#like Aster struggles with herself

[bloos-bloo]

This is so lazy- but since I did that one animatic of Astaroth and Kal I had this in my head

ALSO AN EXCUSE FOR ME TO INFO DUMP YIPPEEEE

When the children all learn of their family’s past, they start reading old testimonials and books! Aster and Kiki do most of the research while Basil and Gravel focus more on what to expect, they all come together and share the information they learn (like a group project type thing-)

Around this time is where Kiki starts to worry about herself, she gets VERY insecure about her looks. To her, she found her Dad’s pictures and paintings VERY beautiful. Kallamar kept an image of beauty, it was something their followers adored- sickness is usually very ugly. So they wanted to express illness in a way that makes it pretty.

Kiki doesn’t believe she’s pretty enough to do it. She wants to keep her dad’s image alive, she doesn’t want to change it. It makes it worse that she starts developing features when she’s crowned. You BEST believe she has ALLLLL mirrors covered for a good bit-

Yaaayyyyy body and facial dysmorphia- I know this feeling very well

[moonlitstoriess]

The Hidden Legacy- A Ruhn Danaan x Rhysands sister series

Chapter 1: The Echoes of a Forgotten Name

Summary: Rhysand’s sister, Seraphis, long thought dead, was taken by the Asteri/Valgs, her memories erased and turned into a ruthless killer loyal to their cause. After Bryce kills the Asteri, Seraphis seeks vengeance on her and everyone else involved. As she hunts them down, Rhysand and the Inner Circle discover the shocking truth: she’s alive, and now their enemy.

See masterlist

Chronomancy: The mastery of time, allowing one to bend, twist, and manipulate the fabric of temporal reality.

The Asteri realm, once an epitome of unyielding power, now lay in ruins. The remnants of it's dark grandeur whispered of a time when it reigned supreme. Shadows flitted through the crumbling architecture, now an empty expanse where the only echoes were those of a fallen empire. The stillness was profound, the silence punctuated only by the faint hum of residual magic.

Amid the debris walked Seraphis, her presence a stark contrast to the desolation around her. Clad in a black cloak that fluttered with her steps, she was a figure of cold determination. Her eyes, sharp and calculating, scanned the remnants of what had been the heart of the Aster's domino. To her, this destruction was not merely a loss but a catalyst for a deeper mission.

Seraphis' existence had been shaped entirely by the Asteri. From a young age, she was taken and molded into their perfect soldier. They told her that her parents had abandoned her, leaving her out on the streets as a newborn to die. She was an orphan with no form of family, no parents or siblings. Her upbringing was harsh and uncompromising. She was trained to harness the full spectrum of temporal manipulation--abilities that allowed her to travel through time, reverse it's flow, and manipulate it's very essence. The Asteri had crafted her to be both a weapon and a guardian of their interests.

Under their guidance, Seraphis had become a master of time's complexities. Once she was old enough and they deemed her fit for it, the Asteri took her with them to new world's as they went on conquering--no sharing their greatness with the world. That's how she ended up joining them when they would go from one universe to another, her time-manipulating power's growing stronger with each time.

She remembers how in Erilea she would send Maeve and Erawan the direct orders coming from the six Asteri. Of course, no one was more pissed than Seraphis when that Aelin Galathynius and her lapdogs ended up winning the war. Well, atleast they got rid of incompetent idiots like Maeve and Erawan. She also played a covert role in the shadowy events that unfolded, aiding the Valgs in their machinations and ensuring their influence remained unchecked. She had begged Polaris, The North Star, to let her go finish what Erawan couldn't but...they didn't allow her, seeing her as too valuable to risk.

When the Asteri's control extended to Midgard, Seraphis continued her work with the same ruthless efficiency. She wove through the intricate tapestry of its politics and power struggles, her presence a silent but undeniable force. Her actions, often unseen, played a key role in the Asteri's manipulation of the city's dynamics.

Now with the fall of the Asteri and their defeat at the hands of Bryce Quinlan, Seraphis found herself in a new reality. The Asteri, the only family--no matter how cruel--she had ever known, were gone, and their cause lay in ruins. Austrus, Eosphoros, Hesperus, Octartis, Polaris, Sirius, Vesperus and....Rigelus.

Oh, Rigelus.

Though millions of years older than her, Seraphis was the only being ever that Rigelus didn't look down on. Instead, he saw her as a close second, always being kind towards her--or as kind as someone like him could be. The respect and authority she held over everyone else just like Rigelus and the other Asteris was impressive.

Seraphis wouldn't call what they had with him love. No, a far cry from that. More like a sick obsession and posession that he felt towards her, always having her watched and protected, kept by his side on every event and conquest. And Seraphis loved every moment of it. She didn't care if that made her look sick, yearning for his and only his attention.

No one could ever understand what she and him had anyway.

Does it matter now? No. No, it doesn't.

Their loss ignited a fierce loyalty within her, driving her to seek vengeance. Those Midgard rats, particularly the bastard Bryce Quinlan, had disrupted everything she had been programmed to protect. Seraphis's focus was singular and unyielding. Her powers, unparalleled in their scope, were a tool for her vengeance. The remnants of the Asteri's legacy would be avenged, and she would ensure that their enemies paid dearly for their defiance.

Maybe, maybe Rigelus was against her being in the battlefield and focusing more on improving her powers more for this very reason. Knowing him and how he would always be fifteen steps ahead of everyone, even his fellow Asteri's, Seraphis wouldn't be surprised if he knew something like this would happen and she would be left as the one to avenge them.

Seraphis’s thoughts were interrupted by a faint sound—a shuffle, almost imperceptible. Her head snapped toward the noise, eyes narrowing as a figure stepped out from behind a crumbled pillar.

The figure was hunched, draped in ragged robes that trailed on the ground, their face obscured by a deep hood. There was something otherworldly about them, an eerie stillness in their movements, as if they weren’t quite tethered to the reality around them.

An oracle, perhaps. Or one of the soulless travelers that drifted through the remnants of the universe, always seeking but never finding.

“You,” the stranger rasped, their voice a dry whisper carried by the wind. “You are lost.”

Seraphis’s expression remained impassive, her hand resting lightly on the hilt of a blade at her side. “I am not lost,” she replied, her voice cold. “I know exactly where I am.”

The traveler’s hooded head tilted slightly, as though studying her. “Do you? You walk among ruins, chasing ghosts of a fallen empire. What is it you seek, child of time?”

Seraphis bristled at the title, her grip tightening on the hilt of her blade. “That’s none of your concern.”

The figure seemed to sigh, a sound that echoed strangely in the empty space. “Vengeance is a heavy burden to bear. The threads of time do not forget. Every action leaves a scar, every choice a ripple. You of all beings should understand this.”

Seraphis regarded them with a penetrating stare. “The Asteri were my family. Their enemies are now my enemies. The vengeance I seek is not for solace but for justice.”

The stranger nodded slowly, their gaze thoughtful. “Justice and vengeance are often indistinguishable in the eyes of those who wield power. But remember, the threads of time you manipulate weave through all that exists. Even in vengeance, there are consequences that ripple forward.”

Seraphis stiffened, her eyes narrowing. “You speak in riddles. Say what you mean.”

The traveler raised a bony hand, palm out, as if to placate her. “I mean only this: Beware of the paths you walk, for time is not a line, but a web. Tug on one thread, and you may find yourself tangled in another. The truth you seek may not be the truth you remember.”

A flicker of unease stirred in Seraphis’s chest, but she pushed it aside. “I know my truth. I will restore the legacy of the Asteri.”

The traveler bowed their head slightly, as if in resignation. “Then may you find what you are searching for. But remember, time itself may turn against those who wield it carelessly.”

Seraphis said nothing, her jaw clenched as the traveler slowly turned away, disappearing into the shadows as if they had never been there at all.

She stood still for a moment, staring after them. Their words clung to the air, echoing in the empty halls of her mind. But she pushed them aside as she always had. There was no room for doubt, no room for hesitation.

There was only vengeance.

Seraphis remained standing, her figure outlined by the towering ruins of the Asteri realm as she watched the shadows engulf the mysterious traveler. Doubt was a weakness, a sentiment she had long been trained to overcome. Her purpose was clear.

Turning back to the wreckage of the Asteri empire, she let her gaze wander over the shattered remains, of what had once been untouchable. Each piece of debris, every crumbled wall, was a reminder of her mission--of the legacy she would rebuild through blood and retribution. The ancient cities, once towering, had now faded into dust, but she would ensure that their enemies would remember them. They would remember through pain, through fear, and through her.

She moved through the ruins with a calculated stride, her mind already spinning threads of time, pulling at the edges of the past. In her hands, time was no mere concept—it was a weapon, one she had sharpened over centuries. She had walked between the lines of history, bending it to the will of the Asteri. They had shaped her, honed her into the ultimate instrument of control.

Rigelus had always been there—overseeing her progress, pushing her further, demanding more. Where others would have seen cruelty, Seraphis had only seen purpose. His obsession with her, the cold possessiveness, had been her source of strength. It drove her to perfect her abilities, to become more than just a soldier. She was his favorite, his chosen, and she had relished every moment of his attention.

The whispers of time teased her now, fragments of events from Erilea and Midgard slipping through her consciousness. Maeve and Erawan had been her pawns, their strings manipulated under the orders of the Asteri. She had done their bidding, silently observing the collapse of entire worlds, her presence unknown to the mortal players. Aelin Galathynius, Bryce Quinlan—all of them had merely been cogs in the Asteri’s grand design, and yet, somehow, they had prevailed.

Seraphis’s jaw clenched. She could still remember the sting of watching Aelin ascend, of seeing Erawan fall. The threads of time she had woven through that world had come undone, slipping from her grasp, leaving her powerless to intervene. That Aelin had won infuriated her. She’d wanted to be there to ensure Erawan’s success, to be the force that would crush the rebellion—but Rigelus had forbidden it.

And now, Bryce Quinlan. Seraphis’s hands twitched, her magic itching at her fingertips. The half-fae princess had killed the Asteri, destroyed everything Seraphis had been built for. Seraphis knew that Bryce’s power over the Gate was formidable, but it wouldn’t save her. No, not when Seraphis had centuries of control over time at her disposal. The moment would come, and Bryce wouldn’t even see it approaching.

But she couldn’t rush. Not yet.

Seraphis knew that striking without preparation was foolish, especially after the Asteri had been blindsided. Bryce would be expecting retaliation, the remnants of Midgard’s population on high alert. Seraphis needed time to plan, to gather intelligence, to weave herself back into the folds of the worlds that were left.

And maybe, just maybe, she’d need allies.

She came to a halt at what had once been the central hall of the Asteri’s council. The chamber had once thrummed with power, where decisions that shaped entire worlds had been made. Now, only silence reigned here. Seraphis’s silver eyes flickered as she raised a hand, time itself responding to her unspoken command. The air shifted, the ruins stirring as she pulled at the threads of the past.

For a moment, the hall was whole again. The pillars straightened, the ceiling restored. Seraphis stood at the heart of it, watching as ghostly figures flickered into place. The Asteri council in all its glory—Rigelus at its helm, the others in their seats. She stepped forward, her fingers grazing the edge of the spectral table.

“I’ll restore it,” she whispered, her voice filled with cold resolve. “I’ll bring you back.”

She let go, and the illusion faded as time returned to the present. The ruins crumbled once more around her. The past, it seemed, was not yet willing to reveal its secrets.

But Seraphis knew it was only a matter of time before she’d be ready to act. The Asteri’s cause had not died with them, and neither had their most powerful soldier.

She turned, her cloak swirling around her as she left the council chamber behind. The traveler’s words, though dismissed, lingered in her mind like an unwanted guest. The idea of consequences—of time itself rebelling against her—was absurd. She controlled time. She was time. The scars she carved into the fabric of history were her own to shape.

As she stepped out into the barren expanse once more, the wind picked up, swirling dust into the air. Seraphis narrowed her eyes. She wasn’t alone.

A voice, soft and detached, called out to her again. “Still chasing ghosts, I see.”

Seraphis’s hand was on her blade in an instant as she turned toward the sound. The traveler from earlier stood at the edge of the ruin, watching her with the same unsettling stillness. This time, though, they did not approach.

“I thought I told you to leave,” Seraphis said, her voice a low growl.

The traveler smiled, though it didn’t reach their eyes. “I did. But time has a way of bringing us back to the places we least expect.”

Seraphis’s patience wore thin. “You enjoy speaking in riddles. Speak plainly or be gone.”

The traveler’s smile faded, their voice lowering. “I am not your enemy, Seraphis. But your path is darker than you realize.”

“I know my path,” she snapped. “And I don’t need your advice.”

The traveler studied her for a moment longer before nodding slowly. “Very well. But remember this—time is not as loyal as you think.”

With that, the traveler turned and walked into the wind, their form fading into the dust.

Seraphis stood there, alone once more, her mind already discarding the encounter. There was only one thing that mattered now: finding Bryce Quinlan and finishing what the Asteri had started.

She would bring time itself to its knees to see it done.

With a final glance at the desolate landscape that had once been the center of her life, she turned on her heel and began to walk, her steps deliberate, her mind racing with plans. She couldn't afford to waste any more time in this hollow place of memories. Midgard awaited her, Bryce and her puppets blissfully unaware of the storm that was coming for them.

Seraphis extended her hand, her fingers shimmering with the familiar hum of temporal power. She closed her eyes, focusing on the thread that would lead her to Midgard. Time bent to her will, the universe shifting around her as she tore through the veils of reality.

When she opened her eyes again, she was no longer in the ruined empire. The air was crisp and cold, the sky above a muted gray. She stood at the edge of Lunathion, the sprawling metropolis stretching out before her, it's towers scraping the sky.

For a moment, Seraphis took it all in--the hum of life and magic, the scent of the sea carried on the breeze, the distant sounds of the city's chaos. It was an intricate web of power, alliances and fragile peace. She would tear through it all.

She pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders, her mind already calculating her next move. Bryce Quinlan might have been the one to kill the Asteri, but she wasn't foolish enough to think that her target would be that simple. Bryce wasn't alone--she had allies, strong ones, and it would take more than brute force to bring them all down.

No. She would need to be smarter, patient. The plan would unfold piece by piece, and by the time they realized what was happening, it would be too late. The city would be hers to dismantle, it's champions falling one by one.

Seraphis began to walk, blending into the crowd with ease, her hood low over her face. The streets were filled with fae, shifters, and ordinary citizens going about their lives, blissfully aware of the storm brewing in their midst.

This was no longer just about vengeance. It was about control--taking back what had been ripped ripped away from her. And Seraphis had no intention of stopping until the last remnants of these street rats were nothing more than dust.

Let the games begin.

Seraphis moved through the crowded streets of Lunathion like a shadow, unnoticed and undisturbed. She watched the people around her with detached curiosity, studying them, their movements, their habits. They lived in this world, so sure of their safety, of the new order that had come with the Asteri’s fall. Fools. 

The Asteri had been invincible for eons, and now that they were gone, these mortals believed themselves free. But freedom was an illusion, fragile as glass. Seraphis would shatter it.

Her power thrummed beneath her skin, the flow of time bending ever so slightly as she moved. With a mere thought, she could slow it to a crawl, watch the world freeze around her while she continued untouched. But now was not the time for such displays. Now was the time for observation, for patience.

She knew the city well, even if she had never set foot in it herself before now. Through the Asteri’s influence, she had seen Lunathion grow, its streets mapped out in her mind long before her arrival. The Asteri had ensured her knowledge was extensive, always keeping her one step ahead of their enemies. That was how she had operated—always in the shadows, just out of sight, but always present.

Bryce Quinlan was the key to it all. She had torn down the Asteri, and for that, she would suffer. But Bryce wasn’t the only one on her list. Hunt Athalar, Ruhn Danaan, and all the other lap dogs. All of them had played their part in toppling the only order Seraphis had ever known.

As she passed through an open market, Seraphis paused, her gaze locking onto a news holo-screen. The display flickered to life, showing a broadcast about the city’s newest heroes. Images of Bryce and her allies flashed across the screen, their faces well-known to everyone by now. The city had hailed them as saviors, but Seraphis only saw targets.

Her lips curled into a faint sneer. “Enjoy the limelight while it lasts,” she muttered under her breath. “It’ll all come crashing down soon enough.”

Without another glance, she moved on, slipping into an alleyway where she could plan her next steps in peace. She leaned against a brick wall, closing her eyes briefly as she reached out with her powers. Time was a river, flowing constantly, but she could see its branches, the possible futures that stretched out before her.

She saw herself confronting Bryce, the clash of power, the chaos that would unfold. But it was distant still—there were obstacles to remove first, pieces to shift into place. She saw glimpses of Bryce and her minions, saw them moving through their lives, unsuspecting. They had no idea she was here, that she was watching, waiting.

But something else stirred at the edges of her vision. Something… unfamiliar.

Seraphis frowned, her concentration breaking as she pulled back from the threads of time. There was a presence she hadn’t expected, a ripple she couldn’t quite place. Someone—or something—was watching her in return.

Her eyes snapped open, and she tensed, scanning her surroundings. The alley was empty, the market bustling just beyond, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being observed. Her hand moved instinctively to the blade at her hip, her muscles coiled for action.

“Show yourself,” she called softly, her voice low and dangerous.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Then, from the shadows at the far end of the alley, a figure emerged.

They were tall and cloaked, their face hidden beneath a deep hood. But unlike the ragged traveler she had encountered in the ruins, this one moved with purpose, with grace. There was a weight to their presence, a power that prickled at the edges of Seraphis’s awareness.

“Seraphis,” the figure said, their voice smooth and calm. “It’s been a long time.”

Seraphis’s eyes narrowed, her grip tightening on her blade. “Who are you?”

The figure took a step closer, their movements slow and deliberate. “You don’t remember me, do you? Perhaps that’s for the best.”

Her patience was wearing thin. She stepped forward, her power surging to the surface, the air around her thickening as time began to bend. “I won’t ask again.”

The figure paused, as if considering their next words. “I’m not here to fight you. In fact, I’m here to offer you something.”

Seraphis’s eyes darkened. “I’m not interested in offers.”

“Oh, I think you will be,” the figure said, a hint of amusement in their voice. “You’re here for revenge, yes? To make those who wronged the Asteri pay?”

Seraphis remained silent, her gaze cold.

The figure chuckled softly. “You may be powerful, Seraphis, but even you can’t take on this crew alone. They have allies, resources—things you can’t even begin to imagine. But I can help you. I know things. I know their weaknesses.”

Seraphis tilted her head slightly, intrigued despite herself. “And why would you help me?”

The figure’s hood shifted as if they were smiling beneath it. “Let’s just say I have my own score to settle with Bryce Quinlan and her friends. We share a common enemy.”

Seraphis studied them for a long moment, her instincts on high alert. She didn’t trust easily—especially not strangers who appeared out of nowhere offering help. Whoever they were, they were dangerous. But perhaps, in this case, dangerous could be useful.

Seraphis let her hand fall from the blade at her hip, though her guard remained up. “You speak as though you know much. And yet, you haven’t even shown me your face.”

The figure laughed softly, a low, melodic sound. “Trust isn’t something freely given, is it? But for now, let’s keep things this way. You’ll find out more when the time is right.”

Seraphis’s eyes narrowed, but before she could respond, the figure stepped back, already fading into the shadows. “Find me when you’ve made up your mind,” they called over their shoulder, their voice trailing off. “You know where to look.”

And with that, they were gone. Only the stillness of the alley remained, along with the faint hum of magic in the air.

Seraphis stood there, contemplating the encounter. Whoever the stranger was, they clearly knew more than they let on. If they could be trusted—or if she could control them—they might be the key to speeding up her plans. For now, she’d keep her distance but watch closely. 

She pushed herself away from the wall, stepping back into the crowd, disappearing once again into the flow of this metropolis life. Her focus sharpened. She didn’t need anyone’s help—yet. She would deal with Bryce and her gang in her own way. But there was something about that presence earlier. It lingered, unsettling her in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time. It wasn't quite like anyone she'd known before.

Moving toward the heart of the city, Seraphis caught a flicker of movement to her left. Just a glance, quick, fleeting—but her gaze caught it in time. A tall figure, cloaked in shadows, moved through the market. For a split second, his profile appeared—just long enough for her to notice the tattoos curling up his arms, the way his eyes scanned the surroundings like a predator assessing the area.

Ruhn Danaan.

She didn’t know him. But as her gaze followed him for that brief moment, something stirred in her. A pull. It was faint, distant, almost unnoticeable. She clenched her jaw and forced it aside, refocusing her attention.

He turned a corner and vanished into the crowds, oblivious to her watchful eyes. 

Good. He should remain that way for now. Her target wasn’t him—not yet. She had bigger prey to hunt.

But as she moved away, that strange feeling lingered in the back of her mind.

Seraphis continued through bustling streets, her mind a storm of plans and calculations. She navigated the urban labyrinth with practiced ease, the weight of her mission pressing heavily on her shoulders. The city’s vibrant life was a stark contrast to the darkness she harbored within.

As she walked, she observed the people around her with a cold, analytical gaze. She noted their routines, their behaviors, and the various places that could serve her needs—resources, potential allies, or convenient places to remain hidden. The city had a pulse, a rhythm that she had to understand if she wanted to exploit its weaknesses.

Finally, she found a small, nondescript motel tucked away on a quieter street, away from the main thoroughfares. Its faded neon sign buzzed faintly in the dusk, and the building itself seemed to blend seamlessly into the backdrop of the city’s urban sprawl. It was perfect—low profile and unremarkable, a place where she could stay under the radar.

Seraphis pushed open the door to the motel with a practiced nonchalance, the bell above the entrance jingling softly as she stepped inside. The small lobby was dimly lit, and the air carried the faint, musty odor of old carpets and stale coffee. Behind the reception desk, a man sat hunched over a magazine, his eyes glancing up as she entered.

The man looked up, startled by her sudden appearance. He was in his mid-forties, with a graying beard and weary eyes. He quickly set the magazine aside, his expression shifting from mild curiosity to apprehension as he took in her commanding presence.

Seraphis walked up to the counter, her gaze sharp and unyielding. She placed a stack of cash—more than enough to cover the cost of a room—on the desk, her fingers lightly drumming on the surface as she spoke. “I need a room. Now.”

The man’s eyes widened as he took in the cash, and he gulped nervously. “Of course, ma’am. Right away.” He fumbled with a set of room keys, his hands trembling slightly as he tried to keep his composure.

Seraphis leaned closer, her voice a cold whisper. “I don’t want to be disturbed. Understand?”

The man nodded vigorously, his face pale. “Yes, yes, of course. Room 7. Just down the hall to the left.”

Without acknowledging him further, Seraphis took the key and turned to leave. The man watched her go, his relief palpable. As she walked down the narrow hallway, she heard him muttering under his breath, though she couldn’t make out the words. It was clear he was shaken, and that was exactly what she wanted.

Once she reached Room 7, Seraphis unlocked the door and stepped inside, closing it behind her with a decisive click. The room was small but adequate for her needs—a bed, a table, and a window overlooking the street below. She set her belongings on the table and began to prepare for her next steps, her mind already working through the plans she had laid out.

The motel’s ambiance, with its dull colors and low hum of activity, was perfect for laying low. The chaos outside was a useful cover, and she would use this time to strategize her moves carefully.

The hunt was just beginning and Midgard's fate hung in the balance.

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Taglist is open!

[eluxcastar]

The little sisterfication of Signora

── ୨୧：la signora & reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: we're back with the little sibling headcanons let's GOOO

୨୧﹑genre :: fluff

୨୧﹑content :: gn reader, young signora, use of signora’s real name, it's more ambiguous how much older reader is, not proofread

୨୧﹑words :: 1.1k

this has been planned for so long, but I struggle SO bad writing Signora tbh Idk why it's not like I don't know how to write arrogant anguished women. I love arrogant anguished women 😭 while I'm on that thought I came to the realisation reader is probably dead with Rostam which was just what I wanted to think. BUT BUT I DID try to sneak some details in so it can still be cute cough witch's flower of blaze

it feels weird every time I use their real names but also calling them by titles when we know their names feels wrong because if it's from the perspective of their sibling who would know and use their name 😔 I think because I'm not used to it I'm like who the hell is MILBURN PENNYBAGS that's PULCINELLA (I had to look up the Monopoly man's name for that joke you BETTER laugh)

all little siblingification posts

Rosalyne was, as children are, young and interested in learning, eager but never quite aware. She loved to trail along by your side as you took her up the mountains to find a patch of flowers, at which point she would plop down in the grass and get to work making herself a flower crown with an extra one so you could match. Since your mother taught her the secret, she had happily taken to it and off to the races she was, linking flowers and matching colours in pursuit of the prettiest arrangement she could make to be her crown.

She long ago decided that Windwheel Asters are among the best, with an interesting shape and fiery red to contrast her blonde hair. Calla Lilies have a similar colour but a bad shape for flower crowns, and Cecilias are too pale to stand out the way she'd like them to. Windwheel Asters are bold and show off her hard work better than any delicate flower could.

Of course, that means she must also find the perfect flower for you, and that's hard work, but she'll never stop trying. Rosalyne read in a book about an extinct flower called the Padisarah, a beautiful purple flower that even the Dendro Archon couldn't perfectly replicate, and decided it would've been perfect for you if it still existed. You suspect that it's only because she can't have it that she wants it, the allure of something mystical that exists only in the imagination.

She settles instead on the legends of a Liyue flower that blooms at the sound of beautiful music—Glaze Lily or something to that tune. Each time Rosalyne makes a flower crown for you with the next best thing she can find, she claims that one day she'll travel to Liyue, and when she does, she'll bring you back one to see how pretty they are as if she has some greater understanding looking at the same picture in her book as you did. Maybe she does.

There is no dream too big, not for Rosalyne. She is desperate for your approval at every turn and wants you to think she's as cool as she thinks you are. She wants to hear you smile with her despite seeming so far away at times. Her phase of being petty and squabbling with you is over at last, and she seeks the comfort of the one person she looks up to more than anybody for a guiding star to turn to—you.

Your parents are both far away future ideals for an older Rosalyne to aspire to be, maybe with that boy she likes, but you are not so distant. You're like her, if only older and barely wiser. She sees all that she wants in you, and it makes her look up to your guidance above all else. Her parents are the annoying rule makers who preside over her life and ruin her fun; you're the fun troublemaker who sleazes the both of you past the city guards and takes her headfirst into the danger of the mountains just so she can play.

Rosalyne thinks of an ambitious future, and your parents tell her to be careful; you tell her to chase it. Become a scholar and do as she pleases. She's more inclined towards your indulgent way of thinking. You have yet to stifle the burning passion she holds but recognise it, and in your mind, it's about as cool as dragons could ever be. It is not the worrisome uncertainty of instability and hardship that your parents think it is.

Her heart is set in a far-off place—Sumeru, the Akademiya, where she feels everything will fall into place like a fairytale. Rosalyne has it all figured out, down to the number of boys she'll reject in pursuit of that boy she has had a crush on since she was twelve.

Even you're not privy to that, subject to Rosalyne quickly closing her diary or turning away from you, hiding the gifts she managed to get him and letters she wrote out but never could quite work up the nerve to send. It used to be only one of the many instances that would have her yelling at you not to snoop, though it has dwindled to being only one of the very few instances, save for accidentally discovering her in the process of procuring your birthday gifts.

It used to be that you would be searching for your missing things, a few of which had disappeared suspiciously close to your birthday and were found the moment you were proudly presented those very items as gifts from your little sister, sometimes with a daring tale of how she acquired it for you. Most of the time, you acted surprised and grateful, maybe even added a comment about how you were glad you didn't have to get a new one since Rosalyne had gone out and done it for you. You hid your annoyance at her habit of stealing your things behind thoughts of how cute your mother thought it was that Rosalyne didn't want to be left out of getting to give you something.

Rosalyne does, however, realise the possible benefit of asking for your help with this boy once she gets over the embarrassment-driven beet-red cheeks and yelling at you. You cannot find her boy and drag him by the ear to her, but you could help her write a letter to him or teach her to wrap that gift she was holding onto. You can do any number of things to help her chances— except talk to him. You can't do that, or you'll give it away with that big mouth of yours.

You're not quite sure how she came to that conclusion.

Her acceptance to the Akademiya came all too quickly. Years seemed to fly by, and her quirks evened out into a young woman your parents were more comfortable sending away to another nation. Their fears of her immaturity and fiery passion dragging her down settled as she did. By the time you were ready to send her away, the encroaching elegance you had seen forming in her younger self blossomed until she carried herself with more confidence and grace than ever. 

Like your parents, you are ready to watch her pursue that dream and come home to see the boy she likes still waiting for her. You make sure she knows you'll be there too, maybe even come visit every now and then and see Sumeru for yourself.

As she leaves, you reveal what you've been hiding for her—a single red flower. You're not as practised at the art of making flower crowns, but you found her this. This is all you can offer that she can carry with her until it wilts away.

CROSSPOSTED ON AO3

[reverielibrary]

Handle With Care 

Aster is a mechanic in a long-haul space crew. When the ship needs repairs in the middle of a trip, Hue, the intra-vessel managing computer system, keeps her company in her suit and provides some extra personal care.

Wordcount: 3609 | Contains: Sci-fi, Robot x human, Transfem character, Handjob (sort of), Semi-public, Caught, Embarrassment, Voice kink, Infodumping during sex, Spacesuit, Free-floating in space, Burn care

“How’re we looking on O2, Hue?” 

Aster heard the zip of an extra tether-line deploying from the external core of her suit, shooting out a short distance and latching onto the micro-welder that had floated loose from her toolbelt. 

“Oxygen reserves at 76%. Approximately 43 minutes of suit habitability remaining,” reported Hue, directing the returning tether claw where Aster could reach it. She was started to regret disconnected her tools from their individual suit tethers, but stubborn as she was, refused to admit it and kept doing her best not to lose any of them. 

“Plenty of time,” said Aster, trying for the third time to pass her wrench from her hand to her mouth and being reprimanded by the red impact warning light flashing inside her helmet. Hue overrode the warning as Aster put the wrench in her belt to grab the micro-welder. “Thanks, bud.”

“You’re welcome, Aster.”

That’s what Hue’s official name was—Buddy. Technically, his full name was StarStroller’s Model T3051 Voyage Buddy Intra-vessel Management Computer System Unit 297. The default settings when installed gave the beck command “Buddy” and the rest of the crew had no problem calling their ship’s program that, but Aster had insisted on giving him a proper name. The crew was not keen to go along at first, but still the name caught on, and eventually they all started referring to Hue as if he were just another crew member. 

He was certainly a big enough part of their everyday lives to be considered so, at least in Aster’s opinion. Half the time they flew on autopilot, and Hue’s programming kept them alive and functioning nearly every moment of their voyage—they would be royally fucked without him. Aster had been raised to be appreciative of everyone’s work, no matter who they were or whether or not they could be considered a person, and had always been very friendly with Hue. She was quick to reprimand the others when they were rude or demeaning to him, which quickly got her labelled a cyberfucker by the others. She didn’t care to argue with them on that point—she’d rather be a cyberfucker than an asshole any day. 

Truthfully, Aster liked Hue. He was much more pleasant company for an introverted mechanic than the rowdy haulers and traders she travelled with, though they had become like a strange little family after nearly two years out in the forever-dark of space, only making landfall every few months. There weren’t many women mechanics running with long-haul crews in their sect, and even fewer who were trans and queer (though as she had found on virtual hookup sites on the local cybernet, not none). 

“These rivets are crap,” grumbled Aster, struggling to get the micro-welder at the right angle to react with the metal around the loose riveting and scoffing. “Tsh. ‘Reentry-proof,’ my foot.”  

“We could purchase new plating when the ship reaches Delnaught X,” replied Hue. The top corner of Aster’s display field popped up with a window that displayed craft part listings. “Perhaps reinforce the seams with alloy strips to reduce the wear on the rivets?” 

“That’s not a bad idea,” said Aster. She pulled herself a bit higher up on the grounding tethers that were anchored and locked to the ship’s hull, keeping her from drifting off into the void. “But I doubt Cap would go for it—we don’t really have the liquid for that kind of thing right now. Not after we got swindled back on Roch’s Haven outta half our due.”

“Yes, that did put us behind our budget,” said Hue, collapsing the window with the alloy strip listings. “As did the subsequent bribery losses.” 

“Ugh,” groaned Aster. “You’re telling me. Gram really has to learn to control his temper, and Fio needs to stop giving him weapons when we’re docked. He’s lucky he got out of the brawl he started with only a handful of burns.”

As if woken by the mention of the word, an ill-executed twist at the waist set the half-healed burn between Aster’s shoulderblades stinging. She winced, further frustrated as she thought about how Gram’s promises to repay her for hauling his sorry battered ass out of the fray he’d started would most certainly go unhonored. 

“Are you alright, Aster?” asked Hue, a tinge of concern in his pleasant digital-fried tone. Aster knew he was programmed to sound that way when he detected a problem, but she was always touched by it nonetheless. 

“I’m fine,” she assured. “Just sore. The burn on my back’s been annoying me, especially since I can’t reach back there to slather up in Repair-Gel.” 

Aster heard the gentle beeping hum of the suit scanning her from head to toe. 

“This suit’s internal medkit is stocked with Repair-Gel,” noted Hue. “I have access to all the suit’s functions. Would you like to me apply Repair-Gel to your burn?” 

Aster paused, a little surprised. She had prolonged her suffering by refusing to ask any of the boys to help her with the Gel, as she hated asking them for most any favours and couldn’t imagine how mortifying and uncomfortable it would be to have any of them rub goo all over her back—even Tanu, the ship’s medic, who was the only one who had seen her shirtless before. He’d been nice, as he usually was on duty, but it was still incredibly awkward and something Aster did not want to relive unless entirely necessary. It had never before occurred to her to ask Hue for help with something of that nature.

“Um,” she said, hesitating. “Well…”

She was dressed in a t-shirt and the standard issue insulated leggings under the suit, having gone without a bra as she usually did when doing external maintenance, as it only added more restriction to the already unwieldy predicament that was the short-range suit. The lining of the suit was modified MPET padded for comfort, and felt like a snug hug from a smooth and slippery mylar duvet in most places, though Aster was keenly aware of all the discreet inlets in the lining that accommodated the suit’s many, many internal functions. 

“You’ve slowed down, Aster,” coaxed Hue. “38 minutes of suit habitability remaining.”

Another sizzle of pain made up Aster’s mind for her. 

“Okay, Hue, sure. Slather away,” she said, trying to keep the mood light to fight off her nerves. Hue might not technically be a person, but she still felt like she was about to be more exposed than she would have liked—but if it had to be with any of the crew, she was glad it was Hue. 

“Copy. Deploying internal roll-on applicator to the affected area.”

Aster jumped a little when she felt cold plastic pincers like mini versions of the tether claws latch onto and gather up her t-shirt, exposing her back. The lining of the suit shifted along with the machinery behind it and with a short hiss the back of the lining parted as the applicator was deployed. A red flashing cross popped up in the middle of Aster’s visor field along with internal medkit information, and when she went to give the command to dismiss it, a yelp came from her mouth instead. 

Though Aster couldn’t see down past her collar into the rest of her suit, she could discern the applicator right away when it was deployed. By the sound and feel of it, she figured the end was a smooth metal sphere about the size of an eyeball attached to a free-moving arm. Both the applicator and the Repair-Gel it was drenched in were freezing.  

“Does this hurt, Aster?” asked Hue, that soft concerned croon returning. This time, instead of being endearing, Aster found herself blushing at the tone. “Do you want me to stop?” 

“No,” answered Aster, perhaps a little more eagerly than she would have liked. “No, it’s fine, it’s just cold, is all.” 

“Heating applicator,” reported Hue. Almost immediately, the metal ball began to warm up, passing that heat to the gel, and as it began gliding over the tender skin between Aster’s shoulderblades it was pleasantly toasty. 

Aster let out a contented sigh. The ball slid incredibly smoothly and with just enough pressure to massage a little without pressing into the wound too much. In a few beats, the Repair-Gel began to anaesthetise the area and the pain faded away, leaving only the soothing roll of the warm slick metal. It had been a very long time since anyone had made Aster feel that physically good, let alone on her bare skin. She melted into the sensation, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment and loosening her grip on her tethers to feel the zero-G float her a little off the side of the ship. 

“Aster? Are you alright?” asked Hue, not doubt taking notice of her change in attitude, using that sweet croon again, a gentle caring voice humming in her ear. 

Aster’s eyes flew abruptly open as she became aware of a very different sensation tingling down below her hips. 

“Your heart rate is slightly elevated,” said Hue. “Do you require additional assistance?” 

“I’m fine, Hue, I’m good,” babbled Aster, reeling herself back in on the tether and clinging to the hull in embarrassment as if she could hide herself behind the ship. “The, uh, the Gel helped. I’m all good now.” 

“Your body temperature and vital monitoring indicate you are anxious,” reported Hue. 

“That’s one way to put it,” mumbled Aster. “Really, I’m okay. Let’s just finish up and get back inside.” 

Aster felt the applicator retract and her shirt and the suit-lining settle back into place.

“I could read you a story or sing you a song,” offered Hue, running through the saved soothing methods he’d filed in Aster’s profile. Especially early on in her time with her crew, those were some of the few things that could calm her down and help with her insomnia. She had fallen asleep countless times to the sound of Hue’s voice. In that moment, however, Aster was almost certain those things would make her predicament worse. 

“No, thank you,” she said, trying to keep her manner as casual as possible and her mind out of the gutter, failing both. Despite her efforts, she had become fully hard, and her dick was now squished uncomfortably by the straps of the suits’ harness. She took the wrench from her belt to speedily tighten the remaining few rivets before reinforcing them with the micro-welder, praying that a rushed patch job would last them at least until their next planetfall. 

To Aster’s dismay, a notice popped up across her visor field. Physical Integrity Report: Unexpected addition tension in LOWER TORSO, B9C6. Inspect for malfunction to maintain suit physical integrity. 

“Oh, come on,” she groaned. “These things were designed by cis men and they’re not built to handle a—?” Aster flustered before she finished her thought, feeling the weight of Hue’s bodiless presence all around her. “Dismiss notice,” she added sheepishly.

The hum of the body scan kicked up and Aster cringed. 

“There is no need to worry, Aster. Your suit’s physical integrity is intact and it remains fully functional. The sensors have simply registered and flagged your erection.” 

“Great,” said Aster, laughing a little as her face burned with heat. “Thanks for just laying it all out like that, bud.”

The sarcasm was lost on Hue. “You’re welcome, Aster.”

A few beats passed quietly as Aster finished tightening and went to switch the wrench for the welder. She fumbled both, sending the welder spinning out of reach.

“Oh, for the love of—!” she started, but stopped when a quickly deployed tether-claw with perfect aim retrieved the welder and brought it back to her. Flustered, Aster took it wordlessly and back to work, struggling with the trigger in her bulky gloved hands. 

“Your accuracy has significantly decreased,” chimed Hue, as calm and pleasant as ever. 

“It’s just a patch,” mumbled Aster. “It’ll be fine.” 

“Your discomfort is distracting you,” said Hue, matter-of-factly. “Would you like me to assist you?” 

Aster finally got the welder working and immediately stopped it, pausing with a shiver of nerves and excitement. 

“What… what do you mean?” she asked tentatively. 

“I could relieve your discomfort,” replied Hue, “like I did previously. I have access to all of your suit’s functions. I could resolve your erection for you so you could finish your work unhindered.” 

“You—I—how would—?” stammered Aster. “I don’t think we really have the time for anything… like that.” 

“35 minutes of suit habitability remaining,” said Hue. “Besides, it would not take long.”

Aster scoffed a laugh. “Oh, wow, really going for my pride, there, pal.”

“It was not a comment on your sexual performance, Aster. I am equipped to assist human charges with all manner of required functions to an optimal degree.”

Aster frowned, hardly believing she was having that conversation at all and wildly embarrassed, but unbearably curious and undeniably turned on. She shifted her legs a little to try to ease the restriction on her cock, but the movement only offered a tantalising flash of stimulation and then a worse squash in the compressing fabric of her leggings. 

“Do you mean you… you’re programmed to help with… sex stuff?” 

“I am programmed to offer relief to a wide range of physical ailments, including reproductive and genital pain or discomfort, yes.” 

Aster wrinkled her nose and banished the thought that Hue could have assisted any of the boys with their very obvious and annoying horny rage in that way. She had experienced her fill of that when she’d accidentally walked in on Bram and Fio in their bunks—or, more accurately, bunk. 

Still, with a dismissal on the tip of her tongue, Aster felt the fluster of need rising from her hips to her head. 

“Hypothetically,” she started, “how would you even do that? Right now, I mean?”

“This suit is equipped with two dozen free-motion snake arms that can access any part of the wearer’s body,” explained Hue. “With minimal modification, the inflatable cushion bandage could be used to stroke an erect penis.”

“How romantic,” joked Aster, busy with the terribly exciting knowledge that while she was in the suit, Hue had access to her entire body. The thrill of being completely in his hands as she floated off the side of her ship with the forever of open space at her back was intoxicating. The welder sat completely forgotten in her hand.

“I can speak to you in a romantic way, if that would be helpful,” said Hue. 

If Aster could have, she would would have buried her face in her hands. 

“Would you like me to proceed, Aster?” 

Like the pitch of a fall, Aster gave in to the desire gripping her body. “I would, but this suit isn’t exactly roomy, I don’t know how you would even—”

Her words were lost in a hitch of breath as she heard the zip of an internal arm deploying down by her hip and felt it slither against her clothes, navigating with incredible precision. In place of the ball applicator on the previous arm, this one had a grasp attachment of sorts, more complex than a tether-claw but simpler than a human hand, and it was holding something flat and plasticy.

“Hold still, please, Aster,” said Hue, just barely more than a request—a gentle command. 

Aster did her best not to squirm as a second arm deployed at her other hip, another grasp joining the first at her pelvis and working together in the snug space between her flesh and the suit lining to dip her leggings and underwear down out of the way. She gasped a little as one of them gripped the base of her cock, holding it firmly but surprisingly tenderly, and noticed in her fuzz of arousal that the grasps were warmed to the same temperature as the Repair-Gel applicator. 

Aster didn’t realize she was panting until her breath began to fog up the visor of her helmet, making the display frosty. She forced herself to slow her breathing, very aware that she had limited air out there. Thinking about how Hue had full control of that, too, only got her more worked up. 

“You can relax, Aster,” said Hue. “I will take care of you.” 

Before she could process what was happening, her excitement sharpened by the disorientation of not being able to see what was happening, she felt the flat strip of plastic being gently wrapped around her hard cock. 

“Inflating cushion bandage and administering lubricant,” announced Hue. 

With a fwoosh and a shock of warm wetness, Aster felt a warm tight pressure circle her dick, squeezing deliciously at her base. She let out a full moan, unable to keep herself quiet as the sensation shot through her. She only just barely got the micro-welder secured back in her belt before the arms began to move. 

“Initiating friction.” 

The slide of the smooth plastic inflatable around her cock was heavenly, slick with plenty of warm lube, the glide even more decadent than the roll of the applicator on her back. Aster huffed out groans of pure pleasure, giving slack on the grounding tethers again to let herself float off the hull, losing herself in the sensation. 

“Ooohhh, Hue…” sighed Aster, bucking a little into the cushion. She found herself easily undone and helpless desperate for touch after endless months of nothing but her own hands and the words and pictures of strangers countless stars away. 

“Yes, Aster?” cooed Hue. Aster swore she heard a new tone from him then, something sweeter than his usual pacific pleasantness, something richer. 

“Please don’t stop,” she murmured, calling up the needy lines she huffed into her pillow on her lonely nights, all alone in her single bunk. 

“I won’t.” 

But never truly alone, she realised in that moment. Hue could see and hear everything on the ship. He had always seen, always heard, always listened, always watched. Again she felt the loom of his presence there with her like a tangible thing, felt his synthetic gaze on her, felt the arms and the grasps like they were his limbs and hands on her, like the suit was him, covering every inch of her. As she inched farther away from the hull, she put herself entirely at his mercy, letting her moans be freer and huskier as Hue quickened his strokes. In that moment, she was his. 

“Keep talking,” begged Aster, breathless. 

“What would you like me to talk about?”

“Anything.” Aster could feel the heat pooling in her guts as the pleasure of every slick, clenching stroke rose and rose. “Anything you want. Just let me hear you, please.” 

“We are passing within view of the Kilo-0-Romeo-3934 supernova,” reported Hue. His voice was just a little quieter and lighter, almost as if her had breath of his own, the rocky digital fry in Aster’s ear raising goosebumps all down her spine. “Because of the particulate of the Orocathmel belt interrupting the wavelengths of its light, it will appear pink and red to the human eye with clouds of debris unfurling from its epicentre in a spiral, like the petals of a rose.” 

“Fuck,” cursed Aster, her voice breaking. Her legs began to quiver, her building orgasm edging on too much to bear, but she couldn’t do anything but float there as Hue jerked her off, steadily increasing his pace. “Keep going, please keep going, just keep talking, please—”

“The particulate of the Orocathmel is comprised of approximately 86% mineral matter and 14% organic matter from the collision of Comet-Sweetheart-9989 with the former planet Tatragre—”

“Say that again,” whined Aster.

“Say what again?” 

“Sweetheart.” 

“Sweetheart.” Hue repeated the word slower the second time, stretching out the syllables. 

Aster was painfully close. Her whole body tensed as she felt her cock throb with need, desperate to come. “Again.”

“Sweetheart.”

With a gasp of a moan, Aster came. Her slick cock throbbed in the cushion’s slippery grip as her cum shot all over the lining of the suit and onto the front of her shirt. She convulsed in zero-G, feeling nothing but the crashing waves of rapture and the heat of her dripping spend. 

She could have been imagining it, but she thought she heard Hue give a low, satisfied hum as she flinched and panted, slowly coming back to herself as her orgasm ebbed. The grounding tethers snapped taught as she drifted to limit and the tension held her in place as she caught her breath. 

“Feeling better?” asked Hue. 

The cushion ring hissed as it deflated, the grasps making quick work of folding it flat and retreating, leaving Aster alone with her mess of cum and her sensitive cock still exposed against the sleek lining of the suit. 

“Oh, boy,” she panted, still a little fuzzy as her body calmed down. “I came… in the suit. I can’t believe I just came in the suit. Cap’s going to kill me.”

“No need to worry, Aster. I can get the suit clean and resterilised when we return to the ship,” assured Hue.

“You better,” came Cap’s voice over the intercom, sounding ruffled and more than a little annoyed. Aster’s stomach dropped. “You two lovebirds almost finished out there?” 

“Yes, Captain. Aster’s repairs are nearly complete,” replied Hue.

“Good. Finish up and quit wasting the O2 reserves. And Aster?” 

It was a marvel to Aster that her voice still worked and that her head didn’t go up in flames from how hotly she flushed. “Yes, Cap?” 

“Next time you want to have a little cyberfucker date, do it somewhere you can disable your system comm.”

[swift-creates]

category: Gen

fandom: Batfamily x One Piece

characters and relationships: Damian Wayne al Ghul x Roronoa Zakiko (OC) - romantic

warnings: mind control, restraints, electrocution, swearing, accidentally hurting a loved one, the Joker

Summary:

@ailesswhumptober Day 18: Mind control, possession, “Everybody will end up despising you.”

Day 20 Alt 6: shock collar

Day 30 Alt 8: kidnapping

Zakiko and Damian are captured by the Joker, and he seems to be intent on bending them to his wishes.

notes: a bit of my Damiko collab fic with the lovely @ablatheringblatherskite, to whom Zakiko belongs. Zaki’s POV - Aster | Damian’s POV - Me

SORRY IF DAMIAN IS OOC I HAVEN’T WRITTEN HIM MUCH BEFORE

Damian groaned and blinked open his eyes. His head was pounding, though from a knockout blow or knockout gas he couldn’t quite remember. The very fact he couldn’t was worrisome. 

There was another groan to his side. Zakiko clenched her jaw in pain. Her head felt like it was ramming against the inside of her skull and she didn’t like it. What the hell…?

“Well, good morning, little ones. Have I got an exciting day planned for you,” a dreadfully familiar voice cackled, and Damian twisted in his restraints to see the Joker’s malicious grin directed towards him and Zakiko. 

Zakiko opened her eyes to see the clown leering at them, and she blinked several more times in slight confusion and annoyance. “A clown? Really?”

“Don’t underestimate him,” Damian told her under his breath, glaring at the villain. “He’s wreaked havoc on my family before.”

“Hmmph, is that so?” Zakiko narrowed her eyes at the clown, her wrists jerking against the restraints. She looked down at herself to see that she and Damian were trapped in strange chairs, their wrists restrained by metal clamps on the armrests. She jerked against them again, swearing as the metal dug into her skin. 

Damian narrowed his eyes at the Joker. “Just tell us what you intend and get it over with, clown.”

“Yeah,” Zakiko spat. She writhed a bit more against the clamps, straining against them and ignoring the way it dug into her wrists. “Or how about you let go of us instead?” 

She wasn’t going to waste time on this clown and immediately tried to use her Marionette-ism on him, willing his body to transform like countless people have before at the hands of her abilities. But nothing happened. Her eyes widened in confusion and horror and she tried again, but when nothing happened, she spun her head around to look at Damian in panic. “Damian—my powers. They aren’t working.”

“What?!” he hissed. “What do you mean, they aren’t working?? You’re not the kind to get some kind of maintenance error.”

“I know!” she hissed back, trying to activate her abilities again. But none of them were working. “And these aren’t made of Sea Stone…” She turned to glare at the Joker with wide, angry eyes. “What did you do!?”

He laughed at her, walking in a figure eight around his two captives. “No powers in Gotham! It wouldn’t be fair to those of us without, now, would it?” He waggled a finger at her reprimandingly.

She growled and tried to bite his finger, but he pulled it away and booped her on the nose before dancing out of reach.

“I come bearing gifts!” He reached into a box and took out two black collars, fastening one around Damian’s neck despite his struggles, then going over to Zakiko. “Now, now, no more of that, kiddo. Uncle Joker just wants to give you nice stuff!” 

“No, don’t you dare touch me! Leave him alone! You little—” The collar clicked around her neck, and he patted her on the head. 

“There we go. You two look so pretty in your matching trinkets. It must be twu wuv.” He cackled again, unlocking their restraints. 

The first thing Damian did was lunge for the neck. 

His fingers were almost brushing Joker’s skin when pain erupted across his body and he dropped to the ground, screaming. 

“Hey!” Zakiko tried to lunge at him as well, aiming a kick to the chest, only for her to collapse to the ground screaming and spasming as well.

Damian clawed his way towards her as the lightning faded, breathing hard. “Stay… away… from my girlfriend.”

The Joker gasped comically. “How chivalrous. But chivalry is dead. And if you don’t sit back down like good little blades, you know what else will be.” He danced around, waving the collars’ remote at them. 

Zakiko’s screams stopped as her spasming ceased. Her muscles, her skin, her bones—everything hurt. She looked towards Damian, scanning his body worriedly. “Are—are you okay?” 

“I’m… fine. He won’t be.” Damian glared up at the Joker, pushing himself to stand and return to his chair. 

Staggering to her feet, Zakiko glared at the Joker murderously. “What do you want with us, shithead?”

“Simply put, I want you two to break.” His eyes glinted sinisterly. “I’ve had my fun with two other Robins. This one will be a fun challenge.”

Damian scoffed. “Unlikely. My brothers’ training, while adequate, is nowhere close to mine.”

“And I’m not so easily broken either.” She smirked at him as she sat back down too, crossing her arms. “I’m a Roronoa. It’s gonna take a bit more than a few little zaps to make me crack.” Damian matched her smirk. Joker was going to get much more than he bargained for with Zakiko. 

“So maybe it'll be in your best interest to free us both before we both kill you horribly,” she finished with a grin.

“And slowly,” Damian added. “Very, very slowly.” The clown had brought enough dishonour to his family, and punishment was long overdue. 

The Joker smiled indulgently. “How sweet. Look at you two. United in murder. Awwww.”

Zakiko simply lifted her hand and made a very rude gesture. Damian had to resist the urge to let his own smile show on his face.

The Joker paced towards Zakiko, twirling the remote in his palm. “Don’t you wanna know what those pretty collars are for? Aside from decoration and those little zaps.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I’m guessing not fashion?”

“Clever girl. You see, I’m going to make you two my cute little puppets.” He grinned. “You simply won’t be able to escape each other, and both of you have such wonderful maiming ability!”

“Puppets?” Zakiko glanced at Damian, as if asking for help translating what he means. He shrugged back, but couldn’t help a cold feeling of dread at the words. Whatever Joker meant, it couldn’t be just dangling them from strings and waving them around.

She glanced at Joker again, raising an eyebrow. “Sorry, bud. The whole puppet schtick is already my thing, so…” She shrugged exaggeratedly with a mockingly apologetic expression.

His sinister smile deepened. “After today, it will be in more ways than one.” 

“Good luck with that.” Damian gave him a withering look. Puppeteering, turned against Zakiko? Unlikely.

She just crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at him. “What he said.”

“Why don’t we test that out?” Joker held up the remote. “Birdie, slap your girlfriend.”

Damian scowled, ready with a scathing retort, then everything went white. The next thing he knew, he was standing in front of Zakiko, a red mark visible on her cheek. 

What the fuck did I just do? He recoiled, a sick feeling roiling in his stomach. 

She was clutching her cheek, head turned to the side and eyes wide with confusion. “What the hell??” she cried, looking at him in alarm. 

“I- That wasn’t me. That wasn’t me!” But his hand was only just coming to rest, and he stumbled away from her. No. He isn’t like that anymore. He wouldn’t hurt her. He wouldn’t. He didn’t. He did. 

The guilt and panic in his eyes was clear, and Zakiko felt her anger grow. She rounded on the Joker, eyes dark. “What did you do to him!?” Damian would never hurt her. He’d never lay a hand on her like that. Right?? No, of course he wouldn’t, the clown was trying to get into their heads. 

The Joker grinned wickedly. “I’m just showing him what he can do, sweetie. Didn’t birdie find that fun at all?” Damian swallowed and shook his head frantically. Zakiko clenched her fists.

“Leave him alone.”

“Hmmm.” He made a show of thinking about it. “No. Birdie, choke her.” 

Then Damian was on his feet, pinning her to the wall, one hand wrapped around her throat. 

Zakiko’s eyes widened in horror and panic, and she gasped for air that wasn’t there. She scrabbled at his hand desperately. “AGH—!”

Her feet kicked uselessly against him. He was stronger than her. She couldn’t deny that. They’d sparred enough, and more often than not she’d end up with her face flat against the mat. And without her powers, he had the clear upper hand. She clawed at his hands desperately, choking and gasping, and her eyes beginning to water. “DAMI—!” But he wouldn’t relent, his grip like iron around her neck. 

“Okay, that’s enough for now.” At the command, he let go of her. 

Damian blinked and Zakiko was bent over, gasping for breath. “Zi?” His voice had an uncharacteristic waver to it, and he backed away, his hands starting to shake too.

Her vision was slightly blurry as she clutched her neck, coughing and wheezing. She looked up at him wordlessly, trying to catch her breath as she blinked away the tears that had formed. She had never seen him so… afraid before, and it scared her.

Nononono- His back hit the opposite wall, and he stared at her. Joker can make me do anything. He can- He can make me kill her. The realisation felt like bile rising in the back of his throat. 

Zakiko quickly hurried after him, reaching for his hands. “No, Dami. It's not you. He's—he’s controlling you somehow! Don't let him get in your head!”

He pulled away quickly — too quickly. “Stop. Just- stay away. I don’t want to hurt you again.”

She stopped, eyes wide. No, no. She glared murderously at the Joker. “I’m gonna kill you.”

Then she grabbed Damian's hands forcefully, looking at him almost angrily. “Don't you dare pull away.” 

“Zi-” He stiffened. But she wouldn’t let go, and he found himself pulling her closer. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. 

She tightened her grip, almost glaring at him. “Damn it, Dami. Apology not accepted, you idiot.” 

“But-” He looked up at her with watery eyes.

“No,” she growled. “You're mine, okay? Whether you like it or not, you little shit.” She smirks a bit, though her voice wavers just slightly. “If you're gonna be anyone's puppet, you're gonna be mine. Not his.”

Hers. He liked that idea. Damian took a shaky breath. “It is… acceptable. But- how do you explain what I just did?”

“What else?” she turned to glare at the Joker as she said this, hands tightening around Damian’s protectively. 

“Yes, yes. I must take full credit for that wonderful display. Why not do it again?” Joker grinned. 

“Wait, no-” But it was too late. Everything went black again. 

[scuddle-bubble101]

Can you tell us about Teddy?

(Absolutely!! We had to take a moment to tend to Wicker but, we can shimmie on back into these :]! You all wanted the entire Asterisks family and its adorably amusing hgnjvfndfj)

Teddybear~!

Human name: Timothy Ann Asterisks youngest of her only twin brother, Stick(Jeremiah Comic Asterisks). Fathered by her biological parent Whacky(Aster Asterisks).

Teddy's a bubbly sweet-nature, never always gets it right kind of gal with a similarly heart of gold complex to her father. She can't always help herself to wanting to help others and, better her time on the world for it. She became a guard this way! Unlike her brother, whom had a whole degree in line for him and settled for botany instead.

Like Stick, she had the same tumultuous like childhood and shared the same if not more struggles to it than he did. She loves her brother, deeply she does but his actions nearly caused them to fall apart... Luckily, it didn't happen and they stayed living together for a time before Matrix came into their lives. During this time, she met someone she considered a training partner. He was pretty blunt and unfriendly but did good as a sparring partner. Turns out really, he was just a stressed guy, really bad at socializing, and did a whole ton of work for his dad on the daily.

Something about sparring helped him out and it didn't take long for him and Teddy to grow to being friends. And through shared interests, complaining about family, picking each other back up when the other was down. That friendship became romantic. Unlike her brother's constant shifting love-life and "activities" (Before Matrix), Teddy was a stationary sort. She doesn't care for constant hookups and when Pj started to come onto her, she was firm on those boundaries. Course, well- Obviously he's got her now, but she put up a good fight before he did! X'D

Additional notes...

.Teddy takes her job as a security/post guard seriously. She welds twin axes bigger than her whole body and if you laugh at her, she's liable to whack you with one of the handles.

.Not really any health problems to account for. She really did win the twin lottery and left Jere with the rest. (Even though he's the oldest by ten minutes. She was technically born a day "after him" so her birthday is after his and yes, he holds that above her to this day.)

.One of the first people to really do her best to welcome Matrix into their home. Sure he was snappy, and grumpy for the first bit, but they are pretty solid friends now! When Stick couldn't, Teddy would lend a hand.

.Pretty much the backbone of the household or "was". (Ever since they got partners, the twins separated and Teddy gave up the house to Matrix and Stick. Though! She's just a few houses down nearby!) Teddy maintained the workload and the fiances, Stick mostly did the cooking and cleaning and the occasional, commission work. (He wasn't always the best at it, but he made sure at least something was cleaned or food was on the table. Ted liked doing the desserts, but she usually didn't have time for it.)

.She's never stopped believing her brother could be a better person than how he started. She's still very proud to see he's never once proved her wrong.

.Her blaster is a Polar-bear mix Grizzly. Fluffy and plump, good for hugging~

[goddessxoflight]

Anemone ( Darker ): i’ve been forsaken; my hope is fading Anthurium: craving your hospitality; wishing you happiness and abundance  Aster: i am patient; you are patient Red Carnation: i greatly admire you Chrysanthemum: you are blessed with my loyalty; i wish for your life to be long Red Chrysanthemum: my love for you is inextinguishable White Chrysanthemum: i wish for us to be truthful with each other  Yellow Chrysanthemum: you reject my love Delphinium: i am irrevocably and perpetually attached to you Freesia: you constantly find your way to my mind

Gardenia: i no longer wish to hide my love for you Gerbera: i wish for your cheerfulness to be eternal  Heather Lavender: never again will loneliness plague you Heather: i wish to bestow unto you my protection Blue Hyacinth: i will always wish for your presence beside me Purple Hyacinth: i am haunted by sorrow Pink Hyacinth: allow me to be playful with you Hydrangea: i want you to understand me Yellow Iris: my love for you is as fervent as it is unyielding Jonquil: all i ask is for the reciprocation of my love White Violet: i ask you to take a chance on me Primrose: without you, i cannot live Protea: you have changed  Queen Anne’s Lace: i deeply hope that you can find happiness with me  Ranunculus: your luminous radiance is exceptionally attractive Red Rose: i am eternally devoted to you; my love for you is limitless White Rose: i would very much like for you to begin anew with me Stock: it would gratify me immensely if you would accept my affection Stephanotis: i would like for you to travel with me Sunflower: never will i cease to love you; my love for you is rooted in dedication Tulip: i am prepared to confess my love for you White Violet: i ask you to take a chance on me White Zinnia: within you lies genuine goodness

The enchanting sight before them held the goddesses Chloris and Antheia in its thrall. They were entranced as each delicate flower blossomed from Pit's heart, challenging the belief that Pit was merely a tool of the Gods. Every petal, color, and form seemed to carry profound emotions and sentiments, surpassing the duties of a mere servant. It was as if within the heart of the unconscious angel, a clandestine garden blossomed, unrivaled even by the splendor of Gaea herself. This led one to ponder if Palutena, perhaps overcome by apprehension and trepidation, had solicited their aid to fathom the enigmatic depths of her Captain's heart.

The untamed, otherworldly bloom emerged in certain secluded spots, resembling delicate petals unfolding from his lips. Each represented a notion or emotion he yearned to convey but was constrained by an unseen barrier. These blossoms, each resonating with the Captain's ghostly timbre, were a testament to the enigma of his concealed innermost thoughts and emotions and his struggle to reveal them.

➷Words are drowned in tears you shed beneath your laughter. Paint the visions inside with emotions of the palette in my mind. Please distinguish me; the colors overflow. I pray that you will save me now. I fall away. Hear now, my words of blue inside the tears that you cry; I'll catch them as they fall. Feel now, my warmth of red, I whisper there as you sleep, a gentle song of hope.➷

➷ As though the sky and sea arе as one, memories crossed insidе my mind. Unraveling the threads of our past, we softly watched our future bloom. See now, the days of black are slowly fading again. The memories pass you by. Feel now, my lips of white. I kiss you here in our dream, a gentle prayer of love.➷

A single tear trickles down from the Captain's closed eyes, reflecting the deep turmoil. The two Goddesses, fully cognizant of their indispensable role in preserving the Captain's well-being, exchange a meaningful glance before returning to face Palutena. One of them speaks, her voice carrying a weight of solemn responsibility: "We are about to enact the sealing of the spell. Prolonged exposure to its effects will lead to madness, and he will be lost to us forever. Goddess of Light, we are undertaking this favor solely because your radiance nurtures our flowers, but we implore you – this will be the first and last time. When you return, please administer this concoction to him as he awakens; it will help stabilize the garden of his heart, and he will again exude his usual cheerfulness."

This was not at all what she expected.

Every twist and turn of each flower that grew from Pit's heart told a story she didn't know if she wanted to hear. Her concerns were thwarted by truth as each flower begged for something from the Goddess, their stems wrapping around her like a vice that threatened everything she told herself not to believe.

Its power was enough to make her take a step back, worrying that its capabilities would be too overwhelming and cause her to crack the barrier that she has kept around herself for centuries, yet the vines are desperate to restrain her and keep her from leaving. Years of her neglect had left a permanent wound on heart which was emphasized by the yellow chrysanthemum, the blue hyacinth, and the primrose that wrapped around her wrist and up her arm. They whisper their wants and needs, and Palutena feels herself beginning to panic. She tries to tug herself away from its grip.

The petals are warm on her skin as their caress her flesh, begging for her, beckoning her closer, wanting her acceptance. Like gentle kisses, yet she cowers away from their touch, for she was far too scared to accept the evidence laid out before her. His love could burn her flesh like poison ivy instead of heal her with each flower's magical properties of devotion and love. That's what she believes.

But there is something more inside of Pit that she didn't know if she could find the strength to look further. She can sense it as the last flower blooms from his chest, right where his heart would be.

A white zinnia. She gasps. This super bloom of colors was trying to tell her there was something more than just the sleeping captain and the tear running down his cheek, and the panic begins to set in further.

Her mouth feels dry, heart quickens.

She knows what she must consider, but she doesn't know if she has the strength to do it.

Her thoughts and anxiety are pulled away by the two Goddesses' warning. Sensing that something must be wrong, they drive off the vines and petals away from the Goddess of Light though the flowers in Pit's soul continue to yearn and chase her light the same way each blossom does in the mortal realm.

A vial is handed to her soon after, which she gratefully takes, accepting both the vial and distraction, and tucks it into the purse pocket inside her dress.

There is nothing more she needs to know now. She does not to wish to pry further. Everything in Pit's heart was laid on display for her, and there isn't an ounce of treachery. His loyalty is waning, but that could easily be fixed.

She plucks the anemone from his body, much to the Nature Goddesses' horror, and crushes its petals in her hand, destroying its beauty and doubts. Light disintegrates it into ashes as she releases her palm and lets it fall to the floor.

"Thank you, my friends." She regards them both with a smile, but her emphasis makes it clear that their friendship is no more than a threat. Their cooperation is of the utmost importance. Turn on her, and nature will not survive without her light. Whether by frost or incineration. "I appreciate all your help and all you have done for me thus far. I will ask of nothing more from you. You may close his heart now and we will take our leave."

She watches as the Goddesses waste no time doing what they are told, their magic retracting every beautiful flower back into Pit's soul. Observing closely, she is reminded of just how important the language of flowers are.

Once Pit's heart is returned to its natural state, she thanks the two Goddesses again, raises a hand, hovers it over his sleeping body, and produces a beam of light that returns to them to the safe haven that is Skyworld.

There, she gives Pit the vial that will return him back to normal. Good as new as though nothing had ever happened.

[book-girl4evaaa]

a mask on if I was a Percy Jackson character?? 😁

Here ya go!

Gracie Aster ✨

Daughter of Aphrodite, aged 14 (nearly 15), has been at camp for 4 years. She is brave, optimistic, kind and caring. She's a role model to all the younger campers and super welcoming to newbies. Gracie's powers are the ability to calm people down, and she can bake food which affects peoples emotions for up to a month! She is good at running, hand-to-hand combat, cooking/baking, and arts and crafts. She struggles with being open with people and her fears and feels responsible for everyone - and sometimes neglects to look after herself. If you ever need a hand around camp, or want to be cheered up, she's your gal!

I hope you like it! Order again soon! :)

[betweenthetimeandsound]

--prompt from @flashfictionfridayofficial

"I don't really think about which birds are which anymore," Aster muttered, tracing her hand against the open sky. "All I see are pigeons and crows where it may be."

The minutes passed with a strange abnormality; the scent of burning metal tainted the air with its reminder of what happened. A stray soldier saw her bright pink clothing and shot at her motorcycle, and the memories warped together like a broken record. And it continued playing.

Limping, Aster twisted her legs and moved herself closer to the bike, covering the damage with her hand. She took a quick look at the empty road, with it stark loneliness despite the paved nature of it all, hoping somebody would call out for her.

Instead, silence persisted, and her wound continued to fester. Aster slid the hem of her dress to hold it down, before hearing a sudden thud on the ground. As she punctured her thigh with her lacquered fingernails, a wild cry emerged from the highlands, and she stumbled.

Hoarse, but not smothered, a bird's cry made itself clear on the road. Aster took a quick glimpse at the sky, before trying to stand up to see where the creature might have fallen. Step by step, she adjusted her sock inside her sneaker, hoping a stray pin wouldn't make its way there. Step by step, her hands started to tremble.

A buzzing noise took over her head, as if she got struck down again and woke up to a cold, sterile hospital. Anonymous eyes would gape on her, like a bird in a new environment struggling to fly. Aster held down her ear, keeping it down, only to hear a honking sound approaching her.

[annymation]

Is Evangeline jealous that Chiara is a star girl and can do magic, and not a simple human girl without magical abilities? I think she would be sad. And if she's really jealous, how will Asha and Aster try to calm her down and comfort her?

I imagine it would make for an interesting story (Call it a Kingdom of Wishes direct to DVD sequel idea) for Lin to go through the arc of first being jealous of her sister and longing for more, longing for more adventure and magic in her life.

Ultimately, she could learn to just appreciate what she DOES have and that her sister has her own struggles too, after all being the brightest star in the sky, getting thousands of wishes every night that she takes upon herself to grant, plus knowing she'll outlive her sister and her parents by billions of years... Yeah, it ain't easy being Chiara.

But anyway, I'm rambling.

On to your second question. They'd most likely sit down with her and have a conversation about how even if she ain't magical she's still special, and they love her just as much as Chiara and bla bla bla supportive parents stuff, she'd probably not even listen, teenagers, am I right?

[moonchildstyles]

Stop aster sitting in the living room while she’s doing her little yoga of the day and she’s facing him looking at his little smirk!!!! Giving him a look!! But his smirk only goes deeper to the side “like the matching set” :D she looks down noticing her sports bra is in full view for h </3 “thank you. I like it too :D now let me workout” and ofc he teases her that this is her “workout” and it’s just so ugh with his teasing and her flushed cheeks and ofc he teases her about that too “I’m working out ofc my face is red” and a loud laugh leaves his lips :(((( watching her struggle with the current pose cause pieces of her hair are in the way due to her ponytail slowly coming undone and she’s huffing them away :(((( he walks up to her and she’s all confused hand tapping her back “straighten out for me” and she of course obliges :( he slides her hair tie out of her pony and before she can ask his hands are collecting the hairs that are now framing her face bringing everything together to tie it and angel is so heart eyes :(((((( “test it out” flicking her pony :( and she’s moving her head making sure it’s comfortable finally turning around kissing his nose saying thank you :(((((( she turns back around and before she busies herself with her next move h wraps a hand around her waist placing a kiss to her cheek :(((( and ofc he squeezes at her sides to hear her giggle :(((((( <333333🧸

STOP:(((((((((((( him complimenting her on her little set and her bra and hes so annoying I know he would pluck at the straps too just to tease her some before shes like batting his hands away all flustered and than you:(((( now let me work out! and he jsut thinks shes such a cutie watching her get all bendy and doing so good with her breathing and ofc he teases her that yoga is her "workout" but he can see that some of the poses strain her and like her body tenses and everything so he loves knowing that shes working hard and doing so good and he knows this calms her down a lot so hes only teasing when he pokes at her about it:( obsessed w him having her straighten up for him so he can fix her hair, taking out the tie and bushing her hair back into his fist until hes got it tied back all sweet :( and having her test it for him before he also tugs on it just a little after she shakes her hair around:(((( and he def helps her back into her pose w his hand on her back before hes giving her shoulder a kiss:( im literally sick!!!!!!

[g1deonthefirst]

12, 16, 19 for violence! <3

12. the unpopular character that you actually like and why more people should like them

gestures at my URL. stan gideon the first!!! pyrrha compares him to wake (the woman who impregnated herself for a shot at killing john. also underrated btw) in his willingness to burn for what he believes in, which indicates a really fiery personality hidden under 10,000 years of dissociation and i wish people were more interested in exploring that. i also think he's so clearly set up as a parallel to harrow - a genius of a failed lyctor who's spent most his life (ten THOUSAND years) struggling with a memory that lies to him, so it's deeply unfortunate that he mostly gets reduced to "muscular boring guy." ALSO as aster's pointed out by failing to fully ascend to lyctorhood he is literally The queer-coded lyctor straddling the line between (and often performing a dual role of) necromancer and cavalier. i could go on about this forever but i need everybody to start caring 150% more abt g1deon right tf now.

16. you can't understand why so many people like this thing (characterization, trope, headcanon, etc)

i don't understand the flattening out of griddlehark as a ship in general but i specifically don't understand the desire to paint gideon as a dumb jock golden retriever girlfriend. she's a complex character who is very frequently snarky and bad-tempered (as she should be!) and is smarter than the fandom gives her credit for, and i feel like people really don't like to engage with all those complexities and i don't get it.

19. you're mad/ashamed/horrified you actually kind of like…

colum asht??!?!? literally never paid any attention to him before but all of a sudden during this gtn reread his character clicked for me like i'm just suddenly very interested in everything he's got going on with his dynamic with his weird little uncle and his bred-for role on the eighth house. idk maybe im a colum stan now. weird!

[gently-decaying-flowers]

do you wanna hear about my plans for my story 🥺 TOO LATE BAM BAM POW💥💥💥

TFOTR plot, characters, etc……

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

hi welcome to hell :3

aka the planning for The Fall of the Raven (tfotr)

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Revon Lyre (Ray-ven Leer): MC

- they/them

- 22 years old

- lives in a small (shit) town in new jersey

- has been at the “rehab house” for about three years

- infamous in the town- well known for their crimes (killed their dad, robbed stores, vandalism)

- dissociative disorder and depression

- has been good friends with Lukas* since childhood and more recently Lindsay*

- genuinely trying to create a better life, but feels like there’s no end to it all

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

*Lukas Carle: MC’s childhood friend

- he/him

- 23 years old

- has known Revon since elementary school

- has a shit home life

- used to steal, went to juvie for a while and fixed himself up there

- caring and protective of Revon (even tho they claim they don’t need his help)

- struggles with PTSD but he tries not to let it affect helping his friend

- lives in his own apartment but sleeps over with Revon whenever Susan* allows

- optimistic on the surface, a little broken inside

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

*Lindsay Webster: MC’s neighbor and friend(?)

- she/her

- 22 years old

- has been living at the rehab house for four years (just before revon got there)

- struggles with alcoholism and got arrested for drinking and driving

- deeply depressed, fucks around, doesn’t give a shit about her own life but she’s a good friend

- she likes listening, but talks a lot to fill the silence

- doesn’t see a point in trying to fix herself, thinks she’s too far gone- she only stays at the house so she’s not a danger to others

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Aster Larson: MC’s neighbor, friend (?) (LATER IN THE STORY)

- he/him

- 21 years old

- moves to the house after getting kicked out

- they’re one of the few people there who aren’t there on behalf of crime, Susan* just took him in

- very weary of revon (mostly because they’re an asshole to him) but bonds with lukas pretty quickly

- later on cares a lot for Diphylleia*

- struggles with OCD and anxiety

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Diphylleia Marne (Di-feel-ee-yah Mah-rn): MC’s neighbor, friend (?) (LATER IN THE STORY)

- xe/xem/xyr

- 21 years old

- moved to the house for arson and psychosis issues

- quickly bonds to Aster, wishes to be closer to Revon

- very quiet at first but kind and a little sarcastic one you get to know xem

- struggles with hallucinations and paranoia (so they’ve been stigmatized their whole life as “crazy”)

- trying to get better, but knows it’s unlikely they’ll ever get to live a normal life.

——————————————————————

✨half assed summary~✨

A slightly angsty (very sad) found family story about broken teens turned broken adults, finding their way to each other and helping each other find themselves.

*NOTE I FORGOT!!!!!: Susan is a sweet, older woman who’s a retired psychologist. she bought an apartment complex, where she takes in younger troubled people and provides a safe home, and counseling for them. Susan is an icon and we love her

[vitalphenomena]

@ruinaa said: you don't have to prove anything to everyone.

"That's—I don't—I know."

It has always been like this. Before the children and the bills and the farmhouse, there was still just the desire to be good, to do good, despite where—who—she came from. Juniper doesn't know how to shake this drive; she hasn't been entirely convinced that she should shake it, either.

Because she does have something to prove, doesn't she? To the men who have left her, to the people watching her struggle—and they must know she struggles, or else why would she constantly be being offered help? Someone must be waiting for her to fail. She can't allow that someone to be herself; Juniper requires herself to be endowed with a violently blinding optimism.

Maybe it is impossible, to completely assuage all worries possessed by all people. Maybe it's impossible generally to control what others think of her. But she has to try, doesn't she?

They're drinking tea on the porch. Davy and Phoebe are asleep at the same time, which is such a rare occurrence that Juniper nearly wept from relief when she closed their bedroom door behind her. Ridley and Aster and Isabel are still too young to have made the journey, and too young to play meaningfully with Davy and Phoebe, even under supervision, so it is just Josephine. Somehow, this puts even more pressure on Juniper.

"I'm just living, I think. I'm just trying to—do this right. It's just about me, for once. — shoot. Is that bad to say?"

[wantedbythemasters]

Maria Taylor | The Vicious Artist’s Model

Image from here

Age in 1902 (or the 3rd 1899): 41

Gender: Female, she/her

Height: 4’11

Weight: 120 lbs

Sexuality: Bisexual

Race: White

Love Interest: Isaac, very recently Charles

Factions: Criminals, Revolutionaries, Bohemians

Open to RP: Yep! 

Open to Shipping: Yep (she’s in an open relationship)

Past Epithet: The Sultry Smuggler

Desc:

Maria is a model with a criminal past. Threatening her or her partners is rarely a good idea. She’s also known to be friendly and helpful to younger creatives and criminals though. She also tends to be loud and outspoken when she’s comfortable, though she’s extremely good at pretending to be someone else when she needs to.

Despite being with a (somewhat covert) revolutionary and formerly with a devil, she also maintains a friendship with Mr Wines which helps her get people she cares about out of trouble on occasion. She generally supports the Liberation of Night as an idea, but like Isaac, doesn’t see it as being particularly likely to happen. And she’s vehemently against the Calendar Council. At revolutionary meetings, she’s often one to call out classist attitudes and encourage people to focus on the present instead of nebulous ideas.

Appearances:

playing chess with half the pieces - Major character

Tea Time - Major character

Timeline:

1861

Maria Taylor was born to a poorer family in London.

1862-1874

London fell, bringing Maria and her family with it. So she mostly grew up in the Neath and considers it to be her only home. Also, her 3 younger siblings were born in 1863, 1870, and 1874 respectively.

1877

Maria’s parents had always struggled to pay their bills, so she wanted to find a way to pitch in. She encountered the Gracious Widow’s gang and decided to join, beginning to smuggle to bring money back to her family.

1878

Aster began working with the Widow around this time, and Maria and Aster found themselves working together a lot. She viewed him as another sibling, but he didn’t trust her.

1880

Maria also realized she wanted to model, and began doing so under different aliases with stolen clothing.

1887

After her explosive breakup with Isaac, over his decision to try to work with the constabulary to figure out what had happened to Arthur’s adoptive dad, she began to feel especially self conscious about what she was doing with her life. And she’d always felt like she couldn’t keep up enough with the other smugglers. But when she was modeling, she met Sinning Jenny, who offered to hire her at the Parlour of Virtue. She decided to take this offer, and went to tell Aster about it. He was pissed, and accused her of using being a criminal as a game, and now she’d be able to move on. She’d said some not so nice things to him in response, and they lost contact.

While working at the Parlour of Virtue, Maria began to get the favour of Mr Wines.

1891

Maria decided to work as a model full time, and Mr Wines helped her a lot with securing opportunities initially.

1895

Isaac and Maria both started to receive love letters from a devil, and discovered it was the same devil, Charles. This led to Isaac and Maria reconnecting, and eventually, all three of them began dating, but it was still an open relationship. They both ended up moving into Isaac’s townhouse.

Despite moving in with a revolutionary, and like Sinning Jenny, supporting the cause herself, she still managed to stay friendly with Mr Wines (to Isaac’s chagrin).

1899 (the first) (maybe)

Maria and Aster reconnected when May brought Aster to one of Isaac and Arthur’s salons.

[calronhunt]

WAC human au thoughts

Lain (Lain King) - ex-warehouse nightguard for his father's (the king's) company. Accidentally testified against his father in a trial and got him convicted. Currently works at a convenience store clerk and slowly becoming friends with Canary.

Mariner (Martin McMurphy Jr.) - youtube video essayist and husband to Canary. His teenage mother put him up for adoption as a child and was adopted by Martin McMurphy Sr, a war vet. He's got no intention of looking for his birth mother. A lot of his videos focus on the sea and his fascination with it.

Canary (Canary McMurphy) - WifeHusband of Mariner and cousin to Crane. Has struggled with depression most of her life and finds comfort in Mariner's philosophy on life. Recognized Lain while he was working as a convience store clerk from the news and kindled a friendship with him. Really just wants to make sure he doesn't keep eating whole bags of chips for dinner.

The King (Henry King) - Lain's adopted father and ex-CEO of some kinda mega corporation (think walmart). Is currently in jail for tax evasion, money laundering, and [redacted].

Crane (Charlotte Adler) - Owner of a small butchery that focuses primarily on poultry called The Flock. Is married to Scout but isn't in love with him. Literally picked Condor up bleeding off the streets and now he's working for her at the butchery and also fucking him on the side. Is decently close with her cousin Canary.

Condor (Connor Davenport) - Ex-con turned butcher. Used to be in underground fighting rings and other illegal activities. He "Turned over a new leaf" and now works for Crane. He's fucking her but also playing faux-Sugar daddy for Grouse. His personality is basically the same as canon he just doesn't murder as much (or does he...?)

Grouse (Gregory Spurling) - unemployeed Sugar baby to Condor. Fully head over heels in love with Condor and doesn't care that the other guy sees him as a fun side thing. Still lives in a really shitty apartment and is so greasy because his landlord won't fix his shower. Primarily showers when hes at Condor's or Crane's. Thinks he's way cooler than he is.

Scout (Stephen "Scout" Adler) - War vet which caused him to prematurely grey and Husband to Crane. Does not care for his wife, but doesn't wanna go through the hassle of divorce. He met Wolf when his car broke down in the woods and she helped him get it running again. They hit it off and Scout visits her every other weekend.

Warbler (Wilhelmina "Mina" Columbo) - highschool freshman who just figured out she was a T-girl. Lives with her single mother Molly and her older brother Tom. Molly and Crane and friends so she often spends time at Crane's house. Calls Scout "Uncle Scout." He sometimes takes Warbler and her brother to Wolf's cabin for camping trips when Molly and Crane wanna have a girl's weekend.

Wolf (Winona Wolf) - Scary british woman who lives out in the woods by herself. Very into vulture culture and hunting/fishing scene. Doesn't like visitors on her property but loves Scout so allows him to bring other guests sometimes. Her house is adorned with so many bones and taxidermy animals.

Sycamore (Celia Sycamore) - The King's ex-wife, estranged step mom of Lain, and biological mother of Aster. She's Canary's therapist and helps her work through her depression and such. Gets accidentally reconnected with Lain through Canary this way. She doesn't always make the best choices, but she's trying.

Aster (Aster Sycamore) - son of Sycamore and the King and brother of Lain. He looks up to Lain a lot, even though because of the divorce they didn't get to see each other often. He just graduated highschool and is going to become a doctor.

Coal (Cole Lowell) - Lain's childhood friend and bf and guy who peaked in highschool. He's super in love with Lain and is trying to support him but not doing the best job. Coal can't find stable work himself very often either, leaving him as not the best caretaker. He believes that Lain loves him back completely though.