#& ​the first one with the hood + daffodils

[dozydawn]

Modern Bride, 1978.

[celaenaeiln]

Do you have any fic recs where dicks relationship with the batfam is the focus?

Yes! These are all fics I've adored

FAVORITE!! I place this fic on a pedestal. It's one of the best fics of all time - The primacy of personal conscience

Favorite! Another one of my all time favorites. Dick, Jason, Tim are deaged to their robin eras and Damian and Bruce are in their current ages - Just, How

Dick gets split into three personalities - The choice to be seen

FAVORITE!! - Dick's buried. But like hell is the batfamily going to let it stay that way - The unnecessary requiem

ALL of CamsthiSky's fics focus of Dick's batfam relations and are good reads - Link

Small moments with Dick and the family - Snippets

Dick, Damian, and Tim. Absent parent Bruce and needy Bruce are the same person as always- prodigal

Favorite! Dick and Damian's relationship and evolution - Snapshots

Sad fic if Dick's reaction after Ric was darker - Strength in a Lack of Continuity

Batfamily's reaction to Dick's sexual objectification - I can't hear you, I don't fear you now

Good fic about something I don't remember (sorry! It's been years but I saved it so it must be good) with young justice and batfamily reactions that were accurate - End Days

If Bruce was a lot darker and acted on his overprotective tendencies collection. It's centered around Dick - Darkish Batfamily

How the batfamily reacts to Dick getting shot in the head - Fallen

Dick buys a bunch of plants and bonds with all of them - let your love grow tall

All of Danishsweethearts works are good - Danishsweethearts

Sad fic about Dick being batman again and batfamily's reaction. I think Tim would react differently. Maybe. But it's a fantastic angst fic - My life's going by but it's just begun

Dick, Damian, and Dick's massive group of friend and allies - Missed a spot

Dick's a civilian but he's still their big brother - Those times that Dick Grayson got tangled up with the batfamily

Dick, Peter Parker, Cat Noir, Danny Fenton and their fathers. PS they're all socialite friends. This has to be canon - The Black Tux Gang

Angst story about Dick if he had mental illness. No happy ending - Shattered Tea Cups

Dick is a changed man after spyral and batfamily's reaction - Downward spyral

Someone planning a hit on Nightwing? Not if Nightwing does it on himself first (fun) - Money for daffodils

Favorite! Dick has retrograde amnesia and Bruce struggles to cope - Harbor

Dick died seven years ago. And then woke up - Faith and fate

Dick's secret abilities the batfamily doesn't notice - Unusual skills and habits

The truth of Dick's death and everyone's reaction - Code B

Favorite! Dick is Talon, Tim is Red Hood, and Jason is Red Robin - A New Adversary

Favorite! Jason and Dick are close. Told through the eyes of everyone else - proximity

Soft fic. ABO but Dick acting as Tim and Damian's mother - Your truth is a deception meant to poison me

Dick's gone but the rape of him is not. The batfamily will avenge their brother. The whole world will - Take the night back

ABO robin reversal collection - Robin Reversal ABO

Werewolf au where Dick meets Jason and Bruce comes along - Den and Pack

If Dick got deaged to renegade era - Pause in the Pendulum

Sweet fic about the Batbros seeking comfort in Dick - Haven

Favorite! Duke time! The Batfamily teasing Dick lovingly - Shenanigans

Dark batfam fic around Dick - Gaslight Manor

Dick will do anything to protect his family (Has Constantine/Dick) - Time (to protect you)

If Dick was Terry McGinnis' biological father - Beyond the Night Collection

Talon!Dick in the Teen Titans universe with batfamily - Just a dead kid

Angst, sad fic about Dick getting tired of being the mediator - Please just get along (I can't do this anymore)

One of my all time favorites - Everyday one headcanon about Nightwing

Batfamily mourning the loss of Dick's hair - He's shorn, we're torn

Jason tries stealing in Bludhaven rather than Gotham. He meets Nightwing instead of Batman and his life gets a whole lot better - Hot wheels

Stephanie time travels and meets Robin Dick! - Oops

Favorite! ALL of iloveyourwords' fics - iloveyourwords

Favorite! ALL of ScarlettSwordMoon's works - ScarlettSwordMoon

Angst fic. So much angst. Sometimes Jason's anger gets the worst of him but it's not because he doesn't care - not even rain has such small hands

Favorite! The heroes are forced to forget Dick. And they regret (has constantine/dick/zatanna) - Love that burned green against skin

Favorite! ALL of Kuroaki's works - Kuroaki

Dick, Tim, and Jason watch Encanto and, well, Surface Pressure was made for Dick - Who am I if I don't have what it takes

Pre-robin Dick. Dick's only fault is his over-competence - lightning is the shine (but I've been working on the thunder)

Favorite! Dick's name comes out of the Hogwart's cup. This changes everything and nothing - heavy is the crown

The batkids are unhinged. Poor jason - The AU noone asked for

Dick falls. And so does everyone else (iloveyourwords' fic) - icarus

FAVORITE!! Dick, Jason, Damian undercover on a cruise. Everything goes wrong - Like those foreign stars

YJ where Dick joins Deathstroke and Bruce breaks inside - Fallen son

Favorite! ALL of miss_aphelion's works - miss_aphelion

Here's a starter for miss_aphelion's works - Dick of Troy

Dick and Bruce in the eyes of the JL - Boy on the couch

Favorite! Dick is stuck in his dreamworld and his family just want him back - Happy little bluebirds fly beyond the rainbow

Hunger Games Au! Dick volunteers as a tribute - To get a dream of life again

Dick and Bruce and Dick's graceful manipulation of people - Some men fall from grace. Some are pushed

Dick takes time away from Bruce and finds himself again - Local oldest child takes time away from family

FAVORITE!! One of ScarlettSwordMoon's works - shipping rivalries

FAVORITE!! Dick reveals his trauma through singing - A robin's song

FAVORITE!! Dick's personality gets split in three - Three is a party

Dick runs away to Bludhaven but the batfamily won't let things rest - What stalks in my shadows

FAVORITE!! The batfamily is stuck in a timeloop where they can't save Dick - One thousand, Three hundred, and Nine Hours

Tim being a cute menace and feral Dick - little menace

FAVORITE!! Damian has a few choice words to say about Bruce's treatment of Dick - The threat

Slade saves Dick from the Court of Owls and Rose's view of him - Quiet now, you're going to wake the beast

FAVORITE!! Bruce is gone and Dick is seeing ghosts. The batfamily just wants to protect him - The haunting of Wayne house

FAVORITE!! Deaged Dick and Damian collection - you've always loved the strange birds

Dick's been deaged wakes up in a world with 5 robins no thanks to Slade - persephone's in hell

FAVORITE!! The batfamily's in a time loop trying to save Dick - rewind, remix, retry, redo

Funny fics I'm in love with!

Hilarious and all-around fun - Batbros Wreck Havoc

Favorite! ALL of pupeez4eva's fics but here's a starter for fun - That Torturous Thing Known as Time Travel

More fun fic (can you tell I like the humorous ones?) - A Bunch of Ridiculousness

Don't mess with Dick from Jason's perspective. Jason, Dick, and Bruce - Dig Down Deep

Accurate fic about batfamily's reaction to Dick dating Joey - Families Ever Changing

AU: Justice League meeting Nightwing focusing on Dick, Bruce, and Barry - Starry eyed

(Sorry had to slip another one in) JL's reaction to Dick - Your call may be interrupted

The batfamily will not let anyone take cover pictures of Dick - The annual Bludhaven firefighter's calander for charity

Another JLA story. Dick was a wild child nightmare robin - Adventures in batsitting

[elrielbaby]

Here is my incredibly late entry to @elainarcheronweek 2024, for the day 4 prompt, home. I hope you enjoy, and the link to Ao3 is at the bottom 😊❤️

Elain stood in her bed chambers at the River House, almost glowing with excitement. Nuala stood behind her, buttoning up her gown as Cerridwen painted her lips a soft pink, only a shade or two deeper than her natural colour. Her cheeks had been pinched slightly, and her eyelashes elongated. It was almost time.

Nesta and Feyre sat upon the bed, watching her with an almost reverent expression on their faces. They were already dressed and prepared to go. Nesta wore a gown the colour of roses, with a high neck and full skirts that would no doubt look even more beautiful when she danced later. She loved watching Nesta dance. Feyre’s dress was midnight blue, with gossamer sleeves, and the lower parts of the dress falling in almost a whimsical fashion even seated. Both of their bouquets of white roses, violets and pink peonies sat beside them.

Nuala came to face Elain as she’d finished buttoning up her gown to stand beside her twin. They both looked at her, their eyes brimming with tears.

“You look so beautiful” Nuala whispered.

“Obviously she does. We’re the ones who made her up” Cerridwen joked.

Elain laughed and turned to face the full-length mirror that stood behind her.

She wore a white satin dress, with long sleeves inlaid with lace and a scooped neck. Her hair had been pinned up into an elaborate braid that sat on the back of her head vertically, flowers pinned into it artfully.

Nesta stood, a veil in hand. She came behind Elain to tuck it in to the top of her braid.

“I am so proud of you” She murmured into Elain’s ear as she pressed a light kiss to her cheek. Feyre came to her other side, and did the same.

“Now, lets go get you hitched”

Azriel was waiting in the garden. The River House garden to be precise. He had never been so nervous, he was fidgety, playing with his hands and pacing.

“Could you please stand still? You’re making me nervous” Cassian moaned

Azriel scoffed “Cassian, need I remind you of your behaviour during your own wedding? You almost had a break down because, if I recall correctly, someone had decorated with lilies when you had insisted upon daffodils”

Cassian rolled his eyes and muttered “Lilies play havoc with my allergies.”

The infamous Spymaster of the Night Court smiled. Cassian was the smartest idiot he knew and he loved him dearly. He realised he’d stopped pacing.

Theirs was to be a small wedding, which both he and Elain were more than content with. They had everyone they wanted there: Rhys, Cassian, Feyre, Nesta, Mor, Nyx, Amren (who had invited Varian), Nuala and Cerridwen.

The priestess who had performed Nesta and Cassian’s wedding and mating ceremony stood before them in her robes, hood largely covering her face, but the invoking stone could be made out shining proudly on her forehead.

The rest of the garden looked like a dream, in full bloom and cultivated so lovingly by his beloved. The sun was shining and just the right number of chairs were placed in a neat row on either side of a makeshift aisle.

Azriel, Cassian and Rhys all wore a similar style of suit, black pants, white shirt followed by a black jacket with a pink rose pinned to the lapels. Cassian had bemoaned being in a suit again, claiming he’d worn enough suits for this century, and bemoaned again at the flower being pinned to his jacket, claiming he’d be sneezing all throughout the ceremony. Elain had soon shut him up when in his package that had contained the suit and flower, there was a bottle of what she had called ‘allergy powder’ similar to that of the headache powder she had made for Azriel on that first solstice, when Azriel had dared to hope she might feel something for him too. He wasn’t sure whether it was her powers of foresight or that fact she just knew Cassian that prompted her to provide it for him. Most likely the latter.

Mor, Nyx in her arms, Amren and Varian arrived taking their seats on one side. Mor looked at him and beamed with pride, suddenly jumping up to give him what Azriel could only describe as a one-armed bear hug. She pulled back and looked at him, tears shone in her eyes.

“I’m so proud of you” she whispered, Nyx babbling on her hip.

There would have been a time that such affection from Mor would have his heart stuttering, pulse racing. Now he had no more affection for her than that of a sister. He had been slowly letting go of those more romantic affections for her for years of course, but then Elain came along and Azriel suddenly knew what true love was.

Elain had captured his heart from almost the moment he had met her. It had not been instant and all consuming (as it now was) but slow and gentle.

He was first struck by how beautiful she was, when they met in the human lands. That beauty had only been enhanced since she’d turned Fae, but he’d always found her beautiful.

Then he’d been struck by her gentleness, her kindness. She brought him peace in a way he’d never known and he felt like he could talk to her forever. As time passed, he was again struck by her quiet fury, her determination and her strong inclination toward the hope that things could only get better. She was wise beyond her years, observant in a way he’d only ever seen in two other people: Nuala and Cerridwen.

Slowly, that initial attraction and ease turned to friendship, and that friendship turned into something more. Azriel didn’t give two shits what anyone else said, be that some guy on the street, the Cauldron, or the Mother herself; Elain was his Mate of the soul. She was his love, and his love for her was undying. It surpassed anything Azriel had ever felt before, and he would be her husband and she his wife until his last breath.

Rhys had been wary when he’d first found out. In all honesty, he didn’t blame him. He’d never opened up to him on his feelings of a romantic nature. Rhys knew obviously, that Azriel had once loved Mor and up until very recently had thought he still did. Rhys was protective of Elain in a way, probably because she reminded him so much of his own sister. But it was more than that Azriel knew, there were too many potential fall outs that could happen if Elain and Azriel were to pursue each other. But Rhys was his brother, and his brother wanted him desperately to be happy. Once it had been put to Rhys that had the roles been reversed, and it was he and Feyre in this situation what would he do?

Azriel supposed that putting it that way to Rhys let him know how serious he really was about her. And so, Rhys came around. He was still wary of the aftermath of this, but he had told them both they would have his full support and they would meet it head on.

“I’m being summoned.” Rhys said, his head tilted in a way that told him Feyre was speaking in to his mind.

Rhys walked up to him, clasped him on the shoulder and pulled him in for a hug, then winnowed into the River House.

The music started, and petals started to fall gracefully from the trees. Azriel took a deep breath, and faced the priestess.

Rhys appeared directly in front of her beside the door into the garden.

“Are you ready?” Rhys said, holding out his arm.

Elain gave him a full grin, her eyes watery from emotion “I’ve never felt more prepared” she said.

Nuala and Cerridwen walked out first, their bouquets in hand, in their pink and purple gowns. Then Feyre and Nesta walked out, Nesta taking her spot beside Cassian who stood to Azriel’s right, Feyre next to her.

Elain and Rhys stepped out into the garden. Azriel looked so beautiful, in his suit, his hair falling in waves – she couldn’t wait to plunge her hands in to it later.

He looked at her, tears streaming down his face, which in turn set Elain crying.

They had faced so much to get here. The lies, the sneaking around, the wondering if they could ever properly be together. And here they were, in front of all those they held dear finally being able to profess their love from the very rooftops if they so wished.

They’d finally reached Azriel, the music stopping. Rhys took Elain’s hand, gave her a gentle kiss on the cheek and pressed her hand into Azriel’s outstretched palm. She had eyes for only him. She stroked his thumb with hers as their hands were joined.

“Hi” she said

“Hi back,” he replied “you look more beautiful than I could have ever imagined.”

He took a step closer so that he could whisper in her ear “how precious are you about the buttons on this dress?”

Elain’s cheeks heated, and she swatted him playfully on the shoulder

“You rogue” she chuckled.

The priestess cleared her throat and began.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…”

They exchanged vows, promising to love each other in sickness and in health, for richer for poorer, for better for worse – and then they made their own personal vows to one another. Azriel led the charge. His hand in hers.

“Elain. I love you, and I will love you until we are but whispers in the wind – and in that whisper you will hear the story of us, of how I loved you with every bit of my heart and my soul. I wish never to be parted from you in this life or the next. It is my dream to come home to you every night and to talk to you into the small hours about all things. Your burdens are my burdens, your cares my cares. I will love what you love, and dream what you dream. I am yours from now, until the stars wither in the sky and the sun goes cold. You are my greatest joy, for now and always.”

Elain couldn’t stop the tears streaming down her face. Now it was her turn.

“Azriel. I love you, and I will love you until my heart ceases beating and my lungs no longer draw enough air to speak your name. I will love you through this life, and endeavour to find you in the next. You are my home, my greatest gift. I wish for nothing more than to share a life with you, come what may. A home, children – I want it all, and I want it with you. You no longer need to carry things alone, for I am here to help you. We face this life together, and nothing or no one will stop us.”

Now they were all crying, Amren included. Even Varian appeared misty eyed.

They exchanged rings, and as their hands clasped and the priestess offered up a prayer to the mother a strange phenomenon occurred. Elain had felt an oddness in the air, not unpleasant but as if someone else were here with them. As the priestess spoke to the Mother, everyone gasped as they noticed the faint outline of a hand pressed atop Elain and Azriel’s.

The Priestess stopped. “The Mother approves of this union” she said solemnly but with all confidence. Azriel gave Elain a watery smile. He didn’t honestly care if she approved or not, but it was nice that she did.

“You are now joined as husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Azriel wasted no time, both hands on the side of Elain’s face as he drew her in for a kiss. It was all their kisses rolled into one. Sweet and tender, desperate and all consuming. His tongue slid into her mouth, deepening the kiss. Cassian wolf whistled, Mor whooped. Feyre and Nesta wiped tears from their eyes and then everyone was upon them, congratulating them.

“Listen, I know all you two want to do is go home, but I’m starving and Nesta has forbade me from the wedding cake until you’ve cut it, so, please?” Cassian gave them a pleading look, Nesta nudging him with her elbow.

Elain smiled. “Lucky for you Cass, there’s a full three course meal about to be served. Then cake.”

Cass swooped down and gave her a kiss on the cheek “You’ve always been my favourite” he grinned

“Hey!” Feyre shouted, chasing him into the River House.

They ate like Kings and Queens. Prawn cocktail to start, followed by roast beef and a mountain of vegetables, then treacle sponge and custard to finish. Everyone was positively stuffed by the time the cake cutting rolled around, which Elain and Azriel tried to get to expeditiously. They loved their family but they wanted to be alone.

Once that was done, they hurried through the goodbyes and stepped into Azriel’s shadows. They landed just in front of the doors to the Townhouse.

“This,” Azriel said “is our wedding present from Rhys. Welcome home”

Elain was stunned into speechlessness. It was absurdly generous, even by Rhys’ standards. But she’d always loved this house. It was where her new life truly began.

Azriel stooped to grab Elain behind her knees, whisking her into his arms, one arm supporting her back the other her knees.

He walked across the threshold with her in his arms, eyes on her the whole time. He set her down. Elain looked around the new home from the hallway. Azriel took her hand and she looked down at them, her hand in his.

“Beautiful” she whispered.

[mintyfrostyart]

AYO DETECTIVE BOYS !!

These refs have been a long time coming and I'm so glad I was able to get to them. My next post is going to be about the Detective Gods which all have a brief desc.

Below the cut are Reginald's and Right's backstories/history.

Content Warnings! Reginald - child neglect, trauma from fire, loss of a loved one, adoption, and general heavy themes Right - betrayal of a long-time friend, drug use (smoking as escapism)

Reginald Adopted as a toddler, Reginald Suave was seen as a golden hope amongst his parents. They had tried for years to have children but they had no luck, and thus adoption was seen as their best option. Miraculously, however, his parents did manage to have a child, Daffodil. Reginald's presence as a golden hope suddenly was drafted as Daffodil was a miracle child. Reginald ended up being very close with his sister, making escapes many times to go and watch the trains that would pass by their house. When Reginald was 14, there was a fire at their house, but Daffodil did not make it out. His parents deeply grieved the death of their daughter and the apparency of Reginald being neglected fully became apparent to him. Reginald would disappear for days afterward, wouldn't come back to the house until late and it was often a case that his parents spared him half a glance. For Reginald, the countryside, his parents-- he didn't want to stay any longer. So he got his bags and left for the big city. Luckily, an uncle (his father's brother), Terrence Suave ran into him on the street and quickly offered him a place to say. Terrence had of course heard of what had happened to Daffodil, but he didn't question why Reginald was out on his own. He cared for him as a father-- taking him in, offering him work-- anything to help him out in his time of need. Reginald was never a man of emotion, and Terrence in the present only recalls two times to see him cry: the first being the night he took him in. Terrence assumed a sort of father figure to him. A young detective himself, Terry was dedicated to giving Reginald another chance. Reginald himself would follow in Terrence's footsteps and joined the police prescient at 17 and was promoted to Lieutenant at 24. Terrence later became captain. Reginald didn't move out of the house until his lieutenant status, since he didn't want to be a burden on the man who'd cared for him. At some point in his teenage years, Terry offered to adopted him as his son, marking the second time Reg had ever cried in front of him. Being the captain's son, this would usually be something a lot of people would take pride in. Whilst his badge says "Reginald Suave", a lot of people assumed that Reginald was trying to stick it to the captain in a way of saying "we're on the same status" instead of actually being his son. So Reginald opted instead for the last name "Copperbottom", after Detective Copperbottom. Detective Copperbottom is a whole other story, but it's important to note that Copperbottom is a sort of mythical figure with an infamous reputation for good deeds, kind of like a Robin Hood. Regardless, in the present, Reginlad is pushing mid-thirities and is completely content with life. He's got a job, barely spends anything, and works as much as he can. His father being his father does not exactly agree with this lifestyle-- so what better way than to give him a partner? The ever-famous Detective Right Hanson Manfred.

Right

Marcus Hansen Manfred comes from a family of 14 children with him being exactly the middle. He has two loving mothers (one of whom is transgender) and a loving father. Three parents and 14 children living in the countryside of Lidimay (one of the three states of Cruxidul). You could say life as a young healthy, hearty young boy was all the fun.

And most certainly it was. But as much as Marcus loved his family, his strongest bond grew with that of his childhood friend, Edward "Eddie" Jones. Eddie went to Marcus' house as a child to be home schooled by one of Marcus' mothers, amongst other children, and Eddie and Marcus quickly became great friends. Through and through, the two would go everywhere together. Tending to the farmside, catching trains together-- nothing was boring.

Marcus originally wanted to stay home and take a farming job like much of his family, but Eddie had plans for the big city: Revensteed. There, crime was afoot, and it needed heros like Eddie to come in and stop! Marcus didn't want to let go, so seemingly out of no where, he announced he was going to join Eddie in the police force.

At 16 (Marc) and 17 (Ed), the two of them got themselves junior position as partners on the north side of town, and they were damn good at what they did. Eddie was clearly built for this; he was a natural. Everything they did was imaculate. But Marcus couldn't keep up with the speed of his partner. Somehow, he always lagged behind in something, and it got to Marcus signfificantly. Eddie truly had a passion for this, and Marcus wasn't the shining example he wished he was.

Marcus was never a criminal, but he found himself in the wrong crowd some of the time in his despair. A bar, a club-- the usual place to destress. If he wasn't in a good mood, this would be the place he would go.

At 25 (Marc) and 26, the two of them faced a final straw. Eddie had been wanting to excel to lieutenant, possibly even captain. But Marcus wasn't in a position for the two of them to remain partners if this were to happen. Eddie was to be relocated to the South (where the crime is the worst), and Marcus simply couldn't compete with that. Marcus urged him to stay-- to come up with something to comprimise.

It ended up blowing in his face. The hugest fight they've ever had right then and there. Everything came out all at once. Marcus didn't want this to be the end, but Eddie got his bags to leave for the South and didn't say goodbye.

That was truly the end of their partnership.

Marcus was in pieces. He wished and envied and hated that man-- he didn't think that he'd done anything wrong. He just wanted the best for the both of them, didn't he? Whatever-- it wasn't his fault. And Marcus would continue to be in this denial for a very, very long time. In his fit of depression, Marcus stumbled upon quite the location: Caisno Radman. It was a place of pleasure, relaxation-- anything to keep the troubles away from people. Marcus wasn't sure why he went there; it was just to get the stress of his shoulders.

But somehow, he met someone. Jullian Harp. Jullian was a sly fellow, from outside the country who seemed to always be around queer hot spots like Casino Radman. In somehow in a mix of conversation, Jullian mistakes Marcus' name for "Right". It ended up sticking out to Marcus, and he figured that "Right", as an alias in the detective agency, may be a little less painful.

Jullian and him ended up dating for several months before they broke off on equal terms, and they are very distant friends now, esepically since Jullian is indeed an assosiate of a criminal mafia (Radman).

Yet, now "Right" Hansen Manfred works still in his detective position. He has refused for years to get a new partner, but his luck may just have run out when he gets news from the captain one day.

[whatliesbeneath-ao3]

What You Missed: TDY Act 2

My name is Angela, the director of this Library. I have some spare time, so I figured I would lend you my assistance again.

Follow me.

(Please refer to the content warnings for each chapter on Ao3 before reading.)

Chapter 11 - The Reception of Seven Association

The hydrangea icon for Bookshelf Interlude was Easter egging Gea's appearance and implying his death in the story.

We first heard of "S. Fujiwara" in Chapter 5.

Zinnia's introductory paragraph parallels Mari's original introduction in What Lies Beneath.

Mari and Zinnia's last name, Perrault, comes from Charles Perrault, the author of Little Red Riding Hood.

Gea's final line directly parallels Mari's statement in the penultimate chapter of the Kingdom Arc.

Chapter 13 - A Winter Chill

It isn't mentioned by name, but the flowers Drosera originally gifts Narcissus are gladiolus flowers, most specifically the chartreuse coloring. Gladiolus represents things like strength, endurance, pride, moral integrity...

The second and third flowers Drosera gifts are red roses and baby's breath. Red roses are passion and romance, whereas baby's breath represent sincerity, purity, and love again.

Drosera's mentioned to wear daffodil yellow overalls--Narcissus' flower. How romantic.

Drosera's cat's name is Nighthawk, a reference to the painting by Edward Hopper, which long-time readers will know is one of my favorites. It represents the need for togetherness, the mundane, in a closed off society.

Valerian and Ivy being mentioned at the tail end of Narcissus' dream sequence was to clue the reader into the fact it was a dream: timeline-wise, it doesn't add up.

The description of Drosera's rotting body is a reference to Valerian's talk with Ivy in the Kingdom Arc. (...although it's also just how a body decomposes... but who asked me?)

Chapter 14 - Scarlet Goodbye

The other red Color they're referring to is not the Red Gaze.

Leander is referencing his speech at Chrys' funeral in What Lies Beneath.

Chrys' last name, Faust, was foreshadowed with this line.

Ambrose quotes herself from the Darkest Twilight.

Leander's note was first revealed in the Kingdom Arc.

Chapter 15 - The Weight of Love

The drinks "the woman" orders for herself and Leander are Shark Attack, and Pop My Cherry.

Larkspur is a purple, incredibly toxic (when consumed) plant. Two milligrams is enough to kill an adult. Much less for a child.

Chapter 16 - King in Yellow

Anem mentions, and reveals that he has been on a WARP Train in Chapter 5.

Centra Fujiwara is officially introduced, and confirms that there are indeed four Fujiwara siblings.

We learn Anem's last name, Carpenter. As for why... Jesus was a Carpenter, wasn't he? (I think I'm funny.)

The snack Hastur has at the end of the chapter is Centra's, although the three of them forgot to close it. (I assumed W Corp couldn't reverse what happens to the snacks. There's no bio data for that, and in universe it could be easily written off. It was to reflect that, even when your memories are erased, there would still be a small fragment of them in your heart.

Chapter 17 - Unconditional

"Adele Bloch-Bauer" is a reference to the painting Portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer I by Gustav Klimt. It's also referred to as "The Woman in Gold". King of Greed's design seems to be taken from it.

Every author has their own language, and the readers learn it overtime. In Chapter 15, we built the association that larkspur is a "negative affection", hence why it's reused in Chapter 17.

Viscaria and Forge's reaction to Press' recollection of her injury is because ruptured globe is a very severe eye injury. If you don't seek emergency treatment, there's a very high chance you will lose vision in your eye. For reference, 30-40% of monocular blindness is caused by ocular trauma. There are some cases where this injury might heal on it's own, but I promise that it's few and far between.

The Book of Press was Easter egging TDY. It was actually written during the developmental stages.

Viscaria and Forge's reaction was to discovering the Book of a Lover was empty. (Press scribbling in the margins was a red herring.)

It was implied from the beginning of the chapter that the Book of a Lover would end up on the Floor of Religion. Don't ever, ever trust my throwaway jokes. I'm planning something evil with them.

Chapter 18 - Evergreen

Valerian's dream references the Darkest Twilight.

Narcissus and Valerian's conversation references Chapter 13.

"The Undertaker" is a reference to Technology, a poem written by Ambrose Bierce, mentioned in Chapter 13 by Mari and later discussed between Ambrose and Valerian. It's a satirical poem about the almost theatrical response to death in the Victorian era. In Chapter 18, Valerian takes the role of "the Undertaker".

The Undertaker references Valerian's Tales of Pruned Flowers.

The poem that the Undertaker quotes is Hermann Hesse's All Deaths. However, the poem goes unfinished.

Valerian, died anew as the Undertaker, parallels Rose's actions towards Mari's corpse in the Darkest Twilight.

Alstroemeria flowers represent strength, love, friendship and devotion. Also, go Google the meaning of "resupinate", if you don't already know it.

Chapter 19 - Devotion's Reward

Lonicera, Valerian's sister is officially introduced. Oh yeah, if you're curious, here's what she looks like! Reading this post means you get to see.

We finally see Forge and Valerian's first meeting, referenced in Chapter 1, Chapter 3, Chapter 12, as well as in this art.

Valerian's sacrifice parallels Forge's first time taking someone else's life.

Hastur's right. Valerian, what are you talking about? That's not light reading by stretch of the imagination.

Multi-chapter

We see Viscaria warn the others about Valerian three times, in Chapter 12, Chapter 17, and Chapter 19. Changing the wording from "Sailor take warning" to "Shepherd take warning" was foreshadowing that Anem would agree with Viscaria. (Sorry for the shitty editing. Tumblr only allows thirty images per post.)

Works Referenced

Aion: Researches into the Phenomenology of the Self - Carl Jung (Mentioned in TDY 12: One Drink More)

Technology - Ambrose Bierce (Mentioned in TDY 13: A Winter Chill, and referenced in TDY 18: Evergreen and TDY 19: Devotion's Reward)

All Deaths - Hermann Hesse (Quoted in TDY 18: Evergreen)

The Phenomenology of Spirit - Hegel (Mentioned in TDY 19: Devotion's Reward)

The Interpretation of Dreams - Sigmund Freud (Mentioned in TDY 19: Devotion's Reward)

Man and His Symbols - Carl Jung (Mentioned and discussed in TDY 19: Devotion's Reward)

The Art of Suicide - Ron Brown (Mentioned in TDY 19: Devotion's Reward)

Narcissus' Act 2 Insults:

Chapter 11, "The Reception of Seven Association"

“Her lapdog, you mean.” Narcissus interjects.

Chapter 12, "One Drink More"

Narcissus stands with her arms crossed, staring at Valerian’s ridiculous sitting position, “You look like an idiot when you do that, you know.” “No, you imbecile.” Narcissus replies, instantly. “No,” Narcissus says, for the eighth time. “You’re such a freak.” “Fuck’s sake.” Narcissus says, smacking Valerian in the head with her pillow. “You’re such an idiot.” “They’re siblings.” Narcissus says, and shakes her head. “You’re a fucking disaster when you drink, aren’t you?” “You’re such a freak.” She catches her breath, and says, “You’re such an idiot.”

Chapter 13, "A Winter Chill" (HEY IT'S CRAZY HOW NARCISSUS USES ALL THE SAME INSULTS ON DROSERA AS SHE DOES INFO TEAM HUH)

“You’re such an idiot,” she shakes her head, pulling the covers further over them both. She doesn’t bother to wipe the tears away, kissing Drosera again and again as she laughs, the whole world safely in her home, in her arms, “I love you too, you idiot.” Narcissus scrutinizes it under her harsh gaze, and then shrugs. “Well, whatever. It’s good you don’t have a hangover. I’m not helping you if it lasts all day. Ivy might, the doormat that she is.”

Chapter 18, "Evergreen"

“You’re such a nerd.” She says, rolling her eyes. “Dramatic ass,” Narcissus mumbles. Narcissus laughs. “You’re such a freak, captain.”

Chapter 19, "Devotion's Reward"

“You motherfucker!” Narcissus shouts, grabbing a nearby pillow and throwing it at Valerian’s face. “Yes, we fucking were! Where in the fresh fuck were you, you twat!?”

Narcissus Insult Count Act 2: 16

Total Insult Count: 26

Most Common Insult: Idiot (7 times), which, according to Google, is 26.923%.

That's all for now.

(Well, I said Act 2's What You Missed would be much longer than the first, didn't I? -Poet)

[telumendils]

Daffodils (Zevran x nb!Cousland)

Title: Daffodils  Pairing: Zevran Arainai x nonbinary!Cousland Warden  Themes: Reunion; some NSFW implied  Summary: Someone left flowers on the Warden-Commander’s desk. 

She thought the flowers charming when she first caught sight of them, standing in the doorway of her private quarters in Vigil’s Keep. Elspeth’s head cocked curiously to the side as she recognized the white petals with a burst of yellow at their heart: Daffodils. Her favorite. 

Elspeth crossed quickly to her desk to investigate the bouquet, a slight smile playing at her lips as she tried to guess who may have left them. She couldn’t recall telling anyone at the Keep what her favorite flower was. When would she have had the occasion? And yet there was a whole vase of them sitting on her desk. 

Fingertips brushed delicate petals as Elspeth leaned down to inhale their scent, only to freeze partway there. Somewhere behind her and to the left, there was a sound. The soft swish of cloth against cloth. A faint creak of leather. Suddenly alert, Elspeth slowly straightened, unsure if she’d actually heard anything. 

But there it was again, closer this time, and she could swear the air itself shifted as another body moved into her space. Without another thought, Elspeth thrust her elbow back into the intruder’s ribcage as hard as she could, knocking them off balance with a satisfying oof. She drew her daggers as she turned to face them, blue-green eyes hardening to steel. 

The figure, cloaked and hooded, seemed to right themself all too easily, meeting Elspeth’s blades with one of their own. She pressed them with an offhand swing, determined not to give an inch lest she be put on the defensive in her own home. She didn’t like that someone had managed to slip past the Keep’s guards and invade the sanctity of her private rooms, and she would not stand for it. 

Even on the offensive, however, she couldn’t seem to gain much ground. The figure drew a second blade of their own and met her every strike as if predicting them. A sense of frustrated confusion built in her chest. Why did they not try to win back the advantage? They seemed only interested in defending themself, perhaps hoping to tire her out. 

But then she caught a glimpse of the face beneath the hood—just the flash of a familiar grin from the shadows—and her flurry of attacks faltered. That was all the opening he needed to disarm her right hand and twist it behind her back, just enough to immobilize without hurting her. It was the knife at her throat that should have worried her, anyway. 

“Tsk, tsk, my dear. What have I told you about hesitation?” Zevran’s voice ran through her like a warm summer rain, and her gritted teeth became a cheeky smile. 

“It’s death,” she said, lifting her chin to avoid the point of his blade. 

“Indeed, it is.” Zevran lowered his dagger and released her arm so she could turn to him. Still smiling, Elspeth reached up to lower his hood, steely eyes softening to silk. His arm moved to the small of her back, holding her body against his. 

“To be fair,” she said, gently. “I only hesitated because I saw you.” And now it made sense why he could predict her every move—he’d taught her most of them himself. 

“Ah! Well, then. Perhaps I have judged too harshly.” Zevran brushed her hair back from her eyes, drawing a flush to her cheeks. “You are as sharp and as beautiful as ever, my Warden.” She’d always liked the way he called her that. It almost eased the ache of being stuck with a profession she never asked for when she heard it spoken with such warmth and affection. 

“And you are just as charming,” Elspeth said with a smile. 

“You forgot ridiculously handsome.” 

“As that is a given.” She raised both brows. 

Zevran smirked. “A man does still like to hear it sometimes, however...” 

“Of course.” Elspeth grinned. “You are even more handsome than I remember.” She looked at him fondly, and he looked back, each of them drinking in the sight of the other after many months apart. When she spoke again, it was with a familiar, quiet warmth: “I’ve missed you.” 

Zevran inhaled softly, then his lips were upon hers, gentle at first but quickly growing more insistent. Elspeth melted under the kiss, leaning her body into his, deepening the gesture as her arms moved around his neck. His mouth moved along her jaw to her throat, where she felt the brief impression of teeth and gasped sharply. His hands were already working to loosen the buckles on her armor. He’d somehow managed to sheath his weapons without her noticing. 

His eagerness brought a short, soft ring of laughter to the Warden’s lips. (She’d never know how desperately he’d missed the sound.) Elspeth’s remaining dagger slipped from her hand, dropping to the floor behind Zevran with a clang they both ignored as he pressed her back towards the bed. They made quick work of one another’s clothes, shedding layers of leather and cloth until the only thing left between them was skin, and their bodies fell into a delightfully familiar rhythm. 

Once finished, Elspeth made herself at home lounging on Zevran’s chest while his fingertips traced the length of her spine. “You’ll have to tell me how you got in here,” she said after watching him bask for several minutes. 

“The window, of course.” Zevran smiled, opening his eyes. “You could use more archers on that wall, amora. Your current patrols are...lacking.” 

“Clearly,” she said, deadpan. “You could have come in by the front gate, you know.” 

“But then how would I surprise you, and warn you of the gaps in your security?” 

“You don’t have to do either of those things.” 

“And yet, I want to. Would you deny me the right to take care of you in my way?” 

Elspeth considered him for a moment, then shook her head. “Of course not.” 

He tucked a wayward ginger curl behind her ear and kissed her nose. “Good.” 

[x-heesy]

Cr̵̠͖̂̀̄́́̕y̵̧̛̝͙̪̘͑͋͌͂̓͌̉ͅi̴̛͕͍̤̐͆͆͂̇̈́̍̍͊ṋ̷͆̽̍͊ǵ̷̦̈͐̓̀̉͌ 😂😂😂 #w̵̑��̡̦̲͓͉̟̼͍̀̓h̶̨̢̺̪̻̱̞̓̓͊ͅy̵̧̛̝͙̪̘͑͋͌͂̓͌̉ͅs̶̢͎̮̝̭̫̞̏̒͛͗͜o̵̳̞̖̖̩̻̩̎̍̓́ư̵̛̞̙̩͔̭̠̅̈́̊͆͝s̶̢͎̮̝̭̫̞̏̒͛͗͜e̵̯̞̎̈́̀͑̂̓̽̕͝r̵̠͖̂̀̄́́̕i̴̛͕͍̤̐͆͆͂̇̈́̍̍͊o̵̳̞̖̖̩̻̩̎̍̓́s̶̢͎̮̝̭̫̞̏̒͛͗͜m̵̖͌̈́͜͠f̵̢̘̦̺̼͈́̒̈́̊͝z̴̡͍̹̼̝̣̃̇͑̈͗͘

Junkies from the picture book

There's nothing you can do about it

No matter what you try

So lie down on the floor

It's best to shut up

Take the acid, whore

This is going to be a beautiful gang rape

The first great love was over quickly

The bitch was on cloud nine, I was on cloud nine all the time

Fuck it

Your photo is still on my bedside table today

I was 11 at the time and she was 83

The worse the weather, the better the gangrape

Bitch, I'm still in line - Wembley

Thousands of pills, H and acid

Look at my glasses: rapist Glases

I'm Alki because I can pee pure Krombacher

Make whores drink bong water

Trailer park, Tim Timmäää, I'm fisting your slut

And only make songs because I have an index fetish

Junkies from the picture book

There's nothing you can do about it

No matter what you try

So lie down on the floor

It's best to shut up

Take the acid, whore

This is going to be a beautiful gang rape

Where's your girlfriend, huh?

She wanted to satisfy her curiosity, huh?

It was granted to her

Practical that sluts can simply fall in love more often

Well, that gangrape would board Jesus too

This is what hookers pump for hours in the Eroscenter

As you stroll across Venus

She gets a hose

My grandpa wants it too - Dominique Strauss-Kahn

Oh she dreams of more in your arms

She would like to drive a bus during rush hour in Delhi

There's nothing you can do about it, women have a hard time

Didn't you, fucking son of a bitch, learn anything from mom?

Junkies from the picture book

There's nothing you can do about it

No matter what you try

So lie down on the floor

It's best to shut up

Take the acid, whore

This is going to be a beautiful gang rape

My evening is saved

When a lady sits in my bed

Who then sets herself free, like working in a concentration camp back then, bitch

And they call me a disgusting pig

Because my penis only gets stiff when a girl cries

If the mouse doesn't listen

The fists are used

Because the boys have pressure

That's how it works in the hood

I'm having fun with hoes

After a bag of Coke

In the premature baby ward

No, that was just fun

Man, that’s a shame for the level

I love the bitches like the whiskey

15 years and on Coke

"He doesn't fit in here"

Bitch, don't fuck with me, because what doesn't fit will be made to fit

Junkies from the picture book

There's nothing you can do about it

No matter what you try

So lie down on the floor

It's best to shut up

Take the acid, whore

This is going to be a beautiful gang rape

A few steps through the park

You are putting yourself in danger

Your screams say "no" but your looks say "yes"

Sunglasses and a dodgy mustache

Your mom didn't teach you

You don't play with fire

I'm coming to gangrape with tulips and daffodils

For the karma account I have to fuck a cop's daughter today

I'll wrap you in my bedsheet

And after six noses you can be my sex slave

You are softened by your love of life

But after having sex with me you will be stoned for adultery

And they think I'm a human failure

But just close your eyes and think I'm your father

Junkies from the picture book

There's nothing you can do about it

No matter what you try

So lie down on the floor

It's best to shut up

Take the acid, whore

This is going to be a beautiful gang rape

(All whores with a lot of money...)

(Have fun with a gang rape...)

(The good rappers...)

(Have fun with a gang rape...)

(All cunts without brains...)

(Have fun with a gang rape...)

(The ones without flow anyway...)

(The rape train has no brake)

@bigbonzo 😂

Gǎ̸̹͔̅̈́͘ṋ̷͆̽̍͊ǵ̷̦̈͐̓̀̉͌ b̵̧̙̮̰̜̳̟͈̞̓̀͋̅̓̔ͅy̵̧̛̝͙̪̘͑͋͌͂̓͌̉ͅ Ti̴̛͕͍̤̐͆͆͂̇̈́̍̍͊m̵̖͌̈́͜͠i̴̛͕͍̤̐͆͆͂̇̈́̍̍͊ He̵̯̞̎̈́̀͑̂̓̽̕͝ṋ̷͆̽̍͊d̶̖̠̖̳̏̇̏̆͆̂̾̚r̵̠͖̂̀̄́́̕i̴̛͕͍̤̐͆͆͂̇̈́̍̍͊x̶̧̥͚̹͚͔̙͇́͐͋͛͊́́̄͝, El̵̡̬̹̙͕͍͙̜̂͌̾c̶̡̙̙̞̊̅̋́̒̔̈̑̑h̶̨̢̺̪̻̱̞̓̓͊ͅ, Bǎ̸̹͔̅̈́͘s̶̢͎̮̝̭̫̞̏̒͛͗͜t̵͎̳̠̏͐͒͆̐i̴̛͕͍̤̐͆͆͂̇̈́̍̍͊ DNP, Kǎ̸̹͔̅̈́͘r̵̠͖̂̀̄́́̕ǎ̸̹͔̅̈́͘t̵͎̳̠̏͐͒͆̐e̵̯̞̎̈́̀͑̂̓̽̕͝ Aṋ̷͆̽̍͊d̶̖̠̖̳̏̇̏̆͆̂̾̚i̴̛͕͍̤̐͆͆͂̇̈́̍̍͊

[thebadendnight]

Day 4: Redesign Lord Misfortune, who would later come to be called Narcissus, started as an object head/cuphead oc of mine before going through several design changes and becoming a human character with a regular head, practically detached from his starting fandom. His personality and luck have changed very little, if at all, since then (though he does notice that I keep failing to keep his hair at a constant JKHJGHK) (Development pipeline/timeline down below)

okay so like lord misfortune was literally me being like 'hey what if i made a guy opposite of lady luck but like literally' and then BOOM broken mirror object head was born (i was in a cuphead server at the time so even MORE reason to make him an object head; this was also the pipeline to making more object head people in my roster)

the early iterations of his human design were my attempts in reflecting parts of his object head form so they'd still be there (like his mirror frame had those decorative frame swirls so BOOM his hair gets curly curls wherever)

(the 'fought medusa one time' bit was because i turned his object head head into a shield for one of the designs and a friend said he was ready to fight medusa so i figured HEY why not)

same thought of reflecting his origins (if you will) applied for his persona AU phase with the narcissus /daffodil flowers since i read somewhere that a single daffodil is like bad luck??? but then a whole group of them is supposed to be good luck instead

and personas are based on mythological figures and all so i figured 'hey why not be on the nose and call him narcissus' so BOOM

his fallen london phase is a bit hard to place tbh because it was still during a time where i called him 'lord misfortune' but at the same time i kept drawing and tweaking his human design (a little less on the curl 'whoosh' but still keeping them in general; giving him a hood because of the silhouette i chose for his character)

the current version of narcissus is still technically clinging onto bits of fallen london but otherwise he's practically his own thing now; still a gambler and charlatan and flower guy as he was originally made, but more fleshed out character and design-wise

object head him without a face was literally me designing his first iteration so i could show him to friends without forcing myself to draw the face (seriously why did i give him a face back then JKHJGHK)

[yesthattoo]

Challenge! 18 Questions for Writers

I'm a rebel who hasn't been tagged lol

How many works do you have on Ao3?

53

2. What's your total Ao3 word count?

73,291

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Mostly Tamora Pierce (both Emelan and Tortall verses), some Young Wizards (Diane Duane). I've ever done vanilla Harry Potter but don't do that anymore for Reasons. I do still write for some recursive Potter stuff, like Rigel Black Chronicles and Revolutionary Arc. Did a fic of Little Red Riding Hood once.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Honor unheeded and honor made (194)

Blue (161)

To Yule (150)

Telling the truth (120)

My Oath (94)

3 Tamora Pierce, 1 Potter, 1 Young Wizards

5. Do you respond to comments?

Sometimes. Not always substantively.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Probably In Secret or How to Respond?

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Shalom, New York ended at a wedding.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I have not.

9. Do you write smut fic? If so, what kind?

I do not.

10. Do you write crossovers? If so, what's the craziest one you've written?

I did some Tamora Pierce/Harry Potter crossovers, and I write recursively for some Tamora Pierce/Harry Potter crossovers still. My first fic ever was very mildly Young Wizards/Star Trek crossover.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of.

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Worked with an artist for Shalom, New York!

13. What's your all-time favorite ship?

I'm not a big romance person in general but I do have a soft spot for Daine/Numair.

14. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I think Welcome to a Universe would be a fun one to finish. Loyal Evil Roger is enough a series of one-shots to be always in a superposition of finished and not.

15. What are your writing strengths?

Probably world building. Working with quirks of the world and why they're actually interesting!

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

Visuals lol. I can do it if I think about it but I'm aphantasiac and tend not to think about it.

17. First Fandom you wrote for?

Young Wizards was first, with Movie Night.

18. Favorite Fic you've written?

I myself have noticed my growing resemblance to a daffodil. I laugh when I reread it.

I wasn't tagged and I won't be throwing specific tags. If you want to answer just do it. Be freeeeeeeee

[biromantic-nerd]

🍌

🍌 In your opinion, what’s the funniest joke/reference/pun you’ve made in a fic?

This was really hard actually! I think a lot of my humor in stories is scenic situational humor. Where it's like - hard to pick one line - or even a few lines - because it take context leading up to it.

Like how in 'Money For Your Daffodils' (spoiler) the context of Red Hood is what makes it funnier.

The eye lenses of Jason's Red X mask narrow. His voice is nonplussed. "What the fuck are you wearing?"

The eye lenses on Cass' Red X mask are illuminated with optic lighting that gives them an eerie red glow as they narrow back at him. "What the fuck are you wearing," She counters.

So it's not so much references or puns as it is the moment and what builds up to it. Which is weird because irl I love puns and references! But I guess in writing I love building a set up!

I realize it isn't precisely a joke but the funniest thing I think I ever wrote would be in 'With Magic Soaking My Spine' of (spoiler) how long Arthur and Gwaine go while discussing the other one 'having magic' without realizing that they are both talking about each other. Not only did I just keep pushing the envelope on how long it could go, I turned it into a semi-running gag that occurred more than that once. (Though, of course, they were nowhere near the effect of that most memorable instance where people keep losing their minds over this scene. My funniest scene. No quotable lines! But hands down my funniest scene. You just have to be there.)

"So," Arthur started the conversation dryly. "Magic."

Immediately he had Gwaine's attention. "We're really doing this then, hm?"

I don't think this is my best joke but it does make me laugh so! From 'Devil's Food Cake' is "You're like - a dry shriveled prune! Yeah! A prune, that's what you are, Matt Murdock! A PRUNE!" Of course I can't mention that story without mentioning the namesake Devils Food Cake scene.

"Oh man," Foggy chirped. "You have been missing out, Karen. My great-great uncle Travis used to bake the best devil's cake." Foggy paused. "Er, no offense, Peter."

"Nah, that's okay." Peter grinned before continuing slyly, "It's certainly not the first devil of Hell's Kitchen, but it's probably currently the best."

Matt coughed loudly.

"Whoa, buddy!" Foggy said in surprise. "You okay? Yeah? Well, chew your food next time, you animal, geesh."

ALSO an underrated joke from my 'Marvel Drabbles' from something I wrote before Infinity War came out:

"Um, hello, hi." Tony said, slightly annoyed. "For those of us who don't speak alien tree, what did any of that mean?"

Rocket crossed his arms. "What? Ya want me to bottle feed ya too?"

"What?" Tony spluttered out. "There's a significant language barrier - "

"Wah wah wah." Rocket mocked, pretending to cry.

I think a lot of my situational comedy that - to me, in my opinion - felt successful were stories that I enjoyed writing and made me laugh or garnered laughs from friends and/or readers. And so like when I saw this question I tried to think of puns/wordplay and my mind went to the "Peter mishears that Daredevil dated Electro not Electra". And for references I did immediately think of how I do throw in a LOT of hidden jokes for my friends which will not be spotted by outside readers!

But honestly all in all, just "With Magic Soaking My Spine" is the work I feel is funniest. It has my most specific funniest joke (running gag of Arthur and Gwaine's 'discussion') And overall funniest joke (the whole CONCEPT of misunderstanding palooza where Arthur thinks Gwaine has magic and Gwaine thinks Arthur has magic.)

[campbluelake]

Strangers After All | Verdict Reaction | Suzy

One last time, Suzy tried. She tried to offer her some sort of comforting words; that no matter what she did, she'd still have friends and people who cared about her.

She's regretting that as she watches the scenes play out before her. It's...terrifying. It's disgusting. It's inhuman. It's...someone she doesn't know at all.

That's not Jo. Or Jill or Jacky or any of her other fakeass names.

That's a murderer, planning and execution and all, tearing Warrick apart as if he were made of nothing more than paper. Like the flowers he and Suzy had made together.

The daffodil symbolizes rebirth and new beginnings. It’s one of the first flowers to bloom at the end of winter, announcing the beginning of spring and signifying the end of the cold, dark days.

A passage from a book she'd eyed in the Natural Sciences Cabin flashes in her mind. Is that...is that what this all is? The rain had stopped falling, and spring was coming?

At what cost?

Suzy is snapped from her trance when Malyce stands up, screaming and shouting all the things she can bring herself to at...her.

When he falls into a muddy, sobbing lump, her immediate instinct is to wrap her arms around him as tightly as she can, poncho hood finally falling back and revealing her face.

It's stained with mascara. How long had she been crying, actually? And over which part, exactly? It's hard to tell when they stopped or started actually, and she can't remember herself as they start flooding once again.

All she can do is hold onto him, to try and be his rock right now.

Because his stone wasn't here anymore. And it's all that stranger's fault.

[lala-ladybug]

Healing Hands: Chapter 6

Boss level, here we go!

Jasonette Sword Art Online AU

Read here on AO3

Tag list: @iloontjeboontje

First | Previous | Next

Chapter 6: Stranger danger!

It was a good thing Jason hadn’t taken his weapons or armor out of his inventory last night. He opened his inventory and donned a crimson cloak. Approaching the midtown news stand, he paid for a paper advertising the location of the first level dungeon and continued on his way.

Skimming the headline, it sounded like he had to go to the northeast mountains to find the entrance. The team hadn’t been able to justify buying horses yet, so he’d have to go on foot. Fine by him, more time to walk off his bad mood. And work out a plan.

He’d be in and out, just to see what type of a threat they were dealing with. He wasn’t stupid, but he wasn’t about to just wait around for Dick if he wasn’t going to make a move until they knew exactly what they were facing.

Jason put the paper away and pulled his hood over his head, the red fabric concealing his face. He had reached the road leading north out of town. He took a swig of water from his canteen, which he noted was half-full, and set out.

The walk was almost pleasant, if not for the number of travellers-- both players and NPCs alike-- that he ran into. He couldn’t be sure of their intentions, especially towards a lone player, so he’d duck into the nearest ditch or bush for cover until they’d passed.

The sun warmed his dark cloak, but not uncomfortably so. It felt like springtime here in the game, with tulips and wild daffodils blooming in small clusters by the road. Jason knew he should be back before dark, but that was a long ways away. He kept checking his compass to make sure he was heading the right way, but the path was very easy.

In the distance, he began to see mountains. Pulling out the paper he’d gotten from that morning, he checked that the dungeon entrance was along the slope of one of the mountains. When he reached a crossroads, he adjusted his course accordingly.

By then, his anger had all but faded. He still didn’t agree with Dick and he definitely still thought he was an ass, but he didn’t want to rip his head off over it. Literally. God, what a mess.

He stopped to buy some fresh bread from a family farm of NPCs a few miles before the base of the mountains. What a thorough game it was to have given the three children dimples. He wondered how much information their programming gave them. Did they know the players were forcefully kept here? Did they live the same, simple day-to-day lives? Or did they simply stop moving when players weren’t looking, like cheap animatronics.

Jason shook his head. Too much time alone with his thoughts was never a good idea. He almost missed the company of the others. He’d even settle for Garfield, that obnoxious green punk.

He sighed and continued on his way. It wasn’t even halfway, but there was no way in hell he’d turn around now. Every step he took was a step closer to getting out of this... admittedly pleasant hellscape.

A flock of birds lifted off from a field on his right. They swirled about in the sky, fluid as fabric. Each one moved on its own path and yet fit in as part of the whole. He stopped, watching the ebb and flow as they journeyed to find the next field to settle on.

That would never be him, a cog in the machine, no matter how beautiful. He had put his faith in people before and quite literally gotten burned for it. He scowled at the memory, a crowbar and a grin flashing through his mind. No, he was better off fending for himself. Always had been.

He decided to count his steps instead of face his thoughts for the remainder of the trip.

732 steps to the base of the mountain. He picked the leftmost path.

1056 steps until he needed to grapple around a rockslide.

409 steps before the mouth of a cave. The cave.

Jason confirmed one more time that this was the suspected entrance to the dungeon. He put away the paper, took a deep breath, and plunged into the darkness.

It was cold and damp. He didn’t want to risk a light, so he put a hand to the freezing walls as he walked. He tested every step with his toe, trying to avoid potential falls into the darkness in front of him.

Silence drew in around him, heavy and expectant. It dared him to light a torch and rush forward to face the boss himself. He knew it was a bad idea, but it called to the energy humming in his blood.

He breathed and pictured colors.

In and out, he would be in and out, just like his breaths.

It was hard to think of the cave as anything other than the grave he’d once been confined to, but stretching out both arms helped.

In and out.

He pictured blue.

The ceiling seemed to press down on him, nausea rising in his throat.

Blue skies and blue waters. He wasn’t trapped in here, he was free. Free as the birds in the fields.

Just when he thought he couldn’t stand it anymore, he glimpsed a faint light ahead. It flickered around a bend in the cave, and illuminated the stalactites that were over twenty feet above his head.

The cold sweat that coated his back started to dry, the tightness in his throat loosening. Taking in a deep breath of stale air, he surged towards that light.

He rounded the corner, crossbow drawn and ready. The light came from a burning torch, barely a stub left. The sound of metal clashing on metal caught his trained ears and his head whipped up.

An enormous doorway stood in front of him, huge doors left ajar. He saw a flash of movement beyond them. The noises were also clearer now, shouting punctured by roars that shook the walls. Pulling the hood of his cloak further over his face, he silently advanced.

Peering through the gap between the doors, he made quick work of taking it all in. The room was a long hallway, lined with tall columns and lit by torches. There were some rocks scattered about, which would provide good cover from the massive beast before him.

The monster was about fourteen feet tall of ugly with a large, red belly. It wore armored greaves and wielded a huge axe and a round shield. Its face had a dog-like snout framed by a form-fitting helmet. Red eyes glowed from within the helmet, and slobber dribbled from pointed teeth.

So basically a medieval Killer Croc. This was doable.

Jason was about to leave and report back when he heard a shout. “Kitty, ‘Gami, cover me!”

Before he could unpack that hell of a battle cry, a figure in black armor darted out from behind a column. They blew a raspberry at the boss, then somersaulted and wove just out of reach from its enraged blows. At the same time, someone with red and gold armor drew a rapier and began slicing at the boss’s feet.

A slight person with red armor stood from where they’d been crouched behind a rock on the far side of the room. They fired a longbow with devastating accuracy, and Jason watched in profile as the arrow pierced the monster’s eye. They disappeared just as fast.

The boss roared and started swinging wildly. The red and gold fighter danced out of the way, but tripped over a piece of rubble. Jason’s eyes widened as the monster gleefully brought its axe down upon the felled player.

It never met its target. The black armored person dove over their friend and raised a shield. The blow sent the two flying back to the columns, where they quickly limped for cover.

From Jason’s vantage point, he could see a figure in blue armor dart over to the two injured fighters. They shook their head, then whistled a series of notes. Answering whistles came from the last place he’d seen the red archer, and the three people stayed put.

“Queenie, Maneuver 18!” The archer, a girl he now realized, yelled. A fifth person, this one in golden armor, leapt onto the monster’s head from the top of a column near the ceiling. They took a flail out of their inventory and bashed the boss’s good eye, then flipped down to find cover opposite of the archer. All the while, the archer ran along the length of the hall, firing shots into the monster’s gut.

She slid neatly behind the rocks in front of Jason and glanced at the boss behind them. It was blinded now, bellowing furiously. The girl’s chest heaved with the effort of running.

With three of their fighters out of commission, he didn’t like their odds. Well, so much for in and out. Dick was going to kill him for this.

Jason waved until the girl in front of him noticed the movement. Her mouth, the only part of her face that wasn’t covered by her helmet, parted in surprise.

He somersaulted to join her spot of cover and said quietly, “I can help.” The monster had quieted down now and seemed to be listening intently.

She nodded, then pointed at him and then to his right. Pointed to herself, then to the left. She looked at him to verify he’d understood and he gave a thumbs up. 

She picked up a handful of pebbles and tossed them in front of the rocks they hid behind. The monster pricked up its ears and began advancing towards their hiding spot. She held up a fist to have them wait. The boss grew closer and still she held. Jason could feel its hot breath through his cloak before she finally whispered, “Now!” and launched herself to the left. Jason dove aside just in time. He fired his crossbow at the monster’s chest and could see the girl doing the same on its other side. It had left itself open in burying its axe in the rocks they’d been at mere moments before.

Damn this girl was good.

He watched her exchange her bow for a pair of daggers. The beast’s arms still busied trying to get its axe unstuck, she flipped onto them and ran up its back. Jason fired more bolts into it, keeping its attention while she--

Oh damn. This girl was really good.

She flipped her daggers around and dragged them through its skin behind her as she slid down its back. Then she danced away behind a column, switching back to a longbow and firing arrows into its exposed arms.

Jason grinned, letting the thrill in his blood take over for a moment. He exchanged his own ranged weapon for a shortsword, and started hacking away at the monster’s legs. Where the red archer went high, he went low. They accommodated each other perfectly. He glanced up to see the boss’s HP depleting to nearly zero.

While he swung his sword and dodged out of the monster’s reach, he noticed how much more focused he felt, despite having freed the roaring in his veins. It seemed that the Pit didn’t have as much of a hold on him while he was in the game. A small victory, but staying in control was more than useful here.

The beast turned around just as Jason swung his sword, and it broke against the monster’s shield. A rush of movement beside him was the golden fighter, sinking their flail into the beast’s back. They wrenched it free only to whirl around and use the momentum to plant it in the monster’s stomach.

That blow did it in. It staggered backwards, wounds glowing bright red, and shattered into fragmented pixels. A menu screen popped up in front of him displaying his share of the loot, which looked to be proportional to how many blows he had landed.

Jason looked at the other two. The golden one had already rushed back to where their injured companions were, but the red one remained.

“Thank you,” she held out her hand to him with a smile. He took it and shook once. “It was my pleasure,” he rasped, still catching his breath. He raised his broken sword and asked, “You don’t happen to know a blacksmith, do you?”

She held up one finger, then ran off back into the rubble, searching for something. When she returned, she held the other pieces of his sword. “I can mend it, if you’d like,” she offered, almost shyly.

He nodded and handed his piece to her, hilt first. She assembled all the fragments on the ground, then placed both hands over it and inhaled deeply. As she breathed in, the pieces were pulled inward to their original positions as if magnetized to each other. She breathed out just as deeply, and the cracks between the pieces glowed blue.

The glow faded when she picked it up and handed it back to him. He twirled it around a few times just to be sure, but it felt as good as new. Maybe even better. “That was... amazing. Thank you,” he said, sincerely grateful.

She smiled and replied, “It’s the least I could do. It’s a type of magic I learned called Restorative Alchemy, if you’re interested!” That was definitely something worth looking into. “I also put a little bit of magic in it, so when it’s hit like that again, it--”

“Lady!” A girlish, high-pitched shout came from the player in golden armor. She ran back over to the two of them and tugged the girl away. “Stranger danger!” she muttered pointedly.

The red archer tried to respond, “Well we wouldn’t have won without hi--” But the other girl cut her off, “Shush, we don’t even know who he is!” The archer gave a long-suffering sigh.

Jason took the opportunity to leave while their backs were turned. He’d intruded enough, and he didn’t really care to learn their names.

As he disappeared back into the cave, he thought he heard someone say, “Oh! He’s gone....”

* * *

Marinette watched the doors in the boss dungeon, wondering why that strange man had left so soon. She blinked and turned her attention back to her injured friends. Adrien had taken that hit for Kagami, and even though it was to his shield, he’d need a lot of rest before his arm was in working condition again.

The fight was costly. Luka had run out of healing potions, putting more than half of the team out of commission. It had just been her and Chloe left fighting. She wasn’t sure if they would’ve made it, let alone won without that stranger showing up....

“How’s it looking, boss?” Adrien’s hiss of pain pulled her from her thoughts. She crouched down beside him while Luka treated the arm with what simple herbs he had on hand.

Luka finished tying a sling and stood. “You’re going to be fine. Keep it still for a few days. We’ll get you some health potions when we get back to the house. Kagami, can you stand?”

The girl in question used to column to get up on her feet, but kept her weight off her left. That must have been the one she’d tripped on. “I can stand, but I’ll need help to walk,” she said through gritted teeth.

A costly fight indeed. Marinette moved to slide her arm under Kagami’s and supported her. “We just need to make it back to the horses,” she murmured to her friend.

God, her friend. Her friends had gotten hurt because her plan failed. They had no idea what they were walking into, and she had almost gotten them all killed because of it.

They just needed more time. More training.

The five of them started to limp back to the cave where the light from their torch had almost died out, when a bright light flooded the chamber. It came from behind them, and as they turned to look they saw an open door.

“That must be to the next level....” Adrien said softly.

Marinette looked at her Order, broken as they were, and made a decision. “Another time,” she said. “We’ve done enough for today.”

They still had to make it back and spread the word to the other players. A small smile fell on her face. They could give them this news, give them this hope.

* * *

“You did WHAT?” Dick’s voice cut across the room. Jason had returned to their base after dark, but he didn’t have much choice in the matter. He was tired from walking the entire trip and even more tired from the battle, so his pace on the return trip was a little lacking. But that didn’t mean Dick had to yell about it.

“I helped some people beat the first boss,” Jason shrugged. “I don’t see what the big fuckin’ deal is.” He put his pack down and grabbed some food from the counter.

Dick looked him over and, finding no major injuries, rubbed his hand over his mouth. “What part of ‘wait for recruits’ did you not understand?”

Ah yes, this again. He decided to tactfully dodge that shit. “I only meant to get a look at the boss. You know, do some reconnaissance and then report back? But a group was already there and fighting, and they needed help.”

“So you jumped in to help them?” Tim asked incredulously. “You? Mister Lone Wolf?”

“For fuck’s sake, they could have died,” Jason was getting annoyed now.

Dick gripped his shoulders. “So could you.” He glared as Jason pushed off the touch. “Look Jay, I know we don’t always get along, but I don’t want to... I can’t....” Dick hung his head. “Not again,” he said softly.

“Look,” Jason raised his hands in mock surrender. “I’m not looking to die anytime soon. Repeat performances were never really my thing,” he gave a crooked smile. “But I was fine. The monster couldn’t hold a candle against us.”

Dick didn’t look convinced. “Can you just... tell us the next time you go off on your own?”

Jason barked a laugh. “Not a chance.”

“You’ll give me gray hairs by the time I’m thirty...” Dick rubbed his temples.

“Then we’ll match,” Jason winked and ran a hand through his streak of white hair. Tim snickered and rolled his eyes. Bastard.

[passivenovember]

Snippets of partially written fics that will never see the light of day, part one!

--

He keeps a battered spiral notebook in the back pocket of his Levi’s like some sort of behavioral scientist. Life Among the Gorillas, Jane Goodall through and through, beginning when the car is parked on Cherry lane. 

Billy considers the slopping roof, the screened in porch, and the cracked pavement that proves the house has never seen a family from the west. 

That’s the first fact in his notebook, the holy grail Billy will share with the world when he journeys back home again; houses in the Midwest are not equipped to care for families that were born near the sea.

Families where children are born with boards nailed to their feet. The surfing and skating kind.

Billy doubts they’ll be doing much of either, here.

“It doesn’t look that much different from home.” Max clutches her regulation board to her chest. The world’s most awkward and uncomfortable teddy bear, wheels poking and prodding skinny arms as she glances over, worrying the skin of her lip. “Do you think it looks different?”

Billy thinks it does. 

He hates it. Everything about it; the brown house, on its brown yard, next to its brown driveway. Pancakes and hash browns. Grass as far as the eye can see. 

Max worries the skin of her lip.

Billy thinks it looks different. Thinks it looks like hell, like wastelands and flood lands and miles of isolation, but. “Nah.” He shakes his head anyway.

“Yeah?”

“Feels different, though.” Billy rolls down the window, plugging his nose dramatically. “Smells different, too.”

Max snorts. “Shut up.”

Small victories.

“It does, it smells like cow shit.” Neil and Susan are still a ways off, pulling the Ford behind the moving van. Billy figures they have time, before. 

Things change. Before boards are exchanged for Nike shoes and wool coats in the fall.

Billy digs around for his lighter. “Wonder what the locals do about the stench.”

“Maybe they plant flowers.”

“Impossible,” He says, taking a pull from his smoke and stretching his legs where they sit. It’s been a long drive, but. He’s not ready.

Not yet.

“Maybe they have massive green houses and everyone buys crates of lilies and sunflowers when they seasons change.” Max fiddles with the wheels on her skateboard. “Maybe their living rooms are full of yellow petals. Maybe they only eat sunflower seeds.”

“Sunflowers don’t smell like anything.”

“Bullshit.”

“They don’t, that’s why the factories cover them in barbecue sauce. To make ‘em smell good.” Billy watches Max filter through a series of expressions before she lands on her favorite. 

Irritation. “Just because you’re my big brother--”

“Jesus, don’t call me that?”

Max blinks. Wide and owlish. Wet. “How come?”

And Billy doesn’t want to start off on the wrong foot. Doesn’t want to start over at all, but. That’s what this is. Endings and beginnings and relationships that crumble and turn to dust before siblings rebuild them out of clay, into.

Something shiny.

And new.

Billy tugs the collar of his jacket up and around his ears, frowning. “Makes me sound old.”

“You are old,” Max says lightly. “You know too much random shit not to be old.”

“Like what?”

“Like,” Max adjusts the skateboard, running her hands across the etched and worn surface. “How to change a tire. Where to find the best hiking boots. How to roast a turkey--”

“‘S not my fault your mom can’t cook for shit.”

“I know that.” Max says. “That’s what old people do. Complain about how their recipe for peach cobbler is better, and the local youths are ruining the duck pond, and like. Brag about shit they know how to do.”

“Oh yeah?” Billy counters. “And what kind of shit is that?”

Max shrugs. “Survival.”

She opens the car door after that, placing the skateboard on the pavement and testing the waters. Billy rolls her window down for better driveway vision.

“You think I know how to survive.” 

It doesn’t seem possible.

“Yeah, you know.” Max gets a little more confident after her feet plant themselves on the board. She maneuvers pretty well over the cracked pavement, a kick flip here, a slash turn there. “ You understand lots of stuff. Maybe everything.”

“Everything, huh?”

Billy watches with glee as she falls on her ass over the fist split in the concrete. Max looks up at him, scowling when he can’t quite swallow the laugh working its way up his throat. 

“The jury’s still out on that one.” She says stiffly.

Billy doesn’t buy it for a second. “Whatever, shithead. I’m your big brother now, and I know everything. Remember that the next time you’re trying to get your way.” 

Max flips him the bird. Billy leans against the hood of the Camaro, eyes tracking the movement as Max tries the turn again. 

If nothing else it feels good to stand on his own two feet.

--

Everyone in the Midwest leaves their clothes out to dry in the afternoon sunlight, and the only reason Billy knows this is because Steve Harrington’s clothes smell like warm sugar and daffodil blossoms. 

Billy thinks it might be the detergent his mother uses. 

Maybe the uber expensive, hyper polyester blend that makes up the polos Steve swaps out for gym clothes at basketball practice, but when he finally works up the courage to do more than sniff, Steve looks at Billy like he’s gone insane.

“You actually have dryers on the west coast?”

Billy frowns. “Of course we do, what is this. Little House on the Prairie?” 

Harrington balls up his gym shorts, tossing them at Billy’s head. “The next time you wash your sheets, hang them outside.”

So Billy does.

And the next time he crawls into bed Billy realizes that sun bleached fabric does more than block out smells it creates a fortress. A barrier. Warm afternoons and the smell of oak leaves wrapped in his own little world.

--

From somewhere, through a haze of smoke and the wafting grasp of day old pizza, a needle tore a hole that felt like a bee sting. Painful in the way his feet would sometimes burn on the Middle School blacktop during summer.

Nancy yanked on the yellow rubber-band, letting it fall back in place. It slapped thickly against the meat of Steve's arm, and.

He was hanging in a butcher shopped. Ripe for sale. Wrapped from head to toe in caution tape, and.

Radioactive.

"Ow." Steve hummed distantly, fingers moving to rub. To soothe.

Nancy slapped his hand away. "Stings if you do it like that."

"Stings now, holy shit."

"You gotta let it heal."

Steve frowned. "I didn't think that was the point."

Which made Nancy giggle. "What, not to let it heal?"

"Yeah, I thought." He licked his lips. Once. Twice. It was like seeing God. "I thought we were supposed to let it bleed."

[officialleehadan]

Chaos Swans

Hello darlings! it's a cold, grey day here in Ireland, but the crocus and the daffodils are up, and spring is on the wind.

Today's story was brought to you by CJessie! Thank you so much for your support! It means the world to me!

Prompt: Blood Spilled

+++

“I expected to be disappointed by Ztarva’s soldiers,” Phaenist muttered to Sar as they threaded through the castle, Sar’s mental map of the place and Phaenist’s vampiric abilities smoothing the way. “But I’m heading towards depressed in a hurry. How are they this incompetent?”

“Most of the sensible ones are still out dealing with the remains of the army outside,” Sar explained with a wince for the army he rode with, which got rather enthusiastically destroyed. Everyone liked to tell stories about how Heroes always prevailed over darkness. They never talked about the heroes who tried, and failed. The ones who fought, and the ones who died trying. “the royals of Dourmist rode against her. Something about not wanting an army of killer vampires on their border.”

“Didn’t go so well for them I see.”

“Not so much. I was the only one of the so-called heroes to survive our admittedly spectacular defeat.”

He had tried to talk the rulers out of the attack, for all the good it did him. He argued that an army of humans would never stand a chance against Ztarva’s forces. Unfortunately, he was right. It was a route. Not Sar’s first, he had a nasty habit of surviving spectacular defeats. The benefit of being the hero that no one particularly expected to be trouble.

Maybe there was something to not having the big, flashy powers. The enemy of the week didn’t waste death-cursed arrows on people they didn’t fear.

“So how did you survive it?” Phaenist asked when the next group of servants and guards were gone and they could keep moving. They weren’t far from the servant’s door, which probably wasn’t guarded, since servant doors never were. Sar noticed a rack of cloaks and borrowed one for himself to cover his face. Phaenist was a vampire, complete with the ashy skin, but his clothes were rags. When he saw Sar’s cloak, he stole one for himself. The servants weren’t likely to recognize someone who had been in the dungeon for weeks. “This defeat of yours.”

“The benefit of being considered a lesser threat,” Sar told him and pulled the hood down over his face. “No one bothers with the heroes who can’t throw fire or hold off an army by themselves.”

“They took you captive instead?”

“The benefit of knowing most of the world’s royalty. I’m still a so-called hero. Just… not a very good one.”

Phaenist hummed low in his throat and pulled Sar into a shadowy nook in time to dodge another patrol.

“You’re the best hero I’ve met in a while,” he said when they were moving again. The servants noticed them on the way past, of course. They knew everyone in the castle. They also knew when they were outmatched. Sar eyed them, got eyed right back, and kept moving. “You’re the only ne who survived long enough to get me out of there.”

“Helping an imprisoned vampire is usually pretty low on the list of Heroic Deeds,” Sar said dryly. Servants were hauling bags out to a cart by the gates. Crossing the courtyard would look suspicious; servants always had something to do, and they never just left without permission. Having something to carry made them invisible. It was the work of a moment to lift one onto his own shoulder, with Phaenist right behind him. Together, they joined the line of servants loading up the cart. “But it’s been a bad day, so I’ll take the victories where I can find them.”

“How gracious of you,” Phaenist said with a low chuckle. They deposited their sacks into the cart, and slipped out the gate, now safely across the courtyard and clear of the guards’ sightlines. “they really are spectacularly useless, aren’t they?”

“In my experience, anyone who gets left at home during a war was left home because they were more threat to their allies than to their enemies,” Sar muttered, justifiably judgmental. It wasn’t exactly his first escape that relied heavily on the idiocy of his guards. “Five gold says none of them are any smarter than the poor soul you had for lunch.”

“That’s a low bloody bar,” Phaenist said dubiously. “I’ve never seen a vampire defeated with a steel door, before, by the way. That was clever.”

“Something to be said for an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object.”

The way was easier outside the portcullis. There were plenty of people, and fewer guards. There were also, Sar was glad to see, plenty of humans around. Enough to help hide Sar’s beating heart if anyone competent happened to try and spot him. Not that he was expecting anyone competent to come around. They were all out by the front gate, and would be for a while.

As he thought it, there was a commotion from well behind them, and then the sound of an alarm bell rang out over the castle walls.

“Time to go,” Sar said after a moment to see whether the guards were running towards the castle or away from it. As hoped, they weren’t bright enough to think that he and Phaenist were already out of the castle and on their way to freedom. “You have animal speech, right?”

“Yes, why?”

“There’s a whole flock swans over in that lake. How about you cause some chaos, we steal a pair of horses, and get the hell out of here?”

+++

Blood Spilled:

High Bar

Mind the Hinges(Subscriber Only!)

Cheap Crap Lock

Chaos Swans

+++

MASTERLIST

[sdv-mostly-shane]

The Flowers.

Summary: the farmer is inundated with anonymous flowers-they can’t figure out who it is, until a certain hooded someone is seen in the shadows.

‘Hm. That’s strange.”

The farmer huffed in a bemused manner. Right in front of them, stuffed precariously in their mailbox, was a carefully tied bundle of flowers: but not just any flowers- handpicked wildflowers. From the looks of it, they came directly from the little patch of meadow right by the mountain lake. They were vibrant and effervescent (even if a little disheveled from being stuffed in the mailbox)

“How beautiful. There’s no note though.. I wonder who left them.”

The famer had never received flowers prior to this moment, but they were able to hunt down a vase from the dusty rafters of the cellar. The wildflowers, now decidedly placed on the center of the small dinning table, stood proud; the farmer admired their beauty, and then continued about their day-happy to see them once more before they clamored into bed for the night.

“Huh. Another one?”

The farmer stopped themselves from bursting through the door before they trampled over the bundle on their doorstop. The first floral arrangement sitting on their table had not even begun to wilt yet, and yet the farmer had now recieved double the amount of flowers they’ve ever gotten in their lifetime. They scooped down to pick up the flowers, noticing how this bundle was delicately wrapped in newspaper and twine. The delicate petals were pristine this time, having been carefully laid on the doormat. As the farmer searched for another vase, eventually settling for an empty mason jar, they briefly wondered who could have sent them- maybe their parents in the city? For now, they settled with placing their prize on the table, next to the first arrangement.

“Okay that’s a little weird-“ the farmer exclaimed while removing a parcel of sunflowers from inside the hay bailer in their chicken coop “-why here?”

The farmer had already recieved, arranged, and placed their third flower bundle on the table next to the other two from the days prior, but was taken aback by having found a fourth one that very same day.

“Sunflowers aren’t even in season right now... they’re so hard to come by. Why give me these-they’d be much better given to someone they lo-“

The farmer stopped themselves from finishing their sentence; they didn’t want to admit that they potentially had a secret admirer, and was more comforted by telling themselves that it must just be Lewis making them feel at home... okay, maybe not comforted by that thought, but it was better than the anxiety of wondering who could possibly like them enough to deliver anonymous, expensive flowers. The farmer curiously inspected the beautiful specimens as they made their way to the kitchen to find yet another vessel to work as a vase- this time, a small bucket.

“If this keeps happening I’m gonna have to go buy an actual vase... and maybe a bigger table.”

Over the month, the discoveries of more flowers had increased in frequency to the point where the farmer had almost expected them. Parcels of sweet peas, tulips, roses, crocuses, daffodils, and more had now made daily appearances, each day to be found in a more curious spot. It had expanded to where the farmer was finding their secret gifts not only on their farm, but around town. Some of these places the farmer had an easy time of finding, such as tied to the saddle of their horse, hidden in one of their many storage chests, or stuffed in the trelles of a green bean stalk. Others, such as tied upside down to a branch on a tree next to the wizards tower, floating on a log in a puddle on the beach, and (the most curious-) placed under a light rock on the 34th level of the mines, were quite a bit harder to find. Thankfully, these more obscurely hidden ones had a note with the word ‘FARMER’ scribbled on them, but still no name.

“Yeah I definitely need a bigger table.”

The mysterious flowers had completely taken over the kitchen table, and had migrated to every available surface space in their cabin.

1:50 AM struck on the farmers watch-they had just finished milking the sleeping cows, and had in their hand their 49th bundle of flowers, found waiting for them in their milk pail. Only a little exasperated at having to search for a container at 2AM, and a lot anxious to know who they hell, why the hell, and how the hell someone was playing this game on them. As they cautiously made their way toward the farmhouse, eyes opened for any straggling bundles of flowers, a figure hovering by the side of the cabin caught their eye.

A blue tattered hoody, a tangle of jet black hair, and solid hands had clutched in them a bouquet of gardenias; the farmer gasped in recognition and realization of their mystery flower deliverer.

Shane, startled by the farmers loud gasp, had a few moments of brief terror in his eyes, and then hastily ran down the path into town, still clutching the flowers.

“Wait, don’t-!” But Shane was already out of sight. “Does that mean he’s been the one giving me all these flowers...?”

The next day, the farmer got their answer... well, AN answer. When the farmer opened their door at the strike of 6AM, there on their doorstep was not a bouquet a flowers, but their long awaited note. Hurrying, the farmer bent down and read it-

FARMER:

it’s NOT ME. You didn’t see me at your house last night, and I DEFFINITELY WAS NOT holding anything. Not anything, not even flowers. I wasn’t hiding anything, especially not flowers. And I am deffinitely NOT the one responsible for hiding any flowers. Not me. No. And even if I WAS there, I deffinitely WAS NOT trying to hide anything in the rafters of your house. Nope. Okay bye.

love ,

SINCERELY,

SHANE

ps totally not me.

“Yoba please don’t let them know it was me.”

Shane sank into his bed, now back at home at 6:10 AM. Unfortunately for him, his 6:30 alarm had just screamed at him to get ready for work, and he begrudgingly made his way to the shower.

7:10 AM, and Shane was out the door. Or, at least he WAS out the door, until he stopped himself from trampling a box left on his doorstep. He cautiously opened the package to be greeted by the beautiful warm scent of fresh pepper poppers, and taped to the lid, a note :

Shane:

This box was totally and 100% from me. I DEFFINITELY cooked the fastest batch of poppers in my life, and I FOR SURE ran down here to deliver them, all in the span of an hour. It was me. And I also DEFFINITELY tried to take a peek in your window to catch a glimpse of you. Me. Okay bye

Love,

Farmer

ps, nice try on crossing the ‘love’ out on your letter-still DEFFINITELY saw it.

pss, thank you.

“Well fuck.”

Shane looked up to see the smiling face of the farmer leaning against a tree in front of him.

“Maybe they still don’t know it was me who hid the flowers...”

Inspired by :

[pinkhairedlily]

In Retrospect

Chapter 6 of The Spring He Came Back | 6 of 12

Hitsugaya had a plan – become the youngest tenured faculty in the academy and have countless watermelon contests with Baba and Momo. Graduation and tenure meant freedom to come home, to live out the rest of his days with the only family he knew. What he did not take into consideration was the prospect of marriage.

“That’s your plan?” Rangiku asked incredulously. Hidden between those words, he knew, was mockery. “You really are going through puberty.”

“Shut up, Rangiku. What do you know?”

“As a lady soon to reach the prime age of 18, I know a lot more than you. Raging hormones, pulls of attraction, intense infatuation-“

Hitsugaya had to cut her off before she ventured into more delicate matters, Rangiku-style. “Yeah, I get it. I don’t intend to marry.”

“Unless you see yourself marrying Hinamori, then you’re set for life. Otherwise, it’s an overly simplistic plan dead set on failing.”

“I don’t think of her like that. She’s just…my friend or like a sister.”

Rangiku didn’t say anything back then, but she brought it up again during their trip to Karakura. “Hey Hitsugaya. If you see Momo as your sister, why do you go through the extra mile for her? Sneaking out to meet her? Studying how to preserve daffodils? Renting out the custodian room? With family, you assume they’ll always be there, but you act as if you always need to do something for her to stay.”

He pretended to doze off right at that moment to avoid answering her question, simply because he was also confused. Momo is home, that he knew for sure. When the academy opened its gates for general admission, he half-expected Momo to apply. She was curious of the world and has a way with nature and plants. She would be interested in a formal education, at the very least. When she got accepted, he was beyond happy despite the black and white rules of classism and made-up hierarchy. When she told him she would like to be considered as a Soul core member, he wondered if that was her personal dream. Regardless, he rooted for her success. He always believed in her capabilities, and he never saw her lagging behind. She has her own pace and her own road to pave while he has his. In his mind, they were two separate journeys hoping to merge at the end of their respective successful conclusions.

So when did the realization set in that their paths have indefinite forks, forever parallel in their progress? Was it when he heard the uncertainty in her voice when their friends told her about the repercussions of her eventual Soul membership? Was it the twinkle in her eyes when she first told him she volunteered to assist Aizen in his studies? Was it the delivery of the news from Unohana that Aizen did not advocate for her membership to Soul, stating that Momo herself denied the offer? Or was it the tacit recklessness of her fieldwork which left Baba alone in the process?

“Where the fuck did you go, Momo?”

Tired eyes stared back at him and she mustered an apologetic smile. “I was in a fieldwork, Shirou. I’ll make it up to Baba, I promise.” Before she could take any step further, she suddenly collapsed on the ground. He ran towards her in a flurry, his heartbeat pounding wildly on his chest. He brought her inside, his feet knowing where her room was, and his mouth calling for Baba. Momo was running a high fever, possibly from fatigue and extended exposure to foreign elements.

“Do I need to call a doctor?” Baba was breathless as she entered the room. She placed her palm on her grandchild’s forehead and released a breath in relief. “We don’t have to. I’ll brew a medicinal tea. Help me gather the herbs Hitsugaya.”

The sun was setting when he got back, but Momo was still unconscious. He sat next to her futon and replaced the towel on her forehead. Somehow the temperature lowered down. It was so unlike Momo to leave Baba alone for two weeks, and especially during her birthday. He couldn’t help but feel angry towards Aizen. It was clear he was overworking her with no regards to her physical health. He didn’t even bother to check if his assistant was in good condition when they wrapped up the on the field. Then again, Momo was not the type to complain and openly state her well-being.

Books, notes, and papers were strewn around her once immaculate room. Too busy and overworked to clean, he thought. A folder with the label ‘References’ caught his attention. Curious if it contained the literature she was studying, he opened it. Contrary to his expectation, it was full of Aizen’s university records – from his student days to his faculty experience. The professor should have been tenured by now, considering his qualifications, publications, and pedigree, but he kept bouncing from one university to another. Maybe he just doesn’t want to settle down?

It dawned on him that Momo’s admiration for Aizen ran deep. She deferred the membership because that would take her away from the professor’s side. She didn’t need the academy or the prestige of being identified as a Soul. She only needed Aizen’s referral to apply in the same universities he studied in. Unfamiliar emotions rose to the surface. She chose a dream away from his side but closer to the professor’s. The fork in their roads was a deliberate, conscious decision, and he felt slighted at the implication.

Beside the folder was a photocopy of a list of equations and diagrams. Scrawled at the bottom were notes in a handwriting very familiar to him. Why was the work of his internship mentor, Urahara Kisuke, in Aizen’s studies?

Hitsugaya was broken out of his reverie when Momo stirred from her sleep. He hovered above her, checking again her temperature and called for Baba. She stared at him through her hooded eyes. “You stayed, Shirou?”

“Of course, silly. No one can drag your heavy body from the ground but me.”

“Did you win?”

“It was a draw. Ishida was too good for us and could have won with a landslide, but thank God Ichigo messed up his presentation.” He assisted Baba in helping Momo drink the herbal medicine. The old woman was near tears when Momo apologized for missing out on her birthday.

“My dear, just rest and recuperate. We’ll never leave your side. Let’s celebrate on another day, okay?” Baba placed a soft kiss on her forehead. Momo nodded weakly.

Baba shuffled out the room, a weight lifted off from her shoulders. “I’ll be preparing dinner, Hitsugaya. Are you going to stay the night?”

Momo was out of the woods, and Baba has all the ingredients for medicine. He was worried, but ultimately, he knew he wasn’t needed here. “I should go.”

A hand reached out under the blanket and wrapped itself loosely around his wrist, the fingers cold and clammy. “Shirou.” She didn’t need to say anything more. It was the silent plea in her voice and his uncontrollable urge to care for her. He swayed to her words as if he was programmed to do so the day he set foot in this world,

“On second thought, I might sleep here, Baba.” The old woman smiled at her two charges, happy to see them reunited despite the circumstances. She hummed a tune on her way back to the kitchen.

Hitsugaya also smiled, wanting time to revert to days of tranquility and blissful ignorance. He plied her fingers off his wrist, wanting to place it back under the comfort of her blanket, but he found himself wounding his own fingers through hers. He glanced at her face at any sign of objection and discomfort. “Is this okay?”

“Hmm.” She tightened her clasp on his hand and fell back to her deep slumber a moment after. He wished to have this privilege repeated when she regains her clarity, but he knew they’d be a fumbling mess of embarrassed individuals. It’s okay to stay like this.

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

They were granted two weeks of vacation after the Karakura event, the remaining of which Hitsugaya spent with Momo and Baba. With two people keeping her in close observation throughout her full recovery, Momo had to temporarily stop writing research drafts. She was on bed rest in the next two days with Hitsugaya beside her. The following day, she was granted permission by Baba to walk around the compound, and on the next day, Hitsugaya and her slipped out to the meadow, still brimming with daffodils but some parts have wilted to signal the start of winter.

“We should buy a cake for Baba. Do you think there’s a watermelon-flavored one?” Momo busied her fingers, making crown out of the flowers. They never got around to talk about her denied confirmation to Soul yet.

“Your saturation point must be too high. We have been devouring that fruit since your bed rest.” But he didn’t want to be the person to bring it up first. “Let’s stick with vanilla and caramel. I’ll find one in the town central tomorrow. Can’t believe it’s gonna be another the start of another semester again.”

“Shirou?”

“Hmm?”

Her fingers stopped working on the flower crown, but she did not raise her eyes to him. “I won’t apologize for the Soul offer. I don’t want it at the moment.”

That hurt him in more ways than one. “Okay.”

“What?” She whipped her head back at him, wondering why he wasn’t angry.

Well, he didn’t have any right to be angry, after all. It wasn’t her plan. He wasn’t on her plan, and no matter how much he wanted her to accept the membership and stay closer to him, it still stood that he won’t be part of her plan. He has no right to take that choice away from her because….he was just a friend. “Just promise me you won’t overwork yourself.”

He was thankful that she smiled, having been relieved of the burden to articulate the why’s behind her decision. Frankly, he also didn’t want to hear them directly from her mouth.

“I’m not sure about that, but I’ll try!”

“For all that it’s worth, I hope he compensates you enough. Or put your name as his co-author.”

“Huh?”

Questioning eyes prodded more explanation from him. “Compensation. You know, salary that professors give to their RAs? Funding usually covers those fees. It’s also standard academe ethic to acknowledge them in their papers or have them as their co-authors.”

Momo’s face was a blank slate.

That can’t be right. Aizen did those, didn’t he? Hitsugaya opened his mouth again to pry the specifics of their contract, but Momo put on her jovial self, her defense mechanism. He decided not to push her, given that she just recovered.

“This would look good on you.” She nimbly placed the flower crown on his head, her smile breaking into laughter at the shock and embarrassment on his face.

“Get this off Momo before someone sees us!”

“Oh come on, just five minutes please.”

He relented, only to prolong her laughter in his presence. “I can’t say no to you.”

She scooted closer to him and arranged the flowers on his head, touching the tendrils of his silver hair. In a non-Momo fashion, she scooped up his cheeks in her hands. “You look like a cute dumpling!”

Warmth flooded his cheeks. “You’re too close Momo,” he tried to say through his scrunched mouth. He took hold of her wrists, trying to pry her hands away from his face, and it was a situation stupidly similar to that night they held hands. “I like you.”

He just blurted it out like that, her wrists in his hands, her daffodil flower crown on his head, and her smile still on her face. It wasn’t a declaration based on impulse, it was a domino effect of all the little things, all the little feelings, and all the little encounters. One by one, they have filled up his entirety like how a small daffodil can fill up a meadow. At that very moment, he understood what Rangiku meant.

“I like you too, Shirou.” It was an empty echo borne out of a friendship reflex. She knew that he knew they didn’t hold the same weight as his, but it was enough for now.

He pulled her in for a hug in the middle of that yellow meadow, a witness to their growth and the last happy memory they would have together.

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

He wouldn’t say Momo avoided him for that semester, but her appearance suddenly became scarce. Up until the middle of the semester, she still went to their secret room and profusely apologized to the three Rs for denying the membership offer. She made it up to them, bringing bento boxes, buying new sets of tea and coffee. Hitsugaya noticed she didn’t mention their conversation and hug again, and he considered they were already past it. Then, she just stopped coming.

Irked and superbly irritated, he tried going to their side of the building. Almost conveniently, Aizen ran into him and asked what he wanted from his classes. Not wanting to stir up the pot, Hitsugaya made an excuse about getting lost and returned to the core building side. Something is fishy. If I cannot see her in the academy, there’s one place to go to.

He sneaked out one weekend to the compound to know how she was. To his surprise, the area was largely unkempt and most windows were closed. It was highly unusual because Baba will never slack out on her chores. He heard chronic coughing behind the door, a loud boom, and a string of things crashing one after another.

“Baba!” He found her lying on the floor, blood dripping from her mouth, her hands scratched with broken shards of glass.

Adrenaline coursed through his veins as his small figure tried to lift her up on his back. It was a miracle that he was able to reach the hospital just in time before she crashed. He wasn’t family, but the doctors needed consent for an immediate surgery. He gave the go-signal. He couldn’t wait for Momo.

She appeared at midnight, well past the time Baba had her surgery. Pale-faced and shivering from fear, she turned to Hitsugaya, willing him to tell her what happened, but he wasn’t looking at her.

A doctor appeared at his side, saving him from a lengthy conversation he didn’t have the energy to make.

“Your grandmother had chronic coughing in the past few weeks, it seemed, and she developed pneumonia. The infection scarred her lungs and caved them in, and that made her cough up blood. We had to take some portion of it out in surgery. She’s in the ICU and recovering, but you need to wait for a while because she is still susceptible to infections.”

Momo mouthed her thank you before dropping against the wall beside Hitsugaya.

“Where were you, Momo?”

“I was working with Dr. Aizen in some of his experiments. The workload was too much I had to sleep in school. I didn’t come home for two weeks. Only two weeks.”

“In those two weeks you left her alone, sick, and bedridden with no one to care for her.” Hitsugaya can’t stop the spite in his voice. “If I didn’t come to your house, you would not have found her alive.”

“I needed this. Baba understood me when I told her I’d be gone.”

“Baba always understands because she wants the best for you! She’ll never deny you that. Why are you so enamored with that professor that you can’t see through everyone else?”

“You’re overstepping a line here.”

“Why are you trying so hard to please him to the point that you’d risk Baba’s life for his work?”

“His work is my work too.”

“Exactly, Momo. You’re just a piece of his work. You’re a pawn that he liked to play around. He never compensated you nor credited you. I’ve read all of his articles and not one mentioned your name so don’t tell me that you’re busy working for your dreams when you’re wasting your time with him and killing off people you love.”

A resounding slap echoed in the hospital hallway. Tears were flowing from Momo’s eyes, and it pained him that he was the cause.

“Dr. Aizen is a respectable man, and I will not allow you to slander him further. You are just a peasant, an orphan we took from the street out of pity, and now you want to act like you have our best interests at heart when you entered the academy but in actuality, it was for your own selfish desire. You want to lecture me about hard work? I may always be his assistant, but you, with all your Soul perks and hierarchy, will never be on the same level as him. You’ll come far and achieve much more, but at the end of the day, you’ll always be a peasant. So get out of my sight and never come back until you become like him.”

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

The next day, the supervisors and senior faculty represented by Byakuya and Unohana entered Aizen’s class. Trailing behind them in close distance was Urahara Kisuke, a renowned ecologist in Karakura who went on a sabbatical leave ten years ago.

“What an A-team. What do you need, madame and sirs?” Aizen cheerfully asked.

“Aizen Sousuke and Hinamori Momo, please follow us to the academy tribunal. You are wanted for plagiarism, fraud, and embezzlement.”

NEXT CHAPTER | 7 OF 12 | JUDGMENT NEEDED, NOT JUDGMENT DESERVED