#or have it be a side thing for garden of spheres

[turndecassette2]

what are you gonna do with wolrd heist after october

let it marinate in its own juices for a few months (lots of stuff going on) then tidy it up, maybe add a few pages next spring/summer to make it something physically publishable

[sguidwards-bestfriend]

New Dimension, Who's This?

honestly writing this cuz I saw @gin2212 's comment and made me teary, so were gunna finish this bad boy! not today but you know... it will happen

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, part 5, part 6

Explicit mentions of death (but of characters that are currently living) Kind of OG version of their deaths

Danny had only walked through the Wayne’s home adjacent gardens once, in a direct route to the barn. Batcow was a highlight of that little excersion.

Now, however, they were actually looking at the shrubbery shaped like boring spheres and rectangles.

He felt Jason become distant and floated back a bit, he’d turned left into a very small opening.

Inside were three unmovable cement benches that curved slightly into one circle. The well cut bushes were wilder in here, making it cramped and impossible to see over the hedge.

“This spot used to be my favorite, when the weather was nice. I’d come out here with a book and whatever drink Alfred had decided to make that day.” Jason looked down at a square of cement in the middle, probably where a table had been. The indents on the side of the seats, likely from the mold it was made from, had moss growing in it.

“This seems like the perfect hideout.” Danny smiled and sat on the bench opposite Jason.

Jason hummed in agreement, he coughed awkwardly even for Danny’s standards and spoke up again. “So, you’re the god of death?” Jason was probably really good at looking casual and intimidating to most people, but Danny could sense the tension emanating from his core as he sat near a branch mere inches from his face with his hands in his pockets, probably wishing he could lean against something to look nonchalant.

“Nope, I’m the king of the dead. They aren’t the same thing.”

“So, you’re not Hades?”

“I hope not, I’ve met him and he’s kind of a dick.”

Jason laughed softly, he liked how it sounded “Okay, cool, so the Greek gods exist.”

“All of the gods do, technically.” He waited for Jason to look at him. “I know it’s hard to wrap your head around, but the infinite realms isn’t really a dimension on its own. It’s the space between all dimensions. When you die you have to pass through it to get to your destination. Some people don’t have a place and they end up part of my realm, some get lost, some sell their soul, others forget their lives entirely and are part of my people from the second they pass over. Then there are the never-borns: souls that form from pure will of the infinite realms. All that is part of my domain.” Danny floated up a bit to try and catch a glimpse of the stars, the smog from Gotham blocking everything. He looked back at Jason and his stomach did a little flip that he decidedly did nothing about. “But just so were clear; hell, the underworld, and all those other things are in the infinite zone. They aren’t all the same thing.”

“Okay. So, you rule over those too?”

“Again no, once a soul gets into the correct dimension, I don’t really have anything to do with it.”

“Wait so if someone who believes in an afterlife sells their soul what happens?”

Danny slouched in the air and grunts, “That’s where all the fucking paperwork comes in. I really want you to imagine the most bureaucratic way to possibly move to a new country, but you have none of your documents. Being stuck in this dimension was a fun break at first, but now all I can think of are the stacks of A-13 forms that are probably covering the castle floors.”

Jason shifted and with it came a wave of uncertainty. “If someone was killed and brought back, what then?”

Danny has seen how ghosts in the zone get when they talk about their deaths. For many it’s all they remember of their life. If a ghost with years to think it through reacts explosively he’s not sure how it will go with a newbie. “Well, a few things. The soul could come back to a place without a body in which case you have a true haunting. If the death was quick, it could have flash formed a core, that’s like a soul that has died fully, and then shoved back into the living body. That’s how you get halfas like me.”

Jason still looked cool and collected on the outside but there was unbelievable turmoil seeping out of him. “What if the body was dead for a while? What if a soul or core was shoved back into a body on purpose?”

“I’ve only seen one revival before, but there was a lot of time warping there. The necromancers I’ve met who were trying to bring someone back didn’t have access to ectoplasm which had results that are very different to… having it.” Danny breathed out to calm himself, letting that calm wave wash over Jason as well. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s alright.” Jason shuffled his leather jacket, “You call it ectoplasm.”

“Yeah.” Danny answered with a lilt in his voice.

“The green goop filled pools you said you emptied, you mentioned they were corrupted.”

“I did yeah.”

“What would happen if someone was exposed to that?”

“Honestly, it’s not the first time I’ve come across it but never that much. For ghosts it can leave them sick and weak for days. Not like polluted water, more like if you switched out the water a healthy person drank for soda exclusively. It won’t kill them, but it will have a negative effect.” Danny thought for a second and remembered the one-time Sam got covered in a mix of good and contaminated ecto during a fight with Undergrowth. “I saw how a diluted version of it affected a living person, her mind was warped and she had the same sort of tunnel vision a ghost has if they have a particularly strong obsession.”

Jason took a breath, he’d been going strong so far. Danny may come to regret this, but he put a hand on his shoulder and floated where they’d be face to face, letting his bottom half fade away into the ghostly tail. “I won’t do it if you don’t want me to, but I can subdue your emotions a bit if you want to talk about it.” Jason looked up quickly and Danny scrambled to correct himself. “I haven’t been doing that! Well, like not in a controlling way, more like the ghost version of calming down a friend who’s freaking out. If you pushed past it I wouldn’t hold you back.”

“You should.” Danny couldn’t help the questioning noise that came out of him, “The first year I came back, I don’t remember it well, but I tried to kill Tim… and possibly Damian. If I do go too far hold me back.”

Danny nodded, “Back in the hall, when Tim was taking an unorthodox amount of coffee cups out of his room,” Jason snorted a bit and smiled, “you didn’t fight me stopping your emotions from bubbling over. I think, with even a little help, you do in fact make the right decisions.”

Jason’s hand came up to hold on to Danny’s forearm, “I went out to stop the top villain at the time, the Joker. I really did think I could beat him so I turned off my coms. He… He beat me to an inch of my life and left me to die in the explosion he’d rigged up.” Jason’s body was hot to the touch and he was obviously timing his breaths. “I can still feel the damn crowbar he used whenever I fall asleep. Batman had never been late before; he’d never let something like that go past him. My plan B was him, and he didn’t make it.”

Danny hummed. A benefit of their shared ghostliness in needing not to use his words, he pushed through waves of camaraderie and understanding.

“I had dug myself out of my own grave. I don’t remember much other than pain for months. Then Talia, Damian’s genetic mother, threw me into a Lazarus pit. The first thing I remember seeing was looking up at her terrified face, tinted in green.”

There was anger as he spoke her name, Danny controlled the waves of corrupted ecto that were threating to turn those emotions against Jason’s true wishes.

“I was fifteen, how does someone let a child do that. I was a kid!” Jason’s emotions were switching around and Danny could hear the forming core start too fuss. “I was just a kid.”

Danny came closer and wrapped all four of his arms around Jason, squeezing him just enough to feel a weight on him, but not so much it was restrictive.

Jason still seemed tense so, Danny did the only thing he could think of, he talked of his own death.

“My parents built the first ever physical portal to the realms. I was messing around with friends and they dared me to walk into the useless frame. My parents always had a tendency of forgetting lab safety and making just one mistake in every build. I’m not sure how they managed to put the on button inside it, but I tripped, hitting it on my way down. I could feel every bolt of electricity ripping me apart as the link between worlds opened directly on top of me. I died separate to my body and ended up like this.” Danny moved back and looked down at himself without letting go of Jason. “I tried to tell my parents at first, but they were always busy.

They spent the day I finally gave up trying to trap my sister; thinking she was the ghost their devices we’re picking up.”

Jason rested his forehead on Danny’s, sighing against the cold touch. “How old we-“

“Fourteen.”

“We were kids.”

“Yeah,” Danny kept his forehead against Jason’s. Two arms he left at Jason’s shoulders, the other two caressing his arms.

With a wave of confidence and fear Jason grabbed Danny by the waist and pulled him in for a real hug.

They held each other there, hidden amongst the foliage, until it started to drizzle.

“We should-“

Danny cut him off, pulling back to show the tears running down his face. “Can we go to your room?”

“Yeah, come on.”

They didn’t touch on the walk through the garden, or at the entrance, or in the hall. No, it wasn’t until the door was closed behind them that Danny came forward and just barely touched his arm.

Jason grabs him and pulls him in again, this time resting his chin on the top of Danny’s head. The attempt to calm Danny down just as he had for Jason made him start to cry again, this time much happier.

The surge pushed his kingly nature to shift into something more human. His arms went back to only two, his skin became that of a pale human’s (for the most part), his ears shrank down and his pointy teeth rounded out. And, surprisingly, his form gave him pajamas.

The ecto the change required didn’t accept the contaminated ecto that Jason had sent and Danny sagged into Jason, his knees buckling.

“Hey, hey.” Jason hushed, “I’ve got you.”

He sat Danny on the bed and went to get pajamas for himself. Once changed he laid down beside Danny and curled around him.

Danny was laying on his back, his legs bent over Jason’s thighs, who was laying on his side up against Danny. Creating a cocoon to hold Danny in.

They fell asleep quickly, Danny held Jason's hand on his chest throughout the rest of the night.

Neither of them had nightmares.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

@bjurnberg, @skulld3mort-1fan, @akikkobara @undead-bi-dinosaur, @amyheart19, @phoenixdemonqueen, @not-your-average-url, @seraphinedemort, @theywontletmeusetheoneiwant,  @satisfactionbroughtmeback, @kyrianclawraith, @i-always-say-yea, @gin2212

[thatfeelinwhenyou]

KINDRED — 29

It’s your final year of highschool, and your only goal is to graduate top of your cohort, as usual. Except as student council president, your advisor can’t seem to leave you alone. What happens when you take Decelis Academy’s top student, their star athlete and put them in front of a camera?

smau + written (2.0k words)

❥･• episode 29 — the garden is full of surprises

"Y/N," you hear Jungwon's voice, and you squint your eyes playfully as he approaches you from his group of friends.

It's funny, fascinating even, how despite Jake endlessly speculating about the possible questions on today's paper, Sunoo complaining about not having enough study time, and Sunghoon who came to school with a singular pencil declaring that he hadn't studied at all (even though everyone knows he probably pulled an all-nighter), Jungwon remains entirely focused on you.

It’s a peculiar thing, how the world around him seems to fade away when you’re near; his eyes and ears attuned to your every move.

He watches as you anxiously pick at your nails, a nervous habit that he took notice of over the past week. He observes how you close your eyes and silently recite the formulas that have been etched into your brain since the beginning of the school year, just in the slightest case you forget. And most importantly, he notices how your eyes light up when you confidently answer a question, one that either Chanelle or Yunjin has quizzed you on.

It's as though, in the midst of the chaotic pre-exam chatter, Jungwon has the unique ability to filter out the world, focusing solely on the sphere you occupy.

Just before you make your way into the exam room, he leans in and gently pats your head in a reassuring gesture. The touch sends a shiver down your spine, reminiscent of the night he walked you home and how that small gesture kept you awake the entire night. His eyes are determined, silently encouraging you and assuring you that, no matter what happens, he's there for you just as you are for him.

"Good luck, Y/N," he murmurs, his voice laced with a spring-like warmth despite the approaching winter chill.

With a renewed sense of determination, you stride into the exam room, your heart fortified by his presence and the whispered encouragement still echoing in your head. As you take your respective seats, you exchange one more glance with Jungwon—a glance that nearly convinced you nothing in this world could possibly go wrong, as long as you had him by your side.

Friday comes around rather quickly (contrary to your liking), and your final English Literature paper proves to be a tad more challenging than you had expected. Having been more proficient at it compared to other students, you chose to put it aside, focusing on other core subjects (and Jungwon). Before you knew it, you had completely neglected it by the time the exam rolled around.

Completing the paper is one thing; however, whether you're confident in your performance is a question to be pondered on another day. Or at least, that's what you attempt to tell yourself.  On the other hand, you're glad to see that your friends seem to have a huge weight lifted off their shoulders as they discuss activities they could do over the two-week break before the final term.

More pressing matters, this final literature paper also marks the conclusion of your and Jungwon’s daily study sessions that stretch into the wee hours of the night—the end of an excuse you used way too often to see him over the weekend.

"Now that mid-terms are over, I say we celebrate," Yunjin pipes up among your friends who are discussing the answers to the literature paper, the scarred look on Beomgyu’s face telling you everything you need to know about how it went for him. 

Yunjin's proposal sends a ripple of excitement through the group. "Celebrate? Sounds like a plan," Sunoo says, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. His eyes sparkle with anticipation, mirroring the glimmer of excitement that's now contagious.

“We deserve it after all that studying," Chanelle adds, her tone reflecting a mix of relief and enthusiasm, and Judging by the collective nods, it's a sentiment that resonates with everyone.

As plans for the celebration unfold, Jungwon leans in, and with a mischievous glint in his eyes, he whispers, “I think I deserve a present for my hard work and dedication in the last month or so, what do you think?”

Your response comes in the form of a mock scoff. “Pulled a few all-nighters, and you think you’re all that, huh, Yang Jungwon?” He's about to offer a witty retort when Sunghoon interjects.

“I know, let’s all go to Jay’s. I’m one-hundred percent sure Mrs. Park would love to have us over,” Sunghoon suggests, his eyes dancing with mischief.

“Yeah, she would, everyone but you.” Jay sends Sunghoon a playful glare, causing the latter to chuckle sheepishly while rubbing the back of his neck. The room fills with laughter, and you just know the man is up to no good. One thing that these boys have reiterated over and over is to NOT let Sunghoon into your home, especially the kitchen. You didn’t question the advice, but knowing him, it’s probably best to heed it.

You can almost taste the excitement in the air, a sweet residue of relief, joy, and the sweet anticipation of post-exam celebrations. As the discussion continues, plans solidify. The prospect of visiting Jay’s house brings a collective sense of anticipation. But of course, it’s not going to happen without Jay sitting Sunghoon down, in the corner of the classroom, drilling the notion that his kitchen is most definitely not a kid's toy. 

When the whole lot of you poured into the living quarters of the Park family, the look on Mrs. Park’s face was almost comical. Yet, she just as quickly concedes to the pleas of her son, knowing he worked his ass off the past few weeks studying. And like mother, like son, Mrs. Park didn’t miss the chance to shoot a playful glare, or more like a warning, at Sunghoon.

The living room was transformed into a cosy haven, with blankets strewn across the floor, creating makeshift seating areas. The walls were adorned with Polaroid snapshots capturing moments from Jay’s high school journey—a testament to the bonds he had forged over the years. As the evening unfolds, you and your friends find yourselves immersed in a delightful mix of activities. 

Chanelle and Sunoo engage in a passionate debate over Twilight, their banter infusing the room with infectious energy. Beomgyu, perhaps the most spirited of the bunch, erupts in cheers or protests with every twist and turn in his game against Heeseung in League of Legends. Gyuvin and Riki, mischievous as ever, playfully assault you all by pouring ice down your shirts. Yunjin, Jake, Jay, and Ryujin immerse themselves in the hot wing challenge, courtesy of Mrs. Park's culinary prowess. Sunghoon remains mysteriously absent, leaving you and Jungwon on the porch, seeking refuge from the lively chaos that ensues behind the glass barrier.

Seated on a bench nestled amidst the bushes, you and Jungwon face the entrance leading back to the area where Gyuvin is presently in hot pursuit of Beomgyu, presumably over something stupid. The gentle flicker of the lanterns strung up along the trees cast a soft glow on your faces as you shared a moment of tranquillity. 

Neither you nor Jungwon initiates conversation, yet the silence is comfortable, reminiscent of the many study sessions you shared with the boy. The realisation dawns that with the reopening of the new term, there's no longer a reason for Jungwon to accompany you to the library or for you to attend his practices. The two of you will no longer be tied down by the documentary, returning your lives to the way they were over a month ago. The only difference being you no longer despise one another. Strangely, this revelation brings a touch of sadness, a sentiment you find surprising given that, not long ago, you'd have celebrated the prospect of no longer having to associate with him.

You share a silent laugh at the antics of your friends. As you reflect on the night, another thought hovers—soon, you'll part ways with these people as graduation approaches, and each will embark on their own set path. The bittersweet realisation lingers, casting a subtle shadow over the otherwise joyous celebration.

You're so caught up in your own overthinking that you don’t even realise Jungwon inching closer to you on the bench, closer than he was over a minute ago. He is apprehensive when he realises the expression on your face shifting into a mix of lethargy and melancholy. In a spontaneous move, he closes his eyes and lays his head on your shoulder, a silent attempt to divert your thoughts from whatever troubles you. Unsurprisingly, it works like a charm.

"What are you doing?" Your shoulder tenses as you try not to shift too much under his weight. Clearly, intimate skinship isn't your forte, evident by the awkwardness in your posture. Yunjin would probably find it amusing to see you in this state.

"I'm recharging. It's been a really long week, and I'm exhausted. Let's stay like this for a few more minutes," Jungwon says, his voice dropping an entire octave lower than usual. You don't protest, finding yourself enjoying the unexpected intimacy of the moment. You make the bold decision to rest your own head atop Jungwon’s, shifting around to find a comfortable spot to settle in. Unseen by you, a smile slowly creeps up on the boy's lips.

"I can't believe mid-terms are finally over," you remark, a genuine smile gracing your face. The scent of the blooming flowers in the garden envelops the air, adding a touch of sweetness to the moment. Jungwon nods against your shoulder, and you feel the soft bristles of his hair tickling your face. His gaze fixates on the lone firefly that somehow found its way into Jay’s garden, its gentle glow dancing in the night. 

"It feels like a weight has been lifted, doesn't it?" He says, almost absentmindedly. The soft murmur of laughter from your friends in the background creates a soundtrack to this serene evening.

You chuckle, your gaze falling onto the same firefly, “Not really, your head is actually pretty heavy." You hear him silently let out a 'tch' and you snicker.

Jungwon's expression softens, and he takes a moment before speaking. "You know, I was thinking about our late-night study sessions. I'll miss them." A playful glint enters your eyes. "Oh, are you going to miss me, or just me helping you with trigonometry?"

Jungwon laughs and you can feel the subtle vibration beneath you, the sound of his laughter carrying a warmth that echoes the sentiment between you. "Maybe a bit of both."

The gentle breeze carries a faint fragrance of jasmine, creating an atmosphere of quiet intimacy. The silence this time around is more anticipative than comfortable. There is an unspoken notion that hangs in the air, and neither of you is sure of how to approach it. That is until Jungwon does.

“It doesn’t have to end,” he starts as he lifts his head from your shoulder, hanging it low to avoid looking into your eyes.

“What do you mean?” 

“As in whatever we have, frankly the past month was one of the best months I’ve had in high school. You’re a really good friend, Y/N. And I don’t wish for us to go back to how we were before.” You notice the panicked language of his body, and you know Jungwon meant every single word he said. There's something about this boy that feels precious, so precious that it makes you want to hold onto every single thing, every single memory. And you already know that you, too, don’t want to lose this friendship, or whatever Jungwon calls it.

You rise from the bench and gracefully lower yourself to kneel in front of him, your eyes meeting his, which were avoiding yours just moments before. The vulnerability in his gaze reveals the fear of losing you, teardrops barely concealed behind his eyelashes. 

So, when he expresses his reluctance for anything to change, you confidently tell him, “I wouldn’t want anything else.” as he pulls you into a tight embrace.

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♡。·˚˚· ·˚˚·。♡

authors note: i am so so so so sorry for this late chapter istg the writer’s block goes crazy 💀 as always i apologise for any typos or grammatical errors, i literally finished this at 2am in the morning 🤧

perm taglist. @hajimelvr @s00buwu @urmomssneakylink @grayscorner @bubblytaetae @mrchweeee @artstaeh @sleeping-demons @yuviqik @junsflow

taglist open! @uuzhanggggggg @missingemobeomgyu @jiawji @ocyeanicc @s7noo @asterizee @nwjws @noascats @yunwonie @saturnmooonxx @enhaz1 @jiaant11 @clairecottenheart @i2lain @miumiuoi @zhounauts @hoey2k @neocockthotology @nanuer @yenqa @ahnneyong @chanhee-hee @yanqiiuver @yujmelon @beomsbeanie @sloobydooburmomjungwon @sweetkeiji @jaeyunniesimp @jiamini @jihanniee @lilriswife4life

*white = cannot tag

[rendy-a]

Aha, requests are open, aha. How would Leona, Azul, and Kalim deal with a secret admirer that often sends them flowers with special (often romantic *cough cough*) meanings? :DD I'm really interested on reading your take on this~

I was really excited for this request but somehow, I kept getting writer’s block when doing it.  I finally have it ready!  Hope you enjoy it.  Thanks for requesting!

A Blooming Romance

Apple blossom and daisy: I prefer you before all, a loyal love

One day, Leona returns to his dorm room to find a small vase left on the table in his room.  It had a mixture of white flowers and looked out of place among the manly décor of Savanahclaw.  He considers its purpose, immediately rejecting having been put there by Ruggie.  The hyena would not bestir himself for something as frivolous as flowers, especially if there was no benefit to himself.  Honestly though, Leona hardly cares.  It was pointless to waste time on thinking of such things, so he merely draped himself on the bed and took his usual nap, giving them no more thought. 

When the apple blossoms started losing petals and the daisies dropping, Leona regarded them with a certain amount of cynical satisfaction.  What was the point of such things when they’d only wilt alone, without any chance to achieve their potential of seeding and creating a new generation of blooms.  Life’s not fair, is it?

Only, the flowers continued to arrive.  He returned one day to see, not the dropping and discarded blooms, but a fresh bouquet gracing the vase.  He frowned to view it, taking afront at the challenge to his depressing outlook.  As though someone cared.  Well surprise, now Leona cares enough to put effort into discovering the identity of the mystery sender.    

He figures out you are behind it really fast, once he has decided to try.  One, he has a great sense of smell and can pick up the lingering scent of flowers on you.  Two, he practically lives in the botanical garden, so he’s probably heard you picking flowers there a time or two.  Come on Prefect, at least try to make this a challenge for him.

He questions the meaning frequently.  Not that he doesn’t know the language of flowers because, as a royal, he is familiar with the use of flowers to convey meaning.  He has had education into such things from a young age, so he can be wary of accepting gifts with hidden strings or imparting unintended meanings into political spheres with a carelessly chosen gift.  So, he knows what they could mean only, to you…what do they mean?  Surely not what they seem, not for a second prince like him.  But why does he still hope…

If you don’t say anything, neither will he.  He is comfortable with the relationship you have and doesn’t want to make it complicated if you aren’t wanting to go there.  He has had a lot of disappointment in life and really doesn’t want to risk more.  He lets himself daydream about it a little bit though.

You stumble onto the path in the botanical gardens, nearly tripping over Leona.  You carefully pat your bag, where a bouquet rests (thankfully undamaged), hidden inside.  You wonder if you have a chance at slipping away unnoticed, not trusting yourself to keep your secret concealed from the sharp beastman.  However, your contemplation is cut short when Leona cracks open an eye.  After a moment of silence, he says, “Well?  Are you laying down or not?”  You realize you can’t just walk away now without rousing suspicion, so you set your bag carefully aside and lay down next to Leona to settle in for a nap. 

You pull your bag tight into yourself, hoping to keep it safe from harm (and prying eyes) while you nap.  Leona sees the gesture and says, “If you’re cold, you should come closer.  Don’t expect me to take care of you later if you get sick.”  You nervously slide closer to the lion beastman, until you can feel the warmth radiating from his side.  You hope your extremely flustered state isn’t obvious to your crush and lay waiting, dreading to hear some comment or jibe indicating he has noticed your foolish behavior.  You are so focused on your own apprehensions that you miss when he softly lays his tail over one of your legs, curling it slightly around as if to say, ‘this one is mine.’

A red carnation means love, pride, and admiration

When Azul returns from club activities and finds a bouquet tied with string sitting on his desk in the VIP room, his first reaction is to panic.  Who was in here and what did they see?  He sits at the desk and pulls up the security camera feed on his phone app.  A shadow spirit was not what he expected.  This variety, Azul knows, is connected to Sam’s Mystery Shop.  As a fellow businessman, Sam will engage in any business for the right price, even flower delivery.  However, that means the flower bouquet could reasonably be from anyone for any number of purposes.  Rather than being satisfied at finding the office intruder, Azul feels instead overwhelmed with questions.

Azul has never received flowers before, nor is he particularly informed on popular romance trends, so he is left unaware of the bouquet’s meaning.  Is this some land-dweller custom?  If Sam is involved, could it be tied to some business opportunity?  He really has no idea what this means but he does know what to do about that, research.

Azul goes to the library to research flower bouquets and customs related to receiving one.  That leads him to researching flower language and...  He bursts into the lounge, making a beeline for his VIP room.  He sequesters himself in there with a book on flower language, getting more and more flustered as he finds the meanings to the flowers.  Love…admiration…pride… and these were chosen for him?  You now have one very flustered octomer sitting on the couch, gazing at the bouquet and kicking his feet wildly like a schoolgirl.

While before he was merely curious as to the sender and possible business opportunities, Azul very quickly becomes quite obsessed with discovering his mystery admirer.  He does a complete investigation into the sender.  Your desire to continue sending your crush flowers does you in.  While Sam is as tight-lipped about your identity as you’d hoped, Azul arranges for Idia to pull security footage of the area outside the Mystery Shop.  After combing through countless hours of footage, a list of suspects is made based on patterns of who is visiting the Mystery Shop around the dates of delivery.  Now all that is left is to send Jade and Floyd to follow the suspects for confirmation.

When Jade and Floyd start following you, a sense of dread falls to the pit of your stomach.  You’ve taken this secret admirer thing too far.  You felt that your heart could more easily handle a rejection from Azul than being in a constant state of terror from being stalked by the Leech brothers, so you gathered your courage and decided it was time to confess in person.

When you arrive at Monstro Lounge and request a private conversation with Azul, you receive a very creepy laugh from Floyd and an even creepier smile from Jade.  “I believe that can be arranged, Prefect.” Jade tells you and leads you to the VIP room.  Oddly enough, Jade doesn’t even inform Azul that you’ve arrived; he merely opens the door for you and gestures for you to enter.  You feel a sense of foreboding, this is almost too easy, but you enter anyway.

When you pass over the threshold and turn your gaze to the interior of the room, you notice that Azul isn’t sitting at his desk but is instead reviewing the contents of his safe.  When he hears someone enter, he says, “Is there a problem Jade?  I asked for some privacy.”  You feel unsure about being here now.  “Um, its only me.  Sorry?” you say timidly.  Azul’s head whips around to look at you.  He catches your gaze, and his eyes widen slightly as a slight flush rises to his cheeks.  You felt unsure if that was because of the awkward statement when you entered the room or other reasons.

“Oh…o..of course, Prefect,” Azul stammers, momentarily caught off-guard, “Do come in.” With a gesture, he indicates you should take a seat before turning to close the safe.  You do sit down but at the same time, something in the safe catches your eye before it fully closes.  Your first bouquet, tied with string, has been magically preserved and is being kept in the safe.  You remember cutting the flowers for that bouquet from the botanical garden and tying them together yourself with some string you found in Ramshackle.  After that first bouquet, Sam commented that he could easily take over that task, adding the flowers and arranging to your tab for a reasonable amount and you had agreed.  The subsequent bouquets had been more professionally done up with paper and ribbon, making that first heartfelt bouquet so recognizable.  And he’d kept it. 

In the time it takes for Azul to turn back around and sit himself across from you in his chair, your demeanor has undergone a remarkable change.  You feel a confidence you hadn’t had before, and your smile is a bright indication of this.  Azul has a good idea of why you are here, having narrowed down the list of suspects greatly, but his own inexperience with romance has made him uncharacteristically timid.   What will he do if this is all just some joke to you, another cruel taunt added to the string of harsh incidents that make up his life.

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company tonight, Prefect?” Azul asks cautiously.  You smile back at him.  “Where those flowers I saw in there?  Must be pretty important to keep them locked up in there.”  Azul’s eyes widen and he stutters back at you, “N.n.no!  Its j.just…nothing.  It’s nothing.”  At his reaction, you know Azul indeed feels something connected to the flowers.  You feel your confidence welling up and boldly stand and approach Azul where he sits behind his desk. 

“You know, flowers have meanings.  Are you curious about those?  I could tell you some things, if you want.”  Azul looks a strange mix of nervous and hopeful as he asks, “What do you intend to get in exchange for that information?"  You place one hand on the arm of his chair and reply, “Oh not much, I’d just like to tell you in my own way.  Is that alright?”  Instead of speaking, Azul gives you a curt nod.  You smile and swivel his chair before sitting in his lap.  Azul’s composure entirely dissolves as you smile lovingly at him and declare, “They mean pride, admiration and,” you lean closer to whisper the last word in his ear, “love.”  You sit there, enjoying the way Azul blushes and raises his hand to hide behind as he observes you from between his splayed digits.  What you don’t realize is he is using this time to plan a contract for you, one that will keep you by his side.  Before the night is out, he is determined that you’ll be agreeing, It’s a Deal!

Red tulip: I declare my affection for you

Kalim is an open person, inviting many people to visit him at Scarabia.  So, he is not at all phased to see you in the lounge one morning, standing near a vase of fresh red tulips.  When you startle at the sight of him and nervously look at the flowers, having been caught red-handed in your secret delivery, Kalim only gives you a hearty laugh. “Ah hah hah!  Aren’t flowers the greatest!  Next time, I’ll have to show you the flowers at my family’s home!  We’ll have a big banquet in the garden to celebrate!”  He then continues on his morning routine of visiting the magic carpet in his treasure chamber.  Jamil trails after him, turning briefly to give you a highly amused look before disappearing behind Kalim.

Kalim is clueless as to your gift and intention.  He doesn’t mean to be!  Its just that he has fresh flowers around all the time, so he doesn’t notice that those specific flowers are a gift from you.  Perhaps you prefer it that way?  If not, you’ll have to be more direct!  There is still time before classes; pull Kalim aside and tell him the flowers are a gift.

Your talk doesn’t go as planned.  Even after you directly tell him the flowers are a gift from you, he doesn’t connect it with romance at all.  He just thinks is a really nice gesture from a really nice friend.  Jamil knows though.  He knows about your crush and the flower’s meaning and everything.  Just look at the way he laughs silently at you behind lidded eyes, he knows.

You have two options here; just directly confess or get Jamil on your side.  If you can convince Jamil you are harmless, he might even help you out.  If you start dating, then Kalim is your problem for at least part of the day.  Actually, time to himself sounds rather nice.  Once you depart from Scarabia, Jamil begrudgingly talks to Kalim about the bouquet.

You hear a knock on the front door and head to open it.  You don’t often have visitors at Ramshackle, leaving you to wonder who it might be.  When you open the door, you are tackled into a hug by Kalim.  “Ah hah hah!  There you are, Prefect!  I’ve been looking all over for you.”  You are taken aback by his sudden appearance.  After the disaster of your near confession this morning, you weren’t expecting to see Kalim any time soon, let alone before lunch on the same day. 

“Ah, Kalim,” you bashfully say as you gently return his greeting hug. “Umm, what brings you here?”  He pulls back enough to look at you, flashing a bright smile.  “Jamil explained it all to me.  I never knew you liked to arrange flowers!  That’s so great!”  You realize he’s missed the point of the bouquet again and give him an awkward grin.  “Well, you know…its good to have hobbies?”  Kalim nods his head enthusiastically, as though that was a great point of wisdom being bestowed upon him.  “I know!  Jamil even said so too!  In fact, he told me that I should invite you to lunch at Scarabia to tell me more about it!”  Jamil, that snake.

You arrive in Scarabia, having been coaxed and dragged along by Kalim.  You weren’t sure if you were ready to face your embarrassment from this morning again, but Kalim was so excited to hear more about flowers that you found you couldn’t refuse him.  Lunch is being served when you arrive, curtesy of Jamil.  A variety of Scalding Sand’s dishes are arranged on a table, using your flower vase as a centerpiece.  Before he leaves you two alone, Jamil pauses to say, “I’ll expect you to watch over Kalim until lunch ends.  I’m sure you can handle that, correct?”  You give him a firm nod and Jamil seems skeptical but still departs.

Once alone, Kalim keeps up a chain of conversation.  He talks about the food, the weather, classes; an array of random topics but each one discussed joyfully and enthusiastically.  Finally, he seems to settle his eyes upon your flowers, and he recalls the reason for your visit.  “Oh, Prefect!  I nearly forgot about the flowers!”  You jump and gaze upon the flowers, having forgotten them yourself.  “Ah well,” you begin, feeling a heat rising on your face, “these ones are a symbol of affection.  That you want to spend more time with someone special to you.” 

Kalim beams at you before declaring that he’d love to spend more time with you too!  You’ll have to come over to Scarabia more often.  In fact, he’ll invite everyone and you’ll have the most amazing party!  Ultimately, you are left unsure as to whether Kalim has really understood the situation.  However, when Kalim stands, throws an arm around you, and leads you to the mirror; you decide it doesn’t really matter.  You’ve achieved your goal, to spend more time with your crush.  The rest can take its time.  Even flowers know how to wait for their season.

[rebornologist]

I'm back! Delivering what I promised, just a few thoughts. Enjoy xx

୨୧ ⁺˳₊ pomegranate tea; at what point did they know they loved their s/o? ✧ characters: Giotto, Daemon Spade warnings: mentions of Daemon's willingness to do anything for his s/o

♡ Giotto knew that he loved his s/o when he wanted to marry them. He’s not a traditional man  by any sense, but he was quite formal in courting them, and is traditional in this one aspect of his life—wanting to live the rest of his life deeply intertwined with his s/o, and maybe even have a family down the line.. not just the mafia kind.

Giotto seemed a bit stressed lately. He's overworked, as usual, and not particularly sunny, which was a bummer, because the spring wildflowers were in full bloom.

୨୧ ˳⁺✧

The radio plays quietly as the two of you drive out to your favorite picnic spot. Despite everything, he makes time for you. You appreciate every minute with him because of it. The silent is cut by the sweet sound of his voice.

“Hypothetically, when do you think is a good time to get married?”

You blink, wide eyes pausing your leisure activity of taking in the beautiful gardens you were currently being driven through.

"Par..don..?" You turn your head around to see your partner's stoic face still facing the road.

He chuckles lightly, "oh.. is it.. too early to ask? Even hypothetically-"

"No, no, it's not too early for us to be talking about this kind of thing," you insist, shifting fully in your seat to face him. "You aren't asking because you're going to propose to me on our picnic, right?"

He blinks, once, twice. You stifle a giggle at his blank expression. He's as readable as ever, he didn't plan on it, he didn't even think of it. He might steal that idea for the future, though.

♡ Daemon Spade knew that he loved his s/o when he felt completely under their spell—something not common for a man like him, it’s usually the other way around. He went to sleep every night with the realization gnawing at his insides, growing, practically festering, knowing that he would absolutely kill and die for them.

Your partner is not a peaceful sleeper, and often lies awake in the middle of the night next to you. He does not usually sleep well, but at least he doesn't get as many nightmares when he's with you. You've recently begin to wonder what your significant other is up to when you're asleep and he is awake. Even more when you are asleep and he is not even by your side.

୨୧ ˳⁺✧

"Daemon-"

"Yes, precious thing?" He answers without missing a beat. The two of you were getting ready for a dinner party. You enjoyed going out with him, meeting all types of people in every sphere of life and observing your enigmatic boyfriend in some pretty strange social situations.

You snort quietly, amused at his quick response.

"Have you ever killed for me?"

He pauses, expression unreadable. "Isn't the question usually, would you..." he turns to gaze curiously at his lover, who is currently shrugging a long coat on over their evening attire. You adjust their hair casually, looking into the large vanity mirror in front of you.

"I know the answer to that already. Whether you've done it yet, is the question," you make eye contact with him in the reflection. He feels an indescribable tightness in his chest.

"If you were aware of the former matter, I can guarantee.. you already know the latter," he sighs, wondering what magic string of fate brought him to such an otherworldly being.

I don't love DS at all, and I find 1st gen really difficult to write for, but I'm fascinated by the concept of Daemon Spade, or any of the immoral, downright nasty characters, with a partner that are also mysterious and morally grey. Not a common ship dynamic to fight angst and evil w/ more angst and evil.

[neyswxrld]

do you wanna build a snowman?

Wrecker x reader (gn)

summary: Building a snowman with Wrecker!

warnings: mostly fluff, a slight "misunderstanding", some kisses at the end

word count: ~930

advent calendar masterlist

a/n: this is the thirteenth fic for my advent calendar! for my favorite muscle man!

p.s. english isn't my mother tongue, sorry for misspellings! 

"You have never built a snowman?" you ask Wrecker, confused.

"Well, never saw that much snow before," he explains, scratching his neck.

With big eyes, you look him up and down before shaking your head and pulling Wrecker over to your wardrobe.

"We need to change that! Come on, you'll have to wear something warm, and then we can go outside," you tell him, grabbing another pair of pants to put on.

A few minutes later, you're wrapped in the most comfortable and warm clothes, standing in your garden.

"Look, it all starts with a small snowball. You form it, put it on the ground, and then you start rolling it. The snow from the ground sticks to the ball and it'll grow," you explain and show him how to do it right.

Wrecker nods once. He forms another small ball and starts to do what you said.

You roll and roll, watching the ball grow.

When you're satisfied with the size of your first ball, you look up to see how Wrecker is doing. Instead of one, he already had built two huge sections and is about to staple them.

You have absolutely no idea how he did it, but you're surely impressed by their size.

While your basement is so big that you wouldn't be able to lift it, it is barely big enough to be the head of Wrecker's snowman.

"Wow, Wrecker! How did you do that so fast?" you ask with big eyes, and walk over to him.

"I just did what you told me," he grins proudly and is about to make another ball when you stop him.

"Wait! I've got mine left. If you make another one that big, there wouldn't be enough for two snowmen," you tell him and run back to your ball, starting to move it over to him.

The thing is heavy, and with time, you even have problems rolling it.

Luckily, Wrecker comes to your help and starts to help you handle it, getting it closer to his creation.

"Can you lift it, Mesh'la?" he asks, already a mocking grin on his face. He exactly knows that he will be able to play your favorite muscle man, who has to come to your help in a few seconds.

But it's something you love him for, so you'll play along.

"Yeah, yeah. So funny," you roll your eyes, smiling, starting to grip the huge package of snow, trying to lift it up.

Nothing happens. Just like expected.

"Ahww, okay. Come on, big guy. Show me your muscles!" you laugh, stepping aside.

Wrecker nods happily and starts to lift the ball on top of the other two.

"It's huge!" you say, looking up at the snow figure that almost tops Wrecker in height.

"Thank you, Wrecker. Now we have to decorate it!" you say and start explaining to him what you would need.

After some time, you have found all the required things and start to make some stone buttons, while Wrecker puts arms made out of some sticks into the middle section.

Then you start to build a face, put a carrot in the highest snow sphere, and put a small plant pod on its head, so it looks like a little hat. Or, well, maybe it's more like Wrecker is following your instructions because you can't reach the head that well.

Satisfied, Wrecker and you both take a step back and look at your snowman together.

"It looks great!" you smile and lean into his side, enjoying his warmth.

"Yeah, think so, too," Wrecker mumbles, not as enthusiastically as you, and suddenly, you have a feeling that he didn't enjoy the whole process like you did.

Concerned, you turn around to him and look at his face, which has a troubled expression on it.

"Hey, what's up? Are you okay?" you ask, now seriously worried.

"I-... You wanted to build that snowman, but I was too fast and- and needed too much snow. And now you couldn't build your own snowman," Wrecker says, playing with his fingers uncertainly.

You look at him confused before realization hits you, and the corners of your lips start to rise automatically.

"Oh, Wrecker! Stop thinking like that. You wanted to build one, too. And you've never even built one before. Of course, you have priority," you start to explain, stepping in front of him and taking his hands into yours.

"Besides, it's just snow. It won't be the last time we can build a snowman. And on top of that, I think it was really lovely to build one with you together. I'd rather build a hundred of them together with you than a single one on my own," you smile at him, squeezing his hands a little tighter.

Wrecker nods slightly.

"Yeah, it really was fun to do that together," he says and starts to smile, too.

Happily, you come a little bit closer and stand on your toes, leaning into him.

Wrecker's grin grows wider when he sees what you're up to. He leans down a bit and meets you in the middle.

Your lips touch, and in an instant, small butterflies start to rise in your chest. Everything gets warm and you sigh a little bit before leaning in closer, putting your hands on his cold cheeks, and deepening the kiss.

Wrecker puts his strong arms around you and pulls you closer to his chest.

And while you're standing there, sharing sweet kisses, quiet whispers and shy smiles, you almost don't notice how the clouds thicken and the snow starts to fall again.

It definitely won't be the last snowman you'll build together.

TAGLIST:

@isthereanechoinhere96 @trixie2023

[fountainpenguin]

"Pretend to be sweet! Speak with a smile... Even if you're mad, play it cool for a while..." (x)

---

New Dog's Life chapter today! ~ 3rd Life series fan-season

Chapter 15 - “Scald (Ren, Jimmy, Scar)”

❤️ Read on AO3

💛 Start from Chapter 1

💚 More Pixels Imperfect fics

---

While Impulse prowls in search of Bdubs, life goes on. Ren, Joel, Jimmy, Tango, and Cleo get along in their respective spheres. And Scar? ... Well, since Etho never showed up for Session 2, Scar's teamed with a bunch of other explorers to tackle a cave adventure. With a group that large, it's only a matter of time before hunters turn on quarries...

(First 1,000 words under the cut)

---

Renthedog - Chicken

Quarry: ZombieCleo

Hunter: Smajor1995

Allegiance: Unaffiliated

💚  💛  ❤️

"Hey." Is that a weird thing to say to a guy you haven't seen since his particles dissolved? He looks better now, standing with his hands in his hoodie pockets. In traditional Joel fashion, he got a new outfit for Session 2. The hoodie's sky blue. Puffy pastel letters spell out Glitch Survivor down the front, surrounded by four hearts, several azaleas, and little sparkles.

Skizzleman stole the traits of Tropical Fish

Actually, the whole thing looks glittery. It's childish and goofy and he looks snug and content, like Ren didn't catch him staring at his reflection for a little too long while they changed in the shower house. Ren has questions (which will go unanswered) regarding what went on between Joel's boss and the skin designers in the community mere days ago.

Not that I'm one to talk. I'm going all-in on the farmer's aesthetic this time around. It just sort of happened to him. Honestly? Can't complain, dude. The flannel shirt is comfy, the jeans aren't so bad, and the whole vibe fits his familiar suspenders pretty well. He's half worried he'll overheat, so he keeps rolling the sleeves back to his elbows.

If he were to put it into words, he's playing into that vibe of all the world in chaos while he serves smiles and escapism in his pretty little garden. In fact, Ren gets up from the muck, taking out a handkerchief to wipe dirt form his hands, and walks over to join Joel by the fence. He leans against it. Joel tilts his head. He's got little panda ears.

"'Hey' yourself, Ren. Ooh, look at you working hard in the chaos game."

"Thanks, man. You're looking good on green again; nice, nice- A+ material."

Skizzleman stole the traits of Salmon

"Yeah, Grian kicked me back up since, y'know… the whole 'creeper glitch' wasn't meant to happen and I did get my proper quarry kill." Joel points two thumbs at the bubbly text across his chest. "He'd better watch his ruddy little backend, though, because I intend to hit purple before I see yellow again. This order is tall, but so am I." His eyes roam behind Ren, wandering the other side of the fence. His fingers tap together inside his hoodie pocket. "Got quite a bit of wheat there, haven't you?"

"Wheat?" He keeps his tone light and friendly, but repeats the word 'wheat' to make it undeniable what he's referring to. "Take a bit if you like; leave something if you want. It's my community garden. This, my friend, is a safe space." He glances left and right, then leans forward, dipping his voice. He even lifts one hand to catch his words, though no one seems to be around eavesdropping. "Seems to me like you're less likely to get sniped off if your would-be murderer knows you'll respawn a few blocks away to have your revenge! And lay waste to them completely where they stand!"

Joel lifts both brows, curious but flat-mouthed. "Eeeh… Not the most exciting content for you, is it? I mean… You could achieve the same thing by lurking near your base. Or plopping your bed down anytime you anticipate a fight, if you wanna be some sort of freak… Also, I'm pretty sure you can't strike your hunter back if you drop from green life to yellow? You're still yellow, right? That's a passive color."

bigbst4tz2 stole the traits of Creeper Skizzleman stole the traits of Turtle

"… Look, it's cool, okay? Spawn's cool." Ren gestures sideways, flapping the handkerchief. "I'm in my peaceful arc right now. Spawn shall be the most beautiful place to rest one's head!"

Joel looks around, skeptic impatience dancing on his lips. Spawn isn't technically a peninsula, but it stands on a raised, flat bit of land overlooking the rushing river. The wind's gusty up here, bamboo and jungle trees swishing. Ren's got his hidden chickens and pigs.

Thus far, his play session consists mostly of bartering with Scott and Skizz for the right to breed their sheep. They helped him lead the sheep back in return for the right to take two chickens, and the haughty stare in Scott's gaze warned Ren that he wouldn't hesitate to kill every animal in his underground hidey-hole, regardless of what killing so many and swapping traits that many times in a row would do to his stomach. He needs to move them. The Sushi Boys know where they are right now and that's not a good strat.

GoodTimesWithScar stole the traits of Enderman

"Peaceful, yeah," Joel says. He leans against the fencepost, cupping his cheek in one hand. Well, one panda paw. "Say… Any chance I could pull you away from your work for a couple hours, mate? Promise it'll be worth your while."

"Oh?"

"You got shovels?" Joel summons his own to his hand with a flick of the wrist. It's stone, unimpressive, but he taps it against the edge of the fence like it's made of netherite. "I'm thinking we go about digging up sand. It won't be a monopoly, but Grian always makes a grab at it, and I think yoinking it before he tries will be the best strat."

"… Seems like he'll come after you once he realizes you've got it."

"Hope he does. I want him-" Joel makes a shhhhluck! sound, gliding the shovel scoop across his own throat. "You get me? Come on; we'll make a game of it."

Ren frowns, one ear twitching like he's got a flea. He tries not to glance at the place he hid his animals, though that means jerking his eyes back to Joel as they start to drift sideways. "Well… It sounds like you might be luring me away for a bit of thievery-"

"Oh, like you've got better plans today. You and your smelly little farm, your smelly little livestock…"

So he's already aware of them. He's not trying to fake me out. Ren lifts his hands. "All right; you've convinced me. Let's have ourselves a dig, my friend." For the sake of content creation. For the sake of getting out of his own head, too… Apart from his visit to Scott and Skizz, he's pretty much been gardening all day long. He's got an inventory full of bread and a back-up chest to boot.

And I know I'm not his quarry…

[Full chapter on AO3 - Link at top]

[rightpastnowhere]

Zone of Truth with the twins? >:D

hurt/comfort spell ask meme

so... i know who you meant by "the twins"........ but since you didn't specify in words i am going to be mean >:D

ZONE OF TRUTH: You create a magical zone that guards against deception in a 15-foot-radius sphere centered on a point of your choice within range. Until the spell ends, a creature that enters the spell's area for the first time on a turn or starts its turn there must make a Charisma saving throw. On a failed save, a creature can't speak a deliberate lie while in the radius. You know whether each creature succeeds or fails on its saving throw.

An affected creature is aware of the spell and can thus avoid answering questions to which it would normally respond with a lie. Such creatures can be evasive in its answers as long as it remains within the boundaries of the truth.

also this prompt got way out of control whoopsie. i used this as a warm-up to get back into writing after my very long hiatus, so it's not my best, but i love the twins <3 so here you go!!!

~

It's dark.

Not dark enough to blind - he has darkvision to thank for that, enough elven blood passed down for that - but dark enough to obscure details, to mess with his sense of where he is. His hands are tied, but not his feet, so theoretically he could try to get up and flee, but-

A panicked whimper, small and quiet, from beside him reminds him why he can't just up and run. They'd taken Leona's glasses, smashing them under heel, and darkvision doesn't amount to shit when your vision's that bad.

"What are we gonna do?" Leona whispers, a shrill string of her voice threading through in her panic, and he doesn't want to snap but she's being too loud. "Mum and Dad don't know where we are, we don't know where we are, we don't know what they want-"

"It's okay, Leo," he hisses, not to scold but just to interrupt - he's switched into elvish, too, just in case none of them speak it. He wishes, more than ever, that he'd paid more attention in any of Mum's other language lessons. "They'll be able to find us. Mum can find anything, remember? Like when Egg dropped her necklace in the garden that one time?"

He can see Leo's eyes when she turns, and meets them as steadily as he can, even knowing that she can't see the details of his face from this close. "It's okay," he whispers again, as fierce and solid as he can. "We'll be okay."

The door to the room they're in opens, allowing a single woman to step through. She walks over slowly, heeled boots clicking on the floor; each click is in time with his heart until the latter picks up pace, gradually running out of sync until his pulse is in his ears.

Breathe. Calm down. In, hold, out. In, hold, out. Dad's voice in his head, Mum's hands on his shoulders, a memory of a panic attack curled between the bookshelves of the family library.

Wolfe is usually one of the first to panic with things like this. He hates to admit it, especially in comparison to his siblings, some older-brother instinct

Leona's hand, somehow having found its way into his, squeezes so tight he feels his knuckles roll together; it hurts, but just enough to ground him.

"Do you know why you're here?" the woman asks, her words scraped at the edges by rough-accented Common.

"Because you brought us here?" The words trip out unbidden, stumbling past his lips in a shaky mockery of his usual snark, and he almost winces. This isn't the time to act smart.

You might want to throw out some cheesy one-liner or whatever to act cool, but it's not worth the risk, his mother's voice chimes from a memory, the three oldest kids sitting in on interrogation training with the newest Grey Hunt recruits. It might seem like a way of keeping the power on your side, but it's just as likely to make your captors even angrier.

Lesson one failed.

Luckily, the woman doesn't rise to the bait; she just chuckles, stepping closer to crouch down in front of them both. He shifts his body best he can, trying to put himself between her and Leona, trying to shield her.

"How cute," she says, "but you know that's not what I meant."

Wolfe swallows thickly.

"You're little de Rolo brats, aren't 'ya?" The woman leans forward, and Wolfe fights the instinctive urge to cower away. "I bet you know alllll sorts of secret entrances and whatnot into the castle, right?"

Shit.

"We never used those," Leona croaks from behind him. "Guess you fucked up and got the wrong kids."

She still manages to sound smug and haughty, even with her voice wobbling with fear. He would be proud in any other circumstance, but now he just holds back a wince, meeting the woman's eyes best he can as she frowns.

"If that's how it's gonna be," she growls, sending a shiver down Wolfe's arms. He feels a mirrored shudder go through his sister, trembling in her hands like an echo.

Another figure steps in through the door, this one cloaked and their face obscured. They're carrying an old, thick tome, and Wolfe has spent enough time around magic users to recognize a spellbook when he sees one.

"I'd just beat the answer out of you," the woman says, far too casual for Wolfe's liking, "but we don't have that kind of time. Your parents will probably catch on soon. So."

The cloaked one begins to murmur under their breath, and Wolfe curls back, bracing himself for whatever is about to hit them. Leona goes tense, squeezing his hand again and burying her face against his shoulder.

He feels the magic as it hits him, but it doesn't hurt. It... it feels like something is pushing at his mind, in his mind, like a Message or a Sending but much, much stronger. Like pushing through a locked door. He thinks to brace himself, somehow, but before he can, the lock is broken, and magic floods through his head.

"Let's try this again." The woman leans closer, too close, he can smell her breath from here. "Do you know where the secret tunnels into the castle are?"

Wolfe tries to say No, with as much force and conviction as when he tried to convince Mum that he hadn't snuck out or that it was Leona who'd pranked the Curator. But when he opens his mouth, all that comes out is a choked, strangled sound.

He and Leona tense up at the same time. Zone of Truth.

The woman grins at their realization. "You kids are smart, I'll give'ya that. Now are you smart enough to stay alive?"

Half-truths, his father's voice reminds him, a sudden reminder of an old lesson. Mum had called him paranoid, and Dad had said he was just cautious. If staying silent is too much of a danger, try and get by on half-truths. Don't give away anything that you don't have to.

He scrambles to think of something to say, something that's just true enough to get by. He can't deny the existence of the secret passageways, and he can't say he's never used them... dammit, think think think-

He feels Leona pinch at his hand, breaking his train of thought. He resists the urge to snap at her, wondering what the hell she's getting at, when he remembers the scar that sits right under her thumb and forefinger.

The scar he got from climbing in their bedroom window - or, more specifically, from the tree just outside it that he'd hastily scrambled up to avoid being caught by the guards. The tree that he always climbed to get back in after sneaking out.

Gods, his sister is a fucking genius.

"I've never gotten into the castle using secret entrances," he says, confident and certain, locking eyes with the woman as her lip curls into a snarl. He thinks of his mother, every time Syldor has come to visit; he thinks of his father, every time someone questions the integrity of Whitestone.

He thinks of them both as they tell him, be brave.

The woman growls, and he does not flinch. She doesn't do anything, just turns to his sister, and somehow that is harder to stay strong in the face of.

"What about you?" the woman hisses. "You gonna be more useful to us?"

He feels Leona's hand tighten around his before she says, "I've never used them in my life."

Wolfe swallows down a shocked noise, because yes the fuck she has. Leona was the first one of the twins to discover them - she'd been tailing Vesper through the halls, and turned a corner to find their older sister had disappeared. Leona used them far more than Wolfe did, even if it was mostly for traveling within the castle than getting out of it.

But if she was able to say that, bold-faced, then... she must have resisted the spell. Leona, with the lowest constitution out of all of the family, managed to resist the spell.

Holy shit.

The woman snarls again, but turns her ire to the cloaked figure instead. "Did your stupid fucking spell even work?"

"I - I knew I felt it catch, but I..." The cloaked figure pulls out the spell book again and hastily flips through it, ripping at least one page along the way.

He never gets a chance to find it; there's two arrows through his neck before he can, and his book falls to the ground only a second before he does. The woman barely has a chance to draw the crude-looking axe from behind her back before the crack of a gun fills the air, and her head bursts into a bright-red spray. Wolfe cringes back instinctively, and covers his face with his arm as well, but that's more to spare his own eyes from the gorey details.

Footsteps rush into the room, and Wolfe feels a gentle hand on his cheek - his mother's, from the uneven pattern of leather-covered and bare fingers, a signature of her archery gloves - and lowers his arm at her frantic voice calling his name.

She's kneeling in front of him, with her other hand a mirror on Leona's face, and Wolfe smiles in relief. He feels tears prick at his eyes when she sweeps a thumb across his cheekbone. "Hi, Mum," he chokes out, his throat thick with a building sob.

Leona echoes him, sounding similarly fragile, and their mother's face crumples into a shaky smile, her own eyes welling up with tears. "Hello, darlings."

Dad runs up just behind her, looking even more fraught than when Gwen had gone missing with one of his guns. "Are you two alright? Are you hurt?" He falls to his knees beside Mum, and Wolfe winces, thinking of his bad knee.

"We're fine, Dad," Leona says, her voice a little stronger. "I just can't fucking see."

Wolfe surprises himself with how loud he laughs. Maybe it's the stress of the situation, but something about Leona taking advantage of being actually fucking kidnapped to swear in front of their parents without consequences - because he knows they're going to be too relieved to have them back to lecture her, of course they are - just fucking breaks him.

Then Mum starts laughing too, and Dad looks at her the most bewildered Wolfe's ever seen, and that just makes him laugh even louder.

[fangirlinglikeabus]

[..]a garden,—once stocked with such hard plants and flowers as could best brook the soil and climate, and such trees and shrubs as could best endure the gardener’s torturing shears, and most readily assume the shapes he chose to give them,—now, having been left so many years untilled and untrimmed, abandoned to the weeds and the grass, to the frost and the wind, the rain and the drought, it presented a very singular appearance indeed. The close green walls of privet, that had bordered the principal walk, were two-thirds withered away, and the rest grown beyond all reasonable bounds; the old boxwood swan, that sat beside the scraper, had lost its neck and half its body: the castellated towers of laurel in the middle of the garden, the gigantic warrior that stood on one side of the gateway, and the lion that guarded the other, were sprouted into such fantastic shapes as resembled nothing either in heaven or earth, or in the waters under the earth; but, to my young imagination, they presented all of them a goblinish appearance, that harmonised well with the ghostly legions and dark traditions our old nurse had told us respecting the haunted hall and its departed occupants.

so i did a fair bit of reading on garden symbolism for an essay i wrote on the yellow wallpaper last year, and - with the caveat that this was about colonial america, not england - one of the things that did firmly crop up was the garden as a site of patriarchal control. and just looking at the word torturing i wonder how exactly we're meant to read an overrun garden in this context. like on the one hand it was stocked with hard plants, appropriate to the climate, and on the other it also contained soft plants that would submit to and be shaped easily by a man's guiding hand. i'm certain there's a deliberate tension there. also relevant, i think, is the way the name of the house seems to reflect this unruly garden: wildfell. anyway, there's a decent amount of really fascinating stuff going on with nature in this novel which imo shows that anne bronte did have a clear capital-r-romantic influence even if she's usually shunted into a different category from her sisters, and i think it's worth paying attention to.

this is incidentally what stevie davies has to say on it in her notes:

the topiary details add a unique twist to the theme of recidivism played out both by Wildfell Hall and Wuthering Heights (see S. Davies, Emily Brontë (Harvester Wheatsheaf, etc., 1988), pp.130-54). Nature, 'tortured' to an art which represents nature (the boxwood swan, the lion) is in process of reverting to nature. However, swan and lion belong with laurel towers and fabricated warrior as armorial tributes to dynasty - a dynasty which has died out, subverted by nature. For Emily Brontë's mystery, Anne Brontë substitutes grotesquerie, in a chaotic vision in which human aspirations are in process of recrudescence, paralleling the disintegration in the ethical sphere of the novel: but the author fails to develop these implications.

[birch-bark-scribbles]

>.> Do tell me more about this "land greeting ritual" if you are comfortable ????

Sure thing 💚

The bones of my land greeting ritual is AODA's Sphere of Protection (SoP). The AODA uses it as a template, not a strictly scripted ritual, and that's how I approach it as well. If you're familiar with the Lesser Ritual of the Pentagram it's going to look marginally familiar. AODA started out as a Masonic group with Golden Dawn connections but has since moved on considerably from those roots... that's a topic for another time though.

I'm chosing to not share my specific language that I've crafted and am still refining, but I'll go over the broad strokes. I think that'll explain more than trying to explain the differences between the AODA's SoP and the LRP, or talking about all of the things one can do with the ritual, or anything like that. It's a very adaptable little ritual structure and I'm very fond of it for that reason.

I use no tools or ritual garb or anything like that; very "low church", to borrow a term. I have a couple versions of the ritual depending on how well I'm feeling. If I'm sick or depressed, or trying to do it subtly in public, I can do it sitting, just looking around the room and thinking through my script. (Advantage of a Protestant upbringing; I'm extremely good at silent prayer and visualization.) The full version involves standing in place for 5-7 minutes, or longer if I want to meditate right then. It involves some gesturing, and turning to face the four cardinal directions.

I start facing the east. I remind myself of where I am; a tiny dot on the face of a huge and ancient planet, hanging in an infinitely larger and older heaven, surrounded by the water and heat that make life possible. I hold my hands just out from my sides, palms up or out. The traditional version uses the shape of the cross and four elements, but that's not my jam. So I use the shape of the Awen symbol / | \ and the land / sea/ sky elemental triad instead.

Then I greet each direction in turn, starting with the east and facing each quarter in turn, ending in the north. Some versions greet the four classical elements in this way; for me the four element system is the least important correspondence at play here. For each direction, I trace the symbol for it in the air with my fingers, and greet the Gate of that direction with language that includes the color, plant, creature, and other symbolism I've developed or inherited for that quarter. I also greet by name the salient feature of the landscape literally in that direction from my home (three mountains and a lake!), as part of that greeting. I ask for the blessings of the spirits of the land in that direction and/ or do some energy work, and offer my thanks and respect to the same. This is the heart of the land greeting; I am acknowledging every part of the landscape around me in a systematic manner. I like doing this outside when I can. A few thoughts of note: AODA uses nonstandard symbols for air/east and earth/ north, I do not invoke any deities/ angels/ named spirits or anything like that in my personal version, and I don't generally do the traditional formal invoke and banish unless I'm in a formal setting as it's not really part of my personal paradigm.

Then I greet the three aspects of spirit in a very similar way: Spirit Above, Spirit Below, and once all six directions have been welcomed I invoke the Spirit Within (or Awen). My symbolism in this section parallels the elemental triad from the beginning. Finally, I conclude the ritual with a blessing on myself and the land around me. Traditionally, none of the aspects of Spirit are banished after being formally invoked.

When I do this outside I usually bring some kind of gift. If I do it on the deck I do it before watering my container garden; if I do it in the woods or at the overlook, I bring water, or a handful of oats, or nuts, or compost. Sometimes an apple or something else critter-appropriate.

Thanks for asking, I hope it was interesting!

[oumaheroes]

WIP

Digging through my folders found me this, a WIP I'd started for Cake's birtday before spiralling off into other ones. I had vague notions for it, and although I don't have plans to continue anytime soon it deserves to have a spot in my archives just in case I lose it again

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

‘Sorry, were you-?’

‘No no, go ahead.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Oh no, I shouldn’t have been there anyway. Just waiting for someone.’

‘Ah.’ Gabriel slides up to the coffee machine and sticks out his hand to the man he just moved, ‘Gabriel. Hello, by the way.’

‘Arthur.’

Arthur’s hands are rough. His handshake is firm, a solid squeeze of Gabriel’s fingers and a single jerk down that feels familiar in its assuredness. He knew someone who shook like that before, he thinks. Someone long, long ago.

‘Lovely to meet you.’

‘Likewise.’

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

‘So, how did it go?’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Your interview.’

‘Ah, that.’ Gabriel smiles and leans against the counter, ‘I’m surprised you remembered.’

Arthur shrugs dismissively but looks pleased, ‘Labouring, wasn’t it?’

‘Building, specifically.’ Gabriel looks out of the communal dining hall’s windows to the grassy flatlands beyond. Perfect location, perfect weather- there was a whole estate planned. Two men jog in the distance around the marked-out area, one thin one thick and both almost white blonde, and Gabriel watches the steady pump pump pump of their arms, ‘I wanted to try for site manager but I went for regular construction in the end.’

Arthur hesitates, ‘And?’

‘I got it. Start tomorrow.’

‘Congrats.’ Arthur does not do public displays of emotion. Gabriel has known him long enough to know this, and easily catches Arthur’s arm twitch as if to reach for him. It is over in a second and it stays safely where it is, crossed over his chest. ‘I said you had no reason to be nervous. They always need people.’

Gabriel laughs, ‘Yeah, I know.’

‘And you’re really good.’

‘Thanks, Art.’

‘What are you thanking me for? It’s true. Should have gone for the manager like I told you to.’

Gabriel snorts and looks down into his mug. Coffee still tastes the same, still wrong. ‘I don’t mind. All I really wanted has already happened.’

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

‘When did you decide to come to Earth?’ Gabriel’s hands are in the grass, knuckles curled down to the soil. It is hard and cool, the earth shaded by the tall, thick tree at his back, ‘Was it long?’

On his ladder, Arthur lets out a breath and looks up at the sky. ‘I don’t know. It feels like forever.’

 They are in his gardens, the ones he keeps just for fun. Outside of the crop fields and orchards which take up most of his time, as wide and long as they could go and lined with glittering greenhouses, Arthur is to be found here: small scrabbled patches of the beautifully useless. Green islands along the edges, filled with flowers that would poison, bushes that would not bear fruit. Things that were grown for the sake of it alone, plants which had no purpose other than to please. Done in his own time the colony leaders could not argue with him doing so.

Gabriel had a feeling that even if they did, Arthur wouldn’t listen.

‘We learnt about Earth at school.’ Arthur adds, returning to his work. He stretches his arms into the heart of the branches and continues to prune, ‘My planet isn’t all that far away in the grand scheme of the Diaspora. But I didn’t want to go truly until I was fifteen.’

‘What happened then?’

Arthur looks embarrassed. He touches the outdated e-tab he always keeps by his side, hung in a sling at his waist. ‘My home city sphere was quite large, enough so for a botanical garden. It was my first time seeing anything like this outside of a tab.’

‘Must have been nice.’

‘It was unlike anything I’d ever seen.’

Gabriel understands. Everyone on the colony does.

He shuts his eyes and breaths in deep and slow. The clouds and the leaves above create a sea of moving shadows across the inside of his eyelids, quick flashes of red like small fish. As the warm wind ruffles his hair, the start of his first ever real summer, Gabriel presses his back against the tree and lets his imagination go.

[laughingplant]

Improvement Blog

Heyy, I'm Brandy and I'm revamping this blog to use for a self-progress journey and the like I would love to make some friends with similar goals!

I plan to pretty much post a lot of my progress that I make and hopefully, if I have something I can use to really put out there, that it might help me stay on track.

For context, I am in my early 20s and want to focus on stuff like weight loss, stamina building, healthier eating, talk about teas I enjoy, upload examples of schedules/recipes I plan to follow, workout routines, journaling, and stuff of that nature. I plan to do some art stuff too but that'll be on my other side blog @laughingbrand just to keep the clutter down.

If anyone else is looking to start or has begun doing things like this, I'd love to make some friends in this sphere! Maybe just exchange tips, tricks, and things of that nature or just keep each other motivated through it all? Anything is cool with me lol. If I do end up following you, it would be through my main @brandywyne since I can't follow/send DM through alts for whatever reason (unless you send them first for some reason.)

This blog will pretty much be a mash of my self-improvement stuff, interior design inspo, and plants. A little of each to drown everything out. Maybe I should do gardening someday? Maybe lol. Anyway, that's all for now! Feel free to leave a like/reblog if you'd be interested in chatting or anything, I'm gonna try to get the ball rolling here lol.

[secretbloodloss]

Whumperless Whump Event—Day 4 

Chronic pain/massage/“I’m used it it” 

OC: Aryel’eso tsu’Mais  Story: Blood and Ice 

Etlin settled into the fine couch, trying to enjoy the sun on their good side and keep it away from the burns covering their other arm. It had been several years since they’d been at the castle and though little had changed, they were always surprised by the sheer scale of it all. Outside the window, the courtyard below contained an entire orchard, bushes of flowers filling in the space between the trees. The kitchens and armory and barn across the courtyard were each as large as Etlin’s entire house. And beyond the towering yellow stone wall, from this height they could see past Rubi to the forested mountainside stretching into the distance. They had left voluntarily, sure, but sometimes they missed the grandeur. The silk-covered couch cushions against their skin. The hovering spheres of light keeping every room free from shadows. The near-nightly feasts of fish and bread and fruit and sweets. But Etlin had not missed the whispers that spiraled through the halls, or the glances an old soldier like them earned from the perfectly coiffed nobility, and were glad when Aryel finally arrived, closing the sitting room door behind them. They were dressed simply, for a ruler. Even, Etlin noticed, more simply than they had a few years ago. Their skirt was only two-layered, their blouse half-covered with a buttoned vest instead of the more fashionably laced stays. Their typical multi-layered headscarf—which they had been fond of trimming in raindrop emeralds—was missing, replaced with their old soldier’s cap, made simply to cover the hair with no frills. Aryel’s smile at Etlin was warm and genuine, but it was quickly subsumed by a wince as they moved towards the couch. They walked gingerly, and their limp was more pronounced than it had been 5 years before. Etlin struggled to know where to point their eyes during the long wait for their friend to cross the room. Finally, Aryel settled down with a soft groan and swayed slightly again Etlin’s shoulder. They reached automatically to steady their friend, and had to shake away old images of Aryel, bloody and fainting, shot in the woods. That was passed now. The war was over. And yet... “We can talk later, if you’re unwell.” Etlin kept their hand on Aryel’s arm, and they didn’t pull away. Actually, they seemed to genuinely need the support. “It’s nothing. I’m used to it. Today is actually fairly good.” Etlin frowned. “Are you working too hard?”  Aryel chuckled, low and warm. “What, are you my parent now?”  Etlin was tempted to make a joke, something about have half-raised Aryel into who they were now anyway. But 30 years of friendship had given them a sense for what would be welcome when, and Aryel’s eyes had narrowed ever so slightly. Etlin backed off.  “I’m only concerned. You look a lot less well than the last time I saw you.”  “We’re both getting old, Etlin. It’s fine. Now, what exactly was important enough to show up unannounced after five years of silence?” Aryel stretched out their bad leg to one side with a half-audible grumble.  But Etlin wasn’t convinced yet. “Yes, we’re getting old. Which is why I retired. Years ago. And now I do things like garden and fish.”  “That’s not how I remember your retirement. Didn’t I have to threaten you with more responsibility until you decided some peace wouldn’t be that bad?”  “And you were right. For me and, perhaps, yourself?”  The sudden fire in Aryel’s eyes reminded Etlin why few people dared speak to them so boldly. “I don’t have that choice. Are you going to sit here all day telling me why I’m living my life wrong, or did you actually need something?”  Etlin decided not to point out that Akinta was old enough now to rule if Aryel would step back, or that older rulers before them had always let themselves rest and enjoy life while their advisors made decisions. It wouldn’t do any good, and with Aryel in this mood it might get them sent away before they could ask the questions they feared Aryel already wouldn’t want to hear.

@whumperless-whump-event

[joleneghoul]

explaining references in my art pieces for fun part 1 (idk if i will do part 2 since this is just for fun.) under cut.

I want to start with a disclaimer that a lot of my art is based on the crazy shit in my own mind but a lot of that is grounded in stuff that has actually happened in canon because i actually do enjoy older canon at times lol. also this is just relation to canon stuff mostly I wont explain my whole flower language shit here.

I have a personal event document for canon events that only really diverges once it gets to Judgement Day etc etc.

Going to start with my piece that I call "Ripley and The 52" in my folder which is I guess the piece where I finally just said fuck it and went crazy.

There are a couple references to general comics but also booster and rip's arc in 52 ofc because that's what this piece is about. No Ted doesn't die, but their arc still happens (but a bit different).

First I'll address my constant use of nature in these works because the reason I do this (other than my own love for floral and insects) is mentioned within this arc. We have Mr mind who is this bug who is eating the multiverse essentially which is explained like a pest in a garden- only the garden is all of time and space and the flowers are everyone and everything whose ever existed and all their knowledge.

Since Ted is alive for this arc (I have other reasons to explain why Booster is acting the way he is) he plays his own part, this is mostly tech backup for Rip and Booster (as he is RECENTLY retired) and less physical stuff.

Basically threes a lot of Ted vs hating magic stuff as well. Time is a balance of both science and magic, and the magic side pisses him off a lot especially since this is one of his first experiences trying to handle that balance in awhile (especially not when dealing with Waverider). these bits are in reference to Ted. anyways while he's alive I did feel like paying homage to one of my favorite bits of that canon arc. They still use the scarab to fix Skeets and save time as I always loved the explanation that when things go randomly missing without explanation in the DC universe (as the scarab did) it's time travels fault.

I also thought "hey what if this is when we retrofit The Bug to do time travel" bc im silly like that.

Also since this arc has a lot of Mr mind you know I had to include the menace, this piece probably is what made me fall in love with him as a character. It is so funny to have cosmic beef with a worm.

The falling apart clock is actually a reference to Waveriders (diff Waverider- BUT i think it's funny he dies in issue 27 when that's how old my Waverider was when he BECAME Waverider.) death in 52 which while fucked up I always found so fun that it took place in a clock store. also check out that tiny bite taken out of the decoration of the Time Sphere lol.

We also have Hyperfly and the trail of planets he is eating that The Bug is flying through. sorry i made Hyperfly cute. There is also skeets in this piece who isn't actually Skeets but Mr Mind inside of Skeets. This is later the creation of Macromia.

Also What would this arc be without the iconic Booster faking his own public death and making himself pissed off as the Serious Super-Nova. (placed two stars next to them because they're both booster)

I also just threw in some other references to their adventures and antagonists in this piece with Starro, Waverider (though they have a minor part in this story itself), and in the paisley on the time sphere we have references to Chronos.

Which finally brings me to the hints at Rip's connections to Ted which start in this piece where he has a augmented clone of the BB-Gun Ted always uses. This is also shown in the "Jeff/Rip broken time" piece i did where Both the gun AND papers are strewn around labeled KORD industries. Unfortunately the writing on the papers in the final piece are impossible to see. Then the "back to the future" Parody piece with Ted and Rip is a reference to the name of the arc that introduces Rip to bg vol 1 lol.

I also want to note that my Rip wields both this gun and his Sword. I will get more into the sword later probably with future art but the Sword is magic and the gun is science based, another fun reference to the balance of time.

Anyways the whole point of this piece is that time gets broken and its in part Rip and Jeff's fault because you can't make a time machine without breaking a few timelines. Also a broken clock rip was gifted by his grandfather is a reoccurring visual metaphor in the actual Time Masters 1990 comic.

Also I will point out the clock is broken in this piece and rip has a wound on his head in the same spot the clocks broken. something something hinting at something.

Speaking of Jeff and Rip there are also a few comic easter eggs in the "Breakfast at the end of time" piece too. Not too many, just a mug that says 86 (when bg vol 1 and teds solo came out), and a tabloid that talks about Superman being missing and Mr Mind.

In the big Jeff/Rip peice i recently did that shows snapshots of their life together there is a reference to Time-1, which is Rip's Car in Time Masters 1990 as well as them in cowboy gear together because the issue that's Jeff centric in that series is based in the wild west (though that happens a lot different in my shit).

I also threw in a reference to Rip losing his eye when he's older because why not.

Finally my most recent piece "Cosmic Gardens" I'll explain the references because its yet another jumble piece lol. First we have all of the main time masters at least the ones that have roles in cosmic gardens (which is what i call the time masters story I'm working on for fun). Jeff, Jack, Tony, and Bonnie (Corky not included sorry Corky). Skeets is also there just because.

There is also a callback to the 52 piece with the wing of Mr Mind's hyperfly form which calls to the creation of Macromia during that event. 52 takes place in this Rip's future but his fathers pasts.

It's more difficult to explain this piece without mentioning non-canon stuff since most of these characters (including older Ted and Booster) are post divergence of the canon, even if these events actually take PLACE during that canon (time travel is a bitch).

I'm not sure yet how much I'd like to share regarding Macromia and the time gardens (all knowledge of time and space) or how her, waverider, and beetles are all connected in a way but i guess the easiest way to put it is that they're all essential to the ecosystem of this unthinkable place that exists in between the riverbanks of time.

Ted's part in the Vanishing Point VS Macromia's part in the gardens, Waverider's desires VS Macromia's oath, The existence of Rip as a paradox since birth, etc etc.

And while all these characters would think they're completely different they aren't and where does the next generation fall when all of this is happening and affecting them.

Circling back to Ted before I end this post I do want to also bring attention to these tiny details across my pieces like how in the "Back to the future" Ted and Rip piece, the stream of time connects to Vanishing Point which relates directly to Ted (and Rip, but Ted has a large part on how the Vanishing Point functions tech wise after Brainiacs help etc etc). You'll also notice the house on there looks a little familiar if you have a keen eye for unimportant details.

anyways this was fun to do lol!

[triscribeaucollection]

Divided by Deception, But Together We Must Rise

( Posted here on AO3, latest in my What-If AU series. Because I clearly don’t have enough time travel fics yet... )

---

If he thinks hard, Cody can remember Kamino. Vaguely. The white walls, at least, and the deep, muffled roar of rain coming down hard on the windows. Sometimes a half-there sense of needing to do better, be better, or else something terrible would happen; but whenever that feeling swells, he just needs to find a Jedi and it washes away again, cold water replaced by warm light. It never really matters which Jedi, either, just- someone wrapped in the Force, who can spread it out a little, with a soft smile and an easy touch.

The Knights rotate every couple of months, some going out into the galaxy to help people, others coming back to rest and center themselves once more. There are a few older Masters who don’t actually leave the planet, but move between the three Holdfasts where Cody and all his siblings live. More Jedi live at the Temple of Peace, up on top of the mountain, including the actual Force-sensitive younglings and Initiates - batches of them come down a couple times each tenday, to play with friends or train on the Holdfast obstacle courses.

When Cody and the rest of the clones finish growing up, it’ll be their job to protect the Temple, and all the Jedi inside it. On Kamino, they were supposed to become soldiers, trained for war and battle. Here, instead, they’re learning diplomacy and negotiation as well as combat, so that they won’t just serve the Jedi but truly work with them.

It could have been quite different, some of the Masters say, if we had not found you when we did.

---

When a Jedi dies, there is a ripple in the Force. A mark of their passing.

When thousands of Jedi die within moments of each other, betrayed and horrified and so many of them crying out, those ripples become a tidal wave.

Time is linear. The Force is not. Two unknown Jedi meet, and warm to each other in a moment, cheered by the future echoes of the friendship that is to come. A Knight discovers a youngling, and there is joy, comfort, a Padawan bond not yet made announcing its presence.

Time is linear. The Force is not. Death, pain, misery - these things linger in place, the Dark Side refusing to let go, instilling cold and wariness in all who tread the same spot years later. Anger leaves a stain; deadly rage even more-so.

Time is linear. The Force is not.

---

None of the clones are more than three years old when nearly two hundred Jedi Knights and Masters descend upon Kamino. They don’t stay long enough to turn four.

---

There are stirrings of discontent in the Senate, whispers of secession. Politicians focus on their spheres of influence, either to further fan those flames or put them out, intent upon the future of the Republic.

No one notices the Jedi Temple slowly quieting.

By the time they do, by the point that enough calls fail to be answered that a Senator visits in person, the entire Order is gone. From the oldest Master to the youngest crecheling; the refectories and training halls, the numerous gardens and the vast Archives, the Healing Halls and private quarters; all gone. All empty. Equipment moved, vegetation potted and carried off, personal belongings vanished. Not a single Jedi remains, nor any clue as to where they went.

Newly-elected Supreme Chancellor Palpatine dies mere days later.

Two shocks, back to back, and of course the conspiracy theories immediately take flight. Could the Jedi have prevented the assassination, if they’d still been on Coruscant? Had they left because they foresaw the Chancellor’s demise, and wished to avoid the political nightmare that arose afterward? Were they perhaps involved in the freak speeder collision that resulted in his gruesome death?

No one knows for certain. But that hardly keeps them from gossiping all hours of the day, at least until the next scandal: Mas Amedda caught trying to blackmail votes for his ascension to Chancellor, and another Senator revealed to be bribing her way into power, raising hue and cry from all factions of government. Some planetary systems take the opportunity to announce their secession from the Republic entirely, several corporate entities all too happy to support them, and Coruscant becomes an even bigger mess than usual.

---

Elsewhere in the galaxy, ten thousand Jedi and one million clones settle upon their new home. An old Temple restored, new Holdfasts built around it. A few mercenaries who were meant to be combat trainers accompany them; other instructors are found through careful searching, sentients who enjoy putting together lessons on mathematics, reading comprehension, art and science and music.

The Jedi are never completely without friends, after all. And many of those friends, relieved to be allowed to know of the Order’s relocation, are all too happy to provide whatever help they can for the move, as well as what comes after.

---

“Hi, Obi-wan!” Cody drops from the climbing wall and lands in a roll, popping back up with a wide grin. “Oh- and hello, Senator.”

“Just Bail is fine, Cody,” the Alderaani man chuckles. “I’m hardly on duty at the moment, after all. How high up were you, just now?”

“Only a few meters, before I dropped. But I was coming back down! You should’ve seen me all the way at the top, a minute ago.”

Obi-wan hums, glancing up towards the bells situated at the highest point of the wall, even as another cadet reaches them and rings one gleefully. “Very impressive. I wonder, though, if you might be willing to take a break and provide us with some assistance?”

Automatically, Cody straightens up and lifts his chin. “Of course!”

It turns out not to be too terribly impressive - not a mission, or anything dangerous. Senator Bail needs to speak to Master Windu about an ongoing project, but none of the Jedi up at the Temple knew for certain where he’d gone, besides ‘down to Holdfast-One’. Still, Cody gets to put his command skills to work, nabbing all the nearest groups of brothers and directing them to spread out in a search grid. Soon enough a trio comes racing back, eager to report they found Windu, asleep with half a dozen of the littlest cadets in the lower garden.

Obi-wan and Bail aren’t all that willing to wake the older Jedi up, insisting they can wait for him to emerge on his own. So, instead, Cody does his level best to coax them into joining him and his batchmates for a round on the obstacle course. It turns into a hilarious afternoon, Obi-wan setting aside some of his natural grace to try and help Bail along the rolling-logs, only for both of them to slip and fall in the mud underneath. Fox laughs himself silly, so of course Cody trips him into the same pit, only for Wolffe to shout and tackle Cody, and then Ponds jumps in and it all turns to chaos in seconds.

When Master Windu eventually turns up with a toddler still dozing on his shoulder, he does not look impressed by thirty-odd cadets and half as many Jedi Initiates absolutely covered in mud, Bail and Obi-wan standing right in the middle with perfectly serene expressions on their faces.

But then Master Windu looks straight at Cody, and says calmly, “I do hope you were able to shove a handful of mud down Master Kenobi’s tunics, cadet,” and everything explodes a second time.

---

If he thinks hard, Cody can remember Kamino.

He doesn’t bother very often.

[reneesbooks]

a little jarthur for sunday morning

*claws out of my own grave* the students haven't killed me yet. here's the first coherent thing i've written in literal weeks

A rap at Arthur’s window makes him look up from his notes. He see’s Jack’s beaming smile through the crack of the shutters and throws them open, leaning on his elbows on the sill. “You know you’re not supposed to be here.”

“That’s what makes it fun.” Jack’s smile grows impossibly brighter. “It’s the coronation today.”

“I know.”

“Everyone’s invited.”

Arthur raises an eyebrow. “Even street rats and orphans like us?”

“As long as you don’t announce yourself as such.” Jack offers him a hand. “Come with me?”

Arthur glances over his shoulder at his bedroom door. The nuns won’t expect him until dinner; he has plenty of time to get back before they’ll notice he’s gone. He turns back to Jack and takes his hand, smiling back at him. “You’re going to get me in so much trouble.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

They blend into the crowds streaming towards the castle gates and Arthur cranes his neck to see as much of the gardens as possible as they are herded down the main path by the royal guard. The great hall is even bigger than he’d imagined, the chandeliers sparkling with light that dances across the walls. He and Jack climb the stairs up to the balcony around the perimeter of the room and jostle their way to the front, leaning against the railing. From this point, they can see the nobility snacking on pastries and the priest pacing back and forth on the dais, ordering around altar girls and snapping at servants. Next to the ornately carved wooden throne stands a scowling soldier in a deep purple cloak, his piercing green eyes scanning the crowds continuously.

“That’s Keelan O’Leyne,” Jack whispers to him, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Have you heard the songs?”

Arthur shrugs. “The nuns have mentioned him once or twice. They don’t seem to be a fan.”

“They wouldn’t be.” Jack strings his fingers through his hair, his eyes taking on an admiring quality that makes Arthur’s chest ache. “He’s dangerous and violent.” He sighs a little dreamily. “He’d probably cut my tongue out within ten minutes of meeting me.”

“It’s weird that you sound like you want him to.”

“Can you blame me?” Jack gestures at him, Arthur rakes his gaze over the knight again, admitting to himself that he is quite handsome. He would be more so without the deep scowl on his face. “Anyway, he’s famous for how he escaped the massacre of his village by slaughtering the twelve thieves that burned it down. He’s been the princess’s sworn shield since. I heard a rumor that he threatened to cut out the tongue of anyone who used her name in his presence.”

Arthur shivers. “No wonder the nuns don’t like him.”

The crowd hushes and the priest begins to chant. The doors at the end of the great hall swing open and Arthur cranes his neck as the princess steps into the room, floating down the aisle in a gown of blue silk. There is a black mourning stripe down the back. Jack whistles loudly and Arthur sees Keelan O’Leyne’s head whip in their direction, green eyes narrow with cold, calculated anger. Arthur hopes he isn’t able to tell which of them whistled and elbows Jack in the side. “You’re going to get your wish about meeting Keelan O’Leyne if you keep that up. It’s inappropriate.”

“I don’t care about the princess’s beauty, though it is great,” Jack says, his eyes still locked on where she’s advancing slowly down the aisle while the priest chants. “O’Leyne can have her. I’m looking at those jewels on her head and around her pretty neck.”

Arthur looks again, focusing on the crown and necklaces that she’s wearing. The necklace is three strands of jewels twisted together—rubies, pearls, and sapphires shaped into perfect spheres resting on her collarbone. The golden crown has been worked into the shape of flowers, the metal nearly blending into the princess’s braided hair. As she reaches the dais and turns to face the crowd, he gets a better view of it. The jeweled flowers glint in the light, more rubies and sapphires and pearls than Arthur has ever seen in his life set into the intricately wrought metal. He remembers from his reading that the crown jewels were made by the first queen of Raedora and placed on her head by her magical students. There were old stories, buried in the backs of his books, that they once served as powerful magical conduits for the moons.

“Long live Queen Maura of Raedora, blessed by rivers and moons!”

The room erupts in cheers and Arthur gets caught up in it, the shouting crowd around him and the carefree grin on Jack’s face. He could stay in this moment forever, the two of them anonymous in the crowd, not a gutter rat and an orphan but just two kids attending the coronation like everyone else.

Jack turns to him with that wide grin and says over the cheers, “I’m going to steal the crown jewels.”

Arthur laughs, perfect and unburdened. “Sure you are, Jack.”

“Oh, I am.” His eyes are full of plans and mirth and more plans. “And you’re going to help me.”

thieves of morbhard taglist (ask to be added <3): @k–havok @theharpywrites @allianaavelinjackson @oh-no-another-idea