#there is a big time rush reference hidden in here

[kevinsdsy]

the trojans social media au (pt. 37): hi hii the orlando tweet is inspired by haaland’s story a week or two ago that anon sent in hehehe

the tweet about french is from a tweet @minyard-05 sent my way (which btw,, SO REAL) & shawn’s list about things he cries about is inspired from an inbox @carbon-date-me sent my way SO THANK YOU EVERYONE <333333

[lunaekalenda]

The Heir's Favorite

warnings for the series: smut (only part two), mid violence (generally not explicit)

warnings for this chapter: referred violence. mentions of decapitation (non explicit), suggestive, kinda manipulation from sylus? i swear the fluff comes on the next

part one - part two - part three

You keep your head low, eyes fixed on the luxurious floor, decorated with golden flowers and red jewels. All this luxury, the velvety curtains the guards made to a side for you to enter, the shining of a golden vase in a near rich wood table, the scent of the most aromatic vanilla, makes you dizzy. You can't hear steps, you can't hear nothing, as if the whole chamber became silent to make your heartbeat even more noticeable. The guards that brought you here less than half an hour ago are also silent, as they were while you spent time on the Harem with the rest of the concubines. After dressing up, a strong voice called you, your name, out of all the concubines. All the chats from the room became silence, as all the concubines looked directly at you. You were called. You were summoned. You.

It's well known it's been almost a year since anyone was called. Sylus - the Imperial Prince, the Crow, the Heir. - has been on his title since the coronation of his own cousin, the actual Emperor, the one that started the Harem you got into by chance. And, since that last night the Emperor called a couple of you, you've been living quietly. Never stressed over the fact he would call you, after all, not even the Emperor spent a night with you once. You don't think it'll be different with the Heir.

Maybe you're too shy, too laid back, too silent. Maybe your hair is not the length he likes, or your hips the size of his hands. Maybe he's not particularly interested in you. But then, it happened, and now, here you are, kneeling on the cold floor of the palace, in front of the Heir's throne, waiting for him. Your heart beats fast, faster than ever before, as you hear the metallic sound of the blades against the floor. Quiet, serene steps approach you from behind.

"For some reason, my dear cousin loved to keep track of every single concubine he ever had." the voice is deep, harsh, strong. It sounds behind you, but also in front. It's so powerful it seems to be everywhere. "Yet your name was never mentioned. Not even once." the steps sound dangerously close to your head. "I found it, though. Wrote on rough letters, on a paper hidden between the rest. You were the last to enter the Harem, and the only words of my cousin were that your shyness kills your beauty." The crack on wood indicates you he is now sitting on his throne. "If that so, lift up your head."

You feel your palms sweaty against your dress, and your cheeks feel hot when you lift your head up slowly, to meet the most attractive man you've ever seen. His red eyes are intense, fixed on you, and you feel like he can read every thought passing through your mind. His angles are sharp, and his white hair falls elegantly on his forehead. He tilts his head, giving you a side smile. "Indeed, very beautiful." he murmurs, in low voice. His words make your face heat up, and his brow raises slowly, amused by your reaction. Your eyes move from his face back to the floor, before searching the courage to speak.

"Thank you, Your Highness." your voice trembles as you speak. His steps are heard again, walking around you. You fear he'll kick you from the Harem. It's not the life you've dreamt of, that's true, but you can eat hot and sleep warm.

His steps stop suddenly behind you, before you hear the rushed ones of the guards, who leave and close the big ornamented doors of the main entrance. Now you're alone. You wait, patiently, but with your heart racing against your chest. After what seem ages, he speaks.

"Do you fear me?" he asks, voice even lower. He's still behind you, and you're still too nervous to take your gaze up. But, do you really fear him? Until now, he has only been a shadow around the Imperial Palace. Nothing more than a man surrounded by guards, nothing more than a name. But, still, your life always depended on him. Your stance at the Harem, your food, your bed, your body. Everything you are, everything you have, belongs to him. The mere thought of making him angry terrifies you. You've seen enough swords beheading fellow Harem members to risk being next. You take air.

"I do, your Highness." you confess. He walks again, until you're able to see the tip of his shoes in front of you, before he kneels. His hand takes your head, softly, so sweetly, it doesn't match with him, with his fierceness, his hardness. Your eyes find his, and he seems to freeze, his eyes turning softer for a second, before he raises a brow. Anything you saw on his expression is suddenly gone.

"Good. Fear assures loyalty." His thumb caresses your cheek, dangerously close to your lips, before he talks again. "You're interesting." his eyes scan your face, your eyes, your lips. They keep going down, your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. He moistens his lips with his tongue, quietly, and all the blood rushes to your cheeks. Oh, goddess. He chuckles. "Something happened? Your face became hot to my touch." His palm leaves your cheek, but his fingers dance on your skin, sweetly, softly, caressing from the corner of your lips down to your neck. "My cousin might have found you too shy to enjoy." he whispers. His chest rises when he takes air, getting dangerously close to you, with your knees between his. "But, I'm not him."

You understand what he implied with that sentence. Will you be called as the rest of the Harem is? Will he summon you to his chambers from time to time? Will you - maybe - have to join another Harem member?

You want to cry. Why? You've been safe all this years, between the shadows of the Harem, unnoticed, untouched. Why does he have to put his eye on you?

"Although, there's something no one in the Harem can do, and I'm sure you'll think about it. Something no one can offer." He stands up. He asks you to do the same with a movement of his fingers, more an order than a request. He walks towards his throne with fluid motion, where he sits, hand resting on his temple. You stand in front of him, looking down at your own shoes, unable to look at him. The room is too silent, and you feel too little between the big dragon pillars and the enormous seat he's occupying. "Promise me loyalty." his question makes you look up violently, your eyes colliding with his. His posture on the throne - relaxed, stretched. - makes him even bigger. "Promise me loyalty as your Prince, and I'll do so as my concubine." your face shocks with his words. He moves his hand, asking you to get closer to the throne. The open-mouthed jade dragon on top of it welcomes you when you arrive. Less than a step away from him. His eyes shine with something dangerous. "Move from the Harem to this palace. I'll make sure you'll have everything you need. Food, baths, a bed." All his promises are sweetening your ears. "Offer me your loyalty and I can make you my queen." You stand there, frozen, confused. One answer he doesn't like, and your head will be the price to pay for your mistakes. Is he offering? Is he demanding? You find yourself nodding out of fear, although, the promise of a better life draws you to say yes.

"Say it." are his only words.

"Yes, your Highness. I offer my loyalty, myself and my body." You try to sound convincing, and he smiles.

"Interesting. I will keep my part of the promise. I expect the same from your side." He reclines back into his throne, still looking directly at you. "You may leave now. Gather your things on the Harem and I'll send two guards to bring you to your new place." With a quick nod, you leave the throne room as fast as you can.

When you arrive to the Harem, you feel the change in the air. They're no longer workmates, they're enemies. Their hateful gazes and the whispers you can hear while taking your things indicate so. You ignore all of them, quickly putting all your things in a tiny chest, just in time for the guards to pick you up. Walking between the rest of the Harem with your belongings, you feel targeted. You're not another concubine; you've been chosen personally by the Heir. You follow them at a normal distance, your room silent when you arrive, way too good for only you. "The Heir awaits you for a nocturne game of Mahjong. New clothes are on the bed. Don't be late, he doesn't like to wait."

The guards leave you in the silence of your new room, as you scan the bed. Between the new clothes - all of them of the highest quality." you find yourself attracted to a red gown, the color of blood. You change into that and walk in the labyrinthine corridors before standing in front of the golden gates of his chambers. Catching your breath, you knock. His voice sounds deep from inside.

"Enter."

And your destiny is sealed while you push the golden dragon knob, entering the Heir's room.

taglist: @i-am-silver @strawbunnydrop22 @princess-harvey @houmi

[roonotrue]

Day 1 - Ice Skating with Vil!

General Masterpost

Prologue, Day 2

Prompt: In the end Epel is the one who manages to convince a housewarden to help, specifically getting Vil to help distract the MC while he and the other freshies enact their plan, which is now being referred to as Operation 'Christmas Miracle!'

Reader: GN reader - They/Them pronouns and the reader is called 'MC/Prefect.' The reader also knows how to ice skate but hasn't in a while. (I am too scared to ever try ice skating, but for those of you who do Merry Christmas.)

Included Characters: Vil Schoenheit

Warnings: Mild Swearing.

Tags: @twistedcece

~~~

It's been weeks since you spoke with your fellow freshmen about the winter holidays in your world, and the cold has really come rushing in full force at NRC.

Snow blankets the ground, and students wear thick layers to class to keep warm.

You didn't really have any thick layers to bundle up in, but luckily Professor Crewel noticed this when you and Grim came into class a Prefect and Cat-shaped popsicle, ten minutes late. He then personally saw to yell at Crowley in his office for twenty whole minutes about letting you freeze to death.

So now you have a winter coat.

Big enough for Grim to hide in with you when heading to class. Maybe you can wrangle some gloves out of him to if you play your cards right.

But that's none of this is the point. The point is, it's cold enough to go ice skating on the pond outside the Alchemy Workshop.

Which Vil invited you to go do.

Vil.

Vil Schoenheit.

Invited you.

To go... Ice skating.

The famous model and actor, and the Housewarden of Pomefiore (though much less relevant than the FAMOUS MODEL AND ACTOR part) invited YOU... To go ice skating with him.

Okay, look, it's not that you find it hard to believe (you do actually find it very hard to believe), it's just that... Vil is... Vil.

And you're you. In his eyes, a potato. Not that you mind. Most people are potatoes compared to Vil Scheonheit, but also, potatoes aren't that bad of a comparison.

One of the most diverse ingredients and stand-alone foods in this world and yours. Easily able to fit into any dish or meal as a main ingredient or a side.

You'd say since coming to NRC, you fit that description kind of well.

The point is, you and Vil are friends, but like, you've never gone and done something alone with him like this. You'd asked if other Pomefiore students might be there (namely Rook or Epel), but he'd said it'd just be you two.

Alone. Without one of the idiots (read: friends) in your life (take your pick, there are many), contributing to, or leading the conversation.

You're totally not overthinking this or anything.

You try way too hard to wear something nicer than usual- but as mentioned before, you don't have a ton of warm clothes. And they'll be covered by your coat anyway so why the hell does it matter?

Because it's Vil. That's why it matters. You want to look nice.

"You know, I still think the first shirt was the nicest." Grim mutters between bites of tuna.

Which you don't appreciate considering you gave him that can so he'd shut up for a minute.

"It had a hole in it, Grim. Do you really think Vil wouldn't notice that?" You scoff, searching your closet for another nicer button-up.

The only good one you have is for your school uniform, but it needs to be washed, and you don't have time for that- Vil is literally on his way to pick you up.

"No, cuz it'll be hidden under the coat! Now hurry up, he just texted you he's here."

"What!?" You rush to your phone, quickly throwing on the shirt, rushing to button it up as you see the text.

"Okay, okay, okay- Uh, I left another can of tuna on the counter for you if you get hungry while I'm gone, and if anyone swings by needing me for something- I'm dead, got it?" You tell Grim, putting on your coat.

"Sure thing, henchhuman! Stay out as late as you need, the Great Grim has got things handled!" He says with a large smile, way too excited for you to leave.

Normally he complains anytime you go somewhere without him and get's all grumpy or will end up sneaking along after you. 

But today, he's been all too happy to help you get ready and push you out the door.

It's suspicious. He's been acting suspiciously for the last two weeks.

So have the others. Avoiding you, getting anxious and awkward when you're around. Lying.

You're not an idiot. They're up to something. You can't quite figure out what exactly but you can reckon it's probably something that you're going to have to fix later.

But right now, you've got more pressing issues.

Like stopping at the hall mirror to make sure your hair isn't messed up, and your skin's not greasy or anything.

When you open the door Vil is, as always, the vision of perfection. Dressed snuggly in a deep blue winter coat, black leather gloves, and a white fur scarf, his hair tied back in a bun, only the front half left loose to frame his face as it usually does.

His violet eyes glimmer when he sees you, swiftly putting his phone back in his pocket.

"There you are, are you ready to go?" He smiles.

"Yep!" You chuckle as you rub your hands together at the cold breeze that comes rushing in from outside.

It snowed particularly hard last night, so classes had been canceled today. But right now, the sky is clear, and the fresh snow sparkles under the late morning light.

The motion, however, catches Vil's eye, whose smile drops as he looks you up and down and raises a brow.

"It's quite cold out, MC, are you sure you don't want to put on gloves? And a scarf you be a good idea too. And maybe a different coat, that one simply is not your color, who did you let pick it out, Crowley? It hardly looks warm enough for the weather." He asks, poking at the sleeve of the item.

Actually, yes, he did pick it out. The cheapest one he could find.

"It's the only coat I have, and I don't have any gloves or anything. It's fine though, I've gotten pretty used to the cold by now." You laugh it off, and Vil's eyes narrow.

"Hm. Very well, let's just get going, I'm sure we can swing by Sam's shop and pick you up something." He nods, resolute.

"Oh, I don't really have any money for it. Not if I want to eat something other than the cheap microwave meals Crowley leaves for me over break." You wave your hands, stepping outside and closing the door before you let any more heat out.

It was hard enough getting the furnace working, you're not wasting a single second of the warmth it provides before it breaks again.

"Microwave meals!? Is that birdbrained idiot trying to kill you!? Do you know how many preservatives and chemicals are in those!?" Vil looks horrified and you can't help but chuckle, scratching at the back of your head nervously.

"Well, food is food, as Ruggie would say. We can worry more about it later if you'd like, but I'd really like to have some sort of fun on my snow day, don't you?" You ask, trying to change the subject.

The housewarden cringes at the idea of dropping the subject, but lets out a defeated sigh.

"Fine. We will be talking about this later though. Or at least I'll be talking with Crowley next housewarden's meeting." He mumbles the last bit as he grabs your arm, looping it through his.

Oh. Oh.

He leads the way down Ramshackle steps towards the gate. And you try not to think about you two looking awfully a lot like a couple.

Ice skating is a common winter date where you're from... And then you have a thought.

A stomach-dropping thought.

Is this a date?

You nearly stumble to a stop at the thought.

You didn't think to ask. Why would you!? It was such a random out-of-the-blue offer! You didn't think 'Would you like to go ice skating with me today?' translated to anything nonplatonic!

It's probably not a date. Probably.

So you quickly decide to distract yourself from the warmth radiating from where your and Vil's arms are locked.

"So, you wouldn't happen to know what's up with Epel lately? He and the others have been avoiding me. I think they're planning something, but I don't know what." You mention, and Vil glances at you with a small smirk.

"It just so happens I do. And trust me, it's nothing to worry about. Let's just focus on us today, yes?"

Oh, this might be a fucking date.

Fuuuuuuuck.

You would have tried so much harder to look nicer if you'd realized this sooner!

"O-okay. Well, how have you been with all the cold weather? Are you excited for the break?" You ask, suddenly feeling very nervous.

"I don't mind the cold, it dries out the skin, but simply adding an extra hydration step to my skincare routine in the morning and night is a simple fix for it." He informs and you smile.

"I've tried that face scrub stuff you got for me, and it works really well. Smells nice too. I'm almost out of it, so I'll have to save up for some more." You mention, the gift- or well, 'charity' as he called it at the time a few months ago, of skincare products.

It was nice of him, and you're pretty sure it was a 'thank you' for helping him during his overblot. Which is more than you got from Leona.

You've been able to set up a routine for yourself with it, probably nothing as complicated as his routine, but you're proud to say you have seen some improvements.

"Oh? I'm glad, I wasn't sure you'd use any of them, Epel certainly doesn't." He scoffs, and you chuckle.

"Yet somehow has incredible skin." You remark as you walk out the gate and towards the Alchemy Workshop

"I know, as to how he got so lucky when all he does is wash it with water and a cloth in the morning- sometimes- I will never understand." Vil sighs, bringing a hand to his head in disappointment.

"Well, at least he's got you to look out for him. Wish I were so lucky to have gotten the fair Vil Schoenheit as a guide throughout my time here at NRC. All I got was Crowley." You sigh, unintentionally leaning into him as a cold breeze passes through.

"Hm, well, if you'd like I can certainly dedicate some of my time to help you with self-care and style? And trust me, it's no burden on me. After all, if we're going to be seen together more, it ought to be my job to make sure you look good enough to impress. I want the world to see you as beautiful on the outside as I know you are on the inside." He meets your wide-eyed gaze with a soft smile.

There's a fondness in his eyes that you don't think you've ever seen before.

A fondness meant just for you.

"Oh my, are you sure you're not cold? Your face is all red." He asks, though there's a knowing look in his eyes and a smirk on his lips.

Oh, he's teasing you.

"I'm fine! I just didn't expect that! I don't get compliments often, you know?" You turn away, focusing on the path ahead of you.

"Oh, I doubt that sweet potato, with how selfless and determined you are? There are a lot of people here at NRC who should be singing your praises for everything you do for them." He brings his other free hand to rest on top of your arm, still locked with his.

"Well, all I really hear is people telling me that I shouldn't be so kind, or that I'm naive, too trusting, too generous, and foolish for never requesting anything in return... Sometimes it's like none of the students here even know what kindness is, the way they react to it." You can see the Alchemy Workshop ahead of you.

"Hm, I see. Well, I might agree in some aspects that you're too trusting and generous at times, but for the most part, it's... Not a bad thing. You've helped people, MC, even at your own detriment, and though the idea of you continuing to do so worries me, I know you will. Because you have a good heart. You care about people, even when they don't deserve your care. It's admirable." He sighs wistfully, staring off ahead, the condensation of his breath floating in the icy air around his face.

You pause when you reach the Alchemy Workshop, looking at him as he turns to you questioningly.

"... Thanks, Vil. You have a good heart too. Even if you don't show it very often. You look after your dormmates and underclassmen, you make sure they're taking care of themselves, eating healthy, and doing well in school. You encourage their passions a lot, even Epel's love for Spelldrive, despite not liking the sport yourself. You have your own way of caring about people, it's a more 'tough love' style than mine, but it's still just as admirable." You know he's thinking back to his own overblot and behavior leading up to it.

To be honest, it was bad, but people are more than just their worst moments.

And perhaps that is you being too forgiving, but empathy is something that NRC has been lacking for a long time. So perhaps it's just your cross to bear.

Vil meets your eyes for a long moment, thoughts swirling around those long lashes and pretty lavender irises.

"The way you're able to see people, sweet potato... It's a remarkable ability, you know that right?" He finally smiles, and it remains the most beautiful sight you've ever known.

"A blessing and a curse at times. Now come on, I wanna ice skate!" You laugh and pull at the connection of your arms to usher him forward.

"So you do know how? I never thought to ask, but I figured if you didn't I could teach you." Vil inquires as you walk around the building to see the frozen pond.

It looks beautiful, sparkling in the daylight. There are a few students on the other side skating, but they're far enough that you and Vil can still skate with plenty of room. It's a big pond after all.

"Kind of, I haven't in a while, so I might be a bit rusty- and certainly not as elegant as I'm sure you are." Of all the talents for Vil Schoenheit to have, ice skating may be the least surprising.

It's a beautiful hobby. Elegant, graceful, refined, and mature. All words that can describe ice skating and Vil.

"I only started learning a few years ago, and only really in the wintertime when I'm home alone on break. I picked it up to pass the time." He explains, walking you over to the pond edge where two bags sit- a note attached.

"You're alone during winter break?" You ask, slightly hesitant, not wanting it to be a sensitive topic, but he probably wouldn't have mentioned it if it was, right?

"Yes, my father's work schedule is usually packed, so he's not home often. I have the house to myself for the most part, save for the housekeepers." He picks up the note (you see that it's signed 'from Rook') and opens the bag nearest so you both can see the white ice skates inside.

"Oh, well, you can always call or text me during break if you get bored. I'd enjoy hearing from you." You grab the other bag as he hands it to you (ignoring how your hands brush), and he chuckles.

"I just might, sweet potato. Here, I sent Rook to buy these for you, so don't worry about returning them to me." He tells you.

You brush snow off a nearby tree stump and sit down to put them on. They fit perfectly, and you don't even want to begin to guess how Rook got your shoe size.

"You sure? I can pay you back-"

"Don't worry about it. Consider them one of your gifts. Now, let's go, we don't have all day." 

Wait, one of your what-

You stumble a bit and Vil's arm darts out to steady you.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, fine, just haven't worn a pair of these in a while!" You laugh it off, and you both make your way to the ice.

Vil is as elegant as you thought he'd be, gliding across the ice smoothly. You have a rocky start, nearly slipping straight onto your butt the moment you touch the ice, but you find your balance quickly.

The memories of your last time skating flow back to the forefront of your mind, and you manage to not look like a complete fool gliding across the ice with Vil.

"Gosh, it feels like so long ago since I last did this!" You laugh, doing slow wide circles around the ice with Vil.

"Hm, it is a rather elegant winter activity, we could make it a tradition if you'd like? Coming to ice skate before winter break. It would keep either of us from getting too rusty and I can give you some of the hydrating face masks I use in the morning and night to keep your face from getting dry- and lip balm, chapped lips will not be accepted while we're together." He asks you, and you turn to him, skating in front of him backward.

It's a bold offer. Everything about Vil had been bold today. Does he truly like you? Like, like-like you?

You certainly like-like him.

By the seven you sound like a middle schooler with their first ever crush. Hell, you've certainly felt like one for... Awhile now.

Every time you're near him, acting like a blushing idiot, twirling your hair and giggling. You're not actually doing either of those things, but you sure feel like it!

Ever since his overblot, he's been a consistent voice of reason in your life, helping you curb the chaotic tendencies of those around you every time he's around.

And somewhere along the line, you've developed that terrible fluttering in your stomach that people call a crush every time he speaks to you. Or offers to help with something. Or looks at you. Or calls you 'sweet potato' which really only started just before Halloween.

God, he really has been dropping big hints, huh? So you should make a bold move too, right?

By the seven, please don't let this backfire.

"I'd love to, but only if you let me take you out to dinner afterward." You smile, the slightest of nervous flushes on your face, and his eyes widen, startled, but so does his smirk.

"How bold. And here I was worried that even after today you wouldn't get the hint. It's a date, sweet potato." He skates closer to you.

"I'm not that dense you know, just... In a state of shock that you'd want to go out with me. You do know you could have anyone right? You're a famous model, actor, and the housewarden of Pomefiore. From what I've seen so far, there isn't a girl or guy alive that wouldn't throw themselves at your feet." You acknowledge and he just laughs.

"Ah, yes, all the guys and girls that would love to be with me just for my looks, fame, and money. No, thank you. I'll stick with one of the only people in the world who sees me. Who appreciates my help, even when others think I'm being a bitch. Who values my advice, and actually listens to it. Who makes me feel like I... for a single second... Don't need to try so hard to be perfect." You stop skating at his words.

So does he.

"Vil... You never have to be perfect with me. I'm not perfect. Neither is anyone I know- I mean, look at my best friends! They're morons! But I still love them! Because they make me laugh. They care about my wellbeing- in their own ways, and they're there for me when I really need them." You list fondly, skating just a bit closer to grab Vil's gloved hand.

"That's all I really need from anyone, and maybe to some people, that's a low bar, but hey, I'm happy. So it must not be that bad of a thing, you know? So if you're up to doing just those three things, then I'll gladly date you, and do the same in return." When you look up at him, he's watching you closely.

Or well, maybe not you.

Your lips.

"I think I'm quite capable of doing all of that. And more, if you'd allow me?" He glances to meet your gaze his hand coming up to cradle your cheek.

You smile and nod.

And he kisses you. Slow, soft, and gentle. Warmth fills you, making the cold that your cheap coat couldn't keep out, melt away.

You lean into the kiss, and you have to stop yourself from chasing after it when he pulls away.

"Lots of those. That's also part of the deal- I require lots of those." You sigh wistfully and he laughs.

Bright, and melodic, and real.

You move to skate an inch back just to see it better and-

"Ack-!"

Your skate catches on something, stalling and sending you falling back.

Your arms frantically reach to grab something and stabilize yourself. At the same time, Vil quickly reaches forward to grab you, which he does, but then his skate trips over the same thing that must have tripped you.

You land in snow.

Ah. You two were at the edge of the pond.

You tripped on solid ground.

And dragged Vil down with you.

Not a great start to the relationship.

It takes a moment of blinking to fully process what just happened but when you do, you find Vil on top of you, a single hair fallen out of his bun.

Without thinking you reach out and tuck it behind his ear so it's less noticeable to someone who isn't this close to him.

His eyes meet yours and you flush, suddenly bashful and worried all at once.

"I'm so sorry! Are you okay!?" You ask, feeling the snow below you, freezing cold seeping through your coat and clothes.

You use your hands to prop yourself up, ignoring the cold and how it starts to sting.

"I'm alright, are you?" He asks and you nod, looking around, your happy you two are now the only ones at the pond.

Vil may have agreed to date you, but he might quickly retract it if anyone saw that.

You sigh in relief, and then... You can't stop yourself from laughing.

"Care to enlighten me on what's so funny about this? Ugh, I've probably messed up my hair- and my clothes-" He pushes himself up, standing swiftly, brushing the snow off of his coat.

"Because we weren't paying attention at all!" You snort out, still laughing at the whole clumsy situation.

"Exactly! You could have gotten hurt, you are aware of that, correct?" He scolds, leaning down to offer you a hand up, which you gladly take while still giggling.

"Yeah, but we didn't, and this will be a hilarious first date story someday." You struggle to balance only for a second when he pulls you to your feet (he's stronger than you thought, duly noted) but he holds your arms to keep you steady.

"We are not telling anyone that I fell." He says firmly, but you smile up at him and can immediately see that fondness softening his sharp glare.

"Of course not. The beautiful and fair, Vil Schoenheit was my hero, helping me up, checking for injuries, kissing them better-" He scoffs as you giggle out the lie.

"We're not telling anyone that either, sweet potato. Let's just stick with you fell, and I helped you up, yes?" He smirks, and you sigh with a smile still glued to your face.

"As you wish, my fairest." You loop your arms and begin skating out towards the middle of the ice once more.

"How about you show me some of those fancier moves you were doing earlier? The figure skating stuff. I'm no master like you, but I think I can learn a few things." You suggest.

"I wouldn't call myself a master, but I can show you a few things I've learned, so watch closely, sweet potato."

"Oh, trust me, I will."

You two spend the next hour skating, Vil teaching you some more advanced moves, which leads to you falling once or twice more, but you get a few down before evening rolls around with no serious injury.

"I think we should probably head back now, my hands are going to go numb." You sigh, a little disappointed to call it quits, but your hands hurt from how cold they are, and you legs are getting tired too.

"That's probably for the best, to much time out in the cold is terrible for the skin." He sighs, already skating towards you.

"I though you had hydrating face masks for that?" You joke and he rolls his eyes.

"There's only so much a face mask can protect you from and prevent. Are you hungry? We can grab something to eat before we go back, my treat this time, since I was the one who invited you out after all." He suggests and you would like to protest that you should at least pay for your share but- you really don't have the money.

And you're actually starving. You both kind of skipped any kind of lunch, being too distracted with skating and confessions and all that.

Note to self, pack lunches next year.

"Sure, Mostro Lounge would be the best option-" You go to recommend, but Vil quickly interrupts.

"I was thinking of somewhere else. You've been to Mostro Lounge dozens of times, but I'd love to bring you to a restaurant in town that I think you'd like." He asks pulling out his phone and typing something very quickly.

"Oh? Okay. So long as Azul doesn't find out I'm cheating on him with another restaurant, we should be fine." You chuckle and your words draw one from Vil to.

"It's a small place, quaint, quiet, and... Homey. I think you'll enjoy it." Good, so nothing that's 5-star fine dining.

You're really not dressed for that kind of restaurant.

"Alright, but I should stop by and tell Grim I'll be out a little longer, or he might get worried."

"Oh, I think he'll be fine. You can text someone else to check on him if you're really worried, or I can have Rook do it?" He pulls you a bit closer to him as you shiver a bit from a cold wind.

Oh, yeah, Grim will definitely be fine.

"Alright. Lead the way, my fairest." You sigh with a dopey smile, and he glances down at you with a smirk.

"Is that your pet name for me now?" He asks with a raised brow and you nudge him.

"Like you can judge, you literally call me a potato!" You laugh.

"A sweet potato." He correct.

"Still a potato. But it's fine. I quite like it. Would you like me to call you something else?" You ask, tilting your head in his direction and he hums in thought.

"No, I think that will work. As well as darling, love, sweetheart, beauty, my queen- those all work too." He smiles proudly, and you giggle.

"Of course, my queen." You give a small, mock bow, and it's his turn to nudge you.

Today has been... Wonderful.

And even if you're alone during winter break, at least you know Vil is only a text or phone call away.

It'll be a good Christmas this year. You just know it.

~~~

Vote for the next character below!

[lunarriviera]

the sugar water scene

Luo Wenzhou looked him over and suddenly asked, “Do you often stay here by yourself?” Fei Du opened his eyes at once. Though his posture didn’t change, Luo Wenzhou could feel Fei Du’s nerves tense instantly. […] “What’s the problem?” After a pause, Fei Du showed him an unassailable smile. “It’s my home.” While his tone was gentle, his answer was a defensive one, a needle hidden in silk floss, impossible to answer.

[me frothing at the mouth about this scene behind the cut]

episode 13 is maybe the most memorable so far, not just bc it's one of those classic cdrama turning points, that moment when you go oh ariana we're really in it now. shit has been undeniably fucked-up throughout, but this is where, if you're a mo du virgin, you suddenly—exactly like luo wenzhou!—are asked to reevaluate your whole assessment of fei du, very radically and very very quickly. the focal length changes so fast it makes you dizzy and in need of luo-dui to carry you to the sofa and give you sugar water. because OH FUCK OH SHIT FEI DU IS NOT JUST A WEEDY LITTLE PAMPERED FUERDAI WITH RENAL DEFICIENCY, SHIT SHIT SHIT, HE'S, HE, OH MY GOD, WHAT THE FUCK, etc.

(or idk—maybe you're mentally healthy so you're just like huh, didn't see that one coming, poor kid, while you're on your phone making an appointment to get the car's oil changed and checking slack notifs)

but in mo du, this is just the first big reveal (NOT THE LAST) so it slams into you with all the subtlety of that one video showing what gravity on the sun is like. before this scene, to lwz, fei du is mostly just That Weird Gloomy Kid always hanging around tao ran. (seriously do not rush them: at this point they're both still laboring under the delusion that they vehemently dislike one another.)

but what just happened in the novel is of course the following:

• fei du lost the closest thing he might have had to a friend his own age, and also all his meals for the last month in a bathroom sink;

• lwz drives him home but can tell there's something wrong besides just "friend got stabbed in front of him." but when he tries to ask, fei du distracts him by "committing assault on an officer,"—e.g. pouncing on him in the driver's seat and kissing the breath out of him.

• lwz is feverishly susceptible to this onslaught because he's starting to like fei du. to his chagrin, he's starting to like him rather a lot. so he kisses back, lust-addled, before he gets back control of his brain and decides, as he has been doing for 3 whole volumes now, that fei du is just fucking with him. flirting to exercise some kind of weird one-upmanship, to prove lwz is…what, gay? single? kind of hard up atm?

• flustered and upset, lwz lifts fei du off, tosses him back into the passenger seat, and tells him to get out of the car. but he still watches him walk towards the villa, bc he's still worried, bc he's almost ready to admit to himself that he's maybe kind of into fei du.

Agitated, he glared at Fei Du’s back in the rearview mirror, the faint bit of warmth in his heart leaking away entirely; he didn’t know whether he wanted to peel off Fei Du’s clothes or simply peel off his skin.

yet another reference to fei du's "painted skin," which comes up again and again, and which you can LITERALLY SEE HIM PUTTING BACK ON HIS FACE in the fourth gif, above—because at some point in drama school, zhang xincheng had a stanislavsky professor who taught him to anchor character through physical business. he puts on those glasses like they're armor. sorry, luo wenzhou, brief moment of vulnerability is over. president fei is back in control.

there's also another kiss missing from the drama (inevitably, and i'm not complaining)—but this one's given by luo wenzhou, this time:

Luo Wenzhou…suddenly bent down and kissed him on the forehead. Fei Du: “…” Luo Wenzhou not very gently stroked his rumpled hair, clearly seeing panic flash across Fei Du’s face.—It really was strange that a playboy who could flirt a person into a fantasy, who was equal to anything, would panic like a child someone had confessed their feelings to for the first time because a person kissed his forehead. It was as if he’d never known warmth in his life.

since we don't get this kiss, i suspect the equivalent emotional beat is meant to be the newly added flashback, with young lwz brushing baby fei du's hair off his forehead before feeling it worriedly for fever. the drama keeps doing these emotional equivalencies and it's so, so smart. (it also cracks me up bc it inadvertently turns up the age gap vibes to 11. maybe the showrunners thought if they used an actor who looked 14, that might be awkward? so instead they cast a kid who looks 8 and somehow just managed to make it all even weirder.)

also can i just repeat one of the most importance sentences in this novel so far: IT WAS AS IF HE'D NEVER KNOWN WARMTH IN HIS LIFE (and i desperately want to subject you to fanart of the forehead kiss, so here's one amazing version from the brilliant sitervlitoy).

…because there are things fei du feels confident he can handle:

• violence and death (when followed promptly by self-punishment); • aggressively seducing people in general, so they don't notice whatever he's putting over on them; • riling up lwz in specific so he won't be what he is: a detective, and maybe start detecting things fei du doesn't want him to know. such as that he's about a centimeter away from total psychic collapse.

…and then there are the things fei du really can't handle:

• forehead kisses—undemanding, freely given, expressive of nothing but pure fondness and care, and which are a metaphor for: • the actual reality of luo wenzhou, who isn't dumb and isn't that easy to distract, and who has always paid very close attention to fei du. as he tells him bluntly later, "you were asking me to pull you out." (from what exactly? well, we have a few more episodes to go, to get there.)

[and then there's the whole part where lwz literally throttles him on the sofa, to prove his point. but y'all ain't ready for that yet.]

so just two more things about the drama's sugar water scene—first, note fei du's attempt, above, at his trademark saccharine peach-blossom smile, the incredibly condescending one. but he's a little too frayed to pull it off, the same way he could only barely wave tiredly towards the kitchen (once again, zxc acting with his whole body).

then, luo wenzhou's tiny sigh in response: "oh so we're back to this again, are we? right, got it. back to the game where you pretend you're fine and i pretend i find you a nuisance. sure, i can play, but guess what: you get to listen to another chinese dad lecture, only this time it has a real point, and i'm not letting you off that easily."

—because then luo wenzhou discovers the basement, and he'll never be able to see fei du the same way again. it breaks something in him, cracks it wide open, because for all his bluster and impulsive hot-headed gong irritability [stares directly into camera at misguided individual who referred to him as a red flag], au fond luo wenzhou is a guy who loves his parents and loves his friends and loves his cat, and will fish his police ID badge out of the trash with an unbent coat hanger because he also loves his job. priest really gave her favorite son luo wenzhou everything he'd need in this life to be emotionally healthy—and from this point on in the narrative, he'll be determined to make sure fei du gets everything lwz has to give, and then some.

[jungkoode]

FUCK ME UP | FRAGMENTS

˗ˏˋ polaroid memories ˎˊ˗

"It’s not like Taehyung meant to go looking for ghosts—he just wanted his damn charger back. Funny how the past never waits for an invitation."

⋆｡°✩ story details ✩°｡⋆

collection: HIDDEN MOMENTS (FMU)

wordcount: 3k

content: slice of life / character study, emotional intimacy, bittersweet nostalgia, found family undertones, quiet vulnerability, heavy emotional themes (childhood trauma, parental emotional neglect, implied domestic violence, implied emotional abuse and manipulation in past relationship), non-linear memory recall through photographs, friendship depth, character study on Taehyung’s perspective of Jungkook’s history, swearing, accidental emotional exposure, post-Mia timeline, roommate and found family references, charger theft as a plot device (lmao), soft but heavy tone with moments of reluctant humor

✧ author's note ✧

Hi hi hi!

Random drop of the week! I had this half-finished for a while now and I decided to sit my ass down and finally give it the closure it deserved. So here we are! I know I just made the public PSA about the unfortunate unvoting wave that took place recently, and how that pushed us into having to patiently rebuild towards Chapter 21’s original vote goals on WP again and Chapter 22’s current vote goal. I meant what I said when I promised I wouldn’t leave Kikizens hanging while that happens. I do have a few drabbles and smaller pieces planned while we climb our way back—this is the first of them. Consider it a little something to hold you over while we get back on track.

As always, Fuck Me Up isn’t an easy story to read, and it was never meant to be. It’s messy. It’s quiet when you want it to be loud, and loud when you wish it would just shut up. It sits in your chest in a way that’s hard to swallow sometimes, because that’s what trauma does. It doesn’t scream all the time. Sometimes it lingers in small things—a shoebox under a bed, a picture you didn’t mean to find, a moment when you realize you’ve known someone for so long that their past feels heavier in your hands than it does in theirs.

This is one of those pieces. It doesn’t give you the big emotional breakdown. It doesn’t solve anything. It doesn’t even really explain itself. Because that’s how memory works. It’s fragmented, it’s incomplete, and it rarely comes with all the context you wish you had.

So please read carefully. This one is soft in tone but heavy in weight. It’s not graphic, but it is deeply uncomfortable if you sit with it long enough—and that’s exactly the point. It’s meant to make you sit. To notice the silences. To feel the weight of the things Jungkook never says.

Thread carefully, take breaks if you need them, and remember: FMU has never been about rushing to the answers. It’s about sitting in the questions long enough to feel them for real.

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main story: fuck me up

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The box wasn't supposed to be there.

Taehyung glared at the battered shoebox tucked beneath Jungkook's bed, unearthed only because he was searching for that stupid charger his friend had ‘borrowed’ three weeks ago and never returned. 

Just like Jungkook to take his shit without asking. 

It shouldn't have caught his attention—just another cardboard casualty in Jungkook's chaotic unpacking system—but the faded marker on its side made his breath catch: ‘Before.’

He shouldn't touch it. Definitely shouldn't. 

But his fingers were already tracing the edge of the lid, that instinct from fifteen years of friendship telling him exactly what lay inside. Polaroids. The physical evidence of a childhood shared, preserved in chemical development rather than filtered Instagram perfection.

Whatever, he thought, sliding the box from its hiding place.

Jungkook had been living in his apartment for seven months—invading his space, eating his food, leaving windows open—so Taehyung had absolutely zero qualms about invading his privacy now that he'd finally moved out. 

Plus, Jungkook wouldn't be back for hours anyway—Thursday meant dominoes with that old lady downstairs he'd randomly befriended, which meant Taehyung had plenty of time to snoop before he'd hear footsteps in the hallway.

The lid came off with a soft scrape of cardboard. Inside, messily scattered (because of course Jungkook would never organize anything), lay dozens of polaroids. Different sizes, different eras, different cameras—but all carrying fragments of history.

He picked up the first one, sneering slightly at their younger selves. Two boys with chocolate-smeared faces, arms thrown around each other's shoulders. 

Taehyung remembered that day. 

His mom had taken them for ice cream after Jungkook's piano recital, the one where he'd played that Mozart piece perfectly but still looked like he might throw up from nerves.

"Such a neurotic kid," Taehyung muttered, tossing it aside to pick up another.

This one made him snort—thirteen-year-old Jungkook with that ridiculous bowl cut his mom had insisted on, looking ready to commit murder while Taehyung posed beside him with an exaggerated thumbs-up. They'd been at summer camp, three weeks of mosquito bites and midnight raids on the counselors' cabin and swimming in that lake that always smelled like something had died in it.

Taehyung sorted through them quickly, impatience mixed with reluctant nostalgia. There they were with their first skateboards, knees already scraped raw from failed attempts. There was Jungkook passed out on Taehyung's family couch, drooling onto the cushion during one of their weekend movie marathons.

Some polaroids were less innocent—sixteen-year-old versions of themselves flipping off the camera at that punk show they'd snuck into with fake IDs. Seventeen, passing a joint between them on Taehyung's roof, Jungkook's eyes squinted nearly shut as he laughed at something now forgotten.

"We were such little shits," Taehyung muttered, fighting the smile tugging at his lips.

But then his fingers closed around a polaroid shoved deep into the corner of the box, partially hidden beneath the others as if intentionally buried. 

It was older, definitely older—the colors slightly faded, its edges more worn than the rest. 

Eight-year-old Jungkook stood stiffly in what Taehyung recognized as the living room of the old Madison Avenue apartment. 

That pristine white couch. Those gleaming hardwood floors.

Unlike the others, there was no smile on young Jungkook's face. His expression was blank, controlled in that unnatural way children only adopt when they've been told very specifically to behave. 

Standing behind him, his father's hand rested heavily on his shoulder, fingers visibly digging in. The man's smile was perfect—white teeth, successful businessman, Upper East Side perfection—but there was something in his eyes that made Taehyung's stomach clench even now.

Mrs. Jeon stood slightly apart, smile equally practiced but eyes focused somewhere off-camera. 

The sleeve of her cashmere sweater rode up just enough to reveal the edge of what might have been a bruise on her wrist.

Taehyung's throat tightened. He remembered visiting that apartment exactly once. 

The way Jungkook had shown him around with rehearsed politeness, like a museum docent rather than a child in his own home. 

The hushed way they'd played, Jungkook constantly glancing toward the hallway whenever footsteps approached. 

The way Mrs. Jeon had flinched when Mr. Jeon came home early, the sound of his heavy shoes on the hardwood announcing his arrival.

He turned the polaroid over. On the back, in a child's careful handwriting: Family portrait, 2008.

Beneath it, in ink that looked more recent: Before.

"Fuck," Taehyung whispered, something heavy settling in his chest.

He set the photo aside and continued digging, finding more from that era. 

Nine-year-old Jungkook at Taehyung's house for a sleepover, wearing pajamas that were slightly too large—borrowing Taehyung's clothes because he'd arrived with nothing but the outfit he was wearing. Ten-year-old Jungkook with a black eye that his mother had explained away as a baseball accident, though Taehyung couldn't remember Jungkook ever playing baseball.

Then, a polaroid that made his breath catch. 

The two of them, maybe eight years old, sitting on Taehyung's bed. 

Normal enough, except for what was happening in the image. 

Jungkook was crying—not the dramatic tears of a child's tantrum, but the silent, shaking sobs of someone trying desperately not to be heard. Taehyung had his arm around him, looking young and scared and completely out of his depth.

Taehyung remembered that night with painful clarity. It was the first time Jungkook had told him, in halting, confused words, what was happening at home. 

‘Daddy hurt Mommy again. He said it was my fault for making noise during his meeting call.’

He hadn't known what to do except hold his friend and promise not to tell anyone because Jungkook had made him swear. 

‘Daddy says nobody would believe us anyway. He says everyone knows he's an important man and Mommy's just emotional.’

Who had taken this photo? 

Taehyung frowned, trying to remember. His own mother, probably, thinking she was capturing a sweet moment of childhood friendship without realizing what was actually happening. She'd always been annoying with that old polaroid camera.

The next few photos tracked the subtle changes as they approached adolescence. 

Jungkook after the divorce, the relief evident in his looser posture, his more genuine smiles. 

The day they'd painted Jungkook's new bedroom in the downtown apartment his mother had rented—both of them splattered with blue paint, grinning like idiots. 

The new skateboard Jungkook had saved up for, the first major purchase that was entirely his own choice.

There were gaps, of course. No photos of those months when Jungkook had withdrawn completely, refusing to answer texts or phone calls. Nothing from the year his mother had considered moving them to Seattle, a plan Jungkook had fought with uncharacteristic ferocity until she agreed he could stay in New York to finish high school, living with his aunt.

Taehyung set aside another image—sixteen-year-old Jungkook playing guitar for the first time, fingers awkwardly positioned on borrowed strings—and paused at what lay beneath it. 

This polaroid was different, taken with one of those newer instant cameras that tried to mimic the vintage look.

College-aged Jungkook in the early days with Mia. Her arm was wrapped around his waist, her smile dazzling as always. 

Jungkook looked...happy? 

No, that wasn't quite right. 

He looked pleased to be photographed with her, definitely, but there was something weird about it.

Taehyung hadn't noticed it then. Too caught up in his own freshman year chaos, too impressed by Mia's confidence and beauty, her senior status and the way she seemed to know everyone worth knowing on campus.

But looking at it now, he could see the warning signs. The way Jungkook's body angled slightly away from hers even as she pulled him close; the way his eyes sought the camera—sought Taehyung behind it—as if looking for reassurance.

More photos from that period followed, documenting the slow erosion of his friend. 

Jungkook getting thinner, shadows appearing beneath his eyes. Jungkook with Griffin for the first time, the tiny orange kitten cradled carefully in his hands, Mia's manicured fingers visible at the edge of the frame. Jungkook at some party, Mia kissing his cheek while he stared at something off-camera, his expression unreadable.

Then the photos stopped. 

A gap of nearly two years—the belly of the Mia era—before picking up again with what Taehyung recognized as the aftermath.

Jungkook on Taehyung's couch, Griffin curled on his chest, both of them asleep in the gray February light. 

The healing cut on Jungkook's cheekbone visible, a souvenir from that night they never discussed directly. 

Jungkook in the kitchen of Taehyung's apartment, attempting to make sourdough for the first time, flour dusting his black t-shirt. 

Jungkook and Yoongi in the campus recording studio, heads bent together over some project.

The newest photos were from the move to the current apartment. Jungkook and Yoongi hauling furniture up three flights of stairs, both red-faced and sweating. Jungkook assembling IKEA furniture with an expression of intense concentration. Griffin exploring the empty living room, his orange tail held high like a flag.

Nothing with you; the new roommate—sharp-tongued English major with the surprisingly good taste in music that Jungkook had been complaining about non-stop for the past month. The one who apparently gave as good as she got, based on the brief encounters you two had had. 

Taehyung sat back on his heels, looking at the scattered timeline of his best friend's life. 

The before. The during. The after. 

And now, whatever unnamed period they were in currently.

He picked up the family portrait again, studying the stiff posture of that eight-year-old boy. The same boy who had grown into the man who spent seven months sleeping on Taehyung's couch, who still sometimes woke up gasping from nightmares he refused to discuss, who used charm and physical attraction as shields against anything that might actually matter.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

Taehyung's head snapped up. 

Jungkook stood in the doorway, his expression shifting from surprise to annoyance as he took in the scene: Taehyung surrounded by scattered polaroids, the family portrait still in his hand.

"Looking for my charger, asshole," Taehyung replied, making no attempt to hide the evidence. "The one you stole. Found these instead."

Jungkook's eyes darted from the photos to Taehyung's face, then back again. 

For a moment, Taehyung thought he might explode—might demand he put everything back, might refuse to acknowledge what Taehyung had seen.

Instead, Jungkook just exhaled heavily, dropping his backpack by the door and crossing to sit on the edge of the bed.

"You're back early," Taehyung said, more to fill the silence than anything else.

"Dona wasn't feeling well." Jungkook's voice was flat.

Taehyung nodded, filing away the name of this mysterious old lady Jungkook had apparently adopted. 

Another stray, like Griffin. 

His friend had a habit of collecting the vulnerable, though he'd deny it if confronted.

"I haven't looked at these in years," Jungkook continued, reaching down to pick up one of the polaroids—the one of them at the punk show, middle fingers raised defiantly. A small smile tugged at his lips. "Remember how that bouncer almost caught us?"

Taehyung snorted, relief washing through him. "You pulled some parkour shit over that fence. I thought for sure I was getting arrested while you escaped."

"But I came back for you," Jungkook reminded him, his smile growing a fraction.

"Yeah, after letting me panic for ten minutes," Taehyung shot back. "Asshole."

Jungkook's eyes drifted to the family portrait still in Taehyung's hand. His expression shuttered again, but he didn't look away.

"You know," Taehyung said, trying to sound casual, "you should get a new camera. One of those instant ones. Start filling in the gaps."

Jungkook raised an eyebrow. "Gaps?"

Taehyung gestured to the photos. "You've got nothing recent. Nothing with the roommie."

"Why would I want photos of her?" he snorted. "She would probably throw the camera at my head."

Taehyung rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right after calling you something in Shakespeare-speak that you'd have to Google later."

A reluctant smile tugged at Jungkook's lips. "She does that thing where she takes off her glasses first. Like she's preparing for battle."

"Wait, she wears glasses?" Taehyung perked up, filing this new information away. 

Jungkook rarely shared details about people unless they'd made an impression.

"Only for reading. Or when she's trying to look extra judgmental." 

"So basically all the time," Taehyung quipped.

"Pretty much." Jungkook started gathering the scattered photos. "She was reading something the other day—some poetry book—and I swear she quoted the entire thing from memory just to prove me wrong about a line."

"Sounds like she keeps you on your toes."

"More like keeps me from getting any peace in my own apartment," Jungkook paused, holding a photo of them as teenagers, all gangly limbs and bad haircuts. "You know what she did yesterday? Used the last of my coffee. The expensive stuff from that place on 6th. Then left a note that just said 'thanks for the donation to the cause.'"

Taehyung snorted. "What did you do?"

"Hid the coffee grinder, obviously."

"Mature."

"She started it," Jungkook said, sounding so much like his twelve-year-old self that Taehyung couldn't help laughing.

"What's her deal anyway?" Taehyung asked, trying to sound casual. "You've been texting complaints about her for a month but I still don't know anything except that she's an English major with—what did you call it?—'a vocabulary that could flay a man alive.'"

Jungkook shrugged, but Taehyung noticed he took a moment too long to answer. "I don't know much about her. She keeps to herself when she's not arguing with me about the thermostat or the dishes or Griffin sitting on her books."

"Griffin likes her?" 

Oh. That was interesting. The orange menace was notoriously selective.

"Traitor sleeps on her bed when I'm not home." Jungkook's tone suggested this was a personal betrayal of the highest order. "She denies it, but I find his fur on her comforter."

"You've been in her room?" Taehyung raised an eyebrow.

"To get Griffin," Jungkook replied too quickly. "She’s a freak, sometimes gets home late because she’s been studying or something, so. I have to rescue him when she's not home."

"Mmhmm." Taehyung didn't bother hiding his skepticism.

"It's not like that," Jungkook insisted, shooting him a warning look. "She's just temporarily living in the same space. Sharing a bathroom. Touching all my stuff. Using my coffee."

"Sounds terrible," Taehyung deadpanned.

"It is!” Jungkook tossed a balled-up sock at him, which Taehyung dodged easily. "It's just weird, that's all. Living with someone who's not you or Yoongi."

"Does she know?" Taehyung asked, gesturing toward the box of polaroids, particularly the ones from the darker periods.

Jungkook's expression closed off immediately. "Why would she? It's none of her business."

"Just asking."

"Well, don't."

They sat in silence for a moment. Taehyung knew better than to push when Jungkook put up those walls. More than fifteen years of friendship had taught him when to back off.

"You're good, though?" he asked finally. "Living there? With her and Yoongi?"

Something in Jungkook's posture relaxed slightly. 

"Yeah, it's fine. Yoongi's barely around between classes and studio time. And Phoenix—" He caught himself using the nickname, looking momentarily annoyed with himself. "She keeps to herself most of the time. Except when she's stealing my coffee or lecturing me about leaving wet towels on the bathroom floor."

"The horror," Taehyung said flatly. "How do you survive such trauma?"

"Fuck off." Jungkook's mouth quirked up. "Not everyone can be as perfect a roommate as you, with your extreme gratitude of allowing me to sleep on your couch."

"I was a delight to live with and you know it."

"Not even an inflatable mattress? Seriously?”

“You literally said you’d be crashing for two weeks max!”

Jungkook snorted, carefully placing the last of the photos back in the box. 

Taehyung watched as Jungkook slid the box back under his bed, noting that he didn't push it quite as far back as it had been before—leaving it just visible enough that someone might notice it was there. 

A small change, but potentially significant.

"Hey," Taehyung said, suddenly remembering. "We're still on for Saturday, right? That show at Mercury Lounge?"

Jungkook nodded. "Yeah, I'll be there. Might be a little late though—got a project due for Film Production."

"Cool." Taehyung hesitated, then added casually, "You should bring her."

Jungkook looked up sharply. "Who?"

"Y/N. Unless you're afraid she'd actually have fun and ruin your whole 'she's the bane of my existence' narrative."

"She wouldn't want to come," Jungkook said dismissively. "Besides, she's probably working or has some literary thing or whatever."

"So ask her." Taehyung shrugged, trying to appear indifferent. "Or don't. But she’s somewhat fun to be around, and I like seeing someone apparently capable of driving you even crazier than I can."

Jungkook rolled his eyes. "No one drives me crazier than you. You've had too many years of practice."

"And I'm very proud of my accomplishments." Taehyung grinned, tucking the recovered charger into his pocket. "So bring her Saturday. What's the worst that could happen?"

"She could murder me in my sleep after I make her listen to your terrible taste in music."

"Please, my taste is impeccable." Taehyung stood, stretching dramatically. "And if she murderers you, at least Yoongi and I can split your vinyl collection."

"Touch my records and die," Jungkook threatened. "And get out of my room."

"This is the thanks I get for letting you crash on my couch for half a year?"

"I brought you food. And cleaned your disgusting bathroom. We're even."

Taehyung flipped him off as he left, but there was affection in the gesture. 

Some things never changed, even after more than a decade. 

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�� jungkoode 2025

no reposts, translations, or adaptations

[smilesatdawnmain]

Did Nezha ever leave MK alone for some time because he felt guilty or because he thought MK was better off without him, only for MK to get really sad and Nezha realizing he was wrong and return? Or did Nezha stay with MK throughout his entire childhood ?

Once Nezha revealed himself to MK, he couldn't help but linger around. His visits getting more and more frequent. He did linger the rest of his childhood. However, if there was ever a moment for Nezha to doubt himself or what he was doing there, it would probably go like this :D

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

Nezha leaned against the window sill, feeling the cold seep through his back. The drawn curtains kept him hidden from any potential onlookers inside, so he didn't have to worry about being seen as he watched the rain trickling down from the roof shingles.

He strained to listen beyond the barrier of glass and thin material, catching the pitter-patter of tiny feet and the gentle thump of a heart- MK was in his room.

It had been some time since Nezha was last here. Well, not long, per say. A month, a simple 30 days, was nothing to that of an immortal.

To a child, however, it must have been that of a century.

He had made a promise to himself to never come back. How could he, especially after MK had referred to him as "Big Brother"?

A loving term that stirred a flicker of warmth in Nezha's otherwise icey pit of a soul. Despite his initial excitement, he was quickly reminded that he did not deserve such intimacy.

Although he did not disregard the name when he first heard it, he quickly stood up to leave. He knew he had overstayed his welcome and the longer he lingered, the more difficult it would be to say goodbye.

MK's face lit up with a smile as he said goodbye to Nezha, a routine gesture they had repeated many times before. Little did he know it would be their final interaction.

It was supposed to be their final meeting in person. However, that did not mean Nezha would abandon the boy to face his life alone. He held onto a container of tea tightly, aware that the exhaustion would have likely set in for the boy by now.

After MK's light flickered off and the boy settled into bed, Nezha patiently waited. He knew MK was probably reading comics under his covers with a flashlight, so he gave him an hour before making his move. Once the time had passed, Nezha felt it was suitable to proceed.

Silently sliding open the window, Nezha slipped into the room like a shadow. The faint scent of ink and paper lingered in the air as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He made his way to the small desk by the bed, where MK's latest drawings were scattered haphazardly.

He paused, smiling softly to peer down at them. Pouring MK his cup of tea and putting it where he always did, Nezha paused to a particular page.

He easily recognized himself in MK's characteristic, rounded drawing style. What confused him was that his cartoon replica appeared to be holding hands with MK. However, the drawing of MK was scratched out, as if the boy had impulsively tried to erase it in a fit of emotional anger- in hurt.

Nezha held his breath, lifting the picture with a dropping feeling in his stomach. Noticing a change in MK’s breathing, Nezha quickly his the drawing behind his back, turning to the bed when MK had sat up.

The boy peered at him through the darkness, drowsy at first, then clearing.

“Hello…?” MK’s voice was a soft whisper, a mixture of surprise and confusion. His eyes adjusted to the darkness, and he saw the figure standing by his bedside, holding a steaming cup of tea. MK gasped, “Angel?” He was in a frenzy, tossing and turning as he threw the covers off his legs without care. He became tangled in them as he rolled off the bed and landed on the floor. “Angel!” He rushed to Nezha's side, but stopped abruptly before reaching him. Nezha prepared himself for a hug, desperately craving it, but at the last moment- MK froze. He held his breath as he watched MK's gaze fixed on him.

MK was attempting to read his response, as if he thought he was no longer allowed to show affection towards him. Nezha felt tears forming in his eyes but held them back. He discreetly let go of the picture and knelt down, embracing the boy tightly against his chest.

“I’ve missed you,” Nezha whispered, feeling MK's body tremble in his arms. The tension slowly melted away as MK tentatively wrapped his arms around Nezha, burying his face in the crook of his neck. Nezha closed his eyes, savoring the warmth of the embrace that he had longed for during their time apart.

MK exhaled, the furrow of his brow relaxing, soothed. “Were you busy, Angel?”

Nezha caressed the back of MK’s head, his chest tightening with guilt, “Yes,” he says. It wasn’t a lie, but it was far from the truth. "I was trying to figure things out. I’m… I’m sorry I made you wait so long," Nezha continued softly, his voice barely above a whisper. MK pulled back slightly, his eyes searching Nezha's face for any sign of deception. Finding none, he leaned in again, nuzzling his head to Nezha’s shoulder.

“Okay,” he whispered.

Nezha spoke more, “B-But I'm here now, and I'm not going anywhere," Nezha whispered softly, his voice laced with sincerity. MK clung to him tighter, as if afraid that letting go would make this moment disappear.

“Okay,” he smiled.

[graycenotesmusic]

WARNING: REFERENCES OF BLOOD

You don't quite know how you got here. You were just exploring a darkened section of the Pizzaplex when you saw a shadow dancing in distance.

You approach it cautiously. You hear an eerie laugh echo around you in the corridor in which you find yourself. The laugh is coming from the shadow. By now, as you approach, you can tell it is a woman with long hair pulled back into a ponytail.

The dim lights around you flicker suddenly, and you hear the laugh again. It's bubbly, almost cheerful, and it's further away from you now.

You keep walking further down the hall, following the woman as she skips lightly down the hall.

A voice in your head cautions you to turn around and go back to where you came from.

But as you follow the woman, you catch a glimpse of what she looks like.

She has blonde hair, a young face, pretty, and almost kind looking.

She's looking at you with her startlingly bright green eyes. A mischievous glimmer shines in them as she smiles playfully and turns to dart down another hallway.

You start running to keep up with her.

"Hey!" You call out after her. "Hey, wait!"

She doesn't slow down. Running quite fast, but somehow not making a sound.

You rush to catch up with her as she leads you down corridor after corridor.

Occasionally, she'll glance back at you with the same mischievous expression. Like she's hiding a big surprise.

The woman eventually leads you to a dead end. She stops at the end of the hallway, waiting for you to catch up.

As you approach her, you see she is wearing a strange outfit. It's a white costume covered in patchwork on random spots. On the front of her outfit is a giant blue bow.

"Who are you?" You ask her. You're only a few yards away from her now.

She doesn't respond. The look in her eyes is different now. Maybe it's just the lighting, but you notice an edge to her gaze. Does it look pained? Pleading.

Suddenly, she's slowly moving her left arm, which you've just noticed was hidden behind her back.

She tilts her head. The edge from her eyes is now gone.

Clutched in her left hand is a large knife. It glints menacingly in the dim light.

You immediately regret the decision you've made.

For the first time, the girl speaks:

"Run!" It sounds desperate. Like she's warning you from an unseen danger. Like she can't control what she's doing.

You start to back away from her.

Suddenly, the girl raises the knife, poised to strike.

You turn and start sprinting down the way you came.

From behind you, you hear the girl laugh. This time, the laugh sounds maniacal.

As you sprint, you suddenly realize you don't know where you are.

The entire area is a maze of hallways that look the same. You were lured here for a reason.

There's no way out.

Suddenly, you trip over a box in the middle of the floor. You must've passed that box 10 times already. You've been going in circles.

You fall down hard. Dazed, you push yourself up to your knees.

You glance around frantically. You are alone.

You catch your breath and stand.

The girl with the knife is nowhere to be seen.

You strain your ears to listen, but you hear no sounds besides your own breathing and racing heart.

You creep across the room and peer around the corner of the nearest hallway.

It's very dark. The perfect place for a maniac with a knife to hide in.

You immediately turn and begin looking for another exit.

There's a door with an exit sign across the room.

Where did that come from?

Instinctively, you walk across the room and try the door.

It makes a loud clack as you push on the handle.

Locked! If the girl with the knife was nearby, she definitely heard that.

You turn around to find a hiding place and come face to face with the girl.

You jump three feet off the ground.

She stares at you. Her green eyes glowing gold from the red light of the exit sign.

She lunges with the knife. You try to fight her off, but she is impossibly strong.

Her blade finds its mark.

You crumple to the floor as you feel the warmth of your own blood start to pool around you.

The girl drops to her knees as you start to fade.

The knife clatters to the floor as tears stream down her face.

"I'm so sorry." She chokes out. "I couldn't stop him."

Stop who? You wonder. But you will never find out.

You breathe your last shaking breath.

The last thing you see is the blonde girl, her arms wrapped around herself.

Quiet sobs wracking her shoulders.

Once again, she is alone.

fnaf (c) Scott Cawthon

Drawing and story interpretation made by me

[fandomnerd9602]

Wolf Spider pt. 4

Sam Carpenter x Spider-Man!Reader

It wasn't supposed to be like this. Ghostface wasn't supposed to know where you were. And now because of that, Anika's life was now on the precipice of life and death. You switched back into your civilian clothing and rushed back to the hospital.

You ran into the waiting room to find Sam, Tara, Ethan, Mindy, and Chad. Mindy was crying her eyes out as she rushed up and started wailing away at your chest, trying to somehow punch you. A fool's errand due to your enhanced spider strength. But your friend was in pain, as much as you, she needed this.

"You bastard!" Mindy practically screamed through her tears, "where were you?! Why didn't you come sooner?!?"

"I'm sorry" was all you could say as Chad gently pulled his sister away from you.

"Doctors said Anika was stable but she's in a coma" Tara explains as she tries to remain calm from the nearby waiting room couch.

"Can't you call any more of your spider friends?" Chad asks

"Spider Society. And no" you whisper, "they'll define anything as a canon event. they're of no use, we're on our own"

"I wouldn't say on your own" a familiar female voice answers back, you turn and come face to face with Gale Weathers or as you know her-

"Hey Aunt Gale" you smile

"D-Do they know about-?" She makes a webslinging movement with her hands.

"We know" Sam answers back. "Hey Gale. Thanks for not publishing that story by the way"

"Dewey would've killed me if I did" Gale chuckles, "and Sidney would've sucker punched me." Gale gives you, Sam, and Tara quick hugs.

"She always had a mean right hook" you smile back.

It's then that you saw the ambulance pull in, the EMTs emerge with a gurney. On the gurney was Quinn, in a comatose state. Detective Bailey and a young woman followed close behind.

"Quinn?!" you tried to approach the gurney but Bailey grabs you.

"It's a medically induced coma" he answers, "s-she's stable but-" the older man begins to cry. You give him a little side hug. No father should be put through this kind of pain. You turn to the young woman, blonde, average height but you could tell there was a fire in her eyes.

"I'm FBI Special Agent Kirby Reed" the young woman introduces herself. "I've been tracking Ghostface sightings for years now."

"Cool" you huff, "there's gonna be a bunch of them in like two days time. Bunch of masked freaks"

"You referring to the Wolf Spider as well?" Kirby smirks, "I'm just glad we got one masked good guy at least"

"Not to dash the moment" Ethan interjects, "but where are we gonna stay? It's not like we have any safe spaces right now"

You give it some thought, you had to keep them safe, "I-I think I might know a place" you say.

You guide your friends, family, and a detective and an FBI agent to your hidden little apartment located in a clock tower. The whole housing area was right above the gigantic gears that ran the tower, surprisingly its very quiet.

The space was fairly big. Two stories, well a living room on the first story and a master bedroom on the second. Two futon couches, a bed upstairs, a TV, a simple bathroom and kitchen set up. And of course your makeshift research lab by the window which overlooked all of New York.

"This is your lair?" Mindy asks, "Like the Web?"

"The Watch Tower" you answer, "but I'm not gonna lie, the Web sounds cooler"

"How did you afford this?" Bailey asks with a chuckle, "I can't even afford rent in New York as it is."

"Saved some rich dude," you shrug, "It's his old apartment and he had it gifted to me. It's more of a base of operations. You'll be safe here."

You pull out the futons' beds. "Chad, Mindy, the futons are yours. Tara, Sam, bed's all yours"

"And what about you?" Sam asks

"Now's not the time for you two to get all romantic," Chad tries to interject but you lightly sock him in the arm.

"I have my ways" you form a hammock with some webbing. Bailey chuckles.

"I got my apartment closeby" Gale answers as she walks to the door. She gives you a quick nod before heading out.

"What about me?" Ethan asks as you throw a sleeping bag at him. The young college student sighs, "Right. I'm still a suspect"

You make sure everyone gets settled in for the night. You notice Kirby inspecting your lab set up. She admires your web shooters in particular.

"Can't tell you how many suspects I could apprehend with these. Quite a set up you got here" she smirks, "we could use you on the force"

"Too many rules" you smirk back, "besides these powers are my responsibility. And don't go telling your friends at Langley, I don't need the FBI trying to experiment on me"

"My lips are sealed" she answers back. "Glad to be working with you, Wolf Spider"

You make your way back to the bedroom, Tara's already sleeping peacefully. Sam not so much. She rises from the bed and you pull her into a hug. She breathes in your scent, just being in your arms brings her some ounce of peace. Her hands rub gentle circles on your back, like a soothing balm on your very soul. How your being ached for her touch.

"Promise you won't leave me again" she whispers. You give her a peck on the lips.

"I promise." you answer back. "I love you Sam, I won't let anyone ever hurt you again"

"I love you, my Wolf Spider"

Sam drifts off to sleep as you sneak out of the room later that night. You needed to clear your head. What you failed to notice as you snuck past your sleeping friends and family was that one of the genetically engineered spiders you kept in your lab, had snuck out of it's containment unit. And it had set up a little web right above your pal, Chad. The iridescent arachnid slowly made its way down to the sleeping jock.

You made your way to rooftop overlooking all of New York. You could only breath in and out. Ghostface wouldn't rest until Sam and Tara were dead.

Your mind was racing with so many variables. Canon events. What if losing Sam and Tara was a part of your web? Was it really something that you couldn't stop? What if your aunt Gale was another person you couldn't save? Was your fate truly set in stone? Would Ghostface take everything away from you?

We'll go after Ghostface first, The symbiote hisses, Let me take control. I'll have his head by morning.

"No" you shake your head, "I won't let you. Not after last time...Venom."

"Talkin' to yourself ain't gonna help, mate" a familiar British voice chuckles from behind you. The only one standing behind you was dressed in a punk rock outfit, spike studded boots, his guitar on his back and his denim vest adorned with little anarchist pins. He offers you a mischievous smile.

"I thought you weren't supposed to interfere" you smile before turning to face your interdimensional best pal, Hobie 'Spider-Punk' Brown.

"You know I don't listen to authority, bruv" Hobie gives you a bro hug. "now let's work on catchin' your ghost"

To Be Continued...

Tags: @deafeningsharkslimeempath @ma1egamer @jacelion @jadenyukiyusakufujikiyutoduelist @jacksonandjacksonville @sonicqaulan

[snakeassassins]

Pokemon Theory: Hassel, Drayton, and "Sinister Hands"

Hey guys! Before the pokemon presents starts tomorrow, I wanted to hash out some observations I’ve made on the scarvi dlc and the implications they have on pokemon lore as a whole. I don’t have much of a big hook to draw anyone in, though, so let’s just jump into it.

Hassel is only one of two characters in all of gen 9 who is left handed. The other is professor turo, who does so to symbolically mirror sada. Through this, I don’t think it’s hard to say that Hassel’s left handedness is also something designed to mirror someone else.

A lot of people have already pointed out that Hassel and Drayton have a lot of mirrored animations.

As such, I don’t think it’s much of a stretch to say that they are the big foils here.

There’s a bit of a snag, though.

With Sada and Turo, it’s obvious that this right/left theming is in regards to the past/future, but it becomes a bit murky if you attempt to apply this to Drayton and Hassel.

If anything this theming is reversed.

Drayton’s supposed to match Sada’s past, but his ace is the futuristic Archaladon.

Similarly, Hassel is supposed to represent the future, but his ace is Baxcalibur, who is themed around dinosaurs, much like past paradox pokemon.

The major exception to this is their signature moves. Electro shot takes a turn to fire, while Baxcalibur takes double damage after using Glaive Rush. Drayton’s ace’s weakness is the “past”, while Hassel’s ace’s weakness is the “future”.

So… how are we supposed to read this exactly? It’s an intentional contradiction —a paradox, if you will—but one whose intent is hard to parse.

Something else has been nagging me about Hassel’s left-handedness: it’s an anachronism.

See, given the name, Baxcalibur is designed to be a medieval weapon. In which case fighting with it left handed would be considered a major taboo for that time period. Swordsmen of that period were trained exclusively with their right hand, which meant fighting with your left was considered to be inherently underhanded.

This bled into a lot of the language and culture at the time. The word “sinister” itself literally means left in latin, we just use it to mean evil in modern times because those were the traits associated with left handed people back then.

It was a common trope for duels to be won unfairly by having the perpetrator fence with their right hand, only to stab their opponent with a hidden blade in their left. A left handed fencer in most medieval fiction is almost inherently duplicitous.

Another one was for left handed fighters to be masters attempting to hide their true strength by using their non-dominant hand to fight. A more benevolent form of trickery, but deceitful nonetheless. Maybe it’s a sign that Hassel is pulling his punches, given how low “elite four member” is compared to the multiple dragon tamer champions we’ve had?

You can see both of these tropes being invoked by this scene from the princess bride. Both opponents intentionally start with their weakest hand before switching to the right, but it’s a double entendre also meant to show that neither is as bad as they appear to be either, a fact made even more obvious by how honorably they fight.

To be honest, I was a bit concerned I could be grasping at straws with these comparisons, given that Baxcalibur’s Japanese name doesn’t even refer to a sword, but then it hit me

Its signature move is it literally backstabbing you. That’s the pun.

Which leads me to what’s been nagging at me here: why is one of Hassel’s major character motifs centered around him being a traitor if he never once betrays anyone in the story? If he was built from the ground up to be our metaphorical Brutus, then who is Caesar?

I think the obvious guess of who Hassel is a traitor to would be the dragon tamer family he seems to have run away from.

He tells us why he left, but his explanation is more than a little vague. Why did he stop being a musician and join the elite four? Why is he so necessary to his family’s hierarchy that they are willing to fake his father’s illness to get him back, even after all these years? There’s more to this story that Hassel is either downplaying or straight up not telling us, and that makes it the prime suspect for Hassel’s “traitor” status.

However, as we are in Unova for the dlc, my inner fan theorist can’t help but also point out the faction actively themed around medieval knights.

Especially when their boss is yet another blonde-ish lefty with swept back hair who is, frankly, more than a little ceasar coded himself.

Hassel’s backstabbing is probably a good thing for us either way tbh

Drayton’s the right hand man, however, and as such we can assume that he is aligned with whatever Hassel is against, willingly or otherwise. The Mark Anthony to our Brutus, if you will. The responsibilities of which he is likely dragging his feet on by staying in school as long as possible. Which actually brings us back to the original right hand/left hand dichotomy.

I think the big difference between the Sada/Turo dichotomy and the Drayton/Hassel dichotomy is that Sada and Turo are defined by a relentless pursuit of something. Drayton and Hassel, on the other hand, are defined by avoidance.

What’s important to the symbolism isn’t that Drayton is using his right hand, it’s that he isn’t using his left. He isn’t someone pursuing the past like Sada, but using his obligation to the school as a way to avoid the future.

Similarly, I think it's safe to say that Hassel is using his teaching position to escape his past moreso than he is looking to his future.

Because of this I don’t think it’s too much of a stretch to say that Hassel’s past and Drayton’s future… probably coalesce in the same place.

What this actually implies is a question that will probably only be answered by our inevitable black and white remake, but I am curious about it nonetheless. I’ve got a bunch of extra comparisons to make between these two that didn’t quite make the cut here, so feel free to add your own observations and theories if you come up with anything.

[raven-artz]

So, the second chapter of my fic is over. I hope you enjoy it, ladies and gentlemen.

(Part 1)

BUT I want to let you know a few important things that are essentially spoilers, but extremely important to mention:

One: this chapter contains references to blood, use of medical supplies such as a syringe and injury description.

Two: I don't know anything about medicine and could be wrong about some things.

Three: my character will be featured in this chapter(and further and subsequent ones), and his role in this fic will be extremely important(you can consider 'em as a second main character). Therefore, if you are not interested in OC's, you can refuse to read this story.

Sir @weirdozjunkary , here's the part two!

Shaking off the cold raindrops, the hedgehogs run toward the forest clearing, first Shadow, then Sonic with Tails on his shoulder.

Sonic turned to the fox:

"- Buddy, did you say that you can use your miracle machine to SEARCH for power sources? We could use that now more than ever!"

"Oh, right! Gosh, I almost forgot about that!" replied the little fellow, and with eagerness began to adjust the device-"For a more accurate search, I'll have to turn off the beeper....and swap these contacts! Done!"

Pressing an inconspicuous lever on the side of the device, Tails commanded his buddy firmly:

"- Sonic, you need to go a little to the right to that big oak tree over there!"

The tree was clearly visible among the others, and the giant didn't hesitate to stride over there. Shadow rushed after him. Stopping in a small clearing near the tree, the blue hedgehog glanced at the fox.

The latter, in turn, focused on the route that was glowing on the screen of the search device.

"- According to my calculations, he hasn't gotten far! Walk a dozen paces forward, then turn right. I don't know how close we'll be able to get to him, so we'll have to proceed quickly and carefully. With any luck, we might be able to grab this guy before he gets to town."

Sonic confidently obeyed his friend's instructions and moved through the forest. Shadow on the other side, was snooping left and right of blue like a bloodhound, checking his surroundings. Suddenly he froze, noticing something in the distance.

"- Sonic, wait!!!" - came a shriek from almost under the hedgehog's foot.

The hedgehog froze, wiggling his feet on his weight.

"-Wait here, I'll go check it out! I think there's something up ahead, and you'd better stay here or you might scare it away."- Shadow said.

Sonic obeyed, anxiously following his fleeing friend.

Shadow stepped confidently towards the obscure object, hidden by a wall of cold rain. As he got closer, the hedgehog began to notice half-blurred spots on the grass that clearly didn't look like alien slime. When he sensed something wrong, he moved stubbornly forward, sliding across the forest floor.

The tracks became clearer and clearer, and the hedgehog, with a growing sense of unease, traversed the small bushes and slippery, wet grass.

At last a dismal sight appeared before Shadow's eyes. Barely losing his balance from horror, the black hedgehog backed up. A chilling sense of panic developed in his stomach as his mind was able to assess what he saw.

The tiny clearing that opened up to his view looked more like the scene of a bloody massacre: the rain had eroded the scarlet puddle, turning it into streams. The grass was crumpled and bloodstained in some places.

And right in front of Shadow, in the middle of this madness, a Mobian lay on his side, showing no signs of life. And from the look of him, such a state was justified.

His drenched black cloak was soaked with red liquid and looked very shabby. The pants and the sleeves of the sweater that showed from underneath were tattered and worn. It looked as if the mobian had been torn apart, then left here to die.

With self-controling himself, Shadow cautiously approached the body.

"-Hey... You-?" the hedgehog didn't have time to finish. The Mob sighed hoarsely and clenched their hand with pain feeling. Apparently, they was completely unable to move. Shadow's insides twisted into a lump, catching his breath. "Oh, my God..."

He was brought out of his painful stupor by the fox's voice in his earpiece-"Hey Shadow, how are you doing?"

"-I'm fine, but-"

"-Did you notice someone around here?"

"-Yeah, but it's the mobian, and they're obviously needs an ambulance!"

"-We're on our way to you!"

"- Copy that."

Sonic peered anxiously into the thick of the grove, stepping over the trees. When he reached Shadow, all he could do was sigh in horror, hastily covering Tails' eyes with his hand.

"- Poor guy..."

"They're still alive," Shadow replied, "We need to get 'em to the base and get them some help."

"What about a regular ambulance?" blue asked puzzled.

"They can't get here in this weather, so you do it."

Sonic nodded in agreement.

"Hey guys, did you happen to mistake the alien for a person?" came the tense voice of the fox from behind Sonic's palm. "My device says it's right in front of us!"

The hedgehogs looked at each other in silence.

"But their-" Sonic began.

"-Tails, all devices in the world make mistakes sometimes. I doubt it's a robot or a cyborg, otherwise it wouldn't be- Like this..."- quickly interrupted the blue guy Shadow-"And I don't think there's time for doubt or testing. We need to hurry before it's too late! GUN will determine for themselves who this person is."

Foxy answered nothing, and without hesitation began to go through his machine, trying to find the error.

Meanwhile, the dark hedgehog picked the person up in his arms and gently brought them over to Sonic. The giant lowered his palm without further ado. Carefully placing the body on his arm, the blue one, trying not to let Tails see too much and not to be scared, took his palm away from the kid's face and quickly picked Shadow up from the ground, placing him on his other shoulder. Thankfully, the fox cub was so immersed in his work that he didn't even look up.

Finally placing his friends on top of him, the hedgehog covered the mob with his other palm, thus forming a "house".

After crossing the forest, Sonic began to pick up speed on the shore of the lake, and finally rushed to the base, keeping an eye on the condition of the man resting in his palms.

Five minutes later, he was already standing near the entrance, waiting for the doors to open.

Carefully peeking between his fingers, Sonic made sure his burden was secure.

Then, after waiting for the bulky airlock to open, letting him inside, the hedgehog quickly stepped over the threshold and rushed forward down the corridor.

Almost immediately he bumped into the general, rushing apparently to the opposite end of the base.

Noticing the guys she stopped the platform she was standing on and inquired, "- How's your mission, boys? Have you started anything interesting?"

"–Unfortunately, no. We took a close look at the scene and didn't find anything abnormal."-Shadow replied-"But we did find the injured mob while searching, and now we hope to get them to the infirmary."

"–How did they end up there?"

" -We don't know, ma'am, but they're needs a medical examination right now, so with your permission we'll go!" interrupted Sonic.

The General shook her head "- Quite a strange coincidence, but treatment first. Go." She nodded and continued on her way.

Sonic, on the other hand, headed towards one of the medical rooms, large enough to accommodate him, and equipped enough to save someone's life by a thread.

He had expected the three doctors on duty, who often gathered for tea parties, to be there as usual, bored out of their minds. But this time, to the hedgehog's surprise, only one of the doctors was there. He was leisurely drinking mint tea from a large ceramic mug, and seemed to ignore the fifteen meter tall hedgehog that had entered the room.

Coughing, Sonic turned to him:

"–Hello, Mr. Henry, I need your help--"

"- What, another vitamin refill?" - The medic asked tiredly, sliding out of his chair.

"–Erm, no. Unfortunately, this time it's much more serious." replied Sonic, carefully opening his palm.

Stepping closer, the doctor's eyes widened in surprise.

"-Oh my god, buddy, where did you find them?" he asked animatedly, scrutinizing the sprawled mobian's body.

"- It's... It's a long story. Can you help them, sir?" asked Sonic, while placing his other palm front of Shadow and Tails to lower them to the floor. Once on the ground, the dark hedgehog pulled the child out the door first and shut it tightly.

"–Of course I can. Get 'em in here!"-commanded the doctor, hurrying to the oilcloth-covered couch in the corner of the room. Unfolding it more comfortably, he gestured for the hedgehog to lower the injured person.

Obediently, Sonic held out his hand to Shadow, who in turn carried the mobiam into place.

The doctor, having done the necessary sterilization of his suit bent over them.

"- So, by the looks of it, they've lost a pretty decent amount of blood..." The doctor pulled away from the patient-"-Shadow, I need an IV and a bottle of saline from that cabinet!

..Wonderful, no pulse spikes, but that doesn't bode well either too on the other hand... To keep them safe, I need to see what I'm dealing with-- Sonic!"-he turned to the blue hedgehog-"I don't seem you're comfortable being here. You can leave, this young man will have no trouble helping me."-he nodded toward Shadow, who was dragging a large container of clear liquid from the corner.

"You're probably right, but-" Sonic picked up the heavy bottle from the black hedgehog "-Maybe I could use some help to you both."

"-Then go over to the X-ray machine and stand there."-Mr. Henry concluded, with a snap, pulling up a blue rubber glove.

"- Hmm... Let's see about getting this off them..." - With those words, the medic reached out to the mob's neck, trying to fumble for the lock.

Suddenly, he was hit by a strong blow, causing him to fall back against the wall.

Let's hope everything's okay. Btw, here's Henry:

I know, not great, but I was doing a quick sketch.

[theliterarywolf]

I both hate and love how right I was about Wish being not well received amongst everyone, especially on the internet

It was either late last year or earlier this year that I had found this Disney magazine that was promoting the latest movies, shows etc. Well they had a large spread dedicated to advertising Wish with promos, behind the scenes so on and so forth

Upon looking thru the spread, first thought that popped into my mind was "this ain't gonna be good considering how much of a flop Strange World was" and dear God did they really phone the villian song end jfc

And dammit I was right i didnt wanna be right but i was, they don't care enough about their animated films anymore they just wanna rush this out to catch the 100th anniversary and focus on making the snow white remake even shittier

Okay, but to be fair: a good chunk of why Strange World flopped is because Disney refused to promote it properly because of their whole 'we refuse to have any scifi/action movies that aren't tied to Star Wars or the MCU' schtick.

Like, don't get me wrong, the writing of Strange World was still dumb and the big twist was both obvious and made no sense at the same time, but the lack of promotion was the real killer there.

My God, the fucking villain song. I remember, even when my doubts about Wish were first starting to build up, I was desperately clinging on because I kept hearing 'this is going to be a return to form; this is going to be the first Disney movie in YEARS to give us a traditional villain song'

And then they showed it and I was like

And, the thing of it is... I wasn't out here thinking that Disney wouldn't have some callbacks and references to it's legacy in this movie. After all, it is supposed to celebrate their centennial.

However, remember when the references and callbacks were more easter eggs and fun hunts for the audience? Like how, as insidious as it is, the Hidden Mickeys are for the parks?

They could have returned to form with a magnificent story stemmed in the quality of writing from the Disney Renaissance; the period of Disney that people are still celebrating all these years later.

Instead we ended up with a movie that is as shameless in its 'Hey! Remember thing?! We made thing!!' as Space Jam: A New Legacy.

[secret-fiction]

Spyro, Wrath of the Wraith Ch 1 - Artisans Ambush

General Audiences, contains Cartoon Violence.

As Spyro the Dragon attempts to rest and Bianca the sorceress returns to her studies of magic, Gnasty Gnorc sends an incursion into the Dragon Kingdom seeking to steal a Guidebook and the power crystal encrusted within it. Things go awry and Spyro arrives to confront the intruders as they make their escape, his Guidebook and the Professor in their possession. With the help of Bianca and others, Spyro gives chase toward Gnasty Gnorc's hideout, a hidden ship off the coast of the realm. I do not consent to any use of this work in training Machine Learning programs, referred to by some as "AI."

Finished with another evening of work, the sorceress Bianca emerged from beneath the comforting shadow of a hollow under the plains. Instead of cool midnight darkness however, she found an ambush of morning sunlight that offered her eyes stinging blindness. She recoiled and fumbled with the purple hood under her long ears, eventually managing to pull it over her head. Now shielded from the light she marched back outside to face the consequences of a sleepless night. 

The path Bianca walked between hills and walls curved and meandered more than it had the evening before. Dark Hollow’s library had been a comfortable place to study, evidently too comfortable. Yet she had completed a set of magic portal instructions, now tucked in a bag under her arm. Bianca rubbed her eyes, smearing her purple eyeliner which now accentuated her dark eyebags. When her vision cleared she saw a shadow cast over her, stretched from the large figure of a gray scaled Dragon. 

“Oh!” said Bianca. “Excuse me, I took a wrong-”

“You’re well excused miss Rab-bit,” said the gray Dragon, “You’re here at a good time, watch these few here for a moment.”

The large Dragon gestured to a group of four much smaller Dragon hatchlings, all around the size of a wild mundane rabbit. They seemed mostly occupied with some paintbrushes and small canvases laid out on the ground. A couple were actually painting something, but another was chewing a paintbrush into sawdust with its sharp baby teeth. 

“Ah! I’d like to help, but I-”

“Now these ones can’t be caught easily if they decide to wander, but anything colourful or otherwise distracting should keep them together.”

“Really I can get someone else-”

The large gray Dragon didn’t seem to hear Bianca as he leapt into the air and with a flap of his wings took flight. Now she was alone with three toddlers, who were Dragons. Bianca’s eyes widened a bit as she surveyed the brood of hatchlings. There was definitely a fourth one a moment ago. Her heart rate increased as her eyes swept over the surrounding area. It took a bit of running around for her to find the fourth hatchling atop a nearby ledge looking down at her with its bright brown eyes.

“Uh… Wait there! I’ll get you down…” said Bianca.

The Hatchling giggled at her, and leapt off the ledge. Bianca yelped and scrambled to catch it. It however caught the air in its little wings, gliding down safely like a feather.

“...Your wings aren’t big enough for that to make sense.”

As that hatchling landed softly, then somehow still tumbled over itself a few times, Bianca glanced over to see an act of baby violence. A Blue hatchling sneezed on a red hatchlings painting canvas, lighting it aflame. The two of them held eye contact for a long dramatic moment, before the red one rammed the blue one with its horns. This quickly devolved into a small flailing battle. 

“Hey! HEY!” shouted Bianca as she ran over, “not so rough!”

Bianca rushed over and pulled the two hatchlings apart. They interpreted this interposition as a challenge. The Blue hatchling leaned over and bit Bianca’s leg through her coat. She yelped and dropped the red one, who proceeded to ram her other leg with its horns. Unlike their heavier Dragon elders, Bianca slipped on her long boot and fell onto her back. The two Hatchlings then resumed their combat atop of her prone body. 

As Bianca found out how well Hatchlings can wrestle, she felt a tug on the bag of papers under her arm. She sat up to see it being yanked away by a chubby yellow Hatchling. It stared at her with her work in its maw while wagging its tail. Bianca held eye contact and slowly leaned over to reach for her paperwork. The yellow hatchling grinned and jumped away, its plot to lure her into a chase successful. 

“Careful with those!” Shouted Bianca, “Please… Stay… Still!”

Her words falling on a toddlers ears, Bianca stopped her chase short and surveyed how the situation had devolved. How did the older Dragons deal with this? Right, they were big, heavy, and usually capable of flying out of reach. Hearing a crunch, she looked down to see a loose canvas splattered with colours under her long clown boots. Remembering one skill she did have, she waved her hand at the canvas and uttered a command. A bright flash and a loud crack sent the colours flying off of the canvas and onto a nearby wall. 

“Ooooh!” uttered all four of the hatchlings.

All their eyes were now on Bianca and they dropped whatever they were doing to surround her. She took a moment to sigh, slow her heart rate, and brush her blonde bangs away from her eyes. 

“Anotha!” said the chubby yellow hatchling, dropping Bianca’s paperwork from its mouth.

“Okay, I can do that!” said Bianca.

She looked at the mess of art supplies strewn about the ground. With a few more utterances and gestures, she cast a spell upon the paintbrushes. A wave of sparkling lights enveloped them and soon the brushes were floating into the air and toward the wall. In patterned motions the paintbrushes garnished the wall and smeared the splatter of colours into a swirling abstract image. 

“Bigga Magic!” shouted one of the Hatchlings. 

“You wanna see more?” said Bianca, a grin drawing on her face. The four hatchlings nodded and chirped eager affirmations. “I could cast some more powerful sorcery, but are you sure you can handle that?” Again the Hatchlings bounced and nodded in affirmation, some shouting “Yes Yes!” and others uttering excited chirps. “Very well, behold this!” 

Bianca turned away from the hatchlings, the paintbrushes falling to the ground as she clasped her hands together. Now she just needed to figure out what kind of spell would live up to the hype. While scanning the area for a good catalyst, the muffled sound of a breeze through leaves reached her ears. A trio of small well trimmed trees sat atop a hill above her. She considered them for a moment, then gestured her arms again and spoke an incantation, pausing for a second before the final word. 

A blinding flash from the central tree made Bianca recoil and shield her eyes. Then the light and the warmth of the sun faded away. Slowly, Bianca opened her eyes to a new shadow cast over the area. The hatchlings around her cooed in awe and as her vision cleared Bianca saw the tree standing several storeys taller. Its branches spread out wildly and its leaves grew unkempt. Overall it was very noticeable and Bianca grimaced at the thought of being chewed out by whoever was groundskeeping this place. 

A breeze pushed lightly against the now massive tree, which in all its magically enhanced strength started to buckle and tip. Large cracks loudly appeared on the hill under the tree and its roots ripped a chunk of the soil away as it leaned toward Bianca and the hatchlings. Eyes wide and teeth clenched she frantically mumbled to herself while raising her arms ready to cast a spell. Meanwhile the hatchlings cheered on the tree as it gained momentum toward them.  

Unable to think of a quick magic fix, Bianca started grabbing the hatchlings and throwing them on her shoulder. They laughed with an amusement known only to creatures unaware of their mortality. One, two, then three were quickly stacked on her head and shoulders. The creaking of wood grew louder and Bianca danced around looking for the last hatchling. Then she spotted it bravely and foolishly facing the falling tree and attempting to mimic Bianca's hand movements. Another loud crack came from the base of the tree and it suddenly dropped much faster. With a yell she bounced over to shove the hatchling out of the way, but the tree was already upon them.  

Then there was a loud thwack above them followed by the crashing of the tree hitting the ground. It laid to rest just a foot away from Bianca and the Hatchlings. A glance at the tree revealed a gash in the wood, something had struck it at the last minute and pushed it away. That something then spoke up.

“Well if it isn’t the imposing sorceress, practicing well controlled magic I see.”

Perching himself atop the fallen tree was the familiar purple scaled and yellow crested Spyro the Dragon. He was leaning forward wearing a cheeky smirk on his face and a chunk of bark on his brown horns. His body was closer in size to the Hatchlings than the adult Dragons but evidently carried enough mass to budge a falling tree. All the while the fast rate of his breath contradicted his casual posture. Around Bianca the four hatchlings gasped and clambered over her toward him. She simply sighed, for two reasons. 

“Thanks Spyro… Looks like these kids are glad to see you.”

“Yep, Heh, as usual…” Spyro waved his paw to the hatchlings who all clambered for his attention. “I’d love to stick around guys but I, uh… Sparx, what're we doing?”

 A buzzing noise accompanied a yellow Dragonfly, Sparx, who swooped over Spyro and perched atop the bark on his horns. Sparx tapped leg to his mouth and thought for a moment, then buzzed some sort of response with his wings. Spyro nodded and said “Yeah we gotta go help Hunter with-” he shot a look at Sparx, “Something.”

The Hatchlings did not understand or did not care as they jumped and climbed up the tree toward Spyro. He flapped his orange wings as if to glide away, but the toddlers were upon him. Two jumped onto his wings and back, and the others tried to wrestle him over. For his part Spyro did a decent job of staying upright with a tight grip on the log beneath him. Bianca chuckled lightly to herself and picked up her paperwork. “Well if I see Hunter I’ll send him your way, thanks for taking over for me.” 

“Now hold on!” said Spyro.

“Hey kids! Up here!” shouted a new and recognizable voice from atop the half destroyed hill. It was none other than Hunter the Cheetah. His yellow coat of fur and light brown spots only made him stand out from the landscape here. His blue eyes met Bianca’s, and he gave a corny wink before leaping down. He landed on his feet harmlessly and brandished a frog at the Hatchlings. “For each of these you bring me, I’ll give you one toss into the air! Whoever brings the most gets to ride my kite!”

The four Hatchlings gasped and immediately took off in different directions, releasing Spyro from their clutches. As they scattered out of sight, which is definitely a good way to watch kids, Hunter turned to Bianca and said “Oh Man, you didn’t sleep again didya?” 

“Does it look like I didn't sleep?” said Bianca.

“Yup,” said Hunter. “Your face is that kind of ‘ready for an 11 hour nap’ type of cute right now.” 

The fluff on Bianca’s cheeks puffed out a bit. Something about the way Hunter spoke, and the way his goofy face looked with its shape and his goatee made it difficult not to smile a bit. “Well I finished my spellcraft work for the Professor, so I’ll just get that to him, then maybe nap… unless-”

“Go to sleeeeeep…” said Hunter, waving his paws around.

“Your spell needs work,” said Bianca, “but I'll let you give it a shot when I’m done with my errands.”

“If you say so,” said Hunter.

Bianca leaned closer to Hunter for a quick goodbye kiss.

“You stop that,” said Spyro, who was still very present and leaning away dramatically. 

“Bzzzt!” added Sparx as he finished yanking the chunk of bark off of Spyro’s horns. 

“Ooo! It’s a terrifying display of affection!” said Bianca, waving her hands.

Spyro squinted at Bianca, but before he could think of a retort one of the Hatchlings returned to Hunter, a frog in its maw belting a distressed croak. 

“Oh very nice! Good job.” Hunter bent down and picked the Hatchling up, then with a heave he tossed it a few meters into the air. The Hatchling thought this was the best thing ever as it giggled whilst gliding in circles down. Hunter then turned to Spyro, “You wanna get in on this?”

“...Nah,” Spyro’s eyes turned and followed the giggled Hatchling as it descended for a moment. “Besides, I doubt you could toss me very far.”

“Hey! I’m quite strong AND spry!” said Hunter.

“Doubt it.”

“Bet!”

While Spyro and Hunter proceeded to challenge each other, Bianca slowly stepped away. She sighed and picked up her bag of paperwork, maybe she’d deliver it before another distraction stopped her.

Far past the serene coasts of the Artisans plains lay a blanket of gray fog over the dark blue sea. A coastal breeze rolled the fog out flat over the waves till it dispersed at the edges. Yet even in the daylight it cast an opaque screen over its field of cover. In contrast to the rest of the clear daytime horizon this phenomenon could easily draw attention. Whether or not the large metal ship resting under this fog would draw even more attention was a topic of debate among its crew. 

Two tall chimneys towered over the deck of the ship and poured a constant stream of warm steam with the visual consistency of thick foam. At the base of each chimney several small creatures shoveled coal down open chutes. These mostly round green skinned laborers were none other than Gnorc soldiers, well exerted and dubiously dangerous. The grunts and idle chatter between these minions as they took shifts shoveling reached a bridge cabin overlooking the obscured deck. Though he could not see them well from here, the fog did not muffle their voices from reaching Gnasty Gnorc. 

Standing before a thick glass window Gnasty kept his posture tall and imposing. Surely any who glance up at the bridge would think his silhouette intimidating, and maybe smidge mysterious. Though the weight of his massive gold coloured breastplate and shoulder pads did make continuously standing for hours hard on his thin legs. That was the price of being the boss. As he started to consider the tragic responsibilities of his station a deep voice beckoned to him from the deck. 

“Heyo Gnasty Gnorc! We’ve finally found our woolly crony!” 

Gnasty grinned, the tusks of his underbite underlining the dark look in his eyes. He stepped out to the deck from the base of the Bridge tower just as a new breeze started to lift away the fog. Before him stood Dr. Shemp, a large oval shaped yellow Gnorc wearing round sunglasses despite the shade over him. Several Gnorcs nearby, some short and some very tall, stood up from their resting positions and assembled around them. This was the only clearing, as much of the deck was covered with tarps that concealed several large shapes.  

“Looking nice and threatening as usual boss,” said Dr. Shemp.

“Adequate flattery as usual Shemp,” said Gnasty.

The wind began to pick up, spinning around them in a vortex that sucked the fog up to the sky. Light poured down onto the deck as descending from above came a wizard with a long orange beard, brown pointy hat, and long arms gangly arms. Blowhard had few other features to see. Literally no legs and barely a torso to speak of. Not that Gnasty ever questioned this anatomy out loud. As Blowhard reached eye level with Gnasty the wind funnel shrunk to a small constant tornado that held him aloft. Blowhard held out a burlap sack toward Gnasty as he maintained a constant magic chant. 

“What treats have you brought me?” asked Gnasty.

The bag responded with a loud and noticeably exasperated bleat. As it rustled Gnasty took it and spilled the contents of a single sheep to the ground. Its wool was patchy at best and its skin bore old burn scars. It shook its head, long ears flopped around, and glared at Gnasty. After its eyes widened in recognition it recoiled for a second before standing tall and firm.

“Well if it isn’t the puppet Dragon slayer… how have you been Toasty?”

“Baa’ad!” answered Toasty the sheep, “As you’ave been!”

“But you’re alive,” said Gnasty as he started walking a circle around Toasty, “and that’s just the thing I’m looking for in a spy.”

“Spy?! Bah! I’m not going Ba-ack there!”

“Aw c’mon, where’s your ambition?” said Dr. Shemp.

“With his wool,” said Gnasty.

“Burned asunder, cast as ashes to the gales!” said Blowhard, who’s whirlwind almost dropped him until he returned to chanting.

“... Ba-urned like all of you.” 

Gnasty stopped pacing, his back facing Toasty, and let out a sigh. He gave the sheep a few seconds to become sufficiently worried. Then he turned his wide shoulders enough to make eye contact. “You failed me first.”

Toasty’s eyes widened, then turned to a scowl. “Your spell was Ba-aad. Your Pla-an, BA-AD! Your appearance… Less than Pa-ar!”

A shocked gasp emanated from the whole crew around them. But the sight of this ragged shivering sheep and the light sting of herbivorous venom in his voice made Gnasty smirk. A chuckle that sounded not far from a croaking toad rose from his chest. His laugh lifted the tension off of the deck as the other Gnorcs chuckled softly too. From that height, Gnasty dropped it back onto the scene like a tungsten cube as the amusement on his face morphed into a bullfrog's scowl. “You’re not only an ugly and ragged creature, you’re small.”

Toasty’s glare faltered under a burden of fear. 

“Your hate is worthless alone. But I can still use your appearance.”

“...Bah-ah?” asked Toasty.

“According to my new ally, that whelp has a useful power crystal from another world. You can get close, and Blowlord here can get you out.” 

“Na-ay! I’d be incinerated!” said Toasty.

“Maybe. But. You owe me success.” Gnasty Gnorc gestured to the ship around them. “And I have the means to arm you, and give you the first pick at revenge.”

“Yeh, we know you’ve been building a trap at your hideout,”  said Dr. Shemp.

One thing about Toasty that Gnasty could appreciate now was the palpable narrative in his expression. An ember of rage that had rested inside Toasty’s heart was growing into an inferno with all the kindling of opportunity Gnasty had laid onto it. The fire suppression system of fear and logic in his mind clearly faltered. It was quite impossible for Toasty to refuse Gnasty’s offer now.

“...I ca-an find it,” said Toasty, now smiling slightly for the first time. “I’ll find it, and you get me ba-ack.”

Being the cool older cousin of just about every Hatchling in the land did have some drawbacks. Which is why Spyro the Dragon was sneaking around hills and towers with the intensity of an anxious squirrel. While Hunter was off doing odd jobs for his elders Spyro was regularly left to entertain his juniors. Playing with the Hatchlings was fun usually, but there were so many of them around. Everywhere he went there was some little guy trying to chase him, headbutt him, or beg for attention. Spyro hardly had any time of his own to chase, headbutt, and beg for attention from anyone else.

Luckily Spyro had Sparx the Dragonfly at his side, who provided magic powers,  good representation when necessary, but more importantly comradery. The vast wealth of treasure Spyro had at his disposal was likewise helpful. 

“This is a good idea, Sparx,” said Spyro as he snuck around the edges of a field, placing red gems in bushes and behind stones, “but is there a faster way to hide all my gems?”

Sparx dropped a gem from his legs into a small stone fountain then shook his head at Spyro. 

“Darn, okay, how many have we placed anyway?” said Spyro.

“Bzzzt,” said Sparx.

“Really? I think that’s plenty.”

Their own treasure scattered around the area, Spyro and Sparx made their way toward a nearby tower. Careful to avoid being spotted, they dashed between hiding spots and only moved after checking that the area was clear. None of the other Dragons noticed them moving behind fountains, along walls, and eventually sneaking alongside a herd of sheep. Pretty soon they reached a stone tower and rode a vortex of wind to the top. 

From the ledge Spyro crouched low and looked down, Sparx resting on his head. It seemed they had evaded notice by the several wandering Hatchlings playing about the fields. Though Spyro could see boredom and pent up energy in their posture. Sparx gave him a buzz of “be right back” and dived from his head down to the plains. Using his shimmering sparks, Sparx steadily gathered the attention of all the Hatchlings before leading them toward one of the easier to find gems. The discovery of a single red gemstone in a spot of grass filled the Hatchlings with a visible sense of awe and duty.

Watching Sparx lead the game of ‘find the shiny gems’ filled Spyro with a small sense of relief. Evidently his small companion was finding great enjoyment in this specific passtime. Enjoyment being something Spyro had felt being muffled away by some sort of… fuzz in his mood. He rolled onto his back and looked up to the sky as he came to realize that he wasn’t feeling tired, otherwise he’d be napping already. Yet the idea of running around with the kids anymore felt unappealing. A tension in his legs and wings began to clearly yearn for movement but were in contrast with that fuzzy, heavy feeling.

While Spyro laid there in his own head for the first time in who knows how long, something that had noticed him sneaking away prowled toward him atop this tower. A shadow cast over Spyro's face. It took him a bit to realize it wasn’t a cloud but the wool of a common sheep leaning over him. Spyro jumped and rolled to his feet. The Sheep only bounced closer. Its behavior was very unlike any sheep he’s met before.

“BA’AH!” bleated the sheep… no, sheep costume. The back of this woolly form opened up revealing a small light-brown Dragon Hatchling who looked at Spyro with a wide grin and shiny eyes.

Spyro relaxed and folded his wings, “Pfft, hey Ba’uddy. What’s up?”

The Hatchling, one Spyro and Sparx had called Ba’ah when they first rescued it, crouched back into the costume. They then bounced in a circle and gestured for Spyro to give chase. After the jumpstart of being startled, he was really considering it. That’s until another shadow passed over them both, this one indeed a cloud in both gaseous and liquid form. A smattering of rain droplets fell and brought a pause to the day.

Below the several Hatchlings chirped in amusement at first. Then after a few minutes they began yawning and moving lethargically. As if cut off from the solar power of the sun, one by one every young Dragon began to fall to sleep. This wasn’t unusual. He glanced over the Ba’ah who had already curled up and passed out in their comfortable wool bed of a costume. As Sparx returned buzzing with a frequency of disappointment the two of them decided to quietly head out somewhere else to be properly alone. But not before Spyro doubled back and pushed ba’ah under a ceiling protected from the rain. 

“Well, where too buddy?” said Spyro.

Sparx bobbed up and down in the Dragonfly sign of a shrug.

“Yeah, same. I’ve got no idea what I want to do today.” Spyro tapped his claws on the ground for a moment, “I think we need a good hidden lair.”

Before Spyro could elaborate on that thought, he and Sparx noticed a distant bright red light sail through the sky under the cloud cover. It hung in the air for a while before fading away.

“Huh, I wonder who did that,” said Spyro. A few moments passed as they sat there curious about that, but not enough to investigate. “Anyway, where would you hide a-”

“Spyro!!” shouted the high pitched voice of a fairy. A dim sparkling light seemed to appear in the air nearby. It speed towards them, slowly revealing itself to be a red-haired fairy with a yellow dress, Zoe. “The Professor’s in trouble!”

“...How?!”

“The other Dragons went indoors to hide from the rain! Then out of nowhere a sheep took his pencil and lured him away! One thing led to another, he got caught in a trap, and I went to find you immediately.”

“A sheep? I think you could get Hunter to-” Spyro was cut off from a buzz from Sparx. He cocked his head for a moment, then his eyes widened. “We’ll go check it out.”

Over the coasts and under the dark clouds of foreboding mild rains flew a squadron of rickety airplanes. Single propeller engines pulled them through the air. Their fabric wings buckled and shifted with the turbulence. piloting these virtual flying boats were small Gnorcs, their scarves waving and their foggy goggles reflecting the fading red light of a flare. In short order they passed over a larger castle and the central courtyard of the Artisans. With a sharp turn the leading pilot began circling close overhead, and one by one each plane followed the maneuver. 

Observing this display from the ground was a short brown mole-man known to the Dragons as The Professor. His glasses remained constantly obscured by the rain and the rag he had pulled from his lab coat was too soaked to fix that. His head, which was quite large for his body, turned to face a shaggy wooled sheep holding him at rocket-point. “Are those flying machines I hear?”

The shaggy wooled sheep uttered a muffled but threatening bleat. Toasty wasn’t interested in answering questions.

“Ah, I see,” the Professor gave up on cleaning his glasses and put them back on. 

One of the several planes split off from the squadron's maneuver and landed in the courtyard. It slid across the wet grasses until it bumped into a wall near the Professor and Toasty. Out hopped a single Gnorc pilot who then saluted.

“Gnorc Wing Four at yer service boss!” said the Gnorc.

“AND the wizard of Weather!” said the trilling voice of Blowhard. This long bearded wizard descended from one of the planes above, summoning a vortex of wind to hold himself in the aloft. This also served to whip a funnel of water into the air that then fell onto the Professor and Toasty. “Where is the Power Crystal?”

“The mole Ba-ears it!” replied the Toasty the sheep. 

“The Power Crystal?” said the Professor, “Oh I’m afraid I need that to jumpstart my new Axis gate.” The Professor proceeded to pull a large book labeled ‘Guidebook’ from his coat. Encrusted within it was a large red gemstone that reflected a rainbow of colours. “See, using the same magic previously used to reach the Dragon Realms from the other side of the world, I’ll connect this site to Forgotten Worlds directly. It’ll be quite convenient I assure you.”

“We need not access to that land!” said Blowhard, “we need it to eclipse the Dragon Kingdom!”

“...Well that’s just not a very good idea,” said the Professor.

Not interested in the Professor's very logical criticism, Toasty rammed him from behind, sending him tumbling into the seat of the airplane. The Gnorc pilot proceeded to cram into the same cockpit and begin strapping the Professor down. Toasty grew fidgety as the moment grew longer and the risk of a Dragon showing up increased. Luckily for him his stress was soon released in a spot of terror, for he spotted a familiar small figure standing before a stone portal only a short charge away. 

“Nice weather for a flight?” asked Spyro, flapping his wings and splattering water around, which Sparx did not appreciate. 

“No, this weather is not idea-aAAHHH!” said Blowhard, who proceeded to increase the speed of his magic chant, raising him out of reach into the air.

“Gnorc Squadron Four! Dive Maneuver Violet!” shouted the Gnorc manning the grounded plane.

The revving drone of propeller engines drew Spyro and Sparx’s vision upward where a line of seven more airplanes turned sharply toward them. Each plane had two bombs, one strapped on each side within reach of the pilot. The leading pilot brandished a large knife before diving toward Spyro. With a slash a bomb was released, as was its weight from the left side of the plane. The whole airplane took a dip to the right, then fell into a full spin before slamming into the grass with a splash of water and smoke. 

The bomb on the other hand fell toward Spyro, before the winds of the rainstorm sent it off course. It hit the grass but skidded several yards past Spyro and into the crashed plane. The pilot glanced over just in time to see their explosive child return home. The resulting blast and flying debris shook the rest of the squadron out of order. 

“I didn’t know you guys could put weapons on those breakable machines,” said Spyro.

Several planes of the remaining squadron attempted to dive bomb him as well, while others took sharp evasive maneuvers into the ground. A few more bombs thudded into and skidded across the ground around Spyro in a captivating display of fire and flying shrapnel. Sparx batted a mangled shard of metal away from hitting Spyro’s face then gestured up to one plane not falling off course. This pilot skillfully cut the straps to both bombs at once that proceeded to whistle toward Spyro. With Sparx’s warning, Spyro trotted over to the side, letting both bombs fall past him and into the stone portal at his back.

As that payload missed and the plane itself nicked the top of the portal trying to pull up, Spyro decided to actually attend to the grounded intruders. He made eye contact with the Professor who waved at him, then to the Gnorc pilot who shook his head in fear. 

“Spyro my boy!” said the Professor between the blasts and crashes, “Is that you destroying this squadron?” 

“...Yes.” Spyro bounded toward the plane the Professor was held in, but stopped short when the grass at his feet suddenly stood straight up. He dived to the side with a gasp, narrowly dodging a small strike of lightning. Still chanting through the rain and wreckage, Blowhard seemed to be summoning isolated clouds of lighting from the rain storm above. 

“Oh hey!” said Spyro while wagging his tail, “I remember you! Got yourself put back together windy beard?”

Blowhard responded only by summoning down another cloud filled with sparking lightning. Watching this unfold Spyro started leaning back and forth as if to dodge one way or another. Over him Sparx spun in circles, leaving a trail of light and sparks. The cloud of lightning shook as Blowhard tried to anticipate which way to send this attack. Suddenly Spyro took off to the left, and Blowhard sent the cloud after him. It went flying over Spyro and past him as he skidded to a stop, leaving the lightning to strike only wet grass.

“Come one down here and try again,” said Spyro with a wide smile, “You might not miss up close.”

“Spyro!” Zoe appeared between him and the glaring weather wizard, “don’t let them get away with the Professor!”

Zoe pointed her tiny wand in the direction of the plane the professor was aboard; it was now turning and rolling toward a nearby waterfall and pool. Spyro squinted at this move, then saw a small white shape hopping between stones in the pool. These five stone disks began blinking with a yellow glow, and the wall between the waterfalls opened up to reveal a hidden magic portal. The white shape, Toasty, made eye contact with Spyro and froze. 

“How’d it know…”

“BZZZT!” Sparx butted Spyro in the head. A static tingle filled the air around him again and he dashed away. Wet grass turned to steam as a bolt of lightning struck right behind Spyro, close enough to jolt his claws and cause him to tumble onto his face. The yellow glow Sparx illuminated dimmed and he dove down to check on Spyro.

This stumble gave the Gnorc pilot time to rev up his engine and accelerate toward the portal. The edge of the pool approached and the plane hadn’t lifted into the air yet. Yelling the pilot cut the bombs on each side of the plane loose, sending them sliding into the water and the plane wobbling into the air. Toasty bounced onto the body of the plane just in time for it to fly into the skyline through the portal archway.

“I’m fine I'm good,” said Spyro, shaking his head, “quick, let's fly after them!”

Sparx nodded to Spyro, agreeing the mess here could be someone else’s problem now. However Blowhard insisted they stay put with a bolt of dissenting lightning. It struck not at Spyro, but at the water in the pool between him and the hidden portal. Spyro’s eyes widened, then dilated against a flash as two explosions burst from the water. A massive wave of blue water and glowing stone shrapnel fell onto Spyro who managed to shield Sparx and his face with his wings. 

“Hohohoh!!” Blowhard chortled as he dropped to the pool, the vortex of wind he rode turning into a funnel of flying water. His laugh did not manage to mask the sound of sliding stone as the entrance to the hidden portal slid shut.

The glow of the stone shrapnel that lay around Spyro faded, and seeing this he charged to the portal. Blowhard raised his arms and stopped laughing as Spyro seemed intent to go right through him. There wasn’t time for that fun however as Spyro instead dove into the water and swam under Blowhard. With a momentous leap he nearly reached the portal at the same time as the closing stone. Growling, Spyro skidded to a stop and narrowly avoided being smashed. 

“Oh! Ohohohoh!” said Blowhard once more. This drew Spyro’s ire toward him, so he quickly returned to chanting. A blast of flame merely singed his beard as he rose back into the air. 

“Ah come on, don’t want to play?” said Spyro, “afraid you’ll lose another duel?”

Blowhard responded only by continuing his chant and raising a hand. Spyro raised an eyebrow trying to discern if this was meant as some rude gesture or something. It turned out though Blowhard wasn’t brave enough for that, as the only remaining functional Gnorc plane flew past Blowhard, who snagged onto its rudder and was dragged away like a damp flag. 

“Oh, lame,” said Spyro. He watched the fleeing planes for a moment under the shroud of the rainclouds. A rainbow was shining in the sky now, though not as an omen alone. It waved through the air with a warping sound before crashing with a flash next to Spyro. Appearing from magic was Bianca, eyes wide and eye bags dark. 

“Spyro I came as fast as I could!” said Bianca, “Where’d all those explosions come from?”

“Gnorcs, somehow,” said Spyro. “Hey, d’ya think you could open the wall to that portal with your magic?”

“Between the waterfall there?” said Bianca, “Uh… yeah, give me a moment!”

After a moment of looking over the sight, Bianca began waving her hands around and repeated an incantation. A glow appeared in her hands that shot toward the wall like a rocket. It also blew up like a rocket, tendrils of light scattering over the rockface. Cracks spread over the wall, stone pops echoing through the air. Then bursting from the grassy hill above it came a wave of water which connected the two waterfalls and thoroughly blocked the path to the portal.

“Ah,” said Bianca.

“Sure,” said Spyro.

“Shoot,” said Zoe.

“Hey! Who had a party over here?” said Hunter the Cheetah as he casually strolled up beside the group.

“Bzzt!” said Sparx.

“Oh okay!” Hunter leaned down to Spyro, “What’d he say?”

“...Oh! Let’s follow the planes!” said Spyro who then took off running.

“Cool!” Hunter Leaned over to Bianca, “What airplanes?”

Giving little mind to the others Spyro rushed through an underground tunnel and out to a wooden dock on the sea. There a short balloonist with their face covered by a scarf was tying down a hot air balloon. 

“Hey Marco! Can I borrow this again?!” said Spyro whilst hopping around Marco the balloonist.

“Oh of course Spyro!” said the Balloonist.

Immediately Spyro hopped onto Marco’s head and into the small basket of the hot air balloon. “Oh yeah do I steer this after those planes that just flew by?”

“That’s… a bit complicated,” said Marco. “What do you know about altitude and wind direction?”

“...Not enough actually,” said Spyro.

“Hold on Spyro!” said Bianca as She, Hunter and Zoe caught up to him. “I actually got a spell that should help.”

“Maybe don’t blow up his balloon,” said Spyro.

“Blow up my balloon?!” said Marco.

“No no trust me,” said Bianca. Without more time for objections, she waved her hands and summoned a wave of dim rainbow light over the Balloon. A rainbow trail stretched into the air and faded into the horizon. “This should follow that wizard, he left a lot of magic floating around.”

“Oh Thanks! Be right back!” said Spyro.

The balloon lifted into the air along the trajectory of the rainbow, only jostling Spyro around a little bit. As they watched Spyro be carried away Hunter spoke up. “Oh hey, maybe I can get my jetpack. Or my RC plane!”

“Do you know where those are right now?” said Zoe.

“Uh, well…”

In the distance they all heard the shriek of an elder Dragon. “OUR WATERFALL!!!”

“Well let’s go look for your toys,” said Bianca, “No need to stick around.”

Out from under the overcast weather and into sunny skies flew the rickety Gnorc airplane. Blowhard sighed to himself and released his grip from the rudder, returning to riding his magic tornado. Here an updraft in the air made it much easier for Blowhard to stay aloft. He and the remaining plane of Gnorc Squadron Four had reached the island known to the Dragons as Sunny Flight. Large crystal clusters protruded from the island itself and the sea around it. 

“Hey uh, mr wizard,” said the Gnorc pilot beside Blowhard, “who’s balloon is that behind us?”

Blowhard looked at the pilot while maintaining his chant, then slowly turned his body around. Blowing through the air towards them was a large red and yellow striped balloon. Squinting, Blowhard made out a familiar purple Dragon in the basket hanging from the balloon. 

“Ohohoh!” said Blowhard, “the Fool!”

“Fool?” said the Gnorc, “Who’s the fool? Should we be leading it to the ship?”

“The wyrmling is a laying waterfowl! The balloon will be cast into the sea by cannon fire!”

As the balloon closed in Spyro glared at Blowhard, then smirked. He leaned over the edge of the basket and unfolded his wings. 

“Ohohoh! Wyrmlings cannot fly!” said Blowhard, slowly losing altitude as he interrupted his chant, “Lest they be in locales of high magic or updrafts! Ohoho-AH!”

Taking evasive action as he suddenly lost more altitude in a panic, Blowhard resumed his chant intime to skid across the ocean surface. Spyro’s smile widened and he leaned out of the basket and leapt toward the fleeing wizard and pilot. His small orange wings picked up waves of wind that trailed behind him. In the vicinity of Sunny Flight, Spyro clearly had more advantage to gain than those fleeing him.

^Art by @Artisyone here on Tumblr and on Twitter. Consider checking out her art or her Sonic AU comic Out of the Blue.

Thanks for reading if you got this far! This is the first chapter of a story I've had outlined for a bit now. Overall my plans are to have about 11-12 chapters, hopefully in a bit shorter lenght than this. Ideally I'd like this to feel like a prose form of a "Spyro OVA."

Feel free to offer any comments on this story, I'd appreciate it!

--CHAPTER TWO HERE--

[metalhead-brainrot]

[Album of the day] Phantom Spell - Immortal's Requiem

Murcia, Spain // 2022 // Wizard Tower Records / Wizard Tower Recordings

[Genres] classic prog rock

[Themes] immortal wizards have problems too

[FFO] Seven Sisters, Iron Maiden, prog rock/proto metal, chiptune, classic fantasy à la David Eddings.

[Thoughts]

You may have heard of Seven Sisters, a UK-based heavy metal band from that NWOTHM revival in the late 2010s;* Kevin McNeill is the frontman, guitarist, vocalist, and occasional producer. During the depths of COVID, the band (like many) was unable to record, and Kevin McNeill started this personal project, Phantom Spell.

Immortal's Requiem is simply infectious. As prog rock goes, it's not quite interested in playing the technical game, like Rush or Emerson, Lake, and Palmer,** opting instead for a more relaxed approach to progressive (McNeill lists more of his inspirations below).

Contemporary prog rock is a strange and altogether different discussion from its founders. Prog rock founders in the 70s existed in an artistic space predating metal, often cited as the inspirations for bands in the First Wave of heavy metal.*** 70s prog rock was the heaviest music of its time, the most recent innovation from the rock scene. But contemporary prog rock (and hard rock) exists in a world where metal already exists; choosing to make contemporary prog rock isn't part of the innovation game, it's revisiting an older style. And while I spend a lot of time keeping up with the innovations and trends, I think it says more about the artist in particular when they time-travel to a particular era of the past.

Phantom Spell labors over the floor with chalk in hand, taking its time to craft the perfect summoning circle to facilitate your time-travel to an era of the past. The songs are filled with sorcerous inspiration; the dramatic fantasy sung in McNeill's powerful vocals remind me of listening to Seventh Son of a Seventh Son for the first time. "Black Spire Curse" is an instrumental chiptune track (i.e. chiptune methods to prog rock ends) that serves as an ode to another musical trend from the era, shaking hands with the fantasy-focused videogames of yesteryear.

I've pretty mush said enough at this point, but I would like to highlight that when you purchase Immortal's Requiem on Bandcamp, you get access to two hidden tracks: a cover of "Moonchild" by Rory Gallagher (i.e. the greatest guitarist you've never heard of) and an alternate release of Phantom Spell's first track, "Keep On Running" (I prefer the alternate, both are good).

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* If you haven't, go listen. The instrumentation is all solid, the music inspiring, and the album artwork great.

The band name is most likely a reference to the Pleiades, seven stars that, in ancient Greek mythos, were the (cough) companions of Artemis. The Seven Sisters are also referenced as the seventh song on The Sword's 2012 album, Apocryphon.

I somehow missed the Seven Sisters on my big heavy metal kick through the late 2010s, but I'm glad I eventually found my lighted by their stars. It can be difficult to reliably encounter heavy metal of quality; heavy metal junkies seem equally enthused by every heavy metal band, an attitude that does not adequately reflect the variance in musical talent in the genre. I won't punch down on the acts that I think are overrated here (unless you ask, and then I'll share my opinions free of charge), but I'll make an effort to promote acts that should survive the NWOTHM trend.

** Which is where I typically lean within the realms of prog rock, my synaptic pathways having been thoroughly rotted out by technical death metal.

*** To this day, Iron Maiden opens all of their concerts with their cover of UFO's "Doctor Doctor." Phenomenon (1974) has been one of my favorite albums since I was a teen, a statement that is also true for my father. For me, it was the beginning of my exploration into heavy metal; for him, it was the end.

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[From the band/label] Wizard Tower Records / Wizard Tower Recordings

Phantom Spell is the brainchild of Kyle McNeill. Frontman for London based classic metal stalwarts, Seven Sisters. Having established his command of songcraft over several albums with the UK's twin-guitar renegades, McNeill has decided to add a second string to his bow. Delving heart-first into a musical love letter to his favourite prog rock artists of yesteryear. As McNeill elaborates: "Musically, this is an area I've wanted to explore for a very long time. The classic prog records have truly captured my imagination and continue to inspire me. I hope that in some odd way, this can be seen as me trying to repay the favour to those bands for enriching my life – a tribute to the dorkiness and grandeur of prog rock!". A tribute, it may be. However, this is more than a mere copycat experiment. Those who have followed McNeill's work over the years have come to expect a certain level originality and attention to detail. This new project promises to follow in that same tradition. After releasing the single, "Keep On Running", in July 2021 to much praise, the stage is set for Phantom Spell's debut album. Through "Immortal's Requiem", Phantom Spell presents a spellbinding sonic journey. A journey in which fractured thoughts of a deteriorating clairvoyant are given form as cascading guitar harmonies and weaving mellotronic passages. Songs like "Dawn of Mind" and "Seven Sided Mirror" effortlessly navigate shifting sonic textures with purpose and unabashed curiosity. Akin to the theatrical majesty of those dear Kansas and Yes gatefolds tucked away in record collections worldwide. You would be forgiven for thinking this facade of shimmering synthesizers is a means of escapism from what we face in the real world. However, amidst the grandeur is a stark vulnerability on display. The driving electrified rhythms of "Up The Tower" clear the heady smog of spell-craft and make way for a direct message. After all, Phantom Spell was born in isolation. A child of the plague years and a necessary catharsis. As the project creator, Kyle McNeill, explains: "At the core of these songs are insecurities and emotions we'll all encounter in our time. Even if you're an immortal wizard". This sincerity makes for a compelling juxtaposition against the baroque instrumental passages and fleeting guitar work. The album's only instrumental track, "Black Spire Curse" showcases McNeill's aforementioned guitar work perfectly. Navigating complex melodies and Hackett-like dreamscape soloing with equal dexterity. Culminating in a grand cacophony of marching rhythms and hedonistic simplicity before gently easing in to the lull of an acoustic/hammond organ combination. Foreshadowing the awakening that is the slumbering beast, "Blood Becomes Sand". The dynamic peaks and troughs that give the album such life are on full display here. A quality that brings the listener back time and time again. With "Immortal's Requiem", Phantom Spell present a complete work. Rounded and satisfying enough within itself while presenting avenues of exploration for a later date. A fitting opening chapter to a new story!

[specialagentlokitty]

Thomas Barrow x Male!reader - love to hate you, hate to love you

Part 12:

It started to become routine over the next two months for you and Thomas to sneak into each others room, swap shirts when you could, and no one knew a single thing.

Yes they knew about Thomas, but they had no idea about you, and you were both trying to keep it that way for both of your sakes.

Today you were sat in your office when he came sauntering in with a smirk on his face and you looked at him.

“What?”

“Nothing, you have a letter.”

He handed it over and you opened it.

‘You need to come now. It’s time.’

You slowly set the letter down and you clenched your jaw, looking up at Thomas as he walked out and when he was gone, you gathered everything related to Demigods you had stashed around your office and took them to your room.

Setting them on the bed, you made your way upstairs to his lordships bedroom and you knocked on the door and waited.

You were called in and you walked in, hands clasped behind your back.

“My lady, I’m sorry I was looking for his lordship.”

“He’ll be back in a minutes is everything alright?”

“I’m here to hand in my notice effective immediately I’m afraid.”

“Why on earth would you do that?”

You turned around to look at Lord Grantham.

“I’m afraid I cannot say my Lord, but Henry is more than capable of taking over my position.”

“Is it something we can help you with? Give you a reference? Anything to change your mind?” Lady Cora asked.

“I’m sorry my lady but no, I must leave. I’m sorry.”

“I see, well, I hope everything goes well for you.” She smiled.

“Thank you my lady, my lord, I hope perhaps to see you again one day.”

“And you will always be welcome back.” Lord Grantham said.

You nodded and left, rushing back to your room, you sat down to write a quick letter, and you began to shadow travelling with all your belongings, just dumping them into your cabin.

Once you were finished, you changed into your demigod uniform, and you laid your guardsmen uniform on the bed, gently setting the letter on top of it.

You went into on of your draws and pulled out a photo and set it inside the paper, and you looked around.

Sighing heavily, you raised your hand, and ghost appeared.

“Yes sire?”

“Stay hidden from the rest, but please, keep an eye on them all for me.”

“Your wish is my command sire.”

The ghost vanished from site and you left Downton Abbey for good, heading back to the camp you walked over to the big house.

“The first set of quests have been handed out, it’s begun.” Chiron said.

“I thought we would have longer but at least everything was finished.”

You rung the bell, and slowly all the demigods began to walk over, crowding around. Hundreds of them all standing in silence.

“I am aware that some of you knew the reason behind this rushed building behind this camp. But not all of the reason.” Chiron said.

He gestured to you, and you stood up on the railing, looking down at them all.

“The demigods are at war!” You called out.

There was chatter and you help up your hand, making them go quiet.

“More and more quests will be handed out until the final days where this all comes to end! There are more monsters than usual, and you already know that! Chiron and myself have been working in preparation for this day, and the assignments will be handed out effectively immediately. You are to change into your uniforms, your armour and take up arms!”

Chiron stepped forward.

“This could take days, it could take weeks or months but we must be ready! As the son of Hades, (Y/N) is now officially general, and you will report directly to him!”

You dismissed them and they began to run away, and you looked at Chiron.

“It’s him, isn’t it?”

“It is, I’m sorry. We’re tracking him down now, but we still need to know what he wants.”

“When you find out come find me, I must hand out the assignments and begin the new training.”

“We’ve updated the training grounds.”

You nodded your head and jumped down, emotionless face as you walked towards your cabin.

Walking in, you took your jacket and waistcoat off, and you replied it with the black chest plate, it was light, and easy to move in, and you put your coin in your pocket.

You walked out your cabin and the leaders for all the others were stood in their armour looking on at you.

“We’re ready general.”

“You are all now to be referred to as captain, you are responsible for your cabins and their safety, as well as those who have yet to be claimed by their godly parent. You will report to one another and me should you need.”

“Yes sir.” They all said.

“Good.”

You began to give them their assignments, and you pointed to the leader of the Ares cabin.

“You are to help me train everybody, anybody who is not busy or on a quest will report to training.”

“Yes sir. I will round them up.”

You nodded and walked over to the training grounds, and you jumped up on the tree stump as you watched the demigods gather.

“As many of you are aware, this is Theo, the Captain for the Ares cabin. He will begin your training effectively immediately.”

“Yes sir!”

Theo began to work, and you stood watching with your hands clasped behind your back.

“General!”

You looked down at one of Hermes children.

“A quest, for you. Chiron has it.”

“Thank you.”

You shadow travelled up and stood next to Chiron as he held the paper in his hand.

“Child of the underworld, the tallest mountain, find your flame.”

“Everest?”

“That’s the tallest mountain, but I’m afraid I don’t understand the rest.”

“I’ll figure it out, I’ll leave now. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone for.”

Chiron nodded and you left, appearing at the base of the mountain you looked up, and began to walk.

You didn’t need to go to the top, you would know when to stop when you got there, and so you walked, battling the snow, not bothered by the cold.

You kept walking.

You stopped and looked up at an owl.

“Screech owl.”

“Underworld child.” It greeted.

You regarded it for a moment.

“You know where I need to go.”

It swooped down, landing on your shoulder and you carried on walking.

“My father sent you, didn’t he.”

“Only to guide you to where you need to be.”

You nodded, and for what felt like days you kept walking until finally the owl flapped it’s wings and you stopped by a cave.

“This is as far as I go.”

It flew away and you walked in, eyes quickly adjusting to the dark.

“Find your flame…” you mumbled.

You had a feeling you knew what it meant, very few children of Hades could use Pyrokinesis, and the prophecy was saying that you could as well, or you were supposed to.

It was rare they could use it, but whatever the reason may be, the oracle was set on the fact you could, which was why you would’ve been sent halfway up the tallest, coldest mountain.

Sitting down, you rested your sword in your lap and stared at your entrance.

You could fight of the cold for a while, you had quite some time before it started to get fatal, so you began to work, trying to figure it out.

Thomas went up to your room that evening to talk to you, and when he walked in he looked around the bare room confused.

“(Y/N)?”

He saw you uniform and sword laid out on your bed, and he walked over, sitting next to it them, he picked up the letter and opened it.

Your photo fell out and he slowly picked it up, looking at it, wondering when you had gotten the time or the money to get it done.

Setting it in his pockets, he turned his attention to the letter.

‘Thomas,

I’m sorry it has come to this, if you’re reading this I am gone, I had to leave. Please do not question why, do not try to find me, or not try to track me down.

His lordship already knows, he has no doubt told Mr Carson by the end of tonight and if you have yet to read this letter, you would already know.

Please do not look for me, please do not expect me to come back. It is nothing you have done, and I wish I could give a reason but I cannot. I had to leave and it’s as simple as that.

I knew this day was coming, and I was waiting for it to come. Now, I must leave everything I have built behind, and remember nothing but the memories I made along the way.

Don’t bother with camp half blood, Chiron won’t tell you anything, neither will the others. I hope we do see each other again, but in case this is it, goodbye and forgive me.’

Thomas grabbed your letter in his hands and he ran back down the stairs, and stopped short as he nearly crashed into Lord Grantham.

Thomas gasped for air.

“Mr (L/N) left a letter saying he left.” Thomas panted.

“Yes. He spoke to me not long ago about it, I would have said sooner but with the dinner we were too busy.” Lord Grantham said.

“He he say why my lord?” Daisy asked.

Lord Grantham shook his head.

“No, I’m sorry. All he said was he had to leave.”

“He said he wants to explain but can’t, not to look for him and not to expect him back.” Thomas said quietly.

Lord Grantham held out his hand and Thomas reluctantly handed over the letter and when he was done Lord Grantham handed it back.

“We will go tomorrow, myself and Mr Barrow to speak to Chiron and see what he knows.”

“Very good my lord.” Mr Carson said.

Thomas couldn’t sleep that night, and as they drove over to the camp, he was nervous.

“Hopefully we can get some answers.” Lord Grantham said as he stepped out.

“Hopefully my lord.”

Thomas looked around and led Lord Grantham down the path, and they were met by Chiron in his wheelchair.

“We need to talk about (L/N).” Lord Grantham said.

Chiron took them to the big house and sat them in the living room.

“He’s not here my Lord.”

“Where has he gone?”

“I’m not sure, he came, dropped some things off and left.” Chiron said.

“He left Barrow a rather concerning letter.”

Thomas handed over the letter you had left him, and Chiron slowly read through it, nodding his head.

“I can assure you it’s nothing like you think My Lord, (Y/N) is not a danger to himself.”

“Then tell us what’s going on immediately.” Lord Grantham said.

“Nothing my Lord, I’m sure why he’s left, but I will get him to write to you if I hear from him.”

Lord Grantham didn’t seem convinced, but he couldn’t push the subject any further, so they left again.

But Thomas didn’t give up, on his half day a few days later he went back, and walked up to the big house where he was greeted by Chiron sitting waiting.

“They told me you were coming.”

“Where is he really?” Thomas asked.

Chiron shook his head.

“I cannot say.”

Thomas rummaged through his pocket and pulled out your photo.

“He gave me this, a photo of him. If you knew the kind of relationship we had you would know that isn’t normal for him.”

“You two had a relationship built up of anger, and hate. I know.” Chiron said.

He gestured for Thomas to sit on the chair next to him and he did.

“But I also know, you relationship progressed more than you think over the past few months. So, would it be so strange if a friend gave another friend a photo?” Chiron asked.

“Yes, it would be.” Thomas said.

Chiron sighed a bit.

“Thomas I cannot tell you what you wish to know, it is not my place to say.”

“Then just tell me where he went!” Thomas snapped.

“I can’t.”

Thomas looked at Chiron.

“When was the last time you saw him?”

“The day he left Downton Abbey, he came here, we spoke, he then left.”

“That was nearly five days ago, surely you have to be worried! Looking for him!”

“I am worried, but I cannot go out looking for him. He will return, he always does.”

Thomas furrowed his brows a little bit.

“He’s done this before?”

“Once for three months. But he always, always returns Thomas Barrow, let that knowledge ease your mind.”

“I can’t. There’s something more going on and I demand to know.”

“Demand as you might you shall not get any answers out of anyone here.”

“Then I’ll keep coming back until you tell me!”

With that, Thomas stormed away and down to your cabin and Chiron let him, shaking his head at Theo who pointed.

You shivered, slowly breathing, watching as your breath turned to mist.

Your body was covered with snow, just like the rest of the cave, your skin deathly pale, and you were exhausted.

Looking down, you closed your eyes and took a small breath, you focused, and you watched a spark but nothing more.

Sighing, you closed your eyes and began to refocus your mind.

You had to do this, you had to get it.

Thomas left that evening, and Chiron watched him go.

“He’ll be back you know.” Leon said.

“I’m expecting it.” Chiron said.

“It’s been five days Chiron…” Leon whispered.

“He will be back, have his cabin warmed at waiting.”

Leon nodded and walked away, and Chiron got out of his wheelchair, making his way inside.

Five days turned into a week, and as Chiron was walking past the cabins he stopped and turned.

There, sitting on the floor in the shade was you, pale, covered in frost, shivering and breathing shallow.

“Theo!” Chiron called.

The centaur rushed over and picked you up, and with Theo they rushed to your cabin, bringing Arthur down to tend to you.

Your lips were blue, and you looked at Chiron.

“It’s… done…” you breathed out

“Good, now rest.”

You nodded and Chiron left to announce your return to the rest.

It would take days for you to get back on your feet, even longer for you to reach full strength. And Chiron prayed to the gods they would give you the time you needed to get better

[technaureus]

7 Mistakes to Avoid When Hiring an Odoo Developer

Choosing the right Odoo developer can make or break your ERP project. Many companies rush this decision and face delays, extra costs, or poor results. To help you avoid common pitfalls, here are seven mistakes you should watch out for — and how working with Technaureus can make all the difference.

1. Not Defining Your Project Clearly

One big mistake is hiring a developer without having a clear plan. If you don’t know exactly what you want, your Odoo developer can’t deliver it.

Tip: Write down your business goals, required modules, custom features, and deadlines before you hire Odoo developer.

2. Focusing Only on Cost, Not Skills

It’s tempting to pick the cheapest option. But choosing based only on low price often leads to low-quality work and hidden costs later.

Tip: Look at the developer’s experience, portfolio, and past projects. A skilled Odoo developer saves you money in the long run.

3. Ignoring Odoo Certification

Not all developers have the same level of knowledge. Certified Odoo developers follow best practices and understand the platform deeply.

Tip: Always ask for certifications and proof of training. When you work with Technaureus, you get certified developers with real expertise.

4. Overlooking Communication Skills

Technical skills matter, but clear communication is just as important. Poor communication can cause misunderstandings and mistakes.

Tip: Make sure your developer speaks your language fluently and is available for regular updates. Technaureus ensures smooth, timely communication throughout your project.

5. Skipping a Proper Background Check

Some companies hire the first freelancer they find online without checking reviews, references, or past work. This can be risky.

Tip: Always check ratings, client testimonials, and case studies. A trusted partner like Technaureus provides proof of past successful Odoo projects.

6. Not Discussing Support and Maintenance

Many businesses think the job is done once Odoo is live. But your ERP will need updates, bug fixes, and support over time.

Tip: Ask your developer if they provide ongoing support. With Technaureus, you get a complete package — from setup to long-term maintenance.

7. Forgetting to Plan for Scalability

Some developers build a solution that works today but doesn’t grow with your business. This means costly upgrades later.

Tip: Choose a developer who understands your long-term vision and can build flexible, scalable Odoo solutions.

Why Choose Technaureus to Hire an Odoo Developer

Technaureus is a trusted name when it comes to Odoo development. We help you avoid all these mistakes by offering certified developers, transparent communication, flexible support plans, and custom solutions that fit your budget and business goals.

When you hire Odoo developer from Technaureus, you get a partner who cares about your success from day one.

Conclusion

Hiring an Odoo developer is a big step for your business. Avoiding these seven mistakes will save you time, money, and headaches. If you want a stress-free experience, let Technaureus handle your Odoo development needs — so you can focus on growing your business.

[vmlnrzmp4]

matsuno chifuyu — you don't have to say anything, i'm already here.

tw: self harm mentions , mild smut , lemme know if i missed any.

the dark blue colours had already covered over the yellow ones. chifuyu observes as he looks out of the big windows in his office. he looks at his wristwatch then stacks a bundle of paperwork.

"i think im sick"

few hours ago he received your message. every moment he looks for more work to distract himself. yet everything worried him.

only if he had a normal job...like if he was a pet shop owner—he would've skipped a day at work so easily without having a big big difference. that wasn't the case—for now that he's the right hand man of the top manager of the biggest criminal organization in japan.

he inspects the last report before placing it on top of the pile of paper. pulling the sleeve up to look at his wristwatch again. enough for today. he exhales.

"takemichi, i'll leave early today, that alright?"

"mhm what's the big rush? wife called?"

chifuyu smirks half way, "yeah," he says leaving the scene.

he scoffs at himself. wife. no marriage, no ring on your finger, yet never denying when you're referred as his beloved.

he unlocks his phone, opening your chat. feeling guilty as he sees that he left you on seen. but then there's another message.

"i wont be home tonight"

panic fills in as he hurriedly starts the car, taking a turn.

he understands why you would be at your old place. a small apartment which felt more like home than the luxurious penthouse you stay in every day with him.

your apartment didn't have guns hidden for whatever purpose or an area where he told you to not be at. instead, it was one which you could actually call home.

he stops the car when he reaches most way and walks along the rest. stepping into the lift, pressing the button to your floor.

he liked the view more from through the window—where he could observe the domestic life he once had.

a small ding indicates he reached your floor. the time felt long before he had opened the door to your place, placing the keys on top of the shoe rack as he announces he's home.

"tadaima~"

he walks in seeing your clothes scattered on the floor outside the bathroom. the bathroom door was unlocked—which was weird considering your habit of checking the door at least ten times to confirm it was locked even when you're alone.

he guesses you didn't hear when he knocked a few times while calling your name, "im coming in," so he invites himself when he doesn't receive an answer.

the air was so moist and so warm, it was almost uncomfortable. he calls your name again when he sees you in the bathtub. the moment your eyes meet his emerald ones, he knew you weren't sick as in having cough and cold. you're overwhelmed.

"hey," he pulls a stool to sit beside the tub. tears are flowing from your eyes which you're not even aware of, "baby...don't cry."

his heart breaks. your face shows no emotion, you're not panting, not sobbing—you're only letting the tears fall from your eyes as you sit there helplessly. and they don't stop.

you're ashamed. you wish you had put a bath bomb or something in the water. but now you're completely naked in front of him. your bare body from the clear waves of water—it's all visible to him. you are so very ashamed.

“don't cry baby,” So softly he wipes your tears, cupping your face in the process.

you're still ashamed. still embarrased. you hug your knees, the actions causing him the pull back his hand. the water touches his hand for a mere second. it's not right. sinking his hand in the water, pulling away after a few seconds. the water was too hot. that explained the hot moist air in the surrounding.

he looks at your body. a prominent red shade he sees. so gently he calls your name, stroking your hair. his heart aching again as he sees your hair being of uneven length.

just cause.

was your typical excuse when he asked why you cut them like that. the same excuse responsible for the scars on your arm.

he's beside to take care of you but he knows just picking you up and putting you on the bed as he looks after you is stupid. at least for now, it's stupid, the way it sounds so easy. he had to take actions where he doesn't do what you don't like. he knows you don't want anything other than to be alone in this tub till the water gets cold.

so he distracts you from your sorrows with that mundane man-the-work-sure-was-tiring today. he's going on and on about how a colleague got some reports printed wrong. another one got files mixed up. how he watched the face of another one when he slapped a pile of paperwork on the desk and how takemichi almost fired an assistant for spilling coffee on his suit.

chifuyu went into more detail about whatever. he knew you didn't pay attention to most of the things he said. but he saw how his voice lulled you to relax.

going on and on, he finds a rubber duck to fiddle with. later noticing how you kept looking at the yellow figure. he hands it to you. his heart aches again but with softness this time as he sees your face brighten up the slightest. oh how much he adored it.

you looked at him sadly when he stopped talking, "what happened then?" please keep going. he listens to your silent request as he chuckles before telling all the interesting things of today. he watches how you were least bothered about his stories and most focused on that damn rubber ducky.

"and then—" he halts at his words when you bring the rubber duck to his lips, "kiss," you say. and he kissys the duck. then grabbing your wrist, placing another one on your forearm where the scars located when they shouldn't have. few more kissys he trails upwards until you take your hand back, fidgeting with the rubber duck before he could proceed more.

his smiles softly. probably having a telepathic conversation with the duck—he thinks as he looks at you.

where are you going? you don't question.

be right back. he assures.

"here," the box still had half of the yummy ice cream left, "eat up," the ice cream already started to melt due to the temperature. a satisfied look on your face he observes as you take the first bite. you tell him to continue with the talking while you continue eating.

he had undone two of the buttons and rolled up his sleeve. the tie and belt also discarded. his hair was pushed back and you notice the sweat on his face and chest.

you scoop a spoonful and bring it up to his lips. he happily accepts it. the second time, he rejects. the third time, you urge him. after finishing, you hand him the container which still had some melted ice cream. you didn't had the appetite for that. putting it away, he dips his hand in the water. it was still hotter than lukewarm.

“let's go to bed yeah?”

you nodded. but didn't move. how could you? you were too tired. blame the warm atmosphere and chifuyu's soft raspy voice. bet you would fall asleep in no time when you lay down on the sheets, “c'mon," he calls but you don't move. you're still bare and now embarrassed that you realise it.

"chifuyu—" you yelp when he suddenly picks you up. he walks out with you in his arms and places you at the edge of the bed. picking up the towel that laid beside to dry you off.

a wet drop lands on the back of his hand and he looks at you, “baby?” he whispers. you're crying. you have your arms folded and legs joined together. you avoided meeting his eyes. he gets it. you're still shy despite him seeing you like this many times. cute. he thinks as he drops on his knees.

you watch—shocked in suddeness as he parts your legs, his hands on your thighs, “chifuyu—”

“can i?”

you stutter, your own voice betraying you, “but ‘m tired.”

"you don't need to do anything baby, just relax for me," he waits for any gesture from you to keep going. but you're so flustered to do so, "say something baby," he whispers. rubbing your thighs to ease you. and when you do, he dives in, his tongue and mouth on where you needed him the most.

but god, you felt pathetic. you couldn't even moan properly due to tiredness. he saw it. he saw it when he looked up at you. he saw it when you called yourself pathetic.

he massages your thighs, pretty praises leaving his mouth, assuring you. you're not pathetic. you put your hands in his hair, ruffling slowly and grazing his undercut as he moans against you, "so beautiful."

you cry out his name when you finish and fall on your back, exhausted. he kisses your thighs before he gets up, "let's get my baby dressed yeah?"

he walks over to your closet. eyes immediately lay on the hoodie. it was his after all. your favourite and the comfiest one. then he rummages to find some comfy shorts.

"my pretty baby," he says as he dresses you up. tucks you into bed. dims the lights as he heads to the bathroom to freshen himself up. maybe he'll take a cold shower.

by the time he's back, you're already asleep. his heart softens. you looked so fragile when you sleep—it convinced him that you were made out of glass.

he looks out of the windows once. the dark blue colours being covered with even darker shades. yawning, he lays next to you, pulling over the blanky

hours pass. he's awake. in the living room, looking outside, he has a cigarette in his mouth and a lighter in his hand, debating whether he should light it or not. he continues to flick the lighter a couple of times then shoving it in his pocket while the ciggerate still stays in his mouth like a lollipop.

the milkman's always this early? it still was dark outside. the paperman also passes shortly after. a cat stretching after it wakes up from slumber on top of a trashcan just to go back to sleep. he observed some senior citizens on the rooftop as they do yoga. a guy leaving home after kissing his wife. probably off to a business trip. he sees a dog strolling around. it would be a mess if it meets the cat.

"chifuyu..."

he look at you as you walk up to him, rubbing your sleepy face.

he immediately puts the ciggerate away, “you're up early—” he stops at his words when you hug him so tightly, hiding your face in his chest.

"thank you."

"what for?" he rubs your back and caresses your hair, "taking care of my baby?"

you hum and whine in his embrace, all the praises and names he called you were almost overwhelming (in a good way ofc)

your eyes meet his when you look up. not longer than a second or two—you look away. you tried so, chifuyu was quicker to hold your jaw to make you keep looking at him. he's glad he didn't light the cigarette. capturing your lips with his into a soft kissy.

it was still early and few seconds of kissing already got you breathless. he plants a kiss on the top of your head when you press your cheek against his chest.

it was only his heartbeat that you could hear. he knew you could. that was until hissing and barking were heard too. seems like the cat and dog met.

“i love you,” he confesses. you hum, as you tell him you do too while the two of you watch how the dark blue colours get covered with light blues and yellows.

playlist.