#if that didn't go according to plan

[ygodmyy20]

Yellow energy cracks like thunder, burning leaves and incinerating grass and in the center wild hair and bright burning suns for eyes.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this…..

They had been so careful up to this point.

It wasn’t supposed to happen this way….

[luifaro]

in my rereading flowey is not a good lifecoach era and this shit kinda sucks flowey why are you telling him your life story??? why not go after your curiosity you literally brought up instead of this dumb plot you haven't even thought out like it'd be much more interesting for flowey to try to investigate papyrus's past (wink wink nudge nudge) and figure out why he's the way he is. like generally a more interesting plot. and if you're gonna go with this dumb idea at least manipulate even a LITTLE better flowey you do NOT need to pull out your backstory??? you also wouldn't do that so idk what the fuck you're on about like just go "oh gee ur so cool and strong and i feel so safe around you cause youre the toughest guy ikoww... but im worried bout you cause youre so nice too and you give too many chances 🥺🥺🥺🥺 also undyne's not letting you in the royal guard isn't she so mean for that." like flowey should be a manipulative mastermind why was the best thing he could come up with was just telling papyrus his backstory??? also why does papyrus just take that like bitch you should know that's literally asriel dreemurr?? that's literally his story?

[frog-thief]

what's happened? what kind of noise, but no fight?👀

[tinkyrubi-png]

Ok, here's something I'll never finish LMAO

Since EOSD and Vs. Eteled released on the same day I thought of making this silly crossover hihi

[summertimemusician]

Linktober (Shadow) 2023, Day 11

Monsters (Dead Hand)

Summer Stop Giving Reader/PoV Character and the Chain a Hard Time and Trauma Challenge (impossible) /j. But really I'll probably write something lighter for Linktober or Linktober Shadow later to compensate for this one lol. Probably a sequel to this one that has Reader actually having a nice time with the Links for once.

Technically since unfortunately studying for future exam season in like a couple of days has been kicking me in the ribs and thus my time was highly cut and unfortunately I don't have an Ocarina to give me more, this is actually a mix of prompts! The ones in the title, Keese, Wolfos, Wizzrobe, Lizalfos, Redead, and Boss, although they are not the focus here, mostly just mentioned but technically checking out the boxes, maybe next time I'll go more in deep on that (Like the original idea that basically was Reader taming a pet Wolfos as a guard hound that I will not elaborate on at least not this year), instead y'all get this with the boss that gave a lot of people childhood trauma and was never seeing again since because we really don't talk about just why Dead Hands are terrifying much, just that they are, really missed opportunity to use them more in an LU context lol.

As always any relationship between Reader and any of the Chain can be interpreted as romantic or platonic, and Reader is Gender Neutral on Purpose. And First is here because again, this would have been longer if exam season wasn't kicking me in the ribs and I have some really evil ideas involving First, Reader and Time bonding over having trauma of enclosed spaces, but thankfully y'all don't get that today lol, or not, it would be a really fluffy scene so up to y'all if it's a win or a loss.

TW:

Don't think there's anything too heavy-ish? But I'm a horror fan so I'm not someone who can accurately judge that. I'd say graphic descriptions of violence and gore, and being restrained/pinned in place and the entire deal that is the Dead Hand's existing, so please don't read if you're squeamish or uncomfortable. Health is important and specially mental health and I always leave these warnings on Linktober Shadow related prompts or heavier stories, so just a heads up so no one is caught by surprise.

Anyway, enjoy reading!

It was an almost unanimous agreement that no hero liked to pass through a cemetery in Hyrule.

From the restless Gibdo, to the mischievous yet usually cruel Poes and the lost Ghini, to the ever wandering Stalfos and the ghastly agonized Redead and ever determined ghoulish Garo, nothing good ever came from entering in areas where dead things roam. You can't be sure if it's because of the magic in Hyrule, the living force of light and shadow and the divinity coursing through the land, or simply the will of the undead or the consequences of Demise attempting to claim the Triforce, graveyards and desolated fields meant silence, they should be where those who are gone should finally acquire their final catharsis, not to roam endlessly without release, solemn as these places are they are still places for a peaceful end and to be denied such due to the whims of the Shadow... You can think of very few awful fates that can compare.

('Terrible fates, you could say.' The grimly bemused part of your mind whispers, as you walk alongside Time further down into the crypt that you and the Chain had followed the shadow into, silver, prisitne armor briefly blends with old, rusted, bloody gold and you think you hear the rattling of bones in the distance, the draw of a rusted, but still serviceable sword. You shut it away with a snarl as you cut down the Stalfos attempting to ambush Wild from the rear, and it goes down and back into the darkness with a screech alongside the chilling knowleged and the sick cracking of broken bones, not on your watch, never on your watch, you refuse.)

"Of all places why did it have to be a bloody crypt?" Grimaced Warriors, casting a weary glance towards the skulls decorating the walls, their empty sockets empty but silently cutting, as if sneering at the fact you lot had dared disturb the dead, as if it wasn't the Shadow's mere presence making what would otherwise be a place for rest into a possible death trap.

Legend smirked, though you could tell he wasn't anymore pleased from the way he marched through the cold, cracked stone floor, steps flighty and eyes darting around corners, "What, a bit too much for you, soldier boy?"

"No," came the prim answer, although the twitch of the hand near his scabbard as you stepped into an open chamber gave him away, as well as Wind being kept at his side rather than near the wall, "Just don't generally like fighting the undead in closed spaces. It's a recipe for disaster."

"On that I believe we all can agree on." Came Time's voice, cutting through the banter, tense as a drawn bowstring, you knew being back in a crypt wasn't easy for him, with the way his jaw tensed, you both had the same awful memories of a similarly buried, abandoned place where dead things roamed without cease, frantic, hungry for the warmth of the living, "Keep your guard up, and stay close together."

Almost as if on cue came the monsters from the open corridors, you didn't hesitate in drawing your blade to cut through the enemy, keese were easily dispatched by Four and Legend's swords, you spun to slit the throat of a growling Wolfos from Twilight's era going for Sky's back just as he mercilessly chased down the Black Lizalfos, the beast clearly avoiding the glow from the Sword of Evil's Bane. Time's back to yours as you cleared the path for him and blocked the Shadow's exit through the left corridor, it had already proven that it would not matter if you did or not, but you refused to not let it work for survival.

The jolt of magic being used crawling up your spine was your first warning. Like the build up of lightning in a storm, the taste of rust and a feeling like tar  slithers up your throat.

The second was Wild's warning shout as the chamber shook with the grating, chilling, blood curdling howl of the Redeads, Time lunging away from your side to slash the beasts away from Wind and Warriors with all of the fury of a wolf defending it's pack, before you had to throw yourself back, slamming your back against the arch on the right as it caved in, lest you be crushed alongside the Wolfos coming for your neck the second the older hero moved.

You were separated.

You were alone.

A really, really bad spot to be when in Hyrule's catacombs.

"Are you alright?!", Came muffled from the other side of the stones, the hint of an actual wolf's growl and the distinctive Ordonian cadence, Twilight.

"I'm fine! Keep fighting, I'll find my way to you guys!", You yell back, heart racing, trying not to think about what you could find on your way back, you didn't have any bombs on you, it wasn't feasible to use them in a place as old as this, not without risk bringing down the ceiling on you and the Chain. But most catacombs have interconnected hallways, if you moved quickly, you might just avoid finding anything that you won't be able to handle on your own.

You think Twilight replies, but it's muffled by another Redead's yowl, you wince, your muscles lock up and you feel something warm drip from your ears, but thankfully you are not rendered immobile due to the involuntary wall, you swallow your trepidation and get moving.

The further you get away from the fallen stones, the more silent the catacombs extending from the crypt you were dropped in became, shadows twist oddly by the torches upon the wall with only your breathing and the cold, unfeeling remains of the dead to keep you company, the lowly burning flames bringing you no warmth. The corridors blended together in the darkness cast by the faint light, the shades contorting themselves in the crevices of your paranoia the longer you went on with only your own hurried footsteps to make any true sound.

Not one monster had found it's way to you thus far, though, and according to the copy of the map Legend had made the second you had acquired the original from a very unfortunate Wizzrobe from Wild's era. You just needed to pass one more open chamber to find the corridor leading to your boys, You couldn't keep them waiting, who knew how long it would take for the fight to finish if Redead's were involved? And staying still when the Shadow could turn itself intangible was practically begging it to switch it's attention, it usually didn't pay you as much mind as it did the heroes, Time specially (it seemed to hold a grudge against him more than any of your boys, you noted bitterly), but it would occasionally target you if it meant getting a rise from any of the Link's or if it felt you were too  secure in your safety, it was better if you found your way back first to the hunt before you became hunted.

You grit your teeth, by Hylia's dripping gash, you were so. darn. tired. of. being. hunted.

Of watching your friends being led into a wild hunt with no end in sight, dragged by the noose by a remnant that refused to stay dead, you never thought you could burn with so much anger, with the desire to see if fire would scare it sober into ceasing in it's infection of all of Hyrule's Eras. But unfortunately you knew it didn't work like that, so you had to survive, you would survive, because someone had to protect the heroes when the heroes protected everyone else and if no one was going to step up to the job, you'd just have to do it yourself.

Shaking yourself from your thoughts, lest you end up drowning in them, you breath in relief as soon as you come upon the metal door with the symbol of the royal family, faded and rusted with age, there. You just needed to pass through this chamber and the corridor next to it, and you'd be back with Link, all of them, and hopefully out of here. You push it open, grip tightening on your long dagger, almost a sword, good enough to cut and hide. The thick and pungent combination of old, congealed blood, sick and decaying flesh, something like rotten eggs dipped in alcohol and withered flowers hits your nose, making you nauseous but you press on, the chamber is circular and dimly lit, with a long cracked, soft stone from a leak in the walls. You studiously do not look at the far corner of the dungeon or the pillory's and shackles scattered around near the cells,  there's a second door to the other side, as soon as you pass through it you'll be in another corridor.

... It's silent, too quiet. Unease slithers and twists around you like vines, but you can't delay, you won't, so you keep walking-

Until you can't.

Something has grabbed a hold of your leg. You look down, and your blood freezes, spotting a long, sickly, pale arm and a bright crimson, elongated nails, claw-like, digging into your ankle, having dug itself up from the fragile ground.

You don't hesitate, slashing down violently at the offending limb, frantic terror spreads through your blood, you knew what was here. It featured in your nightmares for a long, long time, you knew it still haunted Time's, the limb goes slack as it is severed, and you barely note the way it starts bleeding black and green at the stump, thankful for Four's expert craftsmanship and maintenance hints as you dive to the exit. You don't make it far, it's companion limbs  bursting in front of your path like a snake emerging from the ground, it makes a solid grab for your  arms, one of them grabs you by the scalp, firmly digging as you dodge and weave between, a stabbing pain upon your skull from the indomitable grip of something fueled by fury, twisted magic and rigor mortis and makes you cry out, your slight moment of hesitation allowing two more hands to latch onto your legs and arms, nails slicing through your flesh like easily and digging, tearing like a rabid hunting dog's teeth upon an unfortunate deer, leaving deep gashes upon your arms and ankles, it's not unlike being pinned and held to a torture rack, in hindsight, ironic given just where in the crypt you ended up.

Your hear the ground below shifting below you, a groan carrying through the air, awfully monstrous, coldly human. You struggle harder like a desperate butterfly upon a dissection board, from your peripheral, you see the form of the thing unhurriedly dragging itself over, it uses the sharp and bloody ends of where bone was broken to slice it's hands off to shuffle out of the grave, using it's stubs as support. Long long neck barely supporting it's elongated head, the scent of rot intensifies and you feel like gagging as it settles it's empty, frigid, hungry eye sockets on your bound form; it's broken jaw contorting itself in a mockery of a human smile over rotten gums and exposed teeth, stretching unnaturally and bringing emphasis to it's rotting, bloodied sunken features. From behind it's bloated, putrid shape, barely obscured by the bloodied white cloth and the grotesque vision of the undead you swear the crimson eyes of the shadow, watching you coldly, the hint of a knife sharp, serpentine smile as the sound of wet meat slamming across the ground rings in the chamber.

Fury mixes with your panic as you snarl, trying to twist the dagger in your grip as best as you can to drive it into the arms, pain and blood drips from the open wound but you don't care; you need to get away from the Dead Hand. A monster like that feels no pain when struck for it is not human, not any longer, and you couldn't hope to face an infected one alone, it shuffles over the floor, unhurriedly shuffling like a predator that knows it's prey can't run away, it moans and groans with hunger as it approaches and you have no intention of giving it a meal, you grit your teeth as the nails sink deeply into your shoulders and arms, using your blade to saw through rotting flesh and hopefully break bone with every single inch of strenght you have, the blade is slick in your hand with your own blood and the poison-tar of the Shadow's infection burning through you but you do not mind, can't. You need to get away-

The undead's teeth sink into the hollow of your collarbone, blunt, human teeth that shouldn't have half the strenght it does to rip through flesh, blood and crack bone, and you caterwaul with pain, skin crawling and numbing and set aflame with curses sent from the dark reflection of the hero, darkening, veins blackening, your eardrums vibrate with the force of your own agony and you are sure you could rival a Redead on pitch alone of your tortured howl. Struggling even more ferociously, attempting to disloged it, kick it off, your blade sucessfully slashes through the arm from your reverse grip, pushing away from it with the savegery off a cornered predator you sink your long dagger into the undead's eye sockets, tearing through it's cheek with animal ferocity, it keens high and chilling, you're losing blood quickly and it (for it's not a human, not anymore, you can't feel sympathy for it, won't. You can't hesitate.) knows, for it tries to chomp down onto your vulnerable neck, your arm being the only thing keeping it from biting it out as you growl with pain, although you can't be sure it just won't bite through, it's teeth are bared, the pitch of it's blank eyes locked onto yours in stalemate, you have the advantage of not being weakened by hunger and decay, not sluggish like it but that will not help for long, the clammy being determined to bleed you dry and feast on your corpse and you are drowning drowning drowningDROWNINGWITHWRETCHEDTORMENT MAKE.THE.PAIN.STOP-

A scream of your name, sword calloused hands yank you away from claws and fangs (because nothing with blunt teeth and nails should be able to wound someone so throughly), you waver on your feet, swaying, supported by a warm, strong body and pulled away. A sword slashes the foul being away from you and you go lax, numb with pain.

First, First was supporting you. Keeping you steady, stopping you from falling, snarling at the corpse with a lion's fury, holding you protectively. Time tears by him like a man possessed, frenzied with the look of a man looking at his worst nightmare and growling in denial. The Links, wounded but alive, the Chain had met you halfway.

The last thing you remember before losing conciousness as adrenaline leaves your body and everything goes dark, is wishing that they'll burn it to be sure it's gone for good. It's the kindest thing that can be done for a such a wretched existence.

You'd be okay.

[stinkypire]

is it just me or did season 5 ep 8 soldify that it wasn't a plan? like in the manga, you think that way bc there's only sm art can show. but the anime, dazai sounded genuinely devastated. his expressions and the way his voice was so strained at the end of his speech. i don't think there is a plan, he had no choice but to kill chuuya because he thought it was the only way to get rid of dostoevsky and save the world from him. his voice sounds so similar to when he sounded when odasaku died, just so unbeliveably devastated.

[meganechan05]

When you're at a family event and you go into sensory overload...

[safyresky]

You read that meme right, folks!

I made the mistake of rereading Meet The Frosts the other day, realized HOW OUT OF DATE THE PROLOGUE LORE WAS, and promptly rewrote it.

You can check THAT out on ao3 HERE

(NOT on ff dot net yet bc ya girl hasn't edited it to match lol)

OR below the cut, IN FULL! THAT'S RIGHT! I'M POSTING IT HERE, IN FULL!!! FOR EASY, QUICK REF.

ENJOY!

🌹👑✨🌺

It wasn't every day Mother Nature felt stressed beyond belief.

Sure, what she did was stressful. She was, after all, the matriarch of all nature, and keeping the balance of all of nature wasn't the easiest thing to do. That in itself was a lot more complex than it sounded.

Thankfully, she didn't have to do it all by herself! She had help: her four lovely daughters, the Season Sisters.

They managed themselves quite well, inter-seasonal squabbles aside. They were the seasons, after all. Their help meant the world to Mother Nature; they meant the world to her. And they loved what they did, which made Mother Nature's own workload a lot easier (and a lot of fun, to boot).

She still chipped in, of course. After all, she was Mother Nature. She loved field work!

Unfortunately for her, there were other balance-related issues she took care of as well. And with the seasons taking care of themselves, this left her with a lot more time to take care of the multitude of said issues that arose throughout the world. Issues which seemed to be growing exponentially as the years passed by.

She did what she could, of course (though a lot of the work was long term and not as instantaneous as she'd like). She'd set things in motion, monitor them, and intervene when she could, and hope for the best as she worked what she often jokingly referred to as her second job: advisor to the entirety of the magical land of Crystal Springs.

Hidden away from the prying eyes of mortals and those who would mean harm to the magical beings that inhabited it, Crystal Springs was a bastion to all magical folk from all wakes of life. Named for the healing springs at the centre of the continent, it was located out in the Arctic Sea, just west-ish of the North Pole. A good majority of your average magical folk chose to make their home there, Mother Nature included. Here they lived peacefully, hidden from mortals and looked over by Mother Nature herself.

There was a governing body, of course; made up of five governors and eight lieutenants. And they looked after their designated locales well enough. But upon their founding they'd given Mother Nature a seat on what they called the Assembly, and more often than not turned to her for reassurance, final decisions, and so on and so forth. She had power of veto and the power to appoint the governors themselves. Being omnipotent did that to a gal, she supposed. And given the duty passed on to her by her predecessor, who was given her duty by the Goddess herself, well.

Mother Nature considered all of the magibeans her people, and made sure to look after them all, on top of all her other responsibilities.

And she did it damn well.

She had a system; she had balance. Nothing was ever out of place and when it was, she and the Seasons made sure to right them as swiftly as possible.

What nobody had expected when Mother Nature's system came into being was the mischief one Jack Frost tended to cause.

A lot more frequently than anyone would expect.

Mother Nature shook her head as she left the warmth of the North Pole's kitchen. She wondered if the Council as a whole had done the right thing after Jack's latest schemes. Him staying at the North Pole for community service was definitely concerning. He was…incredibly jealous of Santa, and that was putting it mildly.

But since it was Santa that Jack had tried to upstage two-hundred and seventy three times, it was Santa's final decision, whatever action the Council chose to take against Council Member Jack Frost.

And he had chosen community service of all things.

And they had agreed to it!

And NOW she had to put all of her regular duties aside to gather two-hundred and seventy cardboard cutouts, unfreeze a volcano, send geese back to Mexico (after she warmed it up a bit first, of course), AND deal with a SNOWSTORM in the AMAZON of all places. All while her worry about Jack's sentence sizzled on the back burner!

Needless to say, it was fairly easy for her to understand how Santa was feeling this year.

"Seems you have your work cut out for you today, Mother Nature."

"Tell me about it. A tropical snowstorm! Who on Earth would ever imagine a tropical snowstorm?!"

"Evidently, Jack." Father Time cocked his head. "He's always been quite the imaginative one."

Mother Nature tried to smile. But she found it very hard to do so when the weight of the entire mess she had to clean up hit her.

Her face twitched. She didn't know where, exactly, but there was a twitch. She could feel it.

"A wise woman once told me that even Legendary Figures need to ask for help once and a while," Father Time said, tapping the side of his nose. "Perhaps now is a good time for her to take her own advice?"

"Oh, she is already thinking that exact thing. Some help would most definitely be in order."

She could ask Summer to give her a hand warming things up. Spring could talk to the geese, and Winter could move the snowstorm…of course, considering whose fault this entire mess was, perhaps it was better if she left the two warmer seasons out of this mess. Or maybe kept the coldest season in the dark? Autumn could take care of the frosty problems and Mother Nature could move the snowstorm herself...

No, no. Spring would tell her eventually if she didn't find out on her own. Or already knew, even. 

Mother Nature sighed as she realized her only option.

"I'll have to go visit the Frosts."

Father Time smiled. "I assume Winter is in a talkative mood. Your visit will be about two hours and forty-four minutes. Would you like the seconds?"

"Oh, no need. I know you're always on the ball, Father Time."

The old man chuckled. "All the luck," he said with a wink, eyes twinkling as he faded into the folds of time, vanishing on the spot as silently as he had appeared by her side moments before.

"Thanks. I'm going to need it."

It wasn't long after that that she reached the outside of the Workshop. Glancing around to make sure there weren't too many elves in her area of effect, she disappeared in a flash of bright light. The snowy grounds and cheery far-off elves faded away, the tiny, colourful buildings blurring together and shifting into a gorgeous, low lit forest.

The trees around her were dense. Sunlight streamed through the branches, the ground dappled with little pinpricks of light. The trees in front of her shrouded a glowing lilac portal, the light from it casting them in a purple glow. 

The entrance to the large physics-defying garden she called home in Crystal Springs.

She needed a moment.

Rubbing her temples, she stepped through the portal and into a sunny clearing. Several stone paths spiralled out around her, foliage of all sorts bordering each one. Folding her hands gently in front of her, she surveyed the paths.

Between the work to be done and what had been done and the past that was threatening to have her dwelling for the next hour, she could feel a tension headache fast approaching.

A walk around the garden was just what she needed.

A moment to ground herself; to get her thoughts in order, let the dwelling happen (if it must), and prepare her before she brought Jack's mother, and perhaps the rest of the family as well, into the mess he had made.

🌹👑✨🌺

Mother Nature was not a procrastinator.

It wasn't in her nature. And it wasn't that she didn't enjoy seeing Winter and her family; quite the contrary. Visiting Frost Manor was always a delight.

It wasn't the Frosts themselves that caused Mother Nature to go for a stroll in her numerous gardens. Or nearly follow the stroll with a thoughtful soak in the river that ran through her garden. That wasn't the reason she was putting off her visit.

It was the dwelling.

It had started.

And Mother Nature found herself going down the age old rabbit hole she found herself constantly going down every time she went to go visit Winter to talk about whatever it was Jack had done this time.

Sighing, she turned away from the sparkling river and headed to her greenhouse kitchen, deep in thought.

The greenhouse was large and spacious. Sunlight streamed through the windows, plants growing amongst her counters and cabinets. Spanish moss hung from the cold box, the warmth hugging her as she put on a cup of tea. She wandered outside with her cup, sitting down at her favourite bistro table on the patio alongside the greenhouse.

She loved visiting Winter. She loved seeing the life she had built for herself. She loved visiting her grandkids, and loved seeing her son-in-law outside of the workplace. It was always a treat. The Frosts were a vibrant, eccentric bunch, always on the go with something or other and more than happy to chat at length about it—the youngest two, especially.

And she hated hated hated having to visit to deliver bad news. It always made her think of the messy history that led to the season’s estrangement with her eldest child and how it just wasn’t fair. Everything that had happened wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t even her fault!

But Fate was rarely fair.

And unlike the other Fates, their Fate loved to intervene.

See, Mother Nature’s dwelling usually went like so:

She would think about how awful it was that she had to deliver this type of news to the Frosts. Then she would think about the day Jack had left. The events leading up to it. And somehow she’d find herself drifting even farther back, thinking of the events that had led to Winter and Blaise finally being free to settle down and start a family together.

She’d think of the War of Succession. The Call. The Fae War. She’d find herself going so far as to think of a time before even herself! Way back when Mother Gaia roamed the Earth, well before she had created Mother Nature!

It was said that way back then, millennia ago, there was a time when magic roamed wild throughout the world. The era of Wild Magic. Ancient history to the magibeans.

And it was where Mother Nature’s dwelling often began.

It had been peaceful, the Wild Magic Era. Until the ordinary beings (non-magical folk) started taking advantage of the magical folk. Coveting the magic they used. Trying to steal it, wield it, deal it, even. It got violent. Magibeans were getting hurt. Killed.

Until Gaia stepped in.

She had been sent by the mythical creator of the mythical beings: the Goddess herself. The Goddess had a place for them, Gaia said. A place where they’d be safe from the magic hunters, free to live; to thrive. And she intended to bring everyone to the Springs.

A large undertaking, for sure. But to her surprise, she had help.

Two bright young summer sprites, one a master of his season, the other a brilliant warlock, both well known to magibeings and ordibeings alike, had already begun gathering their fellow magibeans and bringing them to safety throughout the world.

When Gaia reached the magibeans with news of the Springs, the two of them had stepped up to bat before the bat was even invented and took charge. They helped lead hundreds of magibeans to Crystal Springs, under Gaia’s watchful eye and careful guidance. And thanks to their efforts, everyone was brought safely and securely to the Springs, magibeans completely non-existent now in the outer world.

They established their settlements. The bright young summer sprites, Canicus and Serafina, continued leading, helping everyone settle where best suited, and giving those that had helped them help everyone small groups of their own to look after, establishing various hamlets, towns, and outposts throughout the new lands. So when the time came to figure out who would lead them all as a unit (Gaia had declined the position herself before it was even brought up), it was a no brainer: Canicus and Serafina would be ideal. They’d already been doing it for a good few decades, right? May as well make it official.

The pair of sprites themselves quite agreed. So much so that they married, securing their position with one another and choosing a name for themselves as one: Frost.

And so, King and Queen Frost began their official rule over Crystal Springs. A rule that did not let up for thousands upon thousands of years. The people looked to them, and they took care of the people. They kept everyone safe, by any means necessary, and Gaia was more than happy (and quite relieved) to slow down and live her life.

She’d created a protégé, you see: Tara, a sprite like herself who, thousands of years later sat in their Garden, sipping tea, thinking all the way back to those very beginnings and how Mother Gaia had laughed at the irony of the name choice.

It suits them, though, she had told a very young Mother Nature. It’s versatile, you know. Frost is beautiful…but it’s cold. And it can be deadly.

She said many funny little things. Wise things, too. Gaia had taught Tara everything she knew and once the sprite had achieved mastery of all nature, it was time for the second part of her education: diplomacy.

Why, it was on the occasion of her first official test that Gaia had turned to her and said, it’s best we don’t dawdle, Tara dear. Procrastination isn’t in our nature, you know.

And yet here she sat, doing just that.

But on that day, they’d been summoned urgently by the monarchs because something had happened. Something severe enough to warrant an out of breath messenger to tumble through the garden and topple in front of the stone dining table, catching their breath and holding a note out to the pair of them in the middle of their dinner.

The Queen, expecting, had delivered twins.

That had been a surprise for them all.

Queen Serafina was a brilliant warlock. She was well versed in all the magical ways: new, old, lost. She could go toe to toe with the best of the best—witches, wizards, sorcerers, and fellow warlocks alike would know nothing compared to the wealth of knowledge she possessed. She was put together, and strong, and regal, and everything a queen ought to be, or so everyone said.

But when Gaia and Tara arrived that night, she was distraught. She was angry. She was a mess (childbirth and all). Canicus didn’t even get to finish his greeting when Serafina looked up at them and told them with the utmost certainty and conviction and an undercurrent of fury that she knew exactly what had happened to make her boys be just that. Her boys, plural.

Upon her marriage to Canicus, Serafina had happily left behind a jilted paramour: Fate himself.

He had been young, at the time. The youngest of all the Fates. And when Serafina had spurned him, he watched and waited and planned the perfect revenge: split the heir apparent into the heirs apparent, amongst much confusion so as to ensure that the heir apparent wouldn’t be apparent at all.

Unfortunately for Fate, King Canicus was just as bright as his Queen.

Upon seeing two boys amongst the confused medical staff he’d immediately sent for Mother Gaia, who had brought Tara along as well.

Her first official task: help the King and Queen figure out which Prince would be next in line.

No pressure for a first challenge, right?

Mother Nature took a sip of her tea, taking a moment to cradle the hot cup close to her face, letting the steam waft, tickling her pores. Just ride it out, Tara, she thought to herself. Get through the past and back to the present and then we can figure everything out.

The twins were passed over to Tara and Gaia. Sure enough, they were similar in almost every single way.

Almost.

What Tara and Gaia both picked up on after a few careful moments of scrutinization was the hair: one boy had slightly darker hair than the other one.

Relieved, the Queen named the dark-haired boy Pyros and the light-haired boy Blaise and immediately began to discuss with Canicus what would be done in terms of succession, requesting the Matriarchs of Nature stay put for the proceedings. Tara had stood dutifully beside Gaia, watching as the medical staff cleaned Serafina up, the woman nursing her boys with ease while talking business with her partner.

(It had honestly been a little impressive. The woman had just given birth to TWO babies and was already right back at her royal duties).

Many ideas were floated back and forth. Some tame, some intense. Finally, the King and Queen turned to the Matriarchs and looked at them expectantly. Well? Serafina had demanded. What do you make of it all?

And Tara had no idea why she said what she said. She didn’t think; she simply opened her mouth and the words came out, unbidden, Gaia lighting up.

Let nature take its course.

That’s my girl, Gaia had said in her head as Canicus straightened and said The bloody hell do you mean by THAT!?

Let nature take its course, she had repeated. Raise them alongside one another; don’t pick one over the other just yet. Let them grow. See who they become. One will want to rule, and the other won’t. Watch them grow and learn and become the people they were meant to be and let their nature guide you.

The King and Queen had shared a look. Canicus raised an eyebrow; Serafina nodded.

Very well.

As you wish.

And so nothing silly happened. The boys grew up together as the Twin Princes, getting along just fine and seemingly both eager to learn and grow. And as they grew and learnt and became the people they were, it was apparent that what Tara had said was just about right.

Blaise, the light haired twin, didn’t seem keen on taking the crown. And Pyros, the dark-haired twin, did. And that was all fine and good except for one tiny itty bitty problem.

See, Blaise had all the makings of a ruler. Charismatic, caring, thoughtful, if a little bit troublesome at times. Pyros, meanwhile, was the exact opposite. Thoughtful of himself and those closest to him only; keen on power, seeing how far he could go, and eschewing any and all possibilities of interacting with their people, preferring to do his duties as independently as possible. Charismatic as well, but more often than not using it for his own gain amongst fellow castors and those he took a fancy too.

So although the nature of what they wanted differed from their personal nature, Mother Nature had been right. The boys came of age, and the time came for the decision to be made.

And the King and Queen did no such thing.

They put it off, and off, and off. They tried all sorts of things to test the pair of them, seeing who would be the best fit, and never agreeing on which boy it would be. One day Serafina would say Pyros; Canicus would say Blaise. The next, Canicus would say Pyros, and Serafina would say Blaise. On and on it went, the two boys never doing well enough in both the eyes of the King and Queen. The desires of the monarchs to keep the power blinded them to any obvious solutions.

Time passed. The thirst both boys had, one for freedom, and one for power grew and grew until finally, enough was enough. It was time someone put their foot down and made a decision.

And that's just what Pyros did.

He wanted the crown. Demanded it, even. Felt he was more deserving with all the time he’d devoted to learning everything there was to learn about power. He hadn’t quit his studies. Blaise had. Who was more deserving than he, Pyros? Obviously, he was meant to rule; not Blaise, the quitter, the twin that (suddenly in his eyes) should not have been. His conquest began that first night, when he sieged and seized the castle. The King and Queen disappeared to Rosehaven; whether or not they had done it themselves, or Pyros had made them, nobody knew. Not even Blaise, who somehow managed to escape mostly unscathed with as many as the castle staff and tenants as he could that hadn’t been swayed by the likes of Pyros.

And so the War of Succession began.

The trigger moment, if you will, and in her dwelling Mother Nature most certainly would. It was very much where it all began.

Forces were amassed; fortifications made, Blaise directing armies to keep the people safe while he tried desperately to reason with the brother he was oh-so-fond of.

But it didn’t work. Nothing did. Blaise was forced to fight as Pyros made moves to take the entire continent by force, refusing peace talks of any sort, and so he did what he needed to do. The fighting raged on, Blaise gaining ground until Pyros decided to outsource, if you will, culminating in them once again being revealed to the world.

Mortals joined the ranks of Pyros’s armies, wanting power, a taste of magic for themselves. And Pyros promised them that. So his armies grew, and people—both magibeans and ordibeings alike—were taken prisoner.

But magihumans didn’t like that very much, and they joined Blaise’s ranks, and everything came to a stalemate until Pyros did the unthinkable in a last ditch effort to turn the tides fully his way and win.

He took prisoners. Prisoners near and dear to those who opposed him.

Including Mother Nature’s very own children.

She had been furious.

She still was. Just thinking about it made her tea boil all over again! Refreshing her cup with a huff, she took a moment to ground herself. To feel angry about it all once again. To remember how she’d enlisted the help of the Grand Witches, the Head Warlock, the Sorcerers—every high ranking castor who was willing to help.

But Pyros was powerful enough to rival the Head Castors just by himself.

Each time they infiltrated, they were able to grab one season. Each time they came back, it got harder and harder to extract them.

Finally, when they went back the fourth time, they were defeated. Though Mother Nature had saved Spring, Summer, and Autumn, Winter was trapped.

Her sisters were beside themselves. They explained how every time Mother Nature and her forces had arrived, Winter made them go before her. And when the Head Castors finally had a gameplan, they learnt it would take days for them to overcome the magics in place and rescue Winter (and hopefully the other hostages, as well).

And that’s when Blaise had arrived in the Garden.

She felt the anger ebb away, finally leaving her. Taking a steadying breath, she sat back down, holding the warm cup tightly in her hands, watching as her reflection in the tea smiled softly.

Blaise had come to them with a plan.

He had infiltrated his brother's fortress, and had been planting his own men inside of the stronghold for the longest time now. He would be able to bring Winter back easily, no magic necessary.

And he had.

All her Seasons home with her, Mother Nature was able to fully give Blaise her attention and support. And it was a good thing, too, because Blaise had a secret weapon: The Kringle Elves.

All the elves had kept to themselves right up until the Seasons were kidnapped. That's when they had had enough. Wanting to rule was one thing, but wanting to upset the balance and rule over nature itself? To stop the seasons from doing their thing? That’s where they had drawn the line. They’d made an alliance amongst themselves, sending their forces out into the world to keep balance as best as they can while the Kringle Elves stayed put. They reached out to Blaise. An alliance was made, and the united forces put together plans for a large attack. It was ready to go. All they needed was the support of the castors, Mother Nature, and her Seasons.

All of which who readily agreed.

The final piece in place, they were ready. Blaise worked with the leader of the Kringles to figure out the best approach for the final attack, and Winter had come up with the perfect idea to put a stop to Pyros once and for all.

They both had, actually! Accidentally. During a botched escape.

Of course, Mother Nature had thought, as the pair of them looked up at her, war torn and jaded and yet, still sheepish and so very, very young.

But it would work! They assured. The botched escape had paid off.

Then let's put an end to this nonsense, Mother Nature had said.

With Blaise's forces on the inside and outside of Pyros' base, they took the victory easily. With help from the Seasons, Pyros was cornered; Winter herself froze him in his tracks and Blaise solidified it, the Mad Prince sealed away and peace once again coming to the land.

Crystal Springs was cloaked once more. Ordibeings were fixed up and sent home. Magihumans were integrated and welcomed to the Springs. Pyros was sealed away by a group of the finest castors in all the lands, and the issue of succession was finally put to rest.

The crown would go to Blaise.

Blaise took it graciously and decided that his first and only act as King would be to abolish the monarchy, full stop.

And so he did. And with Mother Nature’s help, plans were put into motion to free the magibeans. They could come and go as they please; they would always be welcome back at home, but not forced to stay there for their own safety. Every single royal law would be read through and adjusted, fixed, or withdrawn as needed. New lines were drawn and each area was given a leading body of their own, with a governor to oversee everything and bring it back to the rest of what became known as the Assembly.

Work started almost right after the final battle. In a year, a plan had been made for the next hundred years, after which they’d refresh the Assembly and keep on keeping on.

But at home, it took all of them a lot longer to recover.

After the battle, Winter had not been herself. It took Mother Nature a few days before it clicked. The experience of the War and becoming a prisoner had done a number to the sprite. She had frozen her heart. She was still pleasant as always, kind and caring…but in an aloof, sad kind of way. She would not open her heart to anyone.

Except for Blaise.

She had thawed his heart; and in turn, he worked to thaw hers.

They were smitten with one another. Always had been. They made one another happy, and though it came up as she dwelled, Mother Nature would never say that this part of the story wasn’t fair. It was perhaps the fairest part of all. Both Blaise and Winter had been through so much, they deserved to find love with one another and be with one another and that’s exactly what happened. The night Blaise proposed, Winter thawed for the second time in her life, and they got married that very evening. Mother Nature had officiated! And it wasn’t very long after that that they had their first child: Jack.

And that's when everything went downhill.

🌹👑✨🌺

Well, not exactly.

Mother Nature rubbed her temples, refreshing her tea for the umpteenth time.

Her stomach was in knots. The dwelling persisted. Rain pounded on the glass of the greenhouse, thunder rolling somewhere in the garden. The plants swayed in the wind, the trees around her bending and creaking as she grabbed a cookie from the half-empty plate on the counter (a handwritten note on the plate reading xoxo Autumn and stained with grease). The snickerdoodle was still soft in the middle, fresh as they had been when they were made yesterday.

You would think, that after EVERYTHING they had been through, Blaise and Winter would’ve been able to just live their happily ever after with their brand new addition. You’d THINK. But NO. Of COURSE not. It should BE so easy.

When he had finally passed through babyhood and managed to stabilize his little form, Jack was a very bright child. He was very quick to learn and eager to expand his horizons.

But there was something…off.

It had been there since the moment he was born, and it didn’t take Mother Nature long to realize just what it was. Like his mother before him, Jack was frozen. Born as such, it seemed.

But that’s not usually how that happened. Ever.

Sprites weren’t born OR formed with hardened hearts. It was something they actively chose to do as they came into being. The reasons varied from sprite to sprite, of course. But one thing was certain: when sprites were born they were as uninhibited as the elements that powered them and that they, in turn, wielded.

Except for Jack.

He had honest to Goddess been born as frozen as could be, and to a far greater extent than Mother Nature had ever seen.

Nothing was ever enough for him. He always wanted more, and more, and more, and that more never seemed to have a limit. A goal. A stop. And end. It was constant avarice, all the time, and it was exhausting.

He was studious; learned as much as he could. So much so that when he had mastered his season, it was said that he’d broken right into the afterlife to continue to learn from the long gone magibeans residing there. As he grew into his thousands, a consistent streak of trouble was never far behind him. It seemed he was simply incapable of not causing trouble wherever he went, always trying to do more, be more, and having it immediately backfire on him. Disagreements became more and more frequent between him and his parents; between them as well, Mother Nature noted on occasion.

Sighing, she leaned on the counter, watching the rain through the windows of the greenhouse kitchen. It was like there was some kind of unbeknownst evil driving him. A strong word to use, but apt. He’d shift the scales of balance quite frequently misusing his seasonal prowess, usually on purpose. He established himself throughout the continent, then throughout the world, earning himself a mythic status and a seat on the Council of Legendary Figures.

But it still wasn’t enough.

And then shortly after he got his seat, a new guy came to town: Santa Claus.

Jack had only been in his seat for a few centuries when Kris Kringle made his deal with Saint Nicholas, and the role of Santa Claus was created to spread wonder throughout the world. It was enough to give him a seat on the Council, too, and Jack Did Not Like That and made it known. Outspoken at meetings. Trouble increasing tenfold. He seemed to be getting worse and worse, and it wasn’t until Blaise and Winter had a second child that Jack's misbehaviour came to a rolling stop.

He had just reached his two-thousands. He had the world at his feet, a Legendary Title, renown in the outside world, and did not expect to have a sibling, ever, at all.

But a sibling he got. A cute little baby sister who looked as wintry as him. She, too, was a winter sprite, much to Winter’s delight (Blaise’s too—he’d had a grand old century making the same terrible jokes about being the only summer sprite in the family so far, but was pleased as punch anyway). A fan of matching sets, Winter named her Jacqueline (Jack having a grand old century making the same well obviously you named her after moi jokes), and once she was done with babyhood and had stabilized her little form, she was never very far from her older brother.

She had been a delightful little child, and the pair were practically attached at the hip. As the years went by, somehow he’d managed to be put in charge of her spritely education. Surprisingly enough, he took to it with ease, teaching her everything he knew and then some.

In fact, Mother Nature was quite convinced that had it not been for what happened with the darkness, Jack and Jacqueline would’ve continued on this way and his frosty heart would, perhaps, have thawed eventually. How could it not with such a relentless force of joy constantly at his side? That would’ve been fair and well deserved. Jack deserved to feel the full effects of his hard work, instead of constantly wanting more. Jacqueline would’ve gotten all of the older brother she so adored.

But of course, that’s not what happened.

The rain slowed to a gentle pitter patter. It thickened; it floated softly to the ground now, shifting into snow.

The…incident with the darkness had the Council create the role of Legate within their ranks. Someone to take over their titles and continue to protect the magic each one of them was in charge of should something happen to the original. It only made sense that when this Legate Law was passed, Jack picked his then four-hundred-year-old sister to take his title should something happen to him.

Every single one of them had a Legate, with the exception of Santa. The pact between Kris and Nicholas meant that Santa’s role already had a successor ensured, excluding him from the Legate proceedings.

This only served to remind Jack of all the things he’d disliked about Santa before his sister was born. It didn't matter that Jack had a season to himself, or that he was one of the most powerful Legendaries on the Council.

It wasn't enough.

That Santa Claus had chosen Jack's season, Jack's time to shine, for his holiday and had all but erased the reputation Jack had once known. Now when it snowed, it was Santa who everyone thought of first, Christmas over winter…and Jack never liked that. He liked it even less now, knowing that he was once again getting special treatment for being Santa Claus.

His little streak of trouble came back, and now, he had a target: Santa.

Outside, the snow fell faster. The pitter patter returned, small chunks of ice hitting the glass with little tinks. Things went from bad to worse and one night after a particularly nasty incident, Blaise confronted Jack.

Needless to say, it…didn’t go well.

Jack did not hold back. He let it all out. Elements were thrown. He hurt his father, and his mother, and nearly killed his little sister, and then left, never to see his parents or sister again.

Mother Nature couldn’t even begin to imagine how they must’ve all felt.

At least they had survived. Even Jacqueline. And given the extent of her wounds…it must’ve been dicey, in the week it took for the storm to dissipate enough for Winter to break through it and rush the little girl to the Springs.

The three of them had recovered. But it had been…hard.

And they weren't quite the same after it all.

Blaise was a little more tired. Looked a little more weighed down than he used to. Jacqueline was not as exuberant as she’d been before; she was always subduing herself, Mother Nature noticed. Trying to seem smaller and not as big of a presence as she used to be. And Winter…well.

The storm outside slowed. The snow shifted, back to a gentle, melancholy flurry.

Winter had frozen her heart again.

Mother Nature sighed. Placing her empty cup down gently in the sink, she stepped back outside. She lifted a hand, swirling it around her in the air. The snowflakes came towards her, fast as could be, the clouds following until a miniature little cloud of snow hovered over her palm, snowflakes drifting down and dusting her hand in a light layer of snow.

“Off you go, now. Go find a nice little suburb and do your thing.”

The mini snowstorm wrapped itself up into a tiny, little snowball as Mother Nature launched it. It soared away, already drawn to several suburbs that could use a good flurry. Mother Nature watched it go, tilting her face up and closing her eyes as the sun came back, the temperature warming up.

Things were different for the Frosts after everything went down.

They’d gotten back to their usual selves, of course. Nothing like a rambunctious teenager and two new summer sprites to get you back in the game. But there had always been something a little different and it simply wasn’t fair and THAT’S why she tried to avoid the business visits as MUCH as she could. She HATED visiting for Jack-related reasons. She’d much rather today be a regular run of the mill visit. A little catch-up, like yesterday’s coffee date with Autumn and tomorrow’s lunch date with Spring.

It simply wasn’t fair.

But then again, Fate never really was fair, was he?

“You got that right, Momma Nat.”

“Oh, for the love of—could you not do that? In my own home?”

Humourless laughter floated in on the breeze, the winds changing and getting colder. The laughter grew louder as a cloaked figure appeared on the seat across from the one she had vacated, the smoke surrounding him making it seem as though he flickered in and out of existence.

"Hey earth lady. You’re the one broadcasting your thoughts all over the place. I’m just doing my job.”

Mother Nature opened her eyes. “Which is what, remind me again? To annoy me? Mess with my family on purpose?”

He opened his hands in a sort of half shrug. “I unwind as I will, Nat. Have a seat! More tea? Fourth cup’s a charm!”

Mother Nature frowned, carelessly waving her hand. A stronger than necessary wind blew, the hood falling back to reveal milky grey eyes and tied back dark hair.

"What are you doing here? I have a lot to do."

“Really now? Huh.” He sat back in his chair, feigning surprise. “I never would’ve guessed. I thought it was tea time.”

Twirling his hand, Fate conjured a cup for himself. Throwing one leg over the other, he sipped it, smacking his lips and making a very big show of the whole thing.

“Mm. Delicious.”

Mother Nature could feel her face twitching again. She huffed, marching to the bistro table and sitting down directly across from him as strictly and regally as she could muster while trying her best to not show her very obvious annoyance. She glared, hard enough to freeze the table. Fate was one of the only immortals who really got on Mother Nature's nerves. He was so hard to be around!

“You are so easy to rile up, did you know that?” chuckling, he settled back into his chair, waving away the cup. “Taunting and teasing aside, I am here for a reason, you know.”

“Other than to bother me?”

“Believe it or not, yes! You go through this every time Frost does something, did you know that? The same train of thought each. And. Every. Time."

“I am aware. That’s very state-the-obvious of you. Where are the riddles? The rhymes?”

“Ah, I'm over them. Direct is best, or at least, that's my modus operandi these days. The other fates aren’t fans, either.”

“I wonder why. Something, something, directly interfering instead of watching and weaving and sniping and such?”

“What can I say? I’m hands in, not hands on. Besides, I’m not one single path. Fate is multiple paths, they can go anywhere and everywhere and what happens is up to you. Or at least, it should be. Miss me with that threads shit.”

“And I suppose, given the past, you’re an exception to that rule.”

“Yes.”

“Mm. That’s what I thought.”

“Snippy today, aren’t we? Pre El Niño?”

Mother Nature made a low sound in her throat.

“Right, crossed a line; bad joke. I get it! My bad.” He held up both hands in front of him, in a tiny show of surrender. “I'll get to it then."

"Please do."

"I am here today to tell you that you…are right.”

Mother Nature hummed happily.

“Yeah, yeah, enjoy it while you can, Earth Lady. Look, here’s the thing. Every time Frost does something that causes you to visit the family, you are fated to have the same train of thought and redirect it all to me. And unfortunately, you are right, Tara.” He shifted forward in his seat. “See, we all make mistakes in our youth and not all of us recognize that and come to terms with it. But some do.”

“Oh, and this suddenly includes you?”

“Yes.”

For once, Fate sounded earnest. He recrossed his legs, cloak drifting around them as he looked up and off into the distance.

“Hmm. Good to know.”

“You sound unconvinced.”

“Can you blame me?”

“Nah.”

Mother Nature was pleasantly surprised. She blinked, her posture relaxing as she watched the fate closely. He uncrossed his legs, waving his hand. The tea cup came back, steam still wafting off the top.

“Hmm. Good to know.”

“Things will be changing this year though, Earth Lady, and that's why I'm here." He leaned forward across the table, almost touching noses with Mother Nature. "In order to rectify everything, you need to go visit the Frosts. Yet you sit here dallying. I’d say, you know, tit, tit, Momma G would not approve, but! Given her “rush” over to the palace the night the Princes were born…well, I think we both know that’s not quite correct.”

“Their messenger interrupted our dinner, Fate. Gaia wasn’t about to go on the clock on an empty stomach, and nor would she want me to do the same.”

“No, I’m not complaining! I appreciated it! The two of ‘em were so annoyed.”

“Mostly at you.”

“Well, when you learn someone never actually loved you, you can do crazy things.” He let go of the teacup. It floated beside him in mid-air. “Anyway, that’s why I’m here right now! I did a…fair amount of crazy things. BUT. The threads have all lined up and led us here.” He tapped the table top with his index fingers, leaning forward. “See, I did the whole Fate-thread-watching-thing and I have great news.” He grinned, wiggling in his seat. “All the threads are leading up to have this whole thing wrapped up with a neat little bow, but it all rides on you going to visit your Frosts."

He leaned back again, the floating teacup making its way back to his outstretched hand as he took a big, undignified slurp.

“Well, lucky for you, I'm afraid tea time has been significantly ruined for me.” Mother Nature stood up, glaring at Fate. “I'll be more than happy to take my leave now. Don’t be here when I get back.”

Not waiting for a reply, Mother Nature popped off in a brighter than usual golden glow, ignoring Fate’s cackling as she faded away. He settled in, sipping his tea and enjoying the sights of the garden.

The singular thread he had followed here split.

He smiled, content. Good. Things were back on track now. Multiple possibilities, all making their way towards the same end goal: fixing the mess he had made thousands upon thousands of years before. The players in place. Their choices theirs. And all he'd had to do was antagonize Tara.

Easy-peasy.

He could only hope the rest of the pieces would fall into place as easily as this one had.

That's all any of them could do, really.

Finishing off his tea, Fate disappeared from his spot, the garden left in peace once more.

[remcocoa]

.

[ajelementus]

That Time Jason Threw Tim off a Roof

Jason and Tim:(hanging on for dear life after smacking into a building) Jason (both hands clinging to the grapple): I thought this kind of window was supposed to break! Tim (arms a death-grip around Jason's waist, staring wide-eyed at the drop): Gotham had them all redone awhile back. Kind of done with all the Supervillains breaking and entering via the 25th floor. Jason: You're rambling! Tim: You knocked me off a building! Jason: Technically, you fell off a building. And I saved you. Tim: Sure. I feel so safe. Jason: Look. I need you to get over that for a second and get one of the explosives out of my utility belt. Tim: Since you STOLE mine and THREW ME OFF A BUILDING?! Jason: We went over this and YES! We need to blow open the window 'cause I can't climb this thing with your dead weight! Tim: Fine. Tim: Tim: (rummaging) Tim: You sure put a lot in these. Jason: And you don't? I know you do. Tim: Snap, that's a lot of guns. Jason: Yep, and if you don't hurry it up and we fall to our deaths, I know who I'll be using them on. Tim: Alright, alright! Tim:(more rummaging) Tim: Hey! These are ours! Jason: Can we work out the whose is whose after we blow the window?! Tim: Ok, ok, I got it-- Jason: Don't drop it. Tim: I won't. Tim (sticking his tongue between his teeth and pressing the charge): Brace! (Both boys yelling as the charge goes off and they swing into the newly made hole in the glass with their momentum) Tim: Jason: Tim: Tim: Holy crap. Tim: Holy crap, we almost just died. Jason: Jason: Yep. Tim: You tried to kill me. Tim:...and then saved me? Jason: You really can't get over the roof thing Tim: IT WAS KIND OF A BIG THING! Jason (shrugging): Truce? Tim: Oh my gosh who are you.

[maegalkarven]

Also in Nemo's timeline he never had a foster family. He has always lived where he was created, in the temple of Bhaal.

And Sarevok raised him. Sarevok was the one to convince their Father the child should stay right where he belongs - in the temple. Raised in the safety of the sacrament of murder, taught properly.

Orin almost didn't happen in this AU, since Sarevok had his hands full raising One True Bhaalspawn, but in the end she was created almost as an afterthought, the spare in order to fulfill Father's plans if anything would happen to Nemo. She was always just the second to Nemo, his shadow. A background noise even to her own father/grandfather.

It makes the whole of Nemo's journey worse because for him Bhaal's cult was a family. Orin, awful she was, was his annoying little sister. Sarevok was his grandfather, brother and mentor all in one.

And then it all came crambling down because of Orin.

And Nemo would never admit any personal fault in that because all he did - he did for Father (lies, lies, lies. But the ones he genuinely believed in.)

[teenpepe]

Post-nut clarity is when I kick Astarion in the balls because he's about to turn me into a vampire spawn.

[lightyearssurrogatedaddy]

Whoops.

[criminalisticonsultant]

don't know but I can tell u there's a prick on the inside of it

[beardedmrbean]

[whistlingstarlight]

I hope you have the most amazing time!:)

Thank you! Only a couple weeks to go now, I'm very excited but very nervous too😅