#talks of death

[dcxdpdabbles]

What if Skulker was Willis Todd all along? (Prompt)

Skulker is one of many ghosts who do not remember his time alive. In fact, it was odder for those formed from deceased beings to have memories, as their final moments shaped their ghost. Ember burned in a fire, but she could not remember where, when, or how that fire happened. Johnny 13 and Kitty were on a motorbike when they died, but they do not know where they had been heading or what had caused their accident.

Spectra feeds on human misery, but why that made her young and beautiful is a mystery to her. All Box Ghost could recall was the call of the cube-shaped spaces and the flashing word "Beware" before he popped up in the Realms.

Most ghosts hated not knowing, like Johnny 13, Young Blood, and Ember. This fueled their urge to run to the human world and find answers. While there, they desperately attempted to win the humans' acknowledgment.

Maybe they thought that if the living paid attention to them, they wouldn't fade away, even if none of them knew their names.

It was something Skulker never understood. He was dead. There was no changing that fact. Why would he pine for a life he could not remember and never hold? Why would he allow his eternal existence to be wasted chasing a light in an unknown darkness?

For the first few days, months, and years, time was strange in the Realms; it was aimless and meaningless. Skulker had formed as an unfinished ghost, barely avoiding being a blob ghost. He isn't sure why, and none of the very few medical specialists in the Realms understood either.

Millions of locations had doctors and medical knowledge, but most citizens of the Infinite Realms were not the kindest to outsiders. Skulker learned early on that one didn't just approach a territory for aid. Not unless you were the Ghost Child.

The only tribe that had a theory was the Far Frozen. They had allowed Skulker to consult them, but the Yetis were not exactly welcoming to Outsiders. They only spoke and aided ice-core ghosts, so even though they might have figured out what was wrong with him, the yetis had refused to conduct any treatment past some basic testing.

"You sent your Core Ectoplasm away." The large Yeti told him. They had refused to grant Skulker the honor of learning their names. He wasn't worthy enough with his barren core.

"What do you mean I sent it away?"

"Exactly that. You sent what should have helped take shape somewhere else when you were forming." The Yeti considers the charts with narrow eyes. "It looks like it was a last thought before you died. Pity, but this is what was left, and that's why you will look like this forever. You might have been powerful, but Fate had different plans."

Skulker had been trying to process that while the Yeti hummed. "Well, if anything else, we can put you to good use."

That caused his head to snap up. "What do you mean?"

"Our young need to practice hunting, and you will be the perfect target for the smallest ones." The Yeti's sharp smile was as cold as the land which it held from. "Do make the chase a good one for a being as little as you."

Skulker had barely escaped that hell hole with his Core intact. As the yeti's children howled and sneered behind him, he was suddenly hit with the thought.

The little guy is always the prey in this hellish existence. No matter how hard you try, how much you drink, gamble, or swindle, you can not rise above your station.

The words feel like a distant dream but are as real as fact.

It filled him with rage. He doesn't know where the resentment came from, but when Skulker reached the edge of the Far Frozen territory, he vowed to never be anyone else's prey again.

Skulker would be the Realm's greatest hunter, and no one would know his proper form. They would cower when they saw him, not snicker and dismiss. It took him years to build the perfect body, but he had plenty of time in the Realms.

He never allowed where his Core Ectoplasm went to cross his mind again as years passed and his prey grew more immense, dangerous, and fun to chase. Even the Ghost Child's insufferable ability to evade him did not make him think about it.

That was until the Welp ran off to another human city, and when Skulker had rightfully gone to claim his pelt, he found himself staring at a young man who held his Core Ectoplasm. There he was, walking on the street like the other humans, staring right back at the battling ghosts with an open jaw.

He was at the most in his mid-twenties, built similarly to Skulker's battle suit, but had soft blue eyes and the strangest white streak of white in his hair. He had no idea who the human was, as there was no way he was worth anything for a good hunt, but Skulker could feel his Core Ectoplasm holding the man together.

That was his existence, and that should have given him a proper ghost body being used as glue to a random human who wasn't even a Halfa!

Why had he sent it to him when he had died?

Skulker was so shocked that he hadn't even thought to dodge when the Ghost child threw back his mini-missiles at him. The explosion had sent him flying in the opposite direction of the man, which was just about the time the humans finally started to panic and run amok.

Skulker lost the stranger in the crowd, but now that he knew he was out there, he would stop at nothing to find answers.

(Willis Todd was not a kind man. He had been horrible to the mother of his child, to his son, and to his wife. He had been born at the rotten bottom of Gotham's social ladders, where the little guys were used and discarded like toilet paper. He tried to get himself out of it by any means but something always beat him back into place.

He grew bitter.

He loved his son and wife, but his anger could not be controlled. It was louder than his love ever could be. It always guided his hand and hurt everything around him until his son flinched whenever he entered his room, and his wife lost herself to the needles.

Still, Willis could not bring himself to let the anger go. He hated himself even more as days passed, and his rage grew bigger and bigger until he could no longer think without snapping.

He was arrested, slipped through the cracks in the system, and wrongfully marked for dead among the cells. He knew no more of his wife or son until years later when Jason's bright-eyed face appeared in the newspaper. Willis had been shocked to find out Catherine had died while he was aware and Jason had lived on the streets. Now, he was one of the sons of one of the wealthiest men alive.

Willis's anger was still there, but so was his heartbreak. There was something wrong with him. Something that would have choked and slaughtered Jason if he stuck around. So he folded the newspaper, put it back on the tabletop for another inmate to read, and swore to himself that he would never go near Jason again, even if one day he was released.

Years later, he reads a week-old paper to find out Jason had been killed in an explosion while overseas. His body was so severely damaged that Bruce Wayne had buried him in a fast funeral, and Willis hadn't even known his son was dead.

The rage had snapped.

It clouded his mind as he slammed his head over and over again on the wall until nasty cracks were heard. The blood dripping down his face and over his tongue drowned out the taste of his tears.

The guards tried to stop him, but it was too late.

His last thought before death took him was, "I would give anything to take Jason's place; if any Todd deserves to breathe again, it should be him. If I could just give him what he needed to live."

The second Willis' eyes closed miles away, Jason's snapped open within a coffin, and the gentle green glow of his skin brought the problems of a man who loved him but only as much as he could)

[estro-gem]

Kinger x Ragatha (Platonic): Misplaced, but present

Author's note:

This is a long awaited duo (at least for me) and I loved figuring them out when I first thought of Oasis. I hope you enjoy these sad saps as much as I enjoyed writing them. Ragatha gets to shine in her role and you get a peek into Kinger's mind.

And you get some of that sweet, sweet ANGST.

Warnings:

Angst

Delusion

Existentialism

Dementia

PTSD

Talks of death

Hurt/Comfort

SUMMARY:

Kinger had seen everything, but he has a hard time telling facts from fiction. Fading in and out of reality, he is suddenly brought into a period of clarity when a good friend came for a visit.

MISPLACED, BUT PRESENT

Kinger loathed the vast, expansive void.

He always felt so lonely, even though he was never alone - cursed with the company of something he couldn't see. Something big and incomprehensible. It - they - they were watching him; he could feel it.

The tingling sensation of eyes burning into him from all directions. It felt like an entire nest of termites chewing their way further and further into him. Little feather-like feet that pitter-pattered all over his wooden shell that he came to know as 'skin,' that left a trailing hot blaze of stinging in their wake.

It didn't matter how much they ate away from him; their hunger never ceased. There was somehow, always, more of him for them to feast on. It burned. It felt like it would never end.

It was his own personal hell.

A hell that blinded him from them who were always watching him. Them, who found the ever-amusing entertainment in his suffering; never ceasing their gaze. Always watching. Ever-consuming. The king was sure that while he couldn't hear them, they were laughing. It was echoing from all around him and yet the silence was as deafening as his claustrophobic void was dark.

A part of the chess-piece's mind was untouched by the madness of his tormented soul, but it did little to lessen the burden of existing. All it could do, was nothing but aid him with empty sympathy.

Sometimes, it was a quiet voice that whispered to him, drowned out by the raging silence that hummed into his skull. He would try his best to answer, but it was like having a conversation with someone behind a thick wall of glass. He usually reverted to speaking about whatever came to mind - be it the works and manners of the digital plain or how the flapping rate of a hummingbird's wings compares to that of a honeybee.

Anything to drown the dreaded, buzzing hum that was the silence within his empty void.

Anything to silence the sound of his own blood rushing through ears.

Then again, there was another corner within his mind that caused hyper-realistic halutionations. Those were his favourite! At first, the experiences were something he dreaded - a bizzare world that his mind conjured from his descent into madness, which farmed the visions, sights and sounds that would have haunted his dreams, were it necessary for him to sleep. The world was vivid, bright and colourful; inhabited by creatures - similar, yet unlike him. They were nothing short of monsters, aliens, and yet they were so human, it scared him.

But soon, he welcomed them - the halusionations. They acted like him. They were just as scared as he was. They were… human. At least, that's what they insisted - and Kinger knew that it all was just a ruse of his mind losing a grip on reality. It wasn't like the king was actually stuck in a Digital Circus.

That would be ridiculous.

But, oh, was it fun to play make-believe! In the void - in reality - he had nothing but darkness and the overwhelming silence pulsating into his ears.

In the Digital Circus, he had friends. Sure, they were friends of his mind's own making, but they were his! And they resembled humans - and that is what he desperately craved the most. It made the long periods in the nothingness all the more worth it when one of his friends just… POPPED into existence. When HE popped into the makings of his deranged mind.

The Circus became a home away from home.

He couldn't wait to see what his mind would conjure up next. WHO it will conjure up next… He dreaded, however, who he would LOSE next.

Yes, as much as he hated it, just as his imaginary friends could come into existence, they could apparently, also permanently leave - destroy themselves. He called it abstraction, because he didn't know what else to call it. To his surprise, his other friends would mourn the ones they lost… and he, too, would suffer the heartache, much to his confusion. Those who abstracted, never came back to him - just as it would be in real life.

They were so human… but they just couldn't be real, could they? Kinger was just slowly growing more insane - that's what it was.

"Kinger?"

The chess piece jumped with a startled yelp. In a blink, the nothingness he so often found himself in - his reality - ripped away from his mind's grasp. He frantically looked into the direction of the voice that chimed so clearly, finding one of his oldest friends standing in his open doorway.

Right! Last time he was in the Circus, he was in his room! He couldn't remember why, though…

"Ragatha!" Kinger said surprised, "You startled me!" The doll cringed in a way that could easily be mistaken for an awkward smile, "Sorry about that. You drifted off again."

"So it seems!" Kinger played along, relaxing into the fantasy that was this Circus, "Did you need anything?"

"A favour, if you wouldn't mind?" She asked, hugging one of her arms to her side, while Kinger shook his head and waved his hands almost annoyed with how she even bothered to ask. Ragatha walked into his space, clumsy and careless, as she took one of his hands and sat at the desk in front of his mirror. The doll looked back, knowing that Kinger would still be standing right where she left him, as his floating hands could be pulled away from his body for an indefinite distance.

He would have blinked if he could, before he maneuvered his way to stand behind her, also looking into the mirror. When the ragdoll let his hand go, he took ownership of it once again, only to place both hands, firmly, onto each of Ragatha's shoulders. He could feel her body melt as she sighed at the feeling of his hands resting on her.

The king piece looked down, expecting her to tilt her head back and lean against him to look back up at him. Instead, he was met with the sight of Ragatha's red locks.

Something just wasn't right with them…

Ah, yes, of course!

"Where's your bow?" the king asked confused.

"Jax was trying to being funny again… It got plucked off." Ragatha scoffed, before asking meekly, "Could you tie it for me?"

Kinger sighed in esperation with an annoyance that didn't mean serious harm, "Oh, when I get my hands on that boy-"

"-you'll thank him for what he does for us?" Ragatha smirked up at Kinger while holding up the blue ribbon for him to take. Instead of doing as she suggested, the king gently cupped both of Ragatha's cheeks, causing her to soften her previously challenging look.

"I don't want him to hurt you." Kinger spoke earnestly, using his thumbs to gently swipe at the area under the doll's eyes, as if he was wiping away tears. Ragatha's heart swelled at his sentiment.

"He doesn't want to hurt me either."

"And yet he does. Over and over." Kinger's grip tightens only slightly, with the intent to make her pay attention, "He doesn't even bother apologizing."

Ragatha sighed, tired, as her body went slack and limp while fully leaning against the large chess piece behind her. They have been over this countless times. It always played of similarly, but it always turned out to be a recurring theme.

"Kinger…" Ragatha took a breath to prepare for the conversation she was about to have, just as she does every few months, "We all do what we have to do."

"At what cost?" he challenged, "Is what we are doing really worth it?"

"I know it's less than ideal, King." Ragatha said, choosing to look at the chess piece's bed in the reflection of the mirror - it's been a while since she could look at the woman that stared back every time she looked into a mirror.

"You don't act like you know that."

"Because it's not how I'm supposed to act if we want this to work." Ragatha said sympathetically, ignoring how deranged she sound to herself. Nothing in the Circus was a choice.

It was a MUST.

"Kinger, this group is the longest we've ever had anyone stay with us." Ragatha spoke, minding her tone, "Isn't the proof in the product, despite the cost? We are all still here. We are all flawed and stressed and human. We combinded our strengths and we focus on the present, don't we? Look at where it brought us now, Kinger! We are still human. Everyone is still here."

Kinger's voice was deathly quiet, adorned with a somber tone, "Not everyone."

Ragatha wanted to counter him, but she couldn't look past the fact that he was right. She slumped forward as the king piece busied his hands to brush the scarlet locks of wool into order. At least as orderly as he could get them. They always had a mind of their own, even when Ragatha herself was the embodiment of the word, 'tame.' The doll sensed her dear friend's distress and jumped into her role to soothe the dangerous itch in his mind that caused Kinger to think too much.

Too far ahead.

Like Kaufmo did.

She reached over her shoulder to grab one of Kinger's hands and idly fiddle with his fingers while holding the hand in her lap. He didn't fight her, allowing her to express the dark depths of herself she could rarely show the others. Kinger had seen the entirety of Ragatha, just as she had seen the entirety of Kinger. Despite her role, the water spring, the sign of life and hope - the soothing cool caress of comfort in the scorching heat of the barren desert of a Circus, Ragatha's concern and fear laid deep beneath her glossy surface.

With Kinger, she could show herself from a different perspective and she knew that he wouldn't shy away or grow concerned. She was their comfort, just as she needed comfort.

He had seen it all, before any of them had seen the truth.

They lost someone.

Someone of value - someone that valued those who surrounded him. A keystone to the oasis. Gone. Ripped from their broken family that had it's faults, but still remained functional. Even if it was just barely.

"I wonder how Gangle is doing now that he is gone." Kinger said, lost in thought. Ragatha placed her blue ribbon into Kinger's hand, before letting it go and allowing him to pull it back. He began to section the wooly locks to tie the ribbon into it.

"I think she's okay for now, but I'm sure she is still in shock. Maybe she feels lost." Ragatha said, keeping her gaze low, not willing to look herself in the eye, "At least the newbie and her shenanigans are distracting her."

"I don't see how this will end well." Kinger said, worry evident in his voice, "I can't imagine what it must be like - knowing that you have a book with the answers of the world in the palm of your hand… but it's written in a language that you don't understand."

"Heh." Ragatha huffed, "He really had a way with his resources, didn't he?"

"What good is a looking glass without a pair of eyes to peer through them?"

"Ok, now you are just saying things to act smart!" Ragatha laughed, feeling the gentle tug of Kinger's hands working to tie the ribbon, completely leave her head. Kinger paused briefly, before he caved to laugh along with his friend.

"Maybe I am... maybe I'm not!"

Ragatha smiled incredulously, looking at his reflection before her, "She'll be ok. We will all be ok. We'll just take things slow and steady - one day at a time. Like we did in the old days."

"Please don't remind me of my age…" Kinger sighed.

"OUR age! I was there too, you know?"

She was there too.

She was there for a very long time. Of all of them, she was there the longest; by his side. She was the only one left since before the oasis began. Their bond never grew beyond friendship, but it was all they needed to remain together.

The king looked at the doll with a warm fondness that ached in his chest, "I know I'm not a good person for saying this… but… I'm so happy it was Kaufmo."

The doll's eyes widened with horror, but before she could even think to say anything, Kinger spoke again; his voice cracked and weary, "I don't want to lose you too."

The words died in Ragatha's throat.

In the blink of an eye, she jumped up and threw her arms around the freakishly tall chess piece. He was quick to reciprocate, but he broke into trembling sobs that were drowned by the plush of Ragatha's shoulder.

"Shhh, shhhh! It's ok. I'm not going anywhere." Ragatha said, trying her best to soothe her oldest friend.

"She promised me!" He said, his words so broken apart by his sobs, that Ragatha could barely understand him.

She promised.

"I know, King. I know." the doll said, numbing herself from the sympathy and empathy she felt, to prevent the tears from rushing down her cheeks too, "I can't make that same promise Queenie made to us."

Ragatha pulled away to hold onto her dear friend's face and look him in the eyes. He saw her's, set ablaze with a spark only she could possess. She was still as she set the world - her reality - aside, only to look him - straight at him.

Ragatha pulled him down, to kiss his forehead, then looked him in he eyes once again; speaking with an even tone she didn't even know that she possessed, "I can only promise you this."

To hell with hallucinations, Kinger thought to himself. He wanted to believe that there really was a woman in front of him. That there really was a friend about to make him a promise unlike the deceit that Queenie subjected him to. He wish he could hate her for leaving him behind, but he was too tired. He was too soft.

I loved her too much.

"What is it?" Kinger asked his friend, dreading the answer.

Ragatha swallowed back a wave of emotion that caused a stinging sensation behind her eyes, before she vowed to him,

"You'll go first, I promise."

Kinger stared down at her, as if challenging her to back out from her promise, but to his surprize, she didn't. She matched his gaze and stood her ground.

He really was a bad person.

Because a wave of relief crashed over him, forcing him to his knees. The chess piece clutched her skirts as he hid his face in her chest, like a child, but the doll stood firmly with her feet rooted to the floor, finally allowing the tears to flow down her cheeks.

Her voice was still and steady as ever;

"I'll be right here with you, until you go first."

Fan art/comic related to this story: (CLICK HERE TO SEE)

Oasis: TADC AU list

Masterlist

[starres-stuff]

FFXIV Writes 2023 | Day 3 | Sun

“Can every day be like this?” Vi’s voice had taken on a dreamy note. It was the middle of the day and somehow she had not only been successful at convincing Clement to not only stay home instead of going to Corethas but to lay with her in the Sunbeams pouring in the window at Cenodocia’s house like two oversized cats ready for an afternoon nap. She had even put off Choreographing two numbers for an upcoming show just to enjoy this time with him.

“We have to work, beloved.” The Corethan chuckled, running his hand through her long fiery hair and pulling her close. “Everyone needs discipline in their lives, order in chaos. Could you imagine a Star where no one worked?”

“Oh, I have imagined it many times over.” Vi protested, her legs stretching and her toes curling, fingers reaching out to tug at the blanket that had only lightly covered them up until the moment she pulled it up. “Then I could just lay in the sun with you and Kovalt every day. We would not have to worry about what time each of us will be home, or if I will be out of the studio in time for dinner. I would not find myself concerned that the Airship got you safely to Coerthas or that some bastard did not jump Kovalt while he was doing his rounds.” A pout appeared on her features as she rattled off the various what-ifs that consumed her mind throughout the day.

“And we would have absolutely no responsibility in our lives. We would become bored over time and before long what would we have to talk about.” Clement’s head dropped lower to place a kiss right on the crown of her own and then he said softly. “Do not worry so much Viviane. While there are many things that can go wrong, we will always come home. That I promise you.” There was such sincerity in his voice that Vi couldn’t help but nod her head, she knew well that they would both come home, they always did. Some nights it was later than others, and some mornings too but they always came home. It made her dread the day they did not. The day either of them left the Star and traveled back to the Aetherial Sea to await their rebirth.

“I trust in that my love.” She said softly, raising her head to look into Clement’s mismatched eyes, the way the sun highlighted his natural blonde hair with streaks of what looked like gold to her made her suck in her breath with a small gasp of wonder, even his features seemed to glow when the Sun touched him despite his darker skin. Often she thought he was made of the golden light the way it complimented him and in the same thought, she believed Kovalt was made from the silver light of the moon.

“I know you both will always come home, but I also know this Star has so many tragedies that I do not wish this, us, to be one of those things.” Vi’s brow creased in thought, as a sleepy yawn appeared on her face. The warmth that filled her from both the light that streamed in the window and the feeling of being wrapped up in Clement’s arms began to lull her into this peaceful place where if she was not careful she could sleep the day away without another thought to what could possibly go wrong.

“And still I will watch over you.” his voice had taken on a soft note “You will never be alone again, even when the day comes that we do return to the Sea. We will always be with you.” His hand moved from her hair to touch first her forehead and then right above her heart. “This is where we live now and nothing can end that but us. Keep your faith, love, even if we do end up parted our spirits will find each other again.” Vi could only stare at him then, there was just something about the way he spoke to her that took away anything that clouded her soul. The most exciting part of it was that she felt like she had heard the words of many lives that were behind them. The three of them were destined to just keep finding each other and no one, not even them could convince her otherwise.

“You are the light in my darkness, you know.” Vi finally managed to say, wrestling with her tongue to get it to say what she wanted was always a chore but it was worth it, just to get out how she was feeling. “Before you, I was not a very optimistic woman. There was no middle of the road. There was only darkness and light. Since you entered my life I have begun to see the shadows that are created when both touch equally and in balance.

A light blush took her cheeks, and her eyes closed. This was the perfect day, and he was the perfect man for her. They both were. “You are my Sunshine, Clement. I hope you know that I know I am not the best at telling either of you how much I love you and what you mean to me.” The words trailed off after that, one last yawn and finally, she drifted off into sleep, leaving Clement to watch her sleep and tighten his arms around her; eventually joining her in her dreams.

[musicnotewirt]

Angst moments of Bill haunting and Possessing Wirt

.

.

.

.

.

.

,

,

.

TW: Blood and Sharp Objects in skin!! Sewer slide attempt-ish

(below)

.

.

.

.

.

,

,

,

,

.

.

.

.

.

[imagine-the-energon]

Jesus Christ on a pogo stick, why did the AI choose that of all things to ask?!

Also hello everyone! I'm not back, but I'm talking to this character AI for my self-insert fic and it's... it's certainly something... We somehow got to talking about religion lmao help my agnostic ass can't escape.

[chaoticstateofaffairs]

It…it was ok. Everything was ok when we left yesterday morning and it was ok when I went back for my thing and on the way home got a call from my grandma that my dad was sick and something was wrong.

This is the 3rd time he could have died. Once before I was born, he fell out of a tree, 2nd I was 12-13 and he had a heart attack and now, he has a horrible infection in his legs.

I’m exhausted, I’m a worrier and it’s…it’s hurting me. All I have to know is if he’s going to be ok, that’s all I need to know but they aren’t sure yet.

[ink-the-artist]

"Work with animals is a source of suffering to all of us. We treat them like babies who cannot speak."

[yourfandomfae]

Fandom: Garden Story Characters: Plum and Mandy(sort of). Warning: Talk of death and end game spoilers. WC: 1k+ Notes: Post-game, canon compliant, gen fic, gender-neutral language. Whumptober2024, Whumptober. Prompt set no. 17: "we had a good run." https://archiveofourown.org/works/61091884

Summary: Shivering a bit, Plum blew some warm air onto their hands, rubbing them together then pulling their scarf a little tighter. The biting cold was hard on Plum’s joints, but a final, personal talk with a long lost friend and fellow protector was needed

“Us Guardians had a good run, didn’t we?” The elderly Plum said, already knowing the answer. Plum sat beside the statue of Mandy; a plain wooden chair left there from a previous visit thanks to Concord. Even back then there was no way Plum could sit on the snowy ground without problems. Back then, with the aid of a cane, standing for a bit would have been possible, but Plum was much older now and things were so, so different.

There were other statues of Mandy, including in Plum’s own home of Spring Hamlet. However, this one was special- the last place Guardian Mandy’s spirit resided before becoming one with The Grove itself(probably still absorbing knowledge and things beyond their own current comprehension).

Shivering a bit, Plum blew some warm air onto their hands, rubbing them together then pulling their scarf a little tighter. The biting cold was hard on Plum’s joints, but a final, personal talk with a long lost friend and fellow protector was needed- Plum could barely make the journey as it was, knowing it would not be possible another time. Plum was an elder, not far away from returning to The Grove in spirit too.

Maybe Plum would even be able to talk to Mandy and the other guardians again in-person- if they had not succeeded in their long journey.

Maybe.

Of the eight of them, six had set off into the sea(searching for mana for The Grove that was being over ran by the rot eating it alive) and were presumed dead by most but a loyal, incredibly dedicated few, that would hear nothing but them returning alive one day.

Luna from Summer’s End came to mind, confidently telling the same thing to anyone that openly expressed their doubts because of how long it had been. “Blue will be back in their own time- enjoying an extra long swim since it’s peaceful now. Guardian Blue is one of the best swimmers out in the sea.”

“That would be nice, wouldn’t it?” Plum mused aloud, an old smile thoughtful. “For me, this will be my final visit, Mandy. I couldn’t make this trip without assistance from Guardian Concord.”

The young guardian that united them all again and was able to reach Mandy before Mandy became one with The Grove itself. Plum had held absolute faith back then that the greenling Kindergarten Keeper would make a great guardian.

Concord was a little bit older now, still doing the title proud and had others appointed as protectors of their respective homes. It was fondly similar to how Guardian Cane made Plum a guardian all those long years ago.

“When you met our new guardian, Concord was only a greenling and still learning…. During that unfortunate time.” Plum spoke the last part with heaviness. So much pain and loss had come from back then. The heartache it caused never truly went away. There were scars from the rot without having to look far in any of the lands and in the hearts of the residents.“ When the others left, it was just us and you were taking every step to commune with The Grove itself. Doing the only thing left you could think of. You never gave up on us or The Grove.”

They still miss you terribly, speaking of your name in smiles. They feel your spirit in your sword.

Plum wanted to say it, but the words never came. It felt too close to admitting the beloved guardian would never return. The same as the others that left even longer ago and Plum did not have the will to say such.

“When the time comes, I can pass peacefully, knowing our home is in good hands. You would be proud, not just of Concord. Our villages have come together and there is true peace. One of the things we fought tirelessly for.” Plum could still easily recall times working together with the others, slaying the rot, braving the distances for research and resources, learning there was a limit to the mana from The Grove.

The talks of the Guardians seeking more mana to repair their home had Plum’s heart hanging heavy with an expression to match. Back then, having some villagers assisting as security, taking watches, and having it down to be under control for a time, it was a mixed decision for that many of them to leave.

Blue was an obvious choice to go. Worst comes, Blue was a gifted swimmer and could return…..one day.

It had been so long, rumors were naturally gossiped about and ones Plum would never entertain seriously. The six that sailed, abandoning their home in hopes to start anew elsewhere.

“I know you heard those rumors too, Mandy. You never believed it for a moment either.” Anytime Mandy caught whispers of it, you could expect to hear defense of their friends, Mandy’s way with words being calming and shutting it down swiftly. “Our friends are still out there, no word of them has ever reached us. Some still wait at the docks for any sign of their return.” In thought Plum held a difficult thought. The villagers of Spring Hamlet would not be waiting for Plum’s return, they never knew the stress others had of not knowing the fate of their Guardians. Plum had been Spring Hamlet’s guardian for a long time and refused to go with their friends on their voyage. When Plum passed, the villagers would know and know Plum’s spirit was back with The Grove, and likely conversing with Mandy in-person.

Plum could never leave Spring Hamlet without a guardian to protect it. Being needed elsewhere at the time, it was why he finally appointed Concord to be the hamlet’s latest protector of the land and of the villagers.

Heavy thoughts and emotions were making the elder Plum tired.

Tired in more than one way.

Plum placed a hand on the statue, silently swearing there was a warmth from it. Plum smiled.

“It’s time for me to go. Our home is in good hands, Mandy.” Using the cane, Plum stood with shaky legs, taking a moment to get balanced, breathing out a tired sigh, already feeling the weight of upcoming trek back home.

Taking some cautious steps forward to go meet Concord in the next area, Plum looked over to Mandy’s statue one final time.

“I will see you again soon.”

[toss-a-coin-to-your-stan-account]

being a student during peak pandemic was so fucking surreal like. "it's not an excuse to fall behind" I cannot stress enough to you how much A Worldwide Plague Upending Life As We Know It is literally one of The Top Three Reasons to fall behind

[guldaastan]

[sunny-boooo]

The way Zooble cares about Gangle warms my heart so much.

It's so clear they are both important to each other I feel so happy.

[ghost-bxrd]

Headcanon that when Jason so much as says “ow..” on the comms the rest of the batfam immediately assume he must be dying.

[evgar]

kiss of death

graphite and watercolors on paper

[kotse]

@hg-aneh fanart of fanart! i want them to be best friends in the rain and have a slumber party

[hinamie]

unconditionally