#robin comes by only to turn into a statue when a bird lands in her hair

[chickensoupleg]

AU where Steve casually has an animal rescue in his house.

I mean, it's empty 95% of the time, right? Parents are rarely home, likely couldn't care what Steve does in his off time.

His off time involves his ever persistent large family dreams.

His children are just not exactly the most human-est of things.

Starts out when he's little, still under the care of a nanny. He finds a frog hiding in a bush, and as any young kid does picks it up and brings it in. His nanny wasn't having it, but for the few hours he did have a frog in his 6 year old hands it wasn't all that bad. Kissing its little froggy head wasn't the best idea though.

Still, frog sparked way more joy than anything else in his life, so he continues to do it. Whatever creature he finds, if he can't steal it he'll just take a gander and continue on his way. He also gets the wonderful education of what animals he can and can't be taking off Indiana wood grounds to hold ransom in his massive, empty house. Thanks to the power of cold hard cash he manages to turn a guest room into some sort of animal holding area, which for a long while was just small animals like snails or more frogs. A lot of insects too.

The first time he actually turns his home into a 'I have a collection of critters' into a 'I am a child-sized vet' was when he got ahold of Rutabaga. Rutabaga, which is actually short for Ruthless Bag of Spite, was a cat little 11 year old Steve found on a walk. Cat's been clearly living on the streets for a while, ragged and limping. Tail's been mauled by something, the dried blood still flaked on the end. Steve, bless him, tried to take Rutabaga home.

Steve had to treat multiple scratches on his way home that day.

Still, he didn't give up, determined to help this ball of scraps. He set out food and water for Rutabaga, put his clothes outside so the cat would smell him and recognize him as the Sustenance Giver (He remembers someone saying how their cat loved to sit on their laundry), and just waited as patiently as a little kid could possibly try.

He manages to capture Rutabaga a few weeks later, giving the cat a good scrub down and his best attempt at cleaning the tail. He got more scratches for his troubles, but he has a cat now. He did have to take him (He found out it was a him) to an actual vet though since he was worried when his tail got all yucky.

His first success only spurs him on, and he just kept housing animals and healing them as best as he can. He gets better over time, even though it takes him ages to get through books, but it's a process of hands on learning as well.

Steve never talks about it either, and as far as anyone else knew, Steve has a cat with half a tail and a locked room he never lets anyone in.

The first time anyone realizes is when Dustin walked into his house only to find Steve hand feeding a baby bird. Had to explain that he's been doing this since forever, Dustin is both offended Steve never told him and also teases him to high heavens about how he really is a mom.

Dustin finding out drags every one of his kids into it, with varying interest on his hobby. They even end up trusting him with their pets for safe-keeping, or whatever creature they scoop up from wherever. Steve takes them all in, and if its supposed to be wild he does his best to make sure they stay wild, no matter what Dustin says about having a cool pet raccoon or how cute the squirrel El brought in.

Every time Dustin brings anything remotely lizard-like Steve has to make sure he didn't bring another baby Demogorgon into his home. Dustin is NOT allowed to have another cat get eaten.

Steve has funerals for every animal that doesn't make it, so he has some sort of rock formation in his backyard. They look random yet intentional, and even though none of them have names Steve knows who was buried where.

[middleinthenight21]

Damirae week 2020- Day 5

Soulmates

The first time the ink shadow appeared on her skin, she thought that perhaps the person she was intended for would be intelligent and, profound. She looks at herself in the mirror counting her tattoos as if they were part of a collection, indistinguishable doodles were still being imprinted on her skin. The one that stood out most was the chain formed by insects, animals and plants around her ankle there was a sheep, a horse, a takin, a long line of animals unknown.

She sits giving her ankle a better look, the ink is delicate, the strokes are not clean, there are abundant small cuts, as if someone had drawn them on paper and was looking for the correct line. Her skin is swollen, red, and the figures protrude, burn in the dermis, and she has to suppress a growl when they form by pricking the skin.

What is most striking is the small fruits that are colored, there are some seeds that are repeated on more than one occasion. She had tried to stop the blood from leaving the tattoo, but it accumulated in the center. It bleeds so much that her skin is stained forever in red, it hurts with the cold and exposure to the sun, but she realizes that it may be the favorite of the person or being who is her soulmate, since it is the only thing colored. She hates when those seeds appear because she knows it will hurt.

Back then, she's just a little girl who has a quiet existence in another dimension. She does not have much to worry about, Raven watches the monks, they are all adults and already have tattoos on their bodies. When she contemplates Kardeleen adjusting her robe to cover her neck and torso, since they are rude, and the woman is looking forward to her meeting her soulmate. Sometimes that happens, as her mother explained, soul mates are not always good, so you shouldn't be determined to look for him.

Raven can live without feeling the pain of when a new tattoo appears, she would live happily without those red seeds on her skin, but she is also just a lonely girl, after all she is the only child in one dimension and is forced to live with adults. who are not interested in playing, maybe her soulmate is also small?

If only they would stop considering those seeds important ...

She is not so excited to find her soul mate, but she likes to think that there is also someone who is in the same stage, maybe also human, since those animals seem terrestrial, although she had tried to find answers, she found nothing.

She gave up when her mother shrugged when she showed her a small part of the tattoo.

She found nothing on red seeds.

It would be complex.

She turned the page, frustrated. Her mother gives her an angry look, the sound of the page was not loud enough to be heard in the distance, but she had made a mistake and cringed instead.

They are in the temple of Tacita, the spirit of silence, for a hundred years they have not opened a single window, so the air is scarce and there is a permanent smell of being locked up. She is not supposed to be here, but she liked the silence and her mother comes to confess in front of the goddess in whispers that Raven cannot understand, she supposes that it is because the goddess knows how to keep secrets.

Raven remains kneeling on the floor next to her mother trying to focus on the prayer. The white robe wraps her shoulders and falls free to the ground, it looks like a cloud. The incense is lit inside the temple, it is like a thick and smelly mist. She wrinkles her nose.

She stares at Tacita, the statue looms in the middle of the place, she has a blindfold over her eyes and cooked lips. The monks had explained that it was because she did not care who it was or what you will tell, she would keep you the secret.

Now she looks at her mother who has her eyes closed, her mouth opens and closes murmuring prayers, she looks distressed. It gives her a feeling that there is something breaking her heart, something she will never tell her.

The rains blessed the lands of Azar this morning, the monks had taken refuge in the temples, but her mother had grasped her hand by guiding her towards the temple of Tacita.

There is Anu, the spirit of the skies, that crosses the sky. Enlil, the storm and the wind, and many others. But her favorite is Damkina, mother spirit of the underworld, protector, and giver of strength who anticipates when danger approaches. She empathizes with the spirit because unlike other spirits she is represented surrounded by strange creatures. The marginalized and desperate, the spirit did not despise anyone, she feels that she is someone who would understand her, in addition to having beautiful wings, reminding her of a bird. In front of them, Tacita seems like a bland spirit, but her mother found something special, like a connection.

Staying focused on prayer was difficult. Usually her abilities would overwhelm her, and she would be more interested in Adil's mind projecting images into dimensions she had visited, monks challenging her, and she would start again. She prefers silence, it is easier for her to focus on the meditation and instructions of the monks, but she cannot bear the silence of the temple of Tacita.

She hears a small sound, it is like a light whistle and she thinks that maybe it is his imagination, but he repeats himself and thinks that it could be a bird. She looks askance at her mother as she remains submerged in her prayer, walking away on tiptoe in search of the foreign sound. She knows that her mother will not react well when she realizes that she cannot find where she is, but she only wants to know where the bird is.

Her hands tremble hesitantly to open the door, it's like a fight of wills, but it would only be for a few minutes and Raven is not made to obey, at least not entirely. She opened the door.

When she leaves the temple, fresh, cold air fills her lungs; the rain is light, like a soft curtain, and runs along the pillars. She follows the bird's song, there is a stir in the air, and she feels she has a purpose in her hands.

She finds the little bird under a box where the monks wrote their requests, it is immersed in the paper, like a nest. The animal is small and chubby, its chest protrudes like a balloon, it is wet and trembles with cold. Its souls are brown, but its chest has a nice red hue, it is like armor. Raven thinks that makes him prouder, like a warrior.

When he sees her, he flaps his wings, wanting to escape, but he can't. She is afraid, animals do not usually approach Raven, they flee every time they see her in the distance, and it is disappointing, but this bird is vulnerable.

"Easy." She tries to be gentle. "I will not harm you."

The bird shuddered at her voice, leaped around the box with its feet, and the papers were removed. Poor creature, he's just scared and, won't stop shaking and is completely wet from the rain.

She catches it gently in her hands and the animal struggles to free himself but relaxes as she wraps it around her robe. His head sticks out, she wraps around him like it's a baby, like mother wraps around her when she was scared at night.

"Now you can be sure," she says. The little bird looks her in the eye, Raven strokes his head with the pad of her index finger, the feathers are soft to the touch, and she smiles when the bird closes his eyes. "We are friends now", she says.

She gets excited at the idea of ​​having a friend. She looks down at her tattoo around her ankle, she feels a little more connected with her soul mate; Maybe if they ever meet. She would presume that they have a pet bird.

She smiles at the irony of being called Raven and having a pet bird.

Perhaps Anu, the great spirit, would be proud of her for caring for an animal that resides in her dwelling. Anu would give her his blessing, the monks would be so strict and fearful around her.

She feels a prick of pain, it is as if a needle will penetrate her skin and is located under her armpit, dangerously close to the heart. Her first tattoo had hurt, she acquired them at the age of five when she was learning to access magic, her ankle was swollen for a week suffering, they added a new animal, when a new red seed appeared she knew it was going to bleed until the her skin was permanently red and her mother would grasps her hand with a blank look. Arella doesn't like it when a new tattoo appears, she doesn't like soul mates.

This time the pain is as if it will cut her skin, she feels that she is being hurt and tears appear in her eyes. She leans against a pillar, tears spill on her robe, while pain bites and she continue to caress the bird, reminding herself of her friend.

This is not a tattoo, as if they were forcibly marking her and they will not care what method they use. She feels like she is filled with sadness, she doesn't know anything about soul mates and how they work, but she is distressed; The pain is not hers, the physical of what is imprinting on her skin mixes with the psychological.

The little bird sings around the blanket and thinks it is accompanying her and knows the pain and offers her beautiful song to alleviate suffering.

"Raven, why did you leave? Don't ever ... "

Her mother kneels noticing her tears, the little bird pressed against her chest and the grimace that appears on her face when she is crying. Arella caresses her daughter, asks her why she is crying, Raven can hardly think, the pain is hot needles in her chest and the blood begins to fall to her hips in drops.

She was cry "It hurts, mom. "

Her face takes on an expression of concern "Where? Did you hurt yourself? "

She shakes her head and cannot continue speaking because she shudders in pain, so she shows her. She raises her robe to show her and her mother gasps, takes her in her arms and goes down the stairs with her daughter in her arms.

Raven thinks of the bird.

"Will you stay with the Robin?"

That is the name of the little bird. He is a Robin.

***

When the monks look at her mark, they advise her not to show it to anyone. They are talking to everyone, she learns that it is not a tattoo, but a writing formed by a cut; it is not natural.

When it heals and Raven reads, she promises that no one will see her. Never.

"Here is your legacy, here is your inheritance. You were born for this, "she cut into her skin.

Tattoos no longer exist, only phrases through cuts.

***

When he was ordered to climb the Mountains, Damian knows he must be the first and the fastest to reach the top; his mother and Ra´s Al Ghul stood waiting for him to climb the first rocks, although they do not say anything, he is aware that they are evaluating him, measuring the places where he must lean and push himself. He tries to ignore criticism and move up, as best her can.

The mountains are rocky, rugged, with extremely hostile weather. When his hand reaches a stone that is wet, the snow melts under his palms and doesn't feel his fingers, but either way it continues to rise. He is not the grandchild of Ra´s Al Ghul for nothing.

Sweat freezes on his forehead, the drop remains intact and his teeth chatter from the cold. A part of him wishes they had done it in the summer when the sun would only be a concern, or in the spring when the snakes and animals are in the mating stage, they would attack it for invading their territory, however, he still preferred it to the harsh winter and Snowfall on the rocks, but he must be prepared for everything.

He feels the rocks, giving them small blows to check if they are safe, he rests all the weight on his legs so as not to tire his arms.

He is starting to feel tired.

"This is your legacy, your inheritance," he recalls his grandfather's words. He uses them as a breath; each breath is like swallowing sharp ice that hurt his throat and he discovers that he can sweat in the cold. "This is my legacy, my ... "

His fingers tremble and he can barely breathe without pain. He doesn't feel his toes through his shoes, the garter uniform is light, leaving him vulnerable and unprotected in the cold and he wants warmth, even if it's to wear gloves.

You have disappointed me, he listens to his mother's voice, it is deep and penetrates his insides, You are not worthy to be the Leader of the League of Shadows. You are not my son.

His fingers cling to the sharp, frozen surface of a rock. The fatigue was already beginning to hit him, and the wind sweeps his body, it blows from the East bringing drops of frozen water, which stick into his face. He must have been more than a hundred meters above sea level.

He has to continue advancing, but a desperate scream comes out of his mouth when his legs slip on the slippery surface and he is suspended in the air; his only support is his hands.

He must continue to ascend.

You are not my blood; his grandfather would say. He would look at him out of the corner of his eye, not caring if he wouldn't matter, like scum.

He cannot allow it.

A snowflake descends slowly from the sky, it is ethereal and delicate, from another world. It seems to him something beautiful in a world of battles, fights and blood; also, worthless, empty.

What use was beauty if he did not free the world from evil?

The snowflake is unflappable, as in another state. As he descends it catches the rays of the sun and looks away, this does not matter.

Then, the flake lands on his left hand and burns, he had never experienced pain like that, it is as if it was not something superficial, but concentrates inside and struggles to explode to the outside.

Damian growls.

A million thoughts go through his mind, it could be a cold burn, a cut, a tendon rupture, a ...

You are weak…

"I am not, grandfather."

His feet find new places to lean, he bites his lips drawing blood and continues to climb, ignoring the pain.

When he reaches the top, he looks at the landscape; Hundreds of mountains, clouds hitting the rock, and birds roamed the skies and the air is pure, but scarce. With all the harshness of the landscape, exhaustion and pain in his hand, he still allows himself to admire the view.

He understands why he had been trained since the age of four to climb these mountains, reaching the top is always difficult, there is no support and if he fell, he would get more than a broken hand, but reaching the top is always a privilege.

This is the world that his grandfather wants to change, it gives him a better look at what they are going to build.

He looks at his hand, there is a stain, it is like a gray shadow and it hurts when the skin is stretched. He scrapes his skin away from the color, he even thinks of cutting his skin thinking about what it could be.

The Al Ghul do not have soul mate tattoos, and he was no different. There is no value in being attached to another person, simply by destiny.

The brand is concentrated and there is a small bird on his skin, it is light and, would not be noticed under the correct light. Damian Al Ghul, the grandson of the demon's head is unmarked, so he makes the cut before it is fully developed.

***

When they meet, they are different people, Raven is not the student and ward of the monks of Azarath and the purpose of Damian's birth does not exist, as does the legacy and inheritance they promised him.

They have both seen the worst, life has constantly hit them and tattoos are mere marks on their skin, Raven does not feel that someone would have felt the same, even if she did, having a soul mate would be a luxury that better people can afford. No, the girl who destroyed an entire world, not the daughter of a demon that became a heroine. It’s not for her, she does not seek personal satisfaction, she only wants to prevent an innocent world from ending in the same fate as Azarath. She has no right to a soulmate, but she did find friends who are family. She is happy with them; she does not need anything else.

Damian Wayne had a privileged childhood, he was taught to fight, and he had a duty, he is the son of the best detective in the world and the deadliest woman on the planet, grandson of a hero. He lost all those things, he thought he was going to miss them and he would suffer, but he discovered he is his own human being, that everyone has a plan for him and nobody once asked him if he wants to become the head of the devil or an altruistic hero. His soulmate did not ask him either if he wants to be part of her life. He is not his father who has affairs with the worst women he meets whenever he goes, he is not Nightwing who has been involved in turbulent relationships and sighs for the only one he has come to love, Damian Wayne is not pathetic.

When he steps into the Tower, he is angry and frustrated, because he is tired of trying to show that he deserves to be taken into account. That his father treats him as if he had no value and relegates him insignificant tasks and when he did not know what to do with him, he sent him with the Teen Titans like he made a mistake.

When Raven saw him, she didn't want him to come close, but she recognized that expression and knows how hostile people can be when they have suffered. Everything was clearer after healing him, practically bringing him back to life for his stupidity and a "Thank you" is not enough. But this person's head is chaos, the worst thing is that she can understand it and she was wrong when she established a connection with Robin. When he confesses that she has also seen his mind, everything is clear.

This boy, Damian Wayne is her soulmate, it seems an irony of his life to be so tragic, full of manipulation, harshness and indoctrination. It was like reliving the worst places in his life. He does not think the same, he defends his lifestyle, but deep down the two recognize the truth. Raven would say that her father destroyed her existence and tried to use her, at least for himself, but Damian Wayne did not.

Raven doesn't want him around.

Damian Wayne knows that she is hiding something.

Neither of them controls their life, so at the end of the mission they think differently about each other.

They cannot walk away.

[damianwaynerocks]

Damian’s Journal - Why I’m Not Allowed to Work With Mystery Incorporated Anymore Even Though I Was Completely Justified in my Actions

 Bruce, on the advice of Dinah Lance, is forcing Damian to start a journal. This series is just that, his journal entries.

This entry is about Damian Wayne meeting the Scooby-Doo gang

Word Count: 1592

A/N: Yo, this is a crack fic. Enjoy.

Masterlist

__

Dear Journal (Not a diary)

So, hello, I guess. My name is Damian Wayne. Grayson, my older brother, suggested I start writing a journal. Of course, I strongly objected to this, however after talking to Dinah Lance, Father agreed that it would help with my 'trauma.'

I'm not allowed to go back and edit this so if there are spelling errors, my apologies.

So I suppose my first entry will be about the mayhem that happened with Mystery Incorporated.

We'd heard reports of reports of a group of people sneaking around Wayne Enterprises so of course we had to check it out. Father didn't want me to go because 'you have homework damian' but Wayne Enterprises is MY birthright so?? Of course I had to go??

I followed Father and Grayson carefully and because I am me, Damian Wayne, they didn't notice me behind them. I caught up to them right as they had surrounded the group of teenagers and surprisingly there was?? No fighting??

Apparently they knew each other??

"Batman!" a boy with blonde hair and an atrocious-looking ascot around his neck yelled.

Seriously who wears ascots anymore?? Pennyworth would faint if he saw that.

Father narrowed his eyes. "Fred," he grunted, "And the rest of you. What are you doing in Gotham this time?"

"Somebody's been dressing up as a vampire and scaring people away from Wayne Enterprises at night," a girl in an orange sweater replied, "So we were checking it out. You seriously didn't know about this?"

"I've had my hands full."

By having his hands full, Father meant going off-world to deal with some space threat because of course Hal Jordan couldn't handle it on his own. The imbecile.

I was away, also, on a mission with my best friend, Jon. He's alright I suppose. Annoyingly positive, but alright. He eats vegan burgers with me, at least.

Grayson had been in Bludhaven so we had entrusted Todd to watch Gotham but of course he missed something as significant as a threat to Wayne Enterprises?? I decided I would have a talk with him whenever he returned.

It was then I saw him.

My body buzzed with excitement. It was a dog.

And then it happened.

THE DOG TALKED.

THIS IS NOT A DRILL, I REPEAT, THE DOG  T A L K E D

"Reah, we were helping!" the dog barked gleefully.

I screamed in excitement and fell off the lamp post I had been holding on to.

I couldn't help it, and you couldn't have helped it either if you saw it.

Everybody looked at me.

"Robin," Batman growled, "I told you to stay behind!"

"Yeah, Robin, you had an essay to do!" Grayson agreed.

"How do you expect me to focus on an essay whenever there is a talking dog!?" I demanded as I walked to the hound.

The dog narrowed his eyes. "Rog? Where?"

"Like, hi Robin," a lanky boy who looked like he lived off marijuana and those ridiculous memes that Drake loved greeted, "This is Scooby-Doo."

"Hello Scooby-Doo it is an honor to meet you I am so excited," I babbled as I scratched him behind his ears. I usually would not act like such a child but. This is a talking dog.

"Come back with us to the Bat Cave," Father said to Ascot-Guy, who must be their team leader which is a terrible decision in my opinion because?? An ASCOT?? In 2020??

So anyways, we then went back to the Cave after blindfolding the group because there was no way we were trusting a team who entrusted their safety to an ascot-wearing buffoon to know the location of the Cave.

Father drove their vehicle, a van that looked like it was painted while lanky-guy smoked marijuana, to the Cave while Grayson rode in the Bat Mobile and I drove my Red Bird.

We got to the Cave and I instantly hopped off my motorcycle and threw open the back of the van where the dog was and enveloped him in a hug. "Let's go, Scooby-Doo, I can show you my sword collection!" I said excitedly before Father rested a hand on my shoulder.

"No time, Robin," he said, "We need a plan on how to catch this vampire."

"Oh, we have a plan," Ascot said with a wave of his hand, "Velma, Daphne and I are going to put a trip-wire down which will drop a barrel on top of him, and then we'll rush forward with chains and tie him up."

"How will you get him to fall for the trip-wire?" Grayson asked.

"Well, we'll use Shaggy and Scooby as bait, of course."

I saw red. I was shaking in fury. They were going to use?? The DOG?? As BAIT????? They were going to put the DOG IN DANGER???

Not on my watch, no sir.

"Absolutely not!" I exploded, "You are not going to put that dog in danger!! What is wrong with you, you ascot-wearing oaf!! I should call the police on you right this instant for animal cruelty!!"

Ascot blinked and took a step back. "S-Sorry Robin, it's just tradition!"

"No way!" Marijuana Man said, "I agree with the scary one! Kind of. Like, no police, but Scooby and I do not want to be bait!"

"Oh no, you can be bait," I said.

"Oh, come on guys!" Orange Girl urged, "I'll give you a Scooby Snack!"

"Scooby Snack!?" Scooby barked, "Roh boy! Rive me on of rose!"

"Like, oh boy, oh boy!" Marijuana Ma- Shaggy, agreed.

My eyes widened. "You would put your beloved friend in danger for a dog biscuit!?"

"Like, try one, kid!" Shaggy said, handing him a biscuit. I scrunched my nose at it but bit into it anyways.

When I tell you that it was the most amazing thing that has ever graced my tastebuds, I mean it.

It tasted like the feeling of working with Richard. It tasted like heaven. It tasted like the feeling of defeating a bad guy. It tasted like the feeling of saving an innocent. It was better than even Pennyworth's cooking.

Of course, I couldn't let them know that, though.

"Give me that!" I snapped, ripping the box from her hand, "I will be confiscating this."

Really, though, I just wanted it for myself and to give to Pennyworth so he could hopefully find some on Amazon.

"I will be bait instead of Scooby-Doo," I declared, "Because clearly you people care more about food than safety."

"Robin, you do know that being bait requires you to act scared, right?" Grayson asked gently. I scoffed.

"Of course it does, and I can act scared!"

I meant it, too. I would just pretend I was watching that Hereditary movie that I went and saw with Todd.

Or that time I walked in on Drake and Brown having coitus in the Bat Cave.

That is the real trauma I need to write in this journal for. Growing up with assassins? Forget it. Dying? No big deal. Seeing Drake's genitals? I will be needing years of therapy for that.

So that's how I ended up outside my inheritance building with Shaggy. I was dressed in civilians clothes with sunglasses to hide my identity.

"Like, you know only weird people wear sunglasses in the dark, right?" Shaggy said, taking a bite of a hotdog he had pulled out of nowhere.

"Incorrect," I disagreed, "My brother happens to say that only cool people wear sunglasses in the dark."

"If you say so."

We were loitering outside the building and I was bored.

"Do you smoke marijuana?" I asked bluntly. Shaggy choked on his hotdog.

"Like, no?"

I opened my mouth to argue with him before we heard a screech. I looked up and saw a poor costume of a vampire coming towards us.

Shaggy screamed and started to run and, picturing Drake's thing in my mind, I screamed and ran after him, through the double doors of the building.

We hopped over the trip-wire, and skidded to a halt in front of the stairs. The vampire was running towards us but gave a weird yelp whenever it tripped.

At that moment, a barrel fell from the ceiling and landed on the creature. Ascot-Man and Grayson jumped out of the shadows, tying the creature up in chains.

"Ah ha!" A lady with red hair- Daphne, I think -yelled victoriously. "Not so scary now, are ya?"

Velma followed her out of the shadows, Father close behind. Velma took off the vampire mask, and revealed- my English teacher??

I wasn't really shocked, though. He was a Trump supporter.

Velma rattled off obvious reasons why he was in Wayne Enterprises and apparently he just?? Wanted into the safe??

There's so many more easier ways to do that than dressing up as a vampire??

So that was that. Kind of. We tied the guy up, calling Gordon, and left and went back to the Bat Cave where we saw Scooby-Doo sleeping on top of the dinosaur.

Scoobysaurous Rex perked up as he heard us come in, and his tongue lolled as he ran down the tail of the statue and jumped into Shaggy's arms.

Father congratulated them but me?? I absolutely did not.

I once again gave them an earful about how irresponsible they were to put Scooby-Doo in danger.

"If I find out you have done that again I will personally have your liver on a platter-"

Grayson interrupted me with a nervous laugh. "He's just kidding!! He'll just send you a strongly worded email!!"

I glared at him before turning back to Ascot-Man. "And another thing!! An ascot!! In 2020!! What is wrong with you!?" I tore it off of his neck and huffed, "There, now you look slightly less idiotic."

And then Father sent me to my room.

So yeah that's what happened there. I've been keeping tabs on them and so far I have seen no sign of them putting the dog in danger.

Good riddance. Because I would have indeed sent them a strongly worded email as well as the liver thing.

- Damian

[roraruu]

wip: step into the darkness

Marianne is seven when her parents begin to act strange around. She remembers it all so clearly, as if a sculptor had etched it into her mind with a pick and hammer.

It is just a few days before the Red Wolf Moon’s death, and three days before her birthday. Their little cottage in the woods of a distant part of Leicester begin to grow colder, as if the winds from Faerghus are blowing directly in upon their home.

Her mother, whom her father says is her mirror image, hurries about the small, cold cottage. Not in her usual way that looks hurried, but in reality is quite calm and measured. From her spot in the living room, by the warm fire, she watches as her mother traces the kitchen quickly, her apron wading in the cold air.

She opens her mouth to speak, but she knows much better than to open it. Something inside her—a voice, an instinct perhaps—tells her not to. Her lips shut as she sits on the rug and stares into the fire. The book of fairytales and legends at her feet, which her father had promised to read her when he got back, stares up at her, begging to be read.

He promised that the trip would only be a few days, not much longer than two. He promised that he would come back with game. He promised, with his darkened eyes and deep voice, that he’d carve her a wooden figure of Seiros with his own two hands for her birthday.

She remembers the curl in his lip when he said the goddess’s name. Like it was burning him alive: sear-rows. A child remembers disgust clearly.

It’s been five days. Her father isn’t back, and her mother is beginning to let her worry show.

Marianne has seen this happen before. Back when she was only four. Her father went missing for three days, out into the woods, and when he came back, it was on the arm of a green-haired knight of Seiros. He had slept in bed for days, couldn’t look at anyone or anything; and he was sick.

And when Marianne had the courage to ask her mother what was wrong with her father, she had only said her father had taken ill.

That was always the excuse: Papa is ill. Father is sickly today. It is best not to bother Papa; he is ill.

Always a reason to leave him be. Some days she felt like she was being spectated upon. She would catch that look in his eyes sometimes: like he didn’t recognize Marianne or her mother; or like he was sorry for them.

The cottage feels cold, though it is snug and the fire is burning hot. Her Mother eventually calls her into the kitchen for dinner—Gautier stew. One of the neighbours brought some cheese and fowl. They always do when Papa disappears.

Mother says it’s just what good neighbours do, but Marianne can’t help but feel that they do it out of pity.

***

Another day passes without father. The cock crows for the dawn and Marianne wakes. Snow blankets outside, for their little cottage is incredibly close to Faerghus.

She’s been sleeping in the same bed as her mother since her father left. It happens often. Having another body in the bed brings her Mother a little sense of comfort, a little safety. And while Marianne is young, she knows the look of woe and sadness well, for her mother wears it often.

Her mother is only 28, but she looks as though she’s past middle age sometimes. Usually when her father is missing she looks like that; but when Marianne’s father is about, she looks so young, like a young girl, who is much too young to have a child of seven years.

Her father however, always looks gruff and tired, like an old billy goat. His dark hair spills out over his face, and a beard that grows in around his chin. Dark eyes too, not quite beady like a goat’s, but more like the ocean that they can see from the top of the church hill. The sea always looks black in the winter.

Her mother wakes before her, gently stirs her once, twice, for there is not a cruel bone in that woman’s body. Some around here say that she is a true daughter of Seiros, kind and just. Others say that she is like an angel from another land.

Marianne doesn’t know which to believe.

They say their morning prayers to the Goddess from the side of the straw bed. Holiness, religion, was born right into Marianne. Her Mother was a sister of Seiros, who served at the monastery in the heart of Fódlan. She doesn’t talk much about those days, she doesn’t talk much about herself. But what she does not speak of herself, she makes it up with talk of the Goddess and her saints and Seiros. Before bed, her mother tells her stories of Saint Macuil, Saint Indech, Saint Cichol and his daughter Cethleann, and of course, Saint Seiros. She speaks of them with such passion, such brightness, that her eyes sparkle as she talks.

Sometimes, if the mood is correct, and if her Mother is willing, she will sing to Marianne. She has the sweetness of all the honey in the land and the tone of the finest songbirds in her voice. She could have been a songstress, easily, yet she is a sister of the faith, a humble cleric. And Marianne isn’t sure why, but she is sure that her Mother has the finest voice in all of Fódlan. But she understands why her Mother is called Silque; for her voice is as smooth and as rich as the fabric.

Prayers pass in silence, both praying for the return of Silque’s lover and Marianne’s father.

They dress and Marianne sits still as her mother combs her hair and braids it into a crown about her head. While she works, she hums. Somedays, they’re happy songs. Other days they are mourning songs. Today it is just a melody from a lullaby that she sang to Marianne when she was just a babe.

(She always sings that when her father is missing. It is a comfort to the both of them.)

They share breakfast; day-old bread and cheese, tea for Silque, milk for Marianne. Marianne eats everything while Silque only prods her food. Marianne does not say anything, knowing that any reproach would upset her mother further. Instead, Silque stares out the window, her eyes searching the snowy hillside for the familiar look of her lover and her child’s father.

Before the sun has even risen, they are out the door and walking up the hillside to the church at the top. There, Marianne’s mother works while the little girl watches or sits out back.

As they walk up the hill, they can see the queue of sick that that lines outside the church; Silque’s patients for the day. She breathes a sigh as she enters the church. Marianne sits in the pews, listening to the hacking coughs and sneezes of the sick.

This has been her life for the last few years. When father is around, she will stay with him and sit while he works. He is a carpenter; building many houses in the area, cribs, bassinets, bed frames, tables and chairs, dressers, armoires and desks; most everything is crafted by his rough hands. And when the bandits get bad, he is a military leader.

Marianne remembers seeing the glinting gold of a helmet and armour, the lush reds and blues of a cape long since worn; the silks of a bishop’s gown and the markings of Seiros upon them. She does not know now, but in ten years’ time, she will come to understand that her parents were not just a carpenter and a cleric, but a bishop and a bow knight in former lives, ones long since forgotten.

The orphans of the church don’t speak to her much. She keeps to herself, reading her old book of fairytales or praying like her Mother would. Sometimes she helps with washing clothes and sewing, other days she does not. One of the children asks what she wants for her birthday—her Mother has said she is going to be eight in two days’s time. She lies and says that she wants a new book from town.

In truth, she only wants her father to come home, and her mother to smile without forcing it.

At lunch, Marianne’s mother allows her to go outside and play. “But,” her soft voice rings out with a sense of sternness. “Do not go past the courtyard. I need to be able to see you.”

“Yes Mother.” She promises. She shrugs on her cloak and steps out the back of the church. She paces the little courtyard a few times, watching as birds and squirrels come to visit her.

She sits down in the snow, her blue dress circling about her. As her father taught her, with his old horse, she stays as still as a statue. Her eyelashes don’t even flutter after she’s shut them. To the observer, she looks as though she is a young princess, with an air of regality and serenity that only the bluest of blood can attain.

The sounds of the nearby forest grow louder. She can hear cardinals cry out, some robins who are looking for food. The rattle of an annoyed chipmunk, the crunch of snow.

She stays like that for a while. Then, slowly, she opens her eyes. In the snow before her is a little bird with a soft coat. She doesn’t dare move, but instead flutters her lashes in a hello.

It greets her back. Why are you still here?

My mother is working in the church.

You need to move little miss.

Why so? Marianne asks, slowly moving her eyes up and around the courtyard.

Something is coming. Can you not feel it?

The air has grown colder. It becomes a little harder to breathe. She turns her head and the bird does not move. I can. She tells it.

Is it a wolf?

No, it’s far more sinister. The woods are clear.

The trees rustle. Then as she turns her body, the bird flies away, calling for her to take cover.

From the dark of the woods, Marianne sees a monster stare back at her. Slowly, it moves closer, it’s nose heaving out breaths as she stays stock still.

In her mind she tries to speak to the monster, her hands curling around her winter cloak. She stares at the beast, taking in it’s dark scales and sharp fangs, it’s claws that could cut her to bits.

Quietly, as if the world has gone silent, she hears it speak.

Fear the beast inside of you Marianne.

Her eyes widen in horror and she stops breathing, fainting in the snow. When she wakes, the beast is gone and she is left shaking. She catches her breath, looking wildly around her for the monster who warned her. Then she begins to worry; what is the beast inside? Of her? Is there a monster underneath her skin.

She steadies her wobbly legs and then returns inside the church. Marianne does not tell her mother of the monster in the courtyard. She remains silent, instead watching as her mother takes patient after patient, never once growing angry or tired.

Someone gives them a bit of fish for dinner, as thanks to Silque for her healing. She promises to make two fish stew with it when they get home.

***

There’s a crash outside the cottage. Silque sits up. Then the door opens. Marianne feels her mother move in the bed. She hears the ancient words on her tongue as she begins to recite spells. Marianne pulls the blankets closer to her, up against her willowy frame as she watches her mother etch out of the room and into the main atrium of the house.

Her mother’s shoulders sag, as if relief has finally weighed down upon her shoulders. Her hands drop to her sides as the sounds of boots against wooden floors grows louder.

“I’m home, Silque.”

Marianne knows that voice. She stumbles out of bed, watching as her father stands stock still. Her mother holds him tight, sobbing prayers to the goddess that he has finally returned home.

And when Marianne catches his eyes, she sees the monster from the forest.

***

Marianne is tucked back into her parents’ bed. She knows that she will not sleep in her own bed tonight; nor will her parents use theirs. They will stay up talking like they always do when he comes home after a long time away.

She lays in their bed and hears the bits of their conversation over and over again.

“Was it your...”

“Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“You cannot control it, why should you be?”

“It’s her birthday soon, you two must have been worried.”

“We were not losing sleep... Or that much.”

“Has she... been acting strange?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean Silque.” She can hear his voice loud and clear. Her father has never been a quiet man. “Is she showin’ the signs?”

“Of... Of Maurice?”

“Yeah. Suppose I mean him.”

Marianne sits up in bed, she swings her legs over the side and lets her feet meet the ground. Through the crack of the door, she can see her parents sitting at the hearth. Her mother reaches for his face.

“She carries my blood after all.”

“Do not treat it as a curse. She will not die—“

“You can’t know for sure, Silque.”

“I know Seiros’s gospel like the backs of my hands. She never said that Maurice was damned.

“Only that he is the Beast and hated by everyone.”

Marianne takes a step back. The floorboards creak loudly. She sees her father’s head turn to the door, staring at her through the crack. In his eyes, she sees the beast that stared at her in the woods. Her heart stops and she back barrels into the bed, climbing inside and pulling the quilt to her neck.

She clasps her hands together, and falls asleep praying to Seiros.

***

Silque clings to her lover tightly, as if he will disappear before her very eyes. She would rather die than let that happen again.

She does not see the look of terror in Marianne’s eyes. Instead, she looks up at her lover, who has been gone for upwards of a week. She breathes a prayer to the goddess before he sidesteps past her and kneels before their daughter.

“Have you been good for Ma, kid?” He asks.

Silque cannot think of anything aside from the fact that he is home. Before she knows it, Marianne is tucked back into bed and they sit before the burning hearth. She prepares him a meal and readies hot water to clean him. His face is marked bloody with brushes from the bush and dirt and soot.

It pains her to not know where he has been.

“Was it your...” She cannot finish the word. He doesn’t speak the name of it at all. The Crest of Maurice, the Crest of the Beast.

He nods. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“You cannot control it, why should you be?”

“It’s her birthday soon, you two must have been worried.” He says. He can’t bring himself to look at her.

“We were not losing sleep...” Silque lies, the sin weighing on her stomach. She turns to the little bowl of hot water. “Or that much.”

“Has she been actin’ strange?”

Silque stares at him. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean, Silque.” His eyes meet hers. Suddenly, it’s very clear that there is a beast beneath the surface of his skin. “Is she showin’ the signs?”

“Of... Of Maurice?”

“Yeah. That bastard. She carries my blood after all.”

Silque reaches for his face, her dropping the cloth into the bowl. She holds the frame of his face in her cracked hands. “Do not treat it as a curse. She will not die—“

His gaze sears hers. “You can’t know for sure, Silque.”

“I know Seiros’s gospel like the backs of my hands. She never said that Maurice was damned.” Silque pleads.

“Only that he is the Beast and hated by everyone.”

The creak of floorboards turns his head. Silque ignores it. Their little cottage is old, and the sound of settling is well-known to her. She has heard it so many time when she laid awake in bed, waiting for him to return home.

“He is not hated by me.” Silque assures her lover.

He blinks slowly as she swallows. “Who housed you this time? Was it a do gooder or the woods?” She tries to make a lighthearted joke. “It looks like you made a home in a rosebush, darling.”

“Lukas housed me again, sweetness.”

Her eyes lift to his. There are dark circles below his eyes, bags from a lack of sleep. She turns to get the cloth and dips it into the water and rings it out once, twice before brushing it against his dirty cheek.

“I should ensure to thank him with some kind prayers and fruit preserves.”

“Certain he’d like that.” He says holding his gaze.

“Did he...” The words will not leave her tongue at first. She steels herself, then forces it out like the smiles she’s been forcing since he disappeared. “Did he see you as a beast?”

He scoffs a little bit before dipping his head in a nod. He sighs. “He found me while he was on a hunting trip in his county. Called me out of it with your song.”

Any frustration and anger washes away from Silque with those last three words. She blushes a little, turning her cheek as she dips the cloth into the water. “I am glad it still brings you peace.”

“It’s because it reminds me of you.”

She burns as red as the fire and turns back to him to wash away the dirt and cuts. She could use her white magic on him, but a little selfish part of her likes to use first aid. There’s a tenderness in it. A softness that makes her heart warm and makes her blush; it dulls the ache and sadness that has follow her since he left.

“I should hope so. It is what brought us together after all.”

He shuts his eyes for a second and nods, as if revelling in the memory. She won’t lie to anyone, most of all herself: she thinks of it often. Of when she was only a sister in the monastery, where she stood in the Cathedral light and sang a song of her own composition, her own lyrics and her own heart.

When she heard him call out from the shadows, and when she took her first step into the darkness.

“Lukas’s lands are far north. Near the coast. How did you make it so far?” She finds herself asking as she cleans his face.

The silence between them speaks volumes. He must have blacked out and forgotten until Lukas brought him to with her song. The sweetness in her heart begins to bitter, eating at her core as she looks down to his hands and stares at the cuts and bruises upon them.

“The Beast took over.” He says at last. “Couldn’t stop it.”

“I see.”

“Somedays I think it would be better if I just got the Crest removed. Paid someone in the Empire to take it out of my blood or whatever they do.” He mumbles. “If they can put them in, they should be able to remove them, yeah? It shouldn’t be that—”

“I could not bear to lose you my love.”

He meets her gaze. Her eyes begin to water with tears. She realizes that it has been almost an hour since they began talking, an hour since they sent Marianne to bed with both her parents, an hour since he came home.

“Still. You shouldn’t have to put up with this bullshit.”

“I am not putting up with anything. Your Crest is apart of you, and I would not have you remove it, even if there was no threat at all.” She leans a little closer to him. He reaches out slowly to touch her cheek. She melts into his palm.  “You are my only love, Python.”

He lifts his gaze to her. Slowly, Silque draws closer to steal a kiss, pulling herself into his lap. Python’s head meets the crook of her shoulder. His heat begins to warm her cold body.

“You certain she ain’t showin’ anything? No fits, no starts? No anger? Wanderin’?” His voice reverberates throughout her body, shaking to her core.

“Nothing, Python. I swear she isn’t.” She whispers in a solemn promise. “She is the survivour of the curse. She is exempt, saved from it, by Sothis’s grace.”

And for a moment, Python believes his lover’s fallacies, her blind devotion, her bittersweet promises.

[sugarysweetsprites]

ALL THIRTY OF MY ENTRIES FOR FAKEATHON 2020 COMPILED BELOW THE CUT

ROUND 1: HOMETOWN MONUMONK - Derived from monument, monk

did you know I like maybe four miles away from a field of 109 identical 7 foot corn statues

FAKEATHON ROUND 2: THE USA ROBINOX - Derived from robin, autumnal equinox

Round one was our hometown, and I did my current city. But my childhood belongs to Connecticut, so I wanted to do a connecticuter. The american robin is the state bird of Connecticut, and as a part of New England it has a colonial history, hence the style. A type of garnet is the state gemstone, hence the species name.

Mostly though, I associate Connecticut with the vibrant autumns. The falls of New England are magic.

FAKEATHON DAY 3: CANADA CURTLE - Derived from curling, turtle

Very simple this one. Canada has a lot of curling events, right? Put the CURLING STONE. On the TURTLE. and you get the CURTLE. Dudes in this other server I’m in really love this one

FAKEATHON DAY 4: MEXICO CASOLURO - Derived from first two letters of the cards it’s based on; el CAtrin, el SOl, la LUna, la ROsa

A very fun one to work on. These are based on those Loteria cards - Specifically, the sun, moon, rose, and the dandy. The 4x4 grid on the inside of its cape is a reference to the 4x4 grid of a loteria play mat. Just threw crap at the wall here and got this funky friend.

FAKEATHON DAY 5: BRAZIL CAPYERA, CAPOBARA - Derived from capoeira, capybara

Not new designs, so much as designs I really needed to give another go. Much happier with these. And frankly, couldn’t think of a concept more wholly Brazilian short of slapping the flag on them.

FAKEATHON DAY 6: FRANCE CHÈVAÇAY - Derived from chèvre (French for goat), Chevalier (French for knight), valençay (French variety of cheese)

F🥐R🎨A🍷N🚬C🥖H

I stole the grease type from someone in that fakemon server it fit this cheesy boy too well

FAKEATHON DAY 7: SPAIN POMEGRIA - Derived from pomegranate, bandurria

Typically tried to avoid the lady-in-dress motif, but felt too justified here. Spain is home to pomegranates, with the blossom being the national flower. The body shape was inspired by the instrument the bandurria, with the base of the body being a halved pomegranate, and her “earrings” being both the tuning pegs and pomegranate seeds.

FAKEATHON DAY 8: UNITED KINGDOM MEMORI - Derived from memento mori, memory

I could’ve uh. Had this idea at a better time huh :^)

FAKEATHON DAY 9: ITALY MEDITIVE - Derived from Mediterranean, olive

Tried going more off-the-wall, but it didn’t quite work. Based on olive branches clearly - olive oil was often used as lamp oil, hence the fire typing. I meant for it to resemble a nuns habit or monastery robes, a la Italy’s heavy catholicism, with the floating olive leaf circlet as a halo. It was… good ideas that didn’t come together perfectly. Probably my least favorite of the lot

FAKEATHON DAY 10: NORDICS MINKJAVIC - Derived from mink, Reykjavik

Look when I think Iceland I always think black metal. This is the second time I’ve done a heavy metal pokemon. The first one was more badass. This one’s instead uh A lot : )

FAKEATHON DAY 11: EGYPT DJEDLY - Derived from Djed, deadly

One of the easiest to draw for… obvious reasons. Based on a canopic jar, sort of like an off-brand yamask or cofagrigus. It’s meant to open up twice; If you take off the lid, you see the fleshy eyeball dude in the lower corner. And if you pull that like a handle, you see what’s inside… and die with that knowledge : )

FAKEATHON DAY 12: ETHIOPIA CAFFIEND - Derived from caffeine, fiend

Obviously hyenas live in Ethiopa. But moreover, Ethiopia is also known as pretty much the birthplace of coffee, and coffee drinking/making is important to the culture. So I thought, why not make a hyena that’s super happy cause it’s always super hyped up on caffeine? Dunno if the electric typing makes much sense, I just thought caffeine = energy = electricity

FAKEATHON DAY 13: MADAGASCAR TENROCK - Derived from tenrec, rock

Tenrecs are endemic, yeah, but this wasn’t just based on a native animal. It was based on the land of Madagascar - specifically, the gorgeous and incredibly sharp structures of Tsingy de Bemaraha National Park. I’ll post a photo above the art, when I saw Madagascar was a theme day I knew I had to base something on that park.

FAKEATHON DAY 14: SAUDI ARABIA MASQAREEN - Derived from masquerade, Qareen

This is based on the Islamic idea of the Qareen. People don’t 100% agree on what Qareens are, but they are consistantly considered to be spiritual doubles - Every person has a Qareen associated with they’re spirit. This is based on one idea, them as dark spirits who attempt to lead their companion-spirit astray. I chose them because even though they’re evil from the start - hence the dark typing - they can become good based on their companion - in this case, trainer’s - actions and whims.

Since they’re counterparts to humans, I thought having them mimic humans would be fitting. It’s body is ALMOST humanoid, it’s many pink extremeties ALMOST resemble clothes. It would be a zoroark like situation, where it could make illusions to resemble human.

FAKEATHON DAY 15: RUSSIA MATEESHKA - Derived from mastryoshka, tea SAMOSHKA - Derived from samovar, matryoshka

Fun fact, I actually used to collect matryoshka dolls. Have a whole box of them in the basement somewhere. So I felt I had to. I have a thing for designs that look a little snobby, Samoshka certainly fits that little niche of mine : D

FAKEATHON DAY 16: INDIA BOVIQUIN - Derived from bovine, palanquin

I like ride pokemon, and I like customizable pokemon. So I made one that’s both! It’s supposed to be based on the water buffalo. The simple colors are because it’s supposed to be customizable - As in, the fabrics hung from it (and maybe the markings painted on it) could be swapped out, so I wanted something simple as a base. Sort of like Furfrou, but the customization doesn’t wear off

FAKEATHON DAY 17: CHINA LONGRUSH - Derived from Long (chinese for dragon), brush, rush

I expect here will be a lot of chinese dragons this round, I wanted to avoid the obvious. But… this is one of the best concepts I’ve ever come up with. The second I had the mental image, I knew that was it

FAKEATHON DAY 18: JAPAN SPIROUS - Derived from spirit, cirrus, pious

This is a myth from both China and Japan, but I associate it with yokai primarily. This is based on Hangonkō, incense that brings forth the spirits of the dead. Hence it’s body obscured by the clouds - It’s literally being summoned by the incense it carries. In retrospect, this could have been an interesting pokeball mimic with different colors.

FAKEATHON DAY 19: INDONESIA WHALEEN - Derived from baleen whale

The Philippines are home to the coral triangle, a stretch of ocean  that’s home to a stupidly large amount of coral life. So I initially  wanted a coral mon… but it’s known for its reefs. So why not make the  whole reef?  

FAKEATHON DAY 20: AUSTRALIA OPALINE - Derived from opal, mine

One town in Australia I’ve loved since middle school is Coober Pedy. Known as the opal capital of the world, it’s a desert town that’s so hot, almost all the residents live in houses carved into the ground. Even many businesses and hotels are underground! Coloring was fun on this dude :3

FAKEATHON DAY 21: ANTARCTICA SOUTHAIR - derived from south, hairgrass.

I wanted to do something unexpected. So rather than do that obvious penguin or similar, I went with southern hairgrass, the south most flowering plant. Did it’s closer meant to loosely resemble any wet clothes, but since there are no Inuit populations to Antarctica, only loosely. It’s species, the 1000-to-1 pokemon, Refers to both its chances of survival and the fact of the body is comprised of many many blades of grass

FAKEATHON DAY 22: SOMEWHERE HOT - DEATH VALLEY HELINDRA - Derived from helios, indra

The reason I chose the Indra butterfly is because it's native to death valley. I figure, if death valley gets HELLA sun, why not instead of it living in spite of the harsh sun, living so well because of it?

FAKEATHON DAY 23: SOMEWHERE COLD - GREENLAND STUFFIN - Derived from storm, stun, puffin

I know there are myths that say puffins can bring thunderstorms, so I thought why not turn a puffin into a storm cloud? But uh. It kind of just. Is a puffin isn't it :/

FAKEATHON DAY 24: ANCIENT CIVILIZATIONS KYTHURA - Derived from Antikythera, Urania

One of my favorite remnants of ancient times is the Antikythera Mechanism. It was an ancient Greek computer. With proper gears and mechanics and everything, that was used to plot the locations of the planets and the stars in stunning detail. This first go around turned out… not that great, I’ll be honest. But I wanna do something with the Antikythera Mechanism. It shouldn’t take TOO much tweaking to make this something I love

FAKEATHON DAY 25: FUTURE WORLDS COCOWATT - Derived from coconut, watt

One of my favorite images of the future is, instead of all streets having street lights, some having bioluminescent trees! I wanted to make something to that effect. Even though we have Exeggutor I chose palm trees cause they already have a street-lamp-like shape. Finally got to bust out my super neon pencils :3

FAKEATHON DAY 26: RANDOM COUNTRY - IRELAND AMANEELIE - Derived from amanita, unseelie

I have irish blood, so I wanted to do an irish mon. I took the idea of the fairie ring in a weird direction - when it extends its arms and the little purple "hands" touch, anything in the loop of its arm - the fairie's ring - will become hideously poisoned. Visually referenced the deathcap. Just like imagining these things in a secluded dense forest, floating along like swimming jellyfish

FAKEATHON DAY 27: THE OLYMPICS SYNCRA - Derived from synchronized, tetra

This is similar to wishiwashi, in that it's a schooling mon. But instead of it having a schooling form, it's ALWAYS in a school of five fish, constantly swimming in unison. Clearly based on synchronized swimming, I wanted the tails to be super long, so they'd flow all elegantly when they maneuver around. Kinda... power rangers in execution, innit

FAKEATHON DAY 28: THE OCEAN EXPLORB - Derived from explore, orb

The idea to turn the bathysphere into a pufferfish-like dude just came together really clearly in my head. I imagine their attack would be terrible but their defence would be amazing - basically, they aren't out to fight, they just wanna explore the oceans :3

FAKEATHON DAY 29: THE MOON MOOMOON - Derived from moomoo, moon

its the cow that jumped over the moon

FAKEATHON DAY 30: LEGENDARY CORRA - Derived from core, cor (latin for heart), terra

I figured, we’ve done every part of the earth this challenge… except the interior. So for the legendary representing the world, I based mine on the core of the earth. The body itself is meant to resemble the phylotypic stage of an embryo - the stage of development where most species are virtually identical. It cannot leave its lava bubble. At the center of its body is a heart glowing with all the colors of magma.

The FIRST person to make a legend of korra joke is getting slapped

[bigsister11]

Merry Christmas to @emotrafalgar I am your Secret Santa this year for the @opsecretsanta2019 event! :)

I hope you enjoy these little drabbles I wrote (I couldn't decide on whether I want to write Lawlu or Zolu for you, so I did both).

<3<3<3<3

Snow can also be a good thing

It's snowing, Law realized as he opened up the door of the Polar Tang and almost turned back immediately. The sky was too grey and lifeless, the air was too cold, and the snowflakes were already landing on his face, his coat, his everything, uninvitedly.  

He had to get on the Sunny to have a talk with the Strawhats about the plan, the route, the navigation, the logistics, the food, and the— his to-do list was knocked out of his head the moment he stepped on the Sunny, as he got tackled by Luffy before his second feet could even touch the deck.

"Morning Toraooo!" Luffy laughed with an open mouth as he settled on Law's chest, and petted his face with a cheerful expression. "Long time no see, where were you last night? You missed the party!"

"Get off me Strawhat-ya," Law hissed, while he tried to push the younger captain off of him, and simultaneously tried to put his hat back on his head. He failed at both.

"Make a snow angel first, everyone already did one, even your bear!" Luffy chuckled, his eyes were shining, his cheeks were flushed in the cold. "My name is Bepo!" Law faintly heard his crewmate's protest from the far end of the ship. 

"Angels don't exist, now let me get up," he said impatiently. Luffy was too close, his smile was too wide, the tip of his nose was pinkish due to the cold, and he'd made Law's heart beat way too fast. A reaction to Luffy's proximity he'd been trying to ignore for weeks now. 

"Ha ha, no way," Luffy laughed, and leaned a bit closer to grab his arms, and move them up and down next to his body to make the wings. 

"We'll arrive at a new island in a minute, you have to do it no-," Law was suddenly saved by a huge snowball, which hit the middle of Luffy's back with such a momentum that it sent him flying. 

“That is for ruining my great ‘Snow-Warrior of the Sea Usopp-sama’ statue Luffy!” Usopp shouted, preparing his catapult for the next shot.

Law got up and out of the way, and looked around. The Sunny was full of snow forms that the Strawhats and, to his surprise, his crew made. 

There were snow reindeers, snow robots, some weird snow things Law couldn't recognize but supposed they were meant to look like fancy food, snow berries and treasure, snow swords held by a snowman, and some other unrecognizable figures as well. 

Bepo and Penguin were still working on a miniature Polar Tang with such a deep focus they made Law smile.

His attention went back to Luffy pretty quickly though as he couldn't look away for long. Luffy was jumping around to dodge the snowball attacks, his hands grabbing everything in his way for support, his smile was never fading and his laughs were making him get butterflies in his stomach.

Suddenly two long arms grew out of the deck in front of him, one holding his hat, the other brushing the snow off of it.

"Here you go Torao-kun." Robin appeared next to him. She looked at him knowingly, the corner of her mouth turned up a little. Law felt himself blushing and quickly put his hat back to cover his face.

Somehow her expression made him remember why he came on board in the first place. 

"Hey, Strawhat-ya" he tried again but as Luffy turned to him to answer, his eyes caught a glimpse of something behind him. 

"We arrived!" Luffy yelled enthusiastically. Law turned and saw the island responsible for the winter weather. It had a mountain shaped like a Christmas tree in the middle, and all types of colorful lights were illuminating from it. Wonderful. He was so not in the mood for any of this.

Suddenly, Luffy was next to him, put an arm around his shoulder and looked up to him with the biggest eyes Law had ever seen. "Let's go together, and explore!" he said, and Law completely forgot how to say no. 

As they docked, a flock of birds arrived to greet the ship and started to circle above them. They looked like big, green seagulls, with red beaks and golden eyes. 

"Ahh, they look delicious!" Luffy eyed them hungrily, still holding onto Law who felt his side warming up where their bodies touched. "Sanji, I have found our lunch, let's catch them all!"

"Forget it, Luffy!"

"I would advise against that Captain." Sanji and Robin spoke up at the same time, but Sanji fell silent immediately and let her continue. 

"First of all, the Mistletern bird is an inedible species and while I am certain this would not stop you, but they are also the sacred birds of the island of Snowflakia," she told them.

"The mistle- what?" Luffy asked back, but couldn't finish, because suddenly some of the birds struck down as if they were attacking them and after they dodged Zoro's and Brook's blades, Nami's Clima-Tact, and Bepo's claws, they landed on Luffy's hat, and Law's shoulder at the same time.

"What is your problem stupid bird!" Luffy tried to brush off his bird who looked incredibly smug with himself and stubbornly dodged his attempts. 

Law wasn't successful in getting rid of his attacker either. He even used his power to shamble the bird away from him, but it flew back looking at him like he was an idiot, and settled back on his shoulder. 

When he gave up, he saw Robin looking at them as she chuckled quietly. Next to him, Sanji looked as red as a lobster. 

"What?" he asked nervously.

"They are also said to be a companion to people who want to kiss their love," she added with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “They are named after the mistletoe and the tern after all. I’m positive they won’t leave till it happens.”

Law felt like his whole body was setting itself on fire. He couldn’t even dare to look at Luffy when he said: “It must be just a superstition.”

“No, it is true,” Luffy said as he stepped closer to him, took Law’s hand and put his palm to the middle of his chest. “Because I do wanna kiss you Torao. D-do you want to kiss me?” he stuttered.

Law couldn’t do anything but look back at him. Luffy was smiling and looking at him bravely, but his cheeks were dark red, his whole body was shaking. He must be extremely nervous as well, he thought and felt a little bit better. 

“Yes, I do,” he managed to answer and before he could change his mind he kissed Luffy right in front of everyone. His lips were soft and sweet, and Law felt him smiling into the kiss. He put his arms around Luffy and pulled him even closer. 

Whatever cold he felt before, it completely disappeared. When they parted, Luffy looked into his eyes and sighed. “I’m so glad, because I love you, but I was sure you didn’t love me back,” he whispered so that Law would be the only one who heard him. 

“I’m glad too,” Law replied quietly, still holding him in his arms. Luffy closed his eyes and put his head on Law’s chest. 

“Snowflakia is my favorite island,” he sheepishly added. The birds suddenly flew away still wearing the same smug expression as if they were saying we told you so.

“Let’s look around then,” Law answered, now completely in the mood for the snow and ready for a new adventure. Anything was great, now that he had Luffy on his side.

(As they went, they faintly heard Usopp’s panicked voice from the ship: “My lady is very far from here, how am I supposed to kiss her like this? Be reasonable birdy!”). 

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

Luffy’s present 

When they meet up again after exploring the island separately, Zoro has a deep cut across his chest and the widest smile on his face.

“What happened to you Zoro?” Luffy asks angrily. “Who hurt you like this?” He is already ready to go back to hunt down whoever harmed his lover. 

“Calm down Luffy,” he replies and even though he is still bleeding he grabs Luffy and spins him around enthusiastically. “I got you something I know you will love!” He puts him down and gently kisses him on the lips, that is so happy and heartwarming Luffy almost forgets he’s gotten hurt.

However, before he can give it to Luffy, Chopper attacks him and drags him to the infirmary. He goes back outside to meet him right after Chopper lets him go. He can’t wait to show him what he’s got.

Luffy is sitting on the Sunny’s head, looking at the sea and he smiles up to him when he sits down next to him. The sun is already going down, painting them in the warmest colors. Zoro looks into Luffy’s eyes and sees the light reflecting in them. 

Zoro takes his hand, gently kissing the inside of his palm, making him blush. After all this time, he is still so in love with him. Then, he places a small, soft thing in Luffy’s hand: it looks like a blue sea urchin. Luffy looks back at him questioningly. 

“Eat it,” Zoro says, smiling, so he does. It tastes terrible. Zoro laughs at Luffy’s sour expression. 

“Come on,” he stands up, embraces Luffy, and jumps into the sea with him. 

Luffy has no time to panic, as Zoro pulls him up and their heads are out of the water in a second. Luffy takes an enormous breath he doesn’t really need and Zoro laughs at him, holding him so close Luffy can see his wet eyelashes.

“Oi Zoro, what was that for?” Luffy complains, his heart is beating very fast, his body reminding that he could sink any second. “I’m a hammer in the wa- “ he doesn’t finish as he realizes his legs are moving, pushing the water below him, his arms are also working, holding onto Zoro. 

“This is called the Kyanseru no Mi,” Zoro says. “I got it from the local marine base, I heard the rumors from my bounty hunter days that they were keeping it here. It can neutralize the ‘devil fruit curse’ for a whole day. You can swim and play in the water as much as you want for 24 hours. 

Luffy has no idea what to say. He is so happy, he wants to jump out of this skin. He puts his hand on Zoro’s face and kisses him. Zoro’s lips are salty and wet and he kisses him back fiercely as if he never wanted to let him go. 

“I love you,” Luffy says, and hugs him. 

“I love you too,” Zoro whispers in his ears.

“Oi, are you guys okay?” they hear Sanji shouting, next to him Chopper is staring at them, alarmed. “What the hell happened?”

Luffy lets go off Zoro and waves at them, making Chopper nearly faint. “I’m okay!” he shouts back. “Zoro got me a fruit that allows me to swim for a whole day!” 

The rest of the crew comes out for the noise and Usopp instantly jumps into the sea, dragging the swearing Sanji with him.  

Robin smiles down them and senses that this is a beginning of a party Chopper would be very sad to be left out off, so she brings a lifebelt out for him, and gently puts him into the water as well. 

Nami also joins them for a little, partly to look out for Chopper, and partly because the water is warm and nice. She leaves right before they start a huge water battle, which is followed by a jumping and diving competition as well. 

Luffy wins the jumping one and Zoro wins the diving but it might be because it scares Luffy a little to dive down that much. He hunts down a huge fish though and Sanji gets out to cook it for them. 

By the time the moon comes up and paints the water in beautiful silver light, only Zoro and Luffy stays behind. 

“Lean back,” he tells Luffy and holds his head in his palms while he is floating. 

Luffy closes his eyes, and he hears his own heart beating. He has never been this happy. He feels Zoro’s hand, holding him up, and he is doing the only thing in the world that should be impossible: he is in the water and he can enjoy it fully without being afraid, or immobilized. 

He reaches up and pulls Zoro down for a kiss. 

“Today, I have already done the impossible with your help,” he whispers after they part. “Tomorrow, I will become the King of Pirates.

“Of course you will,” Zoro whispers back, his voice trembling a little. “My King.”

[kaziklubaby]

Title: The Bonnie Lass of Dublin

Chapter 01

Words: 1.7k

Pairings: Dutch van der Lind x Molly O’Shea x Kieran Duffy

Warnings: None.

Summary: fluff, angst and smut.

What is love but a kaleidoscopic illusion? What is happiness but sadness pending? What is sorrow but the prospect of joy? What is hate but unrequired love?

Comment: I write improbable couples and can change your mind.

*

Molly O’Shea was crying. It was not the first time she had cried, and she was certain that it would not be her last. In these moments, she couldn’t help but remember the day that she boarded the ship to this new land, allegedly full of opportunities.

When they asked her why she did it, why did she come to the US, she merely said that she came in the whim of finding adventures and excitement, which was only partly true. Why would a lass from a wealthy family board on a ship and come to that wild country, with no means to live? There were parts of her story that even she didn’t want to look at.

She didn't sign up for that kind of life, though. Living in the run, sleeping in tents like savages, almost never getting a glimpse of society, much less the fair part of it. Who would have thought that Molly O’Shea, entitled the Bonnie Lass of Dublin – a title given by Seamus O’Brien, a man with means and influence – would be running with outlaws and eating beans with meat like some kind of peasant?

If she knew that beforehand, she would have stayed in Ireland. She should have married that poor shoemaker, or at least accept old Seamus O’Brien, then she would have had a roof over her head, and a comfortable life, even if not one of the great romances.

Great romances... they have lied to her as well, that’s why she didn’t read them anymore. They were all but cover, much like her relationship with Dutch was turning.

He was the reason she traded all. She could have returned Ireland before when she had the opportunity, but no. She met him, and for him, she would walk to the ends of the Earth, or so she thought.

In the beginning, she was stunned by his looks and words, it was like a spell had fallen over her eyes. His dark eyes were much like the ones of a Selkie, dark and mysterious, his voice was like music to her ears. When he told her about his vision of the world, how he valued freedom and liberty above all else and dreamed of living an independent existence, exulting that facade of Robin Hood, she thought that she had found a hero. Her hero, a rogue that had a heart of gold, believing he and his crew could make a difference in the world.

Also, it was he who taught her about pain and pleasure and showed her the many ways to satisfy a woman, even if he wasn’t paying that attention to her now. He had been her first and she dreamed that he would be her last too.

She truly believed that she had found her hero, the perfect guy from the tales she heard, and he swept her off her feet. First, he was around as a protector, then, slowly he became – and without any resistance of the Bonnie Lass of Dublin – her lover.

Or was the other way around?

She was his lover. Who was she here? No one, nothing. Just the same as the next girl.

At first, she couldn’t care less about what other people thought of her, she was with him and nothing could change her love for him, all she needed at the end of the day was Dutch and him alone, his presence filled her in a way she never experienced before, however, as the time went by, little by little, she noticed that their relationship turned into a sour convivence and that she wasn’t enough to him anymore. Her love only grew as his feelings merely shrink.

Why was that? She wasn’t being good enough? She loved him so much, why her love wasn’t enough to him? Why Dutch was ignoring her like a bad habit? Had she lost the gleam of “new thing”, then? What was Molly O’Shea now but a conquer for him?

These ideas filled her head and heart with distress.

Had he become tired of her?

At first, she thought that it was just a day thing, maybe he needed some space – all men need space sometimes, right? – in the end, she was only trying to ignore what she could obviously see, for Molly O’Shea was no fool.

Sooner than she expected, Dutch was already leaving her alone all the time, cornered in their tent by her thoughts.

How much time would it take for him to leave her by the side of a road? Or worse, for her to become like Miss Grimshaw, watching him take younger girls as lovers, because she wasn’t blind to the silent stories of the camp.

She was a proud Irish girl, and if he left her on a road, she would survive, but she didn’t want to. She needed him to acknowledge her, to be with her, he promised her. Dutch promised to love and cherish her, was all of that a lie? He said he would take care of her, where was he now?

That was her life now. No more Bonnie Lass of Dublin, no more balls, no more Seamus O’Brien holding her hand and trying to persuade her into being his lover, nor a poor shoemaker and his promises of a happy family. Just Miss O’Shea, plain and boring in the eyes of the man she loved.

She didn't come to America to be a servant and a diminished lover, much less the reason for mockery. People at camp made fun of her, or despised her, and never back home someone would treat her like that! She was better than them all.

And she cried, near the lakeshore, as the sun was up high in the sky. She had nowhere else to go. What could she do?

-You okay Miss? – someone said.

She looked at the owner of that voice with despise and anger.

-What do you want? – she tried to brush her tears away, but they just kept coming.

He noticed that when she cried, her green eyes seemed bluer, and he imagined that they looked like the greenish oceans of her land.

-I’m sorry, didn’t want to bother – Kieran said, ashamed of disturbing her – You seemed...

-What I seem or not isn’t your concern – she said.

-I’m sorry Miss... – he said, walking away.

That boy Kieran was noisy, she didn’t trust him, nor she desired to engage in conversation with someone that treated their horses, it was below her.

Molly made up her mind, she was going to talk to Dutch about these things that bothered her, maybe... their relationship still had a chance to be more than a source of sadness.

She hoped and she waited for him.

  [...]

 When they argued, she simply was taken by her anger and there was nothing in the world that would make her cry, but soon as her blood cooled down, she would feel how her heart was broken, every time it seemed one step away from mending it. She was walking by the shore of the lake, she needed to get away from the camp, no more people seeing her cry, no more small talk about her.

She needed space, and she needed to cry. All her being felt torn apart because of his words, Dutch could be so cruel when he wanted to be.

She walked until she couldn’t hear or see the camp anymore, then fell on her knees by the water, without caring that the dirt would ruin her beautiful skirt. She was so tired of it all.

Only the wind heard her, and carried her cries of sorrow in itself. Or so she thought.

A few paces away, there was a Kieran relaxing near the water. He enjoyed the quiet and calm, and the sounds of nature, much more pleasant than the talk of people. He had just taken a bath and now was drying in the warm light of the sun.

He couldn’t forget his status in the gang, being a former O’Driscoll and all, people still mistrusted him and talked about killing him, however, Kieran Duffy wasn’t sad at that moment, in fact, he felt in peace, for fish was plenty, nature was beautiful, sun was warm against his skin, like a caress, and life was good, after all.

The singing of the birds had been disturbed by an ugly cry, and his peace was broken. Who was crying at that hour of the day? It could not be a lady in white, for they only appeared in the dead of the night.

He looked around until his eyes found who was crying at distance.

It was her again, sad Miss O’Shea.

Kieran sighed. What was a cry but a broken call to arms?

Miss O’Shea was a proud one, of that he was sure, but he didn’t hate her, he didn’t even dislike her. She was sad all the time, that’s all. He couldn’t blame her too, he always thought that love could be tricky sometimes, yet, he couldn’t help but feel sorry for her in the same way he would feel sorry for a bird with a broken wing, although she should never know about it – she wouldn’t understand.

A part of him was a little scared of talking to her too. Who was he but the guy who treated horses? He had no right to talk to her. She wouldn’t enjoy talking to him either – as it happened before – and probably would think he was prying.

Still, he wanted to do something. It wasn’t right to just let her drown in sorrows, without not even a slight of happiness. A pretty girl like her should enjoy flowers, maybe red ones to match her hair.

When Molly O’Shea returned to camp, her eyes were red and plump from crying so much, and she wished for nothing more than to lay down and sleep, but as she approached the tent she shared with Dutch, she saw flowers over her bed, a beautiful bouquet of wildflowers, red and green.

As she picked it up, smelling them, her face lost her sad and tired expression, lightening herself, as she embraced that bouquet.

Kieran saw it from afar, as he mended a horse cell, and again he couldn’t help himself but feel a warm sensation within his chest. She looked so beautiful, and the smile in her face made her look angel like. Molly O’Shea was amazing indeed.

-Dutch! I knew you weren’t serious! These flowers are beautiful, thank you! – she said, as Dutch approached.

He seemed confused for a moment, but only enough to plot his way through it.

-Yes, I made it for you, darling. All for you. – he said.

[swanqueeneverafter]

After The Sunset, Pt.7

Enchanted Forest. Past. Tavern. (Will sits at a table near the window as Marian pours him a drink.) Will: (Shaking his head:) "I don't understand, you're of noble birth, why would you give it all up for Robin?" Marian: (Chuckles:) "Believe it or not, your fearless leader is also of noble birth. When he returned from war to find everything stolen from him, Robin vowed to take it all back." Will: "So you know what he is, and what he does. Yet you still-" Marian: "There's good in him, Will. When you see the good in someone, you don't just give up on them, especially if they don't see it themselves." Will: (Thinks a moment, and then:) "Nah, I'm sorry, but if you turned him in right now, you could collect the reward, forget this tavern and be sitting pretty for the rest of your life." Marian: (Smiles:) "I spent most of my life living in comfort, but I only came alive when I met Robin. I just pray that you live long enough to know what I do." Will: "Oh aye, and what's that?" Marian: "That when you find true love, you fight for it. Every day." (With that, Marian turns and leaves Will to his thoughts. Catching his eye, Marian smiles to Robin who is standing behind the bar as she passes. Robin returns the smile until Little John blocks his view.) Robin: “Unless you're here for a pint, Little John, the answer's ‘No.’” Little John: “I have a fresh lead. King Midas' carriage is passing through town tomorrow, and he'll only have a few of his royal guards with him.” Robin: “I’ve already agreed to do Will’s job despite my better judgement. Now you want us to rob a man who could literally turn us all into statues?” Little John: “But you're not a barkeep. You're a thief. Risk is what being a thief is all about!” (The Sheriff enters.) The Sheriff: “Well, I had to see this for myself. Robin of Locksley walking the straight and narrow. Nice apron. (To Marian:) M'lady.” Marian: “Sheriff.” Robin: “What can I do for you, Nottingham?” The Sheriff: “Hm. What can you do for me? (Grabs a tankard, walks behind the bar and pours himself a drink:) Well, for starters, your taxes are overdue.” Robin: “I need time.” The Sheriff: (Takes a long pull of his drink, then leans against the bar:) “Well, because I'm in a generous mood, I'm giving you two days. After that, I'll have no choice but to shutter your tavern and throw you in debtor's prison. And poor old Marian here will have no arms to hold her but mine.” Robin: “She'd never be with you.” Marian: “I can speak for myself. (To The Sheriff:) “I'd never be with you.” The Sheriff: “Well, when you are on the street and your husband is in jail, perhaps you'll see my appeal.” Robin: “I'll find your money. Somehow.” The Sheriff: “Really? Two days.” (He leaves.)

Wonderland. Past. Night. (Tiana has been walking for hours, with little success.) Tiana: "Ugh, that charlatan. There's no such thing as a red crow. (Just then, a crow caws above her:) Huh." (As the bird takes flight, Tiana decides to follow.) The Crimson Crow Tavern. Exterior. (The crow lands atop the sign for the tavern which Tiana reads before heading inside.) The Crimson Crow Tavern. Interior. (Entering, Tiana moves cautiously through the tavern before deciding she's seen enough. As she attempts to leave, a bearded man blocks her path.) Bearded Man: “Well, I guess the auction fell short, Princess. But since you're here, I think I'll take those earrings at a severe discount.” (Tiana backs away, clutching her earrings when a man beside her draws his sword.) Prince Marias: (Pointing his sword at the Bearded Man:) “Why not bow and show some respect?” Bearded Man: “Well, she's barely a princess.” Prince Marias: “But she's still a lady, is she not? If no manners are shown, perhaps I'll hold my own auction. Your legs should get a few coins, seeing as they'll soon be half off. (Thinking better of things, the Bearded Man bows slightly towards Tiana before turning and leaving the tavern:) Prince Marias at your service. (Sheathes his sword:) But please, call me Robert.” (Prince Marias kisses Tiana’s hand as he bows.) Tiana: “Well, I'm quite grateful for you stepping in, but I'm afraid I'm not deserving of all this from a nobleman.” Prince Marias: “It's me who hopes to be deserving. To fend off a tipsy rogue is simple, but to learn what has led our paths to cross, well, that requires a perilous path few are brave enough to take on in a tavern such as this. Perhaps you’ll join me for dinner?” (Tiana, taken aback by this, simply smiles and nods her assent.)

Enchanted Forest. Past. Forbidden Fortress. (Will, his dagger drawn ready, walks through the halls while Robin readies his men.) Robin Hood: “Maleficent traffics in the darkest of magic. Do not touch anything. We're here for one thing and one thing only, the gold.” Will: “The gold's hidden behind a wall panel. Look for one quite a bit smaller than the rest. (The Merry Men spread out and split into groups to cover more ground while Will takes off alone. Walking down a long corridor, he grows frustrated in his search:) Come on. Where are you?” (Leaning down, he looks into a jar of what appear to be eyeballs. His suspicions are confirmed as one of the eyeballs turns to look at him. Straightening up, Will quickly moves away from the jar before turning to stand in front of a large wooden cabinet. Opening the doors, he looks up at the many spell books, before finally spotting what he’s been looking for. Quickly picking it up, Will looks down at the silver looking glass in his hand.)

Storybrooke. Swan-Mills House. Recent Past. (Emma and Regina sit waiting patiently on the couch while Henry makes his choice.) Henry: “Okay, I've narrowed it down to Star Wars: The Last Jedi... or Deadpool. Which was a huge hit.” Emma: “Why can't we watch a movie for the whole family? You always get to pick.” Henry: “Because the ‘Family Member of the Week’ gets to pick the movie.” Emma: “Yeah, but you get ‘Family Member of the Week’ every week.” Regina: “And there's a reason for that.” Emma: “Yeah, ‘cause you pick ‘Family Member of the Week’.” Regina: (Turning to her wife:) “Are you accusing me of nepotism?” Henry: “Okay, it's Deadpool. This is it. This is the greatest decision. (Loading the dvd player:) I'm so happy with this decision. That's what it's going to be.” Regina: (Still looking at Emma:) “Is there a problem?” Emma: “No, you know what, it’s fine.” Regina: (Scoffs, as Emma folds her arms:) “I don’t know what you’re so upset about. You and Henry have exactly the same taste in movies.” Emma: “‘Gina, honestly, I don’t have a problem with it, let’s just watch the movie, okay?” Regina: (Narrowing her eyes in suspicion:) “Okay, fine.” Emma: “Good.” Swan-Mills House. Exterior. Two Minutes Later. (All is quiet inside the house except for the sounds of the movie playing on the TV, when suddenly:) Regina: “Oh my god! Are you even allowed to be watching this? Henry Daniel Swan-Mills, what is the rating of this movie?! (Laughter can be heard from both Emma and Henry as Regina fails to see the funny side. Presumably reading the dvd box:) Rated R? This is an R rated movie?!” (Renewed bouts of laughter can be heard emanating from the house, followed by the sounds of hurried footsteps and the click of the television as it is switched off.) Emma & Henry: “Aww.” Regina: “That was not funny you two.” Henry: “Oh, come on, Mom. It was a little funny.” Emma: “Yeah, you should see the look on your face!” (Giggling breaks out once more and this time, Regina allows herself a smile before joining the others in their laughter.)

Enchanted Forest. Past. Merry Men's Camp. (The Merry Men sit around the campfire laughing as the chest filled with gold is opened before them.) Little John: “Have you ever seen anything so beautiful in your entire life?” Robin Hood: “A chest of gold cannot compare to the beauty of a woman.” Will: “Depends on the woman.” Little John: “Depends on the chest.” (Laughter breaks out again before a cool wind blows through the camp.) Maleficent: (Via disembodied voice:) “To the thieves who took from me what is not theirs. (The Merry Men stand and search the trees for any signs of the sorceress:) keep the gold if you must. It is nothing more than offal from the bowels of the earth. But return the other treasure you have stolen, for while its power is alluring, it will only bring you misery!” (The wind ceases and the campfire returns to a manageable height.) Robin Hood: (Angrily:) “My instructions were clear! Who among you disobeyed me?! (Looks around the camp at his men:) Who took this other treasure?” (Will stares at Robin, but says nothing.)

Storybrooke. Swan-Mills House. Present. (Emma returns home from a hard day's work and immediately calls out for her wife.) Emma: "Alright Regina, it's just you and me. Our first movie night alone and it's my pick." (Emma stands in the foyer waiting for any kind of response. Meanwhile, upstairs, upon hearing her wife's return, a devilish smile crosses Regina’s lips.) Emma: (Now climbing the stairs:) "C'mon, Gina, I've had a crappy day and all I wanna do is fall asleep watching my favourite movie with you. (Reaching the top of the stairs:) It's a classic... come out, come out wherever you are?" (Reaching the door to their bedroom, Emma curiously pushes open the door to find Regina waiting for her inside.) Emma: (Smiles broadly in the doorway:) "Why, Mrs. Swan-Mills, you're trying to seduce me." Regina: "Hm, what makes you say that?" (Walking further into the room, Emma continues to recite lines from ‘The Graduate’.) Emma: "Well, aren't you?" Regina: (Happy to continue their game:) "Why, haven't you ever seen anybody in a slip before?" Emma: (Sitting beside her on the bed:) "Yes, I have." Regina: "Well then, how could I possibly be trying to seduce you?" Emma: "I suppose when you put it like that..." Regina: "Would you like me to seduce you?" Emma: "I don't think that'll be necessary." Regina: "Emma, I want you to know, I'm available to you." Emma: "Is that so?" (Leans in and starts kissing her wife's neck.) Regina: "Mmhmm. If you want to sleep with me, I want you to know you can call me up any time you want and we'll make some kind of arrangement." Emma: "That's very kind of you." Regina: "Because I find you very attractive and any time you want-" Emma: (Kissing Regina hard on the lips:) "Enough foreplay." (With that, Emma pounces on the older woman, much to Regina's delight.)

[immergladsss]

A Kiss! Finally

Excerpt from “The Troubles from Monsters and Men” The kiss finally happened!! It was my first time writing a kissing scene so I may have gone overboard... Its for my fanfiction based on the 2008 movie “The Secret of Moonacre”. Its a two part fanfiction, this being Chapter 6 of Part 2. Its a bit of an old fandom, not many still lingering around, but I wanted to contribute something...so here we go!

Recap: Robin De Noir has lost his memories after a run in with a monster. Now its up to Maria to help get them back. Their friends have suggested “True Loves First Kiss” to break the spell, but they can’t be together without fighting over one thing or the other. Plus, Robin’s been a huge ass, he doesn’t believe or trust anyone

"I don't like Robin," Maria stated.

Her friends looked up from their tasks with confused faces. Lizzy was reading a novel while Cat was embroidering birds from Spain. They were a few hours into their trip back home. Most of it had been in silence.

"What do you mean?" Lizzy asked.

"Does she really need to clarify? He's been an arse, a—a Man—"

"Cat, don't you dare finish that word!" Lizzy chastised.

Cat stuck out her tongue and crossed her arms.

"But she's right," Maria said defending Cat. "He's been horrible to everyone. He needs to be stopped. I need to help him."

"I still say you should hit him upside the head. Maybe your Moon Magic will finally knock some decency into him. Make sure it's a hard thump though."

"Cat, you're letting your feelings for David talk."

"Can you blame me? The poor thing already feels insecure about his status, the last thing he needs is his own friend calling him out on it."

Lizzy sighed and closed her book. Cat was right.

"If that doesn't work though?" Maria asked.

Lizzy looked at Cat and Maria, before responding, "I think David and Richard have a point. You may have to kiss him."

Maria rolled her eyes and fell back against her seat. "He doesn't love me, and I can't say that I do. It'll never work."

Lizzy sighed once more. She had nothing else to suggest.

Maria stared out the window for the rest of their trip back to London. There, Digweed would be waiting with a carriage to take her back home. Maria was too busy in her head, working out her next trap for the bird boy.

"Digweed!" Maria called him over. She was peeking out from the large manor doors, as though hiding from someone.

"What be the matter, miss?"

Maria handed him a sealed envelope with the name "Robin De Noir" at the front. "I need you to give this to Robin when you see him. And if he asks who it's from, say Loveday."

Digweed creased his brow. "Now miss, last time I helped with this, your uncle nearly chewed my ear off."

"Please, Digweed. You must help me!" Maria begged. "Robin refuses to talk to me, and I have a plan to get his memories back."

Digweed's eyes widened and he nodded his head. "You can count on me, miss." Then he left to join Sir Benjamin. The men were going out on a hunt with the De Noir clan. They were hoping to catch a boar and deer for the holiday feasts. Maria was staying to help Loveday and Mrs. Heliotrope with the Christmas decorations. Christmas would be held in the Merryweather estate while New Year's would be celebrated at the De Noir Castle.

As she headed back to her room, she ran into Marmaduke. He had a hand on his hip and with the other, pointed a wooden ladle at her. "Do I believe my eyes? Is the young Moon Princess plotting an attack?"

Maria stepped back and waved her hands in defense. "No, no, Marmaduke. Not an attack. I just want to get Robin to listen to me."

Marmaduke tapped his foot. "Alright then, but know that If you need my help, all you have to do is say the word and I'll pop at your service!"

"Thank you!"

Maria rushed into her tower and closed the door. Now she just had to wait until tomorrow.

"Maria dear, are you sure you don't want to come to Silverydew with us?" Loveday asked as she put on Albert's coat.

"Yes, Loveday, I'm sure. I'm been on the road too much, I want to spend some time home."

"Alright, be safe dear."

"Yes, my child, remember Digweed and Marmaduke are here if you need anything. We won't be long!" Mrs. Heliotrope said and kissed Maria's forehead.

"Maria," her uncle said coming out of his office. "Stay indoors. It's too cold for you to go outside."

"Yes uncle—"

"And if you do need to go outside, take Marmaduke or Digweed with you."

"Yes uncle, I will be safe and use my head."

Sir Benjamin grunted and gave Maria a short side hug. Before her family could leave, she lifted Albert into the air and spun him around. Then she blew a raspberry into his cheek. Albert was growing well. His hair was curly and fell to his shoulders. His eyes remained a beautiful blue filled with joy. There were no scares, mental or physical, from his kidnapping.

She waved goodbye to her family, closed the doors and left them unlocked. Then she hid in the parlor. All she had to do now was wait and hope her trap had worked.

It wasn't long before she heard the doors open. Maria hid behind the parlor door and waited. She heard the soft tap of his boots make his way to the piano room.

She peered out the door and silently followed to the piano room. Maria gawked. He was there, standing by the piano. He actually came. He stood with his back to the door, Maria's letter was in his hand. He was lost in his thoughts as he ran his hand over the dusty piano. Though she could not see his face, she felt his tension. He had yet to notice her and stood unaware of the moon princess that watching him by the door.

Robin shifted his weight. He felt foolish being there. If Richard found out Robin was here, he would never let it go. When Robin first saw the letter, he decided to ignore it. If Loveday and her family were only gone for the day, he didn't see why he had to spend his day watching over her. She had magic, she could defend herself. But then he remembered their fight, and how much of an arse he had been to David because of it. Now with all the mess of the escape, he felt a foreign feeling of care tug at his heart. After all, it was his guards who failed to properly secure Charles and Althea. Even if indirect, Robin was at fault too. He decided that he had nothing to lose and accepted the task.

Maria pursed her lips and squared her shoulders. This was it. She had nothing left to lose. Just as Cat suggested, Maria ran with a battle cry and landed her hand on his back. Her plan was to bring Robin over, and trap him where he couldn't run. Then, focusing her thoughts and energy into the pearls, she was going to touch his back as she did with the guards to break the curse.

But she overestimated her force. Maria landed with all her weight on his back and pushed him forwards. Taken by surprise, the bird boy stumbled and fell to his knees.

"Ey! What was that for?" He yelled over his shoulder, spotting the wide-eyed Merryweather. He thought they'd made peace. Was it all a ruse, was she planning to take him on now?

Guess that didn't work, Maria squeaked and followed Cat's second suggestion. She bopped him upside the head, hoping her moon magic would do the trick. The force knocked his bowler hat over his eyes and onto the floor.

"Oy, you little witch! I'm going to get you for that!"

Maria paled, Oh no, that didn't work either. Quick as a mouse, Maria turned on her heels and ran out the piano room.

"Merryweather, come back 'ere!" He spat behind her.

She ran for her life.

Maria turned down the hall and darted into the library, slamming the large doors behind her. She made a beeline past the couch and hid amongst one of the bookshelves towards the very back.

"You can't hide from me!" He shouted pushing the doors wide open. They hit against the walls with a force that vibrated through the room.

Over the cracks between the books, Maria spotted the De Noir. His charcoal-lined eyes were alive with a determined flame as they scanned the aisles.

"…Come out, come out, where ever you are, Moon Princess… I know you're in here."

Maria held her breath and back-peddled closer to the wall.

Robin quietly walked past the center of the library. She was watching him, he could feel her eyes on him. His hunter's instinct pushed him forwards, guiding him towards her like an invisible eye.

He was getting closer. Maria continued retreating until her back hit against a shelf. It groaned and rocked just ever so slightly.

Thud. A book fell from the shivering shelf with a boom that echoed throughout. Maria cringed.

"Aha!" The De Noir ran towards her.

Desperate times called for desperate measures. Maria grabbed a handful of books and tossed them at him, hoping to scare him off and block his path. He knocked each of the books to the side, growled, and lunged for Maria.

Maria screamed and ducked into another book aisle. She maneuvered towards the exit and made it out the doors. She skidded to the left and sprinted down the hall, huffing as her corset seemed to squeeze tighter on her lungs.

"Just wait till I get my hands on you!" She heard him shout behind her. He was catching up to her.

Maria screeched and pushed herself forwards.

"Digweed! Marmaduke! Wrolf! Help me, please!" Maria yelled, hoping one of them could hear her and come to her recuse.

Down in the kitchen, Digweed and Marmaduke were eating their roasted pot pie. Wrolf was sitting by Marmaduke's feet eating a lamb chop. Maria's cries of help echoed in, distracting them from their food. Digweed and Wrolf jumped to their feet and ran towards the door, but Maramduke popped in front of them. He wore a mischievous smile and ushered them both back with his hands. "This is business they must be solving."

"But the misses," Digweed tried to protest.

"Rest assured the lad won't hurt her. If he does, I'll pop right at her side."

Back on the other side of the manor, Robin laughed. "They aren't here! No one can help you! I'll give you a reason to think twice before striking me behind my back!"

"I'm incredibly sorry!" Maria yelled behind her as she continued running. "I really truly am! I thought it would break the curse! It worked once before."

"Lies!"

"It's true! You'll see if you read my book!"

"It's too late Merryweather! Don't play with fire if you can't handle the flame!"

She slid around a corner towards another hallway and ran into the first room, shutting and locking the door behind her.

Maria lunged for the bed, setting up a fortress of pillows around her. She was panting. Beads of sweat dripped down her forehead. She reached behind her and pulled at her bodice, loosening the restraints against her lungs. She heaved a large breath, feeling as though she had been submerged underwater and only just come up for air.

She was about to sit back against the bedframe but jumped in the air when the doorknob started rattling.

"Merryweather! This door isn't enough to stop me! I'm a De Noir remember?" Robin began to pick the lock. 

Maria shrieked and tried to hide under the bed, but her hooped skirt couldn't fit underneath. She groaned and lifted herself up. She made a mental note to ask Loveday for more dresses for Christmas.

Maria picked up a pillow and readied herself. If it was a fight he wanted, it was a fight he was going to get.

With a battle cry, Robin kicked the open. His fists were up in the air, ready to take on whatever was thrown at him.

Maria screamed and threw a pillow that struck Robin's face. She quickly picked up another for a shield and a candelabra for a sword and took a fighting stance.

Robin laughed as he strolled in, "who taught you to stand like that?"

"You!"

Robin's face fell, and he picked up the pillow Maria had tossed at him.

"Then it's a good thing I don't remember!"

Maria gasped. "Oh, you oaf! The Robin I knew was a thousand times better than you!" She tossed a candle with every word at his head. He dodged every one of them.

"No! He was a sap! A hopeless, lovestruck, weakling, balmy fool!"

"You take that back, you—you devil!"

"Is that the best you've got? I must've lost my mind for me to have fallen for you!"

"Oh, I'll show you!"

Maria grabbed the last pillow and hurled herself at Robin. She pounded him with the sack of feathers for all he was worth.

"Ahh!" Robin raised his hands in defense. He used his other one to smack her with a pillow he had picked off the ground. Maria reached for another candelabra, but Robin jumped in front of her and blocked her path.

Soon they were battling, using their pillows as both shields and swords.

Maria grew frustrated. Using all of her weight, she rammed him with her pillow and pushed him back against the wall.

"You will never be half the man you used to be!" She spat, her eyes pierced into his soul.

Robin narrowed his eyes and scoffed. He lowered his face to her eye-level, until their noses were a mere inch from one another. "What makes you think I want to be? If I didn't know any better, I would almost say this only confirms you truly loved that oaf!" He huffed and pushed her back.

"Oof," she cried out, smacking his chest with the palms of her hand. She stepped back, her legs hit against the bed and she fell backward. She grabbed on to Robin's jacket and pulled him down with her. They landed on the bed.

Robin was on top of her.

His heavy breathing fell on to her neck. She hated the butterflies in her stomach, they weren't meant for him. At least not who he was right now.

She felt his beating heart through his chest. She was trapped underneath him, his arms pressed against the bed on either side of her head. They were the only support keeping him from completely falling on to her. A heat of emotion soared from her stomach to her face. She turned a bright red, though the spark of anger remained lit in her eye.

Robin was at a loss. He felt his own ears grow warm. He wasn't quite sure what to do now that he had her pinned down. It seemed like time stood still as they stayed there, catching their breath. Staring at one another.

Maria finally broke the silence as she said between breaths, "Whatever feelings I had once before, are dimming with every day I spend with you."

Robin blinked as a hurt look passed through his eyes. Then his eyes darkened and narrowed, masking any possible feelings he could have. "Then why did you call me here?" He growled as he brought his face closer to hers.

Maria's chest rose and fell as she continued to catch her breath. It was a rhythmic roll against his body. His eyes glanced down at her lips, then scanned over Maria's soft, pale and freckled skin, before once more meeting her eyes. The passion in her eyes glowed like embers, a light that seemed to draw him in. There was so much hidden inside of her. Did she really have the answer to his lost memories?

A few curls fell in front of Robin's face, shielding his eyes. Maria raised her hand and gently brushed the strands away from his face. The warmth of her hand sent a shiver down his spine.

Searching Robin's eyes, she still saw the beautiful brown orbs that once held mischief and life, though they no longer held the tenderness they once used too. They were lost and vacant. She wondered if Richard was right. What if she had kissed him then, could that have saved him?

She traced the edges of his face, down his jaw, and over his chin. Her thumb brushed against his lips.

Robin blinked, confused.

Before she knew what, she was thinking, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down. Her lips found his and she kissed him. A soft, lingering kiss on his parted lips.

Robin panicked. His body froze yet his mind reared, demanding he push away, but he couldn't. He wouldn't. The void in the pit of his heart returned with a vengeance and ached to be filled. It ached for her. To bury himself in her love. At that second, he not only wished her feelings for Robin, the old Robin, were real. He wished they were for him.

Robin yielded. He let himself fall and melted against her hold. He returned her kisses and deepened it. Robin slid an arm to caress her side as he pressed himself into her. Maria squeaked with surprise and she inched herself back, giving him more room. She had no idea what she was doing, but she didn't want to stop. She let him take the lead.

Robin coiled an arm around her waist and tried to press her closer to him, but her hooped skirt acted like a barrier. Maria's hands traced up his neck and raked through his curls, knocking off his hat. He softly moaned into her lips. His lips then traveled down her cheek into her neck, and Maria whimpered at his soft pecks. Robin smiled and traced more kisses down her neck into her collarbone, each with more pressure before finally returning to her lips.

Suddenly, Robin's mind spun and flashed a scene.

—He was back at the beach. Maria was in his arms. They were falling into the sand. Her eyes were filled with fear. The faint echo of her scream, she was screaming his name, rang in his ears. Suddenly he was shrouded in darkness as he heard Charles' and Althea's laughter overpower Maria's screams. —

Robin cracked. He pulled himself off her. His eyes were wide with fear. He stepped back and grabbed at his hair, pulling it. "N—No," he gasped. "Stop!"

He walked back towards the door. He almost tripped over the pillows, but he regained his balance and continued stumbling away from her.

Maria tried to stop him, she wanted him to talk to her. Something had snapped. She felt it.

Robin shook his head. "P—Please, leave me alone!"

He grabbed his hat from the floor and ran out the manor. Maria followed but lost sight of him in the forest.

She crumpled down to the snowy floor, and let out a heaving sob. It didn't work.

If you would like to read more: 

Part 1: When a Young Heart Loves  https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12248770/1/When-a-Young-Heart-Loves Part 2: The Troubles of Monsters and Men  https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12703006/1/The-Troubles-from-Monsters-and-Men

[dork-empress]

AUvember Day 28 Teen Titans--Time Travel

I mean I know they’ve done time travel before, but I think I gave it enough of a spin and also it gets better later as I was writing. 

“Titans! After him!” Robin shouted and pointed at time master. In perfect sync they all raised up and chased the villain down.

“You’ll never catch ME titans,” Time master giggled, “You’re running out of TIME!” Laughing maniacally, he called forth a portal, and jumped through. The titans tried to slow their momentum, but one after the other they fell into the portal.

“What the..” Raven rubbed the top of her head, Where are we?”

the other titans slowly got up, looking around their surroundings. The area was all green and meadow-y, and in the distance they saw someone coming up to them on Horseback.

Robin looked around more, “Where’s Time Master?”

“and who are THOSE guys?” Beast Boy said, pointing at the men. Now that they were closer, they could identify them as wearing knights armof.

When they got close enough, the two men drew their swords and pointed them at the tiitans. “Halt! In the name of the king!”

The titans looked at each other, confused. “Uhhh,” Cyborg said, “The what now?”

The knights were just as confused. “Who are you? What business do you have in these lands?”

Robin lifted his arms, “We’re…the teen titans. What lands are these?”

The knight raised an eyebrow. “You do not recognize the lands of the Master of Time?”

“Master of time…” Robin repeated to himself.

“Timemaster!” Starfire said, putting her fist in her palm, “He has used his time device to take over the kingdom here!”

“But how!” Cyborg sked, “He jumped in only seconds before us.

“Time physics works differently, once you start messing with the fourth dimension,” Raven said, “It seems what was moments for us could have been days, weeks, months, even years for Timemaster.”

“Then we have to defeat him.” Robin said, furrowing his brow, “Defeat him, force him to take us to the present, and arrest him.”

“You want to arrest our king? The knight asked.

“Uhhh….” Robin said, “…No?”

“Oh. Alright then.”

“Please,” Stafire said, “Can you take us to this king?”

The knights looked at one another, “Certainly, we can escort a maiden as fair as you up to the palace.”

Starfire smiled at them. “We shall follow your lead, gracious knights,” She bowed low, and one of them offered her his horse. The other, in kindness, offered Raven his own, but she glared death at him.

Arriving at the palace, it seemed fairly typical for the period, peasants wandering around the street along with animals and a lot…a LOT of dirt. The only major difference was timemaster’s symbol hanging over all the bannisters. “Aw, ew!” Cyborg said, “There’s mud all up in my circuits! Ugh!”

“I like the mud!” Beastboy said, turning into a pig and rolling in the mud. “It’s so waaaarm.”

“Careful,” Raven said, lifting him up with her hand as he turned back to human, “You don’t want to get burned for witchcraft.”

“Says the actual witch!” Beast Boy said, grumping. Raven rolled her eyes and kept going.

“Youre majesty,” The knights said as they entered the much fancier throne room, “You had said to keep an eye out for strange visitors. Well, we have brought them to you.”

“Excellent,” Timemaster said from his throne, “Guards, lock them in the dungeon.

They all gasped as the doors locked behind them. “Oh no!” Beastboy said, “We’ve been red wedding!”

“Titans!” Robin shouted, “Get Timemaster!”

The titans fought back the guards, and though it was hard with so many, their future tech, superpowers, and abilities easily overtook them. “Ahhh…right…” Timemaster said, “Well, llooks like my TIME here has ended,”

“That’s barely even a pun!” Beast Boy shouted, more enraged with that than the villainy.

Once again, a portal appeared, and once again, they all jumped in after.

This time when Robin looked up, he was alone, under a tree. “Starfire?” He said, looking around. “Raven? Beastboy? Cyborg?” No one answered him.

Immediately concerned he began to wander, trying to get a sense of where he was. “Robin?” A voice came from the trees, “Is that…is that really you?”

“Beast boy?” Robin said, looking up.

Soon enough, a bird came darting out from the branches, launching itself at Robin. “I knew it! I knew you’d come back!”

Robin blinked as the bird became his friend. “Uhh…beastboy, I just saw you.”

“4th dimension, man,” BB said, “I’ve been here for nearly 6 months!”

“Six—“ Robin repeated incredulous, “But how…where…”

“Oh, right, Welcome to Ancient Greece!” He said, holding up his arms. “Raven and I have been scanning the area in case any of you all finally came through.”

“Raven?” Robin asked, “She’s here too?”

Beast Boy fell a bit. “Uh…yeah. She’s been here for about two years, I think.”

“Two—“ Robins mouth dropped, “But, how—what has she been doing?”

“Oh, all these old greek people think she’s an oracle for the gods,” BB explained, “So she’s been making enough on weird prophecies to get by. And I’ve been eating animal stuff when I can to make it easier.” He flinched at his own words and rubbed the back of his head. “She’s down in the village, she’ll be THRILLED to see you! Come on!”

Beast boy dragged him down through the trees until they came to a small village. If Robin was out of place before, it was nothing compared to now. “ We’ll get you some greek threads, don’t worry.” BB said, “Her temple’s down here.”

When they arrived, Robin was surprised to find a statue in Raven’s image. The purple hair made her easy to identify, sitting beneath it and talking with an old couple, but everything else about her was different. “No, you don’t have to send your son away because he’s fated to kill you, that’ll just make things worse,” She told the man, “Trust me on this. Just care for him, and probably when you’re sick or something, he’ll mercy kill you. Okay?”

“Raven?” Robin asked, perplexed by the long-haired, white robed person before him.

She turned her head, “Robin!”

[phylophe]

A composite piece to @cathcacen’s one-shot. Much shorter, but I want to explore the events from Mae’s perspective, too.

She didn’t come home with you?

He knows it’s not fair to interrogate Iliev when he’s only just returned home, and that he must be terrified at the prospect of having to go back and face his older brothers without his sister around. Still, he allows this instance of selfishness and has the young man summoned to his office. He asks about Laori - how she was when they parted ways, where she’s headed, if she has any messages for them back here in Virkove.

None of it makes sense to him - she found Iliev, went to visit Cel and Ceth in Sharval, and instead of coming home with him…

She went to Westmarch.

Over the next month, he works from morning until night. He falls asleep on his desk, sometimes next to a plate of food that’s gone cold since it was bought and then forgotten. He wakes up with ink smeared on his cheeks and cricks in his neck, and spends his days feeling irritable. Those who works closer with him know that each time the birds arrive from Westmarch, the following day’s paperwork will be damned near illegible. Still, his captains put up with him and take care of the soldiers well enough; they’re all too happy to oblige when their own general offered to pick up their paperwork in exchange for a bit of leave.

When all the work is finished and his captains are contented with his effort to bribe them from revolting against his upcoming acts of irresponsibility, he packs his things, saddles his horse, makes sure Averard - the robin hailed as his familiar - is happily settled in a special compartment amongst his light luggage, and heads for Sharval. To visit my sister, he says, like it’s the most reasonable thing in the world.

His sister - Laori’s best friend since childhood - and brother-in-law are glad to see him, albeit shocked and then impressed by his act of leaving his post as the general of the militia. They can’t really help him on the topic of Laori; they know only as much as Iliev does. On the actual topic of Westmarch, however, their news are a lot more up-to-date:

Westmarch has been reaped; ransacked, ruined. The heights, in particular, where those of status and power used to live, have been reduced to rubble. The residential streets are deserted, the occupants of the houses mostly gone - some fled, some died. Soldiers are constantly dispatched, but most come back in coffins or not at all. Even the family dogs, abandoned in the haste of escape, have turned into mindless beasts out for blood.

And Lars is in the middle of all that. His anxieties are justified. He knew there was more between the lines of her letters.

He stays at Teabun’s Plunder - such was the name Ceth picked for his clinic-cum-farmhouse, named after his horse, of all things - for a week, enjoying as much sleep and food as he can possibly take in, and then boards a ferry across the gulf. He’s asked Averard and his horse, Ermir, to stay with the couple, and told Ceth and Cel that he just really wants to sail and see the water with his own eyes. They may have suspected ulterior motive, but bought the excuse anyway. Big, open bodies of water are something that resonates with his Druidic blood on a special level, and they know it.

But not even the wonder and awe he feels for the turbulent seas and mighty waves, the rolling clouds and persistent rain, can stop the anxiety from gnawing at his insides. Perhaps, he thinks, he will enjoy the trip back more, when he finds his friend and sails across these waters again with her company.

He smells Westmarch before he sees it - the fire is filled with poison, the water with decay, the air with smoke, the earth with death. It makes him feel queasy, but moreso, it pains him to know the spirits that have been his companions and allies have been corrupted.

He feels lonely, seeing the land in such a deformed state, hardly recognisable as the powerful elements that he knows so well. In the face of such foreign powers, He feels lonely, and he thinks of Laori, wonders if she feels lonely, too.

He has appointed himself a mission to protect her against loneliness, and now, more than ever before - more than when her father died, when her brothers fought, when Iliev ran away, when she set off to find him - he wants to be there for her, so she won’t be lonely.

He makes his way through the desolate streets, fights through corpses reanimated with demonic magic, tries to rescue those who manage to survive, only to have some of them turn right in front of his eyes. Others have turned on their own brethren - men killing men out of personal grudges amidst the chaos, and he’s had to stain his hands with human blood.

With each demon he kills, each life he puts to rest, the loneliness grows. As it grows, it drives him towards the one he knows is suffering the same pain.

So he moves on, towards the Cathedral. There, he knows, he will find her. He will find her, and he will protect her from her loneliness.

And in turn, he knows she will protect him from his.

[thegrimwulf]

The House I Called Home

This is a cathartic piece I wrote about my grandmother’s house. With so much time spent with my own thoughts these days, I find it’s easier to process them by getting them out in writing. The following includes mention of death and illness.

There was a home, or I should say, is a home in a place called Birdland. Each road is named after a bird, like bluejay and robin, and there’s a park down the way where I once fell off the seesaw and bruised my thigh so bad I had to walk with a limp for the rest of the day.

The last time I set foot in Birdland I had no idea it would be the last time. That’s usually how that works, after all. You never know when anything will be the last time. 

My grandmother had lived there for the entirety of her sons’ lives. I think she lived there a majority of her life as well. 

Her house had a stone brick wall around the front yard that had patterned holes through them. I have faint memories of using my chubby baby fingers to shove yellow dandelions, bleeding hearts, and clovers into the stones. I used to put ladybugs and snails on the top of the wall when I grew tall enough to even look over it.

The driveway was a steep decline towards the house. I remember people always parked outside the garage, never inside it. 

It’s funny when you grow up in a routine of going to your grandmother’s house, even when your family moved a province away and had to drive for two days to visit. The long road trip ending with hands undoing your carseat and lifting you out. You run to the little metal gate that you just can’t figure out how to open yet because you’re not yet tall enough to reach over the bars and open it.

As you get older, you stay awake the whole trip and you watch the environment around you change. You remember landmarks, you notice the small changes like spray paint on fences. You remember the alleyway your family takes to get into Birdland. You imagine what it would’ve been like when your parents were children. You let yourself out of the car and you open the gate, which seems smaller every time you visit.

And your grandmother comes out and greets you with kind eyes and her raspy voice. She had these big wireframe glasses and short grey hair. She always wore dangly earrings. No matter how many times I saw her, she never seemed to change. I think that’s why I liked the house. Nothing really seemed to change.

The majority of the house was carpeted in this 70s orange/yellow carpet. I remember how I’d stand at the landing, just inside the front door after I had removed my shoes, wiggling my toes against the ground. 

There were two sets of stairs from the entrance landing. One went down to the basement, which terrified me as a child. The other was a steep incline with narrow steps to the main floor. I used to push slinkys down those steps.

The main floor consisted of a living room to the right, connected to the dining room. The wall over the fireplace had a huge sturgeon fish that my grandfather had caught long before I was born. My mom said if I was born a boy, I would’ve been named after him. My grandfather, not the fish.

My grandmother loved elephants. She loved dolphins as well, but she had so many statues and decor of elephants in that house. Two larger elephants stood beside the fireplace and a whole array decorated the mantle and even the dinner table. She’d let her grandchildren play with them all, regardless of how delicate those precious items were. I think we knew how delicate they were. I only recall one ever breaking and I’m not entirely convinced it was one of the children that did it.

If you continued straight from the stairs, instead of turning off, you’d enter the kitchen, and further still, the door that led to the large balcony with steep steps into the backyard. 

But if you went left instead, you’d go down a narrow hallway towards bedrooms and a bathroom and rooms made secret by a child’s imagination.

The whole house smelt distinctly like her. More recently, I’ve found it similar to lavender incense. That deep herbal illuminated by smoke. Years of my grandmother smoking and her perfume clung to every inch of the house. It was a smell I came to associate with home. I have a sweater of hers that still smells like her.

Oftentimes when we’re asked to think of memory, we think of imagery. What we’ve perceived with our eyes, the way the colours saturated, the way we peered through squinted eyes during a bright day, the way those flowers looked haphazardly squished between those stones. Visually, I can recall the entirety of that house; the paint, the carpet, the furniture, the walls.

We all know that when we think of a memory without prompt, we associate them with the other senses as well. The feeling of the carpet beneath my toes, the smell of mint after a cigarette, the creaking of a house settling, the taste of the sea salt on food that I was convinced tasted better than normal table salt, the way the air conditioner felt coming up from the floor vents as I stared out the front window with my grandmother. 

So many years were spent going to that house, it’s funny to admit I grieved for that house after my grandmother sold it. A house she had lived in for forty or more years, a house my dad was raised in, a house I had visited for roughly fifteen years of my life, almost to the point that it was a second home. 

I associated that house with my grandmother.

When she packed her things and moved a province away from that house to move in with my family, it was an odd feeling. I was happy to have her live with us. She had spent so many summers visiting us, visiting my cousins. It was a ritual.

My grandmother passed away a few months after moving in with us.

The summer she came to live with us, we packed into the truck and descended into the U.S. We followed the west coast almost all the way down to the Mexican border before we looped around and came up through Nevada, Utah, Idaho, and Montana. We did so much during that trip, it felt wild to experience all those things in a whirlwind of such a short time frame. 

We surprised her by swimming with dolphins, a thing that had been on my grandmother’s bucket list for years. The woman had a love for dolphins, what can I say. We met so many wonderful and wild people. We saw so many cool places, listened to so much music, and laughed, and sang, and argued.

It was the arguing that raised the red flags. That and the headaches. She was changing. She was getting tired. She was getting sick.

It was around September/October that she got the diagnosis. Lung cancer. She had quit smoking quite a while before she sold her house and moved in with us. The doctors asked if she wanted to know how much time she had left. She told them to not give her a timeframe. It progressed, as terminal things tend to do. 

The memories began to shift from a 70’s era home with orange carpet and magenta paint and amber lighting to sterile floors and fluorescent lights and machinery beeps. 

There was a stairwell my sister and I would go to when things got tough. It was positioned on the outside wall of the hospital and the whole thing was encapsulated with glass. We’d sit on one of the landings, dangle our feet off the edge, and peer out over the cityscape. Our evenings were spent eating pulled pork poutines from the hospital’s food court and singing in the stairwell. It had amazing acoustics.

I remember the way the doctor asked my sister and I to leave the hospital room that one day. I remember the prolonged amount of time we spent in that staircase before my then-boyfriend’s family came and picked us up so we could spend Christmas dinner with them.

I remember watching the tv with them, not seeing what was really playing, and just knowing it had happened.

She died on Christmas, 2012.

It’s strange how time moves after someone has died. It’s a slow lull, where a single week, a single month feels like it’s extended tenfold. And then suddenly seven and a half years have passed but I still remember, as if it were yesterday, the way she would spend hours listening to me tell her the entire plot of the book I just read, word-for-word.

The other day while in the shower, where all good thoughts come from, I thought about her house in Birdland. I found myself wondering if the bathtub was still pink, if the carpet was still there, if the house still smelt like her, if the room’s made forbidden by a child’s curiosity were still closed, if the outside was still painted a strange mixture of grey and magenta. I wondered if the table with the landline was still where I remembered it. I wondered if the stones still walled in the front yard. Was the obnoxious crack in the steep driveway still there? Do people still park there instead of the garage? Do the neighbours still remember her?

I found myself making up a scenario in which I go there just to see who lives there now, as if the door might open and it’ll be a familiar old woman with kind eyes and a raspy voice. 

I’m struck by a moment of sonder when I think about that house. The people that live there now would not know the people that came before. They might’ve seen that dated interior, that magenta paint job, smelt the decades of cigarette smoke in the walls and thought to themselves: This is a fixer-upper. They won’t ever know of the decades not only spent in that house, but lived in that house. 

I hope they’ve made their own memories there and continue to do so. Not to re-write my own memories, but to build off them. I hope they find interesting things in that house that hint towards the ones that came before, that make them ponder the endless possibilities of what had taken place there, the generations that were raised there that they’ll never know the stories of. I hope they leave their own marks for those that come after them.

I hope that they find what I did in the house I called home.

[filosofablogger]

Last night when I was contemplating how we should spend our time together this morning, I thought that it’s been several weeks since we’ve travelled together and maybe now, before the snows come, would be a good time for it.  So, I checked into some things and I think you’ll enjoy the places we’re going to visit today!  So, hop aboard the Filomobile and let’s go to …

Krong Ban Lung, Cambodia!  There is a simply gorgeous lake here, but also a couple of interesting tidbits.It’s believed that 4,000 years ago, a volcanic eruption created a crater that, over time, filled with water. The lake was once surrounded by thick forest on all sides, but today only a thin layer remains, with most of the land having been farmed.

The waters of Yeak Laom are crystal clear, and they stand in stark contrast with the bright green in the background—if you visit during or shortly after the rainy season. Exotic birds and butterflies are common sights, and wild pigs may also come around.

Although the lake is considered sacred by the local people, swimming or playing in the water is common for both locals and tourists. Wooden docks with steps have been built to facilitate access. In 2018, bureaucratic procedures were started to register Yeak Laom and the land around it as state land to better protect the environment. Other measures to protect the lake forbid people from using detergents, gambling, or having arguments while in the lake.  Okay, now the detergents I get, but gambling or arguing???In February 2016, Princess Maha Chakri Sirindhorn of Thailand was planning to pay a visit to Yeak Laom, and in preparation for her visit, as toilets are not common in the area, a special toilet was constructed for the princess to use during her visit.  An air-conditioned toilet.  At a cost of $40,000.  That she never used.  That was thrown away after her two-hour visit, during which the urge never hit.It took 10 labourers 19 days to build the eight-metre square toilet.  It has silver railings up its white-washed steps and an all-white tiled roof.  This area of Cambodia being a particularly poor region, I’m sure this toilet is far more luxurious than most of the homes in the five villages that surround the lake.  The building was allowed to remain after the princess’ visit, but the toilet was disassembled and thrown out.  Why?

“If you have a king—well, just, normal people can’t use the king’s toilet.”

Ah, arrogance is world-wide, isn’t it?  But isn’t this lake just beautiful?

Next I thought we’d travel over to France … Équihen-Plage, France, to be precise, for I am told there are some interesting holiday homes made of boats.  Upside down boats, that is.  You’ve heard of houseboats, yes?  Well these are upside-down boat houses!  Ah … we have arrived … let’s take a look …Équihen-Plage is a fishing port and farming village some 3 miles south of Boulogne on the English Channel coast with a population just under 3,000.  The tradition of the boat houses began after World War I when old boats unworthy for the sea were dragged up to high ground and turned upside down. The hull, which now became the roof, was covered in tar to ensure that it was watertight. A door cut out on the sides provided entry, while windows let in air and light. Even then, the interior was dark and stuffy. The entire length of the boat served as a single room. Space for cooking and sleeping were shared.

During the Second World War, nearly all the boathouses got destroyed, but their legacy lingered on. In the 1990s, about sixty years after their disappearance, the village decided to revive the ancient heritage and erected a couple of upturned boat houses and fitted them with modern facilities to entice tourists. They can be rented now with prices starting from about three hundred Euros, or $340 USD.

All this traveling is making me a bit hungry … what about you?  Ready for a little bite before we head to our last stop?  Let’s just pop over to Nottingham … yes, the place of Robin Hood and the evil sheriff, but that isn’t the theme of the restaurant we’re going to.  Remember the Edgar Allen Poe story, The Pit and the Pendulum?  My dad read that one to me when I was … oh, probably 7 or 8 … and I had nightmares for days … er, nights.  Anyway, in the town of Nottingham is a restaurant named The Pit and the Pendulum that sounds intriguing.

Wow … this place is creepy, isn’t it?  But it’ll be fun.  Let’s take a peek at the drink menu …

Y’know … on second thought … I’m not all that hungry after all … perhaps we can grab a pack of crackers on our way to …

The former mining town of St. Blazey in Cornwall, England, home of the world’s largest greenhouse. For fifty years, a clay mine on the edge of the English town had slowly been abandoned, until in the late 1990s when a new concept was proposed for the area called Project Eden. A near polar opposite to the crater left by the old mine, the Eden Project was designed as a massive greenhouse complex, consisting of two biomes bubbling off of the ground and reflecting both a tropical and Mediterranean climate.  After the deep depression left from the mine was filled in with thousands of tons of soil, construction began and the two largest greenhouses in the world were created over two and a half years. Inside the hexagonally-patterned biomes are over one million different plant species, each one reflecting the climates of their respective biomes.The Tropical Biome features rubber plants, bananas, and bamboo stalks towering above visitors in the nearly four-acre dome. The Mediterranean Biome is only 1.6 acres, but is similarly filled to capacity with olive plants and grape vines.Along with stunning flora, cascading waterfalls and footpaths wind past massive boulders and ponds and even a few statues can be found carefully placed around the Mediterranean biome. Although the greenhouses are the central attraction of the complex, the grounds of the Eden Project are also covered in temperate plants that can grow in an uncovered atmosphere. 

And now, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m tired and ready to go home, perhaps for a 10-minute nap, a hot cup of coffee, and a bit of time spent with a good book.  I hope you’ve enjoyed our little jaunt today … we’ll do it again soon!  Have a great weekend … don’t forget, just 24 days ‘til Christmas … better get shopping!  I have mine mostly finished … no muss, no fuss … all done online! 

Saturday Surprise — A Little Jaunt Last night when I was contemplating how we should spend our time together this morning, I thought that it’s been several weeks since we’ve travelled together and maybe now, before the snows come, would be a good time for it.