#you know what i'm going to make some more food that might be wise given. the drinking. anyway discuss.

[utilitycaster]

so I've been drinking and I've decided to rewatch Midst 3x04 "Foundation" for reasons and anyway. what's the deal with protein in the highest light. Like, not to go bro mode here but Phineas and Jonas aren't small guys and they canonically lift and need to be in shape. And I know you can have a plant-based high-protein diet if you work at it and I would support that, but like, is there fucking beans and rice. is there tofu in the un? mushrooms? all these motherfuckers eat are flowers. there is fern jerky. Does Jonas have mirrorhawk dip to grimly eat out of the can with a spoon at the end of the day so as to achieve his macros? their steaks are made out of SUNFLOWERS that's NOT going to work

[love-that-we-were-in]

the harder the pain, the sweeter the sun

the aftermath of Luke's quest. or the consequences of not being a hero.

a/n: hello i didn't mean to be so sad on my entrance but we move! have fun (i'm so sorry)

It shouldn’t be like this, he thinks as he steps back across Camp Half-Bloods borders. There’s still the same mill of activity, archery and pegasi and swords grating against one another. Everything is exactly as it was when he left. Some people notice him as he makes his way towards his cabin - they don’t make small talk, what’s the point of that when he’s not the hero returned. His scar, still fresh, still raised and red across his face, feels heavy. It’s almost a beacon; a guiding light towards his failure. No one comments but he can feel it, the shift in energy as he walks past each cabin. Pity for the son of Hermes. 

His bunk is untouched. 

Collapsing onto the sheets, he glances around the space. It’s only him here, faced with his own reckoning and renown. His bunk is untouched but there’s two abandoned opposite, a careful stack of belongings at the end of each. Before dinner, he’ll change those sheets. He’ll pack Cora and Eric’s belongings into a box to stow away in the big house, amongst a dozen others he’s left there over the years, and he’ll burn shrouds to them with his campmates in the evening. 

Luke wonders, as he takes in the makeshift beds on the floor, if it was even worth coming back at all. 

Everyone moves on. Within days, there’s barely a mention of either of his quest companions. Both of them were unclaimed, watching their lives tick by in the two years he’d known them with little idea of who they were. The Stoll twins were given their beds upon their arrival at camp two days after he returned. They had been claimed, sent in the right direction by Hermes himself, and Luke despises the way he has to sit down with people he’s known for years and tell them they’re back to sleeping on the floor. Seniority is one thing - being claimed is more important. 

He trains. It’s the only thing he can do. There’s no pride that comes with failure. Some of the Ares kids jeer at him but none of them try to fight him, just watch as he fights with Annabeth like old times. Knife against sword. He trains and he studies and he watches as the floor of Hermes cabin becomes a minefield of belongings as summer peaks. 

Little will change between now and fall, he knows that with certainty. He’ll still be stuck burning food for his father, willing something to happen that will earn him a deserved quest. Maybe it’s foolish, this desire to try again, to keep going on quests until he returns from one he can say was his. Not a feat of Hercules, but a tale of Luke. He has camp glory, he needs more than that.

*

Summer ends, as it always did. He says goodbye to more cabinmates than anyone, standing at the edge of the borders until the sun is nearly setting in the sky. Thalia’s tree is behind him as the last kid leaves, an eleven year old girl that had done nothing more than stare with wide eyes every time he lifted a sword. He wonders if he’ll see her next June at all. 

“Back to basics again,” Annabeth says from behind him and he rolls his eyes as she shimmers into existence, baseball cap in hand. “Do you think it’ll get easier?”

He forgets sometimes that she’s still a kid. Wise beyond her years, a strategist to be admired, but just a kid. And a first time cabin counselor. She hasn’t said goodbyes like this before, to everyone she’s housed over three months. Teenagers that had looked to her as their leader, even if they didn’t understand her being given such power. Children who revered her position and her history as if she were a Greek tale herself.

Luke had understood it, had fought for it in April when Kieran Ho had sent word to Chiron that he wouldn’t be returning that summer. She had seemed so prepared to take on the role. He hadn’t realized that it might take more of an emotional toll than she was ready for. 

“Honestly,” he leans back against Thalia’s tree, surveying the camp below them as if he’s never seen it before. Annabeth glares at him for it. “It gets harder every year. It doesn’t end.”

“Some of those kids aren’t coming back.” Annabeth says it as a statement, a fact of life that they’ve both come to terms with. But there’s a shake to her voice, the kind saved only for when she’s terrified of being wrong, so he lets it linger in the air and get carried away. He thinks that’s answer enough. 

*

Winter Solstice comes and he feels ready. Months of only fighting Clarisse and Annabeth. Meals spent with the busiest table still, but with nothing to talk about. So long dedicated to being angry, to dreaming, to waking up in a cold sweat from everything he’s been given permission to see. 

He steals the bolt. It’s a simple plan, one he doubted originally, but it works a charm. There’s no questioning how important the Gods think of themselves anymore, how above everybody else they view themselves (literally and figuratively) to be. He escapes from floor 600 of the Empire State Building with the source of Zeus’ power in his possession and no one bats an eye. 

Annabeth will never have to come to terms with losing campers. Thalia’s sacrifice won’t be in vain the way it has been since his return. Hermes won’t be able to ignore him any longer, pretending as if being a glorified mailman means more than his son. By next summer, the world will already have begun to change. 

Trekking through Manhattan, he understands now why he was destined to fail against Ladon. What his scar will come to represent in years to come. Luke Castellan was never meant to steal an apple - he was destined, instead, to change history and with that, the world.

[slyfire]

Connection between Kuras & the Soulless?

So I had a little thought that could easily be/mean nothing, but I thought to share anyways.

Note that I've not a great theory person, but I hope to at least give a general sense of what I'm talking about. Also this isn't really a theory per se, but more just a couple observations. The basics of what I wanna talk about is related to when we see Kuras in-game, along with some design things.

I first started thinking about a 'connection' between the soulless that attacks the MC at the start (that's later killed by Mhin), and our lovely angel-doctor Kuras simply based on Kuras's first and second appearance.

We first meet Kuras after (I believe?) an unknown amount of time after the MC (the player character) is almost killed by the soulless. MC regains consciousness, and finds themself in a clinic in Eridia, being watched by Kuras. MC finds out Kuras both saved their life, and also somehow stitched their arm back on.

I brought you to my clinic, of course. You were the only survivor from the caravan, barely clinging to life. You needed immediate treatment.

Which...you provided?

Yes.

This entire first meeting doesn't really give any meaningful connections, but does raise some questions.

How did Kuras find the MC? Was he just out & about, and noticed the attack? Was he told? Could he sense it? ...etc.

But from I get from the opening scene, MC was close to Eridia, but not that close, so the question of how exactly Kuras found the MC still twirls around in my head a bit.

So the story so far is.... Caravan Attacked by Soulless > MC left for dead > Saved by Kuras, and wakes in Eridia.

Eventually, Caravan!Soulless makes it's return, but it's cut short by Mhin who kills the soulless for good. But more importantly, Kuras also shows up.

Thematically, his appearance is most likely just a 'Hey, you've met all the LIs!', but plot wise, it's never really explained. Kuras just sorta shows up. You could assume where MC was attack was on the way to The Wet Wick, or assume this attack happened near the clinic's location. But there's no mention.

So both times we see Kuras is after an almost-lethal confrontation with the soulless.......yes that's all I had when I got thinking. I wasn't gonna dwell on it more, until I looked at the soulless & Kuras's 'true' form side by side...

There's two main elements both share.

Eyes all over body

Many fingers Starting with the more clear one, both figures have eyes/eye-likes things all over their bodies. Placements are different, but both are about the same shape. The soulless's eyes are a yellow colour, and while we can't really exactly say for the eye colour on Kuras, if his 'human' appearance is anything to go by...

We know Kuras is an angel, and angels in Christianity are often associated with eyes, so it being a key feature in this 'true' form makes a lot of sense.

We also see two crying eyes on Kuras's 'true' form's lower torso which have a different look then the rest, and the Soulless also has two round-shaped eyes on it's head.

Now this is a bit more uncertain since Kuras's true form is only a silhouette for now, but from the looks of it, the hands have fingers with longer claw-like nails. On the back of the Soulless, there's a bunch of sharp shapes that as you get closer to the head, look more and more like human fingers with longer claw-like nails.

There's a few more loosey-goosey stuff, like the shoulder areas or upper thigh areas, but nothing certain.

...and that's all have to say!

Quick summary, but there might be a connection between this Soulless and Kuras because...

Kuras always seems to show up after an encounter with this Soulless without any given reason

There are some design similarities between Kuras's 'true' form and the Soulless

I'm not saying anything like I think Kuras is the Soulless, but it's food for thought.

Well, to me it is. I mostly made this for myself so I could put my thoughts together, so please don't take this super seriously, That being said, if you have any further thoughts, I would love to hear them too!

[princessamahle]

a tour of the hashira's estates part 9

Shinobu: Within each season of the series we have seen the butterfly mansion countless times. And each time we visit, we see a room never shown before or more of what we hadn't seen last time. It's the biggest out of all the hashira estates we've seen.

Now to understand why, let's start off with what we know about the estate so far.

Within kanao's flashback of her early childhood, we've seen her brought to the estate after escaping her abusive father with kanae and shinobu. The home is shown during the fall/ winter time.

The estate doesn't just act as a home but a hospital to the many slayers who visited and are guest here. Kanae acts as a doctor and mother/older sister to all. She also welcomes younger children specifically girls to work and live with her to become nurses to the other slayers. And while she takes on the role of a hashira she wouldn't wish being a slayer on anyone especially young girls. It is done by choice as they gradually become older. Some grow up to be slayers and some move on to become a bride. They are always given butterfly hairpins as signature attires for the butterfly mansion. Many girls have taken perished from kanae's grasp but they always came to the cemetery to pay their respects for those they've lost.

With a little background lets talk about whats actually there exterior wise.

Based on the angles of which tanjiro arrives it's safe to say that their are atleast to buildings on the estate. One is the main house where kanae and shinobu have their respectable rooms including kanao, aoi and the younger girls.

While the other slayers are resting and being nursed in the second building as a medical unit. This is where tanjiro inosuke and zentisu stayed when they needed to recover.

There are private rooms used when the patients are need needed for serious medical attention. It's possible that the first day tanjiro was brought here he was put in a private room of his own because he was the only one able to control nezuko and no one knew what to make of nezuko at the time.

As the days go on nezuko is more trusted around shinobu and was free to roam around the estate as she was becoming more human by the day.

when they're not resting they are taken to the dojo for rehabilitation training.

It's pretty big inside and has the appropriate amenities for getting your physical physique back intact.

When your not training you can also build up stamina by eating in their butterfly kitchen. Where aoi and the kakushi are mostly preparing food within the course of the day. Making breakfast lunch and dinner day by day.

The dining hall was also shown for a brief moment as the boys were shown to eat on tables with chairs instead of the traditional Japanese dining style.

There is a bathhouse shown as a young shinobu is washing a very young kanao.

It could be placed on the left side of the home based on the windows structure of the building.Not much was shown in the flashback of the rest of the estate. As I'm theorizing kanae might have still gotten medical clinic building built at the time.

We've also seen Shinobu's office and possible bedroom. As not much was shown but does clearly see where she keeps all her studies and medicines. The extra is probably just her sister kanae's room used as a shrine for her coping with her sisters passing. But it could very much be her room too as siblings in japan tend to share rooms together.

Now for the exterior, it's pretty massive as the girls love to garden and allow many butterflies to swarm in their estate. They have a beautiful pond set up. A walk way filled with stones, and a well for them to use outside while training. They like to grow hydrangea flowers during the spring as earlier depictions of their estate has shown a weed like garden during the fall or winter time.

They have many training tools for the slayers to practice on if they choose to stay before going on missions.

At first I thought the butterfly mansion was close to the Ubayashiki estate but when muzan came to the estate it wouldn't make sense to keep nezuko somewhere that muzan could easily find her. Especially with the younger girls being present.

The kakushi do travel fast as they must have stamina to carry others to estrange locations of the demon slayer corp.

We do know however shinobu does have a district she and kanao protect on their own that hasn't been name yet but has been shown. They do their daily shopping and possible night watches in order to protect others from demon attacks. It is the duty of the hashira to keep their respectable districts safe.

Based on what I've gathered, I'm giving this estate a perfect 5 out of 5 star review! It was perfectly analyzed shown the most out of any hashira and showed all its amenities for a slayer to acquired for health strength and stamina. Like kanae, shinobu really cared for others as she never wanted someone to ever feel the misery of losing family and a home ever again. Your always welcome and meet many new faces to get along with. It gives them a reason to fight and gain a goal for happiness they once had. Even after shinobu dies kanao kept the spirit of the butterfly mansion alive for aoi and the others.

And that's it! I'll probably make a master list soon to put these all in order so please stay tuned. But i want to thank you all for enjoying this analysis with me! I hope to make more maybe not demon slayer related. But who knows!

[duckiemimi]

how certain are you about gojo not being dead or his revival? do you think gege might bring him back? some buddhist revival theories make sense to me but if the main problem is that gege just wanted him gone for the plot to progress then nothing is bringing him back. i also see that a majority of people are now praising the chapter when i'm still not happy about it so it might even give the impression that the chapter is well received....

i’m not certain at all because i can’t even tell what we’re working towards plot-wise 😭

before 237, i was 50/50 about it. it could either happen because his “death” just seemed so lackluster and lacking something (a lot of things) that there might be more to come, especially knowing how capable gege was at wonderfully handling death as a subject, but it could also not happen because gojo wasn’t even given the grace of an on-screen development from his unsealing to his death. (i talk about this more here.) after 237? if he’s only going to come back as a convenient plot-device, i’d rather he stay dead.

i honestly think gege killed him off to write him out of the story because nothing is indicating to me that there’s more to what we saw in 236. not even a mention, not even a scribble of his body in the battlefield in 237. (but i don’t know. prove me wrong, gege.) 236 would’ve worked if the gojo vs. sukuna battle was a short story separate from the overarching storyline, separate from jjk in general, and instead of gojo and sukuna, they were both new characters that we got a brief rundown of prior to the battle. but like everything is, the story should be bigger than them both and the battle. 236 and the battle should fit in with everything else, even the very edges of where we started.

there’s this habit in fandoms (but especially in the jjk fandom) of retroactively justifying (and subsequently, plainly accepting) chapters/plot points that weren’t initially well-received. it’s crazy because when 236 came out, the only people praising the chapter were sukuna stans and people who heavily favor the technical side of jjk more than the narrative (and some shippers who’ve lost the actual plot long before, but what’s new).

a week later, there are all these discussions saying, “well, maybe we just didn’t get gojo’s character,” or, “well, actually it’s in-character of him.” it shouldn’t have to take a week for part of the fandom to reluctantly accept what was written. hindsight nuance is supposed to add another level of understanding, not change the whole perspective. this isn’t a case of an author withholding information to keep readers on their toes, this is a case of an author not being consistent in characterization (among other things).

we keep trying to piece mismatched puzzle pieces for it to make sense, but we’re in the long run now! the bigger picture (including gojo’s character) should be clearer than before! why are we left more confused now than before, and so close to the end of the story, too? if the majority of the fandom is confused (all of us, honestly, don’t lie), the problem isn’t us not understanding—the problem is the goddamn writing.

“let them cook!” yeah, but if you leave the fire on too long, the food burns. then the kitchen catches fire. then the house is in shambles. it’s okay to admit that the story we once knew is no longer the same. it sucks, but it really is okay to dislike a chapter and be disappointed with an author. and it’s okay to take your time grieving what you once knew (hell, it’s why i’m talking more on this app these days). and it’s okay to keep reading and following along because you still have hope.

the way i talk about this, you’d think the whole fandom is in a relationship with gege and gege just keeps negging us 😭 some people have faith, despite the downhill track record, some people are pissed and feeling cheated, and some don’t even know what to think. coping is different :’)

[nerdyvocals]

Need to know your thoughts on Cynthia putting on that jacket when they get home from the dance. Cause I have a couple theories which both might be false.

1. The jacket is their father’s jacket and Cynthia needed some type of love so put the jacket on for comfort.

2. The jacket could be what Cynthia wanted to wear to the dance…

Would love to know your thoughts on this scene.

Hooo boy I am so glad someone asked me specifically about this, because I am actually very qualified to talk about it!!!

If you don't know me; Hi, I'm Levi, I am a theatre student, I'm currently working toward a degree in costume design and technology, and I have Big Opinions on clothing. Before I actually start talking about said opinions, let me first give a quick rundown on Costumes 101. Disclaimer: my education has been largely in the realm of stage production, but in Costume Land there is a very large overlap between stage and screen, with the main differences being on the technical side, which I will get more into later. That said, given the genre and tone of this show, my stage knowledge will apply.

And a word of warning: this anon has released a beast and this is going to be a long post, therefore I am putting my analysis under the cut. Also, apologies to those I tag, just want to make sure images and gifs get their proper credit.

Now, first and foremost, the purpose of costume on both screen and stage is to give insight into each character and passively tell a story. Therefore, nothing is coincidence and everything is intentional. Color, silhouette, piece, and style are all meticulously selected to bring a character to life and tell the audience who they are.

Example: In the live yesterday, Tricia Fukuhara mentioned requesting a beret she saw in the costume shop for Nancy, and while they did end up putting Nancy in several hats, she was told berets specifically were reserved for another character, Lydia. We do actually see another thespian with a beret, Alice (who IMDb tells me is played by Emilee Nimetz), which has... interesting implications, but that's for another post.

So let's see what we're working with here.

(gif by @stbot)

The first thing I notice is fairly obvious: this coat doesn't fit. That shoulder seam should be sitting right on the ball of their shoulder (think top of the shoulder cap); it's nearly halfway down their upper arm. Think it looks long here? Even when they're standing, it hits about mid-thigh. Not to mention that the sleeves themselves are baggy and way too long. They are swimming in this coat.

What does this mean? This coat isn't Cynthia's.

One could argue that it wouldn't be outside the realm of possibility that Cynthia would own an ill-fitting coat; given the time period, I imagine it would be hard for a girl to find men's clothing in her size. Except, for the most part, Cynthia's masc clothing does fit.

(gif by @greasegifs)

(gif by @wlwshipper)

(gif by @greasegifs)

(Image by @jealous-kippen)

Cynthia clearly has no problem finding men's clothing that fits. That said, there are technical reasons behind why a garment must fit beyond story-telling. Namely: actors' safety.

Out of any single one of Cynthia's looks, I would argue that this monstrosity:

(Image credit: promo shot)

would be the most likely candidate for ill-fitting garment, character-wise. Everything we know about Cynthia suggests that they aren't the type of person to buy a dress they will likely only wear once (i.e., they are poor: single-parent home, always hungry, excitement over free food (Buddy's campaign candy), and it appears that they live in an apartment).

All this to say, it would make sense for this dress in particular to not fit, and yet, it does. Why? There's a dance scene. While the hand jive itself is not a particularly intensive dance move, Ari is standing on tables, climbing on cars, jumping, crouching, all manner of things that would be dangerous to do in a garment that was too big.

(Side note: I've seen quite a few people suggest that this is an old dress or possibly a hand-me-down from somewhere, or if anything, purchased second-hand. I have reason to believe it's not, but again, that's another post).

Of course, Ari, and by extension, Cynthia, isn't doing anything in the Coat Scene (tm) that would endanger them by wearing something too big. Even still, given their previous wardrobe, it's out of place. And like I said before, nothing is coincidence and everything is intentional. And why is it significant that the coat is too big? Because nothing else that Cynthia wears is.

Now, all this was a very long-winded way to say that this is Papa Zdunowski's coat. It's clearly not Cynthia's, and their dad is the only other person they live with. So yes, dearest Anon, your theory is most definitely correct.

Cynthia had just had probably one of the worst nights in their young life. Their friend group has fallen apart, they've messed up big time with their oldest friend, Richie has been arrested, and they're being forced to confront that they are queer. They come home to an empty house, either literally (dad's still at the shop and mom hasn't been there in a long time) or figuratively (dad's asleep, and mom hasn't been there in a long time). Either way, it's not like they can really talk to anyone about what's been going on with them. But they desperately need comfort. So what do they do?

They wear their father's coat like a hug and get drunk on the couch.

Thank you and good night.

(if anyone wants to hear the costume tangents I forced myself to avoid or just wants to hear more costume rants, feel free to hit up my ask box or dms. I chose this career for a reason and if you give me permission, I Will Not Shut Up.)

[indignantlemur]

Let's talk about Andorian foods!

Without at doubt, one of the most enjoyable things about creating Émigré has been creating Andorian foods. We know so much about Vulcan and Klingon food, but Andorians are horribly overlooked beyond a few basic descriptions of beetles, blue meat, and a kind of flatbread. That's like, a meal. Tops. Even if you include drinks, which are ice-tea, hot coffee, and booze, you're not really moving beyond a single meal's worth of food types. And here's the thing - food is a central point in almost every culture there is. How we prepare food, what we consider food, how we present and share it, when and where and with what utensils - all of that is a huge part of most cultures. We have foods that are only eaten on special days, or only for certain meals. We have foods that have special meanings when given as gifts, and things that are traditional to give as part of social customs around weddings and funerals. We have comfort food, junk food, traditional food, fusion food, I'm-too-tired-to-cook food, and so many more kinds. We have entire branches of culinary expertise dedicated to JUST sweet foods. We have specialists who brew, pickle, and blend. We have random folks who make their own mead, or brew their own beer or wine. We have dozens of different kinds of salt for different kinds of finishing touches, for goodness' sake!

So yeah. I have a problem with the whole Andorians-only-eat-like-four-things-maybe approach. It's lazy. I hate lazy writing. So let's talk about some of my ideas, maybe? If anyone's still reading? (hello?)

Andorians are group-oriented people who put their society and their clans before themselves. Group meals therefore feels like a natural continuation of this trend, things like hotpots and fondues, and those fun little sushi bars where the tasty things go 'round and round on a little belt and you just pick up what you like and try not to fuck it up and fumble some painstakingly assembled sushi in front of the guy who made it.

One of the first ideas I came up with following this logic was the idea of a multi-layer lazy-Susan kind of dining table, with concentric rings that allowed for people to rotate each ring independently to pass around different bowls and plates of food, which a central spot for a pot of hot oil to cook your selections with. The utensils by necessity would have to be long-necked and pronged to spear food effectively and not lose their tasty bounty to the boiling oil. The seating around this table would be low, with cushions on the ground in an inset kind of pit in the floor because my Andorians are big on cuddles and sharing warmth. They're a social species, after all, and their home planet is far from a picnic - sharing is surviving.

Let's move onto other kinds of meals! Some of the canon lore indicates that Andorians eat a kind of flatbread and shredded meat, but very little in the way of dairy. So, from that we can conclude that they have at least some kind of flour. From there we can suppose that if they have a basic type of flour they might also have baking beyond flatbreads, even if they don't go in for fluffy yeast-based breads. That leaves quite a few options, really, but I liked the idea of their flour stemming from a starchy tuber like taro-root, or even potato-like spuds. Fried potato flat-bread sounds pretty great, right?

Now for the meats! Andorians are omnivores with a heavy carnivorous leaning, to my mind, because protein gives us the most bang per buck out of the basic food groups. Meat by itself is a solid food choice, but it gets boring after a while so we, and presumably Andorians as well, come of with different ways to dress it up and make it taste different. Salt would be abundant given the expansive oceans on Andoria and in the lore salty things register as spicy to Andorians, so that's practically a new lease on life food-wise! From there, sauces and marinades are a natural evolution, and I really like the idea that each keth has their own unique recipes that they hoard like gourmet dragons. No one knows what all goes into Clan Tha'an's mustard sauce, but by the Spirits is it good! Still, they can't afford to be too reliant on meat as a food source. Andoria is, as we've discussed, a harsh planet. Hunting for meat is a viable survival strategy, especially in large groups, but hunts fall through or go badly. When that happens, it's imperative that a population has something else to live off of: in this case, tubers! Savoury tubers, sweet tubers, starchy tubers, stringy tubers, every kind of tuber! Tubers are quite a resilient kind of plant and they can grow most places as long as the conditions are mostly right. Deep underground, away from the freezing surface temperatures, tubers would grow quite well - especially near a hotspring!

So, we've got tubers, we've got flour, we've got meat - and you know what, if we've got tubers that means we've got space sweet potatoes. Space sweet potatoes could be refined into a kind of sugar substitute! And that means we have BAKING.

After realizing that, I remembered finding a word in an Andorian-English dictionary which references an endearment and also a sweet treat: shev'tak. Quite a troublesome word, if you've read Émigré!

Humans call each other food-related endearments all the time; honey-bun, sweetie-pie, sugar-boo, dumpling, etc. Why not Andorians too, right? But Andoria is a very harsh planet, and things like sugary treats would be quite unusual, and probably very expensive to grow the base materials for and then refine. Given that their diet is probably heavily meat- and tuber-based, given their biology and the conditions of their homeworld, sugary treats would be a very rare, special-occasion-only thing for the majority of their history. They'd probably end up being made in very small portions, too. When I initially thought about shev'tak, I was tempted to make it some kind of sweet bun, but that seemed a little too boring when I sat down to actually describe them. Eventually, I hit upon the idea of these impossibly delicate little pastries, folded in on themselves and shaped like sixteen-pointed stars (or other multiples of four, which is deeply symbolic in Andorian culture) and filled with a creamy custard. Something plausible and demonstrating the artistry for which Andorians are known, but nothing excessively complicated in terms of ingredients. All the work goes into the presentation, and as a gift shev'tak would be a sign of regard at the least and certainly of affection. It would be the equivalent of a fancy box of chocolates, if each chocolate was hand-made specially for you. In the modern era, much of the craftmanship would be subsidized by advanced machinery and more efficient techniques, much like today on our world, but there would still be a strong association of luxury, of hand-made sweets on a frozen ice planet where very little grows and none of it above ground.

And being called shev'tak, in light of that, may be a little more than just an endearment, I think. It's being called something special, something worth burning time and resources for. Precious, even.

But, of course, Andorians are very stoic. They leave a lot of their social norms unsaid, and trust that these things are simply understood. Even when they aren't.

... Are we having Dagmar/Shral feels yet?

[edgeray]

Hello Ray! 🍅 anon here (again!)

I've been swamped irl these past few days (hence the relative radio silence) but. oh my goodness. I think I speak for all of us when I say that we have been eating GOOD. Going to ruin my digital footprint and quote zy0x on this: "I'm (s)creaming!" (both ways intended)

I absolutely love your dragon AU!Arle being a humongous dragon and nobody knows how old she is, thinking that she's some ancient beast when in reality she's still young, then "kidnapping" reader back to her nest where they spend some family time together... The trio coming to reader for food mainly because Arle Cannot Cook is hilarious, no wonder they went ham on the fish!

Arle only able to "cook" will forever be a running joke, istg. She and Tighnari would probably get along cuisine preferences wise, with their dislike of strong seasonings. Imagine Arle and Sumeru food?? Heavily seasoned to an inch of its life??? She's going to cry internally.

Let's avoid talking about the Angst TM of your madoka AU (Absolutely well written, love the style, love the effort, but screw it it's angst I left sobbing)

Comfort fics??? like one of your recent ones where reader just??? up and feeds Arle and then falls asleep in her arms??? are really to die for!!! ARLE IS SO SOFT OMGOMGOMG- Plus the teasing and banter that you throw in here and there? Absolute GOLD.

But I do agree about Arle on her period would show absolutely zero signs given what we know about her nature. Making Arle feel safe enough to fall asleep in reader's embrace is. SO ADORABLE HUHUFIWHUFWFIOJF;OI;JFJFIOW ARLEEE 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 It is prime time to spoil her.

"The beach episode that no one asked for" I think I can speak for everybody that it just hasn't been asked for YET because Nobody has cooked it YET. THANK YOU FOR THE FOOD-

Poor reader having to choose to look at either the children having fun and enjoying themselves and Arle's handsome body? Reader you have two eyes and so many Kameras!!!!! Give the children the true family outing experience by shoving the Kamera in their face as they laugh! Unleash the inner pervert by taking all sorts of photos with your husband's bare ABS EXPOSED!!!

"It's my sixth? seventh? Who knows, I lost count" reread of practically your entire fic offerings and I would like to express my continued gratitude. If you need more requests I'll be happy to send some! (I'm not sending requests currently because you might have some on your list and I am not adding on to it)

[I still have. not. done Arle's story quest. I'm not ready for the heartbreak even though it means now I've been farming using the handbook instead of being able to go to the arena. I don't need 100 primogems. I need Clervie and Arle to still be together /copium]

Hi 🍅 anon! Getting your asks always makes me giddy haha. No worries on the radio silence.

First of all, I'd like to say I made the smart descision of staying up until 7AM and then deciding maybe staying up longer isn't a good idea, so I went ahead and slept until I woke up again. My response will be fueled by 3.5 hours of sleep so apologies if it's not coherent.

I'd like to say that you will be seeing more of Dragon AU considering that my 3 out of 8 requests sitting in my inbox are asking for a continuation 😅🤣 which frankly I'm surprised about because there wasn't much Arle in it and it wasn't that good quality of my writing but I guess the inclusion of the trio was nice and the random worldbuilding I threw in there. I don't know why I was so detailed about the fantasy elements.

I like. Highkey forgot that Arlecchino didn't like heavily seasoned food so I had it so that she liked Sumeru food because of the spiciness 😅. Fr I'm a fake fan. I think that's what I put in "Rest Your Worries, Lax Your Heart" (do not ask me how I come up with titles for my requests. You can tell how tired I am after making requests based on how lazy the titles are lmfao).

I also like lowkey forgot about the existence of Kameras. Taking pictures during vacation is not natural to me and kind of forgot that I can actually do that. 🤣 hence why i forgot about including it in "Rest Your Worries, Lax Your Heart." (can you tell this was the part that was very self-indulgent? I wanna touch her abs 😩)

Do the story request, get your heart ripped out like the rest of us. Don't be a coward /j. If you need Clervie and Arlecchino together, don't worry. I do have a domestic Arlevie sitting in my inbox...

Anyways, this makes me super giddy, and was a nice start to my morning. I'm glad that my efforts are worth it and that people like you get to enjoy my work. 🫶 I still have much more to write over the summer. I've looked back on my Google Doc where I compile all the requests and looks like I've written over 20k~ words since starting writing at June 1, and it's been 13 days since (with a 3 day break because of vacation which means on average I write around 2k~ words per day that I'm actively writing). And somehow in that time, I've done 12 requests 😲.

At this rate, by the end of the summer, I will have written enough to have a whole ass novel worth. 🤣 I've never had the commitment for long books so that's why I stick to oneshots. I definetely would write a 100k+ Arlecchino x Reader if I could but sadly I cannot. That bitch would be discontinued by like 25k because I get bored of the plot or something, idk.

Enough rambling ehehe, I really appreciate this ask 🍅 anon. 🫶 do expect me to write daily for a while. much more content to make you (s)cream hehe :D

[minty-mumbles]

Red Verbena

Summary: Whumptober Day 1: Adverse Affects - Fairy Hyrule eats something he's not supposed to.

TW: Allergic reactions

A/N: Yeah, I know it's two days late. Wonderful way to start the month 😅 I won't be doing every prompt this year like I did last time, but I'm still doing some of them! Big thank you to @transzeldas for beta reading for me :)

This is part of my Flowers and Fountains AU | Read fic on AO3 Here

~~~

The day kept getting worse and worse for Hyrule. He’d woken up with a sore throat the morning before, but it had disappeared by lunch, and he’d hoped that it hadn’t meant anything. Despite Hyrule’s wishes, the soreness was back the next morning with a vengeance, accompanied by a cough and a bone-deep weariness. 

The other heroes had been eyeing him all day but didn’t bring up how he obviously wasn’t well. A cold was concerning, and something to keep an eye on, but no reason to stop traveling for a day. Some of them might not like that fact and would have preferred to let their sick companion rest for a day, but no one protested when Time ordered them to pack up that morning.

Throughout the day the group kept a slow pace for his benefit. Despite that, he’d had a harder and harder time keeping up as the day wore on. He was sure his heavy breathing was painful to listen to. If they stopped to camp for the night before the sun even brushed the tops of the trees, no one mentioned it, and no one protested when Hyrule wasn’t given any chores to do that night. 

Hyrule himself would have protested if he hadn’t known he wouldn’t have been able to collect firewood, fill water skins, or patrol even if he’d been asked to. He was dead on his feet and felt too weak to stand back up once he’d collapsed on the makeshift benches around the fire. So instead, he spent the evening sitting fireside by Wild as the cook prepared dinner. 

He didn’t offer to help the cook, which was unusual. The others claimed that Hyrule ruined meals if he even so much touched the food, but if he saw Wild needed help, Hyrule never hesitated to offer to help. Hyrule couldn’t cook very well, even he knew that. When he was by himself, he usually ate food raw. (Fairies never bothered to cook their food, and neither did he before he joined the group, which meant he was quite bad at it.) But cutting vegetables or stirring the pot was simple enough, and something he took pleasure in doing. 

Tonight, however, he voluntarily regulated himself to simply keeping the cook company, and Wild didn’t offer him any tasks. Touching the food they were all going to eat, even just to cut it, wasn't wise if he was sick. And he was sick, even if no one was saying it out loud. 

Hyrule inwardly cursed the fact that fairy healing magic was more specialized for injuries and wounds, and he couldn’t just magic away his sickness. 

After dinner, he was the first to set up his bedroll, and no one complained when he took one of the prime spots near the fire. Wind was quick to join him, and Hyrule was grateful for both the sailor’s company and the story he masterfully wove for his sick companion. It gave little call for Hyrule to speak, letting him rest his sore throat, and it provided the traveler a distraction from how horrible he felt.

As he listened to Wind’s tale, Hyrule saw Wild once again approach the cooking pot. At first, Hyrule thought the cook was going to make something for dessert or warm some milk up for the group to drink to ward off the night chill, as he often did. Instead, after a few minutes of Wild hovering over the cooking pot, the smell that started to permeate the clear was somewhat sour, and Hyrule was certain he saw a lizard tail tossed into the pot. He figured Wild was making some sort of potion or elixir for him and decided it would be in his best interest to not pay attention to what Wild was adding to the pot.  

He didn’t want to know what disgusting things the cook expected him to drink. Don’t get him wrong- he was grateful there was someone in their party who knew how to brew potions, but it meant that Hyrule was learning things he never wanted to learn about what sort of ingredients went into the concoction.

The potion would be a relief, whatever was in it, so he would drink it, and just try hard not to think about lizard tails.

He was more than relieved when he saw Wild pull out a bottle, (Why did he always seem to have plenty of bottles? Hyrule always had trouble finding them.) and fill it with the purpley-red liquid simmering in the pot.

“Here, you go, freshly brewed! It’s a hearty elixir I’ve modified to be more helpful for sickness instead of injuries.” Wild explained cheerfully, handing the bottle over before returning to the fire to bottle up the leftover elixir. Hyrule wasted no time in pulling out the cork and gulping down the potion. 

He grimaced at the taste. Once, when he’d been indulging in a rare luxurious bath in his Princesses’ castle, he’d accidentally gotten soap suds in his mouth. The soap had smelled amazing, like warm cinnamon and honey, but the suds he’d gotten in his mouth had tasted horrendous. That was what this elixir reminded him of. He grimaced slightly, forcing himself to swallow it all. He could vaguely feel the magic of the elixir start to sink into his body. 

Better to have a bad taste in his mouth than to be stuck like this for the next few days. 

Wild, seeing the face he made, approached again, this time handing him a small bowl that contained a strange red mush. Hyrule took the bowl, noting it was cold to the touch. “What’s this?” He asked curiously as he poked at the concoction with the spoon Wild handed to him. 

“It’s a mix of wildberries, blueberries, milk, and honey, mashed up together and chilled. It’s refreshing in hot weather or if you have a sore throat, and you look like you need it. Also for the taste. The elixir I use for sickness doesn’t taste as bad as the stuff for physical wounds, but it’s still not good.” Hyrule nodded thankfully at Wild, ignoring the cook’s mention of Hyrule’s appearance. Wild almost never filtered his words to be more polite. Hyrule liked that about him. Most fairies didn’t have a filter either.

It was probably the truth anyways. If he looked as bad as he felt, he wasn’t a pretty sight. But Wild’s cooking always made him feel better. The champion was just too good at his craft for his food to do anything but comfort. And with the horrible taste still in his mouth, Hyrule could definitely use a palette cleanser. Wild had claimed that this potion tasted better than the usual ones, but Hyrule wondered if Wild had ever actually tasted it because it was truly foul. He could barely keep from gagging even after he’d swallowed all of it.

From what Wild had said, this dish couldn’t be better suited for him. A fairy’s diet was primarily fruits and plants, so the wildberries and blueberries sounded perfect. Milk and honey, on the other hand, weren’t part of a fairy’s regular diet. Honey, or really anything that sweet, was hard to come by in his era, thus highly prized, and milk was a rarity reserved only for those fairies who were brave enough to venture into Hylian towns. 

(Hyrule, when he’d seen the plates of milk and sugar cubes Malon and Time laid out around the farm, had been stunned by their generosity. If he snuck out later that night to join his sisters in feasting on the fresh sweet milk, no one but himself had to know. He’d considered granting the couple a boon for their generosity, but any little thing he could think of was already done by his sisters. The couple’s roof would never leak, the new calf on the way would be delivered smoothly, the cat that hung around in their barn catching mice was always in a good mood, and the nearby lake that Time liked to fish in always had a thriving population of the couple's favorite fish to eat. Hyrule had left the farm a little disappointed he couldn’t offer a bit of good luck, but satisfied that they would be well looked after.)

Regardless, this frozen treat Wild had given him looked delicious, and he was proven right when he tried a scoop. It was perfectly sweet and creamy, and definitely seemed to help cool him off. As he swallowed it, though, he frowned. His throat itched, and he coughed slightly.

He thought Wild’s potion was supposed to help him feel better, but his throat didn’t feel better. Actually, it felt worse. 

He coughed again, taking another spoonful of the cold fruit mixture, hoping it would soothe the burn. It didn’t. In fact, the sticky sweetness of the honey caught in the back of his throat, making him break out into a coughing fit. When he finished he sat heaving for breath, and everyone was staring at him. 

Wind reached out, feeling his forehead. He frowned. “His fever’s gone,” Hyrule wanted to argue that he never had a fever in the first place, but knew that denying the obvious wouldn’t get him anywhere. That, and he was still catching his breath and wheezing. “So I guess the potion’s working. Why is he still coughing, then?”

Sky frowned. “If it’s something contagious, we don’t all want to catch it. A kind of sickness that can’t be treated with potions would be dangerous, as far as we are from a town and medical help.” Hyrule cleared his throat, but that didn’t help. The uncomfortable tingling was slowly melting into a burn in the very back of his throat. 

Warriors nodded. “He’s right. Sickness can spread easily in confined quarters. We should stay away until we know what he’s got that’s resisting one of Wild’s potions.” At that, Wind stood, obviously planning to move away from Hyrule. Hyrule bit his lip to stop the protest from escaping him, knowing it was for the best, but Wind ended up being halted anyway. 

“No, Wind, stay there.” Warriors ordered firmly. 

Wind immediately protested. “What? But I don’t want to get sick!”

“You’ve been in close contact with him for the past several hours. If it's contagious, you might already have it.” That caused Wind to shuffle uncomfortably. Hyrule couldn’t blame him. The thought of being affected like Hyrule was right now- as he doubled over in another coughing fit- was not a pleasant one, he could admit. 

Although, strangely, something about this felt slightly familiar. Once Hyrule straightened back up. Wind handed Hyrule his water flask, which he accepted easily in exchange for the bowl of now-half-melted fruit mush. The water felt soothing on his throat, but only for a moment. Once he swallowed, the burning came back just as much. 

Wind crouched back down next to him, frowning. “Hyrule, say AHHHH.” He demanded, sticking out his own tongue to demonstrate. Hyrule complied, too exhausted to question him.

When Wind was satisfied with his quick look at Hyrule’s mouth, he turned to the others. “His mouth didn’t look like that before. It’s really red, and the back of his mouth is all swollen. It looks like what my sister looks like when she eats mangos. Allergic reaction. It makes sense because his fever’s gone, so it’s probably not whatever he was sick with.” 

Ah. So that's why the sensation was familiar. Hyrule was allergic to strawberries. He hadn’t thought about that, but now it made sense that the sensation was familiar.  Hyrule didn't accidentally eat strawberries often, but it did happen occasionally. Sometimes the castle cooks forgot he couldn’t eat them, or sometimes he didn’t check what kind of fruit was in a pastry he bought from a town. 

Hyrule heard Legend snap angrily at Wild, but didn’t look at them, too busy massaging his throat. “You fed him strawberries?” 

“What? No!”

“He said that was the only thing he’s allergic to, though. Are we sure it’s an allergic reaction?”

“Could you have forgotten what you put in that fruit mix you gave him?”

Wild protested, and he sounded so distressed Hyrule gave up on rubbing his throat and looked up at him. “No! I threw out everything I had that had strawberries in it when he told me he was allergic to them! Just like I did with peppers for Four!”

Time interrupted them, sounding calm despite the high tensions. “Wild, why don’t you walk us through what you put into the food you’ve given him this evening?”

Wild ran a hand through his hair, still looking stressed and flustered but pulled himself together. “The soup I made for dinner just had some vegetables- carrots, peas, celery, onions, stuff like that- some chicken stock, chicken, and noodles. The fruit mix I gave him just now only had wildberries, blueberries, milk, and honey.” Hyrule had sat and watched Wild make the soup so he knew it was nothing in there, and he hadn’t tasted anything off about the fruit mix he’d been given.

Wild continued, listing off ingredients on his fingers. “The potion had hearty lizard tails, ground up bokoblin teeth-”

“Teeth?” Someone interrupted him, sounding disgusted. Hyrule himself winced and tried not to focus on the fact that he’d drank that.

Wild sighed shakily, apparently annoyed by this reaction, but still unnerved by what was happening. “Yes, teeth, and some red verbena and hyrule herb to try and cut the nasty flavor, and-”

“That’s it,” Time says. He looked like he just had a realization that didn’t really have anything to do with the verbena. “Hyrule’s allergic to verbena.” Hyrule didn’t have time to process how Time could have possibly known that before Warriors cut in.

The captain sputtered, aghast. “What- verbena? He’s allergic to verbena? I’ve never heard of anyone-” That’s the point Hyrule decides to check out of the conversation. He already knows exactly how it’s going to go, with Warriors pointing out he’s never heard of a Hylian that’s allergic to verbena, and how strange that he just so happens to be allergic to the completely innocuous plant.

Except it wasn’t innocuous, and he knew why he was having this reaction to it, and it wasn’t because he was allergic. He’d been truthful when Wild had asked the group if they were allergic to anything, and he’d answered that he was allergic to only strawberries.

Fairies ate plants. They also ate fruit and the occasional bug, but they were known folivores. They ate plants. And, naturally, some plants came up with defenses against their predators.

Red verbena was an uncommon herb that had evolved over time to have a substance on its leaves and stems that tasted very unpleasant to fairies. Although he’d never tried it before himself, he recalled one of his sisters telling him that it tasted “Icky, like soap!” sticking her tongue out in exaggerated disgust. Hylians didn’t seem to have the same problem. Apparently, the herb had a faint but lemony taste to it.

The bad taste wasn’t the only effect. If fairies ate enough of it, it could cause their throats to burn and swell up and cause suffocation, and Hyrule didn’t know how much Wild had used in the position but he suspected, as it became more and more difficult to breathe, that it had been more than enough.

How Time knew it was the verbena Hyrule had reacted to, he had no idea.

Actually, no, that was wrong. He had a very good idea as to how Time knew, but the traveler's mind was more focused on the growing pain in his throat, and not the fact that Time knew Hyrule was a fairy. He could focus on that later.

A hand was rubbing his back now, and he could barely hear Wind’s concerned voice calling out to him over his wheezing, heavy breaths. It had become too difficult to drag in all the air he needed to speak, so he couldn’t respond to the worried sailor. Further in the background, there were the familiar sounds of the rest of the group bickering. 

After traveling with the other heroes for so long, the rowdy noises of disagreements and play fighting had become comforting to Hyrule, letting him know that the others were present and at ease. It was when the group was silent that bothered him. 

The only kind of silence that ever fell over the group were the bad kinds; after arguments with anger still laying heavy in the air, the worried strained silence of an injured friend, or the quiet look exchanged when they could all feel strange eyes looking at them from the shadows.

So normally, he hated the silence, but right now he wished the others would just shut up. 

Thankfully Wind seemed to be paying a bit more attention to Hyrule than the rest of them. Distantly, he heard the sailor give a shot of “GUYS! Shut up, Hyrule’s dying!”

Hyrule kind of doubted that. This wouldn’t be enough to kill him. Hopefully. All he needed was the potion specially brewed for this kind of occurrence. Although it wasn’t technically an allergy, the potion he carried in his pack for his allergy to strawberries would probably work just as well for this. He couldn’t muster the breath needed to ask someone to get it from his pouch for him, though.

Thankfully, Wind’s dramatics proved useful, as they often did, and the others seemed to shut up. That, or Hyrule just couldn’t hear them anymore. 

In fact, the only thing he could hear was his labored strain breaths that grew less effective by the moment. He was crying, he thinks, tears streaming down his red face. He distantly realized that at some point he’d fallen from where he’d been sitting, back down to his bedroll, feeling weak as a newborn. 

That probably wasn’t good, but Hyrule could only focus on the burning in his throat and his darkening vision. 

~~~

Hyrule’s mouth was still sore. 

Four had been smart enough to fish the allergy potion out of his pack. Four’s potion had done it’s job, saving him from choking to death on nothing. He didn’t remember the smith forcing him to drink it, so he must have been unconscious, or very close to it. He would have to remember to thank the smith for using one of his own potions to help Hyrule instead of delaying to try and find Hyrule’s.

Wind, who hadn't left Hyrule’s side since he woke up, scrunched up his nose at Wild, who was standing in front of the pair. “Ugh, Wild, give him a break, for goddesses sake. So what if he forgot to mention that he’s allergic to something? It's not a big deal!”

Wild nearly shrieked. “Not a big deal? He almost died!”

The champion ignored Time’s mutter of “That's a bit of an exaggeration,” and continued his tirade at the shame-faced traveler. 

“Do you have any other weird allergies you want to fess up to now?” Hyrule shook his head quickly, not sure whether to be ashamed or to find the situation and Wild’s distress slightly amusing. 

Not that Wild’s distress was actually funny, of course. He could understand Wild being upset that he had accidentally poisoned his friend. But the whole situation was sort of a comedy of errors. Now, instead of getting better from his sickness, Hyrule was regulated to bed rest, and the group was forced to stay where they had set up camp for the next day as he recovered. 

Wild eyed him skeptically but didn’t prod him anymore, stomping off to the cooking pot. Hyrule swore he heard him muttering something about “stubborn heroes of courage” as he moved away, which was a bit hypocritical, as Wild himself was one of said stubborn heroes of courage. No doubt the cook was heading off to brew up another batch of the allergy potion, as he’d been doing all morning.

 Hyrule did wonder how Wild did it. He’d sniffed the bottle that Four's potion was in, licked the brim of it, and then set to work brewing more. Apparently, he’s never even heard of such a potion before, but all he needed to replicate was his senses. Hyrule didn’t know how Wild knew what the potion's ingredients were just by smelling and tasting it and desperately wanted it to remain that way. 

He sighed, letting his eyes roam over the clearing. When he caught sight of Time looking at him, he quickly looked away, not daring to meet the old man’s eyes. 

They would need to talk. Hyrule knew that. Apparently, Time had known something about Hyrule that Hyrule hadn’t known the old man knew. Hyrule really wanted to know how long Time had known. When had he figured it out? But not now. He did not want to have that conversation in the middle of camp when he wouldn’t be able to run away.

Not that he thought Time would hurt him. He didn't think Time would ever do that, not on purpose, and now that the secret is out, there wasn’t any need to be skittish. But something about the situation made him anxious all the same.

Damn his Hylian blood and all the anxiety it gave him. Why couldn’t he have been born a full fairy?

Instead of Time, Hyrule managed to accidentally lock eyes with Warriors, who’d been staring at him for a while now, which Hyrule was trying desperately to ignore. 

Too late, he looked away, but Warriors had already taken his eye contact as a sign to come over. He sat down heavily on the bench next to where Wind was keeping him company, and nudged the sailor. “Why don't you go help Wild?” he asked. Wind scowled deeply at him. 

“Are you going to yell at Hyrule too? He didn't do anything wrong, he doesn’t deserve to be yelled at.” 

Warriors shook his head, a smile pulling at his lips. “No, I just have a few questions for him. No yelling involved, I promise.” Wind seemed satisfied with that. He moved away, although not toward Wild like Warriors suggested, but towards where Sky was sitting against the base of a tree, carving some small wooden figure. Wind had recently become enamored with the Skyloftian’s hobby, and begged Sky to teach him at every opportunity.  

Warrior kept his voice low enough that the other heroes scattered around the clearing wouldn’t hear him. “Hyrule, I have a few questions to ask you.”

Hyrule tilted his head questioning, or at least as best he could do from where he was still laying down on his bedroll. “What?”

“Was it really the verbena that caused you to react like that?” Hyrule nodded, having a dreadful feeling he knew where this conversation was going. 

Warriors continued. “Hylians aren’t supposed to have a reaction to verbena. It’d be like someone being allergic to eating meat. It doesn’t make sense, it just doesn’t happen.”

“Hylia’s head on a pike,” Hyrule swore miserably, muttering too quietly for Warriors to make out. This was the exact conversation he’d wanted to avoid with Time, and now he was having it anyway, with Warriors. 

Warriors blinked in confusion, taken aback. “What did you say?” 

Hyrule sighed and shook his head. His hands were shaking. “Nothing, Wars, go on, what did you want to ask?”

Warriors frowned, before asking, “Are you a fairy?”

“Yeah.”

“Uh.” Warriors said, not at all as eloquently as he usually spoke.

Hyrule let his arm fall down from his face, and looked at the captain. He honestly felt a lot better now that the ‘admitting his secret’ part of the conversation was over and done with. “What?”

“... That’s it? You’re just going to admit to it?”

Hyrule shrugged. “Yeah. Why wouldn't I? Would you believe me if I said I wasn’t one?” Warriors shook his head, and Hyrule shrugged again. ”Well, there you go, then.”

“Why didn’t you just tell us before?”

Hyrule shrugged. He was quickly growing tired of shrugging. He was quickly growing tired of this conversation. “I just didn't want to.” The thought of telling the others crossed his mind. Time and Warriors both knew now, and if they knew anything about fairies, he suspected the others were on their way to guessing as well. Despite this, Hyrule felt anxiety twisting in his stomach. He couldn’t tell them. At least not all at once.

The uncertainty of what their reaction would be made him hesitate. Maybe, though, it wouldn't be so bad if he told them one by one?

“Are you going to tell everyone?”

Warriors shook his head quickly. “Not unless you want me to.” Hyrule shook his head wordlessly. That would be the least ideal way for the group to find out, he thinks. He wanted to be there to do damage control, and assess their reactions himself. 

Warriors frowned, patting Hyrule’s knee as he stood up. “I still have questions for you. I don’t want anything like what happened today to happen again, but that can wait. Get some rest.”

As Warriors walked away, Hyrule had a lot to ponder over. 

[historia-vitae-magistras]

I know your blog usually covers other topics, but can I talk about something different for a moment? Dealing with healthcare systems in the US and Canada can be really confusing right? But given the us-costs, do you think it makes sense to automatically favor a Canadian school? I'm American but I'd have in-state tuition. I'm just concerned because I already have

The usual disclaimer this is the opinion of one person and not an expert please do your own research and make your own best choices.

If you have in-province tuition and some fluidity back and forth, I'd say go for a Canadian school because the value on the dollar is much better especially with the exchange rate if you primarily operate in USD. Cost of living, especially food is much higher in Canada than a lot of the US. That said, the healthcare system question is a bit trickier than most people want to talk about.

The somewhat socialized Canadian healthcare system is probably better than a lot of healthcare in the US but it actually does rank fairly low amongst industrialized countries and has been sliding for years. It's hard to find a GP, ER wait times kill people, procedural wait times are for-fucking-ever-and-a-day. I have never had any complaints about my healthcare in Quebec beyond the wait times (keep in mind I am a francophone and I've seen a lot about anglos getting shit care amongst the usual canadian institutional racism) but also Ontario gave me such bad care I am literally still physically paying for it. Nova Scotia was a fucking nightmare too. Best I've ever gotten is in a deep-blue US state at a university hospital because my medicaid and my tri-care overlapped just perfectly my life is much easier. If you have a really good healthcare team in the US and it can remain accessible to you via telehealth or doing your visits on breaks, I'd keep it. Always know where your nearest ER and Urgent cares are, always keep your meds up to date and focus on preventative care because the ER in Canada is pretty much a fucking nightmare no matter what province you're in.

TLDR: Canada is more affordable tuition wise, cost of living is higher. Quality of care is good and affordable, but hard to access. US is likely to be great or terrible, not just the decent Canadian norm but is usually easier to access but might leave you bankrupt.

Again, this is the research and experience of one middle class border straddler. I am not a lawyer or a doctor.

[angelofrainfrogs]

Spend the Night: Ch. 24

~Coauthored by @zeitghest~

Fandom(s): Five Nights At Freddy’s: Security Breach

Description: The familiar melody of Grandfather’s Clock chimes through the echoing halls of the Pizzaplex…

Charlie wakes up in her Puppet’s vessel yet again with one goal in mind: to stop William Afton’s reign of terror for good. She enlists the help of Glamrock Freddy, the emphatic leader of the newest iteration of the Fazbear Band. But there seems to be more to this bear than meets the eye—and the same goes for the mysteriously familiar kid the duo find tinkering with animatronics down in Parts & Service.

With some help from friends new and old, Charlie’s journey into the bowels of the Pizzaplex will unravel mysteries none of them ever expected. 

Rating: T

Read on Ao3

Between the lines I need to read So we can be released from these evil dreams

This RPG is hard to beat with so many secrets that they keep beneath

~Join the Party by J.T. Machinima~

There was an ugly pause in the group. As they let Vanessa go, a woman stressed and hindered by a hypnotic amnesia, Gregory felt bad. He regretted all the mean names he’d called her. It was Vanny being a psycho, not her real self.

And when Michael sprained her wrist... Given it was for self-defense, but still.

Gregory leaned against his father, staring at the door along with his family in pity. They'd have to fight this unaware woman again, he was certain. The thought only made his hate for William Afton grow.

“What time is it? Is there still time to find the last game?” Charlie asked, her urge to save Vanessa as well as Gregory swelling with the sadness in her chest.

Freddy blinked a few times, pulling up his internal clock. “It is 2:47 pm. We have time to look around, although I insist on getting Gregory some more food and water in the near future.”

“Of course; we can’t have Gregory crashing on us!” Michael flashed the boy a grin, playfully nudging his arm before ushering the group to start moving forward. He wanted to save Vanessa as much as everyone else. He might not have gotten to the kids in time, but at least they could try to save her along with Gregory.

“Are there any other arcades, Freddy? If that’s where the first two were found, maybe the next game is in a different one, too.” Michael grimaced, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Hopefully there’s only one more of these things…”

The worst thing would be to miss out on some consoles, making this whole mission for naught.

“There are two other, smaller arcade locations within the Pizzaplex,” Freddy replied, giving Gregory one last big squeeze before setting him down in favor of holding his hand. “One is in Bonnie Bowl and the other is in the Daycare.”

“I'm starving. I need like, a whole pizza,” Gregory said, willing to forget the uncomfortable feeling it brought when thinking on Vanessa's situation. The immortal serial killer piloting a bunny suit with a hobby for murdering children continued to haunt Gregory's thoughts, even in normal conversation. His hand slid into Freddy's palm and began for the door.

“What's the pizza topping tonight? I wanna know if the Hawaiian still tastes the same.” Charlie hoped to move on from the awkwardness of knowing something was officially wrong with Vanessa.

Just fill the uncomfortable burden of knowledge with entertaining the kid, Charlie thought, watching as Gregory's face turned up at the suggestion.

“Whaaaat? Who actually gets pineapple on their pizza?” he inquired, disturbed by the idea. Charlie sighed.

“You have much to learn, kiddo. The pineapple calms down the spicy pepperoni they use. And the ham's there just because ham is good,” she explained as if the anatomy of the Hawaiian pizza was a hard-hitting science.

“In some ways, Charlie, you were always wise beyond your years,” Michael said, patting her back as they squeezed through the door and emerged into the West Arcade proper.

“To answer your question, since the Pizzaplex is not currently open for guests, there are no specials today,” Freddy informed the group. Before their crestfallen faces could stick, he quickly added with a grin: “Which simply means that you can make whatever pizza you would like!”

“Whatever we'd like?” Michael repeated, sparing a look behind him to lock eyes with Gregory. They grinned in unison, already in unspoken agreement to use this power to their full advantage.

Freddy seemed to realize the potential monsters he'd unleashed, for he quickly followed up his earlier proclamation. “Within reason, of course—please do not make yourselves sick...”

“So... No ultimate everything pizza?” Gregory asked, hoping that he and his older brother had the same idea.

He envisioned it clearly. A sturdy deep-dish with every possible combination of crust plus all toppings. Charlie's stomach felt sick just thinking about such a monster grease-ball of a meal—the saddest part being that she had no stomach to feel queasy with.

“No way you'd eat all of that,” Charlie told him, unknowingly goading Gregory to want the mythical pizza even further.

“Hey, I still haven't felt any effects from that scary burrito meat earlier; I could always help,” Michael pointed out, fully on board with encouraging the Frankenstein-pizza. Never mind the fact that he'd only eaten a tiny bit of meat, and this meal would be far more damaging both physically and psychologically... but that only made him more eager to try it.

“The staff may get upset if they see you both messing up the kitchen to get to all the toppings,” Freddy said, trying to think of a way to dissuade the boys without straight up saying no. However, when Michael puffed up his chest, Freddy already knew he was about to use his “Afton bloodline” excuse to get away with yet another thing. As Mike opened his mouth to speak, Freddy relented slightly. “Alright, how about this—you can make an ultimate everything pizza, as long as you also make one that is actually edible.”

“Freddy, do you doubt my cooking skills?” Mike asked, putting on an exaggerated sad face.

“It is not your cooking I am doubting, Michael—it is your ability to legitimately consume this dish.” Freddy couldn't help but smile just a bit as Mike snickered, his obvious happiness both a rare and welcome sight.

“Is it bad if I doubt both?” Charlie remarked, having a strong suspicion Mike was about to bite off more than he could chew in more ways than one.

“You know you're gonna want some...,” Gregory said, egging her on. Still, he was happy his ursine dad would let them get away with making what he’d assume to be a record-breaking pie.

“We can go to the food court—it is the closest place to get pizza,” Freddy said, as the group descended the staircase that would take them to the Arcade exit. Instead of heading straight for the elevator, he continued towards the dance floor. “I would like to say goodbye to Music Man first, however.”

“Heeeey, you guys!” the huge animatronic said upon catching sight of the comparatively tiny group. He waved a back arm, as his front hands were currently occupied. “How're you liking the music?!”

“The 80s songs are much appreciated,” Michael replied, hands in his pockets as he stared up at the DJ. He couldn't help a dark point of anxiety burrowing into the back of his mind when he thought of how terrifying this thing would be if it was infected like all the others... Thankfully, they'd managed to avoid the West Arcade so far during night shift, and he hoped the trend continued through tonight.

The group could see how anxious he was. Charlie and Gregory couldn’t exactly blame Michael. If the DJ wanted to, he could just crush them and be done with it. For now, he was probably the chillest of the personalities inhabiting the Mega Pizzaplex. Charlie threw a wave at the guy—she tried not to think about tonight, if he’d go and try to find them now that he knew there was a child and two human adults waiting to be smushed or pulled apart.

“That’s a choice mixtape you got!” Charlie complimented regardless. “We’re gonna take the little guy to get something to eat! Don’t wait up for us.”

“Thanks for the tunes, DJ!” Gregory called to him after Charlie. He chose to stick by Freddy, as his guardian made him feel comforted as he spoke to new people, regardless of whether this artificial personality was made to be the most relaxed guy in the room. He had to agree with Mike that Music Man’s size was formidable.

“See you guys laaaaateeeeer!” the DJ called, waving every limb not currently occupied as the group walked off the dance floor.

Before long they were exiting the elevator into the main atrium, making a beeline for a now-working escalator to take them right to the food court. There were a few staff milling around, though most were long-past lunch break and had returned to work. This served the group just fine, as Michael prompted Gregory to use an access pass to slip into the back kitchens. There was a lone S.T.A.F.F. bot in a chef’s outfit meandering near the doorway, and though it tracked the group’s movements it didn’t actively try to talk to them or call for security.

Which was good, because if it did, Mike would’ve had to tamper with more company property so they could make their pizza concoction.

“Okay, let’s get this done!” he said cheerfully, excited by the thought of this monster they were about to create. He hoisted Gregory up and placed the boy on his hip, holding him securely with one arm and grinning down at his mildly confused face.

“Three hands are better than two when making this thing, right? Besides, you don’t want to have to drag a stool all around the room to see over the counters, do you?” Michael’s grin shifted into one of brotherly mirth at the teasing dig to Gregory’s height. “Just tell me what we need and I’ll grab it, then you can put as much on the pizza as your heart desires.”

Gregory never thought he was short until he met Michael Afton in all his android glory, towering over the poor vertically challenged lad. Though he wouldn’t admit it, having Mike hold him up while observing the pizza toppings was easier than dragging around a stool.

“First, we’re going to need the pepperoni. Classic,” Gregory began, starting the long list of the weird Frankenstein pie that he envisioned in his mind.

It ended up becoming a savory, meat and vegetable medley on one side. Then on the other, the Hawaiian pizza for Charlie—Gregory decided to add some hot sauce on her side after realizing she was craving something spicy. What he and Michael ended up concocting was a messy pile. They had only stopped adding toppings when they realized they still needed to see some of the thick layer of cheese.

“This thing would kill an old person if you fed it to them,” Gregory said in a half amused, half concerned tone.

“Good thing we’re all so young and spry,” Michael joked, though the slight crease in his brow betrayed his concern about the potential hospital visit Gregory might need if he consumed too much of this monstrosity. As if reading his mind, Freddy placed gentle hands on each of the boys’ shoulders.

“How about you each take one bite and see how you feel?” the bear suggested, unsure of it would be worse for Gregory’s human stomach or Michael’s mechanical one. While they’d been making their ultimate pizza, Freddy busied himself with crafting a standard cheese and pepperoni so his son could actually have something to eat.

Michael nodded, attempting to dislodge a piece of the meat and veggie side which proved nearly impossible due to the sheer amount of toppings. He managed eventually, handing Gregory a plate with the not-so-surprisingly heavy slice. After getting one for himself and a Hawaiian-themed one for Charlie, Mike held his piece up with a determined light in his eyes. “On the count of three, we take a bite. One… two… three.”

At Michael's command, Gregory and Charlie timed their first bites of pizza to his word. Attempting to get every individual piece of meat and vegetable inside his mouth, Gregory had to take a pretty gigantic bite. This took a while to chew, but that single piece had been a meal by itself.

As she managed to taste and savor the flavor of the customized pie, Charlie could feel so many memories coming back with just the taste. For a moment, it was 1980. She, Michael, and Evan were in the kitchen of the dinner making their own monstrosity and eating it out of the way of the chefs and wait staff. They hadn't changed the recipe at all, and everything tasted just as it did back in that wonderful, wholesome year.

Charlie hadn't even registered the warm tears that flowed from the corners of her eyes as she indulged in her food. They freely streamed down her face even as she went in for a second bite.

“Perfect...,” she complimented the chefs, dabbing the corners of her mouth.

Michael’s mind had traveled down a similar road, back to a day where Lizzie and Sammy were playing at friends’ houses and left their siblings under the care of their fathers. William and Henry were busy, giving the trio a perfect opportunity to slip into the kitchen and make the most abominable pizza they could. William was the one to catch them and had chided them for using so many ingredients for their silly experiment, although when he’d subsequently taken a bite of their creation with a shimmer of laughter in his eyes and claiming that they couldn’t let everything go to waste, Michael knew they weren’t in real trouble.

He didn’t notice his own salty tears until he instinctively moved to wipe them away, his gaze shifting to Gregory as he did so.

And there was that damn trauma coming back to haunt him yet again—the boy’s image flickered before Michael’s eyes, shifting between the brother he once knew and the one he had now. “God… why did I—”

Why did I become such an asshole? Mike finished the sentence in his head, covering his mouth with a hand and turning away. He looked like he was about to throw up by the way his eyes scrunched tight, though he really just wanted to scream. If only he hadn’t played that stupid prank, it could be Evan by his side right now…

“Michael…” Freddy’s tone was soft, though the man sill flinched as the bear touched his shoulder. They stared at each other for a moment before Freddy held out his arms, gesturing for the man to come close. He might not fully understand what Michael was going through, but he could still be there for him.

Mike let out a short, barking laugh, not missing the irony of Freddy being the one to comfort him from these memories… but it only took a few seconds for him to fall into the bear’s arms and hug him tight.

Charlie could tell Michael had been thinking the same as her from the glimmer in his eyes—about the way their families used to be. She was still angry, bitter at the life stolen from her. It was a tragic accident what had happened to Evan. Then that poison spread from Evan’s death and into the lives of the Emilys.

She was infected by that poison, too. And so she could never relent, vengeful forever until William’s tainted fountain ran dry. He would pay for making her best and nearly her only friend’s childhood a living hell. She wanted retribution for all those lost souls, including her own.

And justice for Gregory, who had been exploited and traumatized beyond what was reasonable for a child in two nights.

Gregory had felt the melancholy, leaning into Charlie and attempting to lighten the mood. “Wow, pizza’s that good?”

Charlie slung an arm around his shoulder and rubbed his arm twice—then squeezed him into a close hug.

“Just haven’t had pizza like this in a while. Thanks, kiddo.” She excused them both, silently apologizing for the tears that fell off her jaw and onto Gregory’s wavy head of hair.

It wasn't long before Michael shimmied out of Freddy's grasp. The bear wanted to hold onto him longer, as if he knew this short hug wasn't nearly enough to make up for whatever horrific thing Mike was thinking of, but they both knew they couldn't cling forever. They were on a mission, after all.

“Thanks, Freddy,” Michael said quietly, wiping away the remnants of tears with one hand as he gripped the bear’s arm with the other. Before Freddy could reply, Mike set a smile on his face and turned to his siblings. Seeing them in an embrace, he playfully fell onto them and wrapped his arms around Charlie in a bear hug, effectively sandwiching Gregory in the middle. “Yeah that pizza's definitely in my favorites list now!”

“This is almost exactly like the secret recipe pizza Mike and I used to make, you know,” Charlie told their new friends, laughing when Gregory started squirming.

“That's nice—Mike, you're squishing meee!” he lamented, unable to wiggle free from the cage that he and Charlie created with their arms.

Then, behind them came the sudden sound of radio static. It came in and out, breathing almost before a familiar voice rang out. “THAT LOOKS LIKE FUN...”

When Charlie whipped her head around, she was surprised to see none other than Ennard. They'd snuck in so quietly and appeared to have wrapped their limbs in random, ripped up carpet segments—clashing patterns and colors that made them even more of an eyesore. Charlie jumped in place and held onto Gregory tighter as she let out a briefly frightened yelp.

Freddy instinctively moved to the group's side, trying to push Gregory and Charlie behind himself as he stared at the mass of wires and carpet pieces. He recognized the voice as the one he'd briefly heard from the vents, although the sight of Ennard was certainly... something.

Freddy had many, many questions, but he doubted any of them would be answered now. He could feel Michael tense up like a startled cat on his other side, having let go of Charlie and Gregory the second the static entered the room to better protect his family.

“...What the hell have you been up to?” Michael asked slowly, his eyes roaming over the multicolored, 80s-style carpet pieces. However, the answer occurred to him before Ennard could reply, and Mike sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Oh—you're trying to be quieter. For god's sake...”

“Michael...?” Freddy began questioningly, although he honestly wasn't sure what he wanted to ask. This thing sure was intimidating, the fabric flooring only adding to the eeriness as their entire body swayed. A few tendrils moved of their own accord, and Freddy swore one was trying to inch closer to Michael.

Seeing everyone's expressions of wary confusion, Mike realized Freddy hadn't been told what to expect when facing this thing. Not to mention the last time Gregory saw Ennard was in the dark basement, lurking in the shadows as it literally ripped an animatronic apart in front of the boy's eyes. Ennard was quite different in the comparatively bright kitchen lighting.

Michael grimaced, eyes locked onto the amalgamation as he reassured the trio: “Don't worry, you'll be fine... What do you want, Ennard? And why are you out during dayshift?!”

As the group relaxed, Ennard stared at them with a fixed gaze from every visible eye. They were unmoving except for the metal and wires just barely inside Michael's comfort zone. How they twitched in longing to be near him again... The carpet was a nice substitute, though it certainly didn't feel as safe as Michael's own flesh.

“I WAS TOLD TO FOLLOW...,” they reminded, heterochromatic eyes staring holes through the group.

Gregory wasn't afraid of clowns, but he didn't realize Ennard was that huge. Once Ennard caught him looking, they became somewhat standoffish. Aloof, they turned their back to Gregory ever so slightly as if hiding from him.

“WE ARE QUIET NOW... WHAT ARE YOU GUYS UP TO…?” they inquired, looking around the group briefly.

“Eating pizza.” Gregory held out the gooey mess. “Do you want a slice?”

He regretted the offer slightly as Ennard moved in a hauntingly jarring way towards them, body jerking and ropey as strong metal moving under the carpet. The monstrous form barely visible under the thick 80's patterns.

“Absolutely not!” Michael and Freddy exclaimed in unison, swiftly putting themselves in-between Gregory and the approaching animatronic. The pair shared a look, silently in agreement that they did not want to see what happened if whatever made up Ennard's body got gunked up with cheesy grease and toppings.

“Ennard's, ah... components seem to be more like mine as opposed to Michael and Charlie's, so I do not think it wise for them to eat real food,” Freddy explained, trying to be as gentle as possible with his words. Ennard was clearly sentient and aware, but Freddy couldn't help but feel like they'd appreciate hearing the reasoning nonetheless since they seemed quite eager to participate in the group's activities.

And he also didn't want Michael to have another mental break when trying to speak to the amalgamation after he'd just recovered from the last one. By the way Mike's left eye was twitching slightly as he pushed Gregory even further behind him, Freddy could tell he wasn't far off from snapping.

Ennard had stopped mid-walk, the former child-entrapping animatronic eyeing both the slice and Gregory with unknown intent. After focusing their vision, Ennard's gaze landed on Freddy and Michael.

“THAT... MAKES... SENSE—SENSE—SENSE...” Their voice box glitched out, causing them to smack their own chest in frustration to fix the involuntary stutter.

“Ennard?” Charlie would ask, finding the clown face suddenly snapping in her direction to gaze down at her. “Have you been watching us this whole time?” She attempted to make friendly conversation all while trying to navigate and avoid the stalker-like behavior they portrayed. Ennard would shake their head, the motions more jagged than any animatronic the others had seen to date.

“NOT JUST YOU... WATCHING ALL... OBSERVING... HIM...” Ennard had replied honestly, a hint of malice dripping in multiple layers of voice boxes.

“'Him?' Do you mean... William?” Freddy asked tentatively, eyes narrowed in question. He didn't like the dark tone coming from that voice box and hoped it was directed towards the same entity his group was after.

Freddy caught Michael nodding out of the corner of his eye, though he kept his gaze fixed on Ennard, still unsure whether they could truly trust this thing yet. He'd caught the strange way it looked at Gregory earlier and didn't want to take any chances... even if it had saved the boy last night.

“Ennard hates him, too; I can at least tell you that,” Michael confirmed, one of the rare facts he was absolutely sure about regarding the amalgamation. Mike crossed his arms over his chest, observing the familiar way Ennard swayed. The movement seemed a little more cumbersome because of all the carpeting, but it was still just as unnerving at it'd always been. Raising a brow, Michael asked: “Have you learned anything from these observations? Maybe something he's plotting, or... Oh, anything would help, really.”

He seemed to deflate slightly, false confidence punctured by the stark reality of how little they knew of what William's actual goal was besides “get his family back.” They didn't even know where he was right now...

Gregory attempted to look at Ennard, observing their odd posturing. Both Freddy and Michael seemed to be aware of Ennard being much more dangerous than the others. If they wanted to, Gregory was positive that Ennard could and would tear through them all without hesitation. Their last run-in with Michael had left the man shaking while talking to the robot amalgamate.

Ennard looked around the room, eyelids darting and flicking closed, making shutter sounds as they simulated blinking for the boy's comfort.

“BUILDING... REPAIRING HIMSELF... SCREAMING. THROWING THINGS...” they listed off, thinking of all the things they heard and saw William doing during their recon work. “WILLIAM... STAYING BE-BELOW. UNSURE WHERE—DON’T W-W-WANT TO GET CLOSE, OR RISK BEING SPOTTED… HIDEOUT ABANDONED NOW...”

That made Michael perk up again.

“His hideout? The one in Fazerblast?” he questioned, and upon receiving a jerking nod Michael looked to the others with a hesitant grin. “If he’s gone… maybe we should check it out?”

“Are you sure it is empty?” Freddy asked, placing a hand on Mike's forearm to still his excitement. His gaze was still fixed to Ennard, wanting to make sure they would be safe before trying something so risky. The animatronic was strange, but it really didn't seem to mean them any harm...

Ennard shifted their weight, unnaturally leaning with hips jutting out at a sharp degree while answering Freddy.

“THE PAST NIGHT AND DAY... CLEAR OF RABBIT—S...” they replied. Ennard took a step back then, realigning their frame in a more natural standing position that made them look even taller. “NO ONE IN SIGHT.”

Gregory could see Ennard’s gaze drifting back to Michael, as if knowing the man would have the final say in whether they would go or not. He knew better than anyone that Ennard was capable of lying, after all.

Ennard sure was a liar... Or at least, they used to be. Back when Michael first encountered the amalgamation all those years ago, it'd lured him into the scooping room under false pretenses, and Mike had stupidly walked right into the trap.

However, in the Pizzaplex, Ennard seemed different. They'd been nothing but helpful to Mike and his friends, showing no sign of wanting to climb into any of their bodies or otherwise destroy them despite the unnerving stares and tendency to grasp at Michael's ankles. Hell, Ennard even saved him and Gregory from Roxy—a far cry from the last time Mike had been so close to the thing.

“...I trust them—on this, at least,” Michael said in a voice that was barely audible. Freddy finally turned to him, searching the man's face for any sign of doubt. Upon finding nothing but serious determination, he nodded.

“Then to the hideout we shall go,” the bear agreed. He looked back at Ennard, finally giving the mass of carpeted wires a genuine Glamrock Freddy smile. “Thank you for all of your help, Ennard. It is much appreciated.”

It was hard to tell what was going on inside Ennard’s head as they stared down the bear. Their demeanor seeming surprised, bashful even as Freddy thanked them. They belted out a quick rush of nervous static. Then, after collapsing their body slightly, wormed their way back into the vents without another word.

They weren’t used to the kinder treatments. In fact, they were far too comfortable with Michael yelling at them—it was almost safe in its familiarity, in a twisted sort of way. The sudden change in attitude towards the hulking robot had left them rather shy in response.

“That guy has issues,” Gregory said, less in judgmental and more out of pity for the monster as soon as he felt they were out of earshot.

“Gregory, you have no idea,” Michael murmured in a slightly strained voice, running a hand absently through the boy's wavy brown locks as he stared into the vent. 

“Well, I suppose we should put our search for the Princess Quest games on hold temporarily?” Freddy asked, looking between the trio. He still wore a smile, happy that they'd made some progress with their surprisingly helpful stalker and their search for William in one go.

“Yeah; who knows, maybe we'll find a clue about them in the hideout,” Michael suggested with a shrug. He slipped his hand into Gregory's, wanting to keep track of his brother personally until his latent paranoia towards Ennard subsided.

“Wait—did you have enough food, superstar?” Freddy questioned as the group started towards the door. Mike resisted the urge to roll his eyes, wanting to move on but understanding the bear's parental concern.

Gregory had just registered he was still hanging onto the heavy slice of pizza. Now that it cooled, its toppings were fixed in place by the thick layer of cheese. Gregory nodded and told his ursine father: “I’ll eat this slice on the way.”

Gregory was more tired than anything. He needed a nap before the night shift began. They still needed to play the next installment of Princess Quest—and hopefully collect those tickets for Charlie. Still he remained confused at their collective reactions to Ennard when DJ Music Man was so widely accepted. He decided for now not to question it, as his caretakers had done a good job at keeping him safe thus far.

“Let’s get a move on, then!” Charlie told the group, seemingly trying to force a positive outlook before sneaking into the Fazerblast security office. They would need the good vibes, Charlie felt. Who knew what terrible things sat in Vanny’s personal space.

“Hey, Freddy,” Michael began, sidling up to the bear as the group moved as one to the door. “The last time Gregory and I went to Fazerblast, we got stuck—I literally had to pry the elevator open to get us out because we couldn’t finish the game.” He grimaced at the memories. “Is there any way you can make that not happen?”

“You wish for me to override the attraction itself?” Freddy questioned, and Michael nodded. Freddy shook his head, giving him an apologetic smile. “Unfortunately, I do not have access to those types of override protocols. Perhaps a staff member might be able to help?”

“Ugh… the only staff we know is Sophie.” Michael glanced at Charlie, wanting her opinion on the matter. “I don’t know if we want to chance the extra attention… but I also don’t want to get stuck again. What do you think, Charlie?”

Charlie bit at the inside of her lip in thought, weighing the options in her head.

“You said you had to pry open the elevator, right? Tell Sophie there’s damage done to the internal doors and that you need to turn the attraction off,” she replied with a quick snap of her fingers. That had happened when Michael was in his Foxy get-up, so she could only imagine what that hook and claw had done to the door to get it to open. The likelihood of the elevator being busted to hell were high.

“Perfect—hand over that walkie talkie?” Michael took the device after Charlie unclipped it from her belt just as the group emerged into the main atrium. They walked at a steady pace, not wanting to seem in a rush even though they were all anxious to get to their destination.

“Hello, Sophie? Come in, please; this is Mr. Afton,” Michael said, pressing the button on the walkie to speak into the static. 

There was a crackle of static for a moment before Sophie responded with a simple: “Hi, Sir—do you need something?”

“Yes, actually—we’re heading over to Fazerblast. I’ve been informed there’s damage to one of the interior elevator doors.” Michael paused just long enough for the words to sink in, but not giving the guard time to freak out. “I’d like to assess the issue, and in order to do that can you turn the attraction off while my group is inside?”

“Hooo boy,” Sophie replied, followed by a cacophony of crackles. Likely her hanging up before cursing to her presumed boss. After a second of hesitation, her voice clicked back onto the feed. “I'll meet you there, Mr. Afton. Over!”

She knew no one else would volunteer to help out the admins. Most of the staff hadn't even met any of the owners besides Sammy Emily before, so working around the hired family members would be a nightmare for most. Though, to be fair Sophie hadn’t exactly heard mention of these mysterious heirs before today either.

“Freddy?” Charlie said, giving the bear a gentle nudge. “You and Gregory should hang out of sight for a little. Sophie might ask why we're bringing you both into a work area…”

“Good point,” Freddy agreed, holding out a paw for Gregory to grasp. He gazed around the atrium, looking for a place close by but still out of the way. His eyes settled on one of the many brightly lit signs on the third floor and his smile widened. “Would you like to try a round of bowling, superstar?”

Michael followed Freddy’s sightline to Bonnie Bowl. It wouldn’t take long for Freddy and Gregory to sneak down to the hideout from there if necessary. Of course it’d be ideal if they could prevent Gregory from returning to one of the places that traumatized him the most this weekend.

The more Michael followed this train of thought, the more set on it he became.

“I think that’s a good option,” he chimed in before Gregory could respond, cracking a tiny smile. “Didn’t you say there was an arcade up there, Freddy? You guys can see if there’s a Princess Quest console while Charlie and I do our thing in Fazerblast. We’ll let you know if we need you, don’t worry—otherwise, we can just meet you in the bowling alley when we’re done.”

Gregory had always wanted to try out bowling. Even if they didn't get the chance to play a full game, it'd be fun to unwind and get to do something with just Freddy for a change. Unfortunately, Michael mentioning Princess Quest brought him back to the current reality. He'd have to worry about having fun some other time. Right now, Vanessa needed them to find the source of her mind control. Hopefully it meant defeating these badly coded video games.

“Let's go check it out!” Gregory said, a good attitude about it regardless. He pulled on the bear’s paw, as if he had the strength to sway where Freddy walked.

Freddy chuckled quietly at Gregory’s obvious excitement, playing into it by pretending like the boy was somehow able to tug the half-ton metal bear along as if he were nothing more than a stuffed toy. As he pitched forward slightly to give the impression of being knocked off-balance by Gregory’s sheer strength, Freddy spared a glance over his shoulder and waved to Michael and Charlie with his free hand.

“…Damn,” Michael murmured once Freddy and Gregory were out of earshot in a tone of wistfulness. “I know Freddy’s designed to be good with kids, but… he’s really good with Gregory.” He spared a glance at Charlie then, raising an eyebrow to match his subtle smirk. “Good thing we’ve got a new, Pizzaplex-escaping body waiting for him, huh?”

“It's almost like he was programmed to be a dad—I don’t think all of them would act like Freddy,” Charlie agreed. That bear was truly one of a kind.

Perhaps knowing the presence of a human soul had given Freddy some awareness. That was the theory that Charlie would stick with, at least. Michael's own feelings seemed to imprint deeply into whatever learning feature had been installed inside the newest rendition of Fazbear. The already protective and nurturing side of Freddy had been amped up, and the line between what came from Freddy’s original code and Mike’s supernatural influence was now thoroughly blurred

“I still can't believe how lucky last weekend’s been for us overall!” Charlie remarked further. The fact they had a chance of carrying out their plans and possibly putting William away for good had her expectations sky high.

It really was a shame. Bonnie used to be such a cool character, but Charlie couldn't look at that rabbit the same. Not after all the things she’d seen William do with that innocent guise. She kept her vision focused ahead now, walking besides Michael with purpose.

“If it turns out to be a trap—” Charlie murmured as she leaned into him. “—and it turns out your Dad's there… I'll get behind him, then you push him down the stairs.”

“Deal,” Mike agreed, flipping a hand palm-up so Charlie could give him a low-five. Lifting his hand higher, Michael watched his fist clench and unclench a few times. “I wonder how much strength we really have. I know your dad said it should match a normal animatronic’s, but—”

Michael’s musing was cut short when he spotted Sophie hurrying towards them at rapid speed.  Mike straightened his back and gave the guard a slight nod of acknowledgement.

To Sophie, the pair of them looked nothing short of professional. Ms. Emily, in Sophie's opinion, was nice. Eccentric, but nice nonetheless. Mr. Afton was… different. Still just as strange as Ms. Emily, but with a frighteningly flattened affect. Regardless, he treated Sophie with respect and she had no reason to hate either of them.

Yet that didn’t stop Sophie from growing very curious at their antics. The day guard waved to them, seeing that they’d gotten changed straight into more merchandise from one of the many store-outposts.

“Mr. Afton; Ms. Emily,” Sophie acknowledged once the two came to stand outside the attraction. She held the door for them both, offering them to walk inside the lift before her. “I just have to unlock the main breaker. Shouldn't take long. Honestly, I'm really glad you both want to work on this. Our mechanics suddenly found themselves swamped right now.”

“Oh?” Michael questioned, putting on a tone of detached interest. “Have you heard anything about the missing animatronics? Last time we spoke, you said some of the others weren’t responding to their manual call buttons.”

On one hand Michael hoped they’d stay missing, if only for the fact that the sooner they were found, the sooner the techs would start fixing them up again. After all the effort they’d gone through to decommission them, Mike didn’t want the Pizzaplex staff to unintentionally make the robots a threat again.

But that begged another, more pressing question: if no one knew where the Glamrocks had gone… then where the hell were they?

Even though Roxy had been ripped to pieces, Ennard left her limbs in plain sight. If someone peered down that newly-created hole in the track—which Michael suspected a bunch of staff were frantically trying to assess and repair this very moment—they’d surely catch sight of the dismembered wolf.

The thought that they could’ve somehow still gotten up on their own or been snatched away by William while Mike and his family recovered was enough to set Michael’s nerves on edge. He tried to keep the emotions contained, keeping up the illusion of cool confidence despite the hard set of his jaw as his teeth clenched together. Hopefully Sophie would take this as him simply being annoyed at the prospect of valuable company assets being MIA.

Sophie avoided Mr. Afton's gaze, attempting to fix her tie in a casual manner before answering. This only made her looked even more exacerbated than she did already.

“We, uh... technically found one of them. It wasn’t one we were exactly looking for right now, though,” Sophie told them cryptically. “And then right after they found him, it just disappeared again. So... We're working on that. It's a work in progress. Everyone seems to be more worried about the structural damage to the raceway.”

Sophie sighed, placing a hand on her hip and shaking her head with a look of utter confusion. “Plus all that carpet suddenly went missing from the East Arcade? I feel like things are kind of coming unraveled, sir, if I'm honest...”

It was becoming increasingly obvious to Michael and Charlie what was happening as Sophie left out details to protect them from what they assumed to be managerial anger.

“I wouldn't worry about things like the carpet,” Michael said after a moment. The more he could keep them away from anything to do with Ennard, the better. “There's clearly more important issues to focus on, like that damage to the raceway.” He narrowed his eyes, internally grateful for the topic to snag onto. “Thank god it's under renovation anyway... if something was able to break the tarmac that easily, it belies some serious safety concerns.”

Under Sammy's guidance, in many ways the Pizzaplex was a safer place than any previous Fazbear establishment—but there was always room for improvement. After a brief pause, Mike asked: “You said the animatronic staff found disappeared? Who, exactly, was that?”

He was almost positive he knew the identity, but if it suddenly vanished like the Glamrocks... Well, Michael didn't quite know what to do with that information.

Sophie seemed to be similar in Charlie, in that they wore their emotions on their sleeves quite easily. Taking on a more distressed demeanor Sophie chuckled, looking away. Despite her wide grin, she was uncomfortable thinking about it. Again it was always some damn rabbit causing trouble...

“Oh, just the uh... The decommissioned b... bunny,” Sophie replied, fighting with the last word to exit her mouth. “It was odd—my team found him and told me he needed to be fixed. Said he’d been missing for a while, but no one talked about it anymore. I just wanted to leave the stupid thing back in storage but... You know policy. Making sure the animatronics are accounted for, even when the active ones are bigger priority. Anyway—”

The lift doors began to slide back open and Sophie dawdled inside, searching for the employee terminal to access the attraction controls. “—he just up and hopped away, I guess.”

Sophie didn't really seem like the type to become annoyed fast, yet speaking about the rabbit made her sound bitter and afraid. Like Vanessa, almost.

Oh, that was much worse than Michael expected. His mouth had slowly fallen open as Sophie spoke, unable to keep his prideful Afton demeanor as she talked so blatantly about the man-turned-rabbit animatronic they were on a mission to destroy.

Of course it was William. It always had to be William.

Michael snapped his mouth shut with an audible click as the elevator doors opened, staring down at Sophie with a mixture of guilty relief. The staff that found Will had no idea how close they'd come to losing everything. Clearly he wanted to keep a low profile, hence his temporarily immobile state, but if he'd had other plans—

“We'll keep an eye out for the rabbit.” Michael spoke quickly, wanting to put the topic at rest but also try and avoid the staff actively chasing his psychotic father. “Just... tell the others not to worry about him. There's still a few animatronics awake and functioning to appropriate standards, right? No need to worry about ones that have already been taken out of the lineup.”

Not to mention how much detailing Bonnie still needed. Cracks all over his outer casing, covered in a thin layer of dirt like he’d been crawling around the basement.

“If you say so, sir.” Sophie tucked an errant curl behind her ear. “I just hope we can find everyone in time for opening. I know Mr. Emily wants the Glamrocks together by Monday... I don't know who's going to tell him it's just not possible.”

It was probably going to be her. The staff just loved to put the harder admin interactions on Sophie, given that she was head of security during the day. Approaching the terminal, she swiped her card into a reader at the desk which logged her in immediately.

“Don't worry about that, either. I'll tell Sammy everything,” Charlie reassured, placing a hand on Sophie’s shoulder and squeezing. “Just do us a favor and leave Bonnie alone. He was decommissioned for a good reason.”

Huh. It was normal to be scared of Mr. Afton, though now there was something in Ms. Emily's tone that Sophie just didn't trust.

“Uh... Is that why you both decided to come in this weekend?” Sophie asked, feeling her throat run dry as the pair stared at her. “I-I just didn't expect to meet you both under such stressful circumstances.”

“Mr. Emily just asked us to check in on some things,” Michael replied smoothly, having regained his composure after Charlie added her two cents. He certainly appreciated the backup, which he was sure she knew. Mike shook his head, letting out another sigh.

“Admittedly we were unaware of the depth of the problems around here, but... we are here to help.” He offered Sophie a rare, muted smile. “Try not to stress yourself out too much, alright? You've done as good a job as you can so far.”

Michael wished he could alleviate all her tension by telling her to go home and take the weekend off, for the woman was clearly losing her mind with every new incident. But unfortunately she was becoming invaluable to his group as well—even if she didn't know it. Still, Mike could at least take off a bit of immediate pressure. Clicking his tongue in annoyance, he muttered: “It's really the night guard I'd like to speak to—everything seems to happen on her shift...”

It was now time for an inopportune blush to spread across Sophie’s face at the genuine compliment to her work capabilities. Sophie didn't receive much praise, nor did she seek it out. This was probably why it affected her so much as she focused her gaze on the computer screen.

“I'm really worried about Vanessa, sir...” She wasn’t quite defending the position Ness had put everyone in over the weekend, but Sophie cared about the grumpy night guard in a detached, logical way. “I told her she should just stay home. Heal from her injuries, you know? She's still determined to fix everything from her shift.”

“We told her the same thing. Vanessa’s given us all the run-around,” Charlie interjected. It wasn't Sophie's fault that Vanessa wanted to stay another night. “It is what it is at this point; if she wants to stay, so be it.”

As Charlie spoke, Sophie's expression grew from concern to annoyance.

“Guh...” She groaned, squinting at the screen. “The console has a password on it... Might be logged up in the security office? I can control the doors without it, but not much else.”

“Char—Ms. Emily and I will go,” Michael said quickly, shooting Charlie a look. He realized they didn't have Gregory's handy stash of access badges, but hopefully they wouldn't need one—and if they did, hopefully Sophie would readily offer hers. Looking to said guard, Michael told her: “We'll be back shortly. Walkie us if you manage to figure out the password or if anything happens, alright?”

He probably didn't need to include that last part, for surely it just added to everyone's paranoia. Without giving Sophie a chance to protest, Mike walked out of the room and gestured for Charlie to follow behind.

The day guard couldn't place the odd feeling she got around the two of them. Sophie wanted to offer them her assistance, thought simultaneously just wanted to be rid of them.

“Uh—of course, sir,” Sophie relented, watching as Samuel’s apparent daughter followed Mr. Afton obediently through the maze and towards the security tower steps.

Charlie's fear for Sophie’s safety was growing now. William knew people were looking for him, and he didn't think twice about killing children. Why not random adults, too?

At least Sophie was immediately and quite vocally perturbed by the Glam-rabbit. Charlie couldn't imagine her willingly going near Bonnie and disobeying their direct orders to leave William alone.

“Let's hurry. I don't have a great feeling about this, Michael...,” Charlie whispered, sticking close to him as she felt bad about leaving the day guard by herself within the belly of William's lair.

“You're telling me...,” Michael muttered, though his snapping tone wasn't meant for Charlie. He hated leaving Sophie alone just as much as she did, though if Ennard claimed the hideout was empty during the day, he reasoned the guard was relatively safe.

Michael absently looked around, in his steadily-increasing worry almost considering asking the amalgamation to keep an eye on poor, innocent Sophie—although Mike quickly scrapped that idea for many reasons. Besides, even if he did want to talk to Ennard, the ceilings and walls were far too high; he'd have to shout to be heard in the vents, and that would certainly not be a good look for his sanity.

Soon enough, the pair were at the door to the security office at the top of the tower. Michael peered inside, though it was pretty dark and hard to make out most things. He thought he could see a small cot in the corner, as well as a standard security desk, chair, and monitors, and—

“No way,” he breathed, pressing his hands to the glass as he fixated on the glowing screen of an arcade console in the middle of the room. The title “Princess Quest III” was emblazoned on the top, shining like a beacon of hope that cut through Michael and Charlie's bleak mood.

Charlie nudged Michael's shoulder, pushing him slightly as she pointed to the box with her other hand. “It was here this whole time!”

Right under their noses, here sat the final installment of William's glitched game. Just like last time, as they approached the arcade box a credit blinked onto the screen. It beckoned them to play it, calling their names with silent persuasion. If they could win this game, Vanessa may be saved yet.

“Come on—let's beat this thing fast. Sophie won't like knowing we’re up here playing video games,” Charlie remarked, pulling Michael by the arm to start the session of Princess Quest.

Michael didn't bother verbally responding, instead placing his hands on the control panel and starting the game. Thank god he'd watched Gregory play the first two, because this one was even worse than the others—both in terms of difficulty and glitches. Though the console acted like it wanted them to play, Michael was having a hell of a time getting the titular Princess out of danger. He wished Gregory was here with them, as Michael had to begrudgingly admit that the kid was more skilled than him at this particular game series. Steeling himself, Mike narrowed his area of focus to the little square screen in front of him. He wasn't going to stop until he won—no matter how long it took.

***

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Looking for more? Check out the Chapter Masterlist on Tumblr!

Or check out the entire Wires that Bind Us Series on ao3!

[thessalian]

Faerun!Alisaie vs Familiars

Astarion: Explain to me why you're taking me down here. This is not the kind of killing I like. It's too ... dry.

Alisaie: I take you along on a looting raid, effectively breaking and entering, and this is the thanks I get.

Astarion: I mean, fair enough, but this is a small-town herbalist--

Gale: A small town herbalist ... with ... a bunch of corpses in the basement, Astarion.

Alisaie: And a whole lot of documentation about powerful bullshit. You like powerful bullshit.

Astarion: ...Oh, fine. But there'd better be something for me to lockpick or I am going to be very annoyed.

Gale: I'm sure there'll be-- Alisaie, what are you doing?

Alisaie: Trying to figure out what this scroll is and why it's in a coffin with a really shitty shovel, a knife that's an open invitation to infection, a rock, some alchemist's fire and ... a ... skull someone painted up like a porcelain doll?

Astarion: You know, I call this particular group a bunch of weirdos on a regular basis, but this? This puts us to shame, weirdness-wise.

Alisaie: Welp, here goes. *reads from scroll*

Shovel: *appears*

Shadowheart; Astarion: Whaaaaaaaat the fuuuuuuuuuuuck?

Gale; Alisaie: A quasit? SERIOUSLY?!?

Shovel: So you're Shovel's new master? Are you going to remember to feed me?!?

Alisaie: ...If only to keep you from eating Scratch's food, yes?

Shovel: Good! Then if you're horny for the book like my old master? You go talk to the mirror. And pack burn salve.

Astarion: Fire traps? Been awhile since I've seen those.

Alisaie: Thanks, Shovel, but I don't think we'll need it. *steps up to the mirror* HEY. OPEN UP OR I WILL SMASH THE LIVING SHIT OUT OF YOU.

Mirror: But ... the curse... Seven years bad lu--

Alisaie: Given my current situation, it's already happening so I don't give a shit.

Mirror: *quietly vanishes*

Shovel: Aww. No burning time.

Astarion: Ah, but it's lovely when she gets threatening.

Alisaie: Right. Okay. Shadowheart, want to bring Wyll down here? He's our expert on Dark Magic Shit We Should Not Touch.

Astarion: These traps are weak sauce!

Shovel: Illy figured hiding the doors, the burning time and the friends would keep people out! Illy couldn't do locks worth shit!

Gale: I suppose that's fair. Not that Arcane Lock isn't a wonderful spell, but--

Alisaie: Creepy book.

Astarion: Gimme?

Alisaie: ...It's not like you can open it anyway.

Astarion: ...Boo.

Alisaie: Look, we'll make camp once we're out of here and get some rest. And some food. You look a bit peaky. ...More than usual, I mean.

And, of course, later that night...

Alisaie: *wakes up*

Astarion: *is hovering over her*

Alisaie: So either you reeeeeeeally want that book, or you're finally admitting you're a vampire.

Astarion: I am not a vampire! ...I am a vampire spawn. There is a difference. And I'm too weak to hunt right now, so I thought a little nibble might at least get me to a point where I could stalk a boar or something.

Alisaie: And the fact that I'm an aasimar and you have no idea what drinking my blood would do to you never crossed your mind?

Astarion: Honestly, it was risk assessment. Karlach would probably be alright with it but then my face would be on fire, which entirely defeats the purpose, wouldn't you say? As for the others, they simply wouldn't stand for it, and they all would likely kill me soon as look at me if I tried.

Alisaie: There's a spectrum there, with Lae'zel at one end and ... ironically probably Gale on the other, because he's just a different kind of vampire if you think about it, but yeah. And yet you think I wouldn't?

Astarion: Well ... I did guess you wouldn't immediately attack me, and I was right about that, so...

Alisaie: *sigh* Fine, but a) it is only a nibble, b) you will restrain yourself to feeding on enemies from here on in, and c) if you get a belly full of radiant energy, it's on you.

Astarion: ...What, really? Gods, you are too good for this world.

Alisaie: I expect you to not give me dirty looks next time I'm altruistic in your presence, okay?

Astarion: ...Fiiiine. I suppose it benefits me as well, the altruism. Now. Hold still. *NYARMF*

The next morning

Shadowheart: You look terrible. Here; I learned a new trick. *Lesser Restoration*

Alisaie: Thank you; that is so much better. Hey, guys? Just to flag up? He finally fessed up.

Rest of the party: *various noises indicating 'it's about time'*

Astarion: ...Did everyone know?

Alisaie: White hair, red eyes, two scars from puncture wounds on your neck, and the fangs, Astarion. We are not blind.

Astarion: But ... I walk in the sun! I cross running water! I--

Alisaie: Have a tadpole in your brain which changes the rules. Now, anything else anyone wants a chat about?

Astarion: Can I just state for the record that you taste amazing?

Alisaie: No, but since you just did, not like I can stop you.

Astarion: *grin*

Karlach: Why is there a fucking quasit hanging around my tent?

Alisaie: Oh, that's Shovel. He has a foul mouth and a nasty sense of humour. And I think he's my familiar now. Why he's hanging out with you, I have no idea.

Karlach: Eh, demons always wanted out of the Lower Planes and into the Nine Hells. This is as close as this jackass is going to get.

Shovel: No, Shovel likes you because you left! Hell is weaker without you! Yay!

Karlach: Is this little bugger going to do anything useful?

Awhile later, in the Whispering Depths

Shovel: *gets the killing blow on the Phase Spider Matriarch*

Karlach: ...............

Alisaie: That useful enough for you?

Karlach: All right, fine. ...But I wanted to kill it.

Shovel: NYAH!

[musekicker]

A drabble to do with Hermes trying some new clothes on.

Hermes never had thought himself much of a fashion guy. For so long when it came to clothes it mostly came down to what was given to him. And when he was able to make his own fashion choices it was always something more durable, easy to move in, or useful.

Survival was the key to his fashion for so long. He never once really thought about what the clothes looked like and how he felt about how they looked on him. So he was feeling completely out of his element at the clothes section of the store that he and the team were currently walking through.

The whole thing had started as a observation that Hermes did not have that much differences in any pieces of clothing he did own. He clearly had more clothes as he wasn't washing his clothes every day. But still normally he would be seen in a red vest shirt and black pants.

Hermes had tried to claim it was a signature look. And it might had been left to that if Hermes did not recall that his therapist had suggested trying something new. Food, experiences, or in this case clothes. Now because of that, here they were.

Hermes was glancing around at the various racks and racks of clothing. He felt the sleeve of a black shirt studded with dark red rivets on the shoulder as they passed by it. Not looking at all convinced about the purpose of this trip.

"I'm not sure we really need to find me a new look." Hermes said.

"Don't think of it as finding you a new look as much as experimenting with your look." Gibson said.

Otto poked his head out through the clothing on the rack that Hermes had been looking at. Only slightly startling Hermes. Thankfully not enough to the point where he found himself reacting or falling into a fight stance. He was getting better at not doing that.

"There's a lot of styles to experiment with too." Otto said.

Hermes hummed a bit, thinking. He knew full well why they had been coming to this store. But still it felt like he was being put on the spot to choose. Nova could see the look in Hermes eyes that was followed by freezing and not saying much. She reached a comforting hand and lightly gripped Hermes hand.

"We can take this as slow as you want." Nova said.

Hermes smiled softly at the gesture.

"I.. wanted to do this, And it's not like I need to completely change my style or buy a lot of different clothes. My therapist suggested one thing. Even if it's just a new belt." Hermes said.

"Do you want a belt?" Otto asked, climbing out from the middle of the clothes rack.

Hermes shook his head.

"I don't think I want a belt. Don't know what I want just yet but I know it's not a belt." Hermes said.

"Then we have some looking to do." Sprx said.

It was when they reached the jacket section that Hermes knew what he wanted to look closer at. The jacket section had a good selection. Jackets in many styles, lengths, and colors. That alone could be over whelming. Finding the type of clothing he was looking for did help the stress though. Now he could possibly apply rules to what he wanted to seek out.

Color of the jacket was one thing. His favorite color was red, and looking for a jacket in a red hue cut out all the other colors. Making less choices. It turned out to help as not long after he found the jacket for him.

The jacket of course was a red thing, long and with many pockets. Red was a color that Hermes liked but it was not the thing about the jacket that Hermes cared about the most. It was more the pockets that interested him.

The pockets were deep, looking like they could carry a lot of little things. And Hermes did like being able to carry things on his person. Something else that had stuck with him since his days trapped in the games galaxy. There is had been wise to keep all that he did own close to himself. Granted that had been very little but even more reason for keeping what he owned close to him. He still liked to keep as many things on his person as he could.

He slid the jacket off of it's hanger.

"I'm going to go try this on." Hermes said.

Hermes wasn't undressing so he didn't need to go to a dressing room. He did move behind the rack to put the jacket on though. For the drama of the reveal of course.

"What do you guys think?" Hermes asked as he stepped out.

"I think it works great for you." Nova said.

"Red's your color." Sprx agreed.

Mirrors were lined on the wall, allowing Hermes to take a look at himself in the jacket. Sprx was right that this was his color. And it did look good. What was the most important thing of course was that Hermes liked it.

"I like it too." Hermes said.

He was still looking at his reflection when Otto spoke up.

"Oh you got to try this look too!"Otto said.

Otto was holding up a shirt. A shirt that was a clash of various patterns that suggested the shirt was tropical minded. The shapes were white and the shirt itself was red.

"That is the most garish and harsh on the eyes shirt I have ever seen." Gibson said.

"I kind of love it." Hermes said.

Gibson just sighed. Clearly he was out numbered when it came to the opinion on how the shirt looked. And he was not about to try to really talk Hermes out of something he thought looked nice.

Hermes took the shirt from Otto and went to try the shirt on. It didn't take him long to get it on and soon enough Hermes came out with the new shirt on he held out his arms.

"And what do you all thinks about this shirt, gang?" Hermes asked.

"You look more at ease in that shirt." Sprx noted.

Hermes had to look in a mirror and think about it a moment before he nodded in agreement.

"I do kind of feel more at ease." Hermes said. "It has a sort of relaxed feeling to it. And I do enjoy the style. More... fun."

As Hermes continued to look at himself in the mirror, Otto was still looking at the same rack that the shirt Hermes now wore came from. He seemingly had found another one of the same shirts that Hermes was wearing now. Except this one had a purple shade of color to it and had a pattern with bigger white leaves then Hermes shirt.

"I think you could carry the look too, Antauri." Otto said.

Antauri looked at the shirt.

"It's a different look then I usually go for." Antauri said.

"Hermes is trying something new. Maybe it wouldn't hurt if you tried something new too." Nova said.

"I suppose it's only fair to try it." Antauri said.

"Yeah! Go for it!" Chiro said.

"Wear the shirt! Wear the shirt-" everyone else chanted.

The chanting grew louder in volume and could not be ignored even if Antauri truly wanted to ignore it. And he truly didn't. he couldn't hide the small smile on his muzzle.

"Very well. If you all insist." Antauri said.

Everyone cheered. At this point the group had the attention of many of the other customers in the store. Gibson looked a bit sheepish at the realization that maybe they were being a bit too loud. But it was far too late to stop the chanting.

Like Hermes Antauri stepped behind the clothes rack. And putting on the shirt was as quick as it had been for Hermes. Then he stepped out.

"Love that look for you." Otto said.

Hermes was leaning against the wall as Antauri came out from between the clothes racks. And he couldn't help but smile fondly at this scene. Both of them had tried something new and were both enjoying it. A good moment for the both of them really.

"Now the question is who wore it better." Sprx said.

"Now come on, let's not make this a contest." Hermes said. "Though if you were to ask me it would be me."

Antauri couldn't help but let out a small laugh. A soft moment for the more stoic of the team.

"Gibson... I found one in your color too." Otto said, holding up yet another one of the busy shirts.

"Stars, how many varieties of these are there!?" Gibson cried. "And before you even say another word, the answer is NO Otto. If Hermes and Antauri want to wear them and it makes them happy that's well and good. But I refuse to wear that hideous thing."

Gibson ended up wearing and buying the shirt not much time later.

[catsnuggler]

It's strange how I'm strong in some ways, but weak in others.

I generally avoid substances, and those I take, I take in controlled doses. I'm not an alcoholic, I have drinks on occasion - maybe 3 in a single night, at the very most, but usually only 1 or 2 drinks a night when I have drinks, which is maybe a few days out of an entire month. And these are light drinks, usually, like beer, or hard lemonade. I usually have food beforehand, too.

I used to be on Adderall. The highest dose, actually, eventually. I took it as prescribed, and no more. I decided to stop, partially because production was getting fucked, anyway, but also because it was keeping me up at night by raising my body temperature absurdly, making me sweat; yet I couldn't sleep if I didn't have a blanket, still can't, because my body wants some kind of comfort around it, something soft to make me feel "safe" enough to sleep. Adderall, as y'all might know, is chemically very similar to methamphetamine. In fact, anyone who's ever had meth can't take Adderall, because it drives them right back to addiction. So, the fact I just walked away from Adderall, no intervention, just out of my own free will, says I'm pretty resistant to substance abuse. Not totally, of course - there's surely something out there that would hook me if I took it, which is why I don't go out looking for anything to do - but I'm generally pretty resistant.

Despite what pot users say about it being non-addictive, it sometimes is. It's far from the worst drug - it's often pretty great - and it's certainly one of the least addictive. But it can be. No hate, just saying is all. I've had it less than 10 times in my life. Wouldn't mind using it occasionally, if I had or was getting into a job that wouldn't disqualify me if I had the occasional pot, but since so many do, I figure it's a risk I'd rather not take.

I've smoked before. Once. The only reason was that I was out drinking with someone close to me, and she had gotten plastered, and some guy started putting the moves on her. I asked if I could go out with them to smoke, even though I wasn't and am not a smoker, only because I wanted to keep my eyes on those two, and make sure she wasn't going to get swindled or anything by the guy. So, the cigarette was passed around, I took a puff, I passed it on, but after that night (where she wasn't messed with, but gosh was she sick from drinking too much), I never smoked a cigarette again. I didn't smoke even a single full cigarette that night, and I haven't put one in my lips since.

So. Substance-wise, I'm resilient. I say no, or I partake of a select few occasionally, and carefully.

That said, I often succumb to hopelessness, to anxiety, and to feeling like my very existence is "in the way" of others. I often get in my father's physical way in his house. Given he's fat (not hating, just stating), that isn't hard. He has a lot of struggles with his own body, and I feel for him, I really do - but when I happen to get in his way, he gets so fucking mad, you wouldn't even believe. He'll sometimes tell me I'm useless, ask what I'm good for - fuck, it's awful. I also feel I'm in the way on a societal level. I'm not rich, but I'm a white guy. I haven't had very much luck getting jobs, honestly, but I was afraid years ago, when I first started looking in 2018, that I might get a job because I'm a white guy, that I didn't immediately need, while some mother of color might need the income a lot more. I felt guilty when I briefly had a job in 2018, which stacked on top of my other job anxieties and frustrations. I still, even as I live with an unemployed father who depends on his inheritance, even as we would be homeless without that inheritance, even as we both need to get jobs ASAP so we won't be fucked when his inheritance runs out - I still fear that I might get a job that someone more disadvantaged than me needs more. That, even as a poor person who needs to secure some kind of income to maintain my existence, I would be maintaining injustice, by prioritizing the life of a white, able-bodied colonizer man (myself) over someone else. Sure, it's the colonial capitalists that are running things, I don't have power over the system as an individual, but... I dunno, I just feel like my very existence is in the way of others.

I also fear that I'll let my partner down. Their biological father, that scum of a human being, is a blue-eyed white with light brown hair. I'm a blue-eyed white man with light brown hair. Their maternal line has a long history of tragedy regarding how the men treated the women, as well as a history of being colonized - though by the Mexican government, incidentally, not the American government.

After every breakup, there's been some point, after being totally rejected, told we won't talk ever again, where I've hyperventilated to the point I nearly lost consciousness. That's also happened to me on at least one occasion when my father was saying something to me, I forget what it was, but it was something incredibly emotionally distressing to me, I think it was something alone the lines of him completely and utterly rejecting some group of people I care about, going on some tirade about them. Or maybe he was going directly after me and who I am. I don't know, I don't remember, I only remember that hewas only infuriated when I begged him to let me lay on the ground and stop yelling at me until I caught my breath, because I really was becoming lightheaded, starting to lose consciousness, yet he refused me, thought I was putting on an act, which was why he was so enraged by how lightheaded I was acting...because I was genuinely lightheaded.

There are so many things I don't know what to do anything about. At least I'm resistant to substance abuse, I guess.

[onlyfishcansaveusnow]

3/18/2024 Fisheries Oceanography

Right so I dont know whats going on at any given moment in this class and I 100% didn't do the readings.... which is and might be more problematic than I want but alas; me versus scientific journals is a battle i will never win especially if the journal is 33 god forsaken pages. But I digress. does this have a character limit?

Welcome to the shit show! today we are going to go over some larger scale processes (woot woot I still don't understand the smaller scale processes but whatever). First we get to diccus the shit show that was exam 1 (i did get an email that i have the opportunity to improve my grade because I did just that bad..) i swear to god if I'm the only one in person today I'm going to riot. fuck. anyway. week 10... great. exam 2 is the last five week of the semester ew. its going to be the same format as exam 1 *joy joy*. the final is going to be closed book my hope are so high:) lol i had the lower end of the undergrad reage at a whopping 80.7%.... bruh grammar and capitalization is a bitch and apparently you get docked points (which is so fair im just salty). we have to add fcking titals now gross. this is an essay prompt i didn't realize we needed to get all up and fancy with this jesus christ. WHAT THE FUCK IS THE FISH OCE REF STYLE!!! "its pretty standard" - clearly not can you give a spark notes of what the fuck that is. like a break down of thestlye you want/??? SUBSECTIONS?! this was suppost to be a one page single spaces how am i suppost to add subsections?! add quanitative detalis? how when the questions suggest otherwise. *do you know how much this makes me want to die? jesus christ i didnt realize this was going to be so nitpicky of an exam* do we now get to get on with todays material - no not yet we get to diccus the final AH 20% of my grade...

TODAY'S FOCUS - large scale processes, circulation and ocean basins! *oh yay a shorter lecture*

Thermohaline circulation. do we know what this is KINDA. so what it is is a large global scale circulating where surface waters becomes denser than underlying wates and sink creatin vertical circulation in the ocean. this is often wind driven circulation. DEEP open ocean convection tis the cacess by which vigoro's vertical mixing occus down tot great depth in respond to winter time surface buoyancy losses in the sub polar seas, is a significant mechanic of water masses - the densent water are forms at high latitudes ( north Atlantic and southern ocean.) (rip spellcheck) OOO thats a realy nice visual of the thromohailice circulation!!!! we have to get our gruminy hands on that link it would be so helpful ( UCAR- center for science eduction). we also need to get our hand oth figh 8.11 because that would also help be in chem ocn!!

Wind driven circulation - what is is? well dumbass... um. are you familare with the major gyres in N+S patlatnic and Pacific? WELL GUESS WHAT they are driven by global wind whis are dieven by inequalities in the solar enegy flux between the equatior and the poles. * fuck oh joy joy something confusing* ~ in both atl. and pacf. basins sub topic gyers(circulate anti cyclonic ( do you know aht the even means? and clock wise in .. *OH MY GOD I WANST DONE GAH GO BACK fuck it* ) still on the same topics western margins of thes gyer had particualy intence currents ( gulf stream and kuroshi current are sub tropic) Labrador current and oyashio current ( are sub POLAR). did you know that organisms in these can be transported long distances!western boundary currents meander and can cause eddies which are conveniently important feature for entertaining(?) food for consumers *there was a whole text box that she blew threw no wonder i can't keep up in this class*

WOW the major flow of the water in the atlanic is in a clockwise direction. the circulation in the north atlatin is linked to artic circulation and what happens up north.... something something about different something.

The fuck is a jumpdrive? you mean a USB flash drive? please sent help. also let me reiterate - I didn't read todays papers. i am s c r e w e d but whats new. now we get to the prestation on the review paper... which is 33 pages. damn her prestation is so good. ok i dont knwo whats going on. rip my participation points oh well. maybe ill ask about the citation format when we are done and gain something.

Questions to gain participation points: explain the citation system. can we go into depth of anticyclonic vs cyclonic gyres and what that means/impacts?

I didn't realize i would have to write my citations by hand because its a super specific citation system that is a mash of APA and MLA and whatever the fuck else fish ocn peeps deem acceptable.

[dravid-writes]

Walking back home after a successful mission, the fog is even thicker than when I left. If I didn't know these paths so well, I'd be worried about getting lost. That's been pretty common lately, and while it's given me lots of jobs, it also makes those jobs harder. But there are other things to worry about. Like nearly tripping over someone lying down in the middle of the path!

"W-whoa! Hey, what's the deal?.. Hello?" I poke at the stranger; up close, I see they're a rowlet.

The rowlet stirs at my poking, and sits up. "Mmm… Hm? Hello."

"… Uh, hi. What are you doing lying on the ground out here? Not the best place for a nap."

The rowlet looks around, though they can't see much thanks to the fog. "I don't know."

I sigh. "Come on, the town is this way. We should get out of the fog."

"… But I want to stay in the fog."

"What in the… Are you stupid!? There's fog monsters out here! Did you hit your head or something?"

"… Maybe…"

"…"

"… Where am I?"

As it turned out, Rowlet has amnesia. Pretty bad amnesia. They didn't even remember how to fly, though they relearned it pretty quick. With no family in town, and nowhere to go, it was a convenient opportunity for me to snag a partner for my rescue mission work.

A tepig and a rowlet, we cover each other's weaknesses rather nicely, and they've got a talent for navigating in the fog. I burn away the fog creatures while Rowlet finds lost travelers and missing items. Thanks to them, I complete way more missions, and since they also do their fair share of chores around the house, I'm happy to split the pay and let them stay over. Even if they're really weird.

One day, after picking up groceries, I come back to find them frying up some eggs and bacon. At 3pm. And no, they didn't just wake up late and this is their breakfast; despite being a literal owl, they wake up early in the morning. Yesterday I woke up to find them staring out the window at the fog. They just can't get enough of it…

I start loading the groceries into the pantry, when Rowlet says "Tepig, you like having eggs with lots of pepper, right?"

"Huh? Yeah, why?"

"Because I'm making eggs for you."

"What?" I turn and watch Rowlet sprinkle pepper into the frying pan, while an already-made plate of eggs and cheese sits on the counter. "Um… You know that's not part of chores, right? You can just make food for yourself, we don't have to cook for each other."

"I know."

"… So? Why are you making me eggs?"

"Because you haven't had lunch yet." Rowlet turns off the stove and slides the eggs onto a plate, then sits down with their own plate of eggs and cheese.

"Okay wise guy, seriously, what do you want? Did you break a vase or something?"

Rowlet raises an eyebrow in confusion, a rare moment of expression from them. "No. I wanted you to not be hungry."

"… Whyyyyy?"

"Because I like you."

… Rowlet is SO weird.

Rowlet and I have been a team for a few weeks now, and as people have seen us together, a few have mentioned how stoic and emotionless Rowlet seems. They're not. They might not express it much, if at all, but the more time I spend with them, the easier I notice when they like or dislike something, how they act when they're happy, or scared… or upset.

This town isn't a very friendly place, even less so now with this everlasting fog, and people… Well, I've long since grown thick skin and gotten numb to all the things they say. Rowlet hasn't. And after going to bed early yesterday, they've been in their room for the whole morning. I can't stand seeing them like this, or rather NOT seeing them I guess, so with a deep breath, I open the door and step into their room.

They jolt up at the sound of the door opening, then their head drifts back down. They're sitting on their bed. It doesn't look like they've moved all morning.

I take a seat beside them. "Hey. You still worrying about what Kadabra said?"

"Yes."

"Here." I pass them a bar of chocolate, the kind I've seen them buying a few times. "That's your favorite, right?"

"Yes." They tear away the wrapper and start eating, bite by bite.

"… Does it… help you feel a little better?"

"… A little bit."

"Forget about Kadabra. Jerks like them aren't worth the time it takes to tell them to buzz off. They don't know what they're talking about."

"But they're right. I'm weird. I don't fit in. I don't belong here."

"Come on, that's complete baloney."

"… I don't think it is."

Shoot, I'm bad at this. Well, Rowlet always does like to tell it how it is… "Okay, sure, you're different. Weird. Maybe even a 'freak', if you wanna use scary words. But how does that mean you don't belong here? The lettuce in our pantry doesn't fit in with the bread or crackers, but that doesn't mean we're gonna throw it out. You belong here just as much as anyone. I bet that psychic jerk would be singing a different tune if they were out lost in the fog without your skills to guide them back to town."

Rowlet's head sinks lower. That's good, they're thinking more. Either that, or the lettuce metaphor confused them. I wait by their side, until they've finally finished their chocolate bar.

"I think I've got another jigsaw puzzle buried in the closet. Wanna do it together?"

An eyebrow raise. "You said you didn't like puzzles."

"Well yeah, but I like you." Wait what? Why did I say that!? I didn't mean to say that!!

"… I'd like to do a puzzle with you."

And so, 10 minutes later, I'm sitting over a thousand pieces of cardboard, bored out of my mind. Hooves and puzzle pieces don't mix well, and with the fog interfering with evolution, I'm stuck with a bunch of worthless-

"I thought about what you said before. I feel better now."

"Oh. Uh, I'm relieved to hear that… Do you still want to keep doing the puzzle?"

"Yes."

Well, it'd be mean to bail on them now. But watching their pace suddenly pick up, their eyes darting around the table as they focus, it makes me happy to see my teammate back in a good mood. "Hey, uh, I don't know much about fitting in, or belonging, but… For what it's worth, I want you to stay."

"I want to stay with you, too."

This mission is different. Word got out about Rowlet's navigation skills, and we received a special request to investigate this mountain; it became foggy before anywhere else, and even on those rare days when the fog lifts, this place always remains cloaked in an impenetrable cloud of fog. Even expert exploration teams have gotten lost in there, returning days later with nothing to show for it, if they return at all. Normally, no amount of money could convince me to go somewhere like that, but I trust Rowlet's senses.

And I feel like I'm right to do so when Rowlet returns from another scouting flight. "The summit is close. There's lots of fog creatures, and many are large."

"Yeah, I had to fight off three of them just waiting here. There's way more on this mountain, and not just because the fog is so thick. Think this place might be the source of it after all?"

"… Maybe. I think there must be something important at the summit."

I nod. "Lead the way."

We start to walk, but the fog before us suddenly swirls and gathers into the form of a creature. But this one is different from the others; for one, its form doesn't look nearly as solid as the others. Normally you can touch and even punch or tackle a fog creature, and they can do the same to you, but this one is more loose, barely holding a vague shape. For two, other fog creatures don't talk. "Stop."

We're so surprised by the strange creature that we've already stopped, staring.

"You. Why have you taken that form? Why do you stand with a pokemon?"

Rowlet and I exchange glances, both of us equally confused. "What are you talking about?"

"I was not speaking to you, pokemon." A foggy limb reaches toward me, and before I can react, it turns solid and strikes me, knocking me back!

Rowlet flaps over, making sure I'm alright before standing between me and the creature.

"You defend them. Why? Why do you side against your kin?"

"… Are you speaking to me? I'm a rowlet."

"I understand now. You have become lost. Your senses have dulled. I will help you." A wave of fog rolls toward us, so thick it may as well be smoke. Rowlet flinches… but doesn't move. The fog swallows them whole, and then stops.

"Rowlet!" I start toward the cloud, but hesitate; what if that fog is dangerous? Instead, I shoot a flamethrower at the creature!

The fire makes the fog creature dissipate, but the voice calls out from all around. "You do not belong here, pokemon. Leave."

"Not without my partner! What are you doing to them!?"

"I am helping them learn what they are. Helping them shed their crude body."

Is that fog killing them!? I need to get them out of there! I run toward the cloud and jump through it, reaching out my arms for Rowlet! I catch something, and when I come out the other side, Rowlet is- fading away?! Their body, it's turning into fog, their eyes staring into nothingness.

"You cannot stop them from remembering now. They already know what they are. They know to take their rightful-" The voice suddenly stops, as Rowlet's body stops fading.

The fog suddenly flows back toward their body, reforming into flesh and feathers. When they're fully restored, they blink and gasp for air, their eyes darting around.

"Rowlet! Are you okay? Do you need an oran berry? What HAPPENED in there?!"

"I…" Their breathing gradually calms, and their eyes drift downward in thought. "… I'm fog. I'm a fog creature…"

"What..?"

The voice speaks again. "You understand now. Why do you still cling to a pokemon's body?.. It does not matter. The era of fog is coming. Soon, you will return to your true form, and you will join us."

I try my best to ignore what this thing is saying about Rowlet. "What do you mean the era of fog is 'coming'? It's been foggy for five years!"

"This is only preparation. When we create our world, we will flourish. Pokemon will have no place there."

"What in the world..?"

Rowlet speaks up. "Tepig, this place isn't safe for you. We should leave."

"O-okay, yeah, let's go."

The creature remains silent and makes no move to stop us. I follow Rowlet down the mountain as they effortlessly retrace our steps, navigating perfectly through the thick fog.

When we return, we report what we learned from that creature, leaving out what happened to Rowlet.

Finally back home, we eat dinner in silence.

"… So, Rowlet… What you said back there… You're a…"

"I'm a fog creature. Not one like the beasts we fight, but like that one we spoke with. When I was… born, something must have gone wrong, and I accidentally took the form of a rowlet. Then you found me."

"I… see… What exactly happened in there? In that cloud?"

They think for a long time. "I could feel the fog all around me, like a fish in water. I could feel that other fog creature's presence. I perceived them more clearly than when I see a pokemon's face. Then my body started to disappear, and I felt weightless. I was in the fog, and I was part of it… I liked it."

"You did?" I remember their gasping, their eyes darting around. They looked desperate, struggling. "Then what happened? Why did you… undo it?"

"Because I like you more. I like my life as a pokemon. I want to stay with you."

My tension vanishes, and I smile at my partner. "I want you to stay, too."

Over the past month, we've learned more than ever before about the fog. More of the intelligent fog-born appeared (Rowlet and I suggested calling them that, since calling Rowlet a 'creature' felt wrong), and days of especially thick fog became more common. The fog-born had a plan, and if they weren't stopped, it would be the end of life as we knew it. And with our vision getting more obscured by the day, Rowlet was our only hope.

And we did it. We learned their plan, tracked down the source of the past five years of fog, and made our way up into the sky to a fortress of solid clouds. At the final battle, I throw flame after flame at the thing I can't see, dodging in time with Rowlet's warning shouts as fog-beasts and fog-born try to stop me.

The fog starts swirling, slow at first, but soon it picks up speed, blowing against me with enough force that I have to put all my effort into staying on the ground. But the wind gets faster, until-

FWOOOSH!!

A gust of wind clears the fog, and I see Rowlet panting with effort; they learned that they could control fog, and by now, they've nearly mastered their power. In the clear air, I see our target: A glowing sphere of energy, rapidly refilling the thick cloud around itself. The fog heart. In the moment that I can still see it, I sprint forward, bursting with flame, and smash through the heart!

I hear something crack, and a blast of wind throws me backward. The sound of wind is overwhelming, and fog rushes past, blocking my vision completely…

Then everything goes silent.

The air is still.

And then, for the first time in weeks, the sun shines down on us. Which is especially surprising because I thought this cloud castle has a ceiling. I look up and, well, it HAD a ceiling. The fog-born retreat lower into the castle, while the fog-beasts evaporate in the midday sunlight. The fog is lifting.

"… We did it! Rowlet, we did- AAAAHHHH!!" So, it turns out that the sun burned through the floor just as fast as it did the ceiling, and now I'm plummeting toward the ground from like a million feet up. Oops. It's not a big deal, though; Rowlet was able to carry me up here from a mountaintop, and sure enough, they fly down to meet me midair. "Rowlet!" I shout over the wind rushing past me. "We did it! We won!"

Rowlet nods. "Yes. I'm very glad you're safe now, Tepig… I have something I need to tell you. Did you see what happened to those fog-beasts?"

"Huh? Yeah, they… Wait. No… No, you can't disappear! Won't you be fine since you have a solid body? And- And what about those clear days we had? You were fine then!"

"My body won't last. I was safe during clear days thanks to the fog heart's influence, but now, I feel like my body will only last for a few minutes."

"Th-then there's still time! That mountain, it was where fog-born lived before building the heart, right? It's close enough, you could make it!"

"But then who will carry you down?"

I look at the ground. It'll be a long fall. Too long to both save me and fly to the mountain. "But… I… No! You can't! You can't disappear! You're the first person in YEARS that I've actually cared about! You're the first person to care about me. You're my partner, you're my friend, you can't just- I want you to stay!!"

"I want to stay with you, too. I want that more than anything…"

"No… No!!" Tears blur my vision no matter how much I try to blink them away. Rowlet embraces me with their wings, and I close my eyes and hug them in return. I can't stop sobbing, and everything feels so fuzzy that I don't even notice when Rowlet breaks the hug and starts carrying me. I just feel the wind slowing down as they gradually glide me down, then a few flaps, and then I'm standing on the ground once more.

"Rowlet..?" I sob, opening my eyes. But despite my tears drying and the air finally being clear of fog, I don't see them. I look left, look right- did they already disappear before I could say goodbye?! I look behind me, and spot a familiar pair of wings!

… On my back.

Over the past few years, things have finally gone back to normal. The weather's fixed, people can see where they're going again, and there's no fog-beasts to worry about. Rescue work slowed down for a bit, but once more people were willing to go outside, it picked back up. That mountain is still shrouded in fog, and there's probably still fog-born living there, but no one wants to go check. Probably for the best that our species don't interact for a while. Give it a few decades, or maybe centuries, things might be better between us and our foggy neighbors. Well, the ones that didn't try to kill us all, at least.

After I lost Rowlet, I realized how lonely I had been before I met them, so… I tried my best to make a friend or two. It was awkward, and difficult; most people aren't very friendly around here. But I did manage to find a few people, and after befriending Rowlet, getting to know people who have normal facial expressions was a piece of cake. I even joined up with another rescuer, and we formed a team! Combine that with my new pair of wings, and rescue work is easier than ever.

Then there's the wings… They're the only thing I have left of Rowlet. I thought, I hoped, that maybe they were alive inside. I talked to them, begged them to give me some sort of sign, but… Well, even if Rowlet really is gone, at least some part of them lives on in them; whenever I eat their favorite chocolate, or do a jigsaw puzzle, I feel a little tingle in my wings.

I make sure to keep them clean and groomed, which got a lot more tedious since they grew with me when I evolved. Still, it's a good thing they grew big enough that I can still fly with them. I'm not nearly as graceful and weightless in the air as Rowlet, but being able to fly at all is amazing! Speaking of flying, I actually have plans for today.

I step outside and walk down the road that's unusually empty for this time of day. It's a foggy morning, and everyone still has some resentment toward it. I was sick to death of fog too after five straight years of it, but now… Now it reminds me of my old partner, who loved it so much. Of the journeys we went on. Of the time we spend together.

I climb to the top of a hill, and spend a while just staring out at the clouded landscape. My wings always feel most comfortable in the fog, where they belong. This is when they're at their peak. And so, I stand up, take a few steps back, run forward, and jump off the hill. I spread my wings out to catch the air, and I glide through the fog like a fish in water.