fandomtownies | And In the Junkyard...

From far beneath their feet came the sound of a heavy explosion, large enough to shake the ground. Sounded like the strike team had done...something? At least? And the trembling didn't stop just because the explosion did; instead it kept going long enough to cause most of toys who were still upright to fall over. The remaining constructed minions crumbled apart as the last of the Toymaker's hold over the island came unraveled.

With a deep, shuddering groan, the very earth beneath the Junkyard tore itself apart as a huge outcropping of machinery, like a spire made from metal and circuitry, dragged itself up into the sky. Then it became apparent this wasn't a spire but a stalk as a large cybernetic flower bloomed.

"Please input destination parameters." The voice that issued forth was warm and maternal, the kind of voice that could wrap you up in a hug. "Please input destination parameters. Do not be alarmed. Please input destination parameters so we may go home."

...At least it wasn't telling people to smile and have fun?

[AND WE'RE DONE! Much later than I'd intended to, but Sunday had always been planned to be a wrapup day. Thanks to everyone for playing! <3 <3]

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For all that it was kind of terrifying looking, the flower didn't feel particularly menacing, even to the odd telepath in the group. It felt like it was waiting for something and prepared to wait all day if it had to.

There was also a sense of longing. Homesickness. A readiness to be done.

And underneath it all? It sorta felt like...home.

[Time to go home! Share with the computer one of your fondest memories of the island]

Kanan gave a soft hum as he regarded the flower. The flower and the warm feelings that were coming off of it, that parental sort of fondness that he'd only begun to start thinking of himself in the past few years. He thought of the times the island had given him children, of Jacen and Anan, of time spent playing with two kids in as close to a proper family as he had ever known.

He smiled a little, and then walked up and placed a hand on the flower.

That. That was what he wanted, again.

Fjord's genuinely happy moments in life were few and far between, even here, where so much of his life was clouded by the concern that he'd never be able to get home, that he'd never know what had become of Vandran and why that nightmare entity with the many eyes was so intent on tormenting him.

But there had been moments, here and there. There had been an afternoon spent in the park with Amaya, testing the new shuriken she'd created to see if they could make that thing fly.

The tree that he'd thrown it into was probably still scarred from it, a weird point of pride for a man who had very, very little that he actually took pride in. It had been a good afternoon. A simple afternoon, where he and Amaya had been, as she would say, bold.

It had felt good. It had, if only for that afternoon, felt a little bit as though maybe he could belong here. And for that reason, he cherished it.

"Hello, terrifying flower," Shuri said, nudging at it with her nose. "It has been a very, very long week, and I really, really like having thumbs." She closed her eyes, thinking of the weekly shenanigans and the camaraderie she had built with the other people in this crazy, hilarious, wonderful place that had somehow become a little like a home to her. "Please bring that back," she murmured. "With slightly fewer things trying to kill us, neh?"

Verity didn't trust those petals for a minute, but at this point, she was ready to try damn near anything to stop being porcelain again.

She closed her eyes, laid her hand down on the machine and thought of...Liam.

Their first kiss, brought about by a piece of mistletoe with an attitude. Meeting each other as children for the first time and her immediately 'adopting' him. The children they'd met these past two years: Hayley and Tyrus and William.

So many memories that made her heart swell and make her feel like she belonged.

She wasn't alone. Some of the mice who had accompanied her pressed plastic noses to the machine as well. They had memories, too. Creating the doctrine of the God of Distant Stars. The Great Battle with one of the Green Carnivores that had attempted to gain access to the apartment. The joy of a new litter, now old enough to learn the rites and liturgies. Befriending the squirrels, who were like Aeslin in their own way.

Fandom was home for more than just its humans.

Tip stared up at the flower, feeling very confused.

Home? They were already home, weren't they? She blinked slowly, images flashing through her mind. Fighting statues with a bowling ball. Getting into arguments with books. Showing a deeply unfashionable and very fleshy little squished frog creature around the town proudly.

She let her eyes fall shut and picked out one memory in particular: sitting in the park on a rainy day with Kanan, her practice sword set aside in favor of meditating and people watching and making up stories.

Home.

She set one tiny plastic hand on the flower and concentrated on that memory for all she was worth.

Home.

Mae swayed slightly as she stared up at the flower and wondered if it was real.

That was nothing new. She always wondered if everything was real.

She toddled up to the flower and stuck her paw on it, and closed her eyes into those damned little happy crescents.

A bonfire party in the woods, surrounded by people who almost actually felt like real friends. Wayne and his country reticence. Nina, and her sketchbook full of butterflies. The feeling of unabashed wonder when those butterflies became real. . . .

Yeah. That. She wanted way more of that, please.

There were a lot of things Keyleth could have thought of in this moment: the week she'd spent stuck as a tiger, running around the preserve with Jules and Camden, was even one of them. It had actually been kind of fun, now that she could look back on it with a little bit of distance. Doing the radio, weird as it might be to consider spending time every week in a small booth with Beauregard and her perpetual crankiness a fond memory. Giving Trevor a playful hard time about being so broody. All the peaceful, soothing hours she spent at work at the flower shop, or on the rooftop garden, working with the plants. Turning into a cat to try and cheer Norman up, and feeling like she finally got to be useful.

But no, the memory she settled on sharing was from just a few weeks ago at the Fandom Pride festival, when she'd been working at the flower booth. It wasn't even anything specific, just the sense of warmth and community she'd gotten out of the whole event. That had been the first time since she'd arrived that Fandom had really reminded her of Zephrah, and if this flower -- oddly mechanical as it was -- wanted to help them get home, well. The memory of when this island had most vividly reminded her of home seemed like the best one to go by.

Liam didn't have a hand to place on the flower so much as a sawn-off stump (oh god, he really hoped that when everything got un-fucked he'd get his hands back). But up to the flower he went, ~~Sharing~~ sharing with it memories of experiencing a taste of childhood for the first time. His and Verity's first kiss. Meeting those kids that he hoped would someday be real. Finding a kindred spirit in Octavia. Teaching Beau how to fence.

Fandom was his home, his first real experience with just getting to live, and he wanted that back.

And In the Junkyard...

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