#because obviously wind would have some flying types

[johnslittlespoon]

Question because I loveeeee talking about how sex and sexy scenes can sometimes just not work because hello, this is real life!

“but gale gets good at rephrasing it in a way that they're both comfortable with, after some trial and error.”

Re. said trial and error: do u think they’ve ever been in a situation where Gale translates Bucky’s desire to be put in his place as him wanting Gale to be mean to him/ put him down. Because I’m just like. Imagine if this did happen in a situation where Bucky was being punished/ is over Gale’s knee. And at the start Bucky is obviously into it so Gale kind of thinks of that as maybe he should amp it up a little and he starts being a little cruel with his words. And maybeeee Bucky whimpers in response but it’s too similar to his other noises for Gale to realize he isn’t liking this and he’s getting in his head. AND then. Because Bucky is a decent way through his punishment, his desire to be good for Gale has really peaked so he doesn’t wanna say anything and he just tries to take the words and really be good but the harsh words in combination with the fact that Gale is a strong man and he’s been spanking for a while now and it’s starting to be a little uncomfy and just. Too much for Bucky. I can see him being able to take a bit of uncomfortable squirmy type pain IF Gale is sweetly talking him through it. But the harsh words and the pain is way too much for him. And eventually Gale notices and they just stop the scene and Gale just comforts and loves on him <3

referenced post | hellooo yes i can elaborate! i also love talking about how sex can not work out; i feel like it adds so much to a pairing’s dynamic when everything’s not cookie–cutter perfect, and like you said, in real life it’s not always sunshine and rainbows. 1.5k words of nsfw drabble below the cut (ik. so much for short replies sigh) <3

i can for sure see things getting lost in translation, or just miscommunications happening, or trying things they think they might like but then finding out they don’t like it, etc. but i think with ‘canonic’ characterization, in the context of gale actually being mean/putting john down, this probably isn’t something that would happen, because i think even if john genuinely did want that, it’s something gale wouldn’t be comfortable with. i feel like he’d maybe be fine with being mean in a teasing way, ie: light degrading, light humiliation, that sort of thing, but anything actually ‘unkind’ even if it’s all part of a scene, i’m not sure it would fly with him, or at least the way i view/write his character!

but for the sake of fun brainrot? absoluuutely lol. >:) and as an aside in this scenario, i could even see john himself thinking he’s wanting gale to be mean to him, not understanding that the actual desire is him wanting to be put in his place and roughed up, and not realizing his miscalculation until it’s (in his mind) too late. + the outcome of all this is likely some level of subdrop, but they’re two dudes in the 40s, they wouldn’t have that vocabulary lol, so it really does all circle back to trial and error and figuring out what the other really needs. :-)

i can see this starting out with john spending a day really acting up to ensure he gets under gale’s skin good, because as outwardly confident and content to run his mouth as he is, sometimes he doesn’t feel like asking for what he needs, maybe even feels a little bit embarrassed having to say it out loud. that, and there’s more of a thrill when gale just does it on his own, because it gives john the genuine feeling of having control taken from him. 

by the end of the day, gale’s at the end of his rope. he gets john alone finally and tangles a hand in his hair and gives it a harsh tug as he asks “what the hell’s gotten into you today?” and he can tell exactly what type of mood john’s in just by the way his jaw goes slack and how he looks a little winded at the show of force. so gale pushes him down to his knees, grabs his jaw with a firm hand, says “y’want me to be mean?” and john’s already a bit flushed, nods dazedly, and gale tightens his grip and goes “really, now?” and john nods again, whines a little, and well, alright. who’s he to deny him?

and maybe john even pushes a tiny bit more so gale has a reason to let himself be a little more cruel; maybe gale sits on the couch and tells john “over my knee.” and john just stays kneeling with droopy eyes and a lopsided smile, knowing damn well he’s playing with fire, and gale has to stand back up and drag him over by the back of his neck and drape him over his lap himself. john’s thrilled, obviously, already dizzy at being manhandled like that, but gale’s even more ticked off.

so john gets bent over gale’s lap and is made to count each hit as gale gives him a generally disapproving verbal lashing, y’know classic “i thought you like being good for me john, what happened? you think you were good today?” to make john squirm, to get him flustered a little having to focus on counting and answering questions. gale can feel that john’s hard and leaking against his thigh, and he’s making the prettiest, desperate little noises in between the words he manages to choke out, and right about now’s where he probably strays out of character.

they’re both so caught up in the scene, and john sounds so worked up that gale knows he’s giving him what he needs, so he lets his tongue get a little more sharp. maybe morphs into the territory of “can’t use your head right, huh? just can’t learn to listen for once?”, “don’t know why i keep trying to teach you to be good when you seem to enjoy disappointing me,” “shouldn’t even be touching you right now, you don’t deserve the attention.”

and all the while, john’s hips are wriggling, and he’s gasping out small noises, but he’s long since stopped counting and his head’s feeling fuzzy in a not–good way, and whereas gentle words between teasing would usually ease the sting on his ass, there’s no reassurance to cushion the ache of each hit this time. but he’s still all worked up and floaty and all his brain can comprehend is that gale’s unhappy with him, disappointed, fed up, and none of it in a fun way, so he wants to fix that, and the most obvious way to him with the state he’s in is to make gale proud by sitting through his punishment.

john tries to continue being responsive, to attempt to answer gale’s questions, to apologize at the right times, to just push on through because he’s sure gale’s close to done and then they’ll both get to make each other feel good. but he feels stupid and bad and he kinda just wants to curl in on himself, and a small part of him is telling him gale doesn’t actually believe what he’s saying, but the rest of him is taking the words to heart. his eyes are stinging and suddenly he’s blinking away tears and whimpering out a string of “sorrysorrysorryi’msorry” and then gravity’s shifting as gale abruptly pulls him up and into his lap, warm hands cupping his face.

soft, frantic murmurs of “hey, heyheyhey, what’s wrong, baby?” as wide eyes search john’s flushed face, thumbs gently stroking over tear streaked cheeks, but john’s in no state to speak or explain where his head’s gone. it’s alright though; it doesn’t take more than a few seconds for gale to clue in, and then he feels awful, but he’s immediately focused on calming john down. pulls him in close and tucks john’s face against his neck, murmurs “oh, sweet thing, i’m sorry, that was too much, wasn’t it?” as he rubs john’s back, kissing the top of his head. assures him over and over that he’s not actually mad, that he is so good for him, a good listener, could never disappoint him, etc.

just keeps quietly talking and petting his hair and squeezing him tight until he can feel the tension slowly leave john’s body as he relaxes into his lap. and john feels stupid as he calms down, feels like he’s made a big deal out of nothing, like it shouldn’t have affected him so much, and then he gets in his head about that, but gale can hear the hamster wheel in his head going and murmurs all fondly, “i can hear you thinking, john. you stop that right now.” and it gets a wet laugh out of john, a sniff.

gale asks if it’s alright to move to their bed, and john nods, so they get cozy there instead, and john feels ashamed for (in his mind) ruining their evening, and gale feels terrible for making john feel bad about himself for even a second, kicking himself for not realizing things were off sooner. so there ends up being a bit of a joint need for reassurance, gale making absolutely certain john understands he doesn’t actually think any of the things he’d said, and john making sure gale knows he has no reason to feel bad, and that he forgives him (though john doesn’t like that gale's apologizing at all). 

it turns into an evening of aftercare via cuddles and words of affirmation and gentle touches, maybe leads into sweet and soft kisses and lazy grinding and feeling each other up until they get off like that, limbs all tangled up, lovesick pet names and praise from both of them. i think this specific incident would shake gale up so much that– if there wasn’t one already that john had just been reluctant to use during the scene, in which case a serious conversation would need to be had between them– he’d ensure they establish a safe word, and on top of that probably stick to softer things for a bit, both of them emotionally tender.

and in terms of trial and error, they’d learn gale’s comfort limit with being harsher, because even if john had enjoyed all of it, gale thinks that he might’ve still felt a bit guilty afterwards, finding more enjoyment in putting john in his place with light scolding or teasing to accompany whatever the physical punishment is. and they’d learn john’s comfort limit with being verbally punished, because while he most definitely gets off on gale being mean/rough, he gets in his head about things really easily, especially if the words touch on sore spots (that he may or may not even be aware of). 

but they never shy away from trying new things together; it’s all part of the process and even if it’s sucky sometimes to deal with things not turning out the way they anticipate, it teaches them better communication and brings them closer and they always bounce back in the end. <3

[hollysoda]

Fuck you *assigns your Link with a Pokémon type*

Time: either Psychic or Grass

Twilight: Dark

Sky: Flying

Warriors: Fighting

Legend: Dragon

Hyrule: Fairy

Wild: Ghost

Wind: Water

Four: either Steel or Normal

[1whore1gang]

it's the little things🤍

part 1

part 2

Enjoy part 3 besties :)

I feel like something bad has happened in every chapter so far, i’m sorry lmao

the next chapter will be fluffier 🫡

WARNING: this chapter contains some tough topics such as SA, read at your own risk!!

Taglist: @ghostslittlegf @sketchyfandomgirl @batw3nch @thedevillovesflowers @gaymistakeboi @almightywdm @under-the-dirt @clear-your-mind-and-dream

(if i forgot anyone i apologize!!)

I feel like these are getting shorter and shorter 😬

The hum of the coffee machine was the only noise in the kitchen as you waited for the coffee to brew. You and Price were able to squeeze in a couple more hours of sleep before you became restless and got up to make coffee.

You had your arms wrapped around yourself due to the cold air in the compound. Taking a deep breath, you watched as the coffee began to pour out into the container. The smell of it already woke you up more as you breathed it in.

Pulling out the mug underneath, now filled with the liquid, you began to blow on it before setting it down hearing footsteps approaching.

"Morning. Did you make any tea?" Price's groggy voice rang through the silence.

"No, I didn't I'm sorry." You wrapped your sweater closer around your body.

"S'all good." He mumbled, moving around you to get a kettle going. "You still got that training session today?"

"Yeah, new recruits. It was supposed to be me and Ghost, but I told them Ghost got the flu." Price chuckled at that.

"Want me to come help you since you're down a man?" You tilted your head in confusion at his statement.

"Who would watch the boys?"

"Laswell. We can trust her can't we?" You lolled your head to the other shoulder, thinking.

"I suppose so. how do we even tell her? She's gonna report us for illicit drug use." You laughed a little at the thought.

"I'll tell her it's my nephews or something, or we can tell her the truth?" Price laughed along with you.

"Can I ask you a question?" Price hummed as confirmation. "Why haven't we fought yet? Usually when we work together, we're at each other's throats."

Price nodded, obviously contemplating his answer. "I don't know." He said it so simply, as if he hadn't noticed the change in behavior from you both. "Maybe because there's children involved?"

"How many rescues have we done with children where we're still fighting?" Price nods in agreement.

"I'm not sure then." He looks up at the clock, noticing the time. "Let me go ring Laswell while you get ready."

Somehow, Laswell bought the nephew lie. She agreed to watch them for a small amount of time.

"Alright recruits. I'm your Lieutenant, and you can call me that. This is Captain Price, you report to him for any major or emergent situations, otherwise you find me or Sergeant Garrick, who you will meet at a later date. Today, we are going to go over some basic defense maneuvers."

Carefully, you taught the recruits, demonstrating each device with Price. From what you could see, the recruits were catching on quickly. "Finally, my favorite defense mechanism." you signaled Price to come at you, putting you in a headlock. Bending down and quickly pulling your body weight forward, you fling Price over your head.

You hear a couple of recruits gasp. "For the nature of this exercise, we will have each one of you come up to try to flip one of us instead of having you flip each other."

One by one, each recruit came up attempting to flip you and Price. A couple failed, which is normal in these types of training situations. You only had a couple of recruits left. "Private Taron?" you called the young man up. "Try to flip me." You heard Price call up another recruit as you wrapped your arm around the Private's neck. He easily had you flying over him, landing roughly on your back.

You felt the wind being knocked out of you. "Here, let me help you." Taron reached out a hand, helping you up off the floor. When you stood up, he didn't let go of your hand. "Can I ask you something since I'm the last one in your line?"

"Yeah, what's the problem?"

"No problem, I just wanted to see if you could flip me?" You froze at the question but took the challenge since Taron was about the size of Price.

"Why not, I could use the challenge." You prepped yourself, waiting for him to wrap his arm around you. "Ready when you are-"

Your words caught in your throat as you felt him grind himself into you, his erection pressing into your lower back. "See what you do to me ma'am? You won't write me up for sleeping with my superior will you?-"

Quickly, you flung him over your head, him landing with an audible thud. "You have a meeting with General Shephard at 0800. Don't be late."

You left the room quickly, not even bothering to look at Price. You beelined to your room to change and shower as quick as you ever had before going to relieve Kate from the boys.

"Thanks again Laswell."

"Anytime, his nephews are angels." She left without another word as you looked down at the three littles in their playpen.

Soap and Gaz were playing with some little planes you and Price had bought while Ghost was asleep. Soap looked up at you and his little face lit up, making grabby hands at you. You smiled as you picked him up. He immediately snuggled into your neck, letting out the cutest little sigh. Gaz followed suit, giving you grabby hands as you picked him up too. "Come on boys."

Moving over to the pullout couch, you propped the two boys to where each one was laying on a shoulder as you sat back. Both of them seemed calm, almost sleepy at contact. You stroked their little heads, shushing them into a nap since Laswell said she couldn't get them to settle.

You tried to focus on the current moment and not the disturbing event that had happened not even 10 minutes prior.

Your skin itched, feeling exposed, dirty. You felt violated. You felt tears sting your eyes, trying your hardest to focus on the little sounds coming from Soap and Gaz. Deep breaths left your mouth, trying to calm yourself.

Little snores filled your ears as your face became red with tear stains. You moved to set the boys back down, feeling bad for not holding them for very long. You sat with your head in your hands, trying to subside the tears you felt. It was such an icky feeling, your body crawling with an uncomfortable feeling.

You didn't want Price to see you like this, you knew he'd ask about what happened and you two would get into a heated debate about how you could've handled it better than storming out.

You could hear his voice now, telling you how you should've reported him right away, spoke up. His voice telling you that your response was immature.

Sighing, you took out your phone to send an emailed report to Shephard so he knew what was happening when the recruit walked in.

Footsteps filled your ears as you hit send, the door opening slowly as a freshly showered Price entered the room. "What the hell was that?"

"I'm not doing this right now. Yell at me all you want another time."

"No, explain to me why you walked out on those recruits." His voice was beginning to border the line of anger.

"Price, please."

"No, Y/N, what was that?! It doesn't matter who you are, you don't walk out on recruits during a vital training sessions." his stood against the closed door, his arms crossed. His head tilted as he spoke.

"Can we please not do this?" You finally made eye contact with him for the first time since he had stepped in. This made him see your tear ridden eyes.

"Tell me. Now." His voice was almost a growl as it came out.

"Please-"

"WHO?!" He boomed as his hands slammed down on the table in the kitchenette of his room. It made you flinch, which made his gaze soften. "Y/N."

"Price." He moved over a few steps closer to you.

"Tell me. Please." You saw his eyes change from being the angry narrowed look to a more gentle, beckoning one. "I am still your superior, so you report any issues to me, regardless of what it is."

"Don't fucking pull that card." You shook your head in annoyance.

"I can pull whatever card I goddamn want, I am your Captain and you will tell me what happened." You was back to the pointed look he always gave you.

You huffed out a breath. "You don't give up do you? Don't know when to stop talking?"

"Y/N..."

"One of the recruits rubbed their hardened cock on me and told me that they wanted to sleep with me. Happy?"

"Y/N, if you had just-"

"Don't start. I know you're gonna tell me my response was immature and that I'm overreacting or I misheard him. You're going to tell me the statistics of women getting harassed in the military and how one little grope isn't gonna hurt me right?" You watched Price's face turn to one of horror.

"Why the hell would I say that? Do you really think so lowly of me?" Price was hurt now.

"Because that's what you did last time something like this happened. November 4th, 2020. We were on a mission in Dubai and one of the new soldiers on the mission groped me and fondled me. You told me I was overreacting and told me to brush it off."

Price was froze, his mind turning for answers to why he did that. He wasn't speaking nor moving. Instead, he just walked out.

He walked out on your important conversation like that. Left you alone in your state of pain and the familiar feeling of betrayal came back to your chest.

That feeling was a package deal when it came to your Captain. You always felt betrayed and hurt by him due to your common interactions. He was tough on you, and you two never were on the same page.

Except lately, you thought you were. You were so wrong.

You took your things and the boys back to your room that night, wanting to be away from your Captain. You knew the kindness was too good to be true, deep down though you wanted it to linger just a little bit longer.

His offers to cook or watch the boys, the way he would look at you and tell you to rest. You wanted the kindness in his eyes and his smile to stick around longer.

You wanted John, not Price.

And you'd never have that. Not with your Captain's history with you. The constant fighting, the butting of heads, the disagreeing will never go away, and as you realized that, you cried.

You had seen a glimpse of the man behind the title, and you welcomed the warmness he had brought to your eyes. The way his personality shown through instead of his usual coldness. You had felt a tinge of a friendship blooming, but that has quickly been ripped from your grasp.

While you were crying, you looked over to see Ghost standing up in the playpen, staring at you with a blank expression and wide eyes. He whined when you looked at him. "Oh, Simon..."

Moving, you picked him up and rocked him in your arms as he began to sniffle. "I'm okay, just the usual squabble with our Captain." You shushed him, trying to convince this small child that you were okay.

His little hand reached up to touch your mouth, letting out a little sound. he blinked at you a few times, still sniffling as his bottom lip quivered and he eyebrows were down.

You smiled a little at the seemingly meaningless gesture. "How do you know how to make me smile even as a baby?" You laughed a little as he sad expression faded, his little hand dropping back down. he let out a couple of little baby babbles, and you smiled again. "My Simon always comforting me, even if it's incoherent baby noises." He yawned, leading you to move him back into the playpen, giving him a thank you, even though you knew he couldn't understand you. He yawned again as he rolled over, closing his little eyes.

You sat back down in your bed as your mind raced a million miles a minute.

How could your Captain be so double sided, and what triggered him to change from cold to warm, but so quickly snap right back?

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Ok y’all it’s time for a grishaverse world-building rant (mainly linked to soc/ck) and there’s a good chance this is gonna turn into a long and rambling post but bare with me.

*CONSISTENT GRISHAVERSE SPOILERS AHEAD*

In the Netflix show, why did they replace Alby’s lion toy with a toy train? I wanna talk about the absence of the lion, but also of all things why did they choose a train?

The train really stuck out to me when watching season 2 and at first I wasn’t my sure why, and just struck it up to the fact that I was expecting a plush lion. I think it’s absolutely notable that they exchanged the lion for a different toy, because the TV show didn’t give us as much opportunity for the foreshadowing surrounding Alby Rollins’ existence as we had in the book, since Van Eck is the key to a lot of the passages that foreshadow Rollins having a child. The fact that Kaz was able to present the lion was what served as “proof” for his attack on Alby, and is one of the best scenes showcasing Kaz’s incredible intellect. Since Kaz had never seen Alby, in fact had no concrete evidence of his existence whatsoever, he based the entire presence of the toy lion on Pekka’s pride in his gang, the Dime Lions. But since the show doesn’t have the opportunity to explain the gang culture of Ketterdam in as much detail as the books, which is obviously understandable and it’s the kind of thing I would expect to be lost in the transition from source to adaptation, they can’t make the assumption that the audience will associate the lion with the Dime Lions, particularly since they haven’t explored the gang tattoos (as a side note the meanings behind the tattoos are just *chefs kiss* but anyway-) So unless they were making specific effort to try and include more references to the lions earlier on, it makes sense to change the toy. It also leaves open the option for later in the show (fingers crossed, I’m praying for good news right now) to bring the lion in for different schemes and to create more anticipation and build up for the absolutely iconic Inej move of replacing the lion with a crow in the last chapter of Crooked Kingdom. So I understand the choice to change the type of toy that Kaz takes from Alby, especially since we already know that it’s Alby being used as the threat in this scene and in the books we didn’t, but of all the options why would they choose a toy train? My best guess is that it’s a nod to the Conductor and the train across the fold in season one, but it kind of annoys me because, other than the train that was added for the show and the tank in ck that is explained as amongst the first of its kind, THERE ARE NO MECHANICAL VEHICLES IN THIS UNIVERSE YET. None!!

We have to remember that the development of a constructed world is based on its needs and it’s understanding of it’s resources, not on mimicking the development of our own world; so although some people are probably thinking ‘well they recently developed flying vehicles, it makes sense for trains to exist before that’ I would genuinely argue that in this world it makes no sense whatsoever. We know from explanations in soc and ck (in Retvenko’s chapter mostly, but also in Joost’s and a few other references) that there has been no need to develop engines for boats because the winds can be calmed or summoned by Squallers; they fill the sails or fend off storms to keep the ships moving, there is no need for development thus far because grisha possess the natural resources to maintain the power they need. But in Ravka the presence of the shadow fold meant it became necessary to develop other options, so progress came about and Nikolai developed the Hummingbird. But it’s very important to note that (to my understanding at least, if you happen to know I’m wrong please feel free to correct me) the Hummingbird is still entirely dependent on Squaller power to maintain its flight, because development is always based on the previous model. Similarly, the tanks being the first motorised vehicles we’re introduced to makes perfect sense in the world we’ve come to know and understand, especially since we’re learning from the perspective of mostly Kerch-born or Kerch-living characters. Jesper tells us that there are very few carriages on the streets of Ketterdam, that horses are a luxury because the space to keep them is a luxury, not because they open up further modes of transportation - this is also emphasised by the knowledge that one of the greatest signs of prosperity in Ketterdam is a house with its own dock. This is because canals are the main way of moving, and since the boats and their squallers are a time-proven method of travel there’s no current need to develop engine mechanisms for boats, and cars aren’t needed because no-one would use them to travel. I’d also like to add that I realise not everyone has access to Squaller power, but the rich of Ketterdam do and they live in an incredibly classist society. In the Barrel, most of the boats are moved by rowing and/or punting, as is made clear at the end of soc when the crew row to meet Van Eck and he is brought by Squallers, and the theme is continued throughout ck.

The most likely place for cars to crop up first, based on what we’ve seen of the different countries, is probably Ravka; the country is a hub of innovation and the fabrikators there are the most free to practice their craft. However, Ravka is also a country that has been at war since it was founded, there is no room for any type of development that does not further their chances of survival against Fjerda, Shu Han, or their own civil war. Other places we might have expected to see motorisation pop up faster could be the farming provinces of Kerch and Novyi Zem, since they could be utilised for tractors and ploughs. But most innovation in Kerch is centralised around Ketterdam, where the engines are currently unecessary, and although I don’t know enough about Novyi Zem to argue either way the auction in Crooked Kingdom may imply that their government’s budget is lower those of Kerch, Fjerda, and Shu Han. (But again, we don’t have bundles of information about the Zemeni government so I’m not super confident there). We do, however, know that Jesper was the only one other than Matthias who already knew what a tank was when they got to Fjerda, and so it’s fair to predict that there’s been at least some development in that area in Novyi Zem, or at least enough interest for news of them to reach the gunsmith Jesper worked with. But let’s assume that the invention did come from Fjerda itself, at least for the time being. This makes perfect sense!! It was mostly likely developed, unbeknownst to Matthias, by the parem-drugged fabrikators being held at the Ice Court. Now that they have access to this power, Fjerda achieves all of the same tickboxes to be the initial place of engine development as Ravka does. Of course, Fjerda is also at war or under threat of it, but I think it’s important to remember that the Fjerdan government doesn’t really see war with Ravka as a threat at all. They see it more as an opportunity to prove themselves, to properly cement their position in the world economy and as a global power, which we know Kerch - or at least the general population of the country, if not the government - does not currently see it as. So it makes sense that their developmental focus would not be on ease of travel for the majority of its people by developing cars or flight machines, but on engines that can be used for dominance: tanks.

I’m hoping I’ve kind of got my point across here even if in a slightly convoluted way, but I want to add Inej’s quote from the scene with the tank to really cement the idea that this was development on a scale they had never experienced before: “They were moving - and not a horse in sight!” Someone who has seen a train at any point in her life, or who has any understanding that trains exist and work, is not going to be absolutely blown away by the concept of moving without the aid of horses. So why pick a train??? I don’t know, I’m clearly thinking far too much into it but I just… I dunno, it bothered me, there were so many other things to choose. I didn’t really mind the train in season one because it was set up like a one-of-a-kind contraption, but the idea of there being toy replicas of steam trains implies a very different level of development in a world clearly implied to be pre- its industrial revolutions.

Anyway, thanks for reading my mad ramblings! I have SO MANY thoughts about world building and structure in the Grishaverse, and world building as a browser topic as well, so if you want to hear anything more please let me know!

[jongseongsnudes]

five.

warning; 🤔😶😳 0.9k.

masterlist.

“they said the incoming storm is going to be really strong so no planes are flying out right now. we just have to wait,” you say to taehyun on the phone as you pace back and forth in the airport VIP lounge, “but why doesn’t mr park ever travel by his private jet? i hear all the executives in the company only travel by private jet.”

“because jay thinks it’s a waste. he only uses it in emergency situations,” your co-worker chuckles on the other end as he types something away in the background, “i know what you’re thinking. he’s great. try not to fall in love with him.”

“fall- fall in love? are you crazy? he’s our boss!”

“what about me?”

your phone almost drops out of your hold at mr park’s sudden voice behind you, where you sure he wasn’t standing the last time you checked. the smile that was just on your face immediately falters at the thought of your boss hearing your conversation because the last thing you needed now was to get fired for apparently falling in love with the boss.

without warning, you hang up the call and immediately lower your head, coughing rather awkwardly, “is there something i can get you sir? some food perhaps?”

“call the driver. we won’t be able to fly today.”

you hurry to do just that, dialling for the driver and a nearby hotel for your boss to stay in the mean time.

after sorting everything out, you and your boss make your way out of the airport, towards the waiting driver out front. it had started to rain lightly but the winds were strong enough to have your body sway back and forth involuntarily.

“no way- jay fucking park? is that you?”

both you and your boss turn towards the call of his full name to see an unfamiliar man getting off his motorbike not so far away, with the biggest grin on his face. you have no idea who he was but he was definitely a looker.

“it is you! jay park, you handsome fucker!” the man comes over and throws his arms around mr park, tightly hugging him and to your surprise, your boss returns the hug. there’s a smile on mr park’s face, a genuine smile to say the least, a sight you don’t often get to see while working with him. and thank lord for that because the rare sight was enough to have you holding your breath over.

“long time no see nicholas,” your boss says to his friend, the two still holding each other’s arms, “how have you been?”

you watch the two converse for a bit, while awkwardly standing on the side, politely smiling whenever this nicholas person would glance over at you, a smirk on his face. the man was even taller than your boss, his physique obviously sturdy underneath his leather jacket.

“dude do you want to take my bike for a ride? must've been a while since your last time?” nicholas dangles his keys in front of mr park’s face, further heightening your curiosity over their friendship. this was obviously someone who knew your boss very well. “take it. just text me where you leave it so i can have someone go get it.”

wow, rich people things.

to your surprise, mr park really does take the keys, not before giving nicholas yet another hug. there’s something in your boss's look that’s so different from how he usually was. he seemed happy.

with a few quick words, nicholas then disappears into the airport, leaving you alone with mr park again. you remain quiet while watching the man gawk over the shiny motorbike, his fingers just lightly grazing along the black surface.

assuming that the man would be busy for at least the rest of the day with the bike, you begin to come up things you could do during the time. sleep? shop? eat? all three?

“lets go for a ride.”

“ex- excuse me, what?”

“are you scared?” mr park asks you, the ends of his lips curving into a smirk at the frightened look on your face, almost as if teasing you. reaching out his hand, your boss gestures for you to grab it but when you don’t seem to react at all, he places the helmet onto your head instead. he takes some time to fix your hair, straightening out the strands that tangled with the helmet.

all this was proving too much for you, evident with the way you were now standing there, blankly staring up at the man like a crazy person. you were just not expecting these words from him, considering he was such a private person. and this seemed private.

“it’s not scary,” the man gets himself onto the bike before turning back to look at you, “don’t you trust your boss, miss park?”

“i do sir!” you were on the back of the bike before you even finished your sentence, wanting to prove that you indeed did trust him. besides, what’s the worst that can happen? right?

sitting in such a position had your work skirt riding up a little higher up your thigh, exposing more skin than you had wanted... and this definitely caught mr park’s attention. you’re almost 100% sure of this, judging by the way his gaze had fallen to the sight almost immediately as you shifted about.

“well, hold on then.”

end.

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[fascinatedscrawls]

Phic Phight Prompt: The Box Ghost, aka the most un-frightening pathetic nuisance ever, is actually incredibly powerful compared to the average ghost.

Word Count: 1425

For @phantomphangphucker

Summary: There are a lot of different kinds of power. Some are easy to see and others - others take a little more perspective to understand. Of course, realizing that the Box Ghost was both feared and respected within the Ghost Zone is still a bit baffling even after Danny gets to see it first hand.

"Wait, wait, wait." Danny held up a hand to stop Ember before reconsidering and putting it to his own forehead in an attempt to drive off the headache he could feel building there. "Can you repeat that?"

"What am I, a wind up doll?" Her look of disgust made way for an eye roll when Danny dragged his hand further down his face to glare at her over his fingertips. "The Box Ghost will have what we need."

Hand now over his mouth, Danny wondered if he needed to get his ears checked. When she clicked her tongue at him and went to keep moving, Danny quickly followed her gesturing wildly.

"The Box Ghost? Really? As in, the guy who comes to Amity just to grab cardboard boxes and crates? The one who won't stop introducing himself and screaming 'Beware!' - that guy?" Actually, a thought occurred to him and he narrowed his eyes trying to fly ahead of Ember to try and read the truth of it off her face. "Hang on, does he introduce himself because he's trying to use some other ghost's reputation? Is there another Box Ghost out there?"

Ember sped up shaking her head as she sped through the Zone.

"Of course not, anyone would be able to tell that the imposter was lying. Or, well," she winced a little, "no one would believe that guy when he lied. I mean, he's not the best actor. Not everyone's meant for the stage, obviously."

"Obviously." Danny repeated, voice and expression flat before he remembered that he was here to ask Ember for help. Pasting on a friendly smile when she sent him a warning look, he tried for a little more clarification hoping that she wouldn't change her mind. "But how did he become the ghost to see?"

"I'm the ghost everyone wants to see." She reminded him instantly, striking a pose like she was getting photographed before waving off his fumbled response to that. "I know what you meant. For this type of thing it's more that it just falls into his domain."

"Like, a kingdom?" The Box Ghost had a whole realm like Dorothea and Frostbite? Danny almost breathed a sigh of relief when Ember shook her head.

"No, more like a website."

Danny wasn't aware that he could stumble while flying, but he managed it anyway. "Excuse me?"

"No."

Ugh. Ember was sometimes all the parts of Jazz Danny couldn't stand - a big sister without any of the care that made Jazz one of Danny's favorite people. At his groan Ember came to an abrupt stop and reached for her guitar. Danny almost brought ecto to his hands before he realized she was holding it out instead of readying an attack.

"Look, everyone has what they're good at, right? Like I'm amazing at singing and playing my guitar so when I play I can do things through my performance."

"Right." Danny drew out the vowel a bit, following but not really sure where this was going.

"It also means that things pertaining to my domain of Rock Star Sensation are more likely to find their way to me even inside the Infinite Realms." Flicking her fingers, she rolled a guitar pick down her knuckles in a practiced move. "That's why my guitar is always in tune and I usually have all the things I need to play it. Strings, picks, if they fall into the realms there's a good chance I'll find them."

So ghosts frequently found things that related to their obsession. Danny wasn't sure how true that was - that things find their way to the ghosts that wanted them rather than most ghosts only paying attention to things they were personally obsessed with, but the Ghost Zone didn't exactly run on any logic he truly understood so he was going to roll with it for now.

"And the box ghost-"

"Finds boxes." Ember finished his sentence, swinging her guitar back over her shoulder and starting forward once more, more noticeably following the path of a few other ghosts Danny could see in the distance. "And other packages, though he doesn't like those quite so much."

"He finds boxes and keeps them no matter what's inside, got it." Which explained why she was leading him to the Box Ghost for those supplies Frostbite was looking for. "How often does he find more boxes?"

Just how likely was it that Danny would find the laundry list of things Frostbite was looking for?

"Oh," Ember didn't even knock before pushing a double wide set of swinging doors open so they could step inside what Danny now saw was their destination. "Almost constantly, I think."

Goggling at the ghostly equivalent of a big box warehouse complete with rows and rows of aisles that practically scrapped the almost cavernous ceiling, Danny didn't even care that Ember was absolutely snickering at his reaction. "Where do they even come from?"

"They're every package that gets lost in the mail, I think." Ember answered, grabbing his arm and pulling him further into the store. "And there are a lot of lost packages these days."

They passed huge piles of boxes, each stacked higher than the Fenton Works Ops Center, many of which baring familiar logos from various online retailers. Danny snorted before his eye caught on a ghost reaching through the cardboard to triumphantly pull something (hedge trimmers?) from a box only to very quickly place whatever was in his other hand into the box in its place. Looking around at other ghosts who were sifting through the madness or bargaining between themselves Danny noticed something.

"Does everyone bring their own stuff?"

"Money doesn't really mean much here, so like everywhere else in the Realms this place runs on trades." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a few CDs some of which Danny vaguely recognized as being popular a few years ago, all of which wouldn't have fit in her pocket if she weren't a ghost. "The Box Ghost doesn't care about what's in the boxes so long as something is inside the box."

Danny's next question was forgotten as the Box Ghost himself burst intangibly through the boxes on the next aisle over, hands raised with a loud, "I am the Box Ghost!"

After months of being warned by the same ghost with nothing resulting from it other than maybe a few hours of annoyance as he chased the Box Ghost around town before capturing him, Danny watched incredulous as the smaller ghost the owner of this 'store' was threatening cowered, literally tripping over themselves as they searched their pockets for something to put into the box they'd left empty a few minutes before.

Around them the other ghosts scattered as the Box Ghost yanked the offender up by their collar, eyes burning bright and an surprisingly impressive wave of energy rolling off him that even Danny could fee,l before a figurine (in mint condition) was held up in shaky hands as an offering.

There was a pause as the Box Ghost blinked away his rage to inspect it. Then he snatched it from their hands and put it ever so gently back into the temporarily empty box. Giving it a satisfied pat, he then threw out a practiced "Beware!" before vanishing back to wherever he came from.

Danny watched the ghost he dropped snatch up their prize and shoot out the double doors before giving a knowing Ember a wide eyed look.

"Never mess with a ghost over their obsession on their own turf, especially not a guy who gets all his power from the ecto people give off his his warehouse." She warned him.

"But - he's so-" Danny struggled to put it in words. "He never does anything like that in Amity?"

"Not his turf is it?" The pointed look met its mark even before she followed it with, "Besides, you've got his kryptonite."

Baffled, Danny pointed at himself. Ember helpfully pointed at him too. Following her finger, Danny unhooked the thermos from his belt.

"For a guy who is all about boxes and other things cubic, the only thing worse for him would be a sphere."

Aaand there was the Infinite Realm's 'logic' catching Danny off guard again.

"I guess it doesn't matter how powerful he is if I'm always fighting him with the perfect weapon."

"Yep, now get searching. I don't have all day and this place doesn't have any sort of organization."

With a groan, Danny snatched the CDs from her hand and got to work.

[the-ace-with-spades]

My firefighter!Bradley and naval aviator!Jake AU might be silly and a bit cracky but in all seriousness, I like to think that after they've been together for a few years and Jake retires from the Navy, they'd work together - aerial firefighting is an Actual Thing in California and I like to think they'd pair up to fly tactical for CAL FIRE or other company that is outsourcing for them.

Bradley would advance from Lieutenant to Captain and Jake would retire as a Commander, maybe, and they would both qualify to fly OV-10 Bronco.

Tactical pilots usually work with Fire Captains -- they, to simplify things, fly the plane while the captain takes account of the fire patterns on the ground (direction, spread speed, weak spots, wind changes, potential residential areas to evacuate, etc) and then fly over the flames from higher up so the captain can guide the airtanker's water drops.

I like to think it'd be Jake's idea. He'd get a promotion offer to Captain but with that promotion would come moving to Virginia and Bradley's whole life was in California - his parents, his family, twenty years of a career in SDFD, his childhood memories. So when he tells Bradley, he just kind of shuts off, congratulates him and says he's proud of him but it's clear he's given up already. He doesn't want to be bitter about it b/c Jake is obviously happy about it but it feels like an inevitable end for him.

Even if he did want to move, Jake knew that he'd most likely have to start from the bottom of the ladder if he switched to a fire department in VA and that's if at the time they'd have recruitment open. All his hard work would just be gone and he'd just have Jake to compensate for all the things he sacrificed.

And over the years they had multiple arguments about how Jake doesn't treat Bradley's job as equal to his own just because Bradley doesn't have deployments or orders that are set in stones (i.e. how the first Christmas Jake wasn't deployed, Bradley had a shift and wouldn't call out even if he could b/c his crew was counting on him or how he couldn't pick Jake up from the airport when he got stuck at five alarm fire) so just thinking about asking Bradley to leave his whole life behind to stay with Jake brings a sour taste to his mouth.

And in the end, Jake doesn't think it's worth it. Sure, his pension will be lower and he won't make it to admiral like he thought he'd when he went to the academy, but his flying time would be cut anyway and in all honesty, the thought of settling down makes him much happier than being stuck at the other end of the country with occasional video call from Bradley and no other family in his proximity. They wanted to have kids eventually and he didn't want to be a dad that just kind of comes around six weeks a year and leaves all the hard work of raising kids to his partner.

Obviously, he'd have to find some type of work and he doesn't really have much of any idea aside from that he wants to keep flying. Airline pilot seems boring since it's all so automated and private sector is kind of hit or miss and financially unstable. Flight instructor would be a good one if he was a bit more patient but he isn't.

Two weeks before he has to make a decision, Bradley volunteers to take a crew from his station to help with the wildfires up north. He kits out, Jake drives him to the station so he can take the spare fire truck without leaving his car in the parking lot for days. Jake gives him a kiss goodbye and tells him he'll visit the camp with some snacks and pick-me-up things for the crew.

For the first time since they've got together, Bradley tells him not to bother.

It's kind of heartbreaking so Jake decides to ignore it and drives up to the main camp anyway. Bradley is out on a trail with a crew so Jake just waits.

Then wind changes and he hears that Bradley's crew got cornered up the hill. The next five hours is the worst five hours of his life.

Finally, a Super Huey lands in the camp and Bradley, sooted up so badly his yellow jacket is basically black, with red, teary eyes, steps down out of the helicopter's cockpit. Doesn't even let Jake hug him because I'm covered in carcinogens, baby, you stay away until I have a shower.

He does take a shower and Jake follows him to the bathroom, not letting him out of his sight. Jake asks what happened and Bradley says something along the lines of thank god for aerial firefighting and Jake has a lightbulb moment.

The next morning, Bradley is sent out again and Jake stays in the camp, helping around as much as he can. It gets a bit dead when all the crews are sent out so to take his mind off Bradley being god knows where after he almost burned to a crisp yesterday, Jake starts to research aerial firefighting, bumps into info about tactical pilots, has another lightbulb moment.

Declines the promotion offer while still waiting on Bradley to come back to the main camp.

[microwave-core]

Roxie Posting

Sorry that I've been sitting on these for awhile. I haven't had a ton of motivation to write recently, but I really enjoyed writing these once I finally sat down to finish them up!

First thing that comes to mind, Roxie is a night owl and has an absolutely terrible sleep schedule. She spends most of the night at the Virbank Gym, and other venues around the region when she’s traveling, so she ends up tucking in during the early morning hours, typically sleeping in until noon, if not later. She goes to sleep at more reasonable hours sometimes, but she won’t be happy about it.

She isn’t against cuddling, but it usually doesn’t end up happening, likely because your sleep schedules don’t line up all that well (or maybe they do, I don’t know). If you settle into bed with each other, she’s actually a bit clingy, wanting to be held close, but she tends to sprawl out once she’s asleep, and also shifts around quite a bit. At the very least, it’s easy to get out of bed once you wake up.

Roxie’s style in outfits isn’t particularly set in stone, but her hairstyle is. Letting her hair down doesn’t happen often, much less in public. She usually only lets it down at home, typically when sleeping or showering. Even then, though, it’s not too uncommon for her to fall asleep with the ponytail holder still in. Her hair itself is pretty flat and a bit thin, and doesn’t tangle easily. Surprisingly smooth, nice to brush and card fingers through. 

Music is obviously her passion, and she loves inviting you out to spend a wild night at the club, letting you watch her shred and sing her heart out, taking pride in you watching her work. At some point during the night, she’ll stop in between songs, pointing to you in the crowd, claiming that the next song is dedicated to you. Although, all of the songs are when you’re there to hear them.

She’s not on stage all night, taking a break or two to just relax her voice and fingers and bask in the night’s glow. She loves the club’s fiery aura, but she also loves the cool air of the night. A bouncing joint gets hot, temperature wise, quickly, after all. She’ll seek you out in the crowd and pull you out to sit in a nearby alleyway to unwind, chatting and laughing, before stepping back in. 

If you manage to stay the whole night without heading home early, she’ll gladly walk back home with you, obviously tired, yet satisfied. Always complains about the sun coming over the horizon. The sunlight, though faint in the early morning, is too much for her dark-adjusted eyes. 

When she goes traveling for league business, she asks you to join, obviously. Traveling with a partner is way more enjoyable than flying solo. League work is just work, but once she’s off the hook, she’s walking into the nearest club or bar. Whether she plays a few songs or just vibes in the crowd depends on where she goes and on how drained she is from the aforementioned work (although the prospect of music seems to give her a second wind). She drags you along to the place, and you’ll have to drag her back to wherever you’re staying at a reasonable time.

Roxie owns tons of different guitars. Her iconic black and purple, Scolipede-inspired bass is her favorite, but she has many others. Some of them are relatively normal, but she has other pokemon-inspired one’s, including some other Venipede line inspired ones that came before her current. Loves bold colors, flashy patterns, and unique shapes. Has commissioned Burgh at least a few times to sketch up designs for her. She also plays and owns a few different instruments, but bass is her one true love.

Would absolutely love it if you played an instrument or sang. While she’s clearly very rock and punk in her style, she’s more than willing to indulge in other genres if it means jamming with you. Loves all types of music, whether she admits it or not. To her, the perfect date is just the two of you lounging at home, donned in comfy clothes, while mindlessly prattling out beats together. The compliments on your skill will be endless. Would love to teach you guitar if you didn’t play it already, making for a surprisingly good teacher.

Greatly encourages you to follow your dreams or pursue your hobbies, but also advises you to not just up and leave everything else. Especially if you have an important job that would greatly disturb the life of others if you just suddenly stopped, like her old man did once.

Speaking of her old man, she complains about him from time to time, but she does care about him a whole lot. Holds the whole “suddenly abandoning being a ship captain to star in movies” thing over his head, if that wasn’t already obvious. While she does find him embarrassing, she does introduce you to him once you’ve been together for a while.

She writes all of her own songs, and is usually pretty good at it. When she’s facing artist’s block (or writer’s block? I think both technically apply in this context), she gets incredibly frustrated. She’ll pace around her home, pencil in hand, room covered in crumpled up and torn pieces of paper, until inspiration eventually strikes her. You might have to step in and force her to take care of herself if it goes on for too long, although it might be easier to help her find the inspirational spark she’s in need of first. She can be damn stubborn at times.

The lyrics of her songs do tend to be pretty simple. The intricacies of her work stem from the notes. Loves to inject solos, guitar riffs, and heavy basslines into all of work. She doesn’t stay in the spotlight all of the time, though, giving her bandmates the time in the limelight with their own solos. They’re just as important to their performance as she is, and so she wants them to be recognized for all of their hard work and skill.

Roxie doesn’t just take pride in her music, she takes pride in her strength when it comes to battles, too. Her beloved, toxic babies put everything they have into each and every battle. Whether win or lose, she’s proud of them. Her confidence isn’t arrogance, however, as she’s more than willing to acknowledge another’s strength if they beat her. She likes a challenge, and throws herself into any battle, even if the odds are stacked against her.

Along with inviting you to her gym when it’s a bumping club, she also invites you to listen in to the band’s practice before the night hits. Not only does she take comfort in your presence and value your feedback, it also gives you the chance to watch her face off against any challengers that stumble in. What can she say, she likes to show off in front of you.

She’s… not the most romantic person in the world, but she is passionate. Don’t expect her to come up with elaborate date ideas, nor a wide diversity in the one’s she does propose. She’s fine with going out to restaurants or to see movies if you want, but she’s unlikely to suggest those ideas herself. Most of her date ideas boil down to clubbing, concerts, and walks in the moonlight. 

Middling with affection. She’s not averse to it, but she doesn’t always actively seek it out from you, unless you’ve been apart for a long time. Kiss her on the forehead, and she’ll melt into your arms.

She’s most certainly a little spoon.

Her love language is definitely words of affirmation. She’s not writing sappy love songs or anything, but she’s good with her words, and knows how to string them along to fully articulate how she feels in the moment. 

Now, if you’re in a relationship for long enough, then she will actually write a, if not multiple, love songs for and about you. They aren’t overly sappy, like said above, but they are a bit cliche, as they detail everything she loves about you, and how proud she is of you, and everything she’d do for you. These tracks are for private performances only, though, made for your eyes and ears alone.

In general, she’s a pretty good punk girlfriend. As long as you aren’t looking for the overly romantic type, have a love for music, and don’t mind wrangling her in now and then, you’ll get yourself a loyal partner who will, quite literally, sing her praises for you.

[scoutpologist]

you are the sun. you heal, you burn (for tntduo fic thing)

THANK YOU

okay so we've got an interesting dichotomy and a very magical air in this title so i'm definitely thinking something fantastical. fantasy au!

i'm imagining the "you" in this is wil, because he's the character out of both of them who's most likely to be volatile and have a "healing"/"burning" dichotomy.

i see wilbur as some sort of unique type of mob hybrid, a phoenix, with his abilities and species kept secret because of how valuable and identifiable they are.

i don't want any of that hybrid discrimination shit in this universe - most people have some sort of mob trait, and if they don't, they're not seen as inherently better. different species' mingle together happily.

each species comes with it's own unique traits. for example, quackity would be a duck (because of course he is), meaning he's a naturally good swimmer, has a pair of waterproof wings that he can use to fly for long distances, can sense magnetic energy (internal compass), and has a very strong respiratory system.

quackity is an amateur volunteer town guard (not a cop. more like a security guard) who's keeping the peace at the public market. he meets wilbur, who's new in town, and then five minutes later someone's stand goes up in flames out of nowhere.

obviously the guard collects itself and makes sure everyone is safe, but afterwards they start looking for the perpetrator. for some reason, quackity has an odd gut feeling about wilbur (who had vanished at this point) and tracks him down about a week later to interrogate him about it.

wilbur denies any involvement with anything that happened that day, but he says that he's always happy to help the guard. quackity can't tell if he's being a little shit or not but he takes his word for it, and the next time another case of arson happens, he asks wilbur about it, and wilbur very surprisingly is able to help out.

they start working together when there are random cases of petty crime or violence and quackity is sticking his nose in shit that he really shouldn't. guards don't typically investigate, they usually help immediately with emergency situations and try to help keep the townspeople physically safe in the moment.

quackity starts pulling some strings and begins to realize that wilbur is involved in some shit that's a bit deeper than he bargained for, but he wants the help, so he thinks he doesn't have a choice but to stick by him. he's also noticing that wilbur is hiding something (his species) that's making it difficult to trust him.

meanwhile, wilbur is working with an underground crime guild of which he has honorary membership (phil is the leader, techno co-leader lmao) to track down the owner of a remote magical item that could help him ensure his own safety and somehow manipulate his species traits to enable him to use them on others. aka, he'd have the power to heal and bring people back to life.

chaos ensues as they do various bullshit that eventually leads their paths crashing into each other, with quackity investigating wilbur's entire group and getting allies to help him do it and wilbur trying to evade detection while he makes progress on his ~ quest ~.

eventually quackity gets involved in the underground crime scene himself and finds himself very surprisingly in his element, taking his knowledge from a not-so-great hometown and an amazing strategy for several common gambler's games to win as much power as he can to unravel what exactly is making this city tick.

running out of steam but the fic would be long and winding and have LORE that would all culminate in this huge thing at the end with all the characters that have been acquired throughout and the main two would both have to make a big choice (between each other or their dreams). and i would cry

okay that's it sorry it took ages i'm insane and this idea is making me insane!!!

[gabriellerudessa]

Arrival Celebration

I finished typing at 2 in the morning for Brazilians. Then things happened and I couldn't post it.

Now I can! Happy Arrival Celebration, Vyn Fandom, and Happy New Year to everybody else! Be with my watercolor and soft fanfic Prophetess x Tharaêl (almost 3k words, it was supposed to be short! *cries*)

This happens around nine months after the Rhalata questline, with Tharaêl and Arelyel already having found their way around each other. Hopefully I'll manage to write a longfic about these in detail lol (I started. Let's see were I go lol)

Anyway, hope you all like it! Cheers!

EDIT 5 Jan 2023: At my desktop, thank God. Corrected some typos and spacing and the wording of a phrase I hadn't noticed was weird. (posting this on my phone was crazy) You can read it on AO3 now if you prefer too.

Also, because of AO3, Titles! The one I choose comes from a line from the song "Taste" by Sleeping at Last.

(I almost named it Ricochet after the Starset song because it came up on my playlist as I started thinking of a title but TOO SAD)

What Light Tastes Like

The wood creaked and groaned and the wind howled outside the cave, sometimes overpowering her humming; still, the fire remained steady, illuminating the camp and her work, hands flying through the embroidery in progress.

She had to finish that night.

Barring a crippling injury, she would reach Ark the next day and it wouldn’t do for the gift to not be ready. Or she to lose for the second time the Arrival festivities. She was late enough as it was reaching the city on Arrival Day instead of before.

Cassiopeia, Sirius’ mother and a grandchildren of endraleans, would’ve had pulled her ears if Arelyel was late for Arrival in any of her ten years before the woman’s death.

Or finishing a gift so late.

As Arelyel understood now, gift giving wasn’t really a part of the Arrival Celebrations in Enderal, but she had loved the tradition that Cassiopeia had made a part of their lives. A spiced wine for Jespar, a treatise about the Order’s history for Calia, a scarf for Esme, even a dagger for Arantheal and herbs treatise for Yuslan… And some carefully chosen gifts for Constantine and Lishari and Sirius, buried by the side of a well-traveled path to be found by someone in need  –all dead, Sirius at the year before, but she had been unable to do the proper rite Cassiopeia had taught at the first Arrival she had spent in Enderal.

Only Tharaêl’s gift wasn’t ready. It took her ages to think properly of something, and obviously she had decided it should be something handmade.

It would make Cassiopeia proud. Arelyel had eight years when Sirius’ mother took her in, and for ten years had taught Arelyel so much – cook and sew and embroider and another dozen things from a gentler craft that Father had kept away from her hands.

Don’t. Think. About. Him.

A needle pinprick kept her in the present. She briefly stuck the finger in her mouth, just enough so blood wouldn’t mar the fabric.

In the lull of the work, she reached the bowl of wild berried and edible flowers she had gathered earlier with the other hand. Two lonely berries waited her.

Damn it, she had finished it already.

Sighing and praying for speed, Arelyel eat the last berries and went back to the embroidery.

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

Tharaêl threw a look at the scroll by the table at the door side, shook his head, and went back to mixing the meat stew.

The invitation had arrived one week ago.

Arelyel had been gone already two weeks before it, three now, resolving things fuck-knows where.

He was worried, a little bit, it was unusual for her to be away so long at a time and last one she had returned… Almost as bad as when he had started living with her. He didn’t want a repeat. The worst was that he had no way of truly reaching and warning her about the Arrival Celebration at the Sun Temple she, as the Prophetess, should go.

As it was, night was falling already, meaning such Celebration was starting, together with the festivities at the market.

Maybe she had forgotten it was Arrival Day. Not that surprising if she got stuck at a sunless place for days, as it was prone to happen.

Maybe it was better this way. The invitation said “scarlet garments”, and the only red clothes Arelyel owned were the Order’s uniform. He had seen then once, months ago, when he helped her clean the house, at the bottom of a chest.

The door burst open, bringing with it a biting cold and some snowflakes. And Arelyel, armored robe dripping water and snow and bits of ice covering it in places.

“Malphas’ balls, when Ark got this cold?!” Tharaêl left the stew to close the door as Arelyel put her bursting backpack down, teeth chattering and skin cold-burnt.

“It was worse yesterday.” He locked the door, worry melting into contentment at her return.

“How?” Stiff fingers fought to unclasp her soaked cloak from the armor, and Tharaêl approached to help.

“Snowstorm. It let down during the night, but all day it kept snowing on and off like this.” The cloak fell heavily to the ground, and Arelyel groaned at the loss of weight.

“Oh. Hope it doesn’t get worse again. Thank you. Help me with the rest? My fingers really aren’t helping.”

Tharaêl hummed an agreement and threw a look at such fingers and their fingerless gloves as he started at another buckle of her armor. Pale, nails purple-ish. He hoped it was just superficial.

The both of them made quick work of divesting Arelyel from the armored robes, and soon the woman was standing in the middle of the room only in the shirt and leather pants she used under it all, thankfully mostly dry.

And then she hugged him, as she had for almost six months now.

The first three months she always asked if she could before, and always retreated if the answer was no. Then he said she didn’t need to ask anymore; she still let her arms loose so he could leave if he so wished, and only when he hugged back did she tighten them.

Tharaêl almost immediately put his arms around her shoulders tight and pressed her cold cheek against his clothed chest. There hadn’t been a hug he hadn’t returned – he didn’t want to relinquish it now that he had a taste. Also, with how many weeks she could be away, it wasn’t as if he got that many hugs.

“I missed you.” She whispered after a moment, arms around his middle tightening, and both of them relaxed, breaths deepening.

“… Me too.” He admitted after a moment, heartbeat too fast for some seconds. He was sure she could hear it, specially as she burrowed deeper in the hug, no space between them. Tharaêl felt as if they were trying to swallow each other.

Minutes passed, inside only the sounds of their breaths and of the fire in the hearth, outside hurrahs and happy screams as the night completely fell and the Arrival festivities started around the city.

But in between them, there was just an intimate and comfortable silence, and he felt a deep contentment, almost happiness, as the hug comforted and warmed them.

The screams outside had already dimmed when Arelyel retreated a little to look at him. He felt her hands, chastely at his sides, their recovered heat scorching through the fabric.

He didn’t know exactly what to do with his hands, not with her still so close. He never knew. In the end, he kept them at her elbows, half of him tempted to reinitiate the hug and keep it for days.

“What did I miss? Besides the beginning of the festivities, you know.”

“Well…” The question brought his thoughts back to the celebration at the Sun Temple that should’ve had just started. He looked over to the rolled parchment. “You were invited for the festivities of the Arrival at the Sun Temple. It must have started around now.” Tharaêl pressed his lips, a smile tugging at them at how her shoulders dropped. “You also must wear red for it.” Her shoulders tensed. “And something representing the Crimson Star.”

“I had to be the Prophetess and an Arcanist of the Order.” She mumbled, closing her eyes and breathing heavily through her nose. “Tealor will have my skin. When did the invite arrived?”

“One week ago.”

She blinked, then scoffed and rolled her eyes. Hard.

“I was at Duneville at the time and they knew because they sent me there and not even a note mentioning that maybe I should come back earlier.”

“Will you try to go?”

Arelyel pressed her lips, eyebrows tight in though, and let go of him, crossing her arms. Tharaêl let his hand fall, closing them in fists. He wanted her answer to be “no”. The invitation was clearly just for Arelyel, and he didn’t want to remain alone, not when she was in Ark.

“… I don’t know. I don’t even know if I have proper clothes. I’ll… Clean myself and decide.”

As she heaved the backpack on a shoulder and caught the rolled invitations, Tharaêl rolled her words and her voice over and over in his head. Something in the news about the invitation had subdued her happiness at being back, and he didn’t know what.

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

Arelyel faced her reflection, fingers dancing over the embroideries of the dress’ bodice.

The only red clothes she owned were the Order’s uniform. They had been used once, as she gained them, then forgotten in one of her chests, and it showed: they had been made for an Arelyel still too thin and scraggly of the months as a clandestine at a ship and then of living in the woods as she found her way through Enderal. The months after it, eating well and fighting and walking all over the country, had put back all the muscle and fat she had lost, and now she was once again the plump and rounded figure she always had been since her teenage years.

And even if the uniform still fit…

She would never use it again. It had been difficult already and she couldn't use it again.

Red was her mother’s and sister’s colors. They were always using it, beautiful in its vibrancy, and while Arelyel did use it as a kid, she always preferred the purples and lilacs.

Now, just the thought of dressing in red made her stomach roll and her vision darken at the edges. They were using red that day…

Pressing her eyes closed, she inspired deeply, the fragrance of the meat stew playing with her senses and making her stomach rumble with hunger. Back in the present.

Eyes open once more, she drank in the dress again and repeating to herself not red.

And it wasn’t.

Long, cotton outside and lined inside in wool, it was blessedly warm. And its wine-red color was deep enough to be almost purple. Just occasionally the light shone in the fabric just right and showed strands of red.

It should work.

She didn’t want to go to the Celebration.

Maybe she shouldn’t.

It wasn’t as if she had skirted around the final preparations for the market and caught glimpses of the food there. She was almost sure it would better than anything at the Sun Temple, as always – not because the food at the Sun Temple was bad, but because it would be almost exclusively for the nobles and rich, and months at the Nobles Quarter had taught Arelyel that she very much preferred the food of the common people. Tealor wouldn’t be happy, but when was he?

Still reflecting on going for the market, she raised her short cloak from the bed. Her eyes danced over the slightly irregular sewing against the dark-purple woolen fabric lined inside with fur, and her fingers danced over the red embroidery along the front, hundreds of tiny twelve-pointed stars spread out in a falling pattern, the string bright and eye-catching.

It was an almost exact replica of the one Cassiopeia had given her at her first Arrival in Sirius’ house. The original had been sadly lost in the civil war.

The woman had been faithful and devote. Had said that the stars where to remember Arelyel that, the same way Malphas had guided his followers, He had guided Arelyel to Cassiopeia and Sirius when she needed.

Even with her new knowledge, Areyel couldn’t bear the thought of the remade cloak not having the stars.

She threw the cloak over her shoulders and used a simple golden brooch to hold it together.

A last look in the mirror. A new reading of the invitation.

She would go to the market. There, Tharaêl could come – he had failed to mention that the invitation didn’t extend to company, otherwise she would have said from moment one that she wouldn’t go.

Better.

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

Arelyel came back down twenty minutes later, dressed in a deep wine-red dress, almost purple, and with short cloak reaching her wrist over it, light-brown hair down. The colors warmed her skin and even harmonized with the burn scar covering her chin.

Tharaêl forced himself to not stop breathing.

Why? It wasn’t as if she dressed that differently on a day to day basis.

Still, something… She was beautiful, but in that moment, somehow, she looked even more.

Deep in his chest, he felt it, and swallowed. A tiny bit of jealousy, that others would be able to look at her like that for the rest of the night, while he would have just this glimpse, this crumb.

Dressed like that, there was no way she wasn’t going to the Sun Temple, were he hadn’t been invited.

It was Arrival Day. Living in the Undercity, he had never celebrated it, barely acknowledged its existence. But after nine months under the sun… He had started to hope, before the invitation, that he would spend it at her side.

“… Hope you have fun and to like the food.” Tharaêl managed to say, voice steadier than he felt.

Arelyel stopped by the dinner table, fingers playing with the cloak’s hem.

“I won’t go to the Sun Temple Celebration, but to the market one.” A pause, licking lips. “Will you come with me, Tharaêl? I think the food there will be amazing.”

Warmth spread inside him, both from her own invitation, and from the sound of his name on her lips; every time she did it, it was like that, full of warmth and softness.

More hours beside her. That was everything he wanted.

“I’ll just get my cloak.”

Which he did. And then Arelyel was holding his wrist and looking better at such cloak.

“It is too threadbare, Tharaêl, it won’t keep you warm. Wait a second.”

She flew up the stars, then flew down, carrying a leather packet and pushing it towards him, eyes low.

Heartbeat fast, Tharaêl caught the packet and opened it. A neckline became visible, a gold amethyst brooch caught in thick dark blue-gray fabric.

He pinched the neckline in his hand and pulled. A cloak unrolled from the leather, inside lined in thick fur, fabric with the subtle gleam of magic, hundreds of tiny twelve-pointed stars embroidered at the front, a reflection of Arelyel’s own cloak. At a glance, it should just cover his hands.

Tears burned in his eyes. He had seen Arelyel sewing and enchanting the one she was using. It was obvious that the gifted one was also her job.

She had done so much for him, and now this.

“… It is beautiful.” His voice threatened to fail, but it kept on.

Arelyel smiled, eyes raising finally to his, and Tharaêl hoped his face managed to show just a glimpse of his own emotion to her.

He made a move to put the cloak, and Arelyel’s hand touched his.

“… Can I help you with it?”

Tharaêl’s voice disappeared, throat seemingly closed, and he needed long moments to be able to nod.

Arelyel stepped closer, pulling the cloak from his hands softly, and licked her lips.

“Can you lower a little, please?” she whispered, and Tharaêl leaned toward her in a mock reverence so she could reach his shoulders.

Their noses almost touched. He could see all the details of her face, all the different hues in her brown-eyes, all the marks of the cold at her cheeks, all the grooves of the burn scar, all the plumpness and natural red color of her lips. He breathed in, and the smell of lavender from her soaps enveloped his senses.

Arelyel threw the cloak over his shoulders, arm around his neck for a moment. He wished it was for more than a moment.

“You can straighten.” Another whisper, and he mourned the distance as he did as he was told.

Lastly, she fiddled with the brooch for some moments, then fixed the fabric over his shoulders… He wondered what exactly she saw at that moment, if a friend, or as someone… Worth of the same wonder and enchantment and whoever knew what else.

“How does it feel?” she asked, finally, bringing him back from his musings, and Tharaêl moved his arms.

“Comfortable, warm… Perfect.”

She smiled, and took hold of his wrist.

“Then it is time to go. Many foods to taste.”

As she pulled him towards the door, Tharaêl just laughed softly.

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

The moment they were outside – snow and cold, but no wind –, Arelyel passed her arm around Tharaêl’s own, pressing their bodies close together and muttering about the “bloody cold” and that she hoped the market would be warmer.

Tharaêl laughed, then pulled the hood’s cloak over her head before doing the same with his.

As they walked towards the market and its merry sounds, he kept his eyes ahead, preoccupied with the patches of frozen snow around the city. He looked briefly to see Arelyel, her cheek pressed tightly against his shoulder, but not enough to caught her own glances at him – full o wonder, and enchantment, and who knows what else.

[lgcjino]

RE: INTRODUCE YOURSELF ! NO WAY  —  INTRODUCE YOURSELF ! OKAY ! — lgc retreat introductions

introductions, in very little words, were a very hard concept to jino.

while his laissez faire attitude would rather he just let the wind take the reins and fly along it’s current, the amount of cameras and accompanying staff made it very hard to not overthink it.

and thinking obviously was not jino’s forte.

he wanted to make a good impression, but he also didn't want to come off like he was trying too hard, y'know?

so, when it finally comes down to his turn. he’s become a bubble of overthinking that as he’s wound so tight in his little what the fuckery balloon, he’s practically deflated and brain blanked when all eyes turn to him.

he can feel his throat go dry  —  but, after a quick one, two breath, he clears his throat and does the customary bow and wave he’s learned over and over again in their cultural and societal norms classes. 

“yes, hello! i’m the agency’s moon jino but today i’m trading my acting boots for dancing shoes as a member of crystallis’ team,” he strikes a pose, specifically a check-mark finger-post beneath his chin, “jino-yah.” he does a corny one-two-step, for effect, before clapping his hands. 

“i haven’t trained that long, just a little over a year and a half at this point, but don’t underestimate me! i’ve got some tricks up my sleeve.” 

and tricks he did have.

“i happen to be 189cm.” it was a fact that he will forever bring up  —  quite proud of the height that had suddenly been brought upon him in the cusp of his latter teen years. “and yes  — you can check it, i am not exaggerating that number.” 

“i can play the guitar, i learned it back in primary school to pass the time because i broke my leg while trying to get my soccer ball out of a tree and couldn’t play any sports.”

one of those tricks happened to be oversharing.

“another thing about me …”

to say that he learned to do handstands for the ‘just-in-case-he-was-asked-on-a-variety-show-and-had-to-demonstrate-a-special-skill’ wouldn’t be a complete lie. 

in fact, it might very darn well be the entire truth, because, as he now explains it  — with a whooping smile at that, jino thinks: thank god, i learned how to do this for this exact moment.

“i also know how to do three different types of hand stands.” and where he doesn’t expect to actually have to show them all, he sees the cue to … well  —  demonstrate just what those three different ones are.

and so, he prepares.

“ah, give me a second  —“ he pauses, turning around suddenly, making a show of checking the inside of his shirt because the off chance that his shirt suddenly rid up was optimally high and jino did not want to suddenly be baring something he shouldn’t, before whipping back around and rubbing his stomach, once more all smiles  — as if relieved with what he had found in his short inspection. “okay, we're all good.” he says with a laugh.

he gets into position: “shall we count?”

one! 

slowly, he folds forward; allowing gravity to take the slightly hold of his limbs as he bends down, feeling the weight shift from the soles of his feet to his palms as he is suddenly inverted upside down. it lasts for a little more than a couple seconds before he returns to his standing position, a little breathless as the blood rushes all to its original places.

a-two!

again, he reaches forward to fold over; a complete copy to the first hand stand. it’s only difference is the way he now bends at the elbows, his head falling closer to the ground by several centimeters as he does a complete push-up. he almost completes it when he suddenly feels a strong gust against his midriff, realizing in embarrassment that in his attempt to push himself back up, the thrust had guided gravity to pull the hem of his t-shirt down. “ah!” thankfully, he’s already up and standing before his shirt could expose any more than a couple blocks of his stomach but his hands still, quite comically reach up  —  crossed over his chest, more or less covering his nipples that he hopes no one saw because he had forgotten to wear an inner layer that day  —  as if to protect whatever shred of modesty he had left.

and three?

“let’s just end it at two,” he laughs again, feeling the reddening in his ears begin; a hand moving to smooth his hair back and out of his eyes. “don’t want to give myself away too much.” 

he didn’t want to give too much of an impression on the first day — let alone, that type of impression.

another laugh fades his introduction before he nods his head twice, bowing out of the center of attention as he’s welcomed back into the throngs of the crowds, head shaking at what he had just done.

so much for a good first impression.

[linkedkeysau-official]

Linked Keys Febuwhump

Days 19/20 - "You deserve this"/knife wound

As much as he generally tried to avoid violence, Hyrule was not the type to go down without a fight. He’d offered himself up to the enemy to save Future, sure, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t make it hard for them to use him as the sacrifice they needed to revive Ganon. Unfortunately, his usual tactics would prove to only get him hurt worse in this case. 

He tried to fight back, taking out a few Moblins and a Daira with lightning before igniting his sword and attempting to finish off the rest of the monsters in a swirling blaze of fury. He’d managed to cut their numbers down until only the leader— Hylian in appearance like him, though obviously some kind of wizard— remained. Then he was sent sprawling across the ground while his sword went flying in the opposite direction. He couldn’t retrieve it without having to run past the wizard, and Hyrule’s life wasn’t the only one at stake here, he reminded himself. He still had to get Future, who was sopping wet, seemed to be having some kind of reaction to whatever tainted the water of Hyrule’s world, and barely breathing as it was.

He could come back for the sword later. His best chance was to grab Future and run. But no sooner had Hyrule scrambled to his feet and took off running when he suddenly felt pain rip across the back of his left thigh, causing him to stumble and fall once more. Thankfully the wound didn’t seem to have hit an artery or anything, but the sight of his own blood as it spilled down his leg made Hyrule feel dizzy and nauseous. It didn’t help that whatever magic was used to inflict this wound felt like it came with an extra dose of pain, because despite being a relatively minor cut (at least compared to others Hyrule had received over the years) it was agonizingly painful, too much so for Hyrule to even think about trying to stand again.

“You don’t get to run away again, Hero. Your time is up. And if you try to resist again,” The wizard gestured to Future, “Then your friend will be the one who pays for your misdeeds. Do you understand? You will come with me, and you will meet your fate as the one whose blood shall awaken the Demon King once more. And then maybe, depending on how well he behaves, I may consider letting your friend go.” Without even waiting for a response from Hyrule, the wizard waved his hand, forming a magical chain that bound Hyrule’s wrists together. He was then pulled along roughly behind the wizard while Future remained suspended in the air by magic beside him. Surely Hyrule could think of an escape plan… He always did.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hyrule did not come up with an escape plan. It wasn’t for lack of trying, but nearly everything he came up with that normally should have worked if he’d been alone, he found would be far too risky to attempt with Future’s life on the line. And by the time the wizard reached his destination, it was too late. Dozens of cultists gathered around a massive urn which Hyrule could only guess held the ashes of his enemy. Monsters of every kind guarded the ritual location. If Hyrule were the type to curse like Legend or Wind, this would most certainly be a situation where he would have dropped an “F bomb”.

Future was quickly taken away and by a small portion of the crowd, tied tightly to a nearby tree where he could be easily watched and, if he were to wake up, he would be forced to witness his friend’s death. Without a sword, and low on magic (He probably could only manage a shield spell at this point), Hyrule was too small and powerless to even try to get away as he was then dragged towards the center, pinned down, and tied to to a large wooden frame that could be placed over the urn so that any wound he received would bleed directly into it. He didn’t see a way out of this one. He let out a helpless sob as he realized this was it; he’d failed. 

He failed and there was nothing he could do about it now. He could have prevented it… But doing so would have required him to selfishly endanger his friends— no, his family— to save himself. As if he hadn't sacrificed enough innocent lives, led an entire kingdom to further ruin and decline by not being better. If he had done a better job at defeating Ganon in the first place...He wouldn't be cursed. He wouldn't be hunted. Those precious few who tried to protect him… wouldn't be getting hurt.

You deserve this. It's your fault. You didn't do good enough the first time. You brought yourself and your friends into this mess. And in the end, you got yourself caught, he thought to himself. He deserved this. He was hopeless. All he ever did was mess up. He could only hope the other heroes would be able to fix his mistake once he was gone.

The other heroes… Hyrule turned his head to the side and saw a few familiar faces hiding in the bushes. He tried not to let his surprise show on his face. He couldn’t risk the cultists turning against what could possibly be Future’s last hope. The blood from his leg was already dripping into the urn, lightly sizzling as it hit the ashes below. The wizard stepped up onto a raised platform beside it, holding a very impressive dagger in his hands. A dagger that was about to end Hyrule’s life, he reminded himself. 

Whatever happens to me, don’t let my failure doom this world. Whatever happens to me, please let my brothers be able to fix it. Hyrule prayed silently, Hylia… Or whoever is up there… I know I’ve never prayed to you before…But please protect them. Protect my family.

Hyrule’s vision became a white-out of pain as the knife was driven straight into his stomach. He quickly realized they didn’t just want him dead, they wanted him to suffer; otherwise they would have gone for the heart. They wanted him to suffer. They wanted him to watch the results of his failures come to reality. They wanted to make him spend the last minutes of his life in agony, and regret, and utter despair. And as much as he hated it, as much as he hated this situation he was in… He still felt wholeheartedly that it was what he deserved.

 His mind was reduced to a fog as the cultists erupted into cheering and chanting. Chanting for their master. Cheering for the death of the hero. Warm wetness was quickly soaking Hyrule’s tunic, turning it from green to a horrible, ugly shade of dark brown, then dripping down into the urn below along with the blood from his leg. The sizzling became more of a violent bubbling as the ashes slowly came together to begin taking a new form. Hyrule would have vomited, but all that was in his stomach now was his own blood.

“YOU BASTARDS!!!” Legend shrieked. There was the sound of people attempting to run away, only to be swiftly knocked out by the pink ball of sheer rage that was the veteran. Someone was messing with the ropes at Hyrule’s feet. He looked down through the haze of pain to see Paint working on freeing him. When he couldn’t figure out how to untie them, he drew his sword and just cut them off the frame, holding Hyrule’s legs up so he wouldn’t fall into the Ganon goop. A second person cut his hands free before wrapping their arms around his body underneath his armpits to lift him up and out of the danger zone. Wild, seemingly the one to have picked up the dropped Master Sword from Future’s capture, stepped up to the edge of it and thrust the blade downwards at the same time Hyrule was dragged away to safety. There was an explosion of dark magic, so sickening to even a half-fairy that it actually did make Hyrule vomit blood all over himself and the ground. 

“Shit… Rulie!” Legend cried as he gently lowered his wounded brother to the ground. He quickly removed his green cape, rolled it up into a ball and pressed it painfully hard against the stab wound. 

“Ow…” Hyrule muttered, voice slurred a little bit as blood loss began to catch up with him.

“I’m sorry, but I need to keep pressure on it so you don’t bleed out!” Legend snapped back, but with no real meanness to his voice, only the protective frustration that Hyrule knew was just a front for fear and concern. 

“Hhha ha hha yu’re w’rried ‘bout me.” Hyrule chuckled weakly.

“You fucking idiot, of course I’m fucking worried about you!!! I just watched you almost get used as a human sacrifice and not be able to interfere until the knife already went into your godsdamned stomach!” Legend huffed, shouting to the others, “I need a potion or a fairy or something over here right now! He’s lost too much blood already!” Legend tried to keep pressure on the wound until someone arrived with more supplies, mostly taken from Hyrule’s own bag. When Paint sat down beside the two, Legend noticed Hyrule wasn’t making jokes anymore, but instead just staring blankly into the sky above. 

“Check his pulse, I think he might be going into shock.” Legend told his descendant frantically, noticing the lack of awareness and shallow breathing that had suddenly crept in. The rapid, weak pulse in Hyrule’s neck against Paint’s fingers confirmed it. This was bad. What if they couldn’t get him to drink the potion?

Well, they had to try. While Paint uncorked the bottle, Legend moved Hyrule to where his head was propped up on Legend's lap, hopefully making it easier to drink without spilling or choking. Paint tried to bring the potion bottle to Hyrule's lips but he seemed too dazed to realize what it was or what to do with it. 

"S'poison… Y' tryna kill me…" He guessed. 

"It's not poison I swear. This is going to heal you. Okay? But you need to drink—" Paint was cut off by Hyrule's feeble attempt at blowing a raspberry, laughing before he erupted into a coughing fit, blood spraying from his mouth as pain shot through his body with each wet hack. Legend, realizing there was probably no other way to do this at this point, grabbed Paint's hand with his free one and held it against the wadded up cloak, now stained with Hyrule's blood just like everything else.

"You keep the pressure on it. I'll handle this." He snatched the bottle from Paint's hand as they swapped roles. He pinched Hyrule's nose until he was forced to open his mouth, then slowly poured the potion in, holding his mouth shut with his other hand once it was gone so Hyrule would have to swallow. As soon as he did, the bleeding lessened. His flesh began to knit itself back together. The cut on his leg disappeared entirely. The wound in his gut remained, but was far less severe now; something that would be easily stitched and bandaged.

But what the potion didn't do was replenish the blood lost. That would have to be done over time by Hyrule's body itself. It was a miracle that they managed to stop it before it was too late. But even Legend had a moment of panic when, finally relieved from the majority of the pain, Hyrule fell unconscious in Legend's arms. Yeah, he'd probably feel pretty shitty for a while. And there was no way he was using any magic for at least a few weeks, Legend would make sure of that.

But he was alive. They'd stopped the ritual just in time. And they got Future back in one piece as well, which was about as good an outcome as they could have hoped for, all things considered.  They were both so grounded for this, though…

[wingzemonx]

Flying in the Wind [Genshin Impact] - Chapter 19. My eternal gratitude

Chapter 19 My eternal gratitude

Kazuha didn't need too much explanation or prompting from his hostess to start speaking. Some of the words he would pronounce he had repeated several times in his head over those eight years, not knowing for sure if the day would come when he would have to pronounce them. But the day had indeed arrived; strong, forceful, and inevitable.

"When my father died, my uncle had to take the clan's leadership since I was too young to do so," he explained in a firm and solemn voice. Ayaka, still sitting right in front of him, was listening intently. "That did not prevent him from explaining to me in his own way the situation we were going through and telling me that it was my responsibility to do something to solve it. Back then, I... could only understand part of what was happening. They had already told me before that things had not been going well since my grandfather's time. And trying to recover somehow, my father got involved in several businesses that did not turn out well. I don't know if his gambling addiction came as a result of his failures, or maybe it was the other way around. Anyway, needless to say, that didn't help either. Instead, he got involved with bad people and he ended up owing large sums of money to them; even after his death..."

Kazuha lowered her eyes a little and let out a short sigh; maybe of tired, maybe of embarrassed...

"I was just a kid," he pointed out apathetically. "I did not understand at all any of those topics my uncle talked to me about, nor everything they actually involved. It is even possible that I do not fully understand it even today. And, of course, much less did I know how I could solve any of it. My only alternative was to trust my uncle and that he would do what was best for our family and me. And it was then when he managed to get your brother to consider me a viable candidate to be your husband."

Hearing that, Ayaka instinctively turned her face to the side as if she didn't want him to look directly at the emotion that had drawn on her. Was it anger? Was it sadness? She wasn't sure, but it wasn't a nice one.

"To be honest, even now, I don't know how he did it," Kazuha added right after. "And I especially don't know how he hid the real situation of our family from the Kamisato clan advisors."

Maybe he didn't know it, but Ayaka was present that day to witness her brother's anger, and she knew from that moment that he did have a theory about it. He obviously didn't share it with her back then, but Ayaka found out about it through other means.

"My brother has always believed that your uncle somehow colluded with his advisors to deliberately withhold that information from him, taking advantage of the fact that he had just become head of the clan and was not yet soaked in the entire situation of our vassal clans. Perhaps he did it through bribes, or perhaps with other types of promises in the future when the marriage took place."

"I wouldn't be surprised if that was the case," Kazuha replied with bitterness in her voice. "Anyway, all I knew at the time was that I had to impress you and your brother to accept the engagement, and so I did. Because they had convinced me that it was my responsibility as the future leader of the clan."

"But you didn't want to, did you?" Ayaka asked. And although she received no verbal response, the boy's silence was enough. "So... it was all just about the money? From the beginning...?"

"For my uncle, it was," Kazuha said quickly, looking up again as confidently as he could. "All I wanted was... to somehow fulfill my supposed duty to my family. But, Ayaka..."

Kazuha leaned his body forward, planting one of his hands on the ground for support and inching a little closer to her. Ayaka was slightly shocked to see that his gaze had turned firm and determined, very different from the sense of defeat that seemed to grip him just a moment ago.

"I swear I never knew my uncle's true intentions," he declared fervently, holding his listener's gaze. "I didn't know that he had kept our true situation from your family, nor about the loans he took out using your brother as a guarantee, or any of the dirty business he was running. I found out about all this practically at the same time as the others. But..." He was silent for a moment, but almost immediately, he continued. "In hindsight, I should have known. It was quite obvious, and I didn't see it...or didn't want to see it."

He slowly backed away, resuming his seat, crestfallen.

"You said it, Kazuha: you were just a kid," Ayaka pointed out, remaining calm. "You can't blame yourself for that."

"I've told myself that many times," Kazuha muttered with some discomfort in her voice. "But the only truth is that I was my uncle's accomplice in all this in one way or another. And just like Katsumoto said, I was just as guilty as he was for ruining my family..." He slowly raised his gaze back to Ayaka, forcing himself to face her again. "And also to ruin our friendship... and our engagement."

Ayaka felt slightly embarrassed by those words and the intense pain they conveyed to her. Again she was forced to turn her gaze elsewhere. Her fingers pressed lightly against the fabric of her skirt.

"Perhaps if I had been braver, more cunning, or more intelligent like you, I could have done something so that things didn't end the way they did," she listened as Kazuha pronounced slowly, almost as if it was more for himself than for her. "But the truth is that by the time my uncle fled, the damage was simply irreparable, especially if it was left in the hands of a business inept little boy like me. In the end, I decided to leave everything, and whatever happened had to happen. The Kaedehara clan fell, not because of the action of just one, but because of the bad decisions made by three generations before me and because I was not able to deal with it."

"If you could redo something differently... would you do it?" Ayaka whispered with slight curiosity.

"About letting my clan fall to ruin? No..." Kazuha replied slowly. "I still think it was the best I could do at the time. Although I am ashamed to say it, the truth is that after my father, uncle, and grandfather's actions, the Kaedehara clan no longer represented even a shadow of what it was before. What I could come to regret about that was how it ended up affecting others, like Katsumoto. But after what happened tonight, I understand that I can't regret the decisions and actions of others. I chose my path after what happened, and it is clear that Katsumoto and his followers did the same. However..."

There was a moment of silence and a small flash of hesitation, but calm and firmness returned to him. And holding Ayaka's gaze fully again, he added:

"If there is something that I would like to redo or change somehow, it is the damage that I could have caused you, Ayaka... or what you could have ended up believing about me after what happened."

Ayaka was slightly startled to hear him say that. Again some blush was painted on her cheeks, but this time she did not turn her face one bit to hide it.

"Because," Kazuha continued, "beyond everything I've told you, I ask you to believe me when I tell you this: although I first went to meet you because of what my uncle had told me, the truth is that was never my main reason to continue visiting you. Life at the Kaedehara Estate had become unbearable after my father's death. I quickly began to feel like a complete stranger, suffocated in my own house... But everything changed whenever I saw you. The moments we spent together those two years were by far... the happiest of my childhood. And I have always carried each of those memories engraved in my heart. And if I've been avoiding you all this time, it was out of sheer cowardice and feeling unworthy to even tell you this. And because... I thought your life would be much better without the memory of that betrayal haunting you. But now that you have given me this opportunity, I have no choice but to do this..."

Kazuha placed both hands on the ground before him and slowly leaned his entire body forward until his forehead touched the ground. Ayaka watched him, puzzled.

"I want to offer you my most sincere and profound apologies for all the pain I caused you and your family. I know that coming from a man who is now just a simple wanderer, a pitiful apology like this is worthless. But having nothing else to remedy the damage caused, I'm afraid it's the only thing I can offer you..."

The room fell silent. Kazuha remained in the same position, motionless as a statue. Ayaka watches him silently, slowly calming the incessant pounding that hammered in her chest. As soon as that conversation started, she felt very confused about what she felt hearing her old friend's explanations. But those last words, and seeing him there bowing before her with such regret crushing him... Ayaka finally had it quite clear.

It wasn't an explanation or an apology what she really wanted when she searched so hard for Kazuha. What she really wanted, the only thing she wanted... was him. See and hear him again; have her old friend once more in her life.

"Look up, Kazuha; please," Ayaka murmured slowly, not as an order but a sincere request.

Kazuha did just as she was asked, standing up again. And as his gaze rested on her, he was surprised to see her smile broadly at him. And there was no disgust or anguish in her eyes but totally opposite feelings.

Ayaka moved a little closer along the floor until she sat closer to him. Kazuha sat up straight again and faced her head-on. He was trying to focus and prepare for whatever was coming... but the intoxicating scent of flowers wafting from her distracted him again as soon as she was close to him again.

The young Kamisato then began to speak in a cautious voice:

"The truth is that in these eight years, I thought a lot about what I would say to you if one day I saw you again. There were many things I wanted to ask or claim you. Things that my brother, the time, and the pain made me believe. But as soon as I saw you tonight, all those things just slipped out of my mind. Seeing you standing there in front of me in that dojo, I didn't think about anything I thought I wanted to tell you. The only thing I thought about was how really happy I felt to find you and know you were okay..."

The smile on her thin lips widened even more, and her entire face was suffused with a radiance that Kazuha found almost blinding. But he didn't look away; his whole body refused to take his eyes off her as if he thought she might simply vanish into thin air at first distraction.

"Kazuha," Ayaka continued, "the moments I spent with you were also the happiest I've ever had, especially after the shadow over me due to my father's death and my mother's illness. And I don't forget either that you were my greatest support when she died. You were my best and my only... friend. And I have fondly carried those memories with me over the years too. And for that, what I owe you is my eternal gratitude."

And with those words pronounced, Ayaka closed her eyes and slightly inclined her body towards him, in a bow that was perhaps not as deep as the one he had made but that, given the circumstances, felt much more important.

"I don't deserve your words, Ayaka..." Kazuha muttered, a little embarrassed.

"I think totally different," answered the blue-haired girl, straightening up and opening her eyes again. "The fact that you stood here before me, and told me all this face to face, shows that you are still the noble, good and kind boy that I knew."

"You forget yesterday I ran like a coward as soon as I saw you."

"You must have your reasons for doing so," Ayaka answered in a slightly playful tone, shrugging. "But you didn't run away tonight, and that's what counts for me. You are here right now, with me..."

Kazuha was utterly speechless. There were no words in his mind that he could use to express what was going through his head and flooding his chest at that moment. His crimson eyes were absorbed in contemplation of her as if he wanted to memorize every inch of her face.

And so, as sudden and spontaneous as everything that night had happened, Kazuha was struck by clarity. The affection and gratitude he felt for the memory of the Ayaka he met years ago were not compared to what he felt right now towards the beautiful woman before him, who smiled and looked back at him with so much light radiating from her. They were the same person, of course, but at the same time, they were too different. And in a way, this whole encounter was almost like seeing her for the first time. And with just that short time they had been talking, Kazuha was hopelessly captivated. Or, he would even dare to say that he was...

"Ayaka..." he uttered suddenly with some force. He didn't even think about it; his body simply did it of its own accord, as if somehow wanting to get rid of what was stuck in his chest.

The young Kamisato jumped, a little surprised by the sudden mention that broke the slight silence they had fallen.

"Yes...?" She spoke slowly, a little unsurely.

Kazuha hesitated. His heart was pounding, and his breath had almost entirely left him. Her lips opened, but no words came out of them. What exactly did he mean? What words together could give shape to what he wanted...?

"I..." he said slowly, instinctively bringing his body closer to her. Ayaka tensed a little but remained still in her position, expectant. "Ayaka... I..."

The calm that had been perceived until that moment was broken by a sudden hustle and bustle coming from outside the room. Some shouts and especially hurried footsteps against the wooden floor of the corridor.

Kazuha's sharp instincts kicked in, and his first reflex was to grab his sword from the ground and jump up to stand protectively right in front of Ayaka. His hand rested near the hilt of his sword, ready to draw, and his eyes fixed on the door.

An instant later, before either of them could do anything else, the screaming became much clearer to both of them:

"Taromaru, no!"

"Tama, wait!"

And before the astonished looks of the two young people, the room door opened, and the small white figure of the cat Tama jumped inside, followed closely by the slightly larger one of the dog Taromaru. Both animals meowed and barked, respectively, running and chasing each other, right around them now. It didn't take long for Thoma and Tomo to appear as well, each behind one of the combatants.

Ayaka reflexively pressed herself against Kazuha's back a bit. Not out of fear, but rather not to get in the way of that persecution. From their position, she and Kazuha just watched all the sudden chaos.

After several attempts, Thoma and Tomo managed to bind both animals to opposite room corners.

"Stop, Taromaru!" Thoma exclaimed loudly and quickly took the Shiba dog tightly in his arms. It jerked and barked frantically, but Thoma managed to not let him get away. "What's wrong?! You don't behave like that!"

For his part, Tomo had taken Tama in his hands a few moments before she ran away between his legs.

"I'm very disappointed with you, Tama," he said angrily, holding the cat in both hands in front of his face. She responded with a loud, threatening snort. "Hey, don't talk to me in that tone, young lady."

One of the waitresses, who seemed to be behind them, suddenly appeared in the doorway, visibly agitated. Thoma hurried over to her along with Taromaru and passed it to her.

"Get him away from here, please," he instructed the girl, who held the canine as best she could. Once he was outside, Thoma quickly closed the door, thus trying to keep at least a barrier between them. "Taromaru never behaves this way. It seems to me that he must have sensed someone's bad intentions..."

Making such a comment, which almost seemed like an accusation, he discreetly turned in Tomo's direction.

"Hey, Tama is a good girl," the wandering samurai defended himself. "I won't let you accuse her like that."

"Who said I was talking about the cat?" Thoma muttered with some sarcasm.

Tomo, more than annoyed, seemed amused by that.

"So much paranoia," he commented into the air as he tucked Tama back into his kimono, much against her will. Once all was quiet, he turned to the two previous occupants of the room. "Excuse us, please. Did we interrupt you in the middle of something...?"

The tone in which he had asked that question confused Kazuha and Ayaka a bit. However, they both became aware almost simultaneously that Ayaka was still pressed against the boy's back, so they quickly jumped to the side, marking a suitable distance between them.

"We were just talking," Ayaka hurried to clarify.

"Of course," Tomo muttered with evident skepticism.

"Be more respectful," Thoma admonished him, though there was a hint of concern in his voice. "Is everything alright, Lady Ayaka?"

"Yes, of course," the young Kamisato answered quickly, clearing her throat a little. Then, with forced calm, she turned back to Kazuha. "Thank you for jumping like that to protect me... but it wasn't necessary. I told you this was a safe place, remember? But still... thank you for your concern."

Kazuha sighed slowly, letting out a bit of the weight he was carrying inside. Sure, if there had been any real danger, she would have jumped to her sword and defended herself without him having to intervene. And in fact, in other circumstances, he might have realized that it was just a dog and a cat chasing each other, and he wouldn't have reacted in such an exaggerated way. And yet, at the time, his body had moved on its own, without much thought.

"What were you going to tell me?" He heard Ayaka ask suddenly, drawing his attention back.

"What?"

"Before Taromaru and Tama came in, you were going to tell me something... right?" murmured Ayaka slowly, her white cheeks turning rosy again. "What was it...?"

The moment came crashing back to Kazuha, and he was almost tempted to thank the Archons for the interruption. What right did he have to say what he intended to say at that moment? He had simply gotten carried away for the moment, not thinking of the consequences his words might have on Ayaka. And that made him feel totally despondent.

Being interrupted had been for the best.

"I think we've caused too much trouble already," he muttered suddenly, standing up quickly and practically ignoring Ayaka's question. "We should go now..."

"No!" the young Kamisato uttered forcefully, also standing up. She instantly brought a hand to her mouth, embarrassed to realize she had inadvertently raised her voice too high. "I mean... it's a little late. Are you staying somewhere?"

"No," Kazuha replied, shaking his head. "As I told you, it is not recommended that we stay in the city near the Tenryou guard for a long time. So we're camping on the outskirts."

"But... you could stay here for this night if you want," Ayaka suggested quickly, taking everyone, including Thoma, by surprise. "It is a safe place, as I already mentioned. The Tenryou Commission won't bother you here. And if you haven't had dinner yet, I can also ask someone to prepare something to eat... if you want..."

Ayaka's lips pressed together slightly as she stared at Kazuha for his response. He seemed a bit stunned. Did she really not want him to leave? And, to be honest... did he want to leave?

Tomo cautiously advanced towards his friend, standing next to him.

"It would do me good not to sleep a night in the open for a change," the samurai added calmly. "And of course, also eat something hot. But you decide, friend."

That didn't sound like he had the decision, though Kazuha knew deep down that his words were sincere. And what he was doing, in part, was giving him an excuse to accept the invitation without putting all the blame on him. That was the kind of person Tomo was...

"If we don't cause you any trouble..." Kazuha muttered slowly.

"No problem at all!" Ayaka replied quickly, smiling as broadly and beamingly as before. And at that moment, Kazuha knew there was no way he would get away from her. Not for the rest of the night, at least. "Thoma," said the Heron Princess, turning to her servant, "can you ask the attendants to prepare a room for two and also something for dinner?"

Thoma seemed visibly unsure about it. But once again, it was not his place to contradict his mistress's wishes.

"Right away, my lady," the blond man replied solemnly, heading immediately for the door.

"Ah, how is Mr. Ouji?" Ayaka asked quickly before he left.

"He's not awake yet, but he's already settled in his room."

"Very well; I hope he reacts soon. Thanks, Thomas.

The young servant responded with a simple smile and a nod before leaving the room to fulfill her request.

Author's Notes:

Not too important to mention, but I wrote the entire draft of this chapter in one sitting, and now my fingers hurt. It's just that the whole scene with Ayaka and Kazuha required all of my concentration, and I couldn't get distracted. And being already in Chapter 19, in addition to closing with its pending issues, it was necessary to move things forward a bit. What did you think? I am happy with the result. The night between these two has been long but still refuses to end. In fact, do you realize that all of this has happened in just two days? Don't you feel like much more time has passed? That's crazy...

[bonesandthebees]

Okay, so I expected like maybe 20% of that chapter, and the rest completely got me off-guard. But it’s so good. I had so much fun reading that. Also, I’m letting you know I will nerd out over the linguistics because it was mentioned in the fix for the first time. Also, they have a festival? Mind telling me more cuz it sounds really cool. What do they celebrate? Just the king? Or the end of the windy season? Or both?

-🌲

HA im so glad i managed to take you by surprise with most of that chapter. soooo hyped to hear your analysis, especially nerding out about the linguistics. I was so excited to finally get to throw a bit of that in the fic itself properly for the first time

yes they do have a festival, Vindrūl is one of the biggest holidays on Eldingvegr because it's meant to celebrate the end of the windy season! the festival isn't actually tied to the king, but the last king (tommy's father) died during the windy season because of the winds, so obviously people weren't very into the idea of celebrating that year.

I'm actually going to have wilbur talk about it a bit more next chapter, but I'll tell you the fun facts rn anyway. bit of a sneak peek i guess lol

Vindrūl is celebrated with lots of dancing, sending off flying lanterns into the sky since the winds have stabilized, lots of feasting on traditional foods and sweets (dagrbrað was mentioned in the chapter. it's a type of sweet, cake-like bread that's sprinkled with lots of sugar. it's very delicious, and traditionally only made for very special holidays on Eldingvegr), and later in the evening lots of drinking gets added to the mix too. it's one of the most cheerful holidays on Eldingvegr, and a childhood favorite of many. it's also one of the only holidays they have that's not specific to some historical event or the like, so there's a much more relaxed attitude regarding who can participate. if you were on Eldingvegr during the windy season, you're part of the Vindrūl celebrations. the festival is for anyone who made it through the season, even if they're only just visiting Eldingvegr and not a native to the planet

(this is also why it was probably Wilbur's favorite holiday growing up. not even the rudest servants would be annoyed at him or niki for joining in, because they had gotten through the windy season just like everyone else)

I'll probably repeat a lot of this next chapter so enjoy this preview :D

[flyingpochama948]

Tera Types for Sonic characters

Something that floated into my brain while trying to take a nap. Well, it started out as how Rouge would react seeing the crystals in Area Zero. My conclusion was she'd cry and want to live there forever.

But anyway, it wouldn't surprise me of Sonic and his friends had the ability to invoke the Tera powers for themselves.

So what type would they be?

Sonic - I never really know what type to put Sonic as. I can see him with a Grass Tera type because the headpiece reminds me of the flowers in Green Hill Zone. And he does have an affinity for plant life and flowers. Flying is also something I thought of cause it's close to his wind element. But since he's always wielding new powers, what if he was the new Stellar Type? Seems very fitting, or at least for Super Sonic. But a bit ironic that this fast hedgehog would have a tortoise for a Tera crystal.

Tails - Electric most definitely. Due to being techno savvy and has wielded electricity powers before. Also he has many ideas which fits perfectly with the light bulb headpiece.

Knuckles - Fighting. The headpiece is a giant fist, like come on. Through Rock and Ground would work too but I can't pass up the giant fist.

Amy - Fairy. Giant pink heart like the ones that come out of her hammer. Could be a reference to her love for Sonic.

Cream - Flying. I initially thought Grass for her but seeing her wearing the Balloon headpiece is too precious. Also, she flies so it works.

Shadow - Obviously Dark. Do I really need to explain this one?

Rouge - Normal because she seems to have more practical and realistic methods of fighting. But also it's a big hekkin diamond ring headpiece so of course.

Omega - Steel, cause he metal. But there's something badass about that giant ax headpiece that would look great on him.

Blaze - Fire, duh

Silver - Psychic, again duh

Big - Water for his love of fishing. I think he and Kofu would get along actually.

Vector - Dragon. Ignoring the reptilian part. Vector has some Dragon like qualities. Mainly the ability to breathe fire.

Espio - Poison. Though I haven't seen him use poison, ninjas are known to carry it around. I mean half of the Poison specialists in Pokémon are themed around ninjas. Also matching colors.

Charmy - Bug, cause he's a bee.

There's some types I didn't cover as I'm not definitive on it. I think Ground or Rock would work with Tikal or Chip (I say Tikal as she has a move in SA2B called "Wrath of Gaia" hinting at some earth powers). Maybe Chaos could be Ice even though he seems more like Water. He's the closest character to actual ice anyway. It's so strange we haven't had a character yet who wields ice powers. Ghost seems like it would be most fitting for Infinite, the Phantom Ruby and all.

[darkx-the-dragon-kn1ght]

Chapter 5- Part 7

Oh yes we can! And we’re about to get away with a whole lot more (assuming our Paralysis luck isn’t horrible)! And that’s gonna start with lowering Rowlet’s Defense with Leer- Glare should be able to handle any Grass- or Flying-type moves Rowlet throws at her in the meantime. 

Now, the first thing Rowlet does is confuse Glare with Confuse Ray, so uh…para-fusion time? I mean, the Leer gets off regardless, so our luck is very good right now actually. But what’s Rowlet gonna do now? Is it gonna start spamming Peck again, or-

PARDON ME!? DID YOU SAY OMINOUS WIND!? Why does it have that!? It’s only Lv. 14! What was it, breeding? TMs? 

Oooh, this could be bad…if Rowlet gets the omniboost from Ominous Wind, that’ll make this fight even harder, and I do not want that! We can counter it by switching into Breeze, Streak, or Whiskers…but there’s one more role Glare needs to play here before we can do that. It’s time for her to use her namesake one more time, and hopefully neither Paralysis nor Confusion will proc!

And she gets it, yes!! Alright, time to switch out to predict another Ominous Wind- and who better than to finish the job than with some bird-on-bird violence (round two)? We could either Gust for super effective damage or Quick Attack for guaranteed priority and boosted damage due to STAB and Leer. 

Now that she’s on Rowlet’s level (literally), let’s see how much Gust does this time.

That’s more like it! Unfortunately, Rowlet uses Confuse Ray again, but we can just switch back into Glare to get off another Intimidate and maybe bait out another Ominous Wind for Breeze to be immune to.

But it actually doesn’t matter, because Rowlet’s Paralysis goes off and stops it from doing anything, giving us a free switch back into Breeze anyways!

So now, we can Gust and/or Quick Attack again until Confuse Ray hits again, at which point we can just repeat what we did up above. In fact- I think I’ll Quick Attack for a bit of extra damage, so we can more easily finish it off with Gust next turn (possibly).

Hehe, yet another Paralysis activation- and twice in a row from Rowlet’s end! Get absolutely bent, Fern, Breeze is just built different!

…Yeah. Yeah, I set myself up for that one, there’s no one to blame but myself.

And on this next turn, Rowlet manages to get another Confuse Ray off, so now we’re taking even more of a gamble with Breeze winding up another Gust…but maybe she’ll be able to hit through it?

SHE DID IT! BREEZE GOT IT!!

We did it, we got through the battle this time!!

What even is a “Swag Jockey”, though? What does that even mean, what kind of Trainer class is that? Pretty Boy for Cain and Apprentice for Victoria were pretty self-explanatory, but “Swag Jockey”? What, being a regular jockey wasn’t good enough for Fern, so he had to add some swag to it too?

Oh, and I can now confirm- the theme that plays at the end of these rival battles is the full GlitchxCity Primal Dialga remix, not just the intro part like I thought in Chapter 2. But you know what- it does have an odd celebratory sense to it, so I suppose it does fit pretty well for post-battle victory music.

You couldn’t have thought to do that before throwing your Pokémon at Xera like that?? Like I said in the last part??

Oh, hi new guy and the new guy’s Torkoal. A Fire-type actually would have been very helpful for this battle with Fern but alas, you’re too late, Xera already took the win.

Hey don’t drag Xera into this, she was just trying to vibe and get information- Fern was the one doing all the horsing!

…Okay, I really hate to agree with Fern here, but like- I do, to an extent? Obviously there’s more going on here, and since Xera was among the many victims of the train station bombing…well, you know, I’m sure she’d want to know more too.

I don’t actually think Xera or Fern are children, though? If I remember right, Xera’s train ticket at the start of the game listed her as an “Adult”, and I’m guessing that suggests she’s at least 18 years old, and I doubt her rivals (including Fern) are much older or younger than her. So like- young adults at best, but not children. Unless this inspector guy is just trying that hard to be condescending, which isn’t that unlikely.

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