at least be literate before running off again. He is also subtly trying to push him into formally becoming a squire in the Knights of Hyrule with Linkle so that someone (Lincoln) can keep an eye on him.

Oh yeah. If they end up staying, they get their house in Castle Town. It's a town house that is in a nice part of town, but not aristocratic. Firmly middle class. I have a lot of ideas about how Warriors can afford this, but I won't go too deep into his finances. Just know that he has a job in the Royal Guard still, has a hefty pension, some money from the Waltons, and some debt to Impa. He wants to transition out of the Royal Guard and into government work, but he's meeting some resistance. He's calmed down a lot, and his ambition is solely motivated by a desire to make his family comfortable.

Spirit, though... Spirit becomes depressed. He always thought he would go home. And to suddenly lose that life line-- he's crushed. But Spirit is Spirit, and he is the only one making trains in this era. So he throws himself into his work and becomes a massive workaholic. With Ganondorf as his secret investor, he's very successful and is actually making bank.

But with Spirit and Mask stuck in this era, Warriors's fear that he would be abandoned vanishes. They'll be here forever. He'll be okay. So he pulls back significantly and starts tending to other things. This would make Spirit super insecure. He only has Warriors and Mask left, and now Warriors is pulling back? Absolutely not.

So Spirit becomes way more clingy/codependent on Warriors as a weird coping mechanism. He needs therapy, but of course, that won't happen any time soon.

[ninellecantpaint]

I just love the mental gymnastics here. We're not fans of tom cruise or jon travolta or any of the people you've mentioned. To be honest, I don't give two shits about these people, but if one of them replaced a singer in a band I love I'd probably be upset. I don't "boycott" LP, but I'm allowed to disingage with their content for the time being. Even if I liked the new songs from the artistic standpoint, I still wouldn't support Emily Armstrong, one doesn't exclude the other.

Now, personally, I don't hate Emily, I simply don't favour her and don't agree with the band's decision. But I understand the anger of people who went through some traumatic shit and are hurt by the actions of the band that at one point saved them. So why are we, people who express their dissatisfaction on a private discord server (because all criticism is banned on official servers and subreddit) get people infiltrating OUR space, harrassing and s*icide baiting us if we're the ones in the wrong? We don't go around doing the same to random Emily stans??

The thing is, these are powerful and rich people who are perfectly able to confront consecuences of their actions and criticism head-on. They don't need guard dogs to fervently defend them, they don't need people babying them. There's a power dynamic here and if you're not able to see it, then, well, too bad.

It's called music "business" for a reason.

You have no right to call yourself a solider given you're okay with people who cover up rape and CSA.

Hi! First off, thanks for being my first hate anon! Second, I never said I did! Sorry for the confusion! Do you have evidence that Emily did commit these crimes? if so, you should report her to the authorities, thank you for coming forward with the necessary evidence! Or is it that the cult she was involuntarily born into commit said crimes? By that logic, all Catholics and Christians are evil for the crimes the church allows their priests to get away with. How many Tom Cruise, or Jon Travolta movies will you protest just like you protest Emily? After all, Tom Cruise has outright said on multiple occasions that he doesn’t believe in mental health! What about Elisabeth Moss, the star of Handmaid’s Tale, she is a vocal supporter of the cult.

If Emily has left the cult, she can’t talk about it, doing so would mean not only losing all her family and her friends still in the cult as well as a threat to her life and those around her. Until you yourself can say with 100% confidence that you could make that choice, you have no right to criticize her.

Hope this helps! If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to watch their Paris show, they preformed today and they did a live debut of Over Each Other!

[thunderheadfred]

me and Yogurt staring out the window at some BIRD DRAMA tonight

[torchickentacos]

[eway]

Here. It’s not great but I was craving a Puyo Puyo kidnapping fic with one of my favs as the victim and couldn’t find any so I started writing

School had just gotten out. Klug left immediately. Lemres was in town and he wasn't gonna miss him! The man was practically an older brother to him! Making his way through Primp Town, he finally encountered Lemres.

“LEMRES!” Klug called out.

“He-llo Klug. Want some candy?” Lemres said, offering the boy some candy.

“Sure. After that, if you have time, may I show you what I've learned from my studies?” Klug asked.

“Sure. What are you studying right now?” Lemres asked. Before Klug could tell him, Feli showed up. And before long, a fight broke out. He watched the two puyo battle, sighing. He wished they could get along. He cared about them both. In the end, Feli won.

“Alright Feli, I think that's enough.” Lemres said, trying to keep Feli from commiting a crime. “Klug, how about you show me what you've learned tomorrow? I can even teach you some new things.”

Klug nodded happily.

“Of course!” He said, and ran off, excited that he could show off to Lemres tomorrow.

Lemres was on his way home. After finally managing to make Feli go home, he made his way to where he stayed. He sat down on the couch, until he noticed someone in his room.

“There you are.” Schezo said. Lemres panicked and cast a spell. Schezo dodged.

“What are you doing here?” Lemres asked, regaining his composure.

“So it's alright for you to enter my home, attack me, and eat my hard earned cake, but when I simply enter your home and do nothing but wait, you attack me?” Schezo asked.

“Oh come on, my lessons were helpful.” Lemres chuckled.

“That's besides the point!” Schezo yelled. Lemres chuckled.

“Alright, alright. What brings you here?” Lemres asked.

“I sensed certain magic signatures. They were a lot like yours, however they were darker.” Schezo explained.

Lemres immediately became serious.

“Where are they?” He asked.

“Huh?!” Schezo said, surprised. “Do you know them?”

“You have your secrets, I have mine.” Lemres simply said. Schezo understood. There were things he didn't want to share, things about his past.

“I sensed them pass by my cave. I didn't leave until a few hours ago when I came here.” Schezo explained.

“Ok. Hey Schezo? Why don't you stay here for the night?” Lemres asked. He looked worried.

“Do you think I can't handle myself against whatever this is!?” Schezo yelled, getting defensive.

“It's not that…I don't doubt you. Doesn't mean I'm not concerned.” Lemres said.

“If it will ease your worries, I shall stay.” Schezo said. And so, Schezo stayed the night.

The next day, Lemres was on guard. Primp Magic Academy was still in session, so right now it was just him and Feli.

“Senpai…something troubles you…” Feli said.

“Huh? Oh, don't worry about it.” Lemres said. He didn't want her mixed up in this.

“Why won't you tell me?” She said. “Is someone trying to hurt you? I'll • make • them • pay!”

Lemres immediately backed up, seeing her so worked up.

“N-no! It's not like that!” He said. But…she was probably right if that magic Schezo sensed belonged to who he thought it did. Feli closed her eyes.

“I see.” She said.

“Here, how about a candy?” Lemres asked. Feli gasped.

“For me? Thank you!” Feli said, blushing. It wasn't all that serious. Still, he was concerned. And though he may regret it he said, “Feli? Could you stay with me for a while? I-”

“Yes! Yes of course!” Feli said. Yeah he was gonna regret this.

Class let out. Klug left the school, on his way to meet with Lemres, when he saw someone. She was older, and looked kinda familiar. On one hand, he needed to meet Lemres. On the other hand, if a suspicious person was lurking about the school grounds, obviously a talented mage like himself should do something about it.

“Excuse me!” Klug said, clearing his throat.

“Oh, I’m sorry young…man…” the woman's eyes narrowed to the Tome Of Sealing Klug carried with him. “Where did you get that book?”

Klug pushed up his glasses. “Jealous? This book is quite powerful.” He bragged.

“I see.” She replied.

“Now, what are you doing here!?” He demanded.

“I am searching for a man named Lemres.” The woman said.

“Really? You're looking for the great Lemres? As it happens, I am about to meet up with him!” Klug said, before he started laughing. The woman smirked.

“You know Lemres?” The woman asked.

“Hmpf, why of course I do! He’s been helping me learn magic. One day, I’m sure I'll surpass him.” Klug said smugly.

“In other words, you're his protégé...” The woman said to herself.

“Precisely!” Klug said.

Klug didn't notice the woman smile to herself. She came in search of the Comet Warlock. But she may have just found something better for her purposes.

Lemres was getting worried. Klug was late. It had been almost an hour. Feli was still glued to his side. Still, he was worried. What if something happened to Klug? Well, they grew up in the same town, so maybe he'd recognize the danger? But it had been so long…

“Hi Lemres!” A girl said. It was Amitie, with Sig behind her. He didn't look too happy to see the warlock.

“Why he~llo there, you two! Would you like some candy?” Lemres said.

“Not right now. Hey, there was this weird woman outside of school. Dunno what that was about. You got any idea? Sig saw her while bug hunting during recess. Got kinda worried heheh.” Amitie said.

“A weird woman?” Lemres said, Feli catching onto how worried he was.

“Yeah. We've been asking around, but no one recognized her.” Amitie said. Now Lemres was worried.

“I don't know. Hey, have you seen Klug? He was supposed to meet me an hour ago.” Lemres said.

“No, but now I'm worried. You don't think something happened to him, do you?” Amitie asked. Lemres didn't answer.

“Um, ok! Don't worry, we'll help you look! Right Sig?” Amitie asked. Sig nodded. And thus the group began to search.

Klug started to wake up. He remembered talking to a woman, then leaving to go see Lemres, and then feeling tired and then nothing. Then he noticed he couldn't see anything. There was a blindfold beneath his glasses. He tried to pull it off but his hands were shackled behind him, and his feet were tied to the chair he just realized he was sitting in. He tried to call out but there was a cloth in his mouth. He tried to use his magic to break his binds but it wasn't working why wasn't it-

“It seems you're finally awake.” The woman's voice said. He instinctively looked around despite being unable to see. Klug didn't know where the voice was coming from.

“Don't bother with your magic, those shackles are enchanted. No one wearing them can use magic at all.” She said. He tried to speak but couldn't. Then he felt something cold, metallic, sharp, pressed on his neck. Klug froze, his heart racing. One wrong move and... The woman laughed a little as he started to cry. She slightly pushed it into his neck, eliciting a whimper of pain and fear. Satisfied, she pulled the object away and took the blindfold off of Klug. He took in his surroundings. A dark room, like a cell. No windows, stone walls on all sides save one, which had a door and bars going both vertical and horizontal. There was a table in the back, and he couldn't tell what was on it, but some of the things were sharp. And standing in front of him was the woman from school, holding a knife.

“So, you're the person my son chose to be his protégé? Cute.” The woman said, placing the knife on the table and looking at the other instruments on it. Then Klug finally recognized her. The matriarch of Lemres’ family. Powerful and cruel Dark Mages who Lemres ran away from when he was younger.

“Mph?” Klug tried to say something but that was what came out. The woman took the gag off.

“W-what do you want with me?” He asked, trying his best to look brave. But right now he was scared. Very scared.

“My son betrayed this family when he ran away. Our only heir abandoned us. So we decided to find him, let him know he couldn't get away with doing that to us.” She bent down to meet her prisoner at eye level. “And then you revealed your connection to him. A little protégé! A child! We can get to him through you, little one.”

“W-well, Lemres will save me if I don't escape first!” He said confidently, though his cracking voice and tears gave his fear away. She smirked, grabbing his chin to make him look at her. He tried to pull away but couldn't. He was completely helpless, and she knew it.

That's when the woman grabbed Klug's phone.

“Why don't we give your mentor a call?”

Lemres and the kids left the library. He had given up trying to call Klug awhile ago. But then his phone rang.

“Its Klug! Answer it!” Amitie said, looking at the phone. Lemres answered.

“Hey Klug-” Lemres began but was cut off.

“I'm sorry. Klug is a bit…tied up at the moment.” The woman at the other end said as she smirked at the terrified boy. Lemres paled.

“Senpai? Is something wrong?” Feli asked, noticing his expression change.

“You never told us you had a protégé. He’s adorable!” Lemres’ mother said tauntingly.

“Let me talk to him.” Lemres said.

“Wait what's going on?” Amitie asked. Lemres ignored her. On the other hand, the woman walked over to Klug and turned the phone to speaker.

“Lemres?” He asked.

“Klug! Are you ok? Are you hurt?” Lemres asked, far more worried than any of the kids with him had ever seen him.

“I-I'm fine.” He said, but he clearly wasn't.

“Can you tell me where you are?” Lemres asked.

“U-um. I-I…” he hesitated.

“I'll get you out of there, just hold on.” Lemres said, as the three kids were confused.

He heard his mother taking the phone.

“Whats your plan?" he said.

“My plan? Well, originally I was going to find you. You know how much it hurt for you to abandon us.” she said, pouting. “But now, he can suffer the punishment for your betrayal.” She replied. Klug's breathing increased. What was she going to do to him?!

“He has nothing to do with that! Let him go!” Lemres yelled.

“Wait, was he kidnapped or something!? Lemres what's going on!?” Amitie yelled. Lemres was acting really out of character.

Lemres ignored her as he heard what sounded like electricity and a cry of pain.

“You are in no position to be making demands.” His mother said, as she walked over the boy. His skin burned from the electricity before the tip of a knife lifted his chin. “His life is in my hands. So watch your words.”

Lemres stayed silent, hearing the boy he saw as a brother try his hardest not to cry.

“Now, you want him back, right?” She asked, putting down the knife, causing Klug to sigh in relief.

“Of course I do.” Lemres replied.

“The day after tomorrow, you’ll get an address. Come there alone. You’ll find him there.” She said.

“Unharmed?” Lemres asked even though he knew the answer was no, making the kids panic MORE

“Hm…it's a bit late for that. But I can assure you, he will be alive when you find him.” She said.

“And if I don't come alone?” Lemres asked.

“Then I’ll make sure his body isn't even recognizable.” She said. Klug struggled again, his legs suffering from rope burn.

“I'll be there.” He said.

“Good boy. Now if you'll excuse me, I have something to take care of.” She replied, hanging up. Klug stayed silent. She went over to the table.

“What to do first…” She mused. Klug tried to escape as she walked over to him and gagged him once more.

“Shhhh… Save your voice, ok little one?” She said, getting to eye level again. Then she went to get the knife. A shiver went up his spine. He cried but it was so muffled. He trembled and could barely keep still. His captor smiled. This was going to be fun for her…

“Lemres, what happened?” Amitie asked.

“Its nothing. But I need to go.” Lemres said with an unconvincing smile.

“Don't lie.” Sig said.

“You look worried! Like really scared! A-and who was that? Was Klug kidnapped?!” Amitie asked. Lemres needed to calm them down. He couldn't get more people involved.

I also repurposed a Puyotober entry into an episode for one of your Puyo TV series:

"Sibling Rivalry" (original: Let's Puyo Battle)

The battlefield was silent as the audience waited for the upcoming battle.

Lidelle's classmates and associates had different ways of showing concern, with Ringo, Draco, Amitie, and Tarutaru being the most blatant, and Raffina, Lemres, Sig and Feli being the most subtle.

The battle was to last until two victories were obtained by either competitor.

"Are you ready to face the Dark Prince, young lady?" Satan asked.

"Y-y-yes..." Lidelle said, both scared and nervous.

"Good. Remember... it's just a game..." Was he encouraging her or scaring her?

Lidelle took a deep breath, her heart racing. She had watched many battles before, but this time, she was the one in the spotlight. The crowd murmured in anticipation, and the vibrant colors of the Puyo shapes danced in her mind.

"Begin!" Maguro announced, and the arena erupted in a flurry of movement.

Lidelle quickly scanned her side of the board, her fingers deftly moving as she connected Puyos of the same color. The familiar thrill surged through her as the first chain reaction sparked, sending a cascade of colorful blobs flying into Satan’s territory.

He countered with a series of rapid placements, forming an intricate setup that threatened to overwhelm her.

As the round progressed, Lidelle struggled to keep up. Puyos began piling up on her side, and despite her best efforts, she couldn’t find a way to break through his defenses. In a matter of moments, she was pelted by Garbage Puyo, with a few of them severing her hair ties, loosening her hair and exposing her horns, embarrassing her further. The scoreboard flashed: Satan Wins!

Lidelle's heart sank. The crowd (minus Lidelle's friends) cheered for Satan, and Lidelle couldn't shake off potentially disappointing everyone she loved.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get him next time!” Tarutaru called out, his voice full of encouragement.

As the second round began, the tension in the air thickened. Lidelle took a deep breath, focusing on her board and remembering the support of her friends. This time, she was determined to turn the tide.

The match started, and Lidelle’s sleeves flew over her board, strategically placing Puyos with newfound (but miniscule) confidence. As she built up her combos, the crowd's cheers became a motivating backdrop.

With each successful chain, she felt the weight of the first loss lifting. 'This is it!' she thought, channeling her focus.

Satan, sensing her new-found determination, ramped up his game. He executed a series of impressive moves, but Lidelle was ready. She countered with a stunning chain reaction of her own—a series of cascading Puyos that lit up the arena.

"Surprise!" she exclaimed, watching as a flood of Garbage Puyos overwhelmed Satan's board.

The scoreboard flashed again—Lidelle Wins! The crowd erupted into cheers, and Lidelle's heart soared with triumph.

“I did it!” she laughed, her excitement bubbling over.

Satan, caught off guard, smirked despite the loss. "Looks like you’ve improved! But I’m not finished yet!"

As Match Point began, the tension in the air thickened. Lidelle felt a lot of anxiety, knowing that this round could change everything.

With each Puyo she dropped, Lidelle remembered the training sessions, the laughter shared with her friends, and the unwavering support from her best friend, Tarutaru. She wasn’t just fighting for herself; she was fighting for everyone who believed in her.

The battle raged on, both competitors showcasing their skills and strategy. But just when it seemed Satan might turn the tide, Lidelle executed a stunning move—a chain of four, followed by a cascade that sent a shower of Puyos crashing down onto Satan’s side.

Satan stared, momentarily stunned. "What?! How did you—"

"Don’t underestimate me!" Lidelle shouted through her shy blushing, exhilaration pouring through her as victory became within reach.

With a final flurry of Puyos, Lidelle achieved her second win, and the arena exploded with cheers. She stood there, panting but triumphant, as Draco rushed forward to congratulate her.

"You kicked his butt, little sis!" Draco celebrated.

"Hehe, thanks, big sister," Lidelle said.

Lidelle's classmates, as well as Lemres and Feli, soon followed.

"You did it, Lidelle!" Amitie shouted.

"Congratulations, Ms. Lidelle!" Raffina said.

"Yay..." Sig said flatly. Even if he sounded out of it, Lidelle knew he was genuine.

"I must admit, you defied the odds," Klug stated.

"Satan's fate was sealed." Feli said.

"See? I told you she could do it!" Tarutaru beamed, lifting her up in excitement.

Lemres handed Lidelle a strawberry cupcake.

Satan approached, a grin on his face despite the loss. "You’ve grown stronger, young Lidelle. I’ll have to challenge you again sometime."

"Anytime!" she replied while tying her hair back up, her spirit soaring. In that moment, surrounded by friends and family, Lidelle felt more than just a competitor—she felt like a true champion.

As the celebrations continued, she knew that this battle was only the beginning.

I love it! My only note is that for religious reasons, Satan will be referred to as The Dark Prince in this series