#the tragedy that is the dandelions getting separated always fucking gets me. give them their friends back

[blue-eli]

Edit: I found a more zoomed out

unasked for proof that Lauriam awoke in the dwarf woodlands! edited together from screenshots of "Reunion: For My Sweet Prince" and "Destinations"

^less edited, with borders and "SKIP>>>" still included! he is there!!! :)!!!! and alone :(

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

wishing you were somehow here again

oops - angst with a happy ending (of course) 

---

Everywhere he looked, it seemed, Jaskier was there. In the blue of the flowers that sprung up on the sides of the road and in grassy, patchy meadows. In the way Ciri laughed every time she heard a particularly naughty ballad in a tavern. In the flashes of bright color at the corner of Geralt’s vision whenever they passed through a more densely populated village; it was almost always a clothing stall or another troubadour that certainly wasn’t as talented as his - as the bard he’d been traveling with before. 

Geralt mourned his loss in silence, unwilling to voice any pain or suffering when his newly acquired daughter’s happiness was so fragile. Ciri was stronger than she looked but she was still only a child. A child who had seen so much tragedy in such a short amount of time. She needed him to be strong. She needed him to be caring in that gruff, awkward way of his. She needed a father and Geralt...

There was no time for Geralt, a Witcher of impeccable stolidity, to cry or scream or grieve the loss of the only person who’d ever stuck with him by choice. The only person who had looked him dead in his mutated, terrifying eyes and said: “You are worth loving no matter what.”

And Geralt had thrown that love away as if it meant nothing.

---

“Have you heard,” one bar patron asked another, “About the tragic death of that young Viscount to the east?”

“Yeah,” the other man slurred back. “Fell off a cliff, didn’t he?”

“I heard he was mauled by a wyvern,” a third drunkard piped helpfully.

Geralt pulled his cloak low over his brow and closed his eyes. Could be anyone, he thought. It really could be anyone. Doesn’t have to be-

“Used to travel with that Witcher, didn’t he? What was his name, the White Wolf? Gerard or something?”

Oh gods, no. Please. Please don’t say-

“Yeah. He played at being a bard. Went by the stage name Jaskier.”

“Aye, that’s the one.”

Geralt couldn’t stand to listen to another word. He rose from the table and stormed into the darkened street, eyes flicking back and forth to determine which path back to his room would be best. Behind him, an unfamiliar set of hands strummed an overly familiar tune on the lute. He paused to listen, the voice in his memory carrying over the squeaky, unbroken voice from the bar, telling the story of unrequited love in two directions. 

He’d always hated Her Sweet Kiss. More than Toss a Coin and far more than anything else the bard had managed to write about him. Even A Witcher’s Eyes, which waxed overly poetic about all the different shades of yellow, orange, and amber that Geralt’s eyes took on when he hunted or slept or…

Oh gods, Jaskier. How could I have looked at you with anything other than affection after all the time you spent proving that your heart belonged to me alone. Fuck. I’m a fool to have hurt you like that and now...now you’re gone and I can never say I’m sorry.

And the Witcher, a man who was said to have no feelings at all, felt his heart break all over again. 

---

“Ah, Geralt!” Jaskier grinned, flinging his arms around the Witcher’s waist with a confidence he’d never before possessed. His irises, bluer than any cornflower despite what the poets said, flickered with relief and love and mild concern. “I’ve missed you terribly. How did the hunt go? Are you hurt?”

“No,” the Witcher answered truthfully. As a matter of fact, he didn’t even remember going on a hunt. “I’m fine.”

“Melitele be thanked, then. Now let’s get you a bath and something to eat.”

“A kiss, first?”

“Anything for my Witcher,” the bard crooned. His arms moved from Geralt’s waist to wind around his neck, holding him close. He pressed his soft, petal-pink lips against the Witcher’s and tightened the circle of his arms. 

Jaskier was squeezing him closer. Too close. Too strong.

Clinging. Choking. 

Like a rope.

Like a vine!

Geralt burst back into consciousness and flung the poisonous, hallucinogenic plant away from his body with a grimace. He cast Igni and watched the rest of the greenery go up in squealing, shrieking flames. The patch of enchanted shrubbery he’d been hired to dispatch had given him such a nearly-wonderful dream. Such a close glimpse at what he might have had if he hadn’t been such a godsdamned idiot all that time ago.

But he had been. 

And now Jaskier was dead.

And it would be best to stop dreaming about him.

---

“Would you care for a flower, Master Witcher?” an oddly soothing voice asked, proffering the blooming rosebud before Geralt could reject it. “Red for passion, pink for adoration, or yellow for friendship?”

“I have no one left to give a rose,” he chuckled darkly, without looking up. “But thank you for the offer.”

“No one left? How tragic,” the flower seller sighed. “But such is the life of a Witcher, is it not?”

“Aye,” Geralt nodded from beneath his hood. “And the good things that sometimes happen to us always fade too fast.”

“If you had someone to give a rose,” the merchant continued, “What color would you choose?”

“Pink. For adoration, as you said.”

“For that mysterious sorceress the people often associate you with, Master Wolf?”

Geralt let a sad smile slide across his face in the darkness of his cloak’s deep hood and shook his head. A memory flashed before his eyes: “Not the Butcher of Blaviken then. Hmm. The White Wolf, perhaps?”

He shook his head again to clear it and spoke without thinking, spurred on by the feelings stirring back to life in his chest, “For a bard. A bard that sang so beautifully even the birds would stop to listen.”

“Oh Geralt!” a pair of arms encircled the Witcher’s waist and a determined hand yanked the hood back and away. Light flooded Geralt’s vision and by the time he adjusted his pupils, the stranger was so much more familiar than before. “You big oaf! I knew you’d miss me eventually! And what a lovely compliment; far better than your earlier quip about my fillingless pie.”

“J-Jaskier!?” 

The Witcher’s golden eyes were brimming with unsheddable tears. Jaskier was here. Standing before him. 

Jaskier was alive!

The bard was crying as well, those big blue eyes overflowing with joy. The Witcher’s arms moved of their own accord, twining around his companion’s shoulders and pulling him close until they were chest-to-chest. 

“You smell like Roach,” Jaskier giggled, face already buried against the familiar black material of the Witcher’s shirt. “And I don’t go by that name anymore, darling. Didn’t you know that?”

“Wh-why not? I had heard you were dead.”

“I was very clever in faking my own death, don’t you think? Nobody’s tracking me down for any pertinent Princess-hunting information. As far as Nilfgaard cares to know, Jaskier the bard and Julian the Viscount de Lettenhove are both long dead. Dandelion the troubadour? Well, he is alive and kicking, as you can see.”

“Dandelion?”

“You seem dazed. Confused. Lost, perhaps?”

Geralt couldn't do much more than repeat himself, “I thought you were dead.”

“Oh...oh,” Jaskier’s gaze softened and he released his grip on Geralt’s waist. Geralt did not release his hold on the bard’s shoulders, however. He just clung more tightly, held on more fiercely, afraid to let go even for a moment in case this was another dream or apparition. A set of lute-calloused fingers slowly, gently caressed the side of his face and he leaned into the touch with a broken little sound. Jaskier was glowing, it seemed: “You really did miss me.”

“I love you,” Geralt finally admitted. After years of friendship and another year of loneliness and heartache and loss, the Witcher let his defenses fall away. “Of course I missed you. I missed you and mourned you and wished for you to come back from the dead every waking moment for the last four months.”

“I thought you wouldn’t mind my disappearing,” Jaskier bit his lip thoughtfully. “After what you said...back then. But you really loved me back all this time?”

“How could I not love the only person in this world who chose a Witcher over everything else? How could I not love the only person who ever saw me as a man before a monster?”

“Oh, dear heart,” Jaskier breathed, closing the distance between them until only a hair’s breadth separated their lips. “You’ve never been a monster.”

Their first kiss was soft and sweet and everything the bard knew his darling Geralt hid so firmly from the outside world. He had managed to crack the Witcher’s stone heart open and build a place for himself inside, a place that Geralt welcomed him back to as soon as their lips met. 

You see, that’s the thing about flowers: they’ll grow through even the toughest, most impenetrable surface in an effort to reach the light. And the light that shone out of Geralt was worth more to a Buttercup or a Dandelion than a thousand suns.

[bewaretheidesofmarchyall]

Soulmate Shenanigans Part Three: Return Of The Shenanigans

Let’s do this!

At this point, you probably know the drill (and, if not, parts one and two are here and here!)

Basically I found some prompts for September, and now I’m doing them in October just because

Prompt #3

You have an animal that only you and your soulmate can see.

Warnings: Death mentions, brief mentions of drowning (I pinky swear that I’ll stop drowning Janus for the rest of this challenge), brief mentions of house fires (I pinky swear that I’ll stop setting Patton on fire for the rest of this challenge)

World Building

Soulmates had always been an idea bubbling in the back of humanity’s brains. A sort of “hey, this romance thing is complicated, could we just kinda know?”

It was starting to annoy the fates

Do you expect them to do all the work? I mean, what with the spinning, and the looking ominous, and the lack of dental, their job is a hard one, and you want to make it harder by having them weave two people’s stories together?

One day, a fate heard yet another “please, let me meet my soulmate tomorrow” prayer and went nuts

Fine. Fine! You want soulmates? We’ll make soulmates.

The plan was to create two soulmates, make them fall in love

And then kill them.

Just to remind humans where they stood on a cosmic scale. Just to remind them that every story ends tragically, when you get down to the end.

They reviewed a few couples (Some Romeo and Juliet people had promise), but in the end decided. Feuding families? Check. Opposites attracting? Check. Tragedy? Inevitable.

Characters

Patton: Patton grew up inside the hedges.

Hedges were his family’s specialty, so the house was surrounded by them. He rarely got to leave, but he could get lost in the gardens and talk to his imaginary pet, so all in all things were okay. Sure, maybe it was weird to have a blue jay that only he could see, but he was lonely!

See, Patton’s family liked three things

1. Having heirs (but only in theory)

2. Increasingly elaborate hedge mazes

3. Fighting a blood feud the goddamn lawyers

Patton wasn’t really on that list, but he wasn’t on the list of hated things either, so there was that.

List of Hated Things

1. The goddamn lawyers

2. Anyone who associates with the goddamn lawyers

3. Anyone who is descended from the goddamn lawyers

4. Anyone who gets in the way of the blood feud with the goddamn lawyers

5. Dandelions. They’re not serious gardening.

Janus: Janus was, of course, a child of the goddamn lawyers

The lawyers weren’t a clan of blood like the gardeners, but one of merit. And having kids was seen as a conflict of interest, and therefore frowned upon.

Of course, it’s illegal to murder or criminally neglect children, so he was allowed to stick around and have a childhood vaguely reminiscent of John Mulaney’s “one black coffee”, “over on the bench”, and “getting accused of murdering Princess Diana” skits

Most of his childhood was spent accusing his pet blue jay (that couldn’t be seen by anyone else) of crimes and then debating himself about whether or not the bird was guilty, like a normal kid.

However, when it became clear that someone else was stealing his blue jay, he had to find them and give them a piece of his mind, even if they lived behind formidable hedges

The Plot

Patton (about eight at this point) was wandering around the grounds, talking to Sunny (his name for the bird), like every other day, when the strangest kid he’d ever seen in his life appeared through a small gap in the hedges and informed him that the bird was his and he’d be leaving soon

A bird custody battle ensues

Janus uses a lot of legal terminology, which Patton pretends to understand. The debate ends when Patton’s aunt shows up and threatens to chuck Janus over the garden walls if he doesn’t get out immediately.

Janus runs off, but Patton sees him through the hedges later, and he looks kind of sad about the whole thing, so Patton offers to share custody of Sunny. 

Janus perked up at this solution, despite claiming that the bird’s name was really Iago, and a friendship was born.

It was hard for them to chat when both their relatives would love to murder at least one of the kids if they could get away with it, and Patton was separated from him by the hedges, but they managed.

Sunny/Iago was decent at carrying messages, Janus was good at finding secret passages, and Patton had adequate aim when tossing packages over the hedges.

They were best friends for years and years, confidants in their crazy worlds.

At around sixteen, Janus convinced Patton to leave the grounds for an afternoon. The two of them saw the sights (which meant buying/stealing bread) (you can guess who actually bought the bread and who stole it) and had fun

The evening ended with the two of them sitting under a tree, chatting. The dandelions were in that in-between stage where some of them are flowers and some seed-heads, so Patton was able to weave a crown of flowers and make a wish at the same time.

Take a wild flying guess who he wished for (hint: they were currently wearing the flower crown and pretending to not like it, but would secretly never take it off. Ever.).

Patton claimed he’d wished for world peace (which, on further reflection, he felt bad for not thinking of first), and Janus claimed he’d wished for solid gold coins, but they were both lying.

Eventually, Patton had to go home.

Sunny-Iago: Sunny-Iago had gone by many names before. As one of the extra-dimensional lords of fate, they’d been called things like, “THE FUCK IS THAT”, “IT HAS SO MANY EYES”, and “Oh, fuck, that raven’s back again”. It made perfect sense for them to have at least two, despite being in the flesh prison of a blue jay this time.

A damn blue jay.

At least ravens have a little class.

Anyway, their job was to guide two sweethearts together and then drive them into a metaphorical (or literal? It could always be literal) brick wall. This was proving harder than expected, since the most important thing was to not get attached to either of them and well

Sunny-Iago had gotten attached to both of them. It was hard to see kids grow up and be fine killing them off, okay!

But they knew the drill. This had to end in some kind of tragedy. 

So, they had a plan. Instead of having them both killed off because of miscommunication, they’d merely never see each other again and pine after what could have been, eventually turning into a bittersweet story they’d tell to....someone younger and more naïve, or something. They were still working it out!

So, they grabbed a quill pen in their beak and wrote a note to Patton’s aunt (it took several tries. Beaks were not meant for holding quill pens). 

The note said something along the lines of “You know the goddamn lawyers? Of course you do. Your nephew fell for one, last chance to fix the situation is at 10:00 at the gate”.

Back To The Plot

Patton and Janus got back to the gardener grounds. Neither wanted to leave the other’s company, so they lingered at the gate, chatting and finding excuses to stay.

After a few minutes, it was obvious that Patton had to leave. Before doing so, he quickly kissed Janus on the cheek, just in time to get caught by his aunt, who came close to stabbing the both of them with a garden trowel.

When Janus came back a few days later, wilted dandelions still in his pocket, Patton was gone, sent far away from lawyers and love. All that was left was the bird. A stupid bird that no one else could see.

Time-lapse! Seven years later!

Janus was working on the most important legal case any lawyer had in a solid three years.

A gardener had murdered one of his relatives (he kept forgetting which one, which was a bit of a problem, since half of his job was to look tearful about them) with a wheelbarrow, and he was attempting to get them arrested for it. 

If it worked, the gardeners would have consequence for committing murder, which would hopefully tone down the blood feud a little.

Half of the jurors had been rigged by both sides, some paid to vote one way and some paid to vote another. There were, however, six undecided jurors out there.

The Jurors

Logan: Logan is the only person on the jury who knows anything whatsoever about law and what can be done in a courtroom. He actually wants the most just and logical thing to happen. 

Weirdo.

Roman: Roman is an actor in a touring production of Much Ado About A Midsummer’s Ham (Cooked As You Like It)

He just wants this trial process to be over so he can get back to rehearsal-wait, nevermind, the guy with the glasses is cute and he’s going to make this court case last as long as possible.

Remus: Remus is here to cause as much legal chaos as possible

He might get arrested for contempt of court.

Virgil: Virgil gives 0 fucks about anything that happens, but knows more about law than Logan, who knows more about law than anyone else in the court.

Remy: Remy heard from people that court cases are full of juicy drama.

Those people are wrong. It’s just a bunch of legal stuff. He’d rather be at Starbucks!

Emile: Emile is psychoanalyzing everyone else on the jurors section. Especially Remus.

Back To The Plot

The case progresses normally

Well, normally for this town anyway, which means that the goddamn lawyers are dying off fast (mostly of poison).

Janus, however, has managed to dodge every assassination attempt. He’s lawyering like Billy Flynn here!

Late in the afternoon, everyone’s a little tired and a lot bored when yet another witness is called. Janus was pulling his hat over his eyes for shade from the sunlight streaming into the court, when he heard the witness’s voice.

After a seven year disappearance, Patton stood in the courtroom.

Remy leaned forward. He saw the look on Janus’s face. At long last, drama had arrived.

After the court got out of session, Janus dashed down the steps of the building to catch up to Patton. He offers to get a coffee with him, but Patton turns him down, insinuating that he only offered to get information on the gardeners. Janus left, dejected.

Over the last seven years, Patton’s was in the far away land where his family started: New Jersey. While in this cursed place, his family attempted to change him from a dandelion to a venus flytrap, and nearly succeeded.

Nearly.

But when, the next day, his aunt poisons Janus’s water glass (gleefully explaining that this poison doesn’t show up on the standard tests and precautions), he just so happens to be clumsy enough to knock it over before Jan drinks it, and ends up volunteering to get coffee to make up for it.

Coffee meet-ups lead to coffee dates lead to rekindling of old romances (all under the utmost secrecy)

Eventually, the court case comes to a head. 

The six pre-decided jurors work quickly, but Logan debates, and Roman stalls because he’ll be missing Logan, and Remus is forcibly removed from the courthouse, and Emile forgot to take notes, and Virgil sleeps through most of it, and Remy couldn’t care less about this, only caring about what happens with Janus and Patton.

They make their decision

Since they saw like 47 murder attempts over the course of the trial, it’s not a stretch to assume that the gardeners did kill that guy with a wheelbarrow.

Janus and the rest of the prosecution celebrate, and in the excitement of the moment, he and Patton end up sharing a kiss.

That’s the moment the gardeners went from Lowkey Trying To Murder Him to Highkey Trying To Murder Him

Both of them walk home with their head in the clouds

When your head is in the clouds, it’s easy to get kidnapped and thrown in the harbor to drown, especially if you happen to be a goddamn lawyer who just won a case.

And when your head is in the clouds, and you overhear your relatives talking about how they threw the person you love the most into the harbor to drown, it’s easy to make rash decisions

Like grabbing a torch and running into the middle of a prized hedge maze, and threaten to burn it all if his aunt didn’t tell him where Janus was. 

When the answer was “dead, obviously”, Patton took the torch to the shrubbery, and the estate burned.

Problem: Janus crawled to shore and survived. 

Secondary problem: Patton’s not trying especially hard to escape the fire.

Janus got to the house, saw it was on fire, and ran into the grounds. He eventually found Patton (who was still alive and in the hedge maze), but....it’s a very intricate hedge maze, and now there’s smoke everywhere, and they can’t find their way out.

At the last second, Sunny-Iago swooped over their heads, pointing to the exit, and they run after them.

They’re almost out of the burning grounds when Sunny-Iago falls to the ground, still, and they find themselves in another place entirely.

The Fates

The Fates had bet on how good old birdie would kill Janus and Patton off

Knife? was the most common bet, followed by Wolves. No one bet on them living in the end.

Except Meghan (alternate name: The Lurking One), and nobody liked Meghan, and nobody liked losing money. 

So, they were going to do the job personally.

Back To The Plot

Janus and Patton find themselves in a tomb where every grave is theirs. A tomb where every grave is theirs is essentially the office space of the fates, who enjoy the atmosphere.

The Fates themselves take a multitude of forms: Animal, vegetable, mineral, eldritch, you name it.

And they all bicker amongst themselves about how to best kill off the couple.

Knife? Wolves? Triscuits? How??

Janus tricks them into debating the subject round and round in circles, but they eventually come to their senses.

As a last ditch hope, Patton says that they’ll pick the method of death for them if they give the couple a chance to plead for their lives.

The fates agree, and the Final Court Case begins.

Janus is quite a lawyer, but there’s literally a saying about how hard it is to argue with Fate, so its a nail biter of a case. Patton manages to give a passionate defense and Janus brings up evidence, but it’s still anyone’s game how the jurors will vote.

Steve votes for death

The Great Rot votes for not death

Spatula votes for not death

Karen votes for death

Meghan votes for not death

A Clump Of Petunias votes for death

Broken Taco Shells And Broken Hearts votes for not death

That One Relative At Family Reunions That You Pretend To Know But Don’t votes for death

Microwavable Lasagna votes for not death

The Ghost Of Richard III votes for death

That Sock That Always Disappears From Dryers chooses not to vote. What a jerk.

At this point, it’s tied 5-5. Enter Remy, who just wants to go to the extra-dimensional Starbucks.

He deliberates. He hems. He haws. He draws out the moment unnecessarily long for drama’s sake.

But, at the end of the day, he was always rooting for these humans.

Remy votes for not death.

Conclusion

Patton and Janus get to live. Time is very short for humans, and eventually they would both die, but right then and there, they got to live.

Dandelions eventually took root where the carefully trimmed hedges had once been.

And Roman noticed, after his performance was done, that a certain nerd was in the audience.

And he could also see Roman’s blue jay.

Hope you enjoyed!!

[road2thelight]

Just How Old is Ven in KHUX?

KHUX, KHIII, and BBS SPOILERS AHEAD

Okay so I’m going to finally sit and write this all out so I can try and make sense of -gasp- the Kingdom Hearts timeline. At least part of it. 

So we know that Ventus is 15-16 in BBS. For less confusion in this, we’ll say he’s sixteen. We know that he’s spent 4 years in the Land of Departure after Xehanort ditched him and before BBS:

“Four years before Aqua and Terra take their Mark of Mastery exam” (link) 

So Ven was roughly 12 when he came to the Land of Departure. 

Which okay 12 year old keyblade wielder, sure that’s okay (the grown ass adult in me is screaming that he should be at home drinking a juice box while doing homework). Sora was 14 and, while I have issues with the fate of the world in the hands of babies, KH has a precedent for around this age.  

The question is, how old was Ven during Kingdom Hearts Union Cross? 

This is where things became more muddled but to break down my theory of his age, we’ll have to go a little off tangent. 

So we know Ven was Xehanort’s apprentice. For how long though? Did Xehanort stumble on this kid with amnesia that could somehow summon a keyblade (try and tell me he won’t have amnesia after KHUX, do you see where that tragedy is going???) and was all like “Ah here’s a good sacrifice to use for my nefarious, convoluted plot that will only come to a head in almost twenty years and be defeated pretty much by the power of friendship”? 

More so, did Xehanort find him instantly wherever Ven appeared (Scala ad Caelum? Radiant Gardens? Destiny Island?) or was Ven wandering for an unknown time as a lost kid? With my theory, I think Xehanort found him instantly, possibly even knew when Ven would appear (MoM told him maybe? You decide).

More so, Ven’s name is the same in the “present” as the KHUX plot during the Age of Fairytales, so we can presume two possibilities: that Ven had just enough memories that he could remember his name OR he had all of his memories before losing them somehow. So beyond the issue of this child needing so much therapy from repeated memory loss, let’s explore these.

First up: Just enough memories. 

We know Darkness can manipulate memories, so it’s possible that Darkness, when he somehow got back into Ven in KHUX (since he’s in Ven’s heart by the time of KHIII), could alter Ven’s memories. With the pods and time travel, we don’t know how long it takes for the hearts to travel. Is it light speed? A blink of an eye? Thousands of years but for the body it was like 5 minutes? For my theory, I like the thousands of years travel but for the body it was only like five minutes idea. This would give Darkness plenty of time to bury all those memories and leave Ven practically a blank slate. The one thing he couldn’t erase was his name, the core of his being. I also like to think that Ven is aware of Darkness at the time of him going in the pod and is fighting with every fiber of his being to hold onto whatever bits of himself that he can. Ultimately that’s his name and a key personality trait (his strong belief in friendship “my friends are my power”). 

For the other theory we’ll have to go a little out there. From what we know involving the pods and time travel in KH, it causes the person to lose their memories when they come through UNLESS it’s a Maleficent situation. Girl had all of her memories of the past because the three fairies -coughmerryweatherdammityouhadonejobcough- remembered her, she could come back. But who in the future would know Ventus to let him keep his memories? 

Theory Time: Xehanort did. How do you ask? The story of the Dandelions and the New Union leaders has been passed down alongside the story of the Keyblade War in Scala ad Caelum. We know from conversations in KH3 with Young Xehanort and Young Eraqus that their Master’s favorite story was about the Keyblade War. My idea is that the Dandelion’s were a side story about the survivors and who was one of the new Union Leaders of the Dandelions? Ven. And as long as someone in the time you are going to knows your name and something about you (I guess, KH doesn’t go into details), you can come back. But then how did the story pass on so Xehanort could hear it? Well Eraqus bears a very eerie resemblance to one Brain from KHUX. My guess is that Eraqus is a descendant of Brain, which means somehow Brain got out of the Data Daybreak Town at some point in KHUX and passed on the story of the Dandelions. Maybe the reason Xehanort knows it as well as he does is because it’s a story that Eraqus knows like the back of his hand because of his family. Maybe Brain even had photos of the leaders that he kept with him so Xehanort knew what Ven even looked like cause they were heirlooms Eraqus showed him. If none of that pans, maybe MoM told Xehanort something. Who knows. 

All of this to come to the idea that Xehanort, and Eraqus too I am positive, knew that Ven was a lot older than his actual physical age and possibly even knew he was a Union Leader. This is hinted at in Ven’s short story:

“Maybe the Master knew more about the real me than he ever let on, all the things I don’t know about myself. But now he’s gone, so I guess we’ll never know.” (link)

Now Ven could have been talking about Vanitas, but since he already knows about Vanitas and his past with Xehanort, I personally don’t think that’s what Ven’s talking about here.

So Ven would awaken with all of his memories but how would he react to the new time and people and Xehanort? I think this will rely on what happens at the end of KHUX but something tells me Ven will be in a very vulnerable, easy to manipulate state. Maybe Xehanort would convince him that it’s because light grew too powerful that Darkness appeared and was trying to restore order that way. Maybe he convinced Ven that he was his apprentice and dreamed the events of KHUX from his stories. Either way, Ven became his apprentice. He would lose his memories though, minus his name because Xehanort knew it and would tell Eraqus, when his heart was split to create Vanitas. 

It’s a wild theory but you know what, Kingdom Hearts is chock full of random events and plot lines so who knows, I might be totally right on that idea. 

With either theory, I believe that Xehanort knew no matter what that Ven was a keyblade wielder from the Age of Fairytales.

Now back to Ven’s age. Xehanort, knowing that using the keyblade is like riding a bike (tell me it’s not, once your body is taught how to swing or throw something it becomes muscle memory) and that a heart never truly forgets (he’s been studying the dark, the light, and has an interest in hearts by this time), would probably not waste much time in taking Ven under his wing. It would probably take a bit of time to convince Ven that he can use the keyblade well, since we can see Ven lacks confidence in KHUX, but not as long as a full apprenticeship. Being a Union Leader, I imagine that Ven, back in KHUX, was probably counted in the same rank as a Master, if only because of his position. My guess is, this was six or so months, just long enough to get the sacrificial lamb ready for a slaughter. For clarity’s sake, let’s say six months even. 

If Ven was exactly 12 years old on the day of him arriving in the Land of Departure, this would make Ven 11 years and six months old when he first arrived in the future as well as at the end of KHUX. 

So we know how old Ven roughly was at the end of KHUX, cool. How old was this poor kid during KHUX? We are never told in KHUX how long the Dandelions have been in the datascape. We know a few time things though:

It has been a while, from conversations the New Union Leaders have had, but not long enough for them to want to separate the Union back into five groups.

It was shown in Brain’s flashback with Ava that this particular event with her took place four years ago. 

Relying mainly on the latter of the two, since we’ve got a specific year length on it, let’s make a few guesses. 

We know Strelitzia was told of her role to be a Union Leader shortly before the war started. Let’s say that Ava had a plan to tell each leader in a certain order. Strelitzia was last, Skuld joined the Dandelions sort of late so we’ll say she was right before her, Ephemer was told before Skuld, so that leaves Brain and Laurium. Since Ava is going against the MoM, I think she would tell Brain his role first.

Let’s say that Ephemer was told four months before the war his role and that’s when he disappeared. Skuld would be told two or three months after him. Then Strelitzia last right before. Let’s guess Laurium was told 2-3 months before Ephemer (6-7 months pre war) and by this pattern, Brain would be told 2-3 months before that (8-9 months pre war). That would mean the Dandelions have been in the datascape for roughly 3 years and 3 months at the time of the flashback beginning. I presume this is only a month before the conclusion of the Dandelions because things are starting to come to a head in the current update of KHUX. 

So let’s do the math with this: 

Ven is 11 and a half years old at the conclusion of KHUX.

Ven is maybe 11 and 5 months old at the time of the flashback. 

This would make Ven roughly 8 and 2 months old when the Dandelions were put in the datascape and he became a Union Leader in the aftermath of the Keyblade War. 

Let that marinate in your thoughts.

Just like an eight year old. A fucking baby. Who let this baby bean have a keyblade at 8 years old?!?!?!?

This makes KHUX have so much more sense though. I always wondered why Ephemer and co were surprised that Ven was a Union Leader, it wasn’t like they were well known or high gatherers of lux that we know of. But in this context it makes sense. A group of 14-16 year olds in charge with one random 8 year old in the mix would totally surprise you. 

Now of course this is just a guess. Maybe Ava told Brain super early to throw off the MoM’s plans and the Dandelion’s were only in the datascape for a year or two. We also don’t know when Ven became a wielder. My guess is at 7 or 8 years old in the original theory but with this latter idea, maybe Ven was closer to 10 or 11 at the time of the war. 

Still, it kind of throws me off that Ven was possibly as young as 8 when he was used by Darkness to kill Strelitzia (or was a witness to this traumatizing event at the very least). 

My conclusions: 

Ven needs so much therapy. Like, so, so much therapy. I will chip in, just someone get this kid to a therapist. 

The Kingdom Hearts timeline is a mess and trying to unravel it leads to so many issues.

I spent way too long on this. 

Anyone else have opinions on Ven’s age in KHUX or other ideas involving it? 

[chxrlesstuff]

The Flowers Between us

A cracked tarmac road tore through the rolling hills of the yellow-tinted countryside. Despite its popularity for travellers to the nearby town in warmer months, this morning only a crimson pushbike plagued with spots of rust rattled up the stretch. Atop the two-wheeled beast sat a young boy, cheeks dotted with freckles and chestnut eyes. He was the picture of youth. But such a childlike grace did not reach his lips, now upturned in a solemn scowl. From his furrowed brow to eyebrows arched so sharply, it was obvious today was no exception from being his usual self, always pissed-off, frustration instilling every violent pump his scrawny legs wore upon the whirring pedals.

It wasn’t the tragic death of his father, mother or the hope for a remotely cheerful childhood that formed this broken boy.  It was the separation from just about the only person he had known enough to care for; his Emily. And no, the boy did not consider himself as much of a romantic, but today he was keeping up that starry-eyed facade. For he had finally worked up the courage to finally visit her again.

He accelerated downhill, becoming a blur of red and white. The boy found peace in these daring moments: his hair tugged back by the breaking wind, his Arsenal jersey - maybe a few sizes too large - draping behind him like superman’s cape, and the bike’s worn gears whisking like a drawn fishing rod. Despite the veiling pools of morning fog that seemed to be spilling out of from the tree line, he could recognize every little flaw worn into the road’s surface.

He leaned in anticipation of the next turn without slowing. The tree line to his left, separated from the road only by a metal railing, curled to the right and drew his eyes away from the road. It seemed as if he was not moving; only the surrounding world was racing past him. But the oakwood trunks and emerald leaves grew thin as he moved forward. The tree line fell away to reveal a cliffside, carved into the mountain’s flank by years of slow but relentless erosion. The road snapped straight, and he returned his gaze forward. Where he expected to see a clear path, a figure’s shadowy silhouette stood veiled in the morning mist.

He grasped the pushbike’s breaks instinctively, setting the defective gears into a squealing fit as corroded metal hit metal. But it was too late, the bike continued to scream forward. He tore the steering bar left in a desperate attempt to avoid the collision as the turning wheels marked dark skid marks upon the tarmac behind him. The lane soon had no more width to give the speeding bike as he headed straight towards the railing. The rusted front wheel crashed into the sturdy barrier. Instead of crushing itself upon impact, the back wheel went upwards like a third-grader practicing her first handstand. He was launched like rock from a catapult. Had he tumbled over any other part of the cliffside, he would have met a thirty-metre freefall followed by a fairly swift, unpleasant introduction to the ground below. But instead he found himself landing face first onto a flower-littered outcropping that had not yet fallen away from the cliff-face.

A head popped up over the railing. It was a girl’s face, equipped with youthful yet sharp, stunning features. Her outfit was obnoxiously coordinated. Two dark blue clips clung to black hair that only reached her shoulders, a deep blue leather jacket wrapped her slim figure, followed by a pair of denim jeans; ripped in several places. Whether the tears were a purposeful fashion statement or the signs of an unfortunate tumble, the boy couldn’t say. Her adolescent face was set in a sympathetic grimace. But this was not out of pity for the boy. She was assessing the damage the flung body had wrought upon the various, wildly coloured flowers that littered the grassy ledge, this was a garden they would come to be away from everything. Between the flowers, this place was their own little secret. It was where they had first met; when two young, naive runaways from opposite sides of town had somehow both found themselves stopped at a roadside outcropping, admiring the beautiful scene.

The girl opened her mouth to recall the memory, but the boy caught her tongue,

“I’m sure you’re flattered that I came all the way out here Em.” He spoke without lifting his head, just trying to play it cool, as if he hadn’t just turned the garden into a personal landing pad.

“Oh, you poor little thing,” she countered with an all too obvious tone of amusement. A hand was covering her mouth, trying in vain to hide a childish smirk. “That graceful little faceplant must’ve got you all concussed, because I don’t remember asking you here, but I guess the garden was missing something - I always liked garden gnomes. I shall call him Dopey”

The boy (or Dopey, as Em had decided to call him today) finally lifted his head from the bed of daisies, spitting out a few petals. After vaulting the fencing ever-so-quietly, Em’s sky-blue Converse appeared in front of his dirt-spotted nose. “You know…” he paused whilst sitting up to meet Em’s empty blue eyes, realising how long it had been long since he last rattled off his endless troubles to her, “…the girl I was crushin’ on, her dad is a crazy butcher who wants to skin me alive; I’ve got two parents, both dead, and a drunkard for an uncle is the only one left to take care of me. So, can you take a hint that I might not be in the right mind for you to call me names anymore.”

“Well I’m very sorry, you know I’m sure we could find another name that’d stick.”

The boy could see that familiar sparkle in her eye, the one that would only show itself moments before tragedy struck. Well… tragedy to his ego that is. The ritual teasing began.

“How about flowerpot?”

“Not in the mood Em,” the boy growled.

Ignoring the boy’s less than enthusiastic reaction, she continued her playful assault- “Of course! It’s been right in front of me the whole time!” She motioned to the plant life-- flowers and tall grass, crushed down in the outline of his face. She put her hands together, connecting each fingertip to its opposite on the other hand, embodying a businessman about to propose his next best marketing strategy. She took on a deep, grumbling tone; a salesman ready to sell her idea. “Let’s say we call you Faceplant. It’s almost poetic!”

He met her eyes with a look that said please stop, but in her teasing mood she only read this as a sign that she was getting to him, so why stop now?

She continued the impression, leaning in closer “Okay-okay, I hear you! But hear me out now. Picture this!” She spread her hands outward for dramatic effect. “The destroyer of all flower-kind… the man… the myth… Grass-ass!”

He wasn’t going to give the attention she craved after that little performance.

He turned away from her, “can anyone else hear something? I could’ve sworn I heard a voice. Must’ve just been the breeze I guess.”

There were only three things on this earth that Em truly despised; the colour pink, rom-coms, and being ignored… you weren’t meant to talk about either of them.

She bent down, grabbed the corner of his ear and cupped her hands just to make sure the boy would catch every word. And she didn’t lose the voice - not one bit.

“DID YOU HEAR ME? GRASS… ASS!”

The banshee’s shriek hammered his eardrums. He tried not to show any signs of amusement at Em’s childish nature and failed miserably. He was the first to laugh; a sharp, repetitive snicker. She followed his lead with the precious giggle he cherished every moment it graced his ears. He tried to grab her arms, missed, yet she still fell down next to him. They rolled about the grassy ledge, crushing even more of the poor wildflowers. She reached behind him, supposedly brushing petals off the back of his shirt. It was not long before they found themselves embracing each other, cuddling amongst the crushed flowerbed. They were three steps away from the edge. Neither cared, they were just two kids again. Danger seemed nothing more than an old friend.

She put her forehead to his and whispered ever so softly. “Okay, I guess the names did sound a lot better in my head.”

“All your jokes do.”

The blue-clad girl pulled away, then sunk into a cross-legged seat upon the masses of white dandelions, tulips and daisies. She took her small, pale hands down to gently cradle his head. She brought her face down to his. He couldn’t even feel her hands, but he didn’t need to. The boy was instantly levelled by her stare. He didn’t like the way she could silence everything about him with a single look. The icy attitude, the short-fused frustration. He would use this hostile nature to defend himself from others getting too close to him, everyone saw him as this… ticking time-bomb, but not with her. All that aggression escaped him now, it melted away in the pure pleasance that radiated from her smile, a smile he had not seen in far too long.

Without notice, a peaceful silence had now crept into the air between them. Neither seemed to care, they had grown so comfortable with one another that such a thing as an awkward silence was unheard of. Being together was enough. He had never really understood a human’s need for that annoying, constant exchange of information, especially with someone you truly know.

“That's when you know you've found somebody really special. When you can just shut the fuck up for a minute and comfortably share silence.” The boy whispered, quoting that genius line from his favourite film. It had come out only as a whisper the breeze carried to her, as if they were sharing their own little secret. He noted the upturned corners of her mouth, the tell-tale sign that she was remembering an older time; the night she had waited for him to sneak across the town to her. With the moon as their only witness, they had watched Pulp Fiction that night, instantly cementing it as one of their favourites. Not because of the movie itself, but the memory that had attached itself. He would recall those cherished moments, still feel the stillness in the air, a stillness that spoke volumes of calmness, peace and acceptance to the boy’s tragic upbringing. He shouldn’t be reminiscing, but it was because of Emily, that he realised the past was set in the past, those rotten memories could no longer reach out and pull him back to his Uncle, that cursed house, that place of trauma, not here. He was in a constant state of elevation with her, as if he was now living above the demons that for so long were an undeniable part of him.

Whilst he felt many things today, the sensation he felt was only a cheap replica.

“I used to think I just missed your voice, Em.” She turned to him as he muttered those ill-fated words. Even with all his strength, he could not meet her gaze. He kept his eyes to the ground, pulling at the grass with nervous fingers.

“I’d tell myself everything I’d say to you when I came up here, and everything you would say back. But now I’m only just starting to realise it was the little things, the things you would say, the things you would do, the things I could never hope to predict or ever imagine. Those were what made you who you are, and who you were to me. I wish it were different, I really do. But that girl is no longer here.”

 There it was, the truth. Within a heartbeat, his words cut the air between them. The world seemed to freeze over, a chill danced up his spine. He felt lifeless, weightless, purposeless, all at once. This was how things would be without her, he could no longer deny this truth. Yet he knew he could not live like this.

Em, or what was the spirit, the memory, the ghost the boy had conjured of her, held between him a blank, empty stare. The colour in her lips, her eyes, her cheeks, it all drained away until she was nothing more than a pale ghost of the girl that he knew, the girl that could no longer be with him.  

“Please… I’m here with you. I’m here.” She spoke with a tone so shaky it was as if she was trying to convince herself. The boy tried to close his eyes, shut her out, forget. But there was a part of him, a part that did not want to let go. Tears began gathering beneath his closed eyelids, he opened and let them flow down his cheeks. He tried to speak, couldn’t, then tried again, conjuring the words together, just trying to not break out into a wailing fit.

“The crash took you away from me, but it also did something to me. They said I have brain damage, that I need surgery.”

“But I’m here!” The ghostly figure howled. It seemed to be crying too. Through cloudy eyes he saw it reach for his hand. But its shaky palms passed through it. The spirit, whatever it was, looked down at the hand, he recognised a look on its face, a look of betrayal.

“No, you’re not. I’ve been waiting. Waiting for you to come back to me…” His voice broke, and he looked up at what was left of the girl he loved, trying to think of a way to fix this.

“I have to go.”

The ghost reached out to him, trying to pull the boy back, back into the delusion. But the cursed hands simply passed through him once again. He stepped back from her and bent down, searching with shaking hands through the undergrowth. He finally settled upon two, and gently broke them from the stem.

First, a pink rose – the first flower he had given her when he told Emily he loved her.

Second, a blue lily, the last flower he gave her before the accident. Now it will be the last he ever would.

He smiled at the bouquet. This time the smile reached his eyes, they no longer held grief, only acceptance. When he brought his gaze up, there was no ghostly figure, only an elegant stone grave, Emily Lilac carved into its face. He placed the flowers upon its base.

It was flowers that had first brought them together, and now it was flowers that were between them. It was almost poetic, he liked that.