#also im still unsure What kind of fern it is

[besnouted]

against the odds the dying home depot fern i “saved” against my better judgment last year has survived and thrived

[spyrkle4]

An update for Heroes of Flowers since the Tempest of Hearts almost is over

it’ll be awhile... not like 2 months long but like a couple weeks hopefully until the next HOF update (im thinking maybe September?)

And thought I’d share some of what’s coming up and what’ll happen!

If you’d like to prefer being kept in the dark I’ll put it under a “read more” n.n

So Phase 3 (Which will be after the interlude story) will be the end of what I’d call the “main” story of HOF and it takes place during the fugitive arc in the show timeline... tho im not doing the fugitive arc plotline bc Snooze would get conked on the head with a broom by an angry Ari everytime he went into the Lucky Cat and also I’d like to keep my braincells

(Tho Chief Cruz will be a part of Phase 3 even if he isn’t the “big bad”... but like in the “ok grandpa let’s get you back to bed” energy everytime he rants about superheroes and supervillains XD. Not rly but I think you’ll like how I write him)

Phase 3 instead covers an arc I’ve dropped hints of... which I like to call the Galaxian arc since the big bads of that are the Galaxian Pirates, my own little supervillain team. Not stating that my og arc is gonna be better than canon (even if the bar is low) but I hope you guys enjoy (I shall be posting their refs as they show up tho so you’ll like em).

Like I said, not saying im better than canon (which is a loaded subject tbh im not going into that), but I had a fun writing my own little twists to the latter half of Season 2 and I hope you enjoy them! 

But there’s an interlude fic before that which’ll be called Heroes of Flowers: Curtain Call and it follows the aftermath of COM and be mostly focused with the Fern fam, with the nerd gang (+ Ari) getting a break in the bg. It’s basically the calm before the storm 

It’ll also be the canonical debut of Jackie the emotional support Rabbit, an OC I’ve drawn before but he hasn’t shown up in HOF yet. (A bit of trivia about him tho is he’s based off of a Pokemon character of mine, Jackie the Buneary from one of my stories LPM), this drawing is from the cover of Curtain Call and this is all you’re getting of it for now 

(Jackie isnt one of the main characters of HOF but he is one of my favorite side characters to write, his debut sidenote is kind of later in the story, but I hope you’ll enjoy CC! It was fun giving the Ferns the spotlight, something that miiight’ve carried over in FFP because I had way too much fun writing my emotional support found family)

Phase 3′ll be called Fallen From Power and it’ll be posted after Curtain Call but wait there’s more!

I’ll also be posting a side-story called Heroes of Flowers: Karmi’s Spots which will have Karmi having her own adventures outside of SF featuring a lovable spotted family in Camden and two OCs that may or may not be related to some canons.

KS was really self-indulgent/fun, I enjoyed writing all the shenanigans and it’s also a crossover with an underrated TV show I really like. Tho dw I tried my best to be noob friendly (if you haven’t seen the show), but I can always go into details in the ANs, still hope you enjoy it!

there will be some references to Fallen From Power in it, I’ll be sure to mention which chapter the reference is at the start of each chapter if there is a reference so you don’t get spoiled if you haven’t seen said chapter... tho ur free to take the spoilers out of context I’m not one to tell people how to read n.n; 

unsure how i’ll update but im thinking of doing an every-other week thing, one week I’ll post for FFP and one week I’ll post for KS!

Anyways hope you guys enjoyed and I hope you’re hyped to see what I have in store. I had a lot of fun writing these 3 future installments and I’m excited to share them with you guys!

I just had to talk about the future of HOF since after TOH (and I mean Tempest of Hearts, not The Owl House, so many people get them mixed up its so funny XD), hope you guys have a good one!

[47beesinarave]

Love in the Air

Part 2

a/n um yes i am alive hello this took a while n honestly im just being impatient bc i want to get further into the story where its more fun for, um, reasons but im very excited for it!!

1.2k words - Love in the Air Masterlist

It was easier to talk to Akaashi than you thought it would be, and It was comfortable being around him. Once you were able to get over the enchanted stupor he would put you under you found how truly relaxing his presence was. You’d still find your eyes naturally draw towards him when you were together, but just as often you’d catch him silently staring towards you. You got to understand how he melded so well with his group of friends, and how he managed to get along so well with Bokuto. You got to know him and it was so much more than you had originally thought.

At first, as much as he was captivating, he was - at least had seemed - placid and distant and the more the two of you would meet up to put everything together the more you realized that his tranquil nature was truly just surface level.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to include this bit in it?” you asked him. The dinner was only a few days away, and the gift near finished save for a few minor details you were adding together.

“Yes, if we changed it at all it wouldn’t be the same. It wouldn’t really sound like Konoha if he wasn’t picking at Bokuto a little bit,” he said sipping his now lukewarm coffee. “This is his nicer version, too, because I told him it is a gift that everyone will see.”

“How kind of him,” you said while adding the final touches to the file on your laptop.

He watched you as you worked, your latte cold and half-finished pushed to the other side of the table. You turned to meet his gaze and smiled.

“You know, it might be kind of funny if we just, didn’t add his bit to it for getting it to you so last minute.”

Akaashi grinned at the thought. “He would say his piece either in this or in front of everyone during the reception in a toast.”

“Exactly, it’d be funny,” you said.

“For everyone except Bokuto.”

“Has that stopped you all before?”

“No, not really,” he laughed.

You worked on finishing the video together, trying not to think about how after this you didn’t have an excuse to meet up with him like this as frequently anymore, and once the wedding was over none at all. All that could really be hoped for was that he wouldn’t turn down going out to get coffee together once the wedding was over and that you could maintain whatever friendship you’d build over the last few weeks.

“I’ll miss this,” you thought as you began packing your laptop and heading towards the exit together. You’d miss how refreshing and easy it was to just talk with him and have fun. How he would think things through carefully and then miss something completely obvious. Every time you would have your meetings for the gift at the coffee shop he became less a fascinating enigma and more real, and the more you found yourself charmed by him. Heading home wasn’t really what you wanted to do right now.

“I’ll see you at the rehearsal dinner,” you said as you waved your goodbye to him. “Thanks for putting this together with me.”

“Yeah of course,” he paused looking as if he wanted to say more, his fingers fidgeting down at his side. “Actually, can I ask you for a favor?”

His unease heavy enough that it was showing slightly in his face was… interesting to say the least. It wasn’t often that you’d see him so obviously unsure.

“What favor?” you asked, more curious about why he seemed so uncomfortable than whatever favor he needed.

“Would you mind being my date for the dinner and the reception?”

Not quite the favor you were expecting

“I’m really kind of tired of the boys, mostly Kuroo and Bokuto, pestering me about asking someone,” he continued. “And I really don’t want Hana to go out of her way to push me to ask someone she finds. It also will be easier because we have to do so much together and help with the wedding.”

“Sure.” You said as you burst into giggles at his sudden rant. “It would honestly save me from the same fate if Hana had found out I didn’t have a plus one yet.”

“Great,” he sighed. “I’ll see you at dinner in a few days.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you then.”

---------

The rehearsal dinner was stressful, but it was a lot of fun. You enjoyed seeing your best friend so happy, and you knew she’d be calling you later with the look she gave when she saw you walk in with Akaashi.

Once everyone finished eating you asked Akaashi to go and set up the projector as you asked for everyone’s attention.

“This is a little gift from the rest of us to the two of you. I got pictures and recordings of everyone sharing stories and memories they’ve shared with the both of you and wishing you both the best in the future. We’re all really happy for the two of you.” you finished with a smile and sat down, Akaashi taking the seat next to you as the short video began to play.

It was great to see everyone enjoying it, and the warm smile Hana had the whole time it played. Once the video finished and everyone was getting ready to leave she made her way over to you and held you in a tight hug.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I couldn’t have asked for a better maid of honor.”

“Don’t think I didn’t see you tearing up while you watched it,” you said as you handed her a USB with a copy of it for her to keep. You laughed as she smacked your shoulder, her own giggles joining in.

“By the way, when you get home later you’re going to call me and you’re telling me absolutely everything,” she said with a devious grin, glancing towards Akaashi who stood a few feet away. You rolled your eyes.

“Of course,” you said as you gave her a quick hug goodbye and turned to walk back to Akaashi.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

“Yeah”

The walk home with him was peaceful and the night was cool. Akaashi glanced down at you as he walked you home, your grin never leaving your face.

“In a good mood?” he questioned, watching as you turned to look at him.

“Yeah, I’m glad that everyone really seemed to love the video.” you beamed. Your heart felt full and warm, but more than how well your little surprise went, you were glad that you were allowed to have this short moment on your way home with him.

“Mmm, me too,” he said. “Bokuto is a generally cheerful and happy person, but the only other times I’d see him smile like that were at Hana.”

“Yeah, it was nice to see,” you whispered as you approached the doors to your apartment. “Thank you, for helping me with it. And walking me home.”

“Of course,” he said as he watched you turn to open your door. “Once the wedding is over we should meet up and get lunch together.”

You almost dropped your keys in surprise at the thought, but looked back at him and smiled.

“I’d really like that.”

Tag List <3

@sleepyhaikyuuu @chi-chanmoosedrip @akaashit-baeji @fern-writes-ig @skyguy-peach @gulfwanq @mochi-poof @akaashichigo @keijilovebot @whalien52dreams @cold-and-cold @marvels-supernaturalsherlock @yusemis @drainedjaz @aizawa-sh0ta @hqmakkitrash @spudicide @asranomical @hakueishirei @akiiyukii @strawbrieshortcake @briswriting @pineapplekween @sosugasweet @macaronnv @agaassi @chxrry-wxne

Tag list is open just let me know!

[radiojamming]

hey. hey. i just wanted to say the angel fic with the guns for hire? it was So Good. im eagerly waiting for part 2, which i hope (first of all that this doesn’t sound demanding lmao) includes the pastor, or maybe the marshal? since they both have their own preconceptions of angels, or in Burke’s case ‘angels’. alternatively joey and staci or whitehorse? just cause they’re fun

OH HECK SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. hopefully the length of this makes up for it.

so this one is jerome, burke, pratt, and whitehorse. the rest of the guns for hire + hudson (i have a special aside thing for her, and mostly i was burning out on this section) will be in a part 3, plus a few other NPCs like eli. :D

also, part 1! in case anyone hasn’t read it.

- - -

Jerome makes his guesses when the Deputy arrives in Fall’s End. And truthfully, how can an entire town suddenly liberate itself through the intercession of one save for divine intervention? He’s been praying about it whenever he has a moment to spare; prays for wisdom, prays for deliverance, prays that all will be well and restored to rights. Finally, finally, there is an answer to his prayers.

He tries not to think too hard on it as they’re piecing the town back together, wrenching plywood off windows, sweeping up rivers of broken glass, tending to the wounded, and what ever else needs to be done. These are his neighbors, his friends, and even though the word feels soured by Eden’s Gate, his flock. They come first, and his musing on the Deputy needs to be secondary. 

But he can’t help but wonder when he watches their hands when they apply a patch of gauze, or how they softly console those who grieve. Jerome has prayed for a miracle; the kind that would bring an end to all this suffering. And when prayers haven’t felt like enough, he’s taken up the sword even when the book of Matthew promised he would perish by it. 

Now with the Deputy there, he thinks. He guesses. And he doubts until he remembers that Thomas doubted and Peter denied. 

When the Deputy finally comes into the Spread Eagle, sweat dried on their skin, dirt forming freckles on their face, looking more human than a miracle should, Jerome doesn’t ask. It doesn’t feel like the right time, right when Fall’s End shakily gets back on its feet and tries a hand at normalcy. Instead, Jerome clasps hands with the Deputy in gratefulness, and thanks them with very human honesty.

“You helped a lot of people,” Jerome tells them quietly, once they have a moment to speak without everyone in the bar asking them for more help.

A shy smile spreads over their face, and they nod. “I know,” they say. 

And so does Jerome.

- - -

Burke doesn’t know until he’s in the Bliss. 

His legs carry him through the soft, shimmering green mist, and he follows Faith’s soft humming across fields shivering in a warm wind, down to trickling brooks of crystal clear water. He smiles when his hands brush over clusters of wildflowers, their petals perfect, their colors vibrant. 

In here, he’s happy. Nothing hurts; nothing bothers him. There’s no stress in the Bliss, no sense of looming deadlines or expectations. At some point, he hardly remembers his old life, and outright laughs when he looks down and sees his kevlar vest. It doesn’t have a use anymore, save for being a comfortable, familiar weight against his chest. Why did he resist what Faith offered him for so long? Why did he fight this? He can’t think of anything close to an answer, so he laughs and laughs. He hasn’t laughed like that in years.

And then, Faith’s singing stops. The stars in the Bliss seem to freeze in midair, shining uncertainly. Burke’s laughter dissipates like mist in the sun.

He watches as something moves in the distance, like a heat mirage dancing among the twisted shapes of a grove of oleanders. The shape resolves itself into something vaguely human-shaped, and Burke squints against the too-still Bliss to try to see what it could be. Vaguely, he registers what sounds like someone screaming, but for all he knows, it could be miles away.

Then, he sees.

The Bliss makes it a strange thing, beautiful in a way that only the Bliss could manage. The being is crowned in the twisted stars of white oleander blossoms, and their body is formed of twisting, flowering vines of what must be a hundred different species. Purple and blue flowers fall over them like robes, and orange and red blossoms hang from their shoulders like a cape. Their eyes are two enormous gold lilies, and their lips are made of snapdragons. When they breathe, Burke can smell freesia and lilac, which seem to cleanse the air of the rotting-sweet smell of the Bliss flowers.

“Cameron Burke,” says the thing–spirit? He isn’t sure what to call it. “Let me help you.”

He stares at it, watching their right hand (made of twisting grapevines) rise, and pink-violet alstroemerias shimmer outward from their fingertips. Under their hand, the Bliss cleaves in two, an earth-colored void yawning open and forcing the green haze away.

The screaming gets louder, turns into wails of agony. Burke just blinks in confusion, unsure, uncertain.

Then, the Bliss leaves him. It doesn’t just fade or trickle out of his head. It disappears. It’s gone like it was never there, leaving his head hollowed and his body aching at its loss. He staggers at the sensation, and looks up to see–

The Junior Deputy. Rook.

Burke almost cries at the sight of them.

They’re standing in a clearing at the edge of a copse of trees, a small creek burbling quietly beside them. It must be just after sunset, since there’s still some residual light that allows Burke to see them. 

“What–” he starts, but Rook quiets him by putting their hand on his shoulder, a much warmer, reassuring weight than the kevlar.

“Later,” they say. “Let’s get you somewhere safe, and I’ll explain everything.” 

Burke nods, and something inside of him (close to where that happiness was) tells him that it’s best to stay close beside them, that everything will be alright.

- - -

Pratt finds out in a way that feels a lot like being blindsided by a semi truck.

It’s only a few days after Jacob has all but disappeared from the Whitetails, and rumors have been flying about how Jacob must have been murdered, his body out rotting among the ferns and prairie grass. But no one comes to the bunker to reclaim it or blow it up, and even when the number of Peggies at the bunker gets lower by the day, Pratt can’t seem to force himself to leave it. It’s as if something has locked him in place, like Jacob’s placed an invisible chain around his ankle. He stays, staring at cement walls, listening to the low whine of fluorescent lighting, the repeated messages on loudspeakers that might as well be done in the voice of a ghost.

Then (and it might be three or four days; time is strange down here), there’s a cacophony of noise that erupts on the floor above him, and Pratt clenches his eyes shut, arms shaking at his sides. This is it. This is how it’s going to end. Some Peggie is going to come into the room and finally put a bullet through his head.

The bullet never comes.

“Pratt,” someone says. There are hands on his arms, gentle and warm. One hand goes up to his forehead and pushes his hair away from his face. “Staci. Hey. Hey.”

They stroke his hair, and he feels their thumb go over a cut above his eyebrow. 

Pratt finally opens his eyes.

He nearly hits the ceiling when he realizes he isn’t in the bunker anymore. He’s in a place he doesn’t recognize, save for that it looks like a prison. There are bars on the doors and bars on the windows, cots lined up against the walls; but there are also open boxes of pizza that smells so good that his stomach nearly lurches clear out of his body, and little trinkets scattered around like duck lamps and baseballs and those stupid singing mounted fish. Pratt nearly faints.

Rook (holy shit, Rook) catches him before he hits the floor, hoisting him up with their right shoulder before helping him walk to one of the empty cots. He falls onto it, wide-eyed, gasping for breath, looking around while his head spins and his entire body feels like it’s on a different axis than the rest of the world.

“What the fu–” he starts, coughs, licks his chapped, split lips, and tries again, “What the fuck?”

Rook kneels in front of him, smiling apologetically, of all things. “Sorry,” they say softly. For fuck’s sake, they sound like they’re trying to coax a pet out from under the bed. “I didn’t want to have to do that, but you’d be in there so long. I couldn’t think of anything else to do.”

“Where am I?” Pratt croaks, casting a weary look around.

“Hope County Jail,” Rook replies. 

The jail? That’s– Pratt can’t precisely think of how far away Jacob’s bunker would be from the jail, but the distance would be impossible to cross in under an hour, let alone a few seconds. 

He’s definitely going to faint.

Rook jumps up as Pratt lists hard to his left, their hand darting out to keep his head from hitting the metal frame of the cot. Vertigo seizes Pratt so hard that even if he had hit his head, he doesn’t think it would matter.

Somehow, Rook manages to maneuver him onto his back. They pull a thin linen sheet over him, and of all the stupid things to think, Pratt wonders at the smell of fresh laundry. He’s been so used to smelling every bodily fluid known that laundry of all things smells like heaven. His eyes close on their own volition, exhaustion and a headache dragging him low enough that it’s a wonder he hasn’t collapsed before that point.

“Rest,” he hears Rook say, but their voice sounds like it’s coming from another room. There’s a gentle pressure on his forehead, and the feeling of fingers stroking through his hair. “You earned it.”

Pratt falls asleep to Rook’s soft voice and the feeling of their hands. He dreams of walking over the tops of clouds, with a sky full of blinding starlight above his head.

- - -

Earl Whitehorse has seen a lot of things in his career that he can’t explain, and he knows better than to try. He’s seen people get mowed down by cars, only to get up and walk away like nothing happened. He’s seen little old ladies lift steel pipes off little kids. And he’s seen a quiet, polite man rise up to become a nightmarish cult leader, turning a picturesque western county into a warzone.

But he has never, never seen anything like Rook.

Maybe he should have known back when they were hired, how quickly they took to the job, seamlessly fitting themselves in with the ranks of Whitehorse’s most trusted. And hell, maybe he should have known in the church, when they cast him a quick look that was full of foreboding and concern.

Should we really be doing this? they seemed to ask.

God, he sure as hell hadn’t wanted to. He can’t even count how many times he’s asked himself if things would have been different if they had walked away.

And maybe he should have know when they escaped the burning wreckage of the helicopter, only to blaze a trail across the county in every cardinal direction, cleaning up a mess that’s been over a decade in the process. 

But it isn’t the battle between good and evil, or even so much as a skirmish that finally convinces Whitehorse that his guess is right. It’s a quiet moment at nearly one o’clock in the morning, right after Rook’s arrival and subsequent rescue of the jail.

It’s been a long day, full of no holds barred fighting and the added stress of trying to get the jail back up and fortified. Virgil and Tracey have been nearly running themselves into the floor trying to get things back together. Whitehorse has been barking orders until he thought his throat would go numb. And Rook has been delivering ammunition to the towers and walls, checking up on people, helping where they can.

By one in the morning, Rook and Whitehorse sit at one of the picnic tables outside in the courtyard, sipping at styrofoam cups of burnt coffee. Whitehorse hasn’t said much to Rook outside of a thank you and some orders. There hasn’t been time to get sentimental.

But now, he can see something in Rook’s face. It’s apprehension, maybe something like guilt. They shift around, adjusting weight, sipping at the coffee even though both of them need to rest up for tomorrow. 

Finally, enough is enough, and Whitehorse sighs. “Spit it out, Rook. You’ve obviously got something on your mind.”

Rook sits up straight like they’ve been reprimanded, their eyes wide. Then, they relax again, and look a little sheepish. “Sorry, Sheriff,” they say. “I just… I think there’s something wrong with me.”

Whitehorse doesn’t say a word or do so much as raise an eyebrow.

Rook grimaces. “Things have been so strange lately. I mean, aside from the obvious. But– Shit, you’re going to think I’m crazy.”

“No, Rook,” Whitehorse replies with a laugh. “I’ve seen crazy, and out here, I think anything goes.”

They offer him a weak smile, and take the opening where it’s offered. “It’s just, I can’t… I can’t die. I’ve been shot, literally shot so many times. And all of those shots should have killed me. One Peggie got me in the stomach with a .50 caliber bullet and I walked it off. I got stabbed in the neck in Holland Valley, and I got an arrow in my kidney up near Jacob’s.” They shrug helplessly, like being functionally immortal is something to apologize for; like it’s inconvenient. “And that’s not the weirdest part! Things just keep happening around me. Animals follow me around, and weird plants pop up. I swear to God, I watched a star move. Like, literally change position in the sky. And it wasn’t a satellite or anything.”

Whitehorse watches them get progressively more frantic. They start detailing the sort of people who talk to them, bring them gifts, cry in their presence, and how a hummingbird landed on their hand the other day. They talk about how a hive full of bees just started droning around their head, but pointedly avoided stinging them. By the time they talk about a woman who started crying at them in something that sounded like Hebrew, Whitehorse puts one hand up to stop them.

“Rook, I’m gonna tell you something right now,” he says, and Rook looks like they’re ready to get an earful about how, yes, they do sound absolutely out of their mind. He takes another swig of coffee before clearing his throat. “Listen, there has always been something different about you. I knew that back when you signed on. And whatever this is–” He gestures to all of them. “–probably won’t surprise me. You’ve got something special about you. Now, I can’t say for sure what it is, but I do know you’re using it for good. And as long as you keep that up, there’s nothing wrong with it or crazy about it.”

It might seem dismissive, but after the Seeds and the Bliss and everything else, Whitehorse thinks that Rook–whatever they actually are–is the best thing that can happen to them.

There’s a long silence that follows, full of the crackling of barrel fires and the soft orchestra of late summer crickets. Then, Rook smiles. 

Eventually, Whitehorse is sure he’ll find out the truth about Rook. Until then, there are a lot of people they can help, and the very real possibility that they can take the county back and fix what’s been done. For now, that’s what matters.