#the fact that mushrooms are growing on heads is a reference to mushrooms only growing in darkness and-

[dazzelmethat]

*reaches out my hand and grabs you* I have the power to subject non vocaloid people to pinop..

TW: for flashing lights

Mushroom mother analysis in my tags. ..

[loveaurapearl]

Wild Life SMP connections to Alice in Wonderland

To say Wild life is crazy would be an understatement. It's a fun, silly, chaotic series and I love it. But something I wanted to analyze it was it's connections to Alice in Wonderland. Now... I'm not the first person to make this connection. I'm sure there are tons of people talking to their friends about it or at least thinking about it, but I wanted to put more thought into the connection.

I first have to make people understand why people make think this season is connected to Alice in Wonderland in the first place. The first reference was obvious, the shrinking and growing mechanic of session one and the randomized food of session 2 being a reference to how Alice could shrink and grow by eating mushrooms. Sure Alice didn't eat dirt to fly, but the Mad Hatter and Marchhair were able to eat their silverware and Alice could float thanks to her dress. Secondly, the wild mechanic itself. Wonderland is a world where anything can happen at any time. Where laws have no meaning and to try and understand Wonderland with logic will only hurt your brian. So a world where each session changes the rules of the world is the closest thing a Minecraft server can be to a Wonderland world. Thridly, the life Series itself somehow matches Alice of Human Sacrifice. Link to Animatic that showed everyone this connection: Alice of Human Sacrifice || Life Series Winners Animatic. The life series has always been about made up rules that are more suggestions, but thanks to the Watchers, these worlds have been twisted into a death game where only one winner remains. This is just the only season that leaned into the Wonderland aspects.

(Note: I'm actually NOT that well versed on Alice in Wonderland. I don't know all the characters and I don't know them that well. I only watched the original animated Disney movie, so if I'm missing any connections, please let me know. I just want to make a discussion.) Now, I will only be using 5 characters in this analysis... mostly because I want this to fit in the post and I don't know Alice in Wonderland that well. Anyway, here are the characters. Alice, the Red and White Queen, a little bit about the Red King, the Catapillar, and finally, the Mad Hatter. (Note: the most I got to say will be the Red and Queen segments and the Grand finale, the Mad Hatter.)

First off, who's Alice? Well... whoever the winner of this season is. Alice in the Life series is always the winner, but what kind Alice they are depends on who wins. There's a reason why I referenced Alice of Human Sacrifice, because it doesn't matter who exactly Alice is. I'm just here to connect the other characters of Alice in Wonderland to the lifers because that's more interesting.

The first one I want to discuss the Queen of Hearts and White Queen. Miss 'Off with their heads' and the other one. (Sorry White Queen, but there's a reason the Red Queen is remembered more.) Now, one might want to give the Queen of Hearts role to Pearl and the White Queen to Gem, after all, Pearl is becoming 5' am Pearl again. It's easy to say the one turning Red is the Queen of Hearts. But the thing is, I think it's the other way around. The Queen of Hearts controls the other people through fear and tactics. She is never questioned and controls the people through an iron fist. Pearl... while her teammates trust her and thanks to session three their relationships have become stronger so she's not alone, but they still aren't fully trusting of her. In fact, none of the other lifers see Pearl as a leader, as someone that they should follow. Sure, they don't want to be on her bad side, but she does not control them. Gem, on the other hand, is in full control over a vast majority of the server. Skizz is on her side, the Tuff Guys are on her side, and Renwood Mound is on her side, Scar is still technically family to Gem and Joel, and Gem has a secret alliance with Lizzie. Sure the other Spanners haven't made full alliances with them yet, and Jimmy has been trying to kill Joel all of session 3, but if I would guess to say who controls the server right now, I'd say Gem? And why does everyone, even guys who are on Red, don't attack her? Because they're terrified of her. She killed so many people in Secret life and it's a shield to her. So, if Gem wants someone to lose their head, it's easy for the other lifers to follow her command, after all, they don't want her to do the same to them.

Now, Joel isn't the Red King of Alice. Yes he is the Red King of Last Life, but that has nothing to do with Alice in Wonderland. The Red King in Alice is a Wimp and while Joel is trying to be nicer, he's not a whimp. I don't know who the Red King is, but I'm 90% sure he's not a lifer and I have no idea what character in Alice Joel would be.

The Catapillar would be Scott, they're just cool dudes who know a lot of things and are smart... I... I just wanted to add this in because Scott is the closest thing to the Catapillar and I thought it was neat and I feel like they fit each other's vibs.

Anyway, the final character I wanted to talk about, and the main reason I made this post in the first place. The Mad Hatter. The goofy, carefree man with a hat...and the Character I'm connecting it to is Scar. It's... just Goodtimeswithscar. From the moment I saw Scar's skin, I thought... hey doesn't he look kind of like the mad Hatter. Okay, he doesn't actually look like him, but it was the first thing that came to my mind other than, omg, Scar's skin is amazing. Scar is a whimsical man who loves Disney, so I couldn't help but connect him to a Disney character based off of Alice in Wonderland, and with Scar's hat, it made it easy to connect which character Scar would be. Scar is a silly, man who does silly things like the Mad Hatter. You could say the Bamboozler's campsite is like the Mad Hatter's tea area. But then... Scar saw red and... he's... he's not doing good. Scar's on Red and he's out for blood. So... Scar's no longer the Mad Hatter right? Because being Red would undo all the connections Scar had to the Mad Hatter, right? Well... no. Because there's a Dark Side of the Mad Hatter, it's just only explored with the Batman villain with same name, but a connection is a connection. After all, there's a reason the Mad Hatter is called the MAD Hatter. Sure, in a lot of adaptations, the Mad Hatter is just a silly guy with his silly hat, but with other adaptations like the Batman villain, we see the full terror that a mad man can be. You sympathize with them, but they're still villains, they still need to be stopped.

Scar... Scar has never been the most sane man. If you saw Scar in the Life Series, you see the full extent of the ruthlessness his mind will go. From trying to extort Ren for the Enchanter by threatening him that he would be the first to go if Scar ever turned Red in Third Life; doing it again to Team Best in Last Life; burning down bases in each season; stealing the Enchanter on multiple occasions, even outside of the life series during Grian's, Joel's, and Scar's 50 hours in HARDCORE challenge run; blowing up a ton of people in Limited life while on Yellow, trying to destroy the Mycelium resistance and making an evil lazer (go rewatch season 7 of Hermitcraft, Scar was the villain despite his denial of the situation), eating BDubs, Etho, Doc, and VintageBeef during season 5 of Hermitcraft (No. I'm being serious. Scar and Cub ate the NHO during season 5. Go watch Scar's season 5 of Hermitcraft, it's amazing for the Convex.), and his Villain arc in Secret life. Secret life was the most notable because he tried so to be nice and hinged during Secret season before the Secret Keeper decided to make him the Villain. As Skizz said to Scar when Scar confessed he was trying his best to be hinged, "THIS YOU BEING HINGED?" Scar isn't a mentally stable man. Grian said it best, "I'M STUCK ON A MOUNTAIN WITH A MADMAN!"

Scar is a madman. He's crazy and dangerous when he wants to be... but Scar also tries his best to be the best version of himself. To be nice, and kind, and sweet. It's why Scar didn't see himself as the Villain of Season 7 even while he was making evil lasers that drilled into the Eath to find the Mycelium Resistance's base. And even then he still denied he was a Villain until after the war was over.

Scar is the perfect depiction of both sides of what the Mad Hatter is. He's silly, he's whimsical, and charming. But he's also dangerous, vicious, and cruel. Not only that, but he's a Hatter. In Season 8, he made a hat factory for everyone. Scar is LITERALLY a Mad Hatter.

So yeah, I just wanted to give my thoughts. Hope you like them, and if you have any other lifers you want to connect to Alice in Wonderland and Wild life, make your own post. It'll be fun.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Good evening, I got another idea for your new event

Aces' older brother and grim interaction like "oh, Ace, how you got so tall— agh! It's not Ace" "oh? Oh. Oooh, hello. Isn't it that 'stupid raccoon' my lil' bro was talking about? " "HEY! Don't call THE great Grim raccoon! "

[Referencing this interaction!]

… I like how we’ve come to a silent consensus that Big Bro Trappola is just a taller version of Ace 😂

Fun fact: In the JP fandom, a lot of fans call Ace’s brother “Jack”, a reference to the character “Jack Hearts” from the Villain Recruiters group (part of Tokyo Disney Sea’s Halloween events).

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

You heard Grim's familiar shrill cries echo up from the bottom of a twisting stairwell. Peering down over the banister, you found an auburn-haired boy detaining Grim by the scruff, the poor little beast flailing for freedom. You called out to them as you jogged down the stairs, speaking a name you knew so well: Ace.

As you approached, a realization started to set in—that Ace was far taller than usual. But surely it was the same cheery troublemaker you'd always known. He had the same cheeky smile and bright eyes.

A growth spurt? Or had he defied Riddle's warnings to not eat the dubious mushrooms that grew in the Heartslabyul gardens?

Ace casually raised his free hand to wave as you descended. “Yo.”

“Hey!! Wow Ace, when did you get this tall?” you said teasingly.

The corner of his mouth lifted, amused. You noticed that he had parted his bangs today, and had drawn on his heart much smaller, more of an accessory than a statement piece.

“Well, you know how it is. A growing boy like me’s always got something up his sleeve.”

“M-Minion, there you are!!” Grim sputtered, aggressively kicking his furry feet midair. “Quick, after this imposter!”

“Imposter?”

“Don’t mind him. Little dude’s got his tail in a twist cuz I called him a raccoon.” A wicked grin crept onto Ace’s lips. It was easy and devil-may-care—and Ace was that devil. “Isn’t that right, ta-nu-ki-chan?”

He prodded Grim’s cheek with each singsong syllable. One, two, three, four… and Grim lost it.

“MYAAAH!!” He thrashed about wildly, swiping his paws at his just-out-of-reach captor. “I’m so MAD, I could spit!! When I get my paws on you, I’ll…!”

“Watch it, or you’ll set the whole dorm on fire,” you warned, “and then we’ll have an upset Riddle to deal with.”

“Who, the teapot tyrant? Isn’t he off sipping tea somewhere? I wouldn’t worry about him.”

“Ace!!” You gaped at him, eyes wide. “You talking about him is just going to make Riddle magically manifest to collar you again! It’s like the universe is out to get you at this point.”

“I’m cool with that. I doubt he’ll behead me anyway.”

“What makes you think he won’t?!”

Ace simply shrugged and wiggled his brows—as if daring you to guess. “Let’s just say I don’t think I’m the guy he’d be after,” he said mysteriously with a wink.

“AHHHHHHHH!!”

You startled at the scream that tore through the air. Your head whipped in the direction of it, expecting an enraged Riddle, face red and nostrils flaring, charging at you. Instead, the person scrambling over was…

“Ace?!”

You looked back at the young man holding onto Grim, then again at the one fast approaching. Side by side, the little differences between them came to light.

The taller Ace was sharper in every way—eyes, lips, face. His attire was far more casual than Riddle would allow for: an open vest, dress shirt undone a few buttons, a loose tie thrown over his shoulder. He had a relaxed maturity about him, as though Ace had been aged into some semblance of adulthood, but had maintained all of his wonder.

The imposter assumed a sheepish smirk. “‘Sup, lil’ bro?”

“Don’t ‘sup, lil’ bro me!!” Ace groaned, marching over to land a swift punch to his brother’s arm arm. “Dude, you can’t just ditch me to go screw with my friends! Only I'm allowed to do that!"

“My bad, my bad. I was just curious about what kinda people you hang around with.” His brother laughed, setting Grim back on the ground. You were quick to grab him before he circled around to attack the older Trappola’s pant leg.

“So,” Ace’s brother continued, his gaze trained on you and Grim, “you must be the ones that had Ace running to Sage’s Island over winter break. He was really worried when you got your SOS text. Basically broke his piggy bank to make sure he had enough allowance to take public transportation back to NRC.”

“Oh? Really? I had no idea he was so desperate to be my hero.”

“H-Hey, don’t listen to him! He’s blowing it out of proportion! I totally wasn’t that worried,” Ace protested. “Besides, if dummies like you and Deuce weren’t around… then school life would be so much more boring. A wellness check here or there’s fine, so lay off!”

His brother chuckled. Leaning into your ear, he murmured, “That’s how Ace shows that he cares.”

“Oi, what are you whispering about?!” Ace cried, elbowing his brother out of the way. “Stop gettin’ all chummy with MY friends and butt out. You’re supposed to be spending time with your family today anyway, so let’s get going!”

“What, I was just about to embarrass you by sharing stupid stories with them~”

“Like I’d like that happen!!” With a pout, Ace yanked on his brother’s arm. “Come on, you have adult stuff to do!!”

"Like you don’t have kid stuff to do?”

“I’m NOT a little kid anymore!”

“And I’m still young at heart.”

Stuck between the duo, you and Grim exchanged knowing glances.

“Those two… they really are alike, huh?”

“You know it, minion.”

[betterbooktitles]

Guillermo del Toro owns a second home that only has his stuff in it. Though the 59-year-old filmmaker is married with children, he keeps an entire second house to himself and fills it with frightening sculptures, inspiring pieces of art, toys, books, and movies, all of it his own curation. There are no kid’s drawings on the fridge, no side tables picked out by his spouse. It’s his personal playroom. He does most of the upkeep himself after a housecleaner broke the finger off one of his statues. He refers to it as a “man cave” or the “Bleak House” and often spends time alone writing there. Del Toro claims his wife likes it and has always supported his childhood dream house. She also prefers that his horrifying decorations don’t impede the aesthetic taste of the home they share as a family.

Having an entire home as a creative man cave that I am entirely in charge of would sound perfect to me if it weren’t for the fact that owning one home has become a nightmare even the best horror director could not fully capture on film.

I know I am lucky. The stats on Millennials owning their own homes are (if you will) bleak. But whatever I thought was irritating me in the city wasn’t nearly as bad as the physical and mental work required to live in a house. It drains bank accounts and my will to do more than one thing per day. When I was young and lived in New York, I scheduled my days like a CEO or politician: meetings, lunches, podcasts, and stand-up shows all crammed together to the minute as if I could teleport between venues. Now, if Wednesday morning includes a Home Depot run and a painting project, realistically, I’m not doing anything after that until Saturday. The laundry list of what needs to be fixed or maintained in the house grows every day. In the winter, there are rooms I simply don’t use because of a draft I can’t fix. In the summers, the yard becomes something we have to actively fight against lest new trees and mushrooms and 6-foot tall weeds that resemble stalks of asparagus take over everything. The current issue is a dead tree blocking a path to the backyard because wisteria vines are pulling it to the ground. It’s the fastest I’ve ever seen a plant move outside of Evil Dead.

Though we struggle to keep up with our checklists, my wife and I have ambitions for the house outside of general maintenance. We’d like a bigger kitchen, a functional garden, and a fence that looks like a stiff breeze wouldn’t knock it over. The house is fine without these physical flourishes, but the fantasy is always there, nagging whispers in the brain of how nice it could be given unlimited time and resources. That nagging gets into my head about a whole house devoted to my creative dreams.

When I fantasize about what I’d like most if money and time were no object, I find myself thinking about a home theater. Unfortunately, money is an object, and the “fun budget” was consumed by the “necessities budget” a year ago. We already replaced the furnace and AC, dug up tiles in the den, painted nearly every room, replaced doors, one of which was rotting the wood at the edges because it hadn’t been replaced since 1986, the year I was born. Still, the list grows. A dedicated line to the kitchen needs to be added by an electrician so the fuse doesn’t blow whenever I use the toaster and the electric kettle at the same time. The fence and what it nominally protects behind the house needs to be reworked before bunnies consume everything that isn’t a weed. The ancient carpeting needs to be ripped up, bathrooms need to be redone by professionals so my body can actually fit comfortably inside one. Walls need to come down to make living spaces seem less like hallways, and the bay window on the second floor that appears to be melting toward the ground needs to be addressed by a professional architect before the wind rips it off the bedroom wall like a giant scab. After all of that is finished, I’d still need to move into a newer, much bigger house if I want to have a home theater. 

Where did the yearning for a private theater come from? Unlike Del Toro’s childhood fantasy of having a house all his own, my wish for this extravagance came much later. I was 30, and I remember exactly how the seed was planted: Zillow. I spent hours on the site, letting the mortgage/insurance calculator tell me what I could afford for the same amount I paid in rent in Brooklyn. On my phone’s screen, I saw a $400,000 mansion in my wife’s hometown outside of Pittsburgh that was the most beautiful house I’d ever seen. It had high wood ceilings and multiple fireplaces to make the whole giant house feel like a cabin. I had 8 bedrooms and a home theater. Imagine, I thought, how good a movie must be in a theater in your own home. Imagine the parties with friends. Imagine movie nights where you force your kids to watch Back to the Future for the first time in a close approximation to the space where you saw it. Playing an old cartoon and a few YouTube’d trailers from the 80s. A little popcorn machine in the corner. Speakers that are way too loud. The dream.

I’ve realized recently, however, how silly the longing for a home theater is for me specifically. I don’t like watching sports at home. I need the atmosphere of screaming people either in the arena itself or in a bar. I need the game to be live. I need to be out among strangers or friends. I feel the same way about movies. I need other people with me, laughing, crying, gasping, clapping. 

Read the rest here.

[letsgetsinfulbaby]

Gluttony!

Erios - I feel like Erios didn't really have anything "alien" going for them, their final designs feel very watered down compared to their original concept art. What I decided on for the first concept was to stick closely to the in-comic design but change the nose and go with the concept idea of shorter eyebrows and odd marking/ridges on their face. I tried to follow what would go along with their eye/nose ridge line, using yellow to compliment their green complexion and theme. Along with a center forehead marking reminiscent of the center nostril line in their concept, going with the idea of a possible leftover from evolution. I also wanted a more asymmetric shape/idea for them so I removed the little bit of hair on the side to make it a bit more flat. On the second concept, I went with the more alien idea of the third eye and strange nose ridges from the cannon version. I feel like these are a good middle of the concept and the current, I made an attempt as a third nostril and second mouth but I couldn't seem to make it work. I also elongated their neck.

Tylo - Tylo was a bit more difficult due to the fact that the only reference to a different design was a simple thumbnail sketch with them having four eyes and more bull-like horns. I went with that idea for the first designs but instead of four eyes, I kept the eyebrows from the original concept. Wanting a more cosmic alien than the regular human alien we see with some of the hosts, I gave her slightly shorter hands and fingers along with giving her four fingers and the center finger being larger and having a longer claw on it. I expanded on the ombre idea she has on her face and included it throughout her body like on her limbs, I also wanted to be reminiscent of the fur patterns cats can have. For her second design wanted a more dramatic look and combined the horns in the sketch and the horns she has now making it look almost like a crown of sorts or a sort of bug as her in cannon horns look reminiscent of some kind of beetle with the mushrooms looking like eyes. They both have a nose marking that I like to think would be inverted but the texture of the underside of mushrooms, the gills I think is what its called? I wanted the ears to look a little less like oddly pointed cones and look just a bit more interesting. I got the idea of making her hair look reminiscent of fungi called Lion's Mane Mushroom, something I think is fitting for a demon inspired by cats and snakes. I'm hoping we are given more of a reason as to why it is she has literally mushrooms growing on her head so that in future designs I may be able to better incorporate it into my redesigns.

[ixiot-ghostrebel]

I just got an Another Sagau!Idea-

So you know the latest Archon Quest regarding about Khean'riah (or however you spell it), Caribert?

Yeah, so slight spoilers:

What if the Reader, before they lost their memories of being the Creator and all that, met the Traveler's sibling while they were meeting Eide, Caribert, and Chlotar Alberich? Let me explain:

The Reader's presence is special. → I based this fact from the way the Traveler's presence was enough to lessen Xiao's karmic debt. What if the Reader's presence does the same thing to the hilichurl's curse, but by a somewhat larger scale? Just having the Reader present is all that is needed to have the medicine work faster than it did before.

I also think Reader wouldn't reveal themselves as the Creator, instead taking up a disguise when they meet the Abyss Twin and Eide.

The Reader Might Be Eide's better Choice to Ask For a Blessing? → Allow me to elaborate. So, as we all know, most, if not all, kheanrians are atheists or just don't have much faith in gods in general. The Creator is a little different here—the Creator's presence is more of a feeling of safety, a feeling that they have some sort of familiar bond of sorts between the two.

I would think that Eide was see the Creator, aka Reader, as a being far greater than the Dendro Archon, a being with more power. This may have him beg for the Creator's blessing in the end instead of the Dendro Archon. The only problem? We know what the strange mushroom is made out of—the fertilizer to grow it is legit dead humans. I would honestly think the Creator is against this idea, which thus leads to the Reader denying his prayers. Eide may then be forced to beg to the Dendro Archon because of this.

I would honestly imagine that the Creator gives blessings more than most gods, even if they are just small miracles. Reader has balanced the consequences of giving the blessing to Eide, which leads them to refuse to accept his request. However, I think the Reader would change their mind, hoping that if they allowed Caribert to gain consciousness would stop Eide from killing more humans to make fertilizer—

The Reader Could Be Against Chlotar Alberich, Founder of the Abyss Order. → I'm mainly basing this idea off of the beginning of the game. To this, I'm referring to the intro cutscene, where we have to choose a sibling to be the Traveler. I would think the Reader shares a similar mindset to the Traveler—they do not believe what happened to the people of Khean'riah was deserved, but they are against joining the Abyss Order to cause harm to other nations.

I personally believe that Reader would be unhappy that Chlotar has started the Abyss Order to kill of the rest of their precious world. I can't really see the Reader agreeing with killing their own creation, instead trying to convince the Abyss Twin to not join him.

The Reader does not like this "new god" that's being created. → As you may know, human-made gods aren't exactly amazing. Scaramouche is a slight example of that. The Sages tried to create a god from human knowledge, and, in result, Scaramouche became a fake god. But, as you know, his power wasn't exactly as strong as a real god's power would be.

Reader does not like the fact that the Abyss/Abyss Order would go this far to making a god to get rid of the curse befalling on all hilichurls. To them, I would think it's some sort of severe risk. They are highly suspicious of this "god" and would rather find out its true intentions in other methods than cooperate with them. The Creator may be lenient on their creations, but they have to draw lines against them, unfortunately.

Alright, that's all I got for today! I'm sorry if it's a little confusing lol- I didn't fully understand the Archon Quest. See you around :)

Ghost Rebel Side Notes: I have honestly no idea how this idea emerged into my head lol- but I'm glad it did! Sorry for any grammar mistakes too btw—I don't exactly proofread before I post things.

Check The Ghost Rebel's Blog Description to See if Their Mailbox is Open!

[duckapus]

Pokemon/WarioWare crossover because why not throw yet another Anime Rewrite AU that I say I'll write a fic for and fully intend to but never do on the pile? (i have issues...)

Five years before the start of the series Delia and Ash find a girl around Ash's age with red eyes lost in a park who can't remember anything about herself except that her name is Ashley. Fallers are a bit more common in this timeline than others (though still pretty rare and not yet well understood) so when the authorities investigate they realize her situation pretty quickly...particularly how near-impossible it would be to get a 5-year-old who seems to be from a world without Pokemon (Fallers typically remember what Pokemon are and can name ones they're familiar with, so the fact that she only refers to them by general terms like "cat" or "bird" and is confused by a lot of their behavior is very telling). Delia, of course, agrees to take her in permanently after they break the news to her (she'd already been looking after Ashley during the investigation because of course she would).

So now Ash has a not-actually-a-twin sister. She still manages to become a witch-in-training since she's still got her massive potential for magic and witchcraft is canonically a thing in the Pokemon Anime. She even manages to summon Red and make him her familiar at seven. She's a bit more outgoing thanks to being raised in the Ketchum household instead of growing up more-or-less alone in that haunted mansion, but at her core she's still the grumpy little witch girl we know and love.

Anyway, she and Ash both plan on challenging the Indigo League, though they're going to travel together at least for their Kanto Journey (...yeah they're definitely gonna stick together even after that 'cause this is still meant to be a canon rewrite), partly because they know ahead of time about the Starter shortage and they figure that as long as at least one of them gets a Pokemon they can help the other catch something on Route 1 so they don't have to wait a month for a new set to be available (what, you really think Oak would've left them in the lurch for a whole year if the shortage had been real and not a Timeline Preservation Measure? though given how big a head start that would give the other trainers (particularly Gary) it still makes sense why 10-year-old Ash acted like it was the end of the world).

Of course, their alarm clock mysteriously breaks and they oversleep and end up with a Pikachu who hates them and an Eevee with absolutely no thoughts in its fluffy little head.

Anyway, things are mostly normal for a while aside from Ashley and Red being along for the ride, up until Power of One, where they encounter Wario. Apparently he ended up in the Pokemon World because he found some sort of magical artifact during one of his treasure hunts. Notably, he isn't Amnesiac like most Fallers, and he's not from the version of the Mushroom World that Ashley originally came from, as evidenced by him recognizing her on-sight even though she would've disappeared before ever meeting him. Anyway, he helps them beat Laurence III, then decides to claim the Hikokyu as spoils of war and fix it up to use as the local WarioWare HQ. So he's settling down in Shamouti for the time being.

Meanwhile, back in the Mushroom world, the WarioWare crew and the main Mario cast are trying to figure out what happened to Wario. They eventually manage to create a pipe that goes between Diamond City and Shamouti at some point midway through Johto...and find out that he ran off to Johto with Melody to challenge their League because he found out that Pokemon Battling, especially official League matches, gets you prize money, and he needed funds for replacement parts to get the Hikokyu up and running. So Mario, Peach, and about half the crew are off to fetch him. They don't finally catch up with him until the Alto Maire incident. Ashley's part of the search party, so she and the AU's main Ashley (and both Reds of course) end up meeting and it's a bit awkward at first. They end up going by Ashley K (for Ketchum of course) and Ashley M (for Mushroom, since she doesn't have a last name and Ashley W would be too clunky to say, plus she wouldn't be caught dead naming herself after Wario) for the sake of convenience (the Reds follow suit, of course).

I also have the idea of having the Hikokyu set up shop in Orre after it's been made skyworthy again and fully converted into a second game studio, then having the WarioWare crew stumble into and run roughshod over Gale of Darkness's plot with their own brand of glorious mayhem while just trying to introduce their games to the fresh new audience the Pokemon World provides.

[i-choose-the-danger]

Creature Comforts

Finally able to post today! Fitting that I get it typed up on Eddie Redmayne's birthday too. 🥰I had this idea in my head after writing my last fic and referring to it in the dialogue, and it kept nagging at me and growing bigger and bigger. It just made sense to turn it into a fic of its own. So this fic is about something that was referenced in this fic, if you want to read that first. Only one big note here - what I've written is based off my own personal headcanon for these characters. We don't really know much about Newt's and Theseus's childhoods. We're still unsure about Theseus's *actual* birthday, but I feel that in 1904 (when I have the fic taking place), Theseus would be finishing his 6th year at Hogwarts and Newt would be seven years old. And for Newt, the way he is and his childhood are personally important to me, so I ask that you be kind and respect that. Everyone has their own headcanons and these are mine. Thank you. <3 I really do love these boys and I hope we get to see more of them together in the next film. Fic below the cut. :)

It was a warm June day in the English countryside. All was quiet in the Scamander home, mostly due to the fact that a very young Newt was home alone with his mother and that his older brother Theseus wouldn't be returning from Hogwarts for the summer until later in the evening. Newt had been spending the day helping his mother with chores around the house.

"Here you are, little Ruffles," Newt announced, walking towards the small hippogriff enclosure in his family's backyard as slowly as possible. He was carrying a bowl almost as big as himself and trying not to spill any water from it. "It's very warm out here and Mummy says you have to... to stay, um... hydrated." He set the bowl down on the ground and bowed before the young hippogriff, quietly waiting. He was nervous, but tried not to tense his muscles. A few seconds later, Ruffles mirrored Newt and bowed its head. Newt sighed in relief and slowly raised a hand, resting his palm on the creature's head and brushing his little fingers back through its feathers as it bent down to drink.

"Wonderful," Newt's mother observed from behind him.

"She let me pet her!" Newt beamed. He had been trying since the hippogriff's birth to gain its trust. His mother had been teaching him about hippogriffs and how important it is to establish such a bond with creatures in one's care.

Newt was only seven years old, too young to yet attend Hogwarts, but interested in all of the creatures his mother cared for and he constantly asked her to teach him anything she could. Newt wasn't like most children his age. He was very quiet and kept to himself. The only time he would open up was when watching his mother care for the hippogriffs she bred or when she was tending her garden. He would often follow her and try to help with anything she would allow.

"She trusts you now. I'm proud of you, sweetheart." Newt's mother carded her fingers through her son's messy auburn curls, lightly patting the top of his head. "I need you to take this basket and feed these to the gnomes over the wall, hmm? Can you do that for me?"

"I can do that, Mummy." Newt picked up a wicker basket full of things his mother had pulled up from her garden and toddled off to the other side of the backyard in a hurry.

"That's my sweet boy," she sighed.

Newt had always enjoyed feeding the gnomes, but never understood what he was feeding them. His mother said that the things she pulled from her garden were called horklumps. They looked like an odd species of mushroom. She said that they weren't important and their only purpose was keeping the gnomes from digging holes throughout the backyard. Newt threw most of them over the wall to a few gnomes who had dug holes behind one of the oak trees, but he stared down at the few horklumps left in the basket. He shuffled one of his feet, digging his heel into the dirt. Mummy doesn't need these. It should be okay if I take a few to my room and look at them, he thought. Newt took the basket of remaining horklumps into the house.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Mum! I'm home!" Theseus called out as he pulled his trunk through the fence gate into the backyard, a broom in his other hand and a satchel slung over his shoulder.

"You're early, dear! I thought you said the quidditch team was going to get together after you got back to the station."

"That was the plan, but McCoy did poorly on his O.W.L.s and his parents wouldn't let him come out. We didn't feel right being without him."

"Oh, that's too bad. Maybe he should study with you next year for your N.E.W.T.s."

"Speaking of Newts, I thought he would be out here with you. Where is he?"

"I asked him to take all of the horklumps I pulled up and toss them to the gnomes over the wall."

"What on earth for?" Theseus wondered.

"Waste not. If you have the patience and the time, you can learn to coexist with almost any creature." Mrs. Scamander tucked a loose curl of hair behind her ear and continued to till her small garden. "Besides, it keeps those little monsters from digging up my roses. They know they'll get food from me if they stay away."

"He must've gone inside to clean up. Can I leave this with you while I find him?" Theseus lifted the satchel from his shoulder and handled it gently as he held it out towards his mother.

"Is that what we discussed the other day?" Theseus's mother brushed her hands against her apron to remove the dirt from them before holding them out. "Give it here. I'll keep it safe for you."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Newt had spent the past hour or so sketching and writing in his notebooks. He was seated on the floor in the center of his bedroom, his legs crossed and his socked feet flexing. Charcoal was smudged on his hands and wrists. A handful of horklumps sat in a pile in front of the child on the floor by one of his knees. They looked like large pink mushrooms, but they were covered in hard black hairs and had root-like tentacles. Newt's mother had told him they were nothing more than weeds in her garden, but he was fascinated with how they grew and his curiosity had gotten the better of him.

"You're not a 'shroom," he mumbled to himself. Newt stuck out his tongue and bit down on it lightly as he concentrated on sketching in his notebook. He looked at the tentacles poking out from the bottom of a horklump stalk. "These are little legs like ones on grin-, on grindee... Grindylows." He picked up one of the horklumps he had begun to dissect and held it close to his face. He grazed a finger over the coarse hair of its stalk. "Ow. It feels like brushes." The hard bristles were shedding from the small creature as he touched it. Newt was so focused on jotting down notes in his book that he didn't hear his door open.

"There you are. Didn't you hear me ca-" Theseus looked around the room. There were dissected horklump pieces strewn across the floor with Newt's notebooks. Garden dirt, charcoal, and the horklumps' spiny bristles were on some of Theseus's belongings, including his bed. "What is this mess?!"

"You're home early!" Newt yelped.

"Everything is covered in dirt and hair!" Theseus could feel himself getting more aggravated no matter where he looked.

"I was studying them." Newt blinked hard and looked up at Theseus. "I was going to clean it, soon as I finished!" Newt panicked and scrambled to bring himself into a kneeling position as he closed his sketchbook and threw his charcoal and quill into a small box of art supplies that he kept under his bed.

"And how exactly did you plan on cleaning all of this? Even the most complex scouring charm couldn't get this caked-in dirt out of my sheets!" Theseus tried swatting the dirt off of one of his blankets, but to no avail.

"I'm sorry! I'll clean it all up right now." Newt pressed his palms to his ears, trying to concentrate on where to start cleaning before Theseus could raise his voice again.

"Oh no, wait. Newt..." Theseus's tone was calm. He realized that his knee-jerk reaction was a bit too harsh towards his younger brother and he felt awful for reacting the way he did. "Newt, stop. Come here." Theseus crouched down to the floor and shifted his weight so that he was kneeling to match his brother's height. "It's alright. I'm not angry."

"I don't believe you. Your face is angry. And you were loud," Newt muttered, looking up at his brother through the unruly curls that had fallen in front of his eyes as he cast his head down. He blinked and stared back down at his socks. One of his thumbs clawed absentmindedly at his pants pocket. "I didn't mean to make a mess."

"I know. I'm sorry that I yelled." Theseus held his arms out towards Newt and sighed. "Please, come here," he added, stretching out his fingers. The corners of his mouth turned up as Newt cautiously stepped towards him. Once Newt was within reach, Theseus wrapped him in a tight hug. Newt didn't reciprocate the gesture, but simply stood still with his arms at his sides and let Theseus continue to hold him. "I'm sorry for yelling. I promise that I'm not angry." Theseus heard a small sniffle come from his little brother and his heart sank. He pulled back from the hug and flashed the cheesiest smile he could muster. "My face isn't angry either, see?"

"Not now. It doesn't have the big wrinkles anymore," Newt pointed out, tracing a finger across his brother's forehead.

"Wrinkles?! Hmmph!" Theseus rolled his eyes and let Newt go, crossing his arms. "I know how I can make up for upsetting you. How about I introduce you to a new creature? One I know you've never met before."

"A new one?" Newt's eyes lit up like stars. He pursed his lips and bounced with nervous energy. "You mean it?"

"Mmhmm. It's fun, and it's cuddly, and it's not dangerous, and it loves to make people smile."

"Why haven't I seen it before?" The child was very intrigued, yet cautious.

"Um, er, Mum might have just thought you weren't ready to meet one, but I think it's okay for me to show one to you now."

"Where is it? What is it called? Where did you find it?" Newt kept leaning from side to side, trying to see where his brother might be hiding such a wonderful surprise.

"Oh it's right here." Theseus chuckled to himself as Newt looked around. "It's called... a tickle monster." Theseus bent forward to wrap his arms around his little brother again, but Newt was too quick and jumped back, leaving Theseus to faceplant into the floor with a loud thud. "OOF!"

"Uh-oh!" Newt sprinted out of the room as fast as his legs could carry him, a panicked giggle escaping his lips as he padded down the hallway looking for a place to hide.

"You little... come back here!" Theseus pushed himself to stand and brushed some dust off the knees of his pants. "You can't escape the tickle monster. I know all of your little hiding spots!"

Theseus searched room by room, checking all of the places Newt would hide himself when he needed to be alone or when he was upset. He glanced over at the linen closet in the laundry room and smiled knowingly. Its door was open just the slightest bit. Newt would often tuck himself away in there when playing hide-and-seek with their mother. He'd never close the door all the way because he was still quite uncomfortable in the dark.

"Now where could that little brother of mine be?" Theseus wondered aloud. He pulled open a desk drawer. "Hmm, no. Not here." He shook out a blanket that had been laid over the back of a chair. "Nope." He lifted the cushion from the same chair. "Not under here either. I guess you're too smart for me." Theseus crept by a small cabinet and turned toward the linen closet. With a gentle hand, he grabbed the door, waited, and then flung it wide open. "AHA! Now I've got...you?" His expression fell. The bottom of the closet was empty. "Newt?" Theseus stepped into the closet and bent over to check behind a pile of bed sheets, not hearing the slight squeak of the cabinet door just behind him. Before he could straighten back up, the closet door swung and smacked against his bum, knocking him off balance and face-first into the stack of sheets. He could hear tiny footsteps dashing away. "You have got to be kidding me," he mumbled, his face still smooshed in the sheets.

Theseus doubled back to their bedroom just in case Newt had retreated back to where he felt safest. As he reached the doorway, he heard the staircase creak followed by a small gasp. He continued into the bedroom without turning to look back, knowing that Newt was heading downstairs. Theseus very rarely managed to get his brother to come out of his shell and be playful, so he was in no rush to end this game of hide-and-seek so soon.

"Need to hide. Need to hide," Newt repeated to himself frantically, eyes darting around as he tried to think of a spot that would be safe. He linked his thumbs into the pockets of his pants and pulled on them a few times to calm himself. The feeling of butterflies in his stomach was making him shift his weight back and forth from one leg to the other.

"I'm going to find you, little brother," Theseus called out in a sing-song voice as he started to descend the staircase.

"Oh no!" Newt quietly gasped to himself. He would never make it to the kitchen in time to run out the back door without Theseus seeing him and catching him. Luckily, Newt was thin and agile enough that he was able to quickly duck and dart under the dining table. He peeked out underneath the tablecloth to see Theseus's shoes only a few inches away from his hiding spot. Newt's hands flew to cover his mouth to suppress the sudden nervous urge he had to giggle.

"Brother mine, where could you have gone?" Theseus walked around the dining table and stood still for a moment, noticing a chair slightly out of place. He bent down just enough to be able to see exactly where Newt was hiding. He could have ended this chase right then, but couldn't help dragging the game out just a few minutes longer. "Well, he's too young to apparate, so he couldn't have vanished into thin air. I wonder if he went outside." Theseus headed into the kitchen and hid himself against the door frame to wait.

"Whew," Newt whispered. He carefully crawled over the bottom rungs of the chair in front of him and out from under the table. He had no idea that his brother was watching from the kitchen... or that he was now sneaking up behind him.

"Gotcha!" Theseus crowed, wrapping his arms around Newt's waist and scooping him into the air. Newt was already squirming and giggling before Theseus had even done anything. "And where do you think you're going, hmm? All this wriggly giggly nonsense won't save you from the tickle monster."

"No no no no no! You lied to me! That's... that's not a real creature! It doesn't count!" Newt continued to squirm in his brother's arms in hopes of slipping through and running for cover.

"Oh I can assure you that the tickle monster is very real. If it wasn't, could it do this?" Theseus's arms were long enough that he was able to hold Newt in a hug from behind and have his hands reach Newt's ribs on the opposite sides. The very second his fingers scrunched into Newt's sides, the child squealed and let out the wildest string of giggles Theseus had ever heard in his entire life.

"Thee-hee-hee-hee-heeseus!" No matter how hard Newt tried to free himself, his brother's arms were too strong. "You and your dumb hugger arms! Let me gohohohohoho!"

"You dirty up the whole bedroom, knock me down in the closet, and now you insult my hugging? That's it." Theseus walked into the den towards the couch, never pausing his attack as Newt continued to squeal and thrash about in protest in his arms. Theseus even blew a few raspberries against the side of Newt's neck, causing the child to squeak and squirm through more laughter. He dropped Newt onto the cushions and sat beside him, allowing them both a minute to catch their breath. Almost immediately, Newt scrambled to roll off the couch to safety. "Oh, no you don't!" Theseus spidered his fingers up Newt's ribcage and under his arms, which Newt immediately clamped down at his sides as he laughed harder. Theseus tried to pull his hands out, but Newt had them pinned in a vice-like grip under his arms. "If you're going to trap the tickle monster here, then it'll just have to claw its way free," Theseus sighed. The elder brother curled his fingers into claw shapes and scratched at the hollows under his captive's arms.

Newt shrieked.

"What in the name of Merlin..." Mrs. Scamander called from the kitchen.

"Mummy! He-he-he-he-he-help!" Newt curled himself into a ball and continued to squeal and laugh as Theseus poked and scribbled his fingers over every vulnerable spot he could find.

"I could hear the commotion from all the way outside. I thought someone was dying," their mother joked.

"I a-ha-ha-ha-ha-ham!" her youngest son shouted through his laughter. At this point, he had completely lost control of his limbs and flailed about on the couch trying to fend off his brother's assault. "He-he-he-he-he's trying to kill meeee!" Another high-pitched squeal left Newt's lips before his laughter started to go silent.

"So dramatic!" Theseus huffed. He gave Newt's ribs a few more quick pokes before helping him sit up and pulling him back against his chest. Newt collapsed into him and let his limbs go limp. "See? Very much alive."

"Barely so," Newt choked out through residual giggles. His chest was still heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He grabbed the hem of his shirt in his fists, rubbing them over his ribs to sooth away the tingly feeling that still lingered. "You're a rubbish big brother," Newt added sternly, even though it was with a smile as he curled back into a ball on his side.

"Ouch!" Theseus put a hand to his chest in mock offense. "I did bring home something for you though. I thought you would be old enough to have a pet to take care of so you'd stop destroying our room like the little tornado you are," he added, lightly mussing Newt's hair to emphasize his cyclonic nature.

"If you really did, then where is it?" Newt asked, still resting against Theseus's chest.

"I've got her right here. I kept her safe while you two were playing." Mrs. Scamander put her hands into the large pocket in the front of her apron and cradled something small as she pulled them back out. "She's a puffskein."

Newt's eyes widened like little hazel saucers and he instantly sat upright. His mother was holding what looked like a small ball of blue fur barely bigger than a quidditch snitch.

"She's beauuuutiful. May I hold her?" Newt whispered. He loosely held nervous fists up near his chin and waited for permission.

"If you're very careful. She's just a baby. Cup your hands like this." Mrs. Scamander held out her hands next to Newt's, still cradling the puffskein, and gently urged it to waddle over into his waiting hands. It took a few steps and settled into his palms with a soft coo. He instinctively cupped one hand behind the small creature to keep it from falling. "Just like that. She needs to feel safe."

"Oooooh." Newt held the puffskein against his chest and repeatedly brushed the fingers of his free hand over her fur. "She's so soft."

"She reminded me of that fuzzy blue blanket you hold all the time, so I thought you'd like her." Theseus reached out and scratched the puffskein's head with his index finger.

"She's perfect. Thank you." Newt continued happily petting the puffskein, never looking away from her. He found the continuous touch of her fur brushing the pads of his fingers to be very soothing. "What's her name?"

"She doesn't have one yet. I thought you should name her since she's yours now," Theseus replied.

"Hmm..." Newt held his new pet out and looked her over. "She looks like a big blue eye. I'll call her Iris." The puffskein cooed.

"I think she likes it. If you stay still, she likes to perch herself here," Theseus told him. He took Iris into his hands and set her down on one of Newt's shoulders. "Just be careful. She has a long little tongue and if you're not watching, she'll take your bogeys right out of your nose," he whispered, pinching Newt's nose between two of his knuckles.

"Theseus! That's disgusting!" his mother scolded. Newt instantly covered his nose with one of his hands, horrified at the thought.

"It's true though! It's the first place they look if they can't find food," Theseus added.

Iris started to purr, cuddled against Newt's cheek. As the intensity of her purr increased, she started to vibrate and her fur buzzed against his neck. Newt scrunched his shoulder and squeezed his eyes shut as he squeaked out a surprise laugh.

"It looks like you have a new little tickle monster," Theseus joked.

"Noooo! I should send a tickle monster after you," Newt replied, still scrunching his neck. He cupped a hand around Iris and guided her to walk down his chest far enough for him to take her in both hands and hold her in his lap.

"Please. Tickle monsters don't bother me," Theseus replied in a huff.

"I guess your brother never told you about when he first met the tickle monster, hmm?" Mrs. Scamander stood at the end of the couch with her hands on her hips and a knowing smirk.

"Wait, what?" Theseus all of a sudden felt very anxious.

"Uh-oh..." Newt protectively cuddled his new pet and scooted away from his brother on the couch.

"Oh yes. When Theseus was your age, sometimes he would be so rambunctious that the only thing that could tire him out was a visit from the tickle monster." Mrs. Scamander was now standing behind Theseus as Newt giggled to himself watching them with wide eyes.

"Mum, what are you... Mum, NO!" Theseus curled in on himself and tried to shield his sides as his mother proceeded to tickle him to pieces.

Newt had never heard Theseus laugh so hard or seen him lose composure so quickly. He had also never felt more at ease simply sitting there with a new pet to care for and study. At that moment, Newt could think of nothing else he would make him happier.

[havin-fun-imagining-twd]

I don’t hate you

When - 40ish minutes after The first Christmas ‘without,’ Part 2. You were unable to successfully nap. And the turkey is still not ready to eat, but there are cookies!

What - there are cookies!, skimming stones, yearning, forgiveness (working on it), reconciliation, healing, found-family and a slow burn Daryl x You at Christmastime, y’all. You spend time with Rick to remind yourself that you don’t hate him.

Genre - found family fluff and slow burning

Perspective - You 2nd person, Daryl 3rd Person

Pronouns - neutral they/them

TWs? - some language, some anger, and Carl looks at mushrooms growing on a tree stump eww

Which stories should I have read first? - A fu--in’ great Christmas, The first Christmas ‘without’ Part 1 and 2. Like a traditional Sunday dinner will help you know what they’re talking about while y’all are eating cookies. There’s reference to souls stripped bare.  Then, read every other chapter!

How much time will I need to read it, troublemaker? - 25 minutes? It depends :D

Do you have a Masterlist? - there are two for The Slowpoke Series, the main one here in publishing order (recommended), and this one here in chronological order if you prefer!

      40ish minutes later

Him

............................

“Who got the most?”

Y/N turns from their spot on the ground facing the lake and subtly does that hand gesture thing that means they were finishing up a prayer. “Beth, then Glenn, Mags and me tied for third, Carl came in fourth. Oh, and Glenn was trying to convince us to do a chicken swim at some point while we’re here.”

He hums, smiles (on the inside) at the memory, then wonders how would he have done if he joined the rock-skipping contest?

You know what, why wonder? He’s gonna try skimming stones right now.

“Careful about gettin’ too close to me, Daryl, I’m almost done eating a spoonful of peanut butter.” They hold up the spoon with the extra long handle and wave it a little in warning.

“Nasty.”

Y/N shakes their head and winks. “Delicious.”

Confused at himself as to why he suddenly feels shy, he picks up a smooth-ish rock and looks sideways at his friend and tries to digest all the damn butterflies in his stomach. “Shoulder still good after pelting rocks?”

They nod and take the spoon out of their mouth to confirm, “Very. Not to brag, but I haven’t grieved it up in a over a month.”

He rounds his arm, throws—aw, shit, the only thing it did was go ploosh. Well, that was embarrassing, fuck.

“That was the warm-up, try again,” Y/N chuckles.

He grabs another, flings it.

Ha, that’s right! Three skips, motherfucker!

Take that, you fucking lake.

As his friend bursts out laughing, he becomes aware that he said the lake thing out loud.

Cheeks flaming up like a burner on a gas stove, he holds back a snort and deadpans, “I’m here to entertain,” as he reaches down to find another rock that was flat enough for skipping. He peeks behind him. “Gonna join?”

A pretend whine detailing how they “just got comfy, exceptin’ the fact that my butt is an ice pop,” comes before they stand up and grab a stone of their own. With a twist to the side to fling their rock onto the lake, they naturally mimic his “‘Take that, ya fuckin’ lake,’” as they throw. Their rock makes two big skips and one little one.

That they’re smiling makes him smile. He wonders if they saw him smiling like an idiot when they waved at him from over on the rock when they were sitting with Glenn. He then wonders if they were smiling back…

His turn, so he hurls another one out there and gets—four skips? Hell yeah!

“Four? Nice!” they praise. Already prepped with another rock, they take their turn and toss out there, getting two short hops. With a shrug and a smile, they tell him, “You could give Rick a run for his money, he’s good at this.” Y/N then wipes the dirt off their fingers and looks out at the water, tucking their hands under their scarf to warm up. “Did you notice that asshole’s ambidextrous?”

Which came out…not at all how they sound when they’re joking around. “You feelin’ any better than before?”

There’s a longer pause before they respond, “Y-yeah, I think so.”

“Quarter.”

Y/N makes a little huff and, sorry, that shit still makes Daryl smile on the inside. He unbuttons the pocket of his coat and pulls out his new nicotine gum. Let’s see if the stuff works… “Want me to kick his ass for ya?” he grunts (as a joke), poking out a piece from the foil packet.

Y/N lightly elbows him. Their eyes look brighter. “One of these days I might could say yes—you’d best be mindful of those offers, sunshine.”

He pops the gum into his mouth and shrugs. “I can kick his ass, no problem.”

“Ain’t saying you can’t.” Good, they’re close to giggling, he can tell.

“That ambidextrous thing, though,” he mumbles, “that coulda complicated stuff, thanks for the heads up.”

“Nah, Shane always bested him, you’d do fine.”

“Shane bested me, too, so, I dunno.” He chews the gum and few times and adds, “So did you, for that matter. You even fought T-Dog off unt—”

—ohhh shit. Okay, that was intended as an honest observation, the way they’d been able to fend off more than one person like that was badass and impressive as fuck, but reminding them of that night was brainless as fuck. The imaginary knee that hasn’t kicked his balls in something like two months shows up and knees him good.

That night, most of the group, in one way or another, had helped to either take Y/N’s weapons away, physically restrain them, or talk ’em down.

Then they’d left, which was huge for them. Huge for everyone. It didn’t last long, he’s damn grateful for it, like, they’d even told Carl it was temporary. But still. Them leaving ‘their’ Carl was big.

And he gets one final knee to his danglers when his friend makes light of it. “But together, y’all conquered, and a good time was had by all.”

Always with the making light, this one, even when they’re clearly trying to swallow so they don’t cry, and smiling even though it’s not fooling anyone. Such as right this damn minute. Well done, Daryl.

He can’t seem to grab the right words to smack into a sentence, what’s the protocol for this?

Also, why are they smiling at him? And pointing a spoon at him?

“Uh-oh, dude, if you’re fixing to get all awkward and apologetic or uncomfortable around me, I’ll go scoop more peanut butter onto this spoon and chase you with it.”

Hands up in surrender, he catches himself cracking up. “I’ll go get the jar right now, slowpoke, where’s it at?”

With another head shake and a giggle, they lightly cup their hand on his upper arm. “Alright, s’go back, Dary-bear. Carol, T-Dog and Beth were making a surprise, let’s see if it’s ready yet.”

............................

You

............................

New baking secret learned today: baking cookies on a piece of tinfoil on top of a woodstove is somewhat tricky and requires flipping, however, it makes the room smell heavenly! They weren’t ready when you and Daryl poked your heads in, but after you and Lori came back from doing laundry, the water department building was toasty warm and smelled like a bakery.

Another secret you learned about two hours ago, unrelated to baking, is to not forget to push the front seats back when napping in the truck. This way, when you roll over in your sleep, you don’t fall into the wedge between the backseat and the floor; your nap was very short (nonexistant), and the mp3 ran out of charge anyway.

Back to the cookies, they were made with farina, corn starch, applesauce from those little sealed cups, some of the sugar rations, other stuff. You started bouncing as soon as you took your first bite. You’re still bouncing at your spot by the window where you’re doing your shoulder PT while nibbling on one.

Lori is cranking up the little rainproof crank radio with the plugs and charging ports (and flashlight!) in it. It’s got a little solar arm out to speed up the process, but all told, it’s not very efficient.

And there’s no turkey ready for consumption just yet, but there are cookies.

“Lore, want another?”

“I want more than just another,” she muses under her breath. “I’m gonna stick with the two I already ate. I might take a walk around the lake to get way from them, in fact,” she laughs. “The mp3 is almost at four bars.”

The nod you make in response that the music player is almost ready doesn’t match the uneasy look on your face. You can feel your facial muscles not cooperating to make you look relaxed and chill.

Best change the subject: “It is Christmas Day, it’s a requirement to eat too many cookies. Besides, you can relax the willpower a little when you’ve got a baby in there. Oh! I’m gonna find the Frog and Toad story about the cookies and read it to your belly!” you babble.

Her hand briefly rubs along her very tiny bump. Crazy that she was able to feel them moving two or three weeks ago, it was so early! “People are already beginning to…” she pauses, then shifts closer to you. “You know how Hershel doesn’t want to be treated as delicate? How you don’t like needing help or admitting when you need to take it easy?”

“That’s never happened ever,” you deadpan, which makes her smile.

“As the months go on, I’m going to need more help, and, and attention, whether I want it or not. So before that, I-I don’t want to accept any special treatment. You understand.”

Munch, munch, munch. You chew slowly in an attempt to make a point. “It’s a cookie.”

“No special treatment. And I’m just so…” Her eyes shut for a moment. She opens them and looks embarrassed. “Oh, Y/N, I’m just so hungry,” she softly confesses. “All the time. At the house, there was an old box of baking soda in the closet.” She opens her eyes and appears embarrassed. “I almost tossed it into the toilet to stop myself from eating it. I had to give it to Carol. That’s what I’ve started craving, it’s — anyway, I’m pretty certain I’ll lose it and pig out in front of everyone one of these days. And we’ve already been far too,” a pause to find the right word, “humbled enough around each other.”

“And she draws the line at eatin’ a third cookie, ladies and gentleman,” you poke fun while pausing your PT to book it over to the med bag for the vitamin supplements. Lori tends to get nauseated when she takes them, but craving baking soda, something non-nutritive? An extra vitamin can’t hurt. “Just a sec, that’s the cute name for this new cookie recipe. Why, we should oughta make ‘special treatments’ every Christmas henceforth!��

“Yo, why are we saying ‘henceforth?’” Glenn calls over with his mouth full.

“I named the cookie special treatments and said we’ll have to make ’em every Christmas henceforth.”

“What does that even mean? That name sucks, dude.”

True. Rude. “Well, what grand name do you got?”

“The ‘water departments.’”

“Eesh, y’all stink at names,” is all T-Dog will deign to say as he paces around doing a little food dance of his own while he savors every bite. “How about: the ‘apocalyptic masterpi’—nah, that won’t work, this ain’t the Apocalypse, it was just an outbreak of a novel or mutated disease, most likely a viral one,” he narrates to himself. That’s what all the news stations had been reporting before they went out. Dr. Jenner had seemed to echo that hypothesis, you guess.

Maggie starts chuckling to herself over “The water treatments, is that a better name?”

“The, um, special departments…” is Beth’s contribution, and the lengthy “special water department treatments,” is what Carl giggles from the floor where he and Beth are laying, staring at out the window while they indoor cloud-watch.

“The water department specials?” Lori offers, accepting the vitamins from you and quickly taking them down with some leftover coffee.

In terms of the other choices, that was pretty solid. Sounds more like a civic tax discount, but, “Yeah, I’d eat those.”

Glenn’s grinning wide. “Now we have something to serve with our trademarked drink.”

Trademarked drink? “Hold up, you mean ‘The CDC?’ Or did we go with the ‘Dr. Jenn—no, not that name, I’m deletin’ it,” you mutter.

Glenn hesitates, “‘The CDC’ is an okay name.”

“I guess,” you start to think, but catch eyes with T-Dog. “Teddy, you remember how Glenn drained his so quick?”

“And all that wine, and how he felt the following morning, yes I do.”

Maggie starts laughing. She’s heard the story quite a few times. You grin at her as you lean against the windowsill by Lori and say, “How about we rename the drink ‘The Glenn?’ That sounds cool.”

The namesake seems cool with it. “Oh heck yes! You know why that name sounds cool?”

“’Cause he is the coolest,” you drawl, as cheerful as you’d felt this morning when you all prepped for making sure Christmas would still feel relatively normal, especially for Carl.

The cheerfulness goes *poof* when you hear Lori calmly tell you in your ear, “It’s charged up, honey.”

You turn.

Look.

She’s holding out the mp3 player and new(ish) earbuds you just been gifted.

To explain: back closer to when it happened, it was how she’d help you to spend time with Rick, how you could stay calm but still reestablish your bond with him. That’s why you brought it up to him earlier, you’d figured it was a good idea…

Lori also knows that during that big fight with Glenn you’d had about a month back, when he name-called you ‘Nurse Ratched,’ you’d taken that very personally. It hit as if he were saying you’d lost yourself the way Shane had, like your conscience had become deformed. Whenever you fight with Glenn about Hershel, you kinda might could still be scared that others see you as a cruel, unfeeling ticking time-bomb.

Back to your music-listening with Rick, a plus was that it gave you full leave to get some of your aggression out via (playfully?) insulting his taste in rockabilly.

Your eldest sister had just about every genre on her old mp3 she gave you; hard rock, screamer, Motown, Gregorian chants, big band, P&W, R&B, Bollywood, reggae, classical, musicals, pop, Latin, Korean—you name it, she had it. She also added music and made playlists for friends and family. Including rockabilly for her good friend’s husband/stepbrother’s best friend.

Which isn’t so bad, it’s just mildly entertaining how into it Rick is compared to stuff like Zeppelin or Jimi or Cash. In his defense, he can’t help but bounce along to Britney, though.

Right, you have to answer Lori, don’t you?

“I don’t want to” is what untactfully hops out of your mouth. You were supposed to be subtle about it, Y/N.

“Honey.”

“I’m meant, um, I’m good now. I don’t need to.” It’s too late, stop trying.

“Maybe he needs you to,” she gently hints.

Needs you to? Did Rick—Rick noticed that you’d gotten angry about him again, didn’t he? That asshole always notices.

“Lori, he’s the resident atheist, he’s not gonna wanna sit though me playin’ Christmas carols, anyways, you know how he gets about God stuff.”

She still holds out the music player.

Fine. Mindful that you are on the grumpy side after your failed attempt at a nap, you accept the mp3 from her hand and put your hat back on. But before you bust out there to listen to music with (say it, Y/N) your brother, you first call out the door, “Daryl, can I have my coat back?”

As much as you don’t want to take off Daryl’s poncho, you’d like your other, deceased brother’s coat back on.

Either to remind Rick of him or because you feel more grounded in that old coat because it still smells like Shane and home a little bit, you aren’t clear.

............................

      1 minute later

............................

Daryl’s letting you keep the poncho on, he says he’s comfortable in just his leather jacket for now. In thanks, you impulsively took your scarf off and flopped it around his neck (you were worried that he’d get cold in just the jacket. It’s darned chilly out.)

You feel better that you can keep his poncho on. Safer, you guess.

Is that silly? It’s not like it’s armor. 

And why would you need armor in the first place?

............................

Him

............................

He figured he could keep watch while he and Maggie were about to start guard duty, anyway. It was regular guard duty, by the way; the group stopped being on edge about Y/N being unaccompanied around Rick the second week after their brother was killed, it hadn’t taken long.

And it’s not like he’s gonna stand over them, he’ll just be nearby. No big deal. He’s just — it’s not the weird, nice feeling in his chest this time exactly, it’s more of that damn invisible string thing happening again. When it happens, it feels right to be a little closer to Y/N, make sure they’re safe, he guesses. And seeing them wearing his clothes makes him wanna stand taller, so he turned down his poncho even though he’s kinda cold.

Right, um, anyway, walkers had a way of sneaking up on people, never mind that other living people could be a way bigger threat to his two distracted friends listening to music and staring out at the lake. So, he’ll keep an eye on them.

There are some bolts he needs to sterilize and sharpen, anyway.

............................

     1 more minute later

You

............................

Sleeping bag in hand so your butts won’t get too cold, you silently walk with Rick around the edge of the lake as to be in view of the little building. You get to the water’s edge and flop the sleeping bag on the mossy part near the bank. The water’s frozen over just a bit.

Through your yawn, you state, “You get one Ronnie Dawson song and Yakety Yak, then it’s carols, Rick.”

He catches your yawn and stretches as he replies, “Sounds good.”

You both sit and silently look out at the water. But it’s in your periphery that you notice you aren’t quite alone. With a glance first at Rick, you turn and stare openly for a moment because you’re slightly annoyed.

Is he the babysitter or something? That he’s whittling the points of his bolts isn’t fooling you.

Murmuring to Rick in a light, self-deprecating tease, “Daryl’s our warden this time,” you hold out one earbud for him and gesture toward where your favorite redneck is loitering.

“It’s not like that,” Rick murmurs back.

What you’d probably describe as a knowing smile spreads across your face. “Is it not?”

“No.”

You nudge him softly with your arm as what anger remains inside you is carried off in the breeze. “Not even a little, though?”

“Go on, troublemaker, let’s listen to some music,” he ribs in response. “And believe it or not, I wouldn’t mind carols. It’s been a fuckin’ great Christmas.”

Your mouth falls open because, first off, Rick doesn’t cuss. Second off (is that a term?), that’s the exact phrase Daryl said earlier. Your cheeks heat again and you’re smiling like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. “Did my punk repeat something he should oughtn’t have?”

His eyes crinkle and he chuckles, “I ‘might could’ have overheard you and Daryl with him around the fire earlier.”

“Well, now your son is one quarter richer.”

“We’ll have to put it in the bank, save it up for college.”

Once he’s got the earbud in his ear and he gets comfortable, you click play. It’s the live version of one of his favorites. The opening lyrics “Gimme the downbeat, maestro!” bleat out, and, per usual, Rick cannot help but jive along (and snap off-rhythm). It’s very cute.

He mouths along with the lyrics, too, knows them all. Two and a half minutes later, you feel up to joining him in singing along to final words, “Hear me? Whoa! Action packed!”

The next song is equally bouncy and old, so much that you drowsily check to see if your boots turned into saddle shoes.

Your fatigue is briefly overcome when ‘Toxic’ starts to play. Rick snorts and starts to giggle like a little kid while you mouth every lyric (you don’t actually know the exact lyrics, just what they sound like, you feel?) and grooving along to the tempo. His off-rhythm snapping comes back with a vengeance until the song ends.

The Christmas carols finally start after, and your sleepiness returns and goes into overdrive. You lean against the rock behind you. Rick does, too. The sun is shining enough to keep you cozy, the music is softer.

Ricks yawns and stretches again. When the instrumental version of Oh Come, Oh Come Emmanuel plays, your eyelids are sinking…

............................

Him

............................

Are they both asleep?

Shit, look at that. Both just snoozing, like, right there.

How long’ve they been like that? Damn, it’s a good thing he’s out here keeping watch—keeping watch in general, not specifically on them.

But yeah, might as well let them cop some Z’s.

............................

    ? minutes later?

You

............................

A familiar tune that you haven’t heard in over three months stirs you very awake. You’ve been avoiding it on purpose, why is it playing? Make it stop, make it stop, make it st—

—You pull the earbud out and sit up with a sharp inhale.

“Kiddo, you okay?” He only uses ‘kiddo,’ when he’s feeling protective.

“Yeah, um, ain’t nothing, it, it j-just got to be too much noise,” you make up on the spot. It sounded casual enough, right? You blink the grogginess away and blindly stare at the clouds as you rest your arms on your knees.

“I saw you were still out, figured that one would help you stay asleep. Your family’s song.”

“You’d think we was making commission, how often Mama or the girls or Shane played it over the years.”

“Shane listened to that song for everything. Insomnia, break-ups, failed tests, rough calls, arrests he didn’t feel right about. In fact he,” his voice gets softer. “He played that song almost nonstop, absolutely nothing else other than that for three whole weeks after your dad passed.”

“Mama replayed her Boyz 2 Men cassette durin’ that.” You were very young when that happened, but that’s the most vivid memory you have. That and the smell of all the casseroles neighbors and such brought over.

“I still remember the streaky sounds the CD player would make when he’d hit the back button. It was something, he ended up not being able to stand the song for four months after.”

“Imagine that,” you mumble. You’ve got the ‘22’ pendant between your fingers again. “Well, Shane was a drama-king,” you joke.  

“In his defense, so am I,” Rick almost sounds nervous to joke back.

“At least you’re more Shakespearean than he was. Stronger moral backbone, too.” Fuck it, you’ll speak honestly. You loved him, you would’ve killed and would’ve been killed for him, and you pray that he’s resting in peace, but you know what Shane’s faults were.

“Shakespearean?” Rick repeats.

“Yeah, Shane sounded like a hillbilly compared to you, the way you always talk good and give speeches.”

A groan follows you comment about ‘speeches,’ but then he gets a mischievous look on his face. “I talk ‘good?’”

Aw man, you walked straight into that one. Your mildly British accent comes back out. “Oh, I do beg your pardon, I meant to say that you speak well.”

He gets brave enough to use Shane’s old nickname for you. “Weirdo.”

You don’t mind, you gave him an old nickname, too. “Pork-chop.”

The quiet tinkling of the pendant’s loop running over the small links in the chain as you pull it back and forth, back and forth, fills the silence that follows. It’s an okay silence, too. You’re glad that Lori convinced you to do this today, you think, as you snuggle deeper into your coat and inhale deeply—wait.

You sniff again.

Again.

Your stomach drops to the ground.

Crap. “D-did Daryl smoke in this?”

“Barely. You know how he’s been doing short little spurts, less than a minute. Hey, Y/N, why are you taking the jacket off? It’s cold out.”

“Just checkin’ something.” The chill doesn’t bother you as you press the collar to your nose and sniff. Cigarettes. Daryl. Wood-smoke.

You try sniffing the back of the collar. Daryl. Wood-smoke.

You check the shoulders. Wood-smoke.

Finally, when you try lower down on the coat, you relax and hug it in relief.

Shane’s scent isn’t all gone yet, neither is the faintest hint of Mama’s perfume that would always linger on things she wore.

A few tears well up and flow out as you feel your pulse going down.

“Does it still smell like him?” Rick wonders very quietly.

“Mmhm,” you mumble, your cheek resting against the soft, fluffy, very worn lining. You bury your face in the fluff and breathe in again.

“Y/N, I wish th—” he stops abruptly and doesn’t finish his thought.

There’s a lump in your throat you try to swallow away.

The sounds of geese flying overhead fill the air. A gentle, cold breeze picks up and you could swear you get a whiff of peanut butter. You start to feel cold again.

From the little building, laughter reaches your ears. Carl, Beth, Glenn. Lori and T-Dog’s voices you think you hear, too.

“Wanna wear it for a while, Ricky? It’s a good coat,” leaves your mouth.

He doesn’t seem to know how/what to reply, so you decide for him and hand it over. Doing that thing where someone looks at another but not in their eyes, he unzips his coat and trades with you.

Oo, his jacket is warm! You begin to unzip the hoodie you have on, quickly remove the poncho underneath, then just as fast zip your hoodie back on and bundle into Rick’s coat before all the body warmth on it disappears in the wintry chill.

His coat also has a fuzzy lining around the neck so you rub your cheek on it. You can imagine Daryl asking “What are ya, a cat?” and it makes you grin.

Rick’s got the music player in his hand, but you see him peering at you — in the eyes, this time. “Why did you switch coats with him today?”

You’re mid-shrug when you notice how you’re hugging the poncho to yourself like a blankie. “I was shiverin’ this morning and he offered.”

“That was kind of him.” It’s unclear to you whether or not he’s teasing you about it (he never has), but either way, this is good. You’re really glad you’re doing this.

“It was,” you answer simply, feeling at peace.

“So, what are we listening to next? I’ll put carols back on?”

“Can you replay the song, Rick?”

“The Zeppelin one?”

You nod. “You can pick which version.”

“Um, sure, of cour—sorry, there are versions?”

“She uploaded the remastered version, the mandolin cover, a live recording from YouTube.”

The poncho, you finally pull back over your head and wear it properly this time, over everything else instead of under. “I feel like an old-timey gunslinger in this.”

With a quiet chuckle, Rick nods. He click, click, clicks through the mp3 for the song. “Of course she made a playlist of only this one.”

A smile forms on your lips. Yeah, your eldest sister made a playlist of only Going to California, with three versions in a row repeated three times. It was for (her step)Mama and (stepbrother) Shane.

He hands you the earbud you’d torn off. You thank him and place it back into your right ear.

The gentle strumming of the guitar starts to play.

Clouds pass overhead as the song washes over you. Three months, you haven’t listened to it. Barely touched Zeppelin entirely, Shane enjoyed them too much.

The mandolin soon joins the guitar’s pretty, soft melody. You don’t feel sick to your stomach this time.

Robert Plant’s voice begins to sing those silly, nonsensical lyrics. Man, you’ve missed this song.

You hear Rick make a shaky inhale, so turn to look. He’s all bleary-eyed, same as you.

“I don’t know why, but something about the tune gets me going,” he hushes.

A sob forms in your throat, so you nudge him with your foot and tease, “Drama-king.” You scoot closer to him. He scoots closer to you.

“Are we okay?” you hear him ask.

“’Course we are. We have been. It was just the holiday gettin’ to me earlier.” And you aren’t just saying it, you mean it. “We’re family.”

Rick swallows and rubs the scruff on his jaw. His eyes are now completely bloodshot. “So was he,” he whispers.

The sob moved up when you heard him repeat the exact three words you’d said to him that bad, bad night. Four simple phrases, nothing fancy or profoundly heartbreaking. But the first one, “So was he,” you dunno, but it hit him like kryptonite, so you learned.

Like, obviously there’s more to it, but no, you’re not gonna delve back down; what’s done is done.

Forgiveness, in it’s fullest sense (which means your anger has gotta go) is something you’re working on, therefore accepting the past and not living in it is important. And for Rick, your brother, he’s in desperate need of forgiving himself.

Though, because of that night, instead of saying ‘I love you,’ as true as those words are, when things are hard, you have a temporary, different way of wording them with him…

“Rick? I don’t hate you.” It’s a false equivalent, you know, but it’s what needs to be used as the translation for the time being

His breath hitches. Rick turns his head away and tugs at his hair for a moment before turning back. “Y/N? I don’t hate you, either.”

You wipe your eyes and say it again. “I don’t hate you at all.”

He smiles a little while staring at the lake. “Good, ’cause I don’t hate you at all, either.”

............................

Him

............................

Nice, they’re sitting close. Good sign. And good cookie, hot damn. Carol snuck some more out and was sharing them. “Thanks for not makin’ them peanut butter,” he remembers to tell her. Shit, a crumb fell out of his mouth when he said that. Damn.

“They would’ve come out so much better if we did, pookie, just letting you know.”

“Yeah, T-Dog reminded me.”

“He’s, um…” What’s she smiling all shy about? “He’s actually making peanut butter ones outside over the fire right now.”

He turns to look. Oh yeah, check it out. T-Dog’s got the flat pan thing balanced over the makeshift grill. “Nasty.”

“Better stay downwind,” is her suggestion. She’s smirking only a little.

He did not expect to become such good friends with Carol, of all people, but he’s real happy it turned out this way. Definitely didn’t expect to become friends with T-Dog, neither. Hell, at first, he couldn’t imagine becoming friends and getting close enough for that damn invisible string to tug every so often with Y/N.

Didn’t expect to stay with or get close to any of the people here, to be honest. It was the last idea in his head that he was gonna stay, and that they’d want him to stick around.

“Would you like another, Daryl?”

“Hell yeah.”

She pulls out a napkin-wrapped small bundle from her coat pocket and hands him two more. He shoves a whole one in his mouth, it’s so damn nice to have a fresh cookie.

From the corner of his eye, he sees Baby Spice Beth by the fire, waving to them from beside T-Dog as he calls over, “Carol! I think it’s go-time for our turkey!”

Beth’s teeny little voice shouts what he thinks is “I got all the fixin’s ready!”

He’s not at all ready for Y/N and Rick to suddenly start shouting, handguns out, “T-Dog, we’re coming!” and “Beth, get Carl and Lori and run to the Hyundai and hide, we’ll get you when it’s safe! T-Dog, find Hershel!”

From the other side, Maggie then shouted something like, “Is Beth hurt? What’s goin’ on?”

What the hell?

............................

You

............................

Today is just full of lessons, ain’t it?

Turns out that you and Rick having music playing loudly in one ear leads to the two of you, upon hearing raised voices but not hearing what they were saying, to immediately assume the worst and jump into action. You’d both thought your people were being attacked or overrun...

A minor ruckus ensued, it’s, um, it’s fine now.

Hershel was amused. You heard him sigh all the way from where he was, then watched as he waved his hand with the yellow walkie in it and continued ambling along on his constitutional around the lake. It’s good that he’s keeping his scarf over his mouth and nose to warm the air while he’s out and about.

Carol told you both that you and Rick looked “kinda cool” when you’d leapt up together and started making for the completely imagined emergency. “It was like one of those movies with the sheriff and the rookie.”

You, obviously, were quick to coo “Aw Rick, you looked like a rookie!”

It was good to see him smiling. When you’d heard the shouts, he’d gone from normal to sweaty in the approximate 10 or so seconds worth of time it took for y’all to get up-in-arms and ready to bust some heads → to becoming some sort of emotion in between embarrassed, confused, and annoyed at having reacted so strongly.

Not that you still won’t occasionally refer to Rick as ‘dicktator,’ but that man is constantly on-alert because he genuinely wants the group safe and protected. He took all responsibility upon himself that bad, bad night. And no matter your opinion on it, the other people in your group rolled with it; you don’t control their choices.

They concluded that it was safer together (which it is, and you’d have it no other way) and they openly accepted those really shitty terms and conditions Rick laid out (which you did not and aren’t pretending to).

You’re pretty sure Rick’s still concerned about the group splitting, or that the group was still “broken,” as Dale had said just over three months ago (which reminds you that you still haven’t done the kaddish thing for him yet today!).

Truly, that stopped being an issue over two months ago. It was only after his initial dick-tator speech and when you were still postal that your people had been flight risks.

The group isn’t broken. It took only like a week for you to calm down, therefore for the group to calm down, but Rick can’t…forgive himself, therefore thinks he can’t ‘fail,’ even in appearance, after having done what he did.

He’ll get there.

While he’s off with Lori and trying to process that today is a good day and he can rest, you took a guard shift early to relieve Maggie. Carl is beside you, just to hang. He’s of course got his deputy hat on, with his little pistol out.

“You’ve got the safety on, baby?”

After a playful whine, he reminds you “Not a baby.”

“Hey. I changed your diapers, you’ll always be a baby to me. Punk,” you correct yourself.

“The safety’s on.”

And you know he hasn’t fired it since two days ago so his gun is still fully loaded minus three rounds. When was the barrel last cleaned and oiled, though? “And you took it apart and cleaned it with your dad earlier, right?”

“Yeah.”

Why did that sound uneasy?

You turn to get a good look at him.

He’s still maintaining proper gun handling, but his head is stooped.

Timidly, he calls your name. “Are you sad about Uncle Shane today?”

“I was. I-I still am, a little,” you confess. Lying isn’t your thing, and besides, that boy notices things the way Daryl does. With a lift of your shoulder, you concede “I miss all of them, just like you do.”

Him and Lori were crying a little yesterday night about Evie (Lori’s sister, Carl’s auntie). After New Year’s last year, she’d secured leave for her first Christmas at home in like four years. When Lori remembered that this was supposed to be the first Christmas with Evie again, she crumpled. Carl, too. “It’s normal that around special days like Christmas, one can feel a stronger sense of loss.”

“But it’s different with Shane!” he blurts out. Wiping his nose, he then starts to shuffle one foot around the twigs and acorns and dried leaves on the ground.

“I know, bud,” you sigh.

He sniffs and starts to pace. You rub your thumb along Dale’s big watch on your wrist and wish there was more you could do to make things better. For stuff like this, it just takes time. Some days are simply gonna be not-so-good. You send up some prayers and ask what to do, then you worry: your nephew didn’t start to feel scared of Rick again, did he?

You’d hoped that was just a one-off thing from that bad, bad night. “Carl, did you feel unsafe around him today or yesterday?”

You have to turn to see him shaking his head. “Sometimes, when he’s angry,” he quietly admits. “But not today. It was, um, it was when I saw…” He sniffs again and runs his sneaker over an acorn. “It’s just that you were playing with the necklace a lot yesterday and today. Then I overheard you talking with Mom earlier…” His little mouth twists and his brows knit close. “Was it okay that I gave Dad the picture with him and Shane and us?”

“Yes.”

“Did it hurt your feelings?”

“Not one bit, I was proud of you.”

Now he’s staring at his shoes. “Are you angry at dad again, Y/N?”

Deep breath. “I was for a short while.”

He gives a little nod and looks down, then back into your eyes, mouth still twisted as if he’s nervous about your answer. “Did you hate him again today?”

“No. I didn’t hate him today, I ain’t truly hated him in a long time.” You shrug. “Today, I simply remembered what it was like to.”

“I know he’s…not a bad man,” he says more cautiously than he should be.

“He’s a great one and a good one. And I don’t hate him, I love him.”

A shy smile twists his mouth and he relaxes his grip on his gun.

Ew, but now he’s staring at some type of orangey, shiny, fairly large fungus. Funguses? Fungi? Whatev.

Grossed-out and wondering how you hadn’t noticed them until now, you automatically guide him back from it just in case of, you don’t know, um…spores (that’s a thing, right? Mushrooms are just so creepy).

But a sudden flashback to the way you’d been holding Carl so he wouldn’t get any closer to that buck—right before they both got shot—causes you to flinch and let go of his shoulders.

“Y/N?”

“Sorry, just went back to that day with the buck, kiddo, my bad,” you mumble. “Hey, if um, if you go get your mama, she might will know what that one’s called.” Lori’s the resident mushroom expert. Back in the before-times, you’d thought it was a disgusting unusual hobby. Joke’s on you, now. It’s a great skill to have when civilization collapses.

“They look cool.” His face lights up. “Wanna bet if we can eat those?”

“Ew, I’m bettin’ no way.”

“I’m betting yes way.”

You squint at him. “What’s the bet?”

“If I lose, I’ll give you one of my puddings.”

“High stakes, then. And I would give you what’s left in my can of Crazy-Cheez, but I don’t anticipate havin’ to. Are you sure you wanna bet the pudding, baby?”

What’s that mischievous look he’s making for? “I can’t wear your boyfriend’s poncho instead?”

Oh, that’s why. “Sure, yeah, totally — now since when are he and me behavin’ romantic, punk?”

“Well, why are you wearing his poncho? And he was wearing Shane’s co—”

“—My coat, not Shane’s. Daryl and I switched for funsies, how’s that?”

“Y/N, are you still scared of dating?”

Good Moses, kid. “I’m cautious and careful. Now, go get your mama, a puddin’ cup, and a spoon, please, ya punk-ass.”

“Pretty sure you owe a quarter for that,” he teases, holstering his pistol. He takes a few steps to head back, but turns around. “Don’t you like him?”

“I like everybody here.”

He huffs in a way not dissimilar to how you tend to. “You know what I mean.”

“I guess I don’t hate him. Happy?”

When you watch the punk-ass raise his eyebrows, redden, and start to giggle, you smile, confused, because: what just happened that you’re missing?

Well, whatever it was, Carl wags his fingers and scurries off to the little water department building, so, you shrug and get back to your guard duty. You chuckle despite the good/scared sensation in your stomach.

Sometimes, you get a tugging sensation from your chest toward that darn mangy hick, ever since that day he’d almost gotten himself killed trying to find Sophia. Other times, it’s just your standard butterflies. But every so often, it’s a good/secure/safe/nervous feeling in your gut.

Peeking back through the trees to make sure nobody is looking in your direction, you wrap the poncho tighter around yourself and you happily swing back and forth, grateful for the temporary peace and solitude. Your people are healthy, together, and happy…they’ve begun teasing you about you and Daryl…you get to wear his poncho…you can listen to Going to California again…

Tipping your head skyward, you whisper, “Thank you.”

Then it hits you: Carl noticed two and a half months ago how you (and his dad) started saying “I don’t hate you,” instead of “I love you” to each other…

Good Moses, and you just told him that…you didn’t hate…Daryl.

Oh my.

Ohh my.

Oh, poop, that punk-ass! That wasn’t what you meant, you love that mangy hick the way you love everybody here!

“Carl!”

............................................

> Masterlist link here <

and our teeny tiny taglist :D

@spenciepoo338​​ @its-freaking-bats​​ @whistlesalot​​ @buffy-the-assbutt-slayer​​  @dreamingaboutthewonderland @kwazii-kat​​​

(inbox is open if you would like on or off the taglist, slowpokes. Please don’t feel bad or nervous if you don’t want to be tagged anymore, just let me know, we’re all friends here!)

[sailorsplatoon]

Elita/Pepper meeting 8 could go so many different ways depending on if your 8 has regained their memories. Cuz if the two were rivals I could see 8 wanting Elita/Pepper to tell them everything about themselves then Elita/Pepper would twist some facts or embellish details to make herself look better. And Elita/Pepper would be the only person of the group to know 8s real name.

Oooh I hadn’t thought about that.

My Eight doesn’t have all his memories (which is why he goes by Eight rather than his real name). He is gradually regaining them in the Memverse, but when he meets Elita again he still doesn’t have every detail. 

Elita/Pepper totally twists certain details, but then it turns out those were things that Eight remembered already and he sees straight through her embellishments. He doesn’t really care though. 

As revenge, when he tells her about his experiences in the Deepsea Metro and the Memverse, he embellishes a ton too, making himself look better. He already has an impressive amount of accomplishments, so his embellishments make him seem like the strongest octoling alive. Elita/Pepper 100% falls for it and believes every word.

Elita/Pepper is in fact the only one to know Eight’s real name. She didn’t know that his name was something that he forgot though. So ended up just casually calling him it, and then not understanding why he was thanking her so much. Once she understood what was going on, she was happy to have been the one to remember it for him. It gives her a bit of a “you owe me” that she can dangle over Eight’s head when she needs it.

As for what Eight’s real name actually is, it has been well established that names are things that I struggle with. However, this time I did some research and actually put some thought into it because I feel like Eight’s real name is a significant part of his story.

So, my Agent 8’s real name is Gale. I based it off of the funeral bell mushroom (scientific name being galerina marginata) because I love mushrooms and this one is cool. it’s very poisonous and grows on stumps of pine trees or dead pine branches. It’s also very small, meaning that poisonings by it are rare. The word gale can also refer to a very strong wind.

I felt like these fit Eight pretty well, since my Eight oc is really kind most of the time (mushroom is small and unassuming), but can also kill you (mushroom is very poisonous). He’s extremely strong (like a gust of wind), but won’t use his strength unless he needs to (poisonings from the mushroom are rare). 

Thank you for the ask!!! Half of this was me actually responding to what you wrote and the other half was just me rambling about Eight’s name lol. 

[solarpunkpresentspodcast]

Eating Like the Ancestors (Some of Them, at Least)

Christina here. When the dog and I went out for a walk on Wednesday afternoon, we paused to admire one of the many walls of corn lining the fields right now. Look closely at this photo. Just behind the dog you can spot blobs on one of the corn stalks. In fact, they're blobs growing out of one ear of corn.

Here's what they look like close up. Yuck! Disgusting. Like aliens life forms have invaded and taken over the corn kernels and blown them up to elephantine proportions.

I've been seeing this on corn cobs around here for years and scratching my head about it. Last year, I finally got around to googling. Turns out it's not aliens that have invaded the corn cobs, but a fungus that infects ears into which rain has gotten in. Science calls this fungus Ustilago maydis. In Mexico, they call the resulting galls of fungus huitlacoche and they eat them. But the galls are referred to most unpoetically as corn smut in English, which views it as little more than a crop pest/disease that needs to be eradicated.

This year, I worked up the courage to bring some of these swollen blobs home and cook them up for dinner. It's not so different than collecting wild mushrooms, after all, and I was 99.9% sure of my identification of them. Even though they're weird looking and filled with tarry, black spores, the indigenous Mexican ancestors of mine in my dad's family tree would have considered them a delicacy (although I'm assuming they lived in the part of Mexico where they grow corn). Maybe my father's mom and dad even ate huitlacoche when they were kids, before they left their small towns in the Sierra Madre in Mexico for Los Angeles. But, having never been there, I have no idea if this is the sort of place where they grow corn either.

So maybe my paternal grandparents never knew about huitlacoche themselves. I honestly have no idea. What I do know is that corn fungus galls weren't in my grandmother's repertoire of Mexican dishes by the time I came into this world, about fifty years after her family left Mexico for California. That's my defense for why I hadn't known they were a Mexican culinary delicacy, and why I jumped to the I think entirely reasonable conclusion that they were parasites from outer space. One of the downsides of integration, I guess, is losing that sort of cultural knowledge (or one of the upsides, depending upon how you feel about eating fungally infected maize flesh).

But, having summoned up the courage to eat the fungal galls, meant I first had to summon up the courage to touch them. It took courage. I expected they'd be slimy. But that was silly of me. Are mushrooms slimy? (Only when they themselves are rotting, thanks to bacteria or slime mold.) Huitlacoche aren't slimy at all. Just... spongy. I tore a few galls off the infected ear, smearing black, tarry material on my hand in the process. Which was, admittedly, kind of yuck. But I persisted, stuffing a bunch of galls in my pockets to bring home.

The galls are really cool looking when you slice them open. I hadn't expected all that internal structure at all.

But they're a little less convincing when you dice them.

I love the interwebs. What did we ever do without it (I mean, besides have to get up off our butt and go to the library). In seconds flat, I found a recipe (well, several) that suggested frying the huitlacoche up with onions, garlic, and serrano peppers. They you layer the mixture, along with shredded Oaxaca cheese, inside a corn tortilla you heat up. Then you have... a magnificent quesadilla.

I would have followed the recipe to a tee if I had lived somewhere in the world other than Germany! I had to settle for substituting the yellow bell pepper I had in my fridge and some chipotle chiles pureed with adobo sauce for the serrano chiles, low moisture mozzarella for the Oaxaca cheese, and yufka (the Turkish near equivalent of a flour tortilla) for the corn tortillas. Which also means I had to take an antihistamine because eating wheat makes me wheeze, gives me hay fever, and makes me snore.

However, I did have some fresh cilantro growing on the window sill, so that was a win! I tossed some over the top of the finished quesadilla and... after letting everyone know I was embarking on eating a foraged fungus I'd never tried before... dug in. Aaand... it was WONDERFUL. The huitlacoche tastes like a mixture of nixtamalized corn (e.g., masa) and what I imagine a truffle tastes like. Altogether it was THE BEST QUESADILLA I HAVE EVER EATEN.

And now I'm, like, d'oh! All those years I stared at the huitlacoche galls on the corn and thought EW! What an idiot I was. I could have been eating this amazingness instead. Three cheers to the person who first got hungry (or curious) enough to give the fungal galls on maize a good chew. They're totally now my hero.

The farmers here are starting to harvest the corn now. That means I have no time to waste if I want to go harvest more huitlacoche. I think I'll go out tomorrow, wandering along the outer rows of the cornfields (any deeper and the deer and the wild boars lurking within and I might end up surprising each other). The huitlacoche galls don't keep long in the fridge, but I've you can freeze them. It would definitely be great to eat it again without having to wait a whole other year.

If you're curious about giving them a go, maybe go find yourself a market that sells them either fresh or frozen.

[pandoraxrosier]

──  *✰ ۫  pandora o. rosier.

( 21. ex-slytherin. spell creator. neutral )

wild mushrooms, walking barefoot by a river, tarot cards, eyes full of stars, the month of spring, spending all your time with animals rather than people, chipped black nail polish, pressed flowers and pressed moths, unhinged quips that make your friends erupt with laughter, a leather jacket over a lace dress

BASIC INFORMATION

full name: pandora ophelia mañosca rosier

pandora (greek) "all gifts". in greek mythology, the first mortal woman, pandora, was created beautiful and delightful by the gods, such that every man was attracted to her. ophelia (greek) "help", "aid", or "advantage". best known for the tragic heroine in william shakespeare's 'hamlet'. although ophelia's story is heartbreaking and poignant, the name also represents beauty and selflessness. rosier (french) "rose bush".

age: 21

date of birth: 29th february 1961

star sign: pisces

element: water / ruling planet: neptune / spirit colour: sea green / lucky gem: moonstone / flower: water lily pisces are smart, creative, and deeply intuitive, pisces can be close to psychic. they feel things deeply, and have incredibly strong gut reactions. a pisces "knows" things from deep within, and can often judge whether a person or situation is good or bad. that doesn't mean a pisces ignores the logical part of their brain, though. deeply intelligent, pisces have a profound respect for the power of the human mind.

hometown: malahide, ireland

gender: female

pronouns: she/her

orientation: bisexual

occupation: spell creator (freelance)

language(s) spoken: english, filipino, french, gaelic, tagalog

positive traits: creative, intelligent, unconstrained, passionate, selfless, thoughtful

negative traits: impractical, indecisive, head-in-the-clouds, easily overwhelmed, naive

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

fc: olivia rodrigo 

hair colour: black

eye colour: brown

height: 5'4

tattoos: none but i might change this

scars: grazes on legs and feet and arms from running through wild grass etc etc

MAGIC

blood status: pureblood

patronus: thestral

the second most rare patronus, only an unusual individual could produce a thestral. those with the thestral patronus are gentle at heart and kind to those around them. they have an understanding nature and will often make others feel understood. they may find people around you open up to them with things they have told nobody else. having such a gentle nature does make people with the thestral sometimes at risk of being pushed around, however, it is uncommon for someone to feel negatively towards those who cast this patronus. those with this patronus often have the most gentle souls of all.

boggart: a sand timer running out

wand: 12", oak, dragon heartstring

affiliation: neutral

hogwarts house: slytherin

subjects: divination, care of magical creatures, arithmancy, charms

extracurricular activities: none  

pet: two abraxans (winged ponies) called flora and clover, a piglet called calliope, luzon bleeding-heart (a type of bird) named dibdib, thornback spider called arabella, doesn't count but some fairies who live at the bottom of her garden

QUICK FACTS

tw: stillbirth, references to infanticide, murder (dark!)

pandora was born to a rosier daughter, and a mañosca son. her mother's family was one of the oldest and most sacred in the united kingdom, and her father's was the oldest and most sacred in the philippines. growing up, she spent her time between both countries, in the lap of privilege. she experienced everything the world had to offer.

she noticed how it was kinda weird that her father's family only ever had one male heir per generation. turns out they practice poisoning their unborn male babies so that there's never any contention for the family seat!

her mother killed her dad for revenge when pandora was 8 and came back to the uk with the kids where she moved to one of her family's residences in ireland!!!

people used to call pandora weirdddd growing up, but her mother told her it was because they were jealous <3 . she had bright, starry eyes, thought she could do anything, and had never known the word no, so tended to march to the beat of her own drum. throw in all the weird murder stuff, it just made her have a lilll streak of insanity

she's very tender, very soft, whimsical almost, but definitely has a fierce side to her where she could easily kill for people she loves. very few friends.

she's a spell creator, very imaginative, head in the clouds. definitely an optimist and idealist. has a lot of self-confidence. she also doesn't really know when to stop, and has never known any limits.

also v artistic, loves painting, scrapbooking etc. she's into very sterotypically witchy things, loves herbology and plants and astrology, quite mystical, maybe pretends to be a seer and gives people fake prophecies for shits n giggles

in terms of the war, she's neutral/a pacifist. her family's big on blood purity but she's not really bothered. she's just doing her own thing

WANTED CONNECTIONS

friends! she has only a few but would kill for them.

people who she doesn't like. pandora can be vicious, sarcastic, mean when she wants to be

xenophilius lovegood....

[kihaku-gato]

2022 retrospective

A very loud part of me want to say this year was horrible and that I got to discover a lot of horrible and ugly sides to myself that I would truly care not to have. A grain of truth, the rest I must remind myself is me being a bit unfair and cruel to myself. A rough year, a rough environment, one can only handle it for so long before they snap. A lot of it, not unlike the year itself, could not be entirely helped. Gotta note it and try to do better next time, and it may not succeed next time either.

To be fair to myself I won’t delve further on the self discovery horrors as that is unfair to myself to also far too easy to fall into. This retrospective needs to include positives, and then with it the goals (I’d call some of these goals more like wishes then goals since a lot of external factors affect if I’ll be able to even try or not to achieve them).

Let’s start with the one I could talk about most; art.

I may not be making art at the quantity of my early days, I still did more art this year than I have done in recent years. The drawn-flowers-from-personal-photos challenge I did only lasted as long as the earlier spring flowers (no surprise, once seeding season kicks in, energy to do much else dropped like a rock), and it showed that I still have the ability to draw irl flowers and enjoy it. The fact I did it will only pencil and pencil crayon was both fun and challenging as well. If I could find skintones in my crayon arsenal I’d likely look into doing such media with my OCs (it may even be a sign that I should look into skintone pencil crayons).

I actually did my first Art Fight this year, making an art piece of a different person’s OC every week within the entirety of July. I pushed further in what I could do by trying to make more complex backgrounds. I got to see some of my OCs get some love from other artists too which was a plus. Thanks to art fight too I pushed to finally make reference sheets of some of my OCs. I hope for 2023 I can not only participate in Art Fight again, but also make even better compositions, and make more reference sheets for my other OCs.

One of my other OCs (Shenkin) got an update and upgrade to his design, and is probably my most favourite iteration of his design, making previous versions pale in comparison. Kayla’s armor design is closer than ever to being to what I’d like for her. Since mid to late December Gertrude has been toyed around with both in my head and with my pencil and will likely become another OC to get a big update and upgrade and may lead me to try to draw more space/sci-fi. I hope more of my OCs in general get to grow with what I’m able to do.

My goal for art in 2023 is to at least match to what I did in 2022 in quality and quantity, if not go even further (but if I can’t that’s ok too). It would be nice to try to delve into clay model art. Additionally to not be bound by the social media chains that cause such severe validation deficiency. Be proud of your art Me, even if not appreciated by as many peeps as you’d like, the ones that truly matter at least do.

Health

Was hoping for some issues to heal away before the end of the 2022 but that didn’t happen. That being said, I had done some tweaking in my diet to alleviate some of the bigger issues. I have also helped improve my diet, not by a huge margin but still by an ok margin with having daily berry smoothies. The person I was back in high school would’ve been shook at me doing that. I’m no longer eating summer sausage unprepared; now I’m actually having them in sandwiches which adds a bit more grain into my daily meals. Also found I like mushrooms on my pizza, meaning a little something extra to my usually rigid preferences in pizza. I hope my medical issues finally heal up, but also that my diet/palette can further expand.

Reading

Rereading the chronicles of ancient darkness is proving that I should look into more reading in 2023, even if its just within my own personal collection. I can see a lot more in these stories than I could even remotely comprehend back in the days I first read them. I need to take advantage of those times where my mind is restless in wait (car rides in general).

Just goals and wishes

At least get my G1 driver’s license this 2023 PLEASE. Get my gardening care (houseplant and/or outdoor plant) care back in order, even at the lowest of bars. Complete certain video games so I can move on from them (if you know which ones I mean, you’ll understand). I hope to see myself in a kinder and more patient light in 2023 and that I can look at myself  without tearing myself apart. Explore more self-expression whether be artistically or irl it may help.

If future me ends up reading this down the road; I hope this finds you grown further than at the time of this writing and that many of these goals have been achieved. If not? It’s ok, I know that even if you think you haven’t tried, you have. At the very least, being in this rough yet beautiful world is enough, please don’t forget.

[pixies-and-poets]

So, there's references in the Memory logs to rabbids spreading out in the (Super) Mario Galaxy after first entering it in Kingdom Battle. However, we ALSO have histories of rabbids who grew up on the planets they live on since childhood, as well as history and legends of ancient rabbids on those planets.

There are a few ways I've seen the fandom approach this:

Rabbid timelines are insane nonsense and one can grow up from childhood to adulthood, and a planet can establish an entire rich history and civilization, in a matter of a few years.

Time travel stuff.

Literally all of the rich and ancient history we encounter throughout the game is made up because Rabbids like playing pretend and making stuff up. None of it existed before recently. Augie's temple is new and made to look old. Woodrow's childhood on Palette Prime is fabricated. This is the idea of a friend of mine and I respect it because it's honestly hilarious, but I don't think any of us who take the games more seriously could cope with this, lol.

Now, I do think #1 is true to an extent- rabbids have a natural chaotic energy that lets them accomplish and experience things at a rate that would seem absurdly frantic to most sapient beings, hence why Phantom was able to have a pretty illustrious career already, which includes dating and breaking up with Bea (who herself went on to release multiple other albums before retiring from music and becoming warden). Even if SoH is supposed to take place in about a real-world timescale from KB (so, five years) that's still very impressive!!

But I don't think it's true that EVERYTHING we see out there is like, less than five years old, lmao. Why would Professor Backpack be studying stuff that happened so recently as if it was literal ancient history? Since we know that time travel is already within the Rabbids' powers and they arrived in what was not only a dimensional-traveling appliance, but a time-traveling one, I think it's safe to say time travel is involved.

From there, we have two further options.

When the Rabbids entered the Mushroom Kingdom, the chaotic disruption of their time machine sent waves throughout the universe, essentially rewriting history so that they had "always been there". Hence why there's ancient statues of them, prophetic murals, etc found even in the Mushroom Kingdom and the DK Island archipelago.

When the Rabbids came to the Mario universe, they found it a place where they could fit in and be happy and productive, like no other dimension they had ever encountered. Therefore small groups of them consciously chose to travel into the past and settle various planets (the planets we encounter in the game and perhaps some others) so they could be part of this world more intimately. Over time they evolved and changed, not only culturally, but adapting to their planets by evolving different body types and so on.

I think what happened is perhaps a mix of both, but if I have to pick one, I lean towards preferring #2. I think it's sweet to imagine them doing this intentionally.

Phantom himself is a tricky one because, well, he was just your average rabbid that arrived from the Basement Incident and wasn't native to that universe. Right? AND YET... there is something very prophetic about his creation. The relics, the stage already being set, the moon gate, the fact that he very much had a name already before he was "born"... I don't know if Bowser Junior is the type to just invent all that or care, on his own. He also knew exactly what was going to happen from the Merge, whereas normally it seems his actions with Spawny were a little more spontaneous and "let's see what THIS does!". So, there is definitely stuff to work with here. I know some of us have discussed time loop stuff with Phantom going back in time to ensure his own creation, but time loops make my head hurt so I'm not gonna commit to it too hard lol.

I really want to rework my ref for unmerged Phantom and actually draw him in stuff because there's a lot of ideas buried deep in my head that I want to put into drawings. Although there's one thing that poses a problem for me if I'm gonna put more detail into Phantom's personal lore: the timeline between Kingdom Battle and Sparks of Hope. It's not exactly seamless.

I mean, I feel like I missed or forgot something, but were the other planets and Wardens and sentient Rabbids around from the moment the Rabbids merged with the Mario world? It seems like after the events of Kingdom Battle we were flung into this newly created timeline that was already in progress. Is it just a time travel thing? And if so, is Phantom not a part of it? I've thought about this many times and I actually made up an angst scenario about Phantom having a crisis because he's part of a world in which he has no past. Maybe that's part of the reason why he constantly craves attention; he's trying to make up for this "gap" in his life...

[jadeleechisagoodboy]

I’d love to join your club!

A short Nature-Lover!Yuu & Jade fanfic.

Yuu and Jade meeting for the first time and quickly becoming buddies. Takes place mere days after Riddle’s overblot.

This is basically exactly how I imagine my yuusona and Jade meeting, so I wrote Yuu’s personality as being pretty similar to my yuusona’s (upbeat, enthusiastic), but I avoided physical descriptions.

No warnings, They/Them pronouns for Yuu

———

One week.

It had been one week since Yuu had tumbled out of a floating coffin and found themselves in a strange, unfamiliar world. And they were already in desperate need of a break. Luckily, with Ace finally allowed back in his own dorm, and Grim apparently too exhausted from the events of the past week to cause trouble, they found themselves with some much needed down time.

After making sure Grim was still conked out on the couch, the prefect slipped out of Ramshackle and headed straight for the botanical garden. Immediately through the glass doors, they inhaled the muggy air, thick with the scent of soil and greenery, and the tension drained from their body as a happy sigh left their lungs.

Avoiding the area where they’d had their unfortunate encounter with the Savanahclaw house warden a few days ago, Yuu began to meander along the winding paths, taking their time admiring every single plant.

After awhile, they came to a path that branched off from the main one. Curious, Yuu followed it and came to a sort of work space. Metal racks holding potted plants and various gardening and science equipment acted as walls dividing each work station. Most of the “rooms” were empty. A few had half finished projects that had been left to sit overnight. And only one had a student continuing his work after school hours.

As Yuu was passing by, they glanced briefly at his table, and stopped dead in their tracks.

“Whoa…”

The teal-haired student lifted his head to look at them.

“Ah— Sorry! I just— I’ve never seen a mushroom like that before,” they apologized.

A small smile graced the students lips. “Are you referring to this one?” He asked, picking up a medium sized mushroom whose round cap was dark green in the center, gradually fading to lime green and then yellow around the edge.

“Well, all of them, actually,” Yuu said sheepishly. The colorful array of mushrooms and various plant clippings the student had laid out in front of him was unlike much of the flora from Yuu’s non-magical world. “But that one is especially pretty.”

The teal-haired boy’s smile reached his dual-colored eyes that time.

“I agree, it is very beautiful,” he said, looking at the mushroom with something akin to pride. “Would you, perhaps, like to know some facts about it?”

“Really?!” Yuu exclaimed, their demeanor brightening instantly.

The student chuckled fondly at their enthusiasm. He set the mushroom down and reached under the table to pull out a second lab stool for the prefect to sit beside him. Yuu eagerly took the offered seat, and listened as he began go through his knowledge of the fungus.

With each nod, hum, and excited question from the prefect, the student seemed to grow marginally more excited as well. A hint of warmth shone in his yellow and olive eyes, and as their conversation expanded to include the other specimens on the table, his smile also widened enough for Yuu to spot the tiny points of his sharp teeth.

“You know… if you like nature this much,” he said, “you should consider joining the mountain lovers club.”

“There’s a whole club for that?” Yuu asked. The student chuckled.

“Yes. We went on our first hike yesterday. That’s where I found all these specimens,” he said. “We also make dishes using foraged ingredients.”

Yuu gasped. “I’ve always wanted to try making wild flower syrup! Do you also make other stuff?”

“Other stuff?”

“Yeah, like, using natural materials to dye fabric, using pine needles to weave little baskets, that sort of thing.”

“Well, we can certainly try. Does that mean you’ll join?”

Yuu hummed, tapping a finger against their chin. On one hand, they were already very busy… adding club activities to their other responsibilities could be hectic, but on the other hand, spending time in nature and doing little crafts sounded like the perfect way to relax. “Sure!” They decided. “I’d love to join.”

The students face brightened with the widest smile they’d seen from him yet. “Wonderful! I’ll bring the registration form to your dorm tomorrow,” he said.

“Okay. That reminds me, though, I should probably get back before Grim wakes up,” Yuu said, standing up to leave, “but it was really nice talking to you!”

“I had a nice time as well,” the teal-haired boy said, standing up and smoothing out the front of his lab coat. “I look forward to seeing you during club activities.”

“Me too, uh… What was your name…?”

“Oh, I apologize for not introducing myself,” he said, placing a hand over his chest. “My name is Jade Leech.”

~ End ~

———

I kind of envision this being the first part of a longer, slow burn, Jade x Yuu fanfic, but who knows if I’ll ever get around to writing more for it. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed!

[travelling-on-the-octopath]

S Plays 'Golden Wildfire' - Part 5

Chapter 8 - What Makes a King

There's not a whole lot of differentiation here between battles and content, so it's just one big post here.

Oh? Fun; there are no side battles or anything here, just fighting Almyra.

Hm. Claude: "That doesn't change the fact that messing up now could mean the end of the Alliance. All because of my miscalculation."

Getting very worried at how uncertain Claude is in his own abilities . . . because it would have been a compelling trait in Houses, now it just makes me nervous.

Judith to Erwin: "You can drop the traitorous villain act. I know you've done more for the Alliance than anyone else."

Erwin to Judith: "You give me far too much credit. All that has ever mattered to me is ensuring the well-being of the commonfolk in my territory. Not the Alliance itself."

Tiana and His Majesty: The Origins? Alliance Soldier: "I heard a story once about the daughter of a certain noble falling in love with an Almyran prince who had snuck into Fódlan. She abandoned her home and returned to Almyra with him to become his queen. Or so the story goes. It's terribly romantic, don't you think? Though I doubt it's true."

Mercenary: "We were initially supposed to defend the Great Bridge of Myrddin. But then our employer told us to go fight Almyra instead. You wanna know who our employer is? It's Erwin, the head of House Gloucester."

Alliance General: "Viscount Nilsson is tasked with a special duty within Leicester. Which is why he's traditionally been overlooked when it comes to supplying military aid to the Alliance. But this time the viscount reached out to the Alliance leader of his own accord and sent us to help. After all, House Nilsson can't fulfill its duty to the Alliance if Almyra invades Fódlan." I don't know what any of this means but that only makes me curious.

Nader growing tired of Shahid's shit and debating jumping ship. Good for him.

Claude is very clearly not happy about this fight gjdflkgj my baby

Okay is it just me or is this battle DIFFICULT?

Changing the difficulty from difficult to easy for my GW playthrough to save myself the headaches and time; AG remains on normal.

:(((((((((((((((((((( Clauuuddee :(((((((((((((((((((((((

Well, yeah, he sent Shahid over a cliff. He told Shez killing him was his burden to bear, and referred to him as his brother right before he let the arrow fly. I'm really glad I watched it with the JP voices because it just Hit. My heart hurts for him :(

"You know, I thought a guy like me would be impervious to this king of thing. Looks like I don't know myself as well as I thought. But now that I know, I won't make the same mistake again."

And this folks is the scene that does in his character, apparently.

Claude: "It turns out Almyra isn't as unified as many believe." Yeah no fucking shit it's the size of Fódlan and apparently one kingdom.

Nader: "You see, I sere the king of Almyra directly, as a retainer I was never obligated--or inclined--to obey Prince Shahid." that just makes me love Claude and Nader's dynamic more to be honestfgdlkjgdf

Holst and Nader are friends once more in this timeline. Cute.

ARE YOU TRYING TO FUCKING TELL ME RAPHAEL WAS THE FIRST TO PIECE TOGETHER THAT CLAUDE'S ALMYRAN?????????????????

It doesn't go anywhere by the way. Claude breezes past it.

Nah now hold on are they ALSO trying to tell me that Holst is enough of an idiot to actually eat bad mushrooms not once, but TWICE?

Arval: "[Claude] harbors many secret ambitions. I wouldn't expect him to back away from this war any time soon."

Uh-huh. Okay.

And that's the end of part one!