#caw leagues

[gntlmn1]

WECW Classic 5

WECW '17 Samoa Joe vs. David Starr Samoa Joe challenges the entire WECW to a fight. The man of many taunts would answer the call. This bout between two WRESTLERS puts on a masterpiece on canvas.

[implausiblyjosh]

THE AWF PRESENTS... SURVIVE THE NIGHT: IN YOUR BROWSER

This Sunday, the fate of The AWF is in their hands. Sora vs. Xemnas Heart vs. Darkness Who will...

SURVIVE THE NIGHT... IN YOUR BROWSER

YouTube Premiere Link

[implausiblyaverage]

As we get prepared for AWF - In Your Browser II, and uploading all the 10 Minute Title matches to YouTube, take a look at Asriel Dreemurr's entrance!

[arundolyn]

The LGBTQ+ community has not forgiven Relius Clover.

absolutely not. he's bisexual but he's so cringe and fail and terrible that he is an honorary cishet

[undercovercameron]

rise and shine

summary: a little early morning action after midsummers

notes: this timeline does not really exist because i find s2 rafe sexier + midsummer didn't happen then + in this one he doesn't snort coke or kill anybody so this is truly fictional. inspired by that ass (also there are probably hints to size kink and/or a size-coded reader and i happen to not be a small person but suspend ur imagination with me) theres also def some sort of taste kink these guys have going on but im disgusting so

tags: rafe cameron x female reader

word count: 2313 this is hella short and sweet these bitches are easy on the come up (pun intended)

A bird cawes to where it seems like it’s right next to your head, and you awake with a start, gasping. 

You open your eyes, blinking furiously, and reach a hand to rub at them. Ew. Your eyes are crusty, and it feels like a thousand rocks smacked into your head. Fuck. 

Sitting up slightly, you crack open an eyelid and peer around the room. It’s bright, lit by a window that someone had left open that lights the room in gold. 

It’s nice in here, you realize. Too nice. Dark wood covers the walls and the bed you’re in has an expensive headboard and lamps on the side tables. You see the dress you were wearing to Midsummers across the way, eyebrows furrowing in thought. 

A noise comes from your left, a groan. Something tightens around your torso, and you look down to see a big, tan arm slung across your waist. You fall to the pillow, turning on your side to face the owner of that arm. 

You nearly jump out of your skin when you see his face. 

It’s creased with sleep, a clear indent of the pillow beneath his head, and his hair is messy and in his face. His eyebrows are light, and his lips are pink and puffy. His face is relaxed, jaw sharp and cheeks slightly ruddy. He’s so sleepy, and he grunts again when you sink down back into the covers.

Rafe Cameron. You’re being spooned by Rafe Cameron, in nothing but a Kildare County summer gym shirt.

(It’s his.) 

You settle, now aware of your surroundings and last night. You guess you had a little too much champagne and too much of your sister’s weed at Midsummers last night. But you’re not exactly complaining— I mean, he is a beautiful man. A little out of your league, maybe, but you have a feeling that doesn’t matter anymore. You rest your head against the headboard briefly, closing your eyes, but jerk forward.

You bring a hand to the back of your head, wincing, and touch the bruise forming there. You must’ve knocked your head against this headboard hundreds of times last night, and evidence that Rafe Cameron had you in his bed and left you with a bruise right where you’d be pressed up against the headboard makes your cheeks flush. 

“Come back,” he murmurs, into his pillow, and his fingers tighten on your torso. You acede, sliding down to where you’re fully in his arm’s embrace and under the covers, and sigh contentedly. It’s cool in here, the morning ocean breeze filtering in through the same window that warns you it’s probably early morning. He hums when you turn to face him and bury your face in his pillow, submitting. 

You take another moment to look at his face. Pretty. You can’t help but move a hand to cup his jaw, rubbing your thumb along his chin. He moves his face, trying to get comfortable, and a hint of a smile pushes at your lips. 

His arm tightens, and then he’s turning to his other side and taking you with him. You squeak, being utterly manhandled, and resign to your position as a rag doll. You sling an arm around the curve of his waist and relax into the mattress. 

He blinks into consciousness, squinting in the sunlight, and blows a breath out of his lips. You cringe, smelling the alcohol and hors d’oeuvres. 

“That bad?” He mumbles, wiping at his mouth with a thumb, and you can’t help but giggle. 

“No,” you whisper, and push with your elbow to lay a kiss on his mouth. He makes a pleased sound, lips moving against yours, and settles onto his back. His arms cage you to him, and you press your hands to his abdomen to lift yourself into his lap. You sit comfortably, hunching down to kiss him, and his hands wander your back. They settle on your hips and just squeeze, and you pull away to get a look at him again. 

He’s shirtless, tan chest on display, and you see your own handiwork on his neck—bruising hickeys and bites into his previously unmarred skin. You’re sure you look the same. His legs shuffle under the covers, hips bucking, and you make a noise as he hikes you up his body. 

“Hi,” you whisper, face level with him, and push an arm under his pillow to resign yourself into his neck. He just hums again, enjoying your warm body on top of his. His eyes are closed, relaxed, and you stroke a hand through his messy hair. 

“Stop looking at me,” he grumbles, and you huff out a laugh. 

“Sorry. Can’t help it.”

“Mhm.”

He opens his eyes then, seeing the curve of your hips on his own and just a hint of your head where it’s buried into his collarbone. 

“C’mere,” he says, cupping your face in a warm palm, and brings your face up into his vision. Your eyes are closed, and he just admires you. They peek open when he feels your cheek in his palm, just testing the warmth, and you barely smile at him. “You’re sexy,” he says, voice hoarse and rumbling through his chest, and your back tingles.

Your eyes meet his blue ones, and then he’s rising with an arm pushed into the mattress and flipping you onto your back. You make a noise, and he dips to get his mouth on you to taste it. Your legs part, something holy in his mind, and he settles between them with a groan. You’re so warm. A hand pushes up the shirt, trying to touch your waist, and he bristles. 

“Where did your underwear go?” His voice is curious, probably with bad intentions, but you just shrug. 

“Dunno. Don’t need them,” you respond, quiet, and look up at him squarely. He just shakes his head, and kisses you again. 

“Damn right,” he mumbles against your lips. You make a pitiful sound in your throat, desperate, and he can’t help but laugh a little. His hands find your hips, shoving your shirt halfway up to your chest, and his mouth slides from your lips to your neck to the hem of his shirt. He rolls it back up, pressing a kiss to your newly exposed sternum. Your fingers find his hair when he kisses at your breast, just gentle, and finds your nipple in his mouth. You arch up into him, so responsive, and it makes his hips twitch. He licks at one, hand cupping the other, and your eyes fall closed in the feeling. So good.

He’s ready to go again, you notice, and your legs tighten on his torso. He moves to the other nipple, just brushing it with his teeth, and your hips buck. 

“So needy,” he mutters, lips caught on your skin, and you agree with a brief whine. It’s sort of humiliating, but you find you don’t really care. What’s so bad about him, anyways?

His hot mouth slides down your skin, kissing his way to your stomach, and two strong hands lift your thighs to brace his head. Your chest heaves at what’s coming. He glances up to your eyes once, eye contact locked, and kisses at the inside of your thigh. So light it feels ticklish, and your legs squeeze. 

But his eyes fall away, face disappearing between your legs, and then he’s licking into you.

You grip his hair between your fingers, already making sounds that light his insides on fire, and he hums into your pussy. His grip tightens on your thighs, keeping them spread for him, and he hikes one leg over his strong shoulder. You cant your hips for him at the perfect angle, seeing his mouth seal itself between your thighs. You breathe out a moan high in your throat, and his lips close over your clit, sucking harshly. 

“Rafe,” you sigh, eyes falling closed, and bathe in the feeling of his mouth. He just responds with a grunt, tongue pushing into you to taste all of you, and he gets a taste of something salty. Fuck. He must’ve cum inside of you last night. But that only spurs him on, seeking that taste again, and his hands curl around your thighs, pushing tight at your pelvis.

It’s delicious, the way he’s having you. Dirty from last night and burying his face between your legs. You jolt when he presses a kiss at your increasingly-sensitive clit, and he makes an appreciative sound. 

“Please,” you say, desperate, and his head bobs with the effort of needing you to cum into his mouth once again. He goes for it messily, pulling back to spit on you, and pushes his tongue back into you. His thumb moves to you and rubs at your clit as he sucks firmly at your folds, licking you until you’re arching your back and whimpering.

His hips push down into the bed, searching for some stimulation, and groans when your wetness only increases. You push onto your elbows, wanting to see, and nearly cum on the spot. There’s a wet ring around his mouth, evidence of your need, and you fall back into the pillows. 

“There you go, sweetheart,” he mutters quietly, and his thumb rubs quick circles. You try to buck your hips, trying to get both somehow closer and away from the sensation, but he pushes them back down and sucks. 

Your back arches again, and then you’re making a fucking embarrassing noise, thighs shaking, and cum onto his tongue. 

He laps it up greedily, tongue still moving as you ride through your orgasm, and chases you as you buck and shiver through it. Fuck, you taste so good.

He’s satisfied then, and pushes up to kiss you. You taste yourself, tangy and sweet, whining into his mouth, and he revels in your reaction. It makes his chest well with pride, getting you so warm so early in the morning. 

“Fuck, Rafe,” you sigh into his mouth, one hand snaking around his shoulder and the other entangled in his hair. It’s soft under your fingertips. 

He pulls away, mouth wet, and has another look at you. You’re bared for him, breasts naked and chest flushed. Your cheeks are pink, and your eyes are more awake than they’ve ever been. You look so beautiful. 

“You hungry?” He asks, muffled by another kiss, and you nod. He grunts, pushing up onto an arm and getting up from the bed.

You exhale in disappointment, sad that his warmth is leaving, and turn onto your side. But you like to watch him walk away, in that tight underwear that you recognize from last night. His broad frame disappears into the bathroom, and the sink turns on. You sigh, gathering your strength, and stumble into the bathroom after him. He’s brushing his teeth, and you mourn that you can’t taste yourself on him anymore. 

You press yourself into his back, admiring the way he looks in the mirror, and he ducks to spit the toothpaste into the sink. Your hand snakes around his waist, fingers moving with less than honorable intentions, and you press your hand to his crotch. He’s hard.

He rinses his mouth, eyes flicking up to you in the mirror, and your cool hand slips past the waistband of his underwear. You grip him firmly between your fingers, and he slams the faucet closed with a forced exhale on his lips. You take his dick out of his underwear, thumb brushing past the tip, and move your hand hesitantly against the shaft.

He straightens, shoulders back with his hands pressed to the counter, and you kiss at his shoulder blade, wrist moving steadily. He grunts, head hanging, and his hips twitch when you focus on the tip. 

“Fuck,” he breathes, looking at you through the mirror, and you mouth at his warm skin, wanting him to feel good. Your hand moves quickly, seeking his orgasm, and his head leans back, eyes rolling. You smile. He’s sort of slick, easy to move with, and you hum at the feeling. 

“So good to me, Rafe,” you mumble, hand twisting, and he swallows. “You taste so good.”

It’s still so early in the morning, nobody else in the house moving around, but you’ve got him shuddering with just your hand and your mouth pressed to his strong back. His hips jerk, and your hand moves up to just the pink head, and then he’s groaning openly and cumming into your hand.

You slow, just wanting him to have the taste of overstimulation he gave you, and he nearly collapses into the sink. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he says your name for the first time this morning, and you smile at his shoulder. Your hand pulls away, and you’re licking it before he can catch you.

He turns, catching you around the wrist, and guides your fingers into your mouth, watching the way you suck and clean them of his cum. It’s so erotic that he knows he’ll be hard again if you’re not careful. 

“Now we can have breakfast,” you whisper, licking your lips one last time, and lean in for a kiss. He dodges you first, evil, and your eyebrows furrow. But he just takes your neck in his hand and gets his mouth on you, making a satisfied noise. You hum, shoulders slumping, and wind your arms around his neck. 

“We could also just stay here,” he mumbles, and you pull away to just look at him. “I could have you again.” His voice is low, still kind of hoarse, and your legs squeeze together. He notices, smirking, and grabs a handful of your ass. 

“Not yet,” you reply, finger pressed against his lips. “I need some food in me.”

“You need a lot of things in you, honey,” he says, and you roll your eyes.

[impostores0o]

Noxus pt1:

Swain, the Noxian Grand General League of legends/Riot gamesAll credits to: • Victor Maury •, Vlad BăcescuSwain Production Art

´´I tried to scream then, to confess it all. To somehow beg for forgiveness. But there is nothing now, save for the soft murmur of whispers. I spill my secrets, this tale, into your ears. Fading like the rustling of wings, as the raven cries its carrion caw..." Raum The Demon of Secrets

Credits to: Larry "The Bravo" Ray Swain development

"I have learned enough to detest all men. Only nations may be revered." — Swain

League of legends/Riot games Swain development Swain promo art

"A power beyond mortal understanding gave me the vision to see what most cannot. I peer through the darkness others fear." The Noxian Grand General

Legends of Runeterra Set 2 - Rising Tides Swain character All credits to: SIXMOREVODKA STUDIO Fanart from: @ovsosito

"If they already call me a villain, what will they call me when I succeed?" The Grand General Swain

[demonscantgothere]

Litost by Helholden, Ch. 28: For the Good of the Realm

During Ar-Pharazôn’s rule of Númenor when Sauron holds the position of the High Priest of Melkor, Galadriel is captured in the middle of a war, imprisoned, and handed over to him as a sacrifice to be made in the Temple of the High Priest, but Sauron has other plans. From Akallabêth to the founding of Gondor, unlikely allies are forged. | Bronwyn searches for clues to King Halbrand’s true identity—until someone catches her in the act. Galadriel/Sauron | Halbrand. 155.3k | 5.2k chapter.

Theo watched her, waiting for his mother to disappear around the corner, before he glanced down at his ring, clenching his fingers in a tight fist—nails digging into the flesh of his palm. He looked at the closed door of King Halbrand’s chambers before surveying the hallway with a cursory glance to make sure no one else was within the vicinity, and then he looked down at his fist, where his ring sat upon the bone white knuckles of his grip.

A deep, droning noise filled his ears as his eyes went black—black as midnight, black as a starless sky, black as ink, black as the endless Void itself beyond the spheres of the World—as he reached with his mind across leagues and leagues of distance and space and tall, swaying grass and white sands and cool wind and crashing waves and birds cawing through the sky to the coastal shores of Dor-en-Ernil.

We have a problem, he whispered—to the answering voice on the other side of the veil.

Keep Reading

[dustedmagazine]

Various Artists — Stop MVP: Artists from WV, VA and NC Against the Mountain Valley Pipeline (War Hen)

The Mountain Valley Pipeline, if it’s ever finished, will stretch over more than 300 miles in rural Wester Virginia and Virginia, crossing environmentally sensitive parts of the Allegheny and Blue Ridge Mountains carrying dangerous, polluting loads of fracked gas. The League of Conservation Votes estimates that the pipeline will generate more than 89 million metric tons of greenhouse gas pollution annually, about as much as 24 average U.S. coal plans or 19 million passenger cars. Building it will require razing forests that have been sequestering carbon for centuries.

It’s a climate catastrophe, and because it runs through an area that is rich in musical history and culture, it has become a focus for artists and activists, including Daniel Bachman, who organized this 40-track compilation in protest of the pipeline. All proceeds from STOP MVP will go to the Appalachian Legal Defense Fund to support protesters resisting the pipeline’s construction.

That is, of course, one compelling reason to buy this set of music, but it is very far from the only one. The music here is exceptionally diverse and almost uniformly excellent. If you look at the cover and envision a steady stream of earnest folk songs, punctuated by some fingerpicking, think again. Certainly that’s represented on these two discs, but so is noise and rock and punk and hip hop and even, at the end, a stirring piece of gospel that will steel you for the cause.

There’s so much music here that it’s hard to get a grip on it all, but let’s hit some highlights. Magic Tuber String Band’s haunted, haunting rendition of “Undone in Sorrow” is both staunchly traditional and absolutely modern in its lament for a natural world gone haywire. Isak Howell, similarly, finds something potent and bracing in minor key picking. Solar Hex straddles baroque classical cello and folk lament, and there are indeed four crows cawing in the background to “Stone Wall with Four Crows.” My favorite discovery in this lengthy, skewed-folk all-star line-up comes from Høly Riot’s “Spirit Riot,” which kicks up a feeling-the-lord-speaking-in-tongues ruckus with its driving, droning ecstasies.

Some of the cuts are literally about the MVP pipeline, like Joshua Vana and Bernadette “BJ” Lark’s full-throated, heart-swelling “To the River,” while others reference the area’s long history of industrial subjugation. “The Dolly Womack Wreck” retells the story of an old-time train wreck, where the engineer was flayed alive by steam from a broken boiler. “The Coal Tattoo,” sung by Bachman’s father, is about his father’s death in a mine explosion. The hip hop/electronic “John Brown” by Appalachian rapper Prolo chronicles generations of poverty and racism in the region.

A lot of well known folk and indie artists have chipped in. There are tracks from Sally Anne Morgan, Ned Oldham, Nathan Bowles, Rosali Middleton (as Edsel Axle). Yasmin Williams and Bachman himself. But the real tribute to Bachman’s taste, restless song-hunting and open-minded-ness comes from the bands you might not be familiar with, the eerie soundscapes of Tallulah Cloos, the beefy country rock of Tucker Riggleman and the Cheap Dates, the unhinged noise of Dog Scream. The mountains and valleys threatened by MVP are rich in plant and animal diversity, but also musical breadth, and this compilation brings them all together for a worthy cause.

Jennifer Kelly

[antihibikase2]

Soaring black wings glide through the air with the ferocity of a predator, as Mandibuzz’s claws held onto Hilda’s shoulders.

She may not have the same supernatural or psychic connections her friends had with their Pokemon, even with Victini following her every movement no matter where she was,

but what she did have was all of the league’s names on her Xtransceiver, and she was sure that she was at the top of their emergency contacts.

As soon as Caitlin informed her about a particularly strong distress signal coming from Route 21, just south of Humilau City, she already had a hunch on the scene she was about to witness.

She would have those trio of children handling the rest of the battles; for now, her priorities were saving both Bianca and Cheren from Neo Team Plasma- both were last heard from in the Marine Tube, where they failed to meet up with Rosa at the end of the the tunnel.

The only thing found at the scene of the crime was a half-bitten apple, one that smelled all too familiar and foul.

She doesn’t need any more proof to justify the burning anger from within her.

Mandibuzz caws as they grew closer to the flying ship. 

Hilda takes out two Pokeballs and stretches them in front of her, sending out both Krookodile and Serperior to clean out the deck. Their weight drops them straight into the floorboards, startling the grunts and giving them no time to recover.

Hilda doesn’t wait for them to get ready; just as they had played dirty two years ago, so will she.

All was fair in the name of love and war, and Hilda would not risk losing her best friends ever again.

“Baroness, Viscount,” Even through the blistering winds, they could hear her loud and clear as she hovered in the sky like an angel of death, about to deliver divine punishment. “Outrage, Dragon Tail!”

In a few seconds, grunts were blown left and right, some scampering into the insides of the Plasma Frigate to seek shelter, while very few who were brave enough to withstand her rage stayed behind, sending out Pokemon of their own.

Hilda whistles.

Mandibuzz drops her at a safe enough platform, before joining the rest of her teammates. 

Hilda quietly reminds herself to give them all a good brushing and lots of kisses later- for now, with only three Pokemon accompanying her, she forces her way into the rest of the ship, the rest of the grunts all too distracted by the sudden downpour indoors and the thunder that accompanies it.

She has a small smile on her face as she hears three familiar voices booming through the room.

“Bishop, make it rain! Big Guy, strike ‘em down!”

Then there was a strong gust of wind.

“Take the stage, Akko! Go, go, go!”

And amidst the heavy rain and the wind, she feels particles of sand brushing through her skin.

“Sandy, let’s back them up! Bulldoze!”

Reckless kids.

She passes through the corridors with relative ease; no eyes are on her and most of the rooms have been emptied of people, giving her all the time in the world to find what she was looking for- except she couldn’t afford to sightsee every nook and cranny of the flying ship.

It felt all too familiar, storming the lion’s den in an effort to save her best friends.

And if she were to take her time now as she had before, then the story would end the same way as it always had, with only a tragedy waiting for them.

Plop, plop, plop.

She turns around, seeing a little Poliwhirl with a King’s Rock on its head, looking at her all too intently with its black eyes.

“Hydro Pump!”

“Duke!”

She sends out her Seismitoad, absorbing the attack into its body even as it skids on the floor.

Hilda sees a familiar boy across the room, donning a face she swore she saw on TV before.

Then it clicks.

“Ah, you’re that,” She thinks of the proper word. “The singer. Dancer. Idol? Yeah, you’re that idol kid. The one Hughy listens to.”

The mention of his name makes the other tense up.

“What is it.. Campbell? No, no, don’t tell me. Connor? No? Cayden? Caleb? Getting warmer?”

“Christoph.”

“Christoph! Yeah, that’s right,” She lets out a bitter laugh. “But that’s not it either, right? Hughy said you guys were close enough friends for you to trust him with your real name. Your name’s Curtis.”

Curtis, unamused, recalls Poliwhirl into its ball, sending out a Dusclops instead, with a Reaper Cloth clutched into its fist.

“Now, that’s surprising,” Hilda opts to switch out Seismitoad as well, picking between the other two balls on her belt. “Your Pokemon haven’t evolved! And they’re all little ones who evolve through trade too. Isn’t an idol like yourself connected to a lot of people?”

She’s well-aware of what she’s doing, pushing the buttons of the enemy like this.

She’s also aware that this guy was probably the one who captured Bianca, seeing as it was her Pokedex he was consulting for his Pokemon’s moves.

She resists the urge to let her growing anger consume her.

Don’t lose your heart.

Curtis chooses not to entertain her taunts, glancing at the Pokedex for a second before issuing his next move.

“Dusclops, Shadow Punch!”

“Emperor, Protect!”

Her Accelgor speeds out of his Pokeball, forming a barrier between them. Dusclops bounces back a bit, but readies another attack.

“Brick Break!”

“Me First!”

Accelgor and Dusclops fists clash, both caught up in a stalemate in the middle of the room.

Hilda whistles, and Accelgor bounces back, adjusting the Choice Specs it was wearing. Dusclops struggles to remain its footing, still holding onto the small item in its hand as if it was a security blanket.

“Bug Buzz!”

Dusclops stands no chance, and Hilda lands a critical hit.

Before Curtis can send out one of the other two Pokemon he has left, however, Accelgor pins him against the wall right next to the doorway, dropping Bianca’s Pokedex on the floor.

He’s unable to move, especially with the way Accelgor was glaring down at him.

“You know,” Hilda strides to him, her boots splashing the puddles from the leftover from the earlier Hydro Pump. “You seem to know what you’re doing, at least. Relying on the dex isn’t a bad thing. If only your Pokemon could evolve.”

If Curtis tried to say something, he could barely get a word out.

“But we can chitchat later. For now,”

Carefully, from within her bag, Hilda takes out a ziplocked sandwich bag containing the half-bitten apple recovered from the Marine Tube. Though it was sealed in three layers of plastic, she could still smell its poisonous odor.

“You’re gonna have to work with me, idol boy, or you’re gonna be losing more than just your career.”

[kimchicatlover]

Viktor's Parrot

Chapter 1: Viktor adopts a Parrot

Tags: Slice of life, pets, animals, overworking, light-hearted, mutual pining.

Pairings: Romantic (Jayce Talis x Viktor) from Arcane: League of Legends.

Warnings: None.

Synopsis: Viktor's first day of officially owning a parrot. He is not a very ethical owner and Jayce tells him just that.

Word count: 2133

Viktor bought a parrot. Cramped as his apartment was, he decided to place its cage on his nightstand, hoping that it wouldn't disrupt his sleep with its movements or calls. 

The first night, all was well. He had slept better than he had in a while. After getting dressed, Viktor brought the cage to the lab. 

Jayce was perplexed, to say the least. 

"V, you didn't strike me to be a bird lover." 

"I don't love birds, Jayce. I just need a more," he turned to face Jayce, "reliable partner." 

Viktor was referring to the fact that Jayce had the audacity to agree with Ambessa on the creation of Hextech weapons. He hadn't even known the warmonger for a day, yet he trusts her with such important matters. Viktor was seriously doubting Jayce's political power.

"Hextech was meant to save lives, not take them." He had said then, eyes brimming with anger. He had felt betrayed. Apart from Sky, Jayce was his only friend, hell, Jayce was the only person he talked to, the only one he trusted. 

A long time ago, that person was Singed. Singed was a good man, Viktor just didn't understand why he would prolong the suffering of his loved ones.

Jayce understood and started with an apology. 

"Vik, I'm-" Viktor tapped his cane on the floor, interrupting Jayce. 

Jayce had a thing for nicknames. He would call him V when the mood was light-hearted or if he was just being casual. When things got a tad bit more serious, he would call him Vik. He only ever used his real name when he was dealing with something or..

"If you want to apologize, do it with your actions, not words." 

With that, he sauntered to his desk, gently placing the cage down, and started on his work.

Throughout the day, Jayce had offered to help him multiple times. He even went so far as to feed Viktor's parrot, which doesn't have a name yet. When he did so, Viktor snatched the apple slice from him and snapped, "I can feed him myself, thank you very much." When he shoved the slice into the cage, the parrot cawed at him in disapproval, turning its head away and returning to preening its feathers. Face burning red with embarrassment, Viktor roughly handed the apple slice back to Jayce. Muttering a soft "You do it." Jayce chuckled and did so. Viktor couldn't help but smile at Jayce's efforts. It wasn't enough to make him forgive him, but it was a start. Always strive for progress, eh?

When the moon was high up in the sky, Viktor's parrot fell asleep. The soft rise and fall of its chest distracted Viktor. 

"Think we should call it a day, V?" 

Ah, so he thought Viktor would forgive him already. Well, his feeble attempts and making up for his decision weren't enough.

"I'll stay here for the night." He put emphasis on the word before "here". Jayce didn't move. 

"You can go home, Jayce." 

"I know you're used to late nights in the lab, but your parrot isn't." 

Viktor looked up from his notebook. What Jayce said was true. He considered this for a moment. He averted his gaze back to his parrot. It seemed fine. Looking back at Jayce with an unconvinced stare, Viktor shook his head and continued with his work.

"V, please, what you're doing is considered animal cruelty."

"Are you referring to me or the bird?" Viktor retorted, clicking his tongue.

"It will get sick! It needs to get back home and snuggle with its owner in its comfy home."

"My home is far from comfortable. I much prefer the lab, and I think it agrees."

"You're a selfish man, Viktor. Look at it!"

He cringed internally at the word "selfish". His mother had used it to describe his father thousands of times. The word brought back bad memories, but he had learnt how to block them out. He didn't want to think about it.

When his gaze fell back on Jayce, he was gesturing towards the cage with a little too much energy, given the time of the day - I mean night - it was.

As if on cue, a long, sad chirp echoed against the walls of the lab. Viktor huffed with annoyance. His parrot was siding with Jayce, not bad. When his gaze found his parrot, a pair of shiny eyes met his. Another caw, this time softer. Something tugged at Viktor's heart. However, Viktor was a tough man - mentally - and he wasn't about to give in to his bird's pathetic efforts to stop him from stumbling upon a life-changing discovery.

He returned to his work, quietly humming to himself, a silent gesture for Jayce to leave.

"Can I.."

Viktor didn't look up, he just stopped humming, indicating that Jayce should continue.

".. Can I.." An audible gulp. ".. Walk you home.." Jayce's voice cracked just a little, as if he was mustering up all his courage to say those words. Viktor dismissed it with a huff.

"Viktor?" Ah, so he was being serious? Viktor doubted that. Surely, the man of progress wouldn't want to spend his precious time walking a cripple home.

"What makes you think I need a bodyguard, Jayce?" 

"You... I... I didn't mean it like that- It's just, maybe.." Jayce looked away and clasped his hands together nervously. "Maybe we could... I don't know, spend some time together? As friends?"

Viktor's jaw went slack with surprise. He was at a loss for words. Jayce Talis, the golden boy, wants to spend time with someone from the Undercity? He imagined that being the talk of the city, rich Piltovan snobs gossiping like high school students. Before he let the opportunity go to waste, he blurted out a response.

"Of course-"

"If that's what you want." He added, afraid that Jayce didn't actually mean it, that he just asked out of courtesy, that he didn't really want to.. Be with him. But maybe-

He mentally shook his head and pushed those thoughts away. He couldn't afford to get his hopes up, no, it would destroy him.

Switching the topic in his mind, Viktor silently cursed, suddenly remembering his purpose of being rude to Jayce: the fact that he opted for Hextech weaponry.

As quickly as the subject had been averted, his stubborn brain refused to let go of his feelings. Maybe Viktor could use this chance to finally confess his.. Thoughts. Or, at the very least, find out if he's got a chance.

Jayce's eyes lit up like a Hextech crystal. His grin was contagious, and soon Viktor was smiling too.

"Great! I- I'll help you up- here- wait, let me-" He ran over to Viktor's desk, offering his arm to him. The atmosphere around Jayce bubbled with energy despite whatever godforsaken hour of the night it was. Viktor's grin spread across his face as he accepted the hand graciously.

Jayce lifted him up with no effort, yet with much care. Handing him his cane, Jayce picked up the cage and led Viktor out of the lab.

As he was locking up, Jayce peered over at Viktor.

"D- Does it, uh, have a- name?"

Curious, Viktor looked up at Jayce. The way his head tilted slightly, how his jaw flexed as he was about to speak, Jayce's breath hitched and a color rose to his cheeks. He almost completely disregarded what Viktor was saying, far too distracted by the way his lips parted and how his head moved when he talked.

The question caught Viktor off guard.

"Eh? I- well- not- I don't really have much creativity when it comes to naming-"

He was cut off when Jayce finished locking up and walked over to him, getting too close and looming over Viktor such that he had to crane his neck to look up at him. He felt small. 

Backing up, his back was met with a cold wall. No matter how fancily those Piltovans designed their walls, they would always lack warmth and any texture whatsoever, whereas in the Undercity the walls were rough and warm, you could lean against one for hours, just feeling the rough crevices and cracks.

Jayce offered his hand again, brow creased in worry as he realized he crossed a boundary.

"Sorry- V, I didn't mean to- I just wanted to- Sorry, I should-"

Viktor cut him off by taking his hand and nodding towards the elevator. Taking the hint, Jayce led him over, carefully.

Along the way, they discussed things that didn't concern Hextech or politics, and it felt good to finally have a normal conversation about life, about the small things, inconveniences and humorous incidences. They laughed a lot, their chortling echoing along the empty alleyways, making the otherwise intimidating - but not nearly as frightening as the ones in the Undercity - neighborhood seem friendly.

Viktor pictured the angry faces of the Piltovans they'd have awoken, and grinned.

When they reached their shared home, Viktor fumbled with his keys, exhausted after the walk and from laughing so much. Nevertheless, they continued their conversation.

"How did you get this little fella anyway, V?" Jayce questioned, lifting the cage up to eye level so he could peer at the fella in question.

"Careful, don't wake it up." Viktor warned as he successfully unlocked their door. Stepping inside, he gestured for Jayce to give the cage to him.

"No, no. I'm sorry, I won't do it again." 

"Give it."

Jayce felt his heart skip a beat. Viktor's lips were pursed in a pout, and it was the most adorable thing Jayce had ever seen. He paused, still holding the cage high above his head. Despite this, Viktor reached up to attempt to grab it. When he did so, his shirt tucked out of his pants to reveal his soft, milky skin. Jayce could swear that he was drooling.

Before he could stop himself, his free hand went to grab Viktor's waist, callused fingers touching his beautiful skin. Viktor froze. As if something was controlling him, Jayce pulled Viktor in closer, such that Viktor's face was pressed against his chest.

"Jayce.." He immediately let go of Viktor's waist and stumbled back, mumbling a thousand apologies per second.

Viktor, dumbfounded, just stood in place, as if trying to comprehend what had just happened.

Viktor felt warm. He felt goosebumps on his skin where he touched Jayce and his thoughts were flinging 20 questions at him per second. But he couldn't hear his brain because all he could hear was Jayce. Not his voice, but his panting, the sound of him ruffling his hair and shuffling around awkwardly, trying to distance himself from Viktor.

It was endearing.

"Jayce.." He repeated. Jayce's breath hitched and he stilled. His mouth opened, then closed when he realized he had nothing to say. Or that he was too afraid to say what he thought. Instead, he just walked towards Jayce. Surprisingly, he didn't back away, or do anything for that matter. Viktor neared him and cradled his chin, gently.

Jayce felt crazy. In love. He released the breath he had been holding for far too long and placed his hand on Viktor's shoulder, just like he had done in that abandoned apartment..

The familiar weight lulled Viktor in and his knees threatened to give in. He let them. As expected, Jayce caught him, strong arms supporting him.. Leaning onto Jayce, he finally allowed his aching muscles to relax in their embrace.

Jayce's heart was beating furiously, too quickly, too frequently, and for too many reasons. Firstly, he was holding Viktor. His arms were wrapped firmly around his back to prevent him from falling. Secondly, he was touching Viktor. He could feel his back brace through his clothes and longed to.. No, stop that. Thirdly, Viktor was.. Viktor. He was breathing in his Viktor way, leaning his head against Jayce like he did when he talked, hands falling limply against Jayce's body.. Which didn't seem like him at all. His hands were always clasped, busy with endless projects, waving wildly in the air.. Or curling in Jayce's hair and tugging so hard that it hurt..

Concerned about his own thoughts, but more for Viktor, Jayce realized he should get his head out of the clouds and get Viktor to bed.

Before Viktor knew what was going on, Jayce lifted him up, carrying him bridal style to his room, where he gently placed him onto the bed and tucked him in, just like a loving parent would do for a child. 

Then, the cherry on top, a kiss to the forehead with a "good night". Did Jayce know, that Viktor had never experienced that before?

And he drifted off to sleep, feeling like a lover in their partner's embrace.

But he needn't feel.

He could be.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

LARP and the Real Girl: Final Part

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.3k

Warnings: canon angst and violence

Author’s Note: I am so sorry I haven’t posted. I was sick with the flu and completely forgot about it. I will be posted both episodes now!

I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated.

Gerry comes back with Monty, and the three of you are on your way. They know where they're going better than you do, so you let them take the lead. By this time, the sun had just set, so it's getting pretty dark in the forest. There are lanterns that they put up, but it's barely enough light to light your way.

"I swear, if anything's happened to her..."

"Dude, we checked all the tents. We'll talk to these guys. We'll find her," Sam assures his brother.

Gerry and Monty stop in a small clearing, telling you that this is the meeting place.

"Ca-caw! Ca-caw!" Monty caws like a bird.

"Ca-caw! Ca-caw!" a man says from inside the dark forest.

Three Shadow Orcs in cloaks walk into the clearing, carrying flashlights. The Shadow Orc in the middle has the Tree of Pain symbol on a crest in the middle of his shirt.

"Greetings, heretics," Gerry says.

"You should kneel before me, cur."

"Alright, why don't you let me--"

"Silence!" Gerry shouts, silencing Dean. "Now, before we exchange, a few announcements."

The Shadow Orc with the Tree symbol takes out his fake teeth and moves closer to Gerry.

"Um, there is a peewee-league soccer playoff game tomorrow on the alpha field. We don't want to freak out the mundanes, so we have to move the Battle of Kingdoms to the beta field."

Dean is sick and tired of this, so he removes his gun that he stashed into his costume.

"That's it. You know what? I'm gonna do this the old-fashioned way."

"Dean, don't," Sam tries, but it goes over his head.

"No, I'm--"

"I told you there are--"

"Shut up," Dean says to Gerry and raises the gun in front of the Shadow Orcs. "I need real answers. This is a real gun, see?"

Dean points his gun to the ground and shoots, scaring everyone there but you and Sam.

"This is so hot," you whisper so that only Sam can hear.

"Really?" Sam says, disgusted.

"Now, start talking. Where's the queen?!" Dean yells.

"I don't know!"

"Yeah, well, your little family crest there tells a different story, pal."

"This?" the Shadow Orc points to his chest. "I got sick last month after this thing just appeared." He takes off his right gauntlet and pushes up the sleeve of his right arm. There is the tree symbol on his arm like Ed and Lance had. "I thought it looked really cool, so I turned it into my family crest. I mean, after my dermatologist said it wasn't malignant."

"Dean, he's not our guy. He's just another victim," Sam says.

"My name is Max Hilby. I'm an attorney. I have no idea where the queen is, but if you let me go right now, I won't press charges. I promise." He takes off his fake ears and holds them with his gauntlet to Dean. "Take them. Please."

"Go. Go! Go!"

The three Shadow Orcs run away, scared of Dean. Your husband turns to face everyone else, all with different expressions on their faces.

"What?" He rolls his eyes in annoyance. "What?"

"Is the queen really in danger?" Monty asks, taking out his teeth. You and Dean nod simultaneously. "Okay, there was something odd down by the creek. It's this weird tent. It's not one of ours. It's kind of creepy."

"Why are you being so helpful all of a sudden?" Sam asks.

"Look, I harbor an epic crush on the queen. Maybe you could put in a good word for me when you find her."

"I don't think you're her type," Dean puts it plainly.

Dean and Sam walk in the direction where Monty pointed to, and Gerry follows behind them, oddly silent.

"You don't really have what she's looking for," you state.

"What is it? I can get a haircut or lose some weight."

You want to tell him he doesn't have a vagina, but you resist the comment. You shake your head and follow the brothers with Joanna jogging to catch up with you. Monty kind of gives up and heads back to camp, but Gerry is adamant on following you to the tent. Like what Monty said, there is a tent all by its lonesome.

"Why don't you take off, Bolty? We got it from here," Dean says.

"Two handmaidens and a time traveler rescue the queen? I think not, kind lady."

"Look, this isn't a game, Gerry. The queen, our friend, is in real danger. You could get hurt," you say.

"I will not leave my queen in peril."

"Your funeral."

You and the brothers head inside the tent where Charlie and some random girl are making out on the bed. Your eyes widen and you quickly look away to give them some sort of privacy. Dean clears his throat, and Charlie jumps away from the woman in shock.

"Dudes. If the tent is rockin', don't come a-knockin'."

"No, it's him! My master!" the woman gasps, pointing at the person behind you. You turn to see Gerry standing there with a smirk on his face. You back up with Joanna's hand in your own. You get to where Charlie and the woman are, and you put Joanna's hand behind you, and Charlie looks down at it. She understands what you must be telling her to do. You're the one with the magic, and you won't be able to use it if you're worried about Joanna. She takes her hand and pulls the child close to her body to keep her away from the danger.

Sam and Dean take out their guns, but Gerry only smirks at them, unaffected by their threats.

"No guns in Moondoor, gentlemen. Gilda, if you please?"

The woman Charlie was making out with sighs and made a hand motion. At a mere thought, the guns turn into feathers which flutter to the ground.

"Well, now what, Gerry?"

"My name is Boltar the Furious!" he yells in anger. "My plan was, after getting rid of all of my competition, to win the battle tomorrow, convincing the Queen that I should be her King. Then you three idiots showed up, and I was forced to improvise. Rescue the damsel in distress from the Orcs, become King, kill you three--that'll work, too."

Like hell is is putting a hand on you.

"So, why did you go from hobbling to murder?" Sam asks.

"Greyfox and Thargrim became part of the honor guard. They got close to the Queen, but they did it by breaking the rules--paying off other players with real money, rather than Moondoor currency. They were cheating!"

"Oh, and using magic isn't?" you ask.

"Magic is a part of Moondoor."

"What is your problem? Why would you hurt people? This is just a game," Charlie says.

"There is no game!" he yells at her. "There is only Moondoor! I came here to be different, to get away from my shitty life to be a hero."

"You're a loser in the real world, and you're a loser here."

"Would a loser track down a real book of spells and compel a fairy to do his bidding?"

"It depends. How'd you get it?"

Gerry pauses and looks up in uncertainty.

"eBay."

"Look. It doesn't have to be like this, Boltar. Just hand over the book of spells. We can work this out," Sam tries to convince him.

"This will all work out after I remove you from the playing field and wipe her memory." Gerry picks up a wooden sword and looks at the fairy. "Gilda?"

Gilda sighs once more and waves her hand, causing his fake sword to turn into a very sharp one.

"Gilda, the big one."

Gilda regretfully makes a hand motion, and the suit of armor behind Sam grabs him around the neck and waist. She must have spelled it to be stronger than him, because Sam can't get out of it. With Sam out of the question, it's down to you and Dean is obviously going to try before you do, and he swings his own wooden sword, but Gerry's sword cuts it in half easily.

Dean rushes at Gerry and punches him across the face, causing a book to fall onto the ground. Gerry doesn't seem to notice that it fell because he makes no move to get to it. Gerry slams the butt of the sword into Dean's face, making the older Winchester out of commission as well.

It's up to you, and you're going to make sure that he doesn't hurt anyone else. You take a few steps toward Gerry, and he turns to face you. He looks at your pregnant belly and scoffs, thinking this will be easy.

"I don't want to do this to you."

"You won't get the chance to."

He swings his sword at you, and with your magic, you grab the blade end. You look up at his shocked face, and your entire eyes are glowing with blue magic. Your magic is preventing the sword from cutting you, and it's strong enough that when Gerry tries to yank it away from you, he can't.

"I'd rather not kill you in front of my kid, but I will."

"She can't stop him. You must destroy the book," you hear Glinda say to Charlie.

With Gerry distracted by you, Charlie keeps Joanna safe off to the side before dashing to the book. She takes out a dagger she found inside the tent and raises it above the book.

"Hey, Gerry. I'm the one who saves damsels in distress around here."

Gerry looks down at his belt where he thought his book was, and Charlie stabs the book with the dagger as hard as she could. You let go of the sword and let your eyes return back to normal as you step back. Gerry freaks out and begins yelling at Charlie for ruining his plan.

The suit of armor holding Sam back falls to the ground, Sam and Dean's guns return back to normal, and the sword in Gerry's hand returns back to its wooden state. Gerry isn't too confident about his odds now, but he still tries to overpower Dean who is already on his feet. He swings the wooden sword at him, and your husband catches it in his hands. With the butt of that sword, he smashes it into Gerry's face, knocking him out completely.

"Are you okay?" Charlie asks Glinda.

Joanna runs over to Dean who picks her up and holds her close.

"I'm free of the spell. You saved me. The Hollow Forest is forever in your debt. I must return to those green hills now. I will take my former master with me. He must face a fairy tribunal for his sins."

Gilda moves to Gerry, but Charlie stops her before she can get too far. She pulls the fairy into her and kisses her for a few seconds. Glinda pulls away with a smile then winks at Charlie. She and Gerry both disappear in a twinkle and shimmer of lights.

It's late at night, and you'd rather leave this place when you've gotten a good night's sleep.

It's mid-morning when you finally wake up, and you're glad the Winchesters decided to let you sleep as long as you could. You really needed it, and when you leave Charlie's tent, they're talking in a small huddle.

"Sleeping Beauty. You're awake," Dean smiles.

"I needed those eight hours," you chuckle.

"So, what's next for you, Charlie? New town? New identity?" Sam asks.

"If the last twenty-four hours have taught me anything, it's that escaping isn't what it used to be. No more replacement characters for me. I gotta face reality from now on. Sadly, reality actually includes monsters, but what are you gonna do? If I can ever be of help to you guys, let me know."

"Are you okay, Charlie?" you yawn.

"Apart from the fact that you blocked me from banging a fairy, and I'm about to lose my crown in battle because my army is decimated? Yeah. Totally good." She starts to leave, but then turns back and holds up her hand in a Vulcan salute. "Smell you later, bitches."

"So, what's next?" Dean asks his brother. "Because no fun, right? Look, before you say anything, I get it. No amount of fun is gonna help you get over what you gave up. You need time, right?"

"Yeah. Thanks. You're right. Having fun won't help me. It'll help both of us. Shall we?" Sam grins.

You wish you could be part of this, but you're too pregnant to participate. Joanna is with you off to the side while Sam and Dean get dressed up to take part in the Battle of the Kingdoms. This is going to be really funny to watch, so you take out your phone and start recording this. This is something you want to hang over Sam and Dean's heads for as long as you can.

There are speakers hooked up so that epic battle music can be played while the battle takes place. Two armies of costumed LARPers are lined up facing each other. Dean is wearing a long-haired wig, and half of his face is painted red and the other half is painted white. He also wears two Orc ears on a string around his neck. Sam's hair is in a ponytail, and two opposite quarters of his face are painted red, and a further quarter is painted white.

"Dying in your beds many years from now, would you be willing to trade all the days, from this day to that, for one chance to come back here and tell our enemies that they may take our lives, but they will never take..."

"Hold!"

You laugh at Dean's dramatic speech. It's the only one he knows, and it's from Braveheart. Joanna sits in between your legs and claps at her father's speech. She definitely gets her theatrics from him. The music comes to a stop as a frisbee sails onto the ground in the space between the two armies. A random man jogs to get the frisbee, apologizing for ruining their game.

"Uh, my bad," he chuckles.

The man picks up the frisbee and quickly jogs off the field. The music resumes, giving back the dramatics to the players. Dean gets back into his speech mode and holds up his fake sword.

"... our freedom!!"

Both armies cheer and start to run at each other. You can't help but smile because even through every dark and depressing moment of your life, you can still find the little things to enjoy.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[implausiblyjosh]

In Your Browser III this Sunday!

THIS SUNDAY, AWF will be IN YOUR BROWSER........ THREE!

The IA TV Title and AWF Men's Championship will be defended! Returning favorites like Miku, Lobo, and Superboy! Exciting debuts like Johnny Silverhand, Kratos, and Queen! LIVE on YT this SUNDAY at 12:00PM CST!

[implausiblyaverage]

This March 31, 2024, things are going to get... F4TAL... IN YOUR BROWSER!

See it LIVE, on YouTube, at 12pm CST!

[cheemken]

Villain Diantha au

Prologue: The Plan Failed 

The rumbling of the earth, quite a sound she had to admit, watching the headquarters of former organization Flare be broken down bit by bit by her beloved pokemon. What a sight, she had to admit, watching the once powerful weapon recreated by Lysandre be destroyed alongside the secret headquarters, alongside the head of Flare himself. Oh, what a thought, toying with the ring he once bore, running her thumb over the stone in the center of it, humming a soft and quiet tune to herself, waiting for her darling pokemon to be satisfied with his deed, destroying every bit of the headquarters, of the weapon, of him, and as soon as he's done, well of course he'd be rewarded handsomely. 

What a waste, she had to admit, putting her trust on Lysandre. Alas, he was defeated by those trainers from Vaniville, a young and spunky bunch they are; new trainers, they started their journey a month ago from what she's heard from her brother. The pokemon they used, their strongest pokemon, was a gift from her brother, oh sweet betrayal, yet she couldn't fault her brother for it. She could never fault him for anything. Yet, curiously, she pondered over it, how those young trainers could easily defeat Lysandre. Were they strong? No, of course not. Young trainers—  inexperienced trainers like them couldn't just beat someone with the power of Mega Evolution. With the power of Yveltal. But somehow they did. They did have Mega Evolution on their side too, they had Xerneas. What a bunch they are, that boy managed to get those himself. 

But maybe Lysandre was just weak. 

Perhaps. No point in looking back on it, the plan failed, he failed, and she has no room for failure in her plans. Finally, Yveltal was done, flying over to her, gusts of wind in his wake, he leaned down to her after he landed, crooning so softly, so ever softly as if he wasn't the embodiment of destruction, and he bowed to her every will and command. What a good boy. 

"Very good, my darling," she cooed, reaching out to give him a soft pat on his beak. The pokemon crooned more, leaning to her touch. She rubbed his beak, blood stained her own hands, it made her smile. "Very good indeed." Although he was covered in dust and rubble, that was an easy fix, he'd have a feast for himself later. Perhaps she should've left her plans in the talons of Yveltal rather than the hands of Lysandre. Perhaps it wouldn't have failed. Arceus, how she hated that it failed, they were so close, so very close, and yet even as simple as that promise he made he couldn't keep. 

Oh, but what would her dearest brother say? He loved Lysandre, she knows. But her darling brother is too good for him. Too perfect for him. Lysandre does not deserve her brother, and it's a good thing he's dead now, lest it really would've been her own hands that killed him.

Shaking her head, she scoffed at herself, she needn't think of him anymore. What a waste of space in her own thoughts. Instead she looked back up at Yveltal, its own cyan eyes glowed amidst the destruction. How beautiful. "Come now, my darling. We must leave, there's a trainer waiting at my throne." And as the pokemon cawed and crooned, it bowed before her, such a good boy, and she recalled him back to the purple capsule like ball. The Master Ball. Calling out her own Hawlucha, the pokemon already knows what its mistress wants, and such it carried her back to the league, leaving behind remnants of a failed plan, of a dead man. 

She'll come back soon, she's sure one of her Elites would, what a lovely surprise that'd be, she can't wait! But for now… well… she has to do her Champion duties. Time to show that trainer from Vaniville that even with his own Mega Stone and with Xerneas, he won't be able to beat her.

[razieltwelve]

Stand In (Final Rose x Pokemon)

Fang bit back a smile as the novice trainer stared at her and Bahamut in absolute horror. One of her pupils was the gym leader at the Oerba City gym, but she was currently occupied due to the recent arrival of her first child. For the next few weeks, Fang would be taking her place and handling the gym, so the younger woman could adjust to being a mother.

Of course, it would be more than a few weeks before her former pupil resumed her position as gym leader, but Fang would use those weeks to make sure that everything was well in hand before allowing one of the gym’s senior trainers to take over until her former pupil was ready to return. The main issue was the gym’s senior trainers were all relatively young since the old guard had recently retired to allow their younger counterparts to take over.

“So...” Fang drawled, staring across the arena at the twelve-year-old girl who’d arrived to challenge the gym. “You’ve come to challenge the gym, right?”

The girl looked between her and Bahamut several times as the Aron at her side somehow managed to turn even paler.

“Uh... yeah,” the girl squeaked.

Beside Fang, Bahamut gave a low rumble of amusement that nevertheless sent shudders through the arena. Nearby, her Corviknight gave a wry caw as she took up a position next to Fang. The poor Aron did his best to keep his composure as he stepped forward to put himself in front of his trainer.

“I...” The girl took a deep breath. “I’ve got one badge, and I’d like to challenge this gym too!”

Fang smiled. “Sure.” She reached for a pokeball. “How about you fight...” She activated the ball. “Goomy.”

The girl blinked as the small dragon type appeared and gave her and Aron what passed as a cheerful wave. “Um... not that I mind, but you’re not going to use one of your other pokemon?” She nodded at Bahamut.

“Would you like me to?” Fang asked.

“Please don’t.” Aron nodded fervently too. A Goomy wouldn’t be an easy fight - dragon types never were - but it was a lot better than fighting a Dragonite or. Corviknight.

“Say,” Fang asked. “You do realise that teams alter their teams based on how many badges you’ve collected, right?”

“...” The girl blinked again. “Really?”

“Of course. Otherwise, hardly anyone would ever get a badge. Goomy there is one of this gym’s pokemon. Since he’s still a young guy with plenty of growing to do, he gets sent out against trainers who only have one or two badges.” Fang smirked. “I wouldn’t even consider sending Bahamut out against anyone who didn’t already have multiple league appearances under their belt, and I wouldn’t use my full team against anyone who isn’t at least a Regional Champion.”

“Oh.” The girl breathed a sighed or relief.

“So...” Fang continued. “This will be a three on three battle with the rest being standard rules. Since you’ve only got one badge, I’ll let you choose which pokemon you send out first to fight Goomy.”

X     X     X

Author’s Notes

Trainers face gym teams that vary depending on how much experience they have and what their accomplishments are. A trainer with one badge is not going to be facing the gym leader’s full strength team since the objective is to make sure that trainers are growing consistently with each badge they earn. Of course, a trainer may request to face a gym leader’s stronger teams, with some trainers even requesting a full strength battle.

When Lightning challenged Fang (back when Fang was the gym leader), Lightning immediately requested a full strength challenge, and Fang accepted since Lightning had already own multiple major tournaments and was already considered the strongest trainer in the world although she had yet to formally claim the title.

Fang frequently checks in on her old pupils, and many of her pupils send promising students to the ranch for extra training and guidance. Bahamut’s job when Fang is filling in is basically to stand there and look cool since sending him against prospective challengers is generally extreme overkill. That said, Fang is open to letting experienced trainers challenge her team just so they can get an idea of how they stand against someone who is world-class.

[15step]

RESQUEST: Morpheus x Tyler1

To the anonymous individual who requested this: hope you like it haha!!

"Tyler1 from Twitch...you, though a mortal, have inspired great dreams in others. Dreams to become a League streamer. Or even a League pro player," said Morpheus.

"SUP SUP MORPHEUS!!!!!" shouted Tyler1 from Twitch. "DUDE I am so excited to be here in the Dreaming again. Streaming League has kept me awake for THIRTY-SIX HOURS."

Morpheus was about to say something to that when Matthew the raven flew in.

"Hey boss, hey Tyler1 from Twitch. Sorry to interrupt, I just wanted to say that RPF is super unethical. Sorry to disappoint whoever requested this though CAW."

Morpheus sighed depressingly. "I suppose I should go be homophobic more. And misogynistic. This dream is over, Tyler1 from Twitch."

Tyler1 from Twitch woke up and went to go LIFT and not do cardio because he tore his hamstring.