#if you pick a new name would your system window change

[wovenstarlight]

other minorly interesting things about riette and noah: despite every other character I can remember having their last name show up in yoojin's status window checks, riette and noah's status windows (c57 and c85 respectively) simply show their first names, no Luire added onto the end. is it a fake name... noah seems to use it in his identity as ark guild leader, so maybe not?? but then why wouldn't it show up there...

[hongcherry]

you're my tomorrow | j.ww

At first, you didn't think anything of it. Jeon Wonwoo was just a customer. However, his daily visits to your bookstore café started to become the highlight of your days. The little conversations here and there made you happy. It's because of him that you always look forward to tomorrow.

☕️ Pairing: customer!Wonwoo x cafeOwner!Reader

☕️ Rating/Genres/AUs: PG; Fluff with a sprinkle of angst, slice of life; Strangers to lovers, cafe au, non!idol au

☕️ Warnings: Reader is smaller than Wonu, ultra soft boi and supportive wonu *swoons*... can't think of anything else but ofc lmk otherwise

☕️ Word Count: 5k

☕️ Author's Note: Thank you to @justsomekpopstuff for giving me this plot idea! I def got carried away and wrote way more than I thought I would lol. I hope you enjoy it! Everyone thank JJ for the storyline ✨ Also, thank you Jess (@the-boy-meets-evil) for beta'ing and giving me amazing suggestions for some edits! 💗

Happy holidays to all (if you celebrate)! Stay safe and have a nice time 💖

seventeen masterlist | main masterlist

Monday

When the door chimes a little after eight at night, you know it’s him.

He strolls in, usual glasses perched on his nose and jacket layered with a few specks of snow. His hair isn’t styled, soft waves adorning his head. He looks like the average person who’s winding down from a long day at work. From the two and a half months you’ve known him, this is his usual state on Monday nights.

Wonwoo entered your cozy bookstore café nearly three months ago. His order rarely varies, and sometimes he orders a drink he could get anywhere else. Yet, for some reason, he always comes here.

And throughout those months, you’ve realized you always look forward to his presence.

“Busy evening?” he asks while stepping up to the counter.

You’re in the middle of packing a pastry for another customer and quickly hand off the bag to your coworker.

“More so than usual; it’s finals week,” you reply with a small smile.

Wonwoo glances around, nodding as he takes in the sight of many tables occupied by people with textbooks, laptops, and notes scattered around them.

“I don’t miss those days,” he chuckles.

“I don’t either,” you agree. “So, what can I get you today?”

Wonwoo peers up at the menu behind you. You wonder why he does so since he usually rotates between three drinks.

“A hot chocolate,” he replies.

“Oh?” You can’t hide your surprise.

He grins, tilting his head slightly. “Should I have ordered something else?”

“No!” you hastily say. “You can order whatever you want.”

He pulls out a bill that exceeds the cost of the order and slides it to your side of the counter.

“Just thought I’d try something new for the holidays,” he explains, then leaves to find a seat.

“Wait!” you call out, bill in your hand. “You paid too much!”

If Wonwoo can hear you, he pretends he doesn’t. He continues his journey and ends up in the corner next to a window by the bookshelves. He retrieves a book from his bag, opening it where his bookmark rests.

Your hand falls to the counter with a heavy sigh. You guess you’ll give him his change when you give him his order. Normally, you’d call customer’s names or numbers for pick-up. But Wonwoo is different.

Wonwoo’s one of the rare customers who gets his order hand-delivered.

After completing the transaction in the system and making his drink, you grab his change from the register and walk to his table.

“One hot chocolate,” you announce and set the cup down along with his change.

“I’ll take the drink,” he says and brings it closer, blatantly ignoring the cash next to it.

“Wonwoo,” you say.

“Yn,” he answers, eyes flickering up.

There’s a small smirk on his lips that makes your insides churn.

“You overpaid,” you simply state.

“So?”

You move his money closer. “So, take it back.”

Wonwoo slides the money back to you. “Consider it a tip.”

“You know we don’t take tips here,” you say, moving it again.

“You should. You all work hard.”

“People are already struggling as is. If they can find solace in a little place like this, that’s all that matters.”

Wonwoo rests his hands on top of yours, which is still on the money, and slides it back to you.

“Then consider it a holiday present. From me to you,” he smiles.

His hand feels warm on yours. Your eyes move down, but you wish you hadn’t.

His large hand nearly covers yours, making you feel small yet protected. You can tell from his build that he’s strong and fit. You wonder what it’d be like to get a hug from him.

“I—” you struggle to speak.

“It’d make me happy.”

You sigh, nodding hesitantly.

He slowly removes his hand. “Thank you.”

“N-No problem,” you say, gathering the change and pocketing it. “Enjoy your book and drink.”

“Thanks,” Wonwoo replies and picks up his book. He holds it up with one hand and uses the other to sip his hot chocolate.

You make your way back to the front, trying to ignore the lingering warmth on your hand and the feeling in your chest.

Tuesday

Wonwoo shows up at the same time but orders one of his usual drinks. It's a different book than yesterday and judging by the similar cover, it's probably the next one in the series.

Ever since Wonwoo “gifted” you money, you’ve been trying to think of something to get him. It’s a little tough considering you don’t actually know him. You know he works a duty-heavy job and that he lives nearby. You know he has a lot of friends despite him being so quiet. Although you’ve never seen Wonwoo and his friends in the same room, they often come with him to the café in duos or trios.

You also learned he’s an avid cat and gaming lover.

You were surprised about the latter.

“Is he also a student?” one of your new coworkers, Sebastian, asks thirty minutes after Wonwoo’s arrival.

You wipe off the cup in your hand and set it on the counter, calling the number associated with it.

“No, he graduated already,” you reply and watch him practice making a drink.

“You seem to know him. Are you two friends?” he wonders.

You lean against the counter. “I don’t think so. He’s just a regular here, so I’ve learned a few things here and there.”

“Ah,” he replies and hands you the finished drink.

You take the drink and start taking a sip to see how well he did.

“You should ask him out.”

You choke on the drink, eyes wide as you reach for a napkin to wipe your chin.

“T-That wouldn’t be appropriate,” you stammer.

He laughs and takes the drink from you. “He’s not working here, and it’s not like you’re paying for him to come by. I don’t see how it’s inappropriate.”

You sigh, knowing he has a point. It’s not that you’re not attracted to Wonwoo, but it feels almost out of line. Plus, you’re not sure if you like Wonwoo, or just like the thought of him. You haven’t been in a relationship in years and would be lying to say you don’t miss having a partner.

You miss being able to share life memories with someone.

Wonwoo’s handsome. He’s kind, funny, caring, and fit—not that that’s a big deciding factor, but it sure is a bonus. Though, do you just want someone with those attributes, or do you want him?

“Just think about it,” Sebastian suggests and greets a new customer.

Your eyes drop to your feet in thought.

Part of you worries you’d make it awkward if he says no. It’s not like you are friends, so you won’t be ruining a friendship, but you enjoy seeing his face every day. His simple presence is one of the highlights of your days.

Plus, you don’t even know if he has a partner already!

You groan, putting a hand over your forehead as you try to organize your thoughts.

“Bad night?” a familiar voice asks from over the counter.

You drop your hand to see who it is.

Wonwoo stands with his empty cup and saucer, book tucked under his arm.

“Ah, uh, not really,” you reply sheepishly. You can’t disclose the true reason for your state; you’ve never been the best liar either.

“Well, I hope whatever is troubling you passes soon,” he says and holds out his dirty dishes.

“You could’ve left them on the table,” you say, grabbing them from his grasp. Your fingers touch his, and it’s difficult not to feel like a silly teenager in the movies, especially with your current predicament.

“I know,” he smiles, “but I wanted to tell you bye, and you seem busy.”

You set the items in the sink before addressing him again. “Still… But thank you anyway.”

“The drink was great, as always.”

“Thanks.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” he says, slowly stepping away from the counter.

You smile, nodding. “See you.”

His eyes linger on you before he turns and exits your café.

Wednesday

Wonwoo comes and goes as usual. It’s a busy night and you’re unable to speak to him much. It’s not the first time that has happened, so he doesn’t seem bothered by the lack of interaction. Regardless, you wish you could’ve spoken to him more.

That night was spent browsing the internet for the perfect gift for Wonwoo.

From gaming headsets to the top-rated books on Goodreads, you felt like you scoured every possible present for him. But none of them satisfied you.

It wasn’t until you came across bookmarks in your recommended section that you decided what to get him.

Maybe a bookmark was too boring, but you figured it was the safer option.

You spend over an hour searching for the right bookmark, but again, you come up short. They’re either too flowery, too plain, or too cliché.

In the end, you opt for making your own.

You find some DIY bookmark kits online and place an order. Trying not to second guess your decision, you call it a night—going to sleep as you brainstorm what to put on the item.

Thursday

“Do people actually read these books?” Wonwoo asks during your break, which you decided to spend with him.

Your gaze follows his to the wall lined with several bookshelves.

You chuckle, “Sometimes.”

“You said you got these books donated?” he asks, recalling an earlier conversation you had when he was a newcomer.

“Most of them,” you hum.

“Does your offer still stand?” he asks.

You turn to him with puzzlement.

He smiles. “You said I could take a book if I left one.”

“Oh,” you laugh out of embarrassment for forgetting. “Of course.”

Wonwoo nods and then stands up. He takes two steps to his right, then carefully plucks a book from a high shelf. He replaces the empty space with his own book.

Something about the simple act has your heartwarming. Or maybe it’s the way he’s so gentle with the books as if they’ll cry if moved too aggressively. You wonder if he’d touch you as carefully, if given the chance. Would you find comfort in his caresses the way you think the books would if they were personified?

Wonwoo sits in his seat again, perching his glasses higher after they slide down.

“Have you read this?” he asks, twisting the book so the cover faces you.

You analyze it for a moment, but the title doesn’t ring a bell.

Shaking your head, “Unfortunately not. I haven’t had the chance to read in a long while.”

“I guess running a business is time-consuming,” he teases lightly.

“How do you find the time? Didn’t you say your work is hard, too?” you ask.

He leans back in his seat, book resting in his lap.

“I make time,” he simply says. “I found it’s important to make time for things I care about.”

He’s staring at you in a way that makes you think there’s more to his words than he lets on.

“T-That’s a good habit, I suppose,” you say.

“When was the last time you did something for yourself, and not the café?” he questions.

Your brows furrow in deep thought. You thought the answer would come easily, but it doesn’t.

“I—I can’t remember,” you answer with your gaze down, a little dejected at the self-reflection.

Wonwoo sits up and leans toward you. He lowers himself until he can snag eye contact.

“Don’t be too harsh on yourself,” he reassures. “I know what it’s like to bury myself in my work.”

“You probably think I’m pathetic, huh?” you laugh awkwardly.

Wonwoo shakes his head.

“It’s good to be dedicated to something. Your efforts are clearly visible,” he gestures to your crowded café. “But at the same time, it’s also good to not burn yourself out.”

You nod in agreement. “I’ll try to be better.”

“Not for me though. For you,” he says.

You offer him a kind smile that he returns. “For me.”

Friday

Wonwoo doesn’t come at his usual time.

You finally finished his gift last night and are eager to show it to him. You try to suppress your excitement, but it’s difficult to calm your mix of emotions.

As you made it, you realized it was the first time doing something non-work related. Usually, you’d be researching new recipes, doing finances, or simply sleeping. Last night, however, you were doing something personal.

Wonwoo’s words from yesterday ring loudly in your ears.

It felt good to take a break from work.

It felt good to feel like an actual person and not some workaholic machine.

Some say people come into your life for a reason. Maybe you’d still be stuck in your cycle, if not for him.

You wish he were here. 

Wonwoo’s usually a punctual man, so being this late sends uneasy nerves coursing through you. But, the idea of him not showing up at all is even more worrisome. 

Perhaps he’s working overtime and will be here soon. He’s never missed a day.

Yet, as minutes turn into hours, you begin losing hope.

Excitement transitions into worry. This isn’t his typical behavior. You don’t have a way to contact him either.

Is he hurt? Does he need help? Did you say something wrong yesterday? Did he finally decide he doesn’t like your café anymore?

Perhaps you’re too caught up with giving him your gift that you’re overreacting. It could simply be a late, late night at work for him.

He’ll be here.

Even if he just grabs his drink to go, which he’s done in the past, he’ll be here.

The bell chimes as your last coworker leaves for the night.

Wonwoo’s present sat abandoned in your locker throughout your shift. There’s an odd discomfort in your chest as you stare at it now. 

You’re not sure if it originates from being unable to gift it and see Wonwoo’s reaction, or if it’s because he never showed up.

Probably a combination of both, but more so the latter.

It’s uncanny to not see Wonwoo every day.

You had never thought about how you’d feel if you didn’t see him constantly. He was just always there. Always so reliable that you didn’t feel the need to consider what if.

What if he stopped showing up? What if you never saw him again? What if he no longer was a constant in your life?

You swallow the lump forming in your throat.

It’s a harsh reality to know he’s not required to visit. He can leave any time he wants. He can stop visiting your bookstore café at any moment.

There’s a strange thought about you not being good enough for him. Though, you’re not sure what that has anything to do with his absence.

Why would it matter if you weren’t good enough for him? He didn’t come to the café for you.

Did he?

If it was you he wanted, couldn’t he ask you out? Perhaps not as a romantic date, but as friends?

He never has, so he must not want to know you beyond the café. Meaning, he doesn’t come to it solely for you.

But, what changed for him not to show up tonight?

Unsettled with your thoughts, you decide to distract yourself with the final tasks you have to do before you leave.

However, the ride home is filled with more endless thoughts about Wonwoo.

Saturday

You come to work with less bounce in your step than usual.

The world outside seems dimmer. It feels as if the skies are going to be consumed with clouds and rain is going to fall. However, a storm was not in the weather’s forecast.

“Are you getting sick?” Sebastian asks.

You force a smile onto your face for the customer in front of you, handing them their order before looking at your coworker.

“No, why?” you wonder.

“You don’t seem well. Did you not sleep well last night?”

You wish you had, but you tossed and turned constantly. You didn’t think Wonwoo’s absence would affect you so much, but your mind kept wandering to every possibility for his no-show. In the end, you just gave yourself a headache.

“No,” you sigh, “but don’t worry about me.”

You try to smile again, but you’re sure Sebastian can see through it.

“Want me to close up tonight?” he offers.

“Don’t you have a big essay due tomorrow?” you question, remembering how stressed he sounded a few days ago.

“Yeah, but—”

“I’ll be fine,” you insist.

Huffing, he nods and grabs the cup from your hand. “Then go rest for a bit while I finish these orders.”

You purse your lips, contemplating arguing. In the end, you relent, moving to the backroom’s couch and plopping down.

You’ve been scrolling through your phone for ten minutes when you hear a familiar voice.

“Is Yn not here today?”

“Oh, she’s not feeling well, so she’s taking a break. Is there something wrong with our service?” Sebastian answers politely.

You shove your phone in your pocket and head to the door. There’s a small window that you peep out of.

You catch a glimpse of Wonwoo’s frown before he speaks again.

“No, everything’s fine. Will you tell her I hope she feels better?” he asks.

Sebastian nods slowly. Although you can’t see his face, you can see the cogs turn in his head.

“Oh! Ooh! You’re that guy.”

Wonwoo looks confused.

“I’m sorry?” Wonwoo replies.

“The guy that always comes in—”

Not trusting Sebastian to keep his matchmaking attempts at bay, you push through the door.

“Wonwoo,” you greet, trying not to seem too eager that he's here today even though you are.

Wonwoo’s eyes drift past Sebastian to see you. Instantly, his mouth begins to lift.

“Hey, you,” he says lightly, sweetly. “I heard you’re not feeling well.”

“Ah, I’m fine. Seb’s just overreacting.”

Sebastian narrows his eyes at you in a glare.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” he scolds.

“I’ve rested enough,” you shoo with a hand.

“Ten minutes isn’t long enou—”

“Seb, do you mind attending to the customers behind Wonwoo?” you interject.

Sebastian eyes you before grumbling under his breath—something about you being stubborn—then greets the next customer.

You move down the counter to an empty space.

“What can I get you?” you ask Wonwoo.

He shakes his head. “Actually, I just wanted to talk today, if that’s okay. I won’t be long.”

You want to say he can take as much time as he wants, but you hold back.

Concern creeps from the shadows around you.

Is he going to tell you he’s leaving forever? Does he not like your drinks anymore? Did he find somewhere better? Someone better?

“O-Oh, yeah, okay,” you mumble and maneuver around the counter.

You lead Wonwoo to his usual corner, next to the window and the bookshelves. It’s a little quieter here.

You both take a seat from across each other.

You fidget in your seat, nerves making you angsty.

“Are you sure you feel okay?” he asks.

“Just tired, nothing to be worried about,” you smile.

Something in your chest warms at knowing he cares about your well-being.

“Hm. Alright,” he replies a little skeptically.

“Is everything okay with you?” You try to change the subject. “You didn’t come in yesterday.”

Your voice trails off, not wanting to show how concerned you were about his absence. However, Wonwoo can sense it regardless.

He smiles, though the small lift at the corner of his mouth tells you he’s amused with your attempt to hide your worry.

“Did you miss me?” he wonders.

Your eyes widen a bit. “I—Well. I just noticed you didn’t come because you always come, you know?”

He nods with a subtle smirk still on his lips, yet it fades after a few seconds.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come,” he apologizes sincerely. “One of my friends was in the hospital.”

Your heart drops and guilt kicks in. It’s not that you didn’t consider the possibility, but you had been more focused on him not liking you or the café.

“Goodness, I’m sorry to hear that. Are they okay?” you ask, frowning.

“He had to get surgery, but he’s fine. Just a little grumpy and whiny,” he chuckles.

You feel better hearing his small laughter.

“That’s better than being in pain, I guess,” you reply.

“Yes,” he concurs. He waits for a beat then continues, “I wanted to ask you a question.”

You tilt your head. 

A question. That sounds better than some statement about not seeing you again.

“Okay,” you say.

“When we last spoke, it was about you not having enough time for stuff outside of work,” he begins.

You nod to show you’re following but don’t cut in.

“Well, there’s this small event tomorrow. It’s nothing fancy, just some walking around. I wanted to know if you’d like to go with me?”

Your heart races as he speaks. You’re stumped for words. It’s as if you’ve subconsciously been waiting for this, but now that the time has come, you’re too nervous to answer.

“You can decline,” Wonwoo assures.

Although you’re anxious about the idea of meeting outside of the café, you don’t want to miss the opportunity.

“N-No! I mean, no, I don’t want to decline. What time? Where?” you hurriedly say before he can take back his offer.

He grins and holds out a small piece of paper.

You take it, turning it over to see scribbled numbers. You guess it’s his phone number.

“I can pick you up after work. You close early tomorrow, right?” he asks.

You nod, trying to hide your smile at him remembering your café hours. Though, since he visits frequently, you guess it shouldn’t be that surprising.

“Dress warm, okay?” he adds.

“Okay.”

Wonwoo stands from his seat, and you follow.

“Get some more rest tonight, Yn,” he says softly.

“Y-Yeah. I will,” you reply.

Although you’re no longer fretting over reasons for his no-show yesterday, you’ll be worrying about tomorrow now. Still, you’ll try to sleep—maybe even drink some tea or warm milk. You’ll try for him.

Sunday

Wonwoo comes to the café a few minutes before you close. He’s dressed in a fluffy hoodie layered with a light brown trench coat. He looks so…soft and warm.

Before you depart, you make a drink for each of you. He tries to pay but you profusely veto his offer.

The ride to the event is quiet except for the random music being played from his stereo. You’re unsure how long the ride is, but you don’t care. Even if you’re not speaking, it’s nice being with him in a new environment. It’s nice to see a different side of Wonwoo. And part of you hopes he likes seeing a different side of you too.

The event is free, but since donations are strongly encouraged, you and Wonwoo slip a few bills into the plastic reindeer before stepping onto the lit-up walkway.

People of all ages are enjoying the event. The walkway is wide enough to accommodate a couple of people at a time, but it’s still crowded. It forces you and Wonwoo to bump shoulders several times, and each time, you both apologize.

You notice a few minutes into the walk that he seems tenser than usual. You’re not sure of the reason, and he doesn’t seem inclined to disclose the answer.

You try to distract him by pointing out different features—from big blown-up Santas to mechanical reindeer moving up and down. However, it doesn’t seem too effective.

Wonwoo’s steps eventually begin to slow. He never comes to a complete stop, but with his slow speed, a lot of people pass by. Eventually, there’s a gap in the crowd and his body relaxes.

He must not be a fan of crowds.

“Can we sit for a bit?” you ask, not really needing to rest but there are picnic tables with fake candles on them nearby that are less crowded.

“Sure,” he says.

You guide him to an empty table and sit across from each other.

“Thank you for taking me here,” you smile while glancing around. “It’s so pretty.”

The area is filled with multitudes of holiday decor. There are so many lights strung that you don’t need streetlamps to see. It’s rather magical to see it all. It’s a shame you can’t see this all year round. But then again, it might lose its effect if you see it constantly.

“I’m glad you like it,” he replies.

His eyes drop to your hands clasped on the table. There’s a slight shiver in them.

Suddenly, his hands are covering yours—warmth instantly shooting up your arms from his touch. He says nothing as he rubs his thumbs along your cool skin.

You want to say something; however, it doesn’t feel like you have to, so you just stare at him, a small smile on your face while you bask in the warmth he’s providing.

“How does it feel?” he questions after a few minutes.

You open your mouth to say “good” and to thank him for taking away your coldness, but before you can, he speaks again.

“Getting out, I mean. How does it feel to get out of the café?”

“Oh.” Your face heats rapidly. Thank goodness for your slow reaction. “It’s refreshing.”

Wonwoo hums, nodding.

“Should we walk around again, or should we go? I don’t want you catching a cold,” he says.

“I’d like to see more if that’s okay,” you admit.

“It’s more than okay,” he reassures.

He starts to stand, but you grip his hands to stop him. He stares down at you bemused.

“I have something for you,” you explain.

He sits back down, hands leaving yours when you pull away to retrieve something from your bag.

It’s a small black box with a purple bow on it, albeit the decor is a little squished from being confined to your small bag.

“What’s this?” he asks and carefully brings the box nearby.

“Since you gave me a gift this week,” you say, referring to his tip on Monday, “I got you one as well.”

“You didn’t—”

“Need to? I know. But, I wanted to. And I worked hard on it, so accept it, please?” you say lightly so as to not sound too serious. 

He smiles and nods, lifting the lid.

Inside is the bookmark you made him. On the bookmark’s center is a cat with a game controller. It’s simple, but that’s the best you could do with your lack of drawing skills. Attached to the bookmark is a purple tassel.

“You made this?” Wonwoo asks in amazement.

“I’ll only admit to that if you like it,” you say out of nervousness.

Wonwoo laughs and glances at you. “I like it a lot.”

“Then yes, I made it.”

His gaze shifts to the item again, examining it closely for a bit. Then, he sets it back carefully in the box and puts it in his pocket.

“Thank you,” he says earnestly.

“Of course,” you smile.

You and Wonwoo walk around for twenty more minutes before you call it a night. Throughout the entire walk, he held your hand in his free pocket. The warmth from his body combined with his sheltered pocket made your hand clammy. You felt embarrassed at the fact, but Wonwoo refused to release his hold. Truthfully, you didn’t want to let go, but you also didn’t want him to be disgusted at the feeling.

Wonwoo drove you back to your café where your car was.

You tried to demand he stay in your car since he parked next to yours, but he still climbed out.

You stare at his eyes which are framed by his glasses; his cheeks are slightly rosy from the temperature. His dark hair dances softly in the wind. He looks so handsome.

Wonwoo leans forward and connects his lips ever so softly against your cheek. You have the urge to turn your face and capture his lips with yours, but you don’t.

There’s something romantic about going slow.

Wonwoo pulls back with a kind smile.

“You look beautiful tonight, Yn,” he whispers, breath ghosting your face.

You can’t stop the smile forming on your face even if you tried.

“And you look handsome,” you reply.

Wonwoo mirrors your grin.

“Get home safely, alright?” he instructs.

You nod. “You too.”

You unlock your car and climb inside.

Wonwoo lingers outside, watching with his hands in his pockets.

After starting your car and rolling down your window, you lean out and prop your head on your arm that’s resting on the edge.

He bends slightly to see you better, a small grin on his mouth. His face isn’t too close, but it’s closer than it should be for an average person. But, Wonwoo isn’t average.

He’s quiet for a while, and you take the time to observe his features again. Your heart is thumping loudly in your ears. The desire to kiss him resurfaces.

Maybe you’re starting to like Wonwoo. Not just because he’s attractive, kind, funny, and caring, but because he’s Wonwoo.

Wonwoo, who’s been a frequent customer at your café for months.

Wonwoo, who’s always been supportive and kind.

Wonwoo, who’s slowly capturing your heart.

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asks with a smile still on his face.

“Yeah,” you say, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Because of Wonwoo, you’re always looking forward to the next day.

For my “shy/silent” readers, I’ve created a feedback form where you can share your thoughts on my fics in a more anonymous and private way. ^-^

taglist: @musingsofananxiouspotato, @christinewithluv, @lockburn-castle, @iammisstora, @maknae00, @morklee02, @kittyhui

In story divider credit

©️hongcherry // DO NOT REPOST OR MODIFY Please consider reblogging if you liked this work to show your support. Feedback/commentary is always welcomed.

[milktei]

Love at First Rental

Wise x Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff, meet-cute

Warnings: None

a/n: hello! it’s been a while. recently i’ve been playing a ton of zzz (interknot level 43 already o-o) and it’s such a silly game and i love wise <3.

also recently i’ve been coming to terms with the fact that it’s okay if my fics are shorter than i’m used to so hopefully my i can post more things in the near future

“I don’t understand girls, let alone virtual ones.” Something wise told his sister half jokingly when they were first introduced to their new assistant Fairy. He was just so busy with proxy duties, running Random Play, and making sure that Belle didn’t run into trouble that he never really put much thought into meeting new people and going on dates.

Unfortunately for him, there was currently a really pretty girl in the store and he suddenly wished that the opposite was true.

He hopes he didn’t seem too creepy from where he stood behind the counter watching as you perused the collection of the store. 18 was in the staff room with Belle for some maintenance after it started counting change wrong, so Wise opted to just take over the store for the short amount of time it would take.

It was both a blessing and a curse that you just so happened to walk into the store at that moment.

From what he could tell you hadn’t been to the store before, you definitely weren’t a regular and it didn’t seem like you had any specific film to pick out in mind.

‘Just let me know if you need any help’ he wanted to say, but his mouth stayed shut. He couldn’t bring himself to speak, his mouth was dry, what if his voice cracked?

He forced his eyes away from you to look at other customers, the luckyboo to his left, the window outside. Anything but you, staring was rude after all.

“Excuse me.” Wise gripped the edge of the counter tightly, the voice was unfamiliar but deep down he knew. Such a nice voice couldn’t belong to anyone else that was in the store. He swallowed, turning his head to look at you.

You make eye contact and it takes everything in him to not let his legs give out.

He smiles, hoping it didn’t look too awkward, “How can i help you?” He asks calmly *calmly*.

You smile, and Wise nearly melts. Was it normal for a stranger to have such a big effect on him?

“I’m gonna be honest I’m a bit overwhelmed with the selection you have here,” you say sheepishly, “I was wondering if you had any recommendations?”

His hands start sweating as he mentally starts going through the store’s catalog, “Of course, you have any genres in mind?” he mentally pats himself on the back for not stuttering.

You take a moment to think, “Honestly I’m just looking for a film that’s calm, something I can watch to wind down. So anything like that? Even a good documentary would work.”

Wise nearly shouts in victory. A documentary? Perfect, absolutely perfect. “Well actually I enjoy watching documentaries, depending on what interests you I would recommend…”

Wise spends the better part of ten minutes making recommendations, and why he enjoys specific films. To his surprise you’re listening to every word and nodding along, even asking questions as he talks.

Eventually, you settle on a film to rent and Wise is pulling up the stores system to start the transaction.

“Can i have your number?” he says suddenly as you pull out your card to pay.

You look at him stunned, “Pardon me?”

Wise’s eyes widen as he realizes what he just said, “F-for our system!” he coughs, “Just to keep track of what you’ll be renting, a-and if you like you can sign up for a membership too.”

You blink, “Um, actually yeah I’d love to sign up.”

His gaze snaps to meet yours, usually it took a bit more convincing from customers. “That’s great!” he manages to say, was it getting warm in the store? “I’d just need you name and your number then.”

The rest of the transaction relatively goes smoothly. With him now knowing your name and having your number—for the membership of course—along with you promising to swing by the store again and talk about more movies with him.

The door to the shop finally swings shut behind you, and Wise drops his head, leaning on the counter with an embarrassed sigh.

It’s then that he hears a snicker to his right and he looks up. His sister stands there with a fixed and waving 18, and an amused smirk on her face.

“…How much did you-“

“Oh just the last bit,”

Wise groans and drops his head again.

[aquietwritingcorner]

Adding Family

This is for @tmnt-write-fight for @14muffinz Hope you don't mind it being 2k3 ^^;

Title: Adding Family Prompt: April’s family meeting the turtles for the first time  Fandom: TMNT 2003 Word Count: 3163  Author: aquietwritingcorner/realitybreakgirl Rating:  K Characters: April O’Neil, Robyn O’Neil Warning: NA Summary: April has kept the existence of the Splintersons a secret from her sister for a long time. But with some big changes coming, Robyn is going to need to know of their existence. April just hopes that Robyn will handle it well.    Notes: For my own use, I’d set Casey’s mom’s name as Jaqueline (Jackie) Marie Armstrong Jones. ff.net || AO3

________________________________

Adding Family

April loved her big sister. She always had. Robyn had always been a part of her life. A playmate, a defender, a rival, an encourager, her big sister had looked after her even when the two of them clashed. While they had different interests and personalities while growing up, they had settled into a much closer friendship as adults. They had been there for each other and their father when their mother passed. When their father passed, they had come together to grieve him as well.

And yet, they had also grown apart. Robyn lived on the other side of the country, in California, her career path taking her more towards Silicon Valley and start-ups, while April’s own career path had led her towards more established types of engineering. Robyn had been understandably concerned when April had chosen to leave her career path to run the antique shop. She’d been even more concerned for April after the Triceriton invasion, and out-and-out suggested that April move to California with her after Bishop’s fake invasion. Not that Robyn knew it was fake.

She had gently rebuffed her sister, telling her that she was happy in New York City, especially with Casey and her friends, and she didn’t want to leave. Robyn had backed off a little, but April could tell that her sister was keeping an eye on her as best she could, trying to make sure that Casey was good for April, at the least. April knew that her sister was a little concerned that Casey was pressuring April to stay in the city and they, unfortunately, had agreed that it was best to let Robyn be suspicious about that. After all, it wasn’t like April could tell her sister that she had found a support system and a second family in four mutated turtles and a mutated rat.

In fact, she had never planned to tell Robyn anything about the guys. Even her wedding, which they had two of—one for family and friends not in the know, and one that included the family that both April and Casey really wanted to include—was orchestrated to keep knowledge about her family here in New York secret. There was no reason to risk exposing the guys for one day. After all, Robyn lived on the other side of the country, and it wasn’t like she had reason to regularly come to visit April.

At least, she hadn’t until now.

April stood at the window of her apartment, staring out of it. She raised her hands to her face, pressing the flats of her fingers on her nose, breathing out a heavy breath into her palms. It wasn’t as calming as she would have liked.

“Ape? Ya good?” Casey asked, coming up behind her.

April lowered her hands, letting out another sigh. “Yeah. I’m just—Casey are we doing the right thing?”

Casey’s hands came to rest on her shoulders, giving them a little squeeze and lightly massaging them for a moment. “Well, it’s like ya said. We want the kid to know both of his families.”

April’s hand dropped to her belly, it showing at twenty-two weeks along. “That’s true,” she said. “And your mother took it well.”

She could see Casey grimace in the reflection of the window. “Yeah well… Ma’s a special case.” He glanced out the window. “I hope she ain’t givin’ your sister too hard a time.”

April gave him a wry grin in the reflection of the window. “You and me both. But it was nice of her to volunteer to pick Robyn up from the airport and bring her here.”

“I ain’t sure nice is the word for it,” Casey said. “Ma’s probably got her own agenda. But she ain’t gonna spill the beans until it’s time, at least.”

April laughed lightly. “She definitely is a woman who knows when to keep something to herself, and when to say something.” April turned back from the window to look at Casey. “Are the guys here yet?”

He nodded, keeping his hands on her shoulders and pulling her in a little. “Yeah. They’re down in the store right now, stayin’ outta sight until you’ve had a chance to explain things to Robyn.”

April nodded, but then sighed again, crossing her arms and holding onto her elbows. “I wish this wasn’t so difficult.”

Casey leaned down and planted a kiss on her forehead, and then drew her into his arms. “I know, babe. But you and me and Master Splinter and the guys talked this up one way and down the other. There wasn’t any other way to figure it.”

April leaned into him. “I know,” she said softly. “I just… wish it didn’t have to be this way.”

Casey gave her a squeeze, but there really wasn’t anything to say to that.

“Psst! Lovebirds!” Mikey’s voice drifted up from the stairwell that led down into the shop. “Mama Jones has been spotted and she has the parcel. I repeat, Mama Jones has been spotted and she has the parcel.”

The two broke apart, and turned to see Mikey peeking his head up, a finger held to the side of his head as if he were a secret agent using an earpiece.

April grinned at him. “They you better disappear, Mr. Wise Guy.”

Mikey grinned back at her. “You’ve got this, April!” he said, flashing her a big grin and a thumbs up before disappearing silently.

It was only seconds later before there was the sound of someone opening the door in the back stairwell, and April took a breath in, straightening her shoulders.

“Showtime,” Casey muttered as the voices drew closer to the door to the apartment.

A knock sounded on the door, and April hurried forward to answer it.

There was the usual squealing of happiness at seeing each other, Robyn being absolutely amazed that her little sister was pregnant. For the first thirty minutes or so, everyone just chatted, catching up. Robyn told them of the opportunities that she was pursuing along the east coast. Casey told them how well things had been going at work. April told Robyn about the pregnancy, and about how much of a help Casey’s mom had been. Ms. Jones—Jackie—told them some stories about Casey growing up, much to Casey’s dismay, and the girls’ delight. Eventually, though, the laughter and conversation petered out and Robyn glanced around at all of them.

“…I am glad that you have someone here to help you,” Robyn said, sending Jackie a grateful smile. “With Mom gone, and me being no help, it’s nice to know that you have a support system.”

The other three exchanged looks.

“That’s actually why I wanted you to come by, Robyn,” April said, setting her (decaffeinated) cup of coffee down.

“Oh?” Robyn said, her curiosity piqued. She looked as if she had been expecting a change in topic, and April wasn’t surprised. Robyn was observant.

April took a bit of a breath, hoping that she’d find the right words to say. “I haven’t been completely honest with you, Robyn. Remember how you asked how Casey and I met, and I said it was through mutual friends?”

Robyn nodded. “I do. You wouldn’t say much about those mutual friends. You never have.”

April nodded. “There’s a reason for that. Those friends—they’re a big part of my, of our, life. They’re the reason Casey and I met. They’re the reason that we’re still together. They’re the reason we’re still alive through everything that’s happened. But more than that, over the years that we’ve known them, they’ve become more than friends. They’re family.”

Robyn leaned forward obviously intrigued. “Go on,” she said.

“It’s a small family. A single father raising for boys. He’s raised them alone all of their lives, and, from what I understand, they didn’t often have the best living conditions,” she said. “But they are the kindest, most caring people I know. They’ll risk it all to help strangers, even if the strangers will never know it. And they will and have dropped everything to come help me. Their father, he’s become like a father to me as well, the guys? They’re like my little brothers.”

“Mine, too,” Casey said. “It’s like, we came rolling into each other’s lives and after that it was a done deal. They’re my little bros, and, well, the closest thing I’ve had to a father since my own Pa passed.”

Jackie reached over and squeezed her son’s hand, but she didn’t interrupt, letting April and Casey take the lead on the conversation.

“Okay,” Robyn said, drawing out the word and looking between the three of them as if she might find some sort of answer in them. “If they’re that important to you, then what’s the big deal? How come you won’t talk about them to me?”

“They… have a complicated situation,” April said. “But even with that, I want them to be a part of the baby’s life.” She reached out and took Robyn’s hand. “But I want you to be a part of the baby’s life, too. And to make that happen, they’ve agreed to meet you.”

Robyn squeezed April’s hand back, but she still shot them all a confused and guarded look. “You know I can keep a secret, April. Look, I don’t know what kind of complicated situation this is, but if it’s like, I don’t know, witness protection or something, I won’t say a word.”

“If only,” Casey muttered, and April and Jackie both elbowed him.

“Ow! Babe! Ma!”

“Keep yer gob shut unless you’re gonna help, Arnold,” Jackie scolded him.

Casey rubbed his stomach, but didn’t say anything else.

April gripped Robyn’s hands tighter, drawing her sister’s attention back to her. “You have to promise me to keep an open mind, alright?” April said. “Keep an open mind and let us explain.”

Robyn began to look a little uncomfortable, but she nodded. April kept a hold of her hands.

“Alright guys.  You can come up now,” she called out.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs—something April knew they were doing on purpose, to make their arrival less startling, and within a few seconds the first green head—Leonardo—popped into view. Robyn took in an audible breath and tensed up, automatically shifting away. April kept a firm grip on her hands. Robyn gasped in disbelief, sounding as if she were trying to form words, but not getting them out. Her eyes widened and she let out a high-pitched sound as Splinter appeared and started trying to move away. April didn’t let her.

Leo bowed to her, as did they all, and he spoke first. “Hello,” he said, politely, his tone even. “We’re pleased to meet you.”

A strangled sort of scream escaped Robyn, and she began to try to move back in earnest, only this time, she grabbed April’s hands, too, trying to pull her sister with her.

“April!” she said, her voice shaking, pitching high. “April, those—those are the aliens that tried to kill the president! Here! In your home! We—we’ve got to leave! Now!”

“Robyn, calm down,” April said, trying to soothe her sister. “They didn’t try to kill the president. They were trying to save him.”

Robyn wasn’t hearing April, though, practically climbing over the side of the couch and pulling April along with her. “April—April, come on!”

Jackie’s hands landed on Robyn’s shoulders, and Robyn let out a little shriek, looking as if she had almost forgotten the other woman was in the room.

“Calm down, dear, and hear the turtles and rat out,” she said.

Robyn let out another high-pitched distressed noise and looked at Jackie and Casey with wide eyes. “Why aren’t you doing anything?!” she said, clearly panicked.

April tugged on Robyn’s hands again, pulling her sister back towards the couch. “Because it’s okay, Robyn,” she said.

Casey stood up. “Robyn. Trust me. If these guys were a threat to your sister, I wouldn’t just be standin’ here. I’d be tellin’ her, you, and Ma to run, and I’d be rumblin’, knowin’ I was about to go down. But it’d be worth it to protect all of you, and my kid. But these guys?” he stepped to the side a little indicating the others, “These guys are the only people I’d trust without question to protect April and our kid.”

Robyn was looking between all of them, her eyes still wide. “You’re all crazy,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.

“Please,” Splinter stepped forward, and Robyn let out a squeak. “Allow us to explain, Miss O’Neil.”

Robyn was still shaking, but she looked back at April.

“Please, Robyn?” April said. “Trust me.”

Robyn didn’t look happy about it, but she swallowed and nodded, clearly digging into the O’Neil grit, and took a breath. “Alright,” she said, her voice stronger, even with the shake in it. “Alright. Explain.”

The explanation took a while, but Robyn calmed more as it went on. She listened, as promised, but April could tell that she was observing, too. She watched as Mikey and Leo made themselves at home in her kitchen, making some hot chocolate and snacks for everyone. She watched as Raph and Casey picked at each other, until Jackie scolded both of them, and they relented with respectful apologies. She watched as Don went around just fixing up things as he saw need. She watched as Splinter treated April as a daughter, small gestures that were reminiscent of their own father. And she watched as all of them doted on April, making sure that she had everything she needed.

Robyn finally sat back, her mug of hot chocolate long since cooled, and took a deep breath in.

“I’m not going to lie,” she finally said. “This is… a lot. Mutants, ninjas, aliens that didn’t invade the planet…” she shook her head and peered at Mikey. “Are you really a member of the Justice Force?”

“Yep!” he said with a grin. “Want me to call my pal, Silver Sentry? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind backing us up—especially if April’s got any of her cookies around!”

Robyn glanced at April.

“I used Great-Aunt Louise’s recipe,” she said.

“That explains it,” Robyn said. She sat her mug down. “I’m still pretty weirded out by all of this. I mean—who wouldn’t be?”

“Casey,” Raph said.

“And Ms. Jones,” Leo said.

“It’s a family trait, dear,” Jackie replied. “He gets it from my side.”

“Okay, well, aside from them, I think my point still stands,” Robyn said. She ran a hand through her hair. “This crazy stuff.”

“Then we have come to a moment of decision,” Splinter said, and everyone in the room stilled.

Robyn frowned and looked at him. “A moment of decision?” she repeated.

Splinter nodded. “Yes. At the moment, we have put our fate in your hands. Tell me, Miss O’Neil, what will you do with it? You could very easily expose us and drive us away from your sister. Or you could say nothing and allow our family to stay together. The decision is in your hands.”

April looked at Robyn, knowing what she wanted her sister to say and hoping that she would.

Robyn laced her fingers together, placing them in her lap and looked around at the room. No one was moving, everyone collectively holding their breath, waiting.

“This is still rather hard to believe,” she said. “And I’m staring right at it. But I trust my sister. And it sounds like you’ve saved her more than once and helped bring back Uncle Auggie, who—” she winced, “—I might owe an apology to after all of this. His stories are a little more believable now. But I owe all of you, too.” Robyn shook her head. “I won’t say anything. But I am going to have to take time to get used to this, and to all of you.”

“That’s fair,” Leo said.

“So, you’re alright with it?” April asked.

“I’m not sure ‘alright’ is the right word,” Robyn said, turning to April, her lips quirking up in a smile. “But April. You’re my sister. And they are clearly important to you. I’m not going to take that from you.”

April threw her arms around her sister, hugging her tightly. Robyn returned the embrace and April found herself sniffing a little.

“Thank you, Robyn. You don’t know how much this means to me.”

Robyn squeezed her. “I hope I find out how much it does,” she said back.

“Alright!” Mikey said, breaking the moment, and the two sisters pulled away from each other. “This calls for a celebration!” He rocketed to his feet. “April, whatever you want, it’s yours! Peanut butter and pickle ice cream? Pizza roles covered in sour cream and hot sauce? Karai’s personal lunch stolen right off her desk? Hot chocolate from Area 51? Whatever you want, you’ve got dibs, and I’ll go make it!”

April laughed. “Nothing quite like that, Mike. How about just some pizza?”

“Handmade pizza it is!” Mikey said. “Call out your toppings now, everyone, or live with the consequences!”

“I’ll come give you a hand,” Jackie said. “Someone has to make sure you don’t poison my grandchild.”

“Heeeey,” Mikey whined, following the woman into the kitchen.

Raph and Casey snickered, until her voice came out of the kitchen, cracking like a whip. “Arnold! Raphael! Go to the store and pick up more food! I’ve seen how much this one can eat.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Yes, Ma.”

“If you don’t mind, April, I’m going to give your computer a bit of an upgrade,” Don said. “I’ve got some new programs to add on to it that should help with your security.”

Robyn looked at Don curiously. “Really? What kind of programs are those?” she asked.

“My own ones,” Don said. “Here—I’ll show you.”

The sound of a hand being whacked with a wooden spoon and an exclamation came from the kitchen, and Leo sighed.

“I’ll go help in the kitchen,” Leo said. “Just in case.”

April watched everyone go their separate ways, and gave a sigh, leaning back on the couch. She tilted her head back, and closed her eyes, breathing deeply. The couch dipped next to her, and she opened her eyes to look over and see Splinter sitting next to her.

“Family,” he said after a moment, “will always be family. And you will always be part of ours, my daughter. You, and your own family.”

“Thank you, Master Splinter. And thank you for risking so much, just for my child.”

Splinter merely hummed, clearly content just to sit there, and April closed her eyes again, listening to the life in her home.

Yes, it was an extremely stressful day. But all in all, it had worked out for the best, and April couldn’t be more satisfied. She had her family, all of them, and that was the best thing she could give her son.

[figthefruitfaeth]

Mail, Murder, & Other Mysteries

From the Nancy Wheeler Files

Chapter Two: The Anonymous Letter(s) (prev chapter) (ao3 link)

Eddie wakes up to the shrill ring of the landline and stale taste of sugar rotting his teeth. A weak ray of mid-morning light streams in through the windows. The ringing stops. The faint sound of traffic and city life drifts into the quiet of the apartment. He breathes, in, then out.

Just when he starts to relax, the ringing starts up again. He groans, rolling over and shoving his face into the back of the couch.

Eddie knows what he’s doing is stupid. Not just stupid, but a fool’s errand, because trying to avoid Chrissy Cunningham is about as easy as avoiding sunrise. Bright, blinding, and only averted by the machinations of the solar system or God himself. He should write that down…

The ringing stops. Then, a click and—

You’ve reached Nancy—and Eddie’s—apartment.

Christ, she’s leaving a message.

Looks like we’re unavailable at the moment, so leave your name and number at the tone and we’ll get back to you when we can—BEEP.

Eddie! It’s Chrissy. I know you’re there, unless you’re checking the mail again, which I guess means you’re not there. Well, if you’re actually busy then give me a call back when you can! And if you’re not, I’d really appreciate if you’d stop avoiding me. I know it’s a foreign concept to you, but most people would consider that rude! Alright, well I’ll call back later, we’ve got a lot to talk about. Byeeeee!

He sighs, rolling himself flat on his back. This wouldn’t be so hard if she wasn’t so nice about it. For their five years of friendship, he’s never seen her get mean, not even when her shitbag ex-boyfriend showed up at her house drunk and calling her every name in the book (Eddie keyed his car for that, because of the two, he’s the mean one). Worse than that, Chrissy knows it too, using her sweet small-town charm to weasel him into meeting his deadlines. He works best under pressure, and guilt is a motivating pressure alright.

The ceiling is the same ugly off-white color that dominates the rest of their apartment, but it’s also got a popcorn design, which he knows Nancy can’t stand, but he likes it. Maybe not like—intrigue is the better word. It’s a bit like TV static, in that if he stares at it long enough, his brain will drift past himself and the answers to all life’s problems will sail in. It’s how he figured out the twist ending of his last novel (that the Queen’s guard had survived after all) and what to get Nancy for her birthday (a lock-picking kit you could only get at specialty stores).

He lingers in a patch of sunlit popcorn near the edge of The Board. It’s not like he wants to avoid Chrissy’s calls and it’s not like she deserves it either. She’s a good friend and she’s good at her job, which means she won’t let him sulk around in his writer’s block no matter how much he wants to. And God, does he want to.

His latest work, the next in the series, just won’t come together. Nancy had balked at his villain’s third name change, but that’s just the tip of the iceberg. His plot is all over the place, the dialogue stilted, motivations out of character. His editor keeps saying it’s fine, that it’s exactly what the readers (all six of them, he’s not exactly flying off the shelves) want, but it feels wrong. It’s overplayed conformist bullshit he doesn’t want to touch with a ten-foot pole.

The phone rings and Eddie is suddenly very aware of the gnawing pit in his stomach. So much for those answers.

You’ve reached Nancy—and Eddie’s—apartment—

He shoves a handful of store-brand cereal in his mouth, washing it down with the rest of the milk straight from the carton. He ditches the takeout containers in the trash, wipes down the table, and starts a load of dishes.

I’m trying to contact a Nancy Wheeler. This is John from KX News. Like I’ve said before, we don’t have the capabilities—

He sits at his keyboard for five minutes, then makes himself a sandwich.

Eddie, it’s Jeff. Can’t make the next jam sesh, does Thursday work?

The couch would look better against the windows, actually. Or if he moved the coffee table—

Ms. Wheeler, please stop calling me, I don’t know—

You’re not happy with it, I get it, but I can’t help you fix it if you won’t talk to me about it—

You’ve reached Nancy and Eddie’s apartment—

2:30 pm, his watch beeps. He breathes a sigh of relief, throws on a pair of jeans, grabs his keys, and heads downstairs.

Though Nancy may tease him for it, to Eddie, the mail is serious business. Though his fanbase is small, they’re a dedicated bunch, and he gets a nice little chunk of fan mail. He’s particularly fond of the ones he gets from a local group of high schoolers, who send weekly letters with theories about his newest novel or asking for his opinion on movies they’d seen recently. The highlight of his life had to have been when he dedicated, The Battle of Starcourt, to them, and received a 20pg letter in all caps from the group.

It also gives him the chance to get out, or close to out, of the house during daylight hours, which is apparently important according to Chrissy. When he eventually calls back, he can at least give her that.

On the second floor, he passes Mrs. Romero, a withered old woman only ever dressed in floor length floral nightgowns. He waves, she rolls her eyes.

It also, also gives him the chance to, outside of Nancy which apparently does not count according to Nancy herself, engage in more regular social interaction. If maybe one of those interactions includes seeing the cute guy from 3B, would that be so wrong?

He jumps the last few steps, landing against the black and white checkered tile with a satisfying slap. The lobby, which is really just a long hallway with a few signs and a wall of mailboxes, is empty.

Eddie tries not to pout. It’s not like he sees the guy from 3B every day, but when he does, it always seems to be about now. If Nancy’s Nancy Drew act is anything to go by, which, it usually is, then he doesn’t have a reason to check the mail anyway because he’d already picked up everything he’d end up getting for the week. Not unless he’s actually flirting with him, which after yesterday’s fiasco, isn’t likely anymore.

Maybe it’s better this way anyway, Eddie reasons, jamming his key in the lock when it won’t budge open the first time. No 3B, so at least he won’t have to face his humiliation so soon. Big boy? He couldn’t have gone with something a little more casual? And the guy’s face—

He lets his head fall against the mailbox, cold metal biting against his forehead.

“Bad news?”   

Eddie’s never been a particularly lucky guy. He failed his last year of high school twice, been arrested for weed that was actually his friend’s, and always dies in campaigns he isn’t DMing. Today, however, luck definitely isn’t on his side because the voice behind him is none other than 3B.

3B saunters up next to him and leans against the mailbox, a hand at his hip and an eyebrow cocked, like he knows just how good he looks. Which, Eddie bites back a groan, is particularly good today—snug in a pair of the world’s tightest Levi’s and a yellow sweater brighter than the sun. It’s just a tad dated—something he’d see the popular kids in high school wear rather than the loose fit everyone’s starting to sport now. He can’t tell if that means 3B is trying to hang on to the last vestiges of his high school glory days or is sticking to his guns despite the popular opinion, and more concerning, knows the answer wouldn’t change much.

It’s actually really unfair how much Eddie is into him.

“No news, actually,” he swallows, tugging on his key for effect. “I can’t get the stupid little door to open—” he tugs again, and the door swings open, and with it all of his mail.

“Oh shit—”

“Here, let me—”

Together they collect the mail, which isn’t even a lot this time around, but spread out across the hall it takes an awkwardly long time. Eddie can feel his face flush red, and while he hopes it isn’t noticeable, the look 3B is giving him suggests otherwise.

“Well, that’s a newsflash for you,” Eddie mutters more to himself than anything.

3B tilts his head.

“Cause, you asked if I had news…”

“Oh,” he nods. “Right, yeah.”

If the ground could open up and swallow him whole that would make the situation a lot better.

“Well, thanks for the assist, I guess—”

“Oh, hold up,” 3B stops him, a hand clutching his forearm. He lets go just as quickly, but Eddie stays kneeling in his black square, struck still by the other man’s order and the ghost of his palm along the soft of his arm. 3B leans over to the far side of the mailbox, sweater riding up just past his hip, revealing a thin strip of scarred skin. They’re relatively new, still pink and shiny near the bone, but they must feel fine if the way he’s twisting is any indicator. Eddie thinks back to Nancy’s observation, and desperately hopes it’s not true.

“Here we go,” 3B smiles, pushing a few loose strands back with one hand and flashing Eddie his bounty with the other. It’s the latest edition of Fangoria, one Eddie had finally managed to get an article in. “My kids love these.”

“Kids?”

“Not mine!” He scrambles, cheeks tinting a rosy pink. “Not that I don’t want some of my own someday. Or, they don’t have to be mine mine, adopting is just as good, better sometimes in fact, actually. But I’m not ready for kids now, obviously. I mean the apartment is way too small and Robin—” he winces. “I’m going to stop talking now.”

“No, go on,” Eddie grins. Getting his terribly hot neighbor to fall apart on him, well, it’s certainly a confidence boost that’s for sure. “You got names picked out yet?”

“Haha, very funny.”

“Oh, I haven’t heard those before. Family names?”

3B pushes him, but laughs as he does it, the sound a bright and clear echo in the hall. Eddie falls over with little resistance.

“God, this floor is disgusting,” and then there’s a hand in his face. Eddie grabs on and is heaved up with a surprisingly little effort on his part, bringing him close to the warm, sunny chest of 3B. He’s got a soft smile, one that pulls at the corner of his mouth and leaves a crinkle at his eyes. Eddie’s solidly on his feet now, and still, 3B is holding onto him.

“I’m Steve, by the way. Steve Buckley.”

Steve. It’s exactly the kind of name a yellow sweater wearing prep would have. Steve, a guy’s guy, who plays sports and flirts with pretty girls and who lives a nice, normal life. It’s such a cliché it should turn him off.

“Eddie Munson.”

“Ah, so now I know who’s name to yell when Metallica comes on at 3 am.”

“I thought you didn’t know who they were?” He squints, desperately ignoring the part of his brain playing the idea of Steve yelling his name on a loop 

Steve shrugs, “I might’ve picked up a CD yesterday on my way home from the center. Not really my thing, I think. Too much noise.”

“Too much noise? What are you, sixty?”

“Fifty-nine, actually,” he smirks, drawing another laugh from Eddie.

Steve is leaned in close enough that Eddie can get a good hard look at him. He’s got a few dark moles dotted across his face and trailing down his neck, almost black where they meet the collar of his sweater. There’s a whisper of a mustache on his otherwise clean-shaven face, like maybe he forgot to shave this morning. And although Eddie can’t imagine he’s actually any older than himself, Steve’s already got a few lines along his forehead. Not a lot, and they mostly fade when he relaxes his face, but enough to make him think he spends a lot of time frowning. Or laughing. He hopes it’s the latter, he wants to be the latter.

“Well,” Steve says after a few moments, finally letting go of his arm and pressing the long-forgotten magazine into Eddie’s unoccupied hand. “Try to hold onto these this time.”

Steve leans back, like he knows he should go, but expects Eddie to say something else. Maybe even, Eddie hopes, wants him to say something else.

“So, the Buckley twins are fans of horror?”

Steve rolls his eyes, but he’s leaning back into his orbit.

“Again, I don’t actually have any kids. I’m a Big over at Big Brother, Big Sister. Technically, I’m only a Big to Dustin, but his friends are clingy so I end up driving all of them around when we hang out. They love all this kind of nerd shit,” he points at the cover, featuring a sickly pale Dracula leering over the title, “and apparently their favorite author’s in it or something. An Edwin something?”

Eddie sighs. Of course, this would happen, of course—

“Edgar M.W.?”

Steve snaps a finger, “There you go. Yeah, they go crazy for those books, won’t shut up about them. You know him?”

He bites down on a panicked laugh.

Edgar M.W. His pseudonym. His publishers had thought ‘Eddie Munson’ wasn’t a right fit for his brand, which was bullshit, and almost made him keep it just to piss them off. Ultimately, he’d wanted the anonymity a little more than that, so he’d made up Edgar and added the ‘W’ for his Uncle Wayne.

He’s got six fans, and they’re definitely not adults. They don’t sign their full names off, but he’s got more than a sneaking suspicion that the letters he’s been getting, always signed Yours Faithfully, D. and Company, may in fact belong to Steve’s children. Of course—

“Yeah…we, uh, run in similar circles. I’m a writer, too. Fantasy horror.” It’s technically a lie, but it doesn’t feel like one since he’s not legally Edgar M.W. It’s also not a lie in the way he really hasn’t felt like Edgar M.W. in a long time.

“No way,” Steve’s eyes light up, honey brown in the dead of winter. “Publish anything I’d know? Or, that the kids would?”

“Nah, not lately.” The last work he’d published under ‘Eddie Munson’ had been in high school. Not to mention his work in progress, Untitled (1), which he hadn’t touched in the New Year.

“Why’s that?”

It, or, some variation of it, is the question that’s hounded him since he first started writing it. Where his work was, when was it going to be ready, why couldn’t he pull it together. The question he can’t avoid try as he might, what sends him running, because at the end of the day, Eddie’s only brave in stories.

That’s what should be happening now. He should be giving Steve a polite answer and excusing himself back to avoiding his responsibilities. But…

Steve is watching him. He’s not flashing a smile, but the crinkle around his eyes is still there, still happy talking to him. He’s only an inch taller, if that, but he’s got his head titled down the way tall guys always do when they’re trying to listen—trying to catch what Eddie’s going to say, the same way he had pointed at his bleached-out tour t-shirt yesterday. The t-shirt he’d asked about, and then went and bought a CD just to understand what Eddie meant.

Eddie feels…maybe not brave, but less like a coward.

“Cause it’s shit.”

Steve quirks an eyebrow.

“It is! Grade A, 100% bullshit, as my roommate would call it. It’s overwritten and predictable, it’s got absolutely no heart. And the worst part is, I mean, I’ve written something that could be published. It’s a pile of garbage, but it’s ‘sellable’,” Eddie laughs bitterly.

“My editor loves it,” he continues, everything that’s been rolled up tight in him all pouring out at once, “and the guys who sign my checks really love it. Forget making a statement or art, forget trying to wake people up and do something for a change. Sellable is good! Sellable means the readers get to enjoy a nice bedtime story and we all get to pop champagne. It certainly shouldn’t be a problem, because I do like being able to afford more than canned meat and cold showers, but, uh—” God, he sounds stupid, doesn’t he? He could still be stuck in the trailer selling poppers to high schoolers. He could be Munson Senior, behind bars for a rap sheet longer than his IQ, and he’s worried about selling out. Back then it was easy to talk about artistic integrity when he didn’t have shit to lose.

“Sounds hard,” Steve nods sympathetically.

He rolls his eyes, “Thanks, but it’s really not. I mean—”

“Give yourself a break man,” Steve jostles him, the arm just barely grazing his stomach a shock down his spine. “It sucks, trying to live up to expectations and shit and not getting to be who you are. It’s not fair. And maybe it’s not the biggest deal in the world, but uh…it still hurts. Just, quietly.”

Eddie nods.

“Well, whoever said life was fair, huh?”

“Yeah…yeah, you’re not wrong,” Steve hums, eyes still on him but looking past Eddie to something painful. He wonder if Steve would tell him what he’s thinking, which lines in his face hurt and which he’d wear with pride.

Just when Eddie thinks he’s really brought the mood down just after salvaging yesterday’s mess, Steve comes back to him. He smirks, and he can tell it’s a little put on, but not disingenuous.

“Shame though, I was looking for something new for my bookshelf.”

“I thank you for your artistic integrity, but honestly, if I’m selling out, I’m gonna need you to buy a copy,” Eddie grins at the laugh the bursts from Steve. “Maybe even ten. Something to sandwich between all those Sports Illustrated and the high school copy of The Catcher in the Rye I know you’ve got squirreled away.”

He casts Eddie a wary eye. “How’d you know about those?” He asks, leaning back just slightly, a razor thin edge to his tone.

“Just look the type,” Eddie shrugs, uncertain where he’d fallen off track. “I’ve met a lot of jocks and they’ve all got the same library. And you, Steve-o, with the polos, and the hair, and the clear lack of fine musical sensibilities, well. You fall right into that sweet, sweet preppy jock stereotype.”

Quick as it came, the tension melts from his shoulders, and Steve is back on him again.

“Ouch. I’ve got layers, you know.”

Eddie gives him a considering once over. He’s not exactly the tough guy he’d expected, but there’s something in Buckley he wasn’t prepared for. The flat, small-town plain he’d anticipated had suddenly turned off into a forest without a clear path. Deep, winding, and though perhaps not frightening, something to tread through with a clear mind. An adventure.

“Oh, I’m not saying you don’t,” he smirks, pocketing Steve’s little moment for further inspection. “I’m sure there’s a lot under there I’d like to see.”

“Oh, yeah?” Steve breathes, eyes dark and focused. “And what would that be?”

Eddie swallows, throat dry and wanting. Steve’s eyes dart with the movement, before slowly trailing back up to meet him, a smug smirk playing on his lips. The distance between them is barely a foot, just a few inches at most. They’re not touching, but Eddie can feel every carefully measured breath between them, the warmth emanating from Steve seeping into his usually freeze-numb fingertips.

“Well—” he starts, when there’s a beeping, and Steve is out of orbit in a snap. Eddie blinks, the temperature drop an unwelcome wake up call.

“Oh shit—I gotta go,” Steve resets his watch, other hand buried in his hair. “It’s my day to pick up Dustin and his freeloaders, and the last time I was late I got chewed out for an hour.”

“Right! Can’t delay the esteemed royal court,” Eddie says, still dizzy.

Steve snorts. “Royal somethings alright.”

He takes a step back, then stops, and before Eddie can think of anything cute to say, Steve’s tugging at his mail. He pulls out a thick white envelope, one of the square ones that always means someone’s in trouble, and he’s got a cap between his teeth and he’s writing—

“I’m usually home after seven. If Robin answers, hang up. She’s being the most right now,” he presses the letter into Eddie’s chest, keeping his hand there.

“You can throw it away if you want, but if you need someone to talk to. Or see what’s underneath,” he winks.

Eddie blinks. He blinks again, mouth dropping open for a response he simply no longer has the braincells to muster. This is—

He looks down, and he notices three things in an order of increasing despair. The first being that Steve’s got nice handwriting, and he signed it ‘Stevie’ with a little heart over the ‘i’. It’s cute for someone who just technically committed a federal crime, so he’s going to be obsessing over that for the next few hours. Second, the number lands directly over the mailing address, which isn’t Eddie Munson. The means Nancy’s letter, an official looking document spelling only trouble, has been scribbled over by his crush. She’s going to yell at him. Or laugh. Probably both.

And thirdly, Eddie notices Steve’s hand. Pale, with those same dark moles just lightly dotted along the smooth skin and up his well-manicured nails. He hasn’t had a life of hard manual labor, but there’s strength there. The fingers spread wide across his chest, keeping the letter pinned in place, are holding back. Eddie knows he’s also going to be thinking about those fingers later, when he sees it. A little flash of gold gleaming cruelly in the thin winter light.

Steve takes a step back, snapping a finger gun at Eddie.

“See you later, big boy.”

He trips a little on the outer door, then exits with a wave.

Nancy was right. Steve Buckley is definitely flirting with him. Steve Buckley, who is also married.

—

Eddie trudges up to the apartment one stair at a time, letters heavy in his hand. He walks in, slips his shoes off, and slumps into the seat by the window overlooking the alley.

You’ve reached Nancy—and Eddie’s—apartment.

He tosses aside a few credit card offers, and sets Fangoria to the side for himself, same with the letter from the kids, which is particularly heavy today. Star Trek VI must’ve been good. D. & Company. Steve’s Dustin. Steve who’s good with kids and cheats on his wife.

Eddie groans, letting his head fall onto the tiny side table. This, this is why he didn’t want to see the signs. Because just his type is also code for unavailable. From ‘straight’ boys wanting to experiment in high school to sleazy one-night stands in the city, he has a knack for attracting the worst guys. So of course, his cute, flirty, kind and considerate neighbor is legally spoken for and less than morally upstanding.

Why else would a guy and girl move in together? Why else would he mention wanting kids?

If Robin answers, hang up. He’s met Robin before, mostly in passing and never for a terribly long conversation, but she’s funny and a little weird the way he likes his friends. There’s also something distinctly not-straight about her. She’s got a pink triangle pin on her bag and she manages to bring up Nancy in every single one of their five-minute conversations. Maybe she’s just a great ally, a true feminist, but it’s more than that. It’s the way she carries herself, the carefully placed confidence along her shoulders, like she’s not used to being loud and proud but fighting for it anyway.

Steve didn’t have those shoulders. His spoke confidence, a lightness to them that detailed a life of things being handed to him, of smiles and pats on the back and the easiness that came with being blissfully unaware of slurs thrown out car windows and nightmares of hospital rooms.

Just, quiet. The lines in his forehead. The tender pink of his hip bone. The CD he bought and the book he wanted to read.

He shoves his hands into his hair, rings knotting up in the greasy roots, and pulls hard, hissing at the sharp pain along his crown. He’s being stupid, he’s acting desperate. Sure, Steve’s hot and good to kids, but at the end of the day, he’s like every other guy. He’s a straight guy bored with his happy marriage. They’ll hook up and maybe it would be fun for a weekend, but he’ll always get The Look. A sneer of disgust and shame, a blank stare when Eddie mentions breakfast. No, Steve’s nice, so he’d get a pitying smile and a pat on the cheek before he leaves to pick up Robin for t-ball practice.

No. Fuck. He’s not going to be another repressed guy’s outlet. He’s not going to call, he’s not going to think about the little heart, and he’s not going to get the look.

Determined, Eddie pops up, sorting through the remaining pile for his number and does his best to crumble it up, the thick cardstock texture unwilling to bend very far. He doesn’t get the ball he wanted, and he’s a little sweaty at this point, but the symbolism is there. He chucks the envelope out the window before realizing that one, it’s still Nancy’s fucking mail, and two, that the window is in fact still shut tight, bouncing back on his face.

You’ve reached Nancy—and Eddie’s—apartment.

He only screams a little.

Outside, a flock of birds fly over the adjacent apartment building. A car horn blares. That’s when he notices an unfamiliar face leaning up against the trash bin. Cities are big, sure, but their alley isn’t one you exactly wander into by accident. The guy’s got tight blonde curls, a gold tan unhindered by anything more than a short-sleeve button-down, and a cigarette dangling from his lips. There’s a distinct edge to his stance, one Eddie recognizes from his dad’s old buddies. This guy’s done time, and he did it well.

Unease itches along his spine. Eddie might scare easy, but there is definitely something wrong with this guy.

As if sensing his thoughts, the guy looks directly up at him. Logically, Eddie knows he’s not really looking at him, the vantage from the alley into the living room is pretty shit, but there’s a smirk on his lip more akin to a snarl than anything. Like a predator that’s finally caught sight of its prey.

Quick as it came, the cigarette is crushed under the heel of his dark boots and he struts back out to the street.

Eddie sighs. This city is so fucking weird sometimes. God, he’d kill for a cigarette.

What he settles for instead is curling up on the couch with a Lucky Light and the rhythmic flick of his lighter. He misses their TV. Not by much, but it was always a nice distraction. More than anything, he misses the old westerns Wayne used to watch, misses his gentle snores and the death grip he had on his stone-cold mug of coffee. No cigarettes, no TV, no goddamn luck. Not unless you count the bubblegum, which ain’t much.

At some point he falls into a restless sleep, tossing and turning, each time almost drifting off until another call comes in or the radiator screams randomly.

“Hey,” and there’s a short, strong tug on his shoulder. He jerks up, blurry vision focusing on Nancy setting down a take-out bag on the table. “Got Thai tonight.”

“Oh, thank God,” Eddie mumbles, digging into the first plastic container she hands him, groaning as grilled chicken and sweet and sour sauce hit him full force. “Cross that—you are God, Nancy Wheeler.”

 “Jesus, okay. Did you eat today?”

“Yes, dad. Had a sandwich with bread and everything.”

She raises a brow, “That’s it?” 

He rolls his eyes. It’s not his fault his brain doesn’t tell him he’s hungry till three hours later. At least it wasn’t a nothing-in-this-house-is-edible day. “Oh, yeah? And what’d you have?”

Though she doesn’t have the same malfunction, Nancy is just as bad as him, regularly skipping meals in favor of shitty office coffee. A cliché if he’s ever seen one, though he can’t blame her. He’s right too, because suddenly, she seems very interested in her spring rolls.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he smirks.

“Anyway,” she breezes through, shoulders clinched tight, “How was your day? Did you call Chrissy back yet?”

“…no.”

“Eddie—”

“I know! I was going to but—” he sighs. She’s going to get it out of him one way or the other, might as well submit to the inevitable. “I saw 3B again.”

“Oh?”

“His name is Steve. As always, you were right, he was definitely flirting with me and it was going, if I say so myself, really well. That is, until I saw the ring.” He hums a few notes, miming a piano with one hand.

The heavy pit in his stomach from earlier grows twice in size at the sight of Nancy’s face. Mouth pinched, eyebrows slightly upturned. It’s the look he gets whenever he tells her a story from his childhood, even though some of those are actually funny just in an admittedly fucked up kind of way. He shifts uncomfortably.  

“It’s whatever, Nance. Life sucks, and then you die,” he shrugs, trying to play it cool. It doesn’t work, it never works with her, because she’s still got her look. “Probably better not to get biblical with the neighbors anyway. Don’t shit where you eat and all that.”

He itches under her gaze.

“Eddie—"

“Just—leave it. Okay? Honestly, it’s not even that big of a deal. I’m just sorry for Robin if anything.”

The radiator clanks.

“I told you she wasn’t into me,” she says, just as cool.

“I wouldn’t say that, I mean—"

“What would you say, then?” Her voice has the razor-sharp edge to it, the kind that tells him if he pushes, he’s getting cut, and Eddie’s had enough slashes to the heart for one day.

She goes back to her spring rolls, skipping the usual third-degree he’d be getting over his feelings and what exactly he saw. Great. Fucking great. As much as she’s the rock in this relationship, he forgets how sensitive she is underneath it all, and now he’s gone and fucked it up. He sinks further into the couch.

The rest of the meal is quiet, both of them stewing in their own take-out container of disappointment. When they’re done, Eddie cleans up, a quiet apology for ruining the mood.

Nancy’s with The Board now, back turned to him. He slouches over to the couch, burying himself in one of the pillows. It’s always easier for him to sleep with someone else in the room, something about the noise of cohabitation lulling him to sleep, but the weight of 3B presses in on him.

He turns over, still deciding between a joke and a more sincere apology, to find Nancy not where he left her. Instead, she’s by the window, opened envelope clutched in one hand and its contents in the other, brow furrowed.

“What is this?”

Panic floods over him, “Oh, shit—listen, he wrote it down before I realized—”

“No, Eddie—” she crosses the room, thrusting the letter in his face. “What is this?”

Instead of anger or frustration like he expects, her face is almost completely blank, just the slightest twitch of her lip like she’s holding herself back from firing off. She raises a brow at the mail, wiggling it for effect.

At first, Eddie’s sure he’s somehow still halfway asleep, because it won’t come into focus. He blinks, then wipes at his eyes with a clumsy hand. The first page, creased from his earlier attempts, has a row of columns with a series of numbers running down the left-hand side and dotted throughout the main text. The text itself is strange, letters he recognizes but strung together wrong, forming half a word before falling into gibberish. Some of the letters themselves don’t look right, ‘N’s that face the other way or ‘O’s with slashes through them. Wait—

“Is that—”

“Russian,” she nods, eyes shining bright as she shuffles through the pages, “And look. No sender, no return address. Just this.”

The last page has the same column structure but is almost entirely empty save for a few notes in Russian at the top. Scribbled across the center in thick black ink are two distinctly English words:

KEEP. DIGGING.

Holy. Fuck.

“Barbara Holland was murdered,” Nancy says. “We’re going to find out why.”

[beatthegame]

I just beat Rampage! On original hardware with the Nintendo Entertainment System. Back in 1989, we would have slumber parties at my cousins house. Trying to beat this damn game. After countless levels, we came close but never had the chance to beat it. Either we fell asleep or the game would crash out. Victory was never an option...until now!

In a nutshell: King Kong and Godzilla team up and destroy America! Based off the arcade hit. The NES tried their best to bring the Rampage experience at home. With unlimited quarters/replays at your disposal. What's not to like?

The Good: You are blessed with the power to control giant kaiju monsters. Demolishing REAL American cities. The 80's were a different time! LOL! You can choose a giant gorilla named George or a giant lizard named...Lizzie. You can climb buildings. Punch holes through walls. And bring down buildings like a living wrecking ball. There are plenty of soldiers and police cars and tanks trying to shoot back at you. There are stringent laws in place that prevent folks from punching holes through buldings. So the opposition seems fair. There are no dialogue options. So the only thing you could do is knock down buildings and eat people. And it's a lot a fun! Destroying one city at a time. From San Francisco to New York City. Check out the Twin Towers in one of the screenshots! Even Alaska and Hawaii can eat shit. Bring a friend! Punch every building into dust and grab a fruit bowl out of a window. It's all good. You can even beat the piss out of each other to see who's the top monster. It's simple yet fun. But for how long?

The Bad: First of all, where's Ralph?! In the arcade version, you can also choose a giant werewolf named Ralph. But that is not an option with the NES version. Weaker hardware by comparison? Sure. Aside from that... if you played one level of Rampage? You played them all. Give or take a subtle change in background? You hop around building to building and punch holes into walls until there are no buildings left. Next level. Repeat. It's certainly fun for a few levels. In between, you'll catch a scene with Lizzie punching a hole through the map of the United States. Implying that you wiped out that state? Ok. But after a hundred or more levels? The game becomes very monotonous. And I get that this is an arcade game designed to eat quarters and entertain for a few minutes. But the game does not hold up well for extended play. The ending was pretty weak too. Just the same bit with Lizzie punching a hole through the United States. "Congratulations" And that's it. Roll credits. I'm surprised I was able to grab a photo, it happened so fast! LOL! Not exactly worth the hastle but it felt good being able to slay that old dragon once and for all.

Overall: Rampage is a classic. Not an all-time great like a Mario or Bomberman. It's a simple game that anyone can pick up and play. It's not gory, so kids could play this. But if they decide to climb buildings and punch holes through walls? I would still blame the parents. They should've kept an eye on their damn kids and played some Rampage with them instead of playing on their phones. But not for TOO long because it gets boring after a while. Go read a book if that happens. Or you can watch the Rampage movie with Dwane "The Rock" Johnson. Personally, I'd rather play the game instead. The original arcade version would be nice. But if you're looking for something quick, simple and fun at home, Rampage is a good time.

B- Class

[dumbass-tumbler-cryptid]

What if Paz I Quaritch's unborn child somehow survived? (The medics performed an immediate c-section or something, I don't know but it's fiction so let's assume it's possible) Would it have changed the situation and Quaritch wouldn't have decided to take justice on his own? Or what if he still ended up in prison? Would Spider and his siblings be separated or would they be in the system together? Would he kidnap both of them? Do you have any headcaninsabkut this second child? (I'm sorry that I overuse the word "child"but I don't know what gender they would be and English is not my first language so I don't know much about any synonyms)

Thank you for the question! I've actually had this thought before, because I think Spider would make a great big brother, and the whole dynamic of cabin in the woods would be changed in a really interesting way with the presence of a sibling.

So first, how there unborn child survived. Scientists are actually working on artificial womb technology right now. It's been a few year since I've read the article discussing this future tech but basically the baby grows in a pod and the parents can watch it grown. It's intended for couples that can't conceive naturally, or babies born premature. So all this to say it's not crazy for the child to survive via this tech. Because Paz was only just starting her second trimester when she was killed, so there was no way there second child would have survived without an artificial womb.

In this scenario Paz dies on impact (like in the original story) but the child isn't dead. It still has a heart beat when emergency services arrive so they extract it and put it into an artificial womb. Quaritch is still devastated and angry over the death of his wife, but he's also so thankful for the tech that allows him to save his second child. Since this tech would be fairly new, it's incredibly expensive, but Quaritch doesn't care. Quaritch is rich so money is no object. This is true of cabin in the woods too. He has a high paying job, never lived beyond his needs (cheep food, crappy apartment, never takes a sick/vacation day) and made smart investments so he's basically a millionaire by the time him and Paz get together and his fortune only grew after he got the $500,000 settlement for Paz's death.

In my Paz lives modern au I've said that I just like the idea of Quaritch and Paz accidently having a similar family dynamic to Jake and Neytiri so in my mind their second child would also be a boy. If it's just Quaritch picking the name, i feel like he would pick something strong, that makes you think of a fighter. Like Hunter.

Hunter Quaritch-Socorro would be born during the trial that decided the fate of his mother's killer. Quaritch would still be furious over the verdict but he's got a toddler and a newborn to put on a brave face for. He'd still eventually go after Paz's killer maybe half crazed from the sleep deprivation and stress that comes with taking care of two babies on your own, so yeah, he'd still go to prison.

It would be nice if Spider and his little brother could stay together but for the drama I'm going to say they are separated. Hunter is still an infant and so is easily adopted by a new family while Spider is stuck in the foster care system. He doesn't even remember having a brother by the time Quaritch kidnaps him.

The kidnaping of the Socorro brothers would have to be a well timed group effort with team deja blue. Quaritch would grab Spider in the same way, and Lyle would be in charge of grabbing Hunter.

The boys wake up in the cabin side by side on a bed, but not tied down. All the exit doors and windows are locked tight, and they both have ankle monitors on. Quaritch explains everything to them, using pictures and home movies as proof of everything. Spider easily accepts that the boy next to him is his brother and automatically goes into protective big brother mode. Hunter has a harder time accepting it. He had never been told that he was adopted. But it does make sense. He had never looked like a single person in his (adopted) family. And while he doesn't want to accept what's happening to him, it is plain to see. The boy next to him, his older brother, looks so much like him they could be twins if not for Hunter having dark hair like the woman in the family pictures, and blue eyes that look exactly like his kidnappers.

In this scenario I think Spider would actually be more receptive to Quaritch's brainwashing. He'd be incredibly bitter over the fact that his little brother was taken from him, given the stable home that Spider had always wanted, and worst of all that the brothers had been made to forget about each other. I think Hunter too, would be really mad that his adopted parents had kept so much from him. He'd be mad about being kidnapped too but at least his bio dad tells him the truth.

All in all after the boys come to terms with everything that's happening, as long as Quaritch is a half decent father to them, I think both boys would fall in line in favor of being a family.

[omegaprotocol]

Old Friends

Jason lives in a studio apartment with a single window outlooking the city with a fire escape. The place has clothes lying around and several instruments on stands looking pristine. Next to the instruments is a desk with a computer, sound system and mixer. Jason’s alarm clock is blinking as if a power out hit it. Jason is unconscious in his bed, with messy hair and dirty pajamas. One eye opens as he lazily reaches out for his phone with one hand. The time says 4:25 Pm. He stands up and puts his slippers on. He looks at the mess and gives up on cleaning it right now. He sits down at the desk, picks up his guitar and begins playing a few notes. On the computer screen is a new song that he had been working on for months with no progress. He looks at a picture of him and his grandma at his graduation from college and lets out a deep sigh.

“I’ll make it one day.” Jason plays a few more notes when the doorbell rings. Jason changes shirts to something cleaner and opens the door. On the other side is Hailey, a childhood friend of his from all the way back in middle school. She’s standing with a robot in a lab coat and the baseball cap Jason had given Hailey years ago.

“Hey Jason, I need your help with something important.” Hailey walks past Jason into his apartment and looks at the mess. “I see you still have the same organization skills as you did in college.”

“Hello to you too, and I wasn’t expecting company from you and your next science fair project. Why is it wearing my hat?” Omega holds her hand out to Jason excitedly.

“Hello, it’s wonderful to meet someone new! I am Omega Zero and I am programmed to save the world!” Jason looks Omega up and down before taking her hand and shakes it.

“That’s cute Hailey, but why is it here?” Jason turns to Hailey, “And frankly, why are you here? You don’t return my texts or calls, flake when we make plans, and disappear for a year and all the sudden you need something from me.” Hailey goes to Jason’s kitchen and grabs a soda from his fridge without making eye contact.

“That sums it up pretty well actually, and I was working on something really important.” Hailey gestures to Omega. “After I got that contract from the government, she needed my full attention." Jason sighs knowing that she says this for every robot she builds, and this time is no different. “I need a place to hide her until I figure out what to do next.” Omega begins looking around the room and shows interest with Jason’s music studio setup.

“Hide her? Why does she need to hide?”

“Turns out the government didn’t actually want a robot to protect Earth, they wanted a weapon to use for themselves. So I had to steal my blueprints and sneak Omega out of the lab so the government couldn't have her. She is much too important to let fall in the wrong hands.”

“Wait, so you actually built like a super murder robot for the government?”

“No, I didn’t. Omegas programming is very clear. Her only two objectives are to protect the people of Earth, and defend the planet from any harmful threats.”

“And why can’t she stay at your house?”

“The government is on my back and would expect me to hide something there. This is way less obvious.” Jason looks over at Omega, who has picked up a drumstick and is looking it over with genuine curiosity. Jason face palms before answering back.

“You're lucky I hate the government. Fine, I’ll house your little fugitive until you can build some other invention that magically solves all your problems.”

“Thanks Jason, you're a lifesaver.” Hailey quickly leaves the room and closes the door behind her.

“Yeah no problem, I live to serve you.” Jason looks up at the ceiling and lets out a groan. He looks at Omega waiting to see if she is going to do anything. Omega is now sitting quietly at Jason’s drum set. She takes the baseball cap she was wearing and holds it out to Jason with a smile.

“This is yours, I wanted to return it to you. Dr. Hailey would wear it around the lab but it has your name on it.”

“Oh, thanks. I gave it to her a long time ago.” He sets the hat down on the kitchen counter. “So are you really going to save the world, like, superhero crimefighter robot style?”

“Someday I hope so! Right now I don’t know much about the world and I hope to learn more. From what Dr. Hailey lets me read, humans seem really complicated, but they are really cool!” Jason’s expression changes from tired to curious.

“You hope? That isn’t something that robots normally do.”

“Well, I am not a normal superhero crimefighter robot.” Jason see’s Omega’s genuine happiness and innocence and can’t help but smile back at her.

“What was your name again?”

“Omega Zero! But you can just call me Omega.”

“Do you like music?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never tried it.” Jason sits down at his studio setup and begins showing Omega what all of his equipment does and plays some music for her.

[freshdotdaily]

A lot of y'all know I been obsessed with Rammellzee for a hot second now. I don't have the crazy obsession y'all have w/ Basqiuat, or Andy Warhol. But of that downtown scene, I reaaaally loved Haring as a yute dem and I really fucked with A. Charles just off seeing their work publicly all around me.

But once I found Ramm, it was another revelation. A convergence of a lot of shit I like wrapped in one enigmatic weirdo artist's ideas to pick apart and break down. Bruh, this nigga straddles genius and mental illness in a wild way. There's a touch of Rammellzee in MF DOOM.

One of the reasons I liked the young rapper Wiki when I found him in 2012, (outside of this video) is because him/his crew "Ratking" refers to "Letter Racers". I instantly thought, "yo, this kid is tapped in!".

Also, I'm guilty for really obsessing over late 80's and 90's era NYC culture. Y'all wasn't outside, but there's just something super ill about that downtown time/space that incubated so much of our culture from my hometown. Alex Corporan (of Supreme's OG crew) summed it thusly: "The ‘90s in NYC lands as the last of the epic, raw, untouchable, unstoppable, fearless times for life. You're unable to replicate the experience of what was happening in New York during this time. Skateboarding, music, nightlife, art, fashion... you name it! 2000-2004 held onto that energy for a bit, but from 1990-1999 you grew up real fast and experienced shit in light speed."

Anyways, NY Times did a piece I wanna hit y'all with. I sprinkled in some video/links/pics for razzle-dazzle. Long live Rammellzee! In the late nineteen-seventies, the sociologist Nathan Glazer had grown weary of riding New York’s graffiti-covered subways. The names of young vandals, who identified themselves as “writers” rather than as artists, were everywhere—inside, outside, sometimes stretching across multiple train cars. Glazer didn’t know who these writers were, or whether their transgressive spirit ever manifested itself in violent crimes, but that didn’t matter. The daily confrontation with graffiti suggested a city under siege. “The signs of official failure are everywhere,” he wrote in an influential 1979 essay. Graffiti, with its casual anarchy and cryptic syntax, offered glimpses into a “world of uncontrollable predators.” In the nineties, Glazer’s essay would help inspire the concept of “broken windows” policing—a theory that preserving the appearance of calm, orderly neighborhoods can foster peace and civility.

Graffiti has always had this kind of metaphorical power. It is somehow more than art or destruction (even though it is both), and it prompts awe or dread, depending on your tolerance for disorder. For every Glazer, there were romantics like Norman Mailer, who had written the text for a book of photographs elevating graffiti to the status of “faith.” From his perspective, graffiti forced the upper crust to reckon with the names and the fugitive dreams of a forgotten underclass: “You hit your name and maybe something in the whole scheme of the system gives a death rattle.”

Few people understood and internalized this power as deeply as the artist, rapper, and theoretician Rammellzee (which he styled as The ramm:ell:zee). He believed that his time in the train yards and the tunnels of New York gave him a vision for how to destroy and rebuild our world. He was born in 1960 and grew up in Far Rockaway, Queens. His birth name is a closely guarded secret; he legally changed it to his artistic tag in 1979. (He also insisted that The ramm:ell:zee was an “equation,” not a name.) Little is known about his youth, aside from passing aspirations to study dentistry (he was good with his hands) and to be a model (in a 1980 catalogue, he is identified as Mcrammellzee).

Ramm—as he became known—believed that language enforced discipline, and that whoever controlled it could steer people’s thoughts and imaginations. His hope wasn’t to replace English; he wanted to annihilate it from the inside out. His generation grew up after urban flight had devastated New York’s finances and infrastructure. Ramm channelled the chaos into a spectacular personal mythology, drawn from philology, astrophysics, and medieval history. He was obsessed with a story of Gothic monks whose lettering grew so ornate that the bishops found it unreadable and banned the technique. The monks’ work wasn’t so different from the increasingly abstract styles of graffiti writing, which turned a name into something mysterious and unrecognizable. Ramm developed a philosophy, Gothic Futurism, and an artistic approach that he called Ikonoklast Panzerism: “Ikonoklast” because he was a “symbol destroyer,” abolishing age-old standards of language and meaning; “Panzer” because this symbolic warfare involved arming all the letters of the alphabet, so that they might liberate themselves. He lived these ideas through his art and his music, and by being part of the hip-hop scene during its infancy.

In 1983, Rammellzee and a rapper named K-Rob went to visit the painter Jean-Michel Basquiat. Though Ramm and Basquiat were friends, they were also rivals. Ramm would later say that Basquiat wasn’t a “dream artist”—he didn’t so much radiate visions outward as take things in like a “sponge,” learning about genius from books. He and Ramm once bet on who could most convincingly parody the other’s work. (Ramm claimed not only that he won but that Basquiat’s art dealer, who wasn’t in on their ruse, told Basquiat that “his” work was the best he had ever done.)

That night, Basquiat invited Ramm and K-Rob to record a song he’d written. Ramm, who had rapped in the movie “Wild Style,” was already known for his unique nasal sneer. (He called it his “gangster duck” style.) The two men looked at Basquiat’s elementary rhymes, laughed, and tossed them in the trash. Instead, they made up their own lyrics—a brilliant, surreal tale of a kid (the earnest, bemused K-Rob) who’s on his way home and a hectoring pimp (Ramm) who tries to tempt him toward the dark side. Basquiat called the song “Beat Bop,” and paid for it to be produced; he painted the vinyl single’s cover art himself. The song was murky and strange, like a spiky funk jam slowed to a sinister crawl. In the background, someone tunes a violin. There’s so much echo and reverb on the track that it sounds like an attempt at time travel.

In the eighties, graffiti gained acceptance in the art world. Despite Ramm’s charisma, the intensity of his work and his stubborn, erratic personality kept him on the movement’s fringes. Where Basquiat and Keith Haring seemed shy showmen, Ramm came across as a nutty professor. His early paintings took inspiration from the psychedelia of comic books and science fantasy, with mazy train tracks running across cosmic reliefs. His palette was attuned to the era’s anxieties about nuclear war and nuclear waste. The colors were bright and garish, suggesting a box of neon highlighters run amok.

Rammellzee created and wore full-body suits of armor that he called “Garbage Gods.”

Photograph by Mari Horiuchi / courtesy Red Bull Arts New York and the Rammellzee Estate

In the mid-eighties, he began rendering these ideas in 3-D. He made sculptures that evoked the fossilized remains of twentieth-century life: newspaper clippings, key rings, chain links, and other junk, floating in an epoxy ooze. The most remarkable works were his “Garbage Gods,” full-body suits of armor, some of which weighed more than a hundred pounds. They look like junk-yard Transformers doing samurai cosplay. His most famous character, the Gasholeer, was outfitted with a small flamethrower.

Ramm’s art, thought, and music are the subject of the exhibition “ramm∑llz∑∑: Racing for Thunder,” at Red Bull Arts New York.

Befitting the popular drink’s own sense of iconoclasm, “Racing” bathes in Ramm’s frenzied, free-associative, and occasionally overwhelming energy. There are his early canvases and sculptures, along with flyers, business cards, manifestos, and patent applications. A small theatre screens previously unseen videos of Ramm rapping at nightclubs. The most impressive part of the survey is a floor devoted to his “Garbage Gods” and “Letter Racers”—skateboards representing each letter of the alphabet, armed with makeshift rockets, screwdrivers, and blades.

Throughout the exhibition, you can hear moments from Ramm’s lectures on Gothic Futurism—a thrilling jumble of street-corner hustling and technical language, all “parsecs,” “integers,” “aerodynamics.” As I was examining a collection of hand-painted watches, I kept hearing Ramm pause as he reached the end of a long disquisition on ecological catastrophe and graffiti-as-warfare, and then bark, “Next slide!”

In early May, the Red Bull Music Festival staged a Ramm-inspired concert to mark the opening of the art show. Ramm had continued to make music after “Beat Bop,” never wavering from his philosophies, just declaring them against increasingly turbulent, industrial-sounding backdrops. The eclecticism of the bill spoke to his wandering ear, and ranged from the terse hardcore of Show Me the Body to the wise-ass raps of Wiki. K-Rob, wearing a T-shirt featuring a mushroom and the words “I’m a Fun Guy,” reprised his verse from “Beat Bop,” grinning the whole way through. Gio Escobar, the leader of the deft punk-jazz band Standing on the Corner, dedicated a song to a late friend. The departed are everywhere around us, he said, as a groove emerged from the band’s dubbed-out chaos. “And they’re waiting.”

As hip-hop and art changed, as graffiti vanished from New York’s trains and walls, Ramm delved further into his own private cosmos—namely, the enormous loft in Tribeca where he lived, which he called the Battle Station. His obscurity wasn’t a choice. In the early eighties, he offered to send the U.S. military some of the intelligence he had gathered for national defense. (It declined.) In 1985, he wrote an opera, “The Requiem of Gothic Futurism.” In the nineties, he tried to promote his ideas by producing a comic book and a board game. He thought that toy manufacturers might want to mass-produce his “Garbage Gods” models.

He was the first artist to collaborate with the streetwear brand Supreme.

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There was a series of infomercial-like videos to seed interest in “Alpha’s Bet,” an epic movie that he hoped would finally resolve the narrative arc of his extended universe.

By the time Rammellzee died, in 2010, after a long illness, New York City had been completely remade by mayoral administrations that took broken-windows policing as gospel. The Battle Station became condos.

The Internet has made it easy to take what the culture provides you and rearrange it in some novel, cheeky way. It’s much more difficult to build an entirely new world—to abide by an ethical vision with a ferocity that requires you to break all the rules. I was surprised by how moved I felt standing underneath Ramm’s “Letter Racers” and studying the textures of the “Garbage Gods.” To see their meticulous handiwork up close was to believe that Ramm’s far-flung theories, his mashup of quantum physics and “slanguage,” made sense as an outsider’s survival strategy. I noticed all the discarded fragments of city life—bulbs and screws, a billiard ball, a doll’s head, old fan blades and turn-signal signs, visors stacked to look like pill bugs. His commitment was total. These are works of devotion.

This is where Ramm wanted to live—at the edge of comprehensibility, but in a way that invited others to wonder. Cities are filled with strangers who possess an unnerving energy, who hail us with stories, songs, and poems. Ramm was one of these. In an interview filmed in the aughts, Ramm sheds light on his everyday life. Sometimes, he says, he’ll be walking down the street or sitting at a bar, and people will just look at him. And sometimes they’ll come up to him and ask, “Who are you?” He’s explaining all this while wearing one of his “Garbage God” masks. You notice his paunch, the warm crackle of his voice at rest. “I’m just an average Joe,” he says, and he sounds like he believes it. 

♦Published in the print edition of the May 28, 2018, issue, with the headline “Graffiti Prophet.”

[lennon-notlemon]

ꕀ ᐝ 𖠳   riley keough, cis woman ,she/her 𖠳 ᐝ ꕀ ‷ heads up ; if you hear GOLD DUST WOMAN by FLEETWOOD MAC blaring, it’s most likely LENNON TYLER making their way down the shore ! they’re 31 years old and celebrate their birthday on 12/08 - i knew they were a SAGITTARIUS ! especially since they’re very CREATIVE and FLIGHTY. they are from CAPE MAY, staying in DOWNTOWN and are currently working as a BARTENDER AND PART TIME MUSICIAN AT BOILER ROOM , here at the cape. they always did remind me of messy hair that always somehow looked perfect, dancing around barefoot listening to an old record, the golden hour shining through your window .‷

hi friends:) I’m mads, I’m going to be playing this sweet little angel Lennon. She’s just a bright ray of sunshine, looking forward to plotting with you all :)

&. BASICS

Full Name: Lennon Christine Tyler

Nicknames: Lenny, Lemon((not her favorite)

Age: thirty

Sexuality: bisexual

Date of Birth: 12th May 1992

Place of Birth: Boston, Massachusetts, United States of America

Current Location: Cape May, NJ

Character Inspiration: Stevie Nicks, Daisy from Daisy Jones in the six, and Peyton Swayer from One Tree Hill

&. BIOGRAPHY

tw: car accident, death, substance abuse

-Lennon isn’t for everyone that’s for sure.  To compare it to something-she’s that bitter taste  you get when you lick a lemon and while you pucker either decide you enjoy it or that it’s not for you. Lennon was born to two loving parents who not only had a love for their daughter but of musicians. Being named after two it was kind of fate that she end up with a love for music. Since she could remember she’s been singing and performing. From doing one woman shows in front of all her aunts and uncles at holiday to the school plays to performing in local coffee shops.

But like all artist, there is a turning point.  A point where if Netflix was making a documentary about her life Lennon would say- yep that’s the point it all changed. When Lennon was set to perform for the Boston center of the arts new talent where schools like Juliard had front row seats reserved she waited in the wings anxiously. Her phone was getting closer to 8pm the time she was set to go on and do the song she’d been rehearsing. This could be the moment it all changed- simultaiosly as she stepped foot onto the stage taking a deep breath and bracing herself with a smile, her parents were taking their last. The winter storm had iced the road on their way to the venue which unfortunately they never made it to. 

Lennon was seventeen when her parents died. An only child she had no one, no where to go, she was lost. 

At seventeen she was put into a foster care system and sent to live with a family in Cape May. It was there she lived with her Foster dads and ended up getting adopted. Only a year later to be legally free, Lennon stayed around. Thankful that her dads were the people they were and helped her even when she pushed so hard back at them. It wasn’t a long time she lived there but long enough to finally start letting some light back into her life. She picked up a guitar again for the first time since her parents died when she was 27. Her adopted father Rafel got it for her on her 18th birthday but it sat collecting dust in the corner of her room. When she was 23 she moved out into her own place, just to feel more independence and let it collect more dust in the corner of her one bedroom place. But on her 27th birthday on the 10 year anniversary of her parents death.. she let her fingers strum a single cord. The vibrations sending chills down her spine. It felt like it was meant to be. 

Gradually, Lennon has gotten back into music, playing small gigs here to there to curb her appetite for the spotlight. In the meantime she serves at the boiler room to make ends meet and tries to still let the light in when she dances barefoot in her apartment. Through all the darkness she still find a light. However, with light there is still dark. In fact, pitch black. Lennon deals with a substance abuse issue- her crutch of sort. She feels like a cliche but it’s the only thing that drowns out the pain some nights. Never letting anyone close enough to risk losing them again- keeping a steady flow of have high have sane. Sometimes you never know which Lennon you’re gonna get. 

&. WANTED CONNECTIONS

best friend

childhood friends

socialite friends

neighbor

exes

new fling

protective friends

cousin

older brother

enemies

someone who is only friends with her because they know her secret

sister

these are just some ideas. but you can find more on his musing blog here and my connections page with all taken connections here.

[yeonchi]

A lady tried to enter my car today. OK, not really, but this is going to highlight an issue.

I was driving with my mum and I got to the end of the street when the lady was standing around near the bus stop. While I was looking for cars on the right before turning left, I heard the passenger side window open; my mum had opened it because the lady approached the car.

The lady asked us if we could take her to the shopping centre because she missed the last bus and the next one was an hour away. I declined and went on, having known the dangers of picking up hitchhikers and also I wasn't headed to the shopping centre anyway (until later). As I drove, I thought that I could have suggested that she walk about 3-4 stops up the road, or hell, just walk to the shopping centre anyway since by research, it would be faster than waiting for the next bus, but the road was fairly hilly and it might have been a bit ableist to suggest such a thing to a middle-aged lady.

Ironically, last week, a lady in my area was carjacked by a guy and forced to drive around buying MacBooks while he held her child hostage. With the resurgence of crime being reported in the news in Victoria (youth crime and violence against women among the prominent categories, another reason why I think Dictator Dan being reelected in 2022 was mostly because of pandemic Stockholm/Melbourne Syndrome), my suggestion to drivers is to keep your doors locked when you're in your car. If you're in a situation like with the lady who missed her bus, then I hope you know what you can do or who you can call otherwise you're screwed and I'll be damned if I'm letting a stranger in my fucking car. I'm not an Uber, goddamn it.

The main issue I wanted to highlight here is something that people have complained already, namely the lack of adequate public transport services on weekends. Most bus routes run services every hour on weekends, with the orbital SmartBus routes running every half hour. The bus timetables in my area haven't changed since 2012 and the routes even longer than that. Someone on Blogspot has written a series on Building Melbourne's Useful Network, suggesting changes to routes in the hopes of getting them to run every 20 minutes. Overhauling the bus system is going to take time, but I hope to see small things happening sooner rather than later.

[storiesfromthevet]

One of my favorite stories, from when I was answering the phone at a clinic starts like this:

“Hello, this ABC Vet Clinic speaking, how can I help you?”

“RODNEY?”

“No ma’am, this is ABC Vet office.”

“TONY?”

“I’m sorry you may have the wrong number this is storiesfromthevet at the ABC Vet Clinic.”

“JACKSON????”

At this point the name Jackson rang a bell since we were supposed to have a Jackson come in for a vaccine appointment but they had missed their scheduled appointment, so I asked, “Are you calling to reschedule Jackson’s appointment today?”

“RESCHEDULE? RESCHEDULE!? I NEED TO MAKE A FUCKING APOINTMENT!”

“Oh ok when would you like to come in then?”

“COME IN? YOU WANT ME TO COME IN? WITH COVID, I AM A IMMUNOCOMPROMISED INDIVIDUAL, AND YOU WANT ME TO COME IN????”

At this point in time almost all covid restrictions have been lifted, but I understood her concern (but not the yelling) so instead I suggested, “We do drop offs as well, we can pick your pet up from you car without interacting with you at all and talking to exclusively on the phone, including taking a card number to pay for the visit.”

“YOU THINK I HAVE A CAR? WHO DO YOU THINK I AM? I CAN’T DO THAT!”

“Well the doctor also does home visits but those typically run more expensive.”

“YOU WANT ME TO TELL YOU WHERE I LIVE????”

At this point I was running out of suggestions, short of her taking a taxi and doing a drive by while she throws her dog out the window I did not know what she expected us to do. After some back and forth that included many cures words, continues screaming and many other problems, finally we decided she would come in next Friday. So I started to take her information, which may seem like an expected innocuous task, but was my next mistake.

“Have you been here before?”

“HAVE I? HAVE I BEEN HERE BEFORE? ARE YOU STUPID, I’M YOUR BEST CUSTOMER, A REGULAR, I’VE BEEN COMING HERE FOR TEN YEARS! HOW DO YOU NOT KNOW WHO I AM???”

I’ve only worked there for a year but still, I know most the regulars at this point, “I’m sorry ma’am I’m pretty new, let me look you up in the system can I get your name?”

“YOU SHOULD KNOW MY NAME! I’M GLORIA SEINFEILD AND I’VE BEEN COMING HERE FOR 10 YEARS!”

At this point I’m tired of this conversation and frustrated I can’t find her in the system, “I’m sorry, you said Gloria Seinfield, I’m having difficulty finding that, can you maybe spell your name for me?”

“HOW DO YOU NOT KNOW HOW TO SPELL GLORIA, IT’S GLORIA, SEINFIELD!”

“Can you maybe give me your phone number instead?”

“ARE YOU AN IDIOT? 111-111-1111!”

I still can’t find it, sometimes people have their pets under their spouses or child’s account so instead I ask, “What is your pet’s name and type?”

“SPOT! i CANNOT BELIEVE THIS I’VE BEEN COMING HERE FOR 10 YEARS AND YOU DON’T EVEN HAVE MY INFORMATION, THIS IS ABSOLUTELY LUDICROUS, YOU ARE TRIGGERING MY PROBLEMS I HAVE SEVER HEART PROBLEMS AND CAN’T WALK LONG DISTANCES AND DUE TO MY ULCER...”

She starts going on a rant, after trying to ask for her name again, other possible numbers, and a bunch more arguing I switch gears, “I’m going to make you a temporary account for now, and then when you get here we will solve the problem, sorry for the inconvenience this will only take a moment.”

“YEAH WHATEVER, THIS IS JUST GIVING ME MORE ANXIETY, YOU KNOW THE ANXIETY I HAVE FROM,” and at this point I’m going to be honest I had checked out but I just checked back in for this second which I was completely unprepared for, “WHEN THE NUNS BEAT ME IN CATHOLIC SCHOOL. OH YEAH THEY WOULD JUST FLIP UP MY SKIRT AND WHUP ME, OR BREAK A RULER ACROSS MY HANDS AND-”

As it happens the vet was busy in the back doing other things with turned on the vacuum “IS THAT A HELICOPTER???”

“No ma’am that is the vacuum cleaner.”

“ARE YOU SURE IT’S NOT A HELICOPTER?”

“Yes very ma’am, I’m actually all done now.”

“You know what I just realized I changed my name after I left my husband, the account was under Lena Smith.”

I just froze, it wasn’t just about all that yelling, cursing and arguing, I just didn’t understand who changes their first name as well? I did find her account, which hadn’t been active in five years, and scheduled an appointment for Friday. Most of the staff heard her on the phone and we were curious to see her in person. She never showed up for her appointment, didn’t answer subsequent phonecalls, and we never heard from her again, at least not while I worked there.

[silas-writes13]

Stones

My dearest sunken stone,

Someone once said that “A man takes his sadness down to the river and throws it in the river/but then he’s still left with the river.” They said, “A man takes his sadness and throws it away/but then he’s still left with his hands”. This struck many readers as profound, as something interesting about the human condition. He puts his sadness down, right? But he’s still left with his hands. 

He is still left with himself, or the façade of self, or the miasma of cells he calls a name and claims to be, and what then? What if he puts all of that down instead, everything he thinks he is, all of his names and faces and his somatosensory system and then he is nothing anymore. 

What if he watches it all float down the river, bumping against slick lichen-encrusted rocks he used to scale as a child, or what if it sinks to the bottom like so many lost things, nestled forever against keys, bottles, rings, witching stones? What then? Is he defined by the negation of self? Physical form and identifiers shed, is he just the stained glass mosaic of what he loved in life? Or would he look into the muddy water and see his love, too  - the way-too-sugary-but-hey-you’re-only-young-once strawberry soda bought and consumed on a raucous, hot, teenage summer day, the attic, unfurnished, equally buried in dust and nails, empty save for boxes, and a beanbag, and the window, and him? 

In the reflection of the river and the answering surge of moss would he see himself sitting on his throne to watch his paramour, the blinking red radio tower light? 

Would anyone else understand if they found these things at the bottom of a river or would he just have to sit there, waiting, until the answering call of a red breasted robin woke him up? 

He could sit by the banks forever, nonexistence permitting, and watch a bumblebee buzz between flowers, flying upside down to drink the sickly-sweet pollen from the hanging bulbs. He could see a cardinal at a choice moment and a few more robins besides and decide to live. Feel the sun against his left cheek, feel the imprint of five distinctly human fingers sunkissed golden bronzed as they hold him, turn his chin up to the sky. He is awash then, with something, with everything. The rivers of his childhood are still there but the water’s different now, and so it goes. There are no phoenixes in his world but the normal birds will do, starlings, ravens, crows. He could come out here every day. He could feed his fears to the sacred flame, lay down his burden at the oak tree. He could drown in the ash. 

He could write nonsense and hope to get something out of it, or he could write nonsense for the sake of writing nonsense. 

Swallow the river water. Does it taste like the rain-damp bark of your childhood? Does it taste like the ants you saw crawling over the park bench? Does it taste like you’re still in love? Does it taste like Mary Oliver? Does it taste like home? 

Is there a point to this besides immortality - not immortality - but redefinition? 

You wish you could sift through the river and pick words like smooth river rocks and have them mean something, melodic and free. You wish, and in time shed your snakeskin and breathe anew. You still write even though he is different now even though you are gone. Not gone, changed. Not changed, reborn. Not hidden, just waiting to be found. 

Look up. Red leaves. Red-yellow-orange-green apple-colored leaves. Think of an apple. Not the fruit. Think of words. New ones. Words like sugar on the tongue like lead in the stomach. Words like the neighbor’s lamb’s ear plant. Words like the distant blinking light only visible from the loneliest window in the house Abstracted. Refracted. Not far but not close, not anymore. Is the feeling gone, or changed. 

Many multitudes milling. All new, all old, same as it ever was. Coherence leaves but does it matter if the feeling maintains? Damn. He’s never been in love. He’s been in love every day of his life. He’s been in the life, baby, in the life. 

A river is a portrait of a madman and shouldn’t you have guessed by now? 

A myth wanders down to the river and drowns its staying-power and becomes mortal. A myth wanders. Wand’ring home. Say it that way. Say it the old way. Don’t poison it with your modern tongue, your ignorance. Ducks love rivers just the same, doesn’t matter if the war’s done. Lost and found and changed irrevocably. You’re the only store in town. Rocks unbroken. 

I found you at the bottom of the river and damn if that isn’t poetic. Come by sometime? 

Love, 

Silver 

[contentone3]

Curtains in Bangalore-Window Curtains in Bangalore-Curtains Dealers

Introduction

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Shades can add a touch of class to any room and not just control your light and privacy. some tips gathered to help you choose your curtains according to the type of room where they will be installed. Curtains are often used to create partitions, especially in hospitals. Businesses and companies use them for special purposes or for specific purposes. Curtains are common names, which include fireproof curtains, biodegradable curtains, bioactive curtains, shower curtains, eco-friendly curtains and mobile home systems. Generally speaking, curtains can be defined as a fabric that divides the house into different areas. In hospitals, the diagnostic process is used to transport patients to the intensive care unit and to facilitate simple medical treatment. Curtains Bangalore provides all kind of Zebra Blinds in Bangalore, Zebra Blinds Dealers in Bangalore, and Karnataka. We Deal with Bamboo, PVC, Roller, Zebra Blinds, etc.

Description

Curtains are offered by almost all manufacturers in different colors and styles to match the interior of the room where the curtains are used. Fabric specifications and compliance with state government flame retardant regulations should be checked before ordering curtains.

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Overview

The fabric shower curtains are usually treated with water repelling coatings to help prolong the life of the fabric of the shower curtain. When you choose a textile shower curtain you should also add a new shower curtain liner to protect the fabric from the direct spray of the shower. Manufacturers realize how important and the big impact that shower curtains have on the bathroom's decor, that's why they will offer fabric shower curtains, vinyl curtains right up to very special high quality brand name designed shower curtains. These shower curtains will range from the ability to match your living room curtains or your favorite bedding comforter or even your bathrobe. In today's market the shower curtain possibilities are endless and only restricted to your imagination. Curtains can blend into your room, or you can choose to make it stand out or contrast. Revive the beauty? No problem, just choose the right new curtains. Curtains can also have different trims and edges to choose from other colors in the room. Buttons can be added to pallets, strings can be added to the edge or edge, as a separate trim. Curtains offer many possibilities on Scope for design.

With many tedious working parts or clips, blinds tend to be less reliable curtains and rails or poles. Combine curtains with good, reliable curtains music or post may be a more useful option; especially since the price of the curtain has been greatly reduced since the introduction of ready-made and displayed curtains work. And if your needs change, you can hang new curtains and your train or post is there.

Fabric is the first choice for shower curtains, followed by vinyl curtains. If you are looking for a shower curtain treatment that uses silk, cotton, wool, or linen, shower curtain designs will meet your needs. This unique shower curtain is available in a wide variety of colors, styles, and even patterns for any occasion or the new look you are looking for. By adding a new shower curtain, you'll add a great touch to your bathroom decor that will match any bathroom window curtain, rug, rug, and even a basket and books. Shower curtains are often used with waterproofing to help extend their life of the shower curtain. When choosing a shower curtain, you should also install a new shower curtain to protect the fabric from direct showering.

Manufacturers understand the importance and great impact of shower curtains in bathroom decor, so they offer shower curtains, and vinyl curtains to a special high-quality of shower name. This shower curtain will be available by being able to match your favorite curtains or duvet or even a bath mat. In today's market, the possibilities for shower curtains are endless and limited to your imagination.

Window coverings range from breathable, translucent Italian gauze to heavy fabrics that are ideal for preventing light and heat. The right opacity depends on your needs - whether you want to turn on a bright light, give some privacy, or make your sleep stop from street lamps that are brighter than the sun. We classify the screen as bright, medium opaque, and blackouts, which usually prevents heat.

Conclusion

The point is at the top of the curtain, where the fabric meets the curtain rod, and its style depends on how the curtain is made and determines how it is hung. Typically, curtains are hung directly above the curtain rod using hooks, loops, or eyelets, or hung slightly below using cords, curtain hooks, or it's a curtain pin. Many pocket curtains also have a tab on the back, which can be attached directly to the rod or threaded onto a curtain hook. The hook will take a little time to install, but placing the curtain on the hook more directly on the rod can help it open and close faster.

Coatings vary in cleanliness, damage from ultraviolet rays, oil and dust retention, sound insulation, fire resistance and service life. Curtains can be operated manually, with cords, through push buttons or remotely controlled computers. The distance from the window is controlled by the curtain rod. The measurement of the necessary curtain size for each window varies depending on the type of curtain needed the size of the window, and the type and weight of the curtain.

[umbrahighpriestofgiratina]

Hello! This is the latest installment in my Snippets series, (collections of drabbles from my playthroughs of mainline Pokemon games) and this one's special - the Violet run I was doing this off of was my first Nuzlocke kinda sorta - you can see the rules here, and the original run here. Obviously having played or watched a playthrough of either Pokemon Scarlet or Pokemon Violet would be ideal. 

Also! This stars one of my non-Pokemon OCs, Vaespar, who you can read about here and here. 

As for feedback preferences:

-These are not full-blown journey fics, and were never meant to be. Don't review them like they're supposed to be or need to be. 

-Don't complain when things are disconnected or don't have much context because I was literally writing these things on the fly as I was playing. If you want more context I linked to the original run. 

-Overall just be nice. I'm not looking for super academic feedback on these, I just want people to have fun reading them. 

These will either be posted all in one go or in installments, or in multiple installments, depending on the place. For places where I'm doing the former, just enjoy the fic; for places where I'm doing the latter expect updates every week or so until it's done (if things don't veer wildly off course).

Anyway here we go into: 

Violet Snippets: The Sorceror's New School

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

"Choose a look for yourself."

What? Why were they asking him this? None of these... Children looked like him.

And where was he anyway? Some kind of void? Where had he been sealed away to THIS time? 

He sighed and picked the least objectionable child. 

"What is your name?"

What? The being asking these questions didn't know who he is? He is the great and mighty Vaespar!

The void was asking him to change the look of the child. Vaespar pondered. Perhaps he could make it look more like him....

He meticulously messed with the child's form - hair, eyes, face - until he was satisfied. Still, he didn't know what this was even for. 

Wait. An enrolment form? An academy? This didn't make sense! What was this now, some commercial for the academy? Ridiculous. And who were this girl? This old man?

Paldea? Is THAT where he was at? It needed work on how to bring in tourists like him. 

Wait... Pokemon? Wasn't that... No. It couldn't be. 

WAIT! IT WAS! THAT'S- wait, that's not a Pikachu. 

More familiar Pokemon... Wait, what was up with that Tauros?

And what was that flying creature? CreatURES?

Suddenly. He came to. He was in a room. He looked down at himself, at the reflection in the window, to see he was now the child. 

...What was going on here?

-----------

Arceus stared aghast at his computer. 

<Well. I imported the wrong file! Now where DID I put the right file...>

He started slowly searching through the computer's hard drive.

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

-----

Vaespar What a world Vaespar had dropped into. He had been given a Fuecoco he dubbed Louis (a useful ally, keep him around), been dragged around this strange, oddly old-Earth Spanish landscape by a very excitable, very violent girl named Nemona, lectured by an irritable boy named Arven, and discovered a strange dragon of great power named Miraidon (another useful ally to keep around). He collected various other Pokemon in his journey, usually the first ones he found in any given location, but he had one problem - he held stricter standards for any that were not his twin generals Louis and Miraldon, and unlike the generals falling in battle was something worthy of some sort of punishment. Then the woman at one of the places known as Pokemon Centers activated a Poke Portal that contained Surprise Trade - an app that could hurtle any Pokemon off into the unknown and substitute a new one in its place. Perfect. He immediately tested it on Oates - a piglike Pokemon known as Lechonk - and got a puppy Pokemon called Rockruff in his place, who he dubbed Lang. Yes... This system had potential. At the very least it'd mix things up. 

-----

Louis

Louis always wanted to be a musician. He held up at the academy, waiting for the day he could journey with a Trainer and find his musical spirit... and Vaespar walked into his life to make that happen. 

Sure Vaespar could be a little... Strict, and... Temperamental.... And yes, he could be unfair to the rest of the team so to speak... 

...But hey pobody's nerfect, right?

------

Lang

Lang could smell trouble when he found it. He had the spirit of the wolf. He could smell the spirits of others. So he knew when someone was bad news, and Vaespar had that smell all over him. But he knew trouble attracted more trouble, and he'd heard about a Team Star causing problems to humans and Pokemon. Perhaps if Vaespar could help him bust those punks he'd be a good partner. 

...So long as Vaespar didn't get tired of him first. 

------

Miraidon

Goodness! What a day! First he had escaped from the Crater and was in grave peril, then some brave human boy had saved him by offering the most delicious food! A sandwich he called it... He'd willingly stick around this Vaespar if he could get more!

...Vaespar was a little... rough around the edges, sure, but he seemed to have SOME degree of respect for him... I could fix him!

...Maybe. Possibly. Potentially. If his calculations were correct. 

-------

Vaespar stood regarding the woman before him. A rotund baker woman who commanded BUGS? Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous. She'd be squashed in no time. 

He sent out Louis. She sent out. A strange cricket like Pokemon. Measly. "C'mon Vaespar, our first gym battle, let's do thi-" Louis started to say before the cricket Double Kicked him. 

Vaespar chuckled. "A futile effort. Louis, Ember."

Louis breathed fire onto the cricket, knocking it out. It was replaced by a Tarountula, which Vaespar scoffed at. "Ember again."

The Tarountula was also burnt into submission. "We're on a roll Vaespar!" said Louis. Then the baker lady sent out a Teddiursa. Vaespar rauised an eyebrow. "That's not a bu-"

It promptly Terastalized, giving it curly antennae. Oh right. Pokemon could do that here. 

It Fury wiped Louis and Vaespar laughed it off. Then as Louis used another Ember it used Fury Cutter. 

"Oof, that was a bad vi-" Louis started to say. Then a Fury Cutter again and he was done. "What? Impossible! Lang!" Vaespar yelled, sending out the Rockruff. 

"Heh, you've messed with the wrong pack!" said Lang. He Terasta;lized himself and prepared to strike- 

Fury Cutter again. Lang fainted. Vaespar balked. 

"S-Stormsurge!"

The Pikachu was sent out. "Come on man! You can't just-"

Another Fury Cutter. Another mon down. But Stormsurge's Static paralyzed the Teddiursa, creating an opportunity. 

"F-Furby!:

The Jigglypuff was sent out and gazed at the Teddiursa with her big, soulful eyes. "R E S T   N O W  C H I L D"

A Disable. The Teddiursa flinched, unable to use its Fury Cutter blades. Furby smacked it over the hed with a Pound, finally knocking ot out!

"Well now!" said the baker woman. "Congratulations! That was a well fought victor-"

She was interrupted by Vaespar's frustrated scream of rage. 

Afterwards he told every mon involved that they were exempt from his "rules" here. He would never admit someone had gotten away with tactics that low against him and succeeded. 

-----------

Vaespar had finally found it: a massive, massive crab. People said that crabs were the ultimate life form, the end goal of evolution. Nonsense. That was him. 

The giant Klawf's eyes snapped in his direction, as if hearing these thoughts, and jumped down to face him. Vaespar sent out Primadonno the Quaxly who scoffed and rubbed his pompadour. 

"Make this quick will you? I don't want to ruffle my feathers too much." The crab Blocked Primadonno from escaping, but he did not fuss as he launched Aqua Jet after Aqua Jet into the Klawf past its Rock Smashes. Eventually the Klawf seemed to give up, and ran away. 

"Hey! Get back here!" said Vaespar. "I still need to make king crab legs out of you!"

He pursued the Klawf to the bottom of a cliff, where it broke the cliff open to reveal a strange herb it started to eat. It was then Arven rushed onto the scene. "Is that the Herba Mystica? No Klawf has any business getting that big!"

"That Klawf is a big pain in the rear is what it is!" said Vaespar. 

The Klawf finished dating the herb and glowed with a surge of pink energy as it turned to face the pair. 

"Well this is looking a little rough." said Arven. "Shellder, let's serve up a helping of defeat - on the half shell!"

"I would kill anyone else for a pun that bad," said Vaespar. Arven ignored him and sent out a Shellder. Vaespar sent out Louis. According to the books in the school there was a type disadvantage sure, but if he could whittle the crab down...

"Let's rumba!" said Louis,biting the crab repeatedly with multiple Bites. The crab responded with Rock Tombs, knocking out both Louis and the Shelter. 

"Bluster! Poisonpowder!"

"Wheeeeeeeee" said Bluster as he sprayed poison spores all over the Klawf. The crab gagged and then hit Bluister with another Rock Tomb, knocking her out. Vaespar scoffed. Another team member he ought to replace. He sent out Primadonno again. "You don't learn your lesson do you?" said Primadonno. "Terastalize! Aqua Jet!" said Vaespar. "He activated his Tera Orb as Primadonno sprouted a hat and gained a crystalline sheen, then slammed into the Klawf with great watery force. The Klawf fell over, defeated. 

Afterwards Primadonno glowed - brightly enough that Vaespar briefly saw double - and grew into a newer, taller form. 

"Ah, now I have even more style!"

Vaespar grinned. Yes... this would come in handy... -----------------

An artist, huh? Bah. The only art piece this Brassius chump would get out of Vaespar is a portrait of defeat. 

Louis was standing against Brassius' Petilil. He did a little jig to get himself pepped up, Terastalizing in the process. . "Let's dance!" he said, as he weathered Petilil in the flames of an Incinerate. This made short work of the Petilil. Braassius sent out a Smoliv and the same thing happened to it. Brassius then sent out a Sudowoodo, which he promptly Terastalized. Vaespar panicked. Would this cause devastation to his team again?

"I can do that too!" said Louis, letting out yet another Incinerate. The Sudowoodo barely hung on and hit him with a Trauilblaze, causing it to move... Faster? Vaespar panicked further. "Take it down!" The Sudowooodo slammed Louis with rocks in a Rock Throw. Vaespar's heart was racing. Then Louis let out a final Incinerate and the Sudowoo's Terastilization shattered as it collapsed. 

"Yeah! Music to my ears!" said Louis. 

Vaespar sighed in relief. He had nothing to worry about.  

---------

Vaespar After the Grass gym had been vanquished Vaespar went back to Mezagoza to prepare for his next destination, the Flying Titan Arven had marked on his map. In the meantime he caught up on classes at Uva Academy to glean strategic information on this Pokemon dimension he had ended up in. In history class he learned one useful tidbit in particular: Of an empire and emperor in search of a powerful force in the crater. The crater was forbidden to students, but if he could secure a way in...

He also learned something far more concerning in history class however. Of a hero known as Evithyan who saved the Hisui region - now known as Sinnoh. Could it be... No. She was dead. He had devoured her. ...But perhaps he should still look into this. 

------

Primadonno

Primadonno was initially a bit concerned when he had been handed off from his old Trainer Dieggo to this Vaespar. He didn't LOOK like he had any pomp or circumstance. But Vaespar so far had proved to have a sound strategic mind, and had even gotten Primadonno to evolve, so perhaps he wasn't all that bad. 

..Just hopefully he wouldn't be handed off AGAIN.

----- Stormbolt

Stormbolt was one of a select line of Pikachu handed off to Trainers for a special event, and he had been handed off to Vaespar. He was a little concerned with Vaespar's ruthless nature, but there was a challenge to beat Flying types up ahead. He'd shine in that. 

...Right?

----

Denny

Denny the Flamigo was handed off to Vaespar in Surprise Trade and wasn't sure what to do. This was a new team, with new rules, that he wasn't sure if he could fulfill, and he had seen no battle time yet. 

But just hanging around with Vaespar and his team was making him stronger, he could feel it. Perhaps soon he would have time to shine. 

-----

Vaespar was staring down the second biggest stork he had ever seen. He knew what birds were like. This one could be a major threat. He'd have to be careful. 

"Louis, Incinerate this fool!" 

"You got it!" said Louis, sending hellish flames in the bird's direction. The bird responded by Plucking at Louis with its beak. The two went back and forth until Louis went down. In response Vaespar sent out Lang. "We've got an oversized poultry problem, huh?" said Lang. The bird seemed insulted by this and hit lang with another Pluck. Lang held on and Threw A rock at its head, forcing the bird to retreat to a cliffside. Like the Klawf before it, it broke open the cliff and began eating something inside. 

It was then Arven arrived. "Vaespar! You managed to get to the Titan somehow, huh?"

"Somehow your directions were adequate," said Vaespar. "Ha ha. So that's the Open Sky Titan... Wait, is this Titan what's been dropping all these boulders?"

"Me and Miraidon had an interesting time with those earlier."

"I was lucky enough to sneak up here because it had all its attention on you little bud!"

"Don't call me little."

"Okay fine. Anyway the Titan looks like it's trying to power itself up. Like with some kinda mystical Meal Power or something. So we'd better be ready to go all out!"

The bird flew over to challenge them again. Arven sent out a Nacil, and Vaespar sent out Stormbolt. "Stormnbolt, Terastalize! Electro Ball!"

"All right!" said Stormbolt. "Let's g-"

Wing Attack. He was down. Fuck. He sent out Primadonno in a desperate fumbling of Pokeballs as Arven's Nacil pummeled the bird with rocks. "Aqua Jet!"

"I do hate cleaning up messes," said Primadonno. He lunged at his fellow avian with a bolt of water, just as the bigger bird Plucked him. But then Arven's Nacil Smacked it Down with another rock, and Vaespar saw an opportunity. 

He quickly fed a Revive to Louis just as Primadonno got Plucked again, and then swapped the two. The bird Plucked the Nacil, and then moved to Pluck Louis when - 

Smack Down.

And it stayed down. Vaespar sighed in relief. Maybe, possibly, he should be nicer to Arven. 

----

What was with this car? Vaespar thought. It was as if it were... Alive.

No matter. He was up against a Pawniard. And everyone knows what you do with pawns. 

"Louis, Incinerate!"

"You think you've got the tunes?" said Louis. "You've got another thing coming!"

Flames danced to the beat around the Pawniard atop the car. It tried to retaliate with an Aireal Ace, but to no avail. Up next came... The truck? Damn it. Vaespar KNEW it was alive. "Woah! Your car moves to its own tune!" Louis said as he let out another Incinerate. The car - a Revaroom apparently - retaliated with a Metal Sound and a Snarl, taking Louis out. Vaespar knew he had to be careful. He sent out Primadonno. "That is the most garish car I have ever seen!" said Primadonno, before swiping at it with a Low Sweep. The Revaroom retaliated with more Metal Sounds and Snarls but Primadonno held on. "Now!" said Vaespar, recalling Priimadonno and sending out Denny, Terastalizing him in the process. The Revaroom shot Swifts at Donny in resistance but it was too late - one Low Kick sent him sputtering. "Wow... I did it! I DID IT!" said Denny. "Yes!" said Vaespar. "I love a successful conquest."

--------

Vaespar Getting rid of Stormbolt after his failure, surprisingly to Vaespar, hurt. 

It hurt more after Arven told him his story. Unlocked the most fragile remnants of empathy left in his heart. 

He thought of it while traveling. Thought of it white fighting the Dark Crew, even as he passed that with flying colors. Especially thought of it when one of Team Star's generals talked about being a gang of friends who valued each other. He had for millenia thought of such emotions as childish, outdated, unnecessary. He was trying to convince himself he still did. 

But although he had found other Pokemon to take Stormboilt's place. A Smoliv named Olivia, a Tadbulb named FROGGE, directly from the Suprise Trade in place of Stormbolt a Bonsly named Plant - but he had to wonder. Were his methods worth it?

----------

Olivia

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa what was olivia doing here she wound up in a weird crystal den with the power of flight and she found these trainers and one of them caught her and he seems scaryand she is not sure what to do and she is very small and aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

----------

FROGGE FROGGE IS STRONG. FROGGE IS MIGHTY. THE MIGHTIEST TADBULB EVER TO TAD BULB. VAESPAR LEFT HIM IN THE BOX, BUT CAME CRAWLING BACK, SO FROGGE WILL PROVE TO HIM WHAT IS UP! DEFINITELY!

...HOPEFULLY

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

Vaespar

Vaespar journeyed off to the city where the Electric gym was - he couldn't bother to remember the name - and was briefly stopped near the Fire Crew base where Clavell - er, Clive - filled him in on more of Team Star's situation. He then maneuvered with Miraidon around a Team Star barricade to reach the city, where Nemona challenged him again (and lost handily) and the Gym Leader Iono subjected him and Clavell to a bizzare gauntlet of tasks for "subscribers". Vaespar knew Iono's chaotic energy was not to be underestimated, and so started putting his Pokemon through grueling training, which led to Lang evolving. Eventually they would beat her...

---------

This "streamer" was certainly something else. 

For her "livestream" she'd sent out a strange bird called a Wattrel, who was up against Lang. Lang scoffed. 

"You don't mess with my pack."

He launched an Accelrock from his mane. It knocked the bird out of the air with ease. Next came a Bellibolt, which Vaespar wasn't as sure how to handle.

"Hm. Olivia!"

The Dolliv was sent out, figeting nervously.

"Oh, uh, um, aaaaaaaa"

She threw a volley of Seed Bombs at the Bellibolt. But the Bellibolt hung on and Vaespar knew he needed a new strategy.

...Which was sending Lang out for more Accelrocks, which did the trick.

Next was a Luxio. Vaespar pondered, then sent out Louis.

"This stream needs some groovy tunes!"

He sung some Incinerate flames into existence, which powered through the Luxio's Sparks and took it out. 

Next was a Mismagius, which Terastalized into an electric type. Vaespar knew there was only one solution: An all-out attack.

"Burn it to the ground Louis!"

Louis terastalized as well. But the Mismagius had already cast a Confuse Ray. Louis was teetering in a daze, burning himself with his own flames.

"NO! Louis, come on..."

The Mismagius blasted Louis with Hexes. Vaespar sprayed a Hyper Potion, but Louis was still in a dizzy state.

"Louis, snap out of it, I command you!"

And then Louis did.

"Sorry about that, let's get this show back on the road!"

His onslaught of flame continued. The Mismagius tried to counter with more Confuse Rays and Hexes but it was too late. 

It went down.

Vaespar pumped a fist and yelled "Yes!". Iono's subscribers better have liked THAT. 

--------

Vaespar

Vaespar had just scored a decisive victory against the mystifying streamer Iono and her demon Mismagius, with no casualties. He was feeling good about himself. He went to train in the hills outside the city, encountered a strange tumbleweed Pokemon he caught and named Sundown...

...And lost FROGGE in the process. 

Cursing to himself, Vaespar tossed FROGGE away on Surprise Trade, and got a Mudbray named Mudb1 in its place. Feeling she'd be useful for his purposes Vaespar started training her in FROGGE's stead - he had passed the Fire Crew on the wayu to coming here, of course, and knew they needed dealing with next...

----------

Mudb1

Uh, Mudb1 wasn't sure what she was doing here, or who this Vaespar guy was, but she was trying her darn best. Vaespar was giving her lots of different opponents to fight, in preparation for fighting a "Fire Crew". This was Mudb1's chance to prove herself, and she was going to take it head-on. 

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

This woman seemed determined to kill him. She was atop her Revaroom, glaring down at Vaespar, a Torkoal at her side, its Drought casting down sunny rays. 

Thankfully Vaespar had Lang. "You ruffians will never escape the laws of this land!" said Lang. "Accelrock!" said Vaespar. 

Lang launched sharp rocks from his mane. It barely made a dent? That thing's shell must be TOUGH. Sure enough, it slammed that flaming shell into Lang with a Flame Wheel. Wait. Lang's mane was on fire. He was burnt. "Shit- Rock Tomb!"

"I'm not... going down that easy..." said Lang, burying the Torkoal in rocks. The Torrkoal launched itself from the pillar of rocks with another Flame Wheel, slamming into Lang again. "A-Accelrock!"

Langh fired more rocks from his mane. The Torkoal went down. But then the Revaroom surged forward to attack. Lang was weak, and one of Varespar's more valuable servants. He couldn't risk him falling here. Then he got an idea. A risky gambit to be sure, but if it paid off...

"Lang, return! Go Louis!"

If Louis could just bide time... 

"Bring it, ugly car!" said Louis. The Revaroom slammed into him, with a Blazing Tourqe. It didn't do much, but it started moving... Faster? Shiot. Speed Boost. "Loius, Round!"

Louis pulled out a trumpet and began playing sweet tunes. The Revaroom tried to screech in response, but the only thing that was drowned out was the Torkoal's Drought. "Yes! Louis, keep playing!" And keep playing Louiis did, until the Revaroom's Blazing Tourqes finally took him out. 

"NOW!  Primadonno, Terastalize!"

"Louis was right. This IS an ugly car."

The crystalline sheen enveloped him as a fancy hat grew on his head. "Aqua Jet!"

Primadommo rammed into the Revaroom with a burst of water, and it Screeched in pain. Primadonno kept it up even as it hit him with Blazing Tourqes. Finally, one caused the Revaroom to crumple in pain. Vaespar smirked. His gamble had paid off. 

-----------

Vaespar and Louis were face-to-face with a rather large worm. "That is a rather large worm," said Vaespar. "Sure is!" said Louis. "...Burn it," said Vaespar. "On it!" said Louis. He spat Incinerating flames at the worm even as it tried to hit him with its head and tail. The flames were too much for the massive beast and it retreated into a cave. "Get back here you wiggly beast!" said Vaespar as he chased after it. 

He pursued the woprm on Miraidon through the cave, up the sand dunes, until he cornered it in front of a large cliff. "Oh dear," said Miraidon. "I do believe I know what's coming..."

"No shit," said Vaespar. "Get ready!"'

Sure enough, the worm broke open the cliff and began eating a strange herb. Right on cue Arven showed up. "Vaespar! You managed to pin down the Titan?"

Vaespar rolled his eyes. "Once again long before you did."

"This is no time to brag!" said Arven. He looked upon the worm. "THAT'S the Lurking Steel Titan? It's... uh, well, it sure is long!" 

"Very."

"I think our little friend might be even feistier now after eating those herbs! We're gonna need to do this together Vaespar!"

Vaespar sighed. "If you insist."

Sure enough, the worm glowed with power after munching enough from the herb. Louis was accompanied by a... Toedscool? As they both faced off in battle against it. 

"Burn it again!" said Vaespar. "Twice sure is nice!:" said Louis. 

He bathed the worm in flames as the beast recoiled, and the Supersonic from the Toedscool caused it to flail further. It used a last-ditch Iron Tail to take out the Toedscool, but it was too late. Another Incinerate caused it to roll over in defeat. 

"Alas poor worm," Vaespar muttered. 

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

Vaespar

After defeating the Fire Crew and Steel Titan - and learning more of Arven and Team Star's tales in the process - Vaespar headed to the city housing the Water gym. Unfortunately the gym leader had lost his wallet, forcing Vaespar to trek across an ENTIRE DESERT and REPEATEDLY GET LOST to return it. The nerve. Once he did return it he was forced to fight the gym leader's apprentice and win an auction in place of his normal gym test, which he won handily of course. He sensed the Gym Leader would be a tougher challenge and went to prepare...

During his prep he found a traveler who he accompanied across other parts of the region. The Traveller was also on the Treasure Hunt and was easily distractible but off to a good start, and they did multiple raids together. 

-----------

This was a very strange fish. 

It was long and pointy and toothy and - something about the way it floated was odd. Vaespar had an idea. 

"Louis, Bite it!"

"It probably tastes gross but OK!"

Louis Bit down onto it, doing it a sizable chunk of harm, but was knocked off by a Aqua Cutter that knocked him out. 

"Rrrgh... Primadonno! Cut it back!"

Primadonno was sent out and blinked. "That IS an ugly fish."

He repeatedly Slashed it with Air, the fish too staggered to resist, until it fell. A disgusting creature called a Wugtrio was next. Vaespar retched and sent out Olivia. "Oh! Um, what is that? Eek," she said. The thing slapped hear with a Butt of one of its heads, but she Bombed it with Seeds, obliterating it. Next was a Crabominable. A Water Tera Crabominable Vaespar considered his options carefully. "Olivia, Seed Bomb agai-"

Too late. The Crabominable had brought a fist down on her in a Rock Smash, knocking her out. Fuck. "Primadonno! Get it!"

"Well this is a pickle," said Primadonno as he was sent out. He Air Slashed the Crabominable again, only for it to Slam him unconscious. Fuck fuck fuck. "Denny! Terastalize! Double Kick!"

"I'll do my best!" said Denny. With a crystalline glow he started kicking the Crabominable repeatedly. But he didn't get many in before he was swatted away by a Crabhammer, knocking him out. Fuck fuck fuck FUCK. 

Vaespar had one last hope here. "Sundown!"

The tumbleweed was sent out. "You," he said. "Me?" said the Crabominable. "Draw.,"

He fired a barrage of Bullet Seeds. The Crabomable finally fell. Vaespar sighed in relief. He didn't think he'd make examples of any of his team here. This guy was tough.

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

Vaespar

After braving the tides of the Water Gym, and sparing his team the consequences because what the fuck, Varespar met up with the traveller again. They traded several Pokemon and caught several more in raids. Afterwards Varespar subjected his team to more of his intense training, upon which several of them evolved into new, wondrous, powerful forms - a Mudsdale, a Skeledirge, a Quaquaval, an Arboliva. 

It was then Vaespar fell upon an unsettling, horrifying realization. 

He was getting attached. 

No. He'd have to put that aside. Team Star's Poison crew was up ahead...

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

Cassopea was right, Vaespar thought. This Atticus sure was eccentric. I mean, sending a Skuntank at him of all things? No matter. There'd be a dead skunk in the middle of the road in no time. "Louis! Torch Song!"

"Ready for the fiery tune!"

Louis blew his trumpet and a blast of fire went out and scorched the Skuntank. The Skuntank responded by spraying Louis with noxious goo. Vaespar realized it was Toxic. He was on a timer. "Louis, again!"

The Skuntank Sucker Punched him, but Louis' flaming sound waves still pushed through and knocked it out. Once again, the Revaroom surged forward to take its place. 

...Except this was a smaller Revaroom. 

Vaespar knew Atticus was planning something, but knew he had to stay on course. "Louis, keep at it!"

Louis kept blaring his trumpet. The Revaroom's Assurance did nothing to stop the flames from taking it out. But the poison continued to eat at Louis. A Muk was sent out, only to be bathed in flame like those before. 

Then the REAL Revarroom came forth. Of course. It rammed Louis with a Noxious Tourqe, finally ending his song. Time for Vaespar's real plan to go into motion. "Mudb1! You're up!"

"Yeehaw! You messed with the wrong squad!" said Mudb1.

The Revaroom tried to Spin Out at Mudb1, but her High Horsepower countered it with incredible force."

"Ah, you see, my dear Team Star leader, the show has only just begun. MUDB1, TERASTALIZE!" Mudb1 shone with a crystal glow as she delivered another High Horsepower. The Revaroom tried to resist with another Spin Out, but it was promptly crushed under Mudb1's hooves. Vaespar smirked. All according to plan. 

-----------

Vaespar's team was chilling by the Medali Pokemon.Center. 

"Man, it's great we've made it this far with Vaespar!" said Louis. "Yes, uh, especially with his... rules...' said Olivia. "Why DOES he have those rules anyway?" said Denny. "No other pack I know of has laws like that, it's true..." said Lang. 

"He acts like he's... some kind of evil overlord from a fantasy story," said Primadonno. 

"But... He can't be, right?" said Mudb1. "He's just a kid!"

"...What's he even doing right now, anyway?" said Primadonno. Sure enough Vaespar had set up a corkboard that he was frantically adding to. 

"Oh that's his Conspiracy Board," said Lang. "He's updating it with new info about Team Star. Probably to put those goons in their place.:"

"Vaespar is, sure, uh, an enigma..." said Olvia. 

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

This Larry was professional. Almost too professional. Vaespar knew his Komala would be simple enough to deal with. "Louis! Bring the funky music!"

"On it!" said Louis. He brought out hisflaming trumpet for his signature move, which the Komala tried to Sujcker Punch out of his claws but failed to quench the flames.

Next was.. A giant Dunsparce? What was with its segments? Vaespar wasn't going to think too hard about this one. "Keep playing Louis!"

Louis sent a Flamethrower from its trumpet, but a Glare from the Dunsparce stopped him in his tracks. Shit. A Drill Run did not stand up to a Flamethrower however. 

Wait... Was that an audience? Cheering for Larry? Did his Staraptor just Terastalize and leave Louis on the edge? Oh no. This could be ba-

Oh. Louis' playing had taken out the Staraptor. Okay. Guess the Normal gym leader really was just a guy. 

"That was for Denny."

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

Vaespar

We lost Denny. 

It was during the Normal gym test. One of the contestants in that test had a Greedent , and that Greedent had Counter, and- 

He shouldn't be thinking about this. He had forged ahead up an icy mountain, finagling up its icy slopes with Miraidon, making their way all along to the next gym. He needed to forge onwar- 

We lost Denny. 

No, no, that was wrong. Denny was still there. In his boxes. He had elected not to trade him y tis time, he just couldn't use him and he traded a random Pachisru in his place for a Charcadet. That was \within the bounds ofhis own rules, right? He made the rul-

We lost Denny. It wasn't that big a deal right? They had made it through the normal gym fine. Sid the Arctibax proved to be a decent enough replacement. We lost Denny. 

...Why did he CARE. Denny was just another pawn. Expendable. Replaceable. He HAD been replaced even. ...What was going on?

--------

Sid

Sid the Arctbax knew he had some big shoes to fill. 

He knew he had been called in to replace a key team member of Vaespar's because of the rules the team had in place. But he was just a little guy. He had already gotten a bit stronger by evolving once but the other team members were also powerful. He had catching up to do. Catching up he knew he might not be able to complete. 

Why? Doesn’t anyone love him? Isn’t there anyone who cares about Sid the Arctibax?

-----------

Was this a gym battle or a rap battle? Vaespar wasn't sure. All he knew is Mudb1 and Louis were up against a Mimikyu and a Bannete. "Oh, Rhyme! I love her music!" said Mudb1. "Aye, I can appreciate a fellow musician!" said Louis. "You two, focus!" said Vaespar. "Mudb1, Heavy Slam on the Mimikyu and Louis, Shadow Ball the Banette with some hocus pocus!!"

The Bannete tried to Sucker Punch Louis but was smited by the Shadow Ball, and a Slash to Mudb1's side did not stop a Heavy Slam from breaking through the Miimiku's disguise. A strange doggo known as a Houndstone was sent out in the Bannete's place, but the crowd was now cheering for Vaespar. His Pokemon cheered as well in triumph, boosting their vigor. "Yes! I'm the one who reigns supreme! Deliver devastation to this other team!"

The Mimiky tried to Sneak its Shadow into Louis' face but Louis spat a Shadow Ball into the Hounstone's' own face, leaving it sprawling. The Mimikyu was then crushed by Mudb1's Heavy Slam. Next was a Toxicrity. Vaespar knew what was coming. "Keep up the chain!" said Vaespar. "And bring the pain!"

Her Toxicrity Terastalized, but it was too late - The combined force of the two attacks shattered its newfound power instantly. Vaespar cackled. "Looks like your performance just got panned, for I am the one with the master plan!"

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

A robot Donphan? That came from the Great Crater of Paldea? And it was a Titan here? Vaespar was very curious for his own means, but would comply with Turo's desire to subdue it. "Louis! You know what to do!"

"One Torch Song, coming up!"

Louis bellowed flames from his trumpet, which the Titan tried to swat away with a Knock Off, but could not subdure the flaming song. So it did the next best thing it could do: Rolled away. "Hey! Get back here weird robot! I - er, the professor needs to study you!" 

He pursued the creature on Miraidon ("goodness, that creature looks familiar") and sure enough it had broken open a cliff and was eating (how does such a creature eat?) a familiar herb. As usual Arven showed up. "Vaespar! Looks like you found yourself a Titan!"

"Yes and a doozy of a Titan too!" said Vaespar. 

Arven turned to look. "Wait... THAT's the Quaking Earth Titan? Uh... Is... Is that thing even a Pokemon?"

Vaespar shrugged.

Arven shook his head. "It must be trying to get pumped up with that little snack... Time to show that thing what me and you can do Vaespar!"

The Iron Treads turned around and glowed with energy. Louis got sent back out, along with Arven's... Scovillain? That was a new one. 

"Moire music Louis! With a Tera edge!"

Louis did so... but swung in a wide arc and hit the Scovillauin. "COME ON MAN!" said Arven. "...Oops," said Vaespar. "Louis, hit the right guy this time or there will be consequences!"

"Eep! On it!"

Louis bathed the Iron Treads in fire. It hit him back with a RApid Spin - how? Vaespar didn't have time to question this further before Louis took the beast out and it rolled away.

Darn. he was supposed to study that.

-----------

Vaespar

After delivering sick beats on MC Ryme's stage, Vaespar had confronted the mysterious Ground titan and was honestly still thinking about the latter. What WAS that thing? Why was Turo in particular so invested in its existence? Why did it resemble the creature from Arven's book?

Questions for later he supposed. After a very long and arduous journey he made it to the Psychic gym city, looked around at the architecture (including some mosaics which looked a bit familiar), fought Nempna again (and won handily) and survived jazzercise class. The Psychic Gym Leader was next... 

---------

Did this woman have... Moving wings on her dress?

No, Vaespar couldn't get distracted. He was up against... a Farigiraf? If it's related to Girafarig Louis' Ghost moves wouldn't do a thing... He needed a different strategy. "Louis, come back! Mudb1, you're up!"

Mudb1 took to the field and was greeted by a Crunch. This hardly phased her. "Ooh, teeny nibble! That tickles!"

"Earthquake!" said Vaespar. 

The Farigiraf tried to Zen Headbutt Mudb1 but she repeatedly stomped the ground, creating tremors that took the Farigiraf out. 

Next was a Gardevor. Vaespar knew he'd need Louis for this and swapped him in. 

"Louis, Shadow Ball!"

"One shady tune, coming right up!"

Louis blew into his trumpet and a large ball.of shadowy energy emerged to slam into the Gardevoir. The Gardevoir tried to assault him with Psychic energy in response but another Shadow Ball took it out of the picture. 

Next was... A bird? An Esparatha? Vaespar had encountered wild ones of these before... he figured he knew what to do. "Louis, keep up the Shadow Balls!"

Louis kept tooting Shadow Balls... but the bird got a Shadow Ball in on him before it went down. Louis was on his last legs. And now there was a Florges. A Tera Psychic Florges. Louis got one more Shadow Ball in on it before he was taken out. Vaespar had an idea... But it was a risky idea. Could he do this? 

"Lang! Go!" he said, sending out the Lycanroc. "That's one heck of a headpiece," said Lang. "Crunch it!"

Lang sunk his fangs into the Florges. Its crystal armor shattered, and it fell to the ground. Vaespar sighed in relief. Lang was safe. 

...Damn it, he was caring again. 

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

This Grusha guy thinks he's sooooooooooooooo tough. Vaespar would show him and his Frosmoth tough. 

"Louis! Your usual opening act!"

"Oh yeah! Get ready for a rootin' tootin good time!"

Louis's flaming Torch Song trumpet made short work of the Frosmoth. And the Beartic after it. But the... Cetitan after that managed to hold on and slam Louis with a Liquidation. Shit. 

"Keep at it!"

More flames did the Cetitan in. But next was an Altaria Vaespar had no doubt was Tera Ice. But Louis had to keep up the assault. 

"More music! MORE!"

"Oh yeeeeeeeeeeeeah!"

As the Altaria Terastalized, it blasted Louis with a Hurricane. Louis tripped, stumbled, Confused. But then his fiery sounds reached a flaming crescendo and blasted the Altaria in heat. It went down. 

Vaespar grinned. Who was out of his league now?

--------

Oh shit. Vaespar had made a vital mistake. He had sent Louis out against an Azumarill. "Louis, get back! Olivia, go!"

"Oh, uh, hi- Eep!"

Olivia yelped when hit by the Azumarill's Aqua Tail, but her Grassy Terrain and Leftovers softened the blow. "Energy Ball!" said Vaespar. 

The Azumarill tried to Charm her. But Olivia wasn't phased - a sphere of green energy knockled the Azumarill flat. 

Next was Mudb1 vs. a Wigglytuff. Vaespar knew what to do here. 

"Heavy Slam!"

"Wioooooooooooooooo!"

The opposing Wigglytuff tried to chain a Charm into a Body Slam, but was countered by an even more crushing force and promptly squashed. 

Thirdly, Louis vs a... Daschbun? It was a chocolate eclair dachshund. It looked delicious... No. Stop thinking about food for once Vaespar. "Torch Song!"

"I donm't know about you," said Louis. "But I like my bread lightly toasted!"

His trumpet sent flames onto the Dascbun as it gave him Baby Doll Eyes... Only for the flames to be absorbed?

Shit. "Change of plans, Shadow Ball!"

Louis tooted a Shadow Ball the Daschbun's way. It tried to leap at Louis with a Crunch, but Louis's tooting managed to shake it off. 

Then came the truck. "Louis, Torch Song again!"

The Truck slammed into Louis with a steely spin but Louis managed to get his fiery flames to roast its chassis. However it slammed again with a Magical Tourqe and Louis fell. 

"Mudb1! You're up!"

"Alright, you're going down, you ugly monster truck show reject!" said Mudb1. "Heavy Slam!"

The Revartoom tried to counter with a Magical Tourqe, but Mudb1 slammed into the side of it with more crushing force. The Revaroom tried a last ditch Confuse Ray but Mudb1 still got in a second blow. Still, Vaespar knew keeping her in was risky...

"Go Lang!"

"I've had enough of you Team Star punks," said Lang. The Revaroom slammed him with a Magical Tourqe, but Lang hung on. Just as planned. "Accelrock!"

Rocks shot straight from Lang's mane, denting into the beast's engines. It was done. 

Vaespar grinned. He loved when things played right into his hands. 

----------

Miraidon

Goodness, what an interesting journey Miraidon had been on!

He'd been with Vaespar and team over the hills and valleys and lakes of Paldea - there were so many amazing things outside of the crater! Including.... Delicious sandwiches...

He did hope that Penny girl would warm up to him. And that Arven boy. Perhaps he should try a different approach?

And Vaespar's methods were questionable... But he was learning! At least as far as Miraidon could tell. 

And there was the possibility they'd have to return to the crater...

Nope. Nope. Nope nope nope. Miraidon was NOT entertaining that thought. 

He should focus on the task at hand! Yes! That would be getting Vaespar to the Dragon Titan; they should be on their way...

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

Did that big catfish just eat that little fish?

Ridiculous. Vaespar was the one who was supposed to devour people around here!

"Louis, Shadow Ball!"

"Throwin' some shade at this... Fish!"

Louis' toots of shadowy energy left a dent. But the catfish's Aqua Tailand Water Pulse left more of one and Louis was left sprawling on the sidelines. 

"Olivia! You're up!"

"Eek! That's a big fish!"

"That doesn't matter! Energy Ball!"

Olivia smacked the beast with one and it sank back under the waves. Vaespar knew he had to go after it. 

 After frantically searching the lake, he found the Titan doing, what else, breaking open a cliff. And now Arven was here too!

"Vaespar! Did you find the Titan?"

"What does it LOOK like?"

Arven looked over at the beast. "So that's it? Sure is one big, uh, dragon? Wait, is it even a dragon? Or is it a fish?"

His question was not answered by the Titan, who once again gobbled up a smaller fish. Arven was in shock. 

"Th-the little sushi guy got eaten up by the titan?1 Yeesh. Didn't expect to see the food chain in action today!"

Vaespar rolled his eyes. "If this fish thinks it's an apex predator it'll have to deal with me." 

He sent out Olivia again, accompanied by Arven's Greedent. "Another Energy Ball!"

"D-Don't eat me!" said Olivia. 

Her sphere of green energy made a dent in the fish, but so did a Slam olf its Body, which caused her to twitch in paralysis. Damn it. 

"Keep it up!"

Too bad. She was convulsing violently. 

Shiiiiiiiit.

 Suddenly, things were a blur. Olivia's energy was renewed. She sunk a massive Energy Ball into the fish, sending it sinking into the bottom of the lake. 

Ha! Vaespar really was the apex predator.

---------

...Wait. Now this tiny fish wanted to challenge him for the role of apex predator? Pathetic. Arven had restored Louis to full health; might as well keep him his opener. 

"Shadow Ball!"

"...You sure you don't want me to go easy on the little guy?"

"NO!"

Louis shrugged and tooted a Shadow Ball at the fish. It replied with a Dragon Pulse smiting Arven's Greedent before turning Muddy Waters and Icy Winds on Louis that washed him away. 

"...Primadonno!"

"Hmph. Tiny creature. Know your place."

He chopped it with a Brick Break and was greeted by more of the chilling bite of Icy Wind. Then a Dragon Pulse did a significant dent and Vaespar knew he had to strategize. 

"...Mudb1!"

It was risky, but...

Mudb1 tanked a Dragon Pulse but was still standing. "OOf! Tough for a little fish!"

"Earthquake!"

Mudb1 charged through another Dragon Pulse, enduring the pain, before slamming her hooves for a tremor. The tremor created a tidal wave, washing the little fish away. 

Good. Vaespar's title was still standing. 

-----------

------

Vaespar

After Vaespar and Arven collected the final Herba Mystica, Arven's Mabostiff was restored to health (was that a tear on Vaespar's face? No, impossible. The Titan must have splashed some water on him). But the journey was not over - Professor Turo needed their assistance. They managed to unlock his lab and contacted him via a computer screen - where he said he needed the Violet Book brought to the depths of Area Zero. 

Both Vaespar and Arven had their reservations but agreed they should probably do it, and went to prepare. For Vaespar prep included working his way to the final badge - the Fighting Crew badge. Once he was nearby he started giving his Pokemon more intensive training - a brawl was surely brewing... 

----------

This Eri had apparently wiped out Clave- er, Clive. But she wouldn't wipe out Vaespar. Especially not with this Toxicroak. "Louis! Your opening act!" "Aw yeeeeeeah!"

The Toxicroack tried to Sucker Punch Louis, but the flames of his Torch Song were too much for the frog.Next came a Lucario, which befel a similar fate. 

..As did the Passimian. Vaespar cackled. Things were going well. 

Then came the Annihilape. What was this thing? Looks like... A Primape gone wrong... But Varespar knew keeping up the assault was the best option. "KEEP PLAYING!" The Annihilape's Rage Fist connected first. Shit. The song claimed it too but Louis was on his last legs. And now the truck was here. "PLAY LIKE IT'S THE LAST DAY OF YOUR LIFE!" "I'M ALREADY DEAD BUT OKAY"

But before he could, the truck hit him hard. High Horsepower. He went down. Vaespar figured this would get to this point. He had one gambit left, but it was, surprise surprise, risky. 

But he had to go for it. "Olivia! Terastalize! Tera Blast!"

"H-Here I go!"

She took on a crystalline sheen as balloons sprouted from her head. The Revaroom tried to Shift Gear, but the Tera Blast... well, blasted a good chunk off of it.

And then a second took it out. "I... I did it!" said Olivia.

"HA! YES YOU DID!" said Vaespar. Wait, what was he talking about? He did it. He came up with the strategy right?

...Right?

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

So Clavell was claiming he was Cassopeia. Only one thing to do with him and his Oranguru then. "Lang! Crunch!"

"Finally the true mastermind... I've been waiting for this moment!"

The Oranguru's Foul Play didn't stop Lang from taking it out, but a Yawn still left him asleep. Shit. He'd have to deal with that later. Next was Louis vs. an Abomasnow. Simple enough. "Louis? You know the drill." "I heard you don't like HEAT!"

Indeed one Flamethrower lightly toasted the Abomasnow out of the picture. 

A Polteageist came and survived a Shadow Ball, then Smashed the Shell of pottery around its body. This was dangerous. "Keep it up!"

Too late. A Shadow Ball took him out. "...Primadonno! Aqua Jet!"

"Hmpph. That cracked look is so not your style."

He slammed a jolt of water into the Polteageist, taking it out. 

Next, Sid vs. an Amoongus. "Hey! It's a little mushroom guy! Hi mushroom!"

"Sid, focus! Icicle crash!"

Sid dropped icicles on the Amoongus, smiting it instantly. 

Next: Primadonno vs. Houndoom. 

"Hmph, more brutes?"

"Close Combat!" said Vaespar. Primadonno got up close and personal with the Houndoom, and it didn't last long. 

Finally was... Another Quaquaval? Vaespar would have to consider things carefully. 

"Primadonno, ujse - 

Oh shit it Terastalized. 

"...Close Combat!"

Primadonno did so but... It survived. And smacked Primadonno with an Aqua Step. 

Vaespar had one option left. 

"Olivia!"

"Oh no oh no oh no-"

An Aireal Ace cut into her and Vaespar flinched. But he had to keep it up. "Terastalize! Energy Ball!"

A Brick Break bounced off her new crystalline hide as she blasted it back with green energy. 

It didn't get up. Some leader of Team Star. 

---------

Vaespar

Vaespar had really been on a wild goose chase. Or perhaps on a Swanna chase in the terms of this universe. 

He had finally gotten all the badges, gym and otherwise, and was told Cassopea was the big boss of Team Star... by Cassopea. After trying to track them down Clive revealed he was Clavell and also claimed he was Cassopea - but after Vaespar defeated him in battle revealed the latter was a ruse - both to protect who he suspected the real Cassopea was and to protect Vaespar from them in turn. In the end, all this accomplished was subjecting Clavell to the wrath of the math teacher. Vaespar felt he shared Clavell's suspicions of who Cassopea was - but he'd have to wait until nightfall... 

---------

So this Penny was the mysterious overlord of Team Star. Vaespar had to admire her chutzpah. 

Though he also had to deal within her Umbreon. He swapped in Primadonno, who took a Dark Pulse with ease. 

"Tch. You're going to have to do better than that."

"Close Combat!" said Vaespar. 

Primadonno jumped and danced and kicked into the Umbreon even as it gave him Baby Doll Eyes. It got taken out with ease. 

Next up was Mudb1 vs. Jolteon. 

"...You sure we should be beating up this kid?" said Mudb1. 

"Positive! Earthquake!"

Mudb1 sighed and complied even as the Jolteon gabon her more Baby Doll Eyes. Predictably, it was taken out. 

The next match was Olivia vs. Vaporeon. This girl really liked Eevee, didn't she. 

"Energy Ball!"

"I... I'm sorry..." said Olivia. 

Her spheres of green energy surged past an Aurora Beam and decimated the Vaporeon. 

Next: Lang vs. Flareon. "Finally... I've found my prey," said Lang. "Stone Edge!" said Vaespar."

The pointed stones took out the Flareon handily. 

The fifth match: Sid vs. Leafeon. Sid furrowed his brow in concern. "This kid looks sad... Ya think she'll be all right?"

"She... She wants us to do this," said Vaespar. "Icicle Crash."

What was wrong with him? He shouldn't care. Sid's Crashing Icicles took out the Leafeon regardless. 

And now the final match: Louis vs. Sylveon. 

"...Gonna play a sad song for this one..." said Louis.

"...Torch Song," said Vaespar. Louis played a mournful tune on his Trumpet. Bathing the Sylveon in harsh flames. It Terastalized and Baby Doll Eyes in response however, dulling the impact. "Keep it up! Then Flamethrower!"

Louis's fires intensified into a crescendo that burnt away at a Shadow Ball from the Sylveon and then into its crystalline armor. It was down. 

Vaespar had defeated Team Star once and for all.

....Why didn't he feel good about it?

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

Vaespar knew Arven would be using the Pokemon he sicced on the Titans, and also Mabosstif, but there was no telling what they could do. 

Including this Greedent. "Close Combat! Now!"

"You really need a better furstyle. Let me fix it up for you," said Primadonno. 

He launched into a flurry of punches and kicks, which sent it flying into a nearby tree. Guess the Greedent wasn't doing much. Next was Sid vs. the Toedscruel, truly a disgusting creature. 

"Ewwwww, you should get those lumps checked out," said Sid. 

"Hit them with Icicle Crash!" said Vaespar. 

That, indeed, did the trick, and the pelting ice meant the Toedscruel was out for the count. 

Next: Mudb1 vs... Garganacl? "MMmm, salt... said Mudb1."

"Don't eat it NOW!" said Vaespar. "Earthquake it!"

The creature tried to Body Press back, but Mudb1's unrelenting tremors shattered its salty armor and made it collapse. 

Next was a Scovillain. Vaespar knew it was rixsky... but sent out Lang in response. "Bit off a looker if I ever saw one." said Lang. 

"Stone Edge it!" said Vaespar. He tried... But missed. An Energy Ball left him on the ropes. Time for a new plan. "...Olivia!"

"...That thing is scar-"

She meeped as she was hit by an Energy Ball. "Terastalize! Tera Blast!"

A Fire Blast bounced off Olivia's crystalline armor as a gust of air emerged from her fronds and blew the Scovillain away. 

Next up: Cloyster vs. Primadonno. "And YOU! You need to polish your shell!"

"Close Combat again!" said Vaespar. The Cloyster was ill prepared for Primadonno's dancer kicks and was sent skidding aside. 

Next was Mabosstiff. Primadonno frowned. For a sick dog it was awfully Intimidating. 

Vaespar noticed this and swapped him for Mudb1. But uh oh, it Terastalized. But oh yay, its Play Rough did nothing to Mudb1. "Nice doggie.." said Mudb1. "Low Kick!" said Vaespar. 

The Mabosstif tried to latch on with multiple Crunches but Mudb1 reared up and smacked back with sharp kicks, eventually knocking it loose and sending it tumbling down. Yeah Vaespar felt he was ready for Area Zero now. 

----------

Vaespar

The matter of Team Star had been taken care of, in a roundabout manner. But Vaespar had other tasks at hand. He had also beaten Arven, completing his Path Of Legends, but Arven still needed help getting into Area Zero. Vaespar knew after the Starfall Street debacle he could get Penny's help... But then there was the question of Nemona. Which meant the final thing in his itinerary. 

Victory Road. 

After frantically searching Mezagoza for the entrance he went into a tunnel he emerged on a grassy knoll, and Geeta greeted him at the Pokemon league building with vague promises to kick his ass. He got his team ready. His team. No more punishments. They had survived so long. He was sticking with them until the end. 

...Why was he like this?

---------

Vs. Rika

First a job interview, now a fight? This Rika was really testing Vaespar. 

Olivia took a Muddy Water from her Wiscash, but wasn't phased. "Uh, that... Did damage I guess..."

Energy Ball!" said Vaespar. 

The Energy Ball knocked the Whiscash flat. 

Next was Primadonno vs. Camerupt. Hm. She seemed to be a Ground-type specialist... "If you make any hump day jokes," said Primadonno, "I swear to-"

"Just Aqua Step it!"

Primadonno quickly obliged, and the Camerupt didn't get to make a peep. The Donphan that came next befel a similar fate, as diod the Dugtrio, 

Next was... A Clodsire? What a dopey creature...

...Which meant it had to be a threat. "Keep up the assault!" said Vaespar. Primadonno kept up his dance, but then - it Terastalized AND Protected itself. Vaespar growled. 

"Don't let that stop you!"

"Oh absolutely not!" said Primadonno. 

HE tried again- only for the watery force to be slurped into the Clodsire. Water Absorb. Shit. "...Go Sid!

Sid was sent out and immediately hit by an Earthquake, though it didn't seem to phase him much. "Aw, what a little cutie!" said Sid. "That thing is a menace!" said Vaespar. "Icicle Crash it!"

Sid did, in fact, Crash Icicles onto the Clodsirew, finally taking it out. 

One down, three to go. 

--------

Vs. Poppy

This... This was an infant. Were they sure - 

He couldn't underestimate her. Her Copperajah LOOKED tough. She was probably a Steel specialist. 

Which meant Louis. "Fire, Louis, FIRE!"

"Coming right up!"

A Torch Song took the Copperajah right out. As did the Bronzong. And the Corvinight. And the Magnezo- Oh shit, that survived and set up a Light Screen. "Flamethrower!"

Louis breathed stronger flames that did the trick. 

Last was... A Tinkaton? A tiny pink creature with a huge hammer? And it Terastalized! And Stone Edged Louis!

Oh wait. Louis Flamethrowered it to death.

Phew.

----------

Vs. Larry

Wait... This man was a gym leader AND a member of the Elite 4? Was that even ALLOWED?

Questions later. Vaespar had to deal with his Tropius first. He said he used a different type for the Elite 4... Was he a Flying specialist?

"Primadonno! Ice Spinner!"

"Hope you like chilled bananas."

The Spinning dance of Ice left the Tropius frozen on the floor. He tried to do the same to the Staraptor that came next, b\ut the Intimidating Staraptor's Brave Bi9rd took Primadonno out in turn... and then itself from the recoil. 

Next was Sid vs. Oricorio. "Ooh, this one is.. Electrifying!" said Sid. "Icicle Crash it before it paralyzes you or something!"

Sid's icicles did in fact surge past an Aikr Slash to do exactly that. Next was an Altaria. Vaespar knew he couldn't send Sid against that... GHe swapped to Lang. "Hmph. My fur coat's better than that cloud fluff."

"Stone Edge it away then!" said Vaespar. 

Lang summoned pointed rocks that cut away at the Altaria's fluff and sent it spiraling downward to the ground. 

Next was.... Flamingo... Denny....

No, Vaespar had to stay in reality. 

He sent out Louis. 

"Flamethrower!"

"Here we go!"

The Flamigo Terastalized and connected a Brave Bird first, but Louis' scorching flames and the recoil left it barely hanging. Vaespar had an idea. 

"Lang! You're up!"

Lang entered, was hit by another Brave Bird, and watched as the recoil wore away at the Flamigo. Perfect. "Got you cornered," said Lang. He sent an Accelroc from his mane straight into the Flamigo. Its crystal armor broke into a million pieces as it fell. 

That was a tough one, Vaespar thought. But there was still one more... 

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

Vs. Hasslel

Vaespar had to fight his art teacher. He shuddered. Terrifying. 

First up was his Noivern... A Dragon specialist. "Primadonno, Ice Spinner!"

"Ice skating time!"

The spinning ice took out the Noivern in an instant. 

Next was Mudb1 vs. a Dragalge. It probably had Water moves but...

"That's some weird seaweed!" said Mudb1.

"Earthquake it!" said Vaespar. 

The Earthquake took it out with no fear of Water moves in sight. Next was Sid vs. a Flapple. 

"Mmmmm... Apples..."

"That apple will kill you if you don't Icicle Crash it!"

Sid begrudgingly oblidged, removing the Flapple from the picture. The Haxorus that came next dented Sid with a Dragon Claw, but Siid Icicle Crashed it too into oblivion. 

Next was... Hassle's own Baxcalibur. Hm. "...Lang, go!"

"The dragon guarding the end huh..." said Lang. "Stone Edge!"

"Wait. Shit. He Terastalzed. Lang's Stone Edge delivered a critical hit...

...But so did the Baxcalibur's Glaive Rush. Lang was down. 

...But Vaespar still had one ace up his sleeve. 

"Primadonno!"

"Your hat is ug-leee. Sid's hat is much nicer." "Ice Spinner!" said Vaespar. 

The Spin of Ice struck true and caused the Tereastalized Baxcalibur to fall flat. 

That was the Elite 4 down. 

As for what's next...

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

Vs. Geeta

Slenderwoman was attacking him. He was going to die. 

He'd have to get through her Espratha first... 

"Louis! Shadow Ball!"

"Alright, time for one last song in this league run!"

A psychic shatter did not stop Louis from wiping out the bird with a shadowy sphere from his trumpet. An Avalugg fell to a similar Flamethrower. 

Next came Primadonno vs... a Kinggambit? Was that thing sitting on a THRONE? That was VAESPAR'S job!

"Some ruler you are," said Primadonno.

"Close Combat!" said Vaespar. 

The pummeling knocjked the Kingambit off its throne. 

Next: Sid vs. a Gogoat. "You're far from GOATed dude," said Sid. "Prove it with an Icicle Crash!" said Vaespar. 

The Crashing Icicles did indeed prove Sid's point. 

Next was - oh no not another He took a risk and kept in Sid. 

"Crunch!"

"Mmm, fish..." 

Sid bit don hard on the Veluza, knocking it out instantly. 

Finally came... a Glimmora? What WAS this thing?

"Torch Song!" Oh. It Terastalized into a Rock type. And used Earth Power. Not good. 

"...Mudb1!"

Mujdb1 switched into a Rock Tera Blast, but didn't feel much."

"We're in the home stretch! No giving now!" said Mudb1.

Vaespar felt a thrill tingle his entire body. He then realized what was happening to him: 

This entire universe believed so hard in the power of friendship he was starting to believe it too. 

"TERASTALIZE! EARTHQUAKE! WE CAN DO THIS!"

Mudb1 shone, glittered, and gave a hearty yell as she slammed her feet into the ground. The resulting tremors knocked her opponent out easily. 

They had done it. 

They had won. 

Vaespar cheered. 

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

Vs. Nemona

One last extra test from Nemona huh. Vaespar could handle it. 

Probably. 

It was Mudb1 vs. Lycanroc, who had set up a Stealth Rock. Disgusting. 

"Earthquake!"

"Here we go! Yeehaw!"

She slammed her hooves into the ground even as the Lycanroc tried to Drill Run her, and it was out. 

Sid vs. Goodra was the next matchup. Sid retched a bit. "Ew, slimy..."

"Freeze the slime with an Icicle Crash!"

The first attempt... missed. Oh no. A Dragon Pulse from the Goodra hit sid hard. But a second Icxicle Crash got it in the end. 

Mudb1 vs. Pawmot time. The Pawmot let loose a Close Combat? That didn't hurrt much. "Alright fluffy, now you get yours!" said Mudb1. 

Her Earthquake sent the rodent flying into the crowd, to much cheering. 

Up next was... Primadonno vs. Dudunsparce. "So many segments..." said Primadonno. 

"Hit 'em with Close Combat!" said Vaespar. Primadonno hit each and every segment with a powerful punch or kick. Causing the Dudunsparce to roll right over. The same happened to an Orthworm. 

Finally, the fateful Louis vs. Meowscarada. "We've come so far.." said Louis, a tear coming to his eye.

"We sure have huh..." said Vaespar. "Let's make it count! Terastalize! Torch Song!"

The Meowscarada tried to Terastalize itself. And Shadow Claw Louis, but it bounced off his crystal armor. He let loose another powerful, fiery song. 

It fell. 

Vaespar cheered again. His long Victory Road had reached the end at last. 

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

Vaespar was fighting robots. Robots. How did it come to this? Regardless. It was Mudb1 vs. Iron Moth. "Woah, things got crazy sci fi in here..."

"I know right?" Earthquake!"

The Earthquake sent the Iron Moth aside. Next was Iron Bundle vs. Primadonno. "This crystal room is garish, you know?"

"Not the point!" said Vaespar. "Close Combat!"

A Freeze Dry caught Primadonno off guard, but he pummeled the creature into scrap all the same. Now for Mudb1 vs. Iron Hands. "These things again? One Earthquake coming up!"

A Fake Out deterred her briefly, but the Tremors struck true all the same, resulting in a ring out for the robot Hariyama. The Iron Thons that came next tried its own Earthquake, but that hardly phased her and she rammed it right back to take it out. 

The Earthquakes had no effect on the Iron Jugulus Dark Pulsing her however. The Low Kick didn't do much either. Vaespar needed another option. 

"...Sid!"

"Well this is a wacko future robot sitch we're i-" Sid started to say. He yelped as a Dark Pulse hit him and then a Flash Cannon, but then the usual Icicle Crash destroyed the iron hydra. 

Finally was Louis vs. an Iron Vallant. Vaespar knew this one was unpredictable. "Shadow Ball!"

"This song isn't for your future battle AI," said Louis. "It's for OURS!"

The Iron Vallant tried to shred Louis with his Psycho Cuts, but Louis trumpeted and trumpeted and trumpeted some more. Shadow Balls flew everywhere, and the might of the future Gallade fell under the assault. 

AI Turo's mission had been accomplished. But Vaespar knew it was bittersweet. 

----------

So a Miriadon vs. Miraidon match huh? So be it. "Miraidon, Power Gem!"

"Am... Am I really doing this?"

He unleashed gems of energy at the other Miraidon. "Hmph. Weakling as always." 

A Taunt I see, thought Vaespar. "That's not going to work on me anymore!" said Miraidon. He slammed the other Miraidon with an Electro Drift. Then a Tera Blast. But it still did not yield. 

"Die. "

It blasted a Hyper Beam into Miraidon's side. He barely hung on. "You can do it! Endure!"

"...I... I can! I can do this!"

He Endured, but the other Miraidon was winded - and the others were pointing out an opportunity. "Miraidon! Terastalize! Tera Blast!" "I'm not-"

Miraidon crystalized. "Afraid of-"

A dragon hat appeared on his head. "You-"

Energy began to charge. "ANYMORE!"

The energy fired. 

It blasted the other Miraidon away. Vaespar did it. No. Miraidon had done it. 

----------

-----

Denny

Light filled Denny's eyes. He stretched, blinked. He wasn't in the Box anymore. He was in Mezagoza. All hiks teammates were around him, smiling. Vaespar was there too. "We did it, Denny. You can come home now."

He was embraced from all sides by human and Pokemon alike. He squawked, then gavea beaky smile. He really was home. 

------

----------

Vaespar

Vaespar was staring out at the Paldean landscape from atop the Zero Gate, content. 

He had saved Paldea. He had a great team, friends who loved him. It was all he could ever want in life. Maybe his old goals weren't all they were cracked up to be anywa-

~BZZZZZZZT~

---------

Wha-

Oh. He was still sealed away. Must be having one of his sealed away astral visits again. 

He shrugged Guess it was back to business trying to become a god and devouring anyone who stood in his way. At least once he inevitably broke free...

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

Arceus

Phew! Arrceus had finally gotten the right file and removed that weird virus. He could assume direct control now. ...Though was it really a virus? It did solve that same problem Arceus was trying to fix in the end.

...Just like that hero from another world he asked for help in Hisui. ...Maybe he should do this more often...

***