#or maybe they call in a favor with Cynthia?

[crystalelemental]

"books-are-my-life-stuff: Maybe SS Leon, SS Cyrus, and Classic Elesa are meant to give people the illusion of "oh yeah Pokefairs might get a rerun or they might not" to make people more willing to pull for them, I dunno. I don't want for banners to get overwhelmingly dense every month than they already are, but I also want a rerun of the old pairs...it's confusing."

I think it's one of those challenging decisions, in the sense of yes, you want to enforce the idea of scarcity and FOMO, pull now to avoid potential calamity, so some have to go a while. But Masters takes absurdly long times to rerun some things, so much so that it has to be preventing profits when pairs that good get sidelined. Maybe it's because people only need one pair for them to function? SS Cyrus and C!Elesa, I mean. They're really fine at 1/5, so maybe that factors in? I couldn't say. But I think frequent reruns of older, well liked PokeFairs is a good way to address both the need for reruns and the increasing number of limited pairs. People don't really like Variety, but they would love some extra reruns. But then your whales don't spend much. So is that worthwhile from the company perspective? Without knowing more about the insider information, it's really hard to say what the correct call is on that front, but I do think reruns can be easily managed and not be a problem. But if the Mix Scout is anything to go by, given the presence of Variety Giovanni, Rei, H!Phoebe, and...the fourth one I forgot, they're more likely to rerun the really good stuff under that paid scout. Which is Not Great!

"books-are-my-life-stuff: I'm surprised they didn't mention 4/5 and 5/5 grids which I think also had a fair amount of controversy. A comment said those grids are optional and often not needed, but some units, like OG Gloria and OG Diantha, have pretty crucial grids that help them to catch up with modern units or patch up their glaring flaws. I still don't like it. EX roles did improve SS Serena and Paulo, but the introduction of it in master fair paid gems ruins it for me too I think."

I was always more positive on 5/5 than most, but then I had the means to make it work. I can see people getting upset with something like Gloria for sure. Her 3/5 sucks, and she doesn't get much until at least 4/5. But that's a higher investment than should be needed. In part, it's a matter of expectation. Had 5/5 grids always been there, I don't think anyone would bat an eye, just be mildly annoyed at all the good tools being at max investment, like how we get slightly annoyed when a pair only has good traits at 3/5. But I do think that this is easily circumvented. Take Cynthia and Lance, for example. As the only pairs with both 3/5 and 5/5 expansions, you get the sense that 3/5 is where all the traits to make them super strong went, and 5/5 is utility to make them easier to use. Even Diantha, good as she is, follows that pattern. You can actually deal better damage with all three with just 3/5 and pushing more power into sync, so they're far from unusable. Gloria's the odd one out, in that...had her tools been 3/5, I don't think anyone would've cared. But because it's only 5/5, it's damning. If she had a 3/5, and it also had good powerup tools? I think she'd be less of a problem. And the 5/5 tools felt like a nice incentive for whales; I've liked having them available, anyway. It was the least intrusive monetization angle they pulled, with the most benefit for players who bothered favoring a character that hard.

The EX Roles are also a bit an issue of presentation. I think his point of, if they hadn't done paid only Master Fairs for cake? People probably would've been fine. It's a neat mechanic! Maybe a little grumbling from people like me who wanted it to be customized and more available to older pairs, but far from the level of irritation. I actually love the PokeFair angle; that also feels fair and great. PokeFairs now come with rewards for pulling, and they have the added draw of "Why don't you go to 5/5 for the full cake?" incentive. They've had some really good ideas that are mutually beneficial. They're just wrapped around...really questionable ones, often interspersed with the good, and it muddies the waters.

[littlecarnet]

A Funny thing happened on the way to Sinnoh... Ch2

Part 1 found here: x

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

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

" And then turns out the whole battle was an effort to win me over, but since he lost, he took out it out on his pokemon." She groaned just thinking about it. " I had him reported for cruelty, but personally I would've loved to punch that asshole in the face."

" Why didn't you? You are very capable."

" I'm more than capable but there's the issue of assault and having journalists frame me as as crazy and violent. That would definitely sell papers better my usual wins."

There were other things too, such as her personal space always being pried in, from her love life to what kind of conditioner she uses for her hair. Plus advertisers vying for her to promote their products, offers for movies, offers to feature in magazines. It was as if the moment she became champion, she ceased being a person and was nothing but a walking billboard.

She'd been tempted on more than one occasion to lose on purpose to someone, and she nearly came close to it with Dawn. That young woman seemed the best new heir to the title but then how fair would that have been to her? To crown her so easily and then lump that heavy mantle on her? And all those responsibilities and obligations? All that endless publicity? No. She couldn't do that to a 12 year old girl no matter how mature she seemed. Dawn deserved to have a childhood.

So she was stuck. Cynthia was stuck. Much like Leon was, she mused, and Galar had a whole other set of issues with its endorsements and sponsorships on top of everything else. And to think trainers daydreamed about getting to the top, if they only knew...

Giratina could read her emotions, a swirling purple blue behind those steel gray eyes. " If you are troubled by other humans again, tell me their names and I shall bestow justice on your behalf."

" No no! That's not needed, but I appreciate you got my back. If I do need a favor, I'll call upon you, alright big guy?"

" Big guy?"

" Err.. big girl? I'm not exactly sure what your gender is, I don't think you ever told me." She wondered if Giratina even knew.

" Gender? What is that?"

Cynthia well that answers that question. " You know what never mind, you don't need it. I'm just glad I have such a loyal friend in you. You're such a great listener and I honestly kinda need that sometimes. It gets lonely out there."

" It gets lonely here as well."

She smiled and leaned againest them. " Well aren't we glad we got each other then?"

‐---------------------

It was the season of the Mid-summer league finals and Cynthia was called to do her duty as Sinnoh Champion. It was quite a physical and emotional ride. Physical for the pokemon on her team, making sure they were in peak shape, and emotional because so many young trainers got wiped out. Cynthia put on a stoic facade on the field and in public, but privately she felt so bad for them. It hurt to see a young trainer try their best to remain unmoved by defeat, only to hear them sobbing in the halls, their dreams crushed. After this she was definitely going to need a break this Fall. Maybe instead of Alola she'd spend her vacation in the Distortion World.

Speaking of emotional...

" You're going away again?"

It was a bit comical seeing such a massive and powerful deity sound sound so concerned over a mere human woman. A side that Cynthia knew no one else got to see from them.

" Just for a week. I'll be back soon."

Giratina hovered reluctantly around the edge of the portal to the outside world and the Distortion World. Inch by inch it seemed they got a bit further out, but never fully. Never enough to trigger their transformation from serpentine to their legged state. Cynthia was mindful of this. She'd eventually get them out fully, it'll just take time.

" If I went with you... if I battled for you ...would you come back sooner?"

The thought of that was hilarious. What she'd give to see the look on her colleagues faces realizing she befriended a deity. And Giratina up againest those poor trainers, god, they were already intimidated by her, they'd probably scream and run seeing Giratina. Shook her head.

" No, I wouldn't be fair to the challengers, I don't think most trainers could stand against a god."

She petted their side and grabbed her pack, only to be blocked by Giratina.

" What if I didn't let you leave?" They said more demandingly, curling around her. " I could keep you here with me indefinitely."

" And take me away from my friends and family?" She asked, unphased by this sudden display of possessiveness. She knew they weren't actually like that. Giratina wouldn't do anything to upset her now that they had become so close. Not when it risked they'd be left alone again.

" I could be that for you. I could be whatever you need." They purred, curling around her tighter. " Be whatever you most want."

Cynthia felt a pleasant chill hearing that last phrase. What on earth. She was sure Giratina didn't mean to say that in a suggestive way, but the curling of their body around her only amplified that idea. She kinda liked it. To have such a powerful being want her in that way.

" You'd keep me prisoner?" She asked, not entirely against the idea now.

That word made Giratina flinch, and they immediately uncoiled. What were they thinking? They could never hold her hostage like that, to take her away from the world she was born and raised in, from all that she loved. They could never make her unhappy. They would be no better than their parent who banished them. They felt a small hand gently touch their faceplate and they leaned into it.

" No, I cannot keep you. You are not mine."

I could be. She wanted to say. " I won't keep you waiting for long, trust me. I'll come back to you."

" I wish I could..."

" Could what?"

" ...Go with you."

This was a surprising bit of progress. " Why don't you? You're not forced to stay here anymore." She avoided saying their parent's name, she knew they still had sore feelings toward them " You're free to roam now."

" I am still feared as a force of violence and chaos."

" That was so long ago, I'm sure people have forgotten that by now."

" The world may have forgotten but I have not." Said Giratina in a kind of daze.

She could almost see in their eyes going backwards in time. To their past. She'd only heard them talk about bits and pieces of the time they were fully outside, of the chaos it caused as rebellion toward their parent, of the time they were ordered to strike down a mere child, the betrayal at the hands of her ancestor. They were painful memories. She wished she could heal them but for now she could only coax Giratina back to the present.

" That was so long ago, you need to let go..." she cooed.

Giratina reeled back to the portal's edge. " I am..."

" You're not ready. I understand." She knew it might be too soon for them. She'd try another time. " But if you ever want to come by, you know where to find me, and if not there, then at the festival at the end of the week."

Giratina only nodded silently and returned to their realm once more.

[thebranchesofshe]

Dr. Breyer

"Human beings, in their extremities, are gross. That's just the nature of it. I don't expect anything from you except to be sick, and to want to be well. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious about you. Yours is the most advanced case of Phatch's Fever that I've ever seen."

Three words: righteous, intense, jovial.

Name: Martin Wesley Breyer

Date of birth: August 29, 1916

Age as of Chapter I: 54

Height: 6'2"

Gender: red-blooded American male.

Orientation: straight but he understands that he's a bit of a freak magnet.

Occupation: doctor but calls himself a sawbones and is only half joking.

Family: late wife Hannah, son Bartholomew, daughter Thomasin. Don't ask him about his father.

Veteran?: yes, specifically a medic in World War II. He was in his late 20's and had just started a family. It was rough.

Religion: practicing catholic, but normal about it. His take on spirituality has a lot of nuance.

Politics: a dove with the intensity and fervor of a hawk.

What does that mean?: sometimes if you want peace, you have to fight for it. He takes a firm position and the fact is, he doesn't like it when people hurt people for no good goddamn reason.

Favorite book: Trout Fishing in America by Richard Brautigan. He is an introspective, meandering sort of man in his spare time.

Favorite film: it's a toss up between Dr. Strangelove and The Sound of Music.

Favorite treat: man's greatest luxury is a good cup of coffee.

Background: grew up in Decaelo, next door to the Farnsworths, an introverted only child with a domineering and jealous father. He and Liz were sort of sweethearts, but he fell for Hannah when he went to medical school, and Liz moved on, and their friendship matured when Breyer returned to Decaelo. Hannah was Jewish and an artistic type, and she really brought him out of his shell. They had two children, Bartholomew and Thomasin. When Liz's husband left, Breyer and Hannah frequently helped her raise her children. Hannah died nine years ago from a brain tumor, leaving Breyer a widower at the relatively young age of 45, with a son who would be drafted and a teenage daughter. He and Liz endured personal tragedies around the same time, and it brought them closer together.

Would he ever date again?: He and Liz are close, they've both considered it. But a few months ago, there was a schism.

A schism? What happened?: he started talking to Homer Smoot about what happened all those years ago. In particular, his memories of her father, Clarence Farnsworth. Breyer was blunt, as usual, but sympathetic to the man who was a gentle father figure to him. Liz, however, sees it as a careless betrayal. In her defense, her father's been badly misrepresented in the past. Breyer doesn't understand what her problem is, but respects her boundaries.

Any chance of a resolution?: maybe.

So he's a doctor. How's his bedside manner?: Lyndon B. Johnson's method of persuasion has been described by journalist Mary McGrory as “an incredible, potent mixture of persuasion, badgering, flattery, threats, reminders of past favors and future advantages." Breyer is as friendly as a St. Bernard and just as frightening, mostly due to the sheer fact that he could very easily make your life a living hell. Take your fucking vitamins.

His friends?: Myra, Warren, Homer Smoot, Liz (he hopes), Julius (eventually), probably his kids most of all.

His enemies?: Breyer doesn't have enemies because most people are smart enough not to alienate the only doctor in town. That being said, he has beef with Vernon Huxley, the mortician, and Cynthia Kline, the mayor's wife and local busybody.

Anything else?: he has two cats. Their names are Burger and Noodle. He talks with Homer Smoot frequently and considers him both a friend and a confessor. At present, he is Smoot's best primary source for information on the 1929 Disaster.

What does he look like?: tall stocky white guy with a graying crew cut, a prominent nose, and friendly but discerning eyes. Wears glasses. He's a bleeding heart free spirit but looks like a total square.

In my head he's a bit 'Bob Gunton in The Shawshank Redemption' and while he's scary as hell, he's ultimately a good guy. Just don't piss him off.

I don't usually make a habit of 'fancasting' my characters, but that's the vibe.

(Breyer is actually my favorite character to write. You put him in a situation and goddamn, shit is gonna happen. He's objectively the best character in Decaelo. I enjoy him the most.)

One more thing: among his hobbies is actually... swing dancing. He used to dance competitively back in college and occasionally afterward.

[castle-dominion]

c1x8 ghosts I've watched a good amount of these!

Why was she submerged & then let out air & then she floated? Makes no sense.

Castle poker night; Espt dealing; Martha wanting to continue; "the working stiff" & then all the real cops laugh; Espt calling her "mrs R" <3; "Well, frankly, I prefer strip because even when you lose, you win." MARTHA (their faces XD); this entire scene is good. I love all their faces & the music playing & just everything here. KB: Man up, "bro" Martha! Shut up! The music I love the interactions between all of them. I think this is why I liked this scene, we get to see them as People. KR: Murder never sleeps, Ms. R. JE: Yeah, and neither do we. watching this entire scene again bc it's so adorable.

Motor oil is clear before it is used tho... in one-gallon jugs??? That sucks, lots of work.

KB: What about tonight? Anyone strange coming in or going out? Clerk: *shakes head* Jasmine, a deep voiced, bearded individual with long blonde hair, high heels, & a short skirt: Hey, Bill. Clerk/Bill: Jasmine. How's it hanging? RC: I think you just described half their clientele. lol I love the transcript, it calls Jasmine "tranny hooker" & tbh I wouldn't have it any other way. (Tho at the time the livejournal was written I don't think it was meant in a positive way.)

Castle, you move past the girlfriend no later than page 50. Love a good notebook.

Or so u think. Having seen this I know she had a LOT of secrets.

Ryan just making castle a coffee uwu, point for the rystle fans. There was an easier way of saying that espt. KR: Maybe Castle was right. Maybe this is about sex. JE: The lady was a soccer mom. RC: Come by my daughter's school at about 3:30. The place is like happy hour. (Ryan & castle share a look & ryan points at his nose) Their physicality, The nodding, the hands, the head shaking, the cocking & tilting, the turning, all of it.

Ah yes, grab a dead baby's ssn. Just like the first lesbian who got married in ireland. She was straight but legally married the man's dead sister.

MR: Kate Beckett is not some bimbo who needs big, strong you to look out for her. She's a real woman. And a real woman does not want to be patronized. AC: She's right, Dad. I love how he has these two beautiful women with him.

Ooh true crime. Neat.

Lol death over easy & the diner in the background. Did u want those yolks murdered? XD I'm (not) funny

RC: Yeah. Captain, the mayor, and Judge Markway. You know. Your boss. Your boss's boss, and the guy that signs your warrants.

Whose house is this? Lee Wax? the door is just open? sus. ngl I HATE stripes on a screen. Lol the shock at her being a woman. "I am the cops" Your publisher is so right. Murdered??? RC: Well, given your unhealthy obsession for her, I'm going to take a wild stab at you.

Oh yeah, Not a bad idea. RC: But you did anyway. LW: RC: Any true crime writer worth their salt is gonna check her story with other sources. KB: What for? LW: My book. RC: Whoa. You're gonna go through with it? But Cynthia's dead. LW: Correction. Cynthia was murdered. Which means her memoir just became a true crime story, Which is kind of my forte. You'd be doing me a huge favor. KB: You know, I-- I would love to, but I have a whole list of writers who are hanging around, looking for favors. So, thank you very much, though, for cooperating. And, um, catch you on the dark side. These two could totally have a fun night together & as another writer castle def feels for her.

Poor pike, talking to the family & prying up the past, for a book? for HER? I like adam. I like him a lot. Poor boy.

RC: It is a good story. It's a great story. Personally, I would just write a happier ending for that family.

At least he has a job. So you KNEW cynthia was writing the book? I like Swanstorm.

Ooh stories not matching up. She WAS writing for sympathy. Creativity is doing stuff, art is knowing what to keep.

KB: You talked to the publisher? RC: I am somewhat known in those circles????

Noooo not adam pike! AP: Because I wanted to look her in the eye. I wanted to tell her none of it mattered. Her blood money wouldn't buy our forgiveness.

Ah, they knew cynthia was alive, the money was coming.

Oh a random stranger. Pointing the finger to some rando. Wow castle lmao thru the glass.

Writer battle huh. If she was trying to get sympathy she would have told wax abt the money.

RC: Remind me if I ever decide to write a memoir, to never write a memoir.

They have a corkboard today not a whiteboard...?

Love the poker night. Castle is just... friends with these guys. Ooh it's their rematch. Judge: Oh, do us a favor, Detective. Beat his pants off. RC: Yes, please. Beat my pants off, if you dare. RM: Beckett, do me proud. Judge: To hell with "proud." Make him cry like a little girl. He said to call him bob. Castle is so... obnoxious. "Who's a good little boy? Who's a good little boy? You are. And you are. And you are." Judge: Don't you ever get tired of winning, Castle? Castle: Yeah, you'd think so, right? But no.

Yay all of them getting fancy coffees. Esposito has his coffee, & ryan made coffee for himself & castle, & beckett is getting her own coffee. It makes me think that ryan actually knows castle's coffee order. He's made esposito's before (or he does later in the series) & there was that time castle & beckett had their coffees but espt & ryan stole them & took a sip & then switched bc someone likes their coffee like the other. Castle gave beckett's coffee to ryan I think so beckett & ryan like the same coffee, but castle has also drank beckett's coffee before so maybe his order & beckett's are similar enough... idk bro. Do I care? Not actually that much. I just wish someone would watch thru the entire show, take note of all the coffee, & then present me with the facts & conclusion.

Wow they have houses? Thought they were living in NY. You did what you had to do to survive & that's ok! I have a friend from pennsylvania.

Didn't recognize her until castle said 20 years later & possibly scarred. Mail order to new york. I love the audio. I first watched this while recovering from a bad sunburn lol. I like her! She really is confessing everything. Tho Mary/Susan could be lying too ig. Suicide in the oil thing? really? Who is that dramatic? Audio <3 Part manslaughter, part self defense, part murder.

No rick, cynthia was the one who contacted wax. Altho ig you're theorizing well. r u two flirting or hating? Oh it is hate nvm. RC: Oh, and one more thing. One day, and one day not far from now, I'm gonna use this in a book. Weird vest she has there.

RC: Next time, I guess I'll just try that massage parlor on 2nd Avenue. BRUH

Just has a deck with him (was probs planning it tbh). I remember sneaking over to sit at the wrong lunchtable & playing cards with the 9th graders. I remember a story from my english teacher, she ran a poker ring gambling for who got to sit at the table. Lol mano a mujer hand to hand, (like head to head,) not man to man bro. Her gummy bears <3 it's probs what she has in the bowl on her desk. RC: Aside from my muscular arms? XD not funny (I say, having found it funny)

Aight that's it for now. TBH I'll probably watch an audio commentary version tonight instead of liveblogging bc I want to work out & it's hard to work out while you're trying constantly

[shiftperception]

was idly clicking on random vids and one on obscure useless pokemon facts came up and. I brought up the sinjoh ruins arceus scene in one of my rambles about Volo’s possible fourth wall break. apparently in addition to the realistic photos flashing onscreen there’s a line of dialogue that only appears if you talk to your arceus in this room.

all I can see is proof this wasn’t just a stylistic thing representing a god being in touch with higher planes of existence, but arceus actually acknowledging the fourth wall. maybe even calling out to the player.

and I think you need to hack in an arceus to get this event so it’s not exactly canon (?) but y’know what. Volo’s fourth wall break could be a direct reference/callback to this. you’re in a temple. doing god summoning business. fucking CYNTHIA IS THERE.

Honestly I bet some writer was sitting there like you know what would be a pro gamer galaxy brained move. you know what’d really mess with few people who remember this line? And they knew even if a lot of people didn’t notice that those few would be out there so they sat there smirking typing into their scene outline or whatever game dialogue writers use: “You oustider!” Volo looked up at the sky and shouted loudly.

edit: sorry this is canon I just have zero memory of official arceus distributions existing. only more evidence in favor lol

[considerablecolors]

So I've been thinking about a modern SAF AU where Curt has a YouTube channel and frequently makes Owen and Tatiana join videos and anywho here's some thoughts:

Tatiana and Owen insist on using fake names (Liliana and Matt respectively)

Curt has yet to find a name that he likes which means he chooses a new name every video

The fans have a running bet going on what his real name is

None of them have realized Tatiana and Owen are using fake names too

Curt's channel has no theme. Videos range from drunken ramblings and two-hour live streams in the middle of the night to videos instructing how to fend off a kidnapping and what rope knot is best to use

He has one million subscribers purely because of all the mystery surrounding the channel

"Yeah, the new OneMoreShot video mentioned someone they called 'the informant'. What the FUCK does that mean?"

"Ok, I think I've got it narrowed down- 'Cynthia' is either Liliana's older sister, Matt's boss, or Albert's mother." "For fucks sake his name is NOT Albert." "Oh yeah, because Curt is definitely his name." "It COULD be!"

"Hey guys Liliana told another incredibly detailed story about killing someone I'm starting to think she's not making this up"

"Y'all update on the new vid!!! We now have the third mention of the "banana incident". What do u guys think it is???"

"Guys Matt made another joke about killing Nate, I'm getting concerned?"

The most successful videos are the challenges and Q&As because they always have the best lore

Curt does the partner vs. best friend challenge

Tatiana wins despite having known Curt for less than a year

Owen insists the game is rigged against him

"What is my favorite color?" "RED." "Blue." "She's right, honey." "WHAT? No, of course your favor color is red you arse, it's the color of your favorite jacket!" "Wrong. He dislikes red because it reminds him of blood." "THAT'S NOT WHY-"

"So that's a point to Liliana..." "Oh, excuse me for not knowing you have the same favorite color as a kindergarten boy who just played trucks for the first time-" "HEY-"

"Fine Matt, what's your favorite color?" "Orange." "Oh fuck off." "What? It's orange!" "You pretentious dick, just say it's red or yellow!" "It's orange! Like the sunset!" "Oh shut up you're just saying that to sound all poetic and shit-"

"Liliana, what's your favorite color?" "Translucent." "That's not a col-" "I am aware."

"Yo Liliana's worn a purple jacket twice now do you think that's her favorite color??"

"ok ok new theory - Liliana doesn't have a favorite-"

Occasionally, in the middle of a video, Owen will just start monologuing like an evil villain and none of it ever gets edited out

This becomes a major source of memes

"WHY is the new OneMoreShot video four hours long??" "Oh Matt went on a rant about NFTs it lasted a little while."

"Alright, next question comes from @evilcorebi: 'What do you do for a living?' Well, that's a great question. I am a spyyyyy......der.......... Spider. I am a professional spider." "Just turn off the camera, love."

Many of their Q&As end like that

"@Liliana09 I would die for u!!"

"You will."

"guys omg Liliana replied to my tweet holy shit ☺️"

During one livestream some woman shows up and introduces herself as Barb

This is immediately followed by panicked shouting and the livestream ending

The video is deleted immediately

But it's too late

"GUYS EVERYONE SEARCH UP THE NAME BARB"

"I FOUND ONE IN NEVADA HER HAIR IS BLACK BUT MAYBE SHE DYES IT??"

"DO YOU THINK SHE KNOWS WHO CYNTHIA IS???"

Finally, Curt eventually settles on a name

And says he'll do a name reveal at 2 million subs

The day finally arrives

"So, without further ado... My name... Is Douglas "Duke" Keane."

"so he definitely made that name up right?"

"yea that's definitely not his name y'all"

"damn. back to the headcanons I guess"

[mala-sadas]

For context: [x]

The Pokémon World Tournament is nothing like the prim, pompous sponsorship parties that Leon frequently has to attend. He’s surrounded by fellow Champions – kindred spirits who understand the hearts of their Pokémon and the joys of Pokémon battling better than anyone else. Talking with them is easy as breathing; there’s so much he can learn from Trainers who rival him in skill but have years more experience. Leon feels like he could do it for hours, soaking up as much wisdom from them as possible.

So, really, is it any wonder that he doesn’t think to keep an eye on Hop the whole time?

Hop was sticking close to him at first, shadowing him around while Leon greeted – and, in some cases, met – everyone else. He had introduced Hop to all the Champions he already knew, mostly from exhibition matches and the like. But sometime between meeting Wallace and Professor Kukui, Hop must have drifted away from him, and Leon feels awful that it took him this long to notice.

“We’d better Aqua Jet back to our seats before the ceremony starts, yeah?” Professor Kukui says.

“Right, that’s a good idea,” Professor Burnet agrees. “It was lovely meeting you, Leon.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Leon says, only half paying attention to the professor’s words. He scans the rapidly growing crowd for any sign of his little brother. How did he lose Hop already? They haven’t even been in Unova a full day!

“Looking for someone?” asks Diantha, the Kalos Champion, who’s seated in the front row.

“My little brother,” Leon admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “I thought he was right behind me, but…”

She nods in understanding and stands up, glancing across the seats. “What does he look like?”

“Short, purple hair, always wears a denim jacket…”

“Looks like a miniature version of you?”

“More or less. Did you…?”

She points to one of the seats in the second row. Leon has to shift his position to see which seat she’s pointing at, and – ah! There he is. Sitting behind Alder, who’s probably the tallest person there, and looking just about ready to nod off. “That’s him. Thanks,” he tells Diantha, who waves him off with a “no problem” and a kind smile.

Leon squeezes past the other people on the row to reach where Hop is sitting, between Lance’s cousin Clair and an empty seat. Hop’s head is starting to drift forward, but he jerks it back up to look at Leon when he approaches.

“This is really boring,” Hop says, rubbing his eyes.

Leon quirks an eyebrow at Hop as he takes his seat. “I told you it would be.”

Hop sighs and rests his head on his hands. “I’m tired.”

“I told you that would happen, too,” Leon says, not bothering to hide his amusement. Hop looks so jetlagged that Leon doesn’t think he’ll even notice. “And I offered to let you stay at the hotel and sleep. But you insisted that you’d be fine.”

He groans and slouches in his seat. “Stop being right,” he grumbles.

“Can’t. I’m always right,” Leon says cheekily. An announcer comes on over the loudspeakers to ask people to get to their seats, as the ceremony will be starting in five minutes. “Just a couple more hours. You can make it,” he adds, ruffling his little brother’s hair and giving him an encouraging smile.

The ceremony begins when a Seismitoad meanders onto the battlefield in the center of the arena. A Hydreigon flies down from somewhere up above to meet Seismitoad, and the crowd noise dies down as people begin to sense that something is about to happen. Water begins to condense in a ball in one of Seismitoad’s hands, and Hydreigon’s mouth begins to glow with bright orange energy. Leon leans forward eagerly in his seat – are they about to have a battle?

But to his confusion, instead of launching the attack (a Water Pulse, Leon recognizes) at Hydreigon, Seismitoad lobs it up into the air; Hydreigon tilts its head upward and shoots the ball of energy (a Draco Meteor) straight into Seismitoad’s attack, causing an explosion that sends a rain of sparks and water droplets on everyone in the rows closest to the battlefield. It’s fun, flashy, and gets everyone’s attention, just in time for Iris and a stout man wearing a wide-brimmed hat to walk onto the field.

“Welcome, welcome, everybody!” Iris exclaims, waving to the crowd with both hands. The giant telly behind her, which had just been displaying the PWT logo, now switches to a camera focused on her face. “Thank you all for coming to share this momentous occasion with us!”

“The Pokémon World Tournament’s been a long time comin’,” says the man, putting his hands on his hips. The screen switches to a camera view showing both him and Iris. “It ain’t easy ta put together somethin’ as massive as this, eh, Iris?”

“You got that right, Clay! But it’s totally worth it!” Iris grins. She stops beside Hydreigon and pats its head. “Hydreigon’s been chomping at the bit to see all the Trainers from all over the world who’ll be coming to participate in these tournaments. The Pokémon World Tournament is a place for all the strongest Trainers to test their skills against each other!”

“But it ain’t just fer them, ya know,” Clay says. He nods at Seismitoad. “Seismitoad here is all eager to meet the young ‘uns and the rookies who are lookin’ to start makin’ a name for themselves. Ya never know which feisty li’l whippersnapper will turn out ta be the next Unova Champion.”

Iris laughs. “I better keep an eye out, then!”

The pair exchange a few more introductory remarks before Iris dismisses herself to give Clay the spotlight. While he continues to talk about what the opening of the Pokémon World Tournament means for Unova, Iris takes the seat beside Alder, right in front of Leon. She twists around in her seat, and just as Leon opens his mouth to comment on the fantastic job she did with that opening, she reaches over and taps Hop’s knee.

Hop jolts back to semi-alertness, glancing first at Leon and then at Iris. She waves at him, and he gives her a tired smile.

Iris turns back around, and Leon nudges his brother to get his attention. “You can sleep on my shoulder if you’re tired. It’s okay.”

Hop blinks at him a couple of times, and Leon wonders for a moment if Hop couldn’t hear him over the crowd noise and Clay’s speech. But then Hop shakes his head. “I can get through it. I’m not gonna fall asleep,” he insists.

“Alright,” Leon concedes. He doesn’t want to force him. He just hopes that, when Hop starts feeling sleepy again, he’ll remember to lean on Leon instead of continuing to fight it.

Meanwhile, Clay is still talking, and Leon is starting to think that it’s going to put him to sleep, too. The opening ceremony of a world battle facility should be more exciting than an old man droning on about tournament rules and sponsors. Can’t Clay have his Seismitoad throw some more Water Pulses in the air or something to keep things interesting?

Clay, Clay…where has he heard that name before? The only people from Unova that Leon has heard of are members of its Pokémon League, and Clay is clearly a strong Trainer. And if he’s working with the Champion to start a battle facility…maybe he’s a member of their Elite Four? The Elite Four are the Trainers who work the most closely with the Champion in other regions, after all. Would only one of the Elite Four be helping out with this sort of thing, though? Maybe he’s just the local Gym Leader. His Seismitoad doesn’t seem anywhere near as skilled as Leon’s own.

Leon feels pressure on his arm, and he glances down to see that Hop has finally given in to the exhaustion and leaned against him. Hop’s eyes are still half-open, though – he’s nothing if not stubborn. Leon smiles fondly.

Unfortunately, not even a minute later, Iris stands up and asks all the Champions to come with her so she can introduce them to the crowd. Hop looks a little disappointed when Leon gets up, but there’s not much Leon can do for him besides ruffling his hair to help him wake up a little bit.

The Champions line up next to one of the staircases leading up to the battlefield; Iris calls them up one by one and talks a little bit about them – who they are, where they’re from, and what kinds of Pokémon they use. Leon doesn’t know what she’s going to say about him; he was never asked to submit an introduction of any kind. Either Iris or another organizer wrote the introductions themselves, or Chairman Rose submitted an introduction on Leon’s behalf – which typically means that Oleana wrote something for the chairman to send in. He hopes that’s not the case – he can’t imagine that something Oleana wrote about him would be terribly flattering.

“And, last but not least, please welcome to the field…Galar’s Champion, Leon!”

Showtime.

Leon puts on his best Champion smile, jogs up the stairs, and waves to the crowd. Their cheers are far less enthusiastic than the kind of reception that he gets back in Galar, which doesn’t surprise him at all. The unbeatable Leon has far less notoriety outside of his home region. That’s alright, though – he’ll just have to give them something to cheer about!

“Hailing from the small town of Postwick, Leon holds the impressive distinction of being the youngest-ever Champion, earning the title when he was only ten years old,” Iris announces. “While he uses a diverse team of Pokémon, he tends to favor Dragon- and Ghost-types. Shauntal and I love him – give it up for Champion Leon!”

Leon continues smiling and waving at the crowd as they cheer for him again, but inside he’s cringing. Of all the fun facts about him that they could have used, they had to pick the one that emphasizes just how young he is? Nothing about how long he’s been Champion, or the fact that he’s never lost a battle… Oleana definitely wrote that introduction.

Iris talks a little bit about how the tournament of Champions is going to be structured, and then the tournament bracket is displayed on the big screen. Leon scans it for his name and discovers that he’s matched up against Cynthia in the first round. He glances across the battlefield at her, and she nods at him, a smug little grin on her face. He shoots her a cheeky grin back.

He fought Cynthia once before in an unofficial battle when he visited Sinnoh several years ago. He had lost to her then, but it won’t happen again. Not when the whole world is watching. Not when Hop is watching.

Speaking of which… Leon glances back at their seats, wondering if Hop has managed to stay awake this long. He doesn’t see him, which could mean that he’s fallen asleep, or it could just be that he can’t see Hop from this angle with all the other Champions’ guests blocking his view.

Thankfully, the ceremony wraps up not long after that, so Leon can follow the others back to their seats. While the other guests get up to meet their respective Champions, Hop is still nowhere to be seen. When Leon reaches their row, he discovers why – and he can’t help chuckling at the sight.

Hop is curled up in a ball in his seat, his head pillowed on the armrest. He doesn’t stir when Leon approaches him, but he shifts a little bit when Leon scoops him up. Leon could probably carry him all the way back to the hotel like this, but his arms would be sore for the rest of the tournament – especially when factoring in the extra time it’ll take when he inevitably gets lost on the way. Plus, Hop’s at that age where he’s super self-conscious about looking childish, so he probably wouldn’t appreciate being carried back to the hotel like a little kid.

(Even if he is, in fact, still a little kid.)

So, Leon only carries him to the end of the row, where he puts Hop down and attempts to rouse him. Hop lets out a half-hearted grunt of protest. “C’mon, Hopscotch. You’re too big for me to carry back to the hotel.”

“Lee…?” Hop mutters, not opening his eyes.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he says softly. “Ceremony’s over. Let’s get back to the hotel.”

Hop finally allows Leon to pull him to his feet, but he flops into Leon’s chest as soon as Leon lets go of him. Leon wraps an arm around him to steady him and keep him from falling any further.

“’m tired,” Hop murmurs.

Leon rubs his back. “I know. Let’s get you back to the hotel and you can sleep all you want.”

“You’ll…get lost.”

Leon grins, shaking his head. Only his little brother could be half-asleep and still find the energy to roast him. Or maybe he’s just concerned. Still. “I’ll manage, Hopscotch,” he says fondly.

He lets go of Hop and takes Hop’s hand instead so he can lead him back to the hotel. Hop follows right behind him. But the first time Leon has to stop because of the crowd, Hop keeps going and bumps into him. That’s when he realizes Hop still hasn’t opened his eyes. The tacit display of trust fills Leon’s heart with even more affection, and he holds Hop’s hand a little tighter to be extra certain that he won’t lose him.

When they reach the lobby, Iris and Alder are standing just outside the main flow of people exiting the stadium, and they wave Leon over when they see him. “Hey, Leon! How would you like to join us Champions for a little afterparty?” Alder asks, grinning heartily. “My son and daughter-in-law live here in Driftveil, and they’re letting us borrow their house for the night!”

“There won’t be any alcohol or anything. We’re just hanging out,” Iris adds. “Hop, you can come – Hop? What’s the matter?”

Hop’s face is buried in Leon’s side, and as happy as he is that Iris extended the invitation to Hop as well, Leon knows he has to decline. “Jet lag hit him pretty hard,” Leon explains. “I need to get him back to the hotel. I can’t join you all. I’m sorry.”

“Aw. Well, maybe after you drop Hop off, you can come to the party?” Iris suggests.

Leon considers the suggestion for a moment; Hop will be fine to sleep alone in the hotel room for a few hours. But Hop’s not the only one who jumped ahead six hours today, and even if he’s not feeling it now like Hop is, he will definitely be feeling it when he has to wake up at seven in the morning in order to get back to the stadium on time tomorrow. Best to get in as much sleep as he can.

“I’d love to, but I can’t,” he says, shaking his head. “Thanks for the offer, though!”

“Aw, darn,” Iris says, pouting. “We’ll have to do it another time, then. See you tomorrow!”

“See you!”

After they make it outside, Leon runs into Professor Kukui, who asks him if he and Hop are coming to the party; once again, he has to explain that he can’t because he needs to get Hop back to the hotel. The professor is understanding, though, and asks if Leon has seen his wife instead of pressing further.

Professor Burnet shows up a moment later, and Professor Kukui tells her about the party. She immediately assumes that Leon is coming, too, and he doesn’t have the heart to correct her. He says goodbye to the couple, and after subtly watching other people to figure out what direction most of them are heading in, he heads towards the PWT exit, Hop stumbling along behind him.

He’s a little disappointed that he has to miss the party; it would be a blast to hang out with his fellow Champions even more. For the first time, he wonders if it would have been better to invite Sonia as his guest instead of Hop; the guest accommodations were clearly made with adult guests in mind, and he wouldn’t have to let his activities be so rigidly dictated by what she could or couldn’t do.

But…he thinks about how excited Hop has been about this trip, and how much fun Hop has already had so far. He thinks about the joy he felt having Hop sprint into his arms back at the airport, and how amusing it is watching Hop’s reactions to everything. He looks back at Hop, following behind him faithfully like a Growlithe following its Trainer, and his heart swells with so much love that he thinks he could burst.

No, he wouldn’t trade this time with Hop for anything in the world.

When Leon turns back to watch where he’s walking, he comes to the sudden realization that he wasn’t paying any attention to his surroundings while he was lost in his thoughts, and he has absolutely no idea where they are. He stops and lets out a resigned sigh. He knew it would happen, but it’s still a pain to get lost once again.

Normally, in situations like this one, he would let Charizard out of its ball and let him lead the way. But Leon hasn’t let Charizard out since they arrived in Unova, so Charizard has little more idea how to get to the hotel from here than Leon himself does. Hop is far too tired to give coherent directions now. There’s only one option left.

Leon lets go of Hop’s hand to crouch in front of him. His eyes flutter open, unfocused and confused. Leon smiles apologetically, grabs Wooloo’s Poké Ball from his waist, and releases the Pokémon. “Hey, Wooloo,” Leon says quietly. “Think you can guide us back to the hotel?”

Wooloo glances around for a moment before bleating in affirmation. Meanwhile, Hop slips his hand back into Leon’s, and Leon squeezes it. Wooloo begins to trot back in the direction they came from, and Leon and Hop follow him. Leon doesn’t bother trying to memorize the path Wooloo takes them down; he’s rubbish at remembering locations, and this whole area will look completely different in daylight.

By the time they make it back to the hotel, it’s nearly ten o’clock, but the hotel’s main doors haven’t been locked yet, thank goodness. Leon waves at the concierge as they head over to the elevator and take it up to the twenty-third floor.

He has to let go of Hop’s hand again so he can open the hotel room door, but he doesn’t take it again afterwards. Hop is capable of getting himself to bed from here without needing Leon to guide him, especially when he has Wooloo at his feet to nudge him in the right direction.

Leon isn’t going to make Hop change into proper nightclothes when he’s so tired, but he knows Hop will be more comfortable sleeping without his jacket on, so Leon takes it off for him as Hop slips off his trainers. He hangs it in the closet next to the bathroom, and he hangs up his cape beside it while he’s in there.

By the time he turns back around, Hop has already crawled into bed, Wooloo curled up by his feet. Leon heads over to the bed and pulls the covers up to Hop’s chin.

“Night, Hopscotch,” Leon murmurs, leaning down to kiss his little brother’s forehead. “I love you.”

Hop is already too soundly asleep to reply.

Leon smiles fondly at him, but it’s broken up by a yawn. He needs to be getting to sleep himself, but there are a couple of things he needs to take care of before he can.

First order of business is feeding his team. He would prefer do it somewhere where they won’t run the risk of disturbing Hop, but he doesn’t have anywhere else where six large Pokémon can fit comfortably to eat. And even this huge hotel room might get a little tight. But his team is exceptionally well-trained; he trusts them to be able to eat quietly.

So, he sends out his team, and the first thing he does is shush them. “Hop is sleeping,” he whispers, pointing to Hop’s bed. “We need to be quiet, okay?”

The Pokémon all seem to understand, so Leon proceeds with taking out their food bowls and filling them up. He sets out the food for everyone, getting to Charizard last, who nuzzles him in thanks. Haxorus, Dragapult, and his Dreepy decide to join in, and Leon can’t help barking out a laugh at being assaulted with affection by all his dragons all at once. Then Charizard sticks a claw in his face to remind him to be quiet. Leon grins; of course Charizard would take that rule super seriously. He’s always had a soft spot for Hop.

“So,” Leon whispers, taking a seat in the middle of the floor. “Tournament map. We’ll be facing Cynthia in a one-on-one tomorrow, and Alder or Diantha in a two-on-two the day after that. The final match will be a three-on-three, and we could be facing just about anyone. Charizard, Aegislash, Seismitoad, you three can handle anything that comes our way.”

Charizard and Seismitoad nod their agreement, while Aegislash holds his shield a little higher.

“Haxorus and Rhyperior, you two can take on anything that Alder or Diantha throws at us. And you, Dragapult…” Leon grins. “You’re well overdue for payback against Cynthia, don’t you think?”

Dragapult grins eagerly, while Charizard lets out an annoyed huff.

“Sorry, buddy,” Leon says, rubbing his snout. “You’ll get your chance for a rematch, too. But for this tournament, I’m counting on you to give everyone a great show in the final round!”

With his strategy settled, he returns all his Pokémon and heads out into the hall to make his daily call to Mum. Since he doesn’t have as much privacy out in the hallway, he opts to make it a regular phone call instead of a video call. However, it’s only after he dials her number that he remembers it’s the wee hours of the morning over in Galar, so she’s probably fast asleep.

She answers on the second ring.

“Mum! Why are you still awake?”

“Why are you calling me if you didn’t think I was awake?” she teases.

“I wasn’t – I didn’t think it all the way through,” he says sheepishly. “We just got back from the opening ceremony, so it was a convenient time for me to call…”

“Well, better a late call than no call at all,” Mum says. “I haven’t heard from you since you left, and I couldn’t sleep a wink if I didn’t know that you boys had made it to Unova safely.”

Leon winces. “I’m sorry, I should have messaged you earlier,” he says guiltily. “Yes, we both made it here in one piece. Although, Hop’s been vibrating with so much energy today that I’m afraid he might have shaken something loose,” he jokes.

Mum laughs. “I’m glad to hear it! Where is he? Can you put him on?”

“He crashed after the opening ceremony,” Leon says. “Well, during, to be precise. He’s fast asleep now.”

“Oh, well… I don’t want to disturb him,” she says. “I’ll wait ‘til tomorrow, then. In the meantime…how are you doing?”

“Me? I’m fine. Better than fine, in fact. I feel great!”

“Really? I watched the live broadcast of the opening ceremony. I saw you’re going up against Cynthia in the first round,” Mum says. Leon swallows. “You’re not nervous about that?”

“Of course not! Why would I be nervous about facing Cynthia?” he says lightly. “I’m unbeatable! I won’t lose to her.”

“Leon, honey, I’m not your brother. You don’t have to put on a brave face for me,” she says. “If you’re really not worried about losing to her, you wouldn’t feel the need to assure me that you won’t.”

Leon casts his gaze to the floor; Mum’s hit the nail right on the head. “I…I’m much stronger than I was the last time I fought her. But – but she’ll be stronger, too. I’m…I don’t wanna lose to her, Mum.”

“But you’re worried that since it happened once, it could happen again,” Mum says knowingly. “You know, even if you do lose, it’s not the end of the world. You’re still Champion. You’re still undefeated in the Galar League. You’re still loved.”

“Yes, but…” Leon runs a hand through his hair. “I just – I invited Hop here to watch me win the tournament, and I don’t want to let him down,” he admits.

“Oh, sweetheart, you could never. Hop adores you.”

“Hop doesn’t know that I ever lost to Cynthia.”

“And why is that, hm?”

“Because I don’t want him to,” Leon says quietly. “I want to be someone he can look up to – someone he can always depend on. I want to be his hero.”

“You already are,” she says. “One loss isn’t going to change that.”

Leon nods wordlessly. She’s right – he knows she is. Hop will still love him and look up to him even if he loses to Cynthia tomorrow. So there’s really no reason for him to be worried. He and Dragapult will give their best tomorrow, and that’ll be good enough – regardless of the outcome of the battle.

But it won’t matter – because he’s going to win.

“Thanks, Mum,” he says, stifling a yawn.

“Anytime,” she says. “But I think it’s time for both of us to be getting to bed, now. Goodnight, sweetheart. Good luck tomorrow! I love you!”

“Night, Mum. I love you too.”

He hangs up the phone and heads back to the room, where he changes into pajamas and brushes his teeth. He pauses by the foot of Hop’s bed for a moment to pet Wooloo, noting with satisfaction that Hop is still sleeping soundly. He lies down in his own bed, kicking off the too-thick comforter and snuggling under the sheets. The mattress is soft, the pillows softer. He closes his eyes, and within minutes he’s fast asleep.

[pollylynn]

Title: Overlap WC: 1000 Episode: Ghosts (1 x 08)

She finds it kind of odd that he is not a fan of True Crime. No, that’s not right. He’s not just not a fan, he is vehemently dismissive of the genre, so much so that it snags in her brain. At first it’s just another grain of sand there—something she figures she’ll file away either to slam him with at a later date,  or it might even be that valuable. It may just be a fun for her eye rolls only factoid. But it doesn’t just sit still. It becomes a kind of persistent knocking at the back door of her mind, so she hauls it out for examination. 

That has to begin with the fact that she’s surprised that he’s not a fan, at least in part, because she is not a fan, and he is the very antithesis of her. He prefers creamy to chunky peanut butter, roots for—shudder—the Yankees over the Mets, and will take reality television over scripted, every day of the week. Without evidence, she has taken each of these to be facts, and his voluble distaste for True Crime disrupts that narrative. 

She’s not exactly ready to abandon her conviction that he is the evil, goateed mirror-verse incarnation of herself. She thinks back to him wrapping the boys around his little finger with a ludicrous story, rife with details that connected exactly zero of the dots they have currently on hand: Westchester Housewife crosses paths with a lover who is in a position to slip her cash regularly, even as he insists that their hook-ups take place at an SRO that aspired to seediness. So, yeah, maybe his distaste for True Crime is really a distaste for facts, and the two of them remain comfortably at opposite poles. 

But the facts are not uniformly her friend here. As more of them roll in, particularly on the True Crime front, they don’t align quite the way she would like them to. For example, he really ought to be all over Lee Wax’s stalker collage, the strange-but-true story of Allison Goldman, AKA Cynthia Dern, reaching out to tell her story after two decades in hiding from the law. He really ought to—double shudder—be all over Lee Wax herself, at least according to the Castle is to Beckett as Anti-Matter is to Matter model, because her own aversion to True Crime has nothing on her aversion to Lee Wax. 

It’s perplexing, then, to find that he is rather adamantly not all over Lee Wax. He comes at her hard in the interview about paying Cynthia, about going behind her source’s back to other relevant parties, about the glee over the fact that a woman’s death has moved the manuscript dead center into her area of expertise. In a moment truly devoid of self-awareness, he looks aghast when Lee Wax starts talking about the favors the NYPD can do for her.  

It upsets her worldview how violently the two of them seem to agree that Lee Wax might give Calvin Creason a run for his money in terms of how much interaction with her requires an immediate shower. In fact, it’s so disconcerting that she bails on the interview as soon as possible. She abandons him to the dark forces of Lee Wax and pretends not to notice exactly how swiftly he manages to extricate himself rather than . . . throwing her down on the interrogation room table for some overwritten writer sex, rife with unrealistic details.  Or something. 

The idea is repulsive in every respect, other than its ability to return balance to the force by reassuring her that he is a secret lover of True Crime and Lee Wax, and thus there is nothing under the sun that the two of them agree upon. It’s also a little bit bananas. She is making too much of this. He doesn’t like True Crime, and neither does she. He doesn’t like Lee Wax, and neither does she. It’s not even two things agree on, given how closely related they are. It’s a grain of sand. It’s something to file away. 

She does, mostly. She manages it, even when he’s pounding on the one-way mirror shouting the woman’s name. She’s able to ignore their mutual seething hatred for her and focus on the fact that another one of the myriad differences between them seems to be the fact that he has no idea how sound works. She is even mostly able to blow right past whatever transpires between him and everyone’s least favorite True Crime writer while she is handling Susan Mailer’s booking. 

She thinks she’s past it—this worrisome little nook of the Venn diagram where the two of them overlap. It seems as if she can return to her regularly scheduled set of assumptions that there is nothing in this or any other iteration of the multiverse where the two of them agree about anything. 

But then they play poker for Gummi Bears. They play poker for hours, quietly talking about this and that. The conversation eventually turns to unhappy endings. It turns again to Susan Mailer and the mistakes she and Jared Swanstrom have had to live with that did little to touch Cynthia Dern, at least until greed and self-absorption led her to inadvertently engineer her own gruesome end. It turns to the Pikes and the choice that was no choice at all—justice or the means for their family to scrape by. 

“And they won’t even have that now. Lee Wax’s sleazy publisher won’t be handing them a couple hundred a week.” He folds his hand, even though she’s pretty sure it was a good one. He bites the head off a red Gummi bear from his dwindling bank. “It sucks. It’s . . .  whatever the opposite of poetic irony is.” 

“True Crime,” she says with a bitter smile as she rakes in another pot.

“True Crime,” he echoes. “Man, I hate that stuff.” 

A/N: This was going to have so much morphousness. It was going to be about the phone call from Martha tattling on Castle. And then it was all about Everyone Hates Lee Wax, which I would like to remind Brain Poneh, HAS BEEN DONE. 

images via homeofthenutty

[johns-prince]

TW for eating disorders, etc.

John OP here. Thanks for the beautifully written answer. I appreciate the honesty and in fact, you make very good points. I doubt I'd be the best influence on someone like John when it came to body image because we seem too alike in that department. I was a teenager in the size zero hysteria of the early 00s and this probably shaped my sense of aesthetics. I'm more relaxed about that now but my eye still responds to a certain look on people. I can't help it. I had my own "Fat Beatle" episode and I could tell how it all changed when I shed the weight. It didn't really matter how or whether I was miserable, I just looked the "right" way and people would let me know. It's possible I projected it all on poor John. But I know he'd relate to that in many levels.

I'm not a fan of the "rat man" thing either. I know people mean well and I try to look at it with humor but it does bother me. Mostly because the stans of the other boys are very positive about them and I'd like that for John too. His looks were a major part of his struggle so I know he'd be crushed watching everyone praising his mates (especially Paul) while he gets to be the fucking rat, you know? As I have mentioned before, you can feel it even on fanfiction. Even the writers who seem more John inclined will go on for pages about how pretty Paul (which he is, of course) and how lucky John was to be with him. Like it was a favor or something. That when the stories don't keep pushing that tired trope about Crazy John crushing on pretty but Immovable Sexuality Paul. That's not really my cup of tea tbh.

In the end I'm just happy to start this discussion

with intelligent people who will bring their opinions to the table respectfully. I hope my previous comment didn't trigger anyone or came across as worse than I hoped. If that was the case, I'd like to apologize, it really wasn't my intention.

Darling, don't fret. You've really nothing to be sorry about. One reason why I relate to John is because I have issues with bulimia to this day, and can experience hardcore body dysmorphia at the worst of times dues to my insecure and self hatred towards my body. I get it.

I remember that, vaguely at least, the whole size zero thing. I do, that was such a strange phenomenon, because it takes a certain body type to fit it naturally, or... Y'know, starving yourself.

Anyway, I think we all sort of project on our favorite boy, and we all sort of see ourselves in them too. You wouldn't be the first, and certainly won't be the last.

Yeah, I completely understand how you feel. Maybe I'm just overreacting, maybe I don't have a sense of humor, but I'm inclined to feel protective over John, and I feel like if you know about John's insecurities and struggles with himself in regards to his physical appearance, why... Would you yourself find it a silly and relatively harmless thing to apparently joke about calling him things like that, idk like I said I don't see anyone else really making such snide comments and quips when it comes to the other three. So at what time did the bandom just agree it was an acceptable thing to do towards John?

Whatever, people can do and say what they like y'know free country an' all, but I don't have to approve of it or like it.

Real talk, I low-key I am guilty of writing in that way but I primarily do it as if John feels that way, or thinks it, or feels it. Due to his insecurity and self doubt, the fear that he'll always be abandoned by those he holds dear and loves, the fear that it's all just too good to be true for him-- that's why I ever write a scene when it comes to Paul, that it's just John's way of thinking, not seeing his own worth, and ends up sort of idolizing those individuals (listen John once compared Paul to a religion that he knew/had so I feel like he idolized and saw Paul in this 'oh God he's too perfect oh no' sort of light, which both terrified and fed into the 'paul's going to leave me one day he'll figure it out that he doesn't need me I'm not enough' sort of mindset too) he just had a bit of a habit doing that to those he held intimately dear, until... They let him down or proved his insecurities and doubts right, that in the end they all leave him and don't actually love him. It's a cruel self fulfilling prophecy in a sense, since John, either consciously or subconsciously, put relationships and people through tests to see if they could withstand him and his antics, if they'd stay loyal, if they'd still love him. Sometimes he'd just push people away, and then feel like they just up and abandoned him...

I'm rambling. Anyway the point, your point, still stands! Their relationship shouldn't be written as one doing the other a favor for liking them and being with them! Maybe in reality people did think Paul was doing not only John a favor for being his partner but also a favor to everyone else, because John had Paul and Paul could be seen as the one handling John's lead. It's kind of like how some peer at John's art school thought Cynthia had done them all a favor for taking John.

I don't like that. John isn't some problem to be passed onto someone who must then bear the burden of him. That's just... Wrong. And I think both Cynthia and Paul would think so too. John could be challenging but geez, it shouldn't be made out like anyone who loved John and wanted to be around him and be with him was just some sort of favor to the world or to him.

If anything John and Paul were both extremely lucky to have found each other-- it's not exactly common for soulmates to find each other, especially at such a young age? Please. Most of us will never, which is common.

Like the crushing went both ways lol if anything it's Paul who crushed first-- while John never mentioned it, Paul had brought up how he'd noticed John long before meeting him at the Fete. They had even briefly talked at a newspaper shop which Paul had been working at. He'd see John on the streets, he'd notice him riding on the top deck of buses, or in line at the fish and chips-- he'd try and steal glances at John when he'd notice him on the same bus! Paul was instantly drawn to this tough looking teddy with big sideboards and greased hair and the drainies and a roguish air about him. He was like a schoolgirl with a crush, and he didn't even know this boy. Yet.

If anything it's Paul who noticed John first, and started crushing on John first. Then they finally were introduced at the local Fete, and that was it for both of them.

And let's be real John might've been a bit crazy, but Paul loved him, loved his touch of crazy. And Paul might be immoveable heterosexuality, but that goes straight out the window when it comes to John, and only John it appears.

So yeah, I get where you're coming from, and your grievances and perspective.

I'm glad you decided to share it with me! Sorry about my rambling (• ▽ •;)

[doomarchives]

David Annandale’s The Harrowing Of Doom: An In-Depth Review

So, I was kindly offered an advance reviewer’s copy of The Harrowing of Doom by David Annandale for the Marvel Untold series, a new prose line revolving around Marvel’s villains. Although I’m not personally familiar, the author’s prior written work and academic scholarship indicated a strong background in fantasy, science fiction, as well as horror film and literature - all essential elements of Doom himself honestly, whether in his character, design, or formative influences. A promising start from the outset! 

To no one’s surprise, I was especially excited for this one. Doctor Doom is both my favorite Marvel character and area of nerdy comics expertise, and Annandale sounded like the perfect candidate to tackle him. 

The Harrowing of Doom centers around a conflict familiar to those who know the character. Taking place fifteen years after his ascension to the throne, Victor von Doom is still hellbent on rescuing the soul of his mother, Cynthia, trapped in hell by the demon Mephisto. His yearly attempts to save her have been fruitless thus far, but he believes he can really do it this time, enlisting the help of a new character, Maria von Helm, and some of his lesser known subjects (also new characters) to accomplish the task, by building a machine called The Harrower. The noble scheme is further complicated by the reappearance of Prince Rudolfo Fortunov, son of the monarch deposed and murdered by Doom years prior, who is equally determined to take back what he believes is his birthright by any means necessary. The novel is a relatively dense and detailed one, and as a true blue Doom enthusiast, I have a dense and detailed review to match.

The first thing that I personally take note of in any material involving Doom is the author’s perspective on the truth of Latveria’s “benevolent dictatorship.” It immediately speaks volumes about a writer’s perception of Doom’s accountability and sense of morality; it kind of ends up coloring his entire characterization. That being said, I was really pleased by the evenhandedness with which Annandale treats Doom’s Latveria and his influence upon his subjects. It slots in neatly with some of the greats, Lee & Kirby, Jonathan Hickman, Roger Stern, etc with the acknowledgement that Doom is indeed a despot with an iron fist and a will absolute, but one who cares for the wellbeing of his country. Through dialogue from his subjects like the skittish Father Grigori Zargo and diehard loyal Captain Kariana Verlak, the reader gets the sense that Doom’s rule may be the best leadership Latveria has ever known. (A brief aside: another great strength of The Harrowing of Doom that has to be mentioned is the fleshing out of these different original characters. Maria von Helm was a particularly welcome addition, as a close friend of Doom’s mother and a far more empathetic magic user compared to him.)

Verlak is openly married to Dr. Elsa Orloff, a trans woman and neurosurgeon of international renown. Both of them had experienced the Fortunov rule that predated Doom’s, with Orloff even having fled Fortunov’s Latveria when she first come out as transgender, in fear of his tyrannical rule and the dangerously transphobic legislature he enforced called “The Laws of the Person.” It is apparent that Doom exists in obvious juxtaposition to the prior ruler’s bigotry. Beyond the total erasure of all previous discrimination and state-enforced bigotry, he has Verlak appointed in a role of great prominence, gave Orloff the tools she needed to succeed in her field, and even shares an exchange with her where he remarks that he knows her from her publications in the Lancet Neurology and that he appreciates them for their “speculative” approach. In an excellent exchange between Father Zargo and the rebel Prince Fortunov, the priest, who is by far Doom’s number one fan, explains Doom’s mesmerizing hold on the populace and the benefits they reap from his rule, despite it being a despotic one:

“I’ll be explicit, all the same,” said Zargo. “Doom is a sun king, even more fully than Louis XIV ever was. Latveria is a world power. How? Because of Doom and only because of Doom. Latveria’s strength and its wealth come from his inventions. And the beams of his sun touch every citizen. Universal basic income, free healthcare, free schooling, free universities, free training to the highest level of your calling - all of these things flow from Doom.”

“Free?” Fortunov snarled.

“The price is obedience, yes,” said Zargo, “And yes, Doom is feared.” Zargo stopped himself from saying Vladimir was feared and hated. [...] “Even though Doom is feared, he also is Latveria in every sense that matters.”

What I really appreciated was the author’s ability to walk the tightrope of acknowledging how beneficial Doom is for the country and his protectiveness over his domain, whilst also acknowledging Doom’s intense paternalism that ultimately favors his own goals. Doom, as well-read comic fans would know, is heralded as one of Marvel’s master manipulators. It’s a great strength of this novel to see him exerting his willpower and the strength of his personality to manipulate and sometimes, fully overpower that of his subjects. Father Zargo is definitely the most profound victim of this, a man with ties to both the church and the occult. Through the novel, Doom insistently pushes him towards the latter, his priorities made clear in one sentence: “The work was what mattered. Zargo’s soul was not Doom’s concern.” An especially interesting scene occurs later in the novel. Without too much elaboration, Doom performs an experiment where he uses the old Latverian nobility as guinea pigs.  This was something I immensely liked, corroborating one of my own personal perceptions of Doom. It’s always made sense to me that Doom would continue to hold a certain amount of disdain for Latverian high society, even after he went from low class Romani boy to monarch himself. 

(“The Fantastic Origin of Doctor Doom,” Fantastic Four Annual #2.)

Afterwards his partner, Maria von Helm, muses aloud that she always wondered why Doom let vestiges of the old regime remain, to which Doom responds: “Now you know. The aristocracy has its uses, and the advantages of being disposable.” It’s maybe my favorite example in the book of the exceptions to Doom’s purported benevolence. He does want the country to flourish and for his subjects to prosper, but this intent can be superseded by his innately ambitious nature and his own personal biases. It’s clear at several points in the book that Annandale is obviously well-read on Doom himself, but it was especially in the capturing of this nuance that it really stuck out to me in a big way. (As well as the fun reference to Doom’s brief jaunt in the French Riviera in Supervillain Team-Up!)

Outside of this core aspect of his characterization, I really enjoyed how the novel not only built up Doom’s cult of personality, but emphasized the sheer magnetism of Doom himself, in person. Constantly, characters find themselves buffeted by strength of his will, craving his approval or cowering and scrambling to avoid his displeasure. It’s a great true-to-character depiction of interactions between Doom and Latverian citizens, dynamics that were only touched upon briefly in the periphery of most comics involving Doom. I think, ironically, this is also perhaps the source of one of the novel’s few weaknesses. By keeping the book very Latveria-focused, Annandale does an excellent job of adding world-building on every level, from expounding on Latverian national holidays to the layouts of Doomstadt to the country’s storied history with witches predating Doom and his mother. But the fact that Doom mostly interacts with those beneath him or those who work for him gives the reader a bit of a myopic, overtly flattering perspective of him as almost too certain, too powerful, too unfeeling. I suppose it serves the scope of the novel for Doom to be more an obelisk of a man than fully well-rounded, but I contest that one of the best things about his character is that his indomitable exterior hides a deep well of pain and uncertainty. 

(“In The Clutches of Doctor Doom,” Fantastic Four #17.)

(“Oath of Fealty,” Doctor Doom #7.)

The novel obviously perceives Doom as Byronic, there’s even excerpts from Manfred interspersed between chapters that I greatly enjoyed, but I did find the heart of the Byronic character a little lacking here. Where Manfred bares his soul alone in monologue or to others, Doom, for the most part, does not. There are definitely brief allusions to the trials he’s faced, but he seems rarely prone to doubt or vulnerability until the very end. (For example, the central task is the attempt to rescue Cynthia von Doom’s soul, but little time is spent dwelling on this very human connection between mother and son.) Or even self-admitted imperfection! Interestingly, I only ever caught one mention of his scars in the entire novel. 

The Harrowing of Doom seems to prescribe to the line of thought that the mask is the only true face of Doom’s that matters, but I think with that philosophy, it stays firmly within the character’s own comfort zone. And his psyche never feels truly challenged, because there’s no worthy challenger. Doom knows without a doubt that he is Fortunov’s superior, so there’s no real interpersonal friction there. It left me keenly interested in seeing how the author would write Doom in the presence of someone like Reed Richards, an opponent who has historically brought out Doom’s baser instincts and invoked his self-doubt, drawing out his flaws and humanity in the process. Hopefully Marvel approves a sequel!

Doubtlessly, it’s still a strong entry into Marvel’s Doom canon and an excellent read for anyone who enjoys the character and is familiar with his history. The novel gives a sprawling, detailed look at Latveria and fleshes out both country and countrymen with aplomb. I took real delight at the indirect peeks at Doom’s personality through other characters’s observations or simple exposition. Some notable examples include Doom’s occult librarian wondering if he had been appointed out of spite of his witch-hunter ancestry, Zargo noting the west wing of Werner Academy was dedicated to clinical research in a nod to Werner von Doom’s work as a healer, and my favorite: the paintings within Castle Doom being impressionistic depictions of Doom’s ancestors, “people long buried, long forgotten, and in their lifetimes ignored or worse.”  

The conflict also moves at an engaging, brisk pace and smartly takes advantage of the widely known fact that Doom is preoccupied every Midsummer Night and turns that into an opening to be exploited by Fortunov, who also is well characterized throughout the novel and even experiences his own personal growth.

(“Though Some Call It Magic!”, Astonishing Tales #8)

Essentially, the product is a great novel about Doctor Doom influenced by strong comic lore knowledge, Gothic and Romance literature, horror cinema (According to the author, Doom’s lab is modeled after the lab from The Bride of Frankenstein!), and fantasy. If that sounds like something up your alley, definitely check it out. It gets a wholehearted recommendation from me. 

About Marvel Entertainment

Marvel Entertainment, LLC, a wholly-owned subsidiary of The Walt Disney Company, is one of the world’s most prominent character-based entertainment companies, built on a proven library of more than 8,000 characters featured in a variety of media for over eighty years. Marvel utilizes its character franchises in entertainment, licensing, publishing, games, and digital media.

For more information visit marvel.com. © 2020 MARVEL

[littlecarnet]

A funny Thing Happened on the way to Sinnoh ch1

In an attempt to make amends with Giratina, Arceus asks a favor from the Sinnoh champion, Cynthia, if she can somehow get their wayward child out of their 'room' and enjoy a little fresh air... what follows is an unexpected relationship.

Yes this is a GiratinaxCynthia fic.

Yes it's total Crack.

Enjoy!

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

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

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

" This is...."

She stood under a waterfall suspended in midair and at first wanted to move out of the way of it, but the water was going up, raining a mist down on her. Beyond that, houses or...what looked like houses, made of stone, their roofs connected to each other, perfectly mirrored. An island floated above her, growing a jungle it seemed, but a quiet one, uninhabited by any creatures. As she climbed a staircase, her point of view changed, everything twisted around til she was looking at everything upside down. She suddenly felt oddly weightless as well.

Time and space were absolutely warped here. A chill ran through her. Would the same happen to her if she stayed too long? She decided to play it safe and move as quickly as she could and try to search for this realm's ruler. She heard a roar in the distance and very faintly saw the shadow of a serpentine form below her feet swimming in this strange distorted sea. It was against all her instincts but she needed to gain it's attention. She waved an arm in the air and called out...

" Giratina!!!"

A louder roar sounded and a gust of air hit her, throwing her off her already precarious platform. She fell against a side wall in midair, but it acted as soild ground, her center of gravity had altered. She inhaled and exhaled slowly, taking in comforting breathes, trying to quell her panic.

She shouldn't be here. She shouldn't be here.

" G R R O O O O r r r r r r r ..."

She looked up. She got their attention alright. She collected her thoughts as the ruler of the Distortion World loomed above her looking expectantly. Its serpentine tail flicked the air, black tendrils trailing above. It was the eyes that sent a shiver through her. Hollow red orbs piercing through her, studying her, like a predator inspecting its prey. She dusted herself off and rose to her feet.

" I'm sorry to intrude on your domain, mighty Giratina."

Girtina studied her. This human looked familiar and not in a pleasant way. The hair, eyes, even the pendant. If they didn't know better they'd think it was Volo. The one that used them. The one who betrayed them. How dare Arceus send a human that resembled them. It was enough to make them want to throw her from their world. To get them out of here. To make the memories stop hurting.

This human was here because Arceus wanted to make amends, to reintroduce them to the outside world. Giratina snorted. They didn't need any help, they didn't need her, and they didn't want to leave this world. Why? They'd been banished here and they adjusted. There was no need for them to go outside. There was nothing for them there. Everything they needed was here.

" Giratina..." She started " Arceus brought me here to..."

" I  k n o w."

They entered her mind, loud and booming. She flinched, instinctively covering ears though that would do little good.

" I  k n o w  w h y  y o u  a r e  h e r e, y o u r  m i s s i o n  i s  i n  v a i n, g o  b a c k  t o  y o u r  w o r l d."

" Please, I've come too far here to just turn around, please hear me out."

" S p e a k  a n d  t a k e  y o u r  l e a v e."

Cynthia nodded. " I have a favor to ask, maybe not a favor but...I have questions about the history of Sinnoh, about the Creation Trio that I think you could answer."

" A s k. H o w e v e r  I  c a n n o t  g u a r a n t e e  y o u l l  f i n d  w h a t  y o u  s e e k."

This was good, she'd take that. That was better than a flat out rejection. She mentally got together her thousand and one questions for the deity...

" When were you created, and for what purpose? Were you there at the very beginning and what was it like? Did you always look this way? Did you create the Distortion World? Were you really banished?...."

Giratina was taken a back by all these questions. They thought she'd ask typical questions that most humans asked such as ... What is my purpose. Was there any meaning to life? How can I become powerful?... Instead all her questions were about them? No one ever paid much mind to them. They were forgotten to all but their family...and now her?

" Y o u  h a v e  m a n y  q u e s t i o n s."

" I'm sorry." She looked down guiltily " I'm just so curious about you, the ancient texts have so little to say about you compared to your siblings and Arceus."

" T h a t  i s  n o t  s u r p r i s i n g."

Was that...a bit of sarcasm she heard? Heh. She felt a bit more at ease now knowing this giant creature had a bit of humor in them.

" I'd honestly be happy if you answered even one of those questions. You have no idea how many nights I've stayed up trying to get a clearer picture of who you are and your role in our world."

" Y o u  w i s h....  t o  k n o w  m e?"

" Of course! You're fascinating to me, Giratina! Just even getting this opportunity to meet you, it's a huge honor."

She was honored to meet them? This was a first. Most would consider this meeting to be their worst nightmare. What a curious human. Giratina spoke within her mind a bit more quietly now.

" Follow me."

" Huh?"

" You wish to know me, follow me, human ."

Cynthia smiled and happily did just that.

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

Neither of them expected for things to turn out as they did for the rest of the week. Questions were the name of the game, but eventually Cynthia started bringing in stuff from the outside world. She realized wi-fi didn't work too well in the Distortion World, so she brought books, foods, music, and games. Anything to try and entice Giratina to want to explore the world beyond their realm.

It was a work in progress. While Giratina showed initial interest, it petered out when it came to actually making that effort. At first Cynthia thought it was fear holding them back, but then realized it was that Giratina was just way too comfortable in their world. They had everything they needed here. That was going to be a big problem. Cynthia knew she needed to think outside the box, after all the creator of the universe was counting on her.

She had to find something that Giratina lacked in their world. Something they really couldn't live without. She spent the next week trying to figure it out, even pry out a few things fom them. She got nowhere. She was beginning to think this was impossible, and would have to sadly tell Arceus she just couldn't help their child. She figured she needed a break from their visits. She needed some time alone to really think before completely giving up. It wasn't until a week and a half, then revisiting Giratina, that she discovered exactly what they didn't have in the Distortion World.

It was her.

It should've been so obvious. Giratina rarely if ever got visitors, and she was the only consistent one. Through Giratina's actions and behavior she could tell the deity had missed her greatly. They curled their body around her in a loose circle, trailed her closely as she walked, and listened dutifully to her like a newborn Togepi. That's when she knew she had to build up their bond, get Giratina to miss her so much they'd be forced to come out and find her when she stayed away too long.

She had an idea...

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

She entered through the portal to find Giratina seemingly sleeping in the floating garden. They were curled up among what she soon discovered were Gracidea flowers. How had they got into the Distortion World? Were they native there? And... was Giratina always this sweet looking when asleep?

Being careful not to wake them, she set to work unfolding a blanket and cushion for herself, then placing a cake on top of a basket, she picked out the dessert based on their previous love for sweet-sour treats. She had food for herself too, sandwiches, chips, dip, and a nice cold drink.

Giratina stirred awake, spying Cynthia nearby. She was still setting up the cake and candles, as well as little bits of decor and streamers as best she could on the foliage. She had also picked some flowers to adorn the area as well. She was dressed differently than they remembered. She was always in black, but this time she wore a white blouse, long black pants with gold kitten heel sandals. Her wrists had thin gold bangles, her ears adorned with gold disks. Her brilliant shiny hair was done up in a ponytail, which was meant to be temporary as she worked, but it allowed Giratina a very rare view of her whole face.

For the first time, Giratina really looked at her and it dawned on them at last just how beautiful she really was. Giratina wondered why didn't she always have her hair like that to see that pretty face. She soon spied Giratina in the corner of her eye.

" Happy Birthday, Giratina!" She called out happily.

" Birthday?"

" Yes well... I know you don't have a real birthday, since you were created not born so I thought, why not make today your birthday? I got you a cake. Pinapberry upside down cake!"

Giratina could smell it even before she said what it was. Their mouth plates opened and they smiled. They uncoiled themself and floated gently next to the blanket she laid out. To Giratina it was comical tiny, more like a little towel than a picnic cloth, the utensils she set out for herself were practically doll house sized. It was..dare they say...cute!

Cynthia set to light the candles, sparklers in this case, and set it before them. Giratina looked confused. Why had she set their treat alight? Wouldn't that make it hard to eat?

" Oh, do you not know this tradition? You make a wish and blow out the candles, then we serve the cake."

" Make a wish? Why?"

" Because it's a special day, so you get to make a special wish."

Giratina didn't really have any wishes to ask, all of the ones they pleaded for in the past fell on deaf ears. Eventually they didn't even want those wishes anymore they were content staying here in this prison turned home. But today? Yeah, maybe they did have at least one wish...

" I wish I could continue making memories like this with you."

Cynthia was about to say it was bad luck to say a wish outloud but upon hearing it, she was touched. She always wondered if she bothered them, but apparently they really liked her company.

" Now blow out the candles."

They did so and...the cake nearly blew away itself. Their tail twitched nervously. Oh no. They didn't mean to do that.

" It's okay, it's okay! I got it! That's what the picnic cloth is for."

She really wanted to laugh, but didn't want hurt Giratina's feelings. She successfully turned the cake right side up, which was actually upside down? Pfft. She cut out a slice for herself and gave the rest to Giratina. The cake was more like a cupcake to Giratina's size, but she was sure they'd like it all the same. If they were still hungry, she had other foods to share.

[dharmadischarge]

Annunaki chapter 1

"Dying is a wild night and a new road."

– Emily Dickinson

"Love never dies a natural death."

-Anais Nin

"We all float down here."

-Pennywise, the clown.

1

Cynthia "sam" Lynskey: was a chubby, tired librarian. Who had been looking for a fix. "I am in control,"; she wanted to tell herself, yet she knew this was a regret waiting for honesty to validate it. She is standing in the hall of a house, Out in the hills. The lights are grim with heavy shadows. Heavy contrasts of black and glowing gold highlighting whites of skin.

The preacher and his family were squatting in a dilapidated hell-hole they called home (or at least a place of business which, if we were honest, that is kind of what home is). The walls had holes from punches in the plaster with splintering cracks. Roaches that were long-dead sprinkled across the carpet that is piss-yellow from decades of nicotine stains.

A single couch in this room and a stained mattress her eyes are locked onto in the next room. That Sam is uncomfortably familiar with; she was responsible for some of those stains—over six months of talking herself down from sobriety, talking herself down from pride or dignity.

The couch was near the entryway, with a trinity of sleeping, dirt-covered "white trash." One child, the rest could be anywhere from twenty to forty years old. Sam's clean floral dress and translucent scarf aligned her with a world of, "I am fashionable even if it looks like Sunday best for the Walmart crowd."

She was waiting next to the preacher's bedroom, which in her mind meant that she would be eating out his wife tonight. "if I have to fuck two of you," she thought, "then I better get double." Out of a kind of politeness, Sam started to cough, looking at the women sitting on the couch before saying,

"you look good tonight, jenny."

The door opened to a short fat man wearing a black colored button-up shirt and a straw hat fedora before the women could respond.

"Hi, preacher," said Sam.

"hey," he said, standing to the side so she could enter.

Sam walked into the room, anxious and excited. She had been out of her meds for most of the day and agitated at a world that didn't seem to hurt as much as she did. The excitement left, however, when she saw the kid in the corner of the room. He had a nervous smile.

"who's the kid? and why is he here?" Said Sam glaring with evident frustration at the preacher, who didn't seem shaken from her exclamation

.

. "I'm, no fucking kid," The kid's voice shook.

The preacher said, "calm down, boy." then he looked at Sam, "It's his birthday."

and turning red in the face, she whispered, "so?"

"how much you have?"

"Just a twenty? but we had an agreement."

"and we still do, Just it's not me. It's the kid,"

"I'm not a kid,"

"How old is he?"

"he just turned eighteen. Now before this gets any more awkward, James, show her your id."

The kid listened and did what he was told.

"it says July 12. That's today," said Sam.

"You wanted a ladder? I'll give you that and two oxie."

"I want it in advance," Said Sam.

"no." said the preacher, but he reached in his pocket and pulled out a joint. He lit it, taking a hit, holding it out to Sam while he said, "we have a deal?"

She said nothing but took a hit off the joint held it in so long when she finally breathed again. There wasn't all that much smoke. She looked at the kid and held it out to him. His legs were shaking as he walked over to her. Then he sat on the bed.

The preacher said, "I will square it off when you're finished." then left, closing the door behind him.

She rubbed his shoulders, leaned forward, and kissed his neck. "let me see your tits." he said red-eyed. "she didn't say anything but pulled down the front of her dress. Awkward hands fumbling towards violence, pinched, and fished.

"Hey, you're hurting me." said Sam

"shut your face," Said James.

"This isn't working," said Sam, facepalming.

"Hey, come on, I'm sorry." then he stood up, unbuttoning his jeans.

"Just lay down, kid," she said. "I will do the rest."

He lay back, and she took his small sour cock in her mouth and began with eyes closed to fulfill a bargain. And when he was hard, she said, "Let's get this over with." lifted her skirt. Her pussy had stubble where she had shaven it yesterday. She laid back and guided him into her. Her distracted mind was saying, "you pull out, this isn't an all cum served buffet." he went on humping while she covered her eyes with arms. After ten minutes, she felt him squirt it off and then kiss her lips more fragile than she thought him capable of while all evidence of decency was gone when he continued to grope and play with her despite the tears.

Sam wiped his mess off of her, not hiding any disgust, and waited for the preacher to get her pills. The kid gave the preacher deliberate and obvious a self-assured smile and walked out.

"So who was he?" said Sam,

"James? He is my sister's boy. his dad thought he was a queer, and they ask for a favor."

"so what was I? his birthday present?" Said Sam.

"no, can't give away what you don't own; your more like a runt that is almost useless with its mouth taped shut so the fighting dogs can get a taste of blood." Said the preacher.

Hair frazzled, she tried to straighten it up and saw James sitting on the porch's warped stairs. He was smoking a self rolled cigarette; he didn't look at her.

"Those will kill you," she said, going by.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," said James.

"I let you do it, so don't worry about it," said Sam.

Then, as if he was trying to impress her, he looked up to the sky and said, "there are not even any stars, no sir, not tonight."

She got in her car, turning the key, a rough idle than the reverse. She saw him in her headlights, still on the front porch as she drove off into the darkness and was comforted by it.

2

The drive home was pleasant enough — the whitewashed walls of her house revealed itself through the tall grass around it. Sam's life was in the valley, where the mountains glowed on the horizon. With the majority of civilization hidden behind walls of a prison. The privately-owned prison/factories of indentured labor.

"shit," said Sam as she paid closer attention to the lights from the city hiding the stars. Dreamy, stoned eyes and a whisper of "it ain't that bad."

She saw the black cat for the first time while making her way up the creaking stairs of the porch. She did a dance of cracking the door and "shoo, shoo, I got nothing for you." trying to escape from its overt friendliness. The way it tried to rub against her shin as she ascended the stairs. Following her from the first of her "shoo's."

In a magnificent leap, it landed on her back, climbing up her dress, running over her bare shoulder, and leaping as she leaned down to pick up her keys. the door is pushing open as she reached for the black cat, Sam saying softly, "oh, damn it."

She lit the lamp and looking for any glare of reflection in the black cat's eyes, hoping it would give away the location that it was hiding in. She said, "oh fuck you," then Sam exhaled in exasperation. "You can, fucking stay, but I am getting high and going to bed." she locked the front door then went upstairs carrying the lamp to her room.

"Cynthia, why do they call you, Sam?" The voice was scratchy, calm, and with no visible source. Sam sat down the lamp on her end table and went back down the stairs.

"excuse me," she said, looking around.

Then she reached for the drawer that held the revolver; her father had owned before his passing. There she saw the black cat, sitting on the kitchen counter, staring into her eyes out of the darkness, and it started to sing. "jimmy cracked corn, and I don't care. Jimmy cracked corn, and I don't care, the monster's gone away."

Then she saw a spiral of smoke, and the cat was gone.

"Sam?" said a voice behind her. "is this what you were looking for?"

she felt the barrel push against her spine. "Maybe," she said, embarrassed that she had said anything.

The gun pulled away, and she heard a chair drag across the floor beside her.

"Sit down, please." said the voice.

Sam sat down and crossed her arms on the table. Walking casually to the chair opposite her, she saw something not human, but at least humanoid.

"I'll be staying awhile," it said. but was then noticing how wounded she seemed.

"It's for your good," then it held up the gun, and it turned to dust in its hand.

"he laced me with LSD? Didn't he," she said to herself.

"no, I am not a hallucination." said the thing,

"what are you?"

"I am a god or a monster, you could say. I'm not from here. You can call me Teki, and I am a cosmic tourist."

"tourist?" said Sam.

"If you are going to ask a question, you really should ask less ambiguously...for example. What is a cosmic tourist?" after a painfully long silence, he raised his scaly eyebrow and leaned forward as if to say, 'are you serious?'.

Sam, surprised, said, "I'm sorry; I am a little high right now."

"don't let me stop you go on ask your question."

"Why does everyone have to be an asshole, even aliens?"

"Why does everyone have to be an asshole? That is a good question."

Then he held his chin as if in deep thought, rubbing his gill-like whiskers. "maybe that is the core of tourism? I might just be looking for someone to surprise me. someone to make the whole mess worth it" then, clapping his hands together once he said, "it's settled; you will be my new passport."

"So, What does that mean?" said Sam.

"Well, my last one died, so I have been stranded for over a month in this hell hole. looking for his replacement, but luckily I found you."

"Your passport died?"

"My former one, yes, but I am hoping to replace him"

"I am a person, not a passport."

"A passport has to be a person. It is the nature of passports to be conscious and alive. Though your feeble human mind can't comprehend much, that isn't your fault. But alas, there is the downside of traveling to these obscure corners of the zoo. If your passport dies, then well, you are stuck with a serial killer monkey, for forty or fifty years."

"Fuck you."

"oh, come on, you will have a better life than here. Didn't you ever find it strange that a hundred-foot wall surrounded your whole tiny world?"

"well yeah."

"Well, now you get to go beyond the wall! Think about it; there is a universe out there, and not all the stars are artificial like in the zoo."

"can I think about it?"

"no!" he said with a smile.

"your first job is to dispose of this body," he said as he opened the closet door revealing a shriveled grey octopus creature with humanoid legs and eyes.

"Can't you make him disapear? Like you did my dad's gun?" said Sam.

"I could, but this little fella was with me for almost a century, and he deserves a burial."

"you do it."

"I," said Teki, with false pride, "am a God, and we don't do manual labor."

"well, I am tired, and that is just as good a reason," said Sam.

"Well, he doesn't have any bones...let's go burn him in the yard. Just know that your funeral will be just casual."

"he's your friend. Why am I supposed to be sniveling." Said Sam. Teki, in his first sincere moment, looked at her emotionless, and picked up the tentacled creature, and carried him out to the front yard.

After he laid the alien down, a suit appeared over his sexless body, and he solemnly closed his hands together. Him standing in his new funeral attire before his expired passport. With eyes closed. With startling immediacy, he raised his hands and said, "let there be light!" and the dead creature was in flames. Sam sat on the porch for awhile but was told by Teki, "it could take a few hours for this guy to cook down. You get some rest, and I will see you in the morning." So that is what she did, curled up under her quilt. She thought about how she would kick the preacher's ass for lacing her drugs with hallucinogenics.

[night-gladion-and-their-ghosts]

The Rebirth of A Chosen

Thank you @dimensionhoppinghybrids for helping cause I cant write worth shit

The coldness, the warmth he lost those few years ago, how much longer till Xerneas says ‘no more’ and finally lets him pass on? He was always doomed from the start. Family tied in this battle, a ‘Brother’ who only wanted to help those who wanted to ruin this world.

Why did Giratina keep him alive? He didn’t need him, past Chosen or not, Night just was doing what was right.

 He rolled on his side, staring at his alarm clock, each minute dragging by.

He sat up looking to see who had the pleasure of watching him; Solar. The proud Infernape was fast asleep, lying in the corner, calm. He slowly uncovered his right arm.

There it sat, no longer pulsing like it did before, faded like his own eyes. He never understood how Giratina corrupted his Keystone, hell, he didn’t think Giratina understood it.

He laid his head back down and closed his eyes, letting sleep take him. His eyes shot open, something was holding his arm, he quickly turned his head expecting Gladion, Cynthia, anyone, but no… A child?

 “Please, don’t be scared.” The voice was small, but Night could tell a certain Umbreon raised him. “My name’s Archibald, but you may know me in my past life... As Arceus.”

Night felt the fear take hold and started to call out, but he stopped, hesitating. “Please don’t. I’m not here to hurt you.” He said as he pulled a seat closer to Night. Tears in his eyes as he looked towards the bedridden man.

 “Night Smith... Right?” He asked as he looked at Night, hesitation in his voice as he tried to get himself comfortable, but the silence seemed to only stretch on. “Dad has said a lot about you. On how you were brave, and that you were... Kind... Even if you were sometimes misunderstood.” He said, his voice set with hesitation. “I was also told that you were the one that. Um. faced me.” He said, not knowing how else to put it.

 Night’s fear slowly drained “So.” Night paused over his words. “Joseph did raise you.” He looked away from him, sighing. “Yes, it was ‘my’ destiny, one my ancestors worked for, though I dropped Smith and picked up Shadowborn after you know…”

“Right.” He said as he looked at Night, the silence stretching out as he tried to think of words to say. “I am here though, to make it right this time.” He said as he stood up and gave a hesitant smile. “I want to say that I promise to do better this time too. I’ll do my best to help Xerneas do this right.” He said with a firm conviction in his voice.

 The next thing Night would know he was floating in a gray void, not solid black or bright white. Archibald now stood there holding a while orb and with a flash, he transformed. Night once again got to stare into Arceus’ eyes, but this time they were younger eyes, more innocent. Kinder.

 Archibald looked at the ball, then to Night again. “From what I was told, you’ve gone through a lot. Even before you met my... Previous life. You had a lot going on, and then add in... Some other things.” He said, sounding uncomfortable as he looked at the orb, refusing to make eye contact.

           The orb in of itself looked rather bright and felt warm. Even felt familiar. It was Night’s soul, bound and set, held gently in the... Hooves? Of an almighty being, that was still honestly just a kid. “I want to do this right.” He repeated. His voice is childish, but earnest. His tone was regretful but determined. “I don’t know how Giratina will react to this though. This will mean you are no longer bound so, directly.” He said as he hesitated at the last word. Archibald had heard the rumors on how Giratina could take over Night’s body, and do things with it that he wasn’t really supposed to. It was theorized, at least by his father, that the reason he could do it was because Giratina held Night’s soul bound within the keystone; and with that in his hold, he could do things out of his control.

 He tilted his head to a picture of Night’s current team. “I was also told that it’s Giratina that translates you... Would you like it if I gave you the ability to do it without him? I heard Gladion can do it without any help.” He said, wanting to offer up something that might help. Trying to sweeten the deal, so to speak.

He looked back at Night who had started to tear up. “C-can you bring… Steel back?” Arceus looked down, shaking his head. His tone was sad as he spoke.

 “I can’t.” He said after a long pause. “She’s... It’s been too long. I can’t just.. Do that.” He said as he shook his head. “It would also be wrong. It would be like what Giratina did to you. She’d just be..” He said, the implications of what he didn’t voice made it clear what the result would be.

 Night slowly wrapped his hands around the white orb. Silent as he brooded, and considered Archibald's words. “Thank you, Night. For helping me get a second chance.” Archibald said, and he meant it.

Archibald had sometimes thought about it, after he was told, on what could have happened if his past life was never ended. That Arceus never thwarted. He could have imagined that there could have been worse things. By ending that life, Night had given him a second chance.

With nothing more but silence between them, Archibald pushed the orb into the man’s body, and the orb was swallowed by an invisible force, as it took hold again of his body.

Night closed his eyes, feeling the warmth and something he hadn’t had in a long time… A heartbeat.

One, Two, One, Two. He counted in his head. A weight lifted from his body as he slowly opens them to see he was back in his room, Archibald gone.

 He removed the covers to see the wounds were healed and he turned to his phone turning on the front camera, his eyes were still the red/green mix, but his skin wasn’t so ghostly. He blinked a few times as he heard a voice coming… Solar?

 Solar looked over at his trainer, his eyes widening as he looked over his body. The Infernape seemed to be in a state of shock. Night’s body was... Whole?

Pausing, he slowly approached Night, and he put a hand on his trainer’s chest, and he drew it quickly back. Not because he was cold. But because he was warm. He was warm again. He looked. Whole.

 Unable to help it, the Infernape tackled his trainer, holding him, hugging him tightly. Solar could feel tears in his eyes as he held the human he loved like family, whole again. Almost crushing him.

 “Solar, Solar.” Night gasped. “Breathing, breathing!” He said, trying to push the Infernape off. Gods. He never thought he’d ever say that again. Solar let his human go, and gave him a sheepish smile.

“Sorry,” Solar said, looking embarrassed. Then realization dawned on him, none of the others knew!

Without much more forethought, he rushed away outside and started to jabber on quickly and drag the rest of the team quickly. Unable to help his own enthusiasm, or jumble of words, he dragged them back to the room. Where all of the rest of Night’s teammates took one good look at their trainer; and then all of them threw themselves on top of him.

 There was a jumble of words, noises, cries of elation as the whole team got to know. Got to know that their trainer and a member of their family was whole again.

 Feelings that he thought had dulled and maybe disappeared a long time ago surfaced again.

The warmth of the pokemon he loved all around him. Their care for him made his heart swell, and tears stream down his cheeks.

Without words, with his chest feeling like it would burst with butterflies, he just held around those he could, and silently cried as the fact stayed true. He was alive.

 Alive

Alive, like he was all those years ago when he started his journey.

 It was some time until Giratina finally appeared. He had stayed in the shadows, looming over the scene with an expression that he couldn’t exactly pinpoint. His feelings on the matter were... Complicated. Jumbled.

For one thing; he was glad that his Chosen was finally alive. Finally had his soul bound to him, as he should. But then again, he felt like he had somehow been cheated. Swindled.

The responsibility he had over Night seemed to be dulled. Lessened. Like what he had so painstakingly tried to earn and control, was finally gone. And Giratina didn’t know if he should feel slighted, or honestly grateful.

 Giratina would not openly admit it to anyone; but he had made a damned fool of himself. Taking care of Night is not something he had been planning on, but it had happened. And there had been perks by holding onto his soul. Like being able to possess his body, or influence his actions. But now that was closed off to him. Again, he didn’t know how to feel about that.

His father… No, the youth that was now Arceus had fixed that, and added a few boons to boot for Night’s benefit. Like the fact Night could now talk and understand his Pokemon without him. It made a sour taste in his mouth come to bite him. He felt like he was being pushed away, yet he felt glad for Night. Felt glad that he finally had gotten something in his favor for once.

 Unable or perhaps unwilling to accept his feelings fully. He sank back, letting Night enjoy his time with his family, while he brooded, and considered his feelings. And which way he would sway.

Is this still the same Night?

[iotaths-unrest]

Session 31 Summary: The Wake-Up Call

With the fleeing of Ivyrm The Tempest, and no following miasma, the party’s only choice is to keep going forward. As the party investigates a few concerning paintings, Cynthia splits off from the others for a while without warning. The party eventually rejoins and rests one more time before one last fight in the realm of the miasma. Waking up, the party gets caught up to speed by Airoman and Jeeves.

> Roth questions why the miasma never appeared after Ivyrm left. He assumes that it was because the dragon left of her own choice. He then investigates the room for more clues and hints, and then he finds a note that yet again lets them know things they already know. 

> The party assesses their ability to go into another fight. Wall and Cynthia go back and forth with a “I’m fine, go heal the other” argument concerning Paddy’s healing. Paddy heals Wall and Roth with 13 points each, and then heals Cynthia for 24. 

> In the next room, they find a painting depicting the whole party unconscious in the same room where Roland appeared. Roth draws a mustache on Wall. However, before more antics could happen, Wall notices that Cynthia is not present with them. Wall asks for Paddy to go find her, as Paddy has “a closer relationship to the captain”. 

> Wall and Roth go further to investigate more paintings, notably a painting of a burning city. Wall tells Roth to try to figure out if the paintings are magical, and then they notice a stone door with ornate, mahogany trim that has Abyssal runes. The runes are hard to read, but a few say “Death”, ”Path”, ”Breath”, and “Exit”. Roth continues to try to gain insight on the runes while Wall investigates the next room with his familiar. One shadow creature appears into a large stone golem, similar to the ones the party saw in the room they last saw Arumon. However, the golem appears to be corrupted and in pain. 

> Wall reminds the party that the golems were a hard fight even in prime condition. At this point, Paddy returns and tells the party that Cynthia is being “sus” and had ordered him away. The party decides to try to talk to her, but they get distracted by the paintings again. 

> With the conflict unresolved, everyone decides to take a short rest, and then they head back to the final boss.

> The shadow forms into what is named the Plagued Golem, and Paddy starts with a bonfire. At this point, the gang notices that the golem has magical resistance, as it passes with advantage. Brik, Wall’s owl, helps whoever attacks next.

> The Plagued Golem acts afterward, sending poison in the gas. Brik (and maybe Uther?) gets hit by the poison. Nur dodges, and then Wall sets up Shield of Faith and starts attacking. He hits, but similar to the last few fights, he does little damage. Roth lands one of his beams of Eldritch Blast. Cynthia declares a vow and unleashes her radiant wings.

> Paddy shoots the Plagued Golem, but the golem appears to be more interested in Cynthia. It attacks her with its Infect attack and lands, managing to also make her lose another point of Intelligence. Uther gets slammed once as well. 

> Yet again, Nur dodges. Uther and Wall try to attack the Plagued Golem, and Roth sends a Witch Bolt. Unfortunately, the witch bolt does not hit. 

> Cynthia starts to attack finally, landing twice. The Plagued Golem cracks and sends out a burst of poison. Everyone fails, including Wall and Nur, who usually are not included in the miasma saves. Roth loses 1 Dexterity, Paddy loses 1 Strength, Nur loses 1 Constitution, Cynthia loses 1 Intelligence, and Wall loses 1 Intelligence.

> The Plagued Golem then lands another Infect and two slams, this time going after Cynthia with the slam and Uther with the Infect. One of the slam attacks crit and the other hits, but Cynthia manages to stay standing after the two hits. Nur tries to rush to Cynthia’s aid and drag her away, but she is too far away for Nur to be able to drag her away. 

> Wall and Uther strike the Plagued Golem, but Roth misses with Eldritch Blast. Cynthia attacks twice, yet again dealing a lot of damage. However, Cynthia’s luck runs out, and the Plagued Golem slams her to the ground (notably on the raw audio timestamp of 2:00:22). > GalaxyKoi, despite being the main healer, asks for heals and gets 22 HP from Paddy. However, the Plague Golem crits Cynthia again after hitting Uther with an Infect (and making him lose 1 Strength). Nur drags her unconscious body towards Paddy. Wall and Uther attack the Plagued Golem again, and the Plagued Golem infects Uther. Cynthia fails a death save, but is soon after brought back up by Paddy.

> Not much to note until Cynthia and Paddy’s turn, where Cynthia hits once, and Paddy finishes the Plague Golem with a gunshot. (I want to note that, if he had missed, Cynthia would have gone down again, possibly even dying if more than one hit occured. Paddy makes the deciding shot in every potentially-bad situation, I swear.)

> No miasma follows as the Plagued Golem breaks down, but everyone begins to feel suddenly tired, even Wall. Everyone falls asleep.

> As everyone wakes up, Wall first notices a few of Uther’s bandits, and they fall down in reaction to Cynthia’s eyes opening. The area had been transformed into a hospital, and various bandits had been tending to their wounds. Cynthia tries to go back to sleep for a moment, but Roth encourages her to stay awake.

> One of the bandits fetch Airoman, with Jeeves and Zephyr coming in some time after. Airoman greets the crew (and Uther) awake, asks how they’re doing, and asks how much the party knows. Airoman explains that it had now been four years, and their time is growing thinner by the day. Orakiul, the blacksmith the party met, is in the process of ascending to godhood. The other gods have also been asking many favors of Orakiul, such as creating a “semi-stronghold” in Airoman’s dungeon, which is where the party now is. The other part was “assembling everything necessary for the ritual involving Cynthia, and that sword.” 

> Most cities in Iotath are destroyed except for Vunedar and another city: Glurizbig, the old gnomish captial. Zorin is protecting Vunedar, and Ivrym the Tempest is protecting Glurizbig with an army of Duergar. The elves have attempted to send aid, but nothing has come of it.

> We also get the hint that Roland is some sort of minion or right hand of Gond, who went mad very early into the campaign. > Poth is alive! He’s a scout for the rebellion. Airoman assures Cynthia and Roth that he is out hunting with Hoth. 

> (Another brief note: Roth says “I hope I grow to be a cool lich too” to Airoman.) > Roth gains 10 healing potions from the room, and then Paddy says that he’s going to craft himself some beer. Cynthia says that she wants some time to walk around and talk to Airoman about the future. 

> “We don’t keep much alcohol in residence since the… Incident.” The “Incident” involved Uther’s Blue Bandits getting too rowdy. Paddy leaves off with Jeeves in search of potatoes. 

> Airoman finally is the one to tell Cynthia about what Nur truly is. “Nur’s there, Nur’s always been there.” Nur is an ancient celestial that has existed before the gods. 

> The miasma is similar to the newer effects of the Living Plague. 

> Vadithas is in Vunedar, and his cure worked for a while, but it eventually became ineffective. 

[cynthiaandsamus]

Game Blondes: Tekking101 One Piece Isekai Adventure!

“Hey I’m Blonde!”

“...I’m also Blonde.”

“AND WE’RE THE GAME BLONDES!!”

Game Blondes Logo by @game-overture​

One Piece Isekai Setup created by Tekking101 and found here:

https://youtu.be/zHInvsopBtQ

“Wait this isn’t a video game.” Samus pouts.

“The show’s called “GAME Blondes” not Video Game Blondes, that means any game is fair… game!” Cynthia cackles. “And today we’re doing the One Piece Isekai Adventure Game created by Tekking101!”

“I don’t know who that is.”

“That’s fine!” The Champion nods. “We’re going to roll some dice to determine how and where we get sent into the One Piece world and what goal we have to achieve in order to come back to our own world. They’ve made some reference tables to show everything about our situation and we’re gonna make little stories based on them!”

“Okay, sounds simple enough.” Samus flicks one of the dice around. “So what’s first?”

“First the Isekai Fairy comes to take you away! As per the rules the Isekai Fairy is extremely attractive for some reason and is your ideal type of attractive person. For me they look like Dawn.”

“Okay that’s strange, I guess my fairy looks like Tifa.” Samus shrugged.

“Fair enough! Now the fairy lets you get hooked up with your starting gear!”

“You get to take what you’re wearing, plus two sets of clothing and one free set of winter clothing in case you end up somewhere cold, though they have to be extremely unfashionable.”

“That seems unnecessary but given I’m weak to the cold I’d better take it.”

“You get a backpack to carry this stuff in and also arrive in perfect health, get 1 million starting beli ($9,500) and one object of your choosing.” Cynthia read down the list. “So you gotta choose something to take with you, it’s one thing and most kinds of electronics and stuff won’t work. Though pets are allowed.”

“Guess I’ll take my arm cannon since I don’t think my whole suit would fly here, and the basic laser of the arm cannon works off my own energy instead of external missiles or power sources.”

“And I’m taking Garchomp, if pets count that must mean pokemon do too!”

“But if Garchomp is one object doesn’t that mean you can’t take its pokeball?”

“… fuck, so I gotta walk around the One Piece world with a giant sand shark following me everywhere… well they’ve seen worse so I guess it’s fine, it’ll work for the intimidation factor at least and keep people off my back.”

-Cynthia’s Inventoy-

1 Million Beli, Large Backpack, Champion Coat Outfit, Summer Blouse Outfit, Hideous Plaid Winter Clothes, Garchomp

-Samus’s Inventory-

1 Million Beli, Large Backpack, Zero Suit, Workout Clothes, Neon Pink Winter Clothes, Arm Cannon

 “Okay so we’re ready to go, got our starting gear, we’ll get a bonus item once we arrive but first we have to decide where we arrive at.”

“Fuck, the One Piece world’s huge, how do we do that?” Samus blinked and tilted her head.

“More reference tables! We roll a die to determine the region we end up in and then another to determine the exact island, let’s check out those tables.”

Cynthia’s Result: 2

Samus’s Result: 6

“So I’m in the South Blue, the buttfuck nowhere of the One Piece world, and you’re in the New World, the hellish crime-littered frontier of the current storyline. We arrive at the same day the One Piece story starts so none of the events have happened yet but we do retain our knowledge of their events. Now to find the islands we’re going to!”

Cynthia’s Result: 5

“I’m in the Black Drum Kingdom, a snowy desolate area that Wapol will eventually come to rule after Luffy kicks him out of the Non-Black Drum Kingdom. For now I guess it’s up for sale though since he only becomes King of it by getting lots of money so I might have a shot at ruling it before he does.”

Samus’s Result: 11

“You land on Applenine Island, a land neighboring the country of Dressrosa ruled tyrannically by Donquixote Doflamingo. I don’t know much about it except the terrain and houses look like Apples but it’s probably a short hop over to Dressorosa if you feel like going over there and making some connections.”

“You said something about a bonus item once we arrived?”

“Yes! For this one we roll a D100 and get an extra potentially useful, potentially useless item to add to our inventory. Let’s see what we get!”

Cynthia’s Result: 38

“A fishing rod with line, tackle box and bait. Well I’m pretty good at fishing up Magikarp so that might come in handy, though I don’t know how good the fishing is on the Black Drum Kingdom, maybe ice-fishing or something…”

Samus’s Result: 42

“A bag with EXACTLY 37 green apples.”

“WHAT THE FUCK IS WITH THE APPLES!?” Samus pounded her hand on the table. “I get warped to appleburg with a bag of fucking apples!! Is this rigged!?”

“It’s all random I swear, the apples of chance just seem to favor you.”

“Ugh, I don’t know how I’ll put that to use… what’s next?”

“Well before we get our objective and figure out or paths in this world, we have to look at… the risk table!”

“You don’t have to roll it if you don’t want but you have a 50/50 shot of getting a fair boost or a horrendous hindrance to your goal.”

“Ehh fine why not, there’s no apple-related choices so what’s the worst that could happen.”

Samus’s Result: 7

“A Yonkou wants you dead.”

“FUCK.”

Cynthia’s Result: 2

“And I get to bring a family member or friend! Considering most of my family are either young or elderly and I’ve already counted pokemon as pets for the sake of this game, I’ll bring a friend! You’re already having your own adventure so I guess I’ll pick Zebes, never know when a Tentacle Metroid might come in handy around here.”

“Which Yonkou wants me dead? Like if it’s Shanks I may be able to get away from that but if it’s Kaidou like Doflamingo works for him and he’s right fucking next door.”

“Let’s roll another dice to see! There’s no reference table for this one but considering it’s pre-timeskip we’ll go with 1 is Whitebeard, 2 is Kaido, 3 is Big Mom and 4 is Shanks.”

Samus’s Result: 4

“And it’s Shanks.”

“…okay, still not great but Shanks has a small crew and doesn’t seem to personally go out hunting a lot so I might be alright.” Samus breathed a small sigh of relief.

“And now last but not least the Objective Table! This will be your goal to achieve so you can get sent back to your own world and consider the challenge successful.”

Cynthia’s Result: 7

“I have to meet a Straw Hat, specifically meet a Straw Hat while they’re on the crew. That’s not going to be easy, I know where they’ll be but they never come to the South Blue so I’ll have to go out and find them/intercept them somewhere along their journey, meaning I’ll have to go out and find my way into the grand line, this might be tricky…”

Samus’s Result: 2

“I have to Walk on a Sky Island? I mean I guess there’s a lot harder goals out there but I don’t know where the nearest place to find one would be.”

“Okay, the stakes are set, let’s make our Isekai Stories!!”

Cynthia arrives in the South Blue in the Black Drum Kingdom, with a bit of money to her name, some clothes, a Garchomp and a tentacle blob. Needless to say the townspeople are all terrified of the woman that wears hideous plaid snowgear and controls strange creatures to do her bidding but with her trusty fishing rod and the hunting of her two partners she’s able to gather some supplies, some semi-frozen fish and a few other trinkets and uses some of her money (as well as some she earns by selling some of the fresh caught fish, doing tricks with Zebes and Garchomp as a street show and various odd jobs the team of three can do for the townspeople that aren’t scared stiff of her) to book passage on a sailing ship, the goal in her mind of meeting one of the straw hat crew.

By the time she makes it to the last island in the South before the Grand Line, working up the money and supplies as well as travel has taken her over a month and murmurs of Luffy’s first bounty arise. The exact timeline is sketchy but he seems to have already beaten Arlong and is heading for the Grand Line. Judging by the timeline and how difficult it seems to buy passage on a ship heading towards the Grand Line, she’s a little bit behind Luffy and will have to find a place to make up some time.

Luckily thanks to her One Piece knowledge she knows the Straw Hats do make a few detours coming into the Grand Line, and where they’ll be spending a lot of time: Alabasta. Using the remainder of her money and some intimidation thanks to her dragon friend, she is able to buy her way onto a ship running supplies into the desert country. They have an eternal pose pointing to Alabasta and as long as the trio catch lots of fish for the crew to eat, they’re welcome to stay on until they meet their destination.

Making a straight shot from the South Blue up Reverse Mountain and to Alabasta takes a good while but Cynthia, Garchomp and Zebes arrive in the desert country where the two creatures feel right at home and Cynthia has just enough money left over from fishing that she can buy herself a desert dancer girl outfit and a horse to make it to Rainbase, the luxurious casino town where Warlord Sir Crocodile is stationed and where the Straw Hats will arrive eventually.

Cynthia stakes out the casino day and night, getting a small part time job as a waitress there to keep an eye on things until the Straw Hats inevitably arrive, assured that none of her prior actions have changed the One Piece timeline and altered the Straw Hat pirates’ path. Eventually she hears the uproar of Luffy making a scene, screaming that he will kick Crocodile’s ass. She heads over to the commotion to jump in, and just misses Luffy running past, though she collides with an equally scantily-clad dancer girl: Nami.

“Hey, I’m Cynthia.” She gives a sly wink as her face is buried in the desert-clad navigator’s chest.

And thus her mission is complete in more ways than one.

“So you buy your way into a slutty waitress job and dive into Nami’s cleavage to win?”

“I mean luckily we don’t have very combat-oriented goals here so it’s probably mostly buying our way from place to place.

“Well I guess I’ll have to see what I can come up with…”

Samus enters the New World on Applenine Island, carrying a back of apples and her arm cannon while wearing her zero suit. Far from able to just do things on her own or in a group like Cynthia, Samus has also somehow incurred the wrath of Red-Haired Shanks, one of the Yonkou that rules the New World. Acting quickly, Samus uses some of her starting money to book passage to Dressrosa, led by Warlord Donquixote Doflamingo. She allows herself to be captured by them while sneaking into the castle of the Young Lord Doflamingo, claiming that Shanks wants her dead and the best place to protect herself is under the wing of another Yonkou, Doflamingo’s Master: Kaido of the Hundred Beasts.

Intrigued by her strange weapon and the idea that the mild-mannered Shanks wants this random woman dead, Doflamingo keeps her around but fails to see why he should bring her to Kaido. Thinking of a scheme, Samus tells him a quick lie: the reason why Shanks wants her dead is because she knows the location of the Ancient Weapon Pluton, it’s location? A sky Island.

Little is known about the Sky Islands by the surface dwellers but Doflamingo is in the know enough to at least confirm their existence and the legitimacy of the usually mild-mannered Shanks wanting her head combined with a few other predications she makes about the rise of Straw Hat Luffy and certain other world events lay credence to her claims, Doflamingo starts to believe there may really be an Ancient Weapon hidden among the clouds where no one else can see.

Having already been in talks with Kaido thanks to the Smile Devil Fruit trade, Doflamingo sweetens the deal by offering Kaido the woman that knows more than she lets on, the enemy of Shanks and supposedly the keeper of an Ancient Weapon. More than happy with this and her seeming ability to predict the future as more months pass, Samus is taken to Onigashima on Wano to forcefully become a member of Kaido’s crew. He doesn’t seem ready to embark to the Sky Island just yet but he finds the insight and story she tells to be rather interesting, until one thing seals the deal: Shanks arrives at Onigashima’s gate to demand to kill Samus.

Fascinated by the fact that Shanks would show up in person and risk clashing with another Yonkou just to kill this woman, Kaido decides that her story must be true. Having already thrown himself off a Sky Island or two for kicks, Kaido decides to take her to the nearest one: the Balloon Terminal not far from Wano in the New World. The Beast Pirates decide not to fight Shanks right away, opting to make a break for it and destroy Shanks’s fleet with ease once they have Pluton as not to rack of casualties. Kaido personally leads Samus to the Balloon Terminal under the promise that she’ll be able to pinpoint Pluton’s location once she arrives In the sky.

Shanks gives chase, sinking may of Kaido’s ship in his oddly single-minded approach to killing Samus. Eventually he makes his way to Kaido’s flagship and a clash between the giant dragon god of Wano and the Red-Haired powerhouse begins. The sky splits above them and both incur injuries, Kaido taking heavy damage and eventually retreating, using his Dragon Devil Fruit to fly Samus high into the air, up to the clouds and screaming that he’ll come back down for Shanks once he has Pluton.

“Who said anything about Pluton?” Shanks asks, but too late to reach Kaido’s ears.

Kaido lands on the Sky Island of the Balloon Terminal and lets Samus off his back, transforming back into a human and demanding that the bounty hunter tell him where Pluton is NOW so he can go back and crush Shanks.

However as soon as her feet touch the cloud-like ground of the Sky Island Samus’s goal is complete and a wry smirk crosses her lips. “Goodbye, and by the way, I hate Dragons. Have an Apple” She says, tossing an apple to him as she disappears back to her own world, the great dragon emperor realizing all too late that he’s been duped and is at war with a fellow emperor, wounded and stuck on a floating cloud feeling much like the lost balloons stuck under it.

“Well that was fun, got to con a Yonkou and ride a giant dragon demon thing.” Samus smirked, fiddling with the dice. “That was a lot more enjoyable than I thought it’d be.”

“See? Told you it’d be fun! Well now that we’ve got everything sorted out and our One Piece Isekai Adventures are complete, guess we’ll see you…”

“Next time on Game Blondes!!!”

[ddproductionsw77]

Feeling It. Chapter One.

Fandom: The Beatles

Pairings: (Eventually) Paul McCartney x John Lennon, (Past) Paul McCartney x Jane Asher, (Mentioned) George Harrison x Pattie Boyd, Ringo Starr x Maureen Cox

Characters: Paul McCartney, Mary McCartney, George Harrison, (Mentioned) Pattie Boyd, Ringo Starr, Maureen Cox, Ivan Vaughan

Rating: T (Unless Strong language offends you, then watch out)

Description: Paul is trying his best to raise his daughter, earn a living, and complete his education. John is an unplanned complication.

Author’s Note: This is completely a work of fiction, not meant to offend anyone or imply anything about real people. The song for this chapter is 'No More Looking Back' by The Kinks.

_______________________________________________________________________

Paul

Paul knew he shouldn’t have tried cleaning. 

His bedroom had been a mess for weeks now, what would another day have been? He should have just left well enough alone. He shouldn’t have touched a single fucking thing.

But, no, George was having Pattie spend the fucking night so apparently that somehow meant Paul had to clean up his room. He was still perplexed as to how his flatmate had connected the two issues. Is wasn’t like George would be fucking his girlfriend in Paul’s bed. 

He cringed at the thought and tried vehemently to abolish it from his mind. He and George were close and they shared a lot but there was still a clear line.

Not that Pattie wasn’t gorgeous — she was— but Paul just didn’t... Well, he didn’t know exactly what it was that he didn’t do anymore but he did know that he had a bit too much on his plate to even notice attractive men and women.

Still, Paul knew that George — especially in the last two months — had put up with quite a lot of shite from him without too much whining. He knew he owed his friend a favor or two... or ten. So, when Georgie asked for him to ‘tidy up, like, for Pat’, Paul had begrudgingly tried to do it.

Now, he sat at his desk with an old, ratty t-shirt in his shaking hands and a million regrets weighing on his shoulders. Across the front were letters, spelling out, ‘Elvis Presley: Live’, all faded from use and age. It’d been his favorite t-shirt for a long time. He loved Elvis...

Then, when he’d moved out of his childhood home and into this flat with his best friend and his then-girlfriend, it had quickly become Jane’s favorite t-shirt. 

Jane...

He was startled from his thoughts by an unhappy cry from the room next door. Muttering a curse word to himself, he tossed the shirt back on his desk chair and made his way toward the neighboring bedroom.

What had once been the tiny spare room in the apartment months ago had been transformed into a nursery, painted the exact shade of lavender that Jane had insisted on from the moment they’d been told their child would be a girl. On the wall above a dark wood cot, the name ‘Mary’ was sprawled in golden spindling calligraphy, curtesy of Pattie’s roommate, named Cynthia. 

Through the bars, Paul spied a shock of dark hair squirming about and babbling discontentedly to the ceiling.

With a slight curve of his lip, he swept over to the crib and easily lifted the sweet girl into his arms. Paul still marveled a little every time he held her at how perfectly Mary seemed to fit into his arms, as if the genes he’d passed on to her had somehow encoded it to be like that.

“Ready to be awake now, little darling?” Brushing his lips over the soft skin of the baby’s forehead, Paul mumbled, “Don’t worry, Daddy’s got you.”

Mary calmed instantly, ending her own fussing by stuffing her chubby fist into her mouth as Paul made his way back to his own bedroom. Carefully propping the infant up against his pillow and securing her enough to be sure she wouldn’t roll off the bed, Paul waved to his daughter before going back about his tidying. Mary cooed in response and reached her fists out for her father.

As Mary continued her near constant stream of baby babble, Paul’s eyes flickered back to the damn t-shirt just sitting there on his chair. Reluctantly, as if it would poison him if he touched it, he plucked it back up between his thumb and finger.

Paul could remember how indignant he’d been to realize, upon moving in together, that he and his girlfriend could exchange nearly all their separate wardrobes. Jane had laughed and assured him that it was absolutely adorable to her, but he’d still scowled. For fuck’s sake, she fit in his button-ups and he fit in her goddamn jeans...

But it had always been the Elvis t-shirt that she took most often. She’s said it was the article of clothing he’d been wearing when they met.

He’d rolled his eyes at that; he’d loved the girl to death but how could she possibly remember that? Paul himself couldn’t recall much of their fates first meeting — he’d only been 14 — and didn’t really believing that she did either. 

Still, Paul had let his hazel eyes linger on the way her bright red hair cascaded over those fading letters, ‘Elvis Presley: Live’. He could even remember the way the soft cotton fabric had stretched over her swelling stomach in the later months of her pregnancy, when she’d started wearing it every night to sleep, how soft the fabric had felt on his face when he’d tucked his face against her back.

But all that was over now.

And logically, Paul knew it was just a fucking t-shirt. His fucking t-shirt, at that, not Jane’s. He shouldn’t be thrown off by finding his own belongs in his bedroom. He guessed he’d just thought that since he hadn’t seen it in weeks... Well, he’d just thought that maybe Jane might have taken it with her. 

You’re a fucking idiot, McCartney, He mused silently to himself, Why would she take your stupid, ratty, old t-shirt with her? She don’t want to remember you. She left to get away from you.

With a resigned sigh, he stood and contemplated tossing the shirt completely.  Next, he thought about checking to see if it still held any of Jane’s sunflower perfume that she’d taken to wearing once she’d gotten into acting school. 

Instead, he threw it in his hamper to go to the wash. Maybe it was pointless to hang on to the memories but sometimes Paul just couldn’t help himself. Besides, it had been his favorite shirt before it’d been her’s. And yeah, maybe he didn’t feel quite ready to let it go but could he really be blamed?

Two months didn’t easily erase six years.

Shutting the hamper, Paul gave the room a quick glance and nodded to himself. The space resembled its natural state more than it had in a long time. There were no more clothes tossed about, no cloths stained from spit-up, no textbooks or notebooks messily bookmarked with a pacifier, no old unfinished baby bottles or uncapped highlighters. It nearly looked like it had when he’d kept it clean regularly, instead of at request, back in the ‘before’ days.

“What do you think, Mary?” He asked, settling his gaze on his daughter. 

The infant turned her big blue eyes to him upon recognizing her name and gave a single, “Eh!”

Grinning, the weight on his shoulders from finding his old t-shirt lifted a bit. Maybe he’d kept the shirt... but he’d cleaned the room and Mary was, as far as he could tell, proud of him. Five-month-olds could be hard to read.

Ruffling his hair to make it fall flat against his forehead again, Paul swung his daughter into his arms and made his way out to the living room. He was relieved to see his roommate was still not home from work, as he settled Mary into the high chair next to his usual seat at the kitchen island. Paul felt a bit guilty for his happiness at his friend’s absence but he just knew George would take one look at him and ask him what was wrong. It would be fucking pointless, too, because George knew exactly what was wrong and knew Paul wouldn’t want to talk about it anyway.

It was humiliating at this point, honestly, still being so hung up on one bird. But then again, it wasn’t just some bird... It was Jane.

Jane, who was now long gone and moving on, as they say, and Paul knew that. He’d come to accept it, sometimes even figured Jane was right in leaving him. She wanted more than she could have with him, what choice had the poor girl really had?

He could understand that.

But then Paul grabbed an empty baby bottle from the counter and glanced back at Mary, who was gumming at her fingers and following him with her eyes, and shook his head.

Nah, actually, he didn’t understand.

If she had just left him, well, things would be different but she hadn’t just walked away from him, had she? She’d turned her back on her own goddamn baby, too. Jane had been wrong.

He knew all that, ‘course, repeated it to himself ten times a day but it still felt like a socking to the gut to think of her.

Two months ago—right after she’d packed and gone—Jane had been all Paul could even think of. For days after he’d come home to that empty closet and that damn letter, all that had run through his muddled and confused mind was JaneJaneJaneJaneJaneJane. He’d think he heard her call for him or he’d start making food for an extra person who wasn’t there anymore. It had even hurt to look into Mary’s eyes, the very same shade of her mum’s.

But luck would have it that all of that got better with time. 

Now, he could almost forget he missed her until something, like an old t-shirt or one of her favorite songs on the radio, would hit him in the face and he’d think about throwing up or screaming. He would look at his phone, he would contemplate calling her—just to hear her voice—and then he would stubbornly refuse to let himself do it. If Jane could move on from him and Mary, he and Mary could move on from Jane.

So instead, he’d find his baby wherever she was—in her cot or in someone else’s arms— and hold her tight. He would count her toes and fingers, like he had the day she was born, lean in close to hear the little pitter-patter of her heart in her chest, listen to her breathing and her babbling. Mary grounded him, reminded him that his priorities laid with her now and nowhere else. 

Jane wasn’t his once in a lifetime, as he’d spent so long believing. She was now just a part of his past, one he was even thankful for. Having had Jane once upon a time meant having Mary and so Paul would make himself be okay with that. He didn’t have much of a choice, after all.

Ten minutes or so later the door to the flat flung open and George came hustling in, about ten bags of groceries in his arms. Paul quirked an eyebrow from his perch at the kitchen island, eyeing Mary as she held up her own bottle, but made no move to help. 

Nearly dropping everything to the floor, Geo managed to get to the counter across from his flat mate and slumped down in exhaustion.

“Fuckin’...hate...havin’...to...climb...those bloody...steps,” The boy managed between pants. 

Paul smirked and shrugged, “They’ve only been telling us they're gonna fix the lift since we moved in, Georgie, give ‘em another year or so.”

George shot him one of his signature scowls. “Piss off, McCartney. You didn’t even fucking help me, prat.”

“I was...” Paul trailed off, glancing around for some excuse before shrugging and meeting his friend’s waiting stare, “I was feeding Mary. Figured you had it handled.”

George rolled his eyes and gestures to the infant suckling contently, “Kid seems to be managing well enough on her own.”

Looking back over at his daughter, Paul felt the quirk of a proud smile curl the corners of his lips and let out a little laugh, “She is getting the hang of it, ain’t she?”

It was so odd, the things that impressed Paul these days. Two years ago, he’d have been just as proud to have successfully won a drinking contest or have rolled a joint perfectly and now here he was, dotting because his baby had figured out how to hold her bottle on her own... Fuck had happened to his life?

Seeming to be thinking the same thing, George huffed and turned back toward his groceries but Paul, having known the other so long, had spotted the glint of endearment in his friend’s eye. That was George for you, always playing the part of a grump but underneath one of the most genuine blokes there was. Besides, the bugger was probably just as excited as Paul for Mary.

“When’s Pat gonna come ‘round?” Paul asked, leaning his elbows on the island as he observed George shuffle about the kitchen. It was pretty shit and cramped but for two young men living on their own with baby still on a liquid diet, it did fine. Jane had hated it and Pattie wasn’t particularly fond either.

George took the jug of milk that had previously been sitting in the fridge, sniffed it, grimaced and set it aside, before answering, “She’s not coming ‘round till later. We’re meeting her at the pub with some others and then she’ll be coming home with us.”

“We? Us?” Paul asked, the whine in his tone clearly evident.

His best friend narrowed his eyes on him, a determined look in his dark eyes, “Yeah, us, Paul. You haven’t gone out since—“ George’s eyes trailed to Mary and Paul flashed him a look of warning that was clearly just daring him to say the wrong thing. 

Paul got downright mean when someone dared to hint at him being better off without his baby. George figured it was half from his father’s drillings before Mary’d even been born about how Paul was just too young to be a father and the other half from Jane actually expressing that very sentiment in her farewell letter.

“Well, like, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Well, yeah, it’d been a while. It’d been... whenever Jane had dragged him away from his textbooks last, he guessed. Before the baby was born... Probably a few weeks before they’d even riddled out that Mary was on the way... so, well over a year then?

Something along those lines, Paul supposed.

Jane had loved to go out, to have fun, and Paul had loved Jane, finding the pub scene decently entertaining. They’d gone out nearly every free night they had, sometimes with a group or sometimes just the two of them like any normal Uni students. 

Then, when the home pregnancy tests had come back with pink lines, that lifestyle had been put on the back burner. Now, without Jane to gravitate towards, mountains of assignments due and single fatherhood to face, Paul didn’t think going out sounded all that appealing anymore.

He shrugged, noncommittally, because there was no point in giving George more satisfaction in being right for once. Shaking his head, Paul made a noise of frustration, “Well, so what? I got Mary—“

“—I already asked Mike and you’re off duty until midnight.”

“I’m her Da, George, I’m never ‘off duty’,” Paul rolled his eyes, using air quotations, “Besides, I don’t want—“

“You’re bloody well going, Paul!” George snapped. “It’s gonna be the whole lot of us. It’ll be great!”

“Like who?” Paul asked, scrunching up his nose. The idea of the ‘whole lot’ didn’t tickle his fancy the way it seemed to get George. 

George paused to give Paul another exasperated look, “Me and Pats, obviously. Ritchie and Mo. Oh! And we’re gonna meet Ivan there cuz he’s working tonight,” He ended in a shrugged, “He can work us out a discount.”

“Discount alcohol,” Paul mused, sarcastically, “My favorite.”

Beside him, Mary finished off her meal and let her bottle crash to her tray. George jumped and nearly dropped a carton of eggs while Paul just grinned at her, running his hand over her silky hair before taking the bottle back. 

Something about having a kid made a person a lot less sensitive to loud, startling noises. Maybe it was the screaming at all hours of the night?

Pulling down his sleeve, he wiped some formula from the baby’s cheek and bopped her tiny nose, getting up to rinse the bottle out. 

“That’s fucking disgusting,” George muttered, “I mean, like, use a cloth or something! Not your bloody sleeve!”

Paul laughed, “Ah, piss off.” Setting the clean bottle on the rack to dry, he turned back to his best friend. “And Mikey’s okay with Mary duty?”

“Told you already he is,” Geo muttered before clearing his throat and saying louder, “Oh, go on, Paul! Just come with us! Just for a few hours!”

Mary broke in with a loud squeal, slamming her chubby hands down into her tray, “Bah!”

George pointed to the baby and raised an eyebrow, “I think Mary’s agreeing with me, mate.”

Rolling his eyes, Paul sighed and dropped his arms from their position folded over his chest, “Fine. I’ll go if it’ll bloody well please you.”