If Vanny is in the digital circus.. where’s Pomni?

enw/6.0 spoilers below the cut

i’m trying to get back into the island fic frame of mind which necessitates thinking about z*nos bc half the things cori is struggling with post enw are related to him. they can’t cast bc of his whole body switcheroo, and when they try to cast it takes them back to that day, trapped in another’s body, desperately dragging themself across the snow to save their friends. and his death weighs on them too, not bc they feel guilty but bc after everything he did to them—hurting shtola back in sb, stalking them throughout enw, projecting onto them and failing to see them as their own person or anything more than a mirror (literally not their own person but a reflection of him), the body swapping!—they only feel relief that he’s dead.

cori is generally a kind and empathetic person and i do a lot of hand waving wrt the amount of killing the wol does—first bc i do think the game is a bit unserious about it frequently except when it suddenly decides to be and secondly bc it just fits her character. she is “the shot that never misses but never kills.” she is not baha blasting two nameless cult members in rak’tika, etc. so any time she does really kill is i think a big deal for her.

but with his death…they have just been so tired and terrified and not wanting anything to do with him but to be left alone. they didn’t want his help at all with endsinger but didn’t feel in a position to turn him down. they didn’t want to fight him in the end but again didn’t feel in a position to reject him—what would he really do if they said no? what would he do to them or to their friends or to anyone else if they let him go? especially if they stayed behind and were not there to stop him.

maybe he’s changed and just wanted to help but they don’t believe that. they don’t trust him, and why would they? but there’s a part of them, later, that wonders if that should matter. if it should matter whether or not his intentions were just or pure or true when he did the right thing anyway. and they wonder what it says about them that they were so quick to disregard that and to feel such relief—almost happiness—at his death.

there’s a quote from the second book in the masquerade series that i think about a lot when i’m thinking about this situation cori is in.

Was goodness still good if you hewed to it out of tactical necessity? Was there, Baru wondered, any difference between being good and pretending to be good for your own gain, if you took the same actions in the end? Was there any difference between telling the truth unconditionally, and deploying the truth in service of your agenda, if you told the same truth? Maybe the Oriati thought so. Maybe the difference between truth-for-itself and tactical truth was the only difference that mattered. Maybe the most crucial and subtle distinction in life was the difference between someone who was truly good and someone playing at goodness to gain power.

ultimately i think cori comes to the same conclusion as the last sentence—it does matter why he did it. now they just have to figure out how to live with the judgment they made, and a decision they made when they thought they were going to die.

— what form of love does your ship embody?

snagged this from @chuckhansen bc it looked fun. i always love going insane for ocs and this is just more of that. basically just putting some ships through this quiz and posting the results :)

[FFXIV] Hawu x G'raha ; love as light [ love as a luminous force—warm, radiant, and golden ] when mary oliver wrote "light of the world hold me” and when charles bukowski said “I look at her and light goes all through me” and when david viscott said “to love and be loved is to feel the sun from both sides”and when e. e. cummings said “lovers alone wear sunlight”

[SKYRIM] Farathilith x Veezara ; love as violence [ love as bloodshed, crimson as a knife slipped between your ribs ] when ocean vuong said "to arrive at love, then, is to arrive through obliteration" and when franz kafka said "you are the knife i turn inside myself; that is love" and when ada limon said "how do you love? like a fist. like a knife" and when richard siken said "sorry about the blood in your mouth. i wish it was mine"

[NEVERWINTER] Lorakalyn x Belxiron ; love as religion [ love as the sole object of your reverence--nothing about you is holy, but maybe your love for another is ] when sappho said "in the crooks of your body i find my religion" and when the cast of les mis sang "to love another person is to see the face of God" and when halsey said "i found God, i found him in a lover" and when katherine philips wrote "to the dull angry world let's prove there's a religion in our love"

[D&D AU] Baha x Eli ; love as a choice [ love is beautiful because it's built deliberately ] when casey mcquinston wrote "that's the choice. i love him, with all that, because of all that, on purpose. i love him on purpose" and when jenny slate tweeted "i just want someone to grab my little face and scream on purpose, on purpose i am going to care about you" and when jodi picoult wrote "after fifteen years, love isn't just a feeling. it's a choice" and when the good place said "if soulmates do exist, they're not found they're made"

[D&D AU] Baha x Caleb ; love as being known [ love is knowing all of someone and loving them anyway ] when tim kreider said "if we want the rewards of being loved we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known" and when joe wright said "The idea that these two people know each other, knew each other when they first saw each other. That they recognized each other from their future" and when micah nemerever said "it was a relief and a horror to be known so perfectly"

[DESTINY 2] Vasra x Soph/Volri/Crow ; love as tenderness [ love as gentleness after a lifetime of cruelty ] when ocean vuong said "sometimes being offered tenderness feels like the very proof that you've been ruined" and when pablo neruda said "like a jar you housed the infinite tenderness and the infinite oblivion shattered you like a jar" and when anais mitchell wrote "all i've ever known is how to hold my own, and now i wanna hold you, too”

-These Fucking Blubbering Thoughts of Mine 9-28-21

I need to release I have so much tension and  fucking frustration.  I am persevering though and actually really do well under stress.  The constant going, working, going, listening, going , everyone else, going, going fucking and going and going.  You see where this is going...ha ha.    It’s not going at the moment for me.  

I have not done much , well I mean, nope, not a whole lot of shit for me.  Lately.  Now maybe I’m selfish.  My man works fucking hard.  He has a hard job.  I sit at home watch the animals and the house and run my business.  I don’t really go out and work much anymore.  So I am spoiled and I do spoil back.  Yet, I have a whole lot of people that lean on this Bitch.  

My counselor told me once that I was like the link, the life line that held the family all together.  I laughed.  Sure seemed a fucked up life line.  I was not going to be receiving any award for “wife” or “mother” of the year. At least not for  the last 10 fucking years that was a fact. sure. That is a whole different story(ies). 

I fucking am so proud of myself for staying composed, not breaking down into a psychotic fucking mess over the business calls, the wreck , the taxes.   Nope.  I shut up.  I listened.  I thought about things.  Asked professional questions.  I took my time and stayed calm.

This is a MAJOR fucking accomplishment for me and I will take that shit.  I will own it.  Bring it on bitches.   Like to humor myself every now and then.

Still at the end of the day.  All that shit that I have pushed through, thought about and  analyzed. Looking into every option or at least I am in the process of analyzing ALL my options for all the shit. Not just one thing but several.  Lots of thinking. While doing all this during my first of many years of sobriety.  I’ll own that shit too.  Badda Bing.  

I then realized that I was starting to tense up.  My mind was starting to get scattered and like an overload where literally I see letters, big, fucking, white alphabet letters floating in my head.  All circuits are shut down. 

I noticed I was doing “that thing” I do.  I breathe to calm things down.  Stopping everything.  Closing my eyes for a second and then taking in a deep breath.  Not talking.  Not thinking.  Then breathe out really slow.  It works for me.  I do it a lot.  I really don't  think about it now, my body just reacts and goes into shut down I catch myself calming down by “that thing” I do.  During stress. Noticing I am taking on too much shit. When I find myself everywhere and just need to slow down. 

 My brain starts fucking up like Sponge Bob the episode when his brain did goes on overload. My daughter knows the words to all the songs and all the episodes Baha.  I guess I expect everyone to know what I’m talking about.

Then I find myself breathing and know that my body is reacting for me.  It’s in the routine of knowing when it's time and I have found a tool that is on auto pilot and I really dig that shit.  Now I Take a moment and every thing , every thought and every body is just gone for the moment. Like I have stopped right where I am at weather talking, listening anything.  I stop, I close my eyes and I breathe and then I’m pretty forward to say ok every thing, thought and one shut the fuck up for a minuet or 6 and let me regroup.

I then realized that part of the issue is that I have been wanting to empty my mind on Tumblr.  I feel good that some people do read it and God and the Universe know that it makes me feel a whole hell of a lot better.  It has been on my mind all day. No matter how bad I was wanting to get on Tumblr and release this shit.  I just had some other priorities with business and couldn’t just stop and relax and get on Tumblr.  I like to take my time with this shit. I also still   had some more shit to do and I like to release it all when I get on here and if I am rushed fuck it.  This is the shit tho that I said causes me to not do anything I might have said I was going to do because I was waiting for the “right time”  . 

 Then I just knew.  I fucking knew that I had to stop.  The right time was then. It  didn’t matter what was left to do.  It was time to stop and do for me.  I picked up my journal .  I turned my phone to meditation music.  I turned the TV off.  Turned the ringer to silent. I said fuck it if I can’t sit down and take my time releasing my mind I can get some shit out.

 I wrote a page and a 1/2 in my composition books. Just the 10 minuets that I sat down on the couch with that scenario above I had released a whole bunch of shit off my shoulders.  I felt really good . Relaxed and refreshed.

That shit was weighing me down.  I forget sometimes that shit  effects me.  It fucks my mental health up.  I am all of sudden on the “success” and of “accomplishments” day and then  manic about it and forget to eat and take care of myself.  I really , really felt that relief.

I felt relaxed, exhausted and I can actually say Serene.  I wanted Serenity for a while. You know pray for it all the time.  God grant me the Serenity.  God does for those who do for their selves.  If I don’t listen to the signs and angels whispers then that’s my fault.  Yet, that long time away from my tools to stay sober, keep smiling and have serenity also made me realize how much it meant to me again.  Without bad you cant know good. 

I am reminded that my sanity is by stopping the shit and  letting things release from me each day.  I like to say that at the end of the night I shower all the negative away.  Going to bed fresh and clean to start the next day fresh and free of the day before shit. 

 I also wrote (write)  in my journal all the time.  I love the tumblr site and love sharing the crazy shit and reading the crazy shit too.   I like being able to type my words it’s faster.  Sometimes writing just isn’t fast enough to keep up with  my mind.  Especially when that little man in my head starts fucking with my shit.

Thanks for reading/listening.  Thinking about me .  Peace out.  For the good of all.

Since the cow thing is actually a really cool idea how about a little cow transformation with Keaton and some weight gain mixed in pretty please!

Keaton was well known among the Wolfskins as being a kleptomaniac -- anything that he liked the look or smell of, you’d better believe he was taking it with him to stash away with the rest of his treasures. It was less of a Wolfskin thing and more of a...Keaton-ism, but the pack didn’t mind too much since he kept his collection away from where they all lived.

However, Keaton was soon going to find out that some things simply shouldn’t be picked up from where they’d been left behind…

The echoing sound of a howl rent the thick air of the forest, Keaton listening intently for a returning howl, ears at alert and tail wagging idly behind him.

He’d gotten lost again, but at least this time he had gone into a different section of forest, and the playful teasing of the pack wouldn’t be too bad. It was always a little embarrassing to get turned around so close to their village. But, it was worth it for the new treasures he always found in areas they didn’t go to very often; people and animals would come and go, leaving all sorts of treats behind for him to inspect.

But, today, the fog had really come in quick, and the damp was messing with his sense of smell and direction. Hence the howling to reconnect with the others! They always had his back, and he’d always have theirs!

Only...he’d been waiting for a reply howl for so long already now...Had he really gone that far off from the rest of the pack that they couldn’t hear him?

“Man, this really blows…,” Keaton harrumphed to himself, tail low and ears down. He’d either have to wait longer, or try to make his way back on his own. Kicking up some dirt in frustration, the Wolfskin chooses the latter option; he’d have to get closer to the pack eventually, right? Just had to keep moving and howling every now and then to check in--

His boot connected with something as he started off in a randomly chosen direction, the tinny sound of a cowbell making his ears perk up in interest. Searching around in the dirt for a brief moment, Keaton whooped in delight at the treasure he’d just stumbled upon. It was beaten up and dented, no shine to it at all, and there was mud and dirt caked into every bit of it! Jangling it around, it produced the most discordant noise he’d ever heard in his life, and Keaton loved it. Grinning to himself, he jostled the old bell around again for the fun of it as he walked off, hardly noticing the odd echo the sound seemed to have now.

Trekking through the woods wasn’t a difficult thing for Wolfskin, but after hours of directionless wandering, even Keaton got tired. Plopping down in the damp grass, back resting against a fallen tree, Keaton let out another howl. Ears tuned in for any sort of response, he whined low in his throat when he didn’t hear anything. This was really getting old, and outside of just being tired and lost, he was getting incredibly bored.

Sitting back against the tree roughly, Keaton’s attention is once again drawn to the rusted old cowbell he’d picked up. It still had the strap attached to it -- as weird as that was, as that probably should have rotted away already -- and just staring at it gave him the strangest feeling that he should put it on. Not the type of person to really think anything through before he committed, Keaton shrugged and went ahead to put the bell on. It settled around his neck rather comfortably, and it made noise whenever he moved around.

“Maybe I should make this a permanent look, huh? Baha, well, maybe not around the others...Dressin’ up like a cow when I’m a Wolfskin is kinda funny,” Keaton laughs to himself, poking at the bell to create more jangling, tinny notes.

It’s after one such poke that Keaton winces, feeling an odd pinch in his chest. He presses a hand to the area, yelping in surprise when his hand meets the wet material of his shirt.

“What the…?!”

Bringing his hand up to his nose, he sniffs, blinking in shock when he smells milk. The Wolfskin doesn’t have much time to process this, however, when the ache in his chest spikes -- Keaton’s eyes widening at the sight before him.

His chest is...puffing up? Getting bigger? He was mostly lean muscle when outside of his Beast form, so it was easy to see the difference, especially when it happened so fast. He could only sit, stunned, watching as his pecs rounded out and enlarged. It wasn’t like he was getting bigger with muscle, though, his chest quickly transforming into something soft and squishable to the touch -- milk slowly trickling from his puffy nipples as they grew larger. By the time his milky man boobs were big enough to be cupped in his hands, Keaton started to notice other changes to his body.

His stomach gurgled ominously underneath his bombastic tits, Keaton whimpering as he felt his middle bloat out in a similar fashion to his chest. It was uncomfortable at first, like his skin was being stretched far enough to split, but the feeling soon dulled away into a soft warmth. His trim abdomen was soon replaced with a fat, pillowy gut, that overflowed onto his lap; chunky love handles causing his belly to divide into upper and lower folds of fat. His thighs had piled on with fat so fast, his pants didn’t stand a chance, busting at the seams and oozing out soft flesh. His ass was also exploding with growth, wobbling as the weight piled on and cushioned Keaton’s bloating form against the ground.

Finally snapping out of it a bit, Keaton let out a desperate howl for help -- trying to project it as far and as loud as he could, praying that any of his pack members heard him and came to help. His howl was cut short, however, partway shifting into the droning call of a cow. The shock of his howl not being...well, a howl anymore had Keaton jolting -- which sent his blubbery body jiggling -- the cowbell clanging around his swelling neck. His neck was getting so fat, topped off by his face getting all puffed out and chubby as well, that he feared for a second that the strap from the cowbell would choke him if he kept getting bigger. He tried to pry it off, struggling to get fat fingers around the leather. After a frantic moment of flailing around, the Wolfskin realized that the strap was adjusting to his size.

It was a small relief, as the massive amount of milk building up in his overflowing moobs was driving him absolutely wild. He was pawing at the overfull mounds of fat as best he could, but his arms were getting so weighed down, he just couldn’t keep it up long enough to get any satisfaction from it. He squirmed and panted, his bulging fat making quick work of his tight clothes and busting open anything that was still fighting to hold back the onslaught of chub.

His whines for help had now fully lowered into the simple lowing of a cow, terrified eyes dulling into a dazed look as he grew. Small, stubby horns popped up by his temples, and the trademark black and white fur of the Wolfskin shifted just a little to look more akin to the spotted hide of a dairy cow; the pattern even spreading to his skin in patches, making his massive figure seem even more rounded out.

By the time other Wolfskins from his pack had tracked him down, Keaton was barely recognizable aside from his scent. Massive body reclined against a fallen tree, the creak of wood beneath the amount of weight being leant against it, Keaton looked like a well and truly spoiled cow. Fat face sunk into his soft neck, the other Wolfskins could hardly even see his face passed the incredible swells of his milk-filled udders-for-tits. His belly was wide and flabby, almost reaching the fold of his knees; most of his weight seemed to settle into a pear shape, giving him juicy thighs and an ass that could kill.

It took a little bit to catch the massive Wolfskin’s attention, a dreamy look in his eyes as he smiled at them.

“Hey, guys, wanna taste?” Keaton mooed out lazily, tail swishing above his globular ass cheeks as he teased milk from his nipples.

Spoilery and Semi-Spoilery Bahadur Asks

SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT

Anonymous said:

Hi Sonnet! [ spoiler for Bahadurs route] I'm curious about Bahadur pushing MC towards the man Marco and how he truly felt inside. After everything the MC and baha shared, it broke a part of my heart. Love your work!

He absolutely hated it.

Anonymous said:

Aw man I'd like to say that the person who killed the Shah is like, literally the last person I'd expect to have done that.

Phew! That’s honestly a relief, anon!

Anonymous said:

First, I'm going to say I just finished the Bahadur route and let me bow down to your greatness! The storyline, the twist, everything was fantastic! Do the next routes have twists as well? Do we learn more about Yasir?

Aw, thank you! There might be a couple more secrets to uncover -- you never know. And we might just get to peel away a few more of Yasir’s layers.

Anonymous said:

hey sonnet!! could you maybe describe the bitter endings a little bit? i just can't bring myself to play them! are they really sad? is it just mc and ro going their separate ways or does something really tragic happen?? i know this is super spoilery and if you don't want to answer that's fine! I just don't think i can play the bitter endings if it's the latter... you make these games too good! i'm so emotionally invested i literally cannot even

The general idea is that all of the endings fall somewhere on the scale of “bittersweet”. So even the bitter endings will never be full-on tragic. Go for it, anon. ^_~ You’ll be fine.

Anonymous said:

Is the mating instinct/marking that Bahadur discussed something wild djinn do? Will it be something Amir tries? I'd be interested in learning more about it and how it works in djinn culture ^^

I think you’re gonna enjoy Amir’s route...

to-move-on-means-to-grow said:

I...loved it! Truly, truly loved it! You are absolutely amazing and your games are killing me every single time I play them, whether it's the 3rd time or the 10th. <3 I'm really happy that I finally got all of my answers regarding the Shah's death and l literally loved how sweet Anisa was, I'd love to see her in the final epilogue. Good luck with the rest of the routes and, of course, with your personal life and can't wait to hear more from you! Have a great day/night and Merry Christmas! :D

Aw, yay! I’m glad you enjoyed it! And thank you for the well wishes. ^_^ Hope you had a great Christmas!

Anonymous said:

so, it was a while ago so I might be misremembering, but for the Valentine's Event I swear I sent in a question asking bahadur if he wished he'd killed the shah to stop the marriage or something like that so during the reveal I was just like 'well that answers that' xD

Oh, that was you, was it, anon? 

Yeeeaaah, so, once in a blue moon I get an ask so spot-on, I can’t even touch it. ^_^

sarah1281 said:

I loved Bahadur's route! I was so shocked by...well, you probably know exactly what I'm talking about lol It was harder on me emotionally than Ran's route even with how painful the deception in that one was. It was hard because Bahadur was so steadfastly loyal and self-sacrificing I felt more of a responsibility to do right by him but I didn't always know what that meant whereas with Ran it was more straightforward what I needed to do to help him and have a good relationship.

I’m so happy you enjoyed it (and also it made you suffer) -- makes it all worth it! ^_^ And, yeah, with Bahadur the answers are probably a little less obvious, since MC is struggling to redefine her relationship with him and work out for herself what it means to stand on equal ground.

Help! A Hurricane Destroyed Our House and We Can’t Afford That Vacation Anymore

Dear Tripped Up,Our family home in The Bahamas was recently destroyed by Hurricane Dorian. Nobody lost their lives, but the physical damage was catastrophic and the emotional trauma is ongoing. I am writing on behalf of my parents, who live there full time. Our family was scheduled to go on a trip of a lifetime and sail the Baltic Sea with Norwegian Cruise Line, but now those funds are needed to begin rebuilding. I have written to Norwegian and CheapCruises.com (where we purchased five cruise fares in full) asking for a refund. So far, my request has been denied.MargoDear Margo,When I received your email, on Sept. 15, American media reports about Dorian had subsided. By that point, the rain-slicked TV anchors had turned their cameras toward the next storm.But your story has stayed with me. When I spoke with your mother by phone a couple of months ago, I learned that your parents waited out the storm in their cellar until the home they “thought had been built so well,” as she described it, finally gave way.“We had just gotten to a place where we could afford to take a family trip like that — it was all out-of-pocket,” she said. “The money would go a long way on the house, and I just couldn’t be taking the money and going on vacation. It’s a huge blowback.”That’s the thing that many of us — myself included — can’t always grasp when we see imagery of natural disasters from afar: Hurricanes tear through brick, wood and concrete just as forcefully as they tear through whatever life activities are afoot, from retirement plans to vacation plans.The travel industry is generally very good at bolstering relief efforts after hurricanes and other natural disasters, especially in markets like The Bahamas, where tourism accounts for 60 percent of the country’s G.D.P. Through its fund-raising arm, Baha Mar, a $4.2 billion resort development, has raised more than $2.5 million for Dorian relief. Royal Caribbean has spent more than $4.6 million on relief efforts so far; following the storm, the company diverted five ships to deliver 20,000 meals a day to Grand Bahama. And through a partnership with All Hands and Hearts, a natural-disaster-relief nonprofit, Norwegian Cruise Line Holdings Ltd., the cruise line’s parent company, has committed $2 million to cleaning up debris and rebuilding schools and houses.That’s why I found Norwegian’s terse response to my email such a head-scratcher: “This situation has been resolved — and we believe everyone is happy. We don’t have a statement to share publicly, but thank you for giving us an opportunity to comment.” When I pressed further, the company declined to elaborate.However, CheapCruises.com, the online travel agency where your parents purchased their cruise tickets, was shrouded in no such secrecy. The company confirmed that Norwegian refunded your family in full: more than $14,100, including onboard amenities. CheapOair, where your family purchased nearly $3,200 in plane tickets, has also managed to wrestle refunds from the airlines. Every company involved in your case bent its (usually very strict) cancellation policies in your favor. My hunch is that Norwegian was so tight-lipped because it doesn’t want to be bombarded with refund requests — despite the nice press about doing good.Your story calls to mind one other question that I think many readers will wonder: Would travel insurance have helped?It’s hard to imagine having the foresight to buy travel insurance for precisely this reason, but the short answer: Yes. In general, various travel insurance policies across the industry, from Berkshire Hathaway Travel Protection to Norwegian’s own BookSafe Travel Protection, provide coverage when your primary residence is rendered uninhabitable in a natural disaster.Your GoFundMe page shows piles of tarp-covered lumber awaiting their fate: a frame for a new house. Hopefully the recouped funds will help accelerate those efforts and help you rebuild. And hopefully, at some point down the line, you’ll find yourselves well-positioned to take that long-awaited family vacation.The Dec. 8 edition of Tripped Up, about a woman with severe apple allergies who was denied boarding on an Emirates flight, roused reader reactions of all stripes. Andy wrote, “Sorry, if you can’t be in a generalized public situation, maybe you don’t get to fly! 200+ additional people can’t be held hostage to you proclivities. If I had , the ‘citizen’ in me would find some other means of travel before I’d expect to screw a plane load of people!”Sarah Firshein formerly held staff positions at Travel + Leisure and Vox Media, and has also contributed to Condé Nast Traveler, Bloomberg, Eater and other publications. If you need advice about a best-laid travel plan that went awry, send an email to [email protected] PLACES AND MUCH, MUCH MORE Discover more Travel coverage by following us on Twitter and Facebook. And sign up for our Travel Dispatch newsletter: Each week you’ll receive tips on traveling smarter, stories on hot destinations and access to photos from all over the world. Read the full article

Lacewoodshipping Week Day 7: Hello/Goodbye

I DID THE ENTIRE WEEK 

the achievement is real omfg. I’ve never managed to keep to one of these before, baha.

This, as per the usual, became both wildly out of control, deviates totally from the prompt, the end is SUPER ABRUPT, and it was written between midnight-3:20am because what is a sleeping pattern.

If anyone wants to actually read something that does kind of stick to the prompt, I did actually do a series of alphabet oneshots, and G and H actually happened to be Goodbye, Hello, and bonus prequel Fight (to  be read in the order Fight , Goodbye, Hello). I haven’t read any of these back because I’m far too tired to deal with my old (awful) writing skills, but if you fancy dealing with my old (awful) writing, go nuts!

I’d like to thank @monsycamour AGAIN for organising this lacewoodshipping week! It’s been amazing to throw myself back into writing for this ship, and in a week I hand in my final project thesis of my masters degree, and I’m free from uni! (at least until I get the PhD position I’m aiming for lmao lmao). Until I figure out what I’m doing with my life, I’m gonna have a load more free time (hopefully), and I 100% intend to finish rewriting my old fics! So, the Sinnoh series rewrite will be completed, Written Words is going to be re-edited, probably rewritten and completed, and I might even finish the alphabet drabbles (because I’m fairly certain I only made it up to like, H or I or something and I have like, half finished oneshots for the rest of the alphabet just hanging out in my hard drive). I also might expand on a couple of these shipping week oneshots! 

HYPE.

Also, for fic clarification, I headcanon Serena as beginning her Pokémon journey around 19/20 (I know there was a little conflict with the ages of the player character ingame and such, but w/e, that was my age when I was playing so there we go lmao), with the main campaign lasting around a year or so, and her eventually becoming Champion around 20/21ish.

enjoy!!

---

The first time they meet, Serena is a strange mix of nervous and excited. It had taken some time, but she had finally made it to Lumiose City – and it was amazing. Even as she entered the city from Route 4, the atmosphere totally overwhelmed her – so many people moving confidently through the streets, the shops and cafes and attractions all begging for her attention. Still she resisted the urge, following Sina through the South Boulevard to the Sycamore Pokémon Lab.

“The professor can’t wait to meet you. You can find him on the third floor, so hop in the elevator!” the research aide grinned at Serena, clapping her hands together in excitement. Serena tried to smile back at her in return, though she’s fairly sure she only managed a slightly sickly looking grimace, before moving to the aforementioned elevator, eyeing the slightly rickety looking mechanics before gingerly stepping inside and pressing the button for the third floor.

She wiped her slightly sweaty hands on her skirt, straightening her clothes as the elevator rose to her destination. Heart jumping in her chest, Serena slid her way through the door before it had fully opened, gazing around the surprisingly bare room. Two desks sat before her, alongside a couple of bookcases overflowing into stacks of books on the ground, and what appeared to be a semi-temporary screen wall partitioning off a portion of the room into a more private area.

Before she could move more than a few steps, however, a figure in a lab coat rounded the partition wall – Professor Sycamore.

“So,” the professor grinned down at her, stopping a small distance ahead of where she stood and propping a hand on one hip. “We finally meet!”

Serena let out a faint laugh, tension ebbing out of her at the relaxed aura that surrounded the man. “It’s about time,” she agreed, remembering her manners and sticking a hand out in front of her. “Hello, Professor Sycamore. I’m Serena.”

“Oui, oui, fantastic!” He closed the space between them to grab her hand, shaking it up and down so enthusiastically, Serena was jostled by the force. “Come this way, won’t you?” He let go of her hand (turning away before he witnessed her shaking it in relief) and motioned toward the wall partition, leading the way around to where a slightly more grandiose desk (absolutely littered with papers) lay.

What followed definitely constituted as one of the more bizarre experiences of Serena’s lifetime. Being told she had a… what did he say? Je ne sais quois? Followed by a battle, being gifted a new Pokémon and some sort of strange stone, the rest of the ‘gang’ showing up, being asked to help with Mega Evolution… By the time Calem and the others had begun to head out, leaving Serena behind with the professor, Serena was more than a little overwhelmed.

“Everything alright, Serena?” the professor asked once he realised she had yet to leave. Serena nodded quickly, rearranging her bag on her shoulder and laughing a little.

“Yes, of course! Sorry professor,” she grinned, raising a hand in a small wave. “Goodbye!” He raised a hand in reply, but just nodded at the new pokeball in her hand.

“Take good care of Squirtle, OK?” A smile spread across his face. “Not that I have any doubt you will do a fine job,” he added. Serena nodded eagerly, before making her escape around the partition to chase after her friends, and maybe convince them to tour the city full of shops and cafes with her.

---

Since their first meeting, Serena and the professor had met a few more times throughout her journey – Courmarine City, Lysandre Café, their slightly heartwrenching conversation in Couriway Town after everything with Lysandre… Sycamore had been visibly shaken during that particular encounter. Even so, he departed with a cheery promise of a surprise (though Serena was convinced his cheer was mostly a façade ), and a hint of a treasure of his to be found in the town.

When she finally located the inscription at the train station, she squinted as she read it out. "To the person reading this,” she began, tracing her fingers over each word. “What are you like now? Did you become who you wanted to be? For starters, what was the person you wanted to become even like? I don't know, but it would be wonderful if you can boast that you're living each day to the fullest. To future Sycamore. From the Sycamore dreaming of the future.”

With a morose sigh, she let herself drop to slump on the bench next to the ‘treasure’, hand still pressed against the inscription as she thought of the conflicting emotions on Sycamore’s face during their last conversation. She was fairly certain the past Sycamore who carved a message into a train station bench certainly couldn’t have predicted the alarming events of the last few days.

“Am I becoming who I wanted to be?” Serena whispered to the ceiling, tipping her head back to stare up at the roof and pressing her fingertips against the words beside her.

She didn’t sleep well that night, plagued by dreams of what had happened within the Team Flare Secret HQ, ending with the image of a younger Sycamore – without the lab coat – staring back at her as the HQ crumbled around him.

---

Despite the questionable quality of Serena’s sleep now that images of the crumbling HQ plagued her at night, she somehow managed to beat Diantha, taking the mantle of Kalos Champion as her own. The parade at Lumiose was beyond unexpected – she might have bothered to actually wear something nice had she known she was going to be thrust into a spotlight the second she arrived in Lumiose as requested by the professor – but she enjoyed it nonetheless, allowing herself to relax at the afterparty at the lab with their closest friends and family.

As the night began to draw to a close, Serena  held her drink close to her chest as she peered around the room for the one person she really wanted to talk to. The professor had presented her with the Honour of Kalos during the public ceremony, dark circles under his eyes that he had clearly at least tried to hide with some concealer. At Serena’s concerned look, he squeezed her hand lightly as he handed the award over with a quiet promise of “We’ll talk later.” However, though he had made another speech at the beginning of the party, Serena hadn’t seen him since.

Slipping away from the main body of the party, she summoned the elevator and stepped in – it still looked rickety, but she was more willing to trust it now she’d been in the lab as many times as she had. She didn’t even have to step out at the second floor, a quick glance around the room after the door opened told her that there was no one there.

Stepping out on the third floor, however, the temperature instantly dropped. Making her way around the partition to Sycamore’s desk, she found the doors behind it flung wide open onto the balcony beyond, the silhouette of Professor Sycamore leaning on the railing illuminated by the bright lights of the city. His lab coat lay abandoned on the desk, and he suddenly seemed smaller without it, less an imposing figure of authority and direction, and instead more… human.

“Professor?” Serena tentatively broke the silence, skirting around the desk and stepping onto the balcony into the brisk air of Lumiose City.

As if broken from a trance, Sycamore jumped at her voice, spinning around to face her.

“Ah, Serena, désolé,” he apologised, the bubbling liquid in the champagne flute clutched in his hand sloshing wildly with his movement. “I just needed some air, I can come back-“

Serena cut him off with a wave of her hand, moving to his side and leaning on the railing to mirror his previous position.

“Don’t worry, Professor. I could use some air too, I just wondered where you were,” she reassured him, letting her own (empty) champagne flute dangle by the rim over the edge of the balcony.

Sycamore reassumed his position, twirling the stem of his glass in his hand with a sigh and let the silence stretch between them.

“Professor…” Serena broke after a few minutes, shifting her gaze to the man beside her as the quiet tension finally became too much. “Are you… alright?”

Sycamore shifted uncomfortably, refusing to turn his gaze to her as he hung his head. “I…” he began, but trailed off, the silence pressing down heavily on the pair.

“I still have nightmares,” Serena blurted, and that made him look up at her. “Lysandre is there. So is the legendary Pokémon, and then… then everything is crumbling, and I’m running but I can still hear him behind me.”

“Serena…”

“You’re there too, sometimes,” she added, and his eyes widened in surprise at that. “You as you are now, or sometimes you when you were my age – or at least,” she glanced to the side, an embarrassed flush rising to her cheeks as she thinks maybe she’s said too much. “How I imagine you probably looked, anyway.” She met his gaze once more. “But I have them. Every. Night.” She hesitated for a moment, then balanced her glass on the railing and moved her hand to lay it on his forearm. “We’re allowed to grieve,” she reminded him softly. “And we’re allowed to hurt.”

Sycamore breathed in deeply, breaking their gaze to tilt his head back and stare at the sky above them, his eyes shiny. “You are wise beyond your years, Serena,” he chuckled, though his voice was tight, threatening to catch in his throat. Another moment of silence before he continued. “I keep replaying our conversations in my head, Lysandre and I,” he admits, his voice soft and quiet, an uncharacteristic change from his usual confident and strong air. “Trying to see if I should have noticed earlier, if I could have saved him from… his own delusions, I suppose.”

Serena tightened her grip on his arm, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt. “No,” she replied firmly. “There wasn’t anything- if someone had any idea- this isn’t on you, professor.”

“Augustine,” he replied quickly, moving his wet gaze back to her face. “Unless you want me to start calling you Champion, I believe we are past the point of formalities. Especially talking about this.” Serena searched his face for a moment before nodding slowly.

“Okay. Augustine.” The name felt thick and foreign on her tongue, but a thrill of excitement ran through her, her fingers twitching slightly in their grip on his arm. “We can’t keep wondering what might have happened had we acted differently,” she added, her voice hushed.

Augustine sighed again, pressing his hand over hers on his arm. “Oui,” he conceded. “I know. Yet I still can’t help it.”

Serena twisted her hand to press their palms together, twining their fingers. The slight intimacy of the gesture felt strange, but the comfort it offered won over her hesitation.

“We need to support each other,” Serena squeezed his hand. “You, me, the others who were there. We don’t have to suffer alone.” She watched curiously as Sycamore balanced his still full glass beside her empty one, before pulling her into a tight hug, hunching over slightly to rest his chin on her shoulder.

“Thank you,” his voice was close, right beside her ear and she couldn’t help a slight shiver at the proximity even as she wound her arms around his back. “You’re the first… to really say anything. Diantha tried, but it was… too soon.” Serena squeezed him.

“You looked like you needed to talk,” she replied softly.

They both fell quiet, drawing what comfort they could, but neither moved from their position. At least not until a wolf whistle pierced the air from the boulevard below, followed by a chorus of laughs and jeers. Serena whipped back, scowling down at the group of guys stumbling along below them – clearly on their way back from some bar - and jabbing her middle finger up at them. A few more laughs, but they continued on their way without consequence.

“I apologise about that,” Augustine said nervously, his glass back in his hand and a respectable distance put between them once Serena turned back to him.

“Don’t worry about it,” Serena waved it off, jamming her freezing hands into the pockets of her skirt as the chill in the air finally began to register. Augustine still looked slightly uncomfortable, his gaze following the group of lads up the street. “It’s fine, Augustine,” Serena reaffirmed, moving to bump his shoulder with her own. “Though I really should head back to my hotel. It is late, if the bars are turning out, and today has been… exhausting.”

“Of course,” Sycamore grabbed her glass from the railing and motioned inside, moving together to shut and lock the balcony doors behind them as they moved back into the building.

“Thank you for everything, Augustine,” Serena bowed slightly as they waited for the elevator to arrive to take her back downstairs.

“Ah, do not thank me,” Sycamore laid a hand on her shoulder. “I am truly so proud of you.” He chuckled as her cheeks became pink at his praise.

“It’s all because of you!” She argued as the elevator door slid open. She stepped inside, slipping from his grasp and turning to face him, raising a hand to wave farewell. “Goodbye, Augustine!”

“No,” he cut in quickly, half-entering the elevator to grab her hand mid-wave and squeeze it lightly. “Not goodbye. That always seems so… final. And I think we’ve had enough finalities for a while, at least.” Serena grinned, but nodded in agreement.

“You make a fair point,” she conceded. “Not goodbye, then. See you later?” Sycamore smiled and winked, bringing her hand up to press a light kiss to her knuckles.

“Tomorrow, perhaps?” he asked as he released her hand to step back, out of the small elevator. “Allow me to buy you dinner in thanks for… everything. And as a celebration of your achievements, Champion.”

Serena grinned, her cheeks reddening further. “That sounds wonderful,” she agreed. “I’ll message you in the morning?”

“Sounds like a plan, ma chérie,” Sycamore nodded. “I look forward to it.”

“Same here!” Serena laughed, finger hovering above the button for the ground floor. “See you later, Augustine!” At his wave, she pressed the button, waiting for the door to close before clumping against the wall and pressing a hand to her pounding heart.

Help! A Hurricane Destroyed Our House and We Can’t Afford That Vacation Anymore

Dear Tripped Up,

Our family home in The Bahamas was recently destroyed by Hurricane Dorian. Nobody lost their lives, but the physical damage was catastrophic and the emotional trauma is ongoing. I am writing on behalf of my parents, who live there full time.

Our family was scheduled to go on a trip of a lifetime and sail the Baltic Sea with Norwegian Cruise Line, but now those funds are needed to begin rebuilding. I have written to Norwegian and CheapCruises.com (where we purchased five cruise fares in full) asking for a refund. So far, my request has been denied.

Margo

Dear Margo,

When I received your email, on Sept. 15, American media reports about Dorian had subsided. By that point, the rain-slicked TV anchors had turned their cameras toward the next storm.

But your story has stayed with me. When I spoke with your mother by phone a couple of months ago, I learned that your parents waited out the storm in their cellar until the home they “thought had been built so well,” as she described it, finally gave way.

“We had just gotten to a place where we could afford to take a family trip like that — it was all out-of-pocket,” she said. “The money would go a long way on the house, and I just couldn’t be taking the money and going on vacation. It’s a huge blowback.”

That’s the thing that many of us — myself included — can’t always grasp when we see imagery of natural disasters from afar: Hurricanes tear through brick, wood and concrete just as forcefully as they tear through whatever life activities are afoot, from retirement plans to vacation plans.

The travel industry is generally very good at bolstering relief efforts after hurricanes and other natural disasters, especially in markets like The Bahamas, where tourism accounts for 60 percent of the country’s G.D.P. Through its fund-raising arm, Baha Mar, a $4.2 billion resort development, has raised more than $2.5 million for Dorian relief. Royal Caribbean has spent more than $4.6 million on relief efforts so far; following the storm, the company diverted five ships to deliver 20,000 meals a day to Grand Bahama. And through a partnership with All Hands and Hearts, a natural-disaster-relief nonprofit, Norwegian Cruise Line Holdings Ltd., the cruise line’s parent company, has committed $2 million to cleaning up debris and rebuilding schools and houses.

That’s why I found Norwegian’s terse response to my email such a head-scratcher: “This situation has been resolved — and we believe everyone is happy. We don’t have a statement to share publicly, but thank you for giving us an opportunity to comment.” When I pressed further, the company declined to elaborate.

However, CheapCruises.com, the online travel agency where your parents purchased their cruise tickets, was shrouded in no such secrecy. The company confirmed that Norwegian refunded your family in full: more than $14,100, including onboard amenities. CheapOair, where your family purchased nearly $3,200 in plane tickets, has also managed to wrestle refunds from the airlines. Every company involved in your case bent its (usually very strict) cancellation policies in your favor. My hunch is that Norwegian was so tight-lipped because it doesn’t want to be bombarded with refund requests — despite the nice press about doing good.

Your story calls to mind one other question that I think many readers will wonder: Would travel insurance have helped?

It’s hard to imagine having the foresight to buy travel insurance for precisely this reason, but the short answer: Yes. In general, various travel insurance policies across the industry, from Berkshire Hathaway Travel Protection to Norwegian’s own BookSafe Travel Protection, provide coverage when your primary residence is rendered uninhabitable in a natural disaster.

Your GoFundMe page shows piles of tarp-covered lumber awaiting their fate: a frame for a new house. Hopefully the recouped funds will help accelerate those efforts and help you rebuild. And hopefully, at some point down the line, you’ll find yourselves well-positioned to take that long-awaited family vacation.

The Dec. 8 edition of Tripped Up, about a woman with severe apple allergies who was denied boarding on an Emirates flight, roused reader reactions of all stripes. Andy wrote, “Sorry, if you can’t be in a generalized public situation, maybe you don’t get to fly! 200+ additional people can’t be held hostage to you proclivities. If I had [allergies], the ‘citizen’ in me would find some other means of travel before I’d expect to screw a plane load of people!”

Sarah Firshein formerly held staff positions at Travel + Leisure and Vox Media, and has also contributed to Condé Nast Traveler, Bloomberg, Eater and other publications. If you need advice about a best-laid travel plan that went awry, send an email to [email protected].

52 PLACES AND MUCH, MUCH MORE Discover more Travel coverage by following us on Twitter and Facebook. And sign up for our Travel Dispatch newsletter: Each week you’ll receive tips on traveling smarter, stories on hot destinations and access to photos from all over the world.

Sahred From Source link Business

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Help! A Hurricane Destroyed Our House and We Can’t Afford That Vacation Anymore

Dear Tripped Up,

Our family home in The Bahamas was recently destroyed by Hurricane Dorian. Nobody lost their lives, but the physical damage was catastrophic and the emotional trauma is ongoing. I am writing on behalf of my parents, who live there full time.

Our family was scheduled to go on a trip of a lifetime and sail the Baltic Sea with Norwegian Cruise Line, but now those funds are needed to begin rebuilding. I have written to Norwegian and CheapCruises.com (where we purchased five cruise fares in full) asking for a refund. So far, my request has been denied.

Margo

Dear Margo,

When I received your email, on Sept. 15, American media reports about Dorian had subsided. By that point, the rain-slicked TV anchors had turned their cameras toward the next storm.

But your story has stayed with me. When I spoke with your mother by phone a couple of months ago, I learned that your parents waited out the storm in their cellar until the home they “thought had been built so well,” as she described it, finally gave way.

“We had just gotten to a place where we could afford to take a family trip like that — it was all out-of-pocket,” she said. “The money would go a long way on the house, and I just couldn’t be taking the money and going on vacation. It’s a huge blowback.”

That’s the thing that many of us — myself included — can’t always grasp when we see imagery of natural disasters from afar: Hurricanes tear through brick, wood and concrete just as forcefully as they tear through whatever life activities are afoot, from retirement plans to vacation plans.

The travel industry is generally very good at bolstering relief efforts after hurricanes and other natural disasters, especially in markets like The Bahamas, where tourism accounts for 60 percent of the country’s G.D.P. Through its fund-raising arm, Baha Mar, a $4.2 billion resort development, has raised more than $2.5 million for Dorian relief. Royal Caribbean has spent more than $4.6 million on relief efforts so far; following the storm, the company diverted five ships to deliver 20,000 meals a day to Grand Bahama. And through a partnership with All Hands and Hearts, a natural-disaster-relief nonprofit, Norwegian Cruise Line Holdings Ltd., the cruise line’s parent company, has committed $2 million to cleaning up debris and rebuilding schools and houses.

That’s why I found Norwegian’s terse response to my email such a head-scratcher: “This situation has been resolved — and we believe everyone is happy. We don’t have a statement to share publicly, but thank you for giving us an opportunity to comment.” When I pressed further, the company declined to elaborate.

However, CheapCruises.com, the online travel agency where your parents purchased their cruise tickets, was shrouded in no such secrecy. The company confirmed that Norwegian refunded your family in full: more than $14,100, including onboard amenities. CheapOair, where your family purchased nearly $3,200 in plane tickets, has also managed to wrestle refunds from the airlines. Every company involved in your case bent its (usually very strict) cancellation policies in your favor. My hunch is that Norwegian was so tight-lipped because it doesn’t want to be bombarded with refund requests — despite the nice press about doing good.

Your story calls to mind one other question that I think many readers will wonder: Would travel insurance have helped?

It’s hard to imagine having the foresight to buy travel insurance for precisely this reason, but the short answer: Yes. In general, various travel insurance policies across the industry, from Berkshire Hathaway Travel Protection to Norwegian’s own BookSafe Travel Protection, provide coverage when your primary residence is rendered uninhabitable in a natural disaster.

Your GoFundMe page shows piles of tarp-covered lumber awaiting their fate: a frame for a new house. Hopefully the recouped funds will help accelerate those efforts and help you rebuild. And hopefully, at some point down the line, you’ll find yourselves well-positioned to take that long-awaited family vacation.

The Dec. 8 edition of Tripped Up, about a woman with severe apple allergies who was denied boarding on an Emirates flight, roused reader reactions of all stripes. Andy wrote, “Sorry, if you can’t be in a generalized public situation, maybe you don’t get to fly! 200+ additional people can’t be held hostage to you proclivities. If I had [allergies], the ‘citizen’ in me would find some other means of travel before I’d expect to screw a plane load of people!”

Sarah Firshein formerly held staff positions at Travel + Leisure and Vox Media, and has also contributed to Condé Nast Traveler, Bloomberg, Eater and other publications. If you need advice about a best-laid travel plan that went awry, send an email to [email protected].

52 PLACES AND MUCH, MUCH MORE Discover more Travel coverage by following us on Twitter and Facebook. And sign up for our Travel Dispatch newsletter: Each week you’ll receive tips on traveling smarter, stories on hot destinations and access to photos from all over the world.

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