#rabbid sweetlopek

[randomrabbidramblings]

Woodrow's Disguise

"Shoot, I'm afraid of heights..."

Before the poetry contest, Woodrow had to make sure he didn't get recognized so he went and showed Sweetlopek his disguise. Test passed and Sweetlopek had a good laugh about the absurdity of the situation (and his friend). Beaver was eyeng Woodrow's stilts, though. That was a strange looking tree.

[I swear I had this drawing in my "to do" list since March, lol. I used a new ink brush for this and finally managed to find some decent looking pattern for the papery texture]

[jasminebelle096]

Happy Valentines Day 💖

So I made those little sketches a few days ago and I legit forgot to post them

And then yesterday I remembered that tomorrow will be the day of love and I thought "eh, it could actually fit in the theme", so here you go!

I'm sorry but they are SO cute I want more of them 🥰

[yoshis-island420]

Well, since y’all already seen it, thought it would be a good idea to post it here as well :) Sweetlopek my beloved <3 

[hostess-of-horror]

Blooms in the Frost

A Sweetleaves Fanfic by @monsterbride99 and @minnesotamedic186

​Medic’s note: This takes place before our first Sweetleaves fanfic Fallen Leaves, so it’s basically a prequel or prologue to all the lovey stuff(Also I wanted to get this out while there was still snow on the ground so it’d be more, relatable, I guess-?)  Dryad will spend this story in her Monster Form as well.

He could feel the winds biting his skin. His face burned from the piercing chill of the winter storm, his cheeks and ears flushed into blotches of red. He thought that the spiked eggnog at the local bar would warm him up, but once the weather became a blizzard, he realized his underestimation. 

Sweetlopek marched through the thick white snow with stubborn determination. There were many places for him to take shelter for the night, but he refused and took his chances. But the chances of him getting to his home safely were extremely slim. This Sweetlopek found out as he felt his legs slowly begin to give in. His knees buckled under the weight. His back ached and his eyes could barely make out the usual pathway before him. Not even his freshest memory of his homeland helped him through the blizzard. As Sweetlopek took another step, he collapsed on his knees, his breathing sharp and short, and everything went black.

—

As the Spellbound Beast, storms like these were perfect for Dryad to stalk outside, just around the perimeter of Spellbound Woods. It was the closest she could get to the mortals of Palette Prime without causing any panic. Her massive form slowly prowled through the winds, almost invisible, camouflaged against the opaque sheets of white surrounding her. It was also the only form that can truly withstand the bitter cold as if it were just a small breeze. 

Dryad let out a short exhale. A scent had caught her senses. With a grunt, she followed it, tracing it to an area a bit further away than where she normally stays in. The scent grew thicker, more prominent, as she drew closer. Soon, Dryad recognized it. 

Oak… Steel… Wool…

A slight tinge of herbs…

She knew this odor all too well. A whimper escaped her throat as she picked up speed. A few steps forward and there before her, almost shrouded in snow, laid an unconscious lumberjack. Dryad lowered her head down and nudged him gently, lifting him from the pile accumulated from the weather. Still, he remained unmoving. She pressed against him again. A small shiver ran through her fur, making her twitch. He was breathing. It was shallow, but breathing nonetheless.

Grabbing him by the collar of his coat, Dryad carefully lifted him up by her teeth and walked back into the woods. As the winds died down within the trees, she held him in her paw and placed him on top of her mane. He would be more comfortable and far warmer there. What was Sweetlopek doing out in this storm, Dryad thought. She had yet to see a mortal who could handle such temperatures without succumbing to illness. She huffed. Of course, it just had to be him of all the inhabitants of Palette Prime. But she could not bring herself to be angry at him. She was scared. Mortals are fragile, and Sweetlopek was no exception.

Now deep into her sanctuary within the Spellbound Woods, Dryad kneeled and laid down near her nest. She lifted Sweetlopek up again and looked at him. He was still unconscious, still breathing, and so much warmer. He would be warmer still if she placed him within her nest. After all, to her it was the perfect place for warmth after all these centuries. But perhaps he needed more than just that. Dryad could feel the coldness emitting from Sweetlopek and, as gently as she could, she laid him down within the nest with just enough space for her to sleep in.

Like a dragon with its horde of treasure, Dryad, the Spellbound Beast, crawled over and laid down beside him, her paws just barely wrapped around him.

—

Sweetlopek suddenly woke up to him falling into a thick blanket of snow. The icy chill made him spring up, fully awake. He slowly rose, patting down his coat to clean off the frost. Letting out an irritated harrumph, Sweetlopek then looked around. The last thing he remembered was leaving the bar, after celebrating Shiverfest with the locals down at Paletteville. How did he manage to end up here of all places? Suddenly, a strong gust of hot air interrupted Sweetlopek's thoughts from behind. A low, rumbling yawn shook him to the core. He cautiously turned around.

He covered his mouth, catching himself from screaming, and fell backwards from the sight before him. His eyes widened in fear. Sweetlopek remained still, not just out of pure shock but as to not wake the giant creature from its slumber. He considered his chances: make his attempt to escape or be at the mercy of this great beast. But as he thought, he realized where he was at and what it truly was. He was in the Spellbound Woods, and the giant before him was the infamous Spellbound Beast.

Sweetlopek slowly lifted himself up, his eyes locked on the Spellbound Beast. Inch by inch, he carefully rose, hoping to not make much noise. The snow crunched underneath him. He continued even slower, but the crunching was too loud for his liking. He pressed on anyway. The Spellbound Beast snorted. He froze. Just a few more moves, he thought to himself, just a few more. After a few seconds, he continued until he was finally standing. 

So far, so good.

As he went to turn around, he couldn't bring himself to look away. The last thing he needed was the Beast to awake and chase him down. Sweetlopek took a deep breath and held it, making his next first step away. He paused again. He slowly exhaled and looked away, taking another step.

Another gust of hot breath blew behind him, followed by another rumbling yawn. The Spellbound Beast shifted, its limbs moving to make room for a big stretch. Its paws reached out forwards, cornering the panicked lumberjack, until it finally curled up again, taking him with it. Sweetlopek, caught within its paws, was met with a face full of warm fur. He turned away as much as he possibly could, giving himself air to breath. "Is this you keeping me warm…" Sweetlopek huffed, "or your attempt to kill me?" He felt it shift again, its fur brushing against him as it rose its head up. Sweetlopek could not do anything but watch helplessly as the Spellbound Beast let out a huge yawn and slowly peer down at him. 

Sweetlopek gulped. The beast had no eyes, but somehow, it could sense him. He could not tell if having eyes or not made it scarier. The Spellbound Beast "stared" back and licked its chomps. Sweetlopek's heart jumped and tensed up with frightened anticipation. But then, instead of taking a bite out of the lumberjack, the beast stuck out its tongue into a tiny "blep." Sweetlopek slumped back into the snow as he was finally released from its grip. He watched as it stood straight up, stretching its body from sleep. It then shook the snow off its fur. Sweetlopek was not quick enough to miss the falling snow and ended up, once again, covered in it.

Sweetlopek grunted in annoyance as he patted himself down again. The Spellbound Beast sat down and tilted its head in curiosity. He looked up and down at the massive creature. He has encountered it before - mostly seen it - and it had given him trouble for quite some time. But now, here it is, sitting before him like a friendly dog. Sweetlopek did not understand, nor could he, how such an legendary monster of his planet's folklore became docile towards him. "I, uh… I suppose this is your way of… apologizing?" he spoke to it.

The beast tilted its head the other way. Sweetlopek tilted his, and as he did so, it tilted the other way again. "I'm not sure… if that's you saying 'yes'... Heck, I bet you can’t even understand me." Sweetlopek pondered. It then perked up and made a huff as if to say, "Excuse me?" He stopped at its reaction, "Oh, you can understand me?" The Spellbound Beast huffed again and nodded. Sweetlopek blinked in surprise; it shook its head! It then stood up, strolled around him, and went to a large, dying tree. Near the roots of the dying tree, it picked up a large branch, which compared to her size is a measly stick, and carried it over near Sweetlopek. With a slight struggle, the beast adjusted the branch in its jaws, the pointed end facing downwards into the snow. It began to drag the branch and Sweetlopek looked on until he realized that the drawn symbols were letters.

D  R  Y  A  D

He gasped and spun around. He looked up at the giant, intelligent creature. "Dryad?" He muttered, his mind completely blown. The beast then responded by drawing another sign into the snow: a simple, smiley face. The lumberjack looked at the smiley face, then back at Dryad, and then back at the smiley face again. He paused. "That was YOU?!" he finally bursted out loud, "YOU were the one who was trying to scare me away?! To keep me from lumbering, my livelihood?" Dryad nodded again. Sweetlopek groaned, "Okay, so you want me to stop doing my job because you're a… tree spirit and all that. But here's the thing, I can't. I can't do that. You know why? Because I need to survive in a society that runs on money. And lumbering makes money." She tilted its head. 

"Okay, maybe you don't understand the basics of economics…" he sighed wearily, "But you do understand survival, right? Isn't survival a part of life? That sometimes some living things take other living things to survive? And being able to live… Well, isn't that what everyone wants?" Dryad stood silently, although Sweetlopek could not decipher whether she was contemplating or simply not comprehending anything. She then turned and looked at her surroundings. A low hum emitted from her chest as she looked back at the lumberjack. With an exhale, Dryad lowered herself, lying on her side with her head towards him. Sweetlopek approached Dryad cautiously. "Are we… Are we good? Do we have a deal? For right now at least?" he asked as he knelt down to where her nose would be.

Dryad rolled over a bit and nodded. The lumberjack sighed with relief. No more scares. No more chasing. "Okay, good." Sweetlopek said as let out another sigh, "Do you, mind if I can…?" He raises his hand, slowly and gently, as he inches towards Dryad's snout. He then carefully placed his mitten upon her, petting the smooth and warm fur. She paused for a moment, letting him touch her, and finally relaxed with a loud purr. "Heh. You know, for the Spellbound Beast, you're awfully adorable like this." Sweetlopek chucked, "Makes me almost forget that you tried to eat me a few times." Dryad huffed, and he laughed. 

He could not believe it. The Spellbound Beast, lying before him, and there he was… petting it! Or, rather, her. Despite learning of the beast's true identity, being with her was a moment only found in fantasy tales. "Okay…" he sighed with a slight grin, "Can you take me home, then?" Dryad shifted forward and her snout pressed underneath his body, lifting him all the way up in the air. Sweetlopek let out a yelp as he tumbled onto her face and down into her mane. She then let out an odd sound - he assumed it was laughter. The lumberjack clutched onto her mane by the thick strands of hair as Dryad finally stood up on all fours and marched out of the woods.

The morning sun shone over the crystal-like trees. The frost glistened as they ventured like diamonds on a chandelier. Sweetlopek took the view in as his eyes began to close from exhaustion. He could have stayed up, but the slow, swaying motion of Dryad's walking and the warmth emitting from her fur made it impossible. Soon enough, he was fast asleep again

.…Why would she save him?

…Why did she save him?

After all, he's a lumberjack. Like all the others before him.

Was it his determination? His bravery?

His stubbornness?

Dryad is stubborn as well. Perhaps she recognized that.

He should probably thank her soon. But maybe, he'll have to thank her through some… offering or ancient ritual or some-

Sweetlopek felt himself suddenly drop down. In a matter of seconds, he fell from Dryad's mane and landed right on top of a giant snow pile. The sheer coldness shook him to the core, causing him to jolt up to his feet. "Agh!" Sweetlopek groaned, "Are you kidding me?" Dryad "laughed" again. He looked up to see a smile on her face. A mischievous spirit, even as the Spellbound Beast. The lumberjack looked over to his house, then back at Dryad, as he brushed the snow off himself again. "Thank you, Dryad. I mean it." He spoke sincerely. Dryad lowered her head, as if to say "You're welcome", and began marching back. Sweetlopek watched the massive creature return to her home as his heart began to swell with warmth.

Oh, what a beauty she is.

[deezeyrabbidy]

[hostess-of-horror]

@bramble-scramble Oooh, that reminds me! I have yet to tell you about @minnesotamedic186 and I talked about Sweetlycan (Werewolf!Sweetlopek)!

The cloak pictured above would be worn by Dryad in her Maiden form, as she approaches the now transformed lumberjack werewolf. Instead of being viciously attacked, Dryad lends out her caring hand towards Sweetlycan... and he headbutts her hand.

I like to think Dryad can calm animals down very easily, and considering this is the Rabbid who she loves so dearly, she wouldn't need to trap him or do anything drastic.

Imagine going through the Spellbound Woods during a full moon (despite many of the villagers' warnings) and coming across an ethereal nature spirit petting a massive werewolf while it rests on her lap.

Autumn Cloak // Amy Rushworth on Etsy

[altermentality]

Friends of the Forest 🍂

A little late for Sparks of Hope's birthday, but not too much! I'll always fondly associate the game with this time of year, due to when it came out and because of my favorite planet therein.

I tried to imitate the style of Woodrow's backstory portraits! This is my first ever time trying to use halftones... I'm really happy with how it came out and hope you enjoy!

[m00nb04rd5]

Can you do Sweetlopek from Mario + Rabbids Sparks of Hope please?

Sweetlopek (Mario + Rabbids Sparks of Hope)

[pearl-crystals]

Doodle Medley :)

Some doodles I've got! I've been drawing a lot but I never share em on here! I've really gotten into Mario and Rabbids and I mostly cannot stop drawing the rabbids and the wardens (mostly Woodrow.)

Ive got a huge surplus of doodles so I hope you enjoy! I hope to draw a few of these bigger! If not, I'm pretty content on how they've turned out :)

Only two of these pictures are based off a tiktok! I am pretty certain you'll be able to tell which one hahaha.

Im adding a read more just because of how many doodles there are. But I hope you enjoy em as much as I do! C:

This should be end of the doodles for now! Hope you enjoyed em! :)

[randomrabbidramblings]

And then Woodrow shaved and the hair never came back ⁠◕ ⁠೧⁠ ⁠◕

Some Woodrow and Sweetlopek being bros among all the Phandrow chaos that's happening, lol.

[down-the-rabbid-hole]

Okay SO, since y'all seemed to like my idea post I'm gonna ramble about the Borrower Woodrow au! This isn't really a fic nor headcanons it's just me writing down a bunch of ideas for this au

LONG RAMBLE UNDER THE CUT!!!

Okay so for those who don't know what borrowers are, the short answer is fairies without wings. They're little creatures that often resemble rodents that live in people's walls or out in forests, and often "borrow" human items (or in this case Rabbid items) such as food and trinkets like buttons, felt, anything really.

They fit PERFECTLY with the aesthetic of pallet prime!! Given they're often shown sometimes living in trees, or using stuff like acorn caps as hats or tree leaves as clothing, there's so many connections to be made!

Anyways back to what you all are probably here for, Woodrow but s m o l

He'd still have his curse! And wouldn't be too different personality wise? He's still a monochromatic poet. But he'd (at least as a kid) be hiding in the town of pallet prime, scavenging and "borrowing" supplies while trying to stay hidden and avoid being stepped on or caught.

I can see him residing in a library of sorts, and after closing time he'd try his best to read the poetry books there, even making a few poems of his own! Though despite his curse...it probably wouldn't go well. Every time Woodrow's curse would cause something bad to happen, the townspeople would blame it on this "spirit of bad luck", which would become basically this urban legend amongst them.

Eventually, Woodrow would've encountered a young Sweetlopek, who immediately thinks Woodrow's a fairy of some kind would try and befriend him, at first Woodrow would try and avoid him out of fear (Sweets is like 20 times his size, can you blame him??), but after getting over his fear of being squashed he'd accept the friend offer!

(also, I can't stop imagining a tiny Woodrow riding around in Sweetlopeks overalls pocket, it's too cute and image)

Part of me wants to say they just stay as friends since then, but the other part has another idea...

Woodrow starts reading Sweets some of the poems he's made, which is of course causing all SORTS of trouble for the townsfolk, one of which managing to trace the chaos to Woodrow (bonus points if it's that one burly Rabbid that punched Woodrow in canon)

That Rabbid connects the dots to the bad luck spirit and Woodrow, causing the townspeople to go into a frenzy trying to catch him, and he unfortunately gets separated from Sweetlopek during this, who's trying to convince the townspeople Woodrow did nothing wrong and didn't wanna hurt anyone.

Meanwhile in the chaos, Woodrow ends up getting fucking TRAMPLED by the mob of angry Rabbids, but somehow escapes into the forest to safety. Where he'll stay for a while to lay low and avoid other Rabbids.

Aaand I'm just gonna stop the post here before WOW it's getting long, I know that was a lot of angst BUT DW THERE'S FLUFF STUFF COMING SOON I PROMISE. Just gotta get the angst out of the way first. Also gonna be renaming this to the Borrower!Woodrow au instead of Borrower!Phandrow au since it's not ENTIRELY Phandrow centered, though there is phandrow in it eventually!

Thank you for coming to my Ted talk

[pastelprince18]

I’m silly for him,,, cries

Also rabbid Luigi too bc i was suppose to give him a design but forgor <:] so this is a idea for now

But anyways yeah Woodrow we love to see him

[randomrabbidramblings]

They would go as far as disguising Sweetlopek's beaver as a cloud (with wood ash to color the fur) and Woodrow's lil' cloud as a beaver (with a brush for the tail and googly eyes), lol.

Cute/silly idea: kid Woodrow and kid Sweetlopek dressing up as eachother for Halloween to confuse everyone in Paletteville (spoiler: it doesn't work, lol).

CUTE!! They totally would!!

"Woody, doncha think our, y'know... our sizes'll give it away?"

"Perish the thought, Sweets. I shall be EVER so good at acting as you, no one will even notice."

(Somehow, he doubts it. But they try anyway.)

[turqrambles]

Mario + Rabbids fandom be like “We love ALL of the Rabbids!”

“...except this guy.”

“This guy sucks.”

[edges-boots]

Riley Glow Up !! 🪀🧡

Battle Title: The Gatherer

Technique Name: Guster Spiral ( Requires Rabbid Luigi )

Weapon Name: Yostrictors ( Yo-Yos+Constrictor )

Home Planet: Palette Prime, Daughter of Sweetlopek

[pixies-and-poets]

Of Verses and Curses: Chapter Two

Hello again! It’s Friday and, as promised- that means IT’S TIME FOR MORE BUNNY CONTENT, PHANDROW NATION

Chapter One

Content warnings for this chapter: Mild Woodrow anguish, questionable poetry... what else is new? That’s it.

Author’s notes on headcanons: I used my name for Sweetlopek’s beaver, but feel free to substitute your own. And... Woodrow definitely needed a first name for this story, so I’ve gone with my favorite option, something a lot of us seem to have settled on after some mutual fandom discussion. It’s not invented from thin air either, as it comes from the German localization of the game!

Chapter Two - Best of Luck 

Sweetlopek opened his cabinet and got out three plates. Woodrow had invited himself over for dinner, again.

It was not a rare occurrence; knowing his friend’s problems with cooking, the lumberjack was always happy to do it for him. In his bachelor days, he had been grateful for the company. And even now that his days and nights had become far less lonesome, he was happy to still see and take care of his companion since childhood.

Dryad, bless her, was compassionate enough to understand, and to bear with the interruptions when the warden showed up on the doorstep at various hours and in various states of bedragglement.

But today, it did not seem that desperation nor despair had driven him to their door. He had entered with almost a spring in his step, and when his cloud had tried to follow him inside, there was a teasing mirth in his voice as he cooed, “No, no! You know the rules,” giving it a playful poke with his umbrella until it grumbled with thunder and parked itself out of sight above the roof.

While Sweet started work on the food, Dryad and Woodrow had sat and made pleasant small-talk over the gentle sizzles and soft scraping of wooden spoons on cast-iron pans. Every now and then, from his spot at the stove, the woodsman would glance back at them and see his friend scratching Chipper, the beaver who usually camped out on the lumberjack's head. He was even tossing Chipper's gnawed-up wooden toys across the floor for him to fetch.

The forest spirit, who was already in some measure confused by other Rabbids, was extra baffled by Woodrow, who was a different sort altogether. Sweetlopek had told her that it wasn’t her fault; few people understood the poet, but mostly out of lack of trying, and it was good of her to make the effort. Today, however, she felt that all the progress she had made in comprehending him was being undone, and she was dealing with an entirely different entity. Far from his normal gloomy countenance, he seemed to boil over with delight.

Sweetlopek set the table - he and Dryad next to each other, and Woodrow across from them - and they all sat down together, passing around the heaping pots of vegetables and serving themselves. Dryad didn’t eat very much; in fact, she could entirely subsist on sunlight and rainwater, and berries and nuts… and dirt… but she was growing accustomed to her darling’s vegetarian cooking, and starting to become rather fond of it.

They had been eating for just a few minutes when the lumberjack looked across at his friend. “Alright, Woody,” he said, “spit it out.”

The warden lowered his fork and swallowed a mouthful of peas. “Hmm?”

“I don’t know what it is, but somethin’s gotcha… happy. So why don’cha share with the class, eh?”

Woodrow smiled, somehow looking both shy and proud. “Well… alright, then. You see… I received quite a momentous letter today, and have made all the arrangements. We shall be hosting a celebrity here on Palette Prime.”

“Oh?” said Sweetlopek, somewhat confused but trying to mimic his friend's clear excitement. Usually, neither of them were big fans of the showy visits of the rich and famous.

“Yes,” said the poet, barely containing himself. In a slow, awed voice, he said: “The Phantom is coming.”

The lumberjack stopped dead, his mouth full of corn, the cob he was gnawing still grasped before him in his big paws. After a moment, he swallowed his mouthful and put down his corncob. “What, like a ghost?” he asked.

“Is it that horrible Spark Hunter?” asked Dryad.

“No!!” said Woodrow in dismay, his face falling for the first time that night. “The… THE Phantom! Tom Phan! The Phantom of the Bwahpera!!”

The two lovers looked at him, then at each other, then back at him.

“Oh, come now!” the Warden groaned, putting a hand on his head. He didn’t blame the Dryad, a spirit of the wild, for not knowing… but Sweetlopek… so kind, so strong, so uncultured. “You don’t mean to tell me you don’t know of him!! The opera sensation?! Only one of the best singers in the galaxy - er, he was, anyway. A spectacular presence onstage and off! Foe to Mario, born in the Mushroom Kingdom, merged by the powers of Spawny, giving rise to-”

“OH!!” cried Sweetlopek in sudden recognition. “That guy Bea dated, right? They both blew their voices out, didn’t they?”

Woodrow sighed and shook his head. “Yes, they did,” he said sadly. “In fact, that’s the reason for his visit. He hopes that our fair planet and its natural splendor, its fresh arboreal air, may help restore what he has lost."

“Hmmm,” said the lumberjack, with narrowed eyes. “Welp. Would hate to burst his bubble, but I ain’t sure it works like that.”

Dryad shrugged. “Never doubt the power of the trees, love. Nature will surprise you, if you give it a chance.” She winked at the woodsman playfully. “You of all people should know.”

“Oh, you're right. I know,” he said, suddenly bearing a bashfun grin and giving her a pat on the hand.

“Anyway, the forest surprises even ME, all the time," said Dryad, turning to Woodrow, “and I know more about it than anyone! So if your friend is looking for a cure, perhaps-”

“Oh!! He’s not my friend,” exclaimed Woodrow, his cheeks turning so red it was visible through his fur. “Merely a… merely a… well, we know of each other, but have never met. But yes, perhaps… perhaps friends we shall become.” He added, more quietly, “I think I should like that very much.”

“Well, he sounds like an artistic type, so I’m sure you two will get along just wonderfully!” said Dryad with an encouraging smile, leaning forward with her paws on the table. “Best of luck!”

Sweetlopek nearly spat out his mouthful of pumpkin ale. He choked it down and gave his partner a glance; but she had not realized what she’d done. His eyes traveled nervously over to Woodrow, whose face had become even more elongated, darkened, frozen in horror.

Dryad began to realize that something was amiss, and looked back and forth between the two men. “...What?” she asked.

Sweetlopek leaned over to her. “You said the L-word,” he whispered in her ear, and she immediately looked as stricken as the others.

“OH!” burst from Woodrow, who had overheard- it was hard, after all, to whisper quiet enough for a creature with such large ears to not hear. “O, luck!!” he cried in an agony of disgust.

“So little a word for so great a power!

O villain that threatens me hour by hour!

O knave, O menace that waits at my side!

Dismantler of dreams and punisher of pride-” he slammed his hand on the table in passion, and a huge bolt of lightning and immediate peal of thunder rent the air outside.

“Woody-” began the lumberjack in concern as rain began to lash at the windows.

“O luck,” he continued,

“Thou writest my name in the cruelest of plots,

Thou weavest my fate into tangles and knots!

My most thoughtful plans reduced to insanity;

To plan for my joy, mere folly and vanity!”

The glass that held Dryad’s water cracked and then shattered. She flew off to get a towel while Woodrow took several deep, shuddering breaths, and slumped down in his chair as the rain and loud cracks of thunder continued. Without a word Sweetlopek got up, walked over to him, scooped him up, and took him over to the couch where he laid him down against a pillow. He was breathing hard, racked with a sort of dry sob, an attack of anguish. Sweet had seen it before, many a time. He stroked Woodrow's arm, gently, to ground him in reality and safety, while the wind howled and the rain clawed the windows.

After a few minutes, the poet's breathing calmed down and the thunder around them did as well, not stopping completely, but becoming softer and less frequent. “There now, Woody,” said the lumberjack as Dryad joined them, wringing her paws in worry. “Didja get it all out?”

“I think so,” he said weakly and softly. “But… but I spoke true. Oh, what a fool I’ve been!” He buried his face in his paws, pushing them up behind his glasses until the spectacles were pushed up and off, sliding down onto the couch next to him. “To think, I almost let him come here! Someone who needs good fortune, and good health! Someone… someone I admire. I almost let him come HERE, where I dwell!”

“Almost?!” said Dryad. “I thought you said he was coming?”

“I haven’t written back to him yet,” mumbled Woodrow from behind his hands, tears evident in his voice and visible, creeping and leaking out around the edges of his paws. “There’s still time to tell him not to come. We can’t accommodate him. We’re busy with the harvest. I can invent all manner of excuses…”

Dryad and Sweetlopek looked at each other in despair. He had been so happy earlier, and now…

“So, you’re worried you’ll cause something terrible to happen while he’s here?” Dryad asked.

Woodrow nodded, slowly revealing his reddened eyes and their ever-present look of fatigue and sorrow. “Yes,” he said. “Something could happen around him… something could happen TO him. He’s looking for healing right now. He needs the opposite of… whatever tribulations I shall bring to him. Oh! I should just tell him to go to Gusty Garden Galaxy,” he groaned, “he’s a musician… everyone likes that song they have there…”

“He should come,” said Sweetlopek firmly, giving his friend another pat on the shoulder. “You were so excited about it. I’m sure it’ll be fine. I mean, you've been workin' on containin' yer jinx, right? I’ve seen ya practicin’ in the woods. Yer tryin' to learn to control it, ain’tcha?”

“Yes,” he said, but with an air of defeat. “I keep hoping I can direct it, contain it… but… it’s difficult. I can’t, really. Mere wishful thinking.” He sighed.

Dryad looked at the two friends skeptically, confusion on her face. “Uh… forgive me if this is a silly question,” she said cautiously, “but, Woodrow… have you tried simply… not writing poems? It’s the poems that cause your ill fortune, right?”

“Honey,” said Sweetlopek, looking at her in wry amusement. ��Ya might as well ask the trees in yer forest not to grow, or the leaves not to fall. Ya might as well-

“She’s right,” said Woodrow, his voice filled with sudden determination. He pushed himself into a sitting position.

“...What?” said the woodsman, his face snapping back to his old friend in astonishment. “Ya can’t just stop yerself, can ya? Poetry’s the air you breathe. Always been like that, since we were kids. You spit out those rhymes like Chipper spits out sawdust. An' no matter what’s happened, you’ve NEVER stopped! Never been able to, never wanted to.”

“Not until now,” he said, looking at the couple in placid resolution.

“Oh!” said Sweetlopek, more than a little upset. “Bringin' down the moon didn’t do it! The DOOMSTORM didn’t do it! Gettin' yerself nearly killed by a boat didn’t do it- Tristan Woodrow, I thought you were a goner, that day!" The heat in his voice continued to rise. "As long as I've known you, you idiot, I’ve worried my ears off abou'cha! My best friend! But I never wanted you to stop writing, because it’s who y’are. It’s yer nature. And NOW yer gonna stop, because of some… some singer?! Frankly, I don't believe you.”

“Shh, love…” said Dryad, patting her partner on his arm to quell his agitation. She then turned to the poet. “I’m sorry for suggesting it,” she said quickly. “Really, there’s no reason to stop writing your poems. I know how important they are to you, and-”

But the poet - or perhaps, erstwhile poet - was smiling again. He put on his glasses, adjusted them and then stood up, filled with renewed vigor. “Nay, nay!” he cried. “You, dear Dryad, have the wisdom of the forest indeed! There’s a solution to my woes after all, and how simple it is! From the moment the Phantom arrives, I shall go on hiatus from my work. In fact, perhaps this is just what I need to refresh my creative passions. Hmm?”

Sweetlopek was still crossing his burly arms and bearing a deep-set frown, but Dryad looked up at the warden with tentative support. “If that’s… REALLY what you want,” she said. “Then I- WE-” she added pointedly with a glance at her love, “support you.”

“It is!” said Woodrow, his earlier merry demeanor returning, with the rain outside starting to let up, and the watery rays of the sunset starting to once more streak through the windows. “Now, my apologies for the outburst. Let us finish our dinner before it gets cold, shall we?”

The three seated themselves again, and Sweetlopek raised an eyebrow at the warden as they began to eat. His anger dissipated quickly, as his old friend did seem excited and happy, and that was rare enough… so who was he to get in the way of that? He must truly be fond of this Phantom fellow… and said Phantom had better be worth the trouble.

[Next time: Phantom is actually in this story!! Wow!]