#greenhouse scene. enough said

[mistysgardenn]

currently feeling insane about foxxay

[basset-babe]

five times: the second.

pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!reader

warnings: unsolicited sexual advances

word count: 3.7k+

a/n: apologies for the late update! i've been sleeping in so bad lately lmao also, please do know that my writing isn't abided by the series' consecutive timeline bcs i just tend take away scenes and themes through s1 to s3 where it would make sense with the fic idea in my head, but all still well within the bridgerton series (S3 SPOILER! also i do not hold any grudge towards lady tilley arnold tho she is the rendezvous love interest of ben in s3, just made sense for me to add her here in this context) but nonetheless, please enjoy the 2nd! ciao belle!

five times series: the first. the one point five. the second. the third. the three point five. the fourth. at last.

spring divider from @thyming and, again, pattern banner from @cafekitsune thank you!

second time.

As the noon sun cast a bright glow over the sprawling estate gardens, Miss Y/N and Benedict strolled along the cobblestone path lined with vibrant blossoms and verdant foliage. The sweet fragrance of blooming flowers mingled with the earthy scent of freshly turned soil, creating an intoxicating bouquet that filled the air. Birds chirped melodiously from their perches in the ancient oaks, their songs adding a gentle soundtrack to the tranquil scene.

Miss Y/N paused by a bed of delicate gardenias, her fingers brushing lightly over the soft petals as she turned to Benedict with a teasing smile. "Have you no other plans than to spend your time watching me procure my plants, Benedict?" she asked, her tone light but her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Benedict, standing a few paces away with his hands casually tucked into his pockets, returned her smile with a warm, earnest expression. "Actually, I find great pleasure in keeping you company and wandering through your beautiful gardens," he replied, his gaze taking in the lush greenery and the kaleidoscope of flowers surrounding them. In truth, his heart swelled with affection for her, every moment spent in her presence a cherished gift.

A few steps behind, the chaperone lingered near a stone bench, her attention seemingly focused on the distant horizon. Although out of earshot, her presence was a reminder of propriety and decorum.

Miss Y/N sighed softly, her playful demeanor tinged with a hint of exasperation. "We are chaperoned! I mean, probably out of earshot but still," she said, shaking her head slightly as a wry smile curved her lips. "You and your subtle art of flirting."

Benedict chuckled, the sound low and pleasant. "Ah, but where's the harm in a little harmless flirtation amidst such beauty?" he replied, gesturing to the surrounding garden. "Besides, your company is far more captivating than anything." His words carried the weight of his burgeoning love, though he struggled to fully express the depth of his feelings.

As they continued their leisurely walk, the leaves rustled softly in the gentle breeze, and the world seemed to slow, allowing them a few precious moments of stolen intimacy amidst the natural splendor.

"My subtle art of flirting," he murmured, stepping closer and carefully looming over a bed of blooming roses. "Or perhaps it’s not so subtle after all."

She glanced up at him, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "I would say it’s as subtle as a peacock in a library."

"Ah, so it’s quite effective, then," he said, leaning in just enough to catch the gardenia’s sweet scent.

"You are impossible," she said, shaking her head but unable to hide her smile. "Even when you called on me, you've brought a grafted rose to plant, of all things!" She laughed fondly.

"Well, I thought it suited you," he said as his voice softened, casting her a glance full of admiration. "A growing thing of beauty, requiring patience, care, and attention." His heart pounded in his chest, the metaphor echoing his own feelings for her.

The sun glowed warm through the greenhouse window pane. Peering from the vines, the sunlight dawned and cascaded over Y/N, rendering her breathtaking in Benedict's eyes. The golden light danced on her hair, casting a halo-like aura that made her appear almost ethereal.

Her cheeks flushed a delicate shade of pink at his words. "For an artist, you do have a way with words, Benedict," she murmured, a soft smile playing at her lips as she averted her gaze.

Benedict, unable to resist the magnetic pull of the moment, reached out and gently touched a gardenia bloom, his fingers brushing against hers. The brief contact sent a subtle thrill through him, a spark of connection that felt both profound and delicate. "And I mean every one of them, you know," he said softly, his voice carrying the weight of sincerity and unspoken affection as their eyes met.

Y/N's breath caught slightly, her heart quickening in response. Her gloved hand now in his as he gently held it. The intensity of his gaze made her heart flutter, and for a moment, the world around them seemed to fade away. Her lady's maid, the estate, the very garden itself—all blurred into a distant background against the magnetic pull between them.

A gentle breeze stirred, carrying the intoxicating scent of gardenias and roses. Y/N's eyes widened slightly at the depth of emotion she saw in Benedict's eyes, a mixture of admiration and something deeper, something she dared not name yet. Her fingers, still intertwined with his, felt warm and comforting, a silent promise held in the delicate touch.

Her voice, barely above a whisper, broke the silence. "Benedict, do you ever, um, find yourself feeling, well, the same way I do in moments like these, when we're together?" Her eyes, tinged with vulnerability, flicked up to meet his, silently seeking a connection that transcended mere words.

Benedict's smile softened, his thumb lightly caressing the back of her hand as he leaned nearer to whisper, "Every moment with you, Your Grace," he said, his voice filled with a gentle ardor. "Your presence, Y/N, for if I revere you a dream, then I no longer wish to wake from my slumber."

Y/N's heart raced at his words, her cheeks flushing an even deeper shade of pink. She felt a rush of emotions, a blend of excitement and a tender vulnerability she had never experienced before. Her eyes widening in awe, "You speak as if I am something unattainable, a fragment of your mind," she said, a touch of playful skepticism in her tone.

Benedict's expression softened, nearing her as his gaze full of adoration. "Y/N," he murmured, his voice tender yet earnest, "you are not a fragment of my mind, nor are you unattainable. You are the very essence of my heart's desires, a beacon of light in a world of darkness." He reached out to gently cup her cheek, his touch conveying a depth of emotion beyond words. "To me, you are not just a dream, but the reality I never dared hope for. And I will spend every moment proving that to you, if you'll let me."

Meanwhile, the subtle clearing of her lady's maid's throat, positioned at a respectable distance, acted as a genteel nudge to observe the proprieties of their setting.

"Um, I, uh, apologize, Your Grace," Benedict murmured, his cheeks tinted with a shy flush as he took a small, hesitant step back, seemingly unsure of where to place his hands. "I… erm, it seems I, uh, forgot to, um, maintain my distance. Please forgive me," he added softly, his voice trailing off with a hint of uncertainty. "I, um, really didn't mean to, uh, make you uncomfortable." His eyes, a mix of nervousness and sincerity, briefly met hers before darting away, as if seeking refuge in the nearby foliage. "I'm, um, deeply sorry if I, you know, overstepped," he continued, his tone laced with a sheepish awkwardness as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, unable to find a comfortable stance. "I… I suppose I just, er, got a bit carried away in the moment."

Y/N's cheeks flushed deeper as she felt a rush of embarrassment mingled with amusement at Benedict's sheepish apology. She averted her gaze momentarily, suppressing a nervous giggle before meeting his eyes, she reached out to gently place a hand on his arm. "Oh, Benedict," she began, her voice soft with a hint of laughter, "there's no need to apologize. I… I must admit, I too got carried away in the moment." She glanced around, half-panicked that someone might have witnessed their closeness, but finding the situation more humorous than anything. "It seems we both found ourselves swept up in the enchantment of the garden," she added with a playful wink, her laughter bubbling forth despite her attempts to compose herself.

Benedict let out a sigh of relief, his shoulders relaxing as he returned to a more respectable distance from Y/N. He couldn't help but smile at her laughter, finding solace in her lighthearted response. "Indeed, it appears the garden has a way of enchanting us both," he agreed with a soft chuckle, his gaze lingering on her with fondness. "I guess we ought to keep a closer eye on decorum," he mused with a rueful grin, a playful glint dancing in his eyes.

Benedict entered his studio at the esteemed art academy with a purposeful stride, the faint aroma of charcoal and linseed oil pervading his senses as he stepped within. The grand wooden door emitted a gentle creak as he pushed it open, revealing a space that, while seemingly cluttered, held a unique order characteristic of an artist's domain. It's been days since Mr. Bridgerton had paid visit to Miss Y/N; days since his apparent confession unreturned with an answer, hoping of the most favored "yes".

The studio was suffused with the soft, diffused light of late afternoon, filtering through tall, dust-laden windows. Easels stood in solemn ranks, each bearing sketches and paintings in various stages of completion. The floor was a canvas in itself, adorned with a mosaic of paint splatters and crumpled sheets of paper, silent testament to his countless hours of diligent work.

His gaze was inexorably drawn to the central easel, where his latest sketches of Miss Y/N awaited his discerning eye. Countless hours had been devoted to capturing her likeness, her features indelibly etched into his memory and transposed onto the canvas from myriad angles. The delicate curve of her jawline, the subtle arch of her brows, the enigmatic depths of her eyes—each sketch narrated a different story, a moment either observed or conjured from his imagination.

Benedict set down his leather satchel upon a nearby stool, extracting a well-worn sketchbook and a selection of fine graphite pencils. He approached the easel with a sense of reverence, as one might approach a sanctified space. The quietude of the studio enveloped him, disrupted only by the distant murmur of the academy's other activities.

As he perched upon the high stool before the easel, he paused momentarily, allowing his thoughts to drift back to his latest sitting with Miss Y/N. He recalled the play of light upon her hair, the subtle shifts in her expression as her thoughts wandered. With a deep, steadying breath, he took up a pencil, its familiar weight a comfort in his hand, and resumed his sketching. He became immersed once more in the intricate dance of lines and shadows, bringing her presence to vivid life upon the paper.

As he worked, Benedict would lose himself in the intricacies of her likeness, his mind consumed by the challenge of translating her beauty onto paper. Every stroke of his pencil would be deliberate, every line a reflection of his perception of her essence.

In this intimate space, surrounded by the tangible evidence of his devotion, Benedict would pour his heart and soul into each etch, striving to capture the true spirit of Miss Y/N with every stroke of his pencil.

"Someone seems smitten, don't you think, brother?" Anthony's teasing voice broke through Benedict's intent stare as he drew, jolting him out of his reverie. A faint blush tinged Benedict's cheeks as he glanced up, his hand pausing mid-stroke.

Benedict's older brother stood in the doorway, a playful smirk playing on his lips as he observed the tableau before him. Benedict chuckled softly, the sound carrying a hint of embarrassment. "I'm merely capturing her likeness as an artist," he protested, though the affection in his gaze betrayed his true feelings.

Anthony's grin widened, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Of course, dear brother," he replied, his tone dripping with amusement. "But one might argue that your portraits of Miss Y/N are a tad... shall we say, inspired?"

Benedict rolled his eyes good-naturedly, a fond smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Perhaps," he conceded, returning his attention to the paper before him. "But can you blame me? She's quite the muse."

With a knowing laugh, Anthony stepped further into the studio, his presence injecting a sense of levity into the room. "Indeed she is," he agreed, his gaze drifting to the scattered sketches of Miss Y/N that adorned the walls. "But do try not to get too lost in your musings, brother. The real Miss Y/N might start to wonder what's keeping you so occupied."

Benedict nodded, a wry smile playing on his lips. "Point taken," he said, his focus returning to his work. But as he etched his pencil into the paper once more, his thoughts inevitably drifted back to the enigmatic woman who had captured his imagination—and his heart.

"Oh, and a letter arrived. It's for you," Anthony handed as sealed letter, "from a Lady Tilley Arnold. Seems urgent." Benedict stopped as he looked at his older brother whose held a knowing look. "I am not one to pry for I am one with your contentment, brother, but it seems you have unfinished business?"

"It is not what you are implying, brother. We are done. Lady Arnold had bid me done then. It is probably purely audience." Benedict replied focusing back to his work.

"Then I shall leave you to it, brother." Anthony left the letter on the stool and stepped out the studio closing the door, leaving his brother with his thoughts.

After his brother's departure, Benedict found himself unable to shake the lingering thoughts about why Lady Arnold had sought his audience. Their relationship had long evolved beyond the realms of a passionate love affair, and any such intimacies had faded into the past. Instead, he now saw himself as a respectable bachelor, poised to fulfill his societal obligations and perhaps find a suitable wife.

Despite this unexpected shift in their dynamics, the unexpected summons from Lady Arnold had stirred a curious blend of nostalgia and apprehension within him, prompting him to ponder the nature of their current connection.

As Benedict retired to his townhouse for the evening, his mind buzzed with conflicting thoughts about the impending meeting with Lady Arnold. While he harbored no romantic, nor amorous, feelings for her, the prospect of their encounter tomorrow left him feeling decidedly uneasy. After all, he had been actively courting Miss Y/N, and the mere notion of being seen with Lady Arnold had the potential to ignite scandalous gossip.

But then a knock sounded. In the dimly lit parlor of Benedict's townhouse, a cloaked woman stood before him, an air of melancholy clinging to the elegant form. "Lady Arnold, good evening! Do come in." He moved aside as the women entered. "To what do I owe--" He was cut off as Lady Tilley spoke, her expression tinged with a mix of determination and vulnerability. "Benedict, I sought you out because I'm leaving London soon. I wanted to bid you farewell before I go."

Benedict nodded politely, though a flicker of curiosity danced in his eyes. "Of course, Lady Arnold. It's kind of you to say goodbye."

But as their conversation unfolded, Benedict couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Lady Arnold's visit than a simple farewell. Her demeanor seemed to betray an underlying tension, a sense of urgency that belied the pleasantries of their exchange.

"Lady Arnold," Benedict began, his voice laced with a hint of concern, "is everything alright? You seem... troubled."

Lady Arnold hesitated for a moment, her gaze flickering uncertainly before she squared her shoulders, as if steeling herself for what was to come. "Benedict, there's something I need to tell you," she confessed, her tone serious. "Something I've been meaning to say for quite some time." Taking a deep breath, she forged ahead, her words measured yet tinged with emotion. "I... I've realized that I can't bear the thought of leaving without expressing how I truly feel."

Benedict's eyes widened in surprise, his mind racing to comprehend the implications of her confession. "How you feel?" he echoed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lady Arnold nodded, her gaze unwavering as she held his gaze. "Yes, Benedict. I know the risks of me being seen here in your residence but it seems that you have not responded to my correspondence... I have come here to say that I've been thinking about us, about our past, and... I can't deny that I still feel something between us."

Benedict's mind flew to the letter he placed on his desk earlier the night he reached his townhouse. He didn't even want to open it knowing what it could contain. A rakish past he, quite possibly, no longer wants to open. Benedict, then, felt a wave of nostalgia wash over him, memories of their shared history flooding back with startling clarity. Yet, beneath the surface, a sense of unease gnawed at him, a silent reminder of the boundaries he had vowed to uphold.

"Tilley," he began tentatively, his words hesitant as he struggled to find the right response. "I… I'm not sure what you mean. Our past is just that, the past."

But Lady Arnold was undeterred, her resolve unwavering as she leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "But what if it doesn't have to be? What if we could recapture the passion we once shared?"

Benedict's heart quickened at her words, torn between the allure of nostalgia and the reality of his present circumstances. "I... I don't know, Tilley," he admitted, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "Things have changed. I've changed."

Undeterred, Lady Arnold reached out to touch his hand, her touch soft and pleading. "Benedict, please. Don't you remember how good it used to be? Just one last time, before I leave."

Benedict felt a surge of conflicting emotions welling up inside him, his mind spinning with indecision. "I… I can't," he finally answered removing his hand from hers, his voice heavy with his conscience. "It wouldn't be right, just like you decided."

Lady Arnold's eyes gleamed with a mixture of longing and sorrow as she looked at Benedict. "Do you remember, Benedict," she began, her voice soft yet laden with emotion, "those nights we shared? How the world seemed to disappear when we were together? Every stolen moment, every secret touch… it was as if time stood still just for us." She took a step closer, her gaze never wavering. "The way we used to laugh, our whispers filling the darkness with promises only we understood. We explored each other's souls and bodies with such intensity, such reckless abandon. Every touch was a symphony, every kiss a sonnet. Our passion burned so bright, like a flame that could never be extinguished."

Her voice faltered slightly, a wistful smile playing on her lips. "We were invincible then, weren’t we? Bound by nothing but our own desires. It was a love that consumed us, left us breathless and wanting more. Even now, I can feel the echoes of those nights, the way your touch could ignite something deep within me, a fire that no one else could ever hope to spark."

She spoke of memories shared, of passion ignited long ago, and hinted at desires yet unfulfilled. Despite his best efforts to maintain composure, Benedict found himself ensnared by her magnetic presence, a faint echo of their past intimacy stirring within him as she caressed his jaw.

As the tension between them reached its zenith, Lady Arnold's advances became bolder, her fingers trailing lightly along the curve of Benedict's jawline as she leaned in for a kiss. For a fleeting moment, their lips met in a passionate embrace, igniting a spark of longing that threatened to engulf them both.

But as quickly as it began, Benedict pulled away, a confused expression clouding his features. "I am afraid it has ended," he murmured, his voice thick with regret. "This... it no longer feels right." His words hung heavy in the air.

Lady Arnold's expression softened, a hint of sadness clouding her eyes. "I know things have changed, Benedict. We have changed. But those memories... they still linger. A testament to what we once shared, a rendezvous that defied everything and everyone."

She reached out, her fingers grazing his hand. "Tell me you remember, Benedict. Tell me that those moments meant as much to you as they did to me."

Benedict felt a lump form in his throat as Lady Arnold's words washed over him. Her memories mirrored his own, a testament to the bond they had once shared. He swallowed hard, trying to find the right words to respond.

"Of course I remember," he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. "Those moments were among the most exhilarating experiences of my life. We had an affair, some rendezvous that was."

Lady Arnold's eyes softened at his confession, a flicker of hope igniting within them. "Then why can't we have it again, Benedict? Just one last time, before I leave. Let me carry that memory with me."

Benedict sighed, "Because things are different now," he said gently. "Our lives have moved on. What we had was rousing, but it's part of a past that no longer exists."

Lady Arnold's expression crumpled slightly, her hope waning. "But why?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "Why can't we hold onto it, just for a little while longer?"

Benedict took her hand in his, his touch both firm and tender. "Because it wouldn't be fair to either of us," he replied softly. "I can't give you whatever temporary high you want, not when my heart belongs to someone else now. It would be a lie, a betrayal of what we both deserve."

Tears shimmered in Lady Arnold's eyes as she listened to his words. "I understand," she said finally, her voice barely audible. "I just... I had to try."

Benedict squeezed her hand gently before letting go. "I know," he said. "And I'm grateful for what we shared, Tilley, truly. But we both need to move forward, to find happiness in the lives we've chosen. You know it, this cannot be."

Lady Arnold nodded, her shoulders sagging with resignation. "I suppose this is goodbye then," she murmured, a wistful smile tugging at her lips.

"Yes," Benedict agreed, his voice tender. "Goodbye, Lady Arnold. I wish you all the best."

With a final, lingering glance, Lady Arnold turned and walked away, leaving Benedict standing alone in the dimly lit parlor. As the door closed behind her, he felt a profound sense of closure, mingled with the bittersweet pang of lost love. He knew he had made the right decision, but the echoes of their past would remain with him, a poignant reminder of a passion that had once burned so brightly.

taglist: @novausstuff // @pussyslayerhd // @amoosarte // @jupitervenusearthmars

again, please do send me a message or comment down if you would like to be added on the succeeding taglists for the five times series!

[ennn]

The kiss did kill Agatha but it was because she made it happen. "That's cute, but you know that [absorbing Rio's powers] would kill me" they had that line for a reason and having the line again on the previously on was to remind the audience of that. So a normal agathario kiss wouldn't cause death, but Agatha actually absorbing Rio's powers while kissing definitely would.

That being said, I agree with all the things you highlighted that you liked. May I ask which things you would've done different or didn't love as much, maybe?

Also, from the most neutral point of view, do you think Agatha still loves Rio? Did she ever?

I agree with that read! Note: this also means Rio would have needed to let her magic go into Agatha. Agatha can only take when blasted with magic, not by touching people, so Rio was aware she was killing her but it was Agatha's choice to take it on the mouth

Ooh good questions, time to play editor / script doctor for a bit. This is probably going to be long... and can be negative so I'm keeping it under a cut.

Things I did not love / would have done differently — not comprehensive — just off the top of my head:

For the love of god use a different ghost SFX. I hate the current one with the fire of 10,000 suns. It makes it hard to see the actor's performance, their outfit, and it messes with their body language as well. Outside the fantastical reality of the Road, it's too distracting.

Burn that white-grey wig for ghost!Agatha. Between this and the SFX I was struggling to focus on the scenes and their pathos. I think Episode 5 wasn't so bad because Evanora didn't really do much except float around in a smock and say some mean lines but Agatha's moving around, talking a lot, and trying to land some emotional beats.

The whole showdown in the garden feels weird to me, and I think you can tell that they only Aubrey Plaza for a limited time: she barely seems to be in the same frame except for the kiss? I suspect that's why we have shots focused on Billy hitting the greenhouse, Death on the house, and a very very short magical fight. You also don't get proper reactions from Rio on what could have been a couple of revealing beats like when Agatha initially offers Billy up and walks away.

The big one: I'm not convinced Agatha had a proper arc here. If it was planned I don't think it landed for me. You get a hint of Agatha making some peace with how death just happens at the end of the earth trial: "Sometimes boys die" – beautiful moment -– but it doesn't seem to follow through? Yes, she ultimately makes a choice that allows Rio to continue pursuing her (because Rio would have kept her word if Agatha handed Billy over). But coming to terms with her grief and Nicky's death? Has she forgiven Rio? Has she forgiven herself? It feels unresolved to me imho.

Agatha being protective of Billy is... some development I guess but she was already instinctively protective of him in like Episode 3, and by then she already knew he wasn't Nicky. I needed more growth from Agatha, I think?

I'm not sure about the whole mental messaging power of Billy's. Is it supposed to imply he's also reading Agatha's mind? Did he not say it out loud because then we'd have to get a reaction from Rio and Plaza isn't available?

Cast a younger kid for Nicky lol. I know there are production limitations but to me that kid looks too old for a 6-7 year old. Is it just me? I don't usually hang out with kids.

Streamline the flashbacks with Agatha and Nicky. We get it: she loves him, it's their song, he's not a fan of the murdering, he dies. I'd fit in a scene (it can be a short one) to underline how Rio did care about Nicky (she visits him?) and show Agatha having conflicting feelings about loving but fearing Death.

In an ideal world, not have Billy in his superhero outfit because that should have had some build-up for a reveal. I know it's Marvel and they need to sell merch and stuff but there really was enough stuff going on and how the hell did Billy get that suit anyway? The crown I can overlook but the rest is weird to me. --

For your last question about Agatha loving Rio I'll tackle it in another Anon Ask coming up that's similar!

[lactosa2]

Yep, another of Omen bc im in love

STANDING ON BUISSNES

5:34 AM

You were in the kitchen preparing something to eat when you felt a hand on your shoulder, the sudden contact in the middle of the darkness made you jump and look back in shock, you laughed softly with a hand on your chest while Omen looked at you confused.

"Omen…" you whispered with a small laugh of relief and swallowed, standing up straight and waiting for him to say something, which he didn't. "What happened?" You asked and looked at him calmer, knowing that he wouldn't bother you for anything.

He didn't respond, he was too embarrassed to speak or declare himself, he just wanted you, as always, to read his mind and support him, your hand grabbed his in silence and then you nodded, he didn't let you let go of his hand and took you to the room. another section of the base, where his bonsai was located

Once there you yawned and sat in the nearest chair, letting go of his hand. "So… Cypher is still charging you?" You asked, your voice quiet and sleepy.

For a long time, Omen had been begging Cypher to help him discover his past, it was not until Iso appeared in the scene that Cypher agreed, only with the condition that Omen would have to pay him an absurd amount, the main problem, Omen did not He really has income, the supplies for weaving were a gift from Sage and the bonsai is part of the protocol greenhouse, only it is under his personal care, unlike the others, Omen was not human nor did he cover basic needs, therefore he never They gave him a salary, now it is a bigger problem

"I don't know what I'll do…" he whispered embarrassedly as he focused on his bonsai, he didn't change it but he did stare at it, clinging to those thin branches, with the only hope that everything would be okay. "Think positive, he couldn't kill you," you said, trying to joke as you got up from the chair and walked over to him, your hand caressing his shoulder.

"How much is it?" You whispered with a serious voice - "You're not going to-" Omen tried to protest but you interrupted him, "how much" he remained silent, you knew he wouldn't let you pay for him, you knew he felt ashamed of not having a salary as such, And although he had it, it was still not enough, and at the rate of his income it would never be.

"120,000 credits" he said with a low voice, you were surprised and gasped in disbelief why Cypher would charge him so much, you didn't complain, but you took a deep breath and nodded. "I'll deposit it for you tomorrow," Omen's body language froze, not believing that you would pay his debt for him. "You don't have to," he complained and turned around standing upright, looking intimidating because of how tall he is. (yummy)

"just accepts that I'm going to do this for you" you wanted to explain to him that you appreciated his friendship and would help him, but you understood that it would be difficult for him to believe only in words. You once told him that you would do anything for him, and a number is no obstacle to promises, and he needed actions.

He nodded shyly, your hand went to the side of what would be his face, his aura was calmer and more relaxed, without warning, Omen brought both arms around your torso and hid his head in your shoulder, pressing you against him. . You didn't complain, you just laughed softly and hugged him back, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

"Your rice burned," Omen whispered in your ear as the smoke alarm began to sound throughout most of the base. "I know," you whispered back, laughing softly when he held you close to him.

[marinettesaltprompts]

Cat in the Belfry (Part 1)

Adribaten x Gotham City Sirens

Prompt by @somereaderinblue

OP NOTE: I got sent this prompt but posted them in the wrong order. Sorry😅

Instead of Marinette/LB going to Gotham & finding the Batfam, what if Adrien did it instead? So, Fu & LB continue to leave CN out of the loop. Their partnership deteriorates thanks to secrets, miscommunication & the whole Lila dilemma. In their civilian life, Mari’s already written Adrien off as a ‘traitor’ & gives him the cold shoulder whenever he tries to be civil or offer some modicum of support outside of class. One day, CN tries to ask LB if she’s made any headway on HM’s ID & she blows up on him, ranting abt how stressed she is from her responsibilities as the Guardian, hero & team leader and verbally attacking him, calling him a bad hero, a worse sidekick & a nuisance. 

CN is hurt. He’s dialed back on the flirting, esp after Plagg gave a stern talk abt boundaries when Lila went too far. He fires back at LB that she wouldn’t be so stressed if she let him help only for her to once again remind him of all his shortcomings. They go back & forth until LB just yoyos away.

Adrien decides that if she won’t let him help her, he’ll do it on his own. Instead of hiring a normal PI, he takes it a step further: tracking down the Bat Family themselves. The fact that his dad is going on a business trip to Gotham soon is the perfect opportunity.

He tells LB he’ll be absent. She scoffs, unsurprised that he’s ‘slacking off’ & smugly says she’ll get the temps to fill in for him. At least they know how to do their jobs & respect her leadership. Instead of anger or jealousy, CN just feels….pity. And worry the more he imagines the temps doing what he does: being the distractions at best & meatshields at worst.

He has to find the Batfam ASAP.

Here’s where some deconstruction kicks in. He tells himself he’ll wait for the Batfam to show up at a crime scene. While looking for said scene, he stumbles upon Catwoman who’s fighting with Penguin over a relic both of them want to steal. CN intervenes to save the relic & can’t help but save Catwoman too. Then the cherry on top comes: Firefly who decides to burn the place down bcz clearly someone has to die tonight.

Luckily, before CN could lose 1 of his 9 lives, Harley & Ivy arrive as Catwoman’s getaway & CN is brought along for the ride. Cue a car chase that’s intense enough to push CN into unlocking a new ability: Black Storm. Plagg is so proud.

And that’s how CN found himself sitting in Ivy’s greenhouse, stroking Bud & Lou while Harley demands Selina explain who how when & where she got her new stray. Sipping Ivy’s herbal tea, he awkwardly clears his throat & reveals he’s looking for the Batfam. Harley continues to prod until CN ends up telling her everything.

“You must think I’m crazy.” he says at the end….only to remember he’s talking to Harley Quinn & 2 other women who were born in Gotham and bred to bleed for it.

This leads to some research & after seeing footage of the fights and more concerningly, the imbalanced power dynamic, Harley asks CN more questions that confirm their worst fears: that he’s unknowingly being abused & worse, has likely been abused before he put on the mask. 

It’s a bitter pill to swallow, but the Sirens show him more support than he’s gotten since Plagg. It’s already 5 AM but those hours he’s spent with them got months worth of stress off his chest. Sadly, all things must come to an end & he reluctantly prepares to leave.

S: Are you still going to look for the Bats?

CN: I have to try. 

S: Wait, you told us Hawkmoth’s source of power is a piece of jewelry, right?

CN: Yeah, a brooch. Why?

Selina gives him a cheshire grin & he realizes that detectives could solve mysteries but thieves could steal jewelry. Plus, Selina loved a challenge & what could possibly be bigger than magical jewelry? Payment-wise, Adrien had already accumulated some Gabriel accessories to pawn off. Also, compared to the vigilantes, Selina has more freedom to leave Gotham.

(Selina would also be lying if she said she wasn’t a little bit tempted to see more of CN’s potential.)

And thus, Selina books a ticket to Paris. Oh, and Harley & Ivy come too. Time to psychoanalyze the hell out of the Parisians & check out the gardens.

[darkscorpiox]

Utena - Analysis on the opening

I don’t know if someone has already done it, but here’s my interpretation of the opening.

Warning: very, VERY long post and mention of scenes from the show, enough to be considered spoilers (sorry 😅)

Edit: I’ve made an analysis on the first ending as well

Let’s live heroically, let’s live with style. (Just a long, long time.)

The opening starts with our two main characters naked and in a fetal position, indicating their status of “newborn” in the story. Then, they are clad in the garbs of their respective roles. Interestingly, despite facing and leaning toward each other, their eyes remain close. In the case of Utena, it symbolizes her inability to see beyond her own narrative of the heroic prince saving the princess. As for Anthy, it’s her resignation to not see anything beyond her role of Rose Bride which she has played for decades/centuries, hence the long, long time.

Even if the two of us are torn apart… (Let go of me…) …take my revolution.

In the next sequence, not only are they not looking at each other, but they are also back-to-back, another indication that they are positioned to be at odds with each other, whether they want to or not. Still, despite the obstacles thrown at them, despite Anthy’s attempts to make Utena give up on her (“Let go of me…”), the latter doesn’t stop telling her to take her hand (revolution) and that’s what she did.

In the sunlit garden, we both joined out hands.

Miki’s sunlit garden is an idealized memory, so it makes sense to compare Utena’s goal of becoming a prince to the former. Also, the tower, where her journey is supposed to end with her heteronormative “happily ever after”, is where she and Anthy join hands and the latter’s revolution begins.

The sequence where Utena walks with the male students has a “one of the boys” kind of vibe and that might have been the intent. The tomboy character may appear progressive by refusing to conform to traditionally feminine gender norms, but that’s instead a sexist concept because it implies that Utena’s gender, her femininity (and by association, anything branded as “girly”), is the one thing that makes her less than her fellow male schoolmates. Also, she looks over her shoulder, something or someone (Anthy?) catching her attention which stops her from blindly following the other boys’ lead.

Drawing close for comfort, we both swore…

In Anthy’s case, due to her hair and skin color, the vibe she emanates as she walks with her fellow female schoolmates is “not like other girls”, another trope which hurts women by marginalizing the few “different/special ones” from the “normal/average ones” or vice versa. However, the reason she turned around (Utena? Her perspicacity?) is what helps her preserve the part of her identity which is still deep within her. So being different isn’t a bad thing as long as every person, especially girls, are given the same courtesy.

If you read the Japanese lyrics, you would know chikai (from chikau, meaning “to swear/vow”) is at the beginning of Anthy’s sequence, when we see the gates of Ohtori, where she swears to find Utena again.

(Also, did you notice that their respective sequences begin with a shot of where their story in Ohtori ends?)

…never again would we ever fall in love. (Every time.)

This line is sung as our two protagonists stand face to face in Anthy’s cage-like greenhouse, where the cycle of the quest for revolution always (re)starts. That vow of never falling in love again, along with that Every time, makes me wonder about how many games had taken place before Utena. How many times had Anthy been engaged to a “chosen one”? How many of those “chosen ones” did she grow to love, yet still choose to betray? How many times did she swore to never love another again only to do so despite said promise to herself? Utena, by ending the cycle, makes the vow mentioned before much sweeter: she and Anthy choose to never fall in love again because they have pledged their love for each other till death do them part (like a married couple 🥰🤵🏻‍♀️👰🏾‍♀️🥰).

I see that photo of us standing cheek to cheek… …and place a bit of my loneliness in our smiles. (Revolution!)

At this moment, the past represented by Utena and Anthy lying down, facing each other, and the future represented by the lyrics paralleled each other.

Past: a (naively) smiling Utena and a (falsely) smiling Anthy -> Anthy gives the white rose, the symbol of the Prince and by association, patriarchy, the source of her eternal pain, to Utena who is unaware of the dark history connected to it -> (failed) Revolution by dueling (transition to the dueling arena)

Future: the photo at the end of Episode 39 -> Anthy’s longing for Utena -> (successful) Revolution by leaving Akio

Even if I dream, even if I cry, even if I get hurt… …reality keeps on coming recklessly.

This sequence is about the Duelists.

Utena being the one who dreams is self-explanatory.

Saionji, if you pause at the right time, is seen with tears in his eyes. Behind his arrogant attitude is nothing but a mentally weak and insecure boy who throws violent tantrums when things don’t go his way.

Juri is no doubt the one most hurt in the series, not only because of her gender, but also because of her sexual orientation (I’ve made a post about it).

Miki and Nanami being the ones hit by reality makes sense due to the knowledge they idealize the relationship they shared with their respective siblings when they were children.

But what about Touga? Maybe it’s the confidence that he could get the power to revolutionize the (his) world if he emulates the system which had hurt him only to realize that such way of doing things won’t get him closer to his goal. Or, since he’s the first antagonist of the show, giving us a taste of what Akio, another male character whose inside is the opposite of his princely front, could do to girls, maybe he represents the reality/truth of the (imperfect) world.

All these Duelists, these teenagers, fight each other for a purpose and that later turns out to be futile after they find out that the rules they play by are a cover for a much more sinister plot.

I wanna find my own place, the value of being…

The first half, we focus on Utena who raises her sword with a determined look as the blue sky turned golden and the dueling arena crumbled. Utena rejects the narrative Akio wants for her and in the process, breaks the world he has created (and kept Anthy in).

While we zoom in on Utena, symbolizing her will to move forward, it’s the opposite with Anthy. Expression blank, she put some distance between her and Utena/the viewer(s), letting herself (her true self) disappear with Akio’s self-made world.

This sequence foreshadows what will happen in Episode 38.

…the person I’ve been until now…

But as it is shown in Episode 39, Anthy didn’t disappear in the fall of Akio’s world and stood up against her brother (riding a horse), mirroring Utena.

Also, we see Dios opens his eyes as the dueling arena crumbles to dust.

In Episode 13, Akio is conversing with a “sealed” Dios who “glare[s] at” him for wanting to bring the Prince back into the world. Dios had been “sealed away” because playing Prince had been killing him. Anthy had become the world’s sole target of their hatred so that he would no longer carry that great burden on his shoulders ever again. Dios is angry at Akio for not only trying to turn her sacrifice into a fruitless endeavor, but for also taking part in her eternal torment by making her an accomplice in his scheme.

Akio has internalized the teachings of patriarchy. He now idealizes the Prince, forgetting that his current self isn’t the result of Anthy sealing the latter’s power away. He had, of his own volition, casted away his “nobility” and enjoyed the privileges of his gender. He was free of the duties expected from the Prince yet chose to not use that freedom to search for a way to save his sister without taking on that mantle again. Protected by a patriarchal system, Akio is in fact afraid of carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders again despite his desire to return to his “glory days”. He wants to be the Prince again (regression), but also doesn’t want to give up his life of privilege. There is no step toward self-improvement. And that’s why his quest for revolution is nothing but a pretext to play people like a fiddle, especially the vulnerable ones like children and women. I think he subconsciously knows he’s maintaining a perpetual cycle meant to end in failure, but he’s too lost in his self-centeredness to take a third option, to destroy the limits of his coffin. In other words, Akio must let patriarchy (manifested through the game and the dueling arena) disappear in order to regain the lost part of him that is Dios, because what the latter really wants is to live in a better world, one where Princes aren’t needed anymore.

Let’s find the strength to throw it all away. Strip down to nothing all.

Utena having the strength to throw everything away references her decision to give up on the heteronormative “happy ending” given to her at the cost of Anthy’s well-being.

Anthy being stripped of everything references her true (naked) self within her coffin.

Become like rose petals, blowing free!

Honestly, that part was a bit difficult to interpret. We do see petals blown in the wind when Utena beats boys at basketball, but the only time I saw them concerning Anthy (and by association, the duels) was when the Duelist gets “deflowered”, and I didn’t get a feeling of freedom from it. Or so I thought at first. Knowing that the duels are part of Akio’s plot which is nothing but a wild goose chase, it makes sense in the context that losing means some time away from Akio’s control and thus, a chance to reflect and for self-improvement. Also, if the dueling arena is like a groomed flower, then its rubble is the petals. This might be foreshadowed in Episode 9, when Anthy falls with rose petals scattered everywhere as Utena tries to catch her.

Even if the two of us are torn apart… …I swear that I will change the world.

We have a return of Even if the two of us are torn apart… (Let go of me…) / …take my revolution. This time, there’s no request to let go of the other party and Utena is taking the next step toward (self-)improvement. If you pause at the right time, you can see she is not in a fetal position like at the beginning of the opening. Now, it looks like she is opening herself to the real world.

Anthy is not present, but that’s because she hasn’t reunited with Utena yet. Until that day comes, the latter will keep fighting for the world both deserve to live in.

In conclusion, the opening is a summary of the entire series and foreshadows how it would end.

[turbulentscrawl]

Luchilyne Snippets

Just some various scenes of Luchino x my Oc, Evelyne again! This will most likely be the last I share of them as these snippets themselves are a bit old and I haven't made much more for them...but I hope you enjoy! Once again, you're welcome to imagine this as reader insert instead.

No NSFW, but it's under the cut for length.

warnings: mentions of body horror, crude language, hints at cannibalism

A Meal

There was meat on her plate.

Evelyne knew it by the meal’s presentation, but she couldn't ascertain exactly what kind. It was smothered in some kind of fragrant sauce, which blocked the color and smell. The shape could be anything. She needed to cut into it to see the texture…. She ought to.

She ought to do something, she thought, before everyone noticed her hesitation, her shiftiness, the haunted expression she knew she wasn't hiding well.

She began reaching for her silverware, hands cold and weak, but before she picked them up another knife and fork appeared in front of her. Evelyne felt herself seize as they pressed into the mystery meat and cut. And cut. And cut. It was split into several thin rows before being pressed sideways, exposing the white flesh inside. She released a breath she hadn't known she was holding. The fork took a piece from her plate, and she followed its journey to the Professor sat next to her, who fearlessly ate it.

Luchino chewed thoughtfully, and whispered when he'd swallowed it, “It's chicken.”

Chicken, she repeated internally as she watched Luchino return to his own meal and conversation, unbothered. She supposed she could trust that.

Uneventful Company

“What's this?” Evelyne asked, looking over the small spread in the greenhouse. There was a cloth over the metal table, and a tray with two glasses, a filled pitcher, and an assortment of snacks. The room was warm and herbal like ozone. The evening sun tinted the room faintly orange. She and Luchino were the only ones there too, it seemed, and how he had gotten Emma Woods away from her garden she could only guess.

“Iced tea,” Luchino says, lifting his filled glass to look at it curiously. “I've been told you won't drink it hot, though if I'm being honest I find this a bit odd.”

“Did you add any sugar before it cooled?” Evelyne asked while walking over. She reached for the pitcher, but Luchino grabbed it first and filled the other glass. She took a curious sip.

“A bit,” he replied. “I don't care for it being overly sweet, myself.”

“Try a bit of fresh lemon next time,” she suggests, taking a seat in the opposite chair. “But you didn't answer my question.”

“We're sharing some tea and conversation,” he said, smirking. “Were you expecting something else?”

She was, in truth. She had spent several occasions now with the professor in his bed. And on his desk, in the smoke room…. They socialized during the day, too, but her point was that all their alone time up to this point had been spent in debauchery. (And somehow still not frequently enough for Evelyne’s liking. Luchino had been true to his word, when he said he'd ruin any other man for her. And yet he often promised his pleasures to others as well.) She knew that he knew that, too.

“We've never done this before,” she mutters against the rim of her glass.

“There's a first time for everything,” he says. “May I be blunt?”

“I much prefer when you are,” Evelyne said. Luchino quirked an eyebrow, looking amused and pleased.

“I've seen your behaviors changing faintly, as of late. I'm now under the impression that you require comfort deeper than my cock alone can reach, so I thought we should just talk.”

Evelyne heard what she thought was someone choking just outside of the greenhouse. Luchino turned to look for an evesdropper over his shoulder, but Evelyne refused to let anyone else see her now-burning face. Part of it was due to that line of his being overheard--though she didn't know why; Luchino had told her several times before that the others would know how they were spending their time. The other part of it was…flattery? That a man as desired as him would seek to know her despite her secrecy.

In Which Luchino Feels a Lot of Pain

The Professor was a private man, but after having spent so long at the manor there was not much he refused to speak about at all. Today, however, was a day which involved one such remaining subject.

The mutation from himself to his Hunter form had already begun, finished, and vanished long ago. His body was in stasis now, unchanging, unaging, and the Evil Reptilian existed separate from the original Luchino Diruse. But some days, for some reason, he felt as if it were happening again. A sick trick of the mind, perhaps, or a cause the manor has decided he'd earned. Regardless, the topic was taboo not because of any punishment or estrangement he felt he'd face, but rather because there was no worthwhile payoff for trying to explain such a convoluted time-defying event. That was, according to everyone else, the Evil Reptilian had been at the manor before the Professor, despite both of them knowing that was not the case at all. Even if he did convince them of the truth, though, no one could help the Professor with his phantom pains in any meaningful way. It simply would not matter in the end.

And so on the days he awoke and felt his bones shifting, muscles tearing, cells morphing with all the relevant and acute pains, Luchino stayed in his room. He abandoned his work, social habits, even meals, and remained writhing in bed for the day. Generally, everyone left him alone. If someone in the manor isolated, it tended to be for a reason, and Luchino’s closest friends especially treated his room the same as his office and kept away.

Which was why he answered the door when Evelyne knocked. He expected an emergency, not simple nosiness. Least of all from the strange female Butcher.

“Why weren’t you at breakfast or lunch?” She stared at him suspiciously through the crack he opened in the door. Straight to the point, it seemed. “It’s not like you to skip meals.” Luchino might have processed some surprise and flatter–knowing Evelyne was not the ‘outreaching’ sort–if he weren't so busy trying to hide that he was feeling his ribs break. He failed, and he saw Evelyne's eyes narrow when his shoulders shuttered and caved in.

Luchino tried to slam the door shut on her, but the sluggishness imparted from his pain was just enough for her to get her foot wedged in the frame.

“Evelyne–” Luchino snapped at her, but any rebuke on his tongue died when he was suddenly wracked with another full wave of pain that sent him crumpling completely forward. His knees buckled and he fell into the door. Simple bodyweight was less of an obstacle than intentional pushback, though, and Evelyne stubbornly began shoving her shoulders through the gap her foot held.

“Let me in,” she whispered with urgency. Despite his best, weakened efforts, she slipped inside his dark room. The door slammed shut, and Luchino could not fight the long and miserable groan or buckling of his knees; he slid down to the floor. Evelyne knelt next to him and looked for a cause of the apparent pain. But there was nothing obvious, which he was sure she found more than disturbing. In matches, even when he was bloody and bruised, Luchino merely breathed heavily and chuckled. He was the type to growl in pleasure, not pain. Which made the sight of him curling up all the more distressing to her. “What's going on? What's wrong?”

Luchino merely shook his head at her and dropped to his elbows, unable and unwilling to answer both. His back hunched as if that would stop the phantom break-expansion of his ribs. His muscles flexed to keep them to whole and unripped, fingers clawed grooves into the floor like he might ward off his agony with sheer will. And when his body released it was with a gasp of exhausted effort.

His braids fell over his shoulder, obscuring the tight screwing of his face and the snarling clench of his teeth from the woman he faintly recalled was afraid of his mouth. Less faintly, he was surprised when she touched his face to push the hair back. When his body allowed him to look at her, there was indeed a seed of nervousness in her eyes. Her hands were steady, though.

“I shouldn't have been cause for you to get up, back to bed with you,” she said softly. Bit of a non-apology, that, he thought with a chuckle. But Luchino let her brace under his arm and help him back to his feet. Together, they limped back to his flail-tossed bed, where he collapsed just in time for an actual shout of pain to be muffled by his pillows. He curled into the sheets and growled and roared because he felt his skin erupting with scale-growth burns, his spine separating at each vertebra and spreading out. His shifting and writhing eventually put him on his side, where he opened his screwed-shut eyes and saw Evelyne still nervously knelt next to his bed.

“You can go,” he told her when he had breath enough to spare.

“I–” she hesitated. “Isn’t there something I can do?”

“No,” he choked. “It will pass with tim–” his words dissolved into a feral cry. He flinched and swung a fist back at his headboard, punching it hard and loud. The pain that bloomed in his hand was a poor distraction from the worse sensations, but he would take anything–anything at this point. And that was when Evelyne grabbed his hand.

“Stop that,” she said. The second his fist uncurled, her hand slipped and locked into his. Her spare hand stroked his bleeding knuckles. “Just squeeze my hand.”

He wanted to tell her not to linger. Not to waste her time. Not to do this when he might very well break her hand in a fit, without knowing. But she sat steadfast on the floor next to him, braced and determined. She was odd, this one.

“You’ll be alright,” Evelyne whispered when the next bout came.

And as Luchino turned and roared into his pillow again, he realized, in the back of his mind, that he couldn’t recall the last time anyone had said that to him.

After Death

Luchino awakens faster than the others after his total loss of a match. That's common for him; he suspects it has something to do with his scales, the beginnings of a hunter body with its seeming immunities. As soon as his eyes are open, his feet hit the ground.

And Luchino does something unwise then, something he's not sure isn't punishable by the manor: He marches his way down the hall to Evelyne's room. It's still locked because she's not yet returned from the match, not fully back to herself. But Luchino chooses to take a page from his other self and gives in to his impulses this time. He takes out a tiny pocket knife and jams it into the keyhole, forcing his way in.

When Luchino slips in, her room is quiet. Evelyne is tucked into bed, but there's something odd about her form. She's hazy, shimmery, not fully formed. He's not entirely sure she'll be there when he reaches out to touch her. The dirt and grime are gone from her skin, but fast-fading scars linger on her face almost like being covered by makeup. She looks peaceful, but he feels like she's still there somewhat, lingering in replays of the match's trauma.

Luchino shuts her door behind him (The lock might be broken, but he'll fix it himself later.) and strides over to climb into bed with the once-predator woman. When his knee hits her mattress it stirs something in a way that makes him want to regret this. Evelyne's face twists out of peaceful sleep and she sobs half-consciously. (It might have been his name, but he doesn't let himself be stunned out of action so easily.) He's quick, coils around her through the thin sheets separating them and hushes her. It works, for now. When she fully awakens he's sure there will be more and worse (she didn't handle death well, he's noted before) but at least he will be there, ready.

CoA VII: Foreign Body

“I don't understand how you haven't given up yet,” Evelyne mused aloud.

Luchino was busy with the latest version of his serum, carefully measuring tiny vials of tinctures and powders. He was in his casual wear–something she'd learned he only donned when in private, away from the nervous eyes of the others in the Shelter–and she figured it was something he kept from his days as a Professor. A hint of nostalgic normalcy. His infected arm was still wrapped up, though, with silky mycelium strands slipping through the gaps of cloth. But he hadn't had any flare-ups yet that day, and he was taking that as an opportunity to finish some of his more delicate mixing work. Evelyne was sat on the gurney he'd swiped from the medbay for her treatments.

“Humanity deserves better than weak resolutions,” he answered absently, eyeing a flask’s measurements.

“Does it?” She asked. When she looked at her own hands, she still saw the blood of old sins crusted around her nails, venom in the veins beneath. The tiny blooms of black mold beneath the first layer of her skin were negligible. Part of her always wondered if the mold saw her as a partner rather than a host because she was a kindred pest from the very beginning. “Plenty of bad in humanity. Maybe the moral scales finally tipped and this is our punishment.”

“Plenty of bad, yes, but plenty of good. I don't believe that all is lost,” Luchino responded. He looked over his shoulder, back at her. “Do you?”

Evelyne did not reply again, lost in her own melancholy musings. Luchino felt a bit bad for her. The state of the world was far from good. Everyone lived in fear, save for the few like himself who instead wallowed in rage. He was able to turn his emotions into action, to fight back against this fate, but most people were not that strong-willed or rational. He was trusted among the remaining general populace, but still had to cover his currently-controlled infection when in their company. Evelyne’s ‘infection’ was far less obvious, but the circumstances of it meant she had to be sequestered away to her room or this lab for safety. He did imagine that the limited and very tunnel-visioned company of the exploration team got a bit old.

He paused his work to observe the solemn woman. Comfort was not the Professor's specialty anymore. He was too jaded, tired. But he decided it was worth trying now, and picked up a small glass display from his desk. He held it out for Evelyne to see when he stopped in front of her, and her eyes fell over a collection of pressed plants she hadn't seen in years. “There's more to the world than simple good and bad. If humanity has not earned your concern, then consider, as I do, that nature holds no morality. It has earned no punishment, and certainly not extinction. And make no mistakes; right now you are a rare shred of hope for life as we know it. As much as I enjoy destroying the fungus with fire and violence, that will not save us from an internal enemy. Science, medicine, and rare cases such as yourself and Emil will be our saving graces. Even I am proof of that. If it weren't for you being here, I might have already been consumed by my infection. Whatever ‘bad’ haunts you, surely this is redemption enough for humanity. For you.” Her eyes moved to the silvery strands floating about his forearm, drifting on the smallest wafts of air like fine hair.

“I'm not doing anything, Mister Diruse, but sitting here and letting you poke and prod me with needles and the like,” she mutters.

“And very grueling work it is, if I might say,” he chuckles, gesturing to his own infected elbow, littered with injection marks from testing his own medicine. “At the very least, you're keeping me alive and free. I'm quite thankful for that.”

Evelyne rolled her eyes a bit, fighting back a pointless smile. She dared to touch his displayed hand, ghosting over his tainted knuckles. “Well, I suppose if I do any good,” she sighed. “It ought to be for you.”

[marsmarbles]

If you have the time, could you maybe do a scene with bigb teaching grian how to bake his famous cookies? Or maybe something a bit more angsty, like one of them getting to the other only to find their leftover items? Or whatever you want honestly! Thx for the secret soulmates food! :p

I had an idea for this request but it would be too much to draw so I’m actually gonna try and do some writing instead. Sorry for those who don’t like reading. It’s kinda long.

Golden Light to Silver Shadows

Grian nervously stood before the Food Crew’s bakery entrance, clamping his sweaty hands on a present he had spent all day preparing for BigB. Turning the knob of the door and pushing it open activated an alarm system set up by Fwhip. A bell rang and a few note blocks could be heard. It was a charming little jingle to welcome customers. The bakery was cozy with cherry plank walls and coffee colored spruce floors. A few circle tables were sprinkled in the center of the room with booths lining the walls. Lanterns, succulents, and baskets of flowery bushes hung from the ceiling. BigB was sat behind the counter. He was examining the creases in the floorboards with his head resting on his hand. He had been daydreaming. BigB loved his bakery, but it was admittedly boring to wait for customers. The door jingle alerted him to Grian’s presence.

“Grian!” BigB lit up in excitement, his antennae wiggled with joy. The genuine excitement to see Grian was more than enough to make Grian’s face flush. “Hey, BigB. I uhhh… made something for you.”

Grian slid a bag of cookies across the counter with shaky hands. They were neatly wrapped in a shimmery clear bag, tightly fastened with a blue ribbon with gold accents. “This was my first time ever making cookies, so sorry if they’re bad. Maybe you can show me your secret recipe,” Grian laughed nervously.

BigB gleefully loosened the blue ribbon holding the bag shut, took a cookie, and ate it whole. It was crunchy and thin and….hollow(?)…they weren’t bad by any means. For Grian’s first time, BigB appreciated the love and effort he put in. He had waited all day for someone to show up to the bakery. And the fact that it was Grian made it even better. He didn’t want him to leave just yet.

“How about we make some cookies together! The cocoa beans should be ready in the greenhouse,” BigB suggested, gesturing to the entrance to the greenhouse just behind him.

“I’d love to!” Grian quickly replied. The word ‘together’ was enough.

After BigB stashed away the cookies for later in the top cabinet, he and Grian made their way to the back door to the greenhouse. Grian had to do an awkward shuffle around the counter to keep up. The greenhouse was gorgeous. Golden light shone through the semi transparent overhang and broke through the flowers and leaves. Parrots chirped and bees buzzed. Luscious plants swayed in the gentle breeze. Glow berry vines slung from the ceiling as axolotls and frogs popped out from the ponds, curious of the new visitor. Grian stared in awe. This was more of a massive nature preserve than any greenhouse he’s ever been in.

“Grian?” BigB broke Grian out of his trance. “The cocoa bean farm is over here.”

“Uh right,” Grian said, adjusting his glasses and wiping his mouth and chin with his coat sleeve (just to make sure he didn’t drool while distracted).

BigB led him to a cluster of jungle trees. They reached high, popping out the top of through the ceiling. Podzol and bamboo were dotted around in clumps. Just past the cocoa bean farm was the end of the greenhouse. Through the transparent walls could be a seen an expansive jungle forest, stretching well beyond the world borders. BigB pulled off a ready cocoa bean plant and inspected it for abnormalities. After checking that it was good, he held it out for Grian. “Why don’t you try to break this one open?”

“Uhh I dunno,” Grian held his hands up, unsure.

In that moment, Grian took a pause. Actually, the whole world felt in slow motion. Something unseen had disturbed the peace. His Watcher senses were tingling, so to speak. Something was about to happen….. Suddenly, as the world picked back up in speed, BigB’s calming smile was shot down with an excruciating pain all throughout his body; every muscle, every ligament, every organ, each and every follicle of hair. The cocoa bean plant dropped and exploded on impact with the earth. A jolt went up his spine and his legs went out on him. He tumbled to the ground. He had no process time to scream or cry out in pain. He just fell.

“BIGB!!!!” Grian shrieked, dropping to his knees to assist him just as fast as BigB fell. “B-BIGB WHAT HAPPENED ARE YOU OKAY??”

“I-I…I think I’m going…J-Jimmy…he-”BigB managed to get out with a weak shaky breath.

“BigB! BigB! Please I need you to stay with me BigB,” Grian frantically cradled BigB in his arms. He could feel tears welling up in his eyes. He checked chat…

…Jimmy had fallen to his death…

Oh, fucking of course, Grian thought. Grian hadn’t considered Jimmy being in control of BigB’s lives, but with that confirmation he’d might as well think of this as his final moments with his secret soulmate.

“Grian….” BigB mustered the strength to caress Grian’s cheek and wipe away a tear. “…it’s ok….i’ll be right back….it’s just one life….”

“BigB….” Grian quietly whined, taking BigB’s hand, keeping it held to his cheek. He felt it go cold and his arm become heavy. Grian saw the last of the light in BigB’s dark eyes fade as his body became limp. Grian pulled his lifeless corpse into one final hug. And as BigB dissipated into smoke and billowed away…..Grian was left alone.

All the light and magic that the greenhouse had greeted him with was gone. The birds went silent, the bees hid back into their hives. The trees and flowers went grey and the golden light became silver shadows. Silently, Grian collected BigB’s fallen items, keeping his head down to hide his tearful look. And as he slowly closed the chest he stored BigB’s items in, he heard voices in the distance. It was a collection of people, most notably Scott, Martyn, Fwhip, and Joel, with a tomato faced Jimmy stomping ahead of them.

“Jimmy!!! We’re sorry!! We didn’t think you’d miss the water!” Scott cackled as he tried to explain himself to Jimmy.

“It was bad maths!! Bad maths!!” Martyn pleaded with a giggle.

“We didn’t think you’d die!!” Scott added, trying to breathe through his laughter.

“IM NOT HAVING ANY OF IT!!!!” Jimmy snapped back at them. “PLAYING BUNGEE JUMP WITH FISHING RODS IS THE LAST THING WE SHOULD BE THINKING ABOUT DOING IN A PLACE LIKE THIS!!! WHAT DO YOU THINK IMMA TELL BIGB, ‘THAT IT WAS JUST A PRANK’!!??”

Jimmy stormed into the bakery, and as he slammed the door, Fwhip’s voice was cut off; “but it was just a prank-“

Grian could here Jimmy stomp about in the bakery. He must’ve been looking for BigB. Jimmy ran out into the greenhouse and froze to find Grian and the aftermath of the incident. Grian stood there with a clenched fist and a chest by his feet. He gave Jimmy a stone cold glare with his dark eyes. Jimmy flinched at the sight of his expression.

“I put BigB’s stuff in this chest,” Grian said almost robotically, pointing to the box.

Jimmy desperately wanted to apologize, but Grian looked like he would accept nothing; not even a notch apple. Grian stiffly walked past him.

“I’m sorry….about BigB…” Jimmy made an attempt at an apology, hoping that Grian could find it in him somewhere to forgive him. Grian paused.

“It wasn’t your fault, Tim….” Grian said without turning back to him. “It was their’s….”

Grian continued walking, leaving Jimmy to wallow. He made his way to the bakery and took a seat at one of the circle tables. The room felt cold and desolate compared to before. Like it was a completely different place that the greenhouse had spat him back out into. He shuffled his chair forward and laid his head down, waiting for BigB’s return.

I actually had a lot of fun writing this, even though I wouldn’t consider myself a very skilled writer(and there’s most definitely a lot of mistakes I made lol). I felt like it was easier to depict a full scene compared to a comic(which would’ve probably taken me weeks). So I’ll do more writing like this in the future.

[kris-mage-fics]

Thanks for the tag @phenanthreneblue!

1. How many works do you have on AO3? Eight 2. What's your total AO3 word count? 7,656. So far I've only published short little one-shots. 3. What fandoms do you write for? Shepherds of Haven, Scarlet Hollow, and Ebon Light. 4. Top five fics by kudos 1. Had it Been Anyone Else (Ebon Light, it's Haron angst hours lol, spoilers for the end of the game on Ernol's route) 2. A New Room (Ebon Light, Haron fluff, spoilers for the end of the game) 3. Fog (Scarlet Hollow, Tabitha angst, no real spoilers) 4. An Unlikely Engagement (Shepherds of Haven, Kyrahlise/Blade, very, very minor spoiler for Chapter 8) 5. The Best Proof of Love is Trust (Shepherds of Haven, spoilers for Chapter 3 which is in the public demo) It doesn't escape me that they are almost in publication order 5. Do you respond to comments? Always! Though sometimes it takes me a while to do so. I rarely get them so it isn't that hard to respond to them. 6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Absolutely Had it Been Anyone Else! It's literally pure angst. Though when I write for Tabitha it always ends up angsty too, so Fog and The Secret of the Greenhouse aren't exactly sunshine and roses. 7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Some may disagree, but I think The Best Proof of Love is Trust has a very happy ending! 8. Do you get hate on fics? Not so far.

9. Do you write smut? No? Yes? I've written some, but haven't published any. Smut is hard for me to write because I visualize everything, and there's a lot to visualize in a smut scene compared to a scene without much action. So it's exhausting to write. Also I suspect it's harder to keep sustained enough interest to write a full scene because I'm on the asexual spectrum. It's not something I'm opposed to, it's just harder than other writing for me. That said, there is a sex scene I really want to write, but it probably won't be very sexy, lol! 10. Craziest crossover? Haven't written any. 11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not as far as I know. 12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Nope. 13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? No, but it would be foolish to say it'll never happen. ;) 14. All time favourite ship? I could make a tier list, but I don't have a favorite anymore than I have a favorite food or tea or board game, lol! 15. What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I started a fic that's a newspaper article on Kyrahlise. It's written as a hit piece on the Hero of Haven, trying to imply she's actually a bad person. The reporter interviewed people in Ashtown who know her, but reading between the lines you figure out they didn't dig up anything and are just overly skeptical of a Diminished woman who quickly gained some fame and power. I planned to end it with a little segment from the perspective of someone Kyrah used to know, where they figure out she's now the Hero everyone won't shut up about. I still like the idea, I just doubt I'll ever finish it.

Also I started one where it's written like the reports from one of the people sent to spy on Blade. Thing is the spy knows Blade, so they see him falling for Kyrahlise and are like, "wtf?!? is she enchanting him? is he actually in love? omg he's so bad at this! wow, it looks like she actually likes him too!" Also they think Kyrah is super sus because a lot of the things she does don't make sense and aren't explained. (Full disclosure: this idea was heavily inspired by a conversation other people had on the ShoH patreon.) 16. What are your writing strengths? Dialogue and banter, always knowing where my characters are in a scene and what they are doing (the upside of the visualization thing), sweet/cute moments, and angst when I'm in the right mood. 17. What are your writing weaknesses? Finishing, lol! Editing, it's hard for me to let go of trying to be 'perfect'. I'll get really stuck on a sentence or paragraph and obsessively revise it even though it's fine, just because I think it can be better. I know it's not healthy or sustainable, and I'm working on it. (I can point to a particular sentence in a fic that I literally spent hours on!) Action! It's the same visualization problem I have with writing smut, it's a lot to keep in my head and it quickly wears me out. Getting the right voice for a lot of characters. My writing tends to be introspective and verbose, which doesn't work for everyone. So it's a struggle to find a balance between the character's voice and my natural writing style. 18. Thoughts on dialogue in another language? I think it's great, for other people to write! I'm pretty terrible at languages, and don't trust myself to get it right without consulting someone who knows that language. Given a lot of what I write for is fantasy with made up languages, that's not going to happen. 19. First fandom you wrote in? Ebon Light, in fact it's the reason I even tried writing in the first place! 20. Favorite fic you've written? I think it's a three way tie between: The Secret of the Greenhouse -- I think I did a good job getting some creepy vibes in such a short piece. It doesn't align with canon at all, but in my opinion it's my best Scarlet Hollow fic. The Best Proof of Love is Trust -- I feel like I succeeded at my goal of showing just how much thought Kyrahlise put into a big choice in Chapter 3, as well as some of her character and past. Had it Been Anyone Else -- I had the sudden need to break Haron's heart. I seem to have accomplished the mission since 100% of the comments mention it being either sad or heartbreaking.

Ngl, I don't know who to tag on this one. Because besides Phen, and one other person, I think most people I know only have one work on ao3, or none. So open tagging it is! If you see this and want to join in, consider yourself tagged, whether you are a mutual or not!

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Hi! Requesting Thranduil x female reader with the prompt Snowman (Modern AU only). Thanks and looking forward to reading!

Pairing: Modern! Thranduil x Fem. Reader (second person POV)

Themes: Soft/Fluffy

Warnings: None

Wordcount: 700+ words

Summary: After finding the gardens covered with snow, Thranduil comes up with a fun activity for you both.

Minors DNI

Divider by @estrelinha-s

It was cold. So very cold. The storm had blown over the city of Mirkwood while its citizens slept, bringing with it biting winds and ice and thick puffs of snow. Then the storm departed as quickly as it came, and everyone opened their eyes to a world covered in thick layers of snow.

At least it is not snowing, Thranduil reflected. And the wind is no longer howling like a living thing.

He had been awake for most of the night, impatiently pacing his study, and with his attention fixed firmly on his phone. There were no calls the night before, nothing from his Marchwardens, and certainly nothing from his son. Legolas would have found a way to alert his father had something gone horribly wrong, and he had not. He did, however, call an hour after dawn to inform his father that all was well and he would be joining Tauriel, Elros, and the others for breakfast, before they commenced rounds of the city again. 

I should be out there with them, he thought. But Legolas said there was no need.

Perhaps he would go later, and join them anyway. As their leader, it was only proper that he did so.

Thranduil padded over to a window and peered into the back garden. Vast and well-kept, it was now covered in snow that gleamed weakly in the dim morning light. His lips curled up at the corners.

Tis a perfect day for some fun in the sun. Thranduil sighed softly and drained the last of his coffee. He grimaced. It had gone cold while he stood there, looking out into a world that reminded him of some magical kingdom. Thinking he had spent enough time indoors, he left his mug on the table and headed out into the parlor.

The rest of the house was as warm and cozy as his study, and smelled faintly of beeswax and cinnamon and the slivers of orange that were dried and hung on wreathes of glorious green. The snow-covered garden called out to him again, and he, not wanting to deny it, sped upstairs, searching for a companion to join him.

Your bedroom was as silent as a tomb when he entered it. “Wake up, y/n,” he called softly. “It is past nine.”

“Thirty more minutes, please,” you mumbled, and burrowed further into your pillows.

Thranduil laughed. “You sleep like one of the dead, y/n,” he observed, and he stood by the door. It was a marvel to him really, how you were able to sleep through last night’s storm. “Come now, and open your eyes. You have had an entire night’s worth of sleep.”

“This dead person thinks a night’s worth of sleep is not enough, and demands thirty more minutes.”

“Come with me, y/n. Please.”

All the grumbling in the world would not have dissuaded him. Thranduil stepped out into the corridor to let you wake up and wash the sleep out of your eyes in peace. He paced impatiently again, this time in the corridor, while you indulged in a hot shower and dressed for the day.

“Alright,” you declare, and you pull the thickest sweater you could find over your head. “What do you want to do today?”

Thranduil took your hand and led you straight to the back garden. Everything was covered in snow: the trees, the bushes, and the greenhouse by the back wall. Still, it was exceedingly breathtaking, and when Thranduil sank to his knees, you were overcome with ravenous curiosity.

“Snowmen cannot make themselves,” he insisted. His cheeks had grown rosy, and his buttery-yellow hair lifted gently with the wind. “Come on, y/n, and help with this.”

It was too pretty a scene to resist. You walked through the snow and settled on your knees beside him. First came the base, a large ball of snow that had to be flattened at the top. Then came a second ball of snow that was smaller than the first. Then came the third and final ball of snow. Thranduil returned to the house, and when he came back not long after, it was with an old woolen beanie, a worn red scarf, tiny lumps of coal, and of course, a carrot.

“This is perfect,” you remark, and fix the beanie to the head of the snowman. The scarf was next. The coal kept falling off, but Thranduil succeeded in sticking them on in the end. The carrot was last. By the time the two of you finished, the snowman stood tall and proud in its woolen cap and beanie. Thranduil was pleased with the end result, and wanted to make more of the same. You, wanting to indulge him, agreed.

tags: @ryantryan6969 @asianbutnotjapanese @the-fandoms-georgie @@esmeralda-tupi @shadow-singer123 @p-polaroid @desert-fern @stormchaser819 @jinxxangel13 @snowtargaryen

[p4rallel-universe]

awkward phonecall

A/N - this is based off of a scene in the movie Metal Lords, which is a very good movie and should be watched by everyone.

summary: Enid has a crush on the reader, who has psychic/telekinetic powers. after sitting in on one of this light-hearted exchanges with Bianca, Enid sees a chance and takes it.

"you know, you do seem pretty gay to me, Y/N." Bianca is teasing you, as usual.

you could say the two of you have a love-hate relationship. mostly hate. and not really love. maybe...despise-tolerate?

sitting in the courtyard, at a bench and table is you, Bianca (of course) and a few of your classmates. this group includes Enid Sinclair, your bright, bubbly friend, who's been acting kind of different recently. you haven't told anyone, but you have a bit of a crush on her. you're pretty sure she's into Ajax though, which is fine, you're not gonna push.

"i am not!" you reply, faking offense.

"something about your hair, your voice, the way you walk. so...basically everything." she smirks and you roll your eyes.

"you're sounding a bit like Ariel there, miss mermaid." it's the best insult you can think of. if you're honest, your back and forth with Bianca is reminiscent of childhood squabbles.

"just because you've got Jedi powers." she mocks you, putting on a stereotypical nerdy voice.

"haha." you fake laugh at the lame insult, "spare me, i'll die a virgin if i'm known as 'one of the guys with Jedi powers'."

Bianca shoots you a look, an eyebrow raised, "i didn't mean it that way! i'm not, well-" you give up, and end up just sighing in frustration as Bianca laughs at you. you raise the middle finger to her before chuckling over it yourself.

the day continues as usual, and before you know it, it's 8 PM, and you're pretty relaxed in your dorm, when your phone rings. it's Enid. sitting up, you immediately answer,

"hey!" you greet, excited that she phoned you, but curious as to why,

"hey! uh, how was your day?" her sweet, clear voice rings out and you smile,

"it was alright, easy enough classes. except for Bianca's cruelty to me at lunch, of course." you chuckle down the phone,

"Bianca is always saying ridiculous things." Enid replies, a hint of actual malice in her voice.

"oh yeah, which parts ridiculous? the Jedi part, the gay part, or the virgin part?" you joke, but she goes quiet. worried you overstepped a boundary, you prepare to a) apologise (awkwardly) or b) make an excuse and hang up. before you can follow through on either option, she speaks up.

"well, you are, right?" her voice is low, like she's choosing her words carefully,

"gay? i mean, i don't think so. i guess it's a spectrum?" you tell her, confused

Enid huffs softly, "no, i mean, a virgin. a-are you a virgin?" she asks very quickly. as if she never even said it.

taken aback, you answer honestly, "oh! umm- yeah, definitely. 100%." you cringe at your response, smacking your forehead.

there's a pause.

"hello?" you say into the phone, thinking the lines went dead. or worse. she hung up after finding out your terrible secret.

"d-do you want-", she pauses, taking her time, "do you want to...not be?" she holds her breath, waiting for your answer. oh no. oh no. what a stupid thing to ask! she panics. what she doesn't realise is that, in your silence, you're also having your own moment of panic. oh. oh. is this a joke? i should say something. fuck. a million thoughts go through your head.

"uhh, yes? yes, actually. yeah." your mouth has gone dry and every second feels like an hour of waiting.

"can you meet me behind the greenhouse in half an hour?" Enid asks bluntly, her caution from before seemingly vanished.

"see you then." you blurt out, and Enid giggles as she hangs up the phone.

oh, you think to yourself.

oh.

(bit of a short, low effort fic. just bc i enjoyed the concept and wanted to put it down, also felt like writing. more solid fics coming soon 👍)

[lore-of-the-mushroom-kingdom]

The Kong Archipelago Location

So in an old developer interview from 1994 found on shmuplations, Miyamoto claims that "The Mushroom Kingdom looks to be on the outskirts of Donkey Kong's homeland, as seen in the game's ending…" in reference to DK 94's ending. So that seems to make it an open and shut case, DK's home is near the Mushroom Kingdom. Wellllll.... probably not. So with newer information from other games this piece of info in this interview has effectively been retconned. Thus DK's Tower is either not part of DK's homeland, or they went to the Mushroom Kingdom for the ending of the game. Why do I say this?

It's because in Donkey Konga 2 you can seen in the background of the menu, and from a scene from the story mode there appears to be a city in the distance across the water from Donkey Kong Island. In addition we actually see parts of this place for some of these levels for this game. This is more than likely the shoreline of the Metro Kingdom and would lead to Big Ape/ New Donk City. This would place the Kong Archipelago near the Metro Kingdom. Interestingly enough there is 2 sets of Islands on this Odyssey map near the Metro Kingdom that could fit the bill.

This would explain some other things. In Donkey Kong Country Tropical Freeze we see Stanley's Greenhouse from Donkey Kong III in the level Fruity Factory. This makes some sense, DK Snr. traveled on this island and gave Stanley trouble while on his way home. This also explains why it was so easy for the Kongs to get to Big Ape City in Donkey Kong Land. With that being said due to the trees I believe Mario Bombs Away would take place on one of these islands as well.

[invisibleraven]

You can't run away this time, rulie, bonus points if julie is running

Reggie arrived on the scene as the alarms blared, but given the officers prowling around, he was too late to stop whoever decided the diamonds were prime for the plucking.

"Any leads?" he asked the cop holding court over the scene.

"Siren for sure, given the busted glass and blown cameras," the man replied. "Probably not far, you know how she likes to gloat."

Reggie nodded, and blinked away, scouring the rooftops nearby. The officer was right, Siren liked to watch the aftermaths of her crimes, often taunting the cops from far enough away that they could never catch her.

Reggie had tangled with her more than once, his ability to teleport making it easy to keep up. But there was also a history there, meaning that while he usually managed to return what she stole, he never seemed to bring her to justice.

It was a black mark on his a career as a superhero that he gladly bore.

However, the mayor was getting tetchy, and his fellow capes were starting to put the pieces together. There was grumbling that maybe he was playing both sides-an accusation he could have floating around.

Ever since he was a kid, Reggie had wanted to be a hero-keeping his powers a secret, but using them for good whenever he could. Training with an old retired cape until he came on the scene as Blink.

Now there were people who looked up to him, relied on him. Believed in him. And no matter how he felt, he couldn't let them down.

He found Sired in a nearby rooftop greenhouse, gently serenading the plants, a soft smile on her face as she caressed the leaves of a plant. "Was wondering when you would show." She didn't even look at him as she spoke, the musical quality never really leaving her voice.

"You can't run away this time Siren," he stated, hands on his hips as he watched her saunter out of the greenhouse.

"Who said I was running?" she asked with a smirk, flinging a strand of her curly brown hair off her shoulder. "You know how I love the thrill of the chase, be no fun to at least set the terms first."

"I can't let you go. Not this time."

She gave a smug little laugh at that, coming closer, hungry eyes on him. "Well you never could."

"I'm being serious Julie!" Reggie stated, taking a hold of her arm. Seeing the startled expression on her face, even with the mask obscuring half of it. "I need to bring you in-no clever escapes this time."

They knew each other's identities of course-part of their sordid history that always seemed to linger and ensnare them. Like there was no escaping each other, a fact that neither of them would admit or give in to. Like a pair of magnets, they kept getting drawn back in.

"I won't go down your straight and narrow path Reggie," she said, looking at him with a hint of malice. "There's no life for me there. And what one exists is unfair-you know that better than most."

"I do," he admitted, sagging a little. "But that's why I do this-to give people hope that we can make it better. They can be better."

"Sweet sentiment," Julie replied. "But naive."

"I have to try," Reggie said, quiet and soft. "You wanted to do the same once upon a time. Change the world, make it a better place."

"I do," she insisted. "It's not like I steal things to live in the lap of luxury. The profits go towards causes and people who actually improve things-real change, not empty platitudes. You'd know that if you took the superhero goggles off once and a while."

"There are legal ways you could help them."

"Not as fun," Julie replied, tossing her hair once more. "I can't let you catch me, you know that right?"

"Just like you know I have to bring you in," he countered.

"Not this time cariño," she said apologetically, then let forth her siren scream.

Reggie's hands automatically went to cover his ears-Julie's scream could shatter glass, concrete, bones if she wanted it to. So there was no doubt what it would do to his eardrums, especially at this proximity.

Julie grinned as she stopped, pulling him in by the front of his suit to press a fleeting yet fiery kiss to his mouth. 'Until next time' she mouthed, and then dashed off.

Reggie swayed as the ringing in his ears continued, his equilibrium all thrown off. He couldn't blink to another location until the vertigo passed, and Julie knew it. He slid down the wall, waiting for a semblance of normalcy to return.

And right by his hand, on the ground was the bag full of diamonds that Siren had stolen.

Well... most of them anyways. He was sure that Julie's favourite charity would be getting a hefty anonymous donation as soon as she could fence the rest.

He sighed, head resting against the wall, looking at the horizon. "Next time..." And smile despite himself, as those words thrilled and delighted him.

But resolved to get himself a pair of ear plugs before his next skirmish with Siren.

[whenshesayshush]

Thinking about that time gap between s1 and s2 that Riven and Musa got to be around each other enough for her to call him ‘Riv’ at the pub!? Like, they were being way too casual for that to be the first time they hung out since the ‘red flag’ debacle. Which calls for a deleted scene drabble during that time period, me thinks..

...I may have gotten carried away.

———

Musa’s been with Sam long enough to recognize that despite her lips currently searing a path down the side of his throat, it’s not his low groan echoing off of the walls of the greenhouse. He hears it too, puts some distance between them by pushing against her shoulders. “Dad?”

Her heartbeat speeds up even more at the thought of being caught mid-make-out by her boyfriend’s father and her Professor, but to her it sounded more like they’re not the only couple to realize the greenhouse is one of the few places in the school unoccupied after eight pm, so she pulls her hands from underneath his shirt and steps away, towards the door separating the classroom from the infirmary.

It’s slightly ajar, and she pulls it open all the way to reveal Sky’s friend Riven. He’s sitting on one of the beds, torso twisted to allow the meager light from the lamp on the bedside table to illuminate his arm. The armor-plated vest of his new uniform is next to him on the covers, a dark liquid saturating a large section of the torn sleeve around his bicep, which he is palpating with his opposite hand, his face scrunched up in discomfort.

“Oh, it’s you,” Sam spits from behind her, and she frowns at his tone. Riven’s pretty much an asshole by definition, but he hasn’t actually said or done anything yet.

“Delighted to see you too, Junior,” Riven retorts, then nods his head at her. “Red Flag. Not normally one to cockblock, but I’ve got a bit of a situation here.”

There’s a gauze pad, a rolled bandage and medical tape lying in his lap, but he’s clearly a hand short to be able to apply it by himself.

“Sounds like a you problem. Let’s go, babe.” Sam grabs her hand and pulls her arm back, but she resists his tug.

Riven’s eyes flick from her face to his shoulder, then back to her. The now third-year Specialist is hard to miss around the school, but they haven’t spoken one on one since their spat during Training Day last year. Ever since Sky and Bloom have made it official, though, there are rare days when he isn’t hanging with Beatrix and Dane and instead tags along with his roommate, and she’s been spending more time with Bloom while Terra takes up shifts in the greenhouse, so they’ve been part of the same conversation a couple of times.

It’s how she knows it’s his pride that prevents him from asking, not the hostility she can feel rolling off of Sam. She aches to take it from him, settle him down, but she won’t risk it in front of Riven.

She sighs, “Sam, he’s injured.”

“I can see that. Bitter pill, isn’t it, a taste of your own medicine?”

“You know what, Wallflower—”

“Stop,” Musa commands, not sure how all of her time with Sam lately keeps spiraling into this — him wound up in all the wrong ways, her feeling everything but the absence of chaos.

“I’ll meet you back in your room,” she mutters, closing her eyes in preparation for the disappointed sigh she knows is coming. It does, and then she feels the warmth of him retreat, senses his thundercloud of emotions drifting away as he steps through the outside wall.

Riven has the common sense to only raise a suggestive eyebrow at the display. She crosses the distance and lowers herself onto the bed behind him.

“Things are… tense, with Professor Harvey and Rosalind,” she defends her boyfriend’s actions in spite of herself, then quickly deflects. “Can you get this shirt off?”

He grabs the collar of the lycra half-zip and pulls it over his head. She takes over at his shoulder, helping the fabric down his arm, careful to avoid the sizable open gash right where the Alfea logo is positioned on the sleeve. His eyes follow her movement, his head tilted sideways.

“Andreas?” she asks.

“Got it in one.”

She quickly rubs her hands together before resting her fingers on his skin, carefully prodding. She registers the way his body instantly loses just a little bit of its tension. He is still on guard, still rigid, but his shoulders lower half an inch, and his skin moves under her fingertips as his muscles uncoil.

“Well, I’m not a Harvey, but I don’t think it’s deep enough to require stitches.”

“It’s not. Just help me bandage it and you can get back to the guy you were planning to undress.”

She tears open the sterile packaging and positions the gauze over the wound, securing the edges with strips of tape. “Pretty sure that’s out of the window for tonight.”

He hums, amused. “Doesn’t have to be. Just say the word.” 

The brash frivolity is just what she needs. “What, three is a crowd, four is a party?”

Riven snorts in surprise, twisting his body further to look at her, and the side of her mouth pulls up into a smirk as she envelopes his arm to circle the bandage around it.

“You’re wasted on him,” he murmurs in a low voice.

Her face falls, and she gives a sharp pull on the loose end of the bandage, causing him to grimace, before tucking it underneath the layer below. “You don’t get to judge him.”

She stands up, looking down on him for once. “You sided with the people who are turning this school into some kind of totalitarian military camp. You’re not as dumb as you act sometimes; you can’t be surprised that people didn’t take kindly to that.”

“You don’t understand,” he bristles, and she turns before he can see her eyes go purple. She can’t hold off the wave of indignation, mixed with a desperation that should be out of place, but is awfully familiar to her instead. She’s known that his overconfidence is a mask for his ache to belong for months, senses it every time he’s even remotely near.

“No, I don’t,” she confirms, moving towards the door. “But for what it’s worth, if you ever decide you want to tell your side of the story, I would try to.”

[queen-scribbles]

Unbalanced

Finally wrote Endrali and Senya having a conversation that's been floating around in my head for longer than I care to think about. 😅(aka one of two scenes standing between Ardrali and the Unmasked Regret convo👀👀👀)

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Endrali had learned early and well after forming the Alliance to take days of peace when she got them. Even now, the larger dangers settled--Eternal Empire dealt with, Fleet pacified and under her command--there was still plenty to keep busy. From threats like Tassar or the Sith on Ord Mantell to people who simply wanted a neutral arbiter and sending aid to... everyone, her to-do list hadn't gotten any shorter.

So when a day like today came along, the whole thing to do as she pleased, she took it without hesitation. Most of this one was going to be spent with her flowers. The snow orchids were thriving in the beds that framed her personal landing area--she checked after meditating with Arcann, since she was right there. That had her in a good enough mood to be humming as she headed for the room off the Force Enclave she'd turned into a greenhouse for some of her acquisitions less suited to Odessen's climate.

She'd left the tending to droids for too long. It would feel good to get her hands dirty--perhaps literally--seeing to them herself today. This was one of the best ways she'd found to help her mental balance with all the demands on her time and attention. It was, she had to admit, also her favorite. Something about the connection to and care of other living things centered her better than just about anything.

There was someone already here.

Her stride slowed at the recognition, her senses reaching out to determine who.

An unnecessary effort, as Senya stepped around one of the large planters in the middle of the space. She smiled. "Hello, Commander."

Endrali matched the smile and greeting both. "Hello, Senya. I wasn't expecting to find anyone here."

"I can leave, if you were wanting to be alone," Senya said with a glance at the door.

Endrali shook her head. "Not at all. It's just I thought most, if not all, of the Alliance had forgotten this room exists. If you were planning to meditate or something I can be very quiet."

"I finished." Senya chuckled and shook her head. "I was enjoying the atmosphere." She reached to brush her fingers lightly along the petals of a Balmorran ashmantle. "There is a sense of peace here that has helped greatly... in the aftermath."

"I'm glad." Endrali shifted. "It provides the same sense for me."

Senya cocked her head. "Are you responsible for this, then? I do remember Lana mentioning you have a talent for it."

Endrali nodded, casting a fond look at the vibrant plant life that filled the room. "My favorite way to relax."

"Don't let me get in your way," Senya said, raising her hands apologetically and stepping toward the door. "I know how rarely you get a chance for that."

"Oh, you can stay, I don't mind," Endrali said quickly. "I'm happy someone else is enjoying it. Today's just the first time I've had in a while to take care of them myself, and it surprised me to find someone else here, too."

"I believe I'll take you up on that, then," Senya nodded. She smiled again. "Just tell me if I'm in the way."

"I will," Endrali smiled back, and turned her attention to the black and gold blooms nearest the door. They were thriving; she should split them or shift to a larger planting bed... The contentment of losing herself in her favorite hobby soon had her humming again, the same tune as before.

It was only a few moments before a flicker of emotion rolled off Senya, surprise mingled with something less tangible. Bittersweet and melancholy. "I... didn't know you were familiar with Zakuulan music, Commander."

"Hm?" Endrali spun in her direction, hair slipping loose of her stubby ponytail. I'm not, really...

"That song. It's a Zakuulan lullaby." Senya smiled despite the emotions Endrali had sensed and slowed by a tall plant with curling yellow petals. "I used to sing it for my children." She shook her head as Endrali opened her mouth. "It's a good memory, not a painful one. It just caught me off-guard here, from you. It's been awhile, since..."

"Ah. I... don't even know where I heard it, to be honest," Endrali admitted with a sheepish laugh. She paused to think as she fixed her ponytail, but the last few weeks had been absurdly busy; she'd been everywhere in the galaxy it seemed, except Zakuul. And it wasn't like Arcann was the type to sing to fill silence during the time they spent together. (Which was most of that running around.)

"A little mystery," Senya said, something mischievous or knowing at corners of her smile. She was silent a few moments, fingers running along leaves as she moved on, pacing by the the dark green gold-splotched fern, the climbing vines from Yavin 4, the drooping white bells of Leaders Heart.

Endrali worked contentedly in the silence. Some of the Felucian violets were starting to wilt, and a quick check of soil composition showed why. She'd just set about replacing it when Senya spoke again.

"I've been meaning to thank you, Commander--again, I know." She studied a shade lily in one of the recessed corners. "For trusting me. When we first met, and about Arcann, both times I asked it."

"Of course," Endrali replied (as she had before), tamping the fresh soil around the violets. "Everyone deserves a chance at redemption." Atonement. She snorted softly. "Even those who feel like they don't deserve it." Besides, Arcann was hardly the first she'd extended that mercy to.

"Still. I am aware it couldn't have been a... popular decision, even if you found it easy. And it warms my heart to see the faith you've placed in my son."

"He's earned it." Endrali brushed dirt from her hands as she faced Senya. "It was apparent he's changed, I'm happy to give the chance to prove it."

"Oh, you've done more than that," Senya chuckled. "Some would say anything short of execution was second chance enough; confined to Odessen in an advisory capacity, banished from known space, something... less pleasant. Not many would trust him with assignments, let alone watching their back."

Endrali briefly rubbed the scar at her ribs as she crossed her arms. "He's earned that, too." Smiled at the ironic truth of her next words. "There are few here I trust more." Even if he was trying to kill me less than a year ago. "We make a good team."

The knowing smile was back. "So I've noticed." Senya brushed aside a trailing tendril of ivy that draped against her shoulder. "You've been good to him. Good for him; helping bring out the man I knew he could be."

"I do enjoy making things grow," Endrali joked lightly, gesturing to the greenhouse surroundings. "And he's become a good friend, Senya." The warmth twisting in her chest made friend feel like the wrong word, but that's all... that's what they were. She cleared her throat and shook off the wrongness. "Aside from watching my back and saving my life several times, I like talking to him." She focused on picking dirt out from under her nails rather than Senya's smile that made her feel too seen. "Or, more talking at him. It frequently turns into him listening to me chatter, which I appreciate. I'm always willing to listen back; I know part of why he'd quiet is he's... carrying a lot, and not undeserved. I can pick up on it sometimes when we meditate."

There hadn't been any sense of that the last few times, however. Including that morning.

A glimmer of satisfaction--contentment--rippled from Senya as she leaned against a planter. "He knows he can talk to you," she said softly. "And trusts you enough to do so."

Endrali bit her lip to hold back a threatening grin, the warmth dancing in her chance again. "I'm glad."

Senya chuckled. "It's the mark of a good leader who can make friends out of enemies and gain their trust." She pushed off the planter and headed for the door. "I've taken more time than intended for what was supposed to be a simple thank you, so I'll let you go back to enjoying your free time." The shimmering satisfaction lingered as she paused in the doorway. "But as I said, Endrali; you're good for him. Thank you."

Thoughts knocked askew by the heartfelt emphasis of the words, Endrali managed a nod and murmured thanks of her own.

"He's good for me, too," she whispered to the Felucian violets, which nodded in turn from the rush of breath as if in agreement. It was a struggle to get back her equilibrium with the words ringing in her ears, but Endrali (eventually) shook it off and went back to tending her plants, humming under her breath once more.

"The burning star of Izax bathes the sea in light..."

[animehouse-moe]

Mobile Suit Gundam - The Witch From Mercury S2 Episode 9: What We Can Do

What a massive episode, there's so much going on. So, so much that starts with the realizations of the sheltered students of Astacassia, moves onto the struggles of the Benerit Group, moves into Quiet Zero, and then finally recenters on Suletta and the Earth House. An absolute world of content to talk about.

I'll just start with this clip right from the start.

Shaddiq is a terrible, terrible person. Regardless of significance, regardless of realization, it's important to understand that this is a terrible event, and even the Earth House that resents the Spacians understands it as that. Anyways, why's it a great scene? Because it shows suffering. It shows confusion. It shows fear. It shows Spacians, those entirely untouched by their own policies and actions, being dunked underwater finally as well. To understand what it is that Earthians are so upset about, to understand what it's like to live like them, under the constant threat of violence and destruction for something they never did nor were a part of. It's really great that way.

Especially when we get to the Tomato scenes. Weirdly enough? Tomatoes are very symbolic in this episode and show. Take for example the notion that Miorine hasn't been at Astacassia for a while now while Suletta tends to the tomato greenhouse. During that extended period, Suletta didn't give these tomatoes out, she didn't even do anything with them. Paralyzed with indecision and the words of Miorine, all she did was squirrel them away (aside from the amount that was already being shared with Earth House). But now, now that Suletta has her own words to abide by, now that she can take action and make those decisions, she chooses to share those tomatoes with the refugees of Astacassia, with the help of Earth House. It's a great moment that shows that even if the greenhouse is destroyed, the sentiment and importance of it remains with Suletta, and that she's now able to share that importance and experience with others. It's a huge step forward for her character.

Alright, quick rewind here to this scene with Guel. I really really like it, in showing how isolated and alone Guel is. Carrying the weight of arresting his friend from school, of being a part of the suffering and violence that appeared on Earth, of being unable to stop the destruction of Astacassia. This poor young man carries the weight of the world and so much more on his shoulders, and has nobody to lean on. I know the English Gundam Twitter account already said no shipping Suletta and Guel, but I really do need this pair to meet again so that Guel's able to let it out. Miorine is his business partner, Lauda is his younger brother who can only look up to him. Suletta is the only person Guel can really be vulnerable with, and I need my best boy to just let it all out once more.

Now, onto Shaddiq. This is the look of a man who doesn't regret his actions, who doesn't understand the gravity of what he's done, who refuses to admit to himself that he's wrong. Hiding behind a peaceful expression and cooperative tone is the true Shaddiq, drowning in rage, steeped in frustration, and more likely than not, devoid of any sense of guilt. He's a great character, and to be honest, has been better approached in the vein of revenge than Prospera. There's not a huge amount to take out of his interrogation with Miorine, but that doesn't mean there's nothing. It's just smaller pieces that build a bigger picture of how Miorine sees herself in this retaliatory cycle.

This introspection doesn't last for long though as Peil Technologies moves to rat out the Benerit Group and begin the movement of Quiet Zero. Once more, I'll be honest and say that it's a lot of political stuff that goes on between this admission and the appearance of Quiet Zero. It'd take a mountain of words and probably a few diagrams to explain, so I might leave that all to someone else. The gist of it though is that the Space Assembly League is moving on Quiet Zero/the Benerit Group, intent on shutting them down, interestingly enough, with Mobile Suits in tow. I find this incredibly interesting because it's the same approach to the Vanadis Incident that started this whole story years ago.

Of course, this isn't 21 years ago anymore, and this isn't the same Prospera and Eri fleeing from violence. No, this is Prospera encouraging that violence, daring it to appear in front of her. And she massacres it. The entirely inhuman approach of freezing these men and women in place to aim to destroy not only the mobile suits, but the pilot within, is nothing short of evil. It's an incredibly great sequence for Prospera imparting that indiscriminate and one sided violence that she experienced on Fólkvangr all those years ago. My only wish is that they didn't give her so much "It's all for Eri" vibes during these moments. I feel like it dampens the rawness of her violence and aggression towards these Spacians, and paints her in more of a 'crazy mother' light than a 'I will enact my revenge upon everyone through this calculated plan' one.

Anyways, we return to Astacassia to continue our Suletta story arc, as she gets asked to pilot a Gundam that isn't Aerial. I think it's a great piece. It's terrible, but it's great. It forces Suletta to come to terms with the life that she's experienced this far, and to suffer the burden of what she's been spared of up until this point. It's an outstanding piece that serves to right one of the last wrongs that exists within Suletta, and will also provide more suffering to MIorine. The Gundams of the Vanadis Institute, the Gundams involved in Plant Quetta and Astacassia, the Gundam of Earth, and now, the Gundam set to go up against Quiet Zero. It's incredibly well placed to further intertwine the stories of Miorine and Suletta, all the while forcing a gulf between them on Miorine's end.

And so, at the end of it all, we find an enraged Lauda staring down a Jeturk Heavy Machinery Gundam, cursing Miorine.

I think it's really really great and compounds what we've seen of Miorine this far. It's her turn to be crushed under the weight of reality and her actions. She was already feeling it because of Prospera, she was further dragged beneath by Quiet Zero going online, and now she's being targeted by Lauda and will have to suffer Suletta getting into the mecha. And we can't forget that her father is still in a coma. It's her turn to go through the Gundam grinder and come out a new person, and I'm really looking forward to it. Will she break under the pressure and bow out? Will she turn into her father and shun Suletta even further? What will she do, will she become better or worse because of it? Regardless of that though, I'm incredibly interested to see where we go in the next episode.