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pixies-and-poets · 2 years

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Of Verses and Curses: Chapter Eleven

Pushed under this expanse of bursting stars Let this burning brightly illuminate the where we are In this hollow that lovers' voices occupy Let it follow that we let it free, let it fly ...

Hold these hearts courageously As we walk into this dark place Stand steadfast erect and see That love is the province of the brave

Author’s notes: This chapter’s long!! But... well, you’ll see why, I guess. A lot of important things. Wow! Hope you like it!!

There’s still at LEAST two chapters left, so you may wonder what could come after this, but, y’know. Stuff. I’m certain nothing bad will happen, right?

Warnings: Still some blood/injury description, but nothing graphic.

Fanon thanks: The idea that ghost Rabbids can keep things in their tails (besides Phantom’s integral gramophone) comes from @deezeyrabbidy !

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven - Entwined

When the unlikely duo re-entered the glade, they found Dryad tying the fresh bandages around Woodrow’s head. He had been cleaned off, the blood no longer staining his white fur, and his glassesless eyes were open, if sleepily.

“Hello again, Sweets," he giggled. "Where’s your beaver? And hello to YOU, Songbird… I missed you both.” He gave a little smile.

“Er, is he alright?” Sweetlopek asked. “I ain’t had Chipper with me all day…”

“He’s a bit delirious,” conceded Dryad. “Whether from the bump on the head, or… well, I bade him eat a little bit of an herb to numb the pain and make him drowsy. It should really be made into a tea, but we were in a hurry, here. It might cause strong side-effects in that form.”

The poet closed his eyes, relieved at seeing the other two rejoin him, and turned his head. His tongue popped out a little bit. Phantom felt a surge of warmth and a quake through his body as he suppressed a laugh. He shouldn’t be laughing… and yet it helped drown out the alarm that had seized control of his heart.

“But yes, other than the delirium, I think he’s doing fine,” Dryad finished. “He just needs to be taken to a warm bed now, to rest and recover.”

“Alright,” said the lumberjack. “I’ll take him back home. My house, I mean.”

“No!” cried Phantom, with such passion that it surprised even himself. The other two looked at him in confusion, with the poet still conked out.

“What I mean is…” added the ghost, “May I? May I take care of him? Surely you two are both busy, and I have nothing better to do… and, moreover, nothing I would rather do.”

Sweetlopek looked at Phantom skeptically, but Dryad gave him an encouraging smile. “Yes, I believe we can trust you on this,” she said. Her partner gave her a sidelong glance, to which she returned a stern one. She then motioned her hand over three cases fashioned from large nut-shells, which were lying on the hammock next to the unconscious Woodrow.

“These are the medicines I have prepared.” The leaf-crowned Rabbid picked one up, and opened it; Phantom could see that it was indeed serving as a little container for a pasty green medicine. “You should change his bandages every four hours or so. First clean his wounds completely with fresh water, and then you’ll want to apply this in a thin coat AROUND the wounds, which will help dull the pain…” She put it down, and opened the next nut. “Now, THIS one you’ll need to put on the wounds directly - make sure your hands are clean for this whole process, of course. Do you mind any of that? Blood, or dealing with injuries?”

Phantom had been listening closely, and shook his head. “Not at all. Not for his sake, especially.”

Dryad nodded, and continued. “Don’t mix those two up. And this last one-” she opened the nut to show a collection of small leaves and petals- “this is the tea. Take a big spoonful of these ingredients and brew them, and give it to him as much as he wants or needs. Mind you, it’ll keep him sleepy, and maybe a bit silly.”

She closed the cases, and reached out to hand one to Phantom. He took it, and Dryad suddenly realized he had no bag or the like; she was about to tell Sweetlopek to give up the one he had brought, when Phantom casually reached down and stuck the offering into his own gelatinous belly. For a moment it became transparent, displaying his gramophone, and now the container of medicine - he took the other two nut-shells and did the same, as well as the roll of bandages; all floating in ectoplasm along with the record-player. Then his stomach became opaque again.

Dryad and Sweetlopek stared at him, their mouths open. “...What?” he said with a shrug. “I’m talking with a forest spirit, on a planet where the warden makes things fall from the sky. Don’t act like I'm the strangest thing here.”

Soon, Phantom was carefully scooping said warden, whom he loved so desperately and dearly, who was still sticking his tongue out, from the hammock in which he lay, and into his arms. His coat was buttoned loosely around him.

“Oh, I forgot to mention-” said Dryad. “I checked the rest of his body out, and cleaned him - he’s bruised along his chest where the tree was resting, but nothing too serious. However, you may want to… keep an eye on it. Or ask him to.”

Phantom nodded, cradling the sleeping poet to his own body, feeling his slow and steady breathing and the warmth of his soft exhalations onto his chest. He was so transfixed by looking down at him that he didn’t notice Dryad float over, until he felt something silky wrap around his neck.

“And, ah, you can have this back. I didn’t let it get too dirty or anything.” She tied the cravat around his neck loosely, not really knowing how to do it properly. “Now, this, on the other hand-” she held up his handkerchief by a still-clean corner, though it was now spotted with blood. “I think for sanitary reasons we had best just get rid of it- sorry about that.”

“Pas de problème,” he said. “I have plenty.”

Dryad and Sweetlopek were soon watching the ghost carry the poet out of the nursery, back towards the town.

“I don’t like this one bit,” said the woodsman, when they had disappeared among the trees. “I wasn’t gonna argue with ya, but- it should be me lookin’ after him. I’ve done it so many times. I know exactly what I’m doin’-”

Dryad put a hand on his arm, and looked at him, her face serious. “I’ll admit I don’t quite trust him on this as much as I’d trust you. But I do trust him.” Her expression softened, growing a bit sad. “And you must realize, my love. We may not always be there to help Woodrow.”

“Why not?!” the lumberjack exclaimed. “We ain’t goin’ nowhere."

“We won’t,” she agreed. “But he might.”

“Don’t- don’t be ridiculous, hun. He loves Palette Prime more'n anybody. He loves us. He’s the warden- he… he ain’t goin’ nowhere neither. He’s never wanted to leave…”

“Maybe not long-term,” said Dryad. “Woodrow doesn’t travel much, now. But do you think the Phantom will stay here forever? And do you not think they would follow each other to the ends of the galaxy? We cannot always be there to protect him. Sometimes others must take up that role.”

A sinking feeling began to spread through Sweetlopek, starting in the heart and moving out through his chest. Dryad was wise and perceptive, as always… but after a morning like this, the thought of her being correct was too much to bear.

—

Woodrow felt something soft press onto his cheek, but did not open his eyes. He was so… so sleepy… everything was warm and cozy in the abyss of slumber. His eyelids were too heavy to open…

The soft thing stroked his cheek again, this time accompanied by a voice that was as lovely and tender and gentle on the ears as whatever was touching his face. “Tristan, mon chéri? I am sorry to wake you, but… would you please?”

The poet’s eyes opened now, and he realized that what was on his face was a large paw - Tom’s, of course, lifting him up from a pillow. He was vaguely aware of his ears being pressed down behind him, which he found mildly annoying; something on his head that certainly wasn’t his hat… and… Tom’s face staring down into his. An expression of relief was written in the ghost’s features. “Ah, there you are, darling.”

“Mmm…” He blinked, trying to ground himself in reality. “Tom, I was having the most wonderful dreams… you were…” he cut himself off. “Where… where am I?” He looked down to see that he was on some kind of plush sofa… and around him, an unfamiliar room, with carpet, and a large bed with a canopy and curtains not far away… all decorated quite lavishly with fine furniture and paintings on the walls. It was all rather blurry, as he lacked his glasses. But Phantom’s face was close and clear enough.

“This is my room, in the Portly Pumpkin,” said the ghost, caressing the poet’s cheek again. “I hope you don’t mind.”

Woodrow looked around, in some confusion. “Do you remember what happened this morning, dear?” Phantom asked gently. Suddenly, memories came back to the warden- and he felt embarrassment flood him along with the recollection.

“Oh…” said Woodrow. “Yes… Yes, I am… so sorry you all had to go through that, for my foolish sake. But still… why am I here? Why did you not take me to my own home, instead of having me impose on yours?”

“Well, first of all, I didn’t want to deal with your house's raincloud, nor for you to deal with the leaks I know you have. No offense,” he said, looking past Woodrow- the warden turned his head and saw, at the large bay window of the room, Jinx floating nearby, as if to keep an eye on them both. “And also,” said the former singer, turning back to his companion, “I did not wish to wake you, nor to break into your home without permission. So I brought you here. Besides, there’s room service, and people to assist with any emergency that may occur. I need not take my eyes off you.”

“But - people must have seen you take me up here-”

“I must inform you, dear heart, that no one seemed much surprised by any of it. You being injured, or you asleep in my arms. Surely you, as the warden, must have noticed by now that we - the two of us, in each other’s embrace - that we are not a secret to this town. …You do not wish us to be a secret, do you?”

Woodrow was silent for a moment, then breathed out a sigh. “Of course not,” he said. “I just… do not wish people to reach inaccurate conclusions.” He looked up at the other. “So why have you awoken me? It was such a lovely slumber… of course, the reality is just as pleasant.”

“Well, you see, I have let you rest here on the sofa for a while, but I thought it prudent to move you to the bed. But first, I needed your permission to- ah, you see, your coat… it is quite soiled, covered in mud and dirt from your fall. I thought it might be best if you changed into a robe, and I could send for your clothes to be cleaned.”

The warden felt even more embarrassed, realizing that he indeed had been laid upon this fine sofa in the wrinkled and dirty coat which he still wore. “The bed… your bed…” he murmured in awe. “Well… if that is truly alright with you.”

Phantom gave his companion his glasses back, which he had held onto all this time, and helped him stand - he was a bit wobbly on his feet, but alright enough - and showed him to the suite’s bathroom. He handed him a sumptuous blue silken robe before he went in, saying with a smile, “I’m sorry that it may be a bit large on you, mon ami. It is part of my own collection.”

In a few minutes, Woodrow opened the door and emerged again from the bathroom. He was indeed quite swallowed by the garments, as if he were drowning in the waves of a sapphire ocean - the sleeves and the body were loose and hung about him, and yet his legs from the knees down poked out of the bottom.

Phantom couldn’t hold back a laugh. “I’m sorry I have nothing that’s a better fit!”

“Oh, it’s alright,” said the other, smiling below his glasses and his bandaged head. “I know I look absurd, but- I feel most comfortable. And that is what matters.”

“And you shall soon be more comfortable still,” said Phantom. Before Woodrow knew what was happening, the other had swooped at him, and literally swept him off his feet. In a swift motion he was carried and placed into the bed, and the blankets tucked around him, all so quickly that it made his ailing head swoon- but perhaps he would have felt that way regardless.

Phantom then retrieved Woodrow’s coat from the hook in the bathroom where he had left it. “Now, stay right there,” he said sweetly, “while I send this off to be cared for. I’ll be back before you know it, to care for you." He swept from the room, taking the coat down to the front desk.

Woodrow watched the door close behind him, then looked around now that he could see the room better. Tom had made it his own already - he hadn’t noticed before, but amongst the generic autumnal themed decorations furnished by the hotel lay things that clearly belonged to Phantom: albums displayed on top of the dressers and shelves, a picture of the cast and crew from an opera in a frame on the bedside table, gold and silver gramophones of various sizes that were clearly awards, and even a few portraits of the singer himself in various costumes. Woodrow sighed dreamily. His touch was everywhere… and that same touch with which he pampered himself had been, for some reason, turned to the humble poet, just as tender and loving…

As promised, Phantom returned before Woodrow had time to study the room completely. “They’ll have your coat, beloved- I mean, your beloved coat- back to you this time tomorrow,” he explained, pulling up an armchair next to the bed. “I’m afraid you might have to find some new leaves to adorn it. But I will help you look for just the right ones.”

And thus began a new type of day for them both - somehow wondrous, despite the painful circumstances that were its precursor. They talked - mostly Phantom, letting Woodrow rest - telling more stories from the theatre world, of onstage bloopers and backstage intrigue, of drama between actors as heated offstage as it was under the spotlights; he explained yet more of his roles and recited some of his favorite monologues which he could still remember verbatim from productions past. His voice grew rough and raspy and crackly, and he made tea for them both (black tea for himself and Dryad's blend for Woodrow), and the warden fell asleep off and on. When the time came, Phantom awoke him gently to change his bandages and apply the medicine just as he had been instructed.

The singer had never cared for anyone like this before. Oh, he had helped Bea a few times; when she was sick, when she was hung over. But she was strong and proud and resilient, even at her lowest, and only ever needed a small amount of tending. He had never looked after a creature so vulnerable, someone who had been so frequently and severely hurt by the world. It was a new occupation for Phantom: this nursing, this caring, this type of love. And with the pride innate to him, he felt like he was doing a pretty good job, if he did say so himself.

And he wasn't wrong. Woodrow had never been cared for in such a way. Sweetlopek, Dryad, even his parents long ago… they had all looked after him, all treating him with tenderness and love in their own ways. But this… this was something else. Every action done with a flourish of passion, a touch of barely-concealed longing, a physical yearn. When Phantom unwrapped his bandages with one hand, the other was placed under Woodrow's chin to keep his head steady; something Sweet might have done. And yet the poet was not used to the thumb that caressed his cheek, down to his jawbone, his eyelids drooping and a dizzy grin coming over his face at the almost hypnotic relaxation of the touch. And when his bandages were all removed and his ears sprang up, Tom massaged them at their base to ease the soreness where they had been forced downward. When he did have to press them down again to redress the wounds, he stroked them from their base to their tips as he laid them gently back, murmuring, "There, there, darling. I know you don't like this."

In other words, when Woodrow awoke to be cared for, it was hard to believe he was not still in a dream.

That evening, room service delivered them two big bowls of vegetable stew and plenty of bread and carrot juice. Woodrow was well enough to sit at the table in the suite with Phantom; though he was not a vegetarian himself, the ghost had wanted to get the same thing as his “patient”. After dinner, said patient had his bandages changed again, washed up a bit, and promptly fell back asleep.

After some time, the warden felt the by-now familiar touch on his cheek that meant he was being awakened. He opened his eyes drowsily. “Mmm?”

“Tesoro,” said Phantom, “it is growing dark outside, and… I should not assume that you want to spend the night in my lodgings. I wanted to ask if you preferred me to take you to your home, and have me check on you in the morning.”

Woodrow’s eyes widened, and he pushed himself up into a sitting position. Looking past the opened curtains of the bed to the window, he could indeed see well enough without his glasses that dusk was settling in, and that Jinx, who still hovered loyally, was getting harder to distinguish against the coming night. He then flopped back down onto his side, saying nothing.

“Of course, you can stay here if you want to,” said Phantom. “I would much prefer to keep an eye on you. But only, of course, if that is what you desire.”

“Tom,” he said softly, “I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to leave you… I don’t want you to leave me.”

“Then you shan’t, and I shan’t,” said the ghost, as a smile of relief crossed his face. “As long as you’re sure you are comfortable.”

“I am, but- where will you sleep? The sofa is too small for you. Please move me back to it, and you can have the bed-”

“Tristan, you fool,” said Phantom, his face suddenly hurt. “Are you really going to be so stubborn? We have already passed a night in each other’s arms.” He leaned forward, taking the poet’s paw in both of his own, holding it one and stroking its top with the other. “Will you not allow me to hold you again, tonight? To let my warmth sink into your aching muscles and your tired bones? Can you look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t want such a thing?!”

The warden blinked at him, wide-eyed, and reached up with his other paw out of habit, to adjust glasses that weren’t there. “Of course I want it,” he breathed. “I have wanted nothing more, in my entire life. Only… is it proper?”

“Is it PROPER!” cried the other in astonishment. “Tristan! Whatever do you mean?”

“It’s only- Tom- it’s only that I am the warden here, and you are our planet’s honored guest, and perhaps we ought-”

It was then that a blur of white and red and blue overtook him, as Phantom dove onto the bed, rolling over Woodrow and turning, in one smooth motion scooping him into his arms and placing his thin body, still swallowed in its absurd robe, on top of his own large form.

“Tristan Woodrow,” he said into the startled and blushing face of the Rabbid lying on top of him, “you are indeed the warden here, and you decide what is proper for yourself.”

“O-of course,” said the poet, feeling incredibly warm. He buried his face in the neck of the other, who had long since removed his rumpled cravat. Phantom turned his face, and kissed him on the cheek. And so they lay for some time, holding each other tight.

—

It was long since they had washed up for bed; Phantom had gotten an extra toothbrush and toiletries from the front desk, and changed into a robe of his own (this one red) before lying down. And now, with the curtains drawn, they had lain for hours - each of them in a deep and restful sleep, Phantom holding Woodrow close. Just as promised, the warmth of his body was therapy on the warden’s injured form.

Woodrow felt the familiar touch on his face, and then a gentle jostle of his shoulders, and thought it must be morning. He opened his eyes, but could see no light beyond the cracks of the bed-curtains. In fact, it was still pitch black, and he could see nothing at all.

“Tom?” he murmured through a yawn. “What time is it?”

“It is very early in the morning,” he said. “Three o’clock. But I have business, and I wanted to let you know. I do not wish to leave you, but- will you be alright here for an hour or so? Probably less.”

“You are going to sing,” said Woodrow sleepily, but matter-of-factly.

He could not see his companion’s expression in the dark, but there was something about the way the bed shifted, and in the silence that followed, he could imagine the shock on his face- and the warden smiled to himself. “However did you know such a thing?” asked Phantom.

“As I said this morning, I heard you last night. It gave me peace in my injured sleep. Do not think I have forgotten, or believed that it was a dream. You have been sneaking out at night, to sing- for what purpose you keep it from me, and everyone else, I cannot fathom. But now I know I am right.”

Woodrow heard a sigh in the darkness. “You are a clever one, my dear. Well, yes… since I arrived here, I have been stealing off to the woods in the wee hours of each morning. To practice a bit.”

“Surely that isn’t good for you, Tom? You ought to let your voice rest, if you are to heal…”

“Then how am I to know that it is healing?” said the other with a chuckle, stroking the warden’s cheek in the dark. “It is only a little, each night, to measure if there is any improvement day by day. I go far into the woods, in the middle of the night, so that no one may hear me. It seems not even your friend the Dryad knows. No one but the owls and crickets do, I imagine.”

“Oh, Tom! Take me with you, tonight.”

“But Tristan…” he said, although his voice did not seem to protest too much. “You ought to rest. I can’t be dragging you out into the forest in the cold of the night-”

“I shall be fine, Tom. This planet is my home and my ward, and there is no part of its natural splendor which is not a comfort to me. It shall be good to get out of this room.”

And so, before long, the now properly-dressed Phantom held the poet in his arms just as he had almost a day ago; only this time he was conscious, and wearing an oversized black coat that belonged to the singer himself. It gave a somewhat similar appearance to his own favored garb; but even more comically large, and far less shabby. Jinx zoomed along behind them as the ghost swept skillfully through the trees.

After a good while, when they were far, far away from town - far even from Sweetlopek’s house, or Dryad’s nest - they came to a little clearing. Phantom slowed to a stop here, and set Woodrow down gently against a large tree, in a hollow formed by its massive roots. He settled back, clasped his hands, crossed his legs, and looked up - smiling, polite. He tried to perk up his ears as much as he could, but pressed down as they were, this resulted in them sticking out diagonally just a bit more rigidly than before.

An expression crossed Phantom’s face that Woodrow did not often see - it was doubt; he was second-guessing himself. He seemed uncertain as he backed away from his companion, into the starlight of the clearing. Then he closed his eyes, and cleared his throat.

And he raised his arms and sang.

A wordless song; starting low, building high; a swing of the scale, dramatic leaps and fantastical flourishes of the voice, loud and clear and sublime, for what felt to Woodrow like an eternity of beauty-

But in reality it was not more than twenty seconds or so before the first choke; a crack of the voice that shattered a richly sustained note. And then, an attempt at a scale that was shot dead in its tracks; a gag, a gasp. The next notes were marred by scratches and rasps, and-

“I’m- sorry,” said Phantom, between coughs, as he turned back to the other. “That is all I can do, for tonight.”

He found the other sniffling, with tears streaming down from behind his glasses.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he said, approaching the tree trunk and settling his body down next to Woodrow’s. “It really is horrid, isn’t it? I have done your already-aching head a great injustice.”

“No,” whispered the warden. “It was… it was so beautiful, Tom, while it lasted. That is why I am crying.”

“Oh, please,” said the other, his voice still rough. “There is no need to flatter me. I know the truth.”

“No, Tom, you don’t,” said Woodrow. “Don’t you understand? To hear you sing in person, even if for less than a minute… it is a dream come true. A dream I have held for a long, long time. Even if I never met you when your voice was whole, it matters not to me, for I have still heard you. What is beautiful once, maintains a certain beauty forever. The crumbled ruins of a castle still bear its pride and dignity. A flower that wilts still retains its color, and from its crumbled shape we can imagine what once was. Perhaps it is all the more lovely for its fragility. And the fact that this beauty was entrusted to me alone… why, I scarcely know what I have done to deserve it.”

Phantom’s own blue eyes wide and glistening. For what seemed like the hundredth time that day, he put his paw on Woodrow’s cheek. “Tristan,” he said, scarcely more than a breath, “you deserve all I can give you, and more. Do you- do you know, this morning - what seems so long ago now - when I saw you, in your dear friend’s arms, your head covered in blood- for a split-second, I thought the worst, and for a moment my world ended. All was dark and empty before me, and all around me, until I heard you speak again, until I saw you smile up at me.”

Woodrow felt himself starting to cry even more. He didn’t know what to say. “Tom…”

“And the worst part? The worst part is that last night I came out here to practice, after the winds died down, not terribly far from where you lay injured, and I had no idea. You were right that you heard me, barely conscious though you were. And yet I did not know you were there. I did not find you…”

“It’s alright,” the warden sniffed. “You… couldn’t have known.”

“But Tristan, you wonderful creature, listen!” continued the Phantom, “There ARE things that I know, that I know now, and that I knew yesterday. I was so terrified that I had lost you, before I could somehow convince you to grace the world with your poems once more. And I was haunted, moreover, by regret. By the words I should have spoken last night, if not before - if not when you consoled me in the cradle of the moon. Those words that have torn at my mind and my heart in ceaseless torment for days. Oh, Tristan, my sweet, I love you, I love you. Everything I am, and everything I will be, that I want to be, is consumed by this feeling. I adore you, with every part of my being.” He kissed his left paw, no longer meeting his eyes.

The warden was stunned, his mouth slightly agape, filled with a longing which he could not describe, even if he tried. “Tom…” he said, “of course I love you too. But why does it feel so empty to say? The way I feel for you… even if I were to try and write, in this moment, all the poetry in the world could give but the palest shade of my true affections. Words will never suffice.”

“Then speak to me without words,” said the other. And this time, it was no fantasy; their lips met each other’s, and then lips met neck, and shoulders, and ears, and chest, as coats and vests were unbuttoned, in the hollow of the tree-roots, in the Spellbound Woods, under a cloud, under the stars.

#mario + rabbids #mario plus rabbids #woodrow #ts woodrow #the phantom #phandrow

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mrdrhenwardhykle · 7 months

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Anyways here's my short Ted Talk to why Chipper from Chipper and Sons to FNAF World is wasted potential for a really good antagonist

Just in CASLC he's shown to be unhinged, despite holding the assumption of being a good person. He's one of those protagonist characters that is assumed good, but will push that definition as the audience realizes how screwed up said person is

He's shown to be an unpredictable craftsman in both appearances-making robots and machines that turn or are made for evil doings

He ate his wife

He's self aware that he's a character-and he's also aware of Scott and FNAF as a series

It mentions at some point that he's potentially an imposter

He's projecting his company on his son as a perpetual cycle, even to the point of giving him nightly suitors that mostly don't work

He ate his wife

His murder count is unknown

He had more than one son apparently and Tyke didn't know

He ate his wife and in FNAF world he threatens to eat the player's bones????

He goes from good to bad to good again within the flip of a hat-he's a loose cannon

Unexplained giant mecha beaver????

His theme song plays after you kill Scott in the game-just after he tells you that you could have killed another boss

MANIAC EMOTIONALLY UNSTABLE CANNIBAL HILLBILLY WITH AN AXE HELLO????

#chipper and sons #do you all remember when SL was slowly being spelled out #and at this point Scott said he was done ish with FNAF #and it looked like it was spelling out 'Chipper and Sons'????#That was a big troll and El Chip does nothing #Scott's a chronic liar for some reason when it comes to FNAF ending if you didn't know #I get that things come up and people change their minds but he does this way too often #I also knew his retirement wouldn't last sorry #Chipper needs a better chance #chipper and sons lumber company

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minnesotamedic186 · 2 years

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I just wanted to say I came up with the name "Chipper" for Sweetlopek's beaver that lives on his head. I was wondering if you liked that or if you had a name of your own :D

I was actually thinking of naming the beaver Jackie('cause you know, lumberjack-) Always fun to hear new ideas though ^v^

#mario + rabbids #mario + rabbids sparks of hope

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ghosttbeef · 1 year

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ok so MAJORAS MASK! I have the 3DS version, and I started it back when i was in highschool, but I didnt make it far (barely defeated the woodfall temple iirc). I just defeated the Great Bay temple and am starting Ikana Canyon, but here's... a rough summary of the journey so far under the cut!

deku link my beloved.......... he is just so small and cute. and haunting but yknow. I love the sound it makes when he walks

i am having a much easier time with shooting this time around- I remember hating the motion control aiming the first I played this, and it's definitely ROUGH on the 3DS, but it comes so much easier now that i've played hours and hours of splatoon lmaooo

i must have completely skipped the deku shrine the first time, or maybe blocked it out. hall of fucking misery. i had to redo this like 8 times

GORON TIME... i stopped somewhere after getting to this area the first time. The gorons are fun i love them.... rolling around also extremely fun.

also I love the giant terrifying masked smithy guy Gabora. I remember very distinctly laughing when i first got there and he flails at you grumbling indistinctly while the chipper shop music plays

this temple kicked my ass bc i thought i was just really really bad at navigation and remembering where things are (something very true about me, it's good i cant drive) but Really it was just because there was a trigger panel on the wall I didn't notice. teehee

i did the goron races several times.... i won it on the last day and then realized i'd need to do it on the first day to be able to upgrade the sword, so i reset time and did it again for the sword upgrade. but then.... baby goron and elder goron still said the same things so i thought I had to like... win again. i did not that did not change anything. I probably did this godforsaken race like 30 or 40 times.

I love elder goron by the way LMAO

also? kinda fucked up that they're expecting me to become their next leader and I can't explain anything. I'm literally just some kid, their beloved hero is dead, and as far as i know their beloved Darmani is just going to disappear again. Like- at least with the Deku, i know there is someone who mentions their son going missing and missing him, but at least it wasn't like... a community figure people looked up to who was missed.

I just happened to make it to the Romani Ranch too late to hear Romani's explanation of the Alien Ghost Things so i stuck around, and BOY HOWDY WAS IT AN EXPERIENCE when they just. started fucking descending.

anyway I helped them and it's horsey time

I also did some stuff around town- I have the Keaton Mask (but i haven't finished this questline) and Kabara's Mask. I love that that one just, completely erases and make's Kabara's face just... a fucked up polyp on your head. 10/10

great bay temple time.............................................

Gerudo my beloved :) (even if i had to restart the pirate temple bc of Time)

Mikau is a dweeb i love him. that said, just like with Darmani- FEELS WEIRD and bad that Nobody Knows It's Really Me and that he's dead and gone, and will just vanish. It's really tragic! Especially after getting Lulu's voice back! Fucked up!

fuck the beaver game FUCK the beaver game. I redid phase one like five times and then they said. you have to do it again but harder

Zora link's water movements are really janky- it feels like regular swimming, zora swimming, and charged swimming all work COMPLETELY different but it's not always clear when you're doing which- and the camera is very uncooperative as well, which was felt much moreso in the temple.

THAT ALL SAID I ADORED THIS TEMPLE. Def my fav so far- I know water temples are infamous for being hell on earth but I had fun with this one, and I liked the design of it a lot, and the minibosses were great- especially Wart! Looking around in confusion only to look up and make Eye Contact with a giant horrifying mass of little orbs. EXCELLENT

THAT ALL SAID PART 2. fuck Gyorg. I had to reset time in my first fight with him because the second phase took so long- and even then it still took like...an entire day of slowed-time. Having to wait until he gets close to mines only for him to more often than not only spit out piranhas was infuriating. I understand that a lot of the things I've complained about here are pretty 3DS specific port things, which SUCKS

anyway. ikana canyon time :) i forgot to say, but I got the Garo mask already doing the horse race to kill time for the Romani Ranch events. (Which i also had to try several times... minigames in this want me dead)

paging @neoanimus specifically bc i know you've been enjoying these updates on twitter

#fun fact my ceiling started leaking water whilei was typing this teehee #ghostt is gaming

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starsandspark · 2 years

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– Writing ab my FNaF SB AU! ,i really like writing–

💗–ᴬ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰʳᵉᵉ

🎉–index/summary of the writing ;

DJ, Betty and Chipper are my favorite polyamorous couple, in fact, the only one in this AU!-, so I thought it would be exciting to write something about those three lovers, something like... How they met!

–“ Oh... I think I understand, so, is it as if they were one person? Do you love them as one?"

Moon asked as he joined his hands and interlaced his fingers, he had known the Funkies for months, so the autistic spectrum of him didn't feel uncomfortable talking to them directly, they were trustworthy.

Betty giggled, he was a little wrong, so she got ready to answer.

– “Oh no no, certainly it is a good saying but no, for my heart they are two separate people, but I love them without preferences”

–“Polyamory used to have preferences, which does not happen with us”

Chipper added as he went back to his soda, having just come back from the vending machine to sit down with DJ and Betty. The three of them were possibly huddled together all the time, it was normal to see the beaver and the clown on top of the tallest one, perhaps in his arms or sitting on his legs.

–“ Before? Has it existed for a long time? Has it also been in humans?”

He received a settlement from all three. Moon certainly didn't know that, he thought polyamory was a mutant thing, but the fact that it happened in humans was also interesting.

– “Certainly yes! Thousands of years ago when humans were not as civilized as now, men used to have several girls, but those girls did not love each other and only wanted the boy, this being a preference. That type of poly relationship continues to occur in some human tribes and religions, also in animals!”

Said DJ, he had heard that a long time ago when they were just beginning their relationship.

– “ Currently polyamory is much more romanticized, it continues to occur in humans as well.

Everyone loves each other equally without leaving anyone behind, although there are also people who hate or are disgusted by polyamory, but that is because they see it in a sexual way thinking that we are an excuse for 0rgi3s... Uhg I hate that they think that, especially because polyamorous people have and know more about affective and romantic responsibility”

Chipper hated that kind of comments and didn't try to hide it, he had already heard them several times from the staff, but he was capable of defending himself and his two lovers against any nonsense coming from anyone's mouth.

– "That has become very clear to me, they are capable of dividing everything equally and loving each other in a way that it would be difficult for someone with few brain cells to understand, that is a lot of affective responsibility"

Moon seemed impressed, the theme was beautiful and attractive, the relationship of those three was so tender that it was impossible to see them in any bad way.

But, he still had a doubt, how did they meet? How did they realize that the three of them wanted to be together? It didn't take long for him to ask, but of course he wanted to know everything, so the three Funkies quickly looked at each other, how they met and the beginning of their love affair was one of their favorite stories to tell after the story of how Chipper got into a fight with lucifer on a mountain over there in Oaxaca-

They snuggled together once more, practically holding each other as they sank back into memories of almost twelve years ago.

–“ Can I start?~”

Betty asked, oh wow, even to tell a story they divided, although it made sense, it was a story that the three of them knew and it was important to them.

– "I want to tell the part where it gets dramatic, as well as in the Rosa de Guadalupe mujahAh"

Chipper responded as he clasped the empty can in his hands.

– “I want to tell the ending, I like the endings”

DJ finally made the decision, now Betty was ready to start, she loved every memory she kept with the two of them even as she loved them herself.

Betty's Pov; – It all starts twelve or eleven years ago, in Fazbear's laboratories!

I was created for the candy store, so I practically had pastry classes every morning and went out to lunch in the afternoon! All around me were sweets, ice cream and cookies until I met them. Certainly our first impression of each other was very funny.

I had come for lunch, I remember that the food that day was more than unpleasant, soft beans with onions, I don't know who in their right mind would eat that.

DJ is the type of person who doesn't mind complaining or laughing at anything, so he quickly slid the plate across the table and started talking.

– "I prefer to eat raw eggs with mayonnaise before eating this"

–“ Without a doubt, I would do it too! , Even with chamoy, geez, you can tell they don't want food, I would cook you something a thousand times better even though no one will pay me"

I don't know, Chipper had simply come close to agreeing with him while he took his own plate and someone else's plate and looked at them with the most comical displeasure you can imagine!. I couldn't hold it and I laughed in the distance, I also got up to deliver the plate to the table where they were and continued talking.

– “This thing is not worth a piece of candy! ,not even a human is able to eat it ,take it ,it would be great if you throw it away!”

Chipper took my set too and threw it in a trash can, from there we talked about food and laughed until our supervisors told us that apparently they gave us the wrong thing and brought us something more passable, it was funny.

From there we started sitting together every day, we talked about anything, we even realized that we were from the same restaurant and our attractions were close! We became very good friends.

We used to even meet up at night, DJ would go to night parties with you! Then he would pick us up from there, Chipper and I had the rooms in the same block, so he would just open from the outside and we would sit together until dawn, so many nice and exciting things we did those nights and afternoons, that I didn't realize that he had begun to love them in a different way.

The butterflies began to appear a few weeks before our last day in the laboratory, I needed them two more than anything, they were my only friends after all.

Until it broke, everything broke-

We received news that could be light for everyone, but not for us, we had planned so many things together. They told us that Chipper went to other superior laboratories in Mexico City, since the knowledge he had there in Texas was not enough for what was needed in the restaurant, it was just less than basic culture and gastronomy, so he had to go directly to live in CDMX and visit other states to truly understand and become familiar with the subject.

Which would cost him four years. Time was really what made us cry on the way to the Pizzaplex, without Chipper it wasn't the same, nothing was the same between us. We have always needed each other, there are no preferences or comfort if one is missing, in fact, we expect it.

And we did that for all those four years. –

Chipper's Pov; – In all that time they seemed to form no real bond with any mutants or mall workers, they didn't go to any parties or meetings with the Glamrocks.

The times they saw each other were only to end up crying for me, and I did the same every night knowing that I might never see them again.

As if! I did not know where c⁴r4jos was or how long I was going to be there, the doctors spoke to me in a language that I had to learn on my own since I did not understand anything. They gave me anesthesia from the first trip so that I would not see the outside world and I never, never knew where I was standing, although I knew geography thanks to classes, I never really knew what the outside world was, that time in Oaxaca it was a trip exclusive and limited, but that's another story, let me continue with the drama carlA-.

The classes used to be heavy, you know, it was all so that Fazbear wouldn't be labeled xenophobic or stereotyped. Which I understood, it's certainly not good to believe that Spanish-speakers are only indigenous or something like that.

I made a few friends, but nothing could ever compare to the excitement I felt with Betty and DJ, so the day I woke up in a cab on the way to the Pizzaplex was one of the happiest of my life.

I remember arriving still dizzy from the anesthesia, but when I saw them waiting for me almost crying at the entrance, all sleep took away from me! From one moment to the next we are on the ground laughing and crying with happiness, we were together again and no one was going to separate us anymore.

Those days the Pizzaplex was closed while I settled into my new place and the merchandise was brought in. But my mind was always on them, Betty and DJ, just thinking about Betty and DJ.

In all my time away I missed them, I did not recognize the feeling of love that I had for them; romantic love. Ofc, until the butterflies came back.

My feelings felt very different being close to them, what's more, the three of us were going through the same thing without realizing it.

But Richie did notice, he was a night worker on the fazcade before Vannessa arrived, he usually returns around Christmas time to celebrate with his favorite company!

That day we were together on the DJ stage, doing our usual thing, until Richie came along.

I remember very well when he said that we looked adorable together, that we were a beautiful couple, that the love we had between the three of us was unique. None of the three of us said anything, we just looked at each other embarrassed and having the world's worst butterfly crisis, the fact that he mentioned the feeling of love...

IT LEFT ME THINKING THE REST OF THE NIGHT! , everything he said had awakened something in me, something that perhaps had been asleep due to the anesthesia of years. Haha! It was difficult to understand, how were the three of us going to be together?; So we ended up in her office the next day talking about how we felt, only to realize that it really was love, polyamory!

Richie knew a lot about the lgbtq+ community, in fact, thanks to him I was able to solve my doubts about my identity, im' just a transboy!.

The following nights together were different, the hugs were different, the kisses were something new that we began to give to each other, it was new, beautiful, which ended up calming down the confusion of how we saw each other, as if we had finally made a truce with annoying butterflies.

We officially became a couple when we felt we had the ability to shout to the entire Pizzaplex how much we loved each other, even though we're not good at socializing, the rest of the mutants gladly approved, especially the night marchers, although I remember you guys They didn't go to that meeting! –

DJ's pov; – Over time everything could only get better, we feel more confident since Chipper's transition, love was strengthened when we realized that we would be together no matter what or who got in the way!

And then, uhmm, then a little Sol and his boyfriend Luna came to the fazcade and we met, we hit it off, then one day Sunny went with Dee to see the confetti cannons and Moon stayed with us talking about what polyamory is and then we tell our story together... End! –

– “I loved that end my dear lover, just perfect-”

Chipper seemed to want to burst out laughing, DJ wasn't good at endings or telling stories, but he was cute and funny.

– “I know, they tell me the best improvising~”

–“ Silly-, come here, this time you are not saved from the kisses!

Betty ended up throwing herself into her arms and cupping her cheeks to leave kisses everywhere, even Chipper ended up joining and receiving some, they were very sweet.

–“ Shall we go Moonieboo? It's late and then you have to go do the security marches!”

Sunny had gotten to hug Moon slowly, then walk away with him to the elevators and wave goodbye to the Funkies, Moon wanted to spend time with his Sunny too, he was his pretty boy in the whole mall, ¡oh the Pizzaplex!, that place was full of love and memories.

#fnaf au #fnaf sb au #security breach #fnaf writing #writing #el chip fnaf #glamrock baby #dj music man #moon fnaf #sunnydrop fnaf #sundrop fnaf #daycareattendants #sundropxmoondrop #fnaf sun and moon

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togachipblog · 7 months

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Fire Prevention and Chips

Major fires are once again in the news. It seems that this is an annual occurrence, especially in the Western portion of the United States. Historically, many potato chip factories have had fires from the hot oil.

October is fire safety month and a billboard in Schenectady, NY displayed the following fire prevention safety tips: “Install Smoke Detectors. Test Monthly,” “Get your Furnace Checked” and “Have a Fire Escape Plan. Get Out & Stay Out.”Billboards spread fire safety message.

Most US residents grew up with the iconic mascot for fire protection, Smokey the Bear. Remember the trivia question "What is Smokey the Bear's middle name?" Answer: "the." See the photo of me with Smokey.

Our neighbors North of the Border have their own history regarding fire protection mascots and one of them had a link to the potato chip industry. An article in the September 1964 edition of Potato Chipper explains how Canada held a contest to come up with its own mascot for fire protection and that one of the entries, "Bucky the Beaver, was submitted by Omer Longo, an Old Dutch Potato Chip Company plant superintendent.

Reading the article about the Bucky the Beaver submission for the Canadian fire protection mascot got me to wondering whether it was the successful submission. What I found is that there is no universal Canadian fire protection mascot. While a number of the provinces and territories in Canada use Smokey the Bear as their mascot, and many use Sparky the Dog, there were others that had their own mascot. Alberta’s wildfire and forest management mascot is Bertie Beaver, a mascot drawn and provided to what was then the Alberta Forest Service, by Walt Disney in 1958. Most of the messages have been focussed on wildfire prevention. Read about the history of Bertie: https://pubs.cif-ifc.org/doi/pdfplus/10.5558/tfc2014-028. Alberta also owns the rights to Nero and Ashcan: http://www.firecomm.gov.mb.ca/safety_nero.html

Happy Birthdays 2019 was a milestone birthday for both Smokey (75) and Bertie (60). Read about Bertie in the Forest History Association of Alberta newsletter – Bertie Beaver turns 60, at Page 18 http://albertaforesthistory.ca/docs/Newsletters/FHAA-Newsletter-Issue18-Mar2019.pdf Read about Smokey's birthday. https://www.smokeybear75th.org/

Do you know what Smokey the Bear's original name was?

Answer: Hotfoot Teddy was the name given to a small bear cub that was found burned and clinging to the top of a tree at a forest fire in New Mexico's Capitan Mountains in 1950. The bear cub was rescued by firefighters, and his survival story had touched people’s hearts. He was donated to the National Zoo in Washington, D.C. with an important job to do. Hotfoot Teddy became the mascot and messenger for the Department of Natural Resources Fire Prevention Program. He was later renamed to Smokey Bear. Today, Smokey Bear is widely recognized as the symbol for forest fire prevention and is credited with significantly reducing the number of forest fires each year. Thanks to Bruce Mayer at the Forest History Association of Alberta, Canada, and Jeff Ervin, Fire Prevention Officer for the Province of Manitoba, Canada for their assistance in research for this blog post.

Enjoy Sammy Davis, Jr. sing "That Old Black Magic," in which he adlibs at 2:15 "You Gotta Put Out the Fire!"

youtube

The Toga Chip Guy

#Youtube

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mediamixs · 11 months

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Five Nights at Freddy's: a success that no one imagined

Five Nights at Freddy's is a video game series and media franchise created by Scott Cawthon. The first video game of the same name was released in 2014. The idea for Five Nights at Freddy's stemmed from negative reaction to Scott Cawthon's previous game, the family-friendly Chipper & Sons Lumber Co. Players said that the main character (a young beaver) looked like "a scary animatronic animal", and reviewer Jim Sterling called the game "unintentionally terrifying". Initially discouraged by the criticism, Cawthon eventually used the feedback to make something intentionally scarier. The game's plot revolves around a security guard working at a pizza restaurant called Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. The player must survive five nights while being hunted by animatronics that have malfunctioned and become homicidal. The animatronics are Freddy Fazbear, Bonnie the Bunny, Chica the Chicken, and Foxy the Pirate Fox. The game has several sequels, each with a different setting and gameplay mechanics. In Five Nights at Freddy's 4, the gameplay occurs in a bedroom setting, and instead of being a nighttime security guard, the player takes the role of a small child who experiences nightmarish visions of the animatronics due to fearing their real-life counterparts. The player also no longer has access to a camera system. The player has four areas in the bedroom to monitor: two hallway doors on both sides of the room, the closet directly in front of them, and the bed behind them. The game has a good ending that is reached by completing secret minigames in which animatronic characters bring a cake to what seems to be a sorrowful child's soul. After completing the secret minigames, the souls of the children are freed. The franchise has also been adapted into a movie, which follows the story of a night-shift security guard working at an abandoned themed restaurant called Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria who begins to uncover its dark secrets while being hunted by animatronics.

Despite receiving negative reviews from critics, Five Nights at Freddy's has been successful due to several factors:

Established fanbase: The popular horror game series has been highly anticipated by fans for nearly a decade and has lived up to their expectations.

Box office success: The movie has been a big hit with audiences, grossing $39.4 million on its opening day and projected to earn $78 million on its opening weekend, which would make it one of the biggest earners for an October opening weekend in box office history.

Positive audience reception: Despite the low Rotten Tomatoes score, Five Nights at Freddy's is sitting at a much higher audience score of 89%, suggesting most filmgoers have been enjoying their time with the film.

Day-and-date release: The movie was released on Peacock the same day that it premiered in theaters, which may have contributed to its success.

Passionate creator: The franchise is the passion project of Scott Cawthon, who made his way into the world of gaming by creating games like The Desolate Hope and Pilgrim’s Progress. These are Christian-focused games that revolve around some deeper narratives.

In conclusion, despite receiving negative reviews, Five Nights at Freddy's has been successful due to its established fanbase, box office success, positive audience reception, day-and-date release, and passionate creator.

#horror #halloween #halloween season #video games #movies

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thon717-fps · 11 months

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The Five nights at Freddy's Franchise

Five nights are Freddy's (FNAF) is a horror game made by Scott cawthon. made after he made a failed game of a beaver called chipper, he made a horror game based on 4 animatronic characters, a bear called Freddy, a duck called Chica, a fox called foxy and a bunny called bonnie. you are a worker at a pizza place where you watch over the 4 animatronics who try and kill you. there is lots of arguments about the lore of this game. it is left to theorists to try to find out the many mysteries about this game. the youtuber matpat is normally seen as the main person when people talk about the lore

youtube

here is a link to the first game, being the most simple it is fairly easy to win.

#indie games #games #pc games #steam games #video games #Youtube

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teary-sheep · 4 months

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What would y'all think if I made an au of chipper and Sons Lumber co

#chipper and sons lumber co #chipper and sons lumber co au #chipper and sons lumber co fanart #chipper the beaver

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shopfecon · 2 years

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Variety of Landscaping, Resource Recovery Equipment and Tools

These days, reputable suppliers and businesses offer various vegetation management and resource recovery equipment, such as excavators, bulkheads, mulcher attachments, Viking knives and more. They include technology, creativity, operational efficiency, and safety. We will learn about some of the most significant tools and equipment in this section. Let's get going.

30 Ton Excavator

The excavator is listed first on the list. In general, major projects requiring the digging or transportation of soil, rocks, sand, gravel, or even debris benefit greatly from the use of 30-ton excavators. These excavators may be fitted with a hydraulic hammer attachment for use in demolition projects.

Mulcher and Components

Mulchers slice, trim or crush plants into small pieces that are frequently left on the site as mulch. For example, forestry mulcher teeth are the replacement worn components for forestry mulchers. Such mulcher teeth are always produced with embedded carbide to increase wear resistance. And because of their high hardness, they make quick contact with the working surface. Mulcher teeth come in a variety of styles, including chipper-style and beaver-style teeth. Replacement discs are among the other components. There are different attachment tools available as well.

Grinding disc

Grinding discs are appropriate for metal and stone applications in various machine sizes. The primary application for such discs is material removal. However, they may be used for finishing and preparing stone and metal surfaces.

Bio hydraulic fluid

In ecologically sensitive places, bio hydraulic oil or fluid is employed in mobile equipment. In the case of a leak, these oils are less hazardous than petroleum-based fluids.

We, Shop Fecon, offer a wide range of forestry tools, parts, and supplies, including bulkhead plates, attachments for skid steer and mulcher, and more. We build long-term client connections by offering high-quality products and exceptional service. By technology, innovation, operating efficiency, safety, and fully engaging the skills of our workers, we are leading to be the preeminent leader in the development and production of vegetation management and natural resource recovery equipment. Contact us to find out more.

For more details, visit the website: https://shop.fecon.com/

View original source here -https://ext6181399.livejournal.com/823.html

#Viking knives #30-ton excavator #grinding disc #bulkhead plate #bio hydraulic fluid

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samlssms · 2 years

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Odd Ball Squad chibi pin designs! Here they are with a bit of info about each member of my little fictional band

The asshole who can never take a hint; nobody really likes him, he pesters everyone, but he never really leaves for good. Invites himself everywhere and is extremely cocky and flirts with EVERY FEMALE HE SEES. He is straight as fuck. (But is an ally)

Romp's shy girlfriend, she's very soft, and sweet! She tries to keep everybody out of dangerous situations, and often gets anxious over small dangers (maybe even a small bee) She is bisexual.

The angry and sarcastic drummer. Ask him anything and you'll almost always get a sarcastic or angry response. He almost always speaks sarcasm. Nobody knows what his problem is. Also plays drums. He is gay but still in the closet.

A soft beaver boy who has a country accent and plays acoustic guitar. He is also bisexual. Sometimes has a jinkies moment when he loses his glasses though.

Very energetic and LOUD. She's a lesbian and a very affectionate lover, though she shows her affection through quality time, and a bit of horseplay (such as wrestling). She plays electric guitar.

A comedian flamingo who never lands a punchline. When he actually gets someone to laugh, he almost cries of happiness. He's very unfunny. So unfunny, he carries around a little button to press that plays a sound effect of laughter to make things less awkward. (It does not help). Sexuality not yet decided.

A blind mouse who just roams around and vibes to the music that the band plays. He is also mute. He communicates via tapping patterns. It's a unique way to communicate, but the gang has learned how. Sexuality undecided.

A very shy guy who plays piano. He uses he / they pronouns. They blush easily when their piano playing is complimented (which is often, he is quite good, and often gets song requests). Sexuality not yet decided.

Chipper (left) very cocky and snarky, often makes smartass remarks to his sibling (Skit) and other band members to screw with them. These remarks often give Skit anxiety. Chipper is asexual homoromantic.

Skit (right) often very anxious due to their brothers remarks. Skit uses they / them pronouns, while their brother uses he / him. It's a bit complicated, since they're both attached to the same body. They're asexual panromantic.

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pixies-and-poets · 2 years

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Of Verses and Curses: Chapter Two

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

Chapter One

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

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

Chapter Two - Best of Luck

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So little a word for so great a power!

O villain that threatens me hour by hour!

O knave, O menace that waits at my side!

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

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

“O luck,” he continued,

“Thou writest my name in the cruelest of plots,

Thou weavest my fate into tangles and knots!

My most thoughtful plans reduced to insanity;

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#mario + rabbids #mario plus rabbids #mario rpgs #fanfic #woodrow #ts woodrow #the phantom #rabbid dryad #sweetlopek #phandrow

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