#so like. disturbingly chipper...

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Psycho Analysis: Gerald Robotnik

(WARNING! This analysis contains SPOILERS!)

You may not know this, but Jim Carrey is actually really good at playing villains. Like, it’s a pretty obscure fact about his career. So obscure that despite him playing at least three of the funniest villains I’d ever seen growing up, I completely forgot about them when I did the Psycho Analysis for Ivo Robotnik back when the original Sonic film dropped.

But now I know better. The Grinch, Count Olaf, the Riddler… Carrey is a master of playing cartoonish creeps. And Ivo Robotnik has proved to be the best and most fun of all his villainous roles, evolving beyond the simple yet fun egomaniac scientist of the first film into something that hews far closer to what Sonic fans might expect from the world’s sexiest fat man AKA Dr. Eggman. In fact, Robotnik might be my favorite villain role of his, and one of my favorite villains of all time.

Now what if we doubled that?

Sonic the Hedgehog 3 went bigger and better than its predecessors, and considering it was introducing the most popular character in the Sonic franchise who isn’t the Blue Blur himself—Shadow—it kind of had to. And that meant giving us not one, but two Jim Carrey performances. In this movie, the typically posthumous Gerald Robotnik is alive and well and out to enact some revenge. It’s a pretty bold and different approach to the beloved story of this Sonic adventure… so how does it work out?

Motivation/Goals: Gerald Robotnik is motivated by revenge, much like in the games, though this time he’s around to pursue it himself. After what G.U.N. did to Maria, he wanted to completely dismantle and destroy them. But the thing is, his decades of stewing in his hate and rage made him a little cuckoo, and now his hate extends to not just G.U.N., but the entirety of the human race… as well as himself.

Performance: Jim Carrey had already perfected Ivo over two films, but I think there may have been a little worry he’d make Gerald too similar and ignore what made fans love him in the game. Of course, we needn’t have worried; not only is Gerald a distinct character from his grandson, he still manages to be a truly despicable human being, perhaps more vile than he’s ever been before. He’s still as wacky and ridiculous as Ivo, but unlike with Eggman he manages to drop the silly at just the right moments to make Gerald a genuinely threatening monster.

Final Fate: No firing squad for Gerald this time; no, his ending here is much more undignified, but also incredibly well-deserved and satisfying. After callously trying to send his grandson into the vacuum of space, Ivo surprises the old man with a super-charged Sonic quill into his ass which sends him flying through the air into the chaos energy. He then proceeds to be disintegrate with a little pop like a bug in a zapper.

Now, this may seem incredibly cartoonish and even ridiculous as a way to defeat such a villain… But read the rest of this analysis to see just how disturbingly vile Gerald ends up being. I think this truly absurd and cartoonish death is exactly what the movie needed to do to rerail things and keep it from going way too dark. And, if you think about it, his death is still colossally fucked up, particularly because Tails seems a little too chipper about committing murder.

Evilness: For most of the movie, he seems like he’ll end up being like… a 6 or 7/10, like clearly a bad guy but one with an understandable motive that you can root for. G.U.N. do not come out of this film smelling like roses, and when you see the full extent of what they did to Shadow it’s hard not to root against them.

But then comes the third act. He reveals he wants to kill everyone and himself, he reveals he doesn’t give a shit what Maria would want because he’s so utterly consumed with misanthropy, and he drops the coldest line ever to reject his grandson… Yeah this guy is a 10/10. Maybe even a 10.5/10. He is genuinely fucking callous and vile and monstrous.

Best Scene: Without a doubt it’s the scene where he and Ivo dance through the lasers.

This scene is great for multiple reasons. The most obvious reason is that t’s an amazing example of the movies effects and how well it showcases the dual Jim Carrey performance. Like, this must’ve been a bitch and a half to make look convincing, especially with Ivo picking Gerald up and swinging him around. It’s amazingly well done, the choreography is great, and “Galvanize” by the Chemical Brothers kicks ass.

But it also works as a further highlighting of the character of Ivo, how he’s still desperately cramming in family fun now that he feels he has someone who cares about him… and it also makes the later reveal about Gerald sting all the more.

Best Quote: Remember that line in Frozen where Hans coldly reveals he’s a villain to Anna? Remember how it’s a stupid twist that doesn’t make sense, yet the line is one of the rawest in all of Disney’s canon? Imagine that except the twist actually works and is effective. That’s what Gerald gets:

“Oh, Ivo… You’re no Maria.”

This single line completely recontextualizes everything Gerald has done up until this point. Every single bit of fun and goofiness now comes off as deliberate manipulation of Ivo to help in his schemes. It also highlights just how single-minded and insane he’s become in his pursuit of revenge; here he has a living member of his family, someone who could fill the void Maria left, but he coldly rebuffs them because he is too consumed by his own hate and rage.

Final Thoughts & Score: I fucking love Gerald.

Jim Carrey really went above and beyond here (and considering they sent him the script in gold and let him play with himself on camera, why wouldn’t he?). He manages to make Gerald hilarious and goofy but also perfectly captures his grief, rage, and hatred when the third act hits. And that third act is genuinely impressive even when he gets into a scientifically-enhanced slap fight with his renegade grandson; just his eerily calm statement of his desire to commit murder-suicide with the entirety of the Earth, his callous brushing off of both his grandson and Maria’s desires, his flippant shrugging off of the worth of Shadow’s life when the hedgehog betrays him… It’s honestly shocking just how nasty Jim Carrey manages to be without completely dropping the inherent goofiness he brings to his roles. In fact, his goofiness just makes it more chilling when he drops the act and gets going.

Frankly it’s surprising just how much nuance there is in such a goofy role, how much can be read in to his actions. Like they really didn’t have to put so much work into the silly villain in the second sequel of a video game movie franchise, they could have easily half-assed Gerald or even just had him be posthumous to save themselves a lot of work. But they didn’t do that, they brought him in, managed to flesh him out and give him depth while still keeping him true to the core of the character, and they knocked him out of the park. Of course, Carrey’s amazing dual performance where he goes out of the way to interact with himself is a big plus too. The sheer spectacle is at least 50% of what makes Gerald so fun to watch.

All in all, Gerald is one of the greatest live-action family film antagonists ever seen, and he’s a big part as to why Sonic the Hedgehog 3 is so great. And best of all he continues to show that the human characters related to Eggman are the best in the franchise. Easily a 9.5/10 for me, with the .5 less than his grandson only because we get far less time with him since, you know, he fucking dies at the ends of this one and isn’t going to develop more. But the fact they manage to make him so well-rounded in just a single movie is worth a lot.

[the-unnamed-haven]

The Kingdom of Death

Chapter 3: Enigmatic Enemies

Aym maintained a stoic expression as the group walked to the Cathedral, but apprehension was building inside his mind.  Something was off.  He knew there was little point in speculation before the High Priests had given their reports, but he couldn't help but feel this was the start of something big.

To his left, Baal was humming a soft melody, having seemingly forgotten about his hangover.  No doubt his mind was occupied only with thoughts of his lover Leandros.  Whether they were thoughts of the battlefield or the bedroom, Aym did not ever want to know.

They approached the side entrance to the Cathedral.  Aym was always somewhat amazed by the sheer size of the structure.  The weathered stone had survived almost five centuries of service, and stood as a reminder of an age long past.  Aym pondered his own history once more.  One thousand years of life.  So much of it spent in service to Death, in some form or another.  Much like this ancient Cathedral, servitude was all he had known.  Even if he could leave, would he want to?  Did he remain of his own will, or because he knew no other way…

Aym shook the thoughts away.  He knew better than to leave them be, but they would have to wait.  Whatever matter brought the High Priests here took precedence.

The group ascended the spiral stairs to the Cathedral’s upper floors.  Many of the Cathedral's maintainers were busy scrubbing stains from the floor and walls, and various bottles were being collected.  A reminder of the work Aym and his brother had waiting for them back at the house.

Narinder opened a set of double doors leading to a large room with a map of Death’s Realm sitting atop a table at the center.  “Leave us” the Archbishop uttered to the servants tidying the room.  Without a word, they followed Narinder's instruction.

“Now then.”  Narinder motioned for Aym to close the doors.  “The two of you say both Darkwood and Silk Cradle have trouble of some kind.”

“Quite so” Shamura spoke first as they approached the table.  “One month ago, I received a report that a town in northern Silk Cradle had been put to the torch.  I was in the midst of preparing a message instructing one of the nearby towns to investigate when another, disturbingly similar report found its way to me.”

Shamura began to circle the table.  “I feared this was the start of something larger.  I sent missives to numerous temples and villages instructing them to check in on their close neighbors.  By the end of the week, the total number of destroyed temples and towns was eight.”

“Eight?!”  Aym exclaimed.  “You're certain?!”

“I would not come to you saying as such unless I was.”  The spider was quite calm, but their whisper held a grave tone.  “And that's just what we know for sure.”

“Man” Baal seemed even more chipper than before.  “Whoever these guys are, they’ve sure been busy.”  His voice shifted to a more sinister tone, a wicked smile creeping across his face.  “Can’t wait to get up there and pay them back…”

“Well” Leshy interjected.  “Was kinda hoping it really was a coincidence, but it looks like our troubles are related.”

Leshy approached the table.  “Counted about seven villages before I decided to head out.  Same shit as up north apparently.  Guys that found the first one said it looked like it had been like that for a few days already.”  Leshy placed his hands at the edge of the map.  “We’re all thinking the same thing: Whoever’s fucking with us up north is at least working with whoever’s fucking with Darkwood.  Might even be the same people.”

“Hmm…”  Aym pondered the information given by the High Priests.  Leshy was right.  Whether it was the work of one group or several, it was clearly coordinated.  But by who?  “I find it unlikely that this was done by the Old Faith Remnants.  They don’t have the numbers for something like this.  Not since the Great Purge of 799.”

“True.  But then, who could this enemy be?”  Narinder spoke with concern.  “Too many pieces are missing.  And what is their objective?  What is their plan?”

“Killing the faithful and undermining the Lady?  Seems likely.”  Baal chimed in.

“No.”  Shamura spoke next.  “This is deeper than that.  They mean to strike the Capital.”

“...Explain.”  Narinder said.

“Every town and temple they’ve razed sits on an important supply route to the Capital.  Weapons, tools, nails and other metal supplies; all made in Silk Cradle and sent wherever they are needed, primarily south.  Would I be correct in assuming those towns razed in Darkwood sit on the primary food supply line?”

Leshy gave a nod.

“Then as far as I’m concerned, this couldn’t be clearer.  This enemy knows we cannot ignore such attacks.  They will be waiting for us to respond in kind.”

Shamura leaned forwards, a serious expression on their face.  “I believe that whatever this is started long before the villages were attacked.  There are agents of this enemy watching this town.  Waiting for the Crusaders to be…  to… be…”  Shamura suddenly started to wobble before falling backwards.  Narinder moved swiftly to catch them.

“...I’m… sorry, where exactly am I?”  Shamura spoke weakly.

“...Rest, sibling.  You have done enough.”  Narinder helped Shamura to their feet and walked them over to a chair.

“I think I know what they were going to say, though.”  Aym said.  “The enemy wants us to believe the Crusaders are needed elsewhere.  Once they are out of the Capital, they will strike.  They likely mean to kill the Archbishop, and any other high ranking members of the church.”

“...So I’m not going to Silk Cradle.”  Baal seemed to deflate somewhat.

“Is that truly all you’re concerned with, brother?”

“No, you are.”  Leshy said.  “You have to.”

Narinder’s brow furrowed.  “That is not your decision to make.”

“Right.  But you’re going to agree with me, and I’ll tell you why.”  A smug smile came across Leshy’s face.  “Because you don’t have a choice.  These schmucks are waiting for us to send reinforcements out to Silk Cradle and Darkwood.  If we don’t, they’ll know we’ve figured them out and go to plan B, which we know fuck all about.  So we let them think they have us.  We send the Crusaders away and wait for their little assassination attempt.”

“Feign ignorance to lure them in.  Clever…”  Narinder smirked.  “Alright.  I am declaring a new Crusade.  Aym.”

“Master.”

“You will take the Third through the Sixth companies to Darkwood.  Baal will take the Seventh through the Tenth to Silk Cradle.”

Baal almost seemed to begin vibrating.

“The First and Second companies will remain here, but I will need to speak with their captains in private.  They will be placed to foil this assassination.”  Narinder leaned forward, a darkness in his eyes.  “Speak of this to no one.”

“Of course.”

“Yes, master!”

“Yeah, yeah, fucker.”

“Alright.  I will need to announce this to the flock, and it’s about time for the morning sermon anyhow.  Leshy, can I trust you to care for Shamura until they have recovered?”

“Sure, sure.  Probably wasn’t gonna head out right away anyhow.  Come on, old timer.”

“I…  am not that much older than you anymore.”

“Yeah, ok elder”

“Aym?  Baal?”  Narinder turned to the twin Bishops.  “Gather your forces.  You depart tomorrow.”

“Yes, master.”  The twins spoke in unison.  Yet, as their Master departed, Aym could feel his earlier apprehension returning.  There was something more to this, he could feel it.  But he could not ask the Archbishop to act on a hunch.

No, he would simply need to remain vigilant.

[whumped-by-glitter]

I have decided to try to make all of the prompts part of a single story.

Day 1 Here< >Day 3 Here

WOW's Birthday Event- Day 2: Starvation / Thirst / “Please…”

⚠️CW: creepy/intimate whumper, starvation, captivity, torture.

Whumpee had been with Whumper several days now, or at least they thought. Time passed so strangely without any sunlight to mark the passing days. In fact, Whumper hadn’t even been there since Whumpee was captured. Nobody had.

It had been days since Whumpee had eaten. They hadn’t even been given water since being first chained down here. The chains that held them to the wall chafed. They only allowed whumpee just enough room to sit against the cold stone wall.

Whumpee’s stomach growled, they were beginning to worry they would just waste away in the dark down here, forgotten. They desperately needed food and water.

Their thoughts turned to their team, trying to desperately to distract them self. Whumpee wondered what Youngest was doing right now without them. Whumpee and Youngest would do everything together, often causing chaos for the other team members in the process. The memories made them chuckle, brightening them a bit.

Whumpee allowed their thoughts to move to caretaker. Caretaker was the gentlest member of the team, a talented healer. They were a terrible cook though, they laughed out loud, the sound echoing off the cold stone through darkness. It rang back cold and harsh, drawing Whumpee back to the lonely emptiness of what they were pretty sure was a basement or a dungeon.

All at once a blinding light filled the area. Whumpee had been in the dark so long it burned their eyes. They were convinced for a moment their eyes would never be able to adjust again.

Whumper strode over to the pitiful captive, with their eyes squeezed shut. “Good morning, my beautiful new masterpiece,” Whumper chirped happily. “I trust you slept well.”

Once Whumpee’s eyes finally adjusted to the light, their heart sank. This wasn’t who they were originally fighting, like he assumed. This was someone completely new. Whumpee hadn’t been captured, hey realized in horror that they had been abducted, kidnapped. Even if the team tried to rescue them they wouldn’t be there.

“Hello? Darling? Anyone home,” Whumper wave their hand in front of their face, still sounding disturbingly chipper.

“Please, water…” Whumpee croaked, their voice sound even rougher than expected. The light and noise was beginning to give them a headache.

“Oh, no, no, my sweet, I need you pale, a blank canvas for my art,” Whumper’s voice dripped with false sweetness. “if you do well for me you might get some later.” Whumper unshackled Whumpee’s wrists, only to put them immediately into handcuffs. They then repeated the process with Whumpee’s ankles. Just for sure measure Whumper also forced a ball gag with a panel over the lips into their mouth. They wrenched the buckles cruelly tight over Whumpee’s mouth, bringing tears to the corners of Whumpee’s eyes.

It was only after it was ensured Whumpee could not escape that Whumper turned on the lights to the rest of the room. What was revealed caused Whumpee to start whimpering and crying.

There was a wall full of all kinds of implements that looked like they were for torture, as well as various bondage furniture and furniture that just looked like it was for straight torture. To top it all off there was a small stage in the corner with a camera set up, and a rack of clothes next to it.

“We’re going to have such a good time dear; I’m going to make you so pretty for your photo shoot,” Whumper said, cheerfully. “Now, let’s start by decorating that lovely skin.”

Whumper guided the now absolutely terrified Whumpee to a bench. They laid them down on top of the handcuffs without locking them first, causing them to wrench down tight on Whumpee’s wrist, biting into their flesh. This made Whumpee let out a muffled scream.

“Oh, what a lovely noise!” Whumper exclaimed, “you didn’t tell me you were into musical art!”

Whumper was becoming more unsettling by the second. Whumpee hated to admit it to themself, but he wished it had been the arms dealer the team tried to take out to capture him. The person who had him currently was completely deranged.

Whumper secured Whumpee to the bench and then walked over to the wall with all of the tools. Whumpee began to tremble.

Whumper selected several knives, at least that’s what Whumpee thought it looked like from their limited view. Soon Whumper was skipping- literally skipping- back to Whumpee.

“Now sweetheart, lets make you gorgeous before we dress you up for the photo shoot,” Whumper had a wide, unsettling grin that sent shivers down Whumpee’s spine.

They tried to struggle, to break loose, desperate to get away, but it was no use, squirming only caused the handcuffs to tighten further. “Oh right, I almost forgot!” Whumper sat the knives down next to Whumpee’s face on the bench. He disappeared somewhere…. Above them?…. Behind them?.... Whumpee’s brain wasn’t thinking straight, they were starving, severely dehydrated and terrified.

Whumper returned with a video recorder. They sat up the tripod off to the side of the bench Whumpee was secured to. “We need to record the creative process; how could I have almost forgotten?” Whumper ran his fingertips along Whumpee’s chest. “absolutely pristine,” they said, barely above a whisper. “I think I’ll add some red.” Whumper picked up a short, needle-like knife.

Event Masterlist

@whumperofworlds

[hes-a-rat-whisperer]

“Reunion”

Fairytale!au

Although Felly had been gone for months, Mattie and Gossy had FINALLY received news from their husband that he would be home within the week! The two couldn’t be more excited, and decided to head down to the marketplace to find the perfect welcome home present for the handsome wendigo. As usual the two went down without any escorts, after all the two always felt their kingdom was safe enough!

Little did they know the hell that would unfold that morning…..

It all started when Matilda had decided to go into one of the tents to try on different special gowns, and of course modeling in them for her pretty puppy to see, when, while the young pregnant queen was getting changed, Gosgo was approached by an all too familiar face.

“Your highness!” The disturbingly chipper voice of the man who’d the king come across all those years ago, the one who sold Mattie to him. He was still much taller than the blonde, although older looking and with grey hair, but that disturbing knowing grin said everything. His name was Lord Lucien, and although slave trading had now been outlawed since the prince had met his future wife, it would see this scumbag was still around.

“You’re JUST the man I’ve been looking for! How have you been?”

Gosgo imediately frowned as soon as that horrible man´s visage entered his peripheral vision. "what are you doing here..?" the king´s tone sounded so dismissive, really unnatural for the always so chipper and friendly royal.

in fact, from the way he was saying it, it almost sounded like he was actually asking ´shouldn´t you be in jail?´

[adara-of-the-flame]

the-name-is-hoggle

When the Spring labeled part of Selva’s example diagram is shattered, Hoggle can’t help a slight flinch at the shattering noise. And he stares at the dramatic display of the water spilling out and everything fading away. His own blue eyes as wide as Mars’ obscured ones.

Which was definitely the point of the whole demonstration. To shock them. To emphasize just how important the place of the seasons- Hoggle’s place - in Everything. The dwarf is so caught up in this mental vibe check that he barely registers Mars asking about The Butterfly Effect to Selva.

Honestly that whole concept would have simply confused him at best, so it was probably for the better that he didn’t take it in at all. He kept just staring at where the once ring of light had been, up until Selva addressed him directly once more. And then he was staring at her.

”……..no wonder you all want to make sure if I can do this job or not….“

Hoggle found himself muttering, hand moving up to rub at his face as his expression shifted to one of determined concern. He from just a groundskeeper of the Labyrinth to an exile with a mocking title to….a load bearing pillar of reality.

It was like a really weird joke, or something.

adara-of-the-flame

"Oh, that ship has sailed by now." Selva Roja's voice switched back to disturbingly chipper and casual. "'Can' went out the window when you accepted your post from Saisho No Me. Now, we're all the way to, 'Must'. You Must do the job."

Out of habit, Mars raised a pair of hands. "But, isn't he doing that just by living? He's not dead, so Spring's not dead, so nobody else in the Cycle is dead. ...Right?"

"Right. ...And, I suppose he could stay like that. Spring will definately live, and life will continue as normal. But...he still needs all the gifts of Spring for the Cycle to work properly. And...if he doesn't know how to handle all that power..."

"....Would Spring blow up? Would he blow something up accidentally?"

"I won't say, 'Yes', and I won't say, 'No'."

"Oh." Mars nodded. This all made perfect sense. And, then she turned to Hoggle, as though she felt bad about talking about him like he wasn't right there. "I think it's like my sister and our voice magic. We had to get training so we didn't accidentally scream loud enough that we turned something into red mist." ....Despite her pleasant enough tone, she seemed to be speaking from experience.

"Ew." Selva Roja made a face. "Well, you get the idea, Hoggle. You can take the Blooming Throne as you are, but great power without control is dangerous. The gifts I have for you the Gifts of Abundance and Warm Light. And, the power to call back the Southern Birds to your Realm. Right now, you only have Abundance: the awakening, growth, and production of plants." The giant Summer Queen leaned back into a lounging position. "So! Grow me some plants! Really dig deep and show me what you got."

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

Meanwhile, having retreated from the hubub of dwarves, Yumika settled high into a nearby tree to send Beetleglum another message:

I hate Summer heat. Spring's heir Gifted Abundance. His power tested.

Folded and sealed, the kitsune's haiku was handed off to a messenger fairy. Yumika hoped things were going well on Beetleglum's end....

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the stench of this terrible blog…bleck!”

[bodegacowboy]

First Steps (revised)

I technically already posted this story here: https://www.tumblr.com/bodegacowboy/779828649310502912/first-steps?source=share

At the time, I was experimenting with a minimalist style. I personally liked how it turned out, but in hindsight, it might not have been the best fit for this kind of piece. So I revised the story, some parts are better now, some not as much, but that’s how it goes. I actually ended up liking both versions for different reasons.

If you read both and have a preference, I’d love to hear which one you prefer.

Gaara came to visit. A rare occurrence in itself, enough to stir a ripple of excitement through the village. When Gaara came, people came. It was an event. Not a summit. Not politics. This time? Fun. So the night was alive with laughter, with the warm glow of Ichiraku’s lanterns casting a golden hue over a mismatched group crammed into the corner booth. As the hours slipped by, the crowd had thinned until down to a dedicated group of fun seekers. Gaara, Team Seven, Team Ten, and Konohamaru, who had somehow weaseled his way in, by declaring himself the "spice of youth" they desperately needed.

Ramen flew, laughter echoed, and someone, Chouji, was probably going to regret the excessive intake of chili oil in the morning. 

Naruto sat directly across from Sakura, his fingers drumming absently against his bowl of half-finished ramen. She was deep in conversation with Ino, their heads bent together like co-conspirators. Every so often, Sakura would laugh, that bright, unguarded sound always broke through the noise and reached him. It had a ramen-like warming effect on him and he couldn’t help but look her way.

Then he would pretend he hadn’t been staring when she inevitably caught him.

One moment, he got caught red handed.No ambiguity. No plausible deniability. She caught him and held his gaze for a heartbeat longer than necessary before she turned back to Ino, a faint flush creeping up her neck.

Naruto turned to his bowl and slurped away his confusion. 

Some time later another chuckle caught Naruto’s attention. There was a hint of uncertainty in the laughter this time. Through the sides of his eyes he saw Ino smirking, pouring Sakura another cup of tea with deliberate slowness.

"You're scheming," Sakura accused, narrowing her eyes.

"Who, me?" Ino blinked innocently.

"Something is going on. I feel it."

Ino leaned in, whispering something that made Sakura’s lips part in surprise. 

Naruto looked away before she could catch him again.

Then, chaos.

Konohamaru dropped his chopsticks with a clatter. "New plan! The hill near the old training field!"

"The overlook?" Chouji asked, already gathering his things.

"Clear night sky," Sai added with unusual chipperness. "Better view."

"Less crowded," Shikamaru drawled, as if this were the most logical next step in the evening.

Naruto frowned. "What’s wrong with here?"

"Nothing," Ino chirped. "Just… changing it up."

And then, like a well rehearsed magic trick, they vanished, one by one, in puffs of smoke, leaving behind logs, dummies, and a disturbingly lifelike ink drawing of Sai that winked at them.

Naruto blinked. "Huh?"

Sakura shrugged.

"The hill," the drawn Sai said helpfully. "Better view."

XXXXXXXX

They stepped into the crisp night, with broth aroma clinging to their clothes. Sakura hugged her arms to her chest, Naruto immediately shrugged off his jacket, then hesitated, holding it awkwardly instead of offering it.

"This is how they treat the future Hokage?" he grumbled.

"It’s sort of funny." Sakura said, her voice breezy.

"Would be funnier if the joke wasn’t on us."

"You think this is a prank?"

"Konohamaru left me with the bill last month. Classic prank. Though at some point, it stops being a prank and starts being a cheapness issue."

Her expression softened, and for a moment, he forgot what they were even talking about.

Then it hit him. "This isn’t a prank?"

She tilted her head toward the path. "Come on. Let’s walk."

They fell into step beside each other, the silence between them comfortable, familiar. They sauntered past the old stone wall cracked, mossy, burdened with years of adolescent ninja abuse.

"Remember when you fell off that thing?" Sakura asked, grinning.

"Never happened."

"You landed on that rock shaped like, well… let’s just say it was unfortunate. Like a surprise Thousand Years of Death strike."

"An innocent man, betrayed by his village’s landscape. That’s funny to you?"

"You had to be there."

"I was there."

She bumped his shoulder, and he grinned despite himself.

They passed the academy. No words. Just memories and steps.

"You’re being unusually quiet," she noted.

"Am I?"

"You always fill in the silence."

"Not this one," he admitted. "I like this one."

And for a while, they simply walked, letting the quiet settle around them like a warm blanket.

Until she broke it.

"Okay, happier memory. That flood while we were training?"

"Soaked. Mud up to our knees. You yelled a lot, Sakura."

"I’ll apologize for the yelling if you apologize for getting us lost."

"Shortcut."

"We ended up cutting across a swamp."

"A muddy shortcut."

They laughed, shoulders brushing.

"Sakura, that’s not a happy memory."

"Sure it is. We survived."

"Good point."

Their boots crunched soft gravel in sync. Seconds stretched.

"I apologize," she said quietly. "For the yelling. Back then."

He shrugged, careless. "Okay. I apologize for the very muddy, quicksand-filled shortcut."

Not quite a grin from her, but close. "We got home."

Another pause, longer this time.

Naruto exhaled. "It’s funny looking back on that. Sasuke went off alone that day. Got himself more lost than we were."

She didn’t answer right away. Then, softly: "He found his way back to us, eventually."

Naruto winked. "Some people take the long way home."

She grinned. "Very Sage-like. Channeling Jiraiya?"

"You’re saying I sound more mature."

She pretended to consider it. "Actually, with all due respect… maturity wasn’t Jiraiya’s strongest virtue."

"Hey, he was wise! He taught me a lot about life."

"I don’t doubt that."

"I remember we were in Koka and-" He stopped. Coughed. Turned away.

"Actually, that story might not be the best one."

Sakura’s eyes gleamed. "If I remember my geography, Koka’s famous, or infamous, for hostesses and nightclubs."

"There were parks there too! And a really nice rose garden."

"So what happened?"

He licked his lips. "Eh. The message is more important than the plot."

"That bad?"

"No. Just… eventful. There was a happy ending."

She gave him a look, amused, skeptical.

His hands rose in surrender. "A nice, happy, innocent ending. Eventually."

"No ladies of the evening were involved?"

He scratched his cheek. "Define involved."

"I think you need to define innocent."

"Okay, fine, he had a reputation. But around me? He was a gentleman."

"Really?"

"…No, not really. But he could’ve been worse."

She laughed, shoulders shaking, ribs aching.

And he watched her, helpless, his heart dancing a stupid jig in his chest.

When she caught her breath, she brushed a few strands of hair behind her ear. The laugh softened into a smile.

He held out his jacket.

She took it, slipping it on quietly.

They kept walking.

XXXXXXXXXXX

The breeze nipped at them. Cold, but not cruel. Naruto kicked at a loose stone, hands buried deep in his pockets.

Sakura bumped his arm. "You’re thinking too loud."

He glanced at her. "Something about this feels a little mean."

"Mean?"

"Sorry they pulled you into this."

"Into what?"

"I’m fair game. But they know better than to put this on you."

She listened, waiting.

He huffed. "It’s just… not fair. Putting you in this spot."

"And what about you? Are they putting you in a spot?"

"They shouldn’t assume," he said, meeting her eyes.

She blinked, just once.

Then, softly: "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"What is love?"

He nearly choked. "What?"

"Love. To you. How do you define it?"

His hand found the back of his neck, rubbing gently. "Going out of your way for someone, even if it hurts."

"That’s loyalty."

"They’re family," he said. "But love is something more than loyalty. When it’s the one… the difference is in the feeling. Different kind of hurt. Different kind of joy."

"You believe that?"

"I did. Still do. It’s complicated." He breathed in, slow. "Jiraiya loved Tsunade. She loved Dan. Sometimes it hurts. But it’s still love. I think."

Sakura nodded. "Do you think you can believe something for so long, and then… start to wonder?"

"About love?"

"About many things. But also about love. You wonder what you were feeling. And what you weren’t."

Naruto thought of his parents—of the stories, the legacy, the way love could be both a wound and a balm.

"I think of my parents," Naruto said. "The stories, the legacy, of the way they love. Their kind of love helps me make sense of things."

"So you’d agree there are kinds of love."

He nodded. "Sure. I love my friends. I’d fight for them. Even when it hurts. But…"

"But romantic love is different."

"Yeah. That… that can sneak up on you."

"An ambush."

His lips quirked. "Yeah. Maybe."

She stopped walking, turning to face him fully. "How do you know, Naruto? When is it real?"

He swayed on his feet, suddenly off-balance. "I don’t know how to define it, really. I just know it when I feel it."

She smirked. "That’s a Naruto answer."

"Well, I am Naruto."

She didn’t reply. Just smiled.

Silence. They continued walking. 

Then, softer: "Can I try something?"

He nodded.

She rubbed her thumb against her palm, gathering courage. "Tell me if this sounds like love."

"Alright."

"It’s feeling safe. Not because the world is safe, but because of who’s beside you."

His breath slowed.

"It’s being quiet together and knowing nothing is missing. You can be wrong, but not feel wrong for them."

His pulse thudded in his ears.

"It’s missing them when they’re gone. Breathing easier when they’re near."

Her voice dropped to a whisper.

"Sound familiar?"

He swallowed. "A little."

Two deep breaths. A humming pause.

Then, quietly: "That’s not what I had with Sasuke."

Naruto’s jaw tightened, but he kept pace with her, eyes fixed ahead.

"It’s easy to believe it has to hurt," she continued. "Like training. Push past the pain, and you’re getting stronger."

She shook her head. "But there was no strength. Only the hurt."

Her gaze drifted past him, searching. "I thought I knew. But maybe I didn’t."

Naruto shook his head. "What if he’d stayed? If he’d wanted to stay?"

She slowed, the wind tugging at her hair. "I’m not sure that’s fair."

"It’s about what’s real. Not what’s fair."

She met his eyes. "It wasn’t real.”

He didn’t reply. 

“This isn’t really about Sasuke."

Confusion flickered across his face. "Then what is this?"

She bit her lip. "This is me. Catching up."

A breath released.

A breath taken.

The lanterns were behind them now, the path leading toward the overlook.

She stopped, turning to face him fully. "You can think you’re brave. Until something really scares you. Then you learn."

Her fingers brushed his sleeve, fidgeting. "Right now, walking with you… I think I’m learning."

He stared at her, heart hammering.

"I'm new at this," she admitted, fingers twisting the sleeve of his jacket. "So... I might need your help."

The words hung between them, fragile as cherry blossom petals caught in the wind.

Naruto said nothing. But his breath hitched, slightly, as they passed a garden where lavender perfumed the air, sweet and stubborn.

The scent unraveled a memory:

A forgotten mission. Not grand or tragic, just ordinary. He’d taken a big hit, laughed through bloodied teeth, and insisted he could keep fighting. He wanted to keep fighting. 

Sakura hadn’t argued. Just pressed her palm flat against his chest, fingers splayed over his heartbeat, and said, "Shut up and rest."

And he had.

Now, walking beside her, he fought a smile at the memory.

"You think this was Ino’s plan?" he asked, kicking a pebble.

"Most likely."

"Not Konohamaru?"

"Please. His idea of romance would be a lot less subtle."

A chuckle. "Shikamaru, then?"

"Too much effort."

"Chouji?"

"He’d only follow Ino’s lead for something like this."

"Sai?"

They paused.

"Sai doesn’t meddle, well not like this" Sakura said.

A grin. "So. Ino."

"The mastermind."

"What do you think she’s got waiting up there?"

Sakura’s nose scrunched. "Maybe balloons. Confetti. A full choir."

Naruto groaned. "A banner that says ‘FINALLY’."

"Too much," they said in unison.

He exhaled sharply. "What’d she whisper to you back at Ichiraku?"

Sakura’s lips curved. "‘Don’t overthink it, forehead.’"

Naruto’s gaze dropped. His hands vanished into his pockets, shoulders hunching like he could fold himself smaller.

"Still upset?" she murmured.

"Sort of." 

"They mean well," she replied.

A gust of wind cut him off, sharp enough to stagger him. Or maybe it wasn’t the wind. Maybe he tripped over a stone, a twig, his own feet. It could have been anything, he’d been unbalanced by the weight of his own thoughts for a while now.

He was on his way down when her fingers suddenly gripped his arm, steadying him, burning through his sleeve.

He regained his pace and for one suspended heartbeat, the world narrowed down to her lingering touch. 

"Don’t overthink it," he whispered, echoing Ino’s words.

The path before them darkened, shadows pooling between the trees. Sakura turned toward them, but Naruto stopped.

"Wait."

He studied her face. The green of her eyes, suddenly brighter than any star

She held still, letting him look. Letting him see.

And then before he could overthink it, before he could ruin it, he leaned in.

No hesitation

No grand plan

She met him halfway.

The kiss was soft, tentative, perfect.

When they pulled apart, her cheeks were pink.

"An ambush?" she teased.

He grinned, sheepish. "I don’t know how to define it, really. But I know it when I feel it."

She nodded.

"So do I."

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

On the overlook, the others waited.

Torch lights glowed. A table had been set. Flowers. A band.

Too much.

Naruto turned to Sakura.

She was already turning to him.

His grin came slowly.

Her smirk followed.

A nod passed between them.

Poof.

Poof.

When the smoke cleared, two logs lay on the ground.

Konohamaru scratched his head. "That was unexpected."

Ino chuckled. "They bailed."

Chouji sighed. "What now, Mister Mastermind?"

Shikamaru looked at the setup, then at the logs, then at the night sky.

Then he just sat down.

"She was wearing his jacket."

Konohamaru threw his hands up. "That’s it? A jacket? I expected fireworks."

"The fireworks were for later," Sai added. “Also I had a genjutsu prepared just in case.”

"For the record, I learned the choreography," Chouji muttered. "I would’ve nailed it."

Shikamaru exhaled, smiling. "I don't know what happened. But whatever happened, I hope it was effective. I'm just tired of watching them dance around it."

"Something has changed," Gaara announced. 

"What?" Konohamaru asked. 

"The smiles. The look, something is different," Gaara replied.

Ino smirked, satisfied. "If you know, you know."

Somewhere else, they walked.

Nothing planned.

Nothing expected.

Just them.

Steps shared.

And lavender in the air.

Soft. Firm. Theirs.

THE END.

[phantasmiafxndom]

What would it be like to own demon kyoujurou and akaza at the same time? Like you rescue kyo then akaza later. How do they get along? How needy are they towards reader?

• Akaza has never been around another demon in a way that didn't involve violence. He has no idea how to handle this, and he's highly uncomfortable with the entire idea of sharing space with another of his kind. Kyoujurou, meanwhile, is as socialized as demons get, and almost too friendly. He's perfectly eager to have a companion present... and seems to lack any comprehension that Akaza isn't equally thrilled about the arrangement.

• For a while, Akaza is convinced that he's intruding on another demon's territory, and that he's about to be mauled because of it. He's horribly tense around Kyoujurou (even though he could win that fight, it wouldn't do him any good), always expecting the other to suddenly drop the chipper, friendly act and turn violent instead. Kyoujurou clearly has a happy home here, so his presence is the very definition of unwanted. Akaza knows that he's not fit for indoor living, and he likes it even less when it's shared.

• Meanwhile, Kyoujurou is just concerned. Why doesn't Akaza understand that your home is a good place? That you're only trying to take care of them, and that there's no reason to be so tense? Kyoujurou is unfortunately quite dense, but even he can't miss how disturbingly tense Akaza is at all times. In the end, though, he's the socializing factor— seeing another demon so comfortable and content is what gets through to Akaza.

• Even once they're both settled, Kyoujurou is by far the most outwardly needy. He's very direct about his feelings, including how eager he is to be of use to his beloved owner and stay close to you. Akaza, meanwhile, is silently dying of secondhand shame every time Kyoujurou says something like that so easily. How can he show his trust like that? Isn't he afraid at all?

• Akaza is needy in more subtle ways. Thanks to the trauma of the fight ring, emotional issues are what need attention whether he'll admit it or not. He worries a lot that something terrible will happen to you— that you'll get hurt, die, or disappear, and that his finally-decent life will vanish right along with you. This manifests as aggressively protective behavior, mostly... as well as rare occasions of him seeking out closeness on his own.

[snowyfrostshadows]

Kinda. Kinda like this???

Florosprout!Mario/SPM brainwashed Mario has so much potential but everyone just turns him into a Mr. L clone. He has potential to be the hottest bitch alive but instead you Mr. L clone him. Mr. L is the inverse of Luigi in his key aspects- He's loud, fearless, and wants to be the center of attention. It also emphasizes his key traits to an unhealthy degree- His jealousy of his brother is now his main motivation rather than a background thought process he oftentimes can ignore. Florosprout Mario would NOT be like Mr. L, he would be more akin to someone like Dimentio in all honesty; Emphasizing his love of making people happy to that unhealthy degree via "clownification" while ditching his honest nature for one much more manipulative and dishonest. He'd be like a brooding shy but creepy clown or something you people don't even understand

[trixree]

The General’s foundling is a menace.

Wolffe has been informed by multiple parties across multiple instances that Ahsoka is in fact not the General’s foundling because the Jedi don’t lay claims like rabid Mandos catching the scent of an orphan and barking over their preferred adoptees. However, seeing as how Ahsoka is somehow always around to be doted upon, Wolffe has firmly categorized her as “the General’s foundling” and he will not be moved.

Oh, the doting.

“Hi Commander Wolffe!” Ahsoka greets, chipper. Always so chipper, this one. She gets it from the General. Or, possibly, from that Skywalker kid; among Wolffe’s many resolutions is that he will not, under any circumstance, acknowledge that Skywalker is a General—that boy is a cadet in spirit if not in body.

He grunts at her. He is very busy. Very very busy reading… things. Where is the General? The General should be here to corral his vermin.

“Where are your vambraces? I know Guts worked up some plastoid for you the last time you were stowing away—” Wolffe begins, once again affronted by the child’s insistence that a tiny scrap of fabric is simultaneously enough protection and enough insulation from the cold vacuum of space, superior Togruta physiology or not.

“I’m not a stowaway,” she rebukes, wrinkling her nose in a classic tubie-move. “I’m on loan from the 501st for a very important mission.”

Wolffe raises an eyebrow—the scarred one—at her. “So important you came without your armor?” She bares her sharp teeth at him. Wolffe bares his back. That’s his move, vod’ika. Nice try. “What is that shebs Rex teaching you?”

“Violence,” Ahsoka retorts.

“Is that what we’re calling your scrapping, now?”

“I’ll scrap you,” she volleys back, full of youthful glee and bloodlust. She is disturbingly similar to Wolffe himself at that stage in growth. Ninety-pounds of menace and montrals, this ad.

“Little ‘Soka!” his General booms as he swans into the bridge, usual grace and poise abandoned in favor of sweeping his foundling into a spine-cracking hug.

This is Plo’s preferred method of greeting all life-forms unless there are other Jedi around. The last time Skywalker, General Kenobi, and General Plo were in the same room with Ahsoka, they all just stood there smiling with their hands stuffed in their ridiculous robes to avoid the embarrassment of admitting to one another that they have soft and squishy feelings about their collective padawan. Sinker took a holo. It has a place of honor on Plo’s desk. Wolffe has it saved to the hard storage of his HUD.

“Hi Master Plo!” Ahsoka replies with enthusiasm. She remembers herself after a moment—more accurately, remembers her ongoing feud with Wolffe about how she is really actually a very respectable adult Jedi—and takes a hasty step back before bowing all polite-like. “Thank you for having me, Master Plo. I look forward to learning from you this week.”

“Week?” Wolffe demands as Plo chuckles and bows, respectably, back to his foundling. “Week? You said week? We’re making landfall the day after tomorrow.”

His General and his General’s tag-along are unphased by this news.

“And Commander Tano will be accompanying us while her Master engages Dooku’s forces with the 212th Battalion,” his General says reasonably. He turns and places a soothing claw on Wolffe’s shoulder. Behind him, Ahsoka sticks her tongue out at him. Little shit. “It is simply a relief mission, Wolffe,” Plo assures him.

Wolffe swallows a protest that Ahsoka is not their responsibility. He swallows it because his General knows it, because he knows it, because Skywalker and Kenobi and everyone else likely already knows it. After the Malevolence, she’s been “on-loan” to their slowly recovering little unit more often than not. And it helps. Sith fucking hell, does it help.

She brings them all to life—all of them who remain.

It doesn’t stop the encroaching guilt that she shouldn’t be here. She’s a karking cadet, for fuck’s sake. Not even the Kaminoans ship clones out before their last growth cycle. It’s cruel to let a child mingle among soldiers before they’re ready. It’s wrong to have her sleep on a ship that’s more empty than it is full, where men wake up screaming in the night for vode who are marching far ahead.

The Jedi are different except for all the ways in which they aren’t, not at all. They aren't the gods the Kaminoans made them out to be. They're people, too. Just flesh and blood people. And Wolffe… doesn’t want to see this ad broken.

“Armor,” he manages. “At the very least, a shirt and some vambraces.”

Ahsoka scowls. “It—”

“‘Restricts your mobility’?” the scowl deepens with Wolffe's every word, her facial markings folding into extreme angles. “General, would you say your armor restricts your mobility?”

General Plo hums his amused hum. It is different from his pondering hum, his “are you sure about that?” hum, and his “the foolishness is going to continue?” hum in that his mandibles twitch upwards and to the right. He steeples his claws in front of him, the picture of serene innocence.

“Hardly, my dear Wolffe.”

Wolffe turns to Cody's problem vod'ika's problem vod'ika. He crouches, because difficult vod’ike love it when you crouch to speak to them. Case in point: Rex, who liked it so very much that he took Wolffe crouching down as an open invitation to give him a big ol’ keldabe kiss, regardless of which trainers or Alphas were around. (That reminds him; he owes the little blonde bastard a comm call.)

“Best get to training then, huh, soldier?” Wolffe drawls.

The tiniest of growls builds as Ahsoka rocks up onto her toes and sneers, “Gladly, Wolfy.”

He feels his eyebrows climb, scar tissue pulling uncomfortably. In one swift move, he drops his datapads to the deck with a clatter and exchanges them for a shrieking togruta-shaped sack of tubers which he tosses upside down over his shoulder.

"HEY!"

“General, I’ve got a mouthy sheb here that just earned a one-way ticket to additional combat training. Permission to abandon my post?” Ahsoka pounds on his back-plate with open hands, wriggling in his grasp like a strill.

Plo chuckles. “Of course, Commander. Try not to leave her too sore to attend to her homework, will you?”

“Noooo, Master Plo—” Ahsoka whines in a truly lethal pitch. It could shatter transparisteel, that pitch. Why hasn't she tried that on the Sepratists, yet? What is Rex teaching her, for fuck's sake?

“I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning for saber drills, young one,” the General says in a delightful parting. “Enjoy your training!”

“I won't!" she calls back, still struggling.

“Damn right you won’t,” Wolffe says and closes the door behind them on their way out.

[novantinuum]

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: T

Words: ~800

Summary: His family’s not present, the third time he runs away. They never see the creature he becomes.

Early corruption AU.

In which Connie shows up and passes on some information.

If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3 as well. Thank you! <3

____

Connie Maheswaran’s alarm clock was nearing 6 AM when she found herself rudely stirred by those ambiguous yet hauntingly familiar stress nightmares.

Not ten minutes later, she was fully clothed, awake and doing some catch-up studying, mostly as an weak excuse to push recent troubling events off her mind.

Regardless of her attempts at self-distraction, she caved to her baser impulses and decided to try her hand at calling Steven around 7:40, knowing full well that he also has a penchant for poor sleep and waking up early, even on weekends. In retrospect, she supposes it was fear that prompted that phone call. Fear of losing her best friend. Fear that if she failed to reach out, he’d never speak to her again. She still feels terrible for the heartbreak and embarrassment he endured at that picnic, and given what happened at the hospital, he doesn’t seem to be over it. With that in mind, she honestly didn’t expect he’d pick up at all.

Yet pick up he did. Connie still doesn’t believe she possesses the vocabulary to properly describe the strange vibes she read from him during all that. He seemed... off. Overly chipper, perhaps. Deliberately evasive.

The disturbingly glitched plea for help came a few minutes past that encounter. Next, the news that he’d disappeared. Her review session dragged along at a snail’s pace after that.

By noon, she couldn’t bear the insufferable burden of so many unknowns anymore. Forget finalizing all her notecards for that stupid AP biology exam, her best friend could be in trouble! Who on Earth can focus on studying with peril like that hanging over their head? She doesn’t want to wait at the sidelines for updates, she wants to help! So she grabbed her shoes, slung her sword’s scabbard over her back, and set off to Beach City on Lion, who had thankfully been snoozing in her backyard the whole past day. And that, as they say, is history.

“Yeah, I was talking to him, like... just a few minutes before he sent that text!” Connie explains to two of Steven’s guardians, gently petting the cotton candy mane of the magical lion resting in the sand next to her. He offers a content rumble under the comfort of her touch. The affection is admittedly rather reassuring, considering the whole troubling pickle they’re all in right now.

“And he didn’t seem to be in any immediate peril?” Pearl asks, tracing abstract patterns in the sand.

“No,” she says, tilting her head as she considers what she recalls about that strange conversation. “Well... not any physical peril. He did hang up pretty fast, though.”

“So he’s been avoiding you, too, then,” Amethyst— keeping Steven’s favorite jacket warm— mutters glumly, twirling one of her fingers through a long strand of her hair.

“Um...” Connie can’t help but cringe as the unpleasant rollercoaster of emotions she’s had to experience throughout the last week suddenly rears its ugly head again. “It’s kinda complicated. I’m not really sure how much I should say, or if I should say anything, y’know? Some of it’s personal.”

Amethyst offers a laugh and tries to give her a teasing noogie, which she deftly pulls away from. “If it’s about that whole proposal thing, trust me, we know.”

She flushes deep, gaze dropping to her lap. “I, uh... that’s part of it.”

At Pearl’s gentle request, she tells them both about Steven’s picnic date, and about his trip to the hospital two days later. About his issue with glowing pink and swelling, something which the Gems reveal they’ve witnessed, too. Her recounting of how he nearly wrecked an entire check-up room and shattered the windows with naught but a raised voice seems to particularly catch Amethyst’s attention, however, causing her to ask a good few follow-up questions. Connie chooses not to pry about it then, but she recognizes the look of a detective with a lead when she sees it.

She waits until they’re alone about a half hour later to ask.

“I dunno,” Amethyst shrugs in response to her query, gripping a snow-cone in her hand, “it’s just that... the others have been pretending like the wreckage to the house and everything Steven’s been dealing with lately are two entirely separate things, but... the more I think about it, the more I can’t believe they are. And for me, what you told us ‘bout the hospital kinda just sells it.”

Connie frowns pensively, crossing her arms across her chest. “I can see how he might’ve wrecked the house by swelling too big, but... what about the clawed footprints? The roar?”

The quartz’s gaze shifts towards the ocean horizon, her expression hardening into something unreadable.

“Well, I have my suspicions... and my fears. Just no way to prove ‘em yet.”

[enby-enderdragon]

i know you asked for one life or hermitcraft but you did take a harmony hollow suggestion SO “loving you, was never the right thing for me to do” for shubble and graser?

A/N: Okay, so I don’t do romantically shipping stuff even with “personas”, but platonic love and queerplatonic marriages are pog so this is qp bc I say so. Also, that prompt list that you’re asking this from is one I reblogged, like, a year ago, Anon ctfygvhbjknl- I’m still gonna do this tho bc HH my beloved

It was the last night of the season.

Two young adults lie together in bed, the room filled with the sounds of hooting owls and chirping crickets and soft breathing.

Shelby had spent so much time on this house, built it from the ground up with her two bare hands so that Will and Liam could move into their old place. And what did Graser do during that? He hung out with friends and changed all of the furnishings without telling her and destroyed the last things they had of their daughter’s-

The redhead sighs, her frustration and exasperation catching up to her as she stares up at the popcorn ceiling for the last sleepless night here.

The bed shifts slightly.

“Shelbs?” A rumbly voice asks.

Shelby looks over, meeting the sleepy and blearily blinking robotic eyes of her husband.

“Go back to sleep, Graser.” Shelby says. She rolls over, her back facing Graser. She can’t help a small flinch when the bed creaks under Graser’s weight as he sits up and a hand presses against the small of her back, the chill of the metal able to be felt through her thin pajama top.

“C’mon, Shelby, you can talk to me.” Graser says softly.

Shelby takes a long minute or two of silence and Graser doesn’t say anything, simply letting her figure out her words,

“I was just thinking... Y’know, about us.” She eventually says, her voice barely a whisper as she sits up slowly, drawing a portion of their duvet close and over her shoulders.

Graser doesn’t like the sound of that tone.

“It’s just... Tomorrow is the end of season two. I’m not sticking around for season three, I’ve got my own SMP to work on. After we leave, nothing we’ve done here will matter anymore. This house won’t matter, our memories of Grace won’t matter, our damn marriage won’t matter!” Shelby’s voice had started as tentative and low, as if afraid to admit her emotions, but as she continued to speak, she grew louder until she ended in a half-shout, her hands in her lap curling into slightly trembling fists.

Graser flinches back a bit at her raised voice, but he gently sets a hand on Shelby’s knee to try to calm her.

“That’s not true. Shelby, we’ve lived an entire life together in this season. As long as we can remember it, everything will be worth it. Its right and it will always matter.” He murmurs. Its so strange to hear overly-chipper and bombastic Graser’s voice so soft and soothing.

Shelby’s fists clench harder, her nails digging into the soft flesh of her palms. Her eyes snap up, a deep unidentifiable glinting in the golden amber and her upper lip curls into a small sneer.

“Loving you, was never the right thing for me.” She snaps coldly as she unceremoniously shoves Graser’s touch off of her.

The moment those words come tumbling from her mouth, Shelby is retreating, throwing her legs over the edge of the bed and dropping the duvet. Before Graser even has a second to respond, she’s slipping on a pair of slippers and ducking out the bedroom.

Graser shakes his head physically to draw himself out of his shocked stupor and he finds himself following after his wife, his heavy footsteps clanging metallically in a juxtaposition to Shelby’s soft padding even as she stalks angrily towards the staircase.

“Shelby, wait!” Graser tries, but no luck. Shelby simply ignore him and continues on her mission. She doesn’t even bother walking down the stairs, simply sitting on the spiral banister and sliding down with the ease of someone who’s done it hundreds of times.

Graser curses and clumsily hobbles his way down to the first floor, cursing his robotic form not for the first time.

“Please, you didn’t mean that!” He calls out as he stumbles down the last few steps.

The front door is hanging wide open, letting in the chilled night time autumn wind. Outside, Shelby stands on the front porch, her head buried in her hands as she takes deep but ragged breathes. At the sound of Graser’s voice, she stiffens.

“Yes, I did!” She exclaims as she turns on her heel to meet face to face with Graser. There’s a deep glare set on her face, her brow furrowed and a small glow of pure anger in her eyes. “You’ve caused me nothing but grief since we’ve gotten married! You killed me so many times! You never helped out around the house! YOU KILLED OUR DAUGHTER!”

There’s a pregnant pause as Graser’s facial expression fills with regret as Shelby pants from her outburst, the toll of letting out her bottled emotions affecting her physically. However, as Graser opens his mouth to defend himself, Shelby gives him no time.

“I don’t want your excuses of ‘you were doing your best’ or whatever you think will get you out of trouble. I don’t want it. This is the last day we will be married. I want a divorce before we leave the server tomorrow.” Shelby’s voice is disturbingly calm for how angry she had been just a few moments prior. A shiver runs down Graser’s spine.

He simply nods and Shelby seems to relax, if only slightly.

“I’m going to Will and Liam’s house for the night. Good night, Graser.” The redhead sighs.

Graser blinks and its like a switch had been flipped. Shelby looks so... Exhausted. And defeated.

“Good night, Shelby.”

[moonlitwordsandlilies]

in the details with the devil

the pastel yellow canaries chipper song surrounded Caleb.  slowly breaking down into an almost hellish symphony of unrelenting, taunting. Even the sun seemed to burn and scorn him on what normally would be an almost perfect day but today clearly wasn’t going to be normal nor perfect. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Her once again and his heart dropped into the cracked weed riddled sidewalk beneath him. An all-consuming sense of panic flooded him as his legs cut through the air in a desperate attempt to flee.

Whatever was following him lingered like a shadow. A pale, ungodly tall shadow. With hair the color of dried blood almost touching the dull ground at the same time it seemed to frame a pair of pitch-black eyes.   There was something disturbingly wrong about Her. Caleb was unsure if it was the air of refinement seeping through her every movement or the look of cold hunger in her eyes that could only belong to a predator stalking their prey.

Was this death slowly getting ready to make its move or was this something else entirely. That thought stayed in his mind like a thorn in his side.

Without realizing it his legs felt weak as his nerve endings started screaming fierily. He had to put an end to this game of cat and mouse, but how?  

Caleb’s answer came not in the form of a sanctuary but instead the glossy warm brown walls of Mc. Thistle’s book emporium. Caleb crashed into the rickety wooden door so hard for a second, he swore the small bell-shaped glass panel built into the wood almost shattered.  The door gave way dramatically leading to Caleb slipping and falling like an old cartoon character before landing on the hardwood floor with a sickening thud. Panic still clung to him as he forced his now aching body upwards. As soon as his feet hit the ground, he dashed to the very end of the store making the hundred or so identical mahogany bookshelves blur past.

Pushing the faces of the startled customers out of his mind, instead Caleb focused on his hallow footsteps and the hair standing up on the back of his neck like a threatened cat. Caleb darted into the slim yet comforting alley of bookcases. Finally, he collapsed into a scrunched shaking heap as his heart slowed down to an acceptable speed. Through deep breaths a calmness appeared like an odd warm embrace that had been missing since this morning.  

The sound of books being opened, and pages being flipped with a crisp rustle filled the store. A few sun beams made almost fairy-tale like markings on the floor.  This is it. This bookstore was Caleb’s Eden even just for a few minutes longer it remained a paradise. Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end and in this case the end came slowly. Starting with a shift in the environment. The room became tense like a horror movie leaping off the screen. A high-pitched humming filled the spaces in-between shuttered gasps.  The world crumbled around Caleb as everything clicked fatally late.

 No. no. no. not them god not them!. Caleb’s mind screamed at him.  he should have listened it wasn’t a joke every word about the boss being the devil was true and now Caleb was going to face Satan’s own flesh and blood.  

The humming stopped making a sharp chill run up his spine. Without thinking he backed up causing books to fall like fresh rain nocking many lose pages free.

“the bible really you’re trying to scare me off that badly, I will have you know most of it is lies! I never fell” said a cold voice with a bit of a bite near the end.

“you... you... Satan spawn!” bleated Caleb.

“I was wondering how long it would take you” they paused “I’m in fact yours truly Lucifer”

All the colour drained from his face as he stared into her eyes.  His throat became dryer then sand as he toyed with the idea of death, mostly his own. For a second Caleb got up the courage to ask why lucifer was there but he knew of his unpaid debt. So instead, he choked out a “what are you”

Lucifer looked down at the shaking man only a few feet away from her. She strode towards him allowing wisps of almost golden hellfire to nip at her heal before spreading to the lose pages.

“I’m an angel. but not like the ones you know for I am an original. You see I am hell born.” her voice was proud and stronger then ever.

A soft sound filled the awkward silence, it was animalistic like a bird getting ready to soar into the sky. Soon a black mass rose from lucifer’s back like an ice burg peaking out of the sea, it all blended together blocking everything in Caleb’s eyesight except for lucifer, like huge inky silk curtains. There was something alluring about it though as if he were in a daze but the longer, he gazed the more the blob took shape into four pairs of thick midnight-black wings; every feather was perfectly groomed. Unfazed by the spectacle she just put on, Lucifer let out the same bone chilling hum as before.

Caleb found this hum oddly comforting, and motherly with a frosty touch to it.  If this was the last thing he heard, it seemed fitting as if it were deaths lullaby luring him to the eternal slumber that awaited. A second sound joined, the humming turning it into an orchestra of sorts. The sound was the slithering of a dark emerald, green snake longer than both of his arms combined.  There where whispers of spoken words between pet and master and Caleb heard a single name Apple. Then the snakes focus snapped back him to with a killer look in their eyes before it spilled down her arms and shoulders like liquid metal.  before Caleb could blink a cold leathery feeling wrapped around him getting tighter gradually. A shrill hacking sound filled the room as a pale-yellow canary’s feather fell from the snake’s wide-open mouth.  

 “you know. Angels are like canaries, pretty little songbirds trapped in a grand cage although, two birds managed to break free of that cage. but don’t worry about that you’ll meet them very very soon. “Lucifer half mused half declared.

With that time slowed down as Caleb’s last moments came and went. Ending with a single snap followed by a painful squeeze and pop.

Everything went black and weightless ...

[alixsgardenofnope]

What The Music Does: To You, To Me pt.2

Back with part two of this.

[Warnings before heading in: Descriptions of a manic episode of sorts, mentions of a past injuries (not described), and generally just a rough time over all.]

With this in mind, please proceed at your own discretion.

. . . . . . Ever since MC-473 had come into view, Meouch had felt an uneasiness coursing through his veins, but he refused to let it shake his concentration as he eased off the controls and let the ship drift down onto the landing pad, its belly stopping just before making contact with the concrete.

Shutting down the drive functions and securing the drift locking system, Meouch took a moment to look at the rest of the crew. Sung, who had been talking his ear off since their departure that morning, had grown quiet as he moved about the cockpit, checking the displays and recording the readings in a little black book, why he refused to move his notes to a laptop was beyond him.

Swiveling around in his seat and undoing his harness, Meouch caught sight of Phobos standing in one of the observation bays, his back to the group as he stared out at the surface. Meouch stood, prepared to join him, when he saw Havve approaching the other man, drawing him from his thoughts.

He didn't miss the little jump as Phobos turned to look at him, or the brief glimpse of... something on his eyes when he pulled away.

Meouch shook his head, it was none of his business what was going on in that guy's head, besides, Havve was already there. He could handle it.

As they did their initial scan of the planet's surface, Sung had taken it upon himself to keep him company as the other two lagged behind, checking the outbuildings for any signs of life. Meouch didn't really see the point in checking, the ship's readings had come back clean, MC-473 was abandoned after all, the only signs of civilization being the things that were too big or cumbersome to take back when the mining company that had owned the planet pulled the plug on its operations decades ago.

Tail swishing behind him agitatedly, Meouch had let out a little annoyed huff when he turned to ask Havve a question, only to find both him and Phobos still together on the landing pad. Thankfully, Sung calls them over in a chipper tone, saying something about getting eaten by a lizard monster, and the group carries on.

Bringing them to now.

As Meouch looks out at the crystal sea, he's hit with a lingering sense of deja Vu, which pairs disturbingly with the song his companions had been singing up until he'd asked them to stop because it was scaring him.

Placing his hand on his belt, feeling for his gun holster, he lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding, feeling a bit safer knowing that if things go south, if there really are weird lizard monsters, he can at least fight back.

Turning to face the others again, he purses his lips at the sight of Havve and Phobos once again falling behind. This isn't normal behavior for either of them, especially not for Phobos, whose sense of duty as a soldier usually results in him standing at the front of the line with Sung, playing bodyguard.

As he stares at them, Havve shoots him a look, unreadable beneath the mask and Meouch hears a click in his left ear as a comlink opens up, filling his head with a beat of fizzling static before a familiar voice mutters lowly, "Don't let Sung get too far ahead."

Meouch frowns and scoffs, "Sung is a big boy he can take care of himself." 

Still, he reaches out and grabs the tether trailing off the back of Sung's suit, which is there for exactly that reason, and tugs it twice to keep the doctor from straying too far.

Havve hums approvingly and the link closes. 

Looking down at the lead in his hands, Meouch frowns,  thinking about the other reason for the tether as Sung turns to him, giving him a questioning look, his good eye narrowing as he quirks his brows. 

"Am I too close to the edge?" He asks, gesturing ahead of them at the ridge leading into the valley, it's maybe ten feet ahead of them right now, but to Sung, Meouch knows, the drop off is a lot farther away

Meouch nods, motioning for him to step back in line with him. Once Sung is situated, Meouch glances back yet again, relieved to see that Havve and Phobos have caught up, falling in line behind Sung.

Phobos is looking around and hopping slightly on his feet as they stand still. 

‘Leave it to dog boy to get the zoomies while on a mission.’

Meouch snorts and moves the group forward, keeping a wide berth around the ridge, Sung's hand on his shoulder.

As they reach the bottom, finding themselves amidst a forest of towering crystals and twisting trees with oddly shaped leaves, Meouch signals from the group to circle up.

"The path up ahead seems narrow." He says, "Too tight for us, let alone the rover to have gone through."

"I don't wanna risk getting stuck in there either, so if we're going to proceed, we're gonna have to go around.  Personally, I'm getting an itchy feeling just being here..." He admits, then adding, "What do you guys think?"

"I want to stay." Phobos says, his tone light and happy in a way that makes Meouch's fur stand on end, "I like it here."

Sung first hums in agreement, but then shakes his head roughly, "No." He says, "We have to go, something is wrong."

“I want to stay.” Phobos repeats stubbornly, shifting on his feet in the direction of the forest, but Havve is quick to reach out and grip his arm.

“Let go!” he yelps, trying and failing to violently pull himself from Havve’s grasp, Havve’s hand acts like a vice though, and his legs remain firmly planted on the ground, “I have to go! I have to go in there, you understand?! You can hear it right??” 

Sung shudders beside Meouch, bringing his hands up to his ears, eyes watering painfully, “...We have to go. NOW.”

Despite the protests of Phobos, who only grows more frantic as the distance between the crystal forest becomes greater, and the occasional faltering steps of Sung, the group makes it back onto the landing pad, tired and out of breath, but otherwise physically fine.

Emotionally however...

“Eughh... I can’t... I can’t freaking see anything.” Sung whines once they’re back on the ship, hovering outside of MC-473’s airspace, wiping his eyes with a tissue, “They just won’t stop.” 

Meouch pats Sung on the back, wincing slightly when they hear a shrieking sound from another room.

“Seriously, fuck that place.” Meouch mutters, clenching his free hand into a fist, “Those crystals must have been radiating some kind of weird energy, and that song...”

Sung finishes rubbing his eyes and blinks before replying, “It’s possible. Crystals of that size have to have been created using a lot of power, and Phobos did touch-”

“No, he was acting weird even before we landed.” Meouch interrupts, then pauses, gritting his teeth, “...You could feel it, right? That he was off?”

Sung tilts his head and then frowns, “...When he got closer, I felt...” he rolls his hand in front of him, trying to come up with the right words, “...Distress, misery, longing... MC-473 means something to Phobos. I can feel it here.” he slaps his chest.

“If it means something to him, why didn’t he mention it when the name came up in the mission report?” Meouch questions, flinching when he hears another cry, this time more subdued and a little less unhinged.

“MC-473 has only been known as that for a short time, before that, there’s no details on its history... Researchers think it may have been part of a larger pl...” Sung’s voice trails off, “...Meouch, do you remember what Phobos’ homeworld looked like?”

A chill runs up Meouch’s spine. 

His memories of Phobos’ planet are hazy, largely because he smacked his head pretty hard hauling ass out of the place, half fighting, half dragging a hysterical Phobos along with him.

“My memories are too vague...” he waves his hand in front of his face, “...but now that I think about it... Stars... Did we just bring Phobos back to... Shit.” he curses under his breath, standing slowly.

“What are you doing?” Sung asks, moving to follow him, “Havve has things under control.”

That doesn’t stop him from quickening his pace as Meouch heads through the door into the medical bay.

“I wanna go back... I wanna go back...”

Meouch bites his lip at the sound of Phobos’ whining, looking down at Sung, who is once again rubbing his eyes, “Are you good?”

Sung nods, “The sooner we get back, the sooner it’ll stop.”

Meouch hums and heads towards the sound of Phobos’ voice.

As they round a corner, Havve can be seen leaning over one of the beds, an arm firmly resting across Phobos’ chest, keeping him pinned down as the other writhes wrapped up in a blanket like a strange caterpillar. Havve looks up briefly, nodding in acknowledgement before returning his attention to their friend.

“Where... Where do you want to go back to, Phibs?” Meouch asks, “Home?”

Phobos’ eyes dart over to him and he lunges forward, stopped only by the force of Havve’s arm slamming his torso back down, “I want to go home! I want to go home!” he cries.

“We are going home, buddy.” Sung says softly, reaching out to touch him, only to have to rip his hand away as Phobos snaps at him with a growl, “Whoa... Okay, buddy, okay... Not gonna touch you.”

“Why are you taking me away?!” he wails, “Couldn’t you hear them?! They were right there!”

Meouch hisses, closing his eyes, “Fuck.”

As Phobos continues to struggle, there’s a click and Havve speaks up, “Phobos is seeing... things.” he says, looking to Meouch “...Memories...” he whispers, tapping the side of his head.

“You... When do you think he’ll snap out of it?” 

“Soon.” Havve assures him, “His heart rate is lowering and his breathing is normalizing, he’ll likely stop fighting and fall asleep soon.”

Meouch swallows a lump in his throat, “...Is he going to be okay though...?”

Havve makes an uncertain tsk with his teeth, “...I’ll keep an eye on him.”

“Mn... We’ll... We should... When we get back we should talk about...” Meouch bites the inside of his cheek, “You know?”

Havve and Sung nod, and Phobos gives another whine of protest, weaker than before.

The trip home is quiet.

[howterrifying]

+molliarty: the value of things

I'd been wanting to write this story for a long time. It's one of those rare stories where I had all the plot points written very clearly from start to finish. So it was just a matter of expanding the skeleton and in doing so, I end up discovering more things about their love for each other and what they really mean to each other. This is one of the best things about writing characters you love - when they develop in ways that you never expect to find. I had not realised how deep their love could go and it honestly just made my cold dead heart sing again. x 

::

All That Glitters  [also on FF.net and AO3] The silver briefcase on Jim Moriarty’s lap would rattle ever so slightly every time the car turned a sharp corner or went over a hump a little too quickly. Every so often, Jim would casually tap his fingers atop the briefcase, as though communicating back to the stolen gems inside that they were perfectly safe in spite of the somewhat bumpy ride. “Almost there,” he murmured to himself, glancing casually out of the car window. 

The meeting place had been decided by the clients and Jim never had any problems with that. Not when he had eyes and ears everywhere anyway. The safest time to meet was always about two or three o’clock in the wee hours of the morning for such exchanges. Jim stepped out of his car, dusted his lapels out of habit and entered the brick building before him. “Nice place,” Jim said, hearing his voice echo in the spacious garment factory. “It’s a good cover for the real business,” came the voice of one of them, “I’m sure you know what I mean.” “Hmm yes, I do,” Jim replied, walking up to the small gathering of people before him. His clients were a pair – a sister and brother pair. They stood shoulder to shoulder and were flanked by two bodyguards on each side of them. “You have them?” asked the brother. “Yu-p.” answered Jim, pointing comically to the silver briefcase in his hand. “All of them?” asked the sister, taking a step forward. “With your reputation, do you think I’d take any chances?” Jim remarked with a laugh. “We like to be careful,” the sister replied sharply. “And I…like to do business properly,” Jim remarked placing his free hand on his chest. “I’m an honest businessman.” The sister glanced back at her brother and nodded. He then turned behind where it was too dark to see and snapped his fingers once. In that one snap – that one click of his thumb and middle finger – a flurry of sound and movement happened. First, Jim found that the two bodyguards of his own had been snatched and gagged. The sister and her two guards surrounded Jim and he found himself staring down the barrels of each of their guns. There was that temptation to roll his eyes or break into giggles, as was Jim’s regular reaction when he found himself in such situations. He had not spent years in the criminal underworld to not be prepared for such betrayals. “Oh my…” Jim remarked, raising his eyebrow in feigned shock. “Leave the gems,” the sister began, “And you might leave with your life intact.” “But what about my money?” Jim exclaimed in fake exasperation, theatrically putting his free palm to the side of his face. “Letting you leave with your life should be payment enough, surely,” said the sister with a smirk. Jim dropped his palm from his face and paused to look down at his perfectly shined shoes. He tapped his right foot, then the left, then the right again two more times. All eyes and ammunition remained frozen and aimed at the impossibly calm figure of Jim Moriarty. Jim Moriarty was a criminal mastermind, but more importantly – He was an honest businessman. So when he finally looked up, there were no more raised eyebrows in mock horror or theatrical jaw drops. Jim’s eyes went absolutely vacant and cold as though they were made of glass – hollow glass. “You’re not the only one with magic fingers,” he whispered, a slow grin appearing on his face. Snap. With one click of his fingers, every single member of the sister-brother team had a myriad of dancing red dots on their chests. Jim had eyes and ears everywhere, and where necessary, those eyes and ears would turn to snipers. “Not a bad exchange, I suppose,” Jim continued, “You take my life, I take all of yours. Not. Too. Shabby.” This usually did the trick. Jim waited for the usual look of mortification to form on his enemies’ faces but to his slight annoyance, there was nothing. “Counteroffer,” the sister whispered, the smirk returning to her face. It seemed Jim was not the only one who had come prepared. Out of the darkness behind the brother and his team of guards came two more of their guards and a third figure who was not a part of their team. When the three stepped out of the shadows and light hit the face of the person in the middle, it was not Jim’s jaw that dropped. It was his heart. “Molly…” Her name slipped out before he could stop himself. The sister laughed at his moment of vulnerability and clicked her tongue in disbelief. “I thought they were just rumours,” she continued, “I’m almost honoured I got to verify them.” Jim placed the briefcase down and raised his arms in an act of surrender. “Let her go,” he whispered, his teeth clenched. “Call off your people,” ordered the sister. “You heard her.” At his words, all the red lights disappeared. “Jim!” came Molly’s voice, bright and alive,and what relief it gave him. He turned to look at her and saw that although she was still cuffed and closely surrounded by two coarse-looking guards, she was smiling and more importantly, was unharmed. It puzzled him that she looked so, what was the word now – chipper? Yes, she had an inexplicable brightness in her eyes and it puzzled him. “Jim!” Molly called out to him again. “It’s so good to see you!” He snapped back to focus on her face again and tried to piece together her reaction and the current situation. “But Jim, what the hell are you doing?” she asked, almost chuckling. “Wh-what?” he frowned, puzzled this time by her question. “Call them back!” she exclaimed. Before Jim could say anything back, Molly swung her head back and knocked the teeth out of the guard behind her right shoulder. She then angled herself slightly to the left and, while propped against the struggling guard gargling his own blood and broken teeth, she kicked the second guard swiftly in his gut and then his knees, causing him to buckle to the ground. Finally free from their grip, she ran towards Jim, only to find the sister and her two guards swing away from him and point their guns at her. The brother and all the other guards around rushed forward to surround Molly, aiming their guns at her. “In case you’re wondering, I learnt that from working for Mycroft,” she exclaimed with a smirk. Again, disturbingly chipper. If Jim was being honest, wondering how she had overcome the two guards was the furthest thing from his mind. He was relieved, of course, but he had other things to focus on. “Call them back,” asked Molly again. “But Molly, you’ll—” “Trust me, Jim, just call them back!” she said, trying to look over the circle of guns for Jim’s face. His expression amused her, but she would laugh about it later. Jim cleared his throat. For the first time in his career, he felt nervous. Terribly nervous. “You heard her,” he said, complying. The dancing red dots returned, all aimed on the backs and chests of the circle of people around Molly. “Tell them to follow my cue,” Molly continued, “Can you get them to do that, Jim?” Jim blinked rapidly a few times as he processed her request. Although it was Molly who was currently handcuffed, it appeared that he was the one with his hands tied. “You heard her,” he repeated to them. In any other circumstance, Jim would have had no trouble trusting the woman he loved, but when it was her life they were gambling on, it had been a reluctant choice. It was one of those moments again where, in a split second, a lifetime of events seemed to unfold. Jim saw Molly look carefully in the eyes of all those who surrounded her before suddenly shoutingthe word NOW! When she had done so, he saw her duck and roll out from the group that surrounded her. Before he knew it, she had appeared in a heap by his feet while their enemies had collapsed onto each other, each having been shot in one fell swoop by Jim’s expert snipers. “Molly!” he exclaimed, kneeling to get to her.   “Look at your face,” she chuckled. The pair of them were now kneeling on the garment factory floor, facing each other, their noses almost touching. “Well, aren’t you going to kiss me?” she asked in a mischievous whisper. There was still a lot of shock in his system. Jim had not remembered a time when he had had so much at stake. He blinked a few times, as though to wipe out the shock from his mind, and looked intently at her. Slowly, he brought his hands to her face and pulled her in for a kiss. The moment he felt that smile of hers against his mouth, he felt himself instantly recalibrate. She was alive, she was safe and she was here, in his arms. “You should come work for me,” he said, finally able to break into a smile. “Mycroft pays better,” she chuckled. “Oh, does he now?” Jim exclaimed in mock surprise before chuckling along with her. Just then, a team of Jim’s people rushed into the building and one of them immediately came to uncuff Molly. When her hands were finally freed, she flung her arms around Jim and exhaled in relief, burying her face in the crook of his neck. “Why hadn’t you tried to escape before?” Jim asked, whispering as he tightened his grip around her. It seemed the shock was now entering her system and it was his turn to help her recalibrate.   “I hadn’t dared try anything until I could see you,” she answered. “But you handled them so easily…” “I needed to be sure you were safe,” Molly continued, “When they came to get me, I wasn’t sure what they wanted with you.” Her words shook Jim. They shook him at a depth he had not realised was possible. As far as Jim was concerned, his own life was disposable. He was happy to die if was funny enough, or if it proved a point, or if it meant business could go on. To know that Molly could have died just to ensure he was safe set fire to everything he thought he knew or believed before. “You mustn’t do that again, Molly,” he whispered fiercely to her, “Certainly not for me.” “Don’t tell me what to do, Jim Moriarty,” she whispered back just as fiercely. They paused in their anger at each other and then broke into laughter again. If he could have held her any tighter, he would have. The pair of them eventually released their grip on each other and got up. Together with Molly, Jim walked over to pick up the silver briefcase. “So it seems I’ve landed myself a small fortune, free of charge,” Jim remarked in amusement. “What are you doing to do now?” asked Molly. Jim turned to her and was momentarily tempted to kiss her again but remembered she had asked a question and was expecting an answer. “I don’t know, really,” he said with a shrug. “I am in no need for any rare jewels at the moment…” “Then return them,” said Molly decisively. He paused to look at Molly again. When he saw the earnestness in her eyes, he remembered the goodness that he saw in her that he could never find in himself. Even though this very part of her was the reason they were the world’s worst match, it did not tarnish the fact that she was heaven sent in every aspect. “For you, Molly Hooper, I will,” he replied, finally stealing the kiss that had distracted him earlier.

+++

“How did you get invited to this?” Molly whispered, in awe of the grandiosity that surrounded them. “I have my ways. I lovegalas and fancy dos like this. Surely you know that, Molly,” Jim said with a smirk. It was no random gala or fancy do that they were at. Jim had, in his own way, gotten them invited to the celebration of the return of the very gems he had stolen. As they made their way through an ocean of tuxedos and couture gowns, they found themselves standing before the well-guarded, velvet-rope-surrounded glass case of said gems. “This is your first time seeing them, isn’t it?” Jim whispered to Molly. “Yes, and they really are…unspeakably gorgeous,” she whispered in awe. There was no doubt about that. Even for Jim Moriarity, who had seen his fair share of the world’s most secret treasures and wealth, he had to admit these gems reallywere something. “They catch the light in the most remarkable way,” Jim said, unable to contain his awe. “Perhaps I should have kept a few of them…” “Well, you know what they say, all that glitters is not gold. Don’t get distracted by shiny things, Jim,” said Molly with a laugh. Jim laughed too at her statement and turned to admire the slight flush in her cheeks and that glimmer in her eyes whenever she laughed. What a beautiful face, he thought to himself. “It’d have made a rather lovely necklace for you,” he said with a shrug. “I’d rather not adorn myself with stolen jewels, thank you very much,” Molly said with a soft chuckle. “I can’t deny that it would’ve looked very nice against your skin.” “Then you’ll just have to make do with my skin, sans necklace, if that’s all right with you.” He paused at her remark and when he turned to look at her, he found her eyes on him already, a small fire dancing in her pupils. “Sans necklace… is fine with me,” Jim said, almost tripping on his words. “Good,” she said, deliberately moving her gaze away from him and back to the jewels. A smile played on her lips and it distracted Jim no end. “Still thinking about the gems?” she asked, fixing her eyes on the glass case. Jim had long forgotten about the gems and was now most distracted by the delicate slope of her neck down to her collarbone. “What gems?” he answered, taking her hand in his. Together, they fled the building, laughing, as they raced to Jim’s waiting car. Once inside, there were no more shiny distractions as Jim focused on the infinitely more precious jewel he knew he would never deserve. All that glittered was ultimately not what he wanted. What he wanted – was simply, her. END

[cyberrat]

35th Batch Of Fics: 1st Fill

Dunban/Riki – Xenoblade Chronicles 1 – dubcon/noncon – Nopon have a special way to deal with just about... anything, and Riki thinks he should help Dunban through his malais.

---

“Oh hey there, Riki! I didn’t know you were visiting us again!”

Dunban stares at the ceiling as he listens to Fiora’s happy voice downstairs. He winces even before he hears Riki’s shrill voice booming: “But of course! Riki as heropon has to make frequent visits all across Bionis! Heropon has to have eyes everywhere! Can’t be caught off guard!”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Fiora chuckles. “Especially Colony 9, right? We’re very grateful for your service, big heropon.”

There’s a moment of silence, and then Fiora asks: “You’re here to see Dunban, aren’t you? Would you bring his meal up to him? I’ll go and see where Shulk is. I got a lunch with his name on it…”

“It’s least heropon can do for great herohom! Leave important task to Riki!”

Dunban quickly closes his eyes when he hears the rattling of cutlery ascend the stairs. He is rarely in the mood for Riki’s chipperness these days, and rather would pretend to be asleep to get out of having to talk to the ‘heropon’.

Riki, surprisingly tactful, stops speaking the second he notices that Dunban’s eyes are closed, his good arm laying over his naked belly. For ease of… everything, Dunban is only wearing shorts.

Getting undressed to clean himself only to get dressed again afterwards seems like just too big of a hurdle at the moment. Fiora leaves him be, thankfully. He doesn’t know for how long that will last, but he will treasure it for now.

There’s the soft click of the tray being put on the bedside table, and then nothing. Nopon are… stupidly well equipped to sneak around. Their tiny feet make barely a pap on the floor.

All the more startled is he when he feels his shorts suddenly being pulled down his legs. His eyes fly open and his hand flails to grip at the offender’s wrist. All he gets to grab is a nopon wing that he immediately lets go off again, startled.

He lifts his head and stares at Riki who has bounced up on the bed and is in the process of nudging his plump round body between Dunban’s legs.

“Riki?!”

“Heropon Riki, at your service!” Riki crows immediately. His stubby little arms are down between them, doing something Dunban can’t quite see. He flushes dully when he realizes his naked dick and balls are what are in the way of seeing what the heck Riki is up to. He flails, trying to push the Nopon away from between his legs so he can pull his shorts back up, but…

Riki’s wing is grabbing his arm and pinning it down next to him with an uncanny strength that has Dunban grow cold all over.

“Please not to make fuss while Riki is working!” Riki tells him seriously.

“What… What are you doing?” Dunban asks, voice cracking precariously. He somehow manages to sit up, his uselessly unresponsive arm a dead weight hanging from his shoulder while he has to realize that despite his small size, Riki is disturbingly strong.

“Heropon Riki has decided to take matters into own wings. Sometime, when feeling down, what one truly needs is… relaxation! Riki not fault Fiora for not thinking of it. She still young hom-hom, and related to herohom Dunban.”

As Dunban watches, he finally sees the pink tip of something emerging from below. His mouth goes slack. He leans farther in, staring down between there bodies. There, thrusting up from Riki’s feathery underbelly is a… Nopon cock. Dunban has never seen one. He’s never felt the need to see one.

But now here it was, long and tapered and disturbingly wet, coming out of the little sheath the Nopon had.

As Dunban stared, Riki shuffled closer, his round body pressing Dunban’s thighs effortlessly apart until the hero of the homs had his legs spread like a maiden, his balls pressing against the warm, feathery body of a Nopon.

“Wha- Riki! No!”

Dunban jerked, trying to rip his arm out of the tight grasp of Riki’s wing, but the Nopon was an unmovable force, his little arms calmly grasping his cock and guiding it to Dunban’s rear entrance.

“Please not to worry,” Riki chirped. “Riki is expert-pon. Most expert than any of Nopon you will ever meet!”

Dunban feels the slippery tip brushing against his tightly clenched hole, and would never be not ashamed of his immediate half-cry of Fiora!

His voice breaks pre-pubescently, abs straining as he tries to get out of Riki’s grip, but all that he manages is to actively push himself onto the slippery Nopon cock.

He had to be dreaming. This had to be a nightmare. His knees try to squeeze the life out of the Nopon, but as round and fluffy as Riki looked, he seemed to be made out of metal. There wasn’t even a flinch to his ever grinning little face as he started fucking like his life depended on it, pushing his slippery, long dick into Dunban’s helpless rear; spearing him until he felt like he should be able to see the red tip poke out from his belly button.

Dunban roars and throws his head back, but their house is too far to alert anybody of his… distress.

Sweat his beading on his forehead, and to his utter humiliation, his cock is starting to swell from the treatment.

Riki is ecstatic.

“Riki told you! Is best from best! Herohom Dunban is honored to be receiving ancient Nopon secret, yes? Yes, Riki can tell!”

“I have no… idea… what you’re babbling about!” Dunban gasps. Riki’s feathery belly is dragging against his cock and balls, and the sensation is sending lightning bolts of pleasure through his body.

The wild hair on top of Riki’s head is bouncing in time with his thrust like a palm in the wind. Dunban can’t stop staring at it as his knees stop fighting and just fall open, giving Riki free reign as he fucks him with ill-guided enthusiasm.

“Nopon living long life! Ever wonder why? Because Nopon found secret to good and healthy living! Be sad? Just mate! Be happy? Just mate! Be feeling under weather? Mate, mate, mate!”

Dunban doesn’t know if he should laugh or cry. He’s never heard of anything so ridiculous. The thought of Nopon all over the Bionis fucking like bunnits is driving him to the brink of madness.

His hair is plastered to the back of his neck, cock lying against his belly and distracting him with zings of pleasure. He does not want to come from this… this… violation, but he has to admit that Riki is… unnervingly good.

His thin, slippery cock seems to be made solely for the purpose of feeling good. Dunban doesn’t think it would have ached even if he had clenched down on it every second of the way.

He just hopes Riki will be done with it before Fiora comes back home… Oh maker… she couldn’t see them like this!

Dunban, suddenly invigorated by the thought, starts to actively work with Riki, whose face lights up in a huge grin.

“There! There! Heropon saving the day again!”

[ginnyzero]

Completely Harmless Ch. 1

Completely Harmless An SSO SilverGlade Re-imagining Story (Or Fix it Fan Salt fic) By Ginny O.

When Lily and her friends wanted to buy horses and were directed to the Silverglade Manor and its myriad of problems, they didn’t expect to start a revolution. They were just a bunch a stable girls. Completely harmless. Right?

A/N: Things are only canon if I say they’re canon. Pre-Saving the Moorland Stables compliant for the most part. Posted in its entirety on my website. Posted in 2000 to 4000 word bits here. Rated T for Swearing Word Count 177,577

Chapter One

Thomas Moorland had been nice enough and extremely sympathetic when he’d regretfully told them that he couldn’t sell them the horses they were riding. They were the camp’s horses and if he sold every horse that one of his campers got attached to, there’d be none left. They’d pouted, but the man had held firm even though he’d had a twinkle in his eye.

The large group of girls talked among themselves a bit sadly. They did love riding and the horses at the stable.

It was Justin. Thomas’ dark haired son with the soulful eyes that half of the girls in the group had a crush on that saved the day.

Figuratively that is.

“Psst,” he hissed as he peered into the stables.

The girls looked up at him in different stages of untacking their horses.

He grinned at them and bounced in. Leaning against the wall, he crossed his arms. “Heard you ambushed dear old dad.”

“You don’t have to sound so chipper about it,” Abigail mock pouted.

“Happens every year,” Justin grinned. “A couple keep trying to buy Saga out from under me.”

“You should be complimented. He’s a good horse,” Jennifer said. She patted her horse’s nose.

“He’s my horse!” Justin made a face and stuck out his tongue.

Lily cocked her hip. “Justin Moorland, you either have a trick up your sleeve or you came to torment us.”

Justin smoothed his face. “Torment you. I would never do that.” He put his hand to his heart. “My honor.”

“Loretta does all the tormenting around here,” Melody muttered.

Justin flicked his fingers and held up a folded glossy square of paper. “Ladies, if you truly desire horses, the best in Jorvik, you need to go see old lady battle axe herself, Baroness Annabella Silverglade.”

The girls stopped untacking their horses.

Lily raised a brow. “And what must we do to get there?”

“Stop trying to buy my horse!” Justin flung the folded square at her.

Lily caught it.

The girls giggled.

Justin rubbed the back of his neck. “I heard a rumor that she really could use some help. A friend of mine, Linda, she’s been working for the Baroness, helping run the Equestrian Center. But I’m afraid she’s bit off more than she can chew. Plus, she’s so busy already. Alex isn’t helping much since she comes down here to hang out with Maya so much.”

Maya shouted. “I can hear you!”

“Judy, Tyra, and Pauline are trying to keep things under control, but you know.” Justin shrugged. “Linn is stuck at the Riding Arena, Sonja is supposed to be helping out but she’d rather be in Valedale. Sabine is a bitch.”

“Justin!” Abigail gasped.

Justin smirked at them. “Well? If you want to get there and back before dark, you better be going now.” He waved at them cheekily and trotted off.

Grace huffed. “The nerve of him.”

“Utter cheek!” Melody agreed.

Lily opened the square of paper. It was a map. And Justin had helpfully drawn a red line from Moorland Stables to Silverglade Manor. There was also a few notes written in white ink. One read ‘Grape Mountain,’ and the other, “Loose Paddock.” Grape Mountain was south of the manor and Loose Paddock was north of it. Justin had included a note with an arrow at a broken line also in white. “The Baroness’ personal territory.”

Lily nodded. Justin was right. If they wanted to go out to the manor and get back before dark, they’d better leave now. At least the route seemed mostly clear. Though one bit looked disturbingly off the roads.

The horses seemed a bit astonished that the girls were putting the saddles and bridles back on them. But they were generally good spirited animals and were more than willing to leave the stables again, as long as it was at a placid trot.

The girls weren’t willing to push them either. They chattered at each other about what type of horses the Baroness might have. Some thought Arabians, others English Thoroughbreds, and others droned on about the merits of Hanoverians.

Justin’s route took them up the cliff to Nilmer’s Highland and a sharp right to the north towards Silverglade Village, a place they hadn’t yet explored. But the map said that off to their left, under the disturbing red line, there should be a path near the castle. Well, relatively near the castle. There was a lot of lawn between them and the huge yellow limestone castle on a cliff.

Regina saw it first. “Found it!” She said loudly enough so all could hear but not so loudly it’d spook the horses. They turned off the cobbled road and followed what was little more than a dirt track between some hills.

In the distance, up on a hill, had to be the manor. But it was really far into the distance. Between them and it was lots and lots of green.

“It looks rather impressive,” Lily said.

Their talk drifted to who they should approach. Annabella Silverglade herself? Or this Linda person? Or Judy? They didn’t want to be too much of a bother especially so late in the day.

The track led them to another road, they emerged on it between two birch trees, as the map showed it would. Off to their left and thus, to the south and across the road to the west were rows and rows and rows of grape vines. They grew along the flat parts of the mountain too.

“Oh, I get it,” one of the girls said.

“That can’t be the real name.” Abigail wrinkled her nose.

They turned up the road and noticed that the grapes continued despite the terrain. The road continued skirting a hillock and they came to a bridge. Far to the east they could see the village and realized it must be tucked right up next to the old castle walls. As they crossed the bridge, a dot off to the east (their right) looked like a rather quaint farm. They thought or speculated. There was a silo at least.

The road turned and for a little bit the road was lined with birch trees and grape vines. It was a long way up. They grew nearer to the manor and details emerged. A white stone wall with an iron wrought gate overgrown with weeds. To their left was a terrace also gone to weeds. Ahead of them though, the classical Greek inspired white stoned manor with its large windows and stately columns shaded by birches was impressive. The frieze on the tryptic above the door satyrs frolicking among the grapes and playing harps and pipes.

But overall, to either side of them were large, no huge, gardens gone to seed populated by yet more birch trees.

To the north the stable, or they assumed it was the stable, mimicked the manor house. It was large and long and off center was a columned archway over the roadway with another tryptic with a triangular frieze displaying horses rearing, cantering and trotting. Through this archway they could see a stone bridge. The stable had small individual doors that the top part opened individually on the lower floor and on the upper floor with the flat roof were more open windows showing where the hay was stored.

They assumed they could get into the stable proper through that doorway.

In front of it was a large parade ground with a rather odd symbol tiled into it.

And, to the south, the other large building was a large rectangular thing with a triangular roof instead of a flat one. It reminded them of what the Parthenon was supposed to look like with the long columns down the side of it.

Despite the run down appearance, the place was remarkably busy. Now, they didn’t want to bother the Baroness at all. That wouldn’t be proper. She was no doubt a busy woman. So, instead, they looked for Linda.

However, the first person they found was a girl with black hair that reminded them a lot of the stable manager of Moorland Stables, Jenna. She introduced herself as Judy.

They explained their mission. They wanted to buy horses and Thomas refused to sell them the camp horses and Justin had sent them this way.

Judy shook her head. “Happens every year. Well, you’re in luck. We have a fresh batch of three year olds looking for forever owners. They’re broken enough to ride and all, but they’ll need a great deal of training before you’ll be able to win any championships.

That was fine with the girls.

“Now, I’m going to warn you. These horses are special. They won’t be accepted by just anyone.” Judy said.

The six girls nodded.

“All right, they’re in the stables. May Aideen smile on you,” Judy grinned at them. She waved them towards the long structure.

There was a fence around the parade ground. But no one wanted to tie their horses to it. That wasn’t done. Plus there was nothing for the horses to eat near the parade ground. The girl’s dismounted and loosely tied the camp horses up in the area overrun by the weeds.

They all gasped as they went under the rotunda. It was actually stained glass and parts of it was faceted to throw off rainbows. The stained glass was of course, grape bunches and vines. They went into the shorter section of the stables first.

Inside the stables reflected the outside of the stables. There was cool white stone under their feet and the walls of the stable had been bleached white and had a silver sheen where the pattern of the wood was. Each stable wall topped with the delicate iron work like the gates.

But inside these pretty stalls were the prettiest horses the girls had ever seen. They had delicate heads and long flowing wavy manes and tails.

No one could restrain their squeals.

They didn’t run. They didn’t want to scare the beautiful creatures. But they certainly all walked quickly to the different stalls fishing out cubes of sugar and holding out hands to try and make friends.

A dark brown girl in a bright orchid t-shirt that read Knights of Unistria and black shorts laughed. “You must be new here. These are Jorvik Warmblood Sports, Jorvik’s best kept secret. I’m Linda.” She seemed friendly enough.

Lily was the leader. “Oh, we heard you worked here. I’m Lily and these are my friends Abigail, Grace, Regina, Melody, and Jennifer.” She gestured at each of the girls. “We’re, um, campers.”

“Obviously,” Regina rolled her eyes. They all wore the camp uniform after all, red t-shirt, grey fingerless gloves, brown riding pants, black riding boots and a black helmet. It was dreadfully unstylish.

Linda smiled at them and pushed her glasses up her nose. A bay horse with a white blaze down his nose and a white mane and tail huffed into her hair. She reached up to pet his neck absentmindedly. “And this is Meteor, the constantly starving.”

Meteor had the same nose shape and body structure as the horses in the stables. Though he was bigger and his hair wasn’t nearly as long.

“He’s handsome,” Grace said. “Is he yours?”

“More like, I’m his,” Linda wrinkled her nose.

“Oh, like cats,” Melody giggled.

“We’re here to become owned too, or something,” Jennifer waved her hand around.

Linda sighed. “Did Justin send you?”

“He gave us a map and everything.”

“Is it really Grape Mountain?”

“No. That’s him being cheeky.” Linda huffed. She tugged on her pony tail. “All the horses here are for sale, it’s true. In fact, if we don’t sell them. We’ll have to cull them. We simply don’t have the resources right now to look after them all. They’re in here for their final checkups.” Her face fell. “And it’s not really fair to release them into the wild. I mean, maybe they’d be all right.” She bit her lip. “So, they’re really cheap, three hundred shillings each. The Baroness is simply at her wits end and so am I.”

The girls looked at each other and looked around the barn. It seemed clean enough, but it probably could be cleaner.

“Thanks Linda,” Lily said before anyone else could. “That’s, a lot better of a deal than we expected.”

Linda twiddled her fingers. “Look, I have to run. If you have any questions, talk to Judy or Tyra. They know everything there is to know about the stables and Jorvik Warmblood Sports.”

“Not Sabine,” Grace said shrewdly.

Linda blinked. “Sabine’s a boarder. She doesn’t work here. She likes to make everyone think she does.”

“Good to know. We’ll be on our guard.” Lily saluted.

Linda smiled again. “All right. Good luck!” She said and trotted out.

“Huddle,” Jennifer said.

The girls gathered into a circle.

“Okay, something is definitely going on here.” Lily rubbed her chin.

Abigail groaned. “I’d do anything, and I do mean, anything, to get away from Loretta.”

“But, but, camp,” Grace hissed.

“Look, if this Baroness is as important as Justin implied she is,” Regina murmured. “I don’t think Old Man Thomas is going to mind us coming to help her out.”

“He might reward us,” Abigail bounced on her toes.

Jennifer sighed. “And riding around the cavaletti in a circle is so dull.”

Grace wrinkled her nose. “And the Bobcat race is, look, okay, Tan and Loretta are full of it and the other girls don’t want to lift a finger if it involves actually doing anything that might scuff their nails. They want us to be Bobcats to do their dirty work.”

Lily held up a finger. She jogged out of the stable and flagged down Judy who had a clipboard. “Judy, I have a question. It might seem odd.”

Judy widened her eyes. “Ohkay?”

“Does this stable have a dedicated riding club?”

Judy opened and shut her mouth. “No. If we did, we probably wouldn’t be in this state.”

Lily beamed at her. “Thanks, Judy.” She turned around and jogged off leaving a very bemused and confused Judy behind her.

Lily returned to the huddle. “Good news. No riding club!”

The girls jaw dropped.

“No club? Really? This gorgeous stable is ripe for the taking.” Regina’s voice turned fervent.

“This is not Pokemon Go!” Jennifer glared at her.

Lily tossed her hair. “Girls. I have an idea.”

Abigail pounded her fist into her hand. “Let’s show up Loretta.”

Grace’s lips parted. “Form our own riding club,” she breathed.

“And claim the SEC for our own and rule!” Regina pumped her fist into the air.

Lily smirked. “Exactly. So, let’s get some horses, recruit Tyra, Pauline, and Linn. The map says the Riding Hall is behind the manor, recruit more if we need to back in Moorland, and take Loretta and her Bobcat girls down.”

“Break,” Jennifer said.

They girls moved apart and scattered across the stables to look at the different horses. There were plain horses without markings, and those with; appaloosas, dapples, paint horses. There were those with the fancy coat genes too, cremellos, buckskins, and roans.

It wasn’t like they fell in love with the horses, because they did. But it was also like the horses fell in love with them.

With their shillings in hand they tracked down Judy and handed it all over.

Judy beamed at them. “Oh, thank you, thank you so much.”

“No. Thank you,” Lily said with a smile.

A/N: If you read this, I’ll be surprised. This story is a practice project for my portfolio and my own Horse MMORPG called Mystic Riders. I wanted to prove to myself and my dev partner that I could in essence design a section of game. I’m a fashion designer and a writer who loves games. I don’t expect (or want) SSO to implement ideas into the game (mostly.) This is for my own education and entertainment.

Writing story is the way I organize my thoughts and world build. So, this story may be a little salty, and a little shady in places. I care about Star Stable, horse games, and actual MMORPGS so much that the wasted potential grinds my gears. I chose the Silverglade Manor area because so much of that potential felt untapped to me and there were so many story lines that touched the Manor. If you want to see my take on anywhere else in the game, then, I’d have to work for the game. (There is only so much free labor I’m willing to do.)

FOR THE ACCOMPANYING IMAGES PLEASE DO NOT REMOVE MY WATERMARK AND CONTACT INFORMATION. THANK YOU. I get it. Some of you might get excited and want to see this stuff in the game, especially the clothes, tack, and pets. However, the only way I want to see this in the game is if I get paid for it. If I see it in the game and I’m not paid for it, there will be hell to pay. You think I’m salty. I’d be angry. Personally, I’m not going to send this info to SSO. If you do, leave my contact information there! Don’t give them any excuses to steal.

Now, I’ll know you haven’t read this note if you leave me comments about how ‘salty’ I am about the game and if I hate it so much I should do something else. I am doing something else. It’s called Mystic Riders MMORPG Project. Mystic Riders however is a very baby phase game. You can check out our plans on the game dev blog. (Skills, Factions, Professions, Crafting, Mini-Games, 25+ horse breeds!) If you know anyone who would be interested and has money or contacts about game making, direct them to the blog.